* ᵒⁿ 𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒉 ;

kill 𝙢𝙚 if its 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 it.

[benydikta]

portrayed by jaspy     ( they / he.     28. )     HEAVY SPOILERS FOR XVI.      ✻ ㅤㅤ𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 ㅤ𝒂𝒔 ㅤ𝒂𝒏 ㅤ𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅ㅤ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 ;      portrayal loosely based on canon with a     HEAVY HC INFLUENCE.     # my character now.     ㅤ𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙽𝙸.ㅤㅤㅤ『 harpy with a human heart. 』

  Ⅰ.      carrd.    ･    Ⅱ.    prompt tag.    ･    Ⅲ.    inbox count:    00.

*ㅤㅤAN EXPLORATION IN:       godhood,     𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢ㅤ 𝔞𝔰ㅤ 𝔞ㅤ 𝔴𝔢𝔞𝔭𝔬𝔫,      loss of innocence,     𝑰 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑩𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑻𝒀𝑹 ;      home being someone's arms,      the price of freedom,      &ㅤ a rage that supersedes all grief.

▪ ㅤㅤ𝙻𝙰𝙼𝙱𝚂 ㅤ𝙾𝙵 ㅤ𝚃𝙷𝙴ㅤ 𝙵𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 :ㅤㅤ@telamn,ㅤ @saivas.ㅤ 』

Visit Original Link

[benydikta]

alright fine ailli im back

[benydikta]

damn. might have to go back to dragon age

[benydikta]

i just wanna make you feel okay .

 ･    𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝙰𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 :     ... open!

jill is all round shapes: ㅤ  upturned, the sun glinting off a glacier, ㅤ  gentle lines surrounding ruined, wobbly hands.ㅤ   it's a bit of a marvel, ㅤ  but mostly grating, ㅤ  that jill has maintained that fluttering, desperate ache for connection, a far-off, paper curled memory of extravagantly worn clothes and borrowed jewelry, a worn down but merciful heart.ㅤ   an absolute,ㅤ   a woman with fingers curled around the handle of a knife; ㅤ  a testament to jill's strength, plunging through.

benedikta has become warped, bubbled up in a blacksmith's forge,ㅤ   the burnt edge of a cigar.ㅤ   she could blame it on garuda's madness. on her liege's claim of her obedience. ㅤ  but the truth of it  ──   she's too used to the leash, the chain and collar. freedom only looks like freedom when she's rubbed the skin off her knees, tasting rotting peaches in her mouth.

this proffered kindness is a sword drawing blood; ㅤ  it's that shift in a man's eyes when he gazed down at the silver, repetitious lashes at her back: ㅤ  derelict thing, crippled outside her mother's womb, cradled in impoverished arms.ㅤ   it chafes like an unsharpened blade. ㅤ  that's why they are more incompatible than they ever have been, jill bashing against a carefully built wall of benedikta's self-flagellation. it makes benedikta feel vile; ㅤ  odious and blistering with infection.

lifting her chin, benedikta clings at a weak facsimile of pride. ㅤ    ‘‘   then leave me alone.ㅤ  i feel the best when i can't see the sight of you.   ’’  ㅤ  her sneer is devastating; an anthill being crushed underfoot. ㅤ  it doesn't matter if it's true or not. ㅤ  some days are better than others  ──   but unless jill turns winter into chilled splinters in her skin, has shiva pit beauty against savagery, then anything offered is a vile confirmation: ㅤ  there's weakness there, soft-bellied,ㅤ   a prey animal soundlessly screaming under a hunter's ministrations.

 ‘‘   better yet,   ’’  ㅤ  benedikta sways forward, beseeching or threatening or both,  ㅤ  ‘‘   you should seek retribution. ㅤ  revenge.ㅤ   i left you to die.   ’’ 

[ohisms]

↪ 𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝑺𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑨𝑻 𝑴𝑬 . ( a collection of lyric starters from an assortment of billie eilish songs . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

you scared me to death .

there's nothing left to save now .

i don't think i caught your name .

i like it when you take control .

you're sacred and they're starved .

how dare you ? and how could you ?

one of us is gonna lose .

i don't even really know how it happened .

i'm out of sympathy for you .

just let me hold you .

don't talk about me like you might know how i feel .

try not to abuse your power .

i wish someone had told me i'd be doing this by myself .

it's not like me to be so mean .

you just want what you can't have .

would you like me to be quiet ?

i haven't slept since sunday .

i don't want to want you .

it hurts , but i know how to hide it .

i'm the only one who does it how you like .

you better keep your head down .

a lot can change in twenty seconds .

why aren't you scared of me ?

i thought that i was special .

you're looking at me like i'm see-through .

you were a hero , you played the part .

i never really know how to please you .

see what you wanna see .

gold's fake , and real love hurts .

no way , i'll call the cops .

maybe you should leave before i get too mean .

i just wanted to protect you .

you only listen to your fuckin' friends .

they're never gonna give you love like ours .

all you wanna do is kiss me .

don't you know too much already ?

it's weird that we care so much until we don't .

i didn't change my number , i changed who i reply to .

i don't know what feels true .

did you really think this is the right thing to do ?

i would hate to see you go .

i'd never treat me this shitty .

i'll only hurt you if you let me .

you made me feel like it was my fault .

now i know what you are .

i feel more and more like i was made for you .

you wanna kill me ? you wanna hurt me ?

don't try to make me feel bad .

wait , you know what ? maybe just forget it .

was i made from a broken mold ?

you want me to be yours , then you've gotta be mine .

tell me "nothing lasts" , like i don't know .

wait a minute , let me finish .

you know i'm not your friend without some greenery .

my demands aren't high to make .

stop , what the hell are you talking about ?

we both know i'm worth waiting for .

you ruined everything good .

you really know how to make me cry .

your love feels so fake .

i wanna be alone . alone with you , does that make sense ?

spit it out , what is it exactly ?

i'll never let you go .

if we were meant to be , we would've been by now .

you can pretend that you don't miss me .

just fucking leave me alone .

don't say i didn't warn you .

it's pretty cool , right ?

i think i might have fallen in love .

i tried not to upset you .

do you even feel anything ?

don't ask questions , you don't wanna know .

i've been walking through a world gone blind .

i just wanna make you feel okay .

i know you don't care , but can you listen ?

don't you know i'm no good for you ?

[wovi]

when georges bataille wrote, “no greater desire exists than a wounded person’s need for another wound” & when gillian flynn wrote, “a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort” & when ocean vuong wrote, “sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you’ve been ruined” & when lisa m. basile wrote, “did you inherit a sickness? did you blame god? do you believe in god? do you believe in yourself? are you still on fire? did you ever put out the fire?” & when stephen a. guirgis wrote, “why didn't you make me good enough so that you could’ve loved me?”

[benydikta]

“   i can handle all the dirty work .   ”

 ･    𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙳𝙾𝙼 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃𝚂 358/2 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 :     ... open!

there's gore up to her elbows ㅤ  and her skintight leather clothes feel less like a glove than the hot slick heat of late afternoon. ㅤ  it could be a synonym for love, to benedikta, ㅤ  the act of violence; ㅤ  bliss built inside the crypt of her own gratuitous death. ㅤ  in the deranged portrait of her side-profile,ㅤ   does cid see a beast or a woman? ㅤ  see the claws or her russet hands? ㅤ  for him it must be both, presence a rag to wipe away the stain, ㅤ  carefully pulled through the webbing of her unclenching fingers.

he's still a hero and she's still decidedly not, ㅤ  deciding between the underbelly of a wounded animal and the decapitated head of a snake. there's venom. ㅤ  there's her bite, healing over cid's jugular. ㅤ  and   ──   there's the bodies on the ground in the mud in a wet morning somewhere around eastpool. ㅤ  they were in the way: ㅤ  it wraps up neatly for benedikta like that, kicking a body that comes underfoot,ㅤ   faceless and decidedly ordinary. ㅤ  but, ㅤ  but,ㅤ   but, ㅤ  but it is never as uncomplicated for cid, her decorated general, stench of salt-sea,ㅤ  ㅤ   her hero of misfits.

benedikta scoffs at him. ㅤ  or maybe it's an aborted attempt at a laugh, for how absurd his attempt is: ㅤ  him taking on the burden, as he takes on all burdens, as though she doesn't see the plaster of his forearm,ㅤ   the pressure offering him a permanent hunch. ㅤㅤㅤ        ‘‘   i'm sure you can,   ’’ ㅤshe mocks,  ㅤ  ㅤ    ‘‘   but i can handle it better.   ’’ ㅤ

hopping over a body,ㅤ   or two,ㅤ   benedikta presses her chest to his, hands spreading wine-red handprints against the fabric of his shirt.  looking up at him, she says,ㅤ    ‘‘   stay out of the mud, cidolfus. ㅤ  i'll be your hired villain.   ’’ 

[telamn]

it was a nice moment - pleasant, almost, despite the bite in her teeth. a step away from the bloodstained battlefield he’d found her on and towards something that might have resembled a sense of normality for two people, no matter how abnormal they may be in reality ; the curse of lightning that sparks and rushes against the white of his bones, heats the air in every breath he takes, and the curse of magic that stains the tips of her fingers, rattles against kneeling knees, that marks them as something else. power made flesh that turns to stone in time, not people to make choices, but potential monsters to be tied down lest they run amuck amongst the normal people.

and in the same instant it disappeared does it come crashing back into him.

she makes gratitude sound almost miserable, painful in the way that it flips from stubborn defiance and growing comfort, to frightened compliance. it’s a twisted thing stained in too many fearful attempts to placate him to be entirely welcomed, as if she has chosen him as merely a lesser evil. that he may hurt her, but it will be bearable compared to what she might have endured under the lock and key of the bandits from before. it cracks the edges of his smile, though he’s careful not to let his mouth curve too far downwards.

❛ sir? seems like a bit much, don't you think? next you'll be calling my my lord, ❜ he takes a drag from the cigarette between his lips, deeper than he might have under normal circumstances, and exhales through his nose. keeps his voice even, kind as he can manage under the weight of the disappointment over how this conversation had gone after starting with such promise. ❛ i told you my name before. i'm sure you remember it - cidolfus telamon. just cid will do, if you like. ❜

his mother used to scold him as a child for his silver tongue. too clever, she would say, warning him that it would get him into no end of trouble, ( she was right, of course, countless times over, but he always took his lessons hard whether it was swordsmanship, magic, or learning exactly where the limit was in condescendingly speaking to men that thought themselves better than him. ) but truth be told he’d never been more grateful for it all than he is sitting across from her. she leans forward and pulls back all in the same breaths, leaving him balanced on the balls of his feet as he attempts to match her in a careful game of back and forth.

if he pushes too hard, she’ll flee. if he doesn’t push hard enough, she’ll sit in that shell forever. he may not have intended to bring her along so he could figure out the puzzle that’s taken up the space beneath her ribs, clues etched on the inside of her teeth, scribbled in the palms of her hands, and carefully hidden away from his view, but she’s there now and it seems a waste to not at least try.

another drag, smoke from his nose. ❛ maybe you would be better off that way, but i have no plans to dump you anywhere, benedikta. i didn't kill those men so i could drag you around with my whims instead. ❜ let’s go home, he’d told her, taking her hand in his and pulling her to her feet. he hadn’t known where home is, what it might look like to her, especially not now when she’s lost enough to think getting saddled with him is her best option despite not trusting the words he says to her, but it was the first thing he'd thought when he stood over her smaller frame, eyes cast down to the dirt. he wants to take her home. ( he hopes and hopes she will at least one to trust those words someday, that he’ll take her home. if it's the last thing he does. )

❛ you find a village or town you want to stay as we go, then stay. you want to keep following the storm clouds, do that. i don't need - don't want - what little you have left that hasn't already been taken from you, so keep it. it's yours now. just worry about figuring out what you want to do. ❜

maybe it’s merely wishful thinking for a dominant to promise an almost slave that there’s hope in freedom when they’re both shackled by the decisions of their ancestors, but it’s all they have. freedom is the point. freedom says they are not tools to be used and thrown out when convenient, but people that have dreams and families, that love and feel sorrow, and he’ll be damned if a moment passes where he bears this weight and doesn’t make the world confront that reality.

[benydikta]

glancing up at him from the shade of her eyelids, benedikta tries to assess, re-assess, clamber quick over the flimsy scaffolding of what she thinks might or may not be what he wants.   as a servant, she knew how to serve a lord, as useless as that turned out being   ──   but she'll never forget the knock on the servant quarters' door in early morning, the way the complacency of daily routine could turn on her in an instant;   thinking she's safe until she has her brow turned up towards the noon of the sky and she can smell her blood in the dirt.

it's less trusting him than she doesn't know better;   never was given the tools to see anyone sitting across from her as anything but a wolf   ──   drooling, slobbering, starving enough to wrap its jaws around her calf, a greedy blood-whetting.  ‘‘   i can, if that's what you'd prefer,   ’’ ㅤshe mutters, offering nothing more, not even his name, offered at the end of a leash.   of course she remembers his name:ㅤpassed about between the innkeeper, the farmer with a wagon he rubbed shoulders with, the mercenary with wandering hands, and him, his mouth scratchy with juvenile stubble, blurred with smoke.

pressing her knees to her chin and her heels to the dirt, benedikta anchors herself to the ground, nails curled into her skin.ㅤif she tore through the sinew, it'd feel just like the man that takes to her name as the fish do to the fisherman's son.ㅤhow does she digest kindness she doesn't know she's hungry for?ㅤher stomach's empty, and she feels herself gagging, but she'll grip her teeth to it, taste ' home ' bursting between her gums like slices of nectarines, like the callouses on a swordsman's hands.

the amber of her eyes shimmer, the rims of her eyes wet.ㅤshe won't cry. ㅤshe won't.ㅤ    ‘‘   okay,   ’’ ㅤshe mumbles, rubbing her nose against the rough rags of her dress.ㅤthere's freedom she stole, tucked under her arm and there to take the edge off, and there's being told what's hers is hers   ──   something for keeps.ㅤbenedikta is given a choice:ㅤnot given permission,ㅤnot told,ㅤbut left floundering in the expanse of the unfamiliar, spread overhead like the birds she'd envy above her lord's garden.

benedikta stares stubbornly down at her toes, grasping at control.ㅤnothing cidolfus did makes sense:ㅤsaving her, expecting nothing by it, carrying along her burden as though it didn't deepen his footprints in the mud, staining his leather boots.ㅤhe leaves another space at his side;ㅤshe's another scabbard notched to his belt but she's not a weapon.ㅤshe'sㅤ...ㅤshe's not sure what she is, and that's why she has to know, peel the light of him back to see if even the sun dies.   ‘‘   but why?ㅤis it because i'm like you?  ’’ ㅤthe wind to carry the storm in.ㅤgod-touched; holy;ㅤ cursed.

[glacierites]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑. bottle of glass : half empty and dull, it slithers down her throat until is bland liquor swims alongside her liver. [ cheap, you say, because you have known riches — knew what it was like to spread garuda's wings and soar. all shiva's known was captivity : inside haearann hall's — meek / powerless with iron burnt metal on her wrist to match. ] all she knew was smuggled goods, firewater that was more water than not. she once drank until sleep consumed her : hangover and fatigue was the only way to get the sight of red out of her mind. once, she thinks, she drank for survival. now she drinks with the luxury of standing idle and gossiping as if she too was free to converse [ free to pretend her soul isn't stained with tar and ichor ]. ❝ oh benna, you're teasing me again. ❞ jill pouts, an expression so natural as winter's snowdrops. inexperienced, shy : how else was she suppose to respond still so sober / so clearheaded. ❝ i will need at least four more bottles before any of them looks slightly more interesting. ❞

[benydikta]

benedikta taps her painted nails against her tankard.   over the inane, worthless, drunken chatter   ──   two women stand to gain a semblance of control.   comradery, undeserved;   it's using spit to make gold shine.   ‘‘   i have barely even begun,   ’’   she counters, swiveling around on her perch to peer and squint at their options.   four bottles seems generous.   ‘‘   we can't help being the most attractive in the room.   ’’

turning back around, benedikta waves over whatever poor barmaid is within reach, the girl a mousey young thing who might've been cute enough to get by in a backwater place such as this, but just looks freckled and unforgettable by benedikta's standards;   standards warped by her own experience, a life spear-headed by beauty's usefulness.   ‘‘   i need my tankard refilled, and seven bottles of red for the table.   whatever you have on hand,   ’’   she demands, sending the barmaid off before putting both elbows on the table.   ‘‘   the point of all this is to have fun,   ’’   benedikta points out to jill,   ‘‘   selection aside your standards betray you.   we have time to change that.   ’’ 

[telamn]

it’s cooler by the water’s edge, the wind that catches and pulls at his clothing sharper, more insistent, than the winds that blow around the hideaway - blew around the old hideaway, hidden now under rubble with little more than rocks to mark where once he built a home for bearers and dominants to rest and live. scars across barren land that tell the world they were there rather than beating hearts, but he supposes it’s refreshing, in a way, the change. more comfortable than having to duck his head and restrict his breathing less the black stain the lining of his lungs and threaten to swallow him from the inside out ( gods know he has enough eating away at him inside, the dominant of ramuh. ). more comfortable than having to look over the dead eyes staring up at him in search of answers he wants himself.

it’s almost familiar, he thinks, another gust sweeping over him. reminds him of the breeze that rushes across the deck of a ship that sways beneath his feet, the one where he’d sat drinking with otto under the moonlight, where he’d shown benedikta how to bring in a sail, where he’d built his first engine. the sea was always kinder to him than land in its memories, as much give as it was take, every storm weatherable when he held the power in the palm of his hand to send the lightning scattering in the sky, but it’s been years since he last stood on the deck of a ship that wasn't carrying him to a horizon stained red in fire and blood and now that he’s standing here he’s beginning to wonder if he still remembers how to command the sea the same way he used to when he had more control over his right hand and there weren’t holes punctured in all the edges of him or if he'll end up walking off the ledge and sinking like the stone creeping up his forearm.

his head shakes, abandoning the thought as quickly as it had come to him when he feels the movement at his side ; benedikta, ever his companion again now that they’d left the legacy to the next man in line ( a struggle, that. he still asks himself if it’s right, if he doesn’t have more to give, and when he does he sees her scowl. ), getting tugged at by the relentless winds just as roughly as he is. he wonders if she thinks to cast it aside with the flick of a wrist, if she can now that garuda is rebellious. if she's tried since it all came crashing down. he doesn’t ask.

hands raise to cup over his mouth, inhaling through his nose and exhaling into his palms to warm the leather of his gloves once, twice, before they fall to catch her hands between them and draw those up, head dipping to meet her upturned palms, breath hot on her fingertips. ❛ getting restless, @benydikta? ❜ he cradles her hands carefully in his own, loose enough that she can pull away if she wants without resistance, firm enough that they’re still where he can warm them. ❛ you can go back inside if you're cold - i'm not going to run off back to the hideaway if you leave me alone too long. ❜ he doubts he’d make it far even if he did have the inclination - she was always faster on her feet than him and she knows him too well to escape capture. ❛ promise. ❜

starter call.

[benydikta]

       𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙱𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁.        that's where she'll find him if absent by her side, his mind a dense and impenetrable fog. the hideaway can be nothing but a siren-song,        and benedikta finds herself oft in the position of the sailor trying to keep him aboard his own ship. she's not a fan of watching him drown.        they've both taken in too much salt-water, besides, it was tough keeping afloat.

       their ship is just a row boat now. she's arrogant enough to think she can save him.        or keep him.        she's not sure if both of those things are interchangeable.        they're both too restless to retire.        cid needs to busy his hands with something, even though there's a stiffness to them these days, and her mind can't chase it's own tail for long either. but it's a privilege afforded to them,        one benedikta carved out through leveraging guilt and love interchangeably, forcibly tying her strings back in knots with cid and cutting off the rest.

       benedikta is sure they'll send letters. or he will. he can't sit still. he must know. or they might need him first. but just as she's become a second hand for him, she'll nudge him in the right direction. she'll make sure his worries are distant, and the weight he carries is shared, and the dead don't speak through the sea.

       a beautiful distraction. much of her life amounted to that.        she wonders that when that beauty fades, he'll look at her the same way;        the way you can't help but watch when tornado meets earth,        all awe above the fear.

       gaze rising to meet their interlocked hands, benedikta frowns when cid opens his mouth.        she can't hide the flinch at the word 'run':        benedikta doesn't trust him.        it's sewn into their lifelines now, the panic in the morning that tendrils around their bedroom, impending chill;        more than half the time, though less than she used to,       she expects him to evaporate,        spiced smoke in the webbing of her fingers.        that bothers her more than the cold. worrying if if she waits too long, he'll be gone, turned over with the shape of him left in her bed.

               ‘‘  i am restless, ’’      she admits, but it's not for the reason he insinuates.        if she could tie him down, she would.        tying him to her would be even better: a double-sided hook that would gut them both if pried apart.         ‘‘  i don't want to be alone, ’’      she gives in lieu of being honest, another mask donned in her masquerade.        her: the habitual liar. him: the silver-tongued fool.        lately though, he can't seem to say the right thing.

       reaching up to press her recently warmed palms to his prickly, bearded cheeks, she taps her fingers to his cheekbones. garuda is playful but is indebted to listen,        as though having a home is better than being without,        but benedikta these days doesn't care for a show of power.        she'd rather her and cid be rattled by the wind,        if only so that he'd worry.       if he were as smart as he claimed, he'd suggest they'd go inside.         ‘‘  what about you? are you keeping warm? ’’      

[benydikta]

“   man ,   i miss the old times .   ”

 ･    𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶𝙳𝙾𝙼 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃𝚂 358/2 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂 :    ... closed.

"no you don't," benedikta bites back. they're out by the water's edge. they like to do that, boots kicked off, bare-feet and submerged in the sand. the water is never warm enough for benedikta to want to go in, and murky besides, but cid thrives in the sea-salt stench of it, his smile-lines pulled through his after-shadow skin.

there are a lot of beaches in waloed that they used to visit. that's probably what he's thinking, water in his ears, the thin film of pressure that dampens the sound of the waves: two young people, on craggy dark rocks, with barely enough gil between them to honor a sheeted bed. "between which points do you miss?" she asks innocently, a child's curiosity, but no, there's pain hard-wired there, etched so deep cid could put his fingers to it. he is her unhealed scar, wedged uncomfortably onto her sternum; a ragged uneven scar-tissue. they could start at the middle and it would start the same: a storm you could smell coming, all ozone, the tide pulled back, a sailor anchorless at sea. it's her warning.

it's her gruesome scarlet, all her love, spattering over her hardening, feathered spine. she's used to submerging it and he's used to pulling it up; a baited hook. he's gutted her from the inside.

"what do you think?" cid's smile shimmers, white sea-foam flicking atop the water, and there's no cid here that can be found in reality: young as when she met him, the sky meets sea reflected in his unweighted eyes, his hair snapped in intervals against the wind. he doesn't have the luxury of it listening.

benedikta purses her lips. "when it was just us. before anything. before i convinced you to join up with barnabas."

"you could've convinced me of anything." he's rested his elbows in the sand, his legs kicked out in front of him. he looks like a kid. she'd laugh if it didn't feel like quicksand, all the deepened lines in her face noticeable.

"i know." she lets her pause seep in between them, like the tide. "is that why you left?"

the cid that’s not cid just smiles at the horizon. he doesn't know the answer because she doesn’t, not yet—not until news comes across the sea about cid the outlaw years down the line, barnabas misshapen with rage and needing placating, and she ... she learns how quick it is to pick a dream over an 'almost': her almost-everything, playful with youth, and his almost-nothing, the scent of powdered sugar and charcoal withered in the empty bowels of her room.

"i hate you," she tells the mirage, her desert shimmer. the sand feels prickly to her now. it's underneath her nails, stuck in the webbing of her toes, itchy in the fabric of her clothes. it makes her more irritated than usual. "you could at least answer me."

"what would you have me say?" cid looks right through her, as though she isn't a fortress made of pain, stubbornness, 206 human bones. "that i'll come back for you?" no cid of hers would be this cruel, so that must be why he adds: "you know i won't."

benedikta must've put rocks in her pockets. that must be why she feels like she's drowning. "you could've lied."

there's something pitying in cid's expression, like he expects her to know better. it curdles, spoilt in her heart. "i've always been honest with you," he says, as though it's any consolation for the way he left.

the ocean isn't comforting anymore. this isn't their idyllic day where the sun tricks you into believing the air is warm—the waves are choppy and dark and the damp air puts goosebumps on her skin. "then," she blurts out, trying to be heard over the upset sea, "if i ever see you again, could i convince you to stay with me?"

there's a wetness to cid's eyes that startles her. she's never seen him cry. even with his nose pressed to her collarbone, his breathing uneven, beard chafing her skin—even when he leaned against the dark stone of the castle, his gaze as weighted as atlas with the world on his shoulders—even when she gripped tight to his worn-down wool shirt with both hands, leaving tear-stains behind—he was dry-eyed and sober and as tangible as pipe smoke.

"benna," he says with an easy smile, though everything between them had become difficult, a ship's shrapnel, "not this time."

benedikta wakes up with a growing familiar, all-encompassing loss, her cheeks wet, the crack inside her so sickeningly loud there's no way she'd be able to hear his voice again.

[otlaw-deactivated20241214]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" — as was i! " clive wastes no time in barking back. he steps forward, every nerve in his body a livewire as he thrusts his arm out to the side with explosive force, his fist coming to lay over his chest. " i was meant to die at phoenix gate when i slew my brother! but my own mother handed me to the imperial army instead! "

LIFE WAS FUNNY THAT WAY, WASN'T IT? just when you're at your worst, your lowest, life always found a way to continue onwards. sometimes life's a bitch and then you keep living. and it certainly was one sick son of a bitch at times. still, the heat that had been propelling him forwards comes to a head as he suddenly begins to simmer, her words finally reaching his ears. what ifrit did to him, he did to her. what ifrit did to him ... he did to her.

... did his monstrous self know no end?

when would the carnage stop?

the dots connect and all the energy is sapped from his body, that all too familiar wave of melancholy washing over him again. it was all too much; finding out he was the second eikon of fire all along, ripping garuda from benedikta's claws, killing joshua, his mother's secret betrayal .... clive slowly falls to his knees, limbs limp.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" i did it, didn't i? " he murmurs, staring at his hands. " all of it. first joshua, now you — i didn't even want your eikon. I JUST WANTED TO AVENGE MY BROTHER! i just wanted to find the second eikon of fire. it was never my intention to rend you limb from limb and pry garuda from your hands, and for that ... " he couldn't believe he was saying this to a former (?) enemy. " you ... you have my utmost sincerest apologies. " clive wasn't sure whether he'd regret it later, but the pressure was simply too much. the mistakes he'd made, the lives he'd taken. he just wanted to atone, however possible.

silence follows his apology, and he finally raises his gaze to hers. gone was the woman he had initially met, with her femme fatale demeanour and conventionally pretty features. she'd always reminded him of a bird; perhaps it was the feathers of her wardrobe. but now she was akin to a deformed fledgling that had fallen from the nest, its wings snapped in two. her features marred by the monstrous form she'd taken in their fight, twisted into the malicious smile of garuda herself. she looked feral. unhinged.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" ... perhaps i was too rash before. there could be a place for you here. " he starts, slowly. she'd already rejected him once but perhaps this time ... perhaps she would pay him heed. " i meant what i said before: you simply have to prove yourself trustworthy. you are only a prisoner for as long as cid can't trust you; your life is far from over, benedikta. this may just be the freedom you've sought after all your life, if you'd just see it through. "

[benydikta]

𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝚇𝙿𝙻𝙾𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝙷𝙸𝚂:         a ricochet of rage and agony, the threads of them desolate, unlivable. can he see her flinch when his arm extends? can he see the way she cowers behind his step, made raw by the absence of cathedrals, of marble carved into her bone? garuda would be there in every sinew. over-confident, a lion with a gazelle in its teeth, unflinching from the flame.         benedikta wouldn't have felt the heat before.         now, she feels herself subject to her own self-immolation, every admittance a log to her pyre.

        she doesn't know clive. he's a hammer when he should've been a chisel, and in hurting her she wants to hurt him, a cyclical wheel of inflicting hurt, shatterings and rupturings, a snake eating its tail. so, she can't tell if its disappointment or a vindicated satisfaction that wells up within her to see clive on his knees.         she did this     ━   but can only take as much credit as to push someone down who was already falling.         ‘‘ i don't owe you my forgiveness,  ’’      she tells him, not a single empathetic bone in her body; they had all been broken and healed wrong; misshapen.

        benedikta had held her father's hand when he sold her to that wealthy family. even when the shine of gil flashed gold in his burnt umber eyes, she didn't think he would let go. there's a beginning, there's a mid-point     ━   cid untangling his fingers from hers in her sleep, an incoming meteor impact     ━   and the end, her liege's bruising grip pressed flat against her skin. she's not a good person and she’s surrounded by people who want to be good.

        sucking in a breath through her jagged teeth, she rolls her head back, struggling not to sigh on the exhale. she's got her sharp, chipped nails in her hair, pulling at her scalp, her jaw locked. what a pathetic display. benedikta doesn't want clive prostrating at her knees, ruptured by her blame     ━   she demands his hate, as it is something she can recognize: a knee pressed into her jugular, suffocating     ━   how beaten must she look to earn his pity? to feel the spindly fingers of connection coiled around her embalmed heart?         ‘‘ do you think i give a fuck about what you think?  ’’      her words are crass in her mouth, a lighter click click clicking before it goes up in flame.         ‘‘ you don't know a thing about me, runt.  ’’      

        lifting up her boot, she puts all her weight to clive's chest, kicking him     ━   lets him collapse the way he must have wanted: victim to a villain. the story is already written.         ‘‘ wouldn't you hate to know cidolfus has ' trusted ' me from the start? he's not the infallible hero this mockery of a hideaway presents.   ’’      pacing in front of her prey she looks down at it, anticipating it's retaliation in all its wretched violence.         ‘‘ just as your feeble display is a mockery of my death. how could i lose to this?  ’’      

        with disgust, she rips herself away, her features all marred and twisted with the splinters of a million different things.         the water is closing in. it's in her throat. it's in her lungs.         benedikta is pinned down and ripped apart and never had a chance to stop it. then, with a rapidly clambered together, malicious sneer, she asks deceptively quiet, too soft to be passed between them:         ‘‘ freedom, clive? have you ever asked jill what a powerless woman could do with ' freedom ' ? i bet you don't even know. i bet you never even thought to ask.  ’’      

she's torn down and she'll tear him down with her.         ‘‘ this place is just another cage, and all of you leeches. ’’      

[benydikta]

completely revamped and updated my carrd :)

[otlaw-deactivated20241214]

IT COULDN'T BE, COULD IT? THE GHOST OF GARUDA IN HER FEATURES? he blinks rapidly, that edge he'd possessed previously tumbling from his grasp as he does a double take. it's in that smile of hers; all teeth and malintent. he takes a step back and tenses, as though he were expecting her to transform as she had during their battle ... but no. he's looking at the shell of a woman, after all. within him he can feel garuda's faint pull, scratching furiously at the cage of his ribs and letting forth a nasty howl. he wills her away, and a surge of warmth fills his chest — ifrit? he can feel the fire eikon's discontent, fire filling his veins. clive has to close his eyes and will both away, stance relaxing as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" shut up. " he grits out. " i'm no more blind than you are naive. founder knows why cid let you roam free about the hideaway. but make no mistake: you have no allies here. not until you prove yourself. and you're doing a shit job of it. " clive's nose crinkles as he speaks, part of him realizing the irony of his words: she was exactly like him when he joined the hideaway.

the branded man goes silent then, crossing his arms firmly across his chest and looking away. benedikta continues to spit venom at him, and he soaks it in, much to his chagrin. the rage that had been billowing within him begins to dissipate; the more she talks, the more he hears himself in her words.

it would seem they were two peas in a pod, whether he liked it or not.

damn it all.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ" ... you're not dead. " he says, finally. looking at her through his fringe, clive sighs. " founder above, i can't believe i'm saying this, but no: i did not take pride in my victory. it was only a means of realizing my worst nightmare. " that familiar burn in his veins returns, a dull ache finding its way back into his temples. away with you, monster. ifrit responds in kind by burning hotter, and he winces. " garuda may have been your everything, but that eikon — ifrit — took everything from me. my home, my family, my ... my life. "

[benydikta]

𝚂𝙷𝙴'𝚂 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙴𝙽 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾; 𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃-𝙼𝙾𝙾𝙽, 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺.        in-between two lungs, under the shadow of five broken ribs, the sound of beating wings whistles through the splinters and comes back out empty. benedikta is vacant: no one's home. swaying, tumbleweed      ━    a flowering dandelion that's scattered all its seeds.        ‘‘  naive,  ’’      she repeats, garbled, and laughter pitter patters between her sides, doesn't quite make its way out. it hurts too much.        ‘‘  why would i bother?  ’’      

        there's nothing to rebuild. just cid's skin beneath her fingernails and the wailing in her throat, no harpy, but a marred facsimile; it's grisly and human but her body has out-grown her when it had rebuilt around a wild animal.         ‘‘  you think i don't know that? that i'm not living on the grace of that bastard cidolfus' guilt? ’’      he hadn't said a thing even when his blood was scarlet in the wood beneath them. only held and held and held, as though he had been waiting to.         ‘‘ there's no point. i'll never fit in here. this dream of his is the thing that's naive.  ’’      

        a world not built on power? benedikta is not a fool. it's only a matter of time before this alcove of fantasy dissipates and stamps out budding life. the weak don't have a place and now she's one of them.         ‘‘  i am dead!  ’’      benedikta screams at clive. it bursts out of her body, the shrapnel of a bomb exploding.         ‘‘  don't you get it? what ifrit did to you, you did to me!  ’’      a cough rattles around inside her. it comes out wet.         fuck. fuck. fuck!         ‘‘  you don't get to act like you understand a thing. i was supposed to die there.  ’’      it tumbles out, shuddering:         ‘‘  i wanted you to kill me.  ’’      

        there wasn't supposed to be an after. no dulling her edges, no making-do with the cataclysm of her in a puzzle that wasn't ever meant to accommodate; a left-over piece. she hates this world. she hates herself more. and clive couldn't do the one thing he was supposed to do.

[promptfairy]

❥     𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝟑𝟓𝟖/𝟐 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 ( 𝟏.𝟓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐗 )   (   𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟑   )    [   𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂    ]   .

change gendered language   &   add context to your needs . happy roleplaying !!  ♡

“   are you really sure that you don’t have a heart ??   ” “   i can give you purpose .   ” “   man ,   i miss the old times .   ” “   bet you don’t know why the sun sets red .   ” “   like i asked ,   know - it - all .   ” “   you worried about the new kid ??   ” “   you said the same exact thing the other day .   ” “   i don’t even know what a heart is .   ” “   i have to keep fighting the darkness .   so i can be whole .   ” “   c’mon ,   let’s get some ice cream .   ” “   i’m gonna be away for a while ,   starting tomorrow .   ” “   i wish somebody told me these things .   ” “   find them ,   &   dispose of them .   ” “   this place is so much nicer without the loudmouths .   ” “   you earned the icing on the cake .   ” “   this is such a great spot   . . .   how’d you find it ??   ” “   we’re not even supposed to   ‘  be  ’   in the first place .   ” “   he looks a lot like you .   ” “   my name is of no importance .   ” “   i hope that you can join me next time .   ” “   what’s the matter ??   you look like you’ve seen a ghost .   ” “   you had me worried .   ” “   i guess i just needed a little time to sort out my feelings ,   you know ??   ” “   what ,   not even   one little word   of appreciation ??    ” “   good to see you made it back safe .   ” “   i moved things along just the way you wanted .   ” “   he must’ve rubbed off on me .   ” “   friends need to lean on each other every now   &   then .   ” “   just eat your ice cream .   ” “   best friends are different from plain friends ,   right ??   ” “   let us remember why we are here   &   what we hope to achieve .   ” “   all this fighting   . . .   i wonder what it’s for .   ” “   i just don’t see why having a heart is that important .   ” “   i think i’ve always been pretty much the same .   ” “   i wonder what kind of guy i was before   . . .   ” “   i thought you said you were tough .   ” “   buy me one   &   we’ll call it even .   ” “   i hope we can always be just like this forever .   ” “   well   . . .   nothing lasts forever ,   you know ??   ” “   wow ,   that was   so   not you .   ” “   ever heard of knocking ??   what do you want   ??   ” “   i can handle all the dirty work .   ” “   i knew you’d be here .   ” “   i hope we get another vacation soon .   ” “   i’m not going to tell you   all   my dark secrets .   ” “   you’re letting yourself get too attached .   ” “   you know   . . .   you’ve changed .   ” “   just give me another chance .   ”

“   you were a mistake i never should have made .   ” “   is there anything you couldn’t bear to lose ??   ” “   it’s scary to think of what it would be like without you .   ” “   you can’t fight fire with sparks .   ” “   find a new crowd .   trust me ,   those guys are bad news .   ” “   sorry   . . .   my mind’s on other things .   ” “   do you ever think about why we’re doing all of this ??   ” “   just be straight with me for once ,   will you ??   ” “   did you bring me these seashells ??   ” “   keep your mouth shut .   ” “   does the past mean nothing to you ??   ” “   don’t scare me like that anymore .   ” “   maybe you’re not completely well yet .   ” “   it almost sounds as though you know .   ” “   who am i ??   what am i here for ??   ” “   you made me a promise .   ” “   i’m sorry   . . .   i’m not sure i’ve kept my promise very well .   ” “   am i not supposed to exist ??   ” “   what would it take for me to be like you ??   ” “   to be honest ,   i’m not even sure today really happened .   ” “   since when do you ever worry about me ??   ” “   it’s just not the same without all three of us .   ” “   i’m nothing more than a puppet .   ” “   do you hate me for taking your friend away from you ??   ” “   how will i know where i belong ,   truly ??   ” “   the answer you come up with can’t just be right for   you .   ” “   well ,   we’ve had our share of drama lately .   ” “   i know we’ve seen a lot of sunsets ,   but today’s puts them all to shame .   ” “   if we ran ,   i bet we could always be together .   ” “   i think you know what needs to be done .   ” “   stop pretending .   ” “   why is it that you always have to glare at me like that ??   ” “   i’m asking you   why   you did that ,   &   you know it .   ” “   you’re not making any sense .   ” “   if only the whispers at the top carried to the bottom .   ” “   can you at least try not to harm her ??   ” “   could it be that you’ve known this whole time   &   not told me anything ??   ” “   i’ve been searching for a way to conquer the darkness within me .   ” “   you don’t have to worry about me .   ” “   best friends are supposed to be   honest   with each other !!   ” “   finding out the truth doesn’t always work out for the best .   ” “   if i can’t get answers here ,   i’ll get them somewhere else .   ” “   no one would miss me .   ” “   everybody thinks they’re right   . . .   ” “   you think you can do whatever you want   . . .   well ,   i’m   sick   of it .   ” “   i’ll always be there to bring you back .   ” “   why you gotta cause me so much trouble   . . . ??   ” “   am i the one who did this to you ??   ” “   why are you trying to stop me ??   ” “   i can’t let you go do anything crazy .   ”

[glacierites]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓. dull and cold, with a stroke of familiarity. the distance between shiva's frost and garuda's wind is great, yet memories of the past connects them like fog amidst the breeze. no longer was she the helpless slave girl who once followed you like a shadow : hopeless and naive, she was a reflection of what you could have been ( what you once were ) had you stayed within the iron. ❝ i wonder ... perhaps it has simply been so long. but, i know things are different than they were before. ❞ o' without a doubt, the years had been unkind to her —— but you ? she wished for your happiness, as ardently as you sought freedom. ❝ did you ever end up doing the things you said you wanted to do ? eat the things you missed, bought the outfits you wanted to wear ? ❞

[benydikta]

𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴'𝚂 𝙶𝚄𝙸𝙻𝚃, 𝚂𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙸𝙽 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙷; the skin of a plum, the rind of a lemon, the way her face tries desperately not to pucker, crumpling. benedikta sucks a breath in and her mouth is dry. all her words stick.        ‘‘ i did all those things, jill, and more. i was at the helm of a kingdom. ’’        benedikta smiles and its like the sun setting.       ‘‘ you couldn't even begin to imagine the splendor. my role took me all over the continent. ’’     what a farce of a former intelligencer she is: it takes the full weight of her breath to keep her voice sharp, over-confident and indulgent, just as she would've told a story with her back pressed against volcanic stone. is jill still listening? does it matter? she is embittered and broken and has done nothing suitable with the freedom they both craved. it makes benedikta's lungs wet.        ‘‘ happy now? ’’        

[lucidloving]

@heavensghost // Erin Moran, "940 Main Street" // Jason Schneiderman, "Little Red Riding Wolf" // @mah_hirano on tw // Adrienne Rich, "Planetarium" // Richard Siken, Editor's Pages: Black Telephone // Molly McCully Brown, Places I've Taken my Body: Essays // @loputyn // Mason O'Hern, "You Are Not Just Anything" // Friedrich Nietzsche, Good and Evil