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audio | un: yiling patriarch
Hey, every one of us glorious abductees! A question, to those listening right now, brought to you by myself and Master Archeval due to the considerations of a friend, but: what would you make of being informed that, and here I'm quoting, "The man you trust was six years not among us?"
( A dramatic pause, for digestion purposes. )
All said and done, with that message slipped to me, I can say with certainty there's a handful I fully trust here, and there's none I trust entirely from here, no offense. However, there is one we've been forced to trust, ah? In hearing these words, what are your thoughts?
( A dramatic pause, for digestion purposes. )
All said and done, with that message slipped to me, I can say with certainty there's a handful I fully trust here, and there's none I trust entirely from here, no offense. However, there is one we've been forced to trust, ah? In hearing these words, what are your thoughts?
Action
TALKS ABOUT TREES INSTEAD OF INFO.But after speaking with Haltham, he will come find Wei Wuxian, journal held at his side and barely maintaining a nervous smile.]
Do you have a moment?
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Eleven! Yes, of course. What is it?
( He gestures for him to come over, then nods his head to the table nearby. )
I have hot water, are you thirsty?
( Might not be tea, but it does feel warming and filling and That's All That Matters, sometimes. )
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I ah, spoke with Haltham..
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I see. How did that go?
( Not trying to be leading, just here to listen; after all, he hadn't been lying saying that people can treat you with some kind of sincerity and still want something from you contrary to what you want for yourself.
... But also, how did Eleven go about the asking... he didn't say what his technique was gonna be, so Wuxian admits to himself at least he's curious. )
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..Well, I'd forgotten he isn't the most straightforward when it comes to answering questions. Some things were concerning, but I can't say anything for certain myself. But you're more clever than I am, so I wonder what you'll make of it.
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( Wei Wuxian hasn't minded, because he hasn't expected genuinely helpful things from most any quarter: their ragtag group included. At least he hasn't tried nicknaming Haltham, unlike Karsa.
Still, he sets his elbows on the table, eyes dropping to Eleven's journal. )
I'm happy to offer my thoughts. I take it you wrote down parts of your conversation? Will you read those off to me?
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He mentioned something wicked in the mines, that he hasn't been there in awhile.. We likely shouldn't venture there ourselves. But it seems he isn't well travelled, so wherever it is he hasn't been, it wasn't far- unless he was lying, I suppose. But he said he's spent time in the forest and the mountains. I wondered about that- the mountains are where those voices came from, isn't it? But he only spoke of the clean air up there rather than anything ominous. ..Granted, the timelines on anything I asked lacked clarity.
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( So to speak. Or are entangled with it? He's not sure how to describe, and it's more idle statement after listening to the rambling sort of words Eleven's shared. He sits back, tapping his fingers on his cup. )
Six years gone doesn't have to be far. For the merchant, it's only logical. He's not from here, he would be gone for many years, depending on what he's trading in. For Haltham, six years gone, an avoidance of the mines that he's claimed before to have been important to him and his people... I don't know, Eleven. The man's got one arm, has admitted to living in the forest. Doesn't bat an eyelash at leading us to an area that's annoying both sides, for slightly different reasons.
( He takes a sip of water. )
At minimum, he's probably part of the Anurr, and I don't know if that's when or how the arm was lost, but it does fit to particulars of their legends. Though mutilation as part of joining anything is extreme.
( Said with a short, exaggerated shiver, and then a small uptick of a smile. )
It could be just that simple, that Haltham works for the interest of the Anurr coming back to power, and wants us to help align things in that direction. If he's who Tamaiu's talking about, six years going native with the people of the forest, taking up a trade other than his traditional one, coming back down at an opportune time when he can pass and knows people in both places... doesn't seem so unlikely.
( He takes another sip of his hot water, not looking too concerned. More... annoyed, a touch, and thoughtful. )
With that in mind, what are your own thoughts?
no subject
I think.. he certainly isn't affiliated with Unhalad at least. It would make sense, why he helped free us beyond common decency..
[Although he'd hoped that had been his only motivation, Eleven's heart sinks with this new knowledge]
I think you're right. He expressed some familiarity with this farmhouse, as though he used to spend time here- either as a child or as a refuge I can't say, but.. everything makes a great deal more sense if he's aligned with Anurr in some fashion.
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He did? Isn't this place where Anurr is supposed to have met previously with, I don't know, whatever people he needed to in order to run a... ( he gestures with his hand. a very small empire? a region. a whatever, before and after it was a possessed-like zombie run state? )
Not to mention those accounting books are all old. I don't think you casually could, but—how old is Haltham? ( Another pause, thinking back. Not on Haltham in this case, but on the wolves, the twice living who were of Anurr's faction. ) How much of Haltham is Haltham?
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He said he'd only been able to mine for a few years before they were overrun. I couldn't press him for an exact number without rousing suspicion, but he'd said the mountains used to be peaceful, that him and the other children? Were able to play before..
[His brows furrow] When was it that Unhalad came to power, however? It couldn't have been too recently.
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Why not? Though depends on what you consider too recently. Wasn't two months ago, but we got here and learned pretty fast Unhalad is the new power, Anurr is the lasting old one. Both are pretty heavy into slavery, as evidenced by my friend here.
( He reaches out to pat the cloak that is... just there. Hanging out. All folded. Tattered. Filled with soul. )
This concept of peace, that ideal, hasn't existed since either Anurr or Unhalad existed. Either he grew up with the people of the forest, which is possible but might have been worth someone else mentioning, or he is, or remembers, growing up from before then.
( He sets down his cup and holds up both hands. )
That body in the lake is older than it should be, according to general memories, but so is our friend in the cloak, and this place. The writing's old, the man in the lake is old, everything is centuries or something like that, from what we can tell. If Haltham remembers that, then maybe Haltham's not who he once was, or Haltham's changed to be Haltham these days.
( He's talking around a point about things like possession or longevity, but really: )
Which hey, I don't know! Could be either. But let's go with this, if he's been misleading us all along: what's the purpose, and what's the gain? Where does he want to lead us by the nose, and how willing have we been to be led like donkeys bribed by apples dangling from strings?
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Eleven instead stares at the cloak with some apprehension, feeling a touch ill with its proximity. How could fabric emit such death? He wants to move away from it, but remains put to avoid an inadvertent slight to Wei Wuxian. Still, he can't quite hide his distaste]
What is that?
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On the question of the cloak, Wei Wuxian reaches out to pat it again. )
The cost of a man standing for his faith against a society that believed otherwise, killed for his belief, then bound to the cloak of his executioner. His name's Asgeirr! He manifests if you'd like to talk with him sometime.
( He notes the look of distaste, and ignores it. Because for all they worry about the outside necromancer lords...
... They have two who live here, too, and Wei Wuxian just happens to be the most sociable of the lot of them, in his own ways. The ones that seek to provision, and protect, and trusts little of some things and much of others, who draws warm baths and exhausts himself in happy, small ways, and would bleed for every bastard here, and only point out in the process that it's always a choice. )
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A dead soul? Bound to a cloak.. [He'd think it a malevolent spirit just for how it feels, but then, so would he have believed Archeval to be an enemy just for the touch of dark energy if he hadn't been shown differently before he regained that sense. If Wei Wuxian can speak fondly of it, then perhaps it isn't. Still, he has some reservations]
Shouldn't.. can he not be sent on?
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( Wei Wuxian says this chipperly, picking up his cup again and draining the rest of the warm water. )
He's not particularly resentful, just persistent, if anything. Steeped in death not just his own I'd guess, and he'd been locked in that bank for who knows how long. My guess is he'd like to see more of the world again before he'll decide to move on, so why not let him? He harms no one and nothing. Is it on us, to dictate what even the dead are allowed to wish, when it doesn't harm the living?
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I guess.. I don't know enough about the afterlife here to say for certain. Only, the other forms of undeath present in this world have been far from kind.
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( He says with an exhalation, as if something is slotting into place. Wei Wuxian's head tips to the side, and he considers. )
On my world, the body can't be given this kind of second life as we see here, after experiencing a true death. You can save people from the brink, you can control them, turn them into puppets, and sometimes they can't come back from that, but a body that's ceased to function? Not that. Spirits linger, energies linger, but a body has only one life. It's been... very interesting learning otherwise here, and I'm still not sure what to make of it at times. They all feel different, did you feel that too? Unhalad's compared to Anurr's.
( He stands, going for the hot water again and pouring for himself. Lifting the cast iron kettle, he quirks a brow in invitation for if Eleven wants any more of the hot water himself. )
To me, there's a difference between a death being stolen back from you, forcing some part of your essence to live on, or having your body taken over by some other essence, that wears it like an ill fitting cloak, and a death that was yours, and you linger after. Not because either is less horrifying. Not because death is less frightening for finality, and some people would take that form of immortality, if they thought it was immortality. I don't know that it is.
( He trails off, then shakes his head again. )
Lingering as resentful energy would be anyone who dies too soon, too suddenly, too tragically, on my world. Some of them recall more than others, have a firm idea of what they resent, or who. Some are less aware, more generally angry, or upset, or sad. If a person is dead, and knows it, but chooses to linger, does it make them evil? Does it make their existence unkind? Are we obligated to decide for them, you must go? Because to us, it is cruel you exist like this? I don't know that we're helping so much as dictating if that's the case... at least after making the offers, so they know its an option. Then again, some souls need to be sent on for their own sake, ah? When there's no mind left, no intention but the anger, or fear, or desperation they died with.
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And the thing of it is- his own answers would have been so much more clear cut, before. But he now knows of spirits that lingered- one of them selflessly, calling out for aid.. and aiding him through time itself. Though he had yet to experience it himself, he has no reason to disbelieve Hendrik.
And so his brows furrow, conflicted and speaking around the point in reflection of that]
My senses aren't so keen as yours, I think. Life and death.. darkness and light- these are all I can determine. The undead that linger manifest from restless souls. But not all undead spirits are malevolent- I understand that- though perhaps they are rare. My- my.. ancestors devised a ritual to send those that had been cruelly torn from life, those lost and unable to find their way back to Yggdrasil in death. A soul unable to return, unable to be reborn.. it's an interruption in the cycle- a failing.
[He frowns, eyes lowering] But it's true that I know little about the workings of this world. If you're sure he isn't malevolent, then I'm willing to take your word.
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( He sits again, sipping at his water as Eleven talks. Only at the end does he speak again. )
Thank you for your trust. I won't guarantee, but as of yet, he's been nothing malevolent. None of the feel of it either. As for interrupting cycles...
( He stares down into his cup, thinking of his living martial uncle here. The man who had broken so thoroughly, his soul had shattered. )
Souls can shatter on my world. If they do... if a soul is shattered, or entirely consumed, it can't return to the cycle of reincarnation. Delaying a soul from its return to that cycle is considered an aberration, evil, wrong; regardless of what that soul may wish. Sensible in some cases, less so in others, but something to keep in mind.
( Lifting his cup, as if in a cheers to Eleven. )
We can see we don't add to that number, as much as we're able, while we're here.
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Yes. [Said without cheer, but with considerable feeling. He takes a long draught of water to stave off a shudder, and spares a brief wish that it were something far stronger] Even a meaningless existence in the Void seems preferable to what may await us here should we lose our lives to the undead of this world.
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Speaking from experience?
( Because in its own way, that defines sixteen years of his life, when he should have been dead, should have died. )
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Somewhat. I entered the Void shortly before I arrived here. I understand what it is, what it's supposed to be, and what happens to those souls that are there now. I was hoping to save one of them before his body crossed death, but.. then I was brought here.
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( Saying this in front of a cloak of a dead man is amusing in a morbid sort of way. )
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I imagine it isn't supposed to, but the man who entered had crossed over voluntarily. It isn't an unheard of practice, apparently. I think I'm only meant to warn him that he's running out of time to return to his body.
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