Tyler Tian Huang | 黄泰勒田 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asmywitness) wrote2020-03-03 05:40 pm
asmywitness) wrote2020-03-03 05:40 pmEntry tags:
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[[Tyler screens his calls - anyone who tries to actually call him, he'll text back in reply.]]
asmywitness) wrote2020-03-03 05:40 pm
no subject
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.]
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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.
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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
[Look he really wants to understand what the fuck with Zodiark]
omg its ok
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.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.]
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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.]
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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.]
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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.
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[He is listening, and he's doing his best to understand Solus's radically different worldview; but cynicism has always run strongly through him, even before his durance, and he can't help but think how fundamentally unachievable Solus's goal is. That whether it was Zodiark making him, or his own volition in trying to "fix" things, it's simply unattainable.
Or at the very least, incompatible with Tyler's own understanding of the world. Not that it'll make any positive headway in the conversation to bring it up, let alone attempt to debate the concept.]
I'm rather fed up with black and white stories of heroes and monsters, myself, so I do understand the sentiment in as much as that. [Which is, yes, bringing it up, but understating it (and deliberately misinterpreting it, to some extent) doesn't count. He's fairly certain Solus knows he understands the point.] But I think the sheer scale is going to be something that will remain difficult for people to come to terms with. It's one thing to say it of a friendship group or a single community, but millions of years, billions or even trillions of lives, that's... [His hands shift, fingers wring idly - a genuine moment of consideration as to how to describe it, not emotional hesitation.] ...willingly or not, to knowingly commit so many people to death, for the cause of something so... historically unattainable, is something that most mortals won't be able to think kindly towards, if they can even comprehend that magnitude of scale. Even knowing your story as much as you're willing to share, and actively working towards understanding your perspective, part of me still can't help but revile the idea.
[None of it is said with any revulsion on his face, though, no sharp flicks of his hands that come with his unconscious distaste or flared temper. His signs have remained calm and clear, particularly after his moment of intense thought partway through. He's sure Solus has already long since established what humans - mortals - think of his methods, but if part of this was supposed to be acknowledging their own biases then it bore repeating that he knew he would always be victim to his own.]
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Slowly, he shakes his head, looking a touch disappointed, but nothing horribly judgmental. Idly he wonders if he can truly get this through to Tyler, or if he will be like other mortals and fail to see the bigger picture.]
What I seek is not unattainable, for it was the very world I had once lived in. I know for an absolute fact such a reality can and has existed, viewed thus it can once more.
[His movements are slow and very deliberate, like someone speaking gently or cautiously. After all, he realizes his thoughts on the matter do clash greatly with the mortal view and understanding of the world, and this is a fragile thing. Little does he wish to break apart what has been barely been restored between he and Tyler. Something that will never quite be as good as it could have been if not for their terrible encounters in the first place...but better than it has been.]
I understand that what I seek to do seems cruel or unfair to mortals, and little would I do any of this if it were not necessary. However, in the grand scheme of things, beyond the individual deaths that might occur through each Rejoining me and mine invoke, one must truly look beyond that. Just as my people gave up seventy-five percent of their remaining lives so that a quarter could survive—for otherwise we would all perish—these deaths would ensure not only that further tragedy could not continue unabated...but that should there be rise of another crisis, that we would face true annihilation once more, it could be prevented.
As I stated, we still know not what caused our doom, and mortals are utterly incapable of even what our infants could achieve—I do not say this as a churlish insult, merely undeniable fact. With that in mind, we are no closer to figuring out the source of such an event, for all we could do ere the great sundering, was stop a symptom. Not the problem itself. Should reality continue as it is, all life could very well be eliminated.
The world, reality, all people left divided as they are cannot weather such a cataclysmic event, when they can barely survive the calamities we ascians bring in order to restore aught how it should be. For the momentary mass death we would have to cause, it would prevent further loss of life. It would bring far better security, far better preservation of life and existence as a whole.
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I would like to clarify first that I do, objectively understand that sacrifice is necessary in order to force a path towards peace or success. That it is required for your methodology to function at its most effective. That I have no concept of a literal universe being forcibly divided in a manner that can only worsen over time, and that you do, with all apparent sincerity [no offense solus but] believe that your means are your only option.
These are the facts as you have presented them to me, and I can understand them logically.
This does not mean that I am able to comprehend them emotionally. Killing six people very nearly broke me completely - I cannot bring myself to think of doing it to more, to condemn entire countries, worlds, to death, without the threat of guilt utterly consuming me. Few with anything even remotely similar to my experience would be able to, and fewer still would agree out of hand.
The way you talk about mortals... [His hands slow a little; his turn to be cautious, now.] You are fond of us - you genuinely care about us, at times - but there's a sense of... detachment, when you do. You quite obviously don't see us as being anywhere near the same level as yourself, but you talk about us almost like animals. I know I may be misinterpreting, so I apologise, but it gives the impression you don't see us as fully sentient, in a way. It makes it... difficult, to therefore gauge how much of humanity's traits require explaining, but the topic at hand necessitates a reminder, here: mortals, quite literally, cannot comprehend the scale of death that you work on. The grief of a single death can lay most people low enough as is, but our minds, in every sense of the word, are not equipped to handle it. We grieve, we rage, we pretend it didn't happen, because if we were to genuinely understand something even remotely close to that level of loss, we would go completely mad. There is an irreconcilable chasm between heart and mind that we cannot bridge, for our own sanity. And the few that do are not considered 'well'.
[Tyler has, and he knows he has underlying PTSD he should probably be working on.]
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[It isn't signed in any way that would seem short or angry. Still, he upholds that somber sincerity, even if he looks a little off-put by the implication that somehow he would grieve differently. Like he would feel less about any of this than a mortal could.
Mortals are a fraction of what he and his were, in all aspects. Every piece that makes someone an individual: strength, intelligence, emotion...all of that is a fraction of what a being like him is.]
Mortals are not special in this regard, for we immortals were never meant to suffer loss in the way you mortals are designed with your fragile lives. Our deaths were planned, chosen, naught abrupt about it, ere that crisis we had never faced tragedy. Furthermore, we view both the past and present as one whole—the scale in which we experience time is fair different than what one such as you would. Be it a hundred or a thousand years, I can recall it all as clearly as though it were mere moments ago. While I know the passing of time, eternal beings such as myself operate far differently in such regards.
[Which, if anything, says much and more about his current state of grief... Though, he also seems to be pointedly avoiding the topic of whether or not he cares about mortals. He knows he...sometimes has a lapse in judgment, allows himself to get attached when he shouldn't. Sometimes gets overly fond of them, when it's a foolish endeavor. When he knows, that even if they are not killed in the calamities, they will die regardless. It's only asking to get hurt, to suffer more loss.
Perhaps he has not succumb to his grief due to having to keep busy, due to the work he does all for his people. For Zodiark.]
However, I would not quite place you on the same level of beasts. Yet, you are not complete beings, nor can you live truly full lives. Well do I know the rules of my reality are not the rules of yours, but from what I have come to understand it is tragically equivalent. With this in mind, I find myself viewing the mortals of other worlds and those from mine much the same.
I am able to do what must needs be done with these facts in mind, for it is less that I am taking life, and more that I am restoring it. A fragmented soul might live a thousand lives, but so too will it die a thousand deaths—while a whole soul could live far longer, nigh endlessly, and their demise would be one of choice, not tragedy. One of satisfaction, not regret.
Far less grief, far less suffering. I do not expect you to be able to comprehend all of this within moments of its presentation to you, for it even took one such as I a great measure of time to make peace with it. But, that you can see the logic behind it, and objectively understand its necessity—such puts you well above most mortals.
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...I apologise for my assumption. It's still hard reframing what... other immortals are capable of when I've only had the one, far less sympathetic example.
[It's honestly hard admitting he's not seeing things as objectively as he thinks he does, and this is a very exhausting conversation for it.]
If it's alright with you, I. May have to draw this conversation to a close. You've given me a lot to try and wrap my head around, that I need to come to terms with in a few ways. [He offers a small, uncertain smile.] I appreciate you taking the time to tell me all of it. I know it can't have been easy.
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Tyler was right in that he's fond of mortals in his own way—but mainly he pities them, despite himself. Much the same with how he feels about Tyler, and the clear discomfort that he's feeling settles Solus a bit. Letting out a slow breath, he's able to calm himself. But that apology also helps to soothe his disappointment, and he gives a shallow nod.]
You are right, this is never easy, but neither is the constant misunderstandings. If I can yet find common ground, or at the very least understanding, to keep such at bay...then it's worth revisiting the ache.
[He gives Tyler his own smile, and if he remembers what Hythlodaeus said, he might note that the left corner of his mouth is the higher part to his otherwise crooked smile.]
You have my gratitude, thank you. Pray take care.
[And with that usual flamboyant wave of his—though it's far more languid and...tired, he cuts the feed.]