The Path to Sin (Ikken Isshu + Griselda Banks)

[Ikken Isshu]

((I think a pirate plan is necessary to really continue; it wouldn't make any sense for us to just haphazardly throw pirates at the ship, so I think I'll come up with a plan for the pirates to be following in their assault.

Extra note halfway through typing this post: This is a very long post, and a lot of things happen, so feel free to add your own simultaneous events. Otherwise, the entire battle would go by with only my characters acting, which wouldn't make any sense.

Extra extra note almost done writing the post: I'll still use the characters I created for the reconciliation scene in Kilika, but I found a better opportunity for the reconciliation itself to happen here, so I'll take advantage of it.))

Calaman bit back a curse at Eddora's orders - after all, she was the summoner - and grudgingly hefted his sword in acknowledgment of the order.

"May I ask," he said with some exasperation, "that you at least avoid putting yourself in too much danger, Lady?"

As if on cue, the other guardian approached and made his pitch, interrupted hotly by Eddora, who was in turn followed by the lurch of the ship. Shouting, Aer ran - Idiot, Calaman thought - to lean over the edge of the ship, staring out at the water.

"They're sending in longboats full of swordsmen!" he called back. "And it looks like that mage wasn't the only one - there's one in each boat!"

He stumbled back when the ship lurched again, fortuitously in the opposite direction, else Aer might have gone over the edge. Calaman looked to Kenan, deciding that his earlier assessment of the man was more or less accurate: This was a skilled fighter. As long as they fought on the same side, Calaman did not need to worry about anything Kenan undertook to do. Aer was not such a certainty; he'd only ever seen the man perform one spell, and he hadn't been using it for battle. Eddora... he had no idea. She'd said that she could fight, but he wouldn't be sure as to the extent of her skill until he saw her in battle. And seeing her in battle - and thus risking her safety, something he was sworn to protect - was the last thing he wanted to do just now.

A series of large streaks of fire arced over the ship, most of them narrowly missing the sails, while one cannoned straight through the mainmast. The impact wasn't enough to break the mast, but some of the small subsequent explosion of fire caught on one of the sails, which promptly went up in flames. Aer spun, wordlessly put his hands together at the heel, and aimed them at the burning sail...

...And changed. Calaman stared, momentarily dumbstruck, as the black mage's countenance darkened. He looked like a man about to do murder, and, simultaneously, like a man who had just witnessed the murder of a loved one. As if he stares into the most horrifying depths of the Farplane, Calaman thought, and means to do battle with it.

It seemed to Calaman to last a lifetime. Aer's expression fell to that dark look; his robes whisked around him as if he stood in the midst of a mad gale; his mouth moved silently, and his fingers worked as though playing an invisible stringed instrument of some sort; and then, after what couldn't have been more than a second, he roared, and the sound washed over everything. An impossibly-wild rush of water surged forth from the junction between Aer's hands. At first, it raced past the burning sail, missing, but Aer corrected its path by simply moving his hands, and the sail was doused. Tattered pieces of cloth were torn from the sail and carried by the torrent into the ocean. Aer let the water flow until all traces of the fire were gone, and then he let his hands part, and the water ceased to flow.

The sail had three fair-sized black-rimmed holes, and the bottom had detached itself from the mast, allowing the sail to flap in the breeze. Otherwise, it was unharmed. It would be repaired easily, assuming it suffered no more damage throughout the battle.

Aer stared at the sail for a few seconds, then turned around. His skin was slightly paler, his eyes a little tight around the edges, his mouth a grim line. Otherwise, he showed no signs of fatigue.

Calaman hastily reassessed his opinion of the sorcerer.

There was little time for congratulations, though, because at that moment, the ship rocked violently again. Calaman saw grappling hooks soar over the edge of the ship, some of them falling back down - onto their owners, Calaman hoped - but most of them digging into the wood. The ropes pulled taut as the pirates began to climb. Calaman spared a glance to ensure that there was no immediate danger to Eddora, and rushed to the edge of the ship to begin hacking the ropes apart. He went from rope to rope, slicing them away from the ship, but there were too many, and more kept appearing. He saw, too, that some of the boats were continuing around to the other side of the ships. There would be pirates on all sides. How could there be so many?

He whirled and startled himself upon coming face-to-face with a pirate who had managed to board.

Calaman had heard things about battle. He had heard that it always began with a plan, but once an individual soldier went into it, it became a case-by-case thing, a mad surge of adrenaline encompassing all else. He'd also heard that, in battle, his original plan would become more distant and unimportant, while he would find himself focusing entirely on the more immediate goal of preserving his own life while denying the enemy of his.

He'd heard other things, horrifying things, about the aftermath of battle - but he would not let himself think on that now. There were enemies about.

Using the adrenaline surge from the startlement of seeing the pirate, Calaman swung around him in a macabre mimic of his first meeting with Eddora. He put his sword - instead of his arm - across the man's chest, and ripped it back. The blade sliced through the pirate's thin cotton shirt, gouged into flesh. Calaman could feel, through the pommel, the grate of metal against bone. With the efficiency of a trained warrior, he whirled the man around, plunged his sword into the man's belly, flicked a dagger from its arm holster, and sliced the man's throat. Quick, if a bit messy. But the horrified expression in the man's eyes as he fell, Calaman knew suddenly, would haunt him forever. Clumsily he sheathed his sword, stared down at the body.

His first kill.

The man hadn't had a chance, Calaman realized. He'd been just as startled at seeing Calaman as Calaman had been at seeing him; he simply hadn't recovered as fast.

Another pirate shouted his way into Calaman's reverie.

"Draw your weapon, stranger!" the man bellowed, hefting a large sword that Calaman thought quite inappropriate for a man of such small stature - and an Al Bhed, no less.

He didn't know why he had sheathed his sword, but he didn't remember drawing it a second time. Nor, in fact, did he remember what he shouted back at the pirate, though he remembered shouting something. He remembered the smell of salt water, and the metallic smell - taste? - of blood. He remembered something hot and wet splashing across his face, and he remembered thinking, Messy. That was messy. I must be more careful.

((This might be a little clumsy, because I'm retyping the post after accidentally losing it. I'll try to rework it appropriately, though.))

He remembered ducking the wild slash of a third pirate, remembered his sword again piercing flesh. He remembered a rush of violence, of pirate after pirate falling to his blade. He remembered face after face after face, clean-shaven, bearded, awash with greed, awash with rage, awash with blood, piercing into his soul, piercing into his heart, pierced straight through the forehead with a red-streaked short sword. He remembered thinking that it was like a dance, and that he was at the center of it - but he didn't want to be the center of it. He saw, at the edges of his consciousness, other men fighting other men, but it seemed that the vast majority of them came for him. Impossible. Illogical. But there they were, one and then another and then another. How could there be so many?

After what seemed, again, like an eternity, a pirate fell to Calaman's blade, and he hefted it to defend himself against another - but there was no other. By the prow, two men still struggled. The pirate was thrust over the edge, falling with a scream to the ocean below, and silence descended over the ship.

Calaman swayed precariously on his feet. He needed water. He tried to count the bodies around him. Fifteen? Sixteen? Had he killed all of these around him, or had there been other men helping him? How could he have killed so many? How could there have been so many?

He had only a tenuous grasp on his surroundings, now. For a time, it seemed he was alone in the universe, alone except for the bodies scattered around him. And then even those would fade, and he would be left with only this corpse, or that one, or this pool of blood, or that severed limb, or those entrails, spilt when he opened a man's belly.

His gorge rose, and he shook his head slowly. He needed water. Fifteen, sixteen - too many. Too many, dead on my blade.

Suddenly Aer was there, walking out of the haze. He was going from body to body, doing a cursory search of each before moving on to the next. He was searching for - what? Valuables? He didn't seem the type to rob the dead. Spying Calaman, Aer straightened and approached. Calaman counted three bodies that Aer had to step over to cross the distance of seven paces. Too many. Too many.

The black mage's skin was chalky, his eyes seeming unfocused. His hands, even hanging at his sides, were shaking badly.

"Calaman?" he said. He sounded for all the world like his usual self, if a little tense.

"How many?" Calaman asked dully.

"What?"

"How many did you kill?"

Aer's face fell, and he looked down at a body that lay between Calaman and himself. "Too many," he said quietly, in an eerie echo of Calaman's thoughts. "The boats, some of them, I... Every one that sank, all of the men in it..." He looked back up to Calaman's face, and for the barest of instants, Calaman was struck by whatever passed between them. Kindred, he thought blankly. We are kindred. We're not different at all. But, out of habit, he suppressed the thought.

"Calaman?"

He opened his eyes. He hadn't realized he'd closed them. His sword was impossibly heavy; he let it drop. It splashed into a bizarrely thick pool of blood, splattering the cold fluid across his legs and clanging loudly across the deck.

"Calaman, are you all right?"

The haze encroached over everything, again, except for Calaman and the blood on his hands - the blood all over him. He'd bathed in it, it seemed, and while he shied away from the blood on the deck, he could not shy away from that on his own body. A horrible fear gripped him, the fear of night terrors, the fear that wakes small children in the middle of the night, screaming with voiceless throats until they find their voices and summon their parents with hysterical shrieks. Calaman wrapped his arms around himself and shivered despite the balmy air, drew breath, and forced it through his contracted throat. He could not scream. The blood was on his hands, his arms, his face, his legs. The deaths of he knew not how many men were on his shoulders, pushing him down, down, down - and he could not scream. He could not scream. He could not scream.

He screamed.

The haze wavered. He remembered falling forward, remembered a startled expression on Aer's face, remembered being caught in arms clothed in blue cloth that was black with blood, remembered the feel of the cold, wet fabric against his face. He remembered Aer's urgent shout for help.

And he remembered darkness.

((Apologies for such a long post, but I got on a roll, and... well. Aer's still free for the duration of the battle, so long as he sinks a few boats, as is everyone else. I made sure to isolate Calaman in his own little nightmare, so that everyone else is free to do as we please during the battle, so long as a) they don't interact with Calaman, and b) Aer spends at least some of his time sinking pirate longboats.))  

[Griselda Banks]

((Dude, that post was a masterpiece in terms of roleplay posts heart Of course rp posts aren't going to be anywhere near the quality of a book, simply due to the nature of a roleplay, but I haven't read anything so wonderful in any rp I've been in - well, save one with my best friend, who is simply amazing with words. Seriously, I loved your post and am extremely humbled by it. And I like your way of handling the battle, by doing the entire thing with just one of your characters, rather than doing a sort of blow-by-blow, drawn-out battle while taking turns with me. This is a good way to do big battles, I think.

So, is Calaman still going to save Aer's life in Kilika? Or was it Aer saving Calaman's life? confused

Okay, now it's my turn! It probably won't be anywhere near as good as yours, but here goes!))

"May I ask," Calaman asked exasperatedly, "that you at least avoid putting yourself in too much danger, Lady?"

Eddora was too busy arguing with Kenan to reply, but she heard his protest, and somewhere in the back of her mind thought, Oh, sure. As if I'd go snivelling into the hold while everyone else has all the fun. Then the boat rocked and she had to put a stop to her words and thoughts to keep her balance.

Even as Ed pulled on padded fingerless gloves to protect her knuckles, ropes of fire twisted through the air from the mages in the longboats. They set fire to one of the sails, but even as Ed briefly acknowledged this whole ship could catch fire from it, Aer cast a water spell of such power that it left her breathless, choking on the empty air as though she was under the water he sent in a torrent at the burning sail, extinguishing it. Ed gazed at Aer with much more appreciation than ever before. Certainly, he had told her of his magical prowess, but she had automatically assumed that was another gross exaggeration of his.

But Ed didn't even have time to nod her appreciation his way before the ship rocked as grappling hooks smashed into the side of the ship. Ed tensed, knowing the time had come for her to enter the fray. There was only time to share a glance with Calaman before he raced off to sever the ropes, and she to prepare for the pirates' attack. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Kenan cutting the ropes on the other end of the ship, but there were far too many pirates, far too many ropes.

Barely a moment later, the first pirate swung over the side of the ship, cutlass and pistol in hand. Eddora silently cursed the machina and the one who wielded it, then charged forward to meet him head-on. The pirate fired his gun at her, but she was expecting this and dodged to the side, lashing out with a foot at his head. The pirate crashed to the floor, knocked out cold, and Ed used her momentum to swing around and land several punches on the next pirate to swing aboard. She knocked his sword aside easily, then jabbed her elbow as hard as she could into his gut. He fell to the deck with a heavy thud and a grunt of pain.

Ed continued on to the next enemy, and the next, and the next, losing herself in the beautiful yet terrible dance of battle. Fifteen years of training made her movements fluid and certain, as she vaulted back onto her hands, kicking both legs up in a cartwheel to knock a pirate's weapon out of his hands, then swung herself around on the ground to knock him off his feet.

For a time, she floated in the strange flux of battle. It was comforting, for there was no need to think, nothing to worry about beyond her own body. There was no space in her mind that was not occupied by the wordless thoughts of her concentration on her arms, or her legs, or the shifting of her weight. She was aware, but only in a vaguely distant way, of the others fighting around her - Calaman over there, Kenan on that side, Yalan casting spells on the pirates from afar and Aer sinking the longboats. She had no idea how many men she had wounded, or killed - and she wasn't sure how many of each there were, either.

And then all time seemed to slow down, and she seemed to step outside of herself, watching in morbid fascination as her fist slammed into a pirate's cheek, snapping his head back with a horrid crack. She whirled around, kicking one man's legs out from under him, and smashed her foot onto his neck when he fell, breaking it. A pirate grabbed her arms from behind, but she grabbed his shoulders and vaulted him over the side of the ship, where he landed in the sea with a large splash.

There was no doubt in Eddora's mind anymore - she had killed each and every one of the men she had fought.

It took Ed a moment to realize that the battle was over. Adrenaline was still rushing through her limbs, and she had to remind herself twice that those who remained standing were her comrades. She remained in her fighting stance for a few moments longer, then gradually straightened, dropping her arms back down by her sides. The deck was covered with dead bodies and spilled blood - mostly pirates, but a few crew members as well, who had stayed on deck to help fight. Shoving down a wave of repulsion, Ed gingerly turned the nearest body over with the toe of her sandal. The blank eyes that stared up from his face were green, with swirling pupils.

((The pirates are Al Bhed, right?))

Suddenly, a scream ripped through the air and Ed instinctively crouched back down, her gaze whipping around for an enemy that had somehow escaped death. But then she saw the screamer wasn't an enemy at all. It was Calaman.

Ed began to move almost before her mind registered this, stumbling over bodies she couldn't see. Her eyes were glued to Calaman, who collapsed into Aer's arms. And even as Aer looked up and called for help, she was rushing up to his side and kneeling down beside him, since he had crouched down under Calaman's weight.

"Stupid boy," Ed muttered, brushing aside a few strands of dark hair to feel Calaman's forehead. "Fourteen is much too young." Her voice and face softened as she said this, and she gently took the boy from Aer's arms. "Come on," she said to him, though she hardly spared him a glance. "We've got to clean him up; I can't be sure what's his blood and what's not. Oh, and get his sword, won't you?" She struggled to her feet, arms straining to hold the boy (he was much heavier than he looked), and started towards the door that led to the hold.  

[Ikken Isshu]

((Yeah, they're Al Bhed, but they're also pirates, so there's a very real possibility that they may have recruited men of other races, so it's not that big of a concern.

And as for all the praise, I appreciate it, but give yourself some credit too, yeah? It's easier to make good RP posts when you have a good RP partner. And it helps that I've been writing for some ten odd years, and that I read like it's going out of style... razz

EDIT: I'm gonna color this one too, since there's lots of OOC intermissions. OOC is in dark red, while IC is in dark blue.

Without further ado, here's my five-page post. I included a little time-skip, but there's no reason we can't still do stuff during the same time frame.))

He was in a dark place, alone, naked, cold. Eyes - the eyes of fiends - stared at him from beyond the pall. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there, watching him, judging him, seeing him, hungering for him -

He lay in a pool of something, and with a dreadful certainty, he knew it was the blood of men - the men he’d killed aboard the ship. A shadow of the awful terror swept through him, and he convulsed, but he did not try to scream.

Instead, he let himself sink into the pool of blood, and he couldn’t breathe… but the eyes were gone. He let himself sink further and further down into the blood. Nothing could be worse than knowing that those fiends were watching him. Nothing. So he sank deeper. Impossibly deep, where it had been a puddle only moments before… The weight of the blood grew above him, like sinking deep into the ocean. The weight compressed his lungs, pushed the air out of him. He couldn’t breathe. The weight of the blood was crushing him.

But at least the eyes were gone.

~

((I just couldn’t hold myself back while writing this scene and had to follow it all the way through, so I hope it’s not a terrible problem that Ed isn’t present. (Or at the very least, isn’t saying anything here.) Perhaps she can be conferring with Yalan, or something of that sort, since no one could really know when Calaman would awake. I did make a few references to actions Eddora has apparently taken, but I thought they were vague enough that they didn’t really constitute Grand Theft Character. I hope you’ll agree, but if not, the post can be easily reworked.

By the way, can you spot the Shakespeare reference in the following post? blaugh ))

~

“I should’ve realized his age would end up being a problem sooner or later,” Aer was muttering. “It stands to reason that no matter how skilled he is, he’s not really all that experienced. He just hasn’t had time to go out and rack up a bunch of kills.”

“Mm,” came the smooth - smooth like oil, rather than silk - voice of the summoner Calaman remembered as Oebr. “And are you, my lord guardian and black mage, more experienced in the art of killing?”

Aer was silent. Calaman wanted to strike Oebr, but he couldn’t see the self-righteous prig. He couldn’t see anything, nor could he move, in fact. For a bizarre, horrified moment, he thought his eyes were covered in blood. Then he realized that he must have fainted, and he simply hadn’t recovered yet. He wondered at the strange paralysis he seemed to be suffering, but he was not yet conscious enough to dwell on it.

“I’ve killed before,” Aer said quietly, “but never on such a scale as I had to do today.”

“Murder?” breathed the female guardian of Oebr - Yachesa. She sounded like a girl eager to hear a bedtime story.

“Nothing so base as that,” Aer snapped. Calaman felt something warm and wet - Blood! he thought frantically - laid across his forehead.

“That warm cloth…” Yachesen began, and Calaman wasn’t surprised when his sister seemed to interrupt him.

“…won’t do…”

“…much good…”

“…for a man…”

“…who is in…”

“…good health.”

Aer huffed. “It won’t hurt anything, either. Is there a reason you’re showing such interest in the welfare of Lady Eddora’s guardian?”

Oebr’s tone was hurt, but Calaman suspected it was an act. “I am merely too full of the milk of human kindness. I did not expect that a further reason would be required.”

Again, the silence from Aer, but this silence was charged with irritation, rather than embarrassment.

“But,” Oebr continued, and Calaman could picture the man shrugging apologetically, “if it is your wish that I leave you alone with your charge, I will do so. Yachesen, Yachesa - come. There is yet work to be done if this ship is to survive the rest of the journey to Besaid.” A soft rustling of cloth, and then another long silence. This was yet another kind of silence - the silence of a solitary man, or at the least, a man who thought himself alone with his thoughts.

After a time, Calaman heard Aer move. He must be on a bed or cot, he decided, as feeling crept back into his body, and he sensed the sheets beneath him. There was a trickle from the cloth running sideways across his forehead. In a few seconds, it would reach his ear. The area was warm; he must be in one of the cabins. He tried to move, experimentally; he thought his toes curled, but he wasn’t certain. Clearly, nothing else moved.

“An insidious man, that one,” Aer muttered as if to Calaman. “D’you know, I’m sure he’s up to something. He’s got a look about him that makes it obvious he’s up to no good. I can’t for the life of me guess at what he wanted with you, though.” After a short pause, Aer snorted. “Overconfident pup that you are! You did a fine job in battle, but look what you put us through afterward! And you’d better thank Eddora, you know; this is her cabin.” He laughed. “Though I bet she’ll have you on the floor if you should still be abed by nightfall.”

“Water,” Calaman gasped. He’d been trying to say it for a short while now, but the word had finally emerged. “Water… Aer, water.”

There was a silence, and then a hasty shuffling. He felt hands maneuvering him into a half-sitting position, and then a flask was placed to his lips. Aer tilted the flask, and a slow trickle of water flowed into Calaman’s mouth. He worked his throat, and managed to swallow some of the water.

All of a sudden, his eyes opened. The room was not brightly lit, but he was dazed by the abrupt light nonetheless, and it took him a moment to recover. He lifted his arm, intending to take the flask, but his fingers felt large and thick, and he didn’t trust himself to hold the thing.

“What - happened?”

“You passed out,” Aer said, grinning. Calaman couldn’t tell what the grin meant. Mocking? Amusement? …Sympathy? “Killed yourself a bloody host of those damnable pirates, you did, but… As soon as the battle was over, I started searching the bodies like any good scumbag should. I spotted you, and came over to ask where Eddora was; seems she ran off and got herself a piece of the action, but I wasn’t there to see it. But before I could ask you, you started mumbling. Asked me how many men I’d… how many men I’d killed.” He’d paused because his voice had broken. He swallowed now, and continued. “Anyway, you passed out. Made a bloody scene of it, too, screaming like Sin itself was devouring you from the inside out. To be honest, for a second I thought some crafty pirate had shot you in the back.”

“That’s enough,” Calaman said, working his jaw to try and regain some ability to speak smoothly. “At least I know what happened after…” He shuddered. All of that blood. All of those bodies. Too many bodies. “…Aer?”

“Yeah?”

Calaman paused. He didn’t know why he wanted to ask, but the question would not rest inside him.

“How many men did I…?”

Aer shrugged. “I counted about…” He paused, watching Calaman for a second, then shrugged again. “Twelve. I counted about twelve pirates you might have killed. And two of them I’m doubtful about,” he added.

He was lying, and badly, but Calaman thought he preferred this answer to whatever the truth may be. At the very least, it told him one thing: Whatever had passed between them in the aftermath of the battle, it had secured a bond between them that was much closer than obligation - and much more genuine. With a start, he realized that the first clue of this had been present since he’d awoken: The mere fact that it was Aer watching over him while he lay unconscious. Eddora might have assigned Aer the task of course, but at least he didn’t seem to disdain it. Maybe this meant he and Aer would stop bristling at each other every time they made eye contact.

Calaman could hope.

“Thanks,” he said, both for the help and for the lie. He flexed his fingers and took the flask, tossing back another swallow of water. He worked his toes a little, decided he could stand, and swung his legs out over the floor. When he first stood, he stumbled. Aer put an arm across his chest and shook his head.

“You’re not getting up yet,” he said sternly. This tone, coming from Aer, made Calaman laugh so hard that he fell back onto the cot. Aer pushed him back down.

“I’m not watching over you for my health, you know,” Aer muttered. He reclined in his chair, sighing. “Eddora’s orders. Come to think of it, I should probably let her know you don’t need to be Sent just yet.” He started to get up, but Calaman lifted a hand to gesture for him to wait.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“You’ve said as much,” Aer told him a little wryly. “Don’t tell me you’re going senile as well as invalid?”

“a**,” Calaman laughed. “Go on, then, leave me here, sick and possibly dying -”

“Neither of which is even remotely true -”

“- to go and report to the Lady.”

Aer remained standing, but leaned against the doorframe, watching Calaman. “Why do you always call her ‘Lady?’ She’s not here, and neither is anyone else. I certainly don’t care what you call her, as long as it isn’t derogatory.”

“I don’t say ‘Lady’ out of obligation,” Calaman said with a shrug. “I say it out of respect.”

“Pah,” Aer said, but amiably. “Why give respect to someone that hasn’t earned it? I never call anyone ‘Lord’ or ‘Lady’ or ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’ unless they have earned that token of respect.”

“Not something I would expect of a noble,” Calaman said, his eyebrows rising in genuine surprise. “I thought your type heaped praise on anyone with the right amount of money.”

“My family hasn’t been a noble family for very long,” Aer said with a dry smile as he pushed himself off of the wall and turned back to the door, “so we still hold onto some morals, and one of those morals is that money isn’t everything. Social station, perhaps; power, probably; but money, no.”

“Well, you’ve earned my respect,” Calaman said, “sir.”

All Aer said before he left was, “And you mine, sir.”

Alone with his thoughts, Calaman marveled at what had happened. He had killed a handful of men - several handfuls, most likely, though he might never get an accurate count, now - and thus played a key part of saving the ship; he had forged a friendship of sorts with the one man who he would never have expected to befriend.

Now, all that was left was to recover enough to get out of this accursed bed.

~

((I was sorely tempted to continue this scene, but I figured that after five pages on Microsoft Works, I’d written enough; not to mention the fact that this is a pretty good stopping point; and also not to mention that after five pages, it would be outright rude to go any further without allowing you a chance to interrupt. blaugh

As far as the Shakespeare reference, if you still haven’t found it, I’ll give you a hint: It’s from Macbeth. biggrin

And since it's been a while, here's a snatch from Luseik's party! xd ))

~

Keskes jumped nearly a foot into the air as another thunderbolt crashed through the darkened sky. Satiyen growled softly, though no one knew just what at. Luseik huddled silently in his cloak, head bowed against the rain. Together, they pushed stubbornly through the Thunder Plains.

"What of Anna?" Keskes murmured to Satiyen, his voice shaky. The constant lightning and thunder was grating on his nerves, Satiyen could see. Pity bubbled deep within him, somewhere, but he ignored it.

"We have received no word. I suspect this is part of why Luseik has picked up the pace; he hurries not toward the pilgrimage, but toward Besaid."

Keskes frowned, jumped at another bolt, and shook his head quickly. "Is there any chance she's been hurt?"

Satiyen shrugged. "There is no way of knowing. We will find out when we get there, or sooner, should someone send us word."

Keskes yelped as a particularly loud crash of thunder roared through the Plains.

"Luseik may be looking forward to seeing his girl," he muttered, "but I'm looking forward to a nice, warm bed, a hot meal, and some bleeding peace and quiet."

"When you find it," Satiyen replied ominously, "enjoy it, because it will not last."

((And now, without further ado, I leave the RP in your capable hands, Lady. *bows*))  

[Griselda Banks]

((Well, the way the culture is going, it wouldn't be hard to believe that reading is going out of style stressed I think the quality of my posts, anyway, are largely dependent on my partner. I used to rp with this guy who would always one-line, and I ended up one-lining too. Then here I am with you, making this huge long post because of your huge long post. I personally prefer long posts to short ones, both to read and to write, but it's hard to write a long post when your partner's just doing one or two paragraphs.

And it's no problem that Eddora isn't present. I've got the perfect idea of what she can be doing right now, so no worries ^_^ And you are in no way stealing my character; it was your allusions to what Ed's doing that enabled me to decide what it was that she was doing xd Oh, and I have to say that I really enjoyed the scene between Aer and Calaman. Nice reconciliation, except I don't think that's the right word, since they never liked each other in the first place....

Unfortunately, I haven't read Macbeth, so I couldn't pinpoint the Shakespeare reference sweatdrop Care to enlighten an uncultured swine?

Warning: Much abstract-ness ahead!))

Eddora sat back on her heels for a moment to catch her breath and wipe away the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand. She dropped the rag back into the bucket of water, which had turned slightly pink, and wearily pulled herself to her feet. They had been working for who knew how long - hours, perhaps - to clean up the mess the pirates and defenders had made. The captain had assigned tasks to his crew members, and even though he had protested, Ed had pitched in as well. She wasn't sure which task was worse: swabbing the blood-stained deck, or wrapping every body up in a large white cloth to be gently lowered onto the ocean floor near the anchored ship. She had done both in the past few hours, until it seemed all the world consisted of was blood, dead men, and more blood. Always, always more blood.

Ed padded across the deck in her bare, dirty feet to where Yalan and Kenan stood talking. They had just finished with the last few corpses. As Ed reached them, she said, "We need to Send them now. Our time is almost up."

As one, they all glanced at the horizon, where the sun slowly sank into the waves like a ball of condensed, glowing blood. Some said (though others held this was only superstition) that the Unsent became fiends when the last rays of the sun sank below the horizon. Eddora wasn't about to take any chances.

"So, who's going to do it?" she asked when neither of the men said anything. She didn't know where that annoying man Oebr was, and the summoner Maryllis hadn't even been on deck for the fighting. Most likely gets sick to the stomach at the sight of blood, Ed thought with disdain. So it fell to the two remaining summoners: herself and Yalan.

"If...If it's all the same to you, I'd...rather not," Yalan muttered, still staring at the dying sun.

"Yalan," Kenan rumbled sternly, "it is the summoner's duty, his responsibility, to Send the dead to the Farplane. You accepted this when you became a summoner."

"I know," Yalan said faintly. "But I don't...feel very well. I...don't think I'm up to it."

He did look rather pale, so Eddora said, "Fine. I'll do it."

Kenan looked rather impatient at his summoner's frailty, and grumbled, "We'd better get you to your cabin then, Yalan."

Eddora shook her head as Kenan herded his summoner away. Sickly people like him shouldn't become summoners, she thought sagely, then turned her thoughts to the task ahead. She understood the theory of Sending very well, of course, having studied it thoroughly during her training, but she had never performed it for real before. "Well, no time like the present," she muttered, retying her ponytail and making sure everything was in place. Well aware that everyone's eyes were on her, she climbed up onto the railing of the ship and balanced herself carefully, closing her eyes to prepare her mind.

Ed grew almost completely still, like a misplaced figurehead, only her hair and robes fluttering in the breeze. Then, without warning, she leapt nimbly off the railing. The crewmen, who had abandoned their tasks to watch, rushed over to the side only to see Eddora dancing on the surface of the waves. As she twirled three times in quick succession, a fountain of water formed beneath her feet and raised her up till she was level with the deck.

Eddora did not know who she was, but this did not frighten her. She was the ship, she was the wind, she was the water that spiraled about to make a fountain. And she was the bodies that lay silent and still on the ocean floor. She was their pyreflies, the shining wisps of color and light that slowly emerged from dozens of chests where dozens of hearts had stopped beating hours ago. She spun, she whirled, atop the fountain of water and under the water as well - a mortal woman and dozens of immortal souls, bound together like strands of rope, like husband and wife, like fingers interlocked in prayer.

She saw every moment of each of their lives all at once, felt in the deepest part of her soul their deepest emotions. Shame, guilt, joy, fear, excitement, anger, lust, forgiveness, grief, sorrow, death, death, death. Even while alive, they had known death, had smelled it, tasted it, breathed it in every breath and excreted it from every pore. She was that death, she was that life, the two wrapping around each other like strands of rope, like the double helixes in every cell of their bodies. Like strands of rope...like strands of rope....

The pyreflies rose higher, she rose higher, up into the sky, leaving the fetters of the mortal world behind. The sky was so near! She was nearly to the sun. If she just reached a little farther, soared a little longer, she would be there. She could touch that burning mass of life, of death. Would she be accepted, or would she be burned? She did not know, and it was terrifying to wonder, yet at the same time exhilarating - like the times she had drunk bottle after bottle of sake, testing her limits, betting with herself when she would fall unconscious, wondering if she might die after the next bottle. She was nearly there.... She could feel the heat of the sun, though she had no nerves, though she was nothing more than a colorful wisp of soul fleeting through the dusky sky....

But something seemed to tug at her, even as she pressed to move onward. Something was holding her back, like a rope around her neck that tightened when she got too far. She turned back impatiently to see what it was....

And she was Eddora Khaul again, a mortal woman in a sweaty body covered in dirty clothes, stepping off the sinking fountain of water and back onto the railing of the ship. The crewmen all performed the prayer gesture at the pyreflies that vanished into the falling night, and Ed automatically joined them.

The crewmen were talking to her, but she wasn't aware of what they were saying. She felt overwhelmed, exhausted, and she wasn't even sure why. She felt as though something had gone out of her in that Sending, as though the tiniest part of her soul had joined those pyreflies on their journey to the Farplane. She couldn't remember any of the men's lives, so quickly had they flashed through her, but her heart was left heavy with the impression they made on her. She was filled with a thousand conflicting emotions, and she couldn't make any one emotion out to decide what exactly it was she was feeling. Whatever was the case, it was much more exhausting to perform a Sending than she had ever imagined, and all she wanted now was to lie down on that soft bed below deck and sleep.

Eddora mumbled some kind of reply to the men surrounding her, and stumbled over to the door leading down to the hold. When she had nearly reached it, she realized Aer was standing there. For once, she didn't feel annoyed by the mere sight of him - then again, she didn't feel much of anything right now. But seeing Aer reminded her of the job she had assigned him: looking after Calaman.

Ed staggered to a halt, wavering slightly. Her tired mind could only hold one thought at a time, and the only possibility for Aer's presence she could think of was.... "Oh no," she whispered, and to her horror she felt her legs almost give way. To keep herself from falling, she grabbed Aer's shoulder and leaned all her weight on it. "Don't tell me he's-"

Horror rose ever higher, like bile, as her voice caught and broke. She could feel something rising inside her, and though she gritted her teeth against it, she knew it would come. "Hurry, Aer," she mumbled as best her trembling lips would allow. "Get me inside, away from all these people. I think...I'm going to cry."

((Okay, I think I wrote a bit too much xd Call it inspiration.))  

[Ikken Isshu]

((As you yourself said, I prefer long posts, so no worries. And on that note, as long as you say you don't mind, I'll just keep right up with the ridiculously long posts. xd

The Macbeth reference was when Oebr commented that "I am merely too full of the milk of human kindness". In Macbeth (spoilers avoided), when Lady Macbeth forms her plan and decides that Macbeth is too much of a wuss to carry it out without her help, she comments,

"...yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness
To catch the nearest way..."

In any case... Hm. Though I don't think this post will be very long. x.x))

Aer's eyes went wide as Eddora approached. She was clearly very distraught. Somewhere in the back of his head was a little voice telling him that, if he comforted her, she might be obliged to render him a few favors... But he angrily suppressed that voice, opened the door, and led her to a chair in the room, ignoring Calaman's astonished inquiries as to the situation.

Searching for the waterskin, he saw that Calaman was holding it - and it was empty. He cursed under his breath. Well, magical water would do as well, here. He was nearly burned out as it was, but this much oughtn't be a problem. He snatched up the overturned flask, muttered an incantation, and filled the flask with a trickle of crystal clear water from his fingertip.

"Here," he said, holding the flask to her lips. "Take a drink, and calm down. What happened? You were fine when I left you to tend to Calaman..."

A loud noise startled him, and he whirled to see Calaman hanging with all his weight on the door.

"Get back in the bed," Aer snapped.

"The Lady needs it mo -"

"She's upset, not ill," Aer returned on the tail end of Calaman's words, "now get back into the bloody bed!"

Chastened, Calaman returned to a seat at the edge of the bed. He turned tight, worried eyes on Eddora as Aer returned to his efforts to get her to drink.  

[Griselda Banks]

((Yup, long posts are great ^_^ You know, I've found that it always takes a while for me to really get into an rp, so that I start daydreaming about it like I do my stories. The amount of time it takes depends on the rp (one took only five posts or so). I think it's finally happened with this rp in the last few posts. Anyway, I'm really enjoying this.

Oh, and kudos to you for being able to reference Macbeth like that.))

Eddora managed to keep the impending tears back as Aer quickly guided her back into her room. The moment she saw Calaman sitting up in bed, what little strength remained in her weary mind and body seemed to vanish, and she staggered against Aer, forcing him to half-drag her over to the chair near the bed.

Just as she had feared, tears poured out of Ed's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She weakly tried to stop them, but this only resulted in her sobbing harder than ever. Eventually she had to bury her face in her hands, resting her elbows on her knees.

She didn't even know why she was crying. Well, in a way she did, but in another everything was so confusing that she couldn't figure it out. It was partly because of the lives she had briefly touched, partly because of Calaman and the multitude of various thoughts that surrounded him, and it was partly just because. She didn't like how she had become so vulnerable all of a sudden, but then again she couldn't do anything to stop it.

Eddora was vaguely aware of the two men talking, but she didn't know what they were saying or who they were speaking to. Gradually, she became aware that Aer was trying to move her hands away from her face, while at the same time pressing a waterskin to her lips. As soon as she realized this, she eagerly grabbed the waterskin and gulped down its contents. The water tasted different somehow, but she wasn't about to analyze that now.

Once her dry throat was cool and wet once more, Ed's tears began to slow down. She hugged herself, looking down at the floor while her whole body shook with shudders that were half breaths and half sobs. She knew her face must be a mess - all wet and red and blotchy, most likely - but she didn't care. She didn't trust herself to speak, but she wiped a few tears away and looked up tentatively at Calaman.  

[Ikken Isshu]

((Ususally it just happens when I find myself bored, and without any readily available original writing ideas, so I pick a roleplay that I'm currently involved in, and pound out an absurdly long post while offline. I think the longest roleplay post I've ever done that with was... on a Kingdom Hearts roleplay, and it was a ten-page flashback. Page numbers measured in Microsoft Works terms, of course, which I think is similar to Microsoft Office. Suffice to say it was big.

I think I've already said that this is probably the best roleplay I'm doing at the moment. I keep wanting to jack up the level of action; I have to remind myself that falling action is necessary, razz ))

It was his fault, of course. He'd carelessly thrown himself into the battle, and then, faced with the horror of what he'd done, driven himself into a state of illness. Idiot. And now she was deprived of a guardian. Idiot!

He slid off the bed and prostrated himself before her.

"I wish to apologize -" He began, but Aer nudged him with his foot.

"Get up," Aer said flatly.

"I wish to apologize," Calaman began again, stiffy. "Not only has my reckless behaviour caused you distress, I have also incapacitated myself as your guardian as a result. Therefore, my Lady, you have my humblest and most sincere apologies for the wrongs I have done you, and my vow to never make the same mistake again, if you will demean yourself so far as to forgive me."

Aer rolled his eyes. "Bloody drama..."

((Calaman is eeeeemooooo... xd ))  

[Griselda Banks]

((lol, I wish I could do that. My inspiration usually doesn't go that far.

Calaman = emo
Eddora = emo
Aer = question ))

Tears welled up in Ed's eyes again, and she had no strength to push them back. "Idiot," she muttered, unknowingly voicing Calaman's thoughts. She reached down and, using her very last reserves of strength, pulled her guardian off the floor. Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned back into the chair so that he was slumped awkwardly over her.

Eddora closed her eyes and absently ran a hand through Calaman's hair. "Stupid boy..." she murmured softly. "You haven't done anything wrong.... You're only fourteen.... You're just a child...you don't have to try so hard...you're just a child.... You don't have to be a hero.... Don't throw your life away...."

It seemed to Ed as she held Calaman that she was speaking to a different person: a fourteen-year-old girl with long, black hair and fiery eyes. She spoke in an attempt to ease this girl's pain, though she knew her words would do no good.

"Don't worry...everything will be all right, if you just live.... Just live...." Soothed by her own soft voice and the rhythmic motions of her hand, she slipped away to sleep, hounded by exhaustion in both body and soul. Her hand slowed down and stopped stroking Calaman's hair, and she rested her cheek against the top of his head as she let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her soul.

Eddora was fast asleep.

(( sweatdrop Sorry for leaving your chars in such an awkward position. Um...Eddora made me do it! mrgreen ))  

[Ikken Isshu]

Calaman found himself chilled by her words; it felt, bizarrely enough, as though she were speaking through him, rather than to him. But the words served their purpose, and When she drifted off to sleep, Aer helped Calaman get her into the bed. Calaman wasn't exactly steady on his feet, but he could stand.

"After that debacle, it's a miracle the hull of the ship wasn't damaged," Aer remarked to Calaman while the two were leaving. Calaman kept darting glanced back at the door; after all, with his summoner weakened and unconscious, she was very vulnerable - but Aer wouldn't brook any talk of staying in the room. "It'll be a few days yet before we're in Besaid. If we've any luck at all, though, the worst is behind us."

~

((I would suggest a time skip now, to allow for everyone to recover without having to write it in. To facilitate that, I did one of my long posts. razz I don't think it's as long as some, though; only about a page on Works.

I originally had ideas for this to be a post that led into some sort of tragedy or cataclysm, like the revelation of bandits besieging the village, or a plague, or something along those lines, but I figured it’s too soon after our pirate adventure for yet another ‘rising action’ sequence. Besides, I had plans of that persuasion for Kilika, so perhaps it’s best that I did this one the way I did. razz

Note: It is called the ‘Cloister of Trials’, isn’t it? Bah, the temple thing.))

The sun rose high over Besaid that morning, as if a sign of good things to come. The animals of the village were unusually active, and to Rettal it seemed that everyone walked with an extra spring in his step.

As for the boy himself, he was an acolyte in the Cloister of Trials. This morning, he knew, his task would be simple: Clean up the place. Acolytes’ tasks varied depending on the day; sometimes Rettal was to run errands, sometimes he was to shadow the guards of the inner chambers. Today he was to clean.

“Ah, young Rettal,” came the deep intonation of a priest within the Cloister, almost before Rettal had entered. Rettal placed himself before the man and performed the prayer gesture. The priest returned the gesture, and nodded perfunctorily, and Rettal was off on his task.

It was some time later, as Rettal knelt beside the door scrubbing at a particularly stubborn patch of dust - There’s no bloody way that this is just dust, he thought in frustration - that a shadow fell between the sun and himself, and he glanced up to spy a man bedecked in what were clearly summoner’s robes. The colors were bizarrely out of sorts with one another, but the form was obvious enough. Rettal dropped his cloth and scrambled to his feet to perform an abject rendering of the prayer gesture.

“My lord,” he stammered.

“Please,” the tall and blonde summoner said. His voice was soft, low, sad. His countenance was little different. He was extremely handsome, with a face exquisitely formed; angular and yet smooth, his reddish-brown eyes half-lidded, though sharply and intelligently focused on Rettal. “Luseik will suffice, child.” He knelt before Rettal - one of his two guardians, a Ronso, drew back his lips in a silent snarl - and held out a few pieces of gil cupped in his hand. “Do you think, for ten gil, you could run ahead and tell a priest that the Summoner Luseik has arrived and wishes to begin his pilgrimage?”

Rettal’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “My lord, you don’t need to give me any -”

The man - Luseik - smiled with mild amusement. Somehow, Rettal got the impression he didn’t smile very often.

“Humour me, then; accept the gil as a gift, and run the message as a favor.”

The Ronso spoke up now, his voice predictably low and gruff. He was obviously miffed, though, because every word seemed punctuated by a growl that trailed into the next word. “Accept the gil or not as you will, boy, but by debating it here, you are delaying a summoner in his pilgrimage.”

Rettal paled, nodded quickly, and scrambled off.

~

Luseik straightened, his lips tight. He closed his hand around the untouched gil, shot Satiyen a sharp glance, dropped the gil back into his pouch, and sighed breezily. Keskes sucked in a sharp and apprehensive breath, and took a few steps away from the two. They’d fought before, and it was rarely pretty. He only wished they’d pay more heed to where they were when they did it.

“I spoke only the truth,” Satiyen said, a little defensively. Luseik rolled his eyes.

“Satiyen, I want you to look around and then tell me something.”

Warily, Satiyen looked over his shoulder at the town of Besaid. He passed his eyes cursorily over the innards of the Cloister. “Well, Luseik?”

Luseik turned to face Satiyen squarely. “How many summoners, exactly, do you see clamoring to get ahead of us, Satiyen?”

Satiyen’s eyes narrowed. “Not a one.”

Luseik smiled for the second time that day, but it was not a friendly smile.

“Then, tell me, Satiyen… Why, for the love of all that is good in this world, are you in such a damnable rush?”

“I am only doing the task to which I have committed myself,” Satiyen growled.

“You committed yourself to helping me complete my pilgrimage!” Luseik practically shouted, in an uncharacteristic fit of anger. “What bloody good is that, if you drive your summoner to distraction?”

The confrontation was abruptly cut short when a priest, who had presented himself a moment ago, now cleared his throat loudly. Luseik shot a vicious glare at the man, but then remembered where he was, and, after a venomous glance at Satiyen, who had already schooled his face back to impassivity, Luseik performed the prayer gesture, which was returned by the priest.

“You are, of course, welcome in this Cloister, honored summoner,” the priest said. Luseik could not stop himself from reddening in embarrassment at his own conduct. “I notice, however, that you do not seem to be in the best humor. The Cloister of Trials is not a thing to be taken lightly, my lord summoner, and if you are not at your best, it is wise to abstain.”

Luseik lowered his gaze to rearrange his thoughts, straightened, and shook his head.

“I am prepared,” he said. “I apologize for my guardian’s -” Satiyen grunted, and Luseik closed his eyes, “for our conduct. We’ve disgraced a Cloister of Trials. If you will permit me to enter and undergo the trial, I will of course accept any penance you deem appropriate.”

The priest could not suppress a soft chuckle. “It is hardly appropriate for a low-tier priest such as myself to assign a penance to a summoner, but if it will ease your mind, I will think of something. I offered my cautions only for your sake. If you feel that you are prepared and capable, then please, enter, with our blessing.”

Luseik performed the prayer gesture again, this time accompanied by both of his guardians, and the priest returned it respectfully. The priest retreated, and Luseik looked over his shoulder at Satiyen. He hesitated for quite a long time, but then shook his head as if changing his mind about something.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. Satiyen inclined his head respectfully, but silently. Keskes sighed. And without further ado, the party entered the Cloister proper.

 

[Griselda Banks]

((Yeah, that sounds like it would work better in Kilika. The Cloister of Trials is the innermost part of the temple. You know, that place with the puzzles and that cool music ^_^ Speaking of which, isn't Nobuo Uematsu amazing?! I'm a big fan XD

So, I'm assuming the time skip will mean that the ship is now coming in to Besaid?))

A few days after the ordeal with the pirates and the subsequent Sending, Eddora was feeling very much herself again. The morning after her lapse into vulnerability, she had garnered several cautious looks from Calaman and Aer, but a snapped remark or two had assured them that she was just the same Eddora as ever. Ed tried to put the memory of the Sending out of her mind, but it would not leave. It clung to her like a barnacle, weighing down her heart - not very much, but just a little corner that would turn sad when her mind was not otherwise occupied.

After so much excitement on the first day of their voyage, the remaining days seemed frightfully boring, but at last they were at an end. The island of Besaid was coming into view, a bright pearl in the deep blue sea. Ed watched the island grow larger and larger; it didn't look that impressive - just your average tropical island with a white beach and lush forest. It took a great deal of effort not to sniff disdainfully.

In contrast, Yalan leaned eagerly over the side next to her, holding onto the railing tightly so he wouldn't fall out. "It looks even more beautiful now, having been gone so long!" he gushed to Kenan, who stood at his side, face impassive and arms crossed over his chest.

"It has been a long time," was all he would concede.

Ed didn't mean to eavesdrop, but they were standing right next to her, so even when Yalan lowered his voice, she could still hear.

"Do you think we'll meet...?"

"Perhaps," Kenan grunted.

Yalan dropped down from his perch on the railing and frowned. "Do you think he'll try to stop me?"

"If he does, you know what I'll have to do."

Both fell silent again, and said no more until the boat pulled into the tiny dock. Ed found Calaman through the crowd of passengers heading towards the exit ramp, and when she reached his side put a hand on his shoulder. "Well, here we are," she said as they stepped off the ramp together. "This is where the pilgrimage really starts."  

[Ikken Isshu]

((*Xemnas voice* Indeed. razz ))

Valefor dove, an unnatural shriek rending the air. Satiyen dove out of its way. Keskes, frantically canting a second-level thunder spell, stumbled over his own words and then yelped as Valefor summoned up an Energy Cannon and released it. The blast encompassed the whole room; Keskes was thrown against a wall and crumpled, unconscious; Luseik was hit full on in the chest, stumbled backward, and fell. He staggered to his feet, his face a study in rage as he prepared to try to heal Keskes. Only Satiyen escaped the effects of the attack, deftly dodging the waves of power and snaking in close to the birdlike creature. He delivered a crippling slash to the aeon's left wing and rolled away when Valefor retaliated with its talons, furiously shrieking.

Luseik bellowed the last few words of his incantation, and Keskes moaned. Slowly, the child rose, recovered his bearings, and began to cast one of the spells he had himself created only weeks before: Ravel. The incantation was spoken slowly, in a low voice, with a sibilant hissing undertone. Keskes closed his eyes and continued to cant.

"Luseik!" Satiyen shouted. "Try Holy!"

"I haven't the strength," Luseik called back. "I had to revive Keskes. Just stall, Satiyen - I think he's casting Ravel."

"Right," Satiyen replied, and rolled under a vicious strike from Valefor's talons. The bird was furious now that it had been grounded by the injury to its wing. Crippled, but furious nonetheless. Satiyen struck at the talon when it went for him again, but at the last moment, Valefor withdrew and pecked ferociously at him instead. The feint was successful, and the bird ripped the flesh of Satiyen's arm. The Ronso howled in pain and rage and leapt back away from Valefor. Seeing that his guardian was in danger, Luseik ran forward, drew a small dagger - really more decorative than anything else - and threw it at Valefor. It whizzed harmlessly past the aeon's head, but it successfully distracted Valefor, which, after all, had been the point. The shrieking aeon stomped toward Luseik, who raised his arms in another canting gesture. The simple incantation was complete almost immediately, and a translucent, glimmering barrier faded into existence around him. Valefor pecked at it; some of the force of the blow reached Luseik, but it was negligible.

"Im Daos est vietat d'everal - est te!" Keskes shouted, and Valefor turned, curiously, to face the boy. It regarded him curiously. At first, it seemed like the spell hadn't done anything. Keskes stood there, defiantly facing Valefor, and just as the bird took a step toward him, it stopped again, tilted its head briefly, and then shrieked and began to flail. After a few more seconds, it became apparent that its good wing was... unraveling. It was as if the aeon was a doll woven of nothing but threads, and Keskes' spell had seized on a loose threads and tugged. Before long, the entire wing was gone, and the 'threads' were flailing wildly around Valefor. Satiyen roared, leapt onto Valefor's back - unnoticed, it seemed, by the screeching aeon - and plunged his hand-and-a-half sword all the way through Valefor's body. The blade burst from Valefor's chest with a sound like biting into an apple, and Keskes paled and looked away. Valefor gave one final shriek, and then collapsed, its head having been unraveled. The rest of the body unraveled, and Satiyen dropped nimbly to the floor, cradling his injured arm.

Luseik, panting, straightened and adjusted his robes. "It's almost finished," he said quietly. "Then we can rest. Come. We're not yet done here."

Satiyen nodded; Keskes drew closer to Luseik, and, after Luseik healed Satiyen's wound, the three proceeded forward.

((Not sure why I bothered typing all that... But it was still fun. biggrin

Hey, Yalan's 'he' isn't Luseik, is 'he'?))

Calaman paled a little at Eddora's statement, but Aer just grinned and put an extra spring into his step.

"So, what do you think, Eddora?" he said as his eyes panned around the island with the interest of a tourist. "Are we going to go straight to the Cloister, or do a little sightseeing?"

"Someone seems awfully cheerful today," Calaman snorted.

"Just making up for the void of cheer that is Calaman," Aer retorted without missing a beat.

Calaman rolled his eyes, and in his boredom (though, of course, he was still keeping his eyes on a swivel as usual), released a dagger from its wrist-sheath - with a brief wrenching of his gut, he realized it was the same dagger with which he'd killed a man on the ship - and began to play the dagger across his fingers like a magician with a coin.  

[Griselda Banks]

((Er...am I supposed to understand why they were just fighting an aeon?

As for Yalan's 'he,' that wasn't what I was originally intending, but it could work. I don't know much about Luseik's past, so I don't know how that would fit in or anything.))

Eddora glanced appreciatively at Calaman's nimble fingers manipulating the dagger as though it was not dangerous at all, then returned her attention to Aer. With a snort, she asked, "Sightsee? What's there to sightsee? This is just one of those fish-smelling islands with nothing but a beach, really. The only thing worth seeing here is the temple." And even that's probably not much to look at, she added to herself.

The three of them followed the path at the end of the beach that slowly wound up the only hill on the island. The sun was hot, beating down on their heads, and Eddora soon began to perspire heavily. She wasn't used to such temperatures, having lived in Bevelle for almost half of her life. At last they reached the top of the hill, and Ed strode up to the railing at the edge of a cliff that looked out over the village. Snorting, she muttered, "Look at that little heap of huts. I can't believe someone decided to build a temple here." Shaking her head, she started down the other side of the hill.

When they reached the village, the native inhabitants rushed out to greet them with cries of, "Welcome, Lady Summoner!" and "Yevon bless you, My Lady!"

Ed nodded absently and quickly did the prayer gesture as she knew she was expected to do, then said impatiently, "Excuse me, good people, but I'm on my way to the temple here, you know."  

[Ikken Isshu]

((Don't you have to fight the aeons in order to attain them, or have I made a horrible mistake? eek

I'm not itching to get Luseik involved with another party; I was just asking for clarification. No worries, go on as you were planning.))

Luseik paused in brushing off his clothing as his thumb caught on a tear he hadn't noticed. "Damn," he muttered. "We'll have to find a tailor. Satiyen, are you all right? That wasn't a very thorough healing. How are you holding up?"

"Fine, Luseik," the Ronso grunted absently, wiping off his blade. Since the aeon hadn't bled, the only things to get off the blade were perspiration-drenched feathers. "It will heal naturally in time. I'll be fine by the time we reach Kilika."

"A more pressing concern," Keskes pointed out, "is making progress. Look outside."

Luseik looked up from the tear in his robe and saw the ship in the distance, and a smattering of oddly-colored specks between the temple and the ship.

"If we tarry any more," Keskes said, "Satiyen may get some justification for hurrying."

Luseik grunted. "Well," he said flatly, "shall we find out how quickly that ship can set sail?"

"Let me guess," Keskes muttered, "Ravel."

"Well, it hasn't been that long since the fight. You should still have access to the matter, correct?"

Keskes snorted. "It's an aeon, Luseik. I've never used Ravel on an aeon... How do we know whether it's even made of matter?"

Luseik shrug. "Ravel worked on it; therefore, it's made of matter. Come, or we'll be overtaken."

((Don't worry, you're not yet meant to understand all of that. Not to mention, the workings of a spell are hardly plot-central.))

~

Aer and Calaman followed Eddora wordlessly, Aer's eyes roving over the foliage, Calaman's over the populace. He was finding it difficult to maintain a safe 'sphere' of distance between their party and the natives; he didn't want to draw his weapon, and Eddora probably wouldn't encourage it, but at the same time, his usual stern looks and dangerous stance didn't seem to be cutting it, as far as warding off strangers was concerned.

After a time, Calaman noticed that a number of heads were turning away from them; it wasn't long before he saw why. Coming from the direction of the temple was an interesting group: The summoner (Calaman realized with a start that his party was not, apparently, at the forefront of the pilgrimages) was dressed very eccentrically; summoner's robes, to be sure, but of colors that even Calaman would not have synthesized into one outfit. Alongside the summoner strode two guardians: One, a boy, and obviously a mage from the eldritch intelligence in his expression, as well as his utter lack of a weapon (except, Calaman noticed with sudden perception, that the way he carried himself made it obvious to Calaman that there was a dagger concealed in his left sleeve). The other guardian was a Ronso; Calaman had never seen a Ronso, but all of the tales he'd heard were confirmed by this one: Tall, well-muscled, fearsome. For an instant, the Ronso's eyes met his own, and there was - recognition. Not the recognition of two individuals, but the recognition of two warriors. Calaman found himself humbled - he found himself wondering why such a recognition would exist in the eyes of a Ronso, a feared warrior, in relation to a boy who'd only ever been in a single battle. Then the Ronso's eyes moved away, and the connection was broken. Calaman blinked, slightly confused, and more than a little curious. More than anything, he was simply unsettled.

((Stalling post, maybe? sweatdrop ))  

[Griselda Banks]

(( sweatdrop Um, no, you don't. The summoner goes into the inner Chamber of the Fayth and prays to the fayth. If the summoner is worthy, they are bestowed with an aeon. The only time in the game you fight your own aeons is at the end, when they're trying to defeat Yu Yevon, which possesses each of the aeons in turn.))

Eddora came to an abrupt halt as this new summoner party emerged from the temple. When her eyes rested on the one who was obviously the summoner, she clenched her teeth. Though his color sense was perhaps a bit ludicrous, the expression in his eyes, the depth and conviction that bled from those small orbs to the rest of his face, frightened and irritated Ed all at once. She realized, as she sized this man up, that he was a competent summoner indeed. So far, she hadn't seen any summoner that worried her - Yalan was too weak, Maryllis was just silly, and she didn't think much of Oebr either. But this man.... Competition indeed, she said to herself, and determined to pick up the pace a bit. I am going to be the High Summoner. I!

When Eddora realized she could not stall any longer without being rude, she made a hasty prayer gesture at him, bowing as little as possible while still bending her back. She was aware of everyone's eyes on her - the villagers, Aer, Calaman, and this new party of summoner and guardians - but she didn't care.

Climbing the steps till she could look the man in the eye, she said, "Greetings. I am Summoner Eddora, from Bevelle. And you are?" She kept her voice decidedly neutral, not so cold as to sound antagonistic, but allowing as little warmth as possible so this man wouldn't get the wrong idea. They were adversaries, after all.  

[Ikken Isshu]

((I could have sworn..... crying Damn, I must be thinking of FFX-2. Crap. Welllll... Ummmmm... Suggestions?))

Rising from his own barely remembered prayer gesture, Luseik stepped aside so as not to block the woman's path to the temple. "Summoner Luseik, of the Al Bhed." He wondered briefly if she would react as most people did upon learning that an Al Bhed had chosen the path of a summoner of Yevon, but out of politeness, did not regard her too closely.

((Maybe I can salvage this without simply editing a post. sweatdrop ))

"These are my guardians, the Ronso warrior Satiyen and Kilikan black mage Keskes. If, as I expect, you are here on your pilgrimage," he said, "I urge caution. The fayth are full of unrest, and I faced more than just one Trial within this Cloister." His two guardians stopped as they realized Luseik was pausing to speak. An impatient expression stole over the Ronso's face, but the black mage seemed more or less disinterested. In fact, Calaman noted with some confusion, the boy was muttering under his breath and performing odd half-gestures with his fingers. Practicing a spell?

Aer's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about? Fiends?"

"No," Luseik said with a slow shake of his head, "no. I'm talking about aeons."

((There. Problem sol... erm, mitigated.))

((EDIT: I'm going to add some more, seeing's how I've now got a more solid and, er, believable idea as to why there was an aeon that needed to be fought. So I think I really can salvage this blunder. razz ))

Aer narrowed his eyes. "The fayth explained nothing of it?" he asked bluntly.

"The fayth do not normally speak in tongues that can be understood by humans," Luseik said mildly.

"There was no obvious explanation?" Calaman mused; in his reverie, he forgot to add his usual terms of address for the summoner. Luseik didn't appear to mind.

"I expect it was a fiend," the Ronso said suddenly. The gravelly quality of his voice didn't surprise Calaman, but Aer's eyebrows rose visibly. "Some sort of shapeshifter, maybe."

"Oh, come off it," Keskes said. Calaman was surprised; the mage looked and sounded even younger than Calaman himself. "A fiend in the Cloister of Trials? What possible reason could there be for something like that?"

Satiyen shrugged. "Luseik said that the fayth are full of unrest. Perhaps if we learn what is causing that 'unrest', we will learn why fiends are able to dwell within the Cloister."

Calaman elbowed Aer just as he was about to say something else, and then turned his eyes on Eddora. At the same time, Aer elbowed Calaman right back, and said obliviously, "What do you think, Eddora?"