voidtreckerexpress | tis truly a terrible weight.

Entry tags:

tis truly a terrible weight.

Who: Emet-Selch and open!
Where: All around the train
When: Across the month
What: Sad man is extra sad this month
Warnings: Possible references to death and lots of murder and people being dead.

1. GARDENS.

Emet-Selch has a particular fondness for the garden, with all the work that he has put into it recently. That does not mean he is going to enjoy himself in the middle of it, however, especially given who he is.

The last month has not been particularly kind to him and it shows in the way he rests, one leg up, wrist leaning on his knee and a sour expression to colour the rest of him. He does not look like a man who is pleased to be on the train as much as he has been, and he seems to be spending most of his time staring off into the distance.

For being right by the pond there is no interaction, no enjoyment of the plants and flowers: he just stares, face as stony as the rest of the garden, and he only glances up if someone comes nearby.

2. LIBRARIES.

The place where Emet-Selch has spent the most of his time is clear-cut and obvious to those that know him - the theatre and the library. His fondness of the arts was a well known thing for the ilk of his world, but that does not mean he is a particularly kind or generous library guest, especially when it comes to sharing.

There are moments where almost every waking hour of the month he can be found sitting in the corner, a book open and his fingers splayed along its back, eyes skimming and moving along the pages as if he reads faster than people breathe, which is a novel thing in itself.

He's mostly reading the educational books, spending a few hours on the flora and fauna documentation, but there are rare times where he might be found flicking through a fiction book of all genres, head tilted and chin resting on his fingers.

He doesn't look bored, necessarily, but it's clear that no matter what he is reading there is something on his mind.

3. WILDCARD

( Feel free to literally find him anywhere else, to PM/DM me for something or just go for whatever!! )

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Emet-Selch does not know what to do with the sudden recollection of nothing short of agony, so he does the only thing he can imagine to do - he finds the person who might well be able to understand on a level that no one else can.

He doesn't invite Elidibus to come and sit with him so much as force it, practically glaring the other down until the two of them are settled in one of the quiet carriage rooms, Emet-Selch with his arms crossed against his chest and seeming more like an irritated, petulant child than the upset and despairing man that he truly is. He's never wanted to share his own upset and hurt with other Ascians, especially not now when he had been alone for so long, but it seems it is something he cannot prevent.

It would likely not be long until Pahja told on him to Elidibus either way, intentional or not, so he sees fit to dance around it until he is able to say it aloud and the truth can be dragged out of him.

Eventually, he leans forward, his expression sour for a moment, his eyes creeping over his fellow's face.

"... Did you end up trapped in those caves?"

Trapped may be a strong term when it comes to Elidibus. He went in willingly with a basic idea of what might happen.

But so is saying that he was forced to sit with Emet-Selch when his peer came to find him. It had taken little to 'force' the Emissary to join him in the quiet carriage room. Though he'd simply complied and seemed to bow under the force of Emet-Selch's glare, it was probably obvious that Elidibus is not fooled by the outward facade.

Once they settled, he waits patiently. No food or drink was brought or conjured and that is probably to be expected. Their meetings had long eschewed social niceties, even if their respective vessels were mortal enough. Besides, what would food and drink be but more distraction? More delay in addressing why they're here.

Ah. The recent hunt for memories and the price paid for entering the caverns on Jema'grethy. Brief emotion may play across Elidibus's expression. He closes his eyes once and opens them again.

"Yes, I entered the labyrinth. An unfortunate necessity for the aim of our efforts."

He likely means the group who sought out the train's memories within. It last only a moment then, but Elidibus diverts his gaze, his thoughts momentarily returning to what he might have witnessed then. Of others memories... and his own.

He is still hard pressed on whether he'd found more solace- in having any memories to appear at all- or grief in what he'd witnessed.

If Elidibus truly did not desire to move around and talk with Emet-Selch he could simply leave, and that is foremost in Emet-Selch's mind as he settles down and does his best to make himself comfortable.

It was easier to find some comfort here now that he is back in his own proper clothing, finding the familiar to ease some of the tension that presses down on his shoulders. There's a disconnect to it, a strangeness that makes him want to tap his fingers at the same time as tearing things to shreds, his emotional comfort with being on the train somewhat destroyed.

He had imagined it wouldn't effect him too much, being here and being forced to 'help, but he has been proven wrong.

It does sting his pride to think that he should have listened to Elidibus, that he ought to have paid more attention to what the other people had told him, but hindsight is often the most revealing of things. Coming face to face with his own demons, in almost a literal sense, has done enough to his arrogance that it has been put aside, at least for now, especially in the wake of the company he has sought.

Elidibus makes it sound very simple, very easy, as if there was no thought or concern to be had with it - and Emet-Selch cannot say the same, especially if the sour look on his face is anything to go by.

"And? What occurred when you ventured forth?"

Envy isn't an emotion Elidibus feels strongly. Yet perhaps he wouldn't mind the freedom to dress in far more familiar attire. And there had probably been a long glance over Emet-Selch when he'd first appeared after obtaining the robes, though nothing said.

He'd probably already explained his reasoning not to change out of the train's standard clothing (barring a few exceptions) while donning the appearance of Ardbert. It was neither Ascian robes on a dear friend of the Warriors of Light nor fully Ardbert's attire. And thus it was an offering of compromise to add sincerity to his offered truce.

Still it would be nice, wouldn't it? Other than the few times he slipped out of the body to hide from the train's majority anyway.

The truth of the matter is that it was neither simple nor easy for Elidibus to enter the caves. Even in the company of a peer and old friend, he's too used to holding his personal feelings in check; not the least whether he finds it easy to express them at all.

But the Emissary recognizes the disturbance underneath Emet-Selch's caustic exterior. And he understands it now on a level he might not have been known for before. After a moment's study of the other man's expression and a brief time to think about how he'll word his answer, Elidibus quietly replies. Slowly. As if the truths were somewhat... difficult to admit.

"There was a conversation with Lahabrea and Igeyorhm before the Final Days. It was... is a little more clearer now. Where before it had become a tattered fragment, soon to be lost like all the others."

Yet he'd managed to cling to what was left for ten thousand years. Seeing it brought to life in the cavern had been a mix of sorrow, of joy. Perhaps not guilt for that would have implied he had regret over offering himself as the first sacrifice, but remorse had been, even is, present.

Though Elidibus does close his eyes a moment, just maybe to hide what might be read in his gaze.

"Flashes of moments when I journeyed to the moon, whether to conspire or seek communion with Lord Zodiark. And... my defeat at the hands of the Warrior of Light and the trap his ally sprung in those final moments."

By now the Ascian has opened his eyes once again to regard Emet-Selch. "There are still many gaps. And it seems not even this labyrinth could easily pierce the void."

It did find fragments, made a few things more solid. But that was painful in its own way. Knowing exactly what was lost. Finding the gaping maw of nothing still far more vast than the warmth of his brethren and knowledge of him and themselves, locked in a string of glowing constellations.

"What of you?" he then asks. Elidibus seems to remain strong, if nothing more than as if to ensure Emet-Selch that he is more than willing to set aside his own personal stake in their latest foray to address his comrade's distress.

"Will you speak about it?" Not 'do you wish to'. Whether this is about Emet-Selch wanting to or not (and if the possibility didn't exist, then Emet-Selch wouldn't have been so forceful in getting Elidibus to come with him in the first place), it's probably best to leave the question with a way out.

How difficult would Emet-Selch be if he suddenly felt he was being cornered, after all?

The other Asicans were not akin to him in all ways and Emet-Selch is aware of that, familiar with the notion of being close and yet separate. He has kept himself, his mind, his memories, and his heart is burdened so with the knowledge of all that had been taken from them. Perhaps there had been some relief in the loss of memories, to not know what they were so desperate to cling to, to repair.

It is difficult to admit things, even to Elidibus, someone who might well understand better than others. He doesn't want to say more than he ought, fearful of betraying his soul and his thoughts and his heart altogether. It is too much.

Watching Elidibus is easier than thinking too much of himself, and that makes it easier, in some ways.

"I understand the desire, then, to relive things once taken. It makes a special kind of sense for you to seek those memories where I do not."

Emet-Selch had kept his memories, after all, for all that they ache and pain him now. Leaning back, he forces himself to remain calm, to remain measured despite how much he hurts from the suddenness of the memories. He doesn't know what to do other than look over at Elidibus and try to not betray himself.

Waving a hand, he huffs a little noise.

"Myself and the Warrior of Light bore witness to the final days. She was present to witness it all."

Which is, perhaps, another reason he is so frustrated and on edge - his displeasure at her being there in a way that she was not meant to be.

There might have been a slight nod to acknowledge that desire had been... part of Elidibus's motives on entering the cave. True he'd never neglect his duty (even if these matters of the train were something he imposed on himself rather than his calling as Elidibus) but he wouldn't deny to Emet-Selch in this moment that he'd had in a sense welcomed the experience. For better or worse.

As the other Ascian keeps a tight rein on his turmoil even in such equal company, so too does Elidibus.

He doesn't ask after which of the two female variations of the Warrior of Light on the train had been with Emet-Selch at the time. As far as Elidibus was aware there was one whom Emet-Selch would acknowledge as 'his' Warrior of Light. And as presumptuous as it might be to think the other is like himself in this regard, who would have had as much impact more than the visage of one's personal representative?

Certainly, Elidibus himself regards and treats the Warriors of Light on the Voidtrecker Express far differently than he would should he end up being faced with his own at any time.

It is in this way he muses over the matter. Closing his eyes and pondering how he would feel to have a fragmented piece of someone he knew as a whole person once, standing beside him in face of the Final Days. Of course, he still wasn't certain he had known Azem so well. Just that he was once close to all of the Convocation. But that person and the Warrior of Light; they were as indelibly different as they were linked.

His head bows. And while he opens his eyes, Elidibus doesn't at first look up as he begins to speak. "I don't know if it's my place to personally speak on this matter as one who actively sent the Warrior of Light to our past to secure our star's future."

And in all likelihood had Elidibus's counterpart in Emet-Selch's reality been the one who had done so for Pahja. The connection had been made and he would not have been able to tell what the Warrior of Light would have borne witness to after all.

Elidibus looks up, intending to meet Emet-Selch's gaze. Piercing and clear, as ever when he had insight to offer. Or a question that seems to aim for the heart of the matter to easily.

"Did it trouble you the Warrior of Light was there to witness a personal memory? Or that she was already gone?" Does he need to clarify that the 'she' did not really refer to Pahja? Did that memory come from the Final Days after Azem had left the Convocation in protest of their decision?

It's not as if Emet-Selch hasn't walked Pahja Nyancoya through a narrated memory of the Final Days before after all. Though if Elidibus did follow that particular stream of aether to witness his comrade's final battle with her and her allies, he does not admit it... or see the need to say so aloud.

It's not as though Eldibus can be blamed for his desires, when Emet-Selch is near certain that he might do the same were he bereft of his own memories once again. What had been taken from him all those years before had been returned when he had slipped back into the Lifestream, but had more been taken and he had a hope of them being given back? He might well spend hours in the caves.

It is simply unfortunate that he had been forced to witness something painful, as though his very heart itself had been ripped out of his chest and shredded by blades.

Waving a hand, Emet-Selch tries to muster some form of word without snapping into pieces once again.

"In the end it was the correct choice to make. The Warrior was as necessary in the past as she was to the future, when all was said and done. She had a part to play in both."

Looking over, their eyes meet for a moment and Emet-Selch finds himself near enough to smiling. They are friends of a sort, he supposes, after their conversations, and there is less ire and frustration to be found in him now - he is softer around the edge rather than on guard, which he supposes is a leap in some ways.

"I was troubled in a great deal of ways," Emet-Selch says finally, his voice low and quiet. "I had no desire for her to see it, to bear witness to me seeing that once again and feeling that level of anguish. It was not for her to see and yet it was done all the same - because this place is a nightmare in all forms."

Then he scowls.

"Speaking of it and truly showing it are two vastly different things."

It's still good to hear that what should have been his final decision would ultimately prove to be the correct one for the sake of their world. Maybe not their dream of the past, but...

But this wasn't about that small feeling he gets when this has been mentioned. Nor is it, exactly, about his take on experiences in the memory cave. Nor really about Elidibus or the developing friendship between the two of them as they are now. Though... there is a look of mild surprise that crosses his features briefly when he realizes that softness in Emet-Selch's manner is there because of him. And perhaps he is a bit flustered then.

But Elidibus focuses on the words his colleague offers. Insight to the distress the cave's experience caused Emet-Selch. Particularly those last.

'Speaking of it and truly showing it are two vastly different things.'

They are. And Elidibus can comprehend more than he might have scant months ago by his reckoning. When all that drove him was duty and the singular goal they'd worked so long for. The Ascian closes his eyes, waits to see if the other has reached a conclusion for now, and then speaks again.

"I myself would not welcome such vulnerability." One might say he had a moment not too long ago wherein he'd been drawn back to the train on his demise after sending the Warrior of Light to the past. He'd kept himself withdrawn and yet... people had sought him out since he'd not been around. And hiding on a train when you barely have enough aether to spark a flame? So very difficult.

But Emet-Selch had arrived on the next platform. Even if they were from different realities and hesitant about one's reaction to the other... it'd given a surprising rush of relief amidst all the other emotion.

"...This is ultimately a cage, and few such places are ever kind. Yet to have it add to the horrors we have known for millennia, for all our jailer may not intend with its requests is further cruelty. Even if we may share blame in this particular nightmare's making."

By going in the cave at all. But were either of them going to trust mortals (or unknown 'peers' in longevity) to handle it as well as they? Likely not whatever lessons have been learned. And even if only for the fact that adding their number to the hunt would only increase the chance of results.

Opening his eyes once more, Elidibus fixes Emet-Selch with a determined look.

"I can give you counsel or continue to listen. But if you were to wish it, know I would help you deal with the matter in whatever way you see fit."

A weighty offer, implying that even if it would to go against his instincts, reason or sense of duty, Elidibus would help carry out any solution Emet-Selch suggested as a way to absolve his... friend of this particular pain.

It is not like Emet-Selch to be anything less than honest, after all, and he will admit the reality of a situation even when it is not in his favour. He knows the world as it is, had borne witness to its shaping with all that he has, and there is no undoing it now - nor any desire to.

It does not ease the hurt nor the ache that is carried deep within him, but it does make him see the world in an easier light.

"I did not welcome it," he admits, scowl ever-present on his face. "I did not ask for this, to be reminded in stark colour of the losses we had faced. I did not want this to be seen by eyes other than our own, those who had seen the choices and the promises alongside the failures."

It is difficult to find any kind of joy, relief or hope when he is trapped and aching, when he has nothing but his own mind and memories to carve him into a person.

Lifting his head, looking over at Elidibus, he feels the urge to scoff, to be sour, to be as irritatingly filled with anger as he can be. The weight of grief and hurt and pain is enough to squash a weaker, lesser man, but Emet-Selch has maintained himself for eons. A few more weeks, months, years would seem like a blip in that time.

Lifting his hand, he waves it, trying to play it off.

"I would make no such demand of you. I know no means of dealing with this beyond what I have managed thus far."

That he could have the power to turn back time and have found his way to that portion of the cave and face the horror of the memory together. But such spells even for a few hours or days were no small matter; and he certainly didn't know how to reach across the voidspace to return to that world.

And it would likely have only branched another fork of possibility. Odds are it would not help the Emet-Selch of the present now. Elidibus considers the idea of reaching out to make contact with the other. Whether a hand on the shoulder or catching the hand trying to cast aside and offer a pretense of indifference and resignation. But it's dismissed as feeling appallingly calculated and foreign. Perhaps some of the others on the train could have reached out.

But surely it would feel alien coming from Elidibus of all people. But... there may just be compromise.

They'd been seated opposite one another in the booth of the quiet room more or less. Elidibus rises from his seat and steps around the table to stand by Emet-Selch's side.

"Pray make room," he asks simply. He wouldn't be so insistent to press the matter if the request- yes it is a request- is rejected. But should the other Ascian move over far enough, Elidibus will simply seat himself on the same bench seat.

Not touching, not... quite. Yet it's clearly an intention of offering support by closing the distance between them. Really, what other gesture could he make? Though one might first be surprised the Ascian is making the effort at all.

He is thinking as well. With an question to finally follow, heavy with the weight of thousands upon thousands of years.

"...In all our long journey, even to the bitter end. Did you ever have time to mourn what we lost? It's probably no surprise to know I did not. I... could not." Not just the loss of memory, but the inexorable drive born of being the heart of Lord Zodiark, and the countless people who cried to him for salvation. The souls who embodied the hope of all of them.

Well, he suspects the answer may be no in any event. Why would they mourn when they labored so much on the hope of gaining it all back?

Even if Elidibus had been there it is doubtful that Emet-Selch would have welcomed any comfort that he could offer - he would have done nothing more than turn away and bury himself in his own grief and sadness. It is a mantle he has carried alone for so long that all he can do is continue to bear that weight.

There may be nothing that can repair what has been done to him, even when the world had robbed him of what little life he had. He is an echo now, a memory, nothing more and nothing less - because he had been taken by the Warrior of Light, just as all her other enemies had been. The fact that he had fallen to her hopes was, in some ways, a relief: it meant the end of his heartache, his suffering, the pain.

He could only endure for so long.

Lifting his head, he narrows his eyes as Elidibus moves over, not knowing what to expect and preparing himself for - something. The worst, perhaps.

Shifting over, he allows him to sit down, his arms crossed over his chest, tight and uncomfortable as he glowers down at his fellow.

It has been a long time since anyone other than the noisy irritancy of Pahja had dared get so close to his body.

"I slept, and I fought, and I created chaos wherever I found the place to mould and grow it. There was no time to mourn when the world would be rebuilt, when the Rejoining would take place. Why would I mourn when it would all be undone?"

There's a tightness in his gut now, however, and he stares at the wall.

"There was no time to mourn. Only fight."

Edited 2022-07-28 12:51 (UTC)

Elidibus nods as though it was the only answer anyone would reasonably expect Emet-Selch to give. It was really the only answer. For either of them, for the Emissary had not indicated that he did not and could not just to imply some form of helplessness as an excuse no other would have.

It was to open the way to his next words. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Through the demise of the three of us who survived," Elidibus begins. He doesn't look at Emet-Selch, even as the other's head is turned away. "The future of our star will never done undone." Hydaelyn doesn't count. She never counted as her path was different, vested as it was in the future of Sundered mankind.

"Even... if I return," He technically wasn't dead, thanks to the loophole the train provided him. "There is no reason to undo my own decision." Even if he could find a way with a thousand, thousand and more years to plan and plot. But... no. With Lord Zodiark gone, that too had come to an end.

"Yes," Elidibus says. His voice sounds fainter, drifting between present and memory and careful thought. "...with this, the time of our race is ended. And we... we may mourn. This, I believe."

And grief. There is also grief, ever lingering under many words he's spoken, particularly so since Emet-Selch came to the train. Well, the timing was surprisingly kind in that sense. Only a few days since he had made his own sacrifice for the Warrior to travel back to the past.

"If there is one matter this train may have blessed us with..."

Elidibus then pauses. Perhaps that would have been too much. He stops and listens for Emet-Selch.

What other option is there but to mourn and survive? It was not as though he had any option in the matter, it was not as if he was able to do aught more than try and rejoin the world that was broken, to try and fix what was shattered. It did not matter if his heart was equally as shattered in the process, not when he is a shell of a man trying to find reason in madness.

The world was undone, and his heart hurts. To think on it too long... That is a pain that cannot be ignored.

Grief pains him, hurts him, and Emet-Selch has lived with the burden of it for so long that he does not know how to live nor survive without the feeling in his chest. Even moving into the Lifestream itself was not enough to repair the breaking of his heart, though he is well at peace with it now.

Coming here, to the train, to survive once again - that is both curse and blessing twinned.

"I would do it all again, were the world unkind enough to give me another option," there is no denying that. Emet-Selch knows himself, knows his own heart and his own mind, and he would replay it all without question. He would sacrifice himself and everything the Warrior of Light had fought for to unmake their world and remake his own - and they are all well aware of it.

If he were the type of man to shed tears he might well cry, but he is not. Instead, he turns his head to glance at Elidibus once more, expression tight.

"There is, perhaps, time to feel our grief. More than there ever has been. And I do not imagine Pahja will allow us to wallow for too long."

"Yes." In a heartbeat. "My life, my freedom. My... memories." It hurt him to say that much, it's clear. "I'd sacrifice it all and more to have a chance." Quiet, grieving words. Far more emotion than Elidibus would normally show. He speaks for himself, not for others, not as an advisor.

"Save one thing..." Elidibus's voice is softer still, almost inaudible. "To possess the foresight I have now, even in part that I might have guided us on a better path." He would not want to exist in a way that so disappointed him with mortals; to relive the past time and again the same way, never learning. But all this is a matter of changing time itself and branching a possibility where they succeeded, just as the Crystal Exarch and his allies had for his hope.

A sigh escapes him. The relationships with the train's existing Warriors of Light are complicated at best. Elidibus had, in a sense, placed a separation of their actions on their worlds as independent from the one that he knew and thus, would not judge them as personally as he would have his own. That would include Pahja.

Still they all have thus far been the enemy of the Ascians' plan. He was still coming to terms with the end- the very topic of their current conversation. And possessing a fragment wherein once, that selfsame Warrior Elidibus knew had traveled to the past and they'd met... and not been enemies.

Even if his memories were to suddenly return in full, he would likely struggle with the dichotomy. Perhaps moreso.

Despite the sign of... something troubling his mind, Elidibus still ponders the matter, casting aside his personal feelings as he has time and again, to focus on the simple facts. More difficult perhaps, when the matter is so indelibly tied with emotions. Still something he's capable of.

"What Pahja will and will not let us do," Elidibus says finally, carefully, "should not determine how we are allowed to grieve our loss. We may choose to accept her support or not, in the same way we may determine whether we mourn together, apart. Or not at all."

Elidibus shifts in his seat, turning to look at Emet-Selch. He'd not tried to look too directly until then, letting the other man lead contact whether physical or otherwise until that point. While Elidibus won't reach out, it's made clear in his movements that he's there to meet the glance and possibly 'hold' it.

"For all she is connected in some ways to our past and may understand better than most what we've lost." Not because Pahja is a piece of Azem's soul mind you. But because Pahja is Pahja. "While she might feel grief for us, would it be for the past itself? She has chosen and still chooses the present of our star for the future of it."

Elidibus pauses. A thought given to his next wording.

"And perhaps she may feel grief for the past that can never be as well, now she has borne witness to it. Be that as it may, she is no less or more free to choose for us than we are for her."

It's a lot, for Elidibus, to speak so thoroughly on a subject. It seems worthwhile to do so. Perhaps because of personal involvement.

"However you choose to grieve, pray remember that."

It's Emet-Selch's right to mourn how he wishes. With or without Pahja, or anyone.

Edited 2022-08-03 21:26 (UTC)

Inigo partially wonders why he's even here in the library in the first place.

After all, he's not a reader. Not in the slightest. And if he'd read something, it'd probably be one of his magazines, and those are all stores away in his shared room, rather than out here. Inigo has absolutely no reason to be here.

And yet his feet end up dragging him to the carriage all the same. He stands there, looking around without touching a simple book.

(Maybe he's just here because he came here so often, looking for Roland.

He won't be able to do that again.)

The feeling sits unpleasantly in his stomach, which is why Inigo quickly looks for something to distract himself with. He could grab one of the books, sure, but his gaze instead drifts over to the man sitting there, every inch of him looking like he's got something on his mind just as much as Inigo does.

Yet Inigo knows Emet-Selch. Not well - but just enough that he knows the other doesn't quite like to share. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it, and that possibility makes the idea of asking him about it very, very awkward indeed, especially for a guy who is deep down super painfully shy like Inigo.

.. there's the chance though. The chance that maybe he does want to talk about it, or that talking about it will at least make him feel lighter by getting everything off his chest.

So after a few moments of pondering, Inigo does step closer to him.

"You don't seem very immersed in that book," Inigo points out.

It's not a harsh call out or anything though. There's a faint softness around the edges of his casual observation, like it's obvious that he's not just here to say that and then nothing else.

There's a moment where it seems as though Emet-Selch is ready to lift himself and he almost snappish, but when he sees who it is he relents, just a little. Someone familiar, at least, does not deserve his ire, and he has no doubt that he would hear some stern words from Elidibus and Pahja were he to upset this particular mortal, especially of late.

Instead of allowing himself to give in to the frustration and anger - years of practice in the making - he forces himself to lift his shoulders in an absent, easy little shrug, careless and almost heedless of how it might make him appear.

"I have read a great deal today. This is not the most fascinating of resources the train has to offer."

It's easy, then, to close the book, not bothering to save his page or even make an attempt at memorising where he was; he lets himself look over at Inigo, assessing, for a moment, before he leans back - draping himself against the furniture like some sort of noble figure.

"And what brings you to the books?"

"Heh.. You caught me," Inigo says. He smiles, though it's a little sheepish at the edges. Maybe it's since Emet-Selch manages to respond to him in a way that seems so genuinely casual to him, while suppressing the anger that might have come to him otherwise, but Inigo can't help but believe the other's attitude the way it's being presented to him right now.

It's why he's also determined to try and not make things too heavy here, despite what he's about to address.

"I am not actually here to read. Most of the things here are.. not really that interesting to me either." (That's why he's looking sheepish.

He at least somewhat has the decency to feel sheepish over the fact he can't quite appreciate books as much as most people do.)

"It's just that someone I knew very well used to spend a lot of time here, before he walked off the platform we stopped at the other day. I suppose I wanted to come here just.. to remember him."

It's difficult not to allow himself to simply be, considering; Emet-Selch has no reason to do anything except pretend at casualness given the situation he's found himself in. There's no reason he might ever decide to bare himself to practical strangers - he is reticent even with those he recognises.

He glances around the room, almost as if determined not to look at Inigo.

"The fiction is well enough, and I am full glad there is some explanation to be had about the nature of the train. But it is not enough."

The notion of wanting to remember someone does prickle at him, however, and he glances up. That's something he cannot ignore, considering his own rather tethered memory, and his he sighs softly.

"Were they present here for a long time?"

Inigo nods, not hesitating in that answer.

He's toeing a very careful line here though. The boy is well aware that if he spends just a little too much time talking about the man he's thinking of right now, he'll gross that line and end up breaking in front of someone, and that's the last thing he'd ever want to do.

So he's calculating things just a little bit. Trying to see what he can or can't say. At least this much seems feasible - it's just a sheer fact, after all.

"Not quite as long as I have been, but longer than most people who are currently present on the train. It almost felt like he was never going to walk away on the platform like that, but.." Inigo pauses. His voice trails off, and he makes a little attempt at a shrug, though it's not at all that he doesn't seem to care.

He's just pretending that he's more okay than he really is. Like he can still casually shrug about it, though it feels like his heart is getting ripped apart inside of his chest.

".. I guess it could truly happen to anyone at any time."

Inigo knows more of Emet-Selch than others might, thanks to Elidibus' intervention, and that is something that he is very conscious of as they speak with one another, feeling the prickle of it as his lips turn.

He doesn't know just how emotional Inigo is, however, and considering how strained his own self is in the moment he'd rather keep it short and bleak rather than delving too deep. Emet-Selch isn't pleased with the idea of more people learning of what happened to his ilk, not if he can help it.

Another day passes and he begins to loathe the train even more.

"No one is safe," Emet-Selch nods his head, pausing to think, fingers resting on his chin.

"Does anyone know how it is chosen, those who leave?"

"No."

At least he's got an easy answer for that. Inigo has been on this train long enough. He's heard so many people speak about this stuff over time, especially since his interest is always drawn towards those that leave or why it even happens in the first place - and even though they've gotten a few more answers about that over time, he feels like this one has truly never been answered.

"Sometimes it's people who only just showed up. Sometimes it's people who have been here for a really long time.." There seems to be absolutely no pattern to it, as far as Inigo is concerned. Sometimes it's people who have been really active within their little community here, sometimes people he hardly noticed at all before they left.

"They have nothing in common. It's as if the train just loses people at random."

Sure, it could have something to do with the specific tethers of the people who leave, but even that doesn't tell them much. Especially when they have no idea whether every tether is different and unique in the first place.

"How curious."

Emet-Selch leans back, playing idly with the book in his hand as he considers. No rhyme or reason, no thought about it, which seems ridiculous. The train wants them to come and help them fight in their missions, to repair worlds - or something of the sort - and yet they allow them to come and go without choice.

It makes no sense. None of it makes sense, which makes the situation all the more irritable.

"What a strange system for a train that needs people to do deeds for them."

He shakes his head.

"I think it bothers the train too." Granted, it's not.. like Inigo really cares about what the train feels. Maybe he might have in a long, long ago past, but at this point he's definitely way too jaded about the vehicle they're stuck on to be able to really feel concerned for the train's sake in any way. "It does not mean to let people leave like that, after all. Maybe the reason it keeps constantly drawing in people is just that it also keeps losing people without intending to."

That seems like the most logical explanation to him, anyway.

Even if it's still a crappy thing to do regardless. Inigo doesn't think he'll ever find himself feeling alright with it. Just kidnapping people from their lives without asking like this..

".. though I suppose that, in the end, it is mostly just a pain for all of us."

Because they constantly have to deal with the cycle. Welcoming new people, trying to get them settled in, only to watch them leave sooner or later.

Inigo isn't sure how Emet-Selch experiences it, since he doesn't think he's ever seen a particularly strong emotion coming from the other, but he's at least aware that he himself is extremely bothered by it. He's just so tired and hurt at this point, even though he tries to not fully let it leak through into his tone as he speaks.

Does it? Is the train so sentient?

Emet-Selch cannot quite muster the energy to feel any kind of pity nor sympathy for the train, all things considered - he is still rather put out at having been brought here against his will when he was finally at peace. The notion of being 'let go' at random doesn't sit well with him either, considering.

It's a terrible fate for their ilk, he thinks, and it's clear just how it has impacted all of them.

"Then it should learn to be better. I have little sympathy for something that has seen fit to kidnap people from their realms and make demands of them."

He waves his hand, almost as if he doesn't care - which, in part, he doesn't, but he is making a game of it as well.

"We must be completely at their whims. How merciful they are."

Hey, it's not a sentiment Inigo is going to disagree with in the slightest. He's had a whole lot more time during which he had to endure the train's constant shenanigans, so if anything, Inigo is more tired of this stuff than most.

It shows too, if not just in the way he sighs after Emet-Selch says that.

"You try telling it that," he says, gesturing at nothing in particular. Maybe just the train around them. "But it seems like it never learns. Or if it does, then it does so very slowly. I'm still not sure it even understands that kidnapping us from our own lives and our own worlds that needs us is a bad thing, even though that ought to be obvious."

After all, the train may think that it's picking them up to save worlds, but it's clearly destroying some in the process. Inigo still remembers some people talking over the ICPs before about how being taken from their world at the wrong time basically destroyed it.

"Is it obvious to a machine? Can we ascribe human emotion to it? Or am I bereft of knowledge, imagining this thing something more sentient than it is perhaps worth? I have not been here long enough to know."

Nor does he have much inclination to go out of his way to learn too much about it, given his irritation and rather lethargic nature. When it begins to concern him he might start to study properly, but at the moment? He is more than happy to allow Pahja to do the hard work for him, letting her come and narrate her learnings to him.

It's enjoyable, when he can spend his time reading and viewing the 'movies'. He is learning, through listening, watching others, devouring their knowledge, and that might have to be enough for now.

"What about the worlds we leave behind?"

"Others seem to ascribe a great amount of sentience to it."

That's the best answer Inigo has got. After all, he didn't even know what trains were until he ended up on this one, while plenty of people from other worlds seem to at least know what they are.

And then there was that strange concept of AI that multiple people have tried to explain to him, but which also feels like it goes miles over Inigo's head.

He's just not technologically capable enough to fully realise the extent of what's going on here, he guesses.

".. I do not know much about it," he honestly admits. Yes, maybe it'll make him look dumb.

But he's aware he is kind of dumb. So. Whatever.

"Many who knew more have been lost to the void already." Like the person he came here to the library for in the first place, Inigo thinks, a pang of hurt inside of his heart at the thought.

"Others do, yes, but how much ought a newcomer trust people who say they have such vast knowledge?"

It's not that many of the people on the train appear to be liars, or seem to be the sort of people who might well try to convince others of something that isn't true, but that doesn't mean someone new will trust them immediately.

Emet-Selch is loathe to trust anyone, even those who he is beginning to create some kind of rapport with.

Shrugging his shoulders, he plays it off as if it doesn't matter in the least - as if none of this matters when, of course, it absolutely does.

"Then it is something to learn."

Which is a start, for someone like Emet-Selch who is more inclined to be an ass than he is to be helpful, considering.

"And perhaps they can be returned."

Honestly, out of all of the problems Inigo has ever had - which are many - and even the ones he has right now, the problem Emet-Selch seems to have is one of the few Inigo himself has never experienced. Maybe it's since he's a little too trusting.. or maybe it's since he feels like the solution to this one is fairly simple.

In his eyes, anyway.

"It isn't as if you have to fully trust their opinions." Of course not. Naga knows that Inigo disagrees with plenty of people on the train about plenty of things, and that he thinks some people are really stubborn about the most stupid of things. "You could just take the pieces of factual information you can find in what they tell you and carry those with you. As far as I know, no one here on the train has ever actively lied about something being a fact when it isn't."

Mostly because this train doesn't have the internet.

Where people go to tell lies.

"And I have been here for a long time now." So Inigo knows what he's talking about. He'd probably be able to catch someone in the act of lying about that, just because of how long he's been here and how much he's experienced on this train. And yet it's never happened to him.

Q'uila didn't expect to bump into Emet in the greenhouse but the sheer aura of unhappiness surrounding the Ascian was somewhat unexpected. She trots on over and with a push of her aether a sunflower blooms in her hand that Q'uila then holds out for Emet.

"Gil for your thoughts?"

It's not as if he is trying to look particularly pleased - it isn't worth the effort of pretence - and when he hears a voice he tilts his head, eyes lifting up and down. Familiar, at least, even if they're not his own Warrior; he can recognise the same ilk.

"Just one?" He leans back, watching her. "How inexpensive do you imagine me to be?"

"Hmmm..." Q'uila taps her chin, affecting an air of deep consideration. "I am sure that your evaluation of the worth of your thoughts would be somewhere in the realm of all the gil on the Source. Alas, 'twould be a biased assessment and so from my impartial analysis..."

She pauses dramatically.

"I would value it at five Gil and this sunflower grown from my own hand."

And on closer inspection, the sunflower really is growing from her hand, the stem emerging from the skin at the end of her index finger.

Edited 2022-06-12 17:55 (UTC)

"A high price indeed. Have I not always been rather open with my thoughts and plans with you and your kind? I've done little to hide what possesses me, after all, and I have always promised naught but honesty."

Which is true and fair enough, but being honest about the plans of Ascians and his own thoughts, his own mind, are two very different things.

Frowning, he leans close to look at the flower.

"How have you achieved this?"

"Worry not, I did take such things into account when totalling up the worth of things. But yes, at risk of inflating your ego, me and mine certainly appreciate your relative forthcoming and you were indeed honest."

Q'uila holds her hand still for Emet to inspect, "I spent a month or so living as a millennia old forest spirit." She says, likes it's just a thing that everyone does. "And some time living the life of a druid, something like the Padjal. Each life lived left their mark and skills on my soul I suppose."

"It is good to know that you believed some things, at least. I do not know your ilk personally, of course, but I trust I was as reliable an informant to you as I was to the one I best knew."

To Pahja, he means, since he had known her from his own world. The comparison might be made between these two, but he doesn't care enough to make it, knowing as little as he does.

"Akin to the others we have spoken of before." Emet-Selch nods, leaning back and giving her space. "Dare I question how many skills you have adopted?"

"Aye, nothing we have found as of yet has contradicted what you told us from what I can recall. Though Shtola is chomping at the bit to get back to the archives at Anyder, not that I blame her."

Q'uila considers the question, absent-mindedly plucking the sunflower from the end of her finger and offering it to Emet Selch.

"I would say I was sent to live lives on nearly thirty different worlds as a pawn of Justice. But enough about my travails, what about you? Even those who are not empaths would be able to tell that you are not feeling alright."

"That is because I've yet to have any reason to lie, nor do I anticipate one."

He dances around the future that he does not believe she has experienced yet, letting his hand reach to take the flower. It's something, at least, though it doesn't quite bring a smile to his face. He doubts she expected that it would all the same.

The rest? That makes his expression tighten.

"I did not enjoy the last venture this train had us on," he admits, voice low. "Is that not enough?"

"Ah." Q'uila nods. "I will admit I did not spend much time in the caves but I can see why it would not be an enjoyable experience, especially for one of your lifespan."

"Did you get to explore the rest of the island?" It certainly isn't a subtle change of topic but Q'uila knows full well that Emet Selch, if he was to disclose anything about the caves, would not talk to her about it.

"The volcano had edible lava!" She pulls out a glass gar with a grin, showing off the gloopy, garishly colour syrup. "'Tis particularly lovely with tea. Would you like to try some?"

"'Twas anything but, I can assure you. Find yourself thankful you avoided it, then."

He is absolutely sour about reliving memories and that is more than clear from the tension and the expression. Emet-Selch is not a man that enjoys being played with, and he's frustrated with how tired and hurt he feel as the constant reminders of his losses.

"I did not," he admits, leaning forward a little. He can't help being a little curious. "Is it real lava, or some replication?"

Generally, K'zeka doesn't seek Emet out on purpose, and being on the train doesn't change that all too much. They certainly see one another more often, but more often by chance.

He likes the garden car, as tiny and cramped as it is, though he doesn't contribute very much to it aside from pulling off dead leaves or flowers when he happens to see them passing through. Emet isn't a plant, but sitting as still as he is he may as well be, though one that K'zeka is capable of bothering.

"Ah, a new garden fixture!" He glances Emet over, looking deep in thought. "'Tis a shame it looks like it's had one too many sun lemons."

Edited (fixed a sentence) 2022-06-13 04:58 (UTC)

It is frustrating, to be sure, to be so surrounded by those that echo with the familiar and be completely an island himself.

There is a moment where he considers simply just leaving, getting up or teleporting away to some other deep part of the train, but it doesn't seem worth it. Knowing the Warriors as he does he is sure he would be cornered soon enough, so there is no point in it.

Not this time, at least.

"What a remarkable piece of commentary," he says finally, voice low. "'Tis a shame indeed that no one rightly cares."

If he did decide to leave, K'zeka would go looking for him. The train is much more finite than his home or its reflections, so he'd have a much higher chance of locating the man eventually.

His greeting falls as flat as he figured it would, but that doesn't mean he's going away either.

"Aye. Perhaps next time," he replies, shrugging. "But you were doing well playing at being a statue. Did I catch you in a thought?"

It is inescapable, as it is with all the Warriors; there is no way of dodging them with their dogged persistence. It's something that Emet-Selch is painfully aware of - especially since he had been rather than same when he had been so determined to offer his own support once upon a time.

Thankfully, Emet-Selch has learned to accept this.

"One of many," he sighs. "'Tis most discomforting, being here, do you not think?"

It's simply inevitable that he'll have to interact with at least one cat at some point each day. On the plus side, at least they're capable of getting along with one another somewhat.

"Discomforting's a word. Cramped and boring come to mind as well...there's only so many times one can see each cabin before it stops being interesting." Not that he's exhausted all of the things to do on the train--he hasn't read all the books or watched all the movies or played all the games to their conclusions, but in his mind he's exhausted a lot of the things that are of interest to him.

At least they're all reasonably tolerable, Emet-Selch thinks, considering. He might have been trapped here with three Warriors of Light that had been hideous to be around, beyond the natural menaces of their kind. He can be at least a little thankful for this.

"Cramped, yes. Have you seen the beds?" He motions absently to his legs - because it is a bit of a tight squeeze for someone of his height to try and muster the ability to simply lie down and rest. "You seem to be content enough, at least."

"The beds aren't that short." At least not to someone who can halve his size very easily and does so on a regular basis to sleep. "Though they're very narrow."

In his opinion, it would be much better if there were two to a cabin, but he has yet to suggest that. Maybe he will eventually.

"I'm doing as well as I can, given the circumstances. Trapped as we are, at the least we get to visit new places regularly."

"They are short enough to be an irritant, and I think they're well aware of that fact."

Emet-Selch isn't exactly small, for all that he might be lithe and powerful, and it's a bit of a squeeze to get him anything close to comfortable in the beds that are provided for him. It's almost better napping in the quiet carriage.

"I forgot how adventurous your ilk is. Anything novel is an adventure."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

tis truly a terrible weight.

elidibus and pahja.

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Garden!

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