watcher of darkness.

“More than suitable, I should think.” Minfilia says, encouraging. She opens the door for him, motioning him inside. “That’s quite a long time to be here. I arrived, oh, a few weeks ago I believe. As I said, I have yet to speak to many, not in person at least. I would be glad for the help of someone more experienced.”

Once inside, she scans the large and colorful menu above the counter. Strawberries again, who had ever heard of such a thing? She turns to Knoll, about to ask what he would like, when she remembers something important. "Ah, in my carelessness I forgot to ask for your name. I am Minfilia, of Eorzea, though I assume you have never heard of such a place.”

Knoll slips through the door hurriedly when the woman opens it for him, not wanting to leave her waiting. Once they’re both inside, he gives her a faint smile, trying to piece together how he’s expected to act. He’s never been the best at social graces, especially when they’re suddenly thrust upon him-- but he feels he owes her this at least, as an apology for practically running her down.

He glances up at the menu, the array of various options dizzying him. What-- what is a kiwi? Is that a food item? It must be, if it’s on the menu. 

So distracted is he by the menu items that he almost misses when the woman speaks to him. “Uh,” he says, dumbly, running what he heard over and over in his head until it resolves itself into words. “Oh! I am Knoll, from-- from Magvel. Um. Minfilia?” he repeats, trying to mimic her delicate pronunciation. 

Then something else from what she’s said catches his attention. “Eor-- Eorzea?” he asks. “I actually-- if it’s the same place, I’ve met someone from there, here. Her name is Hilda. She’s from Ish... Ishgard.” Only then does it occur to him that Hilda might not want strangers being told about her, and he feels a stab of panic. He tries to swallow it down, unable to do anything about it now. He’ll just have to apologise to Hilda next time they meet. Or he could even shoot her a message on the holophone.

Wen Ning tilts his head to the side as he listens, taking in the options. Still, at the admission that Knoll doesn’t like the elevator much, he knows which option he’ll pick. His limbs aren’t so locked, so frozen, that he’s no better than the most basic of fierce corpses, unable to do anything other than hopping, stiff legged. It’s not the easiest option, but Wen Ning had never considered what was easiest for him in such things.

His companion’s comfort is what matters most, the same as it has been his whole life. He shakes his head after the silence settles and it becomes clear that he’s meant to give an answer - that he is in fact, expected to give an opinion instead of going along with whatever anyone else wants to - and struggles to find his voice.

“I - the stairs are f-fine. I can manage them. Eight floors isn’t too much for me.” He hopes his nod is reassuring - he is a bit touched that the other thought of him, in this way, although it’s not anything he’d consider himself. The fact that he’s wet and dripping doesn’t occur to him, truly, as a reason why stairs might be non-ideal, or that it might be inconvenient for any number of reasons - he honestly seems to forget that humans need warmth, after so long without it and so long not needing it beyond simple comfort.

He thinks of the blood on the lower lip - he wonders what caused it, why. He doesn’t dare ask, though - simply follows Knoll to the stairs and follows him, a few steps behind, an obedient servant even to one he’s known only a few minutes.

Knoll returns Wen Qionglin’s nod, giving him a wobbly smile-- one that spits the fresh scab on his lip and sets it to bleeding again. Ah, hells damn it. He swipes away the new blood on his lip, nods in a way he hopes is reassuring, then points towards the stairs.

“They’re hidden,” he says. “Through that door.”

He sets off toward it, looking back once or twice to make sure his guest is following behind him. Through the door they go, up the stairs, Knoll trying to set a pace that is neither too fast or too slow. Up and up and up they go, Knoll eschewing the railing in favour of moving just a little faster.

Too fast, it seems. He goes to take an ambitious step, slips on the wetness of his own self, and falls backwards, foot shooting out from underneath him with a wet squeak. He lets out a strangled, panicked cry-- 

--One that is abruptly cut off as he lands against Wen Qionglin. Knoll’s heart lurches in relief that he’s no longer falling, then panic that he will cause Wen Qionglin to fall, then incredulous relief as the other man doesn’t, just wobbles a little bit, reaching his arms around Knoll in a seemingly instinctual motion.

Then the reality of the situation crashes into Knoll, and he freezes, a shiver only half to do with cold running down his spine. He just fell-- onto his guest-- who now has Knoll in his arms--

(It’s almost comfortable, being held like this, despite the chill and the damp.)

Something, no, someone kicked him. Senri matches the yelp of surprise his assailant makes. Venus? No, the person looking at him from above is not Venus. Then why was he here? No, first off why did he kick Senri? No, back to the bothering Senri when he was… Nothing. Everything is fine. 

Senri pointedly glares up at this stranger, “Well, I don’t accept your apology,” It hadn’t hurt, it just startled him, but he was in a bad mood and someone had to deal with that.

“I’m fine! I’m perfect actually,” Senri hopes this guy didn’t notice his voice crack, “And I wasn’t crying, so if you were thinking that you’re wrong, because I wasn’t.” 

Knoll blinks. “Oh, that’s-- that’s alright,” he says, when the boy rejects his apology. It really is all right with him; he’s used to it. He shuffles to the side a tiny bit to try to escape from the boy’s glare. 

“I’m, um, glad to hear you’re all right,” Knoll says, unsure what he’s supposed to do now. Especially with this talk of crying-- the boy had said he hadn’t been crying, but Knoll hadn’t even brought that up, and while Knoll was a poor master of social cues at best he hadn’t missed the quaver in the boy’s voice, or the redness around his eyes. Knoll shifts his weight from foot to foot in agitation. Was this his fault? For kicking him?  What should he do? Knoll doesn’t know how to handle other people crying. He barely knows how to handle his own self crying.

good

They are pressed shoulder-to-shoulder for warmth, huddled together against a castle parapet, necks craned back to look at the sky. Lyon holds an astrolabe; Knoll pen and paper. Lyon twists the astrolabe and murmurs things; Knoll writes them down.

When Knoll shivers a little, involuntarily, Lyon wraps his cloak around Knoll’s body with a twitch of his hand, and Knoll’s heartbeat skips so violently Lyon has to call his name three times before he can hear again.

bad

Rausten’s nights are far colder than Grado’s ever were; even in the warmer months the ground cakes itself in frost. The stars above wheel and turn like shards of ice, balls of cold fire, indifferent observers. The battle is over now. They won. They won. And yet, as the demon king’s body crumbled to ash, and Knoll watched a human body tumble soundlessly to the ground, he knows the truth is he has lost everything.

“Oh, of course not. This was simply the first cafe I found. More importantly, is that truly the first question you should ask after a strange man dragged you across town?” The Contrarian closes his menu to give Knoll his best approximation of an expression one may call “parental disapproval.” 

“Not a single word of protest? I just interrupted your entire day for my own whims, and you just accept it.” He phrases it like a question, curious about Knoll’s behavior. 

Knoll opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, anger and agitation warring with an ingrained aversion of conflict of any kind. (Conflict is danger. Displeasure is a sign of worse to come. Brace yourself--)

“It’s not like,” Knoll says carefully, “there is much else to do here.” This much is true. He takes a breath, uncertain of what he is allowed to say next. There is more he has to say-- much more-- but he cannot be certain what will or won’t set the other man off.

✿ - DECAY - an old memory, from childhood perhaps

knoll’s uncle kept ships-in-a-bottle in his library. knoll broke one once and was fiercely scolded.

his earliest memory is of sitting in his mother’s lap, her hair falling in his face, playing some sort of game he can no longer recall the details of. it is the only memory he still has of his parents.

⚔ - DUEL - a meeting or relationship that was important to them

meeting lyon and befriending him was the pivoting point in knoll’s life. all the good and all the bad stems from that first meeting.

ϟ - LIGHTNING - something they thought they’d left in the past, returned

∇ - TOMBSTONE - who they are versus who they appear to be

knoll is pretty much exactly what he appears to be: quiet, shy, withdrawn. he’s not good at lying or pretending, so his true feelings are always close to the surface.

☼ - DAYSTAR - a secret they don’t want coming to light

6. Does your character have recurring themes in their dreams?

a sense of longing. 

19. What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

he is too yielding. most people have just taken advantage of this, but it did end one relationship he had-- ironically enough. he did agree to give lyon the stone, and this, of course, was lyon’s undoing.

33. In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

self-depreciating. it’s what he’s been taught. “i’ll try better next time” was always met with “no you won’t”, so he generally believes himself incapable of improvement until after it happens.

42. Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

4. Has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

the shattering of grado’s sacred stone was the tipping point of everything. knoll’s recounted the story countless times by now, but he and lyon were the only ones there, and lyon isn’t around to tell the story any more.

7. Does your character have recurring themes in their nightmares?

lyon, and the thing pretending to be him. plus common ptsd war stuff. 

11. In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

the thing possessing lyon’s body once tried to kill him. wrapped lyon’s hands around his throat and squeezed. isn’t this what you wanted? it asked. haven’t you been yearning for death for a very long time? are you backing out now that it’s finally within your grasp?

23. What does your character dislike in other people?

pride (something he lacks) and cowardice (something he has too much of). he tries his best not to dislike others. that’s unkind of him. bad manners.

44. How easy or difficult is it for your character to say “I love you?” Can they say it without meaning it?

8. Has your character ever fired a gun? If so, what was their first target?

no guns in magvel! dark magic is ranged though so it’s close enough, right? knoll’s first targets would have been training dummies. his first *living* targets... mmm. either monsters or gradoan soldiers.

18. Is your character more likely to admire wisdom, or ambition in others?

wisdom. ambition kind of scares him now, given that most of the people with strong ambitions he’s had firsthand experience with are kind of freaks

28. How quick or slow is your character to resort to physical violence in a confrontation?

very very slow. he’ll only lash out physically if he feels he has no other recourse/his life is in danger. his usual method of dealing with confrontation is to figuratively show his belly-- agree with the other person and cower until they get bored and give up on him.

38. Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat?