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[Coop RO - Anima/Methyas] The Parts We Play


Abandoned Wing
Temple of Sorrow
Sepros, Orian System

There were many places one could go to be alone in the Orian system, most of which encompassed the Temples of Orian. At first glance, one would think that not to be the case. The Temple of Sorrow, to make a point, was the heart of the Clan Summit. Both Consul and Proconsul made their base of operations there. This, however, did not mean it had become a hub of activity. With the passing of the years, the member base had moved outward from Sepros and settled onto the other worlds more directly controlled by their respective Houses. In fact, with Locke’s new approach to governing the system, such an approach had become desirable.

It was because of all that, that the Temple of Sorrow held so many halls of empty darkness, away from prying eyes… away from the light.

The Rollmaster of Naga Sadow let out a low sigh, his eyes adjusting to the darkness with an ease born of good genetics. He leaned into the familiar weight resting on his shoulder, pressed into his neck, and ran his taloned fingers across the strings upon the neck of his viol. How long had it been since he last played? Far too long, not since before the fulcrum of his existence came to pass.

Then, more than ever before, the emptiness that was his cybernetic left arm filled him with a sense of longing for what once was. He couldn’t feel with that hand, not truly. The neural interface did what it could to simulate the sensation he once had, but the subtleties he once possessed, the naturalness of it, was lost to him. Anima held the bow lightly in his right hand, sliding it across the strings and letting a haunting note hang heavy in the air. He allowed his breathing to even out, stilling his body and allowing it to flow in tune with the instrument he wielded. More notes followed, his arm moving back and forth as he played and drifted in the weightlessness that only raw emotion could bring.

As he played, the Umbaran held his eyes tightly closed, as if afraid something might escape. As the notes reverberate around the empty chamber it was as if a lock clicked open deep within his core and he felt light and heavy all at once. Emotions and memories fought to overtake him but he allowed them to flow freely into the notes, escaping without incident.

“It’s been awhile since I last heard you play,” a voice intoned from behind him.

Anima let his arm fall, drawing out a long, wailing note from the viol in his hands. He turned his head slowly, locking only his grey eye upon his former master, his other eye lost behind his bangs. A cocksure half-grin spread across his lips for a brief moment before the more somber visage resumed. “Haven’t had much reason to, my friend.”

“Ah, so Atra is still with us, I see?” Methyas let the question hang, his voice gentle and understanding. Of course, it was easy for him to be such with Anima. Their years together had been quite busy, and a bond forged in fire was not so readily broken.

“As much as I wish it were otherwise,” Anima spoke softly, “neither of us have the ability to make me truly disappear, Methyas, but I certainly try.”

The blind Miraluka nodded in response. “You do, yes… Anima is quite the character you’ve created.”

“He plays the part I need,” Anima remarked.

“Fair enough, but why is it needed? Why the change? Last we spoke — before your departure — you seemed well enough.”

The Rollmaster turned fully to face his master, ignoring the man’s lack of eyes and making a rather incredulous stare in his direction. Methyas raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth as if to speak before cocking his head and snapping his jaw shut. Then he chuckled and nodded quickly. “Point taken.”

Anima strode forward, resting his palm on the other man’s shoulder. “Would you take a trip with me now, like old times?”

Methyas’ brow furled in confusion, looking in the Rollmaster’s general direction before putting voice to his thoughts. “To what end?”

“So you, at least, can understand… why Atra has to stay dead.”