slavecrowned | empatheias: mailbox

[It's been an eventful few days, to be certain, and so Terra is not quite as cheerful as she might have been otherwise— but she smiles warmly all the same when Y'shtola comes into the room, straightening up in her seat in order to reach for her cup once it's been filled. The tea itself is certainly lovely, but more than that, Terra appreciates that teatime offers her the opportunity to simply sit and talk with someone whose company she truly enjoys— a novelty, still.]

Thank you— I'll admit, I don't know much about tea, but I guess that doesn't matter much when I do know what tastes good.

[Her smile turns a little sheepish as she moves to help herself to a spoonful of honey. She may not be an expert, but she's quickly developing a liking for tea as a whole, and sampling the different blends in Y'shtola's collection— it's so much more varied than what had been available to her in Vector, or even during her time in Figaro.]

You need know nothing of it at all in order to enjoy it.

[This, in particular, is a new herbal blend from the tea house; 'tis far too late in the evening for a more sturdy black or green, especially if Y'shtola wants anything to do with sleep in the next few hours.

She lifts her cup in both hands, staring into the faint reflection in the curface of her tea.]

We have all had too few chances to gather our strength anew of late, I fear.

You're right about that, thankfully.

[And enjoy it she does, especially when Y'shtola chooses the brew— she seems to have a knack for picking just the right one, while Terra is still steadily learning what she likes.

She takes a sip of her honeyed tea, letting the cup warm her fingers afterwards.]

Things have been pretty chaotic lately... there was Brinndosi, and then Arthur and Alisaie were both hurt, not to mention everything leading up to Merisia losing herself in the first place.

[Terra hadn't been involved in any of that directly, but by all accounts, it had been quite a whirlwind.]

I'm glad everything is quiet now, even if only for a little while.

As am I.

[Y'shtola adds nothing to her tea, preferring to savor its flavor components unadorned most of the time. Like Terra, she holds the cup fully with both hands, taking in its warmth for comfort.

The silence that stretches between them is comfortable. Unburdened. Y'shtola allows her thoughts to drift out of the immediate present, and inevitably they go to Arthur, to Alisaie, to Merisia. To the suffering friends who have occupied her worry these last days.

Her gaze shifts sidelong to Terra, then. Brinndosi brought the girl suffering, too, and seeing her friends in pain and peril can't have been a balm to it.]

You've not slept well.

[It is more of a guess than a certainty, but she's heard someone about the house at unusual hours, and one rarely does sleep as one ought while keeping watch over a friend.]

[Terra's eyes widen ever-so-slightly, and for a moment she looks like a much younger girl who fears she's been caught, but she shakes her head, conceding. No, she hasn't, and there's no shame in that, but:]

I hope I haven't disturbed you during odd hours.

[She's made every effort to be quiet, at least, and of course her first thought is that she might be troubling others, rather than the fact that her own rest has suffered. Of course, nightmares are nothing new, but after Brinndosi, they've been just a bit more vivid, focused on a series of particularly haunting moments.]

I've been feeling restless lately. My dreams have been...

[She pauses for a moment, pursing her lips slightly.]

I'm sure you can imagine.

[Quite the opposite; in order for Y'shtola to note movement in the house in the middle of the night, she must already be awake. So she gently shakes her head at Terra's worry, dismissing it wordlessly.]

Difficult? [Suggested with raised eyebrows and a small sip of tea.] I can scarce conceive of why that might be so.

[Of course, she jests; she saw Terra's nightmare firsthand, and has not forgotten it in the least. That looming abomination calling itself man, the utter madness of his laugh...what he proposed to do to the girl seated beside her. What he did, indeed.

She takes a steadying breath, lest anything begin to shake from shelves in the tremors of anger. 'Twould be misplaced. That fiend is not here before her, and Twelve pray for his soul if ever he is.]

Perhaps 'twas wrong of me to presume you already aware of this. [She looks over then and she is smiling, the sort that gently hides a secret thought.] Should the night's perils prove overwhelming, you need not bear the darkness alone.

[For half a moment, the note of sarcasm in Y'shtola's tone escapes her, and Terra almost launches forward with an explanation— only to stop herself just short of doing so and clearing her throat, shaking her head to clear it of that impulse. Of course, Y'shtola already knows why.

The offer isn't unlike the one that Arthur had made to her, and she nods her understanding.]

I would hate to trouble anyone who is able to rest, but thank you.

[Even with what Y'shtola knows and has seen, there is always more to tell, and yet Terra still worries about placing too much of a burden on any of the people around her, now that she understands just how difficult some things are to hear.]

I've been talking to Arthur, some... he keeps late nights.

Have you now?

[In some ways, she knew about that as well. At least once she has risen to find Arthur himself soundly sleeping in their living room; when assured he was but a late visitor, and not in need of help, she let any future sightings gently go. The tendency of all those wandering into the Scions' home to be desperate in some way is not easy to forget, even after all this time.

None of which matters much to their present conversation.]

I sincerely hope you find some peace in talking together. [A careful sip of her tea.] 'Twould scarce surprise me to hear he sought company at all bells even whilst injured as he is. Days and nights have a tendency to meld with one another.

[She nods— Terra had felt uncertain about taking up on his offer to talk at any time at first, but she doesn't think she's interrupted his sleep in doing so just yet, and he always seems to welcome the break from whatever work he's lost himself in.]

It has helped bring some peace of mind— and so does talking with you, I hope you know.

[To be honest, all of the friendships she's forged here have become incredibly important to her, and yet she feels guilty for not fully realizing the importance of the bonds she'd formed back home before coming here. Coming to a world that was fueled by emotions made it so much easier for her to appreciate those feelings themselves in a way she had never been able to before.]

I think you're right. Recovering not only makes people restless, but it can get very lonely, especially when you're unable to do everything you're used to. I don't know if our talks have helped him, but they've definitely helped me.

[That's all Y'shtola needed to hear. What matters is that Terra has someone with whom she might examine her hardships. It certainly need not be Y'shtola herself.]

Given his penchant for mentioning you by name at the slightest breeze, it is safe to presume he feels as you do about your conversations.

[But she does wish Terra would lift her chin a bit. She's hardly given herself time to breathe, which naturally will drain a person, and yet this particular mix of determined and downtrodden has some source Y'shtola can't determine. Perhaps it is the nightmares after all.]

May I ask after what is on your mind this moment?

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.

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