"Ahaha. I didn't know hell could be relocated; as if it were a chain that could change venues." The more he heard about Gensokyo, the harder it was to take it seriously; something he had trouble enough with as it is.
Change? Yes, certainly, death changes its trespassers. Didn't it denude them? Izanagi was so ugly that Izanami rejected her, and in that rejection, proved herself just as nasty inside as out. What mother worth her salt would ever even think to slay her own children? Death showed her for what she was. It seemed to have no effect on Orpheus and Eurydice, who were decent, as far as pagans go, and knew each other at once.
After all, Death is in the middle of the Trumps, not the end. He'd have to be dealt with eventually. Would that deal involve denial of self? Certainly, certainly. Indeed, Ted wouldn't much care for a self that wouldn't give itself up for love or rescue. And the rescued? Might death have changed them into someone or something wholly estranged from who he knew?
He laughed and accepted the terms again. It was ridiculous, and exactly his intent. He would save them, even if, so changed, they did not know each other. He desired so strongly that even ugliness, theirs or his, could not deter. Then he thought of Satori, and how her experience with much inner ugliness might have steeled her for the same.
"Haven't the luxury? Huh. My experience has been all the other way. Loss of loved ones has afforded all the time in the world to think of them and where and how they are. Thoughts, heh, you're no doubt seeing acutely."
A pang of doubt stirred when she mentioned her possible entanglement. That was his greatest fear not a few months ago; hurting others, chiefly by involving them with his quests. When those quests proved to be vain and false, it only stung worse. For a while that fear controlled him and made him reclusive, so shy was he of even the slightest chance of inadvertently causing them pain for nothing. And yet they always agreed. Why did they agree? Ted's persuasion? Or their charity?
The pang passed. On his ill-fated ride aboard a "Ghost Train", that guilt had literally consumed and conflagrated him, and then he'd learned that it did no one any good. That wasn't the way. If he wishes to stop vain pains, the best he could do is remove the vanity, and pursue good quests, not the pains, which would come whatever they did.
"...May this be a good quest. We've arrived." His boots splashed the shallow waters of The Bay, which held the archway to Windgate Creek. The location made it significant to him. He'd long regarded Genessia City to be superior to the rest for its refusal to entertain subarchways. It demanded staying exactly itself, with no blemishes from those who'd impose their unrealities. Why, then, was Windgate seated in its center?
He escorted her through the glistening caverns and into the wild west.
no subject
Change? Yes, certainly, death changes its trespassers. Didn't it denude them? Izanagi was so ugly that Izanami rejected her, and in that rejection, proved herself just as nasty inside as out. What mother worth her salt would ever even think to slay her own children? Death showed her for what she was. It seemed to have no effect on Orpheus and Eurydice, who were decent, as far as pagans go, and knew each other at once.
After all, Death is in the middle of the Trumps, not the end. He'd have to be dealt with eventually. Would that deal involve denial of self? Certainly, certainly. Indeed, Ted wouldn't much care for a self that wouldn't give itself up for love or rescue. And the rescued? Might death have changed them into someone or something wholly estranged from who he knew?
He laughed and accepted the terms again. It was ridiculous, and exactly his intent. He would save them, even if, so changed, they did not know each other. He desired so strongly that even ugliness, theirs or his, could not deter. Then he thought of Satori, and how her experience with much inner ugliness might have steeled her for the same.
"Haven't the luxury? Huh. My experience has been all the other way. Loss of loved ones has afforded all the time in the world to think of them and where and how they are. Thoughts, heh, you're no doubt seeing acutely."
A pang of doubt stirred when she mentioned her possible entanglement. That was his greatest fear not a few months ago; hurting others, chiefly by involving them with his quests. When those quests proved to be vain and false, it only stung worse. For a while that fear controlled him and made him reclusive, so shy was he of even the slightest chance of inadvertently causing them pain for nothing. And yet they always agreed. Why did they agree? Ted's persuasion? Or their charity?
The pang passed. On his ill-fated ride aboard a "Ghost Train", that guilt had literally consumed and conflagrated him, and then he'd learned that it did no one any good. That wasn't the way. If he wishes to stop vain pains, the best he could do is remove the vanity, and pursue good quests, not the pains, which would come whatever they did.
"...May this be a good quest. We've arrived." His boots splashed the shallow waters of The Bay, which held the archway to Windgate Creek. The location made it significant to him. He'd long regarded Genessia City to be superior to the rest for its refusal to entertain subarchways. It demanded staying exactly itself, with no blemishes from those who'd impose their unrealities. Why, then, was Windgate seated in its center?
He escorted her through the glistening caverns and into the wild west.