[ It's so... different from her world. Many gods, as opposed to a single one. ]
The gods created that for you, and penned all the laws of physics that allow life to flourish. I was going to say, that the stars are like your [ General "you". ] ancestors themselves.
But if these Astrals created humanity directly, that makes you... already billions of years closer to the gods. [ Than anyone in her own world, anyway, and that's... pretty incredible, she thinks. ]
[ She inclines her head to the side, blinking slowly as she looks at him. ]
...Beyond.... creation, you mean.
[ How to put this? Her lips part as if to ask something, but she stops before she begins. After a moment, she adjusts where she sits, turning more to face him, little finger still twined with his. ]
...I have a question. [ As she always does. She wonders if she should give some context, that there is only one deity in her world, and he has not meddled in... oh, she cannot even remember, it's been so long. Now, onto the question. ]
If I may ask... what is it like, having gods among you? Or what was it like, for those in your history?
I fear I'm not fully sure how to answer. The existence of the Astrals has ever been simple accepted fact, so I know little of what about it might seem unusual to others. As for the history of our star, I fear I can tell you little of that as well; the civilization which predated the kingdom of Lucis fell long ago, with little to no record left in its wake.
Yes, essentially. Legend holds that Solheim grew in power that either they grew arrogant or merely tread upon the dominion of gods with their magitek and advancements. All that history tells us is that one of the Astrals rebelled against humanity violently, and in the wake of a conflict between the Six did Solheim fall to complete destruction and ruin.
[ Arrogant, prideful, treading upon the gods' dominion...
Her expression clearly conveys that she can't quite understand the reason the legend provides. What is important is that somehow, someway, a god of his world brought ruin to many, many lives. She's heard this story before. ]
A story like that... one make many fear the gods, I imagine.
On my world, there is...a bloodline favored by the gods. And a son of that house was given the power to protect the star from an encroaching and terrible darkness. But the gods handed him a task which cost him dearly in body and soul, ultimately leading to his destruction alongside all he held dear. Cast down by the same divine power as unworthy, he died in shame and obscurity.
...I do not know if the divine will he sought to see done was truly a possible task from its outset. And if it was not, how can one trust in even their own gods if they would treat their own pious creations so coldly?
However his question remains more pressing to regard. It is rhetorical-- Ardyn pries at the supposed benevolence and integrity of the gods for giving this fate to this man, hinting at unfairness, a lack of justice. It must be an ancient tale, much like the story of the city being brought to ruin by the other gods. ]
This man... [ She shakes her head. ] I do not understand. How was he not worthy, if he protected his world? What was he not worthy of?
The power he was granted and the work he did resulted in the darkness itself taking root in his body and soul. Perhaps it is as simple as the gods wanting that darkness expunged completely along with its mortal vessel, or perhaps he was himself not possessed of the strength to truly contain it.
[ "...handed him a task which cost him dearly in body and soul, ultimately leading to his destruction."
Yet, "was given the power to protect the star from an encroaching and terrible darkness." She takes his new speculation into account. When Pyra opens her eyes and lifts her gaze, she looks upon the stars with sorrow. ] It... is a tragic story.
He was a sacrifice to protect his world. He was worthy all along, only not in the way he thought...[ She brings her free hand up to her mouth, covering her lips. ] How--... how awful.
[ How awful they did not find someone more willing. There are many people who love the world to do whatever it takes to save it, even if it means being rejected and cast into obscurity, forgotten as well. But this man wanted to be remembered, which is fair to want, to have.
A moment passes, and then she sighs. ] ...Thank you, for telling me this. What that man gave for the world, and what was taken from him... he is worthy of being remembered for it, I think.
[Ardyn didn't speak after that for a long moment, grateful for a thin excuse to continue looking at the sky rather than Pyra.]
[Of course he'd loved the world. He still did, beneath the anger and resentment two millennia of complete solitude had left behind. That hadn't been the kingdom's fault, neither had it been the people's. Not Lucis, not Niflheim, not anything in between. In whatever heart was left beneath the corruption and the darkness...he still loved the people and knew they deserved better than to live in fear.]
I suppose so.
[But that did nothing to change that Ardyn, and all his efforts, had been found wanting for reasons he still didn't understand.]
[ Tales, stories, legends, myths, they might have some basis in reality. But the messages they convey outlive the settings and empires in which they've been told. And like being conveyed a proper story, it does make her think of its message, if any can be interpreted.
It also makes her think of the stars. ]
....I mentioned before that the light of the stars is creation itself. [ Hydrogen. Helium. Carbon. Silicon, sodium, magnesium, neon, nickle... Iron. But only up to iron for some, where, upon the kindling of iron triggers a collapse. It is in the resulting, explosive death throes that all the heavier elements are created. ] They create all throughout their lives... and even in death, they create. [ The stars give. They give and give and give, but they give the most in their deaths: an opportunity for more to exist, far more complex than before. And live. A future, for others. ]
It's a bit extreme, don't you think, for a god to demand that one of their children. [ It is the parent who should sacrifice themselves for their child, that which they cherish. In her opinion. ]
If the gods should find that the fate of the world falls upon a choice of one life in exchange for all others... [He trailed off, briefly uncertain of how to finish that sentence. If that was the case, then...then it was alright, wasn't it? It was fine, so long as it was only him and no one else. Just so long as-]
...there should be no reason to hide as much. And if it was not intended, if he truly was mistaken in his actions, then would it not have been the responsibility of the gods to make him aware of as much, for their sake and mankind's alike?
[Another pause as Ardyn worked to untangle the logic of a line of thought he had been afraid to approach and remained afraid to approach.]
Or...was his destruction the very plan itself to begin with? My curiosity comes down to a matter of 'was it the gods or mortals who acted in error, or did the former merely lie?'.
[ He gives a series of questions that have no clear answers. Ultimately, she is not of his world and has even less details to speculate upon this story than even he does. But he's engaging her in conversation, which makes her believe that he wouldn't mind some external input...
But at the risk of sounding ignorant (which, she is), she feels she must give context of where she comes from. ] In... my world. No one is owed any explanation for the course of fate or what grand designs he has for the world. [ He would not have any responsibility to unveil is designs; anyone who thought otherwise would be far too entitled, presumptuous. His tools, too, would certainly not just choose anyone with whom to work; and even then, they would not reveal all to those they choose.
With that in mind, then, ] If... if that is similar to how the gods operate in yours, by not telling him... They gave him the illusion of choice to use his power to help the world. Which, nobly, he did help this darkness. [ Thus, his choice and fate aligned. ] I believe the question becomes... Would it have been better if he had known he had no choice at all?
No, of course not. Our gods do not, with limited exception, speak to mortals at all; an ordinary person and indeed most extraordinary ones would go through life with no idea if it were meant to have purpose or meaning, and such is considered normal. That royal house and the limited contact they had with the blessings of the divine are a lone exception.
[But with that aside...would it have been better? Ardyn lapsed into a deeply thoughtful silence as he considered the matter carefully. What would have happened if the Draconian descended from on high and told him all that would happen once he took even one step forward on the path laid before him? Would he have still walked it, knowing the price? Not paid by himself alone, but all of them--Aera, the kingdom, the bloodline, even Somnus?]
[There almost seemed as though there would be no answer. But then something in those distant eyes changed, a spark of some long-lost conviction struggling to catch alight.]
If he had known the path was but a singular line, and if he had seen what laid at the end of it...no. None of it would have been better at all.
[He began to grasp the shape of something, slowly forming an understanding of Cor's distaste for the gods, Era's desire to kill them and even Emet-Selch's distaste for the entire matter. Of course Ardyn had called it sacrilege at first, but the more he thought of the matter, the more it felt...]
Because it was wrong. If the Draconian had asked of him to work tirelessly for uncountable years or even lay down his life for his people, it would have been done the moment such a request was made. But to allow him to do what was presented as the Astrals' will and correct option, doing naught and meeting prayer with silence as his only family would turn from him and his beloved would die in his arms--
[His free hand curled into a loose fist, that old resentment boiling in his chest with a very different target than it had been focused upon for untold centuries.]
Any god that would stand by and allow their chosen savior to be cast out and forgotten i-...isn't worth following.
[ She notices the change as soon as it happens. The inflection in his tone, the furrow in his brow, the shift, the hand curling. There is resentment shrouded there. There is anger. This story moves him; infuriates him, perhaps. It would anyone; no one enjoys a tale of futility.
Because it is wrong, he says-- wrong for... the gods-- this "Draconian"? This sounds presumptuous to her to ascribe that a god should do anything; then again, she comes from a world where the god in her world largely does... nothing, although many pray and have those prayers answered with silence. Knowing this is a key difference in their deities, it would be unwise to comment upon this. She must go by what he tells her.
Conversely, it is interesting to think that someone may say that gods should be held accountable for their actions. (Briefly, she thinks of the gods here and what the otherworlders have been told. There would be those who would hold Rawna and the rest accountable for bringing others in, even to save their world. But what happens to this world?) Created by the gods in their image he may be, it sounds as if he does not wish to be used. To be merely seen as a tool. ]
....It... sounds as if you want something better for this man in the story. [ She says slowly. ] Because they were unfair to him.... Cruel, too. He chose to help, but suffered and received no answers.
[ They had talked about sacrifice before. But would a man who had loved ones go so willingly? Can't he not sacrifice anything and keep those he loves and live? ]
[Ardyn had never truly wanted anything; another point on which he and his brother sharply differed. Somnus had been ambition and grand dreams made manifest, while Ardyn had only ever sought a quiet life with his brother and beloved. Simple, peaceful things without the weight of the world upon them all.]
I imagine...someone like that must not have wished much for himself, if all he did was to help others.
[ This is an exercise. Now that she's invested, she's going to see this through! ] ...If it's his fate to help, and he chose to help regardless of not knowing... [ Would it make a difference, besides having this Draconian come off as politer in conveying their plans? ] This man would need to be more selfish, I think, to alter destiny.
[ She pauses to muse for a moment. There's a glance to him, then back to the stars. ] He had others he loved, didn't he? A beloved, family... parents-- who might have wanted more for him than what fate had given him. It seems like he was loved, and you can only be loved like that if you give a great love first.
[ Then, her voice quiets. ] To change fate... I think he'd need to first stop helping others alone. [ For in the story, it sounds as if only he had this burden. A unique gift, yes, but it seems to have isolated him, willingly or not. The man must accept help, too, instead of giving all and becoming a martyr alone. ] To let them shoulder some of his burden in some way or form.
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The gods created that for you, and penned all the laws of physics that allow life to flourish. I was going to say, that the stars are like your [ General "you". ] ancestors themselves.
But if these Astrals created humanity directly, that makes you... already billions of years closer to the gods. [ Than anyone in her own world, anyway, and that's... pretty incredible, she thinks. ]
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Perhaps--I do not know how long our star has existed, but the hand of the divine in our history is proven fact beyond doubt.
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...Beyond.... creation, you mean.
[ How to put this? Her lips part as if to ask something, but she stops before she begins. After a moment, she adjusts where she sits, turning more to face him, little finger still twined with his. ]
...I have a question. [ As she always does. She wonders if she should give some context, that there is only one deity in her world, and he has not meddled in... oh, she cannot even remember, it's been so long. Now, onto the question. ]
If I may ask... what is it like, having gods among you? Or what was it like, for those in your history?
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Her expression clearly conveys that she can't quite understand the reason the legend provides. What is important is that somehow, someway, a god of his world brought ruin to many, many lives. She's heard this story before. ]
A story like that... one make many fear the gods, I imagine.
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And yourself?
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[That seemed like a difficult question, from how Ardyn hesitated and stared distantly at the sky.]
I used to know how I felt about the Hexatheon. Now, I think myself far less sure.
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I would hear your thoughts, even if you are unsure. [ While he may look above to the stars, her eyes close for the meantime. ]
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...I do not know if the divine will he sought to see done was truly a possible task from its outset. And if it was not, how can one trust in even their own gods if they would treat their own pious creations so coldly?
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However his question remains more pressing to regard. It is rhetorical-- Ardyn pries at the supposed benevolence and integrity of the gods for giving this fate to this man, hinting at unfairness, a lack of justice. It must be an ancient tale, much like the story of the city being brought to ruin by the other gods. ]
This man... [ She shakes her head. ] I do not understand. How was he not worthy, if he protected his world? What was he not worthy of?
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Yet, "was given the power to protect the star from an encroaching and terrible darkness." She takes his new speculation into account. When Pyra opens her eyes and lifts her gaze, she looks upon the stars with sorrow. ] It... is a tragic story.
He was a sacrifice to protect his world. He was worthy all along, only not in the way he thought...[ She brings her free hand up to her mouth, covering her lips. ] How--... how awful.
[ How awful they did not find someone more willing. There are many people who love the world to do whatever it takes to save it, even if it means being rejected and cast into obscurity, forgotten as well. But this man wanted to be remembered, which is fair to want, to have.
A moment passes, and then she sighs. ] ...Thank you, for telling me this. What that man gave for the world, and what was taken from him... he is worthy of being remembered for it, I think.
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[Of course he'd loved the world. He still did, beneath the anger and resentment two millennia of complete solitude had left behind. That hadn't been the kingdom's fault, neither had it been the people's. Not Lucis, not Niflheim, not anything in between. In whatever heart was left beneath the corruption and the darkness...he still loved the people and knew they deserved better than to live in fear.]
I suppose so.
[But that did nothing to change that Ardyn, and all his efforts, had been found wanting for reasons he still didn't understand.]
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It also makes her think of the stars. ]
....I mentioned before that the light of the stars is creation itself. [ Hydrogen. Helium. Carbon. Silicon, sodium, magnesium, neon, nickle... Iron. But only up to iron for some, where, upon the kindling of iron triggers a collapse. It is in the resulting, explosive death throes that all the heavier elements are created. ] They create all throughout their lives... and even in death, they create. [ The stars give. They give and give and give, but they give the most in their deaths: an opportunity for more to exist, far more complex than before. And live. A future, for others. ]
It's a bit extreme, don't you think, for a god to demand that one of their children. [ It is the parent who should sacrifice themselves for their child, that which they cherish. In her opinion. ]
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...there should be no reason to hide as much. And if it was not intended, if he truly was mistaken in his actions, then would it not have been the responsibility of the gods to make him aware of as much, for their sake and mankind's alike?
[Another pause as Ardyn worked to untangle the logic of a line of thought he had been afraid to approach and remained afraid to approach.]
Or...was his destruction the very plan itself to begin with? My curiosity comes down to a matter of 'was it the gods or mortals who acted in error, or did the former merely lie?'.
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But at the risk of sounding ignorant (which, she is), she feels she must give context of where she comes from. ] In... my world. No one is owed any explanation for the course of fate or what grand designs he has for the world. [ He would not have any responsibility to unveil is designs; anyone who thought otherwise would be far too entitled, presumptuous. His tools, too, would certainly not just choose anyone with whom to work; and even then, they would not reveal all to those they choose.
With that in mind, then, ] If... if that is similar to how the gods operate in yours, by not telling him... They gave him the illusion of choice to use his power to help the world. Which, nobly, he did help this darkness. [ Thus, his choice and fate aligned. ] I believe the question becomes... Would it have been better if he had known he had no choice at all?
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[But with that aside...would it have been better? Ardyn lapsed into a deeply thoughtful silence as he considered the matter carefully. What would have happened if the Draconian descended from on high and told him all that would happen once he took even one step forward on the path laid before him? Would he have still walked it, knowing the price? Not paid by himself alone, but all of them--Aera, the kingdom, the bloodline, even Somnus?]
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If he had known the path was but a singular line, and if he had seen what laid at the end of it...no. None of it would have been better at all.
[He began to grasp the shape of something, slowly forming an understanding of Cor's distaste for the gods, Era's desire to kill them and even Emet-Selch's distaste for the entire matter. Of course Ardyn had called it sacrilege at first, but the more he thought of the matter, the more it felt...]
Because it was wrong. If the Draconian had asked of him to work tirelessly for uncountable years or even lay down his life for his people, it would have been done the moment such a request was made. But to allow him to do what was presented as the Astrals' will and correct option, doing naught and meeting prayer with silence as his only family would turn from him and his beloved would die in his arms--
[His free hand curled into a loose fist, that old resentment boiling in his chest with a very different target than it had been focused upon for untold centuries.]
Any god that would stand by and allow their chosen savior to be cast out and forgotten i-...isn't worth following.
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Because it is wrong, he says-- wrong for... the gods-- this "Draconian"? This sounds presumptuous to her to ascribe that a god should do anything; then again, she comes from a world where the god in her world largely does... nothing, although many pray and have those prayers answered with silence. Knowing this is a key difference in their deities, it would be unwise to comment upon this. She must go by what he tells her.
Conversely, it is interesting to think that someone may say that gods should be held accountable for their actions. (Briefly, she thinks of the gods here and what the otherworlders have been told. There would be those who would hold Rawna and the rest accountable for bringing others in, even to save their world. But what happens to this world?) Created by the gods in their image he may be, it sounds as if he does not wish to be used. To be merely seen as a tool. ]
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....It... sounds as if you want something better for this man in the story. [ She says slowly. ] Because they were unfair to him.... Cruel, too. He chose to help, but suffered and received no answers.
[ They had talked about sacrifice before. But would a man who had loved ones go so willingly? Can't he not sacrifice anything and keep those he loves and live? ]
What ending would you give him instead?
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[Ardyn had never truly wanted anything; another point on which he and his brother sharply differed. Somnus had been ambition and grand dreams made manifest, while Ardyn had only ever sought a quiet life with his brother and beloved. Simple, peaceful things without the weight of the world upon them all.]
I imagine...someone like that must not have wished much for himself, if all he did was to help others.
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[ She pauses to muse for a moment. There's a glance to him, then back to the stars. ] He had others he loved, didn't he? A beloved, family... parents-- who might have wanted more for him than what fate had given him. It seems like he was loved, and you can only be loved like that if you give a great love first.
[ Then, her voice quiets. ] To change fate... I think he'd need to first stop helping others alone. [ For in the story, it sounds as if only he had this burden. A unique gift, yes, but it seems to have isolated him, willingly or not. The man must accept help, too, instead of giving all and becoming a martyr alone. ] To let them shoulder some of his burden in some way or form.
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