Divergent Paths

This is a lovely story Slywyn wrote for me! She also has a writing blog here and is open for commissions.

I’m also going to just post the info I gave her for the story, since it is Relevant Worldbuilding Information:

Gestalt - burgundy with a lot of jewelry, bright pink eyes, professor of mathematics, keeps bees (cloth bees, ofc), plays at being very casual, schemer, polymath, everything's a metaphor and people are pawns, dislikes poetry; cloth cut: pear-shaped, from the plains and farmlands, fairly common; life goals: none much to speak of; scarf-type: braids, so good at multi-tasking, "fingers in all the pies"

Ode - black and unadorned, bright blue eyes, graduate student studying alternative energy, work-oriented, literalist, but likes poetry, loner, doesn't understand most social niceties or care, tries to stay under the radar but is super smart and super distinctly designed so fails a lot; cloth cut: very foreign (from a floating city called Mi'raj), tall, thin, and dark; life goals: discovering a more efficient, long-term energy solution; scarf-type: flat, multi-tipped, so good with detail and precision, but specialized

Location: The Museum -- everything is sparkly, Journey architecture, bright colours, lots of shiny shit. Everything has a sort of golden haze that's v pretty but due to pollution. Everything is BIG and impressive and nothing has handrails. Has a tall, white wall separating it from the City. Is its own, self-sustaining little world that the students and teachers rarely leave.

Gestalt has been aware of Ode for longer than Ode's been aware of her, at least romantically. They know each other from back when Gestalt was an assistant professor, as Gestalt helps Ode out in her research, but Ode is an oblivious idiot so Gestalt's the one to instigate everything.

The ancestors had a Base 8 system (sans 0 ofc), not base 6. Six is, however, a sort of death number, which works much better for Gestalt's symbolism.

Still torn between whether Mi'raj has a different base 8 with 0 or Ode gets to discover 0, which works better for her too. Either way, Edge-of-Tide has some sort of issue with 8 because they're base 10 on account of hands.

The entire war's a sort of Cold War goes hot M.A.D. situation. See "There Will Come Soft Rains" 

Magnetism is definitely something they're aware of, as well as solar energy, though nobody's figured out how to utilize either super efficiently (barring Mi'raj). Most goldstone looking stuff are lodestones. Somehow they interact with glyph juice/fumes. Glyph juice = Fairly new discovery at time?

This is an anti-Journey cult dedicated to the concept of free will (even if they have to make you) called Soul’s Light. The validity of their claims are disputable, but there’s a good-sized settlement on the horizon.

On the surface, the cult’s harmless and even inviting. Soul’s Light, however, has its share of zealots - it wouldn’t be a cult, otherwise - and frequently extreme plans to reach their goals. The members are noticeable for their blue robes and lanterns.

They’re isolationist in nature, but have no problem confronting those on the journey, blocking their way by whatever means necessary. Yes, up to and including death of others or themselves (which is why I have a good many nameless, faceless NPCs, if need be). There’s also the more docile sermonizing, for those who believe but aren’t at the murder stage yet.

The leader, Beatrice, probably won’t be an interactive character. She’s more of a figurehead, ever in the periphery and occasionally referenced but never directly addressed.

Though we are small*, our numbers grow. We welcome all who have seen the truth.

Azure Blue Cloaks

Our members who have never set foot in paradise and remain untainted by the addiction.

Cadfael

Bio #cadfael

5’7”, gangly, clumsy, wears a shawl over his cloak, occasionally entertains ideas of going to the mountain, stupid curious, hobbies include various arts, recitation; never had contact w/ ancestor

Varied Shades of Blue Cloaks

Our members who have traveled to paradise, yet realize their errors. A tier of silver for each journey taken.

Durante

5’9”, average build, melodramatic, reborn thrice, hobbies include weaving, avoiding duties, kidnapping, posing dramatically; ancestor is tba

Vergil

6’4”, majestic build, majestic looking, paternal, reborn eight times, hobbies include weaving, kidnapping, murder, agriculture; ancestor is tba

Chaucy

5’2”, stands tall, reborn once, hobbies include sleeping, writing, drawing, wandering aimlessly; ancestor tba

Starry Cloaks

Those most pure of us who do not have the mountain song in their veins.

Midnight Blue Cloak

The cloak reserved for our leader.

Beatrice

Bio #beatrice

5’, curvy, measured/put on grace, quiet unless sermonizing, reborn a gazillionty times, mysterious, hobbies include lantern making, writing; ancestor is tba

We believe Life is sacred, Life is holy. We have but one Life, to do with what we will.

We believe in sunlight, in moonlight, in starlight and firelight and soul’s light.

We believe in the deep from which we came. We believe there is a first, there will be a last.

We believe Life is not meant to be purgatory nor a trial by fire into some false paradise. Paradise belongs to all, and shall not be denied to any!

We believe not in the mountain, but in ourselves. The mountain feeds on us like prey. We are not prey. We are ourselves.

We belong to ourselves and each other, not to the mountain nor our ancestors.

Life is sacred. Life is holy. Live it as it was meant to be!

“ When you say don’t climb the mountain. I don’t know what else to do but I literally climbed it 7 times and it was worth it each time because on the 3 time I found the wayfarers at the Japanese hot pool event and I was quite happy! So I stayed low for a while and then I went out into the light!” *Crossing my arms smiling*

——

Cadfael shifted his lamp from one shoulder to the other, nervous when faced with his first confrontation. Before he made his case, mentally reviewing the rhetoric he’d been taught and come up with in practice runs, the acolyte needed to compose himself. Always think before speaking, especially about the mountain, and start very, very small. That was how Vergil had taught him.

“That does sound like fun,” he began carefully. “I’ve never been, myself, but there’s a lot to be done down here, too. Instead of going on the journey over and over and restarting from the beginning each time, we try and build a world we not only can survive in, but grow in. For everyone, even those who go on the journey.” He shrugged underneath the blue cloak he wore. “There’s a lot that needs to be done that wouldn’t get done if we all journeyed to the mountain.”

——

“True. I also want to see that. But how? Are we going to carry on fighting each other for scraps?!” I say a bit angrily “he other wayfarers would never listen the sides it’s a choice to climb the mountain and it’s where you can get a better cloak and fly higher than the city of you want. Also it’s beautiful up there” I say and then I say “it’s also where the guardians become scarf dragons”

—–

Blue eyes darted around, looking for anyone who might be able to help him. Cadfael didn’t handle legitimate anger very well, but he couldn’t let himself be cowed. His hands wrung the wood of his lamp stick, palms sweaty.

“We don’t want to fight, and we don’t want to live with scraps. But – but too many are going to the mountain instead of trying to build a community. What if the light goes out? Or the ancestors go silent? What if –” what was it Mother Beatrice had said about the cloth dolls who seemed to eternally loop. They were like children, never learning their lessons… “What if you grow up, but the mountain stays the same? And the world stays the same, because everyone goes to the mountain for better cloaks, or pretty views, and never learn how to help themselves?”

Cadfael lapsed into a momentary silence, committing that point to memory. He’d kind of extrapolated from what Mother Beatrice had said, but it didn’t seem wrong. “B-besides, It’s beautiful here, too. Sometimes, when the rains come and the salt flats flood, it looks like you’re standing on the sky.”

——

I’m silent from a moment trying to process your point and I look outside the big hole in the wall which pretty much takes over 80% percent of the wall and I say “your right, we might not be able to restart. But the way we evolved over the years and how some didn’t, some don’t have bodies and others grew ears like myself” twitches ears and looks out at the vegetation that grew on the old buildings and the ruins and the animals and all the life…….and its beauty….I stare out while I feel the wind through my hair and I take a deep breath and say “this world is beautiful…. I want to stay in it as long as possible” I look out at the sunset behind the mountain and I close my eyes pretending to feel what you described

—–

Cadfael nodded sagely, as though he came up with the observation and not Ruvik. It really was beautiful, and some days he didn’t even feel the ache to go to the mountain because of that. How Ruvik described the mountain made it seem… less horrible than how Mother Beatrice portrayed it, but that was indeed only one part of a very large world. Perhaps, later, he’d tempt fate and ask more about the mountain.

For now, though Cadfael wasn’t going to toe that line. He likewise looked out, beyond the ruin they’d both found themselves in, and focused instead on the other point Ruvik had brought up. That everyone was vastly different was never anything he’d heard addressed either way. “It is strange, isn’t it, how we’re so different? Those little cloth people, you, me – there’s a friend of mine, she looks like me, but even then we’re not the same. She wasn’t born of the mountain like I was. I wonder why that is? Why are there so many different types of people?”

—–

Durante crouched in front of Chaucy, who had the edge of her cloak pressed to her nose, the blue fabric darkening to purple. The others crowded around her scarf, which still crackled on its torn edge. Many of them were her age or younger, new to their pilgrimages and only familiar with the beaten paths. None were ready yet for the yearly journey to the ruins, and Durante wondered how much further this would set them back.

“It’s probably broken,” he announced. Chaucy gave him a bloody grin. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself. That was very stupid of you. Here, stand up.” Durante stood and helped Chaucy to her feet. Sand trickled off of her, and she brushed away the grit that had dug into her skin from the landing.

“Here, you, uh—”

“Cadfael,” the blue cloak said, lifting his mask. He had a furtive, hunted look to him, lantern jingling on its rod. The attack had shaken him, though he seemed untouched.

“Cadfael, take her. Who else was hit?”

A few hands rose, and Durante did his due diligence checking them for injuries. Chaucy had taken the brunt of the attack, and the rest had scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. These less trod paths had more unpredictable dangers, but were safe enough that they worked as a trial run, usually. Underneath the calm veneer of his own mask, Durante was pallid and shaky. Seeing a war machine dive through a cluster of wayfarers like that, scattering them like silver fish —

“We’ll head back to sunlight and regroup,” he announced. He was supposed to be the leader, so he should make some decisions.

Chaucy shook off the other wayfarer and sidled up, putting a hand on Durante’s arm. “I lost my eye when I hit that wall,” she said apologetically.

Durante was silent a moment. “Okay,” he said. “You all go back — on the main path,” he added pointedly. “Chaucy’s in charge now. She’ll get you to it, so stay close to her.” He didn’t like leaving her in charge, since it was hard to remember she was an adult, but she did have seniority after him.

Chaucy clapped him on the back before rousing the blue cloaks. They marched off like a line of fireflies, their lamps disappearing one by one around a corner further away, leaving Durante with only his light for company.

He began the search right around where Chaucy had hit, picking the broken glass out of the oiled netting of her own lamps, which hadn’t survived the impact. He tucked the pieces in a crevice and covered them with sand before shining his light high and wide, looking for the glint of gem or metal.

When he finally emerged from the underground, false eye safely tucked away in his cloak, the mountain was silhouetted in evening light and the eternal rivers of sand were all alight. He wouldn’t be able to find any campfires or lamplight now, so simply scaled the city to one of the higher points and sat down to rest on the warm stone and watch the sunset.

A movement nearby caught his attention, dark figure flitting through darker ruins. Durante squinted, trying to make out any details — they didn’t look like one of the normal red or white cloaks. He bounded a little closer. In fact, they looked like a blue cloak turned black in the deepening evening. No lantern. Had one of their acolytes run off after what happened in the underground?

He set down his lantern and dropped into the broken alleys and flooded streets, gaze tilted heavenward to catch the movement of the runaway. Now Durante was sure it was a blue cloak, headed toward the mountain.

—————-

It wasn’t as if Xun had a time frame or a date upon which they were due, but they couldn’t help but feel they were late as the mountain embraced the setting sun. It was the same route as always, the path they had deemed to be the quickest… just taken much later than usual. From building to building they leapt through the ruined city, laughing with each close call and cheering aloud with each perfect maneuver, soon to be moving above the Underground if they were to travel for another hundred meters or so.

If… Instead, Xun skidded to a halt upon a thin bridge that connected the second stories of two adjacent buildings. Without a roof over their head, and without walls around them, the last few minutes of the day shone down and breathed a bit more life into them. Though Xun made the most of this rest, indulging in it the same way they bathed in the last light. The blue wayfarer stepped toward the stone railing, leaned forward and folded their arms upon it, letting out a delightful sigh of harmonic—

A small weight fell from their cloak, over the edge, and they even saw it plop into the sand-filled street below. “Oh bloody hell,” they muttered to themselves, shaking their head. Deep and meaningful occasions aside, they were going to need a better, more secure pouch inside their cloak for packages. They hadn’t ever lost one, but having to backtrack every time they realised they had dropped one wasn’t exactly the best use of time.

————

The blue wayfarer had stopped on a bridge, giving him plenty of time (with a few small leaps) to close the distance. He’d find out sooner than he’d expected what they thought they were doing. Durante wasn’t sure what to make of them from this distance, and wasn’t familiar with the newer acolytes like he probably should be to pinpoint any details. He had thought he heard laughter and shouts on the wind, but faint enough to suggest he was simply imagining them in the sounds of the city settling.

Durante pulled himself up sharp as something fell from the other wayfarer, a tiny, dark shape against the sunlight. He slid a bit further on momentum, but then with a quick boost changed direction and glided to a darkened alcove. He peeked out and up, to see if he’d been spotted. They were still standing there, and weren’t poised as if to run. He hadn’t been close enough yet.

Durante let out a sigh of relief, catching his scarf to shove behind him as the whistling winds tried to pull it back out into the open. If he kept his scarf held tightly to himself, he should be able to slide a little closer under cover of the buildings’ eaves.  It was a risk given how near the other wayfarer was, but even if he was spotted, there’d be a confrontation no matter what.

The desert seemed so, so much larger without the glow of lamps or the silhouette of Edge-of-Tide for reference. Cadfael had walked so far that the only things to see were dunes and faint stars on the far horizon. A dune was a dune was a dune, but he’d been taught how to read the sky. Without those stars he’d be completely lost, and as things stood he was only mostly.

Night fell gracelessly, the sand beneath his feet rapidly cooling from their usual sun-baked heat. The moon was mostly dark, leaving him in blurry shadows. He paused a moment to light his lamp, then hefted it over his shoulder again. There wasn’t a schedule Cadfael had to adhere to, but he was too excited by the prospect of finding the city to sleep.

He crested the next dune, found only a sea of dunes beyond, and so crouched in the sand to check his bearings. He wasn’t as good as his teachers, but between the unchanging, distant mountain light to the left and the guiding stars, Cadfael could make sure that he was still heading in a westerly direction.

He glanced up a moment to gauge the positioning – was that a hint of blue? It was hard to tell in the gloom. Cadfael squinted at the shape, then straightened. Had Beatrice sent somebody else? He hadn’t been gone that long, he though. What if she just didn’t think he could do it? He had to send them back, because he totally could if he had the chance.

Frantically Cadfael gathered up his stuff and slid down into the trough between dunes. It was harder to run up the other side than if he’d been walking, but he didn’t want to miss them. His lamp swung wildly on its pole as he ran along the top of the dune.

“Hey! Hey! Hello!” he called out across the sand, waving his shawl like a flag, bright blue cloak flapping behind him.

——-

Ka’aki had been traversing the desert on her daily walk about the area. It had been months since she had given up the search for her family, and now she only patrolled the dunes within sight of her oasis home. She feared she might lose that home too, if she wandered off too far.

Her stride wasn’t as playful as it usually was. Today it seemed as though her inner beat wasn’t strong, and she couldn’t help but miss her family a bit more than she oft did. Ka’aki didn’t even bother to dance across the flatter parts of her walk, and she always danced. Sighing, she gave up and headed back to her home.

Next to the small pool of water was a hanging structure made of cloth, held up by a strong vine that connected two palms. Vibrant colors shone from the cloth in the desert sun, reflecting the majority of the heat away. inside the cloth tent was a large mat with a chest and a small table, where Ka’aki kept her tradeable goods, food, and outfits. She didn’t have a lock however, and paid heed whenever strangers approached her home.

She had taken her walk far later than she usually did, and the sun began to set as she headed back. Entering her home, Ka’aki closed off the cloth door as best she could and decided to turn in early for the night. She wasn’t hungry and was feeling too down to stay awake and practice dance steps.

Unfortunately she was restless and her attempts to sleep were fruitless. Ka’aki sat up and opened up her old journal, flipping to a blank page and grabbing a small piece of charcoal. She simply wanted a way to pass the time until she was tired enough to sleep. And that was when she heard a distant voice. Ugh it’s too late for trading….. she thought, flicking her ear toward the noise.