eyemind | event } the honk is coming from inside the ship

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event } the honk is coming from inside the ship

WHO: Everyone left behind on Navi.
WHAT: There’s a goose on the loose!
WHERE: Anywhere on Navi.
WHEN: Feb. 20-March 13
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if the goose pecks through your skull, please make sure to fill out the death page.

Those of you who haven’t been swept off to a hell dimension may find that Navi is … unusually empty. Those links you had with your partner? It’s like they’ve just been shut off with the flick of a switch. Weird, right?

However, Navi’s halls are not exactly quieter for the emptiness. At first, you might think you’re imagining it, but soon enough, it becomes evident that there is something else on board this ship and it honks. The honking is intermittent, but it never truly ends for good. You’ll hear it through the walls, outside your cabin doors, on the next floor - everywhere.

After a few hours of this nonsense, Navi reaches out to the passengers via the mental link and asks them to find the source of this infernal noise and round it up so it can be ejected from the ship. It’s driving Navi nuts, they can’t tell where the honking is coming from, so they can’t take care of it themselves. It won’t be easy, because this goose is wily (and an eldritch being, technically), but it needs to be handled, and there’s no one else around. Good thing you’re still here to help!

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Few things in life were certain, this entity, whatever they were, was certainly one of the more unusual. Trying to peer into it, to make sense of it, was much like trying to stare into the heart of a vortex. The deeper he looked the worse that pounding headache from the goose became. So he pulled back, choosing to opt out of trying to understand this being's thoughts.

Whatever their motives were they didn't make much sense to him.

Simon continued to watch, staring in that strange unblinking way of his. They weren't one of the entities he had some experience with, but they weren't entirely dissimilar either. Were they after the children as well? No, he didn't think so. Not here.

"I don't know," He answered, leaning back and away from them. While they had no sense of personal bubble Simon had a fairly large one. He didn't much like being touched. "You like the sound?" The dancing was the most reasonable answer, sure, but why not both?

"...What are you?"

There was a lot to cipher through. If Simon had a question, they might be able to find some kind of answer within although understanding it may prove a little more difficult. Elusive as their mind was, Aether could clarify easier if physically asked rather than searched, usually. Still, they wouldn't stop Simon from searching. Eyeless features watched, that feeling ever present.

A few low chuckles vibrated up from the figure shortly after, and one step back when Simon retreats. Motive. What a human thing. Some other entities, Omega supposes, operate on motive but not many that they know. Mere nature was more common than any grand scheme. When time was so endless, who cared about something as trivial as motive? Feet coming together with a stomp. A gesture of their hand.

"There is that, too." Head rolling. Serious child. So let's be serious. Hands clasp and hang infront their body. "A spirit."

So much. So many questions. Deciding which were most important was the tricky part. Who could say how long this entity would tolerate his probing? The being watched sensation might have been unsettling for most, at this point Simon was so accustomed he'd almost call it comforting. Almost. It came with the territory of having your own personal boogeyman.

When time was fleeting and existence so tenuous and fragile, that was when one cared about motive. Human indeed. For now.

Simon is a serious child, barely any fun in him at all. It isn't his fault, he just doesn't really know how. "Are there more like you?" A spirit wasn't the strangest thing he could have been told. Another that traveled the world beneath the world.

"Four," themselves excluded.

Fun was relative. Quintessence was nothing short of indulgent, and in the physical realm -- without being compelled or channelled by ritual -- they have all the power to choose what they wish to decode for others. If they desire to at all. As of now, Aether isn't troubled by the questions. They're curious enough of this being.

So they dip their head and unfold a hand. "You know us well. Air, fire, earth, water and spirit."

Pretending you're an international superspy in the Borne Identity counts as having fun, right? Although now the game had shifted and apparently turned into science fiction and Simon didn't yet know what to make of that. Nor was he completely convinced he hadn't had a psychotic break and was experiencing some kind of schizophrenic episode. How would he know? No one's sedated him yet, but that'll happen in due time.

Or it won't, and this is his life now.

That aside, the answer did intrigue him. Elements. They were...

"Elementals."

Yes, Simon's familiar with the concepts. The method by which he's come to most of this information has been highly unconventional, yet through his "tutor" this has allowed him something of a bit more clarity than might be common among most humans. He tilts his head, now perhaps less concerned about this being and more intrigued.

"They misattribute your name. Call you a demon." Which isn't accurate, but rarely these things are.

It's your life either way, Simon. Hallucination or not. Although it's not always a snap in human wiring. Occasionally, its something reaching out. Whispers that can't be unheard. Some are born with it for whatever reason. An open gate. Sensitive. Some never learn to understand. Regardless of the cause, neurological or spiritual, it's their life. Who's to say one reality is less valid than another?

They snap up with a chuffed laugh. Head rolling back to centre; hands folding again in front their body. A click of their heel against the other. "Oh, they misattribute many things, many things. It's not news to me." Spoke with a point, "but your disposition has changed."

Well, to be fair, he's very familiar with the latter. Very, deeply familiar. Though getting anyone to listen or believe him has been an effort in futility. Alex has been the only one who has really started to accept what he's saying as true. He hates that she's had to see. Once that door is opened it doesn't usually close again.

Not surprising that they're not surprised. People have been getting it wrong since time immemorial, and ever will continue to do so if Simon has his way. "You're not a part of the ones who want to Devour everything." This entity, this being, seems to enjoy... well things in general. Anything. Enjoyment is something those who've succumbed to the Cult of Tiamat don't enjoy things. They have no love. So, in Simon's book, Spirit here is fine.

No, no when the door opens it does not close. Not without some heavy locks. Its not always that the otherworld creep in uninvited but that the mind has become enlightened to the fact that a door exists and it's a bit more like a glass window, really. But they're always around you, everywhere you go you're looking through a window. Sometimes you see what you see, and sometimes you see something else; hear something else; feel something else.

"Want?" Quintessence chuckled. "We don't want unless its our wont to say we want, when we want to. Want is for you to have. We are nature. Because we are, it happens. A star dies. A fire burns." A beat. "But have you considered that?" Tilt of their head. "Your Tiamat and followers do as they do because they're meant to, and so are you. You have plenty of choice, you know. Magnificent capacity as that is, but you'll always be commanded by your inner spirit."

Omega had plenty of love and enjoyment for almost everything, especially that which few others did. Their capacity to feel was quite overwhelming, large and endless. Finding bliss in the darkest of things, and that may be similar but this spirit, this being, felt far from malicious. Even within all their destructive nature. Many want to place human emotions and human explanations upon them, but that never quite worked.

"Until you become nature." The shadowy divots in that silver seem to crack for a moment into a toothy smile.

Some people could pull it off, not Simon. His door had never closed, and at this point he wouldn't be able to go back to pretending anyway. He's seen too much, knows too much, has done too much. Will continue to do too much, there's no turning back now. But that is neither here nor there, faced with the reality of an entity which embodied that mutable truth of their fragile, ever changing existence. Simon didn't really know what to do with this information. Take it as it is? Perhaps the only option. Was there ever another?

It didn't change anything, of course, this is how it's always been. It's simply strange seeing it so clearly on this side of the world that's barely there. "They think so," Of course he's considered it. "We were all called to play our part." Simon's simply decided to defy that call. To refuse to sing. He will not be a note in the chorus that will end it all. Instead his discordance may, just may, slow them down. "Are you suggesting predestination?" Because he's never believed that. These things were set in motion thousands of years ago, yes, but they weren't definite.

He had to believe that.

A huff of dismissive amusement. "Become nature? That's for you." Not for humans.

They chuckle, horns bowing in amusement. Delightful. Simply divine, this one. Surely Simon wasn't this unaware. Counter to popular hope, remaining silent does not make the truth any less true or real. Their head rolls back up, shoulders back and abysmal eyes seemingly return to the young man's attention. That requires one to be human, now wouldn't it. This is not your current state, dear Simon Reese.

But to make a point, they'll ask. "Are you so sure?" The question comes with a long finger pointing out.

Now, with that elephant in the room called out. Let's talk physics and universal law. It's difficult to fathom for some the delicate and nuanced differences between a sense of destiny and a sense of unchangeable fact. When the fact is that both answers are correct. And how can that be? They contradict one another. Well, now it might be becoming clear why their kin find them infuriating sometimes.

"I'm suggesting that every choice which can be made will be made," is where they start. "Time is not a line, it's not even a web," because a web, too, has structure. Time is both and neither formless and structured; capable of measurement and more than what is measured. Relative and independent. They take a few steps, head nodding. Walk with them? Hands, as always, expressive. "It's more of a," chin tilts to the side, a nod, "soup, I think is best described. The kind that doesn't really have an ingredients list. Take whatever you have and throw it in there, then its all just existing in space with vague frameworks on when it should boil and how much it will reduce."

Ready for more? Because here we go. "The truth is that while the universe is lawful and structured, these laws and structures are lenient. Which is why you get phenomena and a perceived notion of chaos. This changes once sentience comes in to play. Because now you've married nature with choice." Hands clasp together, pointing toward Simon. "And both live within you. So while your spirit commands you, ultimately you can listen or not. But, often times working against the spirit feels fundamentally wrong." The pause in words are punctuated with a pause in steps. "A sensation you know."

Oh, he's not, Simon was just hoping he wouldn't be called out on it. Is this what it's like talking to him, he wonders? Because this was precisely the kind of thing he'd do to Alex when making a point that they both knew she was lying to herself about. Touché, Spirit.

"..." He glances away, the point made. Yes, he's aware he's not quite human anymore. No need to rub it in.

Of course, Simon's not about to opt out of an impromptu lesson about the nature of the universe. Especially one that might grant him better words to articulate the parts he does already know to others so inclined to learn. You know, Richard Strand could really use this lesson. So, he follows, certainly invested in hearing more even if it means having the things he's been avoiding admitting pointed out to him.

"No matter what, it's still soup." He offers, trying to follow the metaphor. It's about as clear as his metaphors on primer and doors so who is he to complain? Yes, he's ready for more, do continue. Somehow he can also see how this fits into the questions involving the Golden Ratio, Pythagorean cult math, and the scores of music meant to infect the world to prepare the way for the end. It does all tie together, if you don't get too strict on the details of how.

Simon does look briefly annoyed at having that pointed out as well, and once more is reminded of precisely how it must feel to talk to him. Maybe he owes Alex an apology at some point.

Nah.

It has always come down to choice, as Simon himself has pointed out many times. The question was, was there a point to this conversation? Or was it just to remind him of what he already knew? "So what are you saying?"

Struck a chord, did we? Acceptance so rarely a comfortable thing. They're glad to have imparted some knowledge, however. Interpretational it might be. It all made perfect sense to them, but then it would. You know, given the circumstances. Many try to identify it and some succeed in small measures. Pythagoras among them. Although the whole belief of flatulence being the departure of one's soul was a big discrediting. Alas, young humans that they were.

"Soup it is," came with a point. Walking resumed. "Many things, but maybe the most important thing is a question to you. If you're willing to lose so much for something that does not have a defined outcome."

A little. Simon was probably due to hear it, though that didn't exactly make it any easier to accept. Deep down he knew there probably wasn't any coming back from the path he was going down. At the same time, if he could help to preserve the world as it is... it was worth it. A sacrifice he made willingly.

"Doing nothing is as much a choice as any other. I was already on this path." So in the end, what's he losing? A few more years as a human waiting to see if the world does or doesn't come to an end as he knows it? At least this way he can say he at least tried. That has to count for something.

Nobel cause. Reminded them of someone.

Their attention drifts in silence, considering the space they're in again. Fingers reached out to the walls; this sentient being they walk upon and all the various sequences of events that lead them all here. How strange and unique these motions were. Phenomena.

"Ah, wise and true. All directions require choice, even stillness." A beat, head turning toward the young man. "Most great paths end terribly. Perhaps the only consistent truth is a cosmic balance."

Simon would claim he's merely trying to right the balance, in fact that has been his claim in the past. His methods are ones most don't agree with but really what do they expect out of a child made into a demon?

Simon watched this entity in their silent introspection, brows furrowed. Was it he who now touched a nerve? Interesting. He couldn't read them the way he could most people, but he could still skim small impressions as much as he dared before the headaches began to become too unbearable. Much like the one caused by that infernal goose. It had been quiet, but somewhere in the distance he heard it again...

Going to have to take care of that soon if he wanted any peace.

Simon offered something of a half-hearted shrug. "It was never going to end another way." Whether or not the world was preserved his place in it had been lost when he first stabbed his parents to death in their sleep. It was just a matter of how he chose to find that end. "...That goose needs to be silenced." He decided aloud, because the headache was returning and off he sent that piece of himself in search. A long lanky shadow that wasn't impeded by hallways or barriers. That moved in a place imperceptible to the human eye. This was worse than Trent's praying.

They'd met many noble people in their lives. Those with great pursuits to understand what they should not; harness what they should not. Many who had ambition to then use it as a tool for education and betterment. It rarely ended this way. There was one someone, for a brief moment, Spirit thought would be different.

That someone allowed the corruption they fought so hard against to take root within themselves. They became, by leaps and bounds, worse than any figure they had originally attempted to dismantle. They had, somehow, fooled them all. More charming than the darkest devils.

It was impressive, Quintessence would give them that. Yet it was the only surprise Aether had known to lose its shine quite so quickly. When they'd all come to realize at once the truth of what they'd become and who had granted them the knowledge to do what they had ended up doing. Somewhere, their brothers and sisters still remained not just bound to a body but trapped, enslaved, subservient.

They cant their head at the man's resolve. A short nod. Hands folding as they walk. So then it will be. "You don't truly believe it's a goose, do you?"

Fortunately Simon probably wouldn't be around long enough to fully sink into becoming what he fought so hard against. He wasn't fool enough to think he could defeat this completely. What he could do, however, was choose how he burned himself out. At least that was the hope. His ambition was a simple one: Balance. Nothing so grandiose as the betterment of humankind or educating the masses or being a venerated hero. Leave that for those more suited to it. He would fade into the shadows where he belonged.

"It isn't a goose," He confirms. Simon had already found it once but during the bickering between the strange man and woman and Richard Strand he'd lost track. It was enough to give him a glimpse of the nature of the beast, something else simply wore the guise of a goose. "It just looks like a goose."

They're a sucker for grandiose, unsurprisingly. After all, they fucking exploded and created all of this. Perhaps Omega should have killed them. It would have been so easy, and yet. For whatever reason... they did not. Life's little mysteries. On the upside, Simon has a far more palatable understanding of the eventual reality.

"Longevity and immortally can get boring from time to time." a few chuckles roll out. "I can't blame it." Although they're also not in any way, shape, or form, really helping. Simon can find it and maybe they'll watch. Just to see what happens.

Simon is certainly dramatic, but not so much grandiose. He prefers to control the narrative and how he'll be displayed within it, and that means choosing a very specific audience for his theatrics. Grandiosity requires way too much on time.

"I can only imagine," He is, after all, very much mortal and short lived. Simon doesn't think he'd like to change that, either. Strangely enough Simon doesn't even seem inclined to ask this strange being if they'd be inclined to help. He's just going to take care of it himself, preferably without anyone else getting in the way. It's just a matter of...

There! He stops, head snapping in a direction before soon enough he's following some sense that only he... and perhaps Spirit here, can see. Lights flicker as he reaches out seeking whatever he can to tap into or interfere with that might give him an upper hand. Frustratingly Navi is much more difficult to interfere with than standard security systems. Here? No. Further... yes there is, the honking and the crashing of a goose on a rampage. Not far now.

"One day you might not need to imagine." Their tone is all but pleased and perky as if talking about how pleasant the weather is. Yes, yes you can indeed expect them to continue poking at that.

As for the goose as it were, Spirit may or may not already know where it is. If they do, they're not particularly inclined to help with that either. They'll follow, though. Part curiosity and part nothing much else to do at the moment. There's other interesting souls here but also plenty of time for that. So, Aether observes with mild amusement when the elusive thing hops from place to place a few times before it seems to be cornered.

Now the fun part: how will Simon fair against it?

That little dig earned a scowl. Spirit really did enjoy prodding that raw nerve didn't he? As long as they don't go blabbing about it to the wrong people though, fine, Simon will deal. He's not exactly sure what he would do if they decided to, anyway... Unimportant.

What is important is shutting up the goose.

Finding the goose was relatively easy when one could be in two places at once, especially when one part was unimpeded by physical barriers like walls and doors. The goose had made its way into one of the lounges, leaving a trail of feathers and destruction in its wake. The lounge itself was the sight of goose-tastrophe. Upturned furniture, cushions torn to pieces, all manner of fowl related... foulness.

Now, a standard run of the mill domestic goose wouldn’t be too much trouble to deal with. But this creature, this eldritch entity guised in the visage of a goose was an entirely different story. For one, it was not only aware of Simon’s shadowy form lurking within the room it was capable of interacting with it. Which he found out violently when he’d tried to cheat and take care of the problem quickly, claws reached out only to be snapped back by a furiously honking and snapping beak. Outside of the room Simon jumps back, hissing softly to himself on instinct. Alright, so… dangerous. He really wished he had that sheet those guys had been bickering about.

No sense moaning about it, he’ll make do with what he has. With his shadow self able to flit around at impossible speed he sought to keep the devil goose distracted while he moved into the room. There weren’t many options for weapons but during its rampaging around the goose had brought along a few kitchen knives which suited Simon just fine, like old times. Scooping one up he’s quick to deflect a snapping beak. The shadow moves, like a lightning bolt it struck out at the goose sending it flying across the room. Recovering quickly the goose went on the offense, lunging at Simon with wings beating and that horrible snapping beak.

As it turns out, the goose hits like a truck.

Simon might be a powerful psychic, but he was still very much a slightly malnourished squishy human. The goose’s attack sent him hitting the wall with impressive force, his shadow self responding by tossing some furniture. From here the whole thing started to look like a cartoon with flying furniture, a man knife-fighting a goose, and a goose able to produce a wallop like a professional boxer.

This all happened alarmingly fast, given the way Simon’s shade could move certainly shortened the time needed for a fight. In the end he had taken a few too many blows and was struggling to keep himself going. The goose, shockingly, was also winded and a little damaged. Although shadowy psychic boy vs. eldritch goose was never going to be a particularly even fight. The odds were stacked just a bit too high for poor Simon.

Ah -- seems that the target has been acquired. While Simon fought, Spirit found themself wondering why a goose of all things. Its just one of those questions they never got around to asking the first time. Too late now, Spirit supposed.

For the first while, they were thoroughly unhelpful. Tucked somewhere in the shadowy corners, Quintessence was more than happy to simply watch the bloodbath and wholeheartedly amused by Simon's relentless determination. This monster was vicious, as geese often were (guess it was fitting after all). All at once it escalated from kitchen knives and honking beaks to a tornado of fury.

The eldritch goose was, needless to say, angry. Amidst the flying wood and metal, flickering lights and feathers that became razor sharp shadowy tendrils came a beak full of teeth much like Aether's own smile. Cute, wasn't it? Teeth that caught on to the shadowy figure of Simon, dug deep into skin and bone, clawing and chomping its way through. Simon put up a valiant fight, but. The end of this was frankly inevitable.

Unless Omega chose to do something.

They might, but they let the man bleed a little for his cause. The gurgling chokes of life backed up into a corner amongst the chaos. They watch, stepping forward a few paces. Vacant eyes fixed on the scene of Simon's struggle. In those halls where the two bodies still stood, that silver face turned toward a more fleshy visage now torn and bloodied. Dripping and sputtered on floor and walls. "But still human," they confirmed.

And toward the monster did their mouth opened wide, cracking the silver in half with thousands of pointy teeth. Like light was disappearing itself, sucked into the blackened pit of this entities mouth, swallowing its body until everything was black. Gut retching snaps and cracks of who knew what, squealing honks and other more unidentifiable sounds radiated throughout the ship until all at once there was silence. In a snap, Spirit's body returned and the goose was gone.

Edited (woops spelling) 2021-03-25 20:57 (UTC)

Oh he's bleeding alright. Even beginning to falter Simon was viciously relentless in his assault, up until it was his shade who drew the goose's ire. As soon as that was latched onto with vicious eldritch teeth he knew he was in too deep. The pain was agonizing, enough to take him to his knees and nearly knock him out then and there. Anything that could attack that part of him directly was a force to be reckoned with.

For how far Simon had gone and how much he teetered on the edge, he still was just human.

He saw Omega move, met the being's eyes briefly before ducking away from more goose assault. Never did he ask for help. Maybe he should have, maybe that would have been wise, but no. Too proud, this one. Or perhaps he knew that ultimately if Omega chose to help it would be of their own whimsy and not really by any suggestion of his own.

Yet in the end they did.

Simon couldn't see all of what just transpired, but he witnessed enough to be glad it wasn't him caught in those jaws. Gladder still he didn't watch the entire act, as it might have been enough to shatter what fragile mind he had left. Instead he'd closed his eyes and just slumped against a wall, leaving a rather nice smear of blood on his way down. Yeah, maybe... he'll just have a nap here. Thanks for the hand though, Spirit, much appreciated.

It may be a lot to take in for some, the complete deconstruction of something. It was not a natural end, consumed by nothingness and torn apart atom by atom in one brilliant blinding streak of white until all returned to "normal". And so there they were, well they were several places but that's beside the point.

Spirit shifts their head toward the slide and thud. Simon was right about one thing, or several things honestly. There are ways to coerce an elemental into working with you, but even then one must be very powerful to control them when they decide to not co-operate. Omega very much acts on the whims of their own. Now especially. With this freedom, an ask would have worked but it might not have. Besides, they understood pride.

"Well you do have spirit, don't you?" They chuckle, moseying toward the man to simply sit nearby. "I am," a hand gesticulated, "unfortunately the end of things and not the beginning of things."

Which is to say they can't keep you alive, but they can help you die faster.

Certainly a viscerally and deeply disturbing experience, much like the destruction Simon imagined they faced should Tiamat ever take hold. Well... not much use worrying about that anymore was there?

Shit.

Yeah he definitely fucked this up. Not that he knew for certain he was getting home in time to abscond with the Horn of Tiamat anyway. Maybe there wasn't going to be any stopping the end, and this way he didn't have to watch it go. He'll never know for sure, maybe in a way that's for the best. There's still hope. Even if he's not there to help along the way.

He does crack one eye open, lolling his head to the side to give Spirit a look. Simon didn't actually mind the company, it beat dying alone with only his own thoughts. Probably. There weren't any magical flashbacks witnessing his life played out before him, just pain and cold and quiet. Although... the pain wasn't really that bad. Shock? Yeah he thinks that's shock setting in. That's fine.

"I'll wait," No thanks on the quicker death, Spirit, he's fine. Let him enjoy what time he may or may not have left. Conserve energy, that's the ticket right now. "Before I came here, I watched the most beautiful sunset in Istanbul. I'd have liked to watch it one more time." Just sit and chat about nothing with him for a bit. He'll run out of energy to keep it up soon enough.

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CW: Bad puns, violence and blood

more violence

So much blood tho

seems like it needs some more tho

It could always get worse!