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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?
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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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I'm a little worried. I was sent into the Void and left my own body behind, and then I was drawn here. But.. this is my physical form so far as I can tell, so I'm not sure what's happened.
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..Do you have experience with this sort of thing?
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I see. I'm sorry.
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( He wasn't owed the right, when it came to his martial uncle. Nor himself in a strange way, but there's no uncertainty in the strength of his own pulse, here or back home. )
Enough of this, we're being sad! Eleven, when did you last eat? We've got millet over the fire, it's warm enough to not be all burned on the bottom, unless you like it that way, in which case we can definitely figure out a way.
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Eleven doesn't manage to fully cover a wince. He's so very tired of that bland taste and gritty texture]
One good thing that came from my talk with Haltham: he gave me the location of what should hopefully be a good fishing spot. We could eat millet- or try to fish up some real food.
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Oh?
... Want to go? Is it nearby?
( IS IT POSSESSED OF SPIRITUAL CARP?! )
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Eleven consults his journal]
He suggested a lake in the meadows past the rim of the forest. I don't know where the sun is right now, but at least we could find it?
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Better to check out that direction anyway, so what say you? Care to jaunt toward another section of Anurr's territory?
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I hope it's true. We'll be able to get more food for everyone- maybe prepare better for leaving.