Cha0s Gaming - Lyra Eos - Whispering Mere

EasyThreads added AsaniDraws to the group. 11/25/2025 04:32

Dante and Neris Make their way Down to the Shoreline of one of their Smaller more Secluded Lakes.

*standing there, looking out over the stillness of the lake* So now what?

[Mirror-Priest Neris] *steps up beside him at the edge of the stone, hands folding into the sleeves of his robe as he looks out over the still water as well, not at Dante.* “Now?” *he echoes mildly.* “Now we do the most difficult thing first.” *He nods toward the lake, whose surface is almost glass, only the faintest ripples touching the edges where reeds break the mirror.* “Nothing.” *He lets that hang for a beat before adding:* “You have spent a long time being told what to do, what to be, where to put your body. If I start by filling this morning with more orders, all you will hear is another master.” *He shifts his weight, bare feet silent on the cool stone.* “So here is what we do instead. For a little while, we stand here. You breathe. You look at the water. You do not perform for me, you do not make a joke for my benefit, you do not try to guess what answer I want.” *Only now does he turn his head slightly, enough to catch Dante in his peripheral vision.* “When that feels unbearable and you are tempted to fill the silence with anything at all, I will ask you three questions. Not about your past. Not about what was done to you. About you—now.” *He lifts a hand, counting off on his fingers as he names them, voice even:* “Who are you, when no one is using you and no one is watching? What do you fear most, standing here, with no task and no script? And what do you seek that is truly yours—not Laika’s, not your kin’s, not your captors’—yours?” *His hand lowers again, disappearing back into his sleeves.* “That is ‘what’ comes next,” *he finishes quietly.* “For the moment, all I want from you is this: stay here. With your own skin. With this lake. Don’t run from either until you’ve at least tried to answer.”

Just stand here? That's all you want me to do is stand here? How is that helping? Aren't you going to ask me questions? Tell me what i'm doing wrong? How you're going to help me? Instead you just want me to stand here and answer riddles?

[Mirror-Priest Neris] *doesn’t look away from the water when Dante snaps back; the only sign he’s listening is the slight tilt of his head and the slow, even breath he takes before answering.* “Good,” *he says calmly.* “You lasted longer than some before getting angry at the silence.” *Only then does he turn his face a little toward Dante.* “You say you don’t want anyone telling you what to do ever again. Yesterday you spat that at the Assembly with a lot of teeth.” *His tone stays mild, not mocking.* “If I start barking questions and instructions at you the moment we reach the lake, you’ll hear nothing but another version of the same thing you ran from.” *He gestures lightly toward the water.* “This isn’t a riddle. It’s a test of something very simple: can you stand still with yourself when no one is pushing you?” *He lets that sit for a heartbeat, then adds:* “You’ve reached the point where the quiet feels worse than being ordered around. That’s when we start.” *He shifts, turning a bit more to face Dante now.* “All right. You want questions? Here is the first—plainly, no games:” “Right now, standing here, what feels worse to you: that I’m not telling you what to do… or that I’m looking at you and expecting an honest answer?” *His silver eyes hold Dante’s, steady but not hostile.* “Tell me that much, and we’ll go from there.”

I DON'T KNOW!!!!!! *he promply plops his rear onto the grass, sitting there staring out onto the lake* I don't know what's worse... that I don't know what to do, or that I feel like you're supposed to know for me..... *he pickes up a stone and casts it into the lake, skipping it, not even stopping to think if he should* There.... was never really enough time for wants... back where we're from... And even if there were, it was expected it would be something that would just... benefit them anyway... I guess I never stopped to think about it... *looking down at the water, looking at his own reflection distroted by the ripples he himself made* think about who I am, and... what I want... If I even get to want....

[Mirror-Priest Neris] *stands while Dante drops into the grass, eyes following the stone as it skips, then vanish into the lake. Only after the ripples begin to widen does he lower himself to sit as well, not too close, not too far—just another figure at the water’s edge.* “‘I don’t know’,” *he repeats quietly,* “is a better answer than the polished lies most people try first.” *He rests his forearms on his knees, looking out over the distorted reflection with him.* “You feel like I’m supposed to know what you want for you,” *he goes on,* “because that’s how your life has worked until now. Someone else decided what counted as a ‘want,’ and it was always something that fed **them** first.” *A faint, humorless huff of breath.* “You default to handing me that power without even meaning to. It’s a habit, not a fault. But it’s one we’re here to break.” *He picks up his own small stone, turning it between his fingers rather than throwing it.* “Here is the rule at this lake,” *he says,* “and you may hate it, but it stands: you get to want by the simple fact that you are breathing. Whether you get what you want is a different question. But the wanting is yours. Not licensed. Not earned. Yours.” *He lets that sit a moment, then nudges him with something smaller, more concrete:* “So we will not start with ‘who are you’ or ‘what is your purpose in life.’ Too big.” *His shoulders lift in a slight shrug.* “Instead, we start with this: for **today only**, if you were allowed one want that does not have to benefit anyone else—not Laika, not your kin, not your captors, not even me—what would it be?” *He glances at Dante’s profile, but doesn’t pin him with a stare.* “It can be small and stupid. ‘I want to lie on my back and look at clouds.’ ‘I want a hot meal I don’t have to share.’ ‘I want five minutes without anyone talking at me.’ Anything. One thing that is yours.” *He rolls the stone once more between his fingers.* “If nothing comes, say that. But if even the shadow

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of an answer shows up, I want you to catch it before it runs away. That’s where we begin: not with what was done to you, but with whether there is even a spark of wanting left under all of that.”

I...... guess i'd... like.. a book... Sometimes I like to read and pretend that i'm one of the characters in the book. It's always been sort of a comfort to be someone else for a bit... Someone better than "Dante..."

[Mirror-Priest Neris] *turns the little stone once more between his fingers, then lets it fall back into the grass, attention shifting fully to Dante for the first time since they sat.* “A book,” *he repeats, with the faintest hint of warmth.* “Good. That is a real answer, not something you thought would impress a priest.” *He looks back out over the lake.* “Stories are one of the kinder ways to leave yourself,” *he says.* “In Lyra Eos we don’t forbid that. Sometimes it’s the only way a person can safely imagine being different.” *A beat.* “You say you like to pretend you’re one of the characters—someone better than ‘Dante.’ I won’t argue with you about what ‘better’ means yet. But I will tell you this: if you can imagine a man you respect enough to want to be him… that image did not come from nowhere. It’s built out of pieces you already understand.” *He pushes himself smoothly to his feet, brushing a few blades of grass from his robe, then offers Dante a hand up—not pulling, just there to be taken.* “You will have a book,” *he adds, tone matter-of-fact.* “Before the sun sets, I’ll see one placed in your quarters. Consider that proof that your wants are allowed to exist here, even the small ones.” *When Dante is up (or not, if he refuses), Neris asks the next question, quieter:* “When you step into those other men’s skins in the stories… what is one thing they have that you wish you had?” *He glances down at him, silver eyes steady.* “Not power. Not glory. Something smaller. Maybe the way they speak. Or how they face fear. Or how they treat the ones they care about. One trait. Name it. That will tell me more about you than any confession of your sins.”

*those words hit him, he's right... he never thought of it that way* You... think i'm somewhere..... in the books I read? But what does that mean? That because I like how nice some people are, that I want to be nice too? Or... because I want someone to be someone that deserves the looks Liaka gives me? And since the ones in the books look at the hero that way, that I need to be like them......... *he clenches his fist and uses it to wipe a tear from his eye* well it's not true.... I'm not like them... *his breath becoming a sigh as he says* And i'm not sure I can be....

[Mirror-Priest Neris] *watches the fist swipe the tear away, but pretends not to notice, turning his gaze back to the water instead.* “I think,” *he says slowly,* “that the parts of those characters you’re drawn to are like lanterns. They light up the things your own heart recognizes as good.” *He flicks a pebble into the lake—not skipping it, just letting it plunk and sink.* “You notice how kind some of them are? That tells me you know kindness is worth something. You notice how they carry the looks people give them? That tells me you care about being someone who doesn’t waste that trust.” *He glances sideways at Dante, voice still calm:* “The monsters you knew didn’t sit around wishing they were better. They were very satisfied being exactly what they were.” *He lets that contrast rest there a moment.* “When you say ‘I’m not like them’—the heroes—you’re right. You’re not. You’re a man on a lakeshore who doesn’t know how to want, who thinks he doesn’t deserve the way a girl looks at him, who still came here and asked for help anyway.” *A small, wry huff of air.* “That’s not a hero from a book. That’s the start of one.” *He draws his knees up slightly, wrapping his arms around them loosely.* “Whether you can be like them?” *He shakes his head.* “You’re asking the wrong-sized question. Those men in stories are built out of a thousand little choices. Courage here, honesty there, kindness when no one is watching. No one becomes that by deciding all at once.” *Now he turns his eyes fully on Dante, steady but not sharp.* “So we don’t start with ‘being like them.’ We start with **one** thing they do that you can imagine trying once. Not perfectly. Just… attempting.” “Pick one: * Do you want to be a man who tells the truth even when it’s ugly? * A man who stays when someone else is breaking apart? * A man who apologizes when he knows he’s hurt someone? Or something else entirely.” *He tilts his head slightly.* “Name one trait from those stories that you

05:50

would *want* for yourself if you believed you were allowed to own it. Just one. We will not argue yet about whether you ‘deserve’ it. We’ll just put a name to it.”

I always tell the truth... I guess that's one thing I got from... my previous life... As for someone who stays... I gues... I guess i'm already doing that now... But... I... I don't think i've ever told someone sorry for what I had to do.... and sometimes, even for what I wanted to do... or at least thought I wanted... So I guess it's that.... The sorry thing.... Maybe... I don't know...

[Mirror-Priest Neris] *nods once, slowly, as Dante talks, eyes back on the water.* “You already tell the truth,” *he says quietly.* “That is more than most. And you are still here, which means you already know how to stay when it would be easier to run.” *He picks at a blade of grass between his fingers, rolling it until it snaps.* “So the trait that feels far from you is the third one: the *sorry thing*.” *There’s a flicker of dry humor in his voice at the phrasing, then it fades.* “Not the forced apologies you were taught. The real kind.” *He tips his head a little, voice even, almost instructional:* “Here, an apology has three parts: 1. You see what you did, clearly. No excuses, no fog. 2. You say, ‘This was my part. I did this.’ 3. You offer the possibility of doing differently, even if you don’t yet know how.” *He turns his gaze back to Dante, steady but not sharp.* “You say you’ve never told someone you’re sorry. Not for what you were forced into, not even for the things you reached for yourself. That tells me two things: you carry the weight of it… and you’ve never been allowed to put any of it down.” *He exhales softly through his nose.* “We are not going to start by sending you to anyone with a confession. You are not ready for that, and neither are they.” *He reaches down, scoops up another small stone, and this time offers it to Dante, palm open.* “Instead, we start here. With something small and strange.” “Pick one thing you are actually sorry for. Not the worst thing. Just… something you did where, when you think about it, your stomach still twists a little.” *He nods toward the lake.* “When you have it in mind, throw the stone. And out loud—only to the water, not to me—say: > ‘I am sorry for…’ One sentence. No explanations. No ‘but.’ Just the shape of it.” *His tone stays calm, almost casual, like he’s suggesting an exercise, not a ritual.* “The lake will not forgive you. It has no opinion. This is not magic. It is practice. Your mo

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uth needs to learn what it feels like to form a sorry that is yours, not one someone beat out of you.” *He settles back on his hands, giving Dante the space to refuse or try.* “If you can do that once, even clumsily, then we will have found the first edge of the man who might someday deserve the looks Laika gives him—even if you don’t believe that yet.”

I guess... i'm sorry for not listening to people or caring about what they thought... That probably sounds stupid....

[Mirror-Priest Neris] *watches the way Dante hunches a little on the last words, as if he’s already bracing for someone to laugh at him.* “‘I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I didn’t care what people thought.’” *He repeats it simply, as if reading it off a page.* “That doesn’t sound stupid to me. It sounds… very specific.” *He tips his head toward the lake, where the last of the ripples are fading from the stone Dante threw before.* “Not listening, not caring—those are good shields in the wrong kind of place,” *he says quietly.* “If you start listening in a world that only wants to use you, all you hear is hunger and orders. So you stopped. That kept you alive.” *He lets that sit for a moment, then adds:* “But habits that kept you alive there can cut the wrong people here. If you never listen, you miss the ones who are actually trying to see you. If you never care what anyone thinks, you trample the ones who mattered without meaning to.” *He nods once toward the lake.* “So: you picked your stone, you picked your thing, and you gave the water your first honest ‘I’m sorry.’ That’s enough for this morning.” *He pushes himself to his feet again, brushing grass from his robe, and offers Dante a hand up a second time—steady, no pressure.* “Last question for today, and then I keep my promise about the book.” *His tone is calmer now, more practical than probing.* “When you think of that apology—of not listening, not caring—who do you see most in your mind’s eye? Don’t name them for me; just answer for yourself: Is it mostly strangers? The ones who hurt you? Or the ones who tried to help and you shoved away with the rest?” *He doesn’t chase the answer, simply adds:* “Tomorrow, we’ll start there. Not with their names. Just with what kind of man you want to be to the ones who actually reach for you.” *He turns back toward the path up from the shore, giving Dante room to walk beside him or behind as he chooses.* “For now, that’s enough work. You’ve wanted som

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ething just for you, and you’ve said you’re sorry for something that was yours. Two new things in one morning.” *A faint, almost invisible smile touches his mouth.* “Try not to be too impressed with yourself.”

Try not to put me on a pedestal for your next student... *he teases back, then quietly walks beside him, thinking deeply on his question*

[Mirror-Priest Neris] *snorts very softly at the tease, the sound almost lost under their footsteps.* “Relax,” *he answers dryly,* “you’re not nearly polished enough for a pedestal yet.” *They walk a few more paces in companionable silence, stone path rising away from the lake. The air cools as they step back into the shade of the upper terraces, distant voices of the city just beginning to swell with the day.*

06:10

[Mirror-Priest Neris] *speaks again without looking over, tone practical:* “For today, you’ve done enough. You stayed. You wanted something just for yourself. You let one sorry out of your throat without anyone forcing it.” *A faint shrug.* “That’s three more steps than many men ever bother to take.” *They reach the entry to the guest tier. Neris stops, turning just enough to face him.* “By the time you return to your room,” *he continues,* “there will be a book waiting on your table. No lesson hidden inside it. Read it to leave yourself for a while, if you like. Or read it to see what pieces of you are hiding in the margins. Either is allowed.” *His silver gaze settles on Dante one last time, steady but not heavy.* “Tomorrow, after first meal, meet me again at the same path down to the lake. No guards, no escort. If you come, we continue. If you don’t, we will talk about that choice another day.” *The corner of his mouth twitches—the barest hint of a smirk.* “And try not to rehearse your answers all night. I am not a judge from your stories. I’m only the irritating man with too many questions.” *With that, he inclines his head in a simple, respectful gesture—not a dismissal, not a command—and turns away down the corridor, leaving Dante free to go on alone toward his quarters, the promise of ink and paper waiting behind the door.*

*turns and watches him leave, a small smirk on his face as he turns and enters the guest house "You crazy son of a bitch....you got yourself a deal" he thinks to himself*