Felih regards them cautiously- almost warily. Many would happily attempt to claim the title Warrior of Light, either for fame or fortune, but...
"...may I see it?" he asks after a moment. He can't help but want to see for himself- if only because the aetherial mark rumored to be on the backs of the Warriors of Light is very hard to fake.
"...you may," they said after the shortest of pauses. Casually removing their shirt and tossing it aside, the Warrior of Light who only desired their own name back bared it. Turned away. Now, they were sure they'd be treated like a deity, like a hero.
Instead of like a person. But it was... fine. Really. They should appriciate it, right?
Felih is cautious, but stands slowly and goes to take a look, ears up and alert as he carefully examines the mark he finds on the stranger's back. He reaches out, fingers gently tracing over the pattern.
It's real.
He feels the aether, unique and potent, a mark granted by Hydaelyn herself...
His ears lower. "It really is you... but- but surely, there must be something to call you that isn't simply a title...?"
"...No. No name-- sounds right," they replied, after a moment. "But, ah - some people call me Light. But it--"
It's not theirs. It's not theirs, they don't know what theirs was but they want it back. After a moment, though, they smile again - turning back to face Felih. Though, as they shifted, Felih might feel something not there - fluff or scales or... well. Things not fitting this person, this one trying to play down what they were. "It's fine. So, about that settlement...?"
Felih seems unconvinced, still uneasy. "...isn't there something you want to be called?" he asks after a moment. Light doesn't seem quite right- and certainly wasn't likely their name, but... If the other insists, then Felih will have no choice but to call them by that name.
How does one handle a mythical hero, returned from parts unknown, memory lost? Was it the blast at Carteneau, mayhaps the floods of primal aether? Something or other had left marks and gaps in the hero's mind.
For a fleeting moment, he feels as if there are feathers brushing his skin- but he sees nothing, and lets the thought pass. The most important thing... let's get this person to safety.
"...yes, of course. Come with me- ah, are you certain you feel well? The way the aether moves around you..." he trails off. It's unnatural- not human, not quite, though it seems to try and mimic it. Intense, powerful, jumbled.
"...Do you think it is only the Six Races who sees the Warrior of Light as a hero?" they ask, slowly frowning. Though it was an answer, it was another question. After all, the Warrior of Light had a lot to understand - a lot more, if they wanted to explain.
Though it almost feels like another voice is whispering for a moment. A name. Cordis. It was not the man in front of him, though, as he slung his armour back on. "I don't know. It's common for them to see everybody as an enemy.
Especially since only a few can understand them - those blessed by our Mother. I hear it's more common in recent times..."
"Mayhaps," Felih responds simply. "But were you not friends also, of some of the peaceful beastmen tribes?" He never knows what is story and what isn't, but it's worth asking. "If you protect us all, you protect them as well- why would they not regard you as hero?"
"I know little of such blessings," Felih admits after a moment, though he unknowingly possesses a blessing of his own. "Here, let us talk as we go," he says, leading the hero onwards through the wilderness. The other's response only confuses him further- if there was a train of thought to connect his question to those answers, he does not understand it.
"Yes - let's," they said, seeming a little more cheerful - casually strolling, as if the world held no fear, except for what they held within.
"...And, uh, yeah. I am friends with them - and so, ah. Let's say they would wish to depict their lost warrior in art, and in stories. Would they show them as what they were? Or what they wanted them to be."
Felih hums. "I suppose it depends. Stories are oft exaggerated- this I know firsthand. Though they may have wanted to stay close to the truth, inevitably it may have morphed into something different over time," he responds, leading the way, still terribly curious.
The Warrior of Light- truly, it was them, right there beside him- and Felih had no clue how to interact with them. Should he be more humble, more respectful? Or should he be himself? Should he even be so casual with them?
Then again, Felih has never been the type to be too formal unless he has to be, so he shrugs it off and keeps walking.
"You seem concerned, by such things. What does it matter what they have made of you? In the end, you are still your own, and may be as you please."
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valoirs
no subject
"...may I see it?" he asks after a moment. He can't help but want to see for himself- if only because the aetherial mark rumored to be on the backs of the Warriors of Light is very hard to fake.
no subject
Instead of like a person. But it was... fine. Really. They should appriciate it, right?
no subject
It's real.
He feels the aether, unique and potent, a mark granted by Hydaelyn herself...
His ears lower. "It really is you... but- but surely, there must be something to call you that isn't simply a title...?"
no subject
It's not theirs. It's not theirs, they don't know what theirs was but they want it back. After a moment, though, they smile again - turning back to face Felih. Though, as they shifted, Felih might feel something not there - fluff or scales or... well. Things not fitting this person, this one trying to play down what they were. "It's fine. So, about that settlement...?"
no subject
How does one handle a mythical hero, returned from parts unknown, memory lost? Was it the blast at Carteneau, mayhaps the floods of primal aether? Something or other had left marks and gaps in the hero's mind.
For a fleeting moment, he feels as if there are feathers brushing his skin- but he sees nothing, and lets the thought pass. The most important thing... let's get this person to safety.
"...yes, of course. Come with me- ah, are you certain you feel well? The way the aether moves around you..." he trails off. It's unnatural- not human, not quite, though it seems to try and mimic it. Intense, powerful, jumbled.
no subject
Though it almost feels like another voice is whispering for a moment. A name. Cordis. It was not the man in front of him, though, as he slung his armour back on. "I don't know. It's common for them to see everybody as an enemy.
Especially since only a few can understand them - those blessed by our Mother. I hear it's more common in recent times..."
no subject
"I know little of such blessings," Felih admits after a moment, though he unknowingly possesses a blessing of his own. "Here, let us talk as we go," he says, leading the hero onwards through the wilderness. The other's response only confuses him further- if there was a train of thought to connect his question to those answers, he does not understand it.
no subject
"...And, uh, yeah. I am friends with them - and so, ah. Let's say they would wish to depict their lost warrior in art, and in stories. Would they show them as what they were? Or what they wanted them to be."
no subject
The Warrior of Light- truly, it was them, right there beside him- and Felih had no clue how to interact with them. Should he be more humble, more respectful? Or should he be himself? Should he even be so casual with them?
Then again, Felih has never been the type to be too formal unless he has to be, so he shrugs it off and keeps walking.
"You seem concerned, by such things. What does it matter what they have made of you? In the end, you are still your own, and may be as you please."