How many times must we tell the tale?

[magicalarchaeologist]

WHO: Istredd and anyone!
WHAT: May post-event aftermath
WHERE: Thorne, Horizon
WHEN: May
WARNINGS: Nothing!





Starters Below!

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In Thorne

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd comes back with a heavy weight on his shoulders that appears to be weighing him down emotionally and even physically. He doesn't carry himself with his usual calm and quiet self-possession. He looks tired, circles under his eyes despite spending much of his time in bed that first week back. Perhaps because he is lying down but not sleeping, since his dreams are all of flying and glorious bookshelves now, which he wakes up to find yet again, it was all fake.

He takes a few days off his usual teaching of classes, staying in his room and avoiding people. He is available for visitors as he's not leaving and seems painfully taking notes about the experience. Sometimes there is a redness to his eyes, indicating his emotions have led to tears at least once, but he tries to be as stoic as possible for guests.

After a week, Istredd is back to classes and visible around the castle. He goes to the mess hall, visits the library, and at least attempts conversation with people like usual. There is an emptiness in his eyes though, a flat tone to his voice, and like he's just going through the motions of living. Sometimes he is intentionally hiding off in a corner somewhere making notes in his book of things to remember, trying to be better at it rather than letting the misery make it impossible for him to write anything down. He also stares off into space, appearing to look at nothing, but he's lost in memories.

The most life Istredd experiences is when he goes back to Nott to see what clean up needs to be done. He promised to take over Rhy's hospital project so that is where he goes first to check on how the progress is going. They halted the project when the storms were too bad to get anything done, but it has begun again. He looks morose as he helps out at the hospital and finds other areas in Nott still being cleaned up and repaired, doing spells to fix up the last of the broken boats, but at least he's coping better there.

visiting

[ushiri]

"Jerry makes soup."

This is how Kahlil announces himself when he enters Istredd's room, carrying a warm bowl of said soup. It's not bad, which may be a surprise because who can ever guess with Jerry. He sets the bowl on the desk next to Istredd as he's writing.

This is Kahlil's first proper check-in, not counting their messages about Jack. He has been pulled in too many directions since they've returned, allowing himself to function on muscle memory of his routines as he sorts through his own memories and watches his companions cope in their own ways. He's offering what he can to help. He's done this once before, though in reverse.

He shouldn't be surprised how badly Istredd is responding to being back, but he feels particularly useless in this case. He keeps that to himself.

[magicalarchaeologist]

Outside of the Jack situation, and checking in with River, Istredd has mostly kept to himself and Lucifer. There is nothing his partner can really do about his mood nor does he try anymore to force Istredd's emotions away from a situation. As usual, Istredd can explain people need to feel things in order to get past them. This is no exception, although it has less fear and pain than Thanedd or the kidnapping. This is the opposite.

He was happy in a way he'd never experienced. He had a purpose, a life, friends and family, a glorious library, love and comfort, with no anxiety or fear to hold him back. No bad self-esteem to worry about, no intrusive thoughts, that was left centuries before. And he comes back to being trapped, all his worst memories hitting him in a flood at once, and now he's all concerns and anxieties again. It's exhausting.

He pauses when Kyle comes in and glances at him from the corner of his eye. Istredd flushes. He's not in a comfortable place where he can laugh about the fact he knows Kyle intimately well. He does not expect to be reminded of that but he is. He clears his throat and puts his pencil down, awkward.

"I appreciate the thought." He's unlikely to touch it. He hasn't eaten much since returning. Istredd studies Kyle thoughtfully. He too is the one who tries to seem like he has it all together, but at the moment, Istredd's given up on that. He wonders if Kyle only seems like this way because he's still trying.

"How are you?"

[ushiri]

Kahlil notices the way Istredd's face flushes, though he doesn't immediately connect the dots. It doesn't help that Istredd's eyes are tinged red as well.

"I hope you'll appreciate it by actually eating some," he says, leaning his hip against the desk and crossing his arms. He's no one's mother, but it'd be nice for any of them to start taking care of their mortal bodies again.

He glances idly at Istredd's notes, then his hands.

"I'm fine. I think I prefer extra memories over no memory."

More than that, he had nothing he was holding onto in that vision of the future. He's not sure he liked who he was, by the end, though he never told anyone. He knows he found solace in his friends, in acting out what he believe was his role in that world, but there was a part of himself missing that he couldn't retrieve, something beyond memory.

[magicalarchaeologist]

"I'll consider it." That's all he can offer on that front. Food and drink just aren't meaning much to him currently. Their bodies were somehow sustained magically for three weeks but he's not inclined to use his well at the moment. He used to have wings. He used to fly.

Istredd's look is openly skeptical. "You're fine," he echoes. It's clear he doesn't believe it. "So should I call you Kahlil or do you still prefer Kyle?" Istredd has an excellent memory. A perfect one, at times, supernaturally so. He remembers all the details that were filled in by the years and their experiences as friends and occasional lovers.

"I prefer extra memories too."

[ushiri]

He just kind of grunts to that response.

His brow furrows, and if Istredd is looking at him he might notice a flicker of hurt in his expression when he asks what to call him, taking the comment like a barb in response to trying to get him to eat. He kept so much of himself hidden for so long from those he was closest too, and he is reminded of his guilt. The hurt doesn't linger, he's quick to bury it without bothering to answer that question. Istredd shouldn't actually need him to answer it.

"Do you?" he asks pointedly, though without malice from offense or misdirected guilt. He feels stupid now, not realizing some of his companions might take issue with some of what he's held back about his identity, about his travels. He doesn't remember enough of the details of their conversations about these things to know how it went in that reality, only that it hadn't come up again over the centuries.

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd sees that flicker of hurt and it instantly makes him feel guilty for being in a bad mood. Kyle doesn't deserve him being sarcastic like this. He is generally such a gentle person that not everyone knows he can be acerbic when it suits him. It takes a lot of emotion to make him difficult, but when he is, it can be a lot.

"I'm sorry. That was unfair. I'm not myself."

Or at least he isn't entirely certain what himself is right then. Istredd knows that he felt his most self in a reality that doesn't exist. He was the best version of himself, in fact, a truly evolved and joyful person. Coming back to this has been painful.

"I suppose it's wrong, that I know more about you than you've chosen to tell me." This version of him has chosen to tell him nothing about what he now is aware of. It was against Kyle's will. Perhaps it would be right of him to try and get rid of those memories.

[ushiri]

He shakes his head at the apology. It's not really needed.

"No," he says frowning to himself. "I should have told you most of it before... this."

Illusion. Shared dream. Possible future, one of many. There's no certainty in such a vision, it has to be navigated. He shakes his head again.

"There's never a good time to admit you've been hiding things."

Especially from people you care about. It kind of gets worse the longer you wait, he's found.

[magicalarchaeologist]

"I'm not upset you were hiding things, Kyle. It's your life, your story. You don't owe it to any of us." Istredd is just so tired, is the thing. They apparently rested for three weeks but they didn't, their minds were alive. But sleeping since has been difficult too because he dreams and wakes up all over again.

It reminds him of when they came back from the Pit. When going to bed was something he dreaded due to the nightmares, and now it's the opposite. He wants to go back to the dream.

"But is there a reason you didn't trust me with any of it? I would have listened." Istredd wonders if he's the strange one for being so open with his past, because Yennefer also is very guarded. They're lovers and she hides a great deal even from him. But not Lucifer, who tells him almost too much, unless Jack fucking Townsend and a bad future is involved. (He's over it.) (Mostly.)

"I thought we were closer. Perhaps that is on me."

In Horizon

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd's depression follows him into the Horizon, especially when he looks at his library and finds at first how unsatisfying it is in comparison to what he knew before. It still is impressive, it always has been, and he used to be proud of that, but knowing what it could be makes it look so small. Like usual though he can be seen or found within the shelves, either putting together a shelf or pulling books off it to scroll through. The ravens seem less social than ever before, barely being seen on the top levels of the library.

There is a room with blackboards on it that is open to the public and he is writing on one detailing the experience of the mass hallucination as part of his history of the Summoned. He doesn't look particularly happy about it, but for now it is just fact. Come look at it or talk to him about it, this is when he is most receptive to discuss the experience.

Those who are close to him can go to his private study and find him staring off into space or lying with the leosylphs resting on his chest, finding their purring very soothing. He is not reading anything but may be seen writing instead. There is music being played and it is Jaskier's music which also is there to make him feel less stressed.

On bad days, he may be found redoing a room over and over, frustrated beyond belief that it isn't perfect to what he imagined it before. It's still beautiful and well put together, anyone would find that a good room, but Istredd scowls at it, crossing arms against his chest. "Pathetic," he tells himself, because it is an attack on himself for not having god powers.

[gynvael]

It's at least a week or two later before Geralt ventures into Istredd's domain—not out of a lack of care, but a desire to give the man some space before they talk. He does not exactly regret their encounter—what happened, happened—but he does regret that keeping what they had was an impossibility.

To say that he misses the reality they shared isn't accurate. But it would also be wrong to claim he is glad to be free of it.

Geralt arrives at the room's threshold with one of the leosylphs in his hand: a white fuzzy creature that he's carrying like an offering, its four legs splayed out from where it sits in his palm. He has made no attempt to reconstruct Kaer Morhen into the cabin that later replaced it. The him that existed in those years was ready to let his old home go. But here and now, he is not.

Seems Istredd is caught up in recreating, though. Unsuccessfully, it would appear.

"You had a runaway," he announces by way of greeting. He holds out the feline. He's fairly sure they can't truly escape, but he did find this one outside the library.

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd is still in a bad mood surrounding the experience and the way he got out of it, and he's less angry about any person in particular, and more the adjustment back to this reality. He's been unhappy in Thorne, less patient, more prone to snapping, but he does expect to even out eventually. He can't force himself to be magically better. He would if he could. Thorne feels like shackles around him, worse than before, given what he and Lucifer went through to get into the crater in the first place.

Within the boundaries of his creativity, his work is better than it was before the mass hallucination. He has put more detail into it, more eye for beauty and aesthetic, but he simply cannot reach the level of what he could as a god. This space can't feel alive the same way. It's a foolish endeavor to try.

Istredd is so in his head that he didn't realize Geralt was there until he spoke, unusual for someone usually in control of his space. He reaches out to take the leosylph, which seems funny considering the first time he saw one, also coming from Geralt. He keeps it in his hand, gently stroking its head.

"I'm sorry I was difficult," he says after a little bit of silence. It's a different type of regret.

[gynvael]

He never did ask what happened to that other creature. No doubt in a nice home somewhere. Ironic, how he ended up with one regardless despite his initial attempts to rid himself of the damn thing. He's quite sure Blake assumes it must be the same one foisted on him in the Nocwich infirmary—they bear the same colouring—and Geralt has not bothered to correct the man.

A tilt of his head accompanies the apology, shrugging it off. "We were all difficult."

He finds a seat on the nearest flat surface, nudging a few books aside. He has not forgotten the room Istredd created for him; he spent much of his time during those years in Istredd's library. A quiet escape from what the world demanded of him and the things he could not remember. When his memories returned, he visited a little less, but by no means irregularly. He would not be opposed to seeing it again. Even if he no longer needs it.

His fingers run along one of the leather-bound tomes. "You've been rebuilding."

[magicalarchaeologist]

The apology is given and accepted, and he sighs, his shoulders dropping from their brief tension. It's true, they were all difficult. They were in a difficult situation, given the height of the way their minds were being played with. He still doesn't know who to even blame for it, whether it was the Singularity or gods or something else entirely. It would be nice for a specific entity to blame, like Josselyn Creed was before.

"I can see everything I did in my head, I can visualize what I made. But duplicating it has been hard." To say the least. He probably could copy the room he created for Geralt, if he allows himself the patience to tap into his creativity more than trying to perfect things, but the greater level of this place is beyond a human mind. Even his. It was wish fulfillment, a space built of every piece of knowledge in the world.

Istredd sighs and focuses on Geralt. His hair is its longer length at the moment, usually a sign of a more frantic mindset. Perhaps because in Thanedd, he was. He runs fingers through it. "How are all of o--your people?" They're not his people anymore. "Jaskier? Cirilla?"

[gynvael]

Mm. "Perhaps," Geralt offers gently, "it's not meant to be duplicated."

He seeks the lustre of that world as much as Istredd. He had not been eager to leave it. He simply knows that when they make their way there—somehow—it will not be the same. He doesn't want it to be the same. It should be something more. Built upon decisions they made, not a vision that granted a sweeping eight hundred years of half-drawn memories and hazy revelations.

But that is a private desire he's kept hold of. So he doesn't say it.

"Carrying on." Inasmuch as they are able. What else is there to do? He quirks an eyebrow. "She might actually tolerate you now."

He has not spoken to Ciri of it, but he imagines, like him, those years are not easily dismissed, affections not easily forgotten. Even if they may be in question for a little while.

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd wants to say then what was the purpose? but in truth, he can think of many different purposes for the fantasy they were thrown into. The motivations come down to who caused it, whether that's the Singularity or the god causing trouble, the note when they came out of it seemed to imply the latter to him. But there are endless question marks at the end, like usual. What they've all taken from it is individual at this point. Or what they can't let go of, in his case.

He understands what Geralt means and he appreciates he's trying to be kind about it, and Istredd sighs, rubbing his temples. The Ciri news at least gets a half-smile.

"Now that would be a consequence I would appreciate." It was nice, them getting along. He became her eccentric academic uncle-adjacent and they could be around each other pleasantly. Istredd and Ciri have had a very difficult road over the past two years and if one thing went well after this, it'd be a relief. Bridging the gap between them would make it better.

Istredd pauses, struggling with his internal feelings, and wondering if it's pointless to speak at all. What would Geralt care? But he's here, so maybe he does care, a little bit. It's been bothersome, Lucifer and Yennefer sliding back into their lives without the same struggle he's having. Bringing back the types of things he got used to being without, like doubt and guilt.

"I don't think I realized how unhappy I was in parts of my life until I had the illusion of a perfect one. Now I'm stuck back in Thorne again and back to who I was before."

[gynvael]

Geralt is, possibly, yet another who has eased back into his life without much struggle. It isn't that he's untroubled. Only that he...is accustomed to it. The harshness of reality. The way the world takes without giving. What they had was pleasant, but they did not bleed for it. Not really. And he knows, whatever they do, wherever they find themselves, it will always be a road lined with blood and tears.

He watches Istredd, quiet. Does he expect the mage to share his feelings? Not exactly. Nor is he surprised that the man has. They've talked often in those centuries. And Geralt, as ever, is a patient listener when he's a mind to be.

Perfection is simply a state too good to be true. Geralt did not change, really, in those years. He recognizes that Istredd had. Not by a lot—not in Geralt's eyes—but enough.

"And who might that be?"

He senses what Istredd means to say. He suspects making the mage speak it out loud might bring some perspective for the man.

Awakening to Aftermath

[thedevilwhorose]

There's a solemn air about Lucifer when he finds whatever corner of the tower Istredd's sequestered himself to. One of Lucifer's six wings is tucked under the others, recently injured, would heal just fine if he allowed it, but the dull throb of pain is keeping him coherent.

His mind is open. Wide, brilliant, fully unraveling. Paint spreading along water and moving across their channels to envelope Istredd's.

His sorrow is blue. His love is silver. His resolve is blood red. The rest swirls and mixes in and out like a ever-turning kaleidoscope of color.

I'm sorry. I truly am. But we have to leave. We can't stay here.

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd is sequestered as far and out of the way as he can. For once he's not available in the library, people could call for him but it's unknown if he'd show up. At this point, it is intentional avoidance. He shelves his books and he writes up his lists and he completely ignores the cracking of the world above and around him. Geralt wondered how he of all people could stop having questions about the strange things going on.

His skin is a patchwork, not the pure black with stars it was for a long time, a mixture of brown and that, and the swirling constellations in it flickers, doesn't hold firm. So in a way, he is reacting, he's changing slightly, but he's not cognizant of it. His mind is shuttered, cut into a box. Not ready for the opposite coming at him.

Istredd sets his stack of books down and picks one up, scrolling through it, although it's fake, he's not reading any of it.

Leave? And go where? You're not making sense. It's Istredd who is making no sense but he is holding on with everything he has to the illusion.

[thedevilwhorose]

A bone-tired sigh drains out of him from halo through six wings and six arms and last leaving out of his tail.

This reality, Istredd. We can't stay here. Repetition, echoed. We need to leave. It may shatter around them and swallow them up and give them no choice one way or another, who knows. Maybe they could still be in a fractured piece of glass, existing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But Lucifer is actively making the choice, when he's spent so long running from it.

[magicalarchaeologist]

No, Istredd says firmly. He's distant though, like he's separating from reality, his mind far away from where they are. He hugs a book to himself, not unlike what he did all that time ago in Nott, when they found that special book and both remembered it. Not that he remembers that, no.

No, no, no.

He rarely has his wings out in the library but they come out now, identical to the same ones Lucifer sports, and they remind him of who he's supposed to be. Not a person, he flies.

Whatever this is can wait. More of the sky above them cracks. He doesn't look up. I have plans with the dragons. The dragons aren't real, none of this place is real. But they are, he can see them in his head, vivid and true.

[thedevilwhorose]

He reaches up to press a claw into his skullface and doesn't move.

He knew this was going to be difficult.

I don't want to take this from you. I don't want to leave without you, Istredd.

He's so often not considered what Istredd's wanted in the past that adds just another bulletin to Lucifer's growing list of things he needs to look back on and remember.

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd's tense, in a way he hasn't been for hundreds of years. How he went from relaxed and content to feeling like every muscle in his body is clenching at once, it's upsettingly real. Every crack in the sky reminds him of what being anxious is like.

Then stay. He steps forward and reaches out to take one of Lucifer's claws. He sets the book down to the side, not picking it for the moment. We're happy, Lucifer. We have everything we want. They're free from Thorne, they're safe in the Nether and are settled, their friendships were repaired, and they have every reason to be happy. Leaving that would be madness.

He knows there is something he's missing but he simply can't take the idea of letting this library go, this life go. He shakes his head. We don't have to go anywhere.

[thedevilwhorose]

Then stay.

He should. Just give Istredd something he's asked for, in the end. Just make it not about himself.

The fact that the familiar coolness that had settled comfortably over Lucifer from the last eight hundred years has begun to thaw away should be a clearer sign that something is wrong that they can't outrun. There's no avoiding it when it's in their veins, coming off of them just as much as the breaking world.

He remembers the pulsing ache to the center of his grace when he heard the awe in Michael's voice "There was a man, Gabriel. He was my brother" and how it speared right through Lucifer's thoughts. A lot followed, but that first strike resonated with him, to the point that Istredd likely had felt it.

I'm sorry, but I don't have everything and it's just another thing that I let flourish under ignorance. It's just illusion, Istredd. All of it. You know that, you're the master of illusions. A splash of electrifying yellow of panic hits their minds. Is it really worth it to keep living the lie instead of what's real?!

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd did feel it, one of the times that knocked him emotionally off his feet, made him struggle to keep control of what is going on here. Geralt did it too. Everything became clear for a few seconds, but he shrugged it off, focused on anything but that.

I don't have everything. Maybe Lucifer is thinking about pretending for Istredd's sake, but Istredd is still himself, the one who always puts Lucifer first. And while his heart breaks at this, it means he has no choice. If Lucifer leaves, he must leave. As usual, there is no actual decision otherwise to be made. He struggles, wants to deny it, but the ripple of panic knocks him and he cringes.

It was only a matter of time. His mind already knew this wasn't real. There is such resignation in his voice, in their bond, losing something he treasured above all else. He reaches up to touch Lucifer's archangel face, sighing. I won't make you leave alone. He promised never to let Lucifer be alone. Reality it is.

The space around them ripples and shatters and the sky opens into lightning and chaos. Maybe they timed it right, and this is when everyone snapped out of it. Maybe they tipped over the balance of people awake. Either way, the illusion fades, everything they felt or was, the power in their body, the freedom they experienced, drained away. Leaving them forced to wake up in the crater. Istredd feels like everything hurt, emotionally and physically, unknown at the moment how long they were gone. A minute? A year?

He looks over since they walked in together, and sees Lucifer still tied up nearby, having been tossed in exactly like this. Istredd looks up as the guards close in and up at the sky, which now has no lightning or damage at all from before, it is clear. He struggles to his feet weakly and reaches down to put a gentle hand on Lucifer's shoulder.

"Let him go, for fuck's sake! We fixed it."

What settles over him then, reality destroying what was left of his hope, is an utter emptiness. Lost. Emotionally checked out. Nothing there. Enough there to swear at the guards, but that barely causes a ripple. It's over. So after Lucifer is allowed up, he follows the guards without argument, each step feeling heavier than the last. Back to Thorne. Back to misery.

What he doesn't miss out on though, one single moment of light amongst the darkness, is something to be learned. We were right about the new gods. And that tiny triumph is the only thing he can hold onto.