Illfated Rex

Moonflower was angry. The glimpses the Echo was giving her of the pilots of the Weapons were, in a word, heart-wrenching. And it fueled her latent hatred of the Garlean Empire. 

She’d felt trapped, once the truth behind Oversoul came to light. They’re too young, her mind screamed, even though she wasn’t that much older. This isn’t fair. But nothing is fair, Moonflower. If things were fair… Moonflower stopped thinking and tried to keep the Emerald pilot from killing himself. Oversoul still activated and she knew she would be spending the next few days in bed, wishing she could defeat death and raging at the Empire for stealing more lives.

Except the pilot, Rex, hadn’t died. So Moonflower argued her way into his infirmary room and helped look after him. I couldn’t save the other two, but I can save you. Was it desperation? Definitely. But she refused to let this one die. Just this once, she would defeat death and steal his prey from his jaws.

Then he woke up between her visits, and he spoke to her in a churlish, distrustful tone. “Chastise?” she repeated, and seated herself next to his bed. “No. You did what you thought was right. I didn’t have to like it, though.” Too many people in her life had done similar things. You made me kill you, and I don’t like doing that.

“You already know my name, and I already know yours, but just to be clear, you may call me Moonflower or Miss Fey.” If he would call her anything at all.

Moonflower? What kind of name was... “Alright, Miss Fey,” he said, unable to fully keep the edge of sarcasm from coloring his tone. There was no anger behind it. He was just... He wasn’t even sure. Annoyed? Frustrated? But with himself.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t even supposed to be possible.

“It doesn’t matter if you agree or not. It was what we had to do.” His eyes closed as Rex began to feel the full extent of his exhaustion starting to creep in. Oh... he was tired.  He wanted to just stop, melt into the ground and no longer be.

Another Ask Meme | @moonflowersmailbox​

His head was spinning as he groaned softly, unaware that the noise had even escaped him. 

Oversoul and its long term effects was still unknown. Of course it was; no one was supposed to be able to survive experiencing it. And it was why Rex was locked away - both because he was, technically, a war criminal, but he was also tainted and exposed. Was it dangerous? For him? For others?

He could swear he could see his father standing there, chiding him. Judging him. 

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He knew her words were meant to be caring, but it was hard to feel anything outside of the ever-growing sense of numb. It had started deep in his chest before beginning to slowly ease outward, spreading through his veins to reach the tips of his fingers and down into his toes. It was a dangerous feeling, one that he could easily lose himself in, but in this moment there was a comfort to just... feel nothing.

“There isn’t anything that could be change.” After all, they had known they could run away at any time. They were the children of Gaius von Baelsar; running would have been barely an afterthought for them.

But--

But--

Valens would have just found someone new to replace them.

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It was a hard question to answer. Rex didn’t want to be here, and he didn’t want to be alone. It had been a long time since he had actually spent a night alone; before there had almost always been at least one of his siblings, or... 

Other... ways to ensure that he wasn’t left in a dark room to just think.

But M’firhi wasn’t his friend. He wasn’t something that Rex could truly open up to. As much as part of him wanted to, Rex had to keep reminding him of the fact that M’firhi was part of the enemy. It was an ambiguous term that held little meaning to it now, but there was little else for him to hold onto to try to keep from slipping into what felt like an endless pit of despair. 

There had to be an other to fight against, or else his fight would have been for nothing. 

injury/hurt prompts | @emeraldweapon

The question caught him off guard, and the auri found himself glancing over at the lalafell, unsure of how to actually... respond. Telling the truth was the obvious route to go and likely the response he should have been going with, but no one ever really wanted to hear the truth. No one wanted to actually deal with it.

And he really wasn’t doing... the badly. He was... existing? Surviving. What more could he ask for?

He had never seen another auri before. Not one that hadn’t been one of his siblings, not one that was free. So there was little wonder that he might have been staring, unnaturally glowing eyes fixated on the woman that had killed his sister, killed his brother, and who should have killed him.

Why the latter hadn’t happened, Rex really didn’t know. It was likely just a cruel trick of fate, but who was he to question it?

There weren’t many miqo’te that were part of the empire. At least, not many that had been in Rex’s line of work - if one could really call it that. There may have been a few passing glances here and there, but he couldn’t recall ever really spending time with another, let alone talking to them. 

Which was perhaps just an overcomplicated way to word that he found himself glancing over at the woman perhaps just a bit too much, brow furrowed and gaze curiosity. It wasn’t like there were many other places for him too look, stuck in the makeshift infirmary, but staring so openly was a move that would have earned him his brother’s ire and laughter.

His gaze was fixed almost stubbornly on the floor of the make-shift infirmary, refusing to let it lift for even a moment. What right did he have to make eye contact with him? The Warrior of Light?

He wasn’t even supposed to be alive. 

His eyes, glowing a near-supernatural gold from the unearthly amounts of aether that had flooded his form, were narrowed as he glared at the woman in front of him. The Warrior of Light. A figure that he had known long before now, one he had known from his own childhood.

Mina Oronir. Varis’ lapdog.

Yellow eyes, glowing preternaturally from the influx of aether from the oversoul, stared dimly up at the ceiling above him. It was pockmarked, stained, and weathered from age, but it appeared in fair condition. The same could be said of any portion of the building around him; fair and worn but cared for. A clear sign of the possession of those who had little and intended to make use of what they had for as long as they could.

“How long will I be held here?” 

He should not have been alive.

This fact was not lost on Rex. He had stepped into the Emerald weapon with the full expectations that he would not be returning. That he would be dying at the hands of the oversoul. He would join his siblings and he would be content with the knowledge that he had helped to lay the groundwork that would allow Alfonse and Allie to survive. Or, at least... one of them would.

When the oversoul had been activated, he had felt his own consciousness being erased in favor of his father’s. And then...

And then blissfully nothing.

And then pain.

He had been told he had been found in the cockpit, body bloodied and battered as he was slumped over the broken control console, but he was still alive and breathing. He had been rushed to a makeshift infirmary at Terncliff where he had been both treated and placed under-- well. It could hardly be considered arrest, but the cuff that chained him to the bed when he awoke made it clear he wasn’t meant to just walk away.

I don’t think he’s resentful towards them, and had even planned to use them to power the oversoul and, in turn, cause Rex’s death. He definitely isn’t afraid of them though.