ORIGIN

In the days since his reawakening he found himself restless and wandering. He wasn't sure what to do about his.. predicament. Rift hadn't been able to help him, and he was reluctant to try that again. But that left him with absolutely no alternative plans, especially when merely thinking about purging himself of the fungus sent a bolt of dread through him.

Eventually he found himself in Polaris. He half-remembers claims that Order can't survive here. Or maybe it was just the fungus? Regardless he could still feel the buzzing infection in the back of his mind. It was most often indecipherable nonsense, but occasionally meaning would resolve from the static. Even more uncommonly he'd feel that looming, watching sensation of Mother draw close, and ever so carefully extend her fake warmth to him. Each time he'd recoil violently from that false love. And each time it's draw back, radiating patience. I'll be ready for you when you're ready to accept me. It seemed to say, with an air of inevitability.

He hated it.

He hadn't been sleeping well recently, and Polaris offered a strange jolt of energy, which was sorta nice. He wandered around, just as aimless as all the days before, until he spotted someone in the distance. The other gembound reminded him a bit of a bone moth, albeit an exceptionally large one. She had a distinct air of sadness about her- something he'd unfortunately become rather familiar with.

"Uhm- Hello?" He called out. "Are you alright?"

He'd grow increasingly awkward with each passing second as the bug-eyed creature stared at him buggishly. Did they not understand his question, somehow? Was he intruding on something? Or- wait, maybe they were scared. Yeah, he was carrying an entire battleaxe and MUCH taller than her, of course she was scared!

He'd abruptly set down his axe, nudging it away a little with his foot, before crouching down to be more level with the bugbeast.

He finally got an answer and. Yeah. He could relate to that.

"Oh. Uh. Yeah. Same, I guess." He shrugged. Although could becoming an mindless, moldy husk of himself still be considered 'living?'

No, don't think about that. He was going to do everything in his power to keep that from happening, so he shouldn't worry about it.

"Sure." He would accept the berry gratefully, playing with it in his fingers idly. "Thank you."

He'd notice her gaze flickering over to his axe, where it rattled faintly against the stone. "Oh, uh, don't worry about that!" He'd smile reassuringly, "It's enchanted so it just kind of.. does that."

"I'm Cyneweard. Knight Cyneweard Goldheart, at your service." He was already crouching, but he'd attempt a lighthearted bow anyways. He didn't often use his mouthful of a title, especially considering recent circumstances, but this stranger seemed like the type to appreciate a dramatic title. And he wanted to hold on to what he was supposed to be.

And once again, the prospect of actually admitting what was wrong with him sent made his stomach twist with dread. He'd settle on, "...I'm sick. And I'm not sure if it's going to get better. But I really hope it does." Oh. Wow. Uh. Even the indirect version made him feel. Yikes.

He'd pop the berry into his mouth to avoid dwelling on these feelings. Yummy.

"Yep." He'd pop the 'p,' "The blacksmith in Leo made it for me. I just had to held him gather some materials." When he first received it he had mixed opinions on it- it certainly didn't fit his preferred fighting style. But it grew on him as he learned how to handle it better. It was certainly useful against heavily armored opinions.

Unwillingly, he'd think of crunching chitin and a limb being felled like a tree. He'd shake his head a little to ward off the though, forcing his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"I hope so." He'd reply to her well-wishes, because he really DID hope so. But occasionally, a thought would flit by- that eventually, when if the infection won, he would no longer CARE that it won. He would be- well, not happy, but he wouldn't feel like this anymore.

He didn't like that train of thought. It felt like a slippery slope towards just letting the infection win.

He'd listen to her lament, and once again, this stranger proved to be startlingly relatable. There was a time he thought his life as a knight was over, without a prince to serve. He still feels that way sometimes- fairly often, actually. "Oh, well, there's always time for a different approach. There's always many paths to get to the same place, y'know? I don't think it's hopeless just 'cause you failed once." You probably have all the time in the world. He thought bitterly. He instantly felt bad, though. He shouldn't think like that, just because her problem seemed more fixable than his. "What was your 'small business' planned to be, anyways?"

He'd blink at the vague non-answer he was given, "...Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out." He'd offer.

The monologue went on, and he frowned, distinctly uncomfortable. "I.. don't really believe in that kind of thing? In like.. getting 'punished' by fate, or whatever you want to call it. Especially not if the only thing you did was 'be passionate.'" His expression became more serious as he went on, no longer looking at Luna but something in the distance. "It kind of sounds like you've already given up? Or like, you'd rather dwell on what didn't work than what COULD work in the future."

He'd stand up and shake the stiffness from his limbs, uncomfortable from squatting for so long- and also with the direction this conversation was taking. "I wish you luck, with whatever path you decide to take from here." This was genuine- he really did hope they got over.. whatever this was. "But I don't think we're really similar at all."