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ffxiv: irhya pendhula

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Who: Irhya Pendhula and others, including possibly you!
When: Aguril
Where: Various places
What: Some open prompts for quests!
Warnings: N/A at the moment, possible violence later.

1) Loosely Threaded

[You may be on the other end of a string these days. Unfortunately, the other half of the string has been pulling on it. Incessantly. She prowls around town, primarily during twilight with her cloak on, to try and locate the other half of her connection, examining the responses of other people around her every time she makes a tug on the line.

Trouble is, there's also a giant cobweb of these strings to contend with, so it's hard to tell even if someone does act like their link is being pulled on. She tries following the thread to its end instead... surely if she follows it for long enough, she'll be able to narrow down where the end point is?

Even if that happens to be at someone's house. She knocks on one door and prays to the gods she doesn't look like an idiot for this.]

2) Revenge of the Worms

Aww, who's a good little wormie...

[Scraping the algae off the walls with her nails is a pain in the arse, but it works. If she gets all of it, that means they'll naturally be drawn to her, right? There's a worm right next to her gnawing happily at the wall, and she seems unbothered by how unsightly it is, occasionally dropping bits of the stuff into its mouth while being careful to avoid the teeth. Horseworms... who knew.

Her ears twitch, however, and she is quickly alerted to another presence, perhaps multiple presences in the area. She can hear the skittering steps of another worm very close by, and drops the pile of algae to keep it distracted and calm while she runs to check it out. It turns out to be a worm ridden by a nomad, using it like a battle steed to protect them -- perhaps knowing that the handlers will want to avoid friendly fire.

But with just a sword, and one this large, Irhya runs a huge risk of doing just that. She doesn't want to hurt the worm, but the one on its back...]

Hey. [She flags someone down nearby.] If you're free, I could use a hand with one. I need to separate a worm from its rider, but I don't have much means to do so myself...

3) For Emet-Selch (Lady in the Lake)

[It has been a while since the last spat they had. Long enough, she supposes, that she can approach him again, though she thinks the better of going into his space to do so. Instead, she ambushes him in the kitchen, sitting at the table in waiting because she knows he'll eventually have to come and feed himself.

...She may have been waiting a while now, evidenced by the small embroidery hoop on the table next to her to keep her busy with.]

Hi. Are you busy today?

[She's fully expecting an answer like, "for you, I'm always busy" or some such, but she'll give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Maybe he's cooled off enough with time...?]

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[Creatures of the dark as they both were, at least the time of day suits them. Irhya gets a light shrug as her greeting, but at least Emet-Selch doesn't seem particularly agitated either, and her current attitude, at least, does little to provoke him.]

'Hunting' is a bit of a misnomer, isn't it? 'Tis not as though we're attempting to catch her.

[That is to say, yes, he's ready to leave, closing his door after him.]

I hope the reward is worth disturbing some unsuspecting ghost and her treasures.

No, I suppose not... I rather suspect she'll find us before the opposite happens.

[Well, now that he says that, maybe she ought not tell him she's just doing this for kicks and not for the reward... Better just take whatever they get out of this, then. Who knows, she might be thanking herself later.

As they head out the door, she swings a small bag with a few things in it over her shoulder. Provisions never hurt, if it's such a long walk.]

I still don't know what's so special about these pearls, though. Valuable, yes, but is that really it? Surely the Coven would have better ways of raising funds if that's what they needed them for? So I'm thinking they may be enchanted or cursed somehow, because damn near everything of value here is.

Well, if nothing else, consider it some good exercise. Even squishy sorcerers need that sometimes, too.

[Though really, doing it for curiosity's sake is no worse than doing it specifically to steal some poor ghost's collected treasures out of greed or opportunity. It might even be better, in some ways. No matter the reason though, he'd find a way to be a bit grumpy about it. Almost like he enjoys being contrary.]

Or it's an object wanted purely because it's something not in their possession.

[He'll certainly proscribe the least sympathetic intent without hesitation. But it's followed with a huff of breath at the rest of Irhya's words. He got plenty of exercise. Maybe.]

But be that as it may, this sorcerer would prefer to limit his exposure to exertions unnecessary.

[Emet-Selch will never forgive this world for forcing him to walk so many places. Whenever he was pretending to be a mortal back on the Source, that was fine, that was walking with a purpose. It was even fine, occasionally, to walk somewhere if he chose to, when he felt like it. But here, where there was frequently no other option... it was just the smallest added insult to a heap of other, worse insults.

Anyway, that's why he learned to teleport. He can't make it all the way to the Wilde, of course, but to the teleporter that'll take them there, certainly. And it's without any particular warning that he lays a hand on Irhya's shoulder, conveying them abruptly partway to their destination.]

[She's about to make her reply when she feels his hand on her shoulder and suddenly finds herself transported elsewhere. It takes her a moment to look around and assess where he's teleported them to, and to regain her bearings. It's been too long since she's teleported anywhere...]

I guess I won't complain when it serves a practical enough purpose.

[When he's just being lazy, though, don't count on it. She steps forward again, then turns back to look at him after a hesitation.]

...I don't suppose you can do that again, can you? Not that I don't think making you take a walk isn't worth it, but it's quite the time saver.

[It's probably not that easy, but not being able to use magic herself has meant she hasn't taken the time to learn how it works here, either. It's something she's beginning to realize could prove a weakness in the future.]

[All of his teleporting serves a practical purpose, Irhya. All of it. Even when it's between rooms of a shared house.]

If you mean, can I take us to the lake directly... tragically no. [He shakes his head, spreading his arms out in a gesture of regret.] I can only teleport to locations I've already been, and even then, distance is a limitation- though I can go quite far, by the standards of this place.

[A faintly disapproving tone there; these standards were clearly not up to Ascian levels. Area familiarity was also a limitation, but he deigns not to mention it; he had an eye for those sorts of details, anyway.]

So you'll get some of your walk, in the end.

Ah. Pity, that.

[Her lips quirk as she restrains a comment about him being subject to mortal teleportation rules now. Well, it's not so bad; it gives them time to talk.

Speaking of which... She waits several steps in before she makes her first move. Her pace is fairly practiced, trained to be brisk to make up for her short stride, though she has no idea if his longer step will make up for it, or if he'll take his sweet time.]

...I apologize, by the way. For earlier.

[All in all, their strides could be worse matched. She was smaller but brisk, he was taller but slow. And though he could go even slower than this, to deliberately force her to change her gait if she didn't want to zoom past him, he deigns not to. They were set about a specific task, and drawing out the walking bit would only spite himself, really.

So it's his normal languid tempo.

Her apology draws a sideways glance, though he doesn't pause.]

I won't argue that I'm not deserving of one. [He's certainly arrogant enough to assume that.] But what precisely are you regretful of this time?

[She manages to bite her tongue on a witty comment in response to his deservingness, because that's not the point and she knows it.]

The whole argument we almost had earlier about your willingness to do this at all. And if I can, extend that to the one before that, too.

[Irhya sighs. There's so many it's hard to keep track anymore; hopefully he remembers.]

I suppose I haven't been entirely fair to you in my expectations. And I did say I was going to try to stop pulling that sort of thing, but until I'm aware enough to catch myself before rather than after the fact, all I can do in the aftermath is apologize and file it away. The same goes for the argument prior, because if I recall, you even pointed it out long before I realized I was doing it.

[Which wasn't until after the hurt and upset in that case, unfortunately. She glances at his side, her eyes ending up landing on his hand.]

So, I suppose you are deserving of one, yes.

[There always were a lot of arguments. Sometimes, he can even recognize that he helped to incite them (those were the worst times). It's a point of familiarity that annoys him (and yet, because it is a point of familiarity, he can't discard it either), especially because he did tend to remember each failed point of discussion, rather than putting it all from his thoughts as he would've preferred. As would've been easier. As would've been possible, were he indifferent to her.]

A belated realization is better than none.

[That is to say, apology: accepted, more or less. Emet-Selch pauses in word, though his steps continue; was this when he was supposed to admit to his part in things?]

--I suppose my phrasing could be less direct, at times. [That's probably as close to an apology as Irhya's likely to get.] Yet when I'm not, I find myself misunderstood.

Direct is fine. There's no problem with your phrasing.

[She says it with a cool ease that seems to indicate she's less than concerned about having him change his ways. Besides, he isn't wrong; and when one is a master of manipulating his own words to avoid lying while also controlling the flow of information, there's likely little room for change.]

But I appreciate it all the same. It's just that I shouldn't take it so personally. It's not how I usually deal with it...

[But when it's him, sometimes she can't help but get ruffled. With people like Estinien or Sidurgu, it's simply a prickly attitude cushioned by a healthy respect for the people who have stuck by them. But Hades... Hades will probably never respect her, not fully. And she hasn't gotten to the point where she can accept that yet, even though her rational mind knows it's a dead end.]

Well, as long as we have an understanding. I think... maybe we'll get on a little better if I keep myself from veering in that direction again.

[He could respect who she had been, and that carried her further than most mortals. But as for who she was now... no. He couldn't. Not as she was, and not as he was. Emet-Selch could be invested, he could be interested rather than indifferent, he could even like her from time to time- but none of that encompassed respect.]

Well, if you've no problem with my behavior, then I won't hold back.

[It's lightly said, but there might be the smallest bit of easing to it. If Irhya had thought she'd identified the problem and sought to fix it, and didn't expect him to change whatsoever- then he could live with that.

(And in return, if he could trust that she did genuinely want him at his most honest, then- perhaps it might be easier to obtain some manner of consistency with her, rather than veering between snapping and concern, politeness and anger, frustration and... other, different frustration.).]

Nothing is ever fixed in a day, is it? 'Twould be a nice surprise, though, now and again.

I guess.

[Not entirely what she wanted to hear, but it's something. As long as he tolerates her, doesn't turn away in disgust at the sight of her, she supposes that'll do for now.]

Besides, we missed Lùnasa. I can't very well let you get away without doing something for it.

[She smiles wanly at him. This time, she just has to not accidentally shatter any progress she makes by doing something self-destructive. Right?

The teleporter is just around the bend here, and it should be able to take them pretty close to their destination. Then, it's just a matter of being noticed by their prey. Or are they her prey, perhaps?]

[Anything other than tolerance is likely to be a long road, if it's even possible at all. Even the step just above it- acceptance- isn't ever guaranteed.]

Such as? I can't imagine the theme of it to be terribly relevant.

[An idle comment as they arrive at the teleporter, and from there to the edge of the Wilde. And from there- it really shouldn't be that far to the appropriate lake and its appropriate ghost. Going unnoticed wasn't likely to be a problem; even on an approach there's an eerie sort of feeling- a mood of warning. A suggestion unsubtle to turn back, an impression of grief and anger and pain- and how cruel or selfish did one have to be to disturb someone who clearly wanted to be alone, all for the sake of a few trinkets?]

Why wouldn't it be? Isn't it in part about mending broken bridges?

[But as they approach the body of water, the unwelcoming atmosphere sets in, and she snaps to attention, her mouth hanging slightly open as her ears perk up.

Cats have reputations for being familiars, after all. Maybe miqo'te are not so different.]

Uh...

[She knew from the start they wouldn't be the first ones to try it, but to actually come up against the sheer hostility is another matter entirely. And Irhya is not without sympathy for her, and would be happy enough to leave her alone, but... well...

There is the suggestion of a whisper against their ears shortly thereafter, a voice without breath. The ghost doesn't present herself just yet, seemingly taking stock of them from spectral safety.]

"You seem not to want to be here, either."

[Contrarily, there is absolutely no sympathy for them in that statement.]

I think it may take more than a festival for that.

[It's a mutter given mostly to himself before distracted entirely by the sound of a voice that was neither of theirs.

Without thinking about it, he's tensed, for all that he's not quite sure what that or anything else would do, in the face of any kind of spectral assault. But not being able to see where the voice was coming from was less than comfortable, though he forces himself to settle somewhat after a pause. It wasn't as though people were warned away from coming to this place entirely, on fear of death. To the contrary, they were encouraged to hassle the ghost.

And so, they would hassle. The comment itself gets a heavy sigh, more laborious than required. Tension remained, but he could do a fine show of calm, put-upon apathy.]

On several levels, you could say that. Unfortunately for us both, she'd care for a handful of your treasures.

[A careless gesture in Irhya's direction.]

You are just...

[Irhya shoots him a withering glare for both those remarks. Gods, and they even went through the song and dance about whether he really wanted to accompany her or not! She feels the offense rise in her stomach.]

Call me what you will for disturbing a lady's rest, but your treasures seem to have caught the interest of a great many people. And I admit... I was a little curious as to the nature of a ghost they've had such trouble exorcising.

[A long enough pause that deceives her into thinking there will be no response.

Then, slight movement out of the corner of her eye. But the words are earmarked for him, not for her.]

"Do you take some morbid delight in your own misery, then?"

[It's a glare met with an idle, albeit smug, look. It doesn't even get a shrug of 'apology'; as far as he was concerned, both things were true. Just because he'd come out here willingly with her didn't mean he had suddenly wanted to. There were, after all, very few things Emet-Selch wanted to do, and traipsing through the wilderness with someone he frequently argued with did not number among them.

And yet, he was here.

The pause after Irhya's reply is long enough that he almost speaks up, to point out that, perhaps, the ghost was thinking better of remaining in her company as well. But then the voice returns and- Emet-Selch had the most annoying feeling that the words, the question, was directed primarily towards him.]

Hardly. But you could say I'm resigning myself to enduring the company of my lessers.

[A true statement, perhaps, but not necessarily honest. Or appropriate. And for a moment there's silence, but it doesn't feel like the mulling over of a response, but a silent welling up of pressure. Of anger, disapproval, grief. And the ghost screams.

A cry of- not necessarily pain or fury, but both and neither, and in some ways is simply sound, terrible and deafening. The sort of thing that would raise anyone's hackles, and the Ascian does flinch back from it, barely even noticing the scratch mark running down his face, or the beading up of blood from the wound.

An unacceptable reply, apparently.]

So you don't appreciate the truth either, then? Perhaps you were drowned for a reason.

[A response that's snapped out even with his ears ringing, apparently choosing to greet this thoughtful rebuttal of his answer with... that.]

Yes, insult her, that's not totally counterproductive here.

[All the same, she steps herself in front of him protectively, despite not really knowing where the attack is coming from. Maybe nowhere at all, given the spectral nature of their... opponent. Should she even be considered as such? This is really more a battle of wits, but it'll soon come with physical consequences if he keeps jabbing at her like that.]

Look, he's a jerk, I know. If you wanna take it out on someone, take it out on me.

[The response is almost immediate. It's also obvious in the temperature dropping, little by little, to cold and clammy levels. Almost as if to match the ghost's tone, and her mood.]

"Indeed. Why risk yourself to protect a man like him, with so many others around you who reward your efforts instead?"

[...That's it? That's all she wants to know from her?

Irhya sighs and runs a hand through her hair.]

I keep telling everyone, don't I? Because I like the things I'm not supposed to have. Call it doing things the hard way, I guess.

[Stepping in front of him as though to- shield him?- draws another frown even as he's collecting himself, though it's one based more in confusion. Why- that would always remain a sticking point with him. A hero's instinct perhaps, to protect even the dead. Not that it would accomplish much of anything, Emet-Selch suspected. Spiritual entities could target whoever they liked.

But Irhya's response to the ghost's question gets a period of silence, as though the spectre were mulling it over. But she wasn't there to cast judgement of that sort, to convince the miqo'te that her reason was a poor one, and that she'd be better off making some other choice of it.]

"Is there happiness in that? Select only difficulty, and you'll end up alone."

[Or only small judgement, at least, commentary; but it spares Irhya an attack. Emet-Selch only hums quietly to himself at their dialogue- a mistake, perhaps, as the ghost's attention returns to the Ascian, her next words clearly intended for him.]

"You'll never be happy either. You won't allow it."

[The voice echoes closer to Emet-Selch; a spectral figure fades in and out of sight, lingering at the corner of one's eye- before vanishing back into the reeds. But when her next question arrives, it's centered again on him. Given in a voice low and whispered, yet so clear, it's as though it were spoken directly into the mind. Into the heart. Perhaps it was, in a sense; why would a ghost be limited to mortal speech?]

"What do you want, over all else?"

[And Emet-Selch pauses, still a bit on edge, but surprised at this- the answer seemed straightforward enough to him, and no secret to his companion. A kinder question than the first. So he shrugs, sighing.]

To revive those of my past, and restore the world to the way it once was. What else would mean more than that?

[The response is both immediate and clear: a whipping up of wind, a terrible screeching cry, and more thin marks slicing open the Ascian's skin, tearing at the upper fabric of his clothes. Disagreement made manifest. Flinching back again, he hisses, words on his lips of a protest, that he'd offered her nothing but the truth once again, but the ghost continues first--]

"You know better than that. Don't you. Don't you. You've known it for all of those thousands of thousands of lives. And you've wasted them all...."

[Of course he knew. But it was unnerving to have it called back to him by some spectre who shouldn't know anything of him. If it weren't so personal he'd consider what magic might be involved, question whether she was a ghost at all and not a spell of reflection, dredging up whatever truths that lingered in the souls of whoever looked upon it. But it is personal, and he goes still, staring out at a ghost he can hardly see, and thinking on all those he would never see again.

--He wanted the original world back. For that disaster to have never occurred. For the sundering to never have happened. For all these years to be gone, and to live again in that time with those people, and to never have known any of this. But that was impossible. They had all known that from the start. And yet they had continued, one Rejoining after another, doing their best to forget--]

--Irhya. Are these pearls truly worth this to you?

[Low, quiet, directed towards her without looking at her, and ignoring the ghost entirely.]

[Truthfully? No, not really, but to back off now would be humiliating. They've already come all this way, and he wants to call it quits because she's forcing him to confront a painful truth... And yet, she didn't bargain for him to get hurt this badly over it.

She turns around when she hears the shrill sound of air slicing through his skin. Pressing herself more protectively over him, her voice is more of a growl this time, directed at the woman's specter.]

Hey. I told you to stop that.

[It's nothing Irhya herself hasn't ever told him before. The exact same, in fact; the very truths that prompted him to sever their Bond. And it still stings him just as badly. She can't help but feel her resolve start to sway.]

I'm not alone. I just... [A pause.] Is it really so strange I came to care about him, despite everything? If you've such distaste for him, then just tell us to piss off and we will... but I would rather you didn't rip him apart, if you please.

[Maybe it will calm her to hear a sincere statement amid the chaotic nonsense that has come out between the two of them so far. She can only hope. If they have to go, then so be it, but at least let it be without anger and resentment at their backs.]

[Whether the ghost is placated or not by Irhya's words is hard to say; the woman weaves in and out of transparency, in movements that could be agitated or restless- or perhaps simply waiting. She doesn't attack or scream again, at least, and the Ascian is left to touch these new scratches.

And while Irhya didn't answer his comment, everything that she did say does have him pause, distracted from his own unease. Even if it was her fault he'd been dragged out here in the first place, and it was an absurdity to care for him (and for someone like him) at all- she was still trying--

--And he remembers all over again that person in his past, who he'll never see again. All he had was this wreck, this woman this....]

To return to the past.

[He speaks without warning, and the agitation of the ghost stills; she'd been waiting for him, for this. To either answer properly, fail and be scratched again, or to leave.]

For everything to be undone, for none of this to have happened. To see everyone I've lost, and to never know that I'd ever lost them.

[An impossibility. And the next best thing... even if they'd succeeded, it would never have been the same. None of them would be the same. But of course they'd tried, because the alternative- that would be even worse, wouldn't it? To allow that atrocity of a broken world remain without at least trying to save it.]

"See. You can remember if you try."

[It's not a kind voice. But the answer seems to have been accepted.]

[She breathes out in relief now that he's finally cooperating, her shoulders dropping from where she'd unconsciously pinched them together... and says nothing, at a loss for words. This woman just seems to see right through them both, and especially Hades, who has so much more to carry. Irhya can't think of a way to please her, at least not in a way that doesn't require him to grit his teeth and say all the things he doesn't want to.

So, now what? She glances at him over her shoulder, looking a little bewildered.]

...Do you still want to leave?

[Whether his pride will prevent him from leaving the job he agreed to undone in the name of saving face is another matter, however.]

"Isn't that for me to ask...?"

[The ghost interjects, voice low and omnipresent, before Emet-Selch can even gather breath for his own reply. Apparently this is their next question, should they choose to accept it. Should they choose to persist in this endeavor. A question directed at both of them, this time: Did they want to leave? A subject intended less at their desire to remain at the pond, and more at the willingness to remain in the world. Not that the ghost clarifies; not that she'd be less inclined to attack should the answer be incorrect regardless.

The Ascian still frowns at the ghost for her interruption (or rather, at the place where he'd last seen the ghost, as she still flickered about in her insubstantial way). Leaving the job partway done didn't sit well with him, though, even if he didn't appreciate at all the lines of these questions, and even if he had no interest in the prize.

But he'd persisted through Calamity after Calamity; he could survive a few unpleasant truths if he had to.]

You should at least get what you came for.

[So no, his pride won't allow him to leave now that he'd started, and he addresses Irhya first, before letting out a collected breath. It was a somewhat easier question, even if the answer itself wasn't satisfactory.]

Yes and no. There are things here I care for, and returning to my star will avail my task not at all. The logical choice then would be to stay, to survive. Pretend to wait for some avenue to emerge that I might find a path to avert my future- yes, I could make a claim for that.

[And yet....]

--Even if my fate is to die there, give my life away for naught, how could I abandon them? Were I allowed the decision to leave or remain, I know not what side I would take. I suppose 'tis some consolation that I'll likely never face the choice.

[The ghost is silent, still; but no screaming or scratching is forthcoming, so a lengthy 'I don't know' is apparently the truth.]

Uh--

[It figures she'd set herself up for something like that. This girl really doesn't miss a beat.

At least he's in it for the long haul, painful or no. Which means it's Irhya's turn to answer, and this is a question that's far harder than the last one.]

If given the chance, I can't say with 100% certainty I would go. There are still things left unfinished here, and I just can't bring myself to only take care of me in cases like these. But the desire to be selfish... it is definitely there. Of course it is. I still miss being in a place where I mean something to someone.

[Her eyes travel to Hades guiltily. It feels like she's making a big deal out of a comparatively small problem, and one he's dealt with on a much grander scale. The Sundering left him without a home to return to, and no one to remember him; even if she knows consciously that that doesn't necessarily make her own feelings invalid, it still feels like a minor gripe in comparison.]

...Even knowing that your struggle is probably greater doesn't stop me from feeling that way, I'm afraid.

[It's the kind of answer, the kind of implied comparison that could go multiple ways in response. The first was, of course, offense. And some trace of that did remain; how dare she feel alone, when all he had known was solitude for more years than she could ever grasp. How could he ever really respect any mortal and their suffering? Even the familiarity of the feeling could be an insult, that he'd be forced to experience some scrap of empathy for someone he considered broken. Inferior.

All that arrogance is there, the inclination to find a reason for spite. It would be easy, but yet... in the end he only sighs, not even having to force back the impulse so much as just... not having the energy left, even for that. For all that he might have wanted to, he couldn't blame her. Couldn't even resent her, for all that it might be easier.

Because of course he understood. The pain of not being remembered, of seeing those familiar to you- of importance to you- only consider you as a stranger. Their attachments rested with someone else, and for all that you might try to form new relationships with them again... well. It would never be the same for either party. No one from their shared star knew Irhya as herself, and the Emet-Selch that she knew was someone else. Just as the hero he'd travelled with upon the First, and sought an understanding with... was another person.

In this way, they would always be on parallel paths, never quite meeting.]

Under our circumstances, there's no other way to feel, is there?

[If it's not quite commiseration, it's not offense either.

But it's a response that's likewise acceptable to the ghost, and while she's perhaps not quite capable of being mollified (after all, she has little stake or concern in the questions she asks, or the people she asks them of), the tension in the air remains steady. Deigning not to comment on either of their responses (they were true; that was all that mattered), she turns again to Emet-Selch for one more question. Another one clearly directed for him specifically.]

"Will you ever forgive the sun for abandoning you in your hour of need? For continuing to rise, born anew with each day, ignorant to the plight of those fallen stars that lie in its wake?"

[--And in an instant, his hackles are back up, and he goes deathly still, chilled- and clearly startled. Badly. Silent at first, it's less from a refusal to answer and more from a sense of utter unease. Why had he agreed to accompany Irhya out here? But he does reply, after some silence, though it's more to gather himself, rather than out of any requirement for thought.]

No. [No matter how low the tone, it pierces the stillness like something much sharper.] But I'll care for them regardless.

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