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averyscarlet-blog · 3 years

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Project Clypse

Hello there stranger! If you don’t know who I am, or you’re too lazy to read my name, I’m AveryScarlet! You can simply call me Avery or Av. And if you know me on fanfiction.net, mostly through my works Mercury Alchemist or Final Fantasy Versus XV, welcome! Now, for a while now, I’ve been wanting to write up my own original story. Issue with me, thanks to college in the past, I haven’t properly developed the mindset to write a full-blown novel. I’ve gotten so used to typing up a chapter or two in a month before publishing them that I can’t properly focus as an actual writer should.

As much as I want to focus on writing some of my fanfiction, I can’t because I’m focusing on studying for NCLEX. So if you’re waiting for the next chapter for FF Versus XV... It’s almost done! It’s just gonna take a while. But as you can see below, I’ve been working on something else. I’m sure you’re confused as to who these characters are in the chat and why I’m pushing so many out. Well. I’ll tell you. This is my way of practicing for a story I’ve been... REALLY wanting to write for a long time. It doesn’t have a definite name, so I’m calling it Project Clypse. Which partially comes from the group my main characters are in.

Now, I thought of writing up their character bio’s but..... I’m not really that good at it as I used to be. I used to for when I was active in RP’s but I’m so rusty that I doubt I can keep up with whomever I’m chatting with. So, I’m just summarizing certain details you need to know about them! Not all of it because that'd be spoiling the story of every character. Now, with all that’s said and done, let me start explaining key points of Project Clypse.

Premise/Background

The story is centered on a world called Avarus, which you can say is sort of like Earth, except it was made with someone else's version of life. Or, it used to be. Avarus is one of the few remaining worlds that has an active patron God, who has chosen to go under the alias Belial. The world was originally created and governed by another, Belial’s younger sister, Soleil. After Avarus’ creation, and the birth of man, she was killed by an unknown assailant. But before she died, she was cursed to experience an endless cycle of death and rebirth into various random worlds. She will live a short mortal life, then die from either natural or unnatural causes.

According to Belial, this curse is bestowed only to Celetials who have performed a dire sin. While there is no definite way to lift the curse, Belial hopes that by locating and retrieving her while she's still alive, or at the very least obtain her soul, then he could find the proper means to spare his sister of her cursed fate and return Avarus's true patron Goddess. Because of her demise, life on the planet started to decay. To prevent its destruction, Belial forced the planet to stop rotating, hoping to delay it long enough for him to find Soleil.

However, there were dire consequences to this act. His actions indirectly causing the world to cease rotating; time became non-existent as a result. This, inevitably, killed off most of the remaining life in the world due to the imbalance of the ecosystem as one half of the planet became stuck in perpetual darkness, and the other being dried up caused prolonged exposure to the sun's light.

The only life that Belial was able to salvage was her sisters creation; humanity. Those that survived after the planet ceased its rotation found themselves unable to age. They can still die, but their bodies will no longer decay. During the first Century since Soleil’s death, the God went through various countermeasures to keep the world and the life still inhabits it safe until he can find his sister.

However, a strange plague began to manifest. Soon, it began to devour most of the remaining populace, creating a dark entity in the process; the Astrals (will explain in a different section).

While Belial was successful in wiping out the infected, the God realized that he cannot keep the last remnants of humanity safe. Not while there are still Astrals lurking about. So he put them to sleep, sealed them in a place that only he knows. However, because of the sudden absence of time and life, the world began to deconstruct itself each time he departed in search for her in other worlds. Realizing he cannot manage Avarus and search for his sister at the same time, he found an alternative. Since his conception, he had noticed a peculiar type of living being popping up now and then in a variety of sentient species. So he sought them out.

Eventually, gathered enough to temporarily replace humanity and trick the world itself into thinking life still exists. At first, he gathered adults since he knew nothing can grow in Avarus once they’ve lived in the world for a certain period of time, but because of their attachments to the worlds they originated from, it was difficult to convince them to remain. Then he thought up of another solution, one which he knew his sister would frown upon. Children. With their young minds, they’ll easily forget their place of origin and can be easily trained in the necessary skill in traversing through different worlds. And, after learning that the Astrals have branched out to those said worlds, learn how to handle their sudden enemy.

Their goal is simple; to locate and, if possible, retrieve Soleil and eradicate the Astrals.

Main Characters

Note: Just in case you did not know... I. Cannot. Draw. As much as it pains me to do this, but I need you guys to have some sort of idea on how they look like. I cannot find the original artists of the artworks; mostly because google imaging is shit and Pinterest tends to... Send you elsewhere. So of you know the artist, please PM me so I can give them credit. If you know they don't want their works republished, I'll remove it and try to figure something out. I take no credit whatsoever on the art! I merely scoured the internet for any references I could use. If you're wondering why I'm not.using actual people... You know how awkward that is?

Anyway, much of these are concepts so expect changes in the future. I tried to discuss as little as possible about each character. And let me tell ya.... That was a lot I had to cut off, so if the explanation is a bit messy, that was from me trying to select what to remove to avoid revealing too much.

. . .

Sound

‘I have to be better. I have to be a better leader. I have to be a better lover. I have to be a better sibling. If I don’t... then I’ll lose everything again. If I must, I’ll sacrifice my identity for a third time if it means protecting them.’

Credits to: T0Q00(?) - Okay, on Pinterest it has the person’s name AND link to their twitter account. The thing is... it’s empty. Their entire page is empty. At least I found the artist’s name?

Also known as the Glutton King, Sound is one of the leaders of his faction, Tunera Clypse and a member of Mythral. He is a first generation Nors. While not as lazy as Noise, he’s not really a fan of getting involved in fights with people. When it comes to killing Astrals; that’s an entirely different story.

Outwardly, he displays laid back, playful, and very concerning outlandish behavior. And by outlandish, I mean his... eating habits. Sound likes to experiment with his stomach. He’ll do absolutely ANYTHING to eat whatever he deems as edible. He also - absolutely - lacks any sense of shame (ex. walking out of the shower and to his room without a towel, slapping Noise’s butt). Although limited to communicate via writing, he makes sure that every single thing he writes is worth reading. Many are even surprised at just how fast he writes his messages. Then again, after years of practice, it’s expected he’d adapt.

Sound is self-aware of the fact that he’s a fictional character and will randomly break the fourth wall, causing much confusion to his friends several times. While not as dark as his previous self, Fell, he maintains some of his views towards life and tends to be as vocal - via writing - of his previous self's beliefs.

As a Cursed Blood, his curse forces him to conceal his face behind a customized Fox Mask. Depending on the amount of facial skin that was exposed, a person can live up to several minutes to several hours before inflicted with sudden death. If a person were to see the entirety of his face, they will die on the spot from unknown causes. He has a Physical Curse as well, which causes him to inflict a certain degree bad-luck to whoever hears his voice. While it’s rarely anything life-threatening, Sound is forced to become selectively mute. Although he tries his best to remain silent, he tends to accidentally let it a few words or sounds slip. Which usually occurs when he sneezes, and when he does, it is immediately advised by his friends to duck and cover.

After undergoing the Ascension Ceremony, he joined the faction Tunera Clypse and then gave up his original name, becoming the next Sound. Unbeknownst to him, his actions later in life has caused him to unknowingly become the Vessel of Gluttony. It is unknown if his eating habits is the reason he became the vessel or it’s the other way around. Either way, he has shown to be fully capable of controlling the abilities that comes with being a Vessel. Sound merely chooses not to use them.

. . .

Ayane Koronashi

“If my brother had left the orphanage that day without me, I would simply smile. If Ulric presented me his latest girlfriend, I’d smile. Smiling is all I can ever do without being a nuisance. I could never show them my pain. I want to cry but my curse renders me incapable of doing so. But now it’s better. I’m better.”

Also known as the Black Fox. Ayane is the younger twin sister of Sound. Like her twin, she is also a member of Tunera Clypse and Mythral; as well as a first generation Nors. Despite being an active member, unless accompanied by her brother, Ayane is rarely allowed to participate in any scouting or combat-related missions. The main reason for this is her curse. While also a Cursed Blood like her brother and some of their friends, the unnatural causes that led to sudden conversion to a cursed blood caused her condition to be unstable. At the beginning, she was unable to retain her original form and would take the shape of a fox.

After some time and practice, she has learned to maintain most of her former human appearance, leaving only a pair of fox ears to replace her human ears and a tail (not by choice) as an extra ligament. Not only that, some of her internal organs remain similar to that of a fox. Because of this, she is unable to eat certain foods that are potentially poisonous to her (or generally unhealthy). She was told that eventually, if nothing is done, she will permanently take the complete form of a fox. She cannot surgically remove the fox parts as they will simply grow back.

Side-note: No, they did not try or plan to remove her fox ears. The curse replaced her human ears so they cannot remove them without indirectly making her deaf.

Her personality is the somewhat similar to Sound’s, but is far more excitable and outgoing than her brother. Just like a fox, she is clever and witty, which she demonstrates many times during combat. She has a tendencyto steal things without her knowledge. While this isn’t necessarily kleptomania, as objects appear in her hands at random, she still tries get over her childhood habit. She does have a tendency to be reckless, though this is stems from her need to be useful as her curse leaves her unable to perform all of the necessary abilities that is required of a Nors.

Another thing to know is her intense hatred towards cats. Which will be explored at a later time.

As a Cursed Blood, she can take the form of a fox. While the size varies, depending on her emotional state, she is commonly seen to change into the size similar to an elephant. If she performs multiple transformations, she will regress to a regular sized fox and sleep for an extensive period of time. She has been recommended to avoid constantly rely on her full fox form as it will hasten the progression of her curse.

After undergoing the Ascension Ceremony, she followed her brother and joined the same faction as him, but unlike him, did not join as a core member so she did not have to give up her original name. Because of the current state of her body caused by her Cursed Blood, her emotions has unknowingly lead her to become thenext Vessel of Envy.

. . .

Reihana Toelle Ur Kamaria

“Why was I born like this... what did I deserve to be cursed like this!? All I want is to hold someone without fearing I’ll crush them. I can’t be the receiver forever!”

Or Rei for short. Is a member of Mythral and is a second generation Nors. As a floater, Rei rotates between the three factions, but she usually works with Tunera Clypse. Known for her terrifying brute strength, Rei is feared by many and is challenged on a near daily basis. Because of her strength and seemingly indestructible nature, she is (much to her annoyance) sometimes used as a human shield. While she is able to take on an army by herself, Rei tries not to go all out in fear of accidentally killing her allies in the crossfire. In terms of mental maturity, aside from Xavier, she is slightly more competent and is level-headed enough to not participate in childish activities. Most of the time.

Rei prefers to ‘punch first, talk later’ when confronted, though the talking never happens as her opponents is either obliterated or immediately knocked out after one hit. While she can be aggressive at times, she merely acts out on this person's due to the rumors that were spread when word of her curse began to circulate. Those closest to her have witnessed her carefree and adventurous nature. She is also cautious and careful of her surroundings, becoming more thoughtful in the usage of her strength as a result.

As much as she loves the thrill and adrenaline that comes from combat, she prefers not to fight too often. Mostly because it usually leads to unnecessary mass destruction. She craves for proper physical contact, but due to her curse, she forces herself to avoid it as much as possible.

Being the physically oldest, next to Percy, she tends to act like the big sister of the group, which Rei has admitted she finds embarrassing. Still, she works hard in trying to act as moral support for her friends. That doesn’t stop her from losing her temper when a certain line is crossed.

As a Cursed Blood, she is cursed with immeasurable strength. Her strength doubles based on who or whatever is the strongest in a world that she sets foot in. That, of course, excludes Celestial’s as the strength of the divinity is almost non-existent. By default, back in Avarus, her usual strength is enough to crumble an entire building. In other worlds, it depends. To help control and regulate her strength during combat, she uses a large amount of Astral Dust to create form-fitting gauntlets around her lower arm. She was meant to become the Vessel of Wrath but was instead changed to be the candidate for the Vessel of Pride.

. . .

Perseus Vlahos

"I used to believe that being a hero will allow you to cement your place in history. But over time, I learned that the farther in time your name is shared in time, you become nothing more than a mere legend. Or worse, a myth. Stories can be altered, changed. If that’s the case, I’d rather not be remembered at all. I didn’t work this hard just to be written off as a bedtime story.”

Christened under the name ‘Percy the Naive’ by his best friend, later life-long rival, Wilhelm, he is the current wielder of the legendary sword; Excalibur, and member of Infernum Poncitator. Grandson of Rayner, Percy is one of the few third generation Nors in Avarus. He is a kind young man and is respected amongst his peers (well, most of them) and superiors, so much so that he has been offered the position of leader of the faction. Percy refuses as not only deems himself unworthy, but out of respect for those that have lived in Avarus longer.

He displays many the ideal traits of a knight, eventually becoming viewed as an ideal knight by others. However, deep down, Percy perceives himself as the opposite. He feels he is a dishonorable fraud and is not proud of his status as Excalibur's chosen wielder. If he was given a chance to do it over again, Percy would immediately abandon his decision never search and locate the sword.

After joining Avarus, in a short span of time, Percy was able to easily establish himself as a sort of leader figure within his faction. While serious most of the time, especially during missions, due to his time with other Nors, has displayed a degree of patience and tolerance towards whoever he is assigned. Still, he never forgets their main objective and takes charge if he deems the assigned leader incompetent. Which happens more times than he refuses to count. He tries to maintain a cool head, but will severely reprimand others if the situation calls for it.

Proficient in the ways of the sword, he garnered the attention of (the then Mongrel) Mitchell. He was very reluctant in taking in a squire. But eventually, Percy relented after the younger boy attempted to fight against an Astral and nearly lost his life. He plans to one day pass down Excalibur to Mitchell once he gains the strength to surpass Percy.

At the moment, Percy is the current Vessel of Wrath.

. . .

Noise (***** Rallus)

“I tried all of my life to give my dad a reason why he shouldn't be treating his body the way he did. I tried all of my life to keep my friend in line so I'd never have to be the one to discipline him. And yet... If only I didn't try so hard, they'd still be alive.”

Author’s Note: Yeah I... legit do not know who this belongs to. There’s the artist’s signature so that’s the good thing. Problem is....

After escaping from the confines of his original world, Eingesperrt City, and, with the help Sound, joined Avarus and assumed the title of Noise. Unlike others that were gathered in the past, Noise is a regular human being. Something only Sound knows. Regardless of the danger, he became one of the leaders for Tunera Clypse, later joining Mythral after adapting to his new lifestyle.

He wears one of the Artifacts in order to copy and use only one ability of his choosing. As long as a piece of original user is within the Artifact, Noise can use it for as long as he wants. However, if its been removed and replaced with something else, the previous copied ability cannot be used ever again.

Since his recruitment, Noise adopted an extremely lazy personality. He’s so lazy that somehow even snoring consumes too much energy. To make sure he’s awake most of the time, Sound forced Noise to set up a sleep schedule, so that when he’s ready, he has enough energy to do SOMETHING. However, no matter where he is, he’ll take every opportunity to take a nap. He doesn’t care. As long as he gets to close his eyes, Noise is fine to sleep wherever, even if it involves napping righ at the edge of a volcano.

He’ll get annoyed if anyone that dares try to wake him up and he’ll be in a fowl mood for the rest of the day. The only exception is the fox girl and his lover. Despite this, he displays a certain degree of kindness. It’s just really hard to tell if what he’s doing is truly an act of kindness or he’s just too lazy to do things such as delivering a ‘motivational speech’. He can be blunt when he has to be, and he tends to come off as a jackass rude because of his personality. However, this is his way of showing he cares. Noise will flat out tell you if he dislikes you.

Another thing to know about him is his crude sense of humor. Combined with his blunt and rude nature towards people, mostly acquaintances and strangers, it always leads to various... Misunderstandings. Worst case scenario? A fight. He'd improve if he could, but he won't.

Look, if you haven't figure out that he's lazy after reading all this, gooood luck.

For reasons unknown, despite becoming the next Vessel of Sloth, it remains dormant within him. They thought of extracting it to learn the causes that led up to its current dormant state, but Sound intervened in time as he knew that extracting it by force will kill the the vessel.

. . .

Michael/Raphael/Gabriel/Uriel/Saraqael/Raguel/Remiel/etc

‘Dragons are raised under the false pretense that they are the supreme species above all others. But that merely obscures the truth; the truth that we’re just as vulnerable as anyone else. There are various ways to kill aside from piercing our hearts with a spear.”

Author’s Note: Just so you know, HE’S BLONDE and has green eyes! This was the only option I have that closely resembles how I envisioned him! There was another because he gives off the same atmosphere when you look at him but... he’s from an otome game. And I only learned that recently so, if the same goes for this one? WELP. Oh and he has patches of dark brown scales on part of his skin.

Neither a Quietus Nors nor a resident of Avarus, Michael is a dragon. His version of his race if capable of transformation, but can only change into the form of the last creature they devoured. Whole. Rather than his true form, in order to remain working in Avarus, chose to work in the form of the former Prince of Edrakon, a world where dragons were enslaved and cruelly treated as mere objects. Despite his appearance not being his own, he maintains an intimidating and powerful aura, which is easily distinguishable even within a large crowd.

Due to the high esteem he holds towards his race and his pride as a Dragon, he can come off as domineering, even becoming critical towards other versions of his race if he finds something illogical or nonsensical in their appearance and their abilities. While he does act this way, he finds it absolutely disgusting to find dragons place themselves in a position of power and abuses their power in controlling another species. Another aspect of him is that he looks down on dragons with physical defects, which is mostly directly aimed as himself due to his extremely poor eyesight. Thus, forcing him to rely on his human form to watch glasses. He also has a very confusing naming system; where he changes his name based on the date, time and temperature.

Micheal held the potential required to become a Nors, but because of his age, he was unable to undergo the necessary steps to fully integrate into Avarus. While others are reluctant to have him join their ranks, several others, for different reasons, allowed him to remain. This eventually allowed others to accept his addition to the organization.

As the one in charge of organizing and handling most of Avarus’ internal affairs, a job the Nors, even the Ex-Anima/Animus, are reluctant in taking up such an important position; he takes his job very seriously. Although he does express some contempt towards humans, this does not extend to the people he works with. He cares about them to a certain degree, which is shown by he constantly reprimands whoever acts risky during a mission.

He is the current Vessel of Pride, something he only learns of later on. Despite the fact Micheal is a vessel, Belial believes this is only temporary. He isn’t particularly close with Belial, but he respects the God enough to follow his orders.

. . .

Ulric Soknawo

'In my tribe, I was considered an outcast. You can thank the unnatural union that birthed me. Now? It hasn’t changed much, but at least I’m no longer considered the runt of the pack.’

Whose other name is Kuckunniwi, is a former member of the Aniwaya Tribe. In their world, his people are Natives who worshipped a guardian Wolf Spirit. According to them, in return for their unyielding loyalty and devoted nature, it granted the people with the power to take the form of the spirit they have worshipped for many generations. So long as they use that power to protect the forest, it shall provide them protection. Ulric is the third, second youngest, illegitamate son of the Tribal chief Tamaska and grandson of Wolfram.

As per tradition, all tribesmen are given two names, one for their human form while the other is for their inner wolf. Despite being allowed to use either name like others of his tribe, he refuses to be use his wolf name due to the meaning behind it. After being discovered by Ayane, she brought and recruited him to Avarus. Ulric is considered to be a Third Generation Nors due the fact his father was (oddly) not born a Nors, or had to potential to be converted into one.

Ulric tends to act like the stereotypical lone-wolf, choosing to remain in solitude and observe from a distance. He likes to spend his quiet time alone, though he does allow others to sit next to him when asked. Many have pointed out that he never smiles, but, as much as he hates to quote Noise, states that if there is no reason to smile, there is no reason to put so much effort in abusing his facial muscles.

As much as he loves being a wolf, he finds certain aspects of his second nature to be... aggravating. Depending on the season and the weather, it deals a the effects his wolf instincts on his human nature. Because of the two separate natures continually clashing, he tends to act irritable and his temper worsens, especially during the night. Ulric holds a strong belief that one’s nature, regardless of your race, should never control a one's personal feelings.

He holds an unyielding loyalty to his loved ones, almost to the point of willing to kill for them if the situation calls for it, but his actions are subtle and tends to be the exact opposite of how he truly feels. Only two people in his life have been able to decipher his behavior, and he cherishes them for it. Ulric has a bit of a temper as well but is able to keep it in check. His temper, however, is what led him to becoming a Cursed Blood. His curse forces him to foresee the deaths of whomever he romantically falls in love (or at least feel an interest) with.

Any attempts at interfering will only hasten their death.

. . .

Xavier Wozwald Hawthorne

'Murderers are dumbasses, always killing because of their unchecked emotions and pented up desires. Hence why most of them clumsily try to hide their crime. Serial killers are more... sofisticated with their craft, but their ego always gets in the way. If they weren’t complete dumbasses, they would have lived a long comfortable life. I should know.’

Note: Yes, this is obviously Vflower. Did I know that before? No. Do I plan to change the art reference? Yes, but only when I find one that’s not a god dang real-life person’s online avatar. XD Seriously, each time I thought I found one... it’s an utaite or vtuber.

Is a member of Mythral and a First Generation Nors. Like Rei, he is a Floater, which allows him to particiate in mission for all three factions. However, he prefers to work with those in Tunera Clypse as, since they mostly handle scouting and recruiting missions. As long as he doesn’t remain in Avarus for too long, he's fine with accepting any mission related to Tunera. Xavier will still accept missions from other factions, but that's merely to fill up his quota.

Despite appearing around the age 12-14; which was not by choice, Xavier is in fact mentally older than most of his fellow Nors. Known for his sharp tongue, Xavier is one of the few known Nors to have been granted permission to travel outworld immediately after undergoing the Ascenscion Ceremony.

Due to the experiences his past life went through, Xavier has a very grim outlook of the world and displays little to no respect towards authority figures. And that includes his current patron God; Belial, which only worsens after being told by the God that he is unable to help Xavier grow into the appropriate intended size. Unlike most Nors, he displays a high degree of critical thinking and intelligent. He is, if not more, level-headed than one of his friends; Percy. Though that doesn’t stop the teasing. While confident in his abilities in terms of combat, Xavier knows the limits of his current smaller body.

In order to compensate, he creates an excessively large scythe as compensation, but he's too proud to admit this.

Because of his level of maturity, he has been labeled as a 'Midget Grandpa'. Which he fails at trying to prove otherwise by collecting certain tthings that are considered out of date by their standards. Eventually, it became a soft of hobby for him to collect such things.

Xavier tends to display a sadistic nature while in combat, choosing to taunt his opponent by constantly pointing our their obvious flaws deficits and toy with them until the last minute. Most times, he will use his child-like appearance to his advantage to further torment his opponent/victim. Comically enough, if his opponent is a cold-blooded criminal, Xavier will compliment and , depending on their actions, congratulate them; much to the annoyance of those involved.

Like Sound, he has both a Physical and Blood-based Curse, but unlike the latter, Xavier was born with both. His Physical Curse has caused severe permanent scarring on his right arm, making it appear similar to third degree burns. If freed from any type of coverage, such as bandages, his arm will painfully be set a blazed, forcing him to conceal his arm at all times. As a Cursed Blood, Xavier has a similar effect of a Siren, except his hypnotic singing forces someone to commit suicide. Every time he uses this curse, he temporarily falls into a coma.

. . .

Succu(bus) Kilmer

Like her name suggests, Succu is a succubus, but belongs to a different version of her species. Due to being a demon, she is forbidden to reveal her true name. Succu is neither a Nors nor a Cursed Blood. She’s more of an illegal immigrant after sneaking her way into a group of Nors when they were scouting for potential recruits. There have been many attempts in trying to relocate her back to her original world, but she is able to seduce her attackers and slip away. Eventually, Belial declared that she will be allowed to remain as a resident, so long as she contributes in their mission to locate Soleil.

While they do seduce those of the opposite sex, her source of food is not as grotesque as several others. She does seduce her victim, but moves her body in a way that her victims find alluring. Succu will then massage certain parts of their body as a means to relax them. To assure that they will not attempt to escape, she will release pheremones that nulls the victims senses. What she devours isn’t the flesh of her victim nor does she devour their soul, she merely devours the emotions she was able to invoke until her hunger is quenched.

Succu is flirtaceous and very... very.... VERY- Well, you get the point. While she doesn’t flaunt her beauty, she does know how to use it to her advantage. However, despite many approaching her, Succu has only eyes for one, and is willing to wait as long as possible for that person to reciprocate her feelings. Succu, although assertive and open with her feelings, is not the type to force them onto someone.

She does like to express herself by getting physical - very physical. Not the way that you’re thinking, you perverts. She finds it more convenient to allow her actions to talk rather than saying things verbally. Since she’s an outsider, she notices several things that not even Pery or Ulric have noticed, and both are outsiders as well considering the fact they grew up outworld before being recruited. Regardless, she remains silent for the sake of remaining by her beloved’s side.

Succu is often mistaken as the Vessel of Lust due to her nature, and, on her part, finds it’s tiresome to prove that she is not.

Side Characters

Tank Mortem

A former member of Tunera Clypse and Mythral, Tank has been assigned to act as one of the engineers in maintaining the Infernian Generator due to his body’s condition and the issues of his mental state. He seldom participates in missions but, despite being given strict orders not to, joins in anyway. Due to the limits of his mental capacity, Tank has difficulty interacting with others. Quite literally.

Beatrix Staccato

Is a researcher and inventor in charge of the tools and weaponry utilized by most Nors and Ex-Animus. Having taken over most of the unfinished projects since the passing of his master, Beatrix has dedicated all of his time in improving the welfare of the world and its inhabitants. However, most of his experiments tend to be a bit... over the top. If he’s not thinking of new potential products that may benefits the Nors, he’ll make whatever comes at the top of his head, and most of the time it’ll lead him to make the most outrageous and unnecessary items. Beatrix prefers to remain in his lab/home at all times, rendering his social interactions with the three factions to be limited via holographic meetings.

‘Nyx’ Pierrot

Leader of Vanidicus Persona, she is one of the oldest Nors - next to Constantine - making her the default leader of her faction. Much about her is a mystery. Even her behavior can be viewed as... questionable. Not outlandish, that’s Sound’s department. Her behavior is so odd that it’s enough to baffle even Belial. She takes her leadership over her faction very seriously, however, as part of her nature, the requirements in joining and maintaining your membership vastly deviates from the original. However, looks can be deceiving. Aside from her seniority, there is a reason why she was given the position of leader.

Mitchell Pierrot

He prefers to be called as ‘Mitch’ after being told, and proven, by his sister how much of a tongue twister his name is if repeated constantly in a single conversation. While he is the younger brother of Nyx, Mitch opted to become a submember of Tunera Clypse upon undergoing the Ascension Ceremony to be in the same faction as his mentor, Perseus Vlahos. Compared to the Nors in his batch, he is viewed as weak by many as he is unable to perform the abilities that is expected of him to develop after becoming a Nors.

Constantine L. Refrain

Nothing is truly known about him except that he’s a chronic smoker. Nobody truly knows who he is, no one even knows which faction he belongs to. It’s nearly impossible to question these things as he is constantly surrounded by a shroud of - barely tolerable - smoke. All that is known is that he’s been around longer than most of the Ex-Animus. Constantine usually frequints the Silent Siren Bar, staying there for hours until he’s either drunk or needs to receive another pack of cigarretes from Beatrix. He says they’re for medicinal purposes buuuuut...

I’m pretty sure black smoke isn’t normal.

Stefan Mal Sorcier

Is Percy’s second pupil. Although, it was more like Percy was forced into taking in another after his continual refusal to become leader of Infernum Poncitator. Outwardly, he is aloof and always appears smiling, which unsettles Mitchell even when they’re alone. His politeness is found unusual by many and causes others to feel wary around him. Even the dragon finds himself is unable to remain in the same vicinity as the young man. Despite being full of many secrets, Percy accepts him as is and tries his best to teach him all he can, which Stefan appreciates.

Kyline Necro

Considered as the mascot ambassador of Avarus, like the soul that was fused with her upon birth, she mostly lounges around and has little participation in any missions in and out of Avarus. This has caused her to be disliked by many, most especially Ayane. The only person Kyline has gotten close to is Noise; mostly because they share the same favored sleeping spot. On a side, she acts a physician, or surgeon if you like to get technical. She has a strange fondness of picking apart and replacing specific limbs with doll parts.

Yu-Yan Chi Ryou

Was once one of the strongest Nors from Xavier’s batch until he was inflicted by an unknown disease during one of his missions. While there is no name for the disease, it has caused much of his bones to undergo crystallization; rendering him immobile due to the pain that comes from even the smallest of movements. Since he is incapable in participating in any activities, Yu-Yan has since been forced to be confined to a wheel chair for the rest of his life.

Anita Eine Kleine

Is the fighting instructor of the Mongrels and a member of Infernum Poncitator. Anita is a highly-skilled caster, able to conjure and manipulate various elements. She absolutely hates the term ‘witch’, even going as far as to cast a minor curse in making a person temporarily mute if they refer to her as one. Which Sound found rather offensive when he found out about the curse, something she deeply apologized for. She participates in some Scouting Missions but only if personally requested by someone from Tunera Clypse.

Victor Stein

Is Beatrix’s (only living) research assistant. He is the sole survivor of the Night of the Black Moon. Although having physically recovered, the damage to his mental state has left a deep scar on his psyche. He fears yet obsesses over the sensation of pain. There is not one instance where he isn’t found sowing over his own intact skin. While Victor knows his addiction found uncomfortable by others, he finds it extremely difficult to control his urges.

Wolfram

Grandfather of Ulric and most of his siblings, he is an Ex-Anima (or retired Nors) and a former member of the original Mythral. As the more experienced and one of the longest surviving resident of Avarus, he acts as a mentor to those who seek his guidance. However, in terms of combat, his skills are very limited as he has become permanently stuck in his wolf form. The only grandchildren he's ever personally met are Ulric and Seeing, who have both ironically became his favorite. While acting as a mentor, he is rather strict, constantly parting lessons in order to make sure none make the same mistakes he committed when he was younger, many of which he refuses to share.

Diantha Anemone

Despite being still a Liberi, Dia still participates in many activities meant to be done only by Nors. She originally wanted to become a part of Tunera Clypse due to the many adventures imparted by Sound. But after having a first hand experience in one, it traumatized her to the point where she wants to merely work as a Librarian, a position many people avoid.

Echo & Yell

Fellow teammates of Sound and Noise. As part of the four heads leaders that overwatch many of Tunera Clypse's activities, both in and out of Avarus. They mostly take charge of delegating the members while the other two take an active role in leading many scouting missions off-world. Contradicting her name, like Sound and Noise, her personality is the completely opposite. Due to her sociophobia, she is extremely shy and is unable to speak when talked to, only whispering her sentences as she talks. Yell, however, is the only one whose personality fits the mantle she inherited. Due to her curse, she has to raise her voice after every two hours. If not, she will fall into a coma, and she can only be awaken by *************.

Important Figures

Belial

Credits to: @airtrees0507 (Again, another artist who... disappeared from the internet. How do I keep finding refrences where the artist is just gone?)

Is a Celestial and the younger brother of Soleil. However, despite his godly status, he does not have any of the expected gifts. Neither a god of creation, life, or death, he has been given the title God of Void by his peers. Because of this, he is incapable of maintaining Avarus by himself, forcing him to use alternative (and questionable) means in preserving the world his sister created. Like his title, Belial is unable to express emotions, giving blank demeanor. He does, however, hold some semblence of emotions within him. Yet despite this, he has little to no understanding of life, death and emotions. Even after centuries since he over his sister’s role as Patron God, he still has no understanding to all living things, almost to the point of coming off as insensitive and heartless.

Belial has a deep devotion to his sister, having gone through great lengths to make sure to maintain her world and willingly sacrifice the lives of many. Despite knowing her distaste towards such acts, he holds onto the hope of one day finding her.

Soleil

Credits: Um... Lucare Eu??? Sorry, I’m just basing it off the signature. Once again, can’t find the artist themself so...

The true patron goddess of Avarus and the older sister of Belial. Aside from her status as the original creator and caretaker of her world and the life that once flourished within it, not much is known about her. While her exact cause of death is unknown, she was cursed to live an endless cycle of death and rebirth in various worlds. In order to restore the world she created and loved dearly, Belial dedicated his life in searching for her soul and freeing her of her curse. As a Celestial, she was said to have chosen to take the form of her first ever creation and first mortal friend.

It is said that, despite having blessed with the gift of creation, she was known to be a lonely goddess. Those that new her describe as someone that’s physically there but is spiritually detached.

The Oracle

Is a title given to those with the ability to commune and guide the spirits to the Empyrean Plain, more specifically Avarus’ residences due to the absence of Soleil. The Oracle acts as the divine anchor on the world to aid Belial in prolonging the world��s existence. They are also the main source of Belial’s divine power; both of which are maintained through her prayers. The gender and species of the Oracle is non-specific, but it if preferred by Belial if they are humanoid and have the ability of speech for the sake of communication.

The current Oracle is Aniela Fischl, who, unlike her predecessors, is able to foresee various futures. She does so by carefully peeking through the leylines and selects various possibilities that solely benefit Avarus. No one is allowed to meet her except Belial and her assigned Seekers.

The Seekers

The guardians, caretaker, and acting medians between the Oracle and the residents of Avarus. Their duty is to ensure that the chosen Oracle remains within the Spiral Tower and that he/she fulfills their duty, even going as far as to grant their wish regardless of the consequenses. Each Seeker has only one desire, and that’s to protect the Oracle at all times.

Races

Liberi

Age Range: Birth or 5 to 10 years

Although that is the official term, ‘Mongrel’ is what they are commonly referred as. It is the used for the for the children taken to or born in Avarus. Mongrels spend most of their young lives training within the safe walls of the Aldebaran Academy. They are forbidden from leaving as, according to Belial, they are the extremely fragile during this point of their lives. Regardless of their age, depending on how well they’ve performed in training, they will be given the right of undergoing the Ascension Ceremony. Those who fail are xxxxxxxx xx.

Due to their young age, their behavior is more sporadic than that of a normal child. Their reflexes are enhanced, almost to the point where it becomes difficult to contain them. Mongrels lack common sense so they tend to act out without fully understanding the impact their actions have. While childish and friendly by nature, Travellers are advised to approach with caution. Those who act beyond the expected norm are called Prodigies.

Quietus Nors

Age Range: (Physically) 14-19, (Mentally) 10 or above

Or simply called, Nors. After their graduation, every Nors is immediately sent to work. Depending on the final results of their training prior to undergoing the ceremony/procedure, each is individually assigned into one of the three factions ; Infernum Poncitator, Vanidicus Persona, and lastly, Tunera Clypse (formerly called Tunera). Those that are assigned to neither of the factions are assigned to more menial jobs alongside the Ex-Animus,

Despite their young minds, they have quickly adapted into their new forms. Due to time becoming almost non-existant in Avarus, Nors age at a rapidly slow rate. Though known to be childish by nature due to the gap of their young minds to their bodies, they dangerously lack empathy and display little to no compassion and remorse towards others. In worst cases, some act selfishly on their own accord. On a positive note, they lack any emotions that may hinder their mission in locating Soleil; such as fear.

Only two of the three current generations of Nors differ greatly from the first:

First Generation Nors - Are those converted or directly born within Avarus with the blood of two Nors. Those born in the first generation share two specific physical characteristics; raven black hair and golden eyes. They all share the same abilities upon conversion/birth, but it depends on the individual which ones they should master. Unless they happen to be a Cursed Blood, they are unable to obtain different abilities to call their own. They are required to undergo the Ascension Ceremony.

Second Generation Nors - In terms of personality, they are considered half as bad as those in the first gen. Unlike the previous, second generation Nors are considered slightly weaker, however, they have a better chance of obtaining other abilities outside of Avarus. Their hair is slightly lighter shade of black but their eyes remain the same. They too are required to undergo the Ascension Ceremony.

Third Generation Nors - While rare, they do tend to appear once in a while. It’s not exact how one falls into this category. The closest is being the grandchild or who has an anscestor that was a Nors. Because of their circumstances, these Nors are far weaker as they cannot use any of the standard abilities. Third Generation Nors are far difficult to locate as their potential doesn’t surface until they are of a much later age, rendering them incapable of taking necessary training to hone their abilities and undergoing the Ascension Ceremony. They do not share the common personality or physical traits of a Nors. One thing every Nors in this generation share are sky blue eyes, which emit a faint glow when in the dark.

Ex-Animus (or Anima for singular)

Age Range: (Physically) 30 to 40, rarely appears in their early 20′s

Are individuals who are retired from their duties as a Nors. Although Nors generally age at an excessively slow rate (due to the effects of Avarus), after a number of cycles (which refers to the number of batches that underwent the Ascension Ceremony), they will be given the order to retire. Regardless whether they are willing to or not, there is nothing they can do once the order has been issued. Once one becomes an Ex-Anima, they are completely cut off from their original faction and are unable to leave Avarus for the rest of their life.

Not only that, they are unable to defend themselves like they used to as they can no longer control Astral Dust and use the abilities from their time as a Nors,Basically. Basically, Ex-Animus’ are left to fend for themselves.

Factions

Every Nors is allowed to join any of the three factions; Infernum Poncitator, Vanidicus Persona , and Tunera Clypse. There is an option to not join any of the factions; they are called ‘Floaters’.

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aislingeu · 3 years

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hello!! i’m kq ( aka kelsey quinn! ) i’m twenty five, livin in the est, usin she / her pronouns!! much like the good buddy who turned me on to this rp, i don’t know a ton about percy jackson!! but mythology was one of the few subjects that held my attention in school, so i hoe i have a good handle on it! :D for now, i manage a comic book store from thursdays - sundays, so i’m scarce those times but i’m usually on discord!!

⟨ ABIGAIL COWEN. CIS FEMALE. SHE / HER ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, AISLING DUNN is actually a descendant of H Y P N O S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old PAINTING MAJOR from DUBLIN, IRELAND has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite CLEVER & COARSE.

this got way longer than i intended im so sorry...

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

she was born on march 12th, 1997 to a pair of irish musicians ( conor and dierdre dunn ) and, unwittingly, one greek god ( hypnos ) in dublin, ireland. her parents met and married shortly after her conception and neither of them suspected that conor wasn’t aisling’s father, until she was claimed.

as an only child, her parents didn’t have much to compare her too in terms of overall strangeness. for years, they wrote off her abilities as kids just sayin’ the darndest things. they remained blissfully unaware of the impact of their daughter’s words, rolling their eyes fondly, when she told them about the man in the cave, who came to her in dreams. they smiled and laughed, when she strangers at the supermarket that she thought erwin was a fine name to give a teddy bear, no matter what anyone else said. how were they to know that she was unearthing the fond childhood memories that passersby had almost forgotten?

when she enrolled in primary school, they realized that she was... strange, if not special. she was recognized as a bit of a space case, often staring at nothing in particular, while her teacher droned on. her worksheets were seldom turned in complete. instead, aisling began gifting poorly drawn family portraits on the blank sides of her papers, likenesses plucked from the memories she explored when her mind wandered, in class.

eventually, after her skill had developed and people stopped writing off the stick figures as ‘coincidentally accurate’, people began to truly take notice. they speculated that she was a medium, silently communing with the dead and painting their pictures as she did. how else could she know what her art teacher’s late father looked like? and what color tie he always liked to wear? she had to be a psychic. recipients of her art were always so focused on their perception of the little girl with the gift of sight that they hardly even realized what she had tweaked, brightening up their darkest memories, just so they wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. she hardly even realized, herself.

without a reason to believe otherwise, she told the man in her dreams that she was a psychic, but he knew differently. he told her that that wasn’t so. she was special, yes, but not in the ways that the world thought her to be. hypnos let her in on the secret he’d been keeping for the past twelve years and, just like that, aisling could make sense of herself. once she knew the truth, she chased sleep. she spent as much time as she could, communicating with the one person who understood who she was. he saw her hunger for belonging and pointed her in the direction of the camp nearest to her hometown.

after a summer away, she came home faced with a challenge in morality that she’d never considered, as a child. she came home to a world where she could no longer fit. her party tricks had lost their luster the moment she realized that true value of a memory, however sad, was worth far more than the cheap smiles that her alterations had afforded. with that realization, her art took a darker turn. unable to shift the memories she saw into the light, they haunted her. she now saw their fears and heartbreaks for what they were: unchangeable. and, now, they lived within her, too. putting them to paper was the only way to get them out. but, pieces like those weren’t the kind that could be sent home to mom and dad. pieces like those were the kind that got her meetings with guidance counselors and haunted, fleeting looks from those whose memories she’d never meant to disturb. after a year of that, aisling went back to camp, full time.

once she was a year round resident of the camp, she found herself more comfortable around people who understood; there was nothing she had to hide, among those who were like her. each one of them was fighting an uphill battle of their own. they didn’t have to hide it. even if she never allowed herself to get too close, aisling never felt all that far away, at camp.

at eonia, aisling spends most of her days painting, sleeping, or working. raised by a pair of mortal musicians, finding a job at fireside records felt like a natural progression. where her godly parent thrives in silence, she finds her comfort in noise. it’s easier to block out the things she doesn’t need to see when there’s something immediate for her to focus on. at the other end of that spectrum, aisling finds her mind most open in visual arts club, trying to keep her other creative skills sharp, while she keeps her primary focus on painting. in search of inspiration, her mind reaches out in tendrils, dipping into another’s until she finds something she can work with. she only needs to leave the room before they’ve realized what she’s borrowed.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

aisling is a naturally empathetic person, always wishing she could do more to help those around her. unfortunately, she knows that she can’t always honor that instinct. her abilities and self-imposed limitations have left her with a hardened exterior that isn’t easy to break through. those who pass through her walls see a softer side: a steadfast friend, always there to put a peaceful end to their sleepless nights or calm their worst nightmares, with a gentle run of her fingers through their hair. but sometimes, she’ll wall herself away from even those she’s closest to after she finds herself in the middle of a particularly harrowing memory. because of this, maintaining close bonds for long is a difficult thing. given her propensity for accidentally rifling through the fondest and most fearsome parts of peoples’ pasts, she’s been known cut them out of her life when she sees something that she has the urge to alter.

𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

MEMORY RETRIEVAL — for as long as she could remember, aisling knew things that she shouldn’t. at first, her parents just dismissed her gift as imagination and observation combining in a perfect, creepy storm. it wasn’t until she started attending school, picked up her finger paints, and started to draw out moments from the pasts of strangers that people started to truly take notice. sloppy scenes from the librarian’s wedding day graduated into well sketched portraits of her bus driver’s dalmatians. she liked to take those happy moments, immortalize them in art, and hand them off to the owners of the memories. she liked to make people smile. sometimes, she took that a step further. too young to see the value in sadness, aisling would tweak the memories that were harder to bear; even if she couldn’t bring someone happiness in the present, she hoped she could bring them comfort in the future. it wasn’t until she was claimed that aisling saw the flaws in her intervention. it wasn’t until she was taught the consequences that she knew she had to stop. although the memories came to her unbidden, they didn’t belong to her and she had no right to change them. instead of focusing on the alteration of memories, aisling opted to try to learn how to shut them out. like her other powers, though, there’s a direct correlation between her emotional state and her ability to keep a wall up. when she’s feeling something strongly or hasn’t gotten enough sleep, she sees things that she doesn’t mean to.

HYPNOKINESIS — you are getting very sleepy… what proved to be a fun tool at sleepovers had more practical applications than aisling knew possible. the skill of inducing sleep was easy enough to come by and influencing dreams was as simple as altering memories. and while ( without intending to ) she’d been known to cause visions when tensions ran high, refining those visions into ones that took the shapes she wanted them to took practice. even more difficult than that was learning to astral project, but that became a necessity, coming hand-in-hand with building her mental walls. when the uninvited memories start to weigh on her, she’s learned that it’s best to remove herself from the immediate vicinity. even if she’s only technically leaving in her head.

OTHER ABILITIES — ( levitation ) a skill she only possesses in sleep, predominantly when her dreams are eliciting strong emotions. ( seeing the gods in dreams ) this is how she formed and maintained a relationship with her father, despite her parents being unaware of their daughter’s godly lineage. on occasion, she’ll encounter gods that she’s less familiar with and, in most of those cases, she’s been known to force herself awake.

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

there are so many cool, fun things runnin through my brain right now!! i think it would be lovely for her to have forged a friendship with an insomniac or maybe someone prone to nightmares that she could help! and those fun customer service relationships with record store regulars!! or maybe a former friend or significant other, who aisling left behind? maybe even altering their memory slightly, if the parting of ways was ugly! who knows! the possibilities are endless!! and i’m always up to hearing other peoples’ ideas because the Sweet Lord knows i am not the most imaginative person in any given room!!!

thank u for reading ilu!!!

#euintro #death cw //#i think i covered everything!! if u have any questions lemme know!! i can clarify probably!!

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junkyardlynx · 4 years

Text

As the wind stroked his boyish face, Gran found himself smiling softly. Not one of previously unrealized joy, nor the fragile countenance of someone on the edge of sorrow. No, it was a smile of resignation. Not over anything huge, really, but more a persistent fact of his strange life.

He would always be underestimated.

The breeze’s affection turned fickle and slipped away, leaving only stillness and birdsong to fill the tree he was perched in. The light armor he wore fit him well - a black ensemble, decorated with geometrical splashes of red and trimmed in gold. The plates were near-weightless, but they were tough enough to take all manner of punishment; the master artisan six islands back claimed the whole set was forged from adamantite. The matching gauntlets fit him like a second skin, responsive and pliable and even as he leaned forward on the spindly branch, the greaves gave not a creak or a groan.

By all accounts, the armor was fit for a majestic king, or perhaps a revered general. Not a boy who barely looked sixteen summers. So, who then? One would be forgiven if they mistook him for a prince, or perhaps an up-and-coming knight-commander. His features were handsome, if boyish, and people always told him that he had a “very dashing” air to him. As if that actually meant anything.

No, Gran was none of those things. By birth, he was a nobody from the edge of the known sky, left with his friend that was definitely not a lizard. By trade, he was a skyfarer captain. By destiny, one who shared his life with the Girl in Blue. And by effort? Well, that was the one he was most happy to share. Not that anyone ever believed him at first.

By effort, he could be summed up in four words.

Conqueror of the Eternals.

A boy of sixteen, now going on twenty-two, was the one who bested all ten Eternals in single combat? Even to himself, it sounded like a nice story and nothing more. Even though he lived every moment of it. The more spectacular details, like the defeat of the Erste Empire and his rejection of the True King’s offer were public knowledge. Though, well, it was true that they tended to draw his likeness a bit taller, and his face a bit more rugged. Artists paint what they feel, even if they don’t know it, even if they try and hide it. The bias creeps in. Surely whoever performed these fantastic deeds couldn’t be a sixteen year old kid. It was probably a part of the tale added later to spice it up and make it marketable for local papers.

Well, they were sort of right. When he rejected the “True King” and his poisoned wish, Gran was just about to turn twenty-two. Four months later, he now found himself intervening in a messy war between two kingdoms with his friend and crewmate Altair.

Six years. Six years had passed. Six years that showed nowhere on his face, his countenance. Nowhere save his eyes.

It started six years ago. He’d died protecting a terrified girl. A girl he didn’t even know. Even now, if Gran was left to his own devices, he could taste that choking pain -- not the way his lungs seared from the hydra’s flame, nor the gash in his side from the hydra’s claws. No, it was the pain of being powerless. The pain of not being able to reach his hand up to the sky and ask his father in hated grief if he was proud. Proud that unlike his old man, Gran didn’t abandon a child in their time of need.

So when that girl in blue did something impossible, he made two little promises inside of his weak heart.

One, never let anyone hurt her again.

Two, never feel that way again.

Six years and four months showed only in the tone of his muscles and the strength of his gait. The softness of his steps, the way he would round a corner like a prowling lion due to the endless combat he found himself engaged in. How long was it until he figured out the peculiarities of his resurrected body? His hair and nails grew, he still had to eat and sleep and still smelled awful when covered in silverslime after a successful hunt. Open wounds bled and illness forced him to bed.

But he didn’t age.

He probably realized it after teasing Rackam about his patchwork scruff one day. Rackam had lost his razor and was pilfering through the kitchen for a spare, muttering about the “damn gremlins” who “sneak aboard even though people are on watch duty.”

The exchange wasn’t noteworthy, really. Rackam had laughed and jabbed his index finger into the captain’s cheek, wondering when his peach fuzz would finally pack its bags and leave for more hairy locales.

Rackam’s voice echoed in his head.

“C’mon cap, aren’t you eighteen now? You gotta have more than this in ya!”

---

Weird how such a statement could open a can of worms. Last he checked, he wasn’t in the worm business, either. Well, unless Altair’s little solo mission for me involves worms somehow.

Gran hadn’t honestly asked for details since Altair didn’t seem to think they were important. The gist of his part in the greater plan amounted to “stop the western advance.” Simple and concise, really. The field he was scouting below the tree was still and peaceful, seemingly unaware of both the passage of time and the rumblings of war. The breeze kicked up again, carving gentle waves through the grass, and memory pulled him back under.

---

After that, it was impossible for Gran not to notice everything strange thing going on with his body. Despite nearing the age of nineteen, not a single hair managed to grace his face. Meanwhile, he could still tan (and burn) under the blazing sun and if he chose, he could grow the hair on his head as long as he liked. As an experiment, he’d left one toenail to grow as long as it could, just to see what happened. Other than a supremely stubbed toe one early morning followed by a string of swears angry enough to make Eugen blush, nothing came of his experiment.

If was as if nobody has given his body the blueprints for life after sixteen, as if the existence of “Gran as a person” was tied to his current general appearance, as if something altogether removed from natural biology had decided that “this” was Gran. Whatever was supposed to come after simply...didn’t. Naturally, Gran lost his mind a bit. Only a bit, though. He had the good sense to seek out the famous alchemist and self-proclaimed cutest girl in the world, Cagliostro. She’d joined the crew a while ago and had a keen intellect when it came to matters of the body and it’s intricate workings. After all, she’d made one for herself, probably countless times. Her verdict?

She was stumped.

Apparently, senescence - the process of cells deteriorating after copying themselves over long amounts of time, leading to aging - had stopped in Gran. Sort of. The truth was much stranger. She’d been having him report to her little workshop on the Grancypher twice a week, taking blood and tissue samples much to his immediate and mildly painful dismay. This process continued on for three months before her exasperation and wonder lead her to discuss her findings with “cute, baffling little Gran.”

“Basically, captain! You’re aging just right for the first eight samples. The only way to tell is to be able to “find” the itty bitty little bit of info that goes missing from the blueprint of “you” every time your cells divide. I imagine the Astrals put it in as a sort of safety fe-errrrr, moving on! So! Being the inimitable genius I am, I noticed something about the ninth set of samples. They’re alllllmost the same as the first. Way too close. You don’t just get that bit back for no reason, and you really don’t get THAT much back for any reason.”

Gran nodded slowly, already onto what she was talking about. However, knowing that Cagilostro loved a.) having a captive audience and b.) herself, he let her continue.

“I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure, and positing a hypothesis that early on when I might have just mixed up the samples would be irresponsible. So I waited until that Saturday when I got to stab and slice you again, triple-checking that alllll the samples were out of my workshop. Same result! They looked just like the second sample, even fresh farm-to-table.”

She turned an adorably calculated and seemingly malicious smile to Gran as her explanation ended. Though it wasn’t exactly news, her words were still unnerving. After all, his cells were basically rolling back the clock of aging every four weeks. You know, normal things.

“You know how much I’d give to figure out your secret? Even ignoring the fact that it certainly has to do with whatever Lyria did to you three years ago, this is a discovery so amazing you’d think I’d invented it. Your body is pretty much just removed from time! It’s almost envious enough to make me cry. I can’t believe you, making a genius cry. It’s honestly ridiculous. You can obviously still put on muscle mass and your brain isn’t fried like one of those Golden Friday SHRIMP.”

For a bit there after that, Gran lost a...well, a bit more of his mind. If he had to be honest. Three days locked up in his room, not letting anyone in, not even Vyrn. He poured over alchemical texts, medical documents, arcane and state secrets, anything the Grandcypher had that might be pertinent. After three days of intense study, stopping only for the necessities of life, Gran came to an answer. Well, his answer.

Did it matter?

Had his sword arm stayed the same over those three years? No. Was his cut not deadlier, his stab not sharper, his fist not faster? Had his body not taken on the tone and muscle of someone who fought primals -- and prevailed? The difference between the weak Gran of three years ago and the Gran of today was immeasurable. The young man who had once fallen to a single tortured hydra now found himself battling ancient primal beasts of war and guile on a monthly basis.

He may not ever have a thick Draph-sized mustache and his cheeks might permanently retain their tender charm no matter his age, but his body was fit to fight. To protect. To chase his absent father until the end of the sky. That’s what mattered. Though he was quite sure Cagilostro would tease him endlessly for his answer.

With newfound determination, Gran threw himself into what the rest of the crew considered hellish training simply because he knew he could endure it. It was a way to prove himself - even after death, even after abandonment, he was worth something. He had value and merit and talent, but also the drive and yearning to turn it into something. In the wake of this new regiment for himself and his little visit to a certain alchemist on board, rumors crept up. Slow and steady at first, they soon burned like wildfire through the decks of the Grandcypher, spreading out of context and control. He finally became privy to a good chunk of the downright goofy rumors via his afternoon footwork training on the vast open deck.

His footwork training was simple. He would empty his mind and fill it with visions of attackers, then repel those attackers as they came at him from all sides and angles. Though it didn’t hold up to real battles, it offered a sort of vision training and group combat scenario that duels never quite could and best of all, it could be performed anywhere with ample space as the only thing required was himself.

Being simple in those relative terms, it provides opportunities for a capable multitasker to easvesdrop things they shouldn’t, like the hottest Grandcypher gossip. On one such afternoon, in the early days of summer, things came to a head as crewmates found themselves unable to contain the rumor mill around their captain any longer.

“I heard the captain’s immortal!”

Not entirely inaccurate. His nonexistent blade swung a tight arc, lopping off the head of something never there. With his arm extended, he challenged the thin atmosphere between the islands. Nothing came.

“Yeah, I heard he was like a six thousand year old primal beast?”

Missed the mark a bit there, he quipped internally. It seemed both directed at the conversation and himself as he danced between the attacks of no ones and nothings. His sweeping kick, though near-flawless in form, barely grazed the torso of his last imagined attacker in that scenario. With a click of his tongue, he noted to himself that an actual attacker couldn’t simply stop on a dime like the one he imagined did. Even in his mind, he was tough on himself, as no one else seemed to want the responsibility. With a little consternation, he ended up giving himself the point for his made up little game. The points didn’t matter, but they made him feel better.

“We have a few of those in the crew, so it makes sense.”

It would, but that’s not the case. Gran’s feet shuffled to and fro, dancing softly across the wooden deck of the Grancypher. To the casual observer, it almost appeared as if he was simply rehearsing one of the dances Anthuria had choreographed with him. He ducked under an imaginary bullet, fist rising from below to smash the jaw of the illusory gunman.

The nothings and nobodies fell to his invisible sword strikes, his matchless kicks and punches, to the spells he snap-conjured between the thrust of a lance and the flight of an arrow. Finally, panting hard with exhilaration and the flow of combat, Gran slew the final “attacker” with a quick reversal and stab to the gut, ending the dream with its own weapon. Nothing and no one fell, other than comfortable silence, but he still felt a measure of success as he picked up the warmed vacuum flask that had his lunch in it.

“No, no, he’s only thirty-six and he’s the son of that one legendary adventurer. It’s his hero’s blood. I hear his dad bathed in the entrails of the primal beast he slew, though, so maybe that’s what caused it in the end?” Why would a hero be forced to stop aging before he could legally drink? The snort of his barely contained laughter sent soup up his nose, straight from his vacuum flask. Hot soup. Hot, spicy soup.

“That makes a lot of sense.”

More than the six thousand year old primal beast bit, yes.

“He’s still our captain, so who cares? That’s good enough for me.” Oh. Ah. I...

That last overheard comment had humbled him, but the clear ring of all the affirmations that followed from crewmates in it’s wake shook him to his core. Somehow, he’d gained the loyalty and friendship of some of the most accepting people under the great blue sky. His training, already considered to be a form of self-punishment by the rest of the crew, grew in scope and desire. If there was a mountain in his way, he would cut it. If there was a river in his way, he would part it. If even the great ocean of stars spanned the distance, it would be crossed.

For all the things he could still protect.

For the dreams he had thought beyond him.

For the sake of surpassing the absent father that had abandoned him long ago, leaving only a note.

When still a boy in a backwater nothing, Gran wielded a simple short sword and fancied himself a sort of knight as he grew up. Wearing a slightly ragged blue tunic with a hood, a few pieces of spare platemail strapped to his right arm, and holding a sword containing more rust than blade. Training with Vyrn in the forest every day, the boy dreamed of something bigger. A fighter, a protector, a guardian of what he loved and treasured, not a bandit that cut and run from his family. That’s what he wanted to be... That dream was, for lack of a better term, driven from his chest. By a hydra. Just so we’re clear.

He abandoned defensive posture after that, seeking to end fights as quickly as possible. An axe found it’s way into his hands and for a time, he was satisfied by the devastation it wrought. Teenage postmortem angst seemed to be quelled by a felling cleave to an enemy’s collarbone, and chunky plate scraps held together with red leather and white fur served him well enough as protection from the elements and the enemies he faced.

Nothing so simple satisfied for long, though. Gran took to himself in a sort of hermitage for a while, studying magic under the occasional tutelage of his talented crewmates. There was a certain ripple of insecurity in his scouting party’s mood when he’d shown up late one day, his usual armor stripped down to basic protection and his axe nowhere to be found. They tossed light jeers at his green cloak and the staff he carried, even as they set off for their destination - a bandit camp they had been hired to uproot. Peace talks were attempted by the bandit’s leader and an Erune comrade of Gran’s, one better suited for diplomacy than the boy-faced captain.

Things deteriorated quickly. Gran had quietly stepped forward once the leader made it clear he had no intention of retreating peacefully. With the green hood still covering half his disappointed face, Gran slashed the tip of the staff in a dismissive motion to the right, as if telling them their time here was over. Before they could protest or retaliate, wild magic burst into life around them, sealing off all escape and action. Concentric rings of frost and fire cradled in the stony embrace of the earth, carved into being with the fierce wind tore at everything inside the bandit’s camp. With the oxygen burnt out, the earth lashed and the encampment in shambles, the dazed and injured bandits were easy prisoners.

No one jeered after that.

As his prowess grew and the crew took on more work, that cloak had weathered with time. It faded to an almost dull grey, and with this Gran had added a black half-mask to the ensemble. Admittedly, it was mostly to hide his youthful features and force enemies to take him somewhat seriously for once, as the sting of his blessed curse grew more apparent as he approached his twentieth year.

For combat, a middle ground was found. He embraced not pure swordsmanship, nor did he place his trust only in magic. Instead, he channeled his power into debilitating his opponent’s often unworldly vigor and vitality, then coaxed those weaknesses open with his unmatched swordplay. Victory after victory piled up at the crew’s feet, and the legend of the “boy captain” grew.

It also provided the fodder for what Gran considered a highly embarrassing piece of “art.” Somebody had caught him resting his right hand on his jaw, leg crossed over the other almost lazily as he read a scrap of paper in his left. It was a failed betting ticket, so close to winning millions of rupees, save for the upset victory in the sixth match. An enterprising somebody, who’s name begins with L and ends with -unalu, had committed this terrible and dreadful sight to memory. She then committed that memory to paper with her talent.

Only, well.

She’d used her license of artistic interpretation to replace the slip of paper held in contempt with a comically oversized sword. Stabbed unceremoniously in the ground. The barstool? That was now a throne carved of stone. The title of the piece, an unknowing and fortunate soul might ask?

“Chaos Ruler.”

The print she made was reproduced and sold to more than a handful of people on and off the Grandcypher. Copies of it hung from stray support beams and walls on the ship, as if to lovingly taunt him and people switched their mode of address from “captain” to things like “my liege” or “ruler” or “chaos kid” for the better part of a month. Gran said nothing, choosing to keep what little of his dignity he felt he had left.

Nobody saw Gran wear that outfit again.

In hindsight, he had to agree that the metal half-mask was a little much. But, ah, Ejaeli and Predator had convinced him it was cool. They made masks look cool, after all. The palpable disappointment from them almost made him walk back on that decision. Almost.

From then on, he’d taken to wearing a simple outfit when on duty, reminiscent of his teenage years. Having turned twenty some time ago, he decided to make a simple blue hooded tunic the mainstay of his combat attire. On top went a basic but functional steel breastplate, covering his heart and ribs. His arms were covered in gauntlets of the same make, and steel greaves offered his feet and shins ample protection as they went on over a pair of loose beige pants. What it lacked in flair it made up for in comfort and capability. A sensible choice. It gave nothing about his combat style away either, other than the obvious caveat that he might engage in it at some point.

---

Funny to say teenage years, he supposed, looking down at the peaceful field. Fires were beginning to rise and march in the distance, headed this way. An army. For now, though, he had time, and the world seemed to move so perilously slow. Memory reeled him in once more, as if the grass and the trees of this island made him long for another time and another place.

---

Thinking seriously on it, the reason his legend had spread as that of the “boy captain” probably had to do with two things. One, the Grandcypher traveled an awful lot between three different skydoms, and two? The crew of the Grandcypher loved events.

It probably had to do with a third thing, too.

His crew really, really loved to tease him about his age.

Every birthday, it’d be “Happy sixteenth, Cap!” They reused the same banner six times now, adding a tally mark just above “sixteenth” every single time. It was as endearing as it was maddening. Eugen and Rackam pulled the same thing at every new bar, ordering three beers and then pretending to flip out at Gran when he took his. It caused its fair share of problems for Gran, so sometimes Gran would flip the script before they got the chance and get angry at his “dad” and “brother” for getting drunk while “mom” was at home alone.

Some of the Grandcypher ladies would tease him with lines about “when he was older” and what an “earnest young man he was” if they saw him during the more romantic holidays, much to his chagrin. He learned to reverse that too, going on the offensive by playing the straight man to their act. He paid them straightforward compliments with toothy grins and presented them with chocolates during White Day as a form of playful revenge.

A few times every year, the crew would be called to an ancient island where a sort of...war game took place between skyfaring crews. An Astral experiment run amok meant that otherworldly and ferocious beasts overwhelmed the singular island now and then, and their presence courted the attention of primal beasts. As the people of the skydoms always sought to turn misery into growth, they established a way to turn it into a competition. Extremely rare treasure was brought in from all across the skyrealms and the monster problem on the island was handily taken care of in what they called Guild Wars.

Ten times, the Grancypher emerged victorious. Each time, for his troubles, the Captain would receive an ancient weapon of unparalleled power, power that courted disaster - and inevitably the attention of those that would protect the sky from unparalleled threats.

The Eternals.

Ten times over the years, Gran wore his convictions on his sleeve and fought the strongest people in the sky, all to prove that he would remain himself in the face of that dread power. In truth, Gran didn’t plan to use those relics of war. He simply reveled in the chance to face those brilliant, blazing souls in single combat.

It was a way to prove himself. Both to those who he had grown to admire after hearing their legends, and to his eternally absent father. Surely, even his father would have to notice if he conquered the ten strongest people in the sky--

He didn’t, but it didn’t matter.

In the end, the people he met and bonded with mattered.

After an incident involving the mafia bearing down on Stardust Town, the Eternals got together and presented Gran with a suit of armor and his own cloak, signifying his status as the eleventh Eternal, an irreplaceable part of their group. While Siete was still the de-facto leader and Uno was the first of the Eternals, Gran - given the new title of Jedenáct - was the end-all-be-all when it came to pure combat strength. As they had joined the Grancypher’s crew, they wanted him to join the crew of the Eternals and share in that camaraderie.

He might have felt sixteen behind those misty eyes when they draped the white jacket over his shoulders and popped the celebratory drinks open, but he’d never admit it. Openly. Nio knew, because of course she did. His heart’s plaintive melody was clear to her ear from the moment they’d met. He’d been seeking a place to belong, a place that respected him since the day he understood that his father had abandoned him. Between the Grancypher and the Eternals, he’d finally felt like part of a family.

A family more real than the blood that spawned and abandoned him, all the while burdening him with purpose.

This is where I belong.

---

Of course, it was just after this heartfelt moment that Altair had been roped into this awful and brutal war. As a member of the Grancypher family, Altair’s problems were Gran’s problems. And now, that advancing army was coming into ambush distance. Concentrating his mana for a second, Gran summoned forth an ethereal bow, shaped like the one Song used but made of pure, blue light. Standing up on the branch of the tree, he took aim at the ground some twenty metres in front of the enemy general’s advance. Luhua was said to be a fearsome combatant, and Gran secretly hoped for a chance to resolve things with a non-fatal, honorable, one-on-one duel. The best kind of fight.

Of course, he would always be underestimated. There was a chance that no such duel would be found, and it might turn into a bloody melee.

Either way?

Time to keep the sky’s sweet peace.

#granblue fantasy #gbf #gran #fanfiction #writing #my writing #self-indulgent bullshit

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ramdassloveserveremember · 4 years

Audio

Ram Dass Speaks About Maharaji for the first time

When Ram Dass returned to the United States from India in August 1972 after being with his guru, Neem Karoli Baba (Maharaji), he appeared on a radio show and spoke about the experience for the first time.

“It’s a topic that is as big as any I can conceive of because I just turn into liquid when I even think about it let alone try to describe it. I’m looking at this moment at a picture of his feet, that’s how far out it is. I could describe his feet to you. But I think it is useful just to try to convey a little bit about my feelings about my guru.”

The delicate thing is that I’m not interested in creating desires in other people or making other people feel frustrated because they don’t have a guru in the same relationships that I do. Because what you and I may see in Maharaji is just what you and I see, and that’s because of what we need to see for our own work. And other people find their direction through ways very much other than the guru and so I’ve been very reticent to speak about this because of that. Otherwise, I think I would probably not want to talk about much else because where it is in my head. And he has never encouraged me to send people to him or to talk about him publicly, so you are the first person that’s even mentioned his name on the air.

I always called him “Maharaji” which covers many, many holy men in India which I think is the best way to deal with that, because those that he needs to have find him will find him, I guess. To talk about him a little bit… I get speechless.

On the physical plane, he is a jungle sadhu who has in recent years started to spend more time in temples around Northern India that devotees have built in order to try to capture him or hold on to a little bit of that light. And he appears in one and stays for a little while, and then just when they get all their rituals in order to hang on to him forever, he’s gone in the middle of the night, he just disappears again. I mean, not in any astral sense, he just gets somebody with a car to take him off somewhere. Nobody knows where he’s gone, and he turns up somewhere else. And he floats around in that way so that nobody can really control that kind of light in him.

When you’re with him, when I am with him, I experience many, many levels. At the personality social level he’s often infuriating and frustrating, and Mickey Mouse, and repetitive and childlike, and stubborn, and willful, and playful, and funny, and an old man, and a little child, and very concerned, and very indifferent, and that’s at one level.

At another level when I’m in his presence I experience ecstasy and bliss from the depth of the love that our relationship has for me. And that’s a drunken kind of love where I often find myself just dissolved into tears because I’ve just never experienced such profound love from any being.

And often just when I’m going into that he will interrupt it with some question like, “How much money does Stephen make?” or something like that, just to bring me back to the plane. He keeps me very firmly down in the physical plane until my work is done. He doesn’t allow me to just float around in bliss very much when I’m around him.

Then on a deeper level, this time when I was with him he said to me when I first met him, he asked me why I’d come back, and I’d told him to purify myself more, and he said, “I am always in communion with you.” And I have more and more deeply understood that to be the case and in fact, that’s now who he is for me.

He is a being who is with me always, and sometimes he’s with me so closely that I am him.

That is what I’m saying things to people, or I’m acting towards people in certain ways where I look at the reaction they’re having to me, and I see they’re not reacting to me, but they’re reacting to him. That is that he’s just coming through me completely. And at that point, I don’t feel his presence because in some sense I am his presence. And then the rest of the time I just feel like I am constantly hanging out with him at this very, very subtle plane.

And at this plane I just feel him as this gentle, firm, guide who’s slowly drawing me towards himself, just pulling me ever so gently. And there’s no rest, it’s a continuous process. And I take almost everything that happens to me as part of his teachings to me. I take everything if I can remember. Like if I get uptight about wanting to do good about something, I see him saying to me, “Well you’re still caught, aren’t you? You really still care, don’t you?” And I can just constantly talk with him all the time at that level.

He has devotees at many, many different levels of attachment to him. Some are attached to his body and to him, sort of as a grandfatherly figure to their families, in many Indian families. He has many, many Indian devotees or villagers, very simple people. And there are no big gatherings, ever, except a few small ones at the temples, but no great big public thing. And his sort of simplicity and humility is awesome.

He has just a blanket and a dhoti, and he sits on a wooden table. And when you go into the room he’s staying in you’re struck by the absence of everything that you would associate with somebody’s bedroom. There is no reading lamp, and there are no books hanging around, and there’s no evidence that there’s a human being living there. It’s just… he walks in, he sits down on this wooden table that’s sometimes covered with some quilt, and there he is, and that’s his universe, and he’s fulfilled. You can see, and there are many pictures of him just sitting by the side of a road, and that was enough for him.

Others are very attached to him because of the miracles that are associated with him. There are many stories that the Indians have of various things that he’s done that are showing the use of incredible siddhis, or powers, for all kinds of things. So many Indian people come to him asking for favors, asking him to use these siddhis.

And there is a very awesome quality about those interactions because they’re asking as if he were somebody who uses the siddhis or doesn’t. And the whole dance is almost as if he’s somebody who bestows grace or doesn’t. And at the same moment, when I’m sitting with him I see that there really is nobody there at all. There is merely a form. And that the only time that they are going to get what they ask for is if it is their karmic predicament that that should happen. And if it is further their karmic predicament that they should perceive it as happening through him. That it’s not like he’s sitting around deciding, “Shall I do it or shouldn’t I do it?” And even when he’s saying the words like he’s deciding whether he should or shouldn’t, that’s all part of their karmic runoff; that you begin to see that all he is is a manifestation of the desires of the people around him.

And that a being like that only is in form because of desire of other people, because there isn’t any desire in him. And every time you project desire in him, that’s why a being like him is such a pure mirror, because he keeps showing you where you’re not.

Because if you get ten people sitting around talking about him everyone will describe him a different way. And they’re all describing, of course, it’s like the blind man with the elephant. Each person is describing what he’s touched of him, and he’s touched what he was capable of touching. You know the story of the blind men and the elephant, I assume. Where one touches the tail, and another touches the leg, and another touches the side, and another touches the trunk. Later they’re talking at lunch, and one blind man says an elephant is very like a tree, and another says no he’s like a snake, and another says he’s like a wall. And they get into a tremendous fight because each of them has touched a different part of the elephant.

Then there are other devotees who merely see him as God incarnate. And they are just very humble before him, and they ask for nothing. And they just serve him in any way they possibly can. They just feel so blessed to have a being like that in form, to be even near. There is one particular being who is one of his closest devotees, I guess. It’s interesting, see he doesn’t have any big ashrams or there’s no ‘scene’. And most the time he just throws you out if you go near there. He lets you stay five minutes and sends you away. So you can’t collect him, you can’t hold on to him. You can’t just hang out the way you’d like to. Unless that’s what your work needs to be at that moment.

But there is one devotee, he’s a professor, he’s a PhD. He’s a professor of economics. He’s the head of an economics department at a major university in India. And he is one of the older devotees of Maharaji. And his devotion is a model for me of this form of yoga that I’m pursuing, which is really called guru kripa, or the method of the Guru. And he pursues the total surrender to Maharaji.

And here is a man who in his own right, he’s the editor of the leading economic journal in India, very reputable high intellectual being, and everything in his life is done only in relation to Maharaji. He only keeps his job or works because Maharaji tells him to do that. And when he’s with Maharaji his service is so total and pure. It’s just as if, if you look at your hand and you go to make a fist, and you notice how your fingers come together. Each finger doesn’t think for itself, “Should I come together?” You send a message and the fingers come together. And he is exactly like a finger on Maharaji’s hand. He’s just a perfect instrument. There’s not any place in him that has that little will that says, “Should I do it or shouldn’t I?” Or, “But you said…” or anything like that. He’s just a perfect, perfect extension. He’s like Hanuman is to Ram.

Then there’s the other aspect of Maharaji, of course, in which he is very intimately related with Ram and Hanuman. Just how intimately related is a source of some mystery to those of us that are around him. There are many beings who have reported being with him when he has turned into Hanuman. And there is one man that every time he comes near Maharaji he takes one look and he passes out cold. And when they revive him all he says is, “All I saw was a huge monkey!” And my feeling is that on an astral plane, or in another plane, Maharaji is, he is Hanuman, he is Hanuman manifest at this time. That’s who I think he is.

But even that is only a game, you understand. Because a being who is nobody is everybody. And he’s merely taking that form because that’s the particular form that’s connected with that particular sect.

I think it would be even too limiting to call him anything at all. Because in a way a being such as that is every way you think of him, he is. And there’s nothing you can say he isn’t, in a funny kind of a way.

He’s known to show up in many places simultaneously, to appear and disappear, to all these kinds of things. And he always denies it all, by the way. I mean he leaves you always with the doubt. He leaves you always in a very funny space, that if you were going to test him you’d always come away saying, “Oh well he’s just an old man in a blanket”. And it’s only those that are saying, “Look, the hell with testing, I’m going going going”. Those are the ones that start to experience his grace.

And that’s the predicament with the West. People say to me, “Look, if he’s so high why doesn’t he come here to the West and demonstrate his powers for us so science can get ahead?” And that’s like asking the elephant to reorganize his life in order to serve the mosquito in some kind of a way. I mean, Western science is just a trivia in the presence of a being like this. It’s all nice and well-meaning and good, but the rational mind is just another little dance.

And it’s only when you’re thinking of moon, and tides, and the Sun, and universes, and the passing of yugas and kalpas of time, and timelessness, and eternal beings and so on that you’re dealing in the realm of Maharaji.

And the quieter your mind is, the more you’re sitting in your own ajana where you can meet him. Any time you want to meet him all you have to do is bring your mind totally to one point right at your ajana, at the place between your eyebrows. And all you have to do is ask for him. Your thought brings him, anybody, any human beings thought brings that pure guru to him the moment that thought is pure enough, intent enough, single-minded enough.

A guru only exists to serve his devotees, that’s the only reason for his existence. And seeing him in the physical form is only another part of the dance and another part of the illusion.

The devotee, the economist I was telling you about said to me once, “I am closer to Maharaji when I’m away from him than when I’m with him, because when I’m with him my senses get in the way, I get lost into enjoying because he’s such fun to hang out with.” And it’s interesting, that it’s true for me that I’m meeting him in a much deeper place when I’m not around the melodrama of the temple life with him. At the same moment, of course, it’s fun to hang out with him. But less and less is that a pulling matter.

Like for me it doesn’t really matter whether I go back to India or not. It would be fun, but I don’t think I’m going away from him. When he just threw me out of India this last time I was sobbing and a woman came up and said, “Don’t cry, you can come back,” and I said, “I’m not crying out of sadness, I’m crying out of bliss.” I said, “I’m just so happy that he’s even telling me to do anything because I just want to be an instrument of him.” That’s all I can ever ask him, is make me a pure instrument of your will.

And that’s the far-out thing because no longer do I even have a desire to be enlightened. I’m not interested in becoming, being all done.

That is not a realistic thing for me. It may happen or it may not, I don’t know. But I feel a thing because he has kept saying to me, “I’ll do that for you, I’ll do it for you.” And what’s been happening to me is that more and more I am less and less in evidence to myself. More and more I’m just, whatever it is I am doing at the moment. I mean it’s just happening. I’m just action, I’m not self-conscious action. And I can feel that I am, in a sense, becoming like a finger on his hand, or like Hanuman is referred to Ram in relation to the breath of Ram, it’s the breath of Ram.

And I’m perfectly content to be the breath of Maharaji. That is, I think, enough of that.

– Ram Dass, 1969

#ramdass #ram dass #guru #neemkarolibaba #neem karoli baba #maharaj #maharaji #maharaj-ji #love #love everyone

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 4 years

Text

Love Killer (Chapter 1) Light Show (Judal | Judar)

A'isha Kilani stood in the soft, green grass rotating a staff lined with black iron between her fingers, otherwise a meager excuse to occupy her free time while she remained put and cure her frustration. Her blood boiled and she positioned the staff above her head, ordering the white rukh to alter into the energy needed for her magic. The sphere-shaped, red crystal at its apex began to glow and with a silent command, Asha brought the staff into a vertical slash and shot her magic through the air like a bright beacon into the straw figure erect in the ground ahead of her. In modest appreciation she sighed and watched the dummy burn to ashes, settling herself into the grass to rest.

Asha stared at her staff and cursed, choosing to point blame at the wooden vessel rather than admit her fault. She calmed her uneven breathing and directed the rukh to alter again. Her staff came to life and glowed brighter than before, but her body numbed and she cut the flow of magic in defeat.

Two bursts is about my limit. Anything more will put strain onto my body. Heat burned at her face. She snorted in mock laughter at herself. Surely even the twins; her sisters, Hala and Nasira had more to display with their magic than their elder sister did. But Asha, more accustomed to war than manipulating magoi just could not tolerate the praises their father gave to them and pleaded with him to find her a tutor. He did just that, but as fate would have it she didn’t catch on quite as fast. Slow and steady Asha.

A sudden realization dawned on her. Even her brother, battle hardened Kamal knew more on magic than she did. Asha felt her heart sink. She threw back her head and screamed, choking down a squeal of surprise at the sudden flash of dark, pink hair in her face.

“What are you doing here?” Kougyoku’s voice laughed at her.

Asha felt her face grow warm and glanced away from her princess.

Kougyoku’s hands cupped her round, baby face as she laughed again. “Are you hiding from Judal-chan?”

Asha tossed her a glare and puffed out her red cheeks. “Maybe I am. So what?” She allowed the princess a second to chuckle, chewing the inside of her jaw. “To answer your previous question, I am here with Kamal on business. Racketeering and such. The usual.”

Kougyoku hummed to herself and sat at her side. “Is that all?”

“That depends. Did you know the caravan Kamal and I arrived by is loaded with illegal weapons and armor boosted by magoi?” Asha chewed at her jaw again and sighed. “Or that my family are felons, stealing, modifying, and reselling our merchandise to the Empire?”

Kougyoku narrowed her eyes and clicked her tongue. “Sounds beyond me.”

“You’re not much help, you know?” She nudged her shoulder and let out a laugh. Brown eyes hardened. “What is this interest with picking on me over Judal?”

She smiled and slid the ornate, golden pin from her hair. “How about a competition?”

Asha’s eyes widened. “A competition? Now of all times?”

“There is no time better than now.” Kougyoku’s voice melted into deceit as she stood and skipped ahead, flaunting the pin at her. “Beat me and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Asha snorted at her, shrugging her shoulders. “What makes you think I want to know?”

She remained still, lips pulled into a smirk and prompted her metal vessel to take shape into its sword form. “Curiosity is nature, wouldn’t you say?”

Asha hoisted herself up and rotated her staff between her fingers. “Very well. I am in no position to refuse the princess of the Kou Empire after all.”

Kougyoku clasped her sword and trained the blade on her. “Excuses are futile.”

“Spoken like a true warrior.” She mocked the eagerness in her keen expression while keeping the staff out in front of her.

Asha and Kougyoku clashed. The sword struck first and Asha blocked while sparks flew, the iron decorated around the staff surprising held well against her metal vessel. Again and again she blocked the sword’s well-aimed strikes setting into a kneeling pose as Kougyoku aimed high to take her head. Asha took a chance and slashed downwards only to be blocked and slammed in the side by the sword’s aqua-colored hilt.

Kougyoku smirked and seated her position. “One to nothing.”

Asha hissed a curse and blocked a low strike with her staff. Yet again she stopped the sword from reaching her until Kougyoku blocked an overhead slash in a crouch and Asha spun right, hitting her side. “One to one. We are even.”

“Not for much longer.” Kougyoku’s words sneered at her. She stood and hacked at her much harder than before, making it so that Asha planted her feet firmly to keep her balance but accustomed to such force from endless hours of training Asha parried and took another point at Kougyoku’s right arm.

Asha attacked first this time around and recklessly evened the score. “Two to two.” Her side burned in pain as she rubbed the discomfort from it. “Shall we make this more interesting?”

Asha’s eyes narrowed at her. “More interesting? What are you proposing?”

Kougyoku slammed the blade of her sword into the ground and rested against it. “A magoi shoot-out. One technique against the other, considering neither of us appears to be really letting go.”

“Or having fun, you mean?” Asha rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

She had started to feel a little bored herself, and a shoot-out could be fun. But it could also put injury on her body using her very life force to sustain her magic. Not only that, but Asha had used her light magic previously and another burst of the magnitude needed to overpower the Djinn equip of the Kou Empire’s princess could kill her. Asha rotated her staff and sighed, eyes greeting the princess with defeat.

Kougyoku shook with delight and drew her sword pulling it above her head. “Brace yourself. Water God’s spheres.” Her water magic burst out the air and created a spear around the metal vessel in her hands aimed to fire at her.

Asha mocked her stance and commanded the rukh to alter drawing a loop into the air. “Astral Halo.” The crystal pulsed and the loop began to expand in size as she forced her magoi, but the flow of magic came to a stop and the crown of light fizzled out with a pop. Asha panted from exhaustion, but to be mindful she had to offer thanks to Judal for stopping her, even if were by force of his fist in her stomach.

“What is it you think you’re doing?” His voice taunted her.

Asha coughed and dropped her staff to the ground, using his shoulder to keep herself from falling over. Her knees buckled beneath her and blood leaked from her mouth obviously a side effect of expending her magoi.

Kougyoku dispelled her water magic and scowled flicking her sword at him. “What is the deal Judal? We were about to have a shoot-out. You interrupted and that’s not fair.”

Judal met her eyes. “I was just helping Asha out. Her magoi can’t hold up against your own after all. The fight would be unfair, so don’t get mad at me for being honest.” His arm locked her against himself. “Just look at how weak she is.”

Kougyoku peered at her and frowned. “I wasn’t aware you were hurt.”

Asha smiled despite the pain and Judal’s constant badgering. “I am fine Kougyoku, just a little exhausted.”

“See, I helped.” Judal’s warm breath tickled her cheek. He pulled her hair and tilted her head to meet his bored expression. “You should say thank you. I earned it.”

Asha glared feeling her face heat up. “I fail to see how, other than causing me more pain.”

“How rude.” His voice crooned. “I am the oracle of this empire, so you’d do best to remember that. Say thank you.”

Asha hissed at him having enough of his childish antics. She felt like a pet dribbling at his feet and sucking up to him all the time just because the rukh favored him. Even in her own country the people worshiped the very ground he stood on but she would have none of that. She huffed back her bangs and gave him a hateful glare. “No I will not say thank you. I appreciate the help but I will not praise you, magi.”

His eyes narrowed and upon seeing that she would not obey, he shoved her aside and watched as she fell to the ground in a tussled heap.

Kougyoku watched in disbelief. She felt pity for her for the reason that surely, Asha couldn’t see the trouble she had caused. It had been as if she hoped for Judal to correct her, and he just might, curling his lips into a snarl. The very air around him felt cold and gloomy.

“What was that for?” Asha cursed at him. She spoke even before she thought it over just happy to have caused him to make such an expression other than that which he gave her. “I wish you would grow up spoiled brat. I will not suck up to you. I don’t believe you deserve it.”

Kougyoku went pale. “Please stop Asha.”

Judal silenced her with a look and crouched to his knee, clutching her face roughly in his fingers. “I’ll make you regret those words.”

Asha’s smile faded. She felt ill, looked into his bloody, red-ringed eyes, and swallowed her fear.

“Do you think that I am scared? You’re childish and you’ve got threats. You may frighten the Empire with your power, but I will not be shaken so easily.”

Judal tapped her nose and laughed, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

#magi the labyrinth of magic #judal magi #judar magi #ren kougyoku #bad romance

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tarotdeckshuffle · 5 years

Text

Half Astral Series: Cor

I’m skipping around a bit and doing Cor’s section because I’m writing two chapters of Spectral today and that’s just A LOT of Ignis to write XD Hope you enjoy! ❤

Taglist: @idiotflowerex, @laststory1013, @sayaoqueen, @jophinabean, @mysme-already

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or buying me a Ko-fi!

Cor

The hour was early when you and Cor began a new hunt.

Rumor had spread of a coeurl that had become corrupted,

The poor beast lashed out at refugees with dark lightning.

You and your love set out into the darkness to protect the few safe routes left to Lestallum,

And to put the animal out of its misery.

Unfortunately, the creatures of darkness were nearly impossible to track in the everlasting night.

And the cold desert dirt was unable to preserve tracks,

As eastward winds pulled the chariot of storms.

You began to fear the beast only existed in stories,

Until a lonely, anguished growl pierced the winds.

It was the sound of an animal fighting not to become a monster.

You and Cor agreed that you had to find it now,

For all evidence of its whereabouts would be washed away in the storms.

But words are easier to find than prey.

A cold and heavy rain set in, soaking you to the bone,

Before you even found the coeurl.

Thunder shook the earth,

As lightning struck from the veil of darkness.

Finally, you found it.

The poor creature had been fighting the corruption for so long.

One eye glowed red, surrounded by black sludge,

While the other gazed wide and fearful at the world around it.

The battle to fell the beast was not going to be easy,

As it was impossible to tell it you were committing an act of mercy.

It took all of your strength to dodge its claws,

As you slid through the mud.

All the while attempting to avoid real and dark lightning.

Even Cor began to slow down with fatigue.

For a single moment, the rain eased.

Beside you, Cor nodded.

This was your chance!

He dashed at the creature from the front,

Distracting it,

While you attached from behind.

The coeurl lashed out, barely catching its claws in Cor’s chest,

Before your blade found its mark.

The blow was exact,

Resulting in a fairly painless and fast death.

The creature stood frozen,

Before crumpling to the ground,

Finally free from its pain.

You walked away from it,

Only to find Cor doubled over and holding his chest.

You ran to your love,

Fearing the worst.

He waved you on,

Telling you that he would be fine,

Regardless of the pain.

But you knew he needed help,

And fast!

But you were miles from anywhere.

Unable to do anything else, you got him to his feet,

And set out.

It felt like hours that you wandered,

Fearfully supporting your darling,

Through the onslaught of rain.

Just as you thought the storms would take you,

You found shelter.

A cave in the valley walls.

Inside was still cold,

But it was dry.

You laid Cor down

And found enough brush in the cave to start a fire.

But it wasn’t enough.

You held his head on your lap,

As his body quickly failed him.

He was running a high fever,

Unable to stop from shivering.

You dressed his wounds to the best of your ability,

But even the gauze was wet from the rain.

“Damn this old body,” he coughed,

Trying to smile up at you.

“If it keeps you with me, I don’t care how old it is,” you replied, smiling back at him.

He nestled into you, still smiling.

You watched the marshall's face soften into sleep.

For hours, you sat with him,

Stroking his hair,

Attempting to chase away his nightmares.

But to no avail.

His fever seemed to keep increasing,

And the wounds on his chest refused to clot.

Silently, tears streamed from your eyes

From the fear gripping your heart:

What if he never woke up?

What if this was it?

Within the trows of nightmares, again,

You tried to wake him.

With shaking hands, you stroked his cheek.

“Darling, wake up…” you whispered.

But sleep did not release him.

“Darling!”

Your panicked cry rang throughout the cave.

And he stilled.

You felt his beating heart begin to slow,

But, still, he did not wake.

“Please...wake up...look at me…”

You plead,

But only the darkness heard you.

Quite still now, he continued to sleep.

Tears flowed like rivers down your cheeks,

As you cried out.

“FINE!! I GIVE! I NEED YOUR HELP! YOU HEAR THAT?! I NEED YOUR HELP!!”

As the echoes of your pleas faded,

Only silence responded.

“YOU COWARDLY OLD MAN! I SAID I NEED YOUR HELP! WHAT?! ARE YOU NOT GOING TO GLOAT NOW THAT I ACTUALLY NEED YOU?”

Lightning cracked outside.

Through the darkness, a tall figure swept towards you.

“I am not a pet you can summon on command, child.”

It was the god of storms, Ramuh, who approached you.

“Well you certainly aren’t a father, either.”

You lashed out in pain.

Your dearest love, the only thing in all of Eos that truly mattered to you,

Lay dying in your arms.

And your cowardly father had the nerve to swagger into your sanctuary.

Ramuh narrowed his eyes, staring you down.

“Then what have you called out to me for?”

You gathered all the courage you could muster to face him down,

“Save him.”

Those two words are all you thought you heart could calmly manage.

“And why, perchance, should I save this mortal?” The god hissed.

You were taken aback.

He had all the power in the world,

Power enough to save this man ten times over,

And he was questioning you?!

The years of constant criticism you faced from your father came back to your mind.

Centuries of resentment boiled up within you.

You had been raised in his shadow,

A mortal he tried to shape into a god.

You were his only child,

And his greatest disappointment.

You had spent the last hundred years hiding from his view,

Which wasn’t a great task,

Considering he literally hid in a rock.

He had given you the power of everlasting life,

Within a body that would never fail you.

Not by choice,

But due to his own desire to have a legacy.

“Does it matter why you should save him? I am asking this one and only thing of you, after all you have demanded of me! Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that the LEAST a parent could do?!”

That was the first you had ever questioned him.

And for a moment, it calmed the storms.

He stood in silence, staring at his feet.

Gods had all the time in the world,

And you feared he did not understand the urgency of this matter.

Finally, he spoke:

“Contrary to what you imagine, I do care about you. To that end, you must realize that everyday you draw closer to the inevitable sadness of this relationship. If I should fulfill your request, you are just delaying fate.”

Your eyes furrowed in rebellious anger.

“I don’t care,” you challenged.

He folded his hands and stared down at you.

“Yes, you do. And that’s exactly the problem.”

In that moment, he didn’t matter anymore.

Your mind found the words to bring your emotions into the world,

And you let it unleash the fury of ages past:

“You’re right. Ok? I care! I care immensely! I care about him, body and mind, because I love him! And unlike you so-called gods, I’m not going to abandon something I care about! To leave due to my own sadness would be completely selfish! What about him?”

You paused to look down at his peaceful face.

The man you loved,

The man you would die for,

And more importantly,

Live for.

Yes, you would outlive him,

You would live until his name was religated to letters in history books.

Never aging,

Never getting sick,

just...living.

But you would also get to live with him.

You would have the chance to fight by his side,

To see all the beauty of Eos in his arms,

And to know his touch.

All of that was worth living for.

“He loves me. He needs me! And I love him! I need him. You may not understand the value of this moment, or of any moment, but I do! And it is far more valuable than the sadness to come! He has shown me life, far more than you ever could! So, no matter how hard you try to scare me away from it, I’m staying with him.”

You looked up,

The weight of your truth evident on your face.

Ramuh merely shook his head,

Before he raised his hands.

The whole cave buzzed with electricity,

As it popped off of the walls.

A soft, yellow glow surrounded Cor,

Brining warmth to his body.

Slowly, the electricity faded from the room.

Ramuh lowered his hands and sighed:

“I have done what you asked, but know this child: you will receive nothing more from me. You have become too mortal to be of any use.”

With pursed hands he strode from the cave and disappeared into the winds.

Outside, the thunder eased,

But the rain continued to fall in sheets.

When you checked,

The marks on Cor’s chest had disappeared,

And his fever broke.

Leaving him to sleep peacefully.

You smiled,

Finally feeling at peace.

He would live to see another day.

But, in the crevices of your heart,

You felt a deep sadness.

Ramuh never went back on his word...

But what was done could not be undone,

That much he had taught you.

So you leaned back,

And let your body rest.

Hours later, Cor woke.

He looked up into your sleeping face,

Unsure of what was a dream and what was real.

You looked peaceful in your sleep,

A glow of otherworldly beauty to you.

How could he tell you what he had seen?

Would it even matter?

No…

To him, it didn’t matter who you were,

Who your parents were,

Or where you came from.

What mattered is that he loved you,

And that he could spend the rest of his life with you.

He raised one tired hand,

And brushed your cheek.

“I’m staying with you, too.”

#ffxv #astral #cor x reader #cor #cor leonis #ffxv cor #final fantasy #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15

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platonicone · 4 years

Text

Devotion - Story of the Oracle and her Shield

Since Luna is looking into Squall's past, her thoughts will be presented like [this in square brackets.]

Chapter 24 - Since the dawn of time

Would it be any different this time? I wonder…

Luna felt like the world around her was distorting and swirling uncontrollably. All the spinning came to a stop as everything around her became a blend shade of gray. She looked around and everything seemed gray and devoid of any light.

[Am I seeing things through his eyes?]

As far as his eyes could see, he saw nothing by emptiness. Dark voids swirling all around him. His legs can barely carry the weight of his own body, yet he walks. He walks till he reached the edge of the cliff and all he can see below was endless void. He was stranded on a floating rock with nothing but darkness around him. With nowhere to go and no one to call, he finally understood the gravity of his reality. This was it. He was lost is a time-compressed world with no way back home. He did not know how many days, months or years it had been since he got here. For him, there was no past, no present and certainly no future. As a soldier, he knew that he was always dancing with the grim reaper, but when facing the concept of his own demise, he realized that he was not ready for it.

His legs finally gave out, and he collapsed on the floor. The world around him was devoid of any light, just gray haze swirling around eternally. It was as if the atmosphere around him was a reflection of his own self; devoid of any hope and light. He might have saved the world, but in the end, he couldn’t save himself; such is the fate of a hero. With his head hung low and spirit even lower, he let out one last howl. All he heard in response was a wailing of his own voice, echoing back. His eyes were getting heavy and his breathing was shallow and erratic. He felt like his consciousness was slowly drifting away from him. He was giving up.

He always thought that his last breath would be on a battlefield, yet here he was fighting against only demons from within. There were many who loved and celebrated him, yet here he was all alone. His whole life he fought like a lion, yet here he was tamed and defeated by fate. As if watching an old movie, his life started flashing in front of his own eyes one by one. The people he loved, things he cherished, his hopes and dreams; it was all about to become history. A single tear rolled down his left cheek as his life was about to become a fragment of a lost memory. His head fell back, and he was ready to collapse on the ground, silently awaiting his fate as his consciousness was shutting down.

Suddenly, something caught his eyes. It was a vivid blue petal swinging back and forth in a swirling haze of gray slowing drifting towards him.

[Is that Sylleblossom petal?]

He extended his hand as the vivid blue petal slowly floated towards him and gently landed on his open palm. Upon inspecting it from close proximity, he realized that it was a petal from a flower the likes of which he had never seen. He closed his fist to make sure it does not fly away from him. He momentarily closed his eyes, trying to make sense of all this. Suddenly, he heard a dog barking. His eyes immediately shot open and saw a dark-colored spitz-type dog with glowing yellow eyes staring right at him.

[Umbra!]

The dog was wearing a green rope around his neck and front legs and was carrying a small diary. Squall tilted his head curiously looking at this canine. The dog barked twice and shot past Squall with amazing speed. It stopped right at the edge of the cliff. The dog turned its head around and barked at Squall as if coaxing him to come closer.

Still dazed, Squall was trying to figure out if any of this was actually happening or was this all just part of his imagination. Before he could think any further, the dog bark at him one more time and then jumped off the edge of the cliff. Squall stretched out a hand as if to stop it, but even before Squall could react, the dog had disappeared into the void below completely out of his sight.

He pulled himself to the edge of the cliff trying to contemplate what was going on. First, there was a petal and now a dog. As if on cue, the petal in his hand started glowing. He opened his fist, and the petal flew out of his hand and slowly drifted in the same direction the dog went. Eventually, that too disappeared in the haze below the cliff.

‘Should I follow it? Is this petal trying to show me the way?’

He looked around at his surroundings once more and everything was still very grim. As far as eyes can see, it was an endless swirl of gray haze with no sign of life around.

‘If I stay here, I am going to die anyway, so might as well take a leap of faith and see where it leads.’

He took a deep breath and jumped off the cliff in the same direction where that dog and a blue petal had gone. He was in a freefall and soon everything became a blur.

The next thing he remembers was lying on the soft ground and trying to open his eyes. He briefly opened his eyes and was suddenly blinded by the intensity of the light. He immediately closed his eyes shut. After a second or two, he slowly tried to open his eyes again, this time giving time for his eyes to adjust to the pouring light. He looked at the clear blue sky and a glowing sun radiating in it. He sat up and looked around and much to his awe he was surrounded by blue flowers, same as the petal he had found earlier.

[This is my Gardens at Fenestala Manor. What is going on here?]

He was curiously marveling at the beauty of the flowers around him when he heard a distant bark. He immediately got up on his feet and tried to follow the direction of that sound. He had barely taken a few steps when he noticed that same dark-colored dog. Once their eyes met, the dog barked at him and turned around and started walking. Squall followed the dog. After taking a few steps, Squall stopped in his track.

‘The last thing I remember was jumping off from that cliff. Now I am here in the middle of this serene blue flowerbed.’ He looked around and absorbed the surrounding beauty.

‘It is very quiet and peaceful. Is this heaven? Am I dead?’ He wondered scratching his head.

‘I have never died before, so I don’t really know what happens after death. Does everyone find flowerbed and a weird dog at their end? If this is heaven, then I am very disappointed,’ he thought with a scowl on his face.

[Luna couldn’t help but giggle hearing Leon’s thoughts.]

As if to break him from his trance, the dog barked once more, drawing his attention.

‘If I am conscious to ask all these questions, then I must be alive,’ he concluded with a shrug.

‘How am I alive, though, that is a mystery?’ he continued thinking while following the dog down its track.

After a while, the dog stopped and sat down next to someone. Squall’s eyes followed the stranger next to the dog.

She was of fair skin with black hair. She wore a black gown with white wraps on her sleeves that flow down into a tail-like clothing. She adorned black thigh-high open-toed stiletto-heeled boots and her nails were painted in a dark metallic hue. “You came,” she said, with her eyes closed.

“I have been waiting for you for a very long time, Squall. It is good to finally see you again,” she spoke with a faint smile, while her eyes still remained closed.

“Who are you and how do you know my name?” Squall wondered aloud.

“Forgive me, perhaps I should have properly reintroduced myself.” She finally opened her eyes. “I am known as Gentiana.”

“Gentiana?” he asked, with one eyebrow slightly raised, noticing her olive-green eyes.

Understanding Squall’s confusion, she clarified, “Perhaps you would rather recognize me with my Astral name, Shiva.”

“Shiva,” his eyes widened as he said the name. “But Shiva is a Guardian Force.”

“Being like us are known by various names across realms. Guardian force, Summon, Eidolon, Esper, Aeon, Avatar, Primal; they are all our names. In this land, we are known as Astral. We are in charge of protecting the realm we serve.” “Where am I here?” he asked, looking around.

“It seems that fate has brought you back to the world of Eos. Unfortunately, this planet is dying. It will soon become a place where no hope or dreams can survive. The providence states that only the Oracle and the True King can overturn such a fate.” She explained.

‘That is none of my business. Just tell me how do I get back home,’ Squall thought dryly.

“The Oracle has embarked on a perilous journey, the one she might not survive alone. If she falls, all hope for this world will be lost. You are to be her champion and protect her.” She took a short break before continuing, “If you can safeguard her in the trials of Six Astrals then I shall grant you the passage back to your world.”

“So, her safety in her trials for my return home? Sounds like a simple mission,” he said confidently.

Gentiana chuckled. “That is over-simplifying things."

‘Whatever.’

Gentiana closed her eyes and spoke with a tinge of concern in her voice. “You do not understand the gravity of your undertaking,” she states, slightly shaking her head. “To survive these trials, you would have to be her sword and shield. She may be a beacon of light to many, but you must guide her in her hour of darkness. When she falters, you must be her strength. For in her success lies your own and of this world.”

‘No pressure at all,’ retorted his mind.

“You must go now, the champion of the Oracle. I can sense the lady is in grave danger,” she claimed, her eyes were still close.

“Wait! I still have many questions,” Squall protested.

“Time is of the essence,” she said, in a cold voice. “Umbra, take him there,” she instructed.

“At least tell me who she is. Who am I supposed to protect?” he pleaded.

Before Squall could say anything else, Umbra’s time-warping magic engulfed him.

Everything around him started to swirl and contort. Squall felt as if he was in a freefall. Everything around him started to whiz past him until it all became a blur.

Next thing he saw a giant Titan hurling a boulder towards someone. He saw a petite figure erecting a shield to prevent the direct impact of the boulder. Titan slammed his fist close to her sending her flying.

‘That idiot is going to get herself killed.’ He thought before rushing to her aid.

Everything started distorting and swirling again for Luna. The next image to stabilize was of Lestallum.

She saw Leon’s struggles during the time she was asleep. She saw him skipping meals to save money to pay for her bills. She saw him carry her across the town with a broken arm. She saw him talking to her and taking care of her. She saw everything she was unable to see before.

She was losing her battle against tears after seeing everything Leon did for her.

Once again, everything started to distort and swirl. The next image to stabilize was of Taelpar Rest Area.

Luna pulled the car in the parking lot of the Taelpar Rest Area. Leon grabbed a few things he had to deliver from the trunk and disappeared from sight while Luna filled up the gas.

After finishing his chores Leon was walking back towards the car when he heard an elderly voice coming from the sidewalk, “Hello young man, would you like to buy something from this old lady?”

Leon glanced in the direction of the voice to notice an old lady with a dark complexion and a light patch around her right eye. She sat along the footpath with all her books spared on a small cloth. Without browsing her wares, he said, “I am sorry, I am not interested.”

“I have some of the rarest books you will ever find,” she tried to entice him as he was about to leave. He was not a particular fan of books, but Luna was, so he decided to browse the books she was selling. “Show me what you got.”

“Ah a book reader, are you?” she asked.

“I am not, but my friend is,” he revealed, scanning all the books on offer.

“They call me Stiria,” she introduced herself.

[Stiria? I know that name.]

“Squall,” he introduced himself.

“What a unique name you have,” she complimented, to which he nodded in response. “What kind of books does your friend like?”

“Fantasy, adventure, and romance I guess,” he said, trying to recollect what Luna had said earlier.

“Then how about this book? Durai Papers by Orran Durai? It's quite a tale of faith, power, and betrayal.”

“No,” he said, disinterested.

“If you are looking for something more romantic, then I’d recommend LOVELESS,” she offered.

“Nah,” he looked at the cover page and chose to keep looking.

“Might I interest you in, ‘The Song of the Savior?’” she offered again.

He shook his head and continued to browse. Nothing caught his eyes, so he decided to walk away.

“Wait, how about this?” she picked up a book buried under the pile of other books.

“No, I am not interested,” he replied, even without turning.

“Not interested even in Wishing Upon A Star?” she asked in her shaky voice. He froze in his steps when he heard that. He quickly turned around and went back to her. He looked at the cover and it was indeed that rare book he had heard from Luna.

“This is the only remaining copy of this book,” she offered her book so Squall could see it up close.

He examined the cover, and it was indeed ‘Wishing Upon A Star.’ “How much for this?” he asked eagerly, still not believing his eyes.

“I can sell it to you for 1,370,000 Gil.”

“Woah! That’s an absurd amount of money for a book.”

“This is a bargain, I tell you. On the black-market, this would fetch a lot more.”

“I don’t have that kind of money,” he admitted, shaking his head.

“How much can you afford for this?” she asked.

Leon emptied his wallet and his pockets to gather all the cash he had on him. He counted everything, and it added up to 41,269 gils. Accounting for their upcoming journey and its associated expenses, he proposed, “I can offer you 25,000 gil at the most.”

“Dear, that won’t do. This book is worth far more than that. I can’t do it for that price,” she asserted, gently taking the book back from his hand.

Leon knew he had nothing more to offer, yet his feet refused to move.

After one minute, Leon was still standing there, contemplating what else he can offer for it. “Besides money is there anything else I can do for you to make up for this price of this book?”

“I am an old lady with simple needs. All I need is some money to live out the rest of my days in comfort.”

Leon was disappointed to hear that. He was hoping that maybe he could help her out with a quest or some errands to make up for the cost of the book.

Even though Luna would have loved to have this book, he knew he couldn’t afford it. He had to go now.

He turned around and started walking away with a heavy heart. He had only taken a few steps when he heard Stiria say, “Perhaps there is one thing we can trade.”

This was music to his ears. With a spring in his steps, he rushed back to her. “What can I offer you?” he asked eagerly.

“I noticed that pendant of yours. Is that Griever? The avatar of the God of death?” she asked curiously.

“Yes, you know of him?” he was surprised that she recognized it.

“Yes, the legend says that the Maker created Eos, the Goddess of life, and Hyne, the God of death. Eos gives life to all creatures on the planet, while Hyne harvests their soul at the end of their mortal life and returns it to Eos. Together they were to maintain the equilibrium of this and many other worlds. Their harmony soon blossomed into love unlike any other. Their love was pure, but tragic. They were like day and night. Neither complete without the other, yet they can never be together. They were destined to be apart yet it didn’t stop them from loving each other.” She took a brief pause as if recollecting the details before continuing.

“But there was another. The God of war, Bahamut, a close friend of Hyne who also loved goddess Eos, but she had eyes only for Hyne. The God of War got jealous and out of spite he secretly corrupted humanity with vices like ego, stubbornness, jealousy, anger, lust, and greed. Humanity, now intoxicated by these vices, started destroying the planet for their selfish gain. Eos loved humans, so to see her children getting corrupted broke her heart. Hyne felt Eos’s pain and decided to erase corrupted humanity so Eos could create life anew. Being opportune as always, Bahamut instigated humanity to fight back against Hyne and provided them with magic and technology to do so. Hyne was the God of death, he would not be defeated so easily. He was fierce as a lion on the battlefield, but the constant war was wearing him down. It was only a matter of time before Hyne would fall against humanity, secretly backed by the God of War himself. However, the true victim of all this was Eos, as she had to witness a war between the one she loved and the one she created. She realized that the only death of humanity or Hyne would end this war,” Stiria paused once again. Leon was really intrigued by this story wanted to know more.

“The ever-opportunistic Bahamut approached Eos and offered to put an end to this war in exchange for her love. It was his time to be her knight in shining armor, or so he thought. Eos was appalled by the very idea of loving another and rejected him. Enraged from this, Bahamut devised a cunning plan to kill Hyne. Bahamut joined Hyne as an ally in the battle of Pitioss. Shiva, a faithful friend of Eos, had learned of Bahamut’s plan and tipped her off. Eos rushed to the battlefield along with Shiva to save Hyne. Unbeknownst to anything, a battle-weary Hyne was surprised to see Eos there. A momentary vulnerability was all Bahamut needed to plunge his sword in the back of Hyne. But he did not stop there. Bahamut conjures his many swords and was about to strike him down Hyne as Eos begged him to stop it. Eos finally gave in and said that she loved Bahamut, hoping that he would spare Hyne. Those words hurt Hyne more than any weapon could ever. Bahamut was merciless. His many swords plunged into Hyne’s body from the back as Hyne bellowed in pain. Hyne died thinking his love had betrayed him. Eos screamed in agony as Bahamut swords severed Hyne’s body in half. He tossed half of Hyne’s body to humanity who had served him so well in his grand scheme. Humans would learn to harness Hyne’s powers by means of sorceresses. He then tossed the remaining body to wailing Eos,” Stiria narrated.

“Eos cradled the remains of Hyne's body and tried to revive her fallen lover, but it was too late. By splitting Hyne’s body into two, Bahamut had fragmented his essence as well. To preserve the remains of Hyne, Eos congregated his remaining essence into a pendant and a ring. That pendant and the ring would go on to be known as Griever: a symbol of the grieving hearts of Hyne and Eos. Thundering laughter echoed through the atmosphere as Bahamut rejoiced his victory in conquering his lover. With fury in her eyes, Eos proclaimed that she would never be his. She claimed her life by her own trident, which will later be known as the Trident of the Oracle. Her essence was concentrated into the crystal, the soul of this planet. Her mortal body became one with the planet as she too died grieving for her lover. Hyne died thinking that he was betrayed by his love and Eos blamed herself for his death. Ironically, the only remains of their love were the pain and grief left behind in the form of Griever,” Stiria concluded.

“Fascinating tale. Although the story I’ve been told of Hyne is slightly different,” Leon said, recollecting the legend he had heard in his world.

“In war, the victor gets to dictate the history. Survivors write the history, not the dead,” she pointed.

“True. I always thought Bahamut was a good guy. This story paints him in a completely different light. It makes sense that he would spread the false narrative of the events,” he said, looking at her.

“Seeing his love die in front of his eyes, Bahamut had a change of heart. Ever since that day, the Six have been protecting this planet with Bahamut personally looking after the Crystal and her Trident. Is he protecting this world out of his love for Eos or out of fear of retaliation from Eos and Hyne? Only Bahamut knows that.”

“Fear of retaliation? But both Eos and Hyne are dead,” he pointed.

“The legend says that Eos and Hyne will be reincarnated over and over again until they can finally be together. Throughout centuries, across many realms, they have been reincarnated as Cloud and Aerith, Tidus and Yuna, Ashe and Rasler, Serah and Noel, Stella and Noctis, and many more, but their story always ends in heartbreak. Every time one is left grieving the death of the other. It is said that the Eos and Hyne walk among us even now, still searching for their happy ending.”

“Fascinating,” was all Squall could say.

“Now are you interested in this trade?” she asked, picking up the book again.

“I had honestly forgotten all about it,” he admitted sheepishly.

“That’s all right. I would give you this rare book if you can give me the pendant and the ring,” she offered. “Surely, that can’t be the real thing. It must be a replica,” she added to convince him.

After seriously contemplating Leon finally replied, “This pendant and the ring means a lot to me. This is a symbol of my past and who I am now. I won’t trade it for anything in the world.”

“I understand. In that case, I am afraid that you have nothing of value to me,” she said, putting down the book.

With a disappointment evident on his face, Leon slowly walked away from her.

With every step he took a pang of unknown guilt stabbed at his heart. Luna’s words played in his head.

“What would you do if somehow someone gave you that last copy of that book?”

“I would enamor them. You have no idea how much this book means to me. It's more than just a book to me. It represents the bond between my mother and me. To hold that book once again in my hand would mean the world to me.”

His feet stopped moving as that memory resurfaced.

‘Leon, what are you doing? This is one thing that represents Luna’s bond with her mother. How can you just walk away like that?’ spoke his heart.

‘Get her that book at the cost of my Griever? No way.’ Fought back his mind.

‘It’s a trinket which has no meaning or any practical value. It is important to you because you made it so. Do you know how happy she will be to receive this book?’ Argued his heart.

‘This is the only thing I have from my past.’ Rationalized his mind.

‘But she is your future. Are you willing to let go of your future because you cannot let go of your past?’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Happiness does not come without sacrifice. Luna has sacrificed her happiness over and over again so the world can be a better place. You claim to love her and yet hesitate to give up even a trinket for her?’

[Love me? Did I hear that right?]

‘What about my happiness?’ asked his mind.

‘When you love someone, their happiness is your happiness. Remember that?’ replied his heart.

‘Yes, I do love her. Fine. You win.’

[Oh my god, he loves me]

Leon took off his pendant and ring and walked back to Stiria. He looked at both the items in his palm one last time and with a heavy heart he gave it to Stiria.

[I had an inclination that he loved me, but to actually hear it is--- is amazing. Oh God, I am losing my mind. Focus Luna, focus. Take deep breaths and calm down.]

“Thank you, Squall,” she said accepting it. Stiria handed the book to Squall and said, “I hope your friend likes this book.”

“I know she will.”

‘I will wait for the right moment to give this to her. I know she will love it. For now, let’s eat some ice-cream.’

After a few minutes, Leon returned to the car with two ice creams. He saw that Luna was talking to a street vendor, so he waved towards her to get her attention. She saw him and quickly came towards the car. She kept a few things she had bought in the trunk and joined him on the hood of the car.

Leon handed her a soft-serve chocolate vanilla ice cream once she was situated next to him.

“Ice cream? What’s the occasion?”

“This is to celebrate finishing all our deliveries,” he announced, doing cheers with their ice cream cones.

Everything started swirling again. The next image to stabilize was of a cave in Fociaugh Hollow.

[This is it. Time to find out what happened to you Leon in that cave?]

Author's notes:

Did not expect to see Cloud, Aerith, Tidus, Yuna, Ashe, Rasler, Serah, and Noel in this chapter, did you? haha

It was fun to loosely tie 5 more Final Fantasy (FFVII, FFX, FFXII, FFXIII-2, and FFXV Versus) stories with the lore of this one :)

If you pay attention to cloths Squall and Luna have been wearing since they left Lestallum you might have noticed that they have been wearing Cloud and Aerith's clothes from their various games... so I left SOME hints lol

Also, lots of Easter eggs in this chapter, lets see if you can answer them. 1) Which game is Stiria from? (I had mentioned about her in chapter 17. I am surprised no one picked up on it.) 2) Which game is the book Durai Papers from? 3) Which game is the book LOVELESS from? (This one is super easy) 4) Which game is the book The Song of the Savior from? 5) What is significance of number 41,269 in FFVIII? 6) What is significance of 1,370,000 Gil? (If you can answer this one, without googling, then you should be crowned as FFVIII Champion. This is a hard one.)

Please leave a comment and brighten my day. Thanks :)

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postpunkpontypandyphantomthief · 5 years

Text

(The Young Ones):Party Philosophy

It was new years, Kelsie was hanging out with the gang again for a...party....a new years party with those four...this will surely go well...

Christmas was mixed, so who knew what would happen in the new year, Kelsie had watched a few films, a couple Netflix shows while also doing art projects on the side but nothing could prepare him for...the Party

Kelsie walked through the cold streets of Bristol when he had reached his destination, his ears were ringing at the 1975's the Sound blaring from inside

he had a bouquet of sunflowers in hand and a shopping bag over his shoulder as he knocked on the door

the door creaked open, echoing louder than the music, someone had styled their pigtailed fringe in a more modern "indie" fashion and a necklace made of fairy lights as his red pointed boots squeaked whilst he jived over to the front door snorting his familiar giggle "KELSIE YOU MADE IT!" he shouted enthusiastically Kelsie shrugged smiling back "I know, it's now 2019!" Rick cheered as he danced back inside "Now! let's parr-ty!"

as Kelsie walked in the house on the inside was like a circus, in each room something eccentric was happening, there was a bubble machine spreading bubbles about the house, Neil was having a few rounds of green with hippie pals,Vyvyan was impressing the guests with his mixology and DJ skills ,Mike was chilling on the sofa surrounded by multiple beautiful men...and women and men who dressed as women, some people were playing video games. too...even SPG was having a blast dancing with the flies and ice skating carrots.

there were spotlights flashing fluorescent desaturated toned colours making the usually yellow walls look pink and purple

it was beautiful to see, but there were barely any places to sit, Kelsie rolled his eyes "could we talk in your bedroom?", he snorted a giggle before replying "Of course, we can talk in my room"

he and Kelsie ran upstairs into Rick's bedroom, his room looked similar to how it did before, but this time he had a couple of posters on his wall one of which from the musical Heathers, he had added a couple more desks full of books,dvds and cd's and a PC with pastel colours making the place light up

Kelsie sat on his bed while he did the same while Kelsie presented his gifts, the first gift was the sunflowers, Kelsie lifted them up "Happy 2019", Rick grinned happily as he took the sunflowers "Aw~ for me! thank you!"

he then put the sunflowers in a pot, placing it on the dressing table, Kelsie then took out the other gifts,a set of healing gems and some Wicca herbs for Neil,a Iron Maiden action figure,a collection of Metal cd's and Joker centered Batman comics for Vyvyan,and for Rick a light pink sweater that showed his name in Japanese kanji characters and a pair of black dungarees that had a "aesthetic" grid design along with a couple badges

Rick looked at the dungarees and smiled "This is great, you didn't have to do this", Kelsie turned his head "I wanted to, I haven't seen you in ages", Rick looked up and shrugged "True, what have you been up to? anyway"

Kelsie inhaled and explained "well I've been doing well at my media course, I've been with some mates,I learned that I am constantly in this dimensional vortex between me and "the other Kelsie, apparently the rift happens through a combination of lucid dreaming and mysticism, maybe we are all just characters, like actors on a stage you have the dreams that are imaginative, a form of escapism and are genuinely entertaining and wholesome…then you get the nightmares mixed with personal worries. a different show plays every day… you have thoughts that make you mindful, interested in a variety of topics and insightful and then you have destructive and intrusive thoughts, destructive, sometimes your alright and other times it's too much, too happy, your too overexcited, your too sad, your too cynical, your too anti-social....

Rick said, "Calm Down Kelsie, anyways I sort of get your philosophy, like robots we are given our tasks, but we don't know our meaning, until we figure it out for ourselves, sometimes accompanied by comrades on our journey, I originally thought I could be a revolutionary poet like the people in the 60s I studied about,but now I've learned a lot of them were very anti-feminist so I'm focusing on maybe being a photographer, writer or singer instead, maybe an actor too since I love volunteering at the local theatre, that Heathers play by Laurence O' Keefe and Kevin Murphy was brilliant it really spoke to me"

Kelsie blinked, "I love Heathers, I didn't know you did too, it was what got me back into Musicals and 1980s movies,"

Rick scrunched up his nose and stared "you know you sound like Effy from Skins"

Kelsie was shocked "Wait, Skins? you've watched that?, and Effy I'd say I'm more like Chris, Sid or Maxie to be honest"

Rick nodded, "Yep,loved it,always prefered the first generation though,like you don't intend to sound like Effy but the way you incorporate philosophy into your punk values and anti-social view on life it's like Effy, but despite that you still try to be there for people around you, despite times where your emotions are as hollow as eggshells

Kelsie tilted his head "I can see that but Effy still sounds more like you at times"

Rick quickly slipped on his new pair of dungarees and picked up his camera "Anyways, let's start this Skins parrr-ty" he then tagged along with Kelsie downstairs

Kelsie was still groaning once downstairs "oh no you seriously didn't"

while Vyvyan was cleaning the bar countertop SPG popped out and said "no use foreshadowing while the room is as bright as heaven"

then the party had begun "the music was blaring loud, RIck would, unfortunately, sing out of tune and Kelsie would dance along with him"

before crashing out on the floor next to Neil and his hippie pals, trying to astral project the universe, after that, they got back to singing and dancing from ABBA to The 1975 to MCR to Twisted Sister to The Wombats

it was quite the wild party, luckily Rick and Kelsie were teetotal (not drinking alcohol), while Mike was trying to stop Neil was puking into a plant and Vyvyan adjusted the bubble machine

as the party was almost over, while Rick and Kelsie were resting they kept talking about philosophy

Rick flickered his eyes "what goals do you want to accomplish?" Kelsey thought about it "I'd like to showcase my poetry to a wider audience, I'd like to make people laugh by doing some stand-up comedy and I want to be me for once, not letting anything hold me back, being able to bring art and love into the world, while also spending more time with my friends from the main universe and from this universe

Rick bulged his eyes out gasping "I remember now, this lucid dreaming thing you mentioned, I do it too,I've been in your dreams,this is a lucid dream,you are visiting this universe, in the dream,and your goals sound like mine, while not mine, but the other me, the person who played me as a character role in your universe, you've watched me, you write about me, you draw me, you think about me...well you think about me a lot"

Kelsie couldn't believe what was happening

Rick continued "I've inspired you a lot, and you have a lot in common with me"

"You...are me, your the next people's poet, that is your meaning to bring peace, art love and anarchy to the world"

Kelsie was speechless "I,I, wow"

Kelsie bowed to him "Well it is an honour to be the people's poet of the 21st century"

(a few hours later)

the music was still going, but Vyvyan was uninstalling his DJ kit so he could watch Netflix, Neil had a hangover and Mike was outside having a cigarette break

Rick sighed, "I'm bored" Kelsie rolled his eyes "same", Rick mumbled to himself "a million more parties and I'll still never get a shag" Kelsie had overheard "Rick?" Rick sniffled scoffing "what?" he looked up "I've always saved mine for someone very special and if you think it's time can I be your first?"

he smiled "yes you can," he said in a soft tone as they both ran back upstairs to his room, with Rick being the bottom, but he did always know he'd be in that position

he pulled down his dungarees and slipped on a rubber johnny and some lotion, he was ready, he slithered along like a snake, while Kelsie felt not many physical feelings during the act he could feel a sensation in his stomach,it was alright,but it had been overhyped so they just teased each other, pulling his pigtails and play fighting they ended up forgetting about the act and just tickling and cuddling each other

After a round of Guitar Hero, the party was over, Neil, Mike and Vyvyan waved Goodbye as Kelsie made his way back to the front door before he felt a soft peck from her lips as Rick kissed him as he waved goodnight

#skins #effy #the young ones #tyo #young ones #rick pratt #kelsie ui neil #self insert #fanfic #fanfiction

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insomniasix · 7 years

Text

Altissia’s Aftermath

A/N:Alright, what I’ve said about my O/C Six this far is that she’s an immortal sent to see the One True King succeed against the Darkness and it’s deamons.. Not much about the power she possesses or anything about her past really.. Sorry.. I’ll explain everything in time.. I promise on Gladio’s abs!

Now, I know what you read may seem very very strange and out of storyline so please keep in mind that this is kinda my game re-write, so game rules don’t really apply if I can’t make up a story worthy for Six.

I’m still having some Ignis feels after Cooking Magic so this is to clear the way and give some kind of title to Ignis’ and Six’s relationship.

It’s gonna get more wrong before it gets right, so just bear with me!

Feedback is always appreciated!

Altissia was by far the most beautiful place Six had been in. Prettier than Gralea, Tenebrae and the old Crown City put together. It was even better when she and the boys actually reached it. After everything they had been through. All the agony, pain and death they had all witnessed. After losing everything they cared about ; Altissia was a safe heaven.

They couldn’t wait to see all of its grace. The stores, the people. Prompto couldn’t wait to ride in a gondola, by the Astrals, Six wasn’t sure he’d been so exited in his life. Not even when they reached Wiz’s Chocobo Post for the first time; even Noctis was exited to roam about in the streets. That was until they reached Vivienne Westwood’s display of Luna’s wedding dress. Six expected him to think about everything that was supposed to be but the look on Noctis’ face; it broke her heart.

Sure, Six had lost a lot in the days past but she was used to it. Used to the pain of loss. Noctis though. She couldn’t even look at him without trying to get into his shoes. The pain he must’ve been feeling. Losing a loving father, a home; being drawn into a destiny he knew nothing about. He was afraid, damn, he was petrified but he never let it show. He remained strong, for his friends. For Luna. And Six couldn’t be more proud of him!

Altissia was also the home of an old friend. Weskham Armaugh. Six hadn’t seen Wes since after Accordo, and “Damn, you look old buddy” was the first thing she thought when they reached Maagho.

After a good meal by the hands of her old friend and a good night’s sleep after a long while, the company was ready to face Altissia's first secretary, Camelia Claustra, for further negotiations.

Noctis agreed with Claustra’s plan to provide four of his company to the people of the city. They were divided into two teams and helped with the evacuations. Gladio and Prompto managed to protect and evacuate the people of Altissia they had under their supervision and Six and Ignis were handling their own.

That was until Leviathan went on a rampage. Injuring both Luna and Noctis in doing so.

Luna helped Noctis call upon the Kings of old for help; something that had Six’s magic going crazy and drawing her to them for help. It was her duty after all. Though in order to run to her king’s side she had to leave her best friend behind.

After a swift move of her arm the magitek assassin fell on his knees. He tried to get up and charge at her again but Six dropped her sword and sliced his head from his shoulders and down at her feet, only to kick it over and move on to the next one. On her left, Ignis was fighting his own battle, using every bit of style he had in doing so. Finesse was something that characterized his way of fighting. In contrast to Six’s style of asking questions later, Ignis was using his head first when it came down to fighting or anything really.

“What now?” Six asked after looking the next hoard of Magitek soldiers that were coming their way.

“We need to find the others.” Ignis threw a magic flask at the front line troops, slowing them down.

When Six didn’t answer he turned to look at her. She was just standing there. Clenching at her sword for dear life, looking at the direction of the huge fight that was taking place between the Hydraen and Noctis. She was fixated on it and Ignis tried everything to snap her out of it; with no result.

“Noct’s in trouble!” she almost screamed at him.

“Go! I’ll take care of our guests.”

“Ign-“

“Go!” he yelled and she let her magic bound lead her to the young king. Swinging her sword right and left with all her power and using any kind of magic she could summon, unaware of the deep cut across her collarbone, she managed to reach them. Luna was protecting an unconscious Noctis, not caring of her own fatal wound and Leviathan was raising threateningly above them, ready to strike the final blow.

Six threw her weapon and wrapped, standing in between the Astral and the Oracle. With her sword in one hand and blood dripping from the other she spoke “Tell him what he needs to know Lunafreya.”

“Six”

“Tell him. For as long as I’m standing tall; You have all the time in the world.”

Luna lowered her forehead to touch Noctis’ and whispered.

Six raised her bloody arm and her eyes glowed a bright red; calling forth the Titan and unleashing his wrath against Leviathan in order to protect the Chosen King.

Six woke up a couple of days later in the secretary’s estate. She squinted her eyes to help with the headache the sudden light was causing. She rubbed her temples with the fingers of her right hand, only to be surprised to see it burning!

It wasn’t on fire, it looked more like the aftermath of the campfire after it’s been put off; like burning ash. It didn’t hurt her either, but she could feel it covering half her body. She could see it reaching all of her right arm; from the fingers to her neck, but she could also feel it running down from her face to her thigh.

She took in a breath to calm herself. She knew that would happen if she called upon the Astrals. Bahamut had warned her they wouldn’t be able to answer her call without some kind of sacrifice if the One True King was promised their aid.

A small squeeze on her left hand drew her away from her thoughts and a whimper made her turn her attention on a sleeping Gladio by her side. He looked exhausted, but other than that unharmed.

Running her scarred hand through his messy hair, Six let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

Gladio jumped at the touch like a scared cat, ready to fight anything that tried to hurt his precious girlfriend but relaxed almost immediately when he met her loving eyes.

“Hello beautiful!” he smiled; seeing her awake after something like that made him happy.

“Gladdy?” she almost whispered, her voice breaking not only because she hadn’t used it in a while but also from remembering those last moments “What happened?”

“You tell me, my love.” Gladio sat next to her and took her hand in his once more “We found Iggy, got him help and ran to find you and Noct. When we finally reached you, Noct and you were unconscious, Luna was gone and the Titan had vanished with Leviathan taking half of the city with them.”

Six was trying to remain calm but failed miserably “Luna’s gone?”

“I’m sorry baby.” Gladio said sincerely.

“Noct?”

Gladio clenched his jaw but kept a levelled head “The doctor says he’s fine. He’ll wake up soon. You and Iggy got the worst of it.”

When she heard Ignis’ name Six freaked out. The memory of leaving him alone in battle was the only thing flashing before her eyes “Iggy! Where is he? What happened?” Her heart was racing; waiting for Gladio to answer.

“I’ll take you to him.” He said, helping her up from the bed and into her own clothes.

She took off the pair of white pants and top she was wearing; only then was Gladio able to see how far her new scar run. Six herself didn’t need to see it; she was feeling it running through every cell it touched.

Gladio didn’t mean to but he was staring. Concern written all over his face.

“Gladiolus” Six said with a broken voice “It’s rude to stare.”

His full name alone was enough to get his attention, but her voice; it broke his heart. He took another look at her, making sure his gaze didn’t linger on her body longer than it had to and cleared his throat “My love…what…how..?” He didn’t know what to ask her. How to make her feel better. How this wouldn’t turn bad.

Six raised her eyes from the floor and glued them on the figure on the mirror in front of her “I had a friend once. A powerful friend.” She explained “He said they needed help with a serious matter. I agreed to help and in return they provided what I needed. Even their own assistance.”

Gladio listened closely while gently helping her get dressed. He could see her eyes watering; he knew this was important.

“I have a duty to the Astrals; to the world. I’m supposed to stand tall ‘til the One True King defeats the Darkness and its minions. This…” she pointed at her scarred skin “this is what happens when I don’t heed their warnings! I called forth the Titan knowing what it meant; destroying half the city. I paid that price!”

Six turned to look at Gladio; the tears that were forming in her eyes before were now running down her cheeks “How the hell am I supposed to help if I keep paying for it?” she paused for a while, gathering her thoughts “How the hell am I supposed to grow old with you if I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me?” her voice just above a whisper but it was enough to surprise Gladio.

“As Noct gets stronger” she continued, crossing her arms in front of her chest “I grow weaker; and that’s supposed to be a good thing.” She smiled while streams of tears continued to come down her face “Believe me, I get it! I want him to succeed. I want him to give future to the ones who want to see it but… I find myself wanting to see it too!” at this point she was crying uncontrollably; Gladio ran at her side. Taking her into his arms and trying to calm her; humming to her, running his hand through her hair, kissing the top of her head. Simply being there for her!

He kept holding her for a few more minutes and the sound of his heartbeat finally had her calm down a bit. Enough so she could continue “What happens when he succeeds Gladio? Do I get to live and see a future? Am I free; or do all those years or roaming Eos finally catch up with me and I disappear with the Astrals?”

“Babe, look at me” Gladio let his hug loosen a bit, just enough for her to be able to look up at him “Whatever the answer to that is; we’ll figure it out. Together!” Gladio’s eyes were piercing hers. A look so sincere, so pure that made Six’s next move so much harder.

“No.” she said and pulled away. Escaping his grasp. His hands moved with her, trying to pull her back close to him, but failed.

“What?” Gladio was surprised by her answer. He knew she felt the same way he did. He also knew she was scared and for the first time in his life, he could admit he was too.

“No.” anger and frustration sounded in her breaking voice “whatever this is” she pointed back and forth at the space between them “it’s not working out! I can’t… I can’t fulfill my duty and be with you. So I won’t do it.” She kept her eyes locked on the floor while talking.

Gladio could practically hear his heart breaking. Though he wasn’t sure if it was his or hers. They were bound by destiny. He knew that much; but what if she was right? What if destiny was just a cruel game and the rules had just changed? “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… I’m done, Gladio. We’re over! From here on out you are the King’s Shield and I’m his Glaive; like we always have. And that’s that.”

“Six” Gladio reached out to hold her hand, still not believing her. Still not understanding. Not knowing what he was supposed to do to save it.

Six put her jacket on and answered without even looking at him, thinking her eyes would betray her words “Goodbye Gladio.”

She busted out of the room crying her eyes out at what she had just done. She was so focused on her thoughts that she never saw him. She fell on the man with the cane and they both fell flat on their backs with a grunt.

Six grabbed the cane from next to her and got up, hurrying to help the helpless man; only to have her heart drop to the floor next to him. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing “Ignis?” her voice broke in a million little pieces at the sight in front of her.

Ignis was wearing his normal clothes, a pair of dark pants and his grey T-shirt; hair down, sticking on his forehead. Something he rarely did. But that wasn’t what captured her attention. What had her heart breaking was his face; he had bandages covering both his eyes and he was full of bruises.

“Six? Is that you?” he asked concerned.

“Iggy?” she helped him up and cleaned the dust of his shirt “what…?”

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we? It sounds like we have a lot to discuss.”

Ignis and Six went out of the estate in silence. They walked towards a clearing high up the canals where the Cathedral used to stand, only to find its remaining ruins. She helped Ignis walk upon the rubble and sit on what looked like it used to be one of the columns of the building.

Ignis put his cane next to him and cleared his hands from the dust of the column while Six just stood there, looking at what used to be the rest of the city.

“Tell me. What do you see?” Ignis asked. Voice low, resembling nothing to his old confident self.

“Ruins.” Six answered, folding her arms in front of her chest, thinking this was the outcome of her own decisions.

“Altissia; or yourself?”

Ignis’ words hit her right in the gut. She instantly felt sick; sick of what had happened because of her. Of what had happened to her best friend because of her. Because she abandoned him in his time of need. She turned to look at him, tears in her eyes. “Will you um…” she cleared her throat, despaired to hide her guilt and find the right words “Will you be able to see again?”

“The doctor was not certain.” He answered her calmly “Time heals all wounds. I’m certain my own will not be very different.”

Six walked closer to him, not able to take in his answer. Once she was right in front of him she fell on her knees. Guilt had won the battle inside her and her eyes wouldn’t stop tearing “Iggy; I’m so sorry.” She cried out “I’m so sorry about all of this. I should have stayed with you! I should have-“

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” He carefully placed his hand on her scarred cheek “You did what you had to. You had to protect the Ki-“

“I had to protect my family!” she cut him off, not moving out of his embrace.

“And you did! You did good my dear.” His voice was so proud, like he meant what he said. Like he was proud of the decision she had made “You protected your King. Now he will be able to fulfill his duty. And maybe when he does the world –you- will be free. Maybe you and Gladio, Prompto, Noct and I will be able to grow old and live the lives we are due.”

“I am the reason for all this.” She answered, haunted by his own aspiration of a common future where they’re all happy. Even without his vision. “Why would you be so kind with me? Why aren’t you mad?”

He placed the cane in front of him, between his legs; he placed his hands on the top of it, one covering the other, like an old person ready to give a lecture to some kid. “Because no matter what the legends say, you are still one person. A person I’ve come to care deeply about!” he smiled warmly at her “Six, my dear. You are my best friend! My family. And I’ll be damned to let something that was out of your hands get the best of us.”

Six was crying uncontrollably now, not able to handle his kind words. Her mind ran back at what she had done just a few moments before. How she was the one to give up on her relationship with Gladio and she cried even harder.

“Six?” Ignis asked after a few moments of letting her get it all out. “Prompto informed me of your-“ he cleared his throat “new scars. What are they? His description was vague, to say the least.”

“Did he say it looked like it’s burning?” she asked calmly, looking at her scarred hand.

“Roughly, yes.”

“Well that’s what it is; what it looks like. It’s crystalline scarring, from using a forbidden power. It runs from my face down to my leg. Covering just barely all of my right side.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No. it’s not there to hurt. It’s there to remind me I’m not worthy of the power I called upon.”

“Will-“ Ignis started but was cut off by her answer.

“No. It won’t kill me.”

“Then why leave Gladio?”

Six’s head couldn’t have turned faster “How did you..?”

“Walls are paper thin in an estate like this. I happened to pass by.”

She stayed silent for a second and Ignis tried to get her to talk to him “So?”

“Iggy. I…” she let out a long breath, figuring out a way to express her reasons “Whatever this is and whatever happens after” she stopped, licking her lips, wanting to begin again but knowing she couldn’t “I’ll be damned if I let Gladio go through my death, or even the idea of it. And even if nothing happens and I remain an immortal, I don’t think I’ll be able to watch him die. Even if I have the perfect life with him. His death; it might just be what does me in.” she run her hand through her hair, letting out another long breath “I won’t even comment on how he shouldn’t have to look at these scars of mine.”

She let her head fall once again, defeated by the idea she will one day have to witness all their deaths. She had gone through it before. Raising kids and watch them die, of old age or in battle. She went through it with Crowe, she went through it with Nyx and Clarus, Gladio’s father, and she went through it with Regis. Though the thought of losing Gladio, Ignis, Prompto and Noctis; it had her crumbling to the ground.

Ignis placed his fingers underneath her chin and made her look at him; caressing the burned skin on her face “I think” he said “that no matter the scars each of us now carry, we’re always going to be bound by destiny. I’m always your best friend and you are always mine. And no matter how much you try to save Gladio the trouble, he will always find his way back to you.”

Six looked up at his bandaged face and felt proud, loved, complete. Ignis always knew what to say in every kind of situation.

“Besides,” he continued “who wouldn’t want to be bound with four other psychos, running around Eos, looking for trouble?”

She left a heartfelt laugh and he hugged her. Letting her know it was all going to be alright.

Ignis and Six stayed there for some time longer, hugging each other for dear life.

Tagging these amazing people (if you’re not following them... well go do it! what are you waiting for?!) @cupnoodle-queen @themissimmortal @nifwrites @rubyphilomela

#ffxv #ffxv fanfiction #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #gladio x oc #ignis x oc #six #chocobros #altissia #nyx ulric #clarus amicitia #regis lucis caelum #crowe altius #astrals #bahamut #weskham armaugh

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houseplant-central · 3 years

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This post will contain spoilers about the entirety of the Star Wars Christmas Special, if you’ve never seen it I HIGHLY recommend you do so with fresh, unknowing eyes because it is an absolute experience. Link here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hH8rxarVG8&t=1278s

This post will also contain spoilers for other Star Wars films, but if you've uhhh ever been on the internet you will have already seen such things.

We open on a black screen and a straight to TV movie announcer voice establishing that Chewie needs to get home to his family for life day (Wookiee Christmas). We seen Han and Chewie in the falcon for like, 5 seconds, and then we sit through 5 minutes of including an add for General Motors. Apparently Chewie’s father’s name is “Itchy”, his son’s name is “Lumpy”, but his wife gets the normal name of Mala.

Also, Chewie having a family completely changes the moral values of his character. Sure, after the events of the first film he’s involved in war so he has to be away, but before the first Star Wars film are we to presume that Chewie is a dead beat father who left his wife with their young son to go be a smuggler with Han? Or is the economy on the Wookiee planet so bad that this was a necessary move? Mala’s house seems quite middle class but perhaps that’s only because she’s been provided with Chewie’s smuggling money? But him and Han are in debt? Or is only Han in debt? There are a few ways this could shake out but it’s more likely than not that Chewie willingly chose a life where he rarely sees his kid, Lumpy (I can’t type Lumpy without laughing) and, what the hell, man?

!!! After writing this I remembered than Chewie has a life debt to Han as of the recent Solo movie canon. So in fact it is Han who's dragged this poor man away from his family and allows him to visit only once a year. The questions about the wookie economy remain however.

Then we get like ten minutes of the three Wookiees speaking Wookiee to one another with no subtitles. This will set the tone for the film, I’m afraid. Lumpy watches a hologram circus for a few minutes and then refuses the do the dishes. Mala checks the TRAFFIC report even though Chewie and Han are? In space? And being chased by imperials? And then skypes Luke on a hidden tv that seems to be just for Skyping Luke’s garage.

Luckily for us, Luke is in his garage, in an orange jumpsuit and ten pounds of eyeshadow. He’s condescending to the Wookiees for about 5 minutes while staring directly into the camera and not blinking and then tells Mala to smile which she does, in a terrifying manner, and then I guess Mark Hamill had to go because something explodes in his garage and then Skype connection is conveniently lost. (And no, we don’t ever check on him until the final scene, which is more likely than not a communal drug trip and not an actual confirmation that Luke is okay).

Mala checks the traffic again and this time gets direct footage of the Wookiee planet trading post? There, a discount Vader says “I hate fish” very passionately, after being handed a minuscule aquarium which is just apparently for if you want a pet fish you can keep in your pocket at all times?

We cut directly to actual Vader, who says he’s going to search “every household in the system for the rebels”. The implication here is that this could ruin Mala’s Life Day, which is HILARIOUS because what about the other implications of Vader having enough men to search “every household in the system”?

We cut directly from the enemy starship to mala cooking. Not in a juxtaposition way, but in a “we forgot what genre this film is”, “four minutes of Chinese medical drama inserted into iron man three for the Chinese release” kind of way.

(https://www.google.ca/amp/s/www.hollywoodreporter.com/amp/news/iron-man-3-china-scenes-450184)

Mala watches a cooking show which features a British drag queen, and Chewie and Han fight a handful of imperial fighters in the middle of nowhere in space.

An imperial soldier skypes the Chewbacca residence reminding them that he’ll be coming around to look for rebels (and WHY is Chewie coming home if he’s going to endanger his family?) The guy who runs the trading post arrives with a part so they can tell him about how Chewie’s late. He also makes Chewie’s wife kiss him on the cheek which is.... a little weird. Lumpy gets a present that’s basically space lego, Mala gets some sort of sewing machine and old man Itchy gets a virtual reality headset that shows him 10 minutes of some lady in space posing, whispering and singing erotically and saying things like “I am your fantasy, I am your pleasure”. Which we of course have to watch as well for 10 minutes. Occasionally we cut back to Itchy’s face in the VR and he is concerning my into it.

As one review aptly pointed out “I wonder what Chewie’s father fantasizes about is not one of the things I wanted to know after watching A New Hope”.

Sexy space hologram actually has quite a powerful singing voice, but watching old man Itchy watch VR erotica while Han and Chewie are fighting for their lives is.... weird.

We immediately cut to Leia and C3PO who Skype in the Wookiee residence. Leia ends up speaking to the guy who runs the trading post who’s.... still at Mala’s house, because she’d rather speak English than have C3PO translate for Mala and her. Leia decides Mala is in “good hands” with this trading post guy, and Carrie Fisher’s first cameo is over.

They turn on the TV and an imperial reminds them that he’ll be coming around soon to check their houses for rebels (why is Chewie coming home if he’s a wanted man here?). As the man on the tv says this him and storm troopers show up at the door (so I guess it was recorded). There’s some casual anti-Wookiee racism and then they guy from the trading post covers for them by saying the husband of the house ran out after a fight. The imperials decide to wait for the man of the house.

The trading post guy shows them mala’s sewing machine which is, in fact, a small tv shaped like a sewing machine. We watch the imperial soldier watch a music video on the mini tv. This goes on for 6 minutes and even I skipped ahead.

The music video is so dope the imperials deicide they’re going to leave, and then they don’t. And then they search upstairs. The leader loudly announces he wants them to find evidence to connect this house to the alliance (even though they don’t even know chewy lives here, I guess they just don’t like Lumpy and Itchy?)

One of them nearly shoots Lumpy just for being annoying (which, fair, his childish Wookiee noises are annoying as hell). Mala turns on a cartoon for him, which is A CARTOON ABOUT THE REBEL ALLIANCE, which Lumpy then watches WHILE THE IMPERIALS ARE IN THE HOUSE SEARCHING IT I...???

And also when was a cartoon about the rebels produced and how was it distributed when the empire is still in charge. It’s only been a few months since the distraction of the Death Star— even if they were going to make a propaganda cartoon about the rebel leaders wouldn’t they? Make it about what happened? Why make a cartoon about events that didn’t happen?

Also the cartoon just feels like somebody by was vaguely described the original Star Wars franchise while drunk.

Boba Fett is in the cartoon too, for some reason, and is actively working with the empire as opposed to Jaba.

The imperials search through ONLY Lumpy’s room, and find nothing (who would hide their rebel alliance stuff in their kid’s room anyways?) Mala is undisturbed by this destruction, happy that Lumpy will be busy cleaning for a bit, which is pretty fucking cold if you ask me.

Then we get to the famous instruction tape scene. Lumpy watches an instructional video for a “transmitter” part that does not exist in real life and we watch him watch it for 8 minutes.

We switch to an “imperial made” program about the moral evils of Tatooine, which is actually a short rom-com about the canteena. This naturally spirals into an anti-empire musical number.

Chewie and Han arrive just in time to save Lumpy from a stormtrooper and then Han tells Chewie’s family they’re “like family to him” with the deadest eyes and they all stare at each other for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Mala and Chewie have as sentimental of a reunion as two Wookiees can have. We transition directly from the threat of the empire to the Wookiee family of four holding their life day candles which, of course, cues up the weird psychedelic music video that is all the Wookiees of the planet singing silently and then walking slowly in their red robes through space into the light.

The Wookiees of the planet then, all sharing this fever dream together, greet in front of the great tree to murmur and hold their candles. Unclear whether there was a quick costume change or if they’re all astral projecting together. We get a small speech from C3P0 and then the main trio absolutely steal the spotlight, with Leia singing a long song and Han staring into the middle ground like he has no idea where he is. The Wookiees, whose holiday this is, get to say basically nothing. A Wookiee baby seems to have been baptised, but it’s unclear. Leia also stands next to Chewie and pets his chest weirdly even though we have literally just spent the last hour and a half establishing that he’s a married man. As the Wookiees all gather at the tree, Chewie has a flashback that basically recounts the first film, including events he was not present for.

Chewie and his three family members pray over life day dinner, and credits roll over the drawing of his house.

So what does all this actually change about the Star Wars canon? Not much, especially considering that the actors involved genuinely refuse to admit that it ever happened. It was an obvious cash grab after the success of the first film, that much is obvious. But it does imply a few things about the characters in canon, and it has created a few good memes.

The implications:

- Han is a uncle-ish figure to Chewie's kid, despite being a terrible influence

- The economy on the wookie homeplanet is NOT GOOD considering they only have one trading post. Either nobody has thought of the concept of exporting raw materials like all the funky trees with funky lumber that they have, or the empire is just exporting what they need without paying the wookies anything.

- Either Han or Chewie is responsible for Chewie's kid having an absent father figure.

- Leia learned how to sing at one point

- Between A New Hope and Empire Strikes Back when they reach Hoth Luke went to live somewhere with a garage? Instead of training for imminent war? And Han and Chewie fucked off to go back to smuggling.

- Leia is like, a little racist? Possibly unconsciously because of her upbringing? But she calls Chewbacca's house to say hello and then when no English speakers are there says she might as well go despite having a translator. Which is weird because as a diplomat you would think she'd sit through translated conversations all the time.

- Owning a pet fish is still a thing in the future. (If you're about to say "actually it's all set in the past, not the future, because it says "a long time ago"!" screw off, you know what I mean).

- VR softcore porn exists.

- Hair metal, as a musical genre still exists.

- There is a cartoon about Luke, Leia and Han in canon which presumably Luke, Leia and Han would be able to watch.

- The empire is able to keep tabs on how many Wookiees live in each residence on the Wookiee home planet, but are not able to keep tabs on which Wookie it was that was spotted with the rebels.

- Han is even more of an asshole in A New Hope than previously established, because he says he doesn't by into religion and that anyone who does is stupid but he KNOWS Chewbacca is a religious man, and Chewie is sitting right there.

The memes:

- THIS lovely face from Lumpy:

- The Wookies all walking into the light.

- Mark Hamill not blinking for 5 straight minutes.

- Bantha Loin.

- Life day itself.

- and of course, Harrison Ford denying this movie ever existed:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7TGWOHTdac

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