No one could agree where the sickness came from. Cases started a little over a year ago, those whispers from poor markets and sky pirates suggested it had been another year before that. White magicks did little other than ease the pain, and scholars and healers alike were helpless to stop its encroachment.
Crowns and empires sunk money into research, and as attempt after attempt failed, one possible solution continued to appear over and over: a tea made from the dried petals of a magical flower that only grew in the mountains of a remote island that no airship could reach. Even if the flower had died, there was a chance there were still old powders from the ancient group that lived and practiced there.
Of course, it was a Mist-Shrouded island with a sea full of monsters around it.
Many of the recruits had afflicted family members. Basch suspected he'd have volunteered too, if he were there age. Now, he knew he might not make it back from a task like this. But he and a handful of others knew Archades's new emperor was among those afflicted, and should he fall, he feared the continent would plunge back into war. That, and he had an uncle's fondness for the young leader, dare he even say a brother's.
It's their last night before the transports set sail, and he's seated by a camp fire, trying not to think too hard about these youngsters or the other times he's sat like this, a calm before and event that would change the world, reminding him how tiny he was.
There's someone else at the fire near him, not as green, not as full of bounding energy and a belief in their perfect salvation. "Not your first time either, I take it," he says by way of greeting. "Pegasus or Gryphon?" The two transports.
Basch doesn't respond because Balthier has taken his phone, which Basch quite thinks he should have done before this endeavor started. He resents being convinced to carry one at all, and is replaying tonight's terrible slew of choices for the umpteenth time when he spots Fran, and a moment later, Lady Ashe.
He sucks in a breath, which means he snorts in the pint of water he's been nursing. Rather than sneak out diplomatically, he's now pounding his chest and hacking away at the counter, Balthier grinning like a fox and patting his back as he waves the ladies over.
"One knight, relaxed and loosened, as promised," Balthier says cheerily.
"There is nothing -- relaxing about any of this -- " he wheezes, carefully making eye contact with only the counter.
Basch sits at the end of the bar's counter; it's early afternoon, and it's not particularly busy. His stein is half-empty, and he's been fidgeting with his phone since Gladio said he'd join him.
He glances up and catches his eye, waving him over. Inside, he's squirming, regretting all of this, but he's not one to back out once he's begun.
[ He has no awareness when he is in the deepest throes of transformation. It is one of the things that pains him most; reason does not matter, and more often than not, he cannot remember his actions. It is possible that the townsfolk have accused him of pure rumor, as humes will do when faced with fear.
But it is also possible that the truth in those rumors is more than mere seeds. That is what he fears most, and so he tries to keep himself to remote places before the change comes on.
That is how he comes to be in this remote section of would beyond a difficult pass in the mountains. Still, there are other humans who wish to be remote, and so, a massive wolf with sandy hair, he's gorging himself on a stray sheep he plucked from a passing flock when the first stirring of something strange strikes him. Even as a wolf, he recognizes the heralds of the transformation back. It is painful, and vulnerable. He whines, not wanting to relinquish his meal, but another strum of it, harder and stronger than ought to happen, and he's barreling off to find some protected hollow to hide in.
Except the change comes too fast, and utterly uneven. Lupine whines and snarls turn to the groans of a man, and when Olivine finds him, he's shaking and naked, his shape mostly human, but his hind legs still wolven, his ears and tail still pointedly wear, and thick fur covering his legs. Scars cover his skin, and sweat breaks over his body. ]
Of course I would. I had quite a lot of fun in your company.
[not seen is the temptation to ask "do i want you to return to your own space?" And the amused smile therein. Sometimes one must simply be a bit more blunt with a partner.]
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Gladio | Flowers
Crowns and empires sunk money into research, and as attempt after attempt failed, one possible solution continued to appear over and over: a tea made from the dried petals of a magical flower that only grew in the mountains of a remote island that no airship could reach. Even if the flower had died, there was a chance there were still old powders from the ancient group that lived and practiced there.
Of course, it was a Mist-Shrouded island with a sea full of monsters around it.
Many of the recruits had afflicted family members. Basch suspected he'd have volunteered too, if he were there age. Now, he knew he might not make it back from a task like this. But he and a handful of others knew Archades's new emperor was among those afflicted, and should he fall, he feared the continent would plunge back into war. That, and he had an uncle's fondness for the young leader, dare he even say a brother's.
It's their last night before the transports set sail, and he's seated by a camp fire, trying not to think too hard about these youngsters or the other times he's sat like this, a calm before and event that would change the world, reminding him how tiny he was.
There's someone else at the fire near him, not as green, not as full of bounding energy and a belief in their perfect salvation. "Not your first time either, I take it," he says by way of greeting. "Pegasus or Gryphon?" The two transports.
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Do we wanna jump this forward?
Yeah that's probably a good idea.
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for @dalmast
Basch doesn't respond because Balthier has taken his phone, which Basch quite thinks he should have done before this endeavor started. He resents being convinced to carry one at all, and is replaying tonight's terrible slew of choices for the umpteenth time when he spots Fran, and a moment later, Lady Ashe.
He sucks in a breath, which means he snorts in the pint of water he's been nursing. Rather than sneak out diplomatically, he's now pounding his chest and hacking away at the counter, Balthier grinning like a fox and patting his back as he waves the ladies over.
"One knight, relaxed and loosened, as promised," Balthier says cheerily.
"There is nothing -- relaxing about any of this -- " he wheezes, carefully making eye contact with only the counter.
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Gladio | TFLN continuiation
Basch sits at the end of the bar's counter; it's early afternoon, and it's not particularly busy. His stein is half-empty, and he's been fidgeting with his phone since Gladio said he'd join him.
He glances up and catches his eye, waving him over. Inside, he's squirming, regretting all of this, but he's not one to back out once he's begun.
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For Olivine
But it is also possible that the truth in those rumors is more than mere seeds. That is what he fears most, and so he tries to keep himself to remote places before the change comes on.
That is how he comes to be in this remote section of would beyond a difficult pass in the mountains. Still, there are other humans who wish to be remote, and so, a massive wolf with sandy hair, he's gorging himself on a stray sheep he plucked from a passing flock when the first stirring of something strange strikes him. Even as a wolf, he recognizes the heralds of the transformation back. It is painful, and vulnerable. He whines, not wanting to relinquish his meal, but another strum of it, harder and stronger than ought to happen, and he's barreling off to find some protected hollow to hide in.
Except the change comes too fast, and utterly uneven. Lupine whines and snarls turn to the groans of a man, and when Olivine finds him, he's shaking and naked, his shape mostly human, but his hind legs still wolven, his ears and tail still pointedly wear, and thick fur covering his legs. Scars cover his skin, and sweat breaks over his body. ]
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Tfln overflow: captcha's dead edition
Of course I would. I had quite a lot of fun in your company.
[not seen is the temptation to ask "do i want you to return to your own space?" And the amused smile therein. Sometimes one must simply be a bit more blunt with a partner.]
Re: Tfln overflow: captcha's dead edition
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