isleofavalon | [OPEN] Another Warrior of Light? Didn't we spray for those?

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final fantasy xiv: jophrey lethe

[OPEN] Another Warrior of Light? Didn't we spray for those?

🧙 WHO: Jophrey and YOU
⚔️️ WHAT: Arrivals, requests and learning magic
🕒 WHEN: Early to mid-February
🗺️ WHERE: Various
⚠️ WARNINGS: Description of burns in comments

((Prose and brackets are both fine, I'll match your format!))

1: Arrival

"MMMAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOUUUUU!"

"Sssh, sssh, come on darling, I know you're wet--"

"MMMAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOUUUUU!!!"

"I'm trying to help, if you could just stop squirmi--"

"MMMAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOUUUUU!!!"

The source of this ungodly racket appears to be near the White Cliffs staircase, where an oddly-dressed gray feline curls up beneath the cloak of an absolutely mortified hyur. Both of them are still quite damp from their arrival, but it seems that one of the pair is handling their adversity a bit better than the other.

"Sorry, sorry..." the man mumbles, red-faced under the stares of passersby as he tries to comfort his wailing bundle of...joy? Sure, we'll go with that. "'Twould seem the poor thing's had a bit of a fright." He gives a weak, sheepish chuckle. "I'm...sure he'll calm down soon."

2: A Can of Sprite

This is definitely a good news, bad news, sort of situation. Certainly the job itself went without a hitch; the bottle of glittery powder held in one white-knuckled hand is evidence of that. But in the process, things appear to have gone somewhat awry. The white-haired man staggers as if drunk his feet unable to decide which way to go, his eyes wide and trying to take in everything around him at once. He sees himself leaving the clearing in a hundred different directions, or not leaving at all, or being swallowed by the earth, or crushed by an errant falling star.

"Oh Twelve stop...I can't..."

The pain behind his eyes only gets worse with the addition of another person to the scene...and another...and another...and another... His eyes are wild with panic as he staggers back. "Stop! Stop!" he cries out again. Furrows appear in the ground at his feet and plants flatten all around him as he lashes out telekenetically, blinded by the sensory overload. "Get away from me! There's too many of you!"

3: Stand Together or Fail Apart

The sounds that come from Jophrey's tent wouldn't be out of place in any forest, but any Eorzean would recognize the sound of birdsong from the Shroud. The mage stops his nervous pacing as the ambient sound changes to adjust to the new arrival and turns to face the door. Clearly the relaxation part of this exercise is one that he has yet to master.

"I don't suppose you've done this before?" he asks, taking a seat and gesturing to the cushion opposite him.

From the folds of his cloak, the sound of a tiny creature snoring can be heard. "Cid! Cid, wake up. We have a visitor."

4: Wildcard

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Dust threw up one arm, warding the telekinetic force away from his face as best he could. Luckily it was flailing rather than a deliberate attack, so he could put one foot back and brace against it rather than go flying.

"What -- are you doing?!" Not that he expected a coherent response, but sometimes you just had to shout the obvious question. More to the point, what the heck was he going to do about it?

Some of the chaos in his field of vision clears as probability streams merge and collapse, and he's able to collect enough of himself to at least focus in the other's general direction. A reply comes even before Dust has finished asking the question, though it's decidedly...less than helpful. "I'm...what? I was just..." He whirls around mid-sentence, clapping his hands to his ears. "Stop talking, godsdammit!" he snarls at the completely empty clearing behind him.

Oh, this wasn't good. Dust hesitated -- should he talk, and help the man focus, or stay quiet since his speech might have made things worse?

Well. Not knowing anything about which was the better choice, Dust's nature was to act. "Shut your eyes. Don't move. And focus on my voice."

The man gave a tremulous nod and obeyed, squeezing his eyes tightly closed and lowering himself into a sitting position. And once again the response came before Dust had a chance to finish the command. With his eyes shutting out the chaos in front of him he could focus on one thing at a time.

Yes./Very well./Okay./All right./Fine./Of course...
"...All right."

That's when it hit him. The first crowd of voices was his own; a backwards echo telling him what to say. And what he might say.

Then there was the second chorus. It was...trying to help?

I think/bet/assume the sprites/pixies/fairies/little shits did something to/tried to kill/played a joke on/tricked me.
"I think the sprites did something to me," he managed, hugging himself. His hands left smears of red powder on his robes.

Okay. They seemed to be making progress. At the very least, they were communicating without freakouts involved, and that went a long way towards solving the problem.

"Can you come over here? It's a clear area, enough that nothing is too close to be causing that." First things first, check and make sure it isn't proximity to anything. Helping out will do no good if Dust himself got affected in the same way.

This time there's a long pause before the other man replies. He tilts his head to one side and frowns, concentrating on dragging some order out of this chaos. He was no stranger to visions, but never had the Echo shown him anything like this. Usually it was content to show him only one thing at a time.

There. One voice comes later than the others, more distinct. "I'll...try," he finally says, getting unsteadily back on his feet. He risks cracking open an eye, then immediately drops his gaze to the ground, looking ill. But the unchanging ground is enough to anchor him enough to approach what he suspected was the one real voice.

"This is...going to sound daft but...are you...there?" he says without looking up. The hand he reaches out and the sleeve of his robe are dusted with a fine, reddish powder. Pollen, perhaps?

"Yeah. I'm here." Okay. They'd gotten him away, but the effects still remained. Which probably meant it was the stuff still left on him that was plaguing him...

Assuming he hadn't just suffered straight-up neurological damage. But so far, Avalon hadn't been so harsh and unforgiving.

"I'm going to try something. Keep your eyes shut and hold on." Dust took a few steps back. "I'm not going far -- here it comes, okay?"

"...Good." Again that pause as he listened to Dust's pre-echos. "At least I know I haven't gone...completely mad." He follows the sound of Dust's voice without opening his eyes, and nods. The warning isn't even fully out of his mouth before Jophrey braces for whatever happens next.

Not opening his eyes was good. Dust hadn't thought to specify keeping them closed. Actually, mouth would be good too...

But here goes. Dust lifted a hand and focused. The magic took a moment to gather, but then air shot out from his palm in a swift wind. His control wasn't the best, but Dust did everything in his power to wrap it around Jophrey and blow all that pollen off.

[ When the tent's flaps open, it brings a different birdsong into the mix, along with the faint gurgle of running water over rock, the rustle of leaves and branches in the wind, the warmth of sandalwood and start anise incense.

Karma doesn't immediately sit when he steps inside, instead opting to stand right at the entrance and survey the interior first, a glance at Jophrey- a longer look he gives Cid- before going ahead and flopping down on the other cushion, legs stretched out in front of him in a way that suggests comfort but requests space. ]

Sure have! It's a bit of a process, though. Your cat might as well sleep through it.

[ Jophrey takes a moment to appreciate the changes Karma brings to the tent, breathing in the new incense with a smile. ]

Ah, good! Good! I've only just arrived myself so I'm afraid I'm new to all of this, not just...

[ He gestures vaguely at their surroundings.

Cid, meanwhile, has already returned to the improvised bed he's made in the hood of Jophrey's robes with a cheery trill, and before long the snores resume. Jophrey laughs softly. ]

As you can see, Cid's a helper.

My name is Jophrey, by the by. And who might you be, lad?

Edited 2021-02-16 04:09 (UTC)

Some helper.

[ He scoffs, though, with a bit of a laugh, because a snoozing cat can set up a nice atmosphere or whatever. ]

The name's Karma. What sorta place did you come from, gramps? Is it anything like this place at all?

[ White hair = old. You call him lad, you're getting called gramps in return. ]

[ Jophrey acknowledges the "gramps" with a small smile. He's clearly far from offended; he's gotten used to being the oldest one in the room at any given time. ]

'Tis not so different from my home, though 'twould seem that this place uses technology where we use magic.

[ A chuckle. ]

...Magic that is much different from the kind practiced here. I'm still in the process of figuring it all out.

[ Jophrey's world seems to be on the opposite end of the spectrum as Karma's, he thinks, when everything he's used to is science and technology that, to the uneducated mind, seems almost like magic in its capabilities. Cell phones! internet!! wild stuff. ]

Magic or technology, it doesn't need to be fully understood anyways. What matters more is knowing how to use it. So what have you figured out of yours?

That's true! But I'm still something of an amateur at using it too. 'Tis more than a little bit humbling to an old mage like me.

[ He gives a self-conscious shrug, then gestures toward the incense burner in front of them. It rises into the air, gives a twirl and tips slightly towards Karma in a sort of bow, and returns to the table with a small thud. ]

"Kinetic magic", or so I'm told. We've naught like it in my world.

[ "An amateur," he says, as he casually moves things with his mind...

Karma picks the incense burner back up, physically, with his own hand, twirling it in the air and catching it, mulling over what he's able to glean from the contact—- ]

Ceramic. Bought at a second hand shop and had passed through three owners since it was first made. The pattern on the side isn't supposed to be there, but the person who made it accidentally dropped it and had to cover it up.

[ He sets it back on the table. Very interesting! Nothing useful. ]

You knew that just from holding it?

[ Useful or not, the mage seems genuinely impressed. He picks it up off the table himself, this time with his hands, peering at the the pattern Karma mentioned. ]

Ah! You're right! See, there's the crack under the paint! By Thal, you would make a mint as an appraiser in Ul'dah.

[ He gives a delighted grin. ]

Have you learned to do aught else?

[ He could probably work some sort of business as an appraiser in this place, but that isn't the work Karma is interested in. Learning about things just by touching them feels like a shortcut that doesn't sit quite right with Karma, but heck if he isn't going to practice and take advantage of it anyways, like the rest of his magic's capability that he doesn't want to lean too heavily on, but would be a fool not to engage in at all.

Even if it's just for fun.

Even if, when he reaches out to Jophrey's mind with his cognitive magic and plants a suggestion there, it's something silly like ]

Hop on one foot while sticking your tongue out and blowing a raspberry.

The ambient sound becomes a slow crashing of waves against the shoreline. Emet-Selch brings himself up short upon seeing who it is in the tent, eyes widening in disbelief.

"You... What are you doing here?" he asks, almost demands in his tone.

"I...could ask you the same question."

His expression is a mix of surprise and wariness, his voice uncertain. The aforementioned Cid, seemingly oblivious to the sudden tension in the air, slides out of the hood of Jophrey's robes and into his lap, making a great show of stretching and yawning. The silence stretches on uncomfortably long before he speaks again.

"You seem to be doing erm...better...than when last we spoke." Is that a trace of relief in his voice? Just the tiniest bit?

He glowers at Jophrey for the question and then abruptly turns to leave...only to find that the door to the tent has rolled shut and will not budge. He's stuck in here with the mage.

Jaw clenching, he turns back around and settles stiffly on the floor opposite Jophrey, arms crossed, back straight, expression guarded.

"I am still not dead, if that's what you mean," he says crisply, scowling.

"No, that's not what I mean!" he protests, meeting Emet's scowl with one of his own. "I don't...that's not..." he sighs and rubs his face with his hands, collecting his thoughts and suppressing his temper. "You remember being untempered, do you not?"

Because if he's addressing Emet-Selch from a different universe than the ones he knows, he's going to have a lot of explaining to do.

His eyes travel to the sealed door in an effort to avoid the ascian's gaze, and his brow furrows in concern. "Did...did we just get locked in here?"

Edited 2021-02-19 05:26 (UTC)

"Yes."

The ambient noise shifts subtly to include the calls of shorebirds. Something akin to the coastline of La Noscea. It's a sound Emet-Selch struggles to hate considering the memories it elicits.

"And I could hardly forget that," he continues bitterly. "A pain such as that leaves its mark on the soul. Felih is fortunate he didn't tear me apart with what he did."

"I know." Jophrey looks Emet-selch steadily in the eyes, expressionless. Without looking away, he loosens the collar of his robe and opens it just enough to expose his breastbone, and the scar that covers it. The symbol that once anchored the mage to the physical plane of Duplicity is now a brand on his chest, only recently healed.

"Fortunate for both of us, 'twould seem."

Edited 2021-02-19 08:08 (UTC)

His gaze drops to the burn mark. This is...the first time he's seen it. Merely looking it over is enough to imagine how much it would have hurt, although Emet-Selch has never personally felt the sting of a brand before.

He knows the smell though. Burnt skin. Agonised cries. Cruel laughter.

He drags his gaze back up to Jophrey's face. "Your body seems stable at least. Have you had any ill effects since then?"

"No," he says, his expression softening. He knew the pain of a wounded soul all too well; no physical pain would ever come close to that, and the pain that had come to him through their bond was terribly, terribly familiar. His eyes turn to the incense burner in front of him, following the smoke as it rises to the ceiling.

"I would guess the same magic that brought me here and healed my wounds also severed whatever remained of my connection to the Abyss." He closes his robes, hiding the scar once more. "Did it...heal you as well?" Powerful magic indeed, if so.

He sniffs derisively. "I wouldn't know. I lost that sense along with my other sight when I arrived here."

Even as a Garlean he had never felt so...hollow. Like a missing limb, like a missing organ, the lost sense of aether feels like it ought to be there but slips out of his grasp when he reaches for it.

"I am nothing here," he mutters, glaring at the array of drinks and other supposedly soothing things between them. "Merely an immortal soul trapped in a mortal vessel. A fitting punishment."

"Everyone is an immortal soul trapped in a mortal vessel," he points out. "You of all people should know that death is not the end even for us mere mortals. We just...don't remember what comes before when we come back." He sighs. "That's not a punishment, Hades, that's what life is."

He broods silently on those words. He is loathe to admit it aloud, recalling the cave and the bodies piled high. The souls of his people, bound to forget and repeat their violent lives over and over; and he, ushering many of those on before their time hoping that the next rejoining will bring back their memories of the past.

His sins will remain with him unto death.

"Then what will it take to allow me to forget?" he whispers harshly, fingers digging tightly into his arms.

"...I don't know."

Perhaps that was Hades' punishment: To never be allowed to forget the atrocities he committed as Emet-Selch, not even in death. Gods knew it was painful just to remember the sins of a single human lifetime. For someone as long-lived as the Ancients...

A rustle of canvas interrupts his train of thought, and he glances over the other's shoulder, raising his eyebrows. A breeze now wafts in through the gaps in the now-unsealed door.

"Well. 'Twould seem our imprisonment is at an end. I was...worried there would be...uh...more demanded of us." Someone hasn't quite recovered from Duplicity.

He sniffs disdainfully, but he doesn't make any move to stand just yet. It feels like he's only just sat down.

"Aren't you also here to learn of that cooperative magic? This city may not demand such vulgar rituals of us but I'd rather take you than any stranger out there."

Perhaps Jophrey is right. His long memory is both a curse and blessing. He can remember the halcyon days of his people, the terrible aftermath of Hydaelyn's sundering, and the even worse reality of the genocide he has inflicted upon successive generations. It's enough to make any lesser man seek death a thousand times over.

If only he hadn't promised not to do just that.

Though she's only just recently arrived herself, Alisaie takes the time every day to venture down to the lake in hopes of finding.. someone. Anyone. Her brother, Urianger, her parents, the Scions - yet unfortunately, she has come up empty handed. It's only been a handful of days, she should try to find her patience, but it's difficult when your world is apparently teetering on the brink of destruction and you cannot find those most dear to you. She's trying very hard not to tear her hair out over it.

They'll show up, in time. They must.

Anyroad, that sure is a noise. Alisaie hisses, touching her too-keen ears while she searches out the sound.

"Is that - a gaelicat?"

"Oh aye."

The gaelicat, mercifully, stops yowling when he senses Alisae's approach, and turns towards her with the biggest, cutest eyes he can manages. His ears droop and he lets out a pitiful meow. Look at this poor, abused (slightly inconvenienced), soaking wet (slightly damp) kitty. Clearly he is in desperate need of comfort. And treats. Lots of treats.

It's only now that the bloody thing is sitting still that Jophrey looks up. "Sorry about that lass he--Alisae?" His eyes light up like a Starlight tree. "Alisae! 'Tis wonderful to see you again! I've missed you." It doesn't seem to occur to him that he might not be the Warrior of Light she's familiar with.

Her shock is quite clear. Alisaie's brows fly high, and she hesitates in surprise for a moment, looking him up and down from crown to toe and back up again. He looks familiar in the sense that he certainly looks as if he would be at home in Eorzea, but other than that.. she is not sure she has ever seen this man.

"Um - " she starts, before tilting her head. "I'm sorry, I.. have we met?"

He knows her name, so it stands to reason that she should recognize him, but nothing comes to mind. One would not simply.. assume that there are like, a million Warriors of Light, after all.

Yeah, about that.

The man flushes. "...ah, apparently not. My apologies." He gives a slight bow, or at least as much of one as a man can give while holding an unhappy winged feline. "My name is Jophrey Lethe. I am from...I believe I heard it called an 'alternate timeline'?"

He offers a fleeting, sheepish grin. "In my...hm...version of Eorzea, I was the lucky fellow that became the Warrior of Light." He pauses briefly, and the grin reappears. "...Or possibly the unlucky fellow. I can never decide."

Hang on a second. Alisaie needs a moment to process that.

Other worlds, sure, she can level with that, she'd experienced it personally, back home. Alternate timelines..? Well, she supposes she's encountered that idea as well, in the very real form of the Crystal Exarch, even if Alisaie herself never made contact with another timeline. Yet even in that timeline, the people were the same, the faces, the names.. only the choices made for deviations.

Could another choice, somewhere, in some way, in some place, have made of him a Warrior of Light so different from the one she has known? She cannot help but feel naturally suspicious, but what reason would he have to tell such a bold lie? And clearly.. he recognizes her face, her name. What an odd feeling.

".. beg pardon? So you.. you know me?"

[ After her rude arrival last month, Ryne's volunteered to help the new arrivals once they started to appear. She wants to try to provide a warm welcome to combat the cold weather, offering towels and blankets to those emerging from the lake.

The loud yelling of the gaelicat easily catches her attention, and she starts to hurry over with supplies to help. But... when she sees who the feline belongs to- ]

Jophery...?

[ There's a tight feeling in her throat as tears prick her eyes. It hasn't been that long since she last saw him, truthfully, but she wasn't sure when she would again... ]

Wha...?

[ Having someone recognize him is the absolute last thing he expects in this strange world, and when he sees who it is... ]

Ryne! Oh by the Twelve's mercy, it is you!

[ He very nearly runs to her, smiling from ear to ear, and holds his free arm out for a hug. He's not crying. Honest. Really. There's a lot of dust here. By the lake. Sniff. ]

You have no idea how much I've missed you, lass.

[ Ryne takes in a sharp breath when she sees him practically running for her, and those tears finally spill over. ]

Jophery!

[ She throws her arms around him, holding him tightly. She sniffles into his chest as she tries to calm down. ]

I-I'm sorry... I just... I didn't know when I'd see you again! I can't believe you're here!

The scene of Jophrey trying and failing to console his poor feline friend earns a sympathetic if amused smile from this particular stranger... who is, perhaps, not as much of a stranger than he himself would assume. Though he does not wear a robe here, the shape of the white mask hiding his features is familiar to anyone who's been to Emet-Selch's illusion of Amaurot.

"'Tis quite a rough arrival, is it not? Mine own familiar was not happy, either."

With a chuckle, the tall man gestures to the firebird perching on his shoulder. Have you ever fallen into water with a fire chicken right next to you? Not very fun.

"But mayhap he may be able to help you and your companion dry off sooner?.."

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[OPEN] Another Warrior of Light? Didn't we spray for those?

Sprite (which Grant Hill drinks)

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CW: Descriptions of burns

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arrival!

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1; you know, like nya