hadriel | 001

[ The scene set is that of a living room. It does not appear to have been lived in much, no trinkets on shelves or the table, and no pillows set up on the couch. The video is static for a long moment before the Outsider appears on screen in a wash of black smoke and shining pieces of onyx. He's set himself up in the center of the couch, on the back of it, his feet planted on the cushion. His hands are folded together as he leans forward. There's a twinkle of amusement in his beetle-black eyes. ]

Have you ever heard the tale of Empress Emily Drexal Lela Kaldwin, first of her name? [ No response? No problem. He's going to tell it to you anyway. ] A child born to take the throne, she grew up privileged. She learned about the world from a distance and when people killed her mother and stole her throne, her father took up sword to take it back for her. [ He disappears in a wisp, reappearing further from the camera. The distance has no effect on the loudness of his voice. He gestures widely with his arms. ] Her father returned the throne to her and though she tried to be the Empress her mother once was, she lost sight of what was important: the voices of her people.

Another came for her throne while she was blinded, a woman who had been born in the hole and clawed her way out to the top, and that woman took it with blood. If only Emily had paid attention. If only she spent a little less time on the rooftops of her city or in the arms of her lover. If, if, if. [ Again, he disappears, this time appearing to lean against the left arm of the couch. He shakes his head. ] She took up sword, same as her father. She took on my mark, same as her father.

But do you think she managed to get her crown back? Could she do it as bloodlessly as her father? [ A quiet chuckle in the back of his throat. ] Or would she be as ruthless a killer as her betrayers?

It's a tale that can end in so many different ways.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[That's always the first thing people latch on to when they find out what he is, what he does. Cole can't ever understand it, but no matter how many times he tries to explain, there's always someone very concerned about the voices--or maybe that he might go mad listening to them.]

Sometimes, when the silence sings and the loudness lingers. But if I can't hear I can't help.

[ If only that were a concern of the Outsider's, though he won't deny that it isn't fascinating to a degree. Spirits are not things that exist where he's from and humans rarely go out of their way to help one another, and he rarely goes out of his way to help them. ]

And you need to help. [ Amused. He leans his cheek against his closed fist, nothing but wisps of darkness and onyx to prop up his arm. ] You must be so very busy, then.

Yes. I'm not me if I don't. [It's difficult to find the words that describe it. A need, a drive, a fixation, whatever it is, it's the same sort of obsession other spirits have, he knows that much at least. Only their specific focus changes. Maybe it's Justice or Command or Wisdom or something else.]

Sometimes. Some people don't want help.

That's often because humanity is stubborn and have spent so many of their years knowing that the only thing that can help them is themselves.

Yes. But they still need it even when they think they don't. So it's soft and small and they think it's them but it's me instead. And then they forget. And I forget too.

And why is it you forget, too? Do you not wish to hold on to the good you do? [ Or is this just another aspect of being a spirit? Either way, both fascinating and sad. ]

That doesn't matter. What matters is I helped. I forget so I don't keep it. It's theirs not mine. It makes me clean so I can help more.

[ This spirit, Cole, is truly intriguing. ]

How noble. I believe my own universe would likely benefit from beings like yourself. [ No, really, it could use all the help it can get but there's no way the Outsider is going to bother much with all of that. That's not why he exists, after all. ]

Maybe. A lot of places need help. Their whispers are worries.

And what of those that deserve that suffering? Do you recognize those whispers and help them, too?

No one does. Not forever.

There are many humans that would disagree with you, I believe. Once their judgement has been cast, it's difficult to change it.

They don't have to agree.

Ah, so you would force your help upon them?

No. But I still help.

[ He hums curiously. ] I see.

People need help. I can't not help because someone doesn't like it.

It's your reason for being, of course not. [ Zero judgement. He just finds it fascinating. ]

Hale and whole and held together. Hope for help.

I would say you have a difficult job ahead of you but I believe you know that already.

Yes. It always is.

Will it ever end for you? [ Because, for the Outsider, he could end up devoured by the Void within a day and a new deity will be found. ]

No. I don't know what happens if I die. Where the spirits go.

Do you know where humans in your world go when they die? In mine, they simply cease to exist.

They go back to the Maker.

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