awashlogs | catch all for august!

[ How, indeed. He'll figure it out once he's got the fire going—there. The sparks catch and he pulls back. Amid this, he absentmindedly tosses a stray thought. ]

Has anyone attempted to forge their own page?

With the quill...? Not that I know of. [ She shakes her head.

Can she. Can she come closer to his fire, it's rather discomforting to be standing a ways away from him and actually having a discussion with him. ] Many people I've spoken with seem to be more wary about the book's malevolence to write in it. [ Only like her and a handful have actually bothered writing in it; the others haven't. ]

Do you trust writing in it?

[ He gives her a sideways look when she asks about the book, and he says nothing of her posture. If she intends to come closer, she's welcome to—provided that she doesn't invite someone else into the conversation. ]

I don't trust anything this world has to offer.

[ That includes the people. Having said that, he can only work with what he's been given. It doesn't mean he'll have nothing to do with the book. ]

Can nothing be done about the malevolence?

[ She shakes her head, as she has nothing to report on if someone has tried before. ] I'm not sure; although, Mythra did ask someone to write something along the lines of "The book becomes purified of its malevolence."

[ It occurs to her that Berkut might-- not be all that informed as he should. ]

If you didn't know, then... [ She decides to come closer, and if he has no objections, she will take a seat opposite opposite of him at the fire, legs tucked beneath her. The tiny sun she's generated disperses. It's significantly darker without it, and the shadows flicker across her expression. ] We can only write one line in the book. That... is the feeling that I got, when I tried. And that if we are to write a future part to the story, it has to be contributed line by line... with everyone taking part.

I've tried writing that the well was a means back to our homes. It didn't work.

[ Blunted as his affect is for the time being, he doesn't react outwardly to Mythra's name. He does, however, feel a sharp spike of something like irritation against frayed nerves. Some time doesn't change the fact that he now loathes Mythra with every fiber of his being. This leaves him restless, and he throws a bigger piece of kindling into the pile to feed the growing fire as he goes back to ignoring Pyra's physical presence. ]

But they hesitate, because of that malevolence.

[ The way he sees it, she's writing too far ahead. This Mister F ostensibly brought them here to undo the curse, yet she wrote about a way back. They should be dealing with the curse first, which is just the consequence of an idiot's attempt to buy love. He can't believe this is why they're here.

Ah. ]

The story on the forum . . . It only ended recently. Did the transformation curse occur after the entry about the forest?

[ She looks up at him briefly when he mentions that others hesitate... Wouldn’t he as well? She knows he’s wary of the macabre arts, what with being disgusted by the Faithful’s source of power. ] The story says that color faded first with the young man who took the hen. Then the forest began to creep closer and closer, and only afterwards did the residents gradually succumb to the curse themselves.

It seems the forest was enchanted and alive, even moving on its own, before we came here... and before it started taking victims.

[ She shakes her head slightly, eyes looking down at the fire. It crackles in the darkness, sending a tuft of embers into the air. ]

To think that this all began because someone was in love... And love is what the old woman in the forest claims to have been forgotten by this world. [ It doesn’t make sense to her. ]

[ Berkut huffs. The more he thinks back on it, the less the story impresses him. The love-struck idiot paid for his lapse into temptation with the very love for which he'd embarked on his quest. It's poetic, really, that that's what the world ended up forgetting.

But his thought of train has shifted. An empty book lies beside a quill, while a story with an abrupt end is writ on the forum. Moreover, the former boasts a malevolent energy that was spoken of elsewhere in the past. Is is that they've been going about things in the wrong order? ]

Is the book's malevolence tied to that of the guardians'?

Maybe, but there’s no way to truly tell.

[ She looks up from the fire to meet his gaze, unsure for a moment. He seems to be holding on to the conversation well; maybe because this is business— he needs to get home, and he doesn’t know how. He must have been thinking about it— about how to solve the mystery of this place in order to leave. ]

You might have more experience with malevolence than me, like with that mirror. [ The one that appeared in his heart. ] And what the Faithful do. [ And how he had used it, how he thought it was disgusting. ]

[ Just like that, the expression of muted calm gives way to a deep scowl. True, he has some experience with the malevolence inherent in the Faithful's practice. But to speak of it as if he were one of them, no matter how momentary, rankles. ]

That mirror was my only experience with Duma's power. [ For the most part, he ignores the Faithful. ] I know nothing about how to rate or break such a spell.

[ The one to break it was Alm, of all people. Yet another mark on Berkut's list of failings, is it? ]

Ah, yes... of course. [ Her gaze lowers. He has no... superhuman abilities. He's only human. And one of the few in Chroma, at that.

She'll change the subject.

...... ]

In... my world. There is a way to travel across worlds.

[ His expression doesn't change. Then what was all that melodrama about limited time when they were under the flowers' influence? But no. He needs to stop thinking about that before the compulsion to get up and leave makes itself known. It's much too late in the day to be making the return journey now.

Instead, he dares her to continue. ]

And? What of it?

[ Because she admires him for being human!!

Her eyes flick back to him before returning to the fire. Her hand lifts to her crystal, as it often does when she is in thought, fingers obscuring its glow. ] When I first arrived here, I thought that... I had triggered the move itself.

[ Meaning, it's her; much like her "brother" before her, she had wondered if she had somehow created a space-time event and left her Father's world. She shakes her head. ] But I didn't.

[ And the main reason she's never tried to return to her own world is because... she's selfish. That's the reason. ]

[ With her hand placed over the crystal like that, she looks guarded. Or like she's trying to hide something, which wouldn't surprise him. Snap judgments have already begun to form in his mind, but he refrains from voicing them.

Instead, he gives her the barest glance before tossing another kindling into the fire. He's sure that he knows where she's going with this, and he's going to make those words fall from her own lips. ]

[ She draws a breath... and smiles at him. ]

I'm guessing that you would have tried to return home as soon as you could.

[ It's changed, now; she wants to leave, to return home, if it means that she must return to her Father. But somehow, she can't bring herself to try to use her power on her own. She's too-- selfish. What a hypocrite. ]

You're needed there, after all.

[ He snorts at what he thinks to be obvious. Of course he would have tried. Unfortunately, he just happens to be so powerless compared to all the gods and their daughters here. All that power, wasted in the hands of the selfish.

Yes, he thinks, he is needed there. Isn't she in hers? ]

It boggles the mind that you're still here.

[ She blinks at him. ]

What do you mean...?

Have you tried at all? To leave this place.

[ He doubts it. She reeks of hesitation on all fronts, even with her words. At least that one is more forthright when speaking. ]

N-no, I---

[ "I haven't." But he's probably already guessed it. ]

There might be another way out of this world. For everyone.

And... only if there isn't. Then, maybe, I'll try.

[ What a noble goal. If only it didn't sound so much like an excuse. Suppose that this stunt of hers were to succeed; then she could throw the doors of opportunity open not just for herself, but for those left behind in Chroma—and he'll be rid of her once and for all! Yet she continues to hoard this great power inside her, only revealing its capabilities to dangle in front of him. How utterly wasteful. ]

All that talk of being useful when you won't even use the power at your disposal . . . Exactly who are you trying to fool?

[ Herself, really. She’s trying to fool herself with these excuses before even trying. Because for all of her sorrow and loneliness that’s occurred within Chroma, she hasn’t become that desperate enough to try. ]

But how helpful would that actually be? [ She defends. ]

You all would remain here. You would remain here, and with another person gone, that means even less color and the bonds that make that color will vanish.... and more likely to succumb to the curse, in which you never might return to your home at all.

[ More excuses. ]

[ Berkut turns his head away with the snap of his wrist. Enough. ]

Spare me your pretty excuses. I know what you really mean. It doesn't matter what so-called bonds you've cultivated here. The second you return to your world, you'll abandon those you promised to help.

[ Perhaps there isn't anything Berkut can do if he were to return to Valentia first. But Pyra is the child of a god; surely, she would be able to do something. More importantly, the thought of this evidently hasn't even crossed her mind.

There was a time when she made a promise to him in order to fulfill a quest. He's sure she made countless promises like it to others. With a careless choice of words, she's outed herself to be full of empty assurances. She and Tristan are so very alike. ]

....Including you. [ She says gently, her gaze lifting to his. ] So isn’t that all the more reason to stay?

[ No one remembers those bonds when they apparently return, after all, as hopeless as that sounds. If she won’t recall those ties that she has made with others here, should she not do what she can to help them?

(But what has she done to help anyone? What purpose does she have here?) ]

[ Their gazes lock. She'll help him by leaving. But there's something else . . . ]

It sounds to me as though you don't wish to go back.

[ Hesitantly: ] I suppose you could say that I am... conflicted.

You, conflicted?

[ He almost doesn't believe her. Given that there are two personalities residing in that body, is that so unusual? ]

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