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.
Fingers curl carefully, and then Lahabrea raps Elidibus very lightly across the top of the skull with his knuckles. "Enough of that."
He can recognize a spiral in others, at least, an unhealthy obsession - and this particular individual has had a long term issue with unhealthy obsession. It is at least, something to focus on in the absence of his earlier carving, giving him something else to turn his attention to than the lack of anything to turn his attention to. While it's something to feel, some distinct emotion, it's not really helpful ones, is it?
And confusion and frustration simmer alongside his endless wrath, in a cocktail of unpleasantness. "I will remind you the role of Elidibus, as the man who inducted you to that role." How ostentatious, to think anyone might know better than Elidibus himself what that duty was! "To steer mankind and the star upon its most beneficial course. Sometimes standing against us. Sometimes standing with us. But never apart, Emissary. Never apart, for then we would not in our whole be fourteen." A rote message reworded a little over time, it seems, for erroneous impressions have crept in, and Lahabrea allows himself the inklings of fury at it. It needed some small outlet, lest it find something else to latch to. Turn the dragon from fury at anything in its presence to things beyond its reach, beyond its ken. "How can you know the truest course, without being among those you are meant to guide?"
How much of that duty can be performed her? Perishingly little, but that didn't matter.
Silence again for a time, resuming the slow scratch of claws on skin, ignoring the discomfort of pulled feathers. He's torn out plenty himself, what's a few more? "I will remind you, should you forget. Because never have you been expected to bear the happiness of anyone but yourself." Only then does he let go, reaching instead for the gingersnap on his knee, plucking it up between curved ivory talons. "You enjoy these. Should you forget that you do, must we deny you ever consuming another? Nay, tis better to offer it up, and let you experience anew and fresh, the small happiness that is a simple snack." The cookie, meant for him but never eaten, is offered. "One need not a complete memory to experience joy. One needs merely to experience. Yours may be a past incomplete, and a future unwritten, but now ... now is full of many things. A cookie. A book. A chair full of strange things. And if any are experienced as if it is the first time, then that does not detract from the moment. Mayhap it can enhance it, and offer an ever new and refreshing perspective."
He won't go so far as to ever call it a gift. It isn't. It's a terrible burden. "Every time the cookie fades, there is another waiting to be tasted, fresh and pristine. Take it up, that momentary happiness. It matters not if it fades, for there is always another moment, and the thousand that come before it weakens not the thousand that may follow, each fresh and new and wonderful. Mayhap you must forget aught but duty, but to feel, without reservation, is part of that duty, for it binds us all, to each other, to our God, to our very star." And the ginger snap. "Take up your role, Emissary, and linger among us, suffering as we do, laughing as we do. As our God would, if He could."
The rap of knuckles on the top of the head, light though it is, succeeds in shocking Elidibus out of his efforts to bring himself back away from the pain and the looming, empty well that once held what defined him. Not just as Elidibus, but as...
Lahabrea will catch sight of the anguished expression before it shifts to some shocked surprise and finally is followed by a bit of slack and widened eyes. Confusion and... just a touch of recognition.
"You," he breathes. "You were the Convocation Speaker then?" He knows Lahabrea is the Speaker now. But somehow, Elidibus had not considered the notion that those fragmented memories applied to the Lahabrea he now looks upon. "I... I remember. You... you used to chide me. You and... and..." A struggle. No, he doesn't remember. "To go outside ...and then you were gone." Not gone. He had likely gone with them. But Elidibus can't remember what happened next. It's obvious through the Bond and the desperate way his eyes dart from side to side in the moment as if looking for something physical which would tell him what happened next.
The idea that he was no longer truly a part of the Convocation as he stood alone so as to steer them. That was truly a fear. It is true time and necessity when they became a Convocation of Three had somewhat warped that message, especially as they found and ascended sundered pieces of the other Convocation members. When he listens to Lahabrea tell him that the very act of being Elidibus was not to stand apart, Elidibus appears and feels dumbstruck.
And before he can open his mouth to refute... before the cold logic returns to bury the emotion, to center himself back to his purpose of now, not what once was. To once again be a void where Lahabrea's fury can simply drop into and fall, fall, fall, the Speaker has continued. Elidibus has loosened his grip, thankfully pulling only a couple of feathers truly loose, before falling back to his lap, clutching the downy tuft. They aren't inclined to open, so it is with his other hand that he receives the cookie. "I enjoy these?"
It's as if the Emissary never considered that buying them regularly- and yes he most certainly has been seen eating the cookies frequently as they rebuilt the second floor- meant he enjoyed them. Or the bean bag or a book. He speaks up as if to deny this, "It is but a convenience this form finds no discomfort from it."
It really is a weak excuse. Why else buy the same cookie or gravitate to the same chair? He doesn't get it, it's obvious through the Bond that he doesn't. And it's tragic.
He closes his eyes. Thoughts are in turmoil, confusion rests in listening to the Speaker's words and seeing him say such things with so much earnestness. He can't close out the subtle sensation of the claws running through his hair ever so lightly and carefully. Nor can he shut out Lahabrea's presence. Not anymore. And he was not able to control the pace of his heart, which seemed to beat in a quick, squeezing manner for a moment. When his eyes open they are downcast as though he were still in thought. Carefully words are murmured one by one.
"I... did speak before, did I not? That we must put aside some habits of eld and stand together." He knew he would have to make such sacrifice, though it would cost him a part of his duty to do it. But dare he be allowed to believe that Lahabrea is right and it is, rather than abandonment, a return to the proper meaning to his office?
Dare Elidibus truly let himself think for one moment that he should risk the happiness, joys, and sorrows of his fellow Ascians while their God remains broken? Perhaps when they finished their long task, he could rejoin Zodiark's heart, taking with him the carefully saved memories- Lahabrea will surely not fail him, yes- so that He would know His people had found small moments for themselves in the long Darkness.
Perhaps...
At least for now, for a night, Elidibus might choose to believe. He certainly can't weigh the matter in this state. But there is a promise he can make, by bringing the ginger snap to his mouth and biting into it. Taking in the taste that had drawn him to buy the cookies several times now and trying to place it with the idea of enjoyment.
"I... need to consider this carefully. Yet I thank you, Lahabrea."
Edited (heartbeat added. c.cd) Date: 6 Feb 2021 04:30 (UTC)
The funny thing about memory is while Lahabrea doesn't suffer from any particular memory loss, he's lived a long life and pinpointing this or that exact moment can actually take a bit of time. He'd chided Elidibus on many occasions, but with someone else? To go outside? This is weighed for a little bit before he comes to a conclusion. "Yes. And for quite some time." He hadn't gone to his office thinking he would oversee the end of their world. And now of all times, trying to dredge up fragments of moments thousands of years in the past, in a time where there was no desperate need to commit everything to memory..
"..Ah. Igeyorhm. She didn't like your tendency to obsess over your work." Which is an ongoing problem, clearly. But he doesn't recall the exact moment, it hadn't made some great fundamental impression on him at the time. Maybe it was in there somewhere, buried in the recesses of his mind. "I assume this was one of such times. I assure you we did not simply disappear, but it is normal to not remember everything of every moment. What came before, what came after, it fades in all of us if it isn't as important as the part that is recalled. I know she didn't always succeed in dragging you away from your books. Nor could I." Things had been different, once. The nostalgia is bittersweet at best, more bitter than sweet, for Elidibus wasn't the eager youth he once was and Igeyorhm..
It didn't bear thinking about right now, and it's put aside.
How someone could be so detached from anything as to not understand what a preference was beggared belief, and for a little bit this is considered. Even Ifrita knew what she wanted, how she wanted it and how to get it it, and she was a creation through and through. Why would Elidibus not know such a basic, ordinary thing? Even the derivative misshapen echo of Ifrit knew. "Yes. If you choose it instead of other, more practical things, then you prefer it, and thus enjoy it. If it were mere convenience you sought then some nutritious easily carried food would be the preference, not a piece of confectionery."
This was a problem. How long had it been going on?
They both have much to consider, but the thought of it seems to draw a long sigh from the dragon. "It seems I have much to accomplish before this world finishes ruining me," he mutters. "If only to set you back to a true equilibrium before this goes any further. Stay the night. I would see what comes." They did say after all that shared dreams and such could be an issue, and maybe once he knew where all the plentiful gaps were he could begin filling them in.
"Yet I have forgotten the splendor of your creations. Would that not have merited some importance? Would not the actions of Azem?"
Yes, twisted as his recollection was at the time, further thought had unraveled that he'd jumbled memories. There's another page for such things, in that open journal. But more upon that later. The point now is relevant.
And like scabs upon an open wound, the matter is begging to be picked at, for all the pain it gives. "Why not more of my inauguration? And why so much of a brief, inconsequential moment?" He calls it 'so much' when it is naught but a few moments of speech. Elidibus's hands shake from the tension in its body, humming warning of its limits.
Yet Lahabrea disarmed him. With a cookie. Though Elidibus does manage a minor protest and a glance at his satchel. "Of course I have nutritious food Lahabrea, this body cannot live solely upon biscuits. What is the p--" Oh.
Ooooh.
And Igeyorhm, yes. Elidibus had proffered a thoughtful looking nod then at odds with his current confusion. Automatically trying to place the data in its proper context already. Yet even knowing Lahabrea of now was the Speaker then hasn't cemented a clearer image of the memory. Igeyorhm, barely known as a Convocation member to his mind, that much less. But now he knows.
And now, it seems to have merited enough importance that Elidibus swiftly picks up his pen and turns to that page... pages upon the Convocation. Most, just names. Tidbits over the eons regarding the use of their Sundered pieces that he recalls. He writes down the information-- a memory of old, this time-- on Igeyorhm and Lahabrea. The bits about that memory. Of rains ended and a new day to look upon. He doesn't hide what is written and Lahabrea can see. Several pages are used up for matters of the Convocation and their Seats sure. But so little compared to what could be there.
And as expected, almost nothing of Amaurot.
Writing calms him and emotions drain again. Even when stirred, he'd never been able to maintain them for long. Sure they are still uneasily settled for now, but it is clear that it's not just by force of will he keeps himself hollow. The book is closed and it and the writing tool are returned to the satchel. His other hand is finally noticed and lifts, still clutching the feathers. "My apologies. These are yours, I believe." Under his fingers, he can feel the soft hum of their power and potential. After all his is... slightly weakened and a dragon is strong regardless of the time of the month.
More focused, Elidibus can understand what Lahabrea refers to. And perhaps there might be a concession reached. But later. Certainly now is not the time, especially as the dragon speaks about staying to sleep. To see what comes?
"Hm. Would you have us stay like this?" the Ascian asks. Certainly, contact would be most like to curry the transfer of dreams across the Bond. "Or shall I settle elsewhere while you continue work?" Briefly, Elidibus's eyes stray up to the obsidian block. And it's a reasonable question. He hardly expects Lahabrea or himself to remain in contact the entire night. Though Elidibus doesn't seem to find it in him to move right now, either.
"I have forgotten some of my creations." Countless projects throughout his education, some failed, some not. Dabbling here or there. He remembered many, all the ones that were important to him, but the rest? "What is important to one is not what is important to another. That you recall this or that, over some other thing, means at one time it was more meaningful. I can't tell you why, for it is subjective." He returns gradually, to the light scratch of claws on skin, partly to give himself something to do, partly to see if it helps with the turmoil he could feel even in just a heartbeat against his stomach. Was all of it nonsense? Maybe. He didn't actually know why Elidibus might remember some tiny part of a conversation he himself didn't, but it must have meant something to the Emissary at some point.
Lahabrea could pry about the book, but he doesn't. What its purpose was he could take guesses at, it wasn't quite the writing down he had meant but maybe it would so some good. Or at least, leave some sort of record for the future.
There was nothing to focus his indignation on over any of it; his own situation, the trouble Elidibus endured. The only one who seemed to be coming out of any of this content was the missing third, and he ... well, it might not even be his doing but the manipulations of others.
It's too much to think about when thought itself was an effort, and the last few minutes took considerable tenacity to manage. It was easier, preferable even, to stew in his own irritation than any thoughts that might accompany such annoyance. Blank frustration and fury. "I can't well put them back." Those were definitely his feathers, and he was going to have a small gap in his plumage now. It would grow back eventually. "There are some who will pay well for such things. Keep it." Or sell it, as the implication goes, there's not much Lahabrea can do with it now.
Later would tend to later, and though he did indeed itch to return to some kind of work, doing nothing somehow deeply antithetical, but if he moved it would force Elidibus to do likewise, and for the moment, with the trouble he's already having, that seemed.. a little rude. So he remains where he is, even though it was an annoyance.. but everything, everything was an annoyance, including going back to work so he chooses the one that is at least comfortable. "There's no reason to move unless one grows cramped or some such," is the eventual reply. "Mayhap the days and nights will pass more quickly if I am simply not conscious to experience them."
There's another book for that. This seems a collection of personal notations, with a dissertation on the memories of an Eighth Umbral Calamity completely missing. No doubt it can be asked after another time. Elidibus fetches the water out again, now room temperature at least and a drink is taken. Due consideration is given between the gift of feathers and the water. He does suffer a fleeting thought that his limited abilities with magic could cool it down. But wouldn't that be a waste? A square of cloth is pulled out and the feathers wrapped carefully away to be tucked safely back into the satchel along with the bottle of water.
And yes, though Elidibus might not admit it and it may not be discernable through the general cycle of calming down, the touch of his Bondmate has help eased the pace of his heart.
And made the Emissary willing to speak in the first place, of such private matters as his fears.
Speaking about the matter of what to do about sleeping, Elidibus is suddenly conscious that there is no real discomfort in their position. It's only a little awkward now that he's thinking about how much in contact he is with his fellow Ascian. But somehow this dratted mortal host had reacted on its own again to shift into the most comfortable position. As if the accursed bean bag chair wasn't bad enough. Elidibus sighs.
"No, it seems there is not any reason. Though it may prove a bit uncomfortable later... Hm. Desist with your talons for a moment, if you will."
The matter was given a moment's reflection and the 'why later' is easily answered. Sitting up just enough, Elidibus begins to remove the sleeveless turtleneck to leave his torso bare. Yes, the matter of Lahabrea's body temperature has been a bit troublesome, though the shirt itself is not going far. Some sort of barrier has to be used as a mat between the constant temperature spikes and bare hyur flesh.
There. Settling back down, the Ascian cranes his head so he can look up at Lahabrea. "I would recommend against using alcohol as a vector." Let's just say by this time he's had a recent... experience on such matters.
Lahabrea does pause when bidden, though there's a brief thump of tailtip against the floor to suggest he's not particularly pleased about it. No actual protest, which might be recognition that his ongoing annoyance has nothing to do with Elidibus at all. Restraint.. continues. Must continue.
Anywhere else this certainly would be scandalous now, with both of them now shirtless, maskless, and otherwise comfortably somewhat entangled, and he's acutely aware of it. But nobody else is here. And Elidibus couldn't well mock him for it when he himself was participating in it. Was there a word for a shame one indulged in anyway? If there is, it eludes him for now, though he sets his mind to puzzling after it anyway. A guilty pleasure, perhaps. There was a part of him, one he wasn't entirely sure was the dragon, that was perfectly content to enjoy any kind of physical contact at all.
"Stars, no." Alcohol! "..When have you ever tried to use alcohol to sedate yourself?" He turns a scrutinizing gaze downwards, frowning faintly. Would he have recognized it if Elidibus went and got himself drunk? Probably not. Would he have done anything about it had he known?
If Lahabrea didn't return to running talons through Elidibus's hair once he had resettled, well.
"...If you wish to continue, I will not object."
He'd heard that thump of a tail. Also, something seemed oddly missing when it stopped.
The Ascian isn't remiss in offering his own return to the efforts of finding good places to scritch. But this time it's without a methodical search. He finds a place easy to reach. Probably somewhere around the ribs, letting his fingers burrow to scratch along the scales underneath.
"Of course I haven't used alcohol to sedate myself," Elidibus answers. Perhaps with a bit of reproach. He's none so foolish. Not... intentionally. The Emissary looks up to meet Lahabrea's gaze. Perish the thought! "A recent... investigation may not have exactly as I intended." Ah yes. And that admittance is accompanied by a slight sense of discomfort through the Bond.
Lahabrea knows there's better spots than simply this, but with sharp claws that was going to be difficult to see to, and so he resumes as bidden, still careful to not actually cause any harm. A stronger bond would benefit Elidibus' grip on this world's magic, that was worthwhile enough. These other troubles, the memory gaps far deeper and broader than first imagined, the emptiness instead of vibrant but hidden emotion... they would have to wait.
He could wonder at them but could not yet devise any way of doing anything about it.
Was it something worth venturing to bring up to Emet-Selch? Could he even care, as he was, about this uncomfortable discovery?
The faint flicker of what might be embarrassment draws a slow furrow of brows. "Speak plainly. What have you been up to?" With Elidibus' general and alarming ignorance for all things obvious, that left a whole lot of possibilities, some of which are starkly alarming and potentially extremely dangerous.
It's not as if Elidibus hadn't been aware of the effects of alcohol. And his host would certainly have had some tolerance and he would have been certain to restore the body to its peak performance. But while he likely had some food, he didn't really get its purpose in curtailing the speed at which inebriation would happen. Or its after-effects.
And he was maintaining a moderate pace. It's just that pace car was an Irishman.
Elidibus clearly doesn't want to clarify further. Especially as Lahabrea's inquiry is very broad. He duly considers asking for more specificity to muster up the necessary choice on what to say. And then the Emissary concludes that it was probably not very wise to test Lahabrea's patience on the full moon. He does sigh a bit.
"I was speaking to a Mirrorbound I arranged a meeting with. He professed a willingness to speak on the kidnapping of Mirrorbound which happened last year-- though not related to the current kidnappings performed by the Evergreen Circle. As he proclaimed he would require a round of ale to speak of matters I wished to discern, it seemed fitting that I too indulge."
Reasonable so far.
"While I had taken some time to study how one conducts themselves in such environs, it seems I misunderstood some of the intricacies which mortals use." Elidibus doesn't seem embarrassed anymore, but probably because being precise is... familiar. Though he pauses and frowns in thought to recollect more of the specifics. "Did you know their habit of eating copious amounts of bite-sized, overly salted food was in fact to negate some of the worst symptoms of inebriation? I had thought it some manner of a ploy on the part of the establishment's owners to encourage patrons to buy more drinks."
Well, he's correct on that count. He just missed the first bit.
Elidibus seems intrigued by it. Not that one would be able to see it in his expression, but there is something akin to interest which briefly sparks across the Bond.
Somehow he had expected something rather more severe than that, by the way Elidibus was mincing his words. Like drunken benders, snorting mysterious substances off of doe-eyed au ra girls. Maybe things weren't quite so dire as Thancred's adventures have led him to believe.
"It is." He sounds a little puzzled at the idea that salty snacks might in any way help do anything but increase thirst. That's just not how it worked, a pretzel didn't have enough nutrients in it to do anything worthwhile. "If the tavern owner wished to slow inebriation, he'd water his drinks instead. Salt merely encourages it."
How ridiculous!
Of course, if such a tale is sown, then it would encourage patrons to eat, and then drink more, so it's likely one of those ongoing deceptions that people assume are true simply because everyone says it is. "How long did it take for you to reach a state of impairment?"
A more concerned person might suggest Elidibus not touch alcohol ever again. Lahabrea isn't one of these people. Obviously Elidibus survived the experience, and his only actual warnings are to the deceptive practices of certain barkeeps. So bland is his reaction in fact that it might be tacit approval - no flare of sharp irritation or anger, aside from the baseline ongoing trouble.
One must remember this is Elidibus. The misjudgment itself was something of an embarrassment. Every time he feels reasonably secure in the mortal host, something else happens.
"I doubt the man I was speaking with would have recommended a place where the owner was known for the practice of watering down his drinks," Elidibus answers dryly. That much he could pick up, even if it hadn't been said in so many words.
But how much had he been able to take in before he'd been impaired? This is a good question and one which the Ascian takes a few moments to reflect on. "I am unsure," is offered after a moment. "While my mind seemed to possess some clarity, this host's movements were difficult to control when I first stood." This much he is certain of. "Perhaps... four or five servings of ale?" Serving being relative. Whether he had anything else other than drink was also relative. "Hm. There were more, but I seem to be having trouble recollecting a precise accounting." Which he seems to find a little annoying. Recent memories don't fade as quickly. But especially since he came to this world, his recollection of details has been especially sharp. "I did not expect the impact to be so severe."
Yes, Elidibus did think he could willpower through alcohol. At least the lesson's learned. It certainly won't stop him, but he'll be more cautious.
"Therefore he's interested in selling more drink, not offering sobriety cures. Tis the impairment of judgment that is most vital." As Elidibus has discovered, drinking over his limit and apparently suffering for it!
But there's no real reproach, some lessons need to be learned in person and not simply told. Especially in the case of the Emissary, who might summarily choose to abstain entirely and miss out on plenty of interesting drinks simply to avoid a risk. "After a point it does blur together," he says, as if working through memories not his own. Which is precisely what he's doing in fact, he didn't retain overmuch from his time as Thancred, but the bits he retained were useful in their way. "Some mortals consider it a high point of socialization, if you're willing to drink to the point of not remembering. You may have ingratiated yourself to this individual by doing so."
Maybe encouragement, maybe not, it's hard to tell. Lahabrea's not elaborating further, if only because the details elude him; instead he settles in place a bit more comfortably, shifting this way and that in such a fashion that Elidibus might get jostled a bit before returning to something like stillness.
It's enough for now. It did answer his question, it did mean Elidibus has found another potential source of information and who knows what else, and Lahabrea wasn't going to interfere. Endless ignorance of even the obvious aside, Elidibus could handle himself quite well, and there was no need to worry over-much about most of what this city could bring to bear. Most of it could be handled quite well with a sudden axe to the face.
For all intents and purposes it doesn't seem like Lahabrea intends to add anything else.
Sobriety cures will be researched. On that account, Elidibus will likely take time to make sure what he's told is proven. And he's intelligent enough to recognize 'drinking more booze is a cure for the after-effects of booze'. "Time will tell. I remember nothing unfavorable about our conversation." ...One hopes there was nothing unfavorable forgotten. Indeed, time will tell.
The advice, such as is offered is accepted with a nod. Getting an understanding of how various drinks effects sobriety is definitely on the list. There's a bottle of gin and one of honey mead waiting for such experiments upstairs. The third bottle is not for his personal consumption, of course.
It's easy to let the conversation end there, though the Emissary frowns a little bit as he's jostled. A matter he might not have been aware of being annoyed about because as soon as Lahabrea is obviously not getting up, the Ascian's expression clears.
So they fall into silence. It's not as awkward as one might think; simply a period where one doesn't feel the need to talk. After a while, Elidibus's hand stops scratching along Lahabrea's side. He settles against Lahabrea, though he half suspects the host body's idiosyncrasies are at work rather than his own intent. "I am going to sleep now." His arms are crossed over his stomach. And with the dragon Lahabrea still in contact, it comes with an odd sense of security. Well, he isn't very familiar with that either, so it'll be up to the Speaker to pick up on that through the Bond before it gets buried.
"...I wish to speak to you again. If you will avoid sleeping through the entirety of the next few...suns." Decades or centuries are words more customary to the slumbers he's seen his fellow Ascian go through. Especially Emet-Selch. A few days is such a silly thing to be stressed over. "...I would appreciate it." So please, no drugs.
Without further conversation, or questions, the body's needs will take over and he'll eventually drift off to slumber. But there may be much that happens between now and the dawn of morning. A dragon in the full moon. The matter of pants. And of course the chance of dreams.
There's nothing terrible about silence and stillness save Lahabrea favors neither and had little to focus himself upon beyond the moons' inevitable weight upon his actions and interests. It leaves a constant undercurrent, more tangible with the constant steady contact, to the quiet. Soothed somewhat, but not entirely by the presence of another at least; whether or not the bars were useful - and the seed of doubt planted as to whether they would hold or not, rendering that sanctuary of certainty utterly useless and setting up for problems in the future perhaps - they at least allowed for a smaller, more closed off space.
Intimate, even if disturbing in its way.
"I don't have the means to render myself unconscious for that long," is the reluctant response. "Else I would use it." He would, whether or not Elidibus wanted to talk. It would not calm the storm but it would render it utterly ignorable, and that was as far as he was concerned, a perfect ideal. The risk remained, for all that it was for the moment dampened a bit even without the soothing rub of fingertips on scale; what might get said or done that would spike smoldering fury into blind wrath and lead him to lash out with terrible consequences?
The thought sat uncomfortably alongside the vague sense of security that bled through their bond. He could so easily betray that trust, without ever intending to.
But he'll still be there when Elidibus wakes. If he himself dozes off at any point it's not really easy to tell, but in the passage of hour upon hour in quiet and warmth, the Emissary remains for the most part undisturbed and unawoken.
Save perhaps a silent monitoring of temperature, and if the room grows too hot for what Lahabrea knows mortals tolerate easily, do something about that without actually untangling enough to get up ... and maybe the tinge of red to dreams that might otherwise not be there, like fires on the distant horizon.
Dreams, Elidibus has learned, come with mortal slumber. And for the most part, he has ignored them as nonsensical images. Mostly. Of course, there were a few things ingrained deep within his soul that would never be forgotten. Fire in the distance.
And a rain of fire in the sky.
As the Emissary drifts off to sleep, some hope might be found. The emotionless nature remains strong, but there is a sense that some of it is of conscious making. Some of it refusal to fall prey to emotions, this is true. But also a fight not to fall into the void and simply become nothing. Not just for the sake of everyone else, but also his own.
Is it any surprise a sense of heat and distant fire would give rise to memories of the Final Days in his dreams? Though perhaps the fleeting glimpse of watching a twisted mix of Aefenglom and a distant twist of Amaurotine towers. The rain of fire a distant scene. Elidibus turns to say something to... is that a dragon?
But the dream shifts before anything is head. Still, it might have been somewhat familiar.
Elidibus at peace with himself, surrendering to the aether fed to him, reshaping his existence into a vessel... a heart.
But deep within the amethyst void, awareness. Prayers cried out. Voices of thousands unceasing. Risen not in pleasant debate but fearful argument. They called and he answered.
It's out of order, but also the fragmented memory of the Convocation Speaker and another member, speaking to him about his dedication to duty. Still barely recognized, though Lahabrea's mask now replaces a featureless red and in that dream, Elidibus seems on the cusp of almost knowing who they were.
Yet they withdraw and vanish as he reaches out to them yet again.
Precious little of this is dreams, though undoubtedly Elidibus would call it such if asked. These instead are nightmares.
In the passage of the first several hours of the night, his host body does stir, does sweat. His mind drifts between the state of dreaming and deeper slumber, but never at rest. And not just because there is too much heat.
There is nothing deliberate in an effort to share a dream, or experience it, or see if it might be influenced. While admittedly Lahabrea is curious, too concerned is he that he might poison any potential dreams that might come with the dragon's eternal, endless ferocity and wrath. Terrible enough that he had to endure it, to inflict it on another ... especially one so rare in his own emotions that it might not be recognized as an external source?
No.
He couldn't allow it. He could't let the beast drag them both down.
But over the passage of time, Lahabrea too grows tired. In spite of his firm alliance with Zodiark he was ever a creature of diurnal habits, and staying awake all night every night was beyond him. The dragon weighs on it, for it too prefers the daylight to the night, and only once he's certain Elidibus isn't about to sweat him into soddenness with feathery absorption does he allow his awareness to fade. In time it means moving again, a slow and unwaking shift until he has the rather smaller Ascian thoroughly wrapped in arms and tail; where there cold to be had, it wouldn't reach there, in a shroud of crimson and gold.
And in dreams, a spark of fire of a different hue weaves across the burning distant horizon. It's there, again and again.
A flash of feathers and streaming fiery tail as meteors crawl inevitably groundward, bright and shining and as far away as those meteors themselves. The glass and steel of mixed Amaurotine and Aefenglom construction reflect no meteorfall, but that distant burning spot does.
It's easy to miss. There's so much else going on.
But it's there. It's always there, when it shouldn't be, a faraway gleam within a shroud of darkness, one more voice rising in the chorus of fear and horror and confusion. A forgotten melody, high and wild and full of an elation so intense it is pain; it doesn't belong here.
It belongs here. It's always been there. Hadn't it?
Hadn't it?
There's a sound, as Elidibus reaches towards futile disappearing forms. If a hearthfire had a song, if flame could soothe, gentle what it touches, if the merry crackle of a bonfire on a cool autumn night had music of its own, then it would be that sound. It doesn't drown out the darkness, it never could. But what it can do is seed the dark with a million pinpoints of burning light shaken off its wings in showers of sparks.
"The song too heals, like its magic. If it is allowed to. It cannot live in an unwilling heart."
In the distance, a spark dances - flaming wings and burning tail and an eye as bright as the dawn, not ... quite the shape of a dragon. A bird, only a bird, though at most one of its kind ever in existence at any given moment, and its claws shape the distant stars into recognizable formations, one by one.
It's a strange night. One of warmth and dreams, nightmares and heat.
At the dreams begin to cross into a realm which by any right could be deemed 'nightmare', there are... stars.
They do not fall in a rain of flame and terror. The sparks instead are lifted on wings (not a dragon, but feathers, heat... song) and shaped into stars. Countless symbols of hope. Then those stars are themselves shaped, the beginning of tales long forgott--
To say Elidibus is a little surprised when he awakens may be an understatement. There is intense confusion and some discomfort as the Ascian becomes aware that it is not wrapped in a blanket in an over-warm room. This is another living individual. Complete with a heartbeat, the steady rise and fall from breathing, and the tactile sensation of feathers and scale against hyur flesh.
Much more than he remembers baring last night. It appears in the interests of comfort, but his own and the dragon's concern for sweat-soaked feathers, Elidibus has been divested of pants. Only smallclothes remain. He takes a while to reflect on his condition and what he.... 'feels' about it. Oh, the near-nudity is not what bothers the Emissary. It's certainly not about 'sexual' intimacy that could be construed from the circumstances. Such matters just do not register.
Elidibus wonders if this would have been how he awakened on a night where the full moon hadn't been affecting Lahabrea's behaviors. Or more to the point, will this be what he needs to expect in the future? The Ascian gazes at the top of the steel cage. Tonight may have been a risk, but it was not without results.
And ah yes. Dragging himself- somewhat reluctantly- back to the thought of how he feels. A dim memory of song tugs at his mind. Something from his dreams? It's too new and the content, both good and bad, somewhat ephemeral as it is. The Ascian isn't too fond of dreaming, yet. It's like an even more confusing array of fragmented memories into which errors accrue. It's just as well they mostly fade when he wakes up.
Then there's this virtually unfettered tangle of bodies to weigh. Elidibus can't say he feels like a victim of circumstance. Here and there he obviously tried to make himself more comfortable. Legs tried to escape and get a bit cooler air, only to end up wrapped around (or wrapped back up) by tail and... Lahabrea's legs.
There are a few places where the Ascian can probably work his way free. An arm, for instance. Part of his leg. Another leg.. tug... hmm. It seems other bits are going to be difficult without tugging and threatening to disturb Lahabrea and Elidibus is not sure what frame of mind his Bonded is going to wake in. So finally, he offers in a bland voice.
"Lahabrea. Are you awake?"
If the dragon is awake, he might notice the small trace of tears upon the Emissary's face before they are completely dry. Elidibus does not seem aware. Perhaps he thought it nothing more than a trace of sweat brought on by the room and his sleeping partner.
The other very much is not; sleep is not something Lahabrea welcomes, it interrupts endless work that needed to be done, and being comfortable enough with his surroundings to bother was rarer yet, but there was something strangely comforting about having someone else there. Maybe he'd been taking the wrong track these past millennia, and should have sought company earlier. A strange and unexpected balm, comfort where none was really expected ... surely the result of a bond and not some neglected need for company he's been ignoring all this time.
Were they any others but themselves, stripping Elidibus of most of what remained of his clothing would certainly have been a lead-in to things guaranteed to cause even more sweat and heat - but neither are inclined, and such a thing was practicality only.
Besides, he kept it hot enough in this house where clothing was for decency alone, not necessity.
As soon as Elidibus so much as twitches, there's a brief change in warm breath before it steadies again, but now the dragon's awake. He's not moving, but he's absolutely awake, and as the Emissary tugs and pulls a little bit in a vague attempt to free himself, Lahabrea is quietly utterly uncooperative.
It's thoroughly inappropriate, he supposes, but isn't that what other bonds do? Inconvenience each other in a constant parade of small petty and mostly harmless ways?
"Mm." He's awake. Mostly, anyway, that undercurrent of endless wrath hasn't stirred itself back up yet, though it surely inevitably would. Another day.. or two ... and that might become easier to contend with, to bury, but for now ... there's being a mild inconvenience in keeping Elidibus a little tangled up.
There is the scent of tears alongside the smell of sweat. What dreams had plagued, to cause such a thing? He didn't remember. "You stink." It's quiet, barely more than a murmur.
No he doesn't. And who's fault would it be if he did, anyway? Elidibus isn't the living furnace here.
Not at first. They're tangled up pretty tightly, after all and it stands to reason that being careful about extrication does mean some resistance. Still, puzzling out limbs shouldn't be taking this long and it seems every time the Ascian makes progress, there's another metaphorical knot to work loose.
So he relaxes and calls out to see if Lahabrea is 'awake'. Letting sleeping dragons lie (about being asleep) need not continue. The moment a vaguely affirmative 'mm' is offered, blue eyes are turned upward to find Lahabrea's face.
There is also a faint sniff of the air. Well, a hyur's nose isn't going to be too fine about it, but there's the smell of sweat that's undoubtedly not the dragon, among whatever dragon smells come from feathers, scales, and heat. And without much judgment, Elidibus answers, "Indeed. I will be glad to master magicks which will minimize the work it takes to keep it clean." It'll be too late by then. He'll be addicted to the concept of a hot bath or shower. "Of course you realize I could have attended to the matter some minutes ago, had you not seen fit to complicate matters?"
Without much judgment. And despite something that's almost like dry humor and an answer about the condition of his body that was too pragmatic, Elidibus doesn't seem too put out.
"...May I inquire as to the location of my trousers?"
It is well known that Lahabrea doesn't in fact possess a sense of humor that he'll admit to, nor that he actually enjoys anything but the suffering of others, so clearly none of that can be happening. There is nothing of gentleness in the Abyssal Celebrant, so anything like it must be an illusion, some deceit for some unknown purpose.
But he continues to quietly make a nuisance of himself, the dimmest, barest flickers of amusement crossing their bond. It's too easy to do with the size difference between them and having an entire extra limb up on Elidibus. In this strange liminal moment, it might be easy to forget there had been bloodthirsty fury, or hunger or the edges of moon-madness. Certainly it can't last, it wouldn't last, and very likely no-one else would be allowed such an indignity as Lahabrea idly working on keeping them entangled with the subtlest of little motions.
It's a good thing he doesn't have his wings yet, else he'd use those too. "Of course, of course." He still hasn't raised his voice. There were bathing opportunities to be had upstairs! And hot running water to go with it, because it's about the only sort he can even tolerate, and then it's the smell of wet feathers for HOURS but Elidibus wo't have that problem.
"....Mmm.. over there somewhere." There's a nebulous gesture with one hand, and with it the barest openings of escape. Honestly he hadn't paid much attention, they were in the way and causing more sweat and it wasn't necessary besides. How utterly scandalous this would be in another situation.. "Do you remember your dreams? I smell salt." Tears.
It is not from a sense of humor surely. yet as it is not denied that Lahabrea had been obstructing Elidibus as was suggested, this must mean he's being true to his enjoyment of others' suffering. Right?
But Lahabrea would know there isn't much frustration rising in Elidibus. Lots of patience and reasoned debate, but suffering isn't there. Would that not mean this might, however unlikely, mean that between enjoyment of suffering and actual amusement, the emotion fleetingly felt with the Bond is, in fact, the hallmarks of a sense of humor?
An opening or a trap? Elidibus will seek to use the opportunity to sit up. There is some success, perhaps. After all, he's only testing a bit but not actually seeking to surge out of Lahabrea's hold.
"Why are you asking about... ah, yes. The Bond." Elidibus would have begun to ponder whether he remembers any of the images which might have crossed over the Bond from Lahabrea. It didn't occur to him at first that Lahabrea meant his own dreams.
But then, the word 'salt' really strikes home. A reference that Elidibus does not take long to puzzle, by the way he raises a hand to brush a few fingers near his eyes. The tears are dry but there's still a trace to feel and... marvel over? It's absolutely certain now that he'd not been aware. "What is this?"
Elidibus knows what tears are. This is not what he's asking, almost to himself as though he momentarily forgot Lahabrea's presence. Forgot to mimic his own tones and thus asked the rhetoric with Ardbert's natural voice. His jaw snaps shut moments later which suggests he realizes the brief loss of control. When he speaks again, Elidibus has collected himself.
"Fragments. They were... nonsensical as ever," he murmurs absently and almost indifferent. But however reluctant the answer is given, it is indeed an answer that doesn't quite dismiss the matter.
Zodiark was a dragon. Flames on the horizon were... hope? And mix this with the usual, waking nightmare of fruitlessly chasing what little recollection of Amaurot he still has. Prayers reaching out, gripping and molding him until he could no longer recognize himself--
"I can't remember anything which would cause this." For a second there is an acrid sting of bitterness across the Bond. And then defenses are rising. "These 'tears' are more like to be yet another physical response of this host I can no longer control."
It's a fancy way of saying he must have dust in his eyes. Elidibus isn't fooling anyone in the room with it. But he will try to end the conversation by continuing to wend his way out of the nest of dragon and bean bag. There's plenty of excuses to do so. Find trousers. Get out of the cage. Take a bath. Wash away any proof that tears were ever-present. He's about to set his feet down on the floor of the cage.
Bare feet. And he seems to have forgotten about the shards of obsidian scattered around.
Entertainment pursued too long turns fun into annoyance easily, and Lahabrea relents before it gets that far. There's still a level of not-quite-comfort; he knows how bonds are supposed to work, and what is accepted as normal behavior between bonded, but even though the line has already been crossed into what will certainly later strike him as peculiar and uncomfortable, letting Elidibus go also means an allowance for a bit more distance.
What's this?
"Something must have been distressing, recalled or not." He knows not what though, and can't begin to guess. Though he knows he dreams every time he sleeps, those dreams inevitably fade to nothingness by the time he wakes, leaving him with no images in their passing.
Dreams weren't supposed to be sensible. "It's rare for anyone to remember their dreams, past the very moment of waking, which is why I asked now and not later. They fade for all, like fog beneath the sun. In another few bells, if there's anything left at all to recall, it would be unusual." Reassurance, of a sort, to that surge of bitterness. This ... this isn't Elidibus' broken relation to the world and everything in it including himself, it's merely how things were.
They weren't meant to last. That was the point of dreams. A brief exercise in imagination and emotion as a mind struggles with its daily life. A biological necessity. But not a lingering one.
Escaping, for the moment, isn't difficult, though there is a sudden movement from the dragon as Elidibus attempts to stand to quite abruptly grab Elidibus and heft him right off the floor, setting him instead to one quarter-turn to the side in a little flash of irritation. He remembers the shards, and that work he'd been up to, surely Elidibus could damn well remember it too, it wasn't centuries ago.. "Watch your step."
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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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Date: 5 Feb 2021 22:39 (UTC)He can recognize a spiral in others, at least, an unhealthy obsession - and this particular individual has had a long term issue with unhealthy obsession. It is at least, something to focus on in the absence of his earlier carving, giving him something else to turn his attention to than the lack of anything to turn his attention to. While it's something to feel, some distinct emotion, it's not really helpful ones, is it?
And confusion and frustration simmer alongside his endless wrath, in a cocktail of unpleasantness. "I will remind you the role of Elidibus, as the man who inducted you to that role." How ostentatious, to think anyone might know better than Elidibus himself what that duty was! "To steer mankind and the star upon its most beneficial course. Sometimes standing against us. Sometimes standing with us. But never apart, Emissary. Never apart, for then we would not in our whole be fourteen." A rote message reworded a little over time, it seems, for erroneous impressions have crept in, and Lahabrea allows himself the inklings of fury at it. It needed some small outlet, lest it find something else to latch to. Turn the dragon from fury at anything in its presence to things beyond its reach, beyond its ken. "How can you know the truest course, without being among those you are meant to guide?"
How much of that duty can be performed her? Perishingly little, but that didn't matter.
Silence again for a time, resuming the slow scratch of claws on skin, ignoring the discomfort of pulled feathers. He's torn out plenty himself, what's a few more? "I will remind you, should you forget. Because never have you been expected to bear the happiness of anyone but yourself." Only then does he let go, reaching instead for the gingersnap on his knee, plucking it up between curved ivory talons. "You enjoy these. Should you forget that you do, must we deny you ever consuming another? Nay, tis better to offer it up, and let you experience anew and fresh, the small happiness that is a simple snack." The cookie, meant for him but never eaten, is offered. "One need not a complete memory to experience joy. One needs merely to experience. Yours may be a past incomplete, and a future unwritten, but now ... now is full of many things. A cookie. A book. A chair full of strange things. And if any are experienced as if it is the first time, then that does not detract from the moment. Mayhap it can enhance it, and offer an ever new and refreshing perspective."
He won't go so far as to ever call it a gift. It isn't. It's a terrible burden. "Every time the cookie fades, there is another waiting to be tasted, fresh and pristine. Take it up, that momentary happiness. It matters not if it fades, for there is always another moment, and the thousand that come before it weakens not the thousand that may follow, each fresh and new and wonderful. Mayhap you must forget aught but duty, but to feel, without reservation, is part of that duty, for it binds us all, to each other, to our God, to our very star." And the ginger snap. "Take up your role, Emissary, and linger among us, suffering as we do, laughing as we do. As our God would, if He could."
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Date: 6 Feb 2021 04:27 (UTC)Lahabrea will catch sight of the anguished expression before it shifts to some shocked surprise and finally is followed by a bit of slack and widened eyes. Confusion and... just a touch of recognition.
"You," he breathes. "You were the Convocation Speaker then?" He knows Lahabrea is the Speaker now. But somehow, Elidibus had not considered the notion that those fragmented memories applied to the Lahabrea he now looks upon. "I... I remember. You... you used to chide me. You and... and..." A struggle. No, he doesn't remember. "To go outside ...and then you were gone." Not gone. He had likely gone with them. But Elidibus can't remember what happened next. It's obvious through the Bond and the desperate way his eyes dart from side to side in the moment as if looking for something physical which would tell him what happened next.
The idea that he was no longer truly a part of the Convocation as he stood alone so as to steer them. That was truly a fear. It is true time and necessity when they became a Convocation of Three had somewhat warped that message, especially as they found and ascended sundered pieces of the other Convocation members. When he listens to Lahabrea tell him that the very act of being Elidibus was not to stand apart, Elidibus appears and feels dumbstruck.
And before he can open his mouth to refute... before the cold logic returns
to bury the emotion, to center himself back to his purpose of now, not what once was. To once again be a void where Lahabrea's fury can simply drop into and fall, fall, fall, the Speaker has continued. Elidibus has loosened his grip, thankfully pulling only a couple of feathers truly loose, before falling back to his lap, clutching the downy tuft. They aren't inclined to open, so it is with his other hand that he receives the cookie. "I enjoy these?"It's as if the Emissary never considered that buying them regularly- and yes he most certainly has been seen eating the cookies frequently as they rebuilt the second floor- meant he enjoyed them. Or the bean bag or a book. He speaks up as if to deny this, "It is but a convenience this form finds no discomfort from it."
It really is a weak excuse. Why else buy the same cookie or gravitate to the same chair? He doesn't get it, it's obvious through the Bond that he doesn't. And it's tragic.
He closes his eyes. Thoughts are in turmoil, confusion rests in listening to the Speaker's words and seeing him say such things with so much earnestness. He can't close out the subtle sensation of the claws running through his hair ever so lightly and carefully. Nor can he shut out Lahabrea's presence. Not anymore. And he was not able to control the pace of his heart, which seemed to beat in a quick, squeezing manner for a moment. When his eyes open they are downcast as though he were still in thought. Carefully words are murmured one by one.
"I... did speak before, did I not? That we must put aside some habits of eld and stand together." He knew he would have to make such sacrifice, though it would cost him a part of his duty to do it. But dare he be allowed to believe that Lahabrea is right and it is, rather than abandonment, a return to the proper meaning to his office?
Dare Elidibus truly let himself think for one moment that he should risk the happiness, joys, and sorrows of his fellow Ascians while their God remains broken? Perhaps when they finished their long task, he could rejoin Zodiark's heart, taking with him the carefully saved memories- Lahabrea will surely not fail him, yes- so that He would know His people had found small moments for themselves in the long Darkness.
Perhaps...
At least for now, for a night, Elidibus might choose to believe. He certainly can't weigh the matter in this state. But there is a promise he can make, by bringing the ginger snap to his mouth and biting into it. Taking in the taste that had drawn him to buy the cookies several times now and trying to place it with the idea of enjoyment.
"I... need to consider this carefully. Yet I thank you, Lahabrea."
no subject
Date: 6 Feb 2021 17:18 (UTC)"..Ah. Igeyorhm. She didn't like your tendency to obsess over your work." Which is an ongoing problem, clearly. But he doesn't recall the exact moment, it hadn't made some great fundamental impression on him at the time. Maybe it was in there somewhere, buried in the recesses of his mind. "I assume this was one of such times. I assure you we did not simply disappear, but it is normal to not remember everything of every moment. What came before, what came after, it fades in all of us if it isn't as important as the part that is recalled. I know she didn't always succeed in dragging you away from your books. Nor could I." Things had been different, once. The nostalgia is bittersweet at best, more bitter than sweet, for Elidibus wasn't the eager youth he once was and Igeyorhm..
It didn't bear thinking about right now, and it's put aside.
How someone could be so detached from anything as to not understand what a preference was beggared belief, and for a little bit this is considered. Even Ifrita knew what she wanted, how she wanted it and how to get it it, and she was a creation through and through. Why would Elidibus not know such a basic, ordinary thing? Even the derivative misshapen echo of Ifrit knew. "Yes. If you choose it instead of other, more practical things, then you prefer it, and thus enjoy it. If it were mere convenience you sought then some nutritious easily carried food would be the preference, not a piece of confectionery."
This was a problem. How long had it been going on?
They both have much to consider, but the thought of it seems to draw a long sigh from the dragon. "It seems I have much to accomplish before this world finishes ruining me," he mutters. "If only to set you back to a true equilibrium before this goes any further. Stay the night. I would see what comes." They did say after all that shared dreams and such could be an issue, and maybe once he knew where all the plentiful gaps were he could begin filling them in.
no subject
Date: 6 Feb 2021 18:19 (UTC)Yes, twisted as his recollection was at the time, further thought had unraveled that he'd jumbled memories. There's another page for such things, in that open journal. But more upon that later. The point now is relevant.
And like scabs upon an open wound, the matter is begging to be picked at, for all the pain it gives. "Why not more of my inauguration? And why so much of a brief, inconsequential moment?" He calls it 'so much' when it is naught but a few moments of speech. Elidibus's hands shake from the tension in its body, humming warning of its limits.
Yet Lahabrea disarmed him. With a cookie. Though Elidibus does manage a minor protest and a glance at his satchel. "Of course I have nutritious food Lahabrea, this body cannot live solely upon biscuits. What is the p--" Oh.
Ooooh.
And Igeyorhm, yes. Elidibus had proffered a thoughtful looking nod then at odds with his current confusion. Automatically trying to place the data in its proper context already. Yet even knowing Lahabrea of now was the Speaker then hasn't cemented a clearer image of the memory. Igeyorhm, barely known as a Convocation member to his mind, that much less. But now he knows.
And now, it seems to have merited enough importance that Elidibus swiftly picks up his pen and turns to that page... pages upon the Convocation. Most, just names. Tidbits over the eons regarding the use of their Sundered pieces that he recalls. He writes down the information-- a memory of old, this time-- on Igeyorhm and Lahabrea. The bits about that memory. Of rains ended and a new day to look upon. He doesn't hide what is written and Lahabrea can see. Several pages are used up for matters of the Convocation and their Seats sure. But so little compared to what could be there.
And as expected, almost nothing of Amaurot.
Writing calms him and emotions drain again. Even when stirred, he'd never been able to maintain them for long. Sure they are still uneasily settled for now, but it is clear that it's not just by force of will he keeps himself hollow. The book is closed and it and the writing tool are returned to the satchel. His other hand is finally noticed and lifts, still clutching the feathers. "My apologies. These are yours, I believe." Under his fingers, he can feel the soft hum of their power and potential. After all his is... slightly weakened and a dragon is strong regardless of the time of the month.
More focused, Elidibus can understand what Lahabrea refers to. And perhaps there might be a concession reached. But later. Certainly now is not the time, especially as the dragon speaks about staying to sleep. To see what comes?
"Hm. Would you have us stay like this?" the Ascian asks. Certainly, contact would be most like to curry the transfer of dreams across the Bond. "Or shall I settle elsewhere while you continue work?" Briefly, Elidibus's eyes stray up to the obsidian block. And it's a reasonable question. He hardly expects Lahabrea or himself to remain in contact the entire night. Though Elidibus doesn't seem to find it in him to move right now, either.
no subject
Date: 6 Feb 2021 20:27 (UTC)Lahabrea could pry about the book, but he doesn't. What its purpose was he could take guesses at, it wasn't quite the writing down he had meant but maybe it would so some good. Or at least, leave some sort of record for the future.
There was nothing to focus his indignation on over any of it; his own situation, the trouble Elidibus endured. The only one who seemed to be coming out of any of this content was the missing third, and he ... well, it might not even be his doing but the manipulations of others.
It's too much to think about when thought itself was an effort, and the last few minutes took considerable tenacity to manage. It was easier, preferable even, to stew in his own irritation than any thoughts that might accompany such annoyance. Blank frustration and fury. "I can't well put them back." Those were definitely his feathers, and he was going to have a small gap in his plumage now. It would grow back eventually. "There are some who will pay well for such things. Keep it." Or sell it, as the implication goes, there's not much Lahabrea can do with it now.
Later would tend to later, and though he did indeed itch to return to some kind of work, doing nothing somehow deeply antithetical, but if he moved it would force Elidibus to do likewise, and for the moment, with the trouble he's already having, that seemed.. a little rude. So he remains where he is, even though it was an annoyance.. but everything, everything was an annoyance, including going back to work so he chooses the one that is at least comfortable. "There's no reason to move unless one grows cramped or some such," is the eventual reply. "Mayhap the days and nights will pass more quickly if I am simply not conscious to experience them."
There's an idea, drug himself into oblivion!
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Date: 6 Feb 2021 21:55 (UTC)And yes, though Elidibus might not admit it and it may not be discernable through the general cycle of calming down, the touch of his Bondmate has help eased the pace of his heart.
And made the Emissary willing to speak in the first place, of such private matters as his fears.
Speaking about the matter of what to do about sleeping, Elidibus is suddenly conscious that there is no real discomfort in their position. It's only a little awkward now that he's thinking about how much in contact he is with his fellow Ascian. But somehow this dratted mortal host had reacted on its own again to shift into the most comfortable position. As if the accursed bean bag chair wasn't bad enough. Elidibus sighs.
"No, it seems there is not any reason. Though it may prove a bit uncomfortable later... Hm. Desist with your talons for a moment, if you will."
The matter was given a moment's reflection and the 'why later' is easily answered. Sitting up just enough, Elidibus begins to remove the sleeveless turtleneck to leave his torso bare. Yes, the matter of Lahabrea's body temperature has been a bit troublesome, though the shirt itself is not going far. Some sort of barrier has to be used as a mat between the constant temperature spikes and bare hyur flesh.
There. Settling back down, the Ascian cranes his head so he can look up at Lahabrea. "I would recommend against using alcohol as a vector." Let's just say by this time he's had a recent... experience on such matters.
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Date: 6 Feb 2021 23:58 (UTC)Anywhere else this certainly would be scandalous now, with both of them now shirtless, maskless, and otherwise comfortably somewhat entangled, and he's acutely aware of it. But nobody else is here. And Elidibus couldn't well mock him for it when he himself was participating in it. Was there a word for a shame one indulged in anyway? If there is, it eludes him for now, though he sets his mind to puzzling after it anyway. A guilty pleasure, perhaps. There was a part of him, one he wasn't entirely sure was the dragon, that was perfectly content to enjoy any kind of physical contact at all.
"Stars, no." Alcohol! "..When have you ever tried to use alcohol to sedate yourself?" He turns a scrutinizing gaze downwards, frowning faintly. Would he have recognized it if Elidibus went and got himself drunk? Probably not. Would he have done anything about it had he known?
....Probably not.
no subject
Date: 7 Feb 2021 00:36 (UTC)"...If you wish to continue, I will not object."
He'd heard that thump of a tail. Also, something seemed oddly missing when it stopped.
The Ascian isn't remiss in offering his own return to the efforts of finding good places to scritch. But this time it's without a methodical search. He finds a place easy to reach. Probably somewhere around the ribs, letting his fingers burrow to scratch along the scales underneath.
"Of course I haven't used alcohol to sedate myself," Elidibus answers. Perhaps with a bit of reproach. He's none so foolish. Not... intentionally. The Emissary looks up to meet Lahabrea's gaze. Perish the thought! "A recent... investigation may not have exactly as I intended." Ah yes. And that admittance is accompanied by a slight sense of discomfort through the Bond.
Perhaps... embarrassment?
no subject
Date: 7 Feb 2021 00:54 (UTC)He could wonder at them but could not yet devise any way of doing anything about it.
Was it something worth venturing to bring up to Emet-Selch? Could he even care, as he was, about this uncomfortable discovery?
The faint flicker of what might be embarrassment draws a slow furrow of brows. "Speak plainly. What have you been up to?" With Elidibus' general and alarming ignorance for all things obvious, that left a whole lot of possibilities, some of which are starkly alarming and potentially extremely dangerous.
no subject
Date: 7 Feb 2021 01:32 (UTC)And he was maintaining a moderate pace. It's just that pace car was an Irishman.
Elidibus clearly doesn't want to clarify further. Especially as Lahabrea's inquiry is very broad. He duly considers asking for more specificity to muster up the necessary choice on what to say. And then the Emissary concludes that it was probably not very wise to test Lahabrea's patience on the full moon. He does sigh a bit.
"I was speaking to a Mirrorbound I arranged a meeting with. He professed a willingness to speak on the kidnapping of Mirrorbound which happened last year-- though not related to the current kidnappings performed by the Evergreen Circle. As he proclaimed he would require a round of ale to speak of matters I wished to discern, it seemed fitting that I too indulge."
Reasonable so far.
"While I had taken some time to study how one conducts themselves in such environs, it seems I misunderstood some of the intricacies which mortals use." Elidibus doesn't seem embarrassed anymore, but probably because being precise is... familiar. Though he pauses and frowns in thought to recollect more of the specifics. "Did you know their habit of eating copious amounts of bite-sized, overly salted food was in fact to negate some of the worst symptoms of inebriation? I had thought it some manner of a ploy on the part of the establishment's owners to encourage patrons to buy more drinks."
Well, he's correct on that count. He just missed the first bit.
Elidibus seems intrigued by it. Not that one would be able to see it in his expression, but there is something akin to interest which briefly sparks across the Bond.
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Date: 7 Feb 2021 16:12 (UTC)"It is." He sounds a little puzzled at the idea that salty snacks might in any way help do anything but increase thirst. That's just not how it worked, a pretzel didn't have enough nutrients in it to do anything worthwhile. "If the tavern owner wished to slow inebriation, he'd water his drinks instead. Salt merely encourages it."
How ridiculous!
Of course, if such a tale is sown, then it would encourage patrons to eat, and then drink more, so it's likely one of those ongoing deceptions that people assume are true simply because everyone says it is. "How long did it take for you to reach a state of impairment?"
A more concerned person might suggest Elidibus not touch alcohol ever again. Lahabrea isn't one of these people. Obviously Elidibus survived the experience, and his only actual warnings are to the deceptive practices of certain barkeeps. So bland is his reaction in fact that it might be tacit approval - no flare of sharp irritation or anger, aside from the baseline ongoing trouble.
no subject
Date: 8 Feb 2021 01:18 (UTC)"I doubt the man I was speaking with would have recommended a place where the owner was known for the practice of watering down his drinks," Elidibus answers dryly. That much he could pick up, even if it hadn't been said in so many words.
But how much had he been able to take in before he'd been impaired? This is a good question and one which the Ascian takes a few moments to reflect on. "I am unsure," is offered after a moment. "While my mind seemed to possess some clarity, this host's movements were difficult to control when I first stood." This much he is certain of. "Perhaps... four or five servings of ale?" Serving being relative. Whether he had anything else other than drink was also relative. "Hm. There were more, but I seem to be having trouble recollecting a precise accounting." Which he seems to find a little annoying. Recent memories don't fade as quickly. But especially since he came to this world, his recollection of details has been especially sharp. "I did not expect the impact to be so severe."
Yes, Elidibus did think he could willpower through alcohol. At least the lesson's learned. It certainly won't stop him, but he'll be more cautious.
no subject
Date: 8 Feb 2021 23:45 (UTC)But there's no real reproach, some lessons need to be learned in person and not simply told. Especially in the case of the Emissary, who might summarily choose to abstain entirely and miss out on plenty of interesting drinks simply to avoid a risk. "After a point it does blur together," he says, as if working through memories not his own. Which is precisely what he's doing in fact, he didn't retain overmuch from his time as Thancred, but the bits he retained were useful in their way. "Some mortals consider it a high point of socialization, if you're willing to drink to the point of not remembering. You may have ingratiated yourself to this individual by doing so."
Maybe encouragement, maybe not, it's hard to tell. Lahabrea's not elaborating further, if only because the details elude him; instead he settles in place a bit more comfortably, shifting this way and that in such a fashion that Elidibus might get jostled a bit before returning to something like stillness.
It's enough for now. It did answer his question, it did mean Elidibus has found another potential source of information and who knows what else, and Lahabrea wasn't going to interfere. Endless ignorance of even the obvious aside, Elidibus could handle himself quite well, and there was no need to worry over-much about most of what this city could bring to bear. Most of it could be handled quite well with a sudden axe to the face.
For all intents and purposes it doesn't seem like Lahabrea intends to add anything else.
no subject
Date: 9 Feb 2021 05:42 (UTC)The advice, such as is offered is accepted with a nod. Getting an understanding of how various drinks effects sobriety is definitely on the list. There's a bottle of gin and one of honey mead waiting for such experiments upstairs. The third bottle is not for his personal consumption, of course.
It's easy to let the conversation end there, though the Emissary frowns a little bit as he's jostled. A matter he might not have been aware of being annoyed about because as soon as Lahabrea is obviously not getting up, the Ascian's expression clears.
So they fall into silence. It's not as awkward as one might think; simply a period where one doesn't feel the need to talk. After a while, Elidibus's hand stops scratching along Lahabrea's side. He settles against Lahabrea, though he half suspects the host body's idiosyncrasies are at work rather than his own intent. "I am going to sleep now." His arms are crossed over his stomach. And with the dragon Lahabrea still in contact, it comes with an odd sense of security. Well, he isn't very familiar with that either, so it'll be up to the Speaker to pick up on that through the Bond before it gets buried.
"...I wish to speak to you again. If you will avoid sleeping through the entirety of the next few...suns." Decades or centuries are words more customary to the slumbers he's seen his fellow Ascian go through. Especially Emet-Selch. A few days is such a silly thing to be stressed over. "...I would appreciate it." So please, no drugs.
Without further conversation, or questions, the body's needs will take over and he'll eventually drift off to slumber. But there may be much that happens between now and the dawn of morning. A dragon in the full moon. The matter of pants. And of course the chance of dreams.
no subject
Date: 9 Feb 2021 15:41 (UTC)Intimate, even if disturbing in its way.
"I don't have the means to render myself unconscious for that long," is the reluctant response. "Else I would use it." He would, whether or not Elidibus wanted to talk. It would not calm the storm but it would render it utterly ignorable, and that was as far as he was concerned, a perfect ideal. The risk remained, for all that it was for the moment dampened a bit even without the soothing rub of fingertips on scale; what might get said or done that would spike smoldering fury into blind wrath and lead him to lash out with terrible consequences?
The thought sat uncomfortably alongside the vague sense of security that bled through their bond. He could so easily betray that trust, without ever intending to.
But he'll still be there when Elidibus wakes. If he himself dozes off at any point it's not really easy to tell, but in the passage of hour upon hour in quiet and warmth, the Emissary remains for the most part undisturbed and unawoken.
Save perhaps a silent monitoring of temperature, and if the room grows too hot for what Lahabrea knows mortals tolerate easily, do something about that without actually untangling enough to get up ... and maybe the tinge of red to dreams that might otherwise not be there, like fires on the distant horizon.
no subject
Date: 9 Feb 2021 23:45 (UTC)And a rain of fire in the sky.
As the Emissary drifts off to sleep, some hope might be found. The emotionless nature remains strong, but there is a sense that some of it is of conscious making. Some of it refusal to fall prey to emotions, this is true. But also a fight not to fall into the void and simply become nothing. Not just for the sake of everyone else, but also his own.
Is it any surprise a sense of heat and distant fire would give rise to memories of the Final Days in his dreams? Though perhaps the fleeting glimpse of watching a twisted mix of Aefenglom and a distant twist of Amaurotine towers. The rain of fire a distant scene. Elidibus turns to say something to... is that a dragon?
But the dream shifts before anything is head. Still, it might have been somewhat familiar.
Elidibus at peace with himself, surrendering to the aether fed to him, reshaping his existence into a vessel... a heart.
But deep within the amethyst void, awareness. Prayers cried out. Voices of thousands unceasing. Risen not in pleasant debate but fearful argument. They called and he answered.
It's out of order, but also the fragmented memory of the Convocation Speaker and another member, speaking to him about his dedication to duty. Still barely recognized, though Lahabrea's mask now replaces a featureless red and in that dream, Elidibus seems on the cusp of almost knowing who they were.
Yet they withdraw and vanish as he reaches out to them yet again.
Precious little of this is dreams, though undoubtedly Elidibus would call it such if asked. These instead are nightmares.
In the passage of the first several hours of the night, his host body does stir, does sweat. His mind drifts between the state of dreaming and deeper slumber, but never at rest. And not just because there is too much heat.
no subject
Date: 11 Feb 2021 00:13 (UTC)No.
He couldn't allow it. He could't let the beast drag them both down.
But over the passage of time, Lahabrea too grows tired. In spite of his firm alliance with Zodiark he was ever a creature of diurnal habits, and staying awake all night every night was beyond him. The dragon weighs on it, for it too prefers the daylight to the night, and only once he's certain Elidibus isn't about to sweat him into soddenness with feathery absorption does he allow his awareness to fade. In time it means moving again, a slow and unwaking shift until he has the rather smaller Ascian thoroughly wrapped in arms and tail; where there cold to be had, it wouldn't reach there, in a shroud of crimson and gold.
And in dreams, a spark of fire of a different hue weaves across the burning distant horizon. It's there, again and again.
A flash of feathers and streaming fiery tail as meteors crawl inevitably groundward, bright and shining and as far away as those meteors themselves. The glass and steel of mixed Amaurotine and Aefenglom construction reflect no meteorfall, but that distant burning spot does.
It's easy to miss. There's so much else going on.
But it's there. It's always there, when it shouldn't be, a faraway gleam within a shroud of darkness, one more voice rising in the chorus of fear and horror and confusion. A forgotten melody, high and wild and full of an elation so intense it is pain; it doesn't belong here.
It belongs here. It's always been there. Hadn't it?
Hadn't it?
There's a sound, as Elidibus reaches towards futile disappearing forms. If a hearthfire had a song, if flame could soothe, gentle what it touches, if the merry crackle of a bonfire on a cool autumn night had music of its own, then it would be that sound. It doesn't drown out the darkness, it never could. But what it can do is seed the dark with a million pinpoints of burning light shaken off its wings in showers of sparks.
"The song too heals, like its magic. If it is allowed to. It cannot live in an unwilling heart."
In the distance, a spark dances - flaming wings and burning tail and an eye as bright as the dawn, not ... quite the shape of a dragon. A bird, only a bird, though at most one of its kind ever in existence at any given moment, and its claws shape the distant stars into recognizable formations, one by one.
no subject
Date: 13 Feb 2021 00:47 (UTC)At the dreams begin to cross into a realm which by any right could be deemed 'nightmare', there are... stars.
They do not fall in a rain of flame and terror. The sparks instead are lifted on wings (not a dragon, but feathers, heat... song) and shaped into stars. Countless symbols of hope. Then those stars are themselves shaped, the beginning of tales long forgott--
To say Elidibus is a little surprised when he awakens may be an understatement. There is intense confusion and some discomfort as the Ascian becomes aware that it is not wrapped in a blanket in an over-warm room. This is another living individual. Complete with a heartbeat, the steady rise and fall from breathing, and the tactile sensation of feathers and scale against hyur flesh.
Much more than he remembers baring last night. It appears in the interests of comfort, but his own and the dragon's concern for sweat-soaked feathers, Elidibus has been divested of pants. Only smallclothes remain. He takes a while to reflect on his condition and what he.... 'feels' about it. Oh, the near-nudity is not what bothers the Emissary. It's certainly not about 'sexual' intimacy that could be construed from the circumstances. Such matters just do not register.
Elidibus wonders if this would have been how he awakened on a night where the full moon hadn't been affecting Lahabrea's behaviors. Or more to the point, will this be what he needs to expect in the future? The Ascian gazes at the top of the steel cage. Tonight may have been a risk, but it was not without results.
And ah yes. Dragging himself- somewhat reluctantly- back to the thought of how he feels. A dim memory of song tugs at his mind. Something from his dreams? It's too new and the content, both good and bad, somewhat ephemeral as it is. The Ascian isn't too fond of dreaming, yet. It's like an even more confusing array of fragmented memories into which errors accrue. It's just as well they mostly fade when he wakes up.
Then there's this virtually unfettered tangle of bodies to weigh. Elidibus can't say he feels like a victim of circumstance. Here and there he obviously tried to make himself more comfortable. Legs tried to escape and get a bit cooler air, only to end up wrapped around (or wrapped back up) by tail and... Lahabrea's legs.
There are a few places where the Ascian can probably work his way free. An arm, for instance. Part of his leg. Another leg.. tug... hmm. It seems other bits are going to be difficult without tugging and threatening to disturb Lahabrea and Elidibus is not sure what frame of mind his Bonded is going to wake in. So finally, he offers in a bland voice.
"Lahabrea. Are you awake?"
If the dragon is awake, he might notice the small trace of tears upon the Emissary's face before they are completely dry. Elidibus does not seem aware. Perhaps he thought it nothing more than a trace of sweat brought on by the room and his sleeping partner.
In truth, he's completely oblivious to it.
no subject
Date: 14 Feb 2021 01:42 (UTC)The other very much is not; sleep is not something Lahabrea welcomes, it interrupts endless work that needed to be done, and being comfortable enough with his surroundings to bother was rarer yet, but there was something strangely comforting about having someone else there. Maybe he'd been taking the wrong track these past millennia, and should have sought company earlier. A strange and unexpected balm, comfort where none was really expected ... surely the result of a bond and not some neglected need for company he's been ignoring all this time.
Were they any others but themselves, stripping Elidibus of most of what remained of his clothing would certainly have been a lead-in to things guaranteed to cause even more sweat and heat - but neither are inclined, and such a thing was practicality only.
Besides, he kept it hot enough in this house where clothing was for decency alone, not necessity.
As soon as Elidibus so much as twitches, there's a brief change in warm breath before it steadies again, but now the dragon's awake. He's not moving, but he's absolutely awake, and as the Emissary tugs and pulls a little bit in a vague attempt to free himself, Lahabrea is quietly utterly uncooperative.
It's thoroughly inappropriate, he supposes, but isn't that what other bonds do? Inconvenience each other in a constant parade of small petty and mostly harmless ways?
"Mm." He's awake. Mostly, anyway, that undercurrent of endless wrath hasn't stirred itself back up yet, though it surely inevitably would. Another day.. or two ... and that might become easier to contend with, to bury, but for now ... there's being a mild inconvenience in keeping Elidibus a little tangled up.
There is the scent of tears alongside the smell of sweat. What dreams had plagued, to cause such a thing? He didn't remember. "You stink." It's quiet, barely more than a murmur.
No he doesn't. And who's fault would it be if he did, anyway? Elidibus isn't the living furnace here.
no subject
Date: 14 Feb 2021 22:19 (UTC)Not at first. They're tangled up pretty tightly, after all and it stands to reason that being careful about extrication does mean some resistance. Still, puzzling out limbs shouldn't be taking this long and it seems every time the Ascian makes progress, there's another metaphorical knot to work loose.
So he relaxes and calls out to see if Lahabrea is 'awake'. Letting sleeping dragons lie (about being asleep) need not continue. The moment a vaguely affirmative 'mm' is offered, blue eyes are turned upward to find Lahabrea's face.
There is also a faint sniff of the air. Well, a hyur's nose isn't going to be too fine about it, but there's the smell of sweat that's undoubtedly not the dragon, among whatever dragon smells come from feathers, scales, and heat. And without much judgment, Elidibus answers, "Indeed. I will be glad to master magicks which will minimize the work it takes to keep it clean." It'll be too late by then. He'll be addicted to the concept of a hot bath or shower. "Of course you realize I could have attended to the matter some minutes ago, had you not seen fit to complicate matters?"
Without much judgment. And despite something that's almost like dry humor and an answer about the condition of his body that was too pragmatic, Elidibus doesn't seem too put out.
"...May I inquire as to the location of my trousers?"
no subject
Date: 16 Feb 2021 23:39 (UTC)It is well known that Lahabrea doesn't in fact possess a sense of humor that he'll admit to, nor that he actually enjoys anything but the suffering of others, so clearly none of that can be happening. There is nothing of gentleness in the Abyssal Celebrant, so anything like it must be an illusion, some deceit for some unknown purpose.
But he continues to quietly make a nuisance of himself, the dimmest, barest flickers of amusement crossing their bond. It's too easy to do with the size difference between them and having an entire extra limb up on Elidibus. In this strange liminal moment, it might be easy to forget there had been bloodthirsty fury, or hunger or the edges of moon-madness. Certainly it can't last, it wouldn't last, and very likely no-one else would be allowed such an indignity as Lahabrea idly working on keeping them entangled with the subtlest of little motions.
It's a good thing he doesn't have his wings yet, else he'd use those too. "Of course, of course." He still hasn't raised his voice. There were bathing opportunities to be had upstairs! And hot running water to go with it, because it's about the only sort he can even tolerate, and then it's the smell of wet feathers for HOURS but Elidibus wo't have that problem.
"....Mmm.. over there somewhere." There's a nebulous gesture with one hand, and with it the barest openings of escape. Honestly he hadn't paid much attention, they were in the way and causing more sweat and it wasn't necessary besides. How utterly scandalous this would be in another situation.. "Do you remember your dreams? I smell salt." Tears.
no subject
Date: 18 Feb 2021 22:21 (UTC)But Lahabrea would know there isn't much frustration rising in Elidibus. Lots of patience and reasoned debate, but suffering isn't there. Would that not mean this might, however unlikely, mean that between enjoyment of suffering and actual amusement, the emotion fleetingly felt with the Bond is, in fact, the hallmarks of a sense of humor?
An opening or a trap? Elidibus will seek to use the opportunity to sit up. There is some success, perhaps. After all, he's only testing a bit but not actually seeking to surge out of Lahabrea's hold.
"Why are you asking about... ah, yes. The Bond." Elidibus would have begun to ponder whether he remembers any of the images which might have crossed over the Bond from Lahabrea. It didn't occur to him at first that Lahabrea meant his own dreams.
But then, the word 'salt' really strikes home. A reference that Elidibus does not take long to puzzle, by the way he raises a hand to brush a few fingers near his eyes. The tears are dry but there's still a trace to feel and... marvel over? It's absolutely certain now that he'd not been aware. "What is this?"
Elidibus knows what tears are. This is not what he's asking, almost to himself as though he momentarily forgot Lahabrea's presence. Forgot to mimic his own tones and thus asked the rhetoric with Ardbert's natural voice. His jaw snaps shut moments later which suggests he realizes the brief loss of control. When he speaks again, Elidibus has collected himself.
"Fragments. They were... nonsensical as ever," he murmurs absently and almost indifferent. But however reluctant the answer is given, it is indeed an answer that doesn't quite dismiss the matter.
Zodiark was a dragon. Flames on the horizon were... hope? And mix this with the usual, waking nightmare of fruitlessly chasing what little recollection of Amaurot he still has. Prayers reaching out, gripping and molding him until he could no longer recognize himself--
"I can't remember anything which would cause this." For a second there is an acrid sting of bitterness across the Bond. And then defenses are rising. "These 'tears' are more like to be yet another physical response of this host I can no longer control."
It's a fancy way of saying he must have dust in his eyes. Elidibus isn't fooling anyone in the room with it. But he will try to end the conversation by continuing to wend his way out of the nest of dragon and bean bag. There's plenty of excuses to do so. Find trousers. Get out of the cage. Take a bath. Wash away any proof that tears were ever-present. He's about to set his feet down on the floor of the cage.
Bare feet. And he seems to have forgotten about the shards of obsidian scattered around.
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Date: 19 Feb 2021 19:39 (UTC)What's this?
"Something must have been distressing, recalled or not." He knows not what though, and can't begin to guess. Though he knows he dreams every time he sleeps, those dreams inevitably fade to nothingness by the time he wakes, leaving him with no images in their passing.
Dreams weren't supposed to be sensible. "It's rare for anyone to remember their dreams, past the very moment of waking, which is why I asked now and not later. They fade for all, like fog beneath the sun. In another few bells, if there's anything left at all to recall, it would be unusual." Reassurance, of a sort, to that surge of bitterness. This ... this isn't Elidibus' broken relation to the world and everything in it including himself, it's merely how things were.
They weren't meant to last. That was the point of dreams. A brief exercise in imagination and emotion as a mind struggles with its daily life. A biological necessity. But not a lingering one.
Escaping, for the moment, isn't difficult, though there is a sudden movement from the dragon as Elidibus attempts to stand to quite abruptly grab Elidibus and heft him right off the floor, setting him instead to one quarter-turn to the side in a little flash of irritation. He remembers the shards, and that work he'd been up to, surely Elidibus could damn well remember it too, it wasn't centuries ago.. "Watch your step."
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