prismatica | 001. video; un: cendre

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001. video; un: cendre

[The video opens on someone who...well, is rather clearly used to using devices such as these to address people. Cleanly centered and well-grounded, focused easily on the man sitting at the table in what looks like one of the nicer apartments available. Not as upscale as his tastes would like, but sufficient for the time being.

His accent is unmistakably French, and his words are easy when he speaks; another thing he seems practiced at.]

Fellow Moonblessed – hopefully this message finds you well, despite all the chaos currently occurring throughout Lunatia. I am Lysandre, a recent arrival from the Kalos region of the world I'm from; more to the point, I'm a scientist and inventor. I specialize in communications technology, mainly, but with regards to other disciplines... Let's say I learn quickly.

The level of technology here is slightly beyond my own world's, but I've been acquainting myself with it since my arrival; I'm interested in speaking to those who have been doing similarly.

I'm also a Pokémon trainer, though I understand that's a bit more uncommon in this place – Pokémon are our dearest companions, and as such something has struck me as odd about the creatures populating this place. Some of them seem intelligent, but the others...

[He gestures a little, vaguely, both to imply the all of that that he finds the others to be, as well as to serve as a placeholder while he figures out what he wants to say.]

They seem a little simple, and strange behind the eyes. Are all of them like that?

[...Lysandre.]

Either way... Thank you for your time, and remain well.

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I promise I wasn't sprinting down the street.

[...there may have been some power-walking involved, but. Regardless, Sycamore makes his way to the table, taking in the decor. It's certainly not at the standard that he usually associates with Lysandre, but for a newcomer it's...well. Definitely on the fancier side, which amuses him. Of course his friend would somehow manage to obtain somewhere nice - very on-brand.

He's not going to spend a great deal of time staring, however (that would be more than a little bit odd); he's promptly seated at the table, undoing the band on his watch-slash-Holocaster.]

I appreciate you looking into this for me. It will be nice to have it working again.

[Once the little device is removed, Sycamore places it neatly opposite him on the table. It feels odd, to be wearing the Lunatia bracelet and not his Holocaster, but that feeling cannot compete with the one that emerges when he thinks about the fact that said Holocaster will be worked upon by its creator.

This will be...interesting.]

How much do I owe you?

[Yes, he's well aware of the response that remark is going to get...]

Don't even consider.

[He's never let you pay for anything before, he's certainly not going to start now.

That said, he'll settle across the table from where Sycamore is seated; he'll start dismantling the watch a bit at a time, more than thankful for the distraction, for something to do with his hands.]

Mine wasn't working either when I first arrived; one of the first things I did was try to work out how to fix it. It's simple enough, it just takes some effort.

Well, the effort is appreciated. You'll have to let me buy you lunch at some point, as thanks.

[He's also well aware that it would be easier to attempt fixing the watch himself, than convincing Lysandre to let him pay for lunch, but...well, stranger things have happened, such as the fact that he now has the opportunity to have a meal with him at all. The thought makes him fall silent for a moment, as he watches Lysandre neatly taking the watch to pieces. He wouldn't trust anyone else to work on it; it's a custom design, given to him by the very man who is now dismantling it. He would rather it have stayed inoperable than trust it with anyone else.

...this really is all so surreal. It's tempting to continue along that line of conversation - fond arguments about who is paying for what - but they're off the network now. Perhaps it's best to try and...focus.]

...I'm glad to see you've settled so well.

[There is...a lot unsaid, within that sentence, but let's start gently.]

[He doesn't flinch any where he's working, though he's more than aware of everything that's going unsaid; his hands are steady, and he doesn't look up from what he's doing.]

It really isn't so bad, once you become a bit more accustomed to it. It took me some time; I needed a while to myself. But it's not terrible.

[There's a lot unsaid in there, as well. But for the time being that's... He's all right leaving it that way.]

[Sycamore is content to let the silence linger for a moment, once Lysandre is finished speaking; the soft sounds of small mechanical pieces being moved around is...soothing, in a way that he hasn't felt for a long time. Definitely not since he left Kalos, anyway.

When he eventually breaks it, it's almost regretfully.]

It was a good idea. I'm not going to say I regret the way we met here, but some of the things I said were...not ideal.

[To put it mildly.

...also, the baby dragons didn't help.]

I....

[...have a...soft sigh.]

I'm glad you wanted to see me again. It's...lovely, being here with you like this. Watching you work.

[I've missed it, but then, that doesn't really need to be vocalised, does it.]

[It doesn't.]

You were...rather upset, when we met earlier.

[...]

You don't get upset like that in front of me.

[...ah. Well, if Lysandre is keeping his focus on his hands, that's where Sycamore's eyes will settle as well. It makes all of this far simpler.]

...I know. I don't think I ever let you see me in any state other than...my usual, back in Kalos, but...

[-it really is fascinating, the way Lysandre just knows how all these fiddly little pieces fit together-]

...that was part of the problem, really. I had so many...how do I say this, dreams, I suppose, that involved you, but...I don't know, for some reason I just assumed you knew how I felt. I don't know why I never sat you down and spoke about them. I still don't.

[And now it's too late.

...

...is it?]

But I've had a lot of time to think about the many ways in which I failed you. As both a teacher and a friend.

[That actually does get him to pause for a moment, though it's brief; just long enough to let him breathe and get his bearings before continuing.]

You haven't failed me. Whatever you may not have said, I can assure you of that much.

[The compulsion to dispute that claim is strong, but Sycamore has already considered how Lysandre would respond; he's expecting - and received - the exact same answer he got when he raised those regrets in their initial meeting, so it makes no sense to keep going back and forth. What does make sense is probing deeper, taking this conversation down the logical path that Lysandre's viewpoint implies.]

...will you tell me, then?

[It makes him wish they'd just kept bantering about meals, but...this is what he wanted, isn't it? A chance to get the answers Lysandre took with him when he disappeared into that Geosenge base.]

When it all started.

...It's been a long time. Years.

[The answer is straightforward; in sharp contrast to the usual emotions that tend to require tight control, there isn't much of anything behind it. Just an answer, blunted and blank.]

You know I never would have done anything like that lightly. This isn't an exception. I just...

[The breath he draws in is tight. He doesn't stop what he's doing with his hands.]

At multiple times throughout my life, I've tried to save people. That's always been what I've wanted. For both myself and the region. To...help them, to achieve what others couldn't. It was a naive mindset. People don't often get what they want, after all.

I couldn't save anyone. From anything, really. From their own simple, filthy impulses. From their own selfish desires, from their tendencies to be people who take rather than give. From the dark future that was all I could see anymore.

I couldn't save anyone. That much has been plain to me for some time.

[...well. He asked, didn't he?

To say that hearing all of that was confronting would be...an understatement, to put it mildly. How had Lysandre felt like this for years, and yet Sycamore had never noticed it?

...

"...I want to be the kind of person who gives... But in this world, some foolish humans exist who would show their strength by taking what isn't theirs..."

...the signs had been right there, for so long, and all he'd done was ignore them, or worse; explained them away as mere passion, and buried his reservations. Deemed them unimportant.

It's like the final piece in a puzzle he's not sure he wants to complete.]

...it's not naive. To want to be a good person and help people, that's...

[It's so tempting to reach out and squeeze his friend's hands, to try and offer some form of comfort, some way of communicating things that are difficult to put into words; but that would spark Chroma, which would come with that intoxicating warmth, and the last thing either of them need is to lose clarity.

...still.]

...I...

[What do you even say, to an admission like this? I'm sorry? I forgive you? It's not all bad?

...]

...you have saved so many people, and you can't even see it, can you?

[That just gets silence for a long moment.]

It isn't enough. Whatever good I may have done, whatever I may have accomplished... It isn't enough.

Can you tell me when it would be enough?

[It's unconscious, but Sycamore's fingers start tapping against the table, as if to try and release some of the tension rapidly building in his body.]

As incredible as you are, Lysandre, you are one man. Why must you be the one to bear the world's burdens, and suffer for it?

Edited 2020-06-27 11:01 (UTC)

Because I'm willing to.

[His voice hasn't risen, but the emotional feedback behind it has; his words are becoming terse, though he's still doing his best to keep them even.]

I've always wanted what's best for the world and its future. I wanted to secure that future for it, to the best of my ability. I don't know what would have been enough, but I know that I hadn't attained it.

Then why...

[Lysandre isn't the only one trying his best to keep his emotions in check; Sycamore's hands have now curled into fists, and he can feel his nails coming close to breaking the skin of his palms.

He knew - they knew - that this discussion would be painful, but...he didn't think it would be this bad.]

...it was unfair of you to think it was your right to wipe the slate clean. That was pure ego.

[It's an ironic thing to say, really; it had always been so easy to excuse that ego as pure passion. If anything, he'd enjoyed it.]

Lysandre...I adore you, but surely you can recognise that?

Again, I have to question what it is you would like me to say.

[It's a question he had posed the first time as well; it's just as agitated this time around.]

You've told me that apologies are meaningless, and I'm inclined to agree. To say nothing of the fact that I've already received what I deserve. I've paid for what I've done.

I have nothing more that I can offer. What is it that you want, in discussing this with me?

[It's a good question, and one that Sycamore has been rolling around his mind ever since they parted ways.]

...I want to understand you.

[He'll lean forward, after that, enough so that he's within easy reach of all those little mechanical parts, and pick one of them up. It must be a particularly intriguing part, because he isn't taking his eyes off it.]

For so long, I've tried to match my vision of you with the reality of what happened, back in Kalos. I always knew that you wanted a beautiful world, and had convinced myself that you were doing all you could to obtain it. I ignored anything that did not suit how I saw you.

[Like a particular outburst in a particular café.]

It was easy to think like that - turn you into concepts, rather than a person - after you had died. But when I saw you here, alive and vibrant, I...

[...god, this part really is so interesting.]

...I realised that I needed to stop my...fantasing, I suppose, about everything I believed you were, and give you a chance to show me who you really are. To just...be, and I wanted everything out on the table before that started. So...

[....]

...that's what I was hoping to achieve, in discussing this with you. A clean slate.

...It's easier for both of us, I think, if you continue to see me that way. As concepts, rather than a person.

[This whole dismantled watch is fascinating, honestly, though he's going to stop working on it for a bit. His hands are shaking a little, and it's going to be annoying to have to fix anything he accidentally breaks or misplaces, so just...give him a moment.]

Do you think I don't know how you saw me back then? You've always made your thoughts very clear, in that regard. I don't think you could have lied to me very well if you tried - you've always been very generous with your feelings, it's one of the many things about you that I've always found beautiful.

I liked the way you thought of me, mon ami. It isn't... I'm not a good enough person to live up to it. But it was good to know that you thought I could.

[Despite how each of those words feels like a physical blow (how could he have been so blind?), Sycamore is quick to respond.]

I don't care if it would be easier. I refuse to do that again.

[That part he's been holding is quickly returned to the pile, so he can grasp one of Lysandre's shaking hands within his own; chroma be damned.]

Call me naive if you want, I probably deserve it. But I'm not going to sit here and let this opportunity we've been given be wasted on tired fantasies. I've had enough of it, Lysandre. I...

[At some point he'll be capable of eye contact, but now is not that time; instead, he'll focus on how their hands are linked. It's a good distraction from how ragged his voice has become.]

...I have you back, and I....

[...]

...I have missed you so much. The man, not the king or the chosen one or...whatever other stupid title I gave you.

[For a moment he just stares; he isn't used to being touched, much less without explicit permission being given first, and it shows. He's quickly distracted, however, by the words, and while his gaze remains focused on their hands he doesn't pull away.

It takes him a while to find words of his own.]

If you want to dispel any fantasies or delusions you're laboring under, then I want to repeat what I told you when we first met again here: I'm not here as a favor to you. I'm not here so you can... I don't know. So you can clear your conscience; I'm not the answer to whatever prayers you've been putting forth.

I'm not trying to say that I don't want to speak with you. But if you don't want me to have any undue burdens, then don't put your absolution on me. I can't...be responsible for that. Do you understand?

[Sycamore similarly falls silent once Lysandre has finished speaking, content to focus his gaze on their hands as he processes what he's been told. It's...gentler, compared to the first time his friend delivered it, but the message is still loud and clear. It makes him gently remove his hold on his hands, so he can lean back in his chair and cross his arms.]

I understand.

[And for what feels like the first time in this entire conversation, Sycamore will actually attempt eye contact.]

You've made it clear that I owe you no apologies, so I'll take that to heart. I don't...want you to think that interacting with me has to come with a performance. I'm aware that I'm probably communicating that very badly - unsurprising, really - but I do think we agree. We're just...expressing it differently.

So I'll let you be how you choose.

[...]

...is that...what you want?

[...again, communicating in this manner is...not really his strength....but at least that tremor seems to have disappeared from his voice.]

I don't know what I want. That's part of the issue.

[Just...god, he isn't sure how to put this into words; he doesn't ever talk about this, he would really prefer not to- ]

I can't do this right now.

[It's probably the most honest he's been in a while.]

I... You know full well what I did immediately before I was brought here. I'm not supposed to be alive right now and we both know it. I don't know what I want, because I wasn't precisely expecting to have to want anything beyond doing what I did to myself.

In the end, that's all I had left to offer anyone. One last attempt that was more likely to kill myself than anyone else. I wasn't brought here to absolve you or forgive you for what you did or didn't do, because I really had no say in the matter.

I don't know what I want. I don't know what I deserve, either, but that's an argument I'll have with myself later.

[Not for the first time, Sycamore is glad that they took this discussion off the network. As much as he knows he needs to hear this...well, it isn't all about him, is it? That's the point Lysandre has been trying to make.

If only there was a magic word he could say that would make all of this easier for both of them.]

...I want to talk when we're both comfortable doing so, mon ami. Let's take a break.

[In terms of duration their conversation hasn't really been all that long, but in terms of emotional exhaustion, Sycamore feels as if they've been speaking for hours. Judging by that response, Lysandre feels the same - likely worse. Now sounds like an ideal time to back away from all of these...charged topics. They've made enough progress for the moment.

The comment around arguing with himself later is...worrying, but that doesn't need to be addressed right this minute. It is, however, filed away for later consideration, as Sycamore nods down at his dismantled watch.]

How is my Holocaster coming along? I hope I didn't break your workflow when I picked up that part; apologies, if so.

[There's a thought scratching at his mind that changing their focus - after what Lysandre just said - is insensitive, but...the last thing he wants is for his friend to spiral, and at least he knows this topic is safe. For the time being, at least.]

[...o...kay, that is a thing that happened and honestly, he seems grateful for it; he relaxes rather easily once he gets over the immediate sense of whiplash, and he's at least able to resume working on it.]

It's coming along well enough that I think I have it in me to forgive you. It's been a while since I've last worked on anything in front of you, I'm fairly sure, so I'm still getting reacquainted with doing this with an audience.

[Sycamore similarly relaxes once he sees that the topic change worked; if anything, it feels like a weight has lifted off his shoulders. They're far too good at disappearing into lighthearted topics when things get difficult.

...although this time, admittedly, he feels they've earned it.]

At least you know I can't sit here and point out how you're doing it wrong? I barely understand the technology as it is.

[Honestly, it's incredibly impressive.]

Besides, I like watching you work. There's something calming about how easy you make it look. Plus, it's all the more exciting when I know the work is for me. Like a present!

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cw: discussion of suicide

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