[He doesn't know anything about the Raiden Shogun as a person to take a stance. People are one thing; divinity is another. But it's suspect that she abandoned a project in a place ordinary humans can reach if she meant to conceal her failure.
Not that he'll say so. What good will that do?
Ren is emotional. Sieghart can gather that much. That's what to which he'll turn his attention, and not some god who's only here as a haunting ghost.]
That place you were taken to . . . Is that the home of your wish?
[ He shouldn't be reluctant to admit it, when Sieghart has already put two and two together, yet they approach his vulnerable core, a place inside himself that he could have gone this entire war without acknowledging. Maybe Wanderer isn't about to hide his past, but is there any benefit to Sieghart seeing this part of him?
Still, he won't turn away. ]
Tatarasuna. It was my home...a place where I was treated just like everyone else. [ "Like a human", is what he doesn't say. ] It was never meant to last, though. I was betrayed...by someone who later was a colleague. He led me to believe I was betrayed by those who had taken me in, and -- [ A sharp shake of his head. ] Well. You can piece the rest together.
[It doesn't take a genius to fill in the vague blanks. There's so much about Ren that's human. Even this attachment to a homeland is more human than divine. After all, what is a civilization to a god than a mere droplet in the vast pool of time?
A pool that would drive even the best of mortals mad. And then there's Ren, carrying betrayals that would sooner destroy than heal him.
Was that the original version?]
I can.
[It's a fragmented finish at best, but enough to demonstrate Ren's love for the people and place that took him in. Sieghart's main goal is to understand, not pry. He turns away to walk through what part of the pavilion he can, and he proceeds with downcast eyes once his back is turned to Ren, tone softening just barely enough to be audible.]
You're more human than divine. Your mind has suffered for it.
[ Something in those words prods at his deepest recesses - where a heart would be, if he had one. But that's the problem, isn't it? Or so he's always believed. ]
Don't. Don't call me human. I'm not--
[ Like them. Not as foolish, as selfish, as tenderhearted. Not as kind, or cruel. Yet his words die on his tongue, because Sieghart is an impartial crowd, and observant to boot. He's already glimpsed more of Ren's true nature than most do. What does his stubborn refusal do other than waste their time?
Instead, he grasps his fists at his side, gaze flashing cold as he shoots Sieghart a glare. ]
So? What about you? Do you consider yourself closer to divinity? By now, you should understand what I think of the gods.
[ The Pavilion around them ripples, dissipating into a formless mist, though the two of them remain in this empty space. ]
[Sieghart doesn't see the glare, but he can feel it—hear it, even, in those words. He understands the desire not to accept humanity well enough. Still, the question almost sets him off to laugh again, if mirthlessly.
How fitting, that they should be Master and Servant.
The air around them shifts, taking on a lifeless turn as the light dims. A temple forms beneath their feet in the middle of the cloudy void, and traces of something unseen to the naked eye cross the otherwise empty space as if on a pilgrimage to the other side.
Sieghart disappears after a blink. After all, he can't exist in two places in his own memory, which begins with a thought: I'm tired of this.
You feel them more than you see them. All around you in this crossroad are the souls of the departed. Some are bound for the afterlife; others, someplace where their souls will be sequestered from the universe of life. Be that as it may, you're very much alive with a bone-deep weariness that numbs your body—irritatingly so.
"It's been a long time since I became a Highlander. Everyone dreams of becoming immortal once in their life . . . but, as someone who's lived for a long time, there aren't always good sides to immortality."
At the last word, an otherworldly entity gathers into existence at the center of the temple. He's you—rather, the trace of another you who can be said to reflect your soul—and his eyes shine a cold scarlet as he returns your lethargy with seeming indifference.
"Humans are meant to be mortal," he says. "Defying fate slowly erodes one away. Who can guarantee that a Highlander, blessed with the blood of the gods, will not fall to madness?"
"Absolute power absolutely corrupts," you reply, reciting the mantra that has sustained you for nearly 700 years. "For the Highlanders' honor . . . No, so that I don't become a monster . . . I have exterminated corrupt Highlanders from time immemorial."
"Looking at you," says your reflection, sizing you up from a distance, "you're not that far from your own downfall."
He's right. You can feel the divine blood that courses through your body threatening to overtake your mind, gnawed away by the passage of time far beyond your natural years. How much of you is actually left? If you were to look at yourself, you'd see a husk before a man. Still, your anger flares at the reminder of your weariness.
"Ah . . . maybe. But not today." You glower. "I don't like that arrogant look on your face."
You didn't come here to trade useless words with your echo. So you raise your spear in one hand and your sword in the other, then charge at your alternate self, who meets you halfway with his divine blade drawn, thereby initiating the trial in this realm between life and death.
Time skips. Your persona walks off a fatal stab to the chest that closes within seconds. This doesn't surprise you, seeing as the blood of the gods runs through both of you. But you do scoff.
"Losing humanity leads to corruption? Don't make me laugh. You can't call yourself human from the moment you become immortal. I am a Highlander . . . an existence outside the laws of nature." Anathema to order. An undying curse, doomed to destruct all you seek to protect. So long as you are, you will distort the fabric of existence. "Only those who can surrender their humanity won't fall."
"Do you really think you've given up on your original human self?"
"Tsk." Your anger flares again. If nothing else, you've always been quick to tap into your fury. "If that were possible, this wouldn't be so difficult. That's why I'm still enduring to this day."
Every day is a battle. You dig your heel into the heart of your humanity, stamping out your desires before greed can bloom and expedite your corruption. All you're left with is resentment, and that festering rage crowds out everything else. The air around you shifts, then crackles with the anger that wells from within you before exploding outward—and your blades cross again.
And then there's nothing. The temple remains, but the echoes fade away, as does the memory, returning Ren to his place beside Sieghart.]
[ As the memory plays out, and he witnesses something that is no doubt as personal as what Sieghart had seen of his past, he can't help but be struck by just how familiar this feels...and yet how starkly unfamiliar it is at the same time. They really do have an awful lot in common, don't they?
And yet the canyons that separate them are so very vast. He shouldn't attempt to bridge them with understanding - he knows how this ends. He know how this ends.
As they settle back into the original places, still surrounded by the temple of Sieghart's memory, Wanderer's expression remains pointed downward, unwilling to make the eye contact that could be misconstrued as anything looking like empathy. ]
You truly are the embodiment of an immortal, aren't you?
[ He doesn't clarify whether that's a good or bad thing in his eyes, because he isn't sure yet where he falls. ]
[Sieghart huffs. A recent memory like this is just another day for him. For Ren to be a witness is just a convenient shortcut when there's little to hide.]
But if I weren't, I'd be more beast than man right now.
[If he accepts his humanity, he'll lose his mind. It's as simple as that. Then the Highlanders will run rampant, and Ren will find himself saddled with a worthless Servant.]
[ What a strange thing to ask. Why should it matter whether it aggravates him or not? Though maybe the only reason Ren has to question Sieghart's response at all is because he doesn't want to reflect on it himself. Does it aggravate him? ]
Heh. Don't try to delude me into believing you care what I think.
[ Why would he? Why would he? ]
Maybe you aren't so different from the gods that lord over their subjects on Teyvat. They too believe their ideals to be worth upholding, no matter the cost. Why is it up to you to excise corruption from your world, anyway?
[ That's just how it is with immortals, isn't it? They always step too far - not that he has room to talk. ]
[Delude? No. Candor just happens to be more conducive to a productive relationship than deception. But if Ren doesn't want to think about it, Sieghart won't ask twice.]
I can't change humanity.
[That's far beyond his pay grade. He won't pursue something that isn't his to change, even if he'll cut down anyone who seeks to abuse power.]
But Kounat's legacy is a seed of corruption. As its custodian, my job is to ensure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands . . . and I've yet to meet someone whose hands are right for it.
[ Of course, he thinks. Of course he would be partnered with someone who thinks he can guide humanity...or at least, protect it from itself. The irony isn't lost on Wanderer, how Sieghart can be seen as a mirror to himself. Had his ascension taken form, would he have become a similar kind of custodian?
His divine aim wasn't to rule, after all. To be respected, to be needed, yes. But he didn't want power for its sake alone. ]
How truly arrogant...you know, that alone makes you far more human than you might want to admit.
[ Maybe neither of them are as far from humanity as they want to be. ]
[The words tumble out like a quiet sigh. More than anything, he's weary. As the years go by, he finds himself drawn more and more to that which he's rejected for centuries, all while knowing that it's nothing but poison to his existence. That growing desire is why life is so hard.
But Ren doesn't have to be sucked into that mess. The air around them begins to shift again as Sieghart looks aside.]
Forget everything I said. It has nothing to do with our pact.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Not that he'll say so. What good will that do?
Ren is emotional. Sieghart can gather that much. That's what to which he'll turn his attention, and not some god who's only here as a haunting ghost.]
That place you were taken to . . . Is that the home of your wish?
no subject
[ He shouldn't be reluctant to admit it, when Sieghart has already put two and two together, yet they approach his vulnerable core, a place inside himself that he could have gone this entire war without acknowledging. Maybe Wanderer isn't about to hide his past, but is there any benefit to Sieghart seeing this part of him?
Still, he won't turn away. ]
Tatarasuna. It was my home...a place where I was treated just like everyone else. [ "Like a human", is what he doesn't say. ] It was never meant to last, though. I was betrayed...by someone who later was a colleague. He led me to believe I was betrayed by those who had taken me in, and -- [ A sharp shake of his head. ] Well. You can piece the rest together.
no subject
A pool that would drive even the best of mortals mad. And then there's Ren, carrying betrayals that would sooner destroy than heal him.
Was that the original version?]
I can.
[It's a fragmented finish at best, but enough to demonstrate Ren's love for the people and place that took him in. Sieghart's main goal is to understand, not pry. He turns away to walk through what part of the pavilion he can, and he proceeds with downcast eyes once his back is turned to Ren, tone softening just barely enough to be audible.]
You're more human than divine. Your mind has suffered for it.
[What a torturous existence.]
no subject
Don't. Don't call me human. I'm not--
[ Like them. Not as foolish, as selfish, as tenderhearted. Not as kind, or cruel. Yet his words die on his tongue, because Sieghart is an impartial crowd, and observant to boot. He's already glimpsed more of Ren's true nature than most do. What does his stubborn refusal do other than waste their time?
Instead, he grasps his fists at his side, gaze flashing cold as he shoots Sieghart a glare. ]
So? What about you? Do you consider yourself closer to divinity? By now, you should understand what I think of the gods.
[ The Pavilion around them ripples, dissipating into a formless mist, though the two of them remain in this empty space. ]
no subject
How fitting, that they should be Master and Servant.
The air around them shifts, taking on a lifeless turn as the light dims. A temple forms beneath their feet in the middle of the cloudy void, and traces of something unseen to the naked eye cross the otherwise empty space as if on a pilgrimage to the other side.
Sieghart disappears after a blink. After all, he can't exist in two places in his own memory, which begins with a thought: I'm tired of this.
And then there's nothing. The temple remains, but the echoes fade away, as does the memory, returning Ren to his place beside Sieghart.]
no subject
And yet the canyons that separate them are so very vast. He shouldn't attempt to bridge them with understanding - he knows how this ends. He know how this ends.
As they settle back into the original places, still surrounded by the temple of Sieghart's memory, Wanderer's expression remains pointed downward, unwilling to make the eye contact that could be misconstrued as anything looking like empathy. ]
You truly are the embodiment of an immortal, aren't you?
[ He doesn't clarify whether that's a good or bad thing in his eyes, because he isn't sure yet where he falls. ]
no subject
[Sieghart huffs. A recent memory like this is just another day for him. For Ren to be a witness is just a convenient shortcut when there's little to hide.]
But if I weren't, I'd be more beast than man right now.
[If he accepts his humanity, he'll lose his mind. It's as simple as that. Then the Highlanders will run rampant, and Ren will find himself saddled with a worthless Servant.]
Does it aggravate you?
no subject
Heh. Don't try to delude me into believing you care what I think.
[ Why would he? Why would he? ]
Maybe you aren't so different from the gods that lord over their subjects on Teyvat. They too believe their ideals to be worth upholding, no matter the cost. Why is it up to you to excise corruption from your world, anyway?
[ That's just how it is with immortals, isn't it? They always step too far - not that he has room to talk. ]
no subject
I can't change humanity.
[That's far beyond his pay grade. He won't pursue something that isn't his to change, even if he'll cut down anyone who seeks to abuse power.]
But Kounat's legacy is a seed of corruption. As its custodian, my job is to ensure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands . . . and I've yet to meet someone whose hands are right for it.
no subject
His divine aim wasn't to rule, after all. To be respected, to be needed, yes. But he didn't want power for its sake alone. ]
How truly arrogant...you know, that alone makes you far more human than you might want to admit.
[ Maybe neither of them are as far from humanity as they want to be. ]
no subject
[The words tumble out like a quiet sigh. More than anything, he's weary. As the years go by, he finds himself drawn more and more to that which he's rejected for centuries, all while knowing that it's nothing but poison to his existence. That growing desire is why life is so hard.
But Ren doesn't have to be sucked into that mess. The air around them begins to shift again as Sieghart looks aside.]
Forget everything I said. It has nothing to do with our pact.