With what, claiming I died of my heart failing? I don't see how that's so unbelievable.
[He shrugs a little himself, adjusting how he's sitting to pull one knee up casually into an upright bent position, comfortable to wrap his arms around.]
Of course, there are certain parts of the tale that I left out. But fundamentally that is what did me in.
Well, Archon Nav, you recall what my own mastery is in, correct? Not exactly the sort of thing one seeks to be forthcoming about in an environment where we're accusing each other of murders every few days — if one has even a lick of common sense, that is.
[Not that it matters much now, and not that it would matter much anyway, when Gideon's already proven she'd decry evidence that pointed to him for the sake of running interference.]
There's a technique I've developed that's what you might think of as the pinnacle of that realm of expertise. A sort of perfect concealment. I do it by suppressing my own vital signs — no heartbeat, no aether movement, nothing. And then I hold it for as long as I need to.
[He shrugs again; it's less cavalier this time.]
The strain it puts on my body is immense. But one's body is just another weapon to be drawn in a fight, and so I used it as I would any other weapon: to win, whatever the cost. Any weapon breaks eventually, if it's overused and not treated with care. And that's something I've never been very good at — treating myself with care.
[oh - she almost doesn't hear the rest of it because archon nav gets her attention so sharply that she nearly startles with it. her lips twitch at the sound of it. the title makes her chest tight and her heartbeat skip a bit.
but she tunes in enough to hear him explain.
and this time, her expression is a little disapproving.]
If I had cup of coffee for every time one of you scolded me for being reckless before revealing to me that you stopped your own fucking heartbeat or jumped off a cliff or whatever, I'd be so wired I'd be able to see God.
[grumbles.]
Nice technique. Maybe don't do it again. If you die because you shut your own body off after all of this I'll scream.
Why do you think I scold you as often as I do? I don't want you to repeat my mistakes.
[His expression softens. Fond, amidst the well-deserved chastisement.]
I've now learned the hard way that every time I demand more of myself in the present, the balance comes off of my future. It was always only a matter of time before my body gave out on me; I'm just a very lucky gambler in that I managed to finish the things I needed to before it did.
But you have a terrible tendency of hearing that I did something and taking it as permission, rather than as the warning you should. I told you no one has the right to hurt you, that you shouldn't just accept harm to yourself as a natural consequence of accomplishing your aims. Did you think you yourself were exempted from that?
[she watches him for a second, like she's absorbing that - she does this every so often, where you can practically see when she's hearing things and filing them away for later. sometimes it's stupid shit like a dumb joke she wants to repeat, or sometimes it's more like this, life lessons or advice.
at least she's listening.]
I never really thought about it. [she answers honestly. in fact she usually doesn't. thinking before she acts is not a thing gideon nav does. but... if she had, yeah. she wouldn't have included herself in it.
firmly, though, earnestly, because it comes from desperately and wildly caring about the people she loves:]
My point is you can't lecture my ass and turn around and fuck yourself up. It is permission, at that point. Not that I need it from you or anything.
I'll take it as a warning if you take your own damn advice, Waters.
Oh, I know full well. You've never needed my permission for anything; you've only wanted my approval.
[Which is another whole topic in and of itself, probably, but he's going to be good and not derail their conversation with that, when Gideon is making a point worth staying on.]
You're right, though. I do need to start taking my own advice — and about more than just the harm I dole out onto myself. I need to start working out what it is I want to be, once I'm no longer a Scion of the Seventh Dawn.
[she does in fact make a nyeh face at the first part because she hates it when he just points that out but it's not... untrue. and she minds it less, these days.]
You've got options. [she says, finally, peering at him.] You know if I'm able, whatever decisions you make I'll stand with you.
One of my comrades once did something similar — artificially extended his own lifespan to the tune of a few hundred years. He did it for love, and it took its toll on him. I don't doubt it would take one on me, as well.
But I wonder. Bixing expects to live a few hundred years himself, and he doesn't seem worse off for it. And there are races on Eorzea for whom that span is natural. Elezen have long lives, and so do Viera. So it's not as though I'd be without company.
If you want it, that's up to you. [...] Bixing is not a good example of this, Waters, the guy is on a string. He's more willing to throw himself on a sword than anybody I've ever met, based on like, one thing.
[... she reaches for him, putting a hand on his arm.]
If someone asked me, I wouldn't. Even if it were you, or Bixing, or Harrow. All I've got in the end is me, and I'll decide when I die.
But if I thought there was something worth it, if I wanted more time to do the boring shit I want to do, I'd consider it.
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Kind of reminds me of Harrowhark. If she can't scowl or necro something she loses her mind. Bet I could make him hate me in five minutes or less.
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she lets that sit for a second, and then:]
I'd tag along with you, too. Whatever you're up to, after all this.
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[My, how the turntables have.]
I'm not certain, truthfully. Particularly not with my heart the way it is.
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[she leans forward a bit.]
You know, I always thought you were pulling my leg with that.
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[He shrugs a little himself, adjusting how he's sitting to pull one knee up casually into an upright bent position, comfortable to wrap his arms around.]
Of course, there are certain parts of the tale that I left out. But fundamentally that is what did me in.
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I thought it wasn't the whole story - which look, I was right. [...] Tell me about it? You've seen the gory details of mine.
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[Not that it matters much now, and not that it would matter much anyway, when Gideon's already proven she'd decry evidence that pointed to him for the sake of running interference.]
There's a technique I've developed that's what you might think of as the pinnacle of that realm of expertise. A sort of perfect concealment. I do it by suppressing my own vital signs — no heartbeat, no aether movement, nothing. And then I hold it for as long as I need to.
[He shrugs again; it's less cavalier this time.]
The strain it puts on my body is immense. But one's body is just another weapon to be drawn in a fight, and so I used it as I would any other weapon: to win, whatever the cost. Any weapon breaks eventually, if it's overused and not treated with care. And that's something I've never been very good at — treating myself with care.
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but she tunes in enough to hear him explain.
and this time, her expression is a little disapproving.]
If I had cup of coffee for every time one of you scolded me for being reckless before revealing to me that you stopped your own fucking heartbeat or jumped off a cliff or whatever, I'd be so wired I'd be able to see God.
[grumbles.]
Nice technique. Maybe don't do it again. If you die because you shut your own body off after all of this I'll scream.
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[His expression softens. Fond, amidst the well-deserved chastisement.]
I've now learned the hard way that every time I demand more of myself in the present, the balance comes off of my future. It was always only a matter of time before my body gave out on me; I'm just a very lucky gambler in that I managed to finish the things I needed to before it did.
But you have a terrible tendency of hearing that I did something and taking it as permission, rather than as the warning you should. I told you no one has the right to hurt you, that you shouldn't just accept harm to yourself as a natural consequence of accomplishing your aims. Did you think you yourself were exempted from that?
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at least she's listening.]
I never really thought about it. [she answers honestly. in fact she usually doesn't. thinking before she acts is not a thing gideon nav does. but... if she had, yeah. she wouldn't have included herself in it.
firmly, though, earnestly, because it comes from desperately and wildly caring about the people she loves:]
My point is you can't lecture my ass and turn around and fuck yourself up. It is permission, at that point. Not that I need it from you or anything.
I'll take it as a warning if you take your own damn advice, Waters.
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[Which is another whole topic in and of itself, probably, but he's going to be good and not derail their conversation with that, when Gideon is making a point worth staying on.]
You're right, though. I do need to start taking my own advice — and about more than just the harm I dole out onto myself. I need to start working out what it is I want to be, once I'm no longer a Scion of the Seventh Dawn.
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You've got options. [she says, finally, peering at him.] You know if I'm able, whatever decisions you make I'll stand with you.
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Ryn wants me to have my lifespan extended to some two or three hundred years. What do you think about that?
[He asks for her advice.]
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... Do you want that? [she asks, frowning a little.] If it were me, I'd say no. Doesn't matter who asked.
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[He reflects on that another minute.]
One of my comrades once did something similar — artificially extended his own lifespan to the tune of a few hundred years. He did it for love, and it took its toll on him. I don't doubt it would take one on me, as well.
But I wonder. Bixing expects to live a few hundred years himself, and he doesn't seem worse off for it. And there are races on Eorzea for whom that span is natural. Elezen have long lives, and so do Viera. So it's not as though I'd be without company.
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If you want it, that's up to you. [...] Bixing is not a good example of this, Waters, the guy is on a string. He's more willing to throw himself on a sword than anybody I've ever met, based on like, one thing.
[... she reaches for him, putting a hand on his arm.]
If someone asked me, I wouldn't. Even if it were you, or Bixing, or Harrow. All I've got in the end is me, and I'll decide when I die.
But if I thought there was something worth it, if I wanted more time to do the boring shit I want to do, I'd consider it.