almost home
occasionally subtle
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON
Product Placement
Peter Solarz
if i look back, i am lost
NASA
#extradirty
I'd rather be in outer space πΈ
Janaina Medeiros
DEAR READER
Keni
pixel skylines
trying on a metaphor
i don't do bad sauce passes
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@valistheanshield
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β BURNING FATE
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Canon Divergent | Multi-verse | Selective Β Β Β Clive Rosfield of Final Fantasy XVI
Established 7/11/23 Written by Wulf Minors DNI
Affiliated with: @glxciated / @lacedaether / @fire-branded / @phoenixbound
Verses: Final Fantasy XIV League of Legends Dungeons and Dragons
Rules under the Cut
@nameaprice sent : They hadn't seen each other in a long time so naturally Sivir had the biggest grin on her lips as she walked up to him. Would it be inappropriate to hug or kiss him? She questioned mentally, but followed her instincts instead and pulled him down by the collar to kiss his lips gently.
It was a relief to see her, though he wasn't sure he could put that into words. They had parted due to the sheer fact that it had been necessary, Sivir's band heading south while he was set to head east, and now, here they were, once again reunited. The moment he recognized her, his eyes lit up, giving her a warm smile the closer she got. But, he had barely gotten a hello out when she reached out to grab at his collar, pulling him down to press a kiss to his lips. One that he eagerly returned! Hands settled gently on her hips to draw her into him, giving her both the options that she had mentally debated on without knowing she had done so.
That kiss didn't last half as long as he would have liked, but it certainly wasn't a brief peck either. When he pulled back, he could still taste her on his lips, feel them pressed to his own, but he greeted her with a smile. "It's good to see you again, Sivir."
She thought her hands might tremble the entire time they were engaged, even with his guidance. Luckily, that is not the case. Despite the nervousness she feels when she first finishes unfastening his cape, she also feel a bit more confidence β a feeling that grows as they move through the various bits of armor and belts that fall to the floor piece by piece.
When the armor all lays scattered across the floor, there is nothing left to begin removing but his actual clothes. Her hands are coaxed towards his chest, fingers gripping at the strings that bind the red leather to his torso. Those nerves spike again, tremble returning to her hands and fingers, as she slowly begins to pull at the strings to first unfasten their knot and then to begin working them from the loops until the garment can finally be peeled from his body. He is still completely clothed from head to toe, as is she, but there is something different about seeing him in only the thin linen shirt that remains.
Before she could think to say anything while she waited to see if he would urge her to remove the linen tunic as well, his lips are again on her own. He kisses her with that same passion and heat as before, and Zelda cannot resist melting into him again, her fingers curling tight into the white fabric of his shirt before she pulls herself closer.Β
His hands find their way to her hips once more, and her lips part in response, tongue slowly and tentatively snaking out until it slides against his bottom lip, teasing at the flesh, at the same moment Cliveβs hands slide across her body until they land at the small of her back. She once again feels as if he has struck a match and ignited a flame beneath her skin β the heat of desire spreading like fire devours a forest until her whole body feels as if it has been engulfed in the flame.Β
With his hands pressing her closer to him, their bodies are once again flush, no gap or crevice to be found as her curves mold to him. The feeling urges a small gasp from her lips before she allows herself to be encouraged by that flame of yearning and she nips at his bottom lip in a minxish fashion β payback for the way heβd nipped, kissed, and bit at her ear and neck.
The nipping, however, is soon cut short, replaced by a moan that is muffled against his lips as his fingers dig into her ass. His hands feel so large against her petite body as he cups her through the fabric, pulling up so that she is forced onto the tips of her toes, her body now pressed even harder against his. She could feel every bit of hard sculpted muscle that makes up his body β from his chest and arms to his abdomen and legs. But that wasnβt all she was feeling. Nayru no! Pressed so firmly against him now, she could feel the bulge that swelled against her body, practically begging to be released from the confines of his leather pants. For a moment, she cannot stop her mind from lingering, wondering what she might find the moment the remainder of his attire has been removed.
His groan against her lips send a tremor coursing through her body and out towards her limbs; it was as if the sound waves were transferred and physically travelled through her body, muscles quickly constricting and relaxing in response. Wanting to hear it again, as she already so enjoyed earning such sounds from Clive, the princess gave a roll of her hips β forward into him instead of back for once β her pelvic region creating friction over the bulge of his arousal in search of getting him to repeat that sound.
Their lips peel apart, and Zelda is gasping for breath, as if she fully anticipates his lips will soon crash onto her own once more. Instead, itβs her name that he says, and her own eyes flutter open so that sapphire and kyanite can lock.
βAs do Iββ she breathes, flushed and blushing at both of their confessions. βTake me, Clive. Pleaseβ¦β
The way she molded against him was enough to set him aflame, heat coursing through his veins like a wildfire. There was not a gap between them, no space to breathe even though he wanted none, seeking to drown in her as if that were the only reasonable thing to do. The taste of her lips upon his own was intoxicating, finding he only wanted more and more and more. And luckily, it seemed she wished the same, not pulling herself from him, indulging him in that needy kiss as if it were all that they could do. Though, that wasn't the case at all, and she quickly proved it.
The roll of her hips against his own was like lightning racing through him, a shiver rolling up his spine. Without her layers, without his armor, it was something so different to feel. He could swear he could feel the warmth of her through his leathers, the soft pressure of her skin sliding against his own, unable to feel it directly. But before he could sink into the pleasure of her grinding against him so, their lips parted, his eyes watching her as she gasped for air, and found himself doing the same, only for her to admit she needed him as much as he did, her cheeks flushing red as she practically begged for him to take her. And hearing her say his name like that certainly did the trick, feeling that growing need spike within him as if he had no control.
Now, her anticipation was fulfilled, his lips crashing upon her own after she pleaded with him to take her, kissing her with such hunger. Just as she had introduced her tongue to the mix, so did he, the muscle slipping along her lips tenderly until they parted, deepening the kiss quite sharply the moment that they did. He cared little if their kisses grew messy, saliva building as their tongues collided, more focused on the feel of her body against his own, his hands squeezing her ass firmly, keeping her pushed tightly to him.
But that was not where they remained. His touch soon wandered back to the familiar swell of her hips, letting her drop back down from her toes and instead leaning down to continue the kiss, even though that did put space between them. But it was for good reason! Even she would have to agree.
His hands didn't just settle at her hips, no he began to gather the fabric of her chemise in his fingers. Bit by bit, inch by inch, her chemise rose up her legs, exposing more and more of her though he couldn't hope to see it as occupied with that kiss as he was. That certainly didn't stop him though, gathering more and more of that fabric in his hands until she could feel the cool air against her bare legs, his touch slipping underneath the chemise she wore, his palms finally touching bare flesh, settling on her waist. Slowly, his touch slid upward, the gathered fabric bunching on his wrists as he ventured along her body, palms glued to her skin as if he was memorizing the shape of her as he had never before. It wasn't as if she hadn't worn dresses that showed her figure before, but they were always regal, appropriate for a princess. This time, he was getting to paint an image in his mind of the way her body naturally was, and revel in it properly. That wandering touch continued, soon feeling the swell of her breasts against his fingers, her body nearly exposed! That was what prompted him to break the kiss, strands of their mixed saliva connecting their lips for a moment before he pulled too far away and broke them. He said nothing, but his gaze broke from hers to obviously drink in the sight of her, his hands paused at her chest as if waiting for her arms to untangle from him so he could strip her of that chemise that was in the way of his admiration of her. The moment her arms did move, the fabric was pulled over her chest, over her head and tossed aside appropriately, leaving her standing in just her undergarments, and him still dressed fully! Well, at least in a practical sense.
For a moment, he just...drank her in. His eyes hungrily devouring the sight of her nearly naked form before him, and he made no attempt to disguise or hide that hunger. It wasn't long before his hands moved though, finding her own and pulling them to his hips, letting her decide whether she would pull that linen tunic from his torso, or work to get his leathers off his legs.
Hello everyone! I'm sorry for being away recently, I've just hit a bit of a slump when it comes to writing. I'm not leaving Clive, I'm just taking a little break. I'll try to start replies again soon, but I just wanted everyone to know where I'm at. Again, I'm sorry for the delays!
Flint and steel struck against Genesis' composure, the sparks of Clive's words gradually slipping between cracks and questions that the inquisitor would have never before entertained. But somewhere inside, he felt brittle. Bent and broken, tossed into an empty pit. Because what if it was true? What if, all this time, all the blood he so zealously shed had been innocent? Somewhere in his chest, he drowned in pitch and tar.
When Genesis next exhaled, the cool air of the vineyard shivered. A seemingly errant spark had made it through, atop the kindling. All at once, it lit aflame. "Silence heretic!" He growled, lounging in blind rage. The exquisite red steel of his blade beat down against the one that defended its master. Again, and again, Genesis contested Invictus and Clive, tenacious and unyielding. And the more he raged, the faster he became. It was when he was deflected a distance away that everything would change. He bled, cuts stinging, and he gasped to fuel the demands he was putting on his body. But at this point, what did it matter? If he could not succeed here, there was no place for him anyway. He rallied for another slew of attacks his sword cutting across when it erupted in flames. Startled, and doing what any sensible person would do-- he tossed it haphazardly to the side and stumbled back and away from it. And then he stared in disbelief at what he had just done.
For a moment, it seemed as if his words had gotten through to the inquisitor. Clive could see the moment of hesitation, of doubt regarding the acts of the past. Perhaps that wasn't for the best though, as the weight of a past could be crushing, especially if you were running from it without knowing. Clive had plenty of experience in that department, and it was obvious Genesis struggled just moments before deciding to lash out rather than confront the revelation he was dealing with. It seemed his words had left a mark, more-so than a blade would have.
Invictus clashed against the man's blade again and again, sparks flying, lighting up the night around them for mere moments before dying down, only to be reignited as Genesis struck again. The man was in a near-blind rage at this point, and Clive was growing concerned he wouldn't be able to talk the man down. Genesis's swings were growing faster, and Clive was beginning to struggle with defending against them. Once or twice, he thought he'd earn a cut for his trouble, but just barely he managed to avoid it.
It wasn't long before they separated again, space between them allowing them both to breathe. Genesis seemed the worst for it, gasping for air while Clive panted, the energy of Ifrit powering him through the exhaustion of swordplay. As the man lifted his sword again, Clive did as well, only....Genesis's blade erupted into flames.
And seemingly not by the man's volition. "So, you are a Bearer." There were numerous questions in Clive's mind now. He wasn't sure how Genesis had managed to be able to avoid detection for so long, especially as an Inquisitor of the Iron Kingdom, or how he seemed unaware of his own abilities. Had the man run so far from the possibility his mind had wiped any trace of the memories of his power? Or did he only just now awaken? The man seemed at least in his late twenties, so what a late bloom if so. Too many questions, not enough time to ponder them.
With the Inquisitor disarmed, Clive lowered his blade, the tip pointed earthward but not entirely, prepared to defend himself if the man leaped at him in confused fury once again. Though, he seemed more preoccupied with the discarded blade, disbelief written across his face. "Was that your first spell?" Clive had to ask, though it likely wouldn't help the situation. The man was clearly confused by what happened, and pointing out it was him, when he held the belief that Bearers and Dominants were unnatural, well. That would be dangerous.
He wouldn't press his point on it being a natural thing, not wanting to break the poor man when he was already on the edge.
"They are doing much, and without the aid and order that the men he's organized have provided I'm certain there would be more chaos." There was no reason to add a but to that sentence. There was only so much that could be done to stave off the panicked frenzy that was bound to rear its head in a world that was now sans magic. No crystals could work. There were no longer Bearers, though still would be those who bore the scar and brand of being labeled as one.
There had been more than one murder of a Bearer reported, killed out of a misguided belief that they were somehow the cause of this. Even without their magic they still were blamed, and Joshua knew it would take years for that to fully fade. Decades, centuries even. Not until the last Branded died would those resentments fully die with them.
"Perhaps when you're feeling well enough we can think about aiding him, but we've done our part of the battle, Brother. We can give ourselves some time to rest now that Ultima is gone. We deserve it." Though even as he said that, Joshua couldn't help the slight furrow of his brow as his gaze dropped to his lap. It felt alien saying that, and a bit crass. They were Rosfields. Did they really have the right to decide that someone else needed to handle a problem that they ultimately created?
Joshua had skirted over it with his rather matter-of-fact statement, but Clive's direct question forced him to pause. It wasn't something he wanted to think about, but there was no use in denying the truth. "Dion's body hasn't been found, but I do not expect that we ever will find it." There was no way that he could have survived the fall of Origin. In truth, there was no way the two of them should have survived either. That they had was all the miracle that Joshua could have hoped for.
To act like he wanted or was owed more would have been... disrespectful.
Clive's sudden lack of appetite was apparent. Joshua didn't want to push it, but the tray couldn't stay. "Are you finished? I can take it back to the kitchen for you."
It was good to hear that Uncle Byron's work was providing some relief, yet the silent but spoke volumes. Of course there would be problems, the life people had known for centuries had been torn from them quite suddenly. There would be unrest, revolt, and violence. Some part of him had a misguided hope that the desperation of those last days before his confrontation with Ultima would have the people banding together to aid one another, but this was no storybook of his youth. No, this was reality, and just as Cid had warned him all those years, people were going to take this bitterly. A foul tasting medicine that needed to be shoved down their throats.
He simply nodded as Joshua insisted that their Uncle could handle things for now, knowing that he was far from any state to be of use to, well, anyone. Joshua was right though, they did deserve the rest, even if things weren't settled as they should be. It would be quite possible that if it came out that Clive was the one who had eliminated magic from the world, he would be strung up for his trouble. Best to lay low, especially while he had this....ailment to deal with.
His thoughts shifted as Joshua spoke of the Prince, only to grimace as his fears had been confirmed. Though, there was still some measure of hope to be had, it felt cruel to say as much. So Clive kept silent then, his gaze shifting from Joshua to look instead to that stone hand he now sported. His appetite was rather dead suddenly.
"...Yes, please." Was all he could muster in response to the offer. The broth and bread tasted bitter at this point, like ash against his tongue thinking of the losses they endured to get to this point. Thinking about how they both were nearly totaled in that number, and how he had come out damaged from it all the same. His gaze lingered on that stone hand of is, the weight of it already feeling like it could drag him to the bottom of the Bennumere.
Before Joshua could leave with the tray, Clive did speak again, his gaze turning to his brother, though the emotion in it was hard to read. Clive himself didn't know much of how he felt right then. "Did....did you say Tarja could do something for my hand?" If he remembered correctly...Joshua had said she could remove it? That might be better than the dead weight it was, the ache he could feel around his wrist growing stronger bit by bit already.
@agloryofuniicorns
O' was he so sure about it? So focused on fighting the other dominants and exercising justice over something so small and insignificant, the man had entirely lost sight of the most important detail in this entire story. Her thumb brushed against his lower lip with such gentleness that it could have been easily mistaken for affection - if it was not for the dangerous shimmer lingering in her expression as she looked at the man. She hummed quietly before speaking up again.
" Really? All you have done is pushing the Blight further into the lands. What do you think your fights against your brethren truly accomplish? " Without knowing, Clive had become her favourite puppet to control in this grand scheme against Ultima and his idiotic plan to revive his people on yet another dying planet. The thought made the corners of her mouth twitch upwards in a cruel smile, and she grazed his lip with the side of her sharp, dark painted nail. " Your kind is so predictable, Clive. Ultima truly wasn't the brightest subject of his people if he can't figure this out."
But in the end, this was positive for her, was it not? As the Blight spread across the land and consumed more and more aether as it went, her own power grew. At the very same time, there was nowhere left for her old enemy to go and thus, he sat on this planet; awaiting his duly end.
That gentle brush of her thumb against his bottom lip sent a spark down his spine, his breathing quickening just a hair while he held her gaze. His reaction to that touch would have been a good deal more...involved if it wasn't for that dangerous look in her eye, as if she were considering a way to torment him for his words. Xal'atath was a strange being, even with her straddling his lap like this, he would have mistaken that touch for kind, or even tempting.
"We knew it would get worse before it got better." His answer wasn't really much of a response to that particular barb, but it was true. They knew that things would spiral before they correct, each shattered Mothercrystal leading to a harsher world. People were dependent on the magics they provided, and without them, they would war and drain the world of its resources even faster. The Blight spread like wildfire now, as if the remaining crystals were aware of their impending doom and drained the Aether of the planet even faster.
"Isn't it every creatures instinct to survive? To find a path forward? Of course we'll be predictable." He held her gaze even despite that cruel smile she fixed him with, finding himself growing tense beneath her. "But we'll manage to find that path forward, and Ultima will fall. We will be free." Why wasn't he counting her amongst the enemies he needed to fell? Hadn't he figured out yet that she wanted the world to succumb to the Blight? Perhaps he hadn't, or perhaps he was hoping that her hints and suggestions would be for naught.
@valistheanshield gets a plotted starter
It was strange, having a piece of herself bound to the King of Darkness. She hadnβt noticed it before, but she could only surmise that it was the magic sheβd used alongside the other sages to seal Ganondorf. So, technically, not bound to Ganondorf so much as she was bound to the seal itself.Β
Which was how she knew when that seal was breaking.Β
She didnβt think she could accurately describe the feeling β an ominous sense of dread overtaking her like a dark cloud while alarm bells loudly rang out in her head. Her heart raced with an overwhelming sense of anxiety that had her leaping from the chair seated behind the desk in her study, nearly toppling it over in the process as she scrambled to dig the Ocarina of Time from the secret compartment in her desk. There was no hesitation from the princess as she then stumbled around the desk and bolted from the room, drawing the eye of more than a few guards and maids that occupied the corridor.Β
Despite running as fast as she could possibly manage (ignoring the concerned shouts from the guards and discarding her heels along the way), it still took several minutes to navigate the halls of the palace, flee through Castle Town (earning her more startled stares from the residents that either set up stalls or perused the wares), and scramble up the stone steps that lead to the Temple of Time.Β
Fingers threatened to tremble as she drew in a deep breath and raised the sacred ocarina to her lips, forcing her mind to concentrate on the notes she would need to play to complete the Song of Time and open the large stone doors that would permit her entrance to access the Sacred Realm.
Stone ground against stone as the Door of Time slid back, golden light beaming down onto the pedestal in the center of the next room. She need only step onto the Triforce at the center, surrounded by the medallions of the six other Sages, before she was surrounded by a wall of sapphire light, transported into the realm created by the Golden Goddesses, only to find the King of Evil standing before her.
The seal wasnβt breaking β it was broken. Ganondorf had escaped the Evil Realm, and she was currently face to face with the bearer of the Triforce of Power. This time, however, she didnβt have any of the other Sages by her side to help her defeat and seal him.Β
βI told you, Zelda, you were cursed. And I promised that someday, when this seal was broken, I would exterminate your descendants. I will settle for exterminating you instead.β
It wasn't as if they spent every moment together, even as close as they had become. No, they took time apart so that meeting again could be so much sweeter. While Zelda took to her study to tend to the tasks of governance, Clive was working his swordsmanship in the yard. Steel clashed against steel as another guard worked forms with him, a friendly duel that would see them both better at the end of it. Control was the most important thing to a bladesman, and learning how to swing the blade but not follow through would teach that! It certainly helped they were both fully armored, prepared for any mishaps that might occur.
However, they were interrupted as his dueling partner suddenly froze mid-swing, gaze off on something that wasn't Clive. Rather than chide the man on looking away, Clive's gaze followed, if only because he had begun to understand that very few of the guard were green enough to make such a mistake unless it was truly something that required attention.
And he was greeted to the sight of Zelda sprinting across the courtyard for his trouble.
"We'll pick this up later!" Clive was already speaking as he put his back to the guard, a few steps away before his blade was stowed across his back, where it belonged. It wasn't long before that black cape was billowing behind him, running full tilt after Zelda, though she was running as if hell itself were at her heels. Whatever possessed her, he was struggling to keep up as she rushed through Castle Town. He would have found himself lost if the stunned crowds weren't blatantly pointing the way, looking after their Princess with confusion and concern.
When he found himself before the Temple of Time, Clive bounded up the steps, reaching the doors only to find himself seeing a giant of a man standing before Zelda, and hearing the threat spoken. She had mentioned something of this before, someone who was sealed away in a separate realm for their deeds.
Ganondorf.
He didn't need anything other than that threat of extermination to step in, his blade flying from his sheathe. "Zelda!" Her name roared from his lips, just as the crackle of flame sang from his blade, the length of steel wrapped in fire as he charged forward.
He hadn't had to call on his gifts since coming to Hyrule, the land surprisingly peaceful compared to his home. Part of him was worried the Phoenix wouldn't answer his call, right when he needed it most. But it did! His next step forward had him disappearing in a flicker of flame, only to reappear between her and Ganondorf in another! With a roar, Clive didn't waste time looking for answers, explanations, or anything of the sort. That flame-wreathed blade was swinging for the giant before him.
And Clive wasn't holding back, that blade swinging for the man's neck immediately.
"The explanation has something to do with not wanting to ruin the efficacy of the medicine and adding in any additional ingredient would somehow blah blah blah." The turn his tone took at the end would make it clear that Joshua wasn't being entirely serious as he spoke. It was partly true; Jote had tried to explain it to him on a few occasions, and while Joshua had found he had never been able to fully buy into her explanation, he didn't think his attendant would actually try to purposefully poison him.
"I think it's just a punishment. But then they wonder why I dislike taking my medicines so much but they make it taste like I'm trying to gargle silt water." Sometimes it even felt much the same! Like there was something thick and gritty left stuck on his teeth afterward that no around of scrubbing could get off.
This was the first time that Joshua had heard of his brother needing to look after his own health, though. Likely the medicines were not for the same ailments that plaguing him, but it still left him looking over at Clive with a curious frown. "You'd tell me if you weren't well, right?"
No. Probably not. Joshua knew he'd keep it a secret too.
He listened to his brother with a smirk upon his lips, finding the dismissive tone almost amusing. There was an understanding between them in this, at least in some small part. While Clive had never been as sickly as his brother, he wasn't always perfectly hale either. Though, as serious as those words weren't, he could tell that Joshua knew more of medicine and the physickers art than he did. That didn't stop Clive from giving a chuckle as Joshua deemed the foul taste of medicine a punishment, likening it to gargling silt water!
Though, the mirth of the moment faded slightly as his brother frowned, only to question if Clive would admit if he weren't well. That surprised him, if only because he hadn't been quite sure where the question came from despite his own words prompting it. He hadn't thought, and still didn't, that his brother would connect Clive's need for medicine to something akin to his own.
"Of course, Joshua. Though, right now I'm hale and whole." He gave another chuckle, arms crossing along his chest as his weight shifted to one foot in a relaxed manner. The last time he had gotten medicine from Tarja, he had a nasty headcold, and refused to stay in bed no matter how his head pounded. Nothing like Joshua's illness, but still, that medicine was foul.
"Despite the medicine tasting foul, how are you feeling?" He couldn't help but to ask, curious as to his brother's wellbeing. The last few days had seemed rough on him, no matter how he might protest that he was fine.
@agloryofuniicorns
Her initial response to his questions was a low chuckle that lingered in the air and pierced through the silence reigning at this forsaken place. It echoed from the empty walls of the ruins, nearly creating the image that it had come from anywhere but the strange woman who hovered beside him. She placed her hands together, resting them in the height of her mid-section. " I'm your ally against the broken god you are fighting... for now. Ultima is looking for you and has sent many of his agents in order to lay his hands on you, " the entity explained and turned half to the side to have a better look at the abandoned ruin. " He is quite desperate to find you, you know. "
And he would not cease his hunt for his precious vessel until he would finally hold him in his hands - for that goal, he would force anyone and anything into his servitude. For Mythos, he would commit all sorts of atrocities, though judging from the state his minions had left the hideout in, even Clive should already be certain of much. Her dark eyes scanned the ground for residue aether that would reveal his presence, yet the ruin had been left untouched by him.
It should not surprise her, however, for it was located right in her domain. "I've been watching him for thousands of years in his pursuit of paradise. He's desperate and his plan has been falling apart since he had landed here. But he sees you as an easy target. "
This...creature was putting a cold sweat down his back, her otherworldly appearance making him unsure whether or not this was someone he could trust. Every move she made seemed unnatural, inhuman. Even her face seemed to miss the mark, especially when that chuckle slipped from her lips. The sound alone had Clive wetting his lips nervously, his body stiffening as if unsure what to expect, even though it seemed like that chuckle came from everywhere but her. With her hands coming together, she looked every bit like some political envoy that was here to discuss a treaty, rather than a god coming to contest the will of another. An ally, she called herself, telling him that Ultima searched for him high and low, desperately at that.
The half look at the ruin around them had Clive doing the same, his brows furrowing. Was she implying that Kupka was part of Ultima's scheme? Had he directed the man to this place, put it in his mind to wreck and ruin the hideaway that Cid had worked so hard to create? Fury burned in his chest at that, though he smothered it for now. There would be time to feed the cinders of hate that smoldered in him later, for now, she was to be the focus of his attention. His eyes slid back to her then, about to speak but she beat him to it once more.
"Thousands...?" He echoed carefully, finding himself believing the claim that she had kept eyes upon Ultima for so long. He wasn't sure what to make of her, but something akin to the God-creature? It seemed to fit better than not. "And only now, you step from the shadow to confront him?" Another question, though likely one he wouldn't get the answer to. "Just who are you? Surely not Greagor herself." The Sanbreque wouldn't dare believe that this woman was the Goddess they revered so highly. Clive was on edge, more so than before. Almost as if he was on the cusp of believing her to be on Ultima's level.
The human nodded in agreement, gathering his few scattered belongings and stuffing them into his worn leather satchel. He took one last glance at the fallen orcs, their lifeless forms a stark reminder of the peril they had narrowly escaped. With a heavy sigh, he turned to follow Clive and Torgal into the dense underbrush, the leaves and branches rustling softly as they passed.
As they trekked through the forest, Caleb couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that surrounded them, despite the lingering danger. The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. The air was heavy with the scent of earth and foliage, a heady perfume that filled his lungs with each breath. Birds chirped and flitted among the branches, their melodic songs a soothing counterpoint to the distant growls and grunts of unseen creatures.
Torgal led the way, his keen nose guiding them along a winding path that seemed to exist only in the wolf's mind. Clive followed close behind, his steps seemed sure and confident, a testament to his familiarity with navigating the wilderness, more than Calebβs capabilities at least. Caleb brought up the rear, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow, ever vigilant for any signs of pursuit.
As they walked, Caleb found himself growing curious about his unexpected companion. Clive seemed at ease in these woods, moving with a grace and purpose that spoke of a life spent in the wild. The wizard cleared his throat, breaking the companionable silence that had settled between them.
"So, Clive," he began, his voice soft and hesitant, "if you do not mind me asking, where are you from? And what brings you to this part of the world?" Caleb cringed inwardly at his own awkwardness, cursing his lack of social graces. He had never been one for small talk, preferring the company of his books and his cat to that of other people.
The silence of the westward march they shared wasn't uneasy, despite their new acquaintance, the oddly peaceful forest scenery drawing the attention. One wouldn't even suspect not long ago they had been fighting Orcs! But, it wasn't much a surprise when that silence was broken by the wizard, Clive looking over his shoulder at the call of his name. The questions posed weren't necessarily strange, considering they knew little of one another, and technically, Caleb had answered such already. A misfired teleport had landed him in the forest, and in the camp of the orcs. A spot of bad luck, that was, though as bad as that had seemed, it could have been much worse.
Perhaps Caleb considered the questioning awkward, but Clive didn't see any of that in the man's face as he spoke, nor did he consider it awkward himself. It was perfectly reasonable to ask such things of someone met in the midst of danger, and were now traveling with. It was bound to come up eventually, and Clive had no issue with answering such, even offering a bit of a smile as he did so. He wasn't one to hide who he was, and what he was up to. Some Harpers might be secretive about their actions, and at times it was warranted! But Clive didn't do secrecy well, nor would he try unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Ah, I'm from Everlund, a city north of here, though south of Silverymoon." He spoke as if not many would know Everlund, but it wasn't a hick town in the middle of nowhere! But damn near everyone along the Sword Coast knew of Silverymoon, and it was a good landmark to place things. Clive never assumed anyone knew of his hometown.
"As for why I'm here? Everyone once and awhile, I like to comb through the forest if I'm nearby. A favor to an old Harper." Well, maybe he wasn't going outright tell the man he was a Harper himself. But it would likely come up in conversation if they were to keep together through the following days while scouting out and hunting down the orcs. "For fortuitous situations, just like this." Clive spoke as if he had been in Caleb's shoes, lost in the wood, facing danger all around when someone had burst from the darkness to save him. And he had. He could still remember the days he had spent bound and gagged, taken to be traded at a slaver's market when the Harpers had met with the band of Slavers unexpectedly. That was the moment Clive had decided he would become a Harper himself, after all. Who wouldn't want to emulate their savior at the age he was then? "What about you Caleb? Where are you from? I can't say I've heard much of your accent before." Might as well make some more conversation, they were almost far enough west that Clive would be willing to make camp soon.
Cloud stood, taking the hand that was offered. He took a moment to dust his clothes and check to make sure everything was where he'd left it. He had no idea how he'd ended up on the side of the road, more holes in his memory.
"Cid? I know a Cid." Cloud looked closely at the man in front of him, "Doesn't look anything like you though..."
He looked around him. The desert was reminiscent of Corel, but there was no saucer in sight. Instead there was a town in the distance, this 'Boklad' that the man mentioned probably.
"Neither of those names ring a bell either. The only desert I know is Corel, and I know that isn't where I am."
The man took his hand and got himself to his feet, Clive watching as he dusted off his clothing. He seemed no worse for wear, despite having been laying in the sand like a lost drunkard. He was just assuming the man was lost somehow, as one of the questions he hadn't asked was 'who am I?' when he had been found. Arms crossed along his chest as the man checked his gear, though he seemed content everything should be where it was, only to give Clive a careful look as he gave his name.
"I get that a lot." He was the second of his name, after all. But something told him that wasn't quite what was meant, especially after the blond said he couldn't tell where he was by either name, and then giving a name Clive hadn't heard before. This was starting to get strange. "You remember your name?" Clive asked, watching the other carefully. It didn't seem like there was any head trauma, though he only vaguely knew the symptoms. Tarja had drilled them into the Cursebreakers in case they, or someone else they came across, was afflicted.
β βΈ» As the moment between them stretched on and became minutes upon minutes of simply being in one another's shared space, Jill soon realised that despite her earlier sentiment about them being quick, and only for fear of someone interrupting them during a very intimate moment, she really didn't want them to be quick at all. How many more moments like this would they be able to share with one another? How many more times would they be able to express all those feelings that they had harboured for the other all of these long years? It wasn't a thought she liked to dwell upon, and yet it was one she had to face all the same.
Their time together was not set in stone.
Thankfully Clive echoed her thoughts on not wanting to be quick, and the way in which those words dripped from his mouth like the sweetest of honey had her stomach twisting into the most delicious of knots. How was it that he was capable of unravelling her so with nothing more than a few simple words strung together? It was a mystery, and one she hoped to never find the answer to. β Neither do I... β
With their foreheads no longer pressed together, Jill was afforded the opportunity of looking at the newly created space between them. His hands, which were so large and powerful, now worked gently as they traced the line of her waistcoat in the middle of her abdomen. His movements were slow, purposeful, fingers deft as they popped the buttons free of their fastenings and pushed the supple leather to one side. Through the linen of her shirt she could feel the warmth of his fingers, the intensity of his gaze causing her mouth to dry, her tongue darting out and smoothing over the plump folds of her lips.
β Clive... β
His name was but a whisper, almost as if she were locked in hushed prayer.
Hearing that she didn't want to be quick was a boon he didn't know he needed. Perhaps when they were less new to their relationship, they would find the proper moments for quickness, but now? Clive wanted nothing more than to properly indulge himself in her, trace every line, every curve, every scar on her body with his eyes, his hands, his lips. He wanted to commit her to memory, savor every last second, devote his time to her. And such a thing couldn't be done with quickness. There was also the fact he wanted to do so in comfort, their last coupling haven't been upon the shores of Ash. Perhaps some would find that alluring, but the rocky shore had been anything but comfortable, with the threat of Orcs all around. Clive wanted no distractions, no interrupts, and while they weren't free of such, this was a better place by far.
With her waistcoat open, his hands gently slid beneath, his gaze drifting between watching her face, and watching his hands, his touch gentle upon her blouse beneath. A glance upward had him watching her wetting her lips with anticipation, only to call his name in a hushed whisper, fervent and wanting. The was she said it had a pleasured shiver rolling down his spine, wanting nothing more than to hear her say his name again, and again, and again.
He didn't answer that call though, instead watching his hands slip to her sides beneath her waistcoat, slowly sliding up her body. Brushing against her chest as his hands moved around until they were on her shoulders, peeling the layer of clothing off her and sliding it off of her. She'd have to move her arms to be rid of the thing entirely, but soon enough she would be sitting in just her blouse and her skirts, though there was still a number of things to remove. His cheeks reddened as he realized they had never done this before, undressing one another. He found it enjoyable though, the chance to touch her, to strip her bare at his leisure. Hopefully she would find the same in doing so with him.
Hands settled at her waist once again after that coat was pulled away, fingers gently finding their way beneath her blouse, and beginning to repeat the process, lest she stop him.
β βΈ» Though she was loathe to admit it, even just to herself, it was difficult seeing him in such a state. Even when they had been children she had always thought of Clive as being so strong and capable, mostly because that is all he had ever been. To see him as he was now, struggling to sit up, to focus his eyes on her, even breathe evenly, it distressed her in ways she couldn't put into words. Not that she would ever share these worries with him, no, whether he would voice it or not, he needed her to be strong for him and that is exactly what she was going to do. For once, she would be the pillar of strength for him for as long as he needed it.
A soft sound escaped her as the glass was almost knocked from her hand, partly because she was worried the sheets would get wet and that it wouldn't be comfortable for him to rest with them sticking to him, but also because now she could see the extent of the curse upon his hand. It wasn't completely stone, not like her own lithification, but it was certainly enough that he had lost full movement in his fingers, that the skin was pale and discoloured. Jill did her best to keep the concern from her face, though she already knew she was likely failing in that.
Instead, she focused on helping him drink. First letting him try to do it himself, and then aiding him when half of the contents of the glass ended up on his chin and his chest. β Here, let me help you. β Her voice was soft, gentle, and so full of care as her hands moved to support the weight of the glass and help guide his head towards it. She didn't want to do it all for him, as that wouldn't help his recovery at all, not to mention it would only frustrate him further if he felt he was being a burden, someone that couldn't even slake his own thirst.
After he'd taken a few mouthfuls, Jill set the glass to one side and picked up a cloth so that she could dry him off, make him more comfortable. β You are a wreck, yes... but it doesn't mean you will always be one. β In all their time together Jill had always spoken plainly with him, especially when it came to more serious matters. Lying to him and telling him that he 'wasn't so bad', or that he 'was simply tired', wouldn't do him any favours.
He needed the reality of his situation, only then could he move forward.
β Your recovery is going to be long, and it will be difficult. There will be times when you are frustrated or feel you'll never get back on your feet. You will. I know that you will, and just like everything else in this life, I will be by your side every step of the way. Lean on me, Clive... let me take care of you as you have always taken care of me. β
Her help in even drinking water made him realize that he wasn't just a wreck, he was almost helpless. Nightmares haunted him, his body was barely functional, hardly even able to sit up on his own anymore. Even this fiasco drinking water had proven he wasn't able to function, and he didn't know how to feel about it. It was far from the first time he had been injured, he had taken many a wound over the years, it wasn't even the first time he had almost died! But this was the first time his wounds had left lasting effects. His hand would likely never be the same, or could just grow worse. But that didn't make any sense, not with magic having been stripped away from everyone. His mind was a mess, let alone his body.
His eyes were dulled by the time she pulled the glass from his lips, as if those thoughts were overwhelming him, but it was her touch with the cloth to wipe the excess water from him that shook him from it. Her agreeing that he was a wreck wasn't a terrible surprise, Jill had always been rather frank with her words, but it was still enough to have his gaze shifting to her, only to relax a hair as she said he wouldn't always be one. It was good to know someone thought he could recover, when he didn't even think it was possible himself.
There was little time to speak before she went on to elaborate, telling him that the road to recovery was bound to be hard, but he would manage it. That she would stand by his side throughout his struggles, that he should lean on her for this, let her help him until he could stand on his own again, figuratively and literally.
He found himself smiling just barely at the end of her words, his gaze drifting to the edge of the bed before him. She was right. He had supported her for so many years, or at least wanted to assume he had. He had stood tall and shouldered so much, even when everyone screamed at him to share the burden. Maybe now he should let her help, lean against her as she asked.
"...Alright, Jill." He whispered gently, his gaze turning to meet hers with a slight nod, as if agreeing with her. "I couldn't manage alone, and....and I shouldn't try." He looked away, as if ashamed that he had let things get to this point. It wasn't long until he spoke again though. "Thank you...for letting me lean on you." His gaze once more returned to her, holding his eyes on hers as his good hand moved to take her own, though his grip was admittedly weak.
"...I love you, Jill."
His hot breath at her ear as he groaned sent a shiver coursing down her spine, chills gathering along her flesh. She was the one that had pulled that sound from his lips β had earned it. But the sound was so soft and fleeting, minuscule compared to the noises heβd pulled from her and the way he made her feel. If only she could do more.
His touch was like fire against her skin, though it did not burn. Without it, she felt so cold. She might have begged for him to grip her like that again, but she stopped as she noticed him working at the laces of her bodice once more, prying it free from its grommets until it hung limp from one, the corset now splayed open entirely. Cliveβs hands then found their way to the shoulder straps of the garment, and Zelda moved with him, aiding in getting the material freed from her shoulders and down her arms until the bodice, too, was tossed onto the floor.Β
Porcelain cheeks now glowed pink at the realization she was left in only her chemise, though she didnβt allow herself to focus on that as the maleβs hands returned to her hips once again, as if that was where they were meant to be stationed when not preoccupied.Β
Expecting to be tugged back against him again, a faint gasp of surprise pushes from painted lips, the color of which her cheeks now match, as she is instead turned to face him. Standing face to face now with the outlaw only deepened her blush as she peered up at him through thick lashes. She could see every ounce of desire that smoldered in his stare, a sight that made her desperately want to roll up onto the tips of her toes to kiss him. Goddesses, she wanted to press her body against his, knot her fingers in his shaggy soft black hair, and kiss him until her lungs screamed for air.
Luckily, that desire didnβt stay a wish for long. His calloused fingers grazed her flushed cheek before his palm pressed against her warmed flush, a gentle caress before Clive leaned forward to press his lips against hers. It was unlike any of the kisses theyβd shared before, but it was everything she wanted in this moment. Her now bare hands ran up his leather clad torso and chest, over the buckles and armor that covered his pecs and shoulders, until she was at last able to tangle her fingers in his hair, just as sheβd wanted.
The royal maiden poured herself into this moment, kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm and yearning as she molded her body against his, gently tugging at the strands of ebony hair.
Just as sheβd wanted, they only parted when they had no choice β the need to breathe again too strong to allow them to continue. His fiery breath ghosted over her lips as she, too, allowed her eyes to slowly flutter open, her stare glazed with lust. With his nose gingerly pressed against her own, his bare hand seemed to warm the bite at her neck, the mark still red and showing the indentions of his teeth. She could see the apology and mischief that danced together in his eyes, intermingling even as he groaned her name.Β
Say it again! Goddesses, let him say her name again and again and again.
At his request that she help him to remove his armor, her fingers slowly unwound from his now disheveled tresses. Shakily did they fall away from his hair and neck, Clive catching her right to lead it to one of the clasps that held his cloak in place. βOkayβ¦β
Nodding sheepishly, Zelda made slow and shaky work of unfastening the first clasp where her hand lingered. When the first was undone, she moved on to the next until she heard the rustle of fabric as the cloak fell to the floor in a heap.
And like that they went, Clive guiding her hands to the various buckles and clasps of his armor where nimble fingers worked to free each piece.
The taste of her lips against his own was somehow different now. Far from the first kiss they had shared, this one had a hunger to it that he couldn't help but revel in. The way neither of them parted from it until they were forced, he almost wanted to bury himself back into yet another kiss, though he knew he couldn't. Not yet. The way she looked at him could have melted steel, and he wasn't that strong. But luckily she didn't pursue another kiss, instead taking his words to heart and allowing him to guide her to the clasps of his cape.
Rustling fabric and the slight weight off his shoulders was the result of it being undone, falling to the floor with nary a care as he stood without. But still, they were not. Her hands and his drifted over the various buckles and clasps, taking as little time as possible to undo them. Spaulders were sent to the floor with a clatter, along with the rest of the armor along his arms. Belts were undone and set to fall, and luckily his weapons were still against the wall by the door, having no need to be armed as such. Soon her fingers were working the strings that kept his red leather tight to his chest, his breathing quickening as that became loose against him. His gaze remained on her as it came undone, shrugging himself out of it, left in just that white linen shirt her wore beneath, a bit more of that muscled chest exposed to her.
It was there that he found himself unable to wait for much longer, that hunger that sparked in their kiss overwhelming him again. In that moment of pause once his torso was nearly bared, his lips found hers once more, kissing her with that same hunger, that same greedy, wanting touch. Rather than his hand setting upon that bite mark he had given her again, his touch settled on her hips, a familiar place by now. Though, he wasn't going to just keep them there this time.
His lips remained occupied with hers, the kiss growing ravenous between them, his hands began to move. The warmth of her through that chemise was addicting, wanting it in his palms, against him whenever possible, though he knew this wasn't to be the end of it. Sliding from the swell of her hips, his hands pushed backward, his touch slipping towards the small of her back, pressing her against him in their greedy kiss now that his armor wasn't between them to make it uncomfortable for her.
Once she was flush against him though, his hands moved yet again, greedy as his lips were to feel more of her. His touch slid lower, slowly moving until he had her ass in his palms.
He had pawed at her chest already, drug his fingers along her thigh, and yet he squeezed at her ass greedily as if he hadn't gotten to touch her before. Fingers splayed to catch as much of her as possible in his grasp, pulling her up onto her toes to better match his height, and to press their bodies together a lot more firmly. There was little doubt that she could better feel his arousal now, the belts and armor at his hips gone so that they could press together all the more easily. Which meant she could feel the swell of his groin against her own.
The press of her body against his own had him groaning into the kiss, as if he hadn't expected it when he was the one who instigated it! It wasn't a call of her name, like she might have wanted, but the need that dripped from his lips then was nothing lesser to it. But, despite his want to kiss her until there was nothing left, the call for air once more overwhelmed him. His lips parted from hers just enough to breathe, his eyes cracking open to meet her gaze as he held her flush against him.
"Zelda.~" Her name finally graced his lips again, so laced with want, with hunger. "I need you..."
β βΈ» It pained her to see him still grieving the love he never received from his mother. While Jill had no real memories of her own mother besides some fleeting and broken images, she had convinced herself that her mother had indeed loved her, that she and her father had wrestled with the decision to hand her over into Elwin's care. It was fanciful at best, for she would never know how they had felt about it, but those fantasies she had of them, how her mother had cried and wailed when her daughter had been taken, of how her father had walked the halls of their castle and muttered to himself that he should have done something else... those were the things that stopped her from spiralling into thoughts that maybe, just maybe, they had never really loved her at all.
β I think even if you knew her thoughts you would still struggle to understand them. β Her hold upon his hand tightened briefly, an act of reassurance. Clive was an intelligent man and could understand the thinking of most people, but when it came to someone like his mother? Well, she was a battlefield all of her own. β You have such a gentle heart, so much love and care to give... and that is why you'll never be able to understand her. You don't see people as a means to an end, as something to be discarded when they no longer have a use. β
The people of Rosaria had seen through Anabella as quickly as the men under Elwin's direct command had. She had never tried to earn their love or loyalty in the way her husband had, and because she couldn't achieve what he had with what must have looked like such ease to her, she decided that she would have their fear instead. Or perhaps that is all she ever wanted of them. Their fear. Who knew, Jill certainly didn't. β The people of Rosaria... of Eastpool... they were still loyal to your father, even so long after his death. If I had to guess? She was merely tearing out whatever remained of him by killing those people. β
How she wished things were different, that she could wave her hand and change the events of his life for the better, that she could somehow convince his mother to stop this senseless violence and the murder of innocents and to open her eyes, to see the wonderful man her son had become despite everything she had put him through.
At his mention that they would no doubt cross paths with her, she leaned her head upon his shoulder, her hand shifting so that instead of his resting upon his own, her fingers were now laced with his, as though they were lovers rather than lifelong friends. It felt... so natural to hold his hand this way, to be so close to him. Not that she allowed herself to linger on those thoughts, the feeling of wanting more than what they shared between them. β We'll face her together, just as we have faced everything else. I'll be by your side as you show her that despite her cruelty and emotional neglect... you still grew into being the kindest, gentlest, most giving and loyal man I have ever known. β
His gaze returned to her as she said that even if he knew his mother's mind, he wouldn't understand it, that squeeze to his hand reassuring in its pressure. The praise she laid upon him in trying to explain why he could never understand his mother's actions was unexpected, and he could feel his cheeks heating in just the slightest way. It wasn't things he hadn't heard before, people oft said as much to him when he refused to let others suffer when he could reach out to them, but coming from Jill? It somehow meant something different. Rather than looking to her, he instead looked to their hands, his grip still firm upon her knee, her hand atop his own. The touch seemed so much more all the sudden, and yet he did not retreat from it.
However, the comments on Eastpool...they pulled him from such thoughts, his eyes narrowing in distaste. He hadn't truly considered that before but...did his mother truly hate his father in such a way? All because the people revered and trusted him as their leader? She had never seemed to care about such things when she was the Duchess beside him, but maybe because that was the position she held, and it demanded respect beside Elwin. But without him? The people didn't care for her in the slightest, and perhaps that had helped drive her to such madness. Jill was right, he would never understand his mother.
When Jill rested her head upon his shoulder, his head turned just slightly so that he might look upon her, the shifting in their hands accepted with no resistance at all. Fingers laced together with ease, as if it were a practiced motion, though neither had done so as much as he might have liked.
"Thank you, Jill..." His words were a whisper, his head moving to lean against her own just lightly as they sat there. Knowing that she would be there when it came time to face her down again... "I couldn't have made it here without you." Here as in who he was as a person, and this physical space, both. She always was a pillar of support for him, especially when things were bad, and he ought to return the favor. He would return the favor. Even if it meant killing her when the time came, much as it would sit like poison in his belly.
"And I'll be at your side when you need me, to help you stand as you helped me." It was the least he could do for her, after everything. The least she deserved, when she should have had so much more. His grip on her hand squeezed ever so gently, holding her touch to his as if afraid it would slip through is fingers like grains of sand if he did not. "I hope I can live up to your vision of me, be the man you see me as. There would be no greater honor."
β βΈ» It felt like an entire lifetime ago that he had left for Origin to go and face Ultima. A lifetime in which she had paced the length and breadth of the Hideaway worrying if he would ever come back. The truth was it had only been weeks, weeks in which he was gone and weeks in which he had been in bed and barely able to move. When he had returned she thought she would lose him all over again, that one morning she would wake and find he'd simply not had the strength to keep going, to make it until the dawn. Every night she prayed for him to get better, to be able to get out of that bed and start enjoying the life he had fought for, not just for everyone else, but for himself, too.
It was a surprise to no one that once he'd had a few days of being back on his feet that he had begun talking about leaving the Hideaway, of course Tarja had protested, loudly and at length, as to why it was better that he stay put, and the sentiments were echoed around him at equal length and volume. But Clive had made up his mind, he wanted to leave and he had wanted to take Jill with him, to spend time with her.
Oh, how she'd worried that this was some sort of funeral march, that he knew his strength was waning and wanted to say goodbye to her and Valisthea before... before the end.
To her surprise, he had only gotten stronger with each passing day.
As they sat there, his hand in hers and a smile upon both of her faces, she wondered if here is where she should tell him something that had been on her mind the past few weeks, or if there was some place better in which to tell him. She'd started to tell him when he'd asked her where she wanted to settle down, and even as he kissed at her knuckles and told her there was no one else he would rather have at his side, she decided that she could wait a little longer, that what she needed to tell him could wait.
β Not the Hideaway? β His answer took her by surprise, after all, the Fallen airship in the middle of the lake had been his find, and he had spent so many years ensuring everyone that called it home felt safe, felt as though they could have a future there, so to hear he wanted to be elsewhere, that he wanted room for them... well, how could she not smile at him for his sweet sentiment?
β Then we'll find somewhere else... a place just for the two of us, a place in which, as you have said, has a little more space for us both... and what would we do with this space? Have you thought on that? β
Her surprise at his answer wasn't necessarily unexpected, he had spent so long trying to build the Hideaway into a home to all who needed it, an escape from the world that wished to determine their lives. But, that purpose had been realized. Once, he had questioned Quinten on why he would abandon the home he had built over so many years, and the answer he had received had confused him. How could one abandon what had been so painstakingly built over so many years? Because it was time to build something new. To a new purpose. He would never deny that the Hideaway was a home to him, but it needn't be the only one. He needn't continue to make that the center of his being, like he had for so many years. His task was done, and Cid's dream had been realized. Now it was time for Clive to live on.
What surprised him, was how easily Jill agreed with him. His gaze drifted to her again as she repeated his wish for more space for them, only to then question if he had considered what he might have wanted for them using that space. He had, honestly. A lot of time spent in his sickbed these last few weeks had been consisting of that. He wanted a place for them, that they could focus on themselves. Perhaps it was selfish, but the last few weeks had convinced him that maybe he had given enough of himself to the cause. That wasn't to say he wouldn't continue to aid whatever ends those at the Hideaway pursued, but...he wanted the peace of living with the woman he loved.
"I have thought on that, a little." He spoke almost sheepishly, a smile on his lips though he wasn't looking at her. Admitting this was a little more...difficult than thinking it was. Not that he had any reason to worry about her response, but it was still verbalizing what had been a thought and only a thought for some time.
It took a moment before he was willing to expound upon that. "A space for Torgal to run and enjoy the grass. He's been cooped on an airship for too long." There was also the worry that the faithful hound was getting on his years. Torgal often didn't act his age, but the Frost Wolf was nearing his twentieth year, a feat indeed for any one of his breed. It was after that, that Clive's cheeks reddened slightly, his gaze drifting back to Jill. His grip on her hand tightened ever so gently, as much as those stone fingers could. "Perhaps...we could start a family?" That, was a whisper that even she might struggle to hear over the sounds of the Sins in the distance, though his eyes sought hers, wondering how she might react to such a thing. They had never gotten the chance to discuss their future together, but he had professed his love for her already, and along with that, meant he was going to try and grow old and grey with her. Perhaps that question was a bit premature, considering they were only just starting out, but they weren't exactly young anymore either.
Clive wasn't aware of whatever it was she wished to speak with him about, or that she even had something to say, but perhaps she would find a place to speak it after that momentous proposal.
