Taiga Transformation RP

Taiga stands before the judging ray of a celestial body. He is brought before it and forced underneath its radiance, the moment the machine turns on - he is judged. By the invisible hand of fate that weaves through all lives, by divine chance he is measured on a scale untold. The vastness of the universe held within it an almost infinite capacity for failure, for tragedy, for destruction unseen to sweep through at any moment and snatch away hopes and dreams. The capacity the world had for cruelty was unimaginable. There had been others. Of course there had been others who had sought to free themselves of this cursed existence. But none before him was willing to bathe in this light and be judged. Not on morality, not on accomplishments, but to stare the fate that had been thrust upon him in the eyes and refuse. To be judged on his will. His ambition. Judged on his fear - and how might it drive him to shirk from this light. As Taiga is given every chance to flee from this judgement... he refuses.

It slams into his chest, this mixture of cosmic and divine. It sings to him, these beams of light dancing across his eyes in a wondrous pattern that could unfold in a million different ways. The same reflection he had caught so many times before, the look of himself glittering in a thousand different angles brought to bare before his eyes. Only now he was not at the edge of a crystal blade, nor standing in front of a mirror - he was refracted and distorted by a piece of divine magic. The slackjaw awe of his expression shown to him now as he sat there, eye squinted in reflexive shirking. When put before the light of the divine, it was instinct in all man to cower. To get upon his hands and knees and prostate before it. Some part of his brain fair removed from his life, driven into his genes long ago by his ancestors - evolution itself screaming at him to pray.

So he prays. A wordless, godless prayer as this light overtakes his form.

Then he feels it surge through him, reaching beyond the skin to touch upon something far beneath the surface. The blood that ran through him. The gift that Salvas Voss had entrusted into him so many years ago -- and just as the light judged him, it now judges this gift. His mind is shot back, coherent thought escaping him as he clings to the memories of the past for some semblance of guidance as his nerves begin to work themselves into a frenzy. His circuitry completely flooded in a matter of seconds, it calls out in remembrance. The promises he had made. The pledges and restrictions placed upon him as a samurai. The obedient boy had become rebellious to the very nature of his existence. His transformation is found to be lacking - too subservient to the whims of the master.

At one point in his life, perhaps the fate of a Vampire fit him. To follow in the path of his father through and through. But no. The will he had forged - the light judges - is one of rebellion. Upheaval. Truth. It sees through the lies of the man and down to the truth of the soul, as it burns through his system, it gives him the tools to bring life anew to his system. It grants unto him what he so desperately wished for so long. To shatters the chains of fate themselves and bend them to his will.

It grants him this, and nothing more.

He glows, body still and tense as he silently screams out, the light flooding from every point in his body as the final rays of it trickle down onto him. His body is numb. There is no feeling to describe, no pain that he might speak of in pride for having survived, no pleasure that he might revel and yearn to return to - there is only a numbness that sweeps through the entirety of his body. His perception of time is completely lost to him, he doesn't know how long he's been sitting in this chair. Or when he got here. Or when he'd leave.

But as Taiga Voss sizzles in that chair, one blinding thought shoots through his mind before anything else.

I can see.

The light had granted him sight. It had shown him the path. Though his eyes remain lid shut.

And so he wordlessly rises, his body still smoking as he pushes himself up and out of that chair. He stands to his feet, straight and narrow, with the same impeccable posture that had guided him here. His arms fan out by his side as he takes the pose of the messiah, fingers spread wide.

Those eyes open; and as they do a new light floods the room. From the moment Taiga's eyelashes part, a thin strip of crimson red light beams out from them, overpowering even Calael's cosmic glow. It washes over everything, the metal eyepatch used to cover his missing eye dropping to the ground as it's pushed back. What remained of the divine light that had entered his body now storms out of him, filtered through his bright red eyes and blasting out. So just as Taiga cowered and prayed -- so too would those present here now be forced to do the same.

Shadows take to him. From his back sprouts those blackened wings of rebellion, a pure twilight molded and shaped into a perfect formation of massive wings. In the likeness of the majestic beasts he aspired towards, Taiga now takes from them their most beautiful trait and forges it in such perfect mimicry they look as though they had belonged there all along. Each individual feather so finely curved and detailed, their shape and density seemingly undeniable, though they exist only as shade. It's a perfect dark.

The last beams of crimson light flicker out, streaming into thin lasers of fading stardust -- and as they look into his re-forged vision, they can still see those faint trickles of light floating around in his eye. Like a tiny constellation forged within his iris, his shade a deep crimson intermingled with oranges and bright scarlet.

He is wordless. He is whole. He is finally perfect.
(Taiga Voss)