theleadingman | avalon: inbox

[Aerith leaves her touch gently resting against his chest, though it's not particularly intrusive. She's thinking less about the tension lingering between them and more about where her priorities surely must be. Not all things can be as pleasant as Balthier, after all.

She wonders, for several moments, how to put it and ultimately decides that the point they're at, there's no sense in trying to be clever about it. No longer a need for roundabout questioning, considering the matter at hand.]

How long were you paying attention to Sephiroth's conversation with me?

[She's aware Sephiroth said things that... may warrant some curiosity and she's not exactly pleased he did. It doesn't mean much in a place like Camelot, but it still comes with a potential for a lot of explanations that Aerith may not be able to fully provide.

...She has her questions for Sephiroth too, when she thinks about it.]

That is, based on his exchange with you, he's not ashamed about saying whatever he cares to publicly. At least, seemed like he would have been more than happy to tell you all about it.

['It' being that thing they don't actually give voice to.]

[His expression shifts to one of disapproval— yes, Sephiroth certainly did seem as though he were prepared to be quite free with all sorts of information. Knowing just how much importance Aerith placed on her privacy, it had only served to provoke him. She had made it clear early on in their friendship that not everything needed to be said aloud, and being much of the same mind, Balthier had been quick to agree. A certain degree of respect for privacy had become the standard between them almost immediately— the present was more interesting than the past, anyway.]

I'll admit, for awhile, I was a bit caught up in my own conversation with him— if it could be called such.

[The man was a dreadful conversationalist by every measure.]

I did glance back. I was— curious to know what else he might say to you.

[That is, if the man was going to continue stepping decidedly out of bounds. He frowns, though only slightly.]

What little I heard didn't make much sense to me without context. I also quickly decided that it wasn't my business. If it was something you wanted me to know, you would tell me yourself, and I found myself preoccupied with trying to ensure he didn't say anything more than he already had.

[As she takes in his response, she's quiet. Attentive. Relieved a little. Kind of. She can't say for certain. She knows Sephiroth said some strange things. And given some of the stuff that she's said, she's not free of judgement entirely.

She finds herself relaxing just in slight before she manages to find her voice once more.]

Oh, good. Makes two of us. Some of what he said made sense. But there's some other stuff that... I don't really know about.

[Aerith shakes her head.]

This might sound a little strange, but stay with me. To my understanding, not everyone from the same world might come from the same time. For instance, according to Sephiroth, I'm already... You know. But it hasn't happened for me yet. He doesn't know that's the case, I guess, so he keeps inadvertently giving me information that... I'm probably not supposed to have.

[Tilting her head, she eyes him easily.]

There's a possibility some of this information could help Midgar and the Planet. It might even be able to help me with my situation. I know you won't like this, but I would like to get more information out of him. Gradually. If I can.

[Easier said than done. Sephiroth is no fool.]

[He listens quite patiently to begin with, offering a minute nod as she touches on the discrepancy between memories— while he and Fran haven't experienced such a displacement themselves, he knows it to be quite common among others. He has to imagine it makes for all sorts of challenges and a great deal of frustration, but as she continues on, a frown pulls at his lips, his brow furrowing.

She's certainly right about one thing: he doesn't care for that idea in the least.

There is, he realizes, a bigger picture here, and in the interest of doing his part to support the greater good, he chooses to focus on that, rather than the compulsion to insist she do the absolute opposite of what she intends to. It hasn't been an hour since he himself had insisted he couldn't promise to stay away from the man in question, if circumstance dictated it.]

How do you plan to do that?

[An honest question, rather than a challenge. Whatever she's planning, he should hope she'll give it due consideration before putting it into action.]

He does seem willing to speak quite freely about any number of things, but needless to say, no, I'm not thrilled with the idea.

[But he does understand where her interests lie, and the expectant look he gives her along with his response says as much. He's willing to listen, for now.]

That's.

[She releases something of a laugh, the first genuine one she's given him all night. A little sheepish, but it sounds like her. An improvement.]

That's a very good question. I don't have an answer yet. Although I've given it a lot of thought, I'm still thinking. I can't go to him directly. If I do, he'll know something's up. He has to think I already know everything. I'm at a disadvantage here. He knows a lot more than I do. I can speculate, but that's all I can do, and given that I'm...

[Anything she says will inevitably leave Balthier more befuddled. She pauses for several long moments and then gently patting him on the chest, she pats the chair where she sat before, implying he ought to take it.]

I'm going to go back to making our tea while we talk about this.

[One more encouraging pat before she weaves her way around the island and she turns the burner he was using back on. Then as she waits, she leans onto her arms as she eyes him.]

It occurs to me that I can't give you the details without really explaining everything. Or, at least the things you need to know to have a better understanding of the situation. It will probably sound a little confusing and strange and as long as you don't go running back into the cold because you can't stand to be around me, I'll consider than a win.

[He opens his mouth to offer an objection, once again prepared to cite his not wanting to be waited on, but stops himself as he concedes that his own efforts to make their tea had resulted in a pair of empty cups, given that he'd interrupted himself midway. His shoulders drop as if accompanying a sigh, and he drops a hand to briefly take hold of her own when she pats his chest before she pulls away and directs him to take a seat.]

Of course.

[He watches her make her way back to the stove as he slides into the offered chair with ease, clasping his hands together atop the island as he considers the implications of her potential plan. Should Sephiroth catch on that she doesn't know as much as he's assumed, would that make him yet more dangerous? It's safe to assume that would be the case, he thinks, but for now he keeps his focus on Aerith. Whatever she's willing to tell him now, it's because this is incredibly important to her.]

I'll gladly listen to whatever you feel to be worth sharing. I should think you would know me to be reasonably open-minded by now.

[Though he hasn't shared many of his own experiences or reasons for that, he's accepted much of what she's already told him in the past without pause. He doubts that will change now.

Still, he offers a faint, crooked smile.]

Nor do you have to worry about that last bit in the least— I don't care to run, if I can help it.

[A bit of levity can only help the situation, yes?]

You say that now. You might change your mind the more you learn. And, if you would, keep what you can between us. You know how I feel about that kind of stuff.

[That is, Aerith likes her secrets and she likes people not knowing very much about her, which by this point, is likely far better explained considering her situation.

For a breath or two, she frowns thoughtfully, realising that in spite of using him to stall for some additional moments of time, she still has no idea how to really explain anything.]

Uhm... Let's see. I don't even know where to begin, but...

[Through some mild gesturing, Aerith takes a moment to explain the planet entity known as the Lifestream, what she knows about it, anyway. That it serves as the life force of the planet and is responsible for the growth of plants and other natural wonders of the world. That those who pass on return to the Lifestream, which is where life begins.

As for the Cetra...

Her explanation there is a bit more sparse and disjointed, unsure of how to better convey that. The Cetra, the Ancient progenitors of humanity, are capable of communicating with the Lifestream and those who have returned to it, perhaps even of channelling it, and thus possess a special kind of bond with the concept of life.

It's all very convoluted, she realises. Knowledge of the Cetra having existed is not an unknown in Midgar, but according to most people, Cetra are beings of legend. It's complicated even back home. She suspects to someone foreign to Gaia, they're even more so.

She assesses Balthier with a knitting of the brow—]

You still with me, or is that too much?

[For some moments in between, Balthier deeply regrets not being equipped to take notes as Aerith offers him her explanations. Fortunately, he's always been a very quick study, and he makes connections and comparisons where he can. The Lifestream shares some qualities with Mist, though certainly not all, and talk of ancient civilizations is hardly new for him— it was precisely the sort of thing that would have captured his father's interest before his focus became so dangerously narrow, and easily would have piqued Balthier's own as a boy, digging through the largest and dustiest tomes he could find in the akademy's library.

When Aerith addresses him directly, his own brow is knit to mirror hers, his experience bordering on just a bit hapless. It's a great deal of information, but she has his full attention. His first thought regarding the Cetra had been to liken them to the Occuria, but it quickly becomes clear that they're far more human than not— caretakers, rather than distant overseers.]

Following along, yes, though if there's a test at the end, I may fall a touch short of perfection.

[Perish the thought.]

Please— continue.

[She utters out a laugh before she can stop it, though she seems a bit relieved that he can insert some of his very Balthier Brand of Humour into the situation. She appreciates levity the most in tense moments, which is very much why she inserted no shortage of it in their Exchange She Doesn't Speak Of, But Definitely Happened. At his encouragement, she finds herself contemplating yet again how she ought to continue.

Still leaning onto her arms, she worries at her bottom lip before she continues. It probably won't make much sense at all, honestly, but maybe if she says it, that's just what it is.]

I know I've spoken a little about Midgar. What it's like. That I can't... really remember travelling out of it. Not well. I don't think I'm from Midgar, but... [The snow. The smell of evergreen trees. Where was that?] I guess that doesn't really matter. Midgar is run by a group of people who've discovered they can condense the Lifestream into—

[Her posture shifts and she raises her hands up into her hair to carefully seek the pink ribbon that's holding her ponytail and beneath it, the materia she's stashed away. As she settles back against the counter, she holds it in the palm of her hand to show him.]

—this. It's materia. It's what allows us to cast magic back home. But I think that group wants to use the energy of the Lifestream for everything. For the sake of luxury and convenience. I don't think they believe or understand what that's doing to the planet. Or... they don't care. But I do. Because I'm a Cetra. I'm connected to it.

[It's difficult not to allow himself to be distracted when she offers him a visual aid— it's vital, he knows, that he pay close attention to what more she has to say, but for just a moment, he feels his breath catch, an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

It looks like nethicite. Even the explanation of how it's made is uncomfortably close to the stones he's more familiar with, but he forces the feeling of uneasiness that threatens to surface to subside, if only for now. If she's been carrying it with her all this time, and she's clearly of sound mind— no, it's not even worth continuing down that line of thought.

Though their worlds may appear to have some similarities, he will not talk himself into believing that to be one of them, not without significant evidence.

Instead, he fixes his gaze on her intently, and when she pauses, he echoes her.]

You're a Cetra.

[His tone is mild, thoughtful rather than surprised. Given the bits and pieces she's told him until now, and given what little he had overheard, it does have the potential to explain a few things.]

I'm guessing that makes you not only incredibly unique in your day and age, but also a target.

[Especially given that she's connected to the force that others seem bent on using as an expendable resource.]

[There is something in him in those moments that she speaks of materia. She isn't sure what, exactly, but something. Instead of lingering on it for too long, she files it away for later thought and questioning.

Closing her hands around the materia she's holding, she remains like so, contemplating all she's told him and his own takeaway from it. A 'target' is almost a kind way of putting it. She's spent the majority of her life being watched and pursued. She's spent her younger years under the hands of a scientist with no interest in ethics. And she suspects when she goes back to Gaia, there's a very high likelihood that it may happen all over again due to her surrender.

For a breath or two, Aerith hums something nonsensical.]

Something like that. I'm sure there's more to it when I start getting into the details, but I don't think it'd interest you much. The important part is what I am and what comes with that. Being bound to the Lifestream, I can hear those who have passed on. Sometimes I can see them. That's where the dreams come from.

[The whistle of the kettle catches her attention and she leaves her materia in favour of tending to their water, carefully pouring them each a cup.]

I don't think there are any other Cetra. I think I'm the only one. Shinra has been watching me for years, insisting they'll protect me, but I know that's not what they plan on doing.

Edited (Mobile tagging) 2021-11-21 16:16 (UTC)

[His first impulse is to correct her by saying that anything that's of consequence to her is of interest to him— but he opts to keep such remarks to himself for the time being, deciding this is neither the time nor place. She'll tell him what she feels is important, and at the moment, that happens to be a great deal.

As she steps away to tend to the water, he finds his gaze drawn to the materia she's left behind, studying it from a distance. Its shape and color aren't so different from deifacted nethicite, though it does not radiate the same pulse of power he had become used to in the presence of such stones. He imagines that given what it's made of, it must give off something, but being from a different world entirely, such things simply may not be his to know.

Even as his gaze remains fixed, he listens and takes note of what she shares, his gaze flickering in her direction, a frown tugging at his lips once more.]

Then they consider you a resource, as well.

[There's a distinct note of disapproval in his voice, bordering very closely on disgust. It seems a fair assumption to make, given what she's said so far.]

They want to use your connection for their own ends.

[When she sets the kettle back down, she turns off the burner and her attention exchanges between their two cups, evidently keeping an eye on how it steeps and when she ought to offer Balthier his. No amount of her watchful eye, however, leaves her ignorant to his assessment of her situation. It's a pretty easy conclusion to come to and not really inaccurate either.]

You're astute.

[Aerith replies to him with a nod.]

Yeah. They've been looking for what is called the Promised Land. In Cetra legend, it's supposed to be a place with an overabundance of the energy source they want. Only a Cetra knows where it's at. When I was little they had my mom and me in their custody. I'd draw pictures on the walls and tell them it was the Promised Land because that's... what it was. They'd take my mom out every day, probably to question her on where it was. When she wouldn't tell them, they decided... why use Cetra who won't cooperate? Why not make their own?

[She doubts she needs to spell it out beyond that.]

So it was like that until we were able to escape. My mom took us to Sector 7 of Midgar and that's that.

[That's not exactly that, but the rest of what follows isn't something Aerith immediately relinquishes.]

Didn't get to be first in my class on good looks alone, I'm afraid.

[His remark falls short of offering levity this time around; his tone is sharper, the edge of it honed by the serious nature of the truth she's offered him. For everything she says, there must be a handful of things she doesn't, and he's well-practiced when it comes to reading between the lines.

So much of what she shares reminds him of his father at his worst. What would Dr. Cid have done, given an opportunity to have someone like Aerith in his possession? Perhaps what was more concerning was that after a certain point, what wouldn't he have done?

It makes it a simple affair, filling in the blanks, imagining what sort of life she must have lead in Shinra's custody. All of the things she doesn't care to say, and he won't ask her to revisit. The very thought of it makes him livid— captivity since childhood, so early that she doesn't remember a home before Midgar, but is fairly certain she's not from there to begin with.

One of his hands has curled itself into a tight fist atop the island, dangerously close to white-knuckled, the angle of his jaw especially sharp as he sets it to keep his anger in check.]

You've been free since then?

[He doesn't believe 'that's that' for a moment, but the implications of what came before it are monstrous enough that he's not even certain he would be able to process what came next, even if she said.]

That men of science would use their knowledge in such a way—

[He cuts himself off, scoffing sharply as he shakes his head, scowling.]

An all too common tale, I am beginning to think, and no less horrific for it.

[But it's quite clear that she's been through more than words can say. Even all of this is only scratching the surface, and his frown remains even as he reaches across the island to extend a hand to her.]

You're incredibly resilient. I hope you realize that.

'Free' is a nice way of putting it.

[It's not how she'd say it. 'Free' is not what she thinks when Shinra and the Turks are watching her every move. She can just imagine the field day they'd have if she ever got it into her head to leave Midgar. And to be fair... she can't do that to Elmyra. Mom, in other words. Mom of a sort. As much a mom as Mom was.

She shakes her head. Seems like every time a scientist gets brought up, her reaction is something the same. She thinks back to her afternoon out with Claire, what she learned about Sherry's parents. How science inevitably comes down to a concept of what can be done, rather than what should be done. In a man like Hojo, has he ever possessed ethic and morality of some kind? She doubts it. Probably always been twisted with no one to stop him from getting to that point.

...How does a person reach that?

The greater question is what kind of run-ins Balthier has had with scientists. He obviously is quite familiar. Aerith eyes him for several long moments, curious in her own right. Not willing to pry. Rather, as unwilling to pry into him as he has been into her. Inquisitive, but never pressing.

He offers her his hand and she knows exactly what that is. Comfort, in one fashion or another. At his assessment of her person, she shakes her head modestly. There are others who have it worse. She can't be spending so much time thinking about herself. She offers him his tea in place of her hand.

Clever.]

I'm just me, Balthier. That's all I can ever be.

[Even now, she's still saying the same thing. It's what makes Aerith the very epitome of 'Aerith.']

[He lets out a soft huff of breath as he finds himself rebuffed, making an effort to graciously accept his tea as he slides the cup closer once she's offered it. Well, that had certainly been a deliberate choice— one that in retrospect, he isn't terribly surprised by. It's just like her.]

You say that often.

[They both have such philosophies they stand by, it would seem.]

'Just' you seems to be underselling a bit, in my opinion.

[Yes, perhaps he has come to be biased, but that doesn't change the fact that he means such things when he says them. He pauses to take a careful sip of his tea, setting it down in front of him before before continuing on.]

Many people would not have the strength to remain kind and generous as you so often are, in such a situation.

[They would become closed off. She's done that, as well, though in a less obvious way— one wouldn't think it upon first meeting her, not with the warmth she offers to nearly everyone who crosses her path.]

... thank you, for trusting me enough to tell me. I know it can't have been particularly pleasant, having to recount all of that.

[She shouldn't find it amusing at all, and yet she does. Aerith looses the smallest laugh. Sincere, at that. His expression doesn't go unnoticed at all. He knows exactly what she's up to. But as he continues, the features in her face soften. He has nothing but kind things to say in the face of her adversity. She didn't share any of that for his sympathy. For his input. Not that she's stopped him from giving it. Nor would she want to. He has the freedom to speak.

Leaning onto the counter, she carefully curls her touch around her teacup, indulging in the warmth emanating from it.]

I think that will help you complete whatever portrait you've painted of me in your head. Regardless of that, it doesn't define me. I'm not who I am because of it.

[She's who she is in spite of it.]

In my position, the right thing to do is to help others where I can. That includes you. Although it sounds like to me you're in pretty good hands.

[Her head tilts as she eyes Balthier thoughtfully.]

How is Fran acclimating?

It certainly does fill in some gaps, though I can't say it's done anything to change the way I perceive you.

[Meant to be somewhat complimentary, he supposes, but also largely practical. He knows full well how difficult it is to separate oneself from the past. Even with a clear idea of who you are and who you'd like to be moving forward, even refusing to let such things define you, there are always ghosts.

His remark regarding her resilience still stands, and he doubts there's much of anything that could change his mind.

He lifts his gaze even as he curls his fingers around his own cup, and something about that particular question makes his heart sink, followed by the distinct weight of disappointment settling over him. Had he really expected that anything had changed? He had said he could accept that they would have to part ways, but he's finding it difficult to mean that, even with the decision not being his to make. It's already been made for him, and he finds himself most annoyed with his own foolishness at daring to be hopeful when it seems she's prepared to push him in the direction of another woman to help expedite the process.

Incredibly vain and foolish, indeed, to think a tearful exchange in her kitchen meant that anything had actually changed. He misses the days when he defaulted to cynicism rather than hope.

He frowns, suddenly finding the surface of his tea to be very interesting.]

She's fine. Pirates are well-suited to finding their way around someplace new. She liked the flowers. Wanted to meet you.

I heard about that.

[Rather, Fran invited her. Aerith muses over that thoughtfully. Perfectly willing to up until she realised where she was. Although she supposes she ought to give Fran some time. Undeniably, she's curious over the kind of woman that Balthier could describe so divinely. Of course she wants to know who that type of person is.

Inevitably, to compare herself against her.]

I'll have to make some time for her. Not sure when, but... after a lot of thought, I would like to meet her.

[Aerith traces her forefinger about her teacup in thought.]

I'm thankful that she's here. You've been here long enough on your own. It's good to have her. Gives you someone from home to be connected to. It's not that I don't think you could handle yourself. You're charismatic, after all. You don't have a shortage of friends here. It just isn't the same. I know you aren't the kind to share much of yourself. Fran knows you. It gives you somewhere safe that you can be if you need it.

[Drawing her gaze back onto Balthier, she wears a small, if not subtle smile. But her words seem to be genuine.]

I would have taken you to meet her the very day she arrived, if you had let me.

[While Aerith is able to remain smiling, Balthier is distinctly lacking in that area at the moment— it's unthinkable, in any other circumstance, that Fran would be something he would consider a sore subject, but that was when all this had rapidly begun to change, wasn't it? Aerith had insisted on being happy for their reunion, the same as she says she is now, but this talk of his being in good hands rubs him the wrong way, as though he requires a handler.]

Regardless, I think she would quite like you. [What isn't there to like, after all?] Not only because of how I feel about you, but very much on your own merits.

[His frown deepens slightly, brow furrowed as he glances upwards.]

I never could put my finger on why you didn't want to meet sooner.

[It wasn't just that she had wanted to give Fran time to settle that first day. There had been repeated invitations, repeated evasions— just like with his efforts to get her to see him.]

I needed time.

[She responds simply. Time to adjust. Time to accept. Time to get her feelings in order.]

And it would be better for me to meet her without you being there. I want to see her with my own eyes. I want to see what kind of person she is.

[Taking her teacup back into her hands, Aerith indulges in a long drink with a sigh. After a moment's thought, she straightens up. And then—]

—Oh, shit. I forgot to ask you if you wanted anything in your tea. Do you want sugar or anything? I've never asked you how you take it.

[She sets her teacup down and turns to cross over to the other side of her kitchen where her cabinets are. Aerith lifts her hands, finding the only downside is so many of the shelves are a good deal taller than her. Which means most of the time she has to hoist herself up onto the counter to get a good look at inventory.]

Uhm... Sugar. Spices, if you like that kind of thing...

Just milk, please.

[He watches her with interest as she turns her back, his gaze narrowing. A genuine concern, perhaps, but it had also been a sudden change of topic. Was she stalling? Looking to avoid answering him more thoroughly? Perhaps not, but the answer she had given him strikes him as just strange enough that he continues to pursue it.]

You needed time.

[There's a note of consideration in his voice as he echoes her. What did that mean?

He tests the waters just a bit more, having released his teacup for the time being.]

I didn't realize meeting a friend was such an occasion.

That's what I said.

[Didn't he hear her the first time?

Just like that she helps herself back down, shuts the cabinets, and goes searching through her refrigerator before she eventually emerges with milk, which she sets down gently in front of him.]

She's not just a friend, Balthier. She's obviously very important to you. It's a little bit of a nerve-racking situation to be in, meeting someone like her. I have to worry about how I come off, what she thinks of me, how I measure up. I don't expect you to understand and I'm not asking you to.

[Aerith shakes her head at him as she reaches for her teacup again.]

I said what I said. I needed time to prepare myself for it.

[He'd certainly heard her, and he hears her explanation just as clearly, but can't help himself from feeling stuck on it.

The timing of everything hardly seems to be an accident, though it's possible he's overthinking things. Aerith had warned him early on that she would always do what she thought was right, and that he might not like that— so perhaps it was only coincidence, something that had been inevitable all along, but her explanation only makes him that much more suspicious.]

Thank you.

[He gives a polite nod when she sets the milk down in front of him, his expression still thoughtful as he dutifully pours a bit into his tea.]

I'd like to understand— that's all, regardless of whether or not you need me to.

[Shake your head all you like, Aerith, but he's stuck on this one.]

But no, you're quite right, she's not just a friend. Family would be more apt. I suppose pressure in such a situation is to be... expected. I hardly have a wealth of experience in this area.

[That would require letting any entanglement last more than a single night.]

Really?

[Aerith's eyebrows knit together as she assesses him. But then, it is Balthier. He isn't the greatest when he comes to feelings, but it's not like she has any room to talk there. Something, something stones and glass houses. For whatever reason, she can't help herself any maybe, for once, that's a good thing.]

That's all you're calling her?

[She waits until he's done with pouring his milk before she puts it back in the refrigerator.]

Rarely does one talk about a woman like she's a goddess and just define her as 'family.' You should just tell her you love her, Balthier. But if she's as familiar with you as it sounds, she probably already knows.

[Returning to her tea, Aerith seems anything but accusatory. If anything, she seems startlingly genuine. Balthier practically glowed when he spoke of Fran. There's no way that's family. You don't just glow when you're speaking of family. 'Family' is an understatement when it comes to her.]

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