Emet-Selch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unnecessaryflourishes) wrote2020-08-21 11:32 pm
unnecessaryflourishes) wrote2020-08-21 11:32 pm
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[The forests of Rak'tika are never particularly loud, by most standards. Oh, there are the various noises of the creatures living there, but the vast majority of the inhabitants tend to not stray too far from their relative villages and - provided one knows where to go to avoid the usual paths - it's a perfect suitable place to take a nap. As such, it should perhaps come as no surprise that's exactly what he's done. Simply settled in against the trunk of a suitable tree and let himself drift away.
As such, he is quite unaware of the fact that between one moment and the next he's not the only individual from another world present in the forest. Instead, he sleeps on, quite unaware of anything else going on.]
As such, he is quite unaware of the fact that between one moment and the next he's not the only individual from another world present in the forest. Instead, he sleeps on, quite unaware of anything else going on.]
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[It would explain the difference in how the world sounds too, though he wouldn't have called the First loud. Not with most of its aether trending towards Light. Towards stagnation, as it should be.
(He is, perhaps, more used to tuning out the calls of the trees, but still. That alone isn't enough to hold a candle to anything he remembers.)
He's about to open his mouth to start explaining more about the shards, about the name he and his (and those scattered others who have been privileged enough to cross the rift) describe this one by when she speaks again. And that... that catches his interest. Those gifted with the ability to see aether, to feel the Lifestream itself... those are vanishingly few. Fewer still, for her to be considering herself to be something other than a mere mortal, and something in him twinges, even as the rest of his mind starts putting together the pieces of what shard she belongs to. Aches for the possibility that someone might remember, that someone might understand, even though he knows its all but an impossibility. None of the sundered he's ever spoken to have truly remembered Amaurot, much though he might wish otherwise.]
Fools!
[The word is all but snapped out, a show of anger quite unlike the casual patience he'd shown before. It lingers, too, coloring his words when he next speaks, though they come out more tense and annoyed than anything.]
The ability to see into the Lifestream is not something that can merely be granted. Nor can it be so easily transferred from one to another. And for what good? To pull the aether away from the very world would be to destroy it. To invite ruin, not some ill-begotten riches.
[A pause, and he almost visibly collects himself, taking a moment to pull back nearer to how he'd presented himself before letting his emotions get the better of him.]
Needless to say, I don't think very much of these scientists of yours. Hardly even worthy of the position, I should think.
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[For a moment she seams ready to ask more questions but the outburst certainly catches her off guard, hugging the serpent tight enough that it squeaks in dismay. Watching him in wide-eyed surprise, she finds herself almost impressed. She'd been so certain he'd have just brushed her words aside and ignored them completely.
But it's when she realizes it's because he knows that her face lights up again. Relief and excitement thrumming through her.]
Exactly! That's what we kept telling them but they just wanted to get rich! It was so... [The excitement fades as her gaze falls, a soft laugh huffing out of her as she shakes her head.] It's all so silly, looking back. The land around the city was dead for miles, nothing grew except a couple places, but that didn't stop them. Took a meteor dropping on the city and me using holy and the Lifestream to stop that.
[At the last she laughs, bright and loud enough that she hastily claps a hand over her mouth and peers around as if expecting to get pounced.]
Trust me, I wanted nothing to do with him or any of his goons. They were the last people I'd want to be locked in a room with, I rather they weren't my anything.
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[Space exists, certainly. But it's a far cry from the rift itself. Still, the fact that she jumps first to space helps him to finally - finally - pin down which shard she's come from. Especially as she continues on - there's only one shard where any sort of meteor had been involved in their plans. The Seventh, but recently rejoined through a very much intentional echo of that same starfall.
How and why she's only just now emerging from the Lifestream when that particular Rejoining was several years ago by the reckoning of the Source is... something he's less certain of. But he's never made any significant attempt to even see if time should happen to pass while immersed in Lifestream. (It could, also, be an artifact of time passing differently between the shards. But either way it's not something he needs to know immediately, and so he tucks the thought away for later.)
He also figures that it's probably best to not mention that he knows at least some of the players behind that all-consuming desire for more. If not the details. He had rather been busy masterminding the creation of an entire empire, after all.]
You would think they'd have learned. Or cared to have looked.
[Not that he's surprised they hadn't. Greed is one of the easier emotions to work with, and from what little she's offered it sounds like there'd been no shortage of that to work with.]
Oh, believe me, I wouldn't want to either. [Though his reaction would likely have been more... dramatic, had he been in a similar position.] Still, they aren't here. You are.
[Be it for good or ill, she's left labs, goons, and scientists behind. Along with everything else she might have known besides, but there's not much Emet can do about that.]
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[A broad generalization but not entirely incorrect. Aerith simply shrugged, waving a hand before she stooped to let the serpent go with an apologetic pat to its head. Even with it screeing in disappointment at being put down only had her laughing and shaking her head at it.]
No, no! You need the exercise just as much as I do, don't pout. You're heavy and my arms are tired, I haven't used them in years! I can't just carry you everywhere you know, sacred beast or not. Besides, you don't go asking anyone else to carry you, now do you.
[Tsking softly, she shakes her head at the serpent again before brushing her wild hair out of her face, tucking a wet curl behind her ear as she looks up at him. The amusement that had brightened her expression when talking to the serpent was fading fast, dark shadows haunting her gaze as she waved a hand, her bracelets chiming noisily with the gesture.]
I'd be shocked if they did show up, since I made sure Hojo was gone when he died. He's not coming back in any form other than in pieces too small to hurt anyone again.
[There's something dark in her expression, but it disappears almost immediately behind a smile and an arched eyebrow.]
So, what's the rift then if it isn't space? I'll take a guess you're not a Cetra even if you feel a little like one, but you know how to work the Lifestream and it sure sounds like you can feel it better than I can.
[She pauses, her lips pursing, and it's then that the mischievous gleam seems to spark again in her eyes.]
But it looks like I got a little excited and forgot my manners. Does the tall mysterious stranger whose nap I interrupted have a name he'd like me to call him or do I get to come up with a nickname instead? I'm Aerith.
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[People will ever be people, regardless of what else should happen. And even if it is a broad generalization, that doesn't make it any less true in the long run.
Still, it's the fact that she openly admits to having willingly - and deliberately - interfered with the natural cycle of souls that catches his attention. The concept is hardly one that he'd consider to be beyond all possibility, but it's certainly not something that just anyone could manage to pick up. Even despite - apparently - spending some time in the Lifestream. Still, there's a familiarity there. One that has him taking another look at her soul, as she continues on. Really looking this time, past the still-lingering overtones of the Lifestream, through to the soul itself... and what he finds might have almost had him laughing if it weren't also exactly the sort of thing he might have expected. Of course Hythlodaeus would follow in Azem's footsteps. Of course. Even when neither of them remembered who they were.]
We didn't call ourselves Cetra, no. Either in the past or now. But I'm hardly about to explain the finer details of how the rift works in the middle of a swamp.
[Both because it's a long explanation - longer, if she should happen to want to ask any sort of questions - and because there's only so long he can stand to remain under the Light-filled skies. Even shaded as they are by the trees.
On the other hand, the realization of who she is, or rather was, means there's only a brief moment of gentle side-eye at her comment about him having be napping, before he continues on.]
Emet-Selch. And under the circumstances, I'd be willing to forgive you a momentary lapse of manners. It's hardly every day one ends up being dragged out of the Lifestream. Or pushed out of it, perhaps.
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[She pauses, her words trailing off into silence, brows pinching as her head tilts and her eyes go unfocused.]
The architect...?
[The words are almost a whisper. For a moment she has to stop, rubbing her forehead as she hears laughter. A gentle sort; playful teasing. Flashes and pieces that were all jumbled up as they flitted past before she could pull them closer and examine them properly.
Congratulations on the seat, my friend! When are you going to tell them?
No, no, I hardly want that sort of appointment. Can you imagine me behind a desk all day? No, thank you.
He's still talking. She hears him like he's in another room and has to struggle to pull herself away from these new thoughts and voices. He'd already caught her listening to him once before, she doubted he'd take it well if he caught her at it twice.
...They were his memories, weren't they? Yet it felt different than when she listened to others, her hand falling away as she forced herself to focus on his face.]
Well, I'll admit it's a first for me. But I wish it hadn't been out of a lake of all things. Brings back some poor memories if the forest hadn't been so loud about it. The trees back home sure didn't sing at people like this...
But I won't complain as long as wherever we're going has towels or a hair dryer.
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Of course, the fact that he is familiar with the Echo also means that he doesn't so much as bat an eye at the fact that she seems to not be paying him much mind. And they are his memories, most of them. Just a very specific subset of memories, but to the fore more strongly by the realization that she shares a soul with someone he knew, once. On the other hand, whatever she's seen, she doesn't seem to be particularly inclined to address it and that works just fine by him.]
The technology of Norvrandt is somewhat lacking. [No hair dryers here, alas.] But towels should be simple enough. However, as it would be quite the walk back, otherwise....
[There's a pause, as much for dramatic effect as anything, and then he snaps his fingers; the only outward indication that he's doing anything at all before teleporting the two of them straight to the Crystarium. Or rather, to the Ocular. Mere adventurers might be bound by the necessity of teleporting from aetheryte to aetheryte. But he's no mere adventurer, to be bound so.
Besides, he doesn't much care to bother with the general populace of the Crystarium, if he doesn't have to.]
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A hand moves to grip his sleeve, the fur trim of his coat, anything for something to ground her as her head reels.]
Oh, wow. Ohhh, boy that was different.
[One breath, two. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply as she listens. The faint drip of her hair and dress, the sound of her pounding heart but steady breathing. The ring of light that has been replaced by a softer song; one of hopeful nostalgia that makes her long for something lost that she's not sure of. Feeling the coolness of the air around them, the way the room hums with new and old magic. When she opens her eyes again she stares up at the ceiling and the gilded star map on the floor, taking in everything at once.]
Okay, I don't know what you just did but that was really something. Sure would make getting places way easier...
[Still, the star map... She frowns, her gaze drawn to the starlike circle, and the others on the outer ring. Why does it feel important? With a hum, her nose wrinkles, and she lets that lie for the moment as she glances back to Emet.]
Well, I will say it's very pretty. Someone enjoys putting on a show, I take it?
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That was rather the point. Admittedly, not everyone is capable of learning the spell, much less traversing the aetherial streams in such a manner. But for those who can it's very nearly considered one of the basics.
Although its use is not quite so ubiquitous across all the shards, I'll grant you.
[As would be explained by her lack of familiarity with the spell, even if his comment offers yet another fragment of something unfamiliar that he's offered up as if it's nothing more than perfectly ordinary.]
As to the overall appearance, the original creator of this tower has been dead for several thousand years. But the current inhabitant does rather enjoy such things, yes.
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[She looks up at him through a damp tangle of hair with an arched brow.]
How far exactly did we just travel, again? and you're telling me that here that's beginner magic? I really did miss out, didn't I? I wonder if that kinda thing was common before the Calamity...
[She hums softly, though she does let out a quiet and rather unladylike snort.]
And here I thought this was your place, you sure look like the type that loves dramatic flare and the fancier things. I hope they don't mind me dripping all over their living room.
[She was idly gazing off again, lost in the murmur of the crystal around them before his words finally sink in and draw her up short.]
Shards? What do you mean, shards?
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[He's already been availing himself of the Exarch's hospitality, dubiously offered as it is. A little more can't hurt, and in any case, he knows feel well that a little water isn't going to be enough to damage the floor, be it here or anywhere in the tower.
(That said, she isn't wrong to peg him as being one for dramatic flare and the fancier things in life. He's just not going to admit to it.)
The question of how far, on the other hand, has him snapping his fingers yet again, and this time a glowing map of Norvrandt appears in the air between them.]
Rak'tika is located here. [He points to the relevant part of the map as he speaks.] The Crystarium, and by association this tower, are here.
[It's... a not inconsiderable distance.]
However, to travel as we did involves entrusting oneself to the Lifestream. And usually requires an aetherial beacon as a signpost, lest one become permanently lost and never reach one's destination.
[He notes, too, her mention of a Calamity; while he doubts it holds the same meaning for her that it would on the Source it's nonetheless worth putting a mental pin in, in case he needs to refer back to it later.]
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You showoff!
[The playful ribbing comes with a light swat to the arm, her grin unfading as she holds her hair back from her face as she peers at the map.]
I guess it makes sense if you can't feel the flow of the Lifestream otherwise. Wow, that's days of travel, isn't it? I'm just mad I didn't know how to do this on Gaia, I could've gone anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted...
[Her grin fades, and for a moment there's a bittersweetness about her before she lets it go.]
Oh well, it's a bit too late to be upset over spilt milk at this point. I figure as soon as I sort out how you did it I could do that just fine. ...Then again it'd probably help if I actually knew where I was trying to go.
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(After all, that much at least is partially on purpose.)]
Long days of travel, yes. And ones with precious little of interest in between.
[It may be more so to her than to him, given that she is still such a newcomer to the First. But even so, he doesn't mean to suffer the presence of the Light that much if it can be at all avoided.]
But yes, it does help to have an idea of where one is going - most people would first take a chocobo to their destination and then attune themselves to the local beacon, if one exists. [Pause.] Or an amaro, as I believe is more common, here.
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[She scoffs, shaking her head as she peers up at him.]
Maybe to you, perhaps. I spent my whole life under metal plating and a cloud of smog, it'd probably be incredibly interesting. Gaia didn't have forests like that back home, so what else is out there for exploring?
Then again all that light makes you a little queasy doesn't it? It's enough to give anybody a headache with the way it rings like that. [Her nose wrinkles a little.] It's not like that everywhere on this planet, is it? How do any of the plants and animals survive without night?
Oh, that makes sense! It's a lot easier with chocobos isn't it? I wonder how easy it is to get a black chocobo...Wait, what's an amaro?
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[It would seem that someone doesn't exactly have the patience for an endless barrage of questions. There's a reason he'd waited until after the Warrior of Light had become acquainted with the basics of life as it is on the First to make his appearance, after all. And not all of it had been coming up with suitable plans for how to deal with the situation.
Still, a question is a question, much though he might be running out of patience.
There's no snap this time. Instead, the image simply changes, from a map to a creature that looks loosely like a chocobo might, were chocobos to lean a little more draconic.]
There. An amaro.
[No sense of scale is provided with the illusion, but presumably it's similar in scale to a chocobo, given the implication that they're beasts of burden.]
And it is like that everywhere. No one here has so much as seen the night sky in a century.
[Plus or minus the places where the Warrior of Light has done what is their wont. But that is something that he can get into if - no, when - she asks.]
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Her fingers are tangled in her damp hair for want of something to keep her hands busy, carefully trying to tame the unruly mass as best as she can, winding it into something at least somewhat resembling a proper braid. Yet the need to keep her hands busy doesn't mean her mind isn't constantly at work, and her spike of interest fades as she lets out a croon of delight at the sight of the strange creature.]
Aww, it looks so soft! I'll have to see if I can find one later.
[Resigned to her hair being a lost cause for the moment, she cocks her head, a hand lifting to press her knuckles to her lips as she thinks.]
Well no wonder you look so tired, anyone would be at that point. Honestly I'm just amazed that any plants are still able to grow properly, much less the animals surviving. That kind of imbalance would normally kill everything, wouldn't it?
[The words aren't there; she's no scientist or scholar, just a shattered remnant that can feel the balance of life all around her and here everything feels...odd. Too loud in the wrong ways, too quiet in the others. Still, she pauses, cocking her head and leaning closer than most people would consider polite or welcome.]
Thanks for answering my questions, by the way. I know your nap was interrupted and you're helping me even when you're so worn out and probably have more important things to do other than get more sleep, but I do appreciate it.
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[He's never much bothered with them, personally. Mostly out of a general lack of a need to. But he knows well enough that the Crystarium has amaro, all the same. Even if he's never made too much of an effort to figure out where.]
And the imbalance did cause that sort of upheaval. Fully nine-tenths of this star is empty. Barren of even what life can be found here, and even this [he gestures at what is, presumably, world around them] can be prone to tending towards stagnation. Few could say this star is thriving, though people have managed to eke out some semblance of existence all the same.
Still, I don't see what that has to do with me.
[He's frequently tired, yes. And makes no secret that he's quite fond of naps besides. But that doesn't have anything to do with the Flood of Light, and the realization of the assumption she must have made dawns on him slowly.]
Oh. You're assuming me to be a native of this shard, aren't you?
[It's understandable, perhaps. But he very much isn't.]
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[She's not going to like this answer, she knows she won't. Aerith is already having to shove the loss of Gaia into a box in a dark corner of her mind where she shoves all her hurts to deal with later. Much later. The sort of later that borders on Never which she knows isn't healthy but how else is she supposed to make sense of the world?
A flicker of a frown crosses her features and she presses a hand to her forehead. Blinding light, like a wave crashing against the shore but too large, too much, cresting higher than the highest buildings, ready to wash everything away before it goes solid.
A wall of glittering, blinding crystal that leaves shimmering clouds to choke the skies.
The shudder grips her before she can stop it and her hand falls, her gaze distant even as she blinks owlishly at him.]
Well how was I supposed to know? It's not like you told me otherwise, silly! But if you're not from here then where did you come from? I'd ask how but somehow I feel like it's a little obvious with how easy you make everything look. But really, you look like you haven't had a proper sleep in ages. Have you?
[Worry creeps into her gaze as she comes fully back to herself, studying his face with a surprisingly intense look. Peering up at him, she takes in the slope of his shoulders and the sharp shadows of his features. There's something almost uncanny in the way she meets his gaze, then.]
When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep and a good meal? Do you even remember anymore?
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You do realize I wasn't present to witness it personally?
[He'd had better things to do with his time, even accounting for the difference in how fast time moves between the shards.]
But as I understand it, the local heroes did a little too well in eliminating the forces of darkness. Thus did Light rise ascendent, resulting in what you see before you.
[Or feel, maybe, given that the Ocular doesn't exactly have windows.]
And you didn't ask. Although where I happen to be from is... irrelevant. Not here; that's all that matters.
[Given that she barely knows about the idea of shards, much less the Source, the last thing he wants to do is to have to explain the Sundering. Fortunately she offers a reasonable enough topic for him to turn his attention too, for that he very nearly feels the urge to squirm under the uncanniness of that gaze.]
And whyever should I not remember? It's hardly the sort of thing one simply forgets.
[And whatever else he may be, he's not forgetful. Although he might grant that he has forgotten the feeling of getting a decent night's sleep, somewhere along the way.]
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[But his next statement catches her off-guard, brows furrowing again as her hand lifts, knuckles touching her lips as she thinks. They did too well? If that's what doing too well looked like, then...what did that say about Gaia? Somehow it feels like what's happened here is connected to her Planet, why else would she be yanked along? But on the other hand, what happened to everyone back home?
Her eyebrows arch again, and she's back to staring up at him.]
Okay, so you answered one question, but it sure sounds like it wasn't recently. Aren't you a little old to be needing someone to keep an eye on you and make sure you get proper rest? And this is coming from the girl who just woke up in a lake.
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You said it yourself. Who can sleep, with this excess of Light polluting the skies?
[It's another non-answer. Or at least, not a direct answer to his being too old to need someone to keep an eye on him. But it is a truth, and it's not as if she hasn't already commented on the presence of the Light being enough to give someone a headache.]
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[There's a finger prodding at his side, a persistent jabbing that will not relent until he does.]
You can talk for ages and still not give a straight answer! It feels like you just enjoy being frustrating.
[When she sighs it's heavy, her nose wrinkling as she thinks.]
Or is it because I ask too many questions? I suppose that's fair, I guess I did just bother you because you were the first person I saw.
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Like, for instance, not giving a straight answer. Which it should be noted is still not his immediate response.]
Forgive me. I've forgotten what it's like to speak to someone with such a genuine interest.
[The apology is - mostly - genuine. But there's still something in his voice that makes it ring just that little bit off. Like it's something that's almost forced, regardless of how true it is. Still, he does at least continue on. And better still, the almost-forced tone is gone from his voice.]
Besides, it's not as if I didn't choose to answer. Although I'll admit that, yes, I wasn't expecting quite so many questions.
[Even if he probably should have, between her being an echo of one of his oldest friends and newly arrived to the First besides.]
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[Not that she can really talk, but that was then, and she'd had her reasons. Still, the poking stops, and the wrinkles along the bridge of her nose smooth out as she smiles bright enough that it lights up her eyes.]
I'll try not to totally overwhelm you with them, next time. It's just that this place is so interesting, and the company's pretty fascinating too.
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[And in fairness, they wouldn't be wrong. He is an inveterate schemer, and has been actively working to nefarious ends for centuries besides. But that doesn't mean that he's any less capable of offering genuine advice and assistance all the same.]
Still, the restraint is... appreciated.
[That he's still willing to answer the questions is probably a good sign. Especially when he could have just as easily brought her to the Crystarium and then disappeared off into the darkness again. But that she's willing to make an attempt to not overwhelm him either is still something he's not going to complain about in the slightest.]