A Feeling (part 3)

I think something might be wrong with me.

Concentrating is becoming exponentially more arduous for me, and it's beginning to extend into other areas of life. My spells feel different, almost alien, now. When I attempt to cast a spell, it feels more unpredictable. Sometimes the spells are less powerful than I intend, other times, more powerful...once, two spells even sort of melded together into something else completely.

Maybe I should take it easy. Rest more, try not to utilize my spells as much for a few days? I suppose that will have to do for the time being, I'm sure that all I need is to spend a day or two in bed and a couple more days without any stressful activities and my concentration will be back to normal again.

I hope.


------------------------------------------------------------


Something is wrong. Something is definately wrong.

My spells...I...I'm afraid I can't control it. I feel more like...like it's controlling me. Spells casting of their own volition, regardless of whether or not I'm making any attempt to cast any spells at all. Spells I cast go completely haywire or out of control, no matter how hard I try to concentrate and keep it from becoming too hazardous.

I'm too dangerous to stay here. I will not endanger the lives of people around me. I can't. I just...I can't.

I need to leave here. Now.


-----------------------------------------------------------


A moogle flutters into the room, looking around for his master. No sign of him is readily obvious--the room looks more disheveled than usual, several things knocked over onto the floor...he begins to become worried as he sees one of his master's plants is now crystalline, frozen with ice that doesn't seem to be melting at all, a scorch mark in the shape of a hand along the wall, and a letter amidst the chaos left in the wake of what seems to have almost been a fight.

The letter seems to be addressed to Kre'oss, and the moogle carries it off in search of the letter's addressee.



Kre'oss,

I'm sorry. I cannot stay here any longer. It's as I feared, I can't control it anymore, and I only wish I could see the signs sooner. Unfortunately, hind sight does no good now, does it? I'm afraid that I'm forced to keep this short, so I can't explain it. I can't stay in Windurst. Or any populated area right now. I'm going home. I can only pray that I'll be able to return...I love you, Kre'oss, and I'm sorry for any pain or trouble I've caused you. I hope you can forgive me for the trouble I've put you, and everyone else, through. Please don't follow me...please. I can't explain, but following me might put you, and anyone who comes with you, in danger. And I don't want that.

Goodbye.
-Caen'ir


(( Last one for now. ))

A Feeling (part 2)

I don't understand what's going on anymore. It's been getting more and more difficult for me to concentrate recently. I constantly find my mind wandering, and sometimes it feels like it's impossible to get it back under control once more. Maybe it's that odd feeling I've been having lately. I'm still unsure of what's causing it and what, exactly, it's about, but it hasn't gone away yet.

This can't keep going on. It's really starting to bother me...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something must be wrong with me.

When I woke up this morning, I wasn't in my bed. I wasn't on the floor, either. In fact...I wasn't on the ground at all. I was floating. That's right. Floating. I don't know how. What's happening to me? Maybe...maybe I just imagined it all? Laying on a bed of air and magic? Falling back onto my own bed? Perhaps it was all just a dream? Yes...just a dream.

That has to have been it. Just a weird, vivid, dream.

(( Sorry I keep posting short ones. I might combine them all into one big post when I'm done. ))

A Feeling (part 1)

I can barely hear myself think.

Incantations are spoken in hushed whispers throughout my mind. The words and letters blur, melding together indistinctly. I can't hush the voices or stop the intermingling of the words--I can only watch helplessly as they do so. I can feel it slipping, but I'm afraid I can't hold onto it. I...am not sure what "it" is, but when I imagine not having it, I can feel a knot of horror in the pit of my stomach.

It isn't a person. It isn't a phsyical object. I don't know how I know this, but whatever "it" is, I know it's not either of those. It's something I feel like I require, but what? I can't, for the life of me, figure it out.

What is "it"? Why am I so frightened by the possible loss of it? How and why am I losing it? Is there even an "it"? Or...am I just imagining things?

I need to know. Soon.

The legacy of the Zilart. (Age of Adventurers)

My name is Kao'nir, and I am the Archduke of Jeuno.

Why Jeuno should need an Archduke is beyond me, because the city's been empty for as long as I can remember. My mother says it was abandoned shortly before I was born. I go there to play sometimes with Jalah, my guardian. There are leaves strewn in the streets and the detrius of years of neglect. It's amazing how quickly Vana'diel takes back its own.

My mother is my regent. The others that remain with us in Delkfutt's Tower call her the Duke Vicarious. There are only twenty or so of us, people who cling to the old ways, my mother says, people who don't want to acknowledge that the Grand Duchy is little more than a footnote to history. The previous Archduke, my father Kam'lanaut, died before I was born. His brother, my uncle Eald'narche, has been missing for twenty years and is assumed dead. That just leaves my mother and I to continue on.

But the secret that I keep, the reason that we continue on in Delkfutt's Tower, is that our line was entrusted with a grand mission.

"Kao'nir," my mother always told me, "we are the guardians of all life on Vana'diel. We aren't like other people. So, we have to protect them. We have to nurture the life force of this world, so that everyone in it is made safe."

When I was little, my mother would hold me before I fell asleep and tell me this story:

"In the beginning, there was a crystal. Its multi-colored light banished the darkness and brought forth mighty gods. Of these, the nature of the division between light and dark brought forth Altana, the Goddess of the Dawn, and Promathia, the God of Twilight. In time, the crystal shattered into five pieces, and the gods left this world behind for Paradise. What remained became our Vana'diel.

"Now, in time, the nature of the division created two peoples. There was a people of light, and a people of dark. Because the gods dwelled apart, the people of light had none to instruct them in the ways of the world. They relied on their technology and built a soaring white capital. They explored the world around them and knew it was good. And they shared a special bond--because they were filled with the light of the crystal, their minds and hearts were as one."

This was my favorite part of the story, because I could feel my mother's thoughts and feelings as she spoke.

"And the children of dark did not have this connection. Their hearts and minds were touched by shadows. They turned to the forces of magic and communed with the gods that were set to protect this world.

"When the elder prince of the people of light found the life-giving crystal, he had a vision of all that came before, and his people shared in his vision. The prince decided that his people would use their arts to attempt to make what was once whole, one again. But the people of dark disagreed, and they warred. When the war was over, the people of light were defeated, and the people of dark exhausted. The warring peoples passed away from Vana'diel, and left this world to the five races that would come of the crystal."

"Mother," I would say, "why did this happen? Why did the people die?"

"Because they lost sight of their primary duty: to protect the crystal. Without the crystal, we are all nothing more than dust and ash."

Then, one day, she added the important part.

"Kao'nir, you and I, and your father, are the last remnants of the people of light. We are Zilart. We are living members of the ancient race that died out 10,000 years ago."

And my life made complete sense. This was why I lived alone with my mother and her few confidants in Delkfutt's Tower. This was why I knew the thoughts and hearts of others. I was one of the people of light. It was because of our war that Vana'diel was rendered barren, then born anew. It was my birthright, and my family's curse.

"Shouldn't we not be here?" I asked her. "Our race is supposed to be gone.... it's not our time anymore."

"Your father felt the same way at first," she told me. "But in the end, we decided that it is the right of life to live. And, we decided to bear you to continue the legacy of the Zilart--that the Mothercrystal will always have a guardian. But bear this in mind too, Kao'nir--our ancient struggles must not be brought into this time. There are Kuluu that survive into this era as well, though only one or two. We must not begin the war again."

"Are there other Zilart?"

"We have all died out, but us two. We alone make up the Zilart race. When you pass on, my son, there will be no more Zilart. So, it is important that you live a long life and protect the crystal."

I was born for a purpose! The excitement of that thought, held so crystal-clear and firmly in my mother's mind, passed into my own, and filled me with energy and strength. My mother's mind was always turned toward duty. She was ancient, and the memories of thousands upon thousands of years were almost overwhelming for me; but her life was so dedicated to one overarching purpose that everything else was incidental. Mother was a woman who served the crystal. Her uniquely long life, and her singular sense of purpose, were bent only toward that goal. I sensed she loved me, of course, and admired my father, but their coupling had not been for any purpose other than conceiving the next generation of Zilart, the child to whom she would entrust the enormous duty of protecting the crystal.

This didn't make me feel lonely. I had a reason for living. And it's not like I would be alone.

Ever since I was able to sit up as a baby, I had Jalah by my side. He was an ancient arcana automaton, a large doll so rusted and weatherbeaten at first that it took me years to get him looking presentable. I could control and communicate with all Zilartian arcana, of course, but I had a special bond with Jalah; he would carry me on his broad shoulders as we explored Qufim Island together, and with a single thought I could move him as I wished.

-----

One day, we snuck back from Jeuno and Mother was waiting for us by the sloping entrance to Delkfutt's Tower with Wolfgang. Wolfgang had once been the captain of my father's Ducal Guard, but now Mother kept him with us as her bodyguard; the years had made his face worn, and he had steel-gray hair down to his chin. Mother kept very few in Delkfutt's Tower that were not the ancient scientists of the Armathrwn Society, now all so old and feeble that they needed help to eat and bathe themselves, but Wolfgang was one of the few Humes she allowed around. "Lord Kao'nir," Wolfgang said sternly, "you really should stop with these little side-trips. The city isn't safe for a boy on his own."

"I wasn't alone!" I protested. "I had Jalah with me after all!"

Jalah reached up a large hand and lifted me down from his shoulders, whirring faintly. "He says he'd never let anything bad happen to me, and that he sensed no life-forms inside Jeuno anyway," I translated.

Mother sighed. "More importantly, we required you back at the Tower for another purpose."

I raised my eyebrows. There was something different in her tone today. "What purpose, Mother?"

"Tomorrow is your twelfth birthday," Wolfgang said gruffly. "The Duke Vicarious thinks it's time for you to finally see the world outside of Qufim Island."

My heart leapt, and my eyes quickly flickered to my mother, reading the truth of his words in her mind. She nodded gravely. "I've decided to take you to La Theine Plateau," she said quietly, and I heard her adding in her mind, "This is a special rite of passage for you. Our people must honor the old ways and the old gods, that they might be appeased and the war will not continue."

"Will you be coming with us too, Wolfgang?" I asked him.

He shook his head, his eyes muted as he looked away, and I could feel his sorrow and worry, seemingly well-concealed. "No, Lady Esha'ntarl feels it is best she alone accompany you."

"Not even Jalah?!" I tried to hide my own disappointment, and Jalah whirred disconsolately next to me.

Mother stifled a small smile. "He would be pretty out of place where we're going. Don't worry, we will be back."

-----

The winds of the plateau were whipping our hair and clothes when we finally reached our destination: a small circle of weathered stones in the far north. I shivered and clutched my black robes to me more tightly; my mother had tamed my golden-colored hair as best she could before we came, and wrapped me in the robes of the Armathrwn Society, but I still looked sloppy and far shabbier than her. She stood in the center of the circle of stones, holding firmly onto my hand, the queen of the elements around her. The approaching storm rumbled off in the distance as she spoke firmly, her strident voice ringing off of the stones around us.

"O Carbuncle! Bringer of rainbows! I, Esha'ntarl, call you forth! I bring the hope for mankind--the protector of the crystal!"

I shrank back a little as the stones suddenly came alight in many colors, and a summoning circle appeared beneath us. I could suddenly feel a presence--as immense as it was ethereal, of Vana'diel yet so much more powerful than me that I felt like an insect. Was this a god?!

A turqoise creature appeared from the ether, floating above us, his own long tail wrapped around him. I recognized him from my studies: the terrestrial avatar, Carbuncle. The ruby-red gem on his head marked him true, glittering in the brilliant light from the stones and his own radiance. "Welcome, Esha'ntarl," he called forth, his genderless voice pressing into my mind. I tried to resist the urge to clamp my hands over my ears. "And welcome, Zilartian boy. What is your name?"

"K-Kao'nir," I stammered, flushing.

"Were your mother any less of an eminence than the woman who stands outside of time, I would kill you," Carbuncle said conversationally. "The Zilart are the enemies of the avatars, and of the crystal."

"That time is past," Esha'ntarl said firmly. "Only we remain, my son and myself. And we stand ready to take up our destiny as the protectors of the crystal. We have no intentions of opening the Gates of Paradise."

Carbuncle lowered himself and gazed into my eyes, his face close to mine. His own were large and blacker than the darkest night sky. I shrank back slightly, overwhelmed. "Is that so?" he asked softly. "Do you intend to forswear the treachery of your ancestors, Kao'nir, and protect this world?"

"I... I do...." I said faintly. "I want to protect Vana'diel! It's the reason I was born...."

"But that's not enough!" Carbuncle said sternly. "This is no longer the world for Zilart or Kuluu alike. This world is peopled by new types of man, by those who stand apart from the ancient struggle between light and dark, and charge into it headlong and without regrets. How can you, one hampered by the tragic history and destiny of your kind, possibly presume to defend the crystal better than they?"

These were big questions, questions I had not prepared myself for. I glanced up at my mother, but her mind and eyes were closed, and she remained mute. I sensed this was for me alone to decide. I looked back to Carbuncle. "Protecting the crystal isn't any one person or race's responsibility... but I have a unique ability to do so. My mother has trained me from my earliest childhood, taught me the histories, my responsibilities as one of the ancients, and I have the whisper of the soul!" I leaned forward in my eagerness, my momentary fear of the terrestrial avatar gone. "I might just be a child, but this is the purpose of my life! This is what I want to do--please, Lord Carbuncle, give me your blessing! Being Zilart or Kuluu doesn't matter anymore, all that matters is that I want to help make Vana'diel safe!"

Carbuncle regarded me for a long moment, then looked back to Mother. "You have done well, Lady Esha'ntarl," he said thoughtfully. "This boy is sincere, and his mind is as plate-glass. You have raised him to be almost as focused on his duty as you yourself are, and for that you are to be commended. But the fact remains that he is a Zilart, and our ancient hatreds are slow to die."

"We can overcome that hatred," Mother said with finality; there was no doubt at all in her mind, and I drew on that, pulling her determination into myself as we faced Carbuncle together.

"Then I give my blessing in the hopes that you are right," Carbuncle said, and he touched his nose briefly to my forehead. It felt quite cold, and a tingling energy passed from him into me. I shivered. "The boy must journey to each of my brothers in turn, however, and ask THEIR blessings--alone."

"Alone?!" Mother exclaimed. "But he is only--"

"If he is sincere and courageous he will have nothing to fear," Carbuncle said dismissively. "The boy seems free from the sins of your kind--the egomania of Kam'lanaut, the insanity of Eald'narche, and the taint of his father."

I started, my insides freezing. "W-what?... But... but Kam'lanaut--the Archduke of Jeuno--was my father..."

"Is that what you were told?" Carbuncle asked mildly. "That is not true. Seek out my brothers--Fenrir, Diabolos, and Bahamut the Wyrm-King--and obtain their blessing, young Zilart boy. Go in peace."

He leapt into the air, his tail wrapping tightly around himself as his form dissipated into brilliant light. I ran after him. "Wait!" I yelled. "Wait--who was my father?!"

The faint whisper echoed in my mind as the light faded from view. "Your father? The fallen one, the black warrior--Kre'oss."

Neglect (AoA)

I saw a man beating a child today.

It was a Hume man beating a little Galka boy. The Galka boy must've been 8 or 9 years old, though it's hard to tell with them. He had his big arms up around his head and he was crying in a thin, wailing voice; he'd lost a lot of weight for a Galka, and the man was hitting him around the head and shoulders with a switch. He was putting a lot of force into it.

I was "one" that day. I don't like being "one." I feel like a different person when I am "one" rather than when we are "two."

"What is that called again, Ally?"

"Child abuse, right?"

"Yeah. Why would anyone beat a child like that?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's because he was bad, or because the man was mean."

"It was a Hume, so it wasn't like it was his papa."

"Grown-ups are so careless."

"Yeah, they have kids they don't want."

"They don't take responsibility."

"They treat them harshly, or leave them all alone to raise themselves."

"But that's what Papa and Mama did to us!"

"So we've been 'abused' too?"

"Yeah, they did just the same. But we turned out okay, didn't we?"

"Of course! We're okay because we're never alone."

"If I didn't have you, it'd be impossible."

"I know."

"Does that mean Nii-chan was 'abused'?"

"No. Papa and Mama wanted Nii-chan. He was with them alone for six years."

"They must've been so happy. Nii-chan looks a lot like Papa."

"Nii-chan is a lot like Papa, too."

"He's more like Papa than us."

"We must be like Mama."

"Nii-chan thinks he's the only one that was hurt when Mama died."

"Nii-chan would laugh if we said we'd been neglected."

"Maybe he's right.... he's 'one' after all."

"But he has memories of Mama."

"Yeah."

"We're the ones that killed her."

"Yeah."

"So, does that mean we're the reason Nii-chan was 'abused'?"

"He's lonely because of us."

"We really are the bad people."

"Yeah, we're the bad people."

"This is why he hates us."

"He hates us."

We're together, but we're alone. I never had to ask what it means to trust someone. I've always known the meaning. The "A" burned into my chest was proof.

Open Sea (Age of Adventurers)

The musketeers never looked on the rooftops. Sure, from the upper windows of the nearby homes you could maybe make out his prone figure laying on top of the warehouse but given the dead of night and the lack of lamps that high, it was a slim chance. Despite the chaos below him as the musketeers searched for anyone foolish enough to hide on ground level Ranulfe was comfortable. Above him the clear night sky shone down on him, the moon half full. Beside him the open waters of the Bastore Sea gently sloshed against the stone walls bracing the harbor. It was easy to tune out the clanking footsteps in armor and just think.

He was still stinging from his argument with Ceelia the day before. What was it she had said? It was odd for him to worry about his sisters? It wasn't always like that. He recalled a time when they were younger.
***
"Hi Nii-chan!"

"Hi Nii-chan!"

They spoke in almost unison and smiled at him with a dripping sweetness that was infectious. They were so cute in their matching outfits, standing next to him at the breakfast table and holding hands. The morning was still young and already it was just them at home. They were maybe seven.

"Morning, you two," he said smiling back. They were always so upbeat when they were together.

"Morning you two!"

"Morning you two!"

Ranulfe sighed and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and went back to finishing the bowl of oatmeal before him while grinning. His sisters giggled and in unison rolled their eyes and put the back of their hands to their foreheads, sighing heavily.

"So what are you going to do today?" he said between mouthfuls of his breakfast.

"So what are you going to do today?"

"So what are you going to do today?"

The mithra giggled again, their eyes shining happily.

"Oh me? I'm going to go eat some bugs in Gustaberg." Ranulfe smiled a bit as his sisters' smiles faded just a bit and there was a distinct pause before they replied.

"Oh, me? I'm going to go eat some bugs in Gustaberg."

"Oh, me? I'm going to go eat some bugs in Gustaberg."

Ranulfe laughed and his sisters did their best to mimic him, genuine laughter pouring through.

"Are you going to copy me all day?" he asked with his tongue in his cheek.

"Are you going to copy me all day?"

"Are you going to copy me all day?"

"I guess so."

"I guess so."

"I guess so."

"Idon'thinkit'sthatfunnysoyoushouldjustquititrightnow!"

"Idon'thinkit'sthatfunnysoyoushouldjustquititrightnow!"

"Idon'thinkit'sthatfunnysoyoushouldjustquititrightnow!"

Ranulfe smiled at his sisters and laughed, the twins in front of him giggling like mad and waiting for the next challenge.

"Okay, I guess you win..."

"Okay, I gues you win..."

"Okay, I gues you win..."

"But that's only because I smell like a galka!"

"Eeeee! Nii-chan admitted he smells like a gal~ka!"

"A big smelly gal~ka, Nii-chan is!"

His sisters giggled and clasped hands over their mouths. Ranulfe rolled his eyes and polished off his breakfast as his sisters held their noses and waved their hands in front of their faces, making over the top faces.
"Ew, he does smell like a gal~ka!"
"A great big stinky gal~ka! Worse than a cho~co~bo!"
They looked at each other just then, seemingly shocked by the inclusion of the big yellow birds.

"A cho~co~bo?

"Yes, a big smelly cho~co~bo!" They turned their attention towards their brother with starry-eyed wonder.

"Do you think he could carry us like a cho~co~bo?" came the question like he wasn't even there.

"Nii-chan!"

"Nii-chan!"

"Carry us like a cho~co~bo!" they shouted in unison, their hands outstretched to their older brother. "You don't want to be carried by a dirty galkan chocobo, though..."
"We do! We're sorry you said you smell."
"Yeah, you said you smell."
Ranulfe sighed and before long the people of the markets saw the hume boy running around with a pair of mithra affixed to his back.

Hatred (Age of Adventurers)

"And WE'RE going to be the ones to make Mama and Papa proud!"

So it was like that, then? Didn't she get they were already his favorite? Who were they trying to prove themselves to? Ranulfe sat with his head in his hands at the waterfront, only partially paying attention to the men unloading the cargo from the boat currently docked.

"I HATE YOU NII-CHAN!"

His sisters were so prone to emotional outbursts. They were constantly turned to maximum voltage and it was sometimes hard to be around. He knew she didn't mean it; it wouldn't be the last time she'd yell at him like that he was sure.

What was it she said? Something about him being JEALOUS he wasn't an adventurer? That was laughable. The Tenshodo didn't need a shiny piece of paper to allow them to act. They didn't need the resources of a pacified nation, either, OR the assistance of the Moogles. No sir, the Tenshodo didn't need anyone to get by, and they didn't since Aldo had died. Everyone for themselves, no central organization here. No way, no how.

Still, someone needed to keep an eye on his sisters. He knew he couldn't count on his father and no one else in the city would care much about the twins who became adventurers. Maybe when he left Bastok for Ephramad he could take them with him. There's a laughable thought. Like they have any skills to offer a scoundrel group.

Leave the skulking in the shadows and things your parents wouldn't be proud of to him. They're the ones people will remember.

One of Two (AoA)

Ally and I grew up without a mother.

*** *** ***

"We're the bad people, aren't we?"

"Yeah."

"We killed Mama."

"Yeah. We killed her."

"That makes us murderers, right?"

"We're the bad people."

"How do we make it right?"

"We can't let anyone know."

"No one will know."

"Papa would be mad if we said it."

"Papa doesn't blame us. He blames himself."

"Nii-chan blames Papa, too."

"Nii-chan would hate us if he knew it was our fault."

"Nii-chan already hates us. I think he knows deep down that it's our fault."

"Yes, Nii-chan hates us.... why doesn't Papa hate us?"

"He hates us, too. He hates us, but he loves us too, because we remind him of Mama."

*** *** ***

Nii-chan hated Papa. He didn't say so out loud, but my first memory of him was of his silhouette by the fireplace, small and hunched, the lines of his back and his dark, almost black hair falling into his face, his small hands balled up. We couldn't have been more than three or four at the time, which means Nii-chan must have been almost ten. He never said so, but his eyes turned almost as black as coal whenever they looked at Papa, and at that moment, his form framed against the smoldering embers of the fire in late winter--I knew.

Our older brother hated our father.

Papa told us that Ally and I were once one person, one flesh and one body, and that the Goddess split us into two. "Why, Papa?" Ally asked him, and he held us closer.

"So you would never be alone."

This made sense to me. I had Ally; she had me. We were never alone, and rarely apart. There's no need to ever be truly lonely. I had someone who shared my flesh, my mind, my feelings, my thoughts, my secret fears and desires, my hates and loves. Ally and I didn't want to be individuals. We had small tics that made us slightly different from one another, but at the deepest level, we chose to be the same. We wanted to be one person, separated into two bodies. We didn't want to have to feel that loneliness that divides all people in their souls. Papa called it "Emptiness."

I had Ally to fill the Emptiness. She had me. We had each other.

Nii-chan didn't have anybody. I felt sorry for Nii-chan. But, looking at him made me afraid.

It seemed impossible to me to love anyone but Ally. I loved Papa to distraction, but there was always a part of him that held itself away from us; I think it hurt him a little to look at us, to hold us, to hug us or tell us that he loved us. It must hurt, I thought; it hurts Papa to look at us and see Mama in our eyes. And then the shame would begin again, the intense shame of We killed Mama!

From the moment I became conscious of Nii-chan's hatred for Papa, I realized that he should REALLY hate me and Ally. We were the bad people.

It made sense. Everyone who knew hates us. That's why we were made two. We had each other. We didn't have anybody else.

The Goddess made us two because we have no one else, and never will.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Where Two Paths Diverge (Age of Adventurers)

I spent less and less time at home after they were born. It didn't help that I would always associate their first day of life with her last. They won't ever remember her, they never got to meet her. I do. I remember cold morning at home while he was still out adventuring. I remember snuggling under the blankets while she'd read to me. I remember the way she would pronounce her R's. I remember all of it.

I don't blame him. He had to suddenly take over being the mom in a sense. He didn't know her practicality. He didn't know just how warm to make hot chocolate in the winter. He didn't know what stories were my favorite. He didn't know how to be her. When Ceecee and Ally were born, it changed everything. He had to give up being an adventurer. She had to give up being our mom. I gave up being his son.

He showered them with attention. I would say I was going out and he would just nod and look at me, like he expected something from me. I would stay out late and come home and he'd have them tucked under his arms, dozing wherever he was sitting. He was a wonderful father for them. He would always read to them when they were old enough to enjoy the stories. He would tell them tales of his days as an adventurer, stories of massive dragons and terrible demons and the sort of stuff that used to exist. He was their dad. Their Papa.

I remember the look he gave me when I came home with the topknot. The only two types of people who would wear their hair up like that were the wannabes and the Tenshodo. He looked at me like... Like he was disappointed in me. That's fine. It only took him years to finally show it. I don't think he ever wanted me around. I wasn't his daughter. I wasn't his favorite. After Mom died things were never the same between me and him.

I remember back during our last Horror Festival I was dressed like my dad, the monster-slayer. I had on a replica Aketon for Bastok with a toy greataxe and everything. I was going to grow up to be just like my dad...

I don't need to be like him. I don't need the sanction of a nation to be somebody. I don't need to follow in his footsteps to change the world. I'm learning my own way in Bastok, and it has nothing to do with being a part of the Republic. Let him take care of his daughters. Let him be their Papa. I have my own family, and they actually care about me.

Introducing the Age of Adventurers Campaign!

Yes, that's right, an all-new optional campaign for those looking to shake up the Nightblades RP.

It is now forty years after the end of the Crystal War. The Age of Adventurers has begun, and Vana'diel is changing. Bastok, Windurst, and San d'Oria have all drastically reduced their armed forces and are truly at peace; adventurers campaign for the three nations in organized tourneys and the Conquest tallies as a means of keeping combat skills sharp and the fiend populations under control. With the deaths of the Archduke and his brother, Jeuno has fallen into decline, and 5 years after their death, closed their doors to adventurers. The Empire of the Near East, Aht Urhgan, has come into ascendancy with a new era of peace and prosperity, and Imperial Whitegate has doubled in size as it has become the new financial center of the world. Tavnazia and the Kingdom of Ephramad flourish as small independent kingdoms, and the Tenshodo has splintered apart with the deaths of Aldo and Gilgamesh.

Mai Ikari wanders Vana'diel for unknown purposes, her son striking out on his own to control the avatars that used his father as their puppet. Lyall's children take divergent paths: his twin daughters turning to each other, even as his son lashes out at the chaotic world around him. The young man Sparhawk guided to adulthood finds his answers in Ephramad, hating the "fate" that Sparhawk so strongly believed in and instead giving his life over to luck; and a young Scholar believes she has finally solved the riddle of how to open the way to the world of the gods, and what awaits them there.

What perils await our new heroes in this... the Age of Adventurers? *dramatic music* Let me or Lyall know if you have a concept you want to play for this campaign.

~Soli~

A New Perspective (Age of Adventurers)

Things change a lot in a couple of decades. Tsurai says that we used to be spread all over the world, working out of the Far East. Its the stuff legends are made from, an invincible band of thieves and brigands who stalked treasure the world over, smuggling goods and taking what they wanted while cradled in the foot of the also-invincible Duchy. Its a great story but its just that. A story.

If we DID use to be an uncatchable band of thieves we lost something when Aldo passed. The older guys insist we used to actually run business out of this port. They say that, since the demilitarization of Bastok, these docks are no longer used for industry. Bastok actually closed the docks down years ago but that never stopped us, did it? The longtime members state that to be an Iron Musketeer now all you need to do is fit into the armor, and in the same breath go on about how it used to mean something to elude them.

We're not just a band of thieves. We're not just the criminals we're made out to be. Sure, not everyone here is a saint but there are skills you can learn here you can't learn anywhere else. Not everyone wants to know how to polish a set of platemail or guard a door. I've learned how to do a lot of things in my time here and Tsurai says I'll go far if I stick with it. I think I will. My sisters can sign up with the Bastokan Legions and learn to be adventurers proper, I'll do things off the beaten path. One day I'll disappear from here and go learn my craft in Norg with the Ephramadians.

Who needs to be an adventurer to have adventures?

Full Moon 98%

The one thing he missed most about being under the stars was the pleasant twinkle of starlight that would illuminate the world below. Couped up in his mog house there were no real windows so the only light came from the fireplace or any of the candles that had been lit around the bed. It wasn't that he couldn't sleep, it was that he didn't want to. She had only just returned afterall.

She was sleeping between him and the wall, nestled between the sheets of the bed and the blanket. He gazed at her while and couldn't help himself from smiling. Even in her sleep she was beautiful and when she exhaled he could hear her purring. He caught himself staring and smiling and wondered what she was dreaming of.

"I'm not as strong as I used to be... I'll need you to protect me, you know..."

The day had flipped so quickly, from the unease of setting out from Whitegate to the fear in the actual testing grounds. The air there didn't settle well with the gnole and Lyall shivered trying to be rid of that encroaching feeling on his chest. They had gambled with the devils and for the most part had come out with the lion's share of the winnings...

Lyall sighed, the sheet draped around his waist. He ran a tired hand through his hair and tried to shake the images of Briddy's last moments from his head. His mind wondered where she was, what was happening to her... Slipping from the bed he paced restlessly around his mog house, avoiding furniture absentmindedly.

She had chosen this for them all. Briddy's largest flaw was that she loved everyone, she wanted everyone happy even at the cost of herself. He remembered back in Buburimu, when-

Loo stirred. Lyall froze, turning to her and hoping she wouldn't wake. She would worry why he was up, she would worry and he didn't want her to. This was their second chance and it came because Briddy had loved them both and wanted them to be happy. Briddy had offered up herself in exchange for Loo. It was her gift to them.

The mithra rolled over and draped an arm where Lyall should have been and for a moment her face seemed distraught. The moment passed and she returned to peaceful slumber, purring all the same. Lyall's eyes traced her body and what wasn't covered by the cloth, admiring her. She had been in top form today even if she felt she wasn't as strong as she was. She was still strong. She was still capable. She was still Loo.

It warmed him through and through that she was back. Here she was, the love of his life, the one who understood and embraced the gnole and the one who brought him to come to understand it himself. She was all he could ask for in a partner and tonight they had agreed to follow through the plans they made before... Before she went away. They had reunited, she had returned.

On their last night they had lain together, truly in love with one another despite the unseen looming horror that would engulf them the following afternoon. Tonight, on their first night, they had lain together, truly in love.

"Is this a beginning then...?


The bards across Vana'diel would tell stories for eternity of the mithra who loved a gnole-blooded and how not even death or the Underworld would keep them apart.

From the Desk of the Viceroy of Funny Shit At NBcon

1) Anytime Matric or Lyall make a vomiting noise, it means one of them came.

2) The number of pancakes is proportional to the number of terabytes of pr0n Mai has on a portable HD.

3) If Lyall's hands aren't visible, he's beating off.

4) If Lyall's hands are visible, he's trying to get Ramp to beat him off.

5) When Tsiife says "Naked time" he means it.

6) When Tsiife says "Naked time" he really fucking means it. Seriously, don't look because you'll see his dick.

7) There is always a new dick joke popping up.

8) Someone is always erect.

9) Your mom is a faggot.

10) Ketchup bottles are stand-ins for penises.

11) Matric really is that god damned dreamy.

Feel free to add whatever I missed. This is hard (like my penis) when I'm not in conversation. (Also like my penis.)

NBcon Logistics

Hi guys,

As you all are likely aware, NBcon is right around the corner! I figured I'd go over the logistics with everyone so we're all on the same page.

Wednesday, I'm planning on driving up to Mai's place, since he has Wednesday off from school. I'm going to stay with him Thursday and Friday, and Saturday morning at around 2 a.m., we're going to head off to JFK Airport.

Leg 1: Mai's House to JFK Airport: 3 hours 15 minutes
Tsiife and Seik arrive around 6:30, almost simultaneously. We should have time for some breakfast at the airport before we leave!

Leg 2: JFK Airport to Lyall's House: 2 hours, 4 minutes
Tsiife and Seik will split up into my and Mai's cars, and we'll head out to Philly. Lyall's family lives on a rather cramped one-way street so parking might be.... iffy D: But we shouldn't be there long before....

Leg 3: Lyall's House to Scranton Airport: 2 hours, 8 minutes
I'll add Lyall to my car and off we go to pick up Rampy. Rampy's plane lands at 12:55 p.m. so I don't wanna keep him waiting too long x.x I know it'll be a lonely feeling if he has to sit there and wait by himself. Of course, we also only have the vaguest idea of what Rampy looks like D: I hope he can find us at the airport.... just look for the crowd of geeks Rampy!

Leg 4: Scranton Airport to the Hotel: 59 minutes
The final leg is mostly state highways and backroads. I have the feeling it'll be winding up into the mountains so we should enjoy the drive and the view!

Total travel time should be only about 8 hours, but what with waiting in airports I'm guessing it'll be more like 10. Hopefully, we'll be to the hotel by mid-afternoon and get the room set up to our liking.

Of course if there are any delays, hitches, snafus, problems, issues, concerns, or bitches, spam-call my phone into oblivion D: I want to hear it all, preferably BEFORE it fucks up our meeting ^^ Let's make this the biggest and best NBcon yet! ;P

~Soli~

Happy Birthday Mai!

Happy Birthday Mai! Here's your cake...

The Melancholy of Mai Ikari

Lol This was a fun to draw.

Indestructible, part 3

((Last part.... couldn't stop writing once I started x.x;;))

"Mai, guard Seik.... we can't have our precious flower taken from us, now, can we?" Alberic smirked at Sparhawk, slinging the sheathed sword onto his shoulder. Unwillingly, yet unable to resist the mastery in his voice, Mai backed up to stand beneath Seik, her eyes fixed on the black-armored form before them.

Sparhawk said nothing, asked nothing. He simply reached onto the sheath in his back and drew the long, black-bladed great sword, the steely rasp of the finely tempered steel leaving its scabbard seemed to echo through the tomb, and Alberic laughed in delight. "Good, that's good, Anakha!" he shouted joyfully, and brandished the sword in his arms as if it were drawn. "Now, let's fight!"

There was no trace of remorse or hesitation on Sparhawk's face; it was as if it were carved in stone, and when he charged at Alberic, his blade crackled with lightning as he swung it around in a powerful stroke. Alberic looked incredulous, delightedly so, as if this were more than he could have possibly expected; he parried Sparhawk's first, mighty swing with a swing of his own, the two men wielding the swords with brutal skill. Even as they clashed physically, Pandion-tempered steel meeting the ornate scabbard of Lightbringer again and again, the magical battle was just as intense, black lightning arcing from Sparhawk's hands and flame bursting from Alberic's maw. Sparhawk wasted no energy on words, and his flat, intense expression did not change one bit.

Lightbringer's sheath was not made for intense combat, and the brilliant blade within was exposed with each chop of Sparhawk's heavy black blade. Glittering white light shone forth from the cuts, and Alberic took full advantage, dazing Sparhawk with the light gleaming from the flat of the blade. Mai occasionally twitched as if to run to Alberic whenever Sparhawk's attacks came too close, but Alberic shook off the magical attacks impatiently. Fused with Bahamut, he was nearly the embodiment of the avatar, and Sparhawk's prodigious skill was not enough to surpass that.

Alberic blasted flame into Sparhawk's face, and he staggered back, scraping a gauntleted fist against his eyes, and Alberic launched himself at Sparhawk, driving his shoulder into the smaller man with a thrust of his wings. Sparhawk fell heavily to his knees, whipping a dagger out from his boot and driving it into Alberic's knee; the dragonkin screamed, his head whipping back, and
Mai could hold herself back no longer, charging forward and leaping at Sparhawk, screaming herself, made wild by Alberic's pain. Sparhawk lurched out of the way, rolling clumsily in his armor, lashing out at Mai with magic, and she fell heavily to the ground, bound to the spot--but her attack had diverted Sparhawk's attention enough that Alberic twirled on his good leg and ripped off Lightbringer's scabbard, burying the glowing blade into Sparhawk's back.

Sparhawk stiffened, looking down at the glowing, legendary blade sticking from his chest. Alberic laughed and laughed, a hysterical sound that caused Seik to stir on the beam above. "HAHAHAHAHA! Yes, YES! Die, Anakha! Die--and let me take your place!" Alberic extended a hand at Sparhawk as he fell heavily to his face. "Give me your power, give me your freedom! Let me be unbound from destiny as you are!!"

"Alberic!" Mai called weakly, still struggling against the Bind spell holding her in place, but her cry was drowned out by the scream of horror and anguish above them. "SPARHAWK!!!!" Seik was staring down at them as if her entire world was ending, struggling feebly against her bonds, staring down at Sparhawk with Lightbringer through his heart. Blood gushed from Sparhawk's body, pouring out onto the grass, dripping from crevices in his black armor.

Alberic turned away, his expression satisfied and exhausted, limping and dragging his bad leg. But a faint rattle from behind him made him turn, raising an eyebrow, a trail of blood winding down his cheek from a cut in his black hair.

Sparhawk was slowly pushing himself back up, his mail fists pushed into the muddy ground beneath him. "Are you still trying to fight?" Alberic said, his tone a mixture of amusement and amazement. "But you've lost. -I- am Anakha now."

Mai and Seik caught their breaths as Sparhawk reached back around himself and slowly pulled Lightbrighter from his body. Blood flowed even more freely from the wound, but he came to his feet, his eyes fixed implacably on Alberic, and he raised the legendary sword, taking up his black blade with the other. Alberic took a step back, dumbfounded. "But... but how... this is impossible!! You are DEAD!"

Sparhawk charged at Alberic, the weakness of his wounds seeming to fall away as if they had never happened, and whirled both immense blades at Alberic, driving him back; the black blade sheared off one of Alberic's twisted horns, and it went flying, impaling itself into the earth; the other chopped into Alberic's arm, and he tossed his head back like a wounded dragon, breathing flame, but Sparhawk blocked it with the flat of Lightbringer's radiant blade; Mai tried to run to Alberic, but the Bind spell held her fast, and she could do nothing but watch in horror as Sparhawk drove Alberic to the base of the beam holding Seik, and for the first time, Sparhawk spoke.

"Now, I end this."

He reared back, and Alberic lunged, but Sparhawk's arms were faster, burying both swords deep into Alberic, pinning him to the base of the beam, Lightbringer in his chest and the black sword in his belly. Alberic did not even scream, staring up at the star-filled sky as if incomprehending; blood poured from his unresisting lips and he grinned faintly, unseeing. Sparhawk straightened, looking at Alberic pitilessly, the flow of blood from his armor having ceased; Alberic slowly lowered his gaze to meet Anakha's, and understanding dawned within them. "I see..." he whispered, his voice strangled, and a slow rattle filled his throat. "A... Anakha is...."

Then, his head sagged back against the beam, and his body turned into light and dissipated into the night.

Indestructible, part 2

((Yeah, I know I just posted part 1.... sue me >.>))

"What have you done, Alby...." Mai's voice noticeably shook as she looked up at Seik.

Alberic turned, the large sheathed sword in his arms gleaming faintly in the moonlight. His tail curled slightly as it swayed back and forth, serpentine and sinewy, and the twisted horns on his head cast long shadows over his mottled, black-scaled face. "He will come. He will have to." His voice dropped to a caressing murmur, and he stroked Mai under the chin, nibbling on the tip of one of her ears. "And then, we'll see who destiny favors."

Seik was lashed to a crossbeam above them, unconscious, her head sagging and her arms outspread. Alberic had wound her entire body in wire; the tomb--King Ranperre's Tomb--was awash in moonlight, and Alberic laughed and laughed. "It is not I who makes you suffer, Seik!" he screamed at the sky, his wings flung wide. "It is FATE! Fate is the enemy here! Adelbert, fate is what separates us, what punishes us!"

The beast paced around the tomb, occasionally perching on the beam to which Seik was lashed, curling his arms tighter around the sword. He hummed or sang; he laughed often, his eyes filled with an indescribable joy, with unbreakable resolve, with insanity, with hatred; he nuzzled Seik's face, licking it, and grinned down at Mai as if daring her to stop him; he spread his wings and soared above it all, glorying in his freedom, but always descended to earth again, snarling and glowering around him, seeking his enemy, impatient and hateful. Mai stood there as if rooted, staring at Alberic, mesmerized and repelled, unable to look away. He was beautiful in this form, beautiful and terrifying, but the curse--the obsession--the love that bound them kept her here, helpless to do anything but serve him, helpless to stop him from devouring himself with his own madness.

"What have you done, Alby...." Mai raised her eyes to Seik once again. "She's going to die...."

"No!" He whirled on her as if summoned, grasping her around the throat, stroking her like a restive kitten, purring, his wings enfolding them. "No. She will not die. Either she or you or both--you will bear my child, Mai. I might kill her. I might not. But either way, we will free when it ends. Either way, destiny will break tonight. He will come. He HAS to come. I am waiting for him.... and when he comes, I will kill him and take his place."

Seik coughed, lost in her enchanted sleep, blood trickling from her lips. Mai turned from Alberic with a choked sob. Alberic laughed, drawing his tongue up her face from her chin to the corner of her eye, where tears were already welling. "I think I love that face the most, Mai...." he whispered.

A sound from behind them, a snapping twig, made them both whirl, and Alberic crowed in delight, sweeping air with his wings. Sparhawk was there, in black armor, his implacable eyes fixed upon them.

Indestructible, part 1

Alberic had not been home for two weeks.

-----

They won't stop bleeding.

He's gone, now. I think I'm free, in a way, but it's a horrible feeling. A part of me is free that was being held back. And as I look at it, I feel more and more horrified. I'm trapped by destiny.

I know my time is shorter and shorter. Once he comes into this world, I will be gone. I saw it myself, over and over. My son. My conquerer.

That's how destiny works, isn't it? You're trapped. There's no way out, until you die. And then... and then....

I don't deserve to be delivered. I knew what I was getting into. It's many years beyond my time. But I'm so scared. I don't want to die. I'm still a coward. Death frightens me. Will I just stop? Does that mean I'll fade away and--that there will be no "me" anymore? Then, it'll be just as if there was never any "me" at all.

But no. That's why he's coming, isn't it? So there is "me" left behind.

But he's not me. He's himself. He shouldn't be saddled with my legacy. A coward's legacy. A failure's legacy. A failure of a friend, of a husband, of a father--nothing but a cursed Prophet that never should have allowed anyone near.

But I had to let them near. Because without them, I would die, and I'm scared to die. Please. I'm scared to die.

I'm trapped by destiny. It's coming closer all the time. I can hear it. I can feel it. But aren't I the guy who makes a living changing destiny? Isn't there a way I can avoid this? Isn't there some sort of thing I can do to change how things will go? Can the magician pull one more rarab out of his hat, change fate one last time?

Of course there is a way. I am a coward. I'm desperate. I'll do anything at all. I don't want to share my life anymore. I don't want to be afraid anymore.

The answer was in front of me all the time. All I have to do is change destiny. I have the right. After all, who on Vana'diel is stronger than me? And she'll be waiting for me, when it's done. She'll be happy. Because she would be fine, even if I turned into a monster, as long as I did not vanish.

I don't care who I have to kill. I don't care what I have to throw away. I won't vanish. I will not let myself die. I don't care about forgiveness anymore. If I decide he needs to die, then he will die.

-----

Seikatsu had been missing one week.

The Coward

A bright flash filled the night sky and the heavens seemed to break apart; water pouring downwards as thunder rolled off towards the distant mountains. He'd seen this place before, it was familiar, and yet so alien. Small eyes drifted upwards from all around, from cracks and fissures in the earth. There was something ominous about them, but he felt no fear. No, he felt enlightened, felt compelled to follow their gazes. Steeling himself for what he might see, he licked his lips and turned his face skyward. Large drops of water crashed against his bare forehead, mixing with the dirt and grime that had collected upon him from his travels. The mixture left a sour taste in his mouth, but he ignored it, his jaw slacked already.

For overhead was the most awe-inspiring and terrifying scene he'd ever seen. A wyvern of incomparable size loomed above him, wheeling just below the cloudline.

Frantically, the Tarutaru glanced about, looking for something; anything! to stop this menace or elude it if nothing else. Nothing offered itself up though, nothing for the sacrifice. Even the small eyes had winked shut, returning to the darkness wence they had come.
"Veovis..." a voice whispered from all around him, and at once he knew it to be the wyvern speaking.

"Wha...?" The Taru asked the darkness around him. It seemed to be closing in.

"Veovis.... you are a coward.." the thing spat, cackling as it descended downwards. The Gods seemed to answer its insult, sending several crackles of lightning followed by another peal of thunder, then the rain worsened. "You flee your past... You flee your friends..your enemies.. your world.. You have shut yourself away beyond the realm of Man, into the Canyons north of your true home.. You are a coward," the wyvern then drew back and opened its tooth-filled maw. It went on speaking, though its mouth no longer moved. "How far will you run Coward? To the ends of Vana'diel? No sea can carry you far enough from the truth."

Veovis grabbed at his over-sized ears and tugged them down, trying to drown out the horrid sound of the creature. Its voice was loud, booming from all sides, and sounded as if many voices spoke at once, a terrible cacophany of sound.

"Im.. I'm no coward.." the white mage managed to stammer, only to be answered by a snarl from the beast.

"A coward -and- a liar! You've run as far as you can..."

He closed his eyes then, as whispers of other voices crushed in around him. Dozens of them it sounded like, and try though he might he couldnt drown them out.

Words of hope, of praise, of friendship. Words cast in the world of Light; promises of love and longevity, of togetherness eternal. The very words that had lead him to this realm of despair.
"They've all abandoned you.." the beast laughed, the sound piercing through the rest of the voices, the memories, the thoughts, the hopes and dreams. "And now youre alone, because you could not help them. Because you were afraid!"

"I was afraid.." he mutely repeated the words. "I've always... been afraid.."

"You always will be." The Wyvern affirmed. "For you are a coward, and such is the cowards lot."

"Im a coward.." the meek taru quietly stated, as if admitting it to himself for the first time. How untrue that was though; he'd admitted it a thousand times over. In his months of seperation from society he'd claimed that everything had been his fault, due to his fraility and cowardice. Even when he'd found his friends again, he never allowed himself to draw too close out of his own fear of letting them down, just as he'd done to himself. He'd told them all he was to set upon a journey of self-discovery. And what a lie that had been, he had only crawled back under his rock, deep within the canyons of Tahrongi.

"You know of what I speak," there was thunder again, more rain. The hilltops were soaked, the earth sliding under his feet as the rain saturated deeper and deeper. He had to stumble to catch himself. He turned sharply to peer down towards the canyon, and to his shock he saw nothingness below him. The earth fell away to an infinite abyss. All around him was this abyss. "You know it is the truth. The truth you run from. That you are a coward. You couldnt save your parents. You couldnt help your friends. They've forgotten you by now, you know.."

"Shut up!" Veovis cried out, releasing his ears and snapping an angered gaze upwards. The beast chuckled.

"Hit a nerve, did I? It matters little.." It took to wing again, flapping up huge gusts of wind as it moved skyward. Veovis was now standing on a small island in the middle of absolute darkness. Choking darkness, darkness that clung to him and restricted his movements.

"You ran... you ran away.. and hid yourself, too. They must think you dead, they never came to seek you, did they?" It laughed again, then turned that maw back towards the healer. "But you cant run anymore.. theres nowhere left to run..."

As it spoke, the darkness swarmed in around him, thousands of hands grabbing at him, tugging him towards that inexplicable darkness. "No!" He cried, struggling as hard as he could, but to no avail. "No...!" he said, or tried to, but found his breath cut short. The very last thing he saw was that terrible maw closing down around him.

And then there was warmth. Sun beams filtered in around him through cracks in the rock, bathing his world in light. Birds quietly chirped somewhere in the distance. Some bug made a high-pitched ringing sound as it called for its mate. The wind blew gently, blowing the sweet scent of plants in bloom far to the south on the grasslands of the Sarutabaruta. He was safe, there was no wyvern, no darkness, no voices.

With a sigh, he tossed his blanket aside and stared up at the cracks, into the sunlight. He wasnt dirty as he had been when they'd first found him; he knew of a freshwater underground spring he used to bathe in, having no fear of being seen in this place of the wilds. He had lost his shame the moment he'd removed his priestly vestments. Altana was with him, or so he believed, and She always would be, but his days with the church had long since passed. The debacle that had cost him his role as Bishop had scarred him and his name deeply enough that he was shunned in nearly all churches of the land.

"This is the only place scumaru like me should be allowed to residey-widey," he muttered, cursing his native tongue at the same time. "So close to home.. yet so far.. I can even smell it," he went on, ears drooping at the thought. How he longed to be beneath the banners of Windurst again. To hear the teachings at the various schools of thought and magic. To stand proudly before the Star Sibyl, as one of her people. And how his stomach growled as he thought of the delicious Rolanberry pies the cooking guild was famous for. Chuckling despite himself, he recalled some distant memory of being a hotshot, walking into the cooking guild after a particularily difficult mission, boasting of this and that and being aptly rewarded with 'as many pies as he could carry'. When was the last time he'd even tasted pie?

Chewing idly on what was left of last nights meager stew, he kicked his small foot over the dying fire, smothering the last of its embers.

He rose quickly and started for the entrance of the cave, wrought now with the memories of his friends. Where had their journey taken them, he wondered. What would it had been like if he were brave enough to make it with them? What adventures could they have seen? All unknown forever, all for fear. Fear of failure. Of loss. Of pain. Of living.

"I pray every day that I will see you again my friends.." said the white mage softly, fingers tracing the ampulla that had been made for him by his dearest of friends, and even then the thought of her brought up a lump in his throat and caused his eyes to go a bit misty. That was perhaps the one loss that hurt him the most profoundly. Truly, he'd loved all he'd journeyed with. But he loved one above the others, one who had sealed herself forever within the chambers of his heart. One who would forever be perfect in his eyes, no matter how imperfect he may be. "I pray hardest," he continued in the same soft voice, still toying with the stones linked together by simple string, "that I will see you again Solitia..and perhaps I will...one day when i'm stronger.. but until then.."

He sighed and hung the beads back about his neck beside his phial and stepped out into the bright sunlight. It was just after midday, he figured, by the heat of the sun. Several Dhalmel idly lurched about in the distance.

"Until then.. I'm just a coward."

Summerfest Inspired

It was a blessed day, one right out of the novels that Tsiife no doubt had in her bag. That is to say the weather was warm and the sky bright on the sunny shores of Purgonorgo Isle. The day was almost spontaneous in its gathering; Once the group realized they all had new swimsuits and hadn't had a proper day at the beach it was fairly obvious what had to happen next.

The whole group of them had gathered aboard the Manaclipper for a festive day in the summer's light. As expected there was a fair amount of humor and a touch of mischief; Caen'ir's withdrawal to unclothe to his swimming trunks was met with a more forceful approach at which point he was tossed into the blue waves. Had it been any deeper the blind man might have drowned, but even his dour mood couldn't last in light of the warmth that day.

There was food prepared by each of them, readied like it was some sort of wedding ceremony. When this was brought up Seikatsu and Sparhawk only smiled and held hands, neither side admitting anything to the other.

Alberic and Mai spent a portion of the day away from the rest only to return some time later at the missus' behest. Alberic loudly declared his conquest of his lady and his sexual exploits on the sand, warning everyone to stay away from the big tree on the other side of the island, and the smooth rocks that people used to tan, and the little patch of soft grass, and the sandbar on the OTHER side of the island, and the...

Lyall and Briddy spent the day splashing about in the waves. It had been a long time since either of them properly enjoyed the ocean and it was a simple bit of friendly sweet fun for them. They, too, were mum on the details of the big day.

Caen'ir spent most of the day lounging on the beach and letting the waves creep along his ankles. He held a book to his chest and seemed lost in thought for most of it. That, or he was trying to drown out Tsiife's colorful description of the newest piece of literary prestige she had happened across.

The sun set and the couples clung together and the rest all enjoyed the beautiful view. Once it was dark enough there were fireworks set off for no real reason aside to use them and mark the occasion. In all it was a lovely day on the beach followed by a wonderful night out under the stars. And Mai didn't have to punch anyone except Alberic playfully, and it was a perfect day in Vana'diel.

With Love

"Ouch-!"

Seik brought her finger to her mouth again, sewing was so much easier than this. Lures were strange and difficult to make, and the bat fang hook on them weren't making things any more pleasant for her fingers. She looked over at a folded Heko Obi by her side on the bed, then to her other side at a box with her materials in it. The guild had said, when she could make a decent lure then they would look at her other work and see if she could advance in ranks within the guild. The small bat fangs were very sharp and hard to work with and she had nearly had one of the edges go straight through her thumb earlier when Mel had come home unexpectedly.

But to her this was all worth it. It didn't matter to her how many times she jabbed her fingers making theses things, or how many other things after these she had to make. Sparhawk had made something special for her and she wanted to show the same drive for him. To make something worthy for him, something special, something she worked hard at. Seik examined her work on the current lure, this one was better than her last one but wasn't quite right. She sighed and dropped it into a small pile by the book shelf, the lures seemed to progress in look the closer they were to the top of the pile. She fished through her material box again and started to work on the next lure.

"Put that stuff down for a while and have something to eat, Kupo. You've been at it for hours."

Mel looked over at her from the small table while setting two bowls of soup down. She seemed annoyed, normally she would only make a late afternoon lunch for herself because Seik was out of the house most of the time. Seik looked over her shoulder a moment.

"Sorry Mel, I'll be right there. Just gonna finish this last one."

She carefully finished binding the small hook to the frayed Chocobo feather pieces, then stared at her work for a long moment. This one seemed a lot better, more like the ones she had seen on the Auction House. Maybe if they saw this one they would look at the Obi she made now. She took a piece of cloth, wrapping the lure up in it carefully, and put it in her pocket, then used the mostly empty material box to pick up the pile of malformed lures. After making sure there were no stray bat fangs or hooks on the ground, she put the box near the door to take out later, then went over to the table to join Mel. Seik stared down at her food, wondering if she was going to have to make more lures later. Mel looked up, a spoon sticking out of her mouth and an irked expression on her face.

"Quit thinking about it and just eat your soup before it gets cold, Kupo."

----------------------

She finally finished wrapping the tips of some of her fingers in small bandages. The guild had promoted her and now she finally had access to the special items. Her fingers were still stinging, but she made a Cloak to turn in and was able to get the crystal she needed. Her eyes went from her fingertips to her left ring finger. It was worth it. Seik smiled to herself, the ring on her finger making her feel happy and warm. The stinging in her fingers all but seemed to disappear. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Cyclone crystal and a small ring, which several days before she thought she would never be able to get. She sat down on the floor and set the ring in front of her to make sure she had a steady surface to work with and carefully began to etch her name into its surface.

Mel had left a while ago and the house was quiet, save the sound of the fountain in the back of the room. She held up the ring, checking the carving, placing it back on the floor and making some adjustments. Would he like it? She was pretty sure the size was right, she could still feel his hands on hers, even still see them, and remember how battered they looked. Something else to think about was when she would give him this ring and where she could keep it till then.

Seik pulled a small pocket watch out of her bag and checked the time, it was getting late. She stood up and went over to one of her book shelves and began pushing some of the books aside and checking the spaces between them. Eventually she found what she was looking for which was a small, violet, pull string bag. She carefully put the ring inside it, then looked around the room for a place to put it. There was a box on the small shelf behind the curtain of the bed that would work fine. She climbed on top of the mattress and carefully put the little bag inside the box, but once it was safely inside she stopped a moment.

The bed had always been a sort of giant shelf, or a place to sit. Mel would sleep in it on occasion, but Mel was never home at night nowadays. Seik stared for a long moment at it, then out towards the center of the room where she normally slept. She had always slept on the ground, ever since she was young, but perhaps now it was time for a change. She stepped down from the mattress and began picking up the clutter that covered the sheets. There were a lot of old papers and some books which she set aside, it looked much different when it was clean. Seik pulled out the blanket she and Sparhawk usually slept under from her dresser and draped it over the bed before crawling underneath it.

It was different, but it wasn't bad. Though she wasn't quite used to the softness, it was still pleasant, and there was still plenty of room for Sparhawk. She rolled over to stare at the door, toying with the ring on her finger, her eyes getting heavy. When he got home what would he think when he saw her fingers? If he asked she would show him the ring, she didn't want to make him worry. She honestly couldn't wait to show it to him, though she was still a nervous if it was good enough or not. Seik turned her head to look up where the box was before laying it back down on the pillow, a bit of her hair falling in front of her eyes. She wondered if he would be home soon or in a few hours, but before she could wonder or worry any more, she drifted quietly off to sleep.

There was still so much to think about and do...

Sunset, Waxing 74%

The little garden had come along nicely. It had every reason to afterall; it was tended to with more than just soil and water. There was a proportionate amount of love and effort used as well. Despite the fact it had only been a short time already the first little spouts of green had peaked out of the ground on that cliff in Buburimu. Lyall had gone there every day since her passing to make sure nothing disturbed them and nothing had.

He took a moment to ponder how much things had changed since his first visit here to look for Loo. Lyall stood like a monument himself against the wavering shafts of light with his arms folded across his chest, his great axe holstered on his back and hanging at the ready. The first time he'd been here, he had just been wearing clothes.

"I... You can wear it. So you don't feel..." he offered as he blushed. Folded neatly in his hands was the stark blue of his national aketon and he was holding it out, almost like presenting the flag of his country to a worthy officer. She smiled when she took it, pulling it over her head.

He shook his head. No, that was wrong, he hadn't given it to her in Buburimu. She had taken the aketon later and he had given it to Briddy, not anyone else. This brought a shy smile to his lips; Did something in him deep down know the whole time? The entire reason he was here was because he had wanted to help her.

"This is a warrior's armor. It was given to those who were worthy of the title and I worked very hard to earn mine," she explained with a calculated patience to his questioning. She had a bit of a proud smirk as she said it, the toil of the exploration to unearth her garb playing inside of her mind.

That was right, this was where she had explained what that mysterious red armor had been. She showed him what a great axe was capable of when it knew its master. He thought she had been teasing.

"Just like everyone else! There's Lyall, the oblivious clod! Let's tease him and mock him and make fun! You're just like everyone else! I am not a fool! I am not an idiot!" He stomped his foot in defiance, turning to point with most of a fist and his eyes enraged.

That had been the gnole, and Lyall smiled to himself. He felt ashamed about it later, yelling at Briddy who had only meant well, but it had done wonders for him in the long run. He'd enrolled with Bastok as an envoy, finally becoming an adventurer like the rest of his new friends. He'd learned what he was capable in combat, and he'd learned that he just might be able to protect her afterall.

With his arms tucked into one another Lyall took another look down at the garden. It was meant for her, and he would continue to tend to it for as long as it needed him to, but there were other things he needed to tend to. This garden would survive because it had been created for Loo by the people who knew her and loved her. The seeds carried with them the hopes of them all, the only lasting gift he could offer for her wherever she was, but there were bigger things now.

If he wanted the other garden to survive, he would need to sow those seeds with patience and love, compassion and caring. The one in Buburimu would survive because it was hardy, the one waiting for him in Bastok would survive because both sides loved the other. Seikatsu had given him the advice to make sure he was doing it for the right reasons, and Lyall would make sure he was, or he wouldn't do it at all.

I know you all are tired of reading my blog entries >.>

They were finally gone, the dreams that used to bother her so much that her limbs would twitch uncontrollably as she slept and her eyes, half-open, would roll around in silver and red gleams.

Briddy found she missed them a little. Was this what it meant to be whole?

She bent her mind to becoming a good wife. It was something she had tried to be years ago, back when Malchiah had first proposed to her; she was just a girl then, but she had worked faithfully to learn the ways that she could please him. Cooking, cleaning, repairing armor, baking to the best of her ability--for a girl whose parents had owned a bakery, she wasn't half as good at baking as her brother had been, but she dutifully tried. She had learned for Malchiah, but had never really had the opportunity to use those skills until now.

It was Loo, of late, that everyone loved. Briddy realized this a while ago. Loo was the one Tsiife had lusted for so intensely; Loo was the one Lyall had fallen in love with; even Joundi was tempted by Loo's sensuality and grace. Briddy was just... Briddy. She didn't have Loo's self-possession or confidence, and certainly none of her worldliness. Briddy had never given her body to anyone knowingly. She wasn't even sure what to do with a man (or in Tsiife's case, a woman) to give them pleasure. Yet another skill she'd have to learn, she realized. Loo had managed, so maybe she would remember what to do.

Still, what surprised Briddy the most was how distant the concept of "Loo" had become in her mind. Before, there was always a discrete Other: there was Loo, and Briddy. Deeper still lurked something dark, a shadow in her dreams that was unnamed and terrifying, a cruel and forboding presence--Lurian Cree, she knew now. But now, there was just her own thoughts. And yet, it wasn't empty; the loneliness she expected, the sense of being torn that she had after Zal'deana had removed Loo, never materialized. It was almost too easy, too natural.

Was this how things were always meant to be? she wondered. Was this what someone would call destiny? Was the curse really gone for good? It seemed somehow disingenuous to scrub the worn flagstones of Lyall's Mog House, to stoke the fires and wait for his return, and somehow think: This is who I really am.

And then there was the reappearance of Velio.... Her blood ran cold for some reason whenever she saw him. He could call himself whatever name he wished, but she KNEW it was Velio.

I'm not running away anymore, Lyall.... This is what I decided for myself to do, for as long as I can.

Ooooooooooold RP posts.

All of this dates back to 2005-2006.... and was the original basis for Alby's character. Posted by request.

---------

It is well-known in Bastok that there is a man whom no one approaches, an Elvaan with strange accents with the reputation of being a madman.

His name is Alberich to most, and to some, Alberich I Tavnazia. He seems more or less civil at first, pleasant to be around, despite being even amongst adventurers a shabby and ill-dressed sort. He is Elvaan, with inky-black, unkempt hair and ice-blue eyes, and usually wears a grin or a smirk as his expression of choice; his manners are urbane and polished, as if a king in beggar rags, and his voice bears hints of his native land, one far from the stripped stone of Gustaberg. He is widely seen as harmless; he also openly, and cheerfully, admits to hearing voices in his head and doing as they say.

He claims these orders originate from the terrestrial avatar, Bahamut, King of Dragons. They are as varied as saving the life of a child in danger from a stampeding chocobo, to overthrowing the San d'Orian government via the immediate assassination of every member of the House of d'Oraguille. As such, he is welcome in Bastok, which tends to welcome even the most eccentric so long as their gil speaks for them, and though he is quite obviously insane, most Bastokans seem to think that he is harmless.

However, even such a person was somewhat surprised when he awoke one morning to find a woman in his mirror.

He had just sat up, rumpling his hair lazily and stifling an immense yawn, when he noticed his terrified (and somewhat browbeaten) Moogle cowering in the far corner. "Master!" it squeaked, pointing. "L-l-l-look--"

"Eh?" Alberich mumbled sleepily, his eyes turning to the large mirror that stood opposite his door. "Whattizit.... oh."

His eyes widened in amused disbelief; lurking in the mirror, in the reflection of his darkened rooms, was a Hume woman. Her back was to him, but he could make out her profile; she was garbed as a Red Mage, in the brilliantly red coat and plumed hat thereof, and her face was composed and pale. She was simply standing there, slowly breathing in and out, as if her existence in the mirror's image was as natural as it would have been to exist outside of it. Alberich slid out of bed, wearing only black slacks, and padded barefoot to the mirror. He reached out and gently stroked the mirror's surface. His fingers could not, of course, reach the image inside of it, so his fingers, reflected, merely passed through the shade of the woman. He felt himself grinning in delight.

"She won't speak nor respond to me, Master...." the moogle offered timidly.

Alberich smirked. "Perhaps she will me, then. Lady Mage, be welcome to my house." He bowed slightly to the mirror; the woman's head turned at the sound of his voice. His smile broadened. "So you can hear me then, my Lady?" The woman nodded once in response. "What is your name?"

Her pale pink lips moved, and he could hear her speaking in his mind. "Phio."

Alberich glanced back to his Moogle, who had not reacted to the sound, and sighed gently. Yet another voice had appeared in his head that only he could hear. He turned his eyes back to the vision in the mirror. "My name is Alberich. I am the Prophet of Bahamut." His voice was surprisingly quiet and comforting. He could only imagine that this was a unique situation. "How did you come to be in my mirror, Phio? Are you a spirit, or perhaps a hallucination?"

Phio shifted slightly, turning to look at Alberich through the glass. He could see that her eyes were flat and glazed, as if she were sleepwalking. "I have stopped," her soft voice whispered in his mind. "I am not supposed to exist any longer.... but here I am. I don't remember my life. Only my name.... everything else is like a shadow.... a dream of a dream."

Alberich considered this information, stroking his lightly stubbled chin with long Elvaan fingers. "You said.... stopped...."

The lady nodded slightly. "My body stopped."

"But your spirit remains. Therefore you are not dead." Alberich smiled and placed his palm on the mirror before her image. "You and I have been united for a purpose. And you remain alive for a purpose." His eyes narrowed, but not in anger--more in sight, as if he were looking through her. And then his voice changed, just slightly. "I can see your future, Phio. I can see that you have been blessed by a terrestrial avatar, just as I have." He grinned. "Therefore, you and I are the same."

Phio's eyebrows raised, and for the first time, she seemed moved. "We're.... the same?" A long pause, and then she asked softly. "What is in my future?"

"Resurrection, rebirth, and love," Alberich answered promptly. "Also pain, suffering, and endless sleep without dreaming. The choice is yours, of course, as to which future you will reach toward." When she did not respond, he continued in a very soft voice. "You chose to stop, apparently.... I can help you begin again, Phio. Serve me, and my Lord, and I will unite you with what begins you again. I will give you a purpose again, a Master of your own." His fingers drifted off of the smooth surface of the mirror. "I will give you a reason to want to keep your heart beating, your lungs breathing. If you swear fealty to me."

She hesitated, but then finally nodded, and knelt before him, bending her head to him. "I have no life anymore other than this shadow in the mirror.... You are the only one who can hear my voice.... Giving you my fealty means little to me, so I have nothing to lose right? I swear to serve you in whatever way you require, until you no longer have need of me."

Alberich nodded lightly, grinning, then bent to the mirror, pressing his forehead against the glass. "And in return, I will do my best to bring you full life again." And then he whispered, his lips right by the reflection of her ear. "He's still out there, Phio. He's still alive." Her eyes widened slowly, and for the first time, some life returned to them.

And then the Prophet of Bahamut turned away, yanking a tunic over his head, and stalked purposefully from the room. "I have a LOT of work to do today...." he grinned to himself under his breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alberich stepped into the Grand Duchy of Jeuno sometime in the dead of night, with the hood of his tunic up to conceal his face. They had no love for wyrm-worshippers here, especially not the particular contact he had in mind. He glanced down at the slip of parchment on which he'd scribbled the girl's address and headed to the Residential Area first, striding purposefully down the long rows of doors until he came to the one he needed. There was dust on the doorstep and naturally, it was locked. The Elvaan braced himself against the back wall and casually kicked the door in with an explosive jar of his foot.

"KuPO!" the alarmed Moogle inside squealed, but Alberich paid him no mind, stepping into the musty Mog House and looking around carelessly. He found precisely what he expected to find--the girl lying in a heap on the floor, looking as if she hadn't been touched in months. He bent to her and turned her over, looking down into the pale face, and extended his hand over her mouth and nose. He felt no breath.

"And yet she lives....?" he mumbled to himself, then looked up at the Moogle almost accusingly. "You left your mistress like this for this long?!"

The Moogle spread its tiny paws defensively. "I--I was afraid to move her!"

"And you didn't tell her family?!" Alberich continued, his voice rising in disbelief.

"She has none! There was an Elvaan, but he stopped coming 'round ages ago--"

"Elvaan?" Alberich picked Phio up carefully in his arms and moved to lie her on the unmade bed, removing her hat and placing it tenderly on the bedpost. On the bedside table, there was a Summerfest moogle drawing of an Elvaan face. He picked it up, smoothing out the creases--apparently it had been rescued from the trash somewhere and lovingly framed. He grins, looking at the picture. "Of course, he would be a redhead." He let the portrait tumble to the ground, leaning back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Redhead Samurai.... the East.... damn."

Bending to her body, he smoothed Phio's hair back from her sheet-white face and whispered softly, "I bet sex with you would be incredible for me. Pity it's not going to be like that for us. Until then, sweetie, sleep well. Your knight will be here soon enough."

--

Alberich leaned back against a wall and pretended not to hear footsteps around the corner; he sensed rather than heard someone leaning against the same wall, just out of sight, their heavy exhaling breath announcing their presence unnecessarily. He grinned. "Glad to see you decided to come. Not often -I- need something from -you- is it Naggy?"

The unseen figure made a most indelicate sound. "What the hell do you want, dragon-fucker? I'm not in the mood to deal with you."

"Easy, easy," Alberich protested in a mock-injured tone. "Did the Duke Vicarious throw you out again, sir? I need information."

"Yes, yes, on some Red Mage? Not much to know about her. Windurstan, did some errands for the duchy on the command of her nation. Skilled, but never rose to a high rank. Mucked around too much with trash, if you get my meaning. No ambition. Disappeared a few months ago, her Moogle said she was still alive but passed out, so not the duchy's problem. Nobody's complained about a smell in the Res area, so we haven't bothered to look for a body yet."

Alberich stroked his chin absently. "Married?"

"Ran around with some Samurai I think. Bad rumors about him though, I think he ditched her. Who cares about the private lives of some adventurer though? All they do is screw and go out and get themselves killed, after all. No permanence or wherewithal."

"Do you have a name for me?"

"'Kincade' I was told." The contact's voice was impatient. "Who gives a shit though?"

Alberich heaved an overdramatic sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. "Naggy, darling. Use your BRAIN, if you still have one. The spirit of this Red Mage is right now crashing in my MIRROR back in Bastok." Dead silence for a moment, then Alberich continued in the same tone. "And it's tied to this Kincade person, a Samurai? At the same time that my own Master is on the move? You must be dead if you don't see that this is the work of--"

"Don't say the name." 'Naggy' warned in a low voice. "Don't say it."

"--Phoenix," Alberich continued doggedly. "Phoenix is on the move, too. The Radiance of the East, at long last. The time of the gods is returning to Vana'diel." He felt himself grinning again, his heart racing. "Promathia stirs in his grave. Al'Taieu shudders and breathes again. The seas in the west and north are boiling; the holy places resonate with their power. The Mithran Sin Hunters scour Vana'diel. The Emptiness lurks. Our curse, our sin.... and now, at last, two of THEM are moving to strike. Bahamut and Phoenix.... I know the Duchy is aware of this, I know you went to the Monarch Linn to speak with Him."

The silence fell again, stretching long. Finally, the contact responds in a low voice, "Damn you and your witchcraft. Yes, I did. I invoked the Pact."

Alberich waved away the "compliment" with his long-fingered hand. "Draw me up an official death notice. Let's see if I can't find a proper.... messenger to send." He smirked. "Who am I--or any of us--to resist the beckonings of Fate? Or in this case.... The coercions?"

--

A Moogle was waiting nervously for Kincade, hovering above his bed, softly shining with the omnipresent power that the strange beings seemed to present. He seemed browbeaten and terrified of the drunk Samurai as he stumbled into the room, and proferrs the official notice from the Grand Duchy with shaking paws. "F-f-f-f-for you s-s-sir...." he stammered, then promptly disappeared as soon as it was taken.... or if not taken, he drops it on Kincade's foot and vanishes.

On official Duchy parchment, under the seal of the Archduke Vicarious, it reads:

"The Grand Duchy of Jeuno hereby recognizes the expiration of the adventurer known as Phio Piccolo of Windurst this Watersday of N Month, Halfmoon, CE 4623. Notarized by Nag'lomada under the authority of the Archduke Vicarious." Then, in scrawled handwritting underneath, the notation: "Stopped. Found in quarters."

--

The landing airship was greeted by a large company of Ducal Guards, headed by Wolfgang. There were also two figures in black hoods standing at the back, their hoods marked with the emblem of the Society, the Jeunoan "scientists." Wolfgang stepped forward to the airship ramp, blocking the way with his armored bulk, clutching a scroll in his fist. "Which one of you is Kincade Vouxineu?" he demanded in his deep, coarse voice, his black eyes flickering from face to face. But then, only one really matched the description he was given. His eyes landed on the redhead Elvaan and he snapped the scroll open with a jerk of his gauntleted wrist. "You are hereby summoned to the Ducal Palace. You're not under the liberty to refuse." He raised his gaze to take in Kincade's companions. "The presence of others will not be required," he added blandly.

If the others protested, he raised a hand to silence them, his Ducal Guards arranged behind him. "This is a peaceful summons, for the moment, but I have been authorized to use force if necessary." Wolfgang raised an eyebrow at Kincade. "It seems your presence is being requested at the highest level."

The Guards fell in around Kincade, separating him from the group, and they stalked up the winding stone steps of the tiered city to the highest floor, the lofty, marble area called Ru'Lude. The name and the design were said to be an homage to a loftier place; the layout was in the emblem of the gods, it was rumored, and the Archduke's Palace sat at the most auspicious position. The Guards brought Kincade into the Palace and into a large greeting room, richly appointed. There, perhaps surprisingly, they left him, the two black-robed figures remaining with him and Wolfgang retreating to just outside the door.

The first, smaller figure lowered his hood. He was a fiercely blond Hume, with a strange eye apparatus, and his eyes were sharp and cunning. "I am Nag'lomada," he said curtly by way of greeting. "I am a representative of the Duke Vicarious, who will be informed of all that is said here. He--" He jerked his head to the other hooded figure. "--is Alberich." He smirked slightly. "A scoundrel and madman, but who has his uses."

"Oh Naggy, you flatter me," came an amused retort from inside the hood. His voice was lilted strangely in an accent that most would not recognize. It sounded vaguely foreign.

"Let's not beat around the bush, Kincade," Nag'molada said curtly. "We wouldn't have summoned you otherwise. We have a stopped adventurer on our hands. Her body is still alive, but barely. And ALBERICH here says her ghost is inside his mirror. Apparently, this has something to do with you." Nag'molada leaned forward slightly, studying Kincade's face as if taking in each subtle eyeflick and change of expression from here on out. "Be very careful as to what you say. If this girl's death is your fault--"

"Now, now...." Alberich said soothingly. "The girl isn't dead. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation." But his eyes, too, were fixed intently on Kincade, and his large hands are clamped down tightly on the arms of his chair. However, where Nag'lomada looked intimidating and angry, Alberich's blue eyes glowed with a different emotion from the depths of his hood--excitement. This, to him, is clearly thrilling.

"Tell me, sir...." Alberich said, and here his voice almost thrummed, "... have you heard of Phoenix?"

--

((more old stuff..... this was my first attempt at an Alby!backstory, as y'all can see I revised it some))

I believe this is my 15th attempt at keeping a journal. I'm not very good at remembering to update them, or I lose them, or my Moogle puts them someplace where I can't find them, yadda yadda. But here goes. Attempt number 15. I promise not to do anything too crazy, like update it while Seeing, or while drunk, or while otherwise inebriated.

I guess I should start by introducing myself. I am Alberich I Tavnazia, the nephew of Altedour I Tavnazia, Archduke of the Grand Marquisate of Tavnazia and its surrounds. I am the sole heir to that title, such as it is, since right now dragons roost in the Marquisate proper and Fomors roam our lands by night. Sometimes I think their faces look familiar, when I see them from a distance.

I was only six when my uncle, my parents, and my little sister died. It's the stuff of legend now, how my uncle was found at the bottom of a pile of beastman bodies so high and so wide, yadda yadda. Yeah, he was badass, always was. I admired the man, though I don't remember him all that well. He was always kind, as was Mildaurion. Cardinal Mildaurion, I should say, leader of the Tavnazian Cathedral to the Most Brilliant and Divine Dawn Goddess Altana. I don't remember much about her either, only that she was sainted, and beautiful. She had such gentle hands, but they were always cold, and tingled a little when I touched them. She was a Hume woman with white-blonde hair. My uncle treated her as if she were made of porcelain. She knew things.

My parents didn't make it out. My little sister went down first, when the Marquisate went down and the beastmen came pouring in. Her hand slipped from my mother's, and she turned, and then they were both just gone. My father went after them, but I could see on his face that he already knew. He had to know they were dead before he too died. I used to think, "Please, Goddess, never let me have to outlive my most precious person." More proof that the gods don't give ten damns about this Vana'diel they made, least of all Altana.

I didn't start to see the future til I was 12 or 13. At first it was just weird dreams, weird little flashes in my mind when I would look at someone. I brushed it off for the most part. I talked to Prishe about it and she said I was probably a bit touched in the head, then she laughed and said that all of us survivors were. Mildaurion was gone by then, so it was just me, Prishe, and Despechiaire looking after everyone. Times were tougher back then, we were huddled about fifty or sixty of us in a glorified cave. We barely had enough to eat, we couldn't go outside for fear of monsters. Only Prishe could really fight them. Everyone else was either too young, or too old. Funny how only the old and the children survived the Great War, at least on our cursed islands.

I grew up but damn, I was a brat. I had weird stuff going on in my head, though I hadn't heard voices yet, and I was angry. I hated everything. I hated having to live in a damned hole like a rat. The elders weren't too fond of me either. I wasn't noble or regal or well-mannered like my uncle had been. I was just an angry kid with an axe to grind against the world. I was too much like Prishe, I guess. She and I weren't really close, but I looked up to her all the same. She wouldn't have let anyone fall behind if she could've helped it. She was the only reason any of us were alive to begin with. Life is a gift, though most people (including me at that time) are too stupid to realize it.

I'm obviously not the only person in Vana'diel that can see things, but we all have our different techniques and methods. The Windurstan Star Sibyl, for instance, reads the future from the stars. She gets this power from Fenrir, who is the true Seer among the terrestrial avatars. Hence why Bahamut looks for mortal avatars to use, so he can do the same; he began to look for a human vessel shortly after the War, because Fenrir's powers were waning badly. What he found was some Elvaan punk who'd picked a fight he shouldn't have, a kid barely reaching adulthood, bleeding out his life all over the ground on some godforsaken cliff. He says I'm the strongest Seer he's ever had, though he's only had Kuluu before, and everyone knows how worthless the Kuluu were. (What's with the lanterns?)

I'm no head doctor. All I know is that the future and the past came together at that moment, and the punk kid ceased to be. I lost about, oh, five years of my life then. Don't remember where I was or what I was up to. Just know that when I came out of it, I belonged to Bahamut, body, mind, and soul. I had a big tattoo on my back sealing my powers, and that's when I learned to See properly. I don't even know WHAT I am now, whether monster or man, madman or prophet, angel or demon. I just am. I hear voices. Bahamut's voice. My mother's voice. My father's voice. My sister's voice. And my uncle's voice. Those guys never say anything different though, just the same things.

Now I hear Yuniko's voice, too. She asks me why I didn't save her. She asks me what damned good are powers that you can't use to protect the ones you love. I'd like to know that, too. But like I said before. Life is a gift. Whether you want it or not, there's only so long you can surrender before you find something worth fighting for again. A tiny shred of hope, greater than your own life, a hope for something better, for a tiny piece of happiness, no matter how momentary.

Here's where my... colleagues and I differ. They say that the future is one. That all that has ever been, is now, or ever will be was foreordained long ago. Written there in the stars, in stone, that this will happen, that will happen. I say that's chocobo doodoo. There is no one future. Else I could just See once, write it all down, seal it up and put it in some fountain underneath a city, and I'd be praised forever as some sort of awesome person. (See! I'm making a Windurst joke! I'm so clever!) But it doesn't work that way. Fate is something that surrounds us, that traps us, that encompasses us and holds us in its palm. But how fate is realized is dependent only on our decisions. That's why I can bear the blame for Yuniko's death. I wasn't strong enough to save her. It wasn't fate, or destiny, or the one future that killed her. It was me, for not being able to make the choices that would lead to her being able to live.

I wonder if I'll hear Kieliana's voice in my head too, someday?

Stupid journals.