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

[gutteringlight]

🧙 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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Comments

[emet_sulk]

"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."

CW: Descriptions of burns

[gutteringlight]

"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."

[emet_sulk]

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?"

[gutteringlight]

"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.

[emet_sulk]

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."

[gutteringlight]

"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."

[emet_sulk]

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.

[gutteringlight]

"...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.

[emet_sulk]

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.