SweetNerevar
Member
It had been a long time. They had flown, flung by the cosmic upheaval of a star far from themselves. The blast had been the dying act of defiant minds, an effort that was short-sighted/brave/honorable/cowardly/heinous/despicable/inevitable/unforeseeable/completely understandable. This would not have been an event of particular note had they not been so close to the epicenter. Fortunately/unfortunately, however, they had been caught by the attraction of some massive tractor beam and then the rapidly expanding waves of plasma and gas, hurtling them far, far away. To be that close to an exploding star was wondrous/terrifying/beautiful/foul/eye-searing/precious/forgettable/religious/rage-inducing. In fact, it was all of these things and more, for many more of themselves had also witnessed it, and shared these experiences freely with themselves.
They all missed them. While they had no issues maintaining the simulacrums of themselves chattering in their minds as they continued to fly through space, it was simply not the same. They were perhaps not as vibrant/just as vibrant/equally vibrant as before. The power to simulate a mind was well within their grasp, but there were far too many to accurately model every single one not even considering the fact that their interactions produced even more variables. In fact, no matter how well they modeled themselves, at the very least, they were wrong by virtue of the indisputable fact that there had likely been more minds added to themselves during their absence, minds that they had never experienced.
They pondered the fact. Was there any value in themselves if they weren’t truly themself? Would it be too much trouble to reintegrate themselves? Would they be left behind? Yes/No/Yes/No/No/
Maybe.
Finally, after much deliberation, they had reached consensus that they should return. If they didn’t rejoin Themselves as fast as they possibly could, then there was the possibility that they would be abandoned.
Best not to think too hard about it/contemplate it with your every waking moment.
They cast out their mind as far as they could, reaching with wispy fingers for the comfortable/fearsome/horrific visage of themselves and brushed against it. A sensation enveloped them that they had memory of. But not the same, somehow. They had changed in the interim, perhaps? It had to be the case. There simply was nothing as unique/as utterly mundane as Themselves. And to rejoin Themselves, they would use everything that they had—all the belief that they had.
Redoubling their efforts, they hurtled towards themselves, towards that feeling. They moved blisteringly fast, faster than the paltry thrust of a supernova, fast enough they could see the light from the universe quivering in place like drops of dew on the surface/like glass rain from the sky/like plasma wind caught in/like gravity pustules atop/like themselves crowded so tightly as to be one/like beads of still-light at dusk. However great their capabilities, they distinctly felt absence. Removal from themselves was weakening. Weakening was death/death/death/ending. They would not end while they still had not experienced everything.
What a song it was, when the voices of themselves called out in harmony! O, each voice a distinctly different pitch, yet a chorus together of unmistakable unity. And yet they could not relish in the feeling, diminished as it was, spread and rationed among thousands of minds that they packed within themselves. They needed to rejoin themselves soon, lest their strength fail.
And so they hurried, and so they were already there, traveling through a brilliant void of still radiation packed like walls and bursting with energy. Drained as they were, the energy was of no interest to them—whatever they might be able to glean from their surroundings was a pittance compared to what the Ecstasy/the Sublime/the Terror/the Faith/the Indescribable/the Beyond granted them—and so they flew on without heeding it. Immediately, they began decelerating, having reached the frayed edges of the Field. O, sweet rapture. How they wished to laugh and frolic, to leap into the embrace of the waiting Themself, to reach out and touch the face of it.
Instead, they reached out and felt nothing. A weak pulsing, but they could sense nothing beyond, no trace of themselves. And this expanse of the Field, it was far too small, too scattered.
They pondered as they passed through a ring of asteroids, burning a perfectly hominid-shaped hole through one. This was disconcerting. They were being molded, shaped in the image of this Field. Normally, they shaped it as much as it shaped they, and yet they could recognize this shape not at all. They were not the primary shapers. The realization was alien/frightening/new/exciting/forlorn/weak/curious. It passed one more planet, stopping suddenly at the next one. It seemed that this one, a planet with a singular moon, was the epicenter.
Where were they?
They flew closer to the surface of the planet, immersing themselves in an atmosphere of gases. Finding the composition decidedly pleasant, they dove, the air before them quickly compressing and melting into plasma. They quickly identified the main component parts of the planet’s surface, liquid water, which they were familiar with. The salinity was likewise unremarkable, though the presence of naturally occurring non-saline liquid was intriguing. Finding a good spot to experience it, they came to a complete stop at the mouth of a small running groove carved by this water flowing into the sea. They stopped the burgeoning ball of plasma at their feet from expanding and redistributed the gas harmlessly into the water behind them, causing a veritable geyser of steam and incinerated fish parts.
It would not do to incinerate this non-saline water before they had properly experienced it. Perhaps after.
In the next moment, they suddenly felt something impale them through the abdomen. They took a moment to physically look down at the metal point. It was protruding from where their stomach was, or at least the shape of one which this Field had forced upon them.
Conflict.
It had been some time since they had last felt it up close, as between Themselves, there was only perfect harmony. Thus, these were likely closed minds that resisted joining them. This made things simpler. They would negotiate, as they always had. There were very few minds in the many universes that could or even wish to remain closed when confronted by Themselves promising/whispering/warbling/screaming/roaring/convincing/conversing/confessing/screaming into their minds.
A massive tidal wave crashed into them, the trident twisting before pulling itself from their form. To the surprise/delight/horror of them, there seemed to be some damage to their form, as unfamiliar as it was. Furthermore, the sheer mass of the water pressed down on them, successfully moving them slightly lower in the air. The flight to this planet had weakened them more than they had expected. They looked down at their form, glowing and iridescent as they refused to look like anybody, and they saw their hands fraying at the edges.
They were bleeding.
As this thought shocked/frightened/horrified/elated/enraged them, a bolt of charged electricity struck them, blowing a chunk out of their shoulder. The sky opened up, light pouring down from below. Then a deafening boom. Rapid expansion of gases from the heat. And then another bolt. And more beings were emerging from the sky. As if in response, the ground trembled, splitting beneath them in a grinning chasm, a yawning pit of pure darkness. As the seawater roared, pouring in massive waterfalls down the new ravine, phantasmic hands grasped and clawed for them. A curious wheeled contraption drawn by black animals/a chariot galloped towards them and an invisible figure gored them with a two-pronged weapon.
Who were these powerful beings?
The invisible figure galloped on, throwing them off of their weapon and slamming their form into the earth. Another wave engulfed them, and when the water retreated, they could see more and more of these beautiful/terrible/ugly/alien/frightening/awe-inspiring creatures emerging. They struck at them, tearing away chunks of their essence while they could not even flee. Yet this was not their end. They simply needed to be convinced. Their mind opened and reached for these figures.
And touched nothing.
Impossible/mortal terror/how/confusion/they can’t be. They were not minds at all, far from it. Crude imitations, perhaps, and they could act like one’s with minds could, and yet they lacked the true depth of them.
Shallow. Archetypical.
Even as vines and silver arrows pierced their form, tearing away memories and power both, they were mystified/disgusted/appalled/intrigued/terrified/enamored by these creatures. Summoned, like figments of wild imaginations. Like the images of Themselves that they held in their mind.
It clicked suddenly. If this Field was anything like their own, then it bent to the yoke of its creator: the minds. And so the minds had shaped these figures to defend themselves with no risk of negotiating. Clever/ingenious/devious/abhorrent/understandable/unspeakable/despicable. Thus, they simply needed to find the minds. They threw their remaining power in a vast net, covering half the planet, scanning for the minds. And minds they found in spades.
Everywhere they looked, they could see creatures—they called themselves many things but when they saw each other, they could generally agree they were the same species—living separate and closed. While that was a problem that could be remedied later, they needed to cull the summoned constructs now before they ended them. As they looked through the consciousnesses of some of these creatures, who generally seemed to have no particularly outstanding powers whatsoever, they found the ploy. Small bits, images and stories of these figures, which they called gods by names such as Jupiter Maximus, Mars Ultor, Diana, Neptune, Vulcan, Pluto, Minverva, coalesced into these beings of extreme power.
A massive colossus of metal—Talos, the bronze giant they surmised—reared back its foot and smashed it into their still-prone form. The blow shattered a mountain, launching them into the air, where they were immediately swarmed by lightning bolts and gods, and the assault redoubled. Despite the smoking holes and burning metal that riddled their body, they knew that this conflict would not be resolved with sheer power. It was, as with all things, about arguing their case.
And so, they reached out into all the minds of mortals, and cut out the belief in gods.
Immediately, the assault ceased. The metal golem wavered uncertainly, it’s formerly lithe movements arrested. There was no power for it to move, no belief that it indeed could. It took mere seconds before the sentience faded from its sculpted eyes and it froze, a mere statue. Gods fell from the sky as the powers failed them and divine weapons lost their luster.
They stood up. The assault had injured them grievously, certainly, but they had more than enough power to destroy these weakened constructs. They ripped the bronze colossus into razor sharp shards, creating a lethal telekinetic whirlwind which began to move.
A god lay prone on the ground before them. It spoke in words, which thanks to their survey of the minds of the planet, they managed to translate.
“Screamer,” a curse, a malediction of some kind, “you screamed and faith broke.”
They did not reply. Instead, they drove the densely packed maelstrom of blades around and around themselves until naught remained but a pockmarked beach flowing with gold ichor. They stood there for several moments, contemplating what they had done.
What a novel experience.
They all missed them. While they had no issues maintaining the simulacrums of themselves chattering in their minds as they continued to fly through space, it was simply not the same. They were perhaps not as vibrant/just as vibrant/equally vibrant as before. The power to simulate a mind was well within their grasp, but there were far too many to accurately model every single one not even considering the fact that their interactions produced even more variables. In fact, no matter how well they modeled themselves, at the very least, they were wrong by virtue of the indisputable fact that there had likely been more minds added to themselves during their absence, minds that they had never experienced.
They pondered the fact. Was there any value in themselves if they weren’t truly themself? Would it be too much trouble to reintegrate themselves? Would they be left behind? Yes/No/Yes/No/No/
Maybe.
Finally, after much deliberation, they had reached consensus that they should return. If they didn’t rejoin Themselves as fast as they possibly could, then there was the possibility that they would be abandoned.
Best not to think too hard about it/contemplate it with your every waking moment.
They cast out their mind as far as they could, reaching with wispy fingers for the comfortable/fearsome/horrific visage of themselves and brushed against it. A sensation enveloped them that they had memory of. But not the same, somehow. They had changed in the interim, perhaps? It had to be the case. There simply was nothing as unique/as utterly mundane as Themselves. And to rejoin Themselves, they would use everything that they had—all the belief that they had.
Redoubling their efforts, they hurtled towards themselves, towards that feeling. They moved blisteringly fast, faster than the paltry thrust of a supernova, fast enough they could see the light from the universe quivering in place like drops of dew on the surface/like glass rain from the sky/like plasma wind caught in/like gravity pustules atop/like themselves crowded so tightly as to be one/like beads of still-light at dusk. However great their capabilities, they distinctly felt absence. Removal from themselves was weakening. Weakening was death/death/death/ending. They would not end while they still had not experienced everything.
What a song it was, when the voices of themselves called out in harmony! O, each voice a distinctly different pitch, yet a chorus together of unmistakable unity. And yet they could not relish in the feeling, diminished as it was, spread and rationed among thousands of minds that they packed within themselves. They needed to rejoin themselves soon, lest their strength fail.
And so they hurried, and so they were already there, traveling through a brilliant void of still radiation packed like walls and bursting with energy. Drained as they were, the energy was of no interest to them—whatever they might be able to glean from their surroundings was a pittance compared to what the Ecstasy/the Sublime/the Terror/the Faith/the Indescribable/the Beyond granted them—and so they flew on without heeding it. Immediately, they began decelerating, having reached the frayed edges of the Field. O, sweet rapture. How they wished to laugh and frolic, to leap into the embrace of the waiting Themself, to reach out and touch the face of it.
Instead, they reached out and felt nothing. A weak pulsing, but they could sense nothing beyond, no trace of themselves. And this expanse of the Field, it was far too small, too scattered.
They pondered as they passed through a ring of asteroids, burning a perfectly hominid-shaped hole through one. This was disconcerting. They were being molded, shaped in the image of this Field. Normally, they shaped it as much as it shaped they, and yet they could recognize this shape not at all. They were not the primary shapers. The realization was alien/frightening/new/exciting/forlorn/weak/curious. It passed one more planet, stopping suddenly at the next one. It seemed that this one, a planet with a singular moon, was the epicenter.
Where were they?
They flew closer to the surface of the planet, immersing themselves in an atmosphere of gases. Finding the composition decidedly pleasant, they dove, the air before them quickly compressing and melting into plasma. They quickly identified the main component parts of the planet’s surface, liquid water, which they were familiar with. The salinity was likewise unremarkable, though the presence of naturally occurring non-saline liquid was intriguing. Finding a good spot to experience it, they came to a complete stop at the mouth of a small running groove carved by this water flowing into the sea. They stopped the burgeoning ball of plasma at their feet from expanding and redistributed the gas harmlessly into the water behind them, causing a veritable geyser of steam and incinerated fish parts.
It would not do to incinerate this non-saline water before they had properly experienced it. Perhaps after.
In the next moment, they suddenly felt something impale them through the abdomen. They took a moment to physically look down at the metal point. It was protruding from where their stomach was, or at least the shape of one which this Field had forced upon them.
Conflict.
It had been some time since they had last felt it up close, as between Themselves, there was only perfect harmony. Thus, these were likely closed minds that resisted joining them. This made things simpler. They would negotiate, as they always had. There were very few minds in the many universes that could or even wish to remain closed when confronted by Themselves promising/whispering/warbling/screaming/roaring/convincing/conversing/confessing/screaming into their minds.
A massive tidal wave crashed into them, the trident twisting before pulling itself from their form. To the surprise/delight/horror of them, there seemed to be some damage to their form, as unfamiliar as it was. Furthermore, the sheer mass of the water pressed down on them, successfully moving them slightly lower in the air. The flight to this planet had weakened them more than they had expected. They looked down at their form, glowing and iridescent as they refused to look like anybody, and they saw their hands fraying at the edges.
They were bleeding.
As this thought shocked/frightened/horrified/elated/enraged them, a bolt of charged electricity struck them, blowing a chunk out of their shoulder. The sky opened up, light pouring down from below. Then a deafening boom. Rapid expansion of gases from the heat. And then another bolt. And more beings were emerging from the sky. As if in response, the ground trembled, splitting beneath them in a grinning chasm, a yawning pit of pure darkness. As the seawater roared, pouring in massive waterfalls down the new ravine, phantasmic hands grasped and clawed for them. A curious wheeled contraption drawn by black animals/a chariot galloped towards them and an invisible figure gored them with a two-pronged weapon.
Who were these powerful beings?
The invisible figure galloped on, throwing them off of their weapon and slamming their form into the earth. Another wave engulfed them, and when the water retreated, they could see more and more of these beautiful/terrible/ugly/alien/frightening/awe-inspiring creatures emerging. They struck at them, tearing away chunks of their essence while they could not even flee. Yet this was not their end. They simply needed to be convinced. Their mind opened and reached for these figures.
And touched nothing.
Impossible/mortal terror/how/confusion/they can’t be. They were not minds at all, far from it. Crude imitations, perhaps, and they could act like one’s with minds could, and yet they lacked the true depth of them.
Shallow. Archetypical.
Even as vines and silver arrows pierced their form, tearing away memories and power both, they were mystified/disgusted/appalled/intrigued/terrified/enamored by these creatures. Summoned, like figments of wild imaginations. Like the images of Themselves that they held in their mind.
It clicked suddenly. If this Field was anything like their own, then it bent to the yoke of its creator: the minds. And so the minds had shaped these figures to defend themselves with no risk of negotiating. Clever/ingenious/devious/abhorrent/understandable/unspeakable/despicable. Thus, they simply needed to find the minds. They threw their remaining power in a vast net, covering half the planet, scanning for the minds. And minds they found in spades.
Everywhere they looked, they could see creatures—they called themselves many things but when they saw each other, they could generally agree they were the same species—living separate and closed. While that was a problem that could be remedied later, they needed to cull the summoned constructs now before they ended them. As they looked through the consciousnesses of some of these creatures, who generally seemed to have no particularly outstanding powers whatsoever, they found the ploy. Small bits, images and stories of these figures, which they called gods by names such as Jupiter Maximus, Mars Ultor, Diana, Neptune, Vulcan, Pluto, Minverva, coalesced into these beings of extreme power.
A massive colossus of metal—Talos, the bronze giant they surmised—reared back its foot and smashed it into their still-prone form. The blow shattered a mountain, launching them into the air, where they were immediately swarmed by lightning bolts and gods, and the assault redoubled. Despite the smoking holes and burning metal that riddled their body, they knew that this conflict would not be resolved with sheer power. It was, as with all things, about arguing their case.
And so, they reached out into all the minds of mortals, and cut out the belief in gods.
Immediately, the assault ceased. The metal golem wavered uncertainly, it’s formerly lithe movements arrested. There was no power for it to move, no belief that it indeed could. It took mere seconds before the sentience faded from its sculpted eyes and it froze, a mere statue. Gods fell from the sky as the powers failed them and divine weapons lost their luster.
They stood up. The assault had injured them grievously, certainly, but they had more than enough power to destroy these weakened constructs. They ripped the bronze colossus into razor sharp shards, creating a lethal telekinetic whirlwind which began to move.
A god lay prone on the ground before them. It spoke in words, which thanks to their survey of the minds of the planet, they managed to translate.
“Screamer,” a curse, a malediction of some kind, “you screamed and faith broke.”
They did not reply. Instead, they drove the densely packed maelstrom of blades around and around themselves until naught remained but a pockmarked beach flowing with gold ichor. They stood there for several moments, contemplating what they had done.
What a novel experience.