Their existence was never really the point. It’s the idea they give an answer to an imperfect world for those lost without sense or purpose. A mental placeholder of sorts, you know?”
His fingers traced along a few tender leaves of foliage like a brush to canvas; he seemed... preoccupied, not all there yet he listened scrupulously, nonetheless. The reaction left wont for more energy Fhawn did not care to give. There was no force, no restraint, no attitude. This stranger’s unorthodoxy merely made him simper with some resolved apathy.
Not falling back on things that are comfortable. I joked with this answer that actually doing the writing is a challenge for me since I can’t sit still and write 10 paragraphs for two hours anymore but I still write a lot... But I have character traits in writing that I try to not fall back on... Aki and Cyr are two characters where I purposefully am creating something where I am not doing what I find comfortable. They aren’t angry. Aki was raised as a priest. A lot of his philosophies are based around meditation and letting things go and staying calm. He is going down a revenge plot, but I don’t want him to be mopey and grumpy and angry. I want him to be calm. So to me that’s a bit of a challenge to stick to.
*is in his underpants cause who puts on pants during isolation?*
“Acheron is good-looking, definitely. If that’s all it took, i would definitely smash. However, I think we are both of a same..position and dominance preference so, there may be some issues there. But given a situation where I could....do as I am accustom to, I would happily smash.”
Send me a ❥ and I will say something positive about someone random.
TWO PEOPLE? Okay!
1. @shroudwayman HEY I WANNA GET TO KNOW YOU AND REN BETTER. You both seem like such nice people!! I should have taken up the opportunity to hang at his place when Ren invited Elliot over. Dx Unfortunately that night it was late and I had work in the morning. :sob: Renaux is charming to me and I like his little mannerisms and nicknames for literally everyone he meets. It’s GREAT. He’s great. I love him.
2. @chxsingthemoon ok look I know I just answered YOUR ask for this prompt but. I’m cheating. Acheron is GORGEOUS. And I’m enamored. And so, so gay. I’m sorry. You also seem very kind to me and ONCE AGAIN here I am. Waving shyly from the window.
But I hope you both know now that I am cheering for you even if it’s from the shadows!
(Hoo boy, this prompt took me an embarrassing amount of time to get done. But inspiration was being stubborn for this one. And eventually I got an idea from one of the Tales from Shadow stories. Hope you can forgive the late, late reply ;A;)
Why?
It was a thought that must have run through his head a thousand times.
Cid Garlond sat at his desk, stewing in silence. He stared in contemplation at the cup in his hand. Empty, he needed more drink…
Bleary-eyed, the man reached over to grab the bottle from his desk to pour himself more wine.
It had been weeks since Black Rose hit. Weeks since it had wreak its havoc across the land. Hundreds and thousands had died that day. Many of them friend…
He had been away in Othard and thus spared the weapon’s deadly touch. Many survivors considered themselves blessed not to have met such a terrible end. Cid however just felt confused...and angry.
Why had he been spared? Why had he been one of the “lucky” few to see the horrible aftermath of the empire’s weapon?
The day Black Rose had been unleashed had been a dark one. Casualties could not even be retrieved, as people were worried the gas would linger. The area of effect was so large, extending all across Gyr Abania and even into some parts of Gridania.
He had not heard anything from the Scions since the brutal attack. The account was that the Scions had taken to the field just before the Empire had unleashed Black Rose. It was as if the imperials had been waiting for that very moment to strike.
Days had passed and the man had soon received confirmation of his worst fears. How desperately he wanted it to be a dream...or even some sick joke. But nay, he was wide awake to experience the nightmare the Empire had ushered onto Eorzea.
He still remembered that beaming smile Bellona had given him before they parted ways.
“We’ll be fine, Cid. You all just go take care of business in Othard. Maybe by the time you get back we’ll be celebrating another victory?” She had said with such confidence. Her face glowing with a cheeky grin.
And he had happily left it in their hands. Feeling just as confident that all would be well upon his return.
Bellona had been so sure. They had beat back the Empire before and they would do so again. But of course...not even Eorzea’s dear Warrior of Light could stand a chance against an imperial bio-weapon...
Looking back at it now, it felt almost like a mocking memory. His grieving mind teasing him.
Many times he had found himself regretting ever leaving that day. Wishing he could have remained. Perhaps, he could have done something? Helped them somehow?
It tortured him. He felt like he needed to do something. Somehow make up for not being there.
And it left him restless most days and frustrated. Sent him pacing around his study like an agitated coeurl. Angry at himself and angry at the state of the world.
What? What could he do?
The brilliant Cid nan Garlond was left feeling so utterly helpless.
So many times he wished he could somehow go back in time and stop it all from happening. Warned them somehow or better yet—stopped it. Wish and wish, even though he knew it was foolish to do so...
There were some days he wished Black Rose had taken him as well. It would have been better than being left behind to feel helpless and pitiful.
“What would you have me do, my friend?” The tired engineer sighed as he leaned back in his chair. Shaking his head, he takes another long drink from his cup.
What would you have done were our positions switched?
Well certainly not mope around for starters...
But ever since the incident with Black Rose, the world seemed to be falling apart. All hope had died that day with the realm’s greatest heroes. The void they had left was startling.
Why had he been one of the few left to pick up the pieces of this shattered realm?
He was no adventurer—no hero.
With a groan, the man rubs his face. He was frustrated...and so very, very tired.
“What a disappointing sight. Is this what you’ve been doing all day? Not a very chiefly sight to be honest.”
An irritatingly familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up.
Nero stood at the door. His face wrinkled into one of disgust.
The last person he felt like dealing with right now. Cid sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “And what do you want?”
Arms crossed, Nero arched a brow at the other’s tone. “I came to see if you’ve actually pulled yourself out of bed at a decent time. You do remember that you have important duties to fulfill?”
“I’m quite aware and I am tending to them. I don’t need you nagging me about it.”
“Well it certainly doesn’t look like you’re tending to those duties.”
Another glare was leveled at the man, but Nero seemed unaffected by it. Instead, continuing to peer around the room. The barely slept in bed, the messy desk covered in balled up paper, the bottles…
The engineer knew he had some very judgemental or snarky commentary to make.
“Just leave me be, Nero.” Cid groaned, rubbing his head.
Ah but Nero was never one to listen to him.
“Moping again?” He jabbed.
“Nero...please not now. Just leave me be for once.” Cid sighed and turned back to his desk. Maybe if he pretended to be engrossed in something important he’d leave?
However, the other Garlean remained stubborn as ever. Arms crossed as he leaned against the door frame. His gaze hidden behind his sunglasses he knew it to be judgmental.
“Just how long do you plan on doing this?” Nero asked.
Could the man be anymore insensitive?
“People died, Nero.” Cid snipped. “My friends died and I wasn’t there for them. So will have to forgive me if I mourn them.”
“Oh you always moan about that. ‘I should have been here’.” Nero mocked. “What? What do you think you could have possibly done? You would have died with the rest of them.
“But the great Cid nan Garlond might as well have died to Black Rose because I hardly recognize the sorry fool I see before me.” His words are biting and harsh and unrestrained. “I wonder what our dear, late, hero would think if she saw you like this?”
A spark of anger cut through his drunken haze. He could put up with any other mocking from the man. But that—that was low. That was a line crossed. He would not let him use his dead friend against him.
“Don’t.” He growled.
But Nero fearlessly met his gaze. Or what? His look seemed to say. You won’t do anything.
“Don’t what?” He shrugs. “Be honest?” A sneer curls his lip up. “I won’t be like the others and pretend this pathetic behaviour from you is okay. I expect better from you, Garlond. I have always expected better from you.”
“Nero.” He warned again.
Silence hung heavy in the air between them.
Nero sighed and removed the shades from his face. The look in his eyes one of disappointment. “You know, she once told me that she looked up to you. You hear that, Garlond? You’re the man the Warrior of Light looked up to.” He paused and let those words sink in. “So is this really how you’re going to treat that respect she had for you? Or are you going to be the man she fondly remembered?”
Shaking his head in disgust one final time, the ex-Tribunus left him to stew in his sorrow.
Cid looked after the man, stunned and indignant. His teeth clenched as he struggled with a reaction. Anger, annoyance, offended.
And the unpleasant, begrudging feeling that Nero had a point.
When had he let himself turn into this? This miserable man riddled with guilt and hopelessness?
Looking over his desk, his expression soured at the work he had scattered about. These days he had little inspiration for any of it. Whenever any came to him, he quickly grew frustrated with it and threw it aside.
He reached for one of the bottles upon his again, hesitated and then reached for the balled up pieces of paper instead. Most of the trashed ideas were half finished notes. Utter nonsense he’d scrawls while inebriated. Things he hadn’t even bothered to look at again when sober, knowing it to probably be something embarrassing or foolish.
He barely even read over his work as he unfurled note after note, setting them aside into a neat pile. His heart wasn’t truly in it, he didn’t even know why he was doing it. Perhaps to take his mind off his turmoil?
If I could just somehow go back and change this all.
And what do you think you possibly could have done?
Nero’s words echoed within his mind with the sound of his own voice.
Black Rose was a terrible and unstoppable weapon. He would have died along with the rest of them. But if he were being honest there were some darker days that he wished—
Something gave the engineer pause he sifted through his old notes. It was something no less incomprehensible than the others—he knew not what his state of mind had been when he had written it. Mostly stray thoughts scribbled all over the place. But one in particular stood out, and whatever had been on his mind at the time must have been mighty important for he had even gone through the trouble of underlining it.
Alexander
Cid sat in quiet as he recalled the strange being he Biggs, Wedge, and Bellona had dealt with. And he wondered what exactly had been on his mind to inspire this thought. However, something deep within him seemed to know for it sent his heart racing.
It was nothing more than a hunch of course. But Cid had a feeling that this might be able to help them.
C’tolemy is what is considered ‘Ankobia’ of his tribe.
Snippet of Coeurl Tribe Lore:The ton are the communities within the villages of adolescent male and female miqo'te that are learning a trade. All of the ton are open to both sexes, however living arrangements are divided into male and female communal housing with an elder member of the ton so as to discourage courting or unsupervised pairings.The warrior's ton is an excellent example of how tons work in Coeurl society. The final rank is the head of the warrior ton as well as the de facto general in times of war, the Ankobia. This rank is chosen by the Council from the best warriors in the ton and is typically held until resignation or death in battle.It’s not surprising that C’tolemy is constantly riddled in scars like he is. Life as Ankobia or Master Hunter means that he’s the one constantly in battle, constantly on hunts. Constantly in danger. He leads hunts, practice spars, training those young warriors in daily practice, teaching the cubs how to fish, teaching cubs how to speak, act, carry themselves. He checks the food, manages portion control and leads Border Patrol. He’s a very busy Miqo’te that constantly is scarred and only gaining more injuries every day. Such is the life of a warrior! His particular back scars are from a nasty fight with Vochstein.
