God of Marriage Saga: Chapter 0
Imported from SF2 with no description.
Then let's try this, I thought.
"Who is the God of Marriage?" Aerith asked.
Di Xin. The emperor who courted the nine-tailed fox. They're post-posthumously recognized as such.
Aerith nodded. "In memory, where they belong."
_ I will... never be a memory. _
That familiar voice echoed.
... He's still at it, then. Or she. Or it.
The conundrum: If people are constantly working to break down the boundaries of conventions and contracts... agreements, pacts... fundamentally, we have a problem with union, don't we?
Aerith nodded curtly. "With marriage. You've got the idea right."
...I paused, mortified.
It was a really heavy topic, for anyone to discuss, let alone try and write a story about.
"But you've got the chops for it, right?" came a cockney voice.
I squinted. Tracer? I wondered. But it wasn't, exactly. I was seeing someone who looked like Tracer, but the problem was, she wasn't... human. Or... was a six-foot tall, naked hyena-person a human?
No, wait, stop it, Me. Not every reader I have is going to know who Tracer is... I have to make an introduction, don't I?
...it wasn't fair to rely on everyone to care or know about Overwatch.
Aerith interjected. "But they don't necessarily have to know that much about any of us, to get to know us, right?"
That was the trouble... what was I even doing, that some games and advertisements couldn't achieve, without me?
NO. WRONG ATTITUDE, ME.
I shook off the suicidal thought, along with the grasp of whatever enemy had laid it there, cognitive or concrete.
Here in a nutshell was the problem: I was trying to restore something that had broken. An improper relationship between author and creation had to be sorted out, right?
Aerith muttered: "Well, at least he's not letting me try and narrate, now."
... but Aerith was still 'aware' of my narration. Was it... was it okay to blind her to that?
Aerith: "I'd never considered that I could be a character in a script, or in a game."
No, no, that's entirely wrong. Narratives do not suddenly interject into script playlines.
...my body had grown accustomed to narrating in the "wrong" way. I had to discipline myself to set this right.
Aerith choked back a giggle. "Do you really think it's--"
Him at work, confusing things? I interrupted.
...in a way, it was. An ultimate reunion of timelines and possibilities, would probably confuse writers.
If we're going about breaking every convention and turning the fourth wall into some kind of crazed zoetrope, that seems like something that's inevitably going to backfire on our own minds.
That seemed like something that a villain like Sephiroth, would want.
So I made the pact with myself, and whoever would accept it, then and there...
"We do not go for this false reunion."
...and that whole agreement... whoever made it... whoever made it with me... what was a 'false' reunion, anyway?
Aerith: "One built on rape, right?"
No, no, stop it, stop, it, Aerith. Please. I concede your proposal, but, please, you have to at least 'pretend' you're not...
Aerith: "Not what? Not here, having the conversation?"
Who was she talking to? I was struggling to remember.
I struggled to put the narrative back in the proper context.
This is a union of idea and storyteller. Just... remember how you used to write...
The struggle for sanity... for cohesive narrative, and believable plot twists... began.