middleofsomewhere | Wings of Wonder: NPC Interactions and Investigations

It will take time, the statue falling silent, not reaching out to Elidibus to try to engage. The energy being moved around, carefully split. Studied, as implied. Is he a patient person? Is he happy to wait here and witness the process for, say, ten minutes or so?

He can speak up, of course. Or, allow the being to do its thing.

It occurred to Elidibus that by 'study', the statue may have wanted to study rather than be studied at its work. But interrupting to ask for clarification didn't hold as much value as waiting and learning what he could by watching the task. The statue didn't seem to mind.

And given the reaction of this world's aether, any hint on how to work with it would be priceless. Even now the ambient air seemed to tug at the Ascian's senses. Easily ignored thanks to his vessel and the SCA but not completely disregarded.

As for patience, Elidibus can wait a mere handful of minutes. He is no youth in the spring of life, but an immortal who has dedicated more than twelve thousand years toward the task of restoring his world.

Even if he learns nothing immediately though, it is worth finding out what the statue ends up doing with that energy.

Edited 2021-09-13 11:15 (UTC)

Then attempt to watch, he can. There is some effort to keep it separated, from melding with the other energy, by the way it's traceable; a ball of thread, if being frayed at the edges, pulled out, their ends disappearing into the rest around it.

The energy around it shifts in turn, but it's not until about halfway through, that what it's attempting to do may become obvious. If Elidibus watches, feels, senses - there is a read, a signature, new, familiar yet foreign. An echo, mimicry. Some of the energy given by Elidibus has flowed and combine with the being, but there is an attempt to make more. Or at least, something close.

Behold, what may be marvellous for the time taken, but also: a rush job to make a more agreeable line of connection.

A feeling will finally come over Elidibus's hands, whether they lay still with the statue's or not. The sensation from before not as strong (and certainly, not the one that had turned his hands numb), but some level of protection has been coated over.

By it, if with a distance that doesn't penetrate the boundaries of Elidibus's being, the being can express by feeling. And with it, it expresses gratitude for one's presence.

Once more, Elidibus lifts his hands and sets them to the statue's. Once the construct has taken shape, he does understand its purpose. A better- not perfect but certainly better- means of communication. One that doesn't bear the discomfort of earlier. Though touch doesn't appear needed exactly, he does so in case it makes matters easier.

He is not fool to think the gratitude is for him alone.

"We seek to offer our aid," Elidibus affirms. "While we come from different worlds, our talents are varied. But we would not wish to bring harm nor misunderstanding in our efforts to help."

The Ascian has spent some time here already sure. BUt given others efforts at cutting back the plantlife and corralling loose animals, he feels it is negligible.

"What would you have me tell the others? How would you have us treat the people of this world?"

There is a pause. The train seems fond of giving little information on the state of the places they go to. So Elidibus decides to quietly add a question.

"Are the storms caused by an outsider like ourselves?"

He will be looking into the nature of the world as they continue their journey. But for now, there are things that are best to confirm now.

Elidibus has questions, and by the barrier between their connected state, there is a thoughtful rummaging on the statue's side, of where to begin. Best to go from last, to address on that point.

Outsiders, a feeling eventually provides, but one that comes with the addition that it's not in full agreement. A view of the sky is shared, faint, but most noticeable is the expanse of it. As if every which direction from where the island floats is in view, but within the focal point, a red haze coming from somewhere in the distance.

Other, the feeling better supplies. And over the link, another recollection is shared: one that deposits the red around them, nothing but red seen, trying to push through into the mind, the body - infected, take a hold of. A swirling mind, one's soul trying to keep grounded.

Unlike certain entities before, the depth of the experience isn't deposited through the link more than necessary; with some spikes of discomfort, the layer of energy mimicking Elidibus's own not entirely without holes.

It quietens, however, along with the being. A moment to ponder, the perhaps more important question not forgotten.

A known feeling returns, like a gentle press. Permission. A concern for pain.

"Outsiders," Elidibus murmurs. Or... not? Well whatever the origin of the perpetrator, he is curious about whether it's a singular or multitude. "More than one?" It's something he manages to retain the presence enough to ask. A soft noise escapes his throat; a sharp exhalation from the experience of discomfort which is going much deeper than the physical vessel he resides in. His fingers then wrap around the palms of the statue's hands, making certain he will not flinch back.

His answer comes with assurance, "You have my permission. I am no stranger to pain." Old pain. Recent pain. It comes with the feeling of grief. With a mimicry of the Ascian's aether as the conduit, it may even come with flashes of memory. A rain of fire in the sky. Suffering near total dissolution as something tore energies out of his being. Elidibus would endure in the face of a need for this vital information.

But he knows it will be harsh and thus there will also be the impression that he braces himself for what's to come.

The image is received, and with it - with it and the grief - sympathy is given in turn. Deep, and with a sense of gratitude - for Elidibus to be here now, to be offering aid for those of the statue's own home.

It lasts for a few seconds, doesn't exactly leave, but the being's attention moves elsewhere, within itself - before then the connection between them expands onto a clearer level, the energy mimicked lessened by the presence of the statue's own.

It is stabbing pain, a headache, and the being does not delay:

'The bridge beside me leads to our home.' It is a voice, light-sounding, neither clear-defining as male nor female. Young, perhaps; somewhere around 20s to 30s. 'Something troubles our connection. I cannot speak to the hearts of the other islands. Forever Ones, we are called. Connected to our lands. Our people. Tell them, Hemla is fine - Hemla is I.'

There are flashes of images, memories: round houses set along a hill-like terrain, holes for windows in homes made in the hill itself. The inside of a building, large, with a concentric layout that gets smaller at the centre where a hearth lays. Satyr-like people sitting around here. A place of study. The home of the sages.

'Be careful,' they continue, a warning, one hurried. 'Your energy is not ours. The world rejects it. I do not understand, I will learn. Give time. Our school-' The sages show again- '-can aid. They aid you. We aid you.'

With this close a link, the gratitude - under the pain that comes with it, a migraine from two clashing energies that refuse to co-exist - stronger than before, before the being withdraws the link, giving Elidibus respite.

There is an irony in the sensation. A small "tch" sound escapes as pain lances through his head. Though his features furrow and eyes narrow with the sensation, he doesn't draw away from the statue. In time his expression retains most of its usual calm expression.

But if someone were to look closely they would see there are still lines creasing his temples and perhaps a bead of sweat.

The message, at least, is clear. And thanks to the Ascian's prior experience with pain and possibly his birthright, something he hears in full.

When the entity withdraws, Elidibus releases the breath he'd not realized he'd been holding. The sigh brings a faint sensation of 'relief' from pressure underneath the lingering throb of the headache.

"Thank you." Pain aside, the Ascian is grateful. Though whether he can take advantage of the information personally remains in question; at least he can pass it to others.

"I pray if this encounter caused you as much pain, you recover quickly. I will tell me comrades of what you have shared with me. We will see your message passed on."

Elidibus will wait for an indication of response or acknowledgement- he certainly would pause if there is more- before unwrapping his fingers from the statue's hands and withdrawing. So many questions may remain, but it is likely better to ask those who would be easier to speak with.

He's not one to linger, usually and it seems he's prepared to depart. Yet he does hesitate; at least for a moment or two longer to compose himself before rejoining the others. He does have pride.

Wings of Wonder: NPC Interactions and Investigations

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NGL First image that popped into my head is tin cans on a string.

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The picture is a spoiler. Also slight FFXIV spoilers here.

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