Post by Kuja on Dec 17, 2015 0:00:43 GMT -6
The knight took a moment to himself. The man's expression had changed, and now Kuja saw something else behind it. There was darkness, introspection, and a kind of hollow despair the Kuja knew only too well. Then the man turned his gaze away and back to the flickering of flames.
“I do realize that this is insanity,” he said with an absent touch of his sword, "However, as to why you should believe me? The answer is before you.” The man looked at Kuja again, and Kuja had no choice but to gaze back into those terrible blue eyes. They were bright as ice in the reflections of the firelight. On another night, they might have reminded Kuja of his own blue eyes as clear as the light of Gaia. Only this man's held no deceit.
“Why else would I, knowing full well what destructive magic you are capable of, knowing who you are, knowing what you could do to me, what other reason could there be that I would remain here?”
And in that moment, something broke. There were too many inconsistencies for Kuja's reality to remain true. It wasn't that this man was speaking to him or even that his demeanor seemed familiar. No, it was the way those lines had been stated. "Knowing who you are. Knowing what you could do to me. Knowing full well what destructive magic you are capable of." No one should have known that here. No one, not unless they were familiar with Gaia, and even so -- Kuja was known as a weapons dealer. They thought him a mysterious tactician and inventor from an unknown land. They had no idea the training Kuja had been through, the magic he knew, the damage he could cause by his own hand alone. No one knew that -- not even Zidane.
Only Garland knew, in his palace of the damned on a planet of timeless ruin. Only Garland knew of suicidal missions, the near-death experiences, and the spells Kuja had been forced to cast again and again and again until his mana had drained and he was left in an exhausted heap in that village of silent undeath.
Yet this knight knew. From the man's wary expression to the touch of his sword, and now this, Kuja was certain he knew. He knew what power Kuja could flick casually from his fingertips. He knew what happened to those who crossed him (if not immediately, then always eventually), and the man knew that he was not safe from it.
This knight knew everything.
“I have fought you before. I have spoken to you before, and you do not remember. You have been forced to forget that abominable, bloody cycle of war that you were once trapped in.”
Yes, this man must have fought him before. They had doubtlessly spoken before, and was it not true that Kuja had forgotten? Had it not nagged at him like a thorned burr since his arrival on this forsaken planet? Back in the temple with that moose-man, hadn't Kuja felt the stirrings of some terrible memory? Had he not envisioned unnatural places of buzzing orange lights and a swathe of red feathers? Had he not felt that panic? That dread?
Had he not remembered something like death? The thought chilled him, even now. Was it possible, then, that the knight had told him the truth? It was ridiculous. Laughable, even. And yet...
The knights words carried him forward. The drive that had left Kuja seemed to have entered this man now. Kuja knew those emotions well -- the passion, the rage, the fury for revenge. And above it all, an underlying pain that could not be expressed. “Though you were my enemy, and you may yet still be, I refuse to keep the truth from you, as it was once kept from me. I will not leave you in the dark about your own past.”
It was funny. Any other time, Kuja might have mocked the man. He might have sneered at the sheer naivete of it all and wondered what place sentimentality had over any but the weak. But this was not that time. This time, Kuja could only stand in stunned silence at his words. "Though you were my enemy. Though you may yet still be. I will not leave you in the dark." It felt familiar somehow, and though he couldn't place it, it stirred something inside of him that he had never felt before. Something anxious, confusing, and more than a little painful.
Was this what gratitude felt like? Kuja couldn't be sure.
The knight was standing now. He paced in quickened motions. Anger coursed through his every movement from his glancing eyes to his agitated gestures. His face remained stoic, yet it only hardened the intensity of it all. This was a man with questions he could not answer.
Kuja watched him silently, and after a moment, the knight ceased his pacing, sighed, and looked to him again. There was something else in his expression now -- the hints of a past which would not leave him. “If that is not enough for you, then wait. You will see another being, and your mind will whisper that you know of them. Your gut will recall fearing them, adoring them, hating them. You will dream of it. It will lurk in the back of your mind, until you embrace it."
The knight spoke in impassioned whispers. This was a haunted man, a damaged man. But the moment passed, and the knight took a breath to steady himself. Kuja knew of those shadows well. In time, they would consume him.
And he would never be the same.
"I believe you." The words felt wrong to Kuja, somehow. They were words that should not be from a sentiment that he didn't understand. Yet they were true, and he spoke them. "I don't know what this is, and your story is ridiculous, but at least for now -- I believe you."
Kuja took a step back towards the cliff. He gazed upon the ground below, at the ruins of a temple and the great, over-arching spirals that nearly pricked the clouds. He touched his forehead with the back of his hand and closed his eyes against it.
"I have felt the stirrings of memories that I do not understand. I seem to recall something terrible -- a mistake I made, or something like it. I took myself too far, and then...I don't know. Something happened after that. I...I think I wanted it to end."
Had Kuja ever spoken this honestly with anyone? 'Yes,' his heart recalled, but he couldn't remember it. Maybe that time had changed him. This felt far more natural than it should have been.
Kuja didn't raise his head from his hand. He didn't turn or even open his eyes. There was one more nagging question that he couldn't rid himself of, and he longed for an answer. "Why would you speak to an enemy this way?" The words came like echoes of some distant truth. Too far away to carry meaning. "If you know what I am. If you know what I've done and can do. I don't understand it..."
His voice reverberated on empty cliff-sides. This felt familiar, so familiar. But the mountain carried no reply.
“I do realize that this is insanity,” he said with an absent touch of his sword, "However, as to why you should believe me? The answer is before you.” The man looked at Kuja again, and Kuja had no choice but to gaze back into those terrible blue eyes. They were bright as ice in the reflections of the firelight. On another night, they might have reminded Kuja of his own blue eyes as clear as the light of Gaia. Only this man's held no deceit.
“Why else would I, knowing full well what destructive magic you are capable of, knowing who you are, knowing what you could do to me, what other reason could there be that I would remain here?”
And in that moment, something broke. There were too many inconsistencies for Kuja's reality to remain true. It wasn't that this man was speaking to him or even that his demeanor seemed familiar. No, it was the way those lines had been stated. "Knowing who you are. Knowing what you could do to me. Knowing full well what destructive magic you are capable of." No one should have known that here. No one, not unless they were familiar with Gaia, and even so -- Kuja was known as a weapons dealer. They thought him a mysterious tactician and inventor from an unknown land. They had no idea the training Kuja had been through, the magic he knew, the damage he could cause by his own hand alone. No one knew that -- not even Zidane.
Only Garland knew, in his palace of the damned on a planet of timeless ruin. Only Garland knew of suicidal missions, the near-death experiences, and the spells Kuja had been forced to cast again and again and again until his mana had drained and he was left in an exhausted heap in that village of silent undeath.
Yet this knight knew. From the man's wary expression to the touch of his sword, and now this, Kuja was certain he knew. He knew what power Kuja could flick casually from his fingertips. He knew what happened to those who crossed him (if not immediately, then always eventually), and the man knew that he was not safe from it.
This knight knew everything.
“I have fought you before. I have spoken to you before, and you do not remember. You have been forced to forget that abominable, bloody cycle of war that you were once trapped in.”
Yes, this man must have fought him before. They had doubtlessly spoken before, and was it not true that Kuja had forgotten? Had it not nagged at him like a thorned burr since his arrival on this forsaken planet? Back in the temple with that moose-man, hadn't Kuja felt the stirrings of some terrible memory? Had he not envisioned unnatural places of buzzing orange lights and a swathe of red feathers? Had he not felt that panic? That dread?
Had he not remembered something like death? The thought chilled him, even now. Was it possible, then, that the knight had told him the truth? It was ridiculous. Laughable, even. And yet...
The knights words carried him forward. The drive that had left Kuja seemed to have entered this man now. Kuja knew those emotions well -- the passion, the rage, the fury for revenge. And above it all, an underlying pain that could not be expressed. “Though you were my enemy, and you may yet still be, I refuse to keep the truth from you, as it was once kept from me. I will not leave you in the dark about your own past.”
It was funny. Any other time, Kuja might have mocked the man. He might have sneered at the sheer naivete of it all and wondered what place sentimentality had over any but the weak. But this was not that time. This time, Kuja could only stand in stunned silence at his words. "Though you were my enemy. Though you may yet still be. I will not leave you in the dark." It felt familiar somehow, and though he couldn't place it, it stirred something inside of him that he had never felt before. Something anxious, confusing, and more than a little painful.
Was this what gratitude felt like? Kuja couldn't be sure.
The knight was standing now. He paced in quickened motions. Anger coursed through his every movement from his glancing eyes to his agitated gestures. His face remained stoic, yet it only hardened the intensity of it all. This was a man with questions he could not answer.
Kuja watched him silently, and after a moment, the knight ceased his pacing, sighed, and looked to him again. There was something else in his expression now -- the hints of a past which would not leave him. “If that is not enough for you, then wait. You will see another being, and your mind will whisper that you know of them. Your gut will recall fearing them, adoring them, hating them. You will dream of it. It will lurk in the back of your mind, until you embrace it."
The knight spoke in impassioned whispers. This was a haunted man, a damaged man. But the moment passed, and the knight took a breath to steady himself. Kuja knew of those shadows well. In time, they would consume him.
And he would never be the same.
"I believe you." The words felt wrong to Kuja, somehow. They were words that should not be from a sentiment that he didn't understand. Yet they were true, and he spoke them. "I don't know what this is, and your story is ridiculous, but at least for now -- I believe you."
Kuja took a step back towards the cliff. He gazed upon the ground below, at the ruins of a temple and the great, over-arching spirals that nearly pricked the clouds. He touched his forehead with the back of his hand and closed his eyes against it.
"I have felt the stirrings of memories that I do not understand. I seem to recall something terrible -- a mistake I made, or something like it. I took myself too far, and then...I don't know. Something happened after that. I...I think I wanted it to end."
Had Kuja ever spoken this honestly with anyone? 'Yes,' his heart recalled, but he couldn't remember it. Maybe that time had changed him. This felt far more natural than it should have been.
Kuja didn't raise his head from his hand. He didn't turn or even open his eyes. There was one more nagging question that he couldn't rid himself of, and he longed for an answer. "Why would you speak to an enemy this way?" The words came like echoes of some distant truth. Too far away to carry meaning. "If you know what I am. If you know what I've done and can do. I don't understand it..."
His voice reverberated on empty cliff-sides. This felt familiar, so familiar. But the mountain carried no reply.
