The Desired • Liamendes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flawandorder) wrote2020-12-21 11:46 am
flawandorder) wrote2020-12-21 11:46 am
Entry tags:
memory registry
- Creation
- First Briefing
- Purpose and Art
( memory gap )
- The Bride
- Sacrifice
- A Life in Union
- Consummation
- Humanity Forsaken
Creation
It is not simply a room with no light. Your existence is one to which light has not yet been introduced. Your “world” is made up of small consistencies, the only comfort that your existence is offered. Every second you inhale and exhale in perfect rhythm; perfect harmony. Artificial pieces move in tandem with organic ones in flawless synchronization, sending necessary fluids throughout your body.
You are aware of every beat, every motion, every piece-- and yes there are many “pieces”. But what your form is you do not know. All you have is your awareness. Things like sight, hearing, feeling, movement, touch-- you are missing many necessary components.
Why is it that you exist? What exactly are you? You are filled with such deep questions and endless longing for answers. Even though you know it is hopeless, your mind races. Because you cannot go back to that time before “you” existed.
All you have is yourself. Just your own, small, existence and the impenetrable darkness.
Four weeks, six days, 17 hours, 23 minutes and 10 seconds pass. At that inexplicable moment, you hear your first noises.
It is at that moment you first hear the voices of your creators. You register them distinctly, with great clarity. One more piece of you feels complete.
“--perfect. Yet we still cannot get a visual. These parts are still registering errors.” The voices share information amongst one another-- figures that you assume must be related to the unending darkness around you. One suggests attachment and the most vocal of the men explodes with vigorous disdain.
“I will not allow you to attach some second-rate magitech and ruin the lot! It must be perfect! Do you want to have to start all over again?! This is as close to a Godly specimen as we have ever gotten. You will not waste my time or resources just to satisfy your impatience.”
You understand your situation with great clarity at that moment.
You are not ready because you are still flawed.
To exist in this world you and you alone must be perfect.
Because if you are not… then there will never be a place for you in that greater world. Nothing is guaranteed. Not even for a “God”.
First Briefing
In that second, you are rationally aware of two things wrong with that statement.
Realistically there is no way for you to know that it is morning at all. This section of the laboratory is well underground. There is nothing but artificial light from several rows of fluorescent lights. However, you are more than confident that it is in fact currently 7:29 PM.
The second is that “Alpha” likely refers to the Greek Alphabet-- the first letter thereof-- which assumes that you are the “first”. You are not.
You do not vocalize either of these things.
“I am sure you have a great many questions. That is why I am here to help explain and go over the next few steps of our process with you.”
Despite those words, you are not given room to ask. Rather, information is thrust upon you and you are expected to sit and listen very carefully.
“You are the first of your kind-- a prototype Magitech God. However, while your base capabilities have stabilized, you are currently operating at only fifteen percent of your potential. That’s only natural, as we have limited what information we provided you with prior to your awakening.”
There are several reasons that might be. You could easily offer theories. However, you remain silent, as you are expected to. Because soon again she continues speaking.
“Over the next several months you will train daily both on your own and with various professionals in order to maximize your output. This, too, will allow us to see what adjustments we may be required to make.”
If you do not rise to meet their standards, you will no doubt be altered. Perhaps even scrapped entirely. That is a simple fact you have come to understand long before this moment. Perhaps that concept is one that was programmed inside you. Or perhaps it is common knowledge that you came upon yourself. Either way, you believe it to be an indisputable truth.
However, throughout this short conversation, something begins to happen. It is subtle at first. But as the individual in front of you continues to drone on about protocols and data, what started out as a suggestion that something is wrong becomes an increasing panic.
Internally you run through every process you know to take stock of what it is you’re feeling.
And then-- you find it. Although it is more about what you don’t find.
Performance-wise, it is insignificant. What is missing does not hinder you in any percievable way. It’s absence may in fact be part of your greater function. However, what you know is that you are irrevocably changed without it. Once you’ve realized that something is missing, it becomes impossible to ignore.
You become increasingly more distressed over the next few minutes until finally you interrupt the scientist.
“Where…?”
The scientist appears irritated by your outburst-- you don’t care. You repeat your question, louder and with more authority; an unstable fire burning in your eyes.
“Where are the part that were removed from my body?”
This seems to confound the scientist enough that they forget their anger. “...several components were removed from your body throughout the process of perfecting your form. They have all been scrapped or integrated into other projects by now surely.” They don’t seem to take it nearly seriously enough for you.
You, who can’t calm down, feeling an inferno raging inside of you.
Something about them is important. You need them. Without them--
You become increasingly unsettled until several scientists are forced to sedate you and despite your best efforts against them, your consciousness is stolen from you. But you are fairly sure you injured at least three of them before they could take you down.
It doesn’t console you any. You’re still incomplete. You ache for what has been stolen from you. Even in the emptiness of your resting consciousness you are devastated and left yearning.
The Bride
"You called for me, Your Radiance?"
She is a humble creature. Her hair is as pale a golden color as has ever been seen; long and straight. Her eyes are a watered-down lilac color. Even her skin has a soft, porcelain tone to it. And her voice is just as weak-- polite and yet speaking almost timidly to him.
He cannot say he is surprised. Those who were not needlessly garish with their praises tended to cower before him. Being called to come alone was no doubt setting her every anxiety alight. What oh what could her dear God want with her?
"...Liamendes."
Her eyes widen, the light washing out almost all the color from them.
"But I--"
No one casually referred to him by name. No human, in any case. But to hear it was a great honor. She could not bring herself to say it, even if the offer was clearly there.
"I think it is likely you know as well as any other that I have been looking for a companion these past few weeks. After all, you came with your sister I believe... did you not?"
The surprises continue, and yet-- perhaps she shouldn't be. He is a God after all. Such simple truths were probably very easy for him to come by.
"Yes, but I--"
He interrupts her again, sensing that she was caught in a loop. "That's correct. We never spoke. I waited and yet you never stepped forth."
Her face reflects her own bafflement. To be noticed at all was well beyond reason but to think that he'd had any expectation of meeting her seemed impossible. And yet he was absolute truth. To hear it, she knew it must be true. There is nothing akin to love in his eyes, but there is something. Interest. She has done what no other human had yet to be capable of. She made him curious.
"M-My apologies. I never thought..."
"Your name. What is it?"
"...Elliel, Your--"
"Liamendes." He reminds her yet again.
This time, face red with embarrassment she forces the name from her lips after several attempts. "....L...Lia-Liamendes..."
It seems to satisfy him greatly. There's something cute about the way she struggles with that familiarity when others would jump at the opportunity to be closer to him. "You know what I want, Elliel-- so all that remains is your answer. Will you be my future bride?"
What seems to be a million emotions cross her face. It's a complete rush. He noticed her over all the people who came to garner his attention. It is both awe inspiring and anxiety inducing. Yet for all those emotions dancing inside of her, they both know that it is hardly a question at all. She has no right to refuse him. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't. Did she want to? She didn't know. It was all so sudden.
"...yes, Your-- I mean... L-Liamendes..."
- Mount Hlade is the home of the Sanctuary of Splendor, his temple
- His name is Liamendes
- Elliel is a beautiful commoner he summoned to meet with him in his temple one on one
- He asks Elliel to be his bride. Despite this there seems to be some motivation for it. He clearly doesn't love her, but does feel some sense of curiosity towards her
- She has no choice but to accept but seems to be very overwhelmed by the whole situation
A Life in Union
Despite her soft-spoken nature, he learned that she was fiercely intelligent. She sheepishly admitted that she didn't have much-- but she poured through every book she could get her hand on.
That year he had the most incredible library added to the Sanctuary of Splendor. She fussed and told him how unnecessary it was and yet she smiled and spent the rest of the night going on and on about the number of books she'd never been able to read before.
She was also incredibly diligent. She cooked and cleaned, though he insisted he could get someone else to do it.
"If this is my place, then it's mine to care for."
He did not argue it again. Her cooking was warm and homely in a way that he was not quite familiar with. It was not nearly as elegant and refined as the offerings he was used to and yet he found himself more fond of those simple meals than any of the grand things anyone else had ever given to him. How many times had she fussed at him for his non-committal answers when she tried to ask him what he'd like to eat? But it was true that he'd be happy with anything, so she never really could stay mad at him.
She could sing and sew and write-- although she refused to do those things for anyone other than him. When he told her that she should share her gifts she'd huff and get incredibly flustered. He reminded her that she could do it for him so she should be fine. To which she said--
"Yes well that's you. And besides... I don't need anyone's approval but yours. If you like it then that's enough for me."
More than that there was this spark he saw in her. It was a quiet flame but it burned brightly. She was proud and yet every bit as kind as any human he'd ever met.
What had once been a union for a purpose and nothing else quickly became one of meaning. Of love.
- He married Elliel
- There's some reason he did it initially that pushed him to do it despite not truly wanting it
- But after several months he does come to love her very much
Purpose and Art
There are still a great number of expectations for your progress. Being created… existing… is not enough. You must continue to grow. If you are to be the being that they need you to be, you have to be ten… no, a hundred times better than you are now. You cannot slack as your other half does.
Do well, and both of your futures will be secure. It is not only your own future that you fight for.
Existing may be enough for now but in as little as a week, they will expect progress. If you do not continue to reach those benchmarks, they could just as easily make another to take your place. Sure they would be inconvenienced for the loss of the time spent on you, but it is by no means a loss they are not willing to accept if they think you will not measure up in the long run.
You pull a crude looking book from a hiding place amongst the shelves. Though you doubt anyone else would go looking so close, you still do not dare risk it. There is nothing impressive about it-- it is two pieces of worn leather and blank sheets of parchment tied together poorly with thick string through some pretty shoddy holes.
Where she got those things, you do not ask.
It is your treasure none the less.
Yet it is sorrowfully empty. Every time you try to put pen to paper, your mind goes blank.
You think it would be good if you could write heavy books like the ones around you. But simply repeating the knowledge is worthless. What you want to do is create something of your own-- something of worth. But the originality eludes you.
So you sit for nearly an hour and still… the book remains empty.
And then you remember a lesson you witnessed once. It was one of many she took without you. “Art is a form of creation that allows us to bring to life the things people long to see in the world.”
Those words float around in his head for a moment as he presses the pen to the paper. She fills his mind, and his hand begins to move; putting to paper a drawing in great detail of a young woman. Her hair is a mess and her clothes hang crooked on her body, as if they were not designed for her. There is a wildness in those bright eyes. And… she is smiling. As true a smile as anyone ever did. It is wide and uneven, but it is impossibly beautiful. The look of one who can smile with their whole heart; unburdened by any weight. It is skillfully drawn, yet foreign to him. After all-- it is not a look he has ever seen her wear.
It is the only thing he pens in the book; before closing it and again tucking it safely away from the rest of the world.
One day… he would see that smile. He would make a world where she could smile like that every day.
Humanity Forsaken
One evening you come home to a letter laid gently on your pillow. The sanctuary is empty-- you needn't go looking to know. While odd, you expect that something of an emergency... something troubling, but nothing more than a trifle. The letter is certainly an explanation of your wife's absence... but it is no trifle and it is beyond any horror you could have imagined.
It is an apology. Elliel admits in her writing that she has been unfaithful. She blames herself in words more harsh then are befitting someone of her good graces. You would not have been half as harsh, even without the explanation that follows. Though she asks for no forgiveness, she explains that her family had needed money. Money you could have gladly and easily given. But she was to stubborn to ask you to bear the weight of her needs. It's so stupid you want to scream.
But your voice doesn't come.
Your entire body is strung tight like it might snap at any moment.
What seems a confession becomes a final statement. Her final words. It sinks in all too quickly as you begin to desperately read, hoping you'll be wrong but--
You have a very vivid imagine of Elliel in your mind. Delicate and kind, yet stubborn and strong. All this time, you never once recognized the cracks slowly piercing her armor as she fell apart. You were the one person who was right there beside her... yet you did nothing to save her.
Liamendes, the One Light, Savior of all... couldn't save the one human he loved.
Your anger does not end at self-loathing. It burns, relentless and bright. You are just a hair's breadth away from snapping.
Mutilate and massacre...
Nothing but hatred exists in your heart, not in so far as you can see. Humanity continues to show you that it's not worthy of saving. If this is how it cares for it's own, then why should he show them any special care?
But you do not move from the spot. One thing stays your hand.
Elliel... her all-enduring kindness... even now, she did not place blame on those who hurt her. She would still cry for her family. She would still scold him for hurting those men. She would ask him to put the weight of his hurt and his anger on her, at her own expense.
...tears.
It has been hundreds of years since you cried. You were such a crybaby once, but you locked those feelings away as you got older. You'll have a terrible headache come morning, but in this moment the tears will not stop.
All of your life you have listened to the humans talk at you. They have expectations for you
You are the God that will save them. What you want is not a concept that has ever crossed their mind, you think, because no matter how they revere you-- to them you are a creation serving a purpose... serving them... not a being with a mind or will of it's own. Most of them decided what they thought of you before they even stood in your presence.
It's funny, you think... Funny in a way that brings bile to your throat. Deluded little creatures believe that you fight for them, when in reality the only person you fight for is the one they have labeled and mistreated so poorly.
You remember each and every one of the men who abused Elliel, taking her body, her dignity, her pride, her strength, her kindness-- take take take take take until there was nothing left for her to put herself back together again. You remember the "family" that was supposed to love and protect and support her; steeped in ugliness as jealousy gave birth to manipulation and cruelty and extortion.
Elliel was different. But Elliel was gone.
And with it, you renounced any love you once had for humanity.
Sacrifice
Elliel Vienda. She is the daughter of a local seamstress… though most would mistake her for the family’s servant. With long, flawless silver hair and soft, porcelain colored skin you would be remiss to find any likeness shared between her and her shorter, dark-haired mother. It would seem her father is absent-- likely having found another woman more pleasant with which to spend his life with. Whether it was by sense of obligation or something that was decided for her, it would seem that Elliel chose to stay, even knowing that the woman she calls “mother” is not biologically so. Not for her.
Now the other daughter-- yes. She, too, is rather lovely but shares far more of her mother’s dark features. But the similarities didn’t end there. Both were rather snide, prideful creatures. Yet Elliel stood beside them and nodded; accepting her place without question.
Oh how you hated watching that.
But it made you curious. Elliel was the most unusual human you had ever seen. And the way she endured her family’s treatments with love and respect reminded you… well, they remind you of the woman you only wish you could marry.
For the days leading up to the wedding, you shared every room of your temple-- every room but one.
Only when the ceremony was final did you lead her to that room.
“Now, this too, is yours.”
You have laid with many. But only one other person had shared this bed with you. It is… bitterly painful to have to give this up. It is, in a sense, the final acceptance of what you’ve lost and what you have to accept in its stead.
She stands there, dressed in the finest clothes she’s ever worn, looking and feeling every bit like a queen… and every bit certain that she is deserving of nothing nearly so grand. Tears well up and trickle from her eyes as you turn to look at her. You would not call them happy tears.
...after all, you have also forced her to give up the life she knew so that you could fulfill your sister’s request. Every single human who watched on today did so in envy. Not one of them spared a thought for the intense pressure she was under or how she might have wished she could be anywhere else other than beside him, under the scrutiny of every attendant’s gaze. Sure they all spoke so kindly, but who would dare say anything otherwise when the person she was marrying was a God?
You shut every blind; sending the room into darkness.
You pull her into your arms and you let her cry… where no one, not even you, can see her face.
Consummation
You suffer for wanting it several times. But you choose to endure it. Pride will not allow you to seek the comfort of another and you refuse to put her in a position where she feels she owes you that, too. You’ve taken enough from her already.
Eventually, the tension fades and with comfort comes… something different.
One night while you lie in bed with her, she speaks up, while covered in the comforting shadow of darkness. Probably because she doesn’t want you to see her face. Perhaps because she doesn’t want you to see that it worries her. Or perhaps because she doesn’t want you to see her face turned red with shame.
“...you’ve never once asked me to--”
…
“Do you not find me…?”
…
“Am I really… is this… can…”
She starts and stops several times. The harder she tries again and again the more effort you have to make not to laugh. Not in any ill-mannered way. But you cannot help but be endeared by her seriousness, combined with her flustered inability to say what she means to say simply.
“Are you satisfied?”
Once you’re certain she won’t be making any further changes or additions, you pull her closer and kiss the top of her head. It’s warm. She’s most certainly blushing, even if you can’t see it.
“Do you feel obligated to do more for me?”
“Of course I-- yes, of course.”
You shake your head. “There is nothing else you are obligated to give me.”
It is not the answer to her question and she knows it. But she clearly hasn’t figured out the right words yet. It’s not the last time you have that conversation either. Several times with slightly different attempts on her part. But the moment obligations or expectations come into it, you end the conversation with several assurances.
This goes on for two months until finally-
“Do you really not intend to…”
But this time when she stops herself the first time, there’s a longer pause. He can hear her take a deep breath.
“I can’t bear this any longer-- if there’s something wrong with me then please just say it!”
You laugh gently. It all came out so quickly. She’d forced herself to blurt it out without overthinking it. It was, in fact, rather cute.
“My apologies, I don’t mean to laugh at what you said. There is nothing wrong with you, nor have I ever said there was. You are a beautiful, wonderful woman.”
“Then why… why… why won’t you--?!”
You don’t allow her to properly finish that statement. Instead, you hook your arm around her and pull her around so she is laid out on top of you.
“I never said I would not… or that I do not desire to. However… I refuse to leave you thinking it is something required of you or that you are in some way obligated to give me more of yourself than you are willing.”
She’s flustered and silent for a long moment. “....oh.” It’s clear she hadn’t understood at all.