4th Quest [Audio, early morning] [Dawntrail spoilers]

[bladeofnymeia]

[She's awake. Has been, since the weakest strains of dawn. But Firoza has not the energy or the desire to project any image of herself when she makes this post. She just wishes to speak to someone. Anyone. Even if no one deigns to respond.]

...So these months. The ones where new arrivals begin to appear. The hazy ones.

[A pause. A stifled sigh.]

They feel as dreams sometimes. Especially when whomever you met does not remain once the air clears. And...I am not opposed to dreams. Bittersweet though they might be. But it does make me wonder something.

[As much as Firoza is keeping her tone even, the emotion that seeps out is palpable. Heavy, tender sorrow. Longing and loneliness, and...a sparkling, defiant mote of hope.]

Do you think...a-and if this is personal to you, please, do not feel you have to respond. But could it be possible that the living are not the only ones who can find themselves here? That...that those who ought to have passed on, in one way or another, could still...appear?

[Just gripping those fuzzy memories of reuniting to her heart, bidding them not to escape. It would be too much.]

I ask only because...well. I adore you all, truthfully. Even if we have not been introduced properly. But I cannot ignore how sorely I miss so many from home. Both those who live, and those who do not. I just...even in a new form, I...I'd like to be a little selfish, and hope to see them again.

[She ends it there, but not without a definite sense of being torn by this desire. Both an insistent palm pressed to a deep bruise, and a gnawing worry tinged with gold.

"Am I as they were? So desperate to preserve their dead, allowing them no rest, no renewal? Stagnant and ever present in a dream?"

The thought doesn't mean to come out, but it does. Oh, it does.]

Comments

Stone Ocean Spoilers it's unavoidable gang im sorry-

[seacub]

Anasui did.

[Hi Firoza did you not know Anasui was dead? NOW YOU KNOW....

...He says it quite plainly too. Probably because the espartha has been around long enough for Emporio not to worry much about him...vanishing again.]

AND FF14 SPOILERS IN GENERAL

[bladeofnymeia]

...Is he alright with you sharing this, Emporio?

[Asked cautiously, because she doesn't want to reprimand, but like. Buddy, that's a heavy thing to drop about your friend.]

[seacub]

Yeah.

[There wasn't any hesitation there either. Though, fairness to Firoza, Emporio doesn't feel very confused about why she's asking at least?]

...I know it's probably strange to hear that but...Anasui isn't someone who really pulls away from those kinds of truths. If it doesn't seem relevant he won't mention it, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was ready to say something himself just now.

[bladeofnymeia]

I ask because I'm sure the subject can be difficult to discuss for anyone. And...I have an ability, at home. It isn't something I can quite control, so, at moments, I find myself peering into the pasts of those I am speaking to, sometimes. And as much as that power can be useful, I'm not unaware that it's very invasive.

[Echo can be a great exposition dump! But holy fuck it's not polite to just shell out secrets you've suddenly become privy to.]

SO spoilers but I see Usagi has beaten me to it

[dripdrive]

Well... I'm here after all and not bleeding out into the ocean.

[Anasui says it so matter-of-factually, it's hard to tell if he's talking about something insanely traumatic or telling Firoza he cleaned his apartment this morning.]

I thought you knew but I guess it's never come up.

audio;

[shotinhead]

[ It's quite amazing how good this mentally ill bastard has gotten at controlling his thoughts. There is a gentleness to them. Hiding any bitterness, any anger. He misses home. Perhaps, if people could come from death, he could see people he'd abandoned. People he'd lost. People he'd--

Yet, his thoughts are simply gentle, a slight buzz to them - almost a bit radio-like. But, how to explain his own thoughts... ]

We don't know what is bringin' us here. Might not care for things like... life. Death. I mean, it turns some people into ghosts. Makes 'em into symbols, tryin' to represent 'em. What stops th'forces from draggin' in the dead?

[ ??? courier six what are you on about now. ]

[offtracks]

Well.....Emmet and I are from different periods in time, so...

[ So logically, the dead could arrive here too, right? After all...if Ingo were to remain in Hisui, he would be...quite long dead. Long dead before he was even born... ]

[technusrulez]

[There's a rapid-fire overwhelming avalanche of thoughts from Technus, as is usual whenever he's on the Grumpearl network. Emotions of excitement, and support, and one actually coherent sentence-]

Death is renewal, it is only stagnant if you let it be!

[bladeofnymeia]

[A shock, a very quick scramble, a sense of I didn't mean to let that slip-!]

...It ought to be, yes. But those in other worlds may not agree.

[It's natural to live, and die, and then be reborn. It's a cycle! It keeps the star healthy!]

My apologies, I hadn't...I'm grappling with some things.

Video

[fromsprouts]

[The Lucario's ears are drooping a little, and there's a wariness in the emotional timbre of the projection. He's not sure his newbie question is welcome when she's doing serious introspection times.]

I saw someone on the beach from home, but just once. I haven't been able to find him since. Is...that what you mean by 'the hazy ones?'

She's just going to be responding via audio if that's ok

[bladeofnymeia]

I do.

[A pause.]

My apologies, if they do not turn up.

[bladeofnymeia]

...So it is a time thing, then. For the two of you.

[She's fairly certain Ingo and Emmet are brothers, aren't they? It feels like they are, if it hasn't been said aloud.]

I am not unfamiliar with time being...peculiar.

DT Spoilers but more for others than for you ;3

[bladeofnymeia]

...I just don't know how to feel about that.

[It's big conflicted. Deep sorrow, and hope, and a hungry, envious need...the fact that she can keep a lid on letting the faces of those long gone from flickering through the connection speaks to her growing experience with the Grumpearls. But the emotion is...definitely there, if restrained as much as possible.]

Where I had been most recently, before arriving here...we found ourselves in contact with a culture that found a way to preserve the memories of their loved ones, separate from their souls. They lived in a fabricated paradise, without knowing loss, their days an unending sort of...bliss. And. And it was...it was eerie.

[Now there are bits that come through - a modern city caught forever in a golden sunset. Peoples of all kinds, clothes from all times, mingling and chatting, all smiles. Idyllic pursuits and distractions. The gentle roll of water and the creak of a small boat, and a voice Courier Six would recognize from the last time he'd seen a peek into Firoza's memories.

"Tell me, my friend. Have you ever wished to be reunited with someone who has passed away?

I have. I do."]

I don't...I wouldn't...if they came here, I could never forgive myself if it kept my friends from finding peace. If they merely remained here without any ability to be reborn someday as they ought to be. But gods...to say I don't miss them would be a lie.

[bladeofnymeia]

I...I am certain I did not?

[Fret fret fret]
And I wouldn't have asked either, I - that is a private thing, is it not?

[shotinhead]

[ Restraint is laced though Courier Six as well - it feels like that radio buzz is almost there to block away memories, to protect his thoughts. A comfort to himself, even if not to the other.

An artificial paradise. Perhaps, if he had explored more of everything, he'd have more to say on them. He'd know more of them. But there is an anger in his tone. ] Guess even your world has Old World Blues.

[ A beat. ]

Uh-- sayin' from home. People obsessed too much with th'past to see the future - and livin' without knowin' death seems like that sort of thing. Changin' themselves to [ only ] live in a paradise.

[ Even if Courier Six is a transhumanist - even if he secretly dreams of ascending beyond humanity, he sees part of that as having the option to move on. Not living eternity trapped. His voice is quiet again, but there is so much care in it. ]

We still don't know how this place works. Maybe if they die here, they'll get to be reborn back there. Givin' them a temporary life outside of Heaven or Hell.

audio

[telewarped]

Well... Yeah. I don't just think it's possible—I know it is. I mean... I'm not supposed to still be around either, remember?

[It was one of the first things she and Firoza talked about when they met, back when Shoka was still adjusting to being solid and visible to the living again.]

... It's not a bad thing. To miss them.

[bladeofnymeia]

...Right. Apologies.

[She's silent for a good moment.]

I think...even if it was some kind of dream or trick...seeing them again definitely...mm. Unmoored me.

[It's the best description she can think of, this complete break and shift from the life she had been living here, and the life she now faces.]

...'Tis cruel, to have them for so short a time, and then they leave. But...ugh.

[bladeofnymeia]

It wasn't even our specific world - it was a Shard. A piece of what once was whole, having developed entirely on its own to dizzying heights of technology and magic.

[It's hard to explain the Ninth when so much of it was yet foreign to her, and difficult to grasp.]

If you want to speak of "Old World Blues", I could tell you of the Ancients, but that is an entirely different story. At least...even if it too was unsettling, to a point, at least the idea of death and rebirth as a cycle was understood. Welcome, even. [The Unsundered World had its own hangups on things, its own sorrows, its own pains. But the renewal of the soul, once explained to her in those early days of adventuring, always seemed to make sense to her. Stagnation did not.

She sighs. Long, tired.]

...One of them cannot be reborn. His soul and my own were once the same, and now joined - to speak with him again was a happy accident, but I miss him as one must miss a sibling. The other...gods, he ought to be reborn. Let him have that chance to live a long life, and do good.

[offtracks]

It is, yes. I was sent more than a century into the past, though I cannot say how exactly.

[telewarped]

Yeah. I get it. It... really sucks.

... Who was it? If you don't mind me asking.

[bladeofnymeia]

Ardbert Hylfist and Haurchefant Greystone.

[It hurts to say their names, but saying them also makes the memories feel more real. Still fuzzy, but real.]

Ardbert is...sort of always with me anyway, but. It's different to actually speak to someone in person again. And Haurchefant...ah, gods.

[A lot of heavy sadness in that "Ah, gods".]

[bladeofnymeia]

That's...

[Wretched. Unfair. Cruel.

Similar, maybe, in a tangential way, to all of them being thrust here through unknown means.]

...I am glad the two of you could yet be reunited, then.

[telewarped]

Two of 'em, huh? Geez. [Doubly rough.] What... kind of Pokémon were they?

[Maybe... talking about them a little will help?]

[bladeofnymeia]

Ardbert was some kind of bird. With a leek? A very large leek. The serious sort of set to his face was...very fitting. And Haurchefant was some kind of unicorn foal, which was appropriate - his house had a unicorn on its heraldry. That mane of his was like fairy floss...

[She's still not sending images, but Shoka gets the sense of like...a smile. A small, fond, tender smile, to think back on it. With a lot of warmth.]

I only knew them by their voices, but even in new bodies, it was still them.

[outbounds]

[ Emmet was— probably going to respond to this, actually, whether regarding this all feeling like a long dream, or faces that don't remain once the world redefines itself,

but that last bit, torn between missing and hoping and desperately stoppered gold-tinged anxieties about how clinging to those already gone might just mean stagnancy, or worse holding them back—

that part has him trying to retreat from the mental link pretty quick with nothing but a wave of sympathetic, similar-but-not feeling to mark that he'd been listening. ]