𝗛𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱.... Roi had been raised in Ala Mhigo, a small village that barely saw rain. Even if it grew cold at night, it paled in comparison to honest to gods snow and ice. It took ages for him to learn to stomach the cold in Ishgard and even then, he never got used to it. Garlemald was a whole different beast.
Despite dressing far warmer than he ever had before, it still was maddeningly cold. Roi and the rest of the contingent were prepared to move on the tower. To slay Zenos and Fandaniel and put and end to the madness. But it all went terribly wrong.
First, it was a surprise attack from tempered imperials. And then it was a blizzard. If he believed in the gods, he would honestly think they wanted them to fail. In the chaos, he had gotten separated from the others. Fear was a powerful motivator. But it was also something that could easily cloud judgement. He panicked. The sound of the raging wind drowned out the sound of battle.
Would the other’s be okay without him? What if Zenos or Fandaniel attacked them? His mind swirled with awful possibilities. But in the extreme cold, even his fears started to dull. It got harder to keep his thoughts together. Over the storm, he didn’t hear the magitek reaper until it fired at him. A strike that likely would have killed someone with less power. Roi managed to use his darkness to shield himself somewhat, but it sent him flying back. In the rubble of the city, it was no shock that he hit something. His head made contact with something hard and pain flash through his skull for only a moment before the world around him switched to black.
The next time he opened his eyes, there was a stabbing pain in his head. But he felt warm. He didn’t remember anything from after he was attacked on his own. He was dimly aware that he was no longer in the elements. It wasn’t until he forced himself to sit up that the true dread began to fill him.
He was back in the tower Zenos had stolen his body in. The memory alone made him feel ill. He pulled the glove off of his right hand, and stared at his burned hand. The scarred hand still looked the same as it had since he first arrived in Ishgard. At least... it was still his body.
He forced himself to his feet, eyes scanning the room for his captor. Despite the fear, he scowls at his surroundings. He had to hide his fear.
❝ Zenos...? ❞ His voice was strained thanks to the ordeal before.
𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖...
He would not be toyed with again.
