An Unstoppable Force
-==New Scene, Fighting Pit Barracks - Freeport - Ode’s 5th Month==-
As night descends upon the crime and opportunity rife streets of Freeport, those not equipped for the night life fall into their beds. Which is to say very few.
One of them, a brown skinned young man wearing a sandy color scarf around his neck, sits on a pile of hay and sheets in local barrack’s of the town Fighting Arena. The young man, Ode, unfurls the scarf from around his neck and takes the fabric to his nose. The scent of warm days and sweat fill his nose as his memories turn to Sol, but memories can never abate the sensation of familiarity in the pit of his stomach. Not his own familiarity but one from his current passenger. It started the second Ode placed his foot into his home city and hadn’t left since. It was the first and only time he’d gotten that feeling since he’d picked up his passenger, a corrupted divinity by the name of Capra. The two have not talked in some time and if Ode had wanted that would remain the case. However, he feels a meeting is necessary.
So once again, the young man sits on his hay bed, places his hands face up on his knees, and tries to slow down his breathing as he falls deeper and deeper into a meditative trance. He hoped this time, with a little more experience in his back pocket, he’d be ready for Capra.
The restlessness that has settled in Ode since arriving in Freeport begins to fade. Breath enters his lungs. Deep. The scent of the hay of his bed. Exhale. The heat from his lungs leaving like an forge's vent. The world melts away until the crisp seaside breeze can't be felt against his skin. He can feel his own heartbeat. It beats like a drum. Louder. The air rushing into his lungs becomes the hiss of a piston as he falls through a weightless void. The inertia gives way to a being propelled as if launched by a ballista. Tossed. Turned. This happened before. This is what it means to commune with Capra, the Zodiarc of Dedication. The scent of hay becomes that of starlight and ash. His heartbeat becomes the pounding of hoofs on a landscape of obsidian and fractured light.
As the beating drum of his heart become the Zodiarc’s rhythmic charge, Ode hangs onto the hide of Capra for dear life. “CAPRAAAAA,” Ode yells out as the unstoppable force continues its path in the language of the divine. Celestial. The word resonates within his chest like a choir of sirens and to his mortal ears the sound is comforting. It’s a concerning comfort to be reminded of his celestial heritage, the essence of the Scourge that compels him to purge the infernal corruption of Capra. It is one of his goals and this is something he’s sure Capra will understand. Continuing in Celestial, Ode continues to shout,” I’ve come to ask you some questions. They are to help me better understand you and help me choose the best way to remove the corruption in you. It also eases my mind to know any new feelings because I am concerned for your well being.” As Ode’s grip tightens the wisdom of the Sun Monks echo in his mind and remind him that “When you peer into the darkness, know that the darkness peers into you.” He can not stay long.
Thump Thump. Thump Thump. The beats overlap. Two hearts. Four arms as a quadruped charges through this void. Its enough to make Ode's skin flush in heat. The perseverance pays off as a celestial voice enters that sounds labored. "Liar," it states back in Celestial as if the words themselves grate through bone and sinew. Yet despite the accusation, there is no anger. It doesn't seem to factor in Ode's sincerity as if its skin has thickened with centuries of mortal deception. Coated in the tar of impure intention. "Ask your question," the voice says as more of a challenge than alliance as the ride becomes more turbulent.
“You’ve been restless since we arrived in Freeport. If I am not wrong, I would call it familiarity,” Ode shouts, accepting the challenge with determination,” What is causing you to have this feeling?” In rhythm to the turbulent ride, Ode’s perseverance endures along side his increasingly strong grip. If nothing else, the young Aasimar is stubborn. The stoic grimace on his face to hold on poorly hides Ode’s burning desire to tear at the centuries old layers of impure intentions that block out Capra’s original self. It is human goal fueled by celestial zeal, but Capra would not see it. His hide is took thick to pierce with such proclamations. Even still Ode shouts again,” Can it help you or will it harm you?”
"It will help me greatly," bellows out the voice against the gallops of crashing hoofs. Gale force winds whip up and begin to lacerate the inner form of Ode. "As all my brothers and sisters do," it continues on as the horizon shows itself on this bleak landscape. Like a rising sun a red light starts as a line. "He has a present for each of us, it is almost done," says the voice as the sun rises. Sharply and suddenly the red ball takes up the form of a huge, single red eye, staring at Ode through the darkness.
“It’s too much. It’s too much,” Ode thinks as the red eye stares at him through the dark. The sun he’s looked up and chased after for so long. Finally, he has its attention but it’s not a happy moment. The cutting winds tearing through his form weaken his grip. Time is almost up. He needs more. He has to buy more. He can not bend to this red giant yet. In one last ditch attempt to hold on, Ode reaches forward to pull himself up, closer to the eye through all the pain. With eyes shut and his resolve tested, Ode hollers against the deafening atmosphere as his celestial radiance wells up from his soul. In this scene of nothingness, the judging eye of Capra is juxtaposed by the small star that pushes back the dark. Ode’s eyes blaze with dedication as he roars to match Capra,” What is almost done?! Remind me of our goal!” Our goal. The urge within his mortal body to purge and join his celestial cousins bubbles up and out of Ode. He’s blinded by his own light but he remains. For now. Unyielding till the end.
It is too much. That red sun burns through until it feels as if the skin itself is burned off of Ode's body. Blood feels like it is pumping shards of glass through it. The pain isn't the problem. From the pain something is born. This familiar desire to continue on when you should have given up. Extending limits. Pushing them. That selfsame determination is blending with Capra. And when asked what to do, he takes charge. "Find the resonator. Find Aries. Destroy anything in your way. Anything that slows you down." Suddenly something terrifying happens. Ode can't feel his body, but it is moving. In the barracks it stirs. He can hear people talking to him. The sounds of bones breaking. The sticky sound of blood and the horrid squish of organs.
“Find the resonator. Find Aries. Destroy Anything in your way. Anything that slows you down.” The celestial in Ode relishes in the thought as he is reduced to his bare essence by the gaze of Capra. It’s excited for the next challenge. The human in him.... it cries. As he wrestled with his body to regain control and open his eyes to the whatever horror he’s committed, the fight he tried to ignore takes center stage. Part of him wants to purge the world. There’s too much filth in it and lives would be better with a fresh start like he had, but they’d all be suffering. Thousands of people incinerated or worse just because of their one mistake. “Damn it,” he manages to croak in his mind, not sure if he spoke it or if he left his voice in the nightmare.
The sound of is heart beating. The sound of hitting against a cage. Violence. Not out of malice. Out of apathy for the affected. The crushing of the bones beneath those hoofs. It means nothing. The burning. It means nothing. The forcing of those eyes to open. To a world that would be better paved over in ash and bones. Hands covered in blood. The bodies of three men beaten to death in the barracks before armed guards show up. Many of the. This is -the- Ode. It will be a long night with the authorities and some upset battle brethren.
The restlessness that has settled in Ode since arriving in Freeport begins to fade. Breath enters his lungs. Deep. The scent of the hay of his bed. Exhale. The heat from his lungs leaving like an forge's vent. The world melts away until the crisp seaside breeze can't be felt against his skin. He can feel his own heartbeat. It beats like a drum. Louder. The air rushing into his lungs becomes the hiss of a piston as he falls through a weightless void. The inertia gives way to a being propelled as if launched by a ballista. Tossed. Turned. This happened before. This is what it means to commune with Capra, the Zodiarc of Dedication. The scent of hay becomes that of starlight and ash. His heartbeat becomes the pounding of hoofs on a landscape of obsidian and fractured light.
As the beating drum of his heart become the Zodiarc’s rhythmic charge, Ode hangs onto the hide of Capra for dear life. “CAPRAAAAA,” Ode yells out as the unstoppable force continues its path in the language of the divine. Celestial. The word resonates within his chest like a choir of sirens and to his mortal ears the sound is comforting. It’s a concerning comfort to be reminded of his celestial heritage, the essence of the Scourge that compels him to purge the infernal corruption of Capra. It is one of his goals and this is something he’s sure Capra will understand. Continuing in Celestial, Ode continues to shout,” I’ve come to ask you some questions. They are to help me better understand you and help me choose the best way to remove the corruption in you. It also eases my mind to know any new feelings because I am concerned for your well being.” As Ode’s grip tightens the wisdom of the Sun Monks echo in his mind and remind him that “When you peer into the darkness, know that the darkness peers into you.” He can not stay long.
Thump Thump. Thump Thump. The beats overlap. Two hearts. Four arms as a quadruped charges through this void. Its enough to make Ode's skin flush in heat. The perseverance pays off as a celestial voice enters that sounds labored. "Liar," it states back in Celestial as if the words themselves grate through bone and sinew. Yet despite the accusation, there is no anger. It doesn't seem to factor in Ode's sincerity as if its skin has thickened with centuries of mortal deception. Coated in the tar of impure intention. "Ask your question," the voice says as more of a challenge than alliance as the ride becomes more turbulent.
“You’ve been restless since we arrived in Freeport. If I am not wrong, I would call it familiarity,” Ode shouts, accepting the challenge with determination,” What is causing you to have this feeling?” In rhythm to the turbulent ride, Ode’s perseverance endures along side his increasingly strong grip. If nothing else, the young Aasimar is stubborn. The stoic grimace on his face to hold on poorly hides Ode’s burning desire to tear at the centuries old layers of impure intentions that block out Capra’s original self. It is human goal fueled by celestial zeal, but Capra would not see it. His hide is took thick to pierce with such proclamations. Even still Ode shouts again,” Can it help you or will it harm you?”
"It will help me greatly," bellows out the voice against the gallops of crashing hoofs. Gale force winds whip up and begin to lacerate the inner form of Ode. "As all my brothers and sisters do," it continues on as the horizon shows itself on this bleak landscape. Like a rising sun a red light starts as a line. "He has a present for each of us, it is almost done," says the voice as the sun rises. Sharply and suddenly the red ball takes up the form of a huge, single red eye, staring at Ode through the darkness.
“It’s too much. It’s too much,” Ode thinks as the red eye stares at him through the dark. The sun he’s looked up and chased after for so long. Finally, he has its attention but it’s not a happy moment. The cutting winds tearing through his form weaken his grip. Time is almost up. He needs more. He has to buy more. He can not bend to this red giant yet. In one last ditch attempt to hold on, Ode reaches forward to pull himself up, closer to the eye through all the pain. With eyes shut and his resolve tested, Ode hollers against the deafening atmosphere as his celestial radiance wells up from his soul. In this scene of nothingness, the judging eye of Capra is juxtaposed by the small star that pushes back the dark. Ode’s eyes blaze with dedication as he roars to match Capra,” What is almost done?! Remind me of our goal!” Our goal. The urge within his mortal body to purge and join his celestial cousins bubbles up and out of Ode. He’s blinded by his own light but he remains. For now. Unyielding till the end.
It is too much. That red sun burns through until it feels as if the skin itself is burned off of Ode's body. Blood feels like it is pumping shards of glass through it. The pain isn't the problem. From the pain something is born. This familiar desire to continue on when you should have given up. Extending limits. Pushing them. That selfsame determination is blending with Capra. And when asked what to do, he takes charge. "Find the resonator. Find Aries. Destroy anything in your way. Anything that slows you down." Suddenly something terrifying happens. Ode can't feel his body, but it is moving. In the barracks it stirs. He can hear people talking to him. The sounds of bones breaking. The sticky sound of blood and the horrid squish of organs.
“Find the resonator. Find Aries. Destroy Anything in your way. Anything that slows you down.” The celestial in Ode relishes in the thought as he is reduced to his bare essence by the gaze of Capra. It’s excited for the next challenge. The human in him.... it cries. As he wrestled with his body to regain control and open his eyes to the whatever horror he’s committed, the fight he tried to ignore takes center stage. Part of him wants to purge the world. There’s too much filth in it and lives would be better with a fresh start like he had, but they’d all be suffering. Thousands of people incinerated or worse just because of their one mistake. “Damn it,” he manages to croak in his mind, not sure if he spoke it or if he left his voice in the nightmare.
The sound of is heart beating. The sound of hitting against a cage. Violence. Not out of malice. Out of apathy for the affected. The crushing of the bones beneath those hoofs. It means nothing. The burning. It means nothing. The forcing of those eyes to open. To a world that would be better paved over in ash and bones. Hands covered in blood. The bodies of three men beaten to death in the barracks before armed guards show up. Many of the. This is -the- Ode. It will be a long night with the authorities and some upset battle brethren.
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