005 | Video

[clickclickbang]

Name: Prompto Argentum
Date: 2/8
Format: video

[In the background of this video, there's the (relatively) hushed sounds of a certain Sun King's voice, trying to get someone to stop and rest, as she should. He's being met with growls of "I'm busy!" along with some pots and pans clanging and chopping as she’s clearly trying to make Something. It might be a stew? There's still the remains of a varied breakfast and food packages that were just set on the table. Pointing this out does not appear to be much of a deterrent.

While all that’s going on, Prompto just sort of. Gives the camera a Look.]

So, I was going to let everyone know that hey, I'm back, Insomniac Delivery is back up and running, please do not try to eat my chocobo, photos will be back soonish, et cetera et cetera, but Caren dropped some interesting information at breakfast this morning and that takes priority. So.

[Pause for effect. An effect that is likely somewhat spoiled as more extreme measures of putting things on higher shelves is met with highly vocal protests decrying it as an unfair move.]

Apparently Dorchacht used to be a monster city.

[Yet another pause for further effect. And also a drink of coffee because boy, does Prompto need the (sugary, creamy, mostly everything but coffee) caffeine this morning.]

So, according to Caren's...contact? Before Drummond or whoever came around, witches lived in a separate part of the city because they were considered the dangerous ones. They said they treated the witches fairly and I'm pretty sure it'd be hard to treat people worse than how Dorch was when we got there, but, uh, maybe take that part with a grain of salt?

[And of course, in the midst of Prompto trying to explain, he’s interrupted by the menace in the background.]

This also could have been centuries ago so- no, I don't want tea. I don't feel like being drugged today, thank you!

That's not what-- [He lets it go. It's not that important right now. He plucks a ladle away from Caren.] It sounds as though they avoided the consequences of full moons without Bonds, but still engaging with one another.

[Prompto is just gonna ignore all that going on in the background. This is important. And also Ozy can handle Caren better than he can, let’s be real.]

They also told Caren about where Monsters and Witches came from, according to Dorchacht's lore, and what the Cwyld is...sort of. At least why it's a thing.

It's different from what they tell us here. According to their story, the Sisters freed the monsters from the True Fae and...Ozymandias! Don't put my knives there!

[And there she goes, back into the background. Specifically, onto the counter to save her knives. Her efforts are near-immediately spoiled as Ozymandias loops an arm around her middle and tosses her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.]

You're only going to confuse everyone worrying about something like that right now. If you’re not going to rest, at least focus. [He brings Caren back into view, setting her down, but keeping a firm arm wrapped around her. It would probably be a very nice hug under other circumstances.] What Caren was trying to say is that the True Fae then angered the Sisters by teaching humans magic. Thus, they created the Cwyld as punishment for their insolence.

Prompto, I trust you can manage from here. I'm going to remove the temptation to continue trying to cook.

[He barely waits for an answer before opting this time to at least princess carry Caren.

Prompto, meanwhile, stares in utter bafflement as they go off because that sure is a Witch princess carrying a freaking Chimera. Just for a moment, though, before he turns back to the watch.]

Yeah, what Ozy said. Anyway, uh. That was a lot, but there were other things Caren’s contact mentioned, but this is already pretty nuts so...any questions?

[[Prompto, Ozymandias, Caren. All three are available for questions!]]

Comments

[mensrea]

[ A long, pregnant pause. Then: slow clapping. ]

Wow, that was a really convincing delivery. Almost had me for a second there, dude. Hey, can you sing? Here, I’ll do Moses’ part, you do Ramesses’. “You who I called brother,” [ he begins, horribly offkey, ] “why must you call down another blow? Let my people goooooo!” Okay, your turn.

[ Don’t disappoint, Ozymandias! This is your time to shine. ]

[fulgency]

[It is much like a candle being blown out. It does not seem Ozymandias' overall good mood (Caren's refusal to rest notwithstanding) is likely to be under any sort of duress even as it flickers slightly over doubts of his identity. It is not such an uncommon thing for him to encounter at this point, so it is perhaps only mildly annoying at best. But he hears his brother's name and this boy begins to sing terribly and he says those words that wrought so much ill to Egypt, to Ramesses personally...]

[Little ever manages to bother Ozymandias. He makes exceptions and pardons others over mild offenses constantly. But this is not something he can merely look the other way over. It digs too deep underneath his skin, tears, and claws at old wounds and regrets. The grief over his son, over the loss of his brother... Ozymandias made his peace with it a long time ago, but accepting it is not the same thing as being entirely unaffected by it.]

[One might expect that this would spark something in Ozymandias' heart, but his anger, his rage at this mockery does not blaze. It is icy and cold, the only sounds after Stiles is through being the quiet creak of the watch as Ozymandias' grip tightens.]

[He has wished so desperately so many times to have his power restored to him since his arrival but never before has he felt such a need for them before now. There is simply no room in Ozymandias' heart or mind for forgiveness for the way this boy speaks. He cannot and will not excuse this with ignorance because that simply is not the case. If he knows enough to know those words, then he should know better.]

[Even if he doubts with whom he speaks, he should know better.]

[Before when speaking of the Rathmores, there was an edge to Ozymandias' voice. Now there is only the iciness of his rage.]

When it comes to disbelief over my identity, I have learned to tolerate this. It is not beyond my understanding that to some, the notion of meeting an ancient king is unfathomable. But what I shall never tolerate from anyone is mockery.

I shall be merciful this once, but if you choose to speak of me in that way again, I shall have your tongue. Speak of my brother in that manner, and I shall have your life.

[There is nothing in Ozymandias' tone to suggest that he is being anything less than serious right now.]

Do I make myself clear?

[mensrea]

[ At times, tone can be difficult to parse without the benefit of facial expressions to guide the intent of words. That is not the case now. Even across the city, even over the network, Stiles can sense the intensity of Ozymandias’ anger. Discomfort stirs in his breast as he listens to the response, eyebrows creased in bemusement. But then the threats come – and though his stomach clenches hard with legitimate fear, his own anger rises. Always, always people threatening him. ]

Excuse me? No, sorry, you’re not clear. You don’t get to throw around threats like that just because someone quoted lyrics from a DreamWorks movie at you. What the hell is wrong with you? I wasn’t mocking anyone.

[ Ozymandias’ claim is on the backburner of his thoughts; once his fury cools, he might be able to more rationally consider the possibility of Ramesses being present in Aefenglom. Acknowledgement of the man’s identity would do little to change the nature of his reply, however. After all the things that have happened back home, Stiles is past the point of God himself speaking to him like this. ]

[fulgency]

[His anger does not rise further with the appearance of Stiles' own. Even as he takes offense at what Ozymandias finds to be fair and natural consequences for such actions -- especially given his mercy in choosing not to take action now when it would be well within his right -- Ozymandias does not bristle further. His anger holds just where it is.]

No? [Ozymandias scoffs.] You clearly know of Moses, of what transpired between the two of us. So, let us reverse our positions.

It is your kingdom. Your wife. Your son. Your brother.

And knowing all that, I shall invite you to make a game of it and sing a little song. How shall you then take my words?

[mensrea]

Of course I know about Moses! Everyone on Earth knows his story.

[ Despite his protest, Stiles does pause to consider the hypothetical. If this is an act, Ozymandias is dedicated; the anger and outrage seem genuine. ]

I’d tell you off, [ he admits, defensive. ] But I wouldn’t threaten to kill some random guy over it!

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias knows well enough how far Moses' story spans the world or worlds similar to the one Ozymandias was summoned from. Quite frankly with how well known it is, it is somewhat of a surprise that Chaldea has not found a way to summon him. But it is better that they are unable. As much as Ozymandias longs to see his brother and his most beloved of his wives, he would rather it be under other circumstances than this sort of existence.]

[Otherwise, he would prefer to remain on this path alone.]

I am a god, boy. My words are not threats. They are divine judgment.

[Ozymandias' offense does not diminish, but some of the cold bite of his anger does. Not because he's exactly offering forgiveness to Stiles for his misstep, but because it is difficult to hold onto such anger when speaking of Moses in this way.]

There are few that I would ever consider my equal, but Moses is one such person. Had he not been born a Hebrew or perhaps if he had been the eldest, he would have made a fine pharaoh. [Perhaps even greater than Ramesses, though he keeps that to himself.] His ambitions were noble. Saintly even. Egypt would have been led to greatness under his rule.

But regardless of what could have been, he shall always be my brother. It was he who believed in me as pharaoh and even as we found ourselves as enemies for a time because of the demands of his God, his belief in my reign did not waver.

[Even when Moses had every right to despise Ramesses, to think ill of him, he did not. He still believed in his brother's ability to rule as a great leader, to be the greatest of pharaohs that ever was or would be. To hold such compassion... Not even Ramesses was truly capable of that himself, not immediately after the death of his son, and it is something that brings him shame and regret.]

That is why I shall not tolerate anything less than the utmost respect for him and speaking of him in any manner than less what he deserves, trivializing what transpired, will earn the greatest punishment.

[mensrea]

[ While history has never been a particular strong suit of Stiles’, ancient history is at least of more interest to him than modern. So, he listens with begrudging curiosity as Ozymandias speaks, even writing down certain details in his notebook. It becomes more and more believable with each passing word that Ozymandias is truly Ramesses, which suddenly throws his previous conversation with a “Marie Antionette” imposter into question. Jesus Christ. ]

Were a god, [ he corrects tightly, pausing in his note-taking. ] If you’re actually who you claim to be? Fine. I can get how what I said would piss you off. But you have no divinity here. And even if you did, it means nothing to me.

[ If Ozymandias hurt or even killed Stiles, it would just be another example of an asshole with too much power bullying the weak. There’s nothing divine in that, to Stiles. ]

Moses never existed on my version of Earth. He’s a spiritual mythological figure, who lives only in religious sermons and animated stories sold to children for a pretty profit. Which is where the song comes from.

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias draws a breath; his next exhale is slow. Whether Stiles realizes it or not, he is going a decent amount of the way there to defusing this situation. Ozymandias' temper begins to wane considerably as Stiles appears to yield. Even if it's not exactly a request for forgiveness, Ozymandias makes a conscious decision to extend it to him beyond his earlier mercy. Despite all his denial of Ozymandias' divinity, which he addresses first.]

This world has taken from me, I will grant you that. I am quite displeased with this form. It is even more imperfect than even the form in which I had been summoned into my own world. And judging from your perspective, I would guess that you are likely from an era millennia after mine. I know well enough that the modern era also rarely acknowledges the gods and that their existence is treated more fiction than fact.

But neither this world nor you are capable of unmaking me.

Deny me all you like, boy, in whatever ways you believe you can. No matter what form I take, I shall always be who and what I am.

[He had explained it once before when he first arrived. Much like the heavenly bodies above, his position and power may shift with each form, but his light shall always shine. A sun shall always be a sun.]

But regardless of whether you choose to remain so ignorant on that fact is neither here nor there.

[He pauses a moment as he returns to more of the original point, now that he has simmered back down from his anger.]

I do not apologize for my judgment for that is absolute, [and if Stiles had genuinely meant to be offensive, it's not like Ozymandias would have a half-measured reaction] but I do apologize for reaching it so swiftly. I acted rashly in the defense of my noble brother, which was not something you deserved. In that regard, I was unfair to you.

Knowing of his... [There really seems to be no suitable word to describe what Stiles just explained. Especially not in comparison to what Ramesses knows of Moses.] ..."legacy" in your world, I understand why you would assume your words to be inoffensive.

[mensrea]

[ Bingo. If Ozymandias had been “summoned” into his own world, he must be another Heroic Spirit like Marie. Stiles flops backward onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling in dull incredulity. There’s so much to unpack here. Does this mean that she was telling the truth about who she is? It can’t be. He saw the selfies that she uploaded to the network; sure, his French history may need a brush up, but Stiles is fairly confident that’s not what Marie Antionette looked like. Then again, since different versions of Earth exist, maybe it’s possible that different versions of historical figures exist too. Man, this is making his head hurt. ]

Apology accepted, [ he says automatically, even if he doesn’t quite mean it; Stiles is unable to accept the idea that any judgment is absolute, and especially not from someone who hasn’t proven themselves to him. ] I won’t bring up that song again.

[ Even though it’s really catchy. ]

Dude – uh, Ozymandias, I mean – you’re a Heroic Spirit, right?

[fulgency]

[Were there fewer Heroic Spirits within the city, it might be more of a mystery as to how exactly Stiles arrived at that conclusion when they are clearly from such distinct and separate worlds. But the question, while a bit surprising, doesn't totally mystify Ozymandias. It's clear that Stiles has been speaking to another Servant. Perhaps one of the Masters, but it seems unlikely they would mention Servants without a specific need. And with no Holy Grail to fight over, what need is there?]

I am. [The better question compared to asking how he came to that conclusion is instead,] Why do you ask?

[mensrea]

[ There’s an indiscernible mutter away from the comm watch’s microphone as Stiles expresses his disbelief with a curse. So, it’s true. Holy shit, it’s really true. ]

It just…makes it easier to believe you, I guess. Since you’re not the first person who’s claimed to be someone impossible.

[ And with more reason to believe Ozymandias, Stiles is struck by the desire to ask certain questions – questions that would absolutely piss the man off. For once in his life, he manages to restrain himself. ]

Alright. This has been fun, but I should probably let you go.