farfromgrace | momquest: a quest for moms

momquest: a quest for moms

[ It's another day in Tokyo-D, and the relentless cycle of content generation for the masses goes on; how long have you been filming this drama, exactly? And it's not that it's a bad show, per se, but the fact that it's really dedicated to showing the gritty realities of combat and using practical effects for it is... kind of a lot.

Also it can't decide if it wants to be a show about frenemies or about enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies. Cowards.

And besides, it's not home, is it?

It occurs to you on break at the really honestly lackluster buffet table set up for the actors and any surviving extras that... there's really not that much security on this show, all things considered, unless there's something you're not seeing... ]

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[ it's—

it's storage. it's a storage room and it's full of half-open boxes of packaged foods with sparkly wrappers (some cheerfully marked as "sinless") and it's almost certainly a dead end. and from what you can hear behind you, security's in the store.

you might need to make a stand. ]

Shit. Fuck. Bloody Empress.

[ Well, there'd been what, just the three of them? Putting it that way, it's almost insulting. Who did they think she was, honestly.

...It is a bit of a shame to be trapped in such a tight space. So she uses what are most likely her last few moments before she's found to go back out to the break room and push the table to the side, giving herself something closer to the space needed to properly take advantage of her naginata's range. ]

[ you shove the table out of the way with a clatter, and clear more space just as the door slams inwards on its own, rattling against the wall.

the three people just outside are—maybe "people" is a strong word. one has feathered wings, another with white hair so bright it seems like it's shimmering, even tied back into a sensible bun. the third has shifting, glowing patterns beneath his skin. the second one speaks, sounding deeply emotionally tired: ]

"Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to return to the studio."

[ On the bright side, she's no longer insulted by the level of security the producers thought she merited. ]

I was just taking a walk. Meeting a few fans—it was a slow day at my transfer production, you know.

[ said cheerfully, still in her readied stance ]

Perhaps you should share your names? I don't recognize you from any show I know, and I'm sure we'd hate for there to be a misunderstanding.

[ the one with the shifting glowing patterns beneath his skin rolls his eyes, and sort of like... pulls at some of the glowiness until what seems like a glowing whip appears in his hand.

...and the person with the glowing hair rolls their eyes. ]

"What, is this name-and-badge-number so you can complain to our bosses? Take it up with the director of security for all I care. Cam, Badge 357, if you really wanna talk to Ramiel by all means give him a call, but I don't recommend it."

As it happens, I do have some complaints for him regarding our last meeting.

It's almost sad, though: that this is what you spirits have become. I wonder if this is what you all truly believe in.

[ but she doesn't wait for them to answer before springing forward: a feint to the right before sends the naginata left, past "Cam, Badge 357" and towards the whip user's glowing legs—

—an unbroken motion that continues (whether or not it connects) into a leaping arc; that spins and sends the blade down heavily at where the spirit's shoulder should be. ]

Edited 2020-11-27 03:05 (UTC)

[ The whip-user snaps his whip out, catching your wrist even as the blade cuts through fabric and embeds itself in the skin, blood like glow-in-the-dark paint spreading into the fabric; he grunts, but doesn't waste time in shaking another luminous whip out from his other hand, light beneath the skin congealing into something physical.

The winged member of the group, who up until now has looked slightly bored, sighs and snaps her fingers, and then suddenly a sharp ringing sound pierces the room, impossibly disorienting and even physically painful, although it only seems to affect you. ]

Tss—

[ an involuntary hiss of pain as the light digs into her wrist, but she grabs the glowing whip with her captured hand and gives it a yank, pulling its wielder in for a headbutt; then she shifts her grip on the naginata, pulling it free and driving the pommel into their stomach.

then the noise hits. she is trained enough to keep her naginata in guard position, but hopefully she has the whip user reeling, now, since she stumbles back, flinching. ]

[ He seems to be a hardy sort, but yeah, getting headbutted isn't really something anyone finds pleasant; probably the only reason he didn't drop the whip is that each of them seems to literally extrude from his hands. ]

"Can we—wrap this up fast, thanks—?"

[ ...he also sounds deeply irritated, which is not surprising. the woman with the wings meets his eyes and kind of shrugs expression still cool, and without speaking makes a motion like she's ringing a handbell, which only makes the sound worse.

Meanwhile "Cam" has gone entirely glowy from head-to-toe, like they're made entirely of white light wearing a black security jacket, and has some sort of communication device you're not familiar with out. ]

"Yeah, this is 357, we've got her cornered. Would appreciate some backup just in case. Address is—"

[ They start rattling it off. Corner of bork and bork, you know. I'm not figuring out if hell has a grid system. ]

Edited 2020-11-27 03:48 (UTC)

[ At this point she's fighting out of pure principle. (...Though, really, has she ever fought for anything else?)
She recovers her balance enough to go back to her "friendly" tone, even if she has to speak a bit through gritted teeth thanks to that sound. ]

What, are you not going to answer my question? I really do want to know.

[ She really does! But she also tries deafening herself for good measure. Come on—trying to pull the power towards her like she might the reins of an unruly horse.

Succeed or fail, though, she's charging towards the winged woman now, thrusting the naginata forward in a trio of strikes at her midsection. ]

[ all trying to pull that power to yourself does is—give you that weird feeling like a mild electrical shock again. even so, you charge, tugging against the whip-user's bindings, and then—

The woman with the wings tilts her head, smiles, which looks mildly unpleasant on her face, and starts to sing, and despite your best intention, you just freeze, staggering to an abrupt halt.

This... might be a problem. ]

[ ———oh. ]

Really now? Sorcery?

[ Out of curiosity, what does the song actually sound like? And if it has words, can any part of them be understood? ]

At least Lilith— [ a deliberate extra emphasis; a signal flare, if you will ] —had the grace to let me finish my strike.

[ It doesn't... actually sound like anything a human voice could sound like. Like a whole cathedral chorus shoved into the room, wordless, transcendent, airy. She doesn't stop singing, though; it's Cam who speaks, stowing away their ~~radio~~ weird black rectangle. ]

"Yeah, namedropping the Prince of Vengeance's mommy isn't really going to do you any favors here. This isn't her turf. You'd get more use out of praying. Simon?"

[ The man with the whip tips his head sideways in acknowledgement, with a "Yeah, Boss," and, wincing slightly, strikes out with his other whip to wrap around your other wrist. ]

[ Frozen in place, there's not much she can do to dodge the searing light around her wrist, though she strains against the bonds, searching for any point of weakness or faint lapse in concentration. ]

My own god is long-dead.

—And I think we've established pretty clearly that I'm not looking for favors from you three. Except finishing the fight properly, if you count that.

[ She's readying another headbutt for the next one to come in range, since it's just about the only part of her body she can move at all. ]

So... why do you all fight? I've seen how much it takes for your kind to pick yourselves back up from the ground.

[ it seems like they've all become Very Aware of the fact that you are ready and willing to fight dirty, so they're mostly working at range. Cam circles around to the side to pluck the naginata from your unable-to-move hands, and shrugs, giving it a very expert twirl.

...somehow it seems suddenly more polished in their hands, but maybe it's the fact that they are in fact like, 100% white light right now. ]

"'Our kind'? Simon here used to be an Imeeji idol, but if you're getting at what I think you are—I didn't pick myself up off the ground. I decided I wanted to choose my causes, so I did. Why not put my money on building something better?"

[ Simon gives a hard yank to both whips to pull your arms behind your back. The woman is still singing, in a way that's deeply distracting but at least no longer painful. ]

Edited 2020-11-27 05:01 (UTC)

[ taking her weapon? how fucking dare. ] So you are still frightened of what I can do.

[ then forced to wince at the feeling of her arms jerked backward ]

Choosing is a worthy thing, but can you really call this something better? These hollow lights, fueled by the tortured hope of the mortals you torment?

"Well, what you can do is annoying. Frightened's a strong word for it."

[ Their black box of communications makes a staticky buzz, and there's some sound from outside the staff area, like there's more people entering the store. ]

"But it's not about what is, it's about what we're making. You seem like the sort to know about sacrifice for a cause, right? A heaven for everyone, no exceptions. It's worth it."

Gods are shaped by the worship they are given.

Perhaps you can make another realm of the gods from this, but all the gods who live there will be self-serving ones.

[ Their mouth twists slightly. ]

"The God I was made to serve got to be self-serving all on His own. Don't put that on anyone else.

"Is it really that self-serving to want everything you went through to matter in the end? To feel like if you call out when you need it, that something will answer because there's someone who cares about you?"

[ there's a clamor like some more people arriving just outside the door. ]

"But I think we're close to done here."

There is always something.

[ The sound of commotion makes her strain against the glowing bonds again. If she could just... fucking... find a gap in that song; get the chance to actually use her strength— ]

Try giving your faith to a spirit actually worthy of it. Do better than this version of "better"!

[ there's no gap in the song. it echoes through your head, settling heavy into your limbs, in its perfect beauty.

Cam just laughs, though there's not venom in it. ]

"Well, you keep your faith and I'll keep mine, and we'll see who gets there first, but you're still right here, aren't you? If you think your conviction will find you some better heaven, then you best start praying. Belief's what matters, after all."

[ They jerk their head at Simon. ]

"C'mon, let's get her out of here."

[ a surprised laugh, though it's sharp ]

What, are you daring me to do it?

[ she makes very deliberate eye contact with Cam, and then—

—she sings. Her voice isn't the impossibly clear bell of Persephone, but it is nevertheless his song: ]

「 How small we are beside the river;
here where we scatter
our lives like flower petals—
flowers red as blood

Hear my song beside Your river;
red flowers in my hands.

What is everlasting in our world?
If water should rise
above my head
is it as fertile and deep as my faith? 」

[ Then, she ad-libs an extra refrain: ]

「 Hear my song far from Your river
that I might see Yu-Shan. 」

[ And—as the room fills with light, you realize:

It really was just as simple as that.

And in the moment before Delphi fades around you, you think you can almost see Cam smile.

> PROCEED. ]

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