dualisnet | UN: presage

Given such uncertainty it is unsurprising many would be wary, even of a helping hand.

I do not. However, I can find it. I will not be long.

It’s on the south end of town, near the boardwalk. I’ll be there in an hour or so.

I’m Jack, by the way.

I will meet you then.

Murmur.

[Yes, that is a weird name, no he will not explain it further. He also won't explain how he finds the place so quickly, though she does help point him in the right direction to make the search significantly shorter. It'll give him time to see if the proprietor has tea. Alcohol isn't much use for immortals, after all.

And Murmur? Well, he doesn't look particularly special. Just a normal, perfectly average human, who might look especially at home in a library somewhere. Thanks in part to the clothing he managed to scrounge up raiding one of many now empty clothing stores. It wasn't like there was anyone to argue with him about it. Thankfully gloves weren't too hard to find. He prefers to not make his own life more difficult than necessary.]

[jack ran in hacker circles back home, and most of her contacts went by weird-ass names, so someone calling themself “murmur” doesn’t seem terribly strange to her. and really, this entire city sets a new bar for “strange” in jack’s book, but she’s adjusted just fine.

she arrives at the bar about ten minutes on the later side of “about an hour,” a petite mid-20s woman with long auburn hair and all-black clothing: ripped skinny jeans with holes in the knees; a shirt with an abstract geometric design printed in white, converted into a tank top; sleeveless denim vest covered in safety-pinned or sewn-on patches and enamel pins; well-worn boots. a large medusa head tattoo covers her left bicep, and a plain nautical star sits topside on her right wrist. four boldly inked words around her collar bones peek above the frayed neck of her shirt: NO GODS, NO MASTERS.]

You must be Murmur, [she says, sliding into the chair next to him without waiting for an invitation. it’s not a difficult guess; other than herself and the dark-haired woman behind the bar, he’s the only person here.]

[Excellent, Murmur was not fond of having people asking too many invasive questions about him, specifically. Especially immediately. He may, unlikely, but may open up very slightly after a fair amount of time had passed.

Murmur had been there for some time. Quietly sitting in his corner, watching out the window and enjoying some tea. While he was clearly waiting for someone he was not impatient, in fact he had an air about him as though he could have waited for many years and it wouldn't bother him. Something timeless, and unnervingly patient. If Nick had cared to wonder, that was.

While Jack looked very much like she belonged in the "neon Hell" as she put it, her fashion sense echoing the era perfectly, Murmur had somehow managed to seem wholly out of place even with local garb. A knitted vest over a collared long-sleeved shirt, slacks, and dress shoes. He should be in an office or a study, not a bar at the far edge of the city. The faintest hint of tattoos did however peek from beneath his collar, something that didn't quite jive with his rumpled scholar look. That, and the unnervingly vibrant green eyes. Piercing and cold.

He regards her with interest, offering a polite nod of greeting as she moves to join him.]

Indeed. [He studied her silently for a time, analyzing her with those venomous green eyes. Eventually he'd break away, turning his attention back out the window. Though there might have been the faintest hint of a knowing smirk as he did so. She was an interesting one.] And you are Jack. Would you care for a drink before we depart? Unless you are on a tight schedule.

[Is that a joke? It might be. It's hard to tell, he spoke very softly, and monotone.]

[he reminds her of the professor who taught a medieval women’s history class she took in college - a little awkward, but a well of hidden, fascinating knowledge if you could get him to talk, which was no easy feat. she studies him intently for a long moment, and she notes that there’s definitely something different about his eyes - something other than human. jack would know; her own blue eyes have a similar sharpness to them, frigid and lacking a certain vitality typically found in humans. it’s said that the eyes are windows to the soul, and jack lost hers many, many years ago, in the Devouring that brought her true nature out of the shadows and into the light.]

Got it in one, [she says, entirely straight-faced. jack hooks the toe of her boot under a nearby empty chair, pulls it toward her, and props her feet up, crossed at the ankles. she leans into the back of her main chair, fingers laced together and resting against her stomach.] My schedule’s wide open tonight. The only thing I had planned was finishing off a dungeon, and I can do that any time. You’re not in a hurry to see what’s hiding down in the tunnels?

[Indeed, hers did. Though that lack of a soul was the most fascinating part about her, not that she would know he was immediately aware. For his own part he never had one to begin with, and couldn't begin to truly fathom what it would be like to have it consumed. Curious as he was to know more, there were more pressing matters at hand. It was something he would put on the back burner for now, and keep an eye on her for an opening of potential discussion. It wasn't every day he met someone like her.]

I would certainly hope so. [It wasn't as though he'd invited anyone else for a visit, not that there were many to invite. As Jack settled in despite idle protests Murmur sipped his tea.]

It would be a shame to let good tea go to waste. Eager as I am, I have time. This will be a long night. What do you mean by a dungeon?

[Attempting to unravel the workings of unknown magic with little more than the remnants of what was left behind was going to be an all-consuming task. One he looked forward to, yes, but also one he knew he'd immediately become obsessed with. It was important to understand one's flaws.]

The nights here are always long, and full of terrors. [a faint smirk curls a corner of her mouth, a little joke to herself.] The type of dungeon I’m talking about is a video game thing, don’t worry about it. Actual torture isn’t really my thing - most of the time, anyway.

[is she kidding? we just don’t know.]

Well, if you’re not in a hurry, I’ll grab a beer. Oh, here -

[she reaches inside of her vest and produces a small bundle, then places it on the table in front of him. wrapped in a soft black cloth is a circle of black polished obsidian - the scrying mirror he’d asked for.]

Freshly cleansed. I don’t really use it, it’s not my usual method for divination. Maybe you can get better use out of it.

[she stands up and heads over to the bar, returning with a pint glass of beer in hand after a few minutes of friendly conversation with the bartender.]

I imagine so. [He responded back with a kind of knowing smile. Oh he does so enjoy a game of wordplay.] What is a 'video game'?

[He rose an eyebrow at her 'most of the time' comment, though his expression wasn't startled nor surprised, merely mildly curious. Torture was so common in his experience he was more surprised when it wasn't their thing, honestly. Kidding or no, he didn't seem too bothered.]

[As she moves away he reaches out with a gloved hand to delicately pick up the bundle, inspecting it with interest before unwrapping what is perhaps one of the nicest gifts he's ever received. A pristine piece of polished obsidian, perfect for his needs, and even cleansed beforehand! Though for good measure he would ensure to purge it thoroughly for use, his particular talents meant an unfortunate tendency to absorb interference.

While she's away he tugs off a glove, pressing a finger to the polished stone delicately to allow the smallest hint of of his magic to surge through it, a natural talent of his kind being the capability of cleansing and purging. With that complete he'd tug his glove back on and go back to admiring the gift with a kind of awed reverence.

After all, it was very rare to receive a gift from a mortal. Or a gift at all, for that matter.]

Thank you... truly. This is one of my preferred methods.

[For a moment that strange monotone of his dropped, a hint of genuine gratitude there, something that was even startling for him. But, well... such things have meaning, and meaning is never lost on Murmur.]

[she’s gonna have her job cut out for her with all the technosplaining she’s gotta do in this place, isn’t she. jack smiles faintly as she reclaims her chair and sets her drink down on the table.]

A video game is ... well, it’s hard to explain without a passing familiarity with computers. [she digs her phone out of another pocket inside her vest and gives the screen a few quick taps to bring up an app, a fighting game pitting two brightly costumed characters against each other. she turns the phone around to show him the screen.] They’re interactive computer programs, all different types, and you play them for fun. Some are about solving puzzles, some are about fighting monsters or other people, some are about telling a story by making choices that have varying outcomes for your character. This one’s a fighting game, so you play by using special moves to beat the other character up. The different movements that you make in touching the screen cause your character to make corresponding actions.

[jack sets the phone face up on the table between them, just in case murmur feels like trying the game. he’ll need to ditch the gloves, though - damn touchscreens are even more finicky here.]

Where I’m from, video games have advanced a lot, even just within my lifetime, and they can be really complex methods of storytelling. Of course, there’s something to be said for a mindless smash-and-grab game, too.

[she shrugs and takes a sip of her beer, and something in her own expression changes, softens slightly. jack isn’t used to being thanked for anything, ever, and she’s typically fine with that. when she does something like a no-strings favor or gives a gift, it’s purely because it’s something she wants to do, not because she wants a spotlight of recognition. she’s much more comfortable in the shadows anyway.]

You’re welcome. I’m glad I met someone who can use it - I picked it up in a back alley market when I first got here and my usual methods came up with zilch, but I didn’t have any luck with it, either. So it’s just been hanging out on my shelf since then. And it’s too pretty a piece not to be used.

[She really is. Fortunately Murmur wasn't resistant to absorbing new information, he was simply behind in human technological advancement. Had he more time to devote to exploring his new surroundings he'd certainly take a detour to learn more about all of the newer technology available. Unfortunately it seemed like they were running on limited time with the Head looming over them all.

Later, perhaps, once things smoothed out.]

Fascinating.

[He muttered, leaning over to inspect the screen, though once a cursory poke with a gloved hand reminded him he couldn't use these devices with gloves on he chose not to investigate further at this time. He was going to need to save his energy for a very long night ahead.]

They convey all that through this medium? Certainly appears to have potential from this demonstration. A far cry from the poets and plays of old.

[Like movies and books in one, with a bonus for interactivity and puzzles. He did enjoy a good puzzle. Might play with these video games on his own time later, while he was trying to wind down from the task ahead. One he expected would be a more daunting undertaking than it appeared from the surface.

Human ingenuity never failed to impress.]

[Perhaps she was, Murmur would have agreed with her sentiment. Even so, receiving a gift was likely as rare as her receiving gratitude. They could both be put out of their comfort zone for a few moments.]

There is a significant amount of interference here. Given what you've shown me about the tunnels I have a suspicion that things might be clearer down there. This mirror will, ideally, aid me in filtering out the worst of the noise.

[He was implying it was an innate skill but then again, Murmur wasn't sure if he was being especially clear. He did have a terrible habit of being vague by nature.]

Yeah, we’ve come a long way from the days of the rhapsodes.

[she almost-grins behind the glass, then takes a sip of the beer. the fact that murmur doesn’t remove his gloves to experiment with the phone is interesting, and jack wonders what the reason for that is - probably something he’s hiding, right? that’s usually why people wear gloves indoors, unless it’s due to a colder than preferred environmental temperature. not the most pressing question on jack’s mind, though - she hasn’t met many other magic-users here, so she’s interested to learn what he knows. and if he’s inclined to be vague, jack has no qualms about asking directly.]

So ... what’s your story? [she sets her glass down and retrieves her phone, slipping it back inside her vest pocket.] You’re good with divination but bad with technology - is where you’re from still mostly analog, or is that more of a personal aesthetic choice?

A shame. There was a certain quality in the oral traditions that was lost when moving to screen and recording.

[He sipped his tea idly, knowing full well that that was a very strange thing to say for a mortal creature. She's perceptive, he has no illusions that she'll miss that. Just like she hasn't missed most of his other tells so far.

Of course, direct or not, Murmur still intends to be vague. Testing the waters, so to speak. He does not yet fully understand the nature of her being, nor can he guarantee her trustworthiness in more sensitive matters. Treading cautiously is simply in his nature.]

My story? [He asked innocently enough. He made a thoughtful hum through his nose, briefly closing his eyes while he considered how best to answer this question.] The place that I hail from is rather separated from the modern world. However, I imagine that the Thresholding acted as a significant hindrance to technological advancement.

[yeah, that’s definitely weird. a little hipsterish, even, except they’re not talking about the sound quality of vinyl versus mp3, they’re talking about a profession from two and a half millennia ago. and yet he sounds like he knows from personal experience all the same. maybe he’s a historian? jack has a feeling the answer can’t be that simple.]

What happened with the Thresholding? I haven’t heard of it before.

[The oldest hipster she might ever meet. Perhaps if he watched the process of making movies he might enjoy them more. It was that separation of screen and person that sucked the life of enjoyment out of it for him. Granted what immortals found interesting and entertaining could be vastly different from mortals.]

If it happened on your world you would most certainly know. It was a catastrophic event. All manner of beings and creatures formerly believed to be mythological were suddenly, and violently, real. Humans found themselves spontaneously transforming across the world. I am certain you can imagine the chaos of a family member neighbor suddenly turning into a werewolf or vampire.

[hoo boy. if jack were just an ordinary mortal, she might find that idea horrifying, maybe even a little bit cool. but jack is far from ordinary, and she laughs into the next sip of her beer, though it’s not entirely mirthful.]

Yeah, I can imagine the normies would freak over finding out that monsters are real. Then, of course, the Heroes would feel the need to step up and put all the monsters in their place - six feet underground, unless they kept the corpses on display as trophies.

[she huffs quietly in disgust and shakes her head. goddamn heroes ruin so many lives and think they’re not only justified but good for doing so.]

That wouldn’t scare me, though. Vampires and werewolves and whatnot are already Kin for me and my kind.

Normies. [He repeated the word thoughtfully, mulling it over.] Succinct.

[He found he rather liked that word. As for her assessment he nodded.]

Indeed, as expected the retaliation from all sides would result in bloodshed and lives lost en masse. Hunters appeared, but the Thresholding was no singular event. From the first and onward all were then possessed of the potential to threshold. Typically around adolescence.

[He spoke of these things very clinically, as a historian would. No evident bias present in his tone. So disconnected one might have to wonder if he even counted himself among human kind.

Her admission gained his interest and he tilted his head in slight curiosity. Of course he knew she was no human, but he'd play the part of oblivious a while longer yet.]

Your kin, then you are not human yourself? How would you be classified?

Edited 2020-08-11 18:31 (UTC)

[yeah, no surprise at the bloodshed. history is full of it, everywhere - even in this city. unsurprising, but jack’s eyes narrow in disapproval all the same.

it’s only for a moment, though - murmur’s question is one she hasn’t needed to consider for a long time. she hums quietly, considering her thoughts.]

Yes and no. I was born human, but I had an awakening to my true nature when I was twelve years old - sort of like this Thresholding, from how you’ve described it. As for how I’m classified ... the simplest term would be “monster,” though that’s such a catch-all it’s basically useless. More specifically, my clan is called Eshmaki.

[her confession is given freely, without a hint of shame or pride. jack might as well be talking about the color of her hair or the city where she was born. it’s fact, nothing more. the only reason she would need to keep this a secret is if murmur were a hero, and she doesn’t get that vibe from him.]

What about you?

[Her reaction was understandable. The various wars, and slaughters, that waged after the first Thresholding was certainly immense. Heavy losses on all sides, and considering that they had all come from humans, well... One could only reason that the population only further divided and faltered. Man's inhumanity to Man has ever been great.

His attention snapped to her with interest. Something like a Thresholded, but not quite. Now for a change he felt slightly less out of his element.]

Monster is too broad a term, [He agreed.] I would like to learn more of the Eshmaki, if you are willing.

[Ever starving for knowledge, this one, and she was something entirely new. It wasn't often he had the pleasure of experiencing that. As for her question he considered quietly for a time, sipping his tea. She has been honest enough with him, and granted him a wonderful gift, he thinks she has earned the right to know at least the bare minimum.]

Mortals refer to my kind as angels, last I had heard. Celestial would be another accurate term.

[jack is a little surprised to realize she’s actually a bit pleased by the request.]

Sure, I don’t mind at all. You know, I think you might be the first to ask me about this. Most people don’t take me seriously if I mention being Eshmaki - they think I mean I’m a monster in a metaphorical way, or that I’m just making it up for attention, like I’m some kind of weird soulbonder or something.

[she shrugs.]

Anyway, Eshmaki are one of several families of the Dark Mother’s children. The Dark Mother has had many names throughout history and mythology around the world - some call her Tiamat, or Lilith, or Echidna - but she is the mother of all monsters, and her children teach her wisdom through fear - nightmares, specifically. Eshmaki are also called Lurkers, and the nightmares we bring center on Darkness - shadows, the feeling of being watched by something hidden in the dark, stuff like that. We don’t do it just to be assholes, of course - well, most of us don’t, I should say. Hashtag not all monsters. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. The Dark Mother’s children all have a Hunger inside of us, and we keep it fed with fear. So we scare the humans, they feed us and get a little smarter in the process. Everybody wins.

[her face positively lights up with interest when murmur answers her question in turn. there’s not much that manages to surprise her, a semi-jaded millennial, but this admission? this she did not expect.]

Really. I knew you were different, I could tell you weren’t human or Kin, but ... [she laughs and shakes her head.] You’re not one of the God-Machine’s constructs, though, right? I’ve never seen one, just heard stories and rumors, but they’re supposed to be a lot more - hmm, robotic, I think? Like walking algorithms, pieces of computer code in physical form.

A pity to be so close-minded, yet not unsurprising. Such has been the ever growing trend for some time now.

[In his experience, and evidently her own. He looked thoughtful.] would you be a bound soul?

[Evidently he doesn't know what a soul-bonder is, instead taking the term more literally. He brightens as she continues, clearly fascinated by her tale.]

Ah! Lilit, of course that makes perfect sense you are one of hers.

[How amazing! He'd not had the pleasure of meeting Lilit's children in such a long time. Far removed as they were from both Heaven and Hell. Murmur was clearly delighted to learn more about this. He'd like to ask what she meant by "hashtag" but it didn't seem that important right now.]
Fascinating, so you are something of a symbiotic relationship with mortal kind. Of course I imagine they fail to notice the benefits of this relationship, it is their tendency to focus only on the negative.

[He knows how they can be. Skittish, short-sighted creatures. They could embrace such greatness when they put their first instincts aside, yet it was so rare. Usually, individuals were terribly boring because of that.

He looks thoughtful at her question.]

This vessel, [He thumps his chest with a closed fist.] is absolutely a construction. Mortals have a tendency to panic when looking upon our true forms, it makes speaking with them unreasonably difficult. However I have never heard us described as manifested algorithms, yet I cannot claim that as an inaccurate description either. Which is your machine-god?

Edited (Forgot a word) 2020-08-15 06:26 (UTC)

[she’s mid-sip of her drink when he asks that question, and she nearly chokes on it with how hard she laughs.]

Oh, sweetie, it’s not my god. [she laughs again, and wipes at her mouth with the back of her wrist.] I don’t follow any gods - I’ve been an atheist since I was a kid, and an anarchist since high school.

[she reaches up to tug the collar of her shirt down enough for the words inked there to be clearly read: NO GODS NO MASTERS.]

As far as souls are concerned, I have no idea if they’re even real. I’m guessing you’d more of an expert on that one. Either way, it doesn’t really matter much to me.

[He rose an eyebrow mid-sip of his own tea, a faint look that might very well be amusement crossing his features. She was, after all, a supernatural being speaking with an even more supernatural being and yet professing atheism. Fascinating.

Of course, he wasn't there to proselytize to her. It wasn't his place nor his calling. He was only there to observe.]

I can assure you there are most definitely souls. Wars have been fought over them, after all. We do not possess a soul, that is a uniquely mortal gift. [A pause, and a soft hum escaped him.] Or rather... it was.

[Waving that away as if it weren't the strangest thing in the universe to say he fixed his gaze back on her.]

I would still hear of this machine god.

[she doesn’t deny the existence of supernatural beings, even those powerful enough to be worshiped at various times in human history as gods. she even calls on them in her magickal workings if needed, but only as allies, never as superior beings worthy of worship or holding power over her. yes, she’s something of a paradox, and she’s fine with that.]

Wars have been fought over lies and misinformation, too.

[she shrugs, not particularly interested in debating this topic with someone she’s already acknowledged is more well-informed about it.]

The God-Machine is supposedly something like a supercomputer, though nobody knows for fact, since it hadn’t been especially forthcoming with details. Nobody really knows where it came from or when or why, or even what it wants, though there are plenty of cults devoted to figuring that out, human and monster alike. [she counts out on her fingers:] The Seers of the Throne are mages, mostly concerned with controlling all magic like the greedy, oppressive bastards they are. They don’t actively work with it, but their efforts are rumored to dovetail with the God-Machine’s workings from time to time. The werewolves have the Lodge of the Field, and from what I’ve read, the things they worship have a lot of similarities with some of the aspects of the God-Machine. The Holy Engineers probably have the closest association with it - they’re vampires, and they actually receive broadcasts directly from the God-Machine and have to interpret these so-called prophecies within a certain window of time or else it kills them. Rude, right? Doesn’t sound like any kind of god I’d want to follow, if I did want to follow a god.

[she pauses and finishes of the last of her beer.]

This is all rumor and speculation, of course, you know how secretive cults are. I dug up research once for a project I was working on - didn’t exactly pan out, but it wasn’t a total waste. Digging into mysterious occult bullshit can actually be really fun. I think the cult chapters are supposed to be mostly located in the bigger cities, especially out on the coasts, but I never looked into that part too closely. It wasn’t super relevant.

[jack slides her now-empty glass to the side and leans forwards, hands folded on the table in front of her.]

So what did you mean when you said that possessing a soul was a uniquely mortal gift?

[Interesting, very interesting. Fortunately he isn't one to push. If she does not wish to worship that isn't his place. He walks a fine line himself, and would be quite the hypocrite to try to lecture her on such things.

That didn't mean he wouldn't find it amusing, regardless.]

So they have.

[He won't disagree. He also won't debate unless she really wants to get into it. Souls are something Celestials are typically quite knowledgeable on. He's much more interested in knowing if the machine-god is at all similar to the deity he's been created by. Thankfully, it didn't seem so.]

The similarity with our current situation strikes me as an interesting correlation, with your description and our presumed captor.

[Oh, he likes this one. A mortal that enjoyed researching for the joy of research? It wasn't often Murmur had the pleasure of encountering someone who shared an interest so near and dear to his heart. Even his brothers thought his obsession strange, if useful, what with so many of them being warriors and little else. It was in their nature, but that didn't make Murmur's being so vastly different any less lonely.

Not that he'd admit that.]

I would be interested in hearing more about your project at another time, should you be willing. I do believe I've monopolized enough of yours without offering anything in return, we still have a task ahead.

[Assuming she was still willing to accompany him on it. He finally set aside his now empty tea cup, moving to stand. Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't answer her question, only that he intended to do so as they made their way toward the tunnels.]

Come, and I will tell you of the anomaly. Or "abomination" as some of my brethren were so eager to label her.

Edited 2020-08-17 03:33 (UTC)

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