danzan | inbox; deerington

Uh... yeah. I did. [ Though his memories of who'd been fighting in Ala Mhigo are pretty hazy at best. He'd been too busy focusing on the younger X'rhun in his arms, on dodging weapons and attacks instead of looking around. ]

I was wondering 'cause I ain't human. [ Another piece of fish down the chute. Logan washes it down with more milk. ] And I get what it's like to be seen as inferior people.

[X'rhun pauses in the middle of guiding a particularly large pepper into his mouth.] You're not?

[He puts the pepper down enough to lean over and sniff at Logan.]

You smell plenty Hyur to me.

[ The sniffing is fine. It does, in some weird way or other, comfort him a little to be scented. ] It's more a DNA thing. Genetic code.

People from my world don't all have claws, you know.

[ Finishing the last of his milk, he licks the excess off his lip. ] You got a word for "mutant"?

For us, "mutant" is another term for those who have been irrevocably changed from their original nature due to a significant occurrence, either instantaneous or slowly over time. [He tilts his head, and twitches one ear.] A sudden excess of aether introduced to the body is the catalyst for such changes.

But in your case... [DNA is a term he's not familiar with. Genetic code is... vaguely Allagan, but X'rhun can get the gist of it.] That's something entirely different, is it?

Your people developed differently from... the common man?

Something like that.

Humans're called homo sapiens where I come from. Mutants are homo sapiens superior.

"Excess of aether" ain't so far away, though. [ Never mind the fact he doesn't know what aether is; Logan's tone becomes softer, a little more patient. This reminds him a little of when he was still teaching at Xavier's. ] Mutants had something extra inside that humans didn't.

["Superior"-- what a conceited name, X'rhun thinks, but refrains from saying so by finally stuffing the pepper in his mouth and savouring how his sinuses clear with its heat.]

At this juncture, I fail to see what would make mutants different, being honest. In Eorzea, everyone would have aether within, and the differences tended to be the amount of such energies within, or how well one could control them. And even that could be changed with enough time or training. Or simply theft.

[Like... Lambard.]

But I assume, from context... Mutants have abilities and humans do not?

Edited 2018-11-03 10:58 (UTC)

Ah.

Yeah. [ His head cocks slightly. ] I guess when you put it like that, humans didn't have... energies [ that's the term he used, right? ] they had to control to begin with.

Made the humans hate us. [ He picks up another slice and chews it, talking with his mouth full. ] I was thirteen when people called me a demon and wanted me burned at the stake, and I was one hundred eighty-two when mankind decided to exterminate my people for good.

Ten years later and we pretty much were.

[X'rhun pretty much chokes on the last bit of pepper, coughing and feeling the heat rise up into his nose. And he reaches for his scotch, downing it like water.]

One hundred and-- You're entering your second century?

[ That gets a small smile. ] Turning one-hundred ninety two next year.

[X'rhun leans against the table with his elbows, massaging his temples.]

Bloody kill me.

[He was ogling an old man's rear. A ridiculously old man's rear.]

And here I thought you were younger than myself, the way you act sometimes. [But it does... make some sense now that he thinks about it. Five wars, nearly two hundred years.]

Like you're the pinnacle of maturity.

[ Logan slips another tuna slice in his mouth, rolling his eyes. ]

Oi, don't come into mine own house and be saying that sort of drivel. [Though his words have no real bite to them.]

Should I extol how good you look for your age instead?

[ Both his hands raise in defence. Logan shakes his head. ] No, no.

We're good. Thanks.

[Well now, that seems to be a weakness of Logan's-- being complimented. X'rhun will make sure to remember that for later.]

That's about as much as I expected. [With that he snatches up a piece of tuna to shovel into his mouth-- with a fork, mind. And it goes down easily, X'rhun not bothering to chew.]

So.

[In true X'rhun fashion however, he's going to ruin the moment. Because this has been weighing heavily on his mind for a while.]

I believe I owe you an explanation about our last encounter...?

You mean when I ran around in your head?

[X'rhun's sigh is strong enough that the strands of his mane hanging before his face are blown up and away from his eyes.]

In a manner of speaking. I don't remember every little detail, nor much of what I said or had done however.

'Twas like being part of a play, except not knowing your role in the grand scheme of things. But I do remember casting Flare. [And having his fill of Logan in the altogether. Clearly he remembers the important bits.]

I remember that too.

[ But Logan remembers everything in stark detail, so his situation's a lot different from X'rhun's already. He picks up another slice of fish, and finds himself slightly appalled that most of it's already gone. Did he really eat that much? ]

You want me to tell you what happened or something?

No. [He plucks at the bandage on his cheek, a newly-formed habit of his.]

Rather... the other mages in red-- you saw them in such stark detail, did you not? [That's from what X'rhun remembers after all. The figures at war, both Ala Mhigan and Garlean, their faces were blurred, but the other Duelists... They were clear.

Or perhaps that was X'rhun's memory filling in the gaps.]

[ He frowns. It's impossible to stop himself from doing it. ]

...yeah.

It's true-- Lambard did kill them. Though not in the way depicted-- an épée from a Fleche spell is not that large. They instead all died outside the city walls in our camp, in many different ways. Only I was spared, simply because I had been out on patrol at the time-- wartime and such.

[The plate of fish and peppers is empty now-- which is a good thing, because X'rhun's appetite has disappeared. Instead, he reaches for his glass and drains it. It's only when he pours more for himself that he speaks again.]

I was twenty years younger at the time, and he hadn't changed at all since then. [Does that explain why X'rhun looked the way he had? Perhaps. But as he mentioned, he doesn't even remember what he did or said except for the last few moments.]

[ Logan nods his head, understanding. Though he brings his glass up to take another drink of milk, he realises he hasn't got any left, and promptly puts it back down. ]

You were young in the dream, too. [ Then, like an afterthought-- ] Had a stronger accent. [ The smallest crinkles appear in the corners of his eyes at the memory of it, but what had happened over-all was still... terrible, in a lot of ways.

Logan decides not to mention how decrepit and broken X'rhun had looked physically. ]

I was? I did?

[His ears twitch. This is... this is news to him.]

It's true I did not bother much with my words during wartime but... What in the seven hells? [He thinks it should be telling that he was a young man in his own mind, even if he doesn't exactly how how old. Though how, why and everything else... Those escape him.

How do you even begin to parse that?]

It was just a dream, X'rhun.

Lambard was your friend when you were younger. [ At least, that's what he was told by the version of X'rhun he'd met in his head. Logan rubs at the side of his neck with a palm. ] ...and you survived his shit when everyone else didn't when you were younger, too.

It's rooted in the past. Makes sense to see a past you.

Could being absent at the moment of his betrayal truly be called surviving?

[Sometimes he still thinks he should have been there. Either to fend Lambard, because he really is the only person whom the Hyur could never defeat in a fair duel, or to die with the rest of them.

And X'rhun knocks back more of his scotch with the thought.]

... Could being dead be called surviving? [Because he really does think he is dead.]

As long as there's shit to go through, you're surviving. [ He's not going to think too hard about what Deerington is and where he is-- it's not something he'll get the answer to any time soon, so it's easier to keep it at the back of his mind. ]

Even if that shit's survivor's guilt.

inbox; deerington

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject