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Seventh.
ENCOUNTER. The journey eastward is something of a turbulent one; you've been here more than long enough - and time has readjusted itself enough - that the seasons are finally beginning to turn, lending itself to brisk, heavy autumn winds that will likely make flying a bit on the unpleasant side. Not enough to render things not worth it, but more than enough that the toll is felt. Thankfully, however, you'll be arriving at a city, with its promise of warmth and a Pokémon Center at the very least. Unfortunately, it seems that this evening, those promises will go unfulfilled. Your Drifblims and other Pokémon you came here on seem certain that Sunyshore exists, and it very much exists here - or, at the very least, it used to; however, the place you touch down seems largely untouched by civilization, all tall grass set on a series of low, rocky outcroppings that overlook the sea. All that remains to give you an impression that humans may have at least considered settling here once is the lighthouse, standing tall and resolute to the east of the field of grass and rocks you've touched down in the middle of. It still seems to be active, the light is currently on in the fading light of the day, its path sweeping across the water, across the barren land, across you. It's the one place to go, the obvious choice even without any other factors added in, but it also seems to be the one place that's occupied - they can barely be seen, but there's movement to be seen up behind the glass of the observation deck, a vague outline of what's definitely a person, though it's difficult to say what they're doing up there, or whether they've noticed you or not. The only place to go from here is up. The elevator in the lighthouse seems to be in good working order, well-maintained despite the fact that the structure itself is now effectively in the middle of nowhere; it only has two settings - ground floor and the deck - and it'll take you there swiftly and easily. It's warm in here, at least, even if it is a bit on the eerie side; the observation deck itself is enclosed, ringed with windows and a railing to lean against, the light itself stationed on a level above you and not impeding your vision or your ability to look out any. While he isn't immediately visible, there definitely is still someone on the deck when you arrive; he's standing facing the sea, and he's either confident or generally apathetic enough to not turn to face you as you arrive. The shock of blue hair and the uniform of the Team Galactic leader are familiar, however, even though you've only met him once; even though there's nothing here - not for him, not for anyone anymore - you've managed to find Cyrus. He doesn't tense at anyone's approach,though he does speak once he's aware of you, and he does seem aware of you rather quickly. "Are you here to kill me?" The words are calm, quiet; still authoritative, in their own way, but not a demand in the least. "If that's your intention, then I wouldn't be surprised. Though I wouldn't advise an attempt. Either way, it would be something of a wasted effort... And besides, I'm not going to instigate another reset. Not now. Not here." |
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[...]
Destiny has always been something we make ourselves, here. It's acceptable to be in the world and do as you please, but there's no greater purpose that you're believed to be contributing to. That isn't to say that everything is arbitrary, either... Simply that if one is going to do great things, they have to claim it for themselves. There isn't anything to dictate that some of us will be more important than others... There's merely personal belief in what one may or may not be destined for.
But then, I imagine you've seen by now... Our deities tend to have different priorities than we do as humans.
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They are not lacking in insight or in compassion, but there are of the world but not... of humans. Or at least, they do not appear to be the keepers of the wellbeing of them. [ Like. Obviously. ] However I... I must ask, do you not feel a sense of wrongness to have wrenched the world out of the order it was made for?
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I can't say that there isn't a sense of wrongness in what I've done. But there isn't regret, either.
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[No, really, he's curious.]
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I do not know. Either as a scholar or as -- what I was destined to be, I really do find the idea of that much certainty, to know better than the order of the world, totally incomprehensible.
[ . . . ]
But if I were to guess- my first guess would be from despair.
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[Nothing he's confirming or denying, just...interesting.]
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