[In Dion's defense, this is his first goblet. Despite the fact that he might long for the bottom of a cask, he knows that's a step too far. Not only would it drag his already disgraced image further into the mud, but he also doesn't deserve the tender mercy of such a release.
Nevertheless, he does ponder a second drink as he realizes he's being watched. He doesn't dare turn to give them attention, at least not right away. Logically he knows that he is but a stranger in this land. Nevertheless, he's grown far too used to the hateful stares of those who have suffered at his hand. He knows better than to cast a desperate look their way.
Yet while he anticipates words — angry and vile words — he does not expect those in particular. Nor does he expect the familiar timbre of Clive Rosfield's voice. He fights the urge to whip his head around, forcing a more gentle, relaxed turn as he regards the other man.]
Heavy? Not so. [He shakes his head, before his gaze falls to the floor.] I would not debase myself in such a way. And certainly not in an unfamiliar land with unfamiliar faces.
[He pauses, just for a moment.]
Mostly unfamiliar faces, that is to say. I did not expect to come across you of all people, Ifrit.
[ Give him a second Dion as he orders his own mug, then moves to take it and himself over properly to sit at the table with him, setting his mug down carefully. ]
Clive. Please. We brought down a God together, I think we can use first names.
[ He raises his mug a little and takes a few swallows, leaning back in his chair before answering. ]
And I didn't expect to see you. As you probably already know, this isn't Valisthea. Nor are we anywhere in our own world, really. How much have you learned since your arrival?
[While Clive takes his order, Dion takes the time to finish his own goblet off. He glances toward the door, having half of a mind to sneak out while he still can. Something in his mind stops him, a faint needling sensation that he simply cannot ignore. Instead, he watches the other Dominant from a distance, face unreadable.
That expression wavers the moment Clive sits. It isn't his presence that rattles Dion, though, but rather what the man has to say. His eyes narrow in the slightest, but he keeps silent as the other man continues. Only once the silence between them touches on the slightest bit uncomfortable does he let out a low exhale.]
Too much, and yet not enough. [The corner of his mouth twitches downward.] You said we felled a god. Am I to believe your mission was successful, then?
[The last he recalled, he had managed to take Ultima by surprise. It was an optimistic sign, perhaps, but Dion had long since seen his hope dashed against the Sanbrequois stones. He would need far more to believe that the beast had been felled.]
[ And Clive merely watches Dion in return, silent as he let's the other decide what he wants to do, to say. He drinks as the silence stretches. They may not have had time to really get to know the other, not like Dion and Joshua have, but he's seen Dion vulnerable, questioning himself. He's borne Joshua and Clive to the end, and gave them the edge they needed.
So he's willing to give Dion the time he needs here, without pushing him.
When Dion finally finds his words, Clive inclines his head and sets his mug back down. ]
It was. Ultima is no more. Whatever comes next for our world will be painful, but our people are free. As for this world... Forgive me for not saying anything just yet. I'm waiting for someone. I'm sure you'll find his words must easier to take than mine.
[ When Joshua felt his brother's summons, he wasn't sure what to expect. The fact that he can trace Clive to Luca's bar is hardly surprising, though. His brother seems to enjoy spending time there, after all. Especially these days.
But what he sees when he walks through the door isn't anything he could have expected. Joshua pauses in the doorway, eyes slowly widening with the realization of the situation dawning on him.
"Do I address a ghost?", Dion had asked him, once. Now he's the one left wondering.
But Clive wouldn't have called him here for a ghost. ]
Dion!
[ The prince may be sitting, but that does nothing to stop Joshua from all but skipping across the floor to scoop up the other man in a tight hug. Sorry, Dion. At least it only lasts a few seconds, and Joshua is pulling away again, beaming like the midday sun. ]
[Clive's vague allusion does little to put Dion's skeptical expression to bed. His brows draw tighter together, while his gaze remains locked on the other man. He tries to find the answer to the question of whom within the lines of his face, the stubble of his beard, the angle of his chin and -
the door opens, pulling Dion from his swiftly derailing thoughts. He doesn't turn to it, but instead shifts his eyes to the side. Even in his periphery, he recognizes Joshua Rosfield. Despite himself, he finds himself rising, easily meeting the embrace he knows is coming.
Joshua has always radiated warmth. It's a boon of being the Phoenix, or so Dion has long assumed. Nothing proved this more than the embraces they had shared across the many moons of their separate journeys. Yet now more than ever, he finds himself treasuring the radiance that comes off of him. It soothes a part of his soul that has remained chilled since awakening in this realm. Long had he wondered what had befallen his allies, after all. It was no secret that Joshua was ailing. Dion himself was well aware that the journey to Origin was like to be his last.
The fact, then, that both men stood tall fills him with no small amount of relief. Not that he'll admit as much aloud, of course.]
So many questions, Phoenix. [The corner of his lips tips upward just the slightest bit. It lasts only a second, before he returns to business.] I have been here naught more than a day or so. Long enough to realize just how out of place I am.
[He steps back, regarding the siblings almost sternly. A closer glance, however, might just barely show the faintest sparkle of mirth within his eyes.]
Would that I had known you were both here. It surely would have answered my questions. Trouble always seems to find you, I have learned.
[ There. That's exactly what he expected, from both of them. He doesn't bother hiding the way his lips quirk up into a smile at the hug, merely takes a few more solid drinks to empty his container and set it aside. Waits for the two to have their reunion, resting his chin on his hand as he does.
A day... So long enough to get the basics, but left in the dark on everything else. They'll be able to fill him in, for as much as they know.
The stern look makes him snort in return, he sees that sparkle Dion, and he gestures with his left hand, a little shrug of his shoulder. ]
Would you believe me if I said for once, this has nothing to do with us?
[ He doesn't dispute the fact trouble seems to find them, as they both are sort of now neck deep in everything. He sighs a little, and gestures for Dion to take a seat again, using his foot to push a chair out for his brother as well. ]
[ A day. A whole day. It's both not very long, in the larger span of things, and long in the fact that the Grove is not very large and most newcomers come to the Inn, and it's just... funny, he supposes, that they have missed each other's comings and goings. The things that happen during winter, when everyone is trying to stay warm.
He nods to Clive in thanks, taking the seat that he'd pushed out and neatly folding himself into it. ]
A drink would be wonderful.
[ But his eyes keep going back to Dion, and he can't help the smile that stays on his lips. Founder, it's so good to see him alive and well. The last time he'd seen him, he'd feared - no, known - the worst. That Dion sacrificed himself so that they may have a chance. And yet here he is, hale and whole, as though nothing ever happened.
The same had happened to him, though, hadn't it? Clive had said that the wound he had suffered as a result of Ultima leaving his body had claimed his life, and yet here he is, without Ultima, uninjured and whole. If Dion had also been brought from the point of his death...
No. That is a question for later, not for happy reunions. ]
In fact, it seems more that we have found trouble in coming here. This place... It is in danger. A fallen god means to see the end of the people here, and he will use all manner of underhanded tactics to ensure that it is done.
[ His smile fades as he speaks. ]
Even turning us against each other. Corrupting us, using us.
[Dion holds his hand up, declining the offer. One is enough. He'd meant it when he said he did not deserve the bliss that came with inebriation. And while Clive presumably busies himself with requesting new beverages, Dion finds his way back to his seat. He glances once more toward Joshua, trying to figure out what feels so different. There's a new level of life there it feels, a fresh layer of radiance from the very core of his aether.
Something had changed.
He asks no questions, says nothing until Clive has seated himself. He does stare unflinchingly at Joshua, still trying to parse out what had shifted. It's only once their conversation begins in earnest that his thoughts turn elsewhere. The tension in his shoulders, ebbed slightly by presence of Joshua, begins to return. His shoulders square, and his hands clench at the table.]
It sounds like a tale I have heard before. [He thinks of Ultima, his quest to purge Valisthea. Nausea threatens to flood him as images of the Akashic, corrupted and used as weapons, enter his mind.]
Clive said that Ultima had been purged. So what manner of form does this god take?
[ Dion declines but Clive will order a drink for his brother and himself - and somehow manages to not flirt with Luca in the process not right now - then turns his attention back to Dion. He frowns a little, tilting his head a bit. ]
Not an all together unfamiliar one. It's the sibling of the Sun God here, Lady Beiwe, but it's become Corrupted by something and hates humans as a result. But rather than attempting to bring it's own race back, it simply wishes to torment us then kill us when it finally gets bored.
[ He'll accept his and Joshua's mugs and set them down, sliding one towards his brother, then settle himself comfortably again, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. And if he's pleased Dion actually uses his name, then he'll hold it for less serious times. ]
And unfortunately, it has a stronger desire to torment us than Ultima ever did. To Ultima, we were pieces of "Them" that gained freedom, and in the end we would be erased from history as we returned properly to our maker upon him remaking the world. This creature, however... It would rather our souls be erased complete.
[ He pauses to sip his drink, scowling into it to the memory of Joshua turning against him. ]
[ While Clive fetches the drinks, Joshua tries to politely ignore the... strange glances that Dion seems to be giving him. He isn't sure why. The ones that he does catch, he returns with a smile, a slight cant of his head that asks a silent question, but otherwise he will let the matter be. If Dion doesn't want to ask, he will not press.
Instead, he takes his mug gladly as Clive sets it on the table for him, pulling it toward himself and cupping it in his hands, though he doesn't drink just yet. He folds one knee over the other, listening as Clive explains. ]
When we first arrived here, we aided a group in trying to make an assault on it while it slumbered during the winter months. It ended horribly. That... thing... It toyed with us, played with our minds, made us see things that weren't truly there. It killed some of us as though we were nothing.
[ The memory of it is still sour in his throat, even after all these weeks. He frowns down at his mug, pausing to take a sip, like the drink will wash the taste from his mouth. ]
It took control of me and corrupted me. Set me upon Clive. And I will never forgive it for that.
[A strange rush fills Dion when he realizes Joshua has caught his gaze. It feels so juvenile, not unlike his and Terence's earliest days. This thought, of course, prompts a sharp pang within his chest, and sets him to staring at the table until the conversation has well and truly begun.
Not that he particularly likes what he hears. He'd thought Ultima and his scheming bad enough. Yes, Dion had suffered by his machinations, but never physically so. And in the end, all of his actions could only be tied to himself, rather than his hand being forced. This seemed far worse.]
So there is to be no rest for the deceased, then. [A wry smile works over his lips, brief though it might be. He shouldn't be surprised. Fool he was for believing that his death might end his troubles. Thousands had died by his hands, after all. Surely he would have to suffer an equal amount of ends before he could rest.
Still, anger does grip him when Joshua speaks of his own troubles, one that pairs with concern.]
You would do well to be more careful. I cannot imagine that whatever corruption plagued you plays well with - [Dion stops short, however. His eyes fall to the spot on Joshua's chest that once was marred so deeply by Ultima's grip. He can't quite tell if the mark still lingers, but something about how Joshua's presence had shifted gives him the answer he needs.]
[ Dion's comment makes Joshua smile, too. It's a weak one into the edge of his mug, and he glances at his brother as he does. A funny thought, considering his thoughts on how they arrived. ]
None whatsoever, I'm afraid. Such is our fate as Dominants.
[ But then, Dion's observation catches him off guard. He'd noticed? His eyebrows raise, and he catches that look towards his chest. He'd once shown Dion the mark, of course he would know where it was. Bundled as he is against the chill, it's difficult to see the scar that remains there now, but the difference in his aether, perhaps... ]
... Ultima... left my body, shortly before I came here. So I no longer suffer his presence.
[ What that entails about his body at home, though, it still pains him to say. Not because he cannot accept his own death, but because Clive had been witness to it, and he knows that it likely still plagues his brother's nightmares. How could it not? ]
[ Yeah, to that? The small smile that had been on Clives lips, hidden by his mug, disappears and he turns his gaze away. The mood around him becomes much more sour than it was.
He doesn't want to think about it, he sees it nightly as is. ]
[The sudden shift in mood is not lost on Dion. He looks from Joshua to Clive now, then back once more. There is something he isn't keyed in on, it would seem. While normally, he would not seek to pry into business that is not his own, he figures he's earned that right having stood with the brothers at the end of the world.]
Perhaps it would serve me well to know what happened after my demise.
[He doesn't shy away from this statement. There's no sense in pretending that he had not met his end within Origin. What he wants to — no, must know, is whether or not anyone else had.]
I can tell by the look upon your face, Ifrit, things did not go to plan. [And that leaves him to look to Joshua next. He'd had his fears from the first that the man would not make the journey, given his already fragile constitution. Their reactions did little to assuage those doubts.]
[ Joshua glances at Clive again. He can see the pain on his brother's face at the mere mention of it. It isn't something that he wants to talk about, but...
Dion is right. He should know. Joshua inhales softly, resting his mug on his thigh, eyes focusing on the liquid within. ]
Over the years, after I had absorbed Ultima into my body at Drake's Head, I thought that my hold on him was failing as my body grew weaker. But I was wrong. It wasn't my hold that was weakening, but his strength that was growing.
Each Mothercrystal was nothing more than a fragment of Ultima, crystallized to bleed the land of its aether. I had only imprisoned one of many. And the more Mothercrystals that were shattered, the stronger Ultima became. And when we encountered him at Origin, when all of the fragments began to merge into one...
[ His nose wrinkles slightly at the memory of the pain. He doesn't want to go into explicit detail - it's already hard enough on Clive. ]
I don't recall anything after Ultima tore himself from my body. But Clive has told me that I did not survive the injuries sustained in the process.
[ He let's Joshua explain, nodding a little here or there, his eyes on the table. Silent. But Dion is right, Dion has earned the right to know. His voice is soft, as he turns his mug back and forth under his fingers. ]
He did not. The wound was too great, there was too much damage.
[ He pauses, takes a drink, lifts his head and sets the mug down again. ]
He gave me the Phoenix, in the end. With it, with the help of everyone, I was able to defeat Ultima. I took him as well, used him and the Phoenix to try and heal Joshua.
[ He shakes his head, his eyes crinkling at the edges in pain to the memory of his brother's body. Healed, and lifeless. ]
In the end I cast the spell Ultima was trying to do, but for humanity. I don't know if I succeeded. There was white, fire, and then I was here.
[It's strange the way his heart aches. For all intents and purposes, Joshua is alive. Dion had only just reveled in his warmth, just as he can feel his own pulse within his chest. None of them were revenants, haunting this world. They lived and yet breathed. Yet the thought of Joshua's death serves to wound him all the same. He was the best of the three of them, after all. If anyone deserved to live on after all this suffering, it was him.
He tries to turn his mind from it, focusing instead on Clive. He nods to the man's right arm, struggling to keep his tone even. He's noticed how the man fails to use it, despite knowing it to be his dominant limb.]
It seems you were not without your own injuries. [He sits back within his chair and glances up toward the ceiling.] And so we all suffered, and naught a guarantee of our success.
[He thinks of Kihel, and then to Terence. What world did they now find themselves in? Were they gripped by the continued despair brought by the ruined land around them? Or had they found new hope for the future?
[ Joshua watches as Clive continues the story, as he was unable to do so himself. He hates to see the pain there, knows that just the memory of it is killing his brother, but they have to talk about it, if only just this once.
But when Dion's attention turns to Clive's hand, it's his turn to grimace as the pain takes him. That one, despite not truly being his fault... ]
Clive's hand is... from here. From a death here. The price that was paid to return to life.
[ He rubs the handle of his mug with his thumb. Like Clive with his death, he doesn't like to think about this one. It's Clive's tale to tell, if he wants it. Not that it hasn't already been half-told. ]
[ Dion pointing it out makes Clive shift, bring his left hand over to dig into the edge of the glove he wears on his right to pull it down. Just enough to show the flesh giving way to stone. Then he smooths it back down and shrugs his shoulder gently.
Reach out to take his brother's shoulder and squeeze it, gentle, before dropping his hand. ]
There is truly no rest for the wicked.
[ He doesn't want to talk about it so, sorry Dion, he won't. He does study the Dragoon though, thoughtful. He doesn't know if the other is suffering any of the curses affects like the others were. Cid, Jill, Joshua. So he asks, his voice soft. ]
[From a mile away, Dion can see that Clive doesn't want to talk about it. As someone with his own baggage better left unclaimed, he gets it. He doesn't push the matter, instead making a note to himself that death seems to be little more than an inconvenience here. Perhaps he'll ask someone else for further details at a later date. He has no intention of leaving this conversation at the moment, though.]
I ache, of course, but that is to be expected after all I have endured. [He motions vaguely with his left hand. The right is still bandaged to high hell. They need not know of the extent of his injuries, or how the draw of aether had begun to eat at him. Perhaps they did not have the same expectations of him as those who came before, but it was ever a hard habit to break.]
In time, I suspect the bodily injury will begin to fade.
[To say nothing of the mental, which he carefully avoids. He'll respect their boundaries, but he expects the reverse to be the case as well. They all have their wounds, and they'll all lick them in peace.]
[ Joshua suspects that they all have some mental injury from what they've been through, honestly. It isn't as easy to heal as a physical wound. It will take time, and even then, it may not... But it isn't his place to ask about another's mental injuries.
Physical, however, is a different story. Not only is he the Phoenix, the only Eikon capable of healing, but here in the Grove, he works at the clinic. ]
Bodily injury will fade faster with treatment.
[ He glances at Clive, because he knows. He knows his brother will protest. But he doesn't have to use his magic to heal wounds. He turns back to Dion, leaning forward a bit to rest his mug on the table. ]
I am trying to avoid using my magic unless it is absolutely necessary, but I help at the clinic here. We have salves, bandages. If you are injured, I would be glad to treat your wounds. It is a far sight better than waiting and risking infection.
[ Clive knows that look and he bristles, but also knows his brother and honestly, he can't argue against him. So he sighs heavily and gestures with his hand as if to say do what you must, giving him a fond little look after. ]
Joshua is right. I know you wish to atone, and I know you think you deserve the injuries and the pain, but it doesn't help anyone to let your injuries fester. Least of all yourself.
[ He remembers you turning down the flower, Dion. Remembers your words to him, his voice soft. ]
Remember what I told you, your Highness? What Harpocrates told you?
[ He glances up to Dion, crooks a little smile at him. ]
Remember your resolve. Why you're moving forward. Let yourself be cleansed of at least the physical.
[Dion opens his mouth, but words fail to follow. He looks between the two men, kind to him despite all he's done, and then closes it once more. He looks down at his lap, unsure how to untangle the mess of emotion in his chest. He is grateful, even if he deeply wishes to push the outpouring away. He doesn't deserve them.]
Fear not... [His voice comes out soft, perhaps hard to hear over the din of the tavern.] I am tending to myself with some poultices that a dear friend gave me.
[He doesn't admit that he's been remiss to apply them. It isn't just his own lack of self-preservation. They are a dear gift to him, and to use the last of it would mean that tie was gone, likely forever.]
Still, I will do my best to remember to visit the clinic here and there. [He glances upward, now a touch sly.] Though only if you two continue to do the same.
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sticksandbones2025-01-03 12:00 pm
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Nevertheless, he does ponder a second drink as he realizes he's being watched. He doesn't dare turn to give them attention, at least not right away. Logically he knows that he is but a stranger in this land. Nevertheless, he's grown far too used to the hateful stares of those who have suffered at his hand. He knows better than to cast a desperate look their way.
Yet while he anticipates words — angry and vile words — he does not expect those in particular. Nor does he expect the familiar timbre of Clive Rosfield's voice. He fights the urge to whip his head around, forcing a more gentle, relaxed turn as he regards the other man.]
Heavy? Not so. [He shakes his head, before his gaze falls to the floor.] I would not debase myself in such a way. And certainly not in an unfamiliar land with unfamiliar faces.
[He pauses, just for a moment.]
Mostly unfamiliar faces, that is to say. I did not expect to come across you of all people, Ifrit.
no subject
[ Give him a second Dion as he orders his own mug, then moves to take it and himself over properly to sit at the table with him, setting his mug down carefully. ]
Clive. Please. We brought down a God together, I think we can use first names.
[ He raises his mug a little and takes a few swallows, leaning back in his chair before answering. ]
And I didn't expect to see you. As you probably already know, this isn't Valisthea. Nor are we anywhere in our own world, really. How much have you learned since your arrival?
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That expression wavers the moment Clive sits. It isn't his presence that rattles Dion, though, but rather what the man has to say. His eyes narrow in the slightest, but he keeps silent as the other man continues. Only once the silence between them touches on the slightest bit uncomfortable does he let out a low exhale.]
Too much, and yet not enough. [The corner of his mouth twitches downward.] You said we felled a god. Am I to believe your mission was successful, then?
[The last he recalled, he had managed to take Ultima by surprise. It was an optimistic sign, perhaps, but Dion had long since seen his hope dashed against the Sanbrequois stones. He would need far more to believe that the beast had been felled.]
no subject
So he's willing to give Dion the time he needs here, without pushing him.
When Dion finally finds his words, Clive inclines his head and sets his mug back down. ]
It was. Ultima is no more. Whatever comes next for our world will be painful, but our people are free. As for this world... Forgive me for not saying anything just yet. I'm waiting for someone. I'm sure you'll find his words must easier to take than mine.
no subject
But what he sees when he walks through the door isn't anything he could have expected. Joshua pauses in the doorway, eyes slowly widening with the realization of the situation dawning on him.
"Do I address a ghost?", Dion had asked him, once. Now he's the one left wondering.
But Clive wouldn't have called him here for a ghost. ]
Dion!
[ The prince may be sitting, but that does nothing to stop Joshua from all but skipping across the floor to scoop up the other man in a tight hug. Sorry, Dion. At least it only lasts a few seconds, and Joshua is pulling away again, beaming like the midday sun. ]
You're alive...! When did you--?
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the door opens, pulling Dion from his swiftly derailing thoughts. He doesn't turn to it, but instead shifts his eyes to the side. Even in his periphery, he recognizes Joshua Rosfield. Despite himself, he finds himself rising, easily meeting the embrace he knows is coming.
Joshua has always radiated warmth. It's a boon of being the Phoenix, or so Dion has long assumed. Nothing proved this more than the embraces they had shared across the many moons of their separate journeys. Yet now more than ever, he finds himself treasuring the radiance that comes off of him. It soothes a part of his soul that has remained chilled since awakening in this realm. Long had he wondered what had befallen his allies, after all. It was no secret that Joshua was ailing. Dion himself was well aware that the journey to Origin was like to be his last.
The fact, then, that both men stood tall fills him with no small amount of relief. Not that he'll admit as much aloud, of course.]
So many questions, Phoenix. [The corner of his lips tips upward just the slightest bit. It lasts only a second, before he returns to business.] I have been here naught more than a day or so. Long enough to realize just how out of place I am.
[He steps back, regarding the siblings almost sternly. A closer glance, however, might just barely show the faintest sparkle of mirth within his eyes.]
Would that I had known you were both here. It surely would have answered my questions. Trouble always seems to find you, I have learned.
no subject
A day... So long enough to get the basics, but left in the dark on everything else. They'll be able to fill him in, for as much as they know.
The stern look makes him snort in return, he sees that sparkle Dion, and he gestures with his left hand, a little shrug of his shoulder. ]
Would you believe me if I said for once, this has nothing to do with us?
[ He doesn't dispute the fact trouble seems to find them, as they both are sort of now neck deep in everything. He sighs a little, and gestures for Dion to take a seat again, using his foot to push a chair out for his brother as well. ]
Another round?
no subject
He nods to Clive in thanks, taking the seat that he'd pushed out and neatly folding himself into it. ]
A drink would be wonderful.
[ But his eyes keep going back to Dion, and he can't help the smile that stays on his lips. Founder, it's so good to see him alive and well. The last time he'd seen him, he'd feared - no, known - the worst. That Dion sacrificed himself so that they may have a chance. And yet here he is, hale and whole, as though nothing ever happened.
The same had happened to him, though, hadn't it? Clive had said that the wound he had suffered as a result of Ultima leaving his body had claimed his life, and yet here he is, without Ultima, uninjured and whole. If Dion had also been brought from the point of his death...
No. That is a question for later, not for happy reunions. ]
In fact, it seems more that we have found trouble in coming here. This place... It is in danger. A fallen god means to see the end of the people here, and he will use all manner of underhanded tactics to ensure that it is done.
[ His smile fades as he speaks. ]
Even turning us against each other. Corrupting us, using us.
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Something had changed.
He asks no questions, says nothing until Clive has seated himself. He does stare unflinchingly at Joshua, still trying to parse out what had shifted. It's only once their conversation begins in earnest that his thoughts turn elsewhere. The tension in his shoulders, ebbed slightly by presence of Joshua, begins to return. His shoulders square, and his hands clench at the table.]
It sounds like a tale I have heard before. [He thinks of Ultima, his quest to purge Valisthea. Nausea threatens to flood him as images of the Akashic, corrupted and used as weapons, enter his mind.]
Clive said that Ultima had been purged. So what manner of form does this god take?
no subject
Not an all together unfamiliar one. It's the sibling of the Sun God here, Lady Beiwe, but it's become Corrupted by something and hates humans as a result. But rather than attempting to bring it's own race back, it simply wishes to torment us then kill us when it finally gets bored.
[ He'll accept his and Joshua's mugs and set them down, sliding one towards his brother, then settle himself comfortably again, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. And if he's pleased Dion actually uses his name, then he'll hold it for less serious times. ]
And unfortunately, it has a stronger desire to torment us than Ultima ever did. To Ultima, we were pieces of "Them" that gained freedom, and in the end we would be erased from history as we returned properly to our maker upon him remaking the world. This creature, however... It would rather our souls be erased complete.
[ He pauses to sip his drink, scowling into it to the memory of Joshua turning against him. ]
no subject
Instead, he takes his mug gladly as Clive sets it on the table for him, pulling it toward himself and cupping it in his hands, though he doesn't drink just yet. He folds one knee over the other, listening as Clive explains. ]
When we first arrived here, we aided a group in trying to make an assault on it while it slumbered during the winter months. It ended horribly. That... thing... It toyed with us, played with our minds, made us see things that weren't truly there. It killed some of us as though we were nothing.
[ The memory of it is still sour in his throat, even after all these weeks. He frowns down at his mug, pausing to take a sip, like the drink will wash the taste from his mouth. ]
It took control of me and corrupted me. Set me upon Clive. And I will never forgive it for that.
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Not that he particularly likes what he hears. He'd thought Ultima and his scheming bad enough. Yes, Dion had suffered by his machinations, but never physically so. And in the end, all of his actions could only be tied to himself, rather than his hand being forced. This seemed far worse.]
So there is to be no rest for the deceased, then. [A wry smile works over his lips, brief though it might be. He shouldn't be surprised. Fool he was for believing that his death might end his troubles. Thousands had died by his hands, after all. Surely he would have to suffer an equal amount of ends before he could rest.
Still, anger does grip him when Joshua speaks of his own troubles, one that pairs with concern.]
You would do well to be more careful. I cannot imagine that whatever corruption plagued you plays well with - [Dion stops short, however. His eyes fall to the spot on Joshua's chest that once was marred so deeply by Ultima's grip. He can't quite tell if the mark still lingers, but something about how Joshua's presence had shifted gives him the answer he needs.]
Ultima's curse. It no longer plagues you here.
[It's not a question.]
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None whatsoever, I'm afraid. Such is our fate as Dominants.
[ But then, Dion's observation catches him off guard. He'd noticed? His eyebrows raise, and he catches that look towards his chest. He'd once shown Dion the mark, of course he would know where it was. Bundled as he is against the chill, it's difficult to see the scar that remains there now, but the difference in his aether, perhaps... ]
... Ultima... left my body, shortly before I came here. So I no longer suffer his presence.
[ What that entails about his body at home, though, it still pains him to say. Not because he cannot accept his own death, but because Clive had been witness to it, and he knows that it likely still plagues his brother's nightmares. How could it not? ]
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He doesn't want to think about it, he sees it nightly as is. ]
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Perhaps it would serve me well to know what happened after my demise.
[He doesn't shy away from this statement. There's no sense in pretending that he had not met his end within Origin. What he wants to — no, must know, is whether or not anyone else had.]
I can tell by the look upon your face, Ifrit, things did not go to plan. [And that leaves him to look to Joshua next. He'd had his fears from the first that the man would not make the journey, given his already fragile constitution. Their reactions did little to assuage those doubts.]
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Dion is right. He should know. Joshua inhales softly, resting his mug on his thigh, eyes focusing on the liquid within. ]
Over the years, after I had absorbed Ultima into my body at Drake's Head, I thought that my hold on him was failing as my body grew weaker. But I was wrong. It wasn't my hold that was weakening, but his strength that was growing.
Each Mothercrystal was nothing more than a fragment of Ultima, crystallized to bleed the land of its aether. I had only imprisoned one of many. And the more Mothercrystals that were shattered, the stronger Ultima became. And when we encountered him at Origin, when all of the fragments began to merge into one...
[ His nose wrinkles slightly at the memory of the pain. He doesn't want to go into explicit detail - it's already hard enough on Clive. ]
I don't recall anything after Ultima tore himself from my body. But Clive has told me that I did not survive the injuries sustained in the process.
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He did not. The wound was too great, there was too much damage.
[ He pauses, takes a drink, lifts his head and sets the mug down again. ]
He gave me the Phoenix, in the end. With it, with the help of everyone, I was able to defeat Ultima. I took him as well, used him and the Phoenix to try and heal Joshua.
[ He shakes his head, his eyes crinkling at the edges in pain to the memory of his brother's body. Healed, and lifeless. ]
In the end I cast the spell Ultima was trying to do, but for humanity. I don't know if I succeeded. There was white, fire, and then I was here.
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He tries to turn his mind from it, focusing instead on Clive. He nods to the man's right arm, struggling to keep his tone even. He's noticed how the man fails to use it, despite knowing it to be his dominant limb.]
It seems you were not without your own injuries. [He sits back within his chair and glances up toward the ceiling.] And so we all suffered, and naught a guarantee of our success.
[He thinks of Kihel, and then to Terence. What world did they now find themselves in? Were they gripped by the continued despair brought by the ruined land around them? Or had they found new hope for the future?
Silently, he prays to Greagor for the latter.]
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But when Dion's attention turns to Clive's hand, it's his turn to grimace as the pain takes him. That one, despite not truly being his fault... ]
Clive's hand is... from here. From a death here. The price that was paid to return to life.
[ He rubs the handle of his mug with his thumb. Like Clive with his death, he doesn't like to think about this one. It's Clive's tale to tell, if he wants it. Not that it hasn't already been half-told. ]
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Reach out to take his brother's shoulder and squeeze it, gentle, before dropping his hand. ]
There is truly no rest for the wicked.
[ He doesn't want to talk about it so, sorry Dion, he won't. He does study the Dragoon though, thoughtful. He doesn't know if the other is suffering any of the curses affects like the others were. Cid, Jill, Joshua. So he asks, his voice soft. ]
How are you feeling?
[ More than just the mental. ]
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I ache, of course, but that is to be expected after all I have endured. [He motions vaguely with his left hand. The right is still bandaged to high hell. They need not know of the extent of his injuries, or how the draw of aether had begun to eat at him. Perhaps they did not have the same expectations of him as those who came before, but it was ever a hard habit to break.]
In time, I suspect the bodily injury will begin to fade.
[To say nothing of the mental, which he carefully avoids. He'll respect their boundaries, but he expects the reverse to be the case as well. They all have their wounds, and they'll all lick them in peace.]
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Physical, however, is a different story. Not only is he the Phoenix, the only Eikon capable of healing, but here in the Grove, he works at the clinic. ]
Bodily injury will fade faster with treatment.
[ He glances at Clive, because he knows. He knows his brother will protest. But he doesn't have to use his magic to heal wounds. He turns back to Dion, leaning forward a bit to rest his mug on the table. ]
I am trying to avoid using my magic unless it is absolutely necessary, but I help at the clinic here. We have salves, bandages. If you are injured, I would be glad to treat your wounds. It is a far sight better than waiting and risking infection.
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Joshua is right. I know you wish to atone, and I know you think you deserve the injuries and the pain, but it doesn't help anyone to let your injuries fester. Least of all yourself.
[ He remembers you turning down the flower, Dion. Remembers your words to him, his voice soft. ]
Remember what I told you, your Highness? What Harpocrates told you?
[ He glances up to Dion, crooks a little smile at him. ]
Remember your resolve. Why you're moving forward. Let yourself be cleansed of at least the physical.
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Fear not... [His voice comes out soft, perhaps hard to hear over the din of the tavern.] I am tending to myself with some poultices that a dear friend gave me.
[He doesn't admit that he's been remiss to apply them. It isn't just his own lack of self-preservation. They are a dear gift to him, and to use the last of it would mean that tie was gone, likely forever.]
Still, I will do my best to remember to visit the clinic here and there. [He glances upward, now a touch sly.] Though only if you two continue to do the same.
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But if Dion is using them, it's better than nothing. He will let it slide, for now. ]
Worry not. I am at the clinic most days, anyway. But I assure you, we are in very capable hands. And I do hope to see you when your poultices run out.
[ Joshua gives Dion a smile. Not a threatening or menacing one, just a smile. He knows that's all he needs to give.]
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