The harried young man smoking his pipe felt there was no rational whatsoever in that he step up to the edge of the thorny branches along with the others. It might just be a slight in his nature, but to stop right under the maw of the black, winged beast, side-by-side with a few of the most abnormal of strangers, a pair of which had brandished
very pointy swords at one point or another? Madness, really!
"Why swords, at that...? Suppose they really
are from faraway shores..." muttered the young man to himself as he ran a hand on top of the single flintlock holstered at his waist. As much as it complimented his overall look as an explorer, however, he never had the gall to actually shoot anything with it before. Instead he pressed the claims that he was a man of non-violence, and kept it only for self-defense.
As he discarded the last bit of used tobacco from the chamber of his pipe, the last of the others, another young male much like himself, joined the women to stand before the creature. They were freely talking to one another while he was left standing alone on the mat of grass and moss, bewildered. Keeping his stress-reliever away, he quickly looked over the group again to weigh his options, of which there were few.
However, again, his attention was caught by the Metal Girl, whom had earlier swiveled on point to face him as he neared and startled him rather easily with her sudden movement. Thankfully, he held back from nearly crushing the contents of his satchel that he had put a hand into at that very moment, and she spun around again just as quickly as she did the first time. He could've sworn she muttered a few lines or so, but a mix of several factors at the time got the better of his perception, and he could only fathom the last of her words;
"...is Creator destroyed?"
He only realized now, with his sensibility returned to him, that the girl was perhaps no girl at all, but merely shaped - crafted - in the likeness of one. With him barely realizing it, one of his feet moved out towards the edge of the thorn under the spell of intrigue... and a deeply-ingrained need.
"...An automaton...?" thought the young man. "Then it hasn't the slightest idea what it's getting itself into...?" the young man was now shortly behind the other male, wanting to move up to the front of the group with a sense of urgency... when the otherworldly occurred.
The thorns began to glow, to which the branch ends suddenly sprout vines of light, washing over the circle of thorns and its denizens in the colors of a sky upon sunrise. Overwhelmed for a moment, the young man nevertheless found himself unable to move away. It is then that the creature's voice echoed throughout the circle yet again. But this time, the young man felt no fear. The light swayed him to remain.
"...Here, in the helm of the thorn, are the strands caught. Thus... are its bearers made aware. Heed my words, o few of the lands nevermore..." bellowed the dragon. "I... am
Mugoa, remnant
Crypt-Keeper. And I ask upon yourselves, those awash upon this realm, that was never meant to be... Do you feel... that, which binds you to this world...? To this story...?" asked the dragon to the others within the sphere.
"...W-What...?" the young man looked on, completely lost. "
That which binds me to this world...?" he muttered again.
"...A lingering, ethereal form. Reflect upon yourselves, and seek out... the
Strand." spoke the dragon. "The strand... It once belonged on the earthly body of the
Thirteenth Beast, the
Cat... In its fear as it first overlooked everything from the pinnacle of lore, it discarded handfuls of its hair from its neck. Flowing along the world-stream, these strands of hair anchored themselves to many of the souls scattered across the realms. For those many, the strands now bring them to here...
Basin, the world that resides at the bottom of the wellspring of creation. Spared from erasure, only the strand ensures that you remain. Now, it exists within your hearts. Where you doubted, the strand pulled you towards others possessing their own... And where you will set foot, the strand will be your safeguard... against the
Unbinding now rife across this world, and the myriad dangers it will present..." told the dragon to the group. It had to make do with this haste.
"What are you...?" the explorer contemplated the creature's words. Only now did he seem to understand why the others seemingly could not so easily suspect one another upon waking, as would any sound-minded group. Was it another effect of this 'strand'? Where was his, then? Why had he felt differently from the rest, just now? But wait. He had not felt completely differently. Towards one, he was, perhaps...
And, upon the flash of that one thought, it was as if the strand found itself summoned by its 'wielder'. Fulfilling the creature's words, the strand would now appear to the young man, as he has accepted its existence within him as a personal truth.
He has become aware.
With that, the young man almost gasped in surprise when the air in front of his face filled in a transparent, royal blue light in the shape of a smaller sphere. Moments later, the light took on a more complete form...
"This is... one of the strand...?" wondered the young man, as the object floated down to an open hand. Slowly, it slipped one end in between his index finger and thumb. The young man gripped the strand carefully, and felt that it was soft to the touch. Neither cold nor warm, but simply pleasant. In his hand, it illuminated with the familiar royal blue shade. From time to time, however, the strand would glow in all the seven shades of the rainbow. Unknown to the young man just as of yet, this was the same for all strands.
But for others, their strands would likely primarily resonate in a different color. The meaning behind this remained to be seen.
