Comments | edensphere_log: Welcome to Edensphere...

fugue_angel in edensphere_log

Welcome to Edensphere...

Mar 21, 2011 14:30

Characters: Clow/Syaoran Li (temp_ered), Ilyigan/Saul Samaren (favorthebold) and Fugue (fugue_angel)
Date/Time:3/21
Location: Hall of Beginnings
Rating: PG for teh noods
Summary: Clow and Ilyigan are born into Edensphere and someone is there to greet them.

( Back in the saddle again )

original: fugue, *birthday, ~original: saul (ilyigan), ccs: syaoran (clow)

Comments 21

fugue_angel March 23 2011, 03:17:21 UTC

"Do better?" What did Domé mean? "But it's true. Everyone who comes to Edensphere hatches from cocoons after experiencing a strange dream. Is that the same for you? Do you remember your name?"

He let out a breath and picked up one of the Greeter bundles in front of him. "My name is Fugue. I am here to answer the questions you may have and provide you with some supplies." He held out a towel to the firstborn cautiously.

The young boy's question was met with a confused look. "Go back? There is no way. No way anyone's found. You cannot see from here, but we are inside of a giant tree that is set in a giant glass dome. Get yourself dressed and see for yourself if you don't believe me. There is no way back."

favorthebold March 23 2011, 10:32:04 UTC

He had only half-noticed the child before, but now that question made the blond man give a start. Go back? Back where? With a thin sound of irritation at the back of his throat, he wiped more of the sticky fluid from his eyes and tried to think. If not a dream... what, then? A memory, perhaps, the only one he had.

But the most important one, he knew at suddenly. The crux, the center.

There had been an elsewhere. Another life, another world. For no reason that he could pin down, it was easier to grasp this than he supposed it should be: another world. And it seemed less important, anyhow, when he knew that he had the most important thing still here with him - the memory of lightning.

Absently, he took the towel from Fugue and began to wipe down his face and hair. "Not the first, are we?" he mused. "I suppose there must be a procedure. Well, what questions do they usually ask?" He put the issue of the name aside for now. The thought of it angered him, and for all that he could make sense of it, this was a bad time for anger.

temp_ered March 23 2011, 17:53:11 UTC

Glass could be broken, the boy thought, but he didn't say it. Someone would have tried already. And who's to say that what was outside it would be any better? Better to set that aside for the moment, to take the clothes he was offered and see what this place was, just on its own merits. That wasn't giving in. But there was little he could do right now, unclothed and disoriented.

The other man had asked what seemed like a strange question to him. Who cared what other people asked? He had his own questions.

"What's my name?"

That'd be a good start.

fugue_angel March 23 2011, 19:47:38 UTC

What was this? People were supposed to ask questions, not ask him to ask the questions. Hrumph.

"Well--they ask that." Fugue nodded at the second born. "Nobody remembers their names, their past or anything save for the dream they have just before waking. Rather than be nameless, we encourage a newborn to pick a name for themselves."

He passed out the 'one size fits all' clothing to the two and continued. "Typically something in the dreams calls out to the dreamer and they name themselves after it. It could be a place, a color, or anything that connected with you."

favorthebold March 24 2011, 11:07:28 UTC

"Who is 'we'?" Now, there was a pressing question. The notion of being in a foreign place, where he had not chosen to come and could not leave, was easier to swallow than he might have expected. And besides, that others have tried meant nothing at all. In another world - and at his center - he was the first man to do something impossible, and that cast a light of sorts on all other things. But it was for some reason important that he understand the balance of power in this new place, assuming there was one. He needed to know... "who rules this land?"

The name question lingered in the back of his mind as he took the clothes, making a face at them - drab. They didn't quite suit him either, short at the sleeves and narrow about the shoulders. But poor men and exiles lived at they could, he thought with surprising clarity. That, too, he knew in his dream - that he was both.

He'd called him something, hadn't he? The blue-eyed man. It was not a name, but it had called up emotion enough. An Ilyigan. There it was, that soaring pride ( ... )