[The vision settles into her mind as thick as syrup, feeling like it's flooding out into her veins. Flashes of hot green fire flick at the corners of her mind through the haze of teal neurons that wind together in the forefront of her consciousness. That consciousness sings and screams and whistles and Terezi's head is a mess all over again, just like it was any time she used her Mind powers in the past.
She'd missed them.
But now's not the time for reflection. The clock is ticking.
She holds the cueball up, even though she doesn't need it any closer to be able to see it, and asks her next question.]
Will the plan with the Green Sun save us?
[She wonders just how much losing one eye and one arm must hurt.]
[A hell of a lot, she decides, and she clutches the cueball so hard it hurts, it will create it, it will create it, it will create it, and Aradia had been right all along, hadn't she, they were just creating their own problem while trying to fix it-
No, no. She needs to focus. Another question.
Tick, tock. Even though there is no one around, she waits until she's sure she can speak clearly, without her voice trembling, with dignity, even though she's all alone.]
What is the purpose of his interference with us?
[The cueball does not hesitate to reply, and it imprints its starkly honest answer in her head.]
[Her punishment, Terezi thinks dully, will probably be a lot worse than losing one eye and one arm. She doesn't even need that eye, and one arm is nothing, comparatively: Vriska hadn't even come close to what she's doing now. She hadn't had the foresight, and even if she did, Terezi doubts she'd have risked it.
She tries not to think of how very painful an omniscient man could make his revenge. She tries to feel surprised by the cueball's last answer: she doesn't.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
She finds herself grinning without humor at the cueball. The smile stretches painfully tightly across her face. It's more of a baring of teeth than a real grin. The next question is simple, a continuation of the last:]
Why?
[The cueball seems eager to answer with how fast it puts the answer in her mind now, pushing it past whirling neurons and glowing deep blue in her head.]
Vicious lime green energy spikes into her head now and grips and doesn't let go, and Terezi is acutely aware that he knows. He has to know now. There is no time to even let the awful truth of the last answer numb itself into her because-
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Ticktockticktockticktockticktockticktock-
Her final question is also simple. Her grip on the cueball is white-knuckled; she holds it right up to her face and murmurs her question against its smooth blank surface because it doesn't matter how close she is to it. Scratch is going to exact his revenge and it's going to hurt either way. So she asks her final question.]
But why him?
[This final answer is painful; it shocks into her head a thousand times worse than the energy that had crackled along with its answers before. This grips on and doesn't let go and Terezi very nearly hurls the cueball away from herself, but at this point it doesn't matter.
[It was already late. The sun had set and he was alone in the dining room, tapping away at a typewriter he purchased not too long ago. He never was one to sleep at decent hours. His mind was constantly adrift with thoughts, some important and some trivial, which never gave him much quiet time in his mind. Since he returned to Mayfield not too long ago he had begun writing his thoughts at the end of the day, in hopes of quieting his mind. Being human has taught him many things, despite his overall feelings toward his current condition. He never had to do this before. But, he was not a fool. He knew well that these constant circulating thoughts were not a result of what happened in town, or what happened back in the troll's universe, or anything related to that. It was what happened to his seed. The cueball he was still unable to find.
So here he was, writing his thoughts down as usual. The room was deadly silent and only the sound of the clicking sounds he made could be heard. It was only a shame he could not write in white on this typewriter, but that wasn't a large issue.]
As predicted the apocalyptic world created was implemented as a scare tactic of what could be if we were not
IT WILL NOT DESTROY THE GREEN SUN; IT WILL CREATE IT.
[......What.
His fingers freeze, as he scans over what he just typed. ...Why did he write that? He knows that already and he wasn't even thinking of it, much less having any conscious thought of writing it. In fact, he has no memory of writing it, despite it just happening seconds ago. How very...troubling. He grimaces, rubbing the side of his head gently, and takes the paper out. Looks like he'll have to start over. He puts a new one in and begins again, trying to ignore the absent minded mistake.]
As predicted the apocalyptic world created was HE HAS MANIPULATED ALL OF YOU OVER THE COURSE OF YOUR SESSION AND LONG BEFORE THAT TOO.
[He freezes again. This...was not his writing. Not his words. His expression shifts into something strange and twisted, which he does not ever remember making. Confusion? Was that this feeling? Why? Why was he writing--]
[And then it hits him. Quick and sharp, like a banging that won't cease. For a moment his mind goes blank and it's as if he doesn't even exist, the numb feeling coursing through him. There is a sound (t1ck, t0ck) that begins to ring and pound in his ears. Accompanying it soon is the sound of a large crack (8r8k) of pain rushing through his skull (H34DS) and he can't even breathe how horrid it is. All sound in his throat is caught (honk) and it all becomes so loud (HONK) that he cannot even comprehend what is going on. It was surely not time for the break, he would know if it was as a certain. Something...was invading his mind. Something trying to pry through his memories and his thoughts and observe him.
Then everything stops.
seer.
A map is drawn.
seer seer seer.
A map of the quaint town of Mayfield with identical buildings lined up.
He finally comes back to reality, with the sound of an ornament plate crashing to the ground and breaking into pieces. Somehow, in the span of a minute, he had fallen out of his chair and was now lying on his side against the cold floor. He slowly picked himself up and looked around. The kitchen, once together and neat, was now in total disarray. If someone was looking on, they would think a tornado had suddenly rushed into this one room and demolished almost everything in sight. The table had broken in two, along with the typewriter on it, the shelves holding decorative pieces was now demolished and the items that adorned it were in a similar state. Nothing was salvaged in the destruction that was unleashed upon this one and only room. A result of his anger going unchecked, in a moment of not even being self-aware. It was rare that this ever happened and he could count the number of times on a single hand. Cleaning it up would be a pain, but that thought was not even recognized in his mind.
Seer.
That was the only thing he could even think of. The Seer of Mind. ...Well he can't be too surprised. She was one of his suspects right from the beginning. Though, he must say, she was very clever not to rush in with dumb questions. Naturally the smarter ones would be more useful, if not more of a gamble. But, that is just a matter of speaking. He isn't a gambling man and neither are his oracles, which is why they went directly to him for the answers to her oh so clever questions. Very clever and yet pointless, at least in his opinion.
...Nonetheless, it was time to go and congratulate the Seer. Perhaps even give her a little bit of context as a reward for her cleverness.
[Suddenly he is in her home, standing in front of the door he didn't enter and leaning against the frame. He didn't even bother to knock or to ring a doorbell. Why should he? She didn't knock or ring a doorbell when she traversed through his mind using the oracle in her possession, so why should he extend that same courtesy to her?]
It is a representation of it's own world. A world where nothing is hidden, good or bad, and can be cruel and blunt. Truth itself is just a concept created, as a way of recognizing that for every situation, for every word uttered and for everything that will ever exist, there is one final destination. A destination charted by the paths we take and the paths we do not take.
Truth is a paradox of existence and non-existence all at once. Once we recognize something as the final truth, it becomes almost absolute and permanent. 'Almost' meaning that it is there until we forget about it and move on to the next truth.
[He pauses and takes a couple steps into the room.]
And truth hurts. Always hurts. It has no concept of being light, except to those that wish to bring it down slowly and painfully. That is why I always deliver the truth swiftly, to alleviate the pains, and why my seeds do the same. It is painful, for the better I believe.
[...He smiles. A polite smile and snaps his fingers. In an instant a chair materializes in front of him and he takes a seat, crossing one leg over the other and looking at her. As if he could look right through her, which he naturally always can.]
Terezi is not surprised to sense him there. His presence cuts through the pain in her skull as clear and bright as the sun that took her vision to begin with. She remains sitting on the floor, small and harmless-looking, with the cueball held up beneath her chin; she tilts her head up to gaze sightlessly in his direction. The cueball crackles in her hands; she's not sure if it's in her head or if it's actually sparking. Her fingertips sting and her head throbs; maybe it's a bit of both.
Truth.
His words drop over her syllable by syllable, each one building up to something greater. He sits. Terezi's burned-out eyes look at a point beyond him. Her expression is neutral. She does not See him. But she hears. Oh, she hears. She doesn't know if he's talking aloud or if he's speaking right into her head, and it doesn't matter. She hears.
(once we recognize something as the final truth, it becomes almost absolute and permanent)
She is shaking.
(does the truth hurt?)
Truth. What does that word mean to her?
I am Truth, she would tell herself. I know what is Just. The great scales are hers and Terezi tells herself that she knows exactly how to balance them. That she knows what is Just and what's not and how to strike down the things that aren't. She is the balance. Without balance, painfully maintained balance, the truth would lose its meaning, and purpose would go with it.
Does the truth hurt?
She can only say one thing in reply. It's seemingly unrelated, but Terezi answers his question in full, and with it she answers every other question about truth anyone's ever wanted to know from her.]
Truth is everything.
[She can feel him looking straight through her. Green fire flickers at the corners of her mind and she realizes that she is in the same room as the devil himself and that's how it's been all along. But she's outdone him this time- moved ahead in their game, in their dance- and nothing he can do to her will change that. It's this thought that helps Terezi keep herself together. The truth is hers. It's locked into her mind and it's not leaving. There is no regret there, even though, in some corner of her thrashing mind, she realizes how scared she is. How scared she's been ever since she first came up with this entire plan. She is terrified. Yes, the truth hurts (and it's never been a burden she ever said she loved bearing, no, it's never like that all the time).
She lowers the hand that's clutching the cueball. She carefully places it on the hardwood floor and gives it a small push with her palm. It rolls noisily along the floor and stops at Scratch's foot, bumping against the leg of his chair.
She knows it's a rude thing to do by any means- to return it only after she'd gotten what she wanted- but even now she refuses to display any regret over the matter. He is here to punish her- to mete out his own truth- but she will endure whatever it is holding onto her sense of justice, and she will maintain the balance.
Terezi Pyrope will not go gentle into that good night.]
[Scratch is someone of great patience. Even for those who have done wrong or will do wrong. He waits silently for her answer and in the mean time wonders how he should handle this situation. She is almost certainly expecting him to kill her. But, no. That's silly and pointless. Death has no value here and is just as flippant as life. He has never been fond of it as a form of punishment in the slightest. There are much better ways to punish those that have done wrong. He has been dealing out worse things than death for many years now. Not in anger, or spite, or even for the fun of it. Everything has been calculated.
Except for this of course. And that is what makes him want to punish her, more than her finding out the truth behind her circumstances.
He thinks and as he does, she finally delivers her answer and rolls the cueball toward him. ...That is when he figures it out, just from watching the oracle hit his chair by the periphery of his eye (he hasn't stopped staring straight at her since coming into the room). A nudge. That was what he was all about. Nudging people into a certain direction. No matter how tough someone is, once they are nudged into a direction they will continue in that direction. Unless
A) Stopped by something in the path that they go. B) The momentum wanes and there is nothing to keep them moving.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Yes. He has it now. A suitable form of punishment. All it requires is a nudge. So he will ignore the oracle and continue his attention toward the Seer. He does not hesitate (not that he ever has, or ever will) to speak.]
Truth is everything. A good answer. But, the time for truth has come and gone. You have already seen into the oracle and allowed it to answer you.
[He glances at it, very briefly, and then back at her. His grin doesn't wane.]
It's very indiscriminate. Unlike me, it doesn't care who holds it and will play fortune teller, to any curious girl who holds it. You, Lalonde, Serket, it doesn't matter. So long as the holder can see through the thick shell it will be a welcomed one-sided and always truthful conversational partner. ...But, in the same token, it doesn't hold really interesting conversations. Just a disposal of facts to whoever questions it. Now that the time for question asking is over, how about putting context to the simple statements?
[He claps his hands together.]
Go ahead, Seer. Ask. I have never had anything to hide and I don't intend to now. [He states in a eerily cheerful tone, almost excited to hear her reactions. Frankly, it doesn't matter to him at this point. While he never intended for anyone to know so much, he can't necessarily extract her brain and just pull out what she has been told. He wouldn't even want to.
It's almost sad. How she probably thinks they are playing a game of casually one-upping the other at each step.
He isn't playing anymore. There is no 'game' to play, in his mind. He has already won.]
[Following this cordial, almost cheerful tone, Terezi regards him with heightened caution. It's not that she doesn't believe his proposal- she does. She knows she could ask him whatever she wants and it wouldn't matter now because she's already crossed the line. It's right on the table where they both can see it.
Were she not absolutely certain that she won't be leaving this room any time soon, Terezi would simply stand up and walk away. He's offering her details and she doesn't even know if she wants them. 'I have never had anything to hide,' he says, but lies by omission are still lies, and Terezi tilts her chin up and presses her sharp teeth together and breathes out her nose slow and even. She must maintain balance.
She does not return his grin. She knows what he's trying to do to her, and she's just barely keeping up. Vriska had always envied her for her ability to manipulate others with her cards face-up on the table- a quality Terezi has only ever found in one other individual: Scratch.
And if the art of manipulation could be likened to a card game, then, Terezi thinks, it's one that he's rigged from the start.
So, in the end, all she can do is out-and-out repeat to herself that she knows the truth and that's all that matters. Truth is everything.
She's already in the devil's parlor. Terezi knows she can't sink deeper than she already is. So she asks. She misses a few beats and then she sits up straight with her back against the wall and asks.]
[He makes small 'hmm' sound. Frankly both questions would give lengthy answers and he doesn't feel like sparing that much time. Especially when he isn't sure if someone will come into the house, which he simply won't have. He'll definitely give a more digest version, with only the more important details put in. If she doesn't ask for more then it won't be his problem.]
Your questions are out of order, so I'll answer the second one first.
[He pauses for a moment and rubs his chin. Not for any real reason. Just to let her savor the silence before he begins to speak at length.]
I have to say I don't understand why it's even a question. Of course you were meant to succeed. That is the entire reason I exist: to make sure you fulfill the ultimate purpose. The job of a First Guardian is to make sure that the chosen heroes of a universe are prepared to embark on the journey and are capable of standing against the rigors the game provides. I make the preparations and you all engage in the program. And if things go right, which they always do when I'm involved, then the session should be a success and the purpose fulfilled: the creation of a new universe. It is a mutual relationship based on an agreement with the Mother of Monsters, Echidna. An agreement I never made, but one that was thrust upon me right from the beginning of my existence. Not that I minded. Despite what you may believe, you did succeed in your game. The reward was simply never yours to claim. Such is the nature of the program.
[He lowers his hand briefly and scoops up the oracle on the ground, cradling it carefully in the palm of his right hand. All the while he continues on.]
As for the first question, you need to be more specific. Depending on what you exactly mean the answer could be very different. You could be talking about how you are all effectively killing the last members of your entire species in the Veil, your fellow teammates for that matter, for all I know.
[So they've just been used. They've been a tool. He may talk about their success, but that's not true. Maybe in his own fucked-up cosmic definition of success- maybe by standards of whatever goal the good Doctor is working towards- but to Terezi it leaves a sour, bitter taste on her tongue.
They had fulfilled an ultimate purpose.
But whose?]
...
[It is the second answer to which she elaborates on. She's still got time, hasn't she, while Scratch toys with her, while he peels apart and exposes thin layers of something much deeper and darker and yet she knows she'll never truly come to know the truth as it really exists. That it's beyond her comprehension and understanding. The vast truth of their shared undoing is something she knows only an omniscient man can fully understand.
But the Seer is taking everything she can get out of this conversation.]
You know what I meant.
It said that you are the host to the means of our destruction.
[He enunciates the words in a dry tone and lets out a sigh at the end. How boring. It's obvious what she means now. What he is thinking of is how to approach it. He isn't a fortune telling oracle that spits out answers plain and simple. The conversation is his favorite aspect. Making the plans, perfecting them and only then seeing the outcome of the craft. He can easily just say "My head will break and my master, a time travelling demon, will sprout out of my limp body. Oh and thanks for contributing to my genetic code." but that would certainly just create more confusion.
He is here to reduce confusion, as part of her 'reward'.]
The oracle is correct. Alongside being a First Guardian, I am also employed as an officer of a man. A man whose very existence assures the demise of the universe he enters. He is summoned at the end of the universe, however it may come about, and then proceeds to time travel to ensure that his summoning takes place. He is the means of the destruction that you speak of, more powerful than myself and makes the Sovereign Slayer look like a sniveling runt in comparison. Part of my aforementioned preparations are to set up his arrival and ensure it takes place.
[...] Actually, scratch the last thing I just said. [He says quickly, though casually and without hurry. As someone who doesn't lie, this correction was planned out. A sort of 'joke' to make this conversation more lively.] I don't need to ensure he arrives. It is an inevitability, dictated by the Alpha Timeline, just as it is inevitable that you will all cross his path one way or another.
He was already here.
[...Ah, speaking of that timeline-] Now, before we continue, I want to ask you something. Do you know what the Alpha Timeline is? It's a term repeated many times, and as a Seer of Mind you make use of it and other offshoot timelines frequently, but do you know what it exactly is?
[Terezi folds her hands together and joins her fingers in pairs, one against the other, mirroring them. It's all about inevitability, isn't it? They're just walking down a path already carved for them, playing to predetermined and preassigned roles.
And Scratch knows it. That's why he can sit here so calmly, explaining things to her like it's all from some fake fairy-tale book. Like it doesn't matter to him if she knows it or not in the end because it won't matter.
He gets her thinking about the Alpha timeline, and her blind Seer's eyes flick up in his direction, burning.]
It is the path we can't stray from. It's the same one Dave had to maintain for his session, and it's the one Aradia made so many timeloops around to stabilize ours. It's the one that I also had to contribute to by making the right decisions.
[But if everything else he's said is true- if it is an inevitability, dictated by the Alpha Timeline is true- then...]
It's what would happen anyway, without our influence or not, except because it's all already going to happen we influence it anyway and fulfill the requirements to keep it the way it's meant to be even while we try to change things like a bunch of fucking dunk- dumbasses. The Alpha timeline is consistent. If it's not... that's how a doomed timeline happens.
[He continues to watch her movements, wondering what is going through her mind. Normally he would know right away, but his omniscience has not fully been brought back just yet. Of course there are numerous things that can be floating through her thoughts. Yet as she speaks and explains, he realizes that it's all so very pointless.]
Yes, you are mostly correct. That is the basic concept you have familiarized yourself with and does accurately describe the Alpha Timeline. There is only one part left out, but that is more a fault of your ignorance toward it. The Alpha Timeline is also the timeline which holds both my birth and my death. In fact, you can say that the timeline began right at my birth and continued on past my death. The continuum I have mastery over - my timeline. And with my death comes the summoning of my Master.
[For the first time since he came into the room, he lets out a chuckle. It is, as always, full of his ever so gripping humor. Amazing how she knows so much and yet so little.]
This is why I collaborated with the Seer of Light. And, for the record, I told her about being employed to such a villainous man, so don't think this is a big secret only you know. Destroying the sun would be a way to kill me, but my death was already planned through......well, other means lets just say. Nothing important to you. And, to seal the deal I made, I'll tell you his title. You should become familiar with it sooner rather than later anyway.
That is title is: Lord English.
[He stands from his seat. Not for the sake of the announcement, but because the time allocated to her pointless questions was almost out.]
Satisfied yet? Your endeavors in breaking and entering were pointless and none of this really matters, now that the Critical Moment has come and gone and I am effectively dead. The past is the past and nothing can be changed, less you want to risk a doomed timeline. I already told you this, but I feel it needs to repeating--
[And then, in a flash of green, he is gone. But not for long. Because he will instantly reappear in a similar flash. Only now? He's crouching right down in front of her and talking in a softer, if not more condescending, tone.]
She'd missed them.
But now's not the time for reflection. The clock is ticking.
She holds the cueball up, even though she doesn't need it any closer to be able to see it, and asks her next question.]
Will the plan with the Green Sun save us?
[She wonders just how much losing one eye and one arm must hurt.]
Reply
No, no. She needs to focus. Another question.
Tick, tock. Even though there is no one around, she waits until she's sure she can speak clearly, without her voice trembling, with dignity, even though she's all alone.]
What is the purpose of his interference with us?
[The cueball does not hesitate to reply, and it imprints its starkly honest answer in her head.]
Reply
She tries not to think of how very painful an omniscient man could make his revenge. She tries to feel surprised by the cueball's last answer: she doesn't.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
She finds herself grinning without humor at the cueball. The smile stretches painfully tightly across her face. It's more of a baring of teeth than a real grin. The next question is simple, a continuation of the last:]
Why?
[The cueball seems eager to answer with how fast it puts the answer in her mind now, pushing it past whirling neurons and glowing deep blue in her head.]
[There.
I've got you now.]
Reply
Tick, tock.
Vicious lime green energy spikes into her head now and grips and doesn't let go, and Terezi is acutely aware that he knows. He has to know now. There is no time to even let the awful truth of the last answer numb itself into her because-
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Ticktockticktockticktockticktockticktock-
Her final question is also simple. Her grip on the cueball is white-knuckled; she holds it right up to her face and murmurs her question against its smooth blank surface because it doesn't matter how close she is to it. Scratch is going to exact his revenge and it's going to hurt either way. So she asks her final question.]
But why him?
[This final answer is painful; it shocks into her head a thousand times worse than the energy that had crackled along with its answers before. This grips on and doesn't let go and Terezi very nearly hurls the cueball away from herself, but at this point it doesn't matter.
The means of that destruction.
Tick.
Tock.
The Seer awaits her punishment.]
Reply
So here he was, writing his thoughts down as usual. The room was deadly silent and only the sound of the clicking sounds he made could be heard. It was only a shame he could not write in white on this typewriter, but that wasn't a large issue.]
As predicted the apocalyptic world created was implemented as a scare tactic of what could be if we were not
IT WILL NOT DESTROY THE GREEN SUN; IT WILL CREATE IT.
[......What.
His fingers freeze, as he scans over what he just typed. ...Why did he write that? He knows that already and he wasn't even thinking of it, much less having any conscious thought of writing it. In fact, he has no memory of writing it, despite it just happening seconds ago. How very...troubling. He grimaces, rubbing the side of his head gently, and takes the paper out. Looks like he'll have to start over. He puts a new one in and begins again, trying to ignore the absent minded mistake.]
As predicted the apocalyptic world created was HE HAS MANIPULATED ALL OF YOU OVER THE COURSE OF YOUR SESSION AND LONG BEFORE THAT TOO.
[He freezes again. This...was not his writing. Not his words. His expression shifts into something strange and twisted, which he does not ever remember making. Confusion? Was that this feeling? Why? Why was he writing--]
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Then everything stops.
seer.
A map is drawn.
seer seer seer.
A map of the quaint town of Mayfield with identical buildings lined up.
seer seer seer seer seer seer seer seer seer seer seer.
A street is selected. A street that resonates deeply in his head. Miller Street.
seer seer seer seer seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer
A house on that street is then selected. 305 Miller Street to be precise.
Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer Seer
A girl is in that house. She is alone with no one inside, sitting down. And in her lap.
Seer.
A sphere-shaped oracle, which tells the truth for the one who can see through the lies.]
SEER.
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He finally comes back to reality, with the sound of an ornament plate crashing to the ground and breaking into pieces. Somehow, in the span of a minute, he had fallen out of his chair and was now lying on his side against the cold floor. He slowly picked himself up and looked around. The kitchen, once together and neat, was now in total disarray. If someone was looking on, they would think a tornado had suddenly rushed into this one room and demolished almost everything in sight. The table had broken in two, along with the typewriter on it, the shelves holding decorative pieces was now demolished and the items that adorned it were in a similar state. Nothing was salvaged in the destruction that was unleashed upon this one and only room. A result of his anger going unchecked, in a moment of not even being self-aware. It was rare that this ever happened and he could count the number of times on a single hand. Cleaning it up would be a pain, but that thought was not even recognized in his mind.
Seer.
That was the only thing he could even think of. The Seer of Mind. ...Well he can't be too surprised. She was one of his suspects right from the beginning. Though, he must say, she was very clever not to rush in with dumb questions. Naturally the smarter ones would be more useful, if not more of a gamble. But, that is just a matter of speaking. He isn't a gambling man and neither are his oracles, which is why they went directly to him for the answers to her oh so clever questions. Very clever and yet pointless, at least in his opinion.
...Nonetheless, it was time to go and congratulate the Seer. Perhaps even give her a little bit of context as a reward for her cleverness.
Then issue punishment for it.]
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[Suddenly he is in her home, standing in front of the door he didn't enter and leaning against the frame. He didn't even bother to knock or to ring a doorbell. Why should he? She didn't knock or ring a doorbell when she traversed through his mind using the oracle in her possession, so why should he extend that same courtesy to her?]
It is a representation of it's own world. A world where nothing is hidden, good or bad, and can be cruel and blunt. Truth itself is just a concept created, as a way of recognizing that for every situation, for every word uttered and for everything that will ever exist, there is one final destination. A destination charted by the paths we take and the paths we do not take.
Truth is a paradox of existence and non-existence all at once. Once we recognize something as the final truth, it becomes almost absolute and permanent. 'Almost' meaning that it is there until we forget about it and move on to the next truth.
[He pauses and takes a couple steps into the room.]
And truth hurts. Always hurts. It has no concept of being light, except to those that wish to bring it down slowly and painfully. That is why I always deliver the truth swiftly, to alleviate the pains, and why my seeds do the same. It is painful, for the better I believe.
[...He smiles. A polite smile and snaps his fingers. In an instant a chair materializes in front of him and he takes a seat, crossing one leg over the other and looking at her. As if he could look right through her, which he naturally always can.]
Does the truth hurt?
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Terezi is not surprised to sense him there. His presence cuts through the pain in her skull as clear and bright as the sun that took her vision to begin with. She remains sitting on the floor, small and harmless-looking, with the cueball held up beneath her chin; she tilts her head up to gaze sightlessly in his direction. The cueball crackles in her hands; she's not sure if it's in her head or if it's actually sparking. Her fingertips sting and her head throbs; maybe it's a bit of both.
Truth.
His words drop over her syllable by syllable, each one building up to something greater. He sits. Terezi's burned-out eyes look at a point beyond him. Her expression is neutral. She does not See him. But she hears. Oh, she hears. She doesn't know if he's talking aloud or if he's speaking right into her head, and it doesn't matter. She hears.
(once we recognize something as the final truth, it becomes almost absolute and permanent)
She is shaking.
(does the truth hurt?)
Truth. What does that word mean to her?
I am Truth, she would tell herself. I know what is Just. The great scales are hers and Terezi tells herself that she knows exactly how to balance them. That she knows what is Just and what's not and how to strike down the things that aren't. She is the balance. Without balance, painfully maintained balance, the truth would lose its meaning, and purpose would go with it.
Does the truth hurt?
She can only say one thing in reply. It's seemingly unrelated, but Terezi answers his question in full, and with it she answers every other question about truth anyone's ever wanted to know from her.]
Truth is everything.
[She can feel him looking straight through her. Green fire flickers at the corners of her mind and she realizes that she is in the same room as the devil himself and that's how it's been all along. But she's outdone him this time- moved ahead in their game, in their dance- and nothing he can do to her will change that. It's this thought that helps Terezi keep herself together. The truth is hers. It's locked into her mind and it's not leaving. There is no regret there, even though, in some corner of her thrashing mind, she realizes how scared she is. How scared she's been ever since she first came up with this entire plan. She is terrified. Yes, the truth hurts (and it's never been a burden she ever said she loved bearing, no, it's never like that all the time).
She lowers the hand that's clutching the cueball. She carefully places it on the hardwood floor and gives it a small push with her palm. It rolls noisily along the floor and stops at Scratch's foot, bumping against the leg of his chair.
She knows it's a rude thing to do by any means- to return it only after she'd gotten what she wanted- but even now she refuses to display any regret over the matter. He is here to punish her- to mete out his own truth- but she will endure whatever it is holding onto her sense of justice, and she will maintain the balance.
Terezi Pyrope will not go gentle into that good night.]
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Except for this of course. And that is what makes him want to punish her, more than her finding out the truth behind her circumstances.
He thinks and as he does, she finally delivers her answer and rolls the cueball toward him. ...That is when he figures it out, just from watching the oracle hit his chair by the periphery of his eye (he hasn't stopped staring straight at her since coming into the room). A nudge. That was what he was all about. Nudging people into a certain direction. No matter how tough someone is, once they are nudged into a direction they will continue in that direction. Unless
A) Stopped by something in the path that they go.
B) The momentum wanes and there is nothing to keep them moving.
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Yes. He has it now. A suitable form of punishment. All it requires is a nudge. So he will ignore the oracle and continue his attention toward the Seer. He does not hesitate (not that he ever has, or ever will) to speak.]
Truth is everything. A good answer. But, the time for truth has come and gone. You have already seen into the oracle and allowed it to answer you.
[He glances at it, very briefly, and then back at her. His grin doesn't wane.]
It's very indiscriminate. Unlike me, it doesn't care who holds it and will play fortune teller, to any curious girl who holds it. You, Lalonde, Serket, it doesn't matter. So long as the holder can see through the thick shell it will be a welcomed one-sided and always truthful conversational partner. ...But, in the same token, it doesn't hold really interesting conversations. Just a disposal of facts to whoever questions it. Now that the time for question asking is over, how about putting context to the simple statements?
[He claps his hands together.]
Go ahead, Seer. Ask. I have never had anything to hide and I don't intend to now. [He states in a eerily cheerful tone, almost excited to hear her reactions. Frankly, it doesn't matter to him at this point. While he never intended for anyone to know so much, he can't necessarily extract her brain and just pull out what she has been told. He wouldn't even want to.
It's almost sad. How she probably thinks they are playing a game of casually one-upping the other at each step.
He isn't playing anymore.
There is no 'game' to play, in his mind.
He has already won.]
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Were she not absolutely certain that she won't be leaving this room any time soon, Terezi would simply stand up and walk away. He's offering her details and she doesn't even know if she wants them. 'I have never had anything to hide,' he says, but lies by omission are still lies, and Terezi tilts her chin up and presses her sharp teeth together and breathes out her nose slow and even. She must maintain balance.
She does not return his grin. She knows what he's trying to do to her, and she's just barely keeping up. Vriska had always envied her for her ability to manipulate others with her cards face-up on the table- a quality Terezi has only ever found in one other individual: Scratch.
And if the art of manipulation could be likened to a card game, then, Terezi thinks, it's one that he's rigged from the start.
So, in the end, all she can do is out-and-out repeat to herself that she knows the truth and that's all that matters. Truth is everything.
She's already in the devil's parlor. Terezi knows she can't sink deeper than she already is. So she asks. She misses a few beats and then she sits up straight with her back against the wall and asks.]
What is the means of our destruction?
[And then:]
Were we ever meant to succeed?
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Your questions are out of order, so I'll answer the second one first.
[He pauses for a moment and rubs his chin. Not for any real reason. Just to let her savor the silence before he begins to speak at length.]
I have to say I don't understand why it's even a question. Of course you were meant to succeed. That is the entire reason I exist: to make sure you fulfill the ultimate purpose. The job of a First Guardian is to make sure that the chosen heroes of a universe are prepared to embark on the journey and are capable of standing against the rigors the game provides. I make the preparations and you all engage in the program. And if things go right, which they always do when I'm involved, then the session should be a success and the purpose fulfilled: the creation of a new universe. It is a mutual relationship based on an agreement with the Mother of Monsters, Echidna. An agreement I never made, but one that was thrust upon me right from the beginning of my existence. Not that I minded. Despite what you may believe, you did succeed in your game. The reward was simply never yours to claim. Such is the nature of the program.
[He lowers his hand briefly and scoops up the oracle on the ground, cradling it carefully in the palm of his right hand. All the while he continues on.]
As for the first question, you need to be more specific. Depending on what you exactly mean the answer could be very different. You could be talking about how you are all effectively killing the last members of your entire species in the Veil, your fellow teammates for that matter, for all I know.
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They had fulfilled an ultimate purpose.
But whose?]
...
[It is the second answer to which she elaborates on. She's still got time, hasn't she, while Scratch toys with her, while he peels apart and exposes thin layers of something much deeper and darker and yet she knows she'll never truly come to know the truth as it really exists. That it's beyond her comprehension and understanding. The vast truth of their shared undoing is something she knows only an omniscient man can fully understand.
But the Seer is taking everything she can get out of this conversation.]
You know what I meant.
It said that you are the host to the means of our destruction.
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[He enunciates the words in a dry tone and lets out a sigh at the end. How boring. It's obvious what she means now. What he is thinking of is how to approach it. He isn't a fortune telling oracle that spits out answers plain and simple. The conversation is his favorite aspect. Making the plans, perfecting them and only then seeing the outcome of the craft. He can easily just say "My head will break and my master, a time travelling demon, will sprout out of my limp body. Oh and thanks for contributing to my genetic code." but that would certainly just create more confusion.
He is here to reduce confusion, as part of her 'reward'.]
The oracle is correct. Alongside being a First Guardian, I am also employed as an officer of a man. A man whose very existence assures the demise of the universe he enters. He is summoned at the end of the universe, however it may come about, and then proceeds to time travel to ensure that his summoning takes place. He is the means of the destruction that you speak of, more powerful than myself and makes the Sovereign Slayer look like a sniveling runt in comparison. Part of my aforementioned preparations are to set up his arrival and ensure it takes place.
[...] Actually, scratch the last thing I just said. [He says quickly, though casually and without hurry. As someone who doesn't lie, this correction was planned out. A sort of 'joke' to make this conversation more lively.] I don't need to ensure he arrives. It is an inevitability, dictated by the Alpha Timeline, just as it is inevitable that you will all cross his path one way or another.
He was already here.
[...Ah, speaking of that timeline-] Now, before we continue, I want to ask you something. Do you know what the Alpha Timeline is? It's a term repeated many times, and as a Seer of Mind you make use of it and other offshoot timelines frequently, but do you know what it exactly is?
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And Scratch knows it. That's why he can sit here so calmly, explaining things to her like it's all from some fake fairy-tale book. Like it doesn't matter to him if she knows it or not in the end because it won't matter.
He gets her thinking about the Alpha timeline, and her blind Seer's eyes flick up in his direction, burning.]
It is the path we can't stray from. It's the same one Dave had to maintain for his session, and it's the one Aradia made so many timeloops around to stabilize ours. It's the one that I also had to contribute to by making the right decisions.
[But if everything else he's said is true- if it is an inevitability, dictated by the Alpha Timeline is true- then...]
It's what would happen anyway, without our influence or not, except because it's all already going to happen we influence it anyway and fulfill the requirements to keep it the way it's meant to be even while we try to change things like a bunch of fucking dunk- dumbasses. The Alpha timeline is consistent. If it's not... that's how a doomed timeline happens.
That's what you mean, isn't it?
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Yes, you are mostly correct. That is the basic concept you have familiarized yourself with and does accurately describe the Alpha Timeline. There is only one part left out, but that is more a fault of your ignorance toward it. The Alpha Timeline is also the timeline which holds both my birth and my death. In fact, you can say that the timeline began right at my birth and continued on past my death. The continuum I have mastery over - my timeline. And with my death comes the summoning of my Master.
[For the first time since he came into the room, he lets out a chuckle. It is, as always, full of his ever so gripping humor. Amazing how she knows so much and yet so little.]
This is why I collaborated with the Seer of Light. And, for the record, I told her about being employed to such a villainous man, so don't think this is a big secret only you know. Destroying the sun would be a way to kill me, but my death was already planned through......well, other means lets just say. Nothing important to you. And, to seal the deal I made, I'll tell you his title. You should become familiar with it sooner rather than later anyway.
That is title is: Lord English.
[He stands from his seat. Not for the sake of the announcement, but because the time allocated to her pointless questions was almost out.]
Satisfied yet? Your endeavors in breaking and entering were pointless and none of this really matters, now that the Critical Moment has come and gone and I am effectively dead. The past is the past and nothing can be changed, less you want to risk a doomed timeline. I already told you this, but I feel it needs to repeating--
[And then, in a flash of green, he is gone. But not for long. Because he will instantly reappear in a similar flash. Only now? He's crouching right down in front of her and talking in a softer, if not more condescending, tone.]
Truth hurts.
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