boxofkururu | the rising

the rising

[ He had not wanted to be drawn from his yearly stupor of The Rising. Five years, the two he cared for both died during this time - both to prevent the Endtimes. In years passed, he tried to ignore the celebration in general. He could not stand to hear the sounds, listen to those who seeked to party to celebrate their survival.

This year, however, his fellow Archons - and those who called themselves Scions - had decided to go to the beach - and had brought him along. Perhaps they worried that if he were left to his own devices, something horrible may happen. (What had he done to earn that reputation. Were it the rumours of a man who looked like him? Many adventurers mimiced them, especially since they begun selling those replica uniforms.)

But Urianger... this one could not stand to be around them. This day was not one which he shared with many. Only his Carbuncle - who remained at his side today. A slight purr from the Carbuncle was a gentle comfort - but not one which ever mended the pain in his heart.

But then he stopped - his legs still moving until he was nearby, only but a few steps from her.

For, away from those who he had come with, he saw a familiar figure. One he had not seen for many moons - due to the moon.

An illusion - or an adventurer dressed and looking just as her? (There'd been a lot of mimics recently. He wondered why.) Before he could think it though, say anything, the golden tinted Carbuncle ran off towards Moenbryda - to flop by her, letting out adorable yips as if he were back as a Miqo'te and trying to get the attention of somebody at the Arcanists' Guild. (He could talk, but talking Carbuncle was usually enough to freak out people. And hey. She looked pretty nice, and Urianger was staring harder then he'd expected for anybody. Under his goggles, his dull gold eyes were laser-focused on her.) ]

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What's the matter with you? [ Not that she minded the company terribly, but it was odd for a Carbuncle to behave in this manner. In her experience, at least. Sharlayan, the nation of No Fun Allowed, intended for their arcanist summons to be as serious as the wielders of math themselves.

Reaching over from her chair along the sand, she'll try to pet the jeweled beast without concern of being attacked for doing so. She has more than enough experience with crystals to not feel threatened by a 'buncle. ]

D'you want a friend or somethin'? [ As if freshly summoned, a duller red Carbuncle dashed from behind the chair to join in on the pettings. After all, Moen has two hands.

Not that he's getting any pets. No, she fixates on adjusting the scarf he wore and for a moment, she seems to be hundreds of miles away mentally. Thinking of a home she could no longer return to and of the people she loved back then. ]

[ If he could find words in his throat, Urianger couldn't speak them.

Her voice.

Her tones, her inflections, her... everything. It must be a phantom, or perhaps his mind playing tricks on him. But Velas'to, pleased with the petting, seemed to nuzzle into the hand... before noticing the scarf. Oh, he knew that! His smart amazing friend knew much of it, for it was the sort he wore as a bracelet, or as a bandanna, or... well, he tended to wear it quite a bit. Something custom made, which he had given to one who died.

(Velas'to knew the feeling. It's why, in his fur, he kept a feather. A memento from when he was destined to be a Warrior of Light.)

But he looked back to his wielder... and then his ears lowered, breaking away from the pets (and a new friend) to run back to his side.

For Urianger had sunk to the sand, his legs giving out. No sound came out, but his goggles had slipped off his face - and silent tears fell. As if five years of mourning never had passed. As if... he was back to that very day, with somebody he had encouraged to come... to one who ran off to fight alongside his mentor, who vanished just as he did.

He couldn't hide his feelings. At least his clothes hid anything of his body which seemed wrong. He should have worn his hood, but the others wouldn't let him.]

[ That didn't last long. The arcanist it belonged to must be nearby, as Moenbryda rose to her feet. Brushing off the sand was a task in itself, with how much leg she had beneath her wrapped skirt, but one barely touched upon when she saw just who it was across the beach. ]

Urianger? [ No, it couldn't be.

Not that it keeps her from closing the distance. Fear of mortality was something she could no longer burden herself with, having that ripped from her just weeks ago. Whatever fears she felt were born of apprehension and loneliness, or being left behind once more. This time of year brought those feelings out the hardest and without Urianger here to soften the blow...

... it meant that the other blows were more likely to land. ] I don't understand.

[ Reaching out towards him with a hand, she pauses mid-air, too afraid to touch him just in case he wasn't real. ]

[ She'd noticed him. Whatever this being was had noticed him and spoken his name and...

...She... was as he remembered her. Perhaps a little bigger, a little tougher, but he looked up to her eyes. His eyes seeming to shine due to the tears, he tried to choke out anything. Trying to seem less pathetic then a man cloaked in black clothes, collapsed in the sand with a Carbuncle walking around the two of them in confusion.

And he mumbles but a little, raising his own hand to hers. His fingers trembling. ]

Moenbryda... how...? Thy life were...

[ Forfeit. So many years ago. Was it false?

She can't be fake, however. Everything is how it should be - or, so it feels. ]

[ Yanking her hand back before they could fully reach her, she realizes her mistake too late. The man who stood before her was Urianger, but not the one she knew of in this world. ]

I―[ I shouldn't be here. The single phonetic held enough of her apologetic tone in it to put her fear on display as she backed away, step by step. ]

―must leave right away. [ Adding hastily after: ] I don't belong.

[ No.

No. She couldn't go. He had just seen her. He had just realised it was really her.

But his legs couldn't move. They felt frozen - as if something was pulling him to the ground - and so he couldn't stand. Couldn't beg her to stay.

And his throat felt closed again. His expression shifted from his sadness, his own fear - to anger. ]

Don't.

[ It almost looked like the man who called himself Urianger to her - Miscarlet. But his expression showed none of that tiredness or sorrow.

But in a flash, a strange power filled the area around them. He knew he shouldn't. If anybody else noticed this, his life were forfeit itself. But he had been waiting... and now he needed to know. To touch her, to hold her close and find out how she survived.

The two of them were in a bubble of very slowed time, Uriangers' body trembling with power. His eyes now hollow, and his hands seeming to bubble and twist, trying to keep them looking Elezen. To his Moenbryda, he had shown her this before. She would understand, wouldn't she? The edges of this bubble of time - this bubble of paused time - it could not be passed though.

...But his eyes return to normal, and his expression quite suddenly turns to fear. She didn't belong. The words seemed to keep echoing though his head. A fit of anger and he'd cast one of the spells he had remembered from before - one he had told himself was forbidden. ]

[ Moenbryda wasn't afraid of the man before her nor of the spells her had. His body could twist into a horrifying visage all it wanted and still, she would not bring herself to fear him. Monsters and the people who command them were nothing to be frightened of.

What frightened her was the possibility she doomed an entire world with her existence. What would happen to the Urianger of this realm now that he has seen her alive and...

The fight left her.

Whatever spell he had conjured was working against her as she lowered herself to the sand slowly as to not fall over completely. As long as she could keep herself propped up with her arms, locking them straight in place, she wouldn't submit to him. That was a sign of weakness and while she felt her life force whittling away, she wouldn't be seen as weak before a potential enemy. ]

―if you do this, he'll hunt you down. [ Of course, she figures whatever is sapping her energy was a result of his doing. ]

[ He'd made a mistake.

What had he done?
He didn't mean to weaken her. He just didn't want her to run away. As if it had never happened, the bubble of time around them vanished - the aether vanishing once again.

And he could feel himself able to move. Even if his body still struggled to remain as it should be - remain looking like what he'd grown and lived as - he rushed to her side. ]

...He?

[ It was all he could say, as he was at her side - one of his hands giving silent commands to his Carbuncle. Get potions from his bag - sneak them out. Don't let any other Scion know what's happening?

She was so close, however, that he could finally reach a hand to touch her cheek. Feel what he had lost - and feel that sorrow deeply entering his chest again. He felt more words come out, however, in a whisper. ]

My life is forfeit - now or future, it matters not. All I hope... is to end dark designs.

[ ...He always felt he needed to remind her. Do not get too close to him, even if they both love each other. His eyes closed gently. Please be okay. He doesn't know how you got here, but he needs you to be okay.

For the sake of everybody else. ]

It must have been... [ As weak as her voice sounded, she found herself drawing upon the warmth of his touch to strengthen her. Almost as if the time (and worlds) apart couldn't keep her from loving him. ]

...severance in the aetherial flow with the embodiment of my very being.

[ Of course she couldn't find a simple way to say my soul isn't in my body, it's Moenbryda. Who at her worst was leaning into the palm of his hand while her own Carbuncle remains stunned in place, still catching up with time. ]

Your hope... [ Tired, she's just going to slump towards him, hoping to catch reprieve against his body. ] Is to end dark designs, is it? Does that include their creations as well, Urianger?

That it does.

[ He whispers. He does catch her, letting her rest against him. As if all at once, his body seems to relax.

She even felt the same. He let his hands wrap around her, a slight laugh entering his voice. ]

For if even one lives... he may bring danger to all, from simple existence. A device of theirs may become a point where resurrection is but a game of waiting, and many fall to risk once more. [ He said, looking to himself. Though it was so hard to break his gaze to her - she knew, didn't she. He would have someday vanished to nothingness - not even the lifestream took his kind. Not like her. But he then sighed. ]

Your aetherial center - where hath it been relocated? There is much danger from straying from what holds your self together - if it is not held close enough, forces of other plains of existence may tear and grip to it.

[ In other words, he wants to know your soul is safe. It feels right. Even after mourning her for so long, this felt so... right. As if she'd never vanished. ]

[ This Urianger speaks of things unknown to her, but she could hear the conviction in his words as though they were plainly written in a book spread across her lap. Placing her soul into a weapon was just the first step, wasn't it? Her heart aches to consider him capable of nefarious acts, but what was she supposed to think when he left her as he did?

He knew better than to leave her behind a second time. ] A game of waiting... perhaps that's all this is to that old coot.

[ Avoiding his question was easy enough though she knows him: he'll ask again and again, before discovering it on his own. There weren't many possessions here with her at the beach. A towel, a barely touched lunch, a Carbuncle with a hauntingly familiar scrap of fabric around its neck, and her weapon. ]

What were you saying about my life earlier? [ Tell her that she doesn't belong in this world on this day of all days and then make it so. ]

[ Her life...

It seemed to snap him back to reality. Though his hands had formed to tentacled abominations (he was losing focus on controlling his body. He was losing control for his sorrow filled him, he wanted to just disappear with her and spend so much time figuring her out without having to hide but another would seek him.)

His grip seemed to tighten, however. Voice filled with all the sorrow he could muster, after all of this. ]

The last... the last your light shone for I - for all - were as you scurried off to join our dear departed mentor. As Dalamud burned and opened to reveal the Dreadwyrm Bahamut-- you swore to stop it.

And vanished, as much did. Another...

[ Another who died. He can't say it though. Not when she's sitting right here. ]

...taken together with that who was trusted most.

[ Louisoix. They both vanished, taken for dead, with the Dreadwyrm. He never even had a corpse to hold - just the scarf from her Carbuncle, and the goods they kept together when staying in the same area together.

His tears have begun again. This was always the worst to admit - and this day was the worst to have to think of it. To have these old wounds ripped open by what may still be a false idol. ]

...in a blaze of glory then. [ What better way? A warrior's death. It sounds too perfect for one who found herself longing for death these past few bells. ]

'tis a warrior's death.

[ Dying alongside Louisoix... was that what had happened to her in this world? There was much to learn and while she shouldn't spend all this time discovering about herself, it was something she had trouble pushing out of her mind. ]

Bet you were mad at me for chargin' into battle with my weapon drawn. [ The memories she has of him, multiple him, all seem to focus around keeping her out of harm's way. ] What're you going to do? Force me to promise I'll behave myself this time?

That it was.

[ He mumbled. It was what she would have wanted. But his deal with that beast which brought him from nothingness... his own revenge...

It had never been filled, and his heart had been filled with loneliness, and trying to fill his own purpose. But at her question, he cannot help but crack the smallest of smiles. ] No man or lady alive could control you, once you hath decided your path. But I'd... desire you to no longer fight Gods, those who would destroy the minds of many with a single swipe. [ But he can't stop her. He couldn't stop her before. He yelled and screamed, lost his temper - and that had been the last he'd seen of her.

His head now resting on her, as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into her body - he could smell her, she smelled so familiar and as she should - he then had another question of his own. ]

...How do you still walk? You are not... like I.

[ Long ago, he had told her he was immortal, except to being trapped and shattered. He had told her about Ascians and all he knew. So that she could help him stop them. So he felt comfortable mentioning his state to her. ]

Of course I'm not like you. [ Everything about her was full of life, even in her weakened state. ] I don't have a stick up my arse.

If you learned to relax a little, you'd find life to be all the more enjoyable.

[ Of course she's chiding him about his work ethics. It's Urianger. No matter his past, she knows him to be hard working and often with his nose pointed at a text of some kind. ]

That's what makes those decisions easier. Enjoy one's self and when the time comes to oppose a god, do so with a good life backing the decision.

[ She was so full of life and at the same time, she wasn't.

The woman he held in his arm was nothing more than a hollow shell with personality. Her soul burned brightly elsewhere, no more than a few yalms away from the pair. ]

I've no time to relax - there's much to still learn. [ He says, gently. But that's when he says... ] But... it is understandable. To live in the moment - what a wonderful life that would be.

[ If only he could. Knowing that someday he would suffer an end. He didn't know how, but the Warrior of Light would find a way to end him.

But he felt a weird flicker in his body. He could feel something nearby...

...He couldn't let his hands leave her, else she may vanish. He doesn't know what she is - she can't be a normal Roegadyn. Even as he listened to her, she had an odd emptiness.

...It didn't matter if he was seen now. He had seen her, she was not angry at him for their fight. And as a single moment passed, she was not in the arms of what seemed to be Urianger.

Instead, it looked more like a reaper-esque Ascian Prime, though it was only one being. And a cloak of white covered it. In this state, it could sense more. And it could sense where she should be - in its' tentacled grip, the Ascian could not see the one inside. For in this state, Urianger only saw the strong Aether of beings and the land around them.

But it suddenly moved, to where the Carbuncle was - and the axe itself. And moved a tentacled limb to tough it, letting out an inhuman curious skree. Quietly, of course. ]

[ It isn't as if she needed the reminder that she was apart from herself, but seeing him transform freely before her. That was the sort of thing she never wished to associate with him, so she closes her eyes. Not tightly, but out of feigned exhaustion. She was already tired from the brief spell of being apart from her soul, surely he wouldn't think much of it. ]

... still the sharpest edges you'll ever know. [ Moenbryda murmurs, knowing he's likely mishandled her weapon. That and it was fun to exercise her wit every so often. ]

Leave it to my friend. He's used to dragging that old thing 'round. [ The request is a feeble one, as she found herself desiring his focus on her and not on her. ]

[ He hears her voice. But it isn't coming from where her soul is. While changed, his mind shifted as well to one thinking more of simply protecting her.

And if that meant he had to wrap his 'hands' around where her soul was? Still letting out curious sounds, trying to focus his eyes back into the plain he should be focused on. His expression - still maskless, though the face looks unlike any living creature should, Spoken or -kin - was utterly baffled. But it tried to look to where it felt the force - and the slightest of Aetherical senses - leading towards the axe.

And then, as he felt himself leaking Aether, he placed her axe to her - before letting out a whine. He held it too tight, and it slipped from his grip onto her...

...For the tentacles he had been holding into it with had fallen to the ground, turning to aether and vanishing. In a flash, Urianger was back to looking like a man. Though one of his hands was now clearly... fingerless, only stumps remaining.

And Velas'to had finally returned with potions for Moenbryda to this scene. ]

[ Between the pair, Urianger was in far greater need of those potions than herself. At least she managed to catch the axe, to keep it from causing further damage to either one of them.

The damage of seeing him injured in this way was a bit more unbearable for her. Her free hand goes to her mouth to keep her scream from being too loud, worried about others rushing to the scene should she draw attention to it. ]

What're you-? [ Doing? What are you? Moenbryda isn't sure as to which question she was asking.

The sound of a Carbuncle's link with its arcanist precedes her fainting, but not by much. She's out like a babe. ]

[ He couldn't leave her here. Not that he'd want to, but... he couldn't leave her here.

For he was slowly realising that all the Aether and powers he had used could call attention to them. If he fled, he could flee in a way to make the trail vanish... and she would be safe. For what would one of the living Archons think if the dead were seen again? Would they try and fell her?

He couldn't have it. A slight whisper of apology, as he grabbed onto her and teleported.

Where to, though?

To his bedroom. A small room, but there were many flowers - many wrapped around the poles of his double bed. A few of his favorite books lay on handcrafted bookshelves, a simple desk holding many scattered papers.

Laying her down in the double bed - placing the axe in her arms - he pulled a chair up to sit and watch. ]

[ The scholar rests, looking more at peace than she ever did during the time of remembrance for the Rising. Whatever sleep she had was kind to her and while it wasn't generally good for someone to remain passed out for so long after fainting, her body seemed to be doing well enough on its own.

It's the sound of distant fireworks that stirs her once more. Children ran through the streets everywhere with them once the sun began to set, making it impossible to sleep through to morning some nights. ]

Urianger. [ While the scents were the first thing to fill her mind, it's his name she speaks out instead. When she thought of home, she was reminded of him and of their time spent among Thaliak's finest. ]

That thing you did before...

[ The children... sometimes, it were nice to hear some who do not seem to hold the day in simple horror. But he was still too worked up. As she had been out cold, he had slipped off his more outdoor-esque clothes to nightrobes. Ones more comfortable, to both him and the parts of his body he still felt he needed to hide.

But missing the fingers from one hand was making it a bit more difficult. His voice is so gentle as he replies, sitting and looking to her - goggles replaced on his face. ]

...I promised, when we were both younglings. Before anything. That if you were ever in danger, I would do anything to help - dropping mine disguise. I never got to show thee. But I...

[ He can't finish that thought. He failed. He promised he would protect her, but Dalamud stopped it. He couldn't have followed. He needed to help pray - though his thoughts had been with them. ]

But... you were in no danger then. It only... felt that way. Your body hold nothing, but your soul - trapped in an object. I apologize if it were frightening.

[ But she's not hurt. Not like him, as he nurses the hand in his other, curiously rubbing his fingers over the already-sealed holes. He continues - looking to her and the weapon. ]

Is that how... thee survived?

[ It is frightening but not in the manner he believed. The discovery that her soul was placed in the weapon was a recent one and while she had struggled to believe the young girl who told her this, the incident how many bells ago proved it.

Rolling over onto her side to face him, she gently thumbs the handle of the axe, comforted by its presence. He was thoughtful enough to return it to her rather than mess with it and that was something she would remember. ]

I―[ didn't survive was the harshest way to put it, especially as she laid here proving opposite of it. ] I'm a minion of one of those you have sworn to end. The woman you made that promise to... it can't possibly be me no matter how much either of us want it to be.

[ Her hand stops, as she looks beyond the axe towards him with a silent plea in her eyes. Between the two of them, he was powerful enough to end whatever she's become so he should. ]

[ ...His expression shifts from one of caring to quite an angry one straight away, to sadness alongside. Though he would still shine with curiosity, he can tell what that plea means, that look. The idea of her becoming a minion - one of the Ascians' thralls...

...But why? Did another know of what happened before? Who would go after her - well, there were many answers. Especially if she'd...

It looks like he's defeated. Though there is some Ascian-esque magic sparking at his fingers - on the hand which remains - he... can't do it. He should be able to.

Not tonight. He knows he killed her before - before he learned the joys of life.

And that's what he says. ]

If you linger to the morn... then I shall assist. But... I cannot. Even as an illusion -- as a false figure of memories passed...

[ He wants you to be here. Perhaps that's why she is here - so that the Ascian can claim him. But he was never able to understand death. He lets his voice crack - he lets his body tremble, and his tears fall once more. ]

...I miss you. I thought you not to return. Even if-- even if you simply look like her. You act with her beauty, and the grace lost so long ago to schemes of the others. Schemes I-- cannot work with anymore.

A false idol... the one you call an 'old coot' [ her words, not his ] were the one who did this?

[ But... he also had to tell her. He'd told her bits and pieces - this false Moenbryda. So he bowed his head. ]

I am... Ascian, borne of the flesh of Spoken. I share not their desire for Zodiark... but one day, the Light shall banish my Dark. Would that I knew how...

...And would be that I could go to wherever a Spoken rests forevermore, instead of nothingness. My death has come once before, when I were--

--Ah.

[ She wouldn't know of Nabriales, would she. He lets out a small sigh. And cups his hands in his legs again. ]

...I were known by the name Nabriales.

Nabriales... [ It would have been a kinder blow had he dealt a physical one that would have killed her.

There was much to think about and each time he spoke, he gave her more information that needed to be reflected on. The questions he asked her went by unanswered as she stared aimlessly beyond him, lost to her thoughts.

She knew deep down that she was still herself. The very aether of her being was housed in another vessel, sure, but she was still herself. Her thoughts, her wit, her mannerisms, her pain, her joy, her love for Urianger Augurelt―these were all things that were her. ]

From this world or from another? For the Nabriales I know... [ Tried to kill her. Nearly succeeded. ]

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