[RP] Final Fantasy X: Felonies of the Past

[Gaige]

Tyrann sat in his hut's bed, his summoner's staff twirling in one hand, graceful, practiced movements of his fingers keeping the scepter moving constantly. After all, one wrong move would disrupt the summoning and leave him without anything to aid him. And what kind of summoner would he be then?

Part of him couldn't help but worry about Xenia. After all, he had saved her from the sea all that time ago, carried her from the beach to the village. And since Tyrann wasn't the tallest guy or Xenia the shortest woman...

"It wasn't fuckin' easy," he muttered to himself, eyes fixed on the whirling motions of his staff. Oh well, he couldn't think about her now. The First Summoning was to come soon, wasn't it? When he got to show his stuff in front of the entire village. Fun fun fun.

"Ugh." He fell back on his bed, wanting nothing more than to sleep. He tossed his staff to the floor, where it landed with a clatter, and yawned loudly and rudely, not even bothering to cover his mouth. Maybe there was time to nap before the First Summoning?

 

[Amizon]

"Hey, Xenia!"

Xenia turned around to hear the sound of the overly enthusiastic voice of Gatta. He was slightly smaller than her and whilst she found him to be childish, she had to admire his dedication to the Crusaders' cause. He stood there in awe of her, whilst Luzzu slowly approached her. Although she thought of herself as no heroine, Xenia was the model used for the Crusaders as a great example of what the young ones could become. She was used to Gatta's overcrowding her.

"You're such an inspiration to us all!" he exclaimed.

"It's nice to see you up and about, Xenia," said Luzzu.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Luzzu folded his arms against his chest. "Well, we noticed Trull carrying you into your hut. You were unconscious, maybe even sleeping. Is everything ok? Did the temple wear you out?"

"I'm absolutely fine," replied Xenia quickly. "That was just a minor blip. We all get worn out every now and again. I'd be more concerned about Tyrann. He was the one praying to the Fayth, not me."

She walked away, shaking her head.

I don't need anyone looking out for me, not Trull at the very least, Xenia thought to herself. She walked to the edge of the cliff next to the temple and crossed her arms, lost in her thoughts. Sometimes it's so hard to live up to what people expect of you. Gatta ... he wants to be like me. He wants to be a legendary guardian, but there's a shortage of summoners right now. So he chooses to be with my Crusader brothers and sisters. As for Luzzu ... I hope he knows what he's doing. This plan is too risky.

 

[Martel]

[OOC: I'll bring Trull back after another post of morbid, crappily-written (and hopefully longer, I feel like such a slacker ) introspection...unless someone wants to come and get him. xD]

Trull sat at the edge of the cliff, allowing his feet to dangle over the edge, staring off into the distant horizon. Purpose. Was that truly what he sought? Such a mundane thing, when one thought about it. Others might call it "destiny" or something else equally grandiose and pathetic. Words like that served but a single purpose: self-gratification. For choices made in error and haste, for actions that could not be justified, for the refusal to grasp the reins of your own life and take control. Excuses.

No, no matter what I believe, I am here through my own choosing. Thus. Have I erred? I am not you, brother, no matter how I may strive to follow in your footsteps. I chose to come here, to aid this new Summoner...yet for what reason? I cannot absolve your sins, nor can I make amends for my own shortcomings. This is futile...is it not?

The lashing of the waves upon the rocks below was Trull's only answer. The very metaphor of futility made real, below the precipice on which he sat. It would be such a simple thing, to slide over the edge, down into those churning waves below, to be dashed upon the rocks, bones snapping with awful finality, life ebbing away. He felt, at times, as though he were inches away from doing just that and here, now, he realised just how close he was. Yet, it did not trouble him. Rather, it gifted him with a certain clarity, as only moments like these could.

To think of futility...well, was there anything more futile than that? His tutor, Eniki Ronso, had once told him that his greatest weakness, his most alien trait as a warrior, was his tendency to focus upon the past, on what he had done, and how it would affect what he did next.

"It matters not." he would say, after handing Trull yet another punishing, bitter defeat, "In battle, you do not think. You exist in the present. What you did before, what you do next, these are not connected. You do what you have to. To plan is to invite defeat."

The sea was a wild, unpredictable force. It would do as it wished, and not even Yevon Himself could alter that. The rocks below would eventually break, and the cliffs would crumble away; this was the only certainty in life. All things eventually broke, shattered by forces beyond their comprehension. But when it would happen, that was something else entirely.

Some things in life were unknowable, and to think of them, whether it be to predict them, or to second-guess them, was a waste of time and energy. What was done, was done. Trull had made his decision and, as a man of honour, he would stand by this new Summoner, even if he was ultimately destined to die in much the same manner as his brother no doubt had. Yet, what did he have to fear from this journey? Death? Death would greet him eventually. Whether he journeyed with this Summoner or not, it made little difference: he could not predict when he would die. So, what point in trying? It was not something to contemplate, not something worthy of despair. It was simply a fact of life.

The shore is ever blind to the sea.

Another voice, faint, speaks back now in response, within his mind...or so he believes;

And the sea, Trull, does not dream of you.

 

[Linnaete]

[FONT=&quot]“So what is it you seek in Spira? You wander like a lost vagrant, seemingly unsure of where you are heading to?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Well, no. I left [/FONT] [FONT=&quot]Bikanel[/FONT][FONT=&quot] Island[/FONT][FONT=&quot] recently to uhh, well I guess all I wanted to do was to explore Spira and learn all about it. You see, my father kept me recluse as a child and I was raised to see Home as our little cocoon. Yet like a morphing caterpillar, he surely couldn’t have expected me to leave that cocoon. Being recluse means…I know very little about Spira and where I am.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“You are bold, child. As an Al-Bhed girl, you freely wander our lands seeking, currently seeking refuge of some kind. Are you not aware that your kind is often abhorred by the denizens of Spira? I see my words have startled you…”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Why would we be abhorred? Our own island has always been peaceful. We would never have dreamt of any kind of aggression…!”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Oh no child, it is not politics that is sowing this division between the Al-Bhed and the rest of Spira. You stand in a land that has long been theocratic. For a millennium Yevon has been the world’s guiding hand, leading the denizens of Spira like sheep. It is the theocratic teachings of Yevon that have determined that the very existence and usage of prohibited Machina is the very reason that Sin continues to ravage our world to this day. To the Maesters and the acolytes of Yevon, the Al-Bhed represent nothing but heresy. You continue to preach the necessity of Machina while the world shuns it. You continue to use Machina unguided, while the world shuns it. You continue to defy the Order of Yevon, while the world shuns you. It is frankly, potentially unsafe for a young Al-Bhed girl such as yourself to roam the lands alone.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“If Spira abhors us so, then why are you allowing me to seek refuge? Surely you would turn me in to the temples instead and allow me to face punishment for what my race has done?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Child, I am not so blinded by Yevon’s ideology that I would abandon my principles. Al-Bhed or not, you are fellow humans and I’ve no right to wish punishment on you in any way. The fact of the matter is many do not actually wish harm on the Al-Bhed. What I stated before was a possibility of the potential of danger that could be imposed on you, if radical acolytes detect your lonesome vulnerability and wish to take advantage of it. Tell you what, if you are not in a hurry to reach a destination anytime soon, perhaps I can mentor you.”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Sigva, my mentor, how those words resonate in me still to this day…[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Resting the sword on her right shoulder, Celviev positioned herself carefully, eager to avoid arm fatigue. Her sword was heavy; it was adorned with numerous dials and various switches, its composition heavily adamantium metal and the blade gleaming splendidly in the sunlight, as rays reflected off its brushed steel edge. Her weapon was ordinarily forged, but infused with Machina; it was now an enhanced sword fitting for the God of War himself. As Celviev worked to compose herself, remembering to maintain her battle style, her target lingered in front of her, snarling with insatiable anger at her while poised – clearly aware that its partner had just previously been slain. These fiends prowl the roads, feral in the day, feral in the night. O’ souls of the dead, must you be so envious of the living on this world that you would rather prey on them eternally rather than rest eternally in the Farplane? The coyote was impatient, though its strength was spent. Nevertheless it pounced at the lone Al-Bhed woman. With effort, Celviev retaliated impulsively, swinging her enhanced Machina sword with flawless accuracy, separating the coyote’s torso from its abdomen. A cacophony of Pyreflies ensued, rising like windswept orbs into the air and out of sight. Sheathing away her sword, Celviev started to contemplate the physical training that Sigva had given her. A generous, benevolent man, she thought to herself. Perhaps no other would have gone to such great lengths to train her and endure her like this. If she were to pass by Luca during the pilgrimage, she had to meet up with Sigva again. It was surreal – just how long ago it seemed to be since she said her goodbyes to him. They certainly shared an interesting master-student relationship indeed and it saddened Celviev to think that this great man was going through poor health. She begged that his health had not deteriorated enough that by the time she reached Luca she could be too late. They had to get a move on then. Dawn had arrived and the fiery orb began to rise from above the horizon. She was not tired, she had already rested during the evening and was now already refreshed enough to return to the village and begin preparations.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]As she ascended the mountainous hill on the outskirts of the village, another coyote sought this chance to ambush her. Unfazed, Celviev rolled to one side to dodge before brandishing her sword again. The coyote pounced excitedly, but its fangs soon kissed the cold steel edge of her blade. Celviev swung the weapon violently, almost hurling it, sending the coyote slamming against a rock face. Deciding to spare the creature due to a sudden rush of sympathy for it after that painful skirmish it experienced, she re-sheathed her sword and walked off, the view of the village from where she was very clear in the brilliant dawn sunlight. While she battled fiends, the village was sleeping, with one young man ready to follow the path he strove for and one young woman adamant in protecting him to the best of her abilities. With this physical muscle, she thought to herself as her hand gripped the hilt of her blade in its sheath, maybe they had nothing to fear in this pilgrimage? Nevertheless, what troubled her still was the look of distrust upon her by the temple priests and acolytes. Perhaps Besaid was friendly enough to permit her to enter the temple and be a guardian despite her race – what if other temples were far stricter? Perhaps on the safe side, concealing her identity within the boundaries of temples could be a good idea in order to avoid trouble…[/FONT]

 

[Martel]

[OOC: Can I safely assume we're hopping forward in time a little bit to the next day? *thought it was approaching dusk*]

Selene stumbled out from the temple, eyes aching as they adjusted to the dawn light...dawn? Had she been in there all night? It seemed like only moments ago that she had walked into the temple. How strange. The bloody light of the Sun was beginning to hurt her eyes, yet it was so beautiful. It stirred something deep within her, something buried and, like much of her past, forgotten until this moment.

"Blooded sky, in the aftermath of a storm. We must be cautious."

"It's pretty!" her own voice echoed in her ears, yet it did not sound as though she had said it. So...full of life. Had she really been that way before...everything? "How could something like this be a bad thing? I've never seen a sky like this before!"

"I have seen such a sunrise only three times before in my life, and never have I seen it affect the ocean so." the man replied, "Each time, it has heralded great disaster in one area of the world or another. So, we must keep an eye out for one another. Bad form to start this journey with one of us dying, right?"

"He speaks nonsense, sister. Ignore him." a woman's voice said then on her right side, the scathing contempt in her tone. Sister? Where had she heard that before? She had a sister? Where was she? Who was she? "Superstition, and nothing more...unless he continues to aggravate me."

"There is always a grain of truth in superstition." the man replied, amusement clearly in his tone, as though they bantered like this all the time. "But she's right about one thing: nobody is going to die. But you look about ready to pass out. Let's get on the boat, so you can get some sleep before we reach the mainland. You'll need it."

The voices faded, and Selene suddenly realised that she was indeed incredibly tired. She must have been in that temple all night...although she couldn't recall the last time she had slept...or ate. It seemed that she didn't do either of these things anymore, yet surely she must, or she would have collapsed and died long before now. It was strange; it hurt to think about such things. She wondered if all Summoners experienced such odd detachment from their bodies after having visited the Fayth. She vaguely recalled that there had been one, a young man, in there before her. Perhaps she'd ask him sometime, for no doubt they would meet again in due time. Something about him reminded Selene of herself, and she felt a kinship of sorts with him, something she had never felt for anyone. One of her background had no friends, after all. Yet she'd had guardians, yes...perhaps they were waiting on the boat for her.

She meandered her way onto the boat, pulling her hood tighter about her face, to keep the Sun's harsh light out of her eyes. She would sleep, as the man had said, until she reached the mainland. Yes, sleep seemed the best thing for her right now...

---

Trull watched the Unsent Summoner from his vantage point upon the cliff, as she made her way to the boat, swaying unsteadily, as though drunk. Had she truly met with the Fayth? She must have, for she would not have left the chamber if she had not. Yet, she had only been in there for a few hours! Clearly a formidable woman, unlike the Summoner he had sworn to protect, who was so inexperienced it was baffling how such a child could ever have become a Summoner. As she disappeared into the boat that would take her - and them - off the island, Trull frowned. Perhaps he would seek her out later. It was unusual for a Summoner to travel alone. Yet, everything about this woman was unusual. Unsent. A summoner. Clearly Guado, yet Trull had noticed some Al Bhed characteristics within her as well. An unholy union by many races' standards, to be sure. Plus, there was the way she affected Xenia...no matter how powerful her presence, she should not have been able to cause her to lose conscious. As weak-willed and feeble as Xenia was, Trull did not believe this was coincidence. No, there was something there, and he intended to find out precisely what it was. There was more to her than met the eye...and that was saying something.

Trull closed his eyes, feeling the gentle morning breeze caress his face like a lover. There was always life in areas such as these, yet recently he had begun to hear something else, something that did not belong: footsteps. Now faint, due to the cacophony of noise that assailed his ears as the island began to awaken from its slumber - the wind echoing off the weathered stone monuments and produced an odd whistling sound as it passed through the holes within them; the waves crashing upon the rocks in a steady, heartbeat rhythm; the hum of insects and the songs of birds; the growl of a predator and the hurried flight of its intended prey, followed by the rustling sounds of the chase - yet the owner was clearly making no effort to disguise their passage. Was that due to arrogance, stupidity, or inexperience? Quite possibly it was all three. Hunters, from the village? Trull could not believe that they would be so clumsy in their passage, for they had matured and spent a lifetime these areas, and would be keen to avoid the fiends who stalked the outskirts of the village, ever keen to prey upon the weak. The hour was too early for a hunt in any case, and there was but one person, of that he was certain. He would also have likely spotted them leaving their huts; from this point, Trull could see the entirety of the village, and with the exception of the Unsent Summoner, there was no movement, nor had there been recently. This was deliberate clumsiness, then? What point in encouraging the fiends that dwelled here to attack? They were far too weak to pose any challenge, no, they would provide nothing but false self-assurance. Foolish. Yet none of his concern. The one thing the races shared was their desire for the feeling of control over their lives, and this thoughtless provocation of the fiends that dwelled here was clearly such an act.

He moved away from the cliff edge, collecting his spear from where he had planted it in the ground hours earlier, feeling its comforting, solid weight in his hand for a moment - here, then, was his equivalent, and it was equally as ephemeral and pathetic - before returning it to its customary place in the sling on his back. He returned his attention to the horizon, watching the Sun as it steadily crawled out from behind the ocean, staining the waters and the sky both the colour of blood as its influence expanded, and the dawn slowly became the day. An omen to be found within this, to be sure...yet, by the time they departed, the blood would be washed from the ocean, the Sun a blazing white orb hanging overhead. Still, Trull had not seen its like in many years and, having greeted the Sun each morning since his first day amongst the Ronso, a small part of him was unsettled by this. Superstitious nonsense...yet there was ever a grain of truth within superstition, and the journey that faced them was perilous. Such an ominous start to their first day of travel together did not bode well...but then, with an inexperienced, mouthy summoner and the supposed "legendary guardian" Xenia - the living personification of the concept of failure - within the group, it was hardly surprising. Between the two of them, it would be nothing short of a miracle if Trull ever saw Mt. Gagazet again.

The fiends would not enter this place, and if they did they would be greeted by the kiss of cold steel; vicious they may be, but they were not fearless or stupid. Trull had killed many of their kind upon arriving on the island. They would remember him, and they would know that to encroach upon his solitude would be to invite an absolute death, the very thing they sought to avoid the most. Strange, and yet also amusing, that the Unsent feared death more than the living did. What had they touched upon, in those final moments? Was death truly such a terrifying thing? Or was it that, in facing death, they had been forced to confront the unknown, and their fear had only intensified as a result? The living all possessed no sense of their own mortality until death arrived, and by that point it was far too late. They lived in the bliss of ignorance. When ignorance was not a luxury you could afford, what could you do? Thus were the Unsent born, those who ran from finality and then kept running, hoping and praying that it never caught up with them. That sense of mortality, then, was perhaps what separated the living from the Unsent. Or perhaps not. It mattered little, for Trull would discover the answer in time.

He was still alone. Yet perhaps Trull would have company this morning, before he departed from this island with the Summoner, and his...guardians.

 

[Gaige]

Tyrann left the hut quietly, without too much fuss, staff in one hand, propped over his shoulder in a manner the priests would admonish him for any other day. But today was an important day, so they would probably cut him some slack.

Tilting his staff nonchalantly as he tapped his feet, leaning against his hut as he gazed at the blue sky, the sun shining brightly, he realized how much more natural this place felt compared to the ethereal darkness of the Chamber of the Fayth.

Oh well, no time to think about that anymore was there. The First Summoning was about to commence. At his hands, of all things.

 

[Amizon]

Contemplating on what she knew, Xenia sighed. She didn't like knowing too much of what would happen in the future. She had been like that on the last pilgrimage, only being younger and more lively. It was hard to believe there was a time when she had been so carefree and adventurous, despite the impending journey ahead with her companions. It had been a wonderful pilgrimage, full of laughter and fun. However, the tragedy struck at sometime and that had changed the dynamic of the group. Even Xenia herself had mourned. She remained silent. Kept her distance. Spoke only when it was necessary.

The memories of those years ago overwhelmed Xenia. She rubbed her forehead with her hand and shook her head. This was the present, not the past.

She turned to face Tyrann, who looked like he was about ready to perform the First Summoning. If she could smile, she surely would have done. But Xenia found it hard to express herself nowadays, not with her list of regrets and the trauma that followed. She walked over to him, her arms folded firmly against her chest.

"I see that you're up and about. It's good to see you."