#phoebe astrum

[laqualassiel]

[a-world-in-grey]

@secret-engima here’s a thought-

When is the first time Regis or Noctis kills someone?

Growing up, Regis/Noctis know it’s something they might have to do - assassins are a concern after all - but that’s not the same thing as actually taking a life.

What about the rest of the Chocobros?

Like, they grew up in Insomnia, the most protected place in Lucis. Regis and Noctis grew up in the Citadel, which has even more security, so it’s entirely possible that none of them (minus bby Crownsguard Cor because Mors Is Mors) killed before their respective roadtrips.

Add the fact that by Noctis’ Roadtrip pretty much none of the Niflheim troops are human, you could argue none of the Chocobros 2.0 actually kill anyone human. (Except Prompto, who sees Besithia turn into a daemon and KNOWS it’s Besithia.) Oh wait, they do kill Ravus so he might be the first/only person they kill and wow that realization probably hits them like a train once they’ve got the time to actually think about it. Because beasts, daemons, and MTs are... not the same. And they KNEW Ravus.

As for the Chocobros 1.0 - imagine the first time Regis or Clarus or Weskham killing another person is on their Roadtrip. Maybe Cid too, but he’s so much older that idk?

And like, that reaction has the potential to be really angsty, but THEN-

Cor tries to console them. Because he HAS killed before, and he remembers what it felt like that first time and it SUCKS. But this is Cor. Who is awkward and fifteen and Not Good at all with this Emotional Stuff.

Imagine the trainwreck.

And I was thinking about all of this because I had the thought - when the Chocobros 1.0 break down in Hammerhead, they meet Koios, Ardyn, and Phoebe (not Milon, not yet). And maybe the others don’t notice, but Cor does, because he’s the only actual soldier in the group and knows a fellow killer when he sees one.

So Cor is wary of these three Galahdians, a wariness that turns downright paranoid after Ardyn sings that Galadhian Traveler’s Song (‘bow to no king’, indeed).

Maybe Regis or Weskham or Cid scolds Cor for the borderline rudeness, or maybe they try to apologize for Cor’s behavior, and Phoebe just - laughs. A surprised snort and a wave of her hand as she tells them not to apologize, the kid’s got good instincts and listens to them.

The others frown, but Cor ironically stops bristling like a cornered Coeurl at Phoebe’s affirmation. Sure, he’s still wary but it’s the wariness of a younger predator in the space of an older predator completely uninterested by his presence. “So you are dangerous.” Cor says.

Phoebe smirks, sharp and wry. “Very.”

Clarus looks almost insulted. Weskham has a thoughtful look on his face as he studies Phoebe. “We aren’t defenseless civilians.” Regis points out. Not saying that he and Clarus have been trained to fight since they could hold a blade - people outside the nobility tend to react poorly to that part of the Lucis Caelums’ warrior heritage.

“You haven’t killed. Deliberately,” Phoebe adds when Clarus opens his mouth. “Accident is one thing. Self-defense is one thing. Knowing you have the ability to take someone’s life is one thing. Accepting that as a valid course of action-” Phoebe shakes her head, “that changes you.”

“Were you a Crownsguard?” Weskham asks curiously.

“I was ten when I first killed someone.” Phoebe replies dryly. “Afterwards, I decided that anyone else who went after my Clan would die too.”

Regis stares, horrified. “You killed a man when you were ten?”

“How?” Cor asks, but he isn’t disturbed - no he’s curious.

“He tried to kill my little brother.” Phoebe says. “He’d disarmed me, so I ripped his throat out with my teeth.”

Her sharp grin is suddenly much less reassuring.

[a-world-in-grey]

Another song for @secret-engima

(Nox-verse this time, with either Nox or Ardyn singing this and it getting caught on video. IMAGINE THE S O B B I NG.)

This is also another song that Clan Astrum sings. This one wasn’t created by Ardyn though - Phoebe wrote this one, even if she can’t sing it without a melody to match the notes of.

[a-world-in-grey]

SoHL snippet

(A little snippet for y’all while I’m on vacation. Hope y’all are staying safe this holiday season, and have a happy New Year!)

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Cid huffs. “Ya’d think Ah hadn’t been doin’ this fer near thirty years, the way he was goin’ on.”

Of course he did. Phoebe pinches the bridge of her nose. Astrals, why does she even keep that idiot as a customer? Oh wait, because for all that the man’s an idiot, he does pay his dues. Which aren’t pocket change - he’s hard on his cars. “I’ll talk to him.”

She’ll have to make it clear that his options are to let Cid fix his car or wait until Phoebe’s found those tags, and that could take days.

“The Pyre’s his problem anyway?” Cid grumps. “Never had anyone fuss about my ‘qualifications’ before.”

Phoebe groans. Oh if only that were the issue. “You don’t have a pair of tits to stare at.”

Cid pauses for a full second, as if double checking the words that just came out of her mouth, before glaring in the direction of the diner. “Is that why ya wear them turtlenecks?”

Wait, what-?

She can’t stop herself from snorting, or the fond affection pulling at her lips. But the way Cid looks fully prepared to introduce his wrench to that idiot’s head reminds Phoebe so much of her Uncle Cid it’s painful.

Alas, Phoebe’ll have to cut short Cid’s vengeance on her behalf. Besides, if anyone is smacking that idiot with a wrench Phoebe’s calling dibs.

“No,” Phoebe says dryly. “I’ve been killing daemons and beasts for thirty years. Most folk don’t like seeing the scars from that.”

Not that she blames them. Phoebe’s scars aren’t for the faint of heart.

Cid’s glare softens to a frown. “Folk are morons.”

But she appreciates the sentiment all the same.

Phoebe smiles. “You’re not wrong.”

[a-world-in-grey]

Nani here - does Sola get pulled into Dissidia?

Oooo, Dissidia AU!

Okay, bear in mind that the only bits I know of Dissidia are what @secret-engima has rambled about, but based off that-

-Sola doesn’t get called to Dissidia. No, during Sola’s life it’s Noctis and Ardyn who are called as Champions.

-No, instead it’s Phoebe who finds herself tripping into the middle of a dusty, dry red desert that’s honestly nothing like Leide. Finds herself sidestepping the decapitating strike from a silver haired man with cat-slit green eyes and a blade longer than the swordsman is tall. Finds herself following the man - Sephiroth, he calls himself - to the glowing red tower in the distance, the only spark of magic in a world on it’s last breath.

-Phoebe would very much like to know what the actual Pyre is going on, and she’s more than a bit insulted that she’s been lumped in with a bunch of nutjobs and murderers. Sure, Snow is less villainous and more... jaded and broken, but after him the next decent is Sephiroth, and he gives off an air far too similar to Sola’s memories of Ardyn. 

-It doesn’t help that the other Champions have been summoned in their various finery, while Phoebe is in her battered Hunter leathers. And while Phoebe is fairly certain she’s nowhere near the oldest, she certainly looks it, pushing fifty as she is. Though Phoebe does admit, side-eyeing some of her fellow Champions, at least she isn’t under-dressed.

-Then Phoebe learns of Materia and her Champions, of Order and Harmony, and Phoebe remembers enough of Noctis’ various video game rambles to realize that she’s essentially on the Villains’ side. 

-And she’s pretty sure she knows why. Which, okay, fair, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it.

-Now, to find out which poor sod got dragged into this mess as Materia’s Champion.

-Regis is not happy when he finds himself in a dusty desert that is most certainly not his office. He’s even less happy when he hears about why he’s no longer in the Citadel, and he has no compunctions making it clear to Materia his exact feelings on the matter. He has a kingdom to run, and a newly wedded wife and premature, newborn daughter to get back to!

-It’s his worry for Sola - born too early, born too small and monitored around the clock because the doctors don’t know if his little Sun will survive - that brings Regis’ fatherly instincts to the fore and by the time Materia’s Champions head out to find and battle Spiritus’, Regis is fussing over the half of Materia’s Champions who are eighteen and younger. The eighteen years olds - Firion and Terra - try to protest the treatment, but look, Cor is eighteen so there’s little they can do to stop Regis from slotting them into the ‘must protect’ category.

-Regis honestly has no clue who his counterpart in Spiritus’ Champions is supposed to be. He just... doesn’t have an archenemy like the rest of Materia’s Champions, certainly not like the WoL or Cloud. Someone from Niflheim, perhaps?

-It’s not.

-They run into some of Spiritus’ Champions, and Regis is fending off the Champion aiming for young Onion Knight - and trying not to look at how little she’s wearing, but it’s rather difficult when she’s attacking so insistently - when there’s a low, inhuman snarl and a glaive nearly spears the the woman from behind. The shattering of chimes, golden shards of magic and the woman has to dodge the fire and lightning aiming to utterly obliterate her.

-The battle screeches to a halt. Spiritus’ Champions stare at the redhead in battered leathers, their supposed teammate as she snarls at the scantily dressed woman. Materia’s Champions stare for an altogether reason, Regis included, because-

-“Phoebe?” He sputters.

-“Not now Regis.” Phoebe tells him, gaze not leaving her target as she spins her glaive and stalks forward with the lethal grace of a Coeurl. Her Hunter’s uniform disappears in a burst of golden shards, replaced by gilded black leather armor. “I have a would-be childslayer to deal with.”

-Phoebe’s target flees, Phoebe in hot pursuit. And Regis wonders when everything stopped making sense.

-Lightning glances at Regis’ shocked expression. “Not who you were expecting, I take it?” And all Regis can do is shake his head.

-No. Not at all. Not the magic, the oh so familiar pattern of lines tracing Phoebe’s face, a pattern altogether different than Regis remembers seeing on her, and the dark lines dripping from blackened eyes glowing red with the force of her fury.

-But he knows Phoebe. Perhaps not as well as he’d once thought, but regardless of her secrets the woman herself has not changed. Her protective fury is proof enough.

-So when Phoebe tracks them down, unarmed and in her Hunter leathers once more, eyes and face as Regis remembered from their first meeting, Regis waves for the others to stand down.

-“I assume she’s been taken care of?” Regis says after a moment.

-Phoebe’s satisfied smirk is answer enough. But she sobers only a moment later, shifting from foot to foot as she looks away. “I... guess you’d like an explanation.”

-“Not if you don’t want to give one.” Regis refutes immediately. He’s had the time to think about it, to stamp down on the shock and think rationally. Revelations aside, Regis has never had any reason to distrust Phoebe. Not when the woman has done so much for Regis, including facing down Gilgamesh to rescue Cor from the Immortal Shield.

-“Well, I’d like one.” Lightning interjects, crossing her arms and staring at Phoebe with narrowed eyes. The rest of his fellow Champions look no less suspicious. “Who are you?”

-Phoebe hums, and Regis would almost say the Elder looks amused. “I’m Phoebe, Chief of Clan Astrum and Regis’ kin.”

-“And the... incident, earlier?” Y’shtola asks. “Not that we aren’t grateful.” She hurriedly adds. “But it is... odd, for a Champion of Spiritus.”

-Oh, Regis knows the answer to this one. “Phoebe is Galahdian.” He tells them, echoing the words from years back. “Galahdians don’t tolerate childslayers. Or would-be ones.”

- Phoebe’s grin is less a smile and more a baring of teeth. “We execute them.”

-Which is pretty much the same thing Phoebe and Koios told Regis when he asked about it.

-Lightning looks like she has a headache. “So why are you Spiritus’ Champion?”

-“I’m considered Regis’ rival.” Phoebe shrugs. “If you want to be technical about it.”

-“Because you’re a candidate for the throne?” Y’shtola asks.

-“Ah, no. Not that.” Phoebe grimaces. “But the gods would rather Regis try to kill me, given I’m the Accursed.”

-Regis chokes. “You’re what?”

[a-world-in-grey]

SoHL snippet - Kin and Clan

@secret-engima

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Ardyn tenses. “You’re a Lucis Caelum.”

She sighs. “No.”

“That was not Oracle magic.” Ardyn says, challenge in his eyes and voice, but his magic curls with the expectation of pain.

Phoebe doesn’t turn from where she works, maintaining an air of calm indifference. No matter how much she wants to Rage on her Uncle’s behalf against those who conditioned such a response. “I have Bahamut’s Blessing of the Warrior,” she agrees, “I am Somnus’ Kin. I am not Lucis Caelum. Clan is Choice.”

Ardyn’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand.”

She’s not surprised - even in modern Galahdian the terms for Kin and Clan and the bonds of blood and choice are different than their more common uses. Not something an Outsider would learn unless he actually lived in Galahd long enough to pick up fluency. And Ardyn’s grasp of Old Galahdian is far from fluent.

“Lucis Caelums are family of blood,” Phoebe says, choosing the simplest words even though they lack the right meaning, “They are Kin, and Kin is Blood. I cannot change that.” No time like the present for a culture lesson and a few more vocab - even if Ardyn won’t find much everyday use for it.

Sure enough, Ardyn digs out the notebook he’d started using once he could grip a pen, and Phoebe writes down the new words, pausing so Ardyn can add his own notes in Old Lucian.

“Clan is family of Choice,” Phoebe continues once Ardyn finishes, “For many it is also family of blood - distant, but blood. But you choose your Clan, and one can leave the Clan if they want to. If they need to.”

Would discussing Galahdian marriage customs be too hard on Ardyn’s vocabulary?

“Need?” Ardyn asks, sharp in a way that he suspects this is important and won’t let Phoebe deflect. Or if she does, he’ll wait to ask someone else, quietly suspicious the entire time.

This is going to be emotionally taxing, isn’t it?

You knew it would. You’re Chief, Ardyn is your responsibility.

“Clan is family. But family can be bad. Not always bad people, but not good for you. So you leave. They are still Kin, but you will not be Clan.”

“You left Lucis Caelum.” Ardyn surmises.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Because Somnus massacred his own people, killed his own Kin, and never paid for it. Because Somnus knew his blood would pay for his crimes and never told his children. Because Papa knew Noctis would die and gave up. Because Mors and Papa abandoned our people.

Phoebe loves her father. He will always be Papa. But she cannot be Clan to a Chief who won’t fight to protect what is his.

“Somnus killed you.” Phoebe says, because of everything it’s the that hurts the least. “He is Kinslayer - he killed Kin and Clan - but he did not pay for it. That isn’t right. He should have left. But he didn’t. He was Chief.” Old Galahdian doesn’t have a word for ‘king,’ even in modern Galahdian ‘king’ is a King’s Speech loanword.

Ardyn pauses. “Left?”

Phoebe is not ready to explain Exile. Not today. “Kinslayers do not stay in the Clan. They leave. Always.” How to distract- “Ramuh walked in Galahd, before he helped Bahamut kill Ifrit. After, he left us, because he was Kinslayer.”

“But Ifrit wanted to kill people.” Ardyn protests, his hand waving to mean ‘all of humanity.’ “Ramuh protected you.”

“Ifrit wanted to destroy humanity.” Phoebe agrees, and Ardyn scribbles down the word. “And Ramuh protected us. But he is still Kinslayer. Kinslayers must leave the Clan. Even for what is right.” She gives him a sad smile. “It was brave. It was needed. And we honor it, when others must do the same.”

“But Somnus killed you, and it wasn’t right.” Phoebe ignores the way Ardyn’s hand tightens on his pen. Coming to terms with Somnus’ betrayal is something Ardyn will need time for. “Mors and Regis are not Somnus. They do not pay for what Somnus did. But they honor a Kinslayer. So they are Kin, but they are not Clan.”

Silence falls. Phoebe works bobbins through her warp, only half paying attention to the work at her fingers. The other half is on the sense of Ardyn’s magic, razor sharp but so fragile a single touch might shatter him into a thousand shards. Skittering away from her own gently curling magic like an abandoned Coeurl cub.

It hurts to see Ardyn like this. Because Phoebe can see how Niflheim took gentle but tired man and broke him, twisted him into the monster from her memories.

Not this time.

[a-world-in-grey]

@secret-engima (I figure you’ll appreciate all the symbolisms coming into play.)

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I can’t wait for the various Galahdians to meet Phoebe. The spit-takes. The angst.

Because the first thing anyone ever sees is her age - near fifty years old due to the illusion she wraps around herself to look her physical age - and the second thing they see are her braids. All five of them. Which are some of the most elaborate braids most Galahdians have ever seen.

The Clan/Chief braid (because Phoebe has enough braids without adding another one just for her status as Chief), which does not have the usual beads in Clan/personal colors. No, Phoebe’s clan braid has a whopping fourteen beads (fifteen including the gold and black bead that joins her braids). All of her beads are dual-colored, in the form of a stone with a thin painted stripe in the center. (It takes a long time - far longer than it should - for the native Galahdians to realize that Phoebe is wearing a bead for each of the Clans. They... aren’t sure how to react to that.)

Phoebe’s marriage braid at least is straight forward, if consisting of more precious and semi-precious stone beads. It’s a bit intimidating, honestly, because Phoebe’s wearing enough valuable stones in her hair that she'd be comfortably wealthy if she sold them all. (She’s wearing so many beads that they click with the slightest movement. There’s a contest to see who can count them all without her noticing. Highest number so far is thirty-seven.)

The Mourning Braid... well. They aren’t surprised. Phoebe is of age with most Elders, yet hasn’t passed on the mantle of Chief. And there are five mourning beads in her braid, little wooden beads painted a dull brown, and a brown cord woven through the whole thing. It hints at the unimaginable grief that lingers in Phoebe and Koios’s eyes, in the heavy silence that weighs on their shoulders and how they watch the sunrise as though they’ve never seen it before-

But the worst, the worst are the Hero Braids. Because most Galahdians never earn one, and this Elder-Chief has six. Oh, she only wears two actual braids, but there are three sections on each, six different events that warranted such acknowledgement. And in all but one she wears a red bead, in all but one she has earned her recognition in war. And in one of those, next to the red bead is a brown and gold one, a bead that only ever has one meaning, and it makes their hearts ache. 

Grief for Kin and Clan. The entire section is no better, for Phoebe’s Loyalty and her Undaunted determination to Protect her loyalties brought her to War. And she Lost. Phoebe survived - Koios survived with her - but Phoebe Lost.

And when they finally see the many scars upon her skin? The death-blow over her heart, mirrored on her back from someone running her through with a sword? The long gash over her spine that runs from hip to opposite shoulder where someone tried to cut her down? Or the scar that can only come from someone slitting her throat?

The Endurant, they call her. A recognition of her strength to shoulder such hardships... and her curse to never rest.

[a-world-in-grey]

@secret-engima

Okay, but the first time anyone truly gets a good look at Phoebe and Koios when they’re in Galahd is gonna be great.

Because Phoebe and Koios have been Galahd’s local fae for six months before Nyx gets his near heart attack from Phoebe (though the two have been the local menaces to the Niflheim officers for over a year more). And in the dark, all anyone can see is black armor and cloaks as Phoebe and Koios move with the grace of Coeurls, all smooth predatory intent and it isn’t until they remove their hoods to show the faces of Elders that the Galahdians start believing that the two are human instead of some sort of friendly daemon or island spirit.

(Unless you’re a certain drama-inclined Tibiae of course.)

Nyx doesn’t mention how the red-haired Elder gave him a Chief’s acknowledgement. Mostly because he refuses to believe it himself. It was late, it was dark, and Nyx was probably half-hallucinating out of paranoia anyways. That’s his story and he’s sticking with it, because- He’s not a Chief. 

But then Niflheim invades, in the middle of the night on a clear sky with no moon, at low tide (no cover of Ramuh’s Storm, none of Bahamut’s Light or the Tide-Mother’s Waves). There’s only panic when the power goes out and their home descends into darkness. Fire flashes from gunfire and ordnance, adding their thunder (notthunderneverthunder) to the cacophony of screams. And then-

Sunlight shines.

Once Nyx’s eyes adjust to the sudden daylight, once he takes in the utter impossibility around him (there’s no sun in the sky, it’s still nighttime, HOW-) he sees the MTs fallen, screaming in agony as black mist seeps from the cracks in their armor where sunlight touches them.

In the center, golden light shining from cracked skin, red hair whipping around in it’s own gale as she grips an ornate Bellum-forged glaive, is the Elder. Nyx stares, because without the dark of night obscuring his vision, without the short cloak covering her upper body, Nyx can see all the details everyone had missed before.

Old Galahdian armor of banded leather. Not black, but a deep purple. So much purple. But his attention doesn’t stay on the purple for long, because it’s claimed by something far more important.

The Elder’s armor is gilded. 

Bands of gold-plate stretching across her chest like bladed wings, another band in the shape of a blade stretching down her sternum to her navel. Gold-plating on her belt, bracers, and greaves. Edging the leather bands of her skirt and pauldrons.

Nyx registers the Elder’s clansman, clad in purple and yellow leather - not a speck of gold - arrive with a battle-cry of thunder, lightning exploding from his hand even has the other wields an axe-shaped blade most common among the Ostium.

He cannot tear his eyes from the woman, the Chief, who wears more gold on her armor than any living Chief Nyx has ever met. Who wears more gold than any Chief has since Niflheim occupied Galahd.

Purple and Yellow. Loyalty and Love. Loyalty in Love, to Love. 

Loyal to Hearth and Home.

Of course, learning that there was an entire Clan living on the Mainland, a Clan with Lucis Caelum blood, surprises everyone. Because how? When? And why did none of them come home?

But for all the confusion, all the shocked hurt and anger (why didn’t their Kin come home?), there’s no doubt that this unheard of, wayward Clan is Galahdian. Not in anyone who knows how Koios and Phoebe have been fighting Niflheim for months, not in anyone who saw how Koios and Phoebe fought to protect their fellow Galahdians during the Burning. 

And they Mourn. For here is a Clan that has lost. Once over a hundred strong, now only a scant handful. With a Chief who Death cannot claim, and oh they wish to Rage over the scars upon her skin, over the deaths that have been dealt to her and escaped only through luck and the strength of her own magic.

Still, these Elders returned to Galahd to fight for them. To protect them.

“For Hearth and Home.” Nyx realizes.

“For Kin and Clan.” Koios corrects. “Galahd wouldn’t be Galahd without her people.”