zenderael_rl | Duncan + Ezra // Up To Speed

Entry tags:

Duncan + Ezra // Up To Speed

Who: Ezra and Duncan
When: Monday, 15/8
Where: The Likeness' room in the Temple
Before/After: n/a
Warnings: Duncan and Ezra. What do you think. Anything else, tba

It took only a quick phonecall to get Ezra moving from his chambers to the room of the Likeness in the Temple. And it was mostly a temple, some of the wall slowly being fitted back together and much of the inside cleared of the majority of the debris, swept and polished with loving hands of the poor clerics that had been devastated by the ruin of the building. Ezra'd been told one of them had actually begun to cry upon seeing the leaves and branches Aerveas' had cut off from the Tree on the ground.

Well, he supposed, they had the space to react like that now. No sense looking down on it.

Despite his attempts otherwise, he felt a little out of the loop. Nothing he could cure until he went out on his own instead of staying cooped up inside. Whitehall came with him to the entrance of the Room, and was summarily dismissed until his presence was required once more. Dressed officially, but in the most casual sense, Ezra stepped into the temple again alongside a cleric who still deemed it necessary to accompany him in until he was beside the Vahishta.

Right eye covered up with an eyepatch and a deep scar across his nose that lead up under it, his grin still managed to look a little sheepish as he lifted his hand up in greeting.

"First thing's first- should we make a motion to call this Neo Bastan?"

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He took it as Duncan's not having been around that kept him calm, outwardly at least. Ezra had too much that he couldn't separate from conspiracy to let him keep calm.

The Likeness was more than a Likeness, whatever happened.

"Do you remember anything about the event X-Dav had on? I didn't get to play much of it because of work. Is there anything there or just all the same stuff we always knew?"

Ugh, ugh, ugh. He didn't want to be in here anymore.

"Look, can we just- the room's down the hall, can we go talk some more there?"

"Yeah." No argument there. He gave the tree--and the gouge in it--one last look before turning to lead Ezra down the hall to the Vahishta's chambers.

He didn't know the hallways that well yet, but he at least had the path to his own space memorized. It was a whole wing all to himself, basically, with the entry opening into the same sitting room where Ezra had met with the old Vahishta. Beyond that was a bedroom, study, personal library, and bath, neatly arranged in something akin to an apartment layout. There were guards posted outside the front door, but once they moved past that into the sitting room, they were alone.

Much of the decor had been pilfered by rogues, but the furniture wasn't so easy to make off with. Duncan's rifle lay across the seat of one armchair, but that left several other seats available. He didn't take any of them. He leaned over the back of that same armchair, his arms loosely folded over it.

"The event," he started, "was running through the original battleground with all the original heroes. At the end we fought Xumurdad, only It was like half-stuck in a tree. I think I have screencaps lying around somewhere."

"Thanks," he muttered, and trailed along.

When they got in, Ezra took only a moment to choose a chair and sit. He sighed as he did so, leaning forward and resting his arms across his knees, hands folded between them.

"Half-stuck already, huh?" He hadn't known that. There was a pause and he said, "so... the Vahishta, then... same dude?"

That, that he didn't like thinking on. Someone that had been able to shape the entirety of the clerics' faith over the course of two thousand years... someone who had maybe been obsessed with Xumurdad from the very start.

"Yeah. I even double-checked it with the wiki." Of course someone had grabbed caps of all the 10 heroes and stuck them up on the Zenderael wiki. Like that was even a question.

"Same model, completely different hair and facial hair. With the cover story he used, he probably just changed his hairstyles every time a 'new' Vahishta took over."

He rubbed his chin while he sat, unable to keep from looking disturbed.

"Ever wonder what kind of power a guy could build up in that amount of time? I mean, besides near-immortality."

He looked like he had an answer, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"He told me early on... back when we were starting to look into this stuff, the greycloaks, the merging... I don't remember if the Asha was crazy then, but the Vahishta said that he could connect to Earth, too. Only for short periods, though." He looked up to Duncan, uncertain. "I don't doubt that he could, I just wonder if the length of time was a lie or not."

He hesitated. "The Mazda was almost killed by a cleric. Er- Morvarid, not Lera. That was what prompted the succession. Look, I know this is really roundabout, but what I'm saying is that I think the Vahishta was pretty in with the greycloaks, and I think you need to be careful of your own guild. Like, obviously, not all of them, but there'll be some still involved. And I don't think they'll be just some random new recruits, either."

Duncan's eyebrows rose. Initially he thought Ezra meant raw magical power, like a tree that just kept getting bigger and bigger the older it grew, but with the ex-Vahishta being--well--ex, that wouldn't have been a concern anymore.

Power over people, he realized. His eyebrows lowered, knitting together, as he listened to the rest of what Ezra had to say.

At least one cleric in the greycloaks. The Vahishta could connect to Earth. He'd been hiding his immortality behind a conspiracy of scouting and killing children over the centuries. He was as old as the defeat of Xumurdad Itself. The Likeness was full of stale, stagnant blood.

Duncan let out a long, slow breath, a tension in his shoulders as he lifted a hand and lowered his head to meet it, fingers pushing through his hair, palm settling above his right temple. "When I talked to him..." He paused, getting his thoughts together, figuring out where he was going with this. "He told me that Xumurdad had brought him there for a purpose, but it wasn't his place to guess at it. It was like..."

He looked up, dropping his hand to gesture with it. "I mean I'm from fucking Texas, okay? You can't throw a rock without hitting a Bible-thumper. And you know the ones who are like 'God has a plan for us, it's not our place to question it' but they say it like they know God's will?

"That's what this was like. He kept saying Xumurdad's purpose was unknowable and not for him to guess at, but I got the feeling that he thought he knew exactly what Xumurdad's plan was, and that it was for me to take his place."

Edited 2013-06-04 14:57 (UTC)

"I've met a few in my time like that, yeah." Growing up christian, being, in some distant fashion, still christian, he'd met a person or two with that mentality. His mother said it sometimes, but she never seemed to have an idea. It just seemed to be a consolation, not permission.

"So," he said, drawing the syllable out, "did you get the memo?..."

Not that he was sure he wanted resurrect Xumurdad to be the header.

"Uhhh..." What memo? was the first response to come to mind, but he knew how dense he could be, so he stopped to think about it before speaking.

"Xumurdad hasn't said a word to me, if that's what you mean."

"Nothing like, 'Heimdall, bring me back to life' or anything like that?"

Because that part was actually kinda fucking important.

"Whatever the lighting up on the Likeness is doing, he may have been helping to facilitate it. However he was able to open up a path between Zen and Earth... that might have been how greycloaks traveled. How... how the Ahura and Spenta traveled."

Ugh. He didn't like to think about it.

"What kind of guy was he to fight Xumurdad, defeat It and break It apart, only to want to seem to try and bring it all together again...?"

"Nnnope. The Denizen had some words for me, but, ha ha fuck that guy, right?" It came out a lot more nervous and a lot less casual than he meant it to.

The Denizen was fucking scary. Joking about it was a coping mechanism, but that only carried so far.

The forced smile fell quickly; he turned somber and thoughtful, considering Ezra's next words. "Yeah... I guess that'd make sense." Clerics weren't supposed to be able to do shit like that, but 2050 years old... He had to have known some secrets no one else knew.

He buried a hand in his hair again, looking down at the chair in front of him. A thought hit him. He paused and looked up again. "What if he didn't, though? What if that story's bullshit, too?"

"Eheheh..." An awkward chuckle to match Duncan's nervous kidding around. He'd heard a lot about the Denizen. He wasn't so keen on the idea. Less so knowing it was real.

He rubbed his hands together, looking at first thoughtful, then more disturbed as the thought played out. "Well... he'd have been in prime position to change the story to how he saw fit..."

He rubbed at his mouth again, clearly disliking the new information and the dark path it was leading them down. "So what do we do, then? What'll happen with all the organs lit up? What if that brings It back?"

He frowned, both arms folded again, staring down at the chair's cushion. Gosh, it sure was a shame that the one person who could've answered these questions was dead and permanently, wasn't it? Fuck. Burning the body had seemed like a good idea at the time...

(Murdering him had never seemed like a good idea. He'd just done it anyway.)

"Maybe..." He trailed off, biting his lip, not sure he wanted to voice the idea. It was probably a bad idea, too. "I mean, if we want to know... It's the greycloaks in the church who are the most likely to have the information, right? And I'm in a prime position to find out who they are..."

Ezra didn't seem all that keen on the idea either. "Maybe... maybe. This is all conjecture, after all. You might not find anything. But I could just be warning you off this because wow does it fucking suck to work with people you don't trust."

Oh Ezra if only you knew.

"I don't even know what we'd be looking out for now. Complete replacement of the organs? We've got a few pieces missing. Maybe we're just like... powering up stations or something."

He gave a nod, knowing what Ezra meant, but feeling like it'd be insensitive to say he understood. He didn't understand, not the way Ezra did. His experiences working with people he didn't trust were, what, petty theft from lab partners? That was hardly equivalent to having the fate of a nation riding on you.

"I'll keep my eyes open, at least," he said. "Let you know if I find anything. Who knows, maybe the greycloaks are done. Maybe there isn't anything else, maybe the merge was all they wanted."

He didn't sound like he believed that. But man, it would be nice to be able to believe it.

"Do that. Lera's somewhat in the loop... so is Rhys... I haven't known how to talk to anyone about it. I figured for the most part you had first dibs.

"Or... whoever became Vahishta in your place."

He rubbed his hands together, nervous, not sure he believed that either. "What do they gain from it, if that's it...? Greycloaks aren't just clerics..." Assassins had been predominant, from what they'd seen of the Hutchins' footage. They had seemed to be the overwhelming number when he had fought them with Nadir before the spellsword had been transported to Earth. He tried to think back that far. Had there been any other noticeable class?... "No, I'm pretty sure it's more than that." He rubbed his leg with the palm of his hand. "...I just don't think I want to say what it is."

Dibs seemed like an odd way to put it, when it was more like having something thrust into your hands. "That's thoughtful of you, thanks." There was a wry sort of smile as he said it, looking askance toward Ezra. "I think all of us should probably be kept informed. I mean, we're in this together, right?"

Greycloaks weren't just clerics, no. In fact them having any clerics at all had been news to him. From what he'd seen, it was rogues or assassins, possibly hunters. Light armour types with light weapons. "What do you think it is?" he asked. His tone was low, recognizing the seriousness of the question.

"It's lighting up," he said, rubbing his hands together. "What happens when it all goes on? Is It gonna go mechazilla on us?" He shook his head. "Or maybe there's a next step. You can't resurrect It without Its parts. Maybe we're just... temporary. Maybe we're chargers, and once it's all up to a hundred percent all you gotta do is... pop," he said, making an accompanying hand motion.

It wasn't a reassuring hand motion.

"I don't doubt that greycloaks have been driving us to the organs. The Vahishta may've been in on it. Who do clerics love more than It? There's a common goal there, and all I can see it being is Its resurrection."

He flinched a little at the 'pop' and accompanying hand motion. Not reassuring at all, no.

And neither was the thought of Its resurrection. Duncan had read so much lore he was more qualified for a Zenderean history PhD than a genetics one. Nothing in the lore ever referred to Xumurdad's comeback as a good thing. Even the ones who wanted it, the most devout, spoke of the perfect chaos It would deliver and the world as ruled by something that was fairly unfair. That was the positive end. The negative end was that everything would be destroyed in Xumurdad's fury and It would start over.

Nothing very appealing, as long-term outcomes went.

Duncan considered the words for a moment, silently thoughtful, his eyes on the floor and his arms folded over the chair.

If the Vahishta was in on it... If the clerics in the greycloaks really meant that the greycloaks were trying to resurrect It...

"Fuck," he breathed. He looked up, resigned. "Ezra. If we're gonna do anything about this, we need to know from the inside. And it's looking like I'm the only one who can get there."

"Like fuck you are," he snapped automatically, whether it was true or not. He glared at Duncan- strangely effective even with only one eye- before he settled down, looking down to the carpet.

"... if... if it is, we're sharing the news first. We don't go into this blind, or totally alone. That kind of shit attitude's already gotten people killed that should still be alive."

He looked up to Duncan, as though to challenge him on that. Rhys hadn't said anything about visiting the mage yet, but the same sinking feeling was in his stomach, partly afraid Rhys wouldn't tell him. This wasn't something to delve into alone.

"..those greycloaks are scary shit, Heim," he said after a moment, looking down again. "They don't pull any fucking punches. And technically speaking, I wasn't even there."

Duncan recoiled slightly, taken aback by the forcefulness of Ezra's reply. As Ezra continued, he relaxed a bit, returning to his original position.

There would be no challenge from Duncan. He could be plenty stupid--but not that kind of stupid. Not the kind of stupid that tried to take on everything and refused help where it was available.

"Hey," he said, trying to mitigate a little, his hands held up in surrender, "we're all in this shit together. I'll bring this to the others and we can all work out what's the best course of action, alright?"

His arms folded over the chair again. He tried to smile but it was more uncomfortable than reassuring, his eyes on the wall to his right. "I'm not exactly keen on returning to the Dark permanently, you know? I am the last person you need to worry about taking unnecessary risks."

Ezra settled a little, tired and not wholly satisfied, but he nodded all the same. "Right. I don't think we'll have to dive into it anyway. Everyone's going to have to get used to the merge. And with the Armaiti God fuckin' knows where, might be a good time to just get settled in."

He looked at Duncan sharply, then down again, sheepish. He'd forgotten. "Fair enough," he mumbled. "Can't say I haven't met my share of people who've gone there. You holding up with that okay?"

"Yeah," though it wasn't so much agreement as acknowledgement. He didn't feel qualified to voice any dissent; Ezra had been here a hell of a lot longer than him and had a better sense of the way of things here. It just didn't sit right with Duncan to have a problem sitting there and not be working on it in some way.

He'd dig through the old Vahishta's chambers and see what he could find, at least. There had to be something rogues wouldn't have bothered with while they had the run of the place. That was something Duncan could do without attracting any attention, and thus without attracting any danger.

They could bring this up to the other guild leaders once things had settled a little. Or once the greycloaks re-emerged, but he didn't think it was wise to wait that long.

The question made him visibly uncomfortable. He dropped his head, hand buried in his hair. "Yeah, I'm all right," was an almost automatic answer.

He wasn't, though. Not as much as he wanted to think. He'd been unable to sleep until Nix's potion had forced him to. Once that hurdle had been crossed his brain seemed to realize sleep was not dangerous, but he still found it impossible to leave his eyes closed for too long without a bright light to shine through his eyelids and alleviate the darkness. Last night he hadn't dreamed of the Denizen, but he'd dreamed of being confronted by an unseen Something at unexpected turns while going about his life, leaving him unsettled.

There was a brief flicker of panic every time he walked into a dark room, the moment in between opening the door and fumbling on the lights. The church had no light-switches. He was quickly mastering the simple light spell that all magic-users had the ability for.

And he'd become especially sensitive to cold. In equatorial weather, Duncan was wearing long sleeves and two layers, and he was comfortable.

He did not want to risk being cold ever again.

"Think I developed a fear of the dark," he admitted. That one was impossible not to notice, and sounded reasonable enough. He didn't want to say he'd also started realizing he didn't want to let anyone stay down there anymore, and he didn't realize the cold issues on a conscious level. "But it's manageable."

It hadn't been a light question, and so the answer was given a serious nod and a thoughtful look down. "Yeah... yeah, Rhys said that about the cleric he has with him that brought Bristol back. Said they both got soul sickness from the resurrection. I didn't even realize it could backfire on the cleric like that."

He rubbed his hands together briefly, feeling a little cold himself. There were issues of faith at work there, but this was something he'd accepted simply because it wasn't something he could deny. "Yeah, I've heard... I've heard a lot about the Dark. Part and parcel of living with clerics and paladins. It's a pretty common subject. I wonder... I wonder if there's anything else." He shrugged a little.

"What's your plan now?"

"Yeah, resurrection's actually pretty dangerous if you don't know what you're doing." But not for the Vahishta. Not the same way, at least. Soul sickness wasn't a risk Duncan had to worry about.

He lifted his head, his hand moving down to his mouth. His eyes slid toward Ezra, a sort of direness in his face, subtle, but there. "I really fucking hope so," he muttered.

What was his plan now? He didn't have one. He had a for-now, which was to find what he could from the ex-Vahishta's records, work on fixing the epidemic, and learn all the things his bishops and cardinals were shoving at him to learn. All that had to calm down before he could actually plan for anything.

"Don't think I have one yet," he answered. "Right now I'm just sort of going along with whatever needs to be done. Cure some diseases, learn some shit about my job--you know?

"But I'll dig through the old Vahishta's stuff and see what I can find, and when I get a spare minute I'll send an e-mail to the others to lay out what we know and what we can do about the greycloaks."

"Seems like." The cleric had never seemed the jumpy type, but the last he'd seen her... well, he didn't know her that well anyway. He always forgot her name, too.

Fighting back that chill, he continued to rub his hands together, looking back at Duncan and straightening in his chair a little bit as he spoke, nodding here and there. Yes, getting on the bandwagon was probably going to be the easiest bit about this, and that in itself wasn't too easy. But he had an advantage with the merged worlds, he supposed. Coming in to vanilla Zen hadn't been a smooth transition, and he felt that his efforts to wedge himself into his position had created something of a ... a more inflexible attitude than anyone that had come later.

It had changed a lot of things, but there wasn't much to be done about it now, so...

"The effects of the epidemic should die down soon, shouldn't they? I don't like so many clerics out of the game. Ah, I mean, it shouldn't be a huge problem or anything... I just get antsy real easy these days." Understandable, of course. "So, sorry about that in advance."

He sat up and then just slumped back, arms folding in front of him loosely. "I remember Rhys mentioning the old Asha having issues with the Vahishta, but from what I understand, he'd pretty much lost it. But I wonder if there's anything left over...? Could talk to Gabriel about it."

Duncan + Ezra // Up To Speed

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