PSL; [YOU KNOW I LOST MY MIND]

[daemonized]

how high is too low?

[Noctis’ light had swallowed him whole.

Engulfed him like he were nothing, his power finally realized and strengthened by the chains of destiny. The King of Light wielding that selfsame weapon, as much of a pawn of the gods as he was, fulfilling his very purpose for existing. And it hurts, for a few harrying moments — it hurts, the light burrows into him and makes the Starscourge scream and he’s expelled from existence like a disease destroyed, like a plague banished from the land. The darkness fallen, his mind and spirit and his very right to exist erased. And then the pain is gone. Noctis’ light, too, wanes and becomes nothing, like him.

Then there is only nothing. And freedom — finally, after so many ages — is a release he cannot even truly appreciate.

But it doesn’t matter. He’s gone now.

* * *

Until he isn’t.

Until his body feels like it’s shuddered back into existence, so much feeling in every nerve ending. Air and dust filling his lungs. The cold press of a stone floor, dull pain across every limb, in every bone. It’s impossible, and for a moment that void of nothing is filled with fear — like a vacuum letting air in for the first time — and Ardyn jolts into consciousness. Gold eyes are wide in the shadows, fingers curling into fists, then opening, then closing, then opening again.

For those few awful moments, he is unflattering. Confused and disoriented and lost in the sensation of being alive and being without a darkness that crawls beneath his skin. It’s like gaining too much and losing a limb all at once. He might have released a desperate noise from the back of his throat, he might have had nails bite into his face as he felt the contours of his features. It’s all a great storm in his head, only slowly released.

It’s only later when the anger sets in. The frustration of his rightful end stolen from him, because this was not how it was supposed to go — he was not supposed to exist, he was not supposed to be alive. Was he alive? He felt off, strange, weak and unbalanced like the healer he used to be. The Starscourge — where was it?

Where was he?

He can’t see much of anything. It’s dark, though he swears a flicker of torchlight dances just outside the exit to this stone room of rectangular shapes and oddly purposeful placements. It reminds him of Angelgard, an unpleasant association. It reminds him of a prison, or of a tomb.

A minute more and he’s shuffling to his feet, heading towards that light. What an irony.]

Comments

[verflair]

[ By now, he is used to the notion of time moving however it wants between worlds. What was mere minutes for Ardyn was weeks, moons to X’rhun. The Miqo’te has had a long time alone with his thoughts as he traveled, time to recount every interaction and to let his regret settle in, bone deep, with the rest. ]

It does. I ought to be flattered that you found the time to think of me at all.

[ Was it those thoughts, fleeting bits of memory, that tugged Ardyn along the Lifestream only to have him wash up in the middle of Ala Mhigo? He has no idea, and he doubts he ever will. Ardyn certainly has no desire to pursue that mystery, and if X’rhun were honest, he doesn’t really, either. ]

If you were to give some small thought to your future in Eorzea, are welcome to stay with me, you know.

[daemonized]

[He makes a noise, a little ‘mm’ from the back of his throat. It would pair perfectly with a dismissive flick of a wrist if Ardyn felt the need to bother. Amber eyes gaze across the table at his friend, steady and questioning.]

Am I? [Not an offer that surprises him, really, given how generous X’rhun often is.]

And where is it that you stay, exactly? What do you do on this star? The same as before, wandering about and lending a helping hand to those who need it? If that is the case, then may I remind you of the phrase, ‘Been there, done that’?

[verflair]

[ X’rhun gazes back, a bevy of questions kept behind his own eyes. More than anything, he wants to know what this means for them, where they stand with each other. It’s selfish, he tells himself, to heap his feelings onto the other man when he’s but freshly arrived, awakened from what should have been his final sleep.

It's selfish to want to know if, without the chains of fate tightening around him, Ardyn might find room in his heart for X’rhun.

He sighs, ears drawing back and gaze flitting away for a moment ].

You’ve the right of it. I resumed my pilgrimage after returning home – it seemed only natural to pick up where I left off, after all.

I don’t suppose the promise of my company would be enough to persuade you to take to the road again?

[daemonized]

[It should not be. He should not care. For he knows that seeking the company of X'rhun in this strange land would bring up considerations and damnable feelings about what they had discussed — heatedly, at times — back in that dreadful city named New Amsterdam. He does not speak on it, but they both know.

Ardyn does not know if he seeks that connection again; or rather, if he should seek it. If he wants anything at all, other than just to rest. Globetrotting sounds awful to his ears in this moment, knowing that body and mind have been thoroughly disappointed with one expectation, only to be granted another.

It would be unfair to reply now, to both himself and his friend.

And yet.]

You would not drag me about by the arm, expecting me to aid in your kind generosities, would you?

[verflair]

[ Ardyn would be well-within his rights to deny him, and there is a part of him that frankly expects it. His friend has been through much. Lifetimes and lifetimes or sorrow and anger and bitterness, disappointment upon disappointment, to say nothing of this latest – yet another lifetime where there should have been rest.

He doesn’t truly know if his mere presence is enough to soothe that ache.

What he gets is not a no, but a consideration. It surprises him, an ear flicking curiously in Ardyn’s direction while that treacherous hope begins to rise in his chest. His answer, however, comes easily enough. ]

When last I checked, you had not sworn the Duelist’s oath. I ask only for your company, not your assistance.

[daemonized]

[It should be reassurance to know that there will be no expectation. No obligation to force himself into that old life of helpfulness when he knows he won’t fit the mould any longer; the shape of his heart and mind are all wrong now, twisted by time, cruelty, and circumstance.

It should be reassuring, yes. But knowing that he will have to watch, all the same, while X’rhun travels this world, doing work that harkens back to his days as a healer, still sits wrong in his stomach. Memory can be just as unsettling as experience, and he can’t turn his eyes away towards distraction when the other man will be so keen to extend his generosity to all those around him.

But it is still a... better reply than the alternative, and Ardyn lets a moment of silence linger, weighted, before he leans forward with his elbows pressed to the table.]

Acceptable, then, I suppose. I shall hold you to it, you know; even the barest whisper of wanting me help with your altruistic— [A frown, a waggle of fingers.] —work, and I might go flying away, like a Zu seeking to block out the sun.

[A fitting metaphor!]

[verflair]

[ X’rhun waits with what one would assume to be quiet patience, but there is an anxiousness that settles under his skin, winding his nerves tighter with every moment that passes without reply. It shouldn’t matter, he tells himself. Ardyn is free to do as he wishes, and perhaps X’rhun is selfish for wanting to have both his pilgrimage and Ardyn’s company.

Perhaps it is selfish to force Ardyn to watch X’rhun live a pale imitation of his own, long-abandoned life.

Acceptable, says Ardyn at last, and at once the strings of quiet tension are cut. X’rhun breathes out a small laugh, something that sounds pleased and a bit too relieved for his liking, but there’s naught he can do to stop it. ]

Have some faith in me, my friend. I’d not be so foolish as to scare you away.

[ Not after finally finding him again. ]

Now— [ a vague motion with his fork, the metal catching the lamplight of the room. ] Let us finish supper ere it gets cold. Tomorrow, I shall show you the city, and from there… well, we shall see where the road takes us.