Most people should automatically accept that others wouldn't be blasé about their own death in a normal society.
[ scien is an exception because arpéchéle is a hellpit as aerith is personally experiencing, but also it's not a normal society. ]
He is a child. You do not need to make excuses for him. We already agree that he did not mean harm, but that does not change it was inflicted. You can be allotted time to process and heal all the same.
If the others accepted it... that is steps forward. You should not have to hide one of your troubles, if you want to share it.
[you'd think that, yes, but it's a lesson in only telling people who have the mental capacity to actually listen to her.]
So you won't think it's ridiculous to pull back from telling other people for a little while? [dubiously, but still something to consider.] I don't think it'll need to come up much for a little while anyway.
But you're right. It's steps forward with people knowing, even if I don't know what to say afterwards or how to say I don't know how to fix it yet, but I want to. [...] I want to go back. More than before.
You will know when it's right for you. If you still need time to recover from a setback, it is the same thing as injuring yourself when learning a new skill like swordplay. Heal, and get back at it.
[ he won't encourage her to run away forever but emotional processing takes time or whatever (scien is still a psychopath) ]
Good.
How do you want to go back? As yourself? Or do you think it'll be disruptive to your... lifestream?
[ he's trying to remember all your fantasy terms ]
[she nods to the first part because it makes sense and she doesn't think she needs to contribute any thought to it. no questions there.]
Myself, I think. I was going back to the lifestream but I didn't get there yet. Maybe there's a reason for that. And Cloud said Zack came to him, and I still don't understand that but it has to mean there's a way.
Yeah. A little while ago. [does not explain the zack, but she thinks the time part of it is important.] I don't really know how. He left for a mission a few years ago, and he never answered any of my letters, but I know he returned to the planet. And...now with this, I don't know what it means. If Cloud could see both of us, and talk to both of us, but he's alive, then what are we? You know?
As long as that can be captured and placed into a suitable vessel, ideally as close to a copy of your body as possible, then it should work fine. Though I typically have mixed feelings about returning from the dead after prolonged disappearances... I won't pass judgment on what is necessary for your world.
[ it seems
complicated with meteors and sephiroths and whatnot ]
But that's the last resort option for reviving you.
[ he doesn't really want his tech to wander off to another room where he can't supervise it and he doesn't trust that people won't burn aerith's body upon her death to protect the secrecy of the knowledge
I do appreciate the offer. [because she has a sense of how he feels about his own creation and man-made god, etc. that being said...] But you're right, it's a last resort. I want to find a way myself, and maybe being dead here, too, will make it easier. The only thing to worry about then is explaining it to everyone else we know. It wasn't that long before we came here.
...yeah, well. [he's here, so i don't know if that means he's privy to our permanent memshare but if he is he gets blasted with this. if not then ignore me.]
We've had a few complicated issues come up. So what's one more, right?
[ matches your fog with more brain soup blonde content
A young man with fine, golden hair and crimson-stained hands crumples to the floor. His breathing comes unevenly, eyes bloodshot, and shoulders straining with every shaking breath. You don’t know him.
You don’t have to. His reputation precedes him. A midnight black coat, hood fallen around his shoulders to reveal his damp, sweaty, lovely face. Who would have guessed that the infamous Bourreau would have a frame so slight? Yet there is no mistaking it: in front of you, an executioner falls apart before his halberd can find its next victim.
On the floor of the Claude manor, he speaks to himself. Or perhaps to some higher power. Someone. Anyone. His voice is as fragile as a butterfly’s wing, still desperately trying to flutter.
“Heh... Why...? What is right, and what is wrong... I don’t know anymore...” His halberd falls to the floor, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Someone, please help...”
You see the opportunity for what it is. You stride forward. “Who is it?”
“Huh...?” The killer startles, those bright, bright blue eyes trying to find the voice despite the fact that with every step, you walk closer.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You’d rather not waste time. Your voice is demanding as it ever is, uncaring of the fact that this individual was seeking to kill you just hours before. “I’m asking who it is you want to save. Is it you or someone else?”
“Huh? I...”
Slow, this one. All the same, you don’t wish to be mistaken for an altruist or a saint. You are neither, and never have been. To save people is simply incidental.
“I have no reason to help a killer, but at the same time, I don’t want to be reduced to a lump of flesh,” you explain pragmatically. “I can consider offering you help if you come to our side.”
Lucas’s hollow eyes shook as a gasp escaped him. Every word left him in slow, desperate trickles. “Please... help... My young sister... Nadia... has an incurable disease...”
Covered in blood, he bows his head down to you. A devout worshiper at the feet of a god among men.
You kneel to meet him, descending to his level. “Raise your head,” you say, and catch his chin to examine his state.
Lucas’s eyes are unfocused, and he obviously stammers through his speech. It was immediately telling that he wasn’t in his right mind. You come to a quick conclusion: ‘Brainwashed and hypnotized... His eyes are dilated, so I can only assume he’s been badly drugged.’
Lucas was only able to speak by pushing through the last of his sanity.
“Ceres... That young man’s words... I... I couldn’t... give up after hearing them... I... I... I still have much to show and teach my precious younger sister... So, please... I don’t want her to only live, but...” His small frame shivered with his plea, every hope leaving him as he offered his loyalty to the only savior that your island has ever known: you. “I want Nadia to be healed completely... Please give her a normal life, and a reason to smile under the blue sky...!
“That young man said... no matter the miracle... you... Scien Brofiise... With you... He could make it happen...”
Lucas’s fingers dug into his own scalp as he cried out in agony. His sincerest wishes escaped into the space between them. A murderer begging for the salvation of his darling sister. A demon capable of impossible feats, withering away in despair.
And yet, he did not lie.
You, Scien Brofiise, are capable of making any miracle happen. To save a girl is nothing.
“Fine,” you agree. “Stop talking already.”
Lucas looks up at you, just as you take his wrists and pull them away before he crushes his own skull. A detox is necessary. He’s of no use to you like this, but with the proper steps taken? Oh, there would be no greater asset to your steps forward. It does not matter that he did not seek assistance for himself.
For as he’d said, you are Scien Brofiise. And to take a demon’s bloody hand and pull him up from the depths of his own personal hell?
Is that not the greatest act of salvation possible? ]
[oh, more broup...as always, she's quiet and attentive as she watches this occur. the emotional feedback is almost painfully sympathetic because she's developed an attachment to lucas lately, a little unhappy knowing someone else has suffered inside his own mind because of other people's hands, and a little bemusement at the way scien reacts.
but why shouldn't he? a god among men who has been placed in that position by the people of his island, a man who became a god for the miracles he granted. she's aware of what things scien has been capable of and what he can continue to do.
so it's no surprise to her to see the way scien was thinking back then, to see the desperation in lucas's eyes and see the way the road to salvation began.
nevertheless, once the memory clears she looks at scien curiously.]
Did you know where to find him that night? Or was that coincidental?
A change in beliefs, and what better way than to find a new god to grant the miracles he's been seeking. [man. conflict.] From what you've said I would believe the island would fall apart without you, so glad to know that would never work.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ scien is an exception because arpéchéle is a hellpit as aerith is personally experiencing, but also it's not a normal society. ]
He is a child. You do not need to make excuses for him. We already agree that he did not mean harm, but that does not change it was inflicted. You can be allotted time to process and heal all the same.
If the others accepted it... that is steps forward. You should not have to hide one of your troubles, if you want to share it.
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So you won't think it's ridiculous to pull back from telling other people for a little while? [dubiously, but still something to consider.] I don't think it'll need to come up much for a little while anyway.
But you're right. It's steps forward with people knowing, even if I don't know what to say afterwards or how to say I don't know how to fix it yet, but I want to. [...] I want to go back. More than before.
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[ he won't encourage her to run away forever but emotional processing takes time or whatever (scien is still a psychopath) ]
Good.
How do you want to go back? As yourself? Or do you think it'll be disruptive to your... lifestream?
[ he's trying to remember all your fantasy terms ]
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Myself, I think. I was going back to the lifestream but I didn't get there yet. Maybe there's a reason for that. And Cloud said Zack came to him, and I still don't understand that but it has to mean there's a way.
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[ who
is zack ]
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As long as that can be captured and placed into a suitable vessel, ideally as close to a copy of your body as possible, then it should work fine. Though I typically have mixed feelings about returning from the dead after prolonged disappearances... I won't pass judgment on what is necessary for your world.
[ it seems
complicated with meteors and sephiroths and whatnot ]
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...isn't that similar to your reliver thing? [just shoving people into other sustainable bodies.]
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But that's the last resort option for reviving you.
[ he doesn't really want his tech to wander off to another room where he can't supervise it and he doesn't trust that people won't burn aerith's body upon her death to protect the secrecy of the knowledge
that said
he'll offer it ]
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But I do think the feelings of celebration will outweigh the misery. Even if it is complicated, it would probably be worthwhile to them.
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...yeah, well. [he's here, so i don't know if that means he's privy to our permanent memshare but if he is he gets blasted with this. if not then ignore me.]
We've had a few complicated issues come up. So what's one more, right?
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but he looks and feels thoughtful afterward ]
... his brain really is in pieces...
[ sweet cloud ]
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anyway yeah, she just looks and feels a little melancholic.]
Told you so. Make more sense why I haven't told him?
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But you have to start somewhere.
[ matches your fog with more brain soup blonde content
A young man with fine, golden hair and crimson-stained hands crumples to the floor. His breathing comes unevenly, eyes bloodshot, and shoulders straining with every shaking breath. You don’t know him.
You don’t have to. His reputation precedes him. A midnight black coat, hood fallen around his shoulders to reveal his damp, sweaty, lovely face. Who would have guessed that the infamous Bourreau would have a frame so slight? Yet there is no mistaking it: in front of you, an executioner falls apart before his halberd can find its next victim.
On the floor of the Claude manor, he speaks to himself. Or perhaps to some higher power. Someone. Anyone. His voice is as fragile as a butterfly’s wing, still desperately trying to flutter.
“Heh... Why...? What is right, and what is wrong... I don’t know anymore...” His halberd falls to the floor, and his voice drops to a whisper. “Someone, please help...”
You see the opportunity for what it is. You stride forward. “Who is it?”
“Huh...?” The killer startles, those bright, bright blue eyes trying to find the voice despite the fact that with every step, you walk closer.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You’d rather not waste time. Your voice is demanding as it ever is, uncaring of the fact that this individual was seeking to kill you just hours before. “I’m asking who it is you want to save. Is it you or someone else?”
“Huh? I...”
Slow, this one. All the same, you don’t wish to be mistaken for an altruist or a saint. You are neither, and never have been. To save people is simply incidental.
“I have no reason to help a killer, but at the same time, I don’t want to be reduced to a lump of flesh,” you explain pragmatically. “I can consider offering you help if you come to our side.”
Lucas’s hollow eyes shook as a gasp escaped him. Every word left him in slow, desperate trickles. “Please... help... My young sister... Nadia... has an incurable disease...”
Covered in blood, he bows his head down to you. A devout worshiper at the feet of a god among men.
You kneel to meet him, descending to his level. “Raise your head,” you say, and catch his chin to examine his state.
Lucas’s eyes are unfocused, and he obviously stammers through his speech. It was immediately telling that he wasn’t in his right mind. You come to a quick conclusion: ‘Brainwashed and hypnotized... His eyes are dilated, so I can only assume he’s been badly drugged.’
Lucas was only able to speak by pushing through the last of his sanity.
“Ceres... That young man’s words... I... I couldn’t... give up after hearing them... I... I... I still have much to show and teach my precious younger sister... So, please... I don’t want her to only live, but...” His small frame shivered with his plea, every hope leaving him as he offered his loyalty to the only savior that your island has ever known: you. “I want Nadia to be healed completely... Please give her a normal life, and a reason to smile under the blue sky...!
“That young man said... no matter the miracle... you... Scien Brofiise... With you... He could make it happen...”
Lucas’s fingers dug into his own scalp as he cried out in agony. His sincerest wishes escaped into the space between them. A murderer begging for the salvation of his darling sister. A demon capable of impossible feats, withering away in despair.
And yet, he did not lie.
You, Scien Brofiise, are capable of making any miracle happen. To save a girl is nothing.
“Fine,” you agree. “Stop talking already.”
Lucas looks up at you, just as you take his wrists and pull them away before he crushes his own skull. A detox is necessary. He’s of no use to you like this, but with the proper steps taken? Oh, there would be no greater asset to your steps forward. It does not matter that he did not seek assistance for himself.
For as he’d said, you are Scien Brofiise. And to take a demon’s bloody hand and pull him up from the depths of his own personal hell?
Is that not the greatest act of salvation possible? ]
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but why shouldn't he? a god among men who has been placed in that position by the people of his island, a man who became a god for the miracles he granted. she's aware of what things scien has been capable of and what he can continue to do.
so it's no surprise to her to see the way scien was thinking back then, to see the desperation in lucas's eyes and see the way the road to salvation began.
nevertheless, once the memory clears she looks at scien curiously.]
Did you know where to find him that night? Or was that coincidental?
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He was on his way to kill me.
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Of course he was. Because you created the technology that made the things he was taught to hate, I suppose?
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[ annoyed!!!! but he shakes his head ]
.... but people will believe anything at their worst.
There just needs to be enough of a crack to get them to believe something else.
[ when the desperation hits ]
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