newrecipe | EMPATHEIAS: Mailbox

You're not wrong.

[As for the rest— it's a good question, one worth giving a good deal of thought to. It's true that this place is bizarre, and as such, nothing is quite ordinary here.]

People with stories to tell, I suppose. I enjoy learning about worlds other than my own. It's an opportunity that never would have been made available to me back home, and even as an adult, I still have a great love of learning.

[He'll probably never grow out of that.]

Even if people only wish to share a very little bit, it's often fascinating.

[Kylo himself can't deny the curiosity he has considering some aspects of other galaxies, but there's always one thing in particular that stands out to him.]

It's strange to me to be stuck on one planet, but it seems that's common for most of the people who come here.

[Strange is one way to put it. Frustrating is another.]

Is it?

[Now that, he finds especially interesting.]

You're not the first I've heard mention such travel opportunities, but I'm afraid moving between planets is still far out of reach where I come from.

[There do seem to be an awful lot of interplanetary travelers here.]

I take it you're not fond of being stuck in one place. I can't imagine anyone would be, if they were used to being able to move between planets so freely.

[They were all interplanetary travelers, in a way.]

I hadn't stayed on one planet for more than a few weeks in years. Not until I came here.

[He'd spent so much time running here and there, searching for leads, eliminating resistance, training. What little downtime he had was typically spent on starships.

As the conversation continues, there's no sound coming from Ren to suggest any purposeless movements or nervous tics; even when he's moping, he's as restrained as his usual mood allows, subconsciously holding back any physical reactions aside from his expressions.]

It wouldn't be as frustrating if most of this world wasn't inhospitable.

[So they are.]

Meanwhile, I've spent most of my life in a single city, at least until recent years.

[An interesting contrast. He makes a soft, thoughtful noise in response to what Ren goes on to say next, paired with a single nod.]

And yet while we've a whole world before us, we're limited to the island and the few neighboring cities that have been uncovered. No doubt more will be found as the people here continue to push their way past the borders of what's known, but compared to what you're used to, I can understand how this place would seem stifling.

[He pauses for a beat, inclining his head slightly.]

May I ask you something?

I can't imagine it.

[Staying in one place, never feeling the need to leave... even when he was a child, he still went from planet to planet with his mother as the senate picked a new central system. There was never anywhere that felt like home, not place-wise. And Ignis certainly isn't wrong about his perception of the situation.

Ren turns to regard the bartender curiously for a moment after that inquiry, but just because Ignis asks a question doesn't mean he has to answer.]

Go ahead.

[Indeed— asking is one thing, but answering is quite another. Ignis chooses his words carefully before proceeding, his tone as even as it has been since the start, calm and collected.]

Before we spoke, I noticed a collection of whispers as you made yourself comfortable.

[He offers a reserved but grim smile. It would seem tactless to bring his attention to such a thing, if not for the fact that the people responsible hadn't exactly been subtle.]

I can't imagine why. To be perfectly honest, I've quite enjoyed our conversation so far.

[Reticent as Ren may be.]

I might ask what the reason for your supposed reputation is, but instead, I suppose I would rather reassure you that our doors are always open to anyone.

[Of course the other man wouldn't have been on this planet at the time, if he's only been here a year. It's no real surprised, of course, that he'd meet another sort who likes to "judge for himself" instead of using their common sense.

... not that he's done anything noteworthy recently. He's not complaining, anyway.]

That's generous of you, though you might want to be more cautious.

[Ren decides he might as well answer the question, since it was sort of asked.]

I'm not known for my gentle disposition, even aside from the murder conviction. [You know, no big deal.]

[As much as Ignis is the sort who prefers to judge for himself and make decisions based on his own observations, he's not a fool— far from it. He presses his lips together briefly, though there's no immediate reaction, no sign of shock or being appalled. As ever, he is calm and collected, and briefly inclines his head to one side.]

As murderers go, you're reasonably well-spoken.

[There's something tight in his tone, but it's not as though Ignis' own hands are clean, especially now that he knows what he does about the Empire's soldiers. They're not quite as mechanical as he'd been lead to believe.]

And yet regardless of your reputation, you come to places like this during your free time, despite what others will say or do as a result.

[It seems to him that the situation may well be far more complicated than how Ren presents it. In truth, most situations are.]

However the natives decide to react to my presence isn't my concern.

[Although it's said lightly rather than annoyed or blunt, the sentiment is still one of dismissal. He doesn't think much of them, clearly.]

They know to keep their distance. That's enough.

[It's really no surprise that they would keep their distance from any of the otherworlders, in his mind. Why bother getting close to any of them when they might vanish at any moment, or reappear with no memories of past relationships? ... and ultimately, it brings his thoughts to the reasons he was brooding at the bar in the first place.

A breath leaves him through his nose in something that's not quite a sigh but carrying a similar sentiment.]

[Ignis pushes away from the bar to tend to business on his side, though his attention remains fixed on Ren even as he moves to stow bottles in their rightful places along the back shelf.]

Something about that weighs on you.

[An observation, rather than a question. He may not think much of the natives, but there's something about that distance that doesn't quite sit well with him, or so Ignis suspects.]

Regardless of who you are or what you've done, so long as you don't cause trouble here, you're welcome. I can offer you that much.

[And if there is trouble— well. Ignis doesn't quite know what sort of person he's speaking to, but a number of the Hearth's employees are prepared to deal with troublesome sorts at the drop of a hat, himself included. He doesn't imagine it will come to that, however.]

More coffee?

[Ren moves his cup audibly across the counter at the offer.]

If you would.

[Instead of expressing any gratitude towards Ignis for his apparent hospitality, Ren takes a bit more time to consider the other man's observation. His uncle, the man who both threatened and tried to save his life, having returned with no memory of either... acquaintances and family leaving, never to be seen again, every trace of them gone... is it worth all the pain of those losses? Or does it even matter, and they have no choice, doomed to make the same connections time after time because they can't stop themselves? Perhaps it's just the nature of sentient beings...]

I wonder if they might have the right idea.

[The auditory cue is more than enough, with as much practice as Ignis has had at this juncture, and he finds the cup easily once he has the pot in hand, filling it nearly to full without spilling over— though that particular bit of muscle memory comes from so many years of nursing his own coffee addiction, rather than something that had to be learned after the loss of his sight.

He sets the pot back in its place, turning his attention back towards the man at the bar.]

Many in your position would lean towards one extreme or the other, rather than give the situation due consideration.

[That interests him, as well.]

Do you truly think it's merited? Or is the man who puts them all so on edge one who no longer exists in quite the same way?

The person others have perceived me to be never really existed.

[In a way, that's how he likes it; no one needs to know about his weaknesses or his doubts or any of the other things he's tried to hide behind a mask. On the other hand... everyone around him has always judged Ben Solo and decided the path his life would take based on their mistaken assumptions. He wonders if anyone will really see him for himself—but that's an issue for another time.]

More generally... none of us have been here for more than a few years. How many of them are willing to make any sort of real connection with us? Knowing we might vanish at any time isn't the same as the possibility of death. Our presence here is unnatural.

[He slides the coffee back towards himself, picking it up to take a sip.]

Mm.

[He drops his chin slightly, thoughtful. It's a thought that Ignis himself has had on more than one occasion, though his concern came from a different place. Their time here was indefinite and unpredictable. It made one question how valuable the time spent and connections made here really were.

He knew what conclusion he had arrived at quite some time ago, but it would seem that this man is leaning in a far more cynical direction— for good reason, it would seem, but it still causes a frown to tug at the corner of Ignis' mouth.]

Unnatural, perhaps, but not without worth. Our time here matters, as do the relationships we forge— for better or for worse.

Perhaps.

[Although he has certainly had many moments on this planet he would prefer not to let go of, they would complicate his return home in a number of uncomfortable ways. Even aside from that, a part of him wonders just how much good all of it is doing him. He's aware of just how sentimental he's become in the many months he's been here, and that it's a source of great weakness he's always had difficulty shaking. It's just begging to be taken advantage of somehow. ... like it hasn't been already.

How long will his uncle even stay this time? How long do any of them still have in this place, and how many times will they come back and forget? It was hard enough meeting with family who didn't recognize him once. And with those he'd call friends... he wouldn't be able to approach them again, if they forgot.]

Did you know Alvin?

Reasonably well, yes.

[Ignis nods to confirm— he and Alvin weren't necessarily the best of friends, but Ignis had quite liked him, as well as respected all the hard work he had put into building a life for himself here.]

He gave me a job not long after my arrival here, which I was infinitely grateful for. It turned the Hearth into something of a home away from home— and it's my intent to keep the place running in his honor, so that it might still be here should he return. The ideals he founded it on are admirable, as well— I hope to honor those, as well as his hard work.

[A beat.]

Were you friends?

[Ren almost scoffs, letting a breath out through his nose. Friends. As if that would have even happened if Alvin had stayed. And yet...]

Hardly. I nearly killed him the first time we met.

[It wasn't intentional, of course, but he wonders how much of a difference that really makes. Still... it seemed to make something of a difference to Alvin, back then. How would things have changed, he wonders? There's something of that wondering in his tone when he continues, and he's too distracted by his thoughts to keep it out.]

But he actually thanked me for it, later. He said it was the reason he proposed to his wife when he did.

[Ah, yes. That's quite the opposite of being friends. Despite the lack of detail offered, Ignis is certain there must be a story to that— one, he's sure, that Ren would have offered if it were one he felt like sharing. As he did not, Ignis has the good sense not to ask.

He does go on to raise a brow at that last bit, curious.]

Did he? Well then. I suppose such an experience can help one to put things in perspective.

[His own brush with death and knowing how precious his time was had certainly done that for him.]

It does seem like Alvin to look at such a situation as gray, rather than black and white.

He was more willing to listen to my thoughts than most others were at the time.

[Alvin didn't outright agree—but he listened, which was significant. He's spent so long not being believed or trusted simply on principle that those momentary occasions mean a great deal, even if he doesn't particularly like the people otherwise.]

I suppose I appreciated that about him.

[Perhaps something that Ignis and Alvin may end up having in common, depending on how this particular evening plays out. Ignis nods his understanding, his expression carefully neutral.]

There's a great deal of value in simply having someone to talk to— even if you don't always find yourselves on the same page with one another. People often vastly underestimate its worth, I think.

[A shame. Ignis realizes that he probably sounds about as vague as a fortune cookie, but continues:]

Some thoughts are better off shared, rather than left to weigh ceaselessly on the mind. I'm glad that Alvin was able to offer you that much.

Some of them. I needed it, at the time.

[There's the sound of leather rubbing against itself as he tightens the fist resting against the bar, thinking of the few months after he returned from his death. It was one of the most miserable things he's experienced—which is saying a lot—but somehow, out of that, came... something far more pleasant. He doesn't know if he should allow himself to see it as a sign of hope for his future back home.]

I didn't get to speak to him much otherwise before he left.

Even more remarkable, I suppose, that the encounters you did have with him had such a lasting effect.

[He doesn't mean to sound lofty or idealistic in saying so; rather, it simply makes sense to him. People can easily make a difference in the lives of others, for better or for worse, even if they're only passing through.]

It's not always the length of time spent with another person that matters— nor are the experiences that shape us always pleasant, or reflective of the change to come.

I'm more than familiar with unpleasant defining experiences.

[Honestly, the major positive influences in his life? Have happened in Verens thus far. But it hasn't been only sunshine and rainbows, either. There's something jaded in his tone as he continues, though it's not enough to give it a hard edge.]

It's easy enough dealing with events that lean one way or the other. You eventually learn what to expect.

[Ignis simply nods in response to that first point; there's no need to elaborate on it, especially considering the all-too-knowing tone in Ren's voice. The other man certainly has his sympathies, regardless.]

I imagine so, given enough time. I do hope, however, that some of your defining experiences to come aren't quite so unpleasant— as we so often hear in this place, balance is more important than many of us give it credit for.

EMPATHEIAS: Mailbox

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new life goal, find out how long we can keep this going

that sounds suspiciously like a challenge

perhaps it is. iron sharpens iron, my friend.

cracks knuckles

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rocking into the second half of 2018

pchoooo

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