is it not the innocent for whom a leader takes up the sword?

formerly a regent and politican of japan during the asuka period known in life known spreading buddhism, this was toyosatomimi no miko — though such may not have been entirely the truth, as it turns out. on the face her actions were carefully manufactured such as to maintain her country and keep the people satisfied, spreading buddhism to pacify and keep her people happy, while she pursued immortality via taoism. unfortunately, her efforts for true immortality ultimately failed, ruining her body in the process, but miko managed to seal her soul to the seven star sword, thus becoming a conditionally immortal shikaisen / hermit and falling into a deep sleep, planning to awaken when her country had moved on and needed her once again. unfortunately — they never did. buddhist monks kept resealing her mausoleum, and miko was eventually largely forgotten from public memory, the myriad miracle and amazing feats she performed in life were eventually believed to be false or merely gross exaggerations, and thus when she finally awoke was she in gensokyo, the land of fantasy sealed off from the outside world. now she’s just a hermit seeking true immortality and the truth of the universe through taoism.

the ez read below the cut!

♚ : perhaps if she weren't possessed of preternatural hearing, miko might not have overheard the young woman arguing with the shopkeep. arguing might have been too strong a term - it sounded more akin to the heated discussion between one set on getting a deal and one refusing to budge an inch in price. it was the type of haggling she used to delight in watching and, on occasion, ply her silver tongue in the act herself.

she'd wandered toward the enticing sounds without thinking, and realized how close she'd come to the source; the steadily reddening merchant versus a young woman wearing an increasingly incensed expression. their attention had briefly flicked to her, unfortunately.

♚ : and beyond the gate, there had been an ocean. it had been ages since miko had seen the sea - and never before had she seen it from this perspective. beneath the waves she could not see, far far below the surface, it seemed that the light was unable to reach these depths. so why was it that she still found herself able to see, even now as she peered into one of the light-starved caves that riddles the ocean floor?

'curious - ' but her voice came out garbled, distorted by the water. even if the strange fins that dotted her arms were an acceptable change, to be unable to speak properly down here was... concerning. was there a way around that? surely there would be another adaptation thrust upon her by the gods of this place.

“This game is quite the trial. In all the rounds since midday, you could count the number of victors on a single hand”. The Boardwalk’s attraction sounded simple enough on paper, however in practice, far more complicated had the matter proven — it was first when the command was given for players to levitate that the challenging nature became known and Lancer among those eliminated from that particular run. In fact, there had only been three survivors from the pool from that point onward. Observation seemed the more practical means of tackling what felt much more a riddle than simple game.

“Would changing costumes not constitute as cheating? While it is likewise unjust to issue orders the players cannot fulfil, altering your form in order to adhere would not be unlike illegal performance enhancing, correct? perhaps I am simply overthinking the rules. Still… to challenge players to nigh-impossible feats…” As if on cue, the command was issued for four arms be risen — the only player succeeding being an alien towering over his competitors with just enough appendages.

@princevirtue​​

♚ : the festivities seemed to be endless around the island and, while miko wasn’t necessarily inclined toward participating, it seemed a waste not to at least patrol and peruse the spectacles for her own peace of mind. one never knew what, exactly, was going to happen in this place - for better or, usually, worse.

still, this did seem to just be an easygoing game with the barest of rules - upon first glance, anyway. very quickly does miko realize that some of these commands given by the man in the mask are... questionable at best, and impossible at worst.

‘i think that it might be intended that you change costumes betwixt commands in order to win, but...’

‘they certainly don’t like to make matters easy, do they?’ she could admire the space left for creativity, albeit done with a veneer of duplicity. perhaps now the costume she’d unintentionally taken upon herself - and, further yet, somehow further committed herself to - would come to see some use. her practical knowledge as a noh performer may have rusted, but in theory one of these masks might have been imbued...

aha, there was a lion mask amidst the floating aggregation that surrounded her! the command had been to breathe fire and, but for the fact that she’d seen it done before, miko would not have otherwise made the connection so quickly. she pulls it to her face and heaves a great breath - and the flames roar out, much more quickly than she had expected. hopefully her new companion is not singed from having been stood so nearby.

      ❝  YIKES.  THAT  OBVIOUS  ,  HUH?  ❞  she asked, referring to the question of if she was NEW here, and wincing slightly. between this new girl and trace, it SEEMED like ahsoka was losing her touch. clearly the time she spent alone had done a number on her social skills.

      ❝ …guess you could say i’m still adjusting to this planet. …whatever this planet is called.  ❞

[ @princevirtue​ est. COMLINK / rec. AHSOKA TANO. ]

♚ : it had been a while since she herself had been new to the island, but miko remembered all too well the sensation of nigh-painful awkwardness that had accompanied it. perhaps as a result of her experiences - or was that a glimmer of her inborn cognitive abilities? - she was able to recognize the stuttering delicacy in another.

‘another planet? you are likely correct on that account. it would perhaps be more accurate yet to say we are in another dimension, completely cut off from the outside but for the whims of those who keep us here.’

This planet and its tech is strange – and not just because the machines here were something he didn’t recognize at first. Anakin’s seen plenty of designs he wasn’t already familiar with, of course – but this is different. It’s not just that. Here, it’s like the very foundation, the way things are put together, all the way down to every component, everything, is different. It’s bizarre. It’s interesting. It’s… a little archaic.

But for all that this planet’s technology and machinery is largely unfamiliar from what Anakin remembers from where he came from, he’d like to think he’s come to know it fairly well. Better than the average person pulled off the street, undoubtedly – and likely even better than many of the natives within the Fibonacci Ward. And that’s not even an exaggeration; Anakin has always understood machines, always had a knack for technology, piecing things together and taking them apart – and even in this place, that still holds true.

❝ Sure, something like that, ❞ he agrees with aplomb. His posture is straight with confidence – and perhaps more than that; he’s undeniably cocky, but not without good reason. He seems largely unbothered by what the shop owner thinks of their words; after all, it’s just the truth.

Anakin folds his arms over his chest. His chin tips upwards, and the grin that stretches across his face is more than a little smug. ❝ Well, lucky for you, I’m an expert, ❞ he tells her, and although the words are boastful, his tone is light enough that the words come across as more good-natured than they do vain. This too is the truth. If there is one thing Anakin knows, it’s machinery.

♚ : under ideal circumstances, miko would be able to put her hands on the wares for sale and examine each one to her heart’s content; alas, this is a land where she is (yet again) nigh unknown and therefore lacking the privileges someone of her status should be accorded. she would have surely liked the time to take apart what she wished, to learn for herself what was good and what was, simply, junk.

but these are different times, and she is just a nameless stranger in a strange land. life will go on. the would-be merchant eyes the two with equal parts disgust and wariness. he’s the least of her concerns right now, though.

‘then i would appreciate your guidance on the path to... better understanding of what i might look for in a machine.’ the truth is that she doesn’t like not knowing something, especially when it seems so crucial to surviving in a place like this. the technology is eons ahead of her time, akin to the outside world that she hasn’t seen since her own, long-forgotten era. stubbornness and a refusal to be left behind to fade into antiquity drive her ever forward. ‘an expert would certainly make for a proper teacher, yes?’

“ Oh? My bad. ” Figures. Would’ve made things a whole lot easier if that were the case. He almost feels a frown almost forming cause of it. Thankfully her next statement distracts Django just enough to keep himself from letting the mask slip. “ So basically someone who’s connected with the day-to-day here, right? ” For a second there he almost feels like he’s back home doing business. It makes Django just the tiniest bit nostalgic.

“ Nah, nah. You don’t gotta worry about that. I’m just a little jumpy is all. ” Trust issues tend to leave you feeling like that. “ Suppose I’m a pretty decent choice for this kinda thing. Given my job and all. ” It quickly dawns on him that he’s almost left the poor woman hanging. Such a poor display of manners towards someone who simply wishes for information.

Although that’s what keeps his mind racing throughout this conversation. Not exactly in the same way someone who might be panicking may do so. It’s more like his curiosity has taken the wheel and decided to put the pedal to the metal. Her choice of wording tells Django that she’s looking to see what the state of affairs here on the island might be. What for exactly? Can’t say for sure.

“ Well, if you’re lookin’ to talk about things over tea, then I’m game. ” He replies back after shaking her hand. “ Guess we can course correct this now. But uh, name’s Django. Django Foley. And what do they call you? ”

♚ : if only she could read him. miko wants to suspect he would become an open book with her true power unrestrained, but the voices of others’ desires have been both sporadic and faint. she has both enjoyed and despised the silence - though there has been more than enough noise from the citizens of this island to make up for it.

does he fear her? or does he simply rightfully have reason to doubt her intentions? the former is unlikely; the latter seems to be the probable truth. miko knows she doesn’t exactly strike terror into the hearts of men on first glance - that’s not her goal, anyway - but she always has to wonder what the people think of her. hopefully he will at least come to trust her enough to share information, perhaps build a relationship of mutual understanding.

but that is enough chasing after a stray train of thought. miko continues to smile pleasantly, albeit blandly, the perfect diplomat’s smile.

‘my formal name is toyosatomimi no miko. however...’ she tilts her head to the side, finger tapping lips in pause. ‘i suppose it would be more appropriate to address me as miko if we are to establish any level of familiarity.’

Golden leylines illuminate his steps as he approaches the library. In the absence of his own clansmen, he finds himself having to do all of his own footwork. But, he figures, hand resting on the hilt of his newly returned blade, he also isn’t in constant need of routing assassins here, either, so he supposes that its a fair trade.

And so he finds himself in the Great Library of Xalphina, where nature runs free and tomes are aplenty. Holding one barely legible tome in his hands, his gloved finger moves across half-faded texts.

“Magic in the absence of a Vision…” He murmurs to himself, blue eyes narrowing. While Delusions were an option for those without a Vision, the side effects had been devastating to the average person, and so seeing that this place was host to those Vision- and Delusionless who wielded the elements as he did himself, he couldn’t help but research it himself.

At this hour, and during this festive season, most were at the various attractions available throughout the island. So when he heard footfalls near him, he unabashedly spoke:

“Here to seek knowledge yourself?” His Vision hung at his waist, and he did not look up from the old and tarnished tome in his hands.

@princevirtue​

♚ : she finds herself ever returning to this library, in pursuit of some glimmer of knowledge that might at least ease the daily lives of the citizens who are forcibly kept on the island. miko has not entirely accepted her fate, but she has accepted that sometimes a compromise is necessary in order to move forward. small steps are still steps on the path to victory!

so she tells herself as she peruses the shelves with hands trailing across the spines of tomes long left untouched, her fingertips coming away coated with dust.

‘in the process of attempting to do so.’ the frown upon her face clears, replaced by a genial smile. ‘though, as always, it is difficult to begin when one has yet to decide what they are searching for.’

“OH! Yo, I would love to hear you play one day.” A duet with a violin and a Shamisen? She wonders what kind of lovely sound it would make. Gets her pumped just thinking about it, even if there was a chance it may not even happen. 

“Hanging out with the pixies is nice.” She says with a light laugh, “they can be pretty annoying sometime,” She pokes one of them playfully as the small creature waves their hands at Ismael, with a pouting look, “But they’re cute and they mean well as long as you don’t bother them.” One of the pixies sits on top Ismael’s slightly messy brown hair. It looks like she’s making tiny tiny braids. 

“There’s not  much really. In fact, I got to do a lot more here than back home. Back home I just played music with my friends BUT I’ve always wanted to be an musician. Make myself known, you know? Put myself out there for all to hear.” And while that dream was still there, she realized there was just so much going on. Ah, that dream was when life was MUCH simpler. When all that was out of the ordinary was her befriending a spirit. 

♚ : the delight the girl’s words bring miko is difficult for her to conceal upon her face, but she manages, albeit barely. performing for a grander audience had oft been on her mind of late. while she had tried to abandon such notions of material and otherwise worldly desires in favor of a hermit’s life and the ultimate goal of immortality, it had been difficult to entirely forgo those distractions of humanity.

‘i would be honored to bestow a performance upon you someday. perhaps you might consider returning the favor?’

‘they very much remind me of the fairies of my home. small and excitable, prone to whimsical behavior and bouts of mischief.’ she nods her head sagely, in agreement with ismael’s words. one of the pixies is waving at miko, and she offers a staid wave in return. ‘you cannot fault someone for what is in their very nature.’

The coming of the Autumn season is often signaled by the much cooler weather that slowly but steadily flows into the city. Vibrant greenery that was once full of so much color also begins to adjust its foliage, opting for comfortable browns, oranges, and yellows. The Eternal Tree is no different, although it manages to keep some of its vibrant colors. As Yae Miko overlooks the skyscraper of a tree, she muses out loud to herself. “Passing strange how this tree seems to reflect the state of the city. Its vibrance is a testament to the warm feeling felt in the city because of the season.”

“Yet it feels a bit comforting all the same, don’t you think? People can find joy even in a place like this, despite all odds. It’d be inspiring if we weren’t being held captive. Even still…I think it may make the cut.”

@princevirtue​ 

♚ : no matter how much everything had changed on the island since miko first arrived, the tree still remained the same: alive, full, beautiful in every season. it was one of the few things she enjoyed about this place, in that it reminded her more of her era, in which nature was not something to be conquered but instead coexisted with. perhaps that was a sign that she still had yet to abandon that ancient part of herself to modernity.

‘i would have to agree with you. this tree stands at odds with the rest of this place, but i quite like it. to see nature at her finest, encroached upon all sides by concrete and metal. well - ’ she pauses, considering their surroundings. ‘i suppose it’s not so stark a contrast here in this ward as the others.’

Shamisen?

“Oh, what kind of instrument is that?” Ismael loved all music, but that didn’t mean she knew every instruments under the sun. She finds herself rather curious about her musical choice! Maybe one day she’ll get to hear what kind of sound it makes.

“Nice to meet you, though Miko. That’s a pretty name. It’s cute–er, like you!” She hopes her friendly compliment doesn’t come off as something flirtatious. It sounded much better in her head. She almost cringes when it came out into actual words. 

“I do visit here often though. There’s something about playing music with the pixies or even the animals or by the tree that just makes everything….therapeutic.” Ismael’s first audience were in fact the little pixies. 

“I came here to sing, dance, and play my violin and they’d always just listen, SO I come here almost every day now.” Beaming, Ismael pats one of the pixies gently and turns her attention back on Miko, “AND yeah! It’s the cutest thing ever. They’ll dance to the beat, dance around you and I’m sure they sing a long. It’s the cutest thing ever.”

♚ : even if she can’t divine the innermost thoughts and truths of this young woman, miko can at least decide whether or not she’s trustworthy from her outward and (likely) genuine behavior. there’s no ill will borne from this one - not towards her, anyway, though she detects nothing of the sort at the moment anyway.

there is a small amount of joy to be found in the opportunity to explain something new to someone else, and the compliment only serves to flatter her ego.

‘it is nice to just let everything go and enjoy one’s self, isn’t it? though one cannot do it every moment, i think that fact only makes the time we are able to spend like this all the more the enjoyable.‘

‘a shamisen is a stringed instrument that can be assembled and disassembled. i’d liken it to - ’ her knowledge of more modern instruments is limited, but functional. ‘a small three-stringed guitar, but with more of a box-shaped body. it can produce a lovely sound in the right hands, and makes for a fine accompaniment to dancers and other performers... and it’s much easier to transport than a koto.’

she admires the pixies as they frolic and play, momentarily entranced by how carefree their lives seem to be, and finds herself wishing for that sort of freedom of existence herself - though, of course, the yearning is fleeting.

So this was the headset-wearing girl’s first of using a phone. Quite understandable but the one thing is how is she going to teach her how to use it?

As much as she’d wanted to help but her problems in communicating with others is being a legitimate hindrance for her.  Shouko was nervous but gotta do her very best in accurate learning of how to use a smartphone that is assigned for everyone in this place.

“I-I’ll… do my best.” Limited to words but hoping that this will be worth the other’s time than Shouko’s. She can do this. After all, it was a good samaritan’s way on helping.

“W-Which part… you wanted… t-to learn?” Despite the stutter, she needs to know which part Toyosatomimi no Miko to learn with.

♚ : finally she hears the timid, stuttering voice of the girl, and a smile alights upon miko’s face in response to see her seemingly gather the courage to speak. there’s something about seeing another person fumble about for their confidence that is heartening to the former ruler. she almost forgets her prior goal but for the phone that remains gripped in her hands.

‘if you’ve the time, then i have several functions i would like to ask about. first...’ she holds up the device, screen facing toward komi, with one of the mass messages the people of the island send out from time to time visible on the screen.

Xalphina Library was a treasure lode of books, so many, many and even many more than Caster could possibly dream of. There were so many genres as well many sorts of them, but the ones they were interested in? It was of course, the books read to children — like Alice. They had … felt like it was a sacred bound-duty to make sure these books were up to snuff, or so to speak, were good for children — made them happy, smile… not cry, or hurt. So, they went through all of them almost vicariously, devouring them, somehow metaphorically to speak, as they read and read. Searching for the soul, the beats — everything that they felt was good enough. Sometimes, they’d leave a message on a scrap of paper, which they leave in some books — criticizing it for being too mean, too sad — it wasn’t up to their standards. Alice’s standard…

Other times, they’d read the books quietly … so quietly— that only with the most extraordinary hearing could possibly hear them. Their voice was small like chimes on the wind, reading slowly, carefully & lovingly. But of course, it was because they were reading — someone had caught their voice — caught Caster’s attention and … well, they ran. Well floating, if one wanted to be so exact about it…

They don’t respond — seemingly as if they fled the scene. They didn’t, however, only to realize … They forgot something important. Their inkwell, feather and the rest of the paper…

♚ : that tiny voice is crystal clear to miko’s ears - as it like would not be to just anyone who happened to be in the vicinity - but her attempts to pinpoint the source seem to be going nowhere. this is an effort driven almost solely by curiosity and whim, of course, so it’s not as if the end of the world would descend should she give up, but - still, she winds her way further into the labyrinth of shelving, watching the genre of titles slowly shift into fairytales and other children’s favorites.

it’s the footsteps after she speaks that catch her attention again. tiny and quick, but just loud enough to hone in on. she finds what she’s looking for - or, well, she might have had she been a bit more fleet of foot. instead, all that remains of the mysterious voice in the shelves is a few writing implements and some paper, hastily dotted across the floor. it seemed a shame to leave them there, as the objects were clearly well-loved if the apparent age of them was anything to go by. she’s got no leads this time, however.

time to be straightforward again, even if it does make her feel a tad silly.

‘oh no, it appears someone has left their ink and pen just sitting here upon the ground!’ overly dramatic for even her tastes, but miko finds herself quickly beginning to enjoy the moment. her voice raises just a bit more, to be certain that whoever left the items might hear if they’re even a moderate distance away.

       DEATH; that’s all that remains— he breathes it, lives it, every moment of every day since he was a child. it is in his blood now, in his bones, and stains his flesh. had he been so foolish? to wish for some measure of normalcy? was he so wrong to try? these are the questions that plague his present, and just like the ghosts, they never let him rest. when he closes his eyes, it is all he can think about.

       and this… this is the catalyst for everything thereafter. he knows not to what end he must relive the memory once more, but he watches, and he does not look away. the stench of smoke and decay condenses the air, veiling the fields in a thick and evil fog. the fire spreads, catching everywhere it creeps, the tormented screams of those unable to escape its reach fill the hazy sky. a haunting symphony, one that haunts you, and never lets you go. 

       amidst the clamour, a young boy, filthy and alone, wades through a sea of bodies. from afar, dimitri watches in silence, an emptiness becoming him. it does not matter what he may scream into the devastation, his sadness and frustration, the open wounds he has to bare… the song remains the same.

                                                                     @princevirtue​.

♚ : there is nothing here. not in the literal sense, but the figurative: nothingness, nothing, no one - at least in the sense of someone whole that she can identify via those inimitable ten desires that every human possesses. perhaps her first assessment is not accurate in that sense; even the spirits of the dead still have their dreams, after all. no, this is yet different, and the man who stands before her watching this ruinous scene of dread nothing is hollowed out and filled with something else. miko can feel - no, can hear that much, if little else.

perhaps it is sadness then, that fills the void that lies ahead. grief. suffering. there are countless dead, and as many dying. the stench of death is overwhelming, and if she focuses on it too much, miko finds it stifling her hearing. even so, as she takes a step closer to the man in the smoky haze of this death-filled landscape, she wonders: what survives through this? nothing. who lives through this and comes out whole? no one. even in her lifetime, she’d never witnessed such utter devastation directly. the battlefields she’d seen were nothing like this.

the man stands and watches, his back to her as she approaches. what is there to say? silence speaks volumes, but the chance of being misunderstood is there all the same. she doesn’t have it in her to keep quiet anyway.

‘some stories cannot be changed no matter how much we wish for a different ending - this is a tragedy that you cannot rewrite, i’m afraid.’ it is not intended to be a harsh or callous statement, but this horror to which she’s played witness - she must understand it. and if, perhaps, she might help the young man whose existence feels like little more than a hollowed-out mask with no one behind it. that terrible swarm of negative emotion does not allow her much hope. still: she tries. it is the duty of a ruler-come-saint-come-hermit to at least try.