2020-11-12: Their Anger, Their Sadness, and Their Pride
- Log: Their Anger, Their Sadness, and Their Pride
- Cast: Gwen Whitlock, Citan Uzuki
- Where: The Calm Lands
- Date: November 12, 2020
- Summary: Gwen confirms a particular issue with Citan -- which is to say, her Setanta problem of late. Though that's hardly the end of it, for her. Some potential plans of action are proposed.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
The Calm Lands are aptly named, the wide plains making Gwen feel homesick for the plains of eastern Ignas, as well as Gulliver.
By the time she's reached the settlement where she's managed to find Citan, she misses Gulliver for a completely different reason: her legs.
Settling down on a bench that has likely been set up to accept many a weary traveler, she takes off her shoes and massages the soles of her feet, grimacing as she begins to work out every bit of soreness out of them with the ease of someone who's had to do it many, many times.
Citan should be here. And hopefully, he's open for 'business', as it were, as much as a surprisingly nomadic country doctor would be in this area.
But not immediately. Because her feet hurt, and it feels really, really good to sit on something that was meant to be sat on, rather than lay in the middle of the field like a sitting duck.
This business can wait for just a little longer.
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
There are no true 'settlements' as such in the Calm Lands. Perhaps in deference to what had happened here, once, few people live here.
Under normal circumstances, that is. With the situation in Spira as it is -- with Kilika and Luca under the Guard's control, with Bevelle firmly under Yevon's, with Home destroyed, and with Guadosalam under siege -- this is one of the few places open to a wandering people.
And for the Drifters that travel with the Al Bhed, one of the few options left to rest weary wings this side of Besaid. For now they have the skies as their road, but...
The encampment is but a temporary one, made of tents and whatever else the Al Bhed and the others were able to get their hands on. Still, this is a gentler land: they should come to no harm from it. It's the matter of the pursuit from others that brooks more threat.
"Gwen?"
No need to go hunting, it seems -- the doctor is in.
"I had not expected to see you here so soon." He glances down at her, her foot still in her hands. "...I hope that you did not walk all the way here?"
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Tents, cobbled together shelters, and little evidence of the grass being trampled enough to form bare paths- this is temporary, Gwen realizes.
Not an unpleasant place, definitely, but one formed from an immediate need.
Maybe, such camps will need a courier--
Hearing Citan's voice, Gwen looks up from her task, looking far better than when they last had met. Or maybe that's the side effect of the bright colors of the Spiran garb she wears, a far cry from the browns and monochromatic color scheme of her usual Filgaian garb. "Ah, Citan!" She beams. "I was hopin' I'd run into you. If you ain't busy, could I maybe borrow you real quick-like? Well, maybe not *quick*, but you get the idea."
'...I hope that you did not walk all the way here?'
"I was low on funds, so.... yeeeeesss?" She sounds the word out, as if testing its legitimacy as a possible, sane answer that normal people make. It does not fit, but the word has already left her mouth. ".... Look, it's kinda hard doin' business when you don't have a thing to do business with," she adds, with a sheepish smile. "But yeah, I came seeking you, for once! For one, to.... thank you, really. For healing me."
Her mouth opens to add in the true reason for seeking him out, but she hangs there, closing it with another second of thought. "... You had some questions back then. And now, I have answers, for once." A pause. "I think."
She frowns. "... it'd be best we don't let anyone in the camp overhear any of this."
Of course it's not good news.
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
He, too, has cast aside his normal attire for something more fitting the climate and circumstances of Spira -- though it is rather cooler here than to the south (even if it is far from being frigid, precisely).
She admits to her 'crime' and he smiles in a good-natured if put-upon way. "Well now, take care to not give yourself blisters, Gwen, or the money you save will be money spent patching your poor feet!" He shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders as if to ask the world what he is supposed to do with the likes of her.
But this, too, fades, as she asks him for a favor, as she says she came here seeking him.
He rubs his chin as she, greeting him, asks him for that not-so-quick favor, as it were.
"...This is quite fortuitous, Gwen," he says, after considering her a moment. "Indeed, I was thinking that if we should cross paths again... that there was something I should ask of you," he says, and seems for the moment as if he were about to say more, except--
"Indeed," Citan says, glancing about himself. "I am afraid this place is not, ah, the best place for a private conversation. Let us use one of the empty tents!"
Being a transitory dwelling-place, is it a surprise that the residents are also transitory?
He has long-since passed the point of expecting 'good news'. Whether it is from her, or, indeed, just about anyone else. Then again, most people don't exactly see a doctor for advice when everything is on the up and up, so perhaps it comes with the territory.
Once she's stood, he'll point out one of the unused tents. They're mostly used for sleeping and dressing so they're not large, but...
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Citan's reaction is expected, Gwen deriving a small bit of comfort at the doctor's weary but gracious nature. "Of course, of course! It was a pleasant journey, so I have no complai-gkk!" She flinches, then straightens that leg out, pulling her foot towards her. ".... Sorry, charley horse."
With that matter settled, Gwen puts on her shoes (which are of good quality, at least, hence her lack of funds, not that Gwen's about to volunteer that information), and stands.
Fortuitous. Citan would say that as well, making it unclear to Gwen as to his true feelings, but not in a way that made her distrust him. Some secrets were good, like the ability of a person to heal. Though is that entirely out of bounds?
Maybe Gwen just doesn't know enough of how magic worked, and the ways it could. Or is that simply because she's invested too much in trusting him up to this point to question anything so helpful?
"I have a feeling it may be related to what I was gonna ask you anyway, but either way, I don't mind answerin' as best as I can anythin' you got." Gwen says this, as she moves the cloth doorway of the empty tent to the side with one hand.
Sitting on a surface (or the ground, as it were), Gwen nods to the doctor. "First things first- I think I've rested enough that my temperature wouldn't just be up 'cause I was out n' about, but." She feels her forehead, and frowns. "I 'spose me checking won't be a result you can compare your result too, but. If you don't mind, try to assess my temperature, right now. And if you got a question, let's get on that too, if you like."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
He grimaces at her sudden complication, as if in sympathy, only to then shake his head once more.
Perhaps it's a good thing for Gwen that Citan appears to largely work pro bono these days. Then again, it would be hard to set up a roaming doctor's office with anything short of Caravan Kinship's vehicles.
"Perhaps so..." he muses, without directly answering her statement one way or another.
Once inside the relative privacy of the tent -- lit by a single glowing sphere -- Citan turns to regard her for a moment. "Gwen, would you mind if I--"
She, settling down on the floor, asks him to check her temperature.
"...Ah. Yes, as it happens..." he starts to say, crouching down on one knee alongside her, "...that is what I had wanted to confirm, myself. Now, a brisk walk, or a long hike, these can cause a slight increase in external temperature," he says, reaching out the back of his hand for her foreheard, "but nothing..."
He is silent for a moment, before pulling his hand away.
"...nothing akin to a fever," Citan finishes, before settling down in a crosslegged position catty-corner to her. "Yes... I see. So you have noticed, yourself?"
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Gwen has offered to pay for Citan's services in the past, in the times after the tragedy at Lahan Village. The problem is that a normal country doctor just can't have as much need for Gwen's offers of 'delivery' to really be useful, at the rate she's had to use his knowledge.
And that's if Citan had decided to humor Gwen at all for her offers.
When they settle in the tent, Gwen cuts to the chase, though she is surprised by Citan's question matching her own.
But not completely. This is Citan. There was a reason she trusted him enough to ask such questions.
She's silent as he confirms, closing her eyes as she feels the difference in temperature between his hand and her forehead.
But hardly a difference one would be concerned about, from her perspective. Easily ignored.
To Citan's, it was a low-grade fever, much like before.
"... Actually, I haven't." She shakes her head. "I'm sure if I really tried t'find a way to confirm my temperature, I'd see it, so I don't doubt you at all. The opposite, really. It's a symptom of what's been goin' on, far beyond a simple bit of stealin' from a Primarch. Though, maybe, this is normal too? I mean, people can be unaware of fevers. It wasn't like I was in any cold climates lately, either."
But that's getting away from the point. She clears her throat. "I had... a chat, with the Primarch. In my dreams, I mean."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
Once, before the disaster, she had sometimes brought in some of the items he needed for his practice. Lahan was out-of-the-way from nearly everywhere, and his business meant that he couldn't simply leave it. And afterwards--- well. She'd offered; he'd declined. Perhaps if they were in dire need he might have taken her up on it, but there hadn't been cause.
It had been an uneven relationship, as so many of the doctor's tended to be.
It still is an uneven relationship.
Under any other situation, he would have assumed a mild fever, and then confirmed it with the use of a thermometer. But if her skin feels like this, then internally she may be...
"...I see. Then, what alerted you to it? Has someone else..."
He trails off as she mentions a Primarch. The Primarch. Setanta, he remembers now.
"The Primarch... then..." He pauses, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "Then, you believe this to be connected?"
It must be connected. It would explain her odd symptoms from 'then'.
Perhaps, also, the trance into which she had briefly fallen.
"You had mentioned that you had 'drained some of their energy' when you last spoke of them," he continues, realization beginning to crystalize. "This Setanta, were they...?"
He begins to ask his question even as Gwen says that she'd spoken to them recently. In her dreams.
"And, you are certain of this?" he asks, after a moment's consideration of her. "...Please, continue."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Is she for certain?
It's a fair question. Any of this could be explained by other means- dreams could just be dreams. And just because one may be real, what could be said of the others?
Gwen shakes her head, her accent growing more subdued. "I can't say for certain, no. Been a lot of dreams like that. But this was different. The ones relating to them, they're different. They're different than.."
She trails off, her expression vague.
"These ones were full of fire, and heat. Pain. But I get those, from time to time, so it was easy to think they were more of the same. Here, Setanta spoke. I heard them. It's hard to explain, but I knew it was them, even if I only heard them speak when they were released. I could still be wrong, but..." She wets her lips. "Yeah, it's all connected. I only grabbed a tiny fraction of the energy they had. I was going to resolve this, but..." She motions to the world outside, unseen. "Stuff happened?"
She pauses. ".... But I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad I was able to talk to them. They seemed to be bewildered, maybe amused, about all of this. Setanta is... uh, well, I mean, their feelings, they...." She sorts through the possible words she could use, some way to give equal weight to the danger Setanta was as well as the weight of those feelings.
"Their anger, their sadness, their pride... if you told me Primarchs were Elws or humans or whatever at one point, instead of being creations, I would've believed you. They were familiar. Hardly like the sorts of impressions I've gotten of Primarchs like Rahab."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
She can't be certain, she says. Citan regards her for a long moment in silence, and then only at length does he nod. "I see..." Does he believe her? It's hard to say for sure: his expression is as neutrally sober as it's been since she explained what she believed the situation to be and... well...
The doctor has always been hard to read.
"So you had a dream in which they spoke to you. What do you believe they intend?" She says that the Primarch seemed a little bewildered, that they seemed amused at what was happening. That they seemed almost human.
Such a destructive force then, for something that seems almost human. But, no. That would be the most human-like thing of all, wouldn't it?
He knows himself the sort of destruction even a single person can wreak.
"I wonder if they were like that from the start," Citan muses, bowing his head as if in thought, "or if it was something they became."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"They wanted to gloat- no, that's not it. It was..." The hesitation seems genuine, bore less out of a need to censor and more a search for the right word. "... They were curious. And so was I. They weren't even angry that I stole from them."
'You cannot comprehend the pain. The isolation.' Setanta's eyes, somehow as expressive as Gwen's own, despite being manifested from fire.
"I think, in the end, they were lonely. Proud, dangerously so, but lonely. I think meeting them in person would've been a lot worse for me than a dream. And even then, if it weren't for something else..."
She tilts her chin up towards the ceiling of the tent, a subtle buzz of fugue in the corners of her eyes. ".... I suppose, then, it was good that he did what he did, as well. Otherwise, I would've... damn, I'm going all over the place."
Them. Him. The pronouns are different, referring to different things.
Citan's questions cause Gwen to smile, slightly, her gaze falling down to rest on his face. "They were created by the Elw to combat the Hyadeans, during the Metal Demons War. Except, they were too powerful, and they were sealed away. They're still real pissed over that." A pause. "It's also why I can't say Setanta's entirely this innocent blameless entity that wouldn't hurt a fly. They would, but not because they're evil. It's why I compared Setanta to Id, in that way. Well, real bad, but you looked like you got the reference back then?" She lets out a soft laugh. "They're different, yeah, but in other ways, it's the same. The emotions, coupled with immense power."
She falls silent, considering the tent flap as if someone was about to burst through at any moment.
"The reason I didn't know about Setanta's effect on me, the reason I wasn't afraid- it's tied to someone else. Setanta and I realized this, when we talked. Though, really, it wasn't that impossible to guess, either, since it was something I wondered about."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"They wanted to gloat- no, that's not it. It was..." The hesitation seems genuine, bore less out of a need to censor and more a search for the right word. "... They were curious. And so was I. They weren't even angry that I stole from them."
'You cannot comprehend the pain. The isolation.' Setanta's eyes, somehow as expressive as Gwen's own, despite being manifested from fire.
"I think, in the end, they were lonely. Proud, dangerously so, but lonely. I think meeting them in person would've been a lot worse for me than a dream. And even then, if it weren't for something else..."
She tilts her chin up towards the ceiling of the tent, a subtle buzz of fugue in the corners of her eyes. ".... I suppose, then, it was good that he did what he did, as well. Otherwise, I would've... damn, I'm going all over the place."
Them. Him. The pronouns are different, referring to different things.
Citan's questions cause Gwen to smile, slightly, her gaze falling down to rest on his face. "They were created by the Elw to combat the Hyadeans, during the Metal Demons War. Except, they were too powerful, and they were sealed away. They're still real pissed over that." A pause. "It's also why I can't say Setanta's entirely this innocent blameless entity that wouldn't hurt a fly. They would, but not because they're evil. It's why I compared Setanta to Id, in that way. Well, real bad, but you looked like you got the reference back then?" She lets out a soft laugh. "They're different, yeah, but in other ways, it's the same. The emotions, coupled with immense power."
She falls silent, considering the tent flap as if someone was about to burst through at any moment.
"The reason I didn't know about Setanta's effect on me, the reason I wasn't afraid- it's tied to someone else. Setanta and I realized this, when we talked. Though, really, it wasn't that impossible to guess, either, since it was something I wondered about."
Blue-grey eyes pivot back to Citan, as a question about another set of secrets comes to the forefront.
"It wouldn't be fair for me to give this away without you offering one of your own, eh?" She grins, the slightly mischievous energy in it reaching her eyes. ".... How long have you been able to heal like that?"
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
He's silent as she muses further on Setanta -- on their feelings, intent. Of their almost-certain application of harm were she to meet them in the flesh, as it were. Indeed, it's one thing and one thing only that provokes a remark from Citan:
"'He'? Of whom do you speak, Gwen?" She's referring to someone else now, but--
The flow of conversation shifts away from 'him' and back to the Primarchs.
"I see... so they are a sort of 'artificial Guardian', one might say. Except... hmm..." Too powerful? Exceded their purpose, perhaps. Or...
They're destructive but not evil, Gwen says. Like Id.
Something to the doctor's gaze shifts, his expression growing that minutely more stony. "..."
Not evil. Just destructive. But one doesn't need to have a wicked heart to draw down a terrible fate unto the world.
One, Citan has increasingly become convinced of, need only be broken.
And should that be the case...
Leaving such musings where they belong, he refocuses on Gwen. "That is the second time that you have referred to 'another'. Would you tell me more about 'him', Gwen?"
But perhaps he won't get much further without leaving a tithe for the ferryman (or woman) in turn.
"Ah... I had wondered whether you might ask about that," Citan remarks, smiling ruefully. "Typically, I strive to be more, ah... subtle, I suppose. But while it was no mortal wound, time was of the essence and... at times, we overreact, I suppose." He shakes his head. "To answer your question, it is a skill I have had for most of my life, though honed by my time in Jugend."
He pauses for a moment, studying her as if to measure her reaction. "...You did guess what it was, correct? Therefore..." He nods, as if to further confirm the fact. "I am by birth of the Empire of Solaris, though I have not set foot within it in a very long time. ...I have spoken of this to Fei, Elly, and a few of the others, and now also you."
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Citan is from Solaris.
It makes so much sense that it hurts, and yet, Gwen still has to hesitate over it, poking over this nugget of information.
Gwen stares at Citan, startled at this information. "But you... your family, like, Yui, n' Midori? But you..."
Does it really change anything? He somehow came from Solaris, he somehow was on the surface, and he started a family. A man from the sky, making a life on the earth. Poetic.
She falls silent.
"So you escaped from there." It's incorrect, but her conclusion seems to lead into lead into her next thought. "The man I'm talking about, is from Solaris too. Fell from it, even, though I'm no longer sure if that was literal or not. A few agents even tried to recapture him. Many died. He... he can do things, like you. It's just that his gift is illusions. .... Except they're not." The fingers of her left hand touch the area over her heart. "They're definitely not."
Each time she thinks back, over the myriad of things Isiris has done, both to her and to others, it feels like a discordant bell against her mind.
"He changed after I survived him. And over the course of the last year or two, I realized in some way, he was tuning me. To hear his message."
It was closer to the truth, rather than saying 'he was controlling her', or 'he forced her'.
In contrast to the low fever Citan felt against his fingers, Gwen's eyes gaze towards the door again, towards some far off distance.
"I can tune it out. But parts of me don't want to. My fear isn't there anymore- I realize now, that was his doing. Because I accepted him."
A pause.
"But at the same time, I know the logic of why I did, and what he plans, to not make any sense when I think about it. Both of these things are true."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
'But you... your family,' Gwen wonders aloud.
"Are not from Solaris," is Citan's response.
Gwen proposes that he had escaped from there, then speaks of the man of which she'd spoken. Citan nods, as if at once agree to the latter and encourage her to continue to tell her about 'him'.
He's silent, regarding her for a long moment, and in particular the motion she makes to her chest.
"...He is the one who attempted to kill you," he says then, looking directly into her eyes. Something by his eyes tightens; he if briefly gives the impression of someone considering far-off long-ago matters before returning to the here and now. "...I see... to think that he would also be..."
He shakes his head, focusing on her again. "But... he did not stop there, I see. He is still contacting you in some fashion? Not by words, but by..."
He trails off, as if to give her the span to provide the answer himself.
Her fear isn't there anymore. He took it away from her.
If the doctor's expression is anything, it is carefully and deliberately blank. "...Took away your fear... that is..." He may as well be a statue here: he barely seems to even breathe. "...Fear is an essential part of us as people," he says at last, bowing his head. "It is a sad thing for someone to be controlled by their fear, but to lose that sense of it entirely..." He shakes his head. "I am sorry, Gwen."
There are things he can fix.
There are many more things he cannot.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
Gwen remains stunned, her blink in that silence nearly audible as she processes Citan's beginnings, as free of details as they are. "... That's... really..." She can't help it. She smiles, her words hushed to keep her excitement from raising her voice unnecessarily. "That's so romantic! It's like with Elly and Fei, but the other way 'round! And you had a kid together..."
Gwen does know know Yui's origin. She wouldn't think of it. She doesn't really even need to know it. She presses her hands over her lips, her eyes twinkling. "It's like a one gella novel!"
Things snap back to serious matters, and with it, Gwen's glee, but not unwillingly. She is here for a reason; while Citan can't provide care, he can confirm. "Yeah. Using magic. It might as well have been steel, for how well it worked. As you probably know, that's when my ARM saved me, using the medium I had. I was touching it at the time, thinking I was going to heal somehow, but..." She sparks a smile at that, and shakes her head. "I'm gettin' off topic."
How does he do it? Gwen allows that silence to settle, before sealing what Citan may or may not already know. "Dreams. He is always there for me. For better or worse. But he can influence me outside of them. I have proof of this, now- as well as the fact that I ain't the only one. There is a young woman I know, named Lan Lilac. She n' I tried to kill one another, in the desert. I had a calling t'go there. And before that, there was a calling to go to the tavern. That's why I became wanted for questioning, way back. The people who disappeared there in that tavern were his doing, not mine. Leon Albus can confirm this- he and I nearly came to blows."
Seeing the stunned silence from Citan, Gwen looks over at him, giving him that silence to...
... Apologize?
She reaches out hesitantly and places a hand on his shoulder. "Y'got nothing to apologize for. It's not all doom n' gloom. My guess is that he didn't just take it away from me. It's just sealed away."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
If there was any reaction Citan expected it--
Probably wasn't that one.
"Er," the doctor manages after a moment, gaze still on her. He looks if anything like he's found that odd intersection between bemused and uncomfortable, and rubs at the side of his neck with his left hand. "Is that... so..."
He bears the discomfort in otherwise stoic silence. Unfortunately, Gwen doesn't quite let up anytime soon and so, Citan is forced to clear his throat and say, "Please, Gwen, I would prefer that you did not, ah, how should I put this... speak of such personal matters?"
He's always been more private when it comes to matters of the heart.
(It really wouldn't help matters any if Gwen did know where Yui was from, would it.)
Fortunately, the topic at hand moves away from his marriage, and towards a different sort of 'matter of the heart'. "Yes. I recall what you told me about that incident. By absorbing the Medium, your ARM was able to gain the power to take the place of your heart. A strange thing, but not unheard of -- as I think I may have mentioned at the time, older ARMs are known for, shall we say, 'idiosyncratic behavior'. Even with the modifications your aunt made to it, it is still quite an old ARM -- a true 'ancient relic machine'!"
But this is only distraction from the topic at hand. The matter involves more directly--
"Dreams... I had thought that might have been the avenue."
Why he thought this, he does not say.
"Lan Lilac?" It's not a name unknown to him, it would seem. "I see... so she is also afflicted. Hmm..." Folding his arms over his chest, he glances downwards and nods the once. "...Yes, I recall hearing about this as well. So 'he' is able to compel one afflicted at a distance. A sort of 'sleeper agent' in that sense..."
He straightens before long, regarding her once more. Ever so slightly, he smiles, though not a bit of it meets his eyes. "Hmm... that is a response like you, Gwen. Nevertheless, whether it is gone or 'sealed away', there is nothing that I can do to return it to you."
Not as he is, at least. And not here.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"O-oh, right, right. None of this will leave this tent, guaranteed," Gwen assures, waving a hand.
She can't help herself.
Especially with how embarrassed the doctor looks.
"At least, the ones where he's not stabbed me, or when I'm not dealing with someone else."
Or....
"...." Her eyebrows bunch as she looks down, touching her knuckles to her lips. "..... Have I ever actually... interacted with him? Could all of this have been illusions? Just because I touch something, it doesn't mean it could be real. Like when my ARM was first attached, and my body was getting used to it. I would get pains, or sensations, even if my arm wasn't touching anything at all. To feel something physically is no guarantee that it's real, in the sense that..."
She trails off, uncertain of her theory.
Does it matter? Citan's term is more concerning. "I never thought of it that way. Yeah, we're... 'sleeper agents', I guess." She gives a laugh and shrugs. "Not exactly a great deal, but hey, we'll figure something out."
'There is nothing I can do to return it to you."
Gwen tilts her head at Citan, briefly confused.
Then, she laughs, her soft amusement like a balm to her senses. "Sorry, doc. I know you're capable of a lotta things and then some, but this, uhhh." She scratches the side of her cheek. "I mostly needed confirmation. Temperature, n' the like." She shakes her head. "Besides, it's not a death sentence. And you know by now my tendency to take a bad thing and make the most of it. I managed to make contact with a Primarch, and because of who I was, my history, and everything, I was able to communicate with them. Setanta was the reason I was even able to think through all these things, because they were able to see the assassin's influence in me. I wouldn't count on them t'make an active role, or to not be someone we'd have to make stands against later on, but honestly? They're kinda nice to chat with."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
"...My thanks, Gwen," the doctor responds. Perhaps he's able to relax again, if only a little bit...
He's more in his element again when Gwen talks about the mysterious man.
"'Phantom pain', in a sense. Yes, as you say, qualia are no confirmation of reality, themselves." He pauses after a moment, then, as if he has become accustomed to explaining things, "'Qualia' is a word used in philosophy to describe an individual instance of a particular sensation. For instance, the feeling of picking up your hat with your hand, right now: the way the cloth feels, the tension and weight of the item, and so on." He smiles almost apologetically. "It is at times beneficial to be so precise when attempting to discuss experiences! Very little can be said to be uniformly identical. Is the red I see the same red you see? ...Ah, and here is another question best left to the philosophers. Now, please, go on. Do not let me sidetrack you!"
Is the man's presence really 'real' if it happens in a dream? And does it matter?
The result is the same. Only the precise means varies.
In just the same way everyone experiences the world, actually...
"It is a term that fits all too well in these circumstances, I am afraid," Citan says, shaking his head. "I wonder if it might make a difference -- that fact that you now know, that is. Will you be able to resist? Or..."
He trails off, regarding her still.
Which is to say nothing of the other resident -- the energy traces (or are they?) of the Primarch Setanta.
"I see... so you were prepared for such a verdict." Exhaling a breath, he unfolds his arms at last. "I must admit, I am somewhat curious. ...About which might persevere, that is. 'His' presence, or Setanta's? Or, might they cancel one another out?"
Or, and he scarce wants to voice this possibility, that they might somehow merge their influence on her.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"Yeah, that's the term. Phantom pain. Only, I guess, mine was the opposite way." Gwen considers, with a soft hum. "Probably dealt with it as a kid too; it just was more pain on top of the rest of whatever was happening. By the time I got the Mockingbird, though, it was liking getting used to having an extra arm, instead of regaining one." It was a blessing, that it happened when she was so young.
Of course, when Citan goes into detail as to what a qualia is, Gwen can't help but consider the touch of her wrists against the fabric of her leggings, the way her
And the way she still can't consider, as she casually feels the side of her neck, the sensation of her bodily temperature being hot.
When Citan apologizes, Gwen smiles. "It's okay! Reemember, my auntie's a scholar too, so I'm used to it, hehe."
Will it make a difference, Citan wonders, aloud.
"No," is Gwen's answer. "It won't. Because I'll likely be unable to know who is me. Or if I am really me. Which force am I resisting, and which is my own. Or if..."
It's like describing the feeling of being drunk to someone who's never been, regardless of whether Citan seems like he's following along.
Gwen looks at Citan as he now considers her.
Her smile is hesitant, unsure of what answer she could say. "I don't think Setanta's would be as much a will as being close to fire. You feel the heat no matter if it's a candle or a bonfire. It's like... being drunk, I guess. The best and worst sort of drunk."
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
"Yes... I have read as much," the doctor replies, on the subject of phantom pain itself. No doubt, the adjustment period was difficult -- a fortunate thing indeed that she was able to acclimate to it while young. While the brain is malleable in that respect...
Some things are better to not remember in detail.
She forgives him his meandering, and he simply shakes his head. "Yes, of course. I suppose it is in our nature."
Many things simply come too naturally to easily shake.
And much like it's in her nature, she of course answers his question bluntly.
"..."
After a moment, he sighs. "Yes... that is almost certainly the outcome. Without question..." Against those forces, even knowledge won't give her the purchase she needs. Something else needs to tip the scales, between Setanta and 'him', and he doesn't know what shape that 'something' would take.
Or rather, he has at least one idea of what might be done, but it isn't an option that's open to him.
Not now.
He smiles, in spite of her predicament. "Yes... I believe I understand what you mean. 'Overindulgence', except not in spirits." He pauses, considering what he has just said. "...Or, apparently 'with spirits'? ...My apologies," he says, his expression rueful. Citan shakes his head. "It is not the time for such jokes."
He rises to his feet after a moment, gazing at the hang of the tent about them.
"I do not know if it might help, but you may consider asking after the Baskar. A more 'spiritual touch' may be more appropriate for this, ah, sort of incursion," he says, not looking at her.
<Pose Tracker> Gwen Whitlock has posed.
"It's okay." Gwen tilts her head in the dim space, flashing a smile. "It reminds me of Auntie." A pause. "This is a compliment, I mean."
Overindulgence is definitely the best word for it, for the moment. The courier's mouth cracks in a guilty smile at Citan's pun, muttering a soft praise of 'good one'. "Life ain't worth a damn if you can't laugh a little at it, doc." She raises a finger. "'Laughter is the best medicine', I believe the sayin' goes? Besides, yeah. I'm certain some of it is also due to how fast everything comes at me when I'm in that state t'begin with. Like the world has invited me to peek underneath its seams, and see where the threads connect, but there's too many threads to even look at, so you just have to focus on the sliver of reality in front of you."
And to feel drunk, on top of that--
"Yeah, Ida- well, a friend of mine was suggesting the same thing. Getting ported to Spira put a crimp on things."
Thoughtful silence follows her remark, a sadness crossing her face as she looks down. "It's weird, but.... I'd hate for that connection to be cut, just as I was getting to develop an understanding with them. Strip away the power, the grandiose talking, and the wear of age, and it was like chatting with someone younger than me. They love Filgaia, but I know their mind isn't going to consider the same things we would in saving it. They still had Hyadeans with a passion, for example, even when they were told Mother was gone. But they were... lonely. Sympathetic." Her left hand touches the border of scar tissue, where Setanta's hand touched.
Like they were trying to understand.
"... But, I guess... I did tell them that this wouldn't be for very long." She lets out a small laugh. "But think about it. What would it be like, if even one of the Primarchs saw us as genuine allies? If there was a way to provide some space for them, where they could live life among all of Filgaia. The Elw sealed them away for good reason, yeah, but if they could find a new way of existing, then maybe..."
She closes her eyes. "If their hearts can open to us, maybe it's not impossible to make a few new buddies. A few really, really dangerous buddies that we might have to tell to cut it out, but all the same, buddies."
Her expression twinkles with good humor, a part of her usual self now shining with the thought of hope.
<Pose Tracker> Citan Uzuki has posed.
Rubbing at the back of his neck, Citan can only chuckle. "Ah, so I see."
Which is perhaps soon followed by an overexpressive shrug of surrender, arms outstretched to each side, when Gwen corrects his apologies. There's no need for them when a little levity is warranted, it seems--
"You are correct, but there is a time and a place for such things. Nevertheless... on this, I yield!" He smiles, self-effacingly, and this time it's a smile that's echoed in his eyes.
So it sends her into a more reactive state, keeping her on the defensive within in a sense, and never permitting her that pre-emptive strike she needs to regain control...
It's something to consider, even if he does not quite have a functional angle to address it from. Or...
The doctor blinks -- a thought, or more a realization, occurs to him here. He turns his gaze upon her, still mulling it over.
Jugend training in Ether is half the proper mindset for it. Perhaps Ether itself may be out of her grasp (is hopefully out of her grasp), but it is still a set of exercises that... may hone her mental state.
"Gwen, how familiar are you with Elly?"
But what he's thinking about might give her a fighting chance for only one of her problems--
If indeed he's right about how to start to handle 'him' in the first place. As for Setanta...
"As allies, hmm? I wonder why it was that they had been sealed away in the first place..." Still, he shakes his head. "I suppose we have had 'stranger bedfellows' than a set of artificial Guardians! Well then, perhaps we shall see what comes of this, although..."
He exhales a sigh. "It would be a better thing for you to not play host to so many... others, Gwen."
He may have more than his hands full on that front already.