I don't suppose the rooms we were given would be very comfortable for you, no.
[his poor horse butt in a hammock. how did he get out this morning.
emet-selch peers at his work with interest, though!]
Getting started already, are you... you do work quickly. But somewhat relatedly-
[he. he pulls out a gun.]
It seems these places can be quite useful. No ammunition for the thing, unfortunately, so I am afraid it won't be too helpful yet, but should you come across any...
I would say you work quickly as well. Fortune has smiled upon you today.
[He should be more shocked but honestly Chiron is just deeply amused by this, and sets the bow down for a moment]
I do not have much experience with this type of weaponry, but I suspect wooden bullets would not suffice... though yes, I will keep an eye out for you.
They may, with some experimentation-- but I would not abandon your work either, in case they should not.
[he likes to leave his options open.
anyway, he steps closer, and the emotionshare that he has yet to really experience kicks in; from emet-selch's end, the immediately noticable feeling is just something contemplative, relatively neutral and thoughtful.
below that, as more of a background feeling, there is a sense of exhaustion, as if from a constant burden, and a lingering touch of something more sad that feels more like grief than anything else. those are just-- consistent. fainter, but there.]
[With so many years to his name, it's no wonder that Chiron knows himself very well. People expect a certain tranquility about him, and it is true -- from his end Emet-Selch will feel very little besides a profound sense of duty coupled with an unyielding calm, like a large forest that's on the verge of sunset.
So -- he knows, immediately, that those feelings of grief and exhaustion do not belong to him]
The Realm is meddling again.
[A little too late, but Chiron still makes an attempt to save the other from oversharing, even though the concerned gaze shot in Emet's direction makes it clear something bled over.]
[the sense of duty is not strange to him, but he knows what is not his, too-- and that unyielding calm isn't his own. he draws back with a slight scowl, putting himself out of range; if he felt something from chiron, the other undoubtedly did too, and the concerned look does his mood few favors.]
--so it is. Just as we're given a reprieve from what we have suffered the last two weeks, it sees fit to force this upon us.
Going forward, I think it wise to assume there will be some manner of something forced upon us every week.
[Watch next week there's just no effect specifically to spite Chiron.
In any case, he will go back to the bow, not wanting to admit that the sudden change in atmosphere has made his fingers restless. Will that bleed over between them as well? Likely not -- Emet-Selch was very quick to back away.]
... I dislike tiptoeing around unspoken discomfort -- so if you prefer me to say nothing about what I felt, then the matter is closed.
[He's no child when it comes to communication. For two weeks he deferred to the other's comfort levels, and he's not about to stop because of a minor inconvenience]
[the thing is, he likes chiron's lack of prying. it's comfortable. he knows he won't be questioned, has come to expect the lack of expectation to share anything-- and so he simply hasn't.
at that, he exhales a humorless little huff of a laugh.]
As it tends to be, with you. A welcome change from being asked-- and yet I must imagine you harbor some curiosity. You are an instructor, your data calls you sage... I would be very surprised, did you not at least wonder.
[a slight pause, then:]
I would first know what it is you are able to feel, exactly.
[... Emet-Selch isn't wrong. Chiron knows better than to deny it, instead glancing at him from the corner of his eyes, assessing.
The truth is he kept his curiosity to himself because ... well. It is not his place to ask what lies in the hearts of his fellow immortals. Emet-Selch isn't a student seeking refuge in a teacher's knowledge. At baseline, he stands as an equal, and Chiron wouldn't be surprised if the other knew more than he did about the workings of the universe.
But a question has been asked of him, and like always, Chiron will answer it truthfully]
[... Also frowning as he realizes -- well. That's par for the course here, isn't it? He pauses with a narrowed glance, picking through his memories as best he can]
You mentioned the Convocation of Fourteen, but I do not know if those are even considered gods where you are from.
No, we are not. But-- therein lies part of the problem, as things stand here. I know full well we were fourteen, and yet there are but twelve I recall with any clarity.
[the hard lines of his expression make it more than clear that he hates that, thank you. it's maddening, that these things slip away so easily.]
...others have learned pieces of this history, but none have them together. I may yet lose more that I cannot allow to be fully lost, else there will be none in any world who remember.
[he doesn't think he needs to say it outright, but-- the information needs to be with someone else besides himself. the respect for his privacy has been enough to prove where it is safest.]
[His own memories have taken damage, but it's much like he told Emet-Selch during their earlier conversations -- he is so well-known in lore that it doesn't matter if he forgets. The legacy of the wise centaur will outlive him. And that is enough.
So it's difficult to conceptualize a reality where that wouldn't be true. That it's Emet's reality gives him great pause before he sighs, and then nods once, turning his eyes on the other.
[there's a pause, before he continues. this still is not something he's had much cause to share, but:]
I must first begin with the nature of gods-- what are called primals. Normally elementally aspected deities, brought into being by their followers, given form with prayer and sacrifice. But mortals are not capable of sustaining them alone, and thus they must still feed on aether to sustain their shape, draining the very land around them. Their followers, too, become suffused with the primal's aether-- any mortal too near them may be affected. Tempered to follow their new god's will.
Such is the way of these beings now, with the practices we have taught the mortals of recent ages... but these pale in comparison to the eldest and most powerful. To what we created to save our world.
It was falling apart. We were dying, despite our longevity-- a disruption occurred in our control of our abilities, and creation ran wild, begetting nightmares and fiends borne of our unconscious fears... and then feeding upon the new fear they caused. Nothing short of an apocalypse-- everything burning around us, everyone left with their fear and uncertainty. The seas ran red, the sun bent low-- the wind lay stagnant.
[his tone is more somber, slightly distant with the recollection.]
... and so the Convocation reached a decision. We would rewrite the very laws of reality that already were being broken-- we would awaken the will of the star itself, in the form of the first true god. Zodiark.
Creation on such a level required... immense amounts of aether. More than we could simply sustain.
[he hasn't been looking at chiron-- but he does, now.]
Half our people gave of their own lives, that their sacrifice might save the remaining half. And so it did-- with His power, He did bring our world back from the brink.
...even though the world was saved, the damage was done. It was a barren one, the earth left scorched, the seas still and dead.
Another half of our remaining population gave of themselves to Zodiark, that He might bring life back into our world, and thus it began to flourish once more. Our decision was to continue our work as stewards of the Star, to nurture this new life, and when it was full to bursting with vitality... offer a portion of it unto Him once more, to restore all of our people who sacrificed themselves.
[and here, his expression is harder to read, but there is an edge in his voice.]
Yet not all understood. They would call forth their own god in opposition.
[he is of the Convocation-- of course he held to their course. the tension doesn't go unnoticed, but emet-selch doesn't look surprised at it either.]
Oh, don't look at me like that. We only did our duty-- we would not take of the world unduly, before its full restoration, before the energy could be spared. It was the best solution we had.
Or so one would think, at the least. A member of the Convocation left their seat in dissent, siding with those who would summon Hydaelyn, and once She was given form... She battled Zodiark.
They fought, and they fought, until with her final blow, She sundered and bound him-- but as you know, He is the awakened will of our very Star. In delivering such a blow to Him, so too did She split the very fabric of reality, shattering the world and everything upon it.
Would that I could tell you. Mayhap then more of us would have been spared.
[the breath he exhales is heavy with the weight of the words.]
Two of us survived intact. Myself, and the Emissary. Every other life on the star was fragmented with the world itself, leaving one core world-- the Source-- and ten and three reflections of it.
But the worst part was that none of them could remember it. Not truly. Only fragments of memory, fleeting recollections of a familiar world, an ache within the soul at it that none could place.
[... Is that not a worse loneliness, Chiron wonders -- to have others beside you who will never truly understand?
When he was poisoned -- when he was suffering but couldn't die -- maybe the legends never gave a specific timeline, but Chiron remembers it could not have been longer than a couple of years at best. A physical pain, but still a burden, and he had run straight into death's embrace rather than shoulder it when the opportunity presented itself.
Chiron lasted a few years, and Emet-Selch, not even a deity, has managed 13,000 so far.
He drops his eyes to the ground and says nothing.]
[he doesn't need to say anything, really. emet-selch doesn't mind the silence; it is a heavy thing to ask someone else to remember, someone who is not one of his own people. i forget if he ever sat down but if not then he does now, sighing as he settles and lets himself lean back against a tree.]
...I have considered, at times, cutting that short. Remaining within the rift between worlds and simply drifting-- letting go of the sense of self which holds me to the living, waking world.
But I cannot abandon our brethren. Our legacy. Our god, still yet to be made whole.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[his poor horse butt in a hammock. how did he get out this morning.
emet-selch peers at his work with interest, though!]
Getting started already, are you... you do work quickly. But somewhat relatedly-
[he. he pulls out a gun.]
It seems these places can be quite useful. No ammunition for the thing, unfortunately, so I am afraid it won't be too helpful yet, but should you come across any...
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I would say you work quickly as well. Fortune has smiled upon you today.
[He should be more shocked but honestly Chiron is just deeply amused by this, and sets the bow down for a moment]
I do not have much experience with this type of weaponry, but I suspect wooden bullets would not suffice... though yes, I will keep an eye out for you.
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[he likes to leave his options open.
anyway, he steps closer, and the emotionshare that he has yet to really experience kicks in; from emet-selch's end, the immediately noticable feeling is just something contemplative, relatively neutral and thoughtful.
below that, as more of a background feeling, there is a sense of exhaustion, as if from a constant burden, and a lingering touch of something more sad that feels more like grief than anything else. those are just-- consistent. fainter, but there.]
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So -- he knows, immediately, that those feelings of grief and exhaustion do not belong to him]
The Realm is meddling again.
[A little too late, but Chiron still makes an attempt to save the other from oversharing, even though the concerned gaze shot in Emet's direction makes it clear something bled over.]
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--so it is. Just as we're given a reprieve from what we have suffered the last two weeks, it sees fit to force this upon us.
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[Watch next week there's just no effect specifically to spite Chiron.
In any case, he will go back to the bow, not wanting to admit that the sudden change in atmosphere has made his fingers restless. Will that bleed over between them as well? Likely not -- Emet-Selch was very quick to back away.]
... I dislike tiptoeing around unspoken discomfort -- so if you prefer me to say nothing about what I felt, then the matter is closed.
[He's no child when it comes to communication. For two weeks he deferred to the other's comfort levels, and he's not about to stop because of a minor inconvenience]
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at that, he exhales a humorless little huff of a laugh.]
As it tends to be, with you. A welcome change from being asked-- and yet I must imagine you harbor some curiosity. You are an instructor, your data calls you sage... I would be very surprised, did you not at least wonder.
[a slight pause, then:]
I would first know what it is you are able to feel, exactly.
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The truth is he kept his curiosity to himself because ... well. It is not his place to ask what lies in the hearts of his fellow immortals. Emet-Selch isn't a student seeking refuge in a teacher's knowledge. At baseline, he stands as an equal, and Chiron wouldn't be surprised if the other knew more than he did about the workings of the universe.
But a question has been asked of him, and like always, Chiron will answer it truthfully]
A heavy burden. A sense of grief.
[Life has not been kind to you, Emet-Selch]
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[his shoulders bend just slightly more, as if beneath that same weight, before he straightens back to his usual level of slouch.
and with the apparent fuzziness of some memories from this place-- he frowns slightly, focusing.]
I-- do not recall if I have fully explained the nature of gods, before, when we discussed yours... no, I am certain I did not.
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[... Also frowning as he realizes -- well. That's par for the course here, isn't it? He pauses with a narrowed glance, picking through his memories as best he can]
You mentioned the Convocation of Fourteen, but I do not know if those are even considered gods where you are from.
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[the hard lines of his expression make it more than clear that he hates that, thank you. it's maddening, that these things slip away so easily.]
...others have learned pieces of this history, but none have them together. I may yet lose more that I cannot allow to be fully lost, else there will be none in any world who remember.
[he doesn't think he needs to say it outright, but-- the information needs to be with someone else besides himself. the respect for his privacy has been enough to prove where it is safest.]
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So it's difficult to conceptualize a reality where that wouldn't be true. That it's Emet's reality gives him great pause before he sighs, and then nods once, turning his eyes on the other.
Yes... he understands. He's listening.]
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I must first begin with the nature of gods-- what are called primals. Normally elementally aspected deities, brought into being by their followers, given form with prayer and sacrifice. But mortals are not capable of sustaining them alone, and thus they must still feed on aether to sustain their shape, draining the very land around them. Their followers, too, become suffused with the primal's aether-- any mortal too near them may be affected. Tempered to follow their new god's will.
Such is the way of these beings now, with the practices we have taught the mortals of recent ages... but these pale in comparison to the eldest and most powerful. To what we created to save our world.
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Similar to my gods, then... though after they are brought into life by worship, they can mostly sustain themselves so long as humans believe in them.
[-- Frankly? He's already frowning. That is a high price to keep such a god alive. And if you need one to save such a world--]
Why? What danger befell your world, that you would all gamble with such power?
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[his tone is more somber, slightly distant with the recollection.]
... and so the Convocation reached a decision. We would rewrite the very laws of reality that already were being broken-- we would awaken the will of the star itself, in the form of the first true god. Zodiark.
Creation on such a level required... immense amounts of aether. More than we could simply sustain.
[he hasn't been looking at chiron-- but he does, now.]
Half our people gave of their own lives, that their sacrifice might save the remaining half. And so it did-- with His power, He did bring our world back from the brink.
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[The obvious question of what comes next -- he can't even bring himself to ask it, when he feels dread begin to linger in his chest.
So he just waits, mouth pressed into a thin line]
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Another half of our remaining population gave of themselves to Zodiark, that He might bring life back into our world, and thus it began to flourish once more. Our decision was to continue our work as stewards of the Star, to nurture this new life, and when it was full to bursting with vitality... offer a portion of it unto Him once more, to restore all of our people who sacrificed themselves.
[and here, his expression is harder to read, but there is an edge in his voice.]
Yet not all understood. They would call forth their own god in opposition.
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And so it becomes clear which side of the conflict Emet-Selch pledged his allegiance to.
Chiron swallows, own expression tensing despite his best efforts, but he doesn't interrupt]
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Oh, don't look at me like that. We only did our duty-- we would not take of the world unduly, before its full restoration, before the energy could be spared. It was the best solution we had.
Or so one would think, at the least. A member of the Convocation left their seat in dissent, siding with those who would summon Hydaelyn, and once She was given form... She battled Zodiark.
They fought, and they fought, until with her final blow, She sundered and bound him-- but as you know, He is the awakened will of our very Star. In delivering such a blow to Him, so too did She split the very fabric of reality, shattering the world and everything upon it.
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[Firm on that, because he... well. No. He doesn't want to wander too deeply into his mind when the story isn't finished. But:]
... But I know what happens when two groups in opposition believe that they have the moral high ground.
[Case in point. Hearing that the world was shattered and Chiron can only look weary with the knowledge]
... If it was shattered, how did any of you survive?
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[the breath he exhales is heavy with the weight of the words.]
Two of us survived intact. Myself, and the Emissary. Every other life on the star was fragmented with the world itself, leaving one core world-- the Source-- and ten and three reflections of it.
But the worst part was that none of them could remember it. Not truly. Only fragments of memory, fleeting recollections of a familiar world, an ache within the soul at it that none could place.
I am its last living memory.
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he doesn't know what to say.
-- No, that's a lie. He does have one more question, delivered soft]
And as the last living memory, how long have you lasted?
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[his answer is soft as well, but more because it's just-- tired.]
I have not always worked alone. But they do not truly remember; not as I do.
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When he was poisoned -- when he was suffering but couldn't die -- maybe the legends never gave a specific timeline, but Chiron remembers it could not have been longer than a couple of years at best. A physical pain, but still a burden, and he had run straight into death's embrace rather than shoulder it when the opportunity presented itself.
Chiron lasted a few years, and Emet-Selch, not even a deity, has managed 13,000 so far.
He drops his eyes to the ground and says nothing.]
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...I have considered, at times, cutting that short. Remaining within the rift between worlds and simply drifting-- letting go of the sense of self which holds me to the living, waking world.
But I cannot abandon our brethren. Our legacy. Our god, still yet to be made whole.
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