voidtreckernet | Getting It Over With - Video

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Getting It Over With - Video - OTA (CW: Death mentions)

[Najaran sighed and with Gremlin's help figured out how to send a video message. Machines were still a little confusing to her.]

[A deep breath then she began speaking to where Gremlin's small scaly finger came into frame to point her to.]

"Leia and I already talked about it. But I figure a lot of you are gonna wanna let me know how upset you are that I didn't let the train evacuate me at the end of the last mission. That I tried to stand and fight those things. That I refused to run away again. Anyway, I'm probably going to be hungry a lot this month, so if you're going to yell at me, I'd rather just let everyone yell at me today and just get it over with, okay?"

[She hesitated, unsure, then shrugged.] "So yeah. I'll be in the Garden car if you want to come yell at me in person. Just please be careful not to hurt Woodfolk, they had nothing to do with it."

[Again that scaled hand came onto the screen to point out what she was supposed to do next.]

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"A searcher is..." she started this but suddenly realized that she doesn't know to explain it, really. "Searchers go to old places... the same kinds of places like treasure hunters, but they're more there to learn. They like treasure too, but won't ruin the history of a place to get a treasure... I guess that's the best way to put it. Like... Dum Dum was a treasure hunter and he didn't care who he killed or what he destroyed so long as he got rich..."

"Lady Najaran, he was infested...."

"I know, but Alta said he wasn't that different once h was infested, that he was always like that, just not as desperate. She said that the people who worked for him were always disposable to him and he already had a horrible reputation..."

"Ah... that is true."

Najaran shook her head a bit. "But Alta... she wanted treasure, but she gave everything to help protect and defend the forest. And she didn't take any treasure at all once she saw what Bisteam really was."

"Was she-- a legend gath'rer?" her companion eventually asks, an eyebrow raised in his curiosity. But not quite. She does remind Esteban of how Melchor would gather stories when he was small, passing through places and listening to the young and the old. Her methods, her research still seems just a little different, like she might have been searching for places rather than myths and legends.

Learning their culture, their way of life, maybe? Something that Esteban is always keen on learning himself-- it's no wonder he constantly badgers Najaran about her world, about her stories, about how her world understands itself. Siblings in their research topics, somehow; himself, Atla and Melchor. All interested in the same gem, but looking at it from different angles. It has him smile again, feeling some odd kinship with this person he's never met.

"Oh? What is Bistream?" he asks eagerly. There's several other questions on the tip of his tongue about the infested-- he seems to recall Dum Dum had... done something, but he can't recall what exactly. Only that Najaran had not seemed pleased or to trust him much, and had called him selfish.

All the while, he works through the dough, slowly spinning and squishing it, before he repeats the process, over and over again. It is only starting to lose some of its stickiness at this stage.

"I'm not sure. Lots of people think Searchers and Treasure Hunters are the same, but they're not. Seeing Alta at the same time as people like Dum Dum really made that show clearly!"

"Bisteam...?" She considered as she worked. "I didn't know anything when I left home, but Alta explained lots after she broke me out of my cell. She said it was an ancient hidden ruin that used to be a city. she wanted to explore the mysteries there. But when we actually got there..."

She stopped working on the soup as she let herself remember the feeling of Old Willow, after the fight.

"They weren't protecting the ruins of some ancient city full of treasures. Rather... All of Bisteam was actually Old Willow herself. An ancient tree full up with the spirits of all the other elves before Kigi. She used her power, and theirs, to keep the Dark Lord sealed up. That was what Bisteam really was. Not a treasure, but a huge magical seal on one of the four Elemental Lords..." A single tear ran down her face as she stared out past the train walls. "That was why Kigi was instructed to kill anyone who tried to invade Bisteam, to search for the Mistrals. She was supposed to find those who could destroy the Dark Lord once and for all..." she said softly. "We arrived when Kigi was the last, when she could barely stand against the corruption. I think... I think if she wasn't so desperate she would have tried to chase us off. But we were the chance she had..." she whispered.

The Woodfolk, who usually ignored Najaran - other than to glare at her - had inched closer as she spoke, as if they wanted to hear the story too.

Wow, he's really trying hard to construct some sort of timeline surrounding Najaran, but... she doesn't make it very easy does she? There's a smile that lifts the corners of his lips as he works, still not interrupting her through her tale, but the moment she mentions Old Willow, there is a familiar feeling of nostalgia that lingers under his skin.

It seems that they have similar tales in some fashion.

But her tale soon grows darker, edged with shadows that Esteban isn't quite sure how to fight, always getting back to that Dark Lord, the Mistrals, the quest thrust onto Najaran's shoulders. She's had companions too, but it's starting to make sense-- how much she pours of herself into this, into being a savior worthy of Kigi's trust, because of circumstances, because of the desperation, because of the hope that was laid on her shoulders.

He... gets it. He doesn't like it, far from, but he... gets it. Najaran is too young-- she shouldn't have to fight with these monsters. But there are times where the choice is no longer there, where the only options are to stand and fight, or do nothing and let the world crumble, and... Esteban gets it.

"... In my world, we've got what we call Naming Trees." He pauses, realizing that it might make more sense to her if he actually spoke the proper name, and corrects himself. "But elves call 'em Memoriam Trees." His tongue shifts into the familiar terms, even if he rarely uses elvish anymore. But it's ingrained in him, as much as Draconic is, and he'd never forget those two languages.

"Back when the gods walked 'long with their people, 'f an elf chose to die, they'd give their soul to a god-- usually Eriat, but there's been exceptions-- an' she'd unweave their spirit from their soul, an' settle the spirit inside a seed. The soul returns to the cycle, an' the spirit stays an' watches over their families an' friends, weavin' aethers into protections. Against drought, 'gainst fire, 'gainst wild animals." It's... not much. He just doesn't know how else to bring her spirits up.

"Maybe... Maybe Kigi is still around in your world. Her spirit planted with Old Willow?" He suggests, clumsily, trying to bring her a bit of cheer. It's awkward and half-blind-- he's suspecting Old Willow might not exist anymore either, if the Dark Lord was released, if the seals were broken. But he's still hoping that there might be some comfort, from his world to hers. A parallel that just might work.

"I know her spirit is still there... I spoke to her sister after but... why would an elf...choose to die?" she asked, confused. "And aren't spirits and souls the same thing...?"

Oh, so he's not so far off! There's relief wound in the half-elf's shoulders when Najaran agrees with his attempts, the corners of his mouth lifting gently. (Wait-- wasn't Kigi... the last of the elves? He really doesn't need to know right now.)

"'Cauuuuse they wouldn't die otherwise?" He's not quite sure what she's trying to ask here, to be honest. It's one of the rare process of his Elven heritage that he actually agrees with after all-- but then, immortals had always been a bit of a sore subject for him. Her next question is easier to answer.

"No? The spirit an' the soul?" It's strange to think that someone might not consider these as separate things? But then, the entire thing with immortals is that they're... not easy to separate. It's a warmer smile that pulls at his lips at this while he explains.

"The Bein's made up of three-- the Body, the Spirit an' the Soul. The Body's the physical self, the Soul's the core-- the center 'f who you are. An' the Spirit is grown 'round the Soul." Immortals are immortals, because these three are woven so tightly together.

"The soul's the part that cycles through the lives we've got. It's..." Oh, this is actually harder to explain than he actually expected. "It's what you are no matter what?" An example-- oh! "Like, my enthusiasm!" He perks up, glad to have found something easy to relate it to.

"No matter how many times I get r'born, I'll always be lookin' forward to the joys I c'n find!" Or at least, he hopes so.

He sincerely hopes so.

"But 'round that, there's the Spirit, of "Esteban". My name an' 'xperiences, an' mem'ries." Does that make sense now?

"The Soul r'turns to the cycle, but the spirit's allowed t' linger. Watchin' over loved ones an' tryin' to make their lives easier. That's why we've got Guardian Spirits!" Well. Why most people have them.

"But why would anyone want to die...?" She was so confused. "I mean if you die trying to do what is right, that's... I mean..." she actually flushed a bit, flustered, feeling like she had just walked into a trap.

And the rest of what he was trying to explain just confused her more, and that confusion was clear on her face. Sorry, Esteban, someone has never heard of reincarnation...

Unfortunately, Esteban isn't the best at picking unvoiced social cues. Her confusion is confusing him too, and there's a slight frown between his brows, but he's not sure how to address what she's confused about. And asking why someone would die--

The dough in his hands is easier to focus on, as he wraps his head around what she's asking. Esteban knows-- he knows why; has seen his grandfather simply say "enough" and wrap himself in rock and ice and dreams, never to awaken again. He knows why he will chose to himself. Many, many years from now, when there are too many wounds that he can't stand up from again.

"... Elves're Immortals." He mentions, lightly. Had he told her that? Had he even thought to start with that? "'f they don't chose to die, then they don't." He pauses for a bit, still weighing his words in his mind. He takes a breath.

"Immortal lives're cursed." He mentions finally, and winces a bit. It's not-- he knows that its a curse for him, but his father, his mom never seemed to mind it. It's a difference in perspective, really, but, 'Dians, this is complicated.

"The longer they live, the less 'f the world they see. It's why Immortal races 're the most selfish of them all. They stop seein' mortals as people, they can't change when the world changes 'round them, their lives get so small." He shakes his head. "So some of them choose t' die."

He shakes his head.

"But y' don't need t' worry 'bout it. I was tellin' you 'cause it seemed that Kigi was close with Old Willow, an'--" he trips a bit in his words, trying his best to frame it correctly. "-- an' I thought maybe she'd've gone with the tree an' kept watch over you." It's... he hopes it's a comfort he's offering. There's a lot of tangling lines in his thoughts after all, and they're a little too loud, a little too all-over-the-place for him to make sense of them all.

"A Guardian Spirit, for you." Oh! He kind of hadn't realized he was sort of thinking this would be the case. But it makes sense. With Kigi being an elf-- well. It would make sense in his world.

"If the Elves were immortal... they wouldn't have needed Mistrals though...." she was so confused.

"Uh..." There's a bit of a pause, Esteban's work abandoned as he glances at his friend, but he doesn't quite know what to say to that. And this all stemmed because--

"It's... just how it is in my world." He didn't mean to confuse her, and worse, her confusion is confusing him. Maybe he'd best step away from all that after all. He works the dough off his hands gently as he kneads the bread into a ball, before throwing a cloth over the bowl that contains it. He washes his hands in the basin of water they've brought, and dries them over the small firepit, distracted.

"Why... did the Elves need th' Mistrals?" He eventually asks, because this back and forth, even if a bit painful for his friend-- it can at least help him understand her. Understand what she went through. He'd tried to help with tales of his own world, but... it doesn't seem to have helped. So Esteban is going to try the next best thing and listen, and try to understand, and try to fix things as best he can.

"Because keeping the Dark Lord sealed was corrupting and devouring them. They were dying because the Dark Lord's strength was too much. If they were immortal than they could have held it off, maybe even defeated it themselves..."

"So the... Mistrals were s'pposed to defeat him?" there's a pause, a bright glance from the corner of his eyes as they narrow. "... Was it? Did you manage?"

He's not trying to be mean in his questions, it's just... if he doesn't ask, he might paint the wrong picture, or assume things that are out of order. And if he is asking too much-- he glances at the staff once more, certain that at the very least, Goligan would keep an eye out on her. Esteban is clumsy, and he knows it. But he still wants to help.

He reaches out to the vegetables that she is still working on, washing then peeling them, and between him, her, and her entire herd of cards, there's quite a lot to cut and peel and dice. It keeps the hands busy while they talk.

"Yeah... We were supposed to. And... um..." she sighed, somewhere between sad and sheepish, with a hint of frustration and anger. "We were fighting and trying to, but the whole thing became a mess. The Black Cepters showed up to claim the Dark Lord and DumDum's army, the ones who were still alive anyway turned to help us. We... We were still kind of loosing. Then Zenith showed up and made everything worse..."

... Is that just him, or is that pretty recent? Or recent-ish before Najaran boarded the train?

It's hard to tell what gives him that impression. The way her sentences were structured? Oh! Because she doesn't know the end of it? Or hasn't shared it, at least.

He pauses in his work, glancing at his young friend, before adding a soft "an' then what happened?" trying to get the full picture. He checks Goligan as well, just to see how the staff is faring-- while Najaran is more open on what she will say, Goligan has his share as well, and it was him who stopped Najaran when she was about to say too much. If he's prodding too far, he might get scolded for his nosiness.

... Well, it wouldn't be the first time, anyways.

Goligan was staying nearby, listening. Or sleeping with his eyes open. It could be hard to tell with him, sometimes.

"Um... well he kinda blew away the last of the seals on the Dark Lord and let him out. So... I made him help us fight the Dark Lord..."

She is really reluctant to talk about this. It shows in the stops-and-starts, the questions he constantly has to ask. Somehow, it feels like Najaran is not even sure of the ending herself. Or maybe she knows it, and-- worse-- she doesn't want to talk because worse things come, and--

If Tidus can be on the train, and be a dream--

If Romeo can be on the train, and--

His eyes widen as he takes in what her reluctance might mean. Might be for.

"Najaran-- did you die?" He asks, his voice caught in his throat. He slips languages without really meaning to, emotions tangling too close and the words out of his mouth before he can think to say them better. Dead Guardians in a ditch.

Dead Guardians in a ditch.

No-- not her!

It's-- he-- Not her? She's his friend, she's precious to him. How can he-- how can he protect her if she's already dead?

This one is harder to swallow. He's known Romeo; he's known people that have died and are on the train but it's different because Najaran is his friend, she's part of his hoard and-- and-- has he already lost her?

He always loses them. He always does, but that hits harder. That hits him hard. It's a struggle to keep it off from his face, from reacting too much, before he gets the confirmation. The denial. He hopes it'll be the latter.

"You mean from the World Eaters?" she asked, confused at the topic change. and... she was pretty sure he knew that, didn't he? Yeah she was just really confused now.

It's so hard to say. Something rattling in his lungs and in his throat, and it's so hard to say the words through the lump in his throat.

He won't hesitate though. Darting around the subject-- maybe if he had more tact, he'd know how to do it. But he doesn't. Always, always so clumsy with his words; they flee from him like flocks of birds, so that only the heaviest ones can be caught. Can stumble through his lips.

"Najaran. Did you die in your world?" Please, no. He would pray to the Guardian Spirit he doesn't have-- but he truly, seriously hopes Najaran did not. Not in her world.

There is-- there is some good after all. In the train snapping them back before they can die here. Esteban doesn't like it, certainly resents it. But it could be far worse.

"What?!" she asked, stunned. She shook her head. "No... I mean, I don't think so... Why? Did something happen that I don't know about? I know when Mina and I went back we couldn't find anyone.... but... I didn't think I was dead..." She looked to Goligan.

"I do not think we died, Lady Najaran. I suspect even Culdra did not create an afterlife as odd as this Train."

Oh, thank the Guardians. He doesn't have one, but he'll thank them anyways. Romeo he'd learned early enough. Najaran--

It's... He wouldn't have taken it so well. He knows-- logically, he knows he can't save everyone, he can't save anyone. But it still hurts to think that there might be nothing that Esteban can do. That the people he knows and got attached to and loves-- are already gone.

But she's not. She's not, and Esteban breathes, settles his thoughts as best he can. One more, deep breath.

"Okay." Okay. She's okay. It's okay.

The train is messing with him, for sure.

"So what happened next?" He can listen to her past. She hasn't died, she's alive, somewhere, in her own world. It's a small comfort, but it is there all the same. He can listen to the rest of her tale.

She hesitated there, then deflated. "I'm... not sure I'm supposed to talk about that..." she mumbled. And there he has the real reason she'd been hesitating and stumbling. She was trying to figure out how to end the story, honestly, without getting her Master angry at her or putting people in danger. "I'm sorry," she added quietly.

There's a soft smile, a gentle relief, still lacing through Esteban's being. She can't tell him. And things sound horrible on their own, yes, and he doesn't doubt that there's grief, or pain hidden in there. But he's relieved, still, that death is not part of her story there.

"Nah." He's been pushy. "It's okay. Y've said what you could." And Esteban is glad to have this much. He's always been greedy for his friend, will always be greedy for his friends. But he won't push further than they'll allow him.

His breath is warm when he tries to steer them back, back out of this rabbit hole he's pushed them both in. A cheerier smile that lights up at the corner of his eyes.

"The bread sh'ld be ready soon. I'll go an' fetch them, an' we'll be able to serve it t' everybody. Sounds good?"

She was so relieved he wasn't pushing. She nodded and smiled brightly. "Okay!"

His quick dash to-and-back from the kitchen is quick enough, returning with the freshly baked bread, the aroma of it already mouth-watering. It takes him just a moment to start cutting the buns up, hollowing them out and plating them so that Najaran can pour the stew directly into the warm bread, and make the meal as scrumptious as he already knows it will be.

"Stews are the best!" he adds, lightly, just to start a chatter that might be easier on them both than his last line of questioning. "I love how it warms you all up!" he cheerfully adds as he passes a plate out to the nearest critter, so he can start focusing on the next bread.

"I always end up eatin' a lot of it. That an' soups are the best when travellin'."

She nodded, giving everything another stir. "Me too!"

"Naja, you eat a lot of everything...." Goligan pointed out.

Fade-to-black as discussed~

crowneddragon - 2022-09-11 02:26 (UTC) - Expand

Ty for the thread.

najaran - 2022-09-11 05:07 (UTC) - Expand

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Getting It Over With - Video - OTA (CW: Death mentions)

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Fade-to-black as discussed~

Ty for the thread.