Private Tales Straighten Out Your Soul

[Atem]

Atem was silent for several moments as the shoulders he laid draped over passed under arched doorframe and through empty hall. The silence wasn't at all unusual for the soul. Even in life, he hadn't been a man that tended towards initiating idle chatter, though he would politely participate when invited. And then following his recreation... he had been almost entirely mute for most of the first year. Grasping existence had been a struggle. Over the past half decade, however, he had slowly been coming out of his shell and deciding that his thoughts were worth sharing, and that conversation with the man whose shoulders he sat on was usually worthwhile.

So he did eventually speak, in the way that he did that tickled at minds and invaded the space that was usually only home to one's inner monologue. "They aren't a very fun bunch lately..." The subdued voice thrummed, referring to the meeting they had just left.

"They are nervous. Irritable... Impatient." It helped him to lay out his observations, to try to make sense of people. Empathy was something he had excelled at in life. In rebirth, he was still rediscovering it, but there were certainly hints that it was buried there. "They are still frightened, perhaps... I suppose it is hard to blame them, but... they are not going to make your life any easier, Demias."

There was that hint of concern from the scarf. It was a flittery, hesitant feeling, as if it were a bird uncertain where to land. A person might have placed a hand on a shoulder, or gently touched an elbow.

Pandemonium was the governing body of Elbion. Nobody was quite certain where they stood, but the fact of the matter remained that life had to continue on. Repairs had to be made, resources had to be imported, people had to be organized, and the handful of people left capable of managing any of those tasks were frazzled and struggling to even properly communicate with one another. At least, that was how it looked to Atem.

The scarf was half tempted to convince Demias to take his family and abandon ship. It did feel like, for a moment, he wanted to say more on the matter, but then after a spell of tension he fell silent once more.

Demias Elbion

 

[Demias Elbion]

The great domed building that housed the Community Hall and Merchant's Council body was still under repair, reflective of the state of Elbion as a whole. The recovery of the city was taking much longer than anticipated and, naturally, it created unrest and mistrust in the community. So many were waiting on the recovery of the residential district and the reconstruction of their homes. Many more were unable to get their businesses going again thanks in no small part to the total obliteration of the Merchant's district.

Many more were feeling jilted by the fact that the Government District had, mostly, survived intact.

All this weighed heavily on Demias and the other surviving Merchant Councilors. His suggestion to shift partial reconstruction efforts to the abandoned Doge's Manor in order to provide more housing for the displaced had not gone over well. The Doge had, most unfortunately, perished in what was now being referred to as Dragonfall or the Cataclysm. The quiet voice of his late best friend echoing through his thoughts was a small comfort indeed, but he found his mind wandering almost as much as his stride.

Pausing at the end of the hall to look out through a window, Demias winced into the sunlight and wondered if perhaps they aught to move the Council meetings out to the courtyard until the hall's windows were all repaired. Presently they were boarded up and their meeting had been held by candlelight - far too close to a vigil than he liked.

The man cast a short glance about to ensure he was yet alone with his musings before responding, "No one's life is easy right now, but ours is easier than most. The Councilors still have their homes to return to each night..." and that was a source of great slight to the citizens. Frowning, he shook his head with a sigh, "and the Doge's palace goes unused. The wastage is infuriating."

But the Council could not come to an agreement on the subject. He had not expected them to. He'd been prepared to spend several meetings convincing them to relent. But seeing the palace through the window and replaying the meeting in his mind only made him angry.

 

[Atem]

Physically unable to go out into the world and seek knowledge on his own, most of Atem's thoughts and opinions were limited to what he could pick up in the proximity of his senses, as well as Demias's own speculations and sentiments. He, of course, had come to trust Demias's ability to think critically and reason and so put a lot of weight on his take on things, but Atem could not deny the very biased basis of that way of thinking. Demias was nearly all that he knew.

Being able to attend those meetings with him, then, was no small blessing that the soul appreciated greatly. An opportunity to listen in on how other people viewed and did things. How they justified, how they reasoned, how they prioritized. It would otherwise be too easy to just assume that everyone else in the world thought the same way as the man whose shoulders he lay draped over.

"Easier than most... In some ways, perhaps." He conceded, though he knew that Demias had been struggling. He was with him a large portion of time, being the convenient accessory that he was, and speaking between minds did require some degree of openness. Honestly, he had been struggling as long as Atem had known him, and it was hard not to notice even for something with as little experience with people as Atem had. Only, Demias would never speak of it.

While any other person's emotional state might be read through body language, Atem's was more like a feeling that passed through the telepathic link of communication. Smiles were warm, fidgeting was jittery fuzz, pursed lips were tight and slightly sour. Just then, Atem was frowning. It was heavy, yet pliable, like a ball of clay.

"But that doesn't mean that your difficulty is ignorable..." The gentle reminder was added on humbly, tentatively. He wasn't even entirely certain what the intention behind his words were. It was not as if Demias was going to agree with him and throw in the towel, just give it all up and go home.

"... Is there somewhere else the funds and resources could be pulled from?" He could try to be helpful, at least, though he often felt he had very little to contribute. Thoughts and words. Opinions and ideas. He was just a scrap of cloth with far too many notions. There must have been a reason clothing was rarely asked for conjecture. "Perhaps they would be less resistant if they felt they weren't 'wasting' the finances they would rather see put elsewhere..."

"Maybe I should get a job before offering my opinion on funding..." Lastly, a hint at humor, however poor he was at it.

Demias Elbion

 

[Demias Elbion]

Demias was on the move again as the voice lilted gently through his mind. The curious sensation of a disembodied voice cutting through his thoughts had disturbed him for some time, but after several years he supposed one got accustomed to the voices in their head. It was totally natural to him now.

Almost as if his friend were still alive and well, walking alongside him in his broken down home city.

Even if his dear friend did attest that his own difficulties shouldn't be ignored, he ignored the sentiment entirely.

"There is," he replied shortly, brow set over his eyes in the same concerning pensiveness that typically preceded ideas of questionable merit, "but it would require doing something rather disagreeable with most civilized folk."

 

[Atem]

Atem had been disturbed by his very own existence for some time. Unaware of the nature of his continuation, or that he even had any reality or grip on the world previously. Contending with and conceding to sapience. His first few months had been volatile and disquieting. Terrifying, even. But Demias had been the constant that helped him reckon with himself. He wasn't quite sure if the nature of their relationship could be described as symbiotic or not, but after time it certainly started to come easily, like their existences were effortlessly woven together.

There was yet a strange familiarity he couldn't quite place. Even as he had no recollection of anything previous to his awakening, sometimes in conversation he had feelings of having been there before. A forlorn and fragmentary, inadequate sensation he couldn't place the origins of. He ached for something he couldn't remember.

Quiet and contemplative for a moment, Atem considering the implications of Demias' words. There was something oddly familiar in that moment, as well. Was he meant to gently discourage him? To goad him on? To find a more appropriate middle ground? It was perplexing to be called to do something he had no context or grounds for, and in the past years he had found it easier to simply give the man a sounding board for his own ideas.

"You haven't struck me as the sort to be afraid to be disagreeable, Demias," he at last mused. "There may be irony in offending the civilized folks in order to give them what they have been asking for... How much would they complain? Tell me what you're thinking, friend."

Demias Elbion