[memshare] In Destiny's Service
May. 23rd, 2024 02:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
troublereductionWhen the woman called Golden Mirror ushers you to an ivory mansion you don't remember ever seeing before, you probably should have been more suspicious.
Instead, you are too drained, physically and emotionally, to question it. For that same reason, even though its decor is pleasantly luxurious and perfumed with the scent of fresh orchids, you have no real reaction besides dimly noticing these things.
Mirror leads you to a table in what you presume is the dining room, bids you to take a seat, then pushes a bowl of fresh fruit and nuts toward you before she prepares some tea. You don't bother to reach for the snacks.
"We can talk while we eat," she says as she sets the teapot and cups on the table.
You, however, couldn't care less about niceties at the moment. "What happened to me?" you ask, and it comes off more accusatory than is fair of you.
Mirror's expression is carefully neutral, her thoughts inscrutable to you. She doesn't respond immediately, as if evaluating how to answer you before she finally speaks, "You were Chosen by one of the Maidens. Venus, in your case. They are the goddesses of the stars, fate and destiny, overseeing different aspects of them. By receiving Venus' blessing, you are tied to those things, just like I and the others are."
Your eyebrows crease at the mention of the Maidens. To you, they're far-away figures you vaguely know about at best. Certainly less than you know the Dragons, and you were a terrible student in temple school. "So why can't anyone remember me?"
"Because…" An apologetic look briefly passes across Mirror's face. "Our fates are now hidden from the rest of the world. You felt it earlier, didn't you? The moment the world became blind to 'you'." And up until now, you didn't think you'd ever hate such phrasing, but now you do, through the numb feeling of being hollowed out.
A thought occurs to you, a rush of anxiety spiking, and before you can stop yourself you ask, "What about my sister?" (Who you haven't seen in two years by now, but—) "What about Path?" (Who you also haven't seen in two years by now, but—)
This time, the apologetic look isn't brief. If anything, you get the sense that Mirror is trying not to show too much in her green eyes. "They've forgotten you too," she says bluntly. No sugar-coating, no couching it in something else, no false hope.
Even so, you immediately retort, "But they can't. T-they shouldn't." You can barely accept that the people you've known over the past two years have forgotten you within the span of moments. The idea that your most cherished ones, your family who've known you for almost your whole life no longer remember you is too much. "I grew up with them, they can't."
"They can," Mirror says firmly, like she can't afford to let you walk away with any false notions. "They remember the things you did in their lives but not you. Like how your colleagues and that boy have already assigned your actions to someone else. Perhaps they think another child lived with them in the shrine, or that one of the village children kept visiting them. But they don't remember you." She bites her lower lip, then stops. "I'm sorry."
…
Your life is already lying in shattered pieces around you, so you didn't think it could get worse. This feels like the final nails in the coffin, those shattered pieces being stepped on and crushed further.
You keep staring down at the table and untouched fruit, unable to face Mirror. It almost feels like a sick joke, but you remember the dizzying high of Venus' blessing and the low of cold reality washing over you all too clearly.
"Why me?" You don't understand. What is it about you that made a Maiden Choose you, uproot you? If you're to be left with nothing at all, then why?
Mirror doesn't say anything for a long moment, and you almost think she won't answer you. Finally, she says, "I won't claim to know Venus' thoughts. No one knows what the Maidens think. So I will tell you what I think as a senior: because you love deeply, even now, and will keep loving despite everything."
Is she mocking you? How can she say that when… "Everyone I love can't remember me." And you're ashamed of how your voice cracks, vulnerable.
"Yet you still love despite that loss, or you wouldn't look at me with such a face," she says. Her expression softens, sympathetic. "Because love endures, even with such horror behind you. You would understand the importance of bringing love and joy into this world."
…
What should you think about this? How can you keep loving something that has been lost to you forever? How can you love something that will inevitably be lost one day?
You feel yourself emptying, whatever little emotion you had nebulously draining as it all sinks in. Mirror lets you be for a while, seemingly understanding.
Then, she speaks up again, "Boy—" A pause, then verbal backspacing as she caught herself in the middle of a bad habit. "Moss." The mention of your name finally makes you look up, however slowly. "I am from Heaven's Bureau of Destiny. We are the ones who manage destiny, and ensure the world stays on track. And we…" She gestures to both herself and you. "Have been through the same thing. All of us in the bureau. Lives suddenly left behind, while the world moves on without us." Gently, unlike how she spoke earlier. "I am here…to let you know you are entitled to a position in the bureau, as one of the Chosen of Venus. The people in the Division of Serenity would understand your experience, especially. They are the ones who most understand serenity and love."
You don't say anything. Mirror lets you digest all this before continuing, "If you accept, you will be working with them. We will provide you with training, as well as whatever has been left for you by your predecessor. And, most importantly, a place for yourself after everything that has happened." She pours some tea for herself and slides over a cup towards you. "That said, you are not obliged to accept this, in which case you are free to go wherever you please in Creation, though someone from the bureau will contact you periodically. Ours is a standing offer that you can take at any time. You don't have to give me an answer tonight."
…Right now, you feel like you're standing in a pit.
Around you are the shattered remains of your life. Above you, you can see the starry night sky, beautiful and hateful. You could just stay in that pit and wait for the earth to swallow you, and you have half a mind to let it happen. There is no home left for you, and no dream to walk towards.
But then the same starry sky throws down a single silver spider's thread into the pit, a single lifeline. You could stay in there, and accept that you have nothing left, but you can't. It would mean accepting that your love has no meaning and that the love you've received throughout your life is meaningless too.
(Can you keep loving something that has been lost to you forever? Can you love something that will inevitably be lost one day? Yes. Yes. The answer must be yes. If it isn't, there will be nothing left of you. Love endures, because it must.)
So like a damned idiot, you take that lifeline.
"I'll join."
Instead, you are too drained, physically and emotionally, to question it. For that same reason, even though its decor is pleasantly luxurious and perfumed with the scent of fresh orchids, you have no real reaction besides dimly noticing these things.
Mirror leads you to a table in what you presume is the dining room, bids you to take a seat, then pushes a bowl of fresh fruit and nuts toward you before she prepares some tea. You don't bother to reach for the snacks.
"We can talk while we eat," she says as she sets the teapot and cups on the table.
You, however, couldn't care less about niceties at the moment. "What happened to me?" you ask, and it comes off more accusatory than is fair of you.
Mirror's expression is carefully neutral, her thoughts inscrutable to you. She doesn't respond immediately, as if evaluating how to answer you before she finally speaks, "You were Chosen by one of the Maidens. Venus, in your case. They are the goddesses of the stars, fate and destiny, overseeing different aspects of them. By receiving Venus' blessing, you are tied to those things, just like I and the others are."
Your eyebrows crease at the mention of the Maidens. To you, they're far-away figures you vaguely know about at best. Certainly less than you know the Dragons, and you were a terrible student in temple school. "So why can't anyone remember me?"
"Because…" An apologetic look briefly passes across Mirror's face. "Our fates are now hidden from the rest of the world. You felt it earlier, didn't you? The moment the world became blind to 'you'." And up until now, you didn't think you'd ever hate such phrasing, but now you do, through the numb feeling of being hollowed out.
A thought occurs to you, a rush of anxiety spiking, and before you can stop yourself you ask, "What about my sister?" (Who you haven't seen in two years by now, but—) "What about Path?" (Who you also haven't seen in two years by now, but—)
This time, the apologetic look isn't brief. If anything, you get the sense that Mirror is trying not to show too much in her green eyes. "They've forgotten you too," she says bluntly. No sugar-coating, no couching it in something else, no false hope.
Even so, you immediately retort, "But they can't. T-they shouldn't." You can barely accept that the people you've known over the past two years have forgotten you within the span of moments. The idea that your most cherished ones, your family who've known you for almost your whole life no longer remember you is too much. "I grew up with them, they can't."
"They can," Mirror says firmly, like she can't afford to let you walk away with any false notions. "They remember the things you did in their lives but not you. Like how your colleagues and that boy have already assigned your actions to someone else. Perhaps they think another child lived with them in the shrine, or that one of the village children kept visiting them. But they don't remember you." She bites her lower lip, then stops. "I'm sorry."
…
Your life is already lying in shattered pieces around you, so you didn't think it could get worse. This feels like the final nails in the coffin, those shattered pieces being stepped on and crushed further.
You keep staring down at the table and untouched fruit, unable to face Mirror. It almost feels like a sick joke, but you remember the dizzying high of Venus' blessing and the low of cold reality washing over you all too clearly.
"Why me?" You don't understand. What is it about you that made a Maiden Choose you, uproot you? If you're to be left with nothing at all, then why?
Mirror doesn't say anything for a long moment, and you almost think she won't answer you. Finally, she says, "I won't claim to know Venus' thoughts. No one knows what the Maidens think. So I will tell you what I think as a senior: because you love deeply, even now, and will keep loving despite everything."
Is she mocking you? How can she say that when… "Everyone I love can't remember me." And you're ashamed of how your voice cracks, vulnerable.
"Yet you still love despite that loss, or you wouldn't look at me with such a face," she says. Her expression softens, sympathetic. "Because love endures, even with such horror behind you. You would understand the importance of bringing love and joy into this world."
…
What should you think about this? How can you keep loving something that has been lost to you forever? How can you love something that will inevitably be lost one day?
You feel yourself emptying, whatever little emotion you had nebulously draining as it all sinks in. Mirror lets you be for a while, seemingly understanding.
Then, she speaks up again, "Boy—" A pause, then verbal backspacing as she caught herself in the middle of a bad habit. "Moss." The mention of your name finally makes you look up, however slowly. "I am from Heaven's Bureau of Destiny. We are the ones who manage destiny, and ensure the world stays on track. And we…" She gestures to both herself and you. "Have been through the same thing. All of us in the bureau. Lives suddenly left behind, while the world moves on without us." Gently, unlike how she spoke earlier. "I am here…to let you know you are entitled to a position in the bureau, as one of the Chosen of Venus. The people in the Division of Serenity would understand your experience, especially. They are the ones who most understand serenity and love."
You don't say anything. Mirror lets you digest all this before continuing, "If you accept, you will be working with them. We will provide you with training, as well as whatever has been left for you by your predecessor. And, most importantly, a place for yourself after everything that has happened." She pours some tea for herself and slides over a cup towards you. "That said, you are not obliged to accept this, in which case you are free to go wherever you please in Creation, though someone from the bureau will contact you periodically. Ours is a standing offer that you can take at any time. You don't have to give me an answer tonight."
…Right now, you feel like you're standing in a pit.
Around you are the shattered remains of your life. Above you, you can see the starry night sky, beautiful and hateful. You could just stay in that pit and wait for the earth to swallow you, and you have half a mind to let it happen. There is no home left for you, and no dream to walk towards.
But then the same starry sky throws down a single silver spider's thread into the pit, a single lifeline. You could stay in there, and accept that you have nothing left, but you can't. It would mean accepting that your love has no meaning and that the love you've received throughout your life is meaningless too.
(Can you keep loving something that has been lost to you forever? Can you love something that will inevitably be lost one day? Yes. Yes. The answer must be yes. If it isn't, there will be nothing left of you. Love endures, because it must.)
So like a damned idiot, you take that lifeline.
"I'll join."
