[ As he grows closer and closer, he becomes more and more certain where the tower is guiding him. The only place it could be guiding him.
His mind tries to tell him he will see all kinds of things, once he steps past the doors of the throne room. The yawning mouth of the void, calling for a pact to be fulfilled. An exhausted scholar refusing to meet his eyes, saying there is still work to be done. A desperate man lashing out in grief. Something small and afraid and exhausted, murmuring apologies to lifeless stones. A man of silent glass. His mind tries to tell him that he will see all of this, and he knows full well that it is lying. He will see the throne room, as he has seen it so many times before. And he will see G'raha Tia.
Even if he never quite expected him to look so small.
He places the soul vessel inside one of the inner pockets of his cloak, safely away from G'raha until he can make the decision for himself. Then clambers up onto the throne. It's massive. Even with G'raha sleeping there, there's room for him to sit next to him.
He would have looked different, when this G'raha last saw him. less scars. The skin of his right arm still mostly smooth instead of a gnarled branch of burns. Countless new scrapes, some small and some massive slices of flesh cut away from his throat. A pale, sickly glow visible in his chest through the cloth of his shirt. Perhaps someone else should have come here. Someone who had changed less, Biggs or Wedge or Rammbroes or Krile.
But he is the one who is here. And it is important that G'raha Tia not wake up alone. And so he sets his burned grey hand upon G'raha's smaller, softer one. And he waits. ]
[ Of course he cannot know that Marcel is next to him. There is no awareness that the Viera is holding his hand. It might end up being quite the surprise, given this G'raha's thoughts regarding the Warrior of Light's opinion of him. Who would have thought that he would have been so valued for Marcel to come and fetch him personally.
Yet the aether in the Tower moves. Systems begin to restore themselves. Processes begin anew. The lights steadily grow brighter and brighter and things begin to stabilize. Marcel will start to feel more at ease as the aether starts to finally flow as it should and even out.
That's when G'raha finally begins to stir. It starts with a gasp, a yawn. One of his ears flick and the tip of his tail twitches. G'raha begins to stretch out. Still groggy and in the works of actually waking up. Of coming into awareness. ]
[ The aether finally starts to move as it should, the noise of it shifting from something choked and painful to something almost musical. A ringing, like a finger running along glass. It's difficult, even now, to tell the difference between aether and his senses.
The clearing of the aether allows him to think, and he finds that he would rather not. He does not want to wonder what if he doesn't wake up. By the time that G'raha stirs his lungs are burning from holding his breath in anticipation, and the sigh of relief that follows is all the louder for it. He watches his movements with the sort of reverence one might usually reserve for the night sky after a century of daylight. ]
You. Are awake. [ He says it softly. Then goes quiet again. Thoughtful. Trying to find the correct word for this. ] Good.
[ His body aches. Lungs burn. It feels like it's been forever since he's breathed properly or even moved. Likely because it's been years. It's been years and yet G'raha doesn't feel as though it's really been long enough. He tries to move his legs, his tail. Even his ears. They are stiff even as he tries to sit properly.
As he tries to look around the room and make sense of what it is that he is seeing. Even though his eyes fall upon Marcel, they aren't really looking at him. Not quite yet. Seeing that he is there, but not really seeing him. ]
[ He should say something. This is the part where he says something. And he doesn’t know what he should say, but it should be something. ]
Hello. My name is Marcel Aan Bestia. It is good to meet you. Thank you.
[ It’s soft and earnest and not entirely the correct way to wake someone. G’raha knows his name. Even if he hasn’t heard it from Marcel himself. So he frowns. Tries again. If he can’t say the correct thing, he will just say all the things until one of them is correct. He tightens his hold on G’raha’s hand, leaning in close. ]
People keep making dolls that look like you. It is very strange. I do not understand why anyone would want these things.
[‘Show him your wind-up G’raha Tia’ is also not correct. ]
Krile is awake. She has missed you. Many people have missed you. [ And then, because he finally realises what he needs to say. ] I have missed you.
[ Ironically, the best response might have been to not respond at all. The way that Marcel seems to rattle off all of this information, all of those words spoken with little to no pausing for G'raha to process them proper, only seems to confuse him more. It makes his head spin as he tries to wake up fully and get a sense of himself.
Marcel. Dolls? Unwanted dolls... And Krile? Krile. She is not -
Missed. People have missed him. People have missed him. Marcel has missed him. Marcel, who, as he recalls, did not seem to care whether or not G'raha had really been around. But gods! Krile. Krile is awake? She survived? Does that mean -
Wait. Wait wait wait. He's awake. He is awake and that is not meant to be! How had he woken up? How had Marcel managed to get in? There are so many thoughts racing now. Thoughts and questions that do not have apparent answers. ]
H-how... W-when?
[ How are you here Marcel? When is this? How long has it been? G'raha licks his lips, eyes squinting and trying to focus, noticing that his hand is being held by the Viera's. Focusing on that point of contact like it is the only thing on the star that is grounding him. ]
[ Words only stop falling out of him - greetings and thanks and apologies and dolls and every other thing that comes to mind - when G'raha speaks in turn. He goes silent at that, ear tilted to best listen, eyes wide with apprehension. This is what it looks like when people wake. He knows that. This is normal. This is good. And yet ha can't help but worry.
Questions. Words that exist at the beginnings of questions, at least. He follows G'raha's gaze down to their joined hands, then looks back to his face. It is strange, now. To see skin there, whole, without crystal clawing its way into it.
Why. That was the last question. And so he answers it. ]
I have missed you because you have been here.
[ Possibly not the answer G'raha was looking for. ]
[ Perhaps, back then, he should have figured out that it's not that Marcel doesn't wish to speak. It's just that he hadn't known how to. That the Viera had been more of a thing than a person upon their initial counter. And yet the stoicism had very much led G'raha to believe that he had been just an annoyance to the Warrior. Hence his bafflement at Marcel claiming that he, G'raha Tia, had been missed.
Which is. Overwhelming. G'raha hadn't thought that there would really be anyone that would miss him. At least not enough to break into the Tower - and Marcel must have done that. How else could he be here right now? But oh Krile is outside and - ]
You... You woke me. Because you missed me?
[ Not that it answers any of the other questions at all, but. This is the one that Marcel had chosen to answer. So it must be the most important? ]
[ And, unfortunately, he doesn't feel like that needs any qualification at all. So the single word just hangs there for a long moment on the aether-saturated air.
He lets go of G'raha's hand after a moment. Rearranges himself until he is sitting more comfortably, taking a moment to smooth out his skirts. Settling in to speak for longer, rather than following his initial plans to just pick G'raha up and remove him from the tower.
It is strange, speaking with him like this. He seems so much more alive than the Exarch. Yet so much more fragile.
He reaches out his hand again, setting it against the crystal of the throne next to G'raha's. ]
There are. Many things, to explain. But this is- the most important of these things. That I would like you to not be here. And to be where I am, instead.
[ And so it does. That single word just throws G'raha for a bit of a loop. Besides the fact that he is just waking up after an extended rest - and that's putting it lightly - and getting his brain to actually process information? This is only prolonging the process as Marcel isn't providing any explanation whatsoever. There's a major disconnect here and G'raha feels as though he might be missing some critical information.
Marcel releases his hand and the Miqo'te feels adrift once more. But then he is trying to move as well. As Marcel shifts and adjusts his position, G'raha winces. His muscles feel stiff. So time has passed. It's taking an effort to sit himself up further on the throne to look at Marcel proper in return. ]
Even. [ Talking even takes energy he's not sure he has at the moment. ] Even if that is the case...
[ Because he finds it hard to believe that however this had all been achieved that it had been because G'raha Tia had been desired. Missed. That people would go through all of this simply for him.
[ He says it as if it's the most simple thing in the world, then goes quiet again. If G'raha didn't wince he might have left it at that. But he does, and he leans in, fussing, and the worry knocks more words loose. He reaches out both arms, offering them. ]
The tower has done its work. Its hope-making. You have done your work. Even if you do not remember. And now you can rest. Instead of sleeping.
[ He doesn't really like the sound of that. It's not that it is particularly ominous, but. How wouldn't he know if he's managed to do something or not? ]
This makes no sense.
[ Marcel isn't making sense. When had he ever talked to much> Granted, the Viera is still not all that expressive, but it's far more than what G'raha himself has seen in the past. There are hands out there for him to take. To steady himself?
He's staring at them. Hard. Trying to will the pieces of all of this to form a coherent picture. ]
[ It's a newfound habit, the hands. One forged in the years since G'raha locked himself away. Something that he can offer in those ever-frequent situations when someone needs words from him that he cannot form. It doesn't matter if G'raha takes them or not. They are there. Will be there, until there is something more appropriate to offer.
He looks down, joining G'raha in staring at his ruined, burn-scarred hands. ]
I. I became dead. Several moons ago. Many people became dead. [ A promising way to start. ] The ironworks did not like this. And so they woke you up. They asked you to use the tower to change it. So that it would have never happened. And so you did. And now it is changed, and I am not dead. Many people are not dead. And you made sandwiches for me.
[ That... Probably isn't the best way to come out and say things of that nature, Marcel. Now all that Raha can focus upon is "I became dead" and "many people became dead." That had been the exact opposite of what he had wanted. People don't just become undead.
Well they do. Just not - augh! That doesn't matter!
G'raha is taking a hold of Marcel's arms. It's uncoordinated and he hasn't really gotten the hang of his fine motorskills yet so his fingers are likely biting into that arm harder than he intends. ]
[ The force of G'raha's grip doesn't concern him too much. Harder than he intends or not, he's not going to come close to the bone-crushing grip strength of a distressed Lyse. Frankly it's a miracle he still has arms left.
Sadly, it hadn't occurred to him that the idea that he died might be distressing. At least not when it was a thing averted. G'raha's distress catches him off-guard, even if his bruising grip does not. ]
It is changed, now. You have changed it, and. [ He frowns in thought, searching for words. ] And I would like to go on a journey with you, please. To see how many people are not dead.
My friend, I know what dead means, but there isn't a method to truly bring the fallen back from the dead. So how can you mean that you and others were once dead and now are not? How would I have contributed to this from inside the Tower?
[ There's no way that he could have changed things. He has been here, asleep. G'raha needs to know. Needs to understand what has happened while he had been under. People potentially dying is the very reason that he had locked himself away. Thus, if they had, then he would have been a failure, not victorious.
His tail is starting to move. It's still stiff in its motions, but coming to life all the same. Those ears are also starting to twitch, tingly and numb. ]
I... Please. Explain.
[ Even the fact that Marcel would want to go on a journey with him is baffling. They... Hadn't been particularly close? Companions, yes. G'raha would like to think friends at least, but it had been so hard to tell. Yet here Marcel is, imploring him like a true long-lost companion. ]
We did not become living again. It was- we did not stop being dead. That we were dead at all was undone, and- [ He's stumbling over his words a little, now. He had thought he was clear, thought he had explained, but he always has struggled with words. There was a reason he always seemed so well-suited to a life of isolation and actions alone. ] -and I will try.
[ He takes a deep breath, focussing on G'raha's fingers digging into the skin of his arms, and tries to coax the Echo into translating where he cannot explain fully. This time when he speaks his lips move, stumbling over words again, but what G'raha hears doesn't match the movement of his lips. It's close, almost, to how a Sharlayan textbook might record events. ]
{An eighth calamity struck, brought about by the death of another star. The surviving members of the Ironworks theorised that the Tower might be modified, allowing it to transport a being to this second star in the time before its destruction.}
[ And he looks up, looking at G'raha's eyes for a moment instead of both of their hands. ]
[ Once more, he's not entirely sure what Marcel is doing or getting at. But the Viera is going to try. And G'raha will try to listen in return.
Which he does. He understands, vaguely, the power being used is the Echo. Yet what he listens to is confusing all the same. Another calamity? The death of another star... ]
I... Understand the words. Yet the implications are just not possible.
[ The echo helps. If nothing else, knowing that he can rely upon it if he struggles again gives him the confidence to start forming his own words once more. ]
There was. An eikon. A metal one, made by the goblins. Capable of moving through time. And a thing asleep beneath Carteneau. Able to move between stars. I have made them gone, so that they cannot hurt people. But the Ironworks have been studying both of these. They made the tower able to do these things. And so you did them.
I. Met a man. Some months ago. In the days before the calamity should have occurred. And he brought me to this other star. There were things that were hurting this star. He asked that I help him make them gone. And so I did. And more things came to hurt it. So he made them stop. And now that star is safe. And so there will not be any calamity. And he-
[ This is where he falters. It's hard to tell, from the outside, whether it's from emotion or from the difficulty of trying to figure out where to say 'he' and where to say 'you'. It's hard to tell from the inside, too. He bites his lip, frowning. ]
-he has let me in to the tower. To see you. And to ask you to be happier than he was. Please.
[ This is... Quite a lot already. G'raha has to take a moment, to try to make everything disjointed make sense. That's not really Marcel's fault. He's absolutely trying and again Raha is shocked to find that the other is speaking so much. Trying so hard to make G'raha understand... Something.
He's just not sure what that something is.
A calamity. One so severe that the survivors thought that they should go back to a time where it could be prevented. This means that they had the technology and ability to integrate it into the Tower. Yet such a feat would require an enormous amount of aether and.
And it would be a one way trip. ]
"He." You keep saying "he."
[ There's no way a thing could be done without waking him. Though G'raha is now starting to wonder who the "he" is in this scenario. For Raha can't imagine that he'd allow anyone to go through this, if he had been alive in this situation. ]
He. Does not like me to call him by your name. [ He pauses. Corrects. ] Did not. The you who woke up after the calamity.
[ He chews on his lip, frowning. ]
He has made a plan. About you. And I love him but I do not like when he makes plans. He makes very bad ones. And you are not his to make plans at. So I would like you to leave here. To journey with me. Or to go back to Sharlayan. Or to stay with Krile. Or to collect large towers of books. Or whatever you would want to do if you were not here. So that you can choose whether you like his plan more than whatever it is you would want to do.
[ That's... That's what he had thought. Or, rather, that's what he had a sinking feeling it could be. Himself. From another time, of course, and now likely displaced. It's not surprising, really. There's no one else who could really have such an intimate knowledge of the Crystal Tower and operate it.
But it's odd. It's odd to hear that plans have been made for the him in the here and now. Marcel is speaking about this version of himself that he doesn't know, but with a word like love. Thus it dawns on G'raha that this attachment, the desire to wake him, comes from a rapport build with this man in the future.
Not necessarily one borne from their time together. ]
What is it, this plan of his?
[ Marcel seems to want his G'raha to make the choice, but it's not really sounding like there's much of one to take. ]
He- he would like to become you again. For you to become him. I do not understand the process. There is a stone, now, and it is holding his soul and his memories and his blood. I used it to enter the tower. It could be used to make you remember becoming him. But he said that there were risks. He said one of you might consume the other. Or that both of you might be harmed. Or-
[ He does not like this. He does not like this at all. His face scrunches in distaste and he does not look up to meet G'raha's eyes. ]
-I do not like this plan. I think it is cruel to ask it of you. And that he thinks it is right to be cruel because you are his to be cruel to. It would be right to let him be dead, and to mourn him, and to come here and tell you that your work is done.
[ Except he doesn't like that, either. He is trying to want that. But his voice shakes, just a little. ]
[ How Marcel managed to get into the Crystal Tower. Isn't this the entire reason why he had put himself in here? Because his blood could be used?
Apparently it doesn't matter. Even should he sleep for as long as he supposedly is meant to, the Crystal Tower will be opened. The technology, the ability will exist. So, then, what is the point of being locked away from the rest of the star? ]
No, I don't. I don't suppose I will be going back to sleep.
[ If nothing else, he wants to see Krile. To hear her voice and see her as it has been brought to his attention would be. A relief.
As for the rest of it, G'raha knows that there are memories within his blood. It's not surprising to hear that he could potentially house another. Odd to think that it is himself and that there is a version of himself that would yet want to live. Who is he, this G'raha Tia, to deny him that? To live a life that this other version clearly wants to have.
There are risks, yes, for anything involving the soul would be risky. Naturally Raha can't understand the particulars, though it seems that this other him clearly had. Yet Marcel doesn't want him to take that option? Would be okay with leaving the soul encased in crystal to just stay where it is? ]
Many would think your tale far-fetched. They may have a hard time believing it. Yet I know you are not one for deception or dishonesty. No, I don't believe you know how to lie at all, really. Not convincingly.
[ So let him at least reassure Marcel that he does, truly, believe everything that he's said. ]
Yet it would not just be him that would be lost, now would it? Those memories would contain moments spent with those that no longer exist - that may never. A sacrifice made that, perhaps, shouldn't be left "dead," so to speak.
[ He looks up at that. Confused. Uncertain. Just like that. Just like that, G'raha agrees to sharing his life. As if he finds himself less conflicted about it than he does himself.
Somehow, it isn't as surprising as it should be. Just as he was in insisting to lead the charge, years ago. Just as he was in locking himself away here. Just as he was in being the one to go to the first. Just as he has been in every plan he ever made, G'raha Tia is infuriatingly cavalier about his own wellbeing. ]
There is not a need for me to perform lying. I am stronger than anyone I could tell lies to.
[ It's less defensive and more the first words he thinks to say. But it is still a little defensive. Because he does frequently find himself needing to lie, and the only way he has of doing so is being very quiet while someone else tells lies for him. And he does stubbornly maintain that any situation that requires deception can be resolved just as easily with truth and an axe. ]
So you know, then. That I have said the truth about how I have missed you. You. And not the other you. It is not good, to not have anyone to tell me the proper names of the things I am fighting. I have to worry that I am calling them the wrong thing.
[ Yes, he still worries about the Phlegethon and Acheron mix-up. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-05 10:12 pm (UTC)His mind tries to tell him he will see all kinds of things, once he steps past the doors of the throne room. The yawning mouth of the void, calling for a pact to be fulfilled. An exhausted scholar refusing to meet his eyes, saying there is still work to be done. A desperate man lashing out in grief. Something small and afraid and exhausted, murmuring apologies to lifeless stones. A man of silent glass. His mind tries to tell him that he will see all of this, and he knows full well that it is lying. He will see the throne room, as he has seen it so many times before. And he will see G'raha Tia.
Even if he never quite expected him to look so small.
He places the soul vessel inside one of the inner pockets of his cloak, safely away from G'raha until he can make the decision for himself. Then clambers up onto the throne. It's massive. Even with G'raha sleeping there, there's room for him to sit next to him.
He would have looked different, when this G'raha last saw him. less scars. The skin of his right arm still mostly smooth instead of a gnarled branch of burns. Countless new scrapes, some small and some massive slices of flesh cut away from his throat. A pale, sickly glow visible in his chest through the cloth of his shirt. Perhaps someone else should have come here. Someone who had changed less, Biggs or Wedge or Rammbroes or Krile.
But he is the one who is here. And it is important that G'raha Tia not wake up alone. And so he sets his burned grey hand upon G'raha's smaller, softer one. And he waits. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-09 10:36 pm (UTC)Yet the aether in the Tower moves. Systems begin to restore themselves. Processes begin anew. The lights steadily grow brighter and brighter and things begin to stabilize. Marcel will start to feel more at ease as the aether starts to finally flow as it should and even out.
That's when G'raha finally begins to stir. It starts with a gasp, a yawn. One of his ears flick and the tip of his tail twitches. G'raha begins to stretch out. Still groggy and in the works of actually waking up. Of coming into awareness. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-10 10:21 pm (UTC)The clearing of the aether allows him to think, and he finds that he would rather not. He does not want to wonder what if he doesn't wake up. By the time that G'raha stirs his lungs are burning from holding his breath in anticipation, and the sigh of relief that follows is all the louder for it. He watches his movements with the sort of reverence one might usually reserve for the night sky after a century of daylight. ]
You. Are awake. [ He says it softly. Then goes quiet again. Thoughtful. Trying to find the correct word for this. ] Good.
(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-17 04:40 am (UTC)As he tries to look around the room and make sense of what it is that he is seeing. Even though his eyes fall upon Marcel, they aren't really looking at him. Not quite yet. Seeing that he is there, but not really seeing him. ]
What...
(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-17 09:48 pm (UTC)Hello. My name is Marcel Aan Bestia. It is good to meet you. Thank you.
[ It’s soft and earnest and not entirely the correct way to wake someone. G’raha knows his name. Even if he hasn’t heard it from Marcel himself. So he frowns. Tries again. If he can’t say the correct thing, he will just say all the things until one of them is correct. He tightens his hold on G’raha’s hand, leaning in close. ]
People keep making dolls that look like you. It is very strange. I do not understand why anyone would want these things.
[‘Show him your wind-up G’raha Tia’ is also not correct. ]
Krile is awake. She has missed you. Many people have missed you. [ And then, because he finally realises what he needs to say. ] I have missed you.
(no subject)
Date: 2022-10-24 05:47 am (UTC)Marcel. Dolls? Unwanted dolls... And Krile? Krile. She is not -
Missed. People have missed him. People have missed him. Marcel has missed him. Marcel, who, as he recalls, did not seem to care whether or not G'raha had really been around. But gods! Krile. Krile is awake? She survived? Does that mean -
Wait. Wait wait wait. He's awake. He is awake and that is not meant to be! How had he woken up? How had Marcel managed to get in? There are so many thoughts racing now. Thoughts and questions that do not have apparent answers. ]
H-how... W-when?
[ How are you here Marcel? When is this? How long has it been? G'raha licks his lips, eyes squinting and trying to focus, noticing that his hand is being held by the Viera's. Focusing on that point of contact like it is the only thing on the star that is grounding him. ]
Why?
(no subject)
Date: 2022-12-31 01:47 am (UTC)Questions. Words that exist at the beginnings of questions, at least. He follows G'raha's gaze down to their joined hands, then looks back to his face. It is strange, now. To see skin there, whole, without crystal clawing its way into it.
Why. That was the last question. And so he answers it. ]
I have missed you because you have been here.
[ Possibly not the answer G'raha was looking for. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-02 01:18 am (UTC)Which is. Overwhelming. G'raha hadn't thought that there would really be anyone that would miss him. At least not enough to break into the Tower - and Marcel must have done that. How else could he be here right now? But oh Krile is outside and - ]
You... You woke me. Because you missed me?
[ Not that it answers any of the other questions at all, but. This is the one that Marcel had chosen to answer. So it must be the most important? ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-02 01:45 am (UTC)[ And, unfortunately, he doesn't feel like that needs any qualification at all. So the single word just hangs there for a long moment on the aether-saturated air.
He lets go of G'raha's hand after a moment. Rearranges himself until he is sitting more comfortably, taking a moment to smooth out his skirts. Settling in to speak for longer, rather than following his initial plans to just pick G'raha up and remove him from the tower.
It is strange, speaking with him like this. He seems so much more alive than the Exarch. Yet so much more fragile.
He reaches out his hand again, setting it against the crystal of the throne next to G'raha's. ]
There are. Many things, to explain. But this is- the most important of these things. That I would like you to not be here. And to be where I am, instead.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-02 02:19 am (UTC)Marcel releases his hand and the Miqo'te feels adrift once more. But then he is trying to move as well. As Marcel shifts and adjusts his position, G'raha winces. His muscles feel stiff. So time has passed. It's taking an effort to sit himself up further on the throne to look at Marcel proper in return. ]
Even. [ Talking even takes energy he's not sure he has at the moment. ] Even if that is the case...
[ Because he finds it hard to believe that however this had all been achieved that it had been because G'raha Tia had been desired. Missed. That people would go through all of this simply for him.
There's another reason. There has to be. ]
I chose this. I-it was necessary.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-02 02:51 am (UTC)[ He says it as if it's the most simple thing in the world, then goes quiet again. If G'raha didn't wince he might have left it at that. But he does, and he leans in, fussing, and the worry knocks more words loose. He reaches out both arms, offering them. ]
The tower has done its work. Its hope-making. You have done your work. Even if you do not remember. And now you can rest. Instead of sleeping.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-07 06:00 pm (UTC)[ He doesn't really like the sound of that. It's not that it is particularly ominous, but. How wouldn't he know if he's managed to do something or not? ]
This makes no sense.
[ Marcel isn't making sense. When had he ever talked to much> Granted, the Viera is still not all that expressive, but it's far more than what G'raha himself has seen in the past. There are hands out there for him to take. To steady himself?
He's staring at them. Hard. Trying to will the pieces of all of this to form a coherent picture. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-07 06:54 pm (UTC)He looks down, joining G'raha in staring at his ruined, burn-scarred hands. ]
I. I became dead. Several moons ago. Many people became dead. [ A promising way to start. ] The ironworks did not like this. And so they woke you up. They asked you to use the tower to change it. So that it would have never happened. And so you did. And now it is changed, and I am not dead. Many people are not dead. And you made sandwiches for me.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-07 09:40 pm (UTC)Well they do. Just not - augh! That doesn't matter!
G'raha is taking a hold of Marcel's arms. It's uncoordinated and he hasn't really gotten the hang of his fine motorskills yet so his fingers are likely biting into that arm harder than he intends. ]
Dead? What do you mean dead!?
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-07 10:03 pm (UTC)[ The force of G'raha's grip doesn't concern him too much. Harder than he intends or not, he's not going to come close to the bone-crushing grip strength of a distressed Lyse. Frankly it's a miracle he still has arms left.
Sadly, it hadn't occurred to him that the idea that he died might be distressing. At least not when it was a thing averted. G'raha's distress catches him off-guard, even if his bruising grip does not. ]
It is changed, now. You have changed it, and. [ He frowns in thought, searching for words. ] And I would like to go on a journey with you, please. To see how many people are not dead.
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Date: 2023-01-07 10:35 pm (UTC)[ There's no way that he could have changed things. He has been here, asleep. G'raha needs to know. Needs to understand what has happened while he had been under. People potentially dying is the very reason that he had locked himself away. Thus, if they had, then he would have been a failure, not victorious.
His tail is starting to move. It's still stiff in its motions, but coming to life all the same. Those ears are also starting to twitch, tingly and numb. ]
I... Please. Explain.
[ Even the fact that Marcel would want to go on a journey with him is baffling. They... Hadn't been particularly close? Companions, yes. G'raha would like to think friends at least, but it had been so hard to tell. Yet here Marcel is, imploring him like a true long-lost companion. ]
None of this makes any sort of sense.
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Date: 2023-01-07 11:02 pm (UTC)[ He takes a deep breath, focussing on G'raha's fingers digging into the skin of his arms, and tries to coax the Echo into translating where he cannot explain fully. This time when he speaks his lips move, stumbling over words again, but what G'raha hears doesn't match the movement of his lips. It's close, almost, to how a Sharlayan textbook might record events. ]
{An eighth calamity struck, brought about by the death of another star. The surviving members of the Ironworks theorised that the Tower might be modified, allowing it to transport a being to this second star in the time before its destruction.}
[ And he looks up, looking at G'raha's eyes for a moment instead of both of their hands. ]
This. You understand this?
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Date: 2023-01-08 01:44 am (UTC)Which he does. He understands, vaguely, the power being used is the Echo. Yet what he listens to is confusing all the same. Another calamity? The death of another star... ]
I... Understand the words. Yet the implications are just not possible.
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Date: 2023-01-08 02:54 pm (UTC)There was. An eikon. A metal one, made by the goblins. Capable of moving through time. And a thing asleep beneath Carteneau. Able to move between stars. I have made them gone, so that they cannot hurt people. But the Ironworks have been studying both of these. They made the tower able to do these things. And so you did them.
I. Met a man. Some months ago. In the days before the calamity should have occurred. And he brought me to this other star. There were things that were hurting this star. He asked that I help him make them gone. And so I did. And more things came to hurt it. So he made them stop. And now that star is safe. And so there will not be any calamity. And he-
[ This is where he falters. It's hard to tell, from the outside, whether it's from emotion or from the difficulty of trying to figure out where to say 'he' and where to say 'you'. It's hard to tell from the inside, too. He bites his lip, frowning. ]
-he has let me in to the tower. To see you. And to ask you to be happier than he was. Please.
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Date: 2023-01-08 04:40 pm (UTC)He's just not sure what that something is.
A calamity. One so severe that the survivors thought that they should go back to a time where it could be prevented. This means that they had the technology and ability to integrate it into the Tower. Yet such a feat would require an enormous amount of aether and.
And it would be a one way trip. ]
"He." You keep saying "he."
[ There's no way a thing could be done without waking him. Though G'raha is now starting to wonder who the "he" is in this scenario. For Raha can't imagine that he'd allow anyone to go through this, if he had been alive in this situation. ]
Who.
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Date: 2023-01-08 07:39 pm (UTC)[ He chews on his lip, frowning. ]
He has made a plan. About you. And I love him but I do not like when he makes plans. He makes very bad ones. And you are not his to make plans at. So I would like you to leave here. To journey with me. Or to go back to Sharlayan. Or to stay with Krile. Or to collect large towers of books. Or whatever you would want to do if you were not here. So that you can choose whether you like his plan more than whatever it is you would want to do.
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Date: 2023-01-08 09:19 pm (UTC)But it's odd. It's odd to hear that plans have been made for the him in the here and now. Marcel is speaking about this version of himself that he doesn't know, but with a word like love. Thus it dawns on G'raha that this attachment, the desire to wake him, comes from a rapport build with this man in the future.
Not necessarily one borne from their time together. ]
What is it, this plan of his?
[ Marcel seems to want his G'raha to make the choice, but it's not really sounding like there's much of one to take. ]
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Date: 2023-01-08 10:16 pm (UTC)[ He does not like this. He does not like this at all. His face scrunches in distaste and he does not look up to meet G'raha's eyes. ]
-I do not like this plan. I think it is cruel to ask it of you. And that he thinks it is right to be cruel because you are his to be cruel to. It would be right to let him be dead, and to mourn him, and to come here and tell you that your work is done.
[ Except he doesn't like that, either. He is trying to want that. But his voice shakes, just a little. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-08 10:46 pm (UTC)[ How Marcel managed to get into the Crystal Tower. Isn't this the entire reason why he had put himself in here? Because his blood could be used?
Apparently it doesn't matter. Even should he sleep for as long as he supposedly is meant to, the Crystal Tower will be opened. The technology, the ability will exist. So, then, what is the point of being locked away from the rest of the star? ]
No, I don't. I don't suppose I will be going back to sleep.
[ If nothing else, he wants to see Krile. To hear her voice and see her as it has been brought to his attention would be. A relief.
As for the rest of it, G'raha knows that there are memories within his blood. It's not surprising to hear that he could potentially house another. Odd to think that it is himself and that there is a version of himself that would yet want to live. Who is he, this G'raha Tia, to deny him that? To live a life that this other version clearly wants to have.
There are risks, yes, for anything involving the soul would be risky. Naturally Raha can't understand the particulars, though it seems that this other him clearly had. Yet Marcel doesn't want him to take that option? Would be okay with leaving the soul encased in crystal to just stay where it is? ]
Many would think your tale far-fetched. They may have a hard time believing it. Yet I know you are not one for deception or dishonesty. No, I don't believe you know how to lie at all, really. Not convincingly.
[ So let him at least reassure Marcel that he does, truly, believe everything that he's said. ]
Yet it would not just be him that would be lost, now would it? Those memories would contain moments spent with those that no longer exist - that may never. A sacrifice made that, perhaps, shouldn't be left "dead," so to speak.
(no subject)
Date: 2023-01-08 11:19 pm (UTC)Somehow, it isn't as surprising as it should be. Just as he was in insisting to lead the charge, years ago. Just as he was in locking himself away here. Just as he was in being the one to go to the first. Just as he has been in every plan he ever made, G'raha Tia is infuriatingly cavalier about his own wellbeing. ]
There is not a need for me to perform lying. I am stronger than anyone I could tell lies to.
[ It's less defensive and more the first words he thinks to say. But it is still a little defensive. Because he does frequently find himself needing to lie, and the only way he has of doing so is being very quiet while someone else tells lies for him. And he does stubbornly maintain that any situation that requires deception can be resolved just as easily with truth and an axe. ]
So you know, then. That I have said the truth about how I have missed you. You. And not the other you. It is not good, to not have anyone to tell me the proper names of the things I am fighting. I have to worry that I am calling them the wrong thing.
[ Yes, he still worries about the Phlegethon and Acheron mix-up. ]
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