[hello... he's returned to the sims room, where he's currently seated on a bench in what looks like a city park. it's nighttime, the stars overhead out in full force-- along with what looks like a flow of more sparkling lights winding through the sky like a river, lending it a faint glow. it's likely clearer in comparison that this flow is what's reflected on his form, this week.
everything here is scaled to his height, but even compared to his size the buildings are dizzyingly tall, elegantly spired.
...It is the place where civilization began. Before the resurrection, all of humanity lived there, including the Emperor. It was quite beautiful back then, and still is, but...it is a dead planet now. Nothing inhabits it save for Canaan House, the great fortress of the Emperor. And yet it is incredibly beautiful to look upon.
[so she will generate it. it's an enormous white fortress of a castle, made of stone and marble, rising out of a small island on a stormy sea. it was obviously once very beautiful but has fallen into disrepair and decay, with some of the stone crumbling. the ocean surrounds it all around. there are gardens and vines all around it but the plants are all dead - they seem almost frozen in a state of just having died recently. the ocean, also, is choppy and deep but dark and lifeless.
they're standing in an enormous atrium which has floors made of wood, some of which has been decayed and replaced with marble mosaics shot through with gold. there are tall crumbling columns, and the ceiling is a dome with tall glass windows, which are broken and have dead vines trailing in. there's a three tiered fountain in the center and there are moving skeleton constructs all around.]
[he stands still, for a few moments, just to take it all in; then he wanders to one of those mosaics, crouching next to it, claws idly settling onto the stone.]
It feels almost as if it is a monument, of sorts, to what no longer exists here.
[she feels a little sad looking at all of it, but it's a sadness that's more personal, that doesn't really appreciate the history.]
It has been empty for ten thousand years, of course. Other than the monks left behind to care for the place. The Emperor himself does not return. He has great enemies, and he does not wish to draw them towards the system where his children live.
My home is not so lovely as this, but it is dear to me. But in pledging my service to the Emperor, I took the same burden upon myself. If I return, I would only bring the same enemies to their doors.
I do not know that I would necessarily say so. My people have always held our duty in high regard, and we have not experienced those consequences... but others in these places often seem to find a dedication to duty strange.
They do. They often suggest it can be given up or traded for one's personal happiness.
[a sigh.]
That the Ninth House is strong will always come first before anything I might wish for myself, because I know what would be lost, to see them suffer or fall. That is what I mean by the consequences - something greater than myself that I could not bear to see lost.
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w2 friday
everything here is scaled to his height, but even compared to his size the buildings are dizzyingly tall, elegantly spired.
she gets a nod, when she enters.]
I assume you had that dream as well?
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I did. Very disconcerting...
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...you may have a seat, if you like.
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Is this your home?
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[a slight pause, as he looks up at the stars.]
I was away on business when I was brought to the Prism; I haven't seen Amaurot itself in some weeks.
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[his tone is a bit softer, there, expression presumably curious as he glances down to her; his face is still shadowed, though.]
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they're standing in an enormous atrium which has floors made of wood, some of which has been decayed and replaced with marble mosaics shot through with gold. there are tall crumbling columns, and the ceiling is a dome with tall glass windows, which are broken and have dead vines trailing in. there's a three tiered fountain in the center and there are moving skeleton constructs all around.]
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[he stands still, for a few moments, just to take it all in; then he wanders to one of those mosaics, crouching next to it, claws idly settling onto the stone.]
It feels almost as if it is a monument, of sorts, to what no longer exists here.
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[she feels a little sad looking at all of it, but it's a sadness that's more personal, that doesn't really appreciate the history.]
It has been empty for ten thousand years, of course. Other than the monks left behind to care for the place. The Emperor himself does not return. He has great enemies, and he does not wish to draw them towards the system where his children live.
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[after another moment or two of silence:]
One must wonder how it would feel, in that situation. To have such a place they cannot return to, for its own safety.
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[but the comment makes her sad.]
It is very lonely. Bittersweet, because you know it will always be there, safe.
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...I would do the same for my home, were there a need, but I would miss it.
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[she closes her eyes for a moment.]
My home is not so lovely as this, but it is dear to me. But in pledging my service to the Emperor, I took the same burden upon myself. If I return, I would only bring the same enemies to their doors.
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[he's quiet for a moment or two, in turn.]
Do you expect that matters shall ever be resolved to a point where you may return?
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You would understand such things better than most here, then, I should think.
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[a sigh.]
That the Ninth House is strong will always come first before anything I might wish for myself, because I know what would be lost, to see them suffer or fall. That is what I mean by the consequences - something greater than myself that I could not bear to see lost.
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[a slight shake of his head, there.]
I could not bear to see my own people fall, either. There is nothing that could come before the well-being of Etheirys.
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