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⌜Though the curtains may fall again and again, so long as others take the stage, ever shall there be more tales to tell.⌟ highly selective & extremely private multimuse — as lovingly cared by tenka

[archaeoelysian]

ARCHAEOELYSIAN. Independent multimuse roleplay blog. 18+, mutuals only, highly selective, extremely private and low activity. Personal/fandom blogs please don’t reblog my posts! This blog is not spoiler free!

⁘ Rules. ⁘ Muses. ⁘ Prompts. ⁘ 

— as lovingly kept by Tenka.

[archaeoelysian]

The intruder regarded the broken shards of Dalamud for a long moment, and only then did he jump, warping space just as he landed to avoid a painful crash.

He stood still for a long moment and then advanced onwards, watching and observing, mouth pursed in distaste underneath the red mask and black cowl.

Then he turned once more, and the only indication of his shock was the sudden step back he took.

"... Father?"

@aetherstories -- all the suffering from turning one person into an ascian

The moment a soul entered the realm, the one residing inside was notified - ever since his change and the connection to Bahamut, it came easier to him to read the aether and oh the familarity he felt upon the recognition.

Silently would he wait and watch, curious as ever to see what was to come, yet he did naught to hide his own presence and surely enough he had been recognized ( how could he not, if the form he took was still the one of the mortal he once was; mind hazy still and not entirely his own ).

There was a stern look on his features, yet no feelings shown towards the other - of all that could have stumbled into this place, he hadn't expected his youngest son to be the first to do so; and even then, the way the man had entered the realm was most surprising.

While Louisoix Leveilleur know naught of them, the being now, tempered with his Master's influence, knew of the suffering the Allagans had put them through -- that of which was orchestrated by none other than the Ascians. And somewhere within his chest, he felt the anguish of the reality he was faced with: how could his youngest, beloved son have joined the ranks of those who sought to destroy their beloved star?

"Fourchenault." It is too dangerous here, you should leave. Words passed through his mind, yet none left his tongue.

"What for have you come?" Question posed at the Ascian, yet the next one slipped through from within his heart. Despite their disagreement, Louisoix knew that his son would not truly side with those who sought annihilation. He treasured his children too dearly. Much like he himself did. "What has become of you, my son?"

[archaeoelysian]

aetherstories​:

@archaeoelysian asked for a starter with Fourchenault (Emmerololth)

Emmerololth regarded the library with a faint curiosity, unseen nevertheless behind the red mask and black cowl of an Overlord. He had kept his distance, far too aware he didn’t want to know too much of what his children had been doing, and yet Elidibus had seen it fit to send him in his stead.

It was quite probably the height of hypocrisy to be wary of Urianger, given what Emmerololth knew now, and yet…

“You play a most dangerous game, Urianger.” He spoke, with a voice the other would most likely recognize. “Naught but harm comes from associating with the Paragons.”

He had holed himself up within the Great Gubal Library -- a place most fond and nostalgic to the Elezen; days spent in idleness, seeking knowledge of everything and nothing, and alongside his dearest companion, no less. Fond memories they may be, the state ‘twas in now had the Archon pained. Nevertheless, ‘twas not for his own enjoyment that he had been frequenting it -- after his coincidental overhearing the Warrior of Darkness and an Ascian, he was determined to find out more -- aught that could help the Scions in their paths and secure their victory. Aught to prevent the loss and sacrifice of another.

Attention may be on the tome, yet he remembered to stay alert in case another beast had found it inside.

Urianger thought himself to be unfazed -- after all that had happened, he had prepared himself for all possibilities -- yet the familiar voice had the Elezen freeze in the spot. Eyes widened behind goggles, he needed a heartbeat ere turning to face his new companion. Yet there was no mistake as he glanced at the familiar attire; and despite the secrecy, the mask and the cowl, the voice and the demeanor was telling enough.

“Master Fourchenault--?” His voice raised higher in sheer surprise. “What business dost thou have here--” A frown. The answer was there already, yet he refused to listen to the conclusion his mind had drawn. There was too much yet unknown of the Ascians and those in their ranks -- of their goals and schemes. Urianger hoped, still, that he had been mistaken. The concern and ache he felt was not for himself, but those he saw as a part of his family -- the two young ones he had been so proud of to call his companions now.  

[archaeoelysian]

Minerva sprawls over Solus' lap. "Entertain me, please. I feel neglected..."

@avalcn -- Athena wants kisses again

The sigh of annoyance which left his lungs was not solely directed on the woman on his lap now - but more so that the act itself had reminded Hades of someone else, one he yearned for constantly, yet pretended he didn't. Much like that very moment - memories and feelings pushed away and locked up as he reminded himself of the role he now played.

With the view of the table gone ( and his work along with it ) and replaced by Minerva instead, the Emperor was forced to meet her gaze; arms lazily wrapped around the woman. "Is that so?" 'Twas not truly a question, of course, yet one that slipped nonetheless. "What would the Empress desire, hm?" Slowly, his hand slid up slowly -- along her spine 'till they reached white tresses and ere a reply slipped through her lips, there was a gentle pull; his lips brushing against hers lightly.

[archaeoelysian]

aetherstories·:

@archaeoelysian || from here || Black Rose Timetravel Azem

A glance, a small smile, met with eyes uncovered, no mask in sight, concern and worry plain and yet the faintest glimmer of hope therein, in a gaze they had both grown used to. A gaze that would not be returned, if Azem eyes were to meet those of the Warrior of Light, and one that would not be seen for some time, not only because of their circumstances, but because Azem would need to keep their involvement to the shadows, hide their face behind a mask.

Eyes closed, then, Azem awaited, feeling the magic being worked through the Tower, feeling aether condense and shape the laws of reality itself to bridge the Source and the First, and bring to them a hero. One that could do what Azem could not, and had not been able to.

One that would not fall, where Azem had fallen. They’d ensure fate was not repeated. The Warrior of Light would not feel the blood of so many in their hands, nor would they feel the need to Ascend and doom the world. They would not make Azem’s mistakes.

A breath, a moment, a song of aether all around them, and then quiet and silence and naught but the weight of what had not happened. The Warrior was not there. Astraeus was not there, and yet someone else was.

Azem remembered the worry, on another life. How they had hoped things would be different. Yet as they opened their eyes, as they set a bronze gaze upon the Exarch, then softly, gently, smiled. Shook their head. Rested a hand over flesh, taking a step forward.

“We knew it might not be a success, the very first time.” They spoke. “What we are attempting is complex. If a soul has been summoned, if the Rift has been breached, we know it can be done, and so we need only adjust.” They added, tone gentle. “There is a lost soul we must now meet, however. Lest you need a breath, of course, then I will bring them here.” They offered.

They could not deny they felt restless, nevertheless. They could only offer aether, for they could not even fight the Lightwardens themselves. And it pained them, to be able to do so little for the world that was now a home.

“You have not failed me, Raha.” They whispered, final and soft.

If anything, Azem had failed them all first.

More than the exhaustion felt, he felt the disappointment course through his body -- ‘twas directed towards himself, no less, for he was the one to claim it possible, the one who announced he could summon the Warrior of Light from the Source to help with what had befallen this star. Centuries after centuries did he work towards one goal, a heavy burden he had noone to share with for a long while, a duty he knew he could not fail no matter what. Yet he had failed them -- dark thoughts were slowly tugging at his mind, easier when his mind and body was exhausted; his gaze cast down as the weakness he hid so well started to surface. 

‘Twas the soft voice, the familarity of the kind soul next to him which kept him grounded and his thoughts at bay. And he needed a moment to not lose hope once more ( ‘twas so easy, truly, when all he did was fight for his belief and push forward no matter what ); a deep breath taken in ere crimson met with bronze; the smallest of smile on his lips. “Thank you.” For believing in me ... for beind by my side. Words he did not speak, yet the sincerity was there all the same. 

“But you are right -- I -- will need some time to recover and replenish the energy, but I promise I will get it right, Azem. We will see this through and have the Warrior of Light here.” A short pause. In all these years of their companionship, he knew well how difficult it had been for the other, and while at first ‘twas difficult to trust them, he believed to know the other well enough now to understand their feelings, and their own struggles. “We will make it right again.” He assured them.

“Come. We have some way to travel - I only hope that our friend will be alright ‘till our arrival.” Lakeland was, fortunately, not too far off to the Crystarium, still, they had best hurry to meet their new friend.

[archaeoelysian]

dryadalismagicae​:

@archaeoelysian​ || LIKED for a STARTER with Lyrian

He had promised he was but only going for a walk, naught more. The mountains when fresh snow had fallen were naught short of beautiful to behold and there was nothing he enjoyed more than wandering among nature at such a time. Upon his way back, after being lucky enough to find a few specimens of Crystal Grace flowers to show Urianger upon his return, did the male slip. 

Always was Lyrian careful, always was he perfectly in tune with his surroundings and yet that morning was his mind so elsewhere that he became careless. His fall lead him down a small slope, over a ledge and into the utterly abysmal water of the river where he was certain every nerve in his body screamed out in outright agony. The sheer strength it took for him to drag himself out was undeniable and once he did, did he send a rather weak whisper upon the very breeze in search for help. 

So very cold, the chill near ceasing already arthritic joints, Lyrian found himself almost unable to move from the bank of the river for the good while - using the very thrum of his innermost magic to warm him just enough to pull himself along and towards snow as opposed to rather sharp pebbles. 

Ah, he would have some explaining to do- Urianger wasn’t going to be happy. 

Despite knowing well that his friend was ever careful when he left home, Urianger could still not keep himself from worrying - ‘twas not as if the other was a child and in terms of experience and knowledge, far exceeded his own. Even so, the weakening constitution and the years he had stayed with Lyrian were enough to have the Archon concerned when a bell passed and his friend nowhere to be seen. Yet he chose to be patient and wait a while longer, and ‘twas not until another bell that Urianger had a bad feeling and left home in search for the man.

‘Twas mostly luck that would have him find his friend eventually -- being more or less familiar with the routes Lyrian preferred, along the art of astrology which came in handy in such situations. 

Yet the state he had found the Dalish in was not fortunate at all; a frown quickly spreading across his features as his steps fastened to reach his friend. “Lyrian, by the Twelve -- what happened?” An unnecesary question, in truth, when ‘twas plain what had occured with the state the male was in - the sight nigh sending a shiver down his own spine ( he had never been fond of the cold, truth be told ) and worry washed over him. 

Quickly did he consider their options - ‘twas plain that his friend was in dire need of treatment and most of all warmth, yet the latter was difficult to achieve amidst the snowy mountains. “Prithee, stay still -- I must needs care for thine injury ere we proceed.” Fortunately, he had picked up healing and while he still had much to learn, ‘twould suffice to cease the pain at the very least. But ah, how he wished he could do more than mend some wounds. “We must needs warm thou up, ere thy body temperature drops further --”

[archaeoelysian]

speciosuspoematis​:

@archaeoelysian​ || LIKED for an accidentally wooing STARTER

He’s quiet, keeping out of the way of pacing feet and working minds so not to disturb or disrupt. Instead, he knits himself into a corner where naught of any importance lays and simply jots into his notebook, ideas and thoughts scribbled downward. 

When all falls quiet, when the presence of many falls to naught does he stand himself and wander around his confines - a brow raised as eyes glance across unfamiliar maps and mentions of scientific formulae.  He understands none of it, decides not to even try as eyes settle upon a case in the distance - - underneath books and piled papers. 

Hands reach out, the case drawn closer to his person and opened to view the instrument inside. Swiftly do eyes glance around, checking that he is alone before the neck is picked up and tuned with love. Moments pass, silence broken by beauteous music - the poet having not played for some time, only kept it to himself after his mothers passing. Now - now felt akin to a good time to indulge. 

As far as the dear poet knew, none were nearby - none within the annexe close enough to hear at all. Wrong he was, certainly - but he knew naught. 

When he stepped into the familiar place he had intended to seek his friend to begin with, yet the surprise when Urianger was caught off guard when greeted by music instead -- attention successfully caught. Slow, steady steps took the man closer to the source, and more than anything, ‘twas awe that had him halt, watching from a small distance, yellow eyes trained on his friend. 

He didn’t mean to interrupt the man -- and much like their first meeting, Urianger found himself incapable of walking away. When at first ‘twas poetry which caught his attention, ‘twas now the music played so beautifully, which had him mesmerized. And so he stood there in silence; enjoying the melody ere it came to a halt. 

Silently did he applaud ( as to not interrupt the serene atmosphere ) as he closed the distance between them; a fond smile on his features. “What a wonderful melody -- truly, thou hast talent with the instrument, my friend. ‘Tis a song of thine own making?” 

[archaeoelysian]

senetaf·:

CONTINUED— @archaeoelysian

     THEY THOUGHT IT WAS OVER AND BY THE MAKER, IT IS NOT. The horrors have only just begun and Hati assumed that for sure he had seen the worst of it all. He could smell their fear and how they are just moritified as him. And yet, everything felt too relaxed still. What were they truly brought here for? His greatsword have never felt heavier than before. Blood never left its blade, and now they fight monstrosities that don’t even leave a trace of what they used to be behind. They were just… gone and could only rely on others to be remembered.

    The Viera’s hands were upon his face, eyes wide as he gazed at the distance. Before they returned to this sanctuary, he was more than certain that he could escape such harmless thoughts on the way as he had always done before. He might have escaped them often thanks to his little tricks, but every battle had something of his he couldn’t dare leave. They will quiet down, he convinced himself desperately, as the noises in his mind drowned out Alphinaud’s voice. He waited for more to intrude his mind, but they did not come.

    His hands rested on the wooden rail of the worn out tents. The knuckles were battered, the fingers hatched with white nicks of scars as though he had plunged them into broken wood or shards of glass. He had seen the stains on the deck. They had been scrubbed, yet the blood from the sickness that took some people had soaked deep. All that was left of so many lives that once made it whole. His stomach twisted with newfound guilt, remembering Tesleen had just been alive mere moments ago, and how she had fallen by his hand.

    “If I ever become like that… I would want you all to kill me as well.” Hati freely announced. He’d rather end his life than cause destruction upon any land, steal the lives of those he have sworn to protect. The idea of being consumed by so much light was frightening. By Wood Mother, he hoped he would never end like that. “It’s a stray thought, one that I’m not proud to share with you… and I am regretful that I have.”

As the young Elezen finished his words and silent oath that -- come what may, they would stand at his side, he hadn’t expected the sight that awaited him nor the words that would soon meet his ears. His eyes widened in surprise ( and there was the shock as well, mayhaps even the creeping of ... fear ), his mouth slightly agape at the statement. Alphinaud need not ask to know whence these feelings are from, for the life the Warrior had to end -- a dear friend of Alisaie, no less -- a soul beyond saving and recognition. The terror they had felt when they first arrived at the First shard, the time it took for them to accept that ‘twas how the world in the here and now worked. Yet for him -- for their Hero -- ‘twas all still new. And he knew ‘twas too much for one person to take all at once. 

After a few more moments, Alphinaud collected himself again, entertaining the idea of the possibilities ( one he hoped would never come to pass ), and questioning his own resolve -- would he be able to end his friends life, if he was to turn into a sin eater? The thought itself sickened him, for Hati had been more to him than just a friend, more than someone he looked up to -- he was part of their family after all. Yet... 

“If that time comes, and Twelve have mercy, it shan’t -- we shall do what needs to be done.” Despite the heaviness in his heart, ‘twas the least he could offer - he understood well whence the feelings come from after all - he himself would prefer that path rather than hurting those dearest to him. “Yet let the thought come and pass, Hati. No matter what, we will prevent it from happening -- we will not let you down.” That in and of itself was the best he could offer - ‘twas the reason for their years of effort and hard work after all, as ‘twas the Warrior of Light’s death on the Source which they sought to prevent -- a future they wished to change and what good would that do, if he was not with them any longer? “We will succeed.”

[archaeoelysian]

undyinglament​:

“Mine child, I offer you my utmost respect. You are one of the few who truly deserve it.”

@archaeoelysian​ | Papalymo 

The Lalafell glanced up at the unusual words, a brow cocked in confusion and his arms soon crossed over his chest. “And who, pray tell, would you be?” Papalymo did not recognize the figure afore him at all.

[bamzyy]

« As Sharlayans, it is our task to observe—to chart the course of history, not to change it. »

[archaeoelysian]

So... I’ve been playing on my Urianger alt... and he’s meeting Eren right now... and I just -- them

[archaeoelysian]

"I am not saying the books are wrong. I am just saying they are hardly considering the right hypothesis."

(To Papalymo, from Y'rhika Tia)

@aetherstories

A brow was raised at the commentary and his movements came to a halt to instead eye his companion inquisitively. "Oh, is that so?" The tome now shut and put on top of the table, the Archon has his arms over his chest. "You mean to say that there's another explanation?"

'Twas not that Papalymo was doubting his words, but the tomes they had gathered all had a similar conclusion, which would be their best clue towards solving the mystery. What kind of hypothesis the Miqo'te spoke of, however, did pique his interest, even if he was still uncertain where his views came from in the first place. "And if so - what would you know of it? Care to elaborate?" First and foremost, the thaumaturge was also a scholar -- one who was ever curious and wished to expand his knowledge. 

[archaeoelysian]

avalcn·:

   She had not kissed him in hopes for him to return it. In fact, it had not even crossed her mind in the first place when she had leaned forward and had gently pressed her lips against his. His response caught her off-guard and even more so when his tongue brushed her skin. She did not act immediately as she did not quite know how to behave – which was a silly notion given how her body exactly knew what to do. She tilted her head a little to the side and let her lips part for him. 

   The tip of her tongue met his. Bringing up her left hand, Minerva traced the line of his jaw rather affectionately. There was no reason for him to stop, truly. She welcomed him and his touch. How strange and yet enticing his taste was. 

When there was no resistance to be met, Solus simply indulged in the moment -- enjoying the intimacy shared, one he hadn’t felt in millenia. There was something inside him which was uncertain whether ‘twas a good decision or not, but at the end of the day, ‘twas naught more than a game after all.

Mimicking her actions, Solus tilted his head slightly as well; tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting and enjoying the moment. His hands started to wander at her back - slowly as it traced along her spine ere settling on her ass; a tentative squeeze and a content hum ere the massaging started. As he started to suck on her tongue and nibbles on her lip; his hands moved to undo her dress. Mouth moving to capture a patch of skin on her neck instead ere he bit into it without warning. He did not care that ‘twould leave a mark for everyone to see.

[archaeoelysian]

what is this? is today the day we create more ascian’s shard in random npcs?

[archaeoelysian]

aetherstories·:

He could see Alphinaud’s turmoil, even if he could see the way he got his thoughts and expressions under control. It was a dangerous state in battle, that of shock, and yet Fourchenault supposed it could be forgiven. It did not stop him from keeping an eye on their surroundings, his power ready in case another blasphemy appeared.

“First of all,” he spoke, his voice almost gentle, “do summon your nouliths. We are not yet safe here." 

He was rather proud, all in all,  of how in control of himself Alphinaud appeared. Still, they were not safe, and so he could not dally. Not if he wished to retain all he now stood to lose.

"What you have witnessed,” he settled for, crossing his arms in an attempt to show no aggression, stern as he was by nature, “is something you are unfortunately familiar with. So am I, and have been for more than two decades now.”

For longer than the twins had been alive. Enough that he had already been an Overlord when he’d learnt he was to be a father.

“I mean you no harm, however.” He added. “Nor to Sharlayan or the world as you know it.”

It should not need be stated, and yet… Not so long ago, it had been him bowing to the Unsundered as well, when he’d needed to. He had caused harm enough, when he could see no other option.

“I was given the name and rank of Emmerololth.” He revealed. “That is the sigil you have witnessed.”

There was but a split moment of surprise at Fourchenault’s words, but in most part, ‘twas as if he had been caught unawares -- he knew better than to lower his guard during battle, yet in the moment of shock, his senses had failed him. A nod in acknowledgement ere he summoned his nouliths and eyed their surroundings - ready in case the need arose. 

Two decades. His eyes widened once more - despite his attempt to be aware and in control of his emotions, he hadn’t expected such revelations. ‘Twould mean that Fourchenault had been an Ascian even before their birth - but would that imply that the marriage with his Mother -- but why would an Ascian--? All these years and they hadn’t noticed aught at all. Once more, a turmoil of emotions wash over the young Elezen, fists shaking slightly from the force, the attempt to keep calm in this unexpected situation.

Yet he did not look away, blue eyes meeting the ones of the Ascian, as he let the words sink in. Was he to be believed? Alphinaud, out of everyone, knew well what skills Fourchenault Leveilleur had -- weaving with words in such convincing matter that he’d easily win each and every debate -- and if that was so, then was the man simply tricking him into believing he was on their side? Would there be any need of that? The younger pondered, briefly recalling the happenings of the day, the behaviour of the one he called his Father. 

Despite the logical response to Fourchenault’s words, the question which concerned him the most ( driven by emotions, more than logic ) was but one: “Does Mother know?”

Only then did he manage to inquire about the grander picture. “What proof do you have for your words, Emmerololth?” He wanted to be naive and believe in his words, but he could not do so entirely -- for ‘twas the foolish belief in his - nay, in his first, failed attempt of uniting Eorzea which had him experience such backlash, such loss and growth. Now that the world was at stake, Alphinaud could not afford to trust an Ascian so easily -- even if he was the man he knew and trusted and looked up to since his birth.

[archaeoelysian]

speciosuspoematis·:

@archaeoelysian· asked: ❝ i’m here. i’m at thy side. don’t be afraid. ❞  

Don’t be afraid. With eyes closed and unsteady breaths echoing from the depths of his lungs, Cyvel almost mistook the uttered words to be those of his mothers. So soft had she been, so understanding, supportive- and yet motivational. So nervous had he been throughout his childhood that he had often only been pushed forward by the gentleness of his dear mother - - 

The parallels to the present were uncanny, another shuddered breath released ere he opened the pale of his eyes and turned to glance at Urianger, now the one to gently hold his hand and offer presence and support; so willingly, with such immense assurance. 

“I’m always afraid-” He admits with a half-chuckle; the softened tremble to his hand clasping the others likely already telling enough to explain his feelings. Crowds, especially those of intellegent figures and Sharlayan dignitaries - or the equivalent - made the dear poet nervous for while he may have been labelled as well taught by Ishgardian standards, he paled fiercely in comparison to those there. 

“This time… not for myself. I’m far used to disapproving gazes - - I simply don’t want to embarrass you.” 

Despite his soothing words, the Elezen was rather tense himself -- ‘twas not like him to show such emotions, however, especially not when he was the one attempting to calm another. Yet what good was he, if he could not do so, at the very least? If he could not even be there for one he held so dear when the other felt such unease?

A small smile was offered at the words, his own hand squeezing the poet’s in hopes of more comfort. “Thou hast naught to worry about, Cyvel. Thou wilt not embarrass me nor anyone in thy company -- for that, thou hast my word.” Words spoken in earnest, for neither him or his would ever judge one such as him -- too little did he think of himself, not seeing the greatness in himself - the greatness Urianger saw in him.

“Come, let us find a moment’s peace with something to drink -- a freshly brewed tea may calm thy mind.”

[archaeoelysian]

Surrounded by blasphemies, ‘twas not in the Sage to falter so easily -- after years of travels alongside the Warrior of Light and being part of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, ‘twas one thing the young man had learned and flourished in -- to never lose hope, no matter how futile a situation may seem. ‘Twas this mindset which assured their victory again and again, and now more than ever, Alphinaud knew he could not run from his duties ( he did not wish to -- for his heart and soul is dedicated to his task; for a world worth living in with all those he held dear ).

“I shall not run, Father. I will cover you.” A simple request, a simpler reply - his determination shining through as he readies for battle. His own nouliths ( ones passed down to him; once owned by the one standing beside him ) shining blue as he lands the first hit. ‘Twould not be enough to vanquish them all, not easily anyhow -- yet ere he could continue, a barrier appears; protectively ‘twixt them and the beasts. A feeling of nostalgia washed over him -- easily reminding the Elezen of the uncountable times his Father would shield them from harm when they were younger. A smile of pride and ease tugged at his lips. He knew that they would not lose - not if they were to fight together. 

Yet all the years of travels had not prepared the man of what was to come -- a familiar red visible at the corner of his eyes and for the moment of a heartbeat, Alphinaud dared not turn to face the other; afraid of what he was to find. A shaky breath released, blue eyes widened in turmoil -- a sigil -- an Ascian sigil. The sight itself enough to force him to lose control, his nouliths fell to the ground, useless and forgotten, his stance no longer firm; his conviction in jeopardy.  

Confusion written all over his features ( a mistake, he knew better than anyone -- ‘twas the first thing taught to deceive your opponent; to never let slip your true feelings ), he could do naught but stare at the man. Ascian...? Or mayhaps possession? The way Thanced’s body had been used by Lahabrea -- no, that could not be -- if that had been an Ascian, they would not have cared for Alphinaud, would they? 

His thoughts were still in turmoil as the fight had come to an end. “Father...?” The young Sage let slip, eyes trained on the man’s face, the sigil disappearing ere Fourchenault deigned to turn around. 

Now, more than ever, I need you to listen. His fists clenched, Alphinaud cast his gaze away momentarily. So he is not possessed, was the first thought crossing his mind -- but if not, then just what...? And did his mother know--? A few shaky breaths later, exhaling in an attempt to calm himself - a reminder that he is no longer a child, that even if he should be an enemy --

He did not finish the thoughts ere he shook his head, once more determined to follow through with their plans, their chosen path as his eyes locked with Fourchenault’s; naught of the hesitation and confusion priorly felt visible. 

“I am listening.” 

@aetherstories​ [ continued ]