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[midship]

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sometime 17th

[befreiung]

[ It's a rather windy day that finds the two of them this morning. The breeze shuffled through Ain's room and imparted a sufficient chill to wake him up early - unable to fall asleep again, he's headed downstairs to the courtyard and lingers around the fountain. He's elected to tie up his hair using a strip of cloth so that his locks don't fall into disarray by the wind's effects.

Once Horatio comes down, he quickly moves to within speaking distance, a slight undertone of curiosity in his voice ]

I was wondering....... does Rome have a calendar for years?

[midship]

[Nights have always been bad. It's still possible that nights are beginning to get worse.

In fairness, Horatio does do his utmost to stay settled in his room as long as is humanly possible. He does force himself to lie still, mindful of the admonitions he now regularly received without coffee to best mask his general insomniac cycle. That, as much as anything, makes it feel like he's started the day with a minor victory when padding down the stairs reveals someone else already milling about the courtyard.

Another small victory that it's Ain doing the milling. Another still that the brief friendly quirk of his lips feels almost like a natural thing, and perhaps a third that Ain seems happy enough to meet him half-way.

Best, of course, is the question itself. Horatio needs half a beat to blink the last tendrils of restlessness from his mind, pulling back through to memories of his years as a Grecian.]

It does. Although-- [His brow wrinkles thoughtfully, sorting through the various strands of his lessons.] --it changed a few times, I believe, through from the original Etruscan version.

[befreiung]

[ Ain lucked out with the voices that haunt the Chosen this month. All he hears is the faint voice of his creator; and since she cannot possibly be here, he has accepted it as an illusion. In some ways it is no different from the voice of ruin that speaks from the depths of the void, and he's grown familiar with that. A shadow of his curse, the only clear thing amidst a sea of perceptions gone dull.

Since there's much that he still needs to learn about Rome, it's become natural for him to ask those who would entertain his questions. Today's query is one that's weighed on his mind ever since he's begun comparing this world to the one he came from. ]

I see...

[ Evolution. Granted if so many years have passed. Though... ]

I haven't seen a year around. You know... they have calendars outside, I passed one. There's a month and day, but no year.

[midship]

[...well. That is odd.

Not something Horatio felt terribly worried by, for better or worse; being hundreds of years removed from his own sense of reality had decreased the premium on determining exactly when they were. Too many other bits and pieces needed to be picked and sorted through.

It's incredibly strange, though, now that his attention's been called to it.]

...what about on buildings?

[befreiung]

[ Ain shakes his head again, looking an inch to Horatio's left for a moment before refocusing his gaze again. ]

Not either. I tried to ask a native, but they wouldn't tell me....

[ He waits to see if the other man will have some sort of reaction. ]

[midship]

[That's more than odd. That's downright incredibly confusing.]

What, not at all?

[The words carry the cadence of a question, but Horatio's gaze is flitting away with a bit of a thoughtful frown to file lightly through his own recollections of the last few weeks. Had there been any dates extending to years? Had there been any notations in the pages he'd been copying from the library? Had there even been much discussion of any events that might give a hint as to precisely when they were?]

Hm.

[By now, Horatio suspects he doesn't really need to fill the silences with Ain. There's something quietly sympathetic that tends to settle into the air while they each fall back on their own quiet processing, most of the time. It's just that this is a terribly confusing fact to be confronted with, and old habits are comforting in the face of new messes.]

We ought to find the Acta.

[befreiung]

What's that?

[ Not something he's encountered throughout his investigations in Rome, but then again he's hardly looked through any significant portion of it. There is an explanation that he can draw up, though it's not one that will be confirmed even vaguely unless they receive direct affirmation from the gods themselves.

Though, he doesn't seem too bothered about it, despite the empty quality of his countenance. It seems just a fact to him, something to be processed ]

[midship]

Daily records. [His attention lingers in the middle distance, tracking through the mental map Horatio had been attempting to build of the city beyond the complex.] Publicly maintained.

[Finally his attention comes snapping back to Ain. Eye contact always helps when bobbing one's head in an attempt at giving directions. This time, it's a nod along toward the entrance to the courtyard--with the barest flickering glance spared for Mercury's insula.]

Might have a date, or-- more likely, something telling. A general's name or-- a line of advancement.

[Something that might still ring a bell from an education centuries after the fact.]

[befreiung]

[ So, something like calendars. More primitive than the data networks of the Ponggos, comparable to the scribes used by the lizardmen. It would be reasonable to expect something similar to exist here. It's probably an oversight on his part to not notice it, after being so preoccupied with the search for a proper calendar.

But then again, it brings to mind a vision he had glimpsed long ago at night, trapped within the shell of his own spirit form. A sign from the void - it had faded back into the fogginess of a dream, back then. But after being freed from his curse, he's able to remember it more clearly and he can't help but draw some connection. ]

You think this is the same world as the one you came from, just in the past?

[ A confirmatory question, painted with a tilt of his head. ]

[midship]

[This is a good little hunt to be on first thing in the morning. This is a piece of something larger and infinitely useful, but this is also the sort of thing that might be accomplished in its component piece before the day has grown much older.

They'll peel carefully through the city for a bit. They'll focus on the discrete task of finding the Acta and trying to pinpoint themselves in time. They'll bring that back with them to mull over once it's accomplished.

And, as they walk, they'll apparently mull something broader.] Largely. [Horatio's own head bobbles slightly in further consideration.] The palpable presence of the gods is-- distinct.

[befreiung]

[ It puts Ain ill at ease to be idle, so Horatio's suggestion is eagerly taken up with silent assent. Walking, thinking, moving - the more he does, the less he'll have to think about o͔͔̥̯͇t̢͙͚̻h͜e̹r̘͓̣ ̡̼ṯ͉͈h̳̼͙̺̮̩̥i̜̺̫̝̞͢n͏g̗͙s͡ less savoury. ]

I didn't expect them to intervene directly. Or... show their faces, even.

[ He's mentioned the same thing to Daud before. The differences are making him suspect they've landed in another timeline divergence. ]

The ones I've dealt with, they stay in Heaven without looking down.

[midship]

[Thank goodness there's no need to explain the need to keep moving. Thank goodness for something to do to immediately clear the mind of the night before. ]

I've never been-- entirely certain the ones I've dealt with are real.

[It had been easy enough to believe when he was young, but every passing year had made things a little more difficult. Finch had made things a little more difficult.]

Other than that, it's-- largely what I would have expected.

[befreiung]

[ To Ain, it's not a question of whether gods existed. It's a matter of what they choose to put their time into. ]

They definitely exist in every world. The difference is in whether they care about mortals.

[ And from the slight whisper of bitterness underlying his voice, it's easy to guess that Ain's perception of that difference is negative. ]

[midship]

[The premise is certainly easier to accept now than it would have been a month before. Horatio will have to turn it over a few times in his mind, with Ain and without Ain and likely with Ain again, but that's usually how new ideas go.

They get turned and tested and turned. They evolve and shatter and evolve again. No amount of shifting through time and space could change that.]

How... do you know? How much they care?

[befreiung]

[ For him, he's just reciting what he knows. Rote that has been written into his memory in his short few years of existence. Faith was his biggest strength; put one crack in it and everything comes crumbling down. ]

It's how much they intervene in human affairs. If they don't care, they leave mortals to fight amongst themselves, bicker, and die.

[ And their agents too. ]

[midship]

What's an intervention, then?

[There were claims, after all, and stories that had been passed down since--well. Since at least the times the Chosen might well be in now. There were miracles and revelations and messiahs and little parish priests who claimed to feel God's touch on the first warm day of spring. There were men like Finch, good and honest as anything, very likely a bit battered in the head.]

Rather than luck?

[befreiung]

[ Ain eyes Horatio a little, though his gaze says more of thinking than doubt. How best to convey this to a man who has never actually seen a god before... he has to think. ]

In my world, the work of the gods was indisputable. They used magic to turn wastelands into springs for humans to live in. The goddess possesses human women to keep the life of the world stable. If you were there to see it in person, you would be convinced. No human can use that sort of magic or power.

[ She is also the reason for his existence but that's something for another day ]

[midship]

[There were stories back home, of course. They were written up and passed down and repeated all over the world.

But even the most zealous had never sounded quite like Ain. There's believing and then there's seeing.]

Hm. [Perhaps Horatio had simply never seen it. Perhaps it had never been there to see, in his own world.] What do you think about the lot we have here, then?

[befreiung]

[ 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. ]

[midship]

[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.]

[befreiung]

[ 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? ]

[midship]

Mm...

[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?

[befreiung]

I tried to ask. They looked at me funny and walked away.

[ 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.

[midship]

Cursed?

[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.]

[befreiung]

Cursed.

[ 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. ]