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.
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year 5, quarter 3
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[attr=class,bulk] Mikoto’s eyes were fixed on him, cool and unblinking. She had a surprisingly insightful counterpoint. Their cells might behave the same under general circumstances, but could there not be some mechanism to trigger sudden degradation?
Kuja didn’t like to think of it. He didn’t like to speak of it, particularly not to another being so close to himself. But Mikoto was trying to be helpful, and he had asked for this, and he could only remind himself of these two facts again and again in the face of his more violent impulses under pressure.
He was being difficult, and he hated it. For once, he could place the blame only on himself.
”That theory is certainly…possible.” His tail thumped invisibly against the stone as he spoke. He hoped she would not guess the origin of the sound. ”And it doesn’t sound out of character for him. That is another facet we must consider. This is not some disease plaguing me by the hands of fate. This was intentional. And we know the soul of the one responsible.”
It was a terrible soul. A twisted one, so obsessed with a singular purpose that it had lost sight of any will of its own. He supposed he could have pitied him when viewed from that angle. He abstinently refused.
Mikoto was sharing her own experiences now, and while she offered to take Kuja to this mysterious biologist, she seemed subdued by the idea. What exactly had the man done to her? It wasn’t as though either of them were unused to being treated as research specimens.
Interesting.
”This man…We could kill him if you’d like.” He waved his hand, twirling it almost playfully. ”His test may have been of some use, but even if we were to replicate them, we’d need only his machinery. And it is far easier to steal from the dead than the living.” Perhaps it could be another lesson for her – how to bring vengeance upon those who have wronged you and bask in the satisfaction afterwards.
It could be a kind of bonding exercise. He’d heard those were common among Gaian siblings.
But that could wait for another time.
Mikoto gestured towards the machines, her tone as flat as ever as she explained that they were more or less useless to them – ravaged by time and the local wildlife. He considered her words, head tilted slightly.
”Anything that has been built can be repaired given the proper time and equipment,” he said. ”Given enough time scavenging the lesser explored ruins, I’m certain that I could come across something of use, but often a broken machine is simply a waste of time.”
A waste, at least, if there was any possibility of a more suitable substitute. Mikoto had a point. ’These caverns do go deeper.’
Kuja turned towards the tunnel and hummed thoughtfully. It was true. He certainly could have gone back into the storm to be buffeted by gale winds and a deluge of rain as he searched for some highly dangerous ruins guarded by deadly robots. Or they could simply…go deeper.
He would undoubtedly confront the mechanical hordes another time in search of lost lore and power. For that, however, it was best to wait for more tolerable weather.
”Why not explore a little then?” Kuja glanced at Mikoto. ”You’re free to stay here if you’d rather not risk your life. If something awaits us in the dark, I won’t be taking any steps to protect you.” It was a fair warning, he thought. He thought still that she wouldn’t heed it. She would creep along like his own shadow if he tried to leave her, and she seemed utterly incapable of kindly taking a hint.
[attr=class,bulk] Ah, but he seemed to have touched a nerve.
He watched her with barely veiled amusement as she protested her supposed “forgiveness.” She watched her wine for a moment, her eyes veiled in shadow, as she told him a most interesting story regarding her lecherous husband. Kuja of course had never cared for the idiot regent of Lindblum, and couldn’t quite keep the smirk from his lips at hearing of his misfortune and of her prolonged vengeance.
It seemed she was trying to make a point, but in truth, she only endeared herself to him further. He longed to hear more about how exactly she’d made him beg at her feet, nothing but the miserable pest she’d rightfully transformed him into. Oh, how he must have croaked his pleas! He thought it brilliant, personally, and his eyes brightened at the thought.
She did not fully forgive him, she said, and Kuja laughed softly at her words. ”Nor should you,” he agreed. ”Though if I might offer a singular apology, it would be for my assumption that you had. I had underestimated your intelligence and ferocity. I hope not to do so again.”
Though as she went on, he couldn’t help but wonder…
”Why not? Treat others the way you have been treated? Is that not a proper way to value yourself?” He tilted his head, considering the lodge’s cavernous ceilings. It was a sort of hypothetical, not something that thought could have a definitive answer. Still, the way she spoke made him feel as though he should challenge her, and so he did. ”You are no longer restrained by the noble courts and personally I can think of little more satisfying than bearing witness to your fury.”
Yes, why not break the bonds of society and expectation? Why not act in ways that her oppressors would abhor? Why not become the untamed witch she had admitted she so admired?
All he could do was point her gently in the right direction.
She explained the reason she’d come to the mountains, and Kuja’s eyebrows raised in interest. An alpine food and wine festival? How very cultured. It didn’t quite align with his interests, but he supposed that while he was already here, he may as well join her and so he stood, wine glass carefully in hand. He was unaware that Hilda’s lineage gave her experience with vineyards, but they knew so very little about each other after all. He nodded and folded that fact away for later use.
”I know little of the process. I hadn’t the time.” Nor did he particularly have the interest. He didn’t see how it could be made to serve his purposes.
Hilda herself, however, could be quite useful depending on his needs. It seemed that in his absence, she had made connections with a powerful family who had become her patron of the arts. ”A school? And does such a position interest you?” He couldn’t imagine her as a teacher. It was too passive a role though perhaps if she needed to make ends meet…
Hilda asked him a question. Or rather, she told him a story and asked him his opinion. He listened carefully, considered the situation, and then answered. ”There are several possibilities that come to mind. There are potions made from certain monster extracts which can make a victim highly suggestible though I’ve never heard of any ‘love potion’ which restores one’s passions. There are stimulants, as you mentioned, and some elixirs which aid in depression. However if it was single use…”
He touched his bottom lip, deep in thought. ”You say that the daughter was cursed? I suspect that your love potions were nothing of the sort. They may have merely purified the malignant magic within her. Though I would need to inspect them myself to know for certain.”
He wondered. What sort of curse caused one to lose their love of painting? It seemed strangely specific. If he were to hazard a guess, the painting was only the most visible side effect of a magic meant to dampen the spirit. Its true aim may have been suicide.
”Keep an eye for suspicious persons, and if the mother is agreeable, you may wish to place protective sigils around the girl’s quarters. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was an attempt on her life, and someone using such complex magic is most certain to try again.” He wondered what this hypothetical assailant may have been after. Had the family spurned them in some way? Perhaps they were also responsible for the death of the father.
But that was enough speculation.
They came out to the veranda, and Kuja took a moment to admire the scenery. The view from here was not quite what he could have achieved on his dragon, but it was beautiful nonetheless. He closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp scent of fallen leaves and spiced apples.
”It feels strange to live so slow paced.” He opened his eyes and gazed down upon the people below. They milled about, sipping their glasses as they went from stall to stall. Somewhere, music was playing on instruments he couldn’t identify.
”I never had time before to admire the scenery. I still did, of course, but it was always in the midst of something more. Some war or scheme or other such business. It feels as though I should be doing something more productive, but I have little else to occupy my time.”
He glanced at Hilda. ”How does your patron feel about you traveling so far for something so trivial?”
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@ladyhilda
Speculating from his experience as an evil sorcerer
[attr=class,bulk] Kuja thought that it might take more convincing on his part, but it didn’t. At the mention of starting their work, Mikoto threw herself upright, tail curling in her eagerness. He wondered if her previous fatigue had all been an act, but quickly decided that it wasn’t. Mikoto was a terrible liar.
Her eyes flitted to the papers in the corner, and she shuddered. Interesting. However she felt about the records, she summarized them well enough. She’d seen some kind of human researcher specializing in nonhuman subjects hoping to ascertain enough data to use herself as a control against his abnormalities. He didn’t know what she thought when he’d locked himself away, but apparently it had worried her. The tests had been painful. Kuja raised an eyebrow, but didn’t probe any further. He wondered what tests this xenobiologist had run. He wondered what technology this world’s humans had access to.
Mikoto hopped out of bed and started towards the records, talking all the while. Once she’d reached them, she held them up, reading them carefully as she continued. Kuja knew the aging process in Gaians. Unsurprisingly, Mikoto’s cells did not behave the same as a human’s when exposed to aging stimulants. Kuja listened with his arms crossed, considering the wall with increasing impatience. Neither of them had ever aged. They both knew this, and so the data was irrelevant. Mikoto seemed aware of this, at least, as she said as much once she’d finished her conclusions. He waved a dismissive hand.
”My cells would likely behave the same as yours,” he said. ”I imagine it to be a more drastic system’s failure rather than the rapid onset of aging or cellular degradation. Though I suppose we can’t definitively rule it out without running further tests.”
He sighed. This conversation already made him want to set the world aflame. It would have been easier than dealing with the suffocating feeling that had settled unpleasantly in his throat.
”My black mages expired when they burned through their limited reserves of fuel – in their case, mist. But that was a limitation born from the crude technology available to me. We both know that genomes have no such limitations.” His eyes swept across the room to the broken machinery and empty beds left long abandoned. Mikoto had come here with a purpose. She hadn’t said as much, but he knew well enough to connect the implications. She’d found a ruined medbay and was despondent at its lack of operations.
He supposed it wasn’t the worst place to start.
”Perhaps if we could rebuild these machines and perhaps replicate the tests that the humans here use…” He glanced at the papers in her hand. ”They were surprisingly in depth. Far more so than Gaia could have accomplished. They reported all manner of proteins and enzyme levels that I didn’t realize they even knew about. So perhaps we could spend some manner of time here, working on the ruined machinery, and some manner of time in the other civilizations learning more about their advancements and taking some of it for our own purposes. This can serve as something of a base of operations for now.”
It wasn’t much, but then his desert palace hadn’t been either when he’d first come across it in ruins beneath the sands. It had been the relic of a dead civilization, and he’d made it his own. This underground bunker was on far less grand a scale, but it was most likely a temporary matter. With a little work, it could at least be made inhabitable.
”The machines…” He waved a hand towards them. ”You said they lacked fuel?”
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@blacksuit4
He's very good at taking charge and deciding things lol
[attr=class,bulk] Hilda had the sense of mind to store his letter for later. Good. That was one hurdle cleared though now he couldn’t tear his mind away from the thought of her reading it. When would she open it? And what would she think? His heart pounded with a sudden and uncertain anxiety. He forced it to quiet.
What should it matter what she thought? Why should it cause him any trouble? There were more important things to worry over than her approval. He really shouldn’t have been wasting time here at all. And yet…
Glasses clinked against the table. Their wine. As the servant left, Hilda spoke again, softly. ”You speak of the past, however what do you think of us now without Terra and your creatore at your back?”
Kuja laughed. It was short and humorless and somewhat unlike him. ”Is that all?” It seemed an impossibly difficult question for one to answer all at once. ”That depends, I suppose. By ‘us’ do you mean you and I? Or you and your kind? The first has changed. The second, less so.”
His general disdain for the people of Gaia may have been born from circumstance, but they had done nothing but validate his thoughts on them. Perhaps with time that disdain could fade into a kind of general apathy. And of course, the change of circumstance allowed for certain exceptions to the rule.
Hilda told him of her time in his palace. He’d already read her experiences, of course, and witnessed them from his end, but he listened all the same. Truly, she was unlike the others, if her first reaction to his alien nature was curiosity and diplomacy rather than horror.
Perhaps that was why he allowed himself to be fond of Hilda. Even back then when it could have had deadly consequences, he simply couldn’t help himself.
Her conclusion gave him cause for thought. ’Our differences do not make us enemies. The war between our people did.’ He’d never considered it much of a war himself. To him, it was a slaughter. A simple culling of numbers. Their goal had not been to conquer the planet through violence, but simply the act of violence itself. He supposed it wasn’t a terrible perspective, however, if one considered Garland to be a regent of sorts sending his singular soldier forth on his behalf. Kuja himself hated the idea, but he could see the appeal.
It must have made more sense to a Gaian, he thought, than killing for its own sake.
She asked him to walk with her and raised her glass. He took his own in his hand and considered it for a moment. Then he looked at her, paused, and raised it in a show of solidarity. ”I don’t know whether to appreciate your forgiveness or to take pity on you.” He sipped from his glass. The spiced alpine wine certainly lived up to its name. He wasn’t certain if it was to his taste, but he could see the appeal.
”Let’s go together then. It seems they’re having some sort of festivities today.” He had no idea what, but it certainly seemed so. Was that what had drawn Hilda here? Or was she simply appreciating the mountain air? ”I’ll let you begin. What all has happened since I lost contact? And where have your travels brought you?”
It was safer than speaking of his own events. Though perhaps he would share in time. He made no promises.
[attr=class,bulk] Mikoto was difficult to wake. Kuja made note of that as he waited, arms crossed, for some kind of response. She said nothing at first, merely stretching herself like a cat before rolling over. When she did speak (with verbal words – he didn’t count that little psychic flourish she’d thrown at him), it was mere muttering. She gave him her explanation which wasn’t terrible as far as they went though he would have preferred she sit up straight and actually talk to him. How tired was she? Had she accidentally drugged herself on the way here?
Or perhaps, he thought, she was merely comfortable with his presence. Her reaction showed a distinct lack of fear. Fear of reprisal would have cleared her senses immediately and had her on alert, and yet…
Well, he wasn’t exactly in the act of reprising her, was he?
Instead, he merely waited impatiently as she burrowed deeper into her nest of moldering blankets. When she next spoke, it was with a kind of despair. ”Can I really exist outside of Bran Bal?”
Why on all of Gaia was she asking him?
”That’s your choice. Either you adapt or you cease existence.” He felt his tail flick with annoyance. This was hardly productive. ”I thought it impossible at first, but I put in the work to learn their culture and build a reputation. It took time. I won’t say that guarantees that you could do the same, but…” Kuja made a vague gesture. ”That really depends on how badly you wish to survive, doesn’t it?”
Looking at her now, he would guess that drive was relatively low. He had a certain sense for weakness.
”If you’re really so tired then sleep. Or you could show me what you found and we could get started on our work.” It wasn’t a choice he would have offered if he wasn’t almost certain as to her answer. ”I read through your medical records. Perhaps we could start there?”
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@blacksuit4
"I don't know. Either live or die. Why should I care?"
[attr=class,bulk] ”Interesting. Now where did you find this…?”
Kuja turned the page of the paperwork he found on that old and dusty bed. It appeared to be medical records of some kind, noting Mikoto’s vital signs, her blood levels, and all manner of other tests that were rudimentary but thorough. It had a doctor’s name on it who had written all manner of notes and comparisons to control groups as well as Mikoto’s feelings on the matter written in glyphs along the margins. He glanced through the records and then at Mikoto herself who was currently curled up on one of the long forgotten beds across the room.
Interesting indeed.
Outside, a storm was raging. It was typical of the region, he supposed. Sheets of warm rain coming down in curtains, obscuring his vision, soaking him through as lightning struck in forked spears in the distance. It was typical, but that didn’t mean he had to like it, particularly now that he was dripping wet inside an underground bunker that lacked the heat of the upper levels. It had taken him some time to find this place. He wasn’t sure whether to curse Mikoto or praise her ingenuity and drive.
Maybe he would do both.
His journey north had taken only two days. His journey to the valley had only taken three days on top of that. It was less than a week then since he’d first left the city, and he hadn’t thought it unreasonable to expect that Mikoto would still be in the same location that she’d shown an interest in beforehand. She was on her way to Keleawe Village, she’d told him, for something involving machines. He didn’t need to land to know that she was gone when he arrived five days later, but it was nearly sunset and his dragon was tired and it gave him the opportunity to ask if she’d been seen in the area.
She had, as a matter of fact. And she’d made quite the reputation for herself in his absence.
Kuja still wasn’t clear on the details, but he knew it involved a robot building competition, Mikoto, and a mechanical chocobo that had run rampant through the village, destroying property and sending nearly a dozen people to a healer. Outwardly, he’d feigned shock. Inwardly, he’d wanted to laugh.
They’d both been built for the business of destruction. It seemed Mikoto had as natural a talent for it as he did.
But that still had left him with no clear answer as to her current location which meant he’d had to search on his senses alone. He knew only that she was east and then north and then his senses doubled back over themselves. He’d spent some time circling the same uninhabited foliage, questioning his own perception, knowing that she should be there, but seeing with his own eyes that she wasn’t. Then the rain had started. It was a pleasant drizzle at first that quickly escalated in a deluge, and he still didn’t have any answers. By the time that he found the entrance to the underground bunker, his mood had fouled and he was already practicing the speech he would give her about staying in a single location.
Then he’d come across the abandoned medical bay and he’d read her notes and now he wasn’t quite so sure of his own rage.
What he did know was that this place was far too dark and dank and cold for his liking. He spotted an old hearth along the far wall, and with a wave of his hand, it roared to life in a burst of flames. It lit the room in a warm orange and settled in on itself, crackling pleasantly. He’d have to make sure that it had the proper ventilation so it didn’t smoke them both out, but it would do for now. He could always extinguish it as quickly as he’d given it life.
He walked over to Mikoto, heels clicking, hair dripping, his white sleeves heavy and nearly translucent with rainwater. Then he stopped and waited for her to stir. ”Care to explain?” he asked.
It was far more to the point than a simple ‘hello.’
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@blacksuit4
Kuja finds Mikoto much less adorable asleep than I do lol
Positive: Kuja has made a name for himself in Aljana as a dealer of magical weaponry. He's in regular business with the local blacksmiths, buying their swords, armor, and other trinkets so that he can infuse them with protective or offensive magic and sell them at a profit. The quality of his work is unmatched in the trade.
Positive: Kuja has been known to frequent the theaters of Torensten and Provo with a teenage girl who claims to be his sister. He's a patron of the higher arts and an afficionado of culture. He can generally be found at the opening night of any anticipated play.
Negative: Chief among Kuja's enemies on Zephon are the Dragonblades -- more specifically Caius Dragelion who claims that he's in league with the fiend that destroyed Metaia Temple and shrouded the land in death. They claim that he's a powerful mage skilled in both white and black magic, and that he's as dangerous as he is manipulative. These claims are true, of course, but Kuja would rather like that they go away.
Negative: Any traveler from the world of Gaia can attest that Kuja is a world destroying monster who leads nations to war, entire races to extinction, and planets to their end with sadistic glee. Kuja fears that word of his past misdeeds will travel, giving him a disadvantage when gaining the trust of gullible idiots everywhere.
False: Given his dress, appearance, and propensity for wandering the streets at night, rumor has it that he's some kind of exotic sex worker. His gender is ambiguous and will often change in the telling of this particular suspicion.
Final Fantasy IX
27
YEARS
Agendered
Open
Pansexual
333 POSTS
Fin
Peace is but a shadow of death, desperate to forget its painful past.
[attr=class,bulk] Hilda began with a kind of idle small talk. Kuja could have laughed. The situation called for declarations of horror and surprise, not mild compliments. Still, he supposed he would take what he could. She thought his new manner of dress ’suited him handsomely.’ That wasn’t a word he was quite used to. Beautiful, yes. Eccentric, perhaps. But never handsome.
His tail flicked with a veiled irritation. ”The weather here is harsher than I’m accustomed to. My body is naturally more resilient to the elements, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant.” His tail flicked again. ”I last came to this place in search of a rare flower that I could use as an alchemical component. Even in the spring, it was frigid. Then I ran afoul a beast which, in its territorial frenzy, started an avalanche.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. ”Needless to say, I wasn’t thrilled when your bird led me north. I thought a change was in order. One discomfort traded for another, I suppose.”
Still, he’d made it work. He’d found a fashion that was mostly suitable and accessorized it until it felt almost like himself. Apparently Hilda found it “stunning.”
That was satisfying enough, he supposed.
Hilda went on to the matter of their letters, and he felt the weight of his written words heavy in the inner jacket of his pocket. She suggested arcane encryption which wasn’t a terrible idea, really. It would take some coordination of their magic, but they were together now, and he couldn’t think of a better use of their time.
”If only you could read Terran glyphs,” he said almost wistfully. ”I don’t usually have to engage with ciphers for my most secretive of thoughts. There are advantages to being the only living soul on the planet fluent in a dead language.”
Even now, Hilda had a way of prompting him to speak his more honest thoughts. This too was strange. She already knew his secrets (or some of them at least) and she knew his nature. If anything, she would show only curiosity towards his extraplanetary origins and their implications. There was nothing he could say to shock her into silence.
Or very little he could say, at least. He seemed to have found it directly afterwards. He had read her letter, and that was enough.
For a moment, she was quiet. Her hand, previously raised to grab the attention of a nearby servant, lowered slowly into her lap. Her cheeks brightened into a blush. She looked out towards the rolling hills, carpeted in the decaying reds and yellows of the coming winter.
A servant trailed towards them. She ordered them both a glass of spiced wine. Kuja watched her and said nothing.
Time slipped like raindrops between them. When she spoke, it was softer than before. More sincere. ”I’ll let you know another secret of mine,” she said. ”Mulled wines always comfort me.”
Hilda smiled. Kuja did not. She danced around the topic with such grace that it might have distracted another, but he had come for one thing and one thing only. He needed to hear the words from her lips. He needed to know that her letter was real.
And so when she went on, placing her drink carefully in front of her, he listened. He tried to understand. For too long, he had ignored what she had spoken in between the lines. He had dismissed her unhappiness in Lindblum, her joy in the relative freedom of his palace, her interest in the forbidden arts that she could cultivate in the daylight of her new prison. When she met his eyes, he held her gaze. What was it that she truly meant now, sitting here by this mountainside view, waiting for their order of spiced, alpine wine?
”I could not let go of those feelings. I still do not want to.”
He thought that he was beginning to understand.
She reached for him and touched his hand. Kuja twitched, nearly pulling away on reflex, but then centered himself and allowed her touch. He was curious if nothing else. His tail swished beside him uncertainly.
“That letter had a great deal of words,” she said. Her grip on his hand tightened. “All just to find such a complicated and, at the time, sad word. Something I did not get to say to you.” She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. Kuja felt suddenly as though he were on the stage of a play, and she was an actress able to channel feelings of passion and pain into nothing more than the waver of her eyes.
When she opened them, they sparkled with tears. ”Hello,” she said. ”It’s so very nice to meet you.”
It was a brilliant line written by a playwright with all the subtleties that made whispers speak volumes. If this were a play and he were seated in the theater, he would know it in an instant as a declaration of forbidden love. But this was reality, not fiction, and he was an actor within it. He had no prewritten lines to say, and she acted on no intentions other than her own.
It was nice to meet him. His tail swished the feelings he couldn’t process for himself.
She continued, wondering if her letter was selfish, worrying that she’d offended him. As she turned her attention back to him, asking for his thoughts, he realized that he had yet to say anything since their conversation had turned to the letter. He was silent for some time, considering his words. He had flown across the country for this moment. What was it that he wanted her to hear?
”When I first set foot on Gaia, I was stunned by its beauty.” He spoke slowly. Thoughtfully. ”I’d never seen anything so bright and full of life. I was envious of all those who lived there, that they could experience such a thing each and every day and that they would take it for granted. I was saddened as well. It was a shame, I thought, that it would all have to die.”
He paused. It was a strange introduction, he knew, but he was not speaking the lines that he expected of himself. He would go off script. Just this once.
”The world’s people were strange to me. They had such odd thoughts and customs. I wanted to learn them all, but I knew I could not become one of them. They were expendable in the grand scheme of things, their lives nothing but fuel for Terra’s renewal. And should they learn of my true purpose, I would no longer be able to fulfill it. Which was a death sentence in my creator’s eyes.
”The people of Gaia were my enemy, and I was theirs. Should I fall, I had never expected that I would be missed. After all that I had done…”
He trailed off, looking out towards the mountainside. Below their veranda, people were gathering for some sort of festival. He pulled his hand away.
”You didn’t overstep your bounds,” he said before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a letter of his own. It was only four days old, folded in a pristine envelope sealed closed by a blot of violet wax pressed with his personal emblem. It wasn’t an icon known by most even on Gaia, but she would have recognized it in an instant. It had decorated so much of his palace, after all.
He handed it to her. It was a strangely vulnerable position. Watching her, knowing that his thoughts were in her hands, wondering if she would wait to read it until she was alone or if she would simply tear it open this instant, forcing him to wait as she finished. He hoped she had the tact to avoid placing him in that position. He was uncomfortable enough as it was.
”You asked for a second chance,” he said. ”Under less extenuating circumstances. And here we are.” Here they were indeed, in a mountain lodge on an unfamiliar planet which laughed in the face of destiny. ”Should we not take it?”
[attr=class,ooc-notes]
[attr=class,tagline]@ladyhilda
He wrote a letter then came to speak to her in person anyway lol
[attr="class","kuja-text"] To a canary, freed [break][break] It has taken me some time to find my voice in this letter. I have tried my hand at my usual poetics, and yet, such things have all fallen short of my true intent. Alas, I can think of few poems which express the full experience of reading one’s own post-mortem eulogy. Perhaps then I shall speak relatively maskless. If my words therefore lack their standard eloquence, I hope that you won’t take offense. [break][break] I am not one to apologize. In truth, there is very little in my life that – given the same circumstances and knowledge – I would not repeat even now. I will not apologize for returning you to Lindblum as it allowed me to pass along the secrets which I wished to share at just that moment, and I assume that it must have worked as Zidane’s crew journeyed where I wished them to shortly afterwards. I will not apologize, but I will admit that I operated under a misconception. [break][break] I had a secondary motive for your safe return. I thought that I was doing you a kindness. Apparently, in this, I was mistaken. [break][break] I remember the day that we met. It was pure chance that I happened upon your husband’s airship while you were in the process of stealing it away. Such novel technology – exactly what I needed – and almost perfectly unguarded too. It was as though fate itself had aligned in my path, and I would have been a fool not to seize it for myself. I wonder how the scene must have read from your perspective. Your ship, boarded while you were most vulnerable. The crew, slaughtered one by one and replaced by my mages. It must have seemed something out of a horror novel. Yet, when finally you came across my path, you were the image of sophistication and grace. You would not bow before me. You did not allow yourself to so much as tremble. Your eyes blazed with defiance even in the face of certain death. [break][break] I could not bring myself to extinguish that flame. [break][break] Your political ties gave me justification to spare you. Who was I to throw away potential leverage over the kingdom of Lindblum should my plans go awry? Certainly you would be of more use to me alive than dead, I thought, though that was not my only thought. You should know well by now that I care little for the lives of Gaians. I find your kind most predictable, and yet, you alone found a way to surprise me. [break][break] Your courage struck me first. It was neither reckless self-sabotage nor a kind of aimless rebellion. It was, rather, the courage to maintain one’s dignity in the face of subjugation. Upon navigation of our admittedly tense conversations, I found a sharp intelligence, an appreciation for the arts, and an ingenuity with the magical arts. The first time that you tried to transform me into an insect, I’ll admit that I was impressed. I had never seen such proficiency in transmodification before, and I longed to ask you for your methods. At the time, however, I had an image to uphold and so I refrained. [break][break] Perhaps you could instruct me should we stay in correspondence? I would offer a few tricks of my own trade in return, of course. [break][break] In truth, I was distinctly aware that you had become a liability. You had seen too much. You had discovered secrets that no Gaian was permitted to know. I knew that I should dispose of you, yet still I could not bring myself to the task. Had your light begun to fade under pressure, I think it would have been a simple matter, but despite it all, yours shined only brighter. Doubtless, you were aware of the precarity of your circumstances. At the time, I’d thought that your resolution must have been an active strategy for your survival. Now, I wonder if it was not a deeper characteristic of your soul. [break][break] I had taken it as a given that I was the greatest villain of your story, and that mine was your most restrictive cage. No matter how you still sang, I thought your voice nothing but resilience in the face of adversity. [break][break] Your planet was doomed. Your people had little time left. I knew all of this, and yet, I thought to spare you so that you could spend whatever time still remained living among them. You would not die by my hand – not directly, at least. [break][break] Truthfully, I’d assumed that had you found your station so stifling that you would simply do away with it again. Perhaps I’d sensed a kind of kindred spirit – both of us brought to life for the purposes of a system which sought to strip us of our will, both of us defiant in the cultivation of a magical power strengthened for our hearts alone. Your flame was not meant for the suffocating chains of marriage and servitude. [break][break] If you would hear the advice of a villain, why not break those chains? Should this strange twist of fate end and you wake in your castle as though this were naught but a dream, why not leave that city – not in retribution for your husband’s slights but only for your own sake? There is a wide world beyond those gates, prime for the taking. Gaia is a planet of equal parts prosperity and ruin, ripe with lore and legends and power long lost. A woman as intelligent and resourceful as yourself should find it fascinating. [break][break] And should this dream never come to an end, my advice remains much the same. You have power. Use it for your own means. Do not let others try to put you in your place. Remain resolute. Demand that which is yours by right. Monetize your ingenuity, do not allow yourself to be swept aside, and you will make a name for yourself greater than any useless and unfaithful husband could provide you. [break][break] But these are only the words of the monster your kind so reviles. You need not heed them if they would not suit your needs. [break][break] I hope that I haven’t given cause for offense. [break][break] I realize that when you first penned your letter that you never intended that it should find its way to its intended recipient. In that way, it was likely far more intimate than you would have shared otherwise. As such, I’ve chosen to respond only to matters of circumstance rather than to your feelings of loss. [break][break] To that, I will only say that I had not expected that anyone – let alone a Gaian to whom I had caused such grievance – would ever mourn me. [break][break] It gave me great cause for thought. Had your time spent in captivity loosened your grip on reality? Or is some fundamental part of my perception flawed? I might never know the answer. Perhaps you may never know it either. [break][break] Enclosed with this letter, I’ve included an emblem of my own design. When given to your messenger bird, it will set its course to a predetermined site outside the city of Torensten which I will check at irregular intervals. I have no expectation that you will reply. Was your letter not simply a catharsis, something to put to paper and then, when given the chance, to set free? However, should you wish to start a correspondence, I would have few objections. [break][break] With this emblem, I am gifting you a certain level of trust. While I have taken precautions, I am not unaware that this bird could lead one to my future location, thus placing me in a disadvantageous situation. It is my precaution that you do not use this token against me. While I have no interest in enacting violence towards those who opposed me on Gaia, I will act without mercy should I be forced to defend myself. As such, I think it best that certain parties never discover our correspondence – for their sake as well as my own. [break][break] You claimed a desire to share the dawn of your future. They were words spoken for the dead, but I cannot help my interest regardless. Tell me of the beauty of your world and of your place within it. Tell me of your passions, your desires, and that which I never had a chance to see for myself. You claim that the world is rebuilding. I wonder what will become of it now. [break][break] I shall await your answer. [break][break] Sincerely,[break] Your Lord Sorcerer
Hilda’s voice was surprised. Taken aback, certainly, but there was no fear in it. Kuja had half suspected that she would jump from her chair, hands over her mouth, eyes wide to stare at him as though he might hurt her. Instead, she simply said his name and looked at him. He watched her eyes sweep over him and his unusual dress. What would she think of it? More importantly, what would she think of his tail?
Her gaze caught on it, sweeping uneasily across the floor, and then she looked away. She said nothing.
Her cheeks reddened, however. He wondered why.
After a long moment, she stood to face him with her hand placed at her heart. ”Of course you are not interrupting,” she said. She waved towards the chairs with a smile. ”Please, join me. We have much to discuss.”
Kuja didn’t know why he was surprised. Had she not acted exactly as welcoming on their last meeting? But that had been a meeting of chance, and despite reading her most guarded secrets, he still had the impression that she’d acted in some way on self preservation. This time he had sought her out. She had no reason to trust that his intentions were benign, and yet…
She returned to her seat as casually as though they were old friends. What had he expected?
He silently approached and took the chair angled beside her. Sitting wasn’t terribly uncomfortable in his new outfit. Gone were the sharp edges and unnatural bulk of his usual violet armor. Instead, he was left with merely fabric, and somehow that left him feeling more exposed. Kuja carefully placed his tail beside him so that he wouldn’t sit on it. The irritable thing flicked idly from where it hung off the edge.
”I chose to test its functionality before I trusted it with something as private as a letter sent to who knew where. It could have crashed into the mountainside or straight into an enemy’s hands.”
He felt…strange. Closed off, he supposed, in a way that was unusual for him. He was never open with his feelings – never truly honest with anyone but himself, but even so, this was worse somehow. He couldn’t place his finger on it.
Hilda offered him a drink. He accepted with an impassive, ”Why not?” It was strange that she would think of him in such a way, but he supposed it must have been natural. Just as he’d been raised to destroy, she’d been raised to please. Such was the price of nobility.
He felt as though he should say something – or perhaps several somethings – but he’d come on a whim and he didn’t have a speech prepared. Perhaps he should have. His whim had lasted several days of travel, but he hadn’t really expected to come inside to face her. For once, he didn’t have a plan.
”I read your letter,” he said finally. ”It was…eloquent.”
