[ Cid is at his desk as usual, writing in a small leather-bound journal. He looks up when Clive steps inside and gives him a brief nod in greeting before he starts wrapping up what he's doing.
It feels as if it's been a lifetime since Clive had sulked into his solar the first time, suspicious and resentful, barely willing to share a glass of wine. Now he's complimenting the decorating, so to speak. Cid smiles briefly as he tucks a bottle of ink into the drawer. ]
Thought I'd see what it might look like, and now it's gone and grown on me so... [ He makes a gesture toward the outside. He'd kept it. He'd thought of setting up some kind of memorial for Kenneth, and Martel, and all of the others... but nothing really felt right. This, at least, was a reminder of the future that had finally come into their reach in the wake of all that tragedy.
He pushes himself to his feet and rolls some of the stiffness out of his shoulders. They've done this so many times before, he knows that he can just launch into it and sort things out with Clive as they go... but even so, Cid looks him over, his brow slightly furrowed. ] You sure you're alright?
[ He looks around as Cid finishes up, glancing back over his shoulder as the door rolls shut behind him. It's an excuse to not look at him as Cid asks that question, and it's as loaded as they come, in Clive's mind. He wants to tell Cid he's fine, because there are more important things at hand, but the truth of the matter is he isn't fine. And it's very much related to what they're here to discuss.
He takes a breath and turns back to Cid, shaking his head before moving to sit on the couch. ]
No. Are you?
[ He looks up at Cid, hands folded between his knees, leaning forward on the couch. ] Are any of us, after that?
[ Well, that answers that question. He can't say that he's surprised.
Cid pulls out a bottle of wine and a pair of old cups, and sets himself to pouring them each a drink. Leave it to Clive to be the one asking after him. ]
I've been telling myself it was a dream, or a vision of sorts. Shouldn't put too much stock in it. [ He walks over to hand one of the cups to Clive before he settles on the couch himself, one leg folded under him so that he can face his shaken protege. He looks off for a moment, gaze unfocused. ]
Doesn't make it feel any less real. Like one of those nightmares that follow you into the waking world. [ Cid shakes his head. ] What is it that's got you so rattled? What part of it?
[ Cid can make a half-dozen guesses himself, but this one isn't for him. It's all well and good having your demons dragged out, but sometimes you've got to name them for yourself. ]
[ He takes the cup without comment, fingers gripping the outside rim as he swirls the liquid inside in thought, rolling the question around in his mind for a moment or two before he raises the cup to his lips to take a drink. ]
Other than all of it? [ He swallows the liquid, chasing the taste of the wine with his tongue on his lips, like maybe it'll help sweeten the words that are about to come out of them next. He glances over at Cid before affixing his gaze on the wall ahead. ]
The name. Mythos. It's what Ultima insisted on calling me, what Barnabas called me. And that while I could easily become a man, I chose to stay in the body of Ifrit— of Mythos. And so I wonder... Is there a part of me that does want that?
[ The thought tastes vile, and he takes another drink, longer this time, nearly draining the cup by half. ]
[ Other than all of it? That earns him a soft exhale, brief enough that it's nearly a laugh, though Cid doesn't find anything about the situation particularly funny. All of it encompasses eight hundred odd years... time that they don't have, despite what the dream might have told them.
He lets Clive sort through it himself, watching his face. It's a complicated question. Jill had been kind enough to fill him in on the broad strokes of it all, Ultima's plan and Mythos' role in it.
Cid props his arm against the back of the couch and leans his cheek against his fist. He's silent for a moment after Clive speaks, thoughtful. ]
You had the power to save all Valisthea — still do, I imagine, given the right circumstances, whether you go by Mythos or Clive.... but in the time that I've known you, you've never coveted power — only purpose. [ Cid shifts to take a swallow of wine himself. (It's a good thing, too, because the liquid sloshes precariously when he gestures toward Clive with the cup still in-hand.) ] Perhaps the question is twofold — if you wanted to remain as Mythos, then to what purpose would you wish for it? Here and now; what path could Fate offer, that you might yet be tempted to embrace it?
[ It feels like an easy question: exactly what he got, with all the trappings aside. He swirls the liquid in his cup as he thinks on it, ]
Her. [ It feels cliche and cheesy and too shallow of an answer, but if it really came down to it, if Fate walked up to him and told him he could have Jill and a family and wouldn't have to worry about anything else for the rest of his days, he'd just have to become Mythos to do it— ] One child. Maybe two, if she's willing. Just a place for us, away from everything that took everything from her.
[ He sets the cup down and buries his face in his hands, because even then, he still doesn't know if he'd say yes. ] But not if it meant giving up my humanity. She'd never forgive me for that, and I'd never be able to live with myself if she didn't. But if the question is temptation? [ He looks up at Cid, tired, ashamed, so in love with Jill that it hurts. ] I can't say it wouldn't tempt me. And I can't rightfully say that even with all the other chocobo shit that fantasy thrust on us, that I'm not grateful for being able to have a home and a son with her.
[ It's not an answer that surprises him, to be sure.
Cid takes another swallow of wine, exhaling softly. Gods, the man has eyes like the saddest, wettest dog he's ever seen. Sometimes Cid forgets that he's watched him cleave a wyvern in half with one hand. ]
Clive... You won't get eight centuries. I can't promise that you'll get eight days, if you ask me to guess... But there's no reason for you to give up your humanity to have all of that. The lass seems to like you well enough to marry, and there's no shortage of children in search of a happy home, if that's what you'd like.
[ Cid leans in to give him a firm pat on the back. ] Could be that it'll be easier than you think. Can't be tempted when you've already got your heart's desire.
[ He sits up again, his hand shifting to Clive's shoulder to give it a firm squeeze before he pulls away. ] And anyway, I don't believe that this dream was a true vision of the future. If you're going to beat yourself up about something, see that it's something you've actually done.
[ He startles at the pat on his back, listening so intently to Cid's words he hadn't really seen him move to make the motion, his look of anguish and pain turning to almost comedic shock before settling on reluctant acceptance. (And, maybe, his cheeks flushing a little at Cid referring to his heart's desire.)
He makes to respond— to let Cid know that he and Jill have already agreed to continue to consider Dan Heng their son if he'll allow it, but Cid's already sitting up and moving away, and all Clive can do then is snort, shaking his head. ]
Believe me, my own list is pretty long. We'll start with being born and work our way down. [ He drains the wine in his cup; he's mostly kidding, of course, and he dangles the cup in his fingers as he swallows, licking the last few drops from his lips before he continues. ]
If it wasn't a vision of the future what was it? Dion said something about it being someone else's fantasy — but why?
[ It's the distraction from sinking into self loathing that he needs, his gaze slowly going from sad wet dog to sad but alert and thinking wet dog, brow furrowing as he looks at Cid. ] What purpose would this serve, if not to tempt us in some way? Jill and I both were given something we've thought long lost to us, others I know were given powers either grown from abilities they already have or better. [ A thought strikes him then, and he glances away for a brief moment trying to capture it in full before speaking it aloud. ]
[ Well, he did walk into that one, didn't he? He knows that Clive is joking, but after all they've been through, it still manages to strike a nerve. Cid's eyes narrow, and though his tone is as sarcastic as ever, there's something sharp in it. ] Right, if you skipped that one you'd be doing us all a favor. Could have left me to take half-measures for the rest of my bloody life, left your brother and your soon-to-be wife to sort themselves without you, and oh, right — the entire realm could go straight to shit without you there to save it. [ Cid drains his own cup and sets it down. ] Your list is shit. We'll do mine next time.
[ He's trying, for whatever it's worth, to get back on track. There's no one who gets under his skin in quite the same way as Clive, but it's not really Clive that he's angry with. Every now and again the man says something off-hand that reminds Cid of how eager the world had been to discard him, and how much of that mark still remains on his soul. It's unremarkable, is the terrible truth of it. There are plenty of people like Clive who don't make it even this far.
Cid gets up to get more wine.
He lets Clive speak, working through the problem aloud (though his shoulders tense at the casual mention of Dion). Clive's gotten a little more canny in the intervening years, Cid has to admit. ]
Could be that we were inside of it. I can't say, if I'm honest. Don't know enough about the damned thing. [ He sighs, returning to the couch with the entire bottle of wine in-hand. He catches Clive's eye and wiggles the bottle, silently offering to pour him another cup. ] Feels as if we're connected to it somehow, to be sure.
[ It's hard to explain that particular tug, but he'd felt something like it when he was young... a call to leave the outer isles and find himself in the twins, where Ramuh had come to awaken in him. ] I suspect that you're on the right track. It was intended to be a temptation.
When I returned to the Horizon earlier, I found a message scrawled on my desk. We are you, and you are us. You are not theirs. The people of this world can't connect to the Singularity in the way that we do, so far as we know, which means that the author must be like us. A fellow Summoned, who's more powerful than we know, or something more like what we became... the gods of this world, perhaps.
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It feels as if it's been a lifetime since Clive had sulked into his solar the first time, suspicious and resentful, barely willing to share a glass of wine. Now he's complimenting the decorating, so to speak. Cid smiles briefly as he tucks a bottle of ink into the drawer. ]
Thought I'd see what it might look like, and now it's gone and grown on me so... [ He makes a gesture toward the outside. He'd kept it. He'd thought of setting up some kind of memorial for Kenneth, and Martel, and all of the others... but nothing really felt right. This, at least, was a reminder of the future that had finally come into their reach in the wake of all that tragedy.
He pushes himself to his feet and rolls some of the stiffness out of his shoulders. They've done this so many times before, he knows that he can just launch into it and sort things out with Clive as they go... but even so, Cid looks him over, his brow slightly furrowed. ] You sure you're alright?
no subject
He takes a breath and turns back to Cid, shaking his head before moving to sit on the couch. ]
No. Are you?
[ He looks up at Cid, hands folded between his knees, leaning forward on the couch. ] Are any of us, after that?
no subject
Cid pulls out a bottle of wine and a pair of old cups, and sets himself to pouring them each a drink. Leave it to Clive to be the one asking after him. ]
I've been telling myself it was a dream, or a vision of sorts. Shouldn't put too much stock in it. [ He walks over to hand one of the cups to Clive before he settles on the couch himself, one leg folded under him so that he can face his shaken protege. He looks off for a moment, gaze unfocused. ]
Doesn't make it feel any less real. Like one of those nightmares that follow you into the waking world. [ Cid shakes his head. ] What is it that's got you so rattled? What part of it?
[ Cid can make a half-dozen guesses himself, but this one isn't for him. It's all well and good having your demons dragged out, but sometimes you've got to name them for yourself. ]
no subject
Other than all of it? [ He swallows the liquid, chasing the taste of the wine with his tongue on his lips, like maybe it'll help sweeten the words that are about to come out of them next. He glances over at Cid before affixing his gaze on the wall ahead. ]
The name. Mythos. It's what Ultima insisted on calling me, what Barnabas called me. And that while I could easily become a man, I chose to stay in the body of Ifrit— of Mythos. And so I wonder... Is there a part of me that does want that?
[ The thought tastes vile, and he takes another drink, longer this time, nearly draining the cup by half. ]
no subject
He lets Clive sort through it himself, watching his face. It's a complicated question. Jill had been kind enough to fill him in on the broad strokes of it all, Ultima's plan and Mythos' role in it.
Cid props his arm against the back of the couch and leans his cheek against his fist. He's silent for a moment after Clive speaks, thoughtful. ]
You had the power to save all Valisthea — still do, I imagine, given the right circumstances, whether you go by Mythos or Clive.... but in the time that I've known you, you've never coveted power — only purpose. [ Cid shifts to take a swallow of wine himself. (It's a good thing, too, because the liquid sloshes precariously when he gestures toward Clive with the cup still in-hand.) ] Perhaps the question is twofold — if you wanted to remain as Mythos, then to what purpose would you wish for it? Here and now; what path could Fate offer, that you might yet be tempted to embrace it?
no subject
Her. [ It feels cliche and cheesy and too shallow of an answer, but if it really came down to it, if Fate walked up to him and told him he could have Jill and a family and wouldn't have to worry about anything else for the rest of his days, he'd just have to become Mythos to do it— ] One child. Maybe two, if she's willing. Just a place for us, away from everything that took everything from her.
[ He sets the cup down and buries his face in his hands, because even then, he still doesn't know if he'd say yes. ] But not if it meant giving up my humanity. She'd never forgive me for that, and I'd never be able to live with myself if she didn't. But if the question is temptation? [ He looks up at Cid, tired, ashamed, so in love with Jill that it hurts. ] I can't say it wouldn't tempt me. And I can't rightfully say that even with all the other chocobo shit that fantasy thrust on us, that I'm not grateful for being able to have a home and a son with her.
no subject
Cid takes another swallow of wine, exhaling softly. Gods, the man has eyes like the saddest, wettest dog he's ever seen. Sometimes Cid forgets that he's watched him cleave a wyvern in half with one hand. ]
Clive... You won't get eight centuries. I can't promise that you'll get eight days, if you ask me to guess... But there's no reason for you to give up your humanity to have all of that. The lass seems to like you well enough to marry, and there's no shortage of children in search of a happy home, if that's what you'd like.
[ Cid leans in to give him a firm pat on the back. ] Could be that it'll be easier than you think. Can't be tempted when you've already got your heart's desire.
[ He sits up again, his hand shifting to Clive's shoulder to give it a firm squeeze before he pulls away. ] And anyway, I don't believe that this dream was a true vision of the future. If you're going to beat yourself up about something, see that it's something you've actually done.
I can provide a list, if you've run short.
no subject
He makes to respond— to let Cid know that he and Jill have already agreed to continue to consider Dan Heng their son if he'll allow it, but Cid's already sitting up and moving away, and all Clive can do then is snort, shaking his head. ]
Believe me, my own list is pretty long. We'll start with being born and work our way down. [ He drains the wine in his cup; he's mostly kidding, of course, and he dangles the cup in his fingers as he swallows, licking the last few drops from his lips before he continues. ]
If it wasn't a vision of the future what was it? Dion said something about it being someone else's fantasy — but why?
[ It's the distraction from sinking into self loathing that he needs, his gaze slowly going from sad wet dog to sad but alert and thinking wet dog, brow furrowing as he looks at Cid. ] What purpose would this serve, if not to tempt us in some way? Jill and I both were given something we've thought long lost to us, others I know were given powers either grown from abilities they already have or better. [ A thought strikes him then, and he glances away for a brief moment trying to capture it in full before speaking it aloud. ]
Were we in the Singularity?
no subject
[ He's trying, for whatever it's worth, to get back on track. There's no one who gets under his skin in quite the same way as Clive, but it's not really Clive that he's angry with. Every now and again the man says something off-hand that reminds Cid of how eager the world had been to discard him, and how much of that mark still remains on his soul. It's unremarkable, is the terrible truth of it. There are plenty of people like Clive who don't make it even this far.
Cid gets up to get more wine.
He lets Clive speak, working through the problem aloud (though his shoulders tense at the casual mention of Dion). Clive's gotten a little more canny in the intervening years, Cid has to admit. ]
Could be that we were inside of it. I can't say, if I'm honest. Don't know enough about the damned thing. [ He sighs, returning to the couch with the entire bottle of wine in-hand. He catches Clive's eye and wiggles the bottle, silently offering to pour him another cup. ] Feels as if we're connected to it somehow, to be sure.
[ It's hard to explain that particular tug, but he'd felt something like it when he was young... a call to leave the outer isles and find himself in the twins, where Ramuh had come to awaken in him. ] I suspect that you're on the right track. It was intended to be a temptation.
When I returned to the Horizon earlier, I found a message scrawled on my desk. We are you, and you are us. You are not theirs. The people of this world can't connect to the Singularity in the way that we do, so far as we know, which means that the author must be like us. A fellow Summoned, who's more powerful than we know, or something more like what we became... the gods of this world, perhaps.