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There's a growl on her end this time though she tries to rein it in at the tail end of it. She doesn't want to answer that question because she knows that to some degree his defeat is something that would bring her...not joy, but maybe a sense of satisfaction. That she can finally put that chapter to rest and spare many other innocent bystanders from being caught in the fray.

"If that's what you really believe then you should stop treating others as if they're just...dispensable pieces."

Reason with him? Ha. Is it worth a shot? Who knows. It's not an avenue she's ever tried before. She's never really taken the opportunity.

She is not the only one who has never tried; he is not someone people Reason With. Attempt to mollify, yes. Capitulate to, certainly. But not Reason With.

"I cannot value that which has no worth." he retorts; there is more than a note of defensiveness in his tone, a deep discomfort with how quick she is to dispute those things he considers immutable facts (as he has said, he does hate to disappoint her)."If they would be considered, let them first show us that which merits consideration."

That he sees them as immutable facts is something she has such a hard time with. There is certainly no small amount of hypocrisy in her own outlook, how she values life as something willing to fight for and preserve yet doesn't hesitate to cut down the people that stand in her way. Despite being one of the few White Mages left, she has harmed just as many if not more than she has healed.

"Just because you cannot see their worth doesn't mean they don't have any." It's almost a little snappy. "The food you eat and the clothes you wear--those were made possible by other people. Surely those people don't need to validate themselves to you?"

"Very well, let us humour each other then." She will feel, as much as hear, the change in his stance; it is as if he leans forward, shoulders raised and head lowered, like a cat preparing to pounce. "The person who made your clothes - assuming it is not one of your wretched coterie. Do you know their name? The circumstances of their birth? Their deepest aspirations? Do you lie awake wondering whether they had a good day or bad?"

He looks at the shard much the same way he did her, when they met in that other place, before he hatched here; again, there is that sense of predator circling dangerous prey. "Or did they cease to exist the moment their function - providing you with said clothes - was complete? Do you, in point of fact, think of them less often, and with less fondness, than you do your cane?"

She does feel it--it's as if his gaze is set on her even though he's malms away. She sucks in a sharp breath despite herself.

And yet...it's a valid question, all things considered, and one she is uniquely qualified to answer. Himeka is far from perfect and has moved on from people she met years ago, but if there is one thing she has always been good at, it's getting integrated into the local community from the bottom up.

"...My furs were provided by a man named Harold--he hunts with his daughter and they skin the animals too. She wants to be an archer. The leathers are aged by a pair of siblings who were also taught by their parents. One of them loves spicy food and the other one cannot handle it. It's become a game between them to sneak peppers in to see if the other will notice before they take that fatal bite. My sandals were put together by a woman named Cerna--she wasn't very friendly, but she does good work. When I ran into her later I found out that her grandson was sick so all her concern was spent on him and her family. I offered what I could, though as you know white magicks don't cure illness."

Himeka exhales long and low.

"I won't pretend to know everyone and I may not know every aspect of their life, but I wouldn't have made it as far as I have if hundreds of people hadn't helped me get there."

He listens in silence; his stance shifts again, eyes closed rather than trained on the shard, the hand wrapped around that crystal now pressed to his forehead, elbow propped up upon knee. Sonder is not a word he knows, nor a realisation he is entirely ready to commit to, but perhaps there are the smallest of baby-steps being made in that direction.

There is a long pause (both to be certain she is done speaking, and to gather his own thoughts) before he speaks. In his mind, at least (perhaps not in hers?) they are back, once again, at the edge of the universe and the end of all things, simultaneously mere yalms apart and separated by an eternity, and it is the same weary melancholy which laces his tone.

"I had thought us one and the same, Beast, but that does a disservice to us both, does it not? Your capacity to care for every wretched creature that crosses your path, the affection with which you view their tedious trivialities, is..."

He trails off. Because that's the thing, isn't it? It simply Is, and that is revelation enough, and does not need to be cheapened with a poorly-picked adjective incapable of doing the thing justice.

Another pause. He clears his throat. "There is to be an excursion. Those Aions already ensconced here wish to show we new arrivals all that Achamoth has to offer. I had not intended going..." The but you would if you were here, wouldn't you? hangs unspoken.

She expects some sort of rebuttal. Perhaps a note that it isn't enough, that she will soon forget them when she moves on to her next task. Himeka does not keep contact with all the lives she has come across, nor would she truly be able to, but she does try to hold a piece of them with her.

Himeka is a mosaic of every person she has ever met.

But he...relents. Almost. And it gives Himeka her own pause. Yes, he still calls other people "wretched creatures" but it feels that he had actually listened and considered what she's said.

What he says next is curious too. Is he asking for her...suggestion on the matter? Whether or not he should spend time with his colleagues? Himeka frowns, her own feelings as standoffish as they had been in the beginning, laced in thinly veiled confusion. This conversation has taken turns she couldn't have anticipated and she has to ask herself...would it be...productive? For Zenos to relate to others? Or only drive him further to the Regent's cause?

...No, no she knows there are good people over there. People have only fallen into despair, who have given up. That doesn't mean she or anyone else has to give up on them.

After a long moment, she finally speaks.

"...I hear it's a great city."

It does not strike him as odd he would seek her opinion - that she is his first, best and possibly only friend is a sad indictment of a Garlean childhood, yes, but is also an undeniable fact, and the credence he grants her opinion is fittingly substantial. He may not always agree - indeed, he frequently does not - but understanding how Himeka thinks has been an interest (some would, rightly, say an obsession) for some time now.

Another series of images, very similar to the first though now more definitively Not Garlemald, none of his memories bleeding in around the edges; dark spires reaching upwards, seemingly endless spiral staircases, figures in masks (some throwing gems, or flower petals, other beseeching a blessing), a brief flash of the room he currently occupies. Lavish though this scenery is, this very much does not feel like he is boasting - indeed, there is a weary boredom to it, as if cycling through particularly uninteresting holiday snaps or discussing what he intends to have for dinner that evening.

"Thus far I have seen little to recommend it." A beat. Where previous inquiries have been very obviously fishing for tactical information, this one is... almost conversational? "Where you are is far less tedious, I trust?"

[Estinien will have been gone for the better part of a day, during the time that infections are truly beginning to show themselves among Aions. Eventually, Himeka will feel the tickle of his presence in her shard.]

Himeka...

[Though all he projects is her name, the emotions accompanying it are twisted and off-kilter. It doesn't feel much like his usual self, even though it's clearly his presence.]

[ Himeka still feels much like herself and the wave of concern that flows back towards him is palpable. She pulls out her shard unworried about proprietaries in a city half-inhabited by the lost. ]

Estinien?

[ It's probably obvious, but... ]

Is everything okay?

I can't find you...

[Having said that seems nonsensical a moment later, but it's true, isn't it? Why is making sense of what's happening to him so difficult? His confusion bleeds through the connection, his mind straying even as he tries to communicate with her.

What is he talking about, again? She'll feel him question himself immediately. He needs help, another part answers. He's lost and can't find anyone to help him.]

Something is happening to me... the illness?

[These thoughts barely come across as words, but it's enough to understand.]

[ They parted ways a while ago, but they have always trusted one another to attend to their respective duties with or without immediate support. To hear this, though--to feel this is something else...

She's not sure she will be fully used to this. But while feeling Zenos' own strange array of emotions is one thing, feeling Estinien so lost and confused makes her heart constrict on itself. ]

I can come to you. I can help.

[ What she can do, she isn't sure. Her healing magicks haven't cured anyone, only helped heal any injuries incurred along the way. But damn if she won't do whatever she can for her friends. Her family. ]

[His communications devolve away from words entirely, drifting into disjointed concepts and worries. He's trying to tell her where he is, but all he can summon up is vague concepts of 'Veneran streets' with no landmarks or meaningful descriptions. He's been walking, but in what direction? Towards the center, or towards the outskirts?

He doesn't know, and her offer to come to him only makes him more distraught. He wants her help but doesn't know how to get it, as the affliction gradually tears apart his ability to think critically. All that he knows is that he hurting and he's lost and he's sick, his body making it hard to keep going.]

Himeka...

[At a loss for anything else, he thinks her name again, as if doing so will bring her to him.]

[ A confused slurry of different images, none of them connecting to any concrete location in Venera. But it doesn't stop her from starting to walk again, looking up at any edifice that sparks an inkling of familiarity. ]

Just...keep talking to me, okay? Please?

[ She tries to keep the panic out of her voice which she has become extremely adept at over the years, but the way her heart is picking up pace beguiles it. ]

[Physically, his hand clenches clumsily around his shard, his fingers barely able to more enough to hold it. Now that he's opened his communication line he doesn't want to let it go. Speaking to someone is the only thing that's grounding him, that's keeping him from disappearing into his own head for another indeterminant amount of time.

So, he tries. As he continues muddling together images to give her a sense of where he is, he considers making his physical presence more obvious, but that plan is immediately curtailed by worries of who else might find him. There are others out here, his scattered thoughts imply to her - someone touched him and made everything worse, as if sapping the strength from his body and mind. He's afraid to be caught again. He doens't know what will become of him if they do.

He will wait for her, though. This connection is a lifeline.]

[ She knows enough by now that touch and close contact are enough to spread the illness, though she has managed to forestall the symptoms herself for now. (Or so she believes.)

The continuing images don't help much, but they are an indication that he's trying. Whether he can't find the words or isn't able to speak now scares her a bit. The thought of Estinien turning to that catatonic state--

--Halric had watched death stare him right in the face, unblinking and unhurried by his imminent demise--

Himeka swallows. ]

I'm coming. I promise.

[ If she needs to walk the whole city she will.

If he isn't able to talk, maybe she should...keep his attention. ]

Once I find you we'll have something to eat first, alright? I made more grapes today.

[ Please say you can still hear me. ]

[For a moment, the lack of recognition is deafening. The mention of the grapes raises nothing but the mental equivalent of a question mark, until, finally...

No. He remembers. He remembers the silly little things, an invention that only failed to startle him because it came from her. His recollection of the fruit's odd shape will come across through their connection, as well as the relief associated with it.]

...Very well.

[Or maybe that word is 'as you like' or maybe it's 'thank you'. He's having a hard time narrowing his thoughts to coherent words, but the concepts are still there, with a tinge of humor, despite it all.]

[ There's relief flowing from her side. That's the Estinien she knows...however dark their circumstances, he's always had a strange sense of humor. One that she jived with nearly instantly. There's warmth emanating from their connection and she continues to push it towards him as she continues her search.

Yet there is still no sign of him. She continues to check in with Estinien, trying to keep the conversation going, but even Himeka is running out of things to ramble about. So instead she begins to hum a tune she learned during her stay in Ishgard, hoping that will be enough to keep his attention. ]

[At first Estinien finds himself wandering that open street, wondering if he will see her around each corner... but the longer it goes on, the less he can keep focused on the task of looking. Gradually he slows, and then stops, her occasional check-ins the only thing reminding him of what he was trying to do in the first place. The sound of her voice, her song, is a double-edged sword. It brings him comfort, and reminds him of her - yet, in some ways, that comfort is as deadly as anything else.

He stays with her, scattered feelings and thoughts occasionally coming in response, but gradually slowing. He stands in the middle of the street, his shard clenched in hand, staring at nothing. It would make him easier for her to find, he thought. Unfortunately, it also made him easier to be caught.

A lull in his focus is interrupted by a sudden punctuation of panic and fear. It's a psychic cry of pain, a wordless plea for help.]

[ That the connection continues to dwindle on his end is a cause for concern but she has to keep going. Venera is big, she realizes--much too big and she doesn't know these streets well enough. With no mounts at her disposal she's left to travel on foot which is far from ideal.

It's Estinien, though...maybe he's on a roof of some sor-- ]

Estinien!?

[Whatever is happening has shocked him back into some form of lucidity, his consciousness becoming far more present with this surge of desperation and need. He reaches out to her with everything he has, projecting the idea of him being attacked, knocked down, his shard under threat-

But that's all he can do. He can't do anything but cry out and struggle, praying that she'll make it in time even though it's becoming abundantly clear that she won't.]

Himeka!

[It all happens so quickly. As desperate as he is to keep hold of this lifeline, circumstances have conspired to sever it. If he doesn't protect his shard now, it will most likely end up crushed on the ground.]

Forgive me...

[Sorry for being helpless, sorry for leaving another burden at her feet. Their connection ends as he forces his shard back into his chest, unsure if he'll survive to see her again.]

Edited 2022-05-21 06:03 (UTC)

It's information--whether or not it will prove useful is something else entirely, but she makes note of it all the same. Zenos isn't someone she believes would really care much for the opulence that's been bestowed upon him no matter how used to it he is and the feelings that accompany those quick flashes confirm those thoughts. If the Regent can provide him something of interest he could be a powerful and useful tool to that cause, but he won't be bought with satin and silk.

Were it nearly anyone else Himeka would feel the need to offer something in kind. But this is Zenos. No matter how casually he may be taking this exchange, she cannot.

"Mayhaps." It's a non-answer, guarded as she needs to be. He may get an occasional flash of a tree or a hammock despite her best efforts to clear her mind, but nothing particularly telling. "I don't think you'd enjoy it."

"Don't try to visit," is the real meaning there.

"I am certain I could find something to recommend it."

The implication being, of course, that he's already considering how best to track her down.

There's a brief pause before he adds "Your Coerthan companion, for instance." This, more than anything else he's shared so far, feels closer to Intelligence than Chatter, though ultimately the desire not to reveal plans-in-progress to an enemy loses to the much more pressing one to have someone acknowledge quite how gross an injustice it is that Estinien's name has been placed above hers on the Kenoman Kill List. "I understand he is building quite the formidable reputation."

[ Their time in Venera has been... busy, to say the least, but today had certainly taken the cake. When the dust settles, so to speak, Alphinaud goes to seek out Himeka, wherever she may be. And once he finds her: ]

... Ah, there you are. Good.

[ The plan has been set to go to the Shrine of the Firebrand in homes of resurrecting their friend. There is some confidence, at least, in the fact that as long as one's shard is intact they are not truly lost, but they won't know until they see it for themselves.

She won't be in Venera much longer, eager to begin the process. Standing near one of the city's overlooks, she holds Estinien's shard in her hand, still amazed that their friend could be brought down to such a little thing.

When she hears his voice, Himeka turns around, offering Alphinaud a smile. ]

How are the others faring?

[ Having Alphinaud around, an extremely experienced healer in his own right, is certainly a boon for the cause. ]

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During "The Cost of Innocence"

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