Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Bwa ha ha. Not for me, the master of pulling extra stuff out of thin air.))

Calaman smiled weakly at Ed's excitement, giving little hint of the uneasiness he felt at... well, too many things to name. When Rogan presented himself, Calaman returned the mildly curious look.

"Rogan's still accompanying us? On the Thunder Plains? Come to think of it, how long have I been - er - gone?"

"Few days," Aer said, looking off where Rogan had pointed.

"That's all? I could have sw..." Calaman sighed. "Well. Don't let me hold us up."

"You'd better explain yourself sometime in the next fast," Aer said, "or else Lady Ed will have an aneurysm, and I'll go batty trying to figure out the specifics of what happened to you. And that little light show you just put on for us."

"Can we go?" Jalisat put in loudly. "I'm wet."

Jalisat chose to forgo a chair in favor of sitting on the floor, far too close to the fireplace. Thankfully he faced the fire instead of paying attention to the discussion; otherwise, his clothes might catch fire without him even noticing.

"You might not be able to take a lot of this on faith," Calaman said to his hands, which still glistened with a thin sheen of rainwater. He wiped them on his (also damp) trousers.

It suddenly struck him as odd, somehow, that he'd come back looking exactly the same as when he'd left. His story might have more credence if he'd come back marked somehow. An arcane brand, maybe. Some sort of tattoo. Hell, a fancy uniform or a glowing aura.

Calaman shook his head slightly. It didn't become him, all this introspection.

"Ah - well. Where to start?"

"The useful part," Aer suggested, and his tone, at least, was sincere. Calaman tried very hard to hear the sarcasm and triteness, but oddly enough, it just wasn't there.

"Fair enough, mage. Let me see... Yevon." He paused, though he wasn't sure why. "I met a - thing. I guess the most accurate term for him would be 'Aeon', but he's not like Valefor or Ifrit." He looked over at Ed and mentally filled in the blanks. "Or Ixion. He was - He said he was a Guardian. Archa's Guardian. I guess that must mean he's the previous Final Aeon, but..."

"Lady Archa," Jalisat interrupted, looking over his shoulder. He was smiling while he showed off his historical knowledge, but his brow was furrowed in confusion. "Then it would be... I don't remember his name, but he was a white mage, wasn't he?"

"A hybrid of sorts," Aer said. "From what I know, he started out as a white mage, but he preferred to eschew specialties. He was more of a... scholar. An arcane scholar, rather than a warrior, but no more specific than that. I'd wager he knew a little bit of magic that was neither white nor black."

"Whatever he knew back then," Calaman said dismissively, "he knows a sight more now. He controls some kind of private domain. It's like a tiny little world apart from Spira, dark and isolated, but totally under his control. I think it's connected to the Farplane, somehow. I can't think of anyplace else that would have such - strange characteristics. It was like I was caged inside his mind. Like I said, I can't think of anywhere on Spira it might have been. Anyway, it's pointless speculating on it without all the facts, isn't it? He - taught me. He wanted to train me, and he did, but his plans, his intentions, were not in line with the pilgrimage. Some of the things he said..."

"Heresy?" Aer suggested.

"I don't even think that word describes it," Calaman said. "Not from a being like him. He wants to - well, he believes - that doesn't sound right, look, the point is, remember, he was Guardian to the last High Summoner. What he wanted me to believe was that Yevon is some kind of - " Demon, devil, fiend? " - malevolent being, its origins unknown, and that it somehow sustains itself by maintaining the status quo."

"That's a little too vague to be useful, I think," the black mage tried to say with as little rudeness as possible.

"What I mean is... He thinks Yevon is evil."

"Simple enough."

"And he believes that the continuing cycle of Sin's destruction and rebirth by Summoners is, somehow, what keeps Yevon ali - well, maybe not alive, but you get the meaning."

"So," Aer said, "What about Sin? What does this mysterious not-quite-dead Guardian-Aeon think about Sin?"

"Sin is but a tool of a greater force - Yevon, of course. Striking Sin down, according to Pheos, serves no purpose but to perpetuate the cycle. Certainly the Summoners save lives by completing the pilgrimage, that much is indisputable. The Calms are by no means a bad thing. But he believes that he can end the cycle permanently."

"The Eternal Calm." Aer's eyes grew distant, and Calaman's gaze snapped to the black mage, seeing that Aer's mind had gone somewhere else. Curious, but not of pressing importance.

"Achieved not by conventional means - defeating Sin - but by seeing beyond the tool, and striking down the one who holds it."

"So it is to be heresy after all," Aer said.

Calaman sighed. "I don't know if it is that simple. What kind of Guardian would just make up - "

"But how do you know everything he told you is true?" Aer said simply. "You disappeared in a Cloister, in the midst of a pilgrimage fraught with unprecedented complications. Aeons attacking summoners. Bizarre, disturbing tests administered by - apparently - the Fayth themselves. Could it not have been another such test? The way I see it, it's probable that you passed the test by defying the thing, whoever or whatever it may have been, if it was even real."

"It was real," Calaman said in what was almost a growl. Aer drew back slightly. It had been a while since the bloody-minded boy had turned his aggression on the mage, but something about him was a little more intimidating, now. "I can show you at least one piece of proof that I speak the truth. What he trained me in was magic. As you said, he knows a great deal of both black and white magic, and I learned a lot of it from him. I doubt I could match you in wind magic, mage, but that is probably the only element with which you can best me."

Aer stared at the boy. "You are mad," he said, bemused.

Calaman closed his eyes, and the flames in the fireplace seemed to shudder - though that could have been imagination, coupled with the uncertain lighting. "Aer, you reacted to my mention of the Eternal Calm, before. I wasn't looking into your mind at the time, out of respect, so tell me, which memory had that effect on you - the memory of your wife, or that of your son?"

"He's married?" Jalisat blurted out. "I thought he was after Lady Ed!"

Aer looked like he was going to throw up. After a moment, Calaman sighed.

"I'm sorry, Aer. That was... I'm sorry."

Aer rose to his feet. For once, he looked completely out of sorts, like a lost child. No smart remarks for the time being, then. "I'm - We sh..." He trailed off, obviously searching for something to say. Then, without explanation, he just left the inn.

Calaman had his head in his hands. "There's no way I'm going to avoid paying for that," he muttered, and fell silent. It quickly became apparent that he wasn't going to say anything else without prompting.

((And once again, I held a long-arse conversation with myself, disregarding the other characters... feel free to interject, and I/Calaman/whoever is addressed will respond. We can pretend the conversation is occurring in the right order, lol.

Anyway, here's another glimpse of why Aer didn't see anyone in the Farplane, but more importantly, Calaman is getting some neat character development while disturbing everyone with his newfound powers and knowledge. xd ))

((And after this, I promise I will leave it alone until you can respond. It's just that I keep thinking about things and clarifying things in my mind. Hopefully this part isn't too blunt, but I was considering the state that Yevon might be in, not to mention the effects his actions would have on the Final Aeon itself.

My idea was that immediately after the destruction of Sin, Yevon would be a practically mindless entity with only enough life and thought to devote to rebuilding Sin. Once Sin is complete, though, a lot of his 'resources', as it were, would free up, letting him grow somewhat closer to sentience and consciousness. A similar effect would be had on the Aeon itself, since in the beginning of the cycle, its power would be heavily drained because of the reconstruction of Sin, while later, it would only be used to power Sin's movements.

Not that this is particularly important, but it was fun to think about. >_>))

Consciousness returns again. So... slowly. Power oscillates. One moment, he is in control. The next, I awaken, but my task is complete for the moment, and I have no duty but to myself... to remain. To remain, and to remember. Sometimes I wonder... What has the world become? What have I become? What have I done to... everything? But I know the answer to all of those questions. Bevelle was my enemy, and I have made all the world into a single faction, unified... together. That alone justifies me. Beyond that, everything is sophistry.

I see you.

Ah. He maintains a self-awareness. The cycle is not yet nearing its end, then?

You speak of the pilgrimage? The most promising summoners are all in the vicinity of Guadosalam. Some have passed it, some have yet to reach it. One is in Bevelle, but he will not be leaving for some time. He is a strange one. Not a bad man, but strange. I do not think he will be the one, though.

Well? Have you discovered the way to defeat me yet?

Another summoner... she has a young Guardian who intrigues me. He is... different. He has become something that I do not think even you could have anticipated. And the way things are going, I think she will be the High Summoner... and he will be the Final Aeon. I can't predict what will happen then, but I plan to shape events in my favor. Short of a miracle - or a calamity - your days are numbered.

Your time is running out, enemy mine.

I can't tell if you are mocking me or if you truly respect me as an adversary.

I have no adversaries. I threw away alignments long ago. All I have now is purpose. One purpose, which I continually fulfill. You have a purpose, too, and you have fulfilled it very well these past years. It will soon come to an end, though, and then there will be another, like yourself.

Silence. The ghost felt something - a sense of subtle realization, and mild regret.

I have not gone about this in the best way, have I?

I can think of only one way you might succeed in your folly, and it may be too late now. There is yet hope, as you see it, though. Forever is a long time, after all. Even I will admit that few things are eternal, and most of those are false. Sooner or later, there will be another who sees something the rest of the world does not. Or perhaps there will be an anomaly, a mistake or an aberration in my designs. I can admit that my designs are likely far from perfect.

You haven't spoken thus in all the time I've known you, devil.

You have been sustaining me a long time, enemy mine. I have gained much strength. When the cycle reaches its peak, the wheel will turn again, and I will once again be cast into darkness, alive enough only to fulfill my purpose.

If we could have met under different circumstances...

...If such were possible, we would shake the world.

We still might. Sleep, now. I don't need you interfering with me this late in the game, when so much is at stake.

You think you understand everything?

I understand very little in terms of history, devil. But I don't need to know how this started to decide how it will end. I already know much of your nature - your history is not important to me.

And that is why you will fail, enemy mine. In all endeavours to break a cycle, men must study the past, lest it repeat itself. You seek to break a cycle when you do not even perceive it in its entirety. How can you stop it from repeating when you don't know where it began?

Be silent, devil. Your insistence that I cannot succeed is proof enough that I am close to success - if I were really so far from the truth, you would simply let me blunder my way into failure. Now, sleep, before I lose my patience.

You can't touch me as we are now. But I have no wish to agitate you further. I will sleep - though I am strong, now. I will awake again soon, when it is time for you to die.

((We do have the odd juxtaposition of the "truth" and what everybody in Spira is *supposed* to believe, eh? Which is even harder when I don't have a perfect grasp of the "truth"... What I *think* is the general opinion, is that at Zanarkand, the Summoner obtains the Final Aeon, and then uses it to kill Sin; three possibilities as to what they believe happens next.

A) The Final Aeon will destroy itself in the final attack, using all of its power to kill Sin. When the Aeon is destroyed, the trauma of losing the link to his/her Aeon will also kill the Summoner. Not likely to be believable to our party now, since (apparently) the Final Aeon is still around somewhere.

B) The Summoner attains some kind of spiritual ascension during the Final Summoning, and goes to Heaven/Nirvana/whatever works.

C) The strain/exertion/whatever of summoning the Final Aeon kills the Summoner.

Either way, they have to know/believe that something kills or incapacitates or otherwise removes the High Summoner from the game, since High Summoners never come back. And, of course, this is far from a perfect theory, so feel free to correct me if something is glaringly wrong.

On the subject of a Guardian being the Final Aeon... That was a slip-up, but it had to come up sooner or later, after all the babbling Pheos did. razz Well, so long as it doesn't get out to the general public, it shouldn't mess with canon.))

Calaman shook his head without looking up.

"He never explained some things in depth, but a lot of it was easy enough to piece together - in context, of course. There's always the possibility that all of it was bollocks, and I'll be the first to say I think he was more than capable of lying through his teeth. But there was too much there that rang true. Well, I'm sorry. Your question. I don't know what exactly is supposed to happen in Zanarkand. Too much has been thrown into doubt for me to guess at most of it. But the Final Aeon... if I'm right, then I think... It's not just another, more powerful Aeon, obtained by reaching and praying to the Fayth. This man, this... Final Aeon, said that he had been Guardian to Archa. And he said... or did he say it? I can't remember. But it was obvious from the way he spoke. He had been her lover." He sighed loudly and looked like he wanted to curse. "I don't know, maybe he just couldn't accept that Archa was gone, and that's why he thinks Yevon is evil. He never did adequately explain his beliefs about Yevon, anyway. There was always some half-hidden truth just out of grasp, and Yevon's at the core of it. Anyway... I'm rambling again. Ed... Lady Eddora."

He looked up, and tried to produce a bit of his old childish charm, if it could be called that, in a half-grin.

"I don't know the specifics. He's mad, now, that much is beyond question, and I don't know if he was always mad or if what he's become is the reason for it. But it seems Archa had to make one of her own Guardians into her Final Aeon."

~

Aer leaned against the outside of the inn. The eaves would have shielded him from the worst of the rain, were it not for the wind blowing it almost horizontally against the face of the building, and thus, Aer himself. The wind mage might have used his magic to divert the rain, if he'd been more than half-aware of it.

Thrice-damned pilgrimage.

He had almost succeeded in forgetting them. He had almost convinced himself that they didn't matter anymore, that he didn't owe them anything. Calaman's disappearance had struck an unpleasantly familiar chord, but it hadn't been the same at all. He had been able to tell himself that Calaman would return, it wasn't the same at all, he didn't need to remember anything. Leave the past in the past.

And then they'd visited the Farplane, and the silence, the emptiness of it, had brought the loss back to him. They weren't gone. They were out there, somewhere, Unsent, still drowning after all these years, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

...If they had drowned. Sin made that possibility... debatable.

Aer d'Mors, the aloof, carefree, noble, romance-minded black mage... The perfect mask had cracked in the Farplane, and Calaman, Calaman, had somehow wedged Aer's dead wife and child in between that crack and pried the mask wide open.

But it wasn't really a mask anymore, was it? He'd played the part of the well-intentioned but incurably d**k-headed nobleman for so long that it had settled about him like a second skin. What did it matter if he kept playing?

What did it matter?

What did it...?

Slowly he sank down against the wall until he was sitting in the mud, and stopped trying to tell himself that it was only rain running down his face.

~

It seemed he'd been there for a long time; he became aware, gradually, of someone standing out in the rain. A child, by his height. His eyes gleamed golden in the light from the inn's windows. Aer pushed himself to his feet and frowned.

"Boy," he called. "What are you doing out in the rain? Do your parents know where you are? Come here, in from the wet. The innkeeper will give you something to eat and you can sit by the fire and warm up."

The child came closer; he stepped under the eaves, and Aer realized then that the rain had stopped blowing around and was coming straight down, meaning it wasn't pissing down on them anymore.

"What are you doing out - "

"I heard you're in love with her," the little boy said, looking up at him. The boy was Al Bhed, or at least he looked the part. His blindingly bright blue eyes put Aer in mind of... something. He wasn't sure what.

Then the boy's words came through.

"What?" Aer said.

"The woman inside, the summoner. I heard you're in love with her."

Aer scowled. "I don't know where you came from, boy, but you shouldn't mess around in other peoples' business. Look, just go inside, will you? I'm busy angsting out here and I'd really rather be alone."

"Even if you have a chance to talk to her?" The little boy pointed out into the darkness. Aer frowned again, and squinted - and his breath hitched.

"Tierris," she said, smiling.

I had wondered why his mind was so inscrutable, someone nearby was whispering, as if they didn't know Aer could hear them. Trust a fool to ruin a foolproof plan.

"She's going to die too, you know," the woman said. "And she won't be Sent either. Calaman could help with that, but he's too stubborn to accept that Yevon's religion is a lie. Take this, Tierris, and be sure to use it before you move on to Macalania. Your Summoner will be grateful, though it won't help a bit in the long run. You could call it the fruit of my father's labors. Too bad we were never able to catch up to him, you know?"

She drew back her arm and tossed something to him; he caught it instinctively. It was a sphere, slightly bigger than his fist. His stomach turned over, memories unearthed. But he never got a chance to decide whether he wanted to argue, question, or run weeping into the apparition's arms, because that was the precise moment they both decided to vanish, and he was left standing there, a sphere of unknown purpose clutched in his hand, the rain once again blowing straight into his face.

Lightning flashed in the middle-distance, and Aer looked down at the sphere in his hand. The fruit of her father's labors? He didn't see how this could be related to the... Well. If it was anything like the ones he remembered, it could be activated by -

He barely thought it and the sphere illuminated. A powerful urge flowed through Aer, and he could feel that it came from the sphere; it made no attempt to hide its origin.

Smash it, the urge said. Smash it against the ground, the side of the building, my own skull, anything. Smash it!

Swallowing his uncertainty, Aer found a stone on the ground. He knelt, placed the sphere against the stone, raised it, and brought it down.

The sphere shattered; it must have been hollow, to break so easily and so completely. But the glass itself was no longer important. It had contained some kind of magic - a glittering path of what looked somewhat like pyreflies had risen in the mud, leading off into the shadow.

Well, the next step was obvious enough.

((Since I'm too lazy to find a good way to say it in context, Aer is now gone for the moment. He'll be back shortly, but I wanted to make sure I know what's going on when he returns, so I can do it accurately.

As a heads-up, he's going to find 'something', and then come back and be like "OMG Ed you have to come see this!"))

((Pretty much. I'll either wait a couple posts and then have him come rushing in, or he'll just come back whenever someone steps outside.

The Maesters are ALREADY crazy, lawls. xd

And since I have the opportunity, here's a hint of what's to come...))

Aer stood at the mouth of the cave, breathing heavily. He'd run... he didn't know. His stupid robes had tripped him up more than enough, so he'd had a difficult time of it, but he'd probably still sprinted at least half the way here. And now the trail of pyre-whatevers was leading him straight into the black maw of the earth. Even the cave itself was ambiguously formed, the heavy rain obscuring any clear definition of its size or shape. And he couldn't see any end to the cave, not from out here.

But still, he had seen her. He was probably mad. But then, she had been Unsent, and she had always been strong-willed, so why couldn't she be here?

He put a hand over his eyes and tried to think. Tried to think around his scattered memories.

Do I just want her to be here? Or do I really think it's worth it to see where her ghost is leading me? I hope... I hope it's really her ghost. This feels too much like one of the Fayths' tests.

~

Calaman didn't respond for a few seconds, then he nodded slowly. And just like that, something of his old fire came back into his eyes.

"This isn't your responsibility alone," he said, looking up. "We all took an oath to Yevon. If it comes to it, my Lady, I will do what's necessary, for you... for the pilgrimage."

~

The worst part of it was that Aer knew exactly what he was looking at, without ever having seen it or anything like it before. The unfairness of it struck him like a blow to the stomach. He'd spent years sailing all over Spira with her, trying to outline her father's work so they could continue it. They'd never imagined that he might have completed it before he died. But... how? Hadn't they always supposed that it couldn't be done on one's own? But... here it was, the exact thing they'd been hunting down all those years...

...uselessly.

Well, now he knew why this was going to matter to Ed. After all, she was the Summoner; he was just a Guardian, a black mage with a few demons he thought he'd escaped.

"I'll be back," he muttered into the darkness. "But then I guess you knew that already."

At this point, he only wanted to know one thing: What are you dreaming about?

The trail of lights was gone, but somehow, the trek back to the inn didn't seem so long. He'd taken care to memorize a few landmarks on the way back, so he was reasonably confident he could find the cave again. Probably. Unfortunately, Eddora was already standing outside the inn when he came in sight of it. She looked... pretty pissed.

"Lady Ed," he called when he was pretty sure he'd be visible even through the rain. I hope she's mad about what I think she's mad about. Otherwise I'll sound like an idiot. Well, the way things turned out, I don't think I can avoid sounding like an idiot. "Lady Ed..."

Now that he thought about it with a somewhat clear mind, he realized that he'd sound either highly suspicious, or outright mad, if he asked her to follow him to a cave on the Thunder Plains because he'd found something that he couldn't explain unless she saw it.

Especially given her apparent mood. Best to take it in stages.

"I'm sorry, Eddora," he said as he came up under the eaves. "I wasn't trying to deceive you or anybody. I did have a wife and a boy a long time ago, but that was a long time ago. I just wanted to forget some painful memories. You can understand that, can't you?"

Aer's jaw was hanging slightly open, and it was several seconds before he recognized the bizarre feeling that flooded his body.

He wanted to hit her.

He'd come all this way for her, and yet now he genuinely wanted to hit her. No, that was a lie. Partially, yes, he had done this for her, but more realistically, it had been his own way of proving to himself that - what? What was there to prove? Maybe that he'd moved on. Clearly he'd been wrong, though.

"She's been dead for..." he realized he couldn't be heard over the rain, raised his voice. "She's been dead for ten years. Since the beginning of the last pilgrimage. I didn't leave her. She died at sea. We sailed around for some years, trying to piece together something her father had been working on. He was some kind of adventurer; I never met him. Then Sin came back. It trashed our ship. Its spawn took her, and - and I never saw Ku..."

Oh, no. Oh, no, no. The baby's name brought back no memories, but the emotions were crippling. He closed his eyes; tried to fight it - and then stopped. It didn't have to be so difficult. He would just go. Either she would follow him, and see for herself; he could explain, and she had to understand. Or she could let him go. He didn't think she would, but if she did... well, this journey was a farce on his part anyway, so what did it matter?

Without another word, he turned away from her and walked into the rain.