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year 5, quarter 3
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It seemed the brash pirate was ready to listen to reason finally... Sort of. Instead of a yes or a no though, Caius was graced by a tirade of epic proportions. Yeesh, if he wanted to hear this, he'd talk to Celes about dating and see what happens. But as far as Faris' shoulder went, while it was true that Caius did not have a grasp on how deep the injuries ran, he could at least tell it was a problem. Armor or not. Caius had spent a great deal of time working with very prideful men and women who wore jackets that covered most of their bodies. One couldn't judge for wounds based off what they could see physically, they had to monitor body language and watch their stances. Not many in the Kingsglaive were willing to admit it when they were hurt until they had no choice. Caius had been one of them. His stubbornness nearly getting him killed had fixed that. But for Faris, Caius could tell from the way he'd been standing that he was favoring the shoulder and trying not to show it, like an animal trying to hide it's wounds to keep a predator away. It had shown while he was fighting too. Caius knew by his strikes that he had considerable skill, but his balance seemed to be off, in a way that was far too disproportionate to what he'd seen from him thus far. In a way, it was a show of respect for Caius to make his guess on how bad the injury was getting based off that.
But it was true he didn't know the depths of it. Only that it was a problem and one that was seemingly getting worse. It didn't take long once the fighting stopped for him to notice his guess was right, as they began to clearly visibly favor the shoulder. Caius muttered a curse under his breath for letting the fight go on this long and letting it get to this point, silently blaming himself for that. Even if he knew there was most likely nothing he could have done besides go on the offensive and potentially risk even worse injury.
But he was listening. The tirade continued and Caius kept calm, letting his sword disappear as he would listen patiently. He didn't speak, he didn't interrupt, and he didn't show any emotion. He just let them go on, and let them get it out, all while scanning it for what information he could get.
Though he did note that he called himself a man. It seemed his guess about him being similar to the women of the Lestallum was off. Not that it mattered, he wasn't the kind to judge.
Once he finished, Caius waited a few moments to ensure he was done. After that, he took a deep breath, before holding up a hand and speaking calmly, yet firmly.
"Parlay."
He didn't know if this would work, but it'd worked with the Tonberrys... It was worth a shot. They would be bound by pirate code and honor not to harm one another until the conclusion of the parlay.
"You're Captain Scherwiz, and I'm the captain of my own ship, figuratively... So close enough, I guess. But I call a parlay."
He let that sink in a moment, hoping his book knowledge was accurate.
"Here are the terms I would like to put on the table, if they are amenable to you. You said that you would have been able to heal it thrice over had I not intervened. So go ahead" Caius would suggest, motioning to him with his hand. "Odds are that would mean you're more skilled with healing magic than I am regardless, and thus it would be more practical for you to do so anyway. If you can do so, then I will stand down and leave. Simple as that.
Now, if you are unable to do so, and are simply trying to act on some semblance of foolish pride... Then I request to ensure the job is done myself. I am not the most skilled at healing magicks, I will be completely honest with you, and it might take me a bit. If not for that, I would have probably done it already from this distance and our conversation would be over. If my partner were here, she could have done it far more quickly, as she is above and beyond better with magic than I. But what I do have can get the job done if it becomes necessary.
I only desire to do what I feel is necessary, and if you feel you are capable of healing that in your condition, as bad as it has clearly gotten by the way you're holding that shoulder, then I will be content with that and will fulfill my end of our terms.
So, that is what I would like to propose. I don't care how it gets done, when I know you aren't going to bleed out, I will walk. Simple as that."
Final Fantasy V
23
YEARS
Trans Male
Single
Pansexual
245 POSTS
Fin
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
You've got a lot of brass, or mayhap you're just lacking in brains!
”Parlay.”
”Eh?” Faris scathing eye turned incredulous. Whatever he’d expected out of the lout, it hadn’t been that.
”You're Captain Scherwiz, and I'm the captain of my own ship, figuratively... So close enough, I guess. But I call a parlay."
Faris stared at him. What in all blazes was he talking about? Figurative ships? Comprehension came slowly when his head was already spinning with blood loss. ”Parlay?” he echoed. ”I’ll not be taking you to the captain. I am the captain, you dunce! You’ve not a clue about piracy, have you?”
But even with the man’s stupidity, his ploy had worked. While Faris had struggled to wrap his mind around it, the lout’d gotten his chance to set his terms. Terms that made Faris’ sneer widen. He hadn’t listened to a word he’d said, had he? Or hadn’t respected it at least. Even now, the man had nothing but doubts, demands, and pity.
”I’ve nothing to prove to you, and I’ll not be lowering my guard! I’m not a thick-headed child! Making me prove my word…” He scowled. The Warrior of Light would’ve done the same thing, offering aid to an enemy, but the knight had something crucial this lout didn’t. ”You’re not righteous if you go about forcing yourself when it’s not asked! You’re nothing but an ass!”
Faris winced. The pain was overwhelming, but the vertigo was even worse. He felt it buzz between his ears, felt his fingers tremble with it. The fight really had worsened the tides, but he regretted nothing. He’d rather have jumped into the churning sea than let that man lay a finger on him when Faris had said otherwise.
Which left him no other choice. If he couldn’t jump and he couldn’t fight, he’d have to approach his escape from a different angle. He set his eyes on the lout in a defiant blaze as he called forth the power of his crystal. In a second, its light enveloped him, melting away at steely armor and replacing it with a crimson leotard, simple helm, and a wide scarf that shrouded him from his waist to just below his eyes. The ninja class clung to him in ways that he’d always hated, riding up his thigh in a way it never had for Bartz, but at least the scarf hid the worst of his figure.
With the transformation done, Faris snatched a sphere from his belt and threw it hard between them. It burst into a cloud of gray smoke, and Faris took his last second of full vision to fling a dagger at the man’s shoulder before turning tail and dashing down the opposite path. The rocky outcropping that splayed before him in cliffs, ridges, and thoroughly uneven terrain. Faris took a turn from his projected path as soon as he was able, climbing down a short ledge before taking off in a side direction and adding in several more curves and descending climbs to follow. Only when he was absolutely certain that the lout wouldn’t follow did he finally find an alcove shadowed by a rocky overhang and stumble into the cliff's edge.
His escape had done him no favors. He felt the blood drain from his face, felt his knees weaken as the hum in his ears deafened him. He slid down the wall before his vision could turn black, hissing the whole way.
This was that lout’s fault. If he’d let him go about his business, Faris would have gathered his gold without opening the wound further. If he’d left him well enough alone, Faris could have healed the damned thing at once and let that be the end of it. Instead, the condescending lout had demanded a part in the story he hadn’t deserved. Faris grit his teeth and touched at the blood that already stickied his scarf.
”Some pirate you are.” Faris’ laugh was equal parts unsteady and humorless. He’d left the ordeal penniless, humiliated, and so wounded he’d taken to hiding like a rabbit in its hole, staunching the flow of blood between his fingers. Was this a punishment for straying from his newfound morality? He wondered what the Warrior of Light would say to him now. Harsh words, he imagined, laced with disappointment and a frown.
When all was said and done, maybe this was what he deserved.
The crystal struggled at his call -- nearly too weakened to manifest properly. He was only vaguely aware of his leotard loosening, of a heavy white robe lengthening and draping over him. Once the crystal’s light faded, Faris shoved his hands together on instinct and muttered the crystal-granted incantations of a spell. The curative magic washed over him like soothing water, and he felt his pain ebb away before flaring again at his shoulder. He’d never taken to magic quite like Lenna had. Or Krile. Or Bartz for that matter, and his white magic always came sharp and clumsy. He felt his skin fuse together, felt each muscle tendon weld with stitches like fire. Faris let out a muffled cry and let himself fall to the side, holding himself up with a single hand.
His breath came ragged. His forehead dripped with sweat. He’d stabilized himself, he knew, and the wound had closed even if it’d likely scar until Krile could fix it proper. Still, he felt his vision fade. The whole ordeal had taken its toll, and his body demanded payment.
With a curse, Faris lowered himself onto the ground, hardly conscious of the jutting, uneven stone. He laid his head onto his heavy sleeve and let his raised hood cushion the space between. He needed rest, circumstances be damned, and he doubted he’d last much longer anyway.
In the fleeting moments between waking and sleep, it was Krile’s face that swam before his eyes. With her sense for danger, she’d worry for him, and maybe she was right to. The images ran together -- Krile’s worry, Bartz’ surprise, the Warrior’s disappointment -- until he could hardly tell one from the other.
He couldn't give help to someone that didn't want it. Especially as vehemently as they were. And his expression looked all the more exasperated when they continued to lambast him as he finally saw this wasn't going to work. He winced when he did. He wanted to help, more than ever the more that it was becoming clear that the "Captain" was wounded terribly. The cold exterior he tried to put up wasn't something he was able to hold up anymore, as genuine worry spread across his face as it dawned on him that he could do nothing. Caius felt frustrated, irritated, more at himself than at the other man. He felt helpless, a feeling he was very much not happy to relive. He didn't respond at length this time, only just the one thing that was most prominent.
"I don't care about proving or any of that crap. I just want to help or at least ensure you can-"
When he was temporarily blinded, he didn't move except to defend himself from potential attacks. Caius heard the whistle of the dagger and parried it, and as he predicted the man was gone when the smoke cleared. He let out a sigh, then. He didn't bother to try and hunt him down. He'd already tried. He'd done everything he could and there was no more that he could do. Caius was upset at his failure, but at the same time, the other one had shown they were capable of changing their moveset in variety, an interesting power. It was quite likely they had something for healing, which if they still had the strength to swap like that...
Perhaps his worries were unfounded after all.
Sitting down, he would close his eyes and let the sea air and wind settle him down. It was a shame, honestly. He had hoped to ask the fellow for a proper spar down the road when he was rested and they could fight on even terms. He was skilled, that was clear, and Caius delighted in a good battle. But he couldn't even get to that point, much less even ensure they were capable of healing themselves.
No use crying over spilled milk, he supposed.
His hand met steel as he would then look toward the dagger he'd parried earlier. Deciding to pocket it, he figured he could return it down the road if the opportunity came. Or throw it at him if he attacked him. Caius would decide later.
