Not.. much has changed in a handful of days. A few different scents, likely lingering from a meal and the faint sulfurous stench of bomb, but overall.. similar enough. A few lights, but not all of them, a string of small glass bulbs on a wire draped across a low table, a good half the bulbs outright burst, several of the others glimmering faintly. The source of what that's supposed to be, likely the spellscroll lying nearby.
The source of his earlier anger, perhaps. The string of lights certainly wouldn't do a vast amount for say, reading illumination, but plenty for simple comfortable ambience. Were something small and explody not interfering.
The source of that interference is in the fireplace, tucked among the flickering flames and apparently dead to the world, each little puff of minute snore wavering the fire almost imperceptibly.
It's still warm. Very much so; if Elidibus still wore multiple layers it might well grow uncomfortable in short order. The bite of winter simply doesn't get much further than the foyer, everything else remains summer-warm. It wasn't precisely necessary, but Lahabrea felt it an indulgence that wasn't particularly costly.
The ascian himself waits with all apparent patience in what had once been an adjacent room but now only had a few sad looking eight-by-eight beams between it and the great room, simply seated cross-legged on the floor. Or more accurately on a braided, faded rug that had once been brilliantly colored by the patterns it still has; sunlight has long since ravaged its appearance but not apparently its comfort. He's still got his mask - one must be proper even if Elidibus kept forgoing such decency himself - and another set of dark, unadorned robes. After the failure of getting his string of lights working, he's obviously turned his attention to other things, in this case working on breaking down a chunk of amethyst into smaller but more useable parts. The long, heavy tail forces him into a leaned-forward posture that looks uncomfortable but given he hasn't done anything about it, surely must not actually be. The lighting is dim, but dim lighting had never been a problem for any of them before.
"You're late."
They never agreed on a time, Elidibus can't be late.
Yes, there are layers. Fortunately there is some leeway with the gear, to take off segments and still have clothes underneath. Nearly all of the protective pieces of a warrior's armor are quick to follow as Elidibus recognizes the signs of overheating. He'll be watching this time, although the bomb does seem to be thoroughly asleep.
As for lack of mask and robes.. the former he has. The latter? It's hard to just ask certain people. And to commission its creation by a tailor or a witch who knew more than the rudimentary basics would take time. And money.
"Would you have preferred me to be faster?" It had provided ample time to settle disruptive matters and arrange a place to meet Elidibus. "Do not hesitate to make such a request in the future. Though it will be some time it seems until I can once more have mastery of using the aether's flow to travel." Or 'magic' and 'teleportation' if you will use the local term.
As he speaks, Elidibus enters the darkened half the chamber and... squints. Another pointed reminder of what was lost. It used to make no difference, even in the darkest parts of darkness. Fortunately, there is some light from the other room that makes some details discernable.
No chairs or other furnishings than that rug. After a time, the Emissary chooses to settle into a seated position, cross-legged, on a portion of the area rug. At least while Lahabrea's still growing, there's room. Elidibus' eyes may not be able to see clearly, but he still manages gaze intently in the general area of the eyes behind the mask.
Or taking up tailoring, which Lahabrea is fairly sure is the better option. Sure, getting started on learning how to do something the mundane way takes time, but it's a great way to assure quality!
But for the time being it's fairly irrelevant. Lahabrea might disapprove of Elidibus' decision to wander around bare to the world, but it was in the end his choice to do so, and this time around it's certain it's a decision and not the accident of stumbling across one another. How quickly mortals can erode away any shred of decency..
There's only a grunt at whether or not he'd prefer Elidibus be faster, glancing up briefly. Of course, as a mage in this world, there's no changes at all in appearance. Just as hyur as he'd been the last time, and likely to stay that way until they got off this miserable world. It left him wondering not for the first time why his compatriots had qualified somehow for even a fraction of their power, while he lost everything. Had he not been dedicated to their cause? Had he not worked hard enough? Was there some fundamental flaw in his being that meant he was unworthy of anything that would mark him as an ascian, never mind the Speaker of the Convocation? Did his countless centuries as student and then teacher and then master of phantomology count for nothing?
Apparently so.
The only sign of less than pleasant thoughts is a slight straightening, once stretched out tail slowly winding around his legs and feet instead so he sits encircled in sanguine and gold. "If you insist. It is still unwise."
He gestures slightly with one of the little amethyst chips, less to draw attention to it and more because it's simply already in his hand. "You understand that while you might find the dissolution of self to be a worthwhile price to pay, I do not."
After all. Elidibus was still capable of fulfilling his role, capable of making some measure of good towards their purposes, even if it might take an inconvenient few years to regain any measure of skill therein. They did have the time, nigh unto eternity. What was a few decades in the face of that?
The profession of a tailor probably is the better option. But again, time. And certainly a lack of convenient specialist soul plaques to harvest knowledge from.
There's also other reasons. Being unable to simply teleport from one place to another comes with the risk of being seen in those selfsame robes. And while it is apparent his time as Ardbert to certain people will be coming to an end sooner than later, it is best to keep from being delayed. Especially when dealing with the Speaker's prickly nature and concern.
Practical or for deeper reasons, it is concern after all.
This world is cruel to many. And crueler still to others. But such is the nature of any world. Only those that had nothing to lose could probably see a blessing in their upheaval. Elidibus makes mental note to explore this further. But for now, talks.
"I understand your stance. Though I acknowledge what may happen at it's worst, I turned up nothing in my studies that suggests it will ever go so far as to dissolve who I am, even were I truly a fraction of myself." As most... all? mortals are. "Provided one does not Bond beyond the allotted 'three'." Here, Elidibus offers half a smile. Very wry, "And I have no interest nor intention, save with due discourse and evaluation with you, to even consider binding myself to another. Perhaps if one of our brethren were to show up." Certainly not Emet-Selch, who has his own Bonds already. Even then, the nature of a Witch-Witch-Monster Bond is not... nearly as stable.
Even the other Ascians might be relegated to receiving aid in finding appropriate Bonds. "For that possible eventuality, it would be prudent to know the full weight of what a Bond truly entails, besides. I suspect there may be another matter, as well. It may well make it easier to pluck you to my time, ere it prove possible to take advantage of this star's flow of time."
Elidibus does settle into a more intense, serious regard of the Speaker, then. "How long have you been fighting this alone, Lahabrea, that you struggle even against a hand which can give you succor from it?"
Perhaps there's even a hint of something which could once be called compassion in the Emissary's gaze.
Most of these bonds are working with other things than a primal. And primals are ever influenced by the things they are closely tethered to - be it the dreams and hopes of their worshipers or the simple directives of their summoning. But speaking such ... laying such a thought out in the open would be unthinkable. Elidibus was still Elidibus, and all else Zodiark would repair.
He remains silent on that matter, eyes narrowed behind his mask, gaze elsewhere besides Elidibus. Right now, Elidibus could maintain who he was.
Would that change, with his very being tied to someone else in a way so much more profound than mere worship?
The issue of how long he's been at this is set aside, as is the potential of other people's bonds. Certainly that would be a thing to prevent. If Lahabrea alone is a risk, others were absolutely out of the question!
"If you have any of the nonsense tales Emet-Selch spins about the future and our imminent abject failure," is the immediate, almost savage response, some of the feathers along the back of his tail lifting in a fluffy and thoroughly unthreatening hedge, "Then mayhap you should not be so eager to return to such a flawed time. He I understand, so desperate to abandon his duty and pretend the Warrior of Light is his old friend returned unto him but I expect better of you."
The amethyst clutched in his hands is briefly jabbed at Elidibus ... then set down .. and then a finger pointed instead. "Whereas I have Emmerololth seeking an alternate source of enough light should Ishgard come to failure, Loghrif and Mitron are on the very cusp of triggering the eighth rejoining, and Igeyorhm aiding in keeping Ishgard on its necessary path! Certainly the loss of Nabriales is inconvenient but he can be raised up to office again, if ANY of that spineless sniveling about how hopeless that future is is true, why return to such an utter waste of time?"
There are superior options.
Lahabrea jerks his hand back, as if he'd reached out and poked a flame, snatching up the bit of crystal again, expression fixed in a scowl and posture a bit hunched. "If it is all the Warrior of Light's doing and we have vastly underestimated the depths of Hydaelyn's gifts to her, then she needs be exterminated before she gains them, not after."
It's been a while, as mortals might recognize things. Compassion is an alien concept.
Elidibus looks wholly taken aback as Lahabrea begins his diatribe. But not at the way he's being addressed. As the Speaker begins to lay out the wholly reasonable and possibly much better notion of dialing back to Lahabrea's point. Where Emet-Selch was still conveniently pre-indisposed, should the one found on this world indeed prove lost. As unthinkable as that might be! Where he might not yet have approached the Warrior of the Light in... that place, what was it's name?
Why did he think it would be better, to bring Lahabrea and Emet-Selch to such a disastrously unstable point that he himself had had to step in and do what their incomplete brethren could not?
To be salvation for all their people, yes. That... that must have been it. To rescue Emet-Selch and Lahabrea from this world. Surely he would not abandon them. Perhaps it was the thought that their existence would be safer, in a place where they were not both still alive. Maybe.... that. Yes. Lahabrea will no doubt recognize the signs of tightening fist and deep, lost thought that has often had reason to grace the Emissary's presence when he had reason to try and find another fragment of lost memory. Trying and failing.
"You are correct, Lahabrea. And as it seems the Crystal Exarch has utilized the same trick of going back to guide the Warrior of Light to a better future so ably, then there is little reason to stick with the current path ourselves." He looks up, meeting whatever remains of the Speaker's ire with an objective, emotionless air. What passed for compassion no longer seems to exist. Though in truth, Elidibus is simply masking what remains of his inner turmoil.
"Still, the connection of the Bond would remain useful, in that I follow you." One way or the other, an anchor on the receiving end is undoubtedly helpful when finding the correct stretch of possibility. "And if you worry toward continued influence after making use of it, once we are returned to our world there would be no trouble doing away with it." And perhaps would be a good idea, since the risk of a true 'Prime' state would be stronger, then. It would be far better to merge with himself, in such a case.
"And whatever physical changes might remain. Though I would be surprised if at that point, you could not simply shed your form and return."
Who the Crystal Exarch is, is a complete mystery even though the man is in theory in the city right this very moment. Lahabrea had been thoroughly uninterested in gaining any details of some implied or outright stated failure of his, and that included the major players therein. Because the best way to avoid a problem, clearly, is to actually literally completely avoid it.
Such things will obviously just resolve themselves.
But being told he's right seems to mollify the dragonish ascian a fair bit - at the very least, his tail slowly unfluffs itself, and almost absently he works on patting the somewhat stuck feathers back down and smooth once more. Everyone likes to hear they're right, and he's inevitably so certain of his decisions that being told so simply reinforces that surety. If the future is bullshit, change it.
Simple. Straightforward.
And apparently this Exarch or whatever has already done exactly that, which was really just further proof that he had been right.
He was right. Of course he was, he always was.
Lahabrea closes his eyes against the distortion of the thought as it sinks slowly into a dull irritation, like an ember tucked under the ashes, still hot but not immediately visible. It doesn't strike him as odd, or ominous, that sudden absolute certainty that he was never wrong, even if he's usually quite well aware he's able to make mistakes and simply had to overcome them in the future. No. No, he wasn't wrong, about this or so much else, he was inevitably flawless, it was simply a matter of others finally recognizing that vital bit of reality. As Elidibus has now. They've contended with each other in the past, with wildly conflicting ideas on how to best achieve their goals, but now that the Emissary has all but bowed before his superior knowledge - and he could grant that, for surely he can allow some dignity to be maintained in what must be a galling admittance that Lahabrea had been right, and not Elidibus - he supposed he should acquiesce in turn to some insignificant request.
The distortion widens.
He turns one hand palm up, studying the tiny scales there. They're almost imperceptible, nearly the same color as his skin tone is, but there's the faintest hint of gold, like a glimmer of moth dust, in the lamplight. "It would be wise to follow. The impression of how things go without my forging a path is not a flattering one.."
The glitter can be seen, even by weak mortal eyes. But what it comes from is another matter. Certainly not amethyst. What is Lahabrea holding?
Well, it is no matter, for Elidibus realizes that somehow, he had entered a favorable territory. He will not waste the chance, though one can only hope that he treads carefully enough. For Lahabrea to incite to anger so suddenly is a bit unusual, particularly when the topic itself is an important matter to discuss. Sure, the Ascian can be insufferably arrogant. They all could be and Lahabrea had a track record of being hard to work with on top of that. But quick to anger was strikingly out of place. This is why the Emissary keeps watch, squinting if he must, for any shift to the Speaker's mood as he answers.
"Yes. In my time, both you and Emet-Selch have met their demise. I am..." alone, "...was on my way to the Crystal tower, wherein lay the one whose magicks would aid to empower me and destroy the Warrior of Light."
Though as Emet-Selch explained in his own way... that did not succeed either.
"So I will follow you back, and with the knowledge of the future, so I will come to aid in the past and right mistakes which were made." Elidibus seems content to do this. "Lest there be better place which presents itself, through which we can take further advantage." Lahabrea is correct now. But if an Ascian from earlier history were to appear. Say, Igeyorhm from before the Thirteenth was consumed. Well, all will be judged in due course. The Emissary's mind is firmly back on his mission.
"Regardless of the risk, will you now concede to a Bond with me?" Elidibus leans forward, arms braced against his lap. "I will keep your mind as it should be. And we can study the impact of this transformation upon an Ascian better, as well as test the limits of how well the Bond will allow us to follow one another when we return."
Half of what's said is simply dismissed, as if it's never heard at all. The idea of him actually dying was just so utterly inconceivable that he ... doesn't consider it.
"In truth if one may control the flow of time by which to simply step back to a former place, then our efforts would be best made in returning to the point of origin outright. If Hydaelyn never exists, then none of this mess ever becomes an issue." But it's said with a sense of a distant and unlikely plan for the moment, not something to be ruminated extensively on right now. A theory for another time and another place, when much else is accomplished first.
Twelve thousand years ago, the idea of executing Venat and her followers for simply trying something different would be unthinkable.
At this point, Lahabrea's fairly certain he wouldn't hesitate to outright eat them.
The matter of a bond is one Elidibus is pursuing relentlessly, isn't he? And with good reason, in theory ... but articulating his reservations in a persuasive way is, for the first time in a while, rather difficult for the Speaker.
"With reservations. Ones you will have to agree to beforehand."
"Such an idea could prove worthwhile to pursue. If, as you say, time can be manipulated so freely. No doubt it took a great deal of effort on the part of the Exarch and the Tower itself to perform such a feat. It would not be wise to jump through time blindly." An anchor would be best. "We shall at least have your time, if nothing more."
Or so Elidibus seems confident that now there is solid reasons, Lahabrea will concede to the Bond. Except there are reservations. Ones he will have to agree to. This does give the Emissary pause while a speculative look is accompanied by a small frown.
"I would hear them, then. What are your conditions."
He spends no time dwelling on the idea that his is the furthest back and thus somehow, the root of everything going wrong. There were other things at hand.
"The first is that I will break this bond if I detect any change I feel is significant in you. I know the creature I am becoming, I know its wants and impulses, and if you begin echoing them then my concerns are validated and I will make certain it doesn't alter you fundamentally." Significant changes - significant dragonish changes, not merely ordinary things. Most who go into bonds aren't primals.
He doesn't need to give the Dravanians another god to worship.
Lahabrea doesn't consider this negotiable. Elidibus might not recognize the difference in dragonish thoughts creeping in. He on the other hand is perfectly capable of recognizing them ... in others, anyway. Himself, that was harder. "And second, upon returning to our own world.. one time, or another, it matters not - you will retrieve your memory crystal, and you will inscribe on it what has happened since you last took it up ... and remind yourself of all that has come before."
A harder argument to make, but one that draws a sidelong look from the dragon. "I will hear no argument. You are firm in your convictions, but we are both forgetting that there is more than just duty. The reasons why are just as vital, and I would not lose them alongside all else."
"I can accept this condition," Elidibus says, on the matter of the first. It is reasonable enough. "Though I hope you will at least discuss your view with me first, rather than break it abruptly." It may be invaluable to thoroughly assess the matter. Elidibus knows what he is. And he has not been here nearly long enough to find out whether he would be fundamentally changed while in the mortal prison, much less should he be tied to Lahabrea's soul.
He should give merit to this proclamation, to be certain he is not diverted from his purpose.
The second condition is much harder to agree to. Elidibus actually flinches. It is a very small motion, but certainly one that can be noticed. The Emissary's features darken. A small part of him wants to ask how, exactly, he would record all things that have happened since he last used it. If he weren't consciously refraining from matters which might set off Lahabrea's new temper, he might well have given into the temptation.
It also forces him to listen to Lahabrea's reasoning. To remember the why behind the duty. It reminds him of the memories lost. The ones he can never regain because he never recorded them. Of the Warrior of Light and his friends asking why.
In the end, it boils down to his conviction and that this is a test of them. Lahabrea is treated to a long silence as the Emissary struggles, both with the requirement and himself, and annoyance with the Speaker for being put in such a situation. Finally, he bites out carefully his acquiescence.
"Very well. For all the good it might do in the end." After all, what good are memories he will only lose once again? Lahabrea never told him he would have to do it more than once. Very likely, Elidibus has no intention of doing more than has been literally asked on the matter. And sense Lahabrea is so insistent on these memories....
"I will require that you too, upkeep your memories. As you're so convinced it is necessary for me."
"That will depend quite a bit on what precisely happens." Which is to say no, he's not going to discuss it first, because that leaves opening for argument.
There was a certain tendency among their kind to think self-sacrifice is perfectly reasonable so long as the goal is noble enough, and he's not having any of that nonsense along. It's a simple matter to simply cut the Emissary free should he begin displaying anything too reptilian, though repairing the damage afterward could take some time. How would that even be accomplished? Hope one of their sundered brethren turn up and also are stable enough to provide a good base point?
Better than a mortal, he supposed.
One hand is negligently waved. "I know of your occasional disagreements with Emet-Selch over this, but they are irrelevant. My purposes are beyond merely having something to sulk over in between moments, but to provide a touchstone as to who we are, our thoughts and plans and ideas distinct from each other. The Coven does warn that a bond may share memories, feelings and more, and I question whether there will be a point where you do not know if a fleeting fragment of something half-remembered is mine or yours. Mayhap I will have a similar issue, it harms naught to be certain of the division." And if it's worse than mere fragments of a memory! Well, it wouldn't do to have Elidibus think he's taught classes at the academy, or Lahabrea convinced he's actually spent significant amounts of time finding Azem's perspective refreshing.
Emet-Selch's focus on remembering the pain and suffering they had gone through was not as pointlessly pathetic as he might make it out to be, but such a track is never going to work on Elidibus. If Lahabrea himself had no use for the misery and despair from long ago, how much less so someone who lived and breathed hope? Even if it might do them both good to remember. Names. Faces. The people and places that were once important. Things beyond pain and loss, little bits of happier times long buried. Did any of them remember the sound of laughter in Amaurot's streets?
He sets his hand upon the fragments of amethyst again, frowning. "I would not have a second Lahabrea running about, nor do I particularly desire to take on the role of Emissary, and I do not think Emet-Selch can be relied upon to provide clarity. Long ago we made those crystals for different purposes, but they will I think function well enough for this."
He'd rather not. He knows he himself has forgotten things, perhaps only the things he had once been passionate about BEYOND merely seeing worlds come to ruin in their goal, and being reminded of them would be unpleasant in the extremes.
He does not mention his certainty that there will come a point where all that stands between him and the mind of an animal is the unbreakable reminder that once he was so much more. If he dragged Elidibus down with him ...
Honestly, he'd expected no less of the first requirement and it's a reasonable risk to take, given the results expected. Elidibus sighs inwardly over the matter, but doesn't argue further. With luck, perhaps circumstance will dictate whether it's talked about or arbitrarily decided. There should be room enough for convincing later.
Then there's the matter that has the Emissary on tenterhooks and yes, Lahabrea is the subject of one of Elidibus' rare bouts of visible ire. Well, mostly rare. Of late, he's been showing emotion more often, mostly involving encounters with the Warrior of Light he knows. Or Warrior of Darkness, as it now goes. As he listens to the Speaker further elaborate on the reasons for this unpleasant venture, the tension begins to dissipate. It's a wholly reasonable notion and one he can compare to his own research to verify. Memories, themselves, do get exchanged in a bond. And it helps that Lahabrea says 'we'. So he fully intends to share in this farce. Not simply for the sake of some sentimental 'the reasons for the importance of their purpose' for all it will hurt to forget again but as a mere clinical sorting of whose memories belong to whom. To a point, anyway. After all there is a large swath of time Elidibus will simply be unable to verify.
Maybe it occurs to the Ascian that in itself would be easy enough to sort out on his end without the use of the stone. Just about everything from the beginning is gone, leaving anything else, apart from a few tattered fragments, solely Lahabrea's perspective. But it wars with the deep desire to really remember all that is lost, no matter how painful. To KNOW what more those fragments would say. Something he never would have given form to consider, had he not been brought to Aefenglom.
"Your reasoning is exemplary, Lahabrea," Elidibus answers, in a notably more calm state. "While it may be unpleasant, it will serve a purpose. Let me once again agree to your conditions, without rancor. I will be sure to steel my resolve, when the time comes."
Just... once. Just once wouldn't hurt too much. Right?
Lahabrea had not been part of those conversations, the pleading with Elidibus to regain a connection to his fragmented past. It hadn't been his business, and it hadn't affected his work, so he'd simply disregarded it though he knew about it happening. The finer details of why Elidibus refused eluded him, but it might not surprise him to know it was a lack of wanting to deal with that loss again.
But everything Amaurot would be recalled, even if the intervening thousands of years lay forgotten. There would be more of a struggle to determine what and when the rest outlined .. but he could deal with that when it arose, if he still had a mind to do so. Perhaps by then the dragon would be fully in control, and dragons were so certain of how flawless their memories were that they held grudges across centuries for things done by people long since dust. People who even through the effort of the Ascians, would not return. Not in their piteous fragmented states, those lives swept away by the experience of far older souls.
He has far more reservations than spoken about, but other than a thinning of the lips it's not really easy to tell there's lingering displeasure. This too was weakness, wasn't it? Having to rely on others to simply keep being able to string words together in a coherent fashion.
It was pathetic. How he himself from eras past would have laughed at his current plight, so helpless as to be undone by the will of something other than Zodiark Himself.
Elidibus hadn't laughed, not yet. But he wasn't much prone to those emotions to begin with, not anymore. He had other ways of making displeasure known, and Lahabrea still waits for the inevitability of it. "Mayhap confronting it directly will make it less unpleasant when the time comes," the ascian mutters, scrubbing a hand over the lower part of his face. "I have oft found terrible things to be less so when challenged outright, and not simply allowed to skulk about in the back of one's mind like starving jackals darting in to snap at whatever thoughts they can wound." But that wouldn't be contended with for quite some time yet, as the stone he possessed was strangely inert.. which means this place somehow muffled even that.
Most people do not find Lahabrea's methods of contending with difficulty to be things worth emulating. More fragile things, and people, tend to break. "... When. Are you insisting this bonding be done."
"Perhaps," Elidibus answers politely. There is no doubt he does not look forward to the experience one bit, beneficial or not. The Emissary is unaware at the moment that he has in some places broken skin where his fingers dig into the flesh of his palm. He had, after all, taken the gloves off when first entering. He'll notice eventually.
There are weaknesses and risks that Elidibus doesn't elaborate upon as well, so they are equal in that. Perhaps some are similar. Such as how in a mere year of this world and its Bonds, Emet-Selch has become so enamored with mortality as to perhaps be swayed away from the path and Zodiark's will. Though admittedly the impossibility of that last makes it far from conscious thought for now. But dare they think to wait for a mortal century or so? If one year did this, what would one hundred of them do?
The limits of his own body's, too. Some thoughts on which have been mostly dismissed as irrelevant; there will surely be ways to extend the lifespan, once Ascian ingenuity and experience has been applied. But also that he would, on a course of magic he most certainly will not abstain from, explode from the over-production of aether without a Bond...
"There is no sense in delaying it further, now that we've reached a consensus. In a few days this period of a new moon will be upon us and I doubt the Coven will be performing ceremonies that are not of the utmost urgency."
The native magic being weakened, the Mirrorbound's being harder to control, supposedly. It sounded a deadly combination for any spell craft which required tying two souls together and would have both sides of the scale in play. He doubts the Coven would truly appreciate what's at stake.
So... now, then? Elidibus is certainly getting to his feet and giving Lahabrea a questioning look to see if he will continue to concur.
One of the many, many, many reasons Lahabrea had no interest in tethering his soul to a mere mortal is that same lingering concern. As much as their compatriot had his gloom moments and could spend decades asleep, this ... this was completely unheard of, and thus had to be some external influence. He is inevitably wary.
There is a marked hesitance as Elidibus works on regaining his feet. 'Now' was ... inconvenient.
... It really wasn't.
Was this too a matter of faith? Not only that the degrading humiliation he's been faced with wouldn't somehow taint Elidibus too, but that the nascent witch could somehow spare him the worst of it? That even though nothing could prevent the warping of the vessel he wore, his soul could remain cleanly still ascian? They never were the shells they wrapped themselves in, this might be no different, if he could just ... keep his mind.
If the instincts that had driven even longer-changed dragons to try to kill each other over the city didn't likewise drown him out.
If.
Facing terrible things, indeed.
"...Very well."
It wasn't blind hope, there was precedent assuming things still worked the way they did with mortals, but it was perhaps the only hope he had, if laying his salvation at the feet of some hyur witch was as utterly unthinkable as it was. Eventually, he moves. It's not graceful, the tangle of robe and limb and tail, with the awkwardness of limbs and joints flexing in ways not yet familiar. Other things had changed, between a handful of days ago and now; the feet he balances on uneasily are no longer of a familiar plantigrade shape but fat-toed and starkly reptilian, easily spotted by the bright flash of color at the hem of his robes instead of solid, recognizable dark boots. Apparently rather recent indeed given how blunt he keeps the claws on his fingers, the new ones still come to wicked looking dangerous points. Whatever had shifted in his ankles and feet hasn't gotten higher yet, making movement problematic without cooperating knee joints and changed bone lengths in thigh and calf. He'll manage, but it won't be elegant.
Which is likely to be a severe affront to his ever-sensitive pride, but that would have to be dealt with.
Blissful is the darkness that prevents Elidibus' mortal form from seeing clearly the full extent of the changes. But he is watching and he does notice a few things. Light glinting from transformed feet. The awkwardness Lahabrea exhibits standing. Signs that his change is not a matter of years or decades, but shockingly fast. And thus too, the degradation of the Speaker's mental state.
Elidibus must impress upon a Coven witch that this is a matter of great importance, should any dare to suggest delaying matters. He nods to Lahabrea, not speaking of the matter, and turns to fetch his gear and set about donning it again for the journey.
An eye is kept on his fellow Unsundered during this time. The Emissary will not outright offer the indignity of supporting Lahabrea during their journey. But he will be ever near, keeping his own pace to the Speaker's and always being ready to catch him, should he start to fall. The matter of needing aid after all, seems the less appalling weakness than falling flat on one's face.
Their slow progress, yes. No amaro again, which in a way is fortunately, for she would not be likely capable of carrying both their weight far even grounded and her pace would be useless for the current circumstance. It has gotten on in the evening, as winter seasons bring darkness early still and so Elidibus had taken a lantern from Lahabrea's belongings once again, so he could light his their way. There would be an extravagant length of time in which to have doubts, second thoughts or general conversation.
Elidibus intends to give no consideration of second thoughts. He will remain firm, even if something is voiced. And as he agreed to the terms Lahabrea presented, he expects there should be none spoken of aloud.
Of doubts, the Emissary will do as he always does of late. Dismiss them as irrelevant. At least those voiced to himself. What Lahabrea might bring up will be addressed, as that is Elidibus' duty.
'Small talk' is not really their way. Especially his way. They meet for business or important matters, they go back to their tasks. It would surprise Elidibus, if Lahabrea wished to engage in something so personal. He will not.
Only physical aid, should it prove needed. And a tendency to switch position with the Speaker depending on the wind's direction, acting as something of a break to added chill.
When the Coven headquarters is finally reached, there is still plenty of activity. And why not? With vampire related Bonds and research to be had at all hours, there's surely a night shift. It is pleasing though, to know there won't be reason for delay. The interior may not be as overly warm as Lahabrea's place, but it is pleasant, thanks to ample enchantments. Elidibus need not take off his layers immediately, though the hood of his cloak is pulled down.
The two will be noticed not long after entry. How could one not notice Lahabrea and a warrior with a giant axe? Particularly the former. The power of a dragon, even one not fully transformed, is highly sought after. Most turn away with varying stages of disappointment on noticing Elidibus at the dragon's side. Or at least possess a good, healthy respect for a dragon's temperament. A few still look on with a hopeful air. Perhaps it is a Bonded pair looking for another. The Emissary ignores the stares.
An elderly Coven witch is on duty for reception and is quick to draw attention to himself. "Greetings and welcome. How may the Coven assist you today?"
At least Elidibus isn't going to make the Speaker address the mortal. Using his host body's natural tones and an example of good-hearted cheer, he addresses the receptionist. "We wish to form a Bond. Is there a witch available to conduct the ceremony?"
There's really no reason to chatter along the way as far as Lahabrea is concerned either. When one has forever, filling silent spaces with mindless conversation becomes tiresome somewhere after the two hundred year mark, and he hasn't really indulged in a long while. That Elidibus feels similarly is at least ... familiar.
More people could do well to learn the simple contentment in silence.
The only interruption is a good twenty minutes after they set out, stumbling and awkward, before he mutters a curse and steps sideways onto a less worn cobblestone street and spends a solid five minutes dragging his new talons across the stone, leaving deep grooves as he goes. But more importantly, those sharp, sticking tips are worn down or simply broken straight off. It's .. slightly easier going after that, or at least less stumbling; by the time they actually reach the other side of the city he's figured out better how to use that long rudderlike tail to aid a bit in balance.
It won't be entirely better until this misery's finished having its way with him, but it's somewhat less embarrassing.
While he does note that Elidibus keeps changing position based on where the wind is, he says nothing about it. He can feel the wind through his robes and the clothes underneath, the cold simply didn't bite the way it used to. The only blessing, he supposed, for the layer of feathers and scales, they seemed to work wonders as insulators.
The certainty this is not the best of ideas remains, aided not at all by the attention garnered as they finally arrive at the needed destination. He still strikes an ominous figure, fluffy dragon bits aside, and it's a stark contrast to Elidibus' feigned good cheer and Ardbert act, a silent and disapproving red-masked, bad tempered shadow.
Elidibus is allowed his act.
It is after all, important.
"Not the sort of witch inclined to officiate weddings. When we leave I intend to eat him."
Lahabrea's rasped addition to 'Ardbert's' pleasant and friendly request is anything but equally friendly and pleasant, and one of the younger witches off to the side chokes on his evening tea, coughing and giggling and quickly excusing himself before it gets any worse. Bonds don't kill each other, so obviously it's macabre humor, no matter how utterly seriously it's said.
The Speaker doesn't so much as twitch a feather at his now more distant giggles. "I want that one, if he knows the spell," he adds, almost as an afterthought.
Through the long session of scraping talon on stone, Elidibus awaits. But without correction on the matter of dragon susceptibility to cold and wind, he will continue his attempts at lessening the impact. It's not unreasonable, with the information he has so far. An extremely warm house and then yet again sleeping close to a boiler for the extra warmth on top of it. It does suggest a certain preference to heat rather than chill. Just a slight crossing of wires between naga vulnerability and dragon perhaps. Misguided, but altruistic for the most part and a sign that he's at least comprehending 'cold' now.
Upon arrival and the subsequent events that follow, Elidibus slowly turns and looks up at Lahabrea, fixing him with a long look that might have a measure of its own disapproval. The elderly receptionist is given something of a fright by the absolute seriousness of the manner in which the dragon expresses his intentions. "I... I.. oh." Perhaps he too comes to the conclusion of it being a macabre joke. Not so much in the face of the witch who spit out his tea, but in the calm manner by which Elidibus reacts. He inhales and exhales to calm himself, before choosing to move on like a true professional.
"Liam? Why, he certainly knows the spell and I can see if he has time. I hope he has not offended you in any way, however," the receptionist studies both Elidibus and Lahabrea. Mostly Lahabrea, as if trying to scry the level of danger Liam might be in. There may still be giggling to be heard. So it may actually be quite a lot of danger.
"We understand the importance of the ceremony," 'Ardbert' interjects. DON'T WE, LAHABREA? He seems to have adopted a wry smile once he turned back to the witch. "I will make sure no witch who conducts it comes to lasting harm."
Keyword: Lasting.
"Ah, then yes. And if I may, you two are Mirrorbound, lest my eyes deceive?" One is undergoing a Monster's transformation and thus not a native, on top of dragons being rare as it is. The other is wearing gear and bearing a weapon in a fashion not typical to Geardagas and besides, Elidibus did attend an orientation not long ago. He stood out a bit with the amaro. There will, of course, be a nod of affirmation from the Emissary.
"Liam handles many such circumstances. Let me send a message then." The elderly witch picks up the pen from the inkwell and writes out a missive to paper. He folds it to the rough shape of a bird whilst murmuring words of an incantation, at the end of which transforms the into a small glowing sparrow-shaped creature. "To Liam you go," the receptionist commands and the bird takes its short flight with the requested conditions to find out if Liam is indeed available.
Elidibus is not the first person Lahabrea has said he intends to eat.
He will not be the last.
"I am not offended," is the only thing the ascian actually has to add to what he's already said, which may or may not be reassuring. Certainly dragons had prickly senses of pride and were often temperamental, but if he's agitated by the occasional giggle that can still be heard, there's really little sign of it, even where masks and robes don't disguise. Maybe it really is safe.
Or as safe as anything gets around Bringers of Chaos. And now there isn't just one of them, tamed by faith in mortals.
Now there's three, and two are far less kindly disposed.
As the little bright message wings off, it is watched with brief interest - not unlike some things he'd once used, long, long ago. But there was little use for them lately, and even less so now that he COULDN'T. But it seems the message does find where it's going, because rather quickly that coughing, giggling young witch turns up again, doing his best to straighten out his appearance as quickly and neatly as he can. He could be any one of hundreds of men in the city, unremarkable in appearance, tousle-haired and bright eyed, with a scattering of freckles and a genuine smile that shows a lone missing tooth to one side.
"Please accept my apologies, sirs. I would be delighted to see you both Bonded! And so soon after your arrival, didn't I see you in the recent orientation class? Please come this way." It is fairly obvious these two aren't overflowing with love for each other, so it's not one of those Bonds, and that's just fine - it seems Liam's not about to wait long, waving them to follow him. Lahabrea considers this for a long moment before actually doing as bidden, still quiet. "For formality's sake, you do understand what Bonding is, and the step you are about to take? If either of you are being coerced or are unwilling, the magic will not work."
It does have the sense of formality - but at least the Coven is intelligent enough to ask, especially with those so obviously newly arrived.
But Liam's also only waiting for the inevitable affirmative, whereupon he plows ahead; while his voice is carefully modulated, his gestures are wide and sweeping, and he seems as delighted as he said he was. It doesn't take long to reach a quiet side room for them; it's fairly nicely appointed, but doesn't have the sense of lavish celebration that say ... a romantic bond might otherwise be ushered into. "I will be tethering your magical signatures to each other, the very essences of your beings. This will not be painful, but it may be a little disorienting if you've never experienced something like it. If at some point in the future you so choose, the bond may be dissolved; it is not permanent unless you wish it to be. But as I am certain you both have heard before, the benefits are enormous to both of you! As you've chosen to take this step, I'm sure you're both well aware."
Soft blue-violet light begins burning a circle into the floor at a gesture from the young witch. "Please step inside once you are ready to confirm willingness to bind yourself to your partner, and join hands. ..Er, ungloved would be ideal. If you have vows prepared, you may recite them."
Wait, vows?
They need vows? Lahabrea pauses just on the other side of the circle, underlit by the glowing magic. "Is that necessary?"
"...Um. Not. ... Precisely as such, no, but it's encouraged."
Elidibus is far more indifferent to the message's existence. A glance maybe, and a study of the casting itself as though seeking to learn by observation. But the bright bird brings no joy, and no memory. It seems tonight his pretense of mortality only extends to speaking capacity. But with Lahabrea attracting most of the attention, any lack in his acting ability will probably go unnoticed for the most part. The answer which follows Liam's question is spoken good-naturedly enough, though its actual content is... pragmatic.
"Yes, I have not been long in this world. My colleague, whom I've known from before, has been here longer. After a discussion, we saw no reason to delay a Bonding any further." This is definitely not romantic, though it is pretty much the truth. He follows after the other witch and the dragon.
A slight smile follows his question. "I have looked into the matter thoroughly. Unless my companion suddenly feels otherwise, then you can be assured we are neither coerced or unwilling to proceed." Elidibus seems to sober a bit. "If the truth is otherwise, then we must simply revisit the discussion until we can proceed." The Emissary doesn't look toward Lahabrea in any significant way. He simply presumes the Speaker is willing and uncoerced, or that they will need to retreat and talk more about it. After all, what other choice is really left to them? One hinges on another Ascian chancing to be brought forth. The other, a possibility that is abhorrent to them both.
Does becoming the vessel for the will of a God count for similarity? Perhaps not. But there is a brief flit of amusement across Elidibus' unmasked features as he thinks of whether anything will top the sensation of that moment, no matter how different. There are things one does not ever forget. He does nod in acceptance of the warning, but gives nothing else. Perhaps a glance to Lahabrea, simply because of the knowledge of what happened shortly before the Speaker's demise. But Lahabrea himself would not know, would he?
Elidibus steps to the edge of the circle and likewise halts. Wait, did Liam say ungloved? The Ascian looks closely for any signs that this was in error. Vows, too. They're encouraged, and this world has its magic couched with incantation more often than not. So there might be some merit in a few basic words even if tedious. But... "I understand the merit of vows. We could simply repeat the basic intent behind our goal. But.... join hands?" Join ungloved hands at that? Stop looking at the guy like he just said the rudest thing, Emissary. So Elidibus looks toward Lahabrea, to see if his colleague had indeed heard the same thing.
Edited (This called for the taken aback icon.) Date: 2021-01-13 04:59 am (UTC)
Lahabrea's tail gives a lone, brief, amused swish at the idea that anyone could possibly compel him to do something he didn't actually want to. If he really had no interest at all, he wouldn't have made the long and miserable walk here! It did well enough for the Coven's efforts though - surely there were those that were coerced or forced, now and again, by some domineering or guilt-causing hypothetical partner. "I do not think our current arrangement requires alteration."
There is always, of course, a 'yet' on there.
He knows nothing of what happens with Igeyorhm mere hours after his disappearance, and he has not asked. Certainly some people in this city would be glad to tell him if it would twist a knife somewhere, but he's disinclined to seek out some flawed and obviously distorted future even by way of knowledge! It's for the best, really. That defeat was ... in some ways, worse than this humiliation was.
Better to deal with the intricacies of some foreign spellcraft. He could manage vows easily enough in some measure, if only to satisfy the demands of magecraft, and while the rest is certainly odd to think about it can't be required without reason either. "Touch enhances some of our own magic," he points out mildly, "Making the transfer of aether quicker and cleaner. Pray don't claim to be concerned about decency now after running around bare faced and dressing like that at least since arriving here."
Liam considers the way Elidibus is dressed for a long silent moment. The implication in Lahabrea's words was clearly that somehow Elidibus is outright indecent, but .... it looks ... pefectly ordinary to him? And rather well suited to winter, at that. "Er."
He's young enough to be thrown off by this sort of thing, clearly, but scrambles to regain composure. "Ah, er, yes, that exactly. You'll be bound by your magic itself shortly, surely you can tolerate touching each other for a short time..?" His tone is one slightly of pleading. "It really does make things go quite a bit easier."
One hand is offered, the smile beneath Lahabrea's mask a thin twist of irony. "Come then, let us see this done. We daily make promises and swear oaths and drive relentlessly to return to us what was lost, to soothe the suffering of eons and the voices of millions. What is one more? Let us add this tiny victory to the list of the seven that have shaken the firmament and reminded would-be Goddesses that we have not yet been broken and defeated." Should Elidibus take the offered hand - the glitter of earlier dusted gold is easier to understand, his fingers and palm are rough with minute, delicate-seeming scales. "This star will not drive us down to dust when all we have endured til now has not."
Touch can also be done with gloves! And certainly no one expects Elidibus to remember moments when... ah yes, there's that familiar sign of brief confusion where the Emissary tries to piece his gut reaction with some old memory and will fail. What was it that much of an issue, really? They did what they needed to do, Ascians, for the goal they all shared.
Elidibus straightens up and begins to take off his gloves. Lahabrea is given an even look for his reminder about the state of his dress. Yes, the face of the warrior he'd taken host of was bare, but he had at least left on the cloak for some semblance of robes. Only the hood had been pulled down and it's not going to be drawn back up. The thick gloves are tucked around a belt at his waist.
He steps into the circle and reaches out with both hands. One clasps the other Lahabrea proffered, feeling the scales underneath and the blunt talons curling about, undoubtedly with some care. He doesn't flinch over that. His other hand... waits like a counter offer. And when he speaks, it as if to answer the words of his fellow Ascian with his own vow. And it is with the voice of the Emissary himself rather than the mortal.
"I will remain steadfast to my duty and role. No physical change, nor mental state will prevent me from reaching out and offering succor those who are my charge in this long night. For I am the Emissary, to bring the will of our God, hopes and salvation of our people, our star. We will return. We will succeed. This is my promise to you."
Liam asked for vows, for tactile connection. And he got them.
Liam doesn't judge people on their vows, or how they choose to hold hands, or what they mean to each other, he's here to do his job! And share a little bit in the joy of a bond, even if peripherally and even if the two involved don't quite know what they're in for yet. It was always wonderful, surely! And this time was ... not as odd as some other things he's seen, so the young witch keeps his mouth SHUT.
He simply waits until both are in the circle of magic, and are as prepared as any may hope to get. No sooner does Lahabrea, with a sigh, take the other offered hand in his own, that Liam sets to work.
Lahabrea can't sense magic and aether the way he used to. He can't see or experience the same way the feeling of having someone draw on his very soul with an ease that feels strange and practiced, as if it has happened countless times before, as if they were in the hands of someone as old and familiar with this as they were and not the mid-twenties enthusiastic youngster they were actually dealing with. It's a deliberate choice on Liam's part to add the tiniest of additional power to it so the spell is visible to both monster and untrained witch, a reaching tendril of pale luminescence to wind around first Elidibus and then Lahabrea from the ground up, almost vinelike, spreading, entangling, moving inward to twine around what they called magical essence but everyone else called a soul and gently wind two separate and distinct presences together somewhere in the middle in braiding loops.
The faint ribbon of pale luminescence stretched between them stains darker towards a familiar purply obsidian rapidly - how could it not, with both so intimately sworn to the service of the God of Darkness? All it is, is another thing to bind them - on Lahabrea's end a sanguine undercurrent, like runners of fire beneath, the network of magical threads on Elidibus' edged in muted cerulean, changing to a shade of dark violet somewhere in the middle as the ribbons of bond meet and then tangle together. First merely sorcery, and then the incursion of someone else's emotion. Faint or strong, that depends on the newly bonded pair.
The wash of darkness remains. It always will.
The illusory light fades, but the connection that simply hadn't been there before doesn't.
There is no sudden unexpected awareness of another's emotions as strong as his own, he can't sense or hear Elidibus' thoughts or memories, just the faintest certainty of other and the connected feelings therein. It's strangely familiar, in a way that touching some mortal's soul never could be.
But.
For the first time in weeks, the almost intolerable drowning tide of fury and hatred that has boiled beneath the surface of every thought and action, the insufferably fragile temper that has edged every thought and action, harder and harder to resist, harder to strangle back into anything like common decency and breaking like the most fragile skim of ice every time the full moons encroached..
For the first time in an eternity of bitter, solitary struggle: stillness.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-01-11 01:49 am (UTC)The source of his earlier anger, perhaps. The string of lights certainly wouldn't do a vast amount for say, reading illumination, but plenty for simple comfortable ambience. Were something small and explody not interfering.
The source of that interference is in the fireplace, tucked among the flickering flames and apparently dead to the world, each little puff of minute snore wavering the fire almost imperceptibly.
It's still warm. Very much so; if Elidibus still wore multiple layers it might well grow uncomfortable in short order. The bite of winter simply doesn't get much further than the foyer, everything else remains summer-warm. It wasn't precisely necessary, but Lahabrea felt it an indulgence that wasn't particularly costly.
The ascian himself waits with all apparent patience in what had once been an adjacent room but now only had a few sad looking eight-by-eight beams between it and the great room, simply seated cross-legged on the floor. Or more accurately on a braided, faded rug that had once been brilliantly colored by the patterns it still has; sunlight has long since ravaged its appearance but not apparently its comfort. He's still got his mask - one must be proper even if Elidibus kept forgoing such decency himself - and another set of dark, unadorned robes. After the failure of getting his string of lights working, he's obviously turned his attention to other things, in this case working on breaking down a chunk of amethyst into smaller but more useable parts. The long, heavy tail forces him into a leaned-forward posture that looks uncomfortable but given he hasn't done anything about it, surely must not actually be. The lighting is dim, but dim lighting had never been a problem for any of them before.
"You're late."
They never agreed on a time, Elidibus can't be late.
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Date: 2021-01-11 02:52 am (UTC)As for lack of mask and robes.. the former he has. The latter? It's hard to just ask certain people. And to commission its creation by a tailor or a witch who knew more than the rudimentary basics would take time. And money.
"Would you have preferred me to be faster?" It had provided ample time to settle disruptive matters and arrange a place to meet Elidibus. "Do not hesitate to make such a request in the future. Though it will be some time it seems until I can once more have mastery of using the aether's flow to travel." Or 'magic' and 'teleportation' if you will use the local term.
As he speaks, Elidibus enters the darkened half the chamber and... squints. Another pointed reminder of what was lost. It used to make no difference, even in the darkest parts of darkness. Fortunately, there is some light from the other room that makes some details discernable.
No chairs or other furnishings than that rug. After a time, the Emissary chooses to settle into a seated position, cross-legged, on a portion of the area rug. At least while Lahabrea's still growing, there's room. Elidibus' eyes may not be able to see clearly, but he still manages gaze intently in the general area of the eyes behind the mask.
"Shall we continue our talk of earlier?"
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Date: 2021-01-11 11:59 am (UTC)But for the time being it's fairly irrelevant. Lahabrea might disapprove of Elidibus' decision to wander around bare to the world, but it was in the end his choice to do so, and this time around it's certain it's a decision and not the accident of stumbling across one another. How quickly mortals can erode away any shred of decency..
There's only a grunt at whether or not he'd prefer Elidibus be faster, glancing up briefly. Of course, as a mage in this world, there's no changes at all in appearance. Just as hyur as he'd been the last time, and likely to stay that way until they got off this miserable world. It left him wondering not for the first time why his compatriots had qualified somehow for even a fraction of their power, while he lost everything. Had he not been dedicated to their cause? Had he not worked hard enough? Was there some fundamental flaw in his being that meant he was unworthy of anything that would mark him as an ascian, never mind the Speaker of the Convocation? Did his countless centuries as student and then teacher and then master of phantomology count for nothing?
Apparently so.
The only sign of less than pleasant thoughts is a slight straightening, once stretched out tail slowly winding around his legs and feet instead so he sits encircled in sanguine and gold. "If you insist. It is still unwise."
He gestures slightly with one of the little amethyst chips, less to draw attention to it and more because it's simply already in his hand. "You understand that while you might find the dissolution of self to be a worthwhile price to pay, I do not."
After all. Elidibus was still capable of fulfilling his role, capable of making some measure of good towards their purposes, even if it might take an inconvenient few years to regain any measure of skill therein. They did have the time, nigh unto eternity. What was a few decades in the face of that?
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Date: 2021-01-11 06:25 pm (UTC)There's also other reasons. Being unable to simply teleport from one place to another comes with the risk of being seen in those selfsame robes. And while it is apparent his time as Ardbert to certain people will be coming to an end sooner than later, it is best to keep from being delayed. Especially when dealing with the Speaker's prickly nature and concern.
Practical or for deeper reasons, it is concern after all.
This world is cruel to many. And crueler still to others. But such is the nature of any world. Only those that had nothing to lose could probably see a blessing in their upheaval. Elidibus makes mental note to explore this further. But for now, talks.
"I understand your stance. Though I acknowledge what may happen at it's worst, I turned up nothing in my studies that suggests it will ever go so far as to dissolve who I am, even were I truly a fraction of myself." As most... all? mortals are. "Provided one does not Bond beyond the allotted 'three'." Here, Elidibus offers half a smile. Very wry, "And I have no interest nor intention, save with due discourse and evaluation with you, to even consider binding myself to another. Perhaps if one of our brethren were to show up." Certainly not Emet-Selch, who has his own Bonds already. Even then, the nature of a Witch-Witch-Monster Bond is not... nearly as stable.
Even the other Ascians might be relegated to receiving aid in finding appropriate Bonds. "For that possible eventuality, it would be prudent to know the full weight of what a Bond truly entails, besides. I suspect there may be another matter, as well. It may well make it easier to pluck you to my time, ere it prove possible to take advantage of this star's flow of time."
Elidibus does settle into a more intense, serious regard of the Speaker, then. "How long have you been fighting this alone, Lahabrea, that you struggle even against a hand which can give you succor from it?"
Perhaps there's even a hint of something which could once be called compassion in the Emissary's gaze.
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Date: 2021-01-11 07:36 pm (UTC)He remains silent on that matter, eyes narrowed behind his mask, gaze elsewhere besides Elidibus. Right now, Elidibus could maintain who he was.
Would that change, with his very being tied to someone else in a way so much more profound than mere worship?
The issue of how long he's been at this is set aside, as is the potential of other people's bonds. Certainly that would be a thing to prevent. If Lahabrea alone is a risk, others were absolutely out of the question!
"If you have any of the nonsense tales Emet-Selch spins about the future and our imminent abject failure," is the immediate, almost savage response, some of the feathers along the back of his tail lifting in a fluffy and thoroughly unthreatening hedge, "Then mayhap you should not be so eager to return to such a flawed time. He I understand, so desperate to abandon his duty and pretend the Warrior of Light is his old friend returned unto him but I expect better of you."
The amethyst clutched in his hands is briefly jabbed at Elidibus ... then set down .. and then a finger pointed instead. "Whereas I have Emmerololth seeking an alternate source of enough light should Ishgard come to failure, Loghrif and Mitron are on the very cusp of triggering the eighth rejoining, and Igeyorhm aiding in keeping Ishgard on its necessary path! Certainly the loss of Nabriales is inconvenient but he can be raised up to office again, if ANY of that spineless sniveling about how hopeless that future is is true, why return to such an utter waste of time?"
There are superior options.
Lahabrea jerks his hand back, as if he'd reached out and poked a flame, snatching up the bit of crystal again, expression fixed in a scowl and posture a bit hunched. "If it is all the Warrior of Light's doing and we have vastly underestimated the depths of Hydaelyn's gifts to her, then she needs be exterminated before she gains them, not after."
It's been a while, as mortals might recognize things. Compassion is an alien concept.
no subject
Date: 2021-01-11 08:05 pm (UTC)Why did he think it would be better, to bring Lahabrea and Emet-Selch to such a disastrously unstable point that he himself had had to step in and do what their incomplete brethren could not?
To be salvation for all their people, yes. That... that must have been it. To rescue Emet-Selch and Lahabrea from this world. Surely he would not abandon them. Perhaps it was the thought that their existence would be safer, in a place where they were not both still alive. Maybe.... that. Yes. Lahabrea will no doubt recognize the signs of tightening fist and deep, lost thought that has often had reason to grace the Emissary's presence when he had reason to try and find another fragment of lost memory. Trying and failing.
"You are correct, Lahabrea. And as it seems the Crystal Exarch has utilized the same trick of going back to guide the Warrior of Light to a better future so ably, then there is little reason to stick with the current path ourselves." He looks up, meeting whatever remains of the Speaker's ire with an objective, emotionless air. What passed for compassion no longer seems to exist. Though in truth, Elidibus is simply masking what remains of his inner turmoil.
"Still, the connection of the Bond would remain useful, in that I follow you." One way or the other, an anchor on the receiving end is undoubtedly helpful when finding the correct stretch of possibility. "And if you worry toward continued influence after making use of it, once we are returned to our world there would be no trouble doing away with it." And perhaps would be a good idea, since the risk of a true 'Prime' state would be stronger, then. It would be far better to merge with himself, in such a case.
"And whatever physical changes might remain. Though I would be surprised if at that point, you could not simply shed your form and return."
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Date: 2021-01-11 09:04 pm (UTC)Such things will obviously just resolve themselves.
But being told he's right seems to mollify the dragonish ascian a fair bit - at the very least, his tail slowly unfluffs itself, and almost absently he works on patting the somewhat stuck feathers back down and smooth once more. Everyone likes to hear they're right, and he's inevitably so certain of his decisions that being told so simply reinforces that surety. If the future is bullshit, change it.
Simple. Straightforward.
And apparently this Exarch or whatever has already done exactly that, which was really just further proof that he had been right.
He was right. Of course he was, he always was.
Lahabrea closes his eyes against the distortion of the thought as it sinks slowly into a dull irritation, like an ember tucked under the ashes, still hot but not immediately visible. It doesn't strike him as odd, or ominous, that sudden absolute certainty that he was never wrong, even if he's usually quite well aware he's able to make mistakes and simply had to overcome them in the future. No. No, he wasn't wrong, about this or so much else, he was inevitably flawless, it was simply a matter of others finally recognizing that vital bit of reality. As Elidibus has now. They've contended with each other in the past, with wildly conflicting ideas on how to best achieve their goals, but now that the Emissary has all but bowed before his superior knowledge - and he could grant that, for surely he can allow some dignity to be maintained in what must be a galling admittance that Lahabrea had been right, and not Elidibus - he supposed he should acquiesce in turn to some insignificant request.
The distortion widens.
He turns one hand palm up, studying the tiny scales there. They're almost imperceptible, nearly the same color as his skin tone is, but there's the faintest hint of gold, like a glimmer of moth dust, in the lamplight. "It would be wise to follow. The impression of how things go without my forging a path is not a flattering one.."
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Date: 2021-01-11 09:59 pm (UTC)Well, it is no matter, for Elidibus realizes that somehow, he had entered a favorable territory. He will not waste the chance, though one can only hope that he treads carefully enough. For Lahabrea to incite to anger so suddenly is a bit unusual, particularly when the topic itself is an important matter to discuss. Sure, the Ascian can be insufferably arrogant. They all could be and Lahabrea had a track record of being hard to work with on top of that. But quick to anger was strikingly out of place. This is why the Emissary keeps watch, squinting if he must, for any shift to the Speaker's mood as he answers.
"Yes. In my time, both you and Emet-Selch have met their demise. I am..."
alone, "...was on my way to the Crystal tower, wherein lay the one whose magicks would aid to empower me and destroy the Warrior of Light."Though as Emet-Selch explained in his own way... that did not succeed either.
"So I will follow you back, and with the knowledge of the future, so I will come to aid in the past and right mistakes which were made." Elidibus seems content to do this. "Lest there be better place which presents itself, through which we can take further advantage." Lahabrea is correct now. But if an Ascian from earlier history were to appear. Say, Igeyorhm from before the Thirteenth was consumed. Well, all will be judged in due course. The Emissary's mind is firmly back on his mission.
"Regardless of the risk, will you now concede to a Bond with me?" Elidibus leans forward, arms braced against his lap. "I will keep your mind as it should be. And we can study the impact of this transformation upon an Ascian better, as well as test the limits of how well the Bond will allow us to follow one another when we return."
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Date: 2021-01-11 10:14 pm (UTC)"In truth if one may control the flow of time by which to simply step back to a former place, then our efforts would be best made in returning to the point of origin outright. If Hydaelyn never exists, then none of this mess ever becomes an issue." But it's said with a sense of a distant and unlikely plan for the moment, not something to be ruminated extensively on right now. A theory for another time and another place, when much else is accomplished first.
Twelve thousand years ago, the idea of executing Venat and her followers for simply trying something different would be unthinkable.
At this point, Lahabrea's fairly certain he wouldn't hesitate to outright eat them.
The matter of a bond is one Elidibus is pursuing relentlessly, isn't he? And with good reason, in theory ... but articulating his reservations in a persuasive way is, for the first time in a while, rather difficult for the Speaker.
"With reservations. Ones you will have to agree to beforehand."
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Date: 2021-01-11 11:42 pm (UTC)Or so Elidibus seems confident that now there is solid reasons, Lahabrea will concede to the Bond. Except there are reservations. Ones he will have to agree to. This does give the Emissary pause while a speculative look is accompanied by a small frown.
"I would hear them, then. What are your conditions."
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Date: 2021-01-12 12:17 am (UTC)"The first is that I will break this bond if I detect any change I feel is significant in you. I know the creature I am becoming, I know its wants and impulses, and if you begin echoing them then my concerns are validated and I will make certain it doesn't alter you fundamentally." Significant changes - significant dragonish changes, not merely ordinary things. Most who go into bonds aren't primals.
He doesn't need to give the Dravanians another god to worship.
Lahabrea doesn't consider this negotiable. Elidibus might not recognize the difference in dragonish thoughts creeping in. He on the other hand is perfectly capable of recognizing them ... in others, anyway. Himself, that was harder. "And second, upon returning to our own world.. one time, or another, it matters not - you will retrieve your memory crystal, and you will inscribe on it what has happened since you last took it up ... and remind yourself of all that has come before."
A harder argument to make, but one that draws a sidelong look from the dragon. "I will hear no argument. You are firm in your convictions, but we are both forgetting that there is more than just duty. The reasons why are just as vital, and I would not lose them alongside all else."
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Date: 2021-01-12 01:49 am (UTC)He should give merit to this proclamation, to be certain he is not diverted from his purpose.
The second condition is much harder to agree to. Elidibus actually flinches. It is a very small motion, but certainly one that can be noticed. The Emissary's features darken. A small part of him wants to ask how, exactly, he would record all things that have happened since he last used it. If he weren't consciously refraining from matters which might set off Lahabrea's new temper, he might well have given into the temptation.
It also forces him to listen to Lahabrea's reasoning. To remember the why behind the duty. It reminds him of the memories lost. The ones he can never regain because he never recorded them. Of the Warrior of Light and his friends asking why.
In the end, it boils down to his conviction and that this is a test of them. Lahabrea is treated to a long silence as the Emissary struggles, both with the requirement and himself, and annoyance with the Speaker for being put in such a situation. Finally, he bites out carefully his acquiescence.
"Very well. For all the good it might do in the end." After all, what good are memories he will only lose once again? Lahabrea never told him he would have to do it more than once. Very likely, Elidibus has no intention of doing more than has been literally asked on the matter. And sense Lahabrea is so insistent on these memories....
"I will require that you too, upkeep your memories. As you're so convinced it is necessary for me."
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Date: 2021-01-12 11:52 am (UTC)There was a certain tendency among their kind to think self-sacrifice is perfectly reasonable so long as the goal is noble enough, and he's not having any of that nonsense along. It's a simple matter to simply cut the Emissary free should he begin displaying anything too reptilian, though repairing the damage afterward could take some time. How would that even be accomplished? Hope one of their sundered brethren turn up and also are stable enough to provide a good base point?
Better than a mortal, he supposed.
One hand is negligently waved. "I know of your occasional disagreements with Emet-Selch over this, but they are irrelevant. My purposes are beyond merely having something to sulk over in between moments, but to provide a touchstone as to who we are, our thoughts and plans and ideas distinct from each other. The Coven does warn that a bond may share memories, feelings and more, and I question whether there will be a point where you do not know if a fleeting fragment of something half-remembered is mine or yours. Mayhap I will have a similar issue, it harms naught to be certain of the division." And if it's worse than mere fragments of a memory! Well, it wouldn't do to have Elidibus think he's taught classes at the academy, or Lahabrea convinced he's actually spent significant amounts of time finding Azem's perspective refreshing.
Emet-Selch's focus on remembering the pain and suffering they had gone through was not as pointlessly pathetic as he might make it out to be, but such a track is never going to work on Elidibus. If Lahabrea himself had no use for the misery and despair from long ago, how much less so someone who lived and breathed hope? Even if it might do them both good to remember. Names. Faces. The people and places that were once important. Things beyond pain and loss, little bits of happier times long buried. Did any of them remember the sound of laughter in Amaurot's streets?
He sets his hand upon the fragments of amethyst again, frowning. "I would not have a second Lahabrea running about, nor do I particularly desire to take on the role of Emissary, and I do not think Emet-Selch can be relied upon to provide clarity. Long ago we made those crystals for different purposes, but they will I think function well enough for this."
He'd rather not. He knows he himself has forgotten things, perhaps only the things he had once been passionate about BEYOND merely seeing worlds come to ruin in their goal, and being reminded of them would be unpleasant in the extremes.
He does not mention his certainty that there will come a point where all that stands between him and the mind of an animal is the unbreakable reminder that once he was so much more. If he dragged Elidibus down with him ...
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Date: 2021-01-12 06:27 pm (UTC)Then there's the matter that has the Emissary on tenterhooks and yes, Lahabrea is the subject of one of Elidibus' rare bouts of visible ire. Well, mostly rare. Of late, he's been showing emotion more often, mostly involving encounters with the Warrior of Light he knows. Or Warrior of Darkness, as it now goes. As he listens to the Speaker further elaborate on the reasons for this unpleasant venture, the tension begins to dissipate. It's a wholly reasonable notion and one he can compare to his own research to verify. Memories, themselves, do get exchanged in a bond. And it helps that Lahabrea says 'we'. So he fully intends to share in this farce. Not simply for the sake of some sentimental 'the reasons for the importance of their purpose' for all it will hurt to forget again but as a mere clinical sorting of whose memories belong to whom. To a point, anyway. After all there is a large swath of time Elidibus will simply be unable to verify.
Maybe it occurs to the Ascian that in itself would be easy enough to sort out on his end without the use of the stone. Just about everything from the beginning is gone, leaving anything else, apart from a few tattered fragments, solely Lahabrea's perspective. But it wars with the deep desire to really remember all that is lost, no matter how painful. To KNOW what more those fragments would say. Something he never would have given form to consider, had he not been brought to Aefenglom.
"Your reasoning is exemplary, Lahabrea," Elidibus answers, in a notably more calm state. "While it may be unpleasant, it will serve a purpose. Let me once again agree to your conditions, without rancor. I will be sure to steel my resolve, when the time comes."
Just... once. Just once wouldn't hurt too much. Right?
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Date: 2021-01-12 06:50 pm (UTC)But everything Amaurot would be recalled, even if the intervening thousands of years lay forgotten. There would be more of a struggle to determine what and when the rest outlined .. but he could deal with that when it arose, if he still had a mind to do so. Perhaps by then the dragon would be fully in control, and dragons were so certain of how flawless their memories were that they held grudges across centuries for things done by people long since dust. People who even through the effort of the Ascians, would not return. Not in their piteous fragmented states, those lives swept away by the experience of far older souls.
He has far more reservations than spoken about, but other than a thinning of the lips it's not really easy to tell there's lingering displeasure. This too was weakness, wasn't it? Having to rely on others to simply keep being able to string words together in a coherent fashion.
It was pathetic. How he himself from eras past would have laughed at his current plight, so helpless as to be undone by the will of something other than Zodiark Himself.
Elidibus hadn't laughed, not yet. But he wasn't much prone to those emotions to begin with, not anymore. He had other ways of making displeasure known, and Lahabrea still waits for the inevitability of it. "Mayhap confronting it directly will make it less unpleasant when the time comes," the ascian mutters, scrubbing a hand over the lower part of his face. "I have oft found terrible things to be less so when challenged outright, and not simply allowed to skulk about in the back of one's mind like starving jackals darting in to snap at whatever thoughts they can wound." But that wouldn't be contended with for quite some time yet, as the stone he possessed was strangely inert.. which means this place somehow muffled even that.
Most people do not find Lahabrea's methods of contending with difficulty to be things worth emulating. More fragile things, and people, tend to break. "... When. Are you insisting this bonding be done."
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Date: 2021-01-12 07:49 pm (UTC)There are weaknesses and risks that Elidibus doesn't elaborate upon as well, so they are equal in that. Perhaps some are similar. Such as how in a mere year of this world and its Bonds, Emet-Selch has become so enamored with mortality as to perhaps be swayed away from the path and Zodiark's will. Though admittedly the impossibility of that last makes it far from conscious thought for now. But dare they think to wait for a mortal century or so? If one year did this, what would one hundred of them do?
The limits of his own body's, too. Some thoughts on which have been mostly dismissed as irrelevant; there will surely be ways to extend the lifespan, once Ascian ingenuity and experience has been applied. But also that he would, on a course of magic he most certainly will not abstain from, explode from the over-production of aether without a Bond...
"There is no sense in delaying it further, now that we've reached a consensus. In a few days this period of a new moon will be upon us and I doubt the Coven will be performing ceremonies that are not of the utmost urgency."
The native magic being weakened, the Mirrorbound's being harder to control, supposedly. It sounded a deadly combination for any spell craft which required tying two souls together and would have both sides of the scale in play. He doubts the Coven would truly appreciate what's at stake.
So... now, then? Elidibus is certainly getting to his feet and giving Lahabrea a questioning look to see if he will continue to concur.
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Date: 2021-01-12 09:13 pm (UTC)There is a marked hesitance as Elidibus works on regaining his feet. 'Now' was ... inconvenient.
... It really wasn't.
Was this too a matter of faith? Not only that the degrading humiliation he's been faced with wouldn't somehow taint Elidibus too, but that the nascent witch could somehow spare him the worst of it? That even though nothing could prevent the warping of the vessel he wore, his soul could remain cleanly still ascian? They never were the shells they wrapped themselves in, this might be no different, if he could just ... keep his mind.
If the instincts that had driven even longer-changed dragons to try to kill each other over the city didn't likewise drown him out.
If.
Facing terrible things, indeed.
"...Very well."
It wasn't blind hope, there was precedent assuming things still worked the way they did with mortals, but it was perhaps the only hope he had, if laying his salvation at the feet of some hyur witch was as utterly unthinkable as it was. Eventually, he moves. It's not graceful, the tangle of robe and limb and tail, with the awkwardness of limbs and joints flexing in ways not yet familiar. Other things had changed, between a handful of days ago and now; the feet he balances on uneasily are no longer of a familiar plantigrade shape but fat-toed and starkly reptilian, easily spotted by the bright flash of color at the hem of his robes instead of solid, recognizable dark boots. Apparently rather recent indeed given how blunt he keeps the claws on his fingers, the new ones still come to wicked looking dangerous points. Whatever had shifted in his ankles and feet hasn't gotten higher yet, making movement problematic without cooperating knee joints and changed bone lengths in thigh and calf. He'll manage, but it won't be elegant.
Which is likely to be a severe affront to his ever-sensitive pride, but that would have to be dealt with.
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Date: 2021-01-12 10:44 pm (UTC)Elidibus must impress upon a Coven witch that this is a matter of great importance, should any dare to suggest delaying matters. He nods to Lahabrea, not speaking of the matter, and turns to fetch his gear and set about donning it again for the journey.
An eye is kept on his fellow Unsundered during this time. The Emissary will not outright offer the indignity of supporting Lahabrea during their journey. But he will be ever near, keeping his own pace to the Speaker's and always being ready to catch him, should he start to fall. The matter of needing aid after all, seems the less appalling weakness than falling flat on one's face.
Their slow progress, yes. No amaro again, which in a way is fortunately, for she would not be likely capable of carrying both their weight far even grounded and her pace would be useless for the current circumstance. It has gotten on in the evening, as winter seasons bring darkness early still and so Elidibus had taken a lantern from Lahabrea's belongings once again, so he could light
histheir way. There would be an extravagant length of time in which to have doubts, second thoughts or general conversation.Elidibus intends to give no consideration of second thoughts. He will remain firm, even if something is voiced. And as he agreed to the terms Lahabrea presented, he expects there should be none spoken of aloud.
Of doubts, the Emissary will do as he always does of late. Dismiss them as irrelevant. At least those voiced to himself. What Lahabrea might bring up will be addressed, as that is Elidibus' duty.
'Small talk' is not really their way. Especially his way. They meet for business or important matters, they go back to their tasks. It would surprise Elidibus, if Lahabrea wished to engage in something so personal. He will not.
Only physical aid, should it prove needed. And a tendency to switch position with the Speaker depending on the wind's direction, acting as something of a break to added chill.
When the Coven headquarters is finally reached, there is still plenty of activity. And why not? With vampire related Bonds and research to be had at all hours, there's surely a night shift. It is pleasing though, to know there won't be reason for delay. The interior may not be as overly warm as Lahabrea's place, but it is pleasant, thanks to ample enchantments. Elidibus need not take off his layers immediately, though the hood of his cloak is pulled down.
The two will be noticed not long after entry. How could one not notice Lahabrea and a warrior with a giant axe? Particularly the former. The power of a dragon, even one not fully transformed, is highly sought after. Most turn away with varying stages of disappointment on noticing Elidibus at the dragon's side. Or at least possess a good, healthy respect for a dragon's temperament. A few still look on with a hopeful air. Perhaps it is a Bonded pair looking for another. The Emissary ignores the stares.
An elderly Coven witch is on duty for reception and is quick to draw attention to himself. "Greetings and welcome. How may the Coven assist you today?"
At least Elidibus isn't going to make the Speaker address the mortal. Using his host body's natural tones and an example of good-hearted cheer, he addresses the receptionist. "We wish to form a Bond. Is there a witch available to conduct the ceremony?"
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Date: 2021-01-12 11:22 pm (UTC)More people could do well to learn the simple contentment in silence.
The only interruption is a good twenty minutes after they set out, stumbling and awkward, before he mutters a curse and steps sideways onto a less worn cobblestone street and spends a solid five minutes dragging his new talons across the stone, leaving deep grooves as he goes. But more importantly, those sharp, sticking tips are worn down or simply broken straight off. It's .. slightly easier going after that, or at least less stumbling; by the time they actually reach the other side of the city he's figured out better how to use that long rudderlike tail to aid a bit in balance.
It won't be entirely better until this misery's finished having its way with him, but it's somewhat less embarrassing.
While he does note that Elidibus keeps changing position based on where the wind is, he says nothing about it. He can feel the wind through his robes and the clothes underneath, the cold simply didn't bite the way it used to. The only blessing, he supposed, for the layer of feathers and scales, they seemed to work wonders as insulators.
The certainty this is not the best of ideas remains, aided not at all by the attention garnered as they finally arrive at the needed destination. He still strikes an ominous figure, fluffy dragon bits aside, and it's a stark contrast to Elidibus' feigned good cheer and Ardbert act, a silent and disapproving red-masked, bad tempered shadow.
Elidibus is allowed his act.
It is after all, important.
"Not the sort of witch inclined to officiate weddings. When we leave I intend to eat him."
Lahabrea's rasped addition to 'Ardbert's' pleasant and friendly request is anything but equally friendly and pleasant, and one of the younger witches off to the side chokes on his evening tea, coughing and giggling and quickly excusing himself before it gets any worse. Bonds don't kill each other, so obviously it's macabre humor, no matter how utterly seriously it's said.
The Speaker doesn't so much as twitch a feather at his now more distant giggles. "I want that one, if he knows the spell," he adds, almost as an afterthought.
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Date: 2021-01-13 12:06 am (UTC)Upon arrival and the subsequent events that follow, Elidibus slowly turns and looks up at Lahabrea, fixing him with a long look that might have a measure of its own disapproval. The elderly receptionist is given something of a fright by the absolute seriousness of the manner in which the dragon expresses his intentions. "I... I.. oh." Perhaps he too comes to the conclusion of it being a macabre joke. Not so much in the face of the witch who spit out his tea, but in the calm manner by which Elidibus reacts. He inhales and exhales to calm himself, before choosing to move on like a true professional.
"Liam? Why, he certainly knows the spell and I can see if he has time. I hope he has not offended you in any way, however," the receptionist studies both Elidibus and Lahabrea. Mostly Lahabrea, as if trying to scry the level of danger Liam might be in. There may still be giggling to be heard. So it may actually be quite a lot of danger.
"We understand the importance of the ceremony," 'Ardbert' interjects. DON'T WE, LAHABREA? He seems to have adopted a wry smile once he turned back to the witch. "I will make sure no witch who conducts it comes to lasting harm."
Keyword: Lasting.
"Ah, then yes. And if I may, you two are Mirrorbound, lest my eyes deceive?" One is undergoing a Monster's transformation and thus not a native, on top of dragons being rare as it is. The other is wearing gear and bearing a weapon in a fashion not typical to Geardagas and besides, Elidibus did attend an orientation not long ago. He stood out a bit with the amaro. There will, of course, be a nod of affirmation from the Emissary.
"Liam handles many such circumstances. Let me send a message then." The elderly witch picks up the pen from the inkwell and writes out a missive to paper. He folds it to the rough shape of a bird whilst murmuring words of an incantation, at the end of which transforms the into a small glowing sparrow-shaped creature. "To Liam you go," the receptionist commands and the bird takes its short flight with the requested conditions to find out if Liam is indeed available.
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Date: 2021-01-13 12:45 am (UTC)He will not be the last.
"I am not offended," is the only thing the ascian actually has to add to what he's already said, which may or may not be reassuring. Certainly dragons had prickly senses of pride and were often temperamental, but if he's agitated by the occasional giggle that can still be heard, there's really little sign of it, even where masks and robes don't disguise. Maybe it really is safe.
Or as safe as anything gets around Bringers of Chaos. And now there isn't just one of them, tamed by faith in mortals.
Now there's three, and two are far less kindly disposed.
As the little bright message wings off, it is watched with brief interest - not unlike some things he'd once used, long, long ago. But there was little use for them lately, and even less so now that he COULDN'T. But it seems the message does find where it's going, because rather quickly that coughing, giggling young witch turns up again, doing his best to straighten out his appearance as quickly and neatly as he can. He could be any one of hundreds of men in the city, unremarkable in appearance, tousle-haired and bright eyed, with a scattering of freckles and a genuine smile that shows a lone missing tooth to one side.
"Please accept my apologies, sirs. I would be delighted to see you both Bonded! And so soon after your arrival, didn't I see you in the recent orientation class? Please come this way." It is fairly obvious these two aren't overflowing with love for each other, so it's not one of those Bonds, and that's just fine - it seems Liam's not about to wait long, waving them to follow him. Lahabrea considers this for a long moment before actually doing as bidden, still quiet. "For formality's sake, you do understand what Bonding is, and the step you are about to take? If either of you are being coerced or are unwilling, the magic will not work."
It does have the sense of formality - but at least the Coven is intelligent enough to ask, especially with those so obviously newly arrived.
But Liam's also only waiting for the inevitable affirmative, whereupon he plows ahead; while his voice is carefully modulated, his gestures are wide and sweeping, and he seems as delighted as he said he was. It doesn't take long to reach a quiet side room for them; it's fairly nicely appointed, but doesn't have the sense of lavish celebration that say ... a romantic bond might otherwise be ushered into. "I will be tethering your magical signatures to each other, the very essences of your beings. This will not be painful, but it may be a little disorienting if you've never experienced something like it. If at some point in the future you so choose, the bond may be dissolved; it is not permanent unless you wish it to be. But as I am certain you both have heard before, the benefits are enormous to both of you! As you've chosen to take this step, I'm sure you're both well aware."
Soft blue-violet light begins burning a circle into the floor at a gesture from the young witch. "Please step inside once you are ready to confirm willingness to bind yourself to your partner, and join hands. ..Er, ungloved would be ideal. If you have vows prepared, you may recite them."
Wait, vows?
They need vows? Lahabrea pauses just on the other side of the circle, underlit by the glowing magic. "Is that necessary?"
"...Um. Not. ... Precisely as such, no, but it's encouraged."
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Date: 2021-01-13 04:59 am (UTC)"Yes, I have not been long in this world. My colleague, whom I've known from before, has been here longer. After a discussion, we saw no reason to delay a Bonding any further." This is definitely not romantic, though it is pretty much the truth. He follows after the other witch and the dragon.
A slight smile follows his question. "I have looked into the matter thoroughly. Unless my companion suddenly feels otherwise, then you can be assured we are neither coerced or unwilling to proceed." Elidibus seems to sober a bit. "If the truth is otherwise, then we must simply revisit the discussion until we can proceed." The Emissary doesn't look toward Lahabrea in any significant way. He simply presumes the Speaker is willing and uncoerced, or that they will need to retreat and talk more about it. After all, what other choice is really left to them? One hinges on another Ascian chancing to be brought forth. The other, a possibility that is abhorrent to them both.
Does becoming the vessel for the will of a God count for similarity? Perhaps not. But there is a brief flit of amusement across Elidibus' unmasked features as he thinks of whether anything will top the sensation of that moment, no matter how different. There are things one does not ever forget. He does nod in acceptance of the warning, but gives nothing else. Perhaps a glance to Lahabrea, simply because of the knowledge of what happened shortly before the Speaker's demise. But Lahabrea himself would not know, would he?
Elidibus steps to the edge of the circle and likewise halts. Wait, did Liam say ungloved? The Ascian looks closely for any signs that this was in error. Vows, too. They're encouraged, and this world has its magic couched with incantation more often than not. So there might be some merit in a few basic words even if tedious. But... "I understand the merit of vows. We could simply repeat the basic intent behind our goal. But.... join hands?" Join ungloved hands at that? Stop looking at the guy like he just said the rudest thing, Emissary. So Elidibus looks toward Lahabrea, to see if his colleague had indeed heard the same thing.
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Date: 2021-01-13 11:43 am (UTC)There is always, of course, a 'yet' on there.
He knows nothing of what happens with Igeyorhm mere hours after his disappearance, and he has not asked. Certainly some people in this city would be glad to tell him if it would twist a knife somewhere, but he's disinclined to seek out some flawed and obviously distorted future even by way of knowledge! It's for the best, really. That defeat was ... in some ways, worse than this humiliation was.
Better to deal with the intricacies of some foreign spellcraft. He could manage vows easily enough in some measure, if only to satisfy the demands of magecraft, and while the rest is certainly odd to think about it can't be required without reason either. "Touch enhances some of our own magic," he points out mildly, "Making the transfer of aether quicker and cleaner. Pray don't claim to be concerned about decency now after running around bare faced and dressing like that at least since arriving here."
Liam considers the way Elidibus is dressed for a long silent moment. The implication in Lahabrea's words was clearly that somehow Elidibus is outright indecent, but .... it looks ... pefectly ordinary to him? And rather well suited to winter, at that. "Er."
He's young enough to be thrown off by this sort of thing, clearly, but scrambles to regain composure. "Ah, er, yes, that exactly. You'll be bound by your magic itself shortly, surely you can tolerate touching each other for a short time..?" His tone is one slightly of pleading. "It really does make things go quite a bit easier."
One hand is offered, the smile beneath Lahabrea's mask a thin twist of irony. "Come then, let us see this done. We daily make promises and swear oaths and drive relentlessly to return to us what was lost, to soothe the suffering of eons and the voices of millions. What is one more? Let us add this tiny victory to the list of the seven that have shaken the firmament and reminded would-be Goddesses that we have not yet been broken and defeated." Should Elidibus take the offered hand - the glitter of earlier dusted gold is easier to understand, his fingers and palm are rough with minute, delicate-seeming scales. "This star will not drive us down to dust when all we have endured til now has not."
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Date: 2021-01-13 05:17 pm (UTC)Elidibus straightens up and begins to take off his gloves. Lahabrea is given an even look for his reminder about the state of his dress. Yes, the face of the warrior he'd taken host of was bare, but he had at least left on the cloak for some semblance of robes. Only the hood had been pulled down and it's not going to be drawn back up. The thick gloves are tucked around a belt at his waist.
He steps into the circle and reaches out with both hands. One clasps the other Lahabrea proffered, feeling the scales underneath and the blunt talons curling about, undoubtedly with some care. He doesn't flinch over that. His other hand... waits like a counter offer. And when he speaks, it as if to answer the words of his fellow Ascian with his own vow. And it is with the voice of the Emissary himself rather than the mortal.
"I will remain steadfast to my duty and role. No physical change, nor mental state will prevent me from reaching out and offering succor those who are my charge in this long night. For I am the Emissary, to bring the will of our God, hopes and salvation of our people, our star. We will return. We will succeed. This is my promise to you."
Liam asked for vows, for tactile connection. And he got them.
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Date: 2021-01-13 08:09 pm (UTC)He simply waits until both are in the circle of magic, and are as prepared as any may hope to get. No sooner does Lahabrea, with a sigh, take the other offered hand in his own, that Liam sets to work.
Lahabrea can't sense magic and aether the way he used to. He can't see or experience the same way the feeling of having someone draw on his very soul with an ease that feels strange and practiced, as if it has happened countless times before, as if they were in the hands of someone as old and familiar with this as they were and not the mid-twenties enthusiastic youngster they were actually dealing with. It's a deliberate choice on Liam's part to add the tiniest of additional power to it so the spell is visible to both monster and untrained witch, a reaching tendril of pale luminescence to wind around first Elidibus and then Lahabrea from the ground up, almost vinelike, spreading, entangling, moving inward to twine around what they called magical essence but everyone else called a soul and gently wind two separate and distinct presences together somewhere in the middle in braiding loops.
The faint ribbon of pale luminescence stretched between them stains darker towards a familiar purply obsidian rapidly - how could it not, with both so intimately sworn to the service of the God of Darkness? All it is, is another thing to bind them - on Lahabrea's end a sanguine undercurrent, like runners of fire beneath, the network of magical threads on Elidibus' edged in muted cerulean, changing to a shade of dark violet somewhere in the middle as the ribbons of bond meet and then tangle together. First merely sorcery, and then the incursion of someone else's emotion. Faint or strong, that depends on the newly bonded pair.
The wash of darkness remains. It always will.
The illusory light fades, but the connection that simply hadn't been there before doesn't.
There is no sudden unexpected awareness of another's emotions as strong as his own, he can't sense or hear Elidibus' thoughts or memories, just the faintest certainty of other and the connected feelings therein. It's strangely familiar, in a way that touching some mortal's soul never could be.
But.
For the first time in weeks, the almost intolerable drowning tide of fury and hatred that has boiled beneath the surface of every thought and action, the insufferably fragile temper that has edged every thought and action, harder and harder to resist, harder to strangle back into anything like common decency and breaking like the most fragile skim of ice every time the full moons encroached..
For the first time in an eternity of bitter, solitary struggle: stillness.
Silence.
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