Becoming an Aspect, Personal Conversations with Someone

edited July 2014 in World Library
These logs are so old, I figure it's okay to share them now.  Also because I look back at them as the fondest memories I've had playing Lusternia(aside from Elostian making jabs at the Archmage).  It also makes my head spin that I managed to talk like that at all.  Interesting to see the phases of Tetra's relationship with Mys.  Really quite sad, actually.  The conversation about True Will ended up being the ultimate outcome.



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Kneeling humbly, you press your palms together before you and close your eyes momentarily as you pray devoutly to Mysrai, the Hermit Clad in Saffron, "I consider the pauper who panhandles in the dark alley. Despite his pleas, only coppers fell in his lap. Taking what was given, he cut coarse trinkets from fragmented dreams. He made no profit, yet he was the wealthiest man. And so the pauper with his coppers left the dark alley to become a merchant of indigo."



An echoing, papery voice murmurs, "I hear your words, My Tetra."



Mysrai, the Hermit Clad in Saffron intones, "You would walk between the veils of indigo, then?"



Tetra inclines her head to thin air.



The Hermit's eyes whirl with stars, skeins of saffron wreathing His form in a panoply of fiery light.



You say, "Indeed, my Lord..So that I may please You with Dreams and True Will in my heart."



Mysrai, the Hermit Clad in Saffron intones, "Know well, My Tetra, that each Path is but an abstraction that each blinkered Beloved might behold a path over the first steps of the Void."



Mysrai, the Hermit Clad in Saffron intones, "For truly, there is no one path, nor one way for every Beloved."



Mysrai, the Hermit Clad in Saffron intones, "Walk now amidst My Indigo, but know that My eye upon you and My Will upon you shall change little."



Mysrai's eyes gleam, stars shifting swiftly within the Void-black orbs.



Reality solidifies, mending itself into a single paradigm as Mysrai departs.



Tears flow freely from your eyes as Mysrai, the Hermit Clad in Saffron appoints you to Imago.



Softly, a hand touches your cheek, and you behold a veil of copper spotted with sapphire stars. Even amidst this, motes of gleaming, ivory moonstone and shivering, bloodlike ruby gleam, swirled within translucent fabric.



You say, "You say Your will shall not change, my Lord...Yet mine does not want to walk a path cast in the shadow of another."



                                                                                           "A man's not dead while his name is still spoken."  - Terry Pratchett 1948-2015

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    • edited July 2014

      A soft, resinous voice whispers, "Come to Me, Tetra. Come, hear My words."
       
      (The Sacrosanct): You say, "Where does Your Hand beckon, my Lady?"
       
      (The Sacrosanct): Mysrai says, "Come unto My Fulcrux, My Tetra."
       
       
      Billowing smoke accompanies the intoxicating aroma of sweet resins, wafting lazily from burning censers.
       
      Mercurial paradigms manifest into chaotic images, their fleeting forms dissipating into the aether as quickly as they came.
                                                   
                                                   
      [Travel Spam]
                                                   
                                                   
                                                   
                                                   
                                                   
      --- the Fulcrux of Mysrai ------- 0:-2:-2 ---
      The Fulcrux of Mysrai.Throughout the location, small dancing flames flicker and spark. The walls of this rounded chamber are dimly illuminated by burning coals within a copper bowl at the centre, but remain no more distinct than any of the shadowy carvings upon their surface. At times, the walls seem as though they are mere veils between open air and the fire-illumined ring: at others, they are whirling sand or solid stone. Despite this, figures in various races shift and change, gone in seconds or less, with the only constant remaining the pinpricks of alien constellations within. The ceiling is a canopy of silk, or veils, or shifting realities, with loose poppy blossoms floating amidst it, or upon it, in tears of white and red and indigo. Lending a chill to its surroundings, a tulip of dusk lays here. Deserted here, a scroll bears the sigil of an all-seeing eye that stares into space. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. Oilslick patterns ripple across the silken folds of this veil as it flutters between two paradigms. Veils of reality bounded by skeins of ivory and blood-hued blossoms twist and shiver above a poppy-inlaid vessel filled with burning coals. A complicated metal armband lies here, pretty and puzzling all at once. A sheet of Vortex-creature stationery has been dropped here. A bright red poppy lies here, petals askew. A three-layered raspberry sponge cake is here, looking delicious. A happy lion cup cake lies here, looking a little sad. A cup cake sits here, its top gleaming with a scaly silver. A sponge cake shaped into a desk sits here, a fondant librarian perched upon it. A circular white cake sits here, decorated by yellow lilies. A festive peach birthday cake has been left here. Mysrai, the Thousand Hands floats here, surrounded by twisting manifestations of half-realised paradigms. She wields a rod of three keys in copper in Her left hand.
      You see a single exit leading through a fluttering veil.
      [ (v23580) not mapped ]
       
      Mysrai smiles softly.
       
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "I am well-pleased with My Beloved who stood before My Doors of Perception and witnessed the forging of My keys."
       
      Tetra bows her head, weaving her fingers into a knotted mudra.
       
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "So too am I pleased with My Tetra whose service has been long and well unto Me."
       
       
      The favour of Mysrai has worn off.
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands lifts Her truefavour from you.
       
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands has bestowed Her divine truefavour upon you. It will last for 30 months.
       
       
      Mysrai smiles softly.
       
      You say, "Such faith is born only from Your generous patronage...I could not ask for more, my Lady."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Know that in time I would see My Tetra and the first among My servants stand as My aspects. Pray this time does not linger overlong."
       
       
      A single star-scattered eye winks from the palm of a hand held over Mysrai's blue-lipped mouth.
       
      Pausing between her words, you say, "I shall see to it that the Dream becomes manifest. But one question, Thousandfold...?"
       
      Mysrai smiles softly.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Speak, My Tetra."
       
      Filled with thoughtful longing, you say, "Sebitti...Her Will lives on in Your Beloved, inherited by the Veiled. Might we ever see such a paradigm again?"
       
      You stand up and stretch your arms out wide.
      You purse your lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as you carefully gather your thoughts.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "What is remembered is never truly lost."
       
      The sun reaches the zenith of the firmament, pausing in his quest to allow the land to bask in his shining golden rays.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "What is grasped by True Will is made manifest."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Let your will be strong, My Tetra, and resolute, and perhaps such a paradigm might be born once more."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "For the chambers and galleries of My heart and the Keys were forged through the dreams and passion of My Beloved."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Through such things, what might be known in the mysteries of True Will?"
       
      Veils of pale copper energies swirl briefly in the air about Mysrai's form before settling.
       
      Nodding slowly, you say, "Such counsel puts my tensions at ease, Thousandfold. May Your aspects emerge unhindered."
       
      You purse your lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as you carefully gather your thoughts.
       
      You say, "True Will...Something we all seek to grasp, much like Enlightenment."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Indeed. Many are the mortal passions which cast shadows over the seeking."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "There are those amongst My Beloved who have sought My counsel on the Aspect My Nataely embodies for such reasons."
       
      The shifting aura of arms focuses briefly into six palms, the eyes staring unblinkingly upon you from within Mysrai's limbs.
       
      You say, "I believe True Will is something dormant, within us all. The potential to create, the transient flow of reality at the mercy of dreams.."
       
      You say, "Many speak of fate, inevitable reaction...Yet all are encompassed in the Will. True Will. It cannot be explained simply.."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "In each mortal, there are shards that strive towards Enlightenment."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "In each mortal, there are flaws which cast them from this path and cause them to stumble and fall as their own ego blinds them briefly from transcendence. For no mortal may be perfect - even My Aspects."
       
       
      You nod your head slowly in understanding.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "My Tetra, speak to Me of your belief in this matter. Why would We appoint one as Nataely, whose intemperate passions flare on occasion to foolishness?"
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "As you well know, having felt the sting of her brash words and anger."
       
      A single star-scattered eye winks from the palm of a hand held over Mysrai's blue-lipped mouth.
       
      Continuing the hunt for his dark mate, Father Sun presses forward in his journey, lowering himself in the sky yet still casting even, full light upon the land.
       
      Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, you say, "Such an answer may be as varied and as detailed as your manifold forms - though I may try to endeavor an explanation."
       
      You say, "Mortals are by nature, erratic and unpredictable. At times, their inner children present themselves as guides of better or worse judgment - something of a behaviour that has been imprinted upon the psyche."
       
      You say, "Some may sound very mature, but like any child, all they desire is love and acceptance."
       
      You say, "The Beloved might learn to embrace the Aspects of Their Lord-and-Lady, perhaps even their own conflicting selves that shift within."
       
      Mysrai's eyes gleam, stars shifting swiftly within the Void-black orbs.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "This is a measure of the truth and an aspect of it. Like any explanation, it is but one facet of the whole, even as My seeming is but one facet."
       
      You nod your head slowly in understanding.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Amongst My Beloved in the first days, there came unto Me a community of exiles. Those deemed worthless by those in power. Those who felt betrayed and alienated from My Sister. Those who sought power. Those who sought glory. Those who sought Enlightenment."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Many of My first Beloved came seeking acceptance unknown, for they themselves were exiles, imperfect, or cast out."
       
      Comprehension flashes across your face.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Such was My Nataely. Such are many others."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "For indeed, a mortal who perceives themselves as alone is prone to despair and foolishness. Passion may drive them further into unreasonable deeds - those who are otherwise useful boons may turn to banes."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Even was My Brother's forests may become overgrown and choke out other life without discipline, so may the passions of My Beloved run rampant and their inner children be exposed."
       
      You say, "It was the case with my departure of the Overcity, into Your embrace...How callous of me."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Passion may be guided by True Will and True Will by passion. For mortals, it is difficult to perceive the difference."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Amongst My Own, with these exiles at My breast, My edict is simple: that My Beloved are Beloved of Me and Beloved of each other. For who else shall care for and nurture My Own beside Me but My Own?"
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "All mortals are shards and imperfect. But through care and winnowing and discipline, and the support of their own at their back, so might they become more than the measure of what they might."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Some may flee in rage, their egos destroying what they would be. This too has occurred within My Beloved."
       
      You say, "I feel as though a blinker has been lifted from mine eyes...How blind I have been to overlook it."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Enlightenment lies not in seeking perfection and being always perfect, but in being defeated and failing and rising again."
       
      Mysrai's eyes gleam, stars shifting swiftly within the Void-black orbs.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "My Nataely is foolish. Often prone to fits of rage which she soon regrets. Prone to despair at her sense of self-imposed isolation."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "My Nataely knows well her foolishness and seeks to mend this, as imperfect as she is. Thus, she seeks always. Thus, My Will lies upon her: that she be winnowed and polished and disciplined, even as a child might."
       
      Hands intones, "For I know well that My Own are not perfect and may fall. I know well the ego of shards that is quick to bruise and be offended."
       
      A single star-scattered eye winks from the palm of a hand held over Mysrai's blue-lipped mouth.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "I know well that My Tetra is not immune to such things."
       
      Comprehension flashes across your face.
       
      Your eyes sparkle with amusement.
       
      You say, "I cannot doubt her dedication to You, and her faith spans at great length. We were once close, but I fear circumstances change with the sands of time."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Even as My Sebitti, what is broken may be mended - with great time and effort and patience."
       
      Mysrai's eyes sparkle with amusement.
       
      Your eyes sparkle with amusement.
       
      Thunder shakes the night sky as the stars flicker and peek through dark and heavy clouds.
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Be at peace, Tetra. Cultivate the ivory close to your heart and within My Beloved. Care for Our flawed and imperfect shards, even as their edges are sharp and likely to cut."
       
      Mysrai reaches out to tenderly cup your cheek in Her hand.
       
      You say, "I understand, my Lady..Let Your Will be known to the Beloved, and Their support be rallied in unison."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "My Order must stand united, an example of Ivory to the city, lest the City fall back into the foolish chaos it stood as before."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "For the shadows of the Flame must never blot out the light again."
       
      You nod your head affirmatively.

      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Such is My Will. Such must be the Will of My Beloved that they sacrifice their egos to seek this goal together."
       
      Mysrai smiles softly.
       
      You say, "It shall be done, under One Law. One Law under Love."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Seek well your True Will and the blossoming of your shard towards Me, My Tetra. I will watch, My Beloved."
       
      Mysrai, the Thousand Hands intones, "Tetra Alin'dor, do My Will!"
       
      Reality solidifies, mending itself into a single paradigm as Mysrai departs.
       
      You incline your head politely to those around you.
       
      Tetra mumbles an incorehent prayer, clutching her fingers in an inverted mudra.

                                                                                             "A man's not dead while his name is still spoken."  - Terry Pratchett 1948-2015

    • edited July 2014
      That time Mys let me create a Paradigm.  Indigo was sublimated in the process, so that pissed off a few people.  Thus, the beginning of Pesukaru x Tetra beef started.




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      A single thread of coppery energy twirls about the Flame. Within it, a shivering of veils is born, manifesting as an aurora of aurulent hues.
       
      An echoing, smoky voice intones, "I behold My Tetra and her manifestation of the Resins."
       
      A pang of agony and ecstasy resounds in your mind, a thousand veils unfolding and refolding, a tensing and spasming of muscles where few often stir.
       
      Tetra breathes in deeply, her voice caught in her throat as she inhales - lidded eyes fluttering madly.
       
      Your lungs burn as you inhale: you behold the Dusk shading to indigo, the Dawn shading to golden luminescence in the Void, a thousand hues unnamed and renamed and unknown blossoming in a panoply of incomprehensibility.
       
      Tetra stares wonderstruck into blank space, drinking in her surroundings with a fevered expression.
       
      Ixion's organs have been rendered into a messy pulp due to extreme decompression.
      You see the death occur at suspended in a giant, translucent bubble.
       
      The visions build to a rush of blood, spinning through your veins with feverish resolve, a skein of smoke blooming inside your lungs, accompanied by the blossoming of a vast, saffron poppy in your mind's eye.
       
      With a soundless explosion, with an echoing reverberation, your mind is seized, then slowed, burning resins insinuating themselves through your veins, bringing intoxication and weakness both in a wash of power.
       
      Tears flow freely from your eyes as Mysrai, The Crooked Gentleman appoints you to Saffron Veil.
       
      Tears flow freely from your eyes as Mysrai, The Crooked Gentleman appoints you to Saffron Paradigm.
       
      (Order): Mysrai says, "Tetra Alin'dor, do My Will!"
       
      Tetra brings her fingers to her lips, shaking with ecstatic elation. Her Void-black pupils dilate and retract once more, flickering a shade of gilded saffron.
       
      (Order): You say, "As Your Will ordains, my Lord, so shall it be done with pleasure - riven from lust of result."
       
       

                                                                                             "A man's not dead while his name is still spoken."  - Terry Pratchett 1948-2015

    • edited July 2014
      Then becoming an Aspect and reviving Sebitti, because dream powers. She was sacrificed prior to the opening of Her Godrealm, when Viynain was made avatar.  Unfortunately, a don't have the other logs anymore, but these were the most meaty of them.




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      You purse your lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as you carefully gather your thoughts.
       
       
      Above, the air shifts subtly, growing liquid, honeyed. A single petal, golden and gilded, winks into existence, circling... circling...
       
       
      You look up into the air for divine inspiration.
       
      ...circling...
       
       
       
      Bewitching melodies drift languidly upon the air, heralding the entrance of Laxinova as she glides in from the west.
       
       
      Laxinova stares at you blinking, obviously confused.
       
      Tetra lifts her hand skyward, reaching her hands languidly towards the gilded petal.
       
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      --- before the Bridge of Qlarak  -12:24:2 ---
      Threads of burning aether radiate a blistering heat as they drift through the air, originating from a war shrine of Kalikai nearby. Throughout the location, small dancing flames flicker and spark. A painting of The Urchin in Ivory Surrounded by Pastries is proudly exhibited on a nearby wall, with an inscription on a plaque on its frame. Like a shadow upon the ground, a midnight black rose has been left here.
      You see exits leading northeast, east, and southeast.


       
      Your eyes blur, and you stand before the edge of a great precipice. Within, somewhere below, a great crystalline beacon blinks slowly, regularly, calling out to the endless darkness.
       
       
      A honeyed voice rises as if in answer from the below, echoing from the walls of the great chasm. Over the depths, a key of naught but melted wreckage and fragment manifests. Coppery energy swirls about it, petals and banners and whispering motes.
       
      Tetra glimpses down at the abyssal crevasse, a determined smile crossing her lips as she braces the steep edge.
       
       
      Mysrai reaches out to tenderly cup your cheek in Her hand.
       
      She is a radiant immortal and is painted in swirling festival hues, Her skin gleaming with essence and powdered rubies, pearls, and sapphires. Intact emeralds twinkle from the hollow of Her throat: saffron tourmalines swirl in spirals over Her hips. Glittering lines of black onyx and powdered citrine line Her Void-black eyes in patterns of feathers and scales, framing the slow-whirling constellations that hang against the dark. In form, She is amply-curved, bearing a sleek skin of jade-hued scales enameled with carnelian and sunstones. Her head is bare of all save a mehndi of golden and aquamarine in which sigils wrought from essence shift through slow, inexorable patterns. She is wearing a shifting, clinging dress of riotous veils, armwound beads of ivory and resin, a quivering circlet of ghostly poppies and an ivory poppy lapel pin.
       
       
      Mysrai, Empress of Bright Aspects intones, "In the depths, your dream has resounded, My Tetra. In the emptiness, your dream has found Will to anchor it to reality."
       
      Mysrai, Empress of Bright Aspects intones, "Our Sibyl has drawn from the dreaming what has been sundered."
       
      Sebitti Silkenhand strides in from the east, hooves ringing out like bells.
       
      Tetra lowers her head briefly, lifting her gaze up towards Mysrai with a hopeful look in her eyes.
       
      You glance askance.
       
      Her eyes sparkling with coppery energies, Sebitti Silkenhand says, "I heard you. In the abyss, when Shulamit shone for me, I found her to look upon and I heard you."
       
      Someone powerful's divine voice echoes across the land, "Yes."
       
       
      Veradin Munsia D'cente` thunders, "No."
       
      Tetra turns slowly, a voidborn wind picking up as it blusters between her and Sebitti.
       
       
      Sebitti Silkenhand tilts her head, a soft smile on her lips.
       
      You smile softly.
       
      Softly, Sebitti Silkenhand says, "My Lord-and-Lady. My dear Tetra."
       
      Sebitti Silkenhand performs a graceful curtsey.
       
      Laxigoddess Laxinova Lunarose, Meditational Warrior shouts, "Yes!"
       
      Tall, lithe, and lovely, Sebitti Silkenhand seems almost a construct of various lovely aspects of the varied races. Two long white horns rise from her temples, rising vertically like spires amidst a fall of long black hair: a septagram is woven between them in knotted strands of ivory silk. Her face bears human features, but her eyes are slitted, amber and multi-lidded above her thin lips. Her form is clad in tanned skin: her arms are adorned with tattoos of dracnari script, and the outline of a single poppy is branded above exposed breast. A single-shouldered gown of pleated brown worked with embroidery interlocking white sigils covers the other and falls to where her legs become silver-shoed black hooves.
      Sebitti Silkenhand has an air of extreme strength.
       
      Sebitti Silkenhand gives you a compassionate hug.
       
      You smile and say to Sebitti Silkenhand, "I knew we'd meet again, friend."
       
      You give Sebitti Silkenhand a compassionate hug.
       
      Sebitti Silkenhand says to you, "In the far galleries. We still have harems to assemble, do we not?"
       
      Mysrai's eyes gleam, stars shifting swiftly within the Void-black orbs.
       
      Mysrai, Empress of Bright Aspects intones, "We have not come simply to inform you of your success, Our Sibyl."
       
      Mysrai, Empress of Bright Aspects intones, "Be of Ours of Saffron and Indigo and Copper and all, for so have you served Us in your devotions and becomings."
       
      Mysrai kisses you passionately.
       
      Mysrai has imbued you with great powers, use them wisely.
       
      The air comes alive with veils of saffron and golden, your eyes blurring as you soar above the abyss, a thousand petals or fragments of will cast and recast in fiery energy.
       
      Mysrai, Empress of Bright Aspects intones, "Tetra Alin'dor, do My Will!"
       
      Sebitti Silkenhand beams broadly.
       
      Your eyes sparkle with amusement.
       
      You nod your head affirmatively at Mysrai.
       
      Reality solidifies, mending itself into a single paradigm as Mysrai departs.
       
      The sound of ringing bells accompanies Sebitti Silkenhand as she strides out to the east.

                                                                                             "A man's not dead while his name is still spoken."  - Terry Pratchett 1948-2015

    • rofl @ ixion popping in the bubble, and anonymous god going "Yes." and Munsia, true to form, "NO."


      Decent logs. Thanks, Tetra.
    • LavinyaLavinya Queen of Snark Australia
      I giggled at Ixion popping in the bubble too, haha..



    • I MISS SEBITTI SO MUCH!
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