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Mohatmas

Not but a ghost among the crowd.

0 · 572 views · located in The Bluff

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Moonscar

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So begins...

Mohatmas's Story

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A flicker would be seen...no. It would be felt. Small, at first...and then it would grow bigger, like a raging fire...or a wave! Magic...wafting within the air, crawling on the ground, inching it's way up the dragon's feet and moving under his scales like little spiders turned wisps.
"What is it..." came a whisper...not male, not female, not even a real voice. It was more of a longing. Something Ichiro wanted...
If he opened his eyes, the thing he longed for the most...

It was there.

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The scene would waver around Ichiro, entwining him and working to transfix him into a deep belief...a sort of trust. His mate, Zeilia, would move over to him, move past him. Oh, how her body would feel so real...how the memories with her would attempt to push themselves into his mind! Even the hatching would fly out of his humanoid form's arms and over to him.

That voice again...

"This is...what you want..."

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As Toothless, the Night Fury, came into the picture, the illusion around Ichiro would crack, shatter...then fade. Zeilia became smoke, the hatchling diminished into grass, and Ichiro's human form...if he glanced back up to it, he would see it was no longer there.
Dark clouds would cover the once bright sky, snuffing the sun out.

"What you fear."

A portion of the clouds would drip down, the same as a drop of water on a faucet, and take form as they came towards the dragons, forming into their worst nightmare.

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Mohatmas would pull apart its consciousness, one close to Toothless, another to Ichiro. It examined them throughly, taking in their reactions, the little twitches their body made, the tenseness in their muscles. Even Toothless, who seemed drunk as a duck, was showing interesting signs.

It was then that Mohatmas decided to take form. Not as a human, as one might expect, or even as the ethereal being it was, but as a young dragon, female, with dowdy grey scales and wings that complimented the patterns of a moth; two large, orange eyes staring down at the dragons, Mohatmas' toothed head veering at them in between.

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The mothlike dragon landed with a mighty quake, the ground breaking beneath its claws. It turned its head toward the other two dragons, staring at them with white pupils. The dragon was blind, unused to sight, as was the spirit. Mohatmas felt the things around it, knew it was there, but never saw, never tasted...never heard the delightful sounds besides the wonderful illusions that others conjured up with their own minds.

As Toothless made its way toward Ichiro, the apparitions would all turn in unison to stare. When the dragon cried out, they would all veer a him with those same empty, white eyes.
On a whim, they began to dissolve, turning into grains of sand that blew in an imaginary wind, joining with the grey dragon in the distance.

"Complete."

The setting changes from the-hidden-glen to Gambit's Bar

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There was barely any stirring life along Terra that morning, where the sun rose and spilled crimson along Wing City, flooding the streets and kissing rooftops. A tender breeze brushed the walls of a particular establishment...none other than Gambits bar. The breeze stirred once more, then gradually amassed into a gust, knocking open the bar doors with a crashing boom.
However, the only thing to enter would be a singular leaf, floating just above the floor and landing underneath a chair.

A single word echoed throughout Gambits:

"Bliss."

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A quiet from the previous ruckus the apparition had made would follow, the only sound the dull chit-chat within the bar, the clanking of glasses, the click of Oliver's cane.
Suddenly, the breeze rose up again, bringing the leaf from under the chair and sweeping it into the air, momentarily hanging over the heads of Demi and Rafe. "What secrets..." came a voice, and it would echo within their ears as a barely audible whisper. "...what loves."
The leaf would hover away, this time landing at the feat of Bug, Oliver and Casey. The girl, strung up on drugs, might have felt the rub of soft fingers upon her cheek, but floated away like a dream. Oliver might have found Timo sitting at the corner of her eye, but if he looked back, there would only be an empty chair.
Casey? He might of felt the caress of someone long gone and dear, but it would feel empty...strange.

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"The ties that only I can see, the knots that form between them...what can snap them? Thicken them? Loosten or pull them apart...string by string? String by string..."
It was a chant, a little sing that silently danced along the bar. One might not notice or would hear it too loudly depending on the strength of their desires, the length of their longing.

In a corner booth, a grey figure sat, a chin leaned upon clasped hands and skin as dull as the rest of them. They hadn't simply appeared or had even come in and sat themselves. No...it was more that the figure was suddenly there, and was probably always there.

The only real oddity about the gaunt, grey thing was its eyes. They were white. Pure white and blind.

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The grey figure would lift their heads, sit straight, and shift within the seat. A calling...a calling for some other place. It was there, pulling at them.
Like a dream, the figure was no more, and neither were the apparitions or the illusions.
It was as if it were always so.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Dark Woods

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The mothlike dragon paused for the longest second, as if considering the dragon-turned-human, then slowly ambled over to him, large footsteps echoing throughout the woods. Before Mohatmas became too close, the spirit dissipated into mist, which would come to float around Ichiros, coming together behind the man as a woman in grey, just as tall as the brawler-mage, wearing a long, ghostlike dress in a Victorian fashion, her eyes just as white as the dragons had been.

"What anger..." she would whisper, voice eerie. "What fiery emotion."

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The Dream Spirit's head turned, staring just past Ichiro, as if trying to find his face, but failing to do so in her blindness. "What do I want?" She croaked, taking her skirts in her hands and cantering around him.

"What do I want?" Her voice became much softer this time, as if recalling a distant memory. "Why, I want you. Your memories...your emotions!" The apparition attempted to walk closely to him, to plant her hand on his cheek, only to slide it down and grasp his chin.

"What is it you want? Right now?"

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There was a long pause. The apparition leaned her head to the side, confused. Her blind eyes kept staring right past Ichiro, her expression blank and unnerving.
"Peace of mind..." she whispered, and yet again the scene would change. Her whole body would burst, disappear into sand. The dark clouds would lift and the sun would beat down upon the grass once more, strong and healthy.

Steps away, the woman sat in the grass, her whole grey form slowly assuming color. However, her eyes lay as white as ever. "Your desires are strong, dragon."

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Seeing as the dragonman had decided not to join her, as she might have thought he wold have, Mohatmas decided...another illusion wouldn't hurt.
Not this one.
But before that, the apparition appeared closer to Ichiro once more. "You are...a host. Or a parasite? I sense a symbiote."

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"An equal? A dragon? Seeing them equal with a human?" Questioned Mohatmas, rubbing their fingers together in an anxious manner. They looked out into the trees, contemplating, it seemed. "That is blasphemy! Dragons are proud creatures!"
To illustrate, the flapping of dozens of wings would fill the air, and out from the horizon would soar countless dragons, blotting out the sky, in every shape, size, and variation. Roars echoed throughout the valley.

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"Do not question? I beg to differ, thing, as questioning it only helps one to come in better understanding of it!" Mohatmas hissed, the womans teeth coming together tightly. Her image distorted, quickly becoming that of Ichiro's visage, but her eyes remained with the blindness.

"How did this come to happen? What made you want such a thing, hm?" The spirit questioned in Ichiro's voice.

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The dragons that flew above them came to circle over their heads, like a tornado of bodies all put together. One dragon, about the size of a large dog, came right down to their level, fire stirring within its throat. "Stronger...is that one of your desires?"
Suddenly, the sight of a conquering Ichiro would arise, leading armies down a battlefield.
"Or perhaps...something different?"
The scene would change, something more to the dragons liking. However, the tornado of dragons above would not stir.

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The image of Mohatmas would of seemed to disappear, and Ichiro in place of the more powerful him that he saw on the hilltop. Still, the dragons did not disappear, though the ones below did not seem to notice. "What does this mean, Ichiro?" Zeilia would say, the voice strangely monotone.

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"Don't you catch on quickly?" Came Zeila's voice again, the dragons head turning to face Ichiro. Well, what would you expect in this situation? Of course her pupils weren't there. "It offends you. Not only that, you are angered. I can feel it- oh! It feels alive! It feels like breathing!"
Zeila's wings would snap open, and if Ichiro looked close...the flicker of pupil might have been seen.

"Amusing, it is.'

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"Oh? Their pain? You are not so observant, Ichiro! I thought you might be better than that!" The illusion howled, leaping up and bouncing about in absolute glee. "You are humble, are you not? You do not even demand such power as others do! What a pure spirit! Indeed, you must be the one!" Cried the imitation Zeilia.

Out in the distance, a red dot would appear, running along in the grass at a hurried pace. It wasn't an animal...more humanlike, wearing a long red gown.
Mohatmas seemed not to notice it.

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The red figure advanced even more toward Ichiro's and Mohatmas' location, never stopping to rest. It was very persistent.

"Wouldn't you like to know, hmm?" Jeered the apparition, Zeilia edging ever closer to Ichiro. The dragons above them swirled faster, more frenzied.
With her maw open, jaws salivating, the dragon looked hungry. "One without such greed...I must have it! Your soul, your desires!"
Charging now, figure changing back into that dreadful, grey moth dragon.

However...before it could get to Ichiro, a loud voice would ring out into the woods, echoing throughout the space.
"Break!"
The illusion around Ichiro, the dragons above, the ones below, Zeilia, and his own form, would disappear, turning into a mistlike substance. A horrid scream would be heard, as if the life were being drained out of something.
"Come, Mohatmas!" Came the voice again. If Ichiro looked toward it, he would see a young woman in red, one he had met long before. Her hand was outstretched, a clear bottle laying within it.The mist around them shifted, then swiftly began to swirl into the bottle, complaints in abundance.

The setting changes from dark-woods to Gambit's Bar

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Would you find it odd, the simple thought of a dream needing to rest? Even a nightmare that felt worn, dragged out far too long across an endless road. Honestly, now, if it went on for an eternity, it wouldn't hurt but to take a break here and there? It was logic. Pure and untainted, selfish logic.
Even spirits became weary.

Mohatmas sat in a far, far corner, feeding from the sudden violence of a hemophiliac , the grotesque fascination of a photographer, the butler's insulting worry, and the Japanese woman's vain thirst. What a mixture of sin tonight, all swirling around the room. The spirit could see them, and not one prejudiced thought could even pass their mind.

Today, the spirit materialized themselves as a rather fat, grizzly old man, bent over a table and hounding over an empty plate of food. Shadows danced across his form, obscuring his face, where only blind white pupils were apparent.

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The beefy man in the corner seemed to sink into the wall, almost, rolls collapsing against one another, his body shaping with the surface. He did not need to turn his head to understand what was going on; it was no use in his blindness anyway. No, Mohatmas simply knew the happenings. He could feel them, taste them in the air, the same way a cockroach slithered its antennae along the ground.

At Oliver's blunt comment to the young, murderous lady, the man chuckled, his fat jiggling in the movement. Then, at Garvus, who scoffed and complained everywhere, he laughed, the bellow causing him to rock in his seat. He digressed slowly, shrinking back into the shadows.

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"Death can cause you to be a burden. Life can lift it," the large, shady man said, speaking up at last. His voice was gravely and low, like the wheels of a car rolling over a gravel parking lot. "People like to elate themselves by being important. It has never failed. Not once. It is true for every human being, and those vaguely associated with them." He said, though it came out as many mutters. The man did something surprising, then. He slid from his seat, and on grubby, short legs did he waddle over to the pair.

"You-" he said to the Japanese woman, planning to clap her shoulders with his fat, sweaty hands. "You think looking pretty and killing is just everything in the world, don't you? An yet there's more." He said, laughing in her ear, spittle flying. He would then move away, to Oliver. "And you have no room to speak. You've just beaten a man to a bloody mess on the floor. You're just a worthless, sick kid like the rest of 'em. Ah?" A laugh again as the man attempted to playfully knuckle the boy across the face.

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"Of course not, sonny, or am I?" The man said, spreading his arms wide, as if in surrender for the hit, his white eyes staring right past the boy. "What is truly human here? Why does that seem to be the norm? Human is sin, boy, and that is what I am. You may say I am the most human thing here."

Within seconds, the blubber on the man seemed to simply vanish, shrinking into his body. Hair grew out, and wrinkles and facial hair shrank away. He became seemly, much skinnier, even handsome. He became Lucas. All for his eyes.

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Today such an intensely interesting crowd had come. Yes, it was only a few, but where two was company, three was a crowd. And in an multiversal bar, the man of Death, a Russian lad from the second World War of earth, and half-demon was nothing too uncommon. However, it caught the eye of the Weaver, and it had decided to drop by for a visit.

Here came Mohatmas, within the form of sin, not blessing. A man so grotesquely obese barely squeezed through the door, the large fat of his stomach sliding by the wood of the entrance. He was unkempt, unshaven, and uncared for. His lips were overflowing with grease, and his eyes were covered in white, possibly blindness. Despite this, he walked around the bar as if he could see perfectly.

In walked the Gluttonous Cause.