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.
This is much better than the alternative, in Angeal's mind xD
Time ticked by, and still, no one came to Angeal’s table.
He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or offended. No, he was most definitely relieved, the Soldier thought as he took another sip of his nearly-drained whiskey. People watching was only entertaining for a short while, and soon his attention was pulled from the giggles and clinks of glasses to the window; watching as small, glowing bugs occasionally buzzed nearby. A part of him longed for the contact of others, to speak and laugh and get to know someone new, to maybe help someone in trouble. Yet, a voice in the back of his head whispered ruefully, they would never understand you.
Hewley shook the thought away, tapping his fingers on the table. For quite some time, the only interaction he had was with the bartender, who’d stepped forward and given him a fresh drink and a nod -- likely acknowledging his pitiful predicament. Angeal accepted the fresh whiskey and went back to staring out of the window, stuck with only his thoughts for company for yet another evening.
Or, so he’d thought.
“Angeal?”
The Soldier whipped his head back to the bar, his eyes wide and gloved hands perched on the edge of the table. It’d been a long time since he’d heard anyone say his name without him having to share it, first. The alarm bells didn’t stop, however, once he saw who’d stepped up to his table. If anything, Angeal’s heart began to pound faster.
A well-fitted black suit, complete with a perfectly placed tie. Atop the shades of neutral colors was a splash of fiery red hair, and a set of curious brown eyes. A glass placed carefully on the table; an unspoken demand.
A Turk? Here?
Angeal stared hard for a moment, recalling everything he could about the Turks he’d recently worked with. While the two departments regularly shared missions together, everyone was well aware of the unspoken tension between them. Soldiers and Turks operated completely differently -- that was the point of course -- but it meant that they often had difficulties understanding one another. The Turks were all about trickery and secrets, while Soldier was … Well, much more open and blunt. A Turk was a box of mysteries. For Soldier’s, what you saw was what you got. There wasn’t anything left to the imagination.
Either way, seeing one or the other usually meant trouble for whoever they were approaching. Especially if they were together.
However, at their core, the two of them were just people. People with different purposes and ideals, but still, people. The red-head gave him a smile, and Angeal easily returned it. Cold hesitation still seized his shoulders, but it was giving way to an emotion he hadn’t quite expected. Familiarity. Here stood someone that had walked the very same land he had. Someone who knew him, even if he didn’t really know her.
“My apologies. This was the last place I thought to see you. Looking for a little company, I suppose?”
The Turk slid her way into the seat across from him, her tantalizing drink following suit. Angeal tapped a finger against his own glass, relaxing his other hand off of the edge of the table to sit back as far as his form would allow.
“You could say that,” the Soldier answered in kind, a small, honest smile on his face. He was no Turk, hardly capable of lying. He wore his heart on his sleeve, much less loudly than Zack did, but nonetheless; Angeal was nothing but an honest man. There was no sense in lying to the champion of liars who likely had a profile of him memorized.
Hewley took a hefty sip of his whiskey, before gesturing at the rest of the bar with a glowing eyed glance, “Desperate times call for desperate measures. I think this is the first time I’ve spoken to another human in a week.” He laughed quietly, low, barely shaking his head.
“Cissnei, right? Are you here for work? Something tells me, even on an unknown world, the Turks never stop working.”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
There he was, running, pacing, screaming once more.
How many times had he gone through this, now? It always started with Genesis, his friend’s back turned to him, shrouded in darkness. Every time Angeal took a step forward, reaching out to him, Genesis moved further away. No matter how fast he ran, his childhood friend always stayed out of reach. He was desperate to catch him -- why, he wasn’t sure -- but not being able to reach him distressed him beyond belief. Always, Angeal was left behind, exhausted and sweating, his voice weak from trying to reach Genesis in the distance. With every blink the red-head grew further and further away, until he was gone, lost in the night-time sky.
Sephiroth came next, always. Angeal turned to look at his dear friend, shocked and sickened by the man’s appearance. His cat-like eyes were empty and catatonic, staring into nothingness, his face stoic and frozen; much how he seemed when they’d first met. However, what was so frightening was the rest of his being -- Sephiroth appeared starved, weak and frail, lungs barely drawing in breath after breath as he struggled to stay on his feet. His dark coat hung off of his shoulders, draping his too-thin frame in darkness. This time, when Angeal reached for his friend, it wasn’t Sephiroth who moved further away; it was Angeal himself. As the Soldier attempted to step forward and embrace his friend, he moved backwards. Panicked, he tried again and again, yet it was always the same result. The more he moved, the further he grew from his friend.
When he went too far, Sephiroth disappeared; his body seemingly turning to ash, and scattering in the wind.
He was already hurt, so hurt moving into the finale. Angeal’s heart screamed, beating erratically as he fell to the ground, silence enveloping his senses. The sky above him was dark, twinkling so innocently with stars. He couldn’t move. Not a muscle, not a sound -- here, he was nothing but a witness that couldn’t close his eyes. Above him was Zack, but not the happy-go lucky young man Angeal adored. The young Soldier’s cheek was bleeding profusely as he fell to his knees at Angeal’s side, tears dripping heavily from his lashes as he let out an anguished scream. The droplets, red and clear combined, fell harshly against Angeal’s face. He’d never heard such a wail in his life -- as if Zack’s life and spirit were being torn from his very body.
Angeal knew he had to comfort the kid. He had to apologize. I’m sorry, Zack, I shouldn’t have done this to you -- I shouldn’t have --, but the words never came to his stilled, frozen lips. His hands never moved, despite how strongly he wanted to comfort his pupil.
All of the pain and anguish swirled, threatening to consume him until the end of time itself. A part of him silently accepted the punishment.
Another part of him grew stronger each time, crying out against the dying of the light.
Angeal sat up suddenly, gasping for air. The air was no longer freezing around him but warm and stuffy and humid. The dark sky was replaced by a muted dimness, the twinkling stars fading away to a rough, stone rooftop. The Soldier clutched the rough, burlap texture underneath of his bare skin, breathing heavily, willing and failing to bring his heart rate back to normal. His pulse pounded in his ears as everything slowly sunk back in, as normalcy dragged itself back from the depths of hell.
It was a nightmare, Hewley told himself as the sweat dripped off the tip of his nose, only a nightmare.
He pulled himself away from his makeshift bed, a sorry cushion of cotton rags and burlap sacks, dragging himself wearily to his feet. Angeal moved slowly to the far side of the room, swaying with his steps, his skin soaked in sweat and his pulse finally beginning to slow. Attached to the wall nearby was a small mirror, reflecting the glow of the Soldier’s blue eyes as he stared himself down. He looked the same as he always had, aside from his chin being a little fuzzier than normal and the dark circles underneath his eyes. With each passing night he slept less and less soundly, chased by nightmares … or some mental demons.
That, combined with the intense pain in his back, would have kept anyone from sleeping soundly at night.
Angeal sighed, watching in the mirror as he touched his own face, rubbing under his eyes with his fingers before slicking back his sweat soaked hair. He grabbed a worn towel that was resting on a nearby countertop -- it was too early for the water to be turned on, he reminded himself blearily as he patted the sweat on his chiseled body dry. He grabbed his uniform top, sliding it over his skin that felt so cold, yet blazing hot.
He glanced out of the window, noting the subtle hues of pink and orange that began to paint the bottom of the sky. The sun was beginning to rise, and with it, the sounds of people outside of their homes began to buzz in the air. The Soldier had found himself wandering into the desert town a week prior; out of supplies and exhausted. He was nearly free of the clutches of the oppressive dunes, but the town had offered him respite for as long as necessary in exchange for clearing out some pesky monsters. It was beyond easy work for a First Class Soldier, Hewley realized as the days passed with a few boring battles here and there, but he was more exhausted than he thought. Tired, dazed, and confused.
“Enough,” Angeal mumbled, securing the magnetic strap behind his back, unsure exactly who or what he was talking to. The nightmares needed to stop, but instead, they progressively got worse and worse. He was sick of it. Tired of spending every night chasing his friends, and waking up with an insane amount of pain in his back.
The Buster Sword sat innocently against the wall -- one shining beacon in an otherwise dark world for Angeal. He grabbed it, savoring the weight as he held it high, pressing his forehead against the cool metal and mumbling a silent prayer. It was too bad he couldn’t use the sword to fight away the nightmares.
Next to his bed pile sat Angeal’s affects; a travel pack and map, supplies of water canteens and non-perishable foods, the couple of materia that had managed to follow him into the strange, new world. His collection was just about large enough for him to comfortably take his leave and return to a life on the road. Another day or so and he’d be set to leave, provided he could get more than a few hour’s worth of sleep. The Soldier grumbled wearily, swinging his precious sword to his back. No sense in pretending he was going to get any more rest. Once the sun peeked over the horizon, it would become unbearably warm.
Angeal turned to leave, before something caught his eye in the semi-darkness. A feather, long and white, lay on the floor at his feet. A few others followed from his previous steps, all dropped in various spots around the room. The Soldier narrowed his eyes at them, before leaning down to collect them all and shove them into his pocket. That was another problem that seemed to be following him -- a collection of feathers, white as snow. He never caught them falling off of his person, but … where else could they be coming from? Or, maybe they were a figment of his imagination?
Exhausted and grumpy, Angeal found it hard to care.
Instead, he snuck down the creaking old stairs, best he could considering his size, and swiftly out of the door of the home he’d been graciously allowed to stay in. The owner, an older man who’d lost his son to the beasts in the desert, had welcomed him in all too quickly. Angeal was a weary traveler who needed a break but was willing to go cut through monsters like paper, and the man was a lonely sort who’d lost his son and didn’t want anyone else to suffer the same. It worked, for now.
Outside, the world was slowly coming to life. Among the sand the traders were beginning to set up their stalls; placing goods of all sorts in baskets and lining them up neatly. Farmers were headed toward the nearby river to tend to their crops, nearly ready for harvest. The merchant town was an oasis of a sort -- still tucked away in the desert, but bordering the river that separated it from the bridge that led west, toward the Crystallus Divider, whatever that was. A well used travel path, people of all sorts came and went before venturing north or west. Only the truly manic wanted to go east, further into the dunes.
Still distracted from his recurring nightmares, Angeal simply let his boots lead the way for now. It would be another hour or so before he would find work, most likely, and so he let his feet carry him wherever they wished for now. He followed the wide path away from the markets, heading toward the river and the bridge that led west. The sun barely began to peek up over the distant horizon in the east, warming the Soldier’s back as he shoved his gloved hands into his pockets, eyes downcast. He heard the occasional footstep in the vicinity, but otherwise, the world seemed still.
A peaceful atmosphere, so very different from the swirling chaos inside of him.
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
The man sighed; less heavily than he should have, considering he’d been found unconscious in the extreme elements. Instead, it sounded more like the entire last hour had been an inconvenience rather than a life or death situation, his voice calm and regal. What Angeal did recognize, however, was the way the man’s face shifted into one of visible confusion and concentration, as if trying to retrace his steps backwards through an elegant dance rather than what had happened to him over the last several hours.
He’d done the very same tango, hadn’t he? Trying to remember what came before, and what was supposed to come next.
Yet, when the man spoke, the Soldier found he couldn’t recognize most of what the man was saying. The only word that made any sense in his recollections was Bahamut -- but the only Bahamut Angeal was aware of was a dragon that could be summoned with materia, in dire circumstances. Certainly not a sky fortress. Was something like that even possible? Shinra had built a giant city up on plates, so maybe it wasn’t such a farfetched idea.
What was most intriguing about the man’s one-sided revelation was the way he seemed to space out for a moment. Lost in thought, as if the path between his former memories and his new ones was broken along the way. Angeal frowned, readjusting himself as he propped an elbow on top of his knee. How long had he been here, now, but felt the same way when trying to look back on his life before this strange world? The last thing he could remember was a meeting … prepping for an excursion to Wutai, maybe.
He probably wasn’t the best person to welcome someone else into this new, strange world. But, he wasn’t presented with much of a choice. If he had information that could help someone else, well, it was his duty to pass it along.
Soldiers were meant to help people.
“Please, forgive me. I have not formally introduced myself,” the long haired man returned Angeal’s cautious smile, “I am Vayne Carudas Solidor, patriarch of House Solidor, and Emperor of Archadia.... But, I suppose the usual decorum is rather moot here.”
Well, that’s a mouthful.
“Can’t say I’ve ever met an Emperor before,” Angeal replied, his deep voice humored at least as he eyed the man -- Vayne -- with an eyebrow raised, “Normally I’d offer to memorize your title in order to make sure you’re comfortable … But, I’d say this is far from normal circumstances for either of us.”
A bead of sweat dripped its way down from the Soldier’s hairline as he spoke, a reminder of the unfriendly environment they were both trapped in. The wind whipped against their sandstone structure, threatening to stir up the sand under their bodies. Thankfully the gust passed, and for another moment they were safe from dirt raining down upon them from the high windows. Angeal’s friendly smile slowly dropped from his features as his eyes glanced up at the structure, taking in the lack of scenery as the warmth continued to seep far too deep into his bones -- the words tumbling in his head, as he tried to decide the best way to tell a stranger that he was likely no longer home.
Angeal reached into his pocket, gloved fingers grasping the worn map he’d been referring to for weeks now. The words splashed across it were still as foreign as they had been the first time he’d looked at it, but the Soldier’s familiar scrawl over the paths he’d traveled were real as they could be.
“I … may have some idea, as to where you are,” Hewley grimaced, feeling that particular phrase wasn’t quite right for what he was trying to imply, “Does the name Serentestra sound, in any way, familiar to you?”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
Angeal watched with a silent awe as the man he’d found unconscious in the desert began to move of his own accord. A gloved hand reached to meet his own, carefully grasping the lid of the canteen from his grip. The Soldier let it go, keeping a wary eye on the man as he brought the source of water to his lips, carefully drinking every drop. Moments ago, the man had been nothing but an unconscious lump -- a real one, as Angeal was well aware of what a person faking unconsciousness looked like. How many times had Zack tried to pull that stunt on him during a particularly difficult training regimen?
The man extended his hand, returning the now empty cap. Angeal took it, his eyebrows furrowing as he screwed it back onto the canteen. Though his own body ached for water, he knew well that he would continue to survive with the bare minimum. There was no need to work through his supply quickly, especially if he would be traveling with another person. The stranger he’d picked up in the desert seemed to be quickly regaining his strength, but that did not make him a modified Soldier, capable of surviving the harsh elements.
The stranded stranger spoke, his face stoic and his voice unstrained, “I extend to you my deepest gratitude, ser.”
Ser? That was a new one. The man’s entire manner of speech seemed rather … regal, maybe, was the word for it. Far beyond a simple thanks, almost as if the words had left Genesis’ mouth. Poetic.
“Well, I couldn’t very well leave you out there to die,” Angeal nodded, giving the man a slight smile to show that he was still friendly and trusting, despite his burden’s sudden revival. The Soldier released a held breath, taking in the feeling of the light breeze as it cooled the sweat on his skin. He took a couple of steps away from the stranger, before putting his back to the same wall, removing the large sword from his back, and sliding down to sit. He placed the canteen between them, watching the stranger with a curious, yet still concerned, glowing-eyed gaze.
“I’m Angeal,” he offered the man his name, before gesturing toward him with a gloved hand, “Any idea how or why you ended up half-buried in a sand dune?”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
Angeal wakes up in a strange place, the last thing he remembers being orders for Wutai. He meets a man named Mu, who gives him a map of the land and explains that he's no longer in his world.
Traveling with a caravan bound for Provo, Angeal helps stop a man from ramming his out of control chocobo into a crowd of weary travelers. He invited the man to join him, and has since regretted it.
Angeal, down on his luck, goes to a bar in Provo that is doing some sort of dating event. However, he hardly expected a Turk to sit herself at his table.
Traveling through the desert, Angeal finds a man buried in the sand. He gets them to safety, but the man -- with a very long title for a name -- seems to recover more quickly than he should have.
Having a recurring nightmare while staying in a desert outpost town, Angeal takes an early walk to clear his head and finds another warrior out and about at dawn.
Footsteps softly parted the grass nearby, and Angeal only needed a passing, glowing-eyed glance to see that it was the stranger he’d offered some companionship to. He was honestly a bit surprised to see the man saunter back over to him, as most people seemed to want to keep to themselves in this world.
That, or they weren’t particularly interested in speaking to a man with a giant sword on his back.
”You left it a tad long, I think.”
Angeal raised a dark eyebrow, giving the man a curious look as he propped himself down on a log next to the fire. The poor fish was, indeed, beyond saving at this point, but he couldn’t really let it go to waste. Food was even more scarce now than it had been when he was growing up. He was no expert fisherman like his father had been, but the few he caught every other day were enough to keep him going. Not as much as he’d like, no thanks to his army-strengthened metabolism, but enough.
”But there’s no need for shame. It’s a simple mistake. I’m a tad out of touch myself, really.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Angeal mused as he pulled his fish away from the fire, pressing his fingers to the filleted sides to see how warm they were, “No good deed goes unpunished.”
The man’s brand of humor was nostalgic, as much as it poked fun at him. It reminded him of Genesis, who’s words were crafted so carefully to be harmless barbs -- enough to make him roll his eyes, but not actually designed to inflict any pain. The kind of humor that used to go over Sephiroth’s head when they all first became friends, as he took it all so literally.
His heart lurched.
Angeal cleared his throat, “Feel free to show me up though, chocobo jockey. There’s a couple of gutted fish in the net right behind you.”
The Soldier then picked at his fish, pulling off little bits here and there that weren’t particularly scarred by the fire. It was bland and filled his mouth with the aroma and taste of smoke more than anything else, but pulled up distinct memories of campfires by the sea and the harsh times at home with nothing but rough, tuber vegetables and whatever was biting.
Oh well. At least the chocobo-man constantly roasting him as thoroughly as he accidentally had this fish would keep him distracted.
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
The sweltering heat of the sand hit a little different while carrying an entire body in his arms. Angeal desperately pulled each warm breath into his lungs, blinking away the sweat that beaded and dripped down from his hairline, irritating his eyes. The weight of the man was no issue, really, but the added layer of heat was enough to make even the kind-hearted Soldier reconsider traversing the dunes to the next stopping point. However, the man in his arms was desperately clinging to life, his ragged breaths urging Angeal to keep moving.
And so he did.
It seemed like an eternity had passed before the next camp on the map appeared. The outpost appeared deserted, most of the beige buildings having sustained various levels of damage on top of being partially buried under the sand. Gritting his teeth, Angeal scoured the area for a building that still held its shape and offered some respite from the sun. Blue eyes scanned the structures -- everything out here was the same infuriating color -- before his gaze landed on an intact doorway.
There was no door, of course, closed buildings offered no real ventilation in the desert. The doorway was partially blocked by a drift of sand, but nothing the Soldier couldn’t push his way through. The windows were high, allowing for the warm breeze to pass through on all sides. It was still warm, but definitely degrees cooler than it was outside. And, more importantly, they were finally safe from the terrorizing rays of the sun.
Angeal gently set his burden down on the sand-covered, stone floor. The man was barely conscious, but still fighting for his life. The Soldier let loose his own held breath as he knelt down beside the man, slicking back his own sweaty, raggled hair before removing his gloves. He set his supplies off to the side before reaching for his canvassed canteen, taking a gulp himself before dribbling just a few drops onto the man’s face with his fingers.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” Angeal started, his voice hoarse as the water worked its way through his throat, “I’m going to pour some water into the canteen cap for you to drink. It has to be a little bit at a time, so it doesn’t shock your system, alright?”
He removed the cap from the canteen bottle, filling it with water. It was a decent sip’s worth, enough to start revitalizing the man one drink at a time, but not enough to choke him in case his body decided to revolt against him. Angeal gently set a hand on the back of the man’s neck, holding his head steady as he moved the edge of the canteen lid to the man’s dry lips.
“If you’re conscious, lean into it. I’m not going to be responsible for drowning you.”
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
Can't process this other world shit, MOVING ON xDD
To detail how ungrounded Angeal felt would have been impossible. The more the mysterious, yet helpful stranger spoke, the more he felt like his feet were coming off of the ground. Like he was no longer gripped by reality. How did, how could any of this make sense? Attempting to grasp what the man meant felt like grabbing at bubbles -- physically they were there, there could be some truth to it … but they burst, just as soon as he wrapped his fist around them.
That individual could come from a different point in time as you
The Soldier tried to focus on taking the information one logical step at a time. He was in a different world. He’d been brought here, just like the man before him. Not only that, but people were being dropped off in the world left and right, potentially from … the future? Or the past? Angeal closed his eyes and took a deep breath, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as his eyebrows furrowed. However, no matter what he did to attempt to focus on the supposed facts being stated to him, it all slipped away. It was too hard to believe.
The ninja replied that he hadn’t seen anyone like Angeal, and to his credit, the man at least seemed sincere in his words. That little bit of humanity was likely the only thing keeping the dutiful Soldier from simply letting the confusing despair drop the ground from beneath his feet.
Was this man telling the truth? He’d have to verify it with others, but … the map felt real, at the very least, and it wasn’t like there was an entire city hidden that he’d never known about. Besides, for a city to be this technologically far along, it would have to be connected to ShinRa.
The white haired man introduced himself politely. Mu, it was an interesting name. That sense of normalcy pulled Angeal from his further cynical thoughts, helping him to find something stable to focus on. Introductions. Anything other than this … other world talk.
The Soldier cleared his throat, “I’m Angeal. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bombard you with so many questions.” He held his tongue from stating just how wild and unbelievable the entire story was, of course. Instead, he let the previous part of their conversation replay in his head.
Angeal glanced about the street. Strangers met his gaze for only a moment before looking away, going about their business, bathed in the neon lights and mutters covered up by the sounds of the night. He looked back to Mu, lowering his voice, “You said there’s a lot of crime here at night. Anything we should be concerned about?”
Sorry this is DUMB AND SHITTY I've been so scatterbrained sobs
Angeal had the good fortune of being handed a map upon his arrival to this strange world. He’d lost count of the days at this point, having not had anything to record his ventures down with for a while, but he was well aware that he’d hardly covered even a smidgen of the continent he was stranded on.
Well, he’d accepted the fact that this did seem to all be real, at least. Crawling out of denial was a step in the right direction.
His map was dotted with notes he’d made himself, slightly smudged, but otherwise perfectly readable. It wasn’t a topographical map, and so he’d added notes about the geography and flora on the paths he’d traveled so far, realizing only too late that he should have invested in a journal to take notes in. Reconnaissance wasn’t a typical job for a Soldier 1st Class, but that hardly meant Angeal wasn’t used to it. He was a true army grunt once upon a time and knew the importance of taking field notes and paying attention to every possible detail.
Lines crossed over the paper here and there, leading to Gaia-only-knew where. A week ago the Soldier traced a path with his finger, his eyes scanning unfamiliar town names and outposts. He hadn’t had any luck so far in locating anyone else he knew … Or anyone who even knew what ShinRa was, for that matter. It was time to find a new location to search. There were two long, distinct paths leading south -- one on the east and one on the west. Midgar was located in the west … Maybe someone else had wandered in that direction, hoping to find something familiar?
One way to find out.
If he’d have known it was nothing but desert, Angeal wouldn’t have picked that path first. He sighed heavily as the sun beat down relentlessly against his cloak, the stifling wind occasionally pressing underneath his hood. The map wasn’t wrong, this was a known path with outposts marked, but most of the little towns and outposts had been abandoned, from the looks of them. He’d been wandering on the outskirts of the desert for days now, sweating obscenely during the long days and near freezing during the nights. There was no clear end in sight, and if he were any lesser of a man, he certainly would have died by now.
Mako infusions were nothing to scoff at, apparently.
Grainy sand and curved dunes as far as the eye could see. Angeal shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand as he gazed across the landscape, finding nothing but the same monotonous views. The wind whipped and whirled the dangerous speckles; a sort of taunt that, at any moment, it could stir the ground into a torrential storm that would threaten to bury everyone and everything in its path. Even wildlife was scarce aside from the occasional reptile that skittered past his boots and back into the sandy depths.
In the distance, the Soldier could see a storm moving away from him. He’d likely been lucky to dodge it, venturing some minutes or hours behind the winds. The wall of tans and yellows moved further away, nothing but a dull hum on the horizon. If it had been somewhat closer, maybe it would have blocked out the sun, if only for a moment. Angeal drew his map from his travel bag, finger following along the path he’d traveled. Looks like there’s an outpost coming up. Maybe I’ll get luckier this time. Thank Gaia he was an over-preparer. Once he’d spotted the desert on the horizon, Angeal had stocked up as much water as he could shove in his travel pack and in the canteen at his waist.
He carefully folded the map and packed it away once more, scanning the barely-there path ahead, only clear from the occasional vague landmark. However, something caught his eye -- something shining against the light of the sun. Angeal squinted against the wind, blue eyes searching for more of what could possibly be buried in the dune ahead. A weapon, maybe, or a piece of technology? Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.
His boots sunk in the disturbed sand as he approached. The wind was still upset, the last of the influence of the distant storm. Angeal pulled the tunic closer as the glare of the nearby metal guided him, huffing underneath the fabric. The heat radiating off of the ground distorted the image before him, pulling lines into curves. However, as he drew closer to the shining object, an unwelcome chill came up his spine. His gaze followed the lines, partially covered by sand; long limbs, sandy covered clothing, dark hair.
It wasn’t an object. It was a person.
Angeal hurried his steps, though a feeling of dread sunk into the pit of his stomach. A man collapsed in the desert … It was likely he wasn’t looking at a living person any more, but a corpse. The Soldier crouched down next to the body, drawing it out of the sand. The gauntlets on the body were what had caught his eye, metal on leather. Angeal brushed sand off of the body, before pulling off his glove and pressing two fingers to the man’s neck.
The body was warm, but that was no surprise. There was no way that--
Faint, rhythmic thumps valiantly pressed through to Angeal’s fingers. The Soldier’s glowing eyes widened as he quickly rose, leaning up to pick up the body bridal style. The man’s weight was hardly noticeable -- Angeal swung around an equally heavy weapon with ease daily -- but moving through the sand would take a bit longer. He gently shook the man, making sure the sand-covered shawl was shadowing his face as he walked back toward the path.
They weren’t too far from the next outpost. Angeal could get them there quickly, but of all times … He wished he had another way to travel. Moving far enough from the dune back to the path he’d been walking, Angeal took a moment to set the man down, supporting his upper body by keeping a strong arm wrapped around the stranger. He pulled his canteen from his side and pulled the tab open, taking a moment to lightly flick water against the man’s face. Hopefully, it would provide a first step toward waking him up. He couldn’t risk tilting the water into the man’s mouth after all -- if he was too far gone, he’d simply choke.
“Come on now,” Angeal urged the man, giving him another gentle shake, “Show me you’re still holding on.”
Whether the man did or not was irrelevant. Angeal placed the canteen back at his side and picked the stranger up once more. Even if the man woke up, he likely didn’t have the energy to walk.
Just a bit further. They’d find shelter in no time.
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
The inexperienced Chocobo rider gave an exasperated laugh as he took the reigns from Angeal's outstretched hand.
”I’ll likely request a refund on my purchase. I can’t say I’m particularly happy with the result. It’s been ages since I’ve had cause to ride one. You see, where I left there are these excellent vehicles called cars. My, the speed nearly astounded me! Magnificent things. I haven’t seen a reason to leave them yet!”
The Soldier rose his eyebrows at the man's sarcasm, but yet more at his mention of cars. Right, Angeal hadn't seen a real motorized vehicle since he'd left Sonora. Where they were currently was certainly backwater, as Zack would have put it. Most travel seemed to be done with chocobos or walking, and there wasn't much of an in-between that he'd found yet. When confronted with a vehicle, a chocobo really did look more dim and grim. Not that they didn't have their uses -- even ShinRa had trouble with some terrain -- but the birds had become outclassed and derelict.
"I understand the feeling," Angeal muttered honestly, placing his hands on his hips as he sympathized with the stranger. Traveling on foot, camping out in the wilderness, and eating nothing but what you caught or found was entertaining for the first few days, but Gaia knew he was craving some modern comforts.
A humored smirk found its way to the Soldier's lips as the chocobo-rider admitted to needing to settle back into the old way of doing things. He sounded like an old soul, a back in my day type. Angeal had no issues with such a thing, even he was known to complain in such a way despite his younger age. Even his mother told him he was an old man stuck in the body of a strapping young man.
He was right, Angeal had managed fine. But, that was all he'd done. Managed. He was no closer to finding any of the people he was searching for, nor finding any sense of normalcy in this world. The map of the continent was crinkled in his pocket, filled with notes about the paths and areas he'd traveled through; dotted with the names of creatures he'd somewhat recognized, outposts, landmarks ... Hopefully, it would be of some use to him later.
"I believe the stable is that way," he pointed in the direction the man had come flying in from, returning his casual farewell wave. That was that, he told himself as he turned away to let the stranger get back to his evening of, hopefully, no longer running over people. However, Angeal paused before taking another step. He could almost hear Genesis chiding him for the thoughts in his head.
I don't care if that man is traveling alone, his shoulder Genesis argued with his psyche, You should not be inviting him to join you, you know nothing about him.
Hewley sighed, sagging his shoulders.
Angeal, don't you dare, Angeal--!
The Soldier turned back around to see the man's retreating back. He called out over the distance, "Let me know if you need help with anything else, alright? I'm traveling alone myself. You're welcome to come join me if you need the company."
With the humble offer of kindness extended, Angeal turned back to his nearby fire, still smoldering with a speared, darkened fish nearby. He tucked a strand of hair back into place as he walked back over to his spot. If the stranger decided he needed some company, or a charred fish, he'd easily be able to find Angeal. There weren't many people in the area traveling with a giant sword on their back, after all. He set back by his fire, carefully placing the Buster Sword into the grass, before picking up his sad excuse for a fish and warming it back up over the top of the small flames.
How long can you swallow the pain? Before it comes round again, And a shadow in the valley will lead you to them, So don't follow.
