#warriors of Light nonsense and the Exarch being too selfless

[snow-system-wol]

Part I of the end of 5.3 (stories before Faded Memories)

Ao3

(mild body horror / injury a la one Exarch)

S'ria never wanted to be special, not really. But he'd long since accepted that he'd become someone of note. Hells, he'd been someone of note back when he'd merely killed a few gods. Now he was something else entirely. S'ria was not even wholly sure that he was just a mortal man anymore. He'd never asked for that, though. 

So it was not jealousy or resentment that caused him to watch the activities of the newly minted “Warriors of Light” with ever-narrowing eyes. It was nothing like being upset that he was not the only one with the Echo either – he held little fondness for that “gift” at times. No, it was a number of things, really. 

Firstly, the nature of his role in all this, being firmly placed on a pedestal. Only, before it'd only really ever been kids who say they want to be like him and beg S'ria to explain how. That wasn't difficult, even if he considered himself somewhat mediocre with children compared to Menphina. As eager as they are, telling them to train hard and grow up strong – not that they need to be an adult, careful phrasing to avoid patronizing them, but that they'll need to be physically grown up to be their strongest. That was always enough to keep the dream intact while keeping them safe.

These were not children, though, and no simple excuses would get far. Since they weren't children, S'ria didn't need to sugarcoat it, but he just…couldn't bring himself to say what he was thinking.

It positively radiated some form of hypocrisy and superiority, should he do anything as blunt as insisting that they were not strong enough to partake in the trials he himself had undergone – but neither did he want these well-meaning people to die needlessly. Was it arrogant to say such a thing if it was, unfortunately, true?

(There was also the fact that doing anything to turn the people against S'ria felt like it would drive them further into Elidibus’s arms.)

That was not the only cause for concern or annoyance on S'ria's part, unfortunately. It was really everything else about the situation too, watching the Exarch try to diplomatically plead for anyone to stay, just long enough to figure out a long-term solution to keep the Crystarium functioning. It needed guards, medics, craftspeople, and more, or all of that carefully built city planning would collapse.

It bothered S'ria how short-sighted many of them were in their excitement.

S'ria was one to talk, sure, with how he'd long eschewed any attempt at normal civilian life in favor of a roaming hero's life – but that hadn't really been his choice, getting in too deep before he knew it. He just knew he was needed more elsewhere than any simple job. Arrogant as he worried that thought may be, S'ria knew it was fully accurate, just as he knew no one would ever leave him alone if he decided to try to quit. 

But these people, they were needed here, and it was so odd to hear them excitedly ramble about the good they could do elsewhere – proclaiming a willingness to look for any helpful scrap of a task, when the idea of more concretely staying to guard the city suddenly seemed too banal.

S'ria was not unkind to their faces, though. What would that accomplish?

S'ria did not realize for quite some time the full reasoning behind the majority of his resentment and frustration. It was about G'raha, really, not about himself. Of course, S'ria was free to have his own reaction to people trying to follow his path, but mostly S'ria was just angry because G'raha wasn't.

The Exarch was doing his best to gently keep essential roles filled, but he still wished those who insisted on leaving well and even encouraged S'ria to do the same. S'ria could not fathom looking the Exarch in the eyes as he tells you to please wait, that you are needed here for now, and then bluntly refusing. How could they refuse him? 

There was no such thing as a debt to one who gives aid freely with no desire for compensation, and certainly G'raha would not consider his people beholden to anything, but S'ria couldn't quite agree with that. Not when The Exarch had fully intended for his attempt at saving multiple worlds to be fatal.

For the man who spent most of his life building and governing a safe haven against the apocalypse, and gave nearly his all to avert the end… he was owed more than this.

He gave them a home and made the world safe for them. The least they could do is make sure that home remains whole and healthy, for at least longer than a moon or two after the crisis had been averted?

Even if G'raha hadn't wanted it, S'ria had thought the people of the Crystarium venerated The Exarch far more than such a response would suggest. 

The children were quite all right, harmless and eager and not yet ready to leave home, but if one more adult came up to ask him for tips on how to leave on their journey, S'ria was going to quite bluntly tell them to stay put.

 ----------

Of course S'ria noticed. It wasn't as though The Exarch could really hide what was happening. His eyes locked onto the Exarch's arm the moment Elidibus left, and it was awful. He had only been away for, what, a few suns since he'd last since seen the Exarch? How could things have progressed so quickly?

What was he even doing to himself during their “research”, really?

S'ria was so used to seeing the Exarch's crystalized arm, whole and clean and smooth, that he often forgot that it had once been flesh. The other side, though… some flesh still remained, so it was impossible to forget.

Patches of skin were still visible, especially on his hand and fingers, the transition between the two a raw edge on some parts and an almost necrosis-line creep on others. It had to hurt. S'ria couldn't imagine he was even able to so much as move his fingers without the fresh crystal shifting in painful ways, cutting into his fingers if he curled his hand closed.

G'raha immediately turned and tucked his arm behind his back, as if such a thing would make S'ria forget what he saw. A part of S'ria wanted to grab the Exarch and turn him – while an opposing part of S'ria was afraid to touch him at all. Instead he met the Exarch's eyes with a look that fell in-between glaring and raw concern. The Exarch relented and drew his arm back into view.

It, of course, looked no different than what S'ria had seen a moment prior. He opened his mouth and was completely at a loss for what to say about it.

The Exarch somewhat awkwardly cleared his throat, glancing at his arm as if surprised to see how it looked. “Oh, this… This is my own doing – the consequence of my recent exertions.” A strange look fell over his face, oddly exhausted. “It is the tower's way of…compensating me for the demands I have placed on it.”

“Compensating.” S'ria repeated it in a dull echo. “Is it …punishing you, for your research?”

The Exarch quickly shook his head. “Nothing so sentient, really. ‘Tis a simple trade – its power to aid you all in exchange for me giving more of my body.”

It was not the best way it could've been phrased, not with S'ria. A body wasn't just some currency to barter with. He pushed back his initial response in favor of a more gently asked question. 

“... Does it really not bother you?”

The Exarch tilted his head as if confused. “What an odd thing to ask… What bothers me is the fact that your friends are rapidly destabilizing and yet I am being forced to take a break at present. I intend to use everything at my disposal to help undo my summonings, and this is included.”

He looked far more content with his current state of affairs than he had any right to – not when S'ria had more to say about it. 

Or, at least, he thought he did, but when he went to speak, the urge to tell G'raha to stop was halted by a reminder of the very real impending death of the other Scions’ physical bodies. He remembered touching Alphinaud's physical form, cold and still and nearly bereft of breath nor heartbeat. He gritted his teeth and tried to come up with something else to say, a different protest. 

“G'raha, that's –”.

The sound of feet pounding their way up the stairs beneath them made S'ria cut off abruptly. A moment later, a rather winded Ryne appeared and frantically told them of Thancred's collapse. The Exarch locked eyes with S'ria, a pleading expression that begged S'ria not to argue with him, and all S'ria could do was sigh and hurry down the stairs after Ryne.