[ A quiet huff. ] No, I did not design them. By the time I took the seat, there was very little for me to improve upon with regards to the city's structure and make.
[ She is free to walk right into the city model as well since none of it has a physical presence. He will remain at the fringes of the sprawling metropolis, gazing at it with a pinch of longing while she takes her pictures.
At her prompting, he points out a building some ways from the tallest landmark. It lights up briefly for her benefit. Another building, a short distance from the Bureau and distinctly apartment-like, also lights up. ]
The Bureau of the Architect. I was granted residence nearby.
[ He pauses, thinking, then points out the Capitol building. ] We would convene here, I and the rest of the Fourteen, to discuss matters of import. 'Tis but a short walk away from Akademia Anyder, our most esteemed place of learning and creation, overseen by those given the honour of the title of Lahabrea.
[ As soon as she knows it's alright to, she does, step in closer to look around it, ears lifting in wonder when he begins to point out the places personal to him. The bureau, huh... and the Akademia...
She does seem to be completely fascinated as she steps around. ]
Lahabrea... huh, that was the name— erm, title of the person you were irritated at in that vision I saw.
[ With this being a place that existed beyond time, having been the home of creation even before any of them... ]
What did you all look like in here, then? A fancy place like this would have to have some fancy form of dress, right? Something sharp and stylish!
[ He snaps his fingers again and this time it is his own self which he glamours over. Unable to actually change the clothing itself here, he drapes himself in the illusion of a plain, dark grey robe with a wide cowl and pale inner lining. His mask though - that is real, summoned from where he keeps it at the apartment: red and stern and clearly the only substantial part of the outfit. ]
The citizens would wear plain white masks. The Convocation wore red so that they could be identified.
[ He presses lips together and narrows his eyes at her reaction. Many, many years of having their garb indirectly scorned leaves him inclined to aggressively defend it.
Shutting his eyes for a few moments, he takes a few meditative breaths and lets them out slowly. His response, even after that, is clipped and restrained. ]
A uniform? No. 'Tis as much our cultural garb as whatever it is you Miqo'te wear.
[ He snaps his fingers and conjures several generic figures in a line outside Amaurot's sprawl: one member of each of Hydaelyn's races with random genders, bearing different clothing to mark out their professions. ]
Tell me: what would you think of each of these people if you met them? Generalisations are fine.
[ She's learnt pretty quickly that jumping to the first kneejerk conclusion would be pretty bad where it comes to him. So far, whenever he's told her something, it's always had something far deeper to explain the reasoning behind it.
So, she turns to look at the generic figures, her ears lifting as she examines them. ]
What would I think..?
[ That they're just how people are? They have their professions and identities... but she has a feeling she'll be learning soon enough on where this goes. So she circles around them. ]
In general? They're just people presenting themselves with unique identifiers. The elezen here looks like he's a weaver. This one looks like a rich merchant. He's ostentatious! And this hyur looks like she's seen better days, but seems to be very into her art from the apron with paint on it.
[ Generalizations. But she turns to look over at him. ]
But that's what I think they do. It doesn't necessarily make them what their appearances show them to be, aye?
[ So... she tilts her head. ]
If that's your cultural garb... would that mean you all dressed the same, because you didn't want people assuming things about what you offered?
[ He has to grudgingly acknowledge she is taking his words to heart and thinking things over. He nods as he waves away the figures, as well as his own illusory robes, with a gesture. The mask, he removes and holds on to. ]
Correct. These masks the Convocation wore are only distinct because they are recognition of the unique talents and skills we nurtured or happened to be born with. We were all paragons of our respective fields.
[ He crosses his arms, taking a moment to settle his thoughts. If she is going to make the effort to listen then the least he can do is give her level answers. ]
For example... I was born with the ability to perceive aether in its truest form. There are few magicks or souls able to escape my gaze. This is how I repaired your materia, how I would be able to perceive you for who you truly are even if you were to don an entirely different mortal shell.
It was for this singular talent that I was granted the honour of becoming the next Emet-Selch.
Edited (somehow what I thought in my head doesnt match with what I wrote?? thanks fingers) 2019-12-10 11:18 (UTC)
[ Her ears lift in surprise, but after what he asked, she did have to stop and think on why he'd be asking it. So most of these "ancients" were capable of many amazing feats, all of them unique to them. So the only reason to give them an identifier that put them on the same level as each other was...
Huh. That's actually smart. ]
Bloody amazing... I think I follow. By donning those robes, your people didn't let anyone think themselves above the other. The Convocation acknowledged you as being able to do something far more and had you take on the title of Emet-Selch... but you still maintained that equality.
[ She smiles, hands moving together in front of her in a pleased clap. ]
Emmy, that's brilliant! That way no one would want to fight each other. No wonder you wouldn't need weapons! And that ability... so you'd be able to see ghosts? Ah! You'll have to tell me about it proper soon! Though—
[ Wait. She turns back to look at him, her questions lingering on the forefront of her mind. ]
If you gained the title of Emet-Selch, what were you called before then? Didn't you have a birth name? And— your home. What was it called?
[ They had to have had a name for some place this wonderful looking. ]
Edited (I'm going to murder my phone also numbers are hard ) 2019-12-10 12:05 (UTC)
[ Ghosts...? He makes a slight face, wanting to correct her on the terminology. Anyone can see 'ghosts'; they are by definition souls which have manifested in the material world. But of course, she barrels on in her usual fashion and all he can do is roll his eyes and shake his head. Maybe he'll educate her on that topic someday... Even if Lahabrea would have been more suited to the task. ]
Ah...
[ That's right, he hasn't mentioned its name to her yet, has he? He turns back to the ghostly city, laid out on the floor of the rooftop. The only life it has is in his memories now. ]
...It was called Amaurot.
[ He pointedly ignores her query about his name. She is far from having earnt that privilege. ]
[ Can he blame her for being excited about something this fascinating? And she's getting a very clear image of what she could design for his ornament, come to think of it. Though she does notice that he's skipped out on his name... so does he have one? Or is he just hiding it? She wants to ask, but—
Maybe it's because of the vision she had the first time she met, for there was a resonance in their thoughts— but the very name, "Amaurot", makes her stop and mouth it as though she was waiting for him to say it- she's not sure what happens then. It was a feeling that had been lingering when she first saw the city, having wanted to look at it closely as she viewed it, but now, with the name...
It was somewhere in her memories, the Echo likely having drawn it from when she experienced his memories, but it doesn't feel that strange.
Something about it feels nostalgic. ]
Amaurot.
[ She repeats, now that she's not echoing him, a hand moving to over her chest as she tries to reconcile why she's feeling that— she has absolutely no connection to this place, after all. And yet... ]
Call me crazy, but I feel like I knew that.
[ She says honestly— her ears flicking sheepishly as she looks at the glowing city ]
... what happened to it? You don't have to answer now if it's too painful. It's just...
[ She feels odd, all of a sudden, like she's afraid of learning. ]
[ He doubts it, he thinks, still gazing at the small city. Perhaps an echo from whatever memories of his she had seen when they first met in person. They would not remember. Not yet. ]
...It has been several thousand years since it fell.
[ Yet it still hurts. Having to live in the shattered remnants of their star while the lesser races tore each reflection apart for resources or blind hate is like having a barb lodged and driven into one's skin. A painful, constant reminder of their loss.
He has told the tale several times now to different people. He relives the horror every night when he cannot help but fall asleep. The irregular rest is taking a visible toll on him, as she has noticed. ]
It was destroyed. Our own people destroyed it - in their fear and paranoia, the citizens manifested horrific beasts from their own imaginations and those beasts laid waste to the city. 'Twas the same all across the star - Amaurot was amongst the last to fall.
[ As he speaks, the aetherial diorama glows a hellish orange. Miniature therions and other, unfamiliar beasts descend upon Amaurot, burning and razing every building. Skyscrapers toppled and broke upon the slender walkways below, leaving behind ugly, twisted skeletons of a formerly elegant city. All that is missing are the bodies of the dead. ]
[ She's been noticing it for a while, the only reason she hasn't pushed her concern is because— well, she's only known him a little more than a month and while being in this place does tend to expedite one's care...
Well, maybe she should look into bothering him a little bit about it, very soon.
Because what he says makes her pale and the sight of it being ravaged makes her step back in horror, eyes wide as she watches the beautiful space suddenly start to fall apart. The monsters— whatever these creatures are, make her feel sick to see, and she turns to look at Emet-Selch in confusion. ]
Fear and paranoia? Of what? What could have possibly triggered something so horrible?
[ Even if this is just an illusion, she starts feeling a sinking feeling in her chest— for him to have to talk about this at all...
She feels bad for having had to ask but already, seeing just this much was enough to make her fascinated by the place... what did he go through, as being someone who actually lived there? ]
Even now we do not know. By all reports it began with a sound, resonating deep within the star. The outer settlements were the first to go silent. There were reports of creation magicks running unchecked. As this knowledge was disseminated, the people began to formulate wild theories as to the cause, leading to further spontaneous creations, dead townships, and fear.
As Amaurot collapsed around us, we - the Convocation - summoned Zodiark using the lives of half of the survivors. He rewrote the laws of reality and finally put an end to our calamity.
[ Her expression grows serious... a sound? That's a strange thing to be afraid of. Maybe later when she's scribing all this down, she'll be able to think on it a little more but perhaps whatever caused their creation magic to run amok was something that they was affecting their planet too.
The mention of summoning Zodiark reminds her how shaken she was on learning that Zodiark- and Hydaelyn were primals, and she closes her fingers into her palm as she looks at the bow vanishing images of Amaurot. She's quiet for a bit, before looking up at him. ]
You... used the lives... of your own people...
[ Again, this is tough for her to follow, though she does try. ]
You've mentioned the conflict between Hydaelyn and Zodiark... though, I don't understand. If half the survivors lives were used to summon Zodiark, wouldn't a summoning temper those that were in a primal's thrall? At least... that's been my understanding of the primals the beastmen summon.
[ He told her before that they were summoned the same way primals on their home were. She looks back at the rooftop before turning back to watch him. ]
... what happened after your home was gone? What happened to the other ancients?
[ The image of Amaurot darkens, silhouettes of once-proud spires now eerie, skeletal fingers barely visible in the night. ]
Our star was dying, [ he says flatly. ] The calamity had rendered it lifeless. Think of how many crystals it takes for some paltry spawn like Ifrit to be brought into being. Where, do you think, we could have sourced the aether required to bring forth our final, greatest creation if not from ourselves?
[ He rests a hand over his breast, where the heart (and soul) beats. ] They gladly gave their lives so that our people might live on. The Convocation - less the lone individual who stepped down from their seat - had been the one to perform the rite of imbuing the star with its will, thus it was we alone who were tempered by our god when He came into being.
[ His hand drops back to his side. He glances briefly at his mask, sighs, and waves it back to his apartment below. ]
The events which followed, I have already told you. During the battle between Them, Hydaelyn's blow struck at the heart of our deity, our star, and all were divided into the Source and its ten and three reflections. Zodiark was silenced, as was Her purpose. It mattered not who one had lent their voice to: all were sundered except for myself, Lahabrea, and Elidibus.
[ He meets her eyes directly and points at her face. ] Which is to say, every single one of you can trace your lineage back to the fragments of our surviving people. You, and the rest of the sorry mortals which populate the shards, are all that remain of them.
[ She's quiet, watching the mask being dismissed along with the fading images of what now just looks like a shell of the radiant city she was shown. She's quiet as she takes it all in, realizing that these people made a hefty sacrifice so far beyond anything she could ever imagine.
She... doesn't feel any of what he's saying in regards to herself being even a fragment of what he's claimed these ancients were. If they were sundered as he says, then it's unlikely she ever would. The only connection she's even had to anything this great is through him and the fleeting fragments of visions she saw with his memories.
Visions brought upon through a blessing that... comes from a primal, apparently.
And yet, it still hurts to hear of it, even if she hasn't lived through the length of time he has. She's faced loss, why wouldn't she understand at least that much?
Her ears droop visibly, before she realizes her cheeks are wet and her eyes widen before she quickly looks aside and touches her face with her fingers. She's not one to cry openly— it took her a whole twelvesdamned year to cry in this place at all. So this sudden show of tears is as much of a surprise to her as it might be to anyone here. ]
... I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't— but it's still...
[ She quickly looks aside, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hands and trying to keep her voice level. He asked her not to give unsolicited pity and here she is doing just that... has this place just worn on her that much? ]
Suppose I'll have to think twice before I think of myself as being any form of insignificant, aye? N-not that an amazing Radiant Matriarch like myself could be anything less—
[ There's the feeblest attempt at humour there, a bit self-deprecating and yet— she sighs and looks back with a concerned look. ]
But .. if you weren't sundered...and you were the only ones tempered—
[ She meets his gaze now, her own growing thoughtful despite the obvious sadness she's feeling. ]
... then all this time, what've you been trying to achieve? If we are fragments of your people, then... what is your purpose now? After all of this, it can't just be something as black and white as you wanting the complete end of humanity as it is now, for example. What good would that do for you all?
[ She realizes it's a stupid example, but considering their world has constantly been in a state of the Warrior of Light protecting them from the denizens of the dark... surely he'd understand why she uses that example. ]
[ He growls angrily and makes an irritated gesture. ]
We don't want you dead. When have we ever targeted you with the express purpose of driving you to extinction? Our purpose is to sow enough chaos to bring about a calamity - not to destroy our own star!
[ He's rather tired of this misconception. Every single gods-damned hero who pits themselves against them seems to labour under the mistaken impression that they just want everything and everyone dead.
Well, he will grant that those on the thirteen shards certainly do cease to be, but it's the Source which he has only ever been concerned with. The pieces live on through them anyway once their souls rejoin. ]
What would be the point in killing all of you after we sacrificed so many to save our world?
[ She did just say it can't be just that, after all. Though the mention of bringing about a calamity... her ears droop as she stares at him. ]
Sow enough chaos..? The last major calamity we had was Dalamud, and even that was circumvented. Somehow... I was very young when it occurred.
[ They'd also escaped Eorzea around then, not having stayed there very long. She lifts her hands to make a "easy there" gesture, before she circles around in front of him. ]
With everything you've told me, it'd be stupid to imagine that's your purpose— but what does bringing about a calamity do for you? For Zodiark?
Zodiark is the will of our star made manifest. I told you that Hydaelyn had sundered Him as surely as She had sundered the rest of you. Should every shard successfully rejoin the Source, He would be whole once more.
The overwhelming elemental surge which accompanies each calamity is echoed upon one of the shards. This forces the shard to collapse, whereupon it is absorbed by the Source. It is a delicate feat to accomplish. Tipping the balance too far results in a dead, useless world, as we learnt from the void we accidentally made of the Thirteenth. Thus Dalamud was exactly as devastating as it needed to be. I was the one who guided the Allagans towards the idea after all, and later ordered Garlemald's research into it as emperor.
[ And sometimes, one had to let the forces of good stop such power from spiralling out of control. Despite his complaints that Elidibus fretted overly much, their Emissary played as important a role as the rest of them in ensuring the did not repeat the mistake of the Thirteenth. ]
Each calamity is a Rejoining. With each Rejoining, Zodiark is one shard closer to His resurrection.
Edited (how dare I forget the honorary capital letters) 2019-12-12 04:36 (UTC)
[ Zodiark being made whole? Emet-Selch was around for the Allagans too? There's always something she realizes she should have put together but now she's wondering how much of their world's — their universe's progression had been orchestrated to work in their favor.
That the Ascians have already wholly destroyed one shard...
And yet, he's speaking of balance, while ultimately working towards what will inevitably... ]
How many rejoinings have occurred so far...?
[ And... ]
... what happens when Zodiark is whole? To us... even to you?
[ He still hasn't mentioned that. ]
Are you trying to bring those that were lost to you back? The ones who were sacrificed, and not sundered? Is that even possible?
'Tis our intention to bring back those who willingly gave their lives to our deity. When you are finally whole-- well, even we do not know. We have been observing the increased density of your souls and are fairly certain that you would at least be equal to our own strength if the star is made whole again. Beyond that...
[ He shrugs, shoulders slumping. He feels inexplicably tired again and bereft of hope. He's dead now - what does their grand plan matter? ]
Seven shards have rejoined the Source. Had I succeeded on the First... [ Hesitation. He's aware that the Exarch is here and that details could inevitably filter back to the man. Exhaling, he shakes his head again - this time in resignation. ]
[ So they're hanging onto the hope of a success they don't even know they'll get. Had the Exarch made her privy to his experience— that would have instantly been compared to the journey he made to the First— where even he was the result of a chance that was taken to change time. To save a life above all others, so that many others could be saved.
But she doesn't know the Exarch's mission— she knows Emet-Selch's now.
She's quiet, then, letting his disappointment and words linger, for she can sense them to be so. And after a while, she lifts her gaze back to him. While she can't condone the outcome— it's still...
It's still something he believes in so strongly that they'd work across ages and ages of time to reach it. It's no wonder he's so miserable now. ]
You said... there are still others remaining to continue what you left, that time we spoke.
[ So their work isn't over. ]
... how did you fail? Was it the Warrior of Light? But— if they're on the "Source"... it wouldn't make sense for them to be able to go to the First... would it? Incidentally...
[ This is important to her. ]
The Warrior of Light on your Source... are they a hyuran midlander man, by any chance?
No. The Warrior of Light I know is a male Miqo'te. A Seeker of the Sun I believe. [ He taps his cheek. ] They have the markings on their face, yes? [ Why are so many of you cat people anyway? ] The Exarch brought him to the First in order to avert the next calamity. Curse his meddling...
[ But most of all, curse his own foolish pride and sentiment which brought about his downfall and the end to their carefully crafted plan. He should have turned his back and left them there on that mountain. They would have succumbed to the Light eventually. Why could he have not just let things be...
(He knows why.)
Clicking his tongue, he sweeps his arms out in the universal gesture for 'to hell with this shite'. ]
You would like to know how I failed? I invited him to the ruins of Amaurot deep beneath the seas of Kholusia on the First shard, intending to give him a place where he could complete his transformation into the greatest, most terrible Light Warden of Norvrandt with dignity. I showed him the Final Days of our city - to him and the meddlesome Scions who had followed him there, bade him demonstrate his strength to me one last time against the horrors which had torn our star apart. He triumphed somehow, though it strained his already fracturing soul. Yet when it seemed as though he would finally succumb to the Light, he mustered the strength to stand and challenge me there, as the sky rained fire upon the dying remnants of our world.
[ Hissing through his teeth, his arms drop to his sides. ] The cursed Exarch, who should have been too injured to stand let alone crawl to where we were, then summoned heroes from across the remaining worlds to aid his cause. We fought - one of the Scions attempted to trap my soul with a piece of auracite when he judged me weakened. Hah! As if one could contain me. I shattered it of course, but in that time the Warrior had readied a blade of Light using all that they had absorbed from their victories across the shard.
[ His fists clench. He looks away with a scowl. ]
Well, faced with that much Light, even a creature of Darkness such as myself could not withstand it. And thus yet another Ascian is vanquished. Now only our Emissary remains, along with however many fragments of our followers yet survive. When he is gone, Hydaelyn's triumph will be complete - and we will be nothing more than villains consigned to the pages of history.
[ Even she finds it mildly amusing that his Warrior of Light is a miqo'te as well. At one point, there were only miqo'te Warriors of Light here, which makes her wonder about her own.
She's seen him in person— sent him on a trip to pick up a nameday cake of all things! But as Emet-Selch continues to speak, she finds herself both confused and intrigued. She hasn't heard a lot of these names, but the Exarch did tell her that the First was not the same as what she now knows is The Source.
At this point, a vision does erupt in her head— the familiar hammer of her heartbeat echoing in her ears— but the resonance of his memories seems to be enough to trigger it. She steels herself for it— it hurts her, and she suddenly staggers, trying to push her feet into the ground as she stills.
Stop— stop, I don't want to see this!! She yells in her head, but what does show itself is brief. ]
A starry, endless sky, and the bodies of what she somehow makes out as companions to the Warrior of Light being flung back.
It's pure chaos, and Emet-Selch's upset and anger seems to be more palpable than ever. She can't tell if it's desperation or rage at this point, but he seems to be tired, determined and disappointed... and she can make out the figure of a man— a miqo'te who is struggling, choking the way she saw Lyna suffering in the Exarch's nightmare.
Yet his companions fight— knowing they're failing, yet still...
( Of course they'd all fight back, Emmy... why would you expect otherwise? Maybe this was one of the things that had to happen, too. )
It's not clear at all, what happens next— there's light, bright and strong— she hears, and she sees Emet-Selch there, suddenly looking shocked, asking "Why are you in this place—"
When she turns, wondering what he means— she makes out the shape of the Warrior of Light, now a silhouette of miqo'te ears, a figure standing forth, but before she can focus, she hears another voice. The Exarch's, clear as day—and there he is, looking shattered and weakened— yet summoning....
( "Let expanse contract, let eon become instant—" )
Whatever he does summons pillars of light from the ground, and Emet-Selch looks beyond frustrated and resigned at this point.
"Very well. Let us proceed to your final judgment—!!"
No sooner had he spoken, though, that the vision ends in a burst of light that nearly make her eyes well up again—
Ghhh...!!
[ It takes all her effort to not stumble forward there, her ears flattening over the back of her head as she releases a tight gasp. She keeps her eyes closed, shaking her head as she tries to focus. Her eyes widen as she opens them and she grimaces, blinking a few times to refocus. ]
Final judgment...
[ She says feebly, before shaking her head. She knows he'll ask what she saw. She may as well tell him. ]
That's what I heard you say before it ended.
[ There's too much of a resonating noise, and she looks up at him, pained and sad. ]
... you looked like you knew what was coming, and you still... wanted to keep going?
[ She obviously hasn't seen him as Hades, else she'd obviously have a different reaction. She tries to straighten herself up, moving a hand over her chest to calm her heart. ]
And I thought I was bad for sending my Warrior of Light for a cake... yet he'd go against everything, even against someone as powerful as you. To protect... everything.
[ With a breath, she looks up at him. ]
Yet it meant losing you, Emmy. An ancient. All that knowledge you have— I know you'll say this was what you had to do, but was there really no other way?
He gives her a flat look while she staggers under the effects of another Echo-induced vision. When will they ever learn to control it? He stiffens when she utters those words, thinking that perhaps she had also heard his real name. But no...it seems not. Thankfully.
He breaks into a short bout of bitter laughter. ]
My knowledge? Not a single one of those fools were the least bit interested in what I knew beyond what suited their agendas. None save the Warrior of Light, who pestered me with questions before every venture.
[ He sobers and is quiet for a few moments, staring at his feet, arms folding tightly across his chest. ] Apart from him, you and Felih are the only ones to think of asking after what I know. I regret not telling him more.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ She is free to walk right into the city model as well since none of it has a physical presence. He will remain at the fringes of the sprawling metropolis, gazing at it with a pinch of longing while she takes her pictures.
At her prompting, he points out a building some ways from the tallest landmark. It lights up briefly for her benefit. Another building, a short distance from the Bureau and distinctly apartment-like, also lights up. ]
The Bureau of the Architect. I was granted residence nearby.
[ He pauses, thinking, then points out the Capitol building. ] We would convene here, I and the rest of the Fourteen, to discuss matters of import. 'Tis but a short walk away from Akademia Anyder, our most esteemed place of learning and creation, overseen by those given the honour of the title of Lahabrea.
no subject
She does seem to be completely fascinated as she steps around. ]
Lahabrea... huh, that was the name— erm, title of the person you were irritated at in that vision I saw.
[ With this being a place that existed beyond time, having been the home of creation even before any of them... ]
What did you all look like in here, then? A fancy place like this would have to have some fancy form of dress, right? Something sharp and stylish!
[ She's trying to imagine it now! ]
no subject
The citizens would wear plain white masks. The Convocation wore red so that they could be identified.
no subject
Wait, but. How would you tell anyone apart like that? From the non-Convocation people?
[ She blinks a few times, moving over and around to look him over. It's so... plain. But she does, at least, make an attempt to figure it out. ]
So... you have this wonderfully stylish place but you all moved around looking the same? Was it some kind of uniform, then?
no subject
Shutting his eyes for a few moments, he takes a few meditative breaths and lets them out slowly. His response, even after that, is clipped and restrained. ]
A uniform? No. 'Tis as much our cultural garb as whatever it is you Miqo'te wear.
[ He snaps his fingers and conjures several generic figures in a line outside Amaurot's sprawl: one member of each of Hydaelyn's races with random genders, bearing different clothing to mark out their professions. ]
Tell me: what would you think of each of these people if you met them? Generalisations are fine.
no subject
So, she turns to look at the generic figures, her ears lifting as she examines them. ]
What would I think..?
[ That they're just how people are? They have their professions and identities... but she has a feeling she'll be learning soon enough on where this goes. So she circles around them. ]
In general? They're just people presenting themselves with unique identifiers. The elezen here looks like he's a weaver. This one looks like a rich merchant. He's ostentatious! And this hyur looks like she's seen better days, but seems to be very into her art from the apron with paint on it.
[ Generalizations. But she turns to look over at him. ]
But that's what I think they do. It doesn't necessarily make them what their appearances show them to be, aye?
[ So... she tilts her head. ]
If that's your cultural garb... would that mean you all dressed the same, because you didn't want people assuming things about what you offered?
no subject
Correct. These masks the Convocation wore are only distinct because they are recognition of the unique talents and skills we nurtured or happened to be born with. We were all paragons of our respective fields.
[ He crosses his arms, taking a moment to settle his thoughts. If she is going to make the effort to listen then the least he can do is give her level answers. ]
For example... I was born with the ability to perceive aether in its truest form. There are few magicks or souls able to escape my gaze. This is how I repaired your materia, how I would be able to perceive you for who you truly are even if you were to don an entirely different mortal shell.
It was for this singular talent that I was granted the honour of becoming the next Emet-Selch.
no subject
Huh. That's actually smart. ]
Bloody amazing... I think I follow. By donning those robes, your people didn't let anyone think themselves above the other. The Convocation acknowledged you as being able to do something far more and had you take on the title of Emet-Selch... but you still maintained that equality.
[ She smiles, hands moving together in front of her in a pleased clap. ]
Emmy, that's brilliant! That way no one would want to fight each other. No wonder you wouldn't need weapons! And that ability... so you'd be able to see ghosts? Ah! You'll have to tell me about it proper soon! Though—
[ Wait. She turns back to look at him, her questions lingering on the forefront of her mind. ]
If you gained the title of Emet-Selch, what were you called before then? Didn't you have a birth name? And— your home. What was it called?
[ They had to have had a name for some place this wonderful looking. ]
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Ah...
[ That's right, he hasn't mentioned its name to her yet, has he? He turns back to the ghostly city, laid out on the floor of the rooftop. The only life it has is in his memories now. ]
...It was called Amaurot.
[ He pointedly ignores her query about his name. She is far from having earnt that privilege. ]
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Maybe it's because of the vision she had the first time she met, for there was a resonance in their thoughts— but the very name, "Amaurot", makes her stop and mouth it as though she was waiting for him to say it- she's not sure what happens then. It was a feeling that had been lingering when she first saw the city, having wanted to look at it closely as she viewed it, but now, with the name...
It was somewhere in her memories, the Echo likely having drawn it from when she experienced his memories, but it doesn't feel that strange.
Something about it feels nostalgic. ]
Amaurot.
[ She repeats, now that she's not echoing him, a hand moving to over her chest as she tries to reconcile why she's feeling that— she has absolutely no connection to this place, after all. And yet... ]
Call me crazy, but I feel like I knew that.
[ She says honestly— her ears flicking sheepishly as she looks at the glowing city ]
... what happened to it? You don't have to answer now if it's too painful. It's just...
[ She feels odd, all of a sudden, like she's afraid of learning. ]
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...It has been several thousand years since it fell.
[ Yet it still hurts. Having to live in the shattered remnants of their star while the lesser races tore each reflection apart for resources or blind hate is like having a barb lodged and driven into one's skin. A painful, constant reminder of their loss.
He has told the tale several times now to different people. He relives the horror every night when he cannot help but fall asleep. The irregular rest is taking a visible toll on him, as she has noticed. ]
It was destroyed. Our own people destroyed it - in their fear and paranoia, the citizens manifested horrific beasts from their own imaginations and those beasts laid waste to the city. 'Twas the same all across the star - Amaurot was amongst the last to fall.
[ As he speaks, the aetherial diorama glows a hellish orange. Miniature therions and other, unfamiliar beasts descend upon Amaurot, burning and razing every building. Skyscrapers toppled and broke upon the slender walkways below, leaving behind ugly, twisted skeletons of a formerly elegant city. All that is missing are the bodies of the dead. ]
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Well, maybe she should look into bothering him a little bit about it, very soon.
Because what he says makes her pale and the sight of it being ravaged makes her step back in horror, eyes wide as she watches the beautiful space suddenly start to fall apart. The monsters— whatever these creatures are, make her feel sick to see, and she turns to look at Emet-Selch in confusion. ]
Fear and paranoia? Of what? What could have possibly triggered something so horrible?
[ Even if this is just an illusion, she starts feeling a sinking feeling in her chest— for him to have to talk about this at all...
She feels bad for having had to ask but already, seeing just this much was enough to make her fascinated by the place... what did he go through, as being someone who actually lived there? ]
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Even now we do not know. By all reports it began with a sound, resonating deep within the star. The outer settlements were the first to go silent. There were reports of creation magicks running unchecked. As this knowledge was disseminated, the people began to formulate wild theories as to the cause, leading to further spontaneous creations, dead townships, and fear.
As Amaurot collapsed around us, we - the Convocation - summoned Zodiark using the lives of half of the survivors. He rewrote the laws of reality and finally put an end to our calamity.
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The mention of summoning Zodiark reminds her how shaken she was on learning that Zodiark- and Hydaelyn were primals, and she closes her fingers into her palm as she looks at the bow vanishing images of Amaurot. She's quiet for a bit, before looking up at him. ]
You... used the lives... of your own people...
[ Again, this is tough for her to follow, though she does try. ]
You've mentioned the conflict between Hydaelyn and Zodiark... though, I don't understand. If half the survivors lives were used to summon Zodiark, wouldn't a summoning temper those that were in a primal's thrall? At least... that's been my understanding of the primals the beastmen summon.
[ He told her before that they were summoned the same way primals on their home were. She looks back at the rooftop before turning back to watch him. ]
... what happened after your home was gone? What happened to the other ancients?
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Our star was dying, [ he says flatly. ] The calamity had rendered it lifeless. Think of how many crystals it takes for some paltry spawn like Ifrit to be brought into being. Where, do you think, we could have sourced the aether required to bring forth our final, greatest creation if not from ourselves?
[ He rests a hand over his breast, where the heart (and soul) beats. ] They gladly gave their lives so that our people might live on. The Convocation - less the lone individual who stepped down from their seat - had been the one to perform the rite of imbuing the star with its will, thus it was we alone who were tempered by our god when He came into being.
[ His hand drops back to his side. He glances briefly at his mask, sighs, and waves it back to his apartment below. ]
The events which followed, I have already told you. During the battle between Them, Hydaelyn's blow struck at the heart of our deity, our star, and all were divided into the Source and its ten and three reflections. Zodiark was silenced, as was Her purpose. It mattered not who one had lent their voice to: all were sundered except for myself, Lahabrea, and Elidibus.
[ He meets her eyes directly and points at her face. ] Which is to say, every single one of you can trace your lineage back to the fragments of our surviving people. You, and the rest of the sorry mortals which populate the shards, are all that remain of them.
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She... doesn't feel any of what he's saying in regards to herself being even a fragment of what he's claimed these ancients were. If they were sundered as he says, then it's unlikely she ever would. The only connection she's even had to anything this great is through him and the fleeting fragments of visions she saw with his memories.
Visions brought upon through a blessing that... comes from a primal, apparently.
And yet, it still hurts to hear of it, even if she hasn't lived through the length of time he has. She's faced loss, why wouldn't she understand at least that much?
Her ears droop visibly, before she realizes her cheeks are wet and her eyes widen before she quickly looks aside and touches her face with her fingers. She's not one to cry openly— it took her a whole twelvesdamned year to cry in this place at all. So this sudden show of tears is as much of a surprise to her as it might be to anyone here. ]
... I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't— but it's still...
[ She quickly looks aside, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hands and trying to keep her voice level. He asked her not to give unsolicited pity and here she is doing just that... has this place just worn on her that much? ]
Suppose I'll have to think twice before I think of myself as being any form of insignificant, aye? N-not that an amazing Radiant Matriarch like myself could be anything less—
[ There's the feeblest attempt at humour there, a bit self-deprecating and yet— she sighs and looks back with a concerned look. ]
But .. if you weren't sundered...and you were the only ones tempered—
[ She meets his gaze now, her own growing thoughtful despite the obvious sadness she's feeling. ]
... then all this time, what've you been trying to achieve? If we are fragments of your people, then... what is your purpose now? After all of this, it can't just be something as black and white as you wanting the complete end of humanity as it is now, for example. What good would that do for you all?
[ She realizes it's a stupid example, but considering their world has constantly been in a state of the Warrior of Light protecting them from the denizens of the dark... surely he'd understand why she uses that example. ]
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We don't want you dead. When have we ever targeted you with the express purpose of driving you to extinction? Our purpose is to sow enough chaos to bring about a calamity - not to destroy our own star!
[ He's rather tired of this misconception. Every single gods-damned hero who pits themselves against them seems to labour under the mistaken impression that they just want everything and everyone dead.
Well, he will grant that those on the thirteen shards certainly do cease to be, but it's the Source which he has only ever been concerned with. The pieces live on through them anyway once their souls rejoin. ]
What would be the point in killing all of you after we sacrificed so many to save our world?
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[ She did just say it can't be just that, after all. Though the mention of bringing about a calamity... her ears droop as she stares at him. ]
Sow enough chaos..? The last major calamity we had was Dalamud, and even that was circumvented. Somehow... I was very young when it occurred.
[ They'd also escaped Eorzea around then, not having stayed there very long. She lifts her hands to make a "easy there" gesture, before she circles around in front of him. ]
With everything you've told me, it'd be stupid to imagine that's your purpose— but what does bringing about a calamity do for you? For Zodiark?
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The overwhelming elemental surge which accompanies each calamity is echoed upon one of the shards. This forces the shard to collapse, whereupon it is absorbed by the Source. It is a delicate feat to accomplish. Tipping the balance too far results in a dead, useless world, as we learnt from the void we accidentally made of the Thirteenth. Thus Dalamud was exactly as devastating as it needed to be. I was the one who guided the Allagans towards the idea after all, and later ordered Garlemald's research into it as emperor.
[ And sometimes, one had to let the forces of good stop such power from spiralling out of control. Despite his complaints that Elidibus fretted overly much, their Emissary played as important a role as the rest of them in ensuring the did not repeat the mistake of the Thirteenth. ]
Each calamity is a Rejoining. With each Rejoining, Zodiark is one shard closer to His resurrection.
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That the Ascians have already wholly destroyed one shard...
And yet, he's speaking of balance, while ultimately working towards what will inevitably... ]
How many rejoinings have occurred so far...?
[ And... ]
... what happens when Zodiark is whole? To us... even to you?
[ He still hasn't mentioned that. ]
Are you trying to bring those that were lost to you back? The ones who were sacrificed, and not sundered? Is that even possible?
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[ He shrugs, shoulders slumping. He feels inexplicably tired again and bereft of hope. He's dead now - what does their grand plan matter? ]
Seven shards have rejoined the Source. Had I succeeded on the First... [ Hesitation. He's aware that the Exarch is here and that details could inevitably filter back to the man. Exhaling, he shakes his head again - this time in resignation. ]
Had I succeeded, 'twould have been eight.
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But she doesn't know the Exarch's mission— she knows Emet-Selch's now.
She's quiet, then, letting his disappointment and words linger, for she can sense them to be so. And after a while, she lifts her gaze back to him. While she can't condone the outcome— it's still...
It's still something he believes in so strongly that they'd work across ages and ages of time to reach it. It's no wonder he's so miserable now. ]
You said... there are still others remaining to continue what you left, that time we spoke.
[ So their work isn't over. ]
... how did you fail? Was it the Warrior of Light? But— if they're on the "Source"... it wouldn't make sense for them to be able to go to the First... would it? Incidentally...
[ This is important to her. ]
The Warrior of Light on your Source... are they a hyuran midlander man, by any chance?
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Why are so many of you cat people anyway?] The Exarch brought him to the First in order to avert the next calamity. Curse his meddling...[ But most of all, curse his own foolish pride and sentiment which brought about his downfall and the end to their carefully crafted plan. He should have turned his back and left them there on that mountain. They would have succumbed to the Light eventually. Why could he have not just let things be...
(He knows why.)
Clicking his tongue, he sweeps his arms out in the universal gesture for 'to hell with this shite'. ]
You would like to know how I failed? I invited him to the ruins of Amaurot deep beneath the seas of Kholusia on the First shard, intending to give him a place where he could complete his transformation into the greatest, most terrible Light Warden of Norvrandt with dignity. I showed him the Final Days of our city - to him and the meddlesome Scions who had followed him there, bade him demonstrate his strength to me one last time against the horrors which had torn our star apart. He triumphed somehow, though it strained his already fracturing soul. Yet when it seemed as though he would finally succumb to the Light, he mustered the strength to stand and challenge me there, as the sky rained fire upon the dying remnants of our world.
[ Hissing through his teeth, his arms drop to his sides. ] The cursed Exarch, who should have been too injured to stand let alone crawl to where we were, then summoned heroes from across the remaining worlds to aid his cause. We fought - one of the Scions attempted to trap my soul with a piece of auracite when he judged me weakened. Hah! As if one could contain me. I shattered it of course, but in that time the Warrior had readied a blade of Light using all that they had absorbed from their victories across the shard.
[ His fists clench. He looks away with a scowl. ]
Well, faced with that much Light, even a creature of Darkness such as myself could not withstand it. And thus yet another Ascian is vanquished. Now only our Emissary remains, along with however many fragments of our followers yet survive. When he is gone, Hydaelyn's triumph will be complete - and we will be nothing more than villains consigned to the pages of history.
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She's seen him in person— sent him on a trip to pick up a nameday cake of all things! But as Emet-Selch continues to speak, she finds herself both confused and intrigued. She hasn't heard a lot of these names, but the Exarch did tell her that the First was not the same as what she now knows is The Source.
At this point, a vision does erupt in her head— the familiar hammer of her heartbeat echoing in her ears— but the resonance of his memories seems to be enough to trigger it. She steels herself for it— it hurts her, and she suddenly staggers, trying to push her feet into the ground as she stills.
Stop— stop, I don't want to see this!! She yells in her head, but what does show itself is brief. ]
A starry, endless sky, and the bodies of what she somehow makes out as companions to the Warrior of Light being flung back.
It's pure chaos, and Emet-Selch's upset and anger seems to be more palpable than ever. She can't tell if it's desperation or rage at this point, but he seems to be tired, determined and disappointed... and she can make out the figure of a man— a miqo'te who is struggling, choking the way she saw Lyna suffering in the Exarch's nightmare.
Yet his companions fight— knowing they're failing, yet still...
( Of course they'd all fight back, Emmy... why would you expect otherwise? Maybe this was one of the things that had to happen, too. )
It's not clear at all, what happens next— there's light, bright and strong— she hears, and she sees Emet-Selch there, suddenly looking shocked, asking "Why are you in this place—"
When she turns, wondering what he means— she makes out the shape of the Warrior of Light, now a silhouette of miqo'te ears, a figure standing forth, but before she can focus, she hears another voice. The Exarch's, clear as day—and there he is, looking shattered and weakened— yet summoning....
( "Let expanse contract, let eon become instant—" )
Whatever he does summons pillars of light from the ground, and Emet-Selch looks beyond frustrated and resigned at this point.
"Very well. Let us proceed to your final judgment—!!"
No sooner had he spoken, though, that the vision ends in a burst of light that nearly make her eyes well up again—
Ghhh...!!
[ It takes all her effort to not stumble forward there, her ears flattening over the back of her head as she releases a tight gasp. She keeps her eyes closed, shaking her head as she tries to focus. Her eyes widen as she opens them and she grimaces, blinking a few times to refocus. ]
Final judgment...
[ She says feebly, before shaking her head. She knows he'll ask what she saw. She may as well tell him. ]
That's what I heard you say before it ended.
[ There's too much of a resonating noise, and she looks up at him, pained and sad. ]
... you looked like you knew what was coming, and you still... wanted to keep going?
[ She obviously hasn't seen him as Hades, else she'd obviously have a different reaction. She tries to straighten herself up, moving a hand over her chest to calm her heart. ]
And I thought I was bad for sending my Warrior of Light for a cake... yet he'd go against everything, even against someone as powerful as you. To protect... everything.
[ With a breath, she looks up at him. ]
Yet it meant losing you, Emmy. An ancient. All that knowledge you have— I know you'll say this was what you had to do, but was there really no other way?
[ She sighs. ]
... do you regret the way things went?
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He gives her a flat look while she staggers under the effects of another Echo-induced vision. When will they ever learn to control it? He stiffens when she utters those words, thinking that perhaps she had also heard his real name. But no...it seems not. Thankfully.
He breaks into a short bout of bitter laughter. ]
My knowledge? Not a single one of those fools were the least bit interested in what I knew beyond what suited their agendas. None save the Warrior of Light, who pestered me with questions before every venture.
[ He sobers and is quiet for a few moments, staring at his feet, arms folding tightly across his chest. ] Apart from him, you and Felih are the only ones to think of asking after what I know. I regret not telling him more.
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cw: implied suicidal thoughts
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