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No title.
(2014-04-01 - 2014-04-01)
No description.
Chita So much happening, so little time.

What is it with rabbits and too little time?

Only there was no pocketwatch with this particular flop-eared party, it was a self-imposed timeline of 'Not enough' that kept him pushing so hard to try and find answers here, and now, before worse things(tm) happened. His failure with keeping Rhiannon imprisoned, his failure to end her life when he had so many chances, his failure to contain her research before it got delivered, to someone named Garland unless coincidences were too high and this didn't feel like such to him.

Normally Chita knew only so much, and that seemed an amount he could work with. It let him plan, it let him try to play the hero, it let him /try/ to have some semblance of ability to keep others safe. Now? He has nothing to grasp. Just the twisted results of a failed prototype of the Heartless Weapon project of Rhiannons and a vague idea of three routes to go. Maester Yo Mika, a Castle of Memories... and a man named Garland.

Despite saying he was going to check on the castle, Chita's goals took him to a detour first, deciding to look into the man named Garland while he tried to determine whom he should ask with him to the Castle. ... if he even asked anyone. He needed somewhere to learn, somewhere to research. What better place than a village of mages he heard about some time ago? A town where learning is what those there do, and despite it being for the purposes of magic... surely they must also have a great many tomes and information on history. Did Garland come from their world? Did he not? Did he come from any world? Had to, somewhere. Somewhen...

The Vieran Judge was currently standing insie the village by the waterfall as he waited for one of the townsfolk he spoke to when first coming in to get back with him regarding whom he should speak with about his query. At the moment he was wearing a nice set of black slacks and a pink dress shirt, a not-quite-matching pair of shoes on his feet. That, and at his side a peace-bound weapon tied into the makeshift 'scabard' composed of leather ties to keep him from drawing it. One hand rested on the hilt of it, the sword parallel to the ground as he quietly stood there, not looking at anyone in particular. At least, visibly, considering he had a blindfold of black silk wrapped around his eyes, blind to anyone whom he had not informed that his connection to the sword allowed him limited sight through it. In truth he was watching a frog hop around, mind wondering if that was a real frog or someone who pissed off a mage.

Chita di not like magic much.
Garland Every second, people are born and people die. Every minute, some new event threatens to change the tapestry of the universe, only to be counteracted by another event elsewhere. Every hour, the potential for the end of the world spikes, only to fall again. Every day, the world changes, but in truth, in the grand tapestry of all time, nothing truly changes - the shapes may shift, the names may be different, but the patterns are always the same. There are oh so few, however, who have that sort of perspective on the tapestry of time - so few who have that special combination of age and vision and power and will to see into the depths of reality and understand it not as a part of it but as one beyond it.

Chita could be forgiven for imagining that time is finite, because from the inside, at the radius of perception, it must be overwhelming.

The mages of Mysidia are kind, however. They offer Chita access to their libraries easily, to research as he pleases. They are gentle men and women, to whom the Tapestry of Time is contained in their records. The mages fancy themselves outside that ever-whirling pattern, recorders and observers whose duty is to learning first and all else second. They believe that, because they are neutral, they are exempt from its passage. They believe that, because they have access to one of the greatest stores of history, they can see the patterns it forms. They repeat platitudes like 'those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it', as if they could possibly *know* history. They cannot. Only one who has lived history could *know* history.

Garland has lived history. Garland has lived for far longer than any being should. It has given him a most unique perspective, one that other, smaller beings cannot possibly comprehend. For Garland, the world stretches out before him, and its patterns are simple and easy to understand through the Enlightenment that he has won across the countless aeons.

The Samsara Of Battle.

The villager Chita awaits will be seeking the knowledge requested of him for a very long time. There is little information on the ancient demigod - what little there is is misinformation, spread by Garland's spies intentionally to hide the truth.

The truth is so much worse.

Space and time tear open as Garland steps out of the Corridors of Darkness next to the waterfall. Chita would feel his presence instantly - a suffocating Darkness, a physical presence like the sound of an explosion or the light from a star up close. Garland is a yawning Abyss, a chasm of evil from which there is no escape for those who fall into its depths, and he leapt into the chasm willingly and now waits for others foolhardy or brave enough to follow.

Garland stands, his armor and cape without noise despite the weight they must surely bear. He is within striking distance of Chita, though his stance is not an aggressive one. He is silent, his terrible red eyes roving across Chita, twin pinpricks like the inside of a scanner dissecting the rabbit thoughtfully. Finally, a rumbling voice echoes forth from the helmet.

"I am Garland."

He says nothing more.
Chita Frogs weren't really Chita's thing. They didn't really bother him, though. They were alive, they had just as much right to be here as he did, at least far as he was concerned. Only... suddenly the frog went to jump, and into the water it went. The frog was the smart one in this case. That sudden presence and passage caught Chita by surprise enough that he didn't actually move, able to see perfectly well through the weapon, not needing to turn to see such. His blind spot was the /other/ side, and close to his body. Where the weapon could not see -through- him.

Yet when that figure stepped through, the familiar armor and chill, Chita recalled him quite quickly from Baron. Baron, the night he lost his sight. So hard to forget something like that. When Garland stepped out fully, it was then that Chita turned towards him and his grip on the sword shifted, no longer resting with the palm over the 'pommel' of the nobody symbol so much as coming to let his fingers loosely slip around the 'guard' of the weapon, the handle pointed towards Garland now so he could properly see without any strange gaps in his 'sight'.

Would Garland be surprised that when the portal closed behind him, Chita nodded his way once almost respectfully? Would he realize that it wasn't fear, or awe that caused him to do such so much as general respect? Chita was odd. Not to say he wasn't quite freaked out, but his manner of greeting was simply how he was. There was no reason to be rude, or confrontational to anyone even if they are seemingly about to crush him with a stare. He shared tea with Maleficent. Garland at least deserved a proper nod first. Before he could even question who he was, Garland spoke and Chita actually let out a small laugh. A mixture of everything falling into place, as well as the comedy of the situation. He came here to try and research this fellow whom he was unsure of, and suddenly here said being is, and now a lot more makes sense.

"Thank you for answering my query. Well, one of them." Primarily, who or what WAS Garland, the name. Him being here answered a lot. All that was left was pleasantries. There was always room for pleasantries. "Lady Maleficent is well I hope. I have not heard much of her doings for some time now."
Garland Garland didn't care one way or another how people reacted to him. Some had bravado - the willpower to look him in the eye for a scant moment before breaking that horrible gaze before they fall into the abyss of his helmet. Most people trembled and quailed. He had met all kinds in his endless life - very little surprised him these days.

Chita's pleasantries are allowed to flow over him like water over a rock. Garland does not respond to the pleasantries. He does not bow politely, nor nod respectfully. He simply cuts to the chase, slicing through the pleasantries as his shadows sliced through the air.

"Few seek Garland without knowledge of my face," Garland rumbles at the rabbit. His voice is as bleak and terrible as his presence, as black and cold as the void between the stars. It is also dreadfully businesslike - detached and uncaring, without a hint of the curiousity that drew him forth. It is distant, as though Garland spoke from a thousand miles away, as though the world around him was not something he particularly cared to be for. Indeed, it seems that the world does not particularly care for him - there is a *wrongness* about him, a subtle violation of all that should be, and the world seems as though his mere presence causes it some greater pain. The animals stray away from him, flowers and grass attempt to bend the opposite direction...subtle, quiet, but noticeable to those who pay attention. It is as if Garland is a wound in the world itself.

"What business do you have with me?"
Chita Nothing was said until Garland finally asked his question, Chita not noticing the smaller things if only because he was focused on Garland through the sword itself. Sure, he could 'see' the grass, and everything around, but that wasn't what he was focused on. It was still strange, even to Chita himself. Seeing in that fashion. "My business with you... is this." His voice was soft as, with one hand, he worked on undoing the bindings that held the sword in place. It took him several moments to do such, and while he did, he spoke.

"Unless there is another named Garland whom is dealing with Keyblades of Darkness that feed upon hearts... which I assume given my limited knowledge of the byproduct I hold now is that they are a heartless in truth, somehow... you tasked a woman named Rhiannon Zellen with researching such." Finally the binding was undone and Chita raised the weapon in front of him, not in a challenge, but sideways and in clear sight. He was pretty certain that even this ... thing that was Garland, entity, had not actually seen the weapon yet. Did he even care? Was it a failure, or simply another possible result? Chita did not truly know himself.

"Her research is now delivered, either to you, or another who is dealing these weapons. I wish to see an end to these damnable creations, and all the knowledge that has come of the research. I wish to get that research, look for a way to reverse the weapons out of existence, and that knowledge itself. And, if possible, use that research instead to restore these broken worlds to how they were."

What point was there in attempting to hide the obvious truth. Anyone could see Chita was no power-hungry villain. He wasn't out to get the darkness for himself, or to make any more deals with entities of power for the sake of doing the right thing. He learned his lesson, he paid his price... he was however, still, blind in his pursuit of justice and the light. "I suppose, in effect, I seek to undo everything you have sought to do in relation to this madness."
Garland Garland listens. He is utterly still and utterly silent. It is unnerving - the lack of the telltale rise and fall of the chest, the lack of the rattle of metal against metal, the stillness of the cape and the armor and the eyes. There is absolutely no motion, no reflex, no automated processes. Everything about Garland is under Garland's control, under the titanic willpower that is Garland. Even his terrible presence is his to control, should he see fit. For now, he simply allows his power to spread outwards, resting across the area like a fell winter. Mysidian sages cross themselves or cast spells of protection at the ill omen. Some of them may even venture out to see what goes on.

Garland simply listens to Chita's words.

Finally, he speaks. His voice is devoid of anger - it is merely the same distant, mocking tone as before, the cold, echoing amusement.

"Knowledge can never be destroyed. It can be hidden, the web of shadows pulled across it to hide it from prying eyes. Those who seek it can be diverted, strung along as mere puppets on the string. But knowledge can never be destroyed by any force in this world - except one."

Garland's head snaps back towards Chita. "A secret can only be purged when every creature who holds its knowledge is slain. When every book has been burned, every database purged, every single thinking mind that has ever contained it brought low before that mind has a chance to record the knowledge again."

"Do you believe yourself capable of such a feat, little rabbit? Is your arrogance so mighty that you can stand here before Garland and imagine that you can slay him?"
Chita In turn listening to what was said, finally noticing the way the world seemed to step away from Garland so to speak, Chita did feel a bit lost. What was he supposed to do in the face of something like this? Hope, one of his strong suits, blind optimism, was something he was slowly losing in the moment. Garland had several points, the primary one being, that in the end... could he even do it? Did he think himself capable of doing it?

Finally, several long moments after Garland stopped speaking and had made his place clear, Chita shook his head. "Likely not." Even without Hades' curse keeping him from deceiving himself, he knew full well he had no chance. "Just like I doubt I ever have the might to stand against others of similar nature, such as Maleficent. Fear has long since kept me in check, kept me from even using what strength of my own I have. It is not going to suddenly vanish. I know this. My bold recklessness in attempting to deal with this hideous research is simply me closing my eyes to the fear I have, of failure, of death. I waste time, I try to reason away why I cannot do something, even though I know in my heart it is simply my own fear."

The weapon was shifted and slid back into place by his side, not rebinding it for the moment. "But I will not give up in my efforts. I still intend to find a way to do this... even if it means going through you somehow. Because I have let my fear control me... live my life for me... for too long, I have only failed repeatedly. Perhaps it would amuse you to set me on a path that would put me closer to my goals, then, as ultimately they will still lead back to you, Lord Garland. Grant me access to that knowledge, and I shall see if the sun, stars and moon align in my favor. Even if I cannot destroy it, knowledge is power... and that is a task I am arrogant enough to think I can handle. I am arrogant enough to think that, given the chance, I can find a way to stop your plans... whatever they are."
Garland Garland laughs. He laughs, long and hard. It is a laugh without kindness, without love, without joy or delight. It is a cold, cruel, mocking laugh, just as his voice is cold and cruel and mocking, a laugh that is almost a parody of joy, a sick and twisted inside-out laugh as bleak and terrible and empty as a wasteland. He laughs, and laughs, and continues to laugh, until abruptly he cuts himself off.

"Oh, yes. I have no doubt. You and you alone will see to this task, will you? You will rise up and be hailed as a hero for tearing down the great Darkness, a *true* hero of the Light. Uncompromising, fearless!"

"The words come easily to you, little rabbit," Garland's voice drops to a mere hiss, "They roll from your tongue like honeyed wine, words far older than you, spoken by others far more worthy than you. I have heard them more countlessly than you could ever imagine. Even I can speak those words, little rabbit - even I can be a hero, if I so choose."

"But do you mean them?" He hisses, "Do you understand what it means to fear? Do you understand what it means to doubt yourself? What it means to fail?, I think you do not."

"You have decided upon a zealous path, little rabbit. To be without fear is to be certain. To be without fear is to be all-knowing. Even the bravest of men cower at my gaze, for they know that fear is wisdom, wisdom to be heeded. The greatest of Heroes fears. You have turned yourself into naught but a tool." Garland's eyes swing down to the blade for a moment, then back up.

Garland straightens and waves his hand to the side. "If you fear nothing, if you doubt nothing, then I will put that to the test. Perhaps you will learn something, if you have the capacity to pull the trigger."

"I will give this knowledge to children, little Viera. Innocent, kind-hearted children, embedded with the knowledge of the Dark Keyblade I have designed on the research of that curious girl. I will pass it into as many children as I see fit - let us say thirteen, no more, no fewer - and I will tell you their names."

"And then I will sit back and watch, and see if you are truly willing to do what must be done to eradicate knowledge."

Garland turns away from Chita. "I look forward to seeing if you have such a strong heart."
Chita The brief moment of confidence in himself was quickly cut away and Garland began to speak, making it quet clear that Chita's mouth had gotten him into a not-quite-good situation yet again. Yet, the further he spoke, the more he became aware of what Garland intended... especially since Garland said it himself, clearly. He gave him access to the knowledge he asked for...

Just not how he desired it.

There was a small throaty sound from Chita before he choked the frustration and anger back, silent entirely even as Garland turned away. Sure, Chita could lash out, attempt in vain to strike Garland down... but what good would that do? Petulance, at best. Garland had given him exactly what he wanted. A chance to gain that knowledge. Or so it seemed. For the first time in a while, the Viera stayed entirely quiet, letting Garland be on his way and doing nothing to stop him. Nothing at all. If he was going to leave, there was no desire in the least to keep him there longer. But when would he find these names out... whose children would they be, and how would he even find them? Most importantly...

Who else is going to find out, if anyone. Will he need to keep them safe somehow, or does Garland truly mean to try and make him destroy them to get rid of that knowledge?

This scene contained 9 poses. The players who were present were: Garland, Chita