blueteamnovel 630. An Ensemble Arrives At The Foot of Paradise
630. An Ensemble Arrives At The Foot of Paradise
630. An Ensemble Arrives At The Foot of Paradise
“The wind brings disturbing news.”
Fluctuations from the direction of Paradise wrinkled the funeral suits of several skull-faced men. An ensemble of the Memento Mori, Sect of Gears, Crimson Hunger, Librarians, and the Blood Festival arrived from a putrid amalgamation of gears.
It moved like mechanical worm. Interlocking gears ran across its body as it rose from the desolate ruins behind them like a spire, before diving majestically back into the soil. Each individual gear was easily five times larger than a normal human, granting it an imposing presence that lurked beneath the cracked ground.
Tremors followed the ensemble.
“Can the message be believed?”
The decrepit voice of an entity, which caused the heads of other Memento Mori members to bow in respect, made themselves known. Smoke vented from his mouth, tumbling behind his shoulders like a mantle.
“Or do we suggest that our soon-to-be Stars take matters into their own hands?”
He was the same member of the Memento Mori that appeared in the City of Spades. White gloves, a silver skull, and a hat. His leather soles clopped as he passed through a small legion of similarly attired members, save that their masks were darker, and their fingers were thinner for they lacked flesh.
Their ties were also red unlike his which was black, signifying his rank above them. In truth, the Memento Mori was highly flexible with no real hierarchy aside from their leader and subsequent Hearts.
They were called Ankous; beings of skeletal remains but holding dearly onto the hope of life.
His name was Hypnos.
“Answer me not. There is no greater disrespect than to make such foolish suggestions.”
“It has been ordained. By the Orloj directly.” Vibrations turned into broken sentences. “Our own director. Seeker of Stars.”
The gears of the Clockwork Spindleworm had uttered these words from underneath them. It reverberated through their bones as they set their sights to the crater of unworldly proportions.
“A message directly from the Orbis Impuritas of the Sect of Gears?” A monotone yet cheerful voice accompanied them. “All this desperation to find our Star’s lost Lenore. So it can be lost, nevermore.”
A man with grey hair pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose which was shaped like the beak of a raven.
The Expositionist explained in an aside as they walked southwards that Infernis’ was swallowed into the layers of Elysia one day, without warning or reason. It simply ceased to exist. The crater was the only reminder of its existence, as were the pale gates further north that bled.
“The winds confirm their presence. It’s weakened now. But they were certainly here moments ago.” Raven confirmed the suspicion of Hypnos, who was able to sense the smallest fluctuations of death.
“Meaning our pallid purveyors have been destroyed. The Markers. Living beings that clung to life despite their horrid state. How unacceptable, that in our lives of unattainable things we don’t even possess the power to decide to remain.”
He worded a long, philosophical muse, breathing smoke which created illusions when one peered into them. Ghosts of the old pranced where rotting trees once stood. And from the smoke emerged blackened ooze shaped into flailing humanoids with tendrils.
They took a more solid form, each representing how they had died in the past. Most gurgled blackened water as they were hung from the leg and made to float upside down.
A red stone was wrapped on their ankles, somehow serving as a balloon as their frowns were turned to smiles. A small, black cloud also however above them. Where they arose was the dried-up crevice which was once a flourishing river.
Others had broken legs but floated like specters.
“Death by nine point eight.” He commented sorrowfully.
Decaying bodies followed him, as did a march of crimson monstrosities behind the Monarch.
“In the bleakness of all things, they called the nihilism and course of life our ‘Death Drive’. Plague us it will not. Come forth, sorrowful shades. Accompany us across this mournful River Ordeal that confronts all. Whether here...”
His hollow eyes fell onto the great spire of Paradise, long before the walls of millions of Markers entered his vision.
“... or elsewhere. Is it not in the Amalgam’s interest to facilitate Eros in the hearts of those who have already been forgotten?”
He spoke condemningly of the Amalgam, but oddly not in the same ravenous manner as other Impuritas did. After all, the Memento Mori did not believe that the true enemy was the Amalgam as the rest so zealously believed.
Rather, it was the Ateliers that they feared the most, for it was they who churned the lives of countless.
“Hearts, at the very least, repurpose what’s left of us.” He uttered.