Tempestuous Rage;

tem·pest noun: tempest; plural noun: tempests a violent windy storm."a raging tempest";

Independent roleplay blog for Benedikta Harman from Final Fantasy XVI. Written by Vonny.

Sideblog to @fire-branded ; Follows will come from there.

The information pried from the wayward soul's lips had proven to be more effort than it was worth, in the end. While that fact irritated Benedikta to no end, considering time wasted on one meant missing out on other, more fruitful prey -- it irritated her infinitely more that Barnabas's time had been wasted as well.

In fact, having Barnabas present during such a lackluster interrogation was insulting for him and shameful for her. (This poor sobbing, pleading idiot would not have a quick, painless death because of this.)

While the Dominant of Odin gave his consent in his usual indifferent tone, the young woman remained in her kneeling stance until after he had passed her. Only once his retreating back concealed her ire did she raise her head, speaking out an unflinchingly obedient "Thank you, my liege" in gratitude of both his approval and his seeming lenience towards her lack of adequate results.

It seemed that as soon as Benedikta was standing, she had swept her way across the short distance to where the shackled prisoner wept. A vicious backhand across his face sent him sprawling over onto his side; then her heel slammed into his sternum.

"If that is the best you can offer us --" , The end was ground harder and harder against the flesh and bone, eliciting a new round of howls of pain. One of her gloved hands raised to call upon her innate gift: wind magic manifested as a viciously churning orb of white and pale green. "-- then you are more useful to us dead than alive."

Well, he wasn't wrong. She couldn't exactly just stand there glaring without a word; it would accomplish nothing, aside from making them both incredibly bored.

Out heaved a sigh, accompanied with a slump of her shoulders. Then a dismissive wave of her hand. "Calling me "dear", when for all you know I could be here to assassinate you?" Not that she was here to attack him... and her lax stance held no implication otherwise.

"Really, Cidolfus? A hug?" She scoffed. "What am I, a child?"

Then a pause. A very long, drawn-out pause. Benedikta's lips pursed, and she looked away like a sulking child as she muttered: "I simply wanted your company for a time."

There was something in the Phoenix's reply that angered her. It made her want to lash out, want to verbally grab the beautiful, elegant woman by the throat, to pluck her metaphorical "wings" off one feather at a time until naught remained but vulnerable flesh. Then she would sink Garuda's claws into the bloodied mess and rip it open to expose just how much like her the Eikon was on the inside.

She loathed her. She loathed her, and she practically seethed from it; but the truth was that the anger was borne of jealousy.

Looking upon the Phoenix laid bare the painful truth, that Benedikta herself was weak. For all of the power and respect that she had commanded... In the end, she had still ended up being that helpless little girl from summers ago, cowering and sobbing in fear and begging to be saved. Just like that little girl she had met and protected in Balmung Dark.

Benedikta's head snapped to one side. Her teeth gritted, face contorting with the ire she felt. Then, just as suddenly, the feral look was gone, leaving naught but a defiant glare.

"I am still here, am I not?"

Her lips pursed into a thin line, annoyance evident in every detail of her countenance. Then she rolled her eyes. The woman shifted back enough to settle on her haunches, and for a moment, seemed as though she would simply get up and leave him there.

But something kept Benedikta from doing so. Some irksome, nagging little feeling, tugging at her heartstrings -- heartstrings she forever wanted to cut but never quite could.

"Stop talking," she finally commanded. A flick of her gloved hand, finger curling as though beckoning him to turn over, promised him that the blood seeping to the ground from Clive's side had not gone unnoticed by her. "Unless you want me to leave you for dead."

A long pause. Followed by an eventual scowl. "Consider it a friendly favor for a certain lightning-aspected bastard. And for fuck's sake, do not get used to this."

Blah blah blah, Benedikta was imprisoned in Balmung Dark after her usefulness to Barnabas came to an end -- or rather, when her usefulness as being dead became more convenient for manipulating Hugo.

She has always been notoriously coldhearted and ruthless. She has never been shy about killing, torturing, destroying lives to prove a point. It hasn't quite been about gaining pleasure from these acts -- but about asserting the power she holds now, that had been deprived from her for so long in her youth. And she will do anything, no matter how unsavory, no matter how supposedly "shameful", in order to retain control and maintain the upper hand.

But she was once a scared, defenseless little girl, whose life barely held meaning -- and what little meaning it did have was decided by how she could benefit others.