[ 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

sorry for the wait! ;;

[princeofruin]

[Dion's plans for his trip to Nocwich had been nothing unusual. He was painting even more as of late, so a purchase of some new pigments to experiment with was in order. He had all the intention of sending a message to Claude to see his interest in spending another few nights under Nocwich's sky -- a sky he once felt only unease under, in this neverending darkness, that he now looks upon companionably. It was there, after all, the first time he and Claude opened their hearts. It has been there for so many of their meetings, in fact, that it's somehow turned to something familiar, even hopeful.

Not a thing Dion ever thought to look for in darkness.

It is perhaps that very thing that has lowered his defenses. When once Dion looked for suspicion in all men, he now finds only issue with the monarchy, with their unending wiles and false appeals to men's hearts. Nocwich is an escape from that. He buries trepidation inside of him. This feeling, once familiar, that something has gone terribly wrong.

There is no further plan, when Dion follows the strange, dark tug of aether inside him, without fully realizing he is following it all. When his eyes alight upon Barnabas, there is no further thought. All of the seasons he has endured, the life he has only just carved out for himself, the very belief he may yet earn opportunity beyond the limits of his anger --

It is gone in an instance.]

You. [It is all Dion manages, growled out, snarled, between clenched teeth. It matters not that years have passed since he last lost to the Eikon of Darkness. Since he last took to the air and felt the brush of that blade. To Dion, in that moment, in his weakness, Barnabas and Ultima are the same. They are the blood on his father's vestments, the broken body of a child who never existed. They are the shattering of the Mothercrystal, the destruction of Twinside. They are the mother he has never known, torn from him in a world twisted by darkness.

Dion's scream is anguished, the only alert to Nocwich that danger has come, his eyes, brown, sparking to a frenzied, molten gold. Bahamut roars, claws, spits his way to the surface, and there is nothing of Dion left. There is just the King of Dragons, talons carving the ground as he springs from it, wings snapping open with a roar. Light builds around Bahamut as he lifts to claw Barnabas in two, his entire being instilled with nothing but hate, a feral thirst for some balm to his pain.]

[obscuris]

[ Cidolfus Telamon.

Another ghost come to haunt him. His powers had returned to him somehow, aether filling his veins as surely as his blood did, and with it came that telltale prickle of awareness that denoted the presence of another dominant. However, for the longest time he hadn't been sure, couldn't tell whether the buzzing in his head had been real or a long lost memory. Too full of debris. Too full of people who weren't there. Hearing their voices when he woke as surely as when he slept, and when he woke again he'd been nowhere near where he had originally laid his head.

And now that he can finally hold his own thoughts in his head again he has come to realise that this particular ghost of his is here to stay. He can't say he ever considered what he would do if confronted with Cidolfus again—

No, that is a falsehood. He's always known exactly what he would do with Cidolfus, what steps to take, what words to say, how best to apply pressure in order to get him to fold. Cidolfus had had something that his master had needed, and so it had been Barnabas' duty to see that he fell in line, one way or the other.

That both of them would be here in the aftermath... that Barnabas had not foreseen. There is, of course, one very simple way to find out, and that perhaps might even be the reason he is here right now. Except— ]

You.

[ It's guttural, barely human. Barnabas turns, knowing without knowing exactly who he will find there. Aether howls into being around Bahamut, something desperate and wild, and Barnabas feels the corners of his mouth kick up into a smile.

After Bahamut had done his part, Barnabas can't say he ever gave much thought to him again. The boy had broken spectacularly, had shattered so perfectly that maneuvering him had been something of a lark. Child's play. He had played his role beautifully in tempering his master's vessel but it does look as though Bahamut does not share the sentiment.

Unfortunately, Bahamut does not leave them time for words. He primes, and then he attacks. Barnabas steps away from his claws, through folded space until he lands just out of reach, and then sighs and lets go.

Priming again after so long feels like movement after the thaw, like waking sleeping muscles. He had half wondered if he would see Sleipnir again like this, but even without him he is more than enough. ]

Do you perhaps think you will land upon a different outcome this time? [ He charges aether along his blade, and with an almost careless movement, splits the air with it, sending it careening towards Bahamut. ] The definition of insanity. Though some will say that it fits.

[judgmentbolts]

[ Cid isn't there for the first clash, though he feels the impact even malms away, the shockwaves alone whipping up a wind that nearly knocks him on his arse. If they fight over land, it'll tear Nocwich apart, and that's just to start.

That's it, then. He's out of time.

Cid hasn't tried to prime since his arrival, and deliberately so, but when he reaches for his Eikon, Ramuh is waiting. It doesn't matter that Cid had given him over to Clive all those months ago; he belongs to the two of them now, it seems. Together, then.

Cid's arrival is preceded by the darkening of Nocwich's eternal night, the gathering of storm clouds blotting out the moon and stars. A bolt of levin arcs down between Odin and Bahamut, aiming to drive them back toward the sea — toward Ramuh, who waits hovering over the water. ]

Barnabas! [ Cid speaks directly into their minds, in the manner of all Eikons. Thunder rumbles, levin flashing as it wreathes his form. ] Hasn't Clive killed you already? Let's get you back before that god of yours gets lonely in the grave.

[ It's not bait so much as it is an invitation; one that he suspects Barnabas will be disinclined to refuse. If he can get Odin's attention, Bahamut will soon follow. Cid will need him, if they're to have any hope of finishing what he's started. ]

covers the age of this tag

[princeofruin]

[Insanity is enough if it gets him what he needs. With such a stark reminder of all he has lost -- and it is surely everything -- what has he to gain except blood through revenge? He was never in a position to kill Ultima, to give the animal exactly what it deserved. He could only bear Clive to do it in his stead. But now, without the temperance the Phoenix could provide, or the brutal force Ifrit could use to stop him, he is alone. The blood of Ultima's sycophant will satisfy all the same, until he wipes every world clean of the remainder of those who helped the god destroy their world. (His world. His family.)

If the dragon hears the taunts, he does not respond, so focused on his goal. The cut through the air slices right through the tip of his wing, and for a moment he is falling, pumping to keep himself aloft with one wing, until the second heals and he catches the air again with an earsplitting screech.

The clatter of lightning mere yalms away from him does not change his focus. Aether builds in his forearms, all three of his eyes focused on Odin, on the dark surging from his form. A darkness that can only be obliterated with true light, not lightning, not nature's ill parody.

That the burst of light that Bahamut releases does not only fire towards Odin, but Ramuh beyond him, splitting into multiple missiles of aether formed to explode upon impact, speaks exactly to where Dion's mind is now.

Lost. Again.]

[obscuris]

[ The attack hits and the beast falters for a moment and the only thing that prevents Barnabas from finishing it is the levin that crashes down between them. Between one heartbeat and the next Ramuh is there, presence a familiar pressure like a storm threatening to break. He speaks, and Barnabas allows his attention to waver.

He had not thought he would see Ramuh again. He never did get to see Cidolfus again before the end, see him burn up— burn out, consumed by Mythos, for all he felt his aether snuff out. He had not thought Cidolfus would ever prime again. Well. Not while keeping such a firm hold of himself, but Cidolfus does exist to flaunt the rules.

In fact, this whole situation could almost be familiar. If not for the interloper. Aether boils up in front of him like a volcano preparing to blow, an insistent reminder of Bahamut's presence, and Barnabas' attention is pulled back to him. He has only a second to glimpse him: wings arched, searing, blinding light building until it blots out all else, and then it is streaking towards him, screaming through the air. Barnabas sends another look over his shoulder towards Ramuh. ]

It seems to me that you may have other problems, Cidolfus.

[ Shadows wreathe his form, swallowing him up only to spit him back out over the water, out of the line of fire. ]