Search for the Truth

by RangerOfRhudaur

The Storyteller - Zephyr Breeze II

He's on the edge of the cliff again, a void yawning before him.

Behind him, he hears the chattering of teeth and bones and the hissing of serpentine voices. He turns back, and sees a horde of monsters and failures racing towards him, the Winter Wolf who slew his dreams leading the charge.

He knows he can't outrun the horde, and unarmed as he is he can't fight them, either. He's too slow, too weak, too much of a failure; he has nothing to draw on, no gifts to help him survive. There's only one hope.

Desperately, he turns back to the abyss, bends his knees, and leaps-

-right into the face of Sonata, shaking him awake.

She yelped as she jumped back, rubbing her nose gingerly. "Wow," she giggled after a moment. "Guess you really were eager to get up."

"Sorry," he apologized. "I was dreaming, and I guess my brain didn't manage to tell my body it wasn't dreaming anymore in time to stop the jump."

"Well, wake up," Aria snapped, drawing his attention. "Sonata said you wanted to talk to me, and I don't feel like trying to talk with someone half-dreaming."

The last grogginess of sleep leaving him, melting away beneath her acid voice. He nodded and stood up, nervously brushing himself off as Sonata lay down and closed her eyes. He opened his mouth, preparing to speak, but felt the words die in his throat as he met Aria's gaze. Her eyes burned stern and cold and angry, but above all they burned weary, tired in body and soul.

His grand speech dying unspoken, he found himself croaking, "What does it mean to be a Circenican?"

Aria's eyebrow rose. "Is that it? The way Sonata was acting, I thought you were going to ask me something important."

"It is important," he replied. "As important as you knowing where you want to take us." If I'm right, however unlikely that may be, they might be one and the same.

Aria rolled her eyes, but answered, "Adagio was basically the ideal Circenican. If you want to know what being a Circenican means, just ask yourself 'What would Adagio do?', and try not to throw up at the answer."

"Just like you had to try not to?" he whispered.

Her gaze hardened and bored into him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He licked his lips. "'Adagio lied.' You told Sonata that, earlier. That's not what you meant, though, is it? It's not Adagio that lied, it's Charybdis, the society that told you what being a Circenican means. And you know that; you know that the stories it told you are lies. But more than that, you know that they're wrong, that holding minions isn't just incorrect, it's bad. You-"

Her hand flew over his mouth. "Not here," she hissed. "Not where Sonata can hear."

Flicking a glance at her sister on the ground, he nodded, then bit back a squeak as she dragged him out of camp. Once they were out of immediate earshot, she released him and snarked, "Yeah, I think that holding minions is a bad thing, have thought so for a while. Why do you care?"

"Because it tells me that Sonata's right," he replied. "You don't want to be a monster."

She snorted. "Did you hear any argument from me when shorty called me one?"

"That was because you think you are one," he argued. "You think you are, you don't want to be, and you don't know how not to be one. I know that the stories I was told are wrong, that they don't teach me how to be a hero, but you, you know that the stories Charybdis told you, that Adagio lived, are worse; it's not just that they don't teach you how to be a hero, they teach you how to be a monster instead. Some of them do, at least, which is even worse; if it were all of them, you'd have at least an idea of how not to be a monster, namely doing the opposite of what the stories said. You know that holding minions is wrong, but was trying to conquer here? Was not seeking vengeance after sister and the others defeated you?" He swallowed. "Was killing Adagio?"

"Don't you dare," Aria seethed. "She would rather have died than live like that, I know it."

"But the doubts don't," he whispered. "The doubts and fears-"

"A Siren knows no fear," Aria snapped.

"Adagio said that, I'm guessing," he replied. "Like you said, Adagio lied."

Her blade sang into her hand. "What do you want?" she snarled. "Why did you want to talk with me?"

"To tell you that I understand," he answered. "I understand why you're so angry, I understand why you're frustrated, I understand why you're so confused, I understand you. You're lost because you know that Charybdis' stories are wrong, but you don't have any other stories to follow, and you want there to be a story."

"Why are you so obsessed with stories?" she scoffed. "They're just-"

"-stories, I know," his momentum carried him over her words. "Words strung together in a certain order. But there's more to them than that, more to them than simple entertainment. There are silent words that surround every story, ones that tell us more than just a tale. Stories tell us about the people who tell them, about the societies that make them up; stories from Cloudsdale tell people to be brave and strong, stories from Castellot tell people to be wise, stories from Charybdis tell people what it means to be a Siren. Adagio learned what Charybdis thought was heroic, good, from its stories and made herself like that; the stories told her what the Siren thing to do was, and she did it. A story isn't just words on paper or lips, a story is a statement about good and evil, however indirectly it might make that statement. A hero tells you what's right, a villain tells you what's wrong, 'happily ever after' tells you what's worth fighting for. Without story, we don't know that; if you haven't heard what's heroic or villainous, how can you know good and evil, what to do and what not to do? Without story, without the values it teaches you," his hands fell to his side. "how can you tell what's worth it? Without story, you get me," he pointed accusingly at himself. "Someone too afraid to say something's right or wrong, good or bad, should be or shouldn't be done. Without story, you get... Nothing, emptiness, void. Without story..." His hands fell again. "... you get me."

Silence. Then, almost too quiet to hear, "How can you tell which stories are true? How can you decide which ones to listen to?"

He smiled sadly at her. "Let me know if you figure that out. I've been wondering about it myself."

"Then how do you know that there are any true ones?" her voice rose.

"There's always a best way," he replied. "Even if there's no meaning to the world, there will still be a path that gets you the most rewards for the lowest cost, even if that path is only 'do whatever works.' So long as actions lead to outcomes, there will be plans of action for the future, and there will be stories told about those actions and their consequences. If I can jump," he hopped up before falling back to the ground. "and that jump lifts me up, I'll either plan to jump or not jump in the future, and, more importantly, I'll tell stories about what happens after I jump, whether I fly or fall into the abyss."

"And you can't tell," she grumbled. "whether it's true or not."

"Sometimes, like for my stories about jumping," he replied with a shrug. "the world tells me whether it's true or not, other times instinct or thought or emotion does. But most of the time, yes, I can't tell whether a story's true or not. All I can do is guess and hope, and my life has taught me that I'm a very bad guesser. I don't know which stories are true, and finding out which ones are wrong is too hard for me. I proved that one was wrong in the past and it almost destroyed me; I can't make a leap of faith like that again, not when I can't trust stories not to drop me again. You, though," he looked up at her with a smile. "you're different, you're strong enough to make those leaps. Aria, you're right, Adagio lied, Charybdis lied, the stories you were told lied, and you don't have to listen to them anymore. You can listen to other stories, try to find other, better ideals, you..." He swallowed. "... you can find a way to not be a monster."

Silence fell. Her fist clenched and unclenched, her fingers gnarling and slacking around the dagger. Shapeless sounds came from her mouth, while a hundred emotions glittered in her eyes. Eventually, she sighed, then said, "Go get some sleep, Zephyr: we've got ground to cover tomorrow, and you can't half-sleep like we can."

Oh, he thought with a glance back to camp, That would explain why she wanted to get away from Sonata. "Good night, Aria," he gave a gentle bow. "Please, think about-"

"I am," she grit her teeth. "I am giving it very, very much thought, trust me. What you said..." She sighed, then looked wearily at him. "... A Siren knows no fear, no anxiety, and no doubt. Adagio taught me that when I was... back when we lived in Charybdis. She told me that every chance she got."

He nodded. "And she lied."

"She lied," she nodded. "She lied, and now I have to pick up the pieces."

He nodded; like he'd told her earlier, he understood.

Aria looked down at the ground, clearly deep in thought. Dipping his head in farewell, he prepared to head back to camp, but stopped at a murmured order from Aria. "One last question," she asked. "What story did you learn was wrong?"

"The Tale of Nightingale," he replied. "One of the characters in it, Fylakundu, was my idol growing up. I wanted to be just like him. Then I told mother that, and she sat me down, taught me that he was just a character in a story, and shattered me forever. If not even the great hero Fylakundu could teach me how to be good, who could? If my idol was false, then everything I wanted to be was false. I don't aspire to anything because Fylakundu taught me that my aspirations led me into the abyss; the best I can ever hope to be is someone like Miss Tiara's pack mule, helping them do good by using me like a puppet."

She nodded, then waved him away, and he returned to the campsite, crawling back into his sleeping bag and...

... he's on the edge of the cliff again, but this time he's not alone.

Aria's standing there with him, looking wistfully down into the abyss before them, the abyss he'd just helped her climb out of. "There's nothing for you down there," he'd said as he'd stretched out his hand to help her out. "and no reason you need to stay there."

Now, two stand on the edge of the void, while the chattering and howling of the horde of death draws ever nearer, the Winter Wolf baying in the lead.

Aria glares at the wolf, and then at him. "There's nothing for you here," she says. "and no reason you need to stay."

"I can't go," he shakes his head sadly. "I know I can't fly."

"That's the story you tell yourself," she snaps back. "How do you know it's true?"

"My life," he replies, showing her his history. "It's all the proof it could ever need."

Then she shows him her sister's history and curtly says, "Adagio's life was all the proof Charybdis' stories could ever need."

He bites his lip, then looks down into the abyss. "But what if I fall?"

She stretches her hand out to him. "What if you fly?"

The Winter Wolf is barely a breath away, a breath swallowed up by the endless void beneath the cliff.

He takes her hand, bends his knees, and leaps.

Comments

[Eroraf86]

Huh. The loser understands the monster, and each pulls the other out of their respective abyss.

What the heck, I'll ship it.

[RangerOfRhudaur]

11052078
They've begun pulling each other out, but they're not all the way out yet. Aria understands what she was doing wrong, not what she needs to do right, and Zephyr's only beginning to understand that he himself can do right at all.

Also, yes, they have proved surprisingly shippable as I've written this.

[FanOfMostEverything]

If there’s anyone in all the multiverse who can understand how it feels to be aimless, shiftless, and helpless, it’s Zephyr Breeze. Sometimes it just be comforting to know that you’re not the only one who’s lost and wandering. Learning that you’re the one who has to blaze the new trail can be absolutely terrifying. But a Siren knows no fear, and a fool holds no convictions. Between the two of them, there’s nothing they can’t question in their quest for meaning. Their mission to find a story they can believe in.

Their search for truth.

[RangerOfRhudaur]

11053159
While writing this, I realized that Aria actually made an ideal foil for Zephyr; he thought that, because the stories he most identified with weren't real, he himself was wrong, pathetic, useless, unable to live up to whatever ideals actually existed. Aria, on the other hand, thought that because the stories she most identified with weren't real that meant that there was no truth, no ideals, nothing except the rule of the strong and whatever the stories taught that actually worked. Both experienced a test of faith in the past, but where Zephyr thought that it meant that something was wrong with him, Aria thought it meant that something was wrong with the world.

This is great, because it not only means that Zephyr can further his arc, but also that, in doing so, he can help Aria further hers; Zephyr learns from Aria as she learns from him, the loser and monster each helping the other see that they don't have to be those things. Like Zephyr dreamt at the end,

He takes her hand, bends his knees, and leaps.