EL NYSA IC INBOX.

[daemonized]

ardyn izunia.

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action; house no.36

[valcurie]

( so. knock, knock, knock on her door? she doesn't actually stay in the living area to hear how many knocks there precisely are. but she hears at least one, so that's her cue to leave her writing and go to open the door. )

Hello there. Go ahead and come in.

( welcome to her temporary home. though the time she's allowed to stay may be short the place has obviously been meticulous cleaned, sanitised, and organised. having only one other roommate, and a nice one at that, it's been easier than she'd expected.

she steps aside with a faint smile on her face. eat your heart out, dustman. )

[daemonized]

[And what a nice temporary home it is! It looks a bit like… well, his own, since they’ve all basically the same layout, except far more organized. He has three roommates, after all — two of them teenagers (harmless enough, he supposes), and one that wishes to have absolutely nothing to do with him. So much that she'd probably kill him in his sleep, if such a thing were possible. Such is the disadvantage of having been assigned to share housing with a familiar face from Eos.

But that’s neither here nor there. Ardyn stands at the door with a smile once she opens it up for him, utilized so often as a way to make himself difficult to read that it might as well be his neutral expression at this point. But his tone is light and airy when he speaks.]

Good afternoon, Doctor. [Stepping in, he takes in his surroundings with a mild interest. Organization, cleanliness. Quite meticulous. Not terribly surprising. The ceiling still feels too low for a man of his height, but that’s hardly anyone’s fault.]

I assumed your interest hasn’t waned since we’ve last spoke?

[valcurie]

( as he passes her, there's a humming in her throat, a sound that's neither committed or unfriendly. she looks after him, impressive figure that he cuts, and scoffs as she close the door. )

I may be a mere mortal, but my attention span is a bit better than that.

( this is a comfortable way for her to answer him. sass and such come easily, and they provide some protection, something for her to rally behind, he has an odd way of trying to keep her ever-so-slightly off-balance. she doesn't like it. it's unnerving to say the least and it's not good to just let someone have the upperhand. even if her resistance is just more amusement for him.

she walks past him now, bare-footed and clad in black leggings and a matching camisole. obviously, she's made no special efforts for him, besides a steaming pot of tea, two mugs, and her notebook which has been set upon the coffee table. she gestures to two armchairs and the couch. )

Would you like something to drink? Or would you like to skip that bit altogether?

voice. | UN: priest

[congratulating]

A series of unfortunate events has made it mildly difficult to settle in, but it would seem like most of those matters are handled. And so, I ask if you are able to have that chat?

[daemonized]

Oh? Unfortunate events? Nothing too troublesome, I hope.

And yes, I am available. My time is yours, friend.

[congratulating]

What doesn't kill us-- [ He offers with half a laugh. ]

Since your time is mine, you can choose which place I waste... no, spend it. That is the least that I can do.

text; un: crimson duelist

[verflair]

[ X’rhun has been able to piece together just how the calendar in this place relates to the calendar of his home world, and given that winter is on the horizon, it seems it’s time for the Starlight Celebration.

Mayhap that’s not a thing here, not really, but he’ll hold onto whatever pieces of home he can. ]

Good day, my friend. I was wondering if I might borrow a moment of your time at some point?

[daemonized]

[It only takes a minute or two for Ardyn's response to come through.]

I suppose I can spare a passing moment, yes. Name a time and a place, and I shall be there.

[verflair]

There is a little eatery in the city of which I've become fond, if that works for you. In a bell, mayhap?

Ah, an hour, I mean. I'm still not used to that.

[ And he sends along the name and location of said restaurant as well. ]

action sorta kinda; early march-ish (1/2)

[verflair]

[ How did this box get to Ardyn's doorstep? It's a mystery – a mystery that involves calling in a few favors from an Olympian or fellow refugee or two. It's not a large package, though somewhat heavy for its size. There is no return address, nothing to indicate who it may be from.

But X'rhun knows Ardyn, and he knows his curiosity will eventually get the better of him, so when Ardyn opens the box, he will first find a length of shimmering gold cloth. It is a scarf, the fabric lightweight and simple, unremarkable if not for the metallic nature of the color. He's had those damn jars of dye for so long, why not use it?

The scarf is wrapped carefully around the second object, and tied with a no doubt familiar red ribbon. Removing the scarf will reveal a solid gold statue of a book. A bit perplexing at first, probably, but when Ardyn takes the statue in hand, runs his fingers over the surface, the nature of it subtly shifts. Gold is breathed into paper, and the book flips open with a whisper of now very real pages.

Inside, there is... a note. A very long note, written in neat script by whatever magic or technology or both that lives in this tome. It reads: ]

[verflair]

Hello Ardyn.

An interesting little device, is this not? A gift from the Natha – and I hope you will forgive me its use. I felt it best to organize my thoughts before we spoke, and this seemed to be the easiest way to do so.

I suppose I needn't tell you what you no doubt already suspect: I have spoken to Prompto. It was... an eye-opening conversation to say the very least. And lest you wonder, I have chosen to take him at his word, and I believe you knew that I would. The boy doesn't have a dishonest bone in his body.

Gods, where do I even begin? I had my suspicions, of course, that I would stumble upon something dark and violent were I to learn the truth, and though I believe I do not yet hold the whole story, the things I do know have surpassed my expectations. Murder, kidnapping, torture, even. He tells me you planned to shroud the world in darkness, but you and I both know you already succeeded in that, did you not? All those moons ago, when you told me the Starscourge blotted out Eos' sun, I had no idea that same darkness flowed through your very veins.

You are... you are everything I have ever endeavored to fight against. You are everything I hate, and indeed, I should hate you.

And yet... I cannot bring myself to hate you.

You saved my life, and I believe in that moment you didn't have to. You could have lied, could have delivered the news of my demise with a falsehood or not at all. Who would have been there to know the truth but the ruined corpse of a chimera? Yet you chose to use the very power that once damned you to save me. I owe you a debt that I don't believe I can ever repay, but that's only the half of it. I glimpsed something in that moment. For the space of a heartbeat, through a crack in centuries of flippant indifference, I saw your pain.

I cannot begin to understand it, and should I live even half as long as you, I may never truly understand, but there is one thing that I do know. I know that hating you solves nothing. Hating you makes nothing better. You don't need another soul to shun you. Decades ago, when I took up the mantle of the Red to fight for the freedom of my people, I swore an oath, one I keep and do my best to uphold even now. “To champion the weak, with heart and steel.” I have seen you fight, my friend. It is not my blade that you need.

There are questions I yet have. I know not where this path may lead, and I may not like the answers you have to give, but I would know them, regardless. Some things cannot be overlooked, as you said, but that does not have to mean the end.

Call me, please. Or come to Wyver, if you like. I'll be needing this book back, anyway. It is but a useless statue in the hands of anyone else but me. The scarf you may keep, if that were not obvious from the start.

Until we speak again, be well, my friend.

Yours,
X'rhun Tia

[daemonized]

[X’rhun would not be wrong. Ardyn is many things, but even he is not immune to curiosity. The delivery beckons him, and he opens it up nearly as soon as he lays eyes upon it.

What he finds is not quite what he expected, though the scarf is something surprising; and yet the moment he sees it, appreciation is quashed by a feeling of knowing. There is something lingering in the air now, something that felt a pieces of the earth crumbling beneath his feet.

But he doesn’t hesitate, his expression doesn’t even change, as he unwraps the rest of it. The scarf goes around his neck to hold its place, and the book-statue soon reveals itself to not be a book-statue at all, but rather a strange sort of contraption that turns into a “proper” sort of tome with “proper” sort of pages.

And a note. A letter, really, from X’rhun.

He reads it, and it is only then that Ardyn’s expression twists into a frown. He expected it, really, for Prompto to have told him everything and for him to believe all of it. And Ardyn is not inclined to call him a liar — all true, every word of it. Every sin and every crime he committed, and he likely would have done it again if given the chance. Simply to reach at his goals one last desperate time.

But X’rhun, he still calls him friend despite it all. Says that he saw something in him that day he healed the red mage, something like vulnerability and pain. He almost stops reading then and there, but he is pulled along. Curiosity is a powerful thing. That strange mix of emotion in the pit of his chest, even more so.

When he’s done, Ardyn doesn’t call. Several days pass and X’rhun will receive no sort of reply at all. Until one day, he’s in Wyver and at the other’s front door, golden book-statue in hand. It matches the scarf around his neck.

Knock knock.]

text; early march

[originallutece]

When are you next patrolling?

[daemonized]

Tomorrow morning, I've a patrol to keep to. Why do you wish to know?

[originallutece]

I'll walk with you. I've a few questions, and given you've seemingly accepted the role of teacher, you're due to answer them.

text; un: crimson duelist | backdated to around the intro log | 1/2

[verflair]

Fkdssfdslkjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

2/2

[verflair]

[ This comes on the heels of the first, and no doubt confusing, message: ]

My apologies. It seems my new friend wished to say hello.

[ Attached is a selfie (look, he’s learning!) of X’rhun, with a black and white cat curled around his shoulders. ]

[daemonized]

No worries to be had; I suspected that your first message was the result of some feline-related error.

New friend of yours?

[Ah... a house cat.]

text; un: crimson duelist

[verflair]

[ Hello Ardyn, are you getting sick of random photographs from X’rhun? Hopefully not, because here’s another. This time, the red mage himself is absent from the photo, which instead shows a white chocobo of all things. It’s sitting, legs tucked beneath it, in the grass somewhere, head tilted curiously at the strange device being used to capture its likeness.

This is a Hydaelyn-brand bird, since it looks like a smaller version of the one that was at Alisaie and Prompto’s wedding. ]

The Natha brought be a friend, it seems.

1/2

[daemonized]

[Oh. Oh no. Why is everyone except him getting a chocobo? Is fate conspiring against him again? It's hardly fair, and his eyes go over the picture several times before a response goes through.]

It's hardly fair.

[daemonized]

[A more Ardyn-like response follows:]

Does your friend have a name? When did this happen?

action; early june

[verflair]

[ The station is in disarray. The Natha can’t have been gone long, and already it seems to X’rhun that the place is falling apart at the seams. However, such things are far, far beyond him. They’ve no technology even close to this where he comes from, and while he’s familiarized himself with the communication devices and things like Prompto’s camera, the station is a different animal altogether.

All he can do is wait for sharper minds than his to step in to help.

In the meantime, he has taken to checking up on his loved ones still in stasis more often than normal. Thank the Twelve that the stasis room seems to be able to function on its own, but every time he crosses the threshold, there is a lingering dread that he will find darkened, thawing tubes, and the forms therein still and silent for completely different reasons.

Gods willing, that will never come to pass.

Arya is much as X’rhun remembers her, not just from his previous visits, but from their parting in Mor Dhona, when he bade her and the Warrior of Light farewell so that he might continue his pilgrimage. Funny, that his journey should continue on a completely different world, and it seems a terrible shame that she is not awake to see it. She would like Alisaie and Prompto both, and there is a part of him that yet holds out hope of having all of his students together again, to practice their arts in the yard outside of Alisaie and Prompto’s home.

One day, mayhap. He cannot let himself think otherwise.

It is not uncommon for there to be others in the stasis room, and the sounds of footfalls only warrant a cursory glance down the row of frozen and glowing glass. Color him surprised when he catches sight of an all-too familiar face. He figured Ardyn would have little need to come up here, if any at all, and yet there he is. ]

Taking a stroll?

[ X’rhun’s voice seems almost too loud in the quiet of the room, echoing over the soft hum of the stasis chambers. ]

[daemonized]

Of course. Is that not what the stasis room is for? To walk along the rows of those taken by sleep, and reminisce?

[It has the intonation of a joke, but it’s true enough. To return to this room is not unlike walking past islets of memory, familiar faces contained in glass as if they were nothing more than statuettes. Many of those from Eos had been asleep for so long that they might as well have been, still and silent, for Ardyn to glance over their faces, keen eyes critical, before moving on.

He has no real affection towards any of the encased, and yet he finds himself coming up here time and time again; the past has its hooks deep into Ardyn, and this is just another way that it manifests, these visits.

Ardyn stops, turning to look at the sleeping individual that X’rhun had been looking upon. His tone is airy and purposefully not weighted by anything sounding like nostalgia.]

There is no one to look over them now, with the station so empty. Do you think it’s a matter for concern?

action; who you gonna call

[verflair]

[ There’s something strange in the neighborhood.

X’rhun has seen dark magic in action, has barged into the lair of a necromancer or two, but usually after dispatching a handful of voidsent, that was pretty much the end of it. Something on this scale, the myriad spirits wandering the streets of the cities and everywhere in between, is far more than he ever expected to have to deal with. Discounting those ghosts that have gone mad with rage or grief, the rest of them are as normal people – they have problems that need solving, and X’rhun is nothing if not helpful.

He spends his days fetching lost heirlooms or tracking down loved ones with a sprit or two in tow. It’s the least he can do for these poor souls.

Today finds him in Olympia, doing much of the same. The spirit that most recently left X’rhun’s side had been looking for his wedding ring, an item that proved quite hard to track down. At least partway through his third scouring of Olympia’s marketplaces, X’rhun rather got the sensation he was being followed. Thankfully, his searching had turned up the ring at long last, allowing X’rhun’s latest charge to pass on and X’rhun to find a little out-of-the-way alcove to step into and wait for his stalker to make themselves known.

It doesn’t take them long to emerge – a local by the looks of her, though something about the way she moves suggests her limbs are not entirely her own. X’rhun has just enough time to surmise that this woman may have an unwanted passenger in the form of one of the spirits, his lips parting to ask if he can help her, when she surges forward. Her fingers clutch at his lapels and she yanks him toward her. Any protest he might have had are suddenly cut off when her mouth slots over his – this is a spirit with a very specific mission apparently.

It’s probably fine. At least no one is around to see this, right? ]

[daemonized]

[No one around to see it. Right.

There is someone around to see it. Consider it perfect timing (or perfectly bad timing) when Ardyn catches the sight just as he’s wandering by at a distance, the lips of a stranger pressed against X’rhun. It’s difficult to know the circumstances leading up to such a sight, though Ardyn is a clever man — he supposes that it doesn't take much, what with the state of things being as they are now. Possession and minds not their own; or maybe it was simpler than that, a kiss simply because X’rhun could be kissed. Reasons didn’t always have to have strange motivations behind them.

(He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t, he tells himself. But something rakes against his core at the sight, something that feels like bitterness wrapped up in a terrible kind of amusement. Makes his words like glass, makes him want to break something—)

Ardyn only walks forward, strides long, until he’s in earshot. A lilt to his tone, a thread of something else beneath it, eyes sharp and smile sharper.]

My, someone’s friendly today, aren’t they?

[Who’s he talking about? The woman or X’rhun? Your guess.]