lazybox | [voicetest] it's this guy

"You said my name," the child says. Rather than continuing to tower over her, he kneels down, and then with a slight whumpf, sits beside her, robe hem flaring upwards briefly to reveal plain, soft shoes before he smooths it back out. Seated, now, there's evidence that either more or less care was put into the appearance of this one, because the jawline visible under the mask isn't quite as shapelessly anonymous as the others.

"Are you waiting for someone?" he asks, still possessed of the gentleness of the Amaurotines, combined with the simple straightforwardness of children. "You seem lonely."

"...Hades?" Era repeats in query, curling the syllables on her tongue in a way that is more Amaurotine than Eorzean.

The child gives her something to focus on and she is eager to take it. Anything to stop the tumultuous spiral of emotions inside of her in this moment, however briefly. He wears a mask and robe like all the others, but does not ... feel like the others.

The shape of his jaw is more defined. Vaguely familiar — though that does not mean much right now, when the world around her all feels the same.

"I am..." How to explain without explaining? Era does no lie, and will not start now. Eventually she tugs her knees to her chest, settling into a more comfortable position.

"I am."

There need be no further explanation. If she seems lonely it's because she is.

He simply nods his head as she says his name again. And when she admits to the loneliness... His shoulders slump, just a little, posture now even more like his older counterpart.

(Because that's who, and what, he is. A child too young to have any titles or pretenses to maintain, rather than the man who cast all of them aside. The end as the beginning.)

"I was supposed to meet a friend of mine," he says. It's awkward, a child's attempt at sympathy. "But I don't think they're going to be here."

He leans forward, masked face twisting around to look at her. "You're not from around here, right? I've never seen anyone like you."

"Why do you say that?"

Era knows his friend will not be here, but a shade would have no such knowledge nor inclination. His question gives her further pause, as she doesn't know quite how to answer.

"I'm from very far away," she says. "From very far down the stream of time."

"It's just a feeling," he says. "Like there's something gone that won't come back."

Even children are sensitive to the aura of anxiety that pervades the Amaurot in which they stand, on the cusp of the end of days. Even children who do not belong here, but in a time even further back, when all was peaceful and harmonious.

But a child is still a child, and there's a brightness in his words at her response. "Are you a time traveller? That's supposed to just be theoretical - most theories say that you can't change the past, because it would cause instability in the future, but..."

He stops, and seems to shake himself under the hood. "My apologies, I'm sure that's rude. If you were a time traveller, you wouldn't be able to tell me." Said with all the certainty of children who know what the Rules are. He nods to himself. "But I can show you around, if you like," he offers after a moment.

"Life is like that, sometimes."

There is that feeling of familiarity again. Sadness, too; a deep-seated grief that weighs heavy on her sundered soul. This boy said his name is Hades, and it cannot be coincidence.

"Time is not always linear, nor concrete. Who can say for certain? Perhaps a change in the past simply causes a new tributary to form, branching off in a new direction, leading toward a different end. Safe, and separate, linked only by a far off point far behind it."

But she is no specialist in the concept of time and space, despite having traveled through it.

"If I could promise that our interaction would be of no consequence, what would you like to know?"

"That's the second-most popular scholarly opinion," he says, and there it is, that slight touch of arrogance, though it's not so much looking down on her, at this age, as it is being proud of himself for knowing.

But at her question, he goes quiet. "I wouldn't know where to start," he says. "Everyone is so nervous suddenly..."

His hands fold over his knees. "I want to hear that everything will be okay, but not if it's a lie. My friend and I promised we wouldn't lie to each other. It's important."

He has certainly twisted her arm with his answer. By saying nothing, Era is admitting that everything will not be okay, and if she reassures him it would be a lie, which she cannot abide by.

"Listen carefully, my dear little Hades." Her voice is soft and quiet; soothing and melodic. "Everything will not be okay. Things will be different, and perhaps disappointing, but..."

She curls her tail back and forth, back and forth. Thoughtful. Anxious. She has never been good with children.

"This world is ending, and from its death fourteen more shall be birthed. But you will be brave, and you will survive. Your kin will live on in different form, with no memory of this time and no capacity to create life as you do now."

Era turns to him fully now, eyes an ethereal blue made all the more so in the lights of the city.

"I say this not to frighten you, but to offer you hope. That regardless of this world crumbling around you, you will survive, and life will continue to flourish. A different definition of life than what you know now, but no less beautiful for it."

The child is quiet, as she speaks. But when she's finished... He nods to himself, as though assured of something.

"You're the same, aren't you?" he asks. And there's that sense of knowing, as though the world were tilting on its axis around a single conclusion. "The reason my friend isn't here is because you are."

A bit harsh, but honest.

She cannot help the way she flinches at his statement. It is the truth, which is what makes it so brutal.

"Her soul was sundered into fourteen," Era confirms. "I am comprised of nine of them, but we are not the same, she and I. I will never be her, only myself."

The way his shoulders slump in disappointment is but a precursor to his later self's overdramatic motions. But at the same time, there's something hopeful in his voice.

"But you still kept your promise," he says. "To meet me here."

"I—" Era sees the way the boy all but wilts, and there is a foreign urge within her breast to scoop him into her arms: to soothe and reassure, despite the disparity between them.

It is not something the Warrior of Light (Darkness) is prone to doing, and she wars with herself briefly before coming to a compromise. She holds out her hand for him to take should he deign to; an offer of comfort within her own.

The smile Era gives him is tired, but no less earnest for it.

"I suppose that she did."

If this Ancient being of her soul was anything like Era herself, broken promises are an unforgivable thing, and must be avoided at all costs within reason.

She finds she likes the thought of similarities between them. Between the soul that she was and the soul that she is. Era will forever be her own person, but inherited traits... That is something like family if she isn't mistaken.

"Your friend desperately wanted to keep her promise."

[voicetest] it's this guy

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