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songerein2022-09-10 12:54 pm
songbird_slayer) wrote in songerein2022-09-10 12:54 pm
Entry tags:
Player Event: "Imbalance" [OPEN]
Who: Everyone! Even the newcomers! What a time to jump in, huh?
Which: OPEN Dreamscape
What: On the night of the 10th a strange dreamscape appears, dividing some dreamers into two, each bearing just half of themselves... how will they pull themselves together?
Warnings: Probably a lot. I trust you fine people to please mark your content appropriately should your threads make mention of anything triggering. I'm watching you.
Quiet nights never seem to stay quiet. It began with the slightest flicker within the crystal lanterns, a ripple, perhaps the sound of coins clinking together.
Then, with a distant scream, there was a torrent of blue and orange flame. It's hot but it doesn't burn, swirling and dancing with the frenzy of a desperate dancer. It blinds to familiar surroundings, twin colors that seemingly never end...
Until one's feet touches sand-dusted stone and marble. The air is hot and arid, ripe with burning kindling in myriad torches that line walkways. The flames rhythmically sway, catching the glimmer of golden archways and decor that embed the city... palace...? That lay before you.
Something is wrong. Really wrong. Something in you feels... different. Blank. But before you can comprehend it much further, something is running down the pathway in the distance to enter the palace like the devil was on its heels. That something looks just like you...
You pursue this weird other you... or, you don't. Perhaps you were drawn to the palace's splendor and decided to explore, maybe find some sweet treasure while you're here. Whatever the case, nothing about this place smells dusty or aged. It feels brand new... lined with statues and tapestries of what appeared to be great warriors, all humanoid and bearing twisted horns atop their heads and long, craggy tails covered in scales. But some of them have been altered in some way... some are missing their heads, and one or two "lucky" ones have simply had large claw marks ripped across their face. What would put claw marks in stone was anyone's guess.
Those who tire of the architecture may find some doors are unlocked. Yes, such a lavish place seems all too eager to lay itself bare for you, perhaps bearing a sparkly trinket or two to your liking. (Note: Unfortunately, any treasures obtained in the palace will only come back with you in the form of candies shaped as said jewels, crowns made of shortbread, tapestries spun from candy floss, etc. It's all food. Enjoy!)
Deeper and deeper you delve, either arms full of treasure or having bumped into friends who don't exactly act like your friends normally would, you find more motifs of the warriors, more intact the further you head through this weird city-palace. Near the center are statues depicting two... figures... each holding a pair of scales.
Yet no matter how much you wait and watch them, the scales continue to sway from one side to the other. There's nothing on their respective plates, however... what could be throwing them off?
If you place anything on the plates and mend the swaying scales, you are given a single shard of a strange crystal rife with dreamotion energy with a sense of wholeness and connection. It shifts colors as you turn it this way and that in your hand. Maybe that'll help put some of these people back together if fighting or talking to them won't do it...
[ooc: Information and Plotting post is here for easy review. The shards are meant to simplify putting people back together if needed, but are the only thing that can be taken into the semi-waking world as a pretty bauble. Also, a reminder that this is optional. Enjoy!]
Which: OPEN Dreamscape
What: On the night of the 10th a strange dreamscape appears, dividing some dreamers into two, each bearing just half of themselves... how will they pull themselves together?
Warnings: Probably a lot. I trust you fine people to please mark your content appropriately should your threads make mention of anything triggering. I'm watching you.
Quiet nights never seem to stay quiet. It began with the slightest flicker within the crystal lanterns, a ripple, perhaps the sound of coins clinking together.
Then, with a distant scream, there was a torrent of blue and orange flame. It's hot but it doesn't burn, swirling and dancing with the frenzy of a desperate dancer. It blinds to familiar surroundings, twin colors that seemingly never end...
Until one's feet touches sand-dusted stone and marble. The air is hot and arid, ripe with burning kindling in myriad torches that line walkways. The flames rhythmically sway, catching the glimmer of golden archways and decor that embed the city... palace...? That lay before you.
Something is wrong. Really wrong. Something in you feels... different. Blank. But before you can comprehend it much further, something is running down the pathway in the distance to enter the palace like the devil was on its heels. That something looks just like you...
You pursue this weird other you... or, you don't. Perhaps you were drawn to the palace's splendor and decided to explore, maybe find some sweet treasure while you're here. Whatever the case, nothing about this place smells dusty or aged. It feels brand new... lined with statues and tapestries of what appeared to be great warriors, all humanoid and bearing twisted horns atop their heads and long, craggy tails covered in scales. But some of them have been altered in some way... some are missing their heads, and one or two "lucky" ones have simply had large claw marks ripped across their face. What would put claw marks in stone was anyone's guess.
Those who tire of the architecture may find some doors are unlocked. Yes, such a lavish place seems all too eager to lay itself bare for you, perhaps bearing a sparkly trinket or two to your liking. (Note: Unfortunately, any treasures obtained in the palace will only come back with you in the form of candies shaped as said jewels, crowns made of shortbread, tapestries spun from candy floss, etc. It's all food. Enjoy!)
Deeper and deeper you delve, either arms full of treasure or having bumped into friends who don't exactly act like your friends normally would, you find more motifs of the warriors, more intact the further you head through this weird city-palace. Near the center are statues depicting two... figures... each holding a pair of scales.
Yet no matter how much you wait and watch them, the scales continue to sway from one side to the other. There's nothing on their respective plates, however... what could be throwing them off?
If you place anything on the plates and mend the swaying scales, you are given a single shard of a strange crystal rife with dreamotion energy with a sense of wholeness and connection. It shifts colors as you turn it this way and that in your hand. Maybe that'll help put some of these people back together if fighting or talking to them won't do it...
[ooc: Information and Plotting post is here for easy review. The shards are meant to simplify putting people back together if needed, but are the only thing that can be taken into the semi-waking world as a pretty bauble. Also, a reminder that this is optional. Enjoy!]
Finale.
Our fates are yours to bend, to hells and heavens flow.
((OOC: For plotting, please catch me over at
[It is within the amphitheatre that past and present stand before one another at last. The floor even here has become riddled with jagged lines where the ground below would threaten to yawn open and swallow any unfortunate enough to be standing upon a loose fragment of earth.]
Some merry chase you've led us on! And I suppose this was your goal the entire time, to draw us into the depths of Aglaia? For what purpose?
[On one side stands Emet-Selch. Ancient, Third Seat of the Convocation of Fourteen. His mask hangs from a cord around his neck and two golden eyes smolder beneath a furrowed brow. He scowls at the man before him as if he doesn't much like what he sees.]
[On the other side...stands Emet-Selch, still wearing the face of Solus zos Galvus. Founding Father of the Garlean Empire, and Under Various Guises, the Architect of Myriad Other Imperially Inclined Nations. Unsundered. Ascian. His lips form a caricature of a smile as he identifies his latest guest immediately, one he's no doubt been awaiting since they arrived. After all, it's a face he'd be hard-pressed to forget - for it is his own.]
Oh, come now, you cannot possibly be surprised! Though knowing you as well as I do, I'm given to believe we've both enough sense not to waste our precious time and energy here on a quarrel of pure and pointless pettiness. Am I mistaken?
[Across the room, the robed man bristles.]
My quarrel with you is hardly so trivial! What makes you think I will freely offer you my cooperation? You who have committed atrocities in the name of my people, you who have become so twisted that you would defile their very memory for the sake of your own selfish indulgences!
And what would you have done differently, hmn? Think yourself above bloodying your own hands for the sake of our people's future? I thought that once. Of course I did. Yet you and I both know how well that turned out. After all, as you've always said, we would never forsake them.
Would we?
no subject
Yes. He is most certain it is him.
Certain, as well, that he is not heard when he shouts to him. For the Third of his brethren moves quickly, with intent, and as of this moment, is a man driven by a singular focus. Though it is tempting to call to mind the memories of chasing after him on numerous occasions when this man would insist upon leaving the Capitol swiftly and undisturbed, he knows this time is not anything like those. The other man's steps are too rushed. The press of his advance was too aggressive.
So. He follows, and he follows, and he follows. And finally, the hallways open up unto a room. And there, he sees the other man's back. He has finally come to a stop, and...]
Emet-Selch?
[Two souls are of that colour. Two. He advances, his eyes widening as the physical form of the second soul comes into better focus.
That man...
He had dreamt of him once, had he not? A man with a weathered face, cracked and eroded with a lifetimes' worth of emotion. With eyes that did not shine- dead eyes truly, utterly spent of feeling. A man that dripped fatigue... yet one with a kindness that would not truly leave him.
How very like a dream that all memory of him had faded when he had woken up. ...But how very like a dream that it all floods back at the sight of him.
He would move to the younger man's side. He would stand with him. Yet they speak of things unknown to him. Disarming things- of their peoples' memory and blood. Things, that frankly, frighten him.
Yet still, he moves forward, bringing himself into full view of both men.]
What do you speak of?
no subject
Ah, Elidibus. How kind of you to join us. I see you're just as punctual as ever.
[His mouth twitches, as if his words reflect some private joke, and his eyes trail back to his other half.]
Dear me, you should have mentioned that you brought our young charge with you. Indeed this will make everything much, much easier. Do you dare do the honors, or shall I put you out of your misery?
[The other man sucks in a breath through his teeth, half-turning in Themis's direction. What can he say? He hadn't yet wished to burden either Themis or Hythlodaeus with the full weight of what he knows, of what is to come. Had that decision, in itself, been flawed?]
...we speak of the present state of our world. Of Etheirys. You'll recall when I said to you when you first arrived - that, as things stand, there is no one else capable of taking on my title. That the world now is a very different place from the one you remember.
[Emet-Selch rolls his eyes (so needlessly melodramatic!) and interjects, his words clipped and matter of fact. The smile gone.]
That is because the world was broken - sundered - into the source shard and its thirteen reflection. And with it, all life, save those of us who managed to escape the blow.
no subject
Yet that is not the extent of his sight. The elder may only be a foggy figure from a dream. Themis' recollection of his motives was still vague, so unclear. But he can see that he is pained. That pain links them. It is a pain shared by both of them, in equal measure. None suffers more than the other. Despite their contrary stances, the ways that each of them expresses that pain, no man is different from the other.
Time is the only variable.
Time, he can well see, has twisted the elder into something the younger finds abhorrent. Time has the elder scorn the younger's belief. Has him react in disgust to ideals he has grown to hate.
Yet they are both the same.
And then there is what they both reveal.]
...
[It is shocking. Of course it is- It is something that he wants to deny, no, refute that all that they, those that came before them had dedicated every inch of their lives toward could ever end- yet he cannot. He has been spoken to as Elidibus. So it is not his remit to act as himself- as a single man, horrified. And he would not falter in what is requested of him.
So with his eyes moving between the pair of them, he takes his place between them. Squarely between them.]
And yet, in the face of all of this, you direct your anger toward yourself... Emet-Selch.
[He moves his eyes between one and the other. And it should be plain that he addresses not a single man. More the both of them. Together.]
Mine is not the seat of discipline. Nor is it my right to assume the role of the Speaker. I may not direct your focus using either means. ...Yet it is well within my duty to advise. So, Emet-Selch...
[Another glance to the both of them. A slow, silent turn.]
As our star- you allege- is torn unto pieces, I cannot help but note so too are you in two. ...Therefore, I would hear the both of you. And I would advise.
no subject
[Neither, it must be noted, seems terribly accepting of Elidibus's turn of phrase, and he's like to hear the way the elder Emet-Selch draws in a sharp and ragged breath.]
...y...es, well. I suppose that's one way to look at it. All the more reason why a certain someone should cease with his valiant posturing and return to his rightful place. Do you think I enjoy this any more than you do?
Do not speak as if you know me! What reason would I have for joining myself together with a delusional madman who believes debasing our star further is the only means to save it!
[The elder laughs, an uninhabited and joyless sound as he looks to himself with what might be mistaken for pity.]
Oh, but I do. Unlike that noctaere we fought on the moon, you know as well as I that I am you, and you are me. Two sides of the same cowry; two halves of the same whole. No matter how ugly that reality may seem to you in this moment. Perhaps I should also note that I've yet to hear you offer so much as a scrap of an idea, since you find my own methods so alarming. But come, let us waste no more of the Emissary's time and allow him to advise as he sees fit.
[The younger bristles again, his eyes so acutely narrowed that his pupils are like to vanish beneath the weight of his brow, and at last he turns his head to address Themis - someone, at least, that he doesn't feel sickened to gaze upon.]
You will forgive me, Elidibus. It is not myself I take issue with, but this farce who now stands before us. You cannot mean I am to come to an accord with someone whose very actions I find detestable.
no subject
So he is to be careful.
His gaze moves from the elder, after a respectful dip of his head. His focus then travels to the younger. To the first problem to assess.]
There is nothing to forgive. It has ever been my duty to assist you and our brethren with yours. ...And perhaps, Emet-Selch, I would not advise you to heed what is said within this place. Merely to hear it, and to make your own decision based upon all of the information divulged.
...A decision I am confident will be the correct one.
[Reassuring. Calm. Serene, in the face of such disorder. And nothing else should be expected of him. A hint of a smile crosses his lips, and then his gaze moves to the elder, the smile still (ever so faintly!) present.]
[To the younger:] I would know more of the term you used. Of debasing our star. Such is contradictory to the oaths each of us has made, is it not? So please. Explain.
[To the elder:] I would also have your response. For I think time has altered you, Emet Selch. Yet I do not think anything would suffice to change the man I know you to be.
The Third Seat
[He is aware, too, of another pair of eyes upon him, and he pauses a long, considered moment, before his frown finally settles into something resolute.]
...If you would have me heed and hear, then it is only right that you should be presented with the truth of what befell our star. 'Tis hardly a telling for the faint of heart, and a burden I'd have much preferred that none have to bear.
[He glances aside, and thus he begins:]
It all started with a cry, a terrible keening sound from within the depths of Etheirys. The aetherial currents had grown stagnant, and our very star begun to rot. Life and the very laws of creation soured, and we were all afraid.
"Three dooms to unmake all that we were... "
The first beast was striking in its unsightliness. It called down a cataclysmic deluge, yet even its defeat did not halt the coming march of oblivion. Through our dread, and I will admit, our despair, creation magicks ran unchecked, giving rise to malformed beasts and abominations, manifesting our deepest fears. The sickness soon spread, and the fabric of the very star began to fray.
The sun scorched the earth, boiled seas... the lands buckled, cities burned and rivers ran red with blood.
Thus did the second doom break us, giving birth to terror. A terror which, in turn, gave birth to new beasts. Fiery rain fell from the heavens, and fear began to take root within the land itself, incapable of being expunged. Thus did the third doom undo us. Its voice was fulgent destruction, and none could bar its path. As it edged inexorably closer, we knew...
Without decisive sacrifice, our star would perish.
[...]
...through many long and sleepless sessions, we of the Convocation at last landed upon a solution to save Etheirys and reinstate the flow of aether. We would summon a vastly powerful being, a god, and make manifest the will of our star to halt the coming doom.
Zodiark.
no subject
[It is a terrible truth, most certainly. And one that he would think, from any other mouth, was a falsity. Something which was intended to hurt, to wound. To be lingered upon, something that would evoke a sense of dread in all that would hear it- a telling that would evoke that dread until the listeners' final breath.
As beings that dedicated their lives to the improvement of their star- it is anathema. To he and his brethren, those who gave even more than dedication- who gave every single ounce of themselves, it is somehow even worse to hear. As Themis, he would deny it. Seek a form of contentment in that- in deliberate denial. As the seat of Elidibus, he cannot.
His smile is gone now. In its place is a terse expression, Lips pulled into a straight, thin line, eyebrows furrowed- his eyes sharp and focused upon every terrible syllable that leaves his elder's mouth. Yet in all of it, there is hope. ]
This creation of ours... This god- It must have succeeded. Our brethren- you, Emet-Selch, would not fail our people nor our star.
no subject
[Don't look at him with such hope, Elidibus. Emet-Selch closes his eyes for a long, long moment. Breathes, and tries to ignore the ache of a loss he has carried for millennia.]
It succeeded, and order was restored. Yet you know as well as I that a creation of such magnitude, of such might and magnificence would require an untold amount of aether to bring forth into being.
...Half of our number. All willing volunteers.
That is what salvation cost us.
By His grace, the crisis was forestalled, yet the damage had been done. Our world was but a shadow of what had once been, desolate and uninhabitable. And so another half of the remaining survivors would give of themselves to see new life ushered unto the star.
Yet our sense of loss remained. We mourned the loss of family, friends, loved ones, a way of life which had so abruptly been seized from us. And so it was decided that we would again turn to Zodiark. In future, we would offer up this new life to bring back those who had so selflessly offered of themselves.
But some few of our people disagreed with this plan. They felt that Zodiark could not be trusted, that the sacrifice had already become to great. And so they created another god to serve as his shackles; to bind him. Hydaelyn.
no subject
...Yet he cannot. Even thinking it seems a sacrilege. For each and every one of those lives were special to another. The optics of a matter were nothing to those that mourned. And...
And...
Absorbed by this god, Zodiark...
They were lost. Never to return to the star. Never to go, contentedly, gladly, with the pride that their lives were an undertaking well done. Never to be reborn. Never to reap the fruits of their hard work and never to experience the beauty of their world once more.
It is terrible. Truly terrible. His head is bowed. His gaze is fixed on the ground.
And yet, there is hope. When Emet-Selch speaks of offering up the new life that might eventually be cultivated into flourishing on their star to Zodiark in a form of exchange for those lost, he looks up to both forms of the same man, his eyes wide.
It is something that would set the star back, themselves back, generations. Of that he is sure. Yet...
The thought of the ethics behind that, as well as all the hope that comes with it, is extinguished in his final statement. And that...
To him, it is something just as galling.]
Our people have never been in disagreement regarding any matter in all of our history.
[Much less one so important.]
...Enet-Selch... What happened to the counselor of the people?
[Azem would have surely worked tirelessly to bring them all into accord. Their dear friend would have made them see. ...Wouldn't they?]
no subject
[Something raw flickers across Emet-Selch's face, something that not even duty, not even the responsibility of seeing this tale told and presented reasonably can manage to snuff out.]
[His shoulders droop somewhat, and they again seem heavy, weary.]
No, they hadn't. Yet there is always a first time for everything. Despite our best efforts, our differences could not be bridged. Venat's group refused to allow any more sacrifices, and we refused to abandon those brethren who were lost.
[...]
no subject
[He'd remained silent until now, but in this moment the other Emet-Selch slowly unfolds from where he is seated and rises to his full (bowed) height.]
What happened, you ask? The answer, Elidibus, is simple. The individual of whom you speak refused to choose. Neither taking the side of the Convocation nor the side of their dearly beloved teacher.
[There's a hint of a snarl in Emet-Selch's voice as he speaks of Venat.]
In short, they abandoned us and their duty. Never to be seen again.
Not that there was much time left, mind you, for our two gods were pitted against one another. They fought, and they fought, and they fought. And with a mighty blow, Hydaelyn struck Lord Zodiark down so soundly that his very essence was shattered into ten and thirteen reflections.
Yet it did not stop there.
[Emet-Selch's arm sweeps behind him to where the orbs hover about the ampitheatre. His expression is one of suppressed fury and anguish.]
The very star itself was sundered - along with all life upon it. Three of our number survived.
no subject
He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms as he regards the older of the Emet-Selchs.]
That's quite enough of that. While I believe the majority of your recollection of events, I must draw a line when it comes to your evaluation of Azem.
Ever have they pursued what they believed to be the best for the star and its people. Though they may have followed a path that diverged from both the Convocation's and Venat's, I will not have you tell me they abandoned anyone. Not by choice.
no subject
What, then? Would you prefer a slightly altered evaluation? They left. On a fool's errand, no doubt. If they had at least chosen a side, if they had at least stayed, they might have made a difference one way or another.
Instead, they died in disgrace.
no subject
And that Hythlodaeus refutes the information provided is plain. Themis' eyes move toward the younger of the two Emet-Selchs though- taking in his expression. The pain in his eyes, the slump of his shoulders- the way that even so resolute a soul threatens- just for a moment- to waver.
It all but confirms it.
There is truth in what the elder says. It is plain- writ upon the face of his younger half. Both halves bear the same tale. Nothing is contradictory- and despite the fact that time has certainly appeared to change the sadness, the vulnerability of the younger into the elder's scorn, all tallies.
So.
He closes his eyes, willing away the personal details that Hythlodaeus has questioned. That he wants to question very much, not least at the fate of his friend. The mention of Venat as a detractor is something new to him as well- and something that yes, he would like to question.
Yet displaying horror or disbelief would not help. Nor would asking questions. For they are an indulgence not to be his. As his eyes open again, he speaks only as his Seat would have him speak.]
...
And yet, those that survived would be in accord. As there is breath in our bodies, our duty does not end.
[He moves his gaze to the elder. Both to give the younger a moment to recollect himself, and to listen.
...His voice is morose. For he knows that what he would ask is a painful thing.]
Like any of us of the Convocation, I think you still hold your duty close to your heart. And from my knowledge of you- Emet-Selch, I know that it guides you- in all things.
...So, I would have you detail it. For the benefit of all present.
no subject
[Emet-Selch's eyes harden as he glances to his younger half, and to Hythlodaeus who is no doubt still coming to terms with Azem's departure. His attention then returns to Elidibus as he inhales - slowly, and discreetly - a stabilizing breath.]
Indeed, in the early days following the Sundering duty was all we had. Now where were we?
To our horror, what life had managed to hang on by a thread was malformed, twisted, disturbing... Magicks all but vanished from the world, along with language, culture, and civilization.
We turned our efforts instead to devising a way to repair what had been broken. If we could find a manner through which to combine each of the thirteen shards back into the original Source, we surmised, we might restore what remained of our world and with it the fragments of our fallen god. And thus began our great work: the Rejoining. Our first attempt, I will confess, ended in failure, but learning from our mistakes, our efforts at last gave rise to the First Umbral Era.
Meanwhile. Life, as it does, finds a way... slowly, painstakingly slowly did these new mortal races begin to evolve, to reclaim the use of tools, to establish towns and simple fields of study. In time they confirmed what we had already guessed. Some of the souls within these fledgling lifeforms were similar in color and resonance to those we had lost. Yet none could remember their lost world - not really.
no subject
[This time, even despite his best effort, he cannot help but wince. It is terrible. Too terrible- Just as painful as hearing of the eventualities of those he loved. But worse, somehow. It is emptiness- a hole. A great gaping void, experienced wholly, rawly- unexperienced ever before. All the harder to endure, given that he had never- and never had any reason- to feel anything like it before now.
It is only a fraction of the pain Emet-Selch had carried with him all of these years. These few moments, a fleeting instant of the near eternity Emet-Selch had spent with it as his only companion.
Gathering himself is difficult. ]
...
[Extremely difficult. It takes willpower. So very much of it- yet his voice is clear. Steady. Contemplative.]
Life, as it does, finds a way. ...And provided a viable source of exchange while it was at it.
[He turns to the younger Emet-Selch.]
You, as well as the rest of our brethren within the Convocation, resolved yourselves to harvest the life that would be birthed by our star anew in exchange for those we loved, did you not?
[His eyes betray nothing. His stance is assured. The only indicator of awful this particular impartial assessment is, is his voice. It is so low now. Almost nothing.]
...Taking life... to reform our star into something that would make our recovery plausible once more... To make our sacrifices worth something...
[An exhale.]
An extra step, to return those we loved to us...
...Does not sound the action of a monster, nor of a madman. More a harrowing task. One that would bring about untold sorrow. Unfathomable despair. Yet for all of us, Emet-Selch, you commenced upon it. You sacrificed yourself, as much as any of us did. If not in your body, then in your soul.
1/2
...we did. For the sake of those who had placed their faith in us and our plan. How, after all, could the three of us possibly hope to nurture what little remained of our star alone?
[His brow furrows again, fists clenching at his sides.]
Yet what he has not told you is the process. To rejoin one of the shards with the Source requires enormous quantities of aether of a carefully chosen aspect - typically brought about by a cataclysmic, world-changing event. We each developed our own methods of ushering forward such a tipping point, but the results are much the same.
Such an event causes a tear in the Source, through which the reflection's aether is then funneled and absorbed. The shard is destroyed, obliterated, along with all life upon it, and calamity befalls the Source. Destruction for the sake of salvation. Untold carnage. Loss of life and knowledge and culture. Entire empires manipulated into bringing about their own downfall and the destruction of their worlds. Are such acts truly any different from what befell us?
[His eyes turn to the elder Emet-Selch and pin him there, angry and conflicted.]
Should you ask me if such a thing is worth it, there is but one answer. Yet that answer does not excuse your actions, nor what choices you have made given all that you know.
You're right. I do understand your pain, and your loss, and the wretched path you've been set upon, yet our history has twisted you into the very thing you and I refused to become! How?! I told them I would never, ever fall to your level of madness, and yet here you--!
[Emet-Selch cuts himself off, his eyes widening in shock and confusion. Told them? Told who? When precisely was this? It's the oddest notion, but he could practically swear that he has been in a position much like this one at least once before.]
[Yet he can't remember it. Or can he?]
2/2
[However forgotten, there is one mystery that links them. One faded vision that seems somehow, inexplicably relevant.]
Elpis.
no subject
Unsurprisingly, he doesn't remember whatever conversation the younger may be referring to. But that doesn't mean he doubts it happened. How Kairos's effects might be unraveling now he doesn't know, but even this small snippet of a memory is enough to bring a thousand more questions forward, conversations had and brushed off without a second thought suddenly seeming much, much more relevant.
More information on these Rejoinings can wait.]
You've remembered something.
no subject
[Emet-Selch waves a dismissive hand.]
Certainly nothing concrete. I know that she and two others were with us as we toured the testing grounds with Hermes, yet anything which was said or done is a complete blur to me.
no subject
A feeling of deja vu, more like. As if I uttered these same sentiments long, long ago. Before the Sundering ever occurred, before the current "Emet-Selch" ever even existed.
Of course, such a thing is utterly ridiculous. Impossible.
no subject
I know you in particular are single-minded when it comes to your goals, but I wouldn't dismiss this feeling of deja-vu so quickly.
[He looks to the younger next.]
It may be nothing, or it may be something of great import. I can't say for certain with the information I have, but neither can I brush what I do know aside.
[He lets that hang for a second, then shakes his head.]
But this can be explored after the two of you have reconciled.
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[Of course (yes) he does realize that he and the other him are two parts of the same whole. For as much as he'd like to deny it, he can feel the tug of their connection, the melding of their thoughts one with another.]
[Yet to be joined together with that... Whether or not the elder him is truly a madman (unlikely) or simply a sad, tired clown...it is still a fate which he desires not for himself. His only reason for accepting would be an assurance of success, something which even Emet-Selch cannot guarantee.]
[But what of this half-memory? Could that, possibly, open up another path? Or is it yet another spark to be followed - to have snuffed out before it can truly burn?]
[He looks to Elidibus.]
I need not ask whether reconciliation is your recommended course. Yet you would have me make that sacrifice again? I watched a man I once respected vanish before my eyes, driven mad by what befell us, by an obsessive need to leap from one form, to the next, and the next.
[He does not speak of the other.]
Even I was not unaffected, as you can well imagine. I became dead to my emotions. How else could anyone have embarked upon this mission so dispassionately?
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[Instead, it seems he must contend with his foolish, sentimental other half. A necessary task, but one which will only hinder him if left unchecked.]
[Madhuri is nowhere to be seen, and the Exarch has once again slipped from his grasp. How very, very vexing.]
[Emet-Selch sighs, speaking between the four of them:]
Need you reminding? I chose our brethren, our people, those we were tasked to serve for the rest of our lives - come what may, no matter the cost, no matter the weight of the burdens we've already borne or those we've yet to bear.
Is that not what you'd have done?
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