isleofavalon | The (un?)merry month of May

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final fantasy xiv: emet-selch

The (un?)merry month of May

🧙 WHO: Jullus and whoever!
⚔️️ WHAT: Assorted DitL-style things + May event prompts
🕒 WHEN: The latter half of May
🗺️ WHERE: various, see prompts
⚠️ WARNINGS: none atm

{i, closed to housemates}

[For all that Jullus is, by this point, at least used to the idea of having found himself in another world, there are still times when it feels ... odd to be living in a house full of other people. A house that might have found itself down at least one member recently, but even so it's... strange. Both for the fact that the idea of having genuine privacy is still a little novel and for the fact that the last time he'd shared a house with anyone previously it had been his own family.

(He might be reasonably certain the people he currently shares a house with aren't going to share his family's fate. But the thought is harder to shake for certain.)

Still, he makes an effort to offer a polite nod to anyone he should happen to pass by even if he is often not the most inclined to initiate conversation beyond that. And if the room he has happened to choose as his is kept military-neat, well. Surely he can't be blamed for that.]

{ii, OTA}

[Absent anything else to do - he has not yet made any significant effort to find a more permanent job, and is not entirely thrilled at the idea of taking on quests - Jullus can mostly be found training. With his gunblade more than anything. While he is well aware of the fact that he's meant to have some - and has no significant problem with magic either - he's not entirely sure what he's meant to do with it. Especially when his gunblade has been more than enough before.

And so he can be found making well-practiced swings at imagined enemies, while his familiar hops back and forth behind him.]

{iii, OTA}

[Though Jullus has no particular interest in - or familiarity with - the Fisher King and so opts to not go on the search for him, even he isn't blind to the change that takes over Camelot in the days that follow. It's not a surprise, perhaps. Even he knows that an absence of any direct authority in a region often has disastrous effects. But neither is he particularly inclined to simply sit by and watch as criminals and ne'er-do-wells suddenly make their presence known across Camelot.

A gunblade might be poor protection against curses. But he's willing to make the attempt and when he spots a shady figure coming down the street he turns to whoever happens to be nearby, hand falling to the hilt of his gunblade.]

Go. I'll hold them here.

[He will... probably manage to not inflict any serious injuries on the criminals in question. But he's certainly not above it seem like it might be the case otherwise.]

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[ The gunblade seems to be a very particular weapon. He hasn't seen it present much despite so many varied peoples and varied worlds. So it is that a young man training with one catches his eyes, leading him to wander closer and watch their form.

...Ah. Isn't that...a Garlean? Suddenly he is a lot less certain about being present, even if by now his hair has grown out long enough for him to tie back in a ponytail. His face is still quite recognisable to a native.

He's about to turn to leave, but then his familiar squalls loudly at a passing creature. ]

[Jullus, for his part, hasn't put too much thought into the comparative rarity of gunblades. Admittedly, that's just as much on account of that that he hasn't been in Avalon for more than a couple of months as anything else, but even then it's not really something that matters overmuch to him. He knows his own weapon - and that much is clear from his form, even absent a proper enemy to fight - and what anyone else should choose to wield is only relevant insomuch as it affects how he might need to fight someone wielding it.

Still, the sound of Emet-Selch's familiar squalling catches both his attention and his familiar's; his familiar shrilling in surprise as it skitters around behind his legs even as he turns to look at who happens to be passing by.

Only to frown as he catches sight of Emet-Selch properly. Longer hair or no, he knows that face. Even if it should be one out of the pages of history.]

You can't be...

[And yet... who else would go walking about looking like the founding father of the Empire itself?]

[ Sometimes he thinks his familiar does this deliberately. He shoots the gwiber an faintly irritated look - receives an innocent head tilt in return - and turns to face the young man. There's little question that this face is that of the emperor, hair notwithstanding. ]

I didn't think I would meet another Garlean here.

[There's definitely no denying that is the face of the emperor, now that he's seeing in properly. It's still something that all but beggars belief, even given that he's had a couple of encounters that he would consider highly unusual at best, but he certainly can't deny what he's seeing.

And for a moment, he's not sure even how to answer. His loyalty is - was - to Emperor Varis most of all, but even he can't deny Garlemald has owed much of her success to the man standing before him.]

Would anyone, when there are people from so many worlds beyond ours here?

[ This one doesn't seem particularly... hmm, devoted, for lack of a better term. He recalls that au ra boy reacting dramatically upon recognising him. Not that he minds - actually, this muted response is far more preferable right now. ]

Since you have a weapon, I presume you are a part of the army?

[It's less, perhaps, that he's not devoted, and more that he has - quite simply - run well past his ability to care for most things. Something that has not much been helped by finding himself in a completely different world besides.]

Yes. With the Ist, until its... dissolution.

[It's the most accurate way to describe it - or at least, the most accurate way that doesn't mean having to speak of Lord Quintus' fate. But it's still not entirely easy for him to say, either, and he's not exactly the best at hiding his emotions.]

[ Ah... Yes. ]

Loyal to Varis, then.

[ Or would be, if his grandson weren't dead. He reflects on that fact with some melancholy before shaking it aside. This boy has no idea of the true face of the Empire and he is reluctant to explain the complicated history of his actions. ]

Well, you need not treat me as your emperor here. I'm quite done with that business. What is your name?

[Quite thoroughly dead, yes, though Jullus likewise doesn't care to speak of it. Nor anything that had happened with Anima, afterwards. And though there is a faintly uncertain look at the comment of not needed to treat the man before him as his Emperor - more for the fact that he wouldn't have been, after his death, than anything else - he ultimately decides to take it at face value.

It's easier, for one.]

Jullus pyr Norbanus.

[He knows that, functionally, the Empire is dead and there's likely not any need to keep using his title. But old habits die hard, and it's been enough a part of who he is that it's not easy to put it down just yet.]

[ He lets out a consisdering hum. Quite a vital figure in his legion then, this one. Of course, he cares very little about adhering to these ranks right now but it reveals a little more about the boy.

He gestures at their gunblade. ]

Would you like a sparring partner?

[Of what his legion had been, perhaps. Even before its ultimate dissolution, the ongoing civil war and the losses at the hands of those in Anima's thrall had left the Ist very much not what it ought to have been.

But that pales in the wake of the offer that follows. It's not surprising, or not as much as it could be (he knows the first Emperor of Garlemald was a soldier too), but it's still not something that he would have expected either. And yet... he knows very well that there are hardly any other people who happen to be familiar with gunblades in Avalon, and for all that the offer is unexpected he knows, too, that he'd be all the more a fool for saying no.]

If you're offering.

[ He smiles faintly then glances down at his familiar. ]

Nyx, if you would be so kind?

[ The little gwiber squalls, turns around and hops into a dark portal. While he waits, he performs a few stretches to warm himself up. A short time later, Nyx returns with a gunblade in her mouth, which Emet-Selch bends down to take with a word of thanks. Straightening, he takes a few short strides to position himself and adopts a ready stance: one familiar to anyone with even passing familiarity to Garlean sword arts. ]

You may attack first.

[In light of his father's recent departure, Alfonse had unsurprisingly chosen to step up to take care of his share of the housework, which was namely cooking. While he was devastated by the loss, he was trying to soldier through it, as one does. It wasn't the first time, and it was a simple enough matter to fall back into old habits as the Responsible Older Sibling. Even if this time there was a subtle weariness to him.

So this morning he greets Jullus with a smile, as he cooked breakfast. Conveniently enough they both still seemed to maintain something of their military schedule. Not that his father was one to let them sleep in regardless.]

Good morning, sleep well?

[For all that he hadn't known Gaius particularly well, Jullus is no stranger to loss. And though he has relatively little reason to not believe that Gaius is most likely alive back in their own world neither can he be entirely certain. To say nothing of that fact that his departure - unannounced as it had been - is still very much a loss, even if Gaius is fine.

...As fine as anyone can be, in the wake of the Final Days. (That he does not, entirely, know how anywhere else fared is ... less relevant.)]

Well enough. You?

[He knows better than to assume the weariness to Alfonse - and he can spot it, not least of all for the fact that it's a feeling he's known himself - is anything to do with being less than decently rested. But the topic of sleep is at least easier than addressing the knotty problem of loss. No matter how recent it might have been.]

About as well as ever, so I can't complain.

[They were similar enough that both answers roughly translated to "I slept" which, after what they'd both seen and lived through, was indeed, well enough. It was a quiet understanding, as much seemed to be the way with them.]

Do you like Vareniki? I probably should have asked before I started making it- but I've got some sharlotka in case you don't. Just don't tell Megumi that I let you sneak off with nothing but cake.

[He looked up from his work, stuffing the little dumplings to offer the other a smile.]

[There's a nod at the answer. Though he knows exactly what it means, there's hardly any sense in pushing further. Especially when there's a much more immediately relevant topic at hand.]

I haven't had either in... longer than I care to remember.

[There'd never been the time to go the effort, after Anima had first made its presence known. And truth be told, he'd be more than glad to have either. Or both.]

But I won't tell her you were willing to.

[There's even the briefest flicker of something like a smile, as he takes the offered dumplings.]

[That earns a bittersweet smile of his own. It was much the same for him, he never could make it quite like his father did, so he'd been discouraged in past years, but now he craved the familiarity.]

Me neither honestly, making sharlotka was dangerous. No matter how close you watched it, or how you tried to lock it away, ,y brother Rex would always somehow get into it and eat it until he made himself sick.

[But he's going to slip Jullus two slices of the little apple cakes, a quiet bit of rebellion from the two of them.]

I won't tell if you won't.

Edited 2022-05-30 05:47 (UTC)

There was never time for it after things... changed.

[After Anima, he means, and though neither had exactly been a staple at his house before everything came to that sudden and crushing end.]

And what ceruleum we had was needed for the heaters anyway.

[Especially as time had worn on and survival had become more important than even the small comforts offered by familiar food. But even so... there's an appreciative half-nod as Alfonse slips him the slices of cake.]

I won't.

Such is life in the imperial army, isn't it? I think I've yet to hear a tale of a legion that got a happy ending.

[The infighting, the stranded legions in Bozja and Eorzea... granted he was the cause of the untimely end of the VIIth, but it was for the better. He only wished so many hadn't followed Valens so loyally.]

When my siblings and I were to be part of the weapons projects... I started trying harder to make better meals for them. Some days it was all I could do to keep their spirits up.

[He sits down across from Jullus with his own meal, taking a few of the cakes himself as well. Their secret.]

I don't think there are any.

[Happier, maybe. But getting stranded is about the best he can think of, especially when what he knows of most of the other surviving legions is that they'd ended up petitioning for Eorzean aid, when it became apparent that things had become scattered at best and outright fractured at worst.]

It was like that for us, at the beginning. Anything we could do to keep people's spirits up we did. Or... tried to do. But the longer things went on, the harder it became.

[There were always more things to fight. More friends and family turned enemies, more rogue magitek patrolling the streets. Things that had seemed all but endless, especially with the cold never entirely leaving even despite the heaters.]

You want to know the cruel irony of it all? I had been heading to Garlemald with an Ultima Weapon. Had I arrived… I could have potentially both ended the war as well as absorbed Anima.

[He takes a sip of hid tea. He figured he might as well talk about what happened to the VIIth Legion, and to him. It wasn’t exactly a secret that he’d died, but he’d kept the how of it quiet.

Father would… want him to be more open about it.]

Or I could have simply made matters worse… I wasn’t exactly in the best of mindsets.

Unless you had a way to get into the tower all it would have done was alert those under Anima's thrall. And I'm not sure how well the civilian refugees would have taken it.

[He's not sure what he would have made of it, to be quite honest, and there's a moments silence as he takes a bite of one of the dumplings.]

But being rid of Anima would have made at least some difference.

Well, I did take out a castrum or two before I was finally taken out. I’m not sure the building would have posted too much of a problem.

[It was almost odd speaking of his rampage and the destruction he wrought so…casually? He wasn’t due if that was the right word, but it felt so far away now, almost as though it had happened to a different person, and he had just watched.]

The thralls… well, all I could offer them would be a Swift death.

[As one who was still unaware of the cure for tempering.]

I’m honestly not sure what I would have done though. I had aspirations to end the civil war, to try and fix Garlemald to truly be a place for all her people…

A bit of a vague plan looking back on it now, but I wasn’t in a place where I could think of something more detailed.

I don't know what defenses it has. Or had. I couldn't even tell if they've all been dismantled.

[The tower itself hadn't been as of when he'd been brought to this world, that he knows. But then again, even aside from any defenses it might have had, the structure itself is hardly going to be the easiest to tear down. If only for its sheer size.]

And that's all we could do. Kill them before they killed us, or worse. But that was before the Eorzeans showed up.

[Why things might have changed is something he doesn't clarify, or not immediately at any rate.]

[ It's been a while since she's felt like this- and long enough ago that she'd buried the sadness through meeting new people, and enjoying herself in general with all the friends she makes.

For a while, with everyone feeling like family- she'd settled again. She may be no one of any consequence from their star- a Matriarch of some family no one cares or knows of, in the presence of all these heroes and amazing folks who she's only ever heard of or gotten to know in this world-

- it doesn't mean they don't grow dear to her, when they welcome it.

It's sad, however, when Gaius disappears, and she finds herself seated on the patio steps, the back balcony doors opened to accommodate her as she looks at the garden late into the evening, his golden bullet charm that he gave her in her palm, and an open book of sketches on her lap.

( The sketches are of the same miqo'te children Jullus and her witnessed that one time. Her children. )

She's been going through motions, a smile for the lovely friends living in the house- keeping a strong front for Alfonse who just lost his father (again)- at least not to death this time, but also for Jullus.

At least she's nocturnal, so being out here isn't too bad- and everyone is probably winding down for the night. Her spear is at her feet, but she hasn't moved to train, and she watches her dragonet fluttering around the garden idly.

With no one around, she doesn't need to wear her usual mask- and though she's been behaving normally, the usually upbeat matriarch has been rather quiet, perhaps checking a bit too enthusiastically on everyone and- the biggest shocker of all, actually eating so little that there are leftovers. There are usually no leftovers, ever. She eats everything.

Well, she doesn't expect to bother her housemates, but her focus is completely shot- enough to not notice the man beside her or even hear him coming until he's close enough- her only gesture of being startled being how her ears lift. ]

... oh. Thought you'd be in bed, already.

[For all that the stability is something that Jullus can't deny has been sorely missing in his life up to now, even he's noticed that things seem... different, in the wake of Gaius' absence. If only in the fact that there are sudden leftover, where usually there's been none. What he can do - and how much he'll be able to help - is another question, when he knows comparatively little about the problems of any of his housemates. But he's not surprised either, when he happens across her looking distinctly less upbeat than she's tried to be most of the rest of the time.]

It's... hard, sometimes.

[To get to sleep, or to want to go to sleep, even knowing that he's perfectly safe here. That Anima and Final Days have been vanquished, and are unlikely to return, either here or back in their own world.]

[ She pauses, turning her gaze up towards him. Then, drawing one of the cushions from behind her, she plops one down next to her and pats it to have him come sit. ]

Sit with me?

[ Whatever is hard, she wants to hear it and not focus on herself right now. Because that's... definitely not healthy, but she'd rather not be moping and feeling selfish. ]

[There's the briefest of blinks - at the offer more so than the cushion - but he nods at the question all the same. Actually managing to get him to talk about his problems is still likely to be mildly difficult at best, but sitting isn't so hard.]

If that's what you want.

[And he does settle himself onto the cushion only a moment later, though he makes no effort to offer anything else immediately.]

[ What she wants is inconsequential. She wants to go home, to be with her children, her brother and family. She's been here on her own- with the brief happiness she's had with her friends and her dear partners- for a very long time.

Suddenly being entirely alone... it's a lot.

Her ears flick as she lets him sit, though once he does, she turns the page of the journal she has- and removes a card with a sketch on it. It's decently sketched, tidy- and she hands it to him.

Of Jullus' siblings, smiling and playing in the snow. ]

I tried to recall them from memory, then asked a friend to help complete it. It came out looking as accurately as I could manage... but I thought you should have it.

[The desire to go home is, if nothing else, one he can understand. True, there's hardly much left of his home, and even though Garlemald still lives on (albeit absent the Empire, now) it has a long way to go before things are even remotely back to how they were before the destruction wrought by both civil war and the ungracious hands of Anima's creator.

(He believes - he hopes - that Garlemald will be able to rise from the ashes. But he knows too that it's not going to be an easy path and it's rougher than he'd have expected, to not be there to help.)

He doesn't expect the drawing she gives him, through he takes it when he hands it to her, and when he sees what it's a sketch of he can't hide the way tears rise into his eyes, nor the emotion in his voice.]

Thank you. It's... more than I would have expected.

[It's not much, perhaps. But it's still a way to remember them as they had been, once. Before he'd been forced into things he still wishes hadn't been necessary.]

[ Her gaze softens, and she withdraws her hand once he takes the card, before moving it to his shoulder. Though she's not smiling as brightly as she used to- she still tries to keep some warmth in her as she settles closer to him.

The emotion rising to his eyes isn't missed, and she lifts her hand to the back of his head, giving it gentle strokes. ]

Even if it's in a place like this, I want you to have a home. We're both too far from our own, aren't we?

[ Jullus doesn't have much to return to, and she's been stuck away from hers for so long. ]</small. We should try to make the best of what we do have, aye?

[Even knowing she means nothing by it, the physical contact is... not something Jullus takes particularly easily. He doesn't shy away - he knows that it's at least meant to be comforting - but it's ... not. Not entirely, and some of it is likely due to the fact that he has, of necessity, gone without such casual touch for longer than he'd really care to think about.

(It's not something he couldn't get used to again, he thinks. But he is not really used to it now.)]

Much too far, yes.

[Maybe one day he'll manage to make a proper home out of what has become of Garlemald. But that day is still far in the future.]

But what of you? Is this a place you have a home in?

[ Touch is how she maintains some semblance of closeness- it's so important to her that she doesn't even think twice about giving it. Which is why she tries and tries to maintain some of it, because without it, everything seems so much darker.

She is, however, good about picking up on people's comfort- and she doesn't stroke his hair for much longer, withdrawing her hand and listening to him, until that question. And there's- something of a sorrowful look that crosses her features, before she moves her hands over her lap. ]

I like to think I've made one that works. But a home without the people you care for is just a house, isn't it?

[ She looks down at her hand, her brother's bracelet still on her wrist, and touches it absently. ]

When I got this place, I'd mine partners... and friends. The latter are here now, too, but... this place takes people away so easily. And 'tis hard to say much because what would the point be, other than saddening those that are in similar positions?

[ Even as she says that, there's a lump in her throat that she tries to swallow down. ]

'tis worse when you're around no one you know. I've met many from our Star, and their common thread is knowing- and caring for- the Warrior of Light. 'tis hard not to feel resentful then, aye?

[She might not be wrong, about things seeming darker without something to find comfort it. Whether that should be touch, or duty, or any of many other things he knows people have found some solace in.]

It still has the memories of home. But it's not the same.

[And that even without taking into account the physical state of that home, and what might have become it, like is the case with his.]

It's... not easy to talk about. Even when other people might also know the feeling. Even when you want nothing more than to remember them. Remember that they were here. Wherever that 'here' might be.

[And while simply no longer being present in Avalon is a far cry from being dead... it still means not being able to see that person.]

And I wouldn't say I... care for them. Just that they... helped.

Aye.

[ She can only imagine what that would mean for Jullus- she at least, still has her family, her children- her clan. She's their Matriarch, after all.

Jullus... probably doesn't have much else at all. And it makes her feel sorrowful imagining that. Would that she could invite him to stay with her back home, too- he'd get along with her brother and probably knock him down a peg or two, she imagines.

But those thoughts are set aside as she smiles weakly and nods, her ears flicking back. ]

... aye. They helped...

[ She repeats that, before leaning back. ]

So did the rest of us, though. The healers, the engineers, the soldiers... while I too, am glad for them, 'tis a bit disheartening being so far from home and hearing from those from a place you know- that your efforts hardly mean the same.

[ She shakes her head. ]

Though I suppose I haven't gone to the ends of the universe. Gaius... told me the "me" he knew- was a Warrior of Light too. I can't even imagine it. Imagine being a hero like that.

[He has his fellow soldiers, at least. They might not be the same as his own family - nothing could be - but they... understand. If not the whole of his situation, then the idea of loss. Of dissolution, and destruction, and the desperate need to stay alive. All things from which a kind of camaraderie had sprung up.

But that is something that is largely irrelevant here, where the only person who has really understood that sense has been Alfonse, and even then there have still been differences in their experiences.]

Do you know what I remember most from all of... what happened? It wasn't anything the Warrior of Light did. It was the kindness we were shown when we came to your camp after bringing over the refugees.

[After Quintus' death, and being released from their duty.]

It was feeling warmth again, for the first time after so long. People speaking to us like we were... welcome. The same as any other.

[ She remembers it. Hells, she'd been one of the few to welcome them- the children, their mothers, the few who had survived. She doesn't bring it up- her actions were to help them, not boast about it. Kindness like that doesn't go forgotten.

It makes her heart warm, despite how heavy it's feeling. She exhales quietly, ears flicking forward. ]

Aye... that warmth is important for us all, isn't it...

[ She looks out at the garden, before- braving her thoughts, and hesitations. ]

You know... my parents died protecting our family from a Garlean assault. I was too young to understand the gravity of it... all I knew was these people had taken my parents from me. And as I grew older, the thing I resented- was that I never got to be a girl as a result. I was my brother's protector, his mother- and eventually our clan's Matriarch.

Yet... [ She leans back, looking over at him. ] 'twas a Garlean Tribunus that showed me kindness years later, and freed me from what would have been a merciless end. And a kind medicus who made sure I was healthy enough to escape. She's part of mine own family now.

[ She hasn't spoken about this since Jakurai learnt about it from her. But it's easier to talk about it years later. ]

It could have been anyone that hurt my family, or showed them kindness. The important part is that kindness was shown, in the end. And paying it forward is better than hurting those that need it the most, aye?

[It doesn't, especially when there'd been precious little of it in their lives before. Or rather, no time for it. No time for anything, really, except for the very real necessities of staying alive.]

Yes. It is.

[And in more than one way in a place as cold as Garlemald is prone to being; the very literal sort of warmth just as important as the kindness people had shown them.]

Yes. But we were never taught to expect it. Not from the people who had been our enemies. Even if there were some of us who were... willing to see the possibility.

[Quintus hadn't. Hadn't wanted to, almost, and until they had been formally released from their duty they'd had no choice but to follow his lead. Even if it hadn't been anything they had necessarily wanted to do.

And he does wonder, a bit, at the tribunus who had been willing to show her kindness. Who they were, and if he happens to know them. But he figures it's not as relevant as the story itself.]

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The (un?)merry month of May

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so sorry, had a bad week

no worries! I kind of fell off the face of the earth myself a bit

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