Impulse was a dangerous thing. It was the reason half his kills had been chosen in the first place; pathetic monsters succumbing to their own worst instincts without a second thought. They deserved to suffer as much as he delighted in their suffering.
Maybe it was vanity, but he liked to think he was a better class of monster. There was always a plan, and you kept to the plan- and you kept another plan at the ready, just in case.
Sure enough, it was impulse that brought him here. For a moment, he thought he was really going to do it- hold fast to that miserable chain, suspended so far above the ground, as they made their desperate exit. He’d taken what he’d thought of as his last look at her, silhouetted in Light and blood as she held her own, trembling with the sheer amount of will it took. He’d never seen her like that. Not in the mild greyness of their dockside chats, nor in firelit moments well away from prying eyes.
One last look, and then he would be off with the others. But impulse- that need to change something in the moment, without a care for contingency or consequence- was most dangerous for how out of nowhere it came. Like striking up a conversation on chilly mornings before the village woke. Like getting close to someone, on the sheer cliff faces of the Fjord. He always maintained it brought nothing but trouble- except when it brought him to her.
As he let go of the chain, felt himself buffeted by the priest’s bewildered attempt to save him... he thought nothing of his plans. There were none, except to be there with her- hold her, as their attackers bore down on them in waves of blood and piercing steel. Grow quiet beside her, as her Light faded along with their pulse... im-pulse... into darkness.
@caleigh-lightbreeze @gam3rj3nn (and @blackbirdbrewery, really. <3 you all)
For some reason the preview link still keeps saying Chapter 90 despite having already edited the correction haha. Anyway, pls enjoy and share your thoughts! I’m glad we’re finally getting some background information finally. It’s sorely needed!
“I do, though I don’t believe gods get them. And if gods do have them, I must have terrible luck finding them.” Roderich said, pushing up his glasses to hide his face.
~
“No.” Vash stated, rolling his eyes. “Only children believe in soulmates.” He looked away from the anon, his face softening slightly with sadness before his mask of neutrality snapped back into place.
If anyone has plot updating questions, such as questions to tom and Tord about them kissing, or stuff that could move things along, it would be greatly appreciated. 😊 -Mod DJ
Shakes the ground in agony, the Lord of Lies
Once for every drop of venom in his eyes
Anger festers in his heart and loud he cries
Lord of Lies by Tyr
No answers to be had anywhere he looked. The following days since his return to Eorzea had been quiet, catching up with friends, companions, and his lover on all that he had missed. Too much, as it seemed. The time between realms was greater than he had originally thought. Yet with his return to Eorzea came a quiet. Peacefulness he hadn’t known in all his years alive. It was oddly unsettling. Old paranoia's told him something was going to go wrong soon enough.
And he did so hate it when he was right about such things.
Meditations were interrupted with the subconscious feeling of dread lingering over head. Daily outings spent constantly on the lookout for the first sign of trouble to rear it’s ugly head. Yet it never came, and it only made his paranoia worse. It came to the point where he was out at all hours of the day hunting for trouble instead of waiting for it to come to him.
The Shroud was a vast wilderness and the Spire rather secluded from major roads and settlements. Not so far off the beaten path but enough that typically only the occasional poachers came wandering on nearby. Especially at night where they think themselves safe in the cover of darkness. This wasn’t so unusual until the night he stumbled upon something strange. Poachers far more well armed than they had any right to be. Magitek weapons and armor made of Garlean Fiber. Cargo containing everything one would need to build a gate to the void, and far strange, vials of some strange chemical.
With the poachers dispatched and corpses burned to little but ashes, he took a crate and sat it near the campfire the miscreants had going, prying it open to inspect the contents in further detail. His brain wracked with theories as to why these men were out here doing the Empire’s bidding. Where were they going? Who gave them their orders and equipment? Why? What was this chemical?
“Better to burn it all.” Lavada mutters to himself, stowing away a single vial out of three in the crate for further inspection later. He’d present it to the Nevermorn for study. He rose to take what was left of the small crate to the other things for burning only to be blind-sided by an unseen and unheard foe.
Such strength! Such ferocity! The bare-fisted blow sent him flying through brush and timber. The crash of trees colliding about him as he skid through the dirt only added to the ringing in his ears. Thankfully, he wasn’t as fragile as most mortals tended to be. He was, however, about just as flammable if he wasn’t expecting the fire and it came as a shock to feel such a familiarly violent flame burning through the trunk of the tree that had him pinned underneath. The air ignited around him in a desperate attempt to break free, shattering wood, sending splinters this way and that. It left him a bloody and battered mess but one that was standing to face down his assailant.
“Lost one, you should have returned.” Said a mangled growl of his fiery-eyed opponent. The man, if it could even be called such anymore, was of a Roegadyn’s stature. Eyes and fist lit ablaze, dripping with some ichorous substance. Whether the man behind the beast was still alive or just a shell for it’s host Lavada could not quite be sure.
“I haven’t been smacked like that in a very long time. Pray, do not leave me wanting, creature of Wrath.” There wasn’t a lack of creatures who could give him a run for his money in Eorzea but so few and far between they were that it was something of a rush to have been struck so. With a wild grind he drew his blade and lunged at his enemy. No deceits, no trickery, no conjured images to addle the mind. They would not work against his possessed target. Speed and careful strikes would prevail this night.
And prevail he would. A hard fought victory that left the surrounding area tattered, torn, burning, pock-marked with craters where ungodly strength sent either of them plummeting into the earth. For a while, the Hyur sat there doubled over in pain. Agonizing over truths made plain to him in these last few moments. With nothing left to examine of his assailant, the body having crumbled to ash upon it’s defeat, Lavada shambled to his feet to drag his injured body back to the Spire. Wounds need licked, bones need mended.
The Hunt had just begun in earnest.
