#(❝lore)

[esperiums]

Taking into consideration the immensity of the Final Fantasy universe and the variety of characters introduced over the last three decades, I've decided to compile a small list of characters that feature prominently in Terra's backstory. They'll be making appearances some time in the near future in headcanons, character development threads, or perhaps they've already been mentioned in some of Terra's posts.

YOON SI YOON as LOCKE COLE KELYSE as CELES CHERE CHARLIE PLUMMER as ZIDANE TRIBAL LUCKY BLUE SMITH as KUJA BOB MORLEY as SQUALL LEONHART

TO BE ADDED: CLOUD STRIFE, KEFKA PALAZZO, LIGHTNING FARRON

[esperiums]

✖

 MEMORY MEME:  ✖ - a repressed memory

Fading out of existence is not the same thing as dying. Death is an absolute: an inevitable end that all living things in creation must face once their time has come. Fading is unnatural and involves the forceful erasure of everything you were, are, and will be. Her body gradually becomes transparent, dissipating into luminous spheres of disembodied life force, and though the process appears harmless it is anything but. There is something deeply violent in the way her spirit splinters in a thousand directions and, though she can’t physically feel any pain, her soul screams at being torn apart.

How many times has she been unmade? How much more will she be made to endure? The soul of a being could only be made to stretch so far and so thinly before it tore at the seams.

“Terra…”

The little knight in her arms stirs as he opens his eyes to look at her. Even as they are fading from this world, their minds and bodies crushed under the weight of an existential exhaustion, his eyes are remarkably bright. Emerald depths shine with youthful promise and a wisdom beyond his years; a great destiny was thrust upon him and, as a result, had to grow up all too soon. Looking at him like this, she notices that he is still but a boy.

”I…I’m scared.”

”It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She shifts so that she’s properly resting her back against the broken pillar behind them. Her arms tighten around him just a bit more, a bit closer, even though she struggles to conjure the strength necessary to move, let alone speak. They sit like this for a moment, embracing the silence shrouding the ruins of the Goddess’ sanctuary, willing to keep her eyes open despite wanting so badly to close them and drift away. She is determined to stay with him –the Onion Knight, her little protector.

It isn’t fair. It shouldn’t be this way. He is too young to experience such desolation. Too soft.

”I’m here….” She repeats again and again, her voice barely a whisper yet she persists. Her arms continue to hold onto the Onion Knight until he is the first to fully fade and depart from the war-torn dimension of cosmic Gods.

Her arms are empty now. So is she.

Terra lingers a bit longer, eyes slowly closing. She, too, is nearly completing gone. Only a fragment of her being remains but she isn’t afraid. No…it isn’t the end. The Gods will call upon them again to fight their eternal battle. They will be summoned into this world, reinvigorated and new.

Things will be different next time. I’ll protect you, too.

She fades from existence with a final sigh. Glowing specks of light carry her essence beyond the ebb and flow of spacetime. She goes where galaxies are born and eternities spool forth, lost in a shroud of cosmic dust and searing light until the forces of the universe call upon her again to fight.

So it is that another cycle ends only to begin anew.

[esperiums]

A man dances with a young girl in a burning room.

This is no ordinary performance. It is theatrical and drenched in drama; an obscene display of depravity. There is no elegance in the way he drags her petite body across the floor in great, sweeping motions. There is no grace in the way her feet struggle to keep up with her partner’s erratic movements; his feet refuse to abide by any rhythm or tempo, instead preferring to dance to the sound of his own maddening song. She knows this tune all too well: it is not a song but the sound of Hysteria disguised as maniacal laughter. It is the only thing that makes him dance.

His laughter drowns out the strangled cries of those caught in the fire she created. A beautiful pyre for poor, unfortunate souls – a fine death. They should be so lucky to have the honour of kindling her -their- flame so graciously bestowed upon them! It is only fitting, after all, that they celebrate this grand destruction with an infernal dance. And so he grabs her hand and yanks her forward, tugging at her limbs like the strings on a puppet. Dance, my dear, dance! Look alive why don’t you? That permanent, clown-like grin accentuated by purple make-up stretches and expands to the point where it consumes his face in its entirety, and she can do nothing except stare blankly in return. He is dead behind the eyes despite delighting in their debauchery but, then again, so is she.

Oh, what a sweet, pretty little thing. Fair maid delicate of face, rose colored cheeks and flowing hair the color of fresh mint. Her eyes could have been bright were it not for the crown she wore around her head; an ill fitting atrocity made of cold bronze that all but numbed both the mind and senses. It is a crown fit for a harbinger of certain devastation. It was his gift to the girl, his most prized possession. His precious little puppet. What beautiful destruction they create together!

A man dances with a young girl in a burning room. Everything burns around them. The flames are hungry and so they growl voraciously, licking and nipping at the walls until they burn the world outside, too. Until there is nothing and none left except the pair dancing mad.

[esperiums]

— character study: nightmares

Terra seldom remembers the contents of her dreams. A hazy impression may linger in her mind in the moments following her waking but most traces of its existence will have vanished at that point. Unfortunately, the same can't be said of her nightmares. Though her nights are more often than not dreamless, Terra is nonetheless a victim of recurring nightmares that sporadically disturb her sleep. In reality these nightmares serve as gruesome, if not violent, manifestations of past traumas that have left lasting emotional and psychological scars.

Her nightmares always consist of fire. A great burning capable of searing the heavens and boiling godly ichor. Flames dance at her fingertips; she is the firestarter, the one who sets the world aflame. In life she set hundreds -thousands- ablaze as a child soldier and puppet of the Gestahlian Empire. In her nightmare it is much of the same except she appears to delight in the senseless destruction.

It ends the same way each time: Terra wakes abruptly, drenched in sweat and silent tears streaming down her face. The smell of charred flesh overwhelms her senses - she can't rid herself of it. It permeats her skin, the blankets, the walls; it is everywhere and nowhere all at once. In time the feeling of dread and horror dissipates, eventually allowing sleep to find her once again. Sometimes it stays longer. If such is the case, Terra will opt to take a cold shower to regain her senses but also to chill the abnormal warmth of her skin.

Warm. So warm. Her body feels as if it is on fire, too. Not even dousing herself in icy water will help. There is nothing to do except wait it out.