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Post by Cion on Aug 26, 2017 14:49:15 GMT
Sometimes, there is no right answer...She had been outside her home for much longer than she had thought she would. An hour she had told Owen, but many of them were passing her by like they were seconds. It was well into the dark, stormy night in which heavy rain raged perpetually as she slowly crept through the streets and alleys of Terminus less reputable parts. She had nothing on her that protected her from the rainfall. Only the small, green scarf around her neck covered the vulpine digimon's frame, a keepsake she had not removed in lifetimes. Violent winds disheveled her silver fur and white pelts and tail, but she did not care. With a constant, emotionless gaze, her golden eyes pierced the darkness like glowworms. She herself barely realized where she was going, or why she was moving at all, but her spirit did not halt her body. The deepest recesses of her mind were the only thing that mattered to her in this cold night. She did not express happiness, sadness, fear nor confusion. She seemed empty, and that was how she felt on the inside as well. While... her talk with Owen... had ended in reconciliation, she knew things would never be the same. Despite them being by each other's side, despite cherishing their millennia old bond, despite hoping that there were many more lives to come in which they would do good for the world.. there was something that had changed. She was no longer the only, most important digimon in his existence. He had a new love, even a son formed out of his data. At best, she was the aunt of the family, of which she barely knew son Logan, and has not even met Owen's new love. The time she and him shared affection with seemed over, but... he was still the only, most imporant digimon in her life, just like in the first day of her existence where she had met him. Unlike him, she did not only remember the facts about their two previous lives, but also the feelings. For hundreds of years, Cion had always been by his side, even if her body and voice had changed thanks to his positive influence on her core. They had friends and others they lived together with, but... he was still always the one true thing that mattered to her. This feeling was no longer mutual, and she did not know how to cope with this, no matter how hard she tried to think about a way so they could live in peace together. She knew she was not alone, and just had to return home to be by... the digimon who was now her brother, and cute, little Logan. But there were still the feelings of a past no longer present she had to deal with. She knew she would never find happiness if she could not put her past behind her, and it would only lead to more discord in her family. But she did not know where to begin. Thousands of years... a single night changed everything. Only a single digimon or two were on a street at any given time, passing by Cion without her paying them any attention. By now, she truly was in the more felonious part of Terminus, in which chaotic digimons mostly did as they pleased. Life was a bit more active here, but still hushed like the rain. That was until a single Gargomon stepped outside a house, behind which a group of Gazimon were. "A bit dangerous for an innocent young lady, isn't it?" The creature asked with a deep, monstrous tone to his voice. But the Arnamon payed the dark impetus of the entity no mind, simply continuing to walk. That was until it suddenly ran towards her, heavy steps echoing throughout the streets. "I was talking to you, little brat!" It immediately dropped its facade in an attempt to incapacitate Cion. It could not even have time to blink before the hulking creature could feel her tiny foot inside its stomach, feeling the power of a digimon that transcended its power even in her Rookie-form. The force of the kick pushed the entity backwards, and as it impacted with a wall, it collapsed onto the wet, cold ground. The Gazimons looked with terror at their broken leader, and then at the golden eyes of Cion that seemed to pierce their very souls with pain and anguish they could not even imagine. Burning like the sun, they were too afraid to even move an inch, much less help Gargomon back to their hideout. And as Cion put down her leg again, her head turning away from them as she tilted her gaze slightly towards the shrouded, dark sky, she did not move for a couple of moments. She did not care about what just happened, much less the fates of those criminals. All she cared about... was the choice she had to make. Though only a subconcious memory, there had indeed been a reason why here body had brought her here in these vile parts of Terminus. And she wondered, as she started to realize it, if she could act upon it.
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Post by Bonetrousled? on Sept 5, 2017 5:04:01 GMT
Terminus City was far too big to be kept orderly 24/7. While in some regards it was a shining pillar of Digital civilization, in other regards it was more wild and threatening than any source of wild Digimon. The homes here tended to fall into disarray, more like ruins than actual habitual areas. Tougher punks roamed the streets, looking to exert dominance over others of their ilk until a wayward target showed their face. The lighting that made Terminus visible from all across the Network Plains was practically absent here, leaving it shrouded in a perpetual shade that was only occasionally interrupted by a neon flickering. Unmasked by the hustle and bustle of crowds, the rain roared furiously and without interruption. To those looking for an escape, these were the parts of Terminus to never head towards. To those looking for a home, it was even less so.
And yet, some did make their home there. Many boarded-up businesses lined these streets, used as impromptu shelters at best and vandalized at worst. Occasionally prying eyes poked out from behind boarded up windows, hissing at whoever passed to go away. However, for the most part they were still, reminders of attempts at bettering a part of town that had long fallen into decay.
Except for one. As a certain Arnamon walked the streets, perhaps someone would take notice of her plight. Maybe it was just the wind, but the "CLOSED" sign hanging from the roof of a quaint looking building slowly rotated to say "OPEN." The wind could have also jingled a small bell to get her attention. It could have also slowly blown the door of the building open, casting the soft glow of a fire's light onto the streets.
Inside, predictably, no one would be there. There would be a set of plush looking chairs, of course, the exact comfort would need after a long day of aching. There would also be the smell of something baking in the oven nearby. There would be a fireplace crackling away by the chairs, briefly overwhelming the chill of the rain. There were also shelves upon shelves of books, although many of them had grown so worn from the passage of time that they seemed to barely be holding themselves together.
Was it happenstance? Or was it an invitation of sorts? |
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Post by Cion on Sept 5, 2017 16:40:03 GMT
The criminals she had encountered long a forgotten memory, Cion felt her mind and body growing forworn from the hours of mindless walking and thinking. Unlike her stamina, the rain storm persisted, probably lasting until the next day, if not for longer. Most of her soaked fur and pelt was slopy, her once graceful appearance now only comparable to a wet cat. The only thing about her body that remained prim was Owen's green scarf around her neck, as if the data within it was consciously resisting the effects of the dark night.
And despite how much she had pushed herself to the edge of breakdown, her hands were just as empty as before. Taking in a deep breath, she noticed the lights of the building next to her turning on, although it was not much of a concern to her. Feeling her legs close to giving way, she sat down on the building's stairs, the rain partially blocked by the house's facade. The stone beneath her body was as cold as everything else in this night, and as the Arnamon looked down on her knees, she noticed her visible breath for the first time. It was... strange, since she did not feel cold, or much of anything else.
Just as her soul was to surrender to what she felt inside, her ears twitched when she heard the noise of something banging against a window. Tilting her head towards the building behind her, she quickly recognized the source of the sound, which was a sign waving in the storm's wind. It said 'OPEN', which made the Arnamon conclude that this was some sort of establishment, but what purpose it served was beyond her. In all honesty, she did not care either. Usually, she would have turned her back to it and left, but there was something about it that startled her.
The house' door slowly opened by itself, likely blown open by the wind, and nobody would reveal themselves in the hallway. The hinges did not look damage, so why had it opened? Uncertain about what had gotten over her, Cion felt the urge to at least tell the owner of this establishment about the apparently broken door. Slowly standing up, her legs weak and shaky, the vulpine digimon walked up the stairs and stretched her inside the house. "Ex... Excuse me? Is somebody here? Your... ähmm... door opened by itself."
She spoke quietly, although the echo should be loud enough to reach anyone inside the house. It was then that she first noticed of how wonderfully decorated it was; so untypical in comparison to the rest of Terminus' lower neighborhoods. From a few meters afar, she saw an inviting living room with a carmine, and the smell of baked goods quickly rose into her nostrils. A digimon or human that baked in the middle in the night; how odd. Some of the other furniture she noticed as old and ragged, but still serves its purpose.
Overall, it was a close to an ideal little home as she could imagine. It reminded her of her own apartment she shared with Owen... especially because it seemed empty, with her being the only there. But ultimately, it made Cion wonder why there was even an 'OPEN' sign outside. What kind of company could this be, looking just like a comfortable home?
Coughing somewhat heavily into a hand, she felt her lungs stinging as the warmth of the carmine's fire steadily un-numbed her body. Gosh, what had she done to her health all these hours? The way her fur and pelt looked... pneumonia was practically guaranteed.
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Post by Bonetrousled? on Sept 8, 2017 4:24:20 GMT
For the longest while, Cion's call would go unanswered. Only her own echo would answer her, somewhat distorted by the crackling fire and hollow wind. "By itself . . . itself . . . itself . . ." it commented, softening until soon it sounded even smaller and more worried than Cion already must have felt. Nevertheless, that was the only response Cion would hear for the longest time. It didn't seem like anyone owned this building, and yet the inside of this house was in impeccably good repair. There wasn't even a speck of dust to be seen, compared to the hole-ridden outsides and clammy air that surrounded it. It almost seemed like a portal to elsewhere, rather than an actual part of this region of Terminus City.
Furthermore, it seemed like other passers-by didn't even see what Cion was seeing. A Tsukaimon scampered past, profile low and ears covering its head to prevent bullies from noticing it in the darkness. As it started to pass Cion, however, it started slowing its movement to a crawl. It shot her a look as if she was going crazy, debating on whether to speak with her about it or not. Then it mumbled "Not my problem," under its breath before fleeing from the scene. Tsukaimon wasn't about to get its butt kicked just because some Digimon was going crazy in the corner!
Unlike what one would expect, the heated air didn't get colder when faced with the frigid outsides of Terminus City. In fact, it seemed to only get warmer and more inviting, the air almost swirling around Cion as if to drag her into the room. The smell of lightly scented candles and baked goods danced around her, and with it a voice seemed to follow.
"All doors open for a reason, my dear," it said, almost supernaturally soft and gentle. It was a perfectly androgynous voice, and compared to the gruff tone that most Digimon here harbored it stood out like a sore thumb. "Only you can decide what that means."
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Post by Cion on Sept 8, 2017 17:05:53 GMT
For the longest time, her call remained unanswered, only her own echo temporarily granting her company. It was bizarre and a bit alarming to find this perfectly fine mix of home and establishment completely empty of living beings inside, or at least someone who would eventually respond to her. Many strange hypotheses crept inside Cion's mind, making her think she might be in some sort of bad horror movie. All of this just did not seem right, and many voices within her told her to just turn around and lock away her desire for answers and conclusions... but her heart remained persistent.
Barely made the Arnamon notice of the Tsukaimon that past her by, which carried both confusion and antipathy in its voice. Still, it made her wonder if it knew about what this establishment was supposed to be, and why it was so scary. But before she could even change her mind and accept the help of another, it had already vanished into the rainy dark of the night. No, just like with everything else, she was alone to face this endeavor; if it even was one.
Because, honestly speaking, the warmth coming from within has been inviting to her unlike anything else in weeks or months. Strangely enough, she felt more at home here than she currently did in her apartment, and after a brief moment of hesitation she took a single step inside. But it was not only the warmth, but also the smells of baking delicacies that numbed her reasoning, clinging to the most basic desires inside her. She was exhausted, hungry, thirsty and full of anguish of mind. Anything to at least sate one of those cravings was fine by her.
The sudden appearance of a voice, regardless of how gentle it was, made her shrink back and nervously look at every corner she saw. "W-who said that?" Cion asked, not trying to tremble in any possible way. To her... it at least seemed the entity behind the voice was benign and welcoming, but she was not sure if she was to believe that. She had, just a few hours ago, learned the truth about what having confidence in others lead to. Both strangers and those bonded to you; the chance of receiving pain in any form was equal.
The Arnamon hesitated, contemplating the words that the disembodied voice spoke. For one some reason, it appeared to comprehend her, as if it had the ability to look into her mind. Perhaps that was the case, or perhaps she was simply delirious at this point without yet comprehending it. Still, she understood that the voice tried to tell her. "When one door closes, another opens..." She spoke quietly; this proverb being one of the most well-known in both the digital and the human world. It was both comfort and truth in one, and a reminder that one could never know what life had in store for anyone, be it positive or negative.
Cion did not speak, but she knew why she took a couple more steps forward after closing the door shut. Reaching the entrance to the living room, her mind was set. She knew what she wanted, and whatever this place was might provide the solution she needed. She was not afraid of falling into a trap, as in her current state of mind, she could not perceive anything left she could lose. On the contrary, she wanted a door closed, so that she could finally see for her own, unguided by Owen, open doors for herself. She wanted peace with him and her past, so she could live in peace for future days to come.
"May I ask who you are; and what this establishment is? I saw the 'OPEN'-sign." She calmly spoke into the void, only now realizing what a mess she was. Many drops fell down the tips of her fur and pelt, making her glad that there was no carpet on the floor. "Oh dear... I apologize." She coughed and sneezed without secretion coming out of her nose; her mind starting to feel and comprehend how strained her body was at the moment.
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Post by Bonetrousled? on Sept 12, 2017 21:44:39 GMT
As if the mood of this house wasn't ominous enough already, the door swung closed the second that Cion had set foot inside. Surprisingly enough, it hadn't slammed shut with the force that one would expect from a door closing in a storm. Instead, it slid into place gently, as if being guided by an invisible hand. If Cion missed the soft "thunk" sound of the door shutting, she might not even realize that the door closed in the first place!
The voice laughed warmly as Cion asked who it belonged to. "Why, I did," it said, clearly amused. This answer helped approximately nobody, but it was certainly entertaining for at least one of this conversation's two participants.
From there it grew silent, merely observing as Cion made a few observations about her current mental state. "Wise words," it commented, hearing her quiet statement loud and clear. "And I can tell, ones quite spoken from the heart. Has a door closed in your life recently, dear one?" The air seemed to turn warmer and heavier around Cion, as if attempting to help stem the tide of drops coming from her fur. The poor thing didn't exactly look great right now, between the water weighing her down physically and the woes weighing her down emotionally. "Clearly an outwards door, rather than an inwards door. Otherwise you would not be braving such a storm, no?" it added.
Still, Cion's apologies about her position earned another warm laugh from the voice. "You have nothing to apologize for. Not when you're lost," it said. "It is only when you have found yourself anew that the need to apologize arises. We wouldn't want you to trouble yourself over what isn't your fault.
You may call me Daomon." Despite this proclamation, Daomon did not choose to reveal itself just yet. Instead its voice continued to float throughout the room, seemingly existing everywhere and nowhere at the same time. "And think of this not as an establishment, but a home open to those who need it the most.
Won't you take a rest and tell me what brings you here?"
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Post by Cion on Sept 13, 2017 18:48:47 GMT
Cion briefly stopped when the door behind her closed, but strangely enough she did not find herself startled. It was not like a nightmare was attempting to impose terror on her, but a kind spirit acting as courteous as possible to make her feel welcome. She was not yet sure if she trusted that spirited, though it was nothing personal, but to be polite and respectful, she took the invitation. In case something went wrong, she knew how powerful she was and could defend herself. Besides, at this point in time... she could not fathom anything she had to lose anyway.
"Go figures..." Cion responded kindly to the vain if amusing response of the astral voice. Briefly chuckling, she rolled her eyes and let out a quiet sigh. "Well, I am Cion; if you wish to call me by name. Pleased to meet you." She added calmly, taking a couple steps through the hallway towards what appeared to be the living room of this house. It was still odd calling it that way in her point of view, since this building was seemingly meant to be an establishment of sorts, but she did not know how else to describe it.
As she beheld the fire of the carmine from afar, the Arnamon listened to the words of the bodyless voice which appeared to caress her soul. Was this the purpose of this establishment perhaps; to bring ease to troubled spirits like her? If that was the case, then she felt bad that she had no money on her currently. Still, for the time being, she remained open to the entity that spoke to her. "It did, this same night. A door that was open... longer than most can comprehend." She spoke with almost no emotion to her voice, hushed yet audible.
She answered this way because she was still reserved about imposing her emotions upon others, especially strangers. Cion had always been the one to support others, even in her previous existences. When someone needed an ear, she'd listen. When someone needed a hand, she'd give it to them. If someone did not see the end of their path, she'd follow and assist. She was not one to ask anything from someone else, and often gained content purely by the smiles they gave her. Her dearly beloved was always the guiding light that kept her on the pathers of others and fueled her with determination, but with that aspect partially gone... it felt like a 1000 years of dependancy started tearing her mind apart. She had only helped, and never had her own path to travel.
But the warm around her felt warm, like the voice which owned this establishment. Perhaps she was not alone with this mentality, or a similar one. Of course Cion was not the only entity out in the worlds which enjoyed what they were doing, contributing to a better world, but the last thing she had ever imagined was someone else but the one she lost... caring for her.
"Honestly... I hadn't made notice of the storm. Much less anything else." The Arnamon replied in the same manner as before, although slightly cheering up at the end. She could feel her body dry and being overcome by exhaustion and likely the beginnings of a sickness. But at the kind words that the ethereal voice spoke, she felt little warmth caressing her heart. "Then I'll apologize... if I find myself anew." She promised, wondering what exactly the being meant with that. Did it perhaps already know about her thought of severing everything she ever felt for the one she shared a past with? Could it perhaps help her with that?
Sheepishly lauging alongside the entity, her ears peaked when it told her its name. So... it was a digimon after all, was it? She had never conciously heard of a Daomon before, although she felt like familiar regardless. She could not quite put her finger on it, nor did it ultimately matter. The Daomon was who it was, just like she was who she was. "Thank you, Daomon." She responded as she took a seat on one of the chairs close to the carmine. Hesitation in her movement was gone, replaced solely by fatigue.
"Honestly... nothing. I'm not sure where I am, and I just wanted to let you know that your door was open. Didn't want your home to suffer damage from moisture. Though... I suppose it wasn't open by accident, was it?" Cion answered, much more joy in her voice than before. However, this was still the truth. She was not sure what was going on, and simply considered this to be a fine yet strange meeting of two digimons. Was there more to it she did not fathom?
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Post by Bonetrousled? on Sept 24, 2017 19:50:48 GMT
"Then I shall call you as you prefer, Cion," the voice said. "Some say it is fortunate to have a name as such. It reminds you of your place in the world, does it not? When several are left responding to the same name, it can be quite easy to lose one's footing." Names themselves seemed to be a rarity in the Digital World, to a degree. However, the novelty of it seemed to entertain and interest Daomon quite a bit, at least. "When did you first claim yours? Or, perhaps, was it granted by another?"
The door had been open for a long, long while, it seemed. So long, perhaps, that some would forget the door was even there. Now the closure of it seemed to make it all the more painful, especially when by now Cion would've likely thought it more a window. "My sincere apologies," Daomon said, voice soft and gentle. The sensory inputs in the room almost seemed to intensify out of sympathy for Cion, as if hoping to help distract her from her troubles. It was like a soothing blanket, except made entirely out of warmth and pleasant smells. "Such doors are often the most shocking to see come to a close. If I may ask, what sort of door might this be?"
She had been so shocked that she didn't even notice the storm. Freezing water and booming thunder were nothing compared to the mental torment currently encircling her, were they? Such a poor, sad creature. At least she seemed to be heading more towards self-actualization now. Her promise seemed unsure, and yet Daomon could feel a sense of conviction behind it. The house seemed to brighten up ever so slightly, its dusky atmosphere taking a slight turn for the more optimistic. Daomon wasn't even present, and yet the house seemed to hold the vibe that they were smiling.
"No need to thank me, my dear," Daomon said, a far more literal blanket draping over the chair for Cion. "You need rest, and here I shall provide. Is that not simply the way of things?"
A mirthful laugh echoed through the room at Cion's latest question. "Is anything in this world truly an accident?" Daomon replied, answering Cion's question with another. "Perhaps a better term would be fate, no?"
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Post by Cion on Sept 26, 2017 18:56:24 GMT
"But it's also... bizarre... if it is not the only name you carry... or have once carried. Besides, there are many more ways to lose one's footing." Cion replied honestly, wondering what Daomon's intentions where to make such profound statements. Was the digimon attempting to make her contemplate where she truly belonged, and what joys and burdens her name and memory contained? "I don't know. I reincarnated into this world with it. My once more masculine frame named Voughn changed and had turned feminine, and the name that came to my mind was Cion. I... like how it sounds." The Arnamon answered, unable to help herself but let out a little chuckle. It was a silly reason for a specific name, was it not?
"You are not to blame, but thank you." Cion stated as the presence of comfort slowly eased her spirit and relaxed her body. It was likely another aspect of the Daomon's support; the ability to manipulate atmosphere in one sense or ther other. Ultimately, it made her feel warm and comfortable, which she was grateful for. She did not know its impetus, but by now she was certain it was pure. That was why, despite how much her next answer hurt her to her very core, she at least attempted to remain calm. "A bond of love that had lasted for a couple of lifetimes... since my first day of existence to be precise."
From her very first day where she was still an Impmon and thought of Owen as a thief, to how they and the others vanquished the oppressive CaptainHookmon and liberated File Island, and the many centuries they worked together as heroes for hire; and then when she was reborn on that Rakiura server as a Lambmon together with him, becoming faithful Watchmons and protectors of civilization, to today. Reminiscing about the centuries, she found herself gently stroking over her small, green scarf. It was his... just like he carried hers.
Despite her anguish, another chuckle of delight escaped her lips when Daomon expressed more of his kindness and generosity. Not many digimons were as kind-hearted as it, which made her appreciate it even more. Gently, she leaned into the soft chais, her eyes closing ever so slightly has comfort and exhaustion gnawed at her. The soft and warm blanket did not make keeping awake easier, but perhaps a little rest was something she needed anyway. "I wish it was. I worked hard for it, but there is still lots of egoism and savagery in the world... unfortunately." She spoke quietly, feeling like her centuries of semi-altruistic behavior had partially been in vain. Though... perhaps digimons like Daomon alone had been worth it.
Still, she strangely found herself disagreeing with Daomon for once, although she stated her point of view in a calm and friendly manner. "I don't believe in fate... completely at least. You can't change the circumstances of your birth, and sometimes obstacles are too great to be overcome, yes. But is it not destiny, one's choice, that often defines the world and others living in it? Is not everything ultimately cause and effect in one form or the other, and the expression of will unbound by fate?" She asked partially rhetorical, wondering about Daomon's opinion. Furthermore, she wondered about the reason that no longer made Owen want her to be his most important.
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Post by Bonetrousled? on Oct 7, 2017 1:37:50 GMT
"So it is a name you have chosen from the beginning, then?" Daomon asked. "And yet, as you say, it is not quite the beginning so much as a new starting point. Fortunately enough, also a starting point you seem to have chosen for yourself." Maybe eventually this strange fox would pick a starting point to enter the room through, because they still seemed to be keeping somewhat of a distance from their guest. Compared to the emotional warmth and closeness that they were working towards, the unambiguous physical distance was quite the contrast.
That said, judging by the contemplative noise echoing around the room, something had caught Daomon's attention. "You seem to find this silly. Why?" they wondered. Was the Digimon poking around in her mind now, or was that just a lucky intuition? "Names are for calling each other by, is it not? I'd imagine liking how it sounds is the most important element, no? There's no shame in such."
So it was a bond of love that troubled Cion? "Ah. I had the feeling this was the matter," Daomon said, making gentle "tsk, tsk" noises. "Few things are as capable of lifting us up, or of bringing us down. Especially when you say it yourself that it has been a bond that held for a long time."
Part of Cion's story seemed to involve a lot of attempts at making the world a better place, which made the savagery still inherit in the world especially painful for her. "I know what you speak of. I live right next to it, after all," Daomon said. They were in the worst part of Terminus City, were they not? "I've seen friends betraying friends. I've seen the innocent being tormented just because they are weaker. I've seen others turn their nose up at problems as if they didn't even exist. It hurts to witness, does it not? And yet, when one tries to carry the world's problems on their shoulders, they bear that hurt far more than they might know."
The final of the three big topics that the duo had been juggling was fate. Cion seemed not to believe, even if she acknowledged that life was far too complex to be ruled entirely by one's own desires. "Is that not what fate ultimately is?" Daomon asked. "We live in a world of decisions, far more the decisions of others than our own. These countless choices have set us out a path, not through some grand design but simply the independent actions of everyone you've known. From there, it is up to us to determine how we navigate these "fates", no?
I can tell you have a lot on your shoulders. Justice and injustice. Love and loss. Ages of experience. Tell me, what is your story, Cion?"
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Post by Cion on Oct 7, 2017 9:36:19 GMT
"Well... not quite. Can one truly choose their starting point, or just hope it suits what you desire?" Cion asked, not believing that it had been her and Owen's choice to be reborn in the Village of Beginnings. No, they had the fortune that it had happened again, maybe due to the bond their data shared due to their centuries, if not millennia, of being together. Honestly, she did not know, and she doubt there would ever be a conclusive answer. That was why she often did not think about such aspects and instead focused on the here and now.
Still, she was a bit perplexed when Daomon apparently displayed the ability to read her thoughts. It was a bit rude in her point of view, but far was it from her to explain herself. "You misunderstood my thoughts. I didn't think names were silly, I thought that the reason I picked this particular name, Cion, was silly, or at least based on nothing but the fine sound to it. It's really nothing important, as I like the name." She stated calmly, the soft blanket and the warmth of the chimney's fire soothing both body and soul.
Regardless, it remained clearly difficult to Cion talking about what currently hurt her very core. "True..." The vulpine digimon replied, knowing how much joy and pain love or affection in general could bring. She coughed once, the cold steadily fading from her system. Nonetheless, she did not expect to wake up healthy if she was ever to fall asleep this night, wherever that would be. But she was sidetracking her mind again, and clearly there were more important topics to discuss. After all, the host appeared to have the pure intention to help her out, though in what way she did not yet comprehend.
"True again." Cion spoke, realizing that Daomon still managed to blossom despite being surrounded by egoism and conflict. She did not like the idea of a bad part of a city, but how was she going to change that about Terminus? In her current state, despite her power, she clearly couldn't nor wouldn't. Despite of that, it was like Daomon knew her to the very core, causing a sorrowful frown to taint her muzzle. "It hurts... and all efforts seem in vain. That in turn... enrages me at times. I just... can't accept that this is the unyielding status quo." She admitted, a small fire of fervor starting to burn in her golden eyes. There were... many things she just couldn't accept, both Weltschmerz and her own pain.
Thinking about Daomon's words, she realized that they were contrasting red apples with crimson apples. They were essentially speaking of the same thing, just named it differently. Daomon called it fate, Cion called it destiny, as they considered different aspects more dominant than others. "I suppose we think alike, just call the current state of everything differently." She concluded, a little chuckle escaping her lips. "You are a bit of a determinist it seems, and I am more of a indeterminist. Maybe because I like to have a sense of control over myself."
Daomon's next question however put the brief joy she experienced down again. She leaned forward a little, hands folded and resting on the blanket. She let out a quiet sigh, golden eyes often shifting as she did not even know how to begin. "Where should I even start, and with what? Besides... I'd like to talk to you face to face, if you don't mind." She admitted yet again, hoping that she was not too pushy in asking her new companion to finally reveal himself. She preferred things to be... personal, especially when it was about something so personal.
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Post by Bonetrousled? on Oct 21, 2017 16:33:35 GMT
"You felt what you liked, and you chose to keep a hold on it yourself," Daomon explained. Whether they were talking about the name Cion or Owen, it was a statement quite applicable to both. "Many of us are not so fortunate, beginning with not even a thought in their head. True, we may not be so lucky as to choose the very details of our starting point, but you at least had the all-important first step to yourself. It was better than suddenly waking up and being spoonfed by an Elecmon, at least. Why was that always how these things started?
Daomon, too, had been somewhat misunderstood by Cion. "I know what I have said," they repeated, calmly. "The sound is what you hear every time one must say the name, no? In that regard, such a 'silly' reason may actually be one of the most important reasons there is. Still, I am glad the name has been good to you thus far."
A sad sigh echoed through the room as Cion mentioned the cruelty of the world, as if Daomon too was meditating on the status quo. "Is it all in vain, though?" Daomon asked. "Surely, in your attempts at changing this status quo, you have met countless others. Some friends, some strangers, even some enemies. And surely, your deeds and words have at least resonated with some. And each of those, have they not met countless others as well? And their words and deeds, will they not also resonate with others? You won't change the world in a day. It'd be foolish to say any of us would. But everything you do has a ripple, somewhere in the world, and each ripple is bound to cause several others.
The status quo may be too big for any lone one of us. But I can guarantee, you have done more than your fair share just being you."
Daomon hummed curiously as Cion asked where to start. "The beginning, perhaps," they suggested. "Or maybe the end, and work your way back from there. There are quite a few ways to tell a tale, each better than the other in their own ways. Perhaps just try talking, and see where your story naturally takes itself?" If Cion was worried about Daomon hiding through this conversation, she wouldn't have to for long. The next time she blinked, Daomon would be sitting in the chair across from hers. With their faded silver fur and washed out looking robes, they seemed every bit as tired as one who lived in this part of town normally would. The expression on their face was unreadable, and yet their eyes sparked with a strange warmth and curiosity. Judging by how comfortably they sat it almost seemed like they were her this whole time, but that seemed impossible. They turned to Cion, motioning for her to continue.
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Post by Cion on Oct 22, 2017 10:28:42 GMT
"I suppose... and yes. It seems my name is not getting in my way." Was her simple, yet sincere reply. Cion had never considered the importance of a name, much less her own name, but listening to Daomon made her think about what it implied. It was true, she had arrived at this server with more thoughts and wisdom than most others. Unlike many others, this was not her first incarnation, not even her second. She had a certain amount of perspective, and wishes that pushed her in a direction she was mostly comfortable with. Even without really remembering anything, these were aspects of her core; always lingering.
Listening to Daomon's statements about their effects on the world, the Arnamon was honestly not certain if she should take them by heart. Certainly they were inspiring, but to her, it felt like not much had changed, only shifted. "Not even more than a thousand years were enough." The vulpine digimon spoke under her breath, realization of her faint results disillusioning her. Despite that, her companion's words were balm to her soul. No matter how small the impact, she had done so much to help out wherever she could, both in the past and present.
Cion smiled despite the words that would escape her lips at that time. "Nevertheless... it seems the world has remained the same. Civilization and wildness, altruism and narcissism, peace and conflict. I just... don't understand why many would choose to live just for themselves in apathy towards the fate of those they hurt. There is no need to fight, no need for crime, no need for exclusion. If everyone just realized that for one minute..." She stopped and sigh, shaking her head weakly, knowing how naive her wish was, and slightly hypocritical "Pipe dreams... well at least they keep me pushing forward."
The silver digimon could not help herself but laugh a little at Daomon's partially absurd suggestion. Summarizing three entire lives within the span of half an hour or so; was that not unfair to herself? But... the hospitable digimon had the impetus to take care of her, so she would at least try. Strangely, Cion was not startled at all when Daomon suddenly appeared in front of her, sitting calmly in the chair opposite to her. It had always been there after all, but it was nice to finally see its physical form. Leaning forwards, she rested her arms on her legs, calmly looking Daomon in the eyes.
"Well... then I start from the very beginning." And so, Cion began to tell Daomon what her millennium, if not millennia long existence contained. She explained how she had first come into existence as a male Impmon named Voughn, having a core that formed itself out of remaining data from three friends that had perished a very, very long time ago, even if she did not know that for a long time. She would tell him about her short journey to the ruins of the large city of File Island, and how she had met Owen there, her second friend and soon DNA-digivolution partner. This was how their bond had started.
She would tell her host about the war they had there with CaptainHookmon, unable to digivolve above Champion due to a firewall, and its hate towards humans. They had vanquished his generals and in the end him too, but at the cost of the complete annihilation of that File Island. After that, finally able to leave without the firewall, she and Owen had left for another, much more modern continent to join an organization similar to P.R.O.F.I.T., though with much more good-natured intentios. To put it simply, they had spent the remaining centuries of this life as heroic mercenaries.
Giving over each other's scarves, Owen her red one and he his green one they still carried around their necks every day, they died together at old age. With the hope that carrying a part of each other would make their destinies become one, they were reborn on their Rakiura server houndreds of years later. While it took them some time for Voughn, back then a unique Lambmon, and Owen still a Gaomon, they eventually did and realized who they were. Giving up his life as a feral digimon, Voughn joined Owen and their best friend Randy the Veemon to become a Watchmon; sentinels of Rakiura's civilization.
Overall, through many challenges and triumphs, she and Owen had once again, alongside Randy and his love, lived as defenders of the innocent and terror for those wicked. It was almost like a repeat of the first life with different beginnings, but that had never bothered Cion. As long as she was together with her beloved Gaomon, doing good for others and the world in general, she was happy and content. She believed that this would have never changed until the day all digimons became kind in nature forever. But... she had been wrong.
In this life, Owen had always been far more distant than above, and with a much bigger desire to explore the world, mostly being against her joining him. For some reason, they had been reborn so unlike them, and it was this what truly tore at her. Because unlike the Gaomon, she did not only remember the core parts of her memory, but also the feelings. In her words, he had been unfaithful towards everything they had ever been and done, robbing her of her purpose and perspective in life. The seed of love HE had implanted in her lives ago with the suggestion of DNA-digivolving, which had grown into a radiant flower of lies, he had burned to ashes with complete apathy towards her. And that very same night, she was now here.
Cion finished, her golden eyes almost glaring as she bore her teeth, pure rage causing her limbs to shake violently. Loss enshrouded by fury, it was like she was about to burst and let go of everything she felt. But... she was not like that. Her chest moving upwards and downwards, she took in many deep breaths as she slowly, very slowly composed herself. "And now... now I'm here, while 'brother' Owen and his little son Logan rest in our bedroom." She finished, her eyes swaying towards the burning, all scorching fire.
No... no, she mustn't let herself go like that. She was better than that, and Daomon did not deserve her ire. No, Owen was a free digimon who had to decide his own fate, and Logan was not to blame either, being just a child accidentally created by him and Hikaru. And she and Owen, they had talked... and reconciled. She forcibly made herself look away, focusing on the future and what she had to do. Assuring that, if anyone, at least Logan the Offmon grew up to be a good digimon. If this was her only legacy left, then she would make damn sure that it counted at least this one time.
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Post by Bonetrousled? on Oct 30, 2017 23:43:00 GMT
If Cion had been pushing towards the same goals for millennia, it was no wonder that she was so weary. Nevertheless, in some worlds change moved more slowly than in other worlds. "The Digital World is as a great cycle," they mused, almost seeming to meditate in their chair rather than let themselves rest into it. "We last far, far longer than those of the other world. And the very building blocks of our world have a memory about them. At times, ideals long ingrained can persist for far longer than we'd expect. Just as our lives are long, so, too, is the time it takes for us to change."
They paused, thinking somewhat on their attempts at reassuring. "Yet, I cannot blame you for such frustration. I am sure that, rather than explanation and justification, it is reassurance you seek. Proof that your thousand-year quest has not all been for naught," they said. Surely enough, as Cion mentioned all of the evils that she had seen, Daomon's brow wrinkled in frustration. "You are right. Were the world in a perfect state of harmony, all of our lives would be far better. A pity that even one of us being out of alignment in such a sense can throw off the balance for everyone else.
And yet, I have heard many reasons for them to be as such," they added. "Some do so out of fear, striking back at the world before the world can strike at them. Some do it out of hopelessness, feeling that with nothing left to lose they may as well take what they want. Some do it because it is all they know, born and raised in the darkness and knowing nothing of a better path. Some simply wish to take what they want, succumbing to the easy way because they have strength of power yet lack strength of character. And some, the worst of all, simply enjoy knowing they've caused others pain. Yet even a reason as foul as this is still a reason, and one I have heard far too many times before."
Currently, though, Cion's concerns were less philosophical and more personal. She had spent over a thousand years dedicating her life towards loving another, and when the latest wheel of their lives turned he no longer shared the same belief. Worse still, he had moved along, finding love and even family with another. When one of two partners seemed to remember their partnership more than the other, how could it be possible for either to go along unscathed?
The mysterious Digimon could practically feel the elephant in the room, from the way Cion's eyes darted to the fire and her teeth bore menacingly. "Do not let yourself be a part of the cycle that you have fought so long to stem," they warned. "Logan is but a bright new arrival to the world, not one who has meant to cause you any harm. You have a noble heart, tempered across several lifetimes. Use that heart to serve as a good example to him. Even if it hurts like a million needles, to succumb to your darkest thoughts would be far, far more painful, especially when your resentment is aimed at the purest definition of an innocent."
Briefly, Daomon paused, turning the conversation from one of the Digimon in her life to another. "Does he not remember?" Daomon asked. "Or has his opinion simply changed?"
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Post by Cion on Oct 31, 2017 15:36:01 GMT
Due to the warmth inside the living room she and Daomon currently resided in, her nose slowly started to run, leaving a sticky feeling above her lips. The previous cold mixed in with the later warmness was often a cause for this, and it was as always obnoxious. Not having anything else at her disposal, she wiped the watery slime with her knuckles before drying them in her almost dry fur. Without a doubt, she would be sick after this day, unless she would take a lot of vitamins once she returned... home. This world still stung her very core.
Listening to Daomon's points of view about the nature of the digital world, Cion actually found herself agreeing more often than not, and his compassion was as always appreciated. Thinking about it, it was true that everything in the digital world persisted for much longer than on Earth. Existences there are measured in years and decades, hence development was equivalently fast, relatively speaking at least. Digital beings however, sentient or not, had lifespans of centuries if not milennia, and most noteworthy digimons had the ability to reincarnate.
As much as this idea left her with hope, it also filled her with exasperation. It was pure anguish to witness how long everything took, and how little her contributions' immediate impacts actually were. Certainly they had a chance to ripple throughout time to lead to something much bigger, but this was not satisfactory. Her eyes focused on his, she moaned a little after flexing her numb fingers. "I suppose that's right... including what I want." She admitted, starting to feel selfish, which was probably justified. Then again, she wanted to see the happiness and good in others as to find peace in that. Was that so wrong a way to attain reassurance? Was it naive if that failed, like it currently did?
"A pity indeed..." Cion commented quietly, both at the fragility of peace and how easy hearts could turn wicked. Realizing all these factors, she felt foolish to think she could bring large change to the entirety of the world, especially in her current weak line of digi-volution. But all mentioned points also made the vulpine digimon think about herself. At least one vile aspect tainted her heart as well, which was the joy of punishing those that deserved it. Of course not mercilessly, but hardly could she deny the satisfaction she experienced from that. So... was she really in a position to experience Weltschmerz?
Doubt over doubt started pinning her to the ground forged out of countless destinies, making her feel like she was losing herself, both past and what could be. A maelstrom of emotions, the dominant ones being frustration, anguish and rage, surged inside of her, as if everything she ever knew and believed in was collapsing on her. An existence and love having turned ephemeral, a purpose and goal seemingly in vain, uncertainty in every step she took. How did she even manage to step outside this night?
As her wrath-induced thoughts slowly faded from her mind while watching the fire burn away the wood beneath, Cion's ears peaked when Daomon accused her of something that she found unjustified. This made her turn to him, her facial expression that of serious determination. "I know! I don't resent Logan, I... he is a wonderful boy and I'd never lay a finger on him." She spoke vociferously, almost immediately flinching as her expression changed to that of regret. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to bawl at you..." She apologized sincerely, her words filled with remorse.
Listening to her host, the silver digimon nodded approvingly again, even if her mood was shrouded in trepidation. "That was the plan... being the best aunt possible for Logan. I'll... I'll make sure he'll learn from the mistakes I made, so he can be a great successor, be it in peace or as a fighter, whatever his choice is. I want him to be happy, proud and self-confident when he matures... things I could never achieve myself without..." She paused, both of them knowing what name she would have said regardless. It was... strange, how she suddenly put everything in someone else, as if she had already given up on herself.
Letting out a very audible, long sigh, Cion leaned back into her chair as her eyes swayed down to her crossed legs. "Owen does remember memories like me, but not the emotions behind them. Likely hence he found Hikaru..... more appealing..." She explained, her last words being that of resentment. If nothing else, she held a grudge against the Gaomon for showing so much irreverence to their past. Then again... he showed remorse and the wish to still be there for her, as family, in this... and future lives. Else... they would not carry each other's scarves.
"Oooh...?" She let out under her breath, having not even noticed how she had began keeping hold of her green scarf, the one that once belonged to Owen.
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