Characters involved are: Midori (RED), Hyuga (ORANGE),
Logged by Midori

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Khiea's Dream: The Silence of the Seas
The oceans are ever in motion. Even when the surface of the seas are as smooth as glass, the aquatic skin separating air from water and keeping the two in perfect order... even then, undercurrents swell. Running dark and cold at times, the ocean changes its coat on accord to the sky above, reacting in perfect harmonies. And this far from land, the only sound for miles around are the faint sighs of seagulls, and the waves... tossing eternally...
Exits: <W>est, <E>ast, or <swim>
Contents:
Hyuga

So it is to be water. So it is to be the sea--and how appropriate a setting it is, not only for the fact that here is the heart of the dreamers in chaos, but also for the very real fact of how easily the Nightmare King may reach forth through it to those who fear this force of nature. In these tides do sleepers toss and turn. Hyuga hovers far above the surface which broils with the energies below, his hair whipped back and forth in a frenzy which he ignores as he frowns in concentration and searches outwards with his mind. Water. Death. Him. Vexed for a moment by the sheer number of sleepers whose thoughts flow through these tides, the man forces a parting between them by dragging darker currents up from below. They run cold, and they run of fear and panic. Let those who have true terror be seperated through that from those merely floating through, and by this may he find his daughter. It is a guess on his part that this is the particular way by which he may search her out. But it is a terribly, terribly appropriate one.
A shimmering, and a tiny presence breaks the surface. A gentle awakening to this reality this time, the sleep untroubled and unforced, fro now. The tiny curled form of Midori appears above the waves, not yet conscious to this world. The vague nuance of what is happening is only filtering through now, as she reaches the dream stage, rising from the water, and remaining curled up, not yet opening herself to whatever it is outside her little circle of protection. Even if that last dream was not the nightmare she had expected, she is still on defence, as all scared little girls should. Check under the bad for monsters. Check the closet for bogey men. Well, now she chacks her dream for the same. It is another routine, and Midori rmains perfectly still, rising to the top.
Is that her? Or is it only a product of his own wishful thinking--as the Guardian would so very much like to call the girl's brief encounter with Citan, but dares not without further information. Let him be certain, shall he? But to do so and not disturb Khiea, the man must play by the only rules that are his now. The time of falling and drowning. It must be marked by both of them as brightly as a brand. And Hyuga can easily summon forth that memory--for how often has he recreated it, again and again, in first his own nightly terrors and then in his waking ones as punishment? It is less than a child's dark play to shape this section of the world into a recreation as only memories can be, filled with the worst drawn out into even more painful exaggerations. Ah, the blessings of recollections. The closer he can recreate this to that moment, the easier it would be to fully pull his daughter into this realm. Do you remember this, Midori? This is where you -died-. But Hyuga smoothes the waters down from the tempest and keeps only their malevolant shades to a dull roar all about, the man floating down nearer to the surface so that the whitecaps which pass through them both spray his face with icy froth. Come on now, my daughter. Wake and be held here. For he wishes questions answered, and the Guardian will know... one way or the other.
An unseen blink into her hands, and Midori is awake to this realm. To the howling, the screaming of the sea, and the sould it carries. It is not an easy thing to face up to, and fro the longest of times, she is conscious, yet...remains with her face bried in her palms. When the eyes eventually appear from behind the cupped hands, they are already bleary and wet.> ...No... <. She would not dream of this. But, who does consciously invoke dreams such as this? It is not her decision. No, this is nightmare, and it has her. She stares up to the dark figure before her, and is is father, and not father at the same time. The faintest of stolen memories are remembered. This is father, from before. No, this is...almost another person. This is Hyuga. She sniffles, the tiny sound drowned out from the roar around her, as she orients herself to this rather unique position.
This is her father. No. But. Wait... this figure so framed behind by the lightning of the storm which had torn them apart, hovering as carelessly as any being born of nothing less than the sea itself. This... -feeling- is her father. And yet, it is not. This is what has lain beneath that confused, soft affection which had been the whole existance of Lahan, coming in quiet and sharp bursts during those conversations late at night with Yui. This is what had been in her father's eyes at times when he had looked at her and knew that she had known... that he had known that the world was all a lie anyway. She does not dream of this. But he does. Hyuga's eyes tighten around the edges at the sound of Midori's distress, but he makes no other sign. Rather--just as those times, late at night, when he'd never known how to deal with a child so much older and aware than he had expected--he regards his child with the same distant curiosity as one who is not quite certain what he should count upon. The waves roar. Somewhere, a stray dreamer is screaming. Finally Hyuga kneels, reaching down a hand to the girl below. "Why, you'll get -drenched-, Midori," he says, the soft words with contractions breaking left and right riding the tides of familiar and not, dangerous and safe. "Why don't we go have some tea?"
Midori stares with watery eyes at the apparition above her. It is enough of father to know that it is, but why here? Is he but another sleeper who dreams of this scene, or is it something else? Is it that he can stop this, and return to the scene there was before? He would seem to think so, but...she stares at the proffered hand, barely inches away, yet so far in this panic that it may as well be a thousand miles away. Like a panicked animal on a precipice, she dares not reach out, lest she plummet to the waves below again. Lest she relive what has been. One hand turns over, and is only inches from his outstretched fingers, yet cannot move. -Will- nto move. For to her, this floating state is fragile, and she is petrified, unable to move for what might happen. She sniffles again.
Is it a sigh which echoes forth, slight but as deadly as the click of a trigger in the middle of the night when one thought they were alone? Nightmare itself is not the easiest thing to control and particularly not when standing so close to that which is untamed. Hyuga feels the stir of emotions from those minds also caught up in this tsunami's theater--he holds them down, turns them to raw strength much in the same way that he has always done with himself. But oh, if he'd only been -good- enough at it all along... well, too late for that. Hyuga is perfectly happy to wait as long as he needs and stare at his daughter, waiting to see if her own will is strong enough to break her free, but he is also aware of the time constraints for those who obey the normal laws of sleep. So it is with a twist again of that which flows through him that he forces the waves into stillness with the force of one dreamer's rage and another's possession. The water smooths itself into glass below them as Hyuga reaches out and yanks Midori up before she is trapped within that fractured prison, and the Guardian drops the rest of the world around them into the darkness of the coasts while the smell of storms remains high. A little corner of ice--no, that isn't very good for tea, is it? Then take his own refuge where things will be tamed. Turn a page of the world, Hyuga, and take your daughter with you. There. This will work for now. As an afterthought he releases Midori and kneels on the now bamboo mats. "There. Is that better?"

Citan's Nightmare: The Price of Free Will
A tearoom is here, austere and yet well-lit. The paper screens reveal the shadows of cherry trees just beyond in the gardens outside, tossed in the breeze of a spring day. Petals tumble from their embrace of their branches, and there is the scent of delicate blossoms through the air. Within the room, a low table has been set and cushions wait on either side to be kneeled upon. There is great beauty and the relaxation of an afternoon once one steps outside of these walls. But that is the boundary. To leave is to shirk all responsibilities, all acknowledgements--all chains that have been knowingly taken up. For this is a prison no greater than one's Will. And as a reminder--as if this room itself were not filled with the struggle of temptation versas discipline--the scroll of kanji hanging in the shallow alcove reads in dialect upon dialect: "This Is My Choice."
Exits: <S>outh
Contents:
Hyuga

It is gone. She had closed her eyes when Hyuga's hand had grasped hers, and is only now daring to open them, to reveal...well, quite a pleasant tearoom. As if getting used to it, she stands shakily, ragaining her land-legs, as it were. Her streaked face turns to Hyuga, and the blank stare returns. Still, even for an average child, a blank stare would be almost expected. She otherwise is silent, inside and out. Give her a minute before she can emote, now.
And the two stare at each other--now, -how- often have they done this, really? Such mild cyncism fills Hyuga now as he sees what might be his daughter or what might be only his imaginings. But he is over his bumbling doctorhood which has always looked to Midori with the murmering wondering as to why his strange daughter was so very gifted, and had wondered why she did not play. Yes. He must believe he is over it, lest he be so very tempted to go back and -stab- a figurative part of himself. Again. After a moment, Hyuga decides to remain in his Solarian threads and at his younger age, moving a hand to pour the tea lazily. "This should be better, I'd think." Ignore the play of shadows across the paper doors, which mimic even still the cresting and falling of the waters. It does that, Nightmare. And this is so firmly in its heart. Hyuga holds his cup and savors it, watching still Midori over the rim of it and still so very clinically curious. Early hours of the morning. Late hours of the night. All the things which were true and not true--they are all here. She can make the first move. He is settling into seeing if she is real or not in the meantime.
Midori does not move, for the longest of times. It is that same pattern again, that kind of dream which does not bear the hallmark of her usual dreams. That wanders, and rambles, and diverts from what she would think is...plausible. She nods, agreeing that yes, sitting in a tearoom, albeit such a 'unique' tearoom as this, is preferable to floating just above the surface of...water. She had not realised until now that it is now a thing she fears. It had not been a problem before. Still, she may as well play along, as not playing is..what made the last dream so less then pleasant, wasn't it? She slowly walks forward, and kneels on a cushoin in front of the table, still staring, motionless now. She nods, a half-bow. > ...father... <.
But is it? Hyuga gives a brief nod, rather arbitrary as he absently arranges the coat to flow out properly under his legs as he kneels upon the cushions provided for that purpose. Half his mind is already questing outwards, spreading itself into the nooks and crannies that is the Nightmare. It embraces him back--the interface and the source, both combining as if he had never had to briefly seperate himself from the bulk of it to walk into Dream that last time. "Midori. Some tea to make things better, would you not think?" Beyond the sliding doors, the shadows of waves thrash and howl. Ignore them, and believe there are only sakura petals fluttering past. "Forgive me for how blunt I must be in this," he continues, setting down the two cups filled and then looking at the girl in that same distant sharpness, "but Midori. Are you dead or are you -not-?"
Always, the blank stare remains, yet now it grows more and more apt by the second. Such directness in father was only in the most urgent of circumstances. Perhaps, this was important to him. But, of course it is. And still, if this is a dream, then it is only her own subconscious asking that question. She must know, herself. She must make the decision wether she is dead to the other world, or to this. If this is a figment, designed by her id to serve some instinctive purpose, or the orphanage is. Here, or the orphanage. She closes her eyes, and stares silently between one and the other. It is not an easy question. It is not one that can be answered conclusively in her rather disturbed state. For all she knows, it is not so important that her own curiosity be satisfied. Best to try to appease it, then. The eyes remain closed, and the face retains its perfect calm. > ...I...don't know... <.
It is more important than the world. And yet it is... why -is- it so vital that Hyuga has cut right to the heart of it, forgoing even his usual off-centered look of the eyes and bemused happinesses that conceal hard interest. Now Hyuga watches her, settling back on his heels and resting the heel of one palm upon the table as if to brace himself. "I know that incarnations of the past can be resummoned here--and yet they are usually rooted cleanly. And I can -find- them." Yes, this is the vexing part. For could this be blind to him because it -comes- from him, some renegade part of his subconscious? Drat. "You know that I do not mind either way, Midori," he finally continues, his voice relaxing once more and that piercing gaze dropping at last. "But how could you have possibly survived? And... more than that," and here he looks up again, "Why have you been so absent to me? -How-?"
Midori never moves, or blinks. It is not her story to tell if she does not know it. She had simply accepted it as an end, for which the means did not fit. And where is -here-, anyway? He speaks of it as a domain, something to watch over, to guard. It was always his function. Perhaps he si watching over her. Perhaps it is his mind in hers, as it was before. Perhaps it -is- father, or some part of him, that gnaws so tenaciously at her sleeping persona. In which case... > ...there is...another place. Another dream... < . She chooses to describe it as it is to her, confusing as it might be to the guardian of this domain. > ...I go there when I am not here... < . And it is as simple as that.
"You speak of what people call the waking world." Hyuga's words are soaked in a hint of bitterness, although not directed at his daughter--he has dealt with those who demand one or the other as being true so often that he is entirely displeased with it. The Guardian reaches for his cup and takes a sip, more to arrange his thoughts and route them into the proper channels of distinguishing a seperate mind from the background flow. Is she real? Or is she only a dream of a dream itself? "It is highly unlikely that a child of your age can survive such a fall during that severe of a storm. Even more so, the chances of keeping alive afterwards..." His voice trails off, and the sakura flutters by on a renewed gust of wind. These are the reasons which he has repeated to himself so often to deny self-hatred--and failing more often than not--that he but says them here calmly. "Even so. For a child to not dream at all and to not be dreamed -of-... Midori, your mind has been missing to me until now." He assumes that she is here then. Yes. She must be--but then is she but a ghost? He cannot rule that out either. "No matter how I searched... nothing." A stray petal makes its way inside, and brushes against his hand. The Guardian moves a finger and traps it upon the table. "There are two worlds, my daughter, and all else is but a shadow of each. We are in the Sleeping one. This is how we are able to meet." And now his eyes lift, and darkness stirs again, called forth by the dormant cries of the father inside the Guardian. Then it is his fault if she is alive, it is his fault entirely... his fault for not finding her now, his fault for not being able to save her if it is true. Again.
The eyes gently open, and regards the gentle play of the blossom and the hand, silently mulling over the words father speaks, never faltering, never reacting to each atetement as an atom. > ...Then, if that is the waking world, then perhaps I am alive... <. It is all too easy to sleep just for the practical function, to drop into fitful, dreamless slumber, and dram of nothing, lest it be your last, if some mortal danger were to whisk you away. And, in such seclusion, perhaps? Still, if she cannot explain it, she should not speculate, or philosophise. That is all left to father. She tilts her head, and her eyes meet Hyuga's, the blank stare softening mildly. > ...are...you alive?... <.
A twist of pain around the eyes and high in the cheeks, and again at the first attempt to answer the question. No. No. Let her be dead. Let her be dead and let them all be rejoined in this dream that can be a better heaven than even the one that the Ethos preaches, or that Deus threatens. "I am alive." A pause, and then he amends it. "A little, at least. I spend most of my time here these days, or walking between here and there. Living in both constantly, as it were." The man lifts his finger, but the velvety petal sticks to his skin as he raises it. "But how could you have survived, Midori? I wonder." He says this gently now, worrying over the riddle carefully. "I searched for you for so long. Your mother I knew and stayed away from lest I trouble her, but you..." Hyuga closes his hand and flicks the petal away, the spot of color tumbling to the mats. "Even Fei was easier to find than you. No one dreamed of you. You dreamed nowhere that I could find..." Another pause, and Hyuga remembers his manners enough to find some teacakes. Sweets would help? Perhaps. "I didn't leave you because I wanted to," he admits finally, so softly that he would go unheard if this were the waking world. "I never wanted to leave either of you."
It is easy to believe words you wish to believe. It is sometimes more painful, in the end, but the pain is dulled by ignorance, by the false catharsis blind belief brings. So, father is alive. Let this mindplay play out, or this reality, whichever it may be. It helps to believe in something as truth, rather then forever wondering about things that may be said and done, and put aside, now. I know I believe in nothing, but it is -my- nothing. Midori...takes comfort at Hyuga's words. For it is as they were intended. She reaches for a teacake, and forgets this for a second, and becomes a child again. > ...like me. The other children only ever want to play... <. This reality is almost respite from that.
And yet illusion is a thing which Hyuga uses and curses himself when he lets himself be used by it. The man rests the question now to be explored later. Much later, in Nightmare and in restless search through the younger mind--but that is, yes, later. "If you are alive or dead, you are still here. That I gladly accept." His mind stirring still, Hyuga runs his hand over the mats and feels the wickered texture of the surfaces against his skin. They both only exist because he bothers to remember each precious detail into place, but that itself is rewarding. "You have never really been your age, have you, Midori?" He smiles as he says this. It's a strange affection, familiar and missed for it possibly having been lost forever. "But... here you may find a freedom. Here in Dream there is the ability to be whichever you need to." He stirs himself, and then continues as he must. "Here... at least, we can be together. Though we can never be while awake..."
Midori smiles, and almost blushes at the comment. It is hard to think childish thoughts when your head is full of adult ones. And the adult thoughts of the guardian at that. It is impossible to go back to being a normal child after you have known what Midori has known. It is as if there is a much older person sitting there, in the body of a small child, forever pondering. It was always unnderving and strange, even to Erine, the kindest of people, she was an enigma. It is why she never speaks. It is why she never plays. It is shy she can never be a child. But, she can be what she likes? Well, perhaps so, but something still puzzles her. > ...why not, father? If we are both alive?... <. It may be practically true, yet there is still that undertone of duty, of obligation in Hyuga's voice. Yes, she is not as important, again. And it is taken as truth at this stage, accepted as what -is-, like any other supreme truth. Ah. Perhaps she had answered her own question. Or, perhaps not. She nonchalantly brushes some of her straw-coloured hair back behind her ear, from where it has fallen in front of her eyes. For it is now longer.
And is Hyuga well aware that he may have been a large part of Midori's lost childhood--just how innocent can one think the world when a stew of plottings and manipulations nested within the mind of your father, even past and with his own wife? Guilt. It lives in every crack of the Nightmare elsewhere, but here in this branch there is only the pains of rigid discipline. "Because, Midori..." And hope, oh -hope- that she will understand as her mother does not. "If I return to the both of you, you may be used as targets against me or will be drawn into the conflicts that will arise while I follow my duty. That was why I wished you both to... be safe in Shevat." And how wrong -that- had gone. But as mildly as he speaks, with his eyes on the shadows playing still on the paper screens, he does so with truth. "There is no safety around me, I fear--not in the Waking world. And especially not..." Here he brushes the hand which has rubbed against the floor to his Solarian coat, a marking of the duty he must return to now that there is such waning hope for the Contact. Then he blinks, the faint senses he has open in his daughter's direction noting a change. "Hm?" Ah, a change of form. Yes, those were common enough--after all, he is only a little older than twenty here.
Only a little older then twenty...and with shoulder-length hair to match. She thought it was a nice touch. But, still with the affliction that is the Uzuki fashion sense, she wears the same plain dress as before, drawn in now, at the waist, with a green sash. She barely notices it, and does not bear it any mind, for her mind is on different things, now. On duty, and its ever-frequent propensity to...get in the way. She speaks, and her voice has the same Shevvite lilt as her mother's. "I see. So in order to protect mother any myself. You distance yourself from us? I understand. This is a safe place for you. For us.". She only then looks down at her new appearance, and blinks in surprise. "And...it appears you were correct", she adds, apparently not noticing the transition from silence to speech. But that is but an aside. "Then, if mother is in Shevat, why can I not be there?". Again, there is the unintentional simplicity of the child, although the appearance belies it. She looks to Hyuga, and the stare is softened by her new features, but is still recognisably hers.
Both of them the same age? It does seem a Uzuki trait, doesn't it. Hyuga smiles to the green--how much she looks like her father. It is... touching. And it touches him, even wrapped in all things ruthless and cold. These things which he has wanted so much for and has known that they would likely never be... how cruel and yet how kind. "I'm afraid so." Citan shifts his legs, propping up a knee. He does not need to let them cramp, but it is only form listening to habit. "This place has its own dangers, even for me--but things are allowed to survive here that cannot elsewhere." Such as kindness. Such as Citan. "Normally while we would be seperated forever in the waking, now we are still allowed to have contact. It is a thing to be grateful for--for me, at least." His eyes continue their wandering and rest on his tea. Then Midori's words startle him. "You -can- be with your mother," he says, a hint of rebuke to the absent Yui. "Although Shevat is the heart of war these days--but what is not? I believe, though," he adds darkly, "that she would rather be directly involved in the battle, rather than staying where it should be safer." For... with luck, there would not be another Sigurd to possibly betray Shevat into being destroyed.
You...can be with your mother. But, only here? It is a tradeoff, for being...no, I am...alive? Then why is it, that only in dream can she see either of her parents? "I mean, while awake. I do not think she knows where I am." Yes, it would be a comfort to at least be able to have mama in both realities. Or both dreams. And shevat is a happy memory, is it not? Do both parents desert her for the sake of duty? Here, is the dream. It can be forgotten in the morning, as a throwaway excercise of the mind, or a simulation of the real world. No matter how realistic it might be, it is only as real as it is observed. To find one of her parents in reality. Yes, that would answer all questions. It would grant an anchor into reality, a rock to cling to while floundering. A respite from the turmoil.
"You should be with her." This stirs alarm into the Guardian--no. It stirs that which he had not been happy with before. His sword. -His- Gear. And she did not even listen to him about her own safety... the emotions which are darker are never really so far out of control with him, but with an entire head steeped in fears and rages? He is allowed to have his occasional suffusions of other people's tempers. The only sign of this is the rain which suddenly snaps into storm outside the tearoom, coupled with lightning and its thundered partner. "When I find Yui, I will let her know that she should not continue to endanger herself." When. Not if. "Where are you in the Waking, Midori? And... even if you cannot find Yui or I there, you know that you need only sleep to find me." A rare security. Yes. Let that be promised. "And... if you are willing to learn, I can help you learn to find your mother."
Midori blinks, and is confused again. "I'm not sure. There are lots of other children, and Erine, and some other...etones.". She says the word as if it is new, and only just remembered, for it is only through speaking with Erine that she has learned anything at all. "Erine calls it an 'Orphanage'". She thinks, as if some smaller detail might trigger something in her father. Perhaps...no. All else she knew was they had comfortable beds, and the other children played all day. Some of them cried at night. No, that was irrelevant, perhaps. "How can I find mama? I don't know where Shevat is." Yes, thanks to her swift removal from shevat, she probably only has the most hazy of recollections of her way around shevat's capital. "I don't know if you know where that is. I can describe it further, if you need me to.".
The Etones? Erine. Hmm. The new woman in charge of the Ethos--he'd heard of that when it had first happened, notably because he'd also not been able to find her either to ask her on Primera's whereabouts. Ever. Frustrating that. "I believe I do know... around the islands?" A thought now. "Then you are closer to me than to Yui. Close enough." He unfolds his legs and crosses them at the ankles, his jacket creaking at the pressure. "Shevat is inaccessible to anyone outside of its world right now. But... you may be able to find her while she sleeps and have her recover you. Or," he pauses--but no, -no-, the thought is not one to encourage. "Midori," he says softly despite himself, "I could always take you to the safety of Solaris. But up here... one must become a dangerous creature indeed. I would not feel comfortable making the choice for you," he decides. "Perhaps later. After we have spoken longer in the dream and perhaps you have grown. Solaris... kills what it does not like, my daughter." Softer, "...it kills me."
It is but the blink of an eye, and younf Midori is back again. A confused child stares back at Hyuga, where a confident Uzuki had been not a moment before. No, it is not a decision to be taken lightly. For she thinks she knows what it is like to be killed. Or to have that she trasures most killed. She has mourned for her parents, and now they live again. And now, for all the world, she would want nothing more then to be with them in the waking. If that cannot be so, then...to choose is to tear her apart. To not choose is to stay in the water, and risk drowning herself. > ...I...don't know... <.
"No." Hyuga notices the change, sensing the flicker more than going through the bother of using his eyes. "And it would not be fair to you at this point. However," and his chin lifts again as the Guardian fixes those strangely sharpened and strangely calm eyes upon his daughter, "there is more time now. The Aquavy Islands should be safer than anywhere in Solaris or Shevat combined. In particular, if Erine is aware of your heritage..." he falls silent then, brooding. True, the Empress had spoken well of the Bishopess in his hearing and had assured him--but how much can he himself be certain of those whose minds are even more unreal and lacking existance than his daughter had? "It may be best to not reveal your parentage unless it is absolutely necessary, Midori." He softens a bit at this. "I am sorry to counsel you in subterfuge. It is not a choice you should have to make. Perhaps you would despise it and me when you are older." Perhaps not. Perhaps she can sense--as she always has--how much of it is simple living. "If you stay in Aquavy, then perhaps Yui can find you there. Either way, you can always find me whenever you sleep. Always. Although I must admit I am nearer to the borders of Nightmare... I cannot enter the Dream which is Khiea's alone without causing difficulty." And that accursed Citan puppet is there. "The Castle is safe, if you can dream of it. And... there is Sigrd's desert..." How strange his words fall then, and how bitter. For... Sigrd. For him, had he let his daughter possibly drown. For him had so much been done. And still. Still.
Midori blinks, and nods, and it is a simple instruction from her father, which is to be obeyed. Pride in a heritage comes later, and so too, any resentment that follows suit. It does not come into it, though. Father knows best, although it is because Midori knows so, rhather then being told. Solaris might not be the most hospitable of places, and so too might not Shevat, if it is in the state that father describes. For all the making of decisions, though, the awake Midori is stuck where she is, the travel opportunities for five-year-olds stuck on an island being...limited. Still, there is the dream, for whatever comfort it brings. And father will be here. And perhaps Khiea, too. A strange girl, who had perhaps misunderstood Midori, as she had Khiea. But, that is all for later. > ...I understand.... <. And for once, she does.
But that is precisely it, isn't it--that there is a place for Midori here in Nightmare, and here by the side of Hyuga. Citan is with Khiea and all other adult things are for Hyuga. This includes plots. This includes espionage. All things of complexity and duplicity are here, and if she can accept them? Then she can accept both sides of her father, perhaps, but she will also be not infringing upon Khiea's desperate needs for companionship that she has filled with Citan's presence. And none of this is spoken aloud directly, but how it rings and shouts if only a person keeps their mind open to it. "Midori," he says finally, wondering in a brief minute of warning, "You have a choice where you are. You can leave your destiny in the hands of those around you and simply trust as a child might, or you can watch and learn so that they will not surprise you. But I am afraid that the latter comes with a price, and it is a high one." But it is one you must already know, Midori, if only by watching what has gone through your father's head. And he knows that she knows... and so on. "Let me be a lesson to you, my daughter," he laughs at last, without humor and without much strength. "Do you want to know why I have become like this? What could have happened apart from duty to bring me to this state?"
Midori nods, and might think she understands, that gleaning of her father's attitude she remembers from long ago. She remembers Sigurd, and how he calmly sat in the house on the hill, while betraying shevat. She rememebrs how we have to distrust each other, as it is the only defence against betrayal. It is imprudent to let others define your destiny. That..is what -lambs- do. She ponders on his question for a minute, sipping on her tea, and staring beyond him. There is only so much insight a child can offer. > ...I...I don't know... <.
Mercy might have him stop now, but mercy has such a very little place in this room. Not when there is a point to be made, and the Guardian will drive for it now. Yes. Good Midori. "The reason... you remember the issue with Shevat, of course." He dodges the issue even at the beginning of his resolve, but how painful that entire section of memory must be for them both. He starts again, his voice gaining strength. "The reason why I chose to not search for you for hours was not because Shevat was in any real danger." His tone betrays his scorn to that, as does the nature of his thoughts. Does Midori find it easier, with her own traits, to understand faster what goes unsaid but only felt? Perhaps. "You and I both know that Solaris would not remove Shevat so quickly in the scheme of things. I flew to Shevat because I thought you lost... and I could not spend the time because I knew how much Sigrd would hate himself later for his betrayal of the city." And then nothing had happened. And his daughter had died in vain, or close enough. Hyuga closes his eyes, but that is only for cosmetic value. "Fruitless. Utterly fruitless. Then when I chose to investigate Khiea's dream, I did so in truth out of my own curiosity, but also to ensure its safety for my charge. That was duty." His eyes slide open again by mere slits. "But then it was... also for friendship. It was also to care for an old companion. It... seemed to help Sigrd to have a place to relax after a while. And I let that be. And so I stayed here, not only for Khiea but for him..."
Duty, and friendship. Two virtues of the strong. Midori nods gently. It was through sheer selflessness that father was here, then. It was just like him, of course, she thinks. Give up everything you have for your friends, and country. Even your family. Whatever about the rather confused priorities. She could understand him having them, of course. She was, after all, his daughter. And this is why she finds herself unable to hate him for what he did. She could not if she tried. Any lesser child might be shocked at being left for dead in service to duty and friendship. For Midori, it is just another thing that she knows her father would do. She knows him as a genuinely honourable man. He has flaws, but so do we all. So do we all. > ...There are...many kinds of duty... <. Waxing philosophical, Midori? You are your father's daughter, indeed.
And thank goodness that. For Hyuga would see his world returned to nothing but Solaris if Midori and Yui both were to turn their backs. And yet while he might cry for faith, for trust, for all these things, he knows he would not deserve them in other's eyes. "There are indeed, Midori," he replies gently, shadows of the more recognizable father drawing themselves about his face as the danger of being shut away by someone with such a strong hold on his heart grows less likely. "But it all was for naught as well. Then I gave up even my own self--what was left of me through all of this that I might call my own identity and soul--because in doing so, I would become a part of Dream. I would know it as I would know my own nature. Why?" He tilts his head in question to his daughter, prizing the moment of serenity. "Because in doing so, I knew I could try and protect not only my duty... but also my friends. I could find you and Yui. That was why." He rests his chin on his hand, stirring the teacup with his other. "That is why there are those who will call me delusional now, or ruined. I wanted to try and save everyone, my daughter. I wanted to make everyone happy. And it is an impossible task." He shakes his head, the longer hair spilling over a shoulder and sliding over the edge of the table. "Now I am Nightmare. My daughter, if you choose to take my path... then do not make the same mistakes that I do now. Do not let your heart destroy you and what you need to do, as it does to me now."
Midori stares Hyuga directly in the eyes, and speaks. "Then, perhaps if you cannot satify all your duties, then you, also, have choices to make.".
"Hence why I chose to return to Solaris." Hyuga accepts the words from his daughter as seriously as if he was taking them from one of his own former comrades. And why should he treat them as any less? Unlike other adults, Hyuga never really has learned the trick of talking down to children--a saving grace in the case of his own daughter, for all that he has always felt a bit awkward about if he -should- or not. "I attempted to return to suppression of those same generosities that break themselves more than they help... that was what you met in the Dream on Khiea's side. I store him there," he adds lightly, as if speaking of a pet dog or an old sleeping bag. "My duties now are clear, although I am still not pleased with what they imply the final statement to be. Soon I will return to the surface... but until then, and even afterwards, I must be what I always have been." A Solarian. He reaches for his tea, and drinks. "I truly thought that everything could be happy in the end and that hope would prevail past a duty's sword. I was a fool, wasn't I. Well."
Midori can only nod, as Hyuga opens up. "I understand. You tried to be the guardian to everyone, instead of just Fei.". Perhaps an oversimplification on her part, but perhaps an accurate one. So, her father from a few nights ago was a different one from this in more then appearance. She had thoght himto be a little...too pleasant for him. The businesslike nature was not there, and led her to doubt. There is no doubt here, and if anythingm Hyuga is more like father than Citan. Or at least, he is the father she would prefer. There can only be so long before pleasantness wears thin, and becomes tiresome when it is an alternative to the sharpness of Hyuga, of the nightmare. A Nightmare from the viewpoint of the average dreamer, yes. But, in this situation, the nightmare becomes less so. To the pojnt of not being a nightmare at all.
"Yes... that is correct." Indeed. To those who would know him better... the Citan who only smiles and never flares his wit now and then can be the true terror. At least, to his family and close friends--there are precious few whom Hyuga lets himself be more accurate to his nature around, and he has always reveled in it with Yui and his daughter. This? This is... none of the faint embarrassment of a Citan who fears he should be a better father than he is, but rather a mind which would beckon Midori to continue growing older at the breakneck pace she has already exhibited. And if the both of them crave softer, more innocent days--well, there is always a time and a place for that. It is far away from here. But it exists. This? This is... comfortable, and even Hyuga finds the traditional struggles of the Nightmare fading somewhat under not having to excuse himself or bear under accusations. "It is regrettably a part of my nature, and one which I mostly kept under rein when younger. However... Lahan and Fei..." Never mind that. Those are times in the past. "Now it is a matter of putting the genie back into the bottle. But then..." Midori and Yui might realize that they should hate him. But please. Not Midori, not from how she reacts here. "It is a hard lesson for myself to relearn, coming back down after the dreams of those years. And there is much given up along the way." His very mind itself. Well. "But many rewards. For... there is now the Dream. There is always another reality on the other side of sleep, isn't there?"
There is always reality. And in reality, there is always the dream. And never the twain shall meet. Except, perhaps, in the transition between. Midori is quite used to it at this stage, and barely slinches a her legs fade fom under her. "Ah. It is that time already...", she notes with a smile. "I will think about what you said. until next time...", the mist gradually creeps up her body, and cuts her off mid-sentence, as the waking world gently begins to reclaim her, evaporating to as much greenish mist, as she disappears.
Hyuga has disconnected.