SEEK KNOWLEDGE

            saying   “ wouldn’t it be  b e t t e r  if you were DEAD? “

                                  There’s a voice howling with the winds outside 

                                     to  love  in the face of  hate… 

"Not at all silly, my lady." He replies almost immediately, delighted to hear the reasons as to her visit. It was much simpler than a fated encounter, than an important occurrence to have to manage. Despite the simplicity of it, he was still determined to make it worth her while. "Come, my lady, please take a seat. I'd indulge you in our meeting. If there are any inquiries you have been meaning to ask, I would listen and respond."

A bizarre discomfort rests itself within the prince's chest, an uncertainty toward the brewing conversation blossoming deep within his stomach to offer tightening of muscles. Was he more connected to Bahamut than he had originally believed? Was there more reasoning to choosing him as his dominant than simple chance? Now Dion wasn't so sure about his positioning or person.

"What are you suggesting?" Dion's uncertainty continued; "That I may gaze into Bahamut as he does me, but I risk losing myself if I do?" Always had he known that the eikon within was a powerful force not to be reckoned with or taken for granted - but he'd never thought the possibility of being able to communicate through feelings, or potentially lose ones self entirely if not careful.

The prince listens and so does the Fallen once he speaks. A slow nod comes. There it is, the understanding of the prince. He knew, of course a part of him had to know that the Eikon residing in him was not just a quiet follower, but one awaiting to take the handle, if it ever could. Moss keeps his head low, eyes looking away as if the other could see them.

"Yes, my lord, I suggest exactly that. Yet, I also trust that you have the strength to withstand it. If you could not, you would not be here, with your will intact." A pause yet again as his questions are brought to attention. If there was something he had constantly been guilty of it had to be his boundless curiosity... And the way he could barely keep such curiosity in check.

"Oh, indeed, my lord. I am a very curious individual in nature... This has helped me find vast knowledge about many different topics. I would be delighted to share my findings. Yet, I think yourself more suited to let me know about your Eikon, instead. Maybe, we both could partake on the sharing. Would that be acceptable to you, my lord?"

“Match your breathing with mine. You can do it.” – @infulaen​ Random Injury Caretaking Starters

Odd were the moments in which the guardian became the one needing to be guarded. Yet necessary, of great import. Never did he think he'd witness it, never had he stopped to think that maybe being a protector for so long came with its damages. They were not so different, the great Lord of the Seas held a raging spirit that could threaten to destroy -- for right or wrong. But Moss knew of the heart struggling in the middle of the storm. He needed only to be reminded -- that much Moss could do.

The hand plants over his chest and he takes deep breaths, relaxed, despite his own beating heart racing with concern. It would be alright if only he kept his breathing steady. That rise and fall would lead him back home, back to the balance his spirit possessed. Back to gentle rocking of waves. Back, slowly and surely back to himself.

"Slow and steady, my Lord... Find that flow, your flow. There is naught else but that. Does it remind you of your waters? Does it remind you of the peace you bring, the one you've brought to countless ones,... to me?"

“I’m so tired.” – @infulaen​ Random Injury Caretaking Starters

       Those words were rarely a good sign.  The scholar was fading fast.  Whether the Fallen approved of magic or not, Yin’s hands rose, fingers interlocked, glowing wisps of silvery teal drifting from palm to chest as he sent the healing energy of his spirit into the body of his companion.  The historian must stay awake as sleep may lead to death.  “Weave me a tale, Child of Sky,” he spoke with an ethereal tenderness.  “Tell me of history lost to time.”

Ever ones of struggling curiosity and looming pride did the Fallen desire to mix whatever power at their disposal for their own advantages. Moss was not proud of it, despite being an active part of it. Yet, magic did take a toll and so did technology -- though his people did not live long to witness it.

Living for so long by himself, desperate for redemption, he had taken a wrong turn or two -- and the energy that seemed so steady started to fade away. It was only the healing boon falling as a cascade to his chest what was keeping his eyelids from succumbing to the slumber where his brethren had parted to long ago. Though exhausted does he keep squinted eyes on his ethereal companion's, exposed. Usually hidden, they struggle to keep contact, even the dim light causing harm. But he can stare, if it is only to look at the man before him, he can resist -- or so he solemnly believes.

"A tale..." it brings him joy to even think of forming tales to the ancient guardian, one that always seemed so earnest, so eager to listen. "I believe even that may be too much for me, as of now." And yet, a deep breath comes. "Would you mind... a tale of sea and sky?"

you don’t grieve. you rage. 

i feel an ancient anger welling up in me. 

i keep waiting for my anger to go dormant, but it won’t. 

they tell me:  'you should be kinder. you are somehow furious.‘  i used to be kind… it didn’t last long. 

anger has its place. anger has fire, and fire moves things.  

what are we made of but hunger and rage?  

what suffering is behind your anger? 

tell me how you stand the murderous fury. 

love implies anger. one who is angered by nothing cares about nothing. 

after fury, what do you do with the remains? 

you inherited [name]’s rage.

i’ve tried to be forgiving.

this… this is not rage. this is despair.

i will be wild. i will be brutal. i will be inevitable.

anger is like fire. it burns it all clean.

i hold a grudge like it’s a hand.

"Ah..." He pauses, noticing the defensiveness held in his tone. Of course he'd be careful, the land was in disarray, no one could truly discern friend from foe. Not even the one with many names. Despite that does he choose to give a small smile back at the man. His only weapon, a book and quill he had been holding on one of his hands.

"I have been given a new name amongst your people, my lord. Yet, it is a name that carries ages, many moons of time." And though he first thinks to keep it to himself, instead, he chooses to be truthful and open, in a way. He extends a hand to him as a means to salute, yet he does not shorten the distance, giving the man the space he so requires. "You may call me Moss, my lord. And you, should I address you by your many titles or by your given name?"

Clive carefully accepted the offered drink, looking down into the cup and observing his reflection for a moment, before looking back to the stranger before him. As of yet, he did not drink, though he didn't relinquish the cup just yet. When the other finally introduced themselves, he wasn't quite sure if he should believe what they said. "Moss. As in, Moss the Chronicler?" There was a note of disbelief in his voice as if he wasn't quite believing in what he was being told. It would explain the strange appearance and the strange situation, but was it the truth? Clive wouldn't know.

Moss can only nod to the question, delivering a small bow back at the man. "The very same, my lord," even though surely he found it hard to imagine. He himself found Clive's presence itself hard to understand, all he knew was that he was the child of fate. Fate would always follow him, not the other way around.

Musing by himself deep in his thoughts does he nod again to the appreciation. The next question is one he should have expected but was still a little shocked to hear. Why, he asked, despite being someone of such import... Could it be that he did not know, then? A slight clearing of his throat and Moss is intertwining his fingers, lowering his head in thought, his eye mask keeping the glint of interest concealed.

"Why... Oftentimes the hardest question to answer..." Because he knew this man was special, but he could've just as easily let him pick himself back up alone. Surely, someone more suitable would've come to his aid, something better, a higher power... And yet, he was compelled to save him, and save him he did. "Though your essence did play a part in it, I found myself instead... curious as to who you are as a person. On that field, all alone, I saw only an individual in dire need..."

He pauses, a smile forming as his head turns to Clive. "Not a force of nature destined for greater heights, but a person I could lend a hand to, someone I could speak to, even... Someone... that is more than what has been prophesized. Does that make any sense to you, my lord?"