ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ ᴜɴᴅʏɪɴɢ (
necrolord) wrote in
deercountry2023-01-09 02:43 pm
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Entry tags:
15 . JOHNUARY
Who: John Gaius and company.
What: All around him, John's friends and loved ones begin to shed their skins. Also: Riteoir.
When: January
Where: Gaze and the new city.
Content Warnings: Tagged in headers as needed. Note all the usual warnings of this character.
What: All around him, John's friends and loved ones begin to shed their skins. Also: Riteoir.
When: January
Where: Gaze and the new city.
Content Warnings: Tagged in headers as needed. Note all the usual warnings of this character.
no subject
As someone who used to live in the woods? Vastly overrated.
[That's how he starts, buying time with a joke as hew chews on this further.]
But I dunno, taking care of your people's pretty big responsibility on its own, don't you think? These boys who run around fighting pirates, they gotta have a place to go back to at the end of the day, right? Someone who's gonna watch their backs during the fights, get 'em a good meal and a warm place to sleep before they get back to it the next day.
[It wasn't nearly like that, with the bandits. You pulled your own weight, or you'd be thrown to the Grimm. Peter's adventures with these lost boys sounds a lot gentler. That John so identifies with it is something that gives Qrow some pause, before he adds:]
We've got a lot of stories like that, of people coming together and taking care of each other. But I think I always got more out of the ones where it isn't so easy.
[For Qrow, he's never quite had the luxury of it being simple to be with others -- as a harbinger of misfortune, a spy, a soldier in Oz's war. Struggle has defined too much of the way Qrow has lived for those stories where it's easy and without worries to be meaningful to him.]
One of the ones that stuck with me the longest was Infinite Man.
no subject
Badly, mind. It's a rattling, rotten breath. But this world still breathes. ]
I'm out of my element in the woods these days. [ He tips a hand to the trees. ] I'll let you be my expert.
We've got time, if you'll tell it.
no subject
[Qrow's voice is soft, and there's a thread of affection in it that perhaps reads as nostalgia for a childhood memory, or something similar. He's not about to admit that it's essentially the memoir of a real person, after all, much less his own mentor.]
One day, this man came to the aid of a village under attack by Grimm, and the people he saved were so impressed they insisted on traveling with him. The more they traveled, rescuing people from Grimm, the more word would spread of this man and his followers, and more people would come to join them--to learn from him, or to be protected, or just to be part of something. They came to be called the Circle.
But the rumors of the man's power, that he had lived many lives, didn't just draw followers. It also drew people who wanted to see proof, and the man was betrayed by one of his own. He was poisoned, and on his deathbed the young girl from the first group of villagers he'd saved begged him to come back...and he did. It took many years, and by the time he found them the woman was already middle-aged. But they'd made the Circle flourish, became a stronghold against the Grimm and a place people could learn to defend themselves and protect others, and the man was awed and honored. He meant to move on, thinking they didn't need him anymore, but they pleaded with him to stay, and he did.
For a while, they were happy. Until a group invaded his Circle, wanting to fight a god. The terms were simple--a fight to the death between their leader and the man, and they promised to leave the village alone if he agreed. His people protested, but he thought it was the best way to protect them. Still...it was a difficult battle, and the man didn't fear death. He only worried for the safety of his Circle, and the danger posed by it dragging on too long and causing collateral damage. He decided to throw the match.
[His voice goes quiet, almost hushed, from there. He remembers the time he saw this story play out as a memory, the argument he and Oz had about it. The knowledge this is a true story makes the last part a little hard to tell, even though he's come this far.]
....The warriors didn't keep their word. When the man came back again, there were no more stories, no real trace of the Circle to be found--except one old, old woman with a missing eye and arm. The only one spared and left behind to tell the story...so everyone would know the folly of placing their hopes and faith in one man--and not even a very good one.
--Not exactly a happy ending, but I still think about it a lot. About the man, and the choice he made at the end. What he might have done differently.
no subject
It's funny. Qrow goes slow and faltering, voice heavy, like this is a tragedy that matters. He believes it, on whatever level. It all sounds too familiar not to.
John's battle has dragged on a long, long time. He promised, once, that he'd never throw the match. ]
What was his mistake, do you think? [ He turns from the fire to Qrow again, something grim and resolute in his face. ] Was it that he couldn't convince anyone he was a man, or that he couldn't convince himself he was a god? How else was he supposed to be both?
no subject
But while Qrow hadn't quite anticipated the question to be asked in that way, he had expected the question itself. He doesn't avoid John's oil-black gaze when he answers, for all the color stirs unpleasant associations.]
When I was younger, I used to think his mistake was taking the invading warriors at their word. He trusted them when he shouldn't have, and his people suffered for it.
[The funny thing about Infinite Man is that you can read the story in any number of ways to suit your own point of view. Qrow has known this story as long as he's known its author, and his views on it have grown alongside him.]
But these days I look at it differently. The invaders lied, sure, but it never really had to come to that. The man's people told him, over and over, that they needed him. And then, in that last critical moment, he decided on his own that they were wrong, and left them behind. And yeah, the invaders didn't keep their word, but what if he'd listened to his people and refused to accept the challenge? What if he'd fought back with the people he'd come to love like family and trusted that he'd trained them well enough to hold their own, and that they'd gone on to train the others just as well? Maybe they still would've had to bear some losses, but they wouldn't have been obliterated.
[He shakes his head.]
I guess you could say he acted too much like a god when he was still only a man, but I think the problem was closer to the heart.
[Victory lies in a smaller, more simple soul.]
He couldn't trust his own people to know what was best for them, so he made the choice for them. He let himself die thinking he was saving them, but they wouldn't have wanted to be saved that way in the first place.
no subject
The next bit is worse. There is a moment where he slips— where it shows in his face, a tightening of pain and exhaustion around his oilslick eyes— and then John turns back to the fire, so that the flickering light across his face hides some of the weight in it. ]
That's the trouble of it. A man should listen to his family when they tell him he's fucking it up... a god is supposed to make those calls. And both are good at playing the martyr.
no subject
He does John the kindness of not looking into his eyes when he says the next part, and it's surprisingly easy to find the words, when he pushes aside the last lingering embers of resentment for the debacle in July.]
You already know how I feel about gods, I think. But for what it's worth from some random asshole who's only ever been a man -- if you've got a chance to be one here, you should take it, and hold whatever family you're able to build close. There'll always be more powerful gods.
no subject
It's good advice. [ He exhales a long breath, and looks at Qrow again, his expression gone wry and tired. ] But it's right there in the story: once you've been a god, it ruins you for trying to be a man. Even though he tried to pick one and not the other... he couldn't pull it off.
no subject
[And here's where Qrow is at an advantage, of course, knowing the story is real.]
There's many versions of that story out there. Some versions like to imagine epilogues for it. The infinite man doesn't stop being infinite just because one of his circles was broken, you know? He carries on. But the great thing about that story is that it's exactly whatever you want to make of it. You can still decide what he does next, write an epilogue for your ideal version.
[He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh.]
I mean, we're all a little bit infinite out here in squidland, right? That calls for a few tweaks, if you ask me.
no subject
[ He sits back and rubs a thumb at his temple, weary, but some of the weight has gone out of the moment. He says it like a hypothetical, even if no one's fooled. ]
With everyone gone... nothing left but ashes and one pissed-off old woman... you think he just starts over? Seems like we've got the opposite, here. Nothing ever really dies.
cw: reference to "hypothetical" suicide
[Qrow speaks as though this isn't a story about someone he knows, and John carries on as though it hasn't hit home. Both of them maintain the kindness of continuing to politely pretend as though they believe each other.]
The one nice thing about hitting bottom is that the only way left to go is up, even when it's a treacherous climb and your shoes are torn to shit.
no subject
[ There's a clean-slate simplicity to losing everything. That's what doesn't sit right with him, here: no one ever starts fresh. Their deaths and disasters follow them again and again. With people around to watch it all play out, the only way up is through hell, and all that's at the top is the view of the bottom.
Their fire is burning low, by now. The forest around them is cold and still. It isn't the kind he wanted to live in, when he was a kid, and there's nothing out in it but a world that'll keep them for infinity. ]
Thanks for the story.