[After the agonizingly long and silent walk over to a place of privacy, Urianger wastes no time in answering Thancred’s question. He keeps his voice even and calm, as ever. Thancred deserves this much.]
It did. Though not without resistance from Meteion, as I presume thou art well aware.
[He certainly can’t forget her sudden appearance in the middle of the control room, immediately draining the air from their lungs.
He brings a hand to his chest.]
She very well could have put an end to our mission ere we reached Ultima Thule, if not for thy valiant act of opposition.
Aye, I remember that. Meteor pointed her out the moment she appeared. Toying with us.
[He remembers them dropping to the ground, one after the other, hands to their throats. Powerless. Her voice still echoes from the fog, like a mockery, like a claw reaching into their chests.
"Suffocated and extinguished."]
I could still lift my blade. So I acted in the only way I felt I could.
[Except he can't recall his blade ever making contact. A moment of immense clarity with her as his only focus, the next a muddled mess of nothing but feeling, barely tangible in his mind's eye... and after--
...]
Whatever happened after that moment, I can't remember. If it stalled her... stopped her... then far be it from me to have any sorts of regrets. [It's a distant statement. Flat. He means every word, and yet what remains unsaid feels like it can't be real.]
...
And here we both are, despite it. [There's a cautious sharpness to how his eyes trace Urianger as he says that. Eager to get the topic off of himself.] What happened?
[Here they both are, indeed. It’s because of this that Urianger’s able to keep himself as put together as he is. Goodness knows that the floodgates would be threatening to give way if he was here alone to dwell on things, no matter how little he regrets what he did.]
…When we came to, we had arrived at our destination. We stepped foot upon Ultima Thule—tread upon its barren soil with air to sustain us. Yet the absence of one was immediately felt.
[His eyes drift from the ground to Thancred.]
Thine.
[And just like that, his gaze drifts once more, eyelids eventually sliding closed.]
Meteion would appear once more to inform us that we yet breathed because thou hadst given thy life for the very air that filled our lungs.
[…]
This would not be the only sacrifice made in the effort to progress further into the depths of Ultima Thule.
[Estinien. Y’shtola. Himself. All named for a reason.]
[He stays silent, attentive, meeting that gaze when it finally falls on him despite what Urianger's words confirm. His expression twists with tension, but not with surprise.
It doesn't feel real. It doesn't feel acceptable. He'd warned Meteor to knock some sense into him, that gut feeling that he'd do something he might not be able to take back.
[Sweet, sweet fool. Alisaie's little name, still true after so much time, the best of intentions delivered so calmly, and yet Thancred's chest still burns as hands reach out to grip him by his arms. It's quiet at first, but the intensity climbs quick.]
Tell me-- tell me that was said in jest. Any of it. There should have been something - anything else to do than to let so many of you drift...! You and Y'shtola especially, you're smarter than that!
[His palms shake as his grip tightens.]
Don't speak as though you, that any of you, are a bargaining chip!
It's wrong, to direct this at them. He knows it, and it keeps his moment of anger wild and unpointed. He knows, trusts, that Urianger had seen enough of his share of loss under his own hands to not want to keep the sacrifices rolling. But the thought of them gone adrift, people he'd known for so, so long now... it digs lines red and raw through his chest. Good men and women, all. Deserving more.
...
His swallow is tense and tight. But as suddenly as the anger comes, Thancred deflates just as fast, releasing his tension against Urianger's arms with an exhale. His head tilts forward, trained to the grass.]
I will not stand for anymore of this, Urianger. Please.
Whatever reason the Twelve may have to let us drift into awareness... gods, we cannot waste it.
[Urianger gasps as Thancred takes hold of him. Winces at his biting words. It hurts his heart, terribly. He, more than most, would know the pain of sacrifice—of failing to prevent it, of orchestrating it, and of being complicit in it.
But he lets Thancred finish. Once that anger burns away and Thancred loosens his grip, Urianger reaches to return it. It’s gentler, but still firm—just like his voice.]
Thancred. I’ll not allow thee to speak this way in the wake of thine own sacrifice.
Prithee, look at me.
[He’ll continue whether or not Thancred does as he asks.]
Though our bodies may have been unmade, we have yet to cease existing in entirety. Our souls live on.
[He gives Thancred’s arms a squeeze, gazing down at him with conviction.]
We are not lost.
Thus did Estinien, Y’shtola and myself act with the hope that our comrades may go on to succeed. ‘Twas truly the only option to combat the overwhelming despair that Meteion hath cultivated within Ultima Thule.
[He breathes out a sigh. He knows it’s not a perfect solution. He knows there’s a real possibility that there won’t be a way for them to come back. But he still doesn’t regret it.]
While I do agree with thee, that we should do everything that we can in this place, I implore thee to consider that our previous actions were not wasteful.
[Urianger's plea drifts, Thancred not responding immediately. But his eyes do trail up in time. Too bright, too pained, but listening. Gripping tight to what sliver of hope Urianger gives, despite the tinge of guilt that quickly shadows him.
...
He lets it sit, churning in his mind. But a hand lifts to rest against Urianger's wrist in the interrim. This isn't the First. He knows, too deeply, the regret of leaving things unsaid, be they for good or ill.]
...I'm sorry.
I don't want to think they were. I don't. Gods know I trust all of you with my life for a reason, as I hope you would with me. To speak that you'd be careless...
...
[He respects Urianger more than that. Y'shtola and Estinien, too.
Another sigh, and the tension in his shoulders deflates further.]
Damn it all... Y'shtola would have my ear for acting like such a child, were she here. And I'd deserve every moment of her scolding.
Thou needn’t apologize. [He can’t really blame Thancred for being upset. He was too at first.] Thine understanding is what mattereth most to me.
[Tension leaves Urianger through a breath in turn, and he settles into a smile.
Trust… A delicate subject for Urianger by his own making. Not long ago, he didn’t consider himself worthy of his friends’ trust—Thancred chiefly among them. It’s a miracle and a mercy that he’s come to repair that trust.]
Of course I trust thee, more than I can rightly express. Now, let us trust our comrades in turn to see our hopes through.
[It's always such a fragile thing, to watch Urianger smile. Far more polite, far more patient he could ever be. Ugh. But it's a comfort of its own, even if it feels undeserved, and his lips quirk in response.]
It's all we can hope for. And I'd still like to believe there will never be folly in hoping. For those we can yet save. [Even if they are among those now lost.]
I suppose we did want to let the wind take us on our way, when it was all over. Maybe I should think to complain about its starting choice for locale.
[For those they can yet save, indeed. It earns a wider smile from Urianger before the topic changes entirely.]
'Twould be an endeavor of great effort on her part, laboring to hold us hither while in tandem taking every opportunity to forestall our comrades' approach.
This, of course, doth not include the additional variable of those trapped here with us- most from stars beyond our own.
[It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility from what he's seen Meteion be capable of, but hmmm.]
Precisely. While the effects of our awakening have all matched, I've met very few mentioning anything like the End of Days beforehand.
If she believes us to be truly out of the way in our state, then I'd question the need for her to continue the charade. [If Urianger was correct in Thancred's life being forfeit for a purpose, why wouldnt have Meteion simply undone the changes that sacrifice had made, had she deemed it enough of a threat? If she wouldn't go to those lengths then, then why convolute them now?]
It's not as though we know how to properly test if what led us here was even dynamis in the first place. An echoing feeling isn't much to go off of.
[He nods along in agreement with Thancred's assessment.]
From what I gathered while I was on Ultima Thule, she could do naught to stop us once we had overcome a trial. She could unmake us, but a path forward would appear nevertheless. Verily, I suspect another force is at play.
[And now that the subject has come up...]
An echoing feeling... Thou speakest of the nature of our arrival? What didst thou experience, in detail?
[He hums his affirmative, taking a second to collect his thoughts. To put a firm divider between the emotional and the practical felt as easy as ever, even now. Let the discomfort loom over his shoulder, and never give it the attention to dig in its claws further.
Not his best habit. But it's an easy one. Let the mind drift to problem solving, and leave all else behind.]
...You recall the last memories I had, yes?
What firm desires that still sat in my mind, just in those moments... I remember them repeated back to me. Pulled and distorted. Not quite a dream or voice, in the way of our dear G'raha, but a message all the same. Echoed, just the same as I'd felt in my own soul.
Nothing but muddied feelings after that. The messy, suffocating sort, the way grief tends. But even so... [A hand loosely lays low against his sternum, against the lingering ache of his ribs.] One of them felt odd.
[Thancred no!! Alas, Urianger is also descending into business mode... Old habits will never die for these long-standing scions.
He listens to Thancred's account, and by the time he's finished, he too finds himself with a hand upon his chest. It really brings those feelings right back to him like a terrible memory. Thancred definitely isn't the only one who experienced all of this. When he reaches that last, odd feeling, Urianger fills in the gap.]
...a hunger, pervasive and overwhelming in its ferocity.
As did mine, though it was a most unsettling sensation. Never have I felt anything quite like it.
[And, like Thancred, he's done the whole "being forcibly pulled into another world" thing before. Maybe it has to do with the fact that they didn't leave bodies behind this time? Far too early to tell.]
I am fine, for the time being. Though I am indeed concerned for the fates of our companions. The last I felt of Y'shtola was on Ultima Thule, as we gave ourselves to forge a path for the others. As everything faded into the blackness of the void, only that message could be heard.
...One has to wonder if something else truly is out there, waiting in all that fog.
[Whether it be Meteion, some residual effect of dynamis on their drifting souls... or something else. And the idea of something plucking them from their places like fruit from a tree is not a pleasant one to feel grow like vines through his chest...
He exhales firmly. If only the end goal were in sight with his own eyes. But they'd toasted to as much before their departure, hadn't they? To victory, their comrades, and the fate of the star.
To surviving. Somehow. Somehow.]
...
We'll learn no more of the others or our predicament by standing idle, at least.
I'll do what I can for further reconnaissance, though I make no promises. In the meantime... perhaps piecing together the stories of the others here will be a good enough starting point.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heartofcorundum) wrote2025-11-02 01:20 am
cw mention of asphyxiation
It did. Though not without resistance from Meteion, as I presume thou art well aware.
[He certainly can’t forget her sudden appearance in the middle of the control room, immediately draining the air from their lungs.
He brings a hand to his chest.]
She very well could have put an end to our mission ere we reached Ultima Thule, if not for thy valiant act of opposition.
cw mention of asphyxiation
[He remembers them dropping to the ground, one after the other, hands to their throats. Powerless. Her voice still echoes from the fog, like a mockery, like a claw reaching into their chests.
"Suffocated and extinguished."]
I could still lift my blade. So I acted in the only way I felt I could.
[Except he can't recall his blade ever making contact. A moment of immense clarity with her as his only focus, the next a muddled mess of nothing but feeling, barely tangible in his mind's eye... and after--
...]
Whatever happened after that moment, I can't remember. If it stalled her... stopped her... then far be it from me to have any sorts of regrets. [It's a distant statement. Flat. He means every word, and yet what remains unsaid feels like it can't be real.]
...
And here we both are, despite it. [There's a cautious sharpness to how his eyes trace Urianger as he says that. Eager to get the topic off of himself.] What happened?
no subject
…When we came to, we had arrived at our destination. We stepped foot upon Ultima Thule—tread upon its barren soil with air to sustain us. Yet the absence of one was immediately felt.
[His eyes drift from the ground to Thancred.]
Thine.
[And just like that, his gaze drifts once more, eyelids eventually sliding closed.]
Meteion would appear once more to inform us that we yet breathed because thou hadst given thy life for the very air that filled our lungs.
[…]
This would not be the only sacrifice made in the effort to progress further into the depths of Ultima Thule.
[Estinien. Y’shtola. Himself. All named for a reason.]
1/2
It doesn't feel real. It doesn't feel acceptable. He'd warned Meteor to knock some sense into him, that gut feeling that he'd do something he might not be able to take back.
Too late now. For the better, but--]
2/2
Bile rises in the back of Thancred's throat as dots connect just enough.]
...Surely not. [There's a bite to it. Quiet, hurt.] Surely Meteion didn't take all of you.
no subject
[It’s true that it’s hard news to share, but just this once, Urianger doesn’t appear to be crushed under the weight of it.]
We did not venture this far to fail, did we not?
Meteor and the others yet live. They shall work together to reach the end. This, I am certain of.
[…still, his shoulders sag.]
Scarcely did I expect to be informing thee of this beyond the veil, however.
1/2
[Sweet, sweet fool. Alisaie's little name, still true after so much time, the best of intentions delivered so calmly, and yet Thancred's chest still burns as hands reach out to grip him by his arms. It's quiet at first, but the intensity climbs quick.]
Tell me-- tell me that was said in jest. Any of it. There should have been something - anything else to do than to let so many of you drift...! You and Y'shtola especially, you're smarter than that!
[His palms shake as his grip tightens.]
Don't speak as though you, that any of you, are a bargaining chip!
[not again. not again.]
2/2
It's wrong, to direct this at them. He knows it, and it keeps his moment of anger wild and unpointed. He knows, trusts, that Urianger had seen enough of his share of loss under his own hands to not want to keep the sacrifices rolling. But the thought of them gone adrift, people he'd known for so, so long now... it digs lines red and raw through his chest. Good men and women, all. Deserving more.
...
His swallow is tense and tight. But as suddenly as the anger comes, Thancred deflates just as fast, releasing his tension against Urianger's arms with an exhale. His head tilts forward, trained to the grass.]
I will not stand for anymore of this, Urianger. Please.
Whatever reason the Twelve may have to let us drift into awareness... gods, we cannot waste it.
no subject
But he lets Thancred finish. Once that anger burns away and Thancred loosens his grip, Urianger reaches to return it. It’s gentler, but still firm—just like his voice.]
Thancred. I’ll not allow thee to speak this way in the wake of thine own sacrifice.
Prithee, look at me.
[He’ll continue whether or not Thancred does as he asks.]
Though our bodies may have been unmade, we have yet to cease existing in entirety. Our souls live on.
[He gives Thancred’s arms a squeeze, gazing down at him with conviction.]
We are not lost.
Thus did Estinien, Y’shtola and myself act with the hope that our comrades may go on to succeed. ‘Twas truly the only option to combat the overwhelming despair that Meteion hath cultivated within Ultima Thule.
[He breathes out a sigh. He knows it’s not a perfect solution. He knows there’s a real possibility that there won’t be a way for them to come back. But he still doesn’t regret it.]
While I do agree with thee, that we should do everything that we can in this place, I implore thee to consider that our previous actions were not wasteful.
no subject
[Urianger's plea drifts, Thancred not responding immediately. But his eyes do trail up in time. Too bright, too pained, but listening. Gripping tight to what sliver of hope Urianger gives, despite the tinge of guilt that quickly shadows him.
...
He lets it sit, churning in his mind. But a hand lifts to rest against Urianger's wrist in the interrim. This isn't the First. He knows, too deeply, the regret of leaving things unsaid, be they for good or ill.]
...I'm sorry.
I don't want to think they were. I don't. Gods know I trust all of you with my life for a reason, as I hope you would with me. To speak that you'd be careless...
...
[He respects Urianger more than that. Y'shtola and Estinien, too.
Another sigh, and the tension in his shoulders deflates further.]
Damn it all... Y'shtola would have my ear for acting like such a child, were she here. And I'd deserve every moment of her scolding.
1/2
[Tension leaves Urianger through a breath in turn, and he settles into a smile.
Trust… A delicate subject for Urianger by his own making. Not long ago, he didn’t consider himself worthy of his friends’ trust—Thancred chiefly among them. It’s a miracle and a mercy that he’s come to repair that trust.]
Of course I trust thee, more than I can rightly express. Now, let us trust our comrades in turn to see our hopes through.
no subject
I imagine she would have much to say, indeed.
I still find it strange that she hath not found her way hither as well. We went together…
[Just what’s going on with this place?]
1/2
It's all we can hope for. And I'd still like to believe there will never be folly in hoping. For those we can yet save. [Even if they are among those now lost.]
I suppose we did want to let the wind take us on our way, when it was all over. Maybe I should think to complain about its starting choice for locale.
2/2
Perhaps the aether flows differently here. Who knows what that might be doing to her sight.
If she's out there, we'll have to trust she'll find her way. The same with Estinien.
Truth be told, I'd wondered if Meteion was the one behind this farce when I first woke. But I'm beginning to have my doubts.
no subject
'Twould be an endeavor of great effort on her part, laboring to hold us hither while in tandem taking every opportunity to forestall our comrades' approach.
This, of course, doth not include the additional variable of those trapped here with us- most from stars beyond our own.
[It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility from what he's seen Meteion be capable of, but hmmm.]
no subject
If she believes us to be truly out of the way in our state, then I'd question the need for her to continue the charade. [If Urianger was correct in Thancred's life being forfeit for a purpose, why wouldnt have Meteion simply undone the changes that sacrifice had made, had she deemed it enough of a threat? If she wouldn't go to those lengths then, then why convolute them now?]
It's not as though we know how to properly test if what led us here was even dynamis in the first place. An echoing feeling isn't much to go off of.
no subject
From what I gathered while I was on Ultima Thule, she could do naught to stop us once we had overcome a trial. She could unmake us, but a path forward would appear nevertheless. Verily, I suspect another force is at play.
[And now that the subject has come up...]
An echoing feeling... Thou speakest of the nature of our arrival? What didst thou experience, in detail?
no subject
Not his best habit. But it's an easy one. Let the mind drift to problem solving, and leave all else behind.]
...You recall the last memories I had, yes?
What firm desires that still sat in my mind, just in those moments... I remember them repeated back to me. Pulled and distorted. Not quite a dream or voice, in the way of our dear G'raha, but a message all the same. Echoed, just the same as I'd felt in my own soul.
Nothing but muddied feelings after that. The messy, suffocating sort, the way grief tends. But even so... [A hand loosely lays low against his sternum, against the lingering ache of his ribs.] One of them felt odd.
no subject
He listens to Thancred's account, and by the time he's finished, he too finds himself with a hand upon his chest. It really brings those feelings right back to him like a terrible memory. Thancred definitely isn't the only one who experienced all of this. When he reaches that last, odd feeling, Urianger fills in the gap.]
...a hunger, pervasive and overwhelming in its ferocity.
[He looks to Thancred for confirmation.]
no subject
[Foreboding, but good to know that it wasn't limited to just himself.]
...How are you feeling? [yknow, get the interrogation off him for a second] Did you sense Y'shtola with you at all before you woke?
no subject
[And, like Thancred, he's done the whole "being forcibly pulled into another world" thing before. Maybe it has to do with the fact that they didn't leave bodies behind this time? Far too early to tell.]
I am fine, for the time being. Though I am indeed concerned for the fates of our companions. The last I felt of Y'shtola was on Ultima Thule, as we gave ourselves to forge a path for the others. As everything faded into the blackness of the void, only that message could be heard.
no subject
[Whether it be Meteion, some residual effect of dynamis on their drifting souls... or something else. And the idea of something plucking them from their places like fruit from a tree is not a pleasant one to feel grow like vines through his chest...
He exhales firmly. If only the end goal were in sight with his own eyes. But they'd toasted to as much before their departure, hadn't they? To victory, their comrades, and the fate of the star.
To surviving. Somehow. Somehow.]
...
We'll learn no more of the others or our predicament by standing idle, at least.
I'll do what I can for further reconnaissance, though I make no promises. In the meantime... perhaps piecing together the stories of the others here will be a good enough starting point.
no subject
[And they will find a way. They've proven themselves far more than capable. Not even the end of the universe is beyond their reach.
One step at a time, however. Even if it's a small step, it's something.]
I agree. Let us reconvene after we've learned more of our surrounds and those with us. I will do what I can.