[ closed ] your spirit is wild and your suffering is brief

[judgmentbolts]

Who: Cid & Friends & Evil Exes
When: October/November catch-all
Where: Nocwich & Free Cities
What: Event stuff + an eikon battle in Nocwich & the aftermath
Warnings: Standard FF16 content warnings may apply - references to systemic violence and oppression, fantasy dehumanization, fantasy slavery (based exclusively on whether or not the character bears magical abilities), genocide, abuse (physical/emotional), neglect, trauma, and violence. Likely nothing explicit but we're covering the bases here.

Comments

[ancunin]

[ His expression screw up at the mention of turning, and his face seems to blanch to an even paler shade of white, his skin taking on more blue and purple undertones, his eyes flashing red again. There's no question, his fear of transformation is far greater than drowning in the ocean, but the odds of him manning a ship - even a small vessel - on his own and surviving?

He has always been one to freeze, not flee, to his own detriment.

Astarion doesn't scoff back at him when he says I can't just leave. He stares at him for a long moment, uncertain, whatever scraps of bravado he'd been clinging to on their mad dash to this village has been shredded in his desperate grasp. ]

You can, and you should. Because I am not mad yet, and I need you alive to get out of here! Not traipsing off on some guilt-fueled suicide attempt... [ he glares at Cid, eyes flashing with fear again ] - I want to live! And I won't - I can't be turned, I won't end up like them...

[ His speech peters off into more panicked rambling, only interrupted by noises just outside the cottage door. ]

[judgmentbolts]

He won't kill me, he still has a use for— [ Cid interrupts, but he stops himself as Astarion dissolves into rambling. It wasn't a good argument to begin with. If he was older and wiser, perhaps he'd even realize how it sounded, self-involved and self-important, so sure of his own foolishness. Useful, like a pawn in a game.

Astarion doesn't deserve to die for his ideals, but it has always been easy for Cidolfus to talk himself into making sacrifices for some greater good. How many friends had he led to their deaths, and for what? How many ordinary people have died already, just as terrified as Astarion, just was desperate to live?

His head snaps up in time to see that there's something off about the shade of Astarion's skin, an odd flash of colour in his eyes. He can't be turning already, can he? He's so pale, it's almost as if he's already... ]

Astarion, look — [ Cid gets up, intending to make an attempt to calm him, but the scraping outside the door seems to startle them both into silence.

He draws his sword slowly and risks a glance out the window. It seems their respite is over. Cid moves in front of the door, sword at the ready as the scraping becomes banging, violent and uncontrolled. ] There's not many. Stay close to me, just like before, yeah?