635/Memento Mizukori

Memento Mizukori
Date of Scene:	20 September 2014
Location:	A Quiet World
Synopsis:	Faruja becomes the first visitor to Mizuki's shack, and the pair have a little chat. Surprisingly, talk of GODS and TIME and DEATH ensues. wait that's not surprising at all dafuq, i feel so robbed
Cast of Characters:	152, 183

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Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Even though he's never been here before, Faruja would likely have an easier time finding his way to the location that Mizuki has sent to him than he would other places. And most certainly an easier time staying: this area lacks that characteristic air of wrongness that he usually feels in her home. But that's probably because this isn't even -in- her world, but rather revolving around it! From here, he would be able to see the swirling purple sphere that he usually does when emerging from the warp gate not too far in the distance. Oh, but wait, I think I forgot to mention something important. Hang on, it will come to me... oh! Yes.

    You're in space!

    As in, floating in it with no protection whatsoever. Despite this, though, the nezumi would find that he can breathe just fine. But since the description says the rest, now enters Mizuki from the inside of her decidedly humble home, walking along the path of bricks to greet her approaching friend with a bow, and a smile. "Good evening, Faruja. And thank you so much for coming." She gestures back. "Come, come. There is some tea waiting for us inside. We could certainly drink it out here, though! Feel free to tell me if you prefer that alternative." With a faint widening of her grin, she walks away for a brief moment to set the needle of the phonograph to a record, and set it playing. Then a song would quietly begin to play, reverberating far, far into the space around them.

    (That song, incidentally, would sound an awful lot like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SKeigbx9tLA)

Faruja (152) has posed:
When Faruja arrives? At first there's an air of relief. Really, he loves Mizuki to death, but her abode simply grinds against all he finds to be Righteous, True, and Just. Changing the fabric of reality belongs solely to Faram...and those he blesses particularly, of course.

That relief doesn't last long though. HE'S IN SPACE! Floating, flailing, and letting out an embarrassingly girly squeak, Faruja only clams down when he realizes he can breath.

"...Can this bloody world /ever/ not be a den of Heresy!?" Grrrr. Faruja takes a moment to calm himself with prayer and a good swig of whiskey. Ahhh.

Luckily, the unique properties of where Mizuki calls home, and his occupation make the stone steps towards that little speck of rock upon which her little shack dwells makes movement trivial. Arriving with a swift teleport, he uses the rush of space-bending energies to set his hair nice and in place, and his robes in a dramatic sway. A good trick to use against nobles, and those with a love for style. Flowing robes and long ponytail swaying upon those unseen winds, Faruja stops to wrap his knuckles against the front door.

Or at least he would, if Mizuki hadn't met him at the door, the male paused in one of those awkward pre-door-knock poses. Ahem. He draws back his hand, moves aside, and reaches over to hold the door for Mizuki until she's properly exited. Never let it be said that Faruja forgets knightly virtues.

A bow right back, and a smile. "Lady Mizuki, the pleasure of this meeting is entirely mine own! That ye wouldst grace me with thine presence and hospitality is a boon. Ye art ever good company, and offer.../interesting/ viewpoints." Faruja barely stops himself from slipping 'Heretical' in there.

Faruja brightens even more, ears givin the most adorable little wiggle. "/Come/ now, mine dear! Bribery shall get ye bloody everywhere!" He teases, relaxing just slightly.

"I admit, the landscape outside is...curious. It shall more than suffice, mine dear! Ahh, a phonograph? Faram be praised, someone with taste. As expected."

Time to follow the Mizuki to help gather tea, complete with door holding.

"How fare ye, mine dear?" Ther hint of worry is still lingering. To say he's been concerned since Anor Londo's events has been an understatement.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki isn't phased to see him right on the other side of the door, apparently! She just sticks her hands back in her pockets and gives a gentle yet somehow eerie smile, narrowing her eyes juuusstt a bit. "A den of heresy, he says." Oh, shit. She heard that? She doesn't seem upset, though, immediately waving her hand to preempt any substantial worry from her visitor. "Not that I mind your saying so. In fact, comments like that are precisely what I strive for." Her smirk is undying. "As well as interesting viewpoints, of course. It is the mission of the philosophical and the authorial to try to impart thoughts of a more broad scope on to their visitors, naturally."

    "But I must insist that at least some of the pleasure is mine." She folds her arms. "For the longest time, no visitors whatsoever graced my home. Now, I am beset on all sides by warmth and affection offered by gracious souls such as yourself." She bows her head slightly. "And that is something to be celebrated indeed. But! No reason whatsoever to tarry while refreshments await us, yes?" So she reaches for the door, only to have the gentlerat grab the knob before she can, standing aside and inviting her to enter first. At that, she raises an eyebrow, and giggles. "Will it, now? I hope that isn't true of you with just anyone, lest I find out that some corruption plagues the Church of Glabados." She giggles. "But some degree of deviation from the rules is occasionally necessary, for friends. That I am certain that your God can abide." With that, she steps inside, giving him a nod once she does to signify that he may follow her at his leisure.

    And once the door slides shut, she plops on to the room's couch, folding her hands in her lap. Her eyes widen a bit at the mention of the phonograph. "Well, naturally! The things are some of the finest inventions ever to grace Creation, and easily some of the most aesthetically pleasing. It would be a terrible shame for me not to have one." But at his final words, and the undertone of concern, her expression finally stabilizes. She sighs, allowing herself a sip from a teacup left on the coffee table beside her before replying.

    "I have been well, but I detect a hint of worry in your words." She tilts her head slightly. "... pertaining to the happenings in Anor Londo, I take it?" She pauses a moment for some indication of her correctness, and when it is inevitably given, she would wave her hand. "Never you mind about that. I say now as I said then: t'was a learning experience, and one I needed very much to have. I..." She pauses a moment, her eyes blinking a few times. "... I cannot be phased by such things. I am an author who has witnessed death countless times. Besides, that was not death, but a very poor mimic of it; while death involves some degree of mental anguish, that was but physical pain." She shakes her head. "And that, I can endure." Being the diplomat that he is, though, Faruja would certainly notice something off in her words. Something so subtle that it would take an experienced and versed communicator to notice, but very real nonetheless.

    She tries to move the conversation along, however, gesturing to the same table that she had retrieved her teacup from. "Please, help yourself! I certainly would not want Callia's hard work to go to waste. And perhaps when we have finished, I can show you where I often go to read, and the constellations I have located whilst meditating here..."

Faruja (152) has posed:
...Woops. Faruja has the decency to blush, even /if/ he can't quite gather enough wits to make it look like he didn't mean it. No, he'd rather not be dishonest with Mizuki unless doing so would get her skewered. Once has already put the fear of Faram into the rat, after all. And the ratpriest can't help but love his friends wholly. Better or for worse, the male embodies several Ajoran traits expected of a faithful adherent to the religion a little too well.

Squint! Here, Faruja's muzzle opens wide.

"Mine dear, ye art a mischievious Lady, ye know that? Just...dear Lord in heaven, why must ye test me so? Refrain from such comments in Ivalice? I hath quite enough paperwork as it stands." A phrase said to his companions far too often.

"...Broad scope, hmm? Well, I wouldst like to say ye hath the market cornered upon that subject, however, 'twould be untrue. Instead, I shall simply state that never hath I met someone more infuriating and yet charming. I /quail/ to think of what ye wouldst get up to were ye born an Ivalician." The thought seems to honestly scare him a bit. Images of Mizuki in chains before himself...or worse, Inquisitor Cecillia...dance before his mind's eye.

He swiftly crosses his chest. Faram preserve him, /and/ her.

Speaking of charming, the rat shows his weakness to kind words. Honeyed tongues work wonders, and the rat's previous mood shifts back to his pleasant tones when speaking with Mizuki. No, Mimi, he can't stay mad at you. It's like having a very, very intelligent sister. Older or younger, it's hard to pinpoint at times.

Faruja looks about, paranoia perhaps plain to Mizuki. Faruja might hide it well, but a woman such as her and her senses might no doubt pick up on it. Seems years of working in the Inquisition has caused the rat to expect eyes and ears everywhere.

His voice drops to a whisper. HIs smile remains, even if his eye doesn't show it.

"We art a mortal organization, as any other. Bribery happens. 'Tis why the Inquisition exists: to investigate, hunt, and judge those whom hath committed crimes against Church, Faram, and those within whom stray. Merely a touch more faithful than most, and more willing to work towards the common good despite the politics and /rot/ festering within mine homeland." Should Mizuki have looked into his politics? Anti-nobility sentiment runs strong within Faruja, and much of the Church. Ivalice is well known for cut-throat politics, and suffering common-borne.

Faruja prays inwardly that the more dangerous corruption in the Church ins't known to her.

Smiling, he nods towards the phonograph. "Better than any magitek device that these so-called 'modern' worlds use.'

Then, Faruja /listens/. Silent for some time, he finally offers a deep, deep frown.

"Offer me thine hand, please, Mizuki." His voice is even, uncharacteristically so. She's clearly said something here.

Should she offer her hand? In a flash, Faruja has drawn something, and cracks it over her knuckles should she not stop him. It happens to be a wooden eraser.

"Doth not lie to an Inquisitor, nor a Priest! 'Tis utterly unsightly coming from a woman of thine good graces. Let that be a reminder."

Huffing, His face softens. "I am thine friend, am I not, Mizuki? Author, mystery, or nay, 'tis mine duty as Priest and friend to offer mine ear, free of judgement or hatred for thine feelings. I wish to /help/ thee. Nay matter what ye art, a poor imitation or nay, it hath effected ye. I am only half blind, ye know?" There's a small smile, and a wink.

"Ye may endure. Or else ye shall hold tight thine feelings, and never loose them. Madness that way lies. And ye wouldst make a poor madwoman."

Smile. "Tea wouldst be lovely. We shall view them. After ye tell me everything." There's a hint of authority to his voice here. Seems even his friends aren't immune to Inquisitor Voice.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Her hand? Honestly, she hesitates a moment; contact via experience and word is one thing, but physical contact is something that she is quite unused to. Eventually, though, she lays her hand in his, her expression a bit more conflicted than the inquisitor might've been expecting. But next she raises her gaze, he's... preaching again. Preaching in a way that's impassioned enough to defy even his norm.

    So, she yields to that spirit, and listens without another word. That is, until he finishes. The word 'madwoman' seems to garner an impressive reaction comparatively, as a smile builds on her face, culminating in a long, long laugh once he has said his last. This lasts for a while until it decays into something more... sober. She lowers the cup of tea to her lap and brushes some hair out of her face, keeping her eyes closed for a spell before addressing him again. Her words are more quiet and reserved, now, free of a usual element that he might not be able to place.

    "... ah, but I already am a madwoman, you know. Just a deceptively lucid one." She sets the cup aside, resting her head on the back of the couch and looking at him. "But there is truth in what you say. You are my friend, and true friends are not a thing I often come across. And I have not been entirely truthful; where under normal circumstances I only tell lies of omission, this night I have said something more..." She bites her lip a moment. "... insipid." She lets that word echo forth and bounce across the walls, and eventually in to the ears of the nezumi. "You see, I..." She closes her eyes another moment, and sighs. "I cannot find a proper way to parse this, so indulge me a small anecdote, if you will."

    Clearly rhetorical, because she talks on without awaiting a reply. "A week or so ago, I was talking with Mister Psyber. I told him then that I wanted to know suffering, so that I might better understand him, those like him, and the world in which we dwell. It is my mission to understand all that I can; to consume all history, and all perspective, so that I may be able to craft a true utopia. Understand the might-be, so that when the day comes that our world knows peace, that new metropolis we found on the ruins of the past will be one worth living in."

    She fidgets slightly. "You see..." And shifts. Right now, the little sister vibe is strong within her. "... I am much more human than I let on. As such, I never really was able to outgrow the need for higher purpose." She breaks eye contact a moment, looking out of a window. "And I know so many of you feel the same. Take this as no affront to your faith, Faruja, but listen: I believe that heaven is not a place, but a state of mind. As such, I pursue not a better 'place', but a better 'mind'; an ideal individual that can not feel things akin to boredom, but are nonetheless compelled to innovate. So much of what I do, and try to learn, is dedicated to that lofty goal. Indeed, this world is an ark that holds all of that which I have been able to record in my lifetime. All of the sorrow, the joy, the tranquility..."

    She shakes her head. "But forgive me -- I am rambling. How, then, does this relate to my feelings regarding my 'death'? Well." She allows for a pause. "I felt fear. Fear inspired by a lack of control I am quite unused to, but also from the sheer pain. I am not immune to it, unfortunately, but at the same time, that aids me in my goal. My feelings on this are... complex. The human side of me feels fractured, small, useless, and weak, while the more rationale side of me feels that I have learned something very crucial. That I have crossed some boundary in my understanding, and may now have a better chance of theorizing on the ideal mind, and perhaps even helping others when my capricious ego feels so inclined."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    She stands. "... but that does not take away the flashes of horror. And it does not extricate me from the nightmares." She slowly makes her way over to Faruja, and looks at him a moment "A-And if you truly are my friend..." She hesitates a moment.

And then she hugs him. Tight.

If he's paying attention, he might even feel the warmth of a tear.

    "... then I don't need to play pretend with you all of the time." She releases him from the hug, and takes a step back. She's wearing her usual dress again, and her eyes have widened from their state of perpetual, catlike narrowing. And did her voice sound different, too? Lighter, somehow; girlish rather than refined. It's beyond surreal. "A lot of what I say is genuine. The big words, the dreams, the... everything..." She brushes away a tear with her hand. "... but even more of it is just something do for attention. If I'm mysterious, I feel like people will notice me more; like they'll think there's some big secret that I'm hiding, and that will compel them to pursue conversation with me." Her face contorts a bit.

    "... but you're not allowed to tell anyone that, okay? To everyone else, I'm still the intimidating deity." Her frown deepens a bit. "... okay?" Her smile slowly begins to return after that, and she hides her expression with a sleeve. As is customary. So customary, in fact, that it might snap him out of any trance her earlier behavior might have inspired.

    "Besides, that aspect of my self is every bit as genuine. All I want is for no one to know that anything lies beyond it, really."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja's eye is gentle, by now, the simple look of one friend to another. True to his word, the nezumi manages to toss aside all of the mountain's worth of baggage he possesses to be a real friend to Mizuki. She's been provocative and /good/ to him. Time to make good on what he owes.

"Take as much time as ye need, mine dear. Here? We hath all the time in the world, and beyond, doth we not?" Smirk. Just the lightest of smiles to keep her afloat the sea of emotions she's no doubt feeling.

Then Faruja is quiet. Not a word passes, ears only folding back slightly.

At the end, it's an almost stoic face the nezumi has. Not out of any sort of judgement or insult. Simply, trying to reign in his own feelings so he can support the woman.

Faruja might break that image by returning the hug just as tightly, utterly without shame for a moment, and he makes a perfect tilt of the head and swipe of a hand to remove his own tears. Being a diplomat, and having only a single natural eye to work with makes many things a lot easier.

Still, he takes a moment further to speak. Surreal or not with her voice, Faruja openly gazes upon Mizuki warmly. Truly, now more than ever, he can't help but regard her amongst the tight circle of friends and new family he's found.

"Utopia, is it? A lofty goal. Well. I shall spare ye sermons and other such moralizations. That may come later. Bluntly? 'Tis irrelevent at the moment." A dismissive hand. Such high-minded things mean nothing against Mizuki's emotions.

"Ye art something, mayhaps, more than mineself. More than 'mortal'. And yet, ye art as complex as mineself, full of flaws, fears, and the masks we wear amidst others. Ye fear the end of thine life. Ye fear pain. And yet ye attempt to /learn/ from all that ye experience. To emphasize with we 'mortals'. Good on ye, as mine Father wouldst say."

A single digit rises. "Doth not the author require knowledge of her subjects? Doth not the playwright, all emcompassing experience of emotion that they may portray it? If ye wish to change thine world, by all means, do so. Continue thine path. Be the wonderful, mysterious, omissive woman I hath come to know, and love as friend...and mayhaps even /family/."

"/Grow/, Mizuki. Watch. Learn. Become greater than ye are now. Greater than a person lost amidst a realm of her own devising. Become attached to we fleeting sparks of life granted by God. And more than anything? Hold our memories when we meager flames wink out." A wink here. Faruja's well aware of his own mortality. He trusts Mizuki to carry on, when his life inevitably ends.

Then, he too laughs.

Faruja rubs his face. Her sudden switch of expression is a bit jarring, and his tail flicks, and squeezes the nearby chair. The fluidity of good Mizuki is almost frightening. And yet, endearing.

"Bloody right. I am a /priest/, and a friend. Thine secrets of this day, and whenever yet require, art safe. Between mineself, Holy Faram, and thee. None other, even shouldst I be subjected to the foulest of tortures, and mine mind split open, God shall see we both through. On mine oaths as Knight, Priest, Inquisitor, Nezumi, and Friend." Here, ever the lover of formalities, Faruja kneels and places a hand upon the cross at his neck. A solemn vow to his dear friend.

Then, he stands, and all but collapses into a seat. Siiip. That tea is devoured with far too little appreciation, and too much need to quench his throat after his speech. Mortal throats need that sort of thing.

"I hath heard naught but thine talk of the weather." Smile! Mizuki's secrets are safe with him.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Then, a hand reaches forth, and attempts to ruffle Mizuki's hair most horridly. "Terror, and fear of death, mine dear is most natural. And given we both oft end in harm's way, quite natural. By all means. Be frightened of death. Doth ye think mineself free of such fear, when every bullet, blade, and spell doth desire to tear mine body and soul away from this mortal plane? That ye still feel such fear and pain merely means that ye art not yet so lost amidst insanity that ye art reduced to a mere beast. Bravery, as they say, is in the conquering of fear rather than submitting to it. /That/ is what it means to be a mortal."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    And, yet more laughing. Mizuki rubs away the remainder of her tears as she giggles with the nezumi, looking up to him eventually when she has assumed better control of her thoughts. "You make it all sound so /noble/." She smiles at him through her bangs. "It isn't, really. I just want a world in which I need not feel so disconnected from everything. My existentialism is a plague from which there is no release, and..." She stops. And stares.

    'Hold our memories when we meager flames wink out'.

    "N-No!!" Mizuki delivers an earth shattering cry, and a fervent shake of her head. "No, no, NO! For too many centuries have I watched my friends grow, learn, and fly away from me! The only consistent company I have had throughout it all has been Fenestra, Callia, and Palora! The rest of my world, it... it..." She shakes her head, fists clenched. "Have you ever had an imaginary friend? Have you ever had a person that was listening to, but that you -knew- was just parroting your speech to act like they understood your words? Have you??" Her breathing is quick and labored. "... -true- insanity lies there: talking to yourself for centuries. Knowing only aspects of your own mind that repeat your own words, over and over and over again..." Again, the tears start to flow, and she embraces him again.

    "Don't go." She shakes her head. "Don't ever go. Stay with me, and let us -make- the place the ashes of man scatter to. Let us abolish the concept of death, and meet with your God so that we may enjoy tea with him as we do with --" Her eyes grow wide, and she shakes her head furiously. "W-Wait! I'm sorry! I don't mean to insult your God, really! But whatever his plan may be, surely it can afford to allow us our happiness? Our little corner of the world to live in and enjoy, once we've outgrown the childish mortal need for excitement...?" She stares at him earnestly a few moments with glistening eyes before averting her gaze. Quietly, she adds another 'I'm sorry.'

    "... but it means much to know that, in the short time that I have known you, I have found such a large place in your heart." Her expression softens, and she bows her head with a smile. "Thank you. You hold quite the same place in mine, you know. Suffice it to say, you're like the brother that I never had." Then he goes on to swear to defend her secrets, and her grin grows wider as her eyes begin to glisten. "Thank you..." She murmurs again, clenching her hands together at her chest and closing her eyes. She's... squirming, and blushing, and so many other things that the priest probably thought he never would, nor could, see her do. And yet, here it is, real as life, and he has been told that he is the only in the Multiverse to have ever seen it. Really, her behavior almost begs that she be ruffled, or coddled, or --

    And there he goes. A hand reaches for her head and messes her immaculate locks, and her eyes -BULGE-. She shakes her head fervently and almost jumps back, about to something pseudo-haughty before he offers even more. "Fear of death," She echoes, waiting a moment before shaking her head. "Not so much a fear of death as it is a fear that I will not find something for which to live. But... well..." She glances up to Faruja again, still somehow as radiant as she has been even though she looks so much the child.

    "... with people like you in the world, maybe I need not look so far as I'd thought. Perhaps purpose, in the end, has found me."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja rubs his head. He smiles a moment, offering a clean handkerchief for her tears.

Whatever the rat might have had on his mind, Mizuki's sudden cry utterly smashes it. He looks at the girl, utterly lost for a moment. Hands clench each other, and slowly, he sighs.

"Mizuki. I am not eternal, mine dear. So much as I wish couldst stay for ye, and Ainsley, and Adelaide, and so many others." Says the rat quietly, reluctantly. Arms squeeze around her with all the love in his heart for his dear time-sister.

Faruja's body grows briefly limp for a moment, his strength almost spent. He quivers, emotions desiring to consume him, before a squeeze of his own side near to drawing blood draws him to more sense.

"Happiness. Mayhaps. I...am as sinful as any other, Mizuki. Mayhaps moreso. But I know this much. The Lord shall give all souls their due, whether in life, or in His embrace. Shouldst ye /truly/ require mine presence for such a time beyond mine mortal flesh's time?"

Faith is a powerful thing, and Faruja has that in spades. In a single confident nod, he looks Mizuki in the eyes.

"Then whether in soul, or flesh, I shall be with ye. Enough that thine artistic spirit shall perservere the ravages of time. So doth I swear it! At risk of Heresy, that alone doth I ask of Him!" Comes the rat's voice all the stronger, gaze going upwards to the Heavens he so believes in. If nothing else, this odd, wonderful, and beautiful young Lady's desire to have a friend and family member for her duration is a simple wish that he would wager his soul upon.

Bulging eyes, and a shake of the head. Faruja /grins/ in almost childish glee. Mizuki can be cute after all.

It helps, too, that those simple words of purpose melt his soul utterly. No simple mortal words could suffice to explain the feelings it brings to him. The single look he offers her is one of love, care, and bonds beyond blood.

"Then let us live. For love, and simple urge to remain and remember of what we see. For the sake of others, and ourselves. Historians and artists alike, that our wisdom be passed to those whom come after, no matter how long that may be."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    To think that she would get such an earnest reply out of someone as pious as Faruja... Mizuki shakes her head along with his words in disbelief. She had not thought in her wildest imaginings that she would ever make so much headway on this subject, but lo and behold! Her grin grows and grows on into infinity, until at last she's almost bouncing on the balls of her heels. "Wh-When you pass, I could bring you back here!" She smiles. "That's what Callia and Palora do! They find errant souls and bring them here, so that they may live with me, and have a happy afterlife. And if doing such a thing would remove you too much from your God, I would be certain to find a way that would allow you to be close to him still." She bats her lashes. "J-Just a thought."

    That said, she lets herself nod and drift away with Faruja's final input. To live and to record that way... really, she might as well have been citing her life's motto. It's uncertain what the pair would do for the rest of the evening, but a few things can be said with relative sureness: there will be much teasing, much debating, much tea drinking, and even more stargazing. But that's all in a day's work, when you're an elite with a wield of word and time. Which both of them happen to be.

    But the next story you see will be in your dreams, won't it? That's enough activity for one night. So go, rest; next you meet, there shall be an implicit understanding of what has been said, and perhaps even the aforementioned Dragon Ball Z antics. Though I certainly don't need to remind you that if you ever hit the bottle and end up sharing any of this?

    There are not enough words that have come out of our mouths, nor enough fire in Faram's hell, to compare to the righteous indignation that will be had.

    Hmph!