[ a burst of white bathes everything in a sudden luminous flash for an instant before it's gone, and time stands still within the confines of this space. set's final act hangs suspended like a terrible art installation.
john raises a hand and summons set's shard to settle gently in his upturned palm. as always, he can't help but admire other people's shards; each one is unique and beautiful, after all, especially compared to john's. he takes care to wrap it up and tuck it away safely for the moment, and everything else — the body and the weapons — turns to reddish dust that disperses into nothing. neat and tidy.
he's about to begin his work when something unexpected stirs within his Shard. it feels so strange that he claws open his shirt buttons enough to see the gnarled crystal where it protrudes from his sternum. pale, glowing lines spread like branching roots from his Shard, standing out against his skin. it isn't painful, but it is strange and intense as the roots are bright with power. the energy feels distinctly foreign, clashing with john's.
the glowing lines converge at the base of his skull before they grow up and out of his skin like branches, forming a luminous crown of bone and wood and leaves. he stands quite literally rooted to the spot, eyes unfocused and unseeing as he acts as a conduit for the Tree's will.
set is not spared this process either. those radiating lines eventually grow over and into his Shard, drawing them together and connecting them. john does not see because he has gone elsewhere, ascending along with set to some plane of higher consciousness where only gods may tread. their familiar physical forms have been replaced by trees, although how they perceive each other in this form likely varies.
what cannot be ignored is the feeling of deep sorrow and loss that permeates everything. it's impossible not to get caught in the tide as the Tree mourns, feeling set's sacrifice as acutely as john made himself feel the ten billion. it's a lot to deal with all at once, and john is pushing himself to his limits to maintain it. it can't be helped that his feelings and memories bleed through the connection as he fights to regain his sense of self within this Communion, bound together in this timeless liminal space. ]
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john raises a hand and summons set's shard to settle gently in his upturned palm. as always, he can't help but admire other people's shards; each one is unique and beautiful, after all, especially compared to john's. he takes care to wrap it up and tuck it away safely for the moment, and everything else — the body and the weapons — turns to reddish dust that disperses into nothing. neat and tidy.
he's about to begin his work when something unexpected stirs within his Shard. it feels so strange that he claws open his shirt buttons enough to see the gnarled crystal where it protrudes from his sternum. pale, glowing lines spread like branching roots from his Shard, standing out against his skin. it isn't painful, but it is strange and intense as the roots are bright with power. the energy feels distinctly foreign, clashing with john's.
the glowing lines converge at the base of his skull before they grow up and out of his skin like branches, forming a luminous crown of bone and wood and leaves. he stands quite literally rooted to the spot, eyes unfocused and unseeing as he acts as a conduit for the Tree's will.
set is not spared this process either. those radiating lines eventually grow over and into his Shard, drawing them together and connecting them. john does not see because he has gone elsewhere, ascending along with set to some plane of higher consciousness where only gods may tread. their familiar physical forms have been replaced by trees, although how they perceive each other in this form likely varies.
what cannot be ignored is the feeling of deep sorrow and loss that permeates everything. it's impossible not to get caught in the tide as the Tree mourns, feeling set's sacrifice as acutely as john made himself feel the ten billion. it's a lot to deal with all at once, and john is pushing himself to his limits to maintain it. it can't be helped that his feelings and memories bleed through the connection as he fights to regain his sense of self within this Communion, bound together in this timeless liminal space. ]