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year 5, quarter 3
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Post by Clive Rosfield on May 10, 2024 13:24:25 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
That woman and Kupka, in his eyes, were monsters and little else. They could not be reasoned with, for they were horrible human beings that would hurt people without care. Much like Barnabas, the world was better off with them dead. He didn't mind the existence of Dominants such as Jill or Dion, however. Jill had just wanted to be left to her life, while Dion would have no reason to use his abilities if not for the Empire's obsession with expansion. Then, of course, there was Joshua. A gentle soul belonging to a nation that did not seek out war if it did not have to. Not perfect, no... But if Joshua had been allowed to use his power to heal all that came to him, he would have gladly spent his life doing so. He was the perfect example of what a Dominant should be...
And why he could never begrudge Joshua for inheriting the Phoenix's blessing and not him. None of it was Joshua's fault, he did not make their traditions, and he was not responsible for Annabella scorning him. He had been chosen to do his part, and he did it better than anyone ever could have hoped. If only the Empire hadn't invaded, if not for Ultima... Oh, what a ruler Joshua would have been.
"If Barnabas appears and begins his bloodletting, he will have to be dealt with quickly," Clive agreed to Dion's appraisal of the Dominant of Odin. "The longer he is allowed to walk free, the more that will suffer. We need to go after him the moment word reaches."
He did not fear Odin. But he had enough scars to know how much of a problem that Barnabas would be if he were to appear. He would not allow it. All traces of Ultima and their pawns needed to be wiped out for good, if this world, or any world, were to be safe. He didn't care how many times he had to kill Ultima, or Barnabas, Kupka, Benedikta, or any of them to ensure that those he loved who came to this world would be safe. Just Mid being here was enough reason for Clive to take up the sword. If he had to, they would die, and his loved ones could enjoy the peace they had long fought so hard for. And if he had to choose someone to fight that fight with him, Dion would rank top amongst them. He abhorred his Empire, and detested his father, but he could not deny that Dion was as strong as he was reliable. Dion was true to his word, and Clive held that in high regard.
He did his ask for anyone in particular amongst the Dragoons, however. Instead, while he told him to trust in his dragoons, and Clive nodded to acknowledge that, it was who he did ask for that caused Clive to look away. An attempt to hide that look of pure, absolute contempt that shown the moment he even broached the idea of doing anything to his father but stabbing him. Clive held a deep, deep contempt for the late Emperor. By all counts, the Emperor deserved to die again if he were to be sent here. Clive wanted to stab him personally, and even by practical counts, he was too dangerous to let roam free. To Clive, he was just as much a monster as the others.
Because it took a monster to do what he had done.
A shutter of the eyes, a long, deep breath. Those came and went as Clive allowed himself to calm down long enough to answer Dion's request with as clear a mind as humanly possible in a circumstance where Dion had just asked him to do what should be impossible. Did he want him to spare Annabella too? Maybe Ultima while he was at it?
"Fine."
That visibly pained him to say, but Dion had earned that boon after everything. "He gets one chance. If he wastes it, I'll ensure he doesn't hurt a soul again."
Personally, he hoped the Emperor stayed dead. He was a greedy, selfish bastard who didn't care how many lives were lost for his aims. Clive had seen far more of that pompous -fuck- than he had ever wanted to while experiencing Dion's memories before priming. If Zephon's gods knew what was good for them, he, Ultima and the others would rot uninterrupted.
Post by Clive Rosfield on May 9, 2024 10:51:56 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
It was mere comparison, but one Clive was well aware may trigger unpleasant memory. It was difficult to speak of his father’s fate when the circumstances were kneaded so tightly with Dion’s own family. As far as Hremit went? It was almost comforting to see the similarities… Yet worrying, as well. It was clear this realm was peaceful because of the man, that he could see. But how fragile was this peace? And a man like Hremit, like his father before him, had to be vulnerable to the greed of other politicians. Perhaps not mentally, but…
The king was not as strong a combatant as the outworlders. And where there was greed and lust for power, there was death. A just and kind ruler was only as good as however long he could live. A blade in the dark, and…
Peace could fall. Just like that. A fate Clive was all too familiar with. And at the end of the day, Hremit was not his father. Too many unknowns, too little he knew, for him to be trusting.
As for Ifrit? Clive knew what Ifrit was. But it was still a part of him, and the comment was too soon. Especially when Ifrit’s role as a force of destruction rang too close to home. But he didn’t hold it against Dion. How could he know? It wasn’t intentional, he was only trying to help. That, at least, Clive understood. Dion though, had a different understanding of the other Dominants than him. Though Clive disagreed, he didn’t think less of the Crown Prince for it. It made sense for him to think that way, considering he would have likely only faced them in the game of war, at best. They were, in a sense, professional. All business. Clive’s battles, however, were a touch more in-depth and personal.
“You’re correct in that they have seemingly no reason to strike, only in war, or at me… If we were still in Valisthea” Clive brought up then. “I’ve fought Benedikta and Kupka both, seen them at their highest… And their lowest. They each hunger for the same thing, something their nations each gave them that they would lack here — power. Benedikta will do whatever it takes to be in a spot above where she may look down on others, and Kupka? A brute, a bully, someone with no care for slaughtering thousands of innocents to get what he wants. He enjoyed a very lofty life in Dhalmekia, I don’t see him, or Benedikta, settling for less. And that makes them dangerous… Especially if they work together.”
And Hugo was an easily agitated fool. It wouldn’t take much for him to rain destruction upon all around him if set off. The worst kind of Dominant. Well, except for…
“I don’t know what King Barnabas will do, here in a world without Ultima. And that? Is terrifying” Clive wholly admitted. The other two were predictable, Clive could read them like a book. But Barnabas? A man with that amount of power, with that much blood behind him and a mind that far gone, now without direction? If he showed up, this world was in grave danger. “I agree, his history as a conqueror doesn’t bode well if he were to appear. And he genuinely wanted all of humanity to become akashic. I can’t imagine what he might do now.”
Still, Dion’s cooperation was a comfort. And Clive gratefully lowered his head. “Thank you, Your Highness. There are not many in this life I would feel as confident fighting alongside as with you. I hope it won’t be necessary, but know I will be there if ever you find yourself in trouble.”
He highly doubted Dion could reason with Kupka or that woman, but Clive had stated his thoughts already, so he just nodded in agreement and… Hoped for the best, he supposed? And that Dion wouldn’t die in the process. There was a lot of history there, but he didn’t actually want anything to happen to Dion.
“Is there any you might wish me to look out for?” He asked, then. He couldn’t just let Dion help him out without him doing the same.
Post by Clive Rosfield on Apr 26, 2024 12:53:37 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
"Violet it is," Clive responded with what he could manage of a cheery smile. He wasn't really in a smiling mood, but he wanted them to be sure that everything was fine and he was no danger to her. Of course, the smile probably came off more tired than anything. Why? Because he was tired. Eikons within, was he tired.
Once they had sat down near the fire, Clive shifted a bit to the other side. On the surface, perhaps he was giving her space, perhaps some polite nobleman thing. In truth though, he just needed enough space to not choke on her perfume. That would make this far easier. However, she did not ask the question he had expected her to start with. Instead, she wanted to know more about his background.
Well, he supposed a little bit of background couldn't hurt, right? Enough to build up to the "why". If they didn't understand what led him here, maybe telling the why would be a problem. They needed a complete story, he supposed. Or, that's how it seemed to make sense in his head. She was the journalist, at the end of the day. She was the one writing the article.
"Well," Clive began as he considered his words carefully. He reached down to scratch behind the ears of Torgal, whom had followed and flopped down below him. It seemed that even with the strong smell she emitted, Torgal refused to leave him alone with a stranger. "My name is Clive Rosfield, previously the Lord-Marquess of Rosaria. Which exists in the land of Valisthea. I was firstborn to the reigning Archduke, expected to take the throne of Archduke after becoming the Dominant of the Phoenix. The Phoenix being one of our world's Eikons, an important figure in our world and the centerpiece of Rosaria's culture. But I..."
This was reopening a wound he had not wanted to reopen, and he paused a moment to take a breath, considering whether he really wanted to do this. Then again, how many wounds had he reopened now since coming here? Perhaps getting it on paper would help him finally start to reconcile all of it.
"I was rejected by the Phoenix. Then by my own mother. My younger brother, Joshua, was instead chosen to take on the Phoenix's power. I worked my way up to become his First Shield, fulfilling my duties to Rosaria by instead protecting its future Archduke."
Clive couldn't help a quiet, almost bitter laugh. "If only I knew how small that all was, in the grand scheme of things. Valisthea, which comprises the continents of Ash and Storm, relies heavily on the magic of crystals and magic users, similarly to Torensten's people. But instead of treating these magic bearers, called Bearers for short, with respect... Whether it was the Empire, the Republic or the Dominion, their powers and their people treated Bearers as lesser-born slaves. Freaks, trash... Existing only to serve and then be discarded when overusing our magic kills us."
Clive pointed to the scar on his face, then. "This scar lays where a Brand once was. Especially in the Empire, they would take Bearers from their homes when born, or otherwise discovered, and would mark them, branding them as slaves. The brand is laced with wyvern poison, with an agonizing death awaiting those who attempt to remove it. It took a lot of time, and a steady hand, for me to survive doing so."
Talking about it objectively was a little bit easier, let him speak more confidently by giving her the facts instead of leaning too much on his personal experience. It was as simple as reciting his lessons, with his own spin on it.
"Bearers, and contraptions operated through magic, drew their magic from the Mothercrystals scattered across Valisthea. They were the core of our way of life. But they were also killing Valisthea itself. Aether being siphoned from the air led to a disaster called the Blight when that aether is used up. Blighted lands are barren, inhospitable, unable to sustain life. With no aether, magic cannot even be used in these blighted lands. Over time, each nation went to war with one another over what land was left unblighted."
Turning Valisthea into hell on earth. Especially for Bearers.
Post by Clive Rosfield on Apr 26, 2024 12:13:17 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Oh good, Nerissa knew where to find them. This really was a new world, wasn't it? Clive had explored practically every corner of the Twins at this point, but this place was new and now? He knew nothing. He didn't even have a network of resources to find things anymore. Now, he had found himself starting over from square one. No pressure, no responsibility... And yet, instead of being liberating, it just felt empty. Clive didn't care for the power, but to have all those people around him, fighting for the same thing. To have a true cause, a purpose... It was the only times in his life that he felt right about himself.
Everything felt so wrong. And he didn't know if it would ever be right again.
Nerissa would say "shall we depart?" which caught Clive off guard for a moment. So it would be Nerissa herself who would be escorting him? He had been so lost in thought that he had forgotten he was here to find an escort in the first place, alongside the directions. To go alongside Nerissa, a Cursebreaker and once someone whom had served Rosaria, would be a comfort that he had not expected to find in this world. So he would nod his head in kind.
"Whenever you are ready, Nerissa," Clive answered in kind. "You would be leading the way, as I am new to this world. And... Would know the fastest way, so as not to invoke Mid's wrath. We can't have that."
Definitely couldn't have that. Even Clive feared Mid getting angry, though he would never straight up admit that around her. Couldn't have her getting a bigger head than what was already far too large for such a tiny body. Should probably get that checked out.
Post by Clive Rosfield on Apr 26, 2024 11:52:26 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Perhaps the face staring back at Terrence wasn't one he would be quite expecting. It had been on every wanted poster in Sanbreque for years, after all. That of Cid the Outlaw, or Ifrit as Dion would have called him. The scar that was customary of those who had removed their Brands was clear on his face, and not many wore the garb that he did. His father's armor, meant for the Duke of Rosaria.
Clive blinked a few times as he stared down at the trembling man in armor. Clive was a bit heavy-set, so the collision had not knocked him to his feet. At most, it had pushed him back a bit. While Clive was a bit annoyed at being collided with, the Dominant chose instead to manage a smile and hold out a hand to help the man up. Of course, the man helped himself up and began to apologize profusely. Clive shook his head when the man asked if he was hurt.
Though he could almost swear he recognized that armor...
-------
-A few days prior-
"Clive Rosfield -- the Council of Torensten has come to understand that your actions were born not of malice, but of confusion. While you acted against Torensten and its Crystal, you stopped when the misunderstanding was cleared up, as was witnessed by His Majesty King Hremit. In a moment where you could have destroyed the Crystal had you chosen to. This, our Council has not let go unnoticed."
"However, your actions still put Torensten's people in danger, and several knights were injured by your hand. As you have no gold to pay reparations to them and their families, they will be paid by the Crown. You, and your hound, will pay off your debt to Torensten through service to its people until that debt has been paid."
"And what would you have me do? If you wish to brand me and make me your assassin, we are going to have to disagree. This trial is happening because -I- choose to cooperate, I would take care not to misuse that cooperation. I will -not- be made a slave again."
"At peace, Lord Rosfield. Recently, monsters in the area have become more agitated for reasons we are unsure of. Many of them have enclosed upon the city itself, as if drawn to something. Knights, freelancers and the Dragonblades have all been hired to take care of them, but it would do us a great service if you were to help thin their numbers. Do so, and your debt is paid. No strings attached."
"I see. So long as those are your only terms, I will fight your monsters. It is a fair bargain for the pain I have caused your people."
-------
Thus, Clive Rosfield's journey to redeem his honor and start fresh on Zephon began. There had apparently been some trouble on the border between Torensten and Provo, so Clive had volunteered to investigate. To be quite frank, he wanted any excuse to get as far away from his oversized jail cell as possible. And monsters near the border seemed like the perfect excuse. Of course, he knew that Torensten's knights were likely watching him, even here. After all, he was still a criminal until he had repaid his debt to society. So he knew he couldn't stay away long.
He had stopped in Provo after dispatching a wave of monsters, but finding that their leader had escaped. Some of the local guards stated they would be back with reinforcements, so he had taken the chance to see this city of Provo for himself, and restock his curatives with the pocket money that Mid had given him for the trip.
From Clive's side, Torgal would pad forward and sniff at Terrence, seeming to find something about his smell familiar. Something that Clive picked up on.
"I thought I recognized your garb."
How many dragoons had Clive fought? How many had he -killed?- Even now, he never forgot their faces. But this one's face he did not know. Only the armor. Torgal's curiosity confirmed his suspicions as well.
Post by Clive Rosfield on Mar 27, 2024 11:21:39 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Clive smiled slightly when Dion actually seemed concerned for his welfare when it came to the intentions of this King Hremit. That was surprisingly sweet of him. “It’s possible. I know just as you do the perils of fully trusting the leaders of any nation,” Clive agreed in kind. They both knew Dion knew that, considering their recent conversation. “I have no reason to trust any person in power. But what I sense from him… Actually reminds me of my father. My father gave people chances that others would hesitate in doing, both because of his strong heart, and because he hoped it would lead to what was best for Rosaria. It was how he lived, as beloved as he was…”
He closed his eyes a moment, before opening them again to tilt his head upwards, lost in his thoughts
“… And it was how he died. Trusting people that he shouldn’t have.”
Perhaps not the most tactful thing to say to Dion of all people, but it was the truth of the matter and tiptoeing around it wasn't going to make things any better. The fact was, his father had tried to see something in his mother. His father had tried to see something in the Empire. Just as he saw something in Clive, no matter how much his mother rebuked him. No matter how much she called him worthless and inferred that he should be disposed of like trash. Clive had done all he could to keep his father's memory alive in turn... But it didn't change the fact that while his father had lived by an honorable sword, he had also died by it. His judge of character had never been perfect.
Dion tried to comfort Clive regarding only being able to semi-prime in a way that made Clive feel a little bit better about his own lacking tact. Because "Maybe it's for the best you can't fully prime because your eikon only exists to destroy" was a really, really poor choice of words when said to someone still processing that loss. He understood Clive's feelings of loss, he said, while outright insulting Ifrit in the same breath. Clive stared at him a moment for that. It wasn't like Clive didn't know how destructive Ifrit could be when it was out of control. But reminding him of that now of all times, while he was also mourning Joshua who had almost died at Ifrit's claws before? Definitely not the Crown Prince's finest moment. But he sighed and let himself a moment to regain composure before saying anything. Patience, Rosfield. It wasn't like you hadn't been blunt either.
As Dion finished his thought, stating that Bahamut was the same, he managed a nod. "I can live without being able to prime. My mission is complete. However, we may both feel differently if Benedikta, Kupka and Barnabas return as well, with eikons intact" Clive responded in kind. Everytime he thought about those monsters returning, he wished he had asked for that drink. If he could scrounge together some gil, maybe he should look for something in town? "This world may not be ruled by war, but there are those within it who wish to bring that war to its doorstep, with or without those from our world doing so" he added as Clive pointed Dion towards the lookout posters that had been placed on the walls. "These Dragonblades keep track of the biggest known threats to this world's balance. And I doubt either you or I would stand idly by if they were to appear."
He knew Dion well enough at least, to say that. Considering he had lain his life on the line already. "At the least, right now they are the only problem. When I was in the castle, I found out that their mothercrystal is indeed the genuine thing. But it is… Different. It takes in aether, the same way our world’s mothercrystals did. But unlike the ones created by Ultima, the amount they take is insurmountably less. And this land is abundant with it, something I’m told is especially true in this particular region. These people will never have fear of the Blight," was something said that Clive never thought he would. A place free of Blight... Free of hatred for Bearers. It was perfect. It was his dream come true. "The aether around it also feels different, less… Thick. I asked Lady Chere about the risks of the crystal’s attendants becoming akashik, but nobody here has even heard of such a thing. It was when I realized the Mothercrystal wasn’t a danger and that I could not sense Ultima’s presence within, that I stood down and surrendered. I understand that regardless of the circumstances, I should be judged for my crimes.”
It was too good for him, after what he had done. Clive neglected to mention to Dion that when he had surrendered, he no longer cared if he lived or died. He was in a strange land with no way home, his goal had been fulfilled, and Joshua was gone. He should have died the first time around himself, after all.
“I still have a trial pending. I will likely find out this nation’s true intentions for me there. If I make it out of this... I would hope to count on you as an ally if this world comes under threat again. For one reason or another, it has chosen to spare us both. I intend to find out why, and I don't forget my debts.”
Post by Clive Rosfield on Feb 29, 2024 17:48:44 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
"You may."
It was in his best interests to be nice, and really, Clive didn't have any reason to look down on this journalist. Sure, she was probably just looking for a story to make a bit of gil for herself and renown in her profession, but was there really anything wrong with that? So long as what she printed was truthful, he had no reason to judge her. Even if he really didn't want to talk about this... He had nothing left to lose, and everything to gain. The people of Torensten already hated him. It was a position he had grown all too familiar with. If this went wrong, at least he could say that he tried.
Us, she said. Us, referring to people from... Other worlds, wasn't she? Interesting, so she wasn't a native to this world either. Perhaps there was truth to her words. Perhaps not. He wouldn't know until he tried, he supposed. And she did seem to have a clear goal in mind. His presence here had made things harder for her, and other offworlders, seemed to be the implication. And her goal was to find a means to amend that.
"I would be happy to oblige you for an interview, Miss Vayne" Clive responded in kind. While she had asked, and been granted, the permission to call him Clive. She had not asked that she be called by an informal name herself. It was better he stick to formalities until told otherwise. Politics 101, if his uncle was to be believed.
He certainly hoped his uncle was right.
She also wanted to cut straight to the point: The why. He could appreciate that, and he would have recommended that exact thing if she hadn't. People wouldn't care about an article on him if she started with his background, or what his favorite color was. If anyone read at all, it would be to find out the truth of why this crazy offworlder had attacked their Mothercrystal. Even if just to justify their hatred. That was the way his world had worked... And while there were differences here, he doubted that part had changed.
"Why don't we find a place to sit down and we can get started?" Clive offered then, motioning towards the common area. This venue choice wasn't without strategic reason, either. If they used the chambers he had been sleeping, he would suffocate. And Torgal would probably get mad, too. The fireplace in the commons would drown out the smell of her perfume, and give him some room to think.
Post by Clive Rosfield on Jan 11, 2024 12:57:56 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Clive regretted that the news would likely hurt Dion. It was far from what he would have wanted to tell the once-Crown Prince of Sanbreque. But it was as things happened, and there was seemingly nothing he could do. Except one thing, which was look for hope. Clive didn't know if it was possible for Dion's power to return, but considering he still had Ifrit at all after all that had happened, it was worth investigating. Unfortunately, Dion had not attempted. Of course he hadn't, there had to be a reason for him to try. And by the sounds of it, he had rushed to Torensten fairly soon after arriving. Clive listened to this tale, one echoing his own. Wounded from the battle against Ultima, as he had, and finding those who would help here in Zephon. Until they encountered a familiar face. In both their cases, that was Mid.
So these wounds... Had Bahamut fallen and then Dion had returned to his normal form, only to hit impact from a ground height before his transfer here? Joshua had known of Dion's passing, though Clive had known before his brother had said anything. No more had he been able to sense Prince Dion, not even what remained of Bahamut within him could be found. He hadn't seen what had happened, but the thought that he had died from falling at a great height...
Dion's death pained him, even if they were not close. He wished that Dion did not have to suffer so. But it was the burden that they had taken on. Yet for a moment, he could almost swear he felt something when Dion tried to focus his power... It was faint, but...
Dion claimed he could give no answer. But Clive knew he felt something. At the least, Dion didn't seem ready to give up just yet. Good. Clive nodded at that. “That is acceptable. We have time. I will most likely be here if you find anything. I remain in house arrest with these Dragonblades, for how long I know not. Though I know I should be grateful I am here at all, with how important that mothercrystal is to this city. I suspect the only reason I’m here and not in either a dungeon or a hole, is because the king was eavesdropping on Lady Chere and I," expressed Clive in a voice of quiet acceptance of just how fortunate he technically was. Even if it didn't feel like it.
But he had seen that king and his men while he and Miss Chere had been conversing. Peering from the shadows, armed to the teeth. Looking for the right moment to jump in and take him down. But while the moment never came, these few moments were likely the reason Hremit had tried to spare him. And why he had accepted Celes' offer to hold him here. Happenstance that may be his salvation... Or perhaps not. One party may have overheard his story, but he knew by his reading that there were others in power who had not.
"At present, I can semi-prime, but no more. It may be that as our strength returns, we may be able to harness more of it again," Clive tried his best to be optimistic. "But Ifrit's power doesn't feel like it is there in the way that it once was. I am unsure of my limit, or yours."
He hadn't been able to hold the semi-prime state for long. If Lady Chere had kept fighting for any longer, he wouldn't have lasted.
Post by Clive Rosfield on Jan 11, 2024 12:35:35 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Clive was getting tired of telling this story. Trying to tell people that this had been a misunderstanding. A grievous one on his part, but something he hadn't been able to control, exactly. Some people understood, but others? That mothercrystal was sacred to them. They couldn't overlook it so easily, regardless of the reason. And for someone who had lived in Valisthea? He understood that all too well, far more than he would ever have liked to. He didn't want to admit that, because it would acknowledge that this way of life in Valisthea was... Normal. That it should be considered anything more than the abomination that it was. But for its people... That's what it was. It was a norm that Clive had disrupted, and threatened by nature of his very being.
He sure as hell didn't want to have someone seek him out just to talk about it. But Clive's woes had only continued to grow, and he was almost starting to regret that he had survived. This was further shown in the form of some "journalist" getting to his room, or seemed to be one by the name "Torensten Times". How had she gotten past Tomoe without him first being told about it? Not that Tomoe likely cared much for his privacy considering he had earned her ire after that crystal stunt. But he could hear the clatter of heels and smell something ungodly foul long before she reached the door. Clive had been reading through a book on Zephon's history in his room when he had mistaken the sounds for some sort of monster that had gotten in. Then they had spoken up, and to be honest?
He would have taken the monster.
At the very least, Clive supposed. An interview could soften his image. Or make it worse. But she was already here, and had already hunted him down. And Clive, who was no stranger to being hunted down, knew the best thing to do was to confront his pursuer directly.
"Of course. I will be but a moment."
That gave him a minute to get Torgal to heave off him, since the oversized pooch had been napping on his chest while he was reading. How this bed had held the weight, he wasn't sure. But he had heard the group's other leader was a large man, it was likely they had commissioned beds for the place with size like his in mind. Not the couch, however. Perhaps he should charge for his time so he could afford a replacement for the couch that Torgal destroyed.
Nah. Just be polite and get this over with.
Clive took a moment to fix up his hair and look somewhat presentable before opening the door. His body language had changed the moment it opened, his rougher and more rushed movements replaced with something more smooth and elegant. The truth of the matter was, this woman was a stranger. And one whose products reached the city as a whole. He knew it was best he looked the part, even if he really didn't want to do so. Because a misstep could make his situation even worse. The way Clive Rosfield walked, the way he ran, the way he carried himself... Much of the Rest had looked at him like some kind of intimidating monster. He didn't need to have that happen here. Fortunately, one thing he still remembered from his childhood was all that time practicing theatre with Uncle Byron. So for a little bit at least, for diplomacy's sake... He could play the part of passing as the lord he once was.
"I am grateful for your patience, Miss Vayne. What can I do for you?" he spoke gently, doing his best to withhold an urge to projectile vomit at the overwhelming smell of her perfume. He would close the door behind him, not wanting to have it bother Torgal.
Post by Clive Rosfield on Jan 11, 2024 11:17:30 GMT -6
THE OUTLAW
Clive was used to being mistakenly called by his former title by those of the Cursebroken. But it was a rare sight here in Zephon, for sure. However, he didn't judge her for it. Especially if she had once served House Rosfield as she claimed. If anything, he owed this Nerissa woman gratitude for her service to his family. However, something about her stirred something within him... It felt uncannily like how he felt around other Dominants. Especially the ones whose Eikons he had once taken into himself, like how he had felt with Dion previously. But it also stirred something else... Memories, perhaps. Memories that felt like he could just reach out and touch if he pushed enough, but still remained out of his reach no matter how hard he tried. Memories that would only be unlocked with DLC.
"Fret not. Title or not, it is good to see you" Clive did his best to assuage her concerns softly, still a touch sheepish about trying to comfort anyone at all. He was a fighter, not much of a nobleman nowadays. His diplomacy was a bit out of practice. The diplomatic one here, instead, was Nerissa. Who was probably the only person besides Torgal so far that had actually openly understood and empathized with what had happened. Mid, he knew, understood. But she would never tell him that. To hear that there were people that really did understand why he had done what he did, helped just a little. He was grateful for that.
"Thank you" he spoke quietly, unsure of what else to say on the matter. Torgal, meanwhile, let out a small whine when she claimed she didn't have any bones. Clive however, would scratch behind Torgal's ear as he fished out one of his own for the wolf to chew on. Which Torgal immediately took to the corner. Thank... Some matter of creator that definitely wasn't Ultima, that he'd brought some with him when he left for Origin.
More specifically, he had just forgotten to take them out of his pockets.
Nerissa then, essentially, inquired about business. "Right, I... Forgot" Clive responded sheepishly. What did Mid want again? "Mid wants bones from a specially large coeurl, for... Reasons that I do not understand. She said Nerissa could point me towards where they may be found, and provide an escort. As I am still not allowed to leave unguarded."
When was this trial happening? This was going to go for as long as Iggy and Gulag Gladdy were in the clink at this rate.