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ohmyarceus2020-03-02 08:05 pm
indigo_events) wrote in ohmyarceus2020-03-02 08:05 pm
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no subject
His Murkrow seems to give up for now. At least in terms of taking anything from Estinien (no food to be found, it seems), and instead clambers to the top of his head. Bird nest indeed.]
How very interesting. I suppose whomever spirited us away recognized I was worthy of two. But I'm sure you'll catch up soon enough.
[It's better that Estinien doesn't know, and if he can keep him from finding out about his involvement, he will. After all, it's not like he'll be up to anything good within their organization.]
no subject
Estinien almost feels sorry for it--it seems to want something, protection perhaps? Though if what he's learned about his own creature is accurate, these want not for ways to protect themselves. But they each have their own personality.]
I confess to not understanding the point of all this.
[Why drag them away from their world? Why give them strange beasts to train to defend themselves, instead of letting them have their skills and weapons so they can do it themselves? Why is this happening?]
no subject
Maybe somewhere Emet feels a little shitty for being so...distant, it's not the wretched thing's fault it's more or less a mockery of him and his people. Doesn't change the fact that he's also pretty petty at times.]
Neither do I, though I am loath to admit it. However, I intend to find out, one way or another.
[Finally, he glances to the Yamask, which seems to glow from the acknowledgment! But Emet's face reflexively recoils with disgust as it draws nearer, tilting his head away from it. Deflated, it backs off, settling to float off to the side once more.]
These beasts are nearly comical in design. You would think whomever had the power to bring us here and rob us of our abilities, could at least design something halfway decent.
[He's of the mind that these creatures are constructs of some sort. Perhaps not unlike the phantasms of eld found within the walls of Akademia Anyder. Just...of poorer design and power.
Maybe this is why he doesn't feel so bad leaving them in their balls, for those creatures mocked life, but were not truly living.]
no subject
Design?
[He doesn't know what evolution is, so some power making these creatures out of thin air is...as good an explanation as any for where they came from, he supposes. But he's never really put much thought to it before. Some distant thought niggling in the back of his head from when he was a simple farmer's son pipes up about breeding particular animals to pass on desired traits, but...]
no subject
Emet-Selch, however, pauses a moment at Estinien's question. He could explain, but then he wonders if doing so would be lost on the man. Then again, he's seemed a fair bit more clever than he rightly gave him credit for.]
Yes, design. I'm certain by now you are familiar with primal summoning, even the lesser version of that you mortals dabble in with your arcane beasts. Think of it like that--after all, look at these creatures.
[He gestures to the Yamask, then to the Murkrow and Vulpix.]
Do you honestly think them the product of anything natural? I doubt not they can breed on their own, but little do I believe they were of nature's design.
[He sighs.]
Such theories would be put to the proof, if not for my Sight being taken from me...alas.
no subject
He glances down at his little fox companion, who's settled back down, decided she wants to be carried, and is now slightly chilling his arms through his sleeves and gloves.]
I had not thought on it.
[He seems to be, now.]
They seem more...animated, than those summons. I must admit, the practice is not so widespread in Ishgard save for the odd adventurers passing through, and so I could not say for certain.
[When was the last time you saw a Carbuncle decide it wants to perch on someone's head, or be carried about like a pet?]
no subject
Well, yes, because you have not bore witness to true creation magic, nor the nigh indescrutable difference between it and life itself.
[He seems to be getting more animated as he talks, the slow languid movements getting a slight more peppy.]
But say that the one responsible of our capture is intrinsically talented in all forms of arcane arts, shall we? 'Twould require a wide range of study--one of which goes beyond even an immortal being like myself. Whomever brought us here, did so through both time and space--not a simple feat, I assure you. Now, 'tis not only our reality in which he has plucked from, but several.
[As he talks, he gestures with his hands. Almost more talking to himself, than Estinien proper with how little he's looking at him, or how he barely even gives him a chance to get a word in, if he even tries. Murkrow is watching him, as if he understand even a little bit of this at all, and the Yamask seems fit to merely float along beside him. Perhaps gaining a sort of energy from his trainer's excited explaining.]
Do you believe that such a mage would not be able to make creatures so true to life, so convincingly real, that most could not tell the difference? Particularly when he can spirit away someone as powerful as I, while likewise nullifying my power?
[Does he even breathe??]
If these creatures are real beasts or arcane, I am ill equip to determine, but I know well the mark of Creation, and while I cannot be full certain of my theory, I have yet to be convinced otherwise.
no subject
He just keeps walking as you talk and gesture to yourself. Honestly, he's only half paying attention. Sure, this is interesting information, but do you really have to use so many words to explain it?
(Seriously, do you breathe?)
Emet's little tirade took up so much time, the trees are visibly thinning and the edges of buildings and roads are starting to come into sight.]
Twould mean they were more skilled than you, would it not?
[That's gotta rankle. Makes him feel a little warm and fuzzy thinking about it.]
The alternative being whatever force brought us here is skilled or powerful enough to pull us between worlds, remove our abilities, and that is all. That these creatures are merely natural to this world.
no subject
It's fine, he figured you wouldn't be able to keep up, and some of this is just putting to words what he's already been thinking. Already been working out. The more he sees of these Pokémon, the more he's convinced they are not natural beings at all.
Have you seen a Magnemite, Estinien????]
...There's no sense in denying it. Yes, one being more skilled and powerful than I—though I am sure it pleases your ears to hear me admit it, this is naught to be smug about. He is as much a villain to you, as he is to me, and for this purpose, we are allies.
[He glances at Estinien finally, seemingly ignoring the town's growing proximity, but he does take note of it. Thank Zodiark for that, honestly.]
My failures are your failures. But regardless of the nature of our selfsame foe, and whether or not these beasts are naturally occurring—though high are my doubts of that—the true problem remains ever the same: whomever is behind this would have a power nigh equal to Zodiark or Hydaelyn.
Naught else explains their ability to so keenly rob me of my sense.
no subject
No, he hasn't, and you're right, once he does he will question the fact that it's alive.]
I hesitate to pick my enemies so quickly. We know not why we are here, only that we are.
[Now, the question is, are you going to split ways with him when you get to town? He hopes so.]
If whatever force brought us here truly meant to cause harm, why would they bring myself and not the Warrior of Light along side you? I am a skilled fighter, but not as strong as they.
no subject
Being in Team Rocket, he has seen a great measure of these Pokémon, each almost more absurd than the last. Even their world has some weird ass creatures, but not living magnets beyond what's created by man! And even those aren't alive. Maybe then his tinfoil hat won't seem so crazy.
Emet's smug expression sours a moment at Estinien's comments, his pale colored eyes seeking to lock with his companion's.]
I know well you mortals mark us Ascians as unscrupulous scoundrels, ever whittling away the hours of eternity by plotting our dark schemes and blood-drenched course...but let it be known, while your absence might not have any lasting harmful effect upon our star, mine most assuredly will.
[Now they seem to be just outside the city limits, though more a town with its size, Emet-Selch slows his pace, raising his arm for his Murkrow to land upon. It does, shifting on Estinien's head a little as it lifts with a flap of its wings, before settling to perch on Emet properly.]
What harm this hidden foe has caused in so doing will be far more immeasurable than you realize. For we Ascians are no more villains than what you choose to believe—not unlike the dragons of your war laid to rest.
You merely lack perspective.
no subject
He watches calmly--but he is certainly not going to declare your goals just, only from your say-so. The loss of life--not only on their own world, but multiple others--is unconscionable. Just because you don't think they're alive doesn't mean they aren't. Just because you deem their lives lesser is no reason to destroy them. It's not the sundered's fault your world was destroyed. The mortal races didn't ask to get caught up in this.
He would empathize. He would. But...the ends do not always justify the means.]
You think I would not understand, because I am inherently lesser than you. Perhaps you are correct. What is a mortal life to an immortal one, but a candle set against an inferno?
That does not mean we do not have the right to live, or to fight to protect our own.
[He knew Nidhogg's grief. He'd felt it, keenly as it was his own, when their souls were intertwined. How things could have changed, if the elder wyrm could be reached, reasoned with. But nay, he did not change his course, and therefore his death was the only way to stop the bloodshed--for not even all Nidhogg's children wished to fight with man, but the control their sire had over them would drive them mad if they did not. Faunheim was proof of that.]
I tire of this. You say that we cannot understand your reasoning--yet you also cannot understand why we fight to oppose you. Or you do, and have decided that because we are lesser, it matters not. Is that perspective enough?
no subject
Emet-Selch too enjoys not the loss of life, though he reasons with himself that it scarce counts as such. Though, he'd be a fool to say he fully believes it, for if that were the case then he like as not wouldn't grow attached as he does, wouldn't have mourned his son, wouldn't have hoped or had faith.
Even in the Warrior of Light he's found hope again, though he's ignorant of the disappointment that would be sure to come his way ere long. The loss of life has proven a necessary endeavor until now, or so he's believed, and if he truly cared not for the loss, then he would not seek a path of lesser tragedy.
Yet still he marches forth on this bloody path, be it of his own true will, or Zodiark's; but the course cannot be denied.]
Nay, I did not say you could not understand, merely that you lack the perspective—the knowledge—to do so. Knowledge, that if you prove worthy, will be freely yours, for I know the history—the truth—of our world better than any of your short-lived historians ever could.
[However, the more serious expression of his ebbs away, and his annoying smirk returns. With a pointed shake of his arm, his Murkrow makes his way up it, settling on his trainer's shoulder as Emet lets his arm fall to his side.]
Do not mistake me, for I wish to understand the other side. Thus did I approach your companions, and thus I have yet kept their company upon their journey across the First, aiding them in their endeavor.
[With lethargy, he gestures with one hand, a bit dismissively.]
But such talk is for another time. We are at our destination, and safety is most certainly assured, Dragoon.
[And with that same tired gait, he sets forth again, using his free hand to wave in that languid, eccentric way he does. His Yamask following close behind, while his Murkrow seems keen on keeping an eye on Estinien.
As he continues, he calls back without so much as looking over his shoulder as he does:]
Worry not, we will meet again, friend.