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!
Final Fantasy Adventu is a roleplaying forum inspired by the Final Fantasy series. Images on the site are edited by KUPO of FF:A with all source material belonging to their respective artists (i.e. Square Enix, Pixiv Fantasia, etc). The board lyrics are from the Final Fantasy song "Otherworld" composed by Nobuo Uematsu and arranged by The Black Mages II.
The current skin was made by Pharaoh Leap of Pixel Perfect. Outside of that, individual posts and characters belong to their creators, and we claim no ownership to what which is not ours. Thank you for stopping by.
Some part of Kuja knew that. It chimed in the back of his head -- dull and sluggish and ineffectual. He knew in some way that he’d already lost what he’d come for, but those thoughts were stilled at Genesis’ touch. Kuja glanced at where Genesis’ skin met his, his head spinning with poetry, and he felt a pull of longing somehow more desperate than before. This was no longer about simple hedonism, but something more. Something almost painful. Kuja magicked his money pouch from its pocket, counted out the gil, and left it on the table.
”If that’s the case, then allow me.” He flashed Genesis a smile and slid once again from the booth. The vinyl stuck to his thighs where his skirt didn’t follow, and he grimaced his displeasure. How long had they been talking? He’d lost track of the time.
The wind hit him like a splash of arctic water. For a moment, he just stood there, stunned, as he blinked into falling snow. Then he shook his head, thrust his hair back, and started down the sidewalk. He wrapped his arms around himself and stifled a shudder.
The wind might have been sharp, but it cleared his head at least. He took several deep breaths in succession and then looked up to the sky. The silver moon hung high overhead. The sky nearly swallowed it -- a single ephemeral light alone in a sea of nothing. Kuja walked without looking away.
”There were two moons where I left -- one red and one blue. Two souls locked in clashing duality.” His boots clicked on hard pavement only slightly dampened by the snow. His breath rose in slow vapors. ”I hated them. Or one of them at least. It felt overbearing. And that blue light…” Kuja grimaced. ”But the sky feels cold without it. A single moon drained of color. I can’t get used to it.”
A chill ran up his spine. The wine had weakened his resistances or maybe he just allowed himself to feel the cold now. His body wouldn’t be damaged, but it wasn’t comfortable either. He drew his arms tighter around himself before glancing at Genesis.
The man was a burst of color beside him. Crimson, auburn, striking blue. Kuja wondered suddenly how warm it would feel to draw up beside him. It wouldn’t last forever -- Kuja wasn’t some lovestruck idiot -- but it felt right for now. His body longed for something more than pure function.
”I can’t remember the last time I connected so well with anyone.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. That damned wine. He grimaced and touched at his forehead. ”I mean I’ve rather enjoyed this. I think I needed a night away.”
The snow blew between them, cold and quiet. He shivered. ”What did you say about the wind across the water?”
This land was a place of pure rot. Offensive. Kuja had caught sight of it from above, but the distance did it no justice. With his dragon out scavenging somewhere less obtrusive, Kuja took it upon himself to search the ruined town, and it wasn’t long before he regretted it. Kuja eyed the outer defenses distastefully. The guards’ stations were abandoned now, but before they went, some idiot had thought to mount some of the corpses on pikes. They’d bloated in the wet heat, and low and behold, had burst with fluid and putrid entrails.
Whatever had wrought destruction here had taken days, not hours. It was a complete hack job.
The timing felt almost like fate. As soon as he’d discovered his true self, as soon as he’d languished and pitied and eventually grabbed the mage and thought to do away with it, he’d been overtaken with a vision -- or rather, a voice.
It staggered him, booming and rough and oh so familiar. He stumbled and clutched the edge of the sink in their rented desert room as violent red burst across his eyes. ’Now, the Lich awakens. Protect him as his powers grow, and you will receive great power.’ His mind was seized with a single image -- skeletal and blackened -- before he collapsed, gasping over cold porcelain.
Something had invaded his mind. His fingers curled, white-knuckled, around the counter’s edge. He knew the feeling well. Something sought to string him like a puppet. Something harsh and powerful and-
Demonic. An image flickered at the edge of his subconscious. Crimson horns curled like a bull’s. A jagged mouth bulging with carnivorous teeth. Black leather wings on reptilian scales. Kuja clutched at his forehead, nails digging sharp into hair damp with sweat. He refused to play anyone’s pawn, not now and not ever again. Whatever dared try would fall by his hand. Perhaps by the very power it promised.
From the other room, a piping voice made his jaw clench. He’d straightened before the mage could discover him, slipping into his mask even as his fingers trembled. The mage had heard something different -- a woman’s voice asking for protection. Kuja’s lips had pursed as he’d drifted towards the window, arms crossed. Whatever had happened, it was important. Important enough to gather the strong like pieces on a chess board. And it all had to do with that Lich.
The Terran Guardian of Earth? The connection felt tenuous at best, yet it was all he had when asked to ponder it all. He would see it for himself -- this Lich, this power, this puppeteer -- and he would decide then how to end it. If only the stage had proved less hideous.
Kuja scowled and quick-stepped around two lurching undead forms before continuing on his way. The town was teeming with them. Honestly, Kuja wondered what had taken them so long, though he supposed they lacked the intelligence to navigate catacombs by anything but blind luck. Unlike the undead wolves he’d fended off ages ago, these zombies were slow and lurching with gnashing teeth and clumsy steps. It seemed odd that they’d ever have posed a threat to anyone with working legs, but perhaps their numbers had merely dispersed with time. They’d likely swarmed here if the heaping mounds of half-eaten corpses had anything to say for it.
The toppled buildings he couldn’t explain. Old magic perhaps? Or a far fiercer monster than anything he’d seen so far. The structures were ruined and half standing with wooden beams splintered down the middle and discarded stone pulverized in ashy piles. He passed what appeared to have once been a library now caved in, the shelves standing through the rubble like creaking islands. Kuja felt a tinge of grief at the sight of books torn apart and scattered, but moved on without reservation. Whatever had happened here wasn’t his problem.
The smell hit him like a miasma as he approached the temple, and he had to stop to recover as he reached its thickest borders. The stench extended far past his senses, rolling in his stomach and mind. This was a rot never meant to meet flesh, and he covered his lips as he forced his composure, taking shallow breath through his mouth.
He’d braved far more dismal ruins than this. Whatever secrets he found inside would far outweigh the effort of composing himself. He took a deeper breath, swallowed back his nausea, and started forward again. He’d have to ignore it if he was to keep his mind sharp.
Four figures stood at the the temple’s entrance. Kuja muffled a scowl at the sight of them. He’d hoped for the chance to search this place on his own, but it seemed he hadn’t been the only one with that idea. A woman dressed in the temple’s garb stood facing them, oddly calm given the situation. The others were such an eclectic group that he could only assume they too came from other worlds.
“Cruel are the Fates and their humor; to bring us here under these circumstances.” The man in armor spoke as though from some medieval play, but that only endeared him to Kuja in its own way. At least he wasn’t an idiot.
”Fate or the hand of something far more insidious.” Kuja laughed under his breath, stopping a few feet away from the others as he touched his lip and considered the temple before them. ”Odd, isn’t it? That so many would gather with the same purpose at the same time?” He glanced to the armored man. His expression reminded him vaguely of Beatrix. Kuja’s lips twitched in a smirk.
”I suppose I’ll lend my aid as well. Far be it from me to deny fate itself.” Kuja wondered how he managed to keep a straight face. Practice, he supposed. He turned his attention towards the temple’s guardian. ”Well? You hardly seem surprised. What, pray tell, might you expect from us?”
Genesis’ lips tightened. Kuja was right then. Despite everything, he’d somehow soured what should have been inevitable. Genesis said he was “welcome to try him,” but the thought could have made Kuja laugh. Try him with what? The sickening realization that Garland had known his intentions from the start? The utter ruin of everything he had ever worked for? His failure to justify his own existence?
”And alas, no. My victory wasn’t stolen by someone I hated, but by someone who didn’t matter to me in the slightest.”
Kuja hesitated before raising his eyes. Genesis’ smile had bittered as he considered some insignificant no one with an unbreakable spirit and a sword. A hero to the end. Kuja gave him an odd look. Well, that was something else they had in common then. A general sense of disdain for heroics.
“Not exactly first date talk though, is it?”
Kuja opened his mouth, closed it, and then laughed. It was so pointed and obvious that he couldn’t help it. How hard had the wine really hit him? This wasn’t like him at all.
”No. Nor any date’s talk if I had my way.” His lips twitched into a smirk. ”It must be the wine. Or maybe the thoughts that led me to it.” He laughed under his breath again before tilting his head and meeting Genesis’ gaze.
”I’ll cut through the pretenses if you don’t mind. I find you beautiful, and your passion for poetry even more so.” Kuja sat forward with an almost challenging smile. ”I’ll call for the check. What comes next I’ll leave up to you, though I know how I’d like the evening to end.” He pushed back a handful of hair from his eyes. Had it smeared his makeup? He hoped not.
"I have a room not far from here. If you'd care to follow."
There was that quote again -- the one that Kuja had already taken to most. ’My soul, corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment to find the end of the journey in my own salvation and your eternal slumber.’ What a beautiful line. Kuja sipped his wine (how many glasses was this now?) and played through the stanza with an almost luxurious fascination. His soul, corrupted by vengeance. Tormented day after day to find salvation and end his creator. The lines were so simple, and yet carried with them a beauty that permeated his very blood. In that moment, the message and the messenger intertwined, and Genesis’ eyes reflected back at him as their persona. Vengeance, salvation, the drive to achieve it. They carried a human face now -- a face angled in auburn hair.
The moment of triumph. Kuja laughed softly, letting his finger drift across the table in lazy circles. It had been wonderful. The queen’s own pet turned against her. The flare of pure magic casting it her way. Her panic. The creak of shattered, splintering wood. And then -- Alexander.
His stomach twisted. No, that was not his moment of triumph. His master had stolen it away from him just as he always had. His lips pursed as his failure circled again and again in quiet rhythm.
Failure. He was always a failure. Even as he’d rendered the greatest empire on earth asunder, he was greeted by nothing but disdain. Nothing he did would ever be enough. Nothing-
”I tasted it only briefly before my downfall.”
Kuja glanced to him. Had he been brooding? He scowled and pushed a handful of hair behind his ear. That was not the face he wished to wear tonight. No, he’d come for pleasure, and here he was, wallowing in his own pity. Yet the words rose of their own will -- tainted and bitter.
”Is it better to taste triumph if it’s ultimately stolen away? ’My soul, corrupted by vengeance....’” He seized his wine glass and took a long swallow. His head was heavy with it. ”Was it another who stole it? Someone you would give anything to bring to ruin? I plotted for years, played their games, brought myself the highest peak, and then…”
He cut himself off. He’d said too much. Kuja glanced to Genesis in surprise before taking his glass and leaning back moodily against the cool vinyl of the booth. Well, there went any chance of alluring the man further. Kuja sipped his wine, his pauldrons pressed forward so his back sank against them. He might as well ask for the check before Genesis could press any further.
Kuja could tell in an instant that he’d spoken well. The wordplay had been nothing but his own playful musing, but it seemed the man’s adoration for poetry was as fanatical as it was sincere. Kuja’s lips twitched at the man’s passion, at the adoration in his gaze that had nothing to do with Kuja’s physical beauty. It was a welcome sight, and one that he’d dare say he deserved after the dismal month he’d suffered.
Kuja drained the last of his wine. His own seductive power was intoxicating.
As was the conversation. Kuja’s eyes flicked to Genesis. ’A festering pool of excess?’ Realization lit within him -- passionate and sharp. Kuja knew well that such hot disdain never satisfied itself with inactivity. No, Genesis had made his own attempts at toppling the institution he so hated. Something fluttered inside him.
His warming blood had nothing to do with the wine.
”The queen?” Laughter rose to his lips, light and chiming. ”It would be fallacious to call it a match at all. No, while she thought herself a player, she was truly nothing but a pawn.” Kuja raised a head at the waitress as she drifted over. He ordered a glass of the same, meeting her eye with a smile. Once she’d scurried away, he turned his attention to Genesis once more.
”’A festering pool of excess and greed.’” Kuja circled his finger across the table, touching his sharpened nail at its edges. ”It was like poetry. A gluttonous women struck by the hands of hubris and her own greed. A nobility so complacent in their power that they failed to recognize that it could ever be threatened. One could say that they ’got what they deserved.’”
Kuja looked closely into Genesis’ eyes, as vivid as the planet’s light. He smiled knowingly. ”And what of you? Could you find beauty in it?”
”Corporations.” Kuja blinked slowly at him without comprehension. He could assume that an ’energy company’ had something to do with engines, but their supposed form of non-government meant nothing to him. His own ignorance bristled at the base of his tail, and he hid his lips behind his wine glass to keep his expression from souring. Ignorance was only a failing for the complacent. A failing best corrected.
”I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Kuja replaced his glass on the table. His tail twitched. ”My background doesn’t give much framework for it. But I’d be fascinated to learn more -- as dismal as it sounds.”
He raised his eye to the hanging lamp above them shaded in dim orange glass. The city he could imagine at least -- millions of people all stacked on top of each other and scrambling for resources long depleted. The deathly atmosphere, the shades of gray smog, the utter waste inflicted upon a planet that had once breathed. He’d seen the images reflected back to him in Terran archives. Genesis likely came from planet in a similar dying state. Kuja wondered how long it would last.
”As a matter of fact, I find the complexities of politics quite riveting. I climbed the ranks of political intrigue myself after all.” He smiled in a way that held far more satisfaction than he’d meant it to. Oh yes, he’d climbed it in time and then sent it all crashing down. He’d only needed wealth and a smile to wrap the queen around his finger.
”It’s like a game of chess.” He felt his eyes burn as brightly as the spark he weaved about his hand. ”Deception, plotting. Every move must be planned at least five moves ahead. The royal court is a den of snakes. One must slither carefully to avoid their fangs.”
He shook the magic from his hand. The other nobles had done nothing but hiss and rear their heads at him. They'd grown complacent on their own birth right and had never once been forced to defend it. How they’d sneered at him and his new money and youth. They’d called him many things whispered just loudly enough to hear -- a cheat, a eunuch, a whore. All of it nothing but hissing.
And in the end, he’d been the one laughing loudest.
”I find monarchs quite dull as a matter of fact. They’re born to their power -- deserving or not -- and the masses will defend it to the death. No matter how incompetent or witless or cruel, they deserve their birthright by matter of blood alone. It’s inane.”
Kuja cast his gaze to Genesis again. ”I believe that strength is found in the self, and that power belongs to those who seek it thus. And take it to the sky.” Kuja smirked and lifted his glass again. ”And you? You seem quite distasteful of your ruling class.”
Genesis really was beautiful. Immersed in the dim half-shadows, his eyes stood out even more -- piercing in a strange green-blue. Kuja tilted his cheek into his palm as he watched them. His mascara framed them perfectly.
A woman with wiry hair approached before Genesis could answer. Genesis spoke confidently, pointing at a wine from the list and requesting it by name. Kuja smiled at her and tilted his head further into his hand. ”I’m not quite familiar with these wines, I’m afraid. Might I ask for a suggestion? I’m partial to reds, bittersweet.” She answered, and he laughed quietly. ”How generous. I’ll trust in your refined taste.” Her cheeks warmed as she scribbled down his order and then quickly left. Kuja’s smile sharpened into a smirk.
”Now where were we?”
Genesis told him about his time as a soldier. How he’d been the product of a hideous, industrialized city such as this. Kuja scowled at the mention of it, already distasteful. At the very least, Genesis seemed to find some poetic meaning to it, and Kuja laughed under his breath. Flying away to a world that abhorred him? He quite knew the feeling.
The waitress returned and set their glasses in front of them. Kuja smiled at her and took his in one hand, meeting her eye as he brought it to his lips. She opened her mouth, closed it, and scurried away. It was so easy to wrap women such as her around his finger. And men too, he supposed.
”Titles? Oh yes. I’m a man of many talents.” Kuja set an elbow on the table and leaned his cheek into a palm. ”I started in my world alone. No money. No standing. My first work was in charms. Magical armor, weapons, accessories, and the like. I’ve always had a particular fondness for magic.” He raised his free hand and brought a few sparks to it. He gathered them there and strung them through his fingers until they danced in glittering streams.
”I made my first fortune as an engineer. My home world.” He gave a bitter smirk. ”Is nothing like this. The steam engine was the newest marvel if you could believe it.” He gave a short laugh, watching his hand and the lights that still played across it. ”I dealt in weapons mostly. They were refined enough to garner a personal partnership with the local auction house, and eventually the wealth to buy my way into the nobility. From there, I propositioned the queen, and she became my patron. She was always rather fond of me.”
He touched at his lips and laughed quietly, shoulders shaking. ”Such a hideous woman. I swear, she had the figure of an elephant.” He smiled wryly and straightened, sipping at his wine. It was just as he’d requested -- bittersweet.
”I suppose our worlds weren’t so different, really. Industrialized versus industrializing and both slaves to war. I’m amazed anything of value could come of it. But poetry is universal.” Kuja took a long sip from his wine. ”You must be more at home here than I am. I’ll admit, this city is as unfamiliar to me as it is dismal.”
It haunted him as he perched on hard stone, one knee folded to his chest. Ava curled around him like a cat, supporting his back with a feathered wing. He leaned into the soft down, hand at his cheek as he considered the skylight of her den. Beyond it there was heat and sunlight. The kind of wonders that had once set a passion in his heart. And yet…
Kuja touched at his forehead. His thoughts had consumed him for nearly two weeks. Already they’d cost him the loyalty of Nero, and perhaps even turned the man against him. Already, his research had fallen to dust and neglect. And here he was, wasting away. He let his head fall until his cheek pressed into feather down.
It all came back to Zidane.
Somehow he knew that Zidane was here. Perhaps it was a psychic connection or perhaps mere intuition, but somehow, Kuja knew. It was in the boy’s nature, wasn’t it? Persisting long after his relevance. Following him without any idea of the implications. That moment in Burmecia played like an omen in dismal blue. Zidane, daggers clenched and tail swishing. Zidane, sprawled nearly lifeless on carved stone. Kuja had considered him with nothing but amusement and light disdain. Zidane had been nothing. Not even strong enough to defeat General Beatrix. Certainly not strong enough to threaten the lives of the planet. And so Kuja had left him. To play with. To use.
And that decision had led him to his revenge.
Kuja’s tail swept an uneasy pattern across the stone. He hadn’t bothered to dress himself properly since the day Vivi had enlightened him of his past. He found he didn’t quite care for his usual persona -- for his angled eyes and enigmatic armor. He wasn’t mysterious or conniving or elegant now. No, he was nothing but human so to speak. Nothing but another lost soul trapped in a body that was all too mortal. Would he face that fate again in time? Would his own flesh betray him just as it had for his mages?
The irony hadn’t escaped him.
He laughed into Ava’s feathers, shoved his eyes even further into them until his breath suffocated in the scent of high winds and dragon musk. That mage had left cake by his door days before. It must have found the supplies in his pantry and baked it himself. Kuja had tossed it aside, unable to look at the hideous thing. Even now it called bile to his throat.
How could he face Zidane now? What would he even say to him? My apologies for the ruination of your adopted world. Care to talk over tea? It was ludicrous. Mortifying. Unthinkable. Would he even want him there? Or would they fight again just like they always had and had always been destined to do?
Kuja sighed and leaned forward over his knee. His thoughts were the same as ever. The same internal soliloquy played again and again like an actor practicing his lines. Lines of torment and strife. The kind that would warrant a scene of their own. And still he sat motionless, accompanied by nothing but the slow, peaceful breaths of his sleeping dragon. She slumbered in peace -- blameless in her own nature.
His tail curled around his ankles. There was nothing else.
I had to grab my Shakespeare anthology for this I hope you realize
Why should the world exist without me?
The walk was pleasant enough. Nothing banal but nothing particularly of interest either. They walked together down the snowy streets, two pairs of footsteps playing through loose snow. Kuja considered the glaring streetlights, the rush of automobiles rolling past, the muffled music that came from an indistinguishable direction. This was, truly, a different world. He felt strangely lost in it.
”Tell me about Lord Avon.”
Kuja blinked at the request, turning to look at him in surprise. On Gaia, anyone who thought to discuss his work was already intimately familiar with it. Had anyone ever requested that he explain it before? If so, Kuja couldn’t remember.
”My passions…” Kuja touched at his lip. He could still remember that initial spark. Back when he’d been allowed only limited time on Gaia’s surface, and he’d spent the rest of it buried in books. ”The imagery,” he said. ”It’s distinctly vivid. His poems carry an emotional weight through metaphor alone. It presents sentimentality without losing itself to melodrama. It explores the depths of humanity without losing its wit. Even in his most trivial of comedies, the wordplay alone carries it to brilliance. I’ve always found his villains as tragic as they are relatable. Driven by vengeance or desire or the want of independence.”
Kuja looked to the sky. ”Thou, nature, art my goddess. To thy law my services are bound. Why should I stand in the plague of custom, and permit the trappings of nations to deprive me for that I lack the fortunes of fate? By my own hand, my strength renewed.” Kuja raised a hand and considered it framed against the stars. ”His has never been the highest of arts, but it still speaks true.”
Genesis led them to a hotel that Kuja couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at. It was certainly refined in its own industrial way. The surfaces inside gleamed as brightly as the metal and glass. The music was soft and atmospheric. The air smelled heavily of lavender. For a moment, Kuja wondered if Genesis had decided to skip drinks altogether and get straight to the point, but the thought had hardly crossed his mind before Genesis directed him through a side door.
As it turned out, Genesis had brought him to a kind of cocktail lounge. The lighting here dimmed instantly, now more akin to candles and flame. The room had a certain warmth to it, and an intimacy that thickened in a quiet simmer. Kuja smirked faintly, barely laughing under his breath. ”Consider me impressed.” He tossed a smile to Genesis over his shoulder before starting towards a secluded booth. The fake leather slid unpleasantly beneath him, sticking to the corners of his armor, but he said nothing of it. As unnatural as it was, that seemed to be the way of this city.
Kuja touched at the plastic bound list before them, glancing through a host of wine names he didn’t recognize before giving up entirely. Instead, he leaned forward and watched Genesis more closely. ”I must say, you interest me. You carry a certain duality with you -- both brash and elegant. A warrior poet, I suppose.” Kuja leaned his cheek into the palm of his hand. ”I’d like to learn more of your nature. If you’d indulge me.”
The snow drifted down from an obscured sky. Kuja tilted his head back and watched the flakes catch in his hair and eyelashes. The moon was a single, clouded silver. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. The bitter air rattled in his lungs.
What was he doing here? The thought came again, though less defined this time. What was he doing in this city? On this planet? The question reverberated over the ambient stuttering of engines, over the glare of artificial light, over the hard touch of asphalt under his boots. His nose revolted against the heavy smell of exhaust.
Industrialization, he thought wryly. A parasitic relationship with the planet’s cycle. He knew of it only in theories and records of Terra’s distant past. How long had he mocked the Gaians for their primitive technology? For their farcical understandings of science? If he were to return at that moment, he would have praised the entire, simplistic race. As it turned out, idiocy was far preferable to waste.
He’d nearly forgotten about Genesis by the time that distinctive flash of red leather approached him. Kuja tilted his head to appraise him. Genesis smiled at him in a way that seemed more pleasant than interested before he paused, removing his coat and offering it to him.
Kuja blinked his confusion before he noticed the man’s eyes on his bare flesh. ”Ah,” he said and then laughed behind his hand. ”Much appreciated, but I haven’t a need for it. I have a certain resistance to the elements. Magic is such a versatile thing.” He smirked and brought a flicker of fire to his fingertips. He extinguished it in a touch and turned to consider the man.
It really had been a generous offer.
”I’d prefer somewhere quiet and refined, but those are hard to come by even in the best of circumstances and even harder to afford when left wandering a plane that isn’t one’s own. I’ll defer to your judgment. I haven’t spent much time in this city. Perhaps with good reason.” He smirked to himself, tilting his head towards Genesis again. ”But what is that gift, I wonder? Simply one’s life? Or something far less tangible?”
For the second time that night, Kuja let himself drift past Genesis, brushing his finger along the back of his hand. ”For now, I suppose my desire is desire itself. I’ve often thought pleasure to be something largely unappreciated. I relish my indulgences. They are, after all, a gift.” He glanced over his shoulder with the flicker of a smile.
”But I digress. If you lead, I will follow. What are your desires, I wonder?”
