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April catch-all!
Who: Urianger and open!
When: Aereuer
Where: Around town + dreams
What: Monthly catch-all, including (mostly) the dream event
Warnings: Potential spoilers for FFXIV Shadowbringers; n/a otherwise
A: Making Money
[Urianger has taken up a part-time job! He's minding plants at Pile's Petagorium, getting the greenhouse on the roof up and running so that the pet shop can branch out into new ventures.
Of course, he's not the only employee: co-workers are welcome to correct any mistakes he's made, or ask him for help. He's good for getting things off the tall shelves. He usually lets the others handle customers, but there's no avoiding that part of the job if he happens to be the closest person to answer someone's question about a particular offering, either.]
Have care with that shelf! 'Twas not built to bear so much weight.
B: Eternal Bookworm
[As ever, you can probably count on running into Urianger in any given bookstore around town. He's been particularly on the hunt for local folklore recently, even books intended for a much younger audience, though he might look a little absurd carrying two dense tomes and a colorfully-illustrated book of children's tales.]
C: Into Dreams
[Urianger's mirror has a graceful border, decorated with runes and designs of arcane geometry. A sleeping Carbuncle is curled up at the very top; those who know him well will also be able to pick out symbols along the sides representing each of the Scions, alive or otherwise, and star-like gems studded among the arcanist patterns.]
i - hey moon, please forget to fall down
[Urianger is younger in this memory. He's reached his full height, but he's clean-shaven, and the tattoo on his cheek isn't there yet. It's hard to tell beneath the voluminous grey robes he's wearing which conceal his whole body from the neck down, but when he moves his limbs seem awkwardly thin.
At first, he's sitting alone at a table in a library, but although he's spread books and notes out in the space in front of him and to one side, the space in front of the chair next to his own seems to have been left deliberately clear. Urianger's older self, the one whose memory this is, is standing nearby next to one of the bookshelves, gaze longingly fixed upon one end of the stacks, as if he's waiting for someone to turn the corner.
And soon enough she arrives: a pale-skinned woman just a little taller even than he is, with long white hair growing from the very top of her head and falling to one side, all the rest cropped close to her skull, and eyes so light it's hard to tell if they're blue or grey. She has the distinctive flat nasal bridge of a Roegadyn, in case her height alone were not enough to confirm her race, and she is carrying a small stack of books and notes, with a plate of meatballs precariously balanced atop it. Like Urianger, she is clad in practical clothes of a uniform stone grey, but she seems to have opted instead for a button-down shirt and trousers, with shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She sets her burden down carefully on the table beside Urianger, and grins at him when he quirks an eyebrow wearily at the plate of food.]
Got something to say, Urianger?
[He shakes his head, and smiles up at her.] Thy habits are incorrigible indeed. Many a time have I witnessed thee carrying such contraband through this house of learning, and yet never understood how the keepers of knowledge may be so oblivious to the hazard entering the midst of these hallowed materials.
If you think cockatrice meatballs are a hazard, wait until they see what I've been learning to do with an axe. [She sets the plate down between their spaces and settles into the chair beside him, spreading out her research to match his.] Thancred said you left this morning, so I figured you hadn't eaten. If you'd learn to take lunch breaks, maybe I wouldn't have to find ways to feed you.
[His dry expression says he's not buying it.] Thy concern for my health is admirable, Moenbryda, save for the fact that these were always thy preferred meal and not mine own. Surely thou dost remember a time when I could barely endure the taste.
Learning to swallow a little spice is good for you. [She winks at him, grins as he blushes to the tips of his ears, and turns to her notes. As the older Urianger sighs, face now full of melancholy, the two students begin animatedly discussing their recent classes in increasingly dense magibabble.]
ii - kept the light on inside me
[The little Elezen boy in the stone-grey robes is barely recognizable as Urianger: barely four feet tall, his grey hair is long and worn in a tight braid, and his features are childishly rounded. His golden eyes are wide with equal parts dismay and indignation, and he's clutching a small stack of papers to his chest as a more intricately-dressed adult Elezen man lectures him.]
No matter how respected the source, prophecy is known to be an imprecise art, and even the finest of astromancers have been known to misread the signs. I assure you that whatever disaster this text speaks of, there is no possibility of another Calamity on the approach. Six Calamities has life endured, one for each element, and our prosperity now is the reward for persistence through them.
[As he speaks, another man has approached, and stopped to take in the scene. His brown skin contrasts with white hair receded to the top of his head - and probably long-since, as he bears a white sigil (the same one Urianger has in the present) tattooed above his left eye, filling some of the space left behind by his hairline's retreat. A well-groomed chinstrap beard adds to the framing of his wizened face, and he's dressed in elegant clothing. His expression is pleasantly neutral as he listens, but something in the way his sharp eyes pass over the pair speaks subtly of disapproval.]
A disruptive student, Professor?
Archon Louisoix! [The first man straightens up, while Urianger seems to quail further, now abashed to have the attention of someone so learned.] ...A minor matter only. The boy needs to learn to accept when his questions have been answered.
If he still has questions, I have to suppose that they have not, in fact, been answered fully. [The Archon smiles down at Urianger, who seems taken aback and unsure how to respond.] Will you walk with me, child? Perhaps a perspective other than your teacher's will put you at ease.
Aye, s-sir. Of course. [He scampers to the older man's side.]
Now, tell me as we go of this theory you've developed. From the conversation I heard, you fear another Calamity is approaching?
[Urianger nods, eyes lighting up with renewed determination at the chance to be heard out. He indicates the papers he's carrying.] Master Archon, the writings of Mezaya Thousand-Eyes are known in scholarly circles to be of great accuracy for a prophet of her era. Though lost and scattered, more of her work hath lately been recovered. The provenance is verifiable, and the text hath been identified as a seventh verse of the Divine Chronicle - the one which detailed the individual Calamities. Well do I know that the common wisdom holds that the Sixth Astral Era will endure forevermore, yet none can provide an explanation for what else this seventh verse might indicate.
[They've passed out of the building now, into a secluded courtyard. Louisoix's expression has grown more grave as Urianger's little speech continued, and now he stops them to look down at the boy again.] And so you have been pestering your teacher to offer a more concrete reason than 'it can't possibly happen here'?
[Urianger glances away, clearly a bit ashamed.] ...He refused to hear out any further questions, so...I sought out a member of the Astrologicum. 'Tis not so difficult to learn their schedules, if one is attentive. I only wished...to see that something may be done, some preparation made, if there truly is even a chance of danger approaching.
[Louisoix chuckles at that image.] You went to get in their way, just yourself and a stack of prophecies and questions they don't want to admit they can't answer. No wonder you were being lectured. [At Urianger's glum nod, he kneels down and places the palm of one hand comfortingly on top of the boy's head.] ...I will not tell you your worries are unfounded, child. In truth, I stopped to attend to that discussion because the same subject has been on my own mind, as well.
Master Archon?
I think we might be able to help one another.
[The memory fades as the man and his new student continue onward. The full-grown Urianger has been keeping pace with them as the vision unfolded, and smiles with fond nostalgia as they depart.]
iii - it's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
[Here is a small village, half-overtaken by a field of flowers, under a bright golden-white sky, and in it Urianger is being bullied by pixies. About a foot tall, with leafy wings and clothing, they flit to and fro asking him questions. He looks exhausted, barely able to keep on his feet, but his tiny tormentors are unrelenting.]
What is it that the more you take, the more you leave behind?
[His brow furrows for a moment, as he processes the thought.] …'Twould be footsteps.
Awww, he got that one, too! Ask, then, mortal!
What belongeth to thee, yet is ever more used by others?
[The dozen or so pixies converge into a few groups, murmuring animatedly to one another, before one comes forward with a response.] Your name, of course! And it's such a shame you won't give us yours.
'Tis mine to keep. Thy next riddle, if it please thee.
[This back-and-forth exchange continues. Nearby, next to a stone statue of some kind of bird, a more responsive Urianger is watching the proceedings with vague amusement.]
Seven days and nights, they asked my company, in return for allowing me to take up residence in their lands. 'Tis fortunate for my sake that pixies are easily bored, and not well-versed in keeping time under eternal light.
iv - found my way, right time, wrong place
[A room full of books, in an eerily quiet base. The walls and floors are all the same golden-brown stone, and Urianger moves with practiced grace from shelf to shelf, lost in some research project or other. He's wearing his old goggles and hooded robe, only the lower half of his face visible, and he startles dramatically when a voice speaks up from the corner of the room.]
A clever illusion indeed. Even with all your friends out of reach, your safety seems quite assured. [The owner of the voice is a man in white robes and a red mask, even more thoroughly concealed than Urianger himself.]
[Urianger stares at the newcomer, mouth flattening into a thin line with displeasure.] ...Only one of thy number hath been witnessed so garbed. What can be thy purpose here, Emissary?
...To business, then, I suppose. [Elidibus sighs, as if he'd hoped to hold a conversation with his enemy before opening negotiations.] As I noted, despite the precautions you've taken here, you are without allies now. I have been observing your organization for some time, and of all its members, you seem the most likely to hear me out. I have an offer to make.
I can think of no reason I should accept it. The actions of thine associates have thus far been entirely in opposition to all that the Scions hold dear. Thou hast taken much from us, and proved unrelenting in thy pursuits. [Despite his ever-formal language, Urianger's tone holds a cold fury, barely restrained.]
Then consider this the first overture toward some understanding between us. What I have to offer you is knowledge: an understanding of this sundered world, and our places within it, which you are badly in need of. Have you not wondered why we seek to manipulate the balance of aether, why it is we invite the Calamities which have consumed you so with distress? [He holds up both hands palm-forward to forestall any response.] I do not ask for your answer immediately; but think on the power that I and mine hold, and how much more of it you could wield if you understood the truth of what you are pursuing. If those answer intrigue you, and I suspect they must, make your way to the Great Gubal Library in a moon's time. I shall find you there if you come; and if you do not, I will seek out others more willing, and darken your doorstep no more.
[In the next breath, he has vanished into a burst of darkness, leaving only the begoggled Urianger, slowly unclenching his fists and wilting with distress, and the current Urianger, watching the place where Elidibus vanished with a troubled expression.]
D: Wildcard!
[Want a different memory? A more specific toplevel for in town? PM this journal or hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
Renegade_one and let's talk!]
When: Aereuer
Where: Around town + dreams
What: Monthly catch-all, including (mostly) the dream event
Warnings: Potential spoilers for FFXIV Shadowbringers; n/a otherwise
A: Making Money
[Urianger has taken up a part-time job! He's minding plants at Pile's Petagorium, getting the greenhouse on the roof up and running so that the pet shop can branch out into new ventures.
Of course, he's not the only employee: co-workers are welcome to correct any mistakes he's made, or ask him for help. He's good for getting things off the tall shelves. He usually lets the others handle customers, but there's no avoiding that part of the job if he happens to be the closest person to answer someone's question about a particular offering, either.]
Have care with that shelf! 'Twas not built to bear so much weight.
B: Eternal Bookworm
[As ever, you can probably count on running into Urianger in any given bookstore around town. He's been particularly on the hunt for local folklore recently, even books intended for a much younger audience, though he might look a little absurd carrying two dense tomes and a colorfully-illustrated book of children's tales.]
C: Into Dreams
[Urianger's mirror has a graceful border, decorated with runes and designs of arcane geometry. A sleeping Carbuncle is curled up at the very top; those who know him well will also be able to pick out symbols along the sides representing each of the Scions, alive or otherwise, and star-like gems studded among the arcanist patterns.]
i - hey moon, please forget to fall down
[Urianger is younger in this memory. He's reached his full height, but he's clean-shaven, and the tattoo on his cheek isn't there yet. It's hard to tell beneath the voluminous grey robes he's wearing which conceal his whole body from the neck down, but when he moves his limbs seem awkwardly thin.
At first, he's sitting alone at a table in a library, but although he's spread books and notes out in the space in front of him and to one side, the space in front of the chair next to his own seems to have been left deliberately clear. Urianger's older self, the one whose memory this is, is standing nearby next to one of the bookshelves, gaze longingly fixed upon one end of the stacks, as if he's waiting for someone to turn the corner.
And soon enough she arrives: a pale-skinned woman just a little taller even than he is, with long white hair growing from the very top of her head and falling to one side, all the rest cropped close to her skull, and eyes so light it's hard to tell if they're blue or grey. She has the distinctive flat nasal bridge of a Roegadyn, in case her height alone were not enough to confirm her race, and she is carrying a small stack of books and notes, with a plate of meatballs precariously balanced atop it. Like Urianger, she is clad in practical clothes of a uniform stone grey, but she seems to have opted instead for a button-down shirt and trousers, with shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She sets her burden down carefully on the table beside Urianger, and grins at him when he quirks an eyebrow wearily at the plate of food.]
Got something to say, Urianger?
[He shakes his head, and smiles up at her.] Thy habits are incorrigible indeed. Many a time have I witnessed thee carrying such contraband through this house of learning, and yet never understood how the keepers of knowledge may be so oblivious to the hazard entering the midst of these hallowed materials.
If you think cockatrice meatballs are a hazard, wait until they see what I've been learning to do with an axe. [She sets the plate down between their spaces and settles into the chair beside him, spreading out her research to match his.] Thancred said you left this morning, so I figured you hadn't eaten. If you'd learn to take lunch breaks, maybe I wouldn't have to find ways to feed you.
[His dry expression says he's not buying it.] Thy concern for my health is admirable, Moenbryda, save for the fact that these were always thy preferred meal and not mine own. Surely thou dost remember a time when I could barely endure the taste.
Learning to swallow a little spice is good for you. [She winks at him, grins as he blushes to the tips of his ears, and turns to her notes. As the older Urianger sighs, face now full of melancholy, the two students begin animatedly discussing their recent classes in increasingly dense magibabble.]
ii - kept the light on inside me
[The little Elezen boy in the stone-grey robes is barely recognizable as Urianger: barely four feet tall, his grey hair is long and worn in a tight braid, and his features are childishly rounded. His golden eyes are wide with equal parts dismay and indignation, and he's clutching a small stack of papers to his chest as a more intricately-dressed adult Elezen man lectures him.]
No matter how respected the source, prophecy is known to be an imprecise art, and even the finest of astromancers have been known to misread the signs. I assure you that whatever disaster this text speaks of, there is no possibility of another Calamity on the approach. Six Calamities has life endured, one for each element, and our prosperity now is the reward for persistence through them.
[As he speaks, another man has approached, and stopped to take in the scene. His brown skin contrasts with white hair receded to the top of his head - and probably long-since, as he bears a white sigil (the same one Urianger has in the present) tattooed above his left eye, filling some of the space left behind by his hairline's retreat. A well-groomed chinstrap beard adds to the framing of his wizened face, and he's dressed in elegant clothing. His expression is pleasantly neutral as he listens, but something in the way his sharp eyes pass over the pair speaks subtly of disapproval.]
A disruptive student, Professor?
Archon Louisoix! [The first man straightens up, while Urianger seems to quail further, now abashed to have the attention of someone so learned.] ...A minor matter only. The boy needs to learn to accept when his questions have been answered.
If he still has questions, I have to suppose that they have not, in fact, been answered fully. [The Archon smiles down at Urianger, who seems taken aback and unsure how to respond.] Will you walk with me, child? Perhaps a perspective other than your teacher's will put you at ease.
Aye, s-sir. Of course. [He scampers to the older man's side.]
Now, tell me as we go of this theory you've developed. From the conversation I heard, you fear another Calamity is approaching?
[Urianger nods, eyes lighting up with renewed determination at the chance to be heard out. He indicates the papers he's carrying.] Master Archon, the writings of Mezaya Thousand-Eyes are known in scholarly circles to be of great accuracy for a prophet of her era. Though lost and scattered, more of her work hath lately been recovered. The provenance is verifiable, and the text hath been identified as a seventh verse of the Divine Chronicle - the one which detailed the individual Calamities. Well do I know that the common wisdom holds that the Sixth Astral Era will endure forevermore, yet none can provide an explanation for what else this seventh verse might indicate.
[They've passed out of the building now, into a secluded courtyard. Louisoix's expression has grown more grave as Urianger's little speech continued, and now he stops them to look down at the boy again.] And so you have been pestering your teacher to offer a more concrete reason than 'it can't possibly happen here'?
[Urianger glances away, clearly a bit ashamed.] ...He refused to hear out any further questions, so...I sought out a member of the Astrologicum. 'Tis not so difficult to learn their schedules, if one is attentive. I only wished...to see that something may be done, some preparation made, if there truly is even a chance of danger approaching.
[Louisoix chuckles at that image.] You went to get in their way, just yourself and a stack of prophecies and questions they don't want to admit they can't answer. No wonder you were being lectured. [At Urianger's glum nod, he kneels down and places the palm of one hand comfortingly on top of the boy's head.] ...I will not tell you your worries are unfounded, child. In truth, I stopped to attend to that discussion because the same subject has been on my own mind, as well.
Master Archon?
I think we might be able to help one another.
[The memory fades as the man and his new student continue onward. The full-grown Urianger has been keeping pace with them as the vision unfolded, and smiles with fond nostalgia as they depart.]
iii - it's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
[Here is a small village, half-overtaken by a field of flowers, under a bright golden-white sky, and in it Urianger is being bullied by pixies. About a foot tall, with leafy wings and clothing, they flit to and fro asking him questions. He looks exhausted, barely able to keep on his feet, but his tiny tormentors are unrelenting.]
What is it that the more you take, the more you leave behind?
[His brow furrows for a moment, as he processes the thought.] …'Twould be footsteps.
Awww, he got that one, too! Ask, then, mortal!
What belongeth to thee, yet is ever more used by others?
[The dozen or so pixies converge into a few groups, murmuring animatedly to one another, before one comes forward with a response.] Your name, of course! And it's such a shame you won't give us yours.
'Tis mine to keep. Thy next riddle, if it please thee.
[This back-and-forth exchange continues. Nearby, next to a stone statue of some kind of bird, a more responsive Urianger is watching the proceedings with vague amusement.]
Seven days and nights, they asked my company, in return for allowing me to take up residence in their lands. 'Tis fortunate for my sake that pixies are easily bored, and not well-versed in keeping time under eternal light.
iv - found my way, right time, wrong place
[A room full of books, in an eerily quiet base. The walls and floors are all the same golden-brown stone, and Urianger moves with practiced grace from shelf to shelf, lost in some research project or other. He's wearing his old goggles and hooded robe, only the lower half of his face visible, and he startles dramatically when a voice speaks up from the corner of the room.]
A clever illusion indeed. Even with all your friends out of reach, your safety seems quite assured. [The owner of the voice is a man in white robes and a red mask, even more thoroughly concealed than Urianger himself.]
[Urianger stares at the newcomer, mouth flattening into a thin line with displeasure.] ...Only one of thy number hath been witnessed so garbed. What can be thy purpose here, Emissary?
...To business, then, I suppose. [Elidibus sighs, as if he'd hoped to hold a conversation with his enemy before opening negotiations.] As I noted, despite the precautions you've taken here, you are without allies now. I have been observing your organization for some time, and of all its members, you seem the most likely to hear me out. I have an offer to make.
I can think of no reason I should accept it. The actions of thine associates have thus far been entirely in opposition to all that the Scions hold dear. Thou hast taken much from us, and proved unrelenting in thy pursuits. [Despite his ever-formal language, Urianger's tone holds a cold fury, barely restrained.]
Then consider this the first overture toward some understanding between us. What I have to offer you is knowledge: an understanding of this sundered world, and our places within it, which you are badly in need of. Have you not wondered why we seek to manipulate the balance of aether, why it is we invite the Calamities which have consumed you so with distress? [He holds up both hands palm-forward to forestall any response.] I do not ask for your answer immediately; but think on the power that I and mine hold, and how much more of it you could wield if you understood the truth of what you are pursuing. If those answer intrigue you, and I suspect they must, make your way to the Great Gubal Library in a moon's time. I shall find you there if you come; and if you do not, I will seek out others more willing, and darken your doorstep no more.
[In the next breath, he has vanished into a burst of darkness, leaving only the begoggled Urianger, slowly unclenching his fists and wilting with distress, and the current Urianger, watching the place where Elidibus vanished with a troubled expression.]
D: Wildcard!
[Want a different memory? A more specific toplevel for in town? PM this journal or hit me up at
no subject
...A conviction that usually failed to convince. Perhaps it failed to resonate because his motivation remained the resurrection of his people, not the ascension of humanity from the dregs of itself.]
You could say that all that we've done is in service to creating that better legacy. Each Calamity was a step closer... steps which have amounted to naught.
Though I will admit to the bitterest of ironies that it is by our acts that no trace of Amaurot still remains upon the Source. A loss acceptable at the time, but now....
[There would be nothing left to remember them by.]
Though if you would truly curse the loss of knowledge, I would hope you would include Hydaelyn amongst those who bear the blame. She who has hidden all from you, and who will only continue to do so.
no subject
Hydaelyn hath given us much. [The response comes slowly, his gaze still averted.] 'Tis from Her guidance that we have been granted the knowledge and power to preserve the lives we have known, the star as it hath been. Without Her efforts, we should have been overcome and overwhelmed before any of us knew what was approaching.
[His gaze turns to the memory-vision of himself, now staring at the bookshelf again, but clearly still in distress and not truly attending to whatever research he had been doing before Elidibus appeared.] And much hath She asked in return. I should not have been alone in this dark moment, had She not claimed one of our own to act as Her voice, after moons of silence in which She responded not to any of Her servants' pleas.
[Elidibus approached him at his very worst, at a time when he had nearly succumbed to grief and doubt. And even though Minfilia seemed to have gone willingly in the end, it's hard to maintain faith in a Goddess too weak to speak on her own.
Especially now knowing that Hydaelyn is another Primal.]
Thus far, Her desire to see the world maintained hath ever aligned with our own, and we were pleased to serve Her in that capacity. But thou art already aware that my loyalties are my own. ...If one day Her commands should be at odds with the advancement of life upon the star - shards and all - I have known where mine own priorities must lie.
no subject
Given much... and taken just as much away from you. Kept from you the truth of Herself, of Zodiark and our history. Taken your friend to serve Her, used our mutual friend as Her sword. And countless others before, sacrificed to a cause they know not the shape of.
[Hydaelyn was the one entity in the world Emet-Selch truly despised, and his disregard for her is more than apparent. Sighing, he spreads his arms wide.]
Setting aside Her preference towards keeping you as you are- malformed and ignorant- don't you mind the way She's used you without telling you why? Plucking individuals out to use as weapons in a war She refrains from telling you the details of? Silent to your ears until She has a use for you.... Your caution is commendable, but I wonder if it's enough. Refuse a partnership with us if you like, but as incomplete as our truths often are, [Something he'll acknowledge with a half-smile.] at least it's truths we give you.
[At another thought, Emet-Selch hums quietly to himself.]
How much do you know of the Echo?
no subject
[They'd assumed Hydaelyn was weak because of the activities of the Ascians, and he's still not entirely sure that's incorrect - and disheartening, for if even their goddess can be so weakened by these foes, how can her mortal servants hope to face them? But they have, time and again, and now knowing that she's a Primal, he's beginning to see another possibility for Hydaelyn's weakness: Primals need aether drawn from the land, and worship drawn from the Tempered. If she isn't getting enough of these things, because she's a benevolent goddess who refuses to take what is not offered freely, then it's little wonder she's been weak.]
The Echo is a gift She grants to certain of Her servants, that they may perceive beyond the limits of ordinary souls. Visions of past and future alike, the ability to see the unseen and understand speech regardless of tongue...the precise effects differ between individuals, but 'tis a vitally necessary tool.
no subject
(Not that he had any reason to be so certain of that, but it was easier to live with despair than uncertainty.)
But to that end, there was also no harm in sharing a bit of information.]
Is that another thing She's told you...? Has She offered any comment as to why we Ascians are also in possession of such a talent?
[A gift from Zodiark, Emet-Selch assumes, if She's deigned to suggest an explanation at all. Looking far too easygoing, he gestures casually with one hand.]
But as a demonstration of my continued good will, I'll tell you a little of what She has kept from you.
What you call the Echo is no gift from Her, nor any primal. 'Tis a potential that lies in the hearts of all the sundered peoples... you amnesiac remnants of my people, our star's original inhabitants. It's not special or unique, only another part of your heritage you've been made to lose.
[A thoughtful pause, though he's clearly not finished, only deciding on how best to explain. How much to explain.]
A certain memory exists burned in your very aether. Though you've lost all ability for conscious recollection, certain visions call out to it, resonate with it. Such as a meteor shower, or a comet's path- fire and stone streaking across the sky overhead. A sight reminiscent of the skies over Amaurot during its fall... wouldn't you agree? I believe you've seen my reconstruction of it. And this is 'oft enough to rouse from dormancy what's left of your original talents.
[Emet-Selch finishes with a sigh, settling back against the wall, crossing his arms again with a faint shrug.]
And there Hydaelyn waits, Her voice constantly screaming out- ensuring that the very first thing such awakened individuals hear is Her, claiming them, taking them as Her own. And so, by manipulating this phenomena, She creates new servants.
no subject
Naught was directly disclosed of the gift's origin. The prevailing theory, with no other clear hypothesis, was that Her call was itself the blessing, and the visions which attended it a mere herald of events to come. Those most lately awakened to the Echo were for the most part thus touched prior to the fall of Dalamud, an event which - if thy words are indeed truth - could likely have served such a purpose in and of itself. Visions of fire raining from the sky seemed apt in the face of such happenings, and no basis had we to query their nature further.
[He tilts his head, tapping the side of it above one of his ears in pensive thought.]
And yet I myself bore witness to Dalamud's fall, and to thy reconstruction of Amaurot's last days, but ne'er have I heard Her voice direct as others have. Indeed, I daresay if Dalamud's fall were thus effectual - and I cannot think why it should not be, unless some other mechanism is in play - full half of Eorzea ought now to carry Her blessing.