daemonized | EL NYSA IC INBOX.

I cannot begin to wrap my head around how it is that there is a ten-year gap between you and everyone else, though I have experienced such a phenomenon myself, among those from mine own star.

[ Some unfathomable effect of the Storm, some quirk of the Natha. Paltry explanations at best, but he figures that the real reason is just as incomprehensible to him. ]

So, did you not get to confront him before Eos was lost?

No.

[Oh, there's that wave of bitterness again. Reminding him of how close he was to finally achieving what he wanted, after so many long years.]

He was to confront me in the Citadel's throne room. In the interim, I had summoned Ifrit to keep him busy, but-- well. Here we are now.

Thousands of years of waiting, all for naught.

[ He can't fathom what that must be like, either. ]

Ifrit, though? Funny, you're not the first person here to have told me they summoned a god -- Astral, Primal, whatever you wish to call it.

[All for naught. Yes, he's gotten to the core of the issue, though it's obvious enough with the explanation that Ardyn's given him.

His brow arches at that last bit, however.]

And who else here has summoned a god before?

[Not that he should be particularly surprised. Anything goes, really, when it comes to the other refugees of this place.]

Someone from home – [ he says it simply, spreading his hands. ] – summoned a Primal in an act of desperation. The whole of their story is not mine to tell, so I will leave it at that.

We remain friends, however.

[A little tidbit to be stored away for later, but not so prominent in his mind that he will press for the entire story.]

And you and I? Do you still call me friend after what you now know?

[ And here they are, at the true crux of the matter. X’rhun sighs, rests his elbows on the table to lace his fingers together in front of his face. ]

I am well aware of what you’ve just laid in front of me. It is as if I find myself sitting across from the Elder Primal himself, left to judge him for the destruction he has wrought.

[ And indeed, the comparison to Bahamut is not terribly far-fetched. ]

There is no denying your many sins, the lives you took in the name of vengeance or prophecy or whatever else, the pain you have caused, but in the end… your judgement is not mine to give. I do not like the things you have done, as you can imagine. To learn of all this… it makes me sad, makes me angry, but to cast you away seems wrong.

And I know, I know, you think I look at you and see some pitiable wretch, a monster, a puppet pulled along helplessly by the strings of fate and that I feel sorry for you. I don’t. I look at you and I see a man worth trying to save. I’d not have leapt in front of you if I thought otherwise.

Edited 2018-03-07 21:32 (UTC)

[He watches X'rhun, and his lips press into a thin line as he hears the other say that he is a man worth trying to save. That he is not pitied, but rather viewed as something salvageable, as if there was anything still left in that dark mire that is himself.

He isn't sure what wells up first. Exasperation, frustration, anger? A prickling of regret, as sharp as broken glass, jutting up in the wreckage of it all? Hate, even -- hate directed at his circumstances, both of the past and now. Irritation at the naiveté being tossed his way, the push and pull of others not being able to understand, and Ardyn unwilling to fully explain.

He hates all of it. He hates that he lives in a universe where he cannot rest, where he must keep existing as this awful thing, he hates himself for being cursed in this way, he wishes he could turn back the hands of time and just crush Eos into nothing, even before Noctis was born. At least, then, something would have been accomplished. More than just wallowing in a world that wasn't his, suspended in an oppressive limbo, while everyone else moved on without him.]

Then you're a fool. All of you are.

[He thinks of Prompto, his implications about humanity and how he had called it ridiculous. It was ridiculous. It still is.]

There is nothing worth saving. The sooner you realize that, the easier it will be for you.

I know well my own foolishness. You don’t have to tell me.

[ He is the sort of fool who believes in the good of others, who believes that no one is not worth saving. Who would fling himself in front of an immortal man to shield him. ]

What I don’t understand is you. You lied to me to, what? Prolong the inevitable? Now here I am, telling you that this is not the end you thought it to be, and you’re still pushing.

[Another assessment from X'rhun that is deadly accurate. Get too close to his core, and Ardyn knows not how to react, other than to push away. He hates being vulnerable, he always wants to be in control, in all things -- in information revealed, in leading a conversation to and fro. In his own level of comfort, which is beginning to wane in this little visit.]

Yes. To prolong the inevitable. We had fun, didn't we? Our quaint little chats, our daring adventures together. There was amusement to be found in that, I admit.

[Leave it to Ardyn to water it down into something as impersonal as "amusement".]

You may not see it, X'rhun, but it is an end. Because I ask you this -- if you want to continue to garner friendship between us, what is it that you expect from me?

[He cannot deliver it, he's sure.]

[ X’rhun’s brows knit together for a moment, ears pricking curiously. To hear it called “amusement” and little more stings a bit, truth be told, but he doubts that’s the whole of it. Another push. Another attempt at distance. ]

Just what do you think I would expect of you? I’m not asking you to move mountains for me, Ardyn. Was there something wrong with what we were doing before?

Edited 2018-03-08 03:41 (UTC)

No. Not wrong, exactly.

[There was nothing wrong with exploring, with talking, with simply being overly dramatic together. In truth, Ardyn had enjoyed it -- though he is many things, not all of them flattering, one thing that had not changed in a couple thousand years has been his sense of humor. He could indulge in it, in a shred of inanity, around X'rhun. It was a fine sort of distraction at the time.

But now-]

But knowing who I am, what I've done, you'll treat me the same as before? Do not think that'll be the case. There will be expectation from you now, I think, that I be better than what I am. I do not have it in me to give that.

[He wonders if he even has a willingness to.]

To say that I don’t look at you differently now would be a lie, but by that same token, I have had an inkling of what you are for a while now. You left me plenty of pieces, and I had but to put them together.

[ The sum of those parts, the whole that he is now faced with has surpassed his own expectations, true, but that does not mean it was wholly a surprise, either. And he has also been piecing together what few scattered bits he can in this conversation, as well. The things that Ardyn isn’t saying.

If he truly wanted an end to this… whatever it is, he’d have ended it himself instead of waiting for X’rhun to sever those ties.

He heaves a sigh, lifting his mug to his lips finally, only to discover the contents has gone lukewarm and he wrinkles his nose, setting it aside. ]

I have heard what I need to hear, from you and Prompto both, and I have made my choice, stubborn and foolish as it may be. From where I am, whatever it is that we have built remains standing. Should it crumble into dust, you may have the pleasure of saying “I told you so”.

Until then, I will call you friend.

When are you next patrolling?

[The frown only deepens. Only Ardyn Izunia would practically scowl at the idea of a friend remaining steadfast and refusing to give up on him so easily. But he can only see it as a waste of time, now that the truth is out. A way of just delaying the inevitable further.

He's sure that he'll be saying "I told you so" sooner rather than later.

Still, to Ardyn's credit, he gives no voice to these thoughts. If X'rhun wanted to try, then let him try. He would not change himself for the sake of someone else, no matter how pleasurable their company might be.]

Very well. If that is the path you choose to take. Simply do not be surprised when you discover it only leads directly off of a high cliff.

[A muscle in his jaw twitches, but he already knows what he wishes to say next.]

Did you mention my healing you to Prompto?

[He doesn't wish to really speak of it, but this is something he feels like he needs to know.]

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

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.

Questions? Very well. Meet me in the residential district.

[A more descriptive text regarding where to actually find him goes here, and at what time. He'll be waiting in the morning.]

[It's far too early to deal with Ardyn, frankly, but she supposes she did this to herself. So she's there waiting for him on the corner, bundled up against the chill, vivid red hair a contrast to all the black she's wearing.

That sounds like it might be a metaphor, but it isn't. It's just that she gets cold easily.]

All I've seen since the riots ended are guards strutting around, making certain people know that they're still there, and that further riots won't be tolerated. I hope my presence shan't cut into that.

[Nothing like sarcasm first thing in the morning. Rosalind sighs as she brings her mug up to her face. There's a lot she hates about this universe, but the invention of disposable and portable cups aren't one of them. Drinking hot tea on the go is a blessing, and one she savors.]

[His breath is warm against in the chill, though Ardyn does not shiver against the latter. His guard uniform does not possess the same amount of layers as he prefers, but seeing as he did not react to the cold, it hardly seemed to matter.

He greets her with his usual lopsided grin.]

I can still do plenty of strutting regardless of whether or not you're walking with me.

[Morning, noon, or night, Ardyn seems the same as always.]

That's assuring.

[She takes a step inwards, just a little closer to him, as they set off. Joking aside, they really are getting more looks than usual-- or at least, he is. Or at least, his uniform is. Whether they're assured looks or loathing ones she isn't certain, but it's a bit more attention than she wanted for this conversation.

Oh, well.]

You only gave me half a lesson, you know. During those riots.

[She focuses ahead, avoiding the occasional bit of burned wood or rubble in the street.]

Your pride will be your downfall, you told me. You assured me that sooner or later I'd shatter beneath it, that it was my fatal flaw. That I needed to learn to let go of it, or risk dying from it.

But you never once said what it was you thought ought to replace it.

[ It seems to X’rhun that this was the most peaceful way to end the conversation – he dares not push too much for fear that Ardyn will only push back harder. Better to admit to playing the fool than to call Ardyn out for wanting him to make the first move. ]

I mentioned that you had helped me, though I did not go into detail. Your tale remains yours to tell or to keep, as you see fit.

[The looks slide off of him, as expected. He continues as if it were nothing, going along his patrol route, ever unbothered.]

Now, that's not for me to tell you, is it?

[Strange, how she expected that much from him. Perhaps it was only half a lesson, but it was the only half that he could help her with.]

Tell me, Rosalind, why do you feel you are so prideful to begin with? Are you self-aware enough to give me an attempt at an unbiased answer?

...Good.

[That is a tale that he is not ready to share with hardly anyone, though if Prompto knew how to coax and prod in just the right way, Ardyn might be inclined to speak of it. But he doubts the boy can utilize words like tools, in the same manner that he can.]

The boy has- [He pauses, wondering if he wants to even say this much, be continues anyway.] He's been particularly stubborn about talk of humanity and the like. I do not need you to share that tale with him just so he can make implications all day long.

[It bloody well is for him to tell, or at least to offer his own opinion, which is more of what Rosalind's really after. And she opens her mouth to say so, except he continues on, and she ends up scowling.]

First of all, you can kindly end that patronizing tone of yours. I'm very well aware of why I act the way I do. Secondly, yes, I rather think that is an answer you owe me-- if nothing else, you might share your own blasé approach to life.

[Not that he's so careless, but he certainly puts on that he is. Rosalind pauses for a few seconds, and then goes on, her tone a little less heated.]

I'm prideful because it was a method to get what I wanted in a world that was hellbent on denying it to me.

I've told you how misogynistic my world was. Pride was a useful solution. I already had the intelligence and talent . . . if I acted as though I was the best, as though it was foolish to even consider doubting me, things turned in my favor. People were left in my wake. If I acted like I was the greatest, sooner or later I'd become so.

[Of course, there were downsides. No friends, no lovers . . . selfish, that's what people call her, and that's the least of it. She'd not been at all popular, but on the other hand, she had accomplished her goals, and one can't have everything.

She'd known what it was she wanted. And nothing comes for free.]

And on the opposite end of the scale . . . I don't know if you can understand it, Ardyn. Not without understanding the common thinking of my time. Women are-- were-- considered inferior in every respect. It wasn't an opinion, it was fact. Women were supposed to be sweet and loving and nurturing; they were supposed to be forbidden, the mysterious, the subtly sexual and primly pure other half that no man could possibly understand. And above all, they were supposed to be stupid.

So if I wanted to succeed in a field that was decidedly unfit for women, it meant I couldn't be a woman. I couldn't be-- I couldn't have those emotions. Not any of them. Being angry would mean I was irrational; being upset would become hysteria. Happiness meant I was flighty, but pride . . . they could call me selfish or stuck up or snobbish, but they couldn't deny my pride had a decent point of origin, because my inventions were that brilliant.

So. A display like Wyver, or the one you subjected me to . . . that would render me weak. It would mean the end of my career. To shatter my pride would to be to shatter my entire life, Ardyn.

[A few seconds pass. She adds more mildly:]

Was that self-aware enough, or shall I lean on Freud a bit more?

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text; early march

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