#also 1 . this is a rehash of our ancient thread and 2 . my OCs are here

[omnislaught]

    @machinistictendencies​  !

    THE  HISS  OF  STEAM  emitted in the fervor of the desert air .  Its mechanical cacophony was unmistakable : the clangour of grinding gears was none other than that of the Gestahlian magitek armours . The lofty dunes of Figaro refused to stop them , as each of them trudged through with ease —— clank , clank , whir ,  clank , clank , whir .  Grains spilled from their mighty feet as every step seemed to shake the earth beneath them . To watch them move was a marvel in of itself ; the empire ,  though  fearsome  &  ruthless  ,  rarely failed to make a  polished  entrance .

    The riders upon the horizon were numbered . Three suits of armour charged ahead , with a few others following flanked alongside , their strides long & steadied . How they moved was akin to the machines they'd trailed . Faces , partially hidden by their helms , were the still & stern expressions that many in the empire wore . Many . All except for one , an outlier : the sum of this part would  wear the rest of this machine down  to nothing but its  crumbling cogs  . The Imperial Mage ,  a garish & otherwise frightening individual  , was the only one to take delight in such a mundane procedure . How rare it was that he now piloted a magitek armour , though he'd been taught so years ago . His raucous laugh pierced the quiet like a sharpened dagger .     

   Below him , there were  whispers & murmurs  .  How  childlike  he'd become & what  madness  had strangled his mind following the botched experiments . All of it was barely heard over the mechanized motions . The footmen knew he'd gladly  have their heads severed & served  to their families on  a silver platter , so they'd spoke no more of it . The fresh-faced Simao , newly drafted at the trusted word of  Cid del Norte Marques for the Empire's research , kept to himself out of sheer fear . The wisened  Doroteia  did the same , for it wasn’t Figaro’s searing heat that bothered her the most .

   They'd remained silent for the rest of the way .

   As soon as they'd arrived , the hulking machines came to a halt , powering down . The  droning hum  of their magitek engines faded amongst the whirling winds .  Most unlike the others , Kefka hadn't stepped from the seat of his armour & out onto the Figaro courtyard : he'd floan , a descent marked by the billowing colours & click of his dastardly heels .  Since the experiment , he’d been subjected to an almost  otherworldly grace  that hardly any of them possessed  ( save for that  curious girl  he’d  latched onto  & one of the other generals , which little he’d paid attention to , beyond scorn & spite  )  .  Everyone had followed , then , dutifully rushing to Kefka’s side .

   “ edgar , edgar , edgar  . . . ”   said the mage ,  feet never once touching a single stair . Figaro , while beautiful & a wonder in of itself , was nothing more than another building to topple to him , to Vector .  another pathetic little piece on the checkered board , filled with pathetic little pawns .  he’d waved to the doorman , who didn’t hesitate to unlock the iron doors ------ the lock clicked open & was subsequently hauled to the side . the crimson grin that spread across Kefka’s painted face was baleful ,  malefic .  the Empire had made their way into the castle , at the messenger’s request .  weapons , was what she’d said , holding the parchment aloft .

and more to himself than to others , as the young king was not yet present , the palace’s main doors being swung open : 

“ what do you have in store for us now ? ”