The Helix of Life.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Vaari Taivas has collapsed in his arms and in then his blade has clattered to the ground. Black Wind need only say his name and point in order to have jade eyes looking downward at the crystal weapon before them.

It is - not his to wield - but yet it cannot be left behind. So he is doing his best to juggle the body in his arms so he can bend down to lift the blade from the dirt and replace it back into its health upon the General's belt.

Once again he is lifting the man into his arms so he can carry him. Jade eyes are raising to his other as he sighs behind his mask.

He can't say he blames White Cloud for being uneasy at the Earl's relative silence the past months.

Silence means plans are being made and bound to set into motion soon, and White Cloud is -

He cannot be caught by Gaudium again. Not with the state of the Maken, and not with the state of his mind, and certainly not with the state of his family.

"We will take care of him with the others," he replies, even though 'we' won't be part of the equation if his current track record has anything to say about it. They simply do not like Windarians - but no one seems to grasp he doesn't even think of himself as one. Maybe that would change if he met another one of his people, but... likely not. He is in a class not of species, but of immortality, and White Cloud is the only other member.

The other Knight - Tuulta, he thinks his name is - will be able to help far more than either of them can.

:¨༺ ✩★✩ ༻¨:·. This man is awkward and he doesn't know if it's because he's the only Windarian left or if inheriting a God just came with some kind of misfit personality tax. Pilvi was awkward too. In eerily similar ways. That being this strange way of speaking that was too formal and didn't just say the point. Pilvi did something similar but it was more the lacking concern for emotions when he spoke.

Pilvi called this man "His Other" and he can't say he completely understands what that means but Nibada never disputes it and yet she never explains. Is Lady Tiamat like this with his prince just as well?

He finds himself intrigued however that his invite was accepted and the man - this Windarian - actually sits. He explains that they have the same enemy and they want the same things and of those things he somehow finds himself in disagreement but he'll remain cordial because he doesn't seem like he's willing to cause any harm - for now.

The warrior goes on further to explain that he will not be going anywhere and they will not be going anywhere so they need to "end" this "pointless resentment".

So the historian is sighing as he lets his hands fold into his lap on top of the book he was reading while he tries to forumlate the best way to explain how this warrior has already follied and intensely so.

"I'm going to need you to be a bit more careful with your words, Black Wind. Our resentment has nothing to do with you as a person and everything to do with what your people did to ours. We have knights in our ranks and you can't expect them to drop years of training to fight against your people in a blink. We have children of knights and you also cannot expect them to put down something they have carried their whole lives in a breath. I am not saying it is impossible. I am saying it is far more delicate than the care you seem to be showing it - or lack thereof I really should be saying.

You cannot force or fumble your way through this. Your people killed ours and for many of us it is deeply personal as an issue. My bond, Aamunkoitto's parents were both knights. Sitriini's father was too and he was killed in action. Said man was Tuulta's best friend. He was there on the frontlines when his squadron and his best friend were wiped off the map. To say the resentment is pointless already shows an extreme lack of care for the feelings of the other side.

He's known from the start that this was bound to end poorly. Not a day in his recent life has he ever been good with conversation.

Valo tells him to be more careful with his wording. He tells him that there is no "pointless" resentment. He explains these things as if Misterica had not done the same to his people as Windaria did to theirs.

And that's just it. It had all been pointless. The war, the slaughter, the hatred - all of it by careful design to corrupt both kingdoms so that they could later be ripped to shreds. Distracted, bitter enemies cannot unite against a common evil.

Beyond that, he feels a slight twinge of frustration in his chest at the reminder of Windaria at all. It's gone, both from the universe and his memory.

He may as well be some other species entirely. White Cloud knows more about his home than he does and he finds it difficult to care about something he can't even conjure mental imagery of.

To some extent, though, Valo is right.

They are complete people with lives and culture and memories and other things he no longer has the privilege of owning himself. They have so much more to draw from and sometimes that fact slips his mind. Sometimes he feels almost like he's emulating a person rather than being one himself.

Today is no different.

"I remember nothing of Windaria," he explains. "I have nothing left of it. Not the war, not my culture, not my history, barely the language. Nothing. It is all entirely gone and died with Windaria. I am certain White Cloud knows far more about my home than I ever will."

"You are not obstacles. It is merely impossible to work with any of you if you are against me based on a matter of species which is why I spoke to you today. Bahamut and Tiamat hold no ill will towards each other. They are twins. The war was never about them. It was all violence designed to strengthen Chaos, so I would prefer we set it aside and move forward for the sake of my-"

He can say it. Just this once, right?

It's not as if Chaos has no idea of their relationship. Still, it comes out much smaller, much softer than any of his previous words, barely a whisper on the wind.

( @helixoflife ) ->

✨📚+

None of the attempts at communication with White Cloud's family have gone particularly well. Sielu was feral and Revon was cordial yet guarded. At least Revon hadn't gone worse than that. He can handle cordial just fine, but it doesn't help White Cloud at all. Or Cid. Or himself. Whether they realize it or not, they're all going to have to get comfortable with each other sooner or later. He knows the chances of being on a first-name basis are slim to none, and he doesn't really care about that. He just needs somewhere between 'aware of each other' and 'cooperating'. Closer to cooperating, for White Cloud's sake, because he can't- and shouldn't - bear all of the weight of sorting through petty arguments. At the same time, the only solution is not an option either. He could very well just leave for their comfort, but he won't. He refuses to let anyone - family or not - get in between him and his Other. And so comes attempt number three, this time with Valo, and he's damn sure he's probably not pronouncing that quite right to himself. Best not to use a name at all, then. "Hey. You," he calls into the Comodeen's library towards the man. What comes next? White Cloud usually follows up the attention-grabbing part with something else to check if the interaction is allowed, right? If he follows White Cloud's formula, he might just get somewhere yet. Begrudgingly, he adds, "Do you have a moment?"

·:¨༺ ✩★✩ ༻¨:·. It's not a voice he's expecting to hear and quite frankly it's not a voice he's ever heard much of at all. Mint eyes are looking for the book in his hands as he glances towards the door way and sees the image of black filling up his vision. His head tilts to the side ever so much as he glances from the Windarian to the chair next to him for a moment before he marks his place and folds the book close in his lap.

"My name is not you. It's Valo." The historian starts as he motions to one of the empty chairs in the room. He can't help but wonder why the man is talking to him of all people. It does leave him curious however.

Nousi doesn't have anything good to say about him and Revon is ... conflicted. Pilvi has nothing but rave reviews while Sielu would probably bite him if he could get away with it... and Sitriini... well he's never heard him cuss so much in a single sentence...

The reviews he's getting back of this Windarian are mixed if anything so he can't deny the fact it leaves him curious and it leaves the voice that lives in the back of his mind whispering that a conversation might do them all some good.

Names sure seem important to Mistericans. He can't say he understands it himself.

Maybe, once upon a time, they meant something to him as well. Currently, though, any of his own names are simply sounds one can use to get his attention.

If correct names are what it takes to work with them, that's just what he'll have to do.

Valo invites him to sit, which is already much farther than he's gotten with anyone else in White Cloud's family. He crosses the room in only two strides, unceremoniously dropping his weight into the chair next to the small orange-haired man.

"We want the same things," he begins, "and we have the same enemy."

Already, this is far too many words. Already, he has met and exceeded his yearly quota of a small handful. He sighs as he lowers the bottom half of his face into the collar of his cloak.

'It's for White Cloud,' he reminds himself.

heavily considering that i use latin as a stand-in for windarian instead because... i learned a decent amount of it for choir and i literally never use it. i also think using a dead language is more "fitting". because. windaria is. built around the afterlife

for the mun — deep, fun, structural, stylistic questions about your writing craft

✍️ — what’s your favourite part of crafting a scene?

🔍 — what tiny writing detail do you fixate on the most?

📖 — do you write in long flowing paragraphs or sharp, short lines?

💬 — how do you approach dialogue vs. narration?

🧠 — what is one writing rule you break constantly?

🧩 — what’s the hardest thing for you to write?

🎨 — what aesthetic best describes your writing style?

😩 — which trope do you struggle with even though you love it?

🔥 — what trope do you write effortlessly?

🕯️ — what emotional tone do you fall into naturally?

📎 — are you a heavy planner or a “vibes first, sort it out later” writer?

🎧 — do you write to music or silence?

💭 — what’s a line or scene you’re secretly very proud of?

🌙 — do your muses speak easily, or do you drag the words out of them?

⏳ — what’s your writing speed: fast, slow, or “depends on planetary alignment”?

🖋️ — do you prefer descriptive richness or minimalist clarity?

🧃 — what’s your “writer comfort drink”?

🔗 — what theme or motif keeps appearing in your writing unintentionally?

🧵 — how do you weave emotion into your scenes?

⋆｡°• ☁︎ •°｡⋆ He says that the damned demon gun will not fire on "it's other" - whatever that means and then he goes further to say that his prince is in the library? Does he mean Pilvi? Did he survive? There's no way that's true. He saw that grand dragon that was Lady Tiamat no doubt struck from the heavens by Bahamut himself.

He saw them fall. He saw her die. He saw the day hope fell from the heavens and he's been doing his best to survive this hell ever since. There was no way that any of that was true and surely hess trying to play mind games on him. Surely this is all just a ploy to get him to lower his defenses -

"Vaari Taivas."

The voice is just as small as he remembers it. He knows that voice anywhere and it's impossible for it to be such an accurate illusion. He's almost afraid to turn around as his grip on his sword falters a little bit when he feels a body collide with his from behind. Slowly do sky eyes sink down to look at the thin arms that wrap around him and he sees the sleeves of white that run just a bit too long that he just - he can't forget.

"P-Pilvi?"

There's a crack in his voice that shouldn't be present in front of the enemy but he hasn't made a move to attack him and he hasn't heard a voice he knows in so long. Years - decades even. Thunder Wave is crashing to the ground before he realizes what he's done. He's turning around in those arms so quickly to envelope the boy in his own embrace faster than he's moved in a long time.

He may not have Helakan anymore but at least he has Pilvi. Of course, he should have known that not even Bahamut himself could strike him down. He just needs to hold him for a minute. He just needs to squish him to his chest. He just needs to bury his face in his hair and -

There are many things to be said here about Mistericans in general.

Their people's resilience in the face of a cataclysm and its decades-long aftermath along with their connections to one another and just how deep those connections appear to run are both worthy of note. Not that he'll do anything in particular with the information, of course.

He simply files it away for later. For now, White Cloud has come to the rescue much like he always does.

If he's certain of nothing else in the universe, White Cloud coming when he needs him is an inevitability.

White Cloud himself often feels like an inevitability and he wonders often if his kin know just how immensely powerful their Prince is. 

Still, this is no time to wonder about Mistericans or White Cloud or the lingering question of whether his own people are stranded or long since dead.

This is the time to assist in carrying the man back "home" - more home to him than to White Cloud - because he falls completely unconscious in the swordsman's arms.

The grand blue sword that clatters to the path underfoot probably shouldn't be left behind. It is no Maken, but from what he understands the blade still bears significance. He kneels to grab it, though his hand cannot even begin to close before there is a jolt of energy repelling him from it.

The message is quite clear: This blade is not his to wield, even for as well-intentioned as the action may be. The Mistericans' weapons must be quite selective about who can handle them, and a soul of pure Soil like himself is sure to be at the bottom of the list.

i wanted to write because my muse for EVERYONE is super fucking high right now but then i got distracted and now i'm too tired. :(

⋆｡°• ☁︎ •°｡⋆ The beast raises his arm and it shows a cylinder of pure gold. That must be the demon gun that he used to take Pilvi away. To create the havoc he wrought on Misterica that ultimately brought her to her end. His teeth grit behind his mask as it flows back and he is growling out the thinnest blue that has ever left him in his life.

It's hardly visible to any eye at this point.

He's sour beyond sour and it's a miracle he hasn't dropped and faded yet. He can do it after he deals with this monster.

"You know what you did. You took Misterica from us. You cast us all into this damnable hell, Bahamut. You took Lady Tiamat and the prince away. You know what you have done, don't play stupid."

His stance faulters if only for a moment, for the knight to take time to correct in seconds as he continues to growl.

This man is in no shape to wield a sword this way. And yet, for as weak as he is, he stands strong in his convictions.

In a twist of cosmic irony, Destruction will have to be the first to lay down his arms, then.

He can't even find it within himself to fire on one of White Cloud's kind. Truly, he's not even certain that it's possible.

Bahamut would never allow it, even for as much as the birds seem to annoy him most days. A deep scoff sounds from within the back of his mind at the idea and the technically-correct form of address, only audible to him.

Slowly, he pulls the Magun back to its resting place beneath his cloak. The stumbling Knight won't be able to fell him today.

"The Magun will not fire on its Other," he replies. Of course it won't. Bahamut tolerates Tiamat even more than he tolerates his chosen inheritant or his own children.

If the old man were capable of liking someone, it would likely be Tiamat and none else.