Sephiroth. [automatic correction.] To be honest, I haven't entirely figured out how Sephiroth is doing this. But I think so. Even though sometimes...it just happens to him. The temple had crumbled just before that because Cloud took the black materia from its pedestal and triggered the defense the temple had.
You can probably see why I'm a little more careful with him now, can't you? [but also tricky...] I know enough, but...I am still trying to find him. The real him. There are things about him that I think are still hidden that even he doesn't know about.
[hidden by layers of sephiroth and also zack, she guesses.]
[she just kind of looks at them because cloud rejected reality so hard he thinks she's alive, so.]
It's a little more complicated, but...something to that degree, yes. We know how to snap him out of it when it becomes too much, but there's no sense in fighting too hard when it'll just make it more difficult. [...sighs.] I know that sounds bad. I do know that. But I don't...
[she doesn't want anything bad happening to him.]
Sephiroth's influence is getting stronger somehow. It's not going to be an easy road for him when we return.
[ i hope this happens again on friday that'd be so fucking crazy ]
... recovery is never an easy road.
[ to put it simply, ]
Whether it be brainwashing or something else, the body struggles against change. Even when it's necessary. And for wounds of the mind, it can take years to work through in therapy.
I suppose it's simply a matter on if you find it worth it, or not.
this makes sense to her though. they do not have therapy where she is from, but understandable. she seems to get the point they're trying to make with this.]
Of course I find it worth it. [that might not be what they meant.] Even if it isn't easy, everyone else will be there for him. He won't be alone.
No, because he's more likely to insist he's fine even when he's very clearly not. [and she sounds annoyed by this.] But I think it's because he doesn't know anything else.
[there's a little look at the mention of strays, but she won't point out she's thinking anything about it. rather, she's just frowning because she's getting so tired of hearing about people being manipulated into shit.]
Have you been able to start helping them to unlearn them? It sounds like it'd be difficult for them, too.
[this is the second time famine has mentioned therapy, and this time aerith gives them a little look that says she kind of gets the concept but isn't sure what that actually means. she can guess, but by all means, explain the therapy. everyone in the 7 party needs therapy.]
If he's still improving, sounds like token complaints to me. I think when people really don't want to follow suggestions, they would complain and then still not follow through. [...] It's...nice that you cared about them enough to give them what they needed to start getting better.
They wouldn't be as useful to me if they were still running around committing murders thinking that it was what they had to do to find fulfillment in life.
[ is it nice? is it? to pardon and save a serial killer, aerith? is it?
anyway, ]
Therapy is when a licensed professional engages in regularly schedule talk sessions with someone to unpack their trauma and face fallacies in their own thinking. It takes time, but it is effective.
[well you could have led with that part, man. also listen sometimes...people do things...are they no longer killing...
whatever it's fine.]
Oh, so that's the motivation. Sounds a little like someone else was misguiding them to begin with. And if the murders have stopped and they're coming to terms with what's happened...[well. people still die when they are killed and there are some evils you can't forgive, but intention means a lot.]
We don't have anything like that, I think. At least nothing I've heard of. [...] Are they helping you in your mission to fix your country then?
[there's a little pout because, like, she wouldn't call it a worry but also she's currently finding how many people are in godawful situations to begin with.]
So you're satisfied with the progress of everything so far. [she means back where they're from, but she figures they'll interpret that however they want because famine does not budge on their opinions much, it seems. unfortunate that she respects that.]
Right, right, looking to see if they can really successfully summon a god and if something like a god even exists. I remember. [she isn't entirely sure what to think about that, whether to be impressed or a little concerned. it's why she stares at them for a long moment before turning back and picking up a package of gummy bears.]
...people must think you're impressive where you're from.
Sorrowful wails trail after you.. They are in despair in the way that only people working their daily 9 to 5s can be. Even still, they are not enough to stop your long strides that take you further and further away from the center of the city.
“After him!!” one aide screams. “Lord Scien escaped from the meeting again!”
“Someone, call his bodyguard, Lucas!” Another cries out. “He's the only one who can detain Scien...!”
(Well. That one does get you to walk a bit faster. You’re not intimidated.)
The first aid whines again. “We need him to look through and approve the backlog of papers, and... ugh... My head...”
Their head? Please. All they do is bring the papers to you. You’re the one who actually has to think about the fate of the wretched country.
Well, less wretched these days.
“Unbelievable...” You complain, even as your path takes you towards the outskirts of the island. You meander through the commoner streets of Coene without concern. Even all these years later, people don’t know what their god walking among them even looks like. You pass through the streets, unknown, even though you’re in all their history books. “They’re not even giving me time to pay my respects. I already told them I had plans, and still they were brazen enough to schedule yet another meeting...”
You, the genius scientist, Scien Brofiise, who freed the country from the curse, breezed through the streets of your domain with a bottle of wine in hand.
“As soon as I opened the country, they buried me in politics and legislation... I miss my days at the Institute.”
Peace and quiet, uninterrupted for years at a time. Only you, your research, and the occasional basket of food left by your assistant. Where you are now, forcibly elected to the highest position of power by a Parliament you structured but never intended to run—you can only call it a necessary evil. One you’d like to escape from soon.
Still, that fades into the background now as you approach a small grave by a familiar orphanage.
You think to yourself: ‘I know it’s too late for regret, but I lost a promising successor and the only person who I would call my equal... Maybe I could have avoided their demise if I had focused my research on retaining personalities... Then again, they’re both together now as mother and son in the same grave...’
“You two have as many quarrels as you want in Hades like any normal family. You may not have noticed, but you two are just like each other in your extreme, two-sided personalities.”
You pour the wine you randomly chose over the grave where the two of them slept. Immediately after, you take out a letter from your pocket. You know what it is, based purely on its return address. Another research facility across the sea.
A letter requesting your presence in another country to collaborate in research on time travel. You know certainly that if you participate it would be very likely that the technology could be realized within a few years, but...
You don’t read the letter. You tear up their plea for help, sent under the guise of collaboration. It is but one of many invitations that you’ve received since opening the country, as the globe has become aware of the scope of what you’ve accomplished. Without the guidance of the genius beloved by God, time travel would likely fade into mere fantasy. But that was fine.
You frown, thinking of the words of a botched time traveler who came to you from a different timeline. The version of you that stopped aging at 18 was far more out of control. You used an innocent man as a test subject, and killed another that you swore to protect in your desperation. And still, that Scien Brofiise could not find a way to get rid of the curse with those sacrifices.
You cannot accept another existence of yourself foolish enough to accomplish nothing. You could never tread that same path.
The torn letter gets carried with the wind, and you regard the grave once more.
The resting place of the only two friends you’ve had in your near hundred years of living. Irreplaceable people who you failed to save. A foreign feeling makes a home in your chest, and you wonder if this is what people call loneliness. Remorse.
“Now then, I should be going.” You shake off the feeling, and declare your next steps. “I’m off to see your son and daughter start a new beginning... It’s out of character for me, but it’s my duty as the oldest.”
Fortunately, you’ve decided to pursue a new research topic—genetic disorders—which had no shortage of cases to explore. If you are indeed a god, you could be selfish and arrogant. As long as your work saves those who suffered in despair, who would judge you?
Following the new emotions in your modified heart, you—the man who became god—set out on a path that would lead you to even greater heights. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Is it a mind control based on proximity to... Sapphire, or whoever?
[ no ]
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Sounds complicated. How much do you know of him? Your mercenary companion.
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[hidden by layers of sephiroth and also zack, she guesses.]
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It's a little more complicated, but...something to that degree, yes. We know how to snap him out of it when it becomes too much, but there's no sense in fighting too hard when it'll just make it more difficult. [...sighs.] I know that sounds bad. I do know that. But I don't...
[she doesn't want anything bad happening to him.]
Sephiroth's influence is getting stronger somehow. It's not going to be an easy road for him when we return.
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... recovery is never an easy road.
[ to put it simply, ]
Whether it be brainwashing or something else, the body struggles against change. Even when it's necessary. And for wounds of the mind, it can take years to work through in therapy.
I suppose it's simply a matter on if you find it worth it, or not.
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this makes sense to her though. they do not have therapy where she is from, but understandable. she seems to get the point they're trying to make with this.]
Of course I find it worth it. [that might not be what they meant.] Even if it isn't easy, everyone else will be there for him. He won't be alone.
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Even if it means having to confront difficult realities that would uproot everything he knows about the world and himself?
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... Yes. I understand that well.
Though they do tend to end up happier on the other side, once they start to let go of their preconceived, false understandings.
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Something you have experience with then?
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A few strays that I've picked up have been abused into certain thinking patterns, to say the least.
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Have you been able to start helping them to unlearn them? It sounds like it'd be difficult for them, too.
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[ we love therapy ]
I gave another a little test that is also a leash, and he seems to be doing better for it, even though he still complains.
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If he's still improving, sounds like token complaints to me. I think when people really don't want to follow suggestions, they would complain and then still not follow through. [...] It's...nice that you cared about them enough to give them what they needed to start getting better.
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[ is it nice? is it? to pardon and save a serial killer, aerith? is it?
anyway, ]
Therapy is when a licensed professional engages in regularly schedule talk sessions with someone to unpack their trauma and face fallacies in their own thinking. It takes time, but it is effective.
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whatever it's fine.]
Oh, so that's the motivation. Sounds a little like someone else was misguiding them to begin with. And if the murders have stopped and they're coming to terms with what's happened...[well. people still die when they are killed and there are some evils you can't forgive, but intention means a lot.]
We don't have anything like that, I think. At least nothing I've heard of. [...] Are they helping you in your mission to fix your country then?
[give them a new way to find fulfillment, maybe.]
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[ but famine is concerned only about their own arrogant judgment. ]
They're useful in their own ways. The country is fixed, though. I've left them to continue on in their lives.
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So you're satisfied with the progress of everything so far. [she means back where they're from, but she figures they'll interpret that however they want because famine does not budge on their opinions much, it seems. unfortunate that she respects that.]
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[ tilts head ]
I do not have the imagination to ask for more.
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mirrors the headtilt though.]
Let's say the cult's successful and you do actually get a wish. Is there nothing you could think to use it for?
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[ they answer so fast it's stupid ]
I came looking for something new. That's all. Anything I desire, I can accomplish by my own power. That's always been true.
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...people must think you're impressive where you're from.
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Sorrowful wails trail after you.. They are in despair in the way that only people working their daily 9 to 5s can be. Even still, they are not enough to stop your long strides that take you further and further away from the center of the city.
“After him!!” one aide screams. “Lord Scien escaped from the meeting again!”
“Someone, call his bodyguard, Lucas!” Another cries out. “He's the only one who can detain Scien...!”
(Well. That one does get you to walk a bit faster. You’re not intimidated.)
The first aid whines again. “We need him to look through and approve the backlog of papers, and... ugh... My head...”
Their head? Please. All they do is bring the papers to you. You’re the one who actually has to think about the fate of the wretched country.
Well, less wretched these days.
“Unbelievable...” You complain, even as your path takes you towards the outskirts of the island. You meander through the commoner streets of Coene without concern. Even all these years later, people don’t know what their god walking among them even looks like. You pass through the streets, unknown, even though you’re in all their history books. “They’re not even giving me time to pay my respects. I already told them I had plans, and still they were brazen enough to schedule yet another meeting...”
You, the genius scientist, Scien Brofiise, who freed the country from the curse, breezed through the streets of your domain with a bottle of wine in hand.
“As soon as I opened the country, they buried me in politics and legislation... I miss my days at the Institute.”
Peace and quiet, uninterrupted for years at a time. Only you, your research, and the occasional basket of food left by your assistant. Where you are now, forcibly elected to the highest position of power by a Parliament you structured but never intended to run—you can only call it a necessary evil. One you’d like to escape from soon.
Still, that fades into the background now as you approach a small grave by a familiar orphanage.
You think to yourself: ‘I know it’s too late for regret, but I lost a promising successor and the only person who I would call my equal... Maybe I could have avoided their demise if I had focused my research on retaining personalities... Then again, they’re both together now as mother and son in the same grave...’
“You two have as many quarrels as you want in Hades like any normal family. You may not have noticed, but you two are just like each other in your extreme, two-sided personalities.”
You pour the wine you randomly chose over the grave where the two of them slept. Immediately after, you take out a letter from your pocket. You know what it is, based purely on its return address. Another research facility across the sea.
A letter requesting your presence in another country to collaborate in research on time travel. You know certainly that if you participate it would be very likely that the technology could be realized within a few years, but...
You don’t read the letter. You tear up their plea for help, sent under the guise of collaboration. It is but one of many invitations that you’ve received since opening the country, as the globe has become aware of the scope of what you’ve accomplished. Without the guidance of the genius beloved by God, time travel would likely fade into mere fantasy. But that was fine.
You frown, thinking of the words of a botched time traveler who came to you from a different timeline. The version of you that stopped aging at 18 was far more out of control. You used an innocent man as a test subject, and killed another that you swore to protect in your desperation. And still, that Scien Brofiise could not find a way to get rid of the curse with those sacrifices.
You cannot accept another existence of yourself foolish enough to accomplish nothing. You could never tread that same path.
The torn letter gets carried with the wind, and you regard the grave once more.
The resting place of the only two friends you’ve had in your near hundred years of living. Irreplaceable people who you failed to save. A foreign feeling makes a home in your chest, and you wonder if this is what people call loneliness. Remorse.
“Now then, I should be going.” You shake off the feeling, and declare your next steps. “I’m off to see your son and daughter start a new beginning... It’s out of character for me, but it’s my duty as the oldest.”
Fortunately, you’ve decided to pursue a new research topic—genetic disorders—which had no shortage of cases to explore. If you are indeed a god, you could be selfish and arrogant. As long as your work saves those who suffered in despair, who would judge you?
Following the new emotions in your modified heart, you—the man who became god—set out on a path that would lead you to even greater heights. ]
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