#clive rosfield

[cliveloveruhhh]

I am You. I Am bleeding. 17k words , Clive Rosfield x Reader. chapter 1 , chapter 2

keep in mind, the reader is an unreliable narrator for this chapter. In specific parts, where you may seem confused, think whether you want to believe if its the full truth or if its something else :)

[ content included in this chapter; self harm , attempted murder , emotional incest , angst , depressed reader , Alternate Universe , Angst , Reader is Disabled - uses a mobility aid , Depressed Reader , Traumatized Reader and Clive Rosfield , fluff , not beta read bc none of my fics are , slight suggestive content , unhappy ending , guns , reader has a slow descent into insanity , generational "curse" , reader is an unreliable narrator]

[ characters included in this chapter ; Clive Rosfield , Reader (you) , Ultima (vaguely mentioned) , Jill Warrick , Joshua (vaguely mentioned) ]

you can read this on ao3 here if you have trouble reading small text!

' Good things didn’t hurt. Good things will not hurt.

You had to keep repeating to yourself in disguise of prayer so that it may work on your brain.

toofar

When one door opens…. 

The world seemed to have changed very drastically with the absence of Cid the Outlaw, a problem that was now contained and now allowed the world to move as intended. Time proceeded quicker than before and all who had welcomed you with open arms before, now discarded you. Trash to be taken out, that was all you were when you were released from the clutches of the Imperial Council.

You had worked your body to the bone during your time away, forcing it to be able to support you when you had no aid to do the job for you. You could thank your mother for a few things, learning how to use your magick properly was one of them. You wondered, though, how you had not succumbed to the curse with the amount of sacrifice you had given your body. You worked so hard that your body trembled, hardly able to move for hours. At some point, food felt unnecessary to you. Your appetite had vanished in captivity.

It took another year of settling elsewhere. Your home had been defiled and ruined by your captors, in the effort of searching for an answer that wasn’t anywhere. It seemed, whatever had tormented you during that week, would only make an effort to follow after you. 

It took one more year of deciding who you wished to be, of taking things into your own hands and helping yourself. You took the opportunity of making aids for your body, your legs more specifically. It did not ail your exhaustion, but it would make movement easier, which you had preferred.  

In three years, all without contact or sight of who you really wished to see, you were terribly far. Time had changed and things had progressed. Being introduced to firearms—something more common where you had migrated off to—had altered the course of the life you began to live. They were one of the “grand, new things among the progression”, in the words of the old man who had been the first to put a firearm in your hands. You were stunned at how heavy it felt, the only weapon you had ever held in your life was a knife, which didn’t work out too well back then. 

“If you want food, you’ll have to hunt. That’s if you want to live here long enough, unless you’re just passing by?” The old man’s name was Thomas. Who claimed to be one of the first to lay his eyes on a firearm before the rest of the world. “..No. I plan to stay here, just until I’m well enough to move elsewhere.”

“Well, I will not pry. But I will teach you to hunt, in the early morning, perhaps?” Thomas raised a brow, as did you—at his suggestion. “Um… if I am able, yes.”

“If you are able?”

“Mobility troubles me most times.” You said very simply, handing the heavy firearm back to the man. It was long enough that you needed to hold it with both of your hands. “I’ve been doing my best with travelling, but..” You shifted against the tree trunk you were currently sitting on. You had been taking any opportunity to rest your body, especially now that you didn’t have the luxury of having someplace to return to and rest. 

“Having a weak body at a young age can certainly trouble the mind. Something happened?” The old man slung the firearm over his shoulder with the leather strap attached to it. You nodded, but you didn’t elaborate. “..I should get some rest.” You had just arrived at the small village, offered a warm bed to sleep in as long as you pulled your weight. You promised to do as much as you could, when you could. “Right. I’ll alert the rest of the village then, about your dilemma.  They’ll surely be easy on you if they see you slacking off.” 

Your relationship with Old Thomas didn’t build into much. You remained inside and only went out when necessary, which was to do your chores and hunt for food when needed. Your appetite hadn’t completely come back at the time, neglecting meals more often than not. 

You spent more time trying to strengthen your body and figure out what was to become of you, what you wanted to become now that you were… changed. You liked to forget what happened to you while you were kept away from the public eye, nothing pleasant came of that experience. 

You packed up your things just eleven months later—in the middle of a very harsh winter, and during those months, you hadn’t made much effort to form any connection. “I admit, I am sad to see you leaving..” The old man's health had been deteriorating in the months you stayed, you had seen him collapse once while you were out. You didn’t help him, thanks to someone else doing the honors, but you did go out of your way to ask if he was alright.  “But you did say you would be leaving eventually.”

“I did?” 

“Something like that.” Thomas smiled, patting your shoulder. 

The corner of your mouth twitched upwards, averting your gaze. “Well. I hope you get better. Maybe I’ll visit.” You mustered a brief smile. “Of course. Of course.”

A brief goodbye was all you gave the people who cared to give their farewells to you. You wished to leave as quickly as possible. As much as you enjoyed being someplace where you could be safe enough to where you don’t have to worry about your surroundings for once, you wished to be elsewhere. You much preferred to be alone. 

With your craftsmanship and evolved magick, you were able to support your legs for longer than before. You had listened to Clive’s suggestion from long before, finding a way to manage the consumption of aether in your body for much longer before draining it of energy. It was very useful, when the winds became too strong for your weak legs to support your body on their own.

Blizzards came and went, being caught in one was terribly unlucky. Your life had so many downs that it was hard to believe any ups would come, you could hardly believe you’d live through the biting blizzard. Though fortunately, the harsh and fast winds had died down just as quickly as they came. You had kneeled down with your face so close to the snow, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes that you wouldn’t actually die in such a stupid way.  Your face was covered in snow when you rose your head, snow fluttering off your lashes with each blink. 

You wished you had taken a chocobo when you were offered one back at the village. Your magick had burned out, now you were left with your mobility aid, and your legs. As well as an old little wagon to carry your things, covered and secured with a heavy piece of fabric.

 “Agh…” You dusted snow off of your hands. Your old gloves had been blown away and buried under snow, nowhere to be found when you woke up this morning.  Your fingers would freeze and break off your very hands if you didn’t find something to cover them with.

Before you could dwell on your predicament any further, the sound of chaos close by had alerted you. You unveiled the firearm that Old Thomas had given you before you left the village, and took careful steps closer. 

You found somewhere high enough to get an overview, observing what looked to be a battle. The harsh winds had died down, but it was still a bit windy. If you acted, you’d had to be precise of where you shot. 

You could see beasts covered in frost, wielding weapons infested with aether, transformed by ice. You knew that beasts like goblins transformed with weather, it seemed that it was different from home. You hadn’t seen beasts like this until now.  Alongside the monsters, you spotted a cloaked man fighting against them, his hood covering his face. You frowned, not really enjoying the sight of hooded men anymore. 

You pulled the hood from your cloak over your head as well, pulling your scarf a little tighter around your neck. You held up the firearm, taking careful aim. With your improved craftsmanship, you had explored the insides of the firearm gifted to you. You managed to alter it by mere luck and some skill, replacing the bullets you would use with your own magick, each pull of the trigger summoning aether and draining it from your body with your magick. 

You took a slow breath and fired, not very hopeful with the snowy winds blocking the way. The man below had looked in your direction, the wind blowing his hood off in the process. You held your breath at the sight, hardly believing who you saw. 

You stood from where you kneeled at the edge of the cliff you stood atop. You reached to pull off your hood as well. 

One single second later, you spotted the same emerald green of your magick firing right back at you like a reflected attack. You felt your skin tear, a stinging pain that also flung you back and off of the cliff. You hadn’t ever tested your powers on yourself for safe measure, never needing to do so because your powers had only worked offensively, save for a few little spells that you had saved for your own gain. 

You kept a tight hold on the leather strap of your firearm until you lost grip completely, losing consciousness for a single minute the moment you hit… something. Your fingertips tingled and your head pounded. Blood clouded the vision in your left eye, you felt the freezing snow beneath you. 

Everything felt cold and warm at the same time. The sound of heavy footsteps stomping against the snow was the last thing you heard before drifting off again. 

Your body ached when you woke once again. There was something tight wrapped around your head and pressed against your left eye, it didn’t feel like you were back outside. You didn’t open your eyes until you tried to sit up, eyeing bandages which had been wrapped around your right palm and the fingers of your left hand. You groaned the moment you put pressure on each hand, pain shooting through your body with each movement. 

“I don’t recommend that.” The unfamiliar voice of what sounded like a man alerted you. It looked like you were in some sort of infirmary, but… “Where..?” You muttered, using your core strength to sit yourself up instead. Your fingertips brushed against the bandage around your left eye. You wondered how bad the injury was, compared to… everything else. 

“There were ice-covered goblins near our village. A kind man helped rid the beasts for us, but… I was told you helped as well. I did my best to ail your wounds. You were out cold for a month.” Including those eleven months, another year had passed in your solitude, you bit your bottom lip at the realization. “..How bad is it? My injuries?”

“You may lose most of your vision in that eye of yours, if not all of it. You broke one hand from that fall, a few nasty cuts on the other. And you broke a rib, but everything else… just a few bruises.” The man stepped closer, “for that eye of yours… I can substitute it for something a little better.” He reached to unravel the bandages around your head. Your eye felt weak, you could hardly open it.  

You stared at your hands, slowly bending and flexing your fingers to test the pain. It didn’t hurt as badly as you thought. 

“You were in a terrible state when you first got here, your legs were mostly unscathed. You can walk, but I prefer you to rest for at least another few weeks before you go off.” He came back with what looked like an eyepatch, helping to wrap it around your head. “I did keep close watch of whatever you had wrapped around them, your legs. I am a healer, after all.” 

“Could I have them back?” You pleaded, “My things as well, please.” 

“Of course, I have a few other things for you as well.” 

He brought your cloak, your scarf and your clothes—which all looked washed and repaired. The usual tears were no longer there. When you changed, you stepped outside to see the wagon of your things. You noticed your firearm inside, alongside two rolls of bandages and a cloth bag full of herbs. A very big cloth bag. “You really didn’t have to.” You said to downplay your gratitude, bringing your hands together. “If you wish to carry on now, you’ll certainly need help.” 

You pressed your lips together and looked down. “About that man… the one who helped you. Did you see him anywhere? Did he linger here?” You wondered if he still cared enough about you, or if his clinging to you before was for mere convenience. You imagined he would want to stay away from you now, seeing as you got him put back in the same hell he was in before. 

“He managed to find his way back here a few times, miss. But the winter this year is harsh, and I imagine he had gotten lost trying to return back. Your best bet is to wait until the winter is over, if you really wish to find him.” 

You shouldn’t be surprised. You shouldn’t have expected him to linger longer than necessary. “..Right.” You turned and reached for the rope tied to the handle of the wagon, making a loose tie around your left hand. “I should carry on. But thank you anyways.” Your body still ached in some places, but you did not wish to stay here any longer than you had to. “And.. thank you for your help. I am indebted to you.” You managed to smile, pulling your wagon along with you. 

You knew better, but you could still be angry. He had cared enough to save your life, but not enough to even leave a single letter? Not even to say that he was alright, and that he’d be fine on his own? 

You could grumble to yourself all you’d like, but you knew it wouldn’t solve much. Still, you grumbled and stomped your feet either way. “Stupid…” You muttered, carrying on wherever your feet wished to take you. You had no destination in mind, you just wanted to get somewhere… far enough. 

Night came quickly when you couldn’t tell the exact time, always getting a little angry at the amount of time you waste trying to find a destination. You couldn’t find someplace to settle down quick enough, it always felt like you were running away from something you couldn’t quite name.  You unravelled the rope from your wrist and tied it to the nearest tree, enough sticks and branches gathered to make a fire. 

Your recent struggle with warmth had you wishing you wielded fire, instead of whatever it was you currently had. You stared at your gloveless hands, holding them near the fire.  If there was a way to steal the power of a dominant, you knew who you would go after first. “Mm..”  You attempted to rub some warmth into your skin, bringing your hands close to your skin.

You pulled your hood over your head, rubbing at your arms underneath your cloak. You stood, intending to find more sticks to feed to the fire. You half-worried for your things, though not entirely. If someone did try to steal everything, they’d be making quite a bit of noise before getting away. 

You gathered thick and thin sticks, taking anything you could to warm your body. You felt like your body would fall apart, every limb freezing off bit by bit until your head rolled off your shoulders. Hundreds of shivers had escaped your lips in the span of an hour. A bundle of wood sat in your arms,  shaking a little more than you were earlier. 

A branch cracked in the distance. You remained where you stood, immediately looking in the direction of where it came from. Somebody was close, cloaked by the darkness, barely visible under the light of the moon.  You just stood there, staring at them.

Ever so slightly, their arm had twitched. You frowned at the sight, though you didn’t move. Only, your head slowly turned in the other direction. You believed you escaped those sights the day you believed you were far enough from it. That thing.  You stared at the snow you could scarcely see, trying your hardest to ignore the approaching steps. 

When he called your name, you gasped. The sticks fell from your arms and you stumbled back, finally looking at him. 

“You’re alright..” Clive said quietly. He wore a cloak over his body, the dominant of fire still got cold, unfortunately. “I wanted..” He looked down. He looked guilty, mayhaps for disappearing so suddenly. You had only seen his face again for a split second before you woke and he was gone like the wind once again. “I wanted to see you again, I promise. But so many things happened the moment I left. I had…” 

The surprise on your face took a little more time to vanish. Your hands came down to your sides and you looked down. “...I didn’t expect you to come back anyway.” You kneeled down to pick up the sticks you had dropped, going quickly enough. “Why?” He asked you once you stood back up, following you once you began to make your way back. You threw every stick into the fire once you got back to it. 

What did he mean “why”? 

“...Three years ago, I had gotten you thrown back in the hellhole you barely managed to escape from. I’m surprised you don’t hate me right now.”  You sat back down where you just were before leaving, resting your hands on your knees. “You were there too.” He reminded you. Neither of you saw one another a single time while you were there. You recalled hearing his voice once or twice before, neither of the times being very pleasant to hear. “None of what happened… it isn’t your fault. How could it be?” 

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t do anything either when he went out of his way to sit next to you. “The first thing I did was try to find you. But…” He must have seen the state of your home. It was a disaster, not a thing left untouched. “Had I not gone out of my way to help before, we probably wouldn’t have seen each other again.” 

“You wanted to find me.” You said again, just to clarify. “I just wish you had left a letter, or something. When you did find me.”  You frowned, brows knitting close together. You shouldn’t have let yourself get so upset. “What happened? Were you not able to? Did you… get lost in a blizzard, or something?” You shifted a little, bringing your knees close to your chest. Your tendency to curl into yourself like a child hadn’t ever been lost to you. You always wished to hide away from something. 

“..The blizzards around here are no joke. I admit, I did, a few times. But…” Clive’s hand pressed against the ground, leaning the slightest bit close to get a closer look at you. “Many times, did I try to write letters to you. Just to.. explain what happened. Every attempt changed over time, of course…” You imagined that he had no ill will, maybe not giving you any letters was on purpose. Maybe. “I wanted to tell you, face to face. About everything.” 

Clive looked away for a moment, reaching one hand into his cloak. “But a part of me knew better.” In his hand, he held a small sized bundle of letters, tied together with a little piece of… rope? You reached out to take it when he offered it to you, staring at the stack of letters. “..You said you wanted to tell me everything.” You set the letters beside you, resting your arms atop your knees. “Since you’re here now, you better stay long enough to do so. Or I’ll throw all of those letters into the fire, I swear I will.” 

You picked the letters back up, walking over to your wagon. You slipped the paper underneath the heavy fabric covering your things, looking over your shoulder. 

“I will.” He promised, the firelight glistening in his cerulean eyes. Your lips pressed together. “I was really worried, when I saw the state of your home. I thought…” 

The fabric fell from your grasp and you stood up, keeping your eyes off of his. “Did you think I was dead?” You could hear him hesitate to say something, looking down. He felt guilty for even thinking such a thing. “...What did you think?” Your numbingly cold fingers trembled and fidgeted about. Your shoes kicked up a bit of snow as they dragged closer towards him. 

“Something like that.” He said. It was enough for you to understand, enough for you to look away too. 

“..I wanted to.” You blinked, unable to feel complete sadness at what you had admitted. It was the honest truth,but you did feel a little guilty. You didn’t like telling people things about you. “When I came home after getting out, I saw everything.. even the things I treasured most, destroyed.  I couldn’t sleep, my feet brought me elsewhere…”

You grasped the kitchen knife so tightly that night, clutching the blade to make yourself unafraid of the pain. You could still see the scar on your palm if you looked long enough. A long sigh left you. Your teeth gritted and your lips stretched into what felt like a smile. “I believed… running away would fix whatever I felt. Maybe it was whoever had been in my home that made me feel that way. Like a mold, that sort of thing. If it’s bad enough, it can make people feel weird.”

You looked to your left, bringing your shaky hands together. “..I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel that way again.” 

“Again..?” Clive stood up. It didn’t feel right, hearing you speak like this. You were usually either… calm or scared, sometimes confident. Of course, an event like being thrown into such a hellish place like confinement could make just about anyone lose themselves. 

“Oh, um…” Your smile faded rather quickly. You stepped back over to the fire, but you didn’t sit down. “When… my mother..”

You remembered your mother very clearly. You wondered why you didn’t forget her like anyone else would forget someone once they were gone. She was quite the responsible mother for you. She apologized when you made a mistake or got into a fight with one of the children at your village. You remember her pretty hair and her pretty smile, how she held your hand when you were afraid.

You remembered a lot about your mother. You remember things that you probably shouldn’t have.  

Your mother wasn’t the best mother. 

When your father had gotten ill, you remembered your mother doing her best to take care of him when the bad days would come. When your father confessed his infidelity to your mother, you were told to stay in your room until you were told to come out. When the loud bangs and the shouting came, you hurried out of your room in fear. It was the first time your mother ever hit you for not doing as you were told, you had lost your balance and fell over that day. You remembered losing a baby tooth that day, it hurt the most out of every other. 

When she shoved you back into your room, you only cried until father’s shouting stopped, and your mother opened your door. She asked for your help, and you didn’t question the blood that seemed to cover her from head to near-toe. 

You had buried your father in a forest at the age of six. And you never questioned it, because she told you to. 

When you spotted your mother, standing outside of her room and staring through the cracked door, you stood until she noticed you. She sat near the edge of her bed, holding the smallest kitchen knife against her forearm. You remembered the small sounds of air she sucked in through her teeth, the panting breaths that left her every time she tore into her flesh. 

When she saw you, she asked you to “come in and close the door behind you”. You did as she asked, and sat right next to her. 

She showed you why.

“It’s better like this. Sometimes, you have to.. just to get all the hurt out on you and no one else. But sometimes the hurt has to go on someone else.” She had stroked the back of your head as she whispered to you, speaking in the same tone that she used when she read books during bedtime. “Mummy had to hurt daddy because she was so very hurt at what she did.” Her head rested against yours, all her weight on you like you were a comfortable bed. She bled onto the back of your nightgown. 

“It hurts a lot. But soon… it’ll go away, then, again…” 

When she passed out, she brought you onto the hardwood floor with her. You laid on the floor until she woke up, and you helped bandage her torn up arm. She smiled at you so wide. 

When you cut yourself for the first time, it wasn’t… much. You had sucked in the air through your teeth the same as her, cut messily the same as her. A few cuts, and one vertical.  Your mother held your hand and hugged you tight. “We have to cover it up” she said, when she bandaged you up. 

You scratched yourself in your sleep just like her, and woke up with bloody fingernails just like her.

“If I had a son, he never would have followed in my footsteps like you.” 

When she opened your heart to you. All the thoughts she had about you showed when you began to open your heart to. She liked to wash your hair during bathtime and shared with you the pain of submerging wounds underneath the water when not healed enough. She cradled you like you were sacred, and wouldn’t let go of you for hours. 

She liked to take baths with you sometimes. She never let you face her. It felt like, to her, she was looking at herself.. Or so she said.

 “If I had a son, I never would have loved you like I would love a daughter.” 

“I couldn’t be able to let him in like I let you in.” She spoke quietly to you, since. She held your head close to her chest to listen to her heartbeat. “We’re connected in every aspect. Someday, you’ll grow up to be just like Me.”  She lied on your bed, unraveling her arms from your body and boxing you in. Her hands pinned down near each side of your head. “I’ll teach you everything I know, so we won't ever be apart.”

“I always thought it was quite strange.” Remembering the memories you shared with your mother… It always makes you feel dizzy. Every single day, since you buried your father, had felt like an experience one could only believe if they were lightheaded.  An awkward smile placed itself on your face, finally looking in Clive’s direction. 

He looked afraid. Distraught at the story you told him, as if it was inhumane—what had happened to you. Your smile died down the moment it came, confusion etching onto your features. “Ah…” You looked down. You were never taught otherwise, you were never told what was wrong and what was right about your mother. You never told anyone else wrong. “What’s wrong?” 

“None of what you went through…. none of that is normal.” The way he said it made you feel.. embarrassed. Like allowing yourself to participate in her endeavors as wrong too. You were young then, but still. “You may have loved your mother, but absolutely none of what happened was normal.” He stepped closer, “I need you to understand that.”

“...Back then. What I saw, at Phoenix Gate.” You blinked rapidly, not liking the mental image you got when you tried remembering. “It looked like her, my mother. And it felt…. so suffocating. Like seeing her, even the darkest silhouette, felt… so strange.” It didn’t feel right. Your mind had conjured such an uncanny sight of your mother. You didn’t like seeing your mother in a dark light.. “It’s like… my body knows something is wrong, but not the rest of me.” You felt like an insolent, daft little child. You couldn’t get yourself to understand, even if it was right in front of you. 

“I still do it. What she taught me, ever since..”  You were supposed to be a good child, understanding and obedient. You were doing what you thought was good for you. “Good things are supposed to hurt sometimes.” You repeated the exact words she told you in her bedroom, back then. When you wanted help, to breach past the pain. 

When she saw you crying, she said it. Your mother saw you in a way that you couldn’t understand. Maybe if you became like her. If you married and had an unfaithful husband, a daughter instead of a son, a husband that would be slaughtered with a kitchen knife…. Would you understand your mother in the way she understood you? 

 “It’s better that I hurt myself and no one else, like she said. Isn’t it better that way?” If you showed him the way you carved into yourself, maybe he’d understand as well. “If I…” You reached out from your cloak, grasping at the hem of your sleeve. Your left arm felt the chill in the air the moment your sleeve was pulled up. 

Clive reached out to stop you, tightly grasping onto your shoulders. His hands drifted lower, just to your arms. “Please.” He looked so upset. He always looked so upset when he was with you, of course.. It was your fault he always felt so sad. He said nothing more, stepping close and hugging you tightly. You let go of your sleeve and let it slide back over your arm. “You shouldn’t hurt yourself.  Ever. No matter what you were told in the past.. It isn’t right, it’ll never be right.”

 You didn’t bother to hug him back. The action or… moment of such an intimate act didn’t feel right. “..I’m sorry.” You felt his head shake, lightly pressing against yours. He didn’t want you to apologize, you wondered why. 

When he pulled away, you took a small step back. “...Let us… speak of something else.”

“Right, I…” The rest of his sentence drifted off with the wind, coming to a sudden stop. “Mm..” He groaned, looking down. 

“What?” 

“In one of the letters… I meant to tell you..” He groaned once again, one of his hands pressing against his head. You reached out, resting your hand atop his. Very quickly, you threw your own dilemma out of the window and began worrying about him. “What? What’s wrong?” 

He looked at you the moment you had touched him with your own will. There was a slight shift in his expression, one you noticed. “..I need a moment.” He took a step back, finding a tree to sit against. You let him do what he wanted, raising a brow as you watched. You stepped over to your wagon and pulled the fabric off. You pulled out your firearm and slung it over your shoulder, glancing his way before taking the stack of letters. 

“You better not be dying yet.” You took a deep breath, taking long strides over to him. Once you kneeled beside him, you pulled the tied rope undone. “Which one is it?” You nudged the stack of letters towards him, not getting a response quick enough for your liking. “..Quickly!” You urged him, forcing the letters into his free hand. “Clive, I swear—”

His hand which had pressed against his head drifted back down, the other reaching to pull his glove off.  

Traces of blue trailed across his hands like veins, traces of aether. It looked to be… inside of his skin. You knew what this meant. Word of such a tortuous procedure had become known to you not long after you had begun working. The screams were etched into your brain during your time in confinement. Tortured beings reaching the end stage. 

You frowned, grasping the leather strap of your firearm. Death would be a mercy compared to this. 

Clive muttered your name. You gasped, unintentionally. “..There’s someone I want you to take me to, can you do that?” He reached out to take your hand, pulling it away from the gun. “She knows of…. this. I knew it was starting to get worse, that’s why I wanted to find you. And I did.” His hand squeezed yours, trying to keep you focused. “Please?” 

“It would be better if I killed you right now.” You said very honestly, not taking into account how harsh—and perhaps rude—it sounded. “Any longer and you’ll… you’ll change. I don’t want to see that, Clive. If I killed you right now—”

Again, he said your name. Only a little louder than before, “Please.” He patted the stack of letters with his free hand, “You’ll be able to find her… in one of the letters.” He was asking you to take him there because he wouldn’t be able to on his own. From one terrible dilemma to another. 

When he collapsed on you, you held onto him for a while before managing to drag him towards your wagon. It wasn’t… very big enough to hold him, but it was all you had. From where you were, the location he gave you seemed quite far. He groaned in his sleep but he never woke, you did your best to keep him warm but no matter what he remained a freezing temperature. You worried for him the entire course of the way. 

When you arrived, you doubted you would be able to find the woman he spoke of. You knocked on the door and didn’t get a response at first. “Hello..?!” You knocked again, speaking up this time. “I have…. I hope, a friend of yours! He’ll be dying out here if you don’t help–” The door opened in the midst of your shouting, a silver haired woman standing in front of you. She looked very beautiful, wearing clothes that seemed a bit unfit for cold weather. Almost everyone you had seen around here so far had been bundled up. “...A friend?” She spoke, looking over your shoulder. She spotted Clive inside of the wagon, and hurried past you. She would have bumped into you if you didn’t move beforehand.

You helped her drag him inside with your wagon in the other hand, leaving your surprise at the inside of her home for later. 

When she said it was mandatory that she tied him up, with a restraint that didn’t seem very easy to get off, you didn’t voice your worry. You helped her, because you believed it was mandatory too. When things like this happened to a Dominant, what would happen to the Eikon? Would they lose control, should they prime? 

“I found him when the… sickness began showing. By now, it will have spread across his entire body. What you saw on his hand was only a smidge.” She said her name was Jill, she said she wasn’t a healer… but she knew things, from a friend, so she said. She looked to be a fighter, very strong and very confident. “He told me to do that, when he came back. He told me he would come back when things were bad enough.” 

The room you had helped bring him to looked like some kind of lab room, terribly different from the rest of her fancy looking house. “Worst comes to worst…” She took a deep breath, looking down. Inner turmoil showed on her face. 

“I knew of the… sickness that would be injected into the helpless, in confinement. When I was dragged there, though, the screams….” You shuddered upon taking a deep breath, fingers curling into the kitchen counter the two of you stood at. “Death is a mercy. A merciful act compared to the pain he would experience, if you would keep him alive for… long enough.” 

Jill looked up, briefly smiling—though subtly. “Before he left, he said he wished to find someone. He only managed to find me by chance, on his journey…” She circled the counter over to your side, taking a half empty glass of water in her hand as she did so. “He thought me dead.”  This Jill, she looked very kind. She looked like someone who would be Clive’s friend, as strange as it sounded. Not in a bad way, of course. They both looked very strong. “This person… is it you?”

You swallowed, averting your gaze. “Maybe. I imagine he has thousands of friends he wishes to find, perhaps I’m just one of them.”

“Yes, but you seem to be exactly as he described.” She smiled, “But, if… if he happens to wake, try not to get too close.” 

You wondered how close they could have been in the past. “I wondered… since he’s a Dominant..”

“Decades ago, did they discover this… method to use dominants and bearers to their will. The Imperial Council. The bearer would… mutate as if they were akashic. But the Dominant…. Their Eikon would become monstrous, as they say. Without managing control, and finding some sort of cure, they’ll become irredeemable.”  

You frowned, not wanting to imagine such a thing becoming of him. “I imagine you’re trying to find a cure?” 

Jill nodded. “With it being documented as well as it is, it will be easy to find. But it is trial and error, there is no way to say if a cure from years ago will work now. I imagine this… disease will have evolved since then.” Of course, if they wish to continue this terrible procedure, they will make sure it is incurable. As much as they can. “Which is why, I must hurry and venture as much as I can today.” She gestured to the couch across from the both of you. “You could sleep there while you wait, help yourself if you’re hungry…”

You gave Jill your thanks, taking her offer and resting on her couch the moment she left. You could hardly sleep, though. You were too worried to do anything, just sitting until… something happened. You had shed some of your layers, folding them over and over to keep yourself busy. 

You did manage to drift to sleep at some point, the way you managed to fall asleep at all  became lost to you when you woke up—confused, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up.

You were immediately tired of sitting around, taking your firearm with you as you made way over to Clive. Your eyes stung when you stepped inside, not used to the bright lights after being in such a dimly lit room. “Ah..” He must have moved about in his sleep…. A lot. His cloak had been removed, the question of where his armor went lingered in your mind. You did not see any torn fabric or anything like that. “Clive..” He certainly was having a tough time. 

You stepped closer, frowning at the sight of aether along his body. 

“You shouldn’t get too close.” 

You didn’t expect him to speak, stopping in your tracks the moment you heard his voice. “Clive..?” You whispered, grasping the leather strap of your gun tightly. “You’re getting worse…” You still had the bullets you neglected in place of  magick for your gun. It would be easy to switch the mechanics, to load your firearm properly and give him the mercy he deserved.  “I don’t want to see you like this.”

“I know..” He struggled to speak, it was terrible to hear and see. “Jill… did she put me here?” 

“..I helped.” You wondered if he could hear that you were on the verge of tears right now. “What if I come back, and you’re worse than before?” You breathed audibly, quietly. You unraveled your firearm from your shoulder, stepping closer. “I don’t want..” You failed to finish your sentence, letting the gun fall from your grasp once you were close enough. You eyed the restraint, just one around his right wrist.  

You were just a few feet away from him. “Do you want me to kill you?”

He didn’t say anything. 

So you stepped closer, and you reached out. Your hands barely pressed against his cheeks, yanking your hands away at the burning feeling that seared into your skin. It scared you, but you didn’t run away. He was overheating, his body was going into overdrive trying to save itself. 

You reached out again, slowly and carefully. Before you could get close again, his free hand swiped at you. Claws had torn into your skin, a quick look at the same hand and it had transformed in seconds. Black and rocky skin, a crimson color burning through the cracks. You stumbled back, staring in bewilderment. You hurried to pick your gun back up. “...Next time. I will.” You hissed in pain, sucking in the air through your teeth. “..I won't let you go through any more pain.”

When you hurried out, you immediately ran straight to your wagon full of things. There was a specific type of bullets that you were given, which were called Crystal Bullets, or so Old Thomas had said. 

Bullets made of crystal, mined from the Mothercrystals and ‘altered’ to be something completely offensive. It enters the body and explodes. It injects a large enough amount of aether into the body, skipping the Akashic stage and killing just 5 minutes after impact. Completely fatal.  

Your mind was a complete mess the entire time you altered the firearm and loaded it with the bullets, not testing it. If it failed, it failed. You’d come to him tomorrow, not bothering to waste another moment more than necessary. You decided on rest, just for a couple of hours and your arm wasn’t aching.

When you woke up, the pain wasn’t much better, but you didn’t bother worrying about the pain when it was one simple action. If you needed to, you would. You’d accept Jill’s possible anger at you later. You wouldn’t allow someone to needlessly suffer for longer than they needed to. 

“Clive.” You pushed open the door, stepping in just a few steps only to realize… he wasn’t there. The bed he had been in was vacant, and the restraint was also missing. A hole in the wall remained in its place. You grasped the leather strap tightly and approached the bed. Fire burned on the white bedding, burning some type of message.  Your head tilted as you tried to read, “...Too much.” You read it aloud, eyes shifting around to try and see if there was anything else.

The quiet sounds of footsteps from behind yourself didn’t reach you. A warmth which slowly approached, reaching out to you. 

You looked over your left shoulder, barely enough behind you. You didn’t see anything, nor did you feel the same… offputting presence when you looked. You put it off as nothing, focusing back on what was ahead. “Where could you have possibly gone..?” You muttered. Just a second later, something sharp trailed down your back. Your shoulders tensed as a reaction, immediately looking over your shoulder once again. 

From above, a crimson beast crashed through. Black, rocky skin. He would have nearly pounced on you, had you not pulled your body down the fastest you could possibly go. The impact had knocked you down incorrectly though, knocking the firearm off of your body when you had fallen, somehow.  You had nearly gotten the wind knocked out of you as well. “What…” 

The gun slid across the floor, you watched as it went until it came to a good enough stop. Your teeth gritted, going as quickly as you could to crawl over. You could hear him actively struggling, losing so much control with every swing and hit he threw at you.  Your leg would have been burnt into naught but a fleshy mess if you didn’t crawl quick enough. 

Before you could attempt to even aim the gun at him, sharp claws swiped at your side, a rough and janky tear into your skin. He latched onto you somehow, pulling and throwing you close to where you had ducked down just a second ago. You hadn’t lost grip on your gun, rolling onto your back. It didn’t matter where you aimed, you just had to shoot at his body. 

You sucked in the cold air through your teeth, a tear escaping through your fluttering blinks.  Your finger pressed hard against the trigger, almost too hard.

Shards of ice had emerged out of nowhere, freezing you and your gun in place. Jill had come back, surrounding his monstrous form with giant shards of ice. Had you known she was a dominant, maybe you would have consulted her before being so foolish yesterday… “Hold on!” She exclaimed, finding and opening. 

Jill hurried over, jamming something sharp into his side and sealing it in place with frost. Or whatever it was, you could hardly see or focus with the ice that surrounded you. It felt like your limbs were about to fall off. 

The moment the object had been inside of his body for more than a few seconds, he went limp and collapsed on the spot. A fiery steam began to surround him, like all of the bad on his body was beginning to burn away. Jill hurried over to free you, “Are you alright?” She didn’t even flinch at the cold when she broke away the ice which surrounded you, pulling your firearm free and helping you up. “I had to hurry… seeing him make a hole in my ceiling from outside was cause enough.” 

“What… what did you do?” You groaned as you tried to sit up, eyeing the open wound in your side. You’d probably bleed out if you didn’t get help. “Hopefully, I cured that disease in his body. The pain will be temporary, I imagine.” 

“...Perhaps for me as well..” You mumbled, eyes squeezing shut. Jill could finally focus on you a bit more, now that the current threat was under better control. “Oh no…”  You could feel her ice cold hands grasp onto your shoulders, you must have lost consciousness right after that, remembering nothing past that before waking up elsewhere. 

You woke up five days later with a letter on the bedside table of what you assumed was a guest room, or else you’d feel quite bad about stealing Jill’s bedroom just to recover. 

“You were injured pretty badly, I imagine it’ll scar. I mended a few of your other wounds, If you wish to speak of it I will always lend my ear to you. You do not have to worry about me telling anyone, as I have no one to tell. 

Clive has been worried about you, he continues to ask about you. He has always been a bit of a worrywart, ever since we were children. I can tell a lot has troubled him, I just wish the world could be more kind. You are free to wash up in my washroom when you are able and help yourself to any food if you are famished. I had to change you out of your bloodied clothes, but I have since sewn them back up. They are inside the drawer alongside other clothes if you do not wish to wear your old ones again.” The note read, Jill’s fancy handwriting had you a bit envious. 

You set the note down, eyeing your mobility aid in the corner of the room properly propped up. You let the thing be, taking yourself to the washroom once you managed to find it. 

You washed your hair, stared at the state of your naked body and felt ashamed. An uncomfortable and unruly sight, you didn’t know why you kept doing this to yourself. You wondered if your legs would work for you by the time you got out of the bath, or if that monster would drag you underneath the water again. 

When you changed into your clothes and let your hair dry, you treaded back over to the guest room and assessed yourself. You took the time of putting the mobility aids around your two legs, and then you made the bed.

When you finished up, you sat back down on the bed and tried to think. 

…What now? You didn’t exactly know what to do. Clive had somewhere safe to stay, he didn’t need to follow you around anymore. You were fine travelling on your own, you were capable of taking care of yourself. You would be fine, if you left knowing he was alright. You’d be fine with getting letters. You’d be fine with everything.

You’d be very fine.

The bedroom door creaked open, your body twisted in the direction of the noise. Of course, Clive had come to check on you. He must have just gotten back, you didn’t see him or Jill earlier. “Oh..” 

He immediately frowned, remaining where he was. It looked stupidly awkward, you nearly laughed before remembering what had happened when you last spoke to each other. He must think you’re afraid of him. Or maybe it was the things you said before, if he was able to hear you then. “..Are you feeling alright..?” He pushed the door open a little more, just to step in and close the door. “..Does it still hurt?” 

“What..? Oh–” You rested your left hand against the wound on your side. Jill had done a good job with the stitches, you had to remove the bandages when you bathed yourself. Did he remember hurting you prior, as well? In your arm? “A little.” 

It upset him enough to sigh, looking down. “I’m sorry.” 

Sometimes, you had to remember you couldn’t laugh at the awkwardness of others feeling bad for you. For as long as you lived, it felt strange to see others sympathy. You remembered the words your mother fed you, and it altered your mind before it was anywhere close to fully developed.

Good things didn’t hurt. Good things will not hurt. 

You had to keep repeating to yourself in disguise of prayer so that it may work on your brain. 

“You weren’t in control of yourself.” You reminded him, resting your hand on your lap. “You did tell me not to get very close. And I did anyway.”

“But I was aware of everything else.” He argued, stepping closer. He came to an almost abrupt stop, as if afraid to let himself near you. “It felt like… there were strings attached to me, before. Like someone was forcing my hand, but I felt so exhausted… the will to stop myself was disappearing. I didn’t even try.” 

“You were out of control.” You rephrased your earlier sentence. A disease like that took years to progress, to trick the host into believing it was already gone until it was too late to reverse. “I’m not.. going to blame you, if you’re searching for me to be angry.”  You turned the other way, scooting yourself further onto the bed. 

“I don’t wish for you to be angry. I just.. feel terrible.” It took another moment for him to step closer. “I imagined you would detest me, for how badly I’ve hurt you.” He took a deep breath before speaking further, “When I came to… I saw how badly I had hurt you. I was too afraid to do anything.” 

You looked back in his direction, holding out your hand for him to take. “I imagined as much.” You watched him hesitate, but inevitably come close enough to take your hand. He sat next to you. You wished you could find a way to calm him down. “...You were worried nonstop when it came to me. But I suppose I asked for it, allowing you into my life the way I did.” 

“You mean… what happened three years ago?” 

You nodded, pressing your lips together. 

It was about time he told you. What the hooded man meant to him, why his brother had been there that night. “Everything that happened…” He let go of your hand, hardly imagining you’d be so accepting of him after he finished. “The hooded man, whatever… had haunted your home. Whatever we saw, back at phoenix gate… I can only believe all of it is connected, even now.” His hands pressed down at his sides, firm against the edge of the mattress.

“Before, at Phoenix Gate, when I accompanied my brother as his shield. That same night, upon the invasion, I saw a hooded man of the same description. When you had described the man you came across… everything clicked.” He hadn’t looked at you once since he began explaining everything. Again, he seemed afraid. “He would have only come for me, he should have. But his goal is to torment me, as it was all those years ago..” 

He braved past his subtle fear, grasping tight onto the covers as he looked into your direction. “I had thought he vanished the same night he had appeared. But the moment I came to care for someone else….” The worst part was, you hadn’t said anything. You were staring at the floor, just listening. He couldn’t read your expression. “...I dragged you into this. Again, I’ve ruined…” 

You looked up, shoulders tensing. 

He called your name, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “I never…” He had felt like a coward more than he ever thought he would, when he was with you. He wouldn’t be surprised, if you wanted nothing to do with him after everything. 

“I see..” You mumbled, eyes drifting back down. “It seems… our lives were quite unfortunate, since forever.” You took just one deep breath, slowly turning your head to look at him. “Not on purpose, of course…?” 

“No, of course not..!” 

“Then…” Your lips pressed together, and you averted your gaze once more. “You could have blamed me for something I dragged you into as well. Multiple times.”  Your hands rested on your lap. You couldn’t understand why you weren’t more… angry, but you didn’t really wish to be. “The both of us… have been plagued with a strange…. entity of sorts.” Perhaps it was the same thing which haunted you before that began to torment you in the twisted form of your mother, or a product of your own hallucinations. But, nevertheless…. “A fault that belongs to none of us.”

“You are not angry with me?” Sometimes, your words confused people. You spoke in vagueness more often than not. “..I could be. Do you want me to be?”

“I feel like I deserve it.” Perhaps it felt right, morally perhaps. But intimately, emotionally… 

You didn’t give him a definite answer. Perhaps in the future you’d be angry, when he was far enough away from you. You just reached to take his hand back in yours and hold it just as tight as before. “..Will you be fine, from now on? Now that you have your friend?” 

Your sudden shift in topic confused him, “I… I think so, yes.” This place seemed spacious enough. If he had to go into hiding again, maybe he’d never have to step out and have better luck. “But, I think I would—”

“If I left today, would you be alright?” 

You could feel him tense, just a little. He had been away from you before, but in the end he managed to find you like he always had been. He had seen you leave before, but you always came back. It didn’t feel right, the thought of being separated. Even though those moments from years ago were brief, the thought of being apart never… came to him so easily. Even when he knew he wouldn’t have been staying for long, per his promise when you allowed him to stay in the comfort of your home, perhaps the subtle thought of asking you to come with him had lingered without him realizing. 

“You’re leaving?” Would the offer of going with you be too selfish, especially after all he had done since meeting you after three years apart? Did he deserve such a luxury? 

“After I woke up… I kept wondering, what do I do now?” Your eyes drifted from his, slowly pulling away… “I’ve wondered all the time if you were still alive, running away from who knows what. But after finding you, putting you in safe hands…. It’s like, what purpose do I have now? What should I do?” You were subtly worrying about him all the time, and you had been fine without anything to do but take care of yourself on your own. “I was fine… with the thoughtless process of carrying on, on my own. So maybe I should continue like that, until my legs give out and I die.. perhaps.” You remembered wanting to keep him around. 

“You don’t…” To ask such a selfish question, he hesitated.. “You don’t want me to come with you?”

You looked at him. You would have asked, had you not held your tongue. What a selfish question. “You do not wish to stay with Jill?”

“She imagined something of the same, while you were…. here.” He reached out, resting his hand near yours. “But if you do not want me to..” 

You frowned. “It is not that I wish to be apart from you. But I do not wish to drag you around with me, if it is not what you truly want.” 

“I want to be with you.” He confessed, still unable to hide how upset he looked. He scooted closer towards you, taking your hand into his for the millionth time. He squeezed hard enough, not wanting to let go of you this time. “It doesn’t feel right, parting from you so soon.” He came even closer, tugging you close into his warm embrace. “I still have much to tell you. A letter won't feel right.”

This moment felt better. Your hands pressed against his back, holding onto him a little less tighter than he was. “Try not to die before you can tell me, again.” When you felt him laugh, you smiled. 

Afterward, neither of you said anything for a few seconds. Just a few seconds, before Clive could no longer hold his tongue. First, he softly called your name. 

“..The other day. When you came back to me, the second time..” His hands rubbed at your back, subtly.  “For a moment, I think I was there. And I think I knew you were there, I felt it.” He squeezed tighter, pulling you almost impossibly close to him. “I remember reaching out to you.” A beat. His forehead pressed against your shoulder, “...Did you feel it too?”

Your lips pressed together. The air had shifted the moment he asked you, and it had begun to settle in how close the both of you were. “Mm.” You hummed in agreement, squeezing him tighter. “After, you…” You felt him touch your back, briefly, before… 

Clive drew back, his face quite close to your own. This close, you could stare directly into his glistening eyes and find something inside, probably. “I touched you, didn’t I?”  He was so far gone back then, now that he was himself once more, he was desperate to know if that touch was real. If he managed to reach you, he wished to know. “You felt it too, right?” The way he was acting, you could compare him to that of a desperate animal. He leaned close, desperate to hear you say something. “I tried my hardest to reach you..”

Your hands inched toward his face, fingers raking through the strands of his hair. It felt very soft to the touch, you almost didn’t want to let go. “I feel you right here.” You angled your hands enough to press your palms against his cheeks. “Before.. for a moment, I felt you there. Behind me.” 

“I really wanted to kill you before.” You whispered, as quiet as you could.  “I wanted…” You could hardly keep a straight face, feeling his body shift against yours.  

You felt his lips just barely brush against yours. For a moment…

You said your goodbyes and expressed your gratitude to Jill, stepping out first. It only took a minute or two for Clive to come out and follow behind you. You were told of the nearest Inn by Jill specifically, it wasn’t very close but you planned on getting far.

You weren’t sure if you actually kissed him. You hadn’t been in any romantic involvement with anyone until now, due to the way your life was. It wasn’t often that others would take interest in someone whose body wasn’t 100%.  “It’s rather far, I don’t know if she told you.” You weren’t given a map, but you were up for exploration anyway. “Breaks will be needed, of course. But..”

“If you need me to carry you..” Clive looked at you, he wondered if you were still thinking about it. Of course, it wasn’t something… terribly crazy, but it was something serious. If none of you spoke about it for long enough, it could mean nothing. He didn’t want it to mean nothing. “Thank you.” You glanced his way, pressing your lips together. You wished to do a better job at hiding how anxious you felt, always doing the same thing and giving it away. 

Two days travel.  That’s all it took, you only took necessary breaks, which eventually shifted into being carried the whole way. You denied the suggestion of being wheeled around in your wagon the moment he suggested it.  The thing was terribly uncomfortable to sit in. “I’ll see if we can get a room.” You politely ordered him to wait outside just in case. “Just wait here.” You always had enough gil on your because you never bought anything. You were used to sleeping outside and hunting for your own food by now. 

Going inside, you set down just enough gil for one room. “Just one room, please. Is this enough?” There was a man behind the desk, he didn’t look very friendly. “Just one more..” He said, not offering any room for negotiation by the look on his face. You held back a sigh and dug inside your bag full of gil, setting down another gold coin. “..Just you staying here?”

“I have someone with me. A body guard.” Clive told you to use the excuse should anyone ask. “Do I have to pay more for that?” 

“No. Tell him to sleep on the floor, there's only one bed in these rooms unless you pay double.” 

You internally groaned at the man's outrageous prices. You could sleep far enough from Clive if need be. “..The floor is fine, thank you.” You stepped back outside after successfully paying, the furrowed brow on your face quite obvious.

“What happened?” 

“I had to pay more than expected. I’d have to pay double if I wanted a room with two beds, so we’re a bit out of luck.” 

Clive didn’t seem very upset at the predicament. With how he was acting before, obviously not. “Come on, let's go.” You went back inside first, taking long strides over to where your reasonably priced room was located. 

It didn’t look terrible for what you gave the man, a quite decent room for a night's stay. “At least it’s warmer inside.” You shed some of your layers but not all of them, removing your mobility aids on your aching legs and sitting down on the bed. To your genuine surprise, the bed was really comfortable. “It feels nice, this bed.” You pressed your hand into it, forgetting it wasn’t completely healed and regretting it immediately after. “At least we’ll be comfortable. Unless you want the floor.”

He sat down next to you, pressing into the mattress as well. “Soft..” Was all he said, something obviously on his mind. You could guess just what it was. 

“Clive.” You tilted your head, staring at his hand for a second before meeting his gaze. “What’s.. bothering you?”

He looked right at you in a way you couldn’t understand. It made you feel anxious, in a good way. You couldn’t read him. “You..” Quietly, he confessed his troubles. You and your vagueness, always bothering someone with it. Your indecisive mind, your lack of… visibility. “You are what is bothering me..”

“Is it because I said I wanted to kill you?”

“No, because you should have, had things gone any further. I don’t mean that.” You watched his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, watched as he resisted the urge to come closer and hold you like before. You watched him hesitate. You wondered why. “Do you… just want to forget it? What happened?” 

Sometimes, you appeared a flat surface in the face of others.  Sometimes people couldn’t understand you. “Forget…” You tested the word on your lips, it felt like eating fruit that was starting to go bad. Not too wrong but not too right either.

“Clive..”

 You reached out.

Before you could touch anything, he took the initiative of getting closer. He wished to find your graceful touch himself, to fall into it. Like before. 

You cradled his face in your hands again. “If you don’t stop, I wont change my mind now..” You quietly warned, inching your face just the slightest bit closer. He shook his head, moving closer and closer.  He did not want you to change your mind, he wanted exactly what was in front of him. “Then..” You didn’t finish your sentence. He didn’t let you, 

He kissed you properly this time, keeping you as impossibly close as before. 

You brought the rest of him just a little closer, spreading your legs just enough to let him sink between and into you. “A… ah..” You forgot to breathe, drawing back the moment you were close enough to the bed. He found it almost impossible to be even a few feet away from you right now, fingers intertwining with yours.  “Cant breathe…” You told him between quiet, panting breaths. “Need a moment..”

He took the opportunity to kiss you elsewhere, kissing your face, your neck afterwards. “I would much like to remember this, if you would like..” 

You couldn’t tell if he was joking. You entertained it anyway. “If that is what you want..” Your eyes followed as he made his way back to you, lips back on yours like nothing had ever happened. He helped lift you from the bed, one hand still holding onto yours. “I want you..” He said before squeezing said hand. “I want to be yours.”

You’d say he was being very forward. You’d ask him to consider such a thing before saying it out loud. “Me…?” You heard him hum in agreement to your quiet question.

Your grasp on his hand loosened just a bit, your free hand pressing against. You wondered if he was such a hopeless romantic that he could fall in love with you so quickly. “Why?”  You thought you could be pretty sometimes, your hair looked nice most times and you dressed nicely. Was that it? You wouldn’t be upset at the reason, you only wished to know. 

“I dreamt of you..” His kisses had ceased a moment ago, but he was far from done. “It started.. not long after we were separated. Every night I spent alone, I’d..” Dreams came out of the blue, dreams were always good. You yourself didn’t have many dreams, nor did you have many nightmares. “Most of the time.. it would always be the day you came to save me.” He moved your hand a bit, wanting you to squeeze tighter but not saying anything. “More than anything, I wanted you to find me again.”  

His glistening, big eyes welled up with tears. He looked adorable, you almost said something.  

“Other times… I dreamt of the day I had.. covered you in flowers. Do you remember?” You remembered, of course, because there wasn’t much good to remember compared to the bad. You remembered all the small things too, the few times he held your hand and all of the times he carried you, or offered to. “Each time, you.. you somehow look more beautiful than before.”

“You dream of me?” 

He nodded, quietly humming as he did so. For some reason, it felt as if.. he was terribly desperate for your approval. Or.. something similar.

Maybe you were just telling yourself these things to fool your brain.

Loving someone wasn’t supposed to feel strange. You remembered what your mother said about him during the few times she spoke of him, after. She was so much in love that she could hardly feel her fingers when she was in love with him, before they had gotten married. After they had gotten used to each other, the buzzing fingers and pounding hearts had lessened. 

“The first time I felt it again after so long, was when I lied in bed with him. On the same night, we made you.” 

Perhaps, your mother confided in you a lot of things she shouldn’t have with a child. You wouldn’t tell someone so young such a thing, you grew to understand something like that was terribly wrong. You could not understand why it didn’t feel as immoral when you remembered it happening to you with your mother. A growing child like you should come to understand adult hardships. 

The act of  love felt alright to you on the surface. When you acted upon it, though, it felt… odd. The thought of loving anyone brought you to the immediate future, a possible dream should it go the way you believed. The act of carrying a child, the thought of nourishing it and caring for it. Cutting and braiding its hair. The act of having a wonderful husband, who just so happens to get ill. The act of discovering his unfaithfulness, and acting upon it.

You felt dizzy, and your brain felt like a leaking faucet. 

You had dreams before. People were in your dreams before, but you wouldn’t say you dreamt of them. You were always dreaming about something else, about something distant and confusing. Your brain confused you as much as you tried to confuse it, which would throw you in a dizzying loop of question marks and fatigue. 

After you kissed him, after you fell asleep. You had a dream, and he was there. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Since two years ago, he kept appearing in your dreams like a ghost. You wondered if your mother dreamed of your father the same way. If he was just… there, or if in her dreams she was just as head over heels as she described. 

You wondered if those buzzing fingers and heavy heartbeats were the true love your mother described, or if she had disguised it as something else to ail her troubled mind. Had it been true? Did your mother question her own mother this much, long after her passing? 

The two of you had left the Inn just after spending the night. After traveling enough, the two of you found someplace to rest for the night. You took the moment to step away when he fell asleep, walking far enough until you found a lake—nearly frozen over. You pressed your foot against the ice, breaking through it with enough pressure. 

You weren’t looking to get in, you just sat down in front of it. You had stolen Clive’s dagger off of him when he was asleep for long enough, careful enough so that he didn’t even move a muscle. 

Sitting alone, in the dark and the freezing cold, you tugged your skirt up just enough. As well as the warm layers underneath, you shivered again. You removed your boots momentarily to shed off the warm leggings around your legs, pressing your thighs together to stimulate warmth. It was all you needed, just for now. “Mm..” 

The cold metal grazed the skin of your right thigh, eyes watering the moment you pressed harder. Your eyes twitched when the skin broke and tore apart. Slowly and subtly, the dam of flesh and blood broke apart. You sucked in the air through your teeth, cutting your skin with shaky hands. 

Your body shook the deeper you cut, pulling the blade away and pressing against an untouched part of skin. Again you cut, your body shifting and writhing about as the pain coursed through you. You got dizzy, you felt delirious for a few moments, but you persisted. You moved toward your forearm, slitting deep into your skin near older cuts that had already been there for a couple of weeks. 

When you finished, you stole a handful of snow and pressed it hard against the cuts on your thigh. Your body shook and your groans grew louder. 

When you stood from where you sat, you stumbled over, dagger still in hand. Every little step brought welcomed pain. 

When you came back, the fire had diminished much more from when you last sat there, hardly able to see him now. He was still asleep, he hadn’t even noticed you left. “Hm… mm…” You cried a little because it hurt so much, you never really had a tough tolerance for pain. You would be weak in the eyes of your mother. You’ve never seen her cry because of it. 

After your father had gotten sick. It took only two years for him to become unfaithful.

You did not imagine Clive would do something like that.

However.. 

The loud crunching snow beneath your feet woke him up. You stood like a twitching beast, holding his dagger tight. You didn’t bother cleaning it. “Having trouble sleeping..?” You whispered, as if the sight of you wasn’t a big enough problem. In the dim firelight, he could just barely see the trail of blood you left behind when you walked back over. The fingers of your left hand were covered in blood.

“What…” He muttered, eyeing the dagger in your hand immediately. The dagger was his own, obviously. His hand rested over the empty sheath. “..What happened?” He pressed his hand against the tree he had been sleeping against to help him stand. 

“Following..” You murmured, staring off to the side afterward. “..After my father got sick with something. It only took him two years to think someone other than my mother was worth loving.” You knew he remembered, because you told him.  “You aren’t terrible. I know you aren’t.”

You slid your feet closer towards him, kicking up snow. “I think I want to hurt you.” Your brows furrowed and you looked down. “..Why?” He asked you very quietly. You wondered if he was afraid, or if you hardly seemed like a threat to him. “Wait, you…” He looked back down at the trail of blood in the snow, and then at his dagger. “..What did you do?”

Your mother taught you to hurt none but yourself unless necessary. He remembered that, he was starting to remember that a lot more now. 

Your head nudged downwards, not very pleased at his accusation. It was true, you had done something terrible to yourself.  You frowned, taking a small step back. Maybe he thought it was easier than it actually was, to stop patterned behavior such as yours. “I could have just hurt you.” You gave a flimsy excuse.

“I would have preferred if you did none of those things..” 

You held your breath, letting the dagger fall from your grasp. Every so often, blood dripped from your body and onto the snow beneath you. “You can’t marry me.” Your deflection threw him off guard, way too much. “..What?” But your words made sense, at least to you. To your mind and the way you thought about things, everything made sense. “My mother married my father. He got sick too.” You wondered how strange you looked right now, struggling to stand on your own two feet. “You were sick before.” 

Suffocated in the clutches of your mother. You could only cut at your skin so much until you hit something vital and let yourself bleed out. You couldn’t escape her voice in your ear and the temperature of her warmth when she held you before. “If you allow yourself any closer to me. I can’t guarantee everything my mother taught me won’t be followed through.” 

“You’re stronger than her now.” Clive’s hand drifted from the tree, taking slow steps over to you. You were still bleeding, a lot. He wondered how you were still standing, your legs weren’t very strong either. “Whatever binds she had on you before, when you were a child… you can break them. I know you can.” 

You shook your head, blinking rapidly. You couldn’t tell if you were struggling not to cry because of the pain, or because you were upset. Mayhap both? “I have her face. My hair is just as long as hers was.” You were just as miserable and hopeless, just as confused and troubled. “She put a spell on me, didn’t she? She told me we would never be apart.” You hurried to pick the dagger back up, stumbling back a few steps. “She taught me lots of things.”  You held up the dagger, though not exactly pointing it at anything. It was closer towards your face than anything else.

 “Who will I hurt, if I cannot hurt you or myself? Where will I get it out?” Your fingers shifted the blade in your direction, “Where will I place the hurt, if my blade cannot touch the skin of whom I please?” Your eyes widened, giving him a look. You dared him to step closer, you dared him to give you just the push you needed.  

He held his breath. Perhaps you would get hurt, but he went ahead anyway. 

You had tried to move back upon seeing him hurry over. You could often forget your situations very quickly, even forgetting you had injured yourself and couldn’t move as quickly as you usually could. Pain shot through your leg, losing your balance and allowing Clive to stop you. You collapsed in the effort, losing the dagger in the chaos. 

He hovered over you for a moment.  He barely came close enough, he wished to hold onto you and keep you from doing anything stupid. You stared at him, wide-eyed. You stared at him as if he had done something wrong. You glanced to your left, the dagger lying not very far from you. When you noticed, so did he. The moment you reached for the weapon, so did he. 

Your hand fumbled against his, fighting him with a weak body for the slim chance you could hurt yourself. “Let go!” You struggled, hitting his chest with your other hand. “And let you do this..?!” He argued, struggling to keep you restrained. 

“Ah…” Your mouth opened just enough, gasping the moment you had managed to get a good enough grasp back on the handle. “Agh!” You swung the blade thin against the left side of his face, the force of it getting him off of you. The force had winded you a little, your body rolling into the snow.  Your nails dug into the snow, peeking over your arm when you lifted your head. You could hardly see anything, the fire had died out and it was all dark.

He didn’t say anything, hand pressed against his face. Blood trickled down from his face, through the gaps of his fingers. You felt the sharpness of the blade firsthand, you must have cut deep.

You cut into his ear, and diagonally down from there.

You could see your heavy breaths in the cold air, knuckles digging deep into the snow. “Ah…” You made no move to get closer, eyes trailing down to your lap. You bled through your skirt, and onto the snow. “I’m s….” You slowly blinked, struggling to keep balance. 

Clive sat there for a moment. His head began throbbing, for as long as he sat there, he fought against dizziness. His head nudged in your direction, “..What?” 

You lost your grip on the dagger, pressing your palms hard against the ground to try and stand up. “I don’t know why I…” You stumbled like a babe that couldn’t keep its head up, not even lasting a few seconds standing up until you collapsed. 

You didn’t quite lose consciousness, but you couldn’t move and it became harder to hear things. It felt like your body was finally starting to shut down on you, you didn’t try to fight any of it. You let yourself drift off to sleep after making such a big fuss, you let the cold air and the chilling snow freeze you over.

Warmth came next, something like a warm blanket. Something heavy, and something uncomfortable beneath you. 

The hard ground was what had been beneath you, and the heavy fabric which covered your wagon of things had been laid on top of you. Clive had stolen the bandages from inside your wagon and bandaged your torn up legs. He hadn’t done the same for your arm, maybe he didn’t notice.  

The night had passed and morning had come. When you sat up, you saw him sitting away from you. Quietly, you stood up and treaded towards your wagon. The quiet creek of you sitting inside of the thing got his attention. You set the fabric inside the wagon, not bothering to put it back the way it was.  

“Do you want to go back?” Maybe he’d want nothing to do with you anymore after this, if he was a normal person. This time, he’d finally be on his merry way and never speak to you again. This had to be it, or else you could worry what other things he’d allow you to do and still remain at your side. “...To be with your friend?” You elaborated.

“..I don’t know.” 

You worried if he could still hear out of his left ear. You still couldn’t see, you had tried to remove your eyepatch before and still couldn’t see very well out of your eye. “...I’m sorry.” The words croaked out awkwardly, hands fidgeting on your lap. “You can still hear, can you? It wasn’t that bad?” 

“It just hurts, quite a bit..” He looked away tossing a stick into the fire. He made another one in your brief moment of sleep. “...Do you want me to go back?”

“If you stay, I might do something like that again.” Your head leaned against your shoulder, taking a deep breath. “I told you, didn’t I? That if…”  You felt so heavy, so weighed down by everything. Even if you laid down, the feeling wouldn’t lessen. No matter how many deep breaths you took… “I wish… I wish I could go back.” Your body ached and your head swarmed with impossible thoughts, impossible visions of something only achievable in a faraway dream. If you let him come with you, everything would be impossible. 

He would disallow death and harm that would come from your hand, with a smile and a vow of protection. 

“..Back to when you covered me in flowers, when I could only think of my mother in the depths of my mind.” Your brows furrowed and you stared at him for a few seconds longer. Sometimes, you wished you could be in his shoes for a few moments. To understand the thoughts of a correct mind, to differentiate right from wrong in a mind wired by correctness. “But then… you went and fell in love with me. I went and got myself dragged into hell and now she’s the center of every thought I conjure.” You could feel yourself starting to lose your composure, hands reaching for your hair and grasping tightly onto it. “She used to be buried away…”

You pulled at your hair, enough for you to look down and lean over while you were doing it. “But then, all of this nonsense came. And I start remembering everything..” You wouldn’t say it was his fault. Deep in your heart, though, it wouldn’t feel right to blame your mother. You were supposed to feel that way, because she made you.  

When your mother died, your hands had been bathed in her blood. She whispered to you, not to waste her body, to give in to something greater and give her body to the same thing. When you spent hours dragging your mothers corpse to the flowerbed in the backyard of your home, you plucked every stem and forced each flower into every inch of her open wounds. You had given her to the beautiful sight near your home despite the chaos, your hands which had been stained with her blood had smeared across your face. 

You had bathed your conscience in the last lingering and physical quality of your mother that lasted within her. And, following suit, you grew to look exactly like her. You would argue, that she had taken your body to use as her own, while you were sleeping. 

Just the smallest bit of her blood had graced your tongue, and had been swallowed with your spit. 

“I don’t understand why I can’t break free of her.” Your hands yanked away from your hair, gasping as your sat back upright. “You don’t know how hard it is, do you?” Your voice rose, pressing your balled up hands hard against your thighs. You winced at the pain that came with it. 

“Hey, don’t—” Clive moved towards you, reaching out to keep you from further hurting yourself. 

“I can’t even look at myself!” Your hands fumbled against his, eventually pushing them away. “It’s not as easy as you make it sound, to just… become my own person!” You could stare at your face and not see a single facet that belonged to you. Nothing unique and one of a kind. You had your mothers smile and the so-called boldness your father claimed for her to have when she was younger and still falling head over heels for him. You had your mothers kindness and ability to face your hardships with a straight face.

 You imagined when she lost her composure, she acted the same way you did. 

It was like she had taken bits and pieces of herself and conjured a spell. When you came out of her, did she already have everything planned for you? Did she hear your cries when you were but a babe and become reminded of her own? 

“I don’t even know who I am anymore!” You looked down and covered your face with your hands, “I can’t look at myself. I can’t speak, I can’t do anything. No matter what I do to myself, I can’t get rid of her.” You hurt yourself the same as her, you screamed and shouted just the same as her. You did your hair in similar ways that she would, you did everything in the same calculated way of action just as she did.  “It’s irreversible, what I’ve done to myself. While you weren’t there to see.”

“What you’ve done to yourself? ..What did you do?” Clive reached back out, taking your hands into his.  

“I focused my every being… into what she taught me. Into getting stronger, so that I could only depend on myself.” You squeezed his hands this time instead of letting go. “I can’t go back to who I was, the person I was when you met me.” In your moments of uninterrupted quiet, it had been the only time you could think about her. But.. since, in the span of a week, your life had twisted and turned, your mind had sought after her in the childish comfort you chased after when you were still a child. “I wish I could.” 

“You could. If it’s truly what you want, you could.” Perhaps it was so easy for him to say something like that because he had never been in your shoes.  

“What makes you think that?” 

“I think that because you’re still here.”  He leaned closer, “Whatever you want to become. You’re still here, you have all the time in the world right now to make that possible.” His thumbs rubbed back and forth against your knuckles. You wondered if it felt painful to hold such cold hands, drastically contrasting his warm ones. “You have to believe that, at least. Can’t you?” 

Your lips pressed together, you looked down and didn’t answer. Every attempt you made to change yourself proved futile to you. “...I don’t know how to change.” Your words came out cowardly and quiet, “No matter what… ideas I come up with, somehow… it feels like it was her idea before mine, like she had done it before and I’m only following in her footsteps.”

You grasped onto his hands so much tighter. “She’ll never allow me to think for myself.” 

“..I’ll help.” Just a slight bit more, he leaned closer. “I’ll help you become the person you want to be. I will.” In the amount of time you spent with him since reuniting, you had been more of a threat to him than someone to trust. “What?” You didn’t understand his willingness to remain with you. 

“You’ve helped me so many times, and I’ve hardly done my part in repaying you.”

“Don’t you remember what I just did, last night?” You’ve tried to kill him at least three times now, or was he choosing to ignore that?

“I do.”

“Then why?”

His mouth opened to say something, hesitating before deciding not to. He looked down. Perhaps he had a foolish reason, something good enough for him but terribly confusing regardless. “I love you.” He looked back up, right at you.  You frowned at the words he said to you, he remembered what you told him last night didn’t he? “You know that already, but…” 

“You can’t do this.” Half of you had hoped he’d let things be and let those few moments you shared together be forgotten. “You remember what I told you, I know you did. Very clearly.” 

“You wanted to know why, didn’t you?” He looked back down, staring at your hands. The longer he held on, the warmer they became. “I could leave, like you want me to. But what would happen to you, if I did? What would you do to yourself if I let you be?” 

The wind picked up, a soft few gusts that tumbled through your hair. “I can’t go any further than this.” What if he forgot, and he asked for your hand in marriage on the assumption that things were different? What if he believed he had helped you? 

Quietly, Clive called your name. “I promise, I’ll do everything I can to—-”

“You’ll fix it? You’ll find a way to undo everything?” You impolitely interrupted him. Was your mother this impolite to your father? Did they argue before? Before he became unfaithful? 

“I told you that you had a chance to become the person you want to be, to be yourself. Who you truly are, beyond… beyond your mother.” He let go of your hands and cupped your cheeks. “I promise, I’ll do everything I can to see that through.” 

Hearing him swear to you something so impossible made you feel dizzy. You gazed into his eyes and listened to him lie about something he wasn't aware he was lying about just yet. You wish you had the courage to tell him.

The first thing you asked of him, was to visit your old homestead. The abandoned village of where you used to live as a child, long abandoned and likely rebuilt into something else. It was a long journey, all of it spent off of your feet after Clive’s constant pleas of you remaining seated. He wanted you to heal, so.. you obliged to keep stress from his mind.

You gave him the directions once you were close enough. Directions that were mostly guesses, which turned into eventual and factual answers the closer you got. Even all grown up, you still remembered the way back home. 

When you saw the sight of your old village, it looked… run down. People were there, you saw them tending to their chores and doing whatever it was they had to do. There were houses that looked intact, steam coming out of chimneys and lanterns lit. Others looked abandoned, left to time and untouched. Some of the untouched houses, you scarcely remembered. “There…” You pointed to a house in the far right, “..I remember, one of the old women used to live there. And another… a little girl, who used to pick on me.” Your mother always had to apologize to the woman for any injuries the girl turned up with. You had a short temper then. 

“Did you live close? Maybe your mother’s home is still here.”  He lifted you from your wagon without question, helping you stand up properly without question. During your journey here, he had done much to help. You thanked him, though internally you believed he didn’t have to go out of his way to do such a thing. “..Yes. If I remember the way, I could probably find it. Or where it used to be.” 

It was a slow walk through the snow to your mother’s house.  Your feet remembered the way before your brain did, strangely enough. An abandoned home, stuck in time. The door still creaked when you opened it, only louder and more annoying than how it had been years ago. The door had remained unlocked after all this time. 

You didn’t know how to feel, stepping into your home after all of these years. “She always slept in until the evening..” You stepped over towards her bedroom. It was always directly across from the front door, always cracked open just enough for you. “Or, she just lied in bed until the evening. Whenever she saw me peeking in, because I always needed her for something, she’d always want me to lie with her.”  You pushed the bedroom door open some more. 

Her bed was messy, she never made it because she was always lying down if she wasn’t doing something with you.  You always lied with her, her hands and feet were always so cold but the rest of her had always been so warm. You remembered the giggles you shared with her when she pushed her cold feet against your legs. “Despite everything… I really loved her.” Of course, you would love your mother. Maybe in ways different than others, but you were still a child.  “I really enjoyed the fun things we did together.” 

You sat on your mother’s bed, lifting up her pillow and finding nothing underneath. You looked at her bedside table, and then you glanced at Clive. “Look around, if you want. It isn’t like she’ll mind.” Maybe he could find a cure to the mystery illness your mother had cast upon you the moment she gave birth to you. “...Alright. If I find anything… I’ll let you know.” He stepped out of the room, taking himself over to the one on the far left.

It was your old bedroom he took himself to, by accident. It was like time had frozen. Your small sized bed still had your old stuffed animal inside, the covers kicked around in your sleep—probably. You had pretty pink covers, little shapes sewn onto your warm blanket. There was a small, ground level little bookshelf of storybooks. 

There was a stale smell inside of your room. The top drawer of your nightstand was open, with what looked like a diary on the inside. He didn’t bother to read it, out of blatant respect, but he did take it. Something like that shouldn’t be left behind, he believed. 

When he stepped out of your room, you were no longer inside of your mothers room. You stood in the kitchen, staring at..  something.  He called your name, but it didn’t bring your attention. “I found something… I thought you should take it with you, rather than…” 

Your fingers curled around the wooden counter, nails pressing hard against the surface. Coming closer, it looked like a letter that you were reading. The paper had yellowed over time, and the writing had faded a little. “..My mother…. never really spoke of her own mother. Only once or twice..” You hardly remembered either of those moments. “I wondered how she was with her mother… long after she..” You had been frowning the entire time you had been reading the letter. “Perhaps I thought…” 

Your right hand lifted and slid the letter over, allowing him to read it. 

Clive stepped closer, picking up the old piece of paper. 

“You may never find this, whoever it may be that’s reading this. It may be decades from now, if my writing hasn’t faded since then. I don’t know who to tell, I have no one to tell anymore. The only person that knew of this part of myself was my husband, and it has been three days since I killed him. 

I’m losing myself. I am no longer who I was before, and I cannot go back to the way I was.

My mother, and mayhap her mother before her, hadn’t ever been the perfect mother. She taught me so many things, things a child probably shouldn’t have known. I will never unlearn what she taught me, and I will never unbecome what she has molded me into. 

She has molded me into the perfect daughter, A woman who looks exactly like her mother and carries every bit of who she once was. I wonder, if my father saw me now, would he be heartbroken at the sight of me? 

My mother taught me how to carry her with me, how to be like her like I wished to when I was little. And for as long as I can remember, I have been afraid.  I have been plagued with this illness, and I will be unable to free myself from my mother’s clutches and I imagine she had felt the same. 

I have never seen my grandfather, I have never seen my grandmother. Death will become of me, it has followed my mother into her madness and it will follow me.  I have a daughter of my own, and I know she will face the same fate. I will teach her everything and let her know everything, and I will leave her to madness, just as my mother has left me with mine. 

The moment I held her body in my arms, the moment she came out of me and I stared at her crying face, I could swear I felt my fingers weave strings around her tiny little hands and feet. This goodness will hurt forever, I can only hope she does not follow in my footsteps anymore than she already has.”

..The letter read. 

“She cursed me.” Your eyes squeezed shut. “The moment she gave birth to me, she knew how things would carry out for me.” Your shoulders slowly rose and fell, turning in Clive’s direction. “You’ve seen why I wanted you to leave, but you do more than anything now, don’t you?”  You wondered what had conjured this curse in your family, who had been the one to lose their mind first? Who had been the one to make you face the consequences of everything so many years later? 

“So many years from now, I could kill you. I could. I don’t want you to face anything like that just because of…. of everything.” You looked down, struggling to keep yourself calm. Your hands trembled, pressing your left back against the counter. 

“As long as you keep not wanting this, it won't happen. Your will is the most important thing.” 

“It won’t be about what I want anymore.”  You eyed the letter, which Clive still held onto. “I stopped wanting a lot of things, I stopped thinking about the… foolish little things I used to, before…” You’d rather take your life this very second than carry out what fate would will you to do. You wished so badly to see the puppet strings still tied to your limbs. “Soon enough, I’ll stop being myself at all. Maybe that’ll be after..” You halted, holding your tongue. At least you had the will to stop yourself. 

If love was the catalyst of this curse, you were better off living a loveless and lonely life. For the better of you and him. 

“If you let yourself follow in the footsteps of your mother, that’s all this will be.” He set the letter down, sliding it back towards you. “If you do not let yourself fight, if you do not let yourself break free of her… “

Since you were little, you had always been afraid of imaginary things. Of monsters that lurked in the dark, beasts under your bed, nightmares that made no sense. And now, the strange shadow of your mother that follows you around everywhere you go. Your mother had instilled fear within you, planted in you a need to run to her for her comfort and cradling. 

The unusual and strange fear of your mother lingered with you since you were so young, as well as the want for her. For as long as you could remember anything, your mother held you as if she was afraid. She cradled your head close to her heart and refused to let go of you until she felt like it was okay. 

Starting today, you’d try your very best to forget your mother. “Fight, huh…?” If you could burn down this house without consequence, you would. You looked over your shoulder, staring at the diary in his hand. “That’s…”  You took it from him when he offered it, staring at the cover. Just a small little red book, something you’d read on your own time. Maybe you’d find a way to come back to the person you used to be.  

“...My room.” You looked all the way behind you, staring at the open door to your old bedroom. Your hand lingered on the counter until it was too far to remain as you treaded over. It felt like your head was spinning, the closer you got.

The walls of your old room were a dark red,  your mothers favorite color which she had painted when she still carried you in her belly, so she said. It had been so long, you never ever thought you’d see this old place again. “Ha…” A nervous laugh slipped out at the sight of your old stuffed animal. “I got this… when I turned four. It helped me sleep.” A small little fortune of innocence. It wouldn’t hurt to take it with you. 

Your left hand slid underneath the pillow on your bed, disappointed when you were proven right. You didn’t say anything, feeling the sharp graze of the old, smallest kitchen knife that existed inside your home.  You winced ever so slightly at the prick against your pointer finger when you reached the edge.

“I think… I’ve seen everything I wanted to see.” 

“You want to leave, then?” 

“Mm.” 

Maybe you’d come back here on your own, maybe after Clive was long dead. However it would happen, you weren’t too sure now. “Go ahead, I just need… a moment.” Clive watched you for a moment, hesitant to leave you be. Especially here. “Are you certain?” 

You looked at him, setting your diary in your lap. “I haven’t been here in years. I just…. wish to think. And remember whatever good I can.” You feigned a smile, one believable enough for him. You couldn’t remember when you last smiled a genuine smile. It should be so easy to remember something like that for you.  “..Alright. I’ll be just outside.” He rested his hand on your shoulder before stepping out.

Once you heard the front door squeak open and shut, you took hold of the knife from underneath your old pillow and pulled it out. It looked clean, you didn’t remember it looking like that. 

You set it down beside you first, flipping open your diary. “Hm..” You flipped to the last page, seeing nothing very surprising. The words you wrote before spoke not of yourself, but of your mother. You never realized how selfless you had been, and for so long too. “Mother..” You muttered, still finding the courage to call out for her. 

You set the open diary down, watching as gravity forced it to shut on its own. You took the knife back into your hand and stood up, leaving your bedroom door open when you stepped out. Your shoes were quiet on the hard ground as they dragged towards the washroom.

You slipped them off the moment you stepped inside, staring at the warm socks on your feet. You tossed the knife onto the floor, far enough away. You undid the button on your cloak that kept it from flying off of you, should the wind outside pick up and blow harshly at your body.  The warm sweater on your torso was shed as well, tugging down the sleeve of your thin, long-sleeved shirt. The cut on your forearm still remained, much more healed than when you put it there. 

You treaded over towards the knife and picked it back up, turning around and taking yourself over towards the door. 

A soft grip on the door handle, the creak of it being pulled shut. 

…Another one closes. 

i hope you liked it! <3 it'll be a while until i go back to my oneshots, so enjoy this for a while!! <3

[mintjeru]

✅ dragon (type) ✅ association with light ✅ has an impossible-to-dodge ult attack which draws upon the power of the heavens yeah i think we're cooked joshua

open for better quality | no reposts

[ringnis]

Annnnnnd a Babygirl in sunlight for me.

[ringnis]

Hey bitches, the internet is back up.

Guess I gotta fight to the Timekeeper today.

You know what that means…

lol, I’m kidding, I’m not actually sure if I have to start at the beginning or not, I might have a closer save. Not sure though, so…

Time for Clive to swing his dick around.

[8km-2]

[evo-moment-37]

「artist」 oshibainoticket 「characters」 clive rosfield, jill warrick and rikku 「from」 final fantasy and tekken

[invictus16]

Byron loves to tease his nephew. You make a mistake at the Briar's Kiss. Chapter 22 of The Dragon of Rosaria is up. Said teasing can be read below :).

Clive Rosfield x reader

--------------------

Desert

“See, I told you they would come.” You say, as Clive, Torgal, and Byron approach.

“...You've been here the whole time?” Clive asks, crossing his arms as they arrive at the small rectangular wooden table. You're drinking tea with Ruzena at the Briar’s Kiss forge. You ignore his question, looking at the man in front of you, not having moved an inch.

“Give me the antidote, L'ubor.” Antidote? Clive's face changes. You're sweating, face contorted in-

“Not yet. You're my leverage.” Clive is visibly confused.

“L'ubor?”

“That's my name.” He smiles, but there's something behind it that makes Clive uneasy. He and Byron came here to get the gate open to Drake's Fang. And now they were roped into something deeper.

“What did you do to her?” Clive meant to stay calm, but he involuntarily bares his teeth.

“Paralyzer. I'm sure we can come to a mutual understanding, but if not, you'll have to carry her home.” Clive growls, pushing L’ubor aside to face you. He gets on one knee, hand over your clenched fist.

“Are you okay? Will you be able to hold on?”

“I'll have to.” You say between gritted teeth. “Don't worry. He won't kill me, and I'll still be sitting here when you return.”

“I shan't be long.” He promises, standing up. “What do you want us to do?”

…

“You look troubled, my boy. Will your girlfriend not endure?”

“..She will. Somehow she always does.”

“I'm happy that you are surrounded by strong women. Let me know when you tie the knot, I'd love to sponsor your wedding.” Byron lets out a billowing laugh, and Clive feels the heat on his cheeks.

“It's not like that! Please uncle, we have other priorities-”

“Life is too short to let love pass by if you encounter it, my dear nephew.” Clive was almost happy he could fight more Waloeders to retrieve the crystal shards for L'ubor. His uncle was having a bit too much fun at his behest.

…

L’ubor was quick to arrive on the scene, the moment the last of the Waloeders were defeated. With you in tow. He had a satisfactory smile on his face. “The people of Dalimil will be very happy with these. And with the Waloeders gone, your own issue will be solved too.” You step away from him to join up with Clive and Byron. You seem to be moving fine, Clive notes. “In the future, you can reach out to me again. I think we have a fruitful future ahead.” You eye the warm sun, stretching your aching muscles. 

---

“I'm afraid I must travel onwards to Kanver. I'm proud of you. I have been an utter coward since Phoenix Gate, but I'm happy you've been following your father's footsteps.” Byron says as you arrive at the exit of the limestone mines. Drake's Fang is in sight. “It's been a pleasure joining you, if only for a little while. And remember what I said, my dear nephew.” He winks at Clive, who awkwardly scrapes his throat.

“Good luck on your journey, uncle.”

“Take care of him, would you girl? I'm very fond of him.”

“I'll do my best.” You reply, mouth dry. You hadn't shown your best to him. The two of them hug before parting ways.

[odetomymind]

Chapter 14 has arrived!

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: Final Fantasy XVI Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clive Rosfield/Reader Characters: Clive Rosfield, Gav (Final Fantasy XVI), Jill Warrick, Tarja (Final Fantasy XVI) Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Pining Summary:

When you first moved in at the Hideaway, your sole priority was to help bearers in the most meaningful way possible. What you hadn’t expected, however, was to fall for their leader.

(Updated every one to two weeks)

(Tags will be added as the story progresses)