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.
❝I see… We truly are a race of titles, then, aren’t we? Our version of answers is attaching names, definitions, words ––❞
Sixty, she thinks as flame crawls up his arms years away from now.
❝Yet no matter the name, he will still burn, or drown, or hang, or bleed. Is there truly no way to stop this––––– this continuum?❞
How many times has this R. Lutece seen her? Twelve on Elizabeth’s end, but it’s al- ways different on the other.
The lady doesn’t convey any signs of agreement or even objection for that matter, all that the girl may be able to read through the callous simper is that these comments had been thought provoking… Entertaining, amusing, so on.
“Putting a continuum to rest is rather redundant, isn’t it?”
Superfluous and futile, that had been the conclusion from an omnipotent’s perception– one which had incomprehensible recognition for the cosmos and the manner in which it’s managed.
“Cleaning the slate of one’s existence entirely is an ambitious task that an individual will never have the opportunity of fulfilling ordinarily…” Emphasize expressed upon the term ‘ordinarily’ which ought to reflect that this characteristic had been far from what they both had been as of now.
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.”
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? ”
An angel was what the citizens of Columbia once revered her as. Some ultimate holy being, some young girl made up of alabaster and purity, untainted and innocent. Yet no longer could she call herself that—the carmineichor of her enemies had dyed any purity that was contained in her very being. Unlike her father, the Lamb could come to terms with her unholy actions and doings. She could not lie about them. However, while she cannot call herself a true angel, she is a herald of sorts. In her wake she does bring justice and righteousness, a true definition of a harbinger of her morality.
Zachary Comstock’s existence in the cosmos goes against her very beliefs. A man purely made up of malevolence should have no right to continue his existence—nor should he be granted the right to destroy other girls just as he did with her. Although in this final timeline it was not her who had fallen victim to him again, she could simply not allow him to destroy another girl who was not his to begin with. He had no right to.
It is only frustration now that consumes her very being—ire aimed towards herself for not seeing this very loophole. With infinite knowledge and sight, she had simply been blind. How ironic.
“The goal of Booker’s death was to forever halt the destructiveness that is Comstock— if Comstock is still alive, then he is still destroying the lives of innocent girls. Neither I or Booker can allow for this to happen.”
And while there is a part of her that wants to make her very father’s death purposeful, there is another part of her that is seeking for revenge. Revenge against the man who had caused her so much pain, who had lied to her, stole her childhood—she wanted him permanently erased, and she would do it herself if she had to.
“I will do whatever it takes to stop him, Miss Lutece.”
Not even death can cease her desire to wreak havoc onto Zachary Hale Comstock.
Recognition had been what the Comstock’s bared, but had the credit been for the appropriate reasons? Zachary had been deemed a Prophet, the link betweenmortals and deities, but as of yet, the fellow failed to prove validity. What he preached had been nothing less than unhallowed malice– truly the worst of men. Amelia had been nothing more than strumpet sporting prayer beads, convinced that obedient conduct would do more than obliterate her prior self. Finally there had been Elizabeth, sanctioned as the defenseless, fragile lamb whose mind would topple, skewed, if led down the road of sacrilege. All had proven themselves contradictory to their characters.
Whether or not he held the right, that alone would cease to obliterate his very being. What had been necessary was that which the Lutece twins would refuse to carry out themselves… Both Rosalind and Robert had thoroughly and successfully performed the objective and have since been ‘at peace’– a harmonial condition they ought to have been permitting since death.
"To fulfill your devotion to Comstock’s eradication, it would require you to encounter him in a world which you are not familiar. What you are accustomed toward will be vastly diverse, peculiar to the eye at first glance. What you will provide is admonition– a man whom remains unaware of what he’s wrought will bring no comfort. As of now, he is Mr. DeWitt, living his revival with repressed memory of your… Failed acquirement.“
No, there would be no depth provided by the physicist’s of the Lamb’s unfortunate incident (well, the child which hadn’t the pleasure of growing into the same woman that confronted her as of now). The Lutece woman would not contribute. Elizabeth had been far too emotionally driven, a characteristic that both her sibling and her had in common.
”If by chance your well being is fractured and you perish within the submerged city, all you are left is a sole opportunity as that of a frail human. A condition as this, would only be awaiting carnage.“
What simply was the point? Booker DeWitt’s sacrifice had one purpose and one purpose only: to eradicate him and Comstock from the cosmos entirely. Yet that had been in vain. The man he so very loathed, the man he wanted to smother to death (even if it meant at the cost of his own life), still lived. It took one hundred and twenty three attempts to successfully halt this destructive cycle, where little girls are sold and stolen, and locked away up into giant towers, and brainwashed and molded to be someone they are not. His drowning was to protect her—his daughter—from the monstrosity of a man taking the name of Zachary Hale Comstock. His actions were not out of selfish desires, but rather selfless ones. All he sought for was her safety. Nothing more and nothing less.
But they had failed. They had miscalculated. The Lamb had thought that if Booker were to die before he was ever bestowed with the choice (be born anew with the Holy Waters of Baptism? or stay under the name of the immoral man who has slain the innocent?), then the choice could never be made. And if the choice could never be made, then the divergence of Zachary Hale Comstock from Booker DeWitt would never happen. And thus, his existence would be naught—except there had been a loophole. He still existed.
It simply was not fair—his death had done nothing. All he had wanted was to obliterate the Prophet from time and space itself, and he had failed. His death wish was not granted. The drowning, the suffering had done nothing in the long run, because the Prophet still lived. And that fact alone made the Lamb’s stomach churn.
“You’ve only decided now to tell me this?”
Her timbres are dipped and painted in ire and rage. And rightfully so should she be angry.
“Booker’s death had been futile, Miss Lutece. He simply died for nothing if Comstock still exists. I cannot— allow for his death to be pointless.”
What most failed to comprehend was that the possibilities of divergence had been inevitable– even when this ’experiment’ so to say, had still been in development, R. Lutece had been aware of miscalculations (not on say her part, but those whom found themselves involved). Even a tenuous transition could result in contradictory reactions… The girl had been informed but e m o t i o n had a way of creating variations. In this case her wrath and anguish thoroughly drove her, just as it had with Amelia Comstock some time ago.
"There is an influx of doors which can be opened with a mere twist of the knob, but there exists others which are impassible for certain periods of time. Simply because I had been competent of the various realities which concerned Comstock does not mean I had disregarded those which we hadn’t affected in the way we had the majority.“ Lutece stares in return, the one scheme which had been edging into conversation practically trickling within her distant set of eyes. Elizabeth had been an individual she cared something for, but this vague fondness would hold no honest significance as of now. What she’d set on had been the well being of one whom she would obliterate from the cosmos by any means necessary.
”Mr. DeWitt had not died for nothing nor will he have died for nothing. What you seek is a means of abolishing this man ultimately… I’m sure that you will disregard my warnings once I provide you with a solution for this complication.“ Robert had not been fond of the concept, but whether he had been content with what she offered Elizabeth or not, it would be done.
Compliance came at a cost– he would educated.
Shifting her visage through only minor aspects, the brusque manner in which she revealed the catch signified a certain downfall. Only watering it down with word choice that would induce minor hope.
”To operate indicates you mustcompromise with dismal odds.“
The definition of a word is always the story that creates the word for your character, so put a "Define ______" in my ask to hear how they learned that concept.
rob·ber·y noun The felonious taking of the property of another from his or her person or in his or her immediate presence, against his or her will, by violence or intimidation.
Robbery didn’t constitute as the retrieval of Comstock’s lamb. It had been fair trade. Albeit it hadn’t been exactly fair by definition, that was at the fault of Mr. Dewitt, if anything. Regardless of how she felt, this had logically been truth.
Though it may be she does find remorse to what had been carried out via her hand, what is done is done. To attempt change would only set off a chain reaction of repercussions which conceivably would result in turmoil. Robert had been the only one to display blatant guilt over their previous conduct and sought revelation in reconstruction… Better than anyone he comprehended the effects which would come about if he continued, but that did not cause any obstruction.
”The unauthorized recovery of an object,” glancing over the girl momentarily, she corrects herself inevitably. “Or in some cases, an actual organism. The reason for this being that the captor or the one directing the assignment will find the object or organism beneficial to their own life or another’s… Though this can potentially establish positive influence, the majority of the time, it doesn’t.”
The Lamb would know what kind of variability could occur from door to door. To her pleasure, she had noted that between some universes, things were nearly identical, albeit the minor differences that forcibly set them apart. And yet in other instances, a small change could effortlessly cause two similar universes to completely diverge from one another. Sometimes those changes had led to a gracious ending, yet it mostly conduced to chaos and discord, turmoil and death.
When concerning the Lutece twins, however, one would assume that the only thing that marked their difference was just a single chromosome. They appeared to be nearly identical—and rightfully so; for the man seemingly had the very same mannerisms and traits as did the lady. Wit—gingery hair—freckles—poise—diction—one could list the similarities shared between the two for hours. Yet there had been distinct differences between the male and the female Lutece that the Lamb had made note of. Robert correlated to pathos, and Rosalind correlated to logos. It was not her but him who yearned to rescue the Lamb from the tower. It was him and not her who made it their mission to persistently try until the Miracle Child was saved.
Rosalind, on the other hand, had a natural appeal for logic. It is noted that she did not view things in such an empathetic light—in fact; one may call her a realist or a fatalist. And it was these qualities in which the girl sought in order to solve her dilemma. Upon discovering the turmoil she had merely stumbled upon on accident, she had been filled with enough fire and passion—the male’s emotions were not needed when she contained them herself. What she needed was the voice of reasoning, and she trusted that the other female could provide her with that.
“I have discovered something within the doors to my— our— dismay.”
Hesitation lingers for a moment—there is an attempt to recollect herself.
“He’s still alive.”
Each pathway rooted from the equivalent, indistinguishable origin of Dewitt’s fracture in character. The baptism, the incident which dispensed the man of all ‘ill will’, as he more than likely would come to claim. What arose came a father, though acting of it only somewhat toward the misled child he wrongly acquired but incredibly concerning the city suspended over the immoral world below. What had been the primary objective of this eden rested within the hands of the both parents: in this case the pair being more so partners in business, associates, if anything.
Through tribulations and observation, both the Luteces had overlooked each distinct timeline, only to vacate within another had the Shepard come to fail. His primary purpose had been nothing more than what they’d come to assist with– this mission had been precise and if there had been a means of action he’d gone through misguided, hope had been obliterated for the universe in question.
On to the next, a repetitive process which had only been put to rest through a Dewitt— unknowingly. It had been evident that the repeated course of actions would lead to a triumph, but it cost one hundred twenty two attempts.
Despite the efforts and the 'celebrated’ victory, eradication did not ultimately strip his existence from the cosmos. Though they yielded an eraser, he’d been a line of led which was forced onto paper, a mark that wouldn’t so easily be removed.
"There are immense likelihoods that he’d remained animated, no matter of the outcomes which had been established regarding the many which held similarities.
It is true that he continues to exist, not so much as the Prophet but instead as another, neglecting all that had been gained for the sake of an individual.“
Elizabeth was able to comprehend– that individual had been none other than herself.
Anonymous: "Does money and recognition matter to you more than ethics?"
This had been a query often voiced than none other than the very Lamb herself. If not in word, in thought— by many of her perspectives, both herself and the Shepard had come to conclude that all had been set in motion by Comstock’s hand but as well by the Lutece’s devices. If he had been that of a warlock, the physicists had been the one’s dispensing staffs.
Opulence and recognition had both been vital in life, one more so than the other by most’s perspective. For the woman, acknowledgment held far more significance to not only herself, but others whom had been ideally similar or accepted the fate which science improved upon… Had her brother been asked, he most definitely would have come to deny any sort of assumption made which questioned morality. Rosalind though, really came to ponder the issue which marked her persona.
Accomplishing feats that had been near impossible didn’t appear to be of value when touching on moral. There was a deal of comprehension when the Prophet requested, as well as the consequences that would prompt the execution… But there had been hazards to denying what she’d once devoted herself toward— possible annihilation.
What else was there to do? Tinkering with universes, embarking on scientific triumph… Though these pleasures came with contradictory phenomenons, to adhere Comstock’s demands would be aiding herself, as well as various crowds. The theories and machines constructed by the Lutece’s have the potential to succeed infinitely. Having the capabilities but not acting on them would be like disposing of momentous data.
Elizabeth had been but one being, as fatalistic as this sounded, it had been the truth.
”Ido not mean for it to be.”
Honesty in it’s most sincere form. R. Lutece truly felt this way.
