interstellar5555 | ☆TRACK XIV: THE END COMPLETE

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☆TRACK XIV: THE END COMPLETE

Who: ALL WHO DARE ENTER.
What: The Grand Finale.
When: July 25th, 2055
Where: THE MOON.
Warnings: All kinds of things, I'm sure.

“These are the days. The end complete. 
The world still turning to the sound of the suffering. 
You are the jury, we are the saints.

Our minds divide, the past repeats. 
A war still brewing in the hearts of those we once bled. 
I am the knowing, the living dead.”

☆THE END COMPLETE

The aftermath of the battle with Lesedi is a mixture of fortune. On one hand, a severe enough blow has been dealt to Lesedi that she has been forced to disappear almost entirely, and Gold has survived the conflict – on the other, Silver has disappeared too, and so have the rest of the Pride musicians.

While Virgo carries on to the end of the tour, Pride is almost entirely absent from the last two weeks of the schedule. Some of what remains of its bands will appear on stage, but something seems off about them – including the musicians that the rescuers know personally. Even when on stage, it’s like they’re not really there. As if something is puppeting them directly from behind the scenes.

Anansi appears only briefly during the final performances, and from what Gold will tell everyone, she has been Silver all along. The two of them had been working undercover for years to gain the power and influence they had, enough to begin fostering a rebellion in their seconds lives. So much of what made it possible to bring the rescuers together had been enabled by those connections, which was why it had been so crucial that no one know the source of their power or their knowledge.

Now Gold seems to be blaming herself for the fact that Silver hasn’t returned, suspecting that Blanche has done something to her as a result of her stepping in during the fight with Lesedi. Neither exec has left hiding since then, and its nauseating knowing that they could basically be anywhere.

There only seems to be one thing left to do, and that is beat the two of them to the proverbial finish line. Gold used her close connection with Lesedi to gather crucial information about where the finale of it all would be taking place, and the basic essence of what would be done – which was part of what had inspired her to attack Lesedi so desperately.

The end of the ritual is scheduled to take place on the moon.

☆THE MOON

It’s a good thing Shep has a spaceship.

The scattered remains of the world tour are spent in preparation. Though some may try to get close to the musicians that remain, it’s become nearly impossible – any attempt to get too close to met with those individuals being abruptly teleported away, no matter how disruptive it may be at the time. It’s not like it matters to the audience.

The enchantment of Tera’s populace is still holding, though there is something off and inconsistent about it. Most of the time, festival goers will refuse to acknowledge that anything besides a radical concert is going on, but then there are those in the crowd that will suddenly seem to peer through the fog. Something about the spell is broken, and it’s likely the series of disruptions to its execution that has done it.

The best option seems to be following the two of them to the finale, and ruining the ritual once and for all in its critical moments. The lost musicians have to be there, and it could be the rescuers only chance to retrieve them.

On the day of the rituals climax, Shep’s ship will carry everyone willing to fight towards Tera’s moon. The rescuers will catch glimpses of the Crescendolls ghosts more and more frequently as the moment arrives, though they seem to be avoiding Gold and Shep in the meantime.

Through a combination of magic and brute force, the rescuers will be able to make their way into the the label’s moon base – a structure paradoxically shared by both Pride and Virgo. It seems that this entire thing has been organized to end in a structured battle from the very start, like a final duel between r ivals that has been planned for centuries.

Everything is finally coming to a head. But how will this play out when one of the two is a mere shadow of their former selves?

☆PRIDE

For the musicians of Pride, the fight with Lesedi is the last thing you remember clearly. If you weren’t there at the time, then the moment when things changed is even more disorientating. You remember the feeling of Lesedi’s spacial pull against your body, and then everything became a long, confusing dream.

There is darkness and fire and stars, and then a feeling like you’re feeling split from something essential to your being. After that, nothing goes back to normal. You think you remember performing a few times, but it didn’t feel like you, even if the magic was still there. Life passes by weightlessly.

It’s a familiar feeling – like a hole has been left inside you. Despite all the progress you’ve made towards regaining who you are, it’s seems like there’s one final hurtle to overcome.

Despite everything, you’re still here.

☆VIRGO

For anyone left in Virgo’s ranks, things are much clearer but no less tense. The rest of the tour has been rushed, and the events have been minimal. The execs, however, have been in a very good mood. With Pride’s near total disappearance, it seems like Virgo’s victory in whatever battle this has been is guaranteed.

But yet, there is still a sense of ill ease. Whether you knew what she stood for or not, one of the most visible veterans, Anansi, has gone missing, and the rest of them seem nervous. The end is coming fast, and nobody seems to know what that means for them.

And then it finally becomes clear why, when the entirety of Virgo is rounded up and taken to the moon – not as performers, but as sacrifices.

“Dig deeper, remember 
All you've been and all you've left behind. 
Wave goodbye, my dear. 
Dig deeper, remember
All you've been and all you've left behind. 
Welcome home, my dear.”

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He never had any hope, when he lived here.

He remembers it so clearly, right now. He grew up alone, with nothing but a father he hated and caretakers who couldn’t care less. The only one who had ever really looked after him was himself, and Tiger Universe had always been so self assured that it was fine, because he was going to become the greatest star out there. He had to help himself, because nobody would come and save him if he didn’t.

He’d been so angry when the others tried to prove him wrong. He’d been so confused when they finally did. That hope and love had felt like something foreign and out of reach even when he could see it just outside of his grasp, and that’s how it feels right now, too.

Any feeling of hope is so far away now, as if physically stolen from him, and he can’t imagine anyone else ever making it through this bubble of isolation. When reality shatters, those feelings become perilously literal.

He curls himself into a ball within a blackened glass bubble, seemingly a million miles away from everything else. His clothes are torn, his makeup is ruined and, and one of his eyes is dark with bruising.

He can’t imagine which is worse – how lonely he feels right now, or how scared he’d be to let anyone get close. How could anyone ever be worth believing in?

Light doesn't pierce the darkness so much as it gives a good prodding. The twin lights waver and flicker in the gloom, growing slowly closer with a mechanical cough.

The van is old, marked with dents and scratched paint and a cracked windshield. It creeps up, one hard bump in the road from bursting into smoke and oil. It's got just enough gas, though. As long as it can drive, it will.

The man driving looks just as beaten and aged, older than Stiger's ever seen him. His wrinkles go even deeper as he peers through the dark glass, face twisting in relief and grief.

"You're here."

No he's not, he thinks compulsively, shivering inside his partially self imposed prison. He stares at Greg like he doesn't recognize or understand him, like he can't see through the dirty glass.

He can't hope that this will go anywhere. If he tries, it hurts like old phantom pain. Even with how familiar that van feels like it should be, like a haunting presence at the edges of his memory.

He grasps at his chest, feeling the tug of Lesedi's metaphysical chains.

"You can't help," he says quietly. "I'm not worth it. I was wrong."

Greg can feel that emptiness, the sucking hole she ripped in Steven's soul, so dark no light can brighten it. It echoes Tiger's words at Greg, loud and despairing and finite.

He can feel the emptiness, and if he's not careful, it will pull him in as well.

"I don't believe you."

Slowly, carefully, Greg gets out of his can. His joints ache with the movement, but he stands. He reaches for the glass, to wipe some of the grime away.

"I promised you, a long time ago. I'm not leaving until you're somewhere safe."

Up close, there are fingerprint shaped bruises on his arms and his neck. His first reaction to Greg coming close is the thought that it won't work, that someone is just going to take him away again. Just like every time before. It's like their grip on him never really went away, like he can still feel it now.

He touches the glass near where Greg wiped away the dirt, but that sinking feeling starts to manifest literally, his fear and hopelessness matching to something he remembers all too clearly. The bubble shifts, slowly beginning to sink into the shapeless blackness that makes up the ground.

It's like he's going to drown, he thinks. Like there's no air.

"It's never safe," he pleads. "I tried to get away. I can't."

The sight of the thick darkness sets Greg's heart beating faster. The sinking feeling takes a hold of him for just a moment, blackness sucking at his sandals like mud.

Like... mud.

I'm that case... he's cleaned way worse than this. A hose appears in one hand, a sponge in another.

"All locked up in there, of course it's tough to see a way out."

The warm and soapy water pushes back against the grime.

"I couldn't do it myself. That's why we need each other."

He falls silent for a moment, even as the sphere enclosing him bobs slowly in the muck. A recent memory is struggling to surface, because the very existence of it is contradictory to this sense of hopelessness.

But they've always been together, haven't they? Images come to mind, of walking together in a dark Vistan alleyway, and in a mansion bathtub. Its like a song he only remembers part of a line from, and wants desperately to know the rest.

It feels a little easier, when the grime starts to scrub away. But he's still sinking and it doesn't seem possible that he'll ever make it in time. He puts his hands against the glass, like he's futilely trying to push through it.

"I can't remember," he says, frustrated and defeated. "They're just going to take me away again."

"Keep your eyes on me, Shtooball." Greg places his hand on the other side of the bubble, one thin and suffocating piece of glass away from touching. He's so close. He's so close.

"You can be scared. You can fear her more than you trust me." How much he's been hurt, how badly he's been damaged, Greg would expect nothing else, damaged soul or no. He'd been just the same, until they pulled him out by force.

"But I'm right here, and she's not, and I'm not going to let you sink."

The darkness may be overwhelmingly present, but golden, soapy bubbles cut through as best they can. They're fragile little spheres of light, but they cut through the black one line at a time.

As the bubble sinks, the same muck seems to leak into the bottom of the glass container, dirtying his feet and knees, and threatening to drown him if he sinks too far. He flinches when he feels it, cold and sticky, but he tries to do what Greg has asked him. He stares through the increasingly clean spot of glass, trying to quell his own shaking.

He can't escape the anticipation of it. It's reflexive now - as he reaches out for safety, he is just waiting for the moment that someone grabs him and pulls him down again. He can remember the feeling of hands on him so vividly, pulling and shoving, that shadowy forms of them rise from the darkness and grab at his legs and arms.

He tries to keep looking at Greg as the black fingers wrap around his shoulders and start to pull, but he's clearly starting to lose focus. He's trembling with how how scared he is, and his focus flickers up and down over Greg's features like he's just barely managing not to look back.

She's not here, he tries to tell himself. They're not here. It's just the two of them. It's just them. It's just them...

The bubble bobs downward, reacting to his fear, but stabilizes again as the child keeps his eyes on his father's face. Somehow the idea that if they stay together things will be okay is staying with him as non negotiable truth, even as he chokes out fearful sounds, tears budding down his cheeks.

"Dad," he says softly, remembering. "You're my dad."

Once the hands rise up to grasp at Tiger, a mortified shudder runs through Greg. A wheezy whine develops in his breathing as his hair goes paler, thinner.

He could lose him, she could drown him right there while he's watching. It would be everything he's feared since the beginning, before Pride and Virgo, before Tera. It's a fear that goes beyond the blurry edges of memory, ingrained from the first moment he held him.

"That's right," he gasps.

Greg's hand reaches through the cleaned spot of glass as though it were air, taking hold of his son. The remaining muddied darkness pops, shadows pooling out around their feet.

In the lights cast from the van the hands look thin, depth reduced to paper cutouts clutching onto Steven. Greg lifts Steven up and the hands tear like so much tissue.

He's not the man who sits watching on the sidelines anymore. He's not powerless, and he doesn't have to sit and pray his son comes home. He'll make sure of it himself.

"I'm your dad, and it's my job to protect you from monsters, too."

For that first moment, it's like he's literally incapable of believing what's happening. It goes against everything the hollow space in his heart has been telling him, about how nothing can save him, and about how there's no point in trying. Greg shouldn't be able to win against this. It doesn't make sense.

But yet, it does. Greg lifts him away from his prison, and the hands that tried to drag him down. It's beyond comprehension, but yet it isn't, and that contradiction seems to wrench something free with a snap that is almost painful. A bright green shard of crystal forms between them, hovering for a few moments before dissipating into his chest. He doesn't have to ask what it was. He knows what it was, the moment it settles back into where it belongs.

Steven throws himself against his dad, the darkness fading and the light of the van brightening. He cries and sob almost violently, but its with a cathartic release instead of the heavy weight of pain. Memories click together, from this image of his father and then outward, connecting through themes of love and hope. So much of him has been gone, and he didn't even know he was missing it. It's so overwhelming he can barely form words, can barely function.

"You're really here," he cries. "I remember."

Edited 2016-09-25 08:46 (UTC)

Steven's soul settles into him, and Greg's relief and joy is so intense that he practically feels the effect himself. He'll never be able to forget the sensation: the terrifying, beautiful return to self as what's always been and always should be clicks back into place, what's been known all along but inexplicably forgotten.

Tears begin rolling over his cheeks as well as Greg clings to his son. "Yeah. And you're here, too." Some color and youth returns to his body while shadows peel away from around them. It's been too dark for too long. Greg carries Steven away from the puddles of black still sticking fast, back to the sanctum of the battered old van.

"We're here, we're here, we're here." He repeats the words between tearful breaths. It's true, for the first time in a lifetime. All of both of them are finally together, even more than when fused. So long as that's true, they're safe.

The change is subtle as it happens - so much that one can't quite observe it occur so much as notice its effects. When Steven first held himself to Greg's body he was still touched by the way he looked on Tera, complete with tattered clothes and smeared makeup. As they near the van, though, he will feel lighter and smaller, in a clean shirt and jeans, with slightly longer and ringletted hair and the remains of his bruises being the only hold overs from his stay.

There's no rules of fashion or brand to worry about, and so his dad's old band shirts are a perfect fit. The colours he wore here were always darker than he really liked, and never with enough pink.

He gradually manages to steady himself as Greg speaks softly to him, encouraging these shockingly new and comfortingly old feelings of hope. There's going to be a lot to think about, later on, but right now he only has space for relief and gratitude. Any effect his emotions have over the reality surrounding them sync with Greg's as they brighten the atmosphere. Tears continue to come, but they feel natural and appropriate.

"What happened?" he finally asks, not fully understanding how they came to be where they are now. Everything that happened after they'd fused during the fight is such a mess, and with that part of him gone its like it barely happened at all, with how unreal it all felt.

The van's dents and dings are far less pronounced in this light. The motor purrs contentedly as Greg sits them inside, worn seats threadbare but soft.

"It's the end. We're stopping those guys from hurting anyone, ever again." It feels important to establish that, first. Greg brushes dark locks away from Steven's face.

"Lesedi's hurt. Blanche..." Hmm. "He's unprepared. We're stopping them tonight."

Those are the relevant details, Greg thinks. Matters of stolen souls and rituals seem secondary. "Also we're on the moon?"

"Hello, Steven."

With Meril -- with a Valkyrie, a goddess -- came Asgard itself. The Asgard she remembered, a vast plain of green grasses and flowers and gently blowing wind. But the woman herself looked just as she always did, as if she'd stepped out of her apartment in the penthouse and onto the streets on any given day.

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☆TRACK XIV: THE END COMPLETE

STEVEN UNIVERSE (NEEDS SOME THERAPY)

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