Salme @ Badri

Hey, so I figured I might as well set this up while I’m still around to explain things in person, but the library entries you’ll probably want to take a look at are:

• Speaking With Constellations: This is where I interacted with the Duelist’s Mask constellation
• Bahamut, The First Sword-Saint of Almachadta: I was able to dive deep enough in the Mask to find … an … echo? Of the first Sword-Saint of Almachadta. It isn’t a memory; it can learn and grow.
• A History of the Liminal Library: And here’s the making of the library. It has some mention of … the Mask’s inner workings and how the library is based off it?
• The Dream-Whales of Samudra: This is less necessary, but … there are some mentions of the possible connections with the Mask here?

Uh. If you encounter someone named Jorule, that’s … okay, so it’s really complicated, but there’s another guy who is part of Aurelius but different and he’s from another world? We’re … friends most of the time, I think. But. That’s who that is.

I sound insane, don’t I?

Oh, Light. This is… both incredible work on your part, and incredible… memories? Discoveries? I’m not sure what to call this. I’m reading through things very slowly to make sure I don’t miss anything. To think that so much was in the Mask the whole time I held it, and I had no idea.

I don’t think you sound insane at all. I think the world’s a bigger tree than we thought we were sitting under, which is an overwhelming feeling. I felt that way the first time I wore the Mask, and I couldn’t really talk about it with anyone at all. I’m so very glad you have good people to share this with.

Oh, please take your time. I just wanted to write this before I forgot.

There’s … even more beyond that. You’re welcome to look at whatever you like, and I can try to explain anything else. It’s been. You know, some time partway through Samudra I started believing it was more likely that we’d succeed than we’d fail. That’s. Well. You know I’ve always been, despite my role, a bit of a pessimist. That’s something.

Thank you again for welcoming us with all the attendant chaos. It was … really good, to share a meal with everyone. Next time I’ll have to drag Wolf along. Drag everyone along, really.

Oh, Salme. Reading all of this, I can– I can see the moment when I believed that there was a possibility that things could change. You say ‘despite my role’, but we shared that role, and the role made it very difficult to hold hope in anything other than– that something would survive, and remember us. And I told myself that everyone who lives faces that knowledge, that all they have to them is the legacy they leave, the memories that come to the living when they speak a name, that Almachadta’s truth and the Mask’s purpose was not that much different from the fate we all face.

And yet, we both know that’s not really the case, and never was, and that, until now, it was very very hard to hold out hope. Put on a brave face? Aye, that I could do. But no, Salme– you gave me hope back.

And now I hope that you and yours are doing well. Have you made it to Aurelius’ world, yet? I hope that the return is joyful for him; he seemed to be in good spirits when the three of you visited.

Did you hope that something would remember you? I did not. Or. I thought often about that tally mark. At least I would get to make one. How many Sword-Saints do not get that privilege? Most of us, I think. I thought about that tally mark so often, how deep I’d gouge it, how I’d leave a little diagonal slash at the end, like I do on my Es. Something, anything, to show I was a person, that I lived and that I died.

I used to think that the role hadn’t—that I had borne it with more grace than most. I had been unhappy before the Mask, and after I was. Well, not happy, but contextualized. I had a purpose, I had a role, and my very presence was a balm. It didn’t matter, I told myself, that I would likely see the end. At least I’d get my tally.

But I sliced out so much of myself to do it and I crafted other, different parts of myself to be better and better at the role, because who I was could in no way be adequate. And I am realizing now, just now, that I—I don’t know. I am happy, brilliantly so, happier than I’ve ever been. I think that just makes the fucked-up parts of me stand out more.

And the worst thing is that sometimes I’m upset with you about it. And I know that you could not have stopped me from winning the Rite against you; the Mask was mine once I decided I wanted it. And you were the best mentor I think anyone could have hoped for; your let me make the most informed decision I possibly could. I know all these things intellectually.

But sometimes I wonder why I couldn’t just have been your daughter?

And I know that is unfair to say. I know that will hurt you. I never said it because I felt you didn’t deserve to hear it, because it doesn’t change anything, and Light knows you’ve been hurt enough.

But fuck, Badri. I don’t know how to get past this. So this is me, messily and imperfectly, asking you to help me again.

(And Aury is doing well. Our arrival on his home plane, The Beast, was … complicated, but he is doing better.)

(I am also sorry AG called you a chode. I was … telling them my story and. They got very upset with you because they are … very impulsive.)

Oh, Salme.

It’s not unfair to say.

If it hurts, it’s a hurt I can handle. I’d rather hear you say it than you keep it bottled up inside. Don’t worry about -me-.

Can I admit something to you, in turn?

I used to have thoughts in the dead of night about- how badly I wished I could slough the Mask off on someone who wasn’t you. Not because I didn’t think you could handle it. I knew you’d be a brilliant Sword-Saint. But I had a feeling, knowing what it cost me, that it would cost you dearly, and I didn’t want. I wanted, so badly, to just find a nice corner of the Courtyard and be, not the Sword-Saint, but the father you never had.

I kept hoping someone would seriously challenge me for the Mask before you could beat me. I knew in my heart that that wouldn’t happen, but I hoped for it. I hoped for it.

When you beat me, after you wore the Mask for the first time, and the celebration in your honor was over, and I was alone again for a while? I wept. I wept tears I’d kept in since Ciet threw me the Mask, I think. I was relieved to not be carrying it any more, and that’s the part I can’t forgive myself for. And I was– so worried. About what it would do to the impetuous girl who stood in front of me, about to put the Mask on, saying “I haven’t a fucking clue”.

The Mask isn’t kind, Salme. It’s kind to Almachadta, perhaps, but cruel to those who bear it. And I can’t say I -would- have stopped you from taking it, if I could have; you wanted it for yourself, badly enough that the Mask itself could tell.

I hope I never gave you the impression that you would have to slice out parts of yourself to be the Sword-Saint. I… worried that you would feel like you had to emulate me; when it seemed like you had found your own way of being the Sword-Saint I- well. No, I still worried, because of who I am as a person, and it sounds like I was correct to do so. But I was also so proud of you, and I still am, and…

I’m sorry. I should have talked about all of this with you as soon as you became the Sword-Saint. I didn’t want to unduly influence you, any more than I thought I already had, and that was foolish of me, and I hope that, for that at least, you’ll forgive me.

I love you, no matter what.

Well. The thing I think I needed to hear … that if it could’ve been, you would’ve been happy to have me as your daughter. I. Didn’t know that. I needed to hear that, I think. To know that just being Salme-and-Badri would have been enough for you too.

Or. Not enough. The Mask was always my future, I think. If you hadn’t been the Sword-Saint then, if Ciet had somehow still been the Sword-Saint, I think I probably would have dueled them for it. I can’t imagine myself ever being content on Almachadta being anything less than the Sword-Saint. But. I would have liked to have been older, I think. To have maybe had more joy, and the father my heart chose. I’m sure you would have liked to been older too. If we ever get Ciet out of that fucking door I’ll have some words for them, I’m sure.

As for the rest.

You’re ridiculous. Of course you were relieved. I’d be angry if you weren’t relieved. I took the Mask for myself in part so you would get to be relieved (but just in part, Badri, don’t let yourself feel guilty about this too). Seeing the way you shone after—truly proving that Sunbeam-and-Dog sigil. And you never once made me feel like I had to slice out parts of myself or emulate you. I put that all on myself.

But I did put it on myself.

I. The secret was heavy, but the thing that got me was seeing the previous Sword-Saints and feeling … inadequate, I think. I know you know some of this but. I never really felt like I fit in Almachadta, in anywhere I went. You, after Iikka died, were the first person who ever seemed to see me and like what they saw. I was overwhelmed. Couldn’t see how I could ever be something like that. Perform? Sure. Carry sorrow and memories and stories? Absolutely. But all the small ways the Sword-Saint makes peoples’ lives better? I …

I should have talked to you about this because I’m sure you’d have a lot to tell me about being silly, but I hated myself so much. So the parts of me that were. Impulsive. Angry. Hurt. And also anxious. That needed and wanted? I smothered them. I thought I’d killed them, honestly, but they’ve been … coming back with a vengeance.

And you didn’t seem to. Notice a difference? You seemed happy and proud? So I thought that was the right thing.

And again it wasn’t all misery, even mostly misery. It wasn’t—I loved it. I still do love it. When I get the chance to perform, to tell our story, or any kind of story, I take it. I—well. You can see the library. I’m still. I’m still the Sword-Saint.

I’m just also trying to be Salme again, and that’s. Been harder. Than I thought it would be?

And I love you too. And I don’t think you need forgiveness for anything you did. I don’t, actually, think I need forgiveness either, not really. I just need. Guidance. A lamp. Help finding my way out.

And any guidance I can possibly give, I’d be glad to. I’m glad you’re trying to be Salme again. I’ve always loved Salme. And– I should have said something, this isn’t me berating myself, or begging for forgiveness. But a part of me did notice the way you were acting, and compared it to. Well. The way I acted, in my own way, after I became the Sword-Saint, and I had the impulse to say something, and I didn’t, and I regret that.

I, also, compared myself to- well, Ciet, directly, and then the memories in the Mask once I started getting my fingers dirty digging. But the thing is, in the fullness of time, the Mask only remembers… things that were ‘important’. Things that were memorable. So you’re comparing yourself to Light knows how many peoples’ best and brightest moments in their entire life, or– sometimes their darkest but most pivotal, or– you get what I mean, I think. I hope.

The Mask doesn’t remember… stubbing your toe on that one damn paving-stone in the Courtyard for the 600th time, or– being petty or mean or cruel by accident, or the day to day mundane lives of its bearers. The Mask doesn’t remember oatmeal for breakfast and lunch and maybe even dinner on a wagon between towns. The Mask doesn’t remember a lot of shit that’s really important if you’re trying to hold it and what it contains up as an exemplar of what your life and conduct ought to be.

It took me a while to learn that, and then a while after that to find a balance that wasn’t just… trying to rebel against the idea of a perfect Sword-Saint. To figure out who Badri was now that he was the Sword-Saint. To figure out who I wanted to be. Certainly took me longer than it’s been since you first wore the Mask, if you really want to compare yourself to an exemplar.

And, again, I should have… told you about this. But you seemed so happy, Salme. And I think you were, but– thinking you’ve found your purpose can be so dangerous. I’m glad you’re finding your self again, now. I’m so very glad.

Yeah I take your point about the comparison and what the Mask remembers but. I mean. I never thought I was worth much even before, you know? Though that’s also … sometimes I’m angry, in a way. We had access to the shrine. We could have written histories. We could have. Carried messages to ourselves. That’s part of … the library I built with Aury is for collaboration and discussion, but it’s also. I want to be remembered. I want all of us to be remembered. It’s my version of the Mask, in some ways. Hopefully a kinder, more joyous one. Hopefully.

And yeah I … never tried to figure out who Salme was as the Sword-Saint. I figured out … what the Sword-Saint needed to be and I was that. And I completely gave up on being myself. On wanting or. Loving, really. Not that I didn’t care—I did—but it was the kind of care at a distance, right?

Again I wasn’t unhappy. I think if things had gone how I thought they were going to go I wouldn’t have been unhappy. But. I’m so happy now. Even with the messiness, and the fucked-uped-ness, I’m so happy. And it’s hard to remember how I was, how I wasn’t unhappy but how I was also very much. I mean, I was waiting to die, Badri.

It seems. Really fucking unfair. And I know I did it to myself, I know it’s the choice I made, I know you had no way of knowing that I’d get that premonition, or I’d measure out the Mask lifecyles, or that I’d even be right, but. Light.

I’m still scared, you know. I have a lot of hope, but the fear that we might fail … I find myself trying to guard against every possibility. I go a little insane about it like. Every few days. I don’t know how to stop. People have failed so many times. I know it’s different, I know—but people have failed so many times.

It brings me more joy than I know how to express, to know that you’re happy, right now. I’ve never not been proud of you, Salme, but I always– hoped to see that.

I don’t think it’s fair to say that you did that to yourself. Could you have done things differently? Certainly, and so could I have. But the Mask and our world laid their burdens on us, Salme, and any sorrow that they caused can’t possibly be our own fault, even if we didn’t handle them with the grace hindsight gives us the capacity to regret.

I also… I certainly can’t say I know you’ll succeed, but it does seem like– the Mask hadn’t had any record of anyone trying to do anything like what you’re doing, right now. So either every trace of anyone walking the worlds was removed from the Mask somehow, or never recorded… or you’re trying something genuinely and completely new, and so you can’t say that others have tried and failed, right?

I don’t know what, if any, comfort that can be, but it’s what I’ve been telling myself ever since you told me what you’d learned and experienced, after you came home.

I mean, as fucked up as I am about the Mask, I’d rather have borne it than anyone else, right? I. It’s strange, to know how something changed you, possibly for the worst, but still being grateful you did it. Who else could I have asked to bear it? I suspect you feel much the same.

And I agree. The fact this hasn’t been tried is. Some kind of hope, I think, for me. Hard to hold on to all the time, but it is a hope.

Though there have been people who’ve walked the planes. There’s a woman from Samudra I’m hoping we get to meet on the Beast. I suspect she’ll have some answers if we can track her down. But the Mask holds no record, and … I cannot be certain, but the Architect was able to burn away the evidence of his actions in the Mask. Luĉja and I were able to repair it, but he had left an a sign of his actions.

Still, trying something new doesn’t necessarily mean it will succeed. It is a damn sight better than knowing how to fix the problem and being unable to.

Onto … happier matters, perhaps, I’ve been. Trying. To craft stories for each of my companions. Poems. Something to tell whenever I get the chance, and I’ve been struggling. I was wondering if maybe you could help me workshop some of it? I have a fiend I use to record my thoughts, but I feel like I’m mostly smacking my forehead against a copy of my forehead.

I’d be happy and honored to help with that, Salme. Sometimes you need to bounce your ideas off of someone else’s forehead, after all.