#surpassinglimits

❝Tis not exactly a secret.❞

  A light frown tugs at his lips, thin brows furrowing. Ah, so it was like that; not so much fun as utter torment. He pushed himself up from the wall and took a step forward, arms dropping to his sides.

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@surpassing-limits:

Curious as to what the man hoped to get as a reaction out of the prince as he somewhat ranted at the blindfolded man, whom would only cock his head to the side slightly, not interrupting the speaker that he would recognize soon as he spoke. It were perhaps why Zenos even bothered to listen in this case, acknowledging them for the entirety of them.

❝Does it matter how I came to be this way?❞ he'd ask mildly after a few seconds of silence at the end, gauging that the man he claimed as friend were waiting for an answer. ❝We all make choices. Certainly, much of what I & the soldiers have done much at the behest of my father, yet many of them were loyal to the cause they thought they fought for, not so much because they were evil or heartless. Many more perhaps only fought to provide for their families. But yes, several more of them took advantage of the conquered & asserted behavior that is, quite frankly, deplorable.❞

❝Given what I have known of others from listening to their idle quips & gossip, my childhood is nothing like theirs. But I hardly think it matters, ultimately. I doubt you wish to be bothered with dissecting my past to learn whether I am what I am because of poor raising, or even conditioning. I had been seemingly incapable of feeling attachment or feel emotions as one should, even as a child.❞

His lips would curve slightly, though it were not really in any amusement in this case. ❝Tis why I latched onto you, I suppose. Battling you had made this dull gray world a little more colorful to the likes of me.❞

Zenos being the unmoving and obdurate stone that Vali’s hate and spite crashed against like a wave- it gave rise to something dark and unsettling that left a distinct, acrid taste at the back of his throat. He refused to give it a name, bilious as it was, making his lower gut churn from the sting of it all.

He was surprised that the Garlean condemned the brutality that had haunted the Resistance’s ever dwindling ranks, having expected him to have the same arrogant attitudes and prejudice he had heard about from the common folk living under imperial occupation. Being treated as an annoyance and a drain on Ul’dah’s resources was one thing, another to be viewed as completely subhuman or not better than the intelligence of a small animal.

Perhaps that much was true- Did it really matter, in the end? For a moment, the thaumaturge wasn’t sure what exactly he’d come here to do, this wasn’t turning out the way he had expected it to. Venting out his anger and resentment had been a stopgap, it alleviated the itch somewhat but did little to cure the festering wound on his psyche that was demanding and commanding his attention away from near everything else.

“Such detachment sounds like a blessing to me,” he replied, his voice sharp- Like a poised rapier, attempting to jab at weak points so he could dig in deeply with the next aggressive attack. It was completely abhorrent to him- The death toll, his own mutilation, the suffering endured and the fear steeped in dark stains to their souls… All for the sake of some perverse attempt at gaining amusement?

“Would but I had the luxury of such a thing…” 

His eyes went distant, not seeing the present, but a scene seared into his mind from the past. The way that the Crania Lupi had stormed in with such brutality, cutting down his countrymen. How he had hesitated mid-incantation at the sight of her utterly crushing Meffrid in combat, the curved blade of her scimitar gleaming ominously in the moonlight and surrounding fire. Feeling detached from his own body, the sounds of the chaos around them muffled as if by water. His limbs refusing to budge, the concentration needed to pull from his own wellspring of aether completely shattered. 

In that instant, he was in darkness again, the only light trickling in from the vertical sliver between the wardrobe’s double doors. Eyes wide as a bullfrog’s yet only seeing flashes of movement amidst the raised voices. A sudden scream and he’d blinked, wet warmth splattering through the crack onto the front of his face. A metallic scent, coppery and rich filling his nostrils. The polished shine of the convex edge on a backsword belonging to the notorious Brass Blades. In that moment, it was as though his world had shrunk to an alarmingly small space, occupied with nothing but a heart-stopping, oppressive presence of fear.

Vali hissed in a sharp inhale and pinched the bridge of his nose in a display of frustration.

“I don’t- I can’t understand you, or her. Any of it. But I have to,” he ground out, pulling the glove on his right hand away with his teeth. 

He paused. Was this crossing a line? A form of violation, in a way- Reading the Garlean’s aether without consent? Would he regret ever having brushed his own mind against something so innately sinister? 

Only one way to find out.