record keeper

Final Fantasy Meme: 

   The worst part about lying? The real reason the Keeper hated such an act? He wasn’t any good at it. Little white lies (I’m fine! It’s okay.), small excuses as to why he knew both so much and so little--those were easy. He could put on a false smile and cheer for others with such noble ease. But the bigger lies? The ones that mattered? He couldn’t find the words. His mind was trained for academic success, for the truths of words on pages. Trained to one day take pupils under his own wing and mentor them as he’d been mentored.

   He envied Zelos. 

   The ability to lie and deceive so thoroughly and well. A charm and a smile and some flimsy excuse and he was gone with no one to suspect much at all. Even when the facade slipped so few of them caught on (was it shared demons in the past? could they truly not see through the cracks of the mask they’d been shown?). How could he, too, figure out how to manipulate people to the degree he needed?

       “ --That’s not what I meant. “ 

   Though Zelos was sickening. Being around the Chosen brought naught but unease to the Keeper. An unsettling feeling in his stomach akin to what his own lies and deception brought. But not because the redhead was a liar, a traitor--those were in his character description. To play his part, no matter what it was, was all the Keeper could ask for. Want. He’d not fault nor judge anyone on how they acted or were, so long as they faithfully played their part.

   But Zelos didn’t want to play his part. Not the way that would ensure the continuity of this record. And that’s what was sickening. Reviling. Disgusting.

   The Keeper’s earlier words of disgust, however, were about himself. Lying, deceiving, all the things he did--he disgusted himself almost as much as those characters that refused to play their parts did.

   Easier--? He certainly wanted it easier. A guide to this sort of thing. Someone that could walk him through the harder parts. Someone--

   A hand ‘pon his hat, and the frustration and tenseness of the youth eases just a bit. It’s always been a comforting action before, whenever someone pat his head or tapped his hat--but there’s something else distracting him. A stray thought, perhaps, as dim blue gaze flit to the side, to the wrist he held and the dagger as stray threat. That wasn’t the type of easier he wanted. Rather--that sort of ‘easy’ would cause only problems. An unfinished job. A record that’s been ruined. A life and purpose that he still yet wanted to experience, to see unfold. So many friends to meet and reunite with and records yet to experience (as awful as it could be)--

   His grip ‘pon the other had faded, fingers sliding down fabric, the Keeper taking a half-step back. There was no reason to be so close. Still his eyes lingered down--he’d still need to keep a hand there, ‘pon that wrist, that dagger. There was only one place this conversation absolutely could not go--yet so soft and light the new hold it, there might as well not have been one. But were that dagger to move--

   There’s not much of an expression on the Keeper’s face when he finally looks back up. Empty--he can think of no way to ply himself, his emotions to his benefit any longer. The same expression he wore when puzzling out a new magic, of learning of something completely foreign--blank. Eyes unblinking, unwavering, watching with no hint of a person behind them even as they lingered ‘pon lips upturned. Pain--

       “ It wouldn’t be easier. Not for both of us. Only one           of us gets to win, Zelos. To have our way. There’s           a lot riding on this. Worlds. I can’t let you win. The           darkness, win. “

   A twitch at the corner of his mouth, before mirroring the Chosen’s expression. The grip ‘pon wrist is shifted, tightened. 

My Opinion on;

Character in general: honestly, i was really surprised to see someone take tyro from this little phone game & make a blog out of it, but it’s really an incredible idea. it really an interesting platform in which to interact with all of the final fantasy realms, even those beyond the fandom (such as us tales people, etc). you’ve chosen a really great ‘face claim’ of sorts and it absolutely jives with the character from my point of view. it’s a foundation full of potential. How they play them: that being said – he can really be what you make of him. the fact that you breath such life into his two-dimensional character we play in the game is really commendable. i’ve really enjoyed seeing everything thus far. you’ve taken a model and you’ve amped up his personality & capabilities. i’ll admit, i never use tyro in ffrk (i had no real connection to him) – but now, your interpretation is making me fond of him in this different light.The Writer: what a patient & kind individual with so much talent in various forms. i know you’ve been having something of a rough time lately, but there are those of us who give you absolutely support. take your time, take it easy & do the things that make you happy, okay? you’re really wonderful & i’m happy to have come across you here.

Do I:

Follow them: yes! Rp with them: not at the moment, but there was a starter call i posted – Want to RP with them: absolutely.Ship their character with mine: tyro + sorey + adventure. 

What is my;

HIS MOVEMENTS ARE STILL too sluggish for his liking. Even healed he can feel the tenuous stretch of newly healed skin that he’s apprehensive of pushing his limits. A cure spell can mend flesh, but it can’t compensate for blood loss or exhaustion and he’s starting to run on reserves. Normally a single couerl wouldn’t have given him this much trouble, but it was his own fault for letting his guard down, for letting himself be ambushed at the worst possible moment and now he’s reaping the consequences. 

Maybe he could have taken on the animal with a lot of struggle, but he doubts he would have been able to walk away from the battle without suffering PERMANENT injuries either. It’s always a scary thought for someone who’s very career depended on his body to remain in peak physical condition, meaning he owed the kid his life. He doesn’t like that thought either, but it’s not something he had the luxury of focusing on when he’s stalking after the couerl, taking on the offensive to force it away.

And then he feels it. Around him the very air comes to life with energy. Even if he’s never been very sensitive with magic he can sense it in his very bones. A prelude to a powerful spell and it’s the only warning he gets, his gaze darts back to the kid and he makes the split second decision to run, diving away just as the air heats up to blistering levels. Landing hard on his shoulder, he barely has the time to cover his eyes from the conflagration that lights up sky. The spell only lasts for a handful of moments before it dies away, dissipating into the ether. 

He waits for several seconds to catch his breath, one hand still gripping the hilt of his weapon, but after a display of POWER like that, he doubts that anything could have survived. His gaze lands on the charred remains of the couerl to confirm the kill ( that might have been a bit much… ) and slowly, refusing to let himself groan, he struggles to his feet and turns his attention to the kid. 

   He’s still blinking away the blinding spots to his vision, turning his head only in the other’s general direction. Record synergy was a tricky thing to work against--one’s power was often diminished in their non-native records, but every so often the barrier could be broken, overcome (a critical hit--!); though he’d not anticipated such force from his own spell (even if it was quite the potent one on its own). 

   Stumbling feet accompany a shifting of balance and a shaking of his head in means to regain his bearings. With tome shut a hand rose to wipe at the corners of his eyes, to physically try to clear his vision faster--with some minor success. The scent of burnt fur and flesh is caught (nauseating--) as he catches sight of what his spell has wrought; before quickly shifting eyes. The worst part of fighting was the aftermath--

       “ Mm. I’m fine. I don’t think I could pull off           another one of those for a while though--! “     Not ‘til he’d had time to revisit the Archives and rest in his realm. To bask in his own synergy for a time. His gait’s a tad off--but though the Keeper’s balance shifted to and fro whilst making his way over, he never faltered nor tripped ‘pon approaching stranger. He’s quite used to being disoriented--

   Positioning himself by the taller fighter, he beams upward, a smile ‘pon face exuding only friendliness. His wavering’s mostly ceased by then--he bounces back quickly. Hands fumble at the tome clutches ‘gainst chest as the hefty weight slides, keeping youth from presenting himself for a friendly handshake now that things had settled. He’d settle it once again in his robes in just a bit--

        The remnant presence had begun to fade away as they put more distance between them and the horde, but strangely enough the atmosphere remained hostile. Perhaps a few persistent stranglers were nipping at their heels.

        ❝ It’d be a lot easier if they were normal. Those things are Heartless, meaning more will find us if we stay in this area. ❞

       An abrupt heavy thud progenited a telltale poof. A quick glance back and the fading wisps of what once was a Soldier revealed the source of the oddity. As much as she tried her bafflement refused to be concealed in any manner, leaving her stuck with a wide eyed stare. Simply smacking them with weighty tomes did the job now?

        In the back of her mind she knew it wasn’t that simple. Information about the Heartless that Master Yen Sid saw fit to drill into her between sessions proved otherwise. While she may have not been enthusiastic about, reading text almost as thick as what the boy hefted about did enable her to remember that if Heartless were swatted in one place without a Keyblade, they’d only pop back up in another and eventually converge on the Keybearer’s location once more. The perks of wielding a literal homing beacon for them to track. But his action was still something noteworthy. It wouldn’t have worked at all if he didn’t have something to source his power from, whether it be physical, mental, or magical.

   Heroes also tended to draw threat to them--so this stranger was one of the saviors of this record then? Chasing after her seemed doubly important with such a revelation (as far strung as it was). It’d mean facing more of these things--but numbers meant strength. The grip ‘pon his tome eased as the foe dissipated and the threat diminished (for now), azure gaze then sweeping back to his savior. Was that--confusion? Not an unprecedented reaction for the youth to receive. Most considered books as ill suited as weapons of warfare as youths in librarian’s clothing were regarded. (Granted, he’d not consider a key much of a weapon before then either)

       “ So what’s the big difference between            Heartless and normal monsters? “     Besides how saturated in the darkness the were, being of it rather than merely fed by it. The synergy in this realm felt as off as anything else, further throwing the Keeper off while trying to figure out just where he was--the world had gone topsy-turvy. If he were to fight these Heartless though--he needed answers. 

       “ I’m Tyro. I’d say ‘nice to meet’cha’ but--           I’m kinda still reelin’. I don’t even know           what world this is-- “

      Are you roleplaying a canon muse in the Square Enix community?