((This post follows the events of this thread.))
--
An unknown amount of time after the events of Ishgard...
It was an odd thing, to see one's own memories outside of the mind's eye. Kasrjin saw the various moments flit up in front of what could only vaguely be called his vision; bubbles holding images and colours, silent in the void. Each one resonated with the brilliance of a star, so brilliant that it almost hurt to stare directly at it, and though Kasrjin could only afford to glance out of the corner of his eye, the scenes playing out within them were crystal clear.
Tsanai, her face panicked and anguished, pushing against his shoulders. Her mouth was open and moving, as if she was screaming something, though the sphere of light holding the image emitted no sound.
Alaqu held the thick sleeve of her robe to her face, attempting to stymie the flow of tears from her eyes.
The Tsenkhai, all emerging from a wall of polished black granite. Shimmering robes, flowing in the wind. The gold. The white. The black. The red. The cloth and fur and fabric streams across their bodies like water.
Alaqu took his hand, as she accompanied Kasrjin into Karaad-El. One million searing cores of radiance burned white hot, banishing all falsehoods. Kasrjin could see himself, see the perfect black sphere being pulled from within his chest. Alaqu rendered her evidence, and the dissident is found instantly guilty.
The spherical memories floated away, away, into an endless void and towards a mass of milky-white mist. The mist extended tendrils, yawning, groaning for any source of light. And then the sounds of the memories followed.
"You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here..!"
"Then Kaizhan is..."
"All shall be well. All shall be well."
"Our Will comes at last, as a storm crosses sea."
And then, the world fell away. Kasrjin felt himself being pulled forward, away from Alaqu, away from the sleet-covered tundra and the nested valley in the mountains, away from the reeling stars racing across a veil of night. Kasrjin felt his limbs stretch, and in front of him was a mirror. An unfamiliar Xaela. A face, a body, mangled and torn. An old Khadai warrior, brought low before his time. The warmth of the sun radiated upon him, as the mass of white mist descended upon him.
And then, a wide room of polished bronze. Above him, the lights shimmered, curdled, harmony enforced and silence unbroken. The lights have reached an agreement, and as they flickered away, Kasrjin immediately understood. No star would be taking him this time, or any time. He was a trophy, a memento, a flambeaux. He had been accorded the highest possible honour, pinned to a high place, to forever illuminate the antechamber of a place and time far greater than he. And there he would remain, always. High, cold, eternal, immobile, minuscule, meaningless.
Though he could not feel his face, a smile crossed it. For its part, duty endured. And all was well.
--
None had bothered to chain her, for the shackles of her mind were heavy enough. She was permitted to keep her simple robes, for any meaning they held had evaporated. Tsanai knelt on the floor of her yurt, feeling the sensation of the frozen soil, her eyes closed, her breathing steady. The sounds of her people resonated. The Jungsai hunters, comparing trophies of the slain. The Yerenai tending to herbs and foodstuffs. The Erdegai, working on their crafts and works. And the Aljai, organizing all of it.
Tsanai's yurt protected her from the slight but chill breeze. It was a sensation she would have to remember on her own, for the rest of her life.
There was to be no ceremony, no public procession, no fanfare, for Tsanai knew that her people were a people of excessive practicality. A male Xaela, expression severe and dressed in blood red robes, entered her yurt and knelt in front of her. Tsanai's eyes opened slowly, deliberately.
"You are to be exiled," the male said tersely. "Karaad-El considered more...vindictive judgments, but whether by accident or intention, you have returned the Correspondence to a state of relative normalcy. For that, a mercy is to be granted."
Tsanai nodded. Then at least some good had come from this. For a split second, the visions she saw flashed into her mind again. Scars, secrets, chains. Flesh, mirrors, blood. Blood, blood, blood. Crimson, welling, flowing.
The voice of the male Xaela brought her out of her brief catatonia. "The Aljai will bring you to Reunion, in the Azim Steppe, during the summer exchange. From there, your fate is your own. Karaad-El will keep your link dormant as a contingency, but otherwise, consider your obligations at an end." With that, the male stood up to leave, peeling back the flap of the yurt.
"And what of...him?" Tsanai rasped. For reasons she couldn't begin to explain, Kasrjin's name caught in her throat. Perhaps she dare not speak it, or perhaps she meant to ask after the body that Kasrjin had been occupying. The male Xaela was stopped by her inquiry.
"As of now, such knowledge is not relevant to you. Though, the Tsenkhai assumed you would ask about him." Though the Xaela's face showed no emotion, Tsanai could see the barest hint of smugness in the male's eyes. "Karaad-El will keep him safe. I expect that such measures will be more effective than yours."
Tsanai's eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but she quickly fixed her composure as the male left, composure that swiftly cracked and broke as soon as the flap to her yurt had closed to guard her from the wind once again.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Blood, blood, so much blood. In the months before Kasrjin returned with the keystone, an untold number of Xaela failed to awaken from the Communion. At the urging of the Tsenkhai, Karaad-El had taken as many souls as it needed to recover. The Correspondence had grown erratic, unreliable. Luckily, the black ones had retreated, but that was only one trouble struck from an exceedingly long list.
A reckoning. Every time Tsanai closed her eyes, she could see the vision she saw on the day of the blizzard. Tsuven would have his reckoning, and now his vessel was within the halls of granite and mist. Avenged, avenged, avenged. But avenged upon who? Karaad-El? Her people? Herself? He would avenge himself, treachery repaid, tears dried and screams silenced. Was this intended? Would she be saved? Could she be saved?
Blood, blood, blood. His form, chained and bound to a bed of molten metal. Gaping maws reaching forth, greedily pulling his essence. A thousand stars, dancing with joy at their new captive, all the while ignoring the flicker that threatened to grow into a flame.
Reunion. In four moons' time, Tsanai would be taken to Reunion. Primitive tribes, ignorant foreigners, and crude beasts occupying a plain of sun and sand. For them, she cared not. But if she could save her people, she would.
Perhaps it was time to meet others, and continue.
((Concluded...?))
--
An unknown amount of time after the events of Ishgard...
It was an odd thing, to see one's own memories outside of the mind's eye. Kasrjin saw the various moments flit up in front of what could only vaguely be called his vision; bubbles holding images and colours, silent in the void. Each one resonated with the brilliance of a star, so brilliant that it almost hurt to stare directly at it, and though Kasrjin could only afford to glance out of the corner of his eye, the scenes playing out within them were crystal clear.
Tsanai, her face panicked and anguished, pushing against his shoulders. Her mouth was open and moving, as if she was screaming something, though the sphere of light holding the image emitted no sound.
Alaqu held the thick sleeve of her robe to her face, attempting to stymie the flow of tears from her eyes.
The Tsenkhai, all emerging from a wall of polished black granite. Shimmering robes, flowing in the wind. The gold. The white. The black. The red. The cloth and fur and fabric streams across their bodies like water.
Alaqu took his hand, as she accompanied Kasrjin into Karaad-El. One million searing cores of radiance burned white hot, banishing all falsehoods. Kasrjin could see himself, see the perfect black sphere being pulled from within his chest. Alaqu rendered her evidence, and the dissident is found instantly guilty.
The spherical memories floated away, away, into an endless void and towards a mass of milky-white mist. The mist extended tendrils, yawning, groaning for any source of light. And then the sounds of the memories followed.
"You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here..!"
"Then Kaizhan is..."
"All shall be well. All shall be well."
"Our Will comes at last, as a storm crosses sea."
And then, the world fell away. Kasrjin felt himself being pulled forward, away from Alaqu, away from the sleet-covered tundra and the nested valley in the mountains, away from the reeling stars racing across a veil of night. Kasrjin felt his limbs stretch, and in front of him was a mirror. An unfamiliar Xaela. A face, a body, mangled and torn. An old Khadai warrior, brought low before his time. The warmth of the sun radiated upon him, as the mass of white mist descended upon him.
And then, a wide room of polished bronze. Above him, the lights shimmered, curdled, harmony enforced and silence unbroken. The lights have reached an agreement, and as they flickered away, Kasrjin immediately understood. No star would be taking him this time, or any time. He was a trophy, a memento, a flambeaux. He had been accorded the highest possible honour, pinned to a high place, to forever illuminate the antechamber of a place and time far greater than he. And there he would remain, always. High, cold, eternal, immobile, minuscule, meaningless.
Though he could not feel his face, a smile crossed it. For its part, duty endured. And all was well.
--
None had bothered to chain her, for the shackles of her mind were heavy enough. She was permitted to keep her simple robes, for any meaning they held had evaporated. Tsanai knelt on the floor of her yurt, feeling the sensation of the frozen soil, her eyes closed, her breathing steady. The sounds of her people resonated. The Jungsai hunters, comparing trophies of the slain. The Yerenai tending to herbs and foodstuffs. The Erdegai, working on their crafts and works. And the Aljai, organizing all of it.
Tsanai's yurt protected her from the slight but chill breeze. It was a sensation she would have to remember on her own, for the rest of her life.
There was to be no ceremony, no public procession, no fanfare, for Tsanai knew that her people were a people of excessive practicality. A male Xaela, expression severe and dressed in blood red robes, entered her yurt and knelt in front of her. Tsanai's eyes opened slowly, deliberately.
"You are to be exiled," the male said tersely. "Karaad-El considered more...vindictive judgments, but whether by accident or intention, you have returned the Correspondence to a state of relative normalcy. For that, a mercy is to be granted."
Tsanai nodded. Then at least some good had come from this. For a split second, the visions she saw flashed into her mind again. Scars, secrets, chains. Flesh, mirrors, blood. Blood, blood, blood. Crimson, welling, flowing.
The voice of the male Xaela brought her out of her brief catatonia. "The Aljai will bring you to Reunion, in the Azim Steppe, during the summer exchange. From there, your fate is your own. Karaad-El will keep your link dormant as a contingency, but otherwise, consider your obligations at an end." With that, the male stood up to leave, peeling back the flap of the yurt.
"And what of...him?" Tsanai rasped. For reasons she couldn't begin to explain, Kasrjin's name caught in her throat. Perhaps she dare not speak it, or perhaps she meant to ask after the body that Kasrjin had been occupying. The male Xaela was stopped by her inquiry.
"As of now, such knowledge is not relevant to you. Though, the Tsenkhai assumed you would ask about him." Though the Xaela's face showed no emotion, Tsanai could see the barest hint of smugness in the male's eyes. "Karaad-El will keep him safe. I expect that such measures will be more effective than yours."
Tsanai's eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but she quickly fixed her composure as the male left, composure that swiftly cracked and broke as soon as the flap to her yurt had closed to guard her from the wind once again.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Blood, blood, so much blood. In the months before Kasrjin returned with the keystone, an untold number of Xaela failed to awaken from the Communion. At the urging of the Tsenkhai, Karaad-El had taken as many souls as it needed to recover. The Correspondence had grown erratic, unreliable. Luckily, the black ones had retreated, but that was only one trouble struck from an exceedingly long list.
A reckoning. Every time Tsanai closed her eyes, she could see the vision she saw on the day of the blizzard. Tsuven would have his reckoning, and now his vessel was within the halls of granite and mist. Avenged, avenged, avenged. But avenged upon who? Karaad-El? Her people? Herself? He would avenge himself, treachery repaid, tears dried and screams silenced. Was this intended? Would she be saved? Could she be saved?
Blood, blood, blood. His form, chained and bound to a bed of molten metal. Gaping maws reaching forth, greedily pulling his essence. A thousand stars, dancing with joy at their new captive, all the while ignoring the flicker that threatened to grow into a flame.
Reunion. In four moons' time, Tsanai would be taken to Reunion. Primitive tribes, ignorant foreigners, and crude beasts occupying a plain of sun and sand. For them, she cared not. But if she could save her people, she would.
Perhaps it was time to meet others, and continue.
((Concluded...?))
