is currently employed and on the verge of starting classes at a community college. not only are they quite busy with these things, but they are also a freelance artist seeking commissions. please be patient and understand that roleplaying is merely a hobby.
Rosalind’s time spentas an omnipresent being hadn’t to do with taking a series of frivolous ventures in the cosmos she had now been familiar, but instead focused entirely upon the dynamics that meant further understanding. While these motives had been entirely selfish, it hadn’t been as though the undertaking inconvenienced anyone but her own self... But in this life, one which is seemingly void ofpurpose or any palpable change (had she chose so), satisfaction and consolation been in speculation and in turn, discovery. Though this would benefit no one but herself and her counter part, potentially. As of late, their uncanny perception had been rather b l u r r e d.
And so, she finds solace elsewhere… Particularly in a universe that is so unlike her prior– the array of life forms having developed and mutated into anatomical question marks… Almost resembling various sorts of insects. May certainly not have been favorable, worth the encounter.
A veil of death failed to leave her inanimate nor forgotten, the only altercations in their fall being their lack of tangibility and the rather prodigious disclosure of the cosmos and all secrets they’d bared. Answers to wonders that could never have been solved while alive had been at the ginger’s very fingertips, as had been phenomenons that she had never once conceived. SPACE AND TIME were no longer obstacles but instead, a tangle of stratum after stratum, the most insignificant of organisms and components alike going on to trigger and produce events that humankind had barely any grasp upon! Theories which were once mere notions of thought had been unfolding at the very seams and Rosalind, a woman marked by the utmost dedication toward the nature of solar system(s) and world(s).
She had been thankful, not simply for the rarity which kept her contemporary and her heightened perception but because she hadn’t been a l o n e . As he had with everything else, her counter part joined the Madam in death, though there had been minor disapproval of their current state of being. The only thing which held him in restraint being the surety of The Lamb’s prosperity and relocation from the universe they had once subdued her in. Lutece had grown sentimental, far more than she’d ever sought out to be, as a result a reluctant agreement had been made. It had involved but more universe hopping and obligations which Rosalind would meet, as promised… But this had been near fruitless, an experiment that would likely never flourish or result in any sort of positive outcome.
Yet, she advanced, devotion driving her toward his goal.
While it had been that the physicists were the cause of a great deal of commotion concerning the FALSE SHEPARD, there had been other happenings that included murder and unanticipated visitors in the floating utopia. One of the few being a familiar face and name, one which had been especially significant in Rosalind’s lives– both past and present. Alexia Ashford had been her name, a woman that had likely been strained with some form of grief after the redhead’s passing.
It would be after her death, that Lutece would welcome her back into the city made feasible by her creations.
Though her words rang true, his patience would hold a different match in this game they played, each move seemingly taking ages just to make meaningfully and wisely. He didn’t regret any of his actions thus far, a rarity indeed even for the likes of him, however he’d not be without questions on any of this, let alone going about without warning of more possible blood and chaos.
The twins themselves were a mystery shrouded in riddle most times though they certainly proved which side of the board they played on, each move and counter-move made via their aid, so perhaps not all was lost. Not yet.
“Sure, but it’d be a real generous idea if you gave proper tellin’ on where I should head to now. The Vox are on the move with all those guns they were after, but where’s my deal? Now I got no airship an’ no clue as to what I should be doin’.”
The fellow had been persistent, always going on to inquire as to which procedures he’s wonted to establish in a particular order… As though the very concept of his success had been determined on account of very distinct actions and the such. While it is true that the Lutece’s had come to witness a diverse set of solutions toward each and every sort of momentary crisis that’s presented itself… But it hadn’t been their responsibility to assist the False Shepard with every aspect of his very purpose in this world and the next.
Heavily relying upon them doesn’t benefit him as justly as he’d come to imagine. Always the fellow is to be on edge, dubious of whether he’d ever receive support, and thus, causing his prosperity to practically increase more so than he could ever begin to fathom.
“Mr. Dewitt,” having begun as though the very address was a signification of her relinquishment, “Our occasional service should seldom be recognized as an obligation on our part… This is quite the predicament on your hands, but we are quite sure that there are various manners which you could go about solving it.” Emphasis had been put on his person, before a hand raises to make all seemingly brusque.
“–Without our aid, in this instance. Fret not, if it is direly needed, we will not do as much as abandon.”
So what you’re saying is that nothing could exist without time being there in the first place? I suppose that makes sense, but if time were to just … stop one day, what would happen? Would everything freeze, or stop existing altogether?”
”Salutations, Miss Elizabeth. Your query is one which many still ponder and though I find reasonable confirmation to conclude just that, it only raises more reflections and uncertainty. A suspension in time would be a process that we would have no awareness of– whatsoever. Would ’everything’ persist to exist, if we ourselves,would have no recognition? “
“People say that time is a construct of human perception, but it just … doesn’t make sense to me. No ma- tter what name we give it, time will pass. It always exists, for if it didn’t, wouldn’t we all be just … frozen? No way to move forward, no rot or decay?”
“A title is nothing more and nothing less than that: a title. An inscription for a concept that many misinterpret in reassurance of their own, universally thought speculation… Had time nothing to do with these instances, they too, would cease to exist. As would aging, as would anything.”
Certainly bizarre thatshe had been to brush with the pest of afterlife, as so many often had indicated him as. However, it wasn’t that the Lutece’s had been aware of this ‘lore’ of sorts concerning the loiterers of the immortal state which blighted so many… They’d only taken him as a fellow which ought naught to be bothered with.
That had the ring of a trick question, particularly when it came from one of the Luteces. By default, Elizabeth leaned towards preferring the dawn; but if she made that choice aloud and found that it was contrary to Rosalind’s expectation, she’d make herself out as quite a fool. Was she meant to choose the darkness? Was there some symbolism here that she was failing to grasp? Lord, if the Luteces would only speak plainly! They were only leading Booker and Elizabeth in circles, tossing riddles out like empty bones and watching the dogs run to scrabble for nonexistent marrow.
And had Rosalind not just contradicted herself? “Do not hold hope where there is none,” she had said; and insofar as that, Elizabeth could grudgingly admit that the scientist might have a point. Hope was strong, but not unbreakable: with enough strain placed on it, even its stubborn bonds could snap. But then, in the same breath, Rosalind had gone on to say that the darkest hour came before the dawn; which, in Elizabeth’s mind, meant that the hour when hope is most justified matches the hour when it is hardest to keep hope alight. Which, then, was she to believe: that hope was not worth holding onto, or that it always was?
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her forehead and grunted out a sigh. Very well: if they would speak in riddles, so would she. In a quiet, uncertain voice, she said, “… both. I— prefer both. Darkness shows us the value of hope; and dawn gives us its reward. Each one is vital to the other, right?”
It had precisely been a trick question… In spite of Elizabeth’s constructivemindset along with those universe warping abilities, the probability that a beneficial outcome were to arise had been considerable. Nevertheless, this aisle may have been affected with certain aspects which presumably led toward a highly complex design and could therefore not be reasoned valuable in this experiment. The Lutece’s had one goal; to ensure an essential death and douse the flames in the most ‘subtle’ of manners. Both brother and sister have discussed the consequences thrust upon the DeWitt’s so unjustly, but neither had any other solution to a dilemma they had been unable to tend toward themselves. All enterprises held hazards and injustice, but these had been obligations under the belt of the FALSE SHEPARD and his LAMB.
A moral of such dismaying nature, it was only in experience that an individual could gather the data and rule their matters as futile. This has happened more often than once with various altering paths in this very experiment, but thus far, their procedures had been proven appropriate. There is no right or wrong interpretation toward her mentions… In fact, they did not anticipate one or the other but instead something vastly dissimilar. What had been needed to successfully execute tasks and dilemmas had been to interchange perspectives and then hypothesize.
Always had been such a clever lamb. ”See brother,“ the ginger begins as she directs a minor look toward her familiar, "It isn’t solely black and white. Hues of gray are easily comprehensible, as they should be.” An implied approval on her part, Rosalind readjusted her position to overlook the pair that sought answers– blatant and divulged, although these were nothing like the answers they have and were likely ever to receive.
Involuntarily, Elizabeth shivered. In days of the past, when she had known the Luteces only as the brilliant physicists who had authored some of her favourite books, she had held an immense admiration for the both of them—and, to some extent, this view still lingered: even in the face of her own current stress, Elizabeth couldn’t fail to recognize the genius of the twins. But it was becoming more difficult, with each passing second, to keep that knowledge fixed in mind. The Luteces, undeniably, were exceptional; but when they spewed their riddles, it was nearly impossible for Elizabeth to hold back a swell of frustration. However helpful the twins could be, their roundabout way of giving explanations was growing quite wearisome.
Beyond this, they had come to be positively unsettling. They had a way of nonchalantly appearing out of thin air wherever death was present: first, beside Chen Lin’s festering corpse, and again, digging their own graves in the Memorial Gardens’ cemetery. Who—or what—were they? Once, they had evidently been human; but now, Elizabeth couldn’t say with certainty that they’d remained so. Had they not, after all, died years ago? What did that leave them as? Ghosts, perhaps—or something even less earthly.
Elizabeth slowly stroked the stained fabric of her bolero, trying to brush away the goosebumps that had risen on her flesh. With a shake of her head and a hard swallow, she replied, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
Elizabeth had failed to be the sole individual who singularly felt this way for the pair of physicists… Most every relation which had been constructed and had been perceptibly prospering had been pronounced by slight exasperation (before and after, it had been all the same). This sentiment though, failed to induce discouragement in Rosalind and would likely not be the cause to a falter in her demeanor either. While they had assuredly fulfilled their purpose of ‘helping when they are needed’, to simply go about and give explicit direction would only result in divergence… The Dewitt’s knew what needed to be executed and they could configure what path to take on their very own– all that was imperative is that the Lutece’s ensure that the correct methods would be carried out (it had been too far in the experiment to alter their procedures).
To call them apparitions would only be that of a jab or an insult since so often it is remarked that the very creatures had strictly been animate due to a web of various, weaklysentiments (more often than not, remorse). While there had been unfinished business that they had currently been tending, it had not been in a manner that a shadow might carry out. All they had been good for were spooks and pity. Amelia had been well versed in such things and to recognize her as the term was much more fitting than of the omnipresent beings… It was an inevitable lesson that the lamb would soon learn.
“Do not hold hope where there is none– it is always darkest before the dawn. Which of the two, do you prefer? ”
Her confidant. An unexpected confirmation from the physicist, but one that cause greyed lips to curl and crack as golden eyes shifted to focus on her present company. ”Ah - ‘tis a symptom of the virus. It mutates the host - those who have not had sufficient time to adapt - into monstrous creatures. Regarding myself, there are three forms of mutation. This is simply the first - a preferred one of mine, when compared to the other two, though the power increases with each new stage.”
Even now, the metal casing of the bullets that had strayed into flesh were luminescent, heated in the walls of her skin and glowing a vibrant orange against the monotone colours of her form. “I assure you, there is nothing to worry about, Rosalind. There is something…liberating, about this form.” The spindly branches once slender fingers gestured to sit beside her.
Brows incidentally found themselves knotted. Although there was assurance, the redhead found herself considerably anxious since this state, despite being robust by her standards, would be operated for nothing other than demolition. One could only wonder the tiers that were involved in this said mutation and whether that same level of sanity found in her regularly had remained conscious in these unnatural archetypes.
"Icould only imagine what that must be like.“ Partially implying the the most evident aspect to her being; the lack of dress. Concealed in these words had been her own yearning to sever herself from an origin that would remained unnamed as of now. Deliverance had been granted in their dissolution, but Logos thirsted for more. "I would be most somber if the odds aren’t in your favor, dear Alexia.” Acceding in this gesture, Lutece approaches with hues concentrated along the dim illumination provided by attempted carnage.
