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0 and 8 (Closed, Video -> Action)
[After the disaster involving false ghosts and true prisoners, Ted had much anxiety and little direction. An aimless, nagging inclination to do something pulled at his heart. Despite the loss of one dearly beloved, he found his head clearer. Or at least, more focused, more willful about his role in the world and how to fulfill it. Despite the Genessia's slack, he felt now, more than ever, he must redouble his efforts and unravel every mystery, and save every soul. And he had an idea of who might help.
Coincidentally, it was this day on the dot that he'd spoke to her last. Goodness, were they really so antisocial that talk was a yearly occurrence? Well, better late than never. What a mercenary talk it would be, too. What a scoundrel he is to strike up meeting largely because he wanted something. Well, he's young. If she's old, she'll understand the disparity. He rang her up.]
Good afternoon, Satori. Long time no see, eh? I've a question, and if I get my preferred answer, an action, to pose to you, if you're willing.
Coincidentally, it was this day on the dot that he'd spoke to her last. Goodness, were they really so antisocial that talk was a yearly occurrence? Well, better late than never. What a mercenary talk it would be, too. What a scoundrel he is to strike up meeting largely because he wanted something. Well, he's young. If she's old, she'll understand the disparity. He rang her up.]
Good afternoon, Satori. Long time no see, eh? I've a question, and if I get my preferred answer, an action, to pose to you, if you're willing.
[Closed - Video > Action]
"Oh. Yes..."
After such a long time that they haven't really spoken to one-another, and even their typical good-natured intellectual ribbing had fallen to a minimum, the mind-reader puts a finger to her temple, as if to ward off some sort of headache that she knows is coming if Ted starts talking about religion, idealism or some ridiculous plan.
She seems, occasionally, to look away from the camera and down to her hand, out of frame.
"I've lost quite a bit of will to do much else, these days, but I'll humour you. I-..." Her voice wavers a bit... "...Nevermind. Go ahead. What's the matter?"
no subject
Good; you know how I enjoy humor. Well, my question's this: do you think you could discern between a real and a false beast?
[He's softened up on the subarchway thing, so to keep her thoughts from supposing he would rant upon the same soapbox, he'll provide another example.]
For example, one reared by nature, organically, as opposed to one reconstructed out of hard light, or something equally artificial?
no subject
"...I most certainly can, if I try. Having been around enough animals, I'd judge myself to be decent at puzzling a question like yours out. I should hope your good-humoured request doesn't end in something horrid."
Despite trying to recover herself a bit, she still does look haggard from stress. It isn't a good sign in any case, but even investigating this odd request alongside someone as abrasive to her as Ted might help her.
Not in moving on, that is, but from her inertia. She's resigned that to the depths of incapability.
"Where are your potentially-illusory animals, then? Don't tell me you ran into some type of youkai out in the forests, or else I'll have to ask you to stay clear. I don't relish the thought of you meeting an early end."
suddenly, prose
"Aheh, well, if all goes well, they may appear more real than all you've known since we've been in the world. If you're up to the task of identifying one so solid and novel..."
That's a nice way of saying that the ones populating the subarchway, or the deluge of Pokemon they'd had months ago, were just as hollow as if they'd stepped from a hologram.
"...Windgate Creek is my hunch. That said, my thoughts are open to you, and not all of them will be pleasant. If that won't try your tolerance too much, let's meet outside the Waterway."
Re: suddenly, prose
And she hangs up.
Some time later, nearby the Waterway's entrance. She'd taken the longer path leading upwards, out of the Chireiden sub-archway. Satori has set herself up nearby the entrance. As usual, the youkai is looking quite dour and displeased, though considering her earlier attitude in the video-call, she still bears an air of tiredness, despite putting on a brave face.
Assuming Ted won't ambush her right away, Satori seems altogether more vulnerable than she did, beforehand. She almost seems uncertain that she should even be outside at all, looking around for a moment or two. Nothing felt right since she confined herself to her home a little while ago.
She tries to locate Ted from following his ambient thoughts, just in case he figured taking his time would be any way endearing. She declares...
"I haven't been to Windgate Creek at all, so you will have to lead the way, Ted. I know you're not too far from here and you still do an ill job surprising me..."
Re: suddenly, prose
"You ask too much for a psychic."
The animal he had in mind was given away instantly: a horse. He could well picture them, idling in their stalls. Stamping, snorting, whinnying. He even pictured the rustic barns housing them, and the dry lands of Windgate Creek containing the whole thing. As usual, Ted's thoughts dithered and led to others. He wondered whether telepathy could communicate by images, and how clearly.
"Then this may be a good novelty for you. It's not far; hardly half an hour." He wondered whether she'd prefer to hold hands. She's certainly old enough, but he wasn't sure of the custom.
As they walked, other thoughts percolated. Should she be so sad when Koishi was there? But then again, she'd never been very good at handling negative emotions, had she? If it wasn't frothing or frivolous, Koishi had always seemed faint about the subject.
Ted could tell by her face that times were more trying than usual. He'd never liked Remilia--tall order for one so hostile towards the faith--, but he certainly empathized with missing one liked a great deal. Thoughts and images of those he missed surfaced; Namur, Sans, Satsuki, Sync, and many more. Dozens of faces and voices, all blurred with absence.
And yet, despite being so similar, Ted's mind was wholly different. Though few were further from a hermit's mind than his, it owed to more than just temperament. He'd had the experience of loss so often that sorrow became serenity. Like tides scouring a beach, or tears washing a face, the total effect was one of simplicity and cleanliness.
It was out of that simplicity that, despite the fact of telepathy, he offered pleasantries.
"How have you been?"
Re: suddenly, prose
"...Not well, of late. Koishi's been trying harder to keep my spirits up, but I always feel a weight tugging me down. And while you have your own opinions and ideas, at least you're kind enough to dispense with your riddling and rhetoric to realize I've...been hurt. We are like oil and water at times, but I suppose you'll permit me a moment to air my sorrows, won't you...?"
It took her a moment to put her words together as she walked with him, but she added nonetheless, not waiting for much of an answer...
"I'll be honest with you: While I've lost many I cared about, this year, Remilia certainly struck me the hardest. While you may not feel the same about her as I did, I felt more belonging with her than almost anyone else here. A rare thing to say, for someone like myself. To be truthful...I was angry when I found out she left. Not because I felt she abandoned me, but because I felt that I cared so much for her...and now I have precious little to remember it all by..."
Except that ring on her finger, which she still fiddled with as she grew anxious during her side of the talk. As if it could bring her the comfort she lost.
"The others, too...I knew them well and let their cloying friendships into my aged, gnarled heart. While it stings, I don't regret all those meetings and partings."
For all Namur's confusing antics about Koishi, their last meeting or two ended on an unpleasant note. She hadn't had a chance to make it right. And then, there was Satsuki...
"...Lady Satsuki gave Koishi and I so much help and companionship in those early days in Genessia. She even saw fit to introduce me to some of her friends, albeit, forcefully. In fact, it was her who convinced Koishi to start cracking open my apathetic shell, really. Without her, I would hardly have left Chireiden at all."
She shook her head, her dull eyes lightening up a little as she released her inner stress, little by little.
"Something we both agree on, Ted, is that losing someone we care for only reminds us of what else we've lost. Unlike you, though, I...can't quite fathom the way you seem to push aside the pain - from the outside, it seems as if you ignore it and stay in good spirits, but that clearly isn't true."
no subject
"...Well, you've memory. That's enough."
He smiled in surprise at Satsuki, or as he dubbed her, "Star"'s mention. "Goodness. Were there any whose benefactor she wasn't?" Her continual out pour, both to him and others, sorely resembled that angelic woman and her vases by the river. Seems there was something else he owed her.
"She ousted you? Bless her. I'm happy to continue the custom."
Satori's mention of friendship and apathy dimmed the gratitude. Through deduction, pattern recognition, and a great deal of thought, Ted had come to explain disappearances through their deadly apathy.
He wished he could've dammed these thoughts before they burst, but given his ready and impulsive mind, there's no helping it. These are the dangers he warned her about before they began. He can only hope her acceptance was sincere.
"Friend" was a relation he'd grown to take very seriously. He'd read Aristotle and Aquinas about what it meant, and concluded that he'd never had or known it. The meanings varied, but even the least of them excluded the total apathy that conquered the perished. It was a hard fact to accept; that those he loved so much had, in the end, come to love neither him nor anything else one whit. That existence, or as much as Genessia offered, meant nothing to them, and for nothing they threw it away.
How could he--how could anyone, be friends with one like that? A vast chasm lie between those who love, even badly, and those who don't. The latter could still be loved, and Ted meant to, but befriended? No, no. Their souls were too dark and too far.
He'd tried all he could think to spare them that fate. Praying, begging, exhorting, encouraging. Namur was his final attempt. He'd tried to bind him with an oath. Namur accepted, but it was vain. Unsurprisingly, apathy had sapped the strength necessary to keep one's word. All had failed, and Ted was finally brought to a truth and a choice.
The truth was that no matter what he is or did, Ted would never be enough to save people from that darkness. For a fervent believer like him, who thought often of salvific things, that was an extremely hard pill to swallow. The choice was that, knowing that, will he still try? He might've perished in despair; shared the doom that had claimed so many. The only other choice was that, knowing he couldn't accomplish the good he wanted, would he still draw breath to accomplish what little, slight good he could?
That he's here, talking and walking with Satori, meant the latter. In so doing he'd accepted defeat and laid down his arms. The frustration of every effort, and his acquiescence to the unyielding principle behind them all, meant he could finally rest. At least for now.
He thought it a small pity he had to talk now. He'd memorized Genessia's roads so well that he had ample time to observe Satori's eyes and how they gradually grew light. He'd have listened forever if only that effect could continue. Alas, the dangerous thoughts weren't finished.
"...Have you ever heard the tale of Orpheus?"
no subject
Ah yes, she thinks back. Despite writing many stories of her own, Satori equally devoured knowledge when she could. She was often alone, these days, but she remembered with a faint bitterness how Remi would tell her about some of the things she'd read, as well.
While all that was gone, now, she had to keep herself from falling apart somehow. And even if it was Ted she was dealing with, her scan of his surface thoughts only communicate an air of defeat and acceptance. Perhaps he'd grown out of his crusading and preaching, but his wit still somewhat remained. Satori could at least take some comfort in that.
Even so, for someone who liked to talk as much as she did and despite her unpleasant mood, it was also somewhat of a slight comfort to exposit exotic tales to the normally closed-minded Ted. Perhaps he might turn around a little, as empty as he felt his efforts had been. Or maybe they'd just end up jabbing at eachother's psychological wounds by mistake. How foolish of her to continue with this...
But they were both the same in some ways. Both were tired of losing things, and this tale was also one of loss. Still, she felt it needed to be told.
"Though I've had my fill of sadness, I'd like to hear more of your thoughts on it. A tale for a tale, Ted, more than a fair trade for the favour I'm already granting you. We might both learn something valuable from this exchange, after all."
no subject
"Oh, no, he didn't flee from her. He loved her far too much for that; a far more faithful lover than Izanagi. Aheh, you'll find the Occident's myths compare favorably." Nor was there any oath to exterminate 500 Japanese every day, nor the counter-proposition to produce a thousand. Ted had the strange fortune to meet the spurned Izanami, or at least the insane woman claiming the identity.
The myth of Orpheus was one Ted felt very keenly; indeed, he'd find any inhuman who didn't. "All right. Well, Orpheus was the greatest poet men had before Shakespeare; a preternaturally gifted singer, likely owing to his divine parentage from Apollo. His music could strike louder and sweeter than even the sinister songs of the sirens, a ward that the Argonauts appreciated very much on their sailing adventures.
But the best tale is this. His wife, Eurydice, was struck on the heel by a serpent bite and died."
He couldn't resist thinking of the biblical allusion. But this Greek tale wasn't as sacred as that.
"Naturally he turned to his talent, music, and produced such mourning that the gods themselves and sundry wept with him. They were so moved that they advised him to go to the Underworld and retrieve her from its depths. His songs spurred the hearts of Hades and Persephone both, who would grant this reversal of death on one condition: that he not turn back and face her till both were utterly out of the Underworld."
Again, he couldn't help but think of Lot's unfaithful wife and her salty fate.
"Alas, this is a tragedy, not a comedy, and he did just that once he passed the threshold. Because she was a few feet behind him, the underworld's clause still bound, and she was taken again, this time forever. This solidified Orpheus in sorrow, and he swore never again to love another woman."
He paused a moment, constant smile dimming as he necessarily had to finish the sad tale.
"He died soon after, of course. All tragic heroes must. Why he did is a matter of some dispute. His refusal to love another earned the scorn of a number of madwomen, who tore him apart in their fury. Pity he wasn't a legendary warrior in addition to a legendary singer, eh? Or perhaps it was that the gods had it out for him; Orpheus showed immeasurable hubris in trying to defy the laws of the Underworld, and so some say the Eurydice he saw was but an apparition, doomed from the start. His refusal to join her in death meant that death must, by extension, go to him. Eurydice does, after all, mean 'wide, extending justice'."
And now the smile was back in full as he thought of Orpheus' rebellion. Ted found the tale very inspiring for that. No matter how many he lost, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were still here, in some sense. Not the "gone home" soft soap so many peddled to assuage their feelings, but something. Perhaps that shady, ghost-like existence it was said those in the Underworld or Gehenna still experience. And if they were still here, was it not possible that Ted could meet them still? And if meeting, why not rescuing? Could it be that his focus was all the wrong way? Orpheus did not seek to undo the snake bite. He did not study antidotes; didn't cart her corpse to doctors in the vain hope of a cure. He didn't make war on serpent-kind. When his beloved went to hell, he didn't stop the journey before it started. He simply went to hell himself; to beat death, he would meet death.
Unconsciously he looked up towards Genessia's dome, where the sky was mere window-dressing for the horrible wasteland and empty spirits that lay beyond. If Genessia had an Underworld, it was not below, but beside. If they're anywhere, they must be there. All he had to do was meet death himself. Wasn't that a common element in all rescue? To save a drowning man, one must brave water. To save one in a building burning, one must brave fire. To save one from the clutches of death...
He tittered again, a little nervous about how Satori would take all this. "Simply going past the grave to pluck her out...there's something in that, eh?"
no subject
Satori then looks ahead, to see where exactly Ted was taking her. Most of them time, she never considered it, even if she only went to precious few places, these days.
"I suspect it will be much harder, here. After all, death comes here with a loss of memories or erasure of personality - the essence of the self, the 'soul' perhaps. Every death we suffer in this world, aside from being returned home, we will lose what makes us uniquely 'us'? Are you willing to trade pieces of yourself - to burn your candle short and burn your selfhood away - just to rescue the fallen? If so...that is much braver than I gave you credit for, Ted. I suppose, of course, your harrowing in the past few months has worn away some of your reverse-altruism. As it has with my optimism that this world will be understood..."
She thinks to Koishi, peaceful in her subconciously-minded way. She both cared too little for some things and too much for others. But it was her that made her aware of more than she'd ever understand about this place on her own. It's her turn to look above, to the dome and the implication of an outside with no future...
"If you mean to rope me into a crusade outwards of this safe haven, I will have to think about it. I said, when I arrived, that I would find more about this world, but with Mewtwo long gone and my network of friends and allies vanishing every passing season, I haven't the luxury of playing detective and sorting through other people's findings. If it means I would regain those I knew as friends and those I loved...perhaps the jaws of death better suit youkai rather than a mortal. I, at least, may have some chance of coming back with less changed than you might be."
Another pause, this one much, much longer...
"As deluded as you were and as foolish a Fool as you are, perhaps you have a kernel of truth that I do not. Perhaps not. But I would rather see the outside of this gilded cage for myself and learn its mysteries before trying to call forth the dead and lost."
no subject
Change? Yes, certainly, death changes its trespassers. Didn't it denude them? Izanagi was so ugly that Izanami rejected her, and in that rejection, proved herself just as nasty inside as out. What mother worth her salt would ever even think to slay her own children? Death showed her for what she was. It seemed to have no effect on Orpheus and Eurydice, who were decent, as far as pagans go, and knew each other at once.
After all, Death is in the middle of the Trumps, not the end. He'd have to be dealt with eventually. Would that deal involve denial of self? Certainly, certainly. Indeed, Ted wouldn't much care for a self that wouldn't give itself up for love or rescue. And the rescued? Might death have changed them into someone or something wholly estranged from who he knew?
He laughed and accepted the terms again. It was ridiculous, and exactly his intent. He would save them, even if, so changed, they did not know each other. He desired so strongly that even ugliness, theirs or his, could not deter. Then he thought of Satori, and how her experience with much inner ugliness might have steeled her for the same.
"Haven't the luxury? Huh. My experience has been all the other way. Loss of loved ones has afforded all the time in the world to think of them and where and how they are. Thoughts, heh, you're no doubt seeing acutely."
A pang of doubt stirred when she mentioned her possible entanglement. That was his greatest fear not a few months ago; hurting others, chiefly by involving them with his quests. When those quests proved to be vain and false, it only stung worse. For a while that fear controlled him and made him reclusive, so shy was he of even the slightest chance of inadvertently causing them pain for nothing. And yet they always agreed. Why did they agree? Ted's persuasion? Or their charity?
The pang passed. On his ill-fated ride aboard a "Ghost Train", that guilt had literally consumed and conflagrated him, and then he'd learned that it did no one any good. That wasn't the way. If he wishes to stop vain pains, the best he could do is remove the vanity, and pursue good quests, not the pains, which would come whatever they did.
"...May this be a good quest. We've arrived." His boots splashed the shallow waters of The Bay, which held the archway to Windgate Creek. The location made it significant to him. He'd long regarded Genessia City to be superior to the rest for its refusal to entertain subarchways. It demanded staying exactly itself, with no blemishes from those who'd impose their unrealities. Why, then, was Windgate seated in its center?
He escorted her through the glistening caverns and into the wild west.
At long last! The triumphant return!
The transition between the familiar underground areas leading beneath the Bay and the rest of the city wasn't such a shock, anymore. She'd been here for years and it hadn't floored her as much as Windgate Creek did. The first thing she noticed was the heat and dust of the area wasn't quite the same as Old Hell. The smell of the air pricked her acute youkai senses and momentarily overwhelmed her. The warmth of the area, while not quite the same, left the land much more dry. Even if life and acccess was restored to this place not too long ago, it still felt, to her, like something in the land was truly dead.
The town of Windgate Creek, at least, drew some similarities...
"...This place isn't quite the same, architecturally, but reminds me of what I've been told of the Human Village, in broad strokes. Either way, it smells true enough, if the stench of garbage, manure and general human activity is assaulting my senses..." She looks around, taking in the sights and sounds of Western ambience. Once again, the people she might see without pendants weren't as 'real' as the others were. But Ted had said that about all things that come from sub-archways, perhaps.
She tries not to let any thoughts from the inhabitants get to her on the way there. While she doesn't quite hide behind Ted, she seems to keep a lower profile, hushing her voice to a whisper. She still, however, doesn't stop the scathing words. Not a chance.
"Ted, I've been thinking. If what you say /is/ true about the sub-archways, wouldn't that be true of the archways, as well? I'm...increasingly beginning to wonder if this entire thing is nothing but a memoriam for someone else - that even us, who shape these new worlds...are ourselves remembered by those who made this place."
Satori quiets down as people start to watch her, looking at her third eye, judging her. Or so she assumes, at least. The townspeople are more than likely a little suspicious, even if she's never set foot into this place. Or likely, because of it. Despite herself, she looks visibly uncomfortable and reaches out to grab Ted's sleeve.
"...Let's find a shortcut. I'm--" She shakes her head, rubbing her temples... "...sick of people watching me, again. Watching us. Another reminder of the worst time of our lives." Judging by the emphasis, it's likely that the 'us' would refer to only one person, too. And unlike the outing Ted and Satori shared some years past, this feeling wasn't mild embarrassment or confusion. It was, in a word, dread. Dread and disgust.
OBOI
He smiled at her theory. "Yes, that's exactly right. All empty, here as there. Didn't the pamphlets say as much?" He could've sworn they'd mentioned something about none of the inhabitants being real. He felt very silly for acting otherwise for so many years. Now that he'd come to regard these people as no people at all, he had an easy time ignoring them. Satori, it seemed, did not.
"Sorry for the trouble; let's not take it too seriously. We may as well be the only two souls in the world, unless one of the farmers is about. Speaking of which, we're almost there."
Spurred on by her anxiety, Ted quickly led the way to one of the unowned barns. Wouldn't want to trespass on the farm of another. The scent of hay and animal offal grew stronger, they were so close until finally, he saw it.
It was a small farm, with only two in the stable. It was a plain, brown mare with a black mane, staring blankly at them. Ted stared back, feeling a pang of promise.
"All right, Satori. This is it. Tell me what you see in it, if anything."
AND IT ONLY CONTINUES.
"...It doesn't seem all that different to a normal horse, to be honest. This doesn't feel too much unusual. It's wondering why we're watching it and feels a little nervous. I suppose that does add a little dent in your theory of beings without pendants being of lesser value in terms of sentience."
She could probably read an animal's emotional output better than most, not only having an eye for thoughts, but the body language of beasts. She struck back, surprisingly able to fight back on a philosophical front...
"If you were trying to prove this was merely an imitation of a horse and that it would have an obvious tell that it was imitating one, I suppose this must be a disappointment. And yet, even if these animals aren't the same - or those without pendants are 'different' from us, or the worlds in the sub-archways are just constructions of memory and ideas - what will it do to scorn them for being 'unreal'? I see no reason to disparage them when we arrived here from nothing and might return to nothing."
Satori turned to look at him, then back to the horse. She moved over to pat its mane and comfort it a little. Quietly, she added...
"No, please. Don't be alarmed. We simply have a lot to talk about."
Another pause as she listened to its mind, gathering what she could, giving it little suggestions to probe into what it knew. Even so, its thoughts were still very much like a horse ought to be. She returned to Ted, whispering...
"If the world outside is as you say it is, perhaps this world is a reflection of what it once was - recollections of something vaster than we can understand. A walking, waking elegy of a half-remembered place. In some ways, thinking of Genessia like that is terrifying. Or a comfort - that in some small way, the 'unreal' and 'real' that exist here are a legacy of life that can still be."
no subject
"Aheh, I think we've very different definitions of 'normal.'" He thought every horse on the planet was abnormal, as any artificial one would be. If he could find one normal out of so many that weren't, he'd fall on his knees and be tempted to worship a beast so strange.
Satori mentioned nothing; a poignant word, given the constant companionship of his void. "'Ex nihilio nihil fit.' Are our beginnings so bleak?"
At any rate, disparaging wasn't the goal. Quite the opposite: Ted had hoped, due to the strange circumstances of these farms, that they'd prove to house something significant. No such luck, apparently. Still..."a life that can still be", she said. There's another avenue he can try yet.
"Thank you for the attempt anyway, Satori. Alas, I must push my luck and beg another favor. Will you produce your phone and message the spirits about what they intend with all this?" He gestured widely to the farms. "I've a significant intuition about them. I'd do so myself, but they're coy with me; they keep their cards close to vest, believing answers will drive me to lunacy."
He chuckled in good humor and humility, glancing playfully. "Ridiculous, I know."