slavecrowned | empatheias: mailbox

Does he?

[It's not something she's ever given much consideration, how much other people may or may not talk about her, but she adopts a thoughtful expression for a moment as she helps herself to another long sip of her tea. It's entirely possible that the tips of her ears turn a bit pink, but then again, it may just be a trick of the light.

She's not used to mattering to anyone in the right ways. She'd had a taste of it back home with Locke and Edgar and the others, but the Empire's relentless pursuit had made it difficult for her to fully understand and appreciate what she had gained. Here in Verens, she has nothing but time and freedom to do exactly that— along with whatever else she wants.

She lowers her cup, her fingers still curled around it and keeping it steady. It's a simple enough question, and yet the answer seems anything but.]

Coming here has given me the chance to experience so many things for the first time. I have friends— a family. I've been doing all I can to leave the past behind me, and to move forward with the idea that what's ahead matters much more, but it's been— hard. [Her face falls slightly.] I had nightmares before Brinndosi, too, but since then, it feels like I've been remembering more. Mostly things I'd rather not. I don't want... who I was or what was done to me to define me.

[Though they have known one another but a few short moons, this in particular surfaces in conversation with Terra often. Recognizing this, Y'shtola looks at her curiously, thoughtful frown easing into a compassionate one at the mention of nightmares, of rising demons of the past.

She takes a long, thoughtful breath, another sip of tea.]

If you will indulge me a moment?

[Time, distance, and much analysis have given Y'shtola the chance to examine her perspective on things very like this, dilemmas mirroring Terra's in ways that would have shocked her much more readily ere she ever knew of Empatheias or other worlds at all. Without quite looking up from a point partway across the room, a meeting of floor and furniture, she keeps her voice soft - it isn't a lecture or a leading line, as an instructor might offer a student. 'Tis a story.]

In Eorzea, I have a dear friend who has faced many a trial in the course of his life. Indeed, he was forced, through a presence outside himself, through the power of shadow and chaos, to take up arms against us. Against all we had wrought together. In so doing - in harboring a being so utterly oppressive, one that drove his consciousness away and used his physical form to bring about destruction - he nearly lost his life.

[The memories are not easy for her even after all this time, even bolstered by the lingering triumph and relief of their victory.]

In time, he was freed from his bond with that entity, and in the weeks that followed, instead he almost lost himself. At every turn, given any opportunity, he made to bury what he had done, to put as much distance between his past and himself as possible. Though his actions were not his own, he cultivated and bore invented blame for them, and he yet maintains the stubborn determination to make up for who he was. What he thinks he had become.

Yet he cannot. [She's smiling, just barely, into the depths of her tea.] He, and you, and I, and all those bearing the scars left upon them by the claws of the past, have little choice but to go on bearing them, and face whatever arises thenceforth. One day at a time, each day to the best of our respective abilities. Some of those days are inevitably marked by abiding darkness, but always we carry on in the hope that, with time, more and more will they be buoyed instead by light.

[Her hand lands gently on Terra's near wrist.]

It defines you. It will define you always, if only in your efforts to ever strive against it. In the remnants of your past is revealed the strength you need to create the future. The marks of it are not a weakness.

[...At least, that's what she chooses to believe.]

[She listens intently and without interruption, both patient and eager to hear what her friend has to say. The parallels are readily apparent, and her gaze drops to the tea in her cup partway through. Making up for who he thought he had become. It strikes a chord with her, and she knows full well it's the same battle she's been fighting, the one she's chosen for herself despite the fact that her past actions were not her own.

Some things can never be made up for, but she still wishes to be the best possible version of herself, someone apart from the Imperial Witch that had struck fear into the hearts of so many.

As Y'shtola's hand comes to rest on her wrist, she turns her gaze upwards once more, offering her friend a faint but tired smile. She knows that she can move forward, that she can bear the deeds of the past as she makes every effort to carry on the best way she knows how, and yet there's more to it than that.]

I know you're right.

[Y'shtola's story itself serves as a much-needed reminder of the fact that what's done can never be undone or made up for, something she has made every effort to come to terms with on her own— but a little help never hurts.]

Your friend— did he ever learn that he could never make up for what happened?

[As Y'shtola closes her eyes, her smile grows undeniably fond. Wistful, even.]

I doubt he will ever cease his efforts to prove himself against the trials of shadow. However, I do believe he has learned, or will learn, to pursue satisfaction rather than redemption. For all he may not believe there is nothing to redeem, that the blame for what was done to him and through him is not his to shoulder, he can appreciate what it takes to shape a better future for those we hold most dear.

[She withdraws her hand then, so she might better hold her tea and take a few sips.]

'Tis not the same as what was done to you, of course, nor are his responses necessarily yours as well.

[Their responses may not necessarily be the same, but there are some similarities, and Terra nods in reply, her hands coming to rest in her lap, still balancing her cup of tea.]

That's what I want, too. I know that what's done can't be undone, and there's no 'making up' for it. I want the future to be better.

[But she's repeating herself here; they've talked about this before, and that's not what plagues her now. She smiles again, wistful, as though what she has to confess saddens her greatly.]

I just wish... that even knowing all that, that I could stop feeling so afraid. Knowing that all of that is behind me... it doesn't plague me in my waking hours anymore, but sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to let go of it completely. Maybe with time. I guess... it hasn't really been that long, if I think about it.

Not only that, but you recently lived it anew. That memory did not belong to me, yet it felt as real as any of my own do, and I faced desperation and fear despite no threat of danger to my person.

[There are more similarities than Terra realizes, perhaps, between her and Thancred.]

Would that I knew of some spell or infusion that could silence dreams. Perhaps among the knowledge of various other worlds, one might be known, and by smaller chance, replicated...but 'tis not a very reliable thought.

[Y'shtola sets her tea down on the coffee table, turning so she mostly faces Terra.]

What is it you fear so?

[Of course, Y'shtola is right about all of it— her freedom has only been recently won, and of course being forced to relive that critical moment in Brinndosi had left its mark on her, made the nightmares that already disrupted her sleep seem to come alive. She nods— it helps, some, to hear someone else say it, to have someone understand how deeply her past effects her despite her wishing that it didn't.]

I... I don't know.

[It's an honest and open admission. She can't quite put a name to it; it's a feeling of dread that hangs over her, some days more than others, but there is one thing that does concern her, and for now she can offer that much.]

Partly, that all of this won't last. And I know we can't expect it to— people come and go, we can't count on this world to keep us. But if I go back— when I go back—

[Her expression darkens slightly, her brows knitting together. She so desperately wants to fight to make her world better than it is, to stop Kefka in his tracks, and yet her memories of what had happened just before she came to Empatheias remain clear.]

We lost, Y'shtola. We couldn't stop Kefka— we were beaten. I worry about what that means for everyone else, but also... as selfish as it feels, I'm afraid of what that means for me.

[She's strong, and she knows it, but there's no denying the fact that he's much stronger.]

[Of all the many things she expected to hear...not a one of them was such defeat. "We lost." She knows her face has spoken for her already, a frown and wince of sympathy. 'Tis too late to take it back. She can but hope Terra takes no offense.

The silence stretches. What is there that she might say, for comfort? Reassurance? After all, she herself faces just such a scenario, to the best of her knowledge before arriving here instead of vanishing into the aether forever. They have already lost. They are running, one by one placing their lives in the path of danger rising with the tide.

Is there hope, there in the darkness? If there was not, why would she try to save even one life against the current?

...A long-distant voice echoes in her thoughts, and Y'shtola closes her eyes, holding back a very sad smile.]

Where men go as one, there is life. [As always, when this happens, in her mind she hears his voice speaking beside her own.] And where there is life, there is cause to hope.

[She shakes her head a few times.] 'Twas something my mentor was fond of saying when the threat of darkness grew imminent. When we, too, felt the closeness of unrecoverable loss. And great despair there was, indeed, in that time.

[A small part of her worries this will be received as some sort of lecture. It isn't, quite. Y'shtola has lived through a calamity and more, and she hopes that emerging on the other side of it and sharing the tale might grant Terra a measure of peace.]

The realm we swore to protect is yet broken, and its recovery slow and stuttering. But the dawn's light always returns to drive back the darkness. Life finds a way.

Life finds a way.

[Terra's voice is soft as she echoes Y'shtola, and her brow furrows slightly in reply. It's good advice— she intends to take those words to heart, and yet...]

But what if there's no life left?

[She looks up at her friend, meeting her gaze, and her expression is one of honest curiosity and concern rather than discouragement.]

Almost all of the Espers are dead, and those that aren't won't have long. I might be the only one left— and I don't know what's coming next. The world was tearing itself apart when I left, and I worry that the humans who do survive won't have long either, when he's through with them.

[But worrying and wondering doesn't help anyone, whether she's here or back home.]

There's no way to know what's ahead, I know. Except— awhile back, I ran into someone at the Memory Tree— someone who knows me, but who I don't remember. I saw one of his memories, and... I was in it.

[She's been cautious to talk about this before now, because she didn't know what it meant, but she's been giving it some thought along with all the rest.]

So were you. [It had taken her a moment to recognize Y'shtola in the scene, but they had been fighting alongside one another.] If we were together in someone else's memory, but neither one of us remembers it, then that must mean that it hasn't happened yet— it means both of our worlds have to survive, doesn't it?

[About to say something else, Y'shtola quashes the urge to speak while Terra continues. A memory, belonging to another, that contained Terra and Y'shtola both?

She nods once.]

He calls himself Warrior of Light, does he not? And I looked passing different to how I appear now?

[So startling was her encounter with that memory that she continues to think about it, day after day, and thus it is burned into her mind despite its belonging to another entirely. To forestall any further surprise, Y'shtola nods again.]

Not only have we met, but I glimpsed this same memory, or one uncannily like to it, when I encountered him beneath the tree. 'Twas a surprise thereafter indeed to realize I did know you already, but not as you appeared within his recollection, as well. I've not asked him for the details of the battle in which we were engaged; it must be my future, and so I am assured of one day knowing its specifics myself, firsthand.

[She leans back against the sofa cushions, her ears turning back and forth a few times - contentment.]

And to meet with you, again, though we may not know one another beyond the boundaries of this world once we leave it. I should very much like to come to that future.

Yes— that's him.

[She nods, both to confirm and in response to the question that immediately follows. Y'shtola had looked different from the woman that Terra herself knows, but once she'd recognized her, there had been no denying her identity.]

I didn't know you had seen it, too. I've been meaning to mention it to you, but the time was never right. I didn't know what to make of it, especially with everything else going on, but...

[She pauses, and she looks over to her friend to offer her a reserved but genuinely warm smile, her eyes fond.]

I like the idea of a future where we still find each other and become friends.

As do I.

[She cannot control what part she plays in that world's "conflict", or for how long, just as she is powerless against it here. Facing that, she can but look forward to the pieces of joy within all the murk and fog of the future.]

'Twould seem we both have much and more to do in our worlds and outside of them, and hard work awaiting us, as always.

[If the memory they saw is indeed one and the same, they are deep into trouble at the time of that battle. Y'shtola thinks suddenly of facing her memory of Kekfa, and taking the same course she did in that memory, and shakes her head at herself over her own soft heart.]

Though I cannot say I hope for their appearance here, should any other of my companions from Hydaelyn arrive, they are certain to enjoy your company just as well.

If they do, I would very much like to meet them. I don't wish for anyone to be whisked away here, either, but if any of my friends from my world were to turn up, I know they would be just as fond of you as I am.

[Perhaps even moreso, in some cases— Terra immediately thinks of Edgar, and if he ever turns up, she'll have to warn Y'shtola against his advances. Then again, maybe it would be the other way around... Y'shtola is certainly a force of nature in her own right, perhaps even enough so to keep the likes of Edgar Figaro at bay.]

Knowing there are still battles ahead for the both of us... that gives me more hope than I had before, though it feels strange to say so.

The comfort of a certain future, even a certainly fraught one, far outweighs not knowing what will befall you at all, I expect.

[Gods know such considerations have helped Y'shtola keep a level head all these moons. If nothing else, she hopes it lifts Terra a bit out of her despondent spirits.]

While my mind is on our friends, I've wondered for days how you managed to move Arthur from where he fell to his lodgings unassisted.

[Clover was probably there, but the faerie isn't exactly constructed for heavy lifting.]

[Terra nods in agreement— Y'shtola says it just right, as she always does. Though the future may hold any number of challenges both for them and those they hold dear, knowing that there is a future at all gives her reason to hope— something it had been steadily growing more and more difficult to do the more time she had to wonder.

The query that follows is unexpected, but it's met with a sheepish sort of smile. Though Arthur remains unaware of how exactly Terra had managed it, she has a feeling that Y'shtola might already have guessed, given what she had seen in Brinndosi.]

I used my Esper form. It used up much of the magic I had at the time, but it was the only way I could move him quickly enough. I'm a bit stronger in that form, on top of being able to fly— though I made Clover promise not to tell him.

[She recalls how nervous Terra was about revealing that piece of herself to Y'shtola, as well. That was rather less of an emergency. That she was strong enough not only to lift him, but to carry him a distance too, is quite interesting indeed.]

When you refer to "using up" your magic, what do you mean, exactly? What would happen in the event of overuse, if that is possible for you at all?

Nothing terrible— it doesn't hurt me, if that's what you're asking.

[She never minds when Y'shtola asks questions about her or where she comes from, however, very much appreciating her friend's inquisitive mind and desire to learn. More people, she thinks, would do well to be as thoughtful and curious as Y'shtola.]

I tire, mostly. If I were to run out while in that form, I would revert and be unable to use any of the abilities linked to it, so it's fortunate that I didn't wear out before getting him to where he needed to be. Otherwise, using up magic just means exhausting it for a time... sleep is usually enough to bring it back, but there are tinctures that can restore a very small bit of it back home if there's no time to rest.

[She asks in part because she wishes to compare it to similar occurrences with aether, and because knowing Terra's limits as she knows them herself can only be beneficial to all of them.]

I see. We have similar concoctions in my world, though I lack them here and have not the knowledge to reproduce them.

[There are a few potions of varying sorts left behind in the clinic - and she locked them away and hid the key, for the most part. They are useful and nigh irreplaceable so she has them for emergencies only. Naturally this means she has at least two in various belt pouches always.]

An exhaustive drain of one's aether, which is the driving force behind the magicks of Hydaelyn, could incapacitate a person for many days, if not kill them outright from the strain. That this seems to be less of a worry for you and your kind is a blessing indeed.

Kill them?

[It seems a bit extreme to her, and her eyes widen just the slightest bit. Well... she supposes that's what happened to all the other Espers, as well. Exhausting themselves was one thing, but what the Empire had done...

It wasn't so different, was it?

She shakes her head, just once.]

I don't think that expending magic on my own could do that, but it is possible, if someone's magic is taken from them. They get... used up, until there's nothing left of them. Only the Empire ever managed that.

[She doesn't mean to bring up painful memories, and perhaps she should just lay these aside. If she can continue to frame it as simply a discussion of differing magicks...]

We endeavor not to have this happen to anyone, of course. The various magical disciplines studied in Eorzea place great emphasis upon drawing in and using the ambient aether of the world, rather than risk the drain upon your own.

[One ear turns aside a bit, and her hands still around her teacup.]

The Empire we face eschews reliance upon manipulation of aether, chiefly because they are themselves incapable of utilizing it. Instead they progress in the use of nonmagical technology.

[There's a certain degree of apathy when Terra discusses these things; they sadden her, surely, but these experiences are so much a part of who she is and so vital to her learning to embrace her other self that she can't simply pretend they never happened. Rather, it's better to let those memories strengthen her resolve— as Y'shtola said, her past will define her always, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing.

She nods slowly, considering.]

And that's what your world calls 'magitek,' right?

[Another parallel.]

I wonder if the Empire is jealous of those who can use that aether...

Quite possibly, though they do not present themselves to the rest of the world as such. Rather they comport themselves as superior, in that they have surpassed the necessary dependence upon aether they claim to believe hobbles our progress. Their advances in technology independent of aether use are unmatched in that regard, as I mentioned, and I take no pleasure in the compliment, nor do I make it lightly.

[Though she buries it deep and it has no place in this world, the Garlean Empire and her emissaries and machinations have taken much from Y'shtola, and she senses they shall continue their assault upon that which she holds most dear. It would not be too much hyperbole to suggest she hates them.]

[So many similarities, and yet the differences between Eorzea's Empire and her own are so critical that it's hard to believe two such powers could cause such destruction in so similar a way, motivated by differing beliefs.]

Yours is a world that thrives on magic, practically breathes aether itself, while magic is thought to be dead by most in my own.

[Her brow furrows slightly.]

There are so many parallels between the two, and yet in other ways, our worlds are complete opposites— people in your world fear primals, while the Espers in my own fear humans.

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