prismaticbleed: (drained)

 


The past few days have been in "compressed time" mode which means that, despite only being about 100 hours, it feels as if it has been 100 days.
The "indian food" hell lasted exactly 3 days, which is typical, and stopped as suddenly as it started, thank God.
The similar tied obsession with the vanilla coconut butter lingered until today due to it having an "incredible texture" and therefore being latched onto by one of the eating socials, the young one (12? 13?) who doesn't understand suffering and genuinely is a good kid but is too careless as well. Yesterday we bought a bunch and planned to save it but as usual, the "God warning" of everyone in the house suddenly swarming the kitchen the instant we try to eat happened, and lasted for several hours, so we were unable to focus. Therefore no data stuck, which was very bad because apparently we got disastrously ill from the oil content, as someone added what had to be an entire extra jar of it to the mixture. It's a blur; virtually the whole day is missing from memory.
Today we tried once more and it went well until someone actually swallowed like two spoonfuls and immediately we had a compulsive vomiting meltdown. This is not intentional; it is a body reaction and we need to be very mindful of those as they are not under our control.
We did make a good salad today, and Emmett and Aimee ate it mainly. They also "shared" it with the Phantomilian Jewel, who is the "writer Jewel" (age 12?) who has strong fronting roots and probably counts as a pseudo-core, but who, today, realized that she is NOT an artist or musician, but an idea channel. She's tied to the "outspacer root" potential, so she can't create on her own, but she can easily create within other existing contexts. Therefore she's trying to hold a Phantomilian form because not only would that reflect her more individually, but also because nonhuman forms are much, much safer. Also I should clarify that despite using "she" pronouns, this Jewel, too, counts as childhood-androgynous which basically boils down to them not giving much of a hoot about gender in general.

August has been declared to be "no addiction month" and we are extremely hopeful and grateful and excited for it. The past two weeks, as was mentioned in the previous entry here, have been similarly time-jammed in that tons of healing events are happening ridiculously fast and with actual completion tied to them. We have no idea what could have instigated this sudden dramatic progress jump (besides prayer) but we are not complaining ot picking it apart; we are simply inundated with thankfulness and are doing our absolute best to respond accordingly to such vast improvements by integrating them as quickly and entirely and smoothly as possible.

There's not much else to say about today. We are going to watch tonight's Steven Universe episode and then possibly put our thoughts together concerning the marathon so far, if we have any such thoughts. We tend to just absorb, not analyze. So despite being deeply moved and inspired by much of what we've seen in the past 10 episodes, there's not much to discuss. But we will try to make sure.

We are trying to sell more items as we are desperate to make some extra money to pay off debts ASAP. This is exhausting as the process of photos and typing and listing and all that technical work is actually mentally taxing and it wears us out very quickly. But it must be done.

We also want to get back into composing music but ever since last winter's computer crash, the program hasn't worked properly. We aren't sure how to fix it, as we lost half our instruments and half our files, and furthermore the files we have left largely won't open or play. So that alone destroyed a lot of our motivation.
Nevertheless we realize that there are alters built for writing music and if they have to start again from square one they probably can. We need to find them and ask them to work instead as they are the only ones who can.
One very, very notable thing about this topic that Jay discovered by accident while listening to the old iPod is that, for us, the most potent and powerful and instantaneous way to summon an alter is by music. Music is profoundly important to us as a whole, on every level, and its most interesting quaity is that songs are literal bubbles of time. Any given song that we know has an exact mood and time period tied to it, and this can be used for good or ill, and it is virtually impossible to rewrite or overwrite once it has been established. Certain alters are practically fused to certain songs, and those songs are the ONLY way to even find certain alters, most notably socials, as their existence requires "internal ignorance" and as a result our levels generally aren't even conscious of each other. But music bridges that gap, as far as summoning goes. This is vitally important.
The point I'm making here is, we know exactly what songs are tied to certain time periods of university and such that resonate with artists and musicians. If we can listen to those songs more and let those alters simply move in and take over-- even if they do still think it's 2009-- then we can "get back into" art and music effortlessly, because for those alters they never stopped to begin with.

Speaking of winter, it still feels as if we haven't seen a single once since 2013. Last year is missing entirely, and 2014 feels like a timeline already dead to us. We haven't quite adjusted into any sort of solid timeline in the wake of all that mess yet, but hopefully what we're experiencing now is that process finally occurring.

We have not been sleeping well, averaging between 3-5 hours a night for about two weeks now. Same with food, when we do eat it's one meal a day and barely scrapes 1000 calories if we're pushing it. We have not been keeping track due to the huge amount of switching and dissociation tied to eating but we are aware that it hasn't been smart. So this is not helping our health. We have also been too haggardly weak to exercise post-hospital but we are trying our best to at least get back into walking again. Our best option would be to start doing our nightly kitchen walks with the iPod again, as those were a solid hour of pure System meditation every day, and God knows we need that more than anything else currently.
We listened to the entire Todd Rundgren concert we recorded from earlier this year while walking about two weeks ago, and that night is already solid and beloved in our memory, just wandering in tired circles while reliving that experience and watching bone broth simmer on the stove at 12am. It's such an odd but lovely thing to have memories sticking again like that, but again, it's shown that only certain kinds of memories stick, and we need to be conscious and full of wonder and love tohave such memories. Numb and selfish and ignorant and manic alters cannot remember things.

Jay downloaded a few GBC/GBA ROMs and he is playing the Pokemon GSC trio in his downtime to help relax. That trio is very dear to our collective heart, as it was practically Jewel's native world back in 2001-2002. It has the same "at home" feeling that Nier and Klonoa and the Genesis Sonic games do-- it's hard to explain, but the simple sight of the scenery, or the sound of the music and sfx, is not only deeply comforting but also grounding. Like the general experience of those games feels safe, and right, and good and true and happy. There are a few other games that fit this bill to an extent, but when it really comes down to could I exist in this game-world as a PERSON, then it gets very individualized and Nier & Klonoa win out. This is a topic we should write more on, remind me. It has that heart-glow quality to it that indicates it has enough love tied to it to inspire a great deal of writing.

We're learning to tap into intuition again, and the future-hope of getting Pokemon GO is helping greatly, as we're going to join Team Instinct not just because Zapdos is beloved to us, but because a team based on faith/ intuition/ trust is exactly our vibe. But, with that in mind, we keep reminding ourself to check our instinct" when we make tricky decisions and it is helping a LOT. Our gut feelings are very reliable, surprisingly and thankfully. What I wanted to mention though is that in order to properly use this intuition we have to channel Zapdos. We're used to channeling all sorts of monsters and characters from all sorts of worlds, and Pokemon takes up the majority of such sorts, but it's still eyebrow-raising to realize how easily and smoothly and quickly we CAN begin "channeling," or even becoming, a new Pocket Monster with solid roots and a function, even if they only exist within that function. That's no issue though, as many of us nousfoni exist like that as well, as it's far less stressful and confusing than trying to exist as a "conglomerate" in too many situations. Splitting things up is more efficient and healthy for us.

We are trying, very hard, to get back to living AS a System again. The two sole obstacles in our way are:
1. the grandmother not quite understanding the concept at all due to a simple life-view and religious blinders, and
2. the mother and brother constantly insisting that we're "fake" and "making it up for attention" and "toying with their minds," etc.
These are huge stumbling blocks, especially the second, as their reactions to us quickly became so brutally accusing and scathing and scary, that we began to shut down instantly in their presence, and after so many weeks the socials were forced into full-time function despite their being lethally broken and damaged, solely because the mind decided we could not survive living as our true self because we couldn't cope with this family response. That's why we're a mess right now; our psyche LITERALLY judged that mental suicide was "safer" than asserting our existence because let's face it; we were having so many breakdowns it was unreal, and we could NOT cope. We got too sick too often, we landed in the hospital, we couldn't recover from that well either... you get the idea. But now we have enough evidence saying "hey we know this seemed like a viable option but it's killing our mind AND body now so it needs to stop." And the mind is letting us come back, BUT it's scared because we still live with the mom & bro and they are still completely unaccepting of our System's existence. But we just need to accept that and ignore it. It's all we can do, is just leave the room when they start. I know the kids want to start screaming and sobbing but that just makes the family members react with even more acidity. So we just need to bail, and take time for ourself, instead of sticking around and shutting down and having to deal with the resulting forced-out numb social's eating disorder abuse. It's a coping mechanism, it has to be. They've said, many times, that they "feel they have no reason to live other than eating," and maybe that IS true, what with their highly minimal functions. They're forced out in stressful times to numb everything out and "just survive," not existing beyond that crude goal, so "living to eat" may indeed define them exactly. HOWEVER it's notable that they're now aware of this and unhappy with it. This first spark of self-awareness is the prerequisite for a social to become an internal, gaining a color and a face and a name and a life, and God knows that if we could get THOSE socials to that point at long last, all our biggest problems would stop dead, beautifully so, and we'd be free to actually exist, to actually live again, as us.

That's all we want to say for now. Our mind is getting into borderline poet mode (things are becoming more imaginative and floaty) so I cannot type anymore or I will be pushed out and someone else will be pushed in. This is not bad, it's just not proper for this entry. Let them write their own, unhindered by topic context. We need their free-flowing thoughts just as much as we need this data. It's crucial to stay bright inside, it defines us all.

I wish you all well tonight, and thank you for reading this.

 

zzzzzz

Oct. 10th, 2015 11:36 pm
prismaticbleed: (soniccity)


(written all at once, without warning, as it was happening ( stream-of-consciousness). left unfinished. god willing, will re-enter this timespace and finish the event in the future. nevertheless what is written here is real.)





Jewel Lightraye stepped onto the battlefield, sneakers crunching in the snow.
Everything was so pale. The ground was covered in a bleary cold whiteness, forbidding life from growing, the low wind blowing away all footprints in swathes of dusty, frigid air. It didn’t even look clean, not underneath that dark and dim of a sky, suffocating in a fog so low and thick it felt like being trapped under a carpet of insulation. Everything was painted the dimmest shade of bleached-out indigo. Everything felt dead.
She stopped, shivering hard all at once, as the temperature data finally bit into her, like needles through her summer clothes. Her body responded with the sudden urge to cry and curl up in a ball in that dingy ashen floor of a snowdrift. Her reply was to reach up and adjust her baseball cap more tightly onto her head, before taking a resolute step forwards.
The crunch surprised her now, even though she had heard it just as clearly the first time. After having taken in all that desolation, the sudden squeak of ice and rubber soles was shockingly alive, a sign of something moving, something with hope in it yet, striving forwards—

“Jewel! Is that you?”
She spun to her left at the sudden voice, in time to see three familiar and beloved individuals appearing out of the dark fog, running up the sloping hill to her.
Ryou was the first in line, his arms wrapped tightly about his signature blue-and-white striped shirt. At least he’s got long sleeves, Jewel thought amusedly.
“Yeah, it’s me,” she replied, feeling oddly nostalgic at that. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” Ryou repeated, eyebrows raising slightly. “Where are we? What is this?”
Jewel peered over his shoulder as he spoke. Marik was there, but he had pulled on his old Rare Hunter hoodie, which was virtually the same color as the sky here. Despite having more clothes cover than the rest of the gang, he looked positively distressed, at least as much as he would let show like this. He was shivering more than Ryou.
She shrugged, focusing her eyes back on the snow-haired boy before her (the flakes weren’t even visible in his hair until they melted into drops; if it wasn’t so depressing here it might have been pretty).
“I have no idea,” she stated, “but that’s typical fare for us I guess.” Ryou smiled at that, but it was tinged with something like… regret? Sadness?
“It is.” His voice was starting to sound like the weather.
A small silence settled into the wake of those words, and Jewel, heart beginning to twinge with concern, pushed up on her toes to peer over Ryou’s other shoulder. Sure enough, there he was.
Standing with his back half-turned to her, a creature looking like the ocean tide personified stood in silence, wrapped up in himself just as much as the rest of them, his gem-green eyes rife with enough turbulent anguish to drown everyone around if it got loose. The very sight of that sent a lightning-sharp strike of pain straight through Jewel’s heart.
“What… were you all this sad before you came here? Or do you not know?” she asked Ryou, as she began to shiver for real this time.
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “It could be both.”
“We were all sad and this is making it worse,” Marik’s voice sparked like a dying fire from under his dark hood.
For a moment no one said anything, then all their attention turned silently to Chaos 0.
His wet eyes darkened. “There’s something dark and carnivorous here,” he began, his voice far more level than his friends expected in this situation. “It’s in the air. It’s in the snow.” He turned his deep-sea gaze to Jewel, so pointedly that for a moment she wasn’t sure where she was. “Where are we, Jewel?”
Now both the other boys turned to look at her.
“I…” she faltered. She had said she didn’t know, but now thinking it over, she supposed it was only half true. She had no idea what this place literally was, true, but if there’s one thing she knew for sure about Heartspace it’s that it was always, always, adherent to that term.
Whatever place they were in right now, it had existed inside them first.
“…Hopelessness,” she said all at once, and saw a flash of pain sear through Marik’s eyes. “Despair. The sense of being lost and not knowing where one is, let alone where to go.”
She paused. “…Loneliness? I-I mean,” she faltered, “we’ve got each other, but—”
“…Do we really?” Ryou responded, and everyone looked back at him.
“I know you all feel it,” he continued, his voice picking up a twinge of too-dark paranoia. “Who are we now? Where DO we go from—“
“That’s the REASON this place is like it is, Bakura!!” Chaos suddenly snapped, like a dam breaking. “You—you were never this existential, you were never this doubtful of your own existence! Markus, you were never this scared!!”
A sudden profound silence fell over them. Chaos had used Marik’s new name.
“…It’s a little hard not to be scared with that in the air,” the boy in question replied, withdrawing further into his hoodie. Whatever fire was in him before was now turned to slush.
Chaos looked up, starkly into the distance, as if planning something. Then he turned back to Jewel.
“This place is unstable, Jewel. I know you’re trying to hold it together but the very nature of this place is messing with everyone here. Including me,” he added, pressing a hand to the gem in his chest. Jewel
was struck by the sudden remembrance of it. “Whatever this place is, it IS from us, and we’re here because we’re here on the outside too, and we need to get through this.” He winced. “…Or we’ll freeze to death.”
Jewel set her face like flint at that. Nodding once, she turned to the right, raised her arm, and sent a tunnel of fire blasting through ahead of them.
The two boys watched, wide-eyed, as the fire seemed to stretch on terribly far, even as the fog swallowed it up.
“Shoot,” Jewel said, a hint of despair creeping into her voice.
“Don’t,” Chaos put a huge clawed hand on her shoulder. “Don’t give in. It’s hard enough for me to hold out for your sake; if you lose hope we’re all doomed.”
She looked up at him, heart aching with what he had just said, but she nodded again. “I’ll try,” she said.
He smiled, just as achingly. “You’d better.”
“…Jewel?”
She turned back around to see Ryou—or was it Rio now?—wringing his hands with a sudden lack of fright, and an equally surprising clatter of insect-claws against his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said, somewhat confusedly. “I’m… let’s just go.” He took a few steps forwards to stand beside her, eyes shining blue, and still following where the fire had gone.
A giant spidery figure crept up to overshadow the boy.
Rio,” it pronounced, and Jewel swore it had managed to say both his names at once, “Walk.
He did. One step in and he quickly turned to look at Jewel, a pleading sort of helplessness in it, a total lack of understanding that required as much support as it could get.
In turn, Jewel turned her head around to give Markus (as he was now, so many years later) a look of fire, of confidence, a silent statement of “I believe in you and I want you with us.” Then, unable to help it, she grinned in her lopsided way and motioned for him to follow. A tiny smile crinkled his violet eyes in response, and with one last (and not unmissed) glance towards the shadows behind him, he hurried forwards to join the rest of them.

“So why is Lethe here.”
Rio looked scared at Jewel’s blunt question, and opening his mouth in surprise, failed to say anything at first.
“I—”
“He needs to carry his fears separately,” the monstrous being replied with unusual calmness, looking down at the boy. “They will devour him otherwise.”
Rio said nothing to that-- he only tightened his lips and kept his eyes locked straight ahead.
“Markus,” the daemon spoke, “you should do the same.”
He flinched hard at the near-accusation. “I-I can’t,” he stuttered in real fright, “I’m not ready to face her yet, not like this—“
“You may have to,” was the reply. “Especially in a place like this.”
Then, silence. Jewel looked back and saw that Markus was looking down, fighting back real tears. This was so unlike how he used to be when they first met—all proud enthusiastic daring—that it broke her heart. She hung back a step to fall in sync with him, and tentatively put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, his deep bronze skin seeming washed-out in the pallor of the place.
“You don’t know what she’s like,” he whispered. “She frightens me, Jewel. She’s…” he broke off momentarily, struggling with words. “…She’s a reminder of what I’ve been trying to ignore all these years-- a blatant, un-ignorable reminder.” He took a sudden breath as his eyes hardened. “She’s an in-your-face statement that ‘you’re not as tough as you think you are! You’re just a scared little kid playing God to forget the fact that you’re terrified and helpless and you’ve never felt so alone in your life.’ And then I met you guys.” Almost apologetically, his voice softened again. “Then I… I slowly stopped wanting to rule the world. I slowly started to be happy with what I had. But I was so scared of losing it, losing you, all of you, in any way, that I… the fear just changed shape. And now it looks like her. She’s pride and glory on one side, and helpless despair on the other.”
“Rags and riches?” Jewel offered.
Markus chuckled. “Kind of. More like… power and the total lack of it. Success, and the total lack of it. Gold and dirt. Rags and riches,” he shrugged, and laughed a little more genuinely this time. “I guess you’re right.”
Jewel smiled too, but it was still sad at the edges.
“So your Vice is… what? Pride?” Chaos asked, his brow furrowed.
Markus shrugged again, quickly, as if trying to shake the thought from his shoulders. “Maybe.”
“What does she feel like?” Jewel asked.
Markus considered this, looking momentarily up and ahead at Rio, who as obviously listening but not daring to turn or stop with his own embodied Vice pushing him forwards.
“--Rio, what does Lethe feel like?” Markus suddenly asked, audibly pushing through hesitation to do so.
“What?” came the baffled reply, as the boy faltered to a stop to turn and face his friend. The creature in question did the same, its single eye appearing to smile, as neutrally as one could imagine.
“I…” Markus’s hesitation replied in the shadow of that thing. “…Y-your daemon, it… aren’t daemons supposed to be Vices? Worst fears? Your biggest shadows?”
”Yeah…” Rio began, noncommittal.
“Well…” Markus gulped. “W-what’s yours?”
Rio said nothing for several seconds. The question hadn’t appeared to fully register, and it was obvious he wasn’t planning (or able) to respond.
“’What do I feel like,’ you mean?” Lethe murmured, amused. “Tell them, Rio. Tell them how I’m your fear of what lurks in the dark when you turn off the light, or the utter lack thereof. Tell them how I’m the sound of nothing when you lock all the doors. Tell them how I’m the redness behind your eyes--”
“Okay, okay!!” the white-haired boy nearly sobbed. “Lethe is… my fear of my unknowing. He’s my fear that nothing out there really exists, or even worse, that the only thing that exists is nothing. I’m scared that… I’m scared of everything out there that can turn me into nothing. Of laziness, and “Sloth,” and of not wanting to do anything but waste my days away with addictions and distractions because I’m scared of facing the emptiness beyond. I’m scared because I know he’s right, but I don’t know how to… how to learn from him yet.”
“It takes time, River,” the daemon spoke with unusual softness. “But the waters will move.”
Chaos visibly pondered that.
“You’re forgetfulness and death,” Jewel suddenly said. “Lethe and Styx.”
“I am,” he replied. “I am emptiness. I am the Void he runs from.”
“But I thought Daemons held both good and bad sides of the coin?” Jewel continued unsurely.
This time, Lethe’s smiling eye was far darker.
“Do I not?” His voice was like distant thunder. “Tell me, Jewel. Who is Dendrite to you?”
Jewel was the silent one now, her mind outright blanking out at the question. “I don’t know,” she said simply.
And Lethe laughed, a low watery rumble of a thing that shook her bones. “You run from your own heart and interrogate others who do the same. Be not a hypocrite, Jewel.”
Shamed by the harsh but too-true accusation, she lowered her gaze.
But… Dendrite. The name of her elusive alleged Daemon. Jewel knew she existed, but… where? How? Then again, Jewel had never given much of a thought to her own “vices,” had never even considered that she might have any at all… her innocent ignorance of sorts had gotten the better of her. Now, it seemed that the simple reality that she HAD a Daemon manifested somewhere was unsettling enough.
“…What is death, but only a door?”
She looked up.
“What is forgetfulness, when tied to fear?” Lethe continued. “Consider it, Jewel. A Daemon is a curse and a blessing. It is our nature. We cannot be otherwise. Fear us as you will, but remember—” and he smiled again, like crinkled silver—“we cannot exist without you. We are of you. And if there is any good in you, then there is just as much good in us.”
“…And what if there’s a lot of bad in us?” Rio mumbled, his voice almost stomped flat.
Lethe turned to him now, and in one liquid motion, curled up to be almost face-to-face with the boy. “What is ‘bad’ to you, Rio?”
“’Bad’ means harmful to my soul, or someone else’s,” he replied, a bitter sharpness creeping into his tone.
“Am I ‘bad’ to you, Rio?”
A pause; he was struggling with the question. “…I’m… not sure. You feel bad, you feel like all the bad in me, but you’ve never done anything to hurt me…”
“Then take that as a lesson, child,” the creature responded with subtle gravity. “You do not have to act on it. You can die to it. And then you can forget being what you were when you fell victim to it in the past.”
“Why would I want to forget the wrong I’ve done??” Rio burst out.
“So you can move on,” Lethe said simply. “Forget, after you have died to it. Don’t go back. Don’t drag yourself back into the grave you must rise from.”
Rio was again silent. His face was hot with tears and confusion and he looked even more knotted-up than Markus had earlier.
“Does that answer your question now, Jewel?”
She jumped, surprised at the Daemon’s sudden question. “I—yeah. I’ll have to think about it. But I’ve got it.”
“Don’t think too much,” the spidery thing chuckled.

They started walking again. No one was speaking. The fog and snow continued to whirl about
them, as dead and cold as ever, and Jewel noticed with no small amount of fright that she was starting to numb to it. Her mind, in an attempt to “protect her” from the inclement environment, was shutting down her ability to feel the cold, to see the shadows.
Almost impulsively, she flared up another burst of fire around her body, and flung it forwards into the half-night. Again, it seared through the fog and snow, but this time, the further it went, the darker the sky got around it, until it seemed to hit something solid and pitch-dark.
They all stopped at that.
“What are you trying to do, Jewel?” Lethe lazily inquired.
“Is that a wall?” Chaos questioned agitatedly. “Is this a dead end??”
Almost instantly Markus ran up to it, his hood falling away in the sudden burst of speed, champagne-gold locks catching a few feeble snowflakes. He closed the distance between them and the wall in a surprising matter of seconds—as intention tended to do in Heartspace—and without warning, began striking at it with the bladed end of his Rod.
“No!! This can’t be it!! You can’t just trap us here, you can’t just block us from getting any further!!” Furious and despairing, he struck the wall again with all his might. “Damn it!”
A solid chip of wall shattered off and flew to land on the ground behind him. The snow was fading here, the cold was dulling out, the sky above them losing what little color it had. Everything was now slowly vanishing away into that odd brassy-black stone, into an even more pervading sense of night… or no, something even darker than that; this darkness was in the absence of a sun or a moon, the sort of total black one only felt underground.
Markus was sobbing now, slumping against the wall, Chaos standing behind him in a desperate attempt to comfort. Rio appeared torn between numbness and compassion, and some awful sort of fear was holding him still, tears streaming down his face.
A voice came.

“Markus.”

He jumped notably, his whole body convulsing with fear. “No!!” He cried. “No, not you, not now, not here!!” Hysterical, Markus ran into Chaos’ arms and clung to the blue creature, almost choking from terror.
At this, Rio cast a heart-wrenching glance towards Jewel, and in that moment she understood just how lost he really was here, in the place that was just as white and dark and lonely as… wait.
Her eyes widened for a moment, but she cast that away just as quickly, refusing to dwell on that detail when it was obvious he needed support now. She moved over to him and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. He returned the gesture, tangibly relieved, but still shaking.
It struck her that he still felt as young as he did years ago, that he still felt safe to be around, like this. Despite his fear there was no ego to it; there was no sense of pride or performance or pity to it. No, he felt a need for love and he turned to someone he knew he could feel that with. There was nothing but childlike trust in that, something she treasured, something their quadruple-friendship here was built upon. Whatever bitter edges he had begun to show earlier had been completely rubbed down to velvet nubs now, so to speak. Everything was as soft and safe as it should be.
She wondered if Lethe’s appearance was responsible.
“Jewel,” Rio began, his voice thick with regret and apology.
“Yeah?”
“I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know how to comfort him, I—” he broke off, audibly crushed by this.
Jewel looked at him compassionately. “Maybe don’t try so hard?” she began. “I mean… you and me, I think we worry too much. Chaos just kind of… went over there. He didn’t do anything, but that might’ve been intrusive? I dunno,” she hesitated. “He was there when Markus needed him. He was close enough.” Another tight pause. “And I was here for you. Maybe that’s all we can do?”
“Hm,” Rio considered. “You sure that’s enough?”
“Maybe we should ask.”
“Rio!! Jewel!!”
They both turned at Markus’s shout.
“On second thought, there’s our chance,” Jewel said, and the two ran over to their friend.

Rio began apologizing before he even stopped running. “Markus, I’m so sorry I didn’t come over here earlier—”
“You had that thing behind you, it’s okay,” the violet boy said-- and then appeared abashed for having expressed such a sentiment in earshot of said ‘thing.’ “I’m sorry,” he added ruefully.
“You know she’s here,” Lethe stated simply, and Markus’s face turned into a tangle of frustrated fear and sorrow all over again.
“Of course I know,” he spat. “I knew as soon as I saw her wall. She always…” he swallowed. “She always traps me in here.”
“Seems rather indicative of your subconscious,” his friend’s Daemon again calmly retorted.
Markus clenched his fists but remained silent. “What, that I’m trapped in here with her?” he replied at length.
“No, that you’re trapped because you refuse to face the minotaur. There is a way out of this labyrinth, child,” Lethe continued. “But she is guarding the exit.”




“…I’m scared of her,” he whispered once more, terribly vulnerable in the confession.
“We know,” Lethe observed, but his voice was oddly reassuring. “As is right, for we are indeed Daemons. Rio is terrified of me as well, if you have not forgotten.”
“But—but he—“ Markus gestured with a sort of frustrated despair at his friend. “But he’s letting you near him!! He’s TALKING to you!!” He stopped, his breath hitching, as his eyes caught a new light emanating from somewhere above—something gold. “How can he be scared if he’s just… letting you be there?”
Rio fidgeted a little at that. Lethe gave him a knowing look, and waited.
“…I bury it, Markus,” he said at length. “I… I’m scared of admitting that I’m scared? You’re a stronger man than me in that respect.”
“Oh, only that respect?” Markus retorted, a slight but brave smile in his shaking voice.
At that unexpected, familiar jab, Rio actually smiled back, a real smile, with a real chuckle lighting it up. “Y-yeah,” he added, just as bravely, and reached up with a slightly trembling hand to indicate his thick smoke-blue locks. “That and your hair game, I’ll give you that.”
And Markus laughed.

The gloom around them was suddenly warmer. The indigo shade had now shifted into something strangely luminous, even in the pervading shadows-- something bringing out a glint of sun-yellow even in the black walls.
Every one of them was smiling now, remembering what life had felt like back in the old days when they were kids; always joking with each other like this, never doubtful of each other no matter how dark it got. And now, once again, they were all momentarily wrapped up in nothing but that simple happiness, the lightness of being so suddenly triggered by a genuine bit of laughter, of good humor, of optimism even in the midst of strife… …And Lethe was still there.
He slowly curled into Rio’s shoulder again.
“So how does it feel to forget?”
Rio’s smile disappeared. Yet his face did not darken—instead, his eyes widened, his mouth now quiet with surprise.

Markus was still giggling at that old injoke, fingers playing with his gold-dust hair, but his eyes were wet, and his voice was quickly changing to match.
“…Markus?” Jewel asked, hesitantly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he insisted with an oddly bright calmness, but he was smiling up at her with those same sad eyes.. “I’m absolutely fine. And this is what I never want to lose, ever,” he emphasized, his expression now beginning to crack at the edges. “This. I don’t want to go back to being afraid or confused or alone or—I don’t want to lose this anymore—”
“Have you ever really lost it, Markus?” a voice cut through the air.
And he breathed in as sharply as a knife.
Something gold was stepping out of the shadows behind Rio, where there was no trace of fog or snow, only the edges of a maze deep beneath the ground.
It was a towering, sharp thing, with limbs like needles, clock hands, dagger-blades… it walked with unfaltering precision, with unsettling poise. Everything about it was polished and deadly.
It stopped, thirty feet away from Markus, and gazed down at him with a single, brilliant yellow eye.
Then its gaze softened.
Markus.”
He clamped his hands to his ears and fell to his knees, sobbing.

Rio was now looking back and forth between boy and beast in utter shock,



“Why are you so afraid of me?” she asked, quietly.

 

It suddenly struck Jewel that she’d never seen any of their Daemons act so kindly before.

 

***daemons do love their partner-souls but they also TAKE NO SHIT. They will NOT mollycoddle ANYONE for ANY REASON. If markus is running from his fears, his daemon is going to catch him and make him face them, no questions asked. A daemon knows ones bleakest parts and it exists to help you RECOGNIZE AND TRANSMUTE THEM. They literally cannot help you if you wont accept their existence— as rejecting them is rejecting that part of YOUR SOUL!!! The shadow IS vital for growth! A daemon just makes it that much easier to grapple with, when that dark awareness is held in something with a face and a heart that loves you, even if it has a rather sharp way of showing it. If you can learn to love them in return, then congratulations, you can now love yourself the same way. And that love is MANDATORY to reach one’s best self. The toughest part is the first acceptance though… that initial cognizance of what a daemon IS, what it carries, and the fact that it is part of you. The shame, guilt, fear, anger, and denial can be potent. Hence the separation of selves—if you can’t accept that part of yourself literally at first, at least accept it in them as something taken from you. Again, the ultimate goal is to learn UNCONDITIONAL LOVE for yourself and EVERYONE ELSE, without losing honor and righteous devotion. It’s a process and at first it is indeed rocky. But step 1 is always to open your mind and heart. It all goes from there.***

 

“We are not evil, no more than you are. Take that as you will.”
But Markus’ face was shaken.
“Why is everyone here so afraid of being evil?” Chaos frustratedly spoke up from behind his friend. “



 

Later, in response to “what’s Infinitii’s vice, then?”
“It’s… the vice of not realizing that my vices are vices.”

 

 

 

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