Etheirys Roulette

a collection of dialogue prompts for or about characters who have been treated or trained as weapons by others, valued only for their capacity for violence, destruction, and harm. trigger warnings for mentions of murder and violence. change & alter as needed.

THE WEAPON:

"I'm not proud of the person they've turned me into. But it's all I know. And it's too late for me to change now."

"If there was ever any good in me, there's none left anymore."

"I don't know where the blood ends. Where my hands begin."

"I do what it takes to survive. And I don't care if that makes me a villain."

"I'm good at hurting people. I'm not going to apologize for doing what I'm good at."

"I'll never know who I could have been if they hadn't made me into this."

"This is your fault! You did this to me! You're the reason I'm like this!"

"Don't try and get close to me. You'll just get yourself hurt."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm... I'm not very good at being good."

"I don't really know how to be gentle."

"I'm not nice, and I'm not going to pretend to be. Deal with it."

"They made me a monster."

"They're all afraid of me. And they're right to be. You should be, too."

"I know I'm a villain. I don't need you to tell me that."

"Look at what they did to me! Look at what they made me into! It's their fault! They ruined me!"

"I wish they'd just killed me. I wish they'd just killed me instead of turning me into this. Being dead is better than being a monster."

"I know you're scared of me. It's okay. Everyone is."

"What does it matter whether I feel guilty about it or not? I still did it. Being sorry doesn't change that."

"Who am I if I'm not a monster?"

"No one could ever love me after everything I've done."

"Why aren't you afraid of me? How can you not be afraid of me?"

"I don't even know who I am without them pulling my strings."

"You want me to be the villain so bad? I can damn well provide."

"I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to hurt people. I want to be gentle. I want to be good."

"Who am I if I'm not what they've made me?"

"I don't need a weapon. I am one."

"Do you think I have it in me, to be good?"

THE WIELDER:

"You look so beautiful covered in somebody else's blood."

"And where did this little crisis of conscience come from all of a sudden?"

"You don't get to say no to me. Not after everything I've done for you. You owe me."

"You belong to me. You're mine."

"Where would you be without me? Who would you be without me? ...That's right. So let's try and be a little more grateful, hm?"

"I gave you everything, and this is how you choose to repay me?"

"I made you! You're nothing without me!"

"You don't make the rules, darling. That's my job."

"You are a dog, and I hold your leash. Never forget that."

"I didn't make you a monster. I just brought out what was already there."

"Look at you, coming when I call, eating out of my hand, doing everything I tell you... such a good dog, aren't you?"

"You think you can just walk away from me? Where are you going to go? Nobody else could possibly love a sick thing like you!"

"Monster is such an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as... helping you reach your fullest potential."

"I've got you trained so well, don't I?"

"I thought you knew better than to disobey me."

"Do you really think you can be a hero? After everything you've done?"

"Well, then, if I really ruined your life like you say, why don't you just kill me? We both know you're good at that."

"This is all you're good for. Don't go getting delusions of grandeur on me now."

"You couldn't survive without me. Don't ever delude yourself into thinking otherwise."

"I give the orders. You take them. Not the other way around."

"Destruction is really the only thing you're good at, darling. Take that away, and what's left?"

THE OBSERVER:

"You don't have to be what they tell you to be, you know? You're not stuck. You can change."

"You're not a monster. You're my friend."

"Being gentle doesn't come easy to you, does it?"

"You're a good person. I'm sorry they made you think you aren't."

"You kind of have a little... blood... on your face. ...Don't worry, I'll get it for you."

"I'm not scared of you."

"So, have you ever... you know... killed somebody?"

"You're sick, you know that? You're really sick. I can't believe you seriously do this kind of shit."

"Look, I know who you are. I know what you've done. And I'm not running away from you. You can't scare me off."

"You really are a monster."

"Why do you listen to them? Why do you take orders from them? You don't have to obey everything they tell you."

"So, let me get this straight: you know how to kill a man fifteen different ways, just with your bare hands, and you wouldn't even break a sweat... but you don't know what to do at a party?"

"You're not as mean as you want everyone to think you are."

"You say you're not a dog. So why do you blindly follow orders like one?"

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to be like this. You can choose your own path."

"You really are as bad as they say."

"Don't touch me. You have blood on your hands."

"I know you won't hurt me. I trust you."

"No! Stay away from me! Don't come any closer!"

"The world isn't just heroes and villains. You don't have to be one or the other. And just because you've been one doesn't mean you can't be the other."

"You don't have to listen to them. You don't have to obey."

An obvious sore spot, given how loud and animated Haurchefant became in that moment of declaration. Both in empathy for the boy he was and compassion for his comrades taking refuge in his camp. Haurchefant sighed. He was not angry. He was desperate.

"A mad heretic that is organizing and moving others of her kind in manners and ways none have seen before. They are claiming she is Shiva reborn and even if false - it is what they believe and they will organize and die for her cause in ways we have only just began to see, in ways yet to phantom. You cannot mean to tell me that there is someone among us who has challenged Iceheart and caused her retreat and yet has no place in Ishgard."

He already presented his case to the Count; yet he still felt he was on trial to a brother who ultimately had no sway. That didn't mean he sought to upset his kin.

Eyes narrowing, he went on, "While our House repays their debts, so too will your comrades. They shall be put to work to ensure that House Fortemps' leniency was for good cause -- especially knowing of the part they played in the conflict with Iceheart."

With a shake of his head, he turned away. He wanted nothing more to do with this conversation. He only wanted to make his thoughts clear regarding what he thought of what would unfold.

The attack on Baelsar's Wall, the strange cocoon of light, the death of his comrade, Carisle Geaupondt....

The uncertainty left the Miqo'te Adder apprehensive of what was to come. He left the Twevleswood with reports of updates on Shinryu, as well as several that were buried after the Crystal Braves' takeover.

He had been deep in thought as he mechanically walked through the door to the Seventh Heaven, through the door to the Rising Stones, and stepped forward toward the solar, bumping into the young Scion on her way out, dropping the reports. She began to apologize, bending to gather the reports, but suddenly grew silent and straightened up, backing away when she saw his face.

"My apologies, I-" The Twin Adder started, only to recognize the dark hair and the terrified eyes of the young adventurer he watched his comrade push off that cliffside in the North Shroud, growling, "Artemis."

He knew that she must also recognize him, her face pale and her silver eyes wide from fear. The memories of her supposed death, the sensation of falling, rushing to her head. In her trembling hand, the strange, key-like blade unveiled itself into her grip, held defensively. She took a step backward and instinctively glanced back, as if expecting to step onto a ledge where the stone is.

I wonder if Carlisle had ever felt this afraid in the moments before he died.

Ears pricking back, Miqo'te Adder gritted his teeth as he pulled his hand back to grab his lance, only to feel something poking his glove. His head turned to notice another blade, similar in shape to the one she held but made of shadow, floating with its teeth pointed directly at him to prevent him from drawing his lance. The surrounding air around them grew colder.

"Since when can you conjure...? What is this dark magic?!" He demanded, failing to notice how the girl's shadow stretched into his and further behind. The sound of the loud shout jolted them both from this stalemate, and this moment gave her the chance to swiftly turn, dismiss the strange weapon, and escape.

He took a step to follow her through the doors, only to notice the fallen reports, gathered into a small pile, now knocked over by his boot. His ears prick back, and he turned to see the strange blade clatter to the floor, disappearing into a flurry of shadows. The Miqo'te Adder's hand tightened into fists.

"Seven hells..." He growled, growing louder, turning on whoever dared to approach, " Are you aware that the Scions here have a Voidsent under their employ?!"

"The Scions do not employ voidsent, Ser," he began, and moved to kneel and pick up the scattered reports. Careful, measured. He had to tread lightly here -- while the Scions had been cleared of any wrongdoing in the past, that did not mean ill rumors could not make them more enemies yet again. "While I understand that a glimpse of Selena's personal brand of magick can be alarming and different from what one is accustomed to, I assure you, she has no ill intent towards Eorzea."

He stood, the papers now shuffled neatly back together in his hands.

"And I would ask that you refrain from such language as Ala Mhigan brat. We have many who hail from Gyr Abania in our ranks, and it would dishearten Kan-e-senna to hear that one of her own Adders hold such prejudice."

At least, he hoped it would. It was hard to tell where some Gridanians yet stood nowadays. For now, the civil threat held.

Won't he need Onyx Carbuncle to assist with his healing? She wondered, but dared not question it out loud. The keybearer stood up, slowly, and steadied herself. Her side dully ached from the sudden movement.

Selena exhaled, briefly glancing worriedly toward Alphinaud, then she sprinted away to return to her assigned post. She'd only slow down on occasion to check that Carbuncle isn't falling behind. But, they would escape the Ala Mhigan Quarter and return to her assigned post. The keybearer would then seek out one of the healers assigned on site to get the wound checked out.

Moments after its wielder started running, the Heartsickness keyblade left behind disappeared on its own in a burst of silver flames, as if sensing its own abandonment. Perhaps to prevent anyone other than its chosen wielder from picking up its hilt and misusing its power as their own. What a picky weapon.

~~~

"Carbuncle, before you return to Alphinaud, I would ask a favor of you," Selena started, kneeling down and pulling out a small pouch she had hastily put together moments before, holding it out before Onyx Carbuncle. "Please bring this to him. This has potions and some ethers from my own stash. I...I believe this could help him. Would you deliver this to him in my stead?"

He turned his attention back to the fight and helping those in need. After some time, he sensed his Carbuncle's return. Looking up as he finished tying off a bandage on someone's arm, he was confused to see the familiar carrying something in its mouth.

Supplies? Perhaps from the chirugeons from when the creature had escorted ... ah. No. Upon closer inspection, he recognized a peace offering when he saw one. It would be an endearing gesture if he was not still exceedingly frustrated with her.

Still, he accepted the pouch and sent Carbuncle off to attend to other things, before handing the potions out to a few of the soldiers that needed it.

The keybearer gritted her teeth and tried to keep her breathing even as he examined the wound. She hadn't recognized the expression Alphinaud wore when he had found her. What was it?

It's understandable that he's angry with me. I did disobey orders after all... Selena first concluded, grimacing and tensing up from another sharp pain as her flesh reknitted itself with Alphinaud's restorative magic. If she hadn't been wearing gloves, her nails would have dug into her palms.

Wait, could it be that he's afr-? She wondered, but her thoughts were interrupted as the bits of shrapnel were pushed out of her wound by his restorative magic. The pain prompted her to rest her head on her knees and breathe a curse under her breath.

Such intensity was unbecoming of him, no matter how justified. Still, he could not afford to walk back anything now. Clearly, Selena had a penchant for simply being uncooperative.

He glanced at his Onyx Carbuncle, then stood up.

Hearing her name being called out, Selena momentarily looked up to notice Alphinaud had not been far behind his carbuncle. Her shoulders drop in relief. The keybearer recalled why she had stolen the uniform in the first place: that she did not ask for permission to join the assault and disobeyed orders.

"A-Alphinaud..." Selena grimaced, briefly glancing down at her injury on her side, then peered back at him through the hood. She knew that she was in safe hands now that he was here. The keybearer hissed from the sharp pain and breathed heavily as her blood-stained hands kept pressure on the wound.

Yet, there is this cold sense of dread and guilt from being caught sinking into her stomach. She knew that she wasn't supposed to be here. This was a war that Selena wasn't supposed to play a part in, even a paltry one, and she's here, hurting after doing just that. She also knew that this scenario, of herself getting hurt or worse, was a distinct possibility.

Alphinaud took a breath and knelt down.

"Move your hands," he ordered sharply instead. "Don't argue with me."

When she complied, he focused solely on examining the wound. Brushing back the fabric around the exposed skin, he shook his head but said nothing. One palm hovered over it, and he focused his aether to start to knit the wound up.

His heart was pounding, the thrum of it echoing in his head. Flashbacks to Lord Haurchefant yet still haunted him. The wound had been too deep to knit closed -- but this one was not. This was not a mortal wound. She was still alive.

Borrowing an Ala Mhigan Resistance uniform was not a decision the keybearer made lightly. Slipping into their ranks was easy enough. Her guilt ran deep, churned her stomach, and rewound memory after memory.

Fact remains that I've not once corrected the error. Took advantage of it, and their history to rewrite my own past. 'Tis the least I could do to atone for it... Selena mused to herself, tugging the hood down and flicking her wrist to call the Heartsickness keyblade to her hand.

Amidst the chaos of the infighting, the keybearer had lost track of the soldiers she had entered the Ala Mhigan Quarter with. Selena held her own, exchanging blows with the Imperials and knocking them down. She aimed to disarm and knock them out, killing only when absolutely necessary. Not the best trait for a soldier in the midst of a war.

Selena suddenly hears cannon fire landing and exploding behind her. Crying out when a sharp pain sears up her side as the shrapnel strikes her. Leaving behind a trail of blood droplets, she dragged herself around a corner, unaffected by the surrounding smoke, to inspect the wound.

"Shit...I could freeze it to stop the bleeding...Hm?" The keybearer hissed, setting the keyblade down as she examined the injury, only looking up after spotting the small creature running up to her, "A carbuncle...?"

Selena had been stationed to assist elsewhere. She was not supposed to be in the Ala Mhigan Quarter-- and yet, undeniably, that was her. Aggravation flared in him, but he couldn't spend time on it. He was needed amidst the fray, and he could -- would speak with her later.

-- But then, of course -- canon fire. Inevitable with the castrum's defenses, it rattled the bones of every soldier on the field. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Selena double over in pain. Had she been hit?

His carbuncle instinctively ran ahead to check on her, and he followed suit.