Anathema.

FE10 Zelgius, Knight of Seiros at the Officer's Academy. Loved by Mar.

[annularity]

🍪 + 4

Of all people, for his lord sage to approach him with this game, Zelgius is obligated to comply. Not for any sense of duty, really; but out of respect. As always, he will humor him. He will humor him no matter how many times it is asked of him.

"..."

He attaches himself, then waits for Sephiran to take the first bite. He bites second, a small portion, keeping to the pace his lord sage sets. In his mouth, he barely registers the sweet chocolate of the biscuit. As with many of his senses, his taste has dulled, relevant to his life no longer. His second bite is similarly uniform.

Their lips move quite close together. Zelgius bites again. It snaps.

"..."

As long as his lord sage is content.

[annularity]

2+🍪

Elena holds one of the chocolate covered biscuits out to the knight. "I've heard these are quite the treat." Her expression softens as she offers the chocolate end out to him.

"I think you'd quite like it."

"Do not raise your hopes. It's just a game."

Nevertheless, Zelgius leans down and accepts the biscuit in his mouth. It's hard to refuse anything from the cleric's kind eyes, even before knowing she is his old master's love. Practically hunched in half, he manages to keep himself still enough to maintain the fragile biscuit balance. The game's purpose is clearly lost on the chivalric soldier, as he soon snaps himself away, cracking the cookie and taking a majority for himself.

And, unfortunately, a victory is still a victory. It's not quite the same rush as killing a worthy foe, but his heart can't help but swell with some pride. He straightens up, then looks down on Elena impassively. The biscuit still protrudes from his mouth, a bizarre toothpick to complement his imposing armor.

"Perhaps I misjudged it. I did not hate it."

[annularity]

🍪 + 4

Zelgius steps forward to receive the knight's contest. His armor clanks loudly, each heavy footstep shaking loose cobblestones as he walks. His eyes narrow at the lancer.

Not a word, as he sets himself upon the other end of the cookie. Not a word, when it snaps quickly, Zelgius taking a large majority of the stick, leaving Finn with a short butt. And especially not a word, as Zelgius steps back, spitting the cookie from his mouth onto the kempt grass beside them.

[loveevangelist]

✧˖°ℙ𝕆ℂ𝕂𝕐 𝔾𝔸𝕄𝔼

The Pocky Game is a game played with two people and one biscuit stick. Each end of the treat in a mouth, inches separating you and the other. Make it to the center first and you win, break the stick and you lose. Meeting in the middle? Well, it's up to the participants to decide what that is.

Roll a d6. Send the result +🍪or [cookie] to challenge my muse at the Pocky Game. The number you rolled is the number my muse must roll above to beat your muse at the Pocky Game. If they tie, they meet in the middle. **By default, the sender is the initiator. Include 🍫 or [chocolate] to have my muse initiate instead.

[annularity]

And it kinda looks just like you mixed with Zach Galifianakis

Elena -&- Zelgius

[ordered-heart]

Elena can't see this man as the sort to exaggerate so much. The clipped nature of his words and the severity of them sit within her chest heavily. "That tragedy... no one man could have prevented that." If anyone had been responsible, it was her.

The sincerity in his eyes is returned by crystalline blues. As he towers over her, she does not falter even as her heart threatens to beat free from her chest.

When he kneels, awe fills her.

"I need only your word, sir." Even knelt the man still nearly meets her height. "You are not a sword alone. I cannot give your life meaning, only help you in finding that meaning for yourself."

"You've endured much, haven't you?" Her hand reaches out to touch his shoulder before she kneels down before him as well. "Our lives now aren't meant to dwell on the past."

[annularity]

It does his heart a great favor, these words. He wants to look down upon her in disbelief, to heed nothing but his lord's rhetoric and values, to feel nothing from a soothing voice with words even more soothing still. It is as if his soul has once more settled firmly to the ground, residing not in his armor, but in his body proper. With new clarity, his lips part to speak, but...

Zelgius just remains quietly seated before her. Speechless.

"Even so," he says slowly, "you must have your regrets. Our battles are in the past, but our memories are ever changing to rewrite them." Surely, she means to already be moving forward, herself. Realization dawns on him, and his next words are presented with revelatory certainty.

"You have already accepted everything that was in Tellius? Now that all has been said, you can relinquish your grip on things so readily?" But saying it aloud, Zelgius already knows: it must be true. It is no wonder that Gawain had fallen for her.

[radiantpaths]

petty revenge

From here

[radiantpaths]

"You don't want to cause us more grief? Then you should have stayed dead."

Zelgius doesn't get his sword. He stands there as if Ike won't cut him down in an instant. Zelgius is right; he won't. Why fight a man who won't fight? It's unfair. There's a difference between jumping a man, and a man who will only defend himself.

His only defence is his words, a place where Ike is at a disadvantage. He wants to use a weapon he knows, but he can't.

"I saw everything. I know what you did." What he is. It doesn't matter to Ike, and he won't say it, but he knows what he is in part to understand why. Ike still doesn't understand why. "You nearly destroyed the world. You destroyed my world. Because of you and Sephiran, I don't remember half of my life."

Ike takes a slow breath. "Because of you, my parents died."

It doesn't matter that Griel is alive. It doesn't change the fact that his death changed everything for Ike.

"Why? Because he told you to?" His words are low, dangerous. "You'd really destroy everything for someone like that?"

Ike steps closer. "Do you even care about what you've done?"

[annularity]

Zelgius's cold demeanor sinks into his shadow, and his lip turns up in a snarl. "Do not mistake my words, boy," he starts, a heavy step pressing forward. Ike is tall, but Zelgius is taller still, and he makes mere inches of difference feel like miles.

"I know full well the weight of my deeds, but the tragedy that took your mother was not due to anything on my part. Your father's hand was forced, but not by me. My lord's magic was made in a gesture of healing. I have long since blamed myself for the shattering of that peace in Daein, but no longer."

He leaves a pause after his words, and his jaw shifts, as if there is more he would say; the moment finishes, though, and Zelgius's prickly hide settles back down to the someber mountain he is.

"You cannot change this," he says simply.

[annularity]

And it kinda looks just like you mixed with Zach Galifianakis

Elena -&- Zelgius

[ordered-heart]

"Too many living walk among us for that to be the case," she's quick to reply. He hand touches gently to her shoulder. "Maybe your time here is meant to find someone else to teach or impart what you know to others broadly."

She wants to hope for the best. Elena takes another step forward. If Ike had killed him, she can't imagine it was without reason, certainly her son wouldn't do such a thing lightly.

"Maybe there's something you must atone for that the Goddess has given you another chance for. I'd like to think, she wants to see us do well where we before we couldn't."

[annularity]

"I have lived my life in repentance," he cuts back. Emotion threatens to bristle forth from beneath the man's armor, beneath the man's skin, but it's suppressed under the blanket of years. "I have lived many lifetimes, as part of my penance."

This time, he finds uneasy but steady eye contact with the cleric. He does not shout, but his words fly at high velocity. "I couldn't ward tragedy from taking your life, and disrupting the fragile serenity of my satisfaction." His hackles fall, and the once tense atmosphere dullens.

"I don't have any more to give than my sword."

He leans dangerously forward, the tower of a man threatening to tip over. His shadow looms over Elena.

"And I give it freely, here."

Now, he kneels before her.

"I give it to you, and I give you my word."

[annularity]

Let's Smush Grogu in the Usu

Pelleas -&- Zelgius

[pirrhyc]

    No matter how much physical skill, dexterity, and strength Pelleas has built up in his time studying at Garreg Mach, it means little when the person he's working with SOMEHOW DESTROYS THE TOOL HE'S WORKING WITH.

Not only was his mallet destroyed, but after that, so soon did his hand feel crushed beyond belief and the rice dough feels tainted. Zelgius's medical care does little to soothe Pelleas's anxiety on the matter, the man a stone wall of sheer intimidation somehow even when tending to an injury.

The mochi pounding was meant to be harmless. Pelleas, in his vulnerable state, starts wondering if Zelgius will somehow find a way to tie the bandages too tight and cut off all circulation entirely. Maybe it'll somehow devolve to the point of treating his poor hand like a sausage link, turning and turning until it's impossibly split in twain.

It doesn't sound realistic, but if there was anyone who could do it, Zelgius probably could find a way.

He considers it a miracle none of his far-fetched, worst nightmares come true, and although he has been trying to stifle the pain and any whimpers he might have because of them through the whole process, his eyes bug out, utterly taken aback by Zelgius's follow-up comment.

“What?!”  he cries out.  “General Zelgius, I understand I could have been faster, yes, but... a-are you not also at fault?! Could you not stand to be more careful too?”

[annularity]

He finishes tying the bandage, tucking it securely into the fold. Pelleas's blood drips from his gauntlets. Zelgius calmly looks around for a towel, would that his performance be like any other worker around them. His steps are thunderous despite the room's noise, rattling a set of nearby shelves. His armor cleaned, he pivots, staring back down at Pelleas.

"I moved at the necessary speed. You must keep up, or my hammer will overtake you again." He states it as a fact, as if there is truly nothing stopping Pelleas from keeping pace. Zelgius adjusts his chestplace before returning to his side.

He regards the injury like some sort of fallen animal, dettached from Pelleas's responsibility. Maybe the knight shrugs; it's hard to tell in his mountain of armor. (His cold eyes seem to shrug for him anyway.) "As for your wound, you have my apologies. I am flexible in my attire; perhaps your clothing has impeded your agility."

Is this a joke? His stiff jaw would certainly say otherwise, but before his face can be studied, he steps a pace or two away to grab the mallet again.

[annularity]

Let's Smush Grogu in the Usu

Pelleas -&- Zelgius

[pirrhyc]

    “Er, yes, yes it is...”  Pelleas watches the man next to him chew and swallow, finding it quite surreal to be in such a position to be sitting nearby. He's not sure if his response really mattered, his own presence always feeling quite lesser in comparison to such a legendary knight as Zelgius.

Zelgius. To think even he had made it out... but, of course, after watching the man perform miracles before, maybe this was what he should have expected...

Pelleas is still trying to figure out what to consider of the whole situation when the raven-haired man actually directly addresses him this time, getting them onto the business they had volunteered for in the first place without further delay.

“Oh, um! The staff asked us to make ten sets. They'd ideally like more, but they didn't want us to get in trouble with anything else we needed to get to after this... but demand is also high.”  Zelgius's alarming normalcy on the surface of things lulls Pelleas to follow suit as he awkwardly tries to regurgitate all he had been told before the knight had shown up.

But wait.

“Y-You want me to use the mallet?”  comes his blank surprise.  “Are you sure? It's not that I can't, as I certainly could, but given what you know of me, I would have thought... Do you not have a low opinion of my physical strength? Especially compared to yours!”

[annularity]

"Even a king must do his part."

What matter was it that Pelleas was weaker? Zelgius would no sooner succeed in politics. All people had a strength, and a weakness; that did not exempt them from duty. It is not as if there were any danger, either. The pair are to make dumplings.

Anyhow, he would not be taking "no" for an answer. Not at this time, and not ever.

Zelgius steps up to the mortar, swinging the lopsided mallet to his shoulder. Hopefully, this could at least be a good workout.

▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲▲

One accident later, and Pelleas's pulverized purple palm bleeds color into the wooden world. Really, it was some miracle how he was alive; Zelgius's swing cut heavy, destroying Pelleas's mallet, then ricocheting to his chin and arm.

The rice dough is stained beneath them. That will need to be removed and cleaned too, no doubt.

Even as he wraps another bandage across the wound, Zelgius does not offer any sort of apology. Injuries happen. Mistakes, too. Just, not to him.

He sighs, and frowns. "Perhaps you ought to be more careful." Surely, now they could continue.

[annularity]

Your absence is like the deep grief of war

Sephiran -&- Zelgius

[thelightofcreation]

Hands reach down to the edges of metal, cold and unwelcoming, as Sephiran knows he cannot truly help the man stand. Fingers ghost the edge of armor, finding the metal cold.

He wants this loyalty, needs it- as much as someone whose injuries had already healed still worries the bandage and wraps it once more. To indulge in a protection that he no longer deserves.

“Come inside,” And it is as much of a plea as an invitation, as warm as it is desperate- but even that, a mix of emotion that he could not give name to, is coated in his tell-tale serenity. “Come inside, first. Sit down.”

Suddenly solitude was all the more daunting.

[annularity]

Of course, Zelgius obliges, ducking his head to step into the doorway. It is a quiet comfort, their company; he feels as if he has missed nothing in the months between their togetherness.

Though he cannot feel his lord's hands on his body, there is phantom feeling at his touch. It is the same sort of touch that he sought out back in Daein, a comforting feeling where Zelgius has never known comfort.

Despite his size, the mountain clambers into a seat, with some difficulty. Claws grapple with wooden upholstry, and come to an uneasy alliance as they return to the armor. In the small space, Zelgius's hair seems to shed charcoal, darkening the air around him.

His eyes dart around the modest abode. His heavy brow is set, unmoving. "... You are content?" Here, in Fodlan.

Here, without the old gods.

Here, without me.

[annularity]

And it kinda looks just like you mixed with Zach Galifianakis

Elena -&- Zelgius

[ordered-heart]

She met his eyes resolutely. If he would be so clear, she would not shy from the truth.

He was a stranger for all it mattered but his life as laid out seemed so very twisted within what would've been her own.

Her heart flutters then stills. Daein... she nods at his assertion. It was natural, she thinks, and hardly uncommon to hear.

"I do." Ike had done it... but for Ike to have done it...

"How long after?" She takes an ill fated step forward. "In the end, were you satisfied with the way things ended up?" Was she?

[annularity]

Of course she understands.

"It was a short while after I had slain him."

Beorc years hardly compared to that short wait. Zelgius had hoped beyond hope that Ike would grow, and sure enough, just a few years later, their rematch would prove him right. A few years, a few decades, it usually made no difference to Zelgius. Usually. For this wait, he had almost become impatient.

He would not call it a victory, either. No, his encounter with Gawain that night in Gallia had been nothing short of a slaughter. Gawain might as well have thrown down his axe himself. Disappointment still stained the corners of Zelgius's eyes, dark blues and blacks, as replayed the cutting action in his mind.

He would not curse himself, but if anything, it would be for this.

"I was satisfied with my end. I could not tell you why I am still here. Though, this could be an afterlife, for all I know."

There was no wonder in this tease. Whether this world was physical or not really didn't change his actions. "Ike surpassed me. There is nothing more I can yet teach to him."

[annularity]

Let's Smush Grogu in the Usu

Pelleas -&- Zelgius

[annularity]

@pirrhyc

"So it is a dumpling, then."

Having mulled the taste over in his mouth, he swallows heartily. A rice cake, but far from any sort of cake he has ever had. The bean paste within is reminiscent of jelly. It's soft, yet firm. Curious, but not fantastical. And, as it stands, quite tasty.

He tosses a glance to the mortar they are to start manning. It looks like any other, just wooden, he supposes. He turns back to the table, and sets his utensils down beside his coin purse.

"How many sets will we need to make?"

This time, he looks at Pelleas on the bench next to him. He doesn't bother sizing him up, at least; of course, Zelgius is familiar with the king of Daein. He walks not with the conviction of its Dawn Maiden, but he would look to him all the same.

At least, for making mochi.

"You will be able to lift the hammer, surely."

[annularity]

And it kinda looks just like you mixed with Zach Galifianakis

Elena -&- Zelgius

[ordered-heart]

That did nary to narrow down this man. It did have an effect however. She shifted, her lips pressed thin.

"You are glad for it then?" It was hard to find joy in that. Gawain... she shakes her head. "What of him? Few would call him as such." Did Ike and Mist still even refer to him by that name?

Reverence was too complicated a thing. What had he been driven to do in search of that? He too had fallen... then had Gawain?

"If it isn't trouble... tell me. How was it you met your end?"

[annularity]

So Ike has not told you, then.

There is more unspoken bite to his words, but Zelgius does not want to utter them. His death need not have any meaning for anyone but himself. Even those who knew him best, in life, would not have rejoiced in his victory in defeat. Surely, there is not anything more to want from a life he had thought for so long was devoid of meaning.

It mattered less now whether Elena deserved to know, than if Zelgius cared to retread upon it. He looks once more to her coldly, analyzing.

He arrives at his answer as the words leave his mouth.

"I had become consumed with challenging myself to the utmost strength." He keeps eye contact with each word.

"As a soldier of Daein, I learned that that strength was Gawain, and worked under him to learn everything I could. But, when I found him after..." He gestures to Elena. He sighs, shoulders sagging his armor. "He was no longer that same force to be reckoned with. Instead, it was your son who would inherit his skill, and in doing so, finish my quest."

Only now does he avert his eyes. "Do you know understand?"

[annularity]

Fart Girl Meets Shart Girl .

Lachesis -&- Zelgius (Axe+1)

[landsbluod]

The screech cut through the malaise not like a knife but like a saw, and the sharp raggedness of her breath stopped for a single heartbeat as her focus shifted, forward and out, seeking the threat. Rather than allow the light to flutter and extinguish, the canary in this mine, Lachesis grit her teeth and poured more of her heart in, to grant the world a little more clarity through the gloom.

Hold, he had said, and if it had been any normal man she would have gnashed at him, borne her teeth to let him know that there was a lion in his presence, but there was something of his manner, that calm certainty and the steely unwavering gaze, the unhurried and deliberate motion and the natural stillness, that called to mind a man who was in his element amongst the danger ahead.

She watched the lines of his shoulders tense, then ease, and took his hand for the next step downward, raising her other hand high above to better see.

The cavern was ancient, and larger than any space she had ever seen barring the vast emptiness of golden Aed, and the stink of it so subtle that it reminded her of a crypt, wet stone and loamy green, and the trace of something alive that still crept about.

"What on - "

The screech sheared through the mist again, followed by the buoyant sound of flapping, of claws scraping against stone, louder this time than it was before, although the size of the echo made it impossible to determine how close, or whither it was moving.

Towards them?

Lachesis grit her teeth. "Be on your guard," she said, moving around him to take the next step herself, plunging deeper into the dark. "It comes."

[annularity]

His first thought is that perhaps the lady is simply miming his steady demeanor.

Even he did not know just what lay buried in the mist, flapping, screaming. Any right fellow would brace themselves more defensively, he assumed, raising a shield, or running for cover. But never he, no, and not this lady either. Zelgius simply let the whistle of the wind do the talking.

He does turn to her, though. He looks to her eyes, shining brilliantly from her spell, and he gets the feeling that she would never run and hide. Her own stoicism is folly, he wants to say. Only the strong can earn such an attitude. What holds his tongue, despite everything, is her resemblance to his maiden. He remembers saying such things to Micaiah, and understanding after why those words fall on deaf ears. It takes much for anyone to remind him of her strength, however. Maybe they are alike, but maybe she just suffers from an overabundance of pride.

A large, winged beast breaks itself free from the fog, and tears towards them. In its talons it totes an oblong object, and it closes the distance far quicker than the pair can react. Zelgius does not blink; but, he no longer feels the need to extend an arm to the lady in warning. Alondite comes to his hand freely, as surely as a tightened knot, and he holds it flat-side in parry.

The stone lance shatters on his blade, blasting shards across Zelgius's face, cutting and slicing in a mini maelstrom. The wounds sting, and it his breath quickens, excited.

It feels good to bleed again.

As soon as the rubble stops, as soon as he can open his eyes, he lashes out with his sword. His blade catches on the beast's tail, and that too falls in chunks, this time littering the open void. It hovers above them now, only wings and a snarl remaining.

[annularity]

And it kinda looks just like you mixed with Zach Galifianakis

Elena -&- Zelgius

[ordered-heart]

"Is it so? I think the dead would be quite wary of one another. That we find ourselves back here in spite of everything..." Her hands fall to her side.

She's not fond of the implication even if she's aware of what sort of fate her dearest likely met. "I only know what I've heard, Sir Zelgius."

Elena can't help the curiosity that festers.

"It... hasn't been much. Few speak of him the way they do of Ike." Or even Mist for that matter. "Is it he you've the most business with?" That made much more sense to her. Still... to know and seemingly care so much?

What sort of regrets had this man come back into?

[annularity]

"Well then," he says, "I cannot help but be unbothered. If anything, this is a chance opportunity; after all, you were so important to Gawain, my old master."

Did Elena know of the fate that Gawain and himself had met? Surely not; but it was impossible for her not to have some idea. Zelgius did not worry much. It mattered not whether he was alive or dead, whether this woman knew him or not.

"Know that my reverence for him has not faded, now will ever. He is a great man."

[annularity]

Your absence is like the deep grief of war

Sephiran -&- Zelgius

[thelightofcreation]

It is a day like any other. A little overcast, Sephiran notes as he glances out towards the street, but no sign of rain. Which was a bit of a shame- he had heard some complain that it had been dry for a spell in town lately. Not enough to truly cause any issues, at least not yet, but enough for murmurs to arise.

It is a sign of peace, when the topic of discussion is merely the weather and nothing else.

A mundane morning blends into a mundane afternoon- he isn’t expecting anyone to visit today, as with many other days, and so he busies himself with simple tasks. A distraction from the silence that had slowly encroached over all aspects of his life, filling it- or perhaps more accurately, carefully keeping it at bay with soft footsteps and the shuffling of papers.

The quiet is broken by a knock on the door.

Sephiran pauses, gaze lifting cautiously before he stands- briefly considering if he should simply say that the door was unlocked and let the visitor in. But it doesn't take long for him to cross the length of the room, and he hasn’t moved in a while.

The bell of the door rings as its shopkeeper pulls it open, heralding the entrance of a man he had thought long gone.

“… Zelgius?” How his voice had been steady, he doesn’t know. Grief had not fully softened at the edge of time, not so quickly, after only a few years- yet he finds that somehow, he does not fall at the spot. 

He would not have been remiss to, he knows. “How…”

How are you alive? Why did you come here- to Fodlan? 

“How did you find me?”

[annularity]

How...? That is all his Lord wish to know?

"I had heard tell of a man of your description. I followed my leads here." Zelgius lowers himself to one knee. Partly, it is due to respect, and fondness; but also, he is tired. His body heaves under his armor, weaker, older.

"I would page every home in this land, knowing you still live," he says simply. His eyes turn up from the ground, but don't quite land in Sephiran's own.

Despite the absurdity of his appearance, despite the uncanny presence he now poses in his doorway, he does not miss a beat.

"What can I do for you, now?"

[annularity]

Greil sees a familiar face. He hadn’t gotten the chance to see it under the armor when they last dueled, but he recognized him all the same. Didn’t Ike say he killed him? Greil has no reason to doubt his son, yet it looks like fate has her own plans. 

He squints his eyes, brows tense as he takes a long glance at him — his former student and soldier, working as a knight in this land, of all places? 

… You again, boy. 

The mercenary could only hope that there would be no more reason to face him anymore, or for him to challenge Greil anymore. They were both alive, now no longer on different sides of conflict and war. 

There’s nothing for him to say to Zelgius. And so, he walks away before a conversation could be had.

He turns at the last moment. It is him. He felt it the moment they passed one another, the same as when they had passed before, years ago. He need not look for confirmation.

There is no longer a part of him that yearns for validation. There is little for him to act on, as vain as his quest had been. Gawain already lives on in Ike; why would he return now? (Though, why too would Zelgius himself reappear?)

There was a time that Zelgius would have sacrificed much for one more lesson with him. As much as his Lord had guided him, aided him, healed him, it was incomparable to his crusade of skill under Gawain. That wholeness, in pursuit of talent, that his mentor had left him hungry with. His mentor, that had left him alone.

His lips start to part, but he hesitates: would Gawain even want to see him again? His bloodstained claws were no longer the property of a valiant knight of Daein, no matter how much he believed to champion its restoration. Would Gawain understand, just he had always seemed to before? Wordlessly?

His teeth clench, cutting the inside of his lip.

"I wish you well," is all he can muster before turning his back.