aionchat | THE REGENT'S ADDRESS [OPEN TO ALL]

Entry tags:

#the regent

THE REGENT'S ADDRESS [OPEN TO ALL]

[It comes on fast, once the Regent has your spirit in their hold. Around you, you may see other Aions stumble in the same moment, as if shaken by the same tectonic motion. An inexorable darkness claws at your senses, and you have only a few moments, hard fought, to reposition yourself so that you don't simply drop to the ground when it overtakes you. It has similarities to Communion, to the way another entity's thoughts and words reach out to your mind, but by the same token it's entirely foreign.

This presence is not like another person, it is like a raging, screaming cacophony that drowns out everything else in its path. Whether you be Kenoma or Pleroma, the Regent's presence in this metaphysical realm is staggering. To the Pleroma, though, it also feels caustic, as if the movement of their aura is enough to erode your own, with time.

Gradually, a new world forms. Unlike other Communions, where you are ultimately grounded in reality, here you can been dragged to what seems to be its own distinct psychic realm. A vast, void-filled courtroom, where only the throne at its front has a defined form. Around you, you see shadows of other people, other Aions, that have summoned along with you... but for the moment they seem spectral and unclear, their identities obscured by the realm's aggressive focus on its master.

The Regent sits at their throne, their body swathed in dark fabrics that drift and flutter like smoke. They have no face to be seen, only a faceted silver mask, without any markings or the barest indication of what might be beneath it. Their size is indistinct, maybe a bit taller than you are. They at first sit reclined, but straight up as their 'guests' arrive.]

It's been a long time coming, my subjects.

[At first, they are the only one that can be heard. Though you feel as if you have some physical presence here, a shadowy body of your own, if you attempt to speak no sound emerges.]

To the Pleroma: well done surviving thus far. Granted, I feel as if my Kenoma have made things easy for you. How strange, that most of you were allowed to wander a city within my empire without recourse. Able to summon that wretched creature to your side, even.

I hope you've enjoyed yourself, in the time you've had, because this will be no more. You've spread your infection in Venera, in Godsblood, and it is only necessary that these wounds be cleansed by the touch of the Kenoma. Your presence gives the people ideas... ideas that would disrupt the fragile peace they've come to enjoy, after so many years of suffering. As a kindness, I will only trim the vine, rather than burn the vineyard. What Venerans have taken up your cause, I will see shorn from my empire. And in Godsblood... an example will be made, as of the Sovereign's moon.

My Kenoma will do this for me. Fight them, if you want. But know that I am no longer asking for your fealty. I am demanding it.

[As if opening their court for questions, you will find yourself more able to act. Those that speak or take action will find their physical forms taking shape, standing in the court as people rather than shadows. If you want to question the Regent, now is the time to do so.

OOC: This post is a free for all! We will try to response as the Regent to people who directly engage with them, but you are also allowed to threadjack and interact with each other if you like. Please note that we will not be responding to tag ins done later than the 12th.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...Please tell me. The end that you speak of - the one you're striving towards alongside the Regent...

[ Abel's voice is soft, but carries with it his Deep Concern. Paul, did you know you're Deeply Concerning? this whole thing is definitely Deeply Concerning, for the record. ]

Can you speak to what it means? What it really means for all the souls sacrificed to reach it? How you know their suffering would result in solace...?

Do you know what awaits us at that end? Or... do you simply believe what was promised to you?

[ it isn't accusatory. if anything, Abel's inquiry is sincerely probing: he wants to know if Paul speaks from a place of faith - or if he has seen, come to know something definitive the Pleroma do not. ]

[He can read the Deep Concern, though he can't quite gauge what it's for.]

Several of those with you seem to believe that I'm either determined to lie to you or that I simply don't know any better, due to either being some kind of deranged or just not knowing what I'm talking about. But you would trust the answer I give you?

I'll trust the conviction of your faith. Because... maybe it is naive, but-- I believe you truly mean this. All of this.

[ he doesn't see this man as a liar, nor does he see this as some elaborate attempt to pull the wool over their eyes. there is something in Paul's disposition, in his voice...

Paul believes this. this is coming from his heart. and what Abel has seen of this man - brief glimpses in the cavern; the long trail from the shrines to that horrible place; the kindness he had offered others along the way... it leads Abel to believe this isn't a malicious, manipulative soul.

maybe he's wrong. but Abel is willing to be wrong and have a little faith, himself. ]

I'll listen. Without judgment, if you'd be kind enough to humor me.

Whether it's naïve or not, it's good of you. Because I wouldn't be telling you any of this if I didn't believe it.

[The conviction he's been showing this entire time doesn't waver; it doesn't falter, just as it hasn't for the other discussions he's had about this. All of this simply is what it is - something he has a lot of emotional stake in, surely, but moreover something that he's willing to die in the defense of.]

I can speak to the solace that comes after, because I've experienced it. Perhaps not in the way that you're asking about, but I've known the suffering the Regent speaks of. I understand the uncertainty that comes with the idea of facing the end, the sort that makes you hate yourself, because you're supposed to know better than this. The fear. That's probably the worst, the fear. It's the last thing that remains, by the way. The last block to letting go and just letting things progress.

I've known what it's like, and I've seen what's at the end of it. It's peace; that much I promise you.

[ of all the things Abel might've expected to hear - it wasn't this.

the consternation shows on his face in the crease at his brow, something surprised leaking into blue eyes where they remain fixed, attentive as he absorbs Paul's explanation. so, then... what he truly has faith in - what he's seen, what he's felt... ]

...Can I ask-- when? When you saw this... end, sir?

[ there is no mistaking it. what Paul speaks of is death - no. not merely death, but what comes after.

how, had he...

... ]

[He doesn't look away, maintaining eye contact for as long as he's permitted; his faith is unshakeable, that much is clear.]

A few months ago, at most.

[Before he was brought here. Before all of this. But recent, still.]

[ there's another beat, another pause as Abel decides how best to digest and respond to this. ]

...Can I ask what leads you to believe that's what awaits us here were the Regent to succeed? The end you speak of... I can't say for sure, but... it's-- natural. Isn't it?

[ death; dying. a cycle every man innately knows - even if one is not supposed to return from it under any circumstances. ]

What the Regent offers... it isn't a natural end to all things. It's the forceful snuffing out of... millions. Billions of lives, of worlds beyond our understanding.

[ does Paul believe it 'universal?' this... end, this peaceful solace that awaits them?

even if it was... Abel doesn't know it is any consolation. but knowing how Paul feels-- hearing him out, it's important. ]

What I experienced... It was and it wasn't natural. It's a complicated situation.

[One he doesn't seem inclined to elaborate on if left to his own preferences, evidently. He doesn't seem offended, or like he's closing himself off, it's just...something that happened to him, really.]

I'm aware of what they offer. All things end, eventually, and it's never going to be by the will of man. It's natural to want to cling to life and what remains. I'm guilty of it myself.

But it's only through the grace and force of something stronger than ourselves that there can be peace.

But there's an important distinction to be made, don't you think so...?

[ Abel will not press Paul on the manner of his... complicated... circumstances - not here, at least. it sounds personal, and this conversation isn't exactly a private one. maybe there might be opportunities down the line; Abel thinks he would like that.

instead... he focuses on the larger subject at hand. ]

There's a difference between shepherding a life to its end... and to wiping it out. How can you be sure that the 'end' the Regent offers is a peaceful one?

What if it isn't...? And... even if it were-- who are we to judge whether or not all those lives should come to know it this way?

[Any opportunities that arise to discuss things privately would be welcomed; he sees no real reason to feel otherwise. This is suprisingly civil, after all.]

Your assuming that it's different is the fear I'm talking about. And I understand if you can't let go of that. For a long time, I couldn't let go of that. I couldn't let go of a lot of things.

But the Kenoma...helps. It gives whatever you experience a purpose. Life isn't arbitrary, and it isn't meaningless. Some of you assume that we're saying that, but we aren't. It's the opposite, actually. Knowing that you're working toward healing the suffering the world experiences on a constant basis is one of the highest purposes that one can work toward.

[ ...this is enlightening, if nothing else. it's the first time anyone has been able to articulate things this way for him in quite this manner, and for a long beat--

Abel goes quiet to give it a momentary thought. he doesn't want to make light of this, after all - to make light of Paul's beliefs and his way of thinking, and he appreciates the open dialogue in this place of all places.

...but even so, perhaps theirs are two viewpoints that might never meet. it doesn't hurt, though, does it? talking like this, sharing how they feel bereft of judgment... ]

Do you believe the suffering man feels now is meaningless? That it's without purpose?

[ an earnest question. does the Kenoma give it additional meaning in Paul's eyes?

or does he feel that the trials of life are simply senseless to begin with, bereft of that purpose?

maybe it's neither. Abel would like to know. ]

[He actually has to take a moment to consider that; as always, he doesn't seem shaken by the question - whether he's just even-tempered to a fault or someone that's very, very good at poker is difficult to tell for the time being. But he does want to give the question due consideration; he owes this individual that much, at least.]

I wouldn't say it's meaningless, not with the way the world is now. Not with the way everything ties together, the way everything works. It shapes us, doesn't it? That's the point that's usually meant to be made when questions like this are asked, and I get it. I know know things like that have shaped me, at least.

As for without purpose... That's not exactly it, either.

[Mm.]

What we believe is that it doesn't have to be this way. Suffering doesn't have to be a part of the eternal plan that's laid out for us. We deserve better. So do you.

I think the word we're looking for is "needless", rather than "meaningless."

[ the even keel of Paul's explanation, the patience and humanity behind it is so at odds with everything the Kenoma stands for in so many ways...

and in others, it is its perfect match.

Abel feels his heart sink to realize the duality of this force of nature. the Kenoma is not inherently evil, and neither are those who follow it; he understands and truthfully believes this. but anything... anything if followed to excess can be detrimental. damaging. can cost one precious things they don't realize they've lost until they're too far gone to even feel the loss.

...the same can be said of the Pleroma, of course. it might not be as immediately evident but it, too, is imperfect and capable of irreparable damage. ]

What you describe... this perfect solace-- this end that is nothing but peace... I can understand why you so fervently wish after it, sir.

[ and if what Paul says is as true as Abel believes it is, then this man's motives for seeking such finality are pure-hearted. but... ]

But suffering is only one part of the human condition, and much as it's a painful one... it's a necessary one as well. How do we learn... grow, if not through pain? How do we learn to treasure what's precious to us if we never know hardship or loss? ...If Venera taught us anything, it is precisely that-- that peace won through such means isn't one we can't accept, can we?

Edited (i am extremely good at typing,) 2022-07-13 02:52 (UTC)

Please tell me what cancer patients are learning...?

[There's something a little more invested there now, still calm and even but there's an undercurrent of something.]

Those who have died to plague, or war, or simply because a dictator said so - what growth did they get out of that entire situation? I watched a young girl die of polio once. She drowned in her own lungs. She was ten. Tell me, because I would like to know - what, exactly, was the lesson she was supposed to learn from that?

There are lessons, I guess, that humanity learns - about the plagues, from the wars. My question to you, then, is this: how many people are worth the lesson?

...

[ this question is, ironically enough, one Abel asked from the other side of the fence too many times to count himself. it's a little surreal to be on this end of the discussion now - but things have changed, time has passed, and even if he knows better than to suggest he has the answers... because he doesn't, he also knows neither does Paul.

no one does. not a single man on God's green Earth or any world of His creation-- or beyond it. that, Abel believes.

because there is no answer. there is no good answer to this question. ]

If you were to ask me... ask me personally, my answer might not be a satisfying one.

[ it leaves him quietly. Paul has seen what it is for others to suffer in unconscionable ways, and the gravity of that is one Abel can deeply respect and empathize with. this compassion...

is endearing. and heartbreaking. and, sometimes-- blinding. ]

...Because there is no pain I find acceptable, no price I could put on saving someone - even one someone - from that agony.

But I also know that I... I am not capable of passing judgment on how to balance the scales. And I hope you take no offense when I say this, but... I don't believe you are capable either. None of us are-- we can't be.

[ it is no failing of Paul's person. if anything, Abel thinks this man is one he'd quite like, actually - someone whose heart is achingly good at its core, who suffers to see others suffer, who bleeds for the sake of staunching the flow of blood from those around him, but...

this... this is too far. this is too much. they are not gods; they are men - and to summarily pass judgment, to decide the fate of infinite lives, to hinge everything on a mysterious being that has manipulated and abused each one of them to their last--

...Paul. ...please. does any part of him see the flaw in this? does any part of that achingly human heart not feel the twinge of fear he spoke of? ]

[There's a reason, in the end, that they share a legacy. It's only the sect that differs - unfortunate, really, because the sect is what makes all the difference.

He can see himself in these answers, in the thought processes that go behind them; it's something he might have agreed with once. But that's before the blessings, and the rituals, and everything else that's gone into him and refused to get out again. Perhaps their differences are irreconcilable; perhaps not. He would have liked this person under different circumstances, he knows that much to be true. Maybe there's a chance he still can.

But this is just...]

No. It's not that you can't make that decision; it's that you refuse to. That's the difference that we're looking at.

...Maybe you're right.

[ for all the threads that might bind him and this man in their beliefs, it seems there aren't enough to cross the maw that lies between them. the bridge will only ever go so far before it leads to an empty, terrible fall. neither can make it to the other side - not while things are like this.

Abel hates to acknowledge this reality, but it is what it is. ]

Maybe refusing to make such a choice is a choice in and of itself.

[ some would surely accuse Abel of being a coward were that the case. he would not blame Paul - so utterly rigid, sure in his conviction - of as much. ]

...Even so, I believe there's another way. And I will pray to find it before you and yours are made to do what you cannot take back.

[ oh. if he only knew... ]

[Whether he believes Abel to be a coward or not is a point he doesn't seem inclined to pursue either way; he just takes that in, and he tips his head a little in concession for now.]

Like I said before, I don't hate you, and I don't fault you for feeling as you do. I can see where that prayer is a kindness, coming from you, and I appreciate it; I really do.

...Might I ask you something?

[ the sentiments go both ways. Abel does not begrudge the Kenoma his perspective and appreciates his honesty - as well as his bedside manner when discussing a matter that is personal, something obviously highly-charged for them both. ]

Have you felt that way since the cavern, sir?

[Huh.

The answer isn't immediate; it's another that takes him a moment. Words are his thing, as Amos had put it, but that doesn't mean the ones that are readily available are the ones he wants to put out there. How long had it been? Since the waterfalls in South America, maybe. Maybe even longer. Since the polio.]

...If I'm honest, all of this is something I've felt for a long time, but only felt the willingness to act on recently.

Then...

[ Abel gives a small, grateful nod of his head. ]

...If you'd be amenable to it, I'd like to sit with you and hear why. In person, if possible... and I'd like to talk with you about this-- all of this.

[ because he has a feeling that whatever had driven this man to such a perspective is far more than they might have time to properly digest, considering their current circumstances. even so--

Abel would sincerely like to hear him out from start to finish. to try his best to understand. ]

Maybe over tea one of these days? I think I'd quite like that if it's alright with you.

[...Huh. Well, that's unexpected, but...]

I'd like that. Even if I don't know how possible that's going to be in the coming days.

If communion is a secondary option you're amenable to, you're welcome to find me.

I'm willing to be patient. For the time to be right.

[ there's no rush, and Abel has a feeling his hands are about to be very full with the Regent openly declaring war in no uncertain terms.

...but all the same, Abel's offering his hand for an amicable shake. ]

Perhaps when the dust settles. I'm looking forward to it.

[He's more than willing to accept any shows of even-handedness, but any handshakes outside of the metaphorical are going to be declined; he isn't willing to do anything of the sort with the Regent right there.]

Likewise.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

THE REGENT'S ADDRESS [OPEN TO ALL]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject