Thinking about the Afflictions..
The Five Afflictions: A group of “monstrous” beings that haunt the dark corners of Palisade. They have been named as follows:
Dust a.k.a Pride’s Mirror a.k.a. The Looking Glass
Refrain a.k.a. Yesterday’s Reprise a.k.a. The Ghastly Chorus
Ravel a.k.a. Labyrinth’s Thread a.k.a. The Hedge Maze
Cleave a.k.a. Whetstone’s Opposite a.k.a. The Sanguine Hatchet
Oversight a.k.a. Hell’s Facade a.k.a. The Empty Garden
The Five Divines that collaborated with Palisade:
Antiquity
Reflection
Logic
Decisiveness
Affection
Seems like Refrain = Antiquity, but who are the rest?
very loose guesses:
Dust a.k.a Pride’s Mirror a.k.a. The Looking Glass -> Reflection (obvious)
Refrain a.k.a. Yesterday’s Reprise a.k.a. The Ghastly Chorus -> Antiquity
Ravel a.k.a. Labyrinth’s Thread a.k.a. The Hedge Maze -> Logic (following a thread of logic, getting lost in a maze of logic, a literal neuron in the sky)
Cleave a.k.a. Whetstone’s Opposite a.k.a. The Sanguine Hatchet -> Affection (cleave is both to cling to and to tear apart, the corruption of an affectionate relationship might look like miscommunications, crimes of passion, violence)
Oversight a.k.a. Hell’s Facade a.k.a. The Empty Garden -> Decisiveness (the illusion of choice, the illusion of confidence in a choice? i could see logic for similar reasons... or affection could work too if reading the names as references to parasocial types of affection.. but leaning towards decisiveness via process of elimination if nothing else)
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ficlet based off pld24!! big spoilers do not click unless you want to be big spoiled
also cw for discussion and depiction of death and for canon typical gross stuff (iykyk)
she doesn’t have to say it. words for a long time have not been everything for them. she steps into belgard’s hollow center, and the silks inside her shift like a sigh. “are you sure?” she asks into signet’s head.
signet reaches. takes a stretch of fabric into her hand, steps easily out into thin air and lets it catch her. the silks go to her, just barely manipulated into her hands, nothing anyone else could see.
she leans back, back, and belgard catches her. drapes around her, until everything is red silk. “they need me still.”
“they don’t have to.” the fabric ripples around her. “you can… let them figure it out. you can say no.”
signet closes her eyes. “there’s more i can do.”
“you don’t have to.”
“i know,” she says, and she does. a hard won lesson, that she could let herself be. “still. there’s- i can help. things are getting worse again.”
she breathes, steadying. “i’m worried, belgard. that they’d bring you back if they found you. the cadent thinks the same.”
instead of words, belgard gives her feelings: sympathy and sadness and a desire to reassure.
“i know you’d be okay,” signet says. “that isn’t the point. i don’t- who knows what they’d do to you. and- and none of the rest of them deserve that either. there should be a way for anyone who wants an ending to have it.”
a bit of silk stretches in to graze her cheek. “and your ending?”
“the waking cadent said,” she starts, “that she and i will have to become one being. and that i will need to die for that to happen. so some part of me-“
“right.”
“and i won’t be alone,” she says quietly. “i… i’ll want for you still. your companionship. but it won’t be like when i lost you before.”
there’s a long pause. “if you’re sure.”
~
belgard dies first. the waking cadent takes her apart, precisely powering her down and removing the parts of her that were her. belgard doesn’t feel pain exactly, but signet can feel the changes in her psyche, feel her shift and weaken down to nothing.
(it’s painful to have said their goodbyes. strange, too, when belgard’s first death had still left her semi-conscious and semi-present. she is gone, and signet can feed her absence.)
when belgard’s last sensors go down, they entomb her. the resting places they’ve set out on palisade’s moon are mostly more accessible than this, just in case there is a true emergency. for belgard, though, they put stone around her until even signet barely knows where she is. the only marker is a little gap, leading into the dark cockpit, the silks truly still for once.
after she’s gone, really gone, the waking cadent looks to signet. she reaches out a hand and in it forms a blade of ice. “are you ready, excerpt?”
“i’m not an excerpt anymore,” she says.
“of course not. you’re divine yourself.”
signet rolls her eyes. “yes, i’m ready.”
she closes her eyes. the cadent moves swiftly- signet barely feels herself be cleft in two.
~
the fleet had taken things from her before. digits and limbs and organs lost in belgard’s maintenance, detritus from her long life turned into relics. it isn’t the first time, then, that she’s come to looking through a new set of eyes. somehow, though, she can feel the difference.
are you there, excerpt? the waking cadent thinks to her.
must we use titles for each other? signet thinks back. or even names? it’s just us here.
of course. the waking cadent sounds amused. even that may be… inaccurate in its implied distinction.
her corpse looks like any other. the process of being subsumed into the waking cadent has taken longer than she expected, perhaps, because her blood and viscera has soaked into the stone a bit. her hair is matted with it.
they laboriously pick up the two halves. spare blood drips after them as they carry it over to the hole in the tomb.
any words? the waking cadent asks.
she drops the corpse in. she imagines it there, settled in among the streaming lengths of red silk like it was its nest. then, she reaches down and pulls the hatch shut.
i guess not.
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NR)DP|3:ZX9C –L
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oh i unpaused last week's ep of palisade just to hear a_w go "we're getting real Catholic over here for a second" with a small laugh
instantly got flung back in time to the minute i heard that a few days ago on the weekend and reacted very much out loud, confusing my mom
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