Episode I: Mezzanine/Angel/Part I: Dissolved Girl
“Now tell me, what are you?” The sharp familiar tenor stabbed my mind to a true wakefulness. The room was cold, clad in darkness and steel. The sting of the eyes by the small silver torch. He circled me and… waited. I had gained consciousness only a week ago, he said that my name was Syfa Illmatar and that he had found me in a place called the Desert Full of Dead. I awoke abruptly one night ago to discover strange glyph-like markings covering my naked body; my back, shoulders, the right arm and the back to right side of my neck, ending in claw-like flame patterns going from the right side of my face and thinning out once they neared my jawline and chin. The time I awoke was when the news about Stygia’s closure was completed, the event known as National Awakening had begun. I was awake, but hazy on that night but I knew that He was there, standing at the side of my bed where I slept hours before.
“I am Purpose.” That is all I am now, that is what I have become, it is also what I have left. There was the barest hint of a smile in his now avian features. I however, felt no emotion he felt, not even through the Bond. No matter, having no emotions will hinder some members of the human population when it comes to interaction, but I will accept these odds. He stopped circling me in the room, shining the torch again in my eyes.
“Purpose of what?” Another stab, another question. The tentacles I remember seeing restraining me on the night of National Awakening as I started to shake, toss and turn in my sleep emerged from his back with the smoothness of flowing water turning into flexible shining steel. That was the second nightmare running during the night, he said that I had to sleep with a blanket made out of Limiting Chains through the rest of the night to stop me from breaking valuables or harming living beings. The only things that I had truly destroyed or killed was a computer farm and an empty, collapsing bees nest without ever being outside.
“Purpose of a tool.” After all, for the rest of clueless humanity, purpose is a tool for doing things and getting things done. The first of the fourteen tentacles weaved around his left arm and snaked onto my right, embedding its sharp point into my wrist. The feeling was like a marching-ant styled itch, the itch began to smolder and burn, amplifying itself by the minute. I saw blood dripping around the wound, trying to heal itself. A second tentacle out of the fourteen quickly shot towards the other arm as a restraint to my obvious action.
“Tool of what?” The more I tried to move, the more he tightened his grip. Odd, it was like feeling two things at once. Like being cold and numb with pins-and-needles, but with a warmth. It is said that feelings distract humans often, whether emotional or tactile. The right is pain carried from my left, the left is pleasure carried by my right, and my head as the center of all emptiness. I ceased my movement.
“A tool of the two-sided, to save or to endanger, an angel for good, an angel for evil.” The feelings were gone, the restraints removed… I feel an emptiness, the emptiness felt when waking from sleep. The bird-face shifted into a blank and featureless flat ovoid of a face, displayed the hologram of the familiar ball-masque, looking amused.
“An angel, eh? I will see about that.” I felt something wet like a raindrop on my head, something told me that we were both going somewhere.
“Maybe there is hope inhabiting this bottle after all.” The one known to me as Master said this mainly to himself. To me, hope is an illusion to be manipulated. It is the same with angels, some turn out to be better than others, like the human race. A glyph appeared underneath me, the both of us were taken out of the room and treated to a view of the outside world, with the clouds changing from a black to white gradient now and then with the Stygian Blockade’s interference.
“Hope is of a religious and mythological topic, it has nothing to do with us.” I could not tell whether the sound of my voice irritated him. He turned around with the same amused face and shook his head from side to side.
“Hope stops the rest of them” he pointed to the populace milling about below, doing their business. “from drowning in their own despair, this applies to us as living beings as well.” Living beings? That should not include Master Ghayth as well or does it? A conundrum of which I will deal with at a later time; I made it fade away. For now.
“On a much lighter note, the Machine-Emperor has decided to enlist us in helping him with this Stygia Blockade business.” From what I have heard about this man, he is ancient, but powerful. Let me not be disappointed in knowing that he is one of those… beasts, scurrying below that I can see from the balcony of where I stand.
“Good, he is actually serious about all this? Do you know much about him?” The reddish sunset skies began to drizzle with rain. It must mean that their God is weeping because of the state of the world. My Master cupped his hands and gathered the rain in them, peered at the gathered liquid and the creatures inside, seeing more than just a cupped handful of water and saw beyond. His face turned to one of a mixture between sadness and concern.
“We are all putting ourselves into gear; this whole phenomenon is turning the world upside down. We must go.” Maybe this world of ours is changing for the worst after all, but then again, all things must die, including myself. I will accept these odds.