#so that they can save the future. AND THEN WHEN YOU CONFRONT HIM IN AMAUROT. YOU CARRYING OUT HIS LEGACY (remembering the ancients and

[lululeighsworld]

JUST HAD ANOTHER SIMILARITY CONNECTION. FUCK.

[trickstermakesallworlds]

despite the difficulty involved in making things make sense with this kind of story, I really do not regret my choice to make Dayir a noncombatant -- to take the "Warrior" out of "Warrior of Light"

(long post cut)

I understand the general theme of fighting for one's world, one's existence -- but I take umbrage with the methods. the Faded Memories quest in Amaurot upset me big-time the first time I went through it (and no, I do not look forward to doing it again lol), because that is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to avoid -- taking up a righteous sword and carving through people in the name of some higher cause. I don't really buy that concept, as compelling as it is in video games, and it just wears thinner and thinner as time goes on

Dayir is a noncombatant but ey are very much a fighter. the path ey have chosen is far, far harder, because not only are ey fighting for eir world and eir people and emself, but ey are fighting against the idea that people have to die in order for em and eir world and eir people to be saved. ey are fighting against the idea that "the beast tribes" are lesser beings (frex. Dayir avoids Limsa Lominsa as much as possible not just because Lominsans are... a bit crass for eir liking, but also because Merlwyb and her whole stance regarding the kobolds and sahagin drives em nuts) who deserve to be trampled all over because they dare to be so afraid for their existence and so distrustful of the people who have consistently subjugated them that they make for easy marks to the Ascians. ey are fighting against division, against senseless warmongering, against pretty much every solution ever presented to em. the reason why Dayir joins the Scions is because Minfilia goes, "no, actually... I support that. let us help."

a video game of this nature needs you to kill things to progress. fine. but remove the gaming aspect and the body count is merely horrific. so is the way the WoL blithely carries on without even a thought about it. killing is traumatising. war is hell. the Garleans are so good at it because they basically purged healthy emotionality from their society. (there's like a weird irony there when you consider who the founder of their society was, but I can't quite verbalise it.) the rest of the world just suffers. Dayir's angry Elezen companion does fight for the Scions, does kill when his hand is forced -- but he is not exempt from its horrors. Ishan attempts to sate the gnawing void inside him, but taking a life only widens the hole, only deepens the hunger. Dayir is not exempt from making mistakes. letting Ishan kill in eir name is one of eir biggest.

sometimes I think I'm being overly sentimental when I refuse to let the confrontation in Amaurot be a battle. after all, we've killed other Ascians. but those were earlier times, more uncertain times, when Dayir did not fully believe in the rightness of eir path. also, the Ascians on the Source were... let's just say extremely antagonistic. killing them seemed like the only choice if we didn't want to have to kill hundreds of other people. but Emet-Selch does not interact with us in the same way as the other Ascians, and Dayir has come into eir power as one who fights with heart and words and love as opposed to swords and spells and conquest. Azem's power is with em. against that, Emet-Selch is disarmed. and that might be wishful thinking, but so is the idea that you can just fuckin slice and dice your way into making people do what you want (and you'll somehow never get sliced and diced back...). so we're all wishful thinkers here.

Dayir proves to Emet-Selch that the Sundered deserve to live by exemplifying that spirit of old Amaurot that Emet so misses, the expansive spirit of cooperative creation, and irrefutably changing people's lives for the better through this spirit, which awakens that self-same spirit in them. Dayir continually works to halt the cycle of killing and revenge and suffering and loss that the Source had been stuck in, and that's eir Heroic trait -- as implausibly as the Warrior of Light somehow manages to kill everyone (even primals and Ascians and whatever else) perfectly and never die themself, is as implausibly as Dayir does what ey do. we all playin by anime rules here

I'm really just doubling down on the game's actual message of cooperation and friendship saving the day. the Ascians use the inherent despair of the Sundered to manipulate them into causing Calamities. Dayir and the Scions use the capacity of hope-against-hope and love-despite-all inherent to the Sundered to stand against the Ascians and render them powerless. that's really all there is to it.

(final note that I forgot to work into this post but want to say anyway: the other thing about Dayir is eir love and respect for death. death is good. death is not to be cheapened by using it as a threat any time someone does something you don't like. death is reward, bliss, rest. life is harder. having to live with what you've done is harder. choosing to live when you are suffering, to fight for a better day in the future, is harder. Emet-Selch fights against his death not because he wants to keep living, but because he doesn't believe he deserves to rest. he believes he should fight harder for his lost world. their "confrontation" is essentially Dayir fighting to convince Emet-Selch that his rest is long overdue. but that is not a conclusion that Dayir wishes to force upon him -- he must come to it on his own. Emet-Selch's life is not Dayir's to take. no one's is.)

[whispersafterdusk]

Prompt #19: To Keep a Promise (pick your own)

"Remember...remember us... Remember...that we once lived..."

His words had echoed in her mind as she'd embraced him, and felt him melt away into aether within her arms, his fading lifeforce searing the front of her armor into a blinding silver.

In those words she'd heard so many things...  To remember herself, and who she'd been.  To remember herself and Hades -- for so long Emet-Selch had been hinting at something between them, and she had already guessed what that might have been based on the sadness in his eyes each time she'd rebuffed his request to join him.  

And, of course, to remember those who had once lived...  An entire world, gone - shattered into the world Gaelle knew now, and into the First, and all the other shards.  

She'd first returned to Amaurot, beneath the sea; the city still stood and, as she'd hoped, Hythlodaeus still remained aware enough to tell her that eventually the spell that had created the city would fade, and he with it, without Emet-Selch to maintain it.  And with Hythlodaeus's additional help she'd discovered that while Emet-Selch had made the city look and feel alive, it was mostly superficial -- the insides of most buildings were hollow and empty, if one could get into them at all.  What she saw on the surface, and what she could already access, was all there was to this Amaurot...there would be no hidden knowledge or history to preserve here, no matter how much she'd hoped and prayed for it.

((Continued below cut))

Elidibus had taken all but her own memory crystal with him when he'd been drawn and trapped inside the Crystal Tower so whatever they had held was now beyond her reach.

So...it remained that, to keep her promise to him, the only way to do so was to rely on Azem's spell, to pluck Emet-Selch - no, Hades - from the lifestream, as often as she could and as often as he would tolerate, to get the answers she'd needed.

Her first use of it had been in a panic, and he'd answered her call and saved them.  The second time was weeks ago when she'd been trying to figure out how to naturally cast the spell; he'd appeared but she didn't know how to hold him there so she'd barely managed to tell him why she'd called, and gotten his permission to keep trying, before he'd faded away again.  

She'd tried again, immediately, and hadn't been able to sense that connection to the crystal again.  As much as she hadn't wanted to she'd approached Urianger and Y'shtola for help and, as she assumed she would, had to endure a lecture on why this was a terrible idea and was not safe to do.  But...she had a promise to keep.  Eventually they gave in and examined the spell, and taught her how to properly cast it (it assuaged their fears somewhat that Gaelle could dismiss him at any time with a thought, and they did have to admit the ability to summon in help from anywhere would be immeasurably useful considering they had Fandaniel to contend with still).

Aymeric, gods bless him, had been so understanding; worried at first too but once Gaelle had explained her reasons he'd wholeheartedly supported them and was willing to do whatever was within his power to help, including having a group of scribes standing ready to help her record the history of the ancients.  

However, those first few times that she'd managed to properly summon Hades she'd done it alone, shut away in the small room Aymeric had designated for her use.  He'd appeared as he'd once been, so long ago -- tall (dwarfing her in size), clad in dark robes, long flowing white hair, a face that resembled his Garlean one but was...softer, and lacking the third eye.  His eyes were still golden but paler, and his skin was paler as well.  But it was him, without doubt.

And it was during this first handful of times that she'd learned personal things - about herself, and about him, and their relationship to one another.  She'd been Eos, once, and he Hades -- they had been a couple for several years before either of them had been raised to a seat on the Convocation.  She'd been his morning star, and he her slumbering lord.  The earring he wore - a detail that had been present in every version of himself - had been a pair once, and Gaelle had worn the other...after the world was sundered it had been the only surviving physical reminder of her, and despite how Zodiark's will often pressed in on him to discard it and all distractions, Hades hadn't been able to part with it.

...and Zodiark... Hades's death had freed him of tempering.  That was all he wanted (or could bear) to say on the matter, and had grown quite upset when she'd tried to press him for more details.  She could understand that, she supposed...  Even before their final confrontation she'd wondered how much he'd done (as Emet-Selch) that he perhaps wouldn't have done if his mind had been his own.  It was clear that now, free of the primal's influence, he was acutely aware of all his sufferings, traumas, cruelties, and all he'd done to try and piece the world back together...little wonder he didn't want to talk about it.

But he was more than willing to talk about them, and the love they'd shared, and the nonsense they'd gotten up to with Hythlodaeus, or Mitron, or even Lahabrea.  He was willing to speak on day to day life in Amaurot, and what sorts of creatures inhabited the world naturally and which the Convocation had created and why.

He was willing to talk about all of it, so long as he didn't have to admit to or confront anything he'd done in Zodiark's name.

Tonight was the nineteenth time she'd summoned him; he had his back against her knees and, as he spoke, sometimes leaned back into her lap to look up at her.  She could barely detect something of substance where he pressed against her -- it was as light and delicate-feeling as a spider's web, and his head took up her entire lap considering the size difference between them.

She'd chosen not to have scribes with her tonight and her hand was cramping terribly; Hades spoke more, and also was more personable, when it was just the two of them.  Gaelle could tell she was reaching the end of her endurance regarding the spell and knew she would have to dismiss him soon.

At her feet Hades stirred and sat up.  "I can tell you're tired."

"Can you?"

He offered her one of his half-smiles.  "No.  But what I CAN tell is the passing of time and you've been holding me here for some time.  Even you have your limits, Gaelle."

She rolled her eyes with a smile.  "That is a line that keeps changing...  But you're right, unfortunately.  I AM tired."

"Then away with me so we both can sleep -- still my favorite means to pass the time, after all."

She smiled and sat the quill down, and massaged one hand with the other.  "You don't truly NEED sleep, do you?  Calling you here doesn't exhaust you in some manner, does it?"

He shook his head.  "Death is and is not sleep.  It's close enough for my liking."

With a nod Gaelle closed her eyes and let him go; she opened them in time to catch one of his little half-smiles and then, she was alone.

Flexing her hand Gaelle looked over the hastily written notes - it was hard to keep up with Hades as he spoke and she didn't want to have to waste time having him repeat himself.  The writing was at least legible enough that the scribes could read and organize it with everything else; she stacked it all into a neat pile and tucked it under her arm as she stood.

She wobbled a bit as she walked through the house proper and soon had Aymeric's manservant helping her into a chair in the dining hall where he relieved her of the stack of notes and brought her tea.  Aymeric would return from the House of Lords soon, she was assured, and dinner would not be long after.  

As she relaxed into the chair she tucked the necklace that bore her memory crystal back underneath her tunic and wrapped both hands around the cup of tea; the warmth lessened the ache in her hand so for a time she was content to sit and hold it while she waited for Aymeric to come home.  She had a lot to share with him tonight and she hoped that while she'd been busy chasing after the past that Aymeric wouldn't be bearing news of a grim future.