Scene #9647: BINDING BLADE Ch55: Bramimond, Group 3

Owner	Pose
Marigold	First Roy, then Guinivere, then Sophia vanished soundlessly into the impenetrable black 'pool' your digging uncovered. Sophia, with her prophetic gift, assured you it was safe (or at least, not immediately lethal). So did a ghost with your own face and voice. Although you can't see the ground or hear the footfall, if you step into the 'pool', you can feel stone steps underfoot. They lead down. And down. And down . . . Even if you hold onto someone else, there comes a point where their hand in yours stops being real. . . . . . As you descend, light and sound return to you only slowly, as if you were emerging from a thick muffling fog. A faint purple glow in the distance resolves into the eerie light of dark-magic torches, burning forever in their wall-sconces with no fuel. And-- "Oh! Oh, I was starting to get worried..." A familiar voice calls up from the room below. Roy is sitting with his back to a wall under one of the sconces, drinking a vulnerary to heal his bruises and scrapes from the fall. He waves with it as if it were a drink, while smiling awkwardly. "It's just you? Doesn't Guinivere have the Fire Emblem?" She does, or she did. But she's nowhere to be seen down here; and neither, necessarily, are most of the people you descended with. It seems random who's ended up where (or when?). Looking around more, the "room" at the bottom of the stairs where Roy sits is really more of a cave made of shattered walls, happening to collapse against each other in such a way as to happen to preserve an open space. It's somewhere between a large living room and a small chapel; unfurnished, made of densely-symbol-engraved white-gold stone lit violet by the magical sconces. At the far end of the room is the mouth of a further corridor, and the gloomy-flickering violet light doesn't reach far into it. After a little while, the darkness speaks in familiar voices. It says "Oh! Oh, I was starting to get worried," again. And it says "Halt in the name of love and justice, villains! ... Villains?" And it says "Oh, uh, R-Roy! You're hurt! Hang on, I've got... something..."" And it says "You're not here for what I think you are, right?" And it says "I'm sure they've come as a matter of duty." And it says "Sorry about the mess. Figured I wouldn't be receiving any guests." And it says "Nothing good is down here, but that can't stop you, can it?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine is... not un-used to descending beyond the confines of the 'real world', not by any stretch, but she's used to a different sort of un- or anti-real than this. So she finds herself little better oriented than any other, on her descent into darkness. She lets out a little 'phew' when Roy resolves into view. Then, seeing his condition: "Did you fall the whole flight of stairs? Oof. Guinivere's... I don't know. She went in after you and ahead of me, so if you and I both got to the same place and she didn't, there's something happening to split us up. There was this... thing, coming out of the dark water after you fell in, I guess this place is guarded like some of the other shrines." "You're not here for what I think you are, right?" Despite her attempt to stay cool, Madeleine cringes just a little at the sound of (presumably) someone else's words in her own voice. The last time this happened was... the Silent Girl, at L Corp. The times before that... harder to remember, and less pleasant besides. She takes a moment to think before replying. "We're here for the Binding Blade. Me, I've also been wondering what your deal is, Bramimond. Like, why are you here, and not guarding your own Weapon?"
Odette Raskins	LAST TIME "At the very least, it's letting her feel useful." Odette looks down at her own bucket, and then she looks at the systems of conveyor belts, the giant machines, the giants. There's a gnawing feeling there that almost has her sighing, and then she looks back over at Roy just when he's looking at his own bucket. "Do your best." AND THEN When the pit opens up under Roy, Odette's in the middle of ferrying another bucket of water out. "Hm? Oh, did you find something? Lemme just get this-" Wait, why 'aaaaaaa'? That's not a sound he should be making. By the time she turns around, she sees herself instead of who she's expecting to see. Should she be trusting that figure? Where'd Roy go? With concern overtaking her capacity for risk assessment, she drops her bucket, grabs her case and a pickaxe, and scurries over to the pool to hop right in. NOW Luckily, Sophia's assurances mean Odette can breathe a little easier, although she does take a deep breath before letting her head sink into the pool as well. She moves along hastily, hoping to find the end of wherever those steps are leading her towards before her ability to hold her breath runs out. Double luckily, she hears Roy's voice coming from below, and that spurs her on to half-jump down those steps! "Roy! What happened? Does anything feel weird when you move? Any dizziness, nausea, or whatever?" While she's doing the expected once-over, she nods vaguely while sparing a quick glance around. "She should, yeah. Lady Guinivere, do you still g... ot it? Um." Guinevere isn't there anymore. "Crap. Er. Okay, let's try and regroup with..." She trails off while biting her lip, feeling considerably more creeped out once she gets a better look at her surroundings. "Well. If we keep moving, we'll have a better chance of running into everyone else, and not seeing... Er. Ourselves." Shivering briefly, she tries to shake off that feeling of unease unsuccessfully, then just forces a smile to try and will herself into being braver than she feels. "L-lean on me if you feel anything off with your leg, okay? Sticking close'll make it easier not to get fooled if we run into the other ourselves." "Oh, uh, R-Roy! You're hurt! Hang on, I've got... something..." ... Although that definitely sounds like what she would be worried about, so- "Maybe those lookalikes are... Mm. Do you think we can trust them? Er... Hello!" She asks, then calls out into the darkness. "What do you want? Is Roy over there?" She asks, briefly holding a finger up to her mouth towards the Roy she can see.
Angela	''Doesn't Guinvere have the Fire Emblem?'' "Last I checked." Roland says. "Man... I wasn't really expecting to get in this sort of trouble." Roland grumbles, rubbing at his neck and trying to play up some distance to the events. "This feels like I'm heading down into one of the deeper more fucked up Ruins." He pauses at Roy and throws a seemingly relaxed wave his way, "Hey Roy." Love appears shortly after, running, "Rooooy!" She chirps merrily. "Wow!! I lived in a spooky place like this, before! Eheheh! Come on! Let's go! We gotta go save your world!" She wiggles excitedly with anticipating and with quickening speed until the group finally decides to move forward, snapping a glowing kiss at Roy that pops near his body and causes it to sparkle for a bit while doing absolutely nothing of substance. She spreads her arms from side to side and runs like she's pretending to be a helicopter as she moves towards the corridor, only stopping when she hears the voices. ''Halt in the name of love and justice, villains! ... Villains?'' "Woah...! That sounds like me! Don't worry... we're not villains, we're heroes!" Love pauses, then, and looks to all her friends who have come along here because she hadn't really thought at first if everone here was a hero but ultimately she decides that yeah, everyone here is heroic enough to be considered a hero and not a villain at all. "...Yeah! Wait are you saying the Binding Blade isn't here anymore?" She quirks her head quizzically. "But we really need it!" ''Sorry about the mess. Figured I wouldn't be receiving guests.'' Roland grimaces visibly at the sound of his own voice being thrown at him. "It's fine, who hasn't slacked off on cleaning up for a while when they figured nobody'd bother coming by?" ''Oh, uh, R-Roy! You're hurt!'' "Oh can you help Roy out? That'd be great! Two Odettes...Wow..." "You aren't surprised by Two Loves?" Roland asks. "Well that isn't that weird, but two Odettes? That's so many Odettes!" ''I've also been wondering what your deal is, Bramimond.'' "Woah...! All those people are one Bramimond? Is he a ventriloquest??" Love is in awe and applauds to encourage Bramimond to keep at it. "Can you do Matilda?" She clears her throat and tries mimicking MAtilda. "Hein? I do, in fact, come from a quite-notable bloodline!" She is very impressed. ''Do you think we can trust them?'' "Mm... Who knows?" Roland says. "But we can't just ignore them either."
Desire Stars	Kamen Rider Geats lowers the Gigant Blaster at the sound of a familiar voice. "We all ran in after you," he says, stepping to the edge of the room and into Roy's field of view. "Something else is at work. If I had to guess, maybe some kind of trial." He sighs, fox-themed helmet dipping as he reaches to remove the Buckle from the transformation device around his waist. A brief flash illuminates the room, casting its details into sharp relief, and Ace is left standing there, frowning. "If the goal was to slow us down, I'd say it worked pretty tremendously. But we might as well get what we--" Nothing good is down here, but that can't stop you, can it? Ace has a certain kind of insufferable air, the confidence that comes from years of experience and the skill to prove it. Having traveled with Roy's band and the other Elites here for a while, one could get the impression those airs are exactly that; affectations to keep others at arm's length. What he is not, and has not been, thus far, is incautious. Every risk he's taken has been measured, weighed against his estimation of his enemies, his surroundings and his allies. Fighting Galle, he was neither impatient nor hesitant, acting decisively the moment he saw an opportunity, creating them for himself when he needed to. This is different. The look on his face is neither his grating smirk nor his more serious resting expression. Wariness settles into his eyes. "If you know more than just my voice, then you know the answer to that question," he says guardedly. His brow furrows. No. It can't. Even if only at a crawl, I have to move forward. "...Bern is making war on this world to settle a question about the nature of human existence. The weapons they're using to wage that war are dragons, conjured up by Ithunn. To save what good remains up there, we need what's down here."
Dysnomia	It's not that she DISTRUSTS Sophia's sight. But there it is something altogether different, to know that wandering into the dark is safe, and to feel it closing around you on all sides, carving away sensation and feeling. Caves weren't supposed to be so dark--not to her. It was unnatural, and made her skin crawl. By the time the last of her sensations had faded away, there was no choice but to keep going forward...And forward...And-- --It was a little like stepping into a hole a foot deeper than expected, leaving Dysnomia staggering through into the chamber, her head turning to drink in the the context of the room around them. "...She was with us." Dysnomia said out loud to Roy, a puzzle halfway put together in her mind even as she said it. "So that is the purpose of the darkness. To disorient us and divide us into groups." The answer made her more tense, not less, as she did the math on angles, looking for an ambush. An ambush that never came. When voices emerged from the dark, she did not relax--her head swinging sharply toward them, hand clenching and unclenching at her side. "I'm sure they've come as a matter of duty." Dysnomia narrowed her eyes at her own voice, and then, slowly... "Not entirely incorrect." This could only be Bramimond. "I suppose, then, it is yours to stop us."
Marigold	"No, I..." Roy begins to answer Maddie's question, uncertainly. "If I really fell that far, I think I would have broken something?" As it is, he's got a bruised side and scrapes on his hands and knees. Someone else has come to his side too, though, from the darkened corridor beyond. As Odette lifts him up by his left arm, someone else helps him up by his right. If she glances around Roy, Odette will lock eyes with-- 'Odette'? The copy that's emerged from the darkness wears an ancient faded robe, that might once have been violet-green or orange-blue, and lacks any of Odette's accessories. But it's her; her hair, her face, her eyes. Even that slightly-lost, softly-panicky expression. "There you go, Roy... easy now." "Um-- thanks?? He's clearly a little uncomfortable to be suddenly helped by a creature of darkness, even if a harmless one. "And, um, thank you too. You look... familiar?" 'Odette' says to Odette, searching her face. "S-sorry," the poor redheaded girl adds, looking between Madeleine and Love. "I don't know who 'Bramimond' is? I'm--" "--Madeleine Cadrasteia--" "--the Magical Girl of Love--" "--and one of the heroes who saved this world, a thousand years ago." A handful of other figures emerge from the dark mouth of the corridor leading inwards- heralded by 'Dysnomia's' glowing eyes- and part to make way. Each of them wears the same ancient robe, and one of your faces down to the mannerisms. 'Roy', smiling apologetically; 'Ace', with firm eyes and barely a trace of the usual lopsided humor; 'Roland', looking more tired and depleted than the real one... "How would it make sense to invite you in and then 'stop' you? No," says the dragon-woman with silvery hair, crossing her arms under the robe. "I'm here to give you counsel. And then you'll understand why you should go." "I'm glad you've got the right sense of gravity," 'Ace' says. He hasn't taken his eyes off his counterpart's for even a second. "But I'm afraid the Blade has never saved this world. It destroyed it. All the evils you see out there..." He tilts his head back at the hallway yawning beside him. "... flow from their headwaters, in there." "Oh, I watched all of the Weapons once," 'Madeleine' answers Madeleine, with a too-casual palm-out gesture. "The Blade just hasn't been grabbed up yet. You know how it goes, with abhorrent relics of a reality-shaking crusade. Everybody's gotta have 'em." 'Roland' doesn't seem interested in making the case more broadly. He skirts the edges of the room, slides up to the real Roland, and looks him in the eye companionably, like a fellow introvert at a party. "C'mon," he says. "What are you here for, really? Sit this one out. Have a drink." Two cheap beers materialize, from somewhere in his robe. But the path forward, into that dark passageway, remains open. Most of the Bramimonds stand like there's something further in you should still see.
Angela	Love gives a cute little wave to the other Love. Surprisingly, she doesn't have an identity crisis upon seeing more magical girls of Love but this might be because her philosophy on magical girls is 'more the merrier'. This isn't going to make her fear for her meaning of existence. ''But I'm afraid the Blade has never saved this world. It destroyed it. All the evils you see out there...'' Love quirks her head quizzically. Then she smiles again, "Well we wouldn't destroy the world, we're good!" She insists. "If it's dangerous, if it's got the power to do great harm--then it's all the more important that it be used for good! Roy and Guinivere are really good people, they wouldn't destroy the world. Everybody working with them is really nice." She hums merrily, she doesn't seem to be bothered terribly by the counsel or the challenges being put before her. No doubt some part of her just thinks this is the way of things. But Roland approaches the other Roland. The clone might look more tired and depleted than the real one, but that doesn't mean they aren't the same level of tired and depleted. "If you're giving me the chance to rest for a bit... I'm not going to argue." But if he knows himself, this could also just be a reason to keep him away from the others so they can talk privately. He trusts the mission will get done one way or another, he's not too fussed about making a show of being part of why it does get done. r"What am I here for really, huh?" Roland murmurs, glancing over to Roy. "In other words you're suggesting I'm not here because I'm here for the fate of Elibe." He sighs. "Well ... I won't say they're bad people or anything, and there's people here I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to for sure." The unspoken but is unspoken. "Oh sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I'm certain you'll never leave me." Yeah he wouldn't leave this Roland behind, his dearest companion. "...You surely know what I'm after. And you know soldiers don't pick their battlegrounds. Least not where I'm from. Is it different here?"
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"I'm here to give you counsel. And then you'll understand why you should go." "All the evils you see out there flow from their headwaters, in there." "You don't think the Blade should be used? Even for its original purpose? There's... you just weren't able to destroy the Weapons, were you? This isn't an armory," Maddie says decisively, like it's just clicked into place. "It's a prison." "You know how it goes, with abhorrent relics of a reality-shaking crusade. Everybody's gotta have 'em." Madeleine makes a 'hmph' of grim acknowledgement. Her thoughts turn at once to her own weapon, left above in the care of the others among the Lycian League. Drogrung is indeed a weapon forged to kill the unkillable, and one of too many such tools of death that circulated in Madeleine's homeworld. Passing from one hand to the next, shedding blood everywhere they go... she tries to shake the comparison to the Divine Weapons from her mind, but can't. "Everybody wants to be strong, dangerous, sure," she admits. "That- I don't think that means nobody deserves to be. There's things, people--" a tilt of the head in Roy's direction, "--worth putting weight behind." The huntress hums indecisively, then makes up her mind and walks over to Roy (who is hopefully now on his feet again, with the help of multiple Odettes), looking only a little worried by the yawning tunnel ahead. "Well, I guess we should see what they have to show us."
Dysnomia	"...I'm here to give you counsel." "I suppose that was my job, once." A pause. "There'd be no point to speaking with us, otherwise." If this was a military action, it would be best to seize the surprise the moment it was available...And...Sophia had predicted. Dysnomia takes their invitation, walking down the passageway. "No point waiting, then. Shall we go?" "You say, drawing that blade brought nothing but horror." She continues to talk to 'Dysnomia,' even as she responds to Ace's ghost. "Offer me your counsel, then. Script for me what the future would have been, had the blade not been drawn? Guess, for a moment, what you would have seen." She stares into her own eyes for a moment, before grimacing away. "How much of me is reflected in you? The old Arcadian. Do you remember his guilt?" She didn't bother elaborating. "The depth of all his self-hatred, when he realized what was being done? I did not see it. But he did. And it broke him for the rest of his long, long life." "If you mean to suggest that what he saw was not worth stopping, it will take a great deal to convince us to throw this weapon too, into the sea."
Desire Stars	All the evils you see out there... flow from their headwaters, in there. Ace briefly looks past 'himself' towards the hallway his mirror image refers to. His lips crease in thought--empathy, perhaps, for Bramimond's position. "I know what you mean by that. There are certain kinds of weapons that define the flow of history from the moment they're forged," he says. His brown eyes return to those of his mirror image. "Even one that puts power back in the hands of the disprivileged and abused does so by killing the ones who exploit them." "It's true that out there, you're more likely to be struck by lightning than to see two dragons in the same place. The man leading the ones out there thinks these weapons only set aside a judgment that humanity was due. To wield something like that--a weapon that defines an era--it changes the person who wields it, too." "I held a weapon like that in my hands, once upon a time," he says, grimacing. "It wasn't a divine relic--but it was a smith's masterwork." His brow knits in recollection. "...In a way." "It was cheap, sturdy, and dependable, so much that thousands could be passed out--and it'd kill as easily as something two or three times as expensive. It did more than kill an occupying invader--it made the very idea of occupation seem quaint and outmoded. How could a land invasion be possible when even peasants could kill armed soldiers? The man who made that weapon probably hoped it would mean the end of war--but, really, it meant only the end of that kind of war." "I read, years later, that man was horrified at all the death his weapons had caused. However much I empathize with that..." His eyes harden. "There's no such thing as a sword that paints a portrait, or a spear that repairs a wagon. A weapon is a thing of force, and it's in the wielding that ideas like 'good' and 'evil,' 'damnation' and 'salvation' arise. Who uses it, who benefits from it, and how? The weapon I wielded was a weapon of the disenfranchised and exploited--the one that defined the era before it was a weapon of indiscriminate mass destruction, coveted by the most powerful nations in the world as a way to enforce down, then strictly locked away once they realized it could be turned on each other." Ace hasn't moved from his spot. "I don't mean to be unkind, but I need to hear your answer, before I go further in." "Was it the sword that damned this world, or the people who wielded it?"
Odette Raskins	"But we can't just ignore them either." "Definitely not... M-maybe it's part of a test?" Odette replies to Roland in a low whisper, glancing between him and the darkness where she's somewhat certain the voices are coming from. "Digging our way here probably wasn't much of a test, so if there is one...?" If there is a test, though, thinking about it gets pushed to the wayside as she feels that load lightening on the other side of Roy. There's a moment where Odette sees her own confused face right in front of her before realizing that's- "... 'Bramimond, the Enigma'." Surreal as it might feel, there's some visible relief on Odette's face. "No, thank YOU for the help. A-and yes, I look faimiliar because you..." How does she even begin to address that? She keeps her hands busy, at least, as she nudges Roy's arm up a bit to give him light taps along the side, watching and listening closely for any signs of discomfort that might indicate anything worse than the bruises. "We... Look like each other?" Still unsure of how to address that, Odette's confusion only grows when more figures emerge looking and sounding just like everyone here. More confoundingly, 'Odette' doesn't seem to know who Bramimond is, and even identifies herself as herself! They're all identifying themselves as themselves. If not for the robes, this could be even more confusing. "My name's Odette, too. Er. Too, not two." Odette says, already realizing how confusing that could be as well. "Um. Surface Odette? And Bramimond is..." She looks over at 'Dysnomia', then at 'Ace', then at 'Madeleine' and 'Roland' one right after the other. None of them sound too fond of the Binding Blade, and that has Odette second-guessing herself. "... Bramimond's someone we had heard sacrificed a lot to save this world once before, and we don't want any of that going to waste. If the Blade isn't something that y'al-" Odette clears her throat, then looks over at the dark passageway. "... You all think could help us save it now, then please." "then it's all the more important that it be used for good!" "Was it the sword that damned this world, or the people who wielded it?" Nodding lightly in agreement with Love, Odette turns back to 'Odette'. "Anything you can show us so we can keep this world and it's people alive would be a huge help. Knowing what the Blade did to destroy the world before would..." She can't promise that it won't be used, and she can't promise they'll be able to use it without any destruction. Instead, she looks over at Ace as he describes a weapon even she's heard about, then back at 'Odette' once more. "It'd really help us make the right decisions to protect it."
Angela	Love isn't surprised to be agreed with but she gives Ace a strange look before reassuring herself that he's just being dramatic, obviously Elibe isn't a damned world, it's one of the nicest worlds she's been to! And they even still have wars on top of all that, that's incredible to Love. ''Even one that puts power back in the hands ... does so by killing the ones who exploit them.'' "Eheheheh..." Love bonks herself on the head lightly with her fist and sticks her tongue out lightly. ''These weapons only set aside a judgement that humanity was due.'' "You ever think that maybe that's all life is?" Roland mulls aloud. "I mean surely even that guy knows there's good people out there, he's had living proof next to him all this time," He means Zephiel. "Surely he must've thought 'If I destroy all humanity, good people would die too'. Hell, even if not that, the possibility of good people. He's ending that too." He looks down at his hands. "Every war feels like it's gonna be the end of the world as you know it if you don't fight in it. That's how they get you fighting. One like this, where someone really is gonna take everyone out if we sit on our hands--that's hardly ever real." He shrugs both shoulders. "If we're saying that the weapon of an era inherently changes who wields it, we can't really say 'ahh but we are good, we'll be different'." His shoulders slump. ''Was it the sword that damned this world, or the people who wielded it?'' "It's one and the same isn't Access to an ultimate weapon changes us, just like power changes people, is it gonna make us better or worse? How can we be sure of that? Even that guy had a noble heart once. Once a weapon's out there, it's out there. Or are we gonna throw it back down here when it's done, or throw a sacrifice into this pit until the next big cause?" "We're the status quo here. Zephiel is the avenger isn't he? We're just trying to survive the vengeance of the abused because for once it ended up being a king instead of a peasant who would've just died fruitlessly. Maybe he's lost himself.." He thinks of Red Dwarf's words to him. "Maybe he doesn't got his aim right, and he can't see the right target that just has some good people die instead of all of them, but at the end of the day--if we erase him and Idunn, the shit that started this war would just start up again, wouldn't it? The machinations of powerful people hurting themselves and the people under them? Even the machinations of not so powerful people who have just enough power."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"If we erase him and Iðunn, the shit that started this war would just start up again, wouldn't it? Madeleine bristles. "Sure, but a thousand years is a long time, ain't it? How many people lived and died in Elibe without ever having to even think about war of this scope? If all we manage here is a thousand years of peace, that's a win. We're not fighting to perfect or purify the world - that's what Zephiel thinks he's doing. Sometimes we-- we have to settle for less than we'd like." A pause to chew her lip in thought. "'What we'd like' is to have ended this already, without having to dig up every last Divine Weapon. There'll be strife and conflict as long as people are people, not because we'll have failed, but because the world is wrong. That..." "That doesn't make it not worth protecting. At the end of things, the Heroes chose mercy and life over total retribution. We saw that at Durandal's resting-place. I feel like, as long as we can do the same, we'll have done well enough."
Dysnomia	"I mean surely even that guy knows there's good people out there, he's had living proof next to him all this time," That draws Dysnomia's eye back to the Rolands, gleaming uncannily, in the dim glow of the dark-magic lights. "Hm...No. He thinks they're all the same." She looms down on them, scowling, "'Of course they obeyed me. Of course they acted kind to me. I am the King.' That is the kind of thing he would say." Dysnomia let the imitation fall away. "The people he turns against their lords and kings and masters, are proof that humanity is inherently treasonous and venomous. And the ones who stand loyally by and care for him him can't be signs of humanity's goodness, because he believes his crown makes them loyal." Dysnomia scoffs, far more able to look at--and poke at--the man's logic without the stone of his certainty distorting her perspective like a black hole. She surveys the broken masonry, "He has built a perspective, where the shallow treasons he sparks is a sign of humanity's universal shallowness." She thought of Galle, loyally putting everything into the fight, opposite another he loved. "...And where loyalty to him is proof of humanity's inherent shallowness. He's built a trap for himself, where everything is proof that all humans deserve to die."
Marigold	"Oh. It's, um, nice to meet you, Odette Two," says 'Odette One' with a little giggle. "I'm, uh, not an expert or anything, but I can try to help..." "That's right," says 'Madeleine' to Madeleine, with a casual air hiding a grim undertone. "Their making damaged creation. Their use damaged creation. Maybe we could break them, if we tried, but that might damage it even more." "This isn't even a prison. It's..." The original Bramimond, if ever there was such a person, would never have known these words. But through 'Dysnomia's' mouth, they find the right ones. "A nuclear waste dump," she finishes. 'Madeleine' nods in her direction. "Yeah. If they deserve strength, they deserve a better strength than this." The flashlight that 'Madeleine' pulls from her robe begins to illuminate the corridor beyond. The dense wall-covering engravings there are far enough from the entrance that they haven't been weathered into unreadability. They're pictograms of disaster; a blunt and simple message. The wheel of seasons, broken. Crops withering and people beseeching the dirt in despair. The sun darkening, and constellations vanishing from the sky. Dragons, unwounded, curling up to die like bugs in winter. This place is a message, and part of a system of messages. This is not a place of honor. "It, um... drew too much magic from the world, I think. The dragons were already drawing a lot. Even before that last battle, it was just too much for Elibe to handle. Maybe this is already as 'broken' as the world can get, but..." She shakes her head queasily. "Maybe it's not." It's hard to tell how much the Bramimonds really reflect about you. More than surface thoughts; less than true identity. Lingering behind the hallway procession, 'Ace' sponges up Ace's words attentively, as if he's hearing them for the first time. Near the end though, he nods knowingly as if the notion of industrialized warfare were already long-familiar. By the time it comes to that question-- did the Blade damn the world, or the hands that held it?-- he can answer unhesitatingly. "Both." "In its power to define an era, the Blade is not a weapon to liberate, and it isn't a weapon to oppress. It is a weapon of desperation. Of 'if we're dying then we'll take you with us', and of 'my will be done, no matter what'. Of course no-one's will was pure enough. In the end..." He looks down at 'Roy', like he doesn't want to say it himself, and puts a hand on the shoulder of the imitation of a younger boy. 'Roy' doesn't want to either, but looking first at Ace and then at the real Roy, manages unhappily: "Hartmut the Hero faltered. He... he couldn't do it. And he talked the rest of us out of it, too." "... Ace? What does he mean?" Roy says almost nervously. But some of you can guess. You saw a little of it in that vision, with Roland and Durandal, near two years ago. "... The Demon. He wouldn't put her to death. 'This is the first free choice any human being has made,' he said. Something like that; it's... hard to remember. ... 'I won't let our civilization be founded on the murder of a child.'" "You- ... mean Iðunn, don't you? A thousand years ago, she would have been..."
Marigold	'Ace' pats 'Roy's' shoulder, for emphasis, before turning to the flashlight-lit hallway too. Over his shoulder: "It's a beautiful idea, isn't it? Enough strength to dent the sky. And enough sentimentality to get you in the trouble you're in now. I wish peace could have lasted longer, but the debts we left to the future are finally coming due. Does that satisfy you for an answer?" 'Roland' smiles wanly at Roland, jiggling the beer enticingly like a frozen rat for a snake, and palms it off if he possibly can before opening his own on an engraving's edge. "Nope. It's the same here. Die in someone else's war, or get hanged as a deserter. But there's no sense working if the boss isn't watching," he says, his gaze sweeping over the other Bramimonds' backs. "Unless you've forgotten what you're here for," he adds, before taking a slow, long sip. "I remember the old dragon alright," 'Dysnomia' says to her twin, a little sullenly, as they walk behind 'Madeleine'. "Of course. Anything would have been worth stopping the Scouring. And so we did it the only way we could. The worst way we could." "Can you tell me that this is the only way? That there's no hope at all, without it, for stopping Zephiel and Iðunn? If the Blade damages Elibe's magic again..." Her hand passes over the engraving of a dragon curling up to die. "Arcadia will be the first to suffer." "Hm. I think they should totally do it, though," 'Love' says abruptly, and the other Bramimonds actually look at her, startled. "Fucking excuse me?" "Well it sounds like things are really bad out there and the Demon Dragon is pretty evil. I mean, she's called the Demon! And the Blade's really good at blowing up evil, or kind of anything else really. And they're heroes! That 'Love' hero seems especially great, I think we can just give the Blade to her." ". . . We're not--" "Um, we're not doing that." "We're not gonna do that, yeah." "Aww..."
Angela	''A thousand years is a long time, ain't it?'' "A thousand year cycle is still a cycle. Sure, I sure as heck wouldn't talk it down, but if you settle for a thousand year peace, you're gonna end up with a hundred year peace, you get me? I'm not speaking literally here, wouldn't it be better for there to not be that kind of cycle at all?" He rubs at his neck, "I'm not trying to be a dick here, but in a position like this, I have to be at least a little honest. Sure, I'm not about to advocate for omnicide here, but what's the point of beating Zephiel if we're already expecting he's an inevitability? If it's inevitable? There's people out there in the multiverse looking to change things in a more permanent way. Like--Well even Flamel himself, or Persephone?" He shakes his head. "Is the only purpose to life as an Elite to go around patching holes and then moving to the next one? When Zephiel's gone are you just going to move on to the next problem as the society that created Zephiel inevitably returns to itself and recreates him? This didn't just happen because he had an asshole dad, the politics--the way people even thought--that's what led to this. And we're not doing anything for that. We're just trying to survive. That's understandable, but it's not exactly noble." ''Of course they obeyed me. Of course they acted kind to me. I am the King.'' "I don't know what he said." Roland says. "But you can't just listen to the words that come out of someone's mouth. You gotta look at the situation. Or are we gonna say he was really blinded to the kind of person his own sister is? Are you saying he's just incredibly stupid? I can't believe that of someone Lilian's taking this seriously." ''A nuclear waste dump'' "Damn..." Roland seems to know the vibe of what that is too. "So it's not even about how we use it, it could just destroy the world even if we one hundred percent purely want to save it?" ''Both.'' Being agreed with by Bramimond doesn't seem to improve Roland's mood. ''I won't let our civilization be founded on the murder of a child.'' "...To be honest, I get what Idunn is doing this way less than Zephiel." Roland says. "From what little I've caught, she doesn't feel particularly vengeful. Yeah, I mean, c'mon. What kind of maniac would kill a kid? Maybe we're paying for it now, but ..." For the first part, maybe he actually feels something about the conflict outside of it being a job, or a test of the Smoke War. "...Mercy like that--if that kind of mercy is wrong," He's almost pleading. "It'd be just to burn it all down instead, wouldn't it?" ''Die in someone else's war, or get hanged as a deserter. But there's no sense working if the boss isn't watching.'' "We shouldn't underestimate Angela. She's more perceptive than she lets on." Has he forgotten? "...I don't always know my path." He admits. "It's not like I haven't heard stories, about people getting so hopped up on their own bullshit that they destroy themselves and everyone aorund them. I'm not a total moron. But if nothing changes... If it's just ... delaying the inevitable. Then it'll truly be over, it'll have meant nothing, the precious moments I've held in my heart. It'll just empty out into a void, more feathers that lived and fell to the floor, briefly mourned and then forgotten as the engine churns on."
Angela	''Can you tell me that this is the only way? That there's no hope at all, without it, for stopping Zephiel and Idunn?'' ''Hm. I think they should totally do it, though.'' "Awww, nooo! You're great!! Especially!" Love assures 'Love', humbly. "But I don't think we can really promise anything. In order to defeat Evil, we need the power to defeat Evil. Sometimes you don't need to blast someone with the pink energy beam to heal them, sometimes you can just do that with a hug or truly listening to their hearts, but without the means to destroy them utterly--even our outstretched arms will be seen as weakness." Love smiles innocently. "Being able to heal hearts takes power too, being able to heal the world takes power. Without power, their ideals will be ignored. And considering how strong Idunn and Zephiel are, they need a lot of power to be heard. Don't you see what I mean?" She looks to Roy, smiling. "If it's possible to win without their 'Major Arcana Slave attack'--they'll be able to do it, but right now ... their words can't reach them. They need the power to be able to be heard. And if that's not enough and they have to use the desperation move?" She shrugs both shoulders. "Whether it works out fine or not, the alternative is the end of all human life. If civilization can't be founded on the death of a child, it certainly can't be founded on the death of all children now and forever more! I believe in magic. Even if it's gone for a long time, it'll heal eventually. It'll come back, so long as the power to love onea nother remains."
Dysnomia	"Or are we gonna say he was really blinded to the kind of person his own sister is?" "He is blind, not stupid. Never mistake the two. One's vision can be crystal clear--but if your perspective is wrong, you can get the entirely wrong image." Dysnomia scolded. "He has said that he has NEVER met a human who deserves to live. And he believed it." "He is impressive. Intelligent. Shrewd. And at the very most, he sees his sister as a slightly higher class of vermin. Because kindness is, to him, the same as sycophancy. He feels the same for all those loyal to him. Galle, who's fought his lover in the field for him. His mentor, who died for him. It will all of it be empty words to him, as long as he has that crown, and that throne." "Arcadia will be the first to suffer." "...You know, Zephiel has it in his head that Arcadia is somehow impure or rotten." She murmured, looking up at the mural beside her copy. "If he wins, they'll be gone." She let her hand rest on it a while. Closed her eyes. "But, you're right. Of course. I can't tell you that." "...I can't make this decision," she says, suddenly. "I can't be the one who does. I'm..." Broken. Rotten. Born to kill. "This kind of arithmetic is what I was made to do. In the worst way." She sighed, straightened her back. "But if we don't, and we fail, this world will be emptied, except for hollow dragons, born for nothing except to war, like..." Me. "And this blade could be the tipping point." But Dysnomia seemed at a loss. "And enough sentimentality to get you in the trouble you're in now." "That kind of 'sentimentality...'" Dysnomia sighed. "If you cast it away, there's no reason why we shouldn't take this sword and use it. At any cost. That's the way I was...Taught." She shifted from one word to another. "You talk like it was some kind of mistake. But. I don't think you...Want to think it was." "Hartmut sounds a little like Lord Roy," Dysnomia admitted, reluctantly. "He can't help but empathize with everyone. Subordinates. Civilians. Even his enemies. Everything I've been taught says this should be a weakness. And yet." She trails off, unsure how to complete the thought. "...It sounds as though, were you to ever even consider it, you would want it in the hands of someone tormented at the thought of drawing it. It sounds as though. You still want the hand on that blade to have that sentiment." A chuckle. "...It's refreshing. For once. Maybe in the hands of people a little less desperate. A little more used to peace. A little more familiar with the way it can go wrong. Things might be different. And maybe. We won't ever have to find out." "...But I can't make the call."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"Is the only purpose to life as an Elite to go around patching holes and then moving to the next one?" "I think that's everyone, really. Not just big shots. It's always, always one thing after another. But we can't just throw up our hands and say there's nothing to be done." "Their making damaged creation. Their use damaged creation. Maybe we could break them, if we tried, but that might damage it even more." Madeleine nods in recognition. "To do the impossible, you needed impossible tools. Things that would... that could break the rules." A pause to scratch her head. "But... the weapons are diminishing. Maltet's nearly in pieces. Durandal doesn't shine like it used to, and we haven't seen Zephiel wield Eckesachs in a hot minute. Mulagir barely scratched Iðunn with a direct hit. If the world's changing, it's changing in a way that doesn't allow the Divine Weapons to work, or even to be." The engraved images of desolation chill Madeleine's blood. "The Ending Winter..." She takes a moment to think. "Can you tell me that this is the only way? That there's no hope at all, without it, for stopping Zephiel and Iðunn?" "All our other ideas are just grasping at straws. We'd have to... make a new Divine Weapon, or-- or find something in the Otherworld that could work, but who knows what that'd do to Elibe." "If the Blade damages Elibe's magic again, Arcadia will be the first to suffer." Madeleine chews her lip again. "...That's an 'if'. Right now, Arcadia's doom is a 'when'. I'd..." She blinks away something in her eyes. "I'd rather take a chance on a broken world, than settle for its certain end. But it's not my world to gamble. Roy?" She looks to the young lord as she contemplates the weight of her own word, the promise that she'll follow him through to the end of this whichever way he chooses.
Odette Raskins	"Maybe we could break them" "After the war's over, maybe! But breaking them now before it's over is just..." Odette Two fidgets uncomfortably, scrunching her face up a little, although she can't quite blame the Bramimonds for proposing that. "At best, it only damages the world more. At worst, the war drags on even longer, everything gets destroyed outright, or..." "It, um... drew too much magic from the world, I think." Trailing off as 'Madeleine' lights up the walls, Odette nods slowly at 'Dysnomia' calling it a waste dump as she looks over those engravings. It's an uncomfortable thing to see, even though it looks familiar. It's the warnings she's seen from old history books, from Earth histories putt ogether well before her time, and seeing it spelled out here of all places gives her reason to pause in trying to convince any of the Bramimonds to turn over the Blade. They could be right, after all, and she doesn't even know if she could stomach being directly responsible for it. "It's... That's definitely something that could happen. I-I can't promise it won't, but..." But what? What assurances can she even give that history won't repeat itself with the Blade in their possession? "It is a weapon of desperation." "So it depends on who's using it, but... E-even in the purest hands, the destruction it brought... Could bring is still that hhigh, no matter who uses it?" Odette grimaces lightly as she looks from 'Roy' to Roy, then back up at 'Ace'. It takes her a little while longer to shake her head. "When you put it that way, a weapon like this really might be better off staying here. But... Even if we leave this here, Bern's still bringing out more of those dragons. I can't believe that whatever they're doing to get so many out so fast isn't doing it's own share of damage to the world, and I don't know if letting this war drag out longer or ending it faster even with the Blade would be better." "Can you tell me that this is the only way?" 'Dysnomia' has Odette pausing again, looking over at the dragon engraving with a slight frown. "I-I don't doubt there's other ways to end the war, but I'm not that creative of a person. There's plenty of people stronger than me here, from Elibe, from all over the place, and we're here because we don't want a second Scouring, or worse." "Hm. I think they should totally do it, though," 'Love' gets a blank stare from Odette, and that's followed by the EMT turning her head away from both her and Love at the varied responses to that suggestion. She mouths a silent apology to the two, then clears her throat before turning to the Bramimonds once again, nodding along slowly with Dysnomia's comparison of Hartmut to Roy. "He really does... I can't promise that using the Blade won't damage Elibe's magic, but none of us want to see it getting hurt any more than it has already, Roy most of all. A-and he's got a lot of good people behind him because of that. For.. Um. For whatever it's worth, I can promise we'd all be doing our darndest to make sure he never has to use it."
Marigold	The hallway opens up again. This room is larger than even the first, but half-drowned in rubble. In the center, at the base of the avalanche, a gleaming golden hilt protrudes. A beautiful ruby gleams in it, and one chain restrains it. Concentric circles spread out from that center point. The pictograms on the floor tell the story of the Scouring, now; of humans cowering under draconic shapes, and then of picking up weapons; of eight heroes emerging from among them, and at the center-- You've never seen Iðunn's other face, but there is no-one else that that etching on the floor could be. It's a great dragon with horns and empty eyes and mismatched drool-leaking teeth; like a sick animal, like a ghoulish alien skull. "... I don't know why Iðunn's doing this, either," Roy confides, before Roland is out of earshot to agree with. "Huh? Isn't it obvious?" 'Madeleine' says, eyes widening. "No. I... I mean, maybe it's awful to say so, but... if I thought I was the last human, wouldn't it make more sense to give up than take revenge?" 'Odette', from Roy's other side, says. But she's searching the real Odette's eyes uncertainly. "Hm. Maybe it's just all she's ever known." 'Madeleine' isn't going to be too fussed about it. "Angela's not listening. Not down here. Or isn't it safe to even think it?" ... 'Roland' is still lagging behind. He grips his beer a little tighter, when the real Roland talks about 'just delaying the inevitable', and leans against the corridor's wall rather than step into the Blade's chamber. "... I don't think you really believe that," he says to his double, but he doesn't sound sure. "If it's over... it still matters that it happened. At least... as long as anyone remembers it." "I think I'd feel happy if I made something good that lasted just for ten years," Roy admits, queasy-smiling. "Never-mind a hundred, or a thousand. I'm sure some people can see further than me, and want to make something that'll last forever. But I'm not that smart, and I'm not that strong. If I can just... buy the time for someone else to really fix things. I feel like that's a good-enough use of me. You know?" "... Hartmut said that, too," says 'Ace' neutrally, leaning on the rubble by the Blade. "And now look where we are." Roy wavers. He looks between the Odettes; and then at Madeleine, and Dysnomia, delegating the choice to him, and winces in a fond-familiar way. 'Why does it have to be me?' is a question the last two years have worn out of him.
Marigold	"It will make the world bleed, whatever hand wields it," 'Ace' confirms for Odette. "Only, a drop or a bucket, I can't say." But that's a warning; not necessarily a dissuasion anymore. If you're all adamant that Zephiel can't be defeated any other way, and that Iðunn's world would be as worthless as ash, there isn't much room to call the alternatives better. "All children, now and forever..." 'Love' absorbs Love's words with hands over her chest and a little heel-bounce. The ancient faded robes look so weird on her, but she's still cute! "Yeah! Of course I get it! You're great, Love Two! Roy! Never blame yourself for the cost of vanquishing evil! Whatever it takes, it's evil's fault for needing to be vanquished in the first place! You can't just let it run over everyone!" Roy smiles hesitantly- "Thank you, um, Love and Love"- tries to step forward; winces; and motions with his head for 'Odette' and Odette to help him a little closer. "Please?" But... "Bramimond. I mean... Ace. Or Madeleine, or- any of you." "Hmm?" "Do you really wish you'd done something different? That you'd killed her as a child, instead of sparing her?" "Why are you asking us? By what's going on up there, it looks like we lost. Don't think that speaks well for our decisions." "... You made a world that's kind enough that I want to be kind too. Maybe that's all." "Don't say we didn't warn you." "... And do your best. Please. I-- don't think we can tell you, anymore, what the right decision is, but-- no, we had our chance a long time ago." 'Odette' looks around, standing right by the Blade. She looks... strained. Confused? Roy has reached out to touch its hilt, but that's not enough; one of the Bramimonds has to release the last black chain, too. "Just... I want to be proud of what we did. I guess that's all. Sorry for--" 'Odette's' hand touches the chain. There's a noise as it shatters, and then as if it were a dream, you're all back on the shore of that black pool, and it's still daytime, with the army right there. The Binding Blade doesn't look all that special in the daylight, but it's something.
Angela	Roland bites back a response to Madeleine because the longer he argues with her, the less time he'll have with his sorrow over here. He has talked with Lilian and Rita and Red Dwarf about his more honest feelings, but it's only when he is alone with himself that he feels he can be entirely honest. "...I wish she was more hateable." Roland says. "I wish that it was simple. The way things ought to be in The City, the one promise The City is supposed to keep. The promise that it's actually real simple." Roland sighs. "Instead, I might have to rely on ol' faithful This is This and That is That. And cut through the complexities just so I don't go mad." He thinks of that day. And the many other that days in his life. "She believed in the future. Even before the Pianist, I couldn't. If I can't find a way to, then she'l really be gone. And if the only hope is a return to normal, I'd rather go out cutting." He looks to his double. "...Don't worry, I won't touch any of those magic weapons. I know how drenched my hands are." Love, meanwhile, throws a v'sign across her eyes at Roy and has no emotional worries about all this whatsoever! A happy ending is assured! Hooray!