Clive was getting tired of telling this story. Trying to tell people that this had been a misunderstanding. A grievous one on his part, but something he hadn't been able to control, exactly. Some people understood, but others? That mothercrystal was sacred to them. They couldn't overlook it so easily, regardless of the reason. And for someone who had lived in Valisthea? He understood that all too well, far more than he would ever have liked to. He didn't want to admit that, because it would acknowledge that this way of life in Valisthea was... Normal. That it should be considered anything more than the abomination that it was. But for its people... That's what it was. It was a norm that Clive had disrupted, and threatened by nature of his very being.

He sure as hell didn't want to have someone seek him out just to talk about it. But Clive's woes had only continued to grow, and he was almost starting to regret that he had survived. This was further shown in the form of some "journalist" getting to his room, or seemed to be one by the name "Torensten Times". How had she gotten past Tomoe without him first being told about it? Not that Tomoe likely cared much for his privacy considering he had earned her ire after that crystal stunt. But he could hear the clatter of heels and smell something ungodly foul long before she reached the door. Clive had been reading through a book on Zephon's history in his room when he had mistaken the sounds for some sort of monster that had gotten in. Then they had spoken up, and to be honest?

He would have taken the monster.

At the very least, Clive supposed. An interview could soften his image. Or make it worse. But she was already here, and had already hunted him down. And Clive, who was no stranger to being hunted down, knew the best thing to do was to confront his pursuer directly.

"Of course. I will be but a moment."

That gave him a minute to get Torgal to heave off him, since the oversized pooch had been napping on his chest while he was reading. How this bed had held the weight, he wasn't sure. But he had heard the group's other leader was a large man, it was likely they had commissioned beds for the place with size like his in mind. Not the couch, however. Perhaps he should charge for his time so he could afford a replacement for the couch that Torgal destroyed.

Nah. Just be polite and get this over with.

Clive took a moment to fix up his hair and look somewhat presentable before opening the door. His body language had changed the moment it opened, his rougher and more rushed movements replaced with something more smooth and elegant. The truth of the matter was, this woman was a stranger. And one whose products reached the city as a whole. He knew it was best he looked the part, even if he really didn't want to do so. Because a misstep could make his situation even worse. The way Clive Rosfield walked, the way he ran, the way he carried himself... Much of the Rest had looked at him like some kind of intimidating monster. He didn't need to have that happen here. Fortunately, one thing he still remembered from his childhood was all that time practicing theatre with Uncle Byron. So for a little bit at least, for diplomacy's sake... He could play the part of passing as the lord he once was.

"I am grateful for your patience, Miss Vayne. What can I do for you?" he spoke gently, doing his best to withhold an urge to projectile vomit at the overwhelming smell of her perfume. He would close the door behind him, not wanting to have it bother Torgal.

"You may."

It was in his best interests to be nice, and really, Clive didn't have any reason to look down on this journalist. Sure, she was probably just looking for a story to make a bit of gil for herself and renown in her profession, but was there really anything wrong with that? So long as what she printed was truthful, he had no reason to judge her. Even if he really didn't want to talk about this... He had nothing left to lose, and everything to gain. The people of Torensten already hated him. It was a position he had grown all too familiar with. If this went wrong, at least he could say that he tried.

Us, she said. Us, referring to people from... Other worlds, wasn't she? Interesting, so she wasn't a native to this world either. Perhaps there was truth to her words. Perhaps not. He wouldn't know until he tried, he supposed. And she did seem to have a clear goal in mind. His presence here had made things harder for her, and other offworlders, seemed to be the implication. And her goal was to find a means to amend that.

"I would be happy to oblige you for an interview, Miss Vayne" Clive responded in kind. While she had asked, and been granted, the permission to call him Clive. She had not asked that she be called by an informal name herself. It was better he stick to formalities until told otherwise. Politics 101, if his uncle was to be believed.

He certainly hoped his uncle was right.

She also wanted to cut straight to the point: The why. He could appreciate that, and he would have recommended that exact thing if she hadn't. People wouldn't care about an article on him if she started with his background, or what his favorite color was. If anyone read at all, it would be to find out the truth of why this crazy offworlder had attacked their Mothercrystal. Even if just to justify their hatred. That was the way his world had worked... And while there were differences here, he doubted that part had changed.

"Why don't we find a place to sit down and we can get started?" Clive offered then, motioning towards the common area. This venue choice wasn't without strategic reason, either. If they used the chambers he had been sleeping, he would suffocate. And Torgal would probably get mad, too. The fireplace in the commons would drown out the smell of her perfume, and give him some room to think.

"Violet it is," Clive responded with what he could manage of a cheery smile. He wasn't really in a smiling mood, but he wanted them to be sure that everything was fine and he was no danger to her. Of course, the smile probably came off more tired than anything. Why? Because he was tired. Eikons within, was he tired.

Once they had sat down near the fire, Clive shifted a bit to the other side. On the surface, perhaps he was giving her space, perhaps some polite nobleman thing. In truth though, he just needed enough space to not choke on her perfume. That would make this far easier. However, she did not ask the question he had expected her to start with. Instead, she wanted to know more about his background.

Well, he supposed a little bit of background couldn't hurt, right? Enough to build up to the "why". If they didn't understand what led him here, maybe telling the why would be a problem. They needed a complete story, he supposed. Or, that's how it seemed to make sense in his head. She was the journalist, at the end of the day. She was the one writing the article.

"Well," Clive began as he considered his words carefully. He reached down to scratch behind the ears of Torgal, whom had followed and flopped down below him. It seemed that even with the strong smell she emitted, Torgal refused to leave him alone with a stranger. "My name is Clive Rosfield, previously the Lord-Marquess of Rosaria. Which exists in the land of Valisthea. I was firstborn to the reigning Archduke, expected to take the throne of Archduke after becoming the Dominant of the Phoenix. The Phoenix being one of our world's Eikons, an important figure in our world and the centerpiece of Rosaria's culture. But I..."

This was reopening a wound he had not wanted to reopen, and he paused a moment to take a breath, considering whether he really wanted to do this. Then again, how many wounds had he reopened now since coming here? Perhaps getting it on paper would help him finally start to reconcile all of it.

"I was rejected by the Phoenix. Then by my own mother. My younger brother, Joshua, was instead chosen to take on the Phoenix's power. I worked my way up to become his First Shield, fulfilling my duties to Rosaria by instead protecting its future Archduke."

Clive couldn't help a quiet, almost bitter laugh. "If only I knew how small that all was, in the grand scheme of things. Valisthea, which comprises the continents of Ash and Storm, relies heavily on the magic of crystals and magic users, similarly to Torensten's people. But instead of treating these magic bearers, called Bearers for short, with respect... Whether it was the Empire, the Republic or the Dominion, their powers and their people treated Bearers as lesser-born slaves. Freaks, trash... Existing only to serve and then be discarded when overusing our magic kills us."

Clive pointed to the scar on his face, then. "This scar lays where a Brand once was. Especially in the Empire, they would take Bearers from their homes when born, or otherwise discovered, and would mark them, branding them as slaves. The brand is laced with wyvern poison, with an agonizing death awaiting those who attempt to remove it. It took a lot of time, and a steady hand, for me to survive doing so."

Talking about it objectively was a little bit easier, let him speak more confidently by giving her the facts instead of leaning too much on his personal experience. It was as simple as reciting his lessons, with his own spin on it.

"Bearers, and contraptions operated through magic, drew their magic from the Mothercrystals scattered across Valisthea. They were the core of our way of life. But they were also killing Valisthea itself. Aether being siphoned from the air led to a disaster called the Blight when that aether is used up. Blighted lands are barren, inhospitable, unable to sustain life. With no aether, magic cannot even be used in these blighted lands. Over time, each nation went to war with one another over what land was left unblighted."

Turning Valisthea into hell on earth. Especially for Bearers.

Perhaps he had gone into a bit too much detail in telling that story. Tomes had informed him he had a habit of doing that. Perhaps that was why he had asked Clive to write a book. Perhaps in time... He would be able to do just that. It may not be published where he wanted it to be, but... How could he refuse such a request from an old friend? Still, he hoped he hadn't overwhelmed Miss Vayne too much. That wouldn't do, but he hoped he had been able to set the scene well enough to give her an idea of why he had done what he did.

The foundation had been put down with mention of the Mothercrystals, after all. But there was far more to it than that. For her to understand just why he had committed such a horrible sin in the eyes of Torensten's people. But Violet's first follow-up question was more personal in nature, and Clive visibly winced when she asked it. "Ahh, that answer is extremely personal" he answered, and while Clive did keep up a good-natured smile all the while, it was pretty clear he was hiding a great deal of pain behind it.

How did one explain that their own mother sold out her husband, her children, her entire people -- then after changing her mind on executing him, had him branded and made a military slave? So he decided to take his time with that one. Let her talk about her own world for a bit, which she seemed quite happy to do. Was she trying to show she understood or empathized? He wasn't sure. But he did welcome the break. So her world had a... Corporation, it was called? What was a corporation? He didn't know the word, but either way it seemed to be some kind of providing body. And aether was its provision, taken without permission or consent from the very planet itself. And with some seriously disturbing implications when it came to souls too. So they farmed people's souls to provide electricity? Electricity and such in a pure and non-magical form were fairly new in Valisthea, something of Cid's design. But to think these ones were powered by the souls of the dead...

Eesh. And he had thought it was just Ultima that was messed up. And what if their aether WAS the "lifestream", or spirits taken form? Not something that Clive wanted to think about. But the part about "terrorists" made him almost laugh. She was almost there, almost right to the point of exactly why he had done what he did. And she knew it, too. Clive smiled softly at that note, before taking her cue to go on.

"Your previous question is personal because... Not even Rosaria was able to keep the greed of warmongers at bay. Our own allies, the Empire of Sanbreque, perpetuated a massacre at Phoenix Gate. Which is essentially a holy site for Rosaria's religion when it comes to the Phoenix. We had stopped there, on the way to intercept an army forming at our doorstep, so Joshua could convene with the Phoenix as part of our traditions. And that was when our own allies, the Empire, attacked us in the night. It was... Horrible. Our father was killed before our very eyes, and in the process... Awakened the Eikons that lay asleep within both Joshua, and myself. Joshua, the Phoenix... And myself, Ifrit. In our state, neither of us could control our Eikons, could not save our people... Or each other. My little brother was seemingly slain, and I awoke to Sanbreque's bloodletters searching for survivors, accompanied by my own mother."

He had left out some details, because quite frankly he was not getting into the fact he had almost killed Joshua himself as Ifrit. It wasn't necessary for this story, and probably wouldn't help him either. But even without that part, this was... Difficult, to talk about. More than he had expected. Clive's gaze moved away, as the once-marquess took a deep breath to try and quell his shaking hands.

"They found me. They, and my mother found me. She had sold out her husband, her children... Her own people, to Sanbreque. And she ordered my death. I could hear it, too. All of it. Then she changed her mind... Decided since my father had so many times stood up for me when she had deemed me trash to be discarded, in some twisted act of spite she would put his words to the test. And had me branded. The Empire is notorious for how it treats Bearers, forcing them into military service and working them until their magic kills them. And that's how I spent the next thirteen years. A slave, forced to use my magic to fight for the Empire. Until I found Jill, my childhood friend, and the Dominant of Shiva."

After he had gone a great deal into personal, he found himself veering towards more informative again, which made it easier. Still... It was Jill, it wasn't an easy thing to talk about either. "-Who after the ambush had been taken hostage by another nation and forced to use her magic as a Dominant for war. Dominants were prized, those who could fully control and harness their Eikon didn't just use their magic... They could prime, changing into the Eikon itself. Making them perfect tools for war. Some were given titles or positions, buying their loyalty. While others, like Jill, were forced to use their magic for killing, or else. For her, those barbarians of the Iron Kingdom had taken other Rosarians hostage, and would kill them if she didn't do their bidding."

Needless to say? Valisthea was hell, and man's greed for magic was the source of it. Using slaves and coercing the cooperation of Dominants to kill thousands, all in their pursuit of the Mothercrystals to power their nations. It was horrible, and neverending. Not until someone did something about it. "The Empire had sent me and other Branded slaves to assassinate Shiva, to give them an edge in their wars. As soon as I realized it was Jill, I deserted. We were saved by a man named Cid, who was the Dominant of Ramuh."

He looked down at Torgal when the hound made a huffing sound at him, opening one eye to stare up at Clive. Clive huffed right back at him. "And you, too. Couldn't believe you were still alive after all those years."

He found a bit more confidence then, to look to Violet again.

"He had formed a refuge for bearers who had escaped their oppressors. And eventually brought form to the Cursebreakers. An organization whose intentions you might recognize. While not as extreme at first, it was always Cid's dream to destroy the Mothercrystals."