As usual, here's a brand-new open post for all of you to post characters, mingle, and tag each other!
Seriously, post whatever you want. Empty toplevels? Open starters? Starters closed to specific people? It's all good — just enjoy! And as always, tag out and have fun!
[Of course, many a time she had looked at him through their travels and felt a nagging sense of... something. She simply chalked it up to the unease of being so casual with an Ascian, smile unflinching even when his eyes remain so fixed on her own when he introduced himself. Many seemed fixed on her due to her title, and so she assumed the same of him - she was the obstacle in the way of his plans, after all.
But she wonders now if her title ever mattered. Her head throbs as the city forces her to remember, fragments of a time within the Allagan Empire - and a nostalgia of this place. She considered Ishgard her home, but this... This felt so truly like home, yet it was bittersweet. A home she could never return to.
It didn't make any sense, Persephone knew she was from the times of the Allagan Empire, but this city was from so long ago. Far from the time when she was part of one of the uprisings, when she first laid her eyes on him -
- Her head throbs, that memory both right and wrong. A hand cradles her temple as she forces herself to keep walking, jaw clenched as mismatched fragments float to the forefront. She... knew Emet-Selch? Not as he is now, but so far back then, when the Empire was at its most powerful - No that's still not right, is it?
Is this why he seemed so focused on her? Because they knew each other, once upon a many moons ago? But even back then, she was an obstacle, a force that was trying to drag down the Empire and even worse, she was failure - warped and changed into who she is now. A woman on the brink of her soul shattering, aether horribly corrupted - though her mind already feels as though it will shatter first.
Footsteps approaching her snap her from her stupor, her one eye flicking up at the figure that - narrowing as their paths start to pass. Wincing as there's another harsh tug in the back of her mind, pulling her memories from another direction. And as the figure steps past her, a hand reaches to stop them.
Then she stops. This is familiar too, reaching out with darkness obscuring half her vision - she did this before. So many times. With them, with others -
"I could heal it, but it's a good reminder to not get too cocky, yes? My own fault for thinking fauna with teeth was a good idea -"]
Ah... [That's all that escapes her, all she can manage as her hand recoils to against her blind eye, against the thorn-like scar that streaks across it obscuring iris and pupil. When... did she get the scar? Why did she become blind like this?
"I woke up with my eye like this, I'm not sure why - " " - The Empire didn't do this, it was always like this -" " - Being born with my eye like this doesn't make me less capable! I can still fight against the Allagans!"
"Really, it's fine like this. Makes me more dashing, don't you think so -"]
- Hades. [It comes out before she can stop herself. It takes a second for her to realize she even said it, shakily brushing her hair back to obscure her eye for the first time in centuries. Hades... Ah, even thinking of that name makes it feel as if her heart would burst.]
I knew you... I've known you for so long, and I kept forgetting. [First when she... She shattered, and again when she was shattered once more. Years ago she might've remembered, when fate brought them together on opposing sides, but then the Tower warped her so completely her memories left her again.
And here she is. Once more his enemy, once more having no memory of him.]
Never apologize... I only take offense to mediocrity (which this isnt!)
[ Oftentimes it was said that eyes were windows to the soul. Also eyes averted could denote lies and subterfuge, however if there had been anything with Emet-Selch's dealings with Persephone, it had been that he had always mantained precise eye contact with her and those eyes, they were unflinching but they held truth within them. The thing was that his eyes had always been truthful, even when the truth had been painful. And oh how history was built upon such heart-wrenching and soul crushing moments, weren't they now? Victories and defeats-- history that manifested so many puzzle pieces into but a whole-- and evermore it kept building and building, layers upon layers that twined around fragments of memory.
And at the center of it, the gnarled broken roots of a tree, a tree that at the very core was mangled seemingly beyond any hope of repair. Those roots that had had started to crawl once the star had been sundered, and with that his one true desire. Time though hadn't taken the goal away from him so while the roots continued to twist and grow, his objective never wavered. It had been something beyond Zodiark, a means to an end. His brethren had their own motivations-- their own paths and so too did he.
He'd been the Architect of the Allagan Empire too. It had been he who had given Xande the power and it had been he who had orchestrated Xande's ressurection, and there had been not a stage quite as grand as that particular empire and he had such a fondness for it, and on that stage, Hydaelyn had chosen to put her vessal right on the stage with him so that the two of them may 'dance' again. And now once again, she was here and he was here and to a place that harkened back to where it all began.
However when they met at the Allagan Empire, there had been elation. A thrill between them, a challenge.
'Aha, you don't remember me, but I -most certainly remember- you...' // 'Does it unsettle you to know that I remember something that you clearly do not? But I shall -not- tell you, that would take all of the enjoyment out of the dance, my dearest' // 'But you always -were- one to rush headlong into things, that scar fits you but let it serve as a -warning- too-- of what happens when one flies -too close- to the sun.'
But now, there was no elation- rather a weary sort of melancholy, of one who had been alive far too long and had seen far too many things. Even the conductor would get tired at the very end of a very long run. The walk that Emet-Selch had right now, with slightly stooped shoulders and a measured and slow gait, perhaps it was the after effects of finishing out a life in an old decrepit vessal. But hadn't he chosen to live out the totality of life within that frame instead of moving on to the next one? It had been completely his choice and perhaps he was nearing that end, and perhaps he'd seen that end in Persephone's eyes at the very first glimmering hint of remembrance there.
And then his name, his true name-- she speaks it. He hadn't heard it in so long; it had been a name that he had been trying to get her to remember in another lifetime, edging her on, hoping upon hopes that she'd remember, that she'd come back to him; she'd stand by his side like she had once before, before the world had been split into 13 reflections. And yet he had a feeling that it may be too late even for that, but that acknowledgement-- perhaps it was worth it in the long run. ]
Let us put aside our differences for one final time?
[ and with that Emet-Selch, no Hades offers his arms to the Highlander woman. She had a space of time before he would let her go, would let her go back to the Scions, to bring them to the core of Amaurot where fate would dictate who would be on the right side of history. At the very least he would have this moment with her, perhaps a chance for her to remember, at least a little bit. ]
Allow me to show you Amaurot-- you should feel something for it was where our story began..
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valoirs
also let me know if i'm going too over the top!
But she wonders now if her title ever mattered. Her head throbs as the city forces her to remember, fragments of a time within the Allagan Empire - and a nostalgia of this place. She considered Ishgard her home, but this... This felt so truly like home, yet it was bittersweet. A home she could never return to.
It didn't make any sense, Persephone knew she was from the times of the Allagan Empire, but this city was from so long ago. Far from the time when she was part of one of the uprisings, when she first laid her eyes on him -
- Her head throbs, that memory both right and wrong. A hand cradles her temple as she forces herself to keep walking, jaw clenched as mismatched fragments float to the forefront. She... knew Emet-Selch? Not as he is now, but so far back then, when the Empire was at its most powerful - No that's still not right, is it?
Is this why he seemed so focused on her? Because they knew each other, once upon a many moons ago? But even back then, she was an obstacle, a force that was trying to drag down the Empire and even worse, she was failure - warped and changed into who she is now. A woman on the brink of her soul shattering, aether horribly corrupted - though her mind already feels as though it will shatter first.
Footsteps approaching her snap her from her stupor, her one eye flicking up at the figure that - narrowing as their paths start to pass. Wincing as there's another harsh tug in the back of her mind, pulling her memories from another direction. And as the figure steps past her, a hand reaches to stop them.
Then she stops. This is familiar too, reaching out with darkness obscuring half her vision - she did this before. So many times. With them, with others -
"I could heal it, but it's a good reminder to not get too cocky, yes? My own fault for thinking fauna with teeth was a good idea -"]
Ah... [That's all that escapes her, all she can manage as her hand recoils to against her blind eye, against the thorn-like scar that streaks across it obscuring iris and pupil. When... did she get the scar? Why did she become blind like this?
"I woke up with my eye like this, I'm not sure why - "
" - The Empire didn't do this, it was always like this -"
" - Being born with my eye like this doesn't make me less capable! I can still fight against the Allagans!"
"Really, it's fine like this. Makes me more dashing, don't you think so -"]
- Hades. [It comes out before she can stop herself. It takes a second for her to realize she even said it, shakily brushing her hair back to obscure her eye for the first time in centuries. Hades... Ah, even thinking of that name makes it feel as if her heart would burst.]
I knew you... I've known you for so long, and I kept forgetting. [First when she... She shattered, and again when she was shattered once more. Years ago she might've remembered, when fate brought them together on opposing sides, but then the Tower warped her so completely her memories left her again.
And here she is. Once more his enemy, once more having no memory of him.]
Never apologize... I only take offense to mediocrity (which this isnt!)
And at the center of it, the gnarled broken roots of a tree, a tree that at the very core was mangled seemingly beyond any hope of repair. Those roots that had had started to crawl once the star had been sundered, and with that his one true desire. Time though hadn't taken the goal away from him so while the roots continued to twist and grow, his objective never wavered. It had been something beyond Zodiark, a means to an end. His brethren had their own motivations-- their own paths and so too did he.
He'd been the Architect of the Allagan Empire too. It had been he who had given Xande the power and it had been he who had orchestrated Xande's ressurection, and there had been not a stage quite as grand as that particular empire and he had such a fondness for it, and on that stage, Hydaelyn had chosen to put her vessal right on the stage with him so that the two of them may 'dance' again. And now once again, she was here and he was here and to a place that harkened back to where it all began.
However when they met at the Allagan Empire, there had been elation. A thrill between them, a challenge.
'Aha, you don't remember me, but I -most certainly remember- you...'
//
'Does it unsettle you to know that I remember something that you clearly do not? But I shall -not- tell you, that would take all of the enjoyment out of the dance, my dearest'
//
'But you always -were- one to rush headlong into things, that scar fits you but let it serve as a -warning- too-- of what happens when one flies -too close- to the sun.'
But now, there was no elation- rather a weary sort of melancholy, of one who had been alive far too long and had seen far too many things. Even the conductor would get tired at the very end of a very long run. The walk that Emet-Selch had right now, with slightly stooped shoulders and a measured and slow gait, perhaps it was the after effects of finishing out a life in an old decrepit vessal. But hadn't he chosen to live out the totality of life within that frame instead of moving on to the next one? It had been completely his choice and perhaps he was nearing that end, and perhaps he'd seen that end in Persephone's eyes at the very first glimmering hint of remembrance there.
And then his name, his true name-- she speaks it. He hadn't heard it in so long; it had been a name that he had been trying to get her to remember in another lifetime, edging her on, hoping upon hopes that she'd remember, that she'd come back to him; she'd stand by his side like she had once before, before the world had been split into 13 reflections. And yet he had a feeling that it may be too late even for that, but that acknowledgement-- perhaps it was worth it in the long run. ]
Let us put aside our differences for one final time?
[ and with that Emet-Selch, no Hades offers his arms to the Highlander woman. She had a space of time before he would let her go, would let her go back to the Scions, to bring them to the core of Amaurot where fate would dictate who would be on the right side of history. At the very least he would have this moment with her, perhaps a chance for her to remember, at least a little bit. ]
Allow me to show you Amaurot-- you should feel something for it was where our story began..