Well, it is truly sad to see Koi’s closing, though I’m glad that I can reflect on all of the good times I had while here and smile.
I’m not sure what I’ll be doing with this blog as of yet, but I’ve been planning to make an indie multi-muse blog for a while, so this blog may be converted into that! In the event that occurs, please feel free to softblock/unfollow at your leisure.
Once more, it’s been a blast. Stay safe out there everyone <3
EDIT: Oh yeah, if you wanna, my twitter can be found right here.
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While perhaps not the friendliest of people, he’s not particularly looking to antagonize here. His guard isn’t down, by any means, but he knows it’d be far from a good idea to openly pick a fight like that— self-preservation and all that. Come on now, he’s a little sharper than that; careful judgment of the situation here, regardless of who might have the upper hand here.
And okay, he knows working in groups is easier, if not in efforts, then information; it is good to hear thoughts that aren’t his own, even if opinions might not entirely agree with his train of thought. It’s hard to say what is of most benefit in a situation like this, after all. “Sure, naturally, that is a safe assumption. People usually don’t do things without reason.” But what that reason might have to do with them is what really has him gnawing at his lip. And time, of course, is something they are, in a sense, limited in; so the fact that these efforts might be all for naught is also, less than pleasant to consider. “Definitely looks that way…and yet long ago enough that they could have sent someone back surely…unless something stopped them, perhaps?” He’s just musing at this point, really; not that it really does him any good to do so. “Still, it could be any number of things, so it’d probably be good to get a move on before we have some unwanted company.” Gaze is contemplative, for a moment, before sparing other a look. “Any preference on where we should start?”
* The young man is astute which Claude can appreciate. Far be it from him to pass up on an opportunity to work with someone who had a head on his shoulders. His easy smile quirks a tad more as he listens, turning over the other’s observations. He’s not wrong by any stretch, though there’s so much they don’t know that it’s easy for anything at this moment to sound correct.
He’s not a fan of uncertainty. All the more reason to get to the bottom of this soon.
“Right you are. Now then...” His eyes scan their surroundings. They certainly weren’t short on options. “I was going to make my way down this leftmost hallway. I’ve gone the opposite direction, but I’ve heard down here there may be some offices. Sound good to you?”
Looking back at the leviathan isn’t what Linhardt’s focus is on. They figure Claude’s already doing what he can with it, and so their attention is on what lies in front of them.
The blood he lost was sure to attract more of the sharks, so that was their main focus. Aside from running and keeping pace, that was. Chewing at their lip a bit, they weighed their options of spells in their head for a moment. They were under water—so what little wind magic they had was important to use, but magic was still magic. Would their fire at least stand a chance to help? Well. One thing was sure to work.
Though it was limited.
Preparing the spell, they glanced around a bit to see if anything was coming toward them. When it looked that, for the time being they were in the clear other than the beast behind them, they quickly turned around and stopped dead in their tracks. There was no way they could aim this properly while moving. In one quick motion, they released the spell, watching as the ground below the leviathan cracked open to spray the magma up onto the beast.
“Thankfully volcanoes can still exist under water,” they note as they turn and continue running, not wasting time to see if it caused enough damage to slow the thing down or if it was even still alive. “Maybe if we’re lucky the water will cool it down fast enough to lock the thing in place. But don’t rely on that.”
* His focus is pulled the moment Linhardt casts that spell. An eruption of flames and magma surely enough to stun the leviathan, but also enough to draw attention -- attention that they’d worked hard to draw away from themselves. Claude bites his lip, but has to take this loss. They had to fight now, there was no stopping that.
The sharks were back on them once more, teeth thrashing, powerful bodies rushing their way through the current. He side steps one, though a fang tears through his shirtsleeve. The next he has no choice to draw his sword for, ducking beneath it to draw a long gash under its belly. He narrowly avoids most of the blood that follows. Most of it.
As if they had any time to think about appearances right now.
“To the left! We have to head towards the left!” He yells over the cacophony. Frantic people, raging monsters, and the everpresent threat of a watery grave... it was impressive either of them could keep a level head, but what were they if not soldiers trained to stare death in the eye?
He has no choice but to trust Linhardt will follow him as he starts in the direction he called for. It seemed like an opening, or at least a gap in the groups of beasts that were starting to file in. He wanted to grab their arm again, even lift them if he could, but they were further apart now. The best he could do was rush forth and turn to cover for them once he was in a clearer area. Far from ideal.
Eyes diverting from the beast, they moved to Claude as they knelt down beside him. The blood was definitely evident now that they looked at it, and they took a moment to be glad that such a wound was something that was run of the mill now. A fact they also lamented.
Quickly preparing a healing spell, they eased it along the gash as quickly as they could, but ensured that they still went slow in order to get it all. A half healed wound wouldn’t be much better than simply slapping some bandages on it and saying to power through.
“All done,” they announced before standing back up, already grabbing Claude by the arm and tugging to keep moving. “Let’s hope that’s the worst injury you or I sustain through this, hm?”
* Claude didn’t let his gaze leave the winding monstrosity before them, and once the thing shook off its pain, the eye contact was mutual. It reminded him of both hunting and the various monsters he’d had to take down back in Fodlan. Predator and prey, but who was who?
Even with the healing magic knitting together his skin, there’s no change in his expression. The leviathan is winding up again, and he has no time to let that wash of recovery settle in and calm him. He gives a nod.
“Let’s hope,” he adds in, almost an afterthought given their pressing situation. “Alright, let’s move!” As he starts to run, he looses the arrow. This time, he aims for the snake’s open mouth. It hits. His lip tugs upwards just a smidge, but all he can do is focus on getting to the exit. That thing could move faster than them; how long would stunning it last?
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As much as they wish they could say they could have evaded this on their own, that would be a lie.
Were it not for Claude, Linhardt would have surely lost a limb, or even half of themself, in the beast’s jaws. The other man’s reflexes were much quicker than their own, and this was probably going to be the first of many times in the next few minutes Claude would have to get them out of a sticky situation.
They only hoped that they could repay the favor.
Biting down on their tongue when the two of them rolled, the taste of iron filled their own mouth, but it was better than any other injury they could sustain. Collecting themself the best they could and doing the best they could to focus on the other’s words, they prepared another spell, glancing over to Claude and giving a nod.
“I’m fine, thank you,” the response is breathier than they want it to be. “What about yourself? I can heal you if you want but just give me a second—”
As they spoke, they turned and released a cutting gale at the leviathan’s tail that was snaking around to try and knock into them, promptly slicing into the flesh—but not through it. These were tougher than sharks. Good thing to note.
“We should probably keep moving regardless. The closer we get to making distance the better. I’d rather neither of us lose our heads.”
* The truth was he hadn’t made it out of that scrape unscathed. Though he stood in a sturdy stance, the blood soaking through his pants from a large gash was hard to ignore. It was his instinct to power through such injuries, but if it inhibited his ability to run, it was better to tend to it.
“My leg,” Claude half-orders as he nocks another arrow. “Would love to run right now but I’d hobble at best I’m afraid.” He’s calm regardless, loosing the arrow and aiming for an eye. It misses by a hair, but the beast reels anyway. Failnaught’s supernatural strength was enough to pierce past the scales, but it was compensation at best for what could have been a far better shot. That’s what he got for trying to power through the pain.
“As soon as you heal me, we’ll have to bolt again, okay?” Another arrow was drawn. Internally, he’s keeping count. Though he has the sword he bought to lean on, he hoped he wouldn’t have to only rely on his secondary weapon. In a case like that, he doubted their chances of escape.
The next few moments happened a bit faster than expected.
At one moment, Linhardt was standing for a brief respite, one Claude was seeming to need as well, and the next… Their arm was gripped, they were tugged, and it was much faster than anticipated. The stumble this time was not as easily recovered from as the last. Their feet were not catching the ground as needed, so it was only a matter of time until they tripped and fell.
And what a terrible place to do such a thing, as well.
Groaning a bit as they pushed themselves upright again, they looked over at what their foot had caught onto—only to see it move and shift. Eyes quickly moving along and up, they watched as one of the leviathans stirred. Slowly backing up, they reached out to try and grab onto Claude to ensure he was still there.
“Claude,” the spoke up, voice unusually even for the situation. “I believe we now have another issue at hand.”
* Just as things were starting to look promising.
He feels when Linhardt hits the ground, the weight pulling down his arm. He’s quick to turn. He starts to speak, only to end up staring, wordless, eyes wide.
His breath is caught in his throat as he stares, the winding, unfurling monster slowly rousing. His heartbeat is in his ears. They’re horribly unprepared, and even if they can take on this beast, there’s still the vast amount of other monsters to deal with. A litany of prayers is repeated over and over in his head, but it’s no use. The snake spots them.
He has one second to move.
“Watch out!!!”
Grabbing Linhardt, Claude dives. He’s just fast enough to evade the beast’s jaws. Holding them close, he rolls, trying to ensure most of their impact against the ground is taken by himself. He stops their turning with his elbow, and tries to let them go as carefully yet quickly as he can.
“Are you okay?!” He has to say it faster than he wants, has to stand and draw his bow faster than he wants. “Well, there goes that part of the plan I guess, but one is better than many!”
Clamor of Leviathan’s madness pursues civilians bodies of acquaintance and adversary drift lifelessly and forgotten within disorganization don’t look back, keep moving, get to exit before catching your breath. It is not as easy a feat as it sounds. Staircase jam-packed, teeming with terror-stricken casualties; even the most cool-headed residents looked shaken. Overworked. Everyone must be exhausted. To a certain degree, however, they were out of harm’s way. Passage to surface could handle weight if everyone was crowded inside and no structural damage had yet presented itself. You were okay. It’s alright. Just for now, taking a much-needed breath is all you can do.
Wails, startled and spine-chilling, resonate. A Leviathan has surrounded the stairwell! Glancing upward, its tail comes crashing through glass :: you and all those poor souls who’d been waiting behind you are flung back into the ocean while those ahead of you remain safely tucked in the remaining framework. People are desperately swimming, trying to get back inside only for large, unrelenting teeth snatching them beyond reach and into the depths. Their cries and death pleas cut short. All you manage is aiding a few back to safety, watching them being pulled back in passage before you, too, are ripped away.
* The technology on this island was something to investigate. Claude had been doing his best to learn as much as he could, determined to be on par with the residents. It was a lofty endeavor, but he was making progress. He enjoyed sharing his findings with those he knew, and that’s exactly why he’d invited Dimitri to his apartment.
The “cell phone” was plugged into the “speakers” using the “aux cord”, a “music app” on screen. Not wanting to ruin his demonstration, Claude had played with the setup prior, but he still remained only half confident that everything would work correctly. It still looked like magic, and the stare Dimitri directed at the electronics during the explanation told him he wasn’t alone in that opinion.
His single eye widened when the music began. Claude found himself as taken with the sounds as he was with Dimitri’s reactions. He’d left part of what played up to chance, for better or for worse. Some pieces had them swaying along. Others, grimacing and cringing with Claude eagerly pressing skip. But, for the most part, they sat together wordless, an occasional glance thrown between them that mutually asking “can music sound like that?”
As much as he enjoyed their joint exploration, Claude had other plans. In his experiments, he’d managed to find songs that reminded him of Fodlan: symphonic, grand, and far easier on the ears. It got them talking again, as they were no longer taking in something novel, but basking in familiarity.
“This kind of music reminds me of the ball,” Claude muses, a tentative glance thrown towards Dimitri. While most had agreed that their time at the Officer’s Academy held better days, the bittersweet nature of them often make it a subject his ex-classmates don’t want to discuss. When he doesn’t receive a hostile response, he continues. “That sure was an event, huh? The decorations, the food, the music... I prefer my parties less stuffy, but it was lots of fun. Too bad about the dancing though.”
“Oh?” He’s earned an inquisitive look from Dimitri, “I would have thought that out of everything, the dancing would be what you enjoyed the most.”
“I mean,” Claude starts, waving a hand half-dismissively, “the dancing’s okay, but noble dances are so... stuffy. It’s not bad when you’re dancing with the right person though.”
“Hmm... If I recall, you did not dance with many people there.”
“Oh? Were you watching me? I’m flattered, your majesty.” His teasing seems to take Dimitri off base, but Claude continues before an objection can be raised. “You’re right though. Honestly there weren’t many people I could dance with. Would raise too many eyebrows, cause others too many inconveniences, etc.” He sighs, already wanting to be rid of the path this topic could lead down. “Anyway, you were quite popular, o shining prince. The ladies were practically lining up at the chance to be in your arms.”
“It wasn’t-- it was more trouble than you make it sound.” Dimitri sighs. “I would have preferred to dance with ‘the right person’ myself.” He looks off towards the speaker system, chin perched in his hand. “Enjoying each other’s company because one wants to, not out of obligation...”
The room goes quiet, sans for sloping strings. They remain still, Claude watching the king and ruminating on his words. He has to look away before he speaks:
“We could dance...”
All of Dimitri’s surprise is directed directly at him. It takes Claude a moment to realize those words were out loud.
“I mean-- it could be fun, right? It doesn’t have to be some super formal thing. Weren’t you saying before that you kinda like dancing anyway?” Now that he’s talking, he can’t stop. “Up to you though. We can just sit here. Music’s nice, right? And the technology is amazing, so--”
“Yes.”
That single word silences Claude. He's wide-eyed, searching for any sign that Dimitri is joking. He doesn’t find it. Instead, the other man stands, clears his throat, and offers his hand.
“Claude, may I have this dance?”
And Claude freezes.
This is not a ballroom with glistening chandeliers, guests in ritzy accouterments, and a full chamber band. They're in an apartment in some other world, under low light, music stemming from a recording trapped in a box. But, there stands Dimitri in a perfect half bow that must have been schooled into him since when was a child. He eyes him with sincerity that’s always impressed Claude.
Claude gives a breathy chuckle and let's the warmth flow through him.
"Shouldn't I be the one offering like that? It was my idea after all." But even with his comment, he doesn't let Dimitri back pedal. A calloused hand is taken with a calloused hand. "You may, your majesty."
He'll remember the smile his acceptance earns forever.
They walk to the "dance floor", and Claude is quicker to put his hand on Dimitri's waist than vice versa. The king gives him a look, to which Claude replies that as he's the one with less experience, he should be the one to take the position he's more comfortable in. Surely his highness can adapt properly, right? Dimitri mutters something about it being five years since he's even thought about dancing, but places his hand on Claude's shoulder anyway.
They waltz easy circles around the living room. Besides his feet, Claude finds the only thing there is to stare at is Dimitri.
Champagne hair sways as they move, passing over his eye and eye patch. Said crystal iris is focused. Claude doubts it will ever lose the pierce light blue naturally has, but with his deceptively long eyelashes and pupil blown wide, it’s tame.
This is the first time he gets to think on how Dimitri has grown, their once small difference in height much larger. That’s not all that’s changed, Claude realizes. His features are sharper: stronger jawline, firmer nose, more prominent cheek bones. He was never a soft-looking man. and the changes are subtle, but they’re there.
There’s a scar peeking past the collar of his shirt, another one scraping across the back of his hand. There must be a scar where his right eye should be. His scant remaining boyhood is gone.
So lost in thought is Claude that he neglects to watch his feet. He trips, they both gasp, but before he can fall, he’s caught, pulled close, and steadied in strong arms. Claude grips Dimitri’s sleeve as he reorients. He turns his head and opens his mouth only to close it.
They’re close. Very close. Close enough for Claude to feel Dimitri’s breath ghost over his lips and quicken his pulse.
But he can’t move. It’s warm in these arms, he realizes. Secure in this grip. Dimitri looks as startled as Claude feels, but at this distance, he can’t miss the feathery pink spread on his cheeks.
That blue, blue eye reflects him like a mirror. Like ice coating a lake.
It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.
That’s when Claude knows he has to pull away. Fortunately, Dimitri lets go of him without resistance, and they both look anywhere but each other. With nothing else to go on, Claude eventually barks an awkward laugh.
“Sheesh, I knew I wasn’t great at Fodlan dances, but I didn’t think I was that bad.” He forces himself to look back at Dimitri. The blush has spread across his whole face, he notices with a pang of delight. “You okay?”
The transition from that back to normal conversation is rocky, but it happens. Claude is grateful that he can obscure how much it affected him. Mercifully, but at the same time not, it isn’t long after that Dimitri leaves.
As Claude sits alone on his couch, he can’t stop thinking of arms around him, the warmth of shared breaths, and a brilliant eye.
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Breathing out a laugh, they shook their head at the wink Claude gave them, the only response Linhardt deemed was needed for the remark. There were more pressing matters after all.
“That’s quite true, these sharks aren’t too sturdy it seems…” Another spell was cast, the cutting gale unfortunately slicing through one of the sharks this time rather than knocking it to the side. The sight made them ill, but they did not stumble in their stride. “I’m certain were the leviathans awake, we might be dead by now.”
At the mention of aiming for the stairs, they simply nodded before gritting their teeth and pushing a bit ahead of Claude. They were absolutely going to collapse as soon as they got out of this place. “I’m ready whenever, so long as it gets us out.”
* He couldn’t lie, it concerned him that Linhardt already looked so winded. He knew one’s fight or flight response could make them do physical feats they otherwise couldn’t, but that only went so far. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d carry them if necessary, but Claude’s strength lay more in his agility.
But they really didn’t have time to wait. They had to go now or else they’d both die.
The rise and fall of his own chest had deepened, only really noticeable now that they were at a stand still. It seemed the blood drawn from the sharks’ fallen brethren was distraction enough for the predators. That was a boon, at least. Claude counted five golems in their vicinity, all distracted... for now.
“Then let’s go.” His voice was deeper, a baritone that barely broke above the chaos surrounding them. Taking a more sturdy grip on Linhardt’s arm, he runs again, fleet-footed. He doesn’t expect their shot at the stairs to be a straight aim, but that’s his direction anyway. They needed to at least close the distance. As much as they could.
Before they even had the chance to respond, Claude had already gone with shooting the arrow, and they were already being pulled along behind him.
Stumbling a bit at the initial jerk on their arm and the fact the pace was much more than they were anticipating, they eventually managed to even out their foot falls. Somewhat. There was still water everywhere, and they were still not fully recovered from the last run.
“At some point you’ll simply have to carry me on your back,” they practically wheezed out, the hint of a joke to be found in their tone. “But this is at least keeping them distracted for the time being…”
Eyeing the leviathans carefully, they seemed to not stir from their rest. Even still, they readied a spell, not wanting to risk the chance. Plus, there was definitely a shark directly in front of them.
“Duck,” they managed to call out before sending the gust of air directly over Claude’s head, angling it to knock the shark off course even just a bit so they could get past.
“I suppose one can’t fool a shark’s predatory sense of smell. Even if we can fool the golems.”
* Though it looks like Claude isn’t paying attention to whether or not Linhardt could handle themselves at the pace they were running, he was. Their half-joke earns a smirk from him, along with a look thrown over his shoulder.
“Worry not, I’m fully prepared to whisk you into my arms if need be.” He makes sure to punctuate with a wink before turning his attention ahead. His eyes scan over the scene, focusing on the sleeping beasts and on the enemies still trained on them. It seems his scheme couldn’t distract them all, but some was better than none.
Ducking mid-run, the sharp blast of air dishevels some of his hair as he watches it hit the shark. Back in a full stand, he draws his bow once more.
“Guess not, but I’d rather face some of these then everything at once.” Like a flash, an arrow is sent flying into an approaching shark, skewering it in the gills. “We should be able to aim for the stairs now that we’re far enough from the distraction. Ready?”
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While the touch is a bit comforting, it didn’t last very long when their attention was called else where. Looking where Claude had directed to, their eyes widened a bit at the sight. Asleep. The creatures they were worried about facing… were asleep.
What a stroke of luck.
“I don’t think the sharks will be much of an issue,” they whisper back, squinting a bit to plan for a route of movement to take. “Sharks are, normally, quite docile… So long as we are not mistaken for their prey—and we aren’t bleeding which is a boon for us as well.”
“The golems however…”
Biting their lip, they chewed on it a bit. Was there anything that could feasibly take those down or distract them? They really proved the biggest threat now that the leviathans were out. “We’ll have to play that by ear. For now, let’s simply try slipping past the larger beasts and the sharks. If the sharks for some reason come for us, I can try making a current with my magic and blow them away.”
* Were these golems anything like the mechanical monstrosities he faced in Shambalah? The echoes of the cold, drastically new, underground lair pang at the bang of his head and for a moment, Claude winces. The memories are pushed aside for now, with him rationalizing that they had nothing in common.
His fingers tighten around Failnaught and the arrow. They can’t afford to waste time.
He raises both. Bloody red sparks light the head.
“I can’t imagine those things move very fast... but we’re about to find out. Brace yourself and get ready to go.” That’s the only warning he gives. For a moment, his aim is trained on the stone monsters straight ahead... but then it veers hard up and left. The arrow is loosed. A red line slices through a hanging wire, dislodging the precarious tip of a tilting, futuristic building. Almost like slow motion, it falls.
The crash of metal caving in on itself and leaving an impact on the ground is deafening. Water pulses, sprays into the air in a white mist, and... and it seems to be enough. It’s far enough away from the leviathans not to rouse them, but close enough to draw the attention of the stone beasts. As they eye the commotion, Claude swings his bow to his back once more and grabs Linhardt’s sleeve.
“Now!” He pulls them and starts to sprint. Instead of heading towards them, he runs opposite to where he drew their vision -- to what should be a blind spot.
