abheirrant | ❧ i n b o x

[Time continues to flow forward, much like a river -- whether Carlisle learns to navigate the waters himself and move forward, or be drowned beneath their currents as he stagnates, mired in his misery and guilt, is up to him. Given he nearly threw himself into the Cottonmouth on more than one occasion, he can't say he's ever been much of one for trying to move forward. He has survived thus far, telling himself he had to keep moving, but had he actually done so? Had he changed? Was he not still embroiled in the same embittered despair he faced in life, made all the worse by his death?

The uncertainty of his future and his potential to make things worse has always kept him grounded. Genji's advice is good -- better than anything he would give, perhaps -- but Carlisle isn't sure he fully accepts it yet.]

I see.

[He'll have to work on it, as the alternatives -- being so burdened by his remorse that he crumples beneath his self-loathing, either bringing an end to his existence, giving way to a far worse creature like the Blight Heir, or both simultaneously -- are unbearable. As he said to Genji when they last spoke, it isn't easy being angry at oneself; these days, where Carlisle feels he has little value to offer, there is little but anger.

He offers Genji his mask, still reluctant to part with it.]

Is that what your master taught you?

That I learned from my brother.

[There's a wry smile on his face as he takes the mask and turns back to the sink.]

My master taught me the importance of tranquility. I spent so much time fighting, hating, being consumed with bitterness that I had forgotten who I was. And it was difficult to remember when I had this constant reminder that I was not the same person I used to be.

[He looks at his arm, retracting the panel over his shurikens for a moment and then sliding it back with a shnk sound.]

But I was not a good person to begin with. I don't want to be him again. It's better now. Even with all this, even with so many regrets and the burden of what could have been - I will make this better.

[He sounds determined, because he's definitely not there yet. There are days, even here, where he's so consumed with self loathing that he doesn't even leave his room. Not that it would matter because he's talked to so few people they wouldn't notice if he was alive or dead much less if he stayed hidden.

Both a curse and a perk of being a ninja.]

I like to think I was once a decent person, back when I was still a person. It's hard to determine now if I was then. I lived so long in the shadow of my lineage with the guilt, and the remorse, and the bitterness that... my perception of myself is not what it ought to be.

[Especially now that when he looks in the mirror, all he sees is an abomination: a man who, once, was so consumed with bitterness that he forgot who he was.]

How do you keep moving forward? I used to believe things could be better, and that with enough dedication to my work and to my people, I would be absolved of my sins -- maybe even of my affliction and the dreadful fate awaiting me. Now, I wonder if I was a fool for having such faith.

You are never a fool for having faith in yourself and others. Without that we are bitter shells of who we used to be. It's the knowledge that I can change, the hope it will one day be better, even a little bit, that drives me forward.

I would not presume that I can be forgiven for ... many things I have done. But if I can forgive others, that is a burden lifted from them. I can at least offer that.

[Carlisle sighs, feeling defeated; he's already a bitter shell of who he used to be, unsure if he can change for the better. After all, he's done nothing but change for the worse so far. He runs a skeletal hand through his hair, catering to old habits.]

And if you have no one left to forgive but yourself?

That is the hardest one.

[He may be full of tid-bits of wisdom and reasurring sayings from his Master's teachings, but there's only so far that can take him. Even now years later, he's not sure how much he has accepted himself or what he's become, he has good days and bad.]

I'm still not sure of it myself. I suppose you can only continue to move ever forward - distance and time certainly help.

I hope so. That may be the only hope I have currently, but... I do hope so, truly. I would think things could not get worse, but history has proven me wrong on that time and time again. I am afraid to tempt fate further.

[He gives a slight bow from his seat, his head dipping low.]

Thank you for your advice, and your kindness. Only a few know what I truly am, as I fear most would see me as I see myself.

[He chuckles before responding.]

Never think it cannot get worse, then the universe will delight in proving you wrong.

[He knows from experience.]

You are most welcome. No one should be ashamed of who they are.

I had plenty of reasons to be ashamed long before I became a monster.

[He sounds more disgruntled than sad about that, like it's a fact he accepted years ago. He elaborates, wanting to get away from how utterly hopeless he feels about the future by complaining about the past.]

My lineage is one I could not live up to. My father was an adventurer. My uncles, slayers of great beasts. Everyone in my line has been strong, or brave, or gifted with immense power, using their talents for the good of our home. They were hunters and heroes. Legends. And then there's me: clergy. A healer.

[Or once a healer, rather.]

My father was the leader of the entire clan. And I preferred to play video games.

[That's not the same thing, but he's also a failure in the eyes of his family. Yet another thing they have in common.]

What is wrong with being a healer? That is nothing to be ashamed of - you were helping people. I can think of no greater calling.

[He was helping people -- an important distinction. Pleased as it may make him when someone speaks well of his craft, Carlisle can't help but be a little sour on it at the moment, given what he's done both in Anchor and in Bear Den. Healing may have been his natural calling, but his gift for it has backfired in a horrific way. He can't prove it -- even if he returned to Bear Den, everyone he could possibly ask about what truly happened to the town would still be long gone -- but why else would the Blight Heir be able to raise those around him into undeath unless he had the capacity for necrotic arts when alive? Healing and necromancy were two sides of a coin, opposing uses of the same energy.]

There is nothing wrong with being a healer. The problem is that I was a healer, much to my father's dismay. It was not what he had hoped for the only heir of our bloodline.

[Maybe his father was right: he would have been better off honing a different skill, any skill. At least then, maybe things would have been better once he passed, his Revenant being far less of an abom—

Carlisle shakes his head, knowing he will never assuage that guilt, and unsure if he'll ever learn to accept what he is now -- what he's become. It's difficult when he hardly sees himself as a person anymore, but he has to try. He owes those who still have some faith in him -- Genji included -- that much.]

What did he wish of you instead?

[He frowns, hanging the washed gloves and mask over a bar to start drying.]

Is this common for all fathers? Nothing I did was up to my father's standards either. Nor my brother's. Though he is the heir, not I.

[Genji didn't want it. Hanzo did. That seemed a simple solution to him. But apparently their wants didn't matter.]

Being skilled as a healer seems like something to be proud of. At least you did not run your family name into the sewers with parties and dishonorable endeavors.

[Like Genji did.]

[Carlisle lets out a single, sad laugh; the idea of him ruining the Longinmouth name with parties is an impossibility, given his uncle Benistad's numerous liaisons, both romantic and otherwise.]

No, not with parties and dishonorable endeavors. I did my best to uphold my family's reputation in life, despite my affliction and my failings. It was after my death that my ran my family name so far into the ground that it might have been buried there. My father would have preferred I became a proper heir, someone who could fight and defend our lands from the scourge of the undead. Instead, I rose as one of them, as a being known as the Blight Heir. He could draw both the living and the dead under his thrall, and when the former died, unable to resist his whims, they were raised as well.

[His hands tremble; he clasps them together to still them. He hasn't talked about this so openly with anyone, generally unable to formulate how he feels about his having been such an abomination. So few realize he is undead, much less know what he became, and what atrocities he committed. He still wants to consider the Blight Heir as someone else entirely rather than accepting that the actions of his Revenant are a part of him now.

He cannot move forward until he accepts the truth, unfortunately. It's difficult, and he's sure Genji knows it. He, too, was once something he now resents.]

[Maybe it's better that Genji's dishonorable actions could be feasibly explained away as the folly of youth and a spoiled entitlement that came from being his father's favorite. He didn't do anything against his will, all his choices were his own. Even to become the cyborg that he is now.]

Were you aware of what you were doing? That sounds as if forces outside your control were at work.

[Carlisle's eyes flick to Genji, his frustration with himself evident in a look alone; it mirrors that in his voice.]

Does it truly matter? Whether I was aware or not does not change what happened, nor does it bring back the dead. It does not erase from history the burden I placed upon those around me, the damnation of the Longinmouth name, the horrors I committed. But—

[And there is a but, one he didn't mean to let slip, but escapes in his irritation regardless. He continues -- no taking it back, either.]

... but I fear that, in accepting all that I've done, I will see myself as the monster I always believed myself to be. As more of a monster than I am even now. And- and I feel that, should that happen, I will lose what little humanity I have left.

Accepting what you've done does not doom you to that forever. If that were the case than no one would ever be able to change or grow - they'd become stagnant.

Do monsters self-reflect on what they have done? Is that not the most human thing of all?

[Granted Carlisle means a literal monster which is different, and Genji doesn't have all the context here. But if he can forgive his brother for cutting off all his limbs, then Carlisle can forgive himself for being cursed.]

[He thinks to argue that he is already stagnant: he's dead, as unmoving as the water in a blighted bog; he considers bickering that he should be doomed to being a monster forever, for if those he wronged cannot change, why should he be allowed to? However, Genji brings up a good point -- not just that, but words it almost identically to something he said time and time again to those coming to confess at his church.]

Remorse is why we are not monsters; it is what separates us from aberration and undeath. Those which can feel are worthy of living, and therefore have a place 'neath her waking eye. [He smiles that lopsided grin, embarrassed and ashamed.] I would do well to remember such tenets, wouldn't I?

[But it has always been so much harder to follow his own advice than it has been to give it to others. They could change, but he was damned to languish on the border of life and death; they could be forgiven, and he couldn't. All the amends in the world would not save him.

... and yet, he did not give up trying to make them. Even now, undead as he is, he wants to still fix Kieran's eyes, despite the danger it poses him to utilize his energies in such a way; he wants to apologize to Pratt, though he fears rejection from someone whose opinion he genuinely cares about. He hopes Qubit can help him mitigate his abilities so that he is not a danger to everyone around him, stranger or otherwise. He has made some acquaintances, maybe even friends; he is legitimately trying to accept what he is so that he can move forward. Within his many layers and animated frame is a man who desperately wants to help, who wants to be more than he currently is.

He wants to be human, and regrets what the Blight Heir did. That should count for something, and would if Carlisle would allow it.]

[The words are recited as if it's some sort of spiritual mantra, a tone that he recognizes from his time in the monastery. There's even some familiarity there, the waking eye, we are all one beneath the iris - maybe they have some similar beliefs.]

Precisely. But I know it is hard to do so, to apply such things to yourself when they seem better suited to others.

All we can do is continue to try - maybe eventually there will be acceptance. And then redemption, and that is all we can ask for.

I suppose it is all we can ask for. I was given neither acceptance, nor redemption in life, but... perhaps that is because I sought it from others rather than myself.

[And frankly, he thinks he has a better chance getting his aloof goddess' attention than finding forgiveness for his failings within his own embittered heart; however, it's clear he will never find solace if he doesn't search at all. Would he have done better to have accepted his affliction sooner, living life to the fullest rather than in constant fear of himself? Would he have been less remorseful about what happened to his family if he'd allowed himself to grieve rather than blaming himself for being cursed? Would he have had any lingering regrets at all upon his death, enough to animate him as a Revenant?

He does not know; he cannot know. He must accept that those are questions to which he will never know the answers rather than allowing himself to become mired in the doubts of what-ifs. That's the most challenging task of all, and one he's not sure he's up for.

But he will try. He must.]

What started as simply laundry day has given me much to consider. Much to reflect upon.

The simplest tasks are often the most important.

[He smiles softly as he dries off his hands and starts sliding the armor back down over his arm.]

My Master used to say that often, and I never truly understood. I suppose hearing it and experiencing it are different.

I hope one day I shall be able to tell him I finally get it.

[Carlisle does his best not to stare, but he can't help his interest in how the armor slides down over Genji's arm, the plates fitting together so perfectly.]

Let us hope you are taken back to him, and that he is not brought here.

[It took a long time to get to this, his previous armor came off in chunks and it took him forever to get into and out of it.]

He would probably enjoy this, he likes adventures and new experiences. Meeting new people.

[Genji can actually picture Zenyatta floating around exclaiming: How wonderful! at basically everything here.]

I, however; would rather it be as you hope.

Do you live with him? Your master.

[Tell him all about your home, Genji. Anything to take his mind off himself for a minute.]

I did for a time. He lived in Nepal high up in a temple in the mountains.

There is still a room for me should I desire to return.

[With his worldly possessions: some clothes, a photo, the sword his brother used to cut him to pieces...]

It was so peaceful there. Tranquil. The first time I truly felt as though I was myself and not a hybrid of two disparate things.

A temple? Like a church, then?

[He recalls that Genji did say his master was a monk of some sort, a follower of a god he doesn't recognize. He wonders what kinds of gods the other worlds have, and if they are as aloof as his own.]

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