Storm And Ash

An indie RP blog for various characters from Final Fantasy XVI. Sideblog to phoenixfiiire. Please read all rules prior to interaction.

[stormandash]

Storm and Ash: An indie FFXVI multimuse feat: Terence Galeas and others.

Written by Benji. Sideblog to @phoenixfiiire.

RULES | ABOUT | SHIPPING | MEMES

Muses beneath the cut:

BARNABAS | TERENCE | SYLVESTRE | KIHEL | GREAGOR | MICHAL (PROCEED WITH CAUTION/TW APPLY)

[stormandash]

As a reminder, this blog is no longer active! Everything has been moved to @agloryofuniicorns!

If responding to any asks from this blog, please either delete them or tag @agloryofuniicorns or else I will not see them.

I will queue and reblog this post for awhile!

[stormandash]

@hisdxrkshixld from [x]

Barnabas' eyes narrowed at Clive as he paced around him. Slowly, steadily, confidently. The man in front of him was weak and pathetic. He was no Mythos, no matter how many times Ultima insisted on laying that title on his shoulders. He had barely been able to best Sleipnir, a being that was little more than a fragment of Barnabas' true power.

He had been told not to kill Mythos. He was needed for his God's plans to reach fruition. But why allow such a miserable pathetic man to live?

Darkness swirled around the length of the Zantetsuken as his gaze shifted to the blade almost contemplatively. "Tell me, Mythos, why I should not end your life in this moment?"

[dragonliiight]

This was now a careful game of mental chess. He could not let even a single inch slip or he would pay the price. Terence could not be given over to his father for several reasons, the most pressing being that he was an unbranded bearer. Terence was much more thoughtful about his magic usage now, but even the slightest accidental slip up could cause problems. Secondly, he just simply didn't want Terence to be pulled from the front lines to serve his father.

His father was a difficult man to deal with even on the best of days.

"I believe your life is best protected by keeping Sanbreque's enemies at bay. Therefore, Terence's strengths are best used on the battlefield."

[stormandash]

This mental battle between the two of them could continue indefinitely, but one of them would have to concede. Certainly that should not have been the Emperor, but in truth he did not really want to rip the Dragoon away from his son. He had simply been testing to see just how far he could push Dion without him breaking.

His resolve was firm. As it should be. He was the Dominant of Bahamut, and he needed to be the strong, powerful protector of Sanbreque. Had he slipped up, then it would have been clear he was not worthy of the power he wielded.

That did not mean that Sylvestre intended to simply go gentle on Dion now.

"If you insist." He was relenting, but Dion should know better than to breath easily.

"It will come time soon to discuss the prospect of marriage. Bastard though you may be, your blood still holds that of Bahamut. One should be arranged between yourself and a woman of a suitable family to ensure the bloodline does not end."

[defiant-ex-soldiers]

Mateo had known hardship since the day he was taken, or maybe given, away as a child. Since he'd been brought to the Badbach Conservatory.

Life as a bearer wasn't easy, especially on the continent of Ash.

When Mateo had managed to break free, a fire had been lit in him, one that was only fed by seeing the mistreatment that bearers undergo on a daily basis, even outside of Ash.

Even though he'd fallen into the hands of others as their Bearers, he waited, and stewed in the anger he felt. He suffered the way Bearers did and witnessed others suffering too.

Now he found himself leading a small band of bearers, formerly under the command of a man Mateo had cared a lot about. He'd used his powers to help free other bearers and because of that, he turned to crystal, passing the mantle on. Mateo swore he'd uphold the man's mission and he wouldn't rest until he'd freed every bearer, or he'd turn to crystal doing so, and he'd pass the mantle on to someone else.

Now here Mateo stood, locking weapons with the second in command of the dragoons, bruises littering his face and a scowl on his lips. He'd expected the dragoons to interfere, but he hadn't expected Terence himself to show up.

'Sanbreque property' the very notion made him sick, that others could look at these people and see only property.

Around him, he could hear the sounds of his fighters clashing weapons with the other dragoons. Mateo didn't want to kill anyone if they could help it. The mission was just to get the bearers and get out, but there were always complications.

Mateo locked eyes with Terence. Behind him, two kids huddled together, a little girl and a boy who looked a little older. Mateo knew they were scared of what might happen next.

He'd protect them with everything he had. Bearer children had their whole lives ahead of them, they were the ones that could truly know freedom.

"If you want these people you'll have to go through me, and I'm not backing down without a fight."

He knew he was outmatched in skill by the Dragoon, but Mateo had the kind of toughness people only get by having them beaten into them, and he was trained in the art of swordsmanship by the previous leader. He wasn't afraid of fighting dirty either, something he couldn't see his opponent doing.

Regardless, he was going to give it everything he got.

[stormandash]

He didn't want to be doing this. And that didn't matter at all.

Part of Terence was screaming for himself to stop. Even as he moved, spear swiping low before a leg kicked out to either sweep the man's feet out from under him or to knock him back, there was a part of him that felt sick and frozen over what he was doing. What he was saying. He knew bearers were people better than most. He didn't want to treat them like disposable tools that were used and then tossed aside.

That was what had happened to his sister and had led to her death. He had held her as her body crumbled into ash in his arms, and the pain and rage from that day both still lurked beneath his skin. He would never forgive them, not those who had done that to her nor those who made this treatment institutionalized.

But nothing would change if he rebelled now. Prince Dion's own efforts would be hamstrung and it would be Terence's fault, and he would never forgive himself for that.

"If this is what I must do, then I will." He didn't know the man in front of him. It had to be simply business between them. Still, as Terence's gaze fell to the two children huddled behind the man, he found himself hesitating as his grip tightened on his spear. A boy and a girl. Siblings, no doubt.

His gaze flicked back to the man, crouching for just a moment before jumping far higher than any man ever should have been able to - and yet it was common place for any Imperial Dragoon.

[dragonliiight]

His body felt heavy, like his limbs might have been made of lead. For once in a very long time, he felt safe, like he was back in the arms of the wet nurse who had actually been his mother. His eyes slipped shut thinking of the delicate tresses of golden hair that he would tuck a marigold into.

He slept for an unknown amount of time, but when he awoken his first instinct was to reach for a lance that he had lost sight of in the chaos. He didn't know where he was, or if that strange figure of light was still around, but trying to move was a bit much at the moment.

"H...Hello?" He called out quietly, afraid that if he was too loud he would rouse the enemy. However, maybe the woman was still here. Was she all just a figment of his imagination...?

[stormandash]

Greagor hadn't been surprised with Dion had finally succumbed to his exhaustion. There had been the thought to pull him onto her lap if only to try to offer him something a little more comfortable than the ground to rest his head upon, but she chose against those feelings. Instead she stood watch to ensure no one came close while also picking his weapon up and cleaning it to prevent any stains from settling in.

The sound of his voice had her turning. Greagor had not gone far, and it was only a few short steps for her to return to his side. She knelt down again before reaching out to place a hand against one of his own in hopes that the gesture would be viewed as comforting, and not as a strange foreboding threat.

"You're safe." It was like the first concern on his mind, and the one she wanted to reassure him of most of all. "None but us are here. Your wounds should have been healed as well, though you may still feel some stiffness in your body. Can you move?"

[dragonliiight]

He had been trying to be helpful, but in the most teenager way possible she was refusing any type of help. He could see the twinge of embarrassment blooming across her cheeks and he knew better than to push further. Dion had also been like that once upon a time... Hadn't he?

Perhaps duty had kept him from acting out in the ways a teenager should have been allowed to. It was a little sad to dwell on, so he chose not to think too deeply about it.

Dion was caught off guard by her follow up question before laughing almost sheepishly. "Er... it might be a bit early to be thinking about that. I did some not great things to Terence I should... make up for before I even attempt to ask for his hand in marriage."

[stormandash]

Oh, so that had caught him off guard. Dion did a poor job at trying to cover up his feelings, and the sudden shift in conversation had slipped under his skin and surprised him. Kihel grinned, eyes sparkling now that she had been able to locate his weakness. Perhaps if she was a better, kinder 'daughter' she would have backed off with her point made - but she was not, and would not.

"You think it'd be better to live out your days in sin with him instead? That's so shameful. He was a proper Knight once. Sir Terence. Now he has to lay down in sin every time he beds you."

She was a child, yes, but one who had been raised in the slums of whatever city her path led her to. She wasn't innocent in the sense that she lacked the knowledge of what happened between two people behind closed doors, be it man and woman or man and man or... even woman and woman. Kihel also knew that this had to've been happening long before now as well - but she'd still tease him.

"Maybe making it up to him would be asking for his hand. Did you think of that?"

[dragonliiight]

"They don't. It's stolen property," Dion said quietly. He didn't hide his views from Terence, but he sheepishly corrected himself. Dion was a bad liar most days. It had been ingrained in him that lying was just bad and he shouldn't do it. It caused him a lot of problems usually.

Terence looked upset, and he had good reason to be. Terence made it clear that this was the fate that had befallen his sister, and one that could have befallen him had Dion chosen another, less kind path.

"This would be the tenth in about two weeks," Dion explained. It was unlikely the locals would be of much help. Even if he was the prince, the outer villages viewed people from the capital with disdain. Any investigation would likely be stone walled. Most out here even viewed Bahamut as a bearer with status. An abomination. They were at least lucky enough to get lodgings for the night...

[stormandash]

He wasn't upset with Dion. Dion was only giving him the information that Terence himself had asked for. He was glad that the Prince wasn't trying to withhold something from him out of fear of upsetting Terence; it was something that would have come up eventually regardless, and his potential reaction if this clarification was given by anyone else might have accidentally... revealed too much. At least now he was able to try to process the anger he felt and let it go.

"Ten." In two weeks? The number for such a small village felt outrageous. Why would they even need that many. "And none of them have been found so far?"

Or were they found... dead.

In a twisted way, Terence hoped it would be the latter. At least then they wouldn't have to suffer under the rule of another any further. Their lives would have been cut short, but they would be free. If they were just missing, it was likely that someone else was making use of them.

Their accommodations should have been an inn but, after being directed to a small and dirty stable that they could use to house their wyverns, the message became clear to Terence. Here, in the filth, that was where they could sleep for the night.

His jaw tightened as his grip on Vrtra's reins tightened for a moment before Terence held them out for Dion to take. "Hold them, your highness. I'll clean out the stalls for them." And they would likely simply sleep outside then.

[hautevaux]

There was an art form to resisting clenching one's jaw without actually clenching ones jaw; to bottling the agitation and all the words one wanted to say to instead offer a smile and words of flattery.

"No, your highness. We employ no bearers here at all. Everything handled and made is done so by skilled hands." Hands, in fact, that had studied just as long and as hard as Vaux himself; some had even been trained by him. Young though Vaux was, he had been determined - and with perfectly good skill came such pure intent that he had reached the heights he had always wanted. And now - - he had royalty within. Either way, once word got around that the Emperor had entered Vaux's store, business would grow tenfold.

"If his highness would like to tell me what he seeks, we can start drawing up." Time was not on their side, after all, and the sooner a design was confirmed the sooner that Vaux would be able to construct such a request.

[stormandash]

The man's response was more than enough to satisfy the Emperor. Even if it was not the case, it was clear he had no desire to truly research the matter himself. Such things were, after all, beneath him. The work of the common folk, something that he did not have to worry himself over.

The actual discussion of what he was looking for came and went. Sylvestre could hardly say he was any sort of pioneer of fashion, but when the future Emperor of Sanbreque was born he could only be wearing an outfit worthy of the occasion.

The outfit needed to be completed in a day's time. The payment being offered was - in his opinion - more than sufficient to ensure that.

"I will be back tomorrow come dawn to pick up my clothes." His tone was curt, leaving no room for Vaux to argue. And it would be him; he would see this completed personally. "I expect they will be finished."

[goddessofliiight]

It was rare for her to meet an existence like her own. This one was one who truly understood the pain of watching the people she so desperately loved brought to ruin time and time again

"All you can do is guide them and hope they will make the right choices in the end. It's exhausting, but it is also our cross to bear."

[stormandash]

She smiled at those words. It was bittersweet, etched with the memory of so much suffering that was held together by twin beliefs: that she had been the start of this, and that it was still the path that mankind needed to walk. Perhaps their lives would have been filled with less pain and misery had she not severed their connection to the magic of Ultima, but they would have been little more than sheep waiting for the slaughter.

It was not your decision to make. Perhaps, but it was the decision she had made all the same.

"They will never understand." They could never understand. Their lives were a fleeting fragment of a moment compared to the endless existence that divinity had given them. They could see so little and could only think of themselves and what they felt, not of how the world and the universe would continue on long after they had passed.

"They worship me, but only in the name of ensuring there is a man who retains power. At times I wish I could appear before them and speak the truth, but I know it wouldn't be worth even the moment of joy I would feel."

Her gaze shifted over to the other woman. Unlike her, she could sense that she had been made Divine from the start, not turned into one from the power of another. In turn, they treated her even worse.

[phoenixbound]

@stormandash | continued from here [x]

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃? His question echoed in her skull in unison with the rapid beat of her heart. When she had teased him, she had not expected Barnabas to prove her wrong and instead merely glare at her before leaving the room. His kiss lingered on her lips even after he had pulled away way too quickly for her taste and despite her best efforts to hide it by covering her lower half of her face with her hand, the crimson shimmer on her nose and her cheeks could hardly be concealed. Her heart burnt and something she had never felt before started moving within her stomach. Was she satisfied now that he had kissed her?

Could she leave in the knowledge how his lips tasted? " No, " she muttered before reaching out for his face and cup his cheeks with less tender gesture than familiar from a woman such as her. She pulled him closer to her face almost desperately and caught his lips with her own while pressing her body against his. This was wrong. She was dishonouring herself by deeds like these, and how would she ever be able to look Elwin into his face if she was let go eventually? Ladies did not find themselves in arms of other kings—or other men for that matter. Unless they were one of many mistresses, and certainly she had too much pride to give herself away to him like that.

[stormandash]

Was the act of kissing a fascinating topic in Rosaria? Did the Rosarians practice it? Was it something that those who ruled, the Dukes and the Duchesses and the lords and the ladies, took great pride in? He did not consider himself entirely... unknowing when it came to the lands beyond Ash, but he had never delved that deep into the intricacies of Rosarian customs.

Perhaps there was something he had missed. If so, he was not sure if he was meant to try to... study in order to appease Anabella.

Anabella herself was a woman of great pride. She rarely let a moment go by where she was not reminding him of just who she was. Barnabas did not mind it; those who held power had no reason not to assert it, and she had done more than enough to prove herself worthy of the titles she claimed. She had always seemed to be beyond the needs of the flesh, and in turn Barnabas had ensured his gaze did not linger and his thoughts did not wander. She was the mother of Mythos. She was no common whore and he would not stand to have her treated as such.

And yet here she was, both demanding to be kissed before kissing him in turn.

It was on instinct that one arm moved to curl around her waist, pulling her body again against his own as he kissed her back - heated and aching with a need Barnabas was still struggling to ignore. It could not last forever, and when it finally broke he glared down at her. "What are you playing at?" Was this a test? A way to see if he would treat her just like any other woman?

[oultima]

@stormandash

It was all for nothing…..

Each labor, each plan, and each task meant nothing in the end. The collective was gone, merging into one to face Mythos with full strength, sacrificing their consciousness to keep the earth from the mortals that dared try to steal it but in the end it was for naught. Pain raged inside as the deity began to fade away, staring daggers at his vessel that bested him, who had surpassed him.

It was the end…the thing he feared, the thing that ruined his home and consumed his people. Those memories never eroded with time, steadfast in the god’s mind, to keep him focused on the goal. Humanity was his tool, he created them and they in turn rebelled against him like a rowdy child. It was all too much. It was too bitter and Ultima didn’t want to die.

Death wouldn’t claim him that day.

—

Ultima awoke with a shock. Senses he never had or forgot rushed him. He felt restricted and contained in a body that wasn’t his nor the form he was used to. The first thing he noticed was the loud beating in his head. A heartbeat? A heart? There wasn’t one in his body so why did he feel one now? Out of a strange sense of instinct, he felt his arm rise into his line of sight and there was indeed his arm but it was that of a mortal hand, pink and flesh and with a sense of touch. Mortal senses were intense and overwhelming.

The second thing the felled deity noticed was the temperature of the room. Before, he never felt it, he didn’t have a nervous system like a mortal but it was painful and his body shivered. It was cold but not just cold, it was freezing. There was mist as he breathed, it felt like winter. Despite the bitter cold he felt he managed to sit up and gather his surroundings. It was a familiar place.

Stained glass windows of blues and greens lit the room in a dull light of dancing colors. From what he could tell, the sky was gray. There was an all too familiar altar by those windows and memories of speaking with Odin flashed into his mind. Ultima realized he was in the cathedral in Barnabas’s castle. The question was how did he obtain a mortal form? It wasn’t his doing nor intention.

The cathedral looked unused and Ultima managed to stand and began to walk awkwardly towards the window. Mortal bodies were so inconvenient, so sluggish and slow. A part of him missed the ability to float instead of walking but he sensed little to no power within him. Not that a mortal could wield such divine magic to begin with. The man looked through a clear piece of stained glass and indeed he was in Odin’s castle. The sky was gray and it was snowing lightly.

It was the winter months now? That gave Ultima some idea how much time passed since his defeat at the hands of Mythos. The deity turned mortal stepped away and moved awkwardly still towards a side chamber. If he recalled, it was a storage room, there had to be something there to cover up with and get warm.

After rummaging through the room he managed to find a blanket and a small mirror. Moving back into the main chamber where the light was the brightest, Ultima finally gazed into the mirror to see a mortal’s reflection. A fair looking man with white hair that reached just passed his shoulders and with light blue eyes. It was both odd and infuriating that he was trapped in such a body that barely reflected his own features. How did this happen? Why did it happen?

Nothing would be answered by lingering in a freezing cathedral, he thought. So he walked towards the exit and headed towards the main part of the castle. He would seek out Barnabas’s chambers to find proper clothing and light a fire. The man was dead after all. It wasn’t like he was going to use them now.

Ultima grew tired easily. This body barely had any stamina. It was also smaller and leaner in comparison to Odin. How mortals were able to walk everywhere was baffling. Again, he missed his power to fly, it was easy and quicker than walking in the steps of man. After what felt like hours, only being a handful of minutes, the former god finally reached the bed chamber of the king.

[stormandash]

There had been many things that Barnabas had not been certain of in his life of late.

It would have come as a surprise to many. Perhaps even himself. That was the power of humanity, was it not? The power of belief, of the strength of will? The ability to truly convince oneself of a truth that simply was not real. To be able to buy into a reality that was false, no matter how much one would wish it to be otherwise.

He had believed himself to be unfeeling, and so his emotions had started to melt into a twisting, muddled miasma. He had believed himself to be King of Ash and so he had become so - the King of nothing, the King of a broken, scattered people. He had believed in the vision of Ultima and the prophecy of Mythos and so he had thrown everything on that altar in the hopes of seeing it come true.

Whether or not it had, there would never be a way for him to know. Because in the quest for his belief, Barnabas Tharmr had... died.

And then he had... not.

The act of breathing came without thought, as did the act of opening his eyes. Both came with sensation, of cold air and soft sheets and of an ache in his body from where the curse of the crystal had finally overtaken him and tried to swallow him whole. All it took was a simple glance to confirm that there was naught amiss with his form; even the scars that should have littered his form were gone. It was if he had been reborn anew, and while others might have felt joy at this, Barnabas felt a strange twist in his stomach. It was a familiar one that he had learned to ignore long ago, but the missing fervor of his belief made it harder to ignore now.

Barnabas would have dwelled on the pit of anxiety twisting at his stomach longer if the doors to his chamber were not opened. The King (could he be a King without a people?) stood, uncaring to his nude form. A hand moved to grasp at - nothing, fingers closing around air where a hilt should have been.

The man that entered his room was unfamiliar and someone he knew intimately, and Barnabas could not place him.

"Who are you?" No mention or notice was made toward the other's... matching state of dress.

[speargifted]

He knelt, and endured the slow saturation of his hair. He was perfectly capable of cleaning himself off but he was sure this was a form of punishment. Part of him wanted to believe that this was being done out of care, but there was no part left of his younger innocence.

Even he wasn't immune to the bone deep chill and he held his body tightly tense to stop it from shaking.

"I was... Watching from afar. I was not involved. The Rosfield brat used his magic."

[stormandash]

If asked, Barnabas would not ever admit that his actions were done as a form of punishment. If asked, he would have stated he was simply ensuring that Sleipnir was taken care of. If asked, he would not have been able to properly see the cruelty in his behavior, in the distance that he had forced between them.

The only comfort that could be offered was that none of this was done on purpose. He did not spend time sitting and thinking and plotting how to make Sleipnir's life miserable. He simply acted, he simply did, and the pieces of him that used to be kind and caring had been worn away over the years.

"Magic." He repeated the word, disdain heavy in his voice. "I thought you were better than that, Sleipnir. Have you grown so slow to allow the weakest Rosfield to be able to lay a hand on you?"

If he had then perhaps it would be better to kill him. Barnabas' hands slid down to Sleipnir's shoulders, gripping tightly but not pushing him forward. Not yet. Perhaps... a new version of him would do better...

[stormandash]

@kihel-sorcas from [x]

He had read the words in a storybook once. Kihel might have thought they were words of great importance and philosophy, and maybe in a way they were? But they came from a simple story about a man traveling to try to slay a dragon, and at the end of the story no one knew where the man or the dragon were, or even if either of them had ever even existed. It didn't matter, though; the story had still found a way to be told and passed down for generations to come.

There was something poetic there in relation to their current situation that Terence wasn't quite adept enough to put into words.

The two of them sat together, watching the dark sky above them. No sun, no moon, no stars. It got dark, certainly; the cycle of day and night still persisted. But the glow of the celestial objects that should have danced across the sky was missing, lost behind the thick hazy purple miasma that had engulfed them.

"... No. Prince Dion's story is far from over." While not another Dominant, Terence knew that the Prince had not fallen in battle. Not yet. Their partings words, though, gave him little hope that he would ever see the other again.

But those were not the concerns or worried that a child needed to find themselves bogged down with. And so Terence looked over at her, smiling gently as he did.

"He's fighting for us even now. To make this world a better place. The least we can do for him is believe that he'll succeed."

[strawberista]

The question received a bold, hearty laugh from the other, strong enough that he actually threw his head back. Gripping the pouch tightly, Hanekoma began undoing the string that barred the way between the gil and his potions.

"Nah, I've no mind'a doin' that," he lilted as he was released from his laughture. "See, I've seen a fair hand of ailments and injuries. I get hurt a lot. An' I can right tell ya that the merchants I pass on the roads and in towns are always charging me more'n'at for this kinda ware. 1000 is a discount, trust me. 'Sides..."

As he counted out the coin Hanekoma turned an eye back to Kihel, a gaze teetering between sharp and compassionate, sympathy entwined with keen knowing. As if he could see something in her that no one else could. He held out the gil towards her, trying to keep eye contact as he smiled softly.

"I've also been down hard on my luck a time or two. I know how trying it can be, jus' keepin' alive. And you're on your own. Ya deserve a fair shake, I'd say. Don't consider it charity. Your work is worth it, even if these layabouts fancy robbin' ya blind."

[stormandash]

The compliments were strange and tasted like bile in her mouth. Kihel knew that she should accept them gratefully, perhaps even with a curtsy to the man to let him know she was pleased with his words, but she felt frozen in the moment. Indecision was gnawing at her like a dog with a bone, and the sight of his open coin pouched fill her with a rush of adrenaline that turned to ice-water in her veins.

It was so close. All it would take was her reaching out and snatching it and then-- what? She would have to run. She was good at running. It wouldn't be that hard to disappear into the crowds, to melt and blend in with all the people milling about them.

The man would know what she looked like thought and could always call the guards on her. His word against hers, and even if she managed to find a safe place to stash and hide it, they would always believe the respectable looking man over gutter-trash like herself. And he was already paying her more than she was asking for.

Reluctantly she took the money from him before giving a small bow. "Thank you sir." It was appreciated, even if it felt like she was forcing the words out of her mouth. "And you shouldn't be sayin' things like that about m'lords an' ladies here. They keep my belly fed." And she knew she was supposed to be grateful for that. If she ever expected anything more, that was on her for getting too many silly thoughts and ideas in her head.

[stormandash]

@defiant-ex-soldiers gets a terence starter

Operating under the eye of the Empress was a burden enough; she always seemed to suspect there was something more happened between Terence and Dion, a suspicion that was based entirely in truth that neither of them could ever risk her discovering. The rumors were bad enough, if not equally amusing; according to the local gossip, there would have been no time for either of them to actually be a Holy Dragoon with their other activities.

Not that he didn't find Dion attractive. Not that he wasn't entirely and completely devoted to him. But it was already bad enough that Dion was keeping secret just what Terence really was; he knew better than to push the burden of a relationship onto him. And that secret was already one that would send both of them to an early grave if Anabella could have her way. Dion would be spared by the nature of being Bahamut, but the leash wrapped around his neck would put him in a choke hold that would make him wish he was dead, and Terence-

Terence was the second-born son of a nothing noble line that had already produced one dead bearer. Why would a second one matter?

It was because of this that he made sure to follow her orders to the letter. One day he knew Dion would come up with a plan to allow them to fight back, and ruining their chances just because he was feeling frustrated would be a disservice to everything he believed in. Even if that meant listening to the whims of a woman who was allowing her own soured feelings to spill out in a rage against every bearer she could find, and even if that meant turning a blind eye to the horrific treatment of other bearers. Even if it meant fighting alongside the Black Shields to allow them to continue their barbaric behavior. If the Empress requested it of the Holy Dragoons and if Dion gave the order, Terence carried it out.

Flawlessly.

In another life, he imagined he could have been friends with those who followed the orders of Cid the Outlaw. They were fighting for the future of all bearers, something Terence desperately wish he could do. Maybe even just at another time - but now he found himself crossing blades, lance to sword, against one of the many Branded who had thrown off the shackles of their enslavement and turned their back on the governing systems of Valisthea. He couldn't let himself dwell on feeling any sort of envy, knowing that would just make his duty harder to complete.

"In the name of the Holy Empire, I command you to put your weapons down to face judgment for your attempted-" He paused, teeth gritting tightly at his next word. "... theft of Sanbreque property."

Theft. They were people, but freeing them was... theft.

[strawberista]

At the mention of Jote Hanekoma chuckled softly. That one he was proud of. The deliberate devotion that Jote provided Joshua was something only he himself could rival, and she was someone that he knew he could trust to do her job well... Even if he was envious of her.

"Make no mistake, my role isn't likened to Jote's. My sister is Joshua's one true retainer. I could never dre-- I could dare t' get so close. I'm only here so's she can get a night'a restful sleep for once. On the morn I wager she'll be up and ready to go. To think I would ever be chosen by him! Heh, not likely, boss. Unlike you, I'm far from the Phoenix's right hand man. He'd like as not have no idea if I died."

The sharp comment made him bristle, just a bit. He didn't understand why Terence was still being so hostile when he'd offered peace between them. He knew he'd likely be very unhappy with the bond between their respective masters, but was it really so bad as to start gnawing on the Undying's throat like a wolf?

Furrowing his brows, he decided to try to unravel it, to find the sore that was making him so aggressive, "What about you? I wouldn't expect someone in your position to be on guard duty. Is that why you're lookin' for a fight?"

[stormandash]

"Your sister?"

Terence found himself feeling... something odd with the realization that the other man had a sister. It wasn't some sudden burst of trust or feeling calmed; rather, it was almost a feeling of guilt that twisted in his belly. The mention of a sibling had the memories of his own suddenly spark in his mind, and the memory of just how deeply and badly he had failed his sister.

It wasn't your fault. You were a child. You never had a chance to save her. That was the constant refrain that circled his mind, and Terence did his best to try to cling to it, but even his desperation couldn't fully drown out the horrible whispers that his own mind liked to spark.

He wasn't fool enough to believe he was solely responsible for her death, at least. Just that he was still complicit by the mere nature of his decision to continue to hide just what he truly was from the world. Even now he kept it a secret, knowing exactly how the world would react if the truth of Dion's Second in Command was ever revealed.

"Jote is your sister?" He spoke again, mostly to try to focus himself and pull his mind away from the dark thoughts that were threatening to overtake him. "I fear I cannot see the resemblance." Physically, at least. Mentally, the two were clearly cut from the same cloth.

To think I'd ever be chosen by him. The two of them had that in common, and they both equally couldn't have been more transparent about the cause of their aches. It was pathetic - and that thought was not aimed at Hanekoma.

"I am the Second in Command of the Holy Dragoons. Wherever Prince Dion goes, I will follow." Even if that meant being on guard duty while he fawned over the Phoenix.

It was only after a long stretch of silence that he finally let out a soft sigh. "It's obvious, I know. You're hardly keeping it secret either. We're both idiots. It never... works with someone of lesser stature. Only another dominant could be worthy of him."