Who the hell allows me to think? Also, meant to draw something for Day Six: Fae and will do so later today since I’m not really doing Band. Adrien as a Scholar is just so fitting...
Anyway, have today’s angst... I mean, AU.
Series: Final Fantasy XIV
Rating: M
Genre: Angst
Pairing(s): N/A
Summary: When Cid flees from Garlemald for Eorzea, he decides to take one more with him.
Warning: Implied torture, experimentation, and body horror. Also, not beta-ed.
It would not happen - could not happen again.
Or at least, he would not be the cause of it.
Another incident, another tragedy, might as well have been bloody near another Calamity the likes of Era’s gone. Cid would have no part nor would Biggs or Wedge; and just to make sure to deter Garlemald from any more foolish projects in pursuit of controlling the Red Moon, there was one more piece that had to be taken.
It was a secret he learned when Gaius took him in, one quite fascinating but mayhap frightful. A great Allagan relic somewhere in Eorzea capable of controlling Dalamud should all the requirements be met. This relic was said to be located in Eorzea amidst the peaking mountains where Garlean forces had yet properly gone again. Ever since the failed Battle of Silvertear Skies, only the occasional odd ground troop would be sent to recon in search of this object only to return empty-handed. Records suggested a tower of some such, but there had been naught to find. Still, the only thing that proved those texts true had been a small miqo’te tribe on Corvos.
The Eye of Allagan and the royal blood that would awaken and control those Allagan relics again, they were somehow connected. A young Seeker boy, he recalled seeing him some odd years ago with one green eye and the other of the most shocking red, had been delivered to the legion.
A young boy that was only a means to an end as far as many were concerned, clapped in chains, and left to the researchers while Cid had begun toiling away at Project Meteor.
He stopped before the cell door, the bars the only way to peer inside, and paused. What would that miqo’te be like… after so long?
Grimacing, he opened the door.
From the dark corner, a single looming red eye peered his way with the owner unmoving besides his head. Cid remembered a boy once young, hale and whole, but this was a shadow of a man, gaunt and pale without sun, bony wrists bound by chains, and exposed skin littered by purposeful incisions and a few odd scars from old beatings. Red hair slick and long, furred ears and tail matted from the lack of care, he was unable to die but had long ceased living… and Cid could’ve sworn that his other eye had been green before and not covered by a bandage. Taking a step forward, the miqo’te did not move, his red eye just staring without a word and waiting.
“... Can you stand?” Cid asked.
There was the faintest twitch in those red brows, but no answer. Instead, he watched the younger man force his legs to bend and pulled the chains along the ground to push himself up. How he could stand, it put Cid at a loss, but once the other man was up and steady enough, Cid was removing the chains.
“Follow me,” he said, the orders curt, but it might get the other to shamble along after him without question. And indeed, it did, but not that he liked it. As long as it worked and got them out, it was enough for now. Once they reached Eorzea, Cid would find out just who this miqo’te was and see about getting him back to being even half-alive.
