[ Maybe it is then a pity that his world's gods were less generous. Or maybe they worked in different ways. He can't judge without actually being in that world, either.
But he certainly can judge this one, and his soft tone takes on a firmer edge once the question is posed to him: ]
They're barely meeting the standard. At least they do something, but they're doing far from enough. This so-called war would be over much sooner if they gave us appropriate tools instead of leaving us muddling around like insects. We don't even have a sanctioned chain of command. If they're so lazy as to delegate all their tasks to mortals then they should kidnap their own people instead of irresponsibly swiping them from other worlds.
[ There's quite a lot of salt he has, exacerbated by the fact that he can actually feel said salt now rather than dealing with a wall of machine-like apathy.
Actually, it's touching a way darker thread of thought than he intended to, so let's not talk too much about that right now. ]
[This is, of course, not a conversation Horatio had ever had in his own time and place. This is barely a conversation he's had lately, given the difficulty of finding himself comfortable enough to speak freely around... well, most people.
But the edge in Ain's voice is infinitely familiar. The shape of the complaints is perfectly known. The exhausted bitterness of a soldier tired of being misused in a war is, apparently, universal.]
...hm.
[This hum is half consideration, half acknowledgement of partial understanding. It may, as many are, also be a bit of a placeholder as he nods abruptly down toward the end of the street where an Acta is hung.
They'll investigate, then continue mulling over the unseen hands of the generals meant to be directing their battles.]
[ A soldier has comrades, has those to die around him. An angel has only themselves. They'll live and die alone. Not that anyone will remember, though. There's still that lingering question in the back of his mind; if they'll still forget him when the time comes to die.
And the silence falls back around them like a curtain, the brush of a wing. Eventually the Acta on the road comes into view, gridded in neat lines of Latin and numbers. ]
I don't see anything.
[ Sounding it out both for himself and for Horatio's benefit. There's definitely months and dates, but where is the year? ]
[There's no harm, surely, in checking again. True, they're both staring at it, and true, they've both reached the same conclusion, but Horatio leans in all the same to scrutinize just a hair closer.
Not that it will make a difference. Giving up simply stings with a distinct ferocity he hates.
Amazingly, staring harder doesn't actually change the lack of a year on the document. His nose wrinkles briefly, in a thoughtless moment of comfort.]
[To be fair, he's been pulled here by some sort of magic. Some sort of gods have shown themselves to be real. The orderly world Horatio had been raised in on the edge of his father's surgery has already been more than upended by the fact they're here at all.
And yet this, apparently, is where something incredulous bleeds into Horatio's voice.]
[ Ain's voice has always been flat, but there's a firmness to it that indicates conviction. It's not impossible, and he's not seen any proof to the contrary... not that such proofs would be easy to come by, in any means. The gods have always been distant and he's starting to feel like he's involved in a civil war more than a clash between gods and demonkind. Not that it matters, though. The covenant is a covenant and he has to obey it.
It wouldn't be so different from the enchanted barrier around Elrianode that kept the Tower asleep for centuries. It's entirely possible. ]
Maybe it's to maintain a semblance of order. To protect the people here from some unimaginable, creeping terror.
[ The notion that one's life is meaningless and to be put at risk. Surely a human would feel despair upon knowing that they were just fodder and pieces in some greater game. Humans tend to feel like that... well, they wouldn't lose their bodies just by having that sort of feelings, of course. Ain can see where that would be inconvenient.
Or maybe he's just thinking too much, but since there's no reason to not believe in what might be a conspiracy theory, he'll just go ahead and believe in it. ]
[Humanity is, and has always been, a terribly odd thing. Despair and hope tended to live in exactly the same breath, separated by some odd razor's edge that one's own mind didn't fully understand.
Horatio's cheeks puff out thoughtfully for a moment, attention sweeping the Acta one more time. It won't have changed, but checking again for things one knows aren't there is another painfully human trait.]
What sort of terror comes from a year?
[The thought isn't a dismissive one. It's simply another push at the data and the hypothesis.
They won't get anywhere with all this magic and religion without the scientific process, surely.]
I don't know. From the realization that they're all destined to die, perhaps. Conflicts between gods tend to have heavy mortal casualties.
[ His voice returns to deadpan, though there's a drip of sarcasm in it. Once they wake up from an illusion, they start to question whether reality itself is real. Plenty of stuff he's seen especially in regions with large demon populations. ]
Don't suppose we can knock on a god's door and ask?
[ Wry as it is, it's the start of an idea that takes shape in his mind. Even if Ishmael would never speak to him, perhaps things are different here. It's... no, it's not hope. It's only tactical planning. An avenue for confirmation and analysis of potential failures. One must not harbour hope when dealing with the divine. ]
It seems like they are the best source of any answers we might need.
[Ain's right, of course. Whatever a body wanted to believe about all of this, from their odd arrival to the established presence of something claiming to be gods, there didn't seem to be much else to throw oneself at.
Thank goodness, at least, for not having to do it alone.]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2018-12-10 06:30 am (UTC)But he certainly can judge this one, and his soft tone takes on a firmer edge once the question is posed to him: ]
They're barely meeting the standard. At least they do something, but they're doing far from enough. This so-called war would be over much sooner if they gave us appropriate tools instead of leaving us muddling around like insects. We don't even have a sanctioned chain of command. If they're so lazy as to delegate all their tasks to mortals then they should kidnap their own people instead of irresponsibly swiping them from other worlds.
[ There's quite a lot of salt he has, exacerbated by the fact that he can actually feel said salt now rather than dealing with a wall of machine-like apathy.
Actually, it's touching a way darker thread of thought than he intended to, so let's not talk too much about that right now. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-11 12:36 pm (UTC)But the edge in Ain's voice is infinitely familiar. The shape of the complaints is perfectly known. The exhausted bitterness of a soldier tired of being misused in a war is, apparently, universal.]
...hm.
[This hum is half consideration, half acknowledgement of partial understanding. It may, as many are, also be a bit of a placeholder as he nods abruptly down toward the end of the street where an Acta is hung.
They'll investigate, then continue mulling over the unseen hands of the generals meant to be directing their battles.]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-15 01:54 pm (UTC)And the silence falls back around them like a curtain, the brush of a wing. Eventually the Acta on the road comes into view, gridded in neat lines of Latin and numbers. ]
I don't see anything.
[ Sounding it out both for himself and for Horatio's benefit. There's definitely months and dates, but where is the year? ]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-16 07:23 pm (UTC)[There's no harm, surely, in checking again. True, they're both staring at it, and true, they've both reached the same conclusion, but Horatio leans in all the same to scrutinize just a hair closer.
Not that it will make a difference. Giving up simply stings with a distinct ferocity he hates.
Amazingly, staring harder doesn't actually change the lack of a year on the document. His nose wrinkles briefly, in a thoughtless moment of comfort.]
And no one's-- said? When you've asked?
no subject
Date: 2018-12-17 03:35 pm (UTC)[ While maybe it is weird that one would ask what the current year is... he can't shake the nagging feeling that something is causing this change. ]
I think... maybe the people here are cursed. To forget the year. They are under a spell and so they cannot tell us because they don't know.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-19 02:01 am (UTC)[To be fair, he's been pulled here by some sort of magic. Some sort of gods have shown themselves to be real. The orderly world Horatio had been raised in on the edge of his father's surgery has already been more than upended by the fact they're here at all.
And yet this, apparently, is where something incredulous bleeds into Horatio's voice.]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-21 03:54 pm (UTC)[ Ain's voice has always been flat, but there's a firmness to it that indicates conviction. It's not impossible, and he's not seen any proof to the contrary... not that such proofs would be easy to come by, in any means. The gods have always been distant and he's starting to feel like he's involved in a civil war more than a clash between gods and demonkind. Not that it matters, though. The covenant is a covenant and he has to obey it.
It wouldn't be so different from the enchanted barrier around Elrianode that kept the Tower asleep for centuries. It's entirely possible. ]
Maybe it's to maintain a semblance of order. To protect the people here from some unimaginable, creeping terror.
[ The notion that one's life is meaningless and to be put at risk. Surely a human would feel despair upon knowing that they were just fodder and pieces in some greater game. Humans tend to feel like that... well, they wouldn't lose their bodies just by having that sort of feelings, of course. Ain can see where that would be inconvenient.
Or maybe he's just thinking too much, but since there's no reason to not believe in what might be a conspiracy theory, he'll just go ahead and believe in it. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-24 01:09 pm (UTC)Horatio's cheeks puff out thoughtfully for a moment, attention sweeping the Acta one more time. It won't have changed, but checking again for things one knows aren't there is another painfully human trait.]
What sort of terror comes from a year?
[The thought isn't a dismissive one. It's simply another push at the data and the hypothesis.
They won't get anywhere with all this magic and religion without the scientific process, surely.]
no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 01:15 pm (UTC)[ His voice returns to deadpan, though there's a drip of sarcasm in it. Once they wake up from an illusion, they start to question whether reality itself is real. Plenty of stuff he's seen especially in regions with large demon populations. ]
Don't suppose we can knock on a god's door and ask?
no subject
Date: 2018-12-30 04:47 pm (UTC)Nothing breeds natural sympathy quite like a mutual dryness in the face of the world.]
The altars are a bit like doors.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-01 11:36 am (UTC)[ Wry as it is, it's the start of an idea that takes shape in his mind. Even if Ishmael would never speak to him, perhaps things are different here. It's... no, it's not hope. It's only tactical planning. An avenue for confirmation and analysis of potential failures. One must not harbour hope when dealing with the divine. ]
It seems like they are the best source of any answers we might need.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-05 03:06 pm (UTC)[Ain's right, of course. Whatever a body wanted to believe about all of this, from their odd arrival to the established presence of something claiming to be gods, there didn't seem to be much else to throw oneself at.
Thank goodness, at least, for not having to do it alone.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-06 12:10 pm (UTC)Thanks. [ A pause as he looks down, figuring that he should clarify. ] For coming with me.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-11 01:17 am (UTC)--thank you for having me along.
[That's much more the direction thanks ought to be going.]