[chandra strides forward, ignoring his rotting skin. his shadow is nothing but a blank void now, almost indistinguishable from the wave of black. in it is nothing, a coldness that threatens to swallow up all of him. it's a familiar feeling. this is what it means to achieve enlightenment; to be devoid of all worldly desires. even the wish to protect counts among those, after all. the wish to do anything at all in a world that may not even matter—
but just as he did all of those years ago, dragging himself back down so that he could once again care about the smaller things, chandra pulls himself across the stage, and away from the hollowness. he ignores uriel's shadow, not from a lack of caring but of necessity. the words sting, if he pays them any heed.
there is more emotion in his gaze now, but something about it remains frigid, determined. the bow in his hand shifts, returning to a mass of shadows before it reforms into a blade.
to live without fear of doing irreparable harm, to live without concern for the costs of one's choices and actions. harrow's voice calls out. siz isn't even here but it's fine. i do think there is a sort of bravery in that.
some struggle with their path. chandra had already made his decisions, at the dawn of the world, even as he looked at the promise of eternity.
and his own voice, hissing like poison. just as you told indra—your choices are your own, so don't even think about blaming anything else for them. just as indra told you—don't regret choosing not to discard your empathy, all those unnecessary feelings, as he did.
which is worse: a god who lacks a heart or a god who ignores his?]
Shut up. [he finally reaches uriel, stopping before her. he stares at her for a moment, sighing.] Well, this is what we both wanted, but you really asked for a lot here. This was tiring.
[but she chose wisely, because there was never any cause for concern.
he couldn't commit to being a kind and compassionate god, and neither could he commit to be an unfeeling one. a mentality so fragile that it's nothing but a thin line, looking as though it couldn't hold anything up; and yet, one forged through billions of years of duty, conflict, and decisions, and that which will never snap.
what uriel asked of him was ruthlessness. that is his gift to her, here and now.]
... Goodbye, Uriel. I'll miss our nightly hangouts, truthfully.
[his grip tightens.]
Give my regards to Zagreus.
[and with that, he plunges the sword into her chest.]
no subject
but just as he did all of those years ago, dragging himself back down so that he could once again care about the smaller things, chandra pulls himself across the stage, and away from the hollowness. he ignores uriel's shadow, not from a lack of caring but of necessity. the words sting, if he pays them any heed.
there is more emotion in his gaze now, but something about it remains frigid, determined. the bow in his hand shifts, returning to a mass of shadows before it reforms into a blade.
to live without fear of doing irreparable harm, to live without concern for the costs of one's choices and actions. harrow's voice calls out. siz isn't even here but it's fine. i do think there is a sort of bravery in that.
some struggle with their path. chandra had already made his decisions, at the dawn of the world, even as he looked at the promise of eternity.
and his own voice, hissing like poison. just as you told indra—your choices are your own, so don't even think about blaming anything else for them. just as indra told you—don't regret choosing not to discard your empathy, all those unnecessary feelings, as he did.
which is worse: a god who lacks a heart or a god who ignores his?]
Shut up. [he finally reaches uriel, stopping before her. he stares at her for a moment, sighing.] Well, this is what we both wanted, but you really asked for a lot here. This was tiring.
[but she chose wisely, because there was never any cause for concern.
he couldn't commit to being a kind and compassionate god, and neither could he commit to be an unfeeling one. a mentality so fragile that it's nothing but a thin line, looking as though it couldn't hold anything up; and yet, one forged through billions of years of duty, conflict, and decisions, and that which will never snap.
what uriel asked of him was ruthlessness. that is his gift to her, here and now.]
... Goodbye, Uriel. I'll miss our nightly hangouts, truthfully.
[his grip tightens.]
Give my regards to Zagreus.
[and with that, he plunges the sword into her chest.]