newrecipe | EMPATHEIAS: Mailbox

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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rocking into the second half of 2018

pchoooo

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