event } this ain't a scene, it's a deus ex machina (act one)

[seeingyou]

WHO: All y’all.
WHAT: Act One of This Ain’t A Scene It’s a Deus Ex Machina
WHERE: On Navi; Rizyeria and New Estos on the planet Merox.
WHEN: This month of April.
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if you get yourself smote, please report it on the death page.

scene one.

Navi has an announcement for everyone, and as per usual, it’s being broadcast right into your brain:

Attention, passengers.
I apologize that it has taken so long, but I believe I’ve found a solution to the problem where some of you have been transposed into a body that is not yours.
We are approaching an anomaly in the current galaxy known as the Blenga Zone. This area is known to be a hotspot of strange energy - some even describe the energy as “mystical” in nature. I believe that plotting a course directly through it may provide the catalyst to reverse your consciousnesses back into your original bodies.
I do admit this is not an area in which I have any expertise, so if any of you do have experience with this sort of thing, I am willing to listen to your advice.
For the rest of you, you’ll find sturdy restraints emerging from the walls. Please be ready to strap yourselves in - I imagine this part of our voyage will be less than smooth.
Please stand by …

As promised, wherever you are on Navi, a padded harness emerges from the wall nearby, ready for you to utilize when the turbulence begins. And what turbulence it is! The shaking begins gradually, but quickly increases in intensity until the movement becomes severe, and Navi shouts for everyone to strap in and brace for impact. Warnings blare over the PA, lights flicker out and are replaced with the dim red glow of emergency lights, and it seems as if Navi will be shaken apart at the seams. The ship pitches in varying directions, over and over again, until the crash of final impact can be felt, and Navi flips over a few times before skidding to a stop. On the bright side, Navi landed right side up.

On the even brighter side … at least you’re back in your body now?

scene two.

Eventually, through your combined powers of investigation, it becomes apparent that Navi is offline. The glyphlinks won’t connect, everything on the ship is in low-power mode, and even the drones are nowhere to be found. It’s not hard to guess that Navi has sustained some injuries after that extremely rough landing. Luckily, the loading dock is still functional, so you can still leave the ship to check out the planet!

Checking out the planet means discovery that Navi’s crash ended not far from a walled city, and what looks like a factory town on the outside of that wall. Any passengers curious enough to investigate will find themselves soon met - with wariness and suspicion - by local inhabitants, and escorted into the heart of the slums to meet with their leader, who resides with other locals in a large, abandoned warehouse. Roughly made tents are scattered throughout the warehouse floor, giving it the appearance of a refugee camp more than permanent housing, and a small crowd of children is seated around a larger hooded and cloaked figure seated on a stack of wooden crates. He stops imparting whatever wisdom the children had been attending with rapt attention and glances up at the newcomers.

“I see we have some visitors,” he says, in a neutral, slightly metallic voice. “Welcome to Rizyria. We don’t have much, but if you come in peace, we’re quite happy to share what we have.” He stands and pushes back the hood from his cloak to show his unobscured face, which is covered in numerous fluttering miniature wings, which are in turn covered with even more eyes. “My name is Hanna’morith. What brings you to us today?”

scene three.
Once the exposition cutscene has been cleared, Hanna’morith offers to assist with healing Navi, and he promises to recruit some of the other Rizyrians for the effort as well. There’s just one thing he’ll ask in return - your assistance in locating the Imrathic Shattershards, which are scattered to various public buildings and private collections inside the walled city of New Estos. All you will need to do is locate one of the shards, liberate it from its current abode, and return it to Hanna’morith for eventual reconstitution.

A handful of Rizyrians appear at Hanna’morith’s side to start planning the various infiltrations, and Hanna’morith asks to be taken to see the injured Navi. Feel free to mingle while you wait, and once your plans are finalized, you can head out whenever you’d like - though sooner is better, obviously. If not undertaking this high-risk scavenger hunt, you can head back to Navi, or stay in town to take in the entirely terrible sights.

Comments

[albatrossomen]

Murmur wrinkled his nose in disgust at their answer. They didn't have any sense of self whatsoever, and were even more frustrating to talk to than his own brethren. Murmur shifted slightly so that he was standing beside Jon, offering him support to lean on as he reached out to gently run his claws through Jon's hair. He really wished Jon would just let him take him out of there. These things would never be able to keep up.

"Are they? As you continue to fail in that endeavor, what happens then?" He knows asking them why won't net any useful response, they aren't capable of the level of introspection he'd be looking for.

[aparticularlyhollowlaugh]

Jon hates himself for finding that sensation of Murmur’s fingers through his hair so much of a comfort. He exhales a quiet, shuddering breath and pulls his arms tightly around himself. He’s keenly aware of how terrible this situation must be for the angel, they’d only just found each other - ah, but Murmur is eternal, isn’t he. After another century, would he even remember Jon, or would The Archivist be just a blip in his memory by then? Surely Murmur would endure. In the grander scheme, on a cosmic scale, Jon’s life is such a small price to pay for ensuring the safety of the entire ship’s roster of passengers, and the ship as well.

While Jon is busy mulling over his perceived insignificance, the robots go silent again, heads slightly tilted to the side as if listening for something. There are no signals audible for Jon and Murmur to hear, but it’s clear they are receiving new information from a source of authority. Once again in unison, their heads snap forward to focus on the angel in front of them.

This is part of the test, a different robot announces, and the others repeat test, test, test. The machine steps forward and points to Murmur. If the abomination belongs to you, then you must be the one to purge its existence.

[albatrossomen]

Contrary to what Jon believed of himself he was important to the angel, and being eternal would only make his passing more painful. Unlike mortals the memories of angels did not fade, the pains did not dull with time and fog the way they did with minds of meat and chemicals. No, instead these brief glints of belonging in vast seas of loneliness would remain as poignant points of light on distant horizons, reminders of how devastatingly fleeting mortal life was. He would endure, Murmur always endured, but Jon will be another memory he will hold forever. He was a memory Murmur didn't want to lose the same way he had Syriana.

Hubris. Murmur realized in that moment claiming Jon as his had been a mistake. He stiffened, it wasn't necessarily visible as the gesture was so utterly subtle but Jon being right against him would know. Terror and despair gripped him, immediately the reminder of his betrayal was all too painful a wound and to even have them suggest such a thing...

"I will not." He snapped, the air around them dropping by several sharp degrees. He would tear them all apart before he'd agree to that. They could torture him for centuries and not force his hand. He would not do that to Jon.

[aparticularlyhollowlaugh]

Jon shivers, and not just because of the abrupt chill. Of course that’s why these mechanical monsters hadn’t succeeded in ending his life - they are powerful, but they are not supernatural. Murmur, an actual celestial being, is far more powerful, and of the right sort of power to destroy an Avatar.

It’s a horrible thing to ask, and these robots don’t even know what Murmur’s been through, how he suffered for a cause none of his brethren seemed to understand. They don’t know the bond he and Jon have forged in such a short period of time. But Jon knows, and he also knows that Murmur was willing to do terrible things in the interest of the greater good. He knows that Murmur has himself been a sacrifice when it was necessary, like Jon believes that his death is what’s necessary to ensure safety for the others.

Everything makes sense now, and a resigned stillness washes over Jon. With tremendous effort, he shoves down all of the pain and terror that’s filled his entire being since he was captured and reaches up to gently clasp the angel’s hand with his own, a call for his attention. Gaze upturned, Jon smiles thinly and makes his calm and final request:

“Please … do what they’ve asked.”

[albatrossomen]

His hands have been bloodied countless times for the greater good, his own bloodstained feathers on his wings demonstrated as much. Murmur would, and could, destroy Jon should the need arise, but this moment didn't have to be one of those times. There was no assurance here his death would mean anything other than a notch in the belt of a space fascist that had long since grown bored of its playthings. This wasn't a necessary sacrifice, it was nothing more than a crime.

Against the machines he could refuse. Nothing they could say would be able to sway him, the empty lifeless machines held no authority upon a Celestial, but a mortal's request on the other hand...

Murmur's gone stock still, eyes locked on Jon and expression carefully schooled into that neutrality he wore so often. It wasn't his place to influence free will. It took every ounce of self control not to tell Jon he's a damned idiot for even suggesting it. Instead, very pointedly he asks: "Are you certain this is what you want?"

One chance to back out. One chance. Murmur can deny the robots all day, but he cannot deny an earnest request for self sacrifice from a willing soul. No matter how stupid and pointless that sacrifice might be.

Having to tiptoe the line of free will was eternally frustrating, and he was starkly reminded of exactly why it was easier to just stay in Heaven and not directly interact with the mortals. It hurt too much.

Please don't make him do this, Jon.

[aparticularlyhollowlaugh]

Is Jon certain?

It’s a fair question - more than fair, given the awful request Jon has made of Murmur. He hopes the angel will forgive him someday, but Jon truly believes there is no other way out of this disaster that won’t end in grand-scale bloodshed. It’s not what he wants, but Jon is certain it’s what needs to be done. He doesn’t want to be the reason for any other deaths.

He regrets he won’t have more time with Murmur; the time he was able to spend in the angel’s company was the happiest Jon has felt in years. He regrets he can’t tell Murmur how he truly feels about him, the depth of his love for the angel, because he can’t risk giving the robots any other ammunition against him. He regrets so much, but Jon doesn’t regret the decision he’s made.

Keep the others safe, he thinks, and hopes the angel can hear it. Gently, Jon traces his thumb over Murmur’s gloved hand, over the peaks and valleys of his knuckles, the same way he’d done that night they first kissed. The telltale sting of tears begins to build in his eyes, and Jon blinks hard as he nods his head. A single tear from each eye slides smoothly down each cheek, and he doesn’t bother to brush them away.

“Yes,” Jon says, expression composed into something similarly neutral. “I’m certain.”

[albatrossomen]

Jon is a fool. One should never play the game of zealots. These machines did not care for loyalty or love, they existed to follow orders and that's it. The one that issued their commands likewise had nothing holding it to a deal never made. All this would do would be to embolden them and their claims that this test would somehow bring back their maker.

It wouldn't, and it wouldn't stop the horrors that were soon to come to pass. This wasn't going to prevent grand-scale bloodshed, it was the match to ignite the fires of war. But Murmur couldn't tell Jon that, he could only watch him sadly steel his resolve for a sacrifice that didn't have to be made. When Navi was repaired and able to make Jon whole again he was getting such an earful from Murmur.

He will keep the others safe. He will do so much more than that. Those who had been crushed under the thumb of these false Celestials would be uplifted and the abominations that ruled over them crushed. His course was set, and that course was judgement.

Steeling his own resolve he extracted his hand from Jon's moving to cup his chin in both of his own to look him in the eye. At the very least this time it would be his own hand, and he wouldn't be a coward about it. "Then by your will..." A hesitation as something like a deeply saddened apology entered his eyes. He wished he could kiss Jon one last time, but they apparently had to keep up appearances. "This will hurt." He didn't really give Jon the time to process that. The upside to being smote by an angel was that it was generally very quick, the holy power surging through him was exactly the thing necessary to break apart an Avatar. It was harsh and unforgiving, the hammer of Light's divine judgement was ever heavy.

At the same time, while he burned away the Archivist Murmur reached out where the machines couldn't see to snatch Jon's soul up into himself. A quality of the Ophanim few gave much thought to was their ability to take the essence of another and wrap it safely within their rings. His flesh might be battered and torn, but Jon's soul would remain safe and protected within one of Heaven's very own bulwarks.

[aparticularlyhollowlaugh]

Murmur’s eyes, though sad, are still captivatingly beautiful - like points of enchanted green fire, and as Jon’s gaze is tilted up to Murmur, he thinks that he is glad the last thing he will ever see is something so otherworldly and brilliant. That momentary pause gives Jon the space for two more final thoughts he desperately hopes the angel will hear: I’m sorry, and Thank you.

A third final thought, I love you, is truncated by the shock of Murmur’s power.

Jon expects it will hurt - he’s seen how smiting a tape recorder goes, after all - but he’s grateful that the blow works through him quickly. He doesn’t scream, just gasps sharply, taking in a final breath as he is ripped apart into nothingness, then releasing the contents of his lungs as his body - now an empty vessel - crumples onto the floor.

Jonathan Sims, The Archivist, is no more.

The crowd of robots that has intently watched this execution unfold in silence now quickly descends on the body. The Prophet must be shown the evidence of his orders carried out. Murmur, it seems, has been forgotten.

[albatrossomen]

He would have kissed Jon then, were it not too late for that now. Murmur did hear those thoughts and they struck his heart just as sure as anything else. Even the last wasn't lost on him, and that one he could respond to as he gathered Jon's soul up within his own brilliant pale light. The love he would know there, shielded from the horrors that were to come, Murmur hoped would be enough to soften the blow of his unkind death.

Smiting was swift, efficient, and brutal. It did not, however, prolong suffering. There was at least some kind of mercy in that.

Murmur drops the gently smoldering body, stepping away as the machines swarm upon it. His nose wrinkles in disgust, grateful that in their fervor they forgot to keep an eye on him. He will slip back into the shadows thanks to his sigil to observe their next steps. Jon's body can be retrieved later. Now that they've committed an act of war upon one under his protection the chains were off, and as soon as Murmur has decided that there is no one in the city worth saving he will unleash his fury and judgment upon them. They have no idea that ultimately it will be their celebration of Jon's demise that seals their fate.

Their Maker will not come for them, only death.