ghosts of you

Dead, but not really. Alive, but not really. The young prince Rasler of Nabradia, fallen and broken. Just a ghost who is still breathing.

[aegisol-deactivated20260603]

Even in death our love goes on

[rygars-butt]

[imperialscamp-deactivated201509]

           “Welcome to Archades, Ser Rasler. It really is a plea-           sure to see you! The Queen Ashelia has told me all           about your recovery.” He could not imagine what it           would have been like, but judging by Ashe’s feelings           in her letters and before all the mess in Lemurés, she           was in deep pain.

[knightofthesunset-blog]

He is so young - that is the first thing the knight thinks when he see the new emperor. Painfully young... his eyes are still soft, as is his heart for he is meeting the former prince of Nabradia and can still smile. Young emperor Larsa has naught on him of his deceased brother, nevertheless, Rasler does not know if he can answer with the same kind of smile.

They killed him and his city and poisoned his lands until not even ghosts want to live there.

No! He could not think that way. That boy did naught of that. 

Still...

“You have my thanks, sire.” He says and makes a light bow toward the other. “For receiving me here. Ashe... Ashe also talks about you with fondness.”

[knightofthesunset-blog]

Half of this blog is “Ashe” the other is “pain”. I feel like I’m roleplaying Sakura Card Captor, idk “Ai ai ai Yukito” Feels.

[cosmic-sonder]

But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.

James Joyce (via cosmic-sonder)

[knightofthesunset-blog]

} Shall we? {

[herrebelmajesty-blog]

It is aught but simple. Rasler, her dead husband, had become a matter that belonged to her heart and the fond memories of those who survived to carry on with the legacy of Nabradia. The man living inside palace walls, however, is a matter of state. Though not the first in the line of succession, he is now the only heir to a usurped land with a fallen capital. Should people know of him, they might revolt; and though she is more than willing to support his every claim, it is not so simple. Not in times of peace, with Kingdom and Empires still testing their ground. The matter is not hers to decide, however — at least not by herself.  It is of utmost importance that they see it settled, for even those walls have ears and whisper a language of their own, the quiet murmur of gossip spreading like poison ivy. And thus she invites him to join her for the first time since he came back to her life. It does not come even close to what he deserves — what she understands he should have —, but grief still weights in her heart. When his gaze meets hers with the offer of an arm, they are back to their wedding day. To a time of promises when they would see nothing but the future they should fight for. Now they live feeding of the crumbs of the past. “You once said…” She pauses, hesitating before touching his arm. As if the mere gesture would have him vanish like the ghost who once haunted her days. But her eyes find his again, and she knows she can trust him that much. “You said there was no need for such formalities between us. Do not think I forgot.” Her clothes bear the same whites she wore when they first met as a betrothed couple, her skin bathed in the same oils. She hasn’t forgotten a single thing. “We must talk, Rasler.” He is the one to offer an arm, but it is her to guide their walk through the corridors. 

[knightofthesunset-blog]

His name on her voice has the same sound of distant waves on a distant ocean he saw only when he was a small boy, beyond the far lands of Rozarria. It bears secret softly spoken, hides meanings only both of them would understand. It is not just his name, is a pray and an entire conversation.

Just a single word, yet...

Her skin is warm against his fingertips, he can feel her heart beating on the back of her hand, and the faint smell of sandalwood is a comfort to whichever words his widow wants to share with him. She smells the same, feels the same, even in her voice is far from the gentle and sweet tune of the past. She is the same, just stronger.

(and he loves her, he loves her, he loves her...

                                                         and dare not to say these words. He hides them on his throat, hold it behind his tongue, they taste acid and acrid but he holds it and say naught, has no right to say anything to her.

 For he loves her.)

“I know.” Is his answer, firm and gentle, full of a certainty he does not feel inside. “We need to speak about me. About us... You have more on your mind, more to consider than just a single husband made alive again. You carry the weight of an entire kingdom and thousand lives. I cannot ask more of you than what you have already give me. If we must speak, it must be on your terms, for your interests, to solve your problems. I am not nearly as important as all the people of Dalmasca.”

He loves her as he walks with her.

[lyricasaurus]

Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey

[yaichiiiiii-deactivated20150814]

[knightofthesunset-blog]

} Behind her eyes {

[lacedaether]

If only her pain were so straight forward. The dead weight that she carries with her is a much more complicated thread, each connecting to various points which cause acute suffering. To be a widow would be much simpler, so much easier to explain and be understood, for at least she would not be alone in her suffering. But it is her burden to carry, and speaking of it will not make it lighter to bear, no, why claw up the earth of old wounds?

It is peaceful in this ornate place, the only sound reaching her ears are that of faraway footfalls of people moving around in some unseen section of the building. And though the prince should have made quite the racket given the armour he wore, it is not that which alerted her to his presence.

A sensation, a prickling of the skin, a burning behind the eye which had long since lost the gift of sight and veiled in midnight, that is what draws her gaze to him long before he speaks. Perhaps it is the fates, or perhaps it is something else entirely? She wouldn’t like to say. But if his intention had been not for her to hear him, she would say nothing in regards to it. 

❝Well enough… and you?❞

[knightofthesunset-blog]

A myriad of pain, suffering and misery paints the world around him, sounding as little bells in the wind and composing a requiem for someone who died but was still alive and for every misery all the people under the same sun was suffering with him. As the coloured glass that once Nabradia was proud to make, every bead a new pain of different colour, different nature, making different sounds.

Which song of which colour her tragedy would make? For only someone who suffered would carry herself in such manner, grave and  solemn. She is not alone on that palace, nevertheless. Can she feel it as he feels it? Can she hear the song his own tragedy makes? Many ghosts haunt that place, he isn’t the only one.

Notwithstanding, he locks up all this bittersweet symphony and makes a little curtsey towards her, his cloak following the move. She is a guest inside his queen’s halls and deserves respect and not a cacophony of troubles.

With a nod and a small smile he answer her question. Nothing more and nothing less to say about how he is faring these days.

“At least today I shall not ask forgiveness for stumbling over you on the streets.” He almost laughs, too light and too airily to be honest. “Still, I shall beg your pardon for not asking for your name nor give you mine before. Rasler Heios Nabradia.” He says with another bow, his own name feels heavy on his tongue as if he is no more that person. Is he?

[knightofthesunset-blog]

Starter Call

Like this for a starter!

[knightofthesunset-blog]

} Behind her eyes {

blackmage-lulu

He sees her again in his own palace. Still dressed in black as one of the many widows in the streets of Dalmasca, but she is no widow of that country, of this he is sure. The sorrow and the loneliness behind the eyes of the women who lost a loved one don’t shadow her eyes. Instead, there is something deeper and darker there, as for what, he cannot and dare not to say. A secret is a secret is a secret... every lady is entitled to carry her own secrets. 

(Even his wife, whose eyes are full of sorrow and saudade. A foreign word for a foreign feeling on a woman whose dead husband is still alive.)

Is she a friend of Ashe? Is she a guest? When they met on the streets, he did not even catch her name nor did he said he was the prince consort and not just a lost man in the fair, among all the living people.

“Is the wishes of the fates we meet again?” His voice is so low she can barely make out his words. Then, a little louder, he smiles a broken smile toward her, the only kind of smiles he knows for now. “How are you faring this afternoon, my lady?”

[knightofthesunset-blog]

} Shall we? {

herrebelmajesty

Anxious as he is inside, not even a hair is out of place in the outside. Born from kings, he is more than used to social gatherings and events such as the one his queen had invited him to escort her. How could he deny the first thing she asked of him? A chance to be with her as a normal and even silly couple, which they never had time to be, even before. He would do anything for a simple chance of being near her, of breathing the same air without Ashelia’s eyes roaming over him and seeing a ghost of past tragedies. He would do anything.

The fair cambric gown he wears is soft against his skin, light as a thought, embroided in gold with red finery on its sleeves. It has naught of the heavy weight of his usual armor; clothes he had not used for a long time, nevertheless, he feels more human and more alive without all that weight down on his shoulders. He would wear his gown with pride, a mantle to envelope his body and turn him in something more than a ghost haunting her palaces.

Is the faint smell of sandalwood to tell him she is near and he breathes on it, closes his eyes and loose himself on the reverie of her presence. When he opens his eyelids again, she is so near he can almost feel the fabric of her sleeves against his skin. So, so near…

“Shall we go, my lady?” He says, softly, offering his arm.

[knightofthesunset-blog]

} knights {

daughterofeorzea

She is there with an entourage from another country. Many of them passed for those corridors, seeking an alliance or simply wishing to know more about the new queen of Dalmasca. That woman comes with a group of knights and he don’t know what to do about her for she is different from the others seeking to understand how Dalmasca won a war against the Archadian Empire.

There is something more about that woman even if he cannot say what. Something akin to his own queen, something on her eyes.

As the commander of Dalmasca forces and the prince consort, he is the first to welcome the visitors. Quiet as an spectre, he let them pass by him, smiling when is adequate and giving leave to the others soldiers to befriend them. It’s only when the woman pass by him that he truly says something more than automatic answers for automatic diplomatic questions.

“Welcome to Dalmasca, my lady.”

[aseaofquotes]

Jenny Han, It’s Not Summer Without You

[knightofthesunset-blog]

Starter Call

Like this for a starter!

[fuckyeahanimecouples]

[finalfantasyunleashed]

Everyone Welcome Larsa!

“Though I lack your power, I will still persist.”

Sue for peace with Larsa here, kupo!