[Chiron will drop his fingers once he has finished his exploration, but it is a thorough one, the parts of him that are the curious sage driven forward by curiosity and the strange sense of freedom that comes with the moment.]
I admit, it is difficult for me to imagine you in robes.
[The corners of his mouth picking up at the faint ting of the metal decorations.]
There is a lack of vulnerability that comes with layers. [None may know you when there is so much to peel back. Poke around too much and you might find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun]
[thorough as it is, emet-selch does not pull away from it once started-- he will see it through, allowing the contact up until the point where chiron's hands drop once more.]
So there is- but in those days, there was no need for any more than the mask.
[it was enough of a barrier when he did need one, and the walls were not as necessary.
he exhales a slow breath, though, before:]
...I meant that literally enough, however. I do not remember whose body it is that I now occupy.
[genuinely why the fuck does he wear this outfit.]
[he's listening, but after chiron finishes trying to tell him, there's a second of silence before a frustrated huff of breath.]
--the details escape me, even when reminded so. 'Tis all hazy-- I recall some few events from this body's life, and yet... all the pieces which might make any of it fall into place are missing.
[only that, is it. it's a small relief that chiron is blinded, that he cannot see any shift in expression as emet-selch takes in that answer.]
I am sure there are those who would remember your life, regardless.
But I am not certain you said before-- just how long have you existed?
[he wants to confirm. if it's his entire nature that he's forgotten, if it's the very thing that first piqued emet-selch's curiosity and the reason they have understood each other...
Do you recall, at the least, why it is that you go by Archer?
[let him at least have that part of his longevity; the loss that is already there is enough, and he finds he hates it. terrible enough for his own memories to suffer, but in spending as much time with a fellow immortal as he has with chiron--
it's too familiar. it is too like watching his only other unsundered companion slowly lose himself. it is too much like the sinking feeling at noting the small ways in which memories of their world stopped being shared, and became emet-selch's alone.
so long as i remember my duty, that is enough, elidibus had said.
it wasn't. it isn't now. but they can only cling to what they have yet to lose.]
History remembered my even tempered nature and my students... and so I was recorded into the Throne.
[that is answered with swiftness, even if there is now a trace of fatigue added to his response. It bothers that he cannot see his companion, cannot guess how he should conduct himself when apparently something important is missing from him.
His shoulder rests against one of the walls]
And so I was summoned into a Holy Grail War, only to be killed by my student and lose. I will die again once all of this is concluded.
[and there, for perhaps the first time since Chiron has recalled this tale, he feels a trace of defeat in his chest.]
[he has no choice, really, but that at least does not inspire any bitterness inside of him. And as fleeting it is, tranquillity seems to overtake him once more, his eyes settling closed]
I cannot change what has happened. And though I am losing pieces of myself, I still feel as if I was... satisfied, all the same.
[as long as he has that much, it will be enough for now.]
Ah- you asked before, if there is aught else I would have you know. If you are to take possession of my crystal in the event of my death, then there is something you should know of it.
[there's a second of hesitation, because he is no longer sure what chiron might think of this-- but if he ever takes possession of the crystal, he'll learn regardless.
emet-selch places it in one of chiron's hands, and as he takes hold of it... a voice echoes in his head.]
Chiron's eyes open, slits of quiet assessment as he pauses with the voice lingering in his mind long after it goes silent. His memories of himself are splintered at this point, and he knows it, but he has not spent the last few days reciting and remembering what he must of Emet's past for no reason.
It doesn't take much effort for him to jump to conclusions]
The world was shattered, but what was broken may be repaired.
[his voice is quiet, there.]
We are simply restoring it to the way it once was. The way it was meant to be. The price-- [less quiet, now-] is that it is a long and arduous task, one spanning eons, and which is yet only half complete.
... And you will be extracting the necessary ether from the current inhabitants.
[Chiron doesn't know for certain. These are merely his guesses given voice; but it's much as he thought before, when Emet had first told him of his utopia, his people.
Yes. But you must first understand that they are not truly lives at all.
[a rustle of fabric, as he shakes his head.]
Hydaelyn's singular powers of enervation are such that, were she to strike a single person, the result would be two individuals, identical in appearance... yet reduced in all respects. The soul, the intelligence, the very self is all diminished by half. Now... imagine if this were not a single division, but shattering into fourteen. 'Tis like to a glass being broken-- none would pick up the shard of a broken one and call it a cup, nor try to drink from it.
[and as he finishes, he just sounds... weary. tired, and melancholy.]
They are naught but fragmented existences, Archer. Ones which do not even know what they are. What they once were.
[the weariness creeps into Chiron's voice, most likely an echo of what the other feels... but the centaur can see the signs by this point. 13,000 years of life thriving, ugly and incomplete though it might be, tenaciously clinging to all that it knows--
Emet's vision is beautiful, sacred even, but life has never cared for such nuances.
There is no future Chiron can imagine where his friend won't lose]
Could you force them -- would they even allow it?
[bowing his head, mouth pulled into a line of dismay]
The more fragile the life, the more insistent they are in claiming their rights to exist in this universe. They will discard you in the same manner that humans turned their backs on the gods of humanity.
They have tried to defy us, yes, and they will continue to cling to these fragile existences they call lives-- but still we have half completed our work. Still we have fought for our world, for our one true god, to be made whole once more... and souls such as ours are not so easily destroyed.
[the weariness is still there-- but there's determination in his voice as well, resolute in this path.]
Our friends, our family, our loved ones... they gave of their lives for Him, for the world that we loved. For the star which we guided and nurtured for untold years, in a time before time.
Who would I be to give any less, when I bear their hopes, their dreams, their despair upon my own soul?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I admit, it is difficult for me to imagine you in robes.
[The corners of his mouth picking up at the faint ting of the metal decorations.]
There is a lack of vulnerability that comes with layers. [None may know you when there is so much to peel back. Poke around too much and you might find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun]
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So there is- but in those days, there was no need for any more than the mask.
[it was enough of a barrier when he did need one, and the walls were not as necessary.
he exhales a slow breath, though, before:]
...I meant that literally enough, however. I do not remember whose body it is that I now occupy.
[genuinely why the fuck does he wear this outfit.]
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I never received the name of that particular vessel. [Because he never asked, and oh does he feel foolish for keeping his questions to himself now]
Only that it once became an emperor as you sought to build a nation to your liking, and it is one of your more preferred forms nowadays.
[He has no idea if any of this information is helping, and so his blank stare watches over Emet-Selch with some measure of concern]
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--the details escape me, even when reminded so. 'Tis all hazy-- I recall some few events from this body's life, and yet... all the pieces which might make any of it fall into place are missing.
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[asking with delicacy, but he needs to know how much of Emet's memory he's keeping safe at this point. And as if to further emphasize such:]
And if there any other such memories you'd want to keep with me, until our duties here are finished...
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[quieter, more solemn. he still has that. he can still hold on to that.]
I recall other vessels of mine, my previous works, and the duty I have ever held to. Only this one's life is missing.
And you? Do you know what you have lost now-- are you still aware of what you will return to?
[he'll get around to saying more in a minute, maybe.]
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[there is a note of bemusement to his voice, though the answer is genuine.
And yet.]
I am only a centaur. My death is hardly anything of importance.
[why did he ever care to tell people he had died in the first place? It is not as if he can do much]
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I am sure there are those who would remember your life, regardless.
But I am not certain you said before-- just how long have you existed?
[he wants to confirm. if it's his entire nature that he's forgotten, if it's the very thing that first piqued emet-selch's curiosity and the reason they have understood each other...
he truly does hate this realm.]
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I am long lived... I cannot remember my age, it's been too long.
[his sightless gaze turns to one of his upturned hands]
My parents... I do not recall them. Centaurs are--
[they come from somewhere as all creatures do, and yet chiron feels a prick of sweat break against the back of his neck as nothing comes to mind]
I was considered special... I thought. The gods took me to their lessons, to prove that centaurs could be civilized.
[he was just a happy experiment. That is all.]
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[he says it almost as more of a sigh.]
Do you recall, at the least, why it is that you go by Archer?
[let him at least have that part of his longevity; the loss that is already there is enough, and he finds he hates it. terrible enough for his own memories to suffer, but in spending as much time with a fellow immortal as he has with chiron--
it's too familiar. it is too like watching his only other unsundered companion slowly lose himself. it is too much like the sinking feeling at noting the small ways in which memories of their world stopped being shared, and became emet-selch's alone.
so long as i remember my duty, that is enough, elidibus had said.
it wasn't. it isn't now. but they can only cling to what they have yet to lose.]
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[that is answered with swiftness, even if there is now a trace of fatigue added to his response. It bothers that he cannot see his companion, cannot guess how he should conduct himself when apparently something important is missing from him.
His shoulder rests against one of the walls]
And so I was summoned into a Holy Grail War, only to be killed by my student and lose. I will die again once all of this is concluded.
[and there, for perhaps the first time since Chiron has recalled this tale, he feels a trace of defeat in his chest.]
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[it's the most important question, for now. he still needs to gauge what he had promised he would.]
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[he has no choice, really, but that at least does not inspire any bitterness inside of him. And as fleeting it is, tranquillity seems to overtake him once more, his eyes settling closed]
I cannot change what has happened. And though I am losing pieces of myself, I still feel as if I was... satisfied, all the same.
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[as long as he has that much, it will be enough for now.]
Ah- you asked before, if there is aught else I would have you know. If you are to take possession of my crystal in the event of my death, then there is something you should know of it.
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Yes, of course. What is it?
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[there's a second of hesitation, because he is no longer sure what chiron might think of this-- but if he ever takes possession of the crystal, he'll learn regardless.
emet-selch places it in one of chiron's hands, and as he takes hold of it... a voice echoes in his head.]
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Chiron's eyes open, slits of quiet assessment as he pauses with the voice lingering in his mind long after it goes silent. His memories of himself are splintered at this point, and he knows it, but he has not spent the last few days reciting and remembering what he must of Emet's past for no reason.
It doesn't take much effort for him to jump to conclusions]
Whose voice is this?
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[though clearly, it is not the voice he has in this body. he says nothing further, though, allowing chiron to draw any conclusions first.]
1/2
What was it that you planned to build, Emet-Selch?
[An empire spanning centuries is what he'd been told, and he believes him, but not once had context been properly explained.
Chiron knew that and still never asked.
He's asking now]
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The time for waiting patiently for Emet to tell him truths is at an end today. Chiron's second question is direct as the first]
What is the price for renewing your god and people?
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[his voice is quiet, there.]
We are simply restoring it to the way it once was. The way it was meant to be. The price-- [less quiet, now-] is that it is a long and arduous task, one spanning eons, and which is yet only half complete.
There is much work to be done, still.
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[Chiron doesn't know for certain. These are merely his guesses given voice; but it's much as he thought before, when Emet had first told him of his utopia, his people.
There is a price that must always be paid]
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[a rustle of fabric, as he shakes his head.]
Hydaelyn's singular powers of enervation are such that, were she to strike a single person, the result would be two individuals, identical in appearance... yet reduced in all respects. The soul, the intelligence, the very self is all diminished by half. Now... imagine if this were not a single division, but shattering into fourteen. 'Tis like to a glass being broken-- none would pick up the shard of a broken one and call it a cup, nor try to drink from it.
[and as he finishes, he just sounds... weary. tired, and melancholy.]
They are naught but fragmented existences, Archer. Ones which do not even know what they are. What they once were.
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[the weariness creeps into Chiron's voice, most likely an echo of what the other feels... but the centaur can see the signs by this point. 13,000 years of life thriving, ugly and incomplete though it might be, tenaciously clinging to all that it knows--
Emet's vision is beautiful, sacred even, but life has never cared for such nuances.
There is no future Chiron can imagine where his friend won't lose]
Could you force them -- would they even allow it?
[bowing his head, mouth pulled into a line of dismay]
The more fragile the life, the more insistent they are in claiming their rights to exist in this universe. They will discard you in the same manner that humans turned their backs on the gods of humanity.
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[the weariness is still there-- but there's determination in his voice as well, resolute in this path.]
Our friends, our family, our loved ones... they gave of their lives for Him, for the world that we loved. For the star which we guided and nurtured for untold years, in a time before time.
Who would I be to give any less, when I bear their hopes, their dreams, their despair upon my own soul?
If they wish to discard me, I bid them try.
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