necromanswers | Lup | IC Contact Page

... So it seemed. He had addressed me by my name, even if he did not know me well.

[And Lup certainly knew how hard it had been for her to accept it, so while this was all very strange, some matter of significance had to have occurred.

Just come right out and say it, then.]

However, he did say... something else. It seemed that he had a form of bond with... with my husband. He spoke very fondly of him. They were close enough that Zarkon had even bequeathed him a gift, which had arrived here with him. Something that I ... I had apparently created. I could tell.

Lup, he knew my husband ... as he was, before -- [And now the crux of it, squeezing tight at her heart, ears gently lowered, all the implications, those years.] -- from well before he had changed.

Oh, shit. That is a big deal.

[Lup sits a little, more attentive - not that she was idle before, but the spell is going to keep her mostly distracted for a while. Thankfully it only requires her presence and not overmuch of her concentration until it's completed.]

So there could be, like... another you, out there in the universe somewhere? And maybe another Zarkon?

There are too many possibilities. Could it be simply another -- self? Or could it have been me, and I have forgotten? Just started over again? We already know that time is hardly linear when it comes to these other universes, the way they exist or how we get drawn into them.

[Even the Fleet had taught them that much, whatever their experiences had been. She slumps, hands at her temples. Even her voice lacks her usual measured tones, still soft, but the ache is bare.]

... That matters not. I suppose it does no good to think of it, but... perhaps it is because the only other context that anyone ever speaks of Zarkon now is ... as he is in our present. To hear someone else speak of having known him, so genuinely, so recently as the true person that he once was, is ...

[Beyond words, really.]

Mm... it's huge, yeah.

[Though she can't imagine what one might do with that information, if it's true. sounds like there's at least one Honerva in the universe - or a particular timeline - that got part of a happy ending already. The story sounds wild, but that aspect of it could be soothing, in a sense.

Not that she'd say that. Honerva's clearly conflicted about it.]

Are you... okay?

[She doesn't know a lot about Zarkon, but from her understanding, she lost him a long time ago, at least the way he used to be. To hear that he exists that way somewhere else with another version of her could be such a mixed bag.]

[It bothers her in a way she can't quite describe, all because it's part of her life that she'll never really have closure for, despite moving forward, here. Her every intention of moving forward, here. It was unexpected baggage, suitcases that were meant to be left behind.

There was too much she did not know about that other life and too much she likely could not ask about it. Was she okay? Was she ever really okay.]

... I know not. It has... nothing to do with me, right? Memories or not, it was another universe. Another world those had been drawn there were asked to save.

[Were they happy? She hated this flutter of uncertainty, this flutter of her heartbeat.]

But to those from my universe, the others who are... here, he will only ever be known as an evil conqueror. That is how they will speak of him, and of their experiences with the war. Which is their right, because it is not false. When I lost my memories, he lost his gentleness, his capability for love, calling it weakness. He was incapable of addressing me by name, destroyed anything that might have reminded him of the way I used to be.

[Her people. Her son's inquisitiveness. Shell that she was. Honerva had ceased to exist. She followed, let him give her new purpose, oblivious to all else that might have once been.]

I never expected to encounter anyone who would... have met him from before all that.

[Lup is quiet, listening, her focus very carefully split between the spell and Honerva's distress. It's not something she's entirely familiar with - the differences are too extreme - but she can imagine how it might have gone. Bereft of a loved one, of your other half, it can make you cruel, it can change your perspective. Without her and their shared memories, Taako had become colder, more closed off, less willing to share himself with anyone. The walls were built up and still exist to this day, though parts of them were crumbling now. Without her Barry had fallen to darkness, turned to the shadows and used poison, possession, deception to forge a hidden war against what was left of his family. To save the world, yes, and to bring back what was lost, but it changed him. A decade alone changes people. She should know.

Honerva doesn't have to say it, does not even have to recognize it herself for Lup to wholeheartedly believe that she was an integral part of what made a good man great. And the loss of who she was made it all go very badly.

Rather than responding directly, she hums and reaches out, patting the spot on the floor next to her. Outside of the circle, of course, but closer.]

C'mere.

[Being able to put these feelings to words is hard enough, but trusting someone to listen, to know what to do... she makes a soft noise, seeing the gesture for what it was, even being mindful of the ritual in place.]

Ah...

[She can't quite see it the way Lup does, being far too entwined. It felt almost like a paradox, to be able to hold these very different concepts of the man who had been her husband and her lord together so closely and yet separately within her own fractured mind.

Honerva still could not recall her own memories from before they were married, everything that she ever was before had gone into building that life with him. Even when she had forgotten, he had still been the center of her world, her devotion manifesting in her loyalty and servitude. Little wonder that the mere mention of him had stirred her burdens once more.

She carefully moves herself closer, carefully avoiding crossing the lines of circle as she settles herself in the indicated spot next to her.]

[Lup moves to add another stick of incense to the small pyre in the circle, using the burning charcoal to light it, then reaches over to wind her fingers around Honerva's, giving her hand a light squeeze. Rather than respond directly, she closes her eyes and stretches that first hand out over the fire, the incense smoke curling and weaving around it, phantom runes appearing for a split second before dissipating again.]

Close your eyes. [If and when Honerva acquiesces, Lup continues in a murmur,] Can you feel him?

[She might, if she focuses. A soft, subtle pull of the arcane, a familiar signature of magic, a fragment of almost-life siphoning through their joined hands. It's different from the way it was in the fleet, but still unmistakably Lup's.]

[Such preoccupations could keep thoughts from the present moment, and that was no good. Her tension had been so real in that moment; when Lup takes her hand in hers it initially trembles, before it settles. Not alone.

At Lup's words, it hardly takes a moment for Honerva to acquiesce, to breathe out, softly, and focus her senses fully on the magic instead, allowing her eyes to close. Best to clear her mind while she was being invited to sit in on something so personal. And so real.

The current of energy is there, whispering through, certainly different from how they had shared on the fleet, and after a moment or so of the quiet pulsing, it was not difficult to identify... where the flow of the ritual was directing to. Threads of energy being gently tugged away, and woven elsewhere...]

... yes. He is there. Although... he does not yet seem formed.

Yeah, it takes a while.

[Her tone is mild, gently dismissive; that part is normal, it isn't her focus.]

A familiar doesn't come from the wizard who casts the spell- did you know that? It's a spirit from the feywild that I make a pact with by casting the spell. The materials I'm burning is the payment it receives in exchange for its service.

... You have spoken of him as a spirit before. [She murmurs, carefully, amidst the awareness, of sitting there with their clasped hands.] But I did not truly understand the nature of your link, or the purpose of those requirements.

[The fact that he could go to another plane and wait and be safe until Lup would have to call him back like this, she knew; but she had not realized his manifestations were part of a service, an intentional link, rather than something purely created from Lup herself.]

... Is this... okay, for me to be so close to all of this?

[Probably a bit late for that question, but the realization hadn't hit immediately.]

It's fine. As long as you don't disturb the circle, your being here can't affect anything. And even if it could, he'd recognize you're not a threat.

[That isn't the purpose of this, either.]

What I always find interesting is that the feywild is transient- like with any universe, it's a plane of existence that manifests separate from all other universes, all other worlds. So the feywild that I first summoned him from on my homeworld hundreds of years ago isn't the same as the one I called him from in the fleet, and that isn't the same as the feywild that exists in this place. It's never the same spirit- it has its own thoughts, and memories, and experiences that exist outside of ours. But somehow, every time, it's still Ditto.

[She glances over at Honerva, a meaningful smile crossing her lips.]

That's interesting, isn't it?

[Interesting, steeped in layers and possibility, and context. Honerva remains quiet for a moment, head slightly lowered, allowing Lup's words to sink in, before her eyes slowly open, to catch that smile.]

... yes. That is very interesting.

[It wasn't even the word--the right word, really, to convey the depth of it, though the shift in her measured tone knows the weight of it. Lup knew what she was doing, gently tugging at her curiosity. All her life, she'd had this real other plane to interact with. Her hand gets a light squeeze.]

Why do you believe that is?

I think... that the universe has infinite possibilities, but that doesn't mean that constants don't still exist. And there isn't much use in worrying about those infinite possibilities, because infinity doesn't mean anything when the only potential that should matter is the one you experience.

[She reaches out to carefully stir the burning coals with an unlit incense stick, red sparks flitting in the air and mingling with the arcane energy that is still trying to become a cat.]

Ditto is Ditto because he's my familiar. For the two of us, the constant is me. In every universe you exist in, the constant should always be you.

[So maybe there's a Lup somewhere out there with a familiar that likes to be a hawk. Or maybe it goes by a different name. Maybe it's female instead. Maybe she trained as a bard and never learned that spell in the first place. Maybe she's the mortal and Taako's the lich.

And maybe there's a Honerva who got her happy ending, maybe she reconciled with Zarkon, maybe she found her son. Maybe there's one who lost everything, and then some, and never found a path to redemption.

None of it matters. Those people, those different versions- it isn't them. To want to be other is to deny themselves.]

[What a way to strike a chord. Honerva remains quiet for a few moments after Lup speaks, ears lowered, the words resonating, free hand curled at her chest as she reflects on Lup's reasoning for the theory. At the core of it all, identity; who she was and who she had been and who she may have been meant to be, strewn about different stars, ones that haunted her in whispers, even as she worked on building her new self. All universes unto themselves, with their own histories, interacting in their own ways.

Unless this had been her path, all along. To be pulled away from it all unexpectedly, to find ... solace, in another.

There was much value and potential in the present, now. This present. The person sitting at her side, holding her hand, who had known just what to say when she saw her faltering. Always willing to inject meaning when her vision was clouded. This Lup who always knew her own self.

She exhales, softly, eyes opening again, though she smiles once more, feeling -- well, proud, of Lup, really, as grateful as she is toward her.]

... Quite a belief to have. Your views of such things are always so... enlightening. Perhaps I had always been turned toward the prospects of the infinite. The promise of knowledge that might only be found beyond the veil we could see, those secrets just waiting to be discovered. Always looking outward, and not... inward.

[No wonder she'd lost herself. What a deep, dark, rabbit hole to fall into for untold years.]

Well, thank god you have me around to spin you 180 degrees, you big nerd.

[Lup reaches out with her free hand to poke Honerva irreverently in the forehead. Too serious, way too serious. She's glad, though- that Honerva understands, that she is taking those words to heart. They're not without meaning, not for either of them.]

I've heard it's good practice to look both ways before you cross any road.

[ ... Ah.

Her ears flatten, straighten, the little flutter of a moment's confusion as she processes Lup's response. It was not the first time Lup had ever poked her in such a way and not likely the last. In this case, Honerva couldn't really help it; taking certain aspects all too seriously was part of how she interpreted the world. Especially with such a lesson being imparted here. She had to find meaning in such things or else be forever pining for what was gone.

But Lup was ever a reminder as well, that even such considerations need not be so dire. Not while they were here, able to speak freely like this. She exhales softly, trying to only breathe around that weight she carried in her chest.]

... Indeed. When did you get so wise?

[A light playfulness, even. Lup, ever the teacher.]

Excuse you, I've always been wise as fuck. It's your own fault for not listening.

[Lup tosses another stick of incense on the coals, a fresh wave of arcana washing over them.]

[Honerva pauses for a moment, though makes a soft sound of her amusement in her acknowledgement of the banter in progress. It was about the reaction she had anticipated, anyway, a chance to lighten the mood before she inevitably veered them in another serious direction.

'You have a point.' She replies, in Elvish. See, she's practicing! She listens! Or maybe she just doesn't know the succinct phrase of "touché".]

[Lup grins, shaking her head.]

Well, well, look at you! Still a little formal, and your accent needs work, but you nailed it. Solid B-plus.

It is better than satisfactory, though there is far more nuance to grasp.

[Let alone having enough concentration to allow for the language to be heard at all, the outside factor to all of this. Still... there is warmth in that praise and she accepts it, with a slight dip of her head. To know that the effort alone is still worth something has certainly been part of the 180 degree mindset. And hey, not bad for only a few months worth of practice in between everything else they were working on. There was still far to go.

She closes her eyes again, taking in the soothing properties of the ritual and sensing, there, the progress of the familiar.]

Aside from that, however... I have also wondered, if there is a day that the two of you consider your own. To be... celebrated.

[Even knowing what she does of their history, surely they'd have more context for such a thing than she would, is what she thinks.]

[She snorts at that.]

Implying that every day isn't a valid day for celebrating us?

[Probably not the answer she was looking for, but it's about the level of seriousness she seems to give to that particular subject. Honerva's welcome to push for it if she likes, though.]

[Huh. It had been a while since she had brushed against Lup's walls like that, and to the amusement she only falls silent for a few moments. Perhaps it was warranted; it wasn't fair to ask such a question of someone as changeable as Lup, who had gone through so much.]

I thought it might be... nice, to build a new tradition. If that is something you would want.

Hmmm.

[Lup considers it a moment. Honerva is making an effort, here, and she can acknowledge that much. And who knows, maybe it could be fun. It's been a long, long time, after all.]

I don't know how well the calendar would translate here, but we picked our own when we were 12. [That age, if Honerva remembers, is significant for the both of them, but Lup especially.] Midsummer, the day before the festival- so we'd always have a party, even if no one was around to celebrate us.

[And there was really only ever one person who did. She died a long, long time ago, leaving behind only a handful of good memories and a flawless turkey recipe.]

[The memories of others stand out far more in her mind than her own. Her time spent with Lup's had particularly had left impressions, all overwhelming in the layers of sensation and experience. The remnants of her own life were not nearly as rich, not when they were hardly her own memories. Her husband's impressions of her. That's what it had been.

So now she listens, nodding at the familiarity of the age, the unspoken significance there.]

... I admit that my grasp of any calendar system is not sufficient.

[None of the ones she was accustomed to would be relevant here. She was less certain about... how to create a new birthday tradition, but she wanted it to mean something, going forward.]

But I should like to learn yours. Perhaps we may find a way to determine what would align with what exists here.

Lup | IC Contact Page | Hugtopia

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