#liightwarrior

Meteor didn't understand. Hadn't they been friends before? Why was Hermes against him? Without a second thought, the man attacked, causing the Hyur to defend. But he didn't want to fight him, not one bit. He knew of his suffering, the misunderstandings, the longing to be understood.

"Hermes, wait! Don't you remember me? Don't you know me?" Maybe he had messed with the timeline, maybe it was all just a dream. Yet, this battle was real and it pained him. He stood, his shield at the ready, his sword wavering. There was no need to fight, he did not wish to... That was all.

𝗛𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱.... Roi had been raised in Ala Mhigo, a small village that barely saw rain. Even if it grew cold at night, it paled in comparison to honest to gods snow and ice. It took ages for him to learn to stomach the cold in Ishgard and even then, he never got used to it. Garlemald was a whole different beast. 

 Despite dressing far warmer than he ever had before, it still was maddeningly cold. Roi and the rest of the contingent were prepared to move on the tower. To slay Zenos and Fandaniel and put and end to the madness. But it all went terribly wrong. 

 First, it was a surprise attack from tempered imperials. And then it was a blizzard. If he believed in the gods, he would honestly think they wanted them to fail. In the chaos, he had gotten separated from the others. Fear was a powerful motivator. But it was also something that could easily cloud judgement. He panicked. The sound of the raging wind drowned out the sound of battle. 

Would the other’s be okay without him? What if Zenos or Fandaniel attacked them? His mind swirled with awful possibilities. But in the extreme cold, even his fears started to dull. It got harder to keep his thoughts together. Over the storm, he didn’t hear the magitek reaper until it fired at him. A strike that likely would have killed someone with less power. Roi managed to use his darkness to shield himself somewhat, but it sent him flying back. In the rubble of the city, it was no shock that he hit something. His head made contact with something hard and pain flash through his skull for only a moment before the world around him switched to black. 

 The next time he opened his eyes, there was a stabbing pain in his head. But he felt warm. He didn’t remember anything from after he was attacked on his own. He was dimly aware that he was no longer in the elements. It wasn’t until he forced himself to sit up that the true dread began to fill him. 

 He was back in the tower Zenos had stolen his body in. The memory alone made him feel ill. He pulled the glove off of his right hand, and stared at his burned hand. The scarred hand still looked the same as it had since he first arrived in Ishgard. At least... it was still his body. 

 He forced himself to his feet, eyes scanning the room for his captor. Despite the fear, he scowls at his surroundings. He had to hide his fear. 

❝ Zenos...? ❞ His voice was strained thanks to the ordeal before. 

𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖...

Ysayle isn't certain what she was expecting when she arrived at the Resistance's hideout. As someone who for many years lead a faction that could be categorized as a resistance herself she knew better than to set high expectations or glorify them, but she certainly hadn't predicted that she would find herself come shortly after such a vicious attack.

Apparently her arrival hadn't been expected either--that had been more than a little awkward, for Ysayle would have expected that the Alliance leaders would have let her former companions know that she had survived her ordeal. It had been enough to keep her in a deep slumber for the past moons since the fall of Thordan, but Vidofnir had been the one to find her, then spirit her to Aymeric where his chirurgeons had taken care of her.

Now it seemed she would need to offer the same aid to others. Ysayle had always regretted that she had never had the opportunity to train in any magical healing arts, but she would have been a fool to never learn basic first aid. So for her first hours she fell under Krile's leadership and the mage instructed her where to go, what supplies to bring, where to deliver what. Busy work which she did not mind in the slightest--whatever aid she was able to, Ysayle was glad to give it.

As bad as it seems Ysayle can't help but think that there are still many left standing and that the entire base hasn't been razed to the ground means they must have successfully fended off their attackers. It's only when she hears that Kitt was severely injured and lost a battle that she truly begins to wonder just what exactly happened here.

Yet there are no times for questions, and she now has medicines and a change of bandages and she makes her way to where he is recovering.

They do not have separate rooms. Only sheets and mats separate patient from patient and so she pauses, on the other side of the makeshift 'door.' Given how dramatically Alphinaud had reacted at the sight of her she doesn't think it best to just waltz in there. So in a quiet almost timid voice she calls out to him first.

He was told to play nice. He was told not to agitate or antagonise.

But upon seeing the Miqo'te, something in the back of his mind ignited. A jealous creature that had climbed up from the lowest dirt. Why does this creature get any special treatment.

His lungs burned, and he was still shocked he was breathing, let alone sprinting as hard as he was.

Maybe it was the desperation, maybe it was the grief, or the guilt. Rune couldn’t quite pinpoint it yet.

But the one thing he did know, was that his sister was dead. The Scions were dead, nearly everyone he knew was dead except for one person.

The Crystal Tower loomed overhead as Rune ran, skin and clothes dirtied with soot and hair a near mess upon his head.

He only stopped when he reached the massive doors that marked the entrance. Rune stared at them for a few moments to simply catch his breath, chest heaving with desperate breaths.

Suddenly, his fist slammed against the door, making a dull, low sound echo around him.

“Open the damn door, G’raha! I know you’re still in there!” Rune snapped, banging his other fist against the door as well.

This continued for a few moments of just Rune banging and yelling at thin air, before his adrenaline dropped and his head throbbed painfully.

   ❝ What do we have here? ❞

A sly smile peeked on his face as he appeared behind the red-haired catman, looking around the place. They were in front of the Crystal Tower. Ah, yes. It brought back memories of the past. Memories of a timeline he missed. Where he was recognizable, unique, unstoppable.

But that was not what was important now.

Everything had felt like a dream at that point, a horrible dream where the Final Days were running amok once more and everyone was in despair and dying. It was horrible, not only having to see her once adopted sister go against them, trying to bring everything back into oblivion, but that the soul who started it was Hermes. Or, rather, the individual who inherited it. He was defeated, but not without giving Kore a heavy heart and a heavier burden throughout the entire journey. 

Yet as she woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, these dreams felt more real then the flesh she currently inhabited. Her head hurt lightly, body slightly aching and... wait, why was she wearing these questionable clothes...? 

Furrowing her brow she lifted herself off the bed, deciding that the best course of action was to figure out where she was and then where her equipment had gone. 

“Um... hello...?” she called out. 

This was a new lease of life for him. But now. He was noticed. He had his Lord's attention. Asahi no longer had to grovel, not that he wouldn't grovel. He adored Zenos, every part.

However being given a second chance after being killed by Yotsuyu. He was now fragmented. Part of his soul was still in the aetherial sea, his original body was elsewhere. He was a shell with one need.