into the day spun of might, ridden alive by helpless covetousness and unattainable dreams, he came to the battle lands bared of any fear and to the very frontier of hope against that which would destroy life itself ㅡ there were elements of reality that were beyond his half-breed abilities, puddles of energy that sought to expand its borders and thus, causing destruction whenever their limbs reached what was, ultimately, holy. though the ground glistened as if rain itself had fallen, the liquid that shone wasn’t as translucent: pawns in a game of warlords and vainglorious saviours were brought to their demise and those who still grasped the reins of life, would soon join the mantle of the dead. it mattered not how the grounds were putrid with the scent of an imminent loss, however, for the beasts took stock of the outcome, considering their victories in numbers only.
he thought pragmatically, focused on the reduction of suffering whilst trying to attack the fragile spots, but dared not to minimize the beast before him: he knew that one step given wrong would renovate more chaos instead of a peaceful retreat. the battle was not over, the frustration seared upon damaged complexion. how many had fallen before? how many remained strong and able to be sent to the next fight? was he all alone on this one? he rounded up the area for one last moment, mind already lost in devastation ㅡ upon the expanse of his board chest were endless medals won by successful hunts, but this one would have to wait with grim disapproval.
saccharine vocals managed to usher a light to his golden spheres [ a celestial presence, a divinity sent by unthinkable magic ] whilst the bars of his ribcage harboured the fury conceived by an unwanted loss and a sound was thus produced from the coffin of his throat upon trying to mark his presence. ❝ yes… ❞ finding no better position to tolerate the pain, he was sprawled on the floor upon her arrival but managed to adopt a sitting position; not without a growl pushing past his scarred tiers. ❝ if y’ looking for survivors let me sadly announce to you that i’m the only one. ❞ a barely-there, but heavily bitter simper set upon hardened lineaments. ❝ y’ can always give it a go, just to be certain? though i don’t recommend it… that thing is still lurking. ❞
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 '𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄, · 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 ⸻ 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫. There is grievous silence ‘pon her tongue now, an unconscious and mayhap unfair reaction to a loss of precious lives that wasn’t entirely expected: until the very last moment, she had intimately prayed to the grace of Yevon to be welcomed by cheerful and victorious news, by fatigued simpers and bittersweet gestures of jests... Until the very last moment, SHE HAD HOPED.
It is with mastered elegance that she crouches downwards, positioning herself to the side of the mysterious scarred warrior ; her gaze is still low, anchored to a soil no longer flourishing or fertile, as if hypnotized by the splotches of dried ichor scattered all across it. There is a TING OF GUILT, a cold reminder of how useful her powers would have been in battle if only she had been baptized as a full fledged summoner already, a deep sense of regret that turns acrid and wholly poisonous and that almost manages to steal the precious oxygen from her now shrunken lungs. Dainty hands are folded one above the other ‘pon her lap, a futile attempt at ceasing their quivering motions, and finally the young woman turns towards him ; smile is dulcet, albeit drenched in haunting melancholy. ❝ It pains me to know this... I am sorry for your loss. ❞
It matters not whether these FALLEN SOLDIERS were his close friends or simply fleeting acquaintances that he had accidentally encountered down this arduous path of war, the worth of a life cannot be measured solely by the time spent together ⸻ After all, isn’t it customary for people to claim that the strongest bonds are indeed forged ‘pon the fury of the battlefield ? Gentle gaze travels, trails timid paths across his resting silhouette to scan open wounds and bleeding bruises, lingers ‘pon those patches of either skin or fabric tainted by a deeper hue of red and only once she is done, does she languidly reach out to him with an open hand, urging him to take it. ❝ Thankfully, it seems that none of your injuries is life threatening... Yevon must have wanted to bestow his protection upon you. Will you allow me to help you ? I can tend to your worst wounds with my white magic now and then we can return to the village, where the healers will take good care of you. ❞