letter to Alby

Alby,

It seems lately, my interactions with you end with you stalking off somewhere in a hurumph. You're right though, I don't understand, but how can I when you never give me the chance to try? You're my best friend, despite our shaky start, and I -do- love you. Please come and talk with me?

Your's with all fondness,
Kohra

*delivered by the standard mog mail to his res in bastok*

Wish Lists

It's that time again guys! Let's keep a running wish list of things we need help with.

Alberic:
Rostrum Pumps
Reverand Mail
Assault Rankups

Kohra:
AF for Samurai (including helmet BC fight)
Soboro Sukehiro
Parade Gorget
Uggly Pendant
Scirocco Kukri

Kermadec:
Scirocco Kukri
Soboro Sukehiro
Breaking Heart Snatcher/Dissector

Caenir:
Uggalepih Pendant
CoP
Windurst Mission 9-2
Rostrum Pumps

Ikari:
Bomb Queen Ring
Joyeuse
Bloodbead Ring
Soboro
Rapparee Harness

Lyall:
Promyvions/CoP
sky (finish ZMs)
Optical Hat
Utsusemi: Ni
Alky Gloves

Rampagesama:
WSNM for Spiral Hell
WSNM for Ground Strike
Ashu Talif Fights for Star Sapphires

Seikatsu:
AN Slivers
Apocalypse Nigh
ToAU42 and 44

Joundi:
Rank missions
Limit break missions
PLD AF (when PLD gets to that level)


If you can think of anything else, let me know!

~Soli~

Welcome Home Alby!!

May be several hours early, but I wanted to post the picture ya asked for. Happy home comings Alby, we missed you a ton!
-= Seik =-

So I heard you like chatlogs?

At the Crag of Holla. Anatole = Kohra, Claire = Alby, others should be obvious.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:37 PM):
*wanders around the crag, randomly killing orcs he spies*
   Claire says (6:38 PM):
*Alby emerges from the telepoint, cradling something protectively in his arms, and looks around all surreptitious-like before diving down underneath the crag, giggling to himself*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:39 PM):
*bumps into alby as he jumps down* ack!
   Caen'ir says (6:39 PM):
*turns his head at the sound of the giggling, extremely confused* Um...hello?
   Claire says (6:39 PM):
Hey! WATCH it! *He says with some asperity, lurching forward*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:40 PM):
YOU jumped on MY head!! *frowns*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:41 PM):
*looks at what alby is holding* what's that?
   Claire says (6:41 PM):
I didn't jump on anyone's head, THANK you very much! *He loftily informs Kohra* Maybe if you didn't have such a very POINTY noggin, you wouldn't find people wanting to sit on it.
   Caen'ir says (6:42 PM):
Um... *listening to the argument below, seems unsure of whether or not he should interrupt*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:42 PM):
*grins broadly at alby*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:43 PM):
**he rummages around in his pack, pulling out his O-hat and putting it on* how's this?
   Claire says (6:43 PM):
Oh, this? *He hides the wrapped parcel behind his back quickly* It's... a FIGMENT of your imagination. Wooooo~ *He makes a "mysterious noise" with his mouth*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:44 PM):
*crosses his arms in front of his chest* uh huh... -that's- believable
   Mai Ikari says (6:44 PM):
*teleports in, and takes a look around, waving to Caenir, then noticing Alby and jumping down towards him* Alby!
   Caen'ir says (6:45 PM):
Um....hello, Mai? *mostly to himself at this point, seeing as he's extremely confused as to what's going on*
   Claire says (6:45 PM):
*He helpfully shifts the parcel to one hand, catching and swinging Mai around into him with his other arm* Well what do you know, it's raining hot chicks!
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:46 PM):
*steps back out of the way* jeeze!
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:46 PM):
*calls up to caenir* if you jump i'm not catching you!!
   Claire says (6:46 PM):
Don't hate, just because I caught myself a hot chick.
   Caen'ir says (6:47 PM):
...alright? *seems to have no intention of jumping*
   Mai Ikari says (6:47 PM):
*clinging to Alby* So where have you been? And what's this thing? *pokes at the imaginary parcel*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:47 PM):
*cranes his neck around, trying to look behind Alby's back at the parcel*
   Claire says (6:48 PM):
*He promptly re-hides the parcel behind his back* What thing? I don't see any "thing" here. Just... a figment of your imagination! Woooo~ *mysterious noise*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (6:48 PM):
*heads up the path away from Jugner Forest and towards the crag, arms folded behind her head and staring up at the sky in thought*
   Caen'ir says (6:48 PM):
What are you talking about, Alberic? *he sounds even more confused, wondering what shenanigans are occurring down below*
   Mai Ikari says (6:49 PM):
*laughs* Well, if you say so. *to Caenir* And we're just talking about this thing behind Alby's back that doesn't actually exist.
   Claire says (6:49 PM):
I'm not talking about... anything! Just a figment of your imagination! Woooo~
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:49 PM):
*tries to step behind Alby's back*
   Caen'ir says (6:50 PM):
So...we're discussing something behind Alberic's back that doesn't really exist and is just a figment of our imaginations? *seems half-tempted to continue and add the "Whooo~" to the end*
   Claire says (6:50 PM):
*He turns around, Mai in his arms, so that he's always facing Kohra* .... Quit trying to stare at my ass, Kohra. I will NOT let you stick it in.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:51 PM):
*puts his hands on his hips and mock-pouts* but i want to!!
   Claire says (6:51 PM):
I'm married, Kohra! *He says loudly* I like vagoo, what can I say? Peen up the butt isn't my thing.
   Mai Ikari says (6:51 PM):
*looks over to Kohra* Didn't we already cover this in Sandy? If anybody's gonna put it in Alby, it'll be me with a dildo. And he's not interested anyway.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:52 PM):
how do you know if you haven't tried it? *tries to sidestep again behind Alby*
   Caen'ir says (6:52 PM):
U-um.... *seems to decide this is not a part of the conversation he wants to take part in, steers clear of it*
   Claire says (6:53 PM):
*He keeps turning with Kohra, his expression long-suffering*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:54 PM):
*steps forward, attempting to grab alby in a bearhug*
   Mai Ikari says (6:55 PM):
*is in the way of a bearhug, does not want to be part of a bearhug, and shoves out with one hand towards Kohra*
   Claire says (6:55 PM):
*He puts down Mai to keep Kohra away, then turns away, stroking the parcel with a giggle*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:55 PM):
*gets shoved in the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs*
   Caen'ir says (6:56 PM):
Um....so, uh, Alberic....what are we "imagining"?
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (6:56 PM):
*pauses in front of the crag area after spotting the others, letting one arm drop to her side and waving with the other* Hi guys.
   Caen'ir says (6:56 PM):
*in Seik's general direction* Hello, Seik.
   Claire says (6:57 PM):
Seik! *He bounds over to her and scoops her up in a hug, juggling the parcel too*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:57 PM):
*tries to get a better look at what Alby has* hi seik. *distractedly*
   Caen'ir says (6:57 PM):
*gets up and walks down the stairs, down towards where all the ruckus is, instead of bounding down like the previous couple people*
   Mai Ikari says (6:58 PM):
*moves between any attempt Kohra makes to get close to Alby or look at the package, grinning somewhat*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (6:58 PM):
*seems a little surprised but smiles, hugging back* Hi Alberic, how have you been?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (6:59 PM):
*tries to scowl at Mai but ends up grinning instead*
   Claire says (6:59 PM):
Peachy-keen, cutiepie. Hmmm, I'm hungry now. How're you and your man-friend? *He ruffles Seik's hair*
   Mai Ikari says (7:00 PM):
*grins wider, and adopts a wide stance like a sumo wrestler* If he says it's your imagination, it's -clearly- your imagination. So stop trying to get up his butt!
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:01 PM):
*rummages around in his pack and pulls out a catnips mouse,. dangling it in front of mai for a minute, he then tosses it off to the side, away from alby*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (7:02 PM):
I haven't seen him for a few days. But I think he is okay. *shakes he head slightly at having her hair ruffled*
   Mai Ikari says (7:02 PM):
*wide eyes, ears and tail twitching, trying very hard to resist the catnip*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:03 PM):
*pulls out another one, and tosses it over with the other*
   Claire says (7:03 PM):
*He goes over to the catnip mouse then stuffs it into his pants, then catches the second one and does the same*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:03 PM):
*bursts out laughing*
   Caen'ir says (7:03 PM):
*approaching the group, shaking his head, an amused smile playing on his face*
   Mai Ikari says (7:04 PM):
*immediately goes for the catnip in Alby's pants*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:04 PM):
*takes the opportunity to get closer to alby's "package"*
   Claire says (7:06 PM):
*He smirks as his wife basically starts nosing at his crotch in front of everyone, and dodges Kohra's attempt to grab his... parcel* Quit it, Kohra.
   Caen'ir says (7:07 PM):
*listening curiously to the sounds of what's going on, still a bit confused at what, specifically, is going on*
   Mai Ikari says (7:07 PM):
*pulls both mice out of Alby's pants, pokes once at his pants, then starts chewing on the mice*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:09 PM):
Quit what? *teasingly* you're clearly imagining things Alby.
   Claire says (7:09 PM):
Awww.... *He sounds disappointed when Mai takes the mice out of his pants* And clearly I'm not imagining you getting all up ins my personal space, Kohra.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:10 PM):
*takes a huge step forward* like this?
   Caen'ir says (7:10 PM):
Um...Seik? What's going on, right now?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:10 PM):
Alby has an imaginary package! *he says very loudly*
   Mai Ikari says (7:11 PM):
*thinks while chewing, puts one mouse back in Alby's pants, holding the other in her mouth, and gets between Alby and Kohra again*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (7:11 PM):
*one ear droops out of confusion* I just got here Caenir. I really have no idea.
   Caen'ir says (7:12 PM):
So...it's akin to the usual, then.
   Claire says (7:12 PM):
Oh Maaaai~ *He purrs at her back* I've got catnip in my crotch. Here, kitty kitty.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:13 PM):
*nods* yes, no one can see it! *grinning at alby*
   Caen'ir says (7:13 PM):
*puts a hand to his head, shaking it*
   Claire says (7:15 PM):
*He starts dancing, grinding his crotch at Mai, doing little hip-thrusts, holding his parcel up over his head*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:15 PM):
*sits down, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands and watches the show*
   Mai Ikari says (7:15 PM):
Mut if I go afer fat one, Kora will fe in fa way afain. *talking with mouth full*
   Mai Ikari says (7:16 PM):
*though paying very close attention*
   Claire says (7:17 PM):
*He pulls down his pants to the point where the mouse's tail is visible over his waistband, still grooving* Ooh baby, ooh baby~ *singing*
   Caen'ir says (7:19 PM):
*opens his mouth as if to ask, but just as quickly closes it once more*
   Mai Ikari says (7:20 PM):
*mouse drops to the floor, stares for a moment, then dives at him*
   Claire says (7:21 PM):
*He laughs and pets Mai's head, letting her retrieve the mouse* You're adorable. I'd say let's go home and fuck, but there's kids around.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:22 PM):
*mock-shock* you have kids?
   Claire says (7:22 PM):
Not yet, Kohra.
   Caen'ir says (7:22 PM):
*doesn't bother arguing he's not a kid to Alberic, having already given up that argument*
   Mai Ikari says (7:22 PM):
Mut you fad it anyway. *nods, chewing on the mouse only half-removed from his pants*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:23 PM):
YET?! you can't seriously be thinking of being a father?
   Claire says (7:23 PM):
*He gives Kohra a mildly perplexed look* My dear Kohra, for one thing, why shouldn't I be a father? I'd be like... the coolest dad on the block.
   Caen'ir says (7:23 PM):
Alberic would be a fine father, I'm sure. A bit...odd, but still.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:23 PM):
*looks horror-stricken*
   Mai Ikari says (7:24 PM):
*is not looking in Kohra's direction or there would be punching*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:24 PM):
*opens his mouth to say something, then promptly changes his mind*
   Claire says (7:24 PM):
And secondly, unless the future changes again, Mai's not getting pregnant til right before I shuffle off this mortal coil anywho. *He pats Mai absently on the head* So whomever her next beau will be will get to do all the responsible parenting.
   Mai Ikari says (7:25 PM):
*ears droop for a moment, but perk back up at the petting*
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (7:26 PM):
*goes to sit down on the crag steps, looking up for a moment at the parcel Alby is holding*
   Claire says (7:27 PM):
*He tilts his head to the side, looking almost sad for a moment--not at what he said, but at everyone's reactions, his gaze lingering longest on Kohra. Then he detaches the mouse from his pants, poking it into Mai's mouth, and strolls off*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:28 PM):
ok...so seriously. what's the thing? *points to the burlap-wrapped package in alby's hand*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:28 PM):
*gets up, trotting over to Alby* what's wrong Alby?
   Caen'ir says (7:29 PM):
*seems confused* What's going on?
   Claire says (7:29 PM):
*He doesn't answer Kohra, already halfway to the Jugner zone*
   Mai Ikari says (7:30 PM):
*chases after Alby, not showing much sign of reaction*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:31 PM):
*reaches for alby's "non-package" arm*
   Caen'ir says (7:31 PM):
*follows the sounds of footsteps as best he can, unsure of the situation*
   Claire says (7:32 PM):
*He shies away from either Mai or Kohra touching him*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:33 PM):
*out of breath* Alby! what's going on with you?
   Claire says (7:33 PM):
*He stops, looking back at Kohra, his expression difficult to read--perhaps angry, perhaps just lonely*
   Mai Ikari says (7:34 PM):
*follows close beside Alby, keeping just enough distance so he doesn't shy away again*
   Caen'ir says (7:34 PM):
*has a bit of trouble keeping up, but tries his best not to fall too far behind the sound of Mai's footfalls*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:34 PM):
*stops, trying to catch his breath and looking up at Alby perplexed*
   Claire says (7:35 PM):
What, does it blow your mind when you're a dick to someone and they actually do something about it, Kohra? *His tone is more pitying than angry*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:35 PM):
why...are you... always...running away...for me? *huffs*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:36 PM):
what... are you...talking about?
   Claire says (7:36 PM):
Gee, let's think. *He puts on a mock-pensive expression, humming the Jeopardy! theme* Could it be.... that you were a dick to me?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:37 PM):
*looks up, confused*
   Claire says (7:38 PM):
Wow, you really DON'T get it. Let me spell it out for you. W-H-A-T Y-O-U S-A-I-D W-A-S R-E-A-L-L-Y F-U-C-K-I-N-G R-U-D-E. *He sketches out the letters in the air*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:38 PM):
when?!
   Claire says (7:38 PM):
And unlike Caenir, I don't take it when you get like that.
   Claire says (7:39 PM):
*He gives Kohra an angrily withering look* When did I leave?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:39 PM):
about being a father? come on alby, you're as much in line to be a good father as i am!
   Mai Ikari says (7:40 PM):
*glares at Kohra, and hugs Alby*
   Claire says (7:40 PM):
*He smirks a moment--then rears back and spits in Kohra's face, before turning and walking off again*
   Caen'ir says (7:40 PM):
Alberic may be eccentric at times, but he'd make a wonderful father. *his voice holds a slight note of anger*
   Mai Ikari says (7:41 PM):
*follows again*
   Caen'ir says (7:42 PM):
*hearing footsteps going away once more, turns to the general direction of Kohra's voice and addresses him calmly* Kohra.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:42 PM):
*stares off blankly for a moment, then shouts, wiping the spit off his face* i can just see you both getting parent of the year. Miss punch -a-lot teaching her kid to...punch things and you teaching them how to talk to furniture!! *turns around and storms off*
   Claire says (7:43 PM):
*He flips off Kohra over his shoulder and keeps walking*
   Caen'ir says (7:43 PM):
*quickly follows after Kohra, trying to catch up to him, trusting Mai to comfort Alby*
   Mai Ikari says (7:43 PM):
Don't listen to him Alby.... *one fist clenched*
   Caen'ir says (7:44 PM):
Kohra! *moving as quickly as he can to keep up with his footsteps, risks a grab at where he /hopes/ Kohra's arm is*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:45 PM):
*allows his arm to be grabbed, but keeps walking*
   Caen'ir says (7:45 PM):
*tries to pull Kohra to a stop, succeeding only in being dragged along* Stop it!
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:45 PM):
*whirls on Caenir, accidentally knocking him over* STOP WHAT CAENIR?!
   Claire says (7:46 PM):
*He stops, tilting his head, then looks at Mai* Go help Caenir. *It's not a request, it's clearly an order*
   Caen'ir says (7:46 PM):
*knocked over, he maintains a look of suprise for a moment before scrambling up uncerimoniously, looking rather angry* Stop what? Stop WHAT?! Stop being a jackass to my friends!
   Mai Ikari says (7:47 PM):
Uh... *nods, lowering her head* Okay.
   Caen'ir says (7:47 PM):
Who the HELL tells someone they'd make a horrible parent like that?! Alberic may be odd at times, but he'd make a DAMN fine father! *he pokes at where he believes Kohra's chest to be*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:47 PM):
if he can't handle the truth, that's his problem.
   Caen'ir says (7:47 PM):
The truth? The truth is that you're even more blind than /I/ am if you can't see Alberic would be a fine parent!
   Caen'ir says (7:48 PM):
Eccentricities don't equate to parenting skills, I /know/ Alberic would do anything in his power to keep any child of his safe.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:48 PM):
caenir, he has a dragon taking over his mind. how long before bahamut decides to roast his kid for fun?
   Caen'ir says (7:49 PM):
I somehow doubt that Bahamut would do that. *he's speaking with a strained tone, as though he's patiently explaining something to a child*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:49 PM):
uh-huh, yeah, /that's/ believable.
   Caen'ir says (7:50 PM):
If Bahamut killed his child, it would be problematic for HIM. He would not do that.
   Mai Ikari says (7:50 PM):
LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU! *covering her ears with her hands, then drops them* Am I right, Kohra?
   Claire says (7:50 PM):
*Alberic heads into Jugner, letting everyone else fight it out*
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:51 PM):
*looks up at mai* oh, come back to punch me for good measure? well, here i am, get it over with then fuck off.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:52 PM):
*stands with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot*
   Caen'ir says (7:52 PM):
*gritting his teeth slightly* Kohra. I told you to stop it already.
   Mai Ikari says (7:52 PM):
No, I came back because Alby said to. If I punch you, you'll get off to it.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:53 PM):
fine. you two done? *turns to leave*
   Caen'ir says (7:53 PM):
Are you going to leave my friends be?
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (7:54 PM):
you're the one that stopped me caen'ir, i have nothing more to say. *calls over his shoulder while walking towards the chocobo rentals*
   Caen'ir says (7:55 PM):
Nnn... *putting a hand to his head, seems to be developing a slight headache* Is Alberic okay, Mai?
   Mai Ikari says (7:56 PM):
I think so... Thanks for trying to knock some sense into him.
   Caen'ir says (7:57 PM):
I didn't. I was trying to talk some sense into him. It seems that I lost my temper, though....sorry.
   mister_anatole_x@yahoo.ca says (8:01 PM):
*rents a chocobo and makes for ronfaure*
   Mai Ikari says (8:01 PM):
Didn't really sound like it.
   Caen'ir says (8:02 PM):
Well, I did...
   whmseik@yahoo.com says (8:02 PM):
*Seik is still sitting back at the crag, tapping her heels on a lower step and staring off into space, though she watches for a moment as Kohra runs past*
   Mai Ikari says (8:03 PM):
All I heard was you saying perfectly reasonable things, and Kohra sticking his fingers in his ears and yelling LA LA LA, I CAN'T HEAR YOU.
   Caen'ir says (8:04 PM):
I guess...
   Mai Ikari says (8:06 PM):
*pokes at Caenir* What happened to that earlier enthusiasm? Was kinda nice to hear you talking like you really cared.
   Caen'ir says (8:07 PM):
*squirms away from the poke* W-well, he was being a jerk to Alberic when Alberic didn't deserve that treatment at all...he didn't seem to understand that, so I figured I should set him straight on the matter.
   Mai Ikari says (8:10 PM):
It's like arguing with a cermet wall, I know. Again, thanks for trying, did a better job than I could.
   Caen'ir says (8:11 PM):
It was no problem...just sorry I didn't seem to get through to him. *sounds apologetic*
   Mai Ikari says (8:12 PM):
*shrugs* Like I said, cermet wall. I can't get through to him, Alby can't get through to him, -you- can't get through to him, doubt anybody actually can.
   Mai Ikari says (8:12 PM):
Besides maybe Kreoss, but that doesn't seem likely to happen.
   Caen'ir says (8:13 PM):
Well...maybe we just need to try some more?
   Mai Ikari says (8:14 PM):
Maybe. Throw something at the wall enough times and maybe it'll stick.
   Caen'ir says (8:16 PM):
I...guess that's /one/ way of putting it.
   Mai Ikari says (8:19 PM):
*glances back at Jugner, looking worried*
   Caen'ir says (8:19 PM):
I guess there's no point in staying here, now...
   Caen'ir says (8:19 PM):
I'm going to go back to the crag, Mai.
   Mai Ikari says (8:20 PM):
I'lll... go looking for Alby again. See ya Cae.
   Caen'ir says (8:21 PM):
Seeya later, Mai. *heads off in the general direction of the crag, once more*




I think I got all of the OOC and major spelling errors out of there.

~Mai~

Finding Emptiness.

Kohra sat at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the vast grasslands of East Sarutabaruta during the time of the Crystal Wars. He had come here, despite his long-time stance of non-interference, in the hopes of finding some deeper meaning, some understanding. Yet all he felt was empty and hollow. He had not found the answers he had expected to find here. And worse, he had inadvertently risked his tenuous friendship with Caen'ir. He sighed and rested his head on his knees, hugging his legs in an all too familiar hunch. His armour dug into his cheek sharply, but he paid it no mind.

Upon entering through the Maw in East Sarutabaruta, he had felt surreal, and out of place. He had talked Caen'ir into bringing him back, to show him where he had found Kre'oss. The city had left him feeling just the same. Kohra had expected a tale of love, that Kre'oss' connection to Caen'ir in the future is what had brought him back to the present. How foolish he had been. Of course the Kre'oss of these times had no feelings for Caen'ir, how could he? And how disappointed Kohra had been when he'd found it was anger and vengeance that had driven Kre'oss to come back. Because that witch, Zald'eana, had taken on the form of the Dawn Maiden. Kohra scoffed at his childishness.

And then Kohra had forced the issue on Caen'ir of whether he and Kre'oss had made love. Why did he do that? It didn't verify or discount his theory of why Kre'oss had disappeared recently, regardless of what the answer was. At the time all Kohra could think of was himself, and prying the answer out of Caen'ir, unaware or uncaring of the consequences. He groaned at the memory. And now he had driven a wedge between himself and Caen'ir, when he had been trying so hard to form a friendship. And besides that, Kre'oss would be very non-plussed about Kohra's behaviour.

Kohra had somehow managed to place himself in the position he had sworn to himself throughout his life never to be in. One of interference.

It's quiet here, Kohra thought to himself. This is as good a place as any to figure out how fix this...

The rest of it

Dragons have infinite patience, and the great wyrms with lifespans stretching centuries savored their task. They made Alberic endure day after day without sleep, forced him to hold burning coals until his flesh sizzled, then beat him if he made any sound of protest. They bore him on flights from dizzying height dangled upside-down in their claws, and soared higher still to the point where he could barely breathe at the first sign of fear. Worst of all were the magical tortures, usually implemented by the most cunning of the wyrms, Nidhogg and Vrtra, layering complex illusions on Alberic's sleep-deprived mind, making his worst nightmares seem true until reality and illusion blended seamlessly in his brain. Another method of torture that they used was to whisper into his mind so that the magical voices of the wyrms hissed in his brain even when the other tortures had eased.

It only took ten days, and yet, the moment of Alberic's surrender seemed a lifetime in the making. Alberic laid in his pit during a moment of respite, fingering Roccin's testimony. "Surrender to Bahamut," he whispered, his cracked, parched lips barely able to form the words. The voices in his head laughed derisively. There was no other option, was there? He couldn't even die, now. He wasn't worthy of that release. They would toy with him until they grew bored, because he was less than scum to them. His life was nothing--no, not even that. He was something disgusting that shouldn't even live, and only lived now because he was too much of a coward to accept the death his idiocy and vanity had earned him.

Ouryu reached into the pit and pulled Alberic from it, pausing as he saw the look in the limp figure's barely-open, glazed eyes. He lifted his great muzzle. "He is ready."

*** *** ***

Alberic was permitted sleep and water; without it, he would not survive the anointment ceremony, he was told. As chance and perhaps design had it, it was midnight on a Lightsday when they brought him out of the pit one last time. All of the dragons were arrayed on their perches, their eyes gleaming from the darkness, soft sparks billowing forth from their breath. Bahamut waited on the central platform; the Wyrm-King had etched a large magic circle on the bare rock before him, then splashed the entire circle with thick black blood. Alberic staggered weakly over to Bahamut and fell at his feet. A massive claw reached down, seizing Alberic by the head and wrenching it up to look up at the Wyrm-King's bulk.

The intrusion came without warning. Bahamut's mind, overwhelming and irresistable, pushed painfully into Alberic's, wrenching it open, and merging their consciousnesses. The magic circle flared around them with the intensity of the magic; Alberic's back arched, his entire body going taut and rigid, his muscles starting out from his frame as pain exploded from every nerve; his vision swam in multiples, tears streaming down his face, but the intrusion was merciless and widened, deepened more, as Bahamut ruthlessly forced the connection. Intense nausea clenched at Alberic's belly, and he dry-heaved, sobbing openly, but Bahamut simply dropped his body carelessly to the stone floor, face-down.

Power flooded through the connection, and Alberic twitched faintly on the ground, seeing through two pairs of eyes simultaneously. The human mind was irrevocably yoked to the immeasureable one of the Wyrm-King, and eons whirled through their brains; the dragons hummed in excited approval. "Bind him down," Alberic dimly heard Bahamut order, and he felt Ouryu on one side and Fafnir on the other pin down his arms on either side. Bahamut ripped off the dragon-hide that was clothing Alberic, and Alberic raised his head, craning it around to see what Bahamut was doing. The Wyrm-King was superheating his claws with a soft breath of blue flame, and terror twisted Alberic's heart. "You are a dragon now, Alberic I Tavnazia," Bahamut said forcefully, setting his claws to Alberic's back. "You must have wings."

The pain of Bahamut's hot claws tearing into his flesh was almost as much as the mental violation from moments before, and Alberic's screams rent the sky. Although the Wyrm-King's claws were massive, they traced a surprisingly delicate, intricate design into Alberic's back, leaving deep, thick grooves in his flesh in the shape of stylized dragon wings, spread across Alberic's shoulder blades and down to the small of his back. The wyrms pinning down Alberic's arms did not permit him to move, and all he could do was writhe faintly into the bloody stone floor. The dragons answered his screams, screeching and roaring their acknowledgement of the hideous ritual, and at last Bahamut raised his claw, his tongue snaking out to lick his talons clean of blood. Alberic could barely raise his head, so the wyrms set him back on his feet, turning him so that all could see the badly bleeding scars.

Bahamut's will then controlled him, and Alberic raised his head, his eyes blazing crimson red, and when he spoke, it was in a voice nearly as great as his Master's. "Hear me, children of Bahamut!" he cried. "I am Alberic I Tavnazia! I am the Prophet of Bahamut!" He raised his hands to the sky, heedless of the pain, one with the Wyrm-King. "From this day forth, you must obey me as you do him, for I live only to do his work!"

The dragons as one reared and spread their wings, large and small, and bugled their acceptance of their former slave as their new Master, until the whole of Cape Riverne rang with their call.

Over the next months after the end of the convocation0, Bahamut taught Alberic how to control his new power. Although Alberic now shared in the Wyrm-King's abilities, almost as if he was indeed part-dragon, the Wyrm-King was always the one in control. With a thought, Bahamut informed Alberic, no matter where on Vana'diel Alberic was, he could be controlled or even killed with a single thought by the Wyrm-King, and his Master often chose to torture him through the mind-link simply to remind him of his subservient position. They shared one another's thoughts, to the point where Alberic felt he was not sure where he began and Bahamut ended; Bahamut was openly contemptuous of any emotions or memories that he felt were weak. The only times when Alberic had any freedom at all were when he was seeing into the future. At those times, the dragons all relied on Alberic to interpret and translate the weltered visions which their minds were unable to understand.

For Alberic's part, a sense of strange calm emerged from his anointment as Bahamut's Prophet, and his surrender to that inexorable will. He was dragon-souled now, and flights over Tavnazia filled him with fierce joy rather than terror; the pride and, yes, arrogance that had filled his mind with dreams of escape had been crushed utterly. His life, even as Bahamut's Prophet, was a mere eyeblink to the dragons, and he was permitted to exist because he was useful, but he was also utterly replaceable. There was nothing about him worth noting or keeping; all of his human frailty and weakness was disgusting, for had he not chosen slavery over death, and sold what little worth or honor he had? Bound to Bahamut's soul as he was, Alberic was often nauseated by himself, his sthomach turning at the abhorrent half-dragon, half-man that he had become, and the sheer depths of his cowardice.

And so, six months passed with Alberic learning the craft of the Seer, the ways of prophecy, and then Bahamut ordered him to go forth into the world and carry out the will of the Wyrm-King. For the future was not certain, and Bahamut wished to use the precious few months of his Prophet's lifespan to influence events to his liking, so that the dreadful Apocalypse would never occur.

*** *** ***

Alberic started awake on a warm bed with silken sheets. He was somehow back in the Safehold, in his old rooms. He had no disorienting moment of "Was it all a dream?"; the Wyrm-King's intrusive presence and the soft murmur of the wyrms' voices in his mind allowed no such comforting illusions. He slid out of bed, as alert as if this were still Monarch Linn, and froze as he caught sight of himself in a mirror across the room.

Six months, along with the ordeal he had experienced, had altered his body almost beyond recognition. His form was lean and rangy now with no softness to the lines of his muscles, browned by long hours under the sun. He had grown another inch or two as well, now a formidable height even for an Elvaan male, and his shoulders seemed almost as broad as an axe handle; his hair had grown down the nape of his long neck nearly to his shoulders, and was now an unkempt, wolfish mane that hung in his eyes, rather than the smooth, neatly brushed style of before. His face bore the features of the indulged young Tavnazian lord, but all of the innocence and arrogance and gentleness had been burned away; he was almost shocked by the wild look in his blue eyes, the coldness and savagery imprinted on his face now. He grinned then, a feral expression devoid of boyhood mischief--his friends would barely know him, now.

He pulled on clothes, shuddering faintly at the feel of linen brushing the thick, rough scar tissue on his back. Although the thick claw-marks that Bahamut had engraved into him had healed and hardened into scars, they were blackened from Alberic's use of powers, as if the design had been burned into his flesh rather than cut. The voices in his head murmured caution and contempt--this place was filled with the weak, fit only to be prey. Alberic did not need to do a reading to know how his homecoming would go. He rummaged through his thingsd, now dusty from disuse, for an adventurer's traveling pack, and filled it with clothes and what useful items and money he could find. As an afterthought, he dug around in his pillowcase for his signet ring, and slipped it back on. "A worthless trinket of a worthless rank for a worthless man," he murmured, then burst out into a peal of laughter.

When he stepped outside, he was surprised to see Livronauge keeping vigil in a chair outside of his rooms. The boy leapt to his feet at Alberic's appearance. "Alby!" he cried excitedly. "I'd heard you'd been found--it seemed too good to be true! You're back--you're alive!" He hugged Alberic fervently. "I never gave up hope, never!"

Alberic found himself smiling tolerantly and patting the boy's shoulder; the expression felt odd on his face, as if it had been ages since he smiled. "In a way, I DID die, Livvy. I don't remember how I came to be found, though."

Livronauge's hands paused on Alberic's lower back, having brushed against one of Alberic's scars. His face clouded, and he looked up at Alberic, his mouth opening to question, but Alberic simply detached Livvy's arms from around his waist. Livvy glanced down. "You showed up yesterday afternoon, wearing only a rotting dragon skin and raving about Bahamut.... We almost didn't recognize you. Prishe had to use magic on you to get you to calm down."

Alberic's shoulders tightened a bit at Prishe's name--she would probably be able to tell how he was changed--but he was distracted by a flare of color above the boy's head. He glanced up at it, and was assailed by a welter of impressions and images: various of Livronauge's futures, as well as a few from his near past. He snapped back to the here-and-now, dimly aware that a few minutes had elapsed since he had started staring off into space, and fumbled for an explanation. Livronauge's face was worried, even a bit scared. Alberic couldn't hold back a nervous laugh. "Erm, sorry kiddo--"

"Alberic!" Esterimond and Cirece were approaching him, Cirece's arm tucked into the protective crook of Esterimond's elbow. Alberic noticed that Esterimond hardly looked happy to see him, while Cirece gazed at him with open horror at his changed attitude. "Where have you been?" Esterimond demanded brusquely. "The entire Safehold has been in an uproar since you vanished--why didn't you manage to tell us you were alive?!"

Alberic turned to them, his eyes flicking above their heads for a long moment. "So, you and Testy Esty, eh Cirece?" he noted, out loud in an absent tone of voice. "It's okay, but you could've waited a bit longer than a week to crawl into his bed, you know. By the way, you're two months along with child now--you're not going to be able to hide it from the elders much longer. Farinale has one of his on the way soon too, though--he's been seeing her and Ellinel on the side. Wow, Esty, I had no idea you were so popular with the ladies, especially since your dad drank away your family's whole fortune and is going to die, leaving you all penniless, in about a year." He glanced back at their faces, Cirece's white with horror and shock, Esterimond's with cold fury.

"You think you're so high and mighty just because you're the heir--" Esterimond started hotly.

"Actually, I'm high and mighty because I'm better than you, Esty," Alberic corrected him in a lazy drawl, patting Esterimond's cheek. "I've always been better than you, dear boy, and given I'm a piece of shit in general, that's saying something. If you hadn't spent our whole childhood grinding your teeth in envy of others, you'd have noticed it."

"Alberic?" Ulmia approached him hesitantly, shrinking back from Esterimond's naked rage and Cirece's posture of abject humiliation. "P-Prishe and Granpere would like to see you at once, in Granpere's quarters...."

"Alright," Alberic agreed affably. As he turned to leave, he added, "Oh by the way, Esty? You owe me another 50 gil. I brought back that dragon's head with me. It's right here--inside mine." He tapped his skull, grinning at the looks of disgust, fear, and anger from his once-friends, and strolled off down the hall.

How lovely it was, to be able to say anything he wanted and not really care what others thought of him! Esterimond's long-hidden envy and resentment of him wasn't a huge surprise, but Cirece's betrayal was a bit more of a shock. Oh, well. No woman deserved to be saddled with someone like him, with so little life given to him and so many problems in his own head. He highly doubted he'd ever have friends again, either. People were weak, deceitful creatures anyway--none moreso than himself--so why bother? It was better they all loathe him now. Their boyhood companion was long dead now, absorbed into the horrific person of the Prophet of Bahamut.

Alberic swept into Despechaire's quarters and promptly helped himself to a chair. The elder turned to look at Alberic sternly, then paused, noticeably taken aback by the changes in Alberic's demeanor. "Lord Alberic, where have you been these six months?"

"Living with the dragons," Alberic replied cheerfully. "They've chosen me to be their Prophet. I can see past and future now, and I serve the Wyrm-King, Bahamut, mightiest of the terrestrial avatars."

Despechaire reeled back, his expression filled with shocked outrage. "This is no time for jokes, Lord Alberic!"

"He's not joking." Prishe stepped out from the shadows, tossing her long lavender hair, her face as serious as Alberic had ever seen it. Their eyes met--and for the first time, Alberic could sense the immense power that lay within the small Elvaan girl. Here, he saw, was one that could defeat perhaps even the Wyrm-King. Unbidden, his eyes slid away from hers, up over her head. What kind of future could the Abhorrent One possible have?

"What the hell ARE you now?" Prishe demanded, her eyes flashing. "You LOOK like Alberic, but you sound more like some damned dragon!" Alberic knew she wasn't referring to the sound of his voice.

"I am the Prophet of Bahamut," he said in a soft voice. "The Wyrm-King found me dying on a cliff, and offered to save me, if I swore to serve him. I was a coward, so I swore. He raped my mind, melding mine to his, and pours his power into me through the connection, so that I can read the future for him." Alberic took a deep breath, looking at Prishe. "He says the Apocalypse is coming."

Prishe gazed back at him steadily, only the faint furrow to her brow showing any concern at his words. "And I guess this damned dragon controls you now, huh?" Alberic was never more conscious than at that moment of how he and Prishe were complete opposites in every way, and he had to lower his eyes in shame. "If that's the case," she continued, a rare hint of compassion in her voice, "it'd be best for everyone if you left. You'd be a danger to us if you stayed--and people wouldn't understand."

Despechaire, over his shock, cleared his throat and slowly nodded. "For once--I am in agreement with Prishe. It is... for the good of the Safehold, Alberic, that you leave."

Although he had realized the inevitability of this decision the moment he had caught sight of himself in the mirror, Alberic still felt a tightness in his throat and chest at their words, and a prickling in his eyes. Briskly, he rose to his feet and nodded to each of them. "Great, it's settled then. I'll rely on your discretion in return, Despechaire and Prishe, to keep rumors from flying. No need for the whole Safehold to know, it'd only alarm them. Lord Bahamut will leave you alone if you leave him alone, I can vouch for that." He nodded again in a businesslike way. "Apparently the life expectancy of this role ain't so hot, so as soon as there's another of the Tavnazian bloodline, whether my issue or another, I'll gladly renounce my title to them."

With that, he swept a deep, courtly bow to the both of them. "I take my leave. Elder Despechaire, thanks for putting up with my bratty ass as long as you did. Prishe, you are as fair-minded as you are beautiful, which is to say a lot." He grinned impudently at her look of shocked pique and winked, before strolling out of the door.

Apparently word of his changed behavior had already traveled around the Safehold, for Alberic saw no one in his path on the way out, though many doorways were filled with staring and whispering clusters of people. He flipped off a few of the more obvious ones and jauntily strode through the Safehold, through corridors he had played in during his childhood and past dark corners he'd hidden within whenever he wanted to be alone. The voices in his head whispered that that was someone else's childhood, someone else's memories. Maybe that was so. Alberic wasn't sure anymore.

The guards by the exit to Lufaise Meadows eyed him, then looked away; whether they had been ordered by Prishe to let him pass, or simply heard the rumors of his erratic conduct and wanted nothing more to do with him, he couldn't be sure. But right as he was about to leave, Alberic was surprised to see Livronauge run up to him, panting and red-faced.

"Alby! You can't be thinking about going outside again, are you? You almost died last time!"

Alberic smiled gently and tousled Livvy's hair affectionately. "I've gotta go, kiddo. Both Prishe and Elder Despechaire asked me to leave the Safehold."

"Leave?" Livronauge was aghast. "B-but... when will you be back...?"

"Probably never."

"Nooooo!" Livvy shook his head violently, balling up his fists. "You'll die! You'll die, won't you? Or is that what they want--you to die just because you're a bit different now?!"

Alberic couldn't help but laugh softly at that. "I'm a LOT different now, Livvy--and I can see things other people can't, things people don't want anyone else to see. People are scared of powers they don't understand. Look at how the Elders treat Prishe. They think she's disgusting, the Abhorrent One, just because she's got different powers--even though she's used those powers to save us all, and protects the Safehold with them."

Livvy nodded thoughtfully, his eyes filled with tears. "I don't feel that way about her, though..."

Alberic smiled. "Yeah, you and the other younger guys are different. And maybe one day, things here'll be different for both Prishe and I, when you're in charge."

That brought a faint grin to Livvy's face. "Alby... those things you said about Esty and Cirece... about their future... is that true?" he asked hesitantly. "I mean--is that how everything is going to turn out? It seems so sad for them...."

Alberic nodded, his tone thoughtful. "Well, Livvy... there's not just one destiny for everyone. Cirece knows about Esty's other girls now... maybe she can convince him to settle down with just her, and they can get married, raise their kid together, and work hard to restore the lost family fortune. You never know. No one's fated to be unhappy, Livvy. As long as you're still alive, there's hope--and maybe even after that, too, in the next life."

Livronauge smiled at Alberic's words, and for a moment, a multitude of bright futures sparkled in his eyes. "Yeah, you're right, Alby!" Solemnly, he clasped Alberic's hand. "So this isn't goodbye, then. You'll be back--I know it." Then, with one last wave, Livvy disappeared back into the Safehold.

Alberic stepped out of the Safehold into Lufaise Meadows, snickering softly to himself. Despite his best efforts, Livvy had turned out just like him, after all. He blinked up at the sun, letting his eyes adjust to the bright light, and sent out a thought to his Master; the whole wide world was open to him now, for Lord Bahamut had business to be done everywhere. And this was a new age--not one of armies or kings or Marquises, but of adventurers, men and women who could carve their own lives whole from the fabric of destiny. A light frisson of pain through the mental link reminded Alberic that he was not free--but he WAS alive. And he intended to stay that way for as long as he could.

A dragon descended from the sky, screeching at Alberic, and he climbed quickly onto its back. "Bastok seems like a great place to start," he told it. "No one will care where I come from, there." Then with a surging leap and the struggling sweep of leathery wings, the pair were airborne, soaring away from Tavnazia in the limitless space between cloud and heaven.

Still more.... (in which I torture Alberic mercilessly)

Alberic I Tavnazia lay choking and dying underneath a golden sunset.

It had just been this morning that he had ventured out of the Safehold, pursuing the vapor trails overhead that he was sure belonged to the immense black dragon. He had taken such pride in his care, sneaking across Lufaise Meadows, easily avoiding the wild tusked bugards and lumbering Gigas alike, contemptuous of being caught. He'd ventured out a dozen times before after all, and they'd never seen him. Even if they did, he could easily outrun such slow, cumbersome creatures, and the beastmen were all so stupid anyway. The trail had arced out over the old Marquisate, and heedless of risk, Alberic had scaled to the heights of Blueblade Fell to get a better look.

The highest point in Tavnazia, the cliffs of Blueblade Fell overlooked the broad forests, now overrun, that surrounded the hereditary lands of the Marquisate beyond Lufaise Meadows. Alberic had been mesmerized by the crisp, cool breezes that swirled up from the limitless vistas, clean with a hint of the musk of lush vegetation and untouched earth. A lump had risen unexpectedly to his throat as he raised his eyes to the distant peak and its abandoned city; long-forgotten, hazy childhood memories of feasts in a great hall, of brave knights hunting game in these forests, his cousin Rochefogne showing him how to grip a sword properly, his uncle spinning long tales of how to behave with courtly valor and bravery, the feel of his mother's long silken skirts--

And the past had evaporated in a spasm of agony as the first Orcish blade had pierced his side. He had been so lost in foolish boyhood remembrances that he hadn't even heard the pair of Orcs approach; their axes and blades were rusted and dull from shoddy care, but they had attacked him with enough brute force to snap bone and shatter his body. A broken rib had pierced his lung, and cough as he might he couldn't clear it of the blood slowly filling it. The Orcs had strpiped him of every piece of metal he bore, so he couldn't even end it quickly, but they had left him to die slowly, uncaring of the feeble life they left scrabbling in the dirt.

Alberic coughed up more blood, gasping raggedly for air, writhing pathetically on the ground in an attempt to stand, to crawl, to do anything. Was this how it was all to end--nauseated with pain, clutching to every heartbeat, willing his lungs to somehow reach one more breath, under a red-gold sky staring over the kingdom he would never rule?

Air buffeted his face then, and his chest constricted painfully at the suden crushing presence that overwhelmed his mind. The wind shook with the snap of heavy wingbeats, and the cliff groaned as two clawed feet grasped the edge, each the size of a fully-grown chocobo. Alberic rolled slowly onto his back, gazing up at the immense being rearing above him, too transfixed by the mastery of its aura to be afraid; it was no mere dragon he had been tracking, he realized now in awe, but a dragongod, its mawed face possessing an ancient and cruel intelligence as it gazed down at Alberic contemptuously.

Then it spoke, its voice addressing Alberic as much in his soul as in the crashing growl that assaulted his ears. "Know, O man, that I am Bahamut the Wyrm-King, Lord of all dragons and one of the five terrestrial avatars sworn and bound by the ancients to guard Vana'diel." The immense dragon-wings, gun barrel gray, snapped open wide, steadying Bahamut's bulk and blotting out the golden sky. "You who are but moments from death have some small use to me. I offer you this one chance to retain your miserable existence--swear your life to my service, become my creature in body, mind, and soul, or perish with your next breath."

Death... The very word, the inevitability of it, chilled Alberic's heart to the core. He had only a second to consider, a mere heartbeat to reach into his soul and find only terror there, the sheer terror of death. There was no time for rational consideration, only instinctive response; and his instinct, every cell of his body and inch of his spirit, screamed that he did not want to die! It didn't matter to him in that moment, if he could even comprehend it, what might become of him or what consequences there would be. His lips parted, seemingly of their own volition, and he choked out, "I--accept."

Bahamut reared back, roaring triumphantly at the sky, and seemed to swell enormously; as the echoes of his roar reverberated back from every end of Tavnazia, the great maw opened, and he bathed Alberic's body in a brilliantly white flame that scoured him in heat and healing magic. His heart seemed to stop a moment, then surged forth with new life and vitality, and he spit out the last traces of blood from his lungs, the pain vanishing along with the afterimage of the healing fire. Alberic sat up, amazed, flexing his arms and legs faintly, his head spinning from the power of the magic that had brought him back so rapidly from the brink of death.

One of Bahamut's heavy claws dropped on top of Alberic, enclosing him. "What are you called, mortal?" the Wyrm-King demanded.

"I am Alberic," he stammered, feeling afraid for the first time. "Alberic I Tavnazia, nephew of Altedour I Tavnazia, the late Marquis of Tavnazia."

"Not for long," Bahamut replied. "Now, you belong to me." And with a mighty sweep of his wings and the scrape of claw on rock, he took to the skies, Alberic firmly in his clawed grasp.

*** *** ***

The place that Bahamut had called Monarch Linn was soon packed with dragons of all sizes. From the mighty and ancient wyrms, each as intelligent as any of Altana's children, to wild blue and black-colored wyverns, unsworn to any dragoon; from tiny Puks more bird-kin than dragon, to two-legged war dragons with great crested heads; to even a few rare Peistes from distant lands, snake-like and stately; all had gathered at the Wyrm-King's call, to the bowl-shaped, cavernous cliff of Monarch Linn, high upon floating rocks above the remnants of Cape Riverne on the western coast of Tavnazia.

The dragons were nested all around the Linn, their eyes gleaming expectantly, when Bahamut shoved Alberic into their midst, the young man blinking and shivering at the intensity of so many fiends' regard. "My children!" Bahamut bugled triumphantly. "After over a century of waiting, the time has arrived for a human Prophet to serve me once more! This creature has the seed of power I seek, and has accepted the pact!"

The dragons exploded in a chorus of jeers and shrieks and whistles, beating their wings and blowing small puffs of flame into the sky, the small ones flinging small rocks and pebbles at Alberic, who tried to shield his face with his hands. An immense wyrm with hide as black as pitch rumbled in a deep voice, "He seems healthier than your last choice, my Lord, but weak. His sense of self and ego are strong. Even now, he has the arrogance to stand on his feet before us. Without the proper respect due to dragonkind, how can we be sure he will faithfully serve?" Murmurs of doubt and assent met the wyrm's words.

"You speak well, Vrtra, and your words are heeded," Bahamut answered. "He is not akin to those I have chosen in the past, no. I decided to seek out a more independent, willful specimen--although he will be broken, I guarantee so. His inner strength may allow him to survive longer than the more docile creatures that have served me in the past. We enter, my children, into an age of Apocalypse; my power must not be constrained by any weakness or failure, if we are to avert the disaster that awaits this Vana'diel."

The great wyrms rumbled quietly in agreement, shifting their weight back and forth on their legs. Bahamut set a heavy claw on Alberic's shoulder. "If we are all in agreement, let us set the seal on this man; this convocation will not end until this Elvaan mortal has been anointed as my Prophet, or has died in the process."

The dragons roared mightily from every height of the Linn, shaking all of Riverne with the sound so that birds and hippogriffs fled from the cacophony; a sheep, bleating in mindless terror, was brought forth and slaughtered, and Alberic was forced to his knees and made to drink the fresh blood from the dead creature's throat. He was wrapped in the cast-off skin of a dragon to the roars and caterwauls of the convocation, both mocking and approving, then taken to a pit hewn from the rock and flung inside.

*** *** ***

It was deep into the night of the second day when Alberic found the rolled-up hide. He had been subjected to periodic tortures and humiliation since the beginning of his "training," given nothing to eat or drink but the blood of freshly-killed animals, forced to clean the dragons' offal and wait on the ancient wyrms, whose responsibility it seemed to be to train him. Alberic was unsure what the purpose of the training was, other than to cause him abject misery; although his suffering seemed to amuse the wyrms as much as the other lesser dragons, he sensed they were waiting for something, as if all of this was designed to provoke some sort of response in him. Perhaps they were testing his strength. Grimly, Alberic resolved not to give them the pleasure of seeing him fail. He had not survived near-death at the hands of the Orcs only to falter here! Whatever fate awaited him, Bahamut had chosen him specifically to become this Prophet--that meant, as he had always known, that he was special, that there was something about him worth saving from death.

The hide that he found was, to his surprise, a well-cured sheep's hide. It was half-hidden beneath the remnants of a skeleton, curled up against one wall of the pit that was apparently to be his home. The bones of the skeleton, he noticed as he tugged the hide free, were curiously scored across the spine, hips, and shoulderblades with long, thick black marks, as if the unfortunate person had been flayed by a whip of fire. Alberic edged away from the skeleton, unrolling the hide, trying to hide it from the watchful gaze of Tiamat, who was standing guard over the pit to keep him from sleeping. There were words laboriously etched into the leather. Tilting the hide so he could read by the dull gleam of the moon, Alberic skimmed the missive.

"To my successor:

"I am Roccin, once a Hume of a small village called Bastok, but I am now the Prophet of Bahamut. My death rapidly approaches, for the service of Lord Bahamut is death, but I am content. I lived sixty-four years in Bastok, a simple fisherman, but I have known more joy in the two years that I have served my Lord and Master than in the whole of my previous existence. I write not to dissuade you, but to encourage you to embrace thjis destiny even as I have done, that you too may know happiness. Our Lord is all-consuming, inexorable and irresistible; give yourself over to him, surrender utterly to him, and die with bliss from his use.

"What is this new role to which you have been called? To be Lord Bahamut's Prophet is to join with him, soul and mind, and be a conduit for his limitless power, to see for him the future. To know the future is a profound gift, and to share Lord Bahamut's mind and power is nothing short of the profoundest ecstasy, but this power will waste you away even as it transfigures you. Flame and rapture alike will burn you to nothingness, and this will be the manner of your death, as it will be mine and as it was all of the Prophets that came before me.

"I know little of my predecessors, only that there were only six before me, and my immediate predecessor was a child. All have perished within a year or two of being anointed; Lord Bahamut's power, all glory be to him, is too great for a mere mortal to bear for long. Twice as many have been selected and sealed as potentials, but were too weak to survive the training; if you too are in training, heed my words: submit to the will of the Wyrm-King. Surrender to him, and live only to serve him, to love him. We who are his Prophets are as nothing to him. We are disposable, fragile mortal creatures that exist only to be used and consumed by him, then discarded. Believe these words, my brother and successor, and embrace the inevitability of your destruction."

Alberic lowered the hide, his heart racing so fast that he felt faint. For the first time, he was terrified--not of dying, but of living.

More to come...

"Hey!" An excited Livronauge leaned around one of the pillars on the second floor of the Tavnazian Safehold, maintaining his balance only by an arm flung around the pillar, and waved energetically to the two young men on the central rope bridge. "Esterimond! Alby!"

"Quit calling Alberic 'Alby,'" the shorter, blond Elvaan of the two drawled, elbowing the other in the side. "He's already got enough issues without you confusibng him with a girl's nickname."

Alberic, as tall and dark as Esterimond was fair and petit, allowed himself a disparaging snort, his face splitting into a wide grin that made him seem more like the boy he had been than the man he was becoming. "At least I can get a date, Testy Esty," he noted in his cocky tenor voice, attempting to return the elbow but missing as his friend leapt nimbly to the side. "Oy! Livronauge!" he yelled back up in response. "Best get your ass down here and quit your yelling, you know how the elders feel about it." In a lower tone, he said as an aside to Esterimond, "Last thing we need is to be accused of bringing up the next generation to be just like us."

Esterimond laughed, then imitated Elder Despechaire's querulous voice. "Bunch of shiftless troublemakers! Layabouts with no proper Tavnazian pride or industry!"

Alberic pulled a face, scrunching up his fine aristocratic features in a sardonic grimace, leaning against the rope handrail. "I wasn't bred to be industrious. I was bred to be the SPARE."

Esterimond's smile vanished, as it always did whenever Alberic referred to himself as such, but he never had a chance to say his rebukes as Livronauge ran up to them, panting from having sprinted down from the second floor.

"Where's the fire, Livvy?" Alberic tousled the younger boy's short white-blond hair familiarly.

Esterimond rolled his eyes. "Again with the ridiculous nicknames."

Alberic sighed, shooting Esterimond a Glare of Death, then turned back to Livronauge. "Where's the fire, O Honorable and Esteemed Livronauge M Revonet, heir to the baronetcy of Misareaux?" He punctuated his speech with a courtly, florid bow.

Livvy grinned widely, staring up at the older boys, both only a year or so away from attaining full adulthood, his eyes filled with the usual admiration. Only two years old at the time of the evacuation to the Safehold, Livvy tended to look up to the older teenagers who actually remembered the invasion of the Marquisate, as if they had participated in grand adventures and noble defense of the city rather than having fled through the sewers in terror, leaving only death behind. "Prishe saw it too, Alby!" he announced, with the air of someone imparting a juicy tidbit of gossip. "She saw the black dragon too! She said it was be biggest dragon she ever, ever saw--bigger than the ancient wyrms, even!"

Alberic raised his eyebrows, then turned back to Esterimond. "You owe me fifty gil--told you it was real!"

Esterimond handed over the coins with a grumble. "You ALSO said you'd capture or kill it."

"So I did," Alberic acknowledged with a broad grin. "Now that Prishe has seen the thing, maybe the others will let me go out after it--well, for the safety of the Safehold, of course." He put his features hastily into a grave expression, though the excited sparkle in his blue eyes gave him away. "Wouldn't want a beast that large to nest near the Safehold, or so on or so forth."

"What are you going to do about the elders, though?" Esterimond asked warily, lowering his voice automatically and glancing around. "Prishe may not care whether or not you risk your own skin, but you can damned well bet that Despechaire will. He may not like you, but you're the last known living member of the Tavnazian line, and the heir to the Marquisate."

Esterimond and Livronauge both glanced down at the large, worn signet ring on Alberic's left hand, the former enviously, the latter more wistfully. Encrusted with a small fortune's worth of jewels and engraved with the royal crest of the Marquisate of Tavnazia, it was battered and ancient from generations of wear by Alberic's ancestors. He wore it on the third finger of his hand, whenever he even bothered to wear it, and rarely cleaned it so that it was smeared with traces of mud and grime from the young man's secret explorations outside. Noticing their glances, Alberic's expression flashed quickly to an artless uncaring, and he slid off the ring, rolling it around between his fingers before closing his fist around it.

"Don't worry about old man Despechaire," he announced grandly. "I'm sure he'll see reason. Trust me."

"Alberic!" a worried voice came from behind them on the bridge, and all three boys jumped. They whirled around to be suddenly face-to-face with Ulmia, Cirece, and Prishe--the first two being renowned as the prettiest girls in the Safehold, and the last being the Safehold's own firebrand leader, a young girl with a temper as quick and hot as dragonfire. Esterimond quickly put on his best charming smile for the redheaded UIlmia--it looked more like a smug smirk, Alberic privately thought--but neither she nor the silver-haired Cirece looked away from Alberic. Prishe's arms were akimbo, her face twisted in a fierce scowl fit to make all three boys recoil slightly.

"You weren't planning on going outside again, were you, Alberic?" Ulmia asked, her musical voice tinged with worry. "It's too dangerous--you know how Granpere worries about you--"

Alberic tried to hide a grimace. Ulmia was Despechaire's granddaughter, and had taken it upon herself to become the Safehold's mother hen, even though she was his age. "Of course I wouldn't do such a thing," he lied easily. "We're safe in here, and I haven't Prishe's powers or skill to keep in one piece."

"You lie like a drunken Hume, Alberic I Tavnazia," Prishe snapped, "which is to say--often and poorly! No matter how many times I catch you or beat the tar out of you, you always do. I don't care how many times you wanna risk your neck, but don't expect any rescue parties when you don't come back!" She rounded on Esterimond and Livronauge, who quickly turned tail and ran. "And YOU two--hey! Come back here!!" She tore off after them, with Ulmia trailing after her like she always did.

Alberic turned to escape while he could, only to feel a slim pair of arms encircling one of his. He looked down, only to see Cirece's wide hazel eyes, gazing up at him and filled with worry. "Please, my Lord," she murmured hesitantly, lowering her eyes shyly away from his and half-veiling them with thick dark lashes, "Don't leave the Safehold again... I die inside every time you do...."

He reached up hesitantly to smooth her long, thick silver hair a moment, marveling at its softness and how it managed to not get caught in his suddenly clumsy, rough hands. Unlike him, Cirece had such sweet, pure eyes, and her beautiful yet angular Elvaan face was taut with earnest anxiety for him. He managed to force out words. "It's for the good of the Safehold, darling. That dragon could raze us all and destroy everything we've worked so hard to build. I have to go--to protect us all. It's my destiny."

She hesitated, glancing back up at him at his words, then looked around to make sure they were momentarily alone before twining her arms up around his neck and pressing her warm lips to his. He scarcely had a moment to reciprocate, to savor the fullness of her lips against his and taste their willingness, their supple surrender to his own, before she tore herself away and fled with a low sob.

*** *** ***

"A land survey?" Despechaire sounded inordinately suspicious, which made Alberic wonder if Ulmia had alerted him to what Alberic was planning. "And you say you noted a dragon of uncommon size near the Safehold?"

"I'd just stay to the holdings nearest the Safehold," Alberic promised in his most mature, calm tone, keeping his face carefully blank. "It is important to all Tavnazia that we mark where the beast is nesting and keep it away from our lands, it is a great danger to us all."

The old man fixed him with a stare, pointing a gnarled finger at him. "You are to be the Marquis of Tavnazia, Lord Alberic--"

Alberic's temper began to flare at the beginnings of an all-too-familiar lecture. "The Marquisate is gone, sir. We're never getting it back, especially not if we stay cooped up in this prison of rock, hiding from our own shadows!"

"You go too far!" Despechaire snapped. "This so-called prison has kept us alive and safe for ten years, and it is all we have! You have seen for yourself how tenuous life outside can be--we've lost three lads your age in the last year alone, off on scurrilous adventures such as the one you propose, their heads filled with idiocy about taking the Marquisate back from the beastmen--"

"They were sick and tired of being cooped up here, not even allowed to set foot outside!" Alberic protested.

"You have a responsibility to the people of Tavnazia!" Despechaire shouted back. "Lord Altedour never would have flouted that responsibility by doing as he pleased; Lord Rochefogne wouldn't sneak out so much and worry us all half to death; Lord Aldebert--"

Alberic cut him off harshly. "Well, they're all dead and you're stuck with the SPARE instead. Won't you open your fool eyes and see--this IS for the good of the Safehold! There's a dragon half the size of a castle out there that could obliterate us all in a minute, even Prishe has seen it, and she thinks we should--"

"Don't talk to me about what that abomination thinks!" Despechaire roared, bringing his hand down onto the table angrily. "No one, least of all you, is to leave the Safehold--and that's final!"

Alberic stormed out of Despechaire's quarters and into his own, slamming the wooden door so forcefully on its hinges that it bounced and needed another swift kick to latch shut properly. That damned hidebound old coward! How could he think they were safer rotting to death in here? Alberic would rather die than live his entire life cooped up in the Safehold, too frightened to move, his existence bounded by stone walls with none but frightened elders and naive children for company. He was meant for something more, something great--not as Alberic, son of Aldebert, the spare heir, but as a warrior renowned throughout Vana'diel for courage and ability. Not just the Safehold, he reflected bitterly, but all Tavnazia was a prison; he was trapped into an empty lordship of a destroyed land by the deaths of his uncle and cousin in the war. What good was there in staying? Prishe was the real leader of these people, giving hope and guidance to the younger generation, while the elders clung to him for no reason other than the Tavnazian name and that he wasn't Prishe, whom they hated.

Cirece came to his rooms late that night. Her eyes said she knew he planned to sneak out anyway, but she said nothing about it, using her lips and tongue for a far more sensual purpose. She offered herself up to him freely, mutely, aned he gladly welcomed her need, losing himself within her quiet pleasure and burying both of their worries in a tide of pleasure. Exploring her, the lines of her warm flesh, the unexpected softness and welcome of her body, took his mind off of his restless captivity, and he was able to forget the future, if just for a short time. In the dead of night, Cirece's warm nakedness pressed up against him and her body stilled in the rhythms of sleep, Alberic took one last stock of his fortunes. It would be easy--so easy--to submit to his role as the future Lord of Tavnazia, to wed Cirece and work within his assigned place to bring change to the Safehold. Or--he could hunt that dragon and bring back its head, proving to everyone that there was nothing to be feared by going outside, that there was more to life than crouching behind stone walls, that they could take back this land and earn honor and respectability in confronting their terror head-on. Resolved, Alberic slid the heavy signet ring from his hand and hid it inside his pillowcase.

Tomorrow, he would have Esterimond and Livronauge stage a diversion for the guards by the door, then sneak outside in pursuit of glory.

*** *** ***

Alberic I Tavnazia lay choking and dying under a golden sunset.

I'm a tease ;P

A letter appears at some point in your Mog House--on thick vellum paper, written in a loopy, narrow handwriting, addressed to you specifically down to your weight, blood type, and birthdate. Your Moogle has no knowledge of how it arrived in your room; it may have even arrived while you were looking the other way, or perhaps you found it after a long day of adventuring. You open it up, half-wary, half-intrigued, and read:


Greetings!

Your fame and/or notoriety, especially with certain esteemed persons of unestimable esteem, are such that I of late have--that is to say, it has been brought to my attention, this fame/notoriety--by these selfsame esteemed personages. And they have spoken highly of you--or rather, they might have had they been the sorts to speak at all--and I began to wonder if you were more like an ocean or more like a raindrop, for I have use for the former and none for the latter, and I should like to make use of you, oh yes.

So! There will be a test--well, it's really more like a game, so you don't have to study or anything, really--but not just for you, for you and all of you, because I want to meet all of you. There is a certain place, known to me but not known to many, well, to many but not many that are like you, and we can meet in this place, and I can meet all of you rather than just you, and I'll get to see the you that you usually do not see. I would like, very much, to meet you there. We don't have to meet of course, I want you to want to meet me as much as I want to meet you, especially if it's all of you that wants to meet me, oh yes, but then I am sure you're going to go mad with both wondering and curiosity, and no one ever found out any answers by not going and seeing and meeting. Don't worry--if it's you, it'll be okay for sure.

Oh, and one more thing--this place is a place of shadow-people. I know you've been looking for a shadow-person lately, and if you come, if you did decide to meet and see and know and be, you'll find her! Isn't that great? That'll be some incentive for you, if you come. So, think about it, and we'll talk again soon I'm sure, and hopefully then we'll get to meet!


There is no signature, only a dark ink blot with three exceedingly thin, tiny ovals over a large circular blob.

Vacation? In my NB? It's more likely than you think.

Alby's gonna be gone for the next week, and weekend.

WE MISS YOU!

~Mai~

Brief Synopsis of events

Alby told Kohra that Mai and Kreoss fucked. Kohra ran off, followed by Alby, and tried to get Alby to kill him. Alby turned into BSI!Alby, complete with horns, who kissed Seik. Briddy showed up and found Kohra wandering aimlessly and naked in Miseraux Coast. Mai punched/kicked Kohra a couple times. Kohra lost some hair and teeth. Tsiife suggested Mai punch Alby. Briddy got angry with Tsiife... lol... all I can say is... wow...