sageguidance | sieg catchall

[ Compared to just a few hours prior, Alphinaud both looks and feels better; between the healing, a decent bath, and a fresh set of clothing, one could almost think nothing had ever happened.

Almost. The light scarring around his eye is still there to see, but he goes about his business as normal. Currently, he's in the kitchen preparing some tea. His carbuncle, meanwhile, sprawls lazily across the floor. ]

[By now, Sieghart has a sense of what went down. When he spots Alphinaud and the carbuncle in the kitchen, he's quick to raise a hand in greeting.]

Yo. How are you feeling?

—Hm?

[ He looks up from the kettle on the stove. ]

Oh, good eve. Much better now that I've had time to clean up—and thanks to Virgo, as well.

[He nods. Virgo has a way of coming through when it matters.]

How's your eye? . . . Can you see out of it?

Miraculously, yes.

[ Given what happened to it... Alphinaud tries not to think about it. ]

'Tis sore, at worst. It will be necessary to put off reading for a few days, it seems.

A few days won't kill you.

[It's a joke, albeit a questionable one, given what Alphinaud has had to endure. In any case, stardust twinkles into view and Sieghart can only smile wryly as they make their descent, covering both of them:]

"Sieghart . . . "

Your name resounds in the frozen corridor as the icy, armored silhouette of your dearest friend stands before you. At your side, Lime exclaims, "What? Sieghart! That dead soul knows your name."

Your eyes widen in surprise. It isn't him in the flesh, but you can never forget that voice. "G-Graham?"

"Sieghart . . . my friend . . . I'm so glad you're . . . a-all right . . . "

Your entire body tenses as you recall the same words Graham uttered to you a few years ago. No matter what predicament he's in, he always worries about you first—even though you're the reason he's in this mess. His kindness is undeserved, and it twists into your heart like a knife forged from obsidian.

But Graham doesn't stop there.

"We're . . . here, because of you. You're the only reason . . . everyone is dead!"

As the result of getting carried away in battle earlier, it's just you and Lime. The rest of your companions are somewhere farther behind, still catching up. With Lime's healing magic and your prowess on the battlefield, you best "Graham" in combat once he comes swinging at you with familiar yet all too crazed techniques that you recognize from the days of when he taught you, a fledgling among the Highlanders. It's only a matter of time before you claim victory.

After you've given him a sufficient beating, he says to you, "Come . . . Join . . . us."

What a sick joke.

"Yeah," you start, darkness veiling your eyes, "I wished Graham would have blamed me for everything."

If he had, you would've taken the fault and moved accordingly to make amends, shunned thus. It only makes sense to be resented for repaying kindness with the grim reaper's scythe. But Graham didn't do that. The only thing he ever did was rejoice in your health, even when he was caught in the throes of corruption that forced the two of you to do battle. And that—knowing that he wants only for your happiness after everything you've done—is more painful than anything you've ever known in all the years you've survived the tedium of longevity.

How you wish that Graham would have blamed and cursed you for betraying him.

"But that's just my wish." Your features contort in rising anger as you bare your teeth at the insulting mimicry of your friend. "If you want to mimic Graham, you'd better do it properly!"

"Si-Sieghart . . . "

Lime's innocent compassion is wasted on you. You turn to her with a reassuring smile. "Ah, don't be sad: This Graham is fake. There's no way I'd fall for such a cheap trick." You round on the fake with a snarl. "However, if the purpose was not to deceive me with an illusion . . . but to taunt me, then I'll tell you that it was successful!"

The fake, constructed from ice and magic, suddenly melts. A dense concentration of energy gathers behind you, and you whirl around in time to see someone manifesting.

"I was hoping you would like the Mind Prison," says a sadistic voice as she gains the rest of her purple-sheened form. "But then again, I'd be very upset if you were to lose your memory."

"Kaze'aze!"

"There's an old saying that ill-fated relationships are also made for each other," she says, clearly relishing your torment now that she's present. "The Ice Prison isn't so bad, you know. It seems taking away your body instead of your memory wouldn't be a bad idea."

You snort. She can take whatever she wants, but that'll do nothing to abate your hatred toward her ilk. You step forth, seething. "Even if I lose my memory . . . Even if I lose my body! We will stop you no matter what!"

[ Again, a memory.

It's disorienting no matter how often it occurs, and this time is no different. But this time, Alphinaud gasps, recoiling back in surprise. ]

That—that's the same place as...

[Just as in the memory, Sieghart is quick to compose himself. It's a personal memory, but not one nearly as raw as the other memory that always reduces him to tears. He looks a touch peeved before he schools his expression.]

Is that where you went?

... Yes—yes, it was that very same place.

[ The timing of this. Ha. ]

I know not how, but I believe what we experienced had been caused by your memories, Sieghart.

. . . Yeah. It was. Even the me you encountered was pulled straight from them.

[ oh. ]

You have been told of our venture, then.

Just enough to piece those facts together. Souji wasn't the most forthcoming with the details.

I cannot blame him, to speak true. It was a horrendous journey.

Not wanting to talk about unpleasant things is natural. You don't have to tell me anything, either.

... If you mind not, I would prefer not to delve into the particulars. Yet we were forced to fight our way through, with—varying degrees of success.

You made it back, didn't you? I'd consider that a success.

Somehow.

'Tis only because we were able to return upon death—or... what counts as death in our current state.

. . . You've had to endure a lot since you got here. Sorry—for adding to your hardship.

You needn't apologize—it is by no fault of your own. I am more than willing to blame such events on our ever so gracious host.

. . . Of course.

[If not for the host, they wouldn't be here in the first place.]

There are more of us now, so take it easy next week.

Worry not—in a few days time, I shall feel as hale and whole as ever.

[ With the water done boiling in the kettle, he goes to pour some in a cup. ]

I... did have a question, if you mind not my asking.

[Sieghart watches him, arms folded.]

Hm? What is it?

What was that place?

[ He can make a guess, but... ]

That place? . . . Oh, the Ice Prison?

It doesn't exist anymore, but it wasn't that different from the daycare or this mansion. It was a mock afterlife where dead souls were deprived of their bodies. That's why the false imitation of Graham melted at the end.

... I see.

[ Graham. He remembers that name. ]

If they were but an imitation, then... Yes. It certainly does give more context to what we had experienced ourselves.

sieg catchall

w3; sunday

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