12167/15 Fears: The Ninth Circle - Cocytus

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15 Fears: The Ninth Circle - Cocytus
Date of Scene: 24 July 2022
Location: Hell, Ninth Circle
Synopsis: Annabelle returns Jon to reality via the Ninth Circle of Hell. It would seem the journey back to the land of the living is going to be quite long indeed.
Cast of Characters: Jonathan Sims, Chas Chandler




Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The crack in reality snaps shut above Jon and Annabelle, leaving only the faint afterimage of the teal glow Jon had sent along the webbing they'd used to close it up, neat sutures used to close the wound so it can finish healing on its own. They're rising up toward the dimming glow, the still-weak spot in reality that had become a crack and then a chasm, but that doesn't really have any meaning in this place. Up, down, left, right--those are concepts, they are /something/, and this place is very decidedly Nothing.

    There is a faint glow from the both of them, the protection of the Old Ones they are bound to, and so Jon glows faintly bright green in the darkness, enough to illuminate the faint frown upon his brow. "These things, these Fears, they never came through that crack, did they? It was always Asag that was trying to use that way in. However they arrived... that was because of Rien."

    He sighs. "And here I thought I finally had some piece of the bloody puzzle. Shows what I know."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle's own glow is a dim violet glow. She regards Jon with an arched brow. "It's baffling how quickly you can switch from insightful to completely dim, you know?" she states. "While it's true that this was never the origin point for their entrance, and it was simply Asag trying to get a concentration of his power... but you have all the pieces alright. You just aren't seeing them in the right order."

    She turns and starts to walk. That there is no road to walk on doesn't seem to bother her. She stops after a few paces and turns. "Well, Jonny? Are you coming or do you want to remain here in the Nothingness of the In Betweens for all eternity? We can talk while I go to find a proper entry way for us."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It's Jon now, you know," the Archivist replies with a smirk. With a shrug, he follows her. How are they walking on anything? Hard to say. He's trying not to think about it too hard. He warps himself in the Ceaseless Watcher's ability to /know/ without /understanding/. He can /know/ he's walking without understanding /how/.

    That lack of understanding does not apply to his conversation with Annabelle. "Okay, then." He starts to tick off points on his fingers. "Here's what I know: one, the beings attacking the Justice League Dark are Old Ones, beings connected to Nullspace. Eldritch horrors of... maybe not the /first/ degree, but nasty things, regardless. They came into our universe using Rien as a gateway. Something I did--something to do with the fact that we bound Saint Michael in two places, unlocked that gateway to let them through." A pause. "I /presume/ it's Rien's existence in our world in the /first/ place that let them use her as a gateway, yes? And not only that, of course. She was created without a Name, given the title 'Queen of Nothing.' She can rather naturally channel negative energy. So... perhaps it's better to say that they followed Rien to the world she went to?"

    He chews on his lip. "Alright. So... Asag felt... mmm... /different/ than any of the Fears? So I'm going to /presume/ that he's not /precisely/ attached to them. And Chas assured Agnes that the Fears have no /direct/ connection to her. So... the Fears come to this reality through Rien, and find versions of people they've attached to in other worlds. Me, and you. Others. The Watcher flat-out ignores Jonah Magnus because he was an utterly /useless/ twat who wouldn't actually do any of the work himself." A smirk, at that, but it fades quickly. "The Spider comes for me, repeatedly. With the book, when I was eight. The psych experiment in uni. That time, you take my place and step in to serve her."

    He glances over at her. "I get that. I get why me. I get why Rien. But why the others?" He holds up a hand. "I have a theory, actually, that it's something we have /yet to do/, something we're /supposed/ to do."

    A pause. "Asag called us the Wardens. Does that mean something?" He knows damn well she's not likely to answer every question, but he has to try.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle arches a brow at Jon. "I refuse to call you just 'Jon' I'm sorry" her tone says she is anything but. "But you're on the right track. Asag was not one of them. He was an associate to another that calls itself The Blackened Earth. They both want the same end in a way so even were he not one of the fifteen allowing him freedom would be just as terrible were it The Blackened Earth itself."

    She walks with purposeful steps as if she knows where she's going in the infinite darkness. "You're close... so close to an answer... it would be terrible for me to send you on your way without some level of understanding..." She purses her lips and put a finger to them. "Oh very well. Here. Yes, they are after you all because of something you -will- do. Timeless they may be, but that doesn't keep them from holding grudges." She smiles. "And yes, they used your precious little Queen of Nothing as a burrow into this universe, but that wasn't what drew them here."

    She shakes her finger at Jon in a negative motion. "That was something the lot of you accomplished together. Light a bright enough beacon through reality and unreality and you're going to attract a great deal of attnetion. And most of the attention from that place of Nothingness is not the kind you want."

    She very pointedly ignores the statement about what Warden's might mean. Jon is right on that note. She's not going to answer every question he poses to her. It seems that is a bridge too far for her.

    Instead, as if to illustrate her point she takes hold of the absolute Nothing of this land and with a wiggle of her fingers, frays it open to reveal a web filled hole into a land of ice and snow. A bitterly cold wind gusts across the portal and bites into them both, driving to the very heart of who they are. "This is where we depart this In Between place for another realm. It's closer to reality than the where we are but it is no less dangerous... for you."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "So, first on the list when I get home: figure out what it is we're /going/ to do that'll piss them off so much." Jon smirks and rolls his eyes. "Such an easy task, hmm?"

    He watches Annabelle just casually pull open a hole in reality, mind working on her other words. "Light a bright enough beacon--Saint Michael?" He gasps. "That's what... you are telling me that they..." A pause, as if to reset his thoughts, and then he says slowly, "When we bound Michael two different places with negative energy, and then overlapped the two, we dragged him through Nullspace. Which... effectively ended the universe for a few seconds, but that didn't really matter to them, is what you're saying. What you're /saying/ is that they used Michael--a bright beacon of Order--to lead them to Rien, and used her as a gateway to come into reality. In /December/."

    He stares at Annabelle for a moment, green eyes wide in the light spilling through the portal. "And then... they went /back in time/ to set everything up for their arrival. The Spider tried to corrupt me even though she knew it wouldn't work--after Asag made sure I would become Archvist. Or... well... I suppose changing the timeline would suit their purposes just fine, hmm? So, no, they attempt to corrupt and twist and subvert, but in the /meantime/ they do things to set up their coming to this realm in the first place. Like whispering in my ear to give me the idea that led them here."

    He shakes his head. "I'm going to need one of those bloody corkboards when I get back, and Martin will just have to live with the idea. This is terribly complicated."

    He turns to regard the portal and frowns. "Better than staying here, I suppose," he mutters. Then he steps through.

    And is immediately driven to his knees by a wave of exhaustion, as petty concerns like gravity and holding himself together against a hostile dimension suddenly assert themselves on him. "Oh good lord," he gasps. "I... used a /lot/ of power closing that crack in reality, I think. I'm... /famished/."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle steps over into the frozen wastes next to Jon. She doesn't seem as exhausted as he. "It gets easier the more you do it" she says idly. "As for a corkboard... I like the idea. All that string tracing lines and patterns creating a nice web for you to fall into." The smile she gives them is far too innocent.

    "As for food, I can provide you some here... it's not much but" she waves her hands and produces two items, one for each hand. In her left is a steaming mug of cider in a mug with a web-motif over it. In the right is a single frosted donut on a web-patterned napkin. "These should help you for a time. You will need to find more as you progress through here... but it will stave off the worst of it."

    Another gust blows across and disperses some of the icy haze. The landscape is more than frozen wasteland, it's a lake. A frozen lake with a massive hole in the middle of it. Something enormous was suspended there long ago but has sense broken free of its imprisonment. A multitude of people lay dead and blackened on the ice, but it's clear they still feel the pain of their suffering.

    Annabelle tsks. "Lucifer left such a mess when he decided to go on his vacation. That creature has no concept of responsibility. Never has really. I suppose he wouldn't be him if he did, though, would he?" she says, offering out the two items to Jon.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    For a moment Jon just... peers around them. At the lake, and the people, and the giant hole in the center...

    "Hell," he says, slowly. "This is... Dante? The Ninth Circle? /Really/?" He rolls his eyes. "Well, I suppose if anyone is my Brutus or Judas..." He smirks at her, but there's an old hurt in the words. The pain of what he still sees as her betrayal.

    He reaches out to take the food, frowning. "Donut I understand, but... cider? Why cider and a donut? Am I missing something?" After a moment, he shrugs and starts to eat the donut. Even just the first bite is enough to help him push to his feet, looking out across the frozen plain.

    "I'm too weak to make a portal out. I'm going to have to go... the long way." A deep sigh. "Bloody /hell/."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "Quite literally" Annabelle says. "And I cannot go further than this circle. It would draw too much attention and they are not fond of the Mother any more than you are" she says. "I daresay their hatred for her and her ilk is even stronger." She eyes the remains of the donut and the cider. "Play more video games with your daughter. Ask her about Undertale. I think you'd appreciate it."

    She shrugs and then frowns at Jon. "What I did, I did to protect you, you know that right? Better someone like me goes to the proverbial Cross or takes 40 daggers than you. Especailly given what you are and who you are. If you're expecting an apology you're not going to get it."

    There's pain in her voice as well, all the same. "I thought you would understand by now. I did what I did because it was what I *could* do. Becoming the Mother's puppet in your place. Changing your memories so that you wouldn't know the pain of losing a friend to something you can't possible fight, because I know you. You would try to fight her. And you would fail. Taking Agnes and giving her to a buffoon who would protect her at all costs because his own blind ambition was too great to allow him to lose her?"

    She shakes her head. All of it was for -you-. So you could do what you needed to get her back and give her a proper family and to bring you here so you can become the father and magi that you need to be."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "But you took away my /choices/, Annie." Jon shakes his head. "Trust me, I /understand/ the compulsion to protect the people I love at any cost. To wrap them up in a cocoon of ignorance, to try to keep them safe." He dips the donut in the cider and takes another bite, speaking around it despite how unutterably /rude/ that is. "It doesn't work, in the end. People resent being coddled, or they get into situations they can't handle because they don't have the information they need. Which is precisely what happened."

    He frowns. "I was... /lost/ when I became Archivist. I didn't remember Gran had told me about the Archive; I didn't even remember I was homo magi. Sasha sent people to try to kill me, Martin faked his own death, and I had no idea what to... /do/. I was terribly vulnerable. I... I got hurt, Annie. Badly."

    He looks over at her. "I nearly /died/, more than once, because I didn't know who I really was. Because I hesitated. Why did you have to take away my memories of the Archive, of magic? How many people would still be alive, if you'd just let me remember myself? How many people died in the siege of Manhattan because I was so lost and confused?"

    A beat. "What if I could have saved /Lyra/?" The pain dripping from his voice is almost palpable, here in the chill of this place.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle frowns and looks aside for a moment. Shame painting her features. "I could not control all that the Mother took from you. It was her price. I removed what I wanted and she removed what she wanted," she says with a sigh. "I managed to get the idea of me out of your head to protect you from coming near me... she took your memory of who and what you are."

    She shakes her head. "But it worked out in the end, didn't it?" she says, her expression shifting 180 degrees into one of jovial mirth. "You have a family. A daughter, a husband, a lover. You're not alone and you know more about what you are now than -anyone- before you dating back millenia."

    She claps her hands together. "You even did something that hasn't been done in ages... you shifted the Archive. Changing the focus to one of truth instead of simply recording what is and was. So you can almost say I did you a favor."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Did me a--did you /hear/ me, Annabelle?! I should have /two/ daughters! I don't care if it was the Spider that did it--she did it because you /started/ it!" Jon glares at her for a long moment.

    Then he sighs, and lets his shoulders drop. "...But I did ask for the help. I was terrified, and desperate. Even if I could have stood up to Jonah, even if I could have gone to Gran for help... Martin was dead." He shakes his head. "Martin was dead, and /nothing/ else mattered."

    He laughs, suddenly, ruefully. "Except, you know... I'd just kept Alya alive long enough to give birth. If I could've defeated Jonah, I probably could have revived Martin, too. I have so much more power than I ever think I do--but Jonah'd gone and implanted that control phrase in my mind, and I was /panicked/." He shakes his head. "I'm a damn fool, is what I am."

    He takes in a long breath, then lets it out again. "Fine. Fine. You're not my Brutus--you're my Obi-Wan Kenobi. Keeping key information from me to try to protect me. And before you say 'in the first movie they didn't intend Vader to be Anakin Skywalker,' Obi-Wan is around in Empire. He was a Force Ghost. He could have said something. Or /Yoda/ could have, he was watching Luke struggle with the Dark Side. But no, neither of them told him and Luke rushed off before he was ready to face Vader."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle listens to Jon with a small smile on her face. "Precisely. There's not growth for the character without such struggles. Without the great fall. Without the possibility for story. If they warned him, there would be no story for Luke. And without my actions, there would be no story for you."

    She smiles wider. "I told you, we should have both been drama majors in university. We both understand the flare for the dramatic and what it does for the tale being woven." She looks up at the dark hole above them. "And we both play our parts with gusto and flair befitting our positions."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon, who's been eating the donut with relish as Annabelle speaks, finishes it off and swallows the last bite with a frown, then immediately snaps, "That's ridiculous and you /know/ it, Annie. This isn't a bloody /story/. It's real life, and real people's lives are on the line."

    He shakes his head. "Anyway, you're not listening. Regardless of how it worked out--you /took away my choices/. And I get that you're working for the Mother of Puppets now, I just--I didn't think--"

    He frowns down at the web-patterned napkin, then shoves it at her. "I just didn't think you'd treat /me/ that way, is all," he mumbles, almost petulantly.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle takes the napkin and sighs. "We all play our parts, Jonny" she says, "Even I. Even if you have no idea who is watching, there is always an audience. Always and the tragic loss only fuels the fires of drama." She shakes her head. "Depsite what you may think, I do love you. All of it was truly for your own good..."

    "I will miss you when this is all over," she says, looking at him fondly, "but I think we might not see each other again. You have Hell to traverse and I have... to pay my own price for helping you. I knew that much already when I sent you the letter. Everything comes with it's own set of rules and even the beings whose very existence disregards those rules like to play by them."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns at her for a moment, then says softly, "Why'd you even... why did you lure me to the chip shop? You weren't trying to get me killed. Was it to force me to get my memories back? Or were you trying to use us to get rid of that... /thing/ there?"

    He stops walking, suddenly, and stares at her. "You were. You were /terrified/ of that place. Of her. So you got me to take care of it for you. Oh, Annie." He reaches out, to clasp her on he arm. It's first time he's touched her in well over a decade.

    "Annie... all you had to do was /ask/. Don't you /know/ that? Even if I hadn't remembered... I would've come running."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    She jerks her arm away from their grasp. "No, Jonny, I can't!" she hisses at them, her face contorting into an almost animalistic feral snarl. "That is what I cannot do. I cannot just -ask- for assistance. To do so is to obviate my pact. We coerce, we manipulate, we lure... we do not -ask-."

    She sighs and straightens her skirt. "But yes, that is what I have been doing for years. Maneuvering you into place so you would not be killed or maimed by the dangers set against you."

    She shakes her head. "For all the good it did. You're absolutely blind and stubborn when you're being moved into a corner you don't agree with. Oftentimes I think you walked into the danger on purpose."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks as she jerks away from him. "Bloody hell," he snaps. "Don't you see what it's /done/ to you? Convinced you this is... /okay/ somehow? Maybe you were right, earlier, that what you serve is part of the world. Entropy /is/ inevitable. You know I don't ascribe to the kind of black-and-white dichotomies that angels and demons do. I don't believe what you serve is inherently /evil/. Horrific and twisted, certainly, but evil isn't what you /are/. Evil is what you /do/. I find it possible the Old Ones cannot be evil any more than a forest fire or a black hole can be evil."

    He sighs, and takes a step closer to her. "But, Annie... /you/ can be evil. You making these choices, you doing these things... there's a debt that's going to come due someday. You cannot tell me that my life is world the price of your soul." He looks at her earnestly, desperately. "You were helping me, doing things the Spider didn't want. And you said it yourself--you don't have to be trying to /end/ reality. Maybe--maybe we could work together."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle frowns and looks aside again. Jon's words sting her, and even without telepathic abilities he'd be able to tell. "I... I know, Jonny. I know I've done awful things to you and I will pay my price for doing them. And I would do nothing different either way. Your safety is more important than my own. You have a purpose. You have a life. A family. I... don't."

    She looks back at him, tear streaks trailing down her cheeks. "But... maybe you're right. Maybe you and I can work together. I... I would like that. But today... I don't think that's in the cards. Maybe when you get back... when this is over, if I'm still me... we'll have a chance to sit and talk and hav e a drink together. Like old times, hm?" Her smile is wistful and a bit sad.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Annie," Jon says softly, "You /do/ have a family. You have /me/." And whether she will or not, he steps toward her and wraps his arms around her, pulling her in close and wrapping his wings around her.

    "I hate that you think you don't matter," he whispers. "You matter to /me/. There's been a hole in my heart ever since you left." He's crying too, silently, as he always does, eyes closed and tears streaking down his cheeks. "You're my oldest friend. You're the only one that knows everything I've been through. I /need/ you. So don't... don't go dying on me before I can figure out how to save you. Okay?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle laughs fondly and doesn't pull away this time. She returns the hug if a bit less emphatically. "I think it's sweet that you want to try... I don't believe you can, but I know better than most to force you to stop trying." She lingers in the hug for a moment longer before disengaging.

    "I don't plan on dying anytime soon if I can help it and the Mother doesn't throw away useful puppets and I've been one of her most useful ones ever. I still have time left in me" she says. "But we need to get moving there is much still to do before you can even leave this ring. Cocytus isn't the largest, but it is still vast..., the Morning Star in all his glory was held here after all."

    She reaches down and takes hold of his hand. "Come... let us talk of our lives while we walk" her dark eyes meet his eerily green ones. "I am certain there is much you wish to know."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon hesitates for a moment, to wipe at his face and eyes. The tears have frozen swiftly in the cold, and that's uncomfortable at best. But then he twines his fingers with Annabelle's, squeezing her hand gently, and chuckles.

    "Yes, I'd very much like to know what you've been up to," he says to his friend, glancing over at her before he starts off on the walk across the ice again. He takes a long swig of the cider held in his other hand and adds, "I suppose you know plenty of details of /my/ life, hmm? Been keeping tabs on me?" He raises a brow.

    It'll be a long walk, but the conversation should keep their minds off the bitter cold of the frozen expanse, the whipping winds, the pressure on the soul. At least until they get to the barrier between this circle and the next.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle gives Jonathan a general overview of her life since they parted ways in that burning house nearly fourteen years ago. She has been keeping tabs on him, but not so much to direct but to ensure that he didn't go and get himself killed. Which--she wryly adds--she did a terrible job at doing. Outside of that, she has been doing very little for the Web, only keeping her connection to the eldritch entity by the barest of margins.

    She leads them to the face of a sheer ice wall. High above them is an opening. "This is where we part ways, Jonny" she says, pointing up. "I had intended this to be the last time we met, but I have the distinct feeling that you will do everything in your power to prove me wrong" she says with a soft smile. "And given how stubborn you are when you put your mind to task, I am inclined to believe you would succeed regardless of anything I tried."

    The smile widens. "And to be perfect frank, I think I'd like you to." She looks up at the small opening in the roof of the Ninth Circle and sighs. "I wish there was more I could do to help you. It is a perilous journey and you will be without the full strength you possess." She eyes them fondly again. "But I think you will manage this. I believe in you, Jonny."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs as he looks up at the opening far, far above. "I suspect you wouldn't be able to help me, really. These things, they're usually meant to be done alone. Test of the spirit, test of the soul." A pause. "I'm becoming a god, or at least a demigod. I suspect this is part of the journey. Proving myself, proving my worth."

    They turn their gaze back to their oldest friend, and reach out to give her another hug. "You're right," they add. "I'm not just going to let you disappear again. Don't be a stranger, alright?" They pull back and smile, though worry creases their brow. "If you don't /want/ to be attached to the Mother of Puppets... then we'll find a way to fix that. Okay? Nothing lasts forever. As you well know."

    Then he steps back and turns to look at the ice wall. He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself, then says, "Be seeing you." He winks one of those glowing green eyes at her, then crouches and launches himself into the air for the long (long, /long/) flight upward.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Annabelle looks up as Jon departs and then starts for the gaping hole in the frozen lake. "Oh no, my friend. The Stranger is already quite among you..." she says softly, to herself as she stops at the edge of the chasm. Looking down she tsks. "Perhaps you are right, Jonny. Nothing is truly forever..."

    She turns and says in a different tone of voice, one laced with a vile putrid feel. "I am ready" she says before a hole opens up and a pair of long spindly legs reach out of it. They wrap around the woman and then with a violent jerk, drag her into the dark abyss.