#darian speaks

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

this post got me to go find a recording of devin's voicelines and god. they truly go so hard. the best part of them to me isn't even the long speech to godwyn/fia but the part AFTER when you actually interact with him. the fucking. audible smile in his voice when he says "hello! the rotten witch is dead :) " the way it borders on an almost delirious giggle. the whole thing is like, the va did such a good job selling the simultaneous grief and rage and disgust and vindictive joy it's sooo delicious to me. they could never make me hate you devin you will always be iconic in my heart

[stormvanari]

favorite Titan’s Councilor gets redrawn a year and a couple months later (left is today, right dates back to June 2022)

[hereforyourdispleasure]

Well heeeeello sailor 🧐😏

[commissionsdarian]

You are not alright, you have mentioned it.

We're... We don't know.

I'm alright. It's ok to not know how you are, just make sure to look after yourselves

[undercut-mcqueer]

How do you feel about this slander ✋

im cackling LMSDKLFJSKL

[irrepressible-miracle]

You know how people draw characters with their pokemon team? I wanna do that but it's instead of pokemon it's de skills instead

[honeyedraysofgold]

I'm alive, I still think about this game and my roommate has just started the game so now he can live through the questline

I was explaining Elden Ring lore to my roommate tonight and I-

I'm upset about the D twins again

Why would they just add that little nugget of interesting lore, why add the "two minds, two bodies, one spirit" thing that's "reviled" and just do nothing with it other than give the armor amd sword a reason to be like that.

They could have just been regular twins and the questline would have no different an impact on them, Fia, or the story of ER as a whole. Why not have at least one piece of dialog about at least?

[wraith-caller]

D, Beholder of Death, or Devin, is probably among one of the most hated NPCs in the game. Which is amazing because he has barely two minutes total of dialog which is easily missed if you don't do things a certain way. We know very, very little about him, and hell, some people don't even realize he's an entirely separate character from his brother Darian(D, Hunter of the Dead)! So what can we glean about him from his beyond-minor appearance in the game? A surprising amount! 🚨🚨SPOILERS AHEAD🚨🚨

I. A Recap Devin can be found at the Siofra Aqueduct in Nokron, just before the Valiant Gargoyle fight. If you find him before Darian has been killed, he'll be asleep and unresponsive. Once you return to him after Darian's murder, he will be disoriented and awake, and you can hand off the Twinned Set to him. This allows him to be summoned for the Gargoyle fight, and will move him to Deeproot Depths. There, he will show up after the Fortissax fight to deliver a monologue to Godwyn(and Fia's corpse) before disappearing, presumably having killed himself. II. The Silver Twin

The Twinned Set i a piece of armor made specifically for Devin and Darian rather than standard garb of the Hunters. While I've seen claims that the twins' soul is in some way bound to the armor, this assumption falls apart on closer inspection. There are pragmatic concerns about how such an arrangement worked out for a pair of shunned newborns. But there's also the far more straightforward fact that Devin can wake and speak to us before receiving the armor, so long as Darian is dead. He can also jump up and aggro us without having the armor if we killed Darian in Limgrave. So it's fairly clear that their soul is linked to their body rather than their armor, and it is their state of consciousness which allows for movement of the soul between their two bodies. Still, the armor is plenty specific to these twins, displaying two intertwined figures which are worn by one body. The armor is symbolic of their inseparable soul, each half representing one of the two twins. The golden one stands taller, carrying its own weight as well as that of the smaller, silver one which clutches it. While the golden half is modeled as fairly straightforward plate armor, the silver half is made to resemble an unarmored body, dressed in flowing robes instead, and thus, the more vulnerable of the two. Which half is which? A side by side comparison of the twins' skin and hair color may provide some insight.

<-- Darian's skin and hair RGB Devin's skin and hair RGB -->

Darian's is warmer, and just the tiniest bit more saturated. This results in Devin's tones looking cooler and grayer in comparison. Naturally, we can use that as a bit of a reference point to make the claim that Darian is represented by the gold half and Devin by the silver half. This can be supporte further by little tidbits about the characters - Darian is met above ground, beneath the golden light of the Erdtree, while Devin is met in the city of the Nox, who are associated with silver.

But perhaps most interesting are the implications provided by their character traits. As mentioned above, the gold half of the armor exudes strength and stability. It stands on its own two feet and is the main component which the silver half leans on for support. This is reflected in Darian's behavior when compared against Devin's. Darian is stalwart, steady, calm, ready to protect. Devin is, at least in the moment in which we encounter him, more emotionally fragile, broken, delicate, clinging tenaciously to life only long enough to have his revenge against his brother's murderer.

Could this give us any clues about the dynamic between the twins? It's hard to say, given that we don't exactly get to know Devin until after one of, if not the, worst day of his life. Maybe before Darian's death he was just as calm and amicable as Darian. There's reason to think, though, that much like the golden half of the armor, Darian was the one to primarily care for and protect his other half. For one, in spite of being twins, the game makes sure to specify to us that Devin is the younger. This automatically evokes a certain dynamic, the assumption being that the younger sibling may rely on the elder for guidance and protection. Then there is Darian's apparent choice to keep Devin's existence something of a secret, even to a long time traveling companion. Rogier's note tells us that "it seems" Darian has a brother, indicating Devin is someone Rogier hasn't known about until recently. He doesn't even mention him by name in the letter. Darian made a decision to keep Devin a secret, and it could have been to protect him. The protector/protected dynamic is further enhanced by Darian's idle stance which often shows him cradling the head of the silver twin, the bust serving as a reminder of his younger brother who he took it upon himself to care for in a world where no others would.

So where would that leave Devin? It's possible that a pattern of dependence could have emerged, given the nature of their curse. Only one can be awake at a time, and if Darian were to preside over the daytime hours as implied by their 'day/night' duality, this would have left Devin alone in the night. It'd be less likely that he is the one performing necessary daily tasks, as the rest of the world would be asleep at this time. He'd be left to his own devices, and free from obligations typically undertaken during the day which would risk interaction with a populace that was entirely hostile to them. Would Devin have come to see Darian as something of a barrier between himself and this world that hated him?

III. The Golden Order

I've gone over how monumental the acceptance of the Golden Order would've been for this pair of shunned twins in my post on Darian. As a refresher for anyone unaware, what little info we get of the D twins tells us that they were born cursed, sharing a single soul between themselves. As a consequence of this curse, they were rejected by all societies except the Golden Order. That should make it pretty clear as to why the D twins serve the Golden Order with such fervor. They haven't really got any other option. It's also bound to be pretty world-changing for them to be told that they are worthy of acceptance by the empire founded by the goddess of the world herself. Who could possibly be a higher authority on the matter than that? After a lifetime of shunning and rejection, these two pariahs have finally found a place that will let them call it home. But nothing in life is free, right? The pair are put to work, or perhaps volunteered themselves. We can't really know, though there would have been a pretty intriguing implication about this if the original 1.0 text had been preserved for the item description of Devin's clothes, which indicates the twins could have been slaves at some point. At any rate, Darian is specified to now be a Hunter of the Dead, while Devin's role is more ambiguous. It's commonly held that he takes on the same job, which is a fair enough assumption. It could also be possible that he is set to scholarly tasks, given that "fundamentalism is scholarship in all but name". This, in some ways may be corroborated by Devin's use of fundamentalist incantations not used by Darian, who primarily uses beast incantations, as well as the fact that Devin is equipped with the Golden Order seal, which demands a higher INT and FAI stat than the Clawmark seal used by Darian. Regardless of any of that, Devin appears to have been sent on a new mission, something related to but not altogether the same as Darian's weeding of the deathroot. Rogier's letter tells us of Devin's location within Nokron, mentioning, "And it's said he stood before the Prince of Death not far beyond that spot." So Devin has clearly been to the roots of the Erdtree. We know this isn't a place one can just wander into - it's highly sacred, so much so that not even the other demigods slain on the Night of the Black Knives were interred there. It was an honor reserved only for Godwyn. It's a tall order to rationalize a random Tarnished no one like Devin being permitted to go there without invitation, especially not under Morgott's watch. The path through Nokron is wholly inaccessible until Radahn's death, with the Fallen Hawks, who have wandered the city for god knows how long, being unable to find a way out, and Ranni being unable to find a way in. So it's fairly unreasonable to think Devin somehow managed to get into Nokron when no one else could. This leaves only one alternative path, which is taken via Leyndell, and it is certainly not one Devin chose to take on a hunch or a whim for his own interests. IV. Plumbing the Depths of the Order

Beneath Leyndell, we can find the Shunning Grounds of the Omen living within the sewers. Traveling deeper still, we can find the Cathedral of the Forsaken, guarded by an illusion of Mohg. Press on past this, and the way is blocked by a seal placed by Morgott himself. So long as he is alive, the seal remains. What's beyond it is a truly terrible sight, hundreds of anguished nomads crammed into catacombs, driven to utter despair in this inhumane prison beneath the earth. And at the farthest depths of this hell lay the altar of the Three Fingers, vassal of the Frenzied Flame and god of chaos, a threat so dire to existence that Melina all but begs us to reconsider multiple times before we even approach it. It's no walk in the park, that's for sure. But it's also the only other way into the Deeproot Depths prior to Radahn's death, and so it is the one Devin most likely took to reach the Prince of Death. This also means Devin must have had Morgott's express permission to do so. His seal prevents anyone from reaching the illusory wall which allows one passage into the Depths from the Frenzied Flame Proscription. While I won't claim Morgott is the one to have requested Devin to do this, the fact still remains that Morgott must at least be aware it is happening, otherwise, there's no reasonable explanation for Devin getting to Godwyn in the first place. This further strengthens the claim that Devin was not merely wandering or seeking something of his own accord - he was explicitly sent. And I think this assignment broke him.

Let's take a moment to backtrack to the outskirts of Leyndell, and the Minor Erdtree church. In it, we find 4 items, three of which are explicitly linked to Devin. There's a Golden Centipede, associated with hunters of the dead. There's a Golden Order seal, used by Devin. And there's a gesture, Outer Order, which directly mirrors the gesture received from Devin, Inner Order. We get the Outer Order gesture after listening to spoken echos of Marika, which are as follows:

I declare mine intent, to search the depths of the Golden Order. Through understanding of the proper way, our faith, our grace, is increased. Those blissful early days of blind belief are long past. My comrades; why must ye falter?

How is this relevant to Devin? For one, the twins are associated with the ranks of the Hunters, who Goldmasks laments have strayed from proper scholarly fundamentalism to blindly seeking out an absolute evil to oppose. This illustrates how they have strayed even from Marika's own vision of the Order with her call to examine the tenets of the Order and one's own faith in it. The word choice also, whether intentional or not, mirrors Devin's own literal searching of the depths of the Golden Order. To reach Godwyn, he descended beneath the Order's capital, going from this noble, golden city bathed in the warm rays of the Erdtree, down through the sewers where cursed children grew up and now eke out a miserable existence, through an internment camp full of suffering exiles, to finally confronting the greatest failure of Marika's Order and the source of the monstrosities which Devin and his brother are assigned to destroy. Marika says, "Those blissful early days of blind belief are long past," and this becomes true for Devin. He has confronted not one, not two, but three layers of deceit and depravity perpetrated by the Order he has agreed to serve. There is no lie to hide behind, no place for faith in the Order to do what is right, no way to any longer deny the imperfections and cruelty of the Golden Order. And that same Golden Order told you that you were not an abomination. That you were worthy of life, even if the entire rest of the world believes otherwise. The bliss of that acceptance is now stained with the horrific reality. Devin has reached the depths of the Order, and he has found only misery and abuse, decay and brutality. And at its very center, there lay the once golden and perfect son of that Order, the poster child of all its promises of glory, strength, and goodness, now twisted into the very thing the Order has instructed him is responsible for its ills. I do not think Devin merely shrugged his shoulders and got over it. In fact, his vicious diatribe against Godwyn makes it pretty clear how deeply this all impacted him. While he has plenty good reason to despise Fia for murdering his brother, Godwyn would have had no involvement in that, and Devin would know. Devin would have seen the lack of response and the lack of awareness in Godwyn as he removed the cursemark from his corpse. So why blame him for anything to do with Darian's death when it's Fia's plot that necessitated it? He's not condemning Godwyn for Darian's death. He's condemning him for sullying the purity of the Golden Order. In his mind, which has been broken by this one-two punch of witnessing the brutality of the Order followed up by Fia's murder of his brother, he's scrambling to hold on to meaning in a world where he is rapidly forced to face his meaninglessness.

So he rages against Godwyn, rages against Fia and her plans to enshrine the undead spawn of this blight on his faith. If he externalizes that rage, he can, for a time, escape his own miseries, and even justify continuing to believe in the virtuousness of the society which gave him and his brother place and meaning, and deemed them worthy of belonging.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

honestly i think the duskborn rune is really burying the lead narratively. like, "death restored" just seems so... patently false as a descriptor? fia & co are kind of trying to do the Opposite of that.

like, ok, those who live in death came about because of ranni's two-time fracturing of the rune of death—once to unleash a tiny piece of it, and a second time to split the death between her and godwyn. explicitly, because of that second fracture, godwyn exists trapped in an in-between state, simultaneously dead and unable to die. he is dead but his corpse is also a living thing, growing blindly without consciousness. TWLID are similarly afflicted. their bodies are reborn over and over without release, and do not seem to... uh, retain a consciousness.

presumably, putting the rune of death back into the elden ring would stop the cycle of rebirth for everyone, not just them. if death were permanently unleashed onto the lands between, i think even godwyn would probably find release. b/c it's not just that ranni split their deaths—she also did it using a tiny stolen fragment of the rune, with maliketh still holding onto most of it. and you need The Whole Thing to end the game. so these... tiny traces are not really doing it.

crucially, fia could, but does not, ask you to restore that rune. instead, she gives you a new one. the one that she created by merging ranni's half-wheel with godwyn's. that will embed "life within death" into the order. if fia isn't trying to spread undeath to everyone in the lands between, wtf is she trying to do?? why does the rune seem to want to imply that she's restoring the natural order, when she herself seems to be so strongly against that possibility??

[bloodlegacies]

Wait! So Serah was the half-sister of Cecilia and Caio? Did that happen before the Great Duchess married Cecilia's dad?

We know that Cecilia's mom doesn't like/trusts even kid!MC, are there other reasons, beside the old story of Northon's betrayal?

Spoilers spoilers

Yes, it happened before, so much so that they had to hide that case, and yes, it was discovered by the queen, Hayden's mother, but not by all the rest of the court. And yes, Serah technically speaking is Caio and Cecilia's half-sister.

Well, neither the king (Martell) nor Erianne (Grand Duchess) are very fond of the Darians, but concerning Erianne, this is also due to the fact that she was jealous of Alexandra. Even though Martell ended up with her later, he still had a crush on Alexandra.

[katyspersonal]

I had a weird dream tonight about D fdhfdhsd

Well, as usual, my dreams are a mess of many things, but this one stood out the most. I kind of got to know him a little better and before long, I learned from him how to apply holy light to my sword to kill Those who Live in Death! He basically became my mentor figure somewhat

There was also this whole spiel about how the undeads are themselves not quite happy living like this; they lacked souls as much as the cause of their existence, but without his drive to exist. Basically, disturbed from their rightful rebirth or eternal rest, aimless. However, one undead stood out, being quite sentient and having nefarious purpose, and we were fighting him with a whole team of others! A team that'd all die if it was not for the skills D taught me earlier! And I after that searched D again to apologise to him. I clearly recall saying something like "Sorry, we were all thinking of you as just another fanatical psycho (?) revelling in "righteous" murder, and laughed at you behind your back, but I can see Those Who Live in Death are unhappy too and what you do is akin to mercy-killing". And he was actually confused because not even he quite realised until I spelled it out, but also was a bit bitter that I was speaking so lowly of him despite learning from him. He has forgiven me though but the feeling of shame was intense in the dream and I still remember it.

There was also more 'wholesome' time, closer to waking up, where we went to his "home" to have dinner and I've met his brother! The thing is, I was never able to tell them apart fdshhd I can only assume the one training me was Darian all things considered, but... you have no idea how identical they were. xD Absolutely the same. They were even pranking me using my inability to say who was who ;-; The 'one person, two bodies' effect was absurd and I basically reached the level of tossing a pillow at them in that 'stop already you guys!!!' as they were giggling at my confusion fhsdds

[commissionsdarian]

are you ok 🥺 y so quiet

Meeting

[troglodytepixieeater]

Tarnished Blood: Part 1

Disclaimer: want everyone to know that the future is not the canon of the series! This is my own personal headcanon of what I imagine my MC to have in the Blood Legacies (creator: @bloodlegacies). While I have read probably every piece of lore for the blog, there might be some things that are not canon in my story. If there are, then you can message me and correct me for future fanfics; however, it might not change said fanfic where I got the lore, magical properties, or anything else wrong.

Paring: Hayden x OC!Bianca

Warning: none?

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The sound of tapping brought Bianca out of her thoughts; however, she did not look at the source and instead stared at the key points that she would have to cover in the next meeting with the court about the trade routes written on a piece of parchment.

Maybe I should ask my father about this?

Bianca sighed. She missed her father dearly, and although she knew he would drop what he was doing to help her, she felt guilty bothering him with simple trade routes just for an excuse to check up on him.

He was still in Darian; however, it was really Bianca who kept her house in power and her people happy as she had come of age to rule. However, that did not mean her father just sat on his ass. No. If anything, he helped take most of the stress off her shoulders, making sure everything went smoothly. He wasn't just her commander anymore; he was her commander if the crown on her head was any indication.

It was odd having her father follow her orders and not the other way around; however, Bianca knew deep down that she would never be the one in charge when it came to the relationship with her father. She respected him too much. Maybe she should try not to rely on him too much and let him enjoy his time in his older years with that new lover of his.

What would I do without him?

That thought came with an aching feeling of grief at the thought of losing another parent; however, she scowled at herself for having such a morbid thought. Bianca knew that one day it would come when her father wouldn't be around, but she would get through it; it would be full circle as it would now be her turn to teach her own children to slowly let her go as they grew into adulthood.

Speaking of children, the tapping became so excessive that Bianca finally looked up from her notes to see her middle child tapping away at the table with her right hand, her index finger having just a hint of ice on her tip as she mulled over her notes. In her left hand sat a quill as her daughter wrote something down and then frowned before roughly scratching through the paper again.

Bianca couldn't help but have a small hidden smile as she stared at the twelve-year-old. At only twelve, her daughter, the second heir and princess of Petrus, was probably one of the smartest scholars that their kingdom has ever seen.

The way that she consumed knowledge was amazing; unlike her siblings, who saw their studies as chores or a responsibility, it seemed that her middle child enjoyed her studies. Now only if Bianca could get her daughter to pick up a sword like her oldest than would she be unstoppable.

Bianca just stared at her daughter, watching as her nose wrinkled when she got frustrated, and the tapping got louder and louder. Unable to sit still, just like her father, getting him to sit through a whole meeting, people would think you were sending him off to war at how he moped and pouted, but with a few threatening comforting words, he seemed to make it through the "torture."

Although Hayden wasn't nearly as focused as their middle child, when mentioned to him once when they were alone, Bianca remembered him saying that her nose wrinkle reminded him of his sister when she would get annoyed at him.

Bianca smiled at the thought, and she remembered thinking than that the name of her daughter was even more fitting.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Bianca finally pressed her lips together before speaking.

"Serah."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Serah did not look up from her paper, and the tapping only seemed to increase, which put Bianca on edge.

"Serah." Bianca said again, a little more bite in her tone, and she noticed that her daughter's whole finger was covered in frost.

 Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Serah Gloryann Elkar!"

The princess looked at her mother, letting Bianca get a more full view of her daughter. Serah's light blonde curls were even more messy than usual, and Hayden's eyes stared back at her in a wide-eyed state.

"What is wrong?" Bianca spoke with a calmer voice, her expression remaining cold as usual.

Serah bit her lip as she looked down at the paper again and looked back at her mother, nervousness clear on her face as she shrank back.

"N-nothing." Serah spoke quietly, in her usual timid tone.

Bianca wished now more than ever that her daughter had not gotten her quiet nature from her; however, maybe that trait would stop the rumors that Serah was not her daugher. If she heard those whispers herself she would gladly show the stretch marks along her stomach. No one questioned if Serah was Hayden's child. Everyone could see she had Elkar blood through her veins just by looking at her eyes.

"I do not like being lied to by Serah." Bianca said this with a raised eyebrow and looked at the parchment in front of her daughter. "Does it have something to do with whatever you are writing?"

Serah's cheeks turned pink. "What? No!"

Bianca's eyes narrowed, which made the girl in front of her squirm in her seat. She needed to teach her daughter to have a better poker face if she wanted to survive in court.

I will make sure to give her a lesson some time next week.

The Queen made a mental note in her head as she studied her daughter's flushed expression and dilated pupils, and it all clicked into place. There was only one person who had any kind of effect on her daughter in such a way.

"You are writing to Zemislav." It was not a question but a statement as Bianca leaned back to get an even more perfect view of Serah's wide-eyed expression once again.

"He was just asking about something." Serah fiddled with the corner of her paper.

The...infatuation was clear on Serah's face, and Bianca held herself back from killing the young preteen that seemed to wiggle his way into her daughter's heart.

The queen side of her knew it would be a great match. Zemislav...while he was nothing like his mother, Sofia, who only wanted a sweet release of sleep, it seemed that Zemislav, from what Bianca had seen, never slept and was always a ball of energy ready to go off at any moment. Poor Sofia. But still, it was a good match for both families.

The mother side of Bianca wanted to strangle the young man; her daughter was only twelve, and now Bianca had to worry about crushes. She didn't even think that her eldest had become smitten with anybody as of late; however, that wasn't surprising since her eldest would rather be left alone with a training dummy than any kind of person if it didn't have to do with achieving progress in their kingdom.

Bianca shook her head and tried not to let a scoff slip. This Zemislav was fourteen and already in the academy; what in the gods names was he doing writing to her daughter when he should be focusing on his studies? Maybe she should write to Sofia.

Worry gripped Bianca like a viper, and she had to force herself to remain stoic. Serah could make the most successful battle plans and strategies; however, it was no secret that her middle child was naive about the setting of the court and the wicked ways that would try to use a young princess for their own personal gain, especially a marriage alliance.

Serah got Bianca's own quiet nature. Yes. But instead of the cold expression that Bianca was blessed with that sent people on their way or even Hayden's mischievous smirk that kept people on their toes, it seemed her daughter was blessed with an open, friendly smile, which made Bianca often question which side of the family she got it from.

Not Serah's grandfather...that was for sure.

Bianca let go of the chair arms that she didn't even realize she had gripped, which were now covered in a thick frost. Hopefully her daughter didn't see, and from her daughter's open expression, she did not.

"What did your friend want?" Bianca said the word "friend" with distaste that Serah didn't seem to catch.

"He was asking if you were going to be announcing that Martella was going to the academy soon......everyone is curious." Serah whispered, her voice cracking a little; however, her eyes were trained on Bianca, studying her.

Smart girl.

Bianca kept the fear off her face, and her hands shook under the table. "Tell Zemislav that there will be an announcement soon."

Serah bit her lip. "Mother, rumors are spreading of Martella's elemen-."

"That. Is. Enough." Serah shivered at her mother's cold tone.

Bianca continued. "I don't want to hear another word about this." Grayish blue eyes met light teal, and a look of understanding crossed over the table.

Serah nodded, looking back down at her quill before uttering a quiet. "Yes, mother."

The sound of the doors slamming open made the two royals turn in their seats.

Masterpost | NEXT

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Note: Blood Legacies is such an amazing story, and I can't wait for another update. While we have only touched the surface of what the author has planned for the series, I just appreciate the lore and the world that the author has created.

[erika-xero]

Having a small break after I finished working on a huge commissioned piece, so I’ve been doodling around with my imaginary friends for a few nights or so. You can read some brief info about Savi, Darian, Hildegarde, Emergelde von Breitenbach, Wilhelm and Misha here, the other guys are:

- Seheria von Tessen, the sorceress who lived a few centuries ago and was a councelor to the king whose name was erased from the history. The king was famous with his enormous violence towards the court members and his vassals and his experiments with magic which were far beyond any ethics. He was also responsible for creating a huge anomaly which was later named The Great Gate by the historians (and which was a huge magical disaster). She was supposedly killed the very same night the rebellion started and the King was slaughtered.

- The mysterious cannibal lady who’ve lost anything human within her;

- The Ears, the Eyes, the Voice of the Emperor. The Oclarian Emperor is paranoid so he rarely shows up on council meetings, usually sending three mysterious women instead of him. No one knows their names and no one saw their faces.

- The Jester. Are they truly a jester? or a bard?are they a hallucination? are they a mysterious entity from outer worlds? Who knows. I am also not sure whether or not to keep their original red and black color scheme, because it was kinda fun? But it would also be fun to make their outfit yellow. The Yellow Jester does not play, But gently pulls the strings, And smiles as the puppets dance, In the court of the Crimson King;

- The Deadman. Whoever he is, Misha sees him in his nightmares frequently. Sometimes the Deadman sits there in silence looking him in the eyes. Sometimes he speaks the ancient tongues. Sometimes he laughs. Sometimes he is surrounded by people with no faces. Who or what is he?

[wraith-caller]

@li-binauje-artisse left this as part of their response to me dissecting Darian's dialog about Rogier, and it encapsulates everything that frustrates me about the way this pair are often interpreted. Not just as a couple/friends, but as individuals. It's indicative of how large chunks of the fandom, in spite of apparently desperately clamoring for complex characters and nuanced storytelling, tend to often ignore those complexities when they discuss anything.

Let's start with Rogier. "Innocent martyr fighting for social justice". It hits the nail right on the head. I see him characterized as any of the following: hating the Golden Order, a rebel, defiant, a revolutionary, 'the good guy', a progressive. But does his story actually bear that out?

No, it doesn't. Here he is, talking about the Golden Order:

The battle art you've learned is of the glintstone family. They were conceived at the great Academy of Raya Lucaria, to the north of this castle. In the past, they obeyed laws which contravened the Golden Order, or so I'm told. Fascinating, isn't it? That the Golden Order was pliable enough to absorb practices that contradicted itself in the past. With the Order broken, twisted, and in need of repair, such adaptability is more important now than ever.

Nowhere in Rogier's dialog does he speak ill of the Golden Order itself. Nowhere does he say he's intent on tearing it down, that it needs to be stopped, that it needs to be erased. He admits it is FLAWED and that it needs REPAIRED. He's not a champion of human rights looking to topple a cruel and violent regime. He admires the Golden Order's pliability, knows it has issues, and seeks to fix it, NOT destroy it. He's an academic with a single-minded obsession, and that obsession is repairing this error. Even his interest in the undead seems less about the undead themselves being oppressed and more about the fact they are a consequence of a broken system(see his lines about the undead committing no offences, that they have simply touched on a flaw and now exist, as opposed to Fia's more blatantly sympathetic perspective that the undead are 'unfairly persecuted' by 'dogmatic brutes'). From his perspective, if we were to simply fix that bug, then everything would be fine again! Nevermind that the Order is founded on violence and genocides, that it is built on a brutal caste system which denies those who don't fit within it their basic rights. His perspective on it has narrowed down to this one issue - which, don't get me wrong, it definitely is an issue needing fixed. But it's like putting a band aid on a paper cut while ignoring all the stab wounds. There are a lot of terrible things at work here, and it's going to take more than one thing to fix any of it.

I'm not saying Rogier is a fervent acolyte, or that it's totally unreasonable to think he may care about some of these other issues, but we don't see any of that, so it gets into headcanon territory to speculate about what he thinks of the GOs other problems. What's LESS up to headcanon is the fact that he is not a defiant person. He's not a rebel. His behavior often displays the OPPOSITE, that he is quite the people pleaser, that he is someone who is not keen on 'rocking the boat' and drawing potentially negative attention to himself. His repeated apologizing to us for things like being paralyzed or getting injured, his willingness to lie to others to avoid upsetting them, his pleasant demeanor in spite of his inner turmoil, and his about face in his cut dreambrew dialog where he switches from resentful to gracious at the drop of a hat are all evidence of this. He is not some free-spirited revolutionary who will proudly defy an oppressive system. Even with the issue of TWLID, he's cautious about sharing his perspective on it, knowing it is an uncommon one that would raise someone's ire. He says we "may find this peculiar" when he tells us he wants to save the dead, not just because of one bad conversation with Darian, but because this is likely an unusual perspective period, among the majority of people, not just the hunters. Otherwise, why would he think WE find it peculiar when we have nothing to do with D, and have said nothing to indicate we hold a similar perspective?

What frustrates me about people taking these traits away from him and making him into some self-assured and confident trailblazer is that it erases a story about someone finally being able to find their spine after a potential lifetime of setting himself aside to please others. He expresses nothing of himself, none of his miseries and griefs, except this one belief that has become so important to him that he's willing to lose someone he once cared about over it. Rogier is not someone who was always bravely defiant. He is someone learning, at the last minute, how to stand up for himself and have the courage to put his foot down. Making him out to be some rebel hero of the underdogs robs him of that, and kind of minimizes a lot of his emotional issues. It also often overlooks his own participation in this oppressive system - not just that he used to likely hunt the dead alongside Darian, but that he encourages us to become Elden Lord and perpetuate the existence of the Golden Order. Maybe we fix this one problem he's invested in solving, but what about all the others that will continue to exist? It's the classic tendency to see morally grey characters in a black and white light because you like them. Rogier is a fan favorite, so he must agree with all of the 'good' perspectives on things, isnt it obvious? Well, no, it isn't, and it'd be cool if people kept insisting otherwise outside the realm of their own headcanon or fanfiction.

Okay, so how about Darian? "The Hater." "Fascist zealot," as @irithylldancer (and let's be real, anyone who has looked at any discussion about Darian at all) has seen him called before. After all, how could anyone hate zombies cursed to live without a soul who enact violence on people without apparent cause? A lot of folks point out that any enemy is like that, and will just attack on sight, but that's just plain not true. Variants of wandering nobles will actually flee from you and beg you to spare them, so it's not like the devs couldn't have thrown a few TWLID with these behaviors in if we were really supposed to think it's just a matter of us terrorizing them.

But that's besides the point anyway. This is about lost nuance in characters. The nuance with Darian is often lost at this: people see the game use the word 'Fundamentalist' and think instantly of the real world group that is referred to with the same term. That is, Christian conservatives who are often quite regressive, with racist/bigoted biases. Sorry folks, but that's not what a Golden Order Fundamentalist is. So what are they?

Law of Regression: The fundamentalists describe the Golden Order through the powers of regression and causality. Regression is the pull of meaning; that all things yearn eternally to converge.

Law of Causality: The fundamentalists describe the Golden Order through the powers of regression and causality. Causality is the pull between meanings; it is the connections that form the relationships of all things.

Golden Order Principia: Prayerbook of the Golden Order fundamentalists. A dense and complex academic treatise that contains the Order's fundamental principles.

Golden Order seal: Fundamentalism is scholarship in all but name.

Is that clear enough? GO Fundamentalists are not "the racist part". They are not "the bigoted part". They are the SCHOLARS. They are devoted to understanding the fundamentals of the Golden Order. This is NOT the same as real world Christian Fundamentalism. The hunters aren't trying to destroy a culture that's foreign to them, or eliminate a racial group, or put down the disabled(though obviously the GO is still horrible and does things like that with their treatment of omen and misbegotten), or 'hunting the dead for sport' like it's just a fun game for them. They're fighting a literal plague, a dangerous curse that undoes death and leaves soulless corpses shambling across the lands, inflicting violence on others. It's not bigotry to think deathroot is a problem. It's not fascism to want to stop an illness from spreading. It's not cruel to want to prevent corpses - who inherently can't consent to anything - from being plucked out of the ground like daisies and forced to shamble around soullessly and suffer existence whether they want to or not. Even Goldmask, in his criticism of the hunters, is not upset with their treatment of TWLID. He's disappointed in their desire to have an evil to defeat, which he doubts is even a possibility. Order Healing says:

The noble Goldmask lamented what had become of the hunters. How easy it is for learning and learnedness to be reduced to the ravings of fanatics; all the good and the great wanted, in their foolishness, was an absolute evil to contend with. Does such a notion exist in the fundamentals of Order?

Goldmask isn't mourning the undead, and he isn't condemning the hunters for their treatment of them. He is saying what the game itself repeatedly says to us through these nuanced stories told with every single character: there is no absolute evil to be found. You can quash this problem of deathroot and its consequences, and there are still a thousand more flaws in this Order because the very nature of rule by man, even when elevated to godhood, is itself flawed, because humans are imperfect creatures. Rogier tells us the undead aren't evil, they simply exist whether they want to or not. The problem is the hunters like Darian are looking for an outside evil to defeat when there isn't one, the call is coming from inside the house, only Darian is too devoted to the Order to admit it. The undead may be violent, they may kill, they may be cursed, but this doesn't make them inherently evil. They only exist through a loophole in the Order, and the hunters deny that such a loophole could exist because the Order must be perfect.

Even with his flawed beliefs, Darian is far from hateful or a fascist. He laments the death of a criminal when we meet him. He tries to deter us from harm. He offers us help by showing us the waygate to Caelid, and asks - not demands - that we take his place in serving Gurranq. He never asks us if we're allied with the Golden Order, never asks us to prove we're ideologically pure or even aligned with him. He eagerly calls us a comrade, and in spite of his disagreement with Rogier, continues helping him with his research. What kind of 'hateful fascist' behavior is that? The only thing he despises are TWLID, and yes, his hatred of them is intense, and it is probably irrational to some degree - it's very unlikely they're as aware and conscious as a normal, non-undead human being would be, and we know they didn't spring up out of the ground because they felt like defying Marika's will. But his hatred is also not baseless. It's not him hearing from the Order that these are his enemies and he must hate them because they are Different. His hatred is a result of witnessing their violence firsthand. The game didn't go out of its way to introduce him mourning a victim of the undead for no reason.

And beyond this, there's a far more personal reason he must preserve the Order, why he must fervently believe they are right about who is accursed and who isn't. He and Devin were completely shunned from every society except the Golden Order. Of course he's attached, of course he's invested. If his options are "Golden Order or nothing", he's going to take the Golden Order, and it's really difficult to blame someone for making a choice like that. If you are rejected from birth by every society except one, you're going to be desperate enough for that acceptance that you'll do anything to keep your place in it. So when met with Rogier's revelation that the Golden Order is wrong about who is cursed and who isn't, doesn't it make perfect sense that Darian doesn't handle it so well?

No this isn't the first time I've ranted about this and it probably won't be the last. I just love these characters too much and hate seeing their rich potential for interesting storytelling reduced to a black-and-white narrative for easy consumption. No aspect of this game includes a simple, straightforward progressive vs regressive, hero vs villain, good guy vs bad guy story, even down to characters as minor as Rogier and Darian.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

“…cannot give you your proper rites,” comes a distant voice from down the path before them, and Arthur slows on instinct, drawing his glintstone staff back to his side, waiting for his companion’s description. 

“There’s a man,” he begins, which he had assumed. “A knight, I think. Clad in gold armor and a red cloak that seem to have been taken care of much better than those of the other knights we’ve run into.” (“But at least you did not join those…”) “He’s holding something to his chest with one hand, and the other is on the hilt of a sword that’s nearly as tall as he is. Something is… strange about it, like it’s not one solid piece of metal.” (“…who live in death…”)“He hasn’t noticed us yet. He’s looking down at something…” (“…your soul will return to the Erdtree, in time.”) “…Oh. It’s a body. Someone who’s been cut down by some kind of slashing weapon. Not his sword, the cuts are too shallow. Something smaller, nimbler.” 

Arthur recognizes the words, and the tone, he slips into next. It’s a common prayer, more of a formality than anything. A reflex for the faithful like saying bless you when someone sneezes. “Honeyed rays of gold, deliver this spirit.” 

He’s been very slowly making his way closer, and now he judges it close enough to call out and greet him, now that he seems to be done speaking. “Trouble on the road?” 

The acoustics of his voice shift as he, presumably, looks up at him. “Hail, traveler. If you’re aiming to cross to Caelid, then heed my warning, and find another route. The village here has been touched by death. And, worse yet, it is home to a mariner. If you value your life, then go no further.” 

“We’ve been aiming for the Third Church, actually.” Maybe he can get directions. “I think I may have gotten a bit turned around, though. Don’t suppose you know if I’m going the right way?” 

There’s a thoughtful pause, during which time his companion speaks up again. 

“Arthur, his armor…” there’s a note of fascination to his voice. “I was wrong earlier, it’s not just gold. It’s both gold and silver intertwined, styled as though two completely different sets have been melded together. The thing he’s holding to his chest—I think it’s a head, sculpted into the breastplate, that he’s cradling. There are a set of arms, too, one silver and one gold, to match his gauntlets—like twin figures are embracing. It’s almost more of a work of art than a suit of armor. His sword is the same, that’s why it looked so strange. As if two greatswords have been braided together.“ 

Another moment passes before the knight speaks. “Well, the Third Church is roughly that way,” (“He’s pointing—south, I think”) “but it’s a bit of a climb, and I don’t know that there’s an easy way down from where we are now. There used to be another church through this village, on the Caelid border—the Church of the Maiden, if memory serves—but when the rot took it, the Redmanes tried to burn it out, and, well. It’s been little more than a shelter for vagabonds and Tarnished-hunters ever since.” 

“That’s a shame,” he says, because it seems like the correct response. 

“Aye, it seems like more and more are going the same way, these days. Like what happened to Callu. I don’t suppose you’re coming up from there?” Not entirely sure what he means, he just shakes his head. “Ah. Well, anyway. The Third Church has good people, though. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for there.” 

“I… certainly hope so. Though not anytime soon, I suppose,” he huffs a sigh, resigned, “since it sounds like you just told me I’ll have to turn around.” 

“Unless you want to take your chances with the cliffs. Though… the slope does get much easier on the other side of the village, I think.” 

“The village you just warned me not to go near.” 

“Well, if you’re headed for the church, circling all the way back to the other road is going to be quite a walk. Seems a shame to make you go all that way.” He audibly hesitates for a moment, inhales. “If you go around the tree line to the north, you should be able to avoid drawing too much notice. I can accompany you, just in case one or two of the dead have wandered too far.” 

“Oh, I don’t want to impose–” 

“You’re not, really. I need to observe things inside a bit more before I make my move, anyway. We may as well walk together.” 

He’s instinctively suspicious, but the knight seems… genuinely friendly. And given that his companion hasn’t noted any southward turnoffs from the road anytime recently, he’s likely not kidding about it being quite a walk to take the other route. “Well. If you’re sure, I suppose I’m in no spot to refuse you.” 

His companion speaks up in time with the sound of footsteps in grass. “He’s walking away. He’s lifted his sword up and hefted it onto his shoulder, where it’s ready to swing down at the first sign of a threat. He handles it easily, as if it doesn’t weigh ten pounds. I don’t know about this, Arthur. I don’t think we can trust him.” 

“What? Why not?” 

“I don’t know, but–“ 

A distant voice interrupts. “Changed your mind?” 

“No! Sorry, just—uh, yes, coming.” As he starts to walk in the direction of the footsteps, he continues, more quietly, “Look, it’s not as if we’re letting him lead us to some remote location, or anything. It’ll be short, and then we’ll be parting ways again. Okay?” 

“I still think we should turn around.” 

“Well, you’re not the one who has to walk all that way. I would rather take my chances here than backtrack.” 

He sighs in response, but falls silent as they catch up, recognizing that Arthur can’t chance much conversation this close to another person. 

The quiet is allowed to rest, for a moment, as they walk. If the knight notices the way he allows his glintstone staff to trail just ahead of him, testing the ground, he doesn’t find it odd enough to comment on. Arthur can feel the cool of the trees around them, but the sounds of the forest are few and far between. To the left is the familiar rush of the ocean, identifiable even echoing from a distance. There’s a much nearer and gentler lap of water to his right, in the direction that the road would have taken them, had they followed it. Accompanying it is… a low noise, a single wavering note, as of, perhaps, some sort of horn. 

“This isn’t much of a forest,” his companion begins to narrate. “The cliff edges aren’t far left, and in the other direction, the village is still in view. It’s certainly seen better days. It’s lying in a slight depression in the earth, in a few inches of muddy water, as if rain has pooled around it. The buildings are stone, and all of them seem to be slowly collapsing and sinking into the mire. I can see some movement within. Things that look human, but… aren’t.” He wants to ask what he means by that, or how he can tell, but he’s also aware of the potential eavesdropper walking just ahead of him. “Sometimes, when we pass a break in the trees and buildings just right, I can see… something glowing, at the village center. But never for long enough to make out what it is. It casts an eerie violet light on everything around it.” 

He hums, enough of a noise to tell his companion that he’s absorbed the information. 

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet,” the knight breaks the silence. “I’m known as D. I hunt Those Who Live in Death, and weed their deathroot. There’s an ill omen hanging over this village, and I’ve come to cleanse it.” 

“Hence why you’re… observing it, I take it. I’m, ah, Arthur. Arthur Lester. Not much of anything besides a traveler, at the moment.” He still doesn’t see much point in lying about his name. The likelihood of anyone here knowing him is very low. “How long has it been…” gestures towards the general direction of the village, hoping he makes it look natural. “Like this?” 

“Well, depends what you mean by like this, I suppose. The village has laid abandoned for some time, but only recently did that mariner show up to claim its territory.” 

“That’s the second time he’s said that. Mariner. I don’t think he’s talking about a normal sailor,” his companion muses. 

And Arthur’s also curious at the way he says it, as if it’s some monstrosity that needs no introduction, so he himself speaks up. “The… mariner.” 

“Ancient grave keepers, touched by deathroot. Once upon a time, they would have been the guides and gatekeepers for the dead. Now, they can only spread their sickness and keep others from their rightful return to the roots.” A note of scorn—disgust, maybe—enters his voice. 

“Rightful return,” he repeats, a little derisive, before he can stop himself. “Seems a bit hypocritical, considering the state of us Tarnished.” 

D snorts. “That’s hardly the same. You and I still have our souls—proof of that, we’re standing here talking to each other. Those who live in death are soulless beings, with no minds left to them. Cursed to wander, dragging the living down to share in their fate. Like what nearly happened to the poor bastard back there.” (“He’s gesturing back towards where we came. At the dead body, probably.”) “Mark me. They’re naught but vermin to be exterminated. Their mere existence sullies the sanctity of the Golden Order.” 

“I thought the aim of the Order’s laws was to explain the workings of the world,” he points out dryly. “Seems a bit of a cop-out to just—deem something outside their principles.” 

“Arthur, what are you doing,” his companion hisses behind his eyes, “stop provoking him. He clearly cares about this, and he’s got a huge fucking sword.” Which is a fair point. He really should shut up. 

But instead of getting angry, the knight just chuckles. “You don’t hold your tongue, do you? You sound just like an old friend of mine. Bet you two would get along quite well. Well, you may be right. Truth be told, I’m no scholar. All I know is, when something of yours goes rotten, you’ve got a responsibility to cut it out. And the spread of deathroot is as rotten as they come.” 

“…I’m sorry,” now he’s feeling a little regret for snapping. “I don’t mean to… deny your beliefs, or anything, I simply… spoke without thinking. And I’m hardly in a place to talk; this isn’t even a subject I’m familiar with.” 

“For your own sake, I hope it stays that way. Those who live in death should be left well alone. Unless you mean to hunt them, and that… is not a path to be trod lightly.” His tongue clicks softly. “Though I sense you’re not the type who can simply let things go, eh? My friend was the same way. Had it in his head that there was some deeper plot at work, was determined to get to the bottom of it.” The footsteps in grass slow to a halt, and Arthur slows with them. “You said you were a traveler? If you ever encounter a sorcerer by the name of Rogier, you let him know that D tells him to take care of himself.” 

He recognizes the emotion in D’s voice. Genuine concern under a layer of forced casual calm. The voice of someone worried for his friend, but with very little space to direct that worry. It’s so very familiar, pulls at something in the back of his mind, and he finds his heart aches. So, equally genuine, he says, “I’ll be sure to pass it on, if I get the chance.” 

His companion speaks up. “We’ve broken the tree line, and I think I can see the gentler way down he was referring to. We might be in the clear.” 

Nodding to himself, he adds, “Thank you for taking me this far, really. Best of luck with your, ah… hunt.” 

“Much appreciated. Best of luck with wherever your travels take you, after the church.” 

He’s expecting that to be their parting words, and starts off down the grassy slope himself—but D calls something back to him, over his shoulder, that makes him stop. 

“I’m sorry about your eyes, by the way.” 

“My—eyes?” He turns around. 

“I hope the people at the church can give you some relief. Seems an awful way to go, is all.” 

With that, before Arthur can think of any way to stop him, his footsteps turn away back towards the village, leaving him behind to wonder at his meaning. 

The new mind welcomes them in easily. His memories catch like paper, burning down to golden embers in a matter of moments. Smoke chokes out his thoughts, and it seems for a moment as though he, like all the other despairing souls they have brought to roost over the centuries, would simply become one with the flame. No more to divide or distinguish. May chaos take the—

—hmm? 

There is a memory here that does not come alight at the merest touch. Its paper-thin edges are damp, somehow, and the heat of the flames cannot seem to dry them. Rather, when they reach out, their own edges sizzle and pop, and they are forced to recoil. 

No matter. Some things are difficult to relinquish, they understand; still, they will aid this ailing soul. They gather themselves, reach forward again—and are… stopped. As though snagged by the back of the collective collar. 

The mind is resisting. 

Not this one, comes a low whisper from the darkness beyond the embers of memory. The rest of them, you can have. Burn them all away, do what you will. But I cannot give this one up. 

The embers of frenzy do not understand. Cannot understand. This memory is etched deep, yes, but it is painful. The flame offers simple and beautiful release. Why would he resist? Why will he not let them take this pain away? 

That would be taking the easy way out. 

Of course. Is that not what he wants? To let go? For things to be easy? They know the outlines of this mind, the defeat that consumes it. It is a mind that welcomed the flames to make their home inside. He called to them. On the edge of life and death he sang to them, and they came for him. Now he would turn them away? 

No. No. He called to them; he is theirs now. They will not abide hesitation. They move to gather their strength again. 

The hands that had caught them intensify. Gather them up and pull them back, heedless of the flames. 

I said, he hisses, no. 

They struggle, now, confused and afraid and at war with their own internality. They cannot be conflicted. They are as one. And yet, and yet—

Yes, it hurts! Of course it damn well hurts! If it didn’t, I wouldn’t care what you did with it! Now he is incensed, voice growing hot to meet their measure. You’ve already gone and burned the rest, haven’t you! 

But not this. His voice softens. They know this tone, soaked in sorrow and guilt. Usually it catches quick as oil. But now, once again, their flame is stifled, as if tossing water on the pyre. I’m the only one left who remembers this. I might be the only one left who remembers her at all, at this point. If I let go… no. No. I will carry this with me as long as I live, and I will not let you take it. 

Now. 

Get the fuck out of my head. 

He pushes them down. Things solidify around them. Sights and sounds that they cannot make sense of in the scarce few moments before—his hands break the surface of the water and they are being smothered. 

They are in a basin and the water is all around them and they cannot evaporate it quicker than it eats away at them. They kick and writhe and snap and crackle and still they drown. 

Under the hissing sounds of their dying flames, they think, for a moment, they hear the faint notes of a piano. And then they hear nothing at all. 

—

With the scraping of metal against rock, the body stirs. 

“Ah,” purrs a low voice, “hello, friend. I was starting to get concerned when you—“ 

“What the fuck,” the other man gasps, as if he hadn’t even spoken. He lurches to a sitting position and his hands fly up to his face. The source of the metal scraping becomes immediately clear. “What—the fuck, why is it so fucking hot in here–“  

“Slow down a moment, you—“ 

“Fucking get it off!” His hands scrabble at the edges of the iron mask encasing his head. It was clearly not made to be easily removed. “Too—fucking hot. Fuck. Off.” 

“Stop that!” the other voice snaps, the remainder of the soothing hum draining out of it entirely. “You’re going to break your neck if you keep that up—“ 

“Then stop talking and fucking help me!” He’s gasping for breath, and starting to sway in a concerning manner. "I can't– I–"

“There’s a knife!” Finally, he says something that gets him to actually stop and listen. Slightly calmer, he continues, “There’s a knife next to your left hand. You should be able to use it to pry the mask off. Other left. No—for fuck’s sake be careful, try not to stab yourself—“ 

“You do it, if you’re so concerned,” he mutters, too focused on the task to even think about the retort much. Finally he manages to find the seam that holds the mask together, and gasps again, this time in relief, as it clatters to the ground in two pieces. 

The interior of the mask is warped, as if from extreme heat. The other voice decides not to point this out. 

“Fuck, that’s better. Okay. Give me a second.” He lies back down on the ground, enjoying the chill of the stone. “Wh… hah. Right. Perhaps we ought to… start over? …Friend?” 

“Oh, so you did hear me the first time.” 

“Yes. I was just—a bit preoccupied thinking I was going to suffocate in—whatever the hell that was, on my face. So. Sorry.” 

“It looks like a prisoner’s mask,” he offers. “Why you’re wearing it, I’m not entirely sure, since this doesn’t look like a prison.” 

“Yes, where are we, anyhow?” He blinks at the wall, debating the benefits of trying to get up. “And—who are you? And… how can you see our surroundings when I can’t?” 

“I… don’t know.” 

“Ah. Which… which question are you answering, there?” 

There’s a pause, and then a resigned sigh. “…All of them.”