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1063. Pre-Written Personas
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 03:52:07 +0000 UTCFrost narrowed her eyes. Beside her was the string belonging to the twins. The Moth Missionary pointed at these with a fuzzy finger, and then, she wore an empty smile.
“It is no longer attuned with Act X. Traitors… those who disobey the Script, lose their attachment. It goes elsewhere, beyond the fog of the Advent of Purpose, to fuel another Living Loom’s Commandments. The definition of a traitor is an ally who betrays the trust of another to join an enemy.”
“They’re not with Act X?”
“They turned their backs to what gave them purpose. Their drive to exist. Their reason to live… A puppet lacking a role must be put down. However, they are still attached to the Advent of Purpose. What it wishes is beyond what our Scripts command. Thus, it changes nothing. Even if they did not betray Act X, and if this were all not true, what is written shall be carried out until we can no longer physically complete our Commandments.”
Frost found this hard to believe.
Just one act of disobedience was enough to change them to another Living Loom? And to who? Or what? The Impuritas? Something else? The Fate Mechanism itself?
These questions were beyond the abilities of a Missionary.
They only knew that those who refused to obey the Scripts were no longer part of Act X, and therefore, needed to be severed from it.
“And you will commit to it? Even if it means crossing the Head?” Frost asked.
The Missionary nodded. Her sentiment was shared by the rest. The outcome did not matter. So long as they were striving to satisfy the Commandment then they did not care what the implications were.
It was their sole mission in life.
“Even if it means that your soul will be destroyed?” Frost bared her fangs.
A collective smile formed on the faces of the Missionaries, the Heralds and the Acolytes. The darkness in their eyes, and the smile that lacked emotion reflected precisely what they were. Empty. So empty that Frost was convinced they lacked any semblance of self.
“Even if it means you will never know a ‘you’ beyond that pre-written persona?”
That harrowing smile grew twofold.
Their lips spread to the edges of their faces unnaturally.
“Amalgam.” The moth Missionary strode forward with a graceful step. “Did you not know? We precisely gave up our sense of self…”
And then, she raised her sword.
“… So that we can wear our pre-written selves. Tell me Amalgam, is it not easier for you to live as that Healer you take after than the Head who busies herself with the rot beneath her heaven?”
She swung her sword, and Frost instantly intercepted.
“This role I was given here doesn’t suit me. Because I’d give anything to rip out your tongue.”
A loud clang broke out. Even in her form, she was more than capable of overwhelming a Missionary. However, she could not do more than fend them off. Her fingers dug into the edge of the blade before snapping it in two.
Suddenly, just as the Act X dove forward to overwhelm Frost and Acedia, lightning fired from beneath the moth Missionary, and her body was reduced to a smoking husk. A hole formed from beneath Frost, and Res called out from inside.
“See what happens when we try to be reasonable? I’m sorry Frost. But I can’t agree with your ‘no killing’ policy here!”
“It was the Amalgam’s orders –!”
“Res is right. I’ve made a grave mistake by pushing this onto you all. This place is detached enough from the real world where death is meaningless. My order was flawed.” Frost confessed and smiled before nodding at Acedia. “You now have my permission to burn them.”
“Ah… As Mother requests.”
“Mother?” A Missionary questioned an approaching Acedia.
A hazy aura surrounded her. Heat hot enough to melt metal pulsed from her body before flickers of flames shot out from her back. Suddenly, the blades that were swung in Frost’s direction melted like wax. Slag dripped from the hilts of their blades before their robes caught alight.
The heat intensified further, and the people Acedia deemed as enemies instantly caught alight. Yet there were no screams, only a hollow, desperate attempt to keep fighting until they could no longer physically move. Even when they lost all motor functions, they croaked out the order of their Script.
Act X personnel who had not yet boarded the ship flung themselves into the fire like moths to a flame. Missionaries led them straight to their deaths, and none dared to disobey. Less experienced Acolytes screamed. But those were quickly silenced by a burning Missionary who uttered:
“Behead the screaming candleflames and count down from eight. Eight. Seven. Six… Five… Four… Thr… ee… Two… O… n… e…”
In ten minutes, there were no longer any members of Act X left to board the ship. The battlefields were devoid of personnel. They were dominated by the Anids and the Corrupted Denizens.
“Stop. You can stop Acedia…”
“Are you also rattled by their pain tolerance?”
“No… I just had a thought come to me. I don’t even know if its possible to Corrupt them. The Scripts are everything to them. Tch… Is this what the Scripts are to the twins? Their means to keep on living?”
“The Scripts…” Orth’s muffled voice came from beneath. Thras followed:
“… they were there when no one else was.”
“We needed them.” (Orth).
“Because without them…” (Thras).
“We can only think back…” (Orth).
“… to the times that hurt the most.” (Thras).
“But if we aren’t ‘us’…” (Orth).
“Then we were never hurt.” (Thras).
“Right?” (Orth).
“Right.” (Thras).
“… That’s not…” Frost couldn’t bring herself to say what came to her mind.
That’s not how it should work.
People had different ways of dealing with grief. A plant shrivels. An animal whimpers and hides. People seclude themselves or disassociate… In extreme cases, they become what the twins became. Wingless Doves. Shells.
She could not tell them that it was wrong to rely on the Script. She believed that there were alternatives to such a drastic choice. In the end, she could only silently mourn them.
“It shouldn’t be how it works. But it does.” Raoul however spoke bluntly.
The splashes had long ceased. Acedia’s flames subsided. Jury’s speed slowed to a reasonable pace, and they were now sailing through an expansive sea.
“The Scripts do help people when they lose everything. I was offered a role in Act X once.” Raoul sighed, walking out onto the deck with Joy, the twins, and Res behind her. “Never took it. Funny. I’ve been working under people for so long that it wouldn't have made a difference. I still don’t know why I also refused Memento Mori.”
“… Why is it wrong?” (Orth).
“Because we weren’t allowed to touch you?” (Thras).
Raoul set her sights into the shimmering horizon. She shook her head.
“I lost the people I loved again. But… you two looked so at peace… to the point where I…”
Raoul lost her train of thought. She wrenched the cloth near her heart and briskly moved her free hand to grab a cigarette from her [Dimensional Storage]. She only began to calm down after numerous puffs.
“We… worried you?” (Orth).
“Hurt you?” (Thras).
“I was worried. And I was hurt. It is what it is.” Raoul dismissed them entirely, however, her tail subtly shifted closer to their ankles. “Can’t change the past. I don’t know if it can be changed or fixed. You two rely on the Scripts.”
The twins did not seem to notice this.
“… Helps.” (Orth).
“Gives us direction.” (Thras).
“But it hurt you?” (Orth).
“Did it really?” (Thras).
They both stared at Raoul’s bandaged leg.
“More than you can imagine.” Raoul blew out another puff of smoke.
She did not realize how much her answer meant to them.
*
An island appeared in the distance, where a large purple spire reached towards the sole star in the sky. It dominated the horizon, and Frost instinctively knew that was their last stop.
She felt this way because of how brightly the star shone above…
… and how many strings converged at that light. It wasn’t a light at all, but it appeared that way to the others. It was, in truth, the manifestation of millions, if not billions of converging strings.
It was a sight to behold.
“Froooost! We’re almost there! Look at it! A getaway resort in the middle of the ocean!” Jury cried from the front of the ship, before suddenly appearing behind Frost. “Hmhm What do you say about another date?”
“Date? There? In the Audition?”
“Aww. You don’t want to?” Jury’s hands wrapped around her waist possessively and brought her close.
Then, she brought her lips down to Frost’s ears and hummed a tune she had never heard of.
Frost had to read between the lines.
Because this Jury’s idea of a date was certainly not the same as her Jury’s.
