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year 5, quarter 3
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[attr=class,bulk] Dion was left reeling. With fury. With turmoil. With concern. He had not spoken of that fateful night at Twinside since its happening, and pain flooded him as it had that night as though spoken back into existence. The smell of blood. Father’s blood. The sight of his body, clutching at the spear which had only a moment before left Dion’s hand. His guttural last word, hand outstretched. Dion’s name.
It was too much. Far too much, and Dion thrust the memory away, sealing it tight. He could not risk it overwhelming him once more. He could not risk losing control. Bahamut, he knew, would spare no soul unfortunate enough to stray in the path of his fury.
Clive spoke at length of the situation at the Northreach garrison. Dion listened with the composure of a sovereign, a commander, a prince. However, when he replied, he found that his voice had gone hollow. ”This ‘Duke’ could be the patriarch of any one of the surviving noble families,” he answered. ”If he’d had any true connection to the seat of Holy Emperor, he would have stated as much. The nobles are always vying for power.”
It was important to keep a level head. This was invaluable information, limited as it was to a single surviving garrison south of Oriflamme. Dion was grateful for it. Or at least, he tried to be.
”You mean the Mistress of the Veil?” he asked tonelessly. ”I know her well though we have never met. Much of my cohort were patrons of her establishment. Only those of us honorable or faithful enough to partners left behind would pass on the excursion.” Another pang of loss struck his heart. The thought of his cohort…Of the knights and dragoons who had traveled at his side…
He had lost many to battle. Others, he had abandoned on his quest to aid in the fight against Ultima. He hoped he would be given the chance to rectify his mistakes. He hoped that there were many who still lived.
The topic returned to Anabella, treacherous and heartless as the demon she had spawned. Clive’s reaction came as little surprise. Dion too was well aware of her intentions. To merge the lines of Bahamut and the Phoenix…
He wondered if his father had shared the same ambition or if, perhaps, the lure of a legitimate heir born within the safe confines of wedlock had been enough to secure their union.
Dion’s full attention was not recaptured until Clive confirmed the events after Dion’s last moments of consciousness. ”She…took her own life?” He frowned, more confused than taken aback. He supposed that the events of that night – of witnessing her husband’s death and Bahamut’s subsequent wrath before Dion had, in the end, managed to steal from her the one child she had ever truly loved…
It was enough to leave a woman in shock. Dion had seen the effects of such a state many times on the battlefield, but he had never known it to progress to suicide.
He had always thought Anabella a woman of pure selfishness, a woman concerned for her life and goals above all else. It was strange to think that in the end she had, ultimately, died at her own hand. Perhaps it was to take the power away from her other would-be murderers? Dion could not say, and his brow furrowed at the effort to make sense of it all.
His eyes flicked back to Clive’s as he spoke of their choice within the condemned castle walls. He was…surprised to say the least. And more than a little touched. ”My life…came first?” Clive had already admitted that they had saved him at Joshua’s insistence, but regardless…
That they would prioritize his life – the prince of an enemy nation, the feral dragon which they had only barely defeated at great personal risk, a practical stranger – over the corpse of their own mother…
”You…have my gratitude,” he muttered, glancing away once more. ”And I am glad to have repaid my debts though it seems they were far greater than I knew.”
A silence fell over him as he processed all that he had heard. It was no easy task, and it was one that would likely occupy him for days to come. Dion sipped from the glass in his hands as he thought and as he secured his composure, grasping for the next step which etiquette would allow in their conversation.
After a moment, he found it.
”It seems I have spent our reunion bombarding you with questions,” he said slowly. ”If there is anything you would wish to know on my end, I would be more than happy to assist.”
Post by Clive Rosfield on Nov 16, 2023 17:30:38 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
"He probably did," Clive responded with a small, unbothered shrug as he smiled slightly. "But I'm not good at listening."
Not when it came to stuffy nobles and lords and their posturing, anyway. He'd bet ten gil that he had definitely spaced out during introductions. But it seemed that "stuffy old dude" didn't quite narrow it down. Maybe he should have said "stuffy old man with a giant ego, an overinflated sense of importance, pasty white skin, and dated values who is far too eager to assert his authority"?
Nay, Clive doubted that would narrow it down anymore than the last one. Alas, it wasn't important. What was important was that their mission had been accomplished, one way or another. And Dion knew of the "Mistress of the Veil" after all, it seemed, though how much was unclear. "I know her as Isabelle," Clive cheeked softly, that smile widening just slightly. It wasn't really much of a secret when he was in another world, and there was no real way to prove that was her name regardless. Not that it mattered, considered she carried many. "Perhaps it is strange to hear this of one in her position. But she is the kindest and most compassionate soul I have ever been fortunate to meet from the Empire. Northreach's people would have been cast out to the akashic without her, and with her, they are in good hands."
She would have made a fantastic politician, if the Empire wasn't so corrupt. Even someone as smart as her would be limited by just how ruthless and selfish those in charge were. He wouldn't tell Dion this -- but Sanbreque would most likely be much better off with the Royal Family gone. And its Mothercrystal as well.
To be honest, Clive didn't know why Anabella had taken her own life. While he wished the events that led to it never happened, that perhaps she could have gotten over herself and they could have lived happily with their father, Joshua, Jill and Torgal for years to come... What happened, had happened. And Ultima had forced him to move on and focus on what he could save.
And losing Joshua made all that he had felt in seeing Anabella die, seem almost moot in comparison. Clive was... He didn't know if being numb to it was quite the way to describe it. But he didn't feel himself grieving for her in perhaps the way he should. Whether it was because she was a monster, because she had never loved him or Joshua, or because of what had happened since... He didn't know. It bothered him a little, she was his mother still. But he did not linger.
Dion was honored, it seemed, when he stated that Joshua had prioritized him. For all of Joshua's compassion... Even he knew that trying to transport them all together would be difficult in his state, and while he would have done it anyway if their mother still lived... He had to prioritize who he could still save. Something he knew grieved Joshua, even after all that she had done.
"It was Joshua's choice. You can thank him when you see him. In my eyes, you did your part and I am grateful for that."
He had to hold out hope that Joshua was here, somewhere. If he didn't have that...
He didn't know what he would have. No purpose, no goals or ambitions... Would it be that all he would have left was the guilt of not being able to save his brother? How could he live this way?
Then Dion would surprise him by asking about if he had questions himself. To be honest, Clive wasn't entirely sure. He had agreed to this to help Dion, to repay him for what he had done. To give Dion some level of closure.
Then it hit him.
“Why didn't you accept Harpocretes' gift?” came Clive’s question, with less thought needed than he had expected. He supposed that Tomes had been on his mind since Dion had walked in the door. “I understand you had your reasons. You told us both as such. But… You and I both knew we most likely weren’t walking away from the fight with Ultima. Our chances of surviving were next to none, and as... None of us did walk away alive.”
Clive was pretty sure he had died, though he had forgotten to tell Dion that. While he felt it likely the Eikons had managed to find a way to transmit his soul here, at the cost of much of his power… Mid had found her way here as well. Which had left him with more questions than answers. Now? He didn’t know anymore. How he got here, why his power was gone… It was all a mystery to him.
“You knew your time was likely short. Yet, you didn’t accept his gift. And continued to spend much of your time kept to yourself. You robbed yourself of spending time with an old and cherished friend, of ensuring you went with no regrets… And Harpocrates will forever wait for you, with that wyvern's tail in his possession, until his dying day."
[attr=class,bulk] Clive sat with his offer, as unexpected as it was, for long enough that Dion began to suspect that his fellow dominant had no questions of his own. When Clive finally spoke, Dion wished that it had truly been the case.
The question was unexpected enough to pierce Dion’s armor of composure, striking him like a lance to the heart. He opened his mouth as though to speak, his eyes widening with what he knew was pain. He quickly averted his eyes, choosing instead to focus upon the clear, cool water in his hands. Clive further explained his reasoning though there was no need. The question was enough.
’Why didn’t you accept Harpocrates’ gift?’
He did not need Clive to plant the image in his head of Dion’s elderly tutor waiting faithfully for his return, heartbroken by the truth that he knew but could not state. He had seen the way hope in the scholar’s eyes had shattered. He had heard the weight of his words weighing heavy upon his aged shoulders. Dion did not need Clive’s aid in the guilt which weighed just as heavily on his heart.
Dion measured his words carefully lest that guilt break free and end him.
“It was not for lack of care,” Dion answered slowly. “Master Harpocrates was once quite dear to me, second only to my own father. He taught me well and sought to challenge the worldview fed to me from birth.” Despite his guilt, despite the pain he had caused, despite the expanse of time between them, Dion could not help but smile. ”I remember his study, so cluttered with his books and maps and paintings that one could scarcely see the walls behind them. It was a source of warmth and kindness within the cold halls of Whitewyrm Castle.”
He let the memory of it linger for a moment longer than he should have. He felt it constrict in his throat, threatening to betray him as he went on.
”He thought to test my knowledge at the dawn of our first lesson. While I was well-versed in matters of history and politics and religion, I knew nothing of the lives of the common people. He challenged me to connect with the castle staff, to learn of their joys and their woes, so that when I one day took the throne, I would do so for the sake of my subjects. I vowed to shoulder any burden to ensure them lives of comfort and peace.”
Dion forced his eyes closed, swallowing hard. ”How could I accept his forgiveness after all that I had done to betray the very values he had instilled within me?”
He let his own silence envelope him. He took that time to collect himself as thoughts of war and destruction sought to drown him. When he spoke again, his voice came softer than before. His eyes remained downcast.
”You hold him in esteem,” he said. ”As do I. You would not see him hurt in such a way, and I know that I have hurt him. If I were as selfless as I ought to be, I should have taken the wyvern’s tail and accepted his words with grace. But I am not. And perhaps…knowing the end would soon come…Perhaps I wished that there was one who knew what had become of me and cared for me still. Perhaps I wished to leave him with a reminder that I had once lived.”
It was an honest answer, more honest than Dion had ever intended. It was shameful in that honesty. Dion had broken an old man’s heart for the sake of his own sentimentality and self-loathing. It was shameful. It was unbecoming.
He hoped that Ifrit would not judge him too terribly for it.
”I am sorry, but I do not think I can speak further of Master Harpocrates. I would not wish to burden you when you already carry so much on your shoulders.”
Post by Clive Rosfield on Dec 8, 2023 17:10:42 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Dion really didn't like Clive's question. To be frank, Clive didn't really like Dion's answer either. In order to give him a memento, he left him with words unsaid and a gift he could never give? Now, Clive wouldn't pretend he was the sharpest marker in the crayon box. But that didn't make much sense to him. Unfortunately, as much as Clive wanted to object, wanted to tell him exactly what he thought -- that he had left his old teacher with regrets because of some sick idea of what he would be left with and who deserved what, or what was or wasn't selfish... Dion made it clear he didn't want to speak further on the matter.
That would have to do. Clive had no desire to upset the Prince further.
"I understand. Thank you for answering, Your Highness," was the best answer Clive could think of in kind. "Perhaps one day, we will all meet again. This world has shown to be filled with possibilities that I had never thought possible."
Speaking of possibilities, Clive did, in fact, have another question. It had slipped his mind before, because he was focused more on his protectiveness of Tomes than anything else. But now that he had a chance to slip free of that mindset, a more practical question came to mind.
"My power has changed since arriving here. I know not if it was the price that I paid to cheat my own death and be sent here, or if that is the way of this world. I've lost most of my power, and can no longer prime. But I have not met another Dominant to check notes with, until now."
He had also stolen most of Dion's power himself, so he wasn't even sure if the rules still applied. The difference was, however -- Dion had been able to prime against Ultima. Clive couldn't prime whatsoever, no matter how hard he tried.
[attr=class,bulk] Though Clive spoke nothing of it, his distaste for Dion’s reasoning was clear in the tightening of his lip and the slight wrinkle of his nose. Dion, who had survived a world of hidden meanings and half-buried hostilities, had developed a sense for such things. Clive did not need to speak it, and though he thanked Dion for his honesty, Dion knew that this itself was somewhat disingenuous.
Clive was courteous beyond what Dion deserved. Master Harpocrates, once expelled from the empire’s borders for false charges of heresy, had found a home among those rebels and outlaws under Cidolfus’ command. Clive, expelled from his homeland and forced to serve the empire, had found much the same. They must have formed a bond like teacher and student, an inevitability once introduced to Harpocrates’ warmth. Clive knew the elderly scholar well, and his fondness was well-earned.
He knew little of Dion. Though they had both been born into nobility, though they both fought for the sake of Valisthea, their sensibilities differed to the point of farce. Dion wished they could see eye to eye. He wished, in this strange time torn from nearly all others of the Twins, that they could find common ground and perhaps even kindle a friendship.
But that seemed an impossibility. As Clive continued, Dion could only sigh in return. ”Yes. This place, this chance, should be impossible,” he agreed. ”Yet my thoughts lie only with the fate of Valisthea.”
He had been born to wield great power for the sake of his people. He had been raised to die in their defense. Yet here he sat, stolen from his fate by mysterious circumstances, while his people fought for their very lives.
Terence would tell him that he had earned his rest. Terence would urge him to find peace and to allow himself the time to heal. His heart ached with his absence and Dion’s utter solitude.
Yet Clive did not allow his thoughts to linger. The eldest Rosfield brother had already pushed forward, seemingly speaking his musings aloud.
Dion’s eyes lifted to meet Clive’s, brow furrowed in confusion. ”You’ve lost your power?” That Clive could no longer prime made a kind of sense. He had awoken at Ultima’s command, and if Ultima was truly defeated then perhaps this new Eikon of Fire had been likewise dispelled. But the majority of Clive’s power did not come from Ifrit alone.
”Then Bahamut’s light is truly…?” Dion felt something tighten in his throat. Clive had taken that light for himself, a fair price for the atrocities that Dion had committed, lost to its might. But now, if Clive had truly lost that light…
Bahamut’s light…
His light…
”I…have not attempted to prime,” Dion said, half choking on his own dread. ”It seemed unwise given my emotional state.” This much was true. While Dion had managed to keep his will once before, every second had been a battle with Bahamut’s wilder impulses. Only Dion’s unbending resolve had kept his wings steady, every flare of light and flash of his fangs of his own volition.
Now his resolve was shattered. Without it, he was a danger to himself and this new, peaceful world which had welcomed him.
”What power have you retained?” he asked as though the answer would not devastate him. As though Clive had not carried a part of his soul now lost and forsaken. ”I do not know if I can be of aid, but I can certainly try.”
Post by Clive Rosfield on Dec 21, 2023 16:04:26 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Clive wasn't good at hiding his feelings, something he was very much aware of. But it was what it was. He was protective of someone that had been at his side for many a year when not many were. And Dion had slighted him, in Clive's view. Dion's reasoning was unsatisfactory, but he would gain nothing from pressing further except to bring Dion further discomfort. All he could do was hope that one day, perhaps years down the line, Harpocrates would join them here and Dion could finally give him peace. What little optimism he had left wanted to think that Dion would happily do so if that day came.
In that, he had tried to bring Dion some level of comfort. He harbored no real resentment towards Dion, and did not wish him anguish. Regardless of their disagreements, he had fought and died for their crusade against Ultima. And he had suffered by Anabella's hand, much the same as he had. But there was no comfort to be had -- perhaps their viewpoints were just too different. And yet, as bullheadedly stubborn as the once-Lord Rosfield could be, it would not stop him from trying.
"Trust your people. You fought for their right to live, and to live free" Clive decided to try that idea again. "Now it's their turn. You and I both share a desire to be there and see our people, whether they were ones we once governed over, or those we loved... To a peaceful tomorrow with Ultima gone. I understand that. But we did what we could, to ensure that Valisthea's fate is in their hands, no matter the cost to us. And I trust my people completely. They will do right by the world... And hopefully one day those we love will be here to tell us all about it."
Clive glanced around the room a moment, just... Taking in for that moment where he was. Where, truly, he really was.
"In the meanwhile, the best thing for us is to focus on the future. We were brought to this world for a reason. I know not what my future holds, but this world has people who have done their best to aid me. If I can protect their world the same as Valisthea, I will do so. It is only right, that I do right by them. As for yourself, Your Highness... What you do now is yours to dictate."
Predictably, he supposed, Dion wasn't thrilled to hear that he had lost his power. Including that which he had taken from Dion. Clive had almost forgotten that he had siphoned Dion's power in particular -- it wasn't exactly voluntary, after all. So the questions came, and Clive took a long, deep breath. He really should have asked that woman for a drink.
“I apologize if this is difficult to hear.”
He understood Dion's worries. He would perhaps have been the same in his position. Ifrit had become a part of him -- he would likely feel the same distress if his connection to Ifrit had been taken, and then disappeared completely. Just as his connection to the others had disappeared...
This was how it felt, wasn't it? To have your eikon taken from you? What he had done to Benedikta, Kupka, Cid, Dion, Jill, Barnabas and Joshua? For what had become part of you to suddenly disappear? He did not feel kindred to the others the same way he did Ifrit, but if it had been Ifrit...
There was a pause as he tried to piece together where to even begin with this. He supposed... It was best that he finish his previous story.
"Back at Origin. With the power of the Eikons put together, I slew Ultima. As with the others, I unwittingly took his power. I tried to use it alongside the power of the Phoenix to heal Joshua... But I know not if I succeeded. The attempt quickly began to destroy my body. Ultima's power was too much for my body to handle. Knowing my time was short, I used all that I had left in me to destroy Origin. To end the Blight and wipe that last piece of Ultima from our world, setting it free at last. Soon after, the Curse rapidly took hold and thus, brought my life to an end."
He'd died, or at least he seemed to. He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened when he lost consciousness, and could only make guesses.
"I awoke here. I saw this city's crystal... And I thought we had failed. That one more clone of Ultima still remained. I stormed the castle, intent on finishing the job and avenging Joshua. But a Bearer, that woman who leads these Dragonblades, stood in my way. While I suspect she may be her world's Dominant of Ice... Despite being a Bearer, she fought with all she had to protect that Mothercrystal. It was such a strange and disturbing sight, to see her and other Bearers fighting with their very lives to protect the bastion of which our nations had turned them into slaves, tools... Things, instead of people. I was still wounded from the fight with Ultima, so I attempted to prime in hopes of destroying the Mothercrystal before it was too late. But I couldn't."
He looked down at his hand. A hand which should have called Ifrit forth, and yet... "My connection to Ifrit is there... Yet it has weakened substantially. My connection to the Phoenix is... About the same as it was before Joshua died. I still retain its blessing, but as an Eikon, it is no longer mine to command. Rauru, my last memento of Cid... Titan, Odin, Garuda, Shiva..."
He gave Dion an apologetic look. He didn't want to break it to him, but...
"... And Bahamut. My connection to them is gone. I'm sorry."
He couldn't undo what had been done. He could not give Dion back his power, nor would he even know how if he could. He wished he didn't have to bring Dion that pain, but that was the reality of their situation.
"I was able to semi-prime against that Bearer. So Ifrit is still there, as is the Phoenix's blessing, but thus far, no more. It allowed me to survive long enough to enter negotiation. Because of her, I searched the crystal for signs of Ultima... And found nothing."
A long sigh ensued from that. "Even now, I've caused the people here pain and suffering, as always seems to fall in my wake. No matter what my intentions are."
Something he didn't like to show, and had refused to show much of the time around the Cursebreakers. The fact that he'd had to push forward because it was the right thing to do... But deep down, the impact of all he did in the short-term would cause people pain. In the long-term, it was the right thing for them... And the only way for them to survive. To prosper. It bothered him, that sacrifice he'd needed to make. He didn't mind being labelled an outlaw, or a criminal, a menace, a beast, a freak, any of it. But the suffering he had caused others would forever be etched in his soul. And now, without knowing all the details, without considering he could be in another world entirely, he had caused these people grief.
"I'm at least grateful that Lady Chere was able to stop me before it was too late. Allowed me to remain here, and try to pick up the pieces. I will admit that I feel like parts of myself are gone. Both from the loss of the Eikons... And losing Joshua. But the power I took was never taken willingly. If I could return it to you, I would."
A thought occurred to him, then. The same one that had spurred his concern before...
"Lady Chere informed me that horrible, powerful people from these people's respective worlds have come to this one. I have no proof to support this, but it is possible that if other Dominants, such as Benedikta, Kupka and Barnabas are here as well... Their power may have returned to them."
That was a horrifying thought. But if Clive had kept a very specific part of his power, while losing the ones that weren't directly tied to him...
He stared at Dion, studying his face to try and discern an answer as he spoke.
"How much of your power have you attempted to use, Your Highness?"
[attr=class,bulk] Clive told him many things. There were affirmations and sympathies and more tales than Dion knew what to make of. Every time he felt a question on his tongue, another took its place. Destroying Origin had ended the Blight? But how? Clive had succumbed to the Curse? But was he not meant to be the only man immune to it?
And then there was the confirmation that Bahamut lived no more.
Dion swallowed, nodding slowly at the news. It had not been expected when he had walked into these mercenarial halls, but it was no surprise now. He felt no shock – only a dull numbness that threatened to overtake his heart. Bahamut had been a gift from Greagor graced upon her Holy Empire. Bahamut had been his burden to carry, his purpose of existence, the core of all they held dear. With Drake’s Head shattered, with Oriflamme in shambles, with the empire fractured and piecemeal, there had been only Bahamut to remind him of what once was. Clive had never truly connected with the King of Dragons. Not as Dion had known him. But it was still there. Stolen and displaced, perhaps, but alight with holy fire all the same.
Clive assured him that he would have returned Bahamut’s power had he the ability. He sounded apologetic as he informed him that he had stolen that light unwittingly. He’d had no choice in the matter. These were fine sentiments, but it did not change his reality.
Bahamut’s might had graced Dion with opportunity. It had laden his shoulders with the weight of an empire. It had afforded him company which he treasured beyond measure. It would mean the end of his life. Yet it had always been there, a part of him, inextricable and tied to his very soul.
He wondered, truly, if his salvation from death was a punishment for that loss.
Dion did not interrupt Clive as he spoke. He could not find the words even if etiquette had allowed for such a thing. Instead he waited, eyes dull with loss, until the eldest Rosfield asked a question of him in earnest.
”How much of your power have you attempted to use, Your Highness?”
Dion frowned, brow furrowing. He knew Clive’s true question – could it be that the power of the Eikons could return to those from which it had been stolen? Dion had spoken true. He wished to aid Clive in any way he could, but this…
”I have not made the attempt,” Dion said simply. He placed his glass of water back on the table before straightening once more. ”Til now, I did not think it a possibility. I am still weak from the wounds I have sustained.”
Clive had told him the tale of his ill-fortuned arrival, stolen away from the clutches of death itself. Dion supposed he should return it with a tale of his own.
”I was found on the side of a road outside the capital city of a kingdom to the north of this one,” Dion began. ”A talented healer brought me to consciousness. My wounds, it seems, were consistent with that of a fall from some great height.” He paused. Neither Clive nor his brother had witnessed Dion’s end and so he added, ”The last I remember, my Eikon had shattered, and I could take flight no more.”
Dion closed his eyes, remembering that final moment of relief in his passing, before he shook his head and went on. ”For several weeks, I have been bedridden. This has been my first excursion from the healer’s clinic. So no. I have had no reason to test my strength.”
In fact, he had the sneaking suspicion that he would be scolded even for traveling this far. Had he so much as lifted his lance, Healer Yuna’s wrath would most certainly fall upon him.
Dion gazed down upon his gloved hand. Could his light…truly have returned? As much as he mourned its passing, he felt no excitement at the thought it may have found its proper place once more. He had proven himself unworthy of its power. Would Bahamut allow its use for one so lost and desolate?
He took a deep breath and tried to find the light within. He thought he felt it stir, but that was not unusual. Its echo had never truly left him. But it had only been that – an echo.
He attempted to bring that stirring to fruition, stoking its warmth like the embers of a dying hearth, and he felt it rise until his hand was alight with its silver-white glow. He tried to push it farther, but when it refused to budge, he let it go with a deep, regretful sigh.
He did not know if it eluded him due to Clive’s actions or his own weakness.
”Apologies, Ifrit,” he said. ”It seems I can give no answer.”
He was silent for a moment, thoughtful and brooding, before he raised his head, attempting to sort those thoughts into something more useful. ”I know not if you have ever struggled to harness Ifrit’s fire,” he said. ”I have found that my power comes most easily when my nature and Bahamut’s align. Bahamut is…proud. As the king of dragons, he stands regally above all, eager to protect his subjects and bear wrath upon those who have wronged him.”
Bahamut, a king. Dion, a prince. Despite this correlation, their natures rarely fit without effort. Bahamut knew no mercy. Dion often found himself twisting his own thoughts in order to fill Bahamut’s shadow.
”It is possible that Bahamut’s light remains lost to me. It is equally possible that some combination of my wounds and my doubts have barred me from the power of my eikon. If I should find it once more, I shall send word in haste.”
Regretfully, there was no more which he could offer.
Post by Clive Rosfield on Jan 11, 2024 12:57:56 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Clive regretted that the news would likely hurt Dion. It was far from what he would have wanted to tell the once-Crown Prince of Sanbreque. But it was as things happened, and there was seemingly nothing he could do. Except one thing, which was look for hope. Clive didn't know if it was possible for Dion's power to return, but considering he still had Ifrit at all after all that had happened, it was worth investigating. Unfortunately, Dion had not attempted. Of course he hadn't, there had to be a reason for him to try. And by the sounds of it, he had rushed to Torensten fairly soon after arriving. Clive listened to this tale, one echoing his own. Wounded from the battle against Ultima, as he had, and finding those who would help here in Zephon. Until they encountered a familiar face. In both their cases, that was Mid.
So these wounds... Had Bahamut fallen and then Dion had returned to his normal form, only to hit impact from a ground height before his transfer here? Joshua had known of Dion's passing, though Clive had known before his brother had said anything. No more had he been able to sense Prince Dion, not even what remained of Bahamut within him could be found. He hadn't seen what had happened, but the thought that he had died from falling at a great height...
Dion's death pained him, even if they were not close. He wished that Dion did not have to suffer so. But it was the burden that they had taken on. Yet for a moment, he could almost swear he felt something when Dion tried to focus his power... It was faint, but...
Dion claimed he could give no answer. But Clive knew he felt something. At the least, Dion didn't seem ready to give up just yet. Good. Clive nodded at that. “That is acceptable. We have time. I will most likely be here if you find anything. I remain in house arrest with these Dragonblades, for how long I know not. Though I know I should be grateful I am here at all, with how important that mothercrystal is to this city. I suspect the only reason I’m here and not in either a dungeon or a hole, is because the king was eavesdropping on Lady Chere and I," expressed Clive in a voice of quiet acceptance of just how fortunate he technically was. Even if it didn't feel like it.
But he had seen that king and his men while he and Miss Chere had been conversing. Peering from the shadows, armed to the teeth. Looking for the right moment to jump in and take him down. But while the moment never came, these few moments were likely the reason Hremit had tried to spare him. And why he had accepted Celes' offer to hold him here. Happenstance that may be his salvation... Or perhaps not. One party may have overheard his story, but he knew by his reading that there were others in power who had not.
"At present, I can semi-prime, but no more. It may be that as our strength returns, we may be able to harness more of it again," Clive tried his best to be optimistic. "But Ifrit's power doesn't feel like it is there in the way that it once was. I am unsure of my limit, or yours."
He hadn't been able to hold the semi-prime state for long. If Lady Chere had kept fighting for any longer, he wouldn't have lasted.
[attr=class,bulk] Thankfully, Clive did not seem to hold Dion’s lack of certainty against him. He merely nodded and gave his affirmation. It was acceptable. He would be stationed here for the foreseeable future. He was, after all, on “house arrest.”
Dion nodded solemnly. He understood what it was like to pace in one’s own cage, ever reminded of his good fortune. He also understood the weight of the man’s crimes. If any man had been caught trying to destroy the Mothercrystal at Drake’s Head, they would have faced execution. Of course, Clive had destroyed the Mothercrystal at Drake’s Head, but he hadn’t exactly faced justice.
It made Dion wonder of this nation and its king. Even with the good word of a mercenary on Clive’s side, how was it that he had escaped state imprisonment, let alone execution? Dion could not think of a single nation in all of Valisthea which would act in such a way towards a criminal caught in the act of endangering its Mothercrystal.
What were the motives of this unknown king? Of this unknown nation? Perhaps Clive wasn’t quite so fortunate as he seemed.
”Keep caution, Ifrit,” Dion answered. ”I sense…other forces at play behind your pardon. Perhaps this king truly is as merciful as he seems, but I know well the machinations of an empire. No king nor emperor nor arch-duke would let a criminal of your caliber walk free. Either their crystal is truly meaningless or they have other plans for you. I would not see you lose your freedom again.”
Dion let out a low sigh. How many Imperial Bearers had he seen fall in the line of battle? How many could have been Clive had Greagor willed it so? Dion had always taken care to regard the Bearers with civility, but he could not deny that his nation’s policies were…cruel at best.
”There is no shame in a semi-primed state,” Dion said. ”An Eikon is not easily tamed and exists only for destruction. Perhaps it is for the best that you cannot embody such power. I do not know your relation to Ifrit’s fire, but I understand your feelings of loss. Bahamut’s light had accompanied me since birth. Losing it felt like losing myself.”
Dion picked up his glass again, sipping at the water until he had drained the last of it. ”Even should that light return, I would never wish to harness my Eikon again. Bahamut has wrought too much destruction. At my father’s command and…at my own.” Dion’s gaze dulled. He could not change the past, but perhaps he could help change the future. ”This world is not ruled by war,” he said. ”It has no need for Eikons, and I would not give it that need.”
Post by Clive Rosfield on Mar 27, 2024 11:21:39 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Clive smiled slightly when Dion actually seemed concerned for his welfare when it came to the intentions of this King Hremit. That was surprisingly sweet of him. “It’s possible. I know just as you do the perils of fully trusting the leaders of any nation,” Clive agreed in kind. They both knew Dion knew that, considering their recent conversation. “I have no reason to trust any person in power. But what I sense from him… Actually reminds me of my father. My father gave people chances that others would hesitate in doing, both because of his strong heart, and because he hoped it would lead to what was best for Rosaria. It was how he lived, as beloved as he was…”
He closed his eyes a moment, before opening them again to tilt his head upwards, lost in his thoughts
“… And it was how he died. Trusting people that he shouldn’t have.”
Perhaps not the most tactful thing to say to Dion of all people, but it was the truth of the matter and tiptoeing around it wasn't going to make things any better. The fact was, his father had tried to see something in his mother. His father had tried to see something in the Empire. Just as he saw something in Clive, no matter how much his mother rebuked him. No matter how much she called him worthless and inferred that he should be disposed of like trash. Clive had done all he could to keep his father's memory alive in turn... But it didn't change the fact that while his father had lived by an honorable sword, he had also died by it. His judge of character had never been perfect.
Dion tried to comfort Clive regarding only being able to semi-prime in a way that made Clive feel a little bit better about his own lacking tact. Because "Maybe it's for the best you can't fully prime because your eikon only exists to destroy" was a really, really poor choice of words when said to someone still processing that loss. He understood Clive's feelings of loss, he said, while outright insulting Ifrit in the same breath. Clive stared at him a moment for that. It wasn't like Clive didn't know how destructive Ifrit could be when it was out of control. But reminding him of that now of all times, while he was also mourning Joshua who had almost died at Ifrit's claws before? Definitely not the Crown Prince's finest moment. But he sighed and let himself a moment to regain composure before saying anything. Patience, Rosfield. It wasn't like you hadn't been blunt either.
As Dion finished his thought, stating that Bahamut was the same, he managed a nod. "I can live without being able to prime. My mission is complete. However, we may both feel differently if Benedikta, Kupka and Barnabas return as well, with eikons intact" Clive responded in kind. Everytime he thought about those monsters returning, he wished he had asked for that drink. If he could scrounge together some gil, maybe he should look for something in town? "This world may not be ruled by war, but there are those within it who wish to bring that war to its doorstep, with or without those from our world doing so" he added as Clive pointed Dion towards the lookout posters that had been placed on the walls. "These Dragonblades keep track of the biggest known threats to this world's balance. And I doubt either you or I would stand idly by if they were to appear."
He knew Dion well enough at least, to say that. Considering he had lain his life on the line already. "At the least, right now they are the only problem. When I was in the castle, I found out that their mothercrystal is indeed the genuine thing. But it is… Different. It takes in aether, the same way our world’s mothercrystals did. But unlike the ones created by Ultima, the amount they take is insurmountably less. And this land is abundant with it, something I’m told is especially true in this particular region. These people will never have fear of the Blight," was something said that Clive never thought he would. A place free of Blight... Free of hatred for Bearers. It was perfect. It was his dream come true. "The aether around it also feels different, less… Thick. I asked Lady Chere about the risks of the crystal’s attendants becoming akashik, but nobody here has even heard of such a thing. It was when I realized the Mothercrystal wasn’t a danger and that I could not sense Ultima’s presence within, that I stood down and surrendered. I understand that regardless of the circumstances, I should be judged for my crimes.”
It was too good for him, after what he had done. Clive neglected to mention to Dion that when he had surrendered, he no longer cared if he lived or died. He was in a strange land with no way home, his goal had been fulfilled, and Joshua was gone. He should have died the first time around himself, after all.
“I still have a trial pending. I will likely find out this nation’s true intentions for me there. If I make it out of this... I would hope to count on you as an ally if this world comes under threat again. For one reason or another, it has chosen to spare us both. I intend to find out why, and I don't forget my debts.”
