#qun'mines

O crêpe I reblogged two. so i sHALL ANSWER BOTH.

Who would throw the other in the pool: Tbh I see Ines having a jolly good time hanging out with Qun’mi at the pool, completely unsuspecting when all of a sudden Qun’mi frickin’ throws this girl off her feet and launches her into the water.Who is the better carer when the other is sick: Ines is suuuuper attentive when it comes to Qun’mi so she pretty much always knows what to do in regards to her health.Who would force the other to do extreme sports with them: They’re not very into extreme sports, but Ines will sometimes drag Qun’mi to a haunted house or something of that nature...and then get scared.Who would cook the better romantic dinner: After a few disasters, they’d just go to a nice restaurant or order delivery/microwave something.Who would build the blanket fort in the living room: Ines. No doubt.Who would have the best holiday ideas: It’s a collaborative effort. Ines is more festive but Qun’mi comes up with as many ideas as she does.Who would need to clean out the other’s stuff to make room for their own: It’s just a giant mess. They’ve both got junk everywhere from their nerdy hobbies and it takes a lot of time, effort, and tears to make everything spick and span.

it’s shit lmao

“You always have an ear to the ground, from what I can see. You have reason.” “I’ll never forget you.”

A tapping against the glass, water dripped down from the window down to the ledge, gathering there in small puddles. A soothing sound, rhythmic and calming, that built up the lazy atmosphere in this early morning. The sun hid behind the gray, thick clouds, its warm rays not being able to pour fresh new energy in the life it was supposed to touch. Sleepiness lingered in all over city, people refused to go out at this weather, even the wildlife stayed hidden in dry places, and rather enjoyed these sleepy hours in the morning in their cozy homes. 

With her head pounding, throbbing in pain, Ines brings a hand to her face and wipes at her damp cheek. Her breath is shaky, and she wants to scream, but she has no idea why. “Am I having another episode?” she wonders aloud in her office. She dwells not long on the matter, and looks down at whatever she’d been in the middle of writing when the tears had begun to flow.

Qun'mi Tru'e. The name is written in black ink, over and over again, in Ines’ own handwriting. “Qun'mi...Tru'e?” Something stings, not physically, but an undeniably unpleasant feeling gnaws at her. “Qun'mi Tru'e...Qun'mi. Qun'mi. Qun'mi.” It rolls right off her tongue, as easy as her own name. She could swear she's never seen this name before, but the truth quickly becomes undeniable. She's forgotten something.

A knock on her door pulls a minimal amount of her attention from Qun'mi Tru'e. “Come in.” A soldier in uniform enters and salutes. “Report: Magitek development is proceeding as scheduled. Also, we've received a request for backup in one of the newly captured territories. The citizens are causing a minor disturbance. Before proceeding, we-” “Clearance granted.” Ines dismisses the soldier with those words, and he nods. “Yes, Captain.”

Captain. Ines sure as hell wasn't Captain the day before. She knows that much. The soldier closes the door behind him, and she reaches for a nearby filing cabinet. She can only guess the contents. Blueprints, reports probably. Maybe, by some miracle, a hint that would ease her aching need to know exactly who this “Qun'mi Tru'e” is...or was.

Ines scans over the tabs of files. Some of the names are scratched out. Some she simply doesn't recognize. Has she forgotten them too, or has she simply never met them? A couple of names are familiar: Bashtar. There’s no way she could forget the Brigadier General as long as he lives. Icelar. Arguably the most famous colonel in the Empire. Everyone knows him, or knows of him. He has a great relationship with his men. Ines ran into him a few times in the past. He gave off a better vibe than Qator ever did.

Another name rings a bell. Morse. It's written in messy handwriting, and the file contains a few old, smudged notes that she doesn't bother to go through. She skims through a few more files: Balmung, Brionac, Dáinsleif, Vajra. “L'Cie Qun'mi” appears multiple times, as well as a few blurry images of a masked figure operating and testing different Magitek Armors. Ines opens one last file: Ultima.

Poking out from the neat papers is a handwritten letter. With a sense of urgency, Ines grasps it and quickly but gently removes it. Her hands are trembling and she starts to choke up. She feels as if she's going to be sick but she forces herself to read anyway.

Dear Ines,

Part of me hopes you'll never find this, but another part of me knows you will. I don't have much time so I'll cut right to it. You used to work under me. Alongside me in some cases. Those times were fun. Or, as close to fun as you can get when you're a military scientist in times of war. You're smart, Ines. You're talented - maybe even more talented than me. That's why I chose you to succeed me as Captain. There's a lot of other things I want to say about you, but I don't want to screw with your emotions any more than I already am. Just forget me, okay? That's what's best, I promise. Forget me, and move forward.

Qun'mi

Ines swallows a lump in her throat. There are still so many unanswered questions. Her heart burns in her chest, the tears come again, and she does all she can not to wail out loud. She needs to move forward, she needs to leave behind the name “Qun'mi Tru'e.” She can't. Even with no memories her emotions swirl like a storm and she's being steadily torn apart. Then, a voice of salvation calls upon her.

I will forever be angry that we didn’t get context to that artwork of her.