aetherialslumber | (no subject)

(no subject)

[ The Herald and his trusted pixie - well, faerie - were at home, like usual. Urianger having set up a small faerie bed on the desk next to his bed, looking to him with a soft smile. His gaze was a little confused, though. ]

My dearest Thancred. I've... did I fall asleep?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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?

Hm…? I am not the only historian here- nor the only one to have delved into its depths, nor into the deeper secrets of the world. Moreover- we record our history, and pass in on to the next generation- so that they might learn from it.

And yet, a calamity would make it all vanish. As mine did.

In which case- since you are here now, is there not something you could show us?

[ A pout, as he crossed his arms. ] And why would I?

'Twould serve as a reminder, would it not?

You act as if your kind deserve reminders. Is it not the goal of those damned fancy Ascians - as you call them - to bring back what was?

I believe that is correct. But I cannot say that it sits well with me- for the past to overtake the future. Better to learn from it, and take those lessons forwards.

...urgh. You won't give up, will you? Fine.

Tell me you at least have an instrument nearby.

I'm quite curious, after all.

Of course. Just this way, if you will. [He leads the way to another room- not too far from the main area, with a variety of instruments stored there.]. Which instrument do you prefer?

[ He quietly followed, nodding to himself, and soon saw... a harp. Perfect. He picked it up, and began to play.

The music was beautiful, alluring... and familiar, far too familiar. ]

[That he picks a harp is a relief- the Exarch had half feared Pan would ask for an instrument he doesn't know. The music, though- his expression turns surprised after a moment, his stance shifting.]

That melody…?

…I think I recognise it.. [Thancred's staring, fluttering in mid-air.]. It sounds like a song I used to hear in Limsa Lominsa.

[ He looks to the faerie, quietly. ]

Really now.