#rosh1d

But just because Clive would listen didn't mean that Joshua was going to force him to. Their mother had done unspeakably cruel things to his brother, and Joshua doubted that he had anything feelings left toward her that were more than just contempt, or perhaps even pity.

In some ways it had been a kindness that she had died as she had. Joshua didn't have to feel blame or resentment toward anyone, and there was no cause for a fight when he would be the only one vouching for her to keep her life.

There had been no hope of recovering her body from the collapse of the Crystalline Dominion. It meant there was nothing to bury, nothing to burn, no where to go when he wanted to feel like maybe he could be close to her again. Joshua had made a small rock cairn in a small area hidden by brush on the outskirts of Eastpool. No doubt the people there would loathe to know he did, but there had been a time when the Rosarian's were her people.

The sound of something walking up quietly behind him had Joshua sighed as he started to stand. "Despite what I am sure you have been told, I am capable of traveling on my... own..." The response, one that was a bit too biting for its intended target, tapered off when Joshua turned to see Clive, not Jote.

"Your brother was always talking about you. It's good to finally meet you in person. Officially, at least." Locke has watched over Clive a few times before for Joshua, but they never talked. Now that he's at the Hideaway, things are much different. "If you need my help for anything, please tell me. I want to remain useful, and I need to keep myself busy."

I think Clive wants to know what I've been up to in the past 18 years.

Joshua laughed a little, though there was a small part of him that felt a little-- flustered being so put on the spot from his brother's curiosity. Still, it was completely fair that he could want to know, and Joshua could imagine he already was trying to plan out how to much up for years lost with the information gleaned.

"Well, there's reading and writing, but neither of those really feel like a hobby." He scratched mindless at his cheek, trying to come up some better answers. Music - no, he had all-but stopped playing piano once the Undying had taken him in. Painting was another answer that didn't feel truthful; Joshua did enjoy it, but it was something he rarely was able to indulge in.

"I had tried making wood burnt art, but found quickly that I didn't quite have the patience for it." Just because he could summon flames didn't translate to having skill with etching out pictures with them.

"... fencing is something I picked up... after. Herbalism as well. It's fascinating what you can make with little more than common plants you can find almost anywhere." Or used to be able to find, before the Blight started wiping out the flora.

It didn't go unnoticed that his own real answers were utilitarian skills that he had been forced to pick up to survive, and that anything he had once liked that served no purpose aside from enjoyment had been cast aside. Joshua had a feeling that Clive's answers wouldn't be far removed from him own if he asked, though.

There was always a strangely eerie quiet that felt like it covered the Hideaway in the fleeting hours between nightfall and morning. So many people had a habit of staying of late to finish work, or gossip, or simply drink to try to ease their thoughts and worries, and then there were those that rose before the sun to start on their work for the day. It left a very small, very narrow sliver of time where everyone was asleep, and those left awake would find the air unsettling - near suffocating.

Joshua fell in the camp of those who woke early, though staying up late had started to become a bad habit of his. The more he was awake, the less he could dream, and the less he could dream, the less Ultima could try to reach out to him. The embittered fragment lodged deep into his chest didn't have the strength to pull itself free, but it was more than capable of whispering into his mind when he was tired and vulnerable.

And with that came the dreams. Though, nightmare would have been a better word for them.

The most recent one, that one that had Joshua clawing at the air as he jerked himself away in a frenzy, fire crackling along his skin as his body buzzed with the primal fear that begged for the Phoenix to come out, had involved himself being dragged into a strange torrent of blinding light and fire as Ultima forced itself to merge with Clive. Joshua couldn't drag himself free and could only watch as the two became one, and Clive vanished - Ultima remained.

The thing inside of his chest felt very proud of itself as Joshua splashed lukewarm water on his face before heading out of his room. It felt very certain that this was not a dream but a portent of the future, one that Joshua would not be able to stop.

Mythos will be reborn.

It was not the first night of sleep that had been cut painfully short for Joshua, and not the first night that he spent leaning against one of the wooden railings while watching the stars to avoid returning to bed, but it was the first night that he heard footsteps approaching from behind. He glanced back, body tense for a moment before recognizing Clive's silhouette.

It took far too long for the question to actually register. Joshua had heard his brother speak as he stared down at his plate, fork idly pushing the food there. There were no vegetables that he could see or identify, but the mush was hardly appetizing even without the threat of carrots.

It wasn't really the food's fault, or the cook's. The Hideaway made due with what it could, and it was fine, but even if this had been the finest meal presented by the best cook in Valisthea Joshua doubted he would have found much of an appetite to eat. It felt like it had all been erased, numbed and stomped down by the creature that now lived inside of his chest.

@rosh1d said: ❛ every day i fight, i fight for all of us. ❜ // any ff or persona muse your feeling rn!

&. 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

Jill isn't able to find the words to express herself. She had always been quiet, but years as a prisoner had taken its toll. She struggled to express herself. She struggled to leave her own head. Jill was still a prisoner to herself. Her sins. And despite how much she cared for and trusted Clive, the words still struggled to come out of her mouth.

She knows why he fights. It is similar to her own reasons. She knows why he bleeds. Jill knows Clive well. And she knows she can't talk him out of things. She wished he would just relax. Just rest for a small amount of time. She would walk at his side in whatever battle he fought... But he looks exhausted. His voice sounded tired. Subtle things that Jill noticed from watching Clive so often.

It was a strange feeling to be a child and to know so keenly that your parents despised one another. That they may put on airs, may do their best to act as if they did not - but deep down inside they both loathed the other in ways that Joshua could not understand. Maybe one day, maybe in that mythical time when he was older that adults always said would somehow make everything click into place. He doubted that somehow, because time would not change the reality of his situation.

He did his best to act like he understood, or at least like it did not bother him. The little Archduke, the one who would inherit the Duchy. Not Clive, of course - Clive wasn't good enough despite being older, stronger, better than him. Clive was a failure, and all because the flames of the Phoenix did not beat inside his chest.

As if to be further punishment, his brother was not even meant to spend time around him. At least, if their mother had her way - and what could Joshua do but go alone with it? Their mother, his mother loved him and wanted nothing but the best for him! That's all anyone ever seemed to want for him. The best. He was, after all, their savior. The Phoenix. The next Leader of the Duchy. The blazing hope for Rosaria.

Maybe there would be a point in time when he could also just be Joshua.

It had been late at night when he heard his door creak open. Joshua had been crying - the root catalyst long since forgotten, likely nothing more important than ripping his pants that caused so much to bubble up and out - and immediately tried to silence his tears, swallowed them make with a quiet sniffle lest either parent hear. It wasn't until he saw that it was neither his mother nor father but Clive did he relax, though he still tried to scrub away his tears.