Idle Chatter About The Apocalypse

[endcaller]

Who: Fandaniel, Viktor (Warrior of Light)
Where: The Aetherochemical Research Facility
What: A mad Ascian learns what happened to his world after he died. Drama ensues.
Warnings: Major spoilers for FFXIV through Endwalker. Usual Fandaniel warnings for suicidal ideation/references, nihilism, despair, talk of a literal apocalypse. Please use discretion when reading


[The gleaming facade of the Aetherochemical Research Facility's entryway juts out of the farmland at impossible angles. Underground, the rest of the great structure that had once clung to the underbelly of the Flagship like a parasite spirals downward.

Fandaniel stands in the front hall, arms akimbo, staring up at the dancing lights emitted by Marvyn. He tries to keep his mind blank. He tries not to think of sad songs and dark wings the color of his madness. He tries not to think about the vast expanse of nothingness that should have rightly consumed his entire star, himself included. There will be time to unpack that later, once he has more information and can fit the puzzle together.

When he hears footsteps he calls out without turning.]

I trust that is you, hero?

I am so delighted you chose to come.

Tell you what, I shall offer you this chance to kill me where I stand and bring the last chapter of the Final Days to a close. I'll not fight back. Perhaps we will both be lucky and the AI will allow me to remain dead.

Comments

[clutterbitch]

[ How strange this familiar facility looks without the sickly sallow haze of Azys Lla surrounding it. Unwreathed by storm or fog, surrounded by idyllic pastoral scenery, the glowing lights and garish colors call to Viktor's mind a Garlean Castrum collided with a circus; a place as apt to play host to entertainment as suffering. Which, he supposes, does make a great deal of sense, given its owner.

And there he is, not difficult at all to see, what with the bright Allagan glow. Viktor studies his silhouette, wordless, unable to decide what to make of the tangle of his own insides. Thankfully, Fandaniel hears him, speaks, before he can delve too deep into his own opinions. ]

Oh, no. I've tussled with you quite enough. The Final Days are ended, and, goodness, can you believe? A new set of days began right after!

[ Funny how "Final" is never so final. ]

Should you wish me to separate that soul of yours from the meat once again, you must e-earn it.

[ When he strolls up beside Fandaniel, he tugs the Ascian's hood down further over his eyes, downright teasing. Difficult, after everything, to tread this ground with the same caution he had a year ago. ]

And I do not mean with violence, Fandaniel. You must do some good, first. Then, we can talk. [ He glances down at the mad Ascian, tired gaze softening. ] And anyway, I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.

[endcaller]

[Fandaniel fusses quietly when his hood is pulled over his eyes. He reaches up, claps a glove against the crown of his head and pushes it back into place.]

Me? Good? Through valor I earn myself a death at your hand? Feh.

[A snort.

And how is it that his Final Days failed? How, and why, would Etheirys survive? Several emotions play out across his stolen features before he quiets the buzzing locusts of his mind.]

What promise? Dare I ask?

[clutterbitch]

[ One shoulder rises and falls lazily in response to that snort, but he does a poor job of seeming disaffected long. The play of feeling on Fandaniel's face leaves Viktor arching his brows. Of all the things Fandaniel could ask about next -- the Meteia, the Final Days, the state of Eitherys -- it is a surprise that this is what he settles on. A surprise, but hardly an irrelevant question. ]

Oh, hero, though brave of you to ask, 'tis a secret.

[ A faint grin. Nevermind that the version of Amon he'd made the promise to had hardly seemed amenable to it in the first place. And to deliver it scant seconds before the two had been permanently separated, well, it's a surprise to have been given the chance to follow through on it so soon and in such a way.

He wanders toward the nearest wall, slender fingers sliding over the surface carefully, as though even after a month in this place he is still skeptical of its realness. The wall is solid, though. Familiar, even. He does his level best not to think of Thordan's eyes, full of fear as their light dimmed. ]

This is your laboratory. [ Disbelief hangs heavy in his voice. He glances over his shoulder. ] Will I be receiving the grand t-tour? Or are we straight to business, then?

[endcaller]

Would you believe I am a hero in the eyes of our fellow Chosen? A savior of this very star, even. Alas, I haven't the time to tell such tales.

[Though the story of how he, Fandaniel, the Endcaller, helped save Expiation from an imminent apocalypse is very funny.

He folds arms across his sinewy chest and frowns up at Viktor.]

'Twould seem that this time 'tis I who wishes to get straight to business. If your tale of the Final Days is true, I would prefer going mad sooner than later.

[His words are clipped by a loud whirring sound as a small, box-shaped robot wheels around the corner from the direction of Automachina Research. It races urgently across the floor until bumps against Viktor's feet.

"HELLO!" its screen says lights up with enthusiastic text. "WELCOME TO THE AETHEROCHEMICAL RESEARCH FACILITY! FOLLOW ME.... PLEASE."

Very slowly it turns itself around and gently slides across the floor, back in the direction it came from. Fandaniel watches it with a blank stare then throws his arms up in surrender.]

Or perhaps you shall receive a tour! Come, we shall talk as we walk. Let us begin at the beginning, then. I remember dying with stark clarity. I remember reaching into my chest and crushing...ah...myself, I suppose! 'Twas a very queer sensation, I must say.

i guess warning from here on out for Totally Spoiling Endwalker to anyone snooping lmao

[clutterbitch]

[ Viktor's brows bounce once. Fandaniel, an earnest hero. One who would forego a chance at annihilation to ensure the safety, the lives of others. The part of Viktor that has grown weary, dragged from one tragedy to the next by the skin of his teeth, wants that to feel unbelievable. But, it does not. Given what little the Warrior of Light knows of his most confounding foe, the history of that soul, the nature of his torment, it rather makes perfect sense.

He has nothing productive to say about it, so instead, Viktor presses his fists to his hips, taking on an easy heroic stance to counter the surly tangle of arms over Fandaniel's chest. ]

Stars! Had I known it was opposite day, I would've dressed more appropriately.

[ His attention snaps right away to the little creature whirring toward them. What a pleasant little thing. And curious, Viktor supposes, when he realizes that it is decidedly not a node of Allagan make. Questions arise, but can wait until later, to be dredged up alongside the investigation into Fandaniel's alleged heroics.

For now, he falls in line behind the little bot, both delighted and obedient. ]

At least someone here is a fine host.

[ There is a grin audible in his voice. But it fades quickly when he goes on. ]

Aye, terribly th-theatrical of you. With that god of blood gone, there was nothing to protect Eitherys from the despair that had been ringing around us the whole time. As my friends and I did our best to make our way home, the song of the Meteia snuck tendrils into the places where aether was thinnest...

[ He doesn't need the tour. Has plumbed at least half the halls of this place, he is sure, wrecking this and that in the hopes that he might protect their star, not yet realizing at the time that each shattered vat, every splatter of his own blood, each felled creature was something that would happen, needed to happen, to close the loop.

A strange numbness washes over him, as though he's being pulled from his own body. Oh, how he hates that feeling. Viktor closes his eyes, following the sound of the robot by ear, instead. Come what may, he will ever keep walking. ]

That was the secondary intention of those towers of yours, I assume? S-scraping away aether to make a better bed for the Song to take root?

[endcaller]

Aye.

[Fandaniel bounces on his heels.]

I did tell you my inventions were ingenious, no? Some of my greatest work.

[He thinks back to their design. Simple, elegant, brutal. He remembers explaining them to Zenos and receiving only an impassive stare in response.]

A great amount of aether was needed to power the Gateway of the Gods so what better place to gather it than from the land itself? 'Twas my aim to sap the star dry so that when Zodiark fell there would be naught left to shield it from the Final Days.

Though...

[The excitement drops from his voice, replaced by a low snarl.]

You are still here so I must assume that, genius though they were, they failed.

[clutterbitch]

[ Viktor does not flinch at that familiar, dark change, though it does flare something inside of him. Is it fear? Anger? He cannot place it, the sensation dulled by his mind trying to put distance between Viktor and the culmination of his duty.

Eyes still shut, he reaches one hand out to his side to trace the walls with his fingertips as they walk. Seeking grounding in the familiar texture of Allagan technology. It soothes some longing ache in his heart for a piece of home, but does little to defeat the heavy numbing weight settled over him. ]

Oh, no. They were quite effective in Thavnair and Garlemald. 'Twas threading into Eorzea and Othard, as well, before we stopped it. Many- [ A pause, a breath. Viktor's voice loses its color. ] -many not simply killed, but wholly erased. Burnt to nothing. Replaced with raging creatures of pure despair. Dynamis, rather than aether.

[ Viktor opens his eyes, needing anything to focus on in that moment that isn't his own mind, his own memory. ]

I daresay, what I saw soundly put Emet-Selch's Final Days to shame... [ Grimly amused, he cuts his gaze to Fandaniel. ] I am sure you are quite p-proud.

[endcaller]

Oh aye, quite proud indeed.

[Fandaniel scoffs.

Something beneath his heart starts to rapidly uncoil. A fit of madness is about to consume him, he can feel it.]

'Twas ever my ambition to annihilate two nations of many in my Final Days. My magnum opus, my life's great work, all to ensure two meaningless nations perish.

[Gleaming silver eyes snap to Viktor and peer up at him. Madness within them threatens to spill over.]

Pray tell me that there was more. That at least most of Eorzea and Othard fell as well.

[clutterbitch]

[ Viktor recognizes that look, glimpsed in Garlemald and again upon the moon. He stops, turns to face Fandaniel. A fire curls in his gut in answer to that gaze, darker than anger, deeper than fear; the sense memory of being separated from his own body, stuffed into something else. His own eyes narrow.

It could not even reach Thanalan, he thinks to say, wanting somewhere to put all the bile roiling to life inside of him. Or, better, in Tural, they do not even know it happened.

But Viktor catches those words behind his teeth, silences himself until he has mastered this furious panic. Pain begets only more pain. And it would not do, in this strange place full of strange people, to rekindle their mutual animosity so soon. ]

Breathe.

[ It is an order, given flatly, as much as to himself as Fandaniel. A pause, a sigh. ]

No. 'Fore the Song could permeate the Source, I went to the First on the promise of a flower. With what was l-left of Elidibus, we used the Crystal Tower to open passage to the distant past, Eitherys. There, I learnt of Hermes, of Meteion, and where she and her sisters built their nest.

Upon my return, my friends and I ventured into the Aetherial Sea...

[ Viktor's breath catches. His gaze falls. He turns away and resumes walking, needing a moment. ]

[endcaller]

[The uncoiling increases in pace, ending with a cold snap somewhere deep within him. A miasma of darkness falls across his mind.

Failed. He failed. After all of his careful planning, his Final Days failed. And the Crystal Tower played a role in that failure.

This is good, isn't it? something whispers in the depths of his soul. I brought cataclysm to the star, but life endured. Is that not proof of mankind's worth?]

No!

[Fandaniel exhales the word with a sharp breath, not knowing if he is talking to Viktor or himself. Not that it matters. Nothing matters.

A shudder of laughter fills his lungs. He lets it spill past his lips.]

Ahahahaha!

'Tis....'Tis not the end, though, s-surely.

[More laughter rattles through him. He's gone mad. He's lost. The world is alive against all odds, and he can't stop laughing. Birds sing, the sun shines, a land that brought him nothing but pain still draws breath, and he can't stop laughing.]

The world lives, but so do I!

And so long as I yet live, I can try again. Perhaps the F-Final Days f-failed but something else, yes, something else could...

...A clever Ascian can find a way to die and do as much damage as possible in the pro-ho-cess...

[Another cackle sweeps over him, stealing the rest of his words, and he staggers to one side to brace himself against the wall.

Up ahead, the small, box-like robot spins in place and rushes back to its master, recognizing a fit of madness. It whirls around Fandaniel's ankles and beeps frantically until one boot heel comes down in a hard stomp. With one last frantic beep, it rolls out of the way.]

Again. I'll try again. A-an encour is in order....

[He looks toward Viktor, but can't see him through the tears of pain and laughter clouding his vision. The Warrior is a stark shade against the bright lights of the Facility, surrounded by a penumbra of moon-like glow. Even with blurred vision, the Hero of Etheirys's radiance can be seen.]

F-forgive me. What were you saying before I so--hehehe--so rudely interrupted? Something about the Aetherial Sea? You met with your Mother in those depths I assume?

I hope that useless old relic died. I hope you killed her.

[clutterbitch]

[ Fandaniel falls behind. Viktor is paces ahead before he even notices, distracted by the need to escape thoughts of the Aetherial Sea and what transpired there, what came after. It's the laughter that pulls him back. Familiar raw, poisoned sound that makes his muscles tense in anticipation of some wretched bit of explosive magic that never actually comes. Just the rising panic of an animal watching its cage door slam shut.

Viktor is not surprised to find Fandaniel grasping for purchase against the wall when he turns. The knot that tightens in his chest at the sight isn't all that surprising either, but its nature is more difficult to place. He tells himself it's pity as he returns to stand before the Ascian, lost in his madness.

It's disappointing that he should so quickly return to form. Viktor listens, waits for Fandaniel's panic to pass, and flinches at the mention of his Mother, the old relic. Anger, dull as it is, flares to life in his stomach, followed by a terrible, homesick ache. Were G'raha Tia here, this would doubtless be his moment to shine, appealing to Amon in a way he would understand. But G'raha Tia is not here. There is just Viktor, who even at the best of times has never trusted his words to do any sort of convincing.

And this is not the best of times. His own panic, dark and alarming, lights up his nerves at the prospect of fighting back against the Final Days anew. Viktor steps into Fandaniel's space; if he wishes to escape, he will have to shove past. ]

Aye. The world lives, and so do you. And if you do decide to... "try again", I will hew an auracite vessel - from my own soul if I m-must - stuff you inside of it, and carry you with me while I feed orphaned puppies and rescue damsels from towers. I will dedicate the waning years of my l-life to seeing you become a new Tupsimati, a new Crystal Tower, a new old relic. And after I am gone, you will earn your death only in being used to s-save the world.

[ Viktor lifts a hand, thumb gentling against Fandaniel's cheek, to wipe away tears. ]

Do you understand me? [ He exhales, misliking how even now, all his anger is cold, wet ash. The threat, however, does not leave his voice. ] We will find a better way than that. You've a question to answer for yourself, after all.

cw: suicidal ideation

[endcaller]

Oh, aye?

And what question is that, pray tell?

[There is only one it could be.

What gives life meaning in the face of suffering and death's certainty? Why, given life, are we meant to die?

Somehow, Viktor learned his question. Maybe in Elpis. The fool Hermes had the same question, after all. His pursuit of an answer was so mad that he'd cursed his soul for all time. Every Fandaniel would be forever restless, unable to find happiness in the world or in the distant stars. Himself included.

Fandaniel's gaze falls to the floor, fluttering dark lashes against his cheek before he waves an arm to violently shove Viktor's hand away.]

Perhaps this is the reason I've been spared. I am meant to try again. How can you be so certain that fate has not decreed that all life must be snuffed out? Why else would death's great harbinger be allowed to live?

[He will try again. He must.

But Viktor's threat sends a cold shudder through him. Enduring for centuries, possibly even aeons, as a trapped soul is a fate far crueler than any he can imagine. Trapped, watching the world grind ever onward while unable to act. Only allowed sweet oblivion when his aether is channeled into a great weapon wielded against an overwhelming foe.

...And if anyone could somehow find a way to do it, it's the Warrior of Light.

He huffs and twirls in place, his robe lifting around him like flower petals.]

You can stop me before anyone comes to harm. Kill me here and now. I promise I won't even dodge your attack.

cw: bunny thinks of nothing but murder all day

[clutterbitch]

[ Fluttering purple calls to Viktor's mind not a flower but the sort of warning flicker of vivid color a venomous creature might show in a glimpse of frills or tongue before lashing out to bite. ]

I may be a fool, but I am not blind. I have heard how death w-works in this place.

[ Pointless. Energy wasted. Pain inflicted, and for what? Fandaniel would wake in due time, no worse for wear, no more healed by temporary death. Still, Viktor cannot pretend that the temptation is not there. A cathartic bit of violence to repay what happened in Garlemald. Would it relieve the way his skin still itches, closing his hands around Fandaniel's neck and choking that old ghost out of that same body? Would it change the knowledge of who'd crawled beneath his own skin? Where his own soul had been stowed in the meantime?

Viktor balls his hands to fists, jaw clenched, and takes a step back, putting space between the two of them. ]

I did kill her, you know. Hydaelyn. Venat. [ He tips his chin up. ] But I fought Amon again first, in the Sea, before he was pulled down to be reborn again.

[ He will not elaborate. Not with Fandaniel dancing toward a full breakdown. This is escalating too quickly, and he does not trust himself to be kind. Not here alone, not so far from those who've given him cause to be better than he is. ]

I know not what fate's d-design is, now. I am certain of nothing, save this: Meteion's feathers are blue once more. Her k-keening has stopped, and in its place, she sings a song that bids all things live.

[ Viktor takes another step back, glances toward the facility's exit, still visible down the long hall. ]

Though your aether is much the same, you are not Meteion, and you are not Hermes. But... are you not more like her than that Ancient? If they think you a hero here, why prove them wrong?

[endcaller]

The resurrections.

[Fandaniel folds his hands over his chest and grins.]

I think I should do something about those. If our resident AI is bringing us back, then 'tis through mechanical or computational means. It shouldn't be hard to break the system and restore some semblance of natural order.

[As fun as it is to act recklessly with no regard for physical wellbeing, it gets old. What is life without death? It's a joke with no punchline. A joke that gets more twisted and cruel the longer it goes on. The one merciful thing about existence is that it ends.

He blows out a breath and rises to his tiptoes.]

As for whether or not I resemble Meteion, who cares? We came to the same conclusions, but does this poor, miserable creature standing before you seem like the sort of man who could learn a different melody? Hm? Not likely. Certainly not in this lifetime.

Of course...from what you say, my lifetime is at its end. Amon, pulled into the Aetherial Sea...

Is that true?

[Another life to suffer through, to be alone through. A five thousand year long quest for answers forced to start again. He doubts he will learn happiness or peace in the next life. He can't. The fool Hermes left an imprint of pain on his soul that will never fade. No matter how many times he is reborn, he will always be miserable.

The thought raises fire in his heart, and the fingers of one hand, still clasped against his chest, clenches into fabric.]

You killed me. Not once but twice! Three times, if you include my poor clone. And in that final death, did I fade back into aether. My mind broken, my memories unwound, all so I can be reborn and suffer through another tedious existence. Goodness, what a cruel little hero you are!

Could you not have at least blasted me into nothingness as you did Nabriales?

[clutterbitch]

[ Wisteria eyes watch gloved fingers gather fabric, bracing against a familiar sort of pain. Viktor bites down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from petty snapping, but it does not keep a disgusted noise from rumbling out of the back of his throat. He works his jaw, crosses his arms over his chest, trying his best to grip compassion.

Ultimately, though, immaturity wins out. ]

If you'd just s-stay dead, I wouldn't have to sweep you up so often. Wretched man. You'll forgive me for not taking more custom orders, but you were p-perfectly lucid at the end. [ Resigned, even, it'd seemed at the time. Viktor will leave his promise out of it. ] No unwinding at all. You were h-hardly broken.

[ He exhales sharply, looking again toward the exit, refusing to be baited into a greater argument. It would be smarter to leave, to not draw Fandaniel into a debate that might spur him toward his infernal world-ending plans once more. But- ]

You are right about the artificial intelligence. [ Viktor pauses, turns away. ] Life without meaningful death is trouble enough, to say nothing of the effect it might be having both upon the star that powers this system and those from which souls were s-stolen.

[endcaller]

[Fandaniel disagrees. He was broken. He knows this because he's always broken. Was born broken. Died broken. Will be reborn broken.

His lungs draw in a breath, but he quickly deflates as Viktor continues.]

Aye!

'Tis my aim to unearth the truth of this accursed machine and the world of mirrors. [Which Viktor might not know about, but he continues anyway.] To which end, I am modifying the Aetherochemical Research Facility. Instead of focusing their gaze on the Warring Triad, these laboratoriums will study the world around us.

[He's babbling, but he doesn't care. His pale features light up in a grin.]

Would you care to assist me in this endeavor, brave hero? Would you abandon your very understandable hatred of me to find a means of escaping and shutting the Intelligence down once and for all? Or shall we return to our pre-written roles and ah...

....Is "destroy each other" too dramatic a phrase?