Cloister of Trials (LOCKED TO SACRIFICE PARTICIPANTS)

[genpcs]

Upon entering the Cloister of Trials, the cloister will immediately work to separate each and every one of the people who enters it from each other. Once alone, they will encounter their own personal Trial that plays upon one of the character's deepest insecurities. They will find themselves drawn to a room with that scenario in it.

For example: Character A always subconsciously feels they are unwanted in their group of friends. A suddenly finds themself walking into a room and stumbling across their friends, who were are lost in the Cloister because they went looking for the character. The characters suddenly start openly saying how much trouble that person is and basically just saying all the things that the character thinks poorly about themselves, whether their friends actually think it or not. In order to pass the trial, they would need to come to a point where they believe in their friends and are able to realize that this is not real.

Obviously, what the trial contains will depend on who your character is as a person and you as a player will be responsible for writing out what that is. In order to pass these trials, your character needs to prove that they are emotionally and psychologically strong enough to do so or they will not be provided with any of the answers they seek. It will seem very much like reality to your character right up until the moment they pass, if they pass. If they do not pass, it may still leave your character somewhat traumatized until someone else convinces them that it isn't real.

Due to the nature of the Cloister of Trials, no supernatural abilities of any kind will work in the Cloister. This includes species-based abilities that go beyond basic human function (like the ability to walk/breathe/whatever if your character has trouble doing that) whether that character is human or not. The only way to get through is to actually pass the test. If your character cannot pass their test, then they will be spit out by the Cloister at the entrance and will not be able to ask a question nor offer their sacrifice to Fayren's spirit.

All participating characters will be required to comment this post with their own 'log' post about how their trial goes, to which a moderator will reply with one of the spirits upon completion of your character's trial.

While these instructions have been OOC, please reply ICly to this post in your character's designated area for mod response. Characters who responded to Lucy's post and are part of the 7 necessary will have a thread made for their trial. If you would like to play out between characters before/after that, feel free to make your own thread. Thank you!

If your character would not be capable of passing their Trial, notify a moderator ASAP so that we can let someone else come in to try!

Comments

Levy McGarden

[genpcs]

David Haller

[genpcs]

Theodore Satchel

[genpcs]

Satsuki Kiryuin

[genpcs]

Spirit Albarn

[genpcs]

Koishi Komeji

[genpcs]

Yuna

[genpcs]

Porrim Maryam

[genpcs]

2 Corinthians 9:7

[youfool]

A cloaked figure had shown up to the group, as agreed, wearing an unseemly amount of cologne in order to throw off whatever bloodhound Natsu was talking about. He spoke little, answering whatever simple questions others had as curtly as possible. With a prayer in his heart, he went inside the cloister.

***

"Please have a seat, Ted."

Ted had stepped into a cozy office. Judging by the placards on the wall and the framed degree, apparently one of some scholastic professional. Wearing a grey cloak and obscuring his face, Ted felt out of place. It didn't help that whomever sat across from him saw through it all, somehow. "All right." He did as he was asked.

"I wasn't really expecting...all this. I thought things would be a bit more—"

"Romantic? Dramatic? No, not in this case. This is just simple procedure; what you're about to do could have adverse effects. It's important to make sure you're prepared, emotionally and mentally."

Ted shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. The man didn't seem to be shaken by his digitized voice, or anything else for that matter. And it was strange, Ted thought, how utterly forgettable the man's face was. Bald, wore glasses, but through the mask Ted couldn't find any distinguishing features. Like he could see him the next day, and not remember him. Still, Ted went along with whatever happened next, as he always did. "All right."

"Good, then let's begin." The man's eyes drifted between a notepad in his lap and his subject, amicably addressing both at turns. "How have you been enjoying your stay in Genessia?"

"Ah, well...lately, things haven't been going very well. What with the...you know, evil spirits and whatnot. I mean, that's why I'm— we're all here."

The man waved his hands. "Let's focus on you, for the moment."

Ted gulped. "Okay. Why I'm here. But I've had good times too, better than this. They outnumber the bad, as a matter of fact. It's like one of those stories, you know. Where one finds themselves in another world, of magic and adventure. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little covetous of the ones in those stories." Why did Ted feel so at ease with this spontaneous person? Just vanity, he supposed. A chance to talk about himself that he gave into too easily.

"Covetous..." The man stopped tapping his lips with the pencil butt, and made a note. "So you've been having fun, then?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"Do you play?"

"What?"

"Do you play, Mr. Satchel?"

"What, like an instrument? No, I'm more of a dancer."

"I mean recreation. Play can be very therapeutic"

Is that what this is? Am I in a shrink's office? "Oh. Um, like a game?"

"If you like."

"Um, yes, every now and again."

"Like with Dracula."

"What!" Ted shouldn't be surprised, given the preemption of his name, but the sudden appearance of the details of his personal life shocked.

"You know, the debate. It was fun, running a political race against someone so two-dimensionally wicked, wasn't it?"

"I never wanted to! Someone had to stand up to him!"

"There's no need to get defensive, Ted. Everything between us is confidential."

He took a breath. "Okay. Like I said, fun seems inadequate to describe what happened."

"It is? There you were, the underdog, heroically standing against corruption, in the flesh. Did you know you won by one vote? Just like in the books; always pulling out a victory barely from the jaws of defeat. It made your heart race, didn't it?"

"Yes...look, what is the point of this? That because something was dangerous, I was stupid to enjoy it? I'm a man, aren't I?"

"That's not what I'm saying. I'm just trying to establish a record of your recreation."

"The fate of Everglade is not a game."

"And yet, with all the pomp, it proceeded like one. As I'm sure you know, Ted, most people aren't very serious constituents. Most voted merely from whom they had met, regardless of merit. One even voted for you purely on the outlandishness of your clothes. It's doubtful whether anyone paid much attention to your debate, however entertaining it was for you."

"They did?" It was that close? "Well, thank God for that, then."

"God..." He made another note. "Let's move on. How are your relationships going? Not many do well when separated from their loved ones. Have you made many friends?"

Ted was stunned, watching that man fly past the point like that. And yet, he followed his lead. "Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I have. I've made a lot of friends."

"Acquaintances."

It was like Ted had just been slapped. "No, friends!"

He gently shook his head. "Think for a moment. Friends do things for each other. They're there when things become hard to deal with alone. Have you ever done that? Has anyone ever leaned on you for support like that?"

"Well..." His indignant tone became quiet and defensive. "No...I mean, well..." He scrambled for an example. Koishi had valued their time together, hadn't she? And Luke always seemed happy to see him.

"Koishi alternates between finding you amusing and frustrating. Luke is just polite."

He can read my thoughts!? Why on earth have we been talking all this time, then?

Sensing Ted's bewilderment, the man continued. "It's easier for my clients to verbalize when they have something to say. Anyway, you probably want me to justify those statements. For Koishi, you're not wrong. She does enjoy your time together, for the most part, but mostly in the way a child might enjoy a toy. I wouldn't say you're friends; you don't even understand her. For Luke, as I said, he's polite. Every civilized person knows what it means to entertain. He's happy to see you because it's a host's duty to be happy. That goes double for business owners. They can't just refuse service to every annoyance that walks through the door."

Ted's face sank as he listened to all this. His thoughts were not hard to read in his sad state, so the man went on.

"Of course, they'd never say this. They have a grasp on etiquette, and know better than to be honest, especially with one as emotionally volatile as yourself. I know; you're thinking 'but if we're not friends, why have so many of them helped me in my time of need'? You're very lucky, Ted. Even though these people have no reason to care for you, they still do. Whether out of their own generous natures, duty, decorum, or pleasure. Just as a lifeguard's not employed to know the people he looks out for, so your mistaken friends have cared for you all the same."

Even his voice changer could not hide Ted's despair. "You're...you're practically insulting them."

"No, I'm just trying to keep things honest between us. Truth needs to be established for the purpose. So, am I correct to say that you also play at friendship?" Ted shot him a pained expression.

"It's not so unbelievable. You've enjoyed many of its benefits, but you've never returned them. It hasn't been mutual; one-sided in fact."

For the first time, even through his disguise, Ted broke eye contact, mentally reeling.

"Let's continue. After your game with Dracula, your prize was Guardianship over Everglade. True, the first day, and the ones that followed, were trying. Perhaps, all the more so for how ill-fitting the position was. Don't be upset; it's not as if you've fooled anyone. Couldn't it honestly be said that the citizens are more capable of looking after themselves than you? Rather ironic, isn't it; the Guardian, being the one most in need of protection."

"But, but I have helped."

"In what way?"

"Well...I led a procession out of there, out of the danger, and into safe haven."

"With considerable help from others, most of whom were busying themselves cleaning up the mess a more able Guardian might have better contained. But even so, you know as well as I do that those people were never in any real danger; at worst, they might have been tackled, but sooner or later the spirits would've lost interest. One could say that you actually put them in worse trouble, making them walk all that way. Weren't some of them attacked purely to get to you?"

Ted couldn't rebuke him. He was short of breath, his features growing horrified beneath his mask.

"So it could be said you play at Guardianship too. Which brings us here, preparing to make a sacrifice. Why, then, do you feel you can do this?"

Ted took a minute to respond. "It's...it's not about what I want. I swore an oath to protect this place. That means I have to."

"It may not be about your own desires, but if you cannot do it, then the duty doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Of course duty matters! Why on earth are you trying to dissuade me, anyway? Aren't you...you know, one of them? Part of whatever it is that runs Genessia?"

The man dismissed him again with a wave of his hand. "I know this is hard, Ted, but I need to you remain calm and stay with me." He exhaled a deep sigh, as if here were trying to breathe enough calm for the both of them.

"If a sacrifice can't be made, it'd be better not to. But let's not get ahead of ourselves; whether you can really do it is what we're here to find out. Now, Ted, I'd like you to take a moment, and think. What was the most significant event in Christianity?"

Oh no. Ted took a deep breath, desperate for calm. "The...The Resurrection."

"And the other?"

"The Passion."

"The Passion of who, Ted?"

"Christ." He felt too ashamed to say it, as one unworthy.

"Now there's one you've been strangely silent about. No, no, don't misunderstand, I'm not criticizing you for not evangelizing. But you seem to talk so often to others about anything you please. Why not this, the most important thing to you? Why have you never given anyone a reason for 'the hope that is in you' ?"

Please don't say it. "Because...well, no one's ever asked."

"Can you think of another reason?" Silence. "Well, that's fine. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. My point, Ted, is...well, don't you think it's rather odd? I mean, your Savior, the one you claim to worship, has performed an act you can't begin to imitate. Yes, I know the reluctance with which you've entered in here. But you're called to be a son of god, aren't you? To be like Christ? How is it that you tremble at the thought of giving up something as small as a memory, if sacrifice is woven into the very nature of your faith?"

Ted sunk into despair.

"So, you play at religion, and friendship, and leadership. Please understand, I'm not trying to insult you. But you must face reality, and in so doing, face the decision you're about to make with a clear head. But what I'm asking is whether you can, after all, really give anything up. And I say this, because it seems to me, you don't really have anything.

Hold on, just listen. Yes, I'm well aware of the—Jungian, is it?—view through which you filter your experiences. 'The Fool in search of experience'. I don't find hiding behind such symbolism very helpful. In reality, you seem to go through life mostly taking things. You take aid from others, you've taken a leadership position even though you haven't the slightest idea what to do with it, and you've taken religion to fill everything else. And what have you given in return? Only thanks, as far as I can tell. Just words, the only thing you have in abundance.

It's good to receive, but it's better to give. But have you really done even that? The way you play at your life suggests something more superfluous. You can't properly receive anything, because it all goes into this hole that you can't quite figure out how to fill. That's why I say that you can't give up, can't sacrifice. Because you can't really receive anything to begin with."

Ted could hardly stand it. He recoiled in shock, expressing bodily that it was all too much. "That's...just psychobabble. You're just making things up!"

"Ted, you know I'm right. We both know what your 'baggage' is about."

That did it. Ted brought his hands to his face, and wept bitterly. The man passively looked on, with only the most clinical of sympathies.

Ted found it difficult to stop crying. I'm falling into despair. That's a sin. But he's right, isn't he? About everything...it doesn't matter. I have to pray. I have to at least try. In a mad burst of energy, he shot up from the couch, and looked around for a closet. Some space to conceal himself. He couldn't find any. He tore off his cloak and the mask underneath, and resolved to pray right there on the couch.

"Ted, we're not—"

"Shut up! Don't say another word, or I swear I'll beat you like a dog! Just...be silent." Ted surprised himself, both in hearing his own, unmodified voice again, or the mix of rage and grief that rang through it. He knelt down, and began.

"Father, hallowed be your name..." He trailed off. Ted admired the Lord's Prayer greatly, but believed that this one needed to be more personal. "Please forgive me, God, a sinner. I vowed to protect these people, and all I had to do was make a sacrifice, as your Son had for all of mankind. But..." His voice cracked; he sniffed. "But I can't! I can't do it. So...so I need you to. Please, work through me, as Paul said. I beg of you, fill me with the Holy Spirit, so that it might do the work I cannot. Let your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. In the name of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, amen."

Whether through the effects of prayer, or merely having time away from the barrage of personal destruction, Ted started to feel a small measure of peace. He remained there, kneeling, for a while. Finally, he wiped his eyes and stood up, regaining eye contact with the other man. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am a worthless friend, a worthless Guardian, and a worthless Christian. But why should that stop me?" He grabbed a tissue beside him, and blew.

"If what you're saying is true, then...isn't this a golden opportunity? To hear you talk, I've been little more than a silly leech all this time. But now...now I can really give. I can unequivocally do something." In spite of himself, he hiccuped a small laugh, as when joy begins to bubble up beneath grief. "It's funny, isn't it? You style yourself as some sort of mental health professional, right? No, you are still not allowed to talk. That was rhetorical. So, you say I'm just some nothing that doesn't have the capacity to receive, let alone give. Your advice, then, is to refrain? You look at the whole sorry spectacle, and conclude that the best thing for it is to keep on? You're mad. I may be a fool, but I'll be damned to be a damned fool. And damned's exactly what I would be, too, if I refused this shining, glorious chance to repent, to turn back, and reverse, if only for an hour, this flood of reception." Ted snatched up his cloak, talking hurriedly as he dressed. "Yes, I'll sacrifice, and see if I don't wear the largest smile of anyone!"

Ted stood up, triumphant. "And do you know what the best part is?" He donned his mask, restoring the voice-changing technology, and pulled over his hood. "No one will know it was me." With that, he walked out of the door.

***

The cloister disgorged Ted. Even in their current environment, when playing the Stoic was so vital to staying beneath the spirits' notice, Ted's emotions would not refrain from reappearing. He wept, tragedy and joy welling out of him. As his goal was to avoid notice, he tried to keep quiet, though the voice-changer made it sound strange. Even so, he would not cease to give thanks, for joy had overcome duty, and, if only for a moment, Ted could love giving freely. Between sobs, he breathed out his praise. "Praise god...praise god."

"Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver."

[rulerofme]

David felt naked without his abilities, but it could be worse. He could have lost complete control of them. His gaze moved over the area that he was walking in, wondering just what happened to everyone else. Though with a place called the Cloister of Trials, it should have been obvious that something strange would happen.

He pressed onward, figuring that maybe he might meet up with everyone else eventually. He kept going until he came to the entrance of the room. He paused for a brief moment before moving into it. And when he did, he was greeted with a familiar face.

"

Well look who it is. Bet you never thought you would see me again

." The Fiend, the entity that spawned within him who's true identity was still a mystery. The voice nearly caused David's stomach turn.

"

Here trying to play hero, are you? Just like your old man. Trying to do what you can for the world, acting as if you know what's best and right for everyone.

" The fiend said, voice filled with such disdain for David and amusement over his situation.

"

Winning yourself a title as arrogant as Guardian. You're such a comedian, David. Who are you kidding, other than yourself that is. You'll never be a fraction of the man that your father was. Yet, you still think you can be like him. Starting a home for children, trying to form a group to help to help fight 'evil doers' and protect the cities.

" The fiend laughed.

"

You are just trying your damnedest to be him. But here's the punch line. You will fail. Your plans, the things you're trying to accomplish? It will all blow up in your face. Your children's home will burn, the people you are getting to work with you will die. Repeatedly. And that's if it all doesn't fall apart before that happens. It's all meaningless, you're a fool for even thinking you can do something 'right' for a change. Quit while you're are still ahead and save the people around you the heartache.

"

To David, the words rung true. Mostly. The similarities, the risks, the high chances of failure. It was all so obvious. It really was kind of hilarious, but David wasn't laughing. He allowed all the words wash over him like a wave. He couldn't really say he was wrong or a liar with some of those assumptions.

"You're right." David admitted.

"I'm not my Father. It's probably doing him disservice to even think I can attempt to do something like he did." David let out a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. He reopened them and stared at the Fiend.

"But so what? He wasn't a saint. He wasn't perfect. He screwed shit up. Maybe not as much as I have or on the same scale as me, but that's not the point." He said with renewed vigor.

"I don't need to be him, because that would disappoint him. What I do, what I'm doing isn't about living up to a standard that he set. It isn't about following in his footsteps or trying to make his dream a reality. What I do, I do because it needs to be done. I want to help people, I want to make their lives easier. I want people to feel safe. I'd do it alone if I had to, but together with people you can do more." And he believed that. He'd fight together with anyone that wanted the same until the damn barriers came down if he had to.

"I'm my own person. My Father's legacy doesn't exist here. I'm carving my own. And my old man would be proud of me for that. I might fail or mess up, but I will push onward, because stopping isn't an option." He took a few steps forward.

"And if you thought my resolve to see everything through would falter from this? Then you are stupider than I remember. I'm done with you, Fiend." He said as he waved his hand dismissively. "Go away and return to being a memory or nightmare or whatever the hell you were. As for me, I have a barrier to help fix." He was comfortable and happy with who he was now and what he had to do. And with that, the Fiend vanished from sight as the trial was completed.

David's biggest failing was always his self-doubt, his lack of confidence in himself. But he has confidence. And he has just enough self-doubt to be able to rethink and approach some things in a different way, but not enough to cripple him. He was going to see this through.

[genpcs]

Though the Trial had been difficult and had moved Ted to a new understanding, it was what was necessary. None exited the Cloister without at least learning something about themselves and proving their worth. This was why Fayren's spirit kept concealed within it, a small cavern before the final exit of the Cloister that only opened up once the Trial was passed.

Fayren's spirit held dominion over memories and the self in this realm. It held the ability to extract what was called for as a sacrifice because of this. As Ted approached, one of his more fond memories would come to mind. The intent of peaceful offerings was being made, as if to say that he is safe now that he has passed. After all, depending on the question, such comforts may not be so kind. The tiny, fire-like green orb floated near the ceiling of the cavernous exit like a light to the room.

What will Ted surrender to protect this land?

[genpcs]

After passing his Trial, David would find himself wandering toward a cavern illuminated by a faint green light. The glow was not immediately apparent unless he looked up- a firey glowing orb hovered near the ceiling, providing light to those who passed their Trials. It was a difficult path to walk, but more difficult was the path of truth. If he could not resolve himself, he would not be able to handle some of the information he may be given as his reward.

But before that, the green spirit floats down before him, hovering like a firefly in the night between David and the Cloister's exit. Within only a few seconds, David would know that Fayren's spirit held dominion over memories and the self in this realm. It held the ability to extract what was called for as a sacrifice because of this. If he wishes to offer himself to help save this world, he must tell the spirit what it is he wishes to give up now.

[gullwingsgunner]

Yuna wasn't sure what exactly to expect. But with no abilities and no idea where any one else had gone, Yuna couldn't help but be a little nervous. But never the less with the thought of what she had to do in mind she started to take the steps forward. She was determined to go through with it at least.

That was until she came across someone standing there. As she started to take a step closer she realized that it was someone she knew, someone she had been looking for, for a long time. Tidus stood in front of her, hands on his waist as Yuna couldn't help but smile slightly. She was at least glad to see him and was about to say something when the other piped up. "You say you want to help the people, but when you held a position where you could, you didn't do anything. Your of no help at all. After all you couldn't even help the one person you were looking for."

This felt like a knife through the heart and that hurt a lot. Sure, she hadn't done much as Guardian at least helped in the major areas, but deep down she felt like she helped in other areas instead. But deep down she knew she had never done enough and that always plagued her. Even now things still did.

Gripping her hands lightly at the side, taking small breaths as she tried to think of the right words to say, the ones she could feel deep down in her heart. "You're right... I didn't do enough as a Guardian. They had expected a lot of me and I regret it, but I am trying to do better, I am trying to help in a way I know I can." She placed a hand lightly on her chest, her coloured eyes glancing towards the dark floor. She wasn't sure if she could even look at him right now, even if she knew she had to at some point.

"As for you...I couldn't help you, that much is true, but...It was one of those times where I realize that... There isn't a thing I could do." It was with these words that she glanced up slightly, looking at him face to face. "I guess... One should realize that although one might want to help in whatever way they can, they can't do everything." She closed her eyes at those words, she herself slowly realizing that while she has that need to want to help and feels bad when she can't, especially to those who need her the most, she realized that sometimes one can't.

"I'm sorry, but... someday I will find you and I will help you then, but it will take time. I hope the day I will find you, you will be okay with that." With those words the figure continued to say nothing as Yuna smiled once again, turning around and heading off. She actually felt a lot better after that.

[rulerofme]

So this is what the spirits were. A glowing orb? That or they had the ability to change their appearance at will. Judging from them having the ability to bring people in from their worlds, he wouldn’t doubt if that was the case. But that was something to be thought on or asked about later. The information was received, and David decided on what he wanted to give up.

“I will give up my memories of Santi Sardina.” He was a mutant child that David helped. The first that he managed to help without seemingly screwing up their lives. David influenced him, helped him go down a path where he could be happy. And David was proud of that accomplishment. It was on a small scale, but he changed the boy’s life. But he was willing to part with memories of the boy, and the memories of the things he had done for him if it meant patching the barrier.

tw: blood, violence, language, self harm

[notsoholyspirit]

This was one of those moments during which Spirit knew, instinctively, that the "solution" itself would be more difficult thank it was initially presented to be. Make a sacrifice to whatever deity may be to repair the barrier around the city? Few things in life are so simple. In his line of work, after all, Spirit rarely expected things to go so smoothly.

What he hadn't expected was the familiar figure of Lord Death upon his separation from the others who had agreed to sacrifice something to the proverbial cause. The spiky shinigami was so familiar to him, and it was painful--physically. It looked so real. He was so sure of how real the form looked, barring the understanding that the Lord Death for whom Spirit had served for his entire career was dead.

"You aren't--"

"Shinigami chop!"

A large and square-shaped hand collided with the weapon's skull, hard, and Spirit winced, cradling his head in both hands. "Sir, what--I haven't even done anything!"

The redhead would muse later how little it had taken for him to be convinced, truly, that this was reality. That his meister stood before him in the not-quite-flesh, the meister that he knew--he knew--was dead. Spirit has lived his life devoid of soul-perception, a skill familiar primarily to meisters. Though he would know instantaneously if the opportunity presented itself for him to attempt to resonate with the soul of the reaper before him, Spirit can only rely now on the same senses that non-weapon and non-meister counterparts can.

"Haven't done anything?" The normally jovial voice of Lord Death has already become dark, the tone used only in the most grave of situations, the timbre of someone who is about to chastise. To correct. To punish. "That's right, isn't it Spirit? Haven't done anything."

Instantly, the weapon cringes, shoulders dropping. Without awareness, Spirit takes a quarter step away from the form, shaking his head. His stomach sinks to his toes, dread filling the remaining hole in his chest. "What--I've done--you know I do--"

"Don't sputter, Deathscythe."

To his left, the form of a young Franken Stein, perhaps slightly morphed, perhaps slightly disfigured, his face twisted in almost psychotic curiosity and clawing with bare fingers into his own arm. Spirit recognizes the image instantly, and swallows. His mouth is suddenly dry as parchment as the young meister digs at tissue and tendon, blood everywhere--

"You couldn't stop Stein. Isn't that why you were partners, Spirit? A weapon--"

"--is prepared to die for their meister."

It's an automatic response. He doesn't even have to think. The weapon takes two slow steps to his left, and then moves quickly, almost a sprint, to grab at the young meister, to tackle the boy to the ground and pull his hand out of his arm, to subdue him, to stop him from hurting himself more. Spirit lunges forward, throwing all of his weight into the movement...and promptly finds himself stumbling forward into empty space. The image of Stein is intangible. Not only must Spirit bear witness to the event again--oh, no, evidently that isn't satisfactory. He must do so with no ability to intervene.

"Isn't this better? You did nothing, and now you don't have to even worry about making an excuse. You couldn't do anything more, even if you tried."

The tone is cheerful. Fake.

The man is still working on regaining his balance when another figure appears just out of his reach. At first all he eyes is a glint of crystal, brilliant blue and bright. He turns at the familiar sound of a weapon swinging through the air, just quickly enough to dodge the swing of a crystalline blue scythe. From his position on his back on the floor, blue eyes watch in horror as the form of his baby girl walks slowly up to him, a wide smile on her face. She swings the scythe again, giggling maniacally the entire time, and Spirit is reminded of their battle outside of Kefka's tower--this facsimile, this copy, this puppet of his baby girl, his only daughter. He'd have known, instantly, that this wasn't his little girl, even if Kid had said nothing. The smile was too fake, never neared her eyes. Her expression was hollow. Empty. The face of his puppetted daughter still haunted him night after night. Why hadn't he been there, why hadn't he been able to help her, why had he let her wander around alone, why hadn't he protected her.

He is frozen to the spot, on hands and knees, hysterics working their way thought his chest, tears running down his cheeks as he gasped for air. How quickly, without the need for restraint, the need to stay calm for Kid's sake, he dissolved to a quivering mess. The Maka puppet swings down with her scythe, the weapon colliding hard with the redhead's skull--

And nothing.

Another intangible form.

"And what of Maka? Such a promising meister, Spirit. You didn't do anything about that either, did you?" Lord Death shakes his head, comically large hands settling relaxed at his sides.

He's shaking. Everything trembles, and his chest hurts, deep and aching and down to the very marrow of his bones. Still on his hands and knees, fat tears plop into the dry ground, and Spirit struggles to articulate his words. "I...I didn't know she'd gone with Soul, and then the next thing I know K-Kid is telling me just to c-come..."

Spirit leans back, settling on his heels. His normally firm voice wavers as one arm swings across his chest protectively, the limb transforming in a flash of bright blue light and leaving a dark scythe blade in it's stead. "I had no idea. I wouldn't have let her--not alone! Not without knowing, so she'd have backup. Not my baby girl! You know that, sir! You more than anyone else knows that!" The words grow increasingly frustrated, angry, desperate, until he's almost spitting them at the spiky masked figure before him. Again, he wipes the tears from his eyes to clear his vision.

"Crying is not becoming of you, Deathscythe. You are supposed to be the Deathscythe, at that. My own personal weapon. Yet you can't protect your own daughter. Your own meister--half your size, when you've already gotten to do it once. Tell me again how you've earned that title of yours."

The weapon is gone in a flash, because the gravity of Lord Death's words are too much to bear, and the shadow of his daughter is still smiling at him cheerfully in the corner and not only had she been brutally murdered but then she'd vanished, gone home, and what was Lord Death supposed to expect him to do? And Stein, a miniature Stein, all over again, with the understanding of how everything worked out and an expectation that he should just let things run their course a second time, and one moment he is here and then next he's gone.

This was supposed to be his friend, one of his closest confidantes, and here the meister is telling him over and over of how horribly he has failed. How he has failed as a father, as a weapon, hell as everything.

The weapon has his head buried firmly in his hands, shivering through tears. "You're one to talk. Not telling your own damn son what will happen to you when he finally ascends, not preparing him, hiding the damn truth from him. Who was left to pick up the pieces of that?!" Spirit spits, the words venomous. "Poor Kid, he spent so long here struggling. Missing his father, not understanding, wondering why he didn't know--you could have just told him!"

Lord Death doesn't seem to hesitate. "Some things just have to be done, Deathscythe. I have no regrets."

The weapon's head snaps up, tears streaming down his cheeks, face flushed. How dare he. How dare he!

"Get--get the hell away from me, you damned lying faker!" Spirit is on his feet, almost crazed, blue eyes wide as he approaches the tall figure. "I--I knew just looking, I thought to myself my meister would never say such crap. Never!"

He has to tilt his head to look up at the mask of what he now understands to be the shadow of Lord Death. The reaper approaches him, and Spirit takes a several quick steps away. "Get the fuck away from me! My Lord Death regrets what he didn't tell his son. He knew, he understood like, like I think I understand or I want to understand--you let your kids g-grow, so they learn. So they can b-be their own people. You don't always like it. But...you just nonchalantly talk about not even giving a shit about telling Kid what was going to happen and you're full of it!"

Spirit shakes his head, closing his eyes, both hands against his ears as he does so. "You aren't him--you aren't him. You can't be him! This can't be real!"

The revelations trigger an immediate response. Spirit always understood innately that he had to allow Maka to make her own decisions. He didn't have to like them--but he had to permit his little girl to grow. He had to permit his strangely young again meister to fail. Spirit's responsibility as a weapon was not in preventing harm on all fronts, and it was not failure when a meister was harmed. His responsibility to his meister was more complex and simultaneously far simpler. Not every physical pain can be spared. Presence, readiness to help, compassion, caring, and room to grow--all of these are the responsibility of a weapon partner, as well. He had known this, truly, for a very long time, without acknowledgement.

The spiky reaper nodded, a hint of the jovial meister Spirit recognized present in the figure, before stepping aside. "That's more like the Deathscythe I know."

A door, previously not visible, was now clear as day. The weapon made quick work of making his exit, though he hesitated momentarily. With one final glance back at the familiar and long-gone faces, Spirit crossed through the door.

[youfool]

Ted stood in quiet reverence, trying to savor the tender memory one last time before it was tendered for good. At least he has his journal; if the memory is not obliterated, perhaps he might read in surprise at the thing he's lost?

Finally, he let go. He gave up his memories of the dance troupe, his first job in Genessia. The way he had, in many ways, found his footing. They had taught him to move lightly, a skill that had carried him through a few troubles. He never rose to a professional grade; now, he may never. And though his fellow troupe members were "fakes", whatever that meant, he still treasured the company he kept at work.

No longer. Guardianship, at least for the time being, was his job now. May as well arrange his memories so that it seemed his first, his only.

Levy McGarden

[skilledwithwords]

She was surprised when everyone else vanished from sight but she kept her mind focused on their goal. They were going to save the city and she wasn't going to let anything stop her. She approached a door feeling a soft pull from behind it's plain colored wood and then carefully entered.

She was back in Earth-land, standing in the Fairy Tail guild hall. Everyone was gathered around and looking up at Makarov as he addressed the crowd. She looked around and a few people smiled at her and waved. It was as if everything in Genessia had been a dream. She slowly walked forward, her footsteps softly echoing as Makarov continued.

"Fairy Tail is now disbanded!" With that final word he turned and walked away. Levy stopped feeling her blood run cold. This was what Lucy had told her. She looked around her at her friends and family begging for this not to be true. They wouldn't just get up and walk away! She wouldn't leave her family and friends behind.

One by one her friends and family began to leave the building. "Why won't you say something? Why won't you stop this?" Her voice was soft as she reached towards Cana. "You don't really want to go?" But the woman pulled from her grasp and walked into the streets vanishing among the crowd. Levy reached for Gajeel, "I thought this place meant something to you now!" They had been partners and yet he snarled at her and turned away.

"Jet and Droy!" She ran over to her teammates, tears beginning to fall freely down her cheeks as she pulled at her friends. "Please, we can't let him do this!"

"Give it up Levy. He's made his choice. We should head somewhere else now. Levy wanted to shout at them, they knew how much the guild meant to her and now they were telling her to give that up. "You can't turn your back on your family." They turned away even as Levy begged for them to stay.

"Mirajane, Wendy, Gray, Erza, Natsu, Max, Reedus!" One by one she called their names and each person vanished until she was standing in the guild hall with only one other person.

"Lucy!" Levy stepped up next to her best friend wrapping her arms around her shoulders. "Please don't leave, we can stay together." Lucy only shook her head looking back at Levy with a sad stare. "But you left me..." She too walked away leaving Levy alone within the guild hall.

Her fingers curled into fists as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "We are Fairy Tail." Her voice was soft as she whispered the encouraging words. "WE ARE FAIRY TAIL!" She shouted, not caring who was listening but knowing that it was reaching at least one heart. She didn't care if the guild was gone. They wouldn't have left each other because they were a family. Even with the title stripped from them there is a bond that could never break.

She faced the empty room wiping away her tears as she walked away from the familiar building. Whatever the future brought her she wasn't going to forget those four words. All of her friends were still in her heart and she wouldn't let this defeat her. She would find them again.

[gammavirginis]

Alright, alright I'm go+ing.

[ Porrim was hustled along until she found herself alone in a maze of hallways. She turned to look behind her and was unsurprised to find that the hallways seemed to go on behind her as well, the entrance she'd just stepped through mysteriously gone. She was unsure how to feel about being in the middle of a bunch of WEIRD PLOT SHIT again, considering she'd spent the last, what, eons? just chilling and wandering through the same random mesh of disconnected memories until it all ran together into a dull reddish haze. It was a little disorienting, really, like trying to exercise a muscle that has atrophied from disuse, or trying to solve a puzzle that you have solved before but can't remember the solution to.

With nothing else to do but walk, Porrim picked a direction and set off.

Porrim was so used to her environment shifting in sometimes drastic ways with no warning that it didn't immediately register to her that she was no longer in the hallways but was on the Meteor now. She saw her dancestor Kanaya across the room, talking with her human matesprite. She was momentarily at a loss about what she was doing or where she was. She vaguely remembered a Bay with Arches? But it was all running together again. Instead, she found herself smiling as she looked upon Kanaya, who was in some ways her offspring, ectobiological similarities notwithstanding, Kanaya was the fruit of all her labor, working with Aranea to reboot their null session. She'd put all her hopes of bringing their species back from extinction in that girl, which was probably not fair, but fair was not a concept that seemed to exist in Paradox Space.

Kanaya spotted Porrim and waved. Porrim smiled and waved back. She was glad Kanaya had finally gotten up the courage to talk to her. It had taken her many sweeps to reconcile her rebelliousness towards mandated social roles with her sense of nurturing responsibility; that she could help Kanaya with her own struggle was perhaps the most important moment in her life, and certainly for their species.

Their moment of quiet acknowledgement and mutual understanding was catastrophically interrupted. Porrim fell to the floor as the meteor shook and crashed, which was impossible because she was sure no one had a memory of this happening. New events didn't happen inside Dream Bubbles without outside interference!

Porrim's confusion was explained a moment later when the roof of the facility was torn open and the horrifying multi-spectrumed visage of Lord English appeared in its wake. Porrim barely had a moment to register pure terror before his maw opened and he unleashed a cascade of black energy which consumed the other half of the room; where Kanaya and Rose had been there was now only a terrifying void of cracked paradox space.

Porrim could only cower in terror as the Lord of Time blew the meteor apart. Her thoughts raced, trying to figure out what happens if the dream self of someone who is still alive is killed? Except that had pretty much never been a thing like it was hard enough trying to figure out the logistics of ghost death without trying to figure out dream self double death since you only dreamed in the furthest ring when your dream self was already dead so what happens if your dead dream-self dies??

Porrim was too busy being absolutely terrified to try to conceptualize how many stupid levels of bullshit this entire thing was! As far as she knew it was very possible that Kanaya had just been totally killed and maybe she was fine but if not, if Kanaya was now dead, then everything she had ever worked for was just destroyed and there was no longer any hope of the re-propagation of her species.

It was done.

Everything was a failure.

She was a failure.

She cowered and cried and hoped that Lord English would just hurry up and finish destroying the bubble so she wouldn't have to continue to exist as a weird pseudo-alive memory figment anymore. ]

No+.

[ She wouldn't cower. Not in front of this creature that represented literally everything she'd spent her entire life fighting against. Intellectually she knew that she stood no chance against him - but insurmountable odds were a thing that Porrim had always understood - that the conflict was larger than her, and that sometimes symbolic gestures were the most important ones.

She stood up from her hiding place and walked towards Lord English. ]

Yo+u wo+n't win!!

[ The giant green skeleton roared at her, a deafening sound that tore at her very being, but she stood firm. ]

Tyrants never win!!

[ From Lord English's mouth came a giant white flash, which filled the world around Porrim. She staggered and flinched, but finally put her hands down when she realized that she was in a different place now. A white room. There was a door.

Confused, she approached the door and opened it. ]

[genpcs]

Good. Realizing that they were still a family was very important. It would give her the strength to get through what she needed to. This was enough to pass the trial. When she finally reached the exit of the Cloister, she would find herself in a cavernous end room with a glowing green light near the ceiling.

Only it wasn't a light at all. This knowledge would be imbued upon Levy within only a few seconds: It was the resident spirit of Fayren, who held dominion over memories and the self within the walls of Genessia's worlds. It held the ability to extract what was called for as a sacrifice because of this. What does Levy choose as her offering?

[skilledwithwords]

Levy's gaze locked on the glowing green light curiously. She already knew what she was going to offer. It was a memory that was both bitter and sweet and though she didn't know it yet it would soon become very important.

It was her meeting with Gajeel, when he had first come across her and her team. They were enemies then but it was the start of something that Levy hasn't yet to know. She walked closer to the light knowing the memory that she had selected. She hoped it was enough though there was always more of herself to give.

She'd do anything to help.

[genpcs]

Almost as soon as the words were spoken, the memories started leaving him. Any minor memories would linger last, but within a few seconds, all memories of Santi Sardina in their entirety would be replaced simply with a feeling that something important was missing. Around the spirit floated a few star-like specks now that looked similar to the stars that were in the waters where the Bay had been during its location.

A sense of gratitude would be projected from the spirit to David, followed by the understanding that he will now be granted one question. What is it David would like to ask?

[genpcs]

Upon his decision to sacrifice his memories of his dance trouple, the memories started leaving Ted. Any minor memories would linger a little longer than the major ones, but within a few seconds, all related memories would be replaced simply with a feeling that something important was missing. Around the spirit floated a few star-like specks now that looked similar to the stars that were in the waters where the Bay had been during its location.

A sense of gratitude would be projected from the spirit to Ted, followed by the understanding that he will now be granted one question. What is it Ted would like to ask?

[genpcs]

When he passed through the door, Spirit would find himself in a small cavern. The final exit was at the other side of it, but the whole cavern was coated in luminous green light and within a matter of seconds, the source ofi t would attempt to grab Spirit's attention.

He had done well to make such realizations, both in understanding that it was just an illusion and coming to know what Maka's needs were. It showed he was strong enough to take the next step and to help save this world. That next step was choosing what he would choose to give up to protect it.

[notsoholyspirit]

Blue eyes scan the walls of the tight cavern, skimming over the luminescence of the small room. His stomach roiled uncomfortably, and Spirit blinked twice to settle himself, shaking his head.

"What I'm giving up?"

If light could ask questions--it can't, though Spirit is almost sure this brilliant light just has--it would be asking what Spirit is willing to sacrifice to the cause.

The weapon swallows, his mouth and throat dry. "I sacrifice my ability to transform into my weapon form."

Out loud, the words ring in his ears. Giving this up, even if it's just the actual skill of transformation and not the state of being a weapon itself, is like forfeiting a part of himself. Even still, it's the only worthy token he feels he has to offer. Anxiously, he runs his fingers through his hair. "I just hope it's enough."

[genpcs]

As Yuna's feelings rose to a better place, she would find her way to a cavern illuminated in a green glow. At the center of this glow, near the ceiling, a the spirit of Fayren hovered near the top. Yuna had done well and, as the spirit of Fayren imbued her with this knowledge, was fit to both receive answers and make the sacrifice. First, though, her sacrifice. What would Yuna be giving up?