aetherialslumber | (no subject)

I know not. Besides - I doubt that Elidibus would gift thee aid now.

...sometimes, Exarch, souls from the past awaken. In my case, the being known as Pan sometimes overtakes me as well. A mind from before the Sundering. He grows quieter, but is another complication. But-- [ his voice suddenly turns twisted, angry-- ] Nothing is ever simple, is it?

…ah. Yes, I fear I doubt that. I was imagining… collecting the memories myself- ah, not in such a way as to harm anyone.

From the past…? But…. [He shakes his head- ears pressing back.]. It's more than I would have wished to deal with. But I will do my best, regardless.

It would be best if we began with those here. Those willing. [ He puts a hand to Thancred... ]

...it is cruel. It is bad. I dislike the whole thing.

[Thancred reaches out, fluttering a little.]. My memories are yours to use. Though- since we are from separate shards- would that affect it?

If we focus on remembering Urianger as he is before us now- I believe not. But I

…I can't say I have much fondness for it. There is much to be learned from the past, of course, but- we live in the present.

I believe in you, Thancred.

...I don't like it either. Would that we could silence the voice. The soul who does not find his own fate cruel - ah, he wished not to die.

But the past is the past.

[[-cannot promise it absolutely, is what I meant to finish that off with. @@]]

[He gives a grin at that.]. I won't let you down.

Then perhaps we ought to convince him of such. The future is in well enough hands- so I believe.

[ Urianger sighed, closing his eyes. ] He's a stubborn bastard.

I promise I can be just as stubborn.

...I shall awaken him, them. He's fighting to speak--

[ And suddenly, with a shudder, he pulls away from the Exarch. ] --stop touching me with your crystal.

Ah- Pan, I assume? My apologies. I hadn't realised that my arm would bother you.

It looks far too sickly. Like an illness I once observed in my travels... But, yes - my name is Pan.

Like- stoneblight, or-? [Ah, no- he's older than that, isn't he.]. A pleasure. I am called the Crystal Exarch, and I have the honour of looking after this city. Might I be able to help you?

No, no. Some foolish people would try and harness Creation magic without being some of those who were born with it, and would corrupt their very body, and perhaps even those of people nearby. [ He gives a shrug. ]

It seems the one who I'm forced to live with thinks you can convince me that my life isn't worth living.

I see. That sounds quite terrifying. I would say you are justified in your concern, but I assure you there is no reason for alarm.

…After a fashion. The world has changed greatly from what it once was- so what is it that you seek in this time?

I wish simply to live. My life was stolen far too quickly - I never chose death.

Not all can choose that. Our friend wishes to live as well, though- so tell me. What happened to you?

I fell in what the ones known as Ascians now call the Sundering. After my home fell, I thought I could return... but was claimed, before I could do anything.

By the Sundering, and subsequent transformation of the world? Then- what is it you would wish to do?

To live. Your people have forgotten the melodies I gifted, the paths I made - all that I did is to become nothing?

…it has been a long time. But since you are here now- could we not revive them? See if they have survived?

How could they have been? This world is... so very weak. Even if the girls are still pretty.

Assuming they were important to someone, they may well have done their best to remember. The people's spirit can be very strong.

[Thancred makes a small sound.]. That's… quite unexpected, from Urianger's mouth.. [Not that… he's disagreeing? It's just odd.]

[ A roll of his eyes. ] I'm nothing like Urianger, little one.

And what you know of remembering, sickly one?

And yet you share the same soul, do you not? 'Tis most curious.

[He smiles, a little.] Perhaps a little more than you might think. This Tower was constructed to hold the knowledge of an ancient past- and in time became the symbol of hope, that what was once buried might rise again, to help those peoples living in their future.

And yet, who remembers, other then you? Who will carry on remembering, lest this tower become but a forgotten monument?