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[asmywitness]

[[Tyler screens his calls - anyone who tries to actually call him, he'll text back in reply.]]

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[amaure]

Greetings, my friend.

Though, I do suppose we have fallen quite far from such a distinction. Nevertheless, I come to you in both peace and good faith. Much have I pondered over our last exchange, as well as the trouble that such an ill proceeding may yet inspire for either of us, and thus I have come to this decision.

You spoke of your wariness towards me, that you believe I withhold information so that I am at an advantage, that I only use my knowledge to, as you put it, fuck with people. It is not forgotten that I remind you of something dreadful from your past, and as such you may never be able to trust someone like me. This I understand, however, I do yet believe we can reach an understanding of some sort, a neutral ground of cooperation, at the very least.

I am not so foolish to believe us to ever be allies, as you have made the impossibility of such quite clear. Regardless, I think it would be wise for you to understand your enemy, if you wish to name me thus. You claimed I kept silent about myself in order to lord such information over others, but I am not here to confirm nor deny your claim. Instead, as I had offered previously, have you questions, I shall answer them.

Honestly, openly, earnestly.

So, come! Learn of your villain. You may leave this exchange pleasantly surprised, or you will be a learned man of his enemy. Bolstered both with weapon and shield against the foul fiend you wish to protect you and yours from. This is naught but advantageous to you, thus I advise you waste not this opportunity.

[This totally has nothing to do with him seeing Hythlodaeus and Tyler interacting, nope.]

[asmywitness]

[It takes a while for Tyler to get back to him, because A) he still doesn't like Solus, and while he's cooled off down from their argument enough that he doesn't resent the man for that specifically, he's still a bastard, and 2) talking on the network is a full-time commitment when you can't use your hands for other things.

But hey, it's not like he's got anything but time these days.]

I really don't think we had that distinction to begin with.

My not trusting you was an impartial fact, not a petty grievance. That is entirely separate from an unwillingness to work with you, in fact - and I wouldn't have been averse to doing so, Emet-Selch, if you hadn't insisted on taking every opportunity we met in person and turned it into some form of harassment. It's by your own pressing the matter and refusing to leave me alone that I am now both unwilling to trust OR work alongside you.

[solus you're not great at selling your case right now.]

I also feel you've somewhat misinterpreted the relationship I have with my feared one; but then the fault lies with me for explaining it poorly, and yes I do appreciate the irony of that. I did not fear you, nor do I suspect I ever had reason to - not until you made me fear you from your own actions and made what was a passing explanation as to why I might express discomfort into a self-fulfilling prophecy. I don't expect you to know what it's like to have some greater, unnatural, reality-twisting entity ease itself into your heart and mind, until the option to leave - and even awareness of such - is forcibly taken from you. Nor what it cost me personally to fight that off for long enough to save myself, and to still never be free of the damage it caused me and the ones I care about, when the fact I survived at all is a constant and painful reminder. Nor, frankly, should I expect you to - most people wouldn't, even in my own world.

I suppose I should appreciate the opportunity you're willing to offer me here, but I really just don't care. This isn't me slapping your hand away in anger, it's pure indifference to wanting to know more about the man who takes thrills in my discomfort. You're exhausting, and I don't want to invest more energy into a dead end relationship.

[amaure]

[He's not surprised this is the response he's been given, but the fact Tyler responded at all is good enough. The fact he called him Emet-Selch is grating, but it's fine. They'd likely find out eventually, but he had hoped he'd be the one to decide that, alas.]

You are ever presumptuous, and that has been your fault from the start. You say I don't know what it's like to have a reality-twisting entity ease into my heart and mind, yet you are absolutely wrong. I do, indeed, know exactly what that is like, for it has been my reality for eons. Mine is named Zodiark.

In my world, such a state is named being "tempered", and there is no hope of escape. Naught but servitude for the rest of your existence, and mine is eternal. How fortunate that you could break free, how fortunate that you've the luxury to cast off such shackles. Mayhap my curiosity with you and yours sprung from this similarity, but every interaction had been painted with a brush dipped in your trauma--a fact I have told you time and again I do not blame you for. However, do not act as if that had no effect on our interactions.

I genuinely apologized to you realizing the fault in such actions, I genuinely wished to make amends, but regardless of what I did, you would see me as naught more than that which enslaved you. Despite my intent, you and Steven both would nary see me as naught more than an unscrupulous instigator, when that was not always the case. I admit my frustration may have gotten the better of me towards the end, but honestly, I have been more than reasonable considering the actions I have been made to suffer for what counts for little more than some ill spoken words.

[asmywitness]

[.......oh.

And suddenly, in Tyler's mind, their whole dynamic shifts. Not enough to forgive him, never that, but. Just enough.

It takes a while longer to convince Isis of the fact, so she won't take it on herself to interfere; and a bit more still to steel himself to actually proceed.

Maybe an hour after his message, Solus gets a video call request.]

[amaure]

[At the lack of response, he figured that was that. Frustrating, but not unexpected. What is, is when he receives a video call request an hour later. It takes him a moment, but he does answer it. His expression is lacking all measure of its usual smugness, instead he just looks vexed and frustrated.

He says nothing, merely waits for Tyler to say--rather sign--the first thing.]

[asmywitness]

[The younger man looks distinctly uncomfortable, even if he's trying to hide it with proper posture.

For once his camera isn't zipping about as it watches him, but Isis is there looking disgruntled on the kitchen counter Tyler's sitting at.]

I will not apologise for my discomfort at you knowingly overstepping my boundaries. [great start. At least he looks more apologetic when he continues.] But you are correct in that I... do tend to jump to conclusions. I've always been prone to snap decisions, especially under stress, and it's not something I've examined closely about myself in recent times. So, I'm sorry for berating you under those conditions.

[He straightens a little, back from remorseful to just uncomfortable.] I do not believe I was wrong in my earlier comments of you withholding information, but the way I phrased it made it a poor assessment. You're under no obligation to reveal personal information, just as I and anyone else is not, especially not if you're only doing so to, in your own words, arm me against you. What I said in anger wasn't wrong, as I saw it at the time, but it was a poor debate when I was - and still am, I will have to admit, to some extent - biased against any justification you put forward. But I should work on that.

I'm willing to try and listen now, if you're still willing to explain.

[amaure]

[The scowl that's on Solus' face...softens, slightly, though he seems keen to keep some frustrated edge to it. Perhaps as a guard, perhaps because he's really that frustrated. It's hard to tell, but as Tyler signs to him, explaining and even apologizing, there's a notable shift in the harshness of his gaze.

At being given the floor, Solus hesitates a moment. Something contemplative crossing his features for a moment as he carefully considers how to proceed. With everything happening so quickly, with his obvious disconnect from Zodiark that he can't seem to ignore anymore, with his growing helplessness of being robbed of everything that kept him connected to his people, with Hythlodaeus showing up well before he deserves him...

Well, he's a bit of a mess. More than normal, and maybe in a sense, he's floundering when he's never truly done that before. And it's getting to him. Maybe, just maybe he sees something familiar, relatable, and pitiable in Tyler and that's why he tends to come back. It's not quite that he's trying to mess with him outright, it's more...

Breathing out a slow breath, he closes his eyes, re-centeres himself, then opens them once more. His expression more morose than angry now. The movements of his hands, while elegant and flamboyant, there's something slower to the movements, something somber.]

You are not wrong in that I withheld information about myself, merely wrong about the motive behind it. Well am I a proud sort, a man who loves his heritage, his people, his world...I would pay any price for them, and have done so for eons. The information I hold, the knowledge I purportedly lord over others is but their legacy and I am its keeper.

It is naught I can share too easily, nor that I would throw around like cheap gossip. Well have I over the ages had to keep much and more in secret. To ensure survival, to preserve myself and my own, but to likewise serve Him. I admit, that upon arriving here, I had acted much too rash, far too...foolish.

But, pray understand, for the first time in veritable millennia—I cannot hear Him. I cannot feel Him, and never have I been without my power. I knew not what to make of it, perhaps I still do not. I suppose I had acted in such a way to protect myself, at the time it felt prudent. After all, I had felt so...helpless. Relying on the only means I had at my disposal, but it was a fool's endeavor, I more than realize. Bad habits born of such servitude, of such necessity...

Truly regrettable. But if you genuinely are willing to listen—to understand—then I will impart to you such knowledge so that we might yet lay this needless animosity to rest.

[asmywitness]

[Tyler, too, knows what it is to be suddenly cut off from his powers; he's suffering that just as much as Solus is. But the scales are exponentially different, he recognises - especially since he has normality to fall back on. As weird as not having his powers is, he's not beholden to them in the same way, evidently, as Solus is. New addictive personality traits aside, he knows how to be human. Solus doesn't even have that.

He's not going to forgive the man for what he did to harm Tyler, even if it was lashing out in blind panic, but he's coming closer to understanding it.]

While I don't - can't, probably - understand the sheer depths of your own loss, I do understand what it feels like to have that kind of character-defining power suddenly stripped from you, when you've gotten so used to it that it's difficult to remember what, or who, you were without it. And I do want to understand your perspective better.

[amaure]

[He gives a solemn nod. While he's played the role of countless mortals over the eons, even those mortals, for the most part, had powers. Had magic, he always had that safety net of being an ascian. Being able to flee at any given moment he'd need to. He was never truly in danger like he had during the Final Days, never truly on the same level as actual mortals.

Now he is. And everything has been taken from him. Once again, he's lost everything that's defined him, merely in a different context now.]

I was never without it, for my people were the First People. We are like gods among mortals, but in my time, we were all there was. We were the average, the normal, we were not special. All were powerful, all were immortal. We knew naught but peace and prosperity, we did not fight, we did not harm one another, we did naught but learn of our world, and improve upon it for the sake of all.

For we wished for naught more than to learn, to teach, to grow—to create a world that all might get the chance to do the same. Unfettered by wanting, by woes, by pettiness.

That is, until we were faced with a crisis. Unprecedented, terrifying. Our civilization found itself perched upon a precipice, staring into oblivion. But through our prayers and our sacrifices, we would give rise to a being so magnificent, so powerful, that He would halt our annihilation and deliver us from our doom. Zodiark, a savior that would rewrite the laws of reality so that we might survive. One worthy of gratitude and reverence, yet not all would feel so.

There were others who found fault and fear in such an entity—but it was not He that should have been feared, rather they—due to their own ignorance and foolishness. Already had we lost more than three quarters of our world's population, and by His grace did those remaining survive so that we may start anew, yet such a chance was squandered, wasted, by these naysayers who would summon forth their own to shackle and bind Him.

[He pauses a moment, before he spells out her name:]

Hydaelyn. She is the Mother I had mentioned before. Through such an act, our people became divided for the first time, and with it so did we experience war. For our Gods fought, and fought, and fought—but in the end did Zodiark get laid low. So devastating was the final blow, that not only was He divided by ten and three reflections, but all of reality and everyone in it—save three.

I am one such survivor. When we three survivors looked upon our broken brethren, foolish, frail, fleeting...we knew deepest despair. They were ignorant of their loss, of their history, left with naught but the trace remembering of an achingly familiar world, the fleeting memories of a paradise lost.

Henceforth have I toiled to revive Zodiark—to save my people, to restore reality as it should be...regardless of what it might cost me to do so. And while my loyalty to my people, my love for them has greatly spurred me forward through these endless millennia, I know well that my tempering to Zodiark's will has had its own hand in such decisions. For there is no defying the will of a being so powerful, and while we could choose our course, how we went about such work—there is no avoiding what must needs be done to restore Him in the end.

I chose to teach the mortals of what they had lost, to give them the knowledge, that by rights, is theirs. For they are fragments of my people, shattered remnants of those I had once loved and cherished, but well did I leave them with their autonomy, never did I force their hand in what they did with such technologies.

It would be absurd to say it was not by design that these gifts were bestowed upon them with the knowledge they might wreak both havoc and chaos upon the land. For it was—but it would be an untruth to claim I did not hope desperately that they would choose another course. That they might defy such a calling that I could not. Never have they, and from what I have seen of man's history unfold, I fear they never will.

[He pauses a moment to let out a controlled breath, his gaze falling to the wayside a moment as he collects himself. Talking about such is...always an emotional endeavor, something made much harder now that his tempering doesn't force him to view his toils as...something less wretched than they are. Still, he finds himself viewing mortals as lesser, and how couldn't he? They are not complete beings, they are not as they should be.

No better than a shard of a priceless masterpiece broken apart by clumsy hands, never to be of the same value of its untouched and otherwise immaculate counterpart.]

I have committed a great measure of misdeeds by the measure of mortals, but in the end what I strive for is to save them, to give them back what had been taken from them. Ignorant though they are of such loss, such ignorance begets naught but endless misery and suffering.

[The irony being that he has had a hand in a great deal of that misery and suffering, even if somewhat indirectly. Some of it utterly directly.]

[asmywitness]

[That is all a lot to take in. Not just the sheer mass of what Solus has to say, but the actual meaning as well. It's not like Tyler doesn't understand conceptually the idea of utopia, but watching Solus spell it all out was a very different feeling to him gasbagging about it during an argument.

He's not sure if it makes it better or worse that this is indeed consistent with everything Solus has told him in the past so far.]

Hythlodaeus was making implications about you during my conversation with him. He told me the name Emet-Selch, and something about letting you take a job. [His brow furrows, a small bit of distaste leaking through.] Phrasing it as though I should ask him more about it.

[amaure]

[It's a lot to say, a lot to get out. In truth, he had done such not that long before arriving here. He had in fact been taken just as his hope in mortals had started to become rekindled... At Hythlodaeus' mention, his gaze softens to a degree far deeper than they ever have in Tyler's presence. There is little but love behind his eyes, the left corner of his crooked smile rising—but it is not a happy smile, something mournful. But when the question comes about the position, that smile evaporates, but the weighty feel of his expression does not.]

Indeed, though Emet-Selch is not my name. It is my title.

[Which is true! The next word he spells out, much like the many before he had not the sign for, nor could he.]

Amaurot—our capital—had a governing body called the Convocation of Fourteen. When the seat of Emet-Selch became vacant, the former retiring from his long held office, Hythlodaeus was offered the position. Though one might note the smugness in which Hythlodaeus holds himself, incurable of such as he may be, it would be folly to not notice too his humbleness. Thus, he had turned the position down.

So then, the position fell to me, and I did not decline.

[asmywitness]

[It's just a very weird conversation in general. He's not sure what to make of any of it yet, besides the nagging suspicion that Solus isn't actually lying about anything.]

What did the position entail, exactly? He seemed to phrase it as something you weren't ready for.

[amaure]

[At that mention, he scoffs, looking slightly irritated, but who wouldn't be? He doesn't look truly upset, if anything it seems like a familiar sort of annoyance, one that's tinged in secret fondness.]

Well was I ready for it, he but mourns that which I have suffered. He's a sentimental fool.

[These two idiots are just gonna go back and forth calling each other sensitive and sentimental...]

Emet-Selch is a position that is reserved for those whom have The Sight. Most Amaurotines have it to a degree, it is not rare in and of itself, but to the degree required for such a position is. Hythlodaeus and myself are uniquely talented in our ability to perceive others, for we can see their very souls. As thus, we have a born affinity with the Lifestream—though my people called it the underworld.

As such, my position dealt directly with the souls of all, to hold sway over the underworld, to guide those adamant souls of whom felt true satisfaction with their lives, those ready to return to whence they came. To make room for new life, so that those who come after might yet feel that similar satisfaction with their would-be life.

Any matter of the soul, both life or death, was my responsibility.

However, there was more to such a position, though all of the Convocation shared such burdens—for we guided our people as a group towards the best future for all.

[In short, he's the god of the underworld and death both.]

[asmywitness]

[Hm. He tries not to show it, but the idea of a single person getting to decide who lives or dies amongst their citizens is extremely discomfiting, to the Changeling who was forced to be the person that got to decide who lived or died amongst his friends every other day.

He doesn't comment on it otherwise, reserves judgement. It just. Feels gross.]

I can see equivalencies there to religious pantheons of my own world. The Convocation sounds like a "first among equals" sort of situation.

[amaure]

[More accurately, he was the one who did the deed, it was on the Amaurotine individual to decide when they were ready for death.]

In a sense, I do suppose, though we were nary worshiped as religious pantheons are oft, and we should not be. Though we were highly regarded for our wisdom and ability, what we had to offer was not to garner praise nor recognition, but was purely for the betterment and duty for our people.

Our burdens were great, indeed, but it is the duty of the capable to carry the weight for those who cannot.

i s2fg i sent this hours ago

[asmywitness]

So what happened to... end that period?

[Look he really wants to understand what the fuck with Zodiark]

omg its ok

[amaure]

[At the question, his gaze...quivers, but a moment later he steadies himself with a frown.]

As I said, a crisis came to my star. We knew not what the cause was, and still we do not. Mayhap we could, had we not been divided as we were, but we could endlessly whittle away the hours on what ifs and could haves.

A cacophonous keening from within the star itself rang out, as if the planet was sick and it was crying out. This sound distorted all living things within its earshot, disrupting our creation magics—which would bring about our greatest fears and anxieties into reality. Be it hellish beasts, endless fall of fiery rain—it mattered not.

It had first started in lands further out, eventually it spread and festered, affecting our neighbors, ere threatening to reach Amaurot as well. We devised a plan in order to save those who remained and the planet itself. Through our creation magics, we would give the star its own will. Bring forth a being that could write the laws of reality anew, and thus forestall our and the star's annihilation—through willful sacrifice of half our surviving number, we would achieve this, and we of the Convocation were the orchestrators of such.

Upon its success, Zodiark tempered all of the Convocation immediately, as is the wont of primals, though he would be the very first of their kind.

[asmywitness]

[Tyler can't quite keep how unsettling that notion is from fully creeping in to his posture; he stiffens, hunches a little, a worried frown creases his brow.

He can't imagine having to be the one to make that call. Doesn't want to imagine how that compares to his own choosing of who to escape his durance with, sacrificing half of everyone left he cared about to god knows what kind of torment, for his own skin.

Jesus christ why does everything with Solus have to hit him so hard.]

That would have been your hand that struck down so many, then. [His form is still tense, but he's truly not being judgemental, or snide. If anything, he looks... sympathetic, almost. It's just a passing thought.] And then the rest of who remained summoned Hydaelyn, right?

[amaure]

[He does not say nor react to Tyler's statement about whether or not it was his personal hand that had done such. Though, the silence is probably telling enough.

However, when he asks about Hydaelyn, he shakes his head.]

Nay. While Zodiark had indeed saved us and our world from the brink of annihilation, much the land had been destroyed, our water was poisoned, and so many species were lost. And so, we would call upon Zodiark again, and again half our number would be sacrificed so that us who remained may survive. May take up stewardship of the land and all the new life that Zodiark had granted us.

It was then, that a small fraction had grown to fear Zodiark, worry that His was a might too dangerous to leave unchecked. It was they who summoned Her, they who spoiled our chance to begin anew, to repair the world that had suffered such sorrow.

And by Her hand would the world we sacrificed so much for be broken further, and our people with it.

[asmywitness]

[His motions are somewhat hesitant when he replies, taking the time to think each word carefully before he commits. After all this he doesn't really want to offend him.]

I can see why they would think so. It cost three quarters of your people and most of the rest of life on your planet, by the sound of it, just to return it to a livable state. By your asking of him. If he was to turn and demand something of you in return, it would...

[Ah, but this is all ancient, ancient history. And Solus has already told him to some extent what he's done, the cost of Zodiark's demands - Tyler isn't saying anything new, it's just rehashing old scars. His hands ball into loose fists as he fumbles.]

I... sorry. It's all just a familiar narrative.

[amaure]

[He doesn't look offended by the start of what Tyler begins to say, only tired. But doesn't he always look so? Perhaps after all of this, the true weight of such a burden is looking rather heavy on him.]

If only a quarter of our remaining people would survive, it was a far better number than the alternative. They worried of further sacrifice, and in so doing they ensured the death of our people.

[His hands still for a moment, but then with motions closer to something gentle, than the pompous way he's taken to signing, he starts again.]

Would I be foolish to wager this familiarity is of a personal nature? Something to do with this Keeper of yours?

[asmywitness]

[Tyler's gaze turns low, away from the camera for a moment, and he rests his elbows on the counter to wring his hands for a moment. He doesn't want to talk about it, never has. Even Steven didn't know all the details of his durance, just broad enough strokes that he knew not to ask further; and Tyler respected the same in turn, not pressing Steven on his. It was just what Changelings did.

But Solus didn't have any of that context, and while he was sure he'd be willing to drop the subject, Tyler feels more than a bit like he owes the man that much. At least after sharing something so painful even through a second-hand lens.

It takes a moment to give his hands one final stretch as he braces himself.]

...yes, actually. I'm familiar with the nature of tempering, if not your specifics. Your entire story, really, I can see heavy parallels with... with my own.

What I am is a creature known as a Changeling. And they don't... receive their powers by choice. We start as mundane humans, with no knowledge that outer realms of magic and the supernatural exist outside of common stories. Fairy tales. [Though a shudder runs through him even just making that charmingly benign sign.] Until a [he makes the same sign as before, the sweeping devil horns, before he fingerspells it as well:] - a Lord - takes an interest in us, and chooses to take us back to their realm. Arcadia. If they did not temper us in the taking, they do so there, when we are trapped in their private fiefdom, beyond the Hedge barricading their realm from reality.

[A moment's pause, a quiet breath, before he continues.]

Every Changeling's story is different. None are universal, save for three things. The taking, the torment, and the escape. Steven and I run parallel, in that we were held to higher regard than our fellow captives, but the resemblance ends there. When I was Taken, it was with six others, people I held dear to my heart. They were all part of a theatre troupe, casual as it was. And when our Keeper took us, he put them to work as actors again. For stories that... [His hands shake, just for a moment, but he forces them to still and continues.] That I was to write, for his entertainment.

I was... [Another fumble, briefer.] Taught, by him. To write to his standard. To never repeat a story, or bore him. To speak, and enunciate, so I could recite to his audience what I wrote for myself. My friends would play the role of the characters I wrote. Our Keeper had... a fondness for tragedies. Sacrifice, and blood. And so I wrote them. Stories where the only people I had left in the world were forced to murder, main and do horrific things to each other for the entertainment of a higher being.[He almost smiles, a self-loathing little twitch of his mouth.] The deaths were as true as any, but the nature of Arcadia meant we could cure them to no other loss. So the plays never stopped.

[He has to pause, resting his hands flat on the counter to take a deep, quiet, shaking breath. Isis actually hops forward, looking away from the camera to watch Tyler with concern, and it takes him more than a few seconds to lift one hand and give Isis a gentle pat.]

A Lord's tempering is... hypnotic. It's easy to drown in his favour. To give in and become his. Become of his kind. But it's not irrefutable. As my powers grew, I started to see the pattern of narratives in the wider world, and realised I could toy with reality as easily as I could my friends' fates. So before I lost myself completely, I made my attempts to escape. But that kind of magic is... fickle. It only worked on the third attempt, as all stories say it should. And so I tried to leave with three, but my-- [His hands stutter, and his jaw tightens for a moment.] ...one sacrificed himself, and only myself and one other escaped. We had spent unknown years within Arcadia's grasp, but when we left it had been less than one in the real world.

[...sorry Steven.]

[amaure]

[Truly, he cannot say he is surprised that Tyler is sharing this with him. He does not think Tyler a cruel man, merely a damaged one, and for Solus to share what he had, the heart ache that permeates his chest even eons after the fact to only then be denied by Tyler to share his own...well, it would be rather cruel indeed. But, so too was this by design, though not any of malicious intent. He had hoped that if he shared his own story, that he too would learn of Tyler's, perhaps even some of Steven's.

He had wagered right.

As Tyler explains, his expression is sympathetic, the sorrow of his features shifting only to direct such to Tyler, instead of himself as it had before. While the scale is almost laughably different, the core of it is the same: Tyler was made to kill those he cared about, those he had left. But not once, rather several times over. For the entertainment of this cruel being that delighted in such suffering.

For all the suffering he has endured, for all the suffering he has caused with his toiling under Zodiark's will, he can say for certain that his God does not delight in such. It is merely a necessity. But there is no surprise in him that such a creature would be of the fae, from what he can presume of what Tyler says, anyway. Such creatures, though he would hesitate to name them evil, while immortal lacked greater perspective of the world. They were utterly self-centered, and greatly childish, caring only for the eternal now, caring not about the past or the future, for such concepts were meaningless to them. Consequence was a far off notion to them, alien and nonsensical, for it held no true weight in their minds, in their reality.

Idly he wonders if much could be said the same for those of Tyler's world. From the impression he's been given, he would assume so.]

My condolences, such an experience sounds truly wretched. The fae existed in my world as well, and well do I know the games they would play with mortals. For they were ignorant to their true effect—their cruelty to existences such as theirs. Never to realize the full weight of their actions—though this is not to say aught of it is excusable. Merely that I am familiar with their kind, and their shortsighted wickedness.

[And he is not like them. He might be the slightest bit salty that Tyler thought he and them alike, though it shows not in his movements or expression. But it's fine, he supposes he cannot fully blame him, not when he knew so little, and only had the smallest traces of an idea of what Solus was up to before now.]

You should not have been made to suffer so.

[Even if he might play a role that would imply otherwise, Solus takes no true pleasure in the suffering of others, and the genuine look of empathy given to Tyler might imply as such.]

[asmywitness]

[It's all a lot right now: but it's the look of genuine empathy and Solus's gentle words that get tears to suddenly well thickly in Tyler's eyes, and he looks away quickly to try and save face, clenching his jaw to try and keep them from spilling over.

It takes him more than a few seconds to calm down enough to feel comfortable looking directly into the camera again; but he hasn't actually wiped them away, he just sort of brute forced not crying.]

My earlier assessment of you reminding us of a Keeper isn't inaccurate, but it... takes a different angle now. For the ones who get kidnapped and tempered, and don't escape, eventually they become fully realised Lords themselves and perpetuate the cycle. While it's much of a muchness in the grand scheme, it does change what exactly I see you as.

[Still cruel, and manipulative, but pitiable for all of it.]

[amaure]

[The tears that threaten to fall as they form in Tyler's eyes, how he pulls away to save face and collect himself...all of it honestly makes Solus' heart hurt for him. Ever has he been an empath, never has such emotional sensitivity stopped for him. Even after all these millennia, but such things are especially impacting when he has some measure of investment in the person.

He...would hesitate to say he cares for Tyler, but he does not hate him, hell, he doesn't even dislike him, despite everything. Pity. He pities him, as he does...all mortals. They are fragile beings, unable to take the strain that the eternal can, regardless of what resilience they might boast. All of it is but a moment of brilliance, of defiance, and then they're gone.

Theirs are truly tragic existences, and he despairs over them when left to contemplate their lot overlong.

Once Tyler regains himself, and speaks once more, Solus watches him with that gentle and understanding gaze. Nodding similarly.]

I suppose that is fair. Though I disagree that I am like those fae—I labor for a goal outside of my own amusement or entertainment. Naught that I do is for simple pleasures, or to perpetuate aught at all, quite contrary. I do not delight in this destruction.

[His mouth thins to a line, his own jaw tightening as he swallows a little thickly.]

If I could walk a path of lesser tragedy, one without bloodshed, I would not hesitate. I have searched for eons for another way, for any means that I could achieve my goals without the cost of countless lives. Time and again I have failed, but I must press on. For the sake of not only my people, but for the stability of my reality.

If this still makes me a fiend, then so be it, but I would not have you or any other think I do this out of some twisted joy or amusement. I labor to bring about a world that would end suffering. A world where there is no need of heroes.