[ closed. ] to those who loved this world, and knew friendly company therein—

[evanescent]

WHO: Aerith Gainsborough & various
WHEN: Aeveuer
WHERE: Dreamland
WHAT: Memory share event
WARNINGS: Warnings will be placed in the toplevels that warrant it. General blanket warning for violence and child endangerment/experimentation & human experimentation though.

[The mirror you face is ornate, cast in a frame of golden wood that has been carefully carved in the visage of lilies. More details become clear the closer you get — more carvings of interlocking vines and flowers. On the bottom of this framed mirror is the carved image of two greatswords, crossed over one another. On the top, in the center, is a glowing circular gem, smooth and facetless, inlaid in the center of a carving that looks very much like a ribbon. The closer you get to the mirror, the more you begin to see it — tendrils of aquamarine light in the same color of that jewel, that ripple at the surface, like a lake disturbed by a stone.

Though it seems inexplicable, you think you hear birdsong.]

[ooc: starters below. if you'd like a starter featuring any of these memories or anything else, hit me up on godsibb @ plurk or send me a PM.]

Comments

[extirpator]

[ the feeling is not a foreign one to him. it's the feeling of life taking you into its hands and offering you to the wind; brisk and easy, but melancholy in the way all ends were. it's a cycle, a beautiful kind of roticity that produces everything from nothing, the two forces breaching the divide and meeting time and time again.

he had been accustomed to the darkness rather than light. it's bright and beautiful, shredding through the ribbons of ebony he'd known so well. he is swimming through memories, through lives that stretch beyond the fabric of time, and for the first time during his stay here, he feels at home as sleeping beauty rather than nier.

Aerith? he says, stopping as he allows the current to ferry him along.

This is what comes after the end, isn't it? ]

[evanescent]

[Even in her memories, this is a long way to travel, goes beyond the surface in a way very few have been able to breach. And so her response comes after a long while, echoing in this empty space, the light pulsing in time to her voice.

Yes. This is the end, and the beginning.

Somewhere, distantly, there's the sound of footsteps echoing against tile, or stone. But then that sound fades into nothing as well.

This is where I went, in the end. And this is where I've been since.]