Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
at adventu, we believe that colorful story and plots far outweigh the need for a battle system. rp should be about the writing, the fun, and the creativity. you will see that the only system on our site is the encouragement to create amazing adventures with other members. welcome to adventu... how will you arrive?
year 5, quarter 3
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The Warrior was nearly dragging his feet on the way to Provo. While his body had been healed from the major battle against Belias by his new companion, Sir Wiegraf Folles, his spirit was teeming with exhaustion. It had been major battle after major battle for the nameless knight, first with Chaos in Torensten and after, the difficult, literal bone-crushing battle in the Forest of Illusions. His heart was heavy with worry, about Garland, about Chaos, about this world. He felt as if he was back to square one, nothing but a man lost in a giant world.
The sounds of civilization brought some comfort to him. Provo appeared to be untouched by the disaster that had struck Torensten. The trade town was brimming with people of all colors, shapes, and sizes, carrying a little bit of everything over their shoulders, set up in their stands. As the Warrior passed by each of them his eyes couldn’t help but drift. All kinds of trinkets sparkled, all manner of foods and beverages, someone was even selling exotic beasts of some sort. It was … comforting. It reminded him of his travels, with his fellow warriors of light.
It brought a smile to his face, to imagine Sauber trying to thieve his way into these stands, or someone’s pockets. And Oran, his sweet and quiet white mage, he’d probably fawn over the stand of books that was towering in the corner. Aria would likely join her brother, tossing away his more peaceful books for powerful spells that gave even the Warrior a shiver down his spine and a spark of awe. And Lucy, she would lead him around by the wrist, pointing things out to him, informing him as to what they were, stopping at the stands to observe the wares, answering his odd questions with her sweet patience.
The Warrior stopped in his tracks, hardly noticing when others bumped into him, throwing a few curses his way for his sudden halt. Sadness swelled in his heart. He saw his friends everywhere he went, imagined them by his side, yet, they were gone. He’d only seen Sauber, and that was short lived as they agreed to go their separate ways in hopes of gaining some intel about this world. No, the nameless knight was alone, he felt alone. He’d made new friends and allies in this world, but his heart still ached for home. For the beautiful scenery of Cornelia, for the companionship of the knight Garland, for the adventures and company of his friends.
He sighed, moving off to the side of the busy road. The Warrior removed his helmet, running a hand through his hair, before tying the helmet to his side, alongside his sword and shield. He needed to take some time to relax and think. He had money to spend, thanks to the helpful friends he’d made back at the Temple. Perhaps this would be a good time to settle for a single night, reflect, eat a decent meal and get a good night’s sleep. Maybe that would clear his head a bit.
The nameless knight quickly made his way to the Inn to take a room for the night (“what do you mean you don’t have a name? No, you can’t sign as the Warrior of Light, what kind of shit is that. Just sign it Wally, that’ll do. If anyone asks, that’s who you are.”), though he didn’t waste time settling in. He ventured back into the busy trade district still in full armor, though with his helmet still at his side for convenience sake. He was quick to spot the wine vendor, hurrying along through the crowd to trade for the heavy, but delicious drink. Typically, he’d only enjoy a glass or so when friends offered it, however, he was alone. Alone, and knowledgeable about how wine could help him feel nothing for just a night.
His pocket was lighter of currency, but he now had a couple of bottles of port tied to his waist instead. It brought him some comfort, albeit very little, to know that as the sun set and disappeared over the horizon, so too would his dreary outlook.
The Warrior stood off to the side of the busy vendors, counting how much money was left in his small pouch. Others passed him quickly, paying him less mind and, if anything, giving him a bit of berth after eyeing his sword. He had more than enough for a decent meal for the night, probably three or four more. It was perhaps unwise to spend so much all at once, on an room at the inn, on two bottles of port, on a decent, hot meal.
But what was the price, for a night of relief?
The nameless knight turned his cool, blue eyes back to the street of vendors, searching for something, anything that may appeal to his near invisible appetite.
From the west. There will never be a one, to take her place.
What was in a birthday? By definition, it was the day that a human being first came into the world; the day of their birth, whether it was something to celebrate or something to lament. All people had a birthday; when it came down to it, a birthday was something that someone couldn’t exist without having. Even if you weren’t aware of the day of your birth, even if you don’t pay attention to the days of the years as they pass, you still have one of them. No matter how mundane or special you are, you have one.
And for the young woman that had come to be known - at least in her homeworld - as the red mage of light, this remained the same. She was the youngest of all of her peers, younger than some of them by about a decade, give or take, and that was without even taking the Warrior into account. Even in a world that was not the one that she was from, she still recognized when a day was her birthday. She had known that it was going to be when she entered that portal to come home, to go back to Cornelia, but…
Instead, she ended up here. Where here was exactly, she wasn’t sure, which was an amazing feat in and of itself because along with the other warriors of light she had travelled all over their world and back again. This town, this ‘Provo,’ was most decidedly not of their world. The events that people spoke of seemed to be things that never happened and, admittedly, some of them were most… disconcerting, to say the least. The first thing that she had heard had been about Chaos, of all beings.
Or at least, someone that sounded suspiciously like him. Something called out to her when she heard about it, but it wasn’t something that she could place; she hoped that things had been exaggerated and that they weren’t nearly as bad as they were made out to be, but was that ever the case? Her time spent travelling the world as they defeated Chaos on their world showed her that, no, it didn’t seem to be. Wherever she was now, why would things be different? The more things differed, the more that they stayed the same.
Her white hair streamed down her body, contrasting against the blood red of her cape, and causing it to shimmer in the dimming sun of the day. Her armor, appearing as though it were made of some sort of platinum material; it wasn’t clear exactly what it was, not even to Lucy herself, but it was comfortable and it was functional, and even among the crowds of this strange place it didn’t feel as though she was out of place. Her sword hung at her side, and her brimmed hat covered her face, covering ruby hues from any sort of explicit sight.
No one stared. No one scoffed. She blended right in… and it was a strange feeling that she got in response to it. Part of her wanted to draw attention to herself but the other part, what she believed to be the more rational part in that moment, told her that this was fine. As she moved along the pavement, swaying in and out of the crowds, her boots clacked against the cobblestone pavement. It was funny-- in some ways, this place reminded her of home. Of Cornelia. She hadn’t seen nearly enough of it, she figured, but perhaps she was already homesick.
It was mostly the idea that she would never be able to see home again that got to her. The idea that she somehow arrived here without her… friends, if that’s what she could call them, and that she would never see them again either. But surely they had to be here, right? They had all entered the time warp together, the odds were that they all ended up in this place… surely? Unless she was forgetting something, something important, but she didn’t believe that was the case.
It couldn’t have been. Her memory was perfect, absolutely flawless even! She was confident that nothing was going on in her mind that she didn’t approve of. Especially not any sort of amnesia.
She continued through the crowd, her eyes scanning the vendors and their patrons, and it was a good thing too. Otherwise, she might have missed him. She stepped right past him at first, and then something in her mind clicked, and she stopped again. Her white bangs fell loosely in her face and she leaned backward, her armor making it nearly impossible to move in the way that she wanted it to. She craned her neck and tried to get a better look; the visage of that man looked familiar. Maybe even more wizened than she was used to, but definitely familiar.
Quite familiar, in fact.
She stepped a few paces back, and quickly too, not caring for the people that gave her a wide berth and definitely not for the ones that knocked into her and then cursed her as she walked. She stopped when she was standing right in front of him, and then turned towards his figure. She stepped forward, pushing free of the crowd. She wasn’t sure that he noticed her, but she was sure it was him, so she spoke up.
“Warrior,” her voice was clear and loud. He’d see her, and he’d answer.
The crowd was passing by quickly, like a school of fish in the sea. The Warrior absent-mindedly fiddled with the bag of coins in his hand, rubbing a finger over the surface of one occasionally, his eyes lost over the flood of beings before him. Even as he half-assedly searched for something else to buy, the energy to do so was leaving him. The heavy bottles of port tied to his waist subtly reminded him that he didn’t have to continue to exude this effort on spoiling himself for the day. He could simply go back to his room at the Inn, drink until he couldn’t feel anything, and pass out and deal with the next day when it came.
Though, just as such thoughts were beginning to overtake him, the nameless knight swore he’d heard his name called, loud and clear, by a familiar voice. That was impossible though, he hadn’t seen her in ages.
His gaze drifted downward, to a familiar hat and mess of white hair, her voice still ringing in his ears.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. For a moment, the Warrior seemed merely confused, slowly blinking his crystal blue eyes as if waiting for the image to disappear. Then, it began to set in that Lucy Arkwright really was standing in front of him, and that she was no figment of his imagination. His eyebrows creeped upwards, his eyes widened. Slowly his jaw began to drop with disbelief, and his breath caught in his chest. Gone was the tired, weariness from his face, lit now only by shock, and a growing elation.
As shocked and elated as the Warrior could appear, anyway. It was still quite subtle, as far as normal was considered.
“Lucy,” the nameless knight finally breathed, “By the god’s, Lucy is it truly you?”
He moved forward, spurred by the overwhelming flood of emotions in his heart. The Warrior closed the small distance between the two and reached down, wrapping the young red mage in a familiar, tight hug. He brought her to his chest, clinking their armor together, careful not to get his gloved hand tangled in her hair. He’d been so worried for her, thought of her all this time, and here she was in front of him. The young, talented Red Mage, his friend, the girl with such a fiery spirit that he simply adored. For just a few moments he held her close, afraid that if he let go, she would vanish away.
By some power he was finally able to release her, but instead, began to fret over her appearance. Her armor looked unscathed, at least, no new scratches that he could easily identify. There were no marks on her face, no bruises he could see. She didn’t appear overly tired or starved, an excellent sign, one that he couldn’t share himself. After he was sure he’d checked her over, the Warrior finally stood back up straight, his eyes never leaving her.
But, where did he start from here? Did he ask her how she got here, how long she’d been here? Did he inquire about her health? Did he simply gush from the excitement of seeing her, seeing anyone he knew, finally allowing the relief to wash over him that yes, his friends were indeed okay and yes, they were here as well? Was that a good thing, or a bad thing?
There were simply too many questions, and not enough answers. In fact, when he thought about the last time he’d seen Lucy, the details were … fuzzy. Another issue with his memory, and another time he simply wasn’t surprised by it. Ah, but did it matter? Lucy was here now, with him. It brought a comfort and joy to his heart that had been lost for quite some time.
The Warrior offered her a genuinely warm smile, the first he’d had cross his face in quite some time. He was simply overjoyed to be in her presence once more, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. He felt revitalized, re-energized. The knight hardly felt the ache in his feet or the weight of his heavy spirit. He couldn’t help but keep a hand on her shoulder, to keep her close.
“I fear I do not know which question to ask you first,” the Warrior spoke, somewhat amused, relieved, and worried all in one, “Where you have been, how you arrived in this world..”
The nameless knight thought for a moment, allowing his nerves to settle, forcing his heart to slow from its excited pace. He hoped not to overwhelm the young Red Mage with his excited greeting, but he simply couldn’t control himself. Finally settling on a thought, he bent back down to be more level with her, and so he wouldn’t have to strain to hear her over the crowd.
Blue eyes met red once more, “I suppose I should ask you what is most important.” The Warrior smiled, just barely resting his hand on the famed hat on her head in a comforting gesture, “How are you doing?”
From the west. There will never be a one, to take her place.
It was clear that the Warrior had been through something that, to anyone else, would have been a traumatic experience. His armor was dingey, filled from head to toe with knicks, and when she had last seen him-- to her, something that felt like it was hours ago-- his armor had been as clean and spotless as hers had been, even if they were battle worn from the rigorous battle with Chaos. There were lines on his face that hadn’t been there before, that told her she’d missed some passing time… but how long? And how was that possible?
She wasn’t sure, but there was at least a part of her that knew it was possible. Perhaps he had been shunted into more cycles after they were able to defeat the beast; perhaps they didn’t do something right and he was forced to suffer more, and more, and more. It pained Lucy to think that her friend would have to do something like that without her, but she only allowed herself to keep it on her mind for a moment or two before moving on. Perhaps it was something else entirely.
She was willing to bet that, unlike her, the Warrior hadn’t just arrived here today. He’d been here for quite some time if she were to wager a guess, and definitely far longer than she had. Ruby eyes swept over his features and she let out a sigh-- it was definitely him, though things were… strange. The wine hanging from his hips told her that whatever had happened, it wasn’t good. There was a part of her that wished she could have helped him.
There was another part of her that knew that the Warrior was fine; perhaps a bit jaded, but he could handle more than most. He responded, and she smiled-- a small smile, but it was there. A smile that surely the Warrior had grown used to over the multiple cycles that they spent together.
“Of course it is me,” She said, and then paused for a moment. “Who else would it be? Some sort of spectre, created by the chaos in my guise to throw you off? Some sort of.. mannequin, if you will? A puppet?” As she suggested it, she realized how ridiculous the idea of it all actually sounded. She would have thought that it was even more ridiculous if she might have known how true such a thing as this was in the previous cycles-- or even if she had known that things such as the cycle existed in the first place.
He moved forward with shocking speed for the armor that he adorned on his features, and Lucy froze in response. Her white hair fell over her shoulders, and she was hugged close to the blue armor adorned knight. It was a familiar hug, though… rare, and certainly not the type of response that she might have been expecting. Her arms stayed at her sides for a moment, until she rose them hesitanty. “I… I…” She stammered, eyes darting back and forth at first.
“It is good to see you, Warrior… I…” She paused again, suddenly aware of the fact that the warrior smelled of battle. His hair was tangled in knots and his armor was actually far worse for wear than she was used to; even after the most rigorous of battle he would seem to make it a point to repair his armor, so whatever he must have went through was something more than Lucy had seen. In comparison, she looked practically like an angel. Her armor shimmered in the light from the sky, which also reflected off of her hair. The red of her cape, her hat, and her boots was bright and beautiful.
Of the warriors of light, the Warrior was the one that had seen the most of them and yet he continue on. She idolized him for that, and had since she was a little girl… right alongside Garland, though it proved that her trust in the latter was misplaced. She was glad to know, at least for now, that wasn’t the case with the Warrior. If he was nothing else, he was consistent, he was loyal… he was one of the most wonderful friends that she could have asked for. Finally, after what felt like hours but was only mere moments of her pondering things, she clasped her arms against his back.
The ‘clink’ that their armors made as they touched together was… refreshing. If only for a lack of a better word. They pulled away from one another, and he smiled-- she smiled in turn. And that was when the questions started. “Warrior, hold, one question at a time, please!” She laughed. It felt like it had been such a long time since she’d laughed, though she couldn’t have been asked to say why. She wasn’t sure of that herself. She took a step back, and took a deep breath, as he came to the end of his barrage of questions.
“First, if you’d believe it… I just arrived here today, and I’m not sure how. Before this, we had entered the time portal to return back to Cornelia. We’d just defeated Chaos. So… I suppose that you could say... I’m well. Where are we, Warrior?”
apologies, this isn't super great. Accursed jetlag.
Surprise overtook the Warrior, barely folding it’s way onto his face. A small quirk of the eyebrows, his eyes shining a curious glint.
Lucy had only arrived in this new world that very day. From the sound of it, she ended up here while she should have been returning to Cornelia 2000 years into the future. The nameless knight could recall that very instance in his mind, after the defeat of Chaos, after the crystals washed the world of evil, light and harmony spread. In his time, it seemed, Lucy had been beside him. He recounted all of them returning to Cornelia together, successful and happy. From there, it was … Fuzzy, at best. However, it gave him more insight of how this world worked, how it behaved. It could draw people from anywhere, at any given time, from their home.
He pushed the thought from his mind, temporarily. He would come back it when the timing was better.
Instead, the Warrior let the small, warm smile he reserved for the Red Mage back to his face. He’d need to fill her in on everything that he knew -- they were friends and allies, after all -- but it would be quite the tale. Something meant to be discussed off of a busy street full of noise and impatient vendors.
“This is the city of Provo, I’ve heard it called,” he responded, while simultaneously motioning for Lucy to follow him, “A small piece of a much larger, confusing world.”
The nameless knight set off down a road separate of the merchants and their many wares, more towards the living area of the city. He recalled seeing a few pubs of sorts after leaving the Inn, a perfect place to have a long discussion while also curing his ravenous hunger. While seeing Lucy had brought much joy to his heart, perhaps an extra bit of pep in his step, it did not cure the knight of all that ailed him. An aching body, a hungry stomach, an unquenchable thirst. The state of his body was now more of an issue to him, feeling rather exposed as he had greeted Lucy with such damaged armor, singed hair, and dirty dress. He appeared, more or less, like the fiends had quite literally chewed him up, and spit him out into a bonfire.
The Warrior was quiet a moment as they walked, past many plain, close buildings, the sound of the armor bouncing off of the stone walls.
“I have much to tell you about my tales in this world, perhaps a theory as to why we were summoned here,” he spoke calmly, reaching over to set a gloved hand on her shoulder as they walked, “However, I hope you do not mind me sharing such a story over a shared meal. I am afraid I’m as terrible at caring for my own well being as I ever have been.”
He spoke with a much needed hint of humor in his voice. For the first time in many, many weeks, the Warrior felt relaxed. He wasn’t on high alert, his sword wasn’t raised, he wasn’t bleeding or screaming or fighting. No, for the first time in a while, he was merely trading friendly talk with a friend, someone who brought peace to his troubled and weary soul. Every time his blue eyes stole a glance at Lucy, her red hat, her pristine armor, her ruby eyes, it melted more tension away from him. She brought him more comfort than he could ever describe, and more joy than he could ever explain.
Something was itching at the back of his mind, though. Something that had to do with Lucy, with the day the defeated Chaos.
What was it?
As they approached the pub the Warrior recalled seeing before, he froze on the spot. Realization hit him all at once, akin to a blow to the head. He frowned, looking at Lucy for a moment, his hand still resting on her shoulder. Though they had been pulled to this world from different points in time, the nameless knight remembered what day it would be for her. The celebration that they would have had when they reached Cornelia, not just for the defeat of Chaos and restoring peace to the world, but for a very special member of their little band of heroes.
“Today is your birthday,” the Warrior uttered, as if it were some novel discovery that had shook him to his very core, “The day we defeated Chaos, it was your birthday..”
And for a moment, he seemed lost in thought.
From the west. There will never be a one, to take her place.
“This world is not the one that we are used to, then?” That was the first thing that Lucy clung onto of the Warrior’s explanation as to where they were. The name of the city was unfamiliar to her and the way that he spoke, the rest of the world would have been much the same. She wasn’t sure yet if that disappointed her, excited her, or both. And if it as both she definitely couldn’t say, in this moment, which of the two she felt more of-- disappointment or excitement. She didn’t have the time to ponder it, either. Not really.
She followed after him. Not closely, but not too far away either. She was clearly distracted by the new city-- she kept her eyes on certain individuals that seemed seedier than others and when the moment seemed to call for it, she gave them a flash of her sword or of a spell and they seemed to back right off. She may have been young, and this place may have been new to her, but she was still one of the Light Warriors; she was still greatly experienced, despite her age.
Provo was beautiful in its own right, and terrifying, just as the idea that they were in a new world was. Did they finish their mission in another time? Did they reach Cornelia? There were so many questions that she wanted to ask the Warrior, but she knew that winding through the cobblestone streets of Provo was definitely not the time. The city didn’t seem the safest, and what would happen if someone overheard them? Perhaps nothing, perhaps everything.
Tales? A theory as to why they were summoned? Just how long had he actually been here, exactly? She had been able to tell that he had been here a longer time than she had, but she couldn’t assume exactly how long it was. She wished that she could but that didn’t seem to be in the cards. Her shoulder tingled at his touch, a familiar sensation, and she shook her head. “No, please. We did such things all the time during or journey.”
The memories of the warriors sitting around the campfire were some of her favorites. Why wouldn’t they be? She enjoyed the camaraderie. Something that she didn’t have back in Cornelia.
And then he stopped. Lucy stopped too, in response, and quirked an eyebrow at the man that was just… standing there, now. “What is it? Warrior?” Her voice was high and she was on alert, because this wasn’t something that the Warrior normally did. Were they under attack? Was something else going on here? Her hand went to the hilt of her sword, just in case something was about to happen. This was Lucy now. Always on edge, it seemed; always on guard. And then… the response was something she wasn’t expecting.
She blinked. He was right, of course. “I…” She stammered for a moment, crossing her arms over her armor and nodding her head slowly. “Yes, it was. It is. But it is really nothing to be bothered over, Warrior. There are more important things than a birthday.”
As the Warrior pondered over his revelation, he still appeared in his typical fashion. His eyes were narrowed, brows furrowed in intense thought. His body was stiff and rigid, always tense and on alert. Though his hand was not on his blade, it was clear in his body language that he could draw it in a moments notice, with nothing to be heard but the whip of a blade cutting through air. He was always on edge -- something he attempted to teach to his Red Mage companion. He could not hone her magical abilities, that was something reserved for Oran and Aria, but he prided himself on teaching Lucy to be one with her environment, and one with her sword.
It was Lucy’s voice, soft and firm, that cut through his thoughts. Of course, she was quick to get back to the point of hand. It had always impressed the nameless knight, how mature and grown she seemed for being so young.
After all, he’d dealt with many men and women twice her age with half of the maturity.
He watched her for a moment, his light blue eyes thoughtful, his lips barely turned downwards for a frown. Of course, to Lucy, her birthday didn’t seem so important. While the Warrior couldn’t pretend to know whatever went on in any of his companion’s minds, he’d noticed more than once how she seemed to push attention off of herself. Much like he himself did. Neither of them were made to be the center of attention, they both played an awkward part for it. For the Warrior, he merely had no past worthy of note. No known friends, no family, no true home. When the spotlight shifted towards him he simply had nothing to say, because he had nothing. He was much more interested in learning about, and from, his newfound friends.
It had been Lucy who demanded that he now have a birthday. She told him her birthday, told him they would share a birthday from now on.
While he may have seemed nothing but perplexed at the time, it was something he now cherished more than most anything. Those memories. The comfort of his friends and allies at his sides.
He had been alone in this strange world for far too long.
Letting a few moments pass, the Warrior finally cracked a very small smile, “That may very well be true. However, I have well learned that not every day and night should be filled with tension, anxiety, and chaos.”
He finally approached the pub and held the door open for Lucy, giving a slight nod for her to enter, “After reliving all that has happened here, you may better understand why I would wish for a night of simple happiness and celebration.”
The two armored warriors were whisked into the tavern, and quickly seated. It was hardly populated, not at midday, and they hardly garnered any odd glances, maybe a quick turn of the head or two. However, they were seated close to the exit, and next to a window. The hostess, a middle aged woman dressed in simple, but revealing wear, dropped off a couple of glasses of water for the two of them before wandering off to gather everything else they may need.
The Warrior sat with a sigh, feeling the ache of his muscles settle as he forced himself to relax. He was forced to set his wares -- the bottles of port, his helmet, and most everything else that had been tied to his hip in the seat next to him, against the wall. While the sun shined through the windows, the pub still gave off a somewhat dim atmosphere, causing his eyes to appear that much more tired, that much more worn. He’d left the cloak given to him in Torensten back at his room in the Inn, not much wanting to be bothered by the locals for information about what had happened there. With one gloved hand he tucked back a strand of unruly, white hair, before allowing himself to fully relax. Tension left his shoulders, his eyes stopped darting over the rest of the restaurant and bar. He simply turned his focus onto Lucy, feeling another very small, natural smile spread across his face.
Merely looking at her brought peace to his soul.
As the waitress returned, the Warrior ordered something for them to share, trading the woman some of the gil he’d stockpiled. She only seemed somewhat wary of the two, but after becoming paying customers, she seemed a little more receptive to the battered and dirty knight and his companion. She turned and left them in peace, for the moment.
The Warrior seemed pensive for a moment, as if trying to decide what to say. Tired, malnourished, and dehydrated, he was hardly at his sharpest. For a moment, it was as if he was going to say nothing at all. Instead he reached a hand out to one of the bottles of port, pulling the cork from the neck with ease. Without shame, not that he had any to begin with, the nameless knight took a swig of the strong, dark drink. Spices and malt danced on his tongue, and each swallow burned his throat pleasantly.
For that small moment in time, the Warrior merely looked like any war-torn man. Exhausted, beaten and battered, dirty, his eyes quiet and hollow, staring off into space thinking about god-knows-what. Taking a moment to disassociate himself with reality. To shake off the visions of bloody massacre that haunted him.
His gaze drifted back to Lucy, before dropping to the table. His gloved fingers tapped the wood, and his small smile seemed incredibly empty and weak.
Being in Lucy’s presence brought him much comfort. She soothed his cracked and torn spirit. However, to tell her his tale would mean to relive his failures. To revisit broken and bloodied Torensten, and all the lives that were lost because he simply wasn’t fast enough or strong enough to save them.
Never before had he been so afraid to speak of his troubles and failures. He was much more used to being the strong, inspiring figure that never backed down, that never looked back, that never held onto such silly things as regret. The Warrior always put one foot in front of the other, always drew his sword, always pushed everyone along when they needed it. Yet, here he was, afraid to open his mouth and pour out his own soul to the young girl he so cherished.
It would be hard on him to relive it. It would be hard on her to hear it, he knew, her heart was so big and she cared for all of their friends so. All he wanted to do was wash it away, so that they could spend and evening together smiling, trading fun stories, training, laughing.
“I am not sure where to even begin,” the Warrior finally spoke, his voice laced with the exhaustion he was typically so quick to hide. Watching Lucy, his heart felt warm. But, his spirit was bruised, bleeding, cracked and worn. He sighed, taking another deep drink from the bottle he’d bought to numb everything, “I have been here so much longer than you. So much has happened to me, to this world and the people in it…”.
From the west. There will never be a one, to take her place.
