[ Unfortunately, unlike the other Scions, their souls had been reunited with their bodies. There isn't another soul to contend with. Such is the case with this particular body. Two souls coming together within one vessel made of flesh. One determined to continue living and the other uncertain about where he stands in the world that he is now being presented with.
That's the difficult part, isn't it? Knowing which one, if any, are actually starting to become dominant. If one is fading or if both are. There's not even an immediate response from G'raha either. No reaction to the firm grip nor the gentle, trembling touch to his face. Not even words seem to reach him in this moment, memories new and old all sort of blending together and making it difficult to sort out a response.
Disorienting. Is the world brighter or more dauting? Marcel... Is he a dear friend or a companion that hadn't uttered more than a few words? The Viera is both, but how should... How should he feel about it? Which is it...
[ He isn't responding. His eyes are open, ears moving a little, breath stuttering instead of even. But he isn't responding. Marcel waits, breath caught in his throat, for an answer that does not come. He bites his lip, glancing away.
Whatever is happening - and he could not begin to comprehend what is happening - the G'raha he found here is remembering. Remembering the long sleep and the waking and the world he woke to. Remembering the century of lonely, painful preparation. Remembering the fight against the lightwardens. The failure in the last moments. The depths of the Tempest. The victory and the work that came after. ]
I am here. With you, G'raha Tia. [ He tries to keep his voice steady. ] This time, I am here.
[ At the mention of his name, eyes snap up. They lock onto Marcel's. There's some clarity there, evidence that he's at least seeing the other now. That he knows who he is and isn't surprised to find him there. But the gaze is still... Lost, almost. Like the puzzle is right before him and all of the pieces are spread out. Yet he cannot know what the puzzle itself is - what shape and form it is to take. Where the pieces are supposed to go.
Yet at the same time he feels the worry radiating off of the other. Guilt. Concern. A little anger. And it doesn't matter if it is G'raha or the Exarch that sees it and recognizes that this cannot be allowed to continue. This needs to be fixed. ]
Ah... Apologies. [ A hand shakily finds itself on top of Marcel's, the one that is upon his person. ] T'was not my intention to make you worry, m -
[ Marcel? My friend? How had he been about to end it. Why is his hand in a location in such a familiar way. Too familiar? Not familiar enough?
He's pulling it away again. Not sure if he's overstepped or not. If he had, then why does it feel as though it should be there? ]
It is. Never your intention to make me worry. Never. I know this. No matter who you are.
[ The words are soft, careful and measured. Moreso than his words usually are. He lifts his hand from G'raha's cheek to chase the miqo'te's, catching it and curling his longer fingers around G'raha's smaller ones.
He cannot tell who this is. The apologies sound like the G'raha of this age, but the hand upon his own seems like the Exarch. Listening is no help at all - this is the heartbeat and breath of the G'raha from this tower, still, but of course it is. It is his body.
He doesn't know who he wants this to be. He doesn't know if he could live with himself for wanting this to be anyone at all. He does not want the Exarch to be a man willing to destroy another for a second chance at life. He does not want to see him gone forever, martyred one last time with every wish he had yet unfulfilled. He does not want G'raha Tia to bear the weight of failed expectations from not being the man who saved Norvrandt. And he does not want him to bear the weight of being the man who saved Norvrandt, either.
He does not like to make choices. But he is finding that he does not like having choices plucked from his hands, either. ]
I want to make this easier. I am here to make this easier. Tell me, please, thank you. How do I make this easier.
[ And he listens, hears, both with his ears and with the echo, for any answer that he might speak or think or hope. ]
[ "No matter who you are." Yes, that seems to be the ultimate problem here. The conundrum that doesn't quite have an answer as of yet. Even the Echo won't really be much help here.
What he does know is that Marcel has snatched up Raha's hand and the reactions are... Very different. Elation that the Viera would be so familiar with him - the very tip of his tail twitching in an attempt to swish. Dread because he cannot know which G'raha Tia Marcel is doing this for. Which one does he want this one to be; his ears folded back in dismay. Two distinct voices. Neither one seems to hold dominance over the other.
There is, however, one thing that the both of those voices can agree on: ]
'Tis nothing that you can do, I fear. Time He - I... We need time.
[ It's immediate. Almost defensive. How dare you not give him a quest objective. Or maybe it's resigned, tinged with shame in the same way his admission of tiredness was. Or denial. Or any number of things in between - he might have grown better with words, but putting recognisable emotions behind them is still a challenge. ]
I will wait. I would like to wait with you. Please. [ He looks down, like he wants to say more but needs a moment to find the words. His other hand is still keeping its bruising grip on G'raha's arm as he frowns in concentration. Trying to find something. Some thread that he can pull to draw the both of them closer to him, without pulling wither one any closer than the other. ] And. And you can tell me. Things that I do not need to know. About people who are dead and who I cannot prevent from doing things I do not like.
[ He knows that tone of voice. Rather, a part of him that he doesn't understand himself knows that voice. It's so, so hard to discern what is Exarch and what is G'raha. Where does one begin and end? He doesn't have an answer. They don't know the answer either. Regardless, the tone is recognized and while one panics, the other is... Concerned. It's that one that's squeezing Marcel's hand.
It's that one that's taking his free hand to place it upon the hand that's squeezing him so tightly. ]
No, your part is done. You have completed that which you have been tasked with.
[ Exarch. That is most assuredly the Crystal Exarch speaking at that moment. All the way to the sad little smile and the slope of the ears. Both have people that are long dead and that can be spoken about. Neither one of them are really able to wanting to discuss those matters. ]
[ This would be the moment, always, when someone intervened. The scions try to let him speak for himself as much as possible for some reason that he struggles to understand. They wait patiently while he fumbles his way through conversation, and only intervene when he starts tripping over his words. If not them, then someone else. There have been a lot of kind, patient people across both stars, all willing to guide him.
There is nobody to step in, here. He repeats himself a few more times, quieter each time, until he finally realises just how much force he's applying to poor G'raha's arm. His eyes go wide as he lets go completely, bringing both hands into his lap and looking down at them instead of at the Exarch. ]
Please. [ He is quiet, and the pauses between words from longer and longer. Every muscle in his body is bowstring-taut. ] Please tell me what is this thing. I will find more of it.
[ The release of Marcel's hands is a slow one, almost reluctant. Another part of him thinks that this is an intrusion. It's a space that he doesn't belong in and thus withdrawing is the best option. It couldn't happen fast enough.
It's that time of disconnect, dissonance, that is causing the souls within turmoil more than anything else. Slight pain and disorientation. They had been the same person, once. Now they are not. ]
'Tis not a what. More of a whom. The only person that we most sincerely wish to see other than you, of course.
[ One person comes to mind above all others. They have never spoken about Krile, really, beyond him passing the occasional fond, exhausted, heartsore messages from her in recent moons. And she only rarely speaks of him. A few words of fond reminiscence back on Val. A long look away followed by an exasperated sigh and a smile when she learned about everything after Emet-Selch's defeat. Always using his given name
He nods, then looks up again. Holds out his arms. ]
[ There's a moment where G'raha reaches out, then hesitates. Reaches out again then stops. Again, it's a moment of disconnect. The younger and the older not quite meeting in the middle. Marcel can likely sense something is going on, since G'raha's gaze seems to go out of focus. A discussion between two souls. One insisting that they don't need to inconvenience the Warrior. The other more reassuring that this much can be and will always be permitted.
Once a hand grasps Marcel's arm, one soul grows silent. Settles into the back of this shared consciousness of theirs. ]
None of this is going quite as anticipated. [ Ah, Exarch. That seems to be the one at the forefront. ] The chances of this particular scenario occurring were so infinitesimally small, I didn't prepare for it.
[ Carefully, he gathers G'raha's body up into his arms and braces him against his chest. The throne is massive, and he isn't at all willing to let G'raha trust his own legs with the descent after so long in stillness. Truthfully, right now, he'd struggle to let G'raha trust himself with anything. He jumps down, leaving the throne as empty as if should always have been. ]
What. What was it. That you anticipated. [ He asks, utterly failing to convey in his tone that it's a question. He doesn't know what answer he wants to hear. All of them sound painful. Then softer, eyeing the floor like he isn't sure he trusts G'raha with that, either- ] Can you walk.
[ He should probably at least offer the option, even if he doesn't like it. ]
[ A hand goes to Marcel's chest as the Viera gives him space - meaning he thinks to actually try to walk. Now both of them are sure that Marcel doesn't really want to hear what the Exarch has to say on the matter. ]
One soul would consume the other. [ Though the younger G'raha is yelling for the Exarch not to say that, it can't be helped. Marcel deserves the truth. ] Either the years on one would give it strength to over take the other... Or the original inhabitant would offer naught but rejection.
[ That's all there really is to say on the matter. The Exarch's soul would just be lost, just as it had been originally planned. But this... ]
[ He just nods, expression unchanging. There is no need to tell this G'raha-Exarch-thing in his arms how much he dislikes this. He knows.
It would seem almost reverent, the way that he bows to set the Exarch down, if one didn't know that he is exactly as careful with everyone he encounters. Little by little he lowers him to the ground until his feet touch crystal. Even then, he continues to bear his weight, returning it an onze at a time as he becomes more certain that G'raha's legs can bear it. ]
This is not yours. Not yet. [ Softly, firmly, hands still holding on to the Exarch. ] You have borrowed this body. You will treat it as a thing borrowed. Until. Until this is done.
[ And he lowers his head to touch G'raha's forehead to his own, holding it there for a long moment before letting go to allow him to stand on his own. ]
It is good to speak with you again. You are. Very quiet. When you are a stone.
[ At first it is just going to be seeing if he can bear the weight at all. Oh he wishes that he could say that he has muscle memory for this, but it has been a while since the Exarch has walked without crystal affecting his body. It's been a little while since G'raha has been free to walk as well.
The response, however, is somewhat amusing. At least is is to the Exarch. G'raha is somewhere back there being flustered that Marcel seems to be so adamant about this. Firm. ]
Borrowed. I see. No need to worry, I assure you.
[ Maybe Marcel can detect that he doesn't quite fully agree with that statement. He is here now and while it is surprising that this younger self of his must value himself enough not to fade, he has no intentions of giving up either. No, the Exarch is quite confident that they can come to terms.
Those thoughts are derailed with the press of a forehead to his own. Carefully, there is a gentle press back. An explanation given to the curious soul about why this is a thing happening right now. ]
Crystal, not stone.
[ Oh that's definitely both of them correcting Marcel right now. ]
Borrowed. Do not become hurt until this is done. Or. Or it will be like making a library book become hurt.
[ Yes, he is under the impression that this comparison is more likely to impress upon the Exarch that being hurt is bad than anything else.
He speaks more naturally with the Exarch than he had with G'raha, clumsy as he still is with his works. Easily. His pauses are shorter. While he still sounds distant, his voice is worlds warmer. As if somewhere in the last few years he learned that he enjoys talking, even if he is still remarkably bad at it. ]
You are very quiet. When you are a very small piece of auracite. That is covered in blood. [ -and also he is at least somewhat capable of talking back. ]
I would argue it is more akin to taking well worn pages from a tattered tome and the cover from the same, but newer tome and stitching them together.
[ Only now some of the pages from the old tome and the new tome are both in there. But it is the same tome nonetheless in the Exarch's view. Surprisingly, G'raha agrees with that assessment.
At the end of the day, it's not as though either one really sees the problem with this, with what has been done. The Exarch had given a choice to Marcel. Entrusted his soul to Marcel. So it is Marcel that elected to show the auracite to G'raha. Without understanding the implications of it or what G'raha's choice would be... He had already made it.
Both of them inside this skin, this body, understand. Now they simply have to learn how to fit themselves together. ]
I apologize for the silence, my friend. Were I able to convey thoughts through contact with the auracite, I would have gladly.
[ Ah, but his legs are so stiff. A few steps and he already sees how difficult it is going to be to get anywhere likes this. Hmm. He's waving his hand about, expecting a staff to weave an appropriate spell or for the Tower to fix it and - ]
[ He considers that metaphor, frowns, and drops the topic. It sounds like a cruel thing to do to a book, but he doesn't know enough about books to actually know if it is something that one does. ]
Were you. Able to hear from it. [ He's using 'hear' as a shorthand for every sense. ] I am not very often a stone. I do not know these things.
[ And finally, it's something both the Exarch and G'raha will be almost equally confused by. There wasn't exactly a lot of time to discuss Azem's memory stone before. But that concern goes out of the window immediately when the Exarch looks to be struggling upon his borrowed legs. He doesn't pick him up immediately, but he does move closer. ]
I am here. [ And he extends an arm out, inviting the exarch to lean against him. ]
[ Oh the auracite. Had he heard Marcel from within his little prison. And the younger G'raha's ears are perking at the sound of "not very often a stone." What's that about? ]
Would that I could say that I did. Alas, voices can't truly reach where I was.
[ He notices that Marcel is there. Considers for a moment being stubborn... But then leans against Marcel as if to give him permission. ]
Oh. [ And for a long moment, he leaves it at that. When the exarch leans against him, he coils an arm around his smaller, borrowed body and braces it against his own. Taking a little of his weight, but just enough to let him still walk for himself. Even if it means that they'll be going slowly. ] I have said many horrible things about you. While you were not listening. And I will not tell you what they are.
[ That's. Probably. An attempt at a joke, something else that he never used to be capable of. And that, in truth, he is still not capable of. The pixies are trying their best but a lot of pixie jokes aren't so much jokes as 'just telling lies'.
Eventually, eventually they reach that great golden door. The one that has opened and closed and opened and closed and opened so many times, someone new behind it each time. He pauses before they reach it, just before the Exarch's feet would touch the sliver of dull, cloudy daylight streaming in from the one slightly-open door he'd slipped in through. ]
You are. Ready to leave? [ A pause, then, as if to clarify. ] He is. Ready to leave?
[ They will be going slowly, but it's not as though the Exarch minds. Meanwhile G'raha grows a bit silent. Contemplative and watching more than anything else. Learning from these silent interactions. Gently tapping at memories that aren't his own and yet now they are.
No, the older version of this soul just allows for this, a nice happy medium between not burdening Marcel and also letting the Viera help. At first ears twitch and perk at the "horrible things." Then they fold against his head and there's a breathless laugh. ]
No doubt there were. I rightfully deserve them. Yet I cannot say that I truly feel repentant.
[ Onward they go and oh. Oh it's so strange to see the Tower as it once was and not how it is in the First. To think how much has changed and how much needs to still... At the very least, both souls can agree upon the things to prepare for, that they are needed with the others and not locked up in the Tower.
That, at least, is progress. ]
We are ready, yes. I think the other finally is starting to see some sense.
You never do. Not ever. For the things that you ought to be repentant for.
[ It's a reprimand. But it isn't a firm one. The kind of fond, soft, resigned disapproval reserved for things that will never change. Carefully, as if the thin strip of sunlight might make the exarch's borrowed body vanish upon contact if he gets something wrong, he steps forward. And forward. And forward.
It is fifteen steps, in the end, before they are on the other side of those doors. There, Marcel turns back and pulls them shut. Then takes the empty, dull auracite from one of the pockets inside his cloak and holds it out. ]
Hello. Stay closed for now. Safe. Please. Thank you.
[ Yes, he is talking to the door exactly the same way he talks to people. ]
You are not wrong, of course. Though were I repentant, doubtful would we be here at all.
[ He is very helpfully pointing that out. Though isn't he simply doing as he has been told to do? To live and latch onto life itself? To not think of himself as expendable?
Which is... Actually quite opening for this younger version of himself. To think that there would be a time where such a thing is actually being considered. That there might actually be worth and that there are those who do desire his presence. G'raha is sitting there, reflecting in that corner he has temporarily tucked himself away in. The Exarch actually kindly reminds him that it is their greatest wish - to be allowed to fight alongside those that they care for.
This is an opportunity to do just that. ]
Perhaps I might find myself properly scolded when the elation wears off.
[ But then they are through the doors. Both of the souls see through red eyes at how they close. Marcel speaking to the mechanisms as if they are truly alive. There is something that settles within the chest of both G'raha and the Exarch upon the sight of it. Upon the knowledge that they are well and truly leaving the Tower behind. Moving onward. Forging ahead, so to speak. ]
None will enter unless you or I are present. Worry not.
[ And he pats the door in approval. Good door, opening when he wants it to open and closing when he wants it to be closed. It's taken it a while, but this is ideal door behaviour.
He had not realised how much more alive G'raha would look, outside of the tower. In the sunlight, without the blue of everything draining the red from his face and hair. A little weak-looking, perhaps, from the long sleep. But alive. Alive and happpy, despite everything. He closes his eyes. His breath comes out stuttering. And that's the only warning he gives before he pulls the Exarch, pulls G'raha, in close to himself and wraps his arms around him tightly. ]
I am still. Very cross with you, Raha. You are not allowed to think that I am not cross. But I am glad that you are here. For me to be cross with.
[ It is very much a Miqo'te looking back at Marcel. There's an amused curl to his lip, eyes bright for a change. A tail lazily swings back and forth while ears seem to be perking up. Awake and alert, if not weak, yes. Hair a bit longer than it should be and nails needing clipped. But all in all he is there and alive. Not asleep. Not encased in crystal.
Here.
And there's even more surprise when marcel pulls him into a hug. Ears once more jerk high upon his head. That tail lashes back and forth, betraying surprise and delight. There's even a shocked chirp that he's sure that he'll be embarrassed about later. Both share in these feelings. Both are embarrassed that they are happy about it too. It's probably the first time since waking that both souls are in complete agreement.
Neither one can discern which G'raha Tia that Marcel means. They decide that it's probably both. ]
If this is how you are when you are cross, it's a surprise that you have enemies at all.
[ Now that comment is more in line with how the Exarch would say it... But it's definitely not in the same tone. That one would be all G'raha Tia. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-24 12:15 am (UTC)That's the difficult part, isn't it? Knowing which one, if any, are actually starting to become dominant. If one is fading or if both are. There's not even an immediate response from G'raha either. No reaction to the firm grip nor the gentle, trembling touch to his face. Not even words seem to reach him in this moment, memories new and old all sort of blending together and making it difficult to sort out a response.
Disorienting. Is the world brighter or more dauting? Marcel... Is he a dear friend or a companion that hadn't uttered more than a few words? The Viera is both, but how should... How should he feel about it? Which is it...
Who is he? ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-24 01:33 am (UTC)Whatever is happening - and he could not begin to comprehend what is happening - the G'raha he found here is remembering. Remembering the long sleep and the waking and the world he woke to. Remembering the century of lonely, painful preparation. Remembering the fight against the lightwardens. The failure in the last moments. The depths of the Tempest. The victory and the work that came after. ]
I am here. With you, G'raha Tia. [ He tries to keep his voice steady. ] This time, I am here.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-29 11:32 pm (UTC)Yet at the same time he feels the worry radiating off of the other. Guilt. Concern. A little anger. And it doesn't matter if it is G'raha or the Exarch that sees it and recognizes that this cannot be allowed to continue. This needs to be fixed. ]
Ah... Apologies. [ A hand shakily finds itself on top of Marcel's, the one that is upon his person. ] T'was not my intention to make you worry, m -
[ Marcel? My friend? How had he been about to end it. Why is his hand in a location in such a familiar way. Too familiar? Not familiar enough?
He's pulling it away again. Not sure if he's overstepped or not. If he had, then why does it feel as though it should be there? ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-30 08:08 pm (UTC)[ The words are soft, careful and measured. Moreso than his words usually are. He lifts his hand from G'raha's cheek to chase the miqo'te's, catching it and curling his longer fingers around G'raha's smaller ones.
He cannot tell who this is. The apologies sound like the G'raha of this age, but the hand upon his own seems like the Exarch. Listening is no help at all - this is the heartbeat and breath of the G'raha from this tower, still, but of course it is. It is his body.
He doesn't know who he wants this to be. He doesn't know if he could live with himself for wanting this to be anyone at all. He does not want the Exarch to be a man willing to destroy another for a second chance at life. He does not want to see him gone forever, martyred one last time with every wish he had yet unfulfilled. He does not want G'raha Tia to bear the weight of failed expectations from not being the man who saved Norvrandt. And he does not want him to bear the weight of being the man who saved Norvrandt, either.
He does not like to make choices. But he is finding that he does not like having choices plucked from his hands, either. ]
I want to make this easier. I am here to make this easier. Tell me, please, thank you. How do I make this easier.
[ And he listens, hears, both with his ears and with the echo, for any answer that he might speak or think or hope. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-30 10:50 pm (UTC)What he does know is that Marcel has snatched up Raha's hand and the reactions are... Very different. Elation that the Viera would be so familiar with him - the very tip of his tail twitching in an attempt to swish. Dread because he cannot know which G'raha Tia Marcel is doing this for. Which one does he want this one to be; his ears folded back in dismay. Two distinct voices. Neither one seems to hold dominance over the other.
There is, however, one thing that the both of those voices can agree on: ]
'Tis nothing that you can do, I fear. Time He - I... We need time.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-31 12:31 am (UTC)[ It's immediate. Almost defensive. How dare you not give him a quest objective. Or maybe it's resigned, tinged with shame in the same way his admission of tiredness was. Or denial. Or any number of things in between - he might have grown better with words, but putting recognisable emotions behind them is still a challenge. ]
I will wait. I would like to wait with you. Please. [ He looks down, like he wants to say more but needs a moment to find the words. His other hand is still keeping its bruising grip on G'raha's arm as he frowns in concentration. Trying to find something. Some thread that he can pull to draw the both of them closer to him, without pulling wither one any closer than the other. ] And. And you can tell me. Things that I do not need to know. About people who are dead and who I cannot prevent from doing things I do not like.
[ Odd way of saying 'history' but okay. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-31 03:03 am (UTC)It's that one that's taking his free hand to place it upon the hand that's squeezing him so tightly. ]
No, your part is done. You have completed that which you have been tasked with.
[ Exarch. That is most assuredly the Crystal Exarch speaking at that moment. All the way to the sad little smile and the slope of the ears. Both have people that are long dead and that can be spoken about. Neither one of them are really able to wanting to discuss those matters. ]
We do have one thing that can be agreed upon.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-01 01:54 am (UTC)[ This would be the moment, always, when someone intervened. The scions try to let him speak for himself as much as possible for some reason that he struggles to understand. They wait patiently while he fumbles his way through conversation, and only intervene when he starts tripping over his words. If not them, then someone else. There have been a lot of kind, patient people across both stars, all willing to guide him.
There is nobody to step in, here. He repeats himself a few more times, quieter each time, until he finally realises just how much force he's applying to poor G'raha's arm. His eyes go wide as he lets go completely, bringing both hands into his lap and looking down at them instead of at the Exarch. ]
Please. [ He is quiet, and the pauses between words from longer and longer. Every muscle in his body is bowstring-taut. ] Please tell me what is this thing. I will find more of it.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-01 10:43 pm (UTC)It's that time of disconnect, dissonance, that is causing the souls within turmoil more than anything else. Slight pain and disorientation. They had been the same person, once. Now they are not. ]
'Tis not a what. More of a whom. The only person that we most sincerely wish to see other than you, of course.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-02 12:24 am (UTC)[ One person comes to mind above all others. They have never spoken about Krile, really, beyond him passing the occasional fond, exhausted, heartsore messages from her in recent moons. And she only rarely speaks of him. A few words of fond reminiscence back on Val. A long look away followed by an exasperated sigh and a smile when she learned about everything after Emet-Selch's defeat. Always using his given name
He nods, then looks up again. Holds out his arms. ]
I will. If you allow me. I will take you to her.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-03 05:14 am (UTC)Once a hand grasps Marcel's arm, one soul grows silent. Settles into the back of this shared consciousness of theirs. ]
None of this is going quite as anticipated. [ Ah, Exarch. That seems to be the one at the forefront. ] The chances of this particular scenario occurring were so infinitesimally small, I didn't prepare for it.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-04 12:06 am (UTC)What. What was it. That you anticipated. [ He asks, utterly failing to convey in his tone that it's a question. He doesn't know what answer he wants to hear. All of them sound painful. Then softer, eyeing the floor like he isn't sure he trusts G'raha with that, either- ] Can you walk.
[ He should probably at least offer the option, even if he doesn't like it. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-04 01:22 am (UTC)One soul would consume the other. [ Though the younger G'raha is yelling for the Exarch not to say that, it can't be helped. Marcel deserves the truth. ] Either the years on one would give it strength to over take the other... Or the original inhabitant would offer naught but rejection.
[ That's all there really is to say on the matter. The Exarch's soul would just be lost, just as it had been originally planned. But this... ]
I would like to try to walk, if you don't mind.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-04 01:40 pm (UTC)It would seem almost reverent, the way that he bows to set the Exarch down, if one didn't know that he is exactly as careful with everyone he encounters. Little by little he lowers him to the ground until his feet touch crystal. Even then, he continues to bear his weight, returning it an onze at a time as he becomes more certain that G'raha's legs can bear it. ]
This is not yours. Not yet. [ Softly, firmly, hands still holding on to the Exarch. ] You have borrowed this body. You will treat it as a thing borrowed. Until. Until this is done.
[ And he lowers his head to touch G'raha's forehead to his own, holding it there for a long moment before letting go to allow him to stand on his own. ]
It is good to speak with you again. You are. Very quiet. When you are a stone.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-04 08:26 pm (UTC)The response, however, is somewhat amusing. At least is is to the Exarch. G'raha is somewhere back there being flustered that Marcel seems to be so adamant about this. Firm. ]
Borrowed. I see. No need to worry, I assure you.
[ Maybe Marcel can detect that he doesn't quite fully agree with that statement. He is here now and while it is surprising that this younger self of his must value himself enough not to fade, he has no intentions of giving up either. No, the Exarch is quite confident that they can come to terms.
Those thoughts are derailed with the press of a forehead to his own. Carefully, there is a gentle press back. An explanation given to the curious soul about why this is a thing happening right now. ]
Crystal, not stone.
[ Oh that's definitely both of them correcting Marcel right now. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-04 09:00 pm (UTC)[ Yes, he is under the impression that this comparison is more likely to impress upon the Exarch that being hurt is bad than anything else.
He speaks more naturally with the Exarch than he had with G'raha, clumsy as he still is with his works. Easily. His pauses are shorter. While he still sounds distant, his voice is worlds warmer. As if somewhere in the last few years he learned that he enjoys talking, even if he is still remarkably bad at it. ]
You are very quiet. When you are a very small piece of auracite. That is covered in blood. [ -and also he is at least somewhat capable of talking back. ]
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Date: 2023-02-04 11:51 pm (UTC)[ Only now some of the pages from the old tome and the new tome are both in there. But it is the same tome nonetheless in the Exarch's view. Surprisingly, G'raha agrees with that assessment.
At the end of the day, it's not as though either one really sees the problem with this, with what has been done. The Exarch had given a choice to Marcel. Entrusted his soul to Marcel. So it is Marcel that elected to show the auracite to G'raha. Without understanding the implications of it or what G'raha's choice would be... He had already made it.
Both of them inside this skin, this body, understand. Now they simply have to learn how to fit themselves together. ]
I apologize for the silence, my friend. Were I able to convey thoughts through contact with the auracite, I would have gladly.
[ Ah, but his legs are so stiff. A few steps and he already sees how difficult it is going to be to get anywhere likes this. Hmm. He's waving his hand about, expecting a staff to weave an appropriate spell or for the Tower to fix it and - ]
Ah.
[ Nothing. ]
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Date: 2023-02-05 12:48 am (UTC)Were you. Able to hear from it. [ He's using 'hear' as a shorthand for every sense. ] I am not very often a stone. I do not know these things.
[ And finally, it's something both the Exarch and G'raha will be almost equally confused by. There wasn't exactly a lot of time to discuss Azem's memory stone before. But that concern goes out of the window immediately when the Exarch looks to be struggling upon his borrowed legs. He doesn't pick him up immediately, but he does move closer. ]
I am here. [ And he extends an arm out, inviting the exarch to lean against him. ]
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Date: 2023-02-07 12:48 am (UTC)[ Oh the auracite. Had he heard Marcel from within his little prison. And the younger G'raha's ears are perking at the sound of "not very often a stone." What's that about? ]
Would that I could say that I did. Alas, voices can't truly reach where I was.
[ He notices that Marcel is there. Considers for a moment being stubborn... But then leans against Marcel as if to give him permission. ]
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Date: 2023-02-07 09:58 pm (UTC)[ That's. Probably. An attempt at a joke, something else that he never used to be capable of. And that, in truth, he is still not capable of. The pixies are trying their best but a lot of pixie jokes aren't so much jokes as 'just telling lies'.
Eventually, eventually they reach that great golden door. The one that has opened and closed and opened and closed and opened so many times, someone new behind it each time. He pauses before they reach it, just before the Exarch's feet would touch the sliver of dull, cloudy daylight streaming in from the one slightly-open door he'd slipped in through. ]
You are. Ready to leave? [ A pause, then, as if to clarify. ] He is. Ready to leave?
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Date: 2023-02-11 11:54 pm (UTC)No, the older version of this soul just allows for this, a nice happy medium between not burdening Marcel and also letting the Viera help. At first ears twitch and perk at the "horrible things." Then they fold against his head and there's a breathless laugh. ]
No doubt there were. I rightfully deserve them. Yet I cannot say that I truly feel repentant.
[ Onward they go and oh. Oh it's so strange to see the Tower as it once was and not how it is in the First. To think how much has changed and how much needs to still... At the very least, both souls can agree upon the things to prepare for, that they are needed with the others and not locked up in the Tower.
That, at least, is progress. ]
We are ready, yes. I think the other finally is starting to see some sense.
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Date: 2023-02-12 10:51 pm (UTC)[ It's a reprimand. But it isn't a firm one. The kind of fond, soft, resigned disapproval reserved for things that will never change. Carefully, as if the thin strip of sunlight might make the exarch's borrowed body vanish upon contact if he gets something wrong, he steps forward. And forward. And forward.
It is fifteen steps, in the end, before they are on the other side of those doors. There, Marcel turns back and pulls them shut. Then takes the empty, dull auracite from one of the pockets inside his cloak and holds it out. ]
Hello. Stay closed for now. Safe. Please. Thank you.
[ Yes, he is talking to the door exactly the same way he talks to people. ]
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Date: 2023-02-12 11:22 pm (UTC)[ He is very helpfully pointing that out. Though isn't he simply doing as he has been told to do? To live and latch onto life itself? To not think of himself as expendable?
Which is... Actually quite opening for this younger version of himself. To think that there would be a time where such a thing is actually being considered. That there might actually be worth and that there are those who do desire his presence. G'raha is sitting there, reflecting in that corner he has temporarily tucked himself away in. The Exarch actually kindly reminds him that it is their greatest wish - to be allowed to fight alongside those that they care for.
This is an opportunity to do just that. ]
Perhaps I might find myself properly scolded when the elation wears off.
[ But then they are through the doors. Both of the souls see through red eyes at how they close. Marcel speaking to the mechanisms as if they are truly alive. There is something that settles within the chest of both G'raha and the Exarch upon the sight of it. Upon the knowledge that they are well and truly leaving the Tower behind. Moving onward. Forging ahead, so to speak. ]
None will enter unless you or I are present. Worry not.
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Date: 2023-02-13 12:12 am (UTC)[ And he pats the door in approval. Good door, opening when he wants it to open and closing when he wants it to be closed. It's taken it a while, but this is ideal door behaviour.
He had not realised how much more alive G'raha would look, outside of the tower. In the sunlight, without the blue of everything draining the red from his face and hair. A little weak-looking, perhaps, from the long sleep. But alive. Alive and happpy, despite everything. He closes his eyes. His breath comes out stuttering. And that's the only warning he gives before he pulls the Exarch, pulls G'raha, in close to himself and wraps his arms around him tightly. ]
I am still. Very cross with you, Raha. You are not allowed to think that I am not cross. But I am glad that you are here. For me to be cross with.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-02-17 07:03 am (UTC)Here.
And there's even more surprise when marcel pulls him into a hug. Ears once more jerk high upon his head. That tail lashes back and forth, betraying surprise
and delight. There's even a shocked chirp that he's sure that he'll be embarrassed about later. Both share in these feelings. Both are embarrassed that they are happy about it too. It's probably the first time since waking that both souls are in complete agreement.Neither one can discern which G'raha Tia that Marcel means. They decide that it's probably both. ]
If this is how you are when you are cross, it's a surprise that you have enemies at all.
[ Now that comment is more in line with how the Exarch would say it... But it's definitely not in the same tone. That one would be all G'raha Tia. ]
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