[hey guess what chums are you sick of RANDOMLY FALLING INTO HOLES by now because GUESS THE HELL WHAT have we got a SURPRISE FOR YOU
|| What — what's this? Something is...interfering with the equipment! the Loporrit cries incredulously, one heartbeat before the alarms begin to sound.
5:50 worth of cutscenes far more convenient to watch rather than transcribing them all out here, the memory shifts —
To the landscape of Ultima Thule, black and green and ultraviolet, an ultimatum of decay and regret nested there at the very edge of the sea of stars. Seven figures stand in the midst of a barren landscape, surrounded by smog and the ridged white ghosts of dragons: two tall elves, one in armor and one in robes; two short ones, identical but for the colors they wear. Three with furred ears and tails, each bearing a staff of a different design on their backs.
The eighth figure in their midst hovers above them on a platform invisible to the naked eye; she is smaller than all of them, ink-black and grey like she's had all the color leached out of her. She is birdlike, with clawed talons in place of feet and wings jutting from the sides of her head. She is the center of attention, for all those assembled.
Our friend Thancred, asks the elf in robes, his stance shifting like he's bracing for a fight to accompany his answer. Where is he?
The birdlike girl smiles sweetly, cocking her head. Mocking him.
A strange question, she answers innocently, like a child gleeful with a secret. He is at your side, is he not? Oh, yes — he is here, and there, and everywhere within this space.
Her smile sharpens. He would tell you himself, if he had form to form words.
The robed elf's eyes narrow; a mixture of confusion, uncertainty, and dread crosses the expressions of the others assembled, one by one. And the bird-girl's look turns wryly pitying, as she casts her eyes down at them again.
Huh. Such loathing and uncertainty...you don't know why you still exist, she remarks. In like manner to the oblivion I send, I tried to drown out your aether with dynamis. Beginning with this Thancred, who came at me despite being unable to breathe.
It quickly becomes apparent that the bird-girl is enjoying the horror of the seven assembled below her; as the terrible recognition begins to dawn in each of them, she looks only more pleased, carrying on with her explanation as if to further twist the knife:
Such a simple thing, unmaking men. In the blinking of an eye, he was gone. Didn't even have the chance to be transformed.
But then, her own expression darkens, just slightly. Yet somehow, he managed to leave a sliver of himself behind. What you call...the heart...or perhaps the soul? In his final moment, he...cried out from it. A single word.
"Survive." ||
As as the robed elf on the memory screen gasps, taken aback with wide-eyed horror, Thancred finds he can't bring himself to look at Ryn — suddenly afraid he'll see the exact same expression mirrored there on his face as well.]
[ah, he knows rynlan so well already. that's exactly the look on his face, after watching all this, seeing their reactions, the way thancred was immediately asked after.
the way he came at her despite being unable to breathe. rynlan doesn't have to wonder why.
if he's not looking, though, he'll miss it when ryn abruptly grabs him by the collar of his coat and shoves, a motion clearly meant to push his back against the wall. whether it works is another thing entirely; even angry, he just doesn't have much physical strength, the force behind it lacking for all his intent.]
You-- I'd ask what you were thinking, but I doubt I have to, you just-- you weren't, were you?
[It works, surprisingly enough, which arguably says more about Thancred's cocktail of emotions in this moment than Rynlan's — but his shoulderblades hit the wall with an audible thud as he just sort of allows himself to be moved and thrown like it's the correct outcome to this particular situation.]
I didn't know.
[For all that his voice is otherwise steady, there's a twist of guilt in it. Not for anything he did in Ultima Thule; just for what he knows seeing this has done to Ryn now.]
You don't understand what that was. None of us did, not until it was already too late for me.
It was the source of a calamity that was gripping our star. One that had ended countless other worlds before ours, consuming them in despair until all life was eradicated. We went to Ultima Thule with no knowledge of what we would find there, borne on hope alone, because we were given the chance to flee the destruction that was coming for us and instead we chose to fight.
[He presses his lips together into a tight line.]
But what we found there was nothingness. No life, no aether. Not one of us would have lived had we set foot outside that ship. There was nothing. Nothing but dynamis saturated with countless centuries of hatred and sorrow and loss.
None of us knew what she was capable of, in the seat of her own power, there in her nest.
Then why in the world would you go! You just-- threw yourself at something that ended countless worlds with nothing but a prayer, hoped you'd somehow figure something out?!
[he's actually shaking thancred a bit, by the lapels of his coat.]
[something something world unification big damn heroes moment]
Yes. That is what we did. We decided to fight for the star that we love and our right to live upon it. For everyone's right to live upon it.
[The corners of his mouth pull back, just a fraction. It's not a smile.]
Because the only other option was triage. Not enough room to take everyone and flee. A council of a hundred isolationist academics deciding who would be granted a place and who would be left behind. They would leave the undesirables, of course. Abandon the ones who might cause trouble. Pack up everything they could carry and turn tail and run.
[...he falls silent, there, mouth pulling into a frown, long brows furrowed. not enough room for everyone to leave their world, to survive-- and survival would mean restarting completely. somewhere wholly unfamiliar.
rynlan isn't sure what sounds more terrifying: facing the source like they did, or risking being left behind.]
...it wasn't just them. The people with you. It was... it was everyone.
[the people he wanted to save, the world he wanted to save. it was all of it.]
There are six — six worlds, six shards, that surround our star. Whole worlds, filled with cities and peoples and history. I lived on one of them for five years. The same shard my Minfilia looked me in the eyes and chose sacrifice to save.
[That's a very conspicuously-chosen turn of phrase. It's one he's uttered before, albeit in a strikingly different tone than this.]
None of them were part of the plan.
[After a moment, he lets out a slow breath, behind clenched teeth. It shakes.]
Did you hear her say didn't have the chance to be transformed? D'you want to know what happens to a person claimed by the power of dynamis? They become abominations, roiling with fear and hatred, whose influence spreads like a virus to any other who surrenders to despair in their presence. And when they're slain, they leave nothing. No return to the aetherial sea. No trace left of the person they once were. They don't leave a body or a heart or a soul, because dynamis consumes them wholly and utterly and leaves nothing left in its wake.
[he recoils slightly, at that, at the horror of the thought of it. of there being nothing at all, no soul, no life, just... snuffed out. like they never existed at all.
...damn it all, he can't-- he can't be angry with him over this. over deciding that if worlds were going to die anyway, it's worth trying.]
So you... you gave them the chance to do something about it.
Inadvertently. I...as it was explained to me after, the results of what had happened to me gave my much more scholarly colleagues the clues they needed to progress forward.
[So yes. He really did kind of save everyone.]
Dynamis draws its power from emotion. Or...something like that. My emotion was strong enough to overpower hers. So long as my desire for them to survive remained stronger than her desire to claim them...that landscape existed, and could support life.
The very ground on which they stood. The air they had to breathe. [He draws a slow breath.] It endured for them, so long as my resolve did.
No. I survived this — we all did. Because it didn't end with just me. Every time the group sought to advance, one of them had to give themselves up to make the path for the rest. One by one, the lot of us, until all that remained was the redheaded girl with the staff.
Before we'd embarked for Ultima Thule, our patron goddess had given her power sufficient to call us all back to her side, if she'd so desired it. And yet she couldn't, because to call us back — me back — would be to unmake everything we'd formed of our hopes and dreams. An unwinnable situation.
[He shrugs, like he's trying to turn the conversation lighthearted and doesn't quite succeed at it.]
But leave it to her to find a way regardless. She's rather a knack for it.
-you were all forced to leave her alone to do it, in the end.
[it's a horrifying thought, to go through something like that. to be trying to accomplish something on that level, and to lose all of your support one person at a time.
he doesn't think he could do it.]
She must be strong, then, to have managed something like that.
Strong and clever. She found aid to call for that didn't involve dragging us back.
[And because said aid is a massive bottom who always comes running for his friend even when he's pretending they're divorced, it worked out.]
And when that aid had secured all the influence we'd given ourselves for, then she was able to rescue us. So no. It was a close thing — but I didn't perish at Ultima Thule. We won. And we all went home.
[And maybe in another time and place, he would boast or laugh or say something typically cocky and commonplace for him, but this time, Thancred just nods slowly, a gentle rise and fall of his chin. It sounds so different in someone else's words. So rare, when he's failed so much and carried the burdens of so many guilts and sins, to save everything and everyone, just the once.
But then, when the follow-up comes, he does chuckle under his breath.]
My heart stopped. Gave out, one night, in my sleep.
[He closes his eyes.]
That time when Nav hit me. I mentioned it brought back a powerful memory of something, didn't I?
[...oh. oh, no. his ears twitch at that, as he frowns.]
After all of that, just... natural causes? At your age? But you-
[he looks slightly distressed at this thought, actually, tamping down hard on the urge to ask if he's had any history of complications. any family history. any sign, anything, that might give him an idea of whether it's treatable.
....he can't think like that, he just can't, it's not-- this isn't his to fix.]
— pushed myself too hard, too far, too many times. I've always demanded much and more of these grizzled old bones; 'tis hardly surprising they finally gave up the ghost.
[He says, softly, oblivious to the train of thought running through Rynlan's mind but astute enough to pick up on the concerns.]
'Tis one of the reasons I like it when you reach for me. Feeling your touch reminds me of being alive, hale and hearty and whole.
Don't-- stop talking about yourself that way, you're not nearly old enough for it to be expected.
[his hands shift, one moving from the lapel of thancred's coat to rest over his heart-- but then when he speaks again, ryn's fingers twitch, like he's about to reflexively pull his hand away. like hearing that stings him, somehow, an unexpected little jolt.
he leaves it where it is.]
You're alive enough here. You don't need me for that.
[It's the touch to his hair that gets him, really. Kisses are all well and good, but any manner of sentiment can be attached to them, even when it's little to no sentiment at all. But Ryn could've kissed him without the extra contact — has done it before, could easily do it again — and yet.]
Did you...? Clever of you. But then, I am the fool of the two of us.
[He lets out a slow breath, tipping his chin until their foreheads bunt together gently.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
w3, thursday, pre-curfew
5:50 worth of cutscenes far more convenient to watch rather than transcribing them all out here, the memory shifts —
To the landscape of Ultima Thule, black and green and ultraviolet, an ultimatum of decay and regret nested there at the very edge of the sea of stars. Seven figures stand in the midst of a barren landscape, surrounded by smog and the ridged white ghosts of dragons: two tall elves, one in armor and one in robes; two short ones, identical but for the colors they wear. Three with furred ears and tails, each bearing a staff of a different design on their backs.
The eighth figure in their midst hovers above them on a platform invisible to the naked eye; she is smaller than all of them, ink-black and grey like she's had all the color leached out of her. She is birdlike, with clawed talons in place of feet and wings jutting from the sides of her head. She is the center of attention, for all those assembled.
Our friend Thancred, asks the elf in robes, his stance shifting like he's bracing for a fight to accompany his answer. Where is he?
The birdlike girl smiles sweetly, cocking her head. Mocking him.
A strange question, she answers innocently, like a child gleeful with a secret. He is at your side, is he not? Oh, yes — he is here, and there, and everywhere within this space.
Her smile sharpens. He would tell you himself, if he had form to form words.
The robed elf's eyes narrow; a mixture of confusion, uncertainty, and dread crosses the expressions of the others assembled, one by one. And the bird-girl's look turns wryly pitying, as she casts her eyes down at them again.
Huh. Such loathing and uncertainty...you don't know why you still exist, she remarks. In like manner to the oblivion I send, I tried to drown out your aether with dynamis. Beginning with this Thancred, who came at me despite being unable to breathe.
It quickly becomes apparent that the bird-girl is enjoying the horror of the seven assembled below her; as the terrible recognition begins to dawn in each of them, she looks only more pleased, carrying on with her explanation as if to further twist the knife:
Such a simple thing, unmaking men. In the blinking of an eye, he was gone. Didn't even have the chance to be transformed.
But then, her own expression darkens, just slightly. Yet somehow, he managed to leave a sliver of himself behind. What you call...the heart...or perhaps the soul? In his final moment, he...cried out from it. A single word.
"Survive." ||
As as the robed elf on the memory screen gasps, taken aback with wide-eyed horror, Thancred finds he can't bring himself to look at Ryn — suddenly afraid he'll see the exact same expression mirrored there on his face as well.]
no subject
the way he came at her despite being unable to breathe. rynlan doesn't have to wonder why.
if he's not looking, though, he'll miss it when ryn abruptly grabs him by the collar of his coat and shoves, a motion clearly meant to push his back against the wall. whether it works is another thing entirely; even angry, he just doesn't have much physical strength, the force behind it lacking for all his intent.]
You-- I'd ask what you were thinking, but I doubt I have to, you just-- you weren't, were you?
no subject
I didn't know.
[For all that his voice is otherwise steady, there's a twist of guilt in it. Not for anything he did in Ultima Thule; just for what he knows seeing this has done to Ryn now.]
You don't understand what that was. None of us did, not until it was already too late for me.
no subject
[what does he mean, it was already too late-- but he's holding that question in reserve.]
no subject
[He presses his lips together into a tight line.]
But what we found there was nothingness. No life, no aether. Not one of us would have lived had we set foot outside that ship. There was nothing. Nothing but dynamis saturated with countless centuries of hatred and sorrow and loss.
None of us knew what she was capable of, in the seat of her own power, there in her nest.
no subject
[he's actually shaking thancred a bit, by the lapels of his coat.]
no subject
[something something world unification big damn heroes moment]
Yes. That is what we did. We decided to fight for the star that we love and our right to live upon it. For everyone's right to live upon it.
[The corners of his mouth pull back, just a fraction. It's not a smile.]
Because the only other option was triage. Not enough room to take everyone and flee. A council of a hundred isolationist academics deciding who would be granted a place and who would be left behind. They would leave the undesirables, of course. Abandon the ones who might cause trouble. Pack up everything they could carry and turn tail and run.
no subject
[...he falls silent, there, mouth pulling into a frown, long brows furrowed. not enough room for everyone to leave their world, to survive-- and survival would mean restarting completely. somewhere wholly unfamiliar.
rynlan isn't sure what sounds more terrifying: facing the source like they did, or risking being left behind.]
...it wasn't just them. The people with you. It was... it was everyone.
[the people he wanted to save, the world he wanted to save. it was all of it.]
no subject
[That's a very conspicuously-chosen turn of phrase. It's one he's uttered before, albeit in a strikingly different tone than this.]
None of them were part of the plan.
[After a moment, he lets out a slow breath, behind clenched teeth. It shakes.]
Did you hear her say didn't have the chance to be transformed? D'you want to know what happens to a person claimed by the power of dynamis? They become abominations, roiling with fear and hatred, whose influence spreads like a virus to any other who surrenders to despair in their presence. And when they're slain, they leave nothing. No return to the aetherial sea. No trace left of the person they once were. They don't leave a body or a heart or a soul, because dynamis consumes them wholly and utterly and leaves nothing left in its wake.
no subject
...damn it all, he can't-- he can't be angry with him over this. over deciding that if worlds were going to die anyway, it's worth trying.]
So you... you gave them the chance to do something about it.
no subject
[So yes. He really did kind of save everyone.]
Dynamis draws its power from emotion. Or...something like that. My emotion was strong enough to overpower hers. So long as my desire for them to survive remained stronger than her desire to claim them...that landscape existed, and could support life.
The very ground on which they stood. The air they had to breathe. [He draws a slow breath.] It endured for them, so long as my resolve did.
no subject
[to feel so strongly about saving them, about wanting them to live, that it would overpower her--
thancred's a much better person than he is, he's sure.]
Was that how you...?
no subject
Before we'd embarked for Ultima Thule, our patron goddess had given her power sufficient to call us all back to her side, if she'd so desired it. And yet she couldn't, because to call us back — me back — would be to unmake everything we'd formed of our hopes and dreams. An unwinnable situation.
[He shrugs, like he's trying to turn the conversation lighthearted and doesn't quite succeed at it.]
But leave it to her to find a way regardless. She's rather a knack for it.
no subject
[it's a horrifying thought, to go through something like that. to be trying to accomplish something on that level, and to lose all of your support one person at a time.
he doesn't think he could do it.]
She must be strong, then, to have managed something like that.
no subject
[And because said aid is a massive bottom who always comes running for his friend even when he's pretending they're divorced, it worked out.]
And when that aid had secured all the influence we'd given ourselves for, then she was able to rescue us. So no. It was a close thing — but I didn't perish at Ultima Thule. We won. And we all went home.
no subject
You were able to save everything. Everyone.
[soft, maybe slightly awed, though he quickly forces it from his tone.]
If you managed that then what in the world actually succeeded in killing you?
no subject
But then, when the follow-up comes, he does chuckle under his breath.]
My heart stopped. Gave out, one night, in my sleep.
[He closes his eyes.]
That time when Nav hit me. I mentioned it brought back a powerful memory of something, didn't I?
no subject
After all of that, just... natural causes? At your age? But you-
[he looks slightly distressed at this thought, actually, tamping down hard on the urge to ask if he's had any history of complications. any family history. any sign, anything, that might give him an idea of whether it's treatable.
....he can't think like that, he just can't, it's not-- this isn't his to fix.]
no subject
[He says, softly, oblivious to the train of thought running through Rynlan's mind but astute enough to pick up on the concerns.]
'Tis one of the reasons I like it when you reach for me. Feeling your touch reminds me of being alive, hale and hearty and whole.
no subject
[his hands shift, one moving from the lapel of thancred's coat to rest over his heart-- but then when he speaks again, ryn's fingers twitch, like he's about to reflexively pull his hand away. like hearing that stings him, somehow, an unexpected little jolt.
he leaves it where it is.]
You're alive enough here. You don't need me for that.
no subject
I didn't say I needed it.
[He doesn't smile, but there's the implication of it reflected in his eyes even so.]
Though I'd be grateful for a check-over, if you happened to be so inclined.
no subject
I'm retired, you know. And yet here you people are, dragging me back into it.
no subject
[He shakes his head, his usual smile at last returning to his mouth, even as some of it fades from his eyes.]
Never mind — call it a jest, nothing more.
no subject
he reaches up to brush thancred's bangs back from his face, leans down to press a brief kiss to his lips.]
I understood it, don't worry about that.
no subject
Did you...? Clever of you. But then, I am the fool of the two of us.
[He lets out a slow breath, tipping his chin until their foreheads bunt together gently.]
M'not — I don't — I realize...that you. Don't —
[...]
...Selfish of me, I know.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)