#faro table;

[aventvrina]

your future never existed- featuring Kakavasha & Aventurine

summary: to seize fate by the throat, we have no choice but to stake everything and kakavasha will reap for every chance (tw: descriptions of death & blood)

What's done can't be undone. All we can do is play the cards we're dealt with, and rake in as much time as possible.

When: 2157/8 amber era - ??? / ??? / ??? year

Where: [redacted] . [redacted] . Pier Point

"If I come back alive, you'll give me thirty Tanbas. Deal?" "Sorry, but that won't do. Don't forget your place, slave. You're not qualified to be at the table." "You're just a chip, a life thrown away in someone else's hands." "It's all or nothing. Don't embarrass me my lucky hound."

What toll does survival take?

Famine-boned hands clench dripping metal, the other lays flat where his body fell. It is still not a corpse, there is still breath, struggled, gurgling, weak, a pathetic show of desperation to cling onto something taken for granted. A life cut short is always a tragedy, but this is catharsis. Kakavasha takes great pleasure watching agony petrify over the slave master's face. A few system hours ago he had witnessed the same expression upon another, the last innocent who also fell by his hands, someone who had not deserved it but in the end it didn't matter. Out of thirty-five, he was the lucky winner, a feat he's forced to acknowledge for it was this victory that granted him this very moment.

He didn't do it to avenge them, corpses do not beg for retribution. He didn't do it for himself, his odds have been stacked since he first drew breath, misery written by others as a trial he must go through for a mission higher than him. He didn't do it for honor, that he never had, could never have again after all he's been put through at the hands of those who pass the chips. In the end, he did it for the seat. To steal the place at the table, to force himself upon it. To take by force the chance he was denied.

The moment feels infinite. Like a candle in the wind, life leaves the body, blood languidly spreading through the carpet much like smoke thins in the air, the only reminder that there was once a life. He can tell the exact moment it happens, there's a specific stillness to the dead, one he has grown accustomed to witness. Despite the brutality, death is a peaceful thing, it pauses time, forces it to a momentary stop, as it grants the soul a respite. Then, the eyes dull, the breath fades, and the dead is left in the quiet solace of whatever last thought crossed their mind.

His hands are cold, looking down he can see red turn copper as it dries, he wonders where he can wash it off. As it is now, there's still time before he has to move. No alarms have rang, he's smart enough to make himself scarce before the body is discovered.

But first, he must clean his hands if he's to play the game.

Death leaves a mark. It's invisible and tangible all at once, an irksome feeling that sticks to the skin no matter how many times it's washed. It's a parasite that plagues the host with it's presence. Irremovable, weighted, unseen, the subtle torment of a feasting leech.

Still, as he stands accused, unable to hide his hands, left fist shaking with the strength he clenches the chain, he cannot fail. The confidence of gambler masks even the guilt of a murderer.

The purpose was not to have him sentenced to begin with. This is, after all, where he'll finally partake in the game. All the suffering, all those corpses, all the people who pushed him forward, it was for this moment. The chip eyes the dealer in challenge. All he needs is thirty Tanbas, all he needs is that one chance that'll have him climb higher than ever. For that, the serpent must be fed. And he's willing give everything.

"Thirty Tanbas, I'll give you that, and much more than that. Wealth, status, power... the IPC will give you whatever you want, even what you don't want."

He smiles.

His name is buried. His chains are are bathed in gold. In an absurd turn, death leeches but does not kill. Still, it is felt. Aventurine's first gift to himself are gloves. Though unseen, they hide enough for him to feel that his hands won't stain the chips, at least not the innocent ones.

Aventurine is a sight. There's nothing in him that would make others question whether he's fit for the game. He's fuller, soft cheeks with color, hair clean and styled, adorned high brand clothes, expensive watches and heavy rings. He's everything he could ever hope to be. Were it not for his eyes he could almost divorce their image from one another.

He already lies so much about himself, to himself, what harm would it do to lie about his origins. But his eyes betray, the past, even buried, lingers in them. And with them comes the reputation, followed by the scorn. Still, he can work with that. If anything it's something he prefers. Were he to choose, he'd rather they hate him. At least then he can be sure there is no real interest in him. Eyes won't linger, hands won't seize what they shouldn't. He'll be free to act without giving and use them without remorse.

He straightens his jacket, the mirror reflects. Despite it all, he's still there. The blessed eyes, the exploited body, the broken soul, they're all still there. That's all he is, all he'll ever be. But it's enough. The miserable lying chip is enough to get him exactly where he needs to go.

However the destiny of the victor is that the rest are to lose. Only one player can win in the end.

"The Avgins in Sigonia... what happened to them afterward?"

"Unfortunately, there are no more Avgins in Sigonia. You're the last lucky dog."

"What about those people who helped me on planet ██? Now I can finally repay their kindness."

"They are no more, either."

The aventurine shines. They say the stones reflect their users and with that he must agree. In it's silver encase the cornerstone looks almost regal, were it not for it's natural dull shine, it could almost pass as precious. Just like him, this stone pretends to be higher, dresses for what it'll never be, yet deep down, it stays the same.

But if the stone is the same as him, then it's completely worthless. In the end, it'll be shattered beyond recognition, it's value diminish, it's color dull, abandoned, replaced. There's several fates for the mocking glint and it's aeonic power. Still, the stone's fate should not be his. It may reflect his heart but it's delusional if it thinks that he cannot live without it. The void it tries to fill is far more bigger than a cornerstone. So he lets it shine it's mockery, lets it whisper what he has always thought of himself. It doesn't matter.

He already buried Kakavasha, he can bury Aventurine too.

It was a success. In the end, Aventurine lives while the cornerstone is but dust. And even if that in itself would frighten even the higher ups, the sacrilege of erasing a part of Qlipoth's power themselves, he could really care less. He's back exactly where it started and his end hasn't changed. He cannot be afraid of what he has always known. As he did all those years ago, he'll wager for his place again.

There's a certain thrill that satisfies that hollowness, the leech feasts in delight with every gamble he takes. In the game of unexpected hanging, he wins by expecting death at every hour. Diamond won't sentence him, and even if he does, there's always a chance.

He has made it this far and he can go further. There's no bigger pleasure than testing the boundaries of his destined death.

And what toll does survival take?

The past? The future? Others? Himself?

At least he survives. At least he can say that.

Whatever he killed to survive, within or without, at least there’s enough left of him to say it.

At least he's still sitting at the table, he's still playing.

[aventvrina]

Blessed Day - featuring Aventurine

summary: aventurine is witness to the beginning of a new era on his birthday

"I want to tell you this story without having to confess to anything, I want to tell you this story without having to be in it."

When- first day of the year in Avgin calendar "Kakava" - 2158 AE (beginning of a new era)

Where- Pier Point

"The stardust are simply insignificant dust to the Amber Lord, but to us, every speck of it contains the essence of Preservation."

Pier Point's sky feels dull in comparison to Sigonia. It was hard to accept that he had come to associate the blinding lights below as the only stars he'll see from his apartment. In the vastness of black there's only one thing that can be perceptible midst the void, the sole motive for the existence of this place, the reminder of their purpose, the eternal mission of the Amber Lord, the subspace barrier. Aventurine can understand the near blinding faith the IPC has to it's Aeon. It's hard to deny what is tangible, hard to dismiss the noble act of protection and even harder to ignore THEIR numerous blessings.

Every time the hammer strikes Point Pier rejoices with the shattering tremble, awaiting eagerly for whatever parts their aeon has chipped from themselves with the action. It's parasitic behavior, like ants collecting crumbles of sugar from the leftovers. How grateful they are for sustenance, how benevolent this god is to have given all they could ever ask for. How cathartic to be trembled by their foot, a worthy death dictated merely cause their god chose to move.

He leans against the cool railing taking in the dullness of the lightscape. On the few nights work has left him too restless to sleep he finds himself on his balcony overseeing the city, letting the murmurs of life drown his existence in such a way that he feels part of the song. Tonight though, it's not work that keeps him awake but the notion that it has been another year breathing. Before he had felt lonely. Sigonia-IV has lovely skies, from dusk till dawn, the spectacle of colors and stars move across the canvas in slow swirls. Later he would come to understand the phenomenon was due to it being in the middle of three star clusters, this also being responsible for the fact that his planet was too barren to be able to sustain life. Yet Sigonia still breathed, it's people grew in the impossible and with it, came the understanding that it was due to one being. Gaiathra's body is a vast desert but once, she had been proper, the lands were brimming, the hills alive and her voice echoed through the vales. Now there's only silence, the silence that only the dead can offer.

Aventurine can still remember the night after the rain. The sky had cleared after what felt like a lifetime, the night was still high, boundless stars slowly moving through the colorful tapestry as if nothing had happened. He remembers falling to the wet sand, too weak to move, exhausted despite his racing heart. He remembers the cold, his shivering body, stomach cramping as he oozed out all and nothing at once. But above all, he remembers the stars. The stars were there and they were quiet. Silent. Indifferent to his broken wailing as reality cruelly sunk. He was alone, truly alone. And nothing would ever change that. Sigonia proved itself worthy of it's title, it was unclaimed, but irrefutably, desolation.

In that moment a wave is felt throughout the cosmos and Aventurine clutches hard on the railing before he can fall. His eyes are on the wall, perplexed at what just happened. Qlipoth has moved their hammer. It's the beginning of a new amber age. From the sky he sees it. The fall of stardust, the amber rain. It's a beautiful sight to witness, it expands in the dark, a trickle of beautiful gold slowly filling the void. Raining down on Pier Point like blessed rain.

He had just witnessed a miracle. Something made the Amber Lord use their hammer, something drew their indifferent gaze enough to have them shatter for the zealots bellow. It takes a few minutes before the feeling of the starquake is over and the station to come alive. Aventurine stands where he is. Too stunned to move, just watching. He can't help but to think of his sister.

Like her, the people in Pier Point are also hearing a call from the rain. They rush to the outside in hopes of getting to the nearest vehicle that'll get them closest to the wall. A frenzy of dots move rapidly within the lights bellow and once again he finds that he hears nothing. Perhaps their noise is too loud for him to hear the aeons voice. Perhaps he is once again excluded of whatever higher plane everyone but him seems to be.

He gazes at the wall. Behind it there should be a massive monolith, there should be the indifferent gaze of Qlipoth, unconcerned with the motion THEY created with a simple swing of the hammer. Unaware that THEY dictated that a new Amber Era has started. That THEY announced change for the universe and made humanity tremble with it's quake.

Aventurine scoffs. It is truly a blessed day.