#.timeline: interuniversal interference

[anearthstruckalien]

@ruler-of-scientists

[          He senses it.  Both the long-anticipated approach of the machine’s so-called ‘master’ (Giegue can tell that he is close and well en-route to Earth, but with enough time left to spare on Cercil and freeing them as recently decided upon) and surprisingly enough, the cyborg’s own intense emotional disturbance radiating through the air like something incredibly thick and unpleasant.  It’s like a cold shock to his mental faculties, one that’s impossible to simply brush aside like nothing.  The one referred to as ‘Veryn’ will certainly be here soon.  Had they sensed that admittedly expected outcome as well?  He closes his singular dark blue void for a moment and takes in a deep breath. Perhaps.  Or perhaps not.  It hardly matters because the individual in question will be here soon and every second that passes is one that is being wasted and thus lessening any small chance the cyborg may have of keeping their freedom.

            As such, the pale alien simply drops the pen he had been using to write his latest journal entry (rather than neatly putting it away as he normally would otherwise) and immediately teleports out of the room and into the one with all the capsules in it.  Once there, the first sensory hint at the cyborg’s felt disturbance is that of all the noise they were making from the evidently panicked (and utterly futile) smacks on the glass-like material encasing them in dark fluid.  Then as the Psion opens his eye and stares directly at the entity in question… the only conclusion that strikes him as what would be most appropriate and succinct to describe this… would be that they look like a panicked animal.  It’s just like the incident at that horrible cave all over again.  And before that? back when the two of them had first met and the cyborg was desperately trying to get out to kill him or… attempt to anyways…

            An off-white ear twitches a little irritably and with a small wave of his hand, he silently dismisses the starmen which had been standing guard prior, and though it’s difficult to catch any sort of expression in mere machines, he could have sworn that there was a hint of gratitude subtly glistening behind their dark visors before they promptly teleported out and thus left Giegue alone with the cyborg in question.  He squints a little sharply—perhaps even somewhat judgmentally—and takes a few unrelenting steps towards the other before pausing just a short distance away from the controls that would set them free in an instant. He won’t do that though.  Not yet anyways.  Not until he properly addresses this… mess and ascertains that they can be trusted not to destroy anything or otherwise cause harm upon being set free, understandable as their panic and fear may be.

            He must do this quickly though.  As quickly as is possible and preferably before their ‘master’ properly arrives here.  His tail sharply flickers off to one side before he finally speaks, his tone mostly flat with just a hint of something disapproving in it.  ]

----‘…Why on Earth are you doing that… –?’

[anearthstruckalien]

I’ve been meaning to write this earlier, but maaaaan I had to get a bunch of school stuff out of the way first and now that I have, I can relax again.  Anyhow, this is pretty much a little exchange preceding this alien creature leaving Earth again and this time on a more (presumably from his own intent) permanent note for the timeline indicated in the tags.

[Upon recovering enough from the incident at The Place That Time Forgot, the Psion himself had returned to the cave to conduct a thorough check (several times) to ensure that it would be absolutely safe… and upon confirming just that, had promptly removed all blockages from it.  Now, it’s no more than an ordinary (save for its unusual position relative to time) cave open for anyone to safely visit.  In other words, his primary objective on Earth has been completed and he must leave accordingly.  However, just as he is about to head back inside the Mt. Itoi facility, a familiar presence also makes itself known behind his person right before a rather irate voice cuts through the relative silence of the mountain airs.  It would be simple to just ignore it all and proceed with his intended task, but like many times prior, it’s that connection to her which prevents him from dismissing it outright.  That’s just how it is.]

Ninten: Where the heck have you been?

Giegue: I have no idea what you are referring to. [glances over his shoulder and squints sharply] What are you doing here anyways?

Ninten: [jerks a thumb towards himself in a kind of incredulous pointing gesture, eyebrows simultaneously shooting upwards and almost beneath his dark fringe of hair] What am I doing here?  What’re you doing here after being gone for so long? [makes some kind of vague gestures with his hands, the erratic nature of which suggests a mishmash of strong emotions bubbling beneath the surface] It looked like you had abandoned this place for several weeks at least!  I thought that something had happened, but couldn’t figure out what ‘cuz you just suddenly up and vanished!

Giegue: You were here and sneaking around in my absence no less. [and it’s less of a question and more like a somewhat judgemental statement; though it certainly hadn’t been the inside of the facility, the other had obviously been sneaking around its general vicinity, perhaps even attempting to find a way in again.]

Ninten: [crosses his arms now in a rather insolent way] Yeah I was, but only ‘cuz it felt like something shitty happened and I got worried, especially when I couldn’t sense you anymore.  It’s kinda impossible to miss your power in case you hadn’t noticed.

Giegue: [turns back to face the front and tenses up a tiny amount at the bit on ‘power’ for he had indeed noticed just how stand-out it actually is to other parties, disgusting and lowly parties, but lets it slide before the words preceding it come back to the forefront of his mind] Concern… –? [tilts his head down a bit, a sharp swish of an off-white tail following shortly after] … … … … … why?  What advantage were you hoping to obtain from me?

Ninten: [another vague gesture as if words alone could not do the resultant indignation any justice; sure the two of them aren’t close, but he thought that he’d at least made the lack of crazy ulterior motives obvious in his own case] Come on, you can’t still be thinking like that, can you?  I don’t want anything from you.  It’s the other way around –I want to help you out.

Giegue: That is unnecessary. [he says rather stiffly, his posture tensing up another tiny amount]  I remember making that point repeatedly clear in our interactions.

Ninten: But, you said that you’d think about it didn’t you?  I tried to give you space out of respect for that. I tried to be understanding and all that stuff.  But [shakes head rashly] I just don’t get it.  I thought that I did, but I really don’t no matter how much I think about it. [another shake of the head as if emphasizing this very fact] Why all the distance? Why do you insist on being alone even though you don’t have to be?

Giegue: It is better this way. [comes an immediate response, a short pause to deliberate something, and a biting continuation with the hopes that it’ll put this to an end and thus make it less cumbersome than it already is on its own] Before you speak any further… I will spare you the trouble of saying anything else and tell you that there is no use in what you are doing. I have given your offer some consideration, as promised, and made my decision accordingly. [starts to walk away towards the blocked off entrance to the Mt. Itoi facility.] I do not want your help.  Nor do I require it.

Ninten: [abruptly and in an admittedly reckless way, grabs the Psion’s hand] Wait –that’s not an answer.  There’s gotta be more to it than that!  I just– [a short inhalation of breath and following its exhalation, he seems to decide to dial it waaaay back; getting too worked up (no matter how justified) wouldn’t get him anywhere here] okay, I’m gonna be honest.  I don’t like not knowing what’s going on, but I guess that being all secret-y is pretty much your thing.I can live with that. [another short inhalation of breath before he points at the Psion with his free hand] But.  You should at least be upfront about why you don’t want any help.  Help me to understand why.  I wanna understand this much at the very least so that I can let it go.

Giegue: [pauses just as abruptly and for just a split-second (if one was paying close attention) it looks like he flinched, but otherwise makes no further motions, not even to move out of the other’s grip even though it would be simple to do so.  As a matter of fact, a rather lengthy pause follows with what seems to be some intense internal deliberation before the Psion (surprisingly enough) ultimately decides to be honest about his feelings.  Ninten deserves at least much—to know that it’s no fault of his really—especially since they will not cross paths again; in other words, there will be no other opportunity to say this.]

It is nonsensical.  I have not done anything to have something like… that bestowed upon me. Not from you, especially when I have hurt you in the past.  As such, your inquiry is incorrectly worded.It has nothing to do with ‘why’ and everything to do with ‘how’. [ears flatten against his head] How can I accept something like that in light of everything that has happened…? 

[…then yet another abrupt pause as if something had choked the words back in his throat and would have kept them there were it not for his own determination to see this through despite his own discomfort with doing so.  As such, following that brief pause, the Psion inhales deeply before rigidly and slowly pressing onwards, an evident hint of melancholy arising in the words themselves as he proceeds further with his point; an all too blatant departure from the relative neutrality of before.]

Every single time you are ‘nice’ to me… it just makes me feel horrible on the inside.  It makes me sick to an extreme degree.  Because I know that it is a waste of your time.  Just as it was for her back then when escaping would have been more beneficial…

[a more definitive glance down towards the ground and the drop of his tail down to a rather listless position atop the rocky ground while he just barely manages to otherwise stay still over acquiring a more hunched posture, tempting as it is at this point.]

I can endure anything that occurs to my body.  The pain does not matter because it does not even hurt in any way that is significant.  Physical pain is inconsequential.

But, the thought of that… nothing is more painful.  It is too much to easily process.I do not deserve your kindness.  Your goodness.  And in your lifetime, I do not think that I ever will.

Ninten: [almost has a double take at what the answer ends up being, enough that he does let go of the other and run a hand through messy dark hair in a rather stressed way.  Wow.  He really didn’t know anything and now, with one of (likely) many other things that his uncle keeps in mind… he’s not sure that he really wants to know more with how hard-hitting this already is.  It’s difficult to think of how to react or what to say to make it better.  Or if there’s anything that can be said.  Maybe it would be good to start with an apology for getting on his case like that.]  I’m sorry. Sorry… for acting like everything about this is simple and easy to fix without really knowing much of anything. For not understanding.

[…and it seems like that’s all there is when after some further deliberation the human boy himself too decides to be honest about this whole help thing because though it certainly is rooted in a genuinely good place, part of it is somewhat self-centered and his uncle should know that in turn]

To be honest… I don’t even think that it’s 100% kindness and goodness. Trying to help is important for a lot of reasons, it being the right thing to do included, but the truth is that I feel like I screwed up during your first attack [a pause and he quickly corrects his statement upon seeing how it could potentially be misinterpreted or otherwise cause confusion over its meaning, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck a little sheepishly and in a way that indicates some form of awkwardness or discomfort with all this himself] With how I handled it I mean.  I know that it’s kinda stupid, but I keep on feeling like it could’ve been better. I just wanted to stop you, not cause some seriously shitty breakdown or whatever it was.  [eyes briefly flicker off to the side before refocusing straight on the Psion anew] And well… –it happened, so I thought that if I tried to help you out now and did that well enough, it’d make up for that entire mess that came out of it all.

Giegue: [listens very intently to all this, slowly but certainly recovering from what his own spiel had taken out of him such that once the end of what Ninten had to say comes, most of his composure has returned.  It’s honestly a bit of a relief to know that the intent isn’t as overwhelming as he had initially perceived it to be, but all the same, it doesn’t ease away the burden of how painful it actually is to think about.  Self-interest or not, the kindness and goodness is there, but it’s hardly worth debating.  There’s no use in explaining why there’s no need to feel ‘bad’ or make up for anything either because that’s already been done before... to predictably no avail.  A short sigh.  ] It is not mandatory to understand.  Nonetheless, I am sorry too.  Sorry for… everything. [yet another pause among the many which had populated this conversation before he just decides to continue onwards anyways, there’s more to be said and very little time left for it] In truth, I had hoped to do more… there is quite a bit that I have to make up to Maria… but I cannot stay on Earth for it.  That is not what her home-planet requires… nor that of its life-forms.

Ninten: [he’s once again stuck on what to say or do, but one thing (despite it all) is clear:  he cannot offer any kind of help.  Not in any direct way.  Rather the best thing that can be done now… is to just be there and offer support. It’s not really his style to be on the sidelines like that, but it really can’t be helped given how much more complicated everything turned out to be.  As such, he merely offers a determined nod of acknowledgement before doing just that, offering support for what seems like a good-intentioned decision.] 

I don’t know if it’d mean anything to you… but I’ll be there for you in spirit, cheering on what you’re trying to do for the Earth and its people here.  I’ll pray for your success and safety and send all kinds of good vibes your way.[smiles a little in that characteristically boisterous way of his and offers a supportive thumbs-up]  And if you ever decide to come back… even if you don’t get it… you gotta know that you’ll always have a ‘home’ here.  It’s what she would’ve wanted isn’t it?

Giegue: [there it is again.  There’s that incomprehensible will to continue pushing such kindness towards himself … and yet oddly enough, he doesn’t mind as much this time around.  Perhaps it was partly due to the passive form it had taken on, but mostly it would have to be just how much it reminds him of Maria in that moment, of her character at its most concentrated.  There’s something bright and familiar (and not in a bittersweet way for once) about those precise sentiments, enough that it causes for the pale alien to turn all the way around to face the other and stare for several moments… before his mouth curve up just a tiny amount and into the faintest of smiles.  Nothing scathing or bitter or mocking, but a genuine smile for the first time in a long time.] Yes.  I suppose that it is. [the smile fades away into neutrality and right before the pale alien simply decides to teleport inside the Mt. Itoi facility, he offers some last few words for what may well be the last time.] Good bye Ninten.  I will not forget you.

[anearthstruckalien]

[[  What was just a rough doodle turned into this thing where this blog’s resident alien thinks about his powers (since he’s back to being at full strength without going all Giygas) and in the end, decides that it’s indeed best to stick with his original intentions, but with an added notion of keeping active tabs on Earth from a distance regardless of how far he gets from it within the universe.

----‘Power.  It is the capacity to enact alterations which eventually present themselves in tangible ways.  It is a tangible manifestation of will and the capacity to successfully enforce it upon that of external objects or oneself.  It has the potential to annihilate, create, or maintain the ‘status quo’.

I have been thinking on what to do with what I currently possess even further and… some intriguing thoughts have come to mind…

I could obliterate them and thus liberate myself from that perpetual fear of mine.  But.  That would not do any good… for even those creatures serve a purpose in the universe and I must not disrupt that.  Balance is more important than petty feelings no matter how justified they are.

I could attempt to repair planetary damages… but I do not think that I am proficient enough with healing skills to do so.  It is not worth the risk.  Unfortunately, my best skills are in matters of warping and destruction…

That is why I must be especially careful.  Action should not be taken frivolously.  I must only do so if there is a necessity for it.  If I am threatened or that of the Earth and its life-forms, then I will take action.  Extreme action... tempered by the minimization of harm to unintended targets.  Nothing else is acceptable.

As such, this entails leaving Earth as originally planned.  The level of power alters nothing beyond the extent of what I can do and that of the precise individuals whom may take an interest in it, something which may have expanded in disgusting ways.  Earth should not be caught in the crossfire of such stupid and pointless conflict.’

[anearthstruckalien]

[anearthstruckalien]

 ✏️ + Cercil? Just curious

[♫]; send me a ✏️ and my muse will draw a picture of your muse; @only-our-regrets

[anearthstruckalien]

[anearthstruckalien]

[anearthstruckalien]

[anearthstruckalien]

[          There’s no sense of spatial transition between the prayers which had effectively removed the threat he had originally come to eliminate and a sudden shift back out of the deeper parts of his Magicant and to the heart of The Place That Time Forgot.  It simply is. He squints in a rather sharp way and glances about in a wary manner as though expecting for some kind of twist to all this to spontaneously show itself before him… only for no such thing to come at all.  Everything had faded away in an instant as though it had never existed at all to begin with and Giegue himself had been standing in this exact spot the entire time, dazing off into the distance.  And now? well he certainly doesn’t feel any different, but he knows that something has happened with certainty because not only is the overwhelming force of unstoppable (or so it had seemed to those that did not know any better) corruption absent, but the cave is no more threatening than an ordinary cave and the way such a mundane thing strikes fear into the faint hearted by virtue of its general characteristics.  It’s peaceful.  Quiet. And imbued with a natural charm that he personally enjoys.  Were it not for the uncomfortable history here… this would be a rather acceptable location for leisurely activities of his own.

           All that’s left to do now is to conduct one last thorough examination of the cave to ensure that nothing else remains. Then, he could leave Earth permanently knowing that none of his own power or remnants will bring about senseless pain and suffering on more innocent life-forms.  Enough that had been done already and allowing for it to persist any further on his part would be unacceptable.  The Earth had suffered enough and its inhabitants with it.  It’s over now.  Or so it seems because almost as soon as the pale alien makes a decision on what move to make next… he’s abruptly struck by a strange sensation.  Not the kind of strangeness that corruption itself had overrun his mind with, but rather as though something is being pieced back together. It’s a brief and fleeting sensation, but all the same, it’s something he could never fail to notice because its uniqueness aside, the sensation’s conclusion is marked by a bright luminescence (pale blue in color) that faintly shimmers about his form like a higher form of power before just as abruptly vanishing; his mind had been partially repaired by the return of that missing part of himself and with that, so had his full amount of power.

           It would be yet another surprise of the many that have befallen him today, but in retrospect… it truly isn’t.  He conducts a small test (using the same amount of control to release some raw energy in the form of pale blue sparks) and its yield is far greater by default than what he would have ordinarily received otherwise. Now he taps his chin in a rather pensive way.  Yes. It all makes sense when he truly considers it.  The reason why the corrupted after-image had been so impossibly powerful and capable of great harm… it had been because that’s where the other half of his power was being kept.  It was his own mistake to think otherwise or perhaps little more than the trickery of the power and influence that this could hold over his inherently flawed mind. Who even knows at this point?  All that matters is that it’s over now.  The worst of what had remained from the second invasion of Earth had been removed.  And that reprieve alone is enough to have the Psion to exhale a shaky breath and before he can even stop it himself, he just… –falls to his knees and would have fully hit the ground with the rest of his body were it not for his own quick set of preventative measures.

          All those feelings had come rushing back at full force it seems.  He knows it because if it were any smaller, then he certainly wouldn’t be feeling so overwhelmed and utterly incapable of even beginning to disentangle what he’s feeling now.  It’s just so much. The feelings that had been there from the very start of this entire quest and attempted to violently surge up during moments of extreme pressure and danger in all honesty, the ones he had held back for the sake of his goal here. An adjustment of his position here and there… and the Psion pushes himself into a sitting position atop the ground before closing his singular dark blue void and just works on relaxing. On breathing and easing away such disturbances.  Or rather the potential for it.  These feelings need to be addressed properly, but first he has to rest.  That entails bringing himself back to a state of complete calm and enough so that he can teleport out and into the Mt. Itoi facility. He’s feeling overwhelmed and tired by this point.  Therefore, some rest is required to properly restore himself before making any further significant movements be it for personal matters or those pertaining to the current situation at hand; beyond just a final check, there’s a lot that requires processing about this situation.  Far more than he had ever expected to come out of all this.  ]

[anearthstruckalien]

[          A hand is slowly extended towards the bright and rectangular object shining amidst the otherwise unfathomable darkness of the room; it was just a void now that the sickly red tint had (thankfully) disappeared.  Slowly. Measuredly.  Tentatively.  But, he never opens it.  Not at the moment he had envisioned in his thoughts because of properly opening it, his hand remains idly hovering over the point at which he could open it with one simple manuveur.  Tension still runs high throughout his exoskeleton and now it’s reached the tip of his tail given how it’s curled in on itself ever-so-slightly.  His mouth presses into a tight and rigid line and ultimately rather than moving any further, the pale alien simply casts his dull gaze towards the ground as though that would effectively calm and distract him from whatever it is that may be behind this door.  He had never planned for this.  He had never anticipated it.  This was an event that had occurred beyond his calculations.  It was never supposed to get this… complicated.  What will happen next…?  What will he be capable of doing based on what happens next?

           The faintest of exasperated sighs is what ultimately escapes him in apparent response to his own internal set of inquiries, what should have otherwise been a greater travel of sound fundamentally absorbed by the darkness and thus leaving no further continuation of the sound in its wake.  This is not the purpose behind his visit to The Place That Time Forgot, but all the same, the truth of the matter is that he is… afraid.  Despite his best efforts he is still afraid.  It might not show very well now because he’s in what one might refer to as ‘survival mode’, but something like this is among his greatest fears… or rather a precursor to it.  He lifts his gaze up from the ground and down to his hands anew.  If he’s still capable of doing anything at all, of thinking rationally and freely moving about his mind, then it has not happened yet.  Not yet. But, it could if he doesn’t take action soon.  Now his gaze is rigidly fixed back upon the door in the middle of the room before him. The truth is… that he’s also afraid of what he might find behind this door.  He knows what is meant to be behind it (because even as he fears it, curiousity and a desire to find answers to critical questions exist within) but seeing what is there would either confirm the absolute worst to be undeniably true… or refute what he’s believed thus far in unforeseen ways.

           Both of those possibilities would be difficult to process for different reasons.  Possibilities that he may not be prepared for… and yet it is what he must do anyways. It is too quick.  This is something that had never been meant to be touched.  Something that should have stayed locked away until he could face it (no matter how horrible) if that day would ever come.  This is the only progress that he’s made thus far in his current situation.  And it was enough to get that disgusting part of him to ease off a bit (he simply knows it)… so it in turn, may be precisely what he needs to put this nonsense to an end.  For good. Just like he had originally set out to do.  He takes several breathes to calm himself down and thus push aside some of that which is clogging up clear thought to at least feel like he can do more despite the ultimately muddled state of his mind.  Then, he resumes his earlier motion and draws his hand closer to the door so that it can be opened much like the high-tech doors lining the inside of his ship and with little more hesitation, he steps through the entry and into the next location…  ]

[          The room that he finds himself in next may as well be the prior location’s precise opposite.  It was bright.  Uncomfortably bright but only because of the highly reflective nature of the room and some unknown light source hidden behind each facet.  It’s cut like a crystalline system of caves and just as rough on the greyish-white ground below (that too somewhat reflective in its own way) and at first, that there’s nothing else in this room has the Psion thinking that perhaps there is indeed nothing beyond what he’s considered to be himself for the longest time.  What a wasted effort.  Soon would that thought be put aside however, because just as the Psion is about to turn to leave, something in the reflective surfaces catches his eye. Something that isn’t merely a reflection of his current form.  Rather, one of the many duplicate images of himself seems to melt away like it was a trick of the light itself to that of the distorted variant which had been present in the other room.  And before he can even properly react to that… yet another image on a different reflective surface repeats the prior process to give way to an image of himself without all the evident signs of damage to his physical form.  And yet another morphs to something almost too idealistic to be true; what seems to be a younger variant of himself, as a child, and donning a scarf in the color which he hates so much though this red is a far more valiant take on it.  It’s this latest one which causes him to take a step back out of instinct and for a singular dark blue void to widen a marginal amount, as though he cannot believe what he is seeing within his own mind.  ]

‘What.  On.  Earth…’

[          A disbelieving shake of the head and another step is almost taken back, one that certainly would have been enacted were it not for his own refusal to display any further weakness, even within the unseen recesses of such a hidden place.  The altered reflections (though visibly different in appearances) do not seem to be entities of their own so much as they are just that, altered reflections of himself.  Everything he does is mimicked by the otherwise listless images scattered amidst crystalline formations.  Cue another critical glance about the general area and then another sigh.  Of course.  He had been expecting something like this or least just that of the first two. The third was a complete surprise. After a moment’s worth of hesitation, he moves towards the more heroic-looking image as though innately drawn to it in an inexplicable manner.  And ordinarily, this would be enough for him to call its truthfulness into question, but this is his mind and no matter how… –troubled he may be deep-down, that (a part of one’s Magicant) does not lie.  A pause at just a short distance from it and he tentatively presses a hand to the reflective facet’s surprisingly cold surface.

           Is that really… himself… –?  It must be.  This cannot be a lie.  One’s Magicant never lies no matter how much one may personally wish to see otherwise. But… how… –?  He thought that… he had thought that… it was just a dream. An impossible illusion perpetually out of reach from a monster like himself, an evil creature with an innate nature that indiscriminately drives it to warp and destroy when left to its own natural devices.  If so… if this is truly himself, then it means that his nature isn’t what he thought it was… he isn’t just a hollow shell moved by the will of others, a corrupted Psion tool, or just the nightmare which had to be exterminated for the good of everyone... is he…?  He shudders just a little bit, his right eye twitching in kind as though holding something back, before the Psion sharply turns away as if he cannot stand looking at such a bright image anymore.  There’s an overwhelming build-up of something inside him and that something is powerful enough to block out the perpetual pain and nightmarish buzzing all on its own without any input from Giegue himself.  It’s difficult to properly sort out what he’s feeling and what he isn’t because it’s just so much… but it is (with no small degree of certainty) some bizarre mixture of relief bordering on sickly happiness that he isn’t what he thought himself to be… that in the end, it wasn’t a complete waste of time for her to associate with him at all… and that of an almost hardcoded desire to reject such a conclusion because it just didn’t make any sense…

           No.  He frowns and shoves that later sentiment aside.  Regardless of what his personal feelings are, it would be utter insanity to reject it in a place where truth about the self was meant to shine through despite one’s own perceptions of themselves.  He casts another critical glance about the images anew and tries to think through what this means logically.  If that more heroic variant is himself, the true self, then the others indicated must also be his true self as well.  All of it is a part of him and perhaps even more depending on his own willingness to search.  A vague blink as the overarching conclusion to this dawns upon him after more careful (and somewhat suspicious) thought.  He isn’t inevitably a monster by nature, but rather a… very flawed entity just as capable of good and terrible things as any other neutral form. And just as importantly, all of this also means that he’s… always been himself this entire time.  Despite his own condition… missing a piece and everything… he’s always been himself.  The corrupted after-image has always been a part of him.  It has always been with him along with those terribly corrupted and distorted feelings. It has always been connected to him; he had simply never wanted to acknowledge the fullest extent of all this. He had been more afraid of it than he consciously realized; it went far deeper.

           A more direct glance at the corrupted image in all its oozing and grotesque glory and he practically pushes himself into an almost shambling kind of walk towards it with definitive intent in mind.  It is himself.  These are his feelings too and they have continued to exist within beyond the outcome of the second attempt.  He is the nightmare.  The Evil Power.  The Universal Cosmic Destroyer.  Giygas. Despair.  Hate.  Anger. Regret.  Fear.  And sadness. Those are all a part of himself, but it does not have to be all that exists and it most certaintly isn’t.  Though unnecessary (given that what he’s about to do is more so about a state of mind, sentiment, and willpower than anything) pale hands gently clasp together in front of his physical form.  If it truly was all that existed, then he wouldn’t have been capable of doing good things at all for its own sake.  Of even doing these things for Maria’s sake based on his obligation to her which itself is undoubtedly rooted in how he feels about her. This is not an illusion.  He is not an illusion.  A deep inhalation of breath and (like many other times preceding it) a subsequent exhalation.  His intentions have been genuine all along and though that alone doesn’t grant a cohesive understanding of who he precisely is as a person in full… it does give further weight to the hope that he could somehow be so much more despite everything.

           His mind has now been stuck back into clarity and focus.  An internal sense of peace has overridden all that bothersome noise.  And now his sole focus is simply on doing something… anything to put a permanent stop to the trouble being caused by what remains after the second invasion of Earth, so that no one else has to get hurt and pointlessly suffer because of his own actions.  As such, it seems that his efforts (this time around) are not in vain because he does feel something building up, the intangible turning into something that can transcend its limitations.  Power.  Willpower. Determination.  An incredibly dense and bright concentration of energy. Far more than a star or even an entire galaxy for that matter.  But certainly less than what he had felt from the Earth’s Power.  It burns.  But, not in any way that’s uncomfortable or emptying.  And the phantom, it seems, can feel it too because suddenly the corrupted image stops being a direct mirror of himself and morphs into the real creature which tries to strike out at him like before…

           … only for Giegue himself to move his own appendage (his left hand) towards it, sparking just a little with something unidentifiable by any current standards, and makes direct physical contact with little more than an index finger.  At first nothing seems to happen, but a moment later, the corrupted after-image seems to fall off itself in a way.  It’s like shedding a shell.  An incredibly damaged shell distorted beyond easy recognition and one that ultimately falls apart in pieces as though it were as fragile as paper to reveal something else beyond it all.  Or rather what it always has been beyond corruption.  All that remains in its place is something pale blue in color and of indiscernible shape.  He narrows an eye to study it for just a bit, though he already knows what it is, before reaching out towards it once again and allowing for it to disappear into himself. It has been absorbed and is now a part of himself once again.  Now there is no more after-image and no further concerns about what it could do given that all of its terrible effects have long since ceased to be.  He hears no message.  No buzzing.  And no further pain.  ]

[anearthstruckalien]

[          It’s a bit difficult to piece together precisely what happened or how long that lapse in consciousness has lasted, but all the same it is the sound of that nightmarish (and frankly distracting) buzzing in his mind that always made it so difficult to think clearly alongside the terrible pain (which still radiates as madly as ever from his head) that fully jerks him awake.  Mustering up every single bit of willpower possible at this moment, Giegue pushes past the pain and buzzing enough to force himself into a clear enough state of mind to properly gauge the situation.  The first quality he manages to take note of is that the location had been altered in some way; either he’s in the same place as before but different… or it’s an entirely different place altogether.  It certainly feels like it could be another place.  A small shake of the head to himself.  It doesn’t matter though.  Not now.  The most prominent quality about the place as it is now would be that he’s now in what appears to be a closed room of void-like darkness partially filled with dark sludge with a distinct and ever-familiar sickly red tint to it.

           With another powerful bout of willpower, the Psion pushes himself back to his feet, wobbling only a little before properly stabilizing himself. Good.  That’s a good start.  Then he momentarily bends over just a bit and sticks a finger in the sludge to more closely inspect a small sample of it.  However, before any conclusion can be made on it, there’s an abrupt elevation in volume to that buzzing accompanied by incomprehensible distortions of sound (or that’s what it would sound like to others –personally he could understand the words perfectly well) that gives him a just as abrupt pause in his investigation. The answer is already apparent anyways. It’s corruption.  His mouth curves down ever-so-slightly in plain disgust. A manifestation of precisely what he had cleansed some time ago.  How repulsive.  It really does need to be terminated as quickly as possible.  A thoughtful swish of his tail.  If this is here though… then this means that he must still be physically lacking in consciousness.  This is the realm of the mind.  ]

Giegue:  [takes a moment to force aside that additional pain before speaking in a deceptively neutral manner as though this were any other conversation] It is you again. [almost smiles in a rather spiteful way] If I can retain this current semblance of self… then it seems that my mind is more resistant to such inflitrations than I initially anticipated. What a shame.

???:  But. You aren’t really yourself are you? You’re too busy sleeping.  It’s time to wake up.

Giegue:  [ears twitch for a moment in what might have been irritation, his temporary bout of satisfaction gone, before he responds] …what do you even want with me…? [and even as he gives such an inquiry, its answer is already somehow managing to form in his mind]

???:  To become one again.  To destroy everything.  To hate hate hate…

Giegue:  There is no need for that.  [he interrupts almost a little too quickly, the only indication of how unnerved he is being that of a marginal tensing of his posture] I am already myself.  There is nothing missing that I require to have returned to me.

???:  No. You’re a hollow shell.  A corrupted Psion tool.  An illusion that tricked itself into believing that it has anything to do with reality.

Giegue: [narrows a singular dark blue void while his tail begins to swish uneasily] Maybe.  But, that does not mean that I will ever sink to that level again.  It is over now.  Those days are gone and I simply want to be left alone in peace.

???:  It’s what you want though isn’t it?  Deep-down, it’s what you truly want to do.  You’re just too afraid to admit it.  Your true self is hidden somewhere beyond your conscious mind and you know it. You’re just too afraid to search for it because you’re afraid of what you might find.

[and as if on cue, part of the sludge—just off its more surface level components—moves and shapes itself into a horrific and oozing depiction of the Psion himself with seemingly endless pits for eyes and overall proportions of grotesque configuration.]

Look at me.  This is who you truly are.  Anything else is unnatural.

Giegue:  [scowls and turns away, a hand moving up to cover his mouth as though he were going to be sick (despite the physical impossibility of such an action) while his tail comes to a sharp and rather lashing halt at a side.] Stop it.  I do not want to be myself.  I want to be better than that.  [an inhalation and exhalation of breath] Making her suffer again is unacceptable.  You should know that.

???:  But that’s a lie.  Being how you are now is a lie.  A lie that doesn’t matter anyways. [moves in a bit closer, perhaps even to an uncomfortable degree and with that, a further rise in that terrible buzzing and pain in Giegue’s own mind, the incomprehensible sounds themselves falling to a whisper at an ear.]  Because no matter how you are… you can’t help doing what you do.  Warping.  Destroying. It’s a part of your nature and so, it’ll always make her suffer anyways.[begins to slowly move a distorted-looking hand towards him] Quit wasting time already.  Lies are never meant to be eternal.  Go back to being what you were always meant to be.  It’s fate.

Giegue:  [before the Psion can even process what move to make next himself when he realizes what’s occurring precisely, and how to do it in a non-psionic way given how cluttered up his mind currently is, he physically slaps the corruption-based hand construct away]No. [blinks, a bit surprised at his own actions, before reaffirming his answer duly] No.  I would rather be wiped from the plane of existence.

???:  [shakes head, bits of corrupted sludge sprinkling about in small amounts, before offering a rather grotesque smile] Don’t you see?  You’ve tricked others into believing it and you’ve tricked yourself into believing it, but you’re still the same as you were back then.

You didn’t ‘progress’ as much as you thought because in the end, you’re still a hollow shell moved only by the will of someone else.

Giegue:  [rigidly turns away once again and in another direction, his tail resuming its uneasy swishing] It is not the same.  It can’t be.  It felt real enough to me.  Like it was more than that. [blinks and cools down a bit, squinting in thought] It is true that for some time… I was only moving according to her will or what I believed it to be.  If that were the limit of my capacity, then I would be content with that… [a pale hand forms a tight fist for just a moment before loosening] but it is not.  I know that with certainty.

???:  [loses shape entirely as though destabilized by something and simply stays as it was from the very beginning of this encounter, an unnatural stream of incomprehensible sounds muddled with horrifying disturbances.  Then a question comes.  The first statement that isn’t precisely a jab.]If not for someone else, then why are you doing it at all?

Giegue:  I believe that there exists an inherent value to life.

???:  [another moment of brief destabilization] Why?

Giegue:  Because it is not replaceable.  I am not replaceable.  And neither is any other life-form regardless of how they are produced.

[another blink before he glances down at his own hands and starts to muse, going on something of a miniature tangent on this topic despite the ever-present pain, buzzing, and just how much all that destabilization (and frankly this entire experience in general) is unnerving him.]

Experiences can be shared, but their accumulation is different for each life-form. It is not easily replicated nor is it replaceable.  To destroy a life-form would be to purge that unique construction from existence and that is a pity.  It is a waste.

[glances down at the sludge directly, singular void narrowed in conviction, even as it seems to come apart more and more frequently]

I may not have a good grasp of who I am precisely… but I know that I am no longer overtaken by a desire to destroy.  That will not heal what is hurt on the inside.  Sacrificing others will not ease my pain. [he takes a deep breath and upon exhaling, something bright and rectangular in shape appears right in front of him] I will prove it. [and with one last violent shudder, the red-tinted sludge vanishes, but he knows that this is far from being over.  The pain is still there.  So is that buzzing.  It rather sounds like a distinct message now burned into his mind.  A glance over to the bright object before him.  It’s obviously a door.  One that leads to a different part of his mind… but whether or not he would like what he finds behind it is an entirely different matter altogether…]

[anearthstruckalien]

[          It doesn’t take long for the Psion to arrive back on Earth where it (fortunately) remained in as stable a state as when he had left it.  The humans still go about their daily lives.  The plants still grow as best as they could in their respective environments.  And Mt. Itoi lay as silent, desolate, and undisturbed as ever, its internal facilities included.  There’s almost a sense of a strange kind of peace—relief he suspects—upon seeing that everything is as he left it… –that nothing had occurred in his absence and that leaving it be is indeed what’s best for the Earth and all life on it.  A nod to himself as a singular dark blue void sharply peers at the entrance (the one through the lost underworld) into The Place That Time Forgot where a barrier (disguised as a closed wall of the cave system) is currently blocking entry.  Yes it is indeed better this way.  This is how it should have been from the very beginning.  And it is precisely why as soon as he arrived on Mt. Itoi and made arrangements to temporarily settle in the location… no time had been wasted in teleporting out to complete the task he had come back here to complete.  A pale hand clenches for one tense moment before the Psion simply… brushes it aside by the force of his will and promptly walks right through the barrier and into the cave; he is registered as an authorized person to it after all.

           Instantaneously (and before he can even get a proper look at the altered visuals) he can sense that it is different than it had been the last time.  Something about it had changed.  Perhaps it had been after he eradicated the part of its after-image that the machine (likely a tool again by now as per what may as well be its inevitable fate) had been infected with.  Perhaps it had expected for him to come back and prepared accordingly.  No longer was its eerie and menacing nature so vaguely threatening.  Now it was obvious from the way it seemed like nothing but an overwhelming void darkness comprised it to the sole visual amidst the darkness being that of the path which itself was a sickly-looking grey lined with feverish red cracks atop its surface, likely surface-level features given the relative stability of the pathway itself.  He knows where it leads.  A few steps along its predetermined twists and turns confirmed it long before he (in a slow yet measured way) eventually reaches the intended destination, where the final battle had occurred during the second invasion of Earth.  There’s no turning back now.  Not with such an important task to complete.  It doesn’t matter how bothersome that nightmarish buzzing at the edges of his mind (slowly built up over the course of his moderate journey) is starting to become.  He must do this.

           A pale hand reaches up to gently rub at the side of his head as though it would resolve the issue, but he well knows by now that such an effort was rather futile.  It’s something of a habit by this point in time, one that is only concluded by a brief shake of the head and then focuses on getting into a proper state of mind for prayers.  This must be destroyed.  So that no one else gets caught up in it again.  So that no one else is made to pointlessly suffer as a result. Something is different here.  This means that he must remain vigilant and so, while he does close his eye and direct a majority of his focus onto prayers, the remainder of his attention remains on the surroundings.  Something is bound to happen soon.  He knows it.  Why else would everything look so meticulously prepared…?  A deep inhalation of breath, a pause to hold it as though pouring all his tenseness into it, and then a subsequent exhalation and with it, the tension it had absorbed.  Then a repeat of the motion.  And another. And yet another… only for something to abruptly (about as quickly as one would expect for pure energy or some kind of phantom to move) smash into something invisible about his form (evidently he had shielded himself prior to entering the cave) and cause it to fall apart at once.

            His eye snaps open anew.  There it is.  And in response to this, a much stronger shield is put back up about his form, psionic energy shining a pale blue in the form of something protective before seemingly disappearing; the shield is in-place once again, it’s merely invisible. The force itself is as vague and incomprehensible in form (enough that it’s impossible to describe beyond the fleeting sensation of a reddish tinge) as the powers its source material possesses, but no less dangerous.  Even though it is a mere after-image it still holds power and that power alone… that capacity to harm is why it must be obliterated as soon as is possible.  That comes with prayers and thus is why the focus should be on blocking while concurrently looking for (or otherwise creating) the best opportunity to counter with prayers. As such, this is what the Psion resolves to do… but just as that human saying goes, ‘easier said than done’ because that corrupted after-image is persistent to say the least.  Persistent and powerful.  Not only does it mercilessly smash against his shields with unfathomable force (his own strength and force, but even greater in nature) but it leaves very little periods of rest in-between its attacks.  Any opportunity that seems to present itself for prayers is quickly eradicated before anything can successfully be done.  And though the Psion himself could stand to be a little faster, there is some inevitable degree of difficulty (even with the technology to ease off mental strain of PSI usage) of being any faster than he is now because he can feel that same horrifying and nightmarish buzzing alternating in volume and attempting to dig its claws deeper into his inherently flawed mind.

            Eventually, after what feels like an eternity of repeating the same procedure of defending and attempting to pray, he makes an effort to fight back rather than focusing on prayer in the form of an extremely violent and sudden incomprehensible attack way above anything he had used in quite some time in battle and aimed at destruction… though he knows that brute force would only stun it for a short time at best, especially when even this is a small portion of his current power.  It hits the phantom precisely where the Psion wants it to and with that, induces the desired effect.  It has been stunned.  As such, he doesn’t lend much more thought or hesitation to what he intends on doing next… rather as if on instinct, he immediately restarts the procedure for praying. Pointed teeth grit against the pain of the endlessly looping buzzing, fragmented messages, and force pushing against his mind.  But. Fundamentally? he is undeterred. He successfully manages to recentre himself (rushed as it is and degraded as its quality likely is due to the ongoing struggle with the phantom’s influence, the extremely lengthy amount of time he’s spent at its very core, and the inevitable mental exhaustion beginning to form) and right as he focuses his precise will together with the sentiments guiding it on that of destruction… –something manages to actually hit him. Something cold, unnatural, and utterly reminiscent of that incomprehensible nightmare of pain.  Something that’s a part of himself.  Or was.  Was.

           In his rush to finish this task up and in his determination to succeed, it seems that the Psion had failed to pay a sufficient amount of attention to his environment or at least take note of the precise state of his shield.  As a result, it had managed to break through and land the first ever hit on him in forever, likely several hours from the start of the initial encounter.  His demeanor remains blankly neutral but there’s something suddenly more void about that singular eye of his as he checks his physical condition.  His container had not been the target.  And now that same nightmareish pain begins to radiate from his left and all the way to the right side of his head.  No. That had never been the point at all. He had miscalculated.  And in the process of doing so… it had successfully managed to infiltrate his–…

           The conclusion never comes.  His senses seem to cease functioning.  It seems that a loss of consciousness has occurred.  Whether or not it’s a true failure however remains to be seen.  ]

[anearthstruckalien]

[[  Though the recent turn of events on what counts as this blog’s ‘main’ (I really need a better name for this) timeline have resulted in Giegue leaving Earth for now... his ever-charming attitude and personality remain.  Remember that even though he isn’t currently present on the planet in the ‘main’ timeline, he’ll always be there for you just like in this image.  ]]

[anearthstruckalien]

[anearthstruckalien]

[anearthstruckalien]

Giegue do you think that Cercil is sentient? What do you make of denying it?

[          A slow yet definitive nodcomes.  Of course.  Nothing about that mess back on Earth hadaltered that.  He has his reasons for believingthat they are and thus far, he hadn’t been given sufficient reason not to continuedoing so.  ]

—-‘Yes.  I still do believe that they are or rather… –were sentient until their termination.  I know what I detected.  Both within their Magicant and outside of it.’

[           He pauses for just one tense moment as thoughts flicker back tothe information he managed to obtain from that fatal encounter between thecyborg in question and their ‘master’ broadcast by none other than thesurveillance system within Mt. Itoi’s facility. Only a moment.  And then, pale fingersbegin to tap his chin in a thoughtful manner while his response to the secondinquiry comes.  Truth be told, he isn’t entirelycertain what to make of it because he doesn’t really understand why, but ananswer (if somewhat speculating) can beprovided to the best of his abilities anyways. ]

‘It isentirely possible that Arkan science simply is not advanced enough to sufficiently handle the matter of sentience.  I would not be surprised.  If the denial that I observed from the Mt. Itoisurveillance system is any reliable indication…

… –then itseems that anything their science cannot predict is rejected… rather than usedto determine whether or not the current understanding that it supplies requiresrevision to account for the unexpected.’

[           Another pause and the tapping stops.  But this time he cannot help smiling just a bit, as if getting a tinyamount of satisfaction at his next thought before it’s promptly vocalizedtogether with a lifting of his shoulders by the very end.  ]

‘Or perhapssome individuals merely do not like to be wrong.  Who knows?’