fatespoken | [ fifty ] | partial video

[ fifty ] | partial video

[ private | not hackable ]

Fortuity must be Pevensie's favored companion. If that's not the case, then what else could explain it? The degree of memory loss was mere luck, increase the variable even 5%, even 1 x 10^-3, and the result could have been different. A fucking masterpiece of a catastrophe if it wasn't one already. Peter Pevenise, High King and Invalid with his mind wrought to pieces. He could have been be an infant in the body of a man. Or even a mind of silence in place of thought.

It was an accident.

An accident by paroxysm causing an accident, mended by an accident; and somehow all these accidents came together and righted themselves like fucking providence. I only got out of it as consequence of his luck. If he hadn't had remembered, if something in the cause hadn't snapped, then effects could have been interminable. I mean, if I had fixed it-- if I had really tried to fix it, what would have happened? It's like asking the blind to color within the lines. Or someone struggling with crayons to paint a Monet. Inevitably, I would have made it worse if I had tried it with more than an ounce. And I suppose, Caspian would have come after to me in the fashion of his age, and you can fucking bet a sword will hurt whether 300 BC or 2009 AD.

~~I wouldn't want to-~~

Maybe Pevensie's one of those with their futures determined, their history written upon conception. It was necessary that he remember regardless of the predicament, but that's spoken in alignment with my world. Who knows what orders the universe of Narnia. It was a damn Children's book. ~~Even if Pevenise is hardly a child himself. None of them are.~~

Maybe it was all a matter of will. Of wanting to remember that badly. Could have been pixie dust and unicorn horns even. But it's all fixed and over with. Fixed like the last time. I've settled my debts; however, I won't apologize for what was an accident.

[/private]

[ In the shift from private to pubic post, the video screen accidentally snaps on to display a single hand. A hand coated and streaked in bright red up to the start of the wrist, and that's the only sight you get. The rest of his body is out of the camera's eye. ]

For a bunch of deities, you'd think they would have had the mind to compose their own judgment. It should be habit by now, given all the curses— given their usual fucking ego. Except we get facsimile out of the Old Testament when they could have chosen something less hackneyed. How about releasing Xenu from his mountain prison? Men torn apart by lunatic women? Collectively strangled by the arms of the FSM? At least those are marginally interesting.

[ a pause here as he realizes that the video is on, quickly shutting it off. ]

I guess it shows that gods with supposed infinite power don't necessarily have the minds to match

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Amory.

[In a tone of voice that suggests she is bewildered by the video feed as well as by a majority of what he's just said. Not that she's going to admit to much of any of it. So you just get a name.]

Yes?

[ one day he will have to get Ginny a muggle dictionary. ]

Well, it's just that I'm trying to decide which part of all this to comment on. This Xenu bloke seems like a bloody good place to start, since I'm fairly certain you won't answer the other thing I'm thinking of.

Xenu's the dictator of the galactic confederacy.

Sincerest form of flattery. You're obviously familiar with the progression.

[Yes he saw that hand, Amory.]

I don't consider them the type to flatter. Then again, they've always seemed more inclined to plunder than create.

[ A second's pause. ]

Can't disbelieve something when you don't understand it.

Not entirely true; I wouldn't rate my comprehension of scientology.

It's a story writen by a science fiction author. There's nothing to believe.

But the bible isn't just a story? Funny, I thought I remembered you saying something to the opposite effect.

How are you?

Most of it is just a story. Not all of it. Why else are there similarities between creation myths? There's some thread of truth, even if it's not the actual god himself.

I'm fine.

Good to hear. Last time I saw you I'd have bet on the lamb in the fight.

Well, you know those lambs. Fucking vicious things.

On the bright side, if I take a kick from one I'll know where to go.

The hospital?

Can't do much for bruises.

Then it's a matter of waiting it out.

[ a pause ]

I was paying back a debt. That's all.

A debt to who? You didn't owe me anything.

That fist was intended for me, if you don't remember.

And it got you. I just took the back edge of the blow.

Yet, you took still took the remainder.

[ Another pause, followed by a light, exasperated sigh. ]

Just- Forget about it.

Guessing that's just finger paint probably isn't going to fly, is it?

Did it look like it was drying like blood?

[ and yet, his voice is spared from sarcasm.]

Honestly, I'm waiting for the cries of poor, dying lambs to start coming through.

It's your choice to sacrifice your safety for a poor dying lamb, but keep your judgments to yourself.

I'm not judging. Just making an observation. You have to do what you have to do.

You used the word poor, implying that beyond observation, you have certain opinions.

[ then a pause ]

I wasn't excessively cruel. Or cruel at all, actually.

I feel bad for them. Can't I do that?

Cruelty has nothing to do with it.

Look at it this way. Maybe they wouldn't have existed, if not for this purpose.

Them being here at all seems pretty convenient on its own.

[A beat.]

Maybe Xenu sent them.

Because seeing people battle with their conscience equates to quality entertainment?

[ follows that beat. ]

And upon killing them, their souls will attach themselves to our bodies and bring us despair.

[There is a pause here to be genuinely amused by that, but it's not an audible reaction.]

For the deities? Yeah, I'd say that's their normal line up.

[ If he wasn't an asshole, he'd totally be a comedian. ]

In some sense, we are puppets in a play for them.

I think we've got more free will than that. Yeah, we have to deal with curses and their consequences and stuff like this, but we can still change things. We've always had that option. We just... need to figure it out first.

Which was why I said, in a sense. But can we really change anything? What if we can't? You suppose any of us could retaliate against beings who can easily manifest buildings and objects overnight; who can change the way people think and appear on a large scale? There are plenty of powerful individuals here, none of them truly omnipotent.

Maybe it's possible, or maybe it's an impossibility.

You can change things. Nothing is ever definite. Nothing is ever written in stone.

Depends on your definition of definite.

You can't bring someone who's dead and buried to life, can you? You can't uncreate a world. You can't change the fact you've existed, even if you die. You can't destroy the cause of your own existence.

[The pause on her end drags out longer than she intends it. In Claire's experience, you can bring someone who's dead to life again.]

You don't know any time travelers, do you?

You return back in time to stop someone's conception, and so they don't exist? You can argue they existed in one reality. Still existed for a time, even if that time was altered.

[ Then again, he would be only partially surprised if someone in his world could do the time warp. ]

Maybe to you they existed, because you know they existed, but everything else has changed.

[SIGH. Seeing yourself as a baby will make anyone hate time travel.]

It's pointless. It's stupid. You can change things. You can stop things from happening even if all roads leading up to it say otherwise. That's what I'm trying to say.

And maybe that memory is enough. But yes, it is pointless. It is stupid.

[ What is he actually referring to? Questionable. In fact, everything he says could be questionable. What does Amory Felix truly believe? ]

Good luck on the optimism. All we can do is see if your idealism plays out as planned.

Right now everyone's being optimistic, in a way.

[Her voice trails at the end, like she's turned away to look at something.]

Good luck with your finger paints.

The only way to deal with potential death?

[ And then a bit of quiet of his own, enough time to cement his decision. ]

There's still blood left.

[SILENCE. Possibly stunned.]

I've... already got some. But, uh, thanks.

[ He was totally expecting that. ]

Welcome.

[ It's a brief remark, a softer stress compared to his usual full notes. And manners do exist for him. ]

Good luck, Amory.

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[ fifty ] | partial video

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