Mr. & Mrs. Bixby Go For An

[Tearen Wover]

Tearen turned around slowly to regard the angelic Prime. A great weariness had overtaken Tyrael’s face, and Tearen found it curious. He could tell the gilded warrior was reconsidering his decision, but the ex-enigma was not sure why. He doubted his petulant threat to side with Diablo had been significant enough; it doubtlessly had to be a ploy that had been used many times. Except, perhaps, for the fact that Tearen’s suggestion to himself had not been a threat, per se. It had been honest. If this bastion of morality and harmony would not allow him to pass, he simply had to find a way around. More than that, however, were Tearen’s intentions, and this suspicion was validated when Tyrael spoke again.

“You truly wish to help the people of the Omniverse?” the angel intoned. His voice was grave beyond telling. Tearen felt a rush of mixed emotions, which released as a long sigh.

“That was always my intention. Before coming here, however, I was too far removed from mortal life to know how to do that…” Tearen said, leaning heavily against the vault-door walls. He shrugged helplessly.

“...so you worked as you had been taught. Anarchy and freedom of mind, and pain of the ignorant be damned.” Tyrael said, thumbing a small talisman clasped to his cloak.

“Pretty much. I forgot the pain that brought to my previous state of being. More importantly, I know better now that striving to be more than human, to make the world as ephemeral as a dream, to try to rid yourself of yourself... leads only to isolation. Omnipotence without objective. Omniscience without comprehension. The children of the Omniverse deserve a better fate.” Tearen said, his voice beginning to hitch. The Shadow could no longer bring his eyes to meet those of Tyrael. The angel’s compassionate heart wrenched in his chest, before he calmed himself with memories of this Prime’s black deeds.

“Like Rebecca?” Tyrael asked, his voice steady. Tearen didn’t know how Tyrael had divined his relationship with the Little Sister, but it didn’t matter at that moment. Tearen uttered a heaving breath.

“A...her among many. Divine beings such as you and I, to us, all mortals are but children. Earnest and hopeful. All of the Omniverse’s inhabitants are this to me, and I have been slack in my parental duties.” Tearen said. The line between metaphor and reality was starting to become a tad too blurred, and both Primes recognized it. A few clenched moments passed before Tyrael brought the conversation to cusp.

“What is your plan?”

Tearen shook his head.

“Not...really sure right now. Heh, how human. But, yes, my first order of business is to find Rebecca and see to it that she is taken care of. After that…” Tearen trailed off, trying to formulate a long term plan. It had been so easy when he was in a state of god-mind, but perhaps it was better this way. Still, there was one thing that bothered him.

“Tyrael, when was the last time you heard music, other than a war chant? Really good music?” Tearen asked, finally bringing his eyes back to the angel’s. The question seemed to honestly catch Tyrael off guard.

“Uhm...I…” the legendary Prime stuttered, turning the inquiry over in his mind. “I can’t think of the last time.” he finally conceded. Tearen nodded empathetically.

“It’s a problem. Maybe I’ll start there.” the Shadow concluded. Tyrael eventually cracked a wary smile.

“I can enable that.” Tyrael said, snapping a clasp on the talisman he had been fiddling with. A golden band of light tumbled into his palm, and he held it up for Tearen to see. A reverse banishment circle? If it was such an object, the angel must have kept its means of creation a closely guarded secret. Omnilium could do many things, but it also had a mind of its own. Many people had tried and failed to create the object that Tyrael now offered him.

“Well, if you ever come back this way, bring some music with you.” Tyrael said simply. Tearen loosed a small laugh.

“If I don’t get banished again I’m probably not making enough of a difference. Consider it a promise.” Tearen said, pressing the banishment circle into his chest. The sandstone hallway and Tyrael’s curious expression melted away in a shower of sparkling ochre…

…


















Black.

Utter blackness.

Tearen blinked a few times experimentally. The blackness remained. This was a far cry from the porcelain brilliance of the Nexus that he had been expecting. The Shadow felt around him, palming at the smooth darkness that enveloped him. As his palms clinked against the dark matter, white lines traced themselves over the vectors of this ebon environment. Tearen sat up and smacked his head sharply into an overhang. White lines traced a taunting path around the impact point of his forehead.

The ex-enigma gingerly excised himself from the geometric cubby that he had been reformed in and stood up. Waves of white lines bounced all around him, like ripples in a pond. Evidently he was not the only one trying to navigate this maze. Tearen realized this must be the eponymous ‘Void’ he had studied in his first Prime body. An in-between world, the space between spaces.

Tearen may have been mystified if it wasn’t for the fact that much of his time spent as a minor deity had been in a place such as this. Despite his rekindled humanity, the ex-enigma already felt an affinity for this black and white labyrinth. In short, it felt good to be home.

Tenuous reports indicated that any Verse could be reached from the Void. If so, there must have been apertures that led into the Omniverse proper. Tearen decided that it would be prudent to find such a portal to the Frozen Fields, being that it was Rebecca’s last known location. Still, any door would do; even the Ashen Steppes would be closer to her than the Underverse. So, with cautious footsteps, Tearen walked through the eerily silent boulevards and sweeping tesseracts that built the seemingly nonsensical architecture of this place.

Honestly, Tearen found it rather aesthetically pleasing. He didn’t bother getting upset when he would turn a corner to find himself upside down from where he had just been. Such was the nature of hyperspace, and it was better to accept it than fight against it.

The Shadow decided that, in spite of it all, he liked it here.

Need a Roll for a Gate Please; Preferring Frozen Fields