Conversation Space IV.

[powersthatbe]

The small room is painted a dark beige, with stained wood paneling on the lower half, and lush burgundy carpeting. The ceiling, however, is cracked and bowed, sagging alarmingly, occasionally shedding chips of plaster. Wrought-iron lamp-posts in the corners suspend pale, wan globes of light, and between them along the walls run rows of painted sunflowers, all turned towards the center of the room as if listening attentively. A jutting spire of granite rises from the floor on a diagonal, its flattened top sporting a cracked wineglass from which the wine (a white) slowly spatters teardrops across the plinth. And there is no chair, but a therapist’s couch, blue with gold trim, and ornate scrollwork on the legs, beside which the fluted horn of a phonograph player pipes music into the room, quiet enough to just be background ambience.

Comments

[callmemeibe]

"That is all I can ask of thee," they answer patiently, though they seem to be waiting to see if there will be any further questions.

[venetianprince]

"My last question," Feliciano says after a moment's thought.

"What, if anything, would you never want us to do?"

[callmemeibe]

"Sully my virtues. Breed chaos and deceit which is anathema to me. Deny who you are, and what I represent. That is what I never wish you to do."

[venetianprince]

Feliciano listens quietly, before nodding. "I understand. I'll do my best," he murmurs, finally letting himself relax and settle down. "So is- is this it? Is this the only time we'll get to speak with you...?"

[callmemeibe]

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It is usually ill-advised to interrupt the path of one's Chosen, as it could... bring one's victory into question, should one win." They frown, displeased at the thought. "But I can speak to my Chosen, indirectly, through the Mark."

[venetianprince]

"Oh! Through the mark... then we'll be okay," Feliciano chirps, perking up. "Ah, mine's on my back, though, so I guess I'll have to check it more often," he says brightly, feeling a little better. If he's playing a game, it'd help to have a coach, so to speak. Even if the coach can only speak through vague metaphysical messages.

[callmemeibe]

"It matters little. You will know when I require something of thee, Chosen."

[venetianprince]

"Alright," Feliciano chirps, perking up and nodding. "Thank you. Ah, is calling you Judgment okay, or do you have another name you'd prefer?" he asks after a moment, before looking sheepish and laughing softly. "Last question for real this time, I promise!"

[callmemeibe]

"I have chosen Penuel to be my name, this round. You may use it or the laymen's term for me," they answer simply, giving a soft shrug of their shoulders as if to indicate their indifference toward monikers in general.

[venetianprince]

Feliciano smiles then, finally feeling his curiosity satisfied. "Grazie~! I'll do my best, Penuel."

[callmemeibe]

Penuel nods, and Feliciano finds himself deposited back in Liminal Space in a puff of pure white feathers.