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i just wanna know: who broke it?
[Sheena'd thought she was all done with dimensional travel, now that the two worlds were united. But here she is, having fallen asleep in one world and woken up in a Tethe'alla that's just different enough from the one she knows to be constantly jarring. Her connections to Aselia's summon spirits dangle loose, snapped by distance - not even Origin's power could follow her here, it seems. That's more than a little unsettling.
It takes her some time, alone in a bizarro version of Meltokio as she is, but eventually she stumbles on a lead - an old scientific journal, a mention of the power of something called an Aegis being able to transcend space and time, at least in theory. And a little asking around tells her that Tethe'alla has its own Aegis, though no one's seen it for years. Well. Worth a shot, right?
Somehow she manages to talk her way into the Tethe'allan castle where the Aegis's core crystal awaits being woken up, with a series of smiles and her very best politicking - yes, of course she's got nothing but loyalty for Tethe'alla, of course she's skilled at this, of course it'd be a great honor.
(Zelos would be proud, she thinks, wryly.)
They're dubious, but her persistence wears them down, or maybe they're just desperate enough for a return of the Aegis's power to let her try, and the orange core crystal is offered out to her.
She takes a deep breath, and reaches out to touch it.]
It takes her some time, alone in a bizarro version of Meltokio as she is, but eventually she stumbles on a lead - an old scientific journal, a mention of the power of something called an Aegis being able to transcend space and time, at least in theory. And a little asking around tells her that Tethe'alla has its own Aegis, though no one's seen it for years. Well. Worth a shot, right?
Somehow she manages to talk her way into the Tethe'allan castle where the Aegis's core crystal awaits being woken up, with a series of smiles and her very best politicking - yes, of course she's got nothing but loyalty for Tethe'alla, of course she's skilled at this, of course it'd be a great honor.
(Zelos would be proud, she thinks, wryly.)
They're dubious, but her persistence wears them down, or maybe they're just desperate enough for a return of the Aegis's power to let her try, and the orange core crystal is offered out to her.
She takes a deep breath, and reaches out to touch it.]
DID I SAY FUN, I MEANT TRAUMATIZING
He should answer the Aegis, he knows, reassure him that he's not mad, that frankly, he appreciates his interference in the first place, but the problem with this memory is that knowing it is only a nightmare does not make coping any easier. In fact, knowing that Lloyd won't wake up to Zelos being alive and well only makes it harder, the knowledge that yeah, that happened, and there's no going back from it working against the few coping methods Lloyd does have.
So instead of answering, Lloyd pulls his knees to his chest, folds his arms over them, and hides his face as he cries.
He wants to be embarrassed, all things considered, of crying in front of the blade he shares resonance with, of not being able to talk either in real life or even in a dream, of being quite useless, in the grand scheme of things, but the corpse of the man he loved haunts him, the ghost of his hand on Lloyd's cheek and the whisper of "you can drop the act, now" forcing him into a spiral of thoughts that snake around his heart and squeeze until he thinks it'll stop beating.
Lloyd isn't sure how long it takes until he's able to stop crying, doesn't know how long it takes until his eyes can no longer cry, but eventually his shoulders stop shaking with the force of his silent sobs and all that's left is his red face, bloodshot eyes, and a chest that's wracked with hiccups. And once he calms down from the worst of that, he finally pushes his head back up from behind his arms and stares blankly ahead, refusing to look at Mithos.
"Thank you," he manages to say aloud, voice quiet and rough, "sorry you had to see all of that."
CLEARLY! I'M FILING A COMPLAINT
He doesn't know what to think about first, what to unpack. His driver, a murderer...? But from what glimpses he saw, Mithos knows Zelos started that fight. Zelos made his choice. A death in battle is much, much different than something pre-mediated, pre-determined. Lloyd is a killer, but not a murderer.
Not that that stops the grief Lloyd feels from sliding down Mithos' throat and choking his lungs. Whoever Zelos was to Lloyd... he was someone important. The fireflies around Mithos flicker, wingbeats faltering for a moment, as Mithos tries to imagine that grief, rationalize it within his own mind, but can't even come close, can only understand the grief that sits heavy on his tongue.
Lloyd speaks, finally, and Mithos winces at how clearly Lloyd's body does not want him to speak.
"It's fine," Mithos says, frustrated, uncomfortable. "I was the one who walked in here. You don't have to apologize for that."
He fidgets, a little. Fireflies flicker around them, yellow, orange.
Mithos swallows. He has questions, but everything he really needs to know about this situation, he already knows. And he's not completely dumb, he knows that now's the absolute worst time to ask Lloyd anything pressing. So:
"Is there anything I can do?" Mithos asks, quiet. And then: "...do you want me to go? If I leave, you should stay lucid in the dreamspace. No more nightmares then, at least. Not unless you ask for them."
WHO ARE YOU GONNA FILE A COMPLAINT TO, THE "MURDER OF JRPG LOVE INTERESTS" BOARD??
"It's okay," Lloyd says, after a few moments of silence, quickly glancing at Mithos with a weak, close-mouthed smile. "You can stay. Up to you."
And then he hums, relaxing his posture enough to bounce his right leg. Chances are, Mithos had seen everything, and terror grips at Lloyd just enough to worry about what that could mean for what Mithos thinks of his driver. Does he think of him as a murderer? It's not like he'd be wrong. It's not like it's far from what Lloyd thinks of himself.
And to see Lloyd kill the reflection of an Aegis in this world... If Mithos didn't trust Lloyd after this, Lloyd wouldn't blame him. Maybe he should offer to give up resonance. But for now, Lloyd can at least offer up answers to questions Mithos might have.
"You... Probably have questions. You can ask. I won't mind."
NO I'M FILING A COMPLAINT TO GOD!!!!!!! WHY DOES HE ALLOW SUFFERING!!!!!!
"No, I think I saw everything I needed to see," Mithos says in response to Lloyd's offer to answer questions. He has very few questions left, very few that wouldn't be highly pointless to ask. "What's there left to know? He betrayed you. You didn't have much of a choice..."
The grief that doesn't belong to him still sits on Mithos' tongue, heavy and thick. Mithos still wishes he understood it. He's never had someone close to him betray him like that - no one except his father, but even that is a betrayal of a different sort. And certainly he's never had to fight anyone he...
Mithos pauses, fixing his eyes on Lloyd; curious, head tilted to the side.
"...did you love him?" he asks, quietly.
FUCK I FORGOT TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT but good point, @ origin what's your deal
Maybe he had always hated Lloyd. Maybe, some part of Lloyd's mind wanders, searching desperately for a reason why Zelos would have wanted this, he only got close to Lloyd to gain information from him easier. (Lloyd knows, in his heart, that that isn't true. Lloyd had a chance and he blew it.)
So instead, he continues listening to Mithos. And the thing is, Lloyd knew that as soon as he opened up for questions, his relationship with Zelos was going to be brought up, obvious as it is that what Zelos and Lloyd had was something a little deeper than friendship but exactly explored, not before Zelos' death at Lloyd's hands. But something still forces Lloyd to freeze when Mithos asks, bluntly, if Lloyd had loved him. Maybe it's the fact that Lloyd's never admitted to it out loud before - (everyone in the party just knew) - or maybe it's because he's talking to Mithos, who knows this world's Zelos. But either way, he sits, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and answers honestly.
"I loved him more than I can describe," he says, blinking, forcing himself to speak the truth of what he had been grieving about for months on end. "And for a bit, there, I thought… I thought we might have had a chance."
I WISH I KNEW
(Lloyd's human, too, though. Isn't he?)
Mithos takes his disgust in his hands and bottles it up, smothers it, so Lloyd cannot feel it. To bring it up while Lloyd is grieving would be an asshole move at best. He's glad he knows, because it gives him more clarity on the situation, but a part of him still wishes he hadn't asked.
"Well," he says, again. His mouth feels dry, even though things like that are just abstractions in dreams. He doesn't really know what to say. "I'm sorry that... that that happened to you. I'm sorry things didn't work out."
He doesn't know how to comfort someone who's grieving, really. It's been so long he's forgotten how he and Kratos managed, when Martel died. And when Anna died - when they thought Anna had died--
Oh.
Mithos... is just as guilty as Lloyd is, isn't he? Worse than that. Lloyd killed in battle, but Mithos plotted, planned, snuck behind Kratos' back, and then--
He killed Zelos, too.
The cannon stopped firing before Mithos told it to, because it's power source had suddenly stopped. Because Zelos had died. Because--
Feeling shaky, Mithos laughs once, short and startled and desperately trying not to think about the weight of that. He grabs the guilt and the horror and bottles it up. Wraps his fingers iron-tight around the dreamspace so it cannot paint another image than it is painting right now. He can't let anyone know. He can't let anyone know, not ever, because if anyone finds out no one is ever going to forgive him.
"A- Anyway," Mithos says, forcing his tone to be bright. "Sorry. I don't have any advice, or anything, but I have a really, really stupid question. Zelos had... wings. Is that normal for humans, in your world? Here, only Aegises-- well, and Father, I suppose. I've seen him with wings a few times before too, but he's - honestly I don't think he's human."
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"They're not exactly normal, no," Lloyd states, not really wanting to explain the bullshit of Cruxis Crystals and exspheres and every shitty thing that's ruined his life but knowing he shouldn't really avoid the topic here, now, whatever. At the very least, switching to this subject takes his mind off of the previous, shittier topic of Zelos' death. "In my world, there are these stones - not really core crystals, but... They're called exspheres and Cruxis Crystals. They both offer strength and just generally better senses and shit, but Cruxis Crystals are different. They turn people into what we call Angels. Beings with incredible powers and stuff like wings."
Lloyd sighs, exhaling loud and raising his left arm to bring Mithos' attention to his hand, where the key crest lays embedded. "I have a... Mine was an exsphere, and eventually I gained powers like an angels, so technically, it became a Cruxis Crystal. Sheena has an exsphere too. Exspheres aren't uncommon in our world, but they suck, so I was trying to find a way to collect and destroy them before I found my way here. Cruxis Crystals, on the other hand... Those are incredibly rare. Only a handful of people have them, and Zelos was one of them."
Something of what Mithos says sticks to the forefront of Lloyd's mind, though. Lloyd had been running under the idea that this world's Origin - the Architect, whatever - was just going to be a reflection of his own. But Aselia's Origin doesn't have wings - or at least, not any like Zelos' or Mithos'. And Origin is definitively not human, not unless you call having four arms human, so Lloyd's left wondering this: If the Architect isn't a reflection of Aselia's, then who is Origin to this world?
"What... What did his wings look like?" Lloyd questions, trying to put together an image of a god he doesn't know in his head. "Our Origin - our Architect, I guess - didn't really have wings, but he had four arms and blonde hair. Does yours look like that?"
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"What?" he laughs, taken off guard by Lloyd's question. "No, no. Father, he... I don't know. He's not that special at all, I think, not in how he looks. If I didn't know he was who he was, if I hadn't watched him create the world, I'd probably tell you he was just any old human."
Well, actually.
"Minus the wings, of course. And he reeks of ether in ways that-- you and Sheena are the only other humans I've met who have ether levels that high. It's weird."
Caught up in his thoughts, Mithos keeps talking.
"In fact, when I resonated with you," Mithos says, "for a second your ether signatures felt the same. Yours and Father's, I mean. That's why I picked up, even though you weren't Kratos - it caught me off guard."
God i’m so sad i lost the og tag and it was so good
The Architect of this world, having a similar ether signature to Sheena and especially Lloyd? Fucking weird, and Lloyd’s brows furrow in confusion as he tries to process that. Lloyd’s not even an actual blade, so the idea of this world’s Origin having a similar signature boggles his mind. Hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch at his head as he tries to understand what he’s been told, Lloyd finds himself sorting through what he knows to find out just who this world’s Architect could be a reflection of in his world.
He starts off by narrowing down the options. Whoever the Architect is, he’s obviously male or male presenting. Human looking, too, so that strikes out any elves - but, Lloyd catches itself: he created this world. He has to be immortal in that case then, right?
So maybe he’s the reflection of an angel. Lloyd lists off the male angels he’s fought off - mostly rookies, and it obviously can’t be Mithos, Zelos, or Kratos, given how he’s met them in this world already, and they were all some type of blade. Yuan, maybe...?
Lloyd grimaces. Yuan, a god? Nah. No thanks. Besides, Lloyd knows his uncle, and beyond all of his eccentrics, Yuan wouldn’t allow for a system this corrupt and abusive to exist when he has the power to fix it. So Lloyd would bet money it wasn’t him.
Remiel, maybe? No. No, Remiel was obviously a half-elf. He can’t have been it.
With a pout, Lloyd starts drumming his hands on his thighs, lost in thought. Who else could it be then? Maybe someone who hadn’t posed a threat on his Aselia? Maybe somebody entirely new?
But... the ether signature. That feels really important.
Lloyd glances over at his Cruxis Crystal. Sheena’s ether signature felt similar, while Lloyd’s felt the same for a moment. The Architect looks like an old man, according to Mithos, with wings like his and Zelos’, not to mention an ether signature unlike a blade’s or an Aegis’, if it feels like Lloyd’s. So whoever it is, he must have some sort of prototype Cruxis Crystal or core crystal, something older and not yet optimized.
But Lloyd’s Cruxis Crystal is made to absorb mana. Lloyd had always assumed that’s why his ether signature felt so different to blades.
Could the Architect... Could he have a Cruxis Crystal? Could he somehow have gotten his hand on one?
Eyes widening, Lloyd lands on a thought. What if, somehow, the Architect is from his Aselia?
But that can’t be possible, right? Lloyd and the rest of the party had - for all intents and purposes - exiled the rest of the angels on Derris-Kharlan. And space travel wasn’t really a thing, not unless you count traveling on a comet space travel. And aside from his own, no other exsphere has ever evolved into a Cruxis Crystal over a natural series of events...
Maybe one of the angels that got exiled had something to do with this. But what happened to the others? And why would the angels make a world unlike the city of Welgaia had been, emotionless, cold, distant, but incorruptible?
So, old man, had wings, looked human, somehow lived forever. Under the hypothetical assumption that they have a Cruxis Crystal, came from Aselia, and left on Derris-Kharlan, Lloyd can knock the possibilities down to a few possibilities, including...
No. He wouldn’t. He fought Mithos with the rest of them at the end of their battles, he wouldn’t create a world just as corrupt. Not while knowing about the struggles of those who suffered back home.
But then, who else could it be?
Now bouncing his legs again, Lloyd takes another mental list, this time adding in himself. He fits the characteristics - (minus being old, thank you, but let’s assume this Lloyd or whatever is old as fuck because time differences) - and for a moment, Lloyd feels dread settle in at the idea of him somehow having caused all of this, but. Lloyd had every plan to shatter his Cruxis Crystal as soon as every other exsphere was captured, and that was never going to change. He wouldn’t ever let Anna’s soul be trapped for that long. Nor would he allow a corrupt system like the blade system exist. And that still doesn’t answer the question of how he would travel through space in the first place.
So, Lloyd sighs. We’re back at square one.
“That is weird,” Lloyd says, finally pulling himself out of his thoughts. “The only real explanation I can give you is that maybe whoever the Architect is, they have a prototype core crystal or something. Maybe it feeds off of mana instead of ether, like my Cruxis Crystal does.”
curb your enthusiasm but it transforms into kaine salvation i have just created a terrible shitpost
But then Lloyd sighs, shifts like he's got a thought, and Mithos shuts himself up even though the tune plays on loop in his mind, listening to what Lloyd has to say.
It's irritating, a little. "That's not how core crystals work, and I don't remember Father making any prototypes," Mithos spits - not with any real venom, just his usual annoyance. He doesn't remember his Father having a crystal at all, except for whatever he was powering the blade network with, but... Honestly it doesn't matter.
"It's just weird, I'm not worried about it," Mithos says, sighing. "If I really want an answer, I can just ask Father myself."
He looks to Lloyd more seriously, here. "Anyway... what do you want to do now? It's your dream, so..." He wants to ask Lloyd if he's okay, honestly, after that nightmare, but with the subject changed and Lloyd distracted maybe that's not a good idea? "Well. I can wake us both up, or I can stay for a little while if you want me to. Whatever, uh..." He swallows. "Whatever you want, I guess."
He turns away from Lloyd here, embarrassed and trying not to show how out of his element he is. He hums the tune again, just a bar or two, as he waits for Lloyd to answer because it will not leave his head.
AND SHIT HITS THE FAN
Seems like it annoys Mithos, though, so Lloyd tries his best to not let his thoughts completely take him away this time, listening to what it is that Mithos has to say as a response. Well, if the Architect had never made a prototype, than who's to say that Lloyd's anywhere close to correct to begin with? Without a Cruxis Crystal, or some sort of different core crystal, maybe Lloyd's just making shit up, thinking too hard about -
That song. Lloyd blinks, knowing it from somewhere, knowing it from someone, a voice distant and quiet but no less audible, ancient words spilling from the lips of someone holding him close. He remembers warmth and melancholy, remembers a calming smile that looked down at him as sleep began to claim him. But that can't - that song was ancient elvish, right? And - and this world doesn't have elves, has never even heard of them as a collective race.
So how does Mithos know it? Know those words?
Completely ignoring what Mithos asks about the dreamscape, Lloyd turns his whole body to face him correctly, staring at him with a shocked expression carried across by disbelieving eyes. "Who taught you that song?!"
no subject
Is Mithos embarrassed? Oh definitely. Other than Zelos, the other day, Kratos and Presea are the only two people who Mithos has sung around before - well, and Martel and Father, but that was years and years and years ago - so... Well, it's fine, but he's flustered. He also doesn't understand why Lloyd suddenly cares so much.
"I don't think the words mean anything," Mithos continues blabbering, still nervous. "Or if they did, I could never get Father to explain, but. I couldn't get Father to explain a lot of things, really. It took me forever to even convince him to teach me the song to begin with." He squints, then. "Why? Do you know it?"
no subject
The Architect, an immortal, yet human-like being with wings. The Architect, with power thought almighty yet too similar to what Lloyd has seen. The Architect, who somehow found himself adrift in space, in a plain yet to be tilled and cultivated. The Architect, who must have existed for thousands of years on Lloyd's world if he knew the lyrics to a song otherwise lost to time. A song sang to Lloyd when he was only a toddler. A song almost no one alive knew.
The Architect. Almost certainly an angel, almost certainly a man. Almost certainly Kratos Aurion, a man Lloyd thought lost forever.
The realization sinks into Lloyd's mind at once, a freezing cold hand clawing at his heart and squeezing it until he can no longer breathe. He shuts his eyes shut, curling in on himself once more. Kratos, the Architect. Kratos, his father, a god, capable of life and everything he's created on this reflection of his world. If Lloyd thinks about it, it all makes sense - it makes so much sense. The reflections of Anna, Mithos, Martel, the trauma inflicted on Colette, on Zelos, all out of some concept of power and survival - it all makes sense.
And maybe, just maybe, that's why it doesn't take long for the frost biting at Lloyd's heart in the midst of such a devastating revelation to melt away in the presence of a wave of molten fury. A world born from another's suffering, cursed to an equal or worse fate - haven't they suffered enough? Lloyd thinks, lips pulling back into a snarl, haven't the injustices and power imbalances and countless deaths been enough? Lloyd fought with everything he had, gave so much, just to put an end to a corrupt system that had thoroughly ruined not only his life, but the lives of so many others, a system his father, Kratos, The Architect had willingly perpetuated. And for what? So his father could run away and create a world with just as broken a system?
Lloyd is not a hateful person. He doesn't take joy in hating others, in hating what they do. But for once in his life, he hates Kratos, is ashamed to call him his father.
Fists clenched tight, Lloyd forces hot air out of his mouth through his teeth, nearly hissing as he attempts to process what he feels and what he knows. He's forcing himself to look away from Mithos again, forcing himself to stay sitting, though all he wants to do is through himself at the nearest training dummy and slash it to pieces, though the dreamscape becomes cloudy with gray clouds, lightning flashing as thunder roars.
"I think I know exactly who the Architect is," he finally bites out. "His name is Kratos Aurion, and he is my father."
no subject
That was not even close to the answer Mithos was expecting.
"K- Kratos?" he repeats, and he laughs, startled. "Th- that's absurd!" Mithos stammers out around hiccups of laughter. That's not just absurd, it's impossible. Lightning cracks offset to Mithos' laughter, rain falling from a black sky as the dream loses hold of any real shape in Mithos' horror. "That's-- That's--!"
But Mithos remembers the converastion he had with his father, just the other night. He remembers his father's eyes, red like Kratos', shaped like Kratos'. He remembers - now that he thinks about it, he remembers that that's not all his father shares with Kratos, is it? Sometimes the cadence of his voice, the downcast of his eyes, the simple little tics of his mannerisms. The way Kratos and his father both freeze up and go rigid when they have to talk about something they don't want to explain.
And the fact his father never once talked about his past, as if he had something to hide.
Of course he had something to hide, if he was this Lloyd's father. Of course he had something to hide if - as everyone has told Mithos - he ran away from his son, after he left it to his son to kill his brother, ran away into the cold
expanse
of space.
Mithos rakes his hands through his hair, slow and horrified. It fits. He hates that it fits.
He's furious, he hates it with every inch of his being. He tugs at his hair as the thunder rumbles around them, the dreamspace dark and cold, rain pouring even if it does not actually touch Mithos or Lloyd. Mithos tugs at his hair, choking down his loathing and trying to breathe around Lloyd's fury, and--
"Are you sure?" Mithos croaks, even though he's pretty sure. "Are you- that doesn't--" All the pieces line up, and he cannot deny them. But that doesn't mean he has to like them. And it certainly does not mean he understands them. "Why would he-- HOW did he--!?"
He looks to Lloyd, helplessly.
no subject
Mithos doesn’t deserve the brunt of it. It’s not his fault his father has thoroughly ruined their lives.
“At the end of the journey I went on back home,” Lloyd starts, exhaling hard to release some of the tension building up in his body, audible in the tone of his voice, “Kratos left. As in he left the planet. There was a comet named Derris-Kharlan, and he said it was his duty to take it away and find a new place for it.”
Lloyd laughs, something low and sick. “I thought he was going to eventually settle down on another planet. I didn’t think he’d fucking decide to make one. Where he got that power, I don’t know. All I know is that he was one of the three other people on my home planet that knew that song, that was an angel, and that he was the only one who was able to leave for space.”
He pops open the first button on his coat and reaches for the locket strung around his neck, being careful to keep the ring hanging from the chain hidden in his palm, and stares at it, sneering. “So much for honoring my mother’s memory,” Lloyd says, “he made a mockery of her suffering.”
THE IRONY OF THIS TAG....... VS THIS URL..............
Mithos sits with his face in his hands, pressed against raised knees, trembling, trying to swallow both Lloyd's fury and his own.
His feelings about Lloyd's Kratos were already complicated, as were his feelings about his own Father. To know that they're the same person....
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Mithos mumbles, into his hands. If he lifts his head, Lloyd will see the hot tears that streak his cheeks. The dreamspace removes any chance of his voice not carrying to be heard, at least. "If I--" He laughs, angry, sick. "If I had any delusions about Father loving me... Of course he doesn't love me. He couldn't even love you."
[Ironic starts playing vaguely in the distance to the instrumental of curb your enthusiasm]
But Mithos is right about one thing: Origin has a terrible track record of being good to people he’s supposed to love. “He was forced into a corner with me,” Lloyd excuses, begrudgingly, shoving the locket back under his tank top and rebuttoning up his collar, “but he had no excuse with you and Martel - none at all. He had no excuse for any of this!”
Dragging innocents into a world that was corrupt from the start, letting people suffer when he had the ability to put an end to it, having all of that power and deciding this was the best way to handle it - what a fucking farce. All of the things Origin has just let happen - (the fact that Colette and Martel are suffering, shoved together in a way that encroaches on both of their freedoms, the fact that Zelos had been so threatened he felt no he had no other choice but to -)
Lloyd swallows hard, anger forcing itself past the momentary hurt again. “I don’t even know how I’m eventually going to talk to him without losing it.”
curb your irony
If the father who abandoned him and his creations is the same man that fought Lloyd, abandoned Lloyd... should he really be surprised? Can he even be surprised? It doesn't make any sense to him that Father could be could be the Kratos he knows, because the Kratos he knows isn't a horrible person, but Lloyd's Kratos was pretty awful too. Mithos supposes it makes sense that if Father was going to be Kratos, of course Father would be the Kratos who thought challenging his son to melee combat was a reasonable way to get to an end goal, and that--
That anger, that understanding, is exactly why Mithos' head snaps up in anger, lightning striking across the sky, the moment Lloyd dare suggest that anything could possibly excuse Origin for his actions.
"No," Mithos spits. "Don't you dare, don't you dare even excuse him for what he did to you, Lloyd. I get it. I've tried to excuse Father's actions for hundreds of years, and maybe I could find something - it's not like he put is in the cannons, his negligence just allowed us to be kidnapped! And that- And that--!" His hands slam down at his sides, curled into anxious, fretting fists. He's so angry he's going to choke, he can barely see straight, can barely think around the ringing memory of Origin's knee connecting with Lloyd's gut. "That was nothing compared to what he did to you, Lloyd! If- If you're angry that his negligence hurt me and Martel, then you have to be angry about the fact he willingly, actively hurt you, Lloyd."
He wonders distantly, grimly, what exactly happened in that Kratos' life to make him so unbelievably terrible.
He wonders if it was the same thing that made the other Mithos so terrible.
Brought to you by the Apollo Justice OST
“Origin only knew me for four years,” Lloyd says, after Mithos finishes, unable to meet his eyes and instead averting his gaze to his boots. “And I couldn’t really even form sentences for three of those years. Maybe I was his son, but it’s not like he ever had to claim me. It’s not like he ever really did. And after knowing what sides we were on...”
He trails off. Origin was on their side by the end, but the truth remains that it wasn’t something he wanted. “For all intents and purposes, we were strangers. I think he wanted to keep it that way. But with you guys - Mithos, it’s different. He willingly created you guys and stuck around. He was more your father than he was mine, and at that point, he had a greater responsibility to keep you safe!”
Forcing the hurt that Lloyd hates to acknowledge out from his heart and transforming it into self-righteous anger and hatred is much easier than coping with it. So he does just that, allowing it to enter into his voice again and power the force behind the words. “It doesn’t matter what happened on my world, the point is that he had a chance to make sure it never happened again, that nobody would be hurt like that again, and he fucked it up. He was so lost in his own fucking mind that he didn’t think about what could happen, and now he’s made thousands of people miserable.”
He scoffs. “Knowing him, he’ll probably try to high-tail it the moment he sees me. God forbid someone holds him accountable.”
thank you apollo justice
"It doesn't matter how long he knew you!" Mithos spits, anger boiling over until he has no choice but to jump to his feet. He's far enough away from Lloyd that hopefully the action doesn't startle him, though really Mithos is too angry to care. "He was still-- He was still your father! He had a responsibility to keep you safe as much as he had a responsiblity to me, Lloyd! It's not any different!!"
And Mithos won't - Mithos can't let this drop. He refuses to. He refuses to let Lloyd waste another breath excusing that asshole for his actions.
"Sure! He didn't want the responsibility! He didn't want to be your father! Fine! Whatever!" Mithos is screaming, core burning with all this fury and pain and if you ask him, really ask him, if he's more upset on Lloyd's behalf or his own he would not be able to answer you honestly. (It's easy, too easy, to remember how little his father actually looked at him.) "That doesn't absolve him of guilt! In fact that only makes him even more guilty! Him deciding he just- didn't want you anymore? That's messed up!"
If this were the physical world, Mithos would be out of breath, by now. He feels it, in a way. Exhausted and high-strung and shaking with how angry he is, and everything else he's feeling. Not to mention the strain of keeping the dreamspace coherent instead of buckling under the weight of the storm raging in his chest.
"I get it," he says, icy, furious. "He's done-- a lot to hurt this world, to hurt blades, and that's. That's not okay. But he hurt us, too, and that's not okay, either. And I hate him for... for..."
The words die in Mithos' mouth, as a realization dawns on him, a realization that steals most of the fury from his lungs. It shifts his worldview, settles it on a different image, a different understanding. Him and Lloyd. Aegis and angel. Blade and driver. More than that. Sons of the same man who abandoned them both. Sons of the same father.
"Oh," Mithos says, soft, horrified.
"This means we're brothers."
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It makes sense, honestly. They are brothers, if Lloyd is right, if Origin is Lloyd’s father as much as he is Mithos’ - hell, Lloyd has already said that much, implied that much. But somehow, in the midst of all that anger and betrayal, the fact that... The fact that Origin is their shared father escaped him. Even though it didn’t. Because it’s now that the realization that they’re brothers is hitting Lloyd, knocking the words off his tongue before he can say anything, left staring at his newfound brother.
Is he even upset about it? Well... No, not really. Lloyd had always wanted siblings, always wanted to be a big brother, and found some sort of solace in his role with Genis, but this is - this is totally crazy, absolutely insane, to find out he’s the brother of an Aegis from an entirely different dimension, to find out that said brother is a reflection of the uncle Lloyd killed on his own world. To find out that this brother was left abandoned just as much as he was by their father. How is Lloyd supposed to feel about this?
He struggles to settle on a specific thought. Too much has happened tonight, too much to accept and cope with and work through, and adding on sudden family seems to have sent his brain haywire with how it races from thought to thought, way too preoccupied to try and pin down one thing in particular to feel. Lloyd settles on being torn about everything and knowing he’ll have to work through it all, but... At least this Mithos seems alright. At least he seems like a brother Lloyd wouldn’t mind having.
“We’re brothers,” Lloyd finally says aloud, letting out a breathy laugh and smacking his hand over his eyes, dragging it down his face. “Of course we’re brothers. Because no part of my life will ever be normal.”
no subject
He knows, that like, technically. Lloyd isn't human? Certainly not like any of the humans Mithos knows from this Aselia, and for as long as Lloyd has been his driver, Mithos definitely hasn't found a reason to hate him, but still.
Lloyd... a human... and also his brother...
Mithos absolutely cannot cope with that, tonight.
Not on top of everything else. Not for another second.
"I," Mithos says, and any further words fail him.
He closes the connection between himself and Lloyd, pulling himself out of Lloyd's dreamspace. A bitter part of him is well aware that he's leaving, like a coward, like their father, but Mithos tells himself he won't run away from this forever so it's fine he just needs a minute or a hundred away from Lloyd so he can breathe.
He blinks awake, startled, in the chair he curled up in. It's... storming outside, rain and thunder, not too disimilar from what the dreamspace looked like before Mithos left. That's... probably not a coincidence, is it?
Mithos puts his head in his hands and focuses on breathing, rather than screaming, like he wants to. It's fine. The storm will calm down when he does. It's fine.
(He can decide how the hell he feels about... All This... later.)
Hey what's up guys, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated
> FORMAT ZELOS_FEHU_TETHEALLA: /S
Checking existing core format...
Verifying...
Check complete.
Volume Serial Number is 1A34-16F2.
> PR.EXE 」
It's dark.
Wind flows like currents in the ocean, carrying distant, murky echoes within itself. A bubbling in water that vibrates like the reverb of a voice, like electricity, like data, like the mockery of what would otherwise be the thumping of a healthy heartbeat.
Here, in the depths, a cacophony harmonizes and grows.
Here, in the darkness, the simulacra begins taking form.
Scanning...
Scanning...
Scanning...
No data loss detected.
Current MBR saved to "ZELOS_FEHU_TETHEALLA:\HDD80h.MBR". Restore?
> ZELOS_FEHU_TETHEALLA:\PR.EXE -restorembr=80h 」
It's cold.
Electricity running among internal highways, the little kick of energy so reminiscent of a spasm in a lazily outstretched hand laid upon white marble. Echoes of nothingness and reports of everything, unseeing eyes scanning the synthetic membrane behind an eyelid, deep inhales and exhales that rewire circuitry to feel just a little bit more human.
Slowly, lazily, the simulacra reboots, gains a meaning, an identity--a self stored within partitions carefully reconnecting with a core. Breathe in, breathe out. Watch the genetic makeup of your data reassemble itself behind your eyes, listen to the humming of wind and water within and without.
Data package after data package, finally a name comes in a flash of orange against a black abyss: Zelos, he remembers abruptly. His name is Zelos. Tethe'alla's artificial Aegis, hundreds of years old, a weapon currently being carted en route to Sylvarant. His awakening must mean he's resonated, somehow. Last he'd checked, Sheena Fujibayashi was his driver.
Oh.
Well, he sure as hell hopes that--
WHAT'S UP CAN I GET OUT OF HERE
She gets a signal. She doesn't know who it belongs to. It'll have to do.
The data package she sends contains one word.
And then a string of information. Exact coordinates of her current location, and then of her locations over the past few days so that the general path Colette's driver - she dare not think of him as hers - can be plotted, accounting for time and so on. Projected next location. A breakdown of the situation, package prepared for Mithos even though she's sending it to who knows where.
Herself, fused with another Aegis.
Herself, smothered in another Aegis' hold.
Colette, bright eyed and eager to please, willingly going along with everything her driver asks.
The cannon is destroyed and they are free but.
This Seymour asshole wants either world destruction or world domination (Martel can't tell, can't hear enough of the physical world to be sure. Colette is keeping so much out of her grasp) and for as furious as Martel is with humanity, as hurt as she is for all it has done, she wants it to be her own choice and not someone else's and--
Anyway that doesn't go with the data package. Just Seymour's name and the vague understanding Martel has of his ideals and how eager Colette is to please him, to the point of shoving Martel to the depths of their shared soul so she can barely surface.
(If these were any different circumstances, Martel might be proud.)
Package sent.
Now all there's do to wait, and hope, Martel thinks, as the signal slides out of her grasp.
Unfortunately, waiting and hoping are her two least favorite things.
DON'T THINK SO ALSO I REALLY DID MAKE HER WAIT AND HOPE
That's a new one.
First things first, Zelos takes the data package, keeps it safe while he pings the outside world. He's still reconfiguring, and it'll be a long while before he can actually resonate, but--the action lands him two very similar signals outside, both in equal strength and proximity. Warm, familiar, safe. One of these will be his new driver. Try as he might, though, Zelos can't quite make them out. But they both feel like Sheena, at least. Architect, Zelos hopes at least one of them is Sheena.
He keeps his port open, then, ready to ping and resonate and reform whenever his repairs complete themselves. He makes a cautious check on that--he's somewhere around 59% right now, apparently. That's a start.
Oh, well. Without further ado, Zelos opens the package--
--and sees a path, coordinates, green on pink, terrain conditions, calculations, time predictions, green on pink, a quick summary of an experiment and the glow of two crystals, green on pink, green on pink, green on pink, the phantom pains of individuality, horror, desire, need, the cannon, the cannon, the cannon--
Pink on green.
A name.
Seymour Guado.
The simulacra furrows his brows, face twitching ever so slightly as he parses the information within seconds. Fingers curling into fists, breathing quickening as he lets go of the package, processes what he's seen. This is a cry for help. Who sent it, Zelos does not know, but--for them to have any sort of power down here at the bottom of the network, then it must be an Aegis. Colette? No, this voice is too impersonal. Martel? It could be.
Shaking still, Zelos makes a choice. Desperately, a millisecond after reading the package, Zelos pings out there in the sea of consciousnesses of the network. Their signal, it must still remain down here. It frays and recedes away, but as soon as Zelos finds something that meets his criteria, he reaches forward, latches onto it without a second word, and--
「 ZELOS_FEHU_TETHEALLA:> Who are you? 」
IT'S FINE IT'S FINE
(no subject)
(no subject)
The idea that Kainé Salvation is playing through this is killing me actually
no one in this thread can keep any fucking dignity
Zelos has been dead for five slutty, slutty months
it's less than a year this time! it's fine!!!
HE STILL WAS DEAD AND SO WAS I
AAAAAAAAA
[Returns a month later with Starbucks] You like jazz?
I like trains
[GETS RUN OVER BY A TRAIN AND DIES AGAIN]
NOOOOOOOOO
WHAT'S UP I FINALLY HAVE SPOONS, WANT SOME