Art of Ragnarok
Gods die, and when they truly die, they are unmourned and unremembered. Ideas are more difficult to kill than people, but they can be killed, in the end.
Neil Gaiman, American Gods
Prologue: January 2, 2017, shortly after the defeat of Yaldaoth
For the first time in what felt like eons, the Velvet Room was quiet, peaceful, and without a guest. Gone were the prison walls, the cell bars, the malevolent aura that the so-called-god had left behind, and Igor sat smiling distantly in his great chair, in the center of a lavish elevator, the way Lavenza was sure it had always been.
That had been a relief for maybe a first twenty minutes or so, but by now, Lavenza was bored. Progress, such it was, seemed to have stopped, and even if that meant a moment's peace of mind, it was a little disappointing.
Igor – the real Igor; placid, contemplative and disturbingly unperturbable – was quietly running long fingers over the Tarot cards, probably apprising himself of some far-future event that he wouldn't bother to share. His fortune telling skills, reflected Lavenza, were incredible, but his communication skills were sadly lacking.
"Perhaps it was only a matter of time before a new god inhabited the minds of the human race," he mused, "usurped their dreams, and therefore our humble home. Hmm… It may be no more than a matter of time before we face such a one again. I suppose we'll be prepared, this time."
That got Lavenza's attention. Was he talking about Yaldabaoth, the one they'd just barely managed to expel from the Velvet Room, or some new god that he'd found in the cards? Was she supposed to be worrying about the past, or the future, and were they, in fact, actually different things? The whole concept of time got blurry after long enough spent in the Velvet Room. How long had it been? Ten years? Twenty years? No, definitely not that long. At any rate, Igor was unsettled, for him, and that was definitely "fascinating" as he would say.
"Maybe this time," ventured Lavenza, "will be the last time. It was supposed to end years ago, anyway, right? I was supposed to be the last 'savior of humanity,' so why-?"
"It will never end at all," retorted Igor, shaking his head., "Such is the nature of gods and mortals, and so it has been since long before time as we know it began. There will always be those who wish for the comforting, oppressive yoke of a higher power, and so there will always be forces to toy with the weak-minded humans you've rather fruitlessly sworn to protect. Fate, in this case, or destiny, if you prefer it that way, are irreversible, because that, in truth, is what humanity really wants...but you remember all that, do you not? Yes…how could we forget?"
Lavenza hadn't forgotten at all. In fact, she remembered a lot of things. She remembered the time long ago, when she'd be a human student at Gekkoukan high school; the one tasked with saving the world, along with the help of her closest friends and teammates. She remembered her time as The Great Seal, sort of, although as The Seal, she hadn't been exactly what you'd call 'conscious' or, in fact, exactly what you'd call 'alive.' She hadn't so much seen anything as felt or understood it, and feeling and understanding the suffering and anger of humanity had been incredibly stressful and definitely depressing. It would have been enough to turn almost anybody into a career pessimist, but she wasn't just anybody.
She remembered the time after that, only just recently, when the old gods had died. Igor had never given her a clear answer as to what it meant that the gods had 'died.' When she questioned him about it, he only repeated, the same way each time, that such was the nature of mortals and immortals since time immemorial, and that it was the humans, in the end, who destroyed the deities of their own creation.
She remembered the day when she'd been summoned back from The Great Seal, had been told that she'd fulfilled her purpose and that now, she had a new role. It had been then that Igor had taken her soul and fused it with the remnants to create something new; a new body, a new resident of the Velvet Room. He'd told her she wasn't 'Minako' anymore, that she'd have to leave 'Minako' behind, and so Theodore, her new brother, and Margaret and Elizabeth, her new sisters, had given her a name name…Lavenza. Igor had explained to her that she had a new duty, was the subject of a new fate, and then…well, not long after that, Yaldabaoth had come, and then she'd briefly been two people, which had been really, really weird. Sometimes, she still remembered things from that time as though she'd seen it from two totally different perspectives, which was a very difficult thing to describe and which occasionally made her nauseous.
With strengthened powers from endless battles against the greatest darkness, he had become Lavenza just when humanity apparently needed her most, to guide its most recent hero of justice down the path to apparent salvation. She was tired, she was getting bored of changing forms of and of watching the same fight – humanity versus the powers of evil – over and over again, but she was also angry, and she was ready as hell. She'd gotten sick of watching the people she loved, she people she'd thought she'd saved, go through trials of fire and near-death close shaves over and over and over again, trying as hard as they could to win an unbeatable war. There were tons of them now, some from SEES, some from a new group that had managed not to screw up on it's own lofty fight for the salvation of the universe, and Minako/Lavenza was just aching to fight on their side.
Now, just maybe, with the arrival of Akira Kurusu on the scene, maybe it was time. He had impressed her; he'd even impressed Igor. He had skills, and he wasn't fooled by the black and white ideas of 'justice' that existed in The Velvet Room. He got things on a deeper level, and if anybody was going to actually beat the unbeatable odds, they were gonna need Akira in their corner.
On Igor's desk, a black cat uncurled, stretched, yawned, and then settled again. Lavenza reached over and scratched Hope behind the ears; he yowled under his breath and made a half-hearted swat at her. Hope hated having his head scratched, which only proved that he'd really gotten in touch with what it meant to be a cat; capricious and ornery most of the time. He seemed to like that form, now that he'd spent so much time in the human world. Lavenza figured it wouldn't be long before he'd sneak out and return to his humans, especially since he was still pining after a girl, there. She couldn't blame him.
Lavenza would have killed, would have done anything to get her own old, human form back, but for her, that wasn't an option.
Instead, while Igor quietly read the future, she sat stroking humanity's Hope and dreaming fiercely of revolution.
DISCLAIMER: Please note; the following story will contain tasteful references to heterosexuality, homosexuality, bisexuality, asexuality, and strong platonic bonds that are in no way romantic at all. It will contain the potential for major character death, major characters turning out to be, in fact, other major characters in disguise/different form. This is a non-canon story that takes place in the P3P FemProtagonist universe, as well as the Persona Golden Epilogue universe, and therefore backstories, events, character relationships and development which took place in Persona Arena and/or Persona Q may or may not be applicable.
You have been warned!
