morally dubious dirt man ๐ weir dredger (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fossick) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
finalflight2023-06-26 11:54 am
fossick) wrote in finalflight2023-06-26 11:54 amEntry tags:
fossick) wrote in finalflight2023-06-26 11:54 am
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[She repeats his words and leans back in her seat.]
... But I can take a guess. He wanted something in return for saving your life, didn't he?
[The supernatural operated like that a majority of the time; if something inhuman does you a favor, you're more than obligated to return it back. It is rarely a one-way transaction.]
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For saving my life, he put me in a debt.
He would ask of me one favor in the future, and I could not refuse it. And he granted me these strange abilities, too, in preparation for it.
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[Each thread is being revealed and Lucinda keeps track of all of them in her head. Weir, Turner's Vale, the Pit, the Polymath, a world before, and the world after that they now sit in.
She really did just stumble her way into this, didn't she?]
And if it has, I'm surprised it's yet to leave you alone.
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He laughs again, so dry. If only it were so easy to get rid of this terrible god in his head.]
This is something of a permanent partnership, Iโm afraid. Yet he asks nothing more of me. His favor has been tended to.
[Even if he knows the Polymath is hoping for something that Weir can provide it, but thereโs no need to go into that now.
But what was that favor? Weir steps a little closer, his arms still crossed.]
Tell me, in your world, do you have powerful artifacts? Or entities, even, that might change the world on a whim?
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We do. There are artifacts or other objects that are known as the stuff of fairytales or legends by those unaware of the reality of magic. If found, it is relinquished to magickind for safekeeping.
[Not to say that the Esper Collective doesn't keep an artifact of interest or two for their own uses but, by and large, it is much safer for a witch to handle such items.]
As for the entities... Well, the ones who want to change the world on the whim are the ones both witches and espers try to keep out. For the former, that is their function and reason for existence.
[Witch King says hi]
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And no such thing has ever happened? The world has never been changed, or these artifacts never used?
[He'll get around to answering her question, too, but it's interesting to glean context from another world first. Plus it sets up where he's going -- if she can't see it already.]
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Part of my job within the Collective is to ensure such changes do not occur on the scale of which the world becomes unrecognizable. I've rarely encountered such large-scale threats or anyone with the ambition to do so.
[The medium pauses making a consideration and then shrugs.]
I guess if it has happened, it may very well be I would not be aware of it. Ignorance is bliss and all that. Still, I would find it unlikely due to the specific entity that the witches answer to.
And as for the usage of artifacts... Well, that's on a case-by-case basis. That's not a topic I specialize in. But it circles back to magickind and how much they're able to get away with before they face the consequences of their actions.
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We have nothing of the sort here. The artifacts are unearthed from the depths and brought to the capital. There, they are in the hands of magic-users who want to utilize them, not keep them contained and safe.
[Dry, unimpressed.]
The favor I spoke to you about... years later, and the Polymath volunteered me for a ritual overseen by yet one more thing called a "god". A huge, mechanical, spherical thing with sentience all on its own.
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[It would be interesting, she thinks, to grow up in a world where having powers isn't unheard of, but it didn't mean you couldn't be dealt a bad hand in life.
The mention of the ritual is definitely important.]
We have a joking term for that: "Volun-told."
[See, this is why she prefers to just do more down-to-earth work, the more supernatural it gets, the more annoying the objects of interest become. Human problems, human solutions (usually).]
If it's a ritual, I suppose there were more than a few working parts that were supposed to make it work?
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It was a ritual not for our sakes. From what I understand, it was little more than entertainment for that god, stealing away mortals and making them fight to the death until one remained.
[A DEATH GAME, FUN]
I was transported into another place that was far removed from this... world, I think. There were four others there, too, who had willingly volunteered as participants. Fools thought that they might have a chance at that god's heart, which was indeed one of the relics I spoke of. A potent, reality-warping object that might change the world if one desires it strongly enough.
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... And? Did you manage to kill the other participants?
[I mean, that seems to be the logical conclusion considering he's still here.]
... Flora and Feather are listening with rapt attention.
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[Sarcasm again. His smile tilts, which might not bode well, but in actuality, no. He didn't kill them.]
That would make the most sense, as I still stand here today. But no, I suppose morality got in the way. That or they realized that they had a better chance to rip the Heart out of that machine-god by working together rather than fighting for survival and doing it alone.
[He has to skip over a lot of logistics here, painting them in broad strokes.]
It required magic. A portal. The details are messy.
[He does not tell her, much to the brain-god's chagrin.]
We killed it. We traversed inside its corpse, and the Heart was ours for the taking, but... [Here, he looks at her hard and steady.] The Polymath did not want to share. I did not want to share.
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How did you take the Heart from everyone Weir? [Her voice is quiet.]
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Is that all you have to say?
[Oh, he feels as though her judgement is already there, lingering in her eyes. He can sense her spirits stirring beneath her skin; surely they have their own opinions.]
It's easy to steal anything away when you might control both mind and body. One woman was a sorceress. Another was a bloody Needle -- an assassin. It was simple. And I left them behind in that god's corpse.
I didn't kill them, for what that's worth.
[is that worth anything, really]
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[Lucinda neither looks disgusted nor angry. Judgmental, yes. But it all makes sense now, perhaps at least 70% of it. Everything Weir has explained to her tracks with what kind of person he is. He's willing to do anything to make sure he alone benefits.
Now how to explain the changes?]
And is that how the world changed? You activated this Heart?
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He doesn't so much as flinch at her look, though admittedly it isn't as cutting as he thought it would be. Though he wonders how she might handle this truth after the fact; will she stay here? Or does the fact that he practically wiped clean an old world to make room for a new one still register as too distant to be relevant to a woman who hails from another dimension?]
Aye. The Polymath covets knowledge in all forms. [He can't help but wonder if that's why it possesses a brain-like shape.] And what better knowledge is there to hoard but that belonging to an entire world? So, yes, I activated the Heart, and I wished for a new world, with all the knowledge, experiences, and memories of the people from the old one to be ushered into the Polymath's consciousness. In that way, they live on. And I fulfilled his favor.
Beyond that? I requested only a remade world with no interest in proper, powerful magic. No interest in the Pit. And that life in this town would be nothing short of easy, if I were to live out the rest of my days here.
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[The weight of Weir's actions is unfamiliar, but it's something akin to the sound of rolling thunder in the distance. And for a moment, Lucinda is not sure how to feel. The world before is not something she knew anything about or could mourn but no doubt what Weir Dredger did was awful, driven by pure selfishness. This was the type of devastating change that the Collective would absolutely stand against. And she can imagine being told to take drastic action for the greater good.
But this is not her world.
There's no Esper Collective to impose their will and whose judgment she could follow.
She's just one medium with three spirit familiars, all alone in this idyllic Vale with an uncertain beyond.
Lucinda's been quiet, perhaps for too long. But slowly and steadily she stands up and smooths out the sleeves of her tunic. And her question may not be what Weir would expect.]
Do you have any candles I can use?
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And when she does speak, it's indeed not a question he expected. His own response is curt.]
For what? [Tartly:] Going to light a vigil for those lost?
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If she's surprised that Weir caught on quickly, she doesn't show it. She shrugs at him.]
Unless you've beaten me to the punch?
[She doubts it; from the way, he spoke about dredging and her firsthand experience with just one monster from the Pit, there's very little he would mourn.]
... I'm a medium, first and foremost. [Her voice is soft and reverent as she casts her gaze towards the darkness outside.]
Acknowledging the lost ones is the least I can do.
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It's not as though they suffer. It's simply as though they never... were.]
Fine. I won't stop you if that's what you want.
[He is a Ye Olde, living in a Ye Olde town. He has plenty of candles, and no doubt she'd have noticed several lit in the darker hours of the evening, but if she wants something fresh, he can offer it.
But-]
Is that all you have to say, then? You want to ask for candles?
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... Are you happy, Weir?
[Was it all, worth it, she wonders?
When she was confined, she had wished for her parents, their maids, and all the people who came to her to just... Be gone. Dead, but not in a way where their shadows would haunt her.
That artifact that changed this world, the Heart, would have sorely tempted her back then, to erase everything and start over, including herself. She wasn't needed and didn't want to be needed if it meant the living and the dead would cling to her until she felt nothing of herself any longer.
Lucinda takes one step closer to Weir and stops there.]
And when I'm gone, will you be happier?
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Surely he does not need to answer this question. Surely she is not so blind as to not observe his mannerisms in this town, how he treats people, how selfish he is, his somewhat distant calculating manner when considering what actions to take.
However, this is not a subject in which he wants to unravel with her of all people. He has already told her the truth of what happened to this world, the truth of his real background, shown her his abilities (when he tried to murder her). What more does she need? The rest is unnecessary and, more importantly, it is none of her business.
He responds only to the last question and unkindly.]
I would be less inconvenienced. I told you that already, didn't I?
[He turns away from her, returning to his desk, putting away the last of his things for the evening.]
But I am going to help you find a way to return to your world, so that my life may return to normal, and I might wash my hands of this. Is that not what you want?
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I'll be taking some candles then.
[She recalls where they are and retrieves them herself. Three small white candles are cupped in her hand (she already has a lighter, one of the few items from her world on her person). Before leaving she covers the cake with a straw basket and as she slips on her cloak, Lucinda spares him a few more words.]
If you were the one who changed this world, I wonder why everyone in the Vale is so kind?
Surely, there was something that could have suited you more.
[But she leaves before letting him answer her question, slipping away quietly like a ghost.]
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He has nothing to say to her as she leaves.
Depending on when she returns (if she chooses to), the lodge will be quiet when she returns. Little more than the crackling sound of the fire blazing in its nearby hearth.]
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The flowers are arranged in a circle with the candles placed in the middle and then they are lit. She sits on her knees, closes her eyes, and presses her hands together in prayer.]
I'm sorry. I'm not the best person for this at all.
[Could you even pray for people who aren't part of reality anymore? It's been a while since she's done something akin to this. Ironically, Lucinda only occasionally takes up medium-centric work but on a much smaller scale. The Collective saw her more fitting as an enforcer these days.
And she was selfish too. The weight of people's desperation, the high of being reunited and then apart, pulls at the seams of her person and it threatens to bring her back to that place where she was at her weakest.
Maybe she wasn't as outraged by Weir's actions because of that similar self-centeredness within. Her hands squeeze even more tightly.]
If you're suffering I can only pray you aren't alone. If you're lost, I pray that this light can send you on your way.
And since you're not here at all, I'll hold onto that weight.
[The difference between her and Weir is though she struggles with regrets and what-ifs, she would not change her world if presented with the opportunity. It would mean that her new parents, River and his family, other espers, and most importantly of all, their Mother, would cease to be. Lucinda's burdens let her know that she is strong enough to move forward whether here, there, or when she finally passes on.
She pinches the flames of each candle, stands up, and heads back in. Weir, wherever he is, can hear some distant singing as she comes up on the path and to the door.]
Moon river
Wider than a mile...
[It goes on like that after she opens and closes the door behind her, takes off her cloak, and takes a chair to sit in front of the fire. Oddly enough, she's not going to sleep yet.]
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