Aᵁᴰᴵᴼ

[ancestor]

...Hello?

Hello. I am not supposed to be here. I am supposed to be—

[ The voice that speaks is so quiet it's nearly a whisper; quiet and lilting in a way reminiscent of whale song. Her words are cut short by a wavering intake of breath. When she speaks again it's with the fervent confusion of a person who has recently experienced something very traumatic and can't quite comprehend it. ]

I'm supposed to be... I'm dead? I'm meant to be dead. I remember it. I remember— It hurt. I remember that. It—hurts. They were all screaming. Everyone was—

All of them—

[ A small, choked sob. ]

My people.

I'm supposed to be with them.

Comments

[albatrossomen]

Your arrival here was not an act of will.

[A thoughtful sound. He doesn't have much to disagree with on that point.]

[ancestor]

I don't care what 'act' brought me here, willful or not. All I care about is dying like I was meant to. Like I deserve to.

[albatrossomen]

I suppose that decision is ultimately up to you, I would still like to suggest not acting in haste. If there is a purpose to your being here, there may yet be courses open to you not yet readily apparent.

[Hard to act when you're dead and all.]

[ancestor]

They were my purpose! I want no other!

[albatrossomen]

[Why is everyone slow? Sigh.]

And if there is an opportunity to undo what has been done?

[ancestor]

An 'opportunity', or false promise given to ensure compliance?

[albatrossomen]

Hardly. Obliteration will be awaiting you whenever you wish to grasp it. I am merely suggesting taking a step back to examine what may exist around you. None among us are natives here, only the ship themselves. Could it not be worth a single day's restraint for a chance?

[ancestor]

I should not be here.

[albatrossomen]

Yet you are.

[And if she is, is there not the most slim chance another could be as well?]

[ancestor]

I shouldn't be. I should not be here. I should not be alive. I don't deserve it. I don't want it.

[albatrossomen]

But you are.

[He's not sure what else to do here. She is alive, against all reason.]

[ancestor]

And they're not.

He's—

[ Her voice falters, broken by a damp and wavering breath. He had been all she had left in the end, even if they had ceased all contact years ago.

She speaks again; quiet, reedy, and choked with emotions she tries to keep at bay. ]

...There is no point.

[albatrossomen]

[Circular. A well of despair. He needed a different tactic.]

He?

[ancestor]

...It doesn't matter. I was dead to him long ago.

[albatrossomen]

Perhaps it would help to talk about it, all the same.

[ancestor]

What is there to talk about? He was my best friend, and then I left.

Then the world ended.

[albatrossomen]

What was his name?

[ancestor]

...Hades.

[albatrossomen]

[A thoughtful hum.]

Interesting! That that name should exist in mythology from whence I hail. Not that I am accusing you of deceit, only noting the curiosity of coincidence. He represents a god of the Underworld.

[ancestor]

[ That startles a snort of a laugh from her, sharp and bitter. ]

He had an unmatched affinity for the Underworld but he was no god. [ The way she says god is with such deep disdain—borderline hate—makes it very clear what she thinks of the idea. ] His gift of sight was so acute he could not only see souls, but discern subtle differences in the hue of each, telling individual lives apart. Hythlodaeus had even keener sight, though lacked the same affinity for the Underworld.

[albatrossomen]

[An interesting response. And likely more informed than those who would wish otherwise. Murmur isn't even considered a god but an entity whose duties tie him to one and that's enough of a pain in the ass.]

Mortals do have a tendency to be quite creative in their interpretive writings. One who could discern souls with such potency is quite likely to be deified in their literature. [It does strike him as familiar, as Emet-Selch had mentioned his ability to see souls. It was the entire reason he'd come out to speak with Murmur on the beach. However, Murmur had also promised to keep silent on his particular being and abilities.

Should he wish to make himself known, that will be up to Emet-Selch.]

Again, an interesting name though far less prestigious. I believe that name only appears in one work of fiction attached to Raphael. Raphael Hythlodaeus, dispenser of nonsense. I am uncertain if that commentary is more attached to Hythlodaeus, or Raphael.

[He'd be more amused if it were Raphael.]

[ancestor]

That the 'Hythlodaeus' you heard of is less prestigious is of no surprise—my friend always did prefer throwing us into the spotlight, grinning at us all the while.

'Dispenser of nonsense'... Hyth would have found such a title utterly delightful.

[albatrossomen]

Ah! That is pleasing to hear. Raphael would have taken the humor far less gracefully. Those who do not take themselves overly seriously are far preferable to those who do not, would you not agree?

[ancestor]

...Yes.

They are better at listening.

[albatrossomen]

Tell me more about your dispenser of nonsense?