awashlogs | Event Twenty-One

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Event Twenty-One

Sometimes I feel happy,
Sometimes I feel sad.
Sometimes I feel curious,
Sometimes I feel mad.
Sometimes I feel silly,
Sometimes I feel surprised.
How many feelings,
Do I have inside?

t's another regular, normal day in the Town. There's absolutely nothing to show that anything could possibly be wrong; the birds are chirping, the sky is bright, and everything is absolutely, entirely wrong.

This time, though? The problem is internal. Slowly, bit by bit, people are going to stop feeling entirely like themselves -- or maybe even stop feeling at all.

And suddenly that nice, bright day doesn't seem quite so nice and not quite so bright any longer after all.

Welcome to Awash's Twenty-First event log, everyone! Further information on this event can be found here at the OOC post. You are welcome to make your own logs and posts for this event!

If there are any questions, please ask them here. Thank you!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ dextera need not reach out to stop berkut, who stops in his march across chroma at the first hint of being addressed. whatever he was expecting from this organ-consuming commoner, what he hears wasn't it.

those are heavy sins, indeed—unimaginable, in part, in its scope for someone who's concerned himself with a single continent and not a world for all his life. the look he gives dextera, however, is cool and detached; his voice, devoid of judgment as he poses a question for the sake of clarifying this sudden revelation. ]

If you know, why are you asking me?

[ berkut is a good person to happen upon. dextera knows from their previous interactions that he, if nobody else, will chastise him and make him feel guilt or at least some kind of shame. it’s strange to feel so empty, as he felt nearly exactly a year ago. ]

I want to hear it from someone else.

[ this is his plan, whether it’s a good one or not. ]

Something is wrong with me… I’m not sorry, even though I’ve done these terrible things.

[ something is very wrong with dextera, to be sure, but the usual revulsion that accompanies the thought is lost to berkut, who gives the former a sideways glance.

who is berkut to condemn killing? he's run through his fair share of adversaries with a lance. his hands, no matter his intention, aren't clean. since he was asked, though, he sees no harm in acquiescing to the request. ]

Very well.

I know not your reasons for causing those deaths—nor how you could have killed the world itself—but fratricide is a grave offense. Based on your confession, your actions are certainly worthy of condemnation.

[ his lack of knowledge makes it difficult to emotionally invest himself in the verdict. he stops there to gauge dextera's response. ]

Well?

[ it’s…

not quite there. berkut seems to analyze the situation and respond with as little contempt as possible, which is something dextera would normally appreciate. like this, however, it leaves him feeling just as empty as before, with an additional dose of uncertainty and confusion, as well.

his brow furrows. ]

…you…

[ no, the words are fine. it’s the emotion behind them that doesn’t carry the message through. ]

It’s not enough. You should be more unkind. If what you say is true…

You want me to condemn you.

[ under ordinary circumstances, this would be a simple task. dextera's everyday behavior leaves much to be desired for berkut. (even then, those complaints he'd had in the past feel so clinical now in his mind.) but this? this is too abstract, too distant for him to fully grasp. ]

It is true. But if it isn't enough now, then it won't be later, no matter how unkind I become.

I do, but…

[ berkut speaks honestly, but his strange almost-patience makes dextera wonder if he’s suffering a lack of something—for some definition of suffering—that dextera is as well. not guilt or pain, maybe, but… ]

You’re unwell too.

[ he purses his lips. by now, he's realized that something about himself is off, but to have it so plainly said—and to be told that he's unwell—makes him wonder just how badly he's been afflicted. ]

The proper term would be cursed, would it not?

Is it a curse? Are you suffering?

[ dextera doesn’t remember what it’s like to hurt. he’s following this shallow understanding of chastisement in the hopes that something will make him feel bad, feel burdened, but nothing is coming to him. ]

Or do you feel… released?

[ the look he gives dextera is one of mild disbelief, expressed through the arch of an eyebrow. ]

Do you think this liberating? Look at you. Released of your guilt, you now seek to understand it within others. Do you feel released?

[ unlike their previous encounters, his words have lost their aggressive edge. the terseness is still there; his confidence in what he says, clear as day. ]

Aha…

[ an unusual laugh, foreign in his lungs, bubbles up. this is what he wanted. someone to be cruel to him. even if berkut’s temper is missing, he’s all the more like the archangel for it.

dextera squeezes his own wrist. ]

I don’t. But I’m not suffering, either. Nothing hurts, and that’s the kind of power that destroyed the world.

[ for berkut, he believes that he's merely pointing out something obvious. the shift in his attitude toward others hasn't done anything for his choice of words.

he gives dextera an appraising look. ]

How exactly did you manage such a feat?

The last time you saw me, I wasn’t yet whole. I think that void in my heart explains some of it.

[ but now… ]

When you give power to someone as selfish as I am, the world suffers for it. Right?

[ his eyes flit to the side, then back. he doesn't care for the reminder of the void and what happened in that inky darkness. ]

You lack confidence, though you managed to show some spine in the past. Selfish is not the word I would use.

…

[ it’s almost a compliment, in dextera’s ears. hearing, merely, that he lacks confidence is in fact something like glowing praise from berkut, but he’s also yet to hear the word that berkut would use. ]

You’re being kind to me. Is it bad… if I’m not confident in the things I do?

[ kind?

he pauses. yes, he supposes he is. why not? ]

Of course. When you doubt yourself, you fail to seize every opportunity that comes your way. In doing so, you squander your potential.

I’ve met my potential.

[ dextera shakes his head. ]

I am a god. I wasn’t the last time we talked, but I am now. There’s nowhere to go from there, but still I don’t know if I’ve done right. A god who’s confident in being wrong is just…

[ a demon, isn’t it? ]

[ he frowns. not because he's thinking along the same line as dextera, but because he cannot fathom why dextera would even think that way.

a god, he says. how is that even possible? ]

In that case, should you not be hard at work to seek an approach that you feel is more right?

Edited 2019-04-24 05:32 (UTC)

That’s… the problem.

[ dextera never thought he would end up using berkut as a kind of therapist, but here they are. oddly, the longer they talk, certainly the closer dextera feels to him—it’s not enough to restore pain in its entirety to his heart, but something does needle at his heart. ]

Like this… stuck here… I can’t tell.

[ dextera needs to find a better therapist.

if nothing else, this one is self-aware enough that berkut doesn't need to dwell on the very basics of things like initiative. ]

What do you mean?

I have a duty to my world that’s different from this place. It’s impossibly different… but I’ve been here for a long time.

[ he went home for a bit, but even that feels like a flash in the pan compared to returning here and remembering it all. ]

It’s easier to just run away. That’s how I felt… it’s how I still feel.

[ for the first time since learning of dextera's godhood, berkut isn't surprised. it's nothing against dextera, but this is what happens when someone who's ill-qualified from birth breaks rank to cheat the natural hierarchy.

somehow, the thought of it doesn't send him into a rage. ]

How can you not? You were not born into your role. It is only natural that you should feel this way.

…

[ a month or two ago, dextera would have readily agreed. this is never who he was meant to be. it was never who he wanted to be, but the most unfortunate part of berkut’s observation is that he was. this role was practically made for him, strong as he is, flawed as he is, and he’s been groomed since birth to take on the mantle of god’s messenger.

but he doesn’t want to correct berkut. he doesn’t want to accept that. ]

But you were born into yours. And you’re happy with it?

Happy?

[ with the arch of an eyebrow, he echoes the word. happy is so . . . juvenile, unguarded. he can't afford the latter. ]

It pleases me to fulfill my duty. There is no greater honor than this.

[ dextera can understand the way he sidesteps the description. it’s hard to claim happiness, especially when berkut seems so dour as a rule of existence—even if now he’s not quite so aggressive, for whatever the town has taken from him. ]

I envy that.

[ he says it, and then he’s belatedly surprised to find that he means it. he touches his chest. ]

I envy that.

[ many rigelians envy him—this much is not new. still, he finds dextera's response to be rather curious. ]

Yes? Do you mean to say that you were unable to feel envy as well?

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