A small, dark mahogany chest sat opened upon the desk. Nestled upon the felt padding inside lay the stone. A rough square of aquamarine with the same white, etched shield symbol common to others of its ilk. Beside the small box lay a hand with upturned palm. A matching roughly cut precious stone held aloft as if for comparison. And in the dim-lighted silence of the room a decision had yet to be made.
Rules were made not to be broken, and among the brethren in the Order there was one common understanding impressed upon their earliest training. That nobody was to carry the soul of a companion, friend, or anyone else they had known in life. The stones they carried were but vessels. A spark of the essence of every man before would leave its mark, add to its experience, shape its oft times forgotten sentience. A sentience that still held memories, desires. Grievances.
The aetheric ties made between two souls in life could persist even through death. Such ties may become manifest as a feeling of being watched. Hearing whispers in emotionally significant locations to the living. Seeing dust caught in the moonlight taking shape momentarily only to be whisked away by the slightest breeze. To the more rational man such occurrences are simply waved away as the results of heavy meals at unusual hours. Or simply ignored if noticed at all.
What happens when such ties are more focused, however? When two souls with unreconciled pasts are allowed to influence one another beyond the physical veil of flesh and bone? While one remains limited by its yet unclaimed mortality the other is free of all material and moral constraints. It is then that the influence of one over the other may become a contest of wills. And when the vessel that yet remains in Eorzea proves the weaker due to emotions, regret, guilt?
The risk is too great. The soul stones are intended to help train and guide the bearer through their own path in life. When a soul returns to the aether its impact on the world is ended. The course of life is left to those who still draw breath and the departed are allowed to rest finally from their burdens. It is the natural order of things.
Varys Walker. Ser Walker - or rather "Lord Varys" as he preferred to be called - was the prior holder of the stone that rested within the palm. A self-centred and boorish man who did not earn his title but rather bought it. Remnants of an age where the Order was filled with more aristocrats than servants. The man had died alone in his bed surrounded by his wealth and left no mark on Thanalan's history worth mentioning. To the observant, however, it may be said that his pride had been passed on in some measure. A characteristic that might only be noticed by those who knew the stone's bearer in past times.
The hand lifted and drew near to the second stone. One might have expected some sort of acknowledgement or interaction between the two. There was nothing. Just two chiselled crystals of no discerning difference. The one was held aloft as the decision was weighed once more. To continue as one was, or to break the rule for the possibility of momentary gain? Out of the corner of the eye a gleam shone from the stone in the background as if it had sensed the question and gave its approving wink.
There was a slight incline of the palm and the stone slid off the side and landed on the felt below with barely a thud. In an instance the stones places were traded and then compared side to side again. Slender fingers closed over the soulstone followed by eyes as they began to re-attune to one another. Shared memories of the recent past came back into forethought before being consciously pushed aside while one will strove against the other.
Coatleque was aware of her decision to take the stone, the weight of her own grief over past events, a suddenly incredible thirst for ale (of all things), followed by darkness.
Rules were made not to be broken, and among the brethren in the Order there was one common understanding impressed upon their earliest training. That nobody was to carry the soul of a companion, friend, or anyone else they had known in life. The stones they carried were but vessels. A spark of the essence of every man before would leave its mark, add to its experience, shape its oft times forgotten sentience. A sentience that still held memories, desires. Grievances.
The aetheric ties made between two souls in life could persist even through death. Such ties may become manifest as a feeling of being watched. Hearing whispers in emotionally significant locations to the living. Seeing dust caught in the moonlight taking shape momentarily only to be whisked away by the slightest breeze. To the more rational man such occurrences are simply waved away as the results of heavy meals at unusual hours. Or simply ignored if noticed at all.
What happens when such ties are more focused, however? When two souls with unreconciled pasts are allowed to influence one another beyond the physical veil of flesh and bone? While one remains limited by its yet unclaimed mortality the other is free of all material and moral constraints. It is then that the influence of one over the other may become a contest of wills. And when the vessel that yet remains in Eorzea proves the weaker due to emotions, regret, guilt?
The risk is too great. The soul stones are intended to help train and guide the bearer through their own path in life. When a soul returns to the aether its impact on the world is ended. The course of life is left to those who still draw breath and the departed are allowed to rest finally from their burdens. It is the natural order of things.
Varys Walker. Ser Walker - or rather "Lord Varys" as he preferred to be called - was the prior holder of the stone that rested within the palm. A self-centred and boorish man who did not earn his title but rather bought it. Remnants of an age where the Order was filled with more aristocrats than servants. The man had died alone in his bed surrounded by his wealth and left no mark on Thanalan's history worth mentioning. To the observant, however, it may be said that his pride had been passed on in some measure. A characteristic that might only be noticed by those who knew the stone's bearer in past times.
The hand lifted and drew near to the second stone. One might have expected some sort of acknowledgement or interaction between the two. There was nothing. Just two chiselled crystals of no discerning difference. The one was held aloft as the decision was weighed once more. To continue as one was, or to break the rule for the possibility of momentary gain? Out of the corner of the eye a gleam shone from the stone in the background as if it had sensed the question and gave its approving wink.
There was a slight incline of the palm and the stone slid off the side and landed on the felt below with barely a thud. In an instance the stones places were traded and then compared side to side again. Slender fingers closed over the soulstone followed by eyes as they began to re-attune to one another. Shared memories of the recent past came back into forethought before being consciously pushed aside while one will strove against the other.
Coatleque was aware of her decision to take the stone, the weight of her own grief over past events, a suddenly incredible thirst for ale (of all things), followed by darkness.
