Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What is Telamon?

A divine being, a mere admin in the guise of divinity— the ‘greatest’ swordsman, creator of the Sword Fight on The Heights, potentially the richest ‘robloxian’.

He went by many names countless of times, but for now, he was no Shedletsky, he was Telamon, different, unique, and separated.

Lifting a hand to his face, he felt it, alive that he was, even if he was shackled and bound to this white, endless plane, truly, he mused.

Couldn’t Shedletsky spare some meager entertainment for the one he sealed?

No matter, the admin isn’t here, for some mysterious odd reason! It was surely a delight when someone wasn’t keeping check to make sure his bounds stayed fresh.

Telamon was currently sitting down, mostly in a puddle of ichor, it’s not like moving or running everywhere had mattered, especially when Shedletsky had ‘deactivated’ his account and essentially, sealed him away.(rude!)

The heavy pressure of code had held him down, firewall upon firewall, even magic! For SFOTH’s sake! Surely they didn’t need to go this far?

A conniving, almost worrisome smile encroached on his face, curving upwards gleefully— Not like it’d matter now.

He could feel his wings unravel its binds, shaking away the chains of power and unfurling, unfeathered it will be no more,  Telamon feels his cells, his code coming together, piecing itself as more skin forms, from the bones it used to be, covering the entire wing, even with how large it was, like clawed hands scraping on his very bones, twisting and cracking and regrowing,  strengthening all over again, akin to peeling away his very tendons to make way for the golden blood running in his veins.

Feathers become unbound, prickling and growing, perhaps too fast, with the agonizing lurch of his body, the way it actively grows out of skin and bone, flesh and meat, wrapping it’s tender softness and yet painful and aching entrance against his wings, growing as if it was a plant, it’s growth should not have been this fast, accentuated with the golden blood falling to the ground in small streams, but he did not care.

Golden, purer than any type of blood, holy, righteous it shall be called.

Dribbling down his wings, interlocking with his deep wounds from the feathers, melting, it is blazing hot and how it burns, it burns, painfully so, yet the power it comes from it, one he had long missed, it is cooler than any refreshing pond for a starved god— their own blood fresher than the fountain of youth, for Telamon, he did not care.

Standing up as his bones cracked in place, sinews having grown, reforming, regenerating, marks of countless battles, wear and tear that kept hackling upon his physical form, the gold blood splattered amongst the void in a constant reminder of his failures moved akin to a snake, back into the confines of his open wounds and sealing it together once more, his blood did not pour no longer, climbing up his rich, high end robes, slithering into the cracks of his skin.

Then, a large crack as his head feels heavier, how he missed his upper wings(or that’s what he would usually call them), a painful ringing in his head as blood started to drop and rush down his ear and cheekbones, staining his robes.

The feathers, just like before starts to grow in place— this time it was faster, less painful since the wings were smaller, but feeling the cracking and forming of bones, piecing themselves together and create their own rigs, how his code made it’s home and how it recognized it’s owner so, as if the stars sung for it’s creator, recognizing how he came back.

Telamon can feel the skin of his fingertips peeling off by itself, nails digging into the flesh of his skin as his head tilts in an inhumane way at the contact, eyes dilated much like an owl, his flesh morphs and cuts itself up, whirring and gurgling, the blood drops onto his robes, staining it once more.

It sharpened, the nails then cutting itself up as it inserted itself onto the ends, forming his wonderful claws, the wretched gurgling as he can see more wounds of his re-open to call the golden ichor to return home, slithering and crawling away from his robes and entangling itself in his skin.

He was back, unwounded as it may be, and painful as the transformation was, he stretched out his wings, and Telamon laughed, perhaps true— perhaps manic, chaotic, and his voice rings, echoes and were inlaid with power the realm had not faced in a long, long time.

The deity hummed, moving with a pip in his step as if he had come back to the land of living.

He stretched his hands, joyous.

“How wonderful it is to be back.” Telamon said, the power of his own voice causing the pocket realm to crack, and crack, and even with the hood shadowing his eyes, he knew that freedom was coming.

Now, Telamon unfortunately did not possess any of the SFOTH swords as of yet, thus he materialized a weapon of worship! One named after him, even.

Gold and red, dark, fine blades morph and appear in his hands in a flurry of golden light, radiant and opulent as it was, The Telemonster: the Chaos Edge, a weapon he had blessed personally.

With a decisive, single strike, confident and powered by years and years of pent up power, something that Shedletsky could never redirect to something better, and he’s glad that the admin didn’t, really, his reserve was practically overfilled and flowing like waterfalls.

The endless, white void breaks and shatters upon the force he inhibited, falling to pieces right at his foot, and Telamon can only smile as the white void becomes no more, and the only recognizeable, orange skies become the normal.

He scans the familiar surroundings of the Sword Fight on The Heights, free from that forsaken prison. 

Seeing as his binds didn’t get refreshed, Telamon slightly wondered what went on, did something happen to Shedletsky to cause him to forget? Why! he might as well thank whoever caused it.

Taking a good, deep breath for the first time in a while— the wretched, robloxian air he had once detested eagerly had never felt so good to breathe and revel in once more.

There was so many things he could do, an endless list of oppurtunities! But one that struck out the most was a simple check up, see how the times changed, he can’t afford being left behind, can he?

He should visit ROBLOX HQ, see how things are going!

In an all too familiar motion, he had left the experience, and with some fumbling of his panel, he entered into the experience with quick ease.

Now, Telamon isn’t dumb, contrary to what many of his haters might say, he had obviously disguised himself as some sort of inconspicuous employee, meandering around innocently.

His wings were now white instead of the gold and black, and it had a trail of sparkles following after them, a simple necklace signifying he was an employee was hung around his neck, and a chipper, customer service grin, with blue pants and a black shirt he now wore.

Now, Telamon, emboldened by his new fit had decided to casually strut in— only to hear screaming, chaos, and fire, everything was in panic, disorderly and messy, chaotic if you will.

“The #### happened here..??” He was cut off with a yell, a frantic employee tripping as a stack of papers fell onto the ground. “DUDE! DID YOU LIVE UNDER A ROCK?” He yelled.

No, he lived in a small, white dimension meant to lock him up, good guess though!

“Excuse me?” Telamon took slight offense at a mortal for yelling at him, but they didn’t know, and they seemed more fixated on bringing the absolute tall workload of documents elsewhere, already grasping on the papers in a kneeling position.

The man ran a hand down his hair. “You probably already know— just-!” He heaved, sighing as tightened his grip. “Like, half of the damn admins disappeared, even BUILDERMAN! And the former admin, and Doombringer and just so many-” 

Telamon blinked once or twice. “I just.. aghrh.. everything is in total chaos right now, I gotta go.” The employee murmured a few curses, giving a pitiful glance at Telamon before scurrying away.

The deity only tilted his head.

“Strange, to have Builderman disappearing of all things?” He hummed out loud, his annoyingly calm demeanor a stark contrast to the absolute chaos going around in the background (not that he doesn’t relish in it).

No point in dwelling on it, Telamon did not have much to do, so perhaps he should try and test out his luck, and find that dear admin he knew so well! And also Builderman.

With a click of a button, he had promptly left the experience, appearing at the homepage and faced with dozens of experience gates that he definitely did not recognize, and noticing a few that looked like cashgrabs— he only focused on one thing.

Opening his gui, a personal thing! Really, mostly powered by his godly powers and other things he’d rather not disclose, checking the logs, he’d start scrolling down to see when Shedletsky had last left.

“Interesting.” Telamon exclaimed, wings twitching upwards in curiosity.

There was nothing that would have led to Shedletsky’s disappearance, just a spam and overload of code, no repeating signs or encroaching darkness, nothing— it seemed as if he was ‘hijacked’ in a way, but the great Telamon knew it wasn’t the case.

He doubted the admins or engineers over at the ROBLOX HQ had tried, but godly power, magic and code combined will always have far different results than those mortal inventions.

Telamon had an idea.

Inserting something into the logs, entangling and merging code with arcane prowess, he found a few numbers and letters, varying and probably insignificant to the normal eye, but with a slight touch-

A link was formed, this was far too easy, are these mortals that dumb?

Entering the code in another panel he had loaded up, he was met with another void, this time dark and rather ominous, with his disguise ripped apart and into shreds for some odd reason, but the most notable thing was, 

A certain, enveloping presence of code, he let his own power trickle out in small streams, unnoticeable— but just enough for him to get a good grasp on where he was.

PLACE NAME: FORSAKEN

His little assesment was cut short as a bodiless voice had appeared, looming.

“WhAT aRE yOu DoInG.” It was warped, and obviously had no physical form, the voice being inherently androgynous with several layers of static that even with his advanced hearing, he could barely decipher.

But instead of fear, a deep striking sense of intrigue had followed, this was no eldritch deity, cosmic entity! But it did seem to want to mimic one.

Telamon only grinned at this, all sharp and teeth. “And who might you be?” He cocked his head, even with his towering height, the way he was, well, a contrast to this.. other pocket dimension.

The bundle of code and.. emotions? Provided no response, as Telamon felt a crushing weight fall upon him, only for it to reverberate back and backfire against the entity, if it did have a physical form.

Amused, his eyes crinkled up with a sick sense of glee at the challenge. “A being of code, no wonder! It’s a good thing you managed to pluck their power out, isn’t it?” He chortled.

“QuIeT yOu fOoL.” The entity only hisses and growls and Telamon felt as if they were more animalistic than being, endearing as it felt, they were the one who trapped Builderman of all robloxians, not to mention other him, as weak as that him may be, so perhaps he should exercise some caution.

He raised a hand. “Don’t worry, but perhaps you could show me around?” The being tilted his head. “You’re like a benefactor to me! I was only freed from my little prison when you entrapped Shedletsky, no?”

It was silent, but Telamon took it as a answer.

“Fine, then.” He tsked, shaking his head, “Really, can’t we form some sort of alliance? It’d be a shame if I started siphoning off all the chaos here and use it for my own power.”

Now that provoked a reaction, power, it seemed to have gotten the entity really, really mad, as dozens of little white eyes started popping in the void, staring at him, it was most definitely some sort of show of power, to assert control in a situation.

Telamon thought the eyes were rather pretty, he wondered if this being— if ever adopting a physical form, would have eyes like these, cosmically beautiful.

He only stared back, delighted at the eye contact.

“You hold good eye contact, dear.” He mused, all conniving and foxy as he heard the entity’s voice hitch, most likely in pure anger and fury.

“dO yOu tAkE mE aS a JoKE?” Telamon’s wings only ruffled at the response, tilting his head and zeroing in on one, particular eye. “I’ll take you out to dinner, if that works.”

“Perhaps you wish to get to know Telamon?” He folded his wings in. “I was told that I’m quite charming.” 

He was startled as a blinding, striking white surge came in— it tried to kill him, disintegrating or tearing him apart asunder, what a violent and merciless being, he thought.

Telamon only grinned at the pain, the cracks and open flesh in his skin from the aforementioned action of almost being torn apart physically, being sewn back together by the molten hot ichor, loosely dripping back into the void-esque floor and crawling against his robes to slip back into his wounds.

“Tearing away my mortal form will only leave my godly consciousness, and trust me when I say I will be much harder to get rid of.” He tsked, shaking his head, though the frustration that emanates from this being is rather funny, the deity concludes.

As if a lightbulb appeared on top of his head, he had an idea.

With a click of his hand, he summoned an ordinary hardwood table and chair, the furniture's thump against the void echoing, the chair was unfit and bland for such a grand high being such as Telamon, but it’d make do.

He summoned another chair, opposite of him, as if telling the Spectre to take a seat.

The deity stared ahead, placing a hand on his cheek, and another on the table. “Let’s introduce ourselves, then.” His smile stretched wider. “Pardon my manners after Telamon has so rudely barged in, as you may know, I am.. Telamon.”

After a few seconds of silence, the entity did not seem to want to give its name, nor did it seem to even have a name— either he finds it out by force, or he could give it a nickname.

“Fine then.” Telamon mused, claws tapping against the hardwood table, before an idea came to mind. “How about.. Periboea?” he giggled.

The thing only growled in response, the realm shaking once more as if it was trying to make god get up and just, leave.

“LeAvE tHiS pLaCe iMmEdIatElY, TELAMON, yOu UtTeR mIsTaKe."

Telamon only had a mock pout, before smiling unabashedly. “Wow! Acknowledging Telamon as a deity though, very kind of you! Most would rather not, you see?” 

He laughed heartily, shaking his head. “Perhaps a less physical form would make you comfier?” The winged man tilted his head, hands entwined together. 

Before a sudden pressure befallen the entire realm, but with a blink— just like that, it was gone, more so a silent threat.

“I only wish to get to know my saviour more.” He crooned, claw scratching against the table.

With a slight chirr, he stared right at its eyes intensely, unblinking even if his eyes were covered by the shadow of his hood. “Perhaps you would rather be called Saviour? But you must admit, Periboea is such a pretty name..”

“QuIeT, yOuR vOicE sIckEnS mE.” His saviour admonishes, voice reverberating through the realm as its displeasure was made known by the rippling of said realm, the pocket dimension seeming to try and fold in on itself.

Telamon giggled, truly endeared by its harsh reprimands and over the top actions, such as trying to kill him.

“Does it now? Your voice is like a drug to me, then.” He cooed, sickly saccharine.

He leaned on the chair, wings spreading slightly and touching the floor, Periboea seemed to get even more upset at this.

“I wILl rIp aNd tEaR oFf yOuR wInGS yOu fOUl beINg.” His saviour roars, and he now felt a horrible and twistful, force erupting within his feathers, Telamon did not wince, blanch or twitch.

With a snap of his fingers, he shakes the force off, shaking his wings as only a handful of feathers fly off, he chortles once more.

“This little banter is really getting us nowhere,” The deity shrugged, now seeming a slight bit more serious.

“As much as Telamon would like to dip even further into our.. wonderful talks, Telamon is truly quite curious on what goes on in this beautiful place you have created.” As if proving his point, he made an incision into the void, taking a slice off of reality.

This seemed to only make his saviour panic, from the sheer brazen aura it starts to emanate, “Alright alright—” He placed it back in, shrugging. “Telamon will respect your boundaries!” the deity quickly reassured.

A few minutes of silence ensued between them, he didn’t mind, he could wait for however long the entity needed him to, after all, it was his saviour.

“..I fEeD oFf tHeIr eMoTiOnS.” It snarls, annoyed that it even had to talk, but it’s either that or this deity digs through what they’ve worked so hard on and everything falls into pieces.

He perks up. “Continueee...” and he pushes forward.

The dimension heats up with a slight, commanding pressure, as if telling Telamon to keep it down or else.

“ThEy'Re StUcK iN aN eNdLeSs sYstEm oF RoUndS I hAvE dEsiGnEd.” It sneers, or at least that’s what Telamon thinks it would do. “AnD I gAIn mUcH pOwEr iN dOiNg sO. FeEdiNg OfF tHeIr nEgAtIvE eMotIOnS."

Telamon felt a weird rush of happiness, clapping his hands, truly gleeful— “I’m so glad you didn’t lie to me, love!” The swordmaster kicks his feet, his wings shaking as if he didn’t expect this outcome.

His saviour only emanates an aura of confusion, what caused him to act like this? It didn’t lie because it truly had no choice, it’s countless eyes narrowed, perplexed. “dO yOu thINK I aM a FoOl?” It growled.

That caused the winged being to cock its head, much akin like the owls it sometimes placed in its dimension. “I aM nOt jUsT a RidiCulOus bEInG yOu cAn toY wiTh, yOu dIsGusTing lIfEfOrM!” Its voice crescendoed, until the entire realm was shaking at the seams.

Telamon knew that, if he wasn’t quite as powerful as he’d been, he would be ripped to shreds— but perhaps, even with how this being hates him, willing to kill him and it has very much tried, many times in this short interaction, he simply felt his breath fall short.

“You, truly are a breath-taking being.” Telamon stated, far too earnest, truthful, with his hands placed on the table and wings folded in so neatly, to the point the being did not know what to quite say.

For a moment, its breath hitched again, speechless beyond words as Telamon stared right to one of it’s many dozen eyes, but it felt like he was staring at it, binary and code seeming to melt into nothing at the weight of what he saw.

Telamon had seemed to snap out of it— only shaking his head as his wings flapped absent-mindedly. “Now, did that get your attention?” He smirked, the same, foxy smile—

It felt as if he was playing it off, and it felt bitter, it tried to shake the emotions off as quick as the ‘feelings’ had come in, a consequence of not being able to fully translate the survivors' negative emotions into power.

“EnOuGh! lEaVe mY diMenSIoN.” Another admonishing, another high command, with some sort of underlying emotion, Telamon knew he practically never listens, but it felt ‘tense’, especially now.

He could always visit again.

“Alright then.” Telamon stood up from his chair, pulling the seat back into the table he had summoned in a neat, and classy fashion.

It was a bit shocked, not quite expecting him to have agreed, perhaps he will forget about it and never co-

Its thoughts were cut short as he only flashed a chipper and knowing grin, akin to the ones he kept repeatedly flashing during their first meeting.

And before it could say anything, another threat, or an action to try and kill this foolish god once more, he disappeared with a flash, and truly, the only thing he left behind was just;

A hardwood table, 2 chairs, and a handful of beautiful(?) Black and gold feathers.

Chapter Text

The feathers and chair were burned and thrown away, wood grains dusted to nothing and obliterated from the black, void-like pocket dimension the entity nestles in, it had no use for such— normal matters like these, even with the god giving it to them with such happiness to the point it was sickening.

For a deity of that power, it sure likes to act more mortal than anything.

Oh! How it hated TELAMON, it hated him, it hated how he would smile, his grin as chipper as it could be, it hated how he was akin to an equal in it's presence, no, it hated how he had power over it, the fact that it had to bend to this foolish god.

The clump of code seethed, its little void rumbling and threatening to fall apart at the pure fury radiating off of it, that god made it look like a fool, he really did, and it was never supposed to be made a fool.

And how it detested that being with all its might, to even give it a name as dainty as Periboea! Did he think it was a joke? That it couldn’t be taken seriously? It had kidnapped the very builders of reality, yet that god swooped in and asserted power over the conversation, situation, and acted as if it was nothing.

The entity, though enraged, turned towards the survivors, already squeezing the negative emotions they’ve felt during the rounds with such a force, yet its mood barely lightened, in fact, it might've gotten worse.

TELAMON was in its mind, living rent-free and looking at it mockingly, wings splayed out and a hand sneakily placed on his chin, staring at it with a sickening gaze it could not decipher, nor read into.

It wondered, what did he want? 

Was it really an alliance that he wanted? It had no need for such trivial things— nor did it appreciate being looked at as some saviour for a god that has long fallen from his heights.

After all, if he truly was powerful, then what was Shedletsky doing in its grasp? A mere pawn of its games and rounds, the being assured itself that Telamon was nothing compared to it, given that it had a ‘slice’ of him anyways.

Not to mention, he said he was sealed, or at least implied it, another testament to his fragility and inadequateness, perhaps it could make it clear to the foolish god that it had no interest playing saviour, that it could care less with his power, one as weak as him did not matter.

It felt a sudden jolt of anger and vexation—

Even then! Its attempts to outright eliminate that worthless, weak, good-for-nothing deity proved fruitless, useless, it knew it had so much more power than Telamon, it had to have more.

A physical form is nothing against a being that doesn’t have one, it could not get tired, could not be injured. It shouldn’t worry about a god that deliberately places himself in such an awful disadvantage, even that god that calls itself ‘The Spawn’ was more civil and acted akin to how a deity would.

But it wasn’t stupid— of course it wasn’t! That deity did have power and it was one of the things it could not accept, how long has that god broken out of its chains and found its realm?

It knew it hid it well, with the way none of those filthy robloxians had even discovered or caught a smidge of it, and yet Telamon did. It knew he was much less robloxian and more deity, but the way he acted was as frustrating and unbecoming of a deity, more akin to mortals and tyranny.

The teasing, chatter, and lack of respect for it-

The entity hissed, code fluctuating and glitching in further irritation.

Perhaps it should set up more walls to deter the god from coming back, or try and capture the being? See how painful it is to be subjected under it, how humiliating he will feel, a god brought even deeper into the ground.

It’s not like it hadn’t tried to, it really did— but the deity shook off the attempts with surprising, chilling ease, Shedletsky was a former admin, and Builderman was the CEO, and Dusekkar was a whole other subject.

Those 2 seemed much more powerful, now it didn’t care nor payed attention to comparing sizes of power on survivors, and yet it was sure Shedletsky, who was connected to Telamon, was weaker than the two.

Yet, why was Telamon so powerful? That it could brush off it’s attempts to kill it, how he makes it seems that its attempts to obliterate him from atoms to code to nothing at all was futile, how he could chirr and chirp and stare at it intensely and make it feel things it should not feel—

If it had teeth, it would be grinding them right now.

The code concluded that it must be hate, or some sort of equally negative, enraging emotion, or at least it felt sick of that cloaked being! Because he will come back, he had to, seeming so keen and interested in it, a saviour for him, a nuisance for it.

Telamon smiled, which almost seemed to be all he ever did! Even during times of his imprisonment, the battle, his expression had barely wavered when that former admin swung his sword with such brutality, intensity and acceptance at the fallen deity.

So, that’s exactly why he might have lied to his saviour.

The deity floated in the realm of dreams, or at least the confined and closed sphere of it, given the realm didn’t seem to have a lot of space, his wings ruffled at the cosmic logic, they never really made sense.

Though, he still wanted to get to know things more, who could blame him, really? (Who would dare to?)

That’s exactly why he’d adopted a much more meta-physical form, floating around on certain frequencies, a little fun trick he’d once learnt! And given the conditions of the realm, it was perfect, he could barely, if rarely ever do this trick on the platform, most experiences just not being suitable for it.

Flapping his wings, he manuevered around the cabin, it was spacious, if not a bit dry or bland, But well-lived in, some of the survivors were in these.. ‘games’ as of current, if Telamon wasn’t wrong.

The deity glided and went through the door of the main cabin, seeing the greenery, and also the stark constrast of it, a robloxian sitting alone near a nearby, most likely empty cabin.

He hovered near a man with a burger placed atop his head, and an aura that reeked of sadness, and dissonance, he had quite a unique shirt though, maybe even humorous!

But, one of the more notable things though, was the fact the man reeked of malicious code despite his out-of-earth countenance, Telamon tilted his head, an amused smile as a wispy finger prodded on his cheek.

Before letting out a bored sigh, stretching and floating elsewhere— that’s not the type of survivor he’s trying to find right now, and the deity is gonna have to make this quick.

Phasing through the cabin doors, he spotted the set of tall stairs, he had already started making his way up, levitating with his robes and legs in the air, hovering just above touching the hardwood flooring.

There, as he reached the top, Telamon saw 2 survivors, one that was distinctly a noob who was sitting on the floor, seemingly fixated on making.. were those bracelets? Out of bloxy cola cans and other assortments of items.

He turned his head, and saw a robloxian with matted, black hair and pale skin, a ‘fragile’ physique, and a boney tail— and they wore a shirt with a familiar symbol, Telamon is sure he saw that from somewhere, but if he forgot then it must not be that important.

Tilting his head, he got closer and hovered near them, looming over and assessing them with a critical eye, their hand was holding a book, it seemed heavily annotated and loved.

The robloxian even had a kind smile as he read it, though, they seemed to have some rather deep eyebags but considering they were in.. hell? It was a given, other than that, they seemed to be more so a well-adjusted adult who was thrown in this realm haphazardly.

A breathy chuckle escaped him, exactly what he’s been trying to find, someone well-adjusted and emotionally stable, they were definetly a bookworm with how they kept murmuring the lines in the book over and over again.

He mused, wondering when they’d fall asleep just so he could appear in their dreams, any normal and sensible robloxian would fall to their knees at the sight of him, and thus giving him a goldmine of answers of what was going on here.

If that didn’t work, he could just try other survivors, that distinctly noob robloxian would also fit, though they seemed rather skittish.

Shaking his head, Telamon decidedly left Two Time alone for now, simply phasing through the ceiling towards the roof of the cabin, there was a chance that Shedletsky might see him, and if he did, then his saviour might be alerted, and he can’t quite bare seeing it mad at him again! Can he?

His musings were cut short as a bell, most likely a gong was sounded, his wings twitched as he felt the presence of more robloxians popping in the cabin, the chattering having started immediately.

He stole a glance, peeking at a window upside-down, claws gripping at the roof and wings tightly folded in.

Telamon was pleasantly surprised! What a colorful group of survivors.

Grinning, maybe he didn’t quite have to resort to visiting only one survivor for information, they were all secluded in a pocket dimension anyways, he should enjoy himself.

The deity didn’t know there were THIS many survivors in its realm, and he faintly wondered where they all slept, giggling at imagining a big cuddle pile, though brushing the thought off soon after.

The door of the cabin burst open, and Telamon beheld a sight to see,

A robloxian, probably not that old with grey skin, but one of the more notable traits were his limiteds, the shades and headphones, and a fedora adorned on his head as he nonchalantly flipped a coin, an easygoing smile on his face.

By his side was a man, tall and tough— maybe a bit gruff? But his smile said otherwise, he had blue locks and a seemingly tough demeanor, must be some sort of soldier, his bodyguard?

“Yeah— and you wouldn’t you know? Lady Luck forsook me and my gun exploded on my face!” Chance shook his head, only grinning at the memory as Guest 1337 only rolled his eyes half-heartedly.

Patting his shoulder, the war veteran shrugged. “Perhaps she wants you to get something more reliable..” he advised with a light snicker.

Chance sighed, as if upset by the advice. “Not even a ‘that’s so sad, Chance!’ no remorse or pity now, huh..” They huffed with no real offense taken, though exaggerating the sentence by slumping. Guest nudged them at the sides as the 2 slowly delved into lighthearted banter.

Their voices drifted out as they walked further and further away from the main cabin, leaving Telamon perched on top of said cabin’s roof, tilting his head curiously, far too much like an owl.

An interesting dynamic, a soldier and someone of high class, or at least that’s what it seemed to the deity, he still hasn’t quite gotten a good grasp on the survivors' personalities, but that should change soon enough.

With a yawn, he brought his knees closer against his torso, it had been a while since Telamon had seen the stars.

Looking up, the sky sure was pretty, even if he knew it was fake, and most definetly not real, but if he looked close enough, then the stars seem to start mimicking the entity's eyes, and now it seemed as if he couldn't take his eyes off of the cosmic beings.

Unable to help it, he snickered, his newest, but one of the more fonder memories replaying in his mind, it felt saccharine and sickly sweet, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His legs straightened as a brilliant idea popped up in his mind, even if his presence was generally unwanted by the entity, he should give it one more visit after his little dream escapade.

That sounded nice-

Steps started to echo behind him, Telamon was slightly startled, wings twitching upwards, but the survivor probably couldn't see him anyways, was he really that stuck in his thoughts? He chuckled to himself.

And yet, he found a blade, a Linked Sword, a familiar scent, akin of fresh, cooked chicken, yellow skin and an almost too familiar presence and aura surrounding him.

Telamon looked up, having to crane his neck a bit more due to the cold metal pressing against his neck and with the added shade provided from his hood.

His mouth then curved to a low, almost predatory smile.

“Shedletsky.” He utters the word, the deity staring at the former admin who most definitely saw better days, if the eyebags were not obvious enough.

Shedletsky only has an impassive expression. “Telamon.” He spat, and the deity held back cocking his head at the poison in his tone, what did he do to inspire such ire?

“Shedletsky!” He repeated, this time with more friendliness rather than contempt, after all someone had to be the bigger person, even if he was subject to being a felled, and locked god.

The chicken-loving man only hissed under his breath, expression serious as the metal inched closer to his neck, threatening to cut through his muscular triangle, and probably til’ the carotid triangle.

“Why are you here?” Shedletsky questioned, but it was much more like a demand. Curly brown locks bouncing as he kneeled, positioning himself slightly above Telamon.

“I knew I sensed something off— but to find you here? Did The Spectre catch you too, once you broke out of that experience?” He asked again, but Telamon perked up, only focusing on one thing.

“So, it’s called The Spectre?” He tilted his head, almost giddy at having found out its name, and not minding how the blade slightly cut into his neck, gold blood already dripping(and staining his robes).

The swordmasters face scrunched up, “What?— yeah, just answer the other questions.” He sneered, or at least an attempt to sneer, the former admin really just looked tired, or mad.

“Alright, right.” Telamon rolled his eyes, a playful, leisure smile as the molten ichor was already travelling up his robes and crawling back to the wound, making the former admins face twist in a bit of disgust.

“For one, I did break out!” He wiggled his wings, both his back and head as if to signify his apparent victory. “And two,” he raised his claws. “I wasn’t captured, in fact, I was looking for you.” He grinned coyly.

“Aren’t I so nice? Worrying for my captor? I’m sure they called this Stockholm Syndro-” The blade pressed tighter against his neck, cutting him off as more blood started flowing down.

Shedletsky only grimaced as molten hot ichor dribbled down, but he continued. “So what? You’re here to mock us, torment us? Or—" He paused.

"Could you get me and everyone else out of here?” It sounded somewhat similar to a plea, an ask for help, and he didn't know why this was directed to Telamon of all beings.

It was obvious the deity had come with intentions that only benefitted himself, and he’d probably take everyone else BUT Shedletsky— he seemed to be petty enough to do that.

But Shedletsky had been here for far, FAR too long, to the point that he’d practically take anything now, maybe Telamon will finally do his job as a high god and actually help ‘mortals’, even if he wasn't quite one.

Telamon only hummed, musing.

“I’m not too sure,” he tilted his head, still undeniably not-threatened by the blade to his throat. “I was locked up for years! Or what felt like it,” he laughed, though it slowly morphed to something bitter.

His claws came up and gripped at the linked sword, the metal digging into his claws as his eyes seemed to light up, fully craning his neck to stare right into Shedletky’s eyes.

A lopsided, almost disturbing smile was engraved on his lips.

“You know— and of course you do, my wings were cut, the flesh melting into nothing but blood, feathers ripped apart and burnt in front of me, and all that was left was its boney remains, unlike it's previous glory, it was a mockery to my form—" He snickered, eyes closing.

"And surely, you relished in it, did you not? Seeing me kneel down, hands and shoulder shaking as my wings were oh, so suddenly clipped? I'm sure you understand just how torturous it all felt, sitting in a puddle of my own blood."

Something in his eyes; manic fervor, akin to bitterness, acceptance, a manic sort of insanity as he brung his claws up, gripping the linked sword, tight and increasing, blood seeping from his hands and dropping onto his robes again.

“Do you understand how painful it all was? To have my head wings taken apart from me? I could barely stand, those helped with my balance, you know?” A raspy giggle, and Shedletsky only swallowed his saliva, his expression passive, but eyebrows furrowed.

“Telamon, you were killing people.”

And silence, there was no quip back, no retaliation, no denial, simply a metal blade grazing upon his neck, and a fair demise, a justified judgement.

Telamon’s smile curved upwards, stretching further instead of the forced, almost disturbingly easygoing smile he had on, his shoulders shaking, trembling, but with a different reason.

“And that’s the truth.” His grip on the linked sword tightened more, not caring about the blood pouring out of his claws, his claws denting the sheen and body of the sword as it started to bend.

Shedletsky’s eyes widened as Telamon spread his wings and abruptly pushed him back, the sword, though causing a deep wound on his neck, had already started piecing itself back together, little gold, ichor-like slugs slipping into the cracks of his skin.

His wings ruffled, standing up and stretching as he sighed, his hand brushing against his neck to touch the faint mark of the sword, Telamon stared at Shedletsky eye-to-eye, and all he could find that in the very reflection of Shedletsky’s eyes, were him.

“You don’t need to worry.” Telamon said, and before Shedletsky told him to continue, he cut him off.

With a dramatic motion of his hand, Shedletsky’s dented sword was replaced with a new, sleek and clean Linked Sword, “All the chaos I could cause is already in Robloxia, the admins and engineers disappearing caused quite the ruckus.” He sniggered.

Seeing the former admins face morph into a slow, resounding realization was quite a show. “I’ll just be here, you know? Or somewhere else, not like you’d find me either way.” He hummed a hymn.

He took a step or two closer to Shedletsky, and Shedletsky, though registering Telamon as someone low on the.. threat list(at least for now) still raised his sword, taking a step back and assuming stance and position.

Telamon didn't seem bothered, not at all with how he took another step forward. “All I ask is that you don’t mention me to The Spectre or any of the survivors.” the deity crooned, the voice laced with a venomous thrall.

A few dozen emotions flickered over Shedletsky, his countenance, or perhaps something else— wavering, Telamon muffled a giggle as he could see the gears turning in the other’s head.

With an annoyed, but almost dejected sigh, his Linked Sword that he gripped on so tightly before clanged against the rooftop, giving Telamon a levelling glare. “Fine, then, I’m sure my conditions are already pretty clear? Don’t hurt or touch a single hair on any of these survivors.”

Telamon only shrugged, rather endeared at such protectiveness, as if the two had mentally agreed to brush off the tense situation only a few minutes before.

“Wow, you really are a chicken! Mother-henning them.” He laughed at his own joke, folding his wings, not quite realizing that he was the one who had the feathers.

Shedletsky, though had the same, almost impassive and frankly annoyed, irritated expression.

The former admin gave a sigh and turned back, unequipping his sword with a flurry of particles as he started clambering down to the floor, not quite keen on spending the rest of the night with Telamon, he needed some sleep.

“Bedtime?” Telamon grinned, though despite the inquiry coming off as more teaseful, it was a genuine question, not that Shedletsky could even recognize it. 

He only gave Telamon a nod, not bothering for a response.

“Cya.” 

And just like that, Shedletsky's steps fizzled out into nothing, leaving the hooded figure alone at the rooftop with only his wings, he, and himself as company.

The deity stayed still for a few seconds, as if thinking and wondering on just 'what happened?' It's not like he wasn't unhappy with how the conversation had turned out, even if it did pick at some wounds that had long scabbed over.

The presence of stars in the skies(and how easily he could pretend it was The Spectres wonderful eyes), Telamon only smiled as he floated off the rooftop.

He should get started on his Dream Escapede, shouldn't he?

Chapter Text

The abyssal sky was dotted with stars, clear and as endless as the abyss— the moon seeming to be engraved with the symbol of The Spawn, a mark of protection, or maybe of penitence.

They found themselves surrounded in an amassing field of flowers that seemed to never end, they knelt down and picked at a flower with purple petals, thumbs brushing against the main body tenderly.

Their smile stretched wider at the color, a good memory? tail coiling around the soft petals, they stood up with a rustle and carefully stepped. 

Two Time hummed, a hymn playing over their dream like some sort of movie, crescendoing in various pitches, before settling on in an unstable tune, comforting, a reminder.

They moved through the flowers slowly, soaking in the night, starry skies and cold ambiance. It was a break from all those forsaken games of hell, wasn’t it?

Surely it’s a gift for my faith. Two Time felt inclined to think, especially since the Spawn symbol was etched on the moon, pulsating and rippling against the sky, it must be confirmation!

Then, after what seemed to be miles, and miles of walking— Two Time felt water lap at their feet, surprised, they curiously looked around to find themselves in a whole other area, the field of flowers long gone and replaced with some sort of beach.

The sky was more orange, perhaps a mix of red and yellow? Akin to dawn, but not quite, like an eternal inbetween of day and night.

They ran a hand down their hair, gazing towards the encompassing ocean, they felt their tail lower.

There was no sun, or moon, just the striking colors of the sky illuminating the distance, the dreamworld.

(There was no Spawn symbol for that matter.)

Suddenly, they flinched at a thunderous strike in the distance, at some sort of pillar that was sloppily dug onto the sand, slipping, tilting, a sword of pure, purple light embedded into it.

What was that?

It seemed similar.

They knew they shouldn't trust foreign mysterious objects, and yet they found themselves almost entranced, involuntarily stepping to it— they couldn’t help but equip their ritual dagger as they approached closer to the pillar.

It was of quartz, sleek and pristine, immaculate at it's conception, it melted of gold and ichor with feathers surrounding it, a golden, almost enticing light spewed over it, a cinematic display of attraction.

The closer they find themselves nearing, the heavier the air had gotten, as if light was bending and warping in itself and twisting in ways so unnatural, it felt heavy against their mortal form, even in a dream.

Yet, as they slumped towards the pillar— they dug their ritual dagger into cold stone, a crack being caused soon after, spreading almost as quickly as it was caused, and then a loud crash, a fracture.

Two Time’s eyes widened as the pieces dissolved into nothing, floating away in the wind like dust particles, the only thing that was left was a bright, glowing purple sword, just begging for them to take it.

However, it seemed similar in shape towards Shedletsky’s linked sword.

They tilted their head as they unequipped the ritual dagger, shrugging off the property damage, and tenderly grasping the hold of the sword, fingers pressed against the handle.

It was unique, to say the least, most definitely not fit for their hands.

Their fingers seemed to obscure the light, but the sparkles floating off the sword were almost ticklish, playing and floating around them like little fireflies, it was kind of similar to flies, just that it was less annoying, or creepy looking.

They wondered what this meant in their dream, seeing the fact they—

“Enjoying yourself?” A voice, most definitely male, echoey, reverberating through the expanse as if he was some sort of deity, they turned their head, slightly startled, when finding no figure, they looked up.

Afloat in the air was a cloaked being, with some sort of fire ring acting as a halo, his wings were black and gold as he used them to float off the ground, they couldn’t quite see his eyes with the hood obscuring it, yet the gold emblazoned within fine, dark fabrics only spoke of prestige and opulence.

Was it an angel sent from the Spawn?

No, it couldn’t be, their symbol was devoid of this man, or thing, perhaps entity?

Their brows furrowed in distrust, dropping the sword as if it personally offended them, Two Time equipped the ritual dagger, a threateningly calm aura—

The entity only grinned, chuckling, perhaps similar to a fox.

“Now now, I don’t get why you’d be on the offensive after seeing me.” He tilted his head, an amused tone playing in his voice. “Pray tell, what are you gonna do with that dagger?”

Their eyes flitted over the sword as it seemed to disperse in thin air, this entity must be a demon invading their headspace, there truly was no shortage of unholiness.

“Unholy, sinful being.” Two Time muttered, finding themselves move with purpose at the fact that this thing is an evil, demonic entity and must be eliminated, their hold on the dagger tightened further.

Yet, the demon only seemed slightly confused, as if the concept of being unholy was not a graspable one. “Did I mishear that?” He mused, though then rudely interrupted with a mad swing to his neck.

His wings ruffled as he elevated himself further from Two Time, the cultist seemed extremely fixated— just not in the good way, not in the way his followers were but maybe the way they seemed very intent on eliminating him.

These rounds were their punishment, all for the Spawn, perhaps termination of a demon is one step closer to repentance.

“You foul, deceptive demon, the Spawn shall surely kill you.” Two Time preaches— or threatens, maybe a bit of both.

“Their countless gazes are never ending, always moving, caring, living, they breathed life to this verse, you obtuse, obscene being.” They snarled, preaching, and also insulting, dagger pointed straight at the deity.

The entity only seemed even more confused, holding his claws up— claws!

“Hold on, do you seriously not recognize me?” He asked, as if he wasn’t a demon, only chuckling, acting like this wasn’t an unexpected outcome, what a borish tactic, as if they would fall for it.

Perhaps he thought they’ll kneel over and trust an unknown entity in their dreams, they knew and killed far too many dream demons and entities like him, what a fool to think they were an easy target, it must be fate.

“I do not fall for deceitful demons like yourself, do you not realize how shameful it is to wear the skin of a robloxian? And then give yourself wings as if you’d ascended.” It was truly the pinnacle of ego, a blasphemous act against those truly holy.

The demon laughed again, this time just as real, endeared, maybe. "You seem mistaken— I’m no demon, silly mortal!” He grinned, all teeth, sharp as he descended in a flurry of feathers, the distance between them a second ago seemed non existent as he grasped onto Two Time’s shoulders tightly.

“I’m Telamon.” 

He cocked his head, letting the statement ring in the air for a hot few seconds, perhaps for climax— he's always adored the cinematic things at times.

Then, the dream shattered entirely, the beach fading away and glitching out of existance as the sand flies and falls into nothing, the ocean boils and evaporates, and all that was left were cracks and tears, black islands with a white backdrop, a buzzing of crickets in the background. Bare.

Two Time heaved as they fell onto one of the black islands with a thump. eyes widened and shoulders shaking at the force, they lifted their head up to this— demon? Deity? Whatever this thing seemed to prance around as.

They only let out a laugh, akin to amused, to think a demon could fool them like this? “A deity? I do hope the Spawn even considers forgiving you for your terrible lies, demon.” They hissed.

The demon(?) only tilted his head, or was it Telamon? If that was actually his name.

“Then, how can I prove it to you? And I don’t think the Spawn can relinquish another god’s sins.” He snickered, giggling breathily as he looked down upon Two Time’s mortal form.

Under the eyes of a deity, even if it was only a mere dream, there was some sort of pressure to it that only the ferverent could understand.

They dug their dagger deep into the ground, a terrible, screeching sound played as the symbol of the Spawn was etched onto it in slow, deliberate strokes.

‘Telamon’ only seemed to frown, just slightly. “Telamon really doesn’t care about your perception of me.” He shook his head, and crossed his arms, wings folding in slightly as he seemed.. oddly bored?

“What matters is that.. you should really tell me everything you know about these rounds.” The shameless want came as clear as it went out, he smiled cheerily as Two Time’s head snapped up, Telamon held in a flinch at how quick it was.

The cultist tilted their head, but instead of the smooth, almost owlish tilt they usually do, it’s the slow, almost twitching kind— probably not quite registering his words.

They smiled, eyes twitching, yet crinkled up. “Why would I do that? You foul demon.” They remark, extremely unremorseful for their words, it was probably meant to hurt.

Telamon sighed, frowning as he let out a tut, he floated closer to their kneeled form, then, just as he was slightly above them, he tapped on their forehead. “Let’s put our thinking caps on.” He hummed.

“I invaded your dream, I was able to control it in fact!” He raised one claw. “Second, I said I’m a deity.” Another, “That’s an unchangeable fact, even if you don’t believe in me, and third, I want something.” Three claws were now held up.

Two Time still felt distrustful, they couldn’t show any signs of weakness to whatever this entity was, some sort of dream eater? Did it want to play in these rounds as well? Invade the realm and take place of the god-awful being who put them through all this?

Telamon did none of that, not even a small hint that it was his intention to do so, he floated off, standing and straightening up in an elevated position, just right above Two Time.

“I can do many things to you, and a lot of them aren’t very kind.” Telamon(?) grinned, his eyes were deep, shaded and changing in a color they couldn't comprehend. Two Time felt a slight shudder come in as cold ran through their veins.

The Spawn will protect me. A mantra, and they felt their belief harden.

“Play your cards right, and just obey, mortal.” 

Two Time looked on the ground, contemplating, thinking.

To have to obey another god, if it even was one, felt blasphemous to the cultist, this chaotic deity was not their all-seeing Spawn, kind, loving, and all-forgiving, it was ruthless and threatening, greedy like the sin they spoke out against.

He seemed endeared and amused, viewing mortals as little nothings, it thrived off of chaos, and they hated beings as leisurely yet ruthless as this one, with only want and thing benefitting his own mind.

And yet, the cultist found themselves standing up, their ritual dagger unequipped, and the demon’s smile stretching wider than they have ever seen.

And it spills, everything they knew about these hellish rounds, every survivor or emotion, their habits and tidbits and things they've picked up on just from their observations, why did they keep on going?

If they paid attention better, especially the heavyweight in the air, it really was just some simple, self preservation instincts taking control of their wellbeing, fear was what kept robloxians alive most of the time.

Telamon might not be the best judge of character as he initially thought, he didn’t think that he’d find one of the Spawn’s worshippers here, but not quite worshippers! Cultists, actually.

Wonderful, no wonder he didn’t recognize the symbol, must be some sort of branch— he's met The Spawn before, though it was mostly just passing by, they didn't seem like a cruel deity.

But.. of course they thought he was a demon— rude, really, he was literally the opposite, maybe his actions tend to go closer to that of demons but he wad rightfully a god.

Besides that, this cultist was surprisingly helpful and insightful, all those times dissecting and reciting scripture and practicing rituals really nailed their prose and descrptions.

“That's about it.” They mumbled, glaring right into his eyes(or where they should be).

Telamon clapped his hands together, joyful as he twirled in the air. “Telamon is overjoyed you decided to cooperate, cultist.” He grinned, acting like he didn’t just call them a cultist, like he didn't just mock their very religion.

Two Time frowned deeper, eyebrows furrowing and resentment bubbling in their veins.

“You foul being, exit my dreamscape at once.” They glowered at Telamon angrily, yep, the hostility is there again!

The deity only rolled his eyes, folding in his wings and landing on the ground with a slight smirk. “Alright, alright!” He chuckled, not taking this seriously.

“See you, then.” Two Time opened their mouth as if to say something, but the deity was already gone, dispersing in a flurry of fire and feather.

They blinked.

It was the flower field again, the dark, comforting sky, no pillar or blindingly bright sword was in sight, or a deity with wings that could rival the clouds and a glow that can strike terror into stars could be seen.

The wind plays with their hair.

Telamon was pulled out of their dreamscape with a surprising amount of force, and as they dared to stare up at what kind of being would even dare to—

The black, encompassing void, the white eyes staring at him.

Instead of shock, he smiled brightly.

“The Spectre, that’s your name, wasn’t it?” He tilted his head, hand wrapped around his back as the deity eagerly waited for an answer, acting like the entity wasn’t extremely angered at the intrusion, the breaking of a deal.

“yOu fOolIsH dEiTy!” It roared, Telamon flapped his wings and gained some height, falling over in front of it would be rather embarrassing, especially with how the dimension seemed to be shaking at the seams.

“To tHinK yOu mEdDleD wiTh wHaTs mInE.” It hisses, before continuing with an equally angry tone. “dO nOt dEfY mE! I hAvE nEver lEfT, I aM aLwayS hErE, dO yOu tAkE mE aS a MorOn?"

As it continued to rant, Telamon only continued to smile, as if he wanted it to keep being angry. “Never left? Is that for me?” He snickered, before a sudden, blinding force went through his body, his eyes widened.

Yet his wings kept moving, even with the copious amounts of ichor flowing out of him, it was painful, and the silence spoke more words than what could be said, even the Spectre seemed shocked it had seemingly worked.

Time had almost seemed to slow down, Telamon’s hand went to the wound— finding the situation, or the fact he’d been turned to a literal donut almost amusing.

With a warm, bright light, the Spectre witnessed torn flesh regenerate, connect, slinking atom and atom, code and code, it sees how it pulses, gurgles, his blood had hands and it kept reaching out, only to be nullified, forced to flow in his blood streams again.

The flesh and blood coiled together, the bone sharpening and forming, remembering its place that was coded in centuries ago, it knew where to be, The Spectre just wondered why the process of piecing everything back together was so slow—

Telamon’s blood actively burned the flesh, squelching and squealing in his body when the skin hadn't fully formed, the ichor then cooled down after the skin seemed to have fully developed.

Fabric knitted itself together, and the deity only laughed, a genuinely gleeful and manic laugh, and weirdly enough, it was genuine, like pain was nothing but an obstacle that was barely there.

“You know just what spots to hit!” He continued to giggle, and it was confusing, The Spectre was confused at the joyful attitude, as if a hole wasn’t blown right through his organs, his very intestines.

It let out some sort of hiss, growling. “WhY aRE yOu JoYfUl.” It asked, anger almost dissipating behind its tone replaced with some sort of sense of genuine curiosity, or was it disgust at his actions?

The answer was a earnest, but relaxed smile, he leaned forward as if he knew just where The Spectre is. “Any injuries you do to me is like a kiss from life itself.”

It could feel it's code becoming confused and tangled once more— was it disappointed at the answer? Or was it more so enraged at the way he was playing all its attempts off so easily?

It had been around, encaged and entrapping robloxians for centuries, were deities truly this hard to understand or was this one simply a different matter altogether?

“I dOn'T uNdErStAnD yOu.” 

Telamon’s eyes only crinkled up, floating higher and higher as if he imagined just where The Spectre could be— even if it was just a clump of code and power and all things negative and strong.

He stared at it, and it stares back, unable to divulge just what his countenance would mean rather from joy, gleeful, mocking, sadistic, or something else altogether.

“Then, why don’t we talk?” He tilted his head again, serious, even with the childish smile.

“Let’s get to know each other,” He outstretched his hand, acting like it possessed a physical form. “I wouldn’t mind being embraced by a cloud of code, I wouldn’t mind someone like you knowing the deepest, encroaching part of me, dear.” It was terrifyingly earnest, truthful, honest, it didn’t know whether to be flattered or disgusted.

His voice then dropped to a whisper, tone becoming almost sacred. “And if you reciprocate, then we can know each other for as much as much— as deep as you want.”

“Let me understand you.”

His tone was akin to reverence, yet far, far from it. “Just the two of us, encompassing beings, a saviour and a saved.” He hummed, voice soft, caring(?), something similar to the refreshing, yet familiar rushing stream, cold and saccharine.

And yet, it could feel his emotions, and they felt akin to the coiling of serpents, ready to offer you the fruits you were warned to not eat, or the danger you’d see at the spread of wildfire, yet it also tasted similar to the steel you’d find on a fresh, curated blade, and they weren’t malicious, he wasn’t dangerous, he was genuine, maybe it was that part that felt so, so off.

“Please, let me listen to you, let me talk to you.”

The silence stretched on for what felt like hours— before its voice resounded again, whispering at the edges of the void, and enveloping the presence like fog.

“YoU aRE iDiOTiC.” It snarled, fumes coming off the edges of its sentences, and yet there was a leak of something else, something it didn’t dare to prod.

“WhY dO yOu iNsIsT sO dEsPeRaTElY?” It asked again, and Telamon’s grin stretched wider at the prospect of his words being taken to light, accepted by it, even.

“Telamon is eager, truly.” His tone seemed melodic, careful, affectionate, and sickly.

He landed on the ground again, wings folding in on itself as he stared at the sky, imagining the Spectre was just right there, a being he couldn't comprehend but he knew very well.

“I’m a simple deity, learning, demanding, being free, and inciting chaos to wherever I land, to whichever the wind takes me.” He then paused.

“And you—?” He asks, but there was no answer expected from his tone, just a calm sort of patience, even when the silence started to stretch for a while.

It thinks, it wonders, just for a bit, it considers its words carefully, something it never had to do. And the only word that came to mind— it was not anger, hatred, fear or destruction.

“PoWeR.” It was a statement, it rang true.

Telamon’s smile stretches even wider.