[And had it indeed not been for the glyph, the man before him would have gotten a significantly different response. Ascians, after all, were nothing more than a myth. A story to tell around a fire late at night, or to misbehaving children.
Legends and fables, but nothing real.
And so, for one moment, as the intricate and shimmering glyph obscured the other man's face, the mage would be rendered completely silent, an expression of shock and alarm clearly written over his own.]
Not possible? And yet I stand before you all the same.
[ He dismisses the glyph and instead snaps his fingers to create a small burst magick, pulsing in black and purple for a moment before extinguishing it. ]
You said it yourself: a Garlean could not wield magick.
[They could not, they could never. No matter what measures they took, no matter what technology they made, magick would be forever outside their abilities.
It was dawning on him rapidly now that even had the other man chosen not to reveal the glyph at all, that perhaps his reveal would still have considerable weight just based off that fact alone. For a man who was usually so full of things to say, he was finding it... very difficult now, to find any words at all.]
... I fear you have me at a loss for words, sir. [And wasn't that just a galling thing to admit to himself? Let alone out loud, but he wouldn't stand here gawping in silence either.]
'Tis not every day a being of myth introduces himself in broad daylight with a firm handshake and formal pleasantries, you understand.
[ Both of their position in history and what it must be like for a poor, unsuspecting sundered to suddenly hear from an Ascian. He'd revealed himself to a select few over the centuries, after all. ]
[A bringer of chaos and conflict, ghostly and malevolent, their mechanisms mysterious and motivations unknown, and here he was-]
... I must seem terribly underwhelming.
[He couldn't help it, there didn't seem to be much else to do, no other reaction to give: the comment had an edge of a joke to it, his expression both thoughtful and just a little helpless. What the hell did one even say?]
Though I imagine that might be the case for near anyone else as well... Why the body of a Garlean? [No, he needed to ask something, and it was going to be that.]
Why not a race known for their magick? Is it not troubling, at home, to not be able to freely use it without drawing attention?
[ Emet-Selch looks amused by the question, unexpected though it is. But it's true, for anyone who was used to doing magick, it was strange to hold back. He likes this miqo'te a little already, for asking good questions and for being a good caster. Good for him. ]
A mortal's lifetime does not seem so long to me.
[ Though the amusement gives way to a curious glint in his eye, quiet for a moment as he considers. After all, the question about being a Garlean is on point in a general sense, but there was of course the specific Garlean he was. ]
Neither is a week to me, but you'd find me unwilling to go even that long without a single spell to speak of.
[Though, granted, the motivations of an immortal were probably not something he'd be able to so easily relate to. But still.
He'd shake himself from his thoughts, and at the question, gave the other man a lingering, searching look. There were the vaguest hints of familiarity about it, but he couldn't quite place his finger on what that might be. A little too precise in its feeling to be brusquely and carelessly written off as 'all Garleans look the same'... And it didn't quite seem right to be so dismissive either.]
... As if looking upon a shade, I fear. Though some things seem familiar to me, I cannot say for certain. No, t'would seem I do not. A phase I find myself saying more often than not now here.
[ A laugh that, yes, not being able to cast really is no fun. It's nice to be with people who get it, rather than people who just hit monsters with shiny sticks. ]
I quite understand the sentiment.
[ But oh he truly doesn't recognize which is. Hm. ]
Perhaps I won't ruin it for you, then. It isn't that we know each other personally, but you may well yet stumble upon the truth of it.
Good sir, when you put it that way, it seems rather ominous.
I would need to ask others of you, and surely you'd agree what I learn might be tainted by bias. I'd much rather hear something as important as an identity from the man himself, rather than one who might harbor strong personal opinions one way or the other.
[See, when he asked for the mans identity, he expected maybe... not that. That wouldn't have been his first choice. Or his second, or third, not even a forth. Wouldn't have even been on the list.
If he'd looked shocked before, he'd look utterly incredulous now.]
... Solus zos Galvus was a man well past eighty when he passed on, I remember when I first heard that he had breathed his last. An aging man I have seen, as far removed from an ageless immortal as one could get.
How did they entomb a frail elder, only to have a youthful Emperor in his prime stride from his grave?
[He wanted to be angry. Part of him was, but so subsumed under everything else as it was... He'd get to it. He'd get to that anger eventually, but right now there were questions to be had.]
Oh, yes, that body is quite dead. I wouldn't want to use it again, it has served its purpose. But for we Ascians, it is not difficult to make any body look the way we'd like, and I've found this face quite suitable for my purposes.
[ Actually, this particular one is a clone, but it wasn't on the first for flavor text reasons, I guess, whatever, it doesn't matter, this is by far the simpler explanation than getting into all that clone business. ]
[Getting to the anger part was... going to take a little bit, wasn't it? Always there, always just right there, but pushed under again by another question provoking answer.]
You can just... change a physical body's shape and appearance? Bones and flesh are that easy for you to alter?
[He'd spoken of it so casually too] As if a body is no more than an unformed lump of clay.
Yes, it's all very simple if you're skilled enough with the craft.
[ But that really brings them to the crux of the matter ]
But all of it requires manna now that aether is so much farther out of reach. It's quite the hassle! Far worse than merely being able to cast a simple spell, I seem to expend it simply by existing.
[ I mean, he's exaggerating...but also, he's not. ]
[And even now, he can't quite stop asking goddamn questions-]
Manna and aether are not then one in the same, one has replaced the other?
[That's.... troubling, that's like saying his very soul has been altered.]
... I ought be angry with you. I ought be livid. [He can't keep shunting it off to the side, it has to be addressed. It's a fact that's been galling him now and he's not going to keep getting distracted.] I am, for all it might matter to state it as fact.
But confronted so, it feels less as if I'm speaking with a known man, but presented with but the mask of one, the puppeteer behind the facade too unknown to be hated.
[ It's fine, he at least asks the right questions, which is an important thing for Emet-Selch. ]
Yes, in this world manna has been substituted as a source of power. Though our souls remain the same as ever, it seems that we've no choice but to use—and produce—manna.
[ as for the rest he's not really bothered. Solus zos Galvus was an awful person, that was intentional. ]
Oh, I'm certain I'll find a way to solve that for you if you spend enough time around me. [ He is, after all, still an Ascian. Still meant to be hated by all those who serve Hydaelyn. ] You may hold on to that anger as long as you like.
[ Not that X'rhun needs his permission??? But he's got it now, I guess. ]
[No he did not need his permission to hate him. But it was hard to maintain outrage towards a man who's face he didn't recognize, who's deeds he'd felt and witnessed but never seen him carry out himself. Solus had already been an old man by the time the duelist first picked up his rapier, he'd never so much as even heard his voice before now.
There were so many degrees of separation to work through, far easier to hate what was essentially just a concept than it was the man himself, in this sense. ... It didn't help that Emet wasn't doing anything particularly hateful right now either, quite the opposite in fact. Nothing he said was really stoking the fire of rage, in spite of the casual reassurance that the other man would most definitely find a way to piss him off.]
...If I may posit, it isn't a problem that needs to be solved. I'd vastly prefer not be angry at all. ... Though I'm aware of naivety of asking an Ascian to not be intentionally antagonistic.
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Legends and fables, but nothing real.
And so, for one moment, as the intricate and shimmering glyph obscured the other man's face, the mage would be rendered completely silent, an expression of shock and alarm clearly written over his own.]
That's not- [Possible. But here he was.]
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[ He dismisses the glyph and instead snaps his fingers to create a small burst magick, pulsing in black and purple for a moment before extinguishing it. ]
You said it yourself: a Garlean could not wield magick.
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It was dawning on him rapidly now that even had the other man chosen not to reveal the glyph at all, that perhaps his reveal would still have considerable weight just based off that fact alone. For a man who was usually so full of things to say, he was finding it... very difficult now, to find any words at all.]
... I fear you have me at a loss for words, sir. [And wasn't that just a galling thing to admit to himself? Let alone out loud, but he wouldn't stand here gawping in silence either.]
'Tis not every day a being of myth introduces himself in broad daylight with a firm handshake and formal pleasantries, you understand.
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[ Both of their position in history and what it must be like for a poor, unsuspecting sundered to suddenly hear from an Ascian. He'd revealed himself to a select few over the centuries, after all. ]
And yet, it is what I am, all the same.
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... I must seem terribly underwhelming.
[He couldn't help it, there didn't seem to be much else to do, no other reaction to give: the comment had an edge of a joke to it, his expression both thoughtful and just a little helpless. What the hell did one even say?]
Though I imagine that might be the case for near anyone else as well... Why the body of a Garlean? [No, he needed to ask something, and it was going to be that.]
Why not a race known for their magick? Is it not troubling, at home, to not be able to freely use it without drawing attention?
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A mortal's lifetime does not seem so long to me.
[ Though the amusement gives way to a curious glint in his eye, quiet for a moment as he considers. After all, the question about being a Garlean is on point in a general sense, but there was of course the specific Garlean he was. ]
Do you truly not recognize this body?
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[Though, granted, the motivations of an immortal were probably not something he'd be able to so easily relate to. But still.
He'd shake himself from his thoughts, and at the question, gave the other man a lingering, searching look. There were the vaguest hints of familiarity about it, but he couldn't quite place his finger on what that might be. A little too precise in its feeling to be brusquely and carelessly written off as 'all Garleans look the same'... And it didn't quite seem right to be so dismissive either.]
... As if looking upon a shade, I fear. Though some things seem familiar to me, I cannot say for certain. No, t'would seem I do not. A phase I find myself saying more often than not now here.
Though I doubt I would have known you personally.
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I quite understand the sentiment.
[ But oh he truly doesn't recognize which is. Hm. ]
Perhaps I won't ruin it for you, then. It isn't that we know each other personally, but you may well yet stumble upon the truth of it.
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I would need to ask others of you, and surely you'd agree what I learn might be tainted by bias. I'd much rather hear something as important as an identity from the man himself, rather than one who might harbor strong personal opinions one way or the other.
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'tis true that there is not a person on our star who would not harbor strong personal opinions one way or another on the former Garlean Emperor.
[ there you go friend. all the truth is just out there now. ]
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If he'd looked shocked before, he'd look utterly incredulous now.]
... Solus zos Galvus was a man well past eighty when he passed on, I remember when I first heard that he had breathed his last. An aging man I have seen, as far removed from an ageless immortal as one could get.
How did they entomb a frail elder, only to have a youthful Emperor in his prime stride from his grave?
[He wanted to be angry. Part of him was, but so subsumed under everything else as it was... He'd get to it. He'd get to that anger eventually, but right now there were questions to be had.]
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[ Actually, this particular one is a clone, but it wasn't on the first for flavor text reasons, I guess, whatever, it doesn't matter, this is by far the simpler explanation than getting into all that clone business. ]
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You can just... change a physical body's shape and appearance? Bones and flesh are that easy for you to alter?
[He'd spoken of it so casually too] As if a body is no more than an unformed lump of clay.
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[ But that really brings them to the crux of the matter ]
But all of it requires manna now that aether is so much farther out of reach. It's quite the hassle! Far worse than merely being able to cast a simple spell, I seem to expend it simply by existing.
[ I mean, he's exaggerating...but also, he's not. ]
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Manna and aether are not then one in the same, one has replaced the other?
[That's.... troubling, that's like saying his very soul has been altered.]
... I ought be angry with you. I ought be livid. [He can't keep shunting it off to the side, it has to be addressed. It's a fact that's been galling him now and he's not going to keep getting distracted.] I am, for all it might matter to state it as fact.
But confronted so, it feels less as if I'm speaking with a known man, but presented with but the mask of one, the puppeteer behind the facade too unknown to be hated.
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Yes, in this world manna has been substituted as a source of power. Though our souls remain the same as ever, it seems that we've no choice but to use—and produce—manna.
[ as for the rest he's not really bothered. Solus zos Galvus was an awful person, that was intentional. ]
Oh, I'm certain I'll find a way to solve that for you if you spend enough time around me. [ He is, after all, still an Ascian. Still meant to be hated by all those who serve Hydaelyn. ] You may hold on to that anger as long as you like.
[ Not that X'rhun needs his permission??? But he's got it now, I guess. ]
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There were so many degrees of separation to work through, far easier to hate what was essentially just a concept than it was the man himself, in this sense. ... It didn't help that Emet wasn't doing anything particularly hateful right now either, quite the opposite in fact. Nothing he said was really stoking the fire of rage, in spite of the casual reassurance that the other man would most definitely find a way to piss him off.]
...If I may posit, it isn't a problem that needs to be solved. I'd vastly prefer not be angry at all. ... Though I'm aware of naivety of asking an Ascian to not be intentionally antagonistic.
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[ yes like that hand holding before! That was extremely antagonistic you know. ]