ruffle ruffle ruffle
many children were born under the star of metia, but as that blazing 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚝 in the sky sung it's praises for the birth of the phoenix, and as joshua had taken his first breath & cried a sound more like a bird than a babe, the whole of rosaria had celebrated in the dead of night. this was no ordinary child greeting the world under metia's vibrant red, but the first flicker of a flame that none was more excited to greet, than it's 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗 and older brother: clive.
though in the following years, a sickly child trapped to his bedchambers more days than not, his brother & first shield came to him as a 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 of respite. oft times clive would spirit joshua away from his rooms and take him to the gardens, and on his better days, to the chocobo stables to visit ambrosia & dandelion.
their youths were better for it and were filled with memories like these, stretching across greener pastures & coated in rose colored glass. the world was 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚛 then, but in moments like these? when clive burrowed his fingers into joshua's unruly locks? they are brought back to those simpler times; even if only for a brief moment.
not so much as disturbed, nor moving an inch under his brother's affections, the phoenix speaks: " i was beginning to think you'd never be ready to depart, " a lilt of teasing bleeding into his voice, he is echoed by a 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛, softer one as the nostalgia brought on by clive ruffling his hair, begins to fade from purview.
@rosfielde
