Originally Posted by
grampagen
“Be that as it may, your paths and ours are intertwined. Here and now, neither of you has the right to sequester yourself from your duty, nor the time to fight one another.”
To Ishtar, with a nod, he spoke first.
“Whether Black Fire or the flowing course of things, it matters little,” he said. “The intent has not changed, only the means of enacting it. In the face of entropy and destruction, we may yet need a Creator to mend what would be lost."
He waited a moment for his perhaps vain words to sink in before he turned Asha'rah.
“The monks of Kame-shima were content to shed their tethers to the world as well; that is, until they grew hungry,” Ochazuke said. “It seems as if you chose your friend's path and made his fate for him. That you could bear to answer another you called friend with such magnanimous betrayal, but not burden yourself to strive for Ishtar for the sake of some godly ethos...cheh.”
He took a step forward, aligning a third point adjacent to the two.
“Godliness. The Destroyer, Hammer, was not born into his godhood. It was gifted to him, a Namek mortal with great appetites and lack of scruples.” Ochazuke continued. “What then is the distinction between god and an ascended mortal? A gift you say has been stolen. That you have shown us, can be taken."
"So what then makes a god? Is it enlightened vision? Or is it merely a question of who holds the power? Rising up on the backs of others has resulted in nothing but an outpouring of more who aspire to do the same, to call themselves the new zenith of things. And that is the problem with our current predicament. The both of you strive toward any matter besides that which would require you to hear each other. One hand strives to cut the other at the wrist to spite the already fractured balance. But tell me, who is it that suffers while the gods quarrel?”
Even now, the grave of a planet that buried the deposed god was fresh in his memory.
The wild man, clothed in flesh sheathing the broken armour of Time itself finally found a moment. There on the Lookout plaza, between god and goddesses, Ochazuke found himself standing a few paces short of each.
Casting his glance between one to the next, despite the energy diminished much in the way of the familiar living ki, there was an undeniable energy rendered there in silence, more primordial essences cast against the fabric of his very being, against which he found his breath staggering, and a cold sweat dewing at his temples. In spite of himself, he simply found it difficult to move. His leaned forward toward Zurvan then, and though the martial artist struck up no stance, he was very visibly guarded.
“Only an inquiry beset by haste and in words inadequately suited to passions,” he managed to speak, though the words flew tight from his throat. “One of many possible courses, one supposes. And many possible truths, depending on what is heard.”
He inhaled air slowly, carried it to still the chilled blood that streamed through the vessels of his scarred heart.
“Is this the eventual course for those who bear the mantle of Destroyer and of Creator? If it is indeed all for nothing and whim to fitful disagreement, then perhaps you might see it would be best we stand aside and let them sort it out. For they are the worthy.”