[She bites back on a retort, extending one of the mugs to him.]
I made hot chocolate.
[Her expression is perfectly neutral, neither obnoxiously happy nor wearing her heart on her sleeve like she wants to. The tether will tell him she's nervous, her heart in her throat, but her hands manage not to shake as she makes her offer.]
I wanted to talk, if you're willing. Or even just talk to you, if you prefer not to participate.
[Emet-Selch has to bite back his own comment that he's not blind, he can tell what she's carrying. He doesn't respond immediately at all, watching her only with deep skepticism.
It's the nervousness that has him accept; it was an uncomfortable thing to have directed at himself, and he wanted it to stop. And what did he have to lose, that he hadn't already lost?
It's absolutely grudgingly that he takes the proffered mug. Stepping back out of the doorway, he gestures expansively with his free hand.]
My time is your time. I would so hate to be an inconvenience.
[It didn't mean he was going to be nice about it.]
[It's clear he's not going to let this go until she says her piece and leaves. The thought that perhaps he just wants them to feel bad about everything leaves her at a loss; if they can't repent and they can't move on, what does he want them to do?
Even so, she is determined about ignoring the snippy comment as she moves inside, shutting the door behind her and leaning on it heavily, second mug grasped in both hands as though the warmth will give her the strength and words to continue.]
First, I have to ask. Are you still operating under the assumption you're on borrowed time?
[It wasn't a rational response, which made it hard to argue with. The suffering was the point, and perhaps it would burn itself out eventually, and perhaps it wouldn't; it wasn't something he'd sought a solution for, assuming there wasn't one.
Taking a few steps back from her, the Ascian keeps a cautious eye on Irhya, shrugging lightly at her question. Though he made to attempt to sample its contents, the mug was warm, if nothing else.]
More or less. Still looking for a way to borrow the rest of it?
[It seems to be just a genuine question by the lack of annoyance in her tone. She seems to be doing her best to keep him from knocking her off course in what appear to be concentrated efforts to rile her up all over again.]
If you hate us so, why do you not set out to break the Bonds? Why do you remain here where you've felt nothing but despair and discomfort for the past fortnight, just the same as us? Why wallow in your misery?
Why should I flee a house I have just as much right to? Though you could oust me if you so choose- you do outnumber me.
[Because of course it was a conflict; they would always work against him.
The rest of her questions he had little answer for. 'Spite' wasn't a very good reason. Inertia. Because it would've taken more effort to leave. That buried desire to keep even some small, ruinous connection.
None of this was anything he would admit to.]
And you made your stance abundantly clear. Determined to 'save' every world, you would see me dead across all of them. The only thing that holds you back in this moment is means, not intent.
[It wasn't paranoia when it was true. But though the words are cold, there's little anger in them this time; more a bittered resignation. And though it's no friendlier, he does add-]
But I've never hated you. Not for that, or for everything else you've done. We wouldn't be having this conversation if I did.
Is that what you tell yourself because that's what we said, or because it's easier to believe it to justify your sulking?
[She lifts her head, studies him for a moment, then drops it back down again.]
...It already exists, you know. That world you wanted, that timeline in which the Eighth Rejoining happens.
[Because the Exarch came from it, she thinks wryly. Irhya wonders what he might say in this situation, from someone who knew his life had a deadline to someone despairing about his own life's ending.]
I mean what I said. That timeline already exists. There isn't a certainty you'll live in your world, but nor is there one you'll die across every world.
[She stops to take a sip of her drink, closing her eyes and bathing her face in the heat.]
In fact, it seems very likely that it was the original course history was intended to take, not the other way around.
[This was both alarming, and brought the tiniest flicker of hope. Neither were comfortable emotions, but at least they were different.
How the hell had they changed history? Even Ascians couldn't do anything like that, not even close. And yet, these broken peoples--]
How do you know this? And- if what you say is true, and the course of history has been altered- how can you be sure this original version still exists?
[What were the rules governing this sort of thing? Considering it was something that should have been impossible, he didn't know.]
[She hesitates. It's obvious he was going to ask that, but all she can do is reason it out and hope it's enough to make him listen to her seriously.]
I have no proof, I'm afraid. And it is not my world to be speaking of in the first place. But if there were a world for every scenario, all those infinite little possibilities where one person chose something differently and altered the ripples from there on out, then statistically, there certainly is one in which those who were determined to change history failed to do so, one way or another.
All I have is a firsthand account. And perhaps I should take it with a grain of salt, but I believe in the person who told it to me.
[Which is all she can do. And speaking of believing...]
Is there really nothing more I can do to convince you I don't just want you to drop dead? Because I don't, and it hurts to see you sulk and lash out at others over it. I want to fix the problem, because you're like to simmer for a good long time if I can't.
[Holding the mug with both hands, he taps the side of it with his fingers, thoughtful. He wanted to shake Irhya down for more information; it was clear she was holding something back, and the Ascian was less inclined than before to give her the benefit of the doubt. But yet, if he accepted the information for what it was....
It still didn't change his own fate, what he would have to face eventually, but- it was something to think about. A timeline when the Eighth Umbral Calamity succeeded, the next Rejoining had succeeded. Even if he'd never see it himself.]
...I don't believe you're lying. Thank you for telling me.
[The neutrality is a step up from cold, at least. Though at Irhya's question, he sighs, frowning anew as he stares across at her. But he hesitates, trying to find the words to explain, rather than only lash out again.]
And there's a difference between what you want to do, and what you're willing to do. I had thought- believed, that it was a matter of non-interference. That if I should find the means to change my personal fate, that you would put your faith in my star's Warrior of Light to be able to handle the drift in their tide.
To trust- if not the both of us, at least that reflection of yourself.
I never said I was going to stop you from trying. I just said I can't help you with it personally.
[And there lies the crux of the issue, at least to her. The interpretation of that as an act of malice. Her ears slowly drift downward.]
I'm sorry it came across that way, at least; I didn't think it would set off such a chain reaction, and it was thoughtless to try anyway in that state. But I see where the misunderstanding came from now.
I never expected you to help with it. I said as much, didn't I? Mutual tolerance or no, we're not on the same side.
[Granted, the way he'd said it probably sounded more bitter than it was. He hadn't exactly been in a mood to phrase it nicely. And it had spiraled out from there.
Knowing the cause was something, even if it didn't erase the hurt.]
If you were seeking suggestions on how to destroy Zodiark or the last of my kind, I would likewise not assist. But nor would I intervene. I assumed that was understood.
[She doesn't seem any more pleased for the mutual understanding, though.]
I just... I don't want to see you hurting so badly over something like that, all right? Bad enough I've done this song and dance once before; I didn't want to make the same mistake again in just leaving it to fester.
[It certainly wasn't any more comfortable. And though he had the impulse to tell her that he had no need or interest in her concern, this time he manages to restrain it.
Tiredness seems to have won out, for the moment.]
...Some things are safe to be allowed to burn out. Though I think you're right in assuming that this would not.
[And the idea of anyone- particularly an enemy having an opinion on his suffering was an unsettling one. Invasive, almost.]
[A small sigh; she sets her drink on the nearest desk and sits next to him on the bed, threading a hand through her hair first before turning her head to look at him.]
Do we have... something of an understanding now, at least? You may be an enemy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve respect.
[As if he wasn't at least as responsible, but good luck getting him to admit to it.
And though it's sharply spoken, Emet-Selch doesn't seem inclined to continue along those lines; the arrogance that follows is more the habitual, everyday sort. It was still more pretense, more bluff than normal, but it was closer.]
And of course I deserve respect. Did it take you this long to notice?
[That at least he seems to have fallen back into more comfortable habits gives Irhya cause to relax a little. Her tail curls behind her on the bed, draping halfway off of it.]
No, no. I've always felt that way. You've always sort of commanded it, you know, whether you meant to or not.
I just hope you would afford me the same, for what it's worth.
[Even if it was an imitation, and the hurt was still there, it probably counted as an improvement. Shaking his head, he leans over to put his own drink down, out of the way. He probably would get to it later, once it was well and truly cold, but even in his marginally improved state, the Ascian had little inclination for much of anything.]
And why wouldn't I respect you? [Straightening back up, he glances sideways at her.] You've undone more work and more Ascians in your meager lifespan than any mortal who's ever existed. I don't have to like it, [A dismissive wave.] but it would be useless to not recognize it.
I'm glad to hear that, I suppose. I know it must have fallen on deaf ears when you were so worked up, but I meant what I said about those better qualities of yours, too. Scathing wit and all.
[Her eyes fall to his drink set off to the side, a savage glint of something playful emanating from her gaze.]
Aren't you gonna drink that? It might make you feel a little better. A friend once taught me the magic of warm drinks when you feel like shite, so I would pass it on to you.
Not necessarily for his safety, but what the hell was she up to?]
I'm not concerned exactly- but why the sudden interest?
[It would probably be faster to just comply. If nothing else, it would be a show of willingness towards a return to their usual dynamic. The Ascian sighs. Even as he asks, he stretches over to get the mug again.]
[Irhya waits expectantly, still smiling a bit too sweetly, eying him a bit too closely. There's nothing unusual in the hot chocolate itself, of course; it's probably gone a little to the lukewarm side since she gave it to him, but nothing's out of place.
It's the mild excitement building up to it that seems suspect, something that feeds only faintly through the line. Anticipation, even a dash of nerves. She's not unaware of the fact he's probably picking up on it even without the emotional link, but it does not seem to deter her any.]
It's not as good if it's cold. Come on, now. You act like you've never had it before.
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I made hot chocolate.
[Her expression is perfectly neutral, neither obnoxiously happy nor wearing her heart on her sleeve like she wants to. The tether will tell him she's nervous, her heart in her throat, but her hands manage not to shake as she makes her offer.]
I wanted to talk, if you're willing. Or even just talk to you, if you prefer not to participate.
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It's the nervousness that has him accept; it was an uncomfortable thing to have directed at himself, and he wanted it to stop. And what did he have to lose, that he hadn't already lost?
It's absolutely grudgingly that he takes the proffered mug. Stepping back out of the doorway, he gestures expansively with his free hand.]
My time is your time. I would so hate to be an inconvenience.
[It didn't mean he was going to be nice about it.]
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Even so, she is determined about ignoring the snippy comment as she moves inside, shutting the door behind her and leaning on it heavily, second mug grasped in both hands as though the warmth will give her the strength and words to continue.]
First, I have to ask. Are you still operating under the assumption you're on borrowed time?
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Taking a few steps back from her, the Ascian keeps a cautious eye on Irhya, shrugging lightly at her question. Though he made to attempt to sample its contents, the mug was warm, if nothing else.]
More or less. Still looking for a way to borrow the rest of it?
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[It seems to be just a genuine question by the lack of annoyance in her tone. She seems to be doing her best to keep him from knocking her off course in what appear to be concentrated efforts to rile her up all over again.]
If you hate us so, why do you not set out to break the Bonds? Why do you remain here where you've felt nothing but despair and discomfort for the past fortnight, just the same as us? Why wallow in your misery?
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[Because of course it was a conflict; they would always work against him.
The rest of her questions he had little answer for. 'Spite' wasn't a very good reason. Inertia. Because it would've taken more effort to leave. That buried desire to keep even some small, ruinous connection.
None of this was anything he would admit to.]
And you made your stance abundantly clear. Determined to 'save' every world, you would see me dead across all of them. The only thing that holds you back in this moment is means, not intent.
[It wasn't paranoia when it was true. But though the words are cold, there's little anger in them this time; more a bittered resignation. And though it's no friendlier, he does add-]
But I've never hated you. Not for that, or for everything else you've done. We wouldn't be having this conversation if I did.
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[She lifts her head, studies him for a moment, then drops it back down again.]
...It already exists, you know. That world you wanted, that timeline in which the Eighth Rejoining happens.
[Because the Exarch came from it, she thinks wryly. Irhya wonders what he might say in this situation, from someone who knew his life had a deadline to someone despairing about his own life's ending.]
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But her next words stop him completely, and Emet-Selch stares at her almost blankly, feeling absolutely nothing.]
...What do you mean, it already exists?
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[She stops to take a sip of her drink, closing her eyes and bathing her face in the heat.]
In fact, it seems very likely that it was the original course history was intended to take, not the other way around.
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How the hell had they changed history? Even Ascians couldn't do anything like that, not even close. And yet, these broken peoples--]
How do you know this? And- if what you say is true, and the course of history has been altered- how can you be sure this original version still exists?
[What were the rules governing this sort of thing? Considering it was something that should have been impossible, he didn't know.]
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I have no proof, I'm afraid. And it is not my world to be speaking of in the first place. But if there were a world for every scenario, all those infinite little possibilities where one person chose something differently and altered the ripples from there on out, then statistically, there certainly is one in which those who were determined to change history failed to do so, one way or another.
All I have is a firsthand account. And perhaps I should take it with a grain of salt, but I believe in the person who told it to me.
[Which is all she can do. And speaking of believing...]
Is there really nothing more I can do to convince you I don't just want you to drop dead? Because I don't, and it hurts to see you sulk and lash out at others over it. I want to fix the problem, because you're like to simmer for a good long time if I can't.
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It still didn't change his own fate, what he would have to face eventually, but- it was something to think about. A timeline when the Eighth Umbral Calamity succeeded, the next Rejoining had succeeded. Even if he'd never see it himself.]
...I don't believe you're lying. Thank you for telling me.
[The neutrality is a step up from cold, at least. Though at Irhya's question, he sighs, frowning anew as he stares across at her. But he hesitates, trying to find the words to explain, rather than only lash out again.]
And there's a difference between what you want to do, and what you're willing to do. I had thought- believed, that it was a matter of non-interference. That if I should find the means to change my personal fate, that you would put your faith in my star's Warrior of Light to be able to handle the drift in their tide.
To trust- if not the both of us, at least that reflection of yourself.
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[And there lies the crux of the issue, at least to her. The interpretation of that as an act of malice. Her ears slowly drift downward.]
I'm sorry it came across that way, at least; I didn't think it would set off such a chain reaction, and it was thoughtless to try anyway in that state. But I see where the misunderstanding came from now.
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[Granted, the way he'd said it probably sounded more bitter than it was. He hadn't exactly been in a mood to phrase it nicely. And it had spiraled out from there.
Knowing the cause was something, even if it didn't erase the hurt.]
If you were seeking suggestions on how to destroy Zodiark or the last of my kind, I would likewise not assist. But nor would I intervene. I assumed that was understood.
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[She doesn't seem any more pleased for the mutual understanding, though.]
I just... I don't want to see you hurting so badly over something like that, all right? Bad enough I've done this song and dance once before; I didn't want to make the same mistake again in just leaving it to fester.
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Tiredness seems to have won out, for the moment.]
...Some things are safe to be allowed to burn out. Though I think you're right in assuming that this would not.
[And the idea of anyone- particularly an enemy having an opinion on his suffering was an unsettling one. Invasive, almost.]
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Do we have... something of an understanding now, at least? You may be an enemy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve respect.
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[As if he wasn't at least as responsible, but good luck getting him to admit to it.
And though it's sharply spoken, Emet-Selch doesn't seem inclined to continue along those lines; the arrogance that follows is more the habitual, everyday sort. It was still more pretense, more bluff than normal, but it was closer.]
And of course I deserve respect. Did it take you this long to notice?
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No, no. I've always felt that way. You've always sort of commanded it, you know, whether you meant to or not.
I just hope you would afford me the same, for what it's worth.
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[Even if it was an imitation, and the hurt was still there, it probably counted as an improvement. Shaking his head, he leans over to put his own drink down, out of the way. He probably would get to it later, once it was well and truly cold, but even in his marginally improved state, the Ascian had little inclination for much of anything.]
And why wouldn't I respect you? [Straightening back up, he glances sideways at her.] You've undone more work and more Ascians in your meager lifespan than any mortal who's ever existed. I don't have to like it, [A dismissive wave.] but it would be useless to not recognize it.
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[She looks... speculative all of a sudden.
That usually means trouble is about to happen.]
I'm glad to hear that, I suppose. I know it must have fallen on deaf ears when you were so worked up, but I meant what I said about those better qualities of yours, too. Scathing wit and all.
[Her eyes fall to his drink set off to the side, a savage glint of something playful emanating from her gaze.]
Aren't you gonna drink that? It might make you feel a little better. A friend once taught me the magic of warm drinks when you feel like shite, so I would pass it on to you.
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Well, it's not as though I require a mortal to inform me of my positive traits. You're just stating the obvious.
[Though the sudden interest in the drink has him throw her a skeptical look.]
--And that's suspiciously insistent of you. Usually when one tries to poison someone, one avoids drawing attention to it.
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Maybe that's because I'm not trying to poison you? I'll even drink from it myself if you're so concerned.
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Not necessarily for his safety, but what the hell was she up to?]
I'm not concerned exactly- but why the sudden interest?
[It would probably be faster to just comply. If nothing else, it would be a show of willingness towards a return to their usual dynamic. The Ascian sighs. Even as he asks, he stretches over to get the mug again.]
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It's the mild excitement building up to it that seems suspect, something that feeds only faintly through the line. Anticipation, even a dash of nerves. She's not unaware of the fact he's probably picking up on it even without the emotional link, but it does not seem to deter her any.]
It's not as good if it's cold. Come on, now. You act like you've never had it before.
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