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firstofthefallen) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mylittlejamjar2014-09-13 09:11 pm
firstofthefallen) wrote in mylittlejamjar2014-09-13 09:11 pm
-3- [Visual; backdated to the night of the 12th]
Hello.
[There is a smiling white, blonde-maned earth pony on the network, looking pleased as punch to be there. Perhaps he simply didn't think he'd get the chance before. Or perhaps he just loves attention.]
At another's behest, I have a story to tell you all. It is a story that will have great meaning to quite a few of you; to others, perhaps it will mean nothing, but I think you'd benefit hearing all the same.
It's a story of light and darkness. Of people. And of Shadows.
To know this story, you need not know of the world that was crushed under the fire and thunder of Thor's Hammer, but know simply that it existed. And know that in some time and place, that very same world was not torn apart, but rather tore itself away from destiny, and away from the gods and monsters that used to watch it. Separated now from those beings of power that used to guide them, man gave power to something else: it's subconscious. And in its subconscious arose two new beings.
The first of these was named Nyarlathotep, the Bloody Tongue, the Crawling Chaos - though he brings great shame to the word. Nyarlathotep was the culmination of what was worst in mankind - every bit of misplaced hate, every self-destructive intent, found its expression in the elder god Nyarlathotep. And because of what it saw mankind as, Nyarlathotep wished to drag man down, to reduce all to nothingness. And so-
{The blonde haired man extends its hooves out in front of it, and a pool of even deeper darkness forms in them. Small tentacles reach from the pool, grasping and coiling out into the air.]
Nyarlathotep created the Shadow, the device he'd use to kill mankind. And more importantly-
[The little writhing mass shudders for a moment, and then several eyes open on it, all of them glowing yellow.]
Nyarlathotep was the Shadow, and all who were Shadows were Nyarlathotep, bending and puppets to its will.
And yet, it makes no sense for Shadow to exist where there is not light, and the light in this story, too, has a name. It's name was Philemon.
[The pool of darkness disappears, and the blonde young man brings his hooves in front of him in the shape of a small X, though even then somehow he manages to make the very clear shape of a butterfly, its wings flapping.]
And if Nyarlathotep was all that was wrong and weak with mankind, Philemon saw what was beautiful and had potential in mankind, and sought to make that grow. The two, then, began a game to see what would become of mankind and, in part, of themselves: Philemon bet that mankind would grow and prosper, and that even the nature of the Shadow could be changed. Nyarlathotep's bet was that mankind would drive itself into destruction, and that such destruction was inevitable.
The games were often very much alike. Nyarlathotep would try and poison man with the Shadow. Philemon, in return, would find mortals worthy to play against Nyarlathotep and who could oppose him. Nyarlathotep would have the Shadow take the forms of these mortals and demonstrate their worst traits to try and beguile them, and each time the worthy mortals would banish their Shadows. Nyarlathotep would have the Shadow take the forms of demons and gods of the previous world to attack the mortals, and Philemon would teach the mortals how to have these gods and demons reforged into forms the mortals might wield, and demonstrate their own potential.
These forms were called Persona, and they were forged for mortals by Philemon's premier assistant, Igor.
The games would go on and on with different levels of intensity until the inevitable end came. Nyarlathotep, having mistaken an act of hope for an act of desperation, allowed himself to be trapped into a road leading to his own destruction. He was slain by a group of Persona wielders, this death ending with the disassociation of his personality and the folding back into the Shadow to try and heal. Since his death, the Shadow has only been able to take abstract forms, somewhat brutish forms, and none able to communicate as the earlier ones did.
For those of you who fought the Shadow recently, know that this is why they are so basic, for their 'mind' is, in general, dead.
But with Nyarlathotep's death also came Philemon's own need to regress and recoup. Having won his game, Philemon faded into the background of the world as an observer, leaving the Velvet Room, and any need for further defense against the Shadow, to his assistant Igor. Alongside his victory in showing the progress humanity could make, Philemon had achieved another condition: those parts of Nyarlathotep that might resurface in the Shadow as thinking beings, Nyarlathotep's 'heirs', one might say, were to be given to Igor to care for and watch over in the hopes of teaching them empathy towards humans in order to further disassociate Nyarlathotep from himself.
So far, the experiment has been a success beyond belief, and of the current 'heirs' I know three: the twins Elizabeth and Theodore, and their older 'sibling', Margaret.
Since Nyarlathotep's death, the Shadow has been a dumb, wandering things, being taken advantage of and used by other gods long since thought gone from the world, and these gods to were defeated by worthy mortals, many of whom are here now. But aside from the three heirs, the Shadow has become a simple weapon.
With one exception.
One piece of the Shadow managed to become self-denying, and in part, earn humanity.
Tell me. What does that say, when that which was to be mankind's worst and its destruction might manage to deny what it was meant to be and be a man itself?
I believe it's worth thinking on, especially in these times.
[There is a smiling white, blonde-maned earth pony on the network, looking pleased as punch to be there. Perhaps he simply didn't think he'd get the chance before. Or perhaps he just loves attention.]
At another's behest, I have a story to tell you all. It is a story that will have great meaning to quite a few of you; to others, perhaps it will mean nothing, but I think you'd benefit hearing all the same.
It's a story of light and darkness. Of people. And of Shadows.
To know this story, you need not know of the world that was crushed under the fire and thunder of Thor's Hammer, but know simply that it existed. And know that in some time and place, that very same world was not torn apart, but rather tore itself away from destiny, and away from the gods and monsters that used to watch it. Separated now from those beings of power that used to guide them, man gave power to something else: it's subconscious. And in its subconscious arose two new beings.
The first of these was named Nyarlathotep, the Bloody Tongue, the Crawling Chaos - though he brings great shame to the word. Nyarlathotep was the culmination of what was worst in mankind - every bit of misplaced hate, every self-destructive intent, found its expression in the elder god Nyarlathotep. And because of what it saw mankind as, Nyarlathotep wished to drag man down, to reduce all to nothingness. And so-
{The blonde haired man extends its hooves out in front of it, and a pool of even deeper darkness forms in them. Small tentacles reach from the pool, grasping and coiling out into the air.]
Nyarlathotep created the Shadow, the device he'd use to kill mankind. And more importantly-
[The little writhing mass shudders for a moment, and then several eyes open on it, all of them glowing yellow.]
Nyarlathotep was the Shadow, and all who were Shadows were Nyarlathotep, bending and puppets to its will.
And yet, it makes no sense for Shadow to exist where there is not light, and the light in this story, too, has a name. It's name was Philemon.
[The pool of darkness disappears, and the blonde young man brings his hooves in front of him in the shape of a small X, though even then somehow he manages to make the very clear shape of a butterfly, its wings flapping.]
And if Nyarlathotep was all that was wrong and weak with mankind, Philemon saw what was beautiful and had potential in mankind, and sought to make that grow. The two, then, began a game to see what would become of mankind and, in part, of themselves: Philemon bet that mankind would grow and prosper, and that even the nature of the Shadow could be changed. Nyarlathotep's bet was that mankind would drive itself into destruction, and that such destruction was inevitable.
The games were often very much alike. Nyarlathotep would try and poison man with the Shadow. Philemon, in return, would find mortals worthy to play against Nyarlathotep and who could oppose him. Nyarlathotep would have the Shadow take the forms of these mortals and demonstrate their worst traits to try and beguile them, and each time the worthy mortals would banish their Shadows. Nyarlathotep would have the Shadow take the forms of demons and gods of the previous world to attack the mortals, and Philemon would teach the mortals how to have these gods and demons reforged into forms the mortals might wield, and demonstrate their own potential.
These forms were called Persona, and they were forged for mortals by Philemon's premier assistant, Igor.
The games would go on and on with different levels of intensity until the inevitable end came. Nyarlathotep, having mistaken an act of hope for an act of desperation, allowed himself to be trapped into a road leading to his own destruction. He was slain by a group of Persona wielders, this death ending with the disassociation of his personality and the folding back into the Shadow to try and heal. Since his death, the Shadow has only been able to take abstract forms, somewhat brutish forms, and none able to communicate as the earlier ones did.
For those of you who fought the Shadow recently, know that this is why they are so basic, for their 'mind' is, in general, dead.
But with Nyarlathotep's death also came Philemon's own need to regress and recoup. Having won his game, Philemon faded into the background of the world as an observer, leaving the Velvet Room, and any need for further defense against the Shadow, to his assistant Igor. Alongside his victory in showing the progress humanity could make, Philemon had achieved another condition: those parts of Nyarlathotep that might resurface in the Shadow as thinking beings, Nyarlathotep's 'heirs', one might say, were to be given to Igor to care for and watch over in the hopes of teaching them empathy towards humans in order to further disassociate Nyarlathotep from himself.
So far, the experiment has been a success beyond belief, and of the current 'heirs' I know three: the twins Elizabeth and Theodore, and their older 'sibling', Margaret.
Since Nyarlathotep's death, the Shadow has been a dumb, wandering things, being taken advantage of and used by other gods long since thought gone from the world, and these gods to were defeated by worthy mortals, many of whom are here now. But aside from the three heirs, the Shadow has become a simple weapon.
With one exception.
One piece of the Shadow managed to become self-denying, and in part, earn humanity.
Tell me. What does that say, when that which was to be mankind's worst and its destruction might manage to deny what it was meant to be and be a man itself?
I believe it's worth thinking on, especially in these times.
[visual]
Not even deep down, when you think and are alone?
[visual]
Well...maybe a little. She thinks I'm kinda annoying, and I think she can be kinda mean sometimes.
Fluttershy's not our master, though. She's our partner.
[visual]
That sounds much like a master to me.
[visual]
We work with her. It's different.
Re: [visual]
Does that not bother you?
[visual]
Not really. That's how we were made. Lots of Digimon are made with a certain partner in mind, so that partner is special to us.
There are a lot of Digimon that wished they had a partner. I'm one of the lucky ones.
[visual]
It was unbearable.
You're either very stoic or very naive.
[visual]
You didn't like who you were made for?
[visual]
I love him once. But came to hate him as time went on.
[visual]
Oh...
Don't you get lonely?
Re: [visual]
No.
I have no need for others.
[visual]
Oh...that sounds kinda sad though.
Re: [visual]
I live for myself. I know myself.
I need not live for any other, nor need any other for happiness.
I have found contentment.
[visual]
I dunno..."Content" doesn't always mean "happy", does it? I mean, they're kinda the same, but....content kinda sounds like you're just settling.
[visual]
[The response is quick. You are beginning to get on its nerves, little one.]
There is no one road to happiness. I know mine, just as you know yours.
[visual]
Well, yeah, I know...but even you were kinda saying, what we think makes us happy might not be.
[visual]
Then why does he keep doing it.
Lucifer just stares at the little creature for a few seconds before responding once more.]
I know. I didn't always.
But I do now.
[visual]
Well...if you say so. I still kinda hope you get friends anyway.
[visual]
Lucifer will be rolling the scroll shut now. Away, little one. You confuse him.]