He... is. He is. Lost in the sea of emotional turmoil, despite the meaning of Xehanort's question- interest that this is an alternate world's Elidibus- it hits home. It brings a discordant shriek of rage to the dark emotions swirling in a vortex and threatening to consume him.
He is nothing more than a Primal manifestation. Yet why does the truth still pain him? The coil of his arm slackens a little in Xehanort's grip. But after a few moments and thanks to the precaution that was taken before they started across the river, it has time to tighten again.
It's true after all. The inundation of negative emotions may be distraction, but there is no true audible 'volume' to it. Bitter dregs of a bitten back statement of how there can be only one scatter through the current. Xehanort.... does not speak of Elidibus's own timeline but another.
"You've met me... before?" Not him that's true. But given his inability to keep his memories intact, it hardly makes much difference wether it's himself or an alternate universe in the end. How acutely can Xehanort see? There is a trace of tears that have managed to express themselves from underneath the mask. His guide speaks of a duty; one he has not forgotten by any means. After all, it existed in the dark emotions poured over him in the crossing. In his breath and every step, nearly every thought. So much so that even the entity that trapped them had barely shifted his core purpose in the false backstory of this fake Star.
"My duty. Yes, I remember it." Profound grief momentarily roars into existence. "My people. My... dear friends." Brittle grief, like fragile ice threatening to shatter and plunge them both into dark, frigid waters. The 'sound' of love doesn't accompany it.
Yet in Elidibus' tone it is wholly present.
But hope cannot be heard either. What he is and embodies; yet the emotional storm seems to ebb ever so slightly- at least in the accounting of twelve millennia. The chaotic river remains. Emotion remains. But the Ascian has found something to anchor himself.
"I am their hope. My.. hope. And mankind's salvation. Though they have all gone before me there is still much I can do." Whether that purpose would be to press on or find a different way is not voiced.
What is important is that he has a renewed sense of purpose and is fighting against the influence of the crossing again. He progress forward is more assured, though he is careful to hang on to the other man.
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He is nothing more than a Primal manifestation. Yet why does the truth still pain him? The coil of his arm slackens a little in Xehanort's grip. But after a few moments and thanks to the precaution that was taken before they started across the river, it has time to tighten again.
It's true after all. The inundation of negative emotions may be distraction, but there is no true audible 'volume' to it. Bitter dregs of a bitten back statement of how there can be only one scatter through the current. Xehanort.... does not speak of Elidibus's own timeline but another.
"You've met me... before?" Not him that's true. But given his inability to keep his memories intact, it hardly makes much difference wether it's himself or an alternate universe in the end. How acutely can Xehanort see? There is a trace of tears that have managed to express themselves from underneath the mask. His guide speaks of a duty; one he has not forgotten by any means. After all, it existed in the dark emotions poured over him in the crossing. In his breath and every step, nearly every thought. So much so that even the entity that trapped them had barely shifted his core purpose in the false backstory of this fake Star.
"My duty. Yes, I remember it." Profound grief momentarily roars into existence. "My people. My... dear friends." Brittle grief, like fragile ice threatening to shatter and plunge them both into dark, frigid waters. The 'sound' of love doesn't accompany it.
Yet in Elidibus' tone it is wholly present.
But hope cannot be heard either. What he is and embodies; yet the emotional storm seems to ebb ever so slightly- at least in the accounting of twelve millennia. The chaotic river remains. Emotion remains. But the Ascian has found something to anchor himself.
"I am their hope. My.. hope. And mankind's salvation. Though they have all gone before me there is still much I can do." Whether that purpose would be to press on or find a different way is not voiced.
What is important is that he has a renewed sense of purpose and is fighting against the influence of the crossing again. He progress forward is more assured, though he is careful to hang on to the other man.