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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Kuja could tell in an instant that he’d spoken well. The wordplay had been nothing but his own playful musing, but it seemed the man’s adoration for poetry was as fanatical as it was sincere. Kuja’s lips twitched at the man’s passion, at the adoration in his gaze that had nothing to do with Kuja’s physical beauty. It was a welcome sight, and one that he’d dare say he deserved after the dismal month he’d suffered.
Kuja drained the last of his wine. His own seductive power was intoxicating.
As was the conversation. Kuja’s eyes flicked to Genesis. ’A festering pool of excess?’ Realization lit within him -- passionate and sharp. Kuja knew well that such hot disdain never satisfied itself with inactivity. No, Genesis had made his own attempts at toppling the institution he so hated. Something fluttered inside him.
His warming blood had nothing to do with the wine.
”The queen?” Laughter rose to his lips, light and chiming. ”It would be fallacious to call it a match at all. No, while she thought herself a player, she was truly nothing but a pawn.” Kuja raised a head at the waitress as she drifted over. He ordered a glass of the same, meeting her eye with a smile. Once she’d scurried away, he turned his attention to Genesis once more.
”’A festering pool of excess and greed.’” Kuja circled his finger across the table, touching his sharpened nail at its edges. ”It was like poetry. A gluttonous women struck by the hands of hubris and her own greed. A nobility so complacent in their power that they failed to recognize that it could ever be threatened. One could say that they ’got what they deserved.’”
Kuja looked closely into Genesis’ eyes, as vivid as the planet’s light. He smiled knowingly. ”And what of you? Could you find beauty in it?”
Genesis tilted his head to the side as Kuja called the queen a pawn. “Oh? Sounds like quite the story,” he commented, resting his chin on his fingers as he waited for their wine refills. At this point, Genesis was fairly certain that Kuja had at least arranged for her downfall, if not outright murdered her. It made him consider the man a little more carefully, but really, who was he to judge for trying to topple a government? From the way Kuja seemed to relish his choice of words in ‘a festering pool of excess of greed,’ it seemed he could relate to the sentiment. The queen had probably deserved whatever had happened to her.
Anyway, the wine warming his veins paired with Kuja’s wit and beauty was more than enough to make up for a little danger in this encounter. If anything, the glint in his eyes made it all the more enticing.
“Got what they deserved,” Genesis echoed Kuja with a short laugh. He could somehow see it. Would he have murdered them himself with the fire he could call to his fingertips? Would he have gotten the army on his side and used them instead? What did his laugh sound like when he had bested his enemies? Genesis wanted to ask, but that was probably a conversation best suited for privacy and another bottle of wine.
And what of you? Could you find beauty in it?
Genesis met his eyes over their empty glasses, and he wanted to ask what he was meant to find beauty in, but it really didn’t matter. Beauty in what Kuja had done? Beauty in giving people what they deserved? Beauty in this encounter? The answer was yes.
The waitress came to bring them their fresh glasses of wine, and Genesis smiled over the rim at him as he let Loveless do the talking for him. “My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment to find the end of the journey in my own salvation and your eternal slumber,” he recited before taking a long sip and considering the blood-red liquid in his glass. “To plan for months while having to carry on as normal? And then taking their power away from them? Oh yes. I can find beauty in that.” He glanced back up at Kuja. “I can imagine your moment of triumph was wonderful.”
He really should have stopped there, but the fourth glass of wine was starting to get to him. “I tasted it only briefly before my downfall.” He had a moment of calm before regret hit him at what had possessed him to say that. His eyes flicked back up to Kuja as he tried to gauge his reaction, while filling in the silence with Loveless. “Pride is lost. Wings stripped away, the end is nigh.”
That probably wasn’t the best quote to dial anything back, but he couldn’t lie with Loveless. That would be blasphemy.
There was that quote again -- the one that Kuja had already taken to most. ’My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment to find the end of the journey in my own salvation and your eternal slumber.’ What a beautiful line. Kuja sipped his wine (how many glasses was this now?) and played through the stanza with an almost luxurious fascination. His soul, corrupted by vengeance. Tormented day after day to find salvation and end his creator. The lines were so simple, and yet carried with them a beauty that permeated his very blood. In that moment, the message and the messenger intertwined, and Genesis’ eyes reflected back at him as their persona. Vengeance, salvation, the drive to achieve it. They carried a human face now -- a face angled in auburn hair.
The moment of triumph. Kuja laughed softly, letting his finger drift across the table in lazy circles. It had been wonderful. The queen’s own pet turned against her. The flare of pure magic casting it her way. Her panic. The creak of shattered, splintering wood. And then -- Alexander.
His stomach twisted. No, that was not his moment of triumph. His master had stolen it away from him just as he always had. His lips pursed as his failure circled again and again in quiet rhythm.
Failure. He was always a failure. Even as he’d rendered the greatest empire on earth asunder, he was greeted by nothing but disdain. Nothing he did would ever be enough. Nothing-
”I tasted it only briefly before my downfall.”
Kuja glanced to him. Had he been brooding? He scowled and pushed a handful of hair behind his ear. That was not the face he wished to wear tonight. No, he’d come for pleasure, and here he was, wallowing in his own pity. Yet the words rose of their own will -- tainted and bitter.
”Is it better to taste triumph if it’s ultimately stolen away? ’My soul, corrupted by vengeance....’” He seized his wine glass and took a long swallow. His head was heavy with it. ”Was it another who stole it? Someone you would give anything to bring to ruin? I plotted for years, played their games, brought myself the highest peak, and then…”
He cut himself off. He’d said too much. Kuja glanced to Genesis in surprise before taking his glass and leaning back moodily against the cool vinyl of the booth. Well, there went any chance of alluring the man further. Kuja sipped his wine, his pauldrons pressed forward so his back sank against them. He might as well ask for the check before Genesis could press any further.
Genesis had been so caught up in his own musing that he hadn’t really noticed until now that Kuja’s expression had changed. Somewhere along the line he had gone from looking interested and engaged to a more petulant look, and Genesis tilted his head slightly as he wondered if it was something that he had said. Perhaps he’d been a little too honest about his own actions against Shinra?
However, after Kuja went on a bitter rant that he abruptly cut himself off from finishing, Genesis had a better idea of what the problem was. It seemed that he’d touched a nerve. Did that mean that Kuja had met his own downfall in his quest for revenge? He watched the man with interest as Kuja paused to take a sip of wine, pressing back against the booth’s leather seat though he’d been leaned forward up until now.
I doubt you’d understand.
Ouch. Quite the dismissal. Genesis pursed his lips, deciding that he was probably meant to either comfort the man or leave. Pity that he’d never been great at either.
“Well I certainly won’t if you’re determined to leave it off there,” he said with a slight roll of his eyes. “But I abandoned that goddess-awful opera and came here because you’re welcome to try me. In any sense of the term.” He drained the last of his (fourth?) glass of wine before setting down the empty glass at the edge of the table.
“Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess,” he explained, before remembering Kuja’s earlier question. “And alas, no. My victory wasn’t stolen by someone I hated, but by someone who didn’t matter to me in the slightest. A random first-class soldier who meant so well that he could never understand why I wanted them to fall. Even after being experimented on and betrayed by them. A 'hero' to the end.” He smiled a tad bitterly.
Genesis’ lips tightened. Kuja was right then. Despite everything, he’d somehow soured what should have been inevitable. Genesis said he was “welcome to try him,” but the thought could have made Kuja laugh. Try him with what? The sickening realization that Garland had known his intentions from the start? The utter ruin of everything he had ever worked for? His failure to justify his own existence?
”And alas, no. My victory wasn’t stolen by someone I hated, but by someone who didn’t matter to me in the slightest.”
Kuja hesitated before raising his eyes. Genesis’ smile had bittered as he considered some insignificant no one with an unbreakable spirit and a sword. A hero to the end. Kuja gave him an odd look. Well, that was something else they had in common then. A general sense of disdain for heroics.
“Not exactly first date talk though, is it?”
Kuja opened his mouth, closed it, and then laughed. It was so pointed and obvious that he couldn’t help it. How hard had the wine really hit him? This wasn’t like him at all.
”No. Nor any date’s talk if I had my way.” His lips twitched into a smirk. ”It must be the wine. Or maybe the thoughts that led me to it.” He laughed under his breath again before tilting his head and meeting Genesis’ gaze.
”I’ll cut through the pretenses if you don’t mind. I find you beautiful, and your passion for poetry even more so.” Kuja sat forward with an almost challenging smile. ”I’ll call for the check. What comes next I’ll leave up to you, though I know how I’d like the evening to end.” He pushed back a handful of hair from his eyes. Had it smeared his makeup? He hoped not.
"I have a room not far from here. If you'd care to follow."
Genesis thought he must have at least somewhat succeeded in easing the tension as Kuja laughed and claimed that he wasn’t normally like this. He made an excuse that he must have drank too much alcohol. Now that was certainly true. The evidence was in the empty wine glasses scattered around them. Genesis cast the dregs of red wine staining the glass bottoms a brief glance as Kuja seemed to shake himself and suddenly regain his charm from earlier.
“What comes next I’ll leave up to you, though I know how I’d like the evening to end.”
Genesis paused for a moment, meeting Kuja’s inviting eyes and smile as he weighed his options. It should have been a no-brainer. He’d left the opera early and led the stranger here for that exact reason, hadn’t he? But with the dull thrum of the wine through his veins and with Kuja’s quick transformation from disdain to charm, he felt like he had a moment of clarity. He was being used. Whatever their similarities were and whatever revenge they’d both sought, Kuja clearly had no intention of actually opening up to him. The man wanted an enjoyable night, and then he’d be gone in the morning. He knew Kuja’s name and poetic tendencies, but at the end of the day, he was just another stranger putting on an act that he gave a shit.
Genesis was almost tempted to turn away just for the pride of the matter. After Shinra, he didn’t much care for having his strings pulled even in the most innocent of circumstances. But if he did leave, then what then? What did he really have waiting for him back at his own rented room? He knew no one in the city. He had very few possessions in Zephon at all. No clear plan of direction now that he wasn’t dying and there was no trace of Shinra around to oppose. All he had at the inn were half-filled wine bottles, scattered pieces of materia, and the lingering scent of Bartz’s shampoo on his pillow.
The waitress came over to lay down their checks, and after she’d moved on to another table, Genesis took the opportunity to lean forward and place his hand over Kuja’s wrist. “My friend, your desire is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess,” he said with his own best charming smile. Two could play at that game, after all. “I’m ready to leave. Lead the way, won’t you?”
Some part of Kuja knew that. It chimed in the back of his head -- dull and sluggish and ineffectual. He knew in some way that he’d already lost what he’d come for, but those thoughts were stilled at Genesis’ touch. Kuja glanced at where Genesis’ skin met his, his head spinning with poetry, and he felt a pull of longing somehow more desperate than before. This was no longer about simple hedonism, but something more. Something almost painful. Kuja magicked his money pouch from its pocket, counted out the gil, and left it on the table.
”If that’s the case, then allow me.” He flashed Genesis a smile and slid once again from the booth. The vinyl stuck to his thighs where his skirt didn’t follow, and he grimaced his displeasure. How long had they been talking? He’d lost track of the time.
The wind hit him like a splash of arctic water. For a moment, he just stood there, stunned, as he blinked into falling snow. Then he shook his head, thrust his hair back, and started down the sidewalk. He wrapped his arms around himself and stifled a shudder.
The wind might have been sharp, but it cleared his head at least. He took several deep breaths in succession and then looked up to the sky. The silver moon hung high overhead. The sky nearly swallowed it -- a single ephemeral light alone in a sea of nothing. Kuja walked without looking away.
”There were two moons where I left -- one red and one blue. Two souls locked in clashing duality.” His boots clicked on hard pavement only slightly dampened by the snow. His breath rose in slow vapors. ”I hated them. Or one of them at least. It felt overbearing. And that blue light…” Kuja grimaced. ”But the sky feels cold without it. A single moon drained of color. I can’t get used to it.”
A chill ran up his spine. The wine had weakened his resistances or maybe he just allowed himself to feel the cold now. His body wouldn’t be damaged, but it wasn’t comfortable either. He drew his arms tighter around himself before glancing at Genesis.
The man was a burst of color beside him. Crimson, auburn, striking blue. Kuja wondered suddenly how warm it would feel to draw up beside him. It wouldn’t last forever -- Kuja wasn’t some lovestruck idiot -- but it felt right for now. His body longed for something more than pure function.
”I can’t remember the last time I connected so well with anyone.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. That damned wine. He grimaced and touched at his forehead. ”I mean I’ve rather enjoyed this. I think I needed a night away.”
The snow blew between them, cold and quiet. He shivered. ”What did you say about the wind across the water?”
Genesis blinked in slow surprise when Kuja pulled out a pouch and paid for their drinks. He hadn’t been expecting him to take the lead, so he shot Kuja a low, grateful smile as he scooted out of the booth. He was loathe to admit that he was broke from day to day, but he didn’t exactly have a steady stream of income in Zephon yet.
Well, on second thought, he supposed his income was as steady as the number of soldiers in Sonora. Though that certainly wasn’t a sustainable way to live.
“Hero of the dawn, healer of worlds,” he thanked him as they walked out the door into the cold night. A breeze blew flurries of snow around them, and Genesis tugged his coat a bit tighter around him before glancing over at Kuja. He was surprised to see that Kuja had wrapped his arms around his middle as if the cold was affecting him now. The man shivered and Genesis frowned slightly as they made their way down the street.
“Is your magic not working?” He asked, but he wasn’t entirely sure if his question was lost on Kuja or not in his musings about the moon.
Two moons. Genesis looked up and shielded his face from the snow as he considered the pale moon against the black sky. Kuja’s words spun a beautiful picture, and he could almost see how it would look with the red and blue lights spilling across the ground. Or would their lights combine? Were the nights in that world as purple as the man’s clothing in front of him? That would truly be a sight to behold.
“I’ve always been partial to red myself,” he said with a smile as he turned to face Kuja where he’d stopped. “Pity your blue moon dominated the landscape.”
“I can’t remember the last time I connected so well with anyone.”
Genesis felt his smile slip from his face as he stared at the man across from him. Snowflakes had landed in Kuja’s hair, and they illuminated the silver strands like a crown. Under the eye shadow and winged eyeliner, the man’s blue eyes looked clearer to him than they had all evening.
“Neither do I,” he murmured, and then instantly regretted the words. Was that true? His thoughts flickered almost desperately to Angeal and Sephiroth, but they’d been near to enemies by the end, hadn’t they? Sephiroth had told him to rot, and Angeal had chosen death over becoming a monster like him. That was answer enough, wasn’t it?
The man across from him was like a reflection. Poetry and hedonism wielded like a weapon and worn as a mask. Genesis wanted to reach out to see if he was real. Kuja’s question about Loveless was all that woke him up, and he shook his head, pulling the red leather coat off over his shoulders when he saw that Kuja was still shivering.
“The wind sails over the water’s surface, quietly but surely,” he murmured, stepping towards him to drape the coat around his shoulders. He was dimly aware that the cold should have been cutting on his bare arms, but he barely felt it between the remaining glow of the wine and the heat of the man’s presence.
Kuja was an inch or two taller than him, which he suspected had more to do with the man’s high-heeled boots than anything, but it left him around eye-level with his curved, painted lips. Hoping to banish his earlier somber thoughts and to clear the vulnerability he had briefly seen in Kuja's eyes, Genesis grasped the empty sleeves of his coat and used them to tug Kuja down to his level.
“What drew you to that line right now?” he murmured close to the man’s lips. “Something you find inevitable?”
Something draped across his shoulders. Kuja looked up to find vivid blue eyes burning into his own. Genesis. He looked oddly bare in his plain black uniform without his usual flair or color. Only his crimson gloves remained.
Those gloves reached forward and grabbed at the sleeves dangling from Kuja’s shoulders. Kuja blinked and took a quick step forward to keep his balance. Genesis was close now. Too close. Kuja simmered in the warmth of his coat, in the heat against his turtleneck, in the wine rising to his cheeks. Genesis’ lips were hardly a hair away from his. His breath came hot and bitter.
“What drew you to that line right now? Something you find inevitable?”
Kuja’s head spun. Why was he suddenly so vulnerable? So weak-willed? He was always the one pulling the strings, yet here he was being strung along like some silly tool intoxicated by a pretty-face. Kuja felt his hand draw up to touch Genesis’ chest. Felt the ribbed cotton rough beneath his fingers. Felt Genesis’ heartbeat and the warm must of his breath. Hadn’t he come here for this? For this very moment, clouded in the pleasures of his own body?
This wasn’t right. The thought floated forward, and Kuja became suddenly aware of how tightly he’d been drawn in. He drew himself up despite Genesis’ grip, bringing his other hand up to the man’s cheek. His fingers sparked with magic.
”Nothing is inevitable." His lips twitching into a smirk. "So long as one has the will to seize control of his fate.” He traced a thoughtful line down Genesis’ cheek. His magic lit the path in electric white, painless but pulsing with power.
”The only question is are you the water or the wind?” His grip tightened on the front of Genesis’ sweater, and he pulled the man towards him, touching Genesis’ lips to his. They were chilled in the wind and stained red from the sweet laquer of wine. Kuja smirked against them, eyes bright with something like defiance.
Kuja had laid a hand on his chest, directly over his heart. Genesis smiled faintly at the gentle pressure over his sweater, and he had started to dip in for a kiss when Kuja suddenly pulled back and straightened up to his full height again. Frowning, Genesis loosened his grip on the red leather sleeves of his coat as he looked up into the man’s eyes that had sharpened considerably. Had he been too bold? He hadn’t thought that Kuja would mind. Surely he hadn’t read the mood wrong.
Genesis was slightly mollified when Kuja laid a hand on his cheek, and he tilted his head to lean into the touch until he felt the sharp static of magic touch his skin. Tensing, he watched Kuja carefully as the man’s lips twitched into a smirk and he slowly dragged his fingers down the side of his face. The magic crackled and hummed close to his ear, and his skin prickled with goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold. Somehow he’d forgotten his earlier thoughts that the man might be dangerous. Kuja seemed more than happy to remind him though.
“The only question is are you the water or the wind?”
Genesis’ mouth was moving before his brain had quite caught up. And even then, he refused to shut up when Loveless was involved anyway. “Now that’s a fascinating question with a lot of implica-”
Kuja’s fingers had curled into the front of his sweater, and Genesis found himself tugged forward and forced onto his toes to match the man’s height. He grasped the man’s shoulder pauldrons to keep his balance, and he heard the soft thump of his leather coat landing in the snow as Kuja brought him in and lightly pressed their lips together.
Maybe it should have been threatening between the warm press of Kuja’s magic against his cheek and the slightly awkward angle he was bent into, but there was something attractive about the sudden role reversal, so he melted into the kiss anyway until he felt Kuja’s lips quirk into a slight smirk.
“I know which I choose.”
Oh. Rude. Pulling back with a slight huff, Genesis considered Kuja with pursed lips as his thoughts flashed between irritation and amusement. Finally, they landed somewhere in the middle and he laughed under his breath a little. Well, this certainly wasn’t where he thought the night would go when he had approached the man at the opera house. He just had to attract a beautiful man with a ball of complexes and a dangerous edge.
“Oh, I’ve never minded playing the role of the water.” He moved one gloved hand from Kuja’s shoulder armor to the side of the man’s neck as he gently smoothed back some of his silver hair. “But I think you’ll find that I’m a stormier sea than most.” Genesis let his smile quirk upward into something a bit more challenging. “Strong waves aren’t always easily tamed.”
