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year 5, quarter 3
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Nero blushed at the interest. Kuja wondered why -- whether it was the attention or the way their eyes met. If it was the former, then Kuja needed only focus on flattery, but it likely wasn't. Not from the way that Nero kept seeking his gaze. Not from the nervous hunger in his eyes or how they would occasionally sweep over him as though in longing. Kuja could only smile back, mysterious and unreadable as ever. It was a smile that could have promised anything or nothing at all. And he had perfected it.
“I -- I couldn’t ask you to do any more for me. Really,” the man stuttered. “But I -- if you truly wish to know about this power of mine, I will tell you everything I can.”
Kuja's smile widened. "That would be lovely."
'You just love playing into my hands, don't you?'
And he did. The man spoke of mysterious power. Of surviving some experiment to hone soldiers from the energy of the planet. Kuja couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. Familiar. The man told him of something called the "Lifestream," a force of the planet that acted in an endless loop.
The Cycle of Souls.
It seemed odd that someone like Nero would know of it, but it could hardly be anything else. A force of the planet from which everything is born and to which everything returns? The source of life and magic? No matter what it called itself, Kuja knew the Cycle too well to not catch the reference. Nero's creators had attempted to harness the power of life itself.
So familiar.
Nero told him more of the Cycle. How it would filter itself naturally ('At least so long as there's not a soul divider,' Kuja added silently), and how its pure energy would collect in pools. Kuja listened and politely pretended as though this was all new information. There was one detail that did strike his curiosity at least. Nero’s people had learned to harness the planet’s power to create super soldiers. Or so he’d called them.
Biological enhancement. It was an archaic step towards the work of Terra and the creation of vessels, but it was a step all the same. Kuja’s eyes traveled from Nero’s thoughtful expression to the magic dripping and dissipating between his fingers. Its ephemeral path was almost mesmerizing.
“Stagnant mako was injected into my mother’s womb shortly after I was conceived. She was the only woman out of many to carry to term, and moments after giving birth, the darkness swallowed her.”
“Hm,” Kuja said, realizing too late that he’d sounded disinterested. What was the proper reaction to learning of a dead mother? Some kind of apology he assumed? He couldn’t summon the will to care.
No one knew the source of Nero’s magic -- just that it had something to do with a fetal injection of “stagnant mako,” as he’d called it. More accurately, it was the byproducts of the Cycle, similar to Mist. Yet Mist had never dripped in black droplets through a man’s fingers. Kuja eyed it with a mixture of interest and distrust.
The darkness, Nero said, was constantly seeking an escape “out of this vessel.” Ironic, Kuja thought, as that was most certainly the opposite of a vessel’s function. It was the opposite behavior exhibited in Mist and souls as well, though he supposed that contamination might have had something to do with that. Perhaps it sought to naturally rejoin the Cycle and cleanse itself. Regardless, Kuja felt little sympathy for the man before him. He imagined struggling to contain an extra consciousness to be far less invasive than struggling to keep several thousand out.
‘Except that I didn’t.’
The thought came as fleeting and undesired as all the rest as of late. A strange, cryptic little whisper at the edge of his subconscious. He ignored it as he always did. There was no use provoking his own malformed memories.
Kuja had imagined many answers to his question. He’d thought that Nero would tell him of some tragic accident at best or a miserable tale of abuse at worst. He’d prepared himself for sniveling confessions and the kind of self-indulgent drivel spouted by the weak. However, Nero did something then that Kuja had not often experienced, and had no idea how to handle.
Nero was brutally, self-deprecatingly honest.
“I have an admittedly completely broken mind and spirit from years of abuse, murder, experiments, and what-have-you.” The man said it almost casually. Sadly, yes, but so bluntly that Kuja could only blink at him, uncertain of what he’d heard let alone how to react. “My handlers never wanted me confident,” he said, and again, Kuja could do nothing but stare.
His handlers? He spoke of himself like a dog or some monstrous creature that lurked in the shadows. He spoke of abuse and murder and experiments as though they were as mundane as an unpleasant conversation.
How could he be so honest? So dismissive of himself? Kuja’s blood burned with something he couldn’t identify. A sparking, lurching something that made his fingers twitch with magic. The man was weak, and not in the way he’d heard from that idiot boy in the woods sobbing about how he’d been denied the luxury of the sun. That boy had lacked self-awareness. He’d pitied himself and that was something that Kuja couldn’t forgive, but Nero…
Nero…didn’t. And that was somehow far worse.
The man froze. His cheeks flared red. He looked to Kuja with widened, shameful eyes as though he expected Kuja to strike him. As though he wouldn’t mind if he did. “I’m so sorry. I’ve rambled far, far too much,” he said, the words tumbling over themselves. Kuja’s lips tightened.
‘Weak.’ No matter what his power or his strength, the man was weak. Apologizing like a whining pet. Ready to throw himself at another’s feet in exchange for the smallest kindness. This world only rewarded the strong. Nero deserved everything that had come to him and more.
“Please, don’t apologize. It’s hardly a problem. You sound as though you have been through quite the ordeal.” Kuja sighed to mask his own scowl. His fingers curled as he ran them thoughtfully through his hair.
‘Kill him.’
“To tell the truth, I think I understand.”
‘Kill him.’
“You see, I was also the product of genetic engineering.”
‘Kill him.’
Kuja winced at the taste of those words. He slid his hand over his eyes. His nails dug sharp into his temples as his mouth contorted and he tasted blood. Treat it like a lie. It would have been the best lie he’d ever told. Guaranteed to garner sympathy. Guaranteed to pull the man further under his thumb. It had to be a lie if he'd used that tone -- so kind and innocent and concerned. He only spoke that way with lies and vicious half-truths so distorted that he might have been a character in a play. Speak like an actor -- like you always have.
And don’t strike him. Kuja didn’t need the fight.
“My apologies.” The words came darker than he’d meant them. He allowed himself a long breath. He took a moment to focus on his rising heartbeat and the sweat coating his palms. When he exhaled, he released with it the hot pounding of his blood and the spinning nausea collecting in his stomach. Breathe. If you can’t handle this then you’re no better than-
His tail lashed violently. He grit his teeth and hated it silently.
Breathe. Breathe. There’s no need for murder.
“Would you like to have a look around? I’m afraid you caught me ill-disposed, but I would be more than happy to meet with you later.” Kuja forced a smile that had always come naturally to him. He doubted it reached his eyes.
“I would advise you only to avoid the deeper tunnels. I’ve trapped them to avoid monsters and unwanted intrusions. And should my dragon return, you would do best to keep your distance. She will attack unless you’ve been properly introduced.”
He flipped his hair over his shoulder, pushing a handful of it behind his ear. His fingers twitched. He needed to leave. “I’ll arrange a meeting with her at a later time. Perhaps even a ride if you’d like.”
Yes. Anything. Just let me leave, you pathetic, unsettling excuse for a-
So the inevitable has finally occurred. I got yelled at for writing on here while at work. Everything's fine (except for my reputation, I suppose), but I will refrain from getting on while at work from now on.
So this isn't really a Leave of Absence as much as it is an announcement that I'll probably be slowing down soon and I might be harder to contact. If you need me, I'll probably be on Skype sometime between 6pm and 12pm on most days.
The man relented. After all of Kuja's gentle smiles and sweet nothings, this man -- Nero -- had practically subjugated himself. What else could Kuja call it when the man's eyes beamed with pleasure and he called the process an honor? It felt easy -- far too easy, and Kuja couldn't help a prickle of unease at the back of his neck. Nero reminded him less of a fly struggling in a spider's web and more of a dog patiently awaiting its leash. Kuja masked a scowl behind the back of his hand.
The impulse came silent and sharp. He wanted to break this man -- to revel in his own power and watch that admiration shatter from his eyes. It would be easy when the man's defenses were so low. Just a whisper of magic, a swipe of his hand, and this puppet would fall. But that would get him nowhere. Kuja took a long, steadying breath.
He needed pawns if he was to play this game any longer. Powerful pawns that were easily manipulated. He only needed a little patience.
Thankfully, Nero had pulled away from him. He looked vaguely distressed by something, but Kuja hardly cared what. So long as his strange magic remained sheathed, the man's mood could swing all it wanted.
“Perhaps, before this goes any further,” the man muttered, "I should-," and then cut off abruptly. Kuja raised an eyebrow.
"Should?" he repeated. The man's breath trembled as he steadied himself. He swallowed before continuing.
“Speak of my strange power, a bit. You alluded to it a moment ago, and I made a terrible impression of it, and myself, when we first met.”
Well Kuja could hardly argue that, though in the man's defense, Kuja would have killed him if the magic hadn't caught his eye. Kuja recrossed his arms, head tilted and eyes sharp with expectation. 'Yes, if you wouldn't mind explaining yourself, perhaps we can cut this farce short.'
Rather than answer, however, Nero took several steps back. For a moment, Kuja was uncertain what he was doing or if it had any sense at all, but then the man raised a hand. There was an ominous chill, a prick of some grim energy, and then the shadows returned, oozing from Nero's skin like something alive. The darkness wrapped itself around him in creeping tendrils, folding and stretching about his wrist. It gathered in his palm and then floated there weightlessly. Kuja's eyes flicked cautiously from the orb to the eyes of the man who held it.
For once, Nero's gaze didn't waver. “I refer to it more as a curse than magic. This darkness, I am naught but its vessel and caretaker. It can be difficult to maintain full control of, as it consistently seeks to absorb everything.”
Kuja opened his mouth to respond and then closed it. He touched at his bottom lip uncertainly. A creeping darkness that hungered to spread. That was...slightly more than he'd bargained for.
Could he keep this wild man under his control? Was it worth the risk to even try?
The answer was, of course, yes so long as he played his hand well, but it was worrisome all the same. His eyebrows furrowed their concern. Why did this man have to keep complicating the game?
Nero, at least, looked relieved at the secret he'd shared. “It will never touch you, but I will still maintain my distance," he said. "For my own sake.”
'Wonderful. Just don't bother me and we'll get along perfectly.'
Nero's magic dissipated, and with it fled the last of the man's confidence. He crossed his arms again, though it felt more like an act of self-comfort than anything else. His nails scratched nervously at his wrists. His grip was tight around his chest, almost as though held there by a straight jacket. Still, his voice held a bitter kind of humor as he spoke. “You called yourself a sorcerer,” he said with a tilt of his head. “You may very well be more acquainted with this power than I am.”
Kuja couldn't help the smirk that touched at his lips. In all honesty, he knew nothing of that living, hungering power, and yet, the man was almost certainly right. His wild guesses were likely far more accurate than anything this dim-witted, feral man could have dreamed of. Kuja took a steadying breath and raised his eyes thoughtfully to the ceiling. Theories spun through his mind like silk.
"Perhaps. I must admit, I've never seen anything like that power before, but it's not completely unfamiliar. There are certain spells that drain away health and life. There are others that suck the victim into alternate dimensions entirely. The eidolon Atomos for instance..." Kuja paused. That was far too specific for this man's needs. He doubted that he'd appreciate the extra detail anyway.
"Regardless. Your power isn't completely without precedent, though its manifestation is certainly unusual." Kuja's smirk widened. Unusual was too kind a word for it. "Bizarre" or "Terrifying" might have been more apt, but insulting the man would get him nowhere. He kept his voice soft and his words even softer.
"Is there anything that I could do to help? You seemed concerned about maintaining...control." The word carried a sharpness to it that slipped past Kuja's careful facade. It had taken Kuja years to master his own magic, and the thought of it running wild sickened him. It had been the same way with Zidane, wielding magic like a sledgehammer -- inept and clumsy. Kuja felt his tail bristle with disdain.
At least Nero's magic wasn't Terran.
"If you wouldn't mind, I could try studying it for you. Perhaps there's another way to keep it in check, or at the very least I could offer you answers." Kuja tilted his head, eyes bright interest. "Were you born with it or...?" He let the question trail off without a proper alternative. Or was it a mage's curse? A genetic alteration, perhaps? Kuja paused and then blinked in mock surprise. "My apologies. I'm being too forward, aren't I?"
He gave a short sigh, shaking his head regretfully. "Pardon my curiosity. I merely find you...interesting." His eyes flitted to Nero's. Simmering red on placid Terran blue. "I'd like to learn more about you," he said and then offered the man the softest of smiles.
If previous experience told him anything, the man would sing like a canary.
It became quickly apparent that Kuja had no need for such caution. Whatever had put fear into the man before was gone now. No, now his eyes were bright -- almost eager -- as he looked to Kuja with something akin to excitement.
Was that...Was that admiration?
At the request of his name, the man glanced away sheepishly. His hands twisted together in anxious thought, and Kuja couldn't help but wonder what on earth could have prompted such anxiety. He'd asked nothing but simple questions, or so he'd thought anyway. A name. An occupation. Why he'd barged into his secret oasis. And yet the man hesitated. Kuja half-expected the man to tell him he had no name like that ridiculous Warrior when the stranger suddenly straightened and met his eye.
He slid one hand over his chest and the other behind his back in a rigid and unfamiliar salute. Kuja raised an eyebrow. He had certainly never been greeted like that before, though he wasn't unfamiliar to it. It was the mark of a soldier, though Kuja hadn't the faintest idea why the man thought it appropriate now. Was it so ingrained in him that he knew nothing else? At least it came with the offering of a name and a confirmation that Kuja hardly needed.
"My name is Nero. I am … Well, I suppose I am still a soldier, of sorts.”
'Really,' Kuja mused behind a faint smirk. 'And here I thought you were saluting me for the fun of it.'
"A soldier. How interesting," he said instead.
It wasn't, of course, except as another means to understand this strange man. Nero, he'd called himself. The name brought to mind murder, tyrants, and insanity -- though that could only be a coincidence. The salute had told him far more about Nero than his words. The man knew nothing outside the military, or at the very least, he pretended to know nothing. Kuja had always loathed that kind of lockstep obedience, but he supposed it had its uses. Manipulation, for instance.
The man turned away, rocking back on his heels nervously as he looked upon the atrium. Kuja tilted his head in mild interest. The man's hands twisted together in an uneasy rhythm.
Nero told him that he'd come to the desert in search of a rumor. The nasty rumors of Torensten, it seemed. 'A powerful man, with silvery white hair, who unleashed dragons.' Kuja almost laughed at his own title. How little public perception could change! It was Gaia all over again -- a mysterious man on the back of a dragon. That was his way, he supposed. Always stealing attention and always shrouded equal parts in mystery and power. He paused to examine the chipping lacquer of his nails, a self-assured smirk creeping upon his lips.
The man, however, had no such self-assurances. He hardly met Kuja's eye as he fidgeted, arms tight around his chest and fingers digging into his jacket sleeves. “The rumors, they reminded me of my brother. I … foolishly wandered into the desert to find him. I was teleporting blindly when I fell through your ceiling.”
Kuja raised an eyebrow. "Teleporting?" he echoed. "Is that what you can do? That strange magic of yours?" He paused. Teleportation was a highly advanced art impossible to learn without complete mastery of the arcane. And yet, this man hadn't exactly given the impression of discipline. Kuja touched his lip thoughtfully. "I've managed teleportation myself, actually. I'd be fascinated to hear of your methods." Fascinated both for academic curiosity and for practical use. If the man could effortlessly teleport, then that could be worth something.
The man's attention snapped back to him. He stood at rapt attention, eyes wide, almost glistening with interest. It was the kind of look that nearly made Kuja recoil. There was intensity behind it and something else he couldn't quite identify. He didn't like it.
“Thank you." The words came in quick bursts accompanied by an eager bounce of his heel. “For everything you have done for me. Truly. Very few people in my lifetime have shown me such kindness.”
'Kindness?' Kuja felt his mouth open uncertainly. What kindness was he talking about? Saving his life? He supposed that would count, but-
Those eyes were on him again.
The man was beaming. Smiling. Bouncing like a child on his heel as he watched Kuja with such intense expectation that Kuja could only stare back at him, mouth agape at the sudden turn. No one had ever looked at him that way before. No one, but-
-Those bright blue eyes staring up at him -- watching him like they always did. He couldn't escape them. Those eyes, those scrambling legs, that idiot's smile, and all beneath a scrappy shroud of blonde.
'Kuja, can I come with you! Kuja, come on! Look at me, I'm-!'
Kuja's fist tightened. He hated those loathsome eyes.
“If there is any way I could repay your kindness,” Nero continued, watching him with that dim-witted adoration. “Please, tell me, Kuja. I will do anything.”
Kuja took a short breath. Every second spent with this man sent his tail bristling, but he prided himself on his control. If the man hadn't had something to offer him, he'd have taken pleasure in destroying that trust and watching the man's world shatter. But no. Nero had his magic. He was a soldier, which promised something of value. No matter how stupid, no matter how disconcerting, Kuja had little choice but to humor him. Not if he wished to make progress in his schemes, at any rate. And not while the Warrior was doubtlessly out for his blood.
And so he took the man's offer for what it was. A declaration of submission. The words twisted in his throat, but at least Kuja was on the proper side of it for once.
'Please, tell me. I will do anything.'
Those were the words of puppets and playthings begging for abuse. Kuja would have struck him across the cheek if he'd had less to lose and there hadn't been a dark humor to it all. He had never seen anyone so eager to place himself at another's mercy, and it sickened him.
"Well," Kuja said, and then paused thoughtfully. "If you don't mind, would you stay here for a time?" The words curdled on his tongue, but he didn't have a choice. His schemes were nowhere near fruition, and he hardly wished to waste an open favor on furthering his research. No, he would use it only when it came time to act, and for that, he would need to keep the man close. Assuming, of course, that Nero didn't object to the leash.
"I realize it is much to ask, but I'm in need of protection, you see." His eyebrows furrowed in worry as he bit lightly at the tip of his nail. "After that troublesome business in Torensten, there is a man who seeks my head. Several, perhaps, if he's been spreading lies." Kuja gave a delicate sigh. "You are by no means obligated, of course, but if you're lost and I'm fearful..." He glanced over to meet the man's eye. "It would make sense, I think."
Kuja straightened and lowered his hand, eyes wandering to the atrium as though in thought. "If you decline, I'm certain that I could think of some other task. I'd offer you transport back to town on my dragon. But really, I was hardly expecting payment at all." His eyes glittered with the lie as he took several steps forward. Kuja lifted his gaze to meet his, a smile playing at his lips.
"Well, what do you say? It would be a pleasure to have you, Nero."
Kuja's laying it on thick. That means he wants something and he's intimidated. =3
Why should the world exist without me?
The surgery took six hours. It wasn't that the work was particularly difficult -- he could have stabilized the man's condition in less than twenty minutes if he'd hurried -- but Kuja was a perfectionist. He took to even his unwilling work with pride, and could hardly stop himself once he'd laid out the half-dead mess on a table before him.
First came the matter of the man's "wings," if they could be called that. Kuja touched at them curiously, tracing where metal met skin and examining the robotic connectors that ran from base to tip. They were body enhancements -- of that he was certain -- controlled by neural input along the spinal cord. It was highly advanced technology, likely the work of his world's brightest minds, to give him some secondary set of limbs in combat. Some engineer must have slaved away for months crafting them, and the surgery could only have been the thing of scientific miracles.
Kuja removed them immediately. Half to gain better access to his body and half because the application was crude and the aesthetic was offensive. Upon opening the man's back, he found the connectors fused to nerves and muscle fibers as though by a welding torch. The work of amateurs, really, without basic knowledge of magic and only a half-wit's comprehension of anatomy. Kuja scowled his disgust and started the painstaking task of slicing apart flesh and reconnecting it with magic.
So passed the first four hours.
The rest he spent on basic medical care with obvious priority on the gaping holes boring into the man's spine. Once the muscle was all in place, Kuja wasted an hour trying to remove the godforsaken scar tissue where the wings had torn through skin. The wounds were too old. The flesh too traumatized. In the end, he compromised on practicality rather than aesthetic. The muscle fibers connected smoothly. The nerves fired fine. What did it matter that two ugly gorges remained as a hideous reminder of his defeat?
Kuja nearly set the scars on fire and left the whole project to burn with them.
He spent the last half hour curing the man's dehydration, heat stroke, and fatigue. It was simple work accomplished with only obvious insight and casual flicks of his hand. Once finished, he prepared a room for him deeper in the caverns and tossed him on a make-shift bed he'd thrown together out of spare cloth and travelers' silks. He left behind a plate of food and water as a show of hospitality, and then rifled through some spare clothes because he couldn't stand to look at that tacky blue-lit jumpsuit any longer. Once finished, he spun magic around the room's entrance to alert him should the man awaken and start wandering into Kuja's business. Then he left without another thought given.
His original work sat abandoned and forgotten where he'd left it on his crafting bench. Kuja returned to it with his mind derailed and his jaw set.
Beyond scheming and world-shifting plots, Kuja needed money. If he was to set up a proper base, he needed resources, and for that he needed paying work. It hadn't taken him long to slip back into his first craft -- the one that had granted him his fortune in Treno -- weapons-dealing. He would frequent the nearby towns on the back of his dragon, buying cheap weaponry and amulets to charm and then sell back. There was an endless market for daggers which could poison on first touch or pendants which could clear the mind of confusion. This particular piece, a pair of leather bracers, he'd pilfered off an unfortunate adventurer which had stumbled into his desert caverns.
Weak and not particularly useful, Kuja had killed him, stripped him of valuables, and fed the corpse to his dragon. The clothes he'd tossed aside for later deconstruction. Now they found use as an offering to the strange man who'd fallen through his ceiling. So long as he'd cleaned them of blood, he hardly saw a reason not to repurpose them until he could buy better replacements in town.
Kuja had only just finished work on the bracers when his neck prickled at a disturbance in his magic. He paused, hand still sparking with his spells, before he gave a sigh and set the armor aside. The man had gained consciousness faster than Kuja had expected, but he supposed that only spoke of his resiliency. He set off to meet the man with a wave and a smile.
And to stop him from stumbling into anything he shouldn't.
He found the man lurking uncertainly in the cavern's antechamber. Without those hideous wings and the accompanying jumpsuit, he looked a little better if Kuja lowered his standards and squinted from the shadows. He was still as thin as a corpse with hair as unfamiliar to conditioner as it was to a comb. His limbs looked unnatural on him, slipping through clothes two sizes too large. Kuja wondered what a haircut and a half-decent cardigan would do for him. Maybe he could even stand to look at him one day.
Maybe.
"...Hello?" The man must have sensed his presence because he called out to him now, glancing around uncertainly as though he expected an answer. Kuja let out a long breath before straightening and plastering on his most hospitable smile.
The situation was delicate. If Kuja wanted a chance at either the man's magic or his loyalties, he would have to approach every meeting with utmost patience.
"You're awake, I see," Kuja said as he stepped carefully from the shadows. He tilted his head in interest, eyes as gentle as his smile. "You're not in any pain, I hope? It took some time to stabilize you. If you hadn't stumbled upon my oasis-..." He paused as though the thought was too terrible for him to complete. Then he turned to meet the man's eye. "But that's in the past. Perhaps it's time for an introduction?"
Kuja took a step forward, waving one arm in a regal flip of his sleeve as he slid into a formal bow as easily as breathing. "Kuja. I'm a sorcerer by trade and, as you'd noted, a dragon tamer." He straightened and let his eyes fall on the man before him. He touched thoughtfully at his bottom lip. "And what of you?" he asked. "Tell me of yourself. Your name? Your work? How you came to fall through my ceiling?" He gave a soft, chiming laugh behind the back of his hand.
And new scene? Or thread? Or something. xD THis is kind of a mess.
Why should the world exist without me?
Kuja had made a grave mistake.
He didn't know what it was or why, but something he'd said had clearly been wrong. Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, the man could hardly stay still. His eyes filled with despair as he forced himself unsteadily to his feet. The man trembled as he moved -- perhaps from overexertion or perhaps from emotion, it was impossible to say. He looked to Kuja for a long time before bringing his hands to his head, gripping it tightly as though he were afraid it might burst. His teeth grit against his wet and shaking body as he turned away, eyes lowered and nearly whining.
“Then, I am afraid I’ve wasted time for us both,” he said, voice unsteady as though on the verge of tears. Kuja could only stare at him. He ran through their conversation, searching for anything he might have said to trigger this kind of episode, and yet he could find nothing. He'd told him of the dragons, but the man had already known that. He'd offered to help. He could think of no singular circumstance in which someone might react like this to his chosen words.
Not unless they were a complete and utter lunatic.
"Wasted...Time?" Kuja repeated only because it was unlikely to set him off further. The stranger's dark, oozing magic had returned, seeping from his feet like water. It stretched across the ground in creeping tendrils -- reaching, searching. Kuja eyed it cautiously, stepping away from the malice that tinged the air like static. His lips soured in disgust.
“He isn’t here!” The words came sudden and unrestrained, an animal noise that burst from him strangled and ragged. The man was stumbling blindly, tilting forward and back as his fingers twisted in his hair and his teeth grit against tears. Terrible noises came from his throat. Pained noises. Desperate noises. All the while, darkness followed him like a shadow, hungry and ready to feed. It grew with every passing second. Lashing. Probing. Raging.
Kuja watched it all in silence, eyes sharp like a startled cat ready to strike. The man was unstable and clearly dangerous. It would be insane to wait another second before confronting him, but it was equally insane to attack without need. He had no idea what that magic could do, and that mystery proved the most dangerous of all. He couldn't prepare for the unknown, and so he stayed his hand.
Even as his magic burned with caution.
The man stopped. His hands fell from his head. The darkness folded back into him in waves. Then he fell. The darkness enveloped him. And he was gone.
Kuja stared at the point where he had disappeared.
Had he just died?
Kuja barely had time to think of what he would do with the rogue magic before it was moving. It crawled along the ground, tendrils flailing like some kind of corrupted crustacean before coming to a stop by the water. Kuja tensed at its movements (Did it intend to taint his water supply?) but scarcely had time to mutter a spell before the darkness dissipated once more. It fell away in layers like fog in the morning sun. In its grasp was a human figure with hideous, ragged wings. It reached into the water, touched weakly at its face, and then collapsed forward onto hard stone.
The strange magic fell away, leaving only the man. Visible. Exposed. Half-conscious.
Kuja's magic tempted murder at his fingertips.
“Please." The whisper froze his hand and chilled the walls of his throat. That whisper, that desperation, it sounded almost like- “I’m sorry. Please -- I --.”
'-I'll do it again. I'll do it right. I'm not a failure! I'm-!'
'-Sorry. Sorry, don't-!'
Kuja's fingers clenched. His eyes lit with fire at the pitiful, helpless man before him. Useless. Begging. Completely at his mercy. He didn't deserve to live, not if he was this weak. That was the way of the world, wasn't it? The strong preyed upon the weak and the weak fell to the hands of the strong. That was why Kuja had needed strength. He wasn't like this. He'd never been-!
'Please.'
'Please'
'Please!'
His teeth ground together. His magic sparked hot at his lungs. It lurched into throat, past his tongue, words that would freeze, that would kill, that would fry. He raised his hand, eyes sharp, blood burning.
Useless. Pitiful. Weak.
"I need help."
The words stopped him where he stood. They flooded his mind like rainwater, and soon he was cursing -- half in Gaian and half in harsh syllables the man wouldn't understand. He grit his teeth against his own pounding bloodlust, raising a hand to his forehead and nearly laughing against that grimacing, heated thing inside him. He couldn't kill this man, not because of something as trivial as pity but because he had power. Because he was easily manipulated. Because he'd put himself at Kuja's mercy.
As tempting and even satisfying as it would be to watch the man burn under his own misguided pleading, it would give Kuja nothing else. He needed pawns. He needed defenses, particularly if that righteous Warrior was still alive. He couldn't just go killing one when it came literally falling through his ceiling.
Even if it would have been so very, very gratifying.
Kuja's jaw locked against his cheek until he tasted blood. His breath came strained and staggered through his nose. Slowly, his magic cooled. The man was no threat -- not as he was now. Kuja would merely have to tame him. His patience had managed far worse before, after all. Far, far worse.
He closed his eyes, counted backwards from twenty, then took a deep breath and opened them. The man was still limp against the stone, eyes closed and breathing raggedly. Kuja sighed and stepped towards him, raising a hand to capture him in a gentle telekinesis. The man glowed with blue magic before lifting carefully from the ground. Kuja smiled at him.
"I can help you," he said. He took a few steps closer, careful to stay out of range of any surprised and lashing tendrils. "Just close your eyes. When you awaken, you will be well." The magic pooled in his hand and wafted like smoke into the man's lungs. After a few seconds' resistance, the man fell limp in his grasp. Unconscious. Malleable.
Kuja scowled the second his eyes had closed. "Idiot." He lifted the man higher in his magical embrace, far rougher this time and liable to scrape the wall. It hardly mattered what happened to him. If he awoke, he wouldn't dare think Kuja had caused him harm. If he didn't...
Well, that problem would solve itself then, wouldn't it?
Kuja tightened his grasp and started back into the tunnels of his subterranean lair. The limp and unconscious body floated behind him like a wraith in blue light. Kuja's thoughts raced with medical cures, magical theories, and questions that he couldn't answer. A fire beat in his heart, pounding hot temptation with every step. 'Kill him,' it whispered, and yet, Kuja did not strike. He was no animal driven by impulse. He was not someone weak enough to jeopardize his victory for the sake of emotion.
In short, Kuja was nothing like the man he held at his mercy. And so, he would heal him if that was what it took to further his goals. His step quickened with urgency.
If he wished for a new pawn, then there was no time to spare. He had work to do.
The emperor approached his dragon, lowered his head, and bowed. Kuja raised a hand to his mouth, twisted in the ghost of laughter. A silver dragon would understand the formalities of normal courts about as well as it would understand the complete works of Avon -- that was to say not at all. Still, there was something almost charming to the man's eager simplicity. At least it was well-mannered if nothing else. And Kuja had missed the rituals of royalty. He let his hand fall to his hip and gave an almost longing sigh.
What he wouldn't give for his home back in Treno -- before he'd murdered the queen and branded himself a traitor to Alexandria. Those days had been marked by opulence and grace. It was a life he had built for himself -- a scandalous life that could have only belonged to him. It would have continued forever had it not been for his plotting. Or rather, for Garland's plotting.
But no. He wouldn't think of that now. He had appearances to keep up, after all.
Mateus slid onto the dragon's back with only a slight hesitance, pulling at her feathers in a way that made her eyes wrinkle with displeasure. Kuja slid his fingers down her snout, muttering comfortingly in his native tongue. 'Not this one,' he said again, and she shot him a look that could only be called annoyed. 'I need him alive.'
Kuja shot her a mysterious smile before slipping his hand behind her crested bone plate and drifting to his place behind her wings. He launched himself over her side in one practiced movement unhindered by the bulk of his armor. In a second, he'd settled confidently between her shoulder blades, and sat stroking her feathers thoughtfully. Why did he need this mysterious emperor? He wasn't entirely sure if he was being honest, but he knew that it was better than killing him. Men like Mateus needed power like most needed air. He would serve as a distraction at worst and a pawn at best. That nagging sense of familiarity told him that he needn't wait long.
This man would make his move sooner rather than later. It was best that Kuja orient himself as an ally and quickly.
Kuja glanced over his shoulder and gave the man a knowing smile. "You'll want to hold onto something," he said. "I'd hardly wish you to fall to your death." As funny as that would be. His mind lingered on the image -- that gaudy, self-assured gold falling helpless through the clouds -- but he wouldn't indulge it. Later, perhaps, once he'd gotten what he wanted. Yes, maybe then.
Kuja stroked his dragon's neck and leaned in to whisper in her ear. 'It's time to go now.' The dragon stirred at his words, giving a soft screech before spreading her wings and flapping them until she'd gained a few feet of height. Kuja turned to the emperor and offered him a delicate hand. A new rider was liable to lose balance and either fall or lurch towards him in desperate self-preservation.
Kuja hardly wished to suffer the whole flight with the emperor's arms around his waist. If he wished the man to touch him, he would make the offer himself, and it would hardly involve his dragon.
Kuja's lips set as he turned to consider the sky before them. Soon, they would arrive in the town of Provo and the people would gawk at the spectacle before them -- a dragon and its rider as mysterious as they were dangerous. His innocent facade would end, but then, he had ended it himself only weeks ago. He turned his attention towards new horizons now. Darker horizons. Soon, he would throw himself to his work, plotting and inventing until his eyes could scarcely focus. Soon, he would become the villain this world so desired.
But that time was not yet. As he steadied the man behind him, Kuja could only wonder what would become of him. Would the world turn on him in a way his own had not? Would he forge a new empire to feed his growing ego? Or would he simply fade into obscurity like so many others in this world before him? Kuja could hardly say, and yet, he found himself hoping for the man's success. It would be interesting at least. An ally in arms, a pawn to his schemes, or perhaps even a rival to keep him occupied. That is what Kuja saw as he glanced behind him at the pretty face with eyes lit in hunger and mouth set in determination. 'Entertain me, won't you?' he thought with a thinly veiled smile. 'This world is too uneventful for my taste.'
The skies expanded before him in seas of blue, pink, and yellow. Kuja considered its infinite horizons, even as the sun set and the day came to an end. Soon, this world would become the stage for a conflict never seen before -- a tragedy, it seemed, of clashing wills. Heroes would surface from the shadows as righteous as that pathetic Warrior and far more furious. When that time came, Kuja would need an alliance of the unscrupulous or easily mislead to defend him, but that was already underway. His first machinations had come to fruition. Now he only needed assemble his pawns in a place that no hero would pay him mind.
Kuja twisted his fingers between his dragon's feathers, stroking her fondly. The wind touched at his cheeks and the wisps of his hair. As the sun disappeared over the horizon, he hardly cared about his lacking resources or his sore wounds or even for the man seated behind. He kept his eyes forward towards the shadows emerging beneath them.
The man jolted at Kuja's words, scrambling back like a startled animal. Kuja tensed at the movement, at those startled eyes, and more than anything at the darkness. Whatever strange power the man possessed, it lashed out with its owner, whipping out its tendrils like something alive. Kuja's magic sparked at his fingertips, hot, sharp, and ready for the thing before him to strike. His eyes narrowed. He should have eliminated the threat while he had the chance to do so quietly. His fingers heated with rectifying thunder. He raised a hand to attack.
But the man had already calmed. The darkness receded. Reluctantly, Kuja let the magic cool from his fingertips.
The stranger sat again at the side of the pool, breathing heavily as his feet dangled into the water. Kuja worked hard to keep his expression neutral, even as he scanned the intruder for signs of hostility. Kuja didn't recognize the man's magic, but the sight of it had sent his neck prickling. Whatever it was, it was dangerous and it was unrestrained. Not unlike Zidane's magic, really, though this felt far more malicious. Whatever it was, Kuja didn't want to fight it.
No, he wished to study it, but for that he would need cooperation. With a breath, Kuja released the last of the cautioun from his eyes. He kept his expression neutral, calming, even pleasant -- at least, as far as he was capable. His heart still raced with warning. His magic still hummed in waiting expectation.
At least the man had dropped his guard. “My apologies,” he said. “I … did not think anyone would be here.”
An understandable mistake, though it did nothing to explain his murderous power. Kuja nodded his solemn sympathy, even as his mind raced with questions.
'What was that? It didn't come from the planet, and it certainly wasn't Terran. Is that what he used to get in here? What would it have done to me?'
'What could it do to someone else?'
“I haven’t come here with ill intent,” the intruder continued. “I became lost in the desert, searching for a man.”
Well that explained something, though it was hardly the question Kuja wished to ask. The man had nearly died in the desert. What a surprise. No one came this far without reaching death's door, and his oasis was the only water source for miles. Still, Kuja held his tongue. Patience was the key. Patience and concern.
The man had lost some of his dangerous edge. His fingers twisted together anxiously, and his eyes were lowered almost in submission. He was like an animal in his movements -- dangerous and wild. And perhaps, it seemed, intimidated or perhaps merely pleading. Regardless, it was a welcome change from his prior lashings. Kuja had almost expected the man to snarl.
"Well, I'm glad that you found your way here. The desert can be dangerous, even deadly without proper preparations." The lie slid effortlessly from his lips, just another comforting platitude while Kuja decided whether to kill the man or not. Both options certainly had their merits. Should he strike now, the danger to his life would be extinguished and he could return to his work in peace. If he let him live, then perhaps the stranger would join his cause. But was it really worth the risk to-?
The man was watching him.
Not just watching him, but staring. The man's eyes slid from Kuja's hair to his eyes to his bare hips and stomach, and while Kuja was certainly used to the attention, there seemed something almost hungry about the man's gaze -- intense and wild in a way that made Kuja's lips purse. He hardly cared what the man thought, but it felt indecent regardless. Rude in that peculiar animal way of his.
Be it from lust, repulsion, or awe, it wasn't polite to stare.
And suddenly the man's eyes sparked with fear. There was no reason for it as far as Kuja could tell. One second he was staring intensely into Kuja's eyes and the next he looked as though he were balancing over lava. Kuja's magic pricked in silent preparation. Perhaps it would be best to do away with him.
“Are…” the stranger started before swallowing hard and taking a breath. “Are you…the man who destroyed Torensten on the back of a dragon?”
Oh. Was that why he'd panicked? Odd. Kuja was certain no one had seen him flee Torensten. Perhaps the Warrior had survived to spread rumors about him. How problematic.
"Destroyed?" Kuja echoed innocently. His eyes widened as he touched at his lip in shock. "I didn't touch that city, though I certainly could have had that been my intention. I merely thought to examine the ruins beneath their streets. I had no way of knowing that doing so would awaken dragons. Though if Torensten has been destroyed...I suppose I would be the one to blame." Kuja's eyebrows furrowed. He bit anxiously at the tip of his nail. "Destroyed..." he said again. "I hadn't the slightest idea."
"But that is hardly relevant now." Kuja waved his hand dismissively before looking to the man in concern. "Is there anything I can do for you? The desert must have taken quite a toll on your body, and I am skilled in the curative arts. If you need anything, just say the word."
'At least until I decide what to do with you.' Kuja bit back the scowl that threatened his lips. The man was clearly unstable -- feral even, but there was nothing to be done for it while that magic protected him. Until then, all he could do was kill the man with kindness.
And hope he was as stupid as he was completely and utterly insane.
The emperor tensed at his mockery. Something stirred in the man's eyes before his lips tightened and his expression cooled. "Call me what you will," he said, "But even though a rose may be severed from its bush, a rose it still is."
Kuja blinked at the metaphor, and then laughed quietly. "A rose..." he echoed. The emperor had a way of consistently surprising him, though perhaps expecting less of him had been Kuja's mistake. Anyone who would introduce himself with a musing on the gods was someone worthy of respect -- gaudy fashion and all. Kuja stifled his laughter and shook his head. Perhaps he would humor this man after all.
"So it is," he said, tilting his head as he touched thoughtfully at his cheek. "It seems that nobility courses through you like lifeblood. Perhaps you'll take an empire again..." The words were familiar. Sickening, almost, in the way they touched his tongue. He'd said them before -- so many times before -- though to a far less pleasant recipient. Kuja's neck prickled at the thought of the Queen's mottled skin and piggy eyes. He'd hated her eyes as much as he'd hated her touch, and he'd hated her presumptions of him most of all. But that was then, and this was now.
The emperor would prove a far more pleasant puppet.
"Your aid thus far has been invaluable. If aid I can lend you in your pursuit here, let me be of service."
Kuja raised an eyebrow. He certainly hadn't expected an offer so quickly, and yet, he was hardly surprised. He knew the emperor's type just as he'd known to play the Queen like a harp. Mateus was one who valued dignity, nobility, and power, and one who was not above sacrifice to achieve them. He'd prickled at knowing insults, even as forgiveness had slid from his tongue. His title seemed of greater important than his own name, and he carried it with him regardless of position. The emperor was a man of greed, just as the Queen had been, and Kuja could play those strings almost as skillfully as he could lust.
And at first introductions, there was no saying that lust would not play its part either.
Kuja touched lightly at his cheek and gave a wistful sigh. "Your service? But I should hardly accept the aid from someone of your position. If anything, I should be helping you." He shook his head. "Regardless, there is little that I could ask. I'm to leave shortly for the desert and won't return for some time. At least, not until I discover another lead on the portal."
He refolded his arms and glanced at the emperor, frowning. "As for your questions, I'm afraid I can't answer them with certainty. If you're curious as to the length my experience, I'd suggest asking the natives when our kind first fell from their skies. My time here would have begun shortly after that. And as for your second question..." Kuja glanced to the skies thoughtfully. "Yes, I've thought very much on it. I believe that the ruins before us act as the portal, and that should several relics be activated, the portal might be of some use. I've already dealt with the first, and the result stands before you. When I last came to this place, this arch was as lifeless as all the others. Now it burns with magic."
Kuja turned from the portal, gesturing to it almost dismissively. He gave another longing sigh. "Others seem to think it an act of random chance or even the will of gods. But those are cowards' answers for those unable or unwilling to seek truth. I search for something more. You're welcome to join me if you'd like." He gave the emperor an almost sultry glance. His lips echoed with the ghost of a smile. "There's no telling what ancient powers my search could stumble upon. Dragons, for instance, though it came at a price. The people here resisted what was in their best interest." Or at least, what was in his best interest. He let his words fall as delicate as raindrops. "To tell the truth, I find this world horribly unstructured. Perhaps..." His eyes lifted to meet the emperor's. "It needs a ruler."
Kuja smiled as the words settled between them. He let his eyes speak the implications he wouldn't dare touch his lips.
After a moment, he broke the spell with a shake of his head. "As it stands, I will be unavailable for some time, though I can at least offer you transport back to the nearest town. Perhaps you could benefit from learning of this world first hand. And should you wish to find me..." Kuja offered him a mischievous smile. "You need only search the desert. I'm certain that one of your caliber should have little trouble with the task."
At least, if he was worth anything, he wouldn't. Kuja gestured towards the dragon. "Well then, shall we?" he asked with a tilt of his head. His mouth twisted into a smirk. "Don't worry," he said. "She only bites on my command."
"Your prowess proceeds you when a dragon is your mount. I'm impressed."
Kuja paused. Of all the responses the emperor could have given, that was not what he'd expected. Like-minded mockery? Likely. Self-satisfied dismissals? Certainly. Compliments? Absolutely not.
And yet, there was no mistaking the man's even demeanor and flattery. He had taken every one of Kuja's insults unflinchingly, and the emperor did not seem the type to have missed them. Kuja's eyes flicked over the man, eyeing him cautiously. Something about this felt wrong, but he could see nothing here beyond a man who was either thick-skinned or desperate.
He supposed that having a dragon didn't hurt either. She watched the man with predatory curiosity. Kuja glanced at her and projected words that his mouth didn't say: 'Be still. This one's not for you.'
The emperor admitted to being lost. Though he tried to spin it with regal dignity, there weren't many ways to dress up helplessness, and Kuja hardly missed the subtext. The emperor was new to the world: lost, uncertain, and almost certainly lacking memories. Informing new victims of their condition had become so routine that Kuja almost found it a waste of time. Or at least, he would have if desperate amnesiacs were not so easily manipulated. At least the emperor seemed prepared to flatter him.
"Also it's a rare thing to see an Emperor out and about. Perhaps you'll come to feel honored after all."
Or maybe not. Kuja laughed again, glancing playfully at the man with a touch at his bottom lip. "Perhaps," he mused before tossing his hair over his shoulder. It seemed he had miscalculated. If the man wished to play at respect, then Kuja would do the same in turn.
"My apologies," he said, turning to face him. "It seems I'd mistaken you for someone else. A certain gaudy, scheming someone I met in a dream." Kuja tilted his head, raising his eyes to the sky. Emperor Mateus had not acted in the way Kuja had expected of him, and yet, he still couldn't shake that infuriating sense of familiarity. If the Warrior was to be believed (and Kuja had little doubts about that), then Kuja had almost certainly met this man before. Still, it hardly mattered when the man suffered amnesia. Kuja was more than willing to forgive any half-remembered past if it meant another puppet in his schemes.
He offered the emperor a regal wave of his hand. "Please forgive my sharp tongue. You had done nothing to deserve it." In emphasis, he even gave the man a graceful bow deserving of any noble court in Alexandria or Treno. When he rose, his expression had cleared. He took several thoughtful steps forward.
"As for your location, I'm afraid I have no simple answers." Kuja stopped and glanced at the Crystallus Divider. He gave it a somber frown. "I came to study this ruins' magical properties. You see, I am lost myself, and believe this place to be a gateway of sorts. A gateway back home."Wherever that was. Kuja's stomach twisted at that hated word, but he hardly had time to brood.
Kuja turned his attention back to the emperor. For once, his smile had faded. "As unbelievable as it might be, this place is a gathering point for lost souls. Many a traveler has woken here as though simply dropped from the sky, each claiming to hail from somewhere more fantastic than the last. Some experience memory loss. Others arrive fully intact. None can remember how it was they came to this place. That is what I seek to discover."
He turned to consider the Divider, arms crossed and head tilted. "So I'm afraid I haven't heard of Palamecia, just as I'm certain you've heard nothing of Alexandria. It's the way of the world, at least until my work is complete."
He paused, smirked faintly, and then cleared his expression. "It seems your title is useless here without an empire behind it." He glanced at the man, eyes lit with amusement. "Shall I simply call you Mateus then? The honorific feels a tad forced."
