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
Welcome one and all to our beautiful new skin! This marks the visual era of Adventu 4.0, our 4th and by far best design we've had. 3.0 suited our needs for a very long time, but as things are evolving around the site (and all for the better thanks to all of you), it was time for a new, sleek change. The Resource Site celebrity Pharaoh Leep was the amazing mastermind behind this with minor collaborations from your resident moogle. It's one-of-a-kind and suited specifically for Adventu. Click the image for a super easy new skin guide for a visual tour!
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The light of the full moon filtered through the trees. It covered the area in a blue-silver light. The black trees seemed crooked and likely to fall across the path at any time. All was still and quiet, except for gentle, cool breezes and the soft, deep hoot of an owl in the distance. The shimmer of silver-threaded webs drew beautiful patterns across dark holes along the furrowed path. The empty path was traced by but a single girl, lost and unsure of the direction. But if she had no destination, did the path she took really matter?
The path lead to a small brook, a small vein of the dark forest. She combed her fingers through still slightly damp hair. Her reflection bubbling in the flowing water as she replaced her pink hair accessories. She was unused to traveling like this. Being in the wilderness for this amount of time made her long for what comfort there was in Bran Bal or even the Black Mage Village. It was not cold or damp there, nor had she felt so sticky. The dip in the cool brook was certainly refreshing, if that is the proper word to use. It helped relieve some of the discomforts.
But what was the point of such temporary relief, when she had nowhere to find lasting comfort? What would such a place be called? Even the place she called home held no such comfort, nor did it exist anymore. The memories conjured up pale, emotionless faces.
The breeze picked up and goosebumps pricked as her damp skin dried off. Her gaze studied her reflection. Just a small, pale girl.
The breeze brought with it small orbs of light. The orbs floated down the river and shed its light across the crystalline surface. Ignis Fatuus. Or perhaps they were a little more than a scientific phenomenon. As the lights danced past her, she reached out. She cradled one gently in her hands, even though the pale flame never touched her skin. The light of it made her eyes show their teal color in the night.
This soul had so much pain in it. It had been through so much and been severed from its corporal vessel too soon. She closed her eyes, its light shining across her face. More painful than the blue light of Bran Bal, but she did not let it go. She psychically reached out deeply to touch its essence. It was but a caress on the surface of the spirit. They too had been discarded from their purpose and life once. They wanted badly to live again. But the rage and sadness were too much to handle.
If someone properly tended to the souls, could they be healed? Terra no longer existed…but was it possible to use other souls to awaken the Genomes? Or would the two reject each other?
Were the others even here?
The spirit floated away from her. She opened her eyes to find she was no longer alone.
The Ignis Fatuus disappeared from the flowing water. Before her stood the people of Bran Bal. She recognized the purple, orange, and blues of her peers, each color marked with soft white symbols on their outfits. They seemed to linger here awkwardly. Some studied the brook, curious at its flowing waters. Their legs bent beneath them and tails curled. Others studied the trees and the stones. Some found insects to observe. Some stood still, while others tilted their head curiously to the side. None of them expressed any sign of confusion or distraught at being here.
Mikoto watched them curiously. She reached out her own will to touch theirs. There was just emptiness without presence. The ghost lights were playing tricks with her. Was it punishment for disturbing them? Or were they simply trying to keep her company…?
But as she reached out her will, she felt him. At first, it was a thrumming that touched her core. Then it was like the beat of a gentle drum echoing inside her head. It pulled her essence in one direction. She turned to look, but no one was seemingly there amongst the thick dark trees. She was tempted to walk toward the source its pull was so great. Instead, she reached out once more with telepathy this time. “I feel you.” Blunt and to the point. She felt her heart race to find another Genome in such an unlikely place. She pressed a hand to her chest, as if it would still it. “Will you meet with me?” A gentle request. If it was no trick of the woods, then he should be able to find her without much trouble.
Final Fantasy IX
27
YEARS
Agendered
Open
Pansexual
333 POSTS
Fin
Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past.
The Headstone Forest. It was a hideous sight even from above. The gnarled treetops. The shadows of corruption. Kuja could feel its influence despite the distance, and it chilled him. The souls desired a vessel. He smirked bitterly to himself, thrusting a handful of hair behind his pauldron. He had always hated the Mist, as much as he'd needed it. While this wasn’t exactly the same, it had the same components and the same offensive essence. He hated it as much as he ever had, and even from the sky, it drew his disdain.
”It's an eyesore,” he said. ”A pity it's worth useful.” His dragon made no response, but he’d hardly expected her to. She soared above the forest’s twisted paths with hardly a care, her shadow diving over the treetops like a hawk’s. Kuja twisted his fingers through her feathers, knees neatly folded to his side. His dragon had spent too long alone in the desert, waiting for his return. He’d had unspeakable business that had required a subtle hand.
How he longed for power.
From the beginning, the Headstone Forest had drawn his eye. He’d tinkered with its Mist and its uses. Could he replicate the Black Mages? The answer, it seemed, was a glaring ’maybe.’ Maybe he could. Maybe he couldn’t. He’d had worthwhile results in his prototypes, but that’s all they really were. Models. Prototypes. Proofs of concept. In truth, he’d tired of them. Why repeat the same methods twice? This planet required a far different strategy than the one he’d left behind. It had its own weaknesses, cultures, and complexities. He had taken the time to learn them, and he would take as much time as he had left to him.
A prospect that was growing increasingly urgent.
He had been born to die. Even now, the thought brought a scowl to his lips. It was the cruelest trick of all, giving him life, giving him a soul, only to kill him in the end. At least the awakening of the Black Mages had been a defect of which he’d had no real intention. But what Garland had done...What it had done to him...
There was nothing that Kuja wouldn’t do to defy his fate. And so that brought him to this accursed forest.
There was magic here. Something dark, mysterious, and immortal. He felt it like a beating heart, and at its center was a blackened obelisk protected by unspeakable magic. If he could lift the spell...If he could claim its power as his own…
Kuja was so nearly lost to his thoughts and schemes that he didn’t notice the shift at first -- a kind of stirring of the wind. Below him was the Mist like a static hum of broken souls. And there, glinting among them was…
Kuja sat up, eyes sharp with surprise. Was that…a genome?
But he knew that sense as well as he knew his own name. A Terran soul. It wasn’t Garland’s and it wasn’t Zidane’s. This one reached for him. This one was aware. But there’d never been another in Garland’s menagerie...had there?
And yet like a refutation, it spoke. ’I feel you.’ The voice drifted like a soft rustle of sand. ’Will you meet with me?’
His eyebrows furrowed. After a moment’s hesitation, he answered. ’Yes.’
What was happening? Who was this girl (for he felt it was a girl)? What did she want with him and why…?
Why did she exist at all?
Kuja touched at his dragon’s neck. ”Circle back,” he said, and the dragon huffed its understanding, tilting its wings as Kuja mused on the forest below them. Dropping in from above would be an uncomfortable maneuver at best and a dangerous one at worst, but he didn’t see much of a choice. He trusted his magic, and he wasn’t exactly drowning in options. He would rather claw out his own eyes than hike through miles of uninhabitable wilderness again.
Once he’d pinpointed her position, he brought his dragon into a spiraling descent. The trees drew closer in terrible, twisted detail. As his dragon’s wings swept the withered canopy, Kuja set his jaw, prepared a float spell, and slipped off her back.
His magic caught, slowing his descent as he raised a hand, swiping at the branches with flashes of brilliant blue-violet. The trees creaked around him, twigs cracking, leaves scattering as he burrowed his way to the forest floor. He dispelled his float in the last few feet and landed lightly on the ground, hair and skirt splaying gracefully behind him. As gravity settled in, Kuja took a moment to scowl.
His hair was scattered with twigs and debris. This had better be worth it.
She wasn’t hard to locate. As Kuja padded across the brambles and moss, clearing his path with slashes of telekinetic magic, he could only imagine where she had come from. Terra, obviously, but what as her purpose? If he was the disposable prototype and Zidane was the chosen weapon then why would Garland need a third? Or had there been a fourth? A fifth? His mind spun with possibilities that he’d never considered. With Zidane lost, had Garland simply mass produced their replacements? Nothing was ever without purpose with Garland. Every cog was flawlessly set, every piece in perfect order.
What, then, was her place?
He stepped from the foliage into a small, riverside clearing. Despite the horrors of the rest of the forest, this place felt strangely dull. The darkness had lifted, and with it the thinning Mist. Instead there was only the water, bubbling along the rocks and the grime. A trail of clovers led to its edge, and standing among them was a girl. A Terran. A Genome.
His eyes sharpened. There she was in Zidane’s echoed image. The angled face. The golden hair. The tail, hovering at a slight curl. She was dressed in standard Terran attire clad in black, white, and pink. She watched him with unreadable eyes set in Gaian blue. They matched his own.
”Who are you?” Kuja asked. He crossed his arms, waiting.
His tail gave a quiet, imperceivable swish. Who are you? There was nothing good that could come from its answer.
At first, she wondered if the forest was simply playing more tricks on her. The pause seeping in over mere seconds. The wind stirred, as if to bring his answer upon it. She waited patiently in her spot, not wanting to make his task overly difficult. If the cold bothered her, she didn’t show it. She could feel the drumming beat faster and faster inside her, until her senses fell into a simple humming vibration.
It was then he emerged.
And she was surprised by what she saw. Where she was expecting to look into a façade so similar to her own, he had an identity of his own. He was so dissimilar to the other Genomes, except for the cut of his clothing. He was tall and the moonlight filtered on him just enough to make his skin and hair glow in its light. The bramble itself could not even mar his appearance in her eyes. He was, ‘so beautiful’.
Her lips parted just slightly to gasp, as she turned her back on him and severed her connection properly. Unable to handle her own flustering. Zidane had a similar effect on her. Conjuring, up feelings that could not be outlet properly. Her tail had fluffed slightly. Toes pressed into the ground but her fists pulling her into the gravity by her side. She couldn’t tell if she was trying to leap out of her body or bury it in the ground.
But his question pulled at her and she peered over her shoulder at him. Her neutral expression returned at the sobering question. “Who am I?” She echoed his question. It was spoken with such sincere speculation. As if she was unsure how to answer it or considered it fully. She turned her eyes to the brook as if its quiet nature helped her think. “Nine months ago…” Or was it more now? Time flowed differently on Terra, Gaia, and now this planet. “I would have told you that I was a Genome created by Garland and designated the name Mikoto. My assigned functions were to watch over my peers at Bran Bal and welcome Zidane to his place of origin. I was to help him remember that which he became oblivious – his own primary purpose - then guide him to Garland.” She paused for a moment. “Garland knew there was a possibility Zidane would still deny his purpose. If this were to happen, I was to take his place. But then…” She trailed looking for the words.
She turned to face Kuja, her eyes held that nearly unblinking wideness. They had never met in person, but she knew him by his actions and the rumors. “It was you, wasn’t it? You who ended Garland’s existence and with him, Terra. Kuja?” There was no hostility or accusation. Just simple, emotionless facts. She seemed to be searching him for something. Maybe he could answer her questions? Why had she summoned him to her? There had been a reason, but it was lost when she first laid eyes on him. Even after all the destruction he caused, he was still so beautiful. “In doing so, all that I was created for was lost.”
She felt something swell in her chest. Her breath? She couldn’t tell. She pressed her hand to her chest. “But in losing it all…” She stopped searching once more for these expressions she was so unused to. But she remembered standing at the Iifa tree’s edge wanting to say them. “You gave the Genomes a chance to be something beyond their design. You were the only one willful enough to do so.” It was gratitude.
“Who am I?” She repeated and shook her head. “What is Garland's design and what is my own...I don’t know.” Her eyes trailed back to the illusions of the Terrans once more. “They aren’t here, are they?” An emphasis on another purpose lost to her.
She bowed her head in thought, her hair stirring in the wind. “I wanted to go to you at the Iifa tree, but I had not grown into my abilities just yet. I watched Zidane rush to you instead.” She still was unsure what she was capable of.
Final Fantasy IX
27
YEARS
Agendered
Open
Pansexual
333 POSTS
Fin
Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past.
Her eyes were pools of expressionless blue. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have called them hollow, but he knew all too well what hollow really looked like on that face. It left her at an eerie midpoint halfway between sentience and a living doll. For the longest time, she only stared at him and then he heard her echo once again. ’So beautiful.’
Kuja raised his eyebrows as she abruptly severed their connection and turned her back on him, fists curled. To anyone else, she would have seemed slightly flustered, but Kuja knew her thoughts as though she’d worn them on her sleeve -- or more accurately her tail. Her fur stood on end. Had Kuja been in a better disposition, he would have laughed. But he was not so instead he simply stood there, arms crossed and eyes impatient.
His tail bristled its irritation. There was a reason he took such care to hide it.
After a long moment, she looked back at him. ”Who am I?” It was like she was considering every word for the first time. How young was she? Only recently able to contemplate her existence, it seemed. What was Garland doing throwing around souls like it was nothing? Kuja had rather thought he’d spoiled him on the idea.
But then again, he supposed not.
It had only been nine months ago. Meant with the full purpose of guiding Zidane. Kuja felt his nails dig into his sleeve. Garland had created her as Zidane’s companion? Of course he had. Didn’t everything revolve around that idiot? Why not awaken him as a useless child? Why not create new life with the sole purpose of keeping him company? We wouldn’t want their precious Zidane getting lonely now, would we? He was perfect or so Kuja had been told. What was so special about Trance, anyway? Kuja had brought the entire planet to its knees without raising a finger.
And he’d been left entirely on his own. It wasn’t lost on him that his chosen companion was female. Even Garland had some sterile understanding of basic instinct, it seemed. For everyone except Kuja.
”Lovely.” Kuja’s tail thrashed. He was losing his patience. And she was still in awe.
”It was you, wasn’t it? You who ended Garland’s existence and with him, Terra. Kuja?”
Kuja paused. He’d rather thought that a genome would have hated him for such a thing. He still wasn’t entirely sure that she didn’t, but her blunt words were betrayed by her wide eyes, her open stance, the subtle twitch of her tail. She didn’t sound quite so disappointed when she said he’d taken everything from her. Usually obliterating one’s home came with some bitter feelings floating around.
Kuja knew from experience. Burmecia, Cleyra, Madain Sari. The survivors didn’t generally wish him well.
But still she went on. Gave the genomes a chance? The only one willful enough to do so? Had he been this chatty at her age? If he’d gotten in the habit of speaking so much, Garland would have forcefully silenced him. The injustice had no end.
”I assure you, that wasn’t my intention.” He could hardly remember the whole event if he was being honest, but he knew that much. He’d had nothing but satisfaction at watching it burn. The other genomes were merely a bonus. ”They’re hollow vessels. What do they need a chance for?”
A chance to be something beyond their design? Well he supposed that was correct. Now they’d never gain a soul. Tragic.
He glanced where her eyes had drifted. Vague orbs of light played about the river’s bank. They were nothing more than lost souls corrupted by time and their disconnect from the cycle. But then, they did have a strange kind of energy, didn’t they? For a moment, he saw their flicker -- child-like bodies with apathetic tails -- and then it was gone. ”Your memories are imprinting on them,” he said plainly. ”We’re alone.”
Still, that brief glimpse unnerved him. He wanted nothing to do with Terra. Least of all its memories.
”Then he brought you to Gaia.” There was nothing behind his words. Not derision, not sadness, not envy. ”I’d wondered if he would.”
That idiot. Risking his life for a bunch of soulless husks? What exactly did he plan to do with them?
”You know who I am,” he said. ”A force of destruction across both Gaia and Terra. Garland’s failure.” His lips drew into a bitter smirk. ”Aren’t you more interested in Zidane? I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. He has a way of showing up where he’s least wanted.”
He’d been useful, at least, that dear, kind-hearted idiot. He was always so easy to manipulate. Almost as easy as a woman drowning in her own greed. They had both danced exactly to his tune.
”So we’ve met. You had your chance to speak. What else do you want?” His tail swished. ”I don’t exactly have a sense of Terran solidarity.”
She watched Kuja carefully. Every muscle he tensed and his fingers biting into his own sleeves. She even observed his intonations and sentence structures. He was growing agitated with her words much like Zidane did the first time she met him. Both had wanted the truth and she had given it. She did not understand what she did to displease them. She was happy to see them, but neither were happy to see her. Perhaps she was defective; unable to properly welcome anyone home.
Her eyes lingered on the orbs of light. She had known the answer before he responded. They were as empty an imitation as her peers. Kuja murmured something about her being brought to Gaia. She conceded he was correct. “I resisted at first. I too wondered what the point was in saving empty vessels. There was an emptiness…” She struggled to describe what happened. “I was content in dying with Terra.” She made no effort then to resist Kuja’s will back then. Would it have spared her this emptiness she felt? She pressed her hair behind her ear, her tail wrapped around her legs as she thought. “But Zidane brought us to Gaia. I don’t understand why. He said something about us all being victims. That perhaps the point was to search for the answer.” Would Kuja understand? She still was trying to contemplate the meaning of these words. “It was Zidane who evacuated us. But it was your creations that allowed us to share their space and to teach us.” Like it or not, in a way, Kuja had continued to protect them through the black mages.
She knew it had not been his intention to save them. Yet, in the end it was still the aftermath. Cause and effect. In the end, it seemed both Kuja and Zidane did their parts to assist in the survival of genomes. “We were once like them. Hollow vessels.” She reminded him gently. Since the rescue, she had contemplated in Black Mage Village. Perhaps, they could evolve. After living among them for nine months with no reactions, she dreamed of the day they would all be alive. “Tell me, is it possible our peers could gain sentience on their own, like the black mages, despite the different materials used?” She only had knowledge in Terran material and technology. Anything related to Gaia she was still ignorant to. She looked to him for the answer. Was that reason enough for a chance? Hope. A possibility to grow.
Then she heard the reasons for it in his words. She stilled as she realized the true reason for his agitation. He believed himself Garland’s failure. He was comparing himself to Zidane. The wind blew hard then and the trees rustled violently with it. She knew who he was. He didn’t need her affirmation. He was beautiful and terrible. He had destroyed life and created life. He both took away purpose and gave hope. He was too complex for her to truly wrap her mind around, but it made her that much more curious.
“Even though Garland isn’t here, his echoes still haunt you.” Kuja had destroyed the body, but he could not destroy the voice. Kuja still carried him despite letting him fall all that time ago. Yet, he was talking like he expected her to treat him like Garland treated him. She reminded him of his painful past. “Garland is no longer here. Why do you still bind me to his rules? Why do you still bind yourself?”
She stirred for a second as if she felt she was supposed to do something, but unsure what. Her tail relaxed. “I see no failure.” Her accidental words from before should have proved that. Her head lolled to the side. She was not on guard around him. There was no need to be. “I see another to welcome.” Her words were soft. He was still a genome, even if he tried to hide it. He would always be welcomed wherever she was.
He could kill her now, if he wanted. Instead he chose to listen to her. He wore the style of the Terrans. He even came to speak with her. His actions seemed to suggest what his words did not. “Will you teach me?” A moment’s pause the illusions of the Terrans dissolved and will-o-the-wisps moved on. “I wish to protect what is left of us.” Kuja and Zidane had saved the Genomes. If any of them were here on this new planet, she wished to safeguard their efforts. She did not know if this was due to the instinct instilled upon her, or her own wishes. But it was what she desired.
Final Fantasy IX
27
YEARS
Agendered
Open
Pansexual
333 POSTS
Fin
Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past.
”I resisted at first. I too wondered what the point was in saving empty vessels.”
She was smarter than Zidane at least -- or at least more self-aware. Kuja glanced at her, not particularly interested but not disinterested either. It was strange, speaking to someone of Terra and genomes. Zidane had acted so recklessly for one reason and one reason alone: he hadn’t understood. To him, the genomes were living, breathing people. Stupid, he knew, but he supposed he couldn’t blame a Gaian for observing the world through a simplistic lens.
A lie. He could entirely blame him. But that was beyond the point.
”Dying for your purpose?” Kuja smirked. That was one thing Zidane had gotten right at least. ”Why not continue living instead? Your strings were broken.” Thanks to him, he supposed. Was that why she was thanking him? It irked him that he’d accidentally done good. Then again…
’No one is useless.’
Why did he have to be right?
”The mages?” Kuja gave a short laugh. ”Is that where you went? The resemblance is uncanny.” Far too uncanny. He’d never had any sympathy for them. ”I suppose they’re likely dead by now anyway. Tragic.”
She was naive. Young. Newly awakened and not quite sure of herself. Had he once been like this? For not the first time, his fur bristled with irritation, but he supposed he wasn’t entirely unamused. She was a blank slate, stumbling into her first awkward steps of self-awareness. And then she just had to get personal.
”Even though Garland isn’t here, his echoes still haunt you.”
Kuja stiffened. ”He doesn't!” Binding himself to Garland’s rules? Garland was dead. And dead by his own hands. Kuja had already proven himself his master’s better. He’d already proven that he didn’t need him, that the old man was weak and stupid. Brought to ruin by his own puppet. It was ironic, really. Kuja could have laughed.
He didn’t.
”I’m not a failure!” He’d been using Garland’s words, that was all. Just meaningless, arrogant words. They held no power over him. ”You think I need your welcome?”
He didn’t. What did he need Terra for? Or the genomes? Or anyone but himself?
Kuja turned on his heel, taking three steps away before crossing his arms again. Stupid. Why had he ever thought he could have a conversation with a genome? Even one with a soul? She was the one still bound to Terra. She was the one hardly released from Garland’s hands. She was the one…
”Will you teach me?”
He paused. ”What?”
’Teach her?’ Teach her what exactly? To protect the rest of their race? Like he knew anything about that. In fact, he had experience in the exact opposite.
Still, he turned to face her. She’d caught his interest. For now.
”What do you want my help for?” He gave her a strange look. ”I’m only good for destruction in case you hadn’t gotten the message. So unless you want to bring this planet to its knees, I suggest you find someone else.”
Still, her intentions pricked his curiosity. How could she still idolize him? After everything he’d done?
He flipped back his hair with a way of his hand, casting his head aside. ”What would you want to learn, anyway? All I have is weapons and magic. Unless you’re dying to know the symbolism of the canary in the works of Lord Avon.”
Wide eyes continued their gaze upon him. The deep pools showed a wavering light. She was trying hard to comprehend. He had not cared whether the Genomes died with Terra, but now he was telling her to live. Her gaze dropped to a patch of withered grass, alight with flickering lights of fireflies. If he and Zidane were telling her the same thing, then it must be something she should do. There was much to learn in this world. Perhaps, these so-called answers to be sought were out there as Zidane suggested. And dying would defeat the purpose of Kuja breaking the bonds for her to be something beyond Garland’s programming.
“…” She had no response for his question on why not continue living. She had no true answer. In her original world, time did not flow. Everything was constant unless Garland willed it. The answers were laid out neatly by Garland. But now, everything flowed, and his answers died with him. She was still searching.
His laugh cut the thin air. Her eyes turned back upon him. “Zidane and Vivi took us there in hopes that it would be a gentle entrance into Gaia.” And now where were the Genomes? Were they still tucked away in that forest? Were they safe without her? Or were they here on this planet? She shifted restlessly at the thought. In their current state, it would be difficult for them to assimilate.
His mention of the dead mages sparked a reminder of their graveyard. How it was for those who were living to observe and remember and not for the dead. If she stopped functioning, would anyone bother to remember her? She wondered if the other Genomes could reach that level of comprehension.
Before she could respond further, her fur stood on end in surprise to see him switch moods so quickly. She felt her skin tingle as well. She already expressed that he had not been a failure. Who was he shouting this at? Her head turned to search to see if maybe his memory had imprinted on another spirit of the woods. But she found nothing.
She felt her heart sink as he began his long strides away from her. As if pulled upon a string, she took two small steps in the same direction. Did she not want to see him fade back into the forest just yet? She was thankful when he did not completely leave her. Did she think he needed her welcome? Of course not. He proved himself to be self-sufficient. “No. I was simply happy to meet with you.” She was honest. The underlying message of ‘But, I need you’ was there, but unknown to her.
He turned to her once more and his mood switched. He was so expressive and so different than the other Genomes. Each emotion was worn clearly, and it was mesmerizing to her. He didn’t wait for her to answer.
“I don’t want anyone else.” She stated plainly and to the point. “This is what the Black Mages taught me.” She would show him what someone else had taught her. Perhaps then he would understand why.
She turned herself away from him as she sought out an object. Finding a mossy rock, she held her hands out. Her brows furrowed just slightly in concentration. Despite her effort, the best she could do was manage to cover the rock in frost, the air cooling around it just enough for the frost to eventually form into ice. A terribly pathetic attempt at a blizzard spell. It even seemed she looked disapprovingly at her own work. Then, she concentrated to reverse it. The flames balled up and blasted the icy rock only to melt it back.
Garland had not taught her. He had banked on Zidane returning and left her in the village for further instruction. He had not the time to spare for her unless necessary. The black mages were also not Genome. Their compositions and abilities caused magic to flow much differently.
The young lady then turned back to Kuja, “Knowledge in weapons and magic can be applied to protection.” He simply had to teach her. She understood that Zidane had only a basic understanding of what the Genomes were, but he was vested in Gaian interests. Kuja had not the capacity to care for the Genomes. It was up to her to keep them safe and make sure they could grow. That is once she could find the others again. For now, she could use it to protect Kuja at least. “I only need to be taught. I can apply the teachings for my purposes.”
She thought on his words a moment more. “I also want to learn more about you.” She had only heard stories and witnessed events as a third-party. She wanted firsthand knowledge. If she learned about him, could she also learn more about herself?
Another awkward pause and then, “Who is Lord Avon? What did he do with ‘canaries’?”
Final Fantasy IX
27
YEARS
Agendered
Open
Pansexual
333 POSTS
Fin
Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past.
He doesn't care? Why should he care? Because he doesn't.
Why should the world exist without me?
Her expression didn’t waver, and neither did her strange adoration. Did she not care how he abused her? Was she really such a wet towel that she’d listen to anyone without so much as a blink of an eye? Kuja felt his tail swish, picking up dirt as it swept quietly over the ground. He knew her kind, and he knew the sentiment. How long had he waited, silently begging for so much as a single word of praise from their master? She embraced Kuja's hostility because she didn’t know any better.
Pathetic.
”I don’t want anyone else,” she said as though to prove his point. Then she turned from him, hands outstretched. ”This is what the Black Mages taught me.”
He felt a stir of magic. It wasn’t strong. In fact it would have been imperceivable to anyone else, but Kuja sensed it like the softest touch of the wind. His eyebrows raised as she squinted in concentration. There was a slight chill and then…
The rock iced over. Or it was more apt to say that it frosted like cold winter dew. Even she looked dissatisfied, but she persisted regardless, bringing a flicker of flame to her hands. She shot it towards its target, and the ice melted leaving only a faint water stain behind.
Kuja watched expressionlessly. It was wrong to say that he was disappointed just as it was wrong to say that he was impressed. He’d expected nothing. He’d received next to nothing in return. What was there to say?
Mikoto turned to him. ”Knowledge in weapons and magic can be applied to protection,” she said. ”I only need to be taught. I can apply the teachings for my purposes.” She paused, a thought passing behind her eyes. ”I also want to learn more about you.”
”Me?” Kuja blinked. Then he touched at his forehead and laughed. ”Because I’m so strong-willed? Because I’m the savior of the genomes?” He lowered his hand. ”I don’t know what you expect. Though if you want to know of Lord Avon..." He smirked. "I suppose that I could read him to you.”
If she wanted. If he had to. He had already transcribed all of the plays by memory, after all.
But that still left the question. What was he to do with her?
Kuja looked up thoughtfully. Did she expect to live with him? Was he supposed to teach her? Care for her? Order her around? It sounded like more of a hassle than a benefit, and he wasn't one to go about parsing favors out of a sheer sense of good will. Still, the thought lingered with him like a wisp of magic at his fingertips. Did he really have anything better to do? Perhaps she would surprise him. It wasn’t like he was in the middle of bringing an empire to ruin at the moment.
”Fine.” Kuja raised a hand, waving it carelessly. ”If you’re so determined to throw yourself under my heel...” He flipped his hair over his pauldron, turning so he wouldn’t have to see her look of satisfaction. Would Zidane have approved of this? Kuja found that he didn’t particularly care. The idiot should have just been grateful that someone was looking after the girl in his stead.
A newly awakened genome dropped on a living planet alone? He doubted she’d have lasted another week without him.
He started walking without waiting for her. ”We can fly by dragon, but we’ll need to find a clearing before she can land. From there, we'll go to either my desert base or to the nearest town. Take your pick.” He remembered a clearing some miles to the southwest. It was a drudge of a walk, but there was no use in wasting time. He glanced back with a dry smirk.
”I don’t suppose there are any more of you skulking about?”
He said little back to her. Her poor display of magic was not even critiqued. In return, she had nothing to respond to and stood there staring with clear eyes. She noticed a slight swish in his skirt and there was a nearly imperceptible frown at her realization. Despite his sharp tones with her, he had dirtied himself with twigs and soil to see her. Was she simply wasting his time? Where had he been going before she interrupted him? Yet, despite feeling sad for having marred his appearance with nature, it made her happy that he made such time for her. He hadn’t needed to.
He seemed to have only picked up on her wanting to learn about him and Lord Avon. And though he repeated some of her reasons back to her, the tone for it felt incorrect. But she listened to him wordlessly at first. Those were not the whole reasons she wanted to learn of him. “You are all of those.” He was strong-willed, she conceded. “And because I was on my own in Bran Bal with my unawakened peers.” Did that even make logical sense? Being alone amongst your own village members? And there had been Garland too? The word for what she felt then eluded her. She could not blame the others for her empty feeling. They simply behaved how they were made. Instead, she remembered reasoning that she would simply awaken them at any cost. All Garland had to do was give her the word that she was to leave. Maybe then the growing feeling would leave her. Or perhaps Garland used this strategy to make her more compliant to the restoration of Terra. “Seeing others like me, I simply want to know more about you and Zidane.” She looked down at the wet rock she simply frosted and unfrosted over. They all bore similar souls, why would she not be curious about them? There was not more she could learn from empty vessels. But she was not sure what to expect either. She absorbed information as readily as she was made to absorb souls.
She picked up on his eagerness for Lord Avon. Was he a computer terminal? She couldn’t help but think of sphere screens popping on and information being spouted at her in Terran. “I would like that.” Him reading Lord Avon would be a start to the learning.
When he conceded to teach her eyes lit up and her tail stuck straight up happily. In the end, he would agree. But much like Garland, he waited not for her. She quickened her pace to follow him. “There are towns?” She asked a little curiously, providing a question for her answer. This whole time she had found caravans and wilderness. But nothing like a town. She would very much like to see what one looks like on this planet.
She looked up at him, as he looked back. He kept using these terms. ‘World on its knees…’ but the world around them did not seem to have knees, and she certainly was not on her’s. And she most certainly did not throw herself under his heel. She was simply following him. And now this skulking? She had not used stealth at all, and she doubted if there were any others, they would do the same. “I was the last.” She stated simply. Her eyes drifting to the dark trees hovering over their path. She could see orbs of light fading in and out in the trees. A faint sound as if children were giggling filled the air. Were the spirits following them?
“Is Zidane here too?” She asked quietly, while her attention turned back to the path. Her hands were folded in front of her as she walked. She watched Kuja’s hem drag in the dirt. Her mind drifted to the other genomes of Bran Bal. “Were the empty ones pulled here?” She still felt concern for them. Her eyes drifted back to see the ghosts in the corner of her vision. She said softly, “The souls here are eager. If tended to properly, then perhaps they can be used to awaken the others." Though it was a curious thing to see souls that were not sleeping. These ones roamed eerily.
Final Fantasy IX
27
YEARS
Agendered
Open
Pansexual
333 POSTS
Fin
Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past.
Even when Kuja's being nice he is still a thoroughly unpleasant person
Why should the world exist without me?
The girl was as ignorant as he’d expected. There were towns? Of course there were. It was natural on any living planet though their technological sophistication was variable to change. Surely she’d retained something from Terra’s datalogs, but then again, he supposed not. She was young, after all. Nine months awakened. She was advanced just to have thought to ask the question in the first place.
”Three of them primarily,” he said. It wasn’t any real matter of interest to him. ”If you’re interested, I’ll take you. Though I doubt you have any real experience.” In anything, actually. How lucky she was that he’d felt so charitable. Kuja himself had been unceremoniously abandoned on Gaia’s surface without so much as a pocketful of gil. He’d once thought their ways strange. He was nothing if not adaptable.
”I was the last,” Mikoto said though Kuja had no way of knowing what that meant. The last granted a soul? The last genome produced? The last one brought through the dimensional rift? It was irritating, but Kuja didn’t bother indulging her. She’d made it clear she was alone. That was all he cared about.
Her eyes wandered back to the stream and the fairy lights still drifting on the wind. Kuja felt their touch prick at the back of his neck, and he suppressed a shiver. They reached for him, pawing for their new vessel. Well this one was thoroughly occupied, thank you very much.
”Is Zidane here too?” Mikoto folded her hands in front of her, glancing down with a kind of quiet dejection. ”Were the empty ones pulled here?”
”How should I know?” There was Zidane again. And the hollow vessels. His eyes flickered with irritation. ”And I don’t care to look either. Zidane’s as resilient as an oglop, and I doubt the genomes would last long on their own. They’d probably wander into the maw of a behemoth. Or maybe straight off a cliff.”
The suggestion came with some personal experience. He’d long made it a game to lure them into the wild parts of Terra infested with monsters thirsting for blood. The genomes were helpless outside of Bran Bal. He’d found it endlessly amusing.
It seemed Mikoto did not share the same sentiment.
”The souls here are eager. If tended to properly then perhaps they can be used to awaken the others.”
”Why bother?” For its own sake? For the sake of empty dolls?”They’re nothing. Their absence is hardly a loss. If anything, the world is better off without them.”
It would be a world without those hollow eyes. A world without their blank monotone, their endless talk of purpose, or their useless complacency.”I don’t know why you’re so insistent, but if you wanted to know the theory…”
Was it possible? He felt his thoughts quicken.
”It’s doubtful. The souls here are corrupted and incomplete. The Mist has a collective will, but I doubt anything of value could be parsed from it.” He considered the possibilities. It would be a challenge, but…
”I suppose one could try to capture a soul from its natural cycle. The technology here is rudimentary, but not nearly as primitive as that of Gaia. If I could fashion my own Divider and store them without damage, they could likely be transplanted into a new host. Though this is all purely theoretical.”
And not something he had any particular interest in pursuing. It was far too much work for very little reward. Even assuming they’d stumble across some empty vessel in the first place.
”You should really give up on the whole affair. There’s no use holding onto your purpose. No matter what’s been beaten into you.” Kuja’s lips soured. ”Isn’t there something more useful you could be doing?”
