Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
at adventu, we believe that colorful story and plots far outweigh the need for a battle system. rp should be about the writing, the fun, and the creativity. you will see that the only system on our site is the encouragement to create amazing adventures with other members. welcome to adventu... how will you arrive?
year 5, quarter 3
Welcome one and all to our beautiful new skin! This marks the visual era of Adventu 4.0, our 4th and by far best design we've had. 3.0 suited our needs for a very long time, but as things are evolving around the site (and all for the better thanks to all of you), it was time for a new, sleek change. The Resource Site celebrity Pharaoh Leep was the amazing mastermind behind this with minor collaborations from your resident moogle. It's one-of-a-kind and suited specifically for Adventu. Click the image for a super easy new skin guide for a visual tour!
Final Fantasy Adventu is a roleplaying forum inspired by the Final Fantasy series. Images on the site are edited by KUPO of FF:A with all source material belonging to their respective artists (i.e. Square Enix, Pixiv Fantasia, etc). The board lyrics are from the Final Fantasy song "Otherworld" composed by Nobuo Uematsu and arranged by The Black Mages II.
The current skin was made by Pharaoh Leap of Pixel Perfect. Outside of that, individual posts and characters belong to their creators, and we claim no ownership to what which is not ours. Thank you for stopping by.
When Zenos made the offer, well, one would perhaps expect Alex to emphatically deny it. Instead, he went silent for a moment. Well, he hadn't asked it. Zenos had offered. So, technically... this wouldn't be on him. And well, if it came down to a fight between Dragelion and Zenos... Well, shit happens, right? The possibility that this could all be done and dusted within a day or two occurred to him, and the silence went on for a couple more moments. He shook his head. "No, he doesn't have a prayer of success." He bluntly stated. No, when it came down to him against Caius, Alex had no real doubt who would be the victor of such a bout. The odds were too stacked in his favor. Perhaps it was the same cockiness that got him Octaslashed, but this one he felt more confident about.
He leaned back a little as he explained. "He's a Kingsglaive from another world. I've been one briefly, so I have a decent idea of what he can and can't do." Unless he wasn't like other Kingsglaive, Alex. The literal dragon he had may have hinted at that. "He doesn't know a thing about me unless Cassandra's blabbed and told him everything." There was a brief pause, the wheels turning before he sighed, leaned forward, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Cassandra has definitely told him everything." She almost certainly told Caius all his tricks. Probably to get into the good graces of the Dragonblades or some other ridiculous reason. He could see that, easily. Whatever. Fine. Let that traitor be the traitor she always was. "Doesn't matter, Dragelion isn't really a threat to my continued existence either way." He huffed instead. "Though I guess if he tries to start shit and you're there, have at it." That was a good compromise, right?
Then he remembered; would Zenos even know who Cassandra was? It didn't seem like him to keep a memory of all the others that were around him at times. "Right, Cassandra was the tall blonde woman. Basically, things got mildly inconvenient, and she immediately ran off to join the Dragonblades without a word, leaving me with a destroyed guild hall." At least Sephiroth had tried to make it right. But at least this time he left out the dog. "As for you... who actually has taken you up on your offer of a fight?" Really, Zenos remarking earlier that he couldn't get anything made sense. Bloody look at him. You'd have to be mad, a fool, or extremely confident in yourself to look at the guy and go "yeah I can handle that."
He just wanted to talk. He wanted stories. Alex blinked for a moment, before he mouthed a familiar obscenity that he would have gotten out had he not choked on his espresso. "I... what?" He finally managed to get out. Okay, he really had to be following Alisae's advice. Gods, he'd never hear the end of this, would he? He could just see her crowing triumphant over it all. "Are you...?" Serious? By the Gods, he was actually serious. Alex looked Zenos up and down, waiting for the trick before hesitantly taking a seat. The tension began to slowly dissipate as it looked like there would be no altercation. Alex definitely owed Sephiroth an apology the next time he saw him, was this seriously how it was when they first met?
Gods, he really was like Zenos.
Slumping into a chair, still almost expecting something, he exhaled. "Where do I even start..." He breathed, drumming fingers along the table in a rhythm. Might as well just be honest about it, right? What was Zenos gonna do? "Well, I've been burning bridges, running a failing guild, butting heads with the world's most sanctimonious man-whore, and receiving the memories of a previous incarnation like an ice pick to my brain." The last one was the weird one. He'd offer up an accounting of what Delita Heiral was actually like, considering his almost mythical status to Garlemald, but he also knew that Zenos gave absolutely zero fucks about cultural history and the like. He'd love to tell it to Varis though, watch the old man choke in rage.
Alex crossed one leg over the other, folding his arms. "At least the guild is slowly coming back. You should meet Sephiroth. You'd like him. He's the one guy I've met with blade work to match yours. Has a real stick up his ass, though." He imagined that the only time Sephiroth would ever get that stick out of his ass would be only to bludgeon people with it. Hell, maybe Zenos could actually get the guy to lighten up a little. Enjoy life a little. There was a pause for a moment as he racked his brain for something. "Also, I helped with a prison break in Sonora and said world's most sanctimonious man-whore is likely gonna try to assassinate me, I guess." He wondered if that'd even made the news. He supposed it depended on whether that place was supposed to be top secret or not. Things always got murky when Sonora was involved.
Ah. So this was what it had been like to be in Sephiroth's shoes that day. Drinking a nice cup of coffee, only to be accosted by someone creepy and weird and fixated on potential violence. He would make a note to apologize to that Superhuman Freakazoid for the way he acted that day. Of course, there may have been a slight difference in that the man Alex dealing with was--well, no, Alex had been hounding the people who wrecked his shop. So, well, he figured he was probably a stalker in this mess, too. Yeah, it only took over a year and all, but at the last, karma was truly starting to have its fun with Alexander Sorel. "What the f-" He cut himself off as piping hot espresso went down his wind pipe, resulting in a coughing fit as he tried to realign everything that his life had become. How come no one else had to deal with crap like this? How come Cassandra got to go live a happy go lucky life with the dog?
It lasted for a moment; and he was up immediately, sword drawn, a spell of thunder in the other hand, summoned blades at the ready, the pain he had been experiencing shoved away in a box that could not reach him for the moment. What stood before Zenos was the Autumntide, the Beast he'd no doubt longed to face. Casting Loom, he was away from the table, he wouldn't be done in by something like that. Fire blazed within his amber eyes, a look that radiated lethal intent. They promised a fight to the death, a battle that would see his all brought to bear. For the mere guttering ember that Caius had witnessed in Sonora, this was the radiant blaze that burned beneath the refuse and rubbish of, well, Alex. Time passed in a phenomenon that both he and Zenos knew all too well. The Time between the Seconds, those brief instants when the world was shaken and history written. When creation itself held its breath.
The air itself changed, and people became anxious. Nervous whispers permeated the area as others began to slip away, hoping to avoid the worst of what was about to be the unfolding chaos. They escaped Alexander's notice. He was no fool, to divert his attention here could be a death sentence. Perhaps he could keep it limited enough that no real damage would be caused, and no one would needlessly perish. It would be due to collateral more than anything. With a target, Zenos had no reason to simply randomly kill others.
And yet nothing happened.
Time enough had passed to make it awkward. And Alex blinked a couple times. Ah, he figured it out. Zenos was probably just here to make fun of him for the sorry state he was in, no doubt. His weapon lowered, the spells and swords, vanishing as his arms sagged. "From the sounds of it, you've been here a while." He observed. How long, he had no idea. Long enough that he hadn't been looking, obviously. "Makes sense you've calmed down, I guess. This world is probably paradise for you." He sighed. Of course it would be. This world was filled with people like the two of them. Zenos undoubtedly had plenty to keep him entertained. Alex briefly contemplated just pointing him to the Dragonblades and letting that mess sort itself out. He dismissed it. He wasn't quite at the point where he actively wanted to see them wiped out, at least, and he had no doubt Zenos could manage that much.
"So, uh..." Alex started, and it became abundantly clear how out of his depth he was to not just be fighting Zenos, right now. "What have you been up to?" He couldn't help but ask.
The sun was blocked by the World Sight as it began its descent, leaving a slow chill in its wake. The tower in the distance said to look over all the land. It reminded him of the Crystal Tower back home. Well, mostly the Palace of the Dead. Or Heaven on High. Or Eureka Othros. Depending on whether what he heard was true or not. He watched it curiously, trying to make sense of its impossible shapes. His mind could only briefly wander to what possibly lay within. The surrounding area gave him an idea. Machines. Lots and lots of machines. But he could work with that, he'd dealt with much worse. The idea of fantasizing and day dreaming proved a decent enough distraction, at least when the plausible was in fact, in front of him. It reminded him of better days, when things were simpler and made more sense. You got a band together, went into some ancient place, and came out with a good story and maybe some good loot. The story was more important.
It would be the perfect place to take his mind off things. Perfect place for an adventure. Ragnabawk made a noise, clearly starting to get impatient. For all the grief Alex complained about, it was clear that Ragnabawk may as well have been a reflection of his master, and all that entailed. Alex at times still believed he should have given the bird something more dignified for a name. Like, Shadowfax, or Aslan, or something of that nature. Alas, Ragnabawk was something of a long running trend. He wondered how the cat was doing back home in Tural. At least Ragnabawk rolled off the tongue. Catfurdammewrung, not so much. Maybe they'd found a hunter that gave them a better name, too. And they got to go and have great adventures. Maybe that was what he needed, at the end of all this. Just fuck off and go on an adventure. It was what he was good at.
Just... who would he take with him? The thought brought a frown to his lips. That was the major issue; who would he even take with him? Would he just go himself? He'd done it before, back home. He'd made more than one trek through the Palace of the Dead on his own. He'd enjoyed the view in Heaven on High too much to go only once, and Eureka Othros, well, he didn't really need an excuse to ransack the Crystal Tower. And G'raha never seemed to mind. Rarely did the others want to come. Still, it was a lonely experience, when you didn't have someone to talk to by the campfire, and Ragnabawk was only ever one to argue when he was around.
All he could do at the moment was stare, for what seemed like hours to him. He finally heeded Ragnabawk and dismounted. Countless ideas fluctuated inside his head that, for a brief bit, Alex actually felt like himself again. Of course, that couldn't last, now could it?
Rather, Alex was drinking. Not booze, more just drinking a lot of expresso. Probably way more than was safe. But it made the pain go away, even if just a little. Caffeine was a miracle of the natural world; he believed. It was one of the only things that, back home, had made the resulting migraines of the Echo go away for a time, even if it did leave him a bit jittery at first. Here, well, the caffeine did help to an extent, to slightly lessen the pain that had been ever growing behind his eye. Every night brought more vivid visions. Still, it was never completely enough, so he would often get one cup. And then another. And then one more after that. And one more for good measure. His comrades had once told him that he should lay off the caffeine, saying that it resulted in weird thoughts, especially whenever he ran into that Minstrel.
Weird imaginations was worth the sweet relief.
His tolerance had long since reached the point that he didn't get the jitters. Mostly. Maybe a little anxious, but nothing beyond that. Nor did, well, no, it absolutely did impact his ability to sleep. But he was still biologically in his twenties. Louisoix made that entire thing a mess. But being in his twenties, that meant he was free to run his body into the ground and not experience consequences until at least his thirties, when it would begin with the dreaded back pain. He looked at his sword, and curled an armored fist. His lips thinned, still weighing whether or not he should just rip the band aid off and go deal with Yuna, regardless of whatever Dragelion felt. Part of him didn't want to make the situation worse than it already was. That was Fray. The other part of him was saying that Dragelion could go step on rakes. Plural. And if he had to take on the Dragonblades, so be it. He could do that.
Every day just made the situation worse, and he knew it.
Alex ordered another espresso. He wondered how much money he was throwing away with these trendy drinks. He could be back at the Stones, making his own. But that meant being alone, not that he wasn't already. But at least there were people around, and it felt like for a minute that he was normal and could be around others without turning the entire area into some social equivalent of a raging inferno. And the thought of that only served to sour his mood even further. Great.
Since meeting that Crystal Brave girl, the pounding behind his eye hadn't stopped but for the briefest of reprieves. What had started as a trickle over the months had recently since become a torrent overnight. Every night it was the same, more visions. By and large it was mostly involving Ramza, but one here or there involved people he had no idea of. He would wake up multiple times in the night, his head pounding, he would cast a Sleep spell on himself, and it would buy some time. And the visions returned. Serve. Save. Slave. Slay. Motions his yet not his. Beyond his ability yet so perfectly within his grasp. Every morning, when he would finally give up on sleep, it was the same. Roll over on a bare mattress, the covers thrown away simply to cool down from all the sweat, vomit up black ink all over the wooden floor, and clean it up by also vomiting pure, crystalline water all over that before simply balling it all together in a wad of aether of his making and tossing it out his still broken window.
Fray was right, and he hated it. Yet loved it. Part of him elated that it hadn't been the Echo, that it had never been the other way around. Hated it because of what it gave a portent of the future. And yet why should he be surprised? He had remembered the Endsinger when he was helping Noctis out--that simply brought on another wave of regret. After what he'd done to Prompto, he doubted Noctis wanted anything to do with him either and he had to admit that was smart--, but why would it surprise him when more would come rushing back to him? The answer of course was obvious, they were still the memories of Alexander Sorel, and not the memories of a man long dead, from an era long gone by. Of course the difference would be enough to throw him off. Flickers of other times were following were beginning to trickle. But at least now he had a name. Ethelbert. The name was Ethelbert. Pointless yet it awakened a primal feeling within. Recognition. Familiarity. Belonging. There was a common refrain in each of them; Serve. Save. Slave. Slay. It was always battle. It was always war. It was always violence.
He realized, the memories in combination with how awful he'd been to the others, one sore thing; war was the only thing he was good at. Breaking others was all he knew. It explained so much, how could it not? The sobering realization that he did not know of one incarnation that settled down and passed away in their bed bothered him. Serve. Save. Slave. Slay. It was always the same end. It was always the same life. It was little wonder that Cassandra left. Violence was all he knew, and he responded to any situation in the only way he knew how. He didn't know how much of that was him or Myste speaking.
He was collapsing, he knew it, and he was alone for it. He brought it on himself. He still had the self awareness to admit that much.
He forced himself to dress, and couldn't help but feel frustrated in just how difficult even such a basic task was to perform. By the time he'd finished, something that was to take only a couple minutes had taken the better part of an hour as he simply stared at nothing, trying to will the pain behind his eye to just go away. This was the second part, joy that it wasn't the Echo was replaced with a desire for it back, if only because the agony in his skull whenever the Echo reared itself wasn't as awful as this. And the Echo at least, had a few moments of warning before it hit. This didn't. He knew he had to get something in his stomach, but at the same time felt no appetite, and worried that anything he put down would just come back up. He moved, slowly, to another, dilapidated room in the Stones, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair a mess, his eyes bloodshot and baggy. He inhaled through his nose, and through sheer force of will, cast a glamour through the pain. His eyes returned to normal, as if he had rested well and long. He nodded his head, his reflection doing the same.
The pain faded, and for that, he was immeasurably relieved, but wondered if, or when, it would return. In the night like it preferred to? Maybe one would make itself known later, as it had begun to, as well. Relief was replaced by exhaustion, but he forced himself out to the front to what he imagined would simply be another empty day. He glanced at the walls, wondering if it would be better to simply call it quits on the place. He forced himself to think of the Dragonblades, hoping that some rivalry would fuel him, absurd as it was. It worked, to an extent. It reminded him of Caius's threat to "do his job." He inhaled, looking at the door, as he knew that a confrontation with them would be inevitable. Caius would come to do his job, likely with others at his back, and that job would be simple assassination. He wondered if then he'd at least see Cassandra again. Probably.
He must not run. He would not run. He didn't know his odds, but he would take as many of them with him as he could should that day come.
He went in the back briefly, brewed himself some coffee, guzzling the pot, and brewing another, letting the caffeine try and bring him back to some semblance of vigilance. He exhaled, doing his best to center himself. He placed his hands on a table out front, taking his seat, waiting for the door for something, anything, to give him something to focus on.
Things continued to not add up. Yes, she listed some names he had supposedly forgotten, but then others that should not have been. Though that only served to strengthen his belief she was just a Crystal Brave. The situation with Minfilia in particular was tricky; she hadn't died because of that banquet. Listing Haurchefant caused him to raise an eyebrow. Ah, so that's what she was doing. She was just throwing names out there to claim he had forgotten them, regardless of their relation to the Crystal Braves. Ysayle, Gosetsu, Conrad. All names he knew, but in no way fallen by the machinations of Alphinaud's failed company. He snorted. It felt kind of like dealing with a child, called out on their fibs, throwing a tantrum hoping that would get the adults in the room to acquiesce to their demands. It never worked, and in the end, the child usually learned that throwing tantrums was not the way you got what you wanted.
She said she would kill him. Alex didn't say anything. Maybe she knew that the game was up, and figured that she'd just take her chances. He wondered briefly, what her plan even was if she somehow, against all odds, managed it. Would she try and say that she was in fact the Warrior of Light like others had? He gave it a thought, and the swords appeared poised, ready to strike and skewer at a moment's notice. But it never really came. In the end, it looked like all the girl had was a moment of rage that seemed almost to immediately subside. She dropped her spear to the ground and seemed to just completely break down, sobbing about Zenos. Ah, his sympathies there. Dealing with Zenos was never pleasant. Really, it was a mark of fortune she yet lived. Right, there was no further point to all of this. This had been nothing more than a waste of time, a distraction that had kept him from the real issue.
"Forget it." He remarked as the swords around him vanished. She was broken, a fight now would have no point or any meaning, and even he didn't have it in him to strike down someone who was so completely in their own grief. Nevermind that he had bigger fish to fry right now, before Dragelion got involved. Silversnake remained in its sheath as he stepped towards the door, moving past the broken girl, as he put his foot on the spear. It wouldn't do to have her try and make a quick swipe as he got close. "Make a move or don't, Crystal Brave. In the end it makes no difference to me." And with that, his foot left the spear, and he attempted to simply move past her and leave the Rising Stones. Yuna and Shiva needed to be dealt with, before Dragelion got involved, because he knew the man would just dive in front of any attack meant for Shiva. Probably with an overly drawn out "No."
Alex said nothing. That wasn't normal. No, it was never normal for Alex to simply sit and listen, now was it? Instead he waited, let her vent, let her rant, let her tell her little story. He kept his breathing even. Too many things wrong, too many details missed, too many things that simply didn't add up. Especially with her trying to act like she was him. She wasn't the first, and he was starting to wonder if she'd be the last. Were people from his world now arriving in droves, trying to claim what he'd bled for, for themselves? To make their lives easier? It was the only way, but then she demanded answers, threw a fit. And then he finally spoke. He forced his rage down, not smothering it, but not letting it explode, either. That, he figured, would be coming in the next few minutes.
The crystalline swords floated around him, spinning and twirling in a circle as if anticipating some measure of attack. "I only hear me me me. Never those your kind made to suffer." Only what she had been through, what she had suffered, and even then, things didn't add up. It didn't take him three years. He gingerly touched one of his arms. "Raubahn lost an arm." Before he moved it to his heart. "Papalymo lost his life." Because he wasn't strong enough to fight Shinryu then. It didn't matter if he was now, being strong enough now didn't bring Papalymo back. "And you're a child if you think Ala Mhigo deserved their fate." That was what she meant by Imperial Rule, no? She talked of her own suffering, never considering what it was like to be so utterly kicked into the ground that you gave up hope of rising back up. Even if he never agreed with the Ala Mhigans, he understood why they felt that way. Why Lyse had so much trouble.
He exhaled sharply, golden eyes boring into her. This was going to be a fight, he had a feeling. Fine, so be it. "The fucking nerve of you people coming in and claiming to be me. You come in here spouting lies and half truths, taking credit you deserve none of." They missed important details. They always missed important details. She was a distraction in the end, something to take care of on the way to the real problem. "I was going to deal with Yuna first, but if I have to tear you limb from limb on the way there, fine." She was likely one of Ilberd's, burned by his madness, now trying to capitalize on what she could. "Make your first shot count, Crystal Brave." Because he would do everything he could to make sure she wouldn't get a second.
Valhalla weighed heavily on his back, another battle won with blood and steel. His armor's color kept the blood from showing, and he'd wash it off in a nearby stream later. The blackening he'd had done when he'd had the armor forged would help prevent rust. But the battle had meaning. Their commander did not rush into conflict without some measure of purpose, and for that, ▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅ was grateful.
It was a brief respite, Elidibus awaited, and Ultima thereafter, and as Lord Beoulve approached him, obviously with something to say, ▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅ took to one knee for the lord he'd sworn fealty to.
Alex awoke on his matress, golden orbs staring listlessly at the ceiling. A mess would be an understatement. His fingers gingerly touched his forehead. Those dreams again. It was a strange phenomenon, the more sense the dreams themselves made, the less sense it made to him in the greater picture. They'd been occuring more often since that whole Sonora shitshow. And once again that entire night played through his mind in rapid succession, bringing the feelings of outrage, guilt, shame, anger all with it. And with it, came that nagging voice of Esteem, Fray, the Shadow, whatever one wished to call it.
You lament your words, wishing you could go back.
Him again. Alex had gotten used to the quiet, but recent events had brought that voice back. He'd honestly thought he'd managed to move past that. He felt stiff, forcing himself up as he sat at the side of his bed. Maybe if he just ignored Esteem, then it would go away. The part of him that deemed itself the ruthless pragmatist, the side that looked out for him when he'd been out being a hero back home. It sounded like him this time. More than once, the voice was different. It sounded like the dream. Were they connected, then?
But if such things were possible, you wouldn't have a broken shield, now would you?
His lips curved further downward. He'd heard that before, reminding him of Haurchefant was a dull knife at this point. All that meant is it was just slower to twist in. "If you're not going to explain those dreams, then fuck off. I don't need you on top of everything else." But he did. Oh, he needed Fray. Or whoever would occasionally take Fray's place. And Fray made that clear.
Your mind is in a more precarious state than it's been in a long time.
Alex snorted, covering his eyes as he draped an arm over them. What a stupid thing to say. "An argument with Dragelion and Prompto, people I barely knew, doesn't carry nearly the weight Haurchefant's death does." He'd never bring it up in an argument with other people. Let the dead have their peace. Arguing with himself though, that was fair game. Fray, he, had all the knowledge he did.
The magnitude is irrelevant. Even a straw can break an Amaro's back. It's an argument that's left you alone and ashamed. Apologize, talk to them, and ask for their forgiveness. Ask for their help.
Alex chose to dismiss the comment as stupid. Just as stupid as the suggestion. He was no fool. Neither would hear anything from him out, much less accept it, much less actually help him. That was a waste of time and effort. And Fray was supposed to be the self styled reasonable one, the one with common sense. Instead, he chose to divert the topic. "Like I said, if you won't explain the dreams, then fuck off." Again, it was a command.
You know what they are. You've known since the moment you saw Cloud. Alex couldn't fucking believe he was arguing with Fray on this.
Bullshit he did. That was the Echo, yeah? That's what he'd figured, anyway. Figured it was just Cloud's memories. Strife. He'd kick his ass once he dealt with Yuna. Now he had a name. A face. And he even knew the man. A groan from Alex as he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Just fuck off."
A pause. Followed by I love you more than you'll ever know. Be well.
And then he had blessed silence. He forced himself to get dressed. He looked at his armor. He had to deal with Yuna first. He sighed again. Caius said he'd handle it and get back to him. On the flip side, things were already beyond repair with Caius. So what did it matter? Just take out Yuna and be done with it. It's what Esteem, or Fray, or whoever, would have argued for anyway. The next few minutes saw him don his armor as he grabbed Silversnake. He'd just get some coffee in him, head on out, and solve this Shiva problem. He got it brewed quickly enough, taking a seat out in the front, looking at the dilapidated Stones that were slowly getting repaired. What had been the goddamned point of it all? A life as Alex was impossible, what was the point of even running this place, then? A brief thought of burning it down occurred to it, before he dismissed it. Sephiroth worked here. Alex was why he had an income. Regardless of how cold Sephiroth could be, Alex didn't see him as a bad guy, and at least it was one relationship that wasn't a crater by his own handiwork.
For Sephiroth's sake, he'd keep the place open, he told himself. He looked at the book, getting ready to stand up and cross out Noctis's and Prompto's name, but at the same time just didn't have the energy. As he sat himself back down instead, he took another sip of his coffee. He just needed to wake up is all. Get his system running and get to work. Yes, that was it. Just one step at a time. Coffee. Then work.
And then he got his jolt of energy as someone burst through the door. Instinct and adrenaline started pumping, and the crystalline swords of Fleche and Contre Six appeared behind him. He wouldn't use Abyssal Transfixion. Not yet at least. She was younger than him. Shouted names he knew, but it wasn't a face he recognized. What stood out to him was how many names she was missing, yet spoke with familiarity all the same. She hadn't been one of the Scions. Not current, nor any of the ones that Livia had massacred, returned to life. That left another possibility, one that had him seeing red. Or blue, considering the context of the situation. "Is that how it is?" He snarled, his voice a whisper as he stood up. "You think you can frame us for regicide then just come in all cheery like nothing happened, Crystal Brave?!" The nagging feeling at the back of his mind remained. He didn't recognize her as one of them either. At least as long as he'd been around. She may have come in after they were forced ro run. "Should've brought the entire godsdamned company. I'd happily wipe you all out!" He was raring to go. He wouldn't flee again.
Alex didn't react. Well, he did, but he mostly furrowed his brow. Why was Caius spilling his life story to him? Why, after all this, was Caius going on about his childhood and how terrible it was? Stop that. There was a part of him that instinctively, wanted to reach out and try to comfort him, to tell him that as terrible as it had been, there had been a light at the end of the tunnel, and he'd managed to make it there. There was a part of him that wanted to say he understood. Well, not exactly. His parents were still alive and he'd been an only child, and his mother making him hunt monsters didn't come close to qualifying, even if her expecting him to bring down that lightning shooting gorilla was a tall order. But he got the trauma, even if it came later, he understood it. The urge to help was there, and he suffocated it immediately. No, he wouldn't show weakness now, so Caius could just take the chance to rub it back in his face. He wouldn't allow it.
But what bothered him was that it was making it that much harder to actually hate Caius when the guy was spilling his guts to Alex. It's easier to be an ass when the guy you're being an ass to is just some smarmy asshole. Alex hardened his gaze, forced himself to. He sneered at Caius in disgust. It's easier to be disgusted. Easier than dealing with shame. Again. If he had to choose between the two, he'd roll with disgust. That didn't always work, though. Mainly because that opened the door to feeling disgust with himself. He focused it again at Caius. Here he was, going off about his trauma. Alex wouldn't roll with it. "It's not a dick measuring contest. Let the dead have their peace." Did one see Alex going on about how horrible he felt about the tragedies that had befallen him? No, no he wouldn't. No matter what, he wouldn't stoop that low. Wouldn't use the dead as a bargaining chip. Let them have their peace.
He didn't know who this Light was, or why they were so precious to Caius. He also didn't care. Caius looked lost. Well and truly lost, like his world was crumbling. Alex said nothing. If one tragedy was enough to do it, then Caius would have to learn fast. This would be his life. One blow after another. And every fucking time, everyone would look to you to just get up, to dust yourself off like you'd merely stumbled and keep going on. To do the impossible again and again and again, knowing full well that one error could mean the end of everything you cared about, and everyone would make sure to remind you of it every single time. They'd say this in the same breath as cheerily sending you off, as if they were sending you on a merry errand and not asking you to do the impossible once again. If Caius didn't learn to roll with that, his star would burn out long before it'd ever shine. "Asshole." He muttered under his breath as Caius shambled away, and he looked down at the ground. It was hard to tell if he directed it at himself or Caius.
