#secondly. they just found her in a nearby village and mentioned her to look almost identical to another cast member who was ill

[butchratchettruther]

What the new reverse 1999 event has shown me is reverse 1999 are incapable of not including yuri in everything /pos. Five minutes in and Anne’s already like Blonney do you need anything done for you are you alright Blonney do you want a drink getting Blonney do you want to abandon these slasher homage dudes to die Blonney I’ll look after you

[rwby-redux]

Deconstruction

Worldbuilding: Aura

Our first official foray into the worldbuilding category: Aura. The chakra-like soul-energy that functions as the primary fuel source for Semblances, along with a handful of auxiliary features. Despite arguably being one of the cornerstones of RWBY’s lore, the page for it on the RWBY Wiki is worringly short. Like, no joke, it’s not even 2,000 words long. Suffice to say, that’s not a good sign.

Before we get started, let’s make sure everyone’s on the same page by quickly brushing up on our definitions. Aura is the physical manifestation of one’s soul, depicted as a colored emanation around the user. This effect is first visible when a person engages their Aura, and can be seen again when a person’s Aura is close to depletion. As Aura is drained through taking damage, staving off inclement weather, or using one’s Semblance, it begins to rapidly flicker. Upon depletion, it’s represented as either a full-body shimmering effect or a particle effect with “fragments” of Aura falling away from a person’s body, signifying that they’re susceptible to physical damage. Aura is vital not just for its inherent failsafe against injury, but for the other functions it offers, including: an innate healing factor, thermoregulation, conduction of Aura through inanimate objects, extrasensory perception, and unlocking dormant Auras within others. The only prerequisite for possessing Aura is having a soul, something which all life on Remnant (except for the Grimm) has.

You know, it’s amazing just how convenient Aura is. It almost makes you wonder why

EVERYBODY ON REMNANT HASN’T FUCKING UNLOCKED IT.

Seriously, why didn’t Pyrrha use her fame as a platform to raise public awareness on Aura? We know that trained Huntsmen can unlock them for people who have no prior training (looking at you, Jaune). Couldn’t her manager have found the time in-between signing deals with Pumpkin Pete’s to get a campaign going, so she could be sponsored to travel around the country doing exactly that? Why is 90% of Remnant’s population leaving themselves deliberately vulnerable to Grimm and bandits? Seriously, RWBY, what the fuck?

Sorry. Getting ahead of myself. Deep breaths.

Let’s set aside the histrionics for a moment. Aura as a combat mechanic is pretty ingenious when you think about it. It capitalizes on a pretty well-established trope already found in the genre. If you’ve familiarized yourself with the manga and anime scene in the last decade, chances are you know what Naruto is, even if you’ve never read or watched it. Having a magical soul-powered fuel source already gives you the license to justify all of the crazy acrobatics your cast is going to be doing, and given its parallels to chakra, it isn’t going to require too much explaining to a genre-savvy audience. In theory, anyway.

I think part of the problem is that RWBY’s writing relies a little too heavily on fans having at least a vague pre-established understanding of the concept behind Aura. It lets the show dodge having to answer problems that arise from under-developing its world. Aura’s utility as a combat accessory, coupled with all of the extra functions I mentioned earlier, creates the problem of: If this tool is so useful, why doesn’t everyone have it?

If you’ve never seen Hello Future Me’s video on magic systems, I highly recommend you check it out. Without even mentioning RWBY, he manages to pinpoint the flaw with Aura (and by extension, the common flaw with most fantasy magic systems): differentiating between limitations, weaknesses, and costs.

I’ll let him take over from here:

“The most common form of limitation is a vaguely-defined limit of strength, or training, or mental acumen of the practitioner. Avatar: The Last Airbender is kind of like this. There’s no explicit limit to how much fire a person can conjure, or how strong a wind they can muster, but we know it’s kind of limited by their training, willpower, strength, and talent. Think of it as the rule of: THERE’S ONLY SO MUCH AWESOME ONE HUMAN CAN HANDLE. If you’re really trying to differentiate your hard-magic system from this common trope, then think about not relying on this particular limitation, but maybe something else. Perhaps certain powers can be negated or are affected by certain things in the environment around them, like the moon, certain plants, or minerals. That way, your magician has to be aware of their surroundings at all times, or it can be used against them by their enemies.

Secondly: weaknesses. Weaknesses in magic systems can create interesting dynamics in a story where magic would usually make a character a lot more powerful than those around them. Maybe they can transform into a werewolf at will, but that makes them vulnerable to silver bullets, though, once again, making these limitations to your magic too simple can make them…uninteresting. […] If you have multiple different powers in your story, it could be interesting to have the use of one power making them more vulnerable to another, so your character has to be cautious about using their powers around someone who could take advantage of that. …I personally feel the best magic systems affect the way your characters think or act or change the way your fictional world operates.

Finally and thirdly, perhaps the most common way that people create rules for their magic system is through magic costing something. […] Perhaps the most common magical cost is that of bodily energy. In The Wheel of Time and The Inheritance Cycle, doing something with magic exhausts you, which is fine until you try and be too magically heroic, and you overdose on magical heroin and die.” [1]

Seriously, go watch this guy’s video. He’s great.

With all of that in mind, let’s take his thesis and apply it to Aura:

Does Aura have any limitations? Not really. We’re vaguely told by Kerry Shawcross that it’s possible to increase the amount of Aura a person has, but that it’s “impractical.” Most people try to get more efficient at using Aura instead of trying to get a “bigger gauge.” [2] Unfortunately, the show hasn’t provided any evidence of what “getting more efficient” looks like—whether that’s simply increasing your training, or undertaking a specific kind of training. Is Aura like a muscle that becomes stronger the more you exercise it? We don’t know. The show hasn’t given us a definitive metric for measuring training progress, so it’s up for debate.

Does Aura have any weaknesses? Sort of. You could argue that there’s a trade-off between using your Semblance versus simply relying on Aura to tank hits. A combatant’s innate defense system draws from the same energy source as a Semblance, which could create an interesting choice between offense and defense. Do I rely on my Semblance to win, or should I conserve Aura for other things, like activating Dust or staving off hypothermia? My issue with this being a credible weakness is that we don’t really see characters grapple with this dilemma on-screen. Taiyang tells Yang to decrease her dependency on her Semblance, but that has more to do with Yang’s Semblance enabling an aggressive attack style that gives her opponents more openings, than it does anything to do with conserving Aura for other things. [3]

Does Aura have any costs? That’s a resounding no. A Semblance costs Aura to use, but Aura itself doesn’t demand anything in exchange for activating it.

From every conceivable angle, Aura sounds like a pretty sweet deal. And that’s the problem: there’s no believable in-lore explanation for why the entire world doesn’t simply have a Huntsman unlock it for them.

So how do we rectify this?

What if having an unlocked Aura made a person more likely to attract Grimm? We already know that Grimm track people primarily through detecting negatively-valenced emotions and the presence of nearby souls. If we wanted to give Aura’s aesthetic appearance some more significance beyond simply being cool to look at, what if Grimm can sense that emanation? If a person with a locked Aura is akin to a matchstick, then what if a person with an unlocked Aura looked like a bonfire by comparison? The very tool used to fight Grimm has the drawback of also attracting Grimm, or worse, causing Grimm to prioritize you as a target.

Not only would this give us an answer for why the entire world doesn’t unlock their Auras, but it opens the floodgates for lore and worldbuilding ideas: If unlocked Auras can attract Grimm (even when not in use), do governments have an incentive to regulate how many of its citizens have unlocked Auras? Are only certain members of the population allowed to unlock their Auras, like Huntsmen or soldiers? What happens if you accidentally unlock your Aura? Would the government force you to pay a tax, or make you choose between conscription into either the military or a Huntsman Academy? There’s an entire afternoon’s worth of ethical debates right there.

But let’s say that unlocking your Aura doesn’t attract Grimm, in which case, maybe there’s some sort of societal stigma against it. What if you’re afraid of unlocking your Aura because that means, by extension, opening up the possibility of discovering your Semblance? What if you’re afraid of getting a passive Semblance that causes misfortune? What if you gain a pyrokinetic Semblance that’s hard to control, and without training you run the risk of hurting yourself or others?

We can even take this a step further if we consider how Aura and Semblances can be abused by others. What if at some point in history there was a monarch that would forcibly unlock their citizens’ Auras and force them to serve in their army? Skip forward several generations and picture a well-meaning Huntsman passing through a village. They stop to chat with the locals, and an inquisitive child comes up to them and asks about what it’s like being a Huntsman and having an unlocked Aura. The Huntsman, unaware of the history of the region, offers to unlock the child’s Aura for them. Cue the parents and nearby townsfolk panicking as their thoughts immediately go toward the tyrannical monarch from long ago, and the number of child soldiers forced to bleed for that king.

If we wanted to make Aura inconvenient, we could even introduce Aura- and Semblance-specific diseases transmitted via Grimm. Take a moment to imagine what it would be like if you lived in a world where you never had to worry about getting the flu, as long as you refrained from doing one specific thing. How’s that for an incentive? Now apply that to RWBY, and suddenly there’s a whole list of Grimm-based illnesses that you’re automatically immune to as long as you don’t unlock your Aura.

The possibilities are endless.

With a little creativity it wouldn’t be hard to give realistic, in-world answers for why unlocked Auras aren’t more prevalent: everything from mechanical drawbacks, limitations, weaknesses, risk factors, cultural taboos, stigmas, you name it.

I wanted to complain more about the vagueness of Aura’s healing factor and how it relates to Aura depletion—like how the hell Hazel stabbed himself with Dust crystals while his Aura was still active; wouldn’t the healing factor have caused them to just shoot out of his arms like magical splinters?—but this post is getting long, and I want to wrap things up. I think I’ve made my point.

Join me next time when I put another one of RWBY’s core concepts on the chopping block.

-

[1] Hello Future Me. “On Writing: hard magic systems in fantasy [ Avatar l Fullmetal Alchemist l Mistborn ]” YouTube video.  February 07, 2018. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMJQb5bGu_g&list=WL&index=351&t=0s]

[2] Shawcross, Kerry. “CRWBY AMA.” Reddit interview. February 12, 2018. [https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/7x3w4s/crwby_ama_w_miles_luna_kerry_shawcross_and_paula/du5bpdm/?context=3]

[3] Volume 4, Episode 9: “Two Steps Forward, Two Steps Back.”

[icechipsx]

The Golden Dagger | Prologue

Read at FF.net.

Summary: When the princess in the tower flees and a mysterious object is causing great havoc among the Mysthallery community, it’s up to the whole puzzle family to sort this out, except they have an exconvict with them and a troubling figure looming over them. Who could be behind all of this? [Post-UF]

Rating: T, for mild swearing and mention of violence in later chapters.

Author’s note: I’m so excited to be finally giving a little bit of shape to this story I’ve had going on in my head for a while, be a little patient though, it may take a while to complete. Just have a little prologue, with some Flora plotting. It’s a prologue, a short one, so don’t expect great argument chunks being revealed already xD. By the way 

Flora liked to consider herself a good woman. Despite her faults as a human being, those faults no one could ever change no matter how much somebody tried to. To her, somebody could only change a certain percent of themselves, and that was it. Sometimes, it was enough – sometimes, it just plain wasn’t.

The young heiress knew very well the thin line between being stupid and being forgiving. Sometimes, the limits were blurred in tears, confusion, or utter disappointment. She had faced these very situations where she was either terribly concerned about other people, others, scarcely often, beyond pissed. However, Flora usually found herself being pitifully disappointed.

People, usually. Like, it was usually people who disappointed her, made her build fake illusions and impressions. Growing up with those backstabbing deceits and insecurities made her very aware of her surroundings, of the people who were around her, and that some people could – betraying what she thought before – hold ill intentions. Being brought up in a tall tower had its inconveniences. Yes, it had good views on a lush landscape, and was incredibly good to avoid pestering tourism concerning a heiress.

No matter the good intentions of her father, she had been so alone. She had grown in a place so close to thunderstorms, and so isolated, yet supposed to believe she had company and that she couldn’t meet the outside world. She was terrified: terrified of the outside world, terrified of meeting new people when all she had had was Bruno and howling winds during breezy nights.

Being held in the top of a tower was deceiving, and not ideal if you asked her. But ask her: she possibly wouldn’t have had it any other way. Had she been a commoner, the Professor wouldn’t be there with her-

Ah, well, he currently isn’t with her. He wasn’t with her very often, neither was he now for that matter. Flora, age 22 and a blooming flower sometimes felt like, despite having moved miles away from her home, felt like her ache and solace hadn’t moved an inch from the bleak home of her tower. Almost ten years had passed ever since she had been driven away from the robotic village, yet her dainty stance in life hadn’t changed. She was still weak as she was right then, still passive and hidden in a massive crowd.

So there she was, reading that goddamn letter again with a single candle as her companion, long past sunset. She looked at the sentences pointedly, as if trying to decipher a hidden message, any puzzle to comprehend the meaning or reason behind the letter. Flora grasped the sheet tight, frowning. Had it all come to this?

The girl ran a hand through her face and sighed in frustration. Things would never change if she didn’t- if she just didn’t-

“Flora?”

The mentioned hummed absent-mindedly, still staring at the paper in her hand as if it held her whole life. Her expression turned grim when she saw the undesired face of an offender staring at her through the window in front of her. Well, he was not an offender, but he clearly was the closest thing to one. His antics were clearly not sane and someone, just someone had to explain that barging into her bedroom through the window was not the way to go on life.

She got up from her chair, which scraped the ground, titled and fell. She sure wasn’t having none of his antics today, not with serious matters going through her head. The door flew open and there he stood, trench coat on and that scar on his forehead barely visible.

“Clive, what the actual-“

“Language, Flora.” He breezed through the doorstep and rearranged his shirt. It was slightly wrinkled. “I reckon the Professor taught you better words to greet a guest.”

She was sure he referred to Hershel as Professor either out of respect or just to mock her. And yes, it wasn’t in her to swear, but yes, she wasn’t having the best of days. Unneeded thoughts were rattling her head endlessly and Clive was not going to help. He never helped unless it was with terrorism and general havoc. Flora would never think otherwise. She still held her kind nature towards him, since being snarky and moody to him wouldn’t help the situation.

However, he clearly didn’t give a damn about her so she wasn’t really to blame if Clive came across as a narcissistic ex-convict who had redeemed, sure, but still had a long way to go. Specially with her.

“First of, you’re not a guest, there was no previous warning of you coming by.” Which was fancy talk for: ‘I don’t want you here, but I’ll put up with it’. Flora put the letter back on its envelop. “And secondly, whatever business you have with the Professor shall wait, he’s out in one of his business he never tells me about.”

Clive rose an eyebrow. “I see.”

If he was trying to play obvious or was being as emotionally dumb as usual, she didn’t know. What was clear to her was that him being there or even existing in the same place as her drained her energy, so she cut to the chase.

“Clive, what is it that you need?”

He tugged at his collar. Flora welcomed the gesture, she was uncomfortable as well. “I was hoping to take you for a walk.”

Flora gave no meaningful reaction and minded her own business taking imaginary dust from nearby books, acting as meek as usual when the unexpected happened. “Take me for a walk?” she sounded genuinely surprised for the first time.

“Well, yes.”

Both looked out the window simultaneously and reached the same conclusion.

“It’s dark, and it’s raining cats and dogs outside, though.”

“I’m aware.”

There was something behind his eyes that made her hold her breath and remember that he wasn’t kind, honest, trustworthy – despite what Hershel said in the end, or mildly friendly. She had kind of forced herself to believe that after he had kidnapped her, had become another one of her kidnappers who took her to spit on the Professor, as if she was an object or a damsel on distress. She was oh, so tired of that.

And Clive had dared to tie bonds with her even when he sure had planned taking her away on the first place. He would always remain as a douche despite him forcing himself to spend time with her, like he intended to do now.

She just withdrew the fight. They weren’t on good terms, but that didn’t give her the right to be a pain to him. She wanted to change things, but had no hope on him wanting to. She would never be worth apologizing to, it seems. Nobody ever did, anyway. Not the Professor most of the times, nor Luke, Paolo, and sure not Clive, either.

It was so sad.

“We should go before the weather worsens.” stated she in a rather stale manner, but it was a good sign. “Let’s stay close the neighborhood anyway, just in case the rain gets heavier.”

Clive courtly nodded, dazed by the fact that she had stopped being so stubborn on rejecting him and was starting to give the charade up, even if it was for an hour or so. He opened the door for her, grabbed one of her jackets quickly and went on ahead, handing the piece of clothing to her.

The climate wasn’t exactly cold, and she was wearing that smooth cream turtleneck which was a bit too warm for that temperature. However, Clive had noted, she was a bit sensitive to cold, so she always wore warm clothing despite it being not so cold. She was always stuffed in jerseys and coats.

However, as they walked along the Thames in the middle of a night drizzle, he noticed how her complexion was slightly hunched over and she gripped her hands a bit tighter than usual. He was a bit too prone to looking into those little details that gave people away. Watching her dwelling on her inner turmoil, focused on a faraway trail of thought that he couldn’t comprehend right now; it set on all his alarms: something was off with her.

And yes, she wasn’t usually that expressive, keeping herself to herself and appearing naïve and passive. In the past, her feelings had taken refuge on her mind, never spoken out loud or physically expressed for that matter. Her torment must be pretty damn huge if she’s being so silent but loud about it.

Flora suddenly stopped in her tracks. Clive walked a few steps forward before stopping and glancing behind him. Confusion was evident in his eyes.

“Clive.” she spoke his name, no venom but utmost care and fragility were evident in her voice. “Do you think I’m a burden?”

He turned and approached her, something akin to concern almost visible in his dark irises. She didn’t even spare a glance up, focusing on the wet pavement under her feet. She did look up shortly after though, just after she had found courage to look at him without wavering. “Do you think I’m left behind… because I’m useless?”

The way she whispered that sentence spoke volumes to him. That thought must have been in her head for a while if she was so unsure about it, so distraught and seemingly peachy. This was a weak spot for her, and the fact that she was asking him moved him. He could go and shatter her heart, make a run for it and forget about her existence based on what she thought about him— but she actually asked him despite the emotional risk. Her concerns must be above all those judgements, then.

Clive cleared his throat and tried to muster all the care he could in his eyes to cheer her up. He was increasingly uncomfortable with her silence and grey aura. “I think the Professor does not really considerate whether you are useful to him or his investigations, but looks after you by hiding you from his investigations.”

“Yes, I-I know.” her eyes were cast down again, shadowing her irises. “But why did he always bring Luke along then? Why would he actually do so when he’s younger and…?”

Dead silent. She just trailed off after that. The age argument was solid enough for her, and for Clive as well. He was still damn sure that the Professor would never think so low of Flora, somebody he thinks of as a daughter and holds deep care for, to leave her behind just because she isn’t useful to him. Of course Hershel Layton wouldn’t do such a thing to Flora. It would be much more to be expected from Clive– actually, he kinda did that years ago to her in his fortress, but it was a different situation, different reasons and something he regretted doing.

But why was Flora being so insecure about it? Wasn’t it logical to think that your prosthetic father was just caring for you in a fatherly way? What kind of petty insecurity had gotten into her to make her worked up about it? Clive had so many questions to ask her, but it wasn’t his place to ask.

It wasn’t his business to dig into it when she was still rejecting all his advances, and mostly when he didn’t know her well enough to know if this was just a little fish nibbling her heart or there was something bigger than that behind it. However, it struck him as weird to see her giving it so much thought when it didn’t seem to bother her that much anymore lately.

Something had clicked on her. And he didn’t like it one bit.

Flora mustered up a smile, quivering. “It’s alright.” It didn’t seem to be. “I was just… wondering, that’s all.”

How dare she smile when she seemed so torn a few moments ago? How could she build her walls around her so quickly so he wouldn’t peek and see what was going on? It was unnerving to see her rejecting his intents to make up whenever they had the opportunity and he just wished she’d stop being so scornful and realize he wants to be friends, or at least be at ease with each other. Why can’t she forgive him like everyone else had instead of being so closed off?

He stopped toying with the subject so he wouldn’t carry a headache home along with his disappointment. This wasn’t how the walk was supposed to unfold. And yet again, there was something nagging at him, whispering that something bigger than that was bothering her. He couldn’t help but be earnestly worried about it.

“Clive?”

She stopped walking when he didn’t follow her. The boy snapped out of his troubling reverie and caught up with her. “Are you sure you are fine?”

Her nod was enthusiastic and apparently honest. “Yes! Don’t give it much thought, please. It was just a little thought I was rolling today, but I’m fine now!”

Somehow, despite seeing her so shiny and easy, her sudden glee seemed hollow and mildly faked at best. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with her. Clive was keen on overthinking stuff and being paranoid about basically every detail in his life – like that time he found out an ant in his apartment and thought it was a plague. That being said, he was usually right on his statements, but this time, he let it pass. If Flora wasn’t going to spill the beans, he wouldn’t bother to even try.

He had done enough to show he was there for her, whatever she decided to do with that was her problem, not his. And clearly today wasn’t the ideal day for bonding, so he just called it a day and took her home. He wished her a good night and left quickly, hearing the door shut and click not long after.

Flora took off her coat and sighed. They had been out for not even half  an hour and her mind felt as if she had been through hell and back. Her torment was still there, even after basically weeping in front of Clive. She still felt lonely, weak, and most importantly, clueless as to what to do.

She glanced at the envelope and frowned. If the world wasn’t going to move for her, if the tower wouldn’t come crashing down on her, then she’d have to do something about it. With a swift movement, she took the envelope, letter inside, and the flame that dimly illuminated the room faded away.

[nehasy]

Empty Fate

Escaflowne week 2017!!  Day 6 -Future (post tv series)

This is part of my Dragon in the Ashes universe on AO3, it’s a snippet taken from the first two week of the story, doesn’t really matter when in particular.  As an aside, Dilandau calls Gaddes “Fanelian” as an insult towards his mixed parentage.

Warning for thoughts of suicide and foul language

               “Do you ever think about the future?”  Gaddes asked as the two of them lay on the roof of the Crusade, staring up at the stars twinkling overhead, a half full bottle of wine between them. The night was so still and beautiful, the metal hull still warm from an afternoon of continuous sun.  Off to their left, they could hear the rest of the crew enjoying themselves at a nearby tavern while Allen no doubt was working late trying to sort through reports from the villages reeve.  

               “The future?  Are you drunk Fanelian?”  A pale hand reached out and snagged the bottle, bringing it to equally pale lips. Several long sips put an admirable dent in the vino before it was returned to its place.

               “No I’m not drunk you alcoholic brat.  I’m trying to have a normal conversation with you.  You know, using words that aren’t threats or screams for more bloodshed. You might not be familiar with the concept.”

               “Hmph, sounds boring.  Are you sure I can’t just push you over the side?”

               “The Boss would never forgive you.”

               “So that’s a point in its favour.  You’re not really selling me on the preservation of your life.  I mean seriously, you didn’t even bring glasses with you.  I hate drinking wine like a barbarian.”  Dilandau huffed softly, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the sky, idly tracing the patterns found in the stars, noting how the constellations were all in the wrong position compared to their placement when in Zaibach. It was yet another thing that didn’t fit properly since waking up to this living nightmare of a world gone wrong.

               “So are you going to answer my question?”  Gaddes prodded, glancing over to look at the pale slender youth laying next to him, marvelling for a moment at how he seemed to actually glow in the silvery moonlight.

               “I thought it was obvious that I was avoiding it.  You’re not exactly the brightest member of this crew are you?” Pale lips twisted into a smirk as crimson eyes shifted, focussing on the darker crewman, openly teasing and daring him to retaliate.

               “And you’re a shining bastion of Zaibach brilliance Mr. Burn it all to the ground and then torture the ashes for information?”

               “I never claimed to be subtle.  That was Folken’s thing.”  Dilandau snagged the wine bottle again, tipping it back and taking another long sip. “Fucking traitor.”  He grumbled softly to himself, debating for a moment on whether to put the bottle down or not.  In the end, he decided to keep holding it.  He was done sharing, even if Gaddes had been the one to bring it… and its predecessor.  

               Still, those dark grey eyes stared at him irritatingly, urging him to continue speaking.  As if sharing such stupid pointless thoughts might create some sort of bond between them, thereby preventing him from slitting their throats in their sleep. Astorians, they were so hung up on the idea of chivalry, honour and fair play.  They really had no understanding of how the world worked.  It was disgusting really to think that if it hadn’t been for the Madoushi and their sick experiments, he’d be numbered among them.

               A glance to the side showed him that the man was still staring expectantly like an abandoned puppy, hoping that sheer charisma and patheticness would allow him to get his way.  Showed what he knew.  If Dilandau could resist Shesta and his huge guileless blue eyes, he could ignore this man’s.

               “Hitomi used to tell the future.”  Gaddes continued, acting utterly oblivious to the albino’s reluctance along this conversational vein.  “She had these cards that she’d read.  I’ve never seen anyone as accurate as she was, though there was always the chance that she’d get a Vision.  Those were almost never good.”  Storm grey eyes glanced over in the direction of the Dragonslayer who was doing his best to ignore the sound of his voice.  

               “Granted, most of the time that was because of your crazy ass stomping around, burning cities to ash and slaughtering everything that moved.”

               “Yeah… good times.”  Dilandau allowed himself a soft chuckle.  “Whatever happened to the bitch?  Last I saw her, she was clinging to that demon king from Fanelia like a discount harlot.”

               “Firstly, don’t call her that.  She’s an amazing person.  Secondly, she wasn’t a harlot, discounted or otherwise… and how would you know what one looked like?”

               “I’m not nearly drunk enough to tell you that story.”

               “Fine, then I’ll keep talking.  Hitomi didn’t like to tell the future, she said that every time she did it, she was altering the fate of Gaea or something to that effect.  I suppose that’s why she left in the end.  She didn’t want to be like Dornkirk and force her own vision of Destiny on the world.  But, before all of that, she’d do readings for the crew.”

               Dilandau glanced over, curious despite himself.  He couldn’t fathom why anyone would ever turn away from that much power.  If he’d been able to alter the fate of the world around him, he’d have done so much with it… changed so much.  His beautiful Dragonslayers would have still been alive… Miguel would have still been at his side and that damn Van would have been crushed beneath the heel of his Alseides.

               Why was great power always given to those too cowardly and soft to make proper use of it?  This girl had shared the same power as the all-powerful Emperor but had run from it.  Folken had been one of the most trusted and powerful men in Zaibach, but he’d turned traitor, running to hide behind Astoria’s skirts because he couldn’t handle a few people dying in the name of greater glory. It was sickening really.  Even that bastard Van had chosen to put aside his demon armour and return to rebuilding that dirt ball of a country rather than use his power to take over the crippled Allied armies.  It was as if everyone had collectively lost their spines.

               “She said that I’d fall in love with the heart of the dragon.”  Gaddes continued on, oblivious to Dilandau’s darker turn of thought.  “That it would bestow upon me the greatest gift of in all of Gaea, but only after I’d lost it.”

               “Wow… and I thought The future is obscured by the shadow of a dragon was vague.  I’m assuming of course that you’re not sexually attracted to actual dragons.   Feel free not to correct me of this, because I share a cabin with you and I’d rather not know that you’re beating off to visions of big scaly lizards.”

               “Oh ha ha.  So says the guy who ran around with a homicidal harem.”

               “Insult my Dragonslayers and I’ll slit your throat Fanelian.”

               “Hey, you’re the one who mentioned that you knew some of them rather more than professionally.”

               “True, but that doesn’t mean you can mock them about it.”  Dilandau took another sip of his drink, emptying the bottle. Sighing softly in annoyance, he upended the bottle and shook it a few times, trying to get the last few drops before giving it up as a lost cause.   “I don’t suppose you brought a third bottle up with you?”

               It was an empty hope.  He could see that the crewman’s hands were now empty.  Worse, the man still looked like he wanted to talk.  Maybe rolling over the edge of the ship wasn’t such a bad way to go after all?  Death might be less irritating than this.  No, it was still too undignified a way for a warrior like him to die. Dammit.

               “So, other than your rather perverse destiny of sharing your bed with a fire breathing lizard, was there anything else in your future?  Spawnlings perhaps?  How about fame and fortune?”  He didn’t really care, but remembered that once Gatti had told him that these sorts of questions were important to ask when someone spoke about their future hopes and dreams.

               “Not really, I got all worked up over the whole loving a dragon thing and she got into a snit, packed up her cards and stomped out of the room.”

               “Hmph, what the hell did Allen ever see in her?”

               “Please, let’s not go there with the whole jealousy thing.”  Gaddes groaned, rubbing his temples.  “It’s creepy on more levels than I want to even think about.”

               “I’m not jealous.”

               “Course not.  So, will you tell me your future thoughts?”  The crewman pressed relentlessly, earning himself another soft grumble from the young captain followed by a dark glare.

               “Fine.  You want to hear about my future?  My future is likely going to involve being either beheaded by the Astorians if they ever find out I’m alive, I’m not sure I even want to know what Van would come up with to execute me for my crimes against Fanelia.  That is of course if the Madoushi don’t get to me first.  If that’s the case, I expect that I’ll be cut up into little pieces for them to study during which I may or may not be alive. On the other hand, my dear brother is only keeping me around in the faint hope of getting his precious Celena back and if that happens, then my future consists of me becoming some stupid vapid living doll who will be sold off to some fat old nobleman in order to make empty headed Astorian babies.”  Dilandau spat out viciously, his voice dripping with venom.

               “You don’t get it do you Fanelian?  I don’t have a future.  I wasn’t supposed to even exist.  I’m nothing but a lab experiment that slipped its leash.  All of this…”  He waved his hand around them both, his movements sharp and full of anger.  “This is temporary for me.  My world, my friends, my country and my glorious destiny are gone.  I have nothing.  No future, no real past… nothing.  So leave me alone and let me contemplate my nothingness in peace.”

               Gaddes was taken aback by the pain in those words as well as the cruel hard truths behind them.  It was impossible to imagine what the pale teenager was going through, how isolated he must feel despite the attempts of the crew to integrate him into their team.   Still, he knew that he couldn’t leave him alone, especially after tearing open so many obvious wounds in the kid’s heart.  Allen would never forgive him if the brat decided to take a final plunge over the side of the ship.

               “Build yourself a new life then.”  He murmured softly, his voice sounding almost apologetic.  “New life, new destiny, new future.”

               “All of Gaea wants my head on a pike Fanelian.”  Dilandau scoffed in dark amusement.  “I doubt that my explaining to them that I’m only wanting a fresh start will mollify all the people whose families I slaughtered.  More importantly, I don’t want to change.  I like fighting, I love hearing their screams as they run from my fire.  It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

               Now it was Gaddes’ turn to look disgusted as he flashed the albino a heated glare, remembering the countless friends who’d fallen to this little monster during the war.  How his own home had burned while the little demon had laughed in delight.

               “One thing Hitomi said that stuck with all of us is that we all have the power within ourselves to make our own destinies.  We can choose our own fates, but how others see us can affect it as well.  If you only present yourself as a monster then that’s how people will see you.  The longer you keep it up, the more of a monster you’ll become, and soon there will be nothing left but that.”

               For a long moment there was nothing but heavy silence between them, broken only by the distant hooting of a hunting owl.

               “Good.”  Dilandau finally spoke, his voice soft and almost wistful in its tone.  “Once there’s nothing left of me but the monster, do you think I won’t hear them screaming for me to save them?”  For once, Gaddes didn’t have an answer.  

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