grains_of_saturn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
grains_of_saturn) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2023-11-29 04:47 pm
grains_of_saturn) wrote in fandomweekly2023-11-29 04:47 pm
Entry tags:
[#167] Tacet (Xenoblade Chronicles 3)
Theme Prompt: #167 - Things in common
Title: tacet
Fandom: Xenoblade Chronicles 3
Rating/Warnings: PG13, massive spoilers for the latter half of Xenoblade Chronicles 3
Bonus: no
Word Count: 986
Summary: To Consul C, Consul N is so familiar and yet nothing like him.
The air inside the auditorium was heavy and still in a way that Crys wasn't sure he'd ever get used to. And yet, haven't things always been this way? On the outside, those still in the cycle lived through their cycles - and Crys watched them, as they all did, but watching that one soul in particular--
It couldn't have been all that long since he'd appeared in that place, but then suddenly to know - the knowledge of all those lives lived (cut short), all those cycles (again and again) and at the end of every single one, like punctuation, the memory of a death. Memories of deaths, plural. Over, and over. Over and over and over and over. Knowledge of the world. Knowledge of life. Knowledge of death.
Sat on the stage, back-to-back with a figure that would barely ever acknowledge his presence. Knowledge of you, Consul N.
When Crys spoke, his voice echoed in the space. Sometimes, it seemed like there were others watching. Other times, like nobody else there at all - almost as if they were the only two people left in that world.
"... and you seemed so similar to him, at first. You can see how I would think that, wouldn't you? An easy thing to think, at first. At first. ...Because you're not, are you? Similar to him."
He sat leant back, to feel the light pressure against him to remind him that N still sat there. Their armour lay thick on their bodies, separating them, and N sat so motionless he might not even have been breathing. Do you still need to breathe? Here, is that necessary? We gave up 'being human' a long time ago.
Picking himself up off the floor, Crys paced a couple of steps around, a small sense of irritation growing stronger as he did so, and as he looked back towards N - still there as he ever was, letting those questions hang in the air.
Abruptly, Crys brought up one foot against N's shoulder, pressing him down further into his hunched position. "Are you even listening to me? I asked you a question." He gave a further shove with his foot, as if that action might provoke N into motion. The fact that it didn't was fascinating in itself; like pinning a moth to a board, trapped under glass, frozen in space and in time.
Crys kept his foot there for a lingering moment longer, as if to make sure. That continued pressure still caused no reaction in particular and so, then, he relented.
It had been strange to see him, at first. Of course, everything about this was strange, but him in particular. A being that was no longer Noah, a soul diverged from the Noah that Crys had known long before they'd ever met. And to you I'm a stranger, aren't I? A complete stranger. It had hurt, at first, in some certain ways - Crys could barely contemplate the paths the figure sat in front of him must have taken in order to end up here, like this, but the more he thought about it, the more his curiosity grew. Of course, N wasn't telling him anything. N would barely give him the slightest word, no matter how many questions he asked.
"I asked you a question, N." (He let that last syllable drip with flat and open contempt.)
He noted the way that N tensed before turning his head to face him, the sharpness of that glare almost a relief to receive; as always, N would look to him with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion, but it was, at the very least, something.
"You never stop asking questions. If I thought that giving you a single word might still your tongue then perhaps I might answer, but we both know that unlikely, don't we?"
"And for me, a question in turn. How magnanimous."
"Don't fool yourself."
N turned away, at that point. Emboldened, nonetheless, by a response, Crys knelt behind him and placed his hands on N's shoulders. "I only mean to--"
"Don't touch me--!" He moved quickly then, as if a tender touch could cause an electric shock. Crys remained unfazed, standing up once more.
"I simply wish to draw the connection between the Noah that I knew, and that which is in front of me. You can understand why I would want to, wouldn't you? Because from my perspective, that distance seems so great, and that connection so weak..." He took several steps to approach N once more, crouching to be able to match his line of sight. "He is a song, and you are silence. What else can I take from our interactions? ...But I should like to understand, if only you would--" (Crys found himself cut off by N abruptly standing up and turning away, as if to signal an end to the matter.)
"There is nothing for you to understand, and no reason for me to tell you. Flatter yourself that you might find some answer if you must, but seek it elsewhere."
With that, he vanished into the darkness, leaving the auditorium. Another voice, familiar, sat in the theatre seating but as close to Crys's ear as if he were leant close, whispering in.
"It seems unlikely that he might ever be receptive to your interrogation. And yet you persist?"
Somewhere outside, beyond Origin, beyond the cycle, beyond everything, Noah continued his journey, each step taking him closer to his destination, each step bringing him to the point that Crys was waiting for - we shall meet again, Noah. Until then--
"I have time enough for that, and for him."
"It would appear that he has no time for you."
…But what time do we have, in a world that is falling apart? (Crys held that thought close, knowing that neither N nor Z would appreciate hearing the question voiced. As such, his thoughts continued.)
Title: tacet
Fandom: Xenoblade Chronicles 3
Rating/Warnings: PG13, massive spoilers for the latter half of Xenoblade Chronicles 3
Bonus: no
Word Count: 986
Summary: To Consul C, Consul N is so familiar and yet nothing like him.
The air inside the auditorium was heavy and still in a way that Crys wasn't sure he'd ever get used to. And yet, haven't things always been this way? On the outside, those still in the cycle lived through their cycles - and Crys watched them, as they all did, but watching that one soul in particular--
It couldn't have been all that long since he'd appeared in that place, but then suddenly to know - the knowledge of all those lives lived (cut short), all those cycles (again and again) and at the end of every single one, like punctuation, the memory of a death. Memories of deaths, plural. Over, and over. Over and over and over and over. Knowledge of the world. Knowledge of life. Knowledge of death.
Sat on the stage, back-to-back with a figure that would barely ever acknowledge his presence. Knowledge of you, Consul N.
When Crys spoke, his voice echoed in the space. Sometimes, it seemed like there were others watching. Other times, like nobody else there at all - almost as if they were the only two people left in that world.
"... and you seemed so similar to him, at first. You can see how I would think that, wouldn't you? An easy thing to think, at first. At first. ...Because you're not, are you? Similar to him."
He sat leant back, to feel the light pressure against him to remind him that N still sat there. Their armour lay thick on their bodies, separating them, and N sat so motionless he might not even have been breathing. Do you still need to breathe? Here, is that necessary? We gave up 'being human' a long time ago.
Picking himself up off the floor, Crys paced a couple of steps around, a small sense of irritation growing stronger as he did so, and as he looked back towards N - still there as he ever was, letting those questions hang in the air.
Abruptly, Crys brought up one foot against N's shoulder, pressing him down further into his hunched position. "Are you even listening to me? I asked you a question." He gave a further shove with his foot, as if that action might provoke N into motion. The fact that it didn't was fascinating in itself; like pinning a moth to a board, trapped under glass, frozen in space and in time.
Crys kept his foot there for a lingering moment longer, as if to make sure. That continued pressure still caused no reaction in particular and so, then, he relented.
It had been strange to see him, at first. Of course, everything about this was strange, but him in particular. A being that was no longer Noah, a soul diverged from the Noah that Crys had known long before they'd ever met. And to you I'm a stranger, aren't I? A complete stranger. It had hurt, at first, in some certain ways - Crys could barely contemplate the paths the figure sat in front of him must have taken in order to end up here, like this, but the more he thought about it, the more his curiosity grew. Of course, N wasn't telling him anything. N would barely give him the slightest word, no matter how many questions he asked.
"I asked you a question, N." (He let that last syllable drip with flat and open contempt.)
He noted the way that N tensed before turning his head to face him, the sharpness of that glare almost a relief to receive; as always, N would look to him with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion, but it was, at the very least, something.
"You never stop asking questions. If I thought that giving you a single word might still your tongue then perhaps I might answer, but we both know that unlikely, don't we?"
"And for me, a question in turn. How magnanimous."
"Don't fool yourself."
N turned away, at that point. Emboldened, nonetheless, by a response, Crys knelt behind him and placed his hands on N's shoulders. "I only mean to--"
"Don't touch me--!" He moved quickly then, as if a tender touch could cause an electric shock. Crys remained unfazed, standing up once more.
"I simply wish to draw the connection between the Noah that I knew, and that which is in front of me. You can understand why I would want to, wouldn't you? Because from my perspective, that distance seems so great, and that connection so weak..." He took several steps to approach N once more, crouching to be able to match his line of sight. "He is a song, and you are silence. What else can I take from our interactions? ...But I should like to understand, if only you would--" (Crys found himself cut off by N abruptly standing up and turning away, as if to signal an end to the matter.)
"There is nothing for you to understand, and no reason for me to tell you. Flatter yourself that you might find some answer if you must, but seek it elsewhere."
With that, he vanished into the darkness, leaving the auditorium. Another voice, familiar, sat in the theatre seating but as close to Crys's ear as if he were leant close, whispering in.
"It seems unlikely that he might ever be receptive to your interrogation. And yet you persist?"
Somewhere outside, beyond Origin, beyond the cycle, beyond everything, Noah continued his journey, each step taking him closer to his destination, each step bringing him to the point that Crys was waiting for - we shall meet again, Noah. Until then--
"I have time enough for that, and for him."
"It would appear that he has no time for you."
…But what time do we have, in a world that is falling apart? (Crys held that thought close, knowing that neither N nor Z would appreciate hearing the question voiced. As such, his thoughts continued.)