Elidibus has spent a decent amount of his time in the intervening weeks cleaning and repairing the rooms he intends to inhabit. A good dusting and cleaning of the second-floor rooms and then a focus on what's most needed when it comes to repairing stairs, floors, walls, and ceiling. A place to sleep and a workspace. Perhaps signs that he'll eventually take over the whole second floor but... there are other matters to take care of first.
Mid-Ieneuer had seen a little less of the Emissary. On top of his normal studies of magic and combat and the world of Talam, he'd been drawn to observing the matter of the Circle and kidnappings to gain a pulse on the darker undercurrent of Aefenglom's flow. And to put more of his 'Ardbert' identity in peoples' minds perhaps. For instance, one day he'd come back with bottles of alcohol and stored them in the chest. Which was closed only after being thoroughly sure the Cherry Bomb was nowhere in attendance. His error earlier this month will not quickly be forgotten.
So the matter of whether he would be here today at the start of the full moon, had been in question. Indeed, whether the first full moon since their Bond and his arrival was a wise time to visit may have been examined carefully. But the benefits and, dare he say it 'desire', to attend had finally made the choice a simple matter. The solid thud of boots on less squeaky stairs and the scent- perhaps the Bond strengthens a touch with proximity- and it's certainly the Emissary.
Another hint is that those footsteps would have been heard going upstairs first, though, to change. What he comes down with is not robes and mask, but the sleeveless brown turtleneck, pants, and footwear. This much shouldn't be surprising if one were to consider he planned to spend considerable time in the basement. He'd brought with him a satchel too which, though mostly in containers, there are some scents of food escaping from it. Elidibus had not come empty-handed.
"I apologize. I meant to arrive before sunset but matters kept me." In all honesty, given what he's heard he's not sure how Lahabrea will look or act. So he's slow to descend and looking toward the cage even before he's fully in view. This being the best decision does not mean due caution isn't in order. "Have you kept your wits about you thus far, Lahabrea?"
Thankfully this time the bomb is already down stairs and far from alluring locked chests it's not supposed to get into. It, of all creatures, doesn't seem to actually bother Lahabrea at all, be it near or far from his hoard or anything else, so it's allowed to do as it pleases. Which for the moment is staying burrowed in the longer feathers of his tail, asleep. What separated it from all other life on this forsaken world might simply be its origins - Lahabrea created it from naught but his own aether, and so in a strange sort of way, it was a part of him. It was almost sad that the little creature would be his final true creation, a legacy of grand wonder whittled down to a lone cherry bomb.
Although his hearing isn't as sharp as many turnskins, it's enough to hear the door, and then footsteps. Not a stranger, nobody who didn't know where they were going would stride from place to place without hesitation, and marginally he relaxes. There was always the possibility of someone unwelcome of course, but they'd get one nasty surprise for their efforts.
And as Elidibus comes down the stairs, albeit at a rather measured pace, he's watched through narrowed eyes. The cage hasn't been reopened, the outside lock still firmly in place, nothing's been destroyed yet, and there's a chisel in one hand. Not ... precisely the actions of a beast, but one can never be sure. "As much as ever."
Which is a complete lie, but his recollection of feral states is dim at best, and so far not an issue. Previously... previously he hadn't had the soothing outside source of magic, whether or not it came from a fledgling witch. But the steady resistance of any impulse he recognized as not naturally his certainly did him no favors. One hand rises to gesture; there's still other cushions about, outside the cage. "The bars should hold."
He sounds.. fairly normal, for all that's worth. The same dry rasp, even if it doesn't really match the undercurrent of emotion beneath it. His control for the time being, is iron.
But this time there's no immediate effort to curl in on himself or hide, he remains on his comfortable cushion without even his mask to obscure his features, the bold red and gold markings across his face almost but not quite a substitute. "What have you been doing?"
'As much as ever', is it? Elidibus does wonder if that's any more true than 'the bear trap injury is just fine, I don't feel any pain'. But mostly, the Emissary had a different impression of what a feral state during the full moon would be. Certainly not a grumpy as ever Lahabrea.
For now, Elidibus chooses to take the proffered cushions. The satchel is placed on a low table beside his chosen seating. This will all be dragged relatively close to the cage, though respect for the dragon's reach through those bars is given, for the time being. Out of the satchel comes two packets of cookies. Ginger snap of course; he's become quite interested in them.
"I brought these," the Emissary offers, as a subtle indication that he desires to approach and pass the packet through to Lahabrea. And, as he has noticed the chisel in hand and the project it's being used for- it being rather difficult to miss- he adds, "Am I to presume your full moon condition affords the clarity for such delicate craft with the dragon brimming so close to the surface?" Perfectly mild. Utterly dry. Yes, this is Elidibus and he is calling you on your lie, Lahabrea.
As for what Elidibus has been doing? "Patrols. A watch for those manipulated and those being kidnapped in the city by the Evergreen Circle." He doesn't have to pretend the fervent dedication to doing good deeds characteristics of Warriors of Light here so he doesn't. But the Ascian does explain further. By this time there's been enough time for Lahabrea to accept the packet or refuse it, so Elidibus is settled on his chosen cushion and one cookie into his own.
"My observations have been insightful, albeit more difficult than I'm accustomed." For one thing, people can easily see him and he can't use magic or natural ability to scry matters from afar. "Aside from that matter, I have been visiting the archives of the Coven and researching this world." Elidibus's mouth twitches in a sign of annoyance. "The approach of the full moon seems to have weakened my grasp on the magick of this world." Which was already comparatively non-existent. "There never seems to be enough aether. I will have to plan for this in the coming moon."
There's already been a misstep in the presence of carefully maintained control, by the loud, rumbling growl that rises, a sound that seems to shake the air and very bones with its angry threat. "Those who know nothing should say nothing." The words are ground out one at a time between clenched sharp teeth, the urge to rise and put Elidibus in his place beneath his claws for the moment struggled down into little more than a slow, irritated thud of tail against the floor and ruffled feathers. "Ignorant wretch, has wearing a mortal shell been so corruptive that every thought of logic or reason has leaked out of your head? If this is what merely wearing flesh does to you in such a short span of time, mayhap we should rid you of it and such blinding stupidity with it."
Every word is a rebuke, etched with promise and surety, the gift of treats shunned with little more than a disregarding glare. He can at least still speak, even if it's with the tenuously controlled fury of an offended dragon. "I expect better of you." The chisel is gestured with, a sharp and jagged angry motion. "When one struggles with distracted thoughts, one finds something with which to focus those thoughts. It is not the end result which is of primary concern, or even tertiary concern! But if you dare question my clarity, pray let me put such delicate work aside so I may turn my attention to peeling you out of your sneering hide instead." How much is Lahabrea's unpredictable temperament and how much is the boiling instability of the full moons is at serious question, and he himself is not being forthcoming with any distinction. Attempting to call him out on anything that smelled like a lie might be unwise for the next few days.
His glare lingers for a long, long silent moment, as if outright daring Elidibus to question it further before very deliberately turning back to the work he's given himself, carefully chipping away at the dark stone bit by bit. Their bond, it seems, doesn't spare Elidibus at all from Lahabrea's ire, though that it is for the time only ire and not sudden explosive violence hearkens either to fragile control or some measure of protection.
It's likely for the best that their bond is still fairly muted, at least in comparison of those many who take such things much further and share dreams in the night, else the seething storm of unwelcome emotion might well be extremely unpleasant for the Emissary to deal with on two separate levels. He should be ashamed of the careful waltz around his temper that others must take or risk undeserved or exaggerated retaliation, but he doesn't care. Did he ever care?
The matters of the world and what Elidibus has been up to is not the distraction he'd hoped it'd be, though that might be his own lingering fury and not a lack of interesting or relevant topics to pursue. The lack of aether with which to draw on for a fledgling witch should be alarming, but most new witches also didn't bond with a monster right away, and monsters absolutely were a steady draw on power. Power that should by rights be constantly at the witch's fingertips and eager to be used at all opportunities, negating the risk of early build-up and possible magical explosion. If Lahabrea himself is the reason why there's not enough aether to manipulate.. "In two weeks such a difficulty will reverse itself. How did you attend the last new moon?"
The response Elidibus is given is eye-opening in more ways than one. He immediately straightens up and makes sure his hand is out of cage reach; though a question of whether the bars will hold or should hold remains unanswered. And moot besides. Clearly, Lahabrea is more than capable right now of unlocking the cage entirely and making good the suggestions he is giving.
Back to the eye-opening matter. First, Lahabrea is certainly not 'feral'. But Elidibus would be hard-pressed to think the Speaker would have, back on their worlds, turned such ireful words on his fellow Ascians. But there, Elidibus himself would not have given reason to.
It is hard to say if he felt any true emotion. Without a mask, it was easy to see realization and thoughtful reflection. But fear, surprise, and apology are... lacking in the usual set of Elidibus's expression when he no longer needs to offer pretense.
"I misjudged the conditions presented by the full moon's sway," the Emissary admits. "I would be interested to hear how you've spent them in the past. How they may differ or not to this moment." Just as Elidibus himself is being asked of his activities during the moon most likely to influence him. But first, "I may be finding it difficult to fully shake the influences of regularly interacting with mortals." Not so much that he's becoming mortal, but that he finds it hard to transition between the act- as he becomes more accustomed to the routine of mortality- and reality. "Is it this world and this prison of a body? Or is it my relative lack of recent experience with a host?" The thoughtful rhetoric is shrugged away. "No doubt it is just as well I will be moving into the rooms here within the week." Provided of course Lahabrea spares him the divestment of his physical form.
Now there's the last new moon. "I took advantage of the small rise in power to practice control." Truthfully Elidibus was fortunate that his first new moon, one that was unusually strong at that, was within two weeks of his arrival. Next month will be... interesting as the world brings him more under its sway. "Enchantment seemed to come with particular ease. For the most part, I sought to blend the magick here with the techniques of a warrior." Elidibus takes the time to crunch another cookie. "There was... some success. In time, it should be perfectly viable." He ended up holding a combo chain for a full round even.
The bars are only steel and wrought iron, and could certainly hold, say, an angry bear or lion. But a dragon? One day it would do absolutely nothing to either contain or slow him down, but the entirety of that fearsome strength the breed is vaunted for had yet to manifest and given the couple-weeks past revelation of his elemental alignment, the best it might do is working as a Faraday cage. But there's been no lightning yet, and it might well still be beyond him.
"You have misjudged much," is the rumbled response, more little flakes of obsidian falling away. Whatever he's making, it's a fairly rounded shape but far too early in its work to be judged as any real shape at all. But he does have something in mind, something that, if it were to break or he couldn't complete it he could simply start again later .. but it keeps his hands occupied. Or at least, somewhat so, and some level of preoccupation to keep from slipping with the small chisel and thus crack the whole thing. Lahabrea brushes off the question in turn - right now he's simply not interested in discussing it, it wasn't the right kind of distraction and would only refocus his attention on the turmoil he currently endured.
Easier, someone else's problems. And with no filters at all on thought or word, and an undue influence towards paranoia and aggression.. any topic at all might not exactly fare well. "A lack of experience." There's a brief flick of one ear, a flicker of disdain flashing up. "That body is no different than others, and the pressures of Aefenglom rather lessened than what would be in the Source." Although people could always hear and see them, they also didn't have quite as much to hide. No clandestine meetings, no disappearing into thin air without warning, no sense of that umbral presence that marked Ascians to those of alert senses. No delicate games of politic and manipulation to turn entire nations towards a desired goal, that were they discovered would unravel much.
Easier, in that respect.
Harder in others, for the price it carried.
There were surely some in this world who would look at trying to maintain any such warrior-ish skill with amusement and disdain, but sooner or later they're going to get an axe to the face and learn an important lesson. But it's an easier topic, one that doesn't come with inherent fury and antagonism. "Is that so. What enchantments are you dabbling with?" It can only be a dabble at this point, as plans are made and tested. It's much too early to have come to any permanent decisions.
Some elemental enchantments might be wise, eventually, to abuse all the weaknesses his kind and others seem to possess.
In a way, it's appealing to think the world isn't having an undue influence on him. Not in the same way it afflicts Lahabrea anyway and so there might be a slight lessening of tension in Elidibus as the Speaker offers his opinion on the matter. It's true in the first few days he kept up with as best an Ardbert impression as he could, even with those not from the Source. But oft times recently Elidibus has found himself settling into a blend of the two identities and thus, finding easier portrayal.
It would never fool Ardbert's companions. But he didn't expect it to even when he was trying his utmost. Irhya... well, that's for debate. It was just long enough for him to settle into Aefenglom anyway. Another reason why it's better to leave Tataru's generous company, in case the Warrior of Light decides to spill the beans to the lalafell.
Lack of any insight into the experience of full moons is not pursued, but likely will be at a later date. A bottle full of water is pulled out. Still cold and crisp from the winter travel, but the supply is likely to warm up soon enough in the basement. Before responding, Elidibus cracks it open and takes a drink. "For the experiment last new moon, physical enhancement. A sharper cut, a stronger blow." The Emissary flicks his fingers dismissively. Of course it wasn't meant to be just that. He was working on the basics of control then. Foundation.
"I am focusing upon the elements of earth, ice, and fire for now. I have been exploring some efforts in manifesting Light but to no avail." Such experiments, even if their end result will be in vain, will likely have to wait until he has more of a mastery over his magic in general. "Nor does Darkness come to my beck." Elidibus, one of the few Ascians who would talk about Light with equal measure to Darkness. That's what happens when you are the very being the whole concept of the Warrior of Light was born from.
I can invoke wind, lightning, and water," Elidibus won't mention how little the evocation it was. But it was enough to show the elements were there to be practiced. "But I decided to narrow my attentions to half the amount until I'm assured of its functional use." Sure, he might have to narrow further and build that way but... Ascian ego. It's a thing.
Misjudgment. Errors. Elidibus seems to be making a lot of those lately. Perhaps this is why he quietly mentions aloud, after a sigh. "This star. Somehow I feel rushed." The eyes open again and he looks at the cookie between his fingers. "...Almost desperate, in a way I have no recollection of experiencing."
Even the scramble to save the Thirteenth did not immediately invoke a memory of the feelings he might have felt then. Not even the moments he had more recently experienced, in personally taking the stage... and near the moment of his transfer as the Warrior of Light-turned-Darkness approached the warded Crystal Tower to confront him. The latter had been... inevitability.
"Nor will there be. Emet-Selch has spoken thus on Light and Dark, and other mages. This star recognizes not the astral and umbral." Which frankly is really strange, like discovering a world simply doesn't have air; how did any of it function at all? How do they enhance their spellcraft, or mute the raw power of a magic in favor of detailed finesse? Light has its place - not generally in Lahabrea's work, but a place, and it doesn't surprise him that Elidibus might be toying with conjuring up that power. It was required for cure spells, was it not?
There's a point where as Elidibus speaks the words slowly become meaningless, a distortion of noise and inflection with no connection to an idea or object or thought, and with it a strange sensation in their bond, not unlike reaching for the next step down a flight of stairs and finding no step at all but a sudden forward lurch into emptiness.
Some distant, tenuously felt force of wrath rises, like fog on a lake. He closes his eyes, hands still on the chunk of stone.
The disconcerting weightless feeling ends as suddenly as it began, and as if there had been nothing at all, he resumes chipping, the sounds resolving into words about feeling rushed. "I wonder why." Nothing comes to mind for what might cause a feeling of being harried. "We .. you do have forever. All will see to its place, in time. Mastery of this star, of its crippled skills. How long has it been since any of us have walked under an unfamiliar sky, with unknown rules and demands?"
"...I should speak to Emet-Selch as well." This isn't a slight toward Lahabrea. In fact, he continues to address the Speaker, eyes open, and keenly invested in what was just said. Yes, to think the Umbral and Astral is simply not present... "I can't see how a world whose peoples are so affected by the waning and waxing of the moons is utterly void of either. To the point wherein the polarities are reversed in Witches native and Mirrorbound." It may not be stable and that certainly troubles him. A world out of balance in Light or Dark is a very dangerous world to be part of or trapped on. But trust the Emissary to be concerned about this, as it was his job to be.
"The lack of potency in restorative spells would certainly suggest--" What Elidibus was about to say is suddenly cut off by lurching vertigo which strikes through the Bond. He has some familiarity with nausea, thanks to a certain recent bout of drinks he has no intention of bringing up... ever. This wasn't quite the same, but it is enough to thoroughly snap the Emissary temporarily out of any conversation he was about to have on the subject of the rushed feeling.
He wouldn't have been able to give much of an answer anyway, toward the notion of how long it had been.
Elidibus falls quiet as matters stabilize and Lahabrea continues only the slightest sense that something had occurred. There is something not... right in the manner in which the Speaker forcibly controls the wrath. Back home, it might have been commendable. Here, less so. Yet by that same wrath and emotion, broaching the topic is likewise a hazardous endeavor. As has been amply demonstrated.
Elidibus rises and finally touches on the second subject without really finishing the first. "It may be the inexperience of living at a mortal's pace has invoked an impetus to meet their speed." All the more reason to be glad he'll have the luxury of a house with only a fellow Ascian to rest his body in. Slow down, study it all. But to not leave the matter of Lahabrea's transformation behind...
Ah. Perhaps that is it.
"Will you permit me to come closer, Lahabrea?" Elidibus may not know where, but he doesn't doubt the dragon, aside from the matters of precaution, has hidden his horde somewhere in that cage. His hands are empty but one is held up, indicating an offer of contact. It.... has become a little easier to make such gestures, in the past couple of weeks.
Necessity controls all the changed in this world. It's been a battle he's been fighting since shortly after arriving, and determinedly won for the most part til now, but instincts stymied, urges ignored, acceptance .. even the barest shades of acceptance utterly scorned tended to lead to terrible, uncontrolled rage. Eventually. He still had that control, and that was enough for him. The bars would surely hold, had to hold, because every week the fight grew harder and harder to win. Sometimes, he was vaguely sure, he didn't actually succeed, but those long days and nights in his own home, in his 'territory', with food and drink and hoard on hand, left little impetus for the beast to wander.
And when clearheaded.. or as much as possible, less reason yet to leave.
But this is the first time he's had anyone else there too, disrupting the flow, changing the sense of the night. Was it still enough to convince the creature he was becoming that it was safe, and home, and a secure territory that doesn't need constant defending?
"The illusion of time running out." Claws tap briefly against the obsidian, like marking out seconds. His tone hasn't risen back to that earlier sound of outrage, muted in the quiet of the basement. "The frail sense of false mortality: the past tempting us, the present daunting us; the future, a frightening inevitability. And our days slip away, moment by moment, lost in that vast, terrible in-between. Yet we have been given eternity for which to unravel that catalyst of fear and forge from it a glorious wonder."
How long did he have? Not an eternity. Not anymore. But he can be maudlin with his words, in the time that he had words to use. Elidibus is glanced up at as he rises, the question that follows not drawing an immediate response. The bars were there for the protection of others, the lock simple to manage but there too as a reminder of what must be.
"On these, of all nights?" He shakes his head slightly, the weight of changed horns an unfamiliar ache. "Foolish to ask. It would be unwise. I can guarantee no safety and care not to deal with what might follow should the days pass and I find blood staining my claws."
A moment of eloquence from Lahabrea. It sparks a memory of the Speaker and another, one of the few Elidibus has remaining even in part. And though the eloquent suggestion that they turn from work and enjoy a bright day for a time had not been uttered by Lahabrea, the words the Ascian now did speak cause Emissary to remember the moment.
Gently, as if trying not to speak too loudly lest the echo causes a fragile crystal to shatter, Elidibus does offer, "We spoke a little before of the future, as I tended your injury." Of what Lahabrea is becoming. Of the future. Of... Zodiark's love. Naturally, he will not elaborate here. "What help may I give you now, to accept future you can forge past this daunting present?"
Time is relative. Even Ascians would know that to some extent, having traveled to different worlds and find that minutes, years, and days pass so quickly to another's moment. Lahabrea may have mere centuries in his body, but it is a far cry better to Elidibus of right now than to return to somewhere his fellow Unsundered were already gone. He can save the Lahabrea in front of him now, even if they must work within the confines of their current prison's rules to do it.
"I know it would be unwise. Yet I would approach nonetheless," Elidibus answers. He does not start forward but waits, patient and respectful of Lahabrea's stance on the matter. For a moment, his gaze shifts away in a moment of thought. But they are back upon the Speaker before he continues.
"I felt through our Bond a sensation not entirely unlike tilting ...off a cliff and falling." It's admittedly a struggle to find proper words for this. A matter of vertigo is rarely an issue for an Ascian. And for Elidibus almost nonexistent. But oddly distressing. A bit of this shows on features usually devoid of general emotion. His voice remains collected as ever. But perhaps the desire to help is instead stressed by the actual words Elidibus uses. "Blood may stain your claws. But for what is this Bond, except to even risk injury so that I might catch you when you fall?"
An injury that still ached, some many days later, and would for some time yet. The stitches, still needed, pulled and itched beneath their protective cover of scale and feather. A little longer, a delay in that meeting and maybe he would have gotten out of it unscathed. The reminder of it draws a slight twitch, as if there's an urge to reach and scratch, or tug beneath scale at the stitches or stretch and see if it still hurts. It would, of course.
But none of it he responds to immediately. He understands deeply and intrinsically the risk that Elidibus doesn't seem to. Silenced for so long, should the leash slip, the beast would not be easily corralled and would lash out in fury at anything on hand. Anyone, for that matter.
Once, the idea of any of this being a concern would be laughable. Not even worth entertaining in the worst of nightmare scenarios.
But the rains have not ceased for a very long time.
"Tis best to not fall off the cliff." It's an almost absent, distracted response, the rest of his thoughts elsewhere. Elidibus might not care if he bled for his efforts, Lahabrea very much did. "A beast waits at the bottom, hungry and furious. I don't think it would care much if that biscuit were its meal, or you." No difference, to an animal. Food was food, threats were threats, and the best way to handle both was violence.
He straightens a touch then, a frown fixed on his features, ears pinned back against his hair. "You will not catch me if I fall. You do not understand this. I will never hear you, but another creature will." His control is iron. "You will find in your hands a beast that snarls, and growls, and strains toward freedom every moment waking or sleeping.. and as hard as I try, I cannot kill it. You may be willing to risk blood on the floor yet again. I am not."
"Before. I meant before you fall," Elidibus corrects himself. Should Lahabrea start to fall, he wants to catch him before he's out of reach. "But of course I do not fully understand. I have read many books. I have spoken to others of these changes. But none of them would know it as you do now." As an Ascian becoming a 'beast'. Nor would any of them have an inkling of comprehending the horror of it to Lahabrea.
Except perhaps another Unsundered. Elidibus truly wishes to know more, but also to be someone to whom Lahabrea can speak more than the fragment he just professed.
"At the end of the day, should the feral side manifest Lahabrea, no steel will hold a dragon's rage. And the bars are too far apart for your smallest form. Where I stand in this room will make no difference." So in a way, he should not have come in at all. Yet, Elidibus had, knowing how fragile the illusion of the cage and security was.
Elidibus shows no sign of mockery. Steadfast, he picks up his satchel. But... not to leave.
"I desire to remain if you would allow. And given the conditions, perhaps it would be best to spend the time practicing the best means of physical contact. Would you please secure your hoard and make room for me?" He will, of course, turn around should Lahabrea give in to the idea that Elidibus means to stay. Naturally, he'll be bringing his food and drink and probably books along.
"I have not access to either the vaunted strength nor the shape change that others may possess." Puncturing that illusion of safety, that the bars could and would hold, is going to have consequences down the line. An animal certain it can't escape will rarely try to, learned helplessness preventing most attempts ... but that seed's been planted. All it takes is a whisper of doubt, after all the work he'd put in to securing at least one location against the inevitable.
There were no other Unsundered that might be dragged into this world unless it grew so cruel as to seize Amaurotines directly and inflict this hell upon them ... and that might well be worse than what's been done to him. He's had at least a few eons to adapt to unwelcome changes in environment or the attitudes of others.. but learning that adaption had come at a terrible price they'd all paid. Some poor soul snatched off the streets of the Black City would have no such familiarity, or explanation at all. Only the sudden horror like unto the End Times, though less contagious in its terror.
It's for the best, really. He wouldn't wish this fate on others of his kind.
This stubborn persistence was going to get Elidibus killed. He's certain of that too, whether by accident or design.
But wasn't contact supposed to help? Would it do anything about the warping of language into nonsense, the wavering sense of self and time, the boiling fury that never quite went away? None of it was as all-consuming as it had been the month before, but it felt like a near thing.
"If I tell you to leave, you will leave. No questions, no arguments. I will not have Ascian blood on my hands again." There's always a price, it seems, in trying to negotiate for anything with Lahabrea. This one might be rather less personally demanding than the last, of memory and effort into maintaining it!
But where is that little stash of jewels and precious metals? His gaze shifts to the side, weighing how safe it is. The cage is spacious, forged for something considerably larger than he was now, a cell more properly than merely a holding place for a beast in its tenuous comforts. But here indeed were the best of cushions, the softest blankets, the nicest area rug. His books, a magicked lamp. It might be better appointed than the sleeping space he usually utilized, but for the long stark shadows the bars throw. "And stay astray of the books." Which must thus be where he's also keeping his precious things, presumably the box they're stacked upon.
What a terrible temptation, putting all the reading material where murder would result if approached.
There may be a price to pay. But nothing truly worked for is free of cost. And Elidibus has proven he'll stand in the place meant for another's sacrifice. He won't allow for a hint of a reminder of this to show, out of respect and a desire to help Lahabrea. Even if the Emissary were to know that it isn't a simple matter of obtaining another host if this body were to die, he'd likely still persist.
"I shall," Elidibus agrees. Conditions are... acceptable. Some sort of trust has to exist from both ends for this to work. Where there's trust, there is safety. Where safety is, there's room for a little more effort. The rest is a race to save Lahabrea with this method before the feral state becomes irreversible.
He waits and then, Lahabrea doesn't need Elidibus to turn away to secure the stash. He infers where it is and trusts the Emissary not to do anything foolish. Which he will follow, though the books on Lahabrea shelves docontain a few volumes he has not gotten ahold of himself. If he finishes his own material brought along in the satchel, he'll just have to ask the Speaker to pass him an interesting book.
As long as there are cushions aplenty, Elidibus will not bring another with him. And before he approaches, he'll shed himself of his boots and socks, leaving only pants and shirt and bare feet. Once the cage is unlocked, the Ascian enters with care and great heed given to the danger zone of books and chest. The door is closed, the lock redone. The satchel was given a place to rest. Its contents can wait for a bit. He did, after all, set himself to a task after entry.
A cushion is chosen for him to sprawl into. Elidibus has been watching the mortals of late, seeking signs of bonding behavior that was not overly.... improper in tone. A great deal of this has consisted of various ways in which one sprawls over or against the other Bonded. It seems safe enough to try to encourage a form of it. Though the Emissary does start by reaching out (and up) with his hand. "There is something new I wish to try if you'll allow."
If Lahabrea would accept the hand, he will be encouraged to settle almost touching Elidibus.
Surely it is still just a matter of finding a new host for all of them. The only reason Lahabrea hadn't done so himself was the fact that his taint was soul-deep, had affected every thought he had; changing to a new body might simply mean enduring all of this a second time and warping a new shell into unrecognizability. But that Elidibus could simply find a new body to inhabit really wasn't the point as far as he's concerned. After having his impropriety thrown into stark relief in his attack on Emet-Selch not so long ago, he's not interested in repeating that grievous mistake any time soon, if he could help it.
The problem was, he's not sure he could help it, not during the damned full moons.
At least for the moment, there's no sudden overwhelming certainty that Elidibus is in fact after his treasures and he has to defend it, but he watches nonetheless, just in case, but it seems Elidibus is mindful of its location and has no intention of going near. That's fine. The comfortable spots were further away anyway, and he'd gone out of his way to collect all the best things for him to soothe himself with for the next few days.
Including the constant temptation of beanbag chair, waiting for the inevitability of Elidibus descending upon it once more.
Lahabrea himself has done no such research on bonds, and what was, and was not a good idea to do. That would require leaving, or dealing with neighbors, or other such things, but he did have a lone star-crossed lovers dime novel in the stack of books that suggested bodice ripping was in fact an amazing way to help strengthen a bond.
He has no intention of putting on a bodice, or suggesting Elidibus do the same. Instead there's an offered hand, and it's studied for a long silent moment before he acquiesces and does as bidden. "And what precisely are you intending to try?" Nothing improper surely, at least not intentionally, but their grip on what counted and what didn't was occasionally tenuous.
Spoiler Alert: It's not bodice-ripping. But also, Elidibus had fallen to the allure of the bean-bag chair. Why shouldn't he be comfortable during this practice session? It's not an addiction and he'll be able to stop any time he wants.
Of course, it wouldn't be as easy as offering out a hand. While it remains outstretched, there is a slack added to it, so it is not too tiresome to maintain its reach. "I have observed a public habit of Bonded pairs which is a step outside of our comfort and thus, more telling of whether there is any beneficial effect." There is a slight pause and close of the eyes before they're reopened. Though his expression didn't change, it may well be a version of steeling himself further over the remainder.
"One would stretch out, not unlike I have. While the other would settle close to their side. In varying degrees, the second Bonded would then overlap body parts while the first wraps an arm in an embrace. They were capable of both practicing touch and attending to a second task." For instance, reading a book. Or knitting. Or eating a meal. It was very impressive.
And thus Elidibus demystifies the nature of a cuddle with calm, simple details.
The bean bag chair will not be denied. To attempt such is pure folly. But on the bright side, it also keeps Elidibus from the little shards of black glass.
Lahabrea's responses are slow and measured, from movement to word, as if by patient carefulness he can avoid sudden flashes of rage or violence, root it all in thought and decision and there proceed as safely as possible. He understands what Elidibus is trying to say, he's seen it plenty ... albeit not so much here, on this star, for he traveled it much less than he did the Source in the guise of others.
After a long moment, Lahabrea sets his chisel to one side, the rounded lump of rock with it. Such a thing as entwining with another in that fashion was certainly not what he'd consider normally, it was an affront to autonomy at the very least, far beyond a mere passing touch. But more importantly, did it work? Did those that indulged in such displays benefit from it?
"I have seen what you speak of." Careful. But not here - in Ul'dah, in Gridania, in even Garlemald.
Such a mortal gesture. The surge of disgust and fury rises and falls like a briefly passing wave. Up, down and gone.
Had it always been a mortal gesture? He couldn't remember, and memory didn't elude him as often as it did Elidibus. "But you've somehow gotten smaller," the dragon mutters, as if this was in fact done on purpose by Elidibus simply to make things inconvenient, forcing him to move and adjust to the difference, to the outstretched arm. But he didn't have to move too far, he had a reach that exceeded the grasp of talons re-made sharp in the moon's sway, and there is a whisper of feather on fabric as he adjusts just enough to sweep his tail around, the long brassy feathers clamped close, and wrap the arc of crimson around both Elidibus and the ever tempting bean chair and with it, drag both just a touch closer. Enough to reach without reaching.
He knew that tail was a fair bit longer than most dragons had that he's seen, but it had its uses. "Mayhap.."
"And you taller," Elidibus answers. He may have meant this literally. He really didn't bother to compare heights with Ardbert when he'd first found the Warrior of Light. He did feel it was about the same. Well, no matter. It probably wasn't a thoughtless memory meandering out of his mouth. Probably.
He's.... scooted. Gone from idly wondering what Lahabrea was doing with his tail to finding out firsthand. There's that brief sound of shuuuuuuuuuf and mild crackle that is outer canvas dragging against a floor littered with bits of obsidian chips. At the end of the trip, he reaches back toward the satchel and there's a rustle of the packet of ginger snaps before he draws one out and crunches it. "Hm." Again reaching in, the Emissary takes out another and offers it up to Lahabrea with his free hand. He was told it's polite to bring food and thus, he brought food.
"Your tail is remarkably convenient," Elidibus notes. "How well can it manipulate what it holds?" This.... also really doesn't have a lot to do with cuddles. Though with proximity comes a long, thoughtful look over the real differences in their length. Touch has also opened a door to a deeper sense of the dragon's feelings. It's... a bubbling cauldron. He was given some warning by the earlier surge and lapse in Lahabrea's comprehension. But now it's much... more real. And stirs a sense of concern for the Speaker from his fellow Ascian.
"Perhaps you should be the one to stay still while I overlap?" He already has the ends of the fingers belonging to the clasped hand looking to burrow under the nearest feathers and give an experimental scratching by the scales.
Perception is everything. Elidibus might well be exactly the same size as before! But the perspective has changed, and Lahabrea didn't precisely have a ruler up against the wall by which to measure himself. "Not well." Still careful, still measuring careful restraint, any flicker of fury or annoyance buried as if it were perfectly ordinary. "While easy to move there's no grip." Not prehensile, he couldn't wrap something tightly and lift it, but he could sweep from side to side easily enough, and bend back and forth or coil a little and that was about it. More lizard than serpent in that respect.
As it has been many times before, his relative quiet is deceptive. He's certain had Elidibus not somehow turned up on this planet that this would be another night of lost time and lost memories, and likely the next several days. Would he have ever come out of it? But even if it's a battle he'll inevitably lose, it's one he's used to fighting, and close contact does at the very least make it easier to do.
Acceptance is a long, long way off, and so the storm continues, seething foreign instinct and urges that have nothing at all to do with ascian or hyur impulses. That emptiness that fills Elidibus seems to drain a little bit of it away, tiny bit by tiny bit. Any respite is still a respite.
Though the ginger snap is taken, it's set on one knee instead of eaten. He's not sure that's going to work with the way his molars feel, and any such effort would have to be cautious. So much caution. He was sick of it. No wonder monsters would race to the streets or skies in their desperation to shake off caution and fear. Some distant part of his mind notes that ruffling up under the feathers definitely felt better, even if Elidibus lacked claws. "Whatever you may find most comfortable," is the obviously magnanimous response.
The last time he'd bothered with anything even vaguely similar he'd been wearing Thancred at the time and had begged out of more than one close encounter. Maybe it would be best if he let Elidibus do as he pleased and focused on keeping his head clear. The passivity itself is a bit of a struggle, a tug-of-war between forced acquiescence and the desire to shake him off and chase him out of the cage entirely. To do nothing at all.. a surprising amount of effort.
"Though if only contact is required. Mayhap it will be enough." If he could get his tail to curl the rest of the way in spite of feathers and bone structure beneath, he could in theory wrap Elidibus directly in a fluffy but possibly rather warm boa. But there are limits to his autonomous flexibility, by the way he can't quite get the offending appendage to bend further under his own efforts and will.
"Hm?" Elidibus looks puzzled. He'd been about to oblige by freeing his hand and shifting to a spot further along Lahabrea's arm. The exact places where the scritching is applied to the best effect should be carefully grid-searched! The Ascian is showing what might be to others an endearingly awkward level of self arrangement in this new position between the draws of beanbag and dragon. As well this whole matter of overlap changing to him being the smaller and more logical one to lean against the other.
But not so distracted as to miss feeling like he missed something important. "Be enough? Ah. Yes." Elidibus realizes it may be in reference to the notion he didn't need to do any overlapping at all. Not, there was some key matter he'd failed to observe in the public displays. To him, its use is one of trying to maximize contact needed to strengthen the Bond while also maintaining efficiency in a second task. He isn't naive. He knows mortals see and take more out of these actions than he would. One can argue he might even be aware that their race had once indulged, else wherefore would the discomfort of such displays have arisen between his fellow Unsundered?
But Elidibus had been thinking through the process just now as one would pour over an outline of dance steps as shown in diagrams in a book. Well, at least the realization that Lahabrea may have been speaking of something else seems to have hit him in good time.
Having finally settled, Elidibus ends up with one leg curled underneath him into the bean bag cushion and the other braced shin down against the coil of Lahabrea's tail wrapped around the base of his seat. His head and shoulders would likely settle somewhere against Lahabrea's stomach area. And his hands... Well, one goes about the systematic creep up the Speaker's arm. The other has reached into the satchel (again!!) and pulled out a book which, upon opening, is revealed to be something of a journal. So he has been writing things down after all. The writing in this case is the language very long dead to the world as their race, for that is its origin.
And he certainly hasn't gotten the journal enchanted against deciphering magic, he's just going to need to keep it close until he can suitably enchant it himself. Eorzean script is for a less private journal. This one has secrets. Like observations on dragons. He voices them as he picks up the pen and writes.
"The connection is clearer. Though one may infer this is as much to do with the full moon as it is our current position." Keeping up the journal writing and the scritching seems to pose no problem. The book is suitably wedged in a fold of the chair so it doesn't scoot around under the writing tool. His other hand moves steadily upward. "I can feel what caused the earlier fugue." That roiling creature underneath, though Elidibus doesn't linger overlong on its presence, so as not to draw too much notice to it. He knows Lahabrea is trying so hard. "Please tell me what you feel through me?"
Interest. Clinical observation. A hole in which emotions seem to stream without a sign of them ever hitting bottom. They may drain into the Emissary. But they do not seem to find purchase within.
Back then, while the first two might have been a majority when Elidibus studied something, that hole was unlikely to have been there. Instead perhaps a wonder and respect to all the differences of the world. Not which was right or which was wrong. But which was the best to serve all? And how fascinating it all was! To the point he'd often been reminded to go outside once in a while.
Who knows where things changed and fell apart. Maybe it was when they realized they'd likely have to watch their own Convocation die again and again. It wouldn't do to get too attached.
But time and absence makes it awkward and uncomfortable. Maybe not physically, the weight leaned against him is negligible and hardly full of sharp objects, but it all just seems so ... utterly intimate, so completely opposite of what had been comfortable centuries of habit and pattern. The uncertainty of it keeps instability bubbling up into anything truly concrete, just little sparks of annoyance at every shift and move that inevitably settles itself back down in short order.
It fights two very different sets of behavior, neither of which is overly keen on it - but it is necessary.
And it doesn't feel bad, to feel someone else's breath against his body, the muted pulse of another, or fingers working their way through his feathers. It felt better than solitude, it felt appropriate and right, which meant of course it wasn't, and he should be careful.
"I'm not sure it's the moons." Can he be sure? Not at all. "It's ... distinctly different, now versus a few minutes ago." How was it different? Lahabrea wasn't exactly sure, it wasn't something he could get his teeth around. That it seemed easier in turn seemed like an inexact explanation, and his inability to formulate anything ELSE spiked his annoyance significantly. Language defined thought, and if he couldn't find a word for it, him of all people--
But the seething monster beneath his skin lingers, chewing away at the edges of alert consciousness constantly. It's a little strange, how it's both distinct and utterly the same as Lahabrea, less as if someone had simply dropped a dragon in the back of his mind and more simply added a few elements to reshape what had already been. There's no immediate response to Elidibus' question as to what he feels in return, for this takes stillness and reflection. This takes pushing aside the endless storm of turmoil and trying to find a focus point instead.
His hands itched to continue the work he'd set himself to earlier, simply to continue to direct his thoughts. He leans forward slightly, more flexible than he usually gets to enjoy in a hyur body, blond hair and feathers a pale curtain easily long enough to dangle to the point of touching Elidibus' own dark hair. A not unuseful thing, it traps scent a little better and he was still getting used to adjusted senses. "Very little." The free hand rise, cookie not forgotten but still left where it was on his knee, to gently run a clawtip through that dark hair, not hard enough to even leave a line in its wake. "Not ..."
Frustration again, a quick, hot surge almost felt in skin and breath as much as emotion, a brief temperature spike. Eloquence eludes him, and it shouldn't. "Not a sense of nothingness, as if there were no tug on the other end of a chain. A sense of thought, of consideration and contemplation, of awareness and intelligence, but there is no impression... that you feel." This last is a soft exhalation of heat and faintly minty scent.
"At all. No pain. No fear. No joy or happiness, or rage or sorrow, a presence but little to fill it, an image of a soul and not the passions that motivate one. Like staring at an endless sky through glass, unable to feel the wind or sun, or smell the air."
Touch helped him, redirected the animal that shared his mind whether he wished it or not, but what did it do for a witch? Did they suffer any turmoil? He could pick up nothing that felt like a constant disruption. "Do you feel? Can I make you feel, I wonder."
What an interesting sensation. Elidibus had expected more discomfort and awkwardness, yet this... becomes easier the longer it happens. 'Bond or mortal instinct? A lingering sense of unease but overall positive.' is written down.
As Lahabrea begins to explain the sensation from his end, Elidibus notes the rise and fall of the Ascian's emotional state. The frequency of the shifts in the dragon's condition gives ample material from which to separate surface emotions from the undercurrent of dragonish 'being' the Speaker fights against. At the same time, recognizing the two as individual forces is... incorrect? The Emissary's brow furrows as he dwells on the matter. Was it perhaps true then, that Lahabrea is fighting against what is fundamentally his own nature?
The spikes in temperature, the struggle with eloquence, these are certainly noticed. And Elidibus skips Lahabrea's shoulder and goes to the neck. It's less thorough and more practiced. He wouldn't ever admit that he's been practicing on the amaro but...
Try to calm, attempt to soothe. See if the distress and spikes of anger are minimized. "Try to relax a little more, now the contact seems to be showing signs of aiding you."
In turn, the small attentions Lahabrea gives in return seem to have a relaxing effect on Elidibus's host, for all finding an emotional response is... well.
The pen stills. There's no tapping on the page or any other thoughtful or agitated gesture. Yet it's the only clear sign that Elidibus is taking heed to Lahabrea's words. No. There's a flutter of something that stirs underneath the lack of feeling but hard to define. He is, after all, keeping himself free of what little emotion he has. But there are some answers he can give.
"There is no room for joy or happiness whilst our God fractured, our peoples' souls scattered," he answers without any sign of remorse. It is, to Elidibus, a matter of fact. "Fear... Perhaps once, a long time ago." Beyond a time he can recall. "Fear is a weapon I refuse to let our enemies use against me. Pain. I am slowly learning what the various discomforts of this mortal form mean." Ah, but is that what Lahabrea means by pain?
Rage and sorrow. He knows those. Elidibus had never looked up until then. Not toward Lahabrea but to some point outside the cage. The Emissary closes his eyes and invokes an image. His variation of the Source. His Warrior of Light and the memory of learning... seeing Emet-Selch's confrontation and fall. It does invoke a low boil of something like rage.
Distant, partially detached. In Lahabrea's analogy, it would be a wind strong enough to rattle the sheet of glass keeping him separate from the experience. But wholly belonging to the Ascian. "I know rage," he offers with quiet intensity. "And I think.. sorrow." The rage doesn't last long. Without the real, physical presence of what he invokes, emotions really don't last long.
But then whether it's Elidibus's own efforts to keep an emotionless state or the touch of the taloned finger brushing along his short hair.
"I would not be against effort on your part to try, Lahabrea," Elidibus has returned to a normal state and continues to write with the pen to catch up on his notes. "It would be beneficial to know. Would you rather I make an effort to resist or simply allow its natural course?"
The scales are thinner there, the feathers sparser; either they weren't finished growing in yet or were for some strange reason weaker. Every dragon had a spot that needed to be protected, but there was no great drive beyond practicality to protect it, and Lahabrea had no reason to think Elidibus might suddenly drive a spike through the side of his throat.
No, the point of this was to allow touch and see what happened, and there was no-one else to see and mock or deride. So it's allowed without protest, and no comment made about it. It feels nice; maybe it was why a dog or a horse or a bandersnatch might lean into a questing hand at their throats, eyes closed in trusting bliss. The mapping of such a feeling to mere animals is ... not comfortable, not something he wants to weigh long.
There are other distractions, than a pleasant touch along skin and feather and scale. "No. There is."
But it's hard to formulate. There's room for joy, for fear, for hope and loss.
Was he even capable of connecting to something other than burning fury, with the dragon so close to the surface, even with the calming presence of a bond and the soothing touch of foreign magic? Instead of answering whether or not Elidibus would be better off resisting or doing nothing, he struggles with the line of thought instead. How? If he couldn't describe it, could he ever do it?
"There's more than stoicism. There's laughter. There's silliness." It's not quite a massage, for that would preclude the sharp tips of claws, but he draws them nonetheless across across Elidibus' scalp in slow spirals as he works on beating the beast down enough to think. "To remember it and live it and breathe it is .. to remember once was something better, something nobler than the misery of the moment. To honor a god shaped by love and hope and the high wild joys of life, and show we have not forgotten ... not in memory of this incident or that time, but in our souls, what it means to shepherd a world. Not just.. the weight of responsibility alone. We are vast, we are great, and we can contain more than just the pain of loss or determination to see a task through." It takes him a while to put it together, bit by bit, with the undercurrent of fury that never ended.
He could remember times where there was happiness. Flashes of better things, more vivid things than the day to day struggle. He could remember the flush of pride and joy in success and not only grim satisfaction. Dredging them up now is hard. It's slow. It's all slow, with gaps and pauses and awkward tones and ire when he can't shape what he wants out of words even with the ongoing efforts to soothe away the lunar rage. "If there is no laughter, then our God's touch is somewhere else. If there is no joy or peace, even in fleeing moments then there is no hope. We become merely the tattered remnants of melancholy people basking in our inability to be people. If we cannot celebrate, how can we truly worship?"
Lahabrea closes his eyes, though whether from the touch against his skin or to measure thoughts or continue to work to lock the scent and sound of Elidibus in his mind so there must not in the future be risk to him from the beast ... it's a mystery. All of them. None of them. "Our God would not be shamed to see us wrench a moment of silliness out of our dark duty, or feel a spark of fear. What is fear but a motivating force? We can't let it control us, of course, but to feel it .. to feel any of it... is a gift."
He found his own joy and happiness, though sometimes it was merely in watching mortals struggle and fail and die, over and over. But still... it's a happiness. "Through our elation, and our misery, we show Lord Zodiark we have not forgotten what it means to live, and that one day soon He too .. will be free to experience more than our vicarious pain." The little circles of clawtips continue, slow and measured. "Stoicism is easier. But it is better to share what we can with Him, isn't it? It's why I won't break such a silly thing as Emet-Selch's bond with that rabbit. A little joy, however fleeting it must be..."
Elidibus's efforts at 'experimenting with contact' slow as he listens to Lahabrea struggling to articulate how there is room for joy and sorrow. The pen stills again but this time, it is set down. So much has been said that has logical meaning. The words spoken of their God... how true. Has he not said as much before, in the past? He has, hasn't he? A soft sigh escapes him as though resigned.
But that is completely opposite of the emotion struggling to surface and make its way through the bond. The one that so oft surfaces when struggling through the realization of another lost memory, though most usually hidden behind mask and robe. Confusion. Frustration. If it is this bad now, how much moreso was it in the beginning when he realized what was happening to him?
"I am Elidibus. And it is my duty to remain ever apart, that I might keep the balance between Light and Dark. That I may steer our people to the correct choice." The others got to shepherd the world. He... he was a shepherd to their people, whether that be for or against their actions. He had to remain apart.
The Ascian doesn't look up. But his shoulders have hunched and tension which had been removed by earlier, surprisingly relaxing contact and touch, is returning. His expression would be one likened to distress and struggle. Of someone who repeats a rote message to make sure he remembers he still has his duty... over and over and over again. Those words have that cadence. Of one seeking to still some unrest. It is like a twisted taint upon those old times, where his enthusiasm for work bordered on obsession, but was done with such joy and wonder for the world.
"Memories are so fleeting. Would you ask me to bear their happiness? Their joy of the moment, when they will fade again?" He's said something of the sort to Emet-Selch before. But here, there is something to add. A tap of his free hand to the open journal. "It is enough that I must suffer writing of a matter here." And should he write of some fleeting happiness and forget it? There it would be, stark proof. He is not looking forward to it. "No. I would rather remain true to my office. Therein lies my purpose, even here."
Without his memories, he is only his duty and the will of his people. Without the title of Elidibus, without performing that duty is he then nothing? The fingers still at rest against the side of the dragon's neck dig in a little. It seems the answer to Lahabrea's earlier question is yes. Elidibus can still feel pain in the emotional sense, if not the physical.
And perhaps implied, that he suffers fear, though it does not surface here. He is but a Primal, uncertain whether he can even be considered the true Elidibus. Where would be his place at duty end, but to perhaps, if lucky, return to Zodiark's heart?
And if not, to fade into oblivion.
Elidibus doesn't push Lahabrea's actions away. In a sense, the touch is an anchor he can use. But also a part of him seems to recognize that he's hiding nothing from his fellow Ascian. And maybe underneath it all, there is something soothing he craves about it. If only he had the capacity.
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Yes, give them. POSTS FOR THE POST GOD--- I mean BOX.
Date: 1 Feb 2021 23:35 (UTC)Mid-Ieneuer had seen a little less of the Emissary. On top of his normal studies of magic and combat and the world of Talam, he'd been drawn to observing the matter of the Circle and kidnappings to gain a pulse on the darker undercurrent of Aefenglom's flow. And to put more of his 'Ardbert' identity in peoples' minds perhaps. For instance, one day he'd come back with bottles of alcohol and stored them in the chest. Which was closed only after being thoroughly sure the Cherry Bomb was nowhere in attendance. His error earlier this month will not quickly be forgotten.
So the matter of whether he would be here today at the start of the full moon, had been in question. Indeed, whether the first full moon since their Bond and his arrival was a wise time to visit may have been examined carefully. But the benefits and, dare he say it 'desire', to attend had finally made the choice a simple matter. The solid thud of boots on less squeaky stairs and the scent- perhaps the Bond strengthens a touch with proximity- and it's certainly the Emissary.
Another hint is that those footsteps would have been heard going upstairs first, though, to change. What he comes down with is not robes and mask, but the sleeveless brown turtleneck, pants, and footwear. This much shouldn't be surprising if one were to consider he planned to spend considerable time in the basement. He'd brought with him a satchel too which, though mostly in containers, there are some scents of food escaping from it. Elidibus had not come empty-handed.
"I apologize. I meant to arrive before sunset but matters kept me." In all honesty, given what he's heard he's not sure how Lahabrea will look or act. So he's slow to descend and looking toward the cage even before he's fully in view. This being the best decision does not mean due caution isn't in order. "Have you kept your wits about you thus far, Lahabrea?"
TAGS FOR THE TAG THRONE
Date: 2 Feb 2021 00:22 (UTC)Although his hearing isn't as sharp as many turnskins, it's enough to hear the door, and then footsteps. Not a stranger, nobody who didn't know where they were going would stride from place to place without hesitation, and marginally he relaxes. There was always the possibility of someone unwelcome of course, but they'd get one nasty surprise for their efforts.
And as Elidibus comes down the stairs, albeit at a rather measured pace, he's watched through narrowed eyes. The cage hasn't been reopened, the outside lock still firmly in place, nothing's been destroyed yet, and there's a chisel in one hand. Not ... precisely the actions of a beast, but one can never be sure. "As much as ever."
Which is a complete lie, but his recollection of feral states is dim at best, and so far not an issue. Previously... previously he hadn't had the soothing outside source of magic, whether or not it came from a fledgling witch. But the steady resistance of any impulse he recognized as not naturally his certainly did him no favors. One hand rises to gesture; there's still other cushions about, outside the cage. "The bars should hold."
He sounds.. fairly normal, for all that's worth. The same dry rasp, even if it doesn't really match the undercurrent of emotion beneath it. His control for the time being, is iron.
But this time there's no immediate effort to curl in on himself or hide, he remains on his comfortable cushion without even his mask to obscure his features, the bold red and gold markings across his face almost but not quite a substitute. "What have you been doing?"
Anything is a distraction.
no subject
Date: 2 Feb 2021 03:42 (UTC)For now, Elidibus chooses to take the proffered cushions. The satchel is placed on a low table beside his chosen seating. This will all be dragged relatively close to the cage, though respect for the dragon's reach through those bars is given, for the time being. Out of the satchel comes two packets of cookies. Ginger snap of course; he's become quite interested in them.
"I brought these," the Emissary offers, as a subtle indication that he desires to approach and pass the packet through to Lahabrea. And, as he has noticed the chisel in hand and the project it's being used for- it being rather difficult to miss- he adds, "Am I to presume your full moon condition affords the clarity for such delicate craft with the dragon brimming so close to the surface?" Perfectly mild. Utterly dry. Yes, this is Elidibus and he is calling you on your lie, Lahabrea.
As for what Elidibus has been doing? "Patrols. A watch for those manipulated and those being kidnapped in the city by the Evergreen Circle." He doesn't have to pretend the fervent dedication to doing good deeds characteristics of Warriors of Light here so he doesn't. But the Ascian does explain further. By this time there's been enough time for Lahabrea to accept the packet or refuse it, so Elidibus is settled on his chosen cushion and one cookie into his own.
"My observations have been insightful, albeit more difficult than I'm accustomed." For one thing, people can easily see him and he can't use magic or natural ability to scry matters from afar. "Aside from that matter, I have been visiting the archives of the Coven and researching this world." Elidibus's mouth twitches in a sign of annoyance. "The approach of the full moon seems to have weakened my grasp on the magick of this world." Which was already comparatively non-existent. "There never seems to be enough aether. I will have to plan for this in the coming moon."
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Date: 2 Feb 2021 11:48 (UTC)Every word is a rebuke, etched with promise and surety, the gift of treats shunned with little more than a disregarding glare. He can at least still speak, even if it's with the tenuously controlled fury of an offended dragon. "I expect better of you." The chisel is gestured with, a sharp and jagged angry motion. "When one struggles with distracted thoughts, one finds something with which to focus those thoughts. It is not the end result which is of primary concern, or even tertiary concern! But if you dare question my clarity, pray let me put such delicate work aside so I may turn my attention to peeling you out of your sneering hide instead." How much is Lahabrea's unpredictable temperament and how much is the boiling instability of the full moons is at serious question, and he himself is not being forthcoming with any distinction. Attempting to call him out on anything that smelled like a lie might be unwise for the next few days.
His glare lingers for a long, long silent moment, as if outright daring Elidibus to question it further before very deliberately turning back to the work he's given himself, carefully chipping away at the dark stone bit by bit. Their bond, it seems, doesn't spare Elidibus at all from Lahabrea's ire, though that it is for the time only ire and not sudden explosive violence hearkens either to fragile control or some measure of protection.
It's likely for the best that their bond is still fairly muted, at least in comparison of those many who take such things much further and share dreams in the night, else the seething storm of unwelcome emotion might well be extremely unpleasant for the Emissary to deal with on two separate levels. He should be ashamed of the careful waltz around his temper that others must take or risk undeserved or exaggerated retaliation, but he doesn't care. Did he ever care?
The matters of the world and what Elidibus has been up to is not the distraction he'd hoped it'd be, though that might be his own lingering fury and not a lack of interesting or relevant topics to pursue. The lack of aether with which to draw on for a fledgling witch should be alarming, but most new witches also didn't bond with a monster right away, and monsters absolutely were a steady draw on power. Power that should by rights be constantly at the witch's fingertips and eager to be used at all opportunities, negating the risk of early build-up and possible magical explosion. If Lahabrea himself is the reason why there's not enough aether to manipulate.. "In two weeks such a difficulty will reverse itself. How did you attend the last new moon?"
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Date: 2 Feb 2021 16:11 (UTC)Back to the eye-opening matter. First, Lahabrea is certainly not 'feral'. But Elidibus would be hard-pressed to think the Speaker would have, back on their worlds, turned such ireful words on his fellow Ascians. But there, Elidibus himself would not have given reason to.
It is hard to say if he felt any true emotion. Without a mask, it was easy to see realization and thoughtful reflection. But fear, surprise, and apology are... lacking in the usual set of Elidibus's expression when he no longer needs to offer pretense.
"I misjudged the conditions presented by the full moon's sway," the Emissary admits. "I would be interested to hear how you've spent them in the past. How they may differ or not to this moment." Just as Elidibus himself is being asked of his activities during the moon most likely to influence him. But first, "I may be finding it difficult to fully shake the influences of regularly interacting with mortals." Not so much that he's becoming mortal, but that he finds it hard to transition between the act- as he becomes more accustomed to the routine of mortality- and reality. "Is it this world and this prison of a body? Or is it my relative lack of recent experience with a host?" The thoughtful rhetoric is shrugged away. "No doubt it is just as well I will be moving into the rooms here within the week." Provided of course Lahabrea spares him the divestment of his physical form.
Now there's the last new moon. "I took advantage of the small rise in power to practice control." Truthfully Elidibus was fortunate that his first new moon, one that was unusually strong at that, was within two weeks of his arrival. Next month will be... interesting as the world brings him more under its sway. "Enchantment seemed to come with particular ease. For the most part, I sought to blend the magick here with the techniques of a warrior." Elidibus takes the time to crunch another cookie. "There was... some success. In time, it should be perfectly viable." He ended up holding a combo chain for a full round even.
Once. But it was a start.
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Date: 2 Feb 2021 17:08 (UTC)"You have misjudged much," is the rumbled response, more little flakes of obsidian falling away. Whatever he's making, it's a fairly rounded shape but far too early in its work to be judged as any real shape at all. But he does have something in mind, something that, if it were to break or he couldn't complete it he could simply start again later .. but it keeps his hands occupied. Or at least, somewhat so, and some level of preoccupation to keep from slipping with the small chisel and thus crack the whole thing. Lahabrea brushes off the question in turn - right now he's simply not interested in discussing it, it wasn't the right kind of distraction and would only refocus his attention on the turmoil he currently endured.
Easier, someone else's problems. And with no filters at all on thought or word, and an undue influence towards paranoia and aggression.. any topic at all might not exactly fare well. "A lack of experience." There's a brief flick of one ear, a flicker of disdain flashing up. "That body is no different than others, and the pressures of Aefenglom rather lessened than what would be in the Source." Although people could always hear and see them, they also didn't have quite as much to hide. No clandestine meetings, no disappearing into thin air without warning, no sense of that umbral presence that marked Ascians to those of alert senses. No delicate games of politic and manipulation to turn entire nations towards a desired goal, that were they discovered would unravel much.
Easier, in that respect.
Harder in others, for the price it carried.
There were surely some in this world who would look at trying to maintain any such warrior-ish skill with amusement and disdain, but sooner or later they're going to get an axe to the face and learn an important lesson. But it's an easier topic, one that doesn't come with inherent fury and antagonism. "Is that so. What enchantments are you dabbling with?" It can only be a dabble at this point, as plans are made and tested. It's much too early to have come to any permanent decisions.
Some elemental enchantments might be wise, eventually, to abuse all the weaknesses his kind and others seem to possess.
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Date: 2 Feb 2021 18:17 (UTC)It would never fool Ardbert's companions. But he didn't expect it to even when he was trying his utmost. Irhya... well, that's for debate. It was just long enough for him to settle into Aefenglom anyway. Another reason why it's better to leave Tataru's generous company, in case the Warrior of Light decides to spill the beans to the lalafell.
Lack of any insight into the experience of full moons is not pursued, but likely will be at a later date. A bottle full of water is pulled out. Still cold and crisp from the winter travel, but the supply is likely to warm up soon enough in the basement. Before responding, Elidibus cracks it open and takes a drink. "For the experiment last new moon, physical enhancement. A sharper cut, a stronger blow." The Emissary flicks his fingers dismissively. Of course it wasn't meant to be just that. He was working on the basics of control then. Foundation.
"I am focusing upon the elements of earth, ice, and fire for now. I have been exploring some efforts in manifesting Light but to no avail." Such experiments, even if their end result will be in vain, will likely have to wait until he has more of a mastery over his magic in general. "Nor does Darkness come to my beck." Elidibus, one of the few Ascians who would talk about Light with equal measure to Darkness. That's what happens when you are the very being the whole concept of the Warrior of Light was born from.
I can invoke wind, lightning, and water," Elidibus won't mention how little the evocation it was. But it was enough to show the elements were there to be practiced. "But I decided to narrow my attentions to half the amount until I'm assured of its functional use." Sure, he might have to narrow further and build that way but... Ascian ego. It's a thing.
Misjudgment. Errors. Elidibus seems to be making a lot of those lately. Perhaps this is why he quietly mentions aloud, after a sigh. "This star. Somehow I feel rushed." The eyes open again and he looks at the cookie between his fingers. "...Almost desperate, in a way I have no recollection of experiencing."
Even the scramble to save the Thirteenth did not immediately invoke a memory of the feelings he might have felt then. Not even the moments he had more recently experienced, in personally taking the stage... and near the moment of his transfer as the Warrior of Light-turned-Darkness approached the warded Crystal Tower to confront him. The latter had been... inevitability.
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Date: 2 Feb 2021 18:42 (UTC)There's a point where as Elidibus speaks the words slowly become meaningless, a distortion of noise and inflection with no connection to an idea or object or thought, and with it a strange sensation in their bond, not unlike reaching for the next step down a flight of stairs and finding no step at all but a sudden forward lurch into emptiness.
Some distant, tenuously felt force of wrath rises, like fog on a lake. He closes his eyes, hands still on the chunk of stone.
The disconcerting weightless feeling ends as suddenly as it began, and as if there had been nothing at all, he resumes chipping, the sounds resolving into words about feeling rushed. "I wonder why." Nothing comes to mind for what might cause a feeling of being harried. "We .. you do have forever. All will see to its place, in time. Mastery of this star, of its crippled skills. How long has it been since any of us have walked under an unfamiliar sky, with unknown rules and demands?"
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Date: 2 Feb 2021 19:49 (UTC)"The lack of potency in restorative spells would certainly suggest--" What Elidibus was about to say is suddenly cut off by lurching vertigo which strikes through the Bond. He has some familiarity with nausea, thanks to a certain recent bout of drinks he has no intention of bringing up... ever. This wasn't quite the same, but it is enough to thoroughly snap the Emissary temporarily out of any conversation he was about to have on the subject of the rushed feeling.
He wouldn't have been able to give much of an answer anyway, toward the notion of how long it had been.
Elidibus falls quiet as matters stabilize and Lahabrea continues only the slightest sense that something had occurred. There is something not... right in the manner in which the Speaker forcibly controls the wrath. Back home, it might have been commendable. Here, less so. Yet by that same wrath and emotion, broaching the topic is likewise a hazardous endeavor. As has been amply demonstrated.
Elidibus rises and finally touches on the second subject without really finishing the first. "It may be the inexperience of living at a mortal's pace has invoked an impetus to meet their speed." All the more reason to be glad he'll have the luxury of a house with only a fellow Ascian to rest his body in. Slow down, study it all. But to not leave the matter of Lahabrea's transformation behind...
Ah. Perhaps that is it.
"Will you permit me to come closer, Lahabrea?" Elidibus may not know where, but he doesn't doubt the dragon, aside from the matters of precaution, has hidden his horde somewhere in that cage. His hands are empty but one is held up, indicating an offer of contact. It.... has become a little easier to make such gestures, in the past couple of weeks.
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Date: 2 Feb 2021 20:16 (UTC)And when clearheaded.. or as much as possible, less reason yet to leave.
But this is the first time he's had anyone else there too, disrupting the flow, changing the sense of the night. Was it still enough to convince the creature he was becoming that it was safe, and home, and a secure territory that doesn't need constant defending?
"The illusion of time running out." Claws tap briefly against the obsidian, like marking out seconds. His tone hasn't risen back to that earlier sound of outrage, muted in the quiet of the basement. "The frail sense of false mortality: the past tempting us, the present daunting us; the future, a frightening inevitability. And our days slip away, moment by moment, lost in that vast, terrible in-between. Yet we have been given eternity for which to unravel that catalyst of fear and forge from it a glorious wonder."
How long did he have? Not an eternity. Not anymore. But he can be maudlin with his words, in the time that he had words to use. Elidibus is glanced up at as he rises, the question that follows not drawing an immediate response. The bars were there for the protection of others, the lock simple to manage but there too as a reminder of what must be.
"On these, of all nights?" He shakes his head slightly, the weight of changed horns an unfamiliar ache. "Foolish to ask. It would be unwise. I can guarantee no safety and care not to deal with what might follow should the days pass and I find blood staining my claws."
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Date: 2 Feb 2021 23:03 (UTC)Gently, as if trying not to speak too loudly lest the echo causes a fragile crystal to shatter, Elidibus does offer, "We spoke a little before of the future, as I tended your injury." Of what Lahabrea is becoming. Of the future. Of... Zodiark's love. Naturally, he will not elaborate here. "What help may I give you now, to accept future you can forge past this daunting present?"
Time is relative. Even Ascians would know that to some extent, having traveled to different worlds and find that minutes, years, and days pass so quickly to another's moment. Lahabrea may have mere centuries in his body, but it is a far cry better to Elidibus of right now than to return to somewhere his fellow Unsundered were already gone. He can save the Lahabrea in front of him now, even if they must work within the confines of their current prison's rules to do it.
"I know it would be unwise. Yet I would approach nonetheless," Elidibus answers. He does not start forward but waits, patient and respectful of Lahabrea's stance on the matter. For a moment, his gaze shifts away in a moment of thought. But they are back upon the Speaker before he continues.
"I felt through our Bond a sensation not entirely unlike tilting ...off a cliff and falling." It's admittedly a struggle to find proper words for this. A matter of vertigo is rarely an issue for an Ascian. And for Elidibus almost nonexistent. But oddly distressing. A bit of this shows on features usually devoid of general emotion. His voice remains collected as ever. But perhaps the desire to help is instead stressed by the actual words Elidibus uses. "Blood may stain your claws. But for what is this Bond, except to even risk injury so that I might catch you when you fall?"
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Date: 2 Feb 2021 23:36 (UTC)But none of it he responds to immediately. He understands deeply and intrinsically the risk that Elidibus doesn't seem to. Silenced for so long, should the leash slip, the beast would not be easily corralled and would lash out in fury at anything on hand. Anyone, for that matter.
Once, the idea of any of this being a concern would be laughable. Not even worth entertaining in the worst of nightmare scenarios.
But the rains have not ceased for a very long time.
"Tis best to not fall off the cliff." It's an almost absent, distracted response, the rest of his thoughts elsewhere. Elidibus might not care if he bled for his efforts, Lahabrea very much did. "A beast waits at the bottom, hungry and furious. I don't think it would care much if that biscuit were its meal, or you." No difference, to an animal. Food was food, threats were threats, and the best way to handle both was violence.
He straightens a touch then, a frown fixed on his features, ears pinned back against his hair. "You will not catch me if I fall. You do not understand this. I will never hear you, but another creature will." His control is iron. "You will find in your hands a beast that snarls, and growls, and strains toward freedom every moment waking or sleeping.. and as hard as I try, I cannot kill it. You may be willing to risk blood on the floor yet again. I am not."
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Date: 3 Feb 2021 02:19 (UTC)Except perhaps another Unsundered. Elidibus truly wishes to know more, but also to be someone to whom Lahabrea can speak more than the fragment he just professed.
"At the end of the day, should the feral side manifest Lahabrea, no steel will hold a dragon's rage. And the bars are too far apart for your smallest form. Where I stand in this room will make no difference." So in a way, he should not have come in at all. Yet, Elidibus had, knowing how fragile the illusion of the cage and security was.
Elidibus shows no sign of mockery. Steadfast, he picks up his satchel. But... not to leave.
"I desire to remain if you would allow. And given the conditions, perhaps it would be best to spend the time practicing the best means of physical contact. Would you please secure your hoard and make room for me?" He will, of course, turn around should Lahabrea give in to the idea that Elidibus means to stay. Naturally, he'll be bringing his food and drink and probably books along.
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Date: 3 Feb 2021 02:35 (UTC)There were no other Unsundered that might be dragged into this world unless it grew so cruel as to seize Amaurotines directly and inflict this hell upon them ... and that might well be worse than what's been done to him. He's had at least a few eons to adapt to unwelcome changes in environment or the attitudes of others.. but learning that adaption had come at a terrible price they'd all paid. Some poor soul snatched off the streets of the Black City would have no such familiarity, or explanation at all. Only the sudden horror like unto the End Times, though less contagious in its terror.
It's for the best, really. He wouldn't wish this fate on others of his kind.
This stubborn persistence was going to get Elidibus killed. He's certain of that too, whether by accident or design.
But wasn't contact supposed to help? Would it do anything about the warping of language into nonsense, the wavering sense of self and time, the boiling fury that never quite went away? None of it was as all-consuming as it had been the month before, but it felt like a near thing.
"If I tell you to leave, you will leave. No questions, no arguments. I will not have Ascian blood on my hands again." There's always a price, it seems, in trying to negotiate for anything with Lahabrea. This one might be rather less personally demanding than the last, of memory and effort into maintaining it!
But where is that little stash of jewels and precious metals? His gaze shifts to the side, weighing how safe it is. The cage is spacious, forged for something considerably larger than he was now, a cell more properly than merely a holding place for a beast in its tenuous comforts. But here indeed were the best of cushions, the softest blankets, the nicest area rug. His books, a magicked lamp. It might be better appointed than the sleeping space he usually utilized, but for the long stark shadows the bars throw. "And stay astray of the books." Which must thus be where he's also keeping his precious things, presumably the box they're stacked upon.
What a terrible temptation, putting all the reading material where murder would result if approached.
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Date: 3 Feb 2021 03:37 (UTC)"I shall," Elidibus agrees. Conditions are... acceptable. Some sort of trust has to exist from both ends for this to work. Where there's trust, there is safety. Where safety is, there's room for a little more effort. The rest is a race to save Lahabrea with this method before the feral state becomes irreversible.
He waits and then, Lahabrea doesn't need Elidibus to turn away to secure the stash. He infers where it is and trusts the Emissary not to do anything foolish. Which he will follow, though the books on Lahabrea shelves docontain a few volumes he has not gotten ahold of himself. If he finishes his own material brought along in the satchel, he'll just have to ask the Speaker to pass him an interesting book.
As long as there are cushions aplenty, Elidibus will not bring another with him. And before he approaches, he'll shed himself of his boots and socks, leaving only pants and shirt and bare feet. Once the cage is unlocked, the Ascian enters with care and great heed given to the danger zone of books and chest. The door is closed, the lock redone. The satchel was given a place to rest. Its contents can wait for a bit. He did, after all, set himself to a task after entry.
A cushion is chosen for him to sprawl into. Elidibus has been watching the mortals of late, seeking signs of bonding behavior that was not overly.... improper in tone. A great deal of this has consisted of various ways in which one sprawls over or against the other Bonded. It seems safe enough to try to encourage a form of it. Though the Emissary does start by reaching out (and up) with his hand. "There is something new I wish to try if you'll allow."
If Lahabrea would accept the hand, he will be encouraged to settle almost touching Elidibus.
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Date: 3 Feb 2021 15:37 (UTC)The problem was, he's not sure he could help it, not during the damned full moons.
At least for the moment, there's no sudden overwhelming certainty that Elidibus is in fact after his treasures and he has to defend it, but he watches nonetheless, just in case, but it seems Elidibus is mindful of its location and has no intention of going near. That's fine. The comfortable spots were further away anyway, and he'd gone out of his way to collect all the best things for him to soothe himself with for the next few days.
Including the constant temptation of beanbag chair, waiting for the inevitability of Elidibus descending upon it once more.
Lahabrea himself has done no such research on bonds, and what was, and was not a good idea to do. That would require leaving, or dealing with neighbors, or other such things, but he did have a lone star-crossed lovers dime novel in the stack of books that suggested bodice ripping was in fact an amazing way to help strengthen a bond.
He has no intention of putting on a bodice, or suggesting Elidibus do the same. Instead there's an offered hand, and it's studied for a long silent moment before he acquiesces and does as bidden. "And what precisely are you intending to try?" Nothing improper surely, at least not intentionally, but their grip on what counted and what didn't was occasionally tenuous.
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Date: 4 Feb 2021 01:00 (UTC)But also, Elidibus had fallen to the allure of the bean-bag chair. Why shouldn't he be comfortable during this practice session? It's not an addiction and he'll be able to stop any time he wants.
Of course, it wouldn't be as easy as offering out a hand. While it remains outstretched, there is a slack added to it, so it is not too tiresome to maintain its reach. "I have observed a public habit of Bonded pairs which is a step outside of our comfort and thus, more telling of whether there is any beneficial effect." There is a slight pause and close of the eyes before they're reopened. Though his expression didn't change, it may well be a version of steeling himself further over the remainder.
"One would stretch out, not unlike I have. While the other would settle close to their side. In varying degrees, the second Bonded would then overlap body parts while the first wraps an arm in an embrace. They were capable of both practicing touch and attending to a second task." For instance, reading a book. Or knitting. Or eating a meal. It was very impressive.
And thus Elidibus demystifies the nature of a cuddle with calm, simple details.
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Date: 4 Feb 2021 01:14 (UTC)Lahabrea's responses are slow and measured, from movement to word, as if by patient carefulness he can avoid sudden flashes of rage or violence, root it all in thought and decision and there proceed as safely as possible. He understands what Elidibus is trying to say, he's seen it plenty ... albeit not so much here, on this star, for he traveled it much less than he did the Source in the guise of others.
After a long moment, Lahabrea sets his chisel to one side, the rounded lump of rock with it. Such a thing as entwining with another in that fashion was certainly not what he'd consider normally, it was an affront to autonomy at the very least, far beyond a mere passing touch. But more importantly, did it work? Did those that indulged in such displays benefit from it?
"I have seen what you speak of." Careful. But not here - in Ul'dah, in Gridania, in even Garlemald.
Such a mortal gesture. The surge of disgust and fury rises and falls like a briefly passing wave. Up, down and gone.
Had it always been a mortal gesture? He couldn't remember, and memory didn't elude him as often as it did Elidibus. "But you've somehow gotten smaller," the dragon mutters, as if this was in fact done on purpose by Elidibus simply to make things inconvenient, forcing him to move and adjust to the difference, to the outstretched arm. But he didn't have to move too far, he had a reach that exceeded the grasp of talons re-made sharp in the moon's sway, and there is a whisper of feather on fabric as he adjusts just enough to sweep his tail around, the long brassy feathers clamped close, and wrap the arc of crimson around both Elidibus and the ever tempting bean chair and with it, drag both just a touch closer. Enough to reach without reaching.
He knew that tail was a fair bit longer than most dragons had that he's seen, but it had its uses. "Mayhap.."
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Date: 4 Feb 2021 02:18 (UTC)He's.... scooted. Gone from idly wondering what Lahabrea was doing with his tail to finding out firsthand. There's that brief sound of shuuuuuuuuuf and mild crackle that is outer canvas dragging against a floor littered with bits of obsidian chips. At the end of the trip, he reaches back toward the satchel and there's a rustle of the packet of ginger snaps before he draws one out and crunches it. "Hm." Again reaching in, the Emissary takes out another and offers it up to Lahabrea with his free hand. He was told it's polite to bring food and thus, he brought food.
"Your tail is remarkably convenient," Elidibus notes. "How well can it manipulate what it holds?" This.... also really doesn't have a lot to do with cuddles. Though with proximity comes a long, thoughtful look over the real differences in their length. Touch has also opened a door to a deeper sense of the dragon's feelings. It's... a bubbling cauldron. He was given some warning by the earlier surge and lapse in Lahabrea's comprehension. But now it's much... more real. And stirs a sense of concern for the Speaker from his fellow Ascian.
"Perhaps you should be the one to stay still while I overlap?" He already has the ends of the fingers belonging to the clasped hand looking to burrow under the nearest feathers and give an experimental scratching by the scales.
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Date: 4 Feb 2021 02:58 (UTC)As it has been many times before, his relative quiet is deceptive. He's certain had Elidibus not somehow turned up on this planet that this would be another night of lost time and lost memories, and likely the next several days. Would he have ever come out of it? But even if it's a battle he'll inevitably lose, it's one he's used to fighting, and close contact does at the very least make it easier to do.
Acceptance is a long, long way off, and so the storm continues, seething foreign instinct and urges that have nothing at all to do with ascian or hyur impulses. That emptiness that fills Elidibus seems to drain a little bit of it away, tiny bit by tiny bit. Any respite is still a respite.
Though the ginger snap is taken, it's set on one knee instead of eaten. He's not sure that's going to work with the way his molars feel, and any such effort would have to be cautious. So much caution. He was sick of it. No wonder monsters would race to the streets or skies in their desperation to shake off caution and fear. Some distant part of his mind notes that ruffling up under the feathers definitely felt better, even if Elidibus lacked claws. "Whatever you may find most comfortable," is the obviously magnanimous response.
The last time he'd bothered with anything even vaguely similar he'd been wearing Thancred at the time and had begged out of more than one close encounter. Maybe it would be best if he let Elidibus do as he pleased and focused on keeping his head clear. The passivity itself is a bit of a struggle, a tug-of-war between forced acquiescence and the desire to shake him off and chase him out of the cage entirely. To do nothing at all.. a surprising amount of effort.
"Though if only contact is required. Mayhap it will be enough." If he could get his tail to curl the rest of the way in spite of feathers and bone structure beneath, he could in theory wrap Elidibus directly in a fluffy but possibly rather warm boa. But there are limits to his autonomous flexibility, by the way he can't quite get the offending appendage to bend further under his own efforts and will.
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Date: 4 Feb 2021 20:15 (UTC)But not so distracted as to miss feeling like he missed something important. "Be enough? Ah. Yes." Elidibus realizes it may be in reference to the notion he didn't need to do any overlapping at all. Not, there was some key matter he'd failed to observe in the public displays. To him, its use is one of trying to maximize contact needed to strengthen the Bond while also maintaining efficiency in a second task. He isn't naive. He knows mortals see and take more out of these actions than he would. One can argue he might even be aware that their race had once indulged, else wherefore would the discomfort of such displays have arisen between his fellow Unsundered?
But Elidibus had been thinking through the process just now as one would pour over an outline of dance steps as shown in diagrams in a book. Well, at least the realization that Lahabrea may have been speaking of something else seems to have hit him in good time.
Having finally settled, Elidibus ends up with one leg curled underneath him into the bean bag cushion and the other braced shin down against the coil of Lahabrea's tail wrapped around the base of his seat. His head and shoulders would likely settle somewhere against Lahabrea's stomach area. And his hands... Well, one goes about the systematic creep up the Speaker's arm. The other has reached into the satchel (again!!) and pulled out a book which, upon opening, is revealed to be something of a journal. So he has been writing things down after all. The writing in this case is the language very long dead to the world as their race, for that is its origin.
And he certainly hasn't gotten the journal enchanted against deciphering magic, he's just going to need to keep it close until he can suitably enchant it himself. Eorzean script is for a less private journal. This one has secrets. Like observations on dragons. He voices them as he picks up the pen and writes.
"The connection is clearer. Though one may infer this is as much to do with the full moon as it is our current position." Keeping up the journal writing and the scritching seems to pose no problem. The book is suitably wedged in a fold of the chair so it doesn't scoot around under the writing tool. His other hand moves steadily upward. "I can feel what caused the earlier fugue." That roiling creature underneath, though Elidibus doesn't linger overlong on its presence, so as not to draw too much notice to it. He knows Lahabrea is trying so hard. "Please tell me what you feel through me?"
Interest.
Clinical observation.
A hole in which emotions seem to stream without a sign of them ever hitting bottom. They may drain into the Emissary. But they do not seem to find purchase within.
Back then, while the first two might have been a majority when Elidibus studied something, that hole was unlikely to have been there. Instead perhaps a wonder and respect to all the differences of the world. Not which was right or which was wrong. But which was the best to serve all? And how fascinating it all was! To the point he'd often been reminded to go outside once in a while.
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Date: 4 Feb 2021 22:49 (UTC)But time and absence makes it awkward and uncomfortable. Maybe not physically, the weight leaned against him is negligible and hardly full of sharp objects, but it all just seems so ... utterly intimate, so completely opposite of what had been comfortable centuries of habit and pattern. The uncertainty of it keeps instability bubbling up into anything truly concrete, just little sparks of annoyance at every shift and move that inevitably settles itself back down in short order.
It fights two very different sets of behavior, neither of which is overly keen on it - but it is necessary.
And it doesn't feel bad, to feel someone else's breath against his body, the muted pulse of another, or fingers working their way through his feathers. It felt better than solitude, it felt appropriate and right, which meant of course it wasn't, and he should be careful.
"I'm not sure it's the moons." Can he be sure? Not at all. "It's ... distinctly different, now versus a few minutes ago." How was it different? Lahabrea wasn't exactly sure, it wasn't something he could get his teeth around. That it seemed easier in turn seemed like an inexact explanation, and his inability to formulate anything ELSE spiked his annoyance significantly. Language defined thought, and if he couldn't find a word for it, him of all people--
But the seething monster beneath his skin lingers, chewing away at the edges of alert consciousness constantly. It's a little strange, how it's both distinct and utterly the same as Lahabrea, less as if someone had simply dropped a dragon in the back of his mind and more simply added a few elements to reshape what had already been. There's no immediate response to Elidibus' question as to what he feels in return, for this takes stillness and reflection. This takes pushing aside the endless storm of turmoil and trying to find a focus point instead.
His hands itched to continue the work he'd set himself to earlier, simply to continue to direct his thoughts. He leans forward slightly, more flexible than he usually gets to enjoy in a hyur body, blond hair and feathers a pale curtain easily long enough to dangle to the point of touching Elidibus' own dark hair. A not unuseful thing, it traps scent a little better and he was still getting used to adjusted senses. "Very little." The free hand rise, cookie not forgotten but still left where it was on his knee, to gently run a clawtip through that dark hair, not hard enough to even leave a line in its wake. "Not ..."
Frustration again, a quick, hot surge almost felt in skin and breath as much as emotion, a brief temperature spike. Eloquence eludes him, and it shouldn't. "Not a sense of nothingness, as if there were no tug on the other end of a chain. A sense of thought, of consideration and contemplation, of awareness and intelligence, but there is no impression... that you feel." This last is a soft exhalation of heat and faintly minty scent.
"At all. No pain. No fear. No joy or happiness, or rage or sorrow, a presence but little to fill it, an image of a soul and not the passions that motivate one. Like staring at an endless sky through glass, unable to feel the wind or sun, or smell the air."
Touch helped him, redirected the animal that shared his mind whether he wished it or not, but what did it do for a witch? Did they suffer any turmoil? He could pick up nothing that felt like a constant disruption. "Do you feel? Can I make you feel, I wonder."
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Date: 5 Feb 2021 16:37 (UTC)As Lahabrea begins to explain the sensation from his end, Elidibus notes the rise and fall of the Ascian's emotional state. The frequency of the shifts in the dragon's condition gives ample material from which to separate surface emotions from the undercurrent of dragonish 'being' the Speaker fights against. At the same time, recognizing the two as individual forces is... incorrect? The Emissary's brow furrows as he dwells on the matter. Was it perhaps true then, that Lahabrea is fighting against what is fundamentally his own nature?
The spikes in temperature, the struggle with eloquence, these are certainly noticed. And Elidibus skips Lahabrea's shoulder and goes to the neck. It's less thorough and more practiced. He wouldn't ever admit that he's been practicing on the amaro but...
Try to calm, attempt to soothe. See if the distress and spikes of anger are minimized. "Try to relax a little more, now the contact seems to be showing signs of aiding you."
In turn, the small attentions Lahabrea gives in return seem to have a relaxing effect on Elidibus's host, for all finding an emotional response is... well.
The pen stills. There's no tapping on the page or any other thoughtful or agitated gesture. Yet it's the only clear sign that Elidibus is taking heed to Lahabrea's words. No. There's a flutter of something that stirs underneath the lack of feeling but hard to define. He is, after all, keeping himself free of what little emotion he has. But there are some answers he can give.
"There is no room for joy or happiness whilst our God fractured, our peoples' souls scattered," he answers without any sign of remorse. It is, to Elidibus, a matter of fact. "Fear... Perhaps once, a long time ago." Beyond a time he can recall. "Fear is a weapon I refuse to let our enemies use against me. Pain. I am slowly learning what the various discomforts of this mortal form mean." Ah, but is that what Lahabrea means by pain?
Rage and sorrow. He knows those. Elidibus had never looked up until then. Not toward Lahabrea but to some point outside the cage. The Emissary closes his eyes and invokes an image. His variation of the Source. His Warrior of Light and the memory of learning... seeing Emet-Selch's confrontation and fall. It does invoke a low boil of something like rage.
Distant, partially detached. In Lahabrea's analogy, it would be a wind strong enough to rattle the sheet of glass keeping him separate from the experience. But wholly belonging to the Ascian. "I know rage," he offers with quiet intensity. "And I think.. sorrow." The rage doesn't last long. Without the real, physical presence of what he invokes, emotions really don't last long.
But then whether it's Elidibus's own efforts to keep an emotionless state or the touch of the taloned finger brushing along his short hair.
"I would not be against effort on your part to try, Lahabrea," Elidibus has returned to a normal state and continues to write with the pen to catch up on his notes. "It would be beneficial to know. Would you rather I make an effort to resist or simply allow its natural course?"
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Date: 5 Feb 2021 17:41 (UTC)No, the point of this was to allow touch and see what happened, and there was no-one else to see and mock or deride. So it's allowed without protest, and no comment made about it. It feels nice; maybe it was why a dog or a horse or a bandersnatch might lean into a questing hand at their throats, eyes closed in trusting bliss. The mapping of such a feeling to mere animals is ... not comfortable, not something he wants to weigh long.
There are other distractions, than a pleasant touch along skin and feather and scale. "No. There is."
But it's hard to formulate. There's room for joy, for fear, for hope and loss.
Was he even capable of connecting to something other than burning fury, with the dragon so close to the surface, even with the calming presence of a bond and the soothing touch of foreign magic? Instead of answering whether or not Elidibus would be better off resisting or doing nothing, he struggles with the line of thought instead. How? If he couldn't describe it, could he ever do it?
"There's more than stoicism. There's laughter. There's silliness." It's not quite a massage, for that would preclude the sharp tips of claws, but he draws them nonetheless across across Elidibus' scalp in slow spirals as he works on beating the beast down enough to think. "To remember it and live it and breathe it is .. to remember once was something better, something nobler than the misery of the moment. To honor a god shaped by love and hope and the high wild joys of life, and show we have not forgotten ... not in memory of this incident or that time, but in our souls, what it means to shepherd a world. Not just.. the weight of responsibility alone. We are vast, we are great, and we can contain more than just the pain of loss or determination to see a task through." It takes him a while to put it together, bit by bit, with the undercurrent of fury that never ended.
He could remember times where there was happiness. Flashes of better things, more vivid things than the day to day struggle. He could remember the flush of pride and joy in success and not only grim satisfaction. Dredging them up now is hard. It's slow. It's all slow, with gaps and pauses and awkward tones and ire when he can't shape what he wants out of words even with the ongoing efforts to soothe away the lunar rage. "If there is no laughter, then our God's touch is somewhere else. If there is no joy or peace, even in fleeing moments then there is no hope. We become merely the tattered remnants of melancholy people basking in our inability to be people. If we cannot celebrate, how can we truly worship?"
Lahabrea closes his eyes, though whether from the touch against his skin or to measure thoughts or continue to work to lock the scent and sound of Elidibus in his mind so there must not in the future be risk to him from the beast ... it's a mystery. All of them. None of them. "Our God would not be shamed to see us wrench a moment of silliness out of our dark duty, or feel a spark of fear. What is fear but a motivating force? We can't let it control us, of course, but to feel it .. to feel any of it... is a gift."
He found his own joy and happiness, though sometimes it was merely in watching mortals struggle and fail and die, over and over. But still... it's a happiness. "Through our elation, and our misery, we show Lord Zodiark we have not forgotten what it means to live, and that one day soon He too .. will be free to experience more than our vicarious pain." The little circles of clawtips continue, slow and measured. "Stoicism is easier. But it is better to share what we can with Him, isn't it? It's why I won't break such a silly thing as Emet-Selch's bond with that rabbit. A little joy, however fleeting it must be..."
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Date: 5 Feb 2021 22:04 (UTC)But that is completely opposite of the emotion struggling to surface and make its way through the bond. The one that so oft surfaces when struggling through the realization of another lost memory, though most usually hidden behind mask and robe. Confusion. Frustration. If it is this bad now, how much moreso was it in the beginning when he realized what was happening to him?
"I am Elidibus. And it is my duty to remain ever apart, that I might keep the balance between Light and Dark. That I may steer our people to the correct choice." The others got to shepherd the world. He... he was a shepherd to their people, whether that be for or against their actions. He had to remain apart.
The Ascian doesn't look up. But his shoulders have hunched and tension which had been removed by earlier, surprisingly relaxing contact and touch, is returning. His expression would be one likened to distress and struggle. Of someone who repeats a rote message to make sure he remembers he still has his duty... over and over and over again. Those words have that cadence. Of one seeking to still some unrest. It is like a twisted taint upon those old times, where his enthusiasm for work bordered on obsession, but was done with such joy and wonder for the world.
"Memories are so fleeting. Would you ask me to bear their happiness? Their joy of the moment, when they will fade again?" He's said something of the sort to Emet-Selch before. But here, there is something to add. A tap of his free hand to the open journal. "It is enough that I must suffer writing of a matter here." And should he write of some fleeting happiness and forget it? There it would be, stark proof. He is not looking forward to it. "No. I would rather remain true to my office. Therein lies my purpose, even here."
Without his memories, he is only his duty and the will of his people. Without the title of Elidibus, without performing that duty is he then nothing? The fingers still at rest against the side of the dragon's neck dig in a little. It seems the answer to Lahabrea's earlier question is yes. Elidibus can still feel pain in the emotional sense, if not the physical.
And perhaps implied, that he suffers fear, though it does not surface here. He is but a Primal, uncertain whether he can even be considered the true Elidibus. Where would be his place at duty end, but to perhaps, if lucky, return to Zodiark's heart?
And if not, to fade into oblivion.
Elidibus doesn't push Lahabrea's actions away. In a sense, the touch is an anchor he can use. But also a part of him seems to recognize that he's hiding nothing from his fellow Ascian. And maybe underneath it all, there is something soothing he craves about it. If only he had the capacity.
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