[RP] Final Fantasy X: Felonies of the Past

Status
Not open for further replies.

Amizon

Too orsm for you.
Veteran
Joined
Jul 5, 2006
Messages
8,843
Location
Orsmness.
Gil
0
The silence in the Chamber of the Fayth was deadly. It seeped through to the Cloister of Trials and all the way to the main temple. Silence was a heavily underestimated power. It was chilling for the guardians waiting in the Chamber, just outside of where the summoner was praying to the fayth. It had been three days now since he had entered. There were mixed feelings of worry and impatience amongst many others in the air.

The senior guardian, Xenia Astragal, was leant against the wall in quiet. Her mind was fighting to be right here in this moment, but it was often being distracted and she found herself elsewhere. A repressed memory had been replaying ever since Arthur had gone inside the Chamber. It was evidently clear that the toxin was still up to its old tricks, but the memories were being ever so complicated as per usual.

It was getting too warm in here.

Why, oh why, was she getting involved in another pilgrimage? Any guardian didn't know about what happened in Zanarkand. Perhaps she was the only one that knew. It was a very high possibility, especially since there were hardly any legendary guardians that were alive.

She fought that awful temptation to break into the Chamber. Three days was too long of a time to wait for Arthur to emerge. The others were probably disgruntled at the same time, too. Although alas, this was part of their commitment as guardians when they took the oath. Another oath, another pilgrimage, another summoner, another pointless quest to defeat the seemingly indestructible entity that was Sin ...

"Someone say something," Xenia imminently blurted out. "Someone say something because I am going out of my mind and I can't take the silence for a second longer." Her tone was cold, but civilised enough.
 
She was a long way from home. The seas had not been kind during the voyage, lashing the tiny craft with waves easily large enough to swallow them and, it had seemed at the time, the entire world, whole, drowning it in inky blackness. It was nothing short of a miracle that they had reached Besaid, and now the storm unleashed it’s fury upon the small stretch of land, lashing out in its rage at having lost the opportunity to drown them. It struck her repeated hammer blows to the chest, eager to fling her back into the churning ocean, to consume her.

Selene shivered, and a hand settled on her shoulder, its warmth seeping through her body. Words, faint and buzzing, from the owner of the hand, who was just beyond her line of sight. She replied, her own words lost in the howl of the storm…was it indeed the storm? It had grown peculiarly quiet, all of a sudden. As though they stood in its eye, yet still felt its effects…that could not be possible.

A flash of lightning, and she stood now before a temple, the doors a gaping maw more terrifying than Sin itself, opening wide to admit her. Every fibre in her body screamed against entry. Yet the hand on her shoulder, appallingly warm this time, a constant pressure, would brook no argument. A small, gentle pressure, and she was propelled forward, into the gaping, dark mouth…

Selene opened her eyes. She stood, alone, at the top of a small cliff on the outskirts of the village, staring aimlessly out to sea. The Sun was a blazing yellow ball in a clear, blue sky, and the sea was calm and gentle, at peace. There was no storm and, it appeared, there at not been a storm here for weeks. Where had this unbidden image come from? And whose was the hand, warm and terrifying, guiding her ever onwards? Selene glanced over her shoulder, hoping to see the mysterious man’s presence even now, yet saw nothing, other than the worn dusty path that led to the village and a few trees. So unlike those trees at home, back in Guadosalam. These trees were young, more alive. They cared nothing for the souls of the fallen. Selene envied them their indifference; as a Summoner (for she remembered that much, at least) it was her job to guide souls, and it was a task that it felt as though she had been carrying out for years, not just a few short months. She was barely begun with her pilgrimage, and already she was worn out. What would her companions say?

Where were her companions, for that matter? Why weren’t they here? Had they abandoned her?

Besaid…it was an enigmatic, yet beautiful, place. It stirred memories in her that were indistinguishable from reality, leaving her wondering if she in truth walked a dream world, and that she had somehow left reality behind on that storm-wracked island. This could not be real. It did not look real, did not feel real. I do not belong here. Instinctively, she recognised this, and yet pushed the truth away: if she did not belong here, where else could she belong?

She turned away from the cliff edge, following the path, down to Besaid Village. It was time to find out.

--

Children laughing and screaming, women engaged in gossip, men asserting their dominance over the others by playing Blitzball games. Everywhere you looked, people were busy doing absolutely nothing. Trull had almost forgotten what human life was like. The Guado were a reserved, stuck-up people who cared little for each other and even less for other races, the Ronso viewed excessive talking as expedient and a full conversation as a yearly event, the Al-Bhed were more concerned with their machines than they were anything else, and the Hypello travelled alone. It seemed that humans did nothing but talk; it was something that they had to do, as though if they stopped, they would never again be able to speak. It was a painful, grim reminder why he had not spent too much time with humans in his travels. The noise.

The smells – fresh and slowly rotting fish, beaten leather, dust mixed with sweat and, once, he could have sworn he caught the scent of the Farplane on the wind. It was impossible to tell, though. Humans must have very poor functioning noses – a Ronso would probably suffocate here from the noxious odours. As it was, Trull kept his robe down up and covering the lower half of his face, eliciting stares from curious children and their paranoid parents. It was doubtful that any of them had seen a Guado before, and he stood at almost half a foot taller than everyone else. Prominent veins, elongated limbs, a spear strapped to his back when all other warriors carried swords, Ronso armour glittering in the sunlight; Trull was a very strange figure indeed, and to these people he must look all the stranger. Although he was used to being stared at wherever he went, so it mattered little. People would get over it eventually. Some might even draw a picture. It would certainly last longer.

He supposed that the Summoner and his or her other companions would be like these people around him as well – excessively chatty, overly curious, and full to the brim with bad odours - although he found he did not much care. All that mattered was that the Summoner achieved their goal, and Sin was destroyed. A quiet journey would be nice, but it seemed doubtful that would happen. It was not his concern either way – his concern was with the journey. He would not engage in such idle chatter. There was little to tell, in any case. Unlike his brother who, by all accounts, had been a loud and dominant presence in the Summoner’s group, he would silent, a background fixture. It suited his personality far more.

On this somewhat tropical island of Besaid, at least by his standards, Trull found that he missed the mountains more than ever. He was at peace amongst the Ronso, and missed their company. Now especially, he also missed their recalcitrance to conversation. These humans did not seem to understand that companionship defied words. Even the woodlands of Guadosalam would be preferable to this…provided, of course, that he could avoid his parents. They were perhaps worse than Sin itself.

He approached the temple, chose a spot out of the Sun, and settled in to wait for the Summoner’s arrival – assuming, of course, that he or she was not already in the temple. It mattered not either way. He knew that they had not left the island, and they would have to stop at this temple eventually. He was content to wait. Although, privately, he hoped he would not have to wait long. This was a most unpleasant place, and he was eager to get back out to sea.
 
Tyrann took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew a plume of smoke into the air. Three days, huh? He was starting to feel the pressure himself, not that he'd admit it. Not to mention this temple's presence drained him so that he didn't even find time for a shower before falling into bed when he was done.

It was almost ironic. The temple, a place of Yevon, was supposed to be comforting to a Yevonite such as himself, but he couldn't-could never-find this a pleasant place to be. Even though he hadn't been in for that long yet today, he could already feel himself growing tired. Though that might have been boredom.

Stubbing out his cigarette on the wall and casting the tobacco wrapped paper into one of the permanently lit torches acting as a threshold to the step towards the Chamber of the Fayth. A brief stench and a sharp crackle could be heard, before Tyrann leaned against the wall again, sliding down to a sitting position while dangling his legs over the rails of the stairs.

Xenia, a supposed legendary guardian, seemed to be losing her cool, something which only served to make Tyrann ignore her for the most part. When she had her usual cold exterior up, he could tolerate her at least. When she got all demanding and jumpy like this, he had no time for her.


"Someone say something. Someone say something because I am going out of my mind and I can't take the silence for a second longer."

"Just calm down," Tyrann murmured to himself. "I doubt you getting all panicked like this is gonna do anything." He didn't even look at her as he said this, glancing up at the ancient Chamber of the Fayth entrance, sealed to them. Cutting off any contact with the summoner within.

For now.
 
Three days. Three days the Guardians have waited for Arthur to emerge. Chalk it up to inexperience, but Mattieu couldn’t help but worry. He has never been involved with a Pilgrimage before, nor knew anything about one. Why his mentor at Besaid even threw him in to go with the Summoner was beyond him. He couldn’t heal – he could only cast protection spells, and even those were sub-par at the moment. If he was going to be of any use to Arthur, he would need to study, practice, and meditate. Otherwise, he would just be a burden.

Being a burden was something he definitely did not want to be again. He was getting tired of people treating him like a burden. Then again, he couldn’t (or rather, wouldn’t) do anything about that since they were right half the time. Quiet as a fox, he sat in the corner of the Chamber of the Fayth, tapping his staff gently on the wall. He had nothing to say to either of the other Guardians – he hardly knew them, they hardly knew him – there was nothing much to say.

Mattieu boiled inside with suppressed worry. Was Arthur okay? What if he wasn’t? What if he was hurt? Would he be able to properly help him if that was the case? So much ran through his mind, that he couldn’t be bothered to notice the others in the room.

"Someone say something. Someone say something because I am going out of my mind and I can't take the silence for a second longer."
Xenia announced. She was losing her cool. Her cold demeanor, from what Mattieu has gathered in the short time he has been around her, really prevented anyone from seeing her actual emotions. It kept Mattieu from interacting with her, at least. Despite it being from, possibly, waiting three days, it was still an invitation to talk.

“Do you think Arthur is all right? I…I hope he isn’t hurt. I don’t know what I’d be able to do if that were to happen…”
 
[FONT=&quot]“That will be 700 Gil, please…”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Uhh, just a moment,”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]She fumbled clumsily through her numerous pockets on her jacket, her hands hastily delving into each compartment frantic to locate where she had stored her money. Earlier on in Luca she had procured a substantial sum of money by running odd errands in the city’s iconic Blitzball stadium and despite how basic the island’s wares were she sought to supply herself with sundries for the imminent journey ahead. As Celviev continued to fumble her pockets for her money, the merchant remained cowered in the shade by the tent, his demeanour of impatience and by the sheer heat of the afternoon, fatigue had already stricken him.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Here you go!” she handed over the sum of money required and exchanged it with several bottles of Potions, Hi-Potions and Soft. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]The heat was certainly intense for any non-indigenous individual seeking to visit the [/FONT][FONT=&quot]island[/FONT][FONT=&quot] of [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Besaid[/FONT][FONT=&quot] and it seemed clear that on this clear afternoon even the island’s inhabitants were feeling the often unbearable pain of the restless sun gaze upon them. Besaid’s temperature was surely intense during this time of the day, though Celviev was able to effortlessly endure the heat being of course, a girl of desert lineage from Bikanel; its heat far more intense than Besaid could ever muster. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]This was certainly to be an interesting journey of even greater discovery, she thought to herself as she proceeded to return to the confines of the temple. Since her departure from the sandy shores of Bikanel, she aspired to embark upon a journey throughout Spira to learn more of the world and to satiate her vast desire for knowledge that had occupied her mind since the early days of her childhood. Perhaps, she thought to herself, by accompanying a summoner on a pilgrimage to the very ends of the world could she properly attain full knowledge of the world, its lore and history. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]As she approached the entrance to the temple itself, Celviev momentarily gazed at the priests circling the entrance, their suspicious eyes fixated upon her as she approached, their eyes doing little to cover up what may have been a distinct show of disdain towards her presence. It wasn’t all bad, she thought to herself, the Yevonite priests’ reaction towards her presence the very first time she approached the temple was no more welcoming; they certainly were a lot more hostile towards her presence, even demanding her leave. Perhaps she needed not have been so taken aback at the time as she had been warned countless times in the past – the Al Bhed were considered heathens to many of Yevon’s ranks and files. She was no different, her bright yellow-blonde hair and her swirled emerald eyes immediately unveiling her ethnicity. Perhaps they themselves were heavily taken aback by the very thought of a so-called “heathen” daring to tread the holy steps of a [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Temple[/FONT][FONT=&quot] of [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Yevon[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. It was however, a summoner in training who diffused the situation on that earlier day, assuring the priests at the door that this Al Bhed girl was only an itinerant traveller and therefore unlikely to exhibit any threat towards the temple. The summoner was certainly oddly benevolent to her and this piqued Celviev’s curiosity substantially. The summoner, Arthur as he was called, was certainly young, barely an adult. His demeanour was certainly something of great interest to Celviev, for he seemed a particularly optimistic person who winked at her following his interception at the temple doors. Celviev certainly never expected a summoner to be so young and was perplexed as to how Arthur’s personality could be adaptable to the serious and at times punishing role of a summoner. Celviev was certainly worried however; Arthur had entered the Chamber of the Faith a few days ago and had still failed to emerge from its confines. Several guardians were already within, dedicatedly waiting for the emergence of the summoner. Celviev herself was approved as a guardian, though through a very hasty process that perhaps invited some incredulous suspicions from her new peers. It had been her physical prowess in the field of battle against fiends in the falls outside the village that convinced the young man to accept her.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The dazzling radiance of the brilliant sun vanished almost instantaneously as she entered the darkness of the chamber, her pupils slowly reacting to the sudden change in surroundings. Flames in torches hung on walls and on altars, dully illuminating the large chamber in a deep orange, glow. Statues, proud and marvellous stood, their carved faces depicting those of triumphant men; men who had braved their lives to vanquish Sin and restore peace – if only temporary – to Spira. Her mind cast to the thought of Arthur. Could such a young man manage a feat that men so revered and courageous such as those immortalised in stone right before her achieved? Indeed, it was an incredulous thought, and the thought of playing a part in history should he succeed would be an exciting adventure for her. Bypassing the statues after a hasty bow to each of them, she ascended the stairs to the Cloister of Trials. It was clear by the almost-deathly silence within that the summoner has still not emerged from the Chamber of the Faith. How, she thought to herself, could a person so young as he endure days in there, doing whatever it was that summoners in training were required to do? [/FONT]
 
Ariella walked down Kilika forest after praying at the temple deep in the forest. It was a long day of service to the people of Kilika and Ariella was getting tired. Her home was close to the island itself, and it was of a fortunate place in the event of the occasional weather anomalies that pass through the island.

She saw children playing with Blitzballs while walking down the pier. It felt like yesterday when she was playful, innocent and carefree. Ariella felt a little jealous, wishing she had a carefree life like that. Yet, she was burdened by the guilt of her past and she had no one to talk to.

It was as if she felt alone in her own mind, the past decisions she made would haunt her, but for now Ariella wished to pay no mind to it.
 
Tyrann glanced at Mattieu, opening his eyes. He had appeared to be almost sleeping before now, but the kid's concern had sparked his interest even as it pissed him off.

"I'm sure he's fine."He waved a hand dismissively before taking another cigarette out of the box in his pocket and sticking it in his mouth.

"The thing you have to recognize, kid," he began, his voice muffled by the cigarette between his lips. "Is that how long the apprentice stays in there-" he lit up the cigarette and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as a brief flood of bliss washed over him- "is different for every one. The fayth will sustain him. It won't let him die."

Taking out the cylinder, he exhaled another plume of smoke, watching it drift into the distance, neither evaporated nor fragmented thanks to the lack of wind in this place. Yep. He had said the D word. The one the others probably didn't want to think about.

Looking at Mattieu with a slightly irritated look on his face, he finished. "So just shut up and do your job, kid. It'll make your life easier. And the rest of our lives too." And with that, he returned to staring at the door his charge was waiting behind.
 
"Panicking? You clearly forget I'm the only guardian here who's ever been on a pilgrimage before," Xenia snapped coldly at Tyrann.

She removed herself from the comfortable position she was in against the wall and looked towards Mattieu. He was so young and vulnerable. Neither of them knew the truth. Once they would, it would devastate their optimistic views of this world. But even so, hardly any emotion could flow out of Xenia. A series of events had caused that, some that she had refused to disclose to anyone since arriving on Besaid Island in a bloodied state two years ago.

Her mind cast back to Arthur, however, to put that memory in the back of her mind.

Something wasn't right.

Tyrann had a point that all apprentice summoners were different, she would give him that. But he was wrong about the fayth sustaining them. During her first pilgrimage, she had been at the sending of an apprentice summoner that had failed. Xenia remembered the summoner she had been guarding sending that very apprentice. It had been a sad occasion, one that had contributed to the tough hard shell she now bore.

Even so, her dedication and devotion to Arthur was unwavering.

Since he saved her life two years ago, she had been determined to help him in any way she could. She owed him her life. Taking up her sword again on a pilgrimage would do exactly that.

"But Tyrann is right, Mattieu," she spoke up moments later. "Arthur will be fine. He's strong and I'm sure that it's difficult in there. Once he gets out, we leave the next morning. I hope you're prepared to say your goodbyes."
 

Just outside the door to the chamber, sitting, back against the wall, there sat Alister, with a knee up. One of the guardians of Arthur, whom has been in the chamber for 3 days now. This was normal, since Summoners had to stay in the chamber until they could gain the assistance of the Fayth. Alister contemplated the thought of leaving the chamber and visiting his home and parents, but it wouldn't be the sort of thing a Guardian would do.

From what he's hearing inside the chamber, the other Guardians must be feeling what it was like to be a Guardian. Alister himself feels that he can't keep with the demand on waiting for a young Summoner like Arthur. Especially one at the age of 17. Alister didn't think that the Summoners could get any younger, be it seems he was wrong.

"Anytime now" he whispered under his breath, feeling impatient as the time goes on. He doesn't even know what time of day it was. It could have been midnight for all they knew. Once the Summoner has the Fayth's trust, he was thinking of having his mother cook a feast for all the guardians and the summoner, though, he didn't know if the Summoner was allowed to dine in someone else's home.

He decided to enter the outer chamber, where everyone else was waiting at and judging from the looks on their faces, they weren't anymore happy as he was. And that's strange, because Alister is always the happy and cheery one.

"Hey, cmon guys...Just a little bit longer, we can make it" He said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.
 
Selene meandered through the village, keeping her hood up, hunching over. She had no desire to attract any unwarranted attention. The only way to avoid persecution would be to reveal her identity as a Summoner, and people's reverence was always so...forced. Insincere. They did not believe in her, did not trust her. Not like her companions had...before they had abandoned her. It seemed she was meant to be alone, so why fight it? It would be better, perhaps, if she was just another stranger.

She came, at last, to Besaid temple. Despite the heat, she shivered. It did not look particularly ominous in daylight, yet there was still a forbidding aspect to it that made her desire nothing more than to turn around and leave. Be it her own imagination or a gut feeling, she did NOT want to go back in there and, once again, that nagging feeling of not belonging invaded her thoughts. She was not wanted within. She should leave.

Leave. Now.

She shook her head in some effort to clear it, and walked through the doors without a second thought, before she lost her nerve again. Standing outside the temple would not yield her any answers, and she had travelled a great distance to get here. It would be foolish not to go in. Perhaps she would find answers. If not, she would have at least conquered her irrational fear of the place. Although, considering the Fayth dwelled within in the innermost chamber, perhaps it was not so irrational...but then, what did a Summoner have to fear from the Fayth?

---

Trull watched the woman go into the temple, swaying as though intoxicated, waited for thirty heartbeats, then followed her in. Unsent. He had hoped he was mistaken about the scent of the Farplane, but it appeared that he was not. Unless there were any Guado inside that temple - something he doubted, given how isolated his race were - they would have absolutely no idea what they were dealing with. A fine thing it would be, were he to allow the Summoner to be killed by an Unsent before they had even begun their pilgramage.

Yet he sensed no hostility from her, and her bearing was anything but threatening. She seemed...lost. A lost soul, retracing it's steps in a quest for answers. Such a thing was not entirely unheard of. Yet there was something about the figure that bothered Trull immensely...she seemed somewhat familiar, as though he should know her. Yet, without a clear view of the woman's features, he could not be certain. Her build suggested that she was Guado, but there was something not quite right with that. It didn't quite fit. He robes were unmistakably a Summoner's, and that did not fit either. Could SHE be the Summoner he had travelled here to pledge his services to? Wouldn't that be an ironic little twist of fate? Could an Unsent Summoner even defeat Sin? It seemed unlikely.

Either way, it would be best to proceed with caution, until he could discern precisely who this figure was, and what she was doing here. Charging in with spear swinging was liable to get him killed, especially if he revealed her present condition to the occupants of the temple. A quite approach was needed.
 
Mattieu was a bit taken aback by the response from Tyrann. Taken aback, but also more so shot down into a depressed silence. Mattieu wasn’t the sort to be able to handle people yelling at him or treating him like shit. Things like that usually cause him to retreat into a shell…but then again, a lot of things were going to have to change now that he was a Guardian. He fought off the urge to forsake the world. Tyrann’s comments still made him feel like crap, though. But what good were feelings when you have to put all on the table to protect a Summoner?

He was still getting used to this whole Guardian thing. He was still getting used to the fact his needs were superseded by the needs of the Guardian. He was still getting used to that, at every turn, his abilities were being scrutinized to see if he was still of any use to the Summoner entourage. Mattieu sighed. As long as they didn’t ask him to Cure, everything would be good. An odd request, coming from a White Mage…but, it is a matter better left untouched.

Mattieu realized he was wrong about his companions. Tyrann was the cold bastard of the group who he would probably never get along with. Xenia was just…well, cold, but quiet. And at least didn’t go off on her companions like an ass. Well, so far. Time would only tell.

“Excuse me for being concerned…” Matieu muttered under his breath before returning his attention to the door Arthur would surely be exiting from. Now was not the time to pay attention to belligerent comments made by his fellow Guardians – he had to focus on when Arthur would be exiting.
 
[FONT=&quot]The dimly lit corridors of the Cloister of Trials laid in front of her, her immediate destination was to be the room where the rest of the Guardians were converged in outside the Chamber of the Fayth. Just traversing these corridors was an experience that left Celviev slightly weary with excitement. She recalled her days in Luca her ambition to embark on a pilgrimage with an actual summoner and his or her entourage to experience the delights of the world through her own eyes. Her mentor Sigva was a benevolent man of excellent qualities who told her much of how Spira operated and Luca’s part as the entertainment capital of the world. As much as she appreciated the additional obscure anecdotes that Sigva would often recite to her to pique her interest, Celviev often convinced herself that the true way to discover the world for herself and to experience first hand its lore and qualities would be to traverse Spira herself, although she was weary of the contemplation of travelling alone. It would certainly be ideal, she had thought to herself on those numerous fine days by the docks where she would just gaze out into the ocean of aquamarine before her, absorbing in the beauty; that she could accompany a summoner and learn for herself the burdens and duty of an individual with such a prestigious vocation. She recalled what Sigva had himself warned her one day by those docks.[/FONT]

_____________________

[FONT=&quot]She had been occupied; her eyes constantly gazing upon the seas, the horizon dotted with a series of vessels bound from Besaid and Kilika, two island nations that she yearned to see. Kilika, she had thought to herself, what marvellous fauna it must contain, its forests rich with the verdant green of nature. Besaid, allegedly a land of tropical paradise, its waterfalls an inviting sight among the breezy hills and plains with sands so golden that any homesick Al Bhed could find nostalgia in. She sought to visit Besaid, at the lowest and most southern end of the map and begin her journey there anew and properly. Perhaps it would be an unrealistic feat, she had wondered to herself, but out there must be a summoner bound for a pilgrimage soon. A summoner bereaved with the pain and destruction brought on the land by the hellish presence of Sin. She had sought to befriend a summoner out there and proceed to accompany him or her in a pilgrimage to edges of the globe – Zanarkand. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Sigva himself had approached her, his robes gleaming in the glorious sunlight, his rich blue robes complimentary of the aquamarine seas around them. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“You seek to leave this city I presume?” he gently inquired, standing beside Celviev, his eyes too fixated on the incoming vessels ahead.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“It wouldn’t be too much to ask would it Sigva, if I join a summoner on a pilgrimage to Zanarkand?” she was met with an inquiring stare from Sigva, who quickly turned his attention from the sea to gaze at her.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“A pilgrimage is nothing to be taken lightly,” he said sternly, “it isn’t something that anyone can openly participate in. You must be a committed Guardian and you must serve your summoner with the utmost dedication that can be possibly expected of any valiant warrior.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Guardians protect the summoners with their own lives…” Celviev quietly muttered to herself, her eyes still lost in wandering of the sea, “so that’s how important and seriously they take their jobs, huh?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Be aware my dear,” Sigva continued, his tone calm and inviting, “that being a Guardian is no simple vocation. It demands not only courage and loyalty, but a lot of mental strength. To support a summoner on their journey, you cannot simply be the sword and the shield. You must also be the emotional support, and also you must be prepared to remain emotionally strong despite whatever circumstances. A pilgrimage is often a tragic yet fantastic journey not for the weak-willed and the unprepared. I am concerned – that if you are to attain a place by a summoner’s side – that you are unprepared for the commitment of any pilgrimage for your primary goal is if I am not mistaken, to acquire first-hand greater understanding of Spira, right?”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]She did not immediately respond and could only continue to gaze at the sea, her attention on Sigva yet her eyes completely elsewhere. It was true, she had mainly only thought of herself and her own aspirations for a journey of self-discovery. She needed more if she was to join the ranks of Guardians. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“And one more thing,” Sigva added more ominously, “do not be taken aback if you are ever to be greeted with hostility in the temples. As I am sure you are aware of, the Al Bhed are not exactly treated with the most reverence around the domains of Yevon. Tread cautiously if you are to ever visit the temples.”[/FONT]

______________________

[FONT=&quot]The chamber door opened slowly, the otherwise silent chamber beyond met with echoes of the resonating sound. The Guardians within had been soundless and reserved as they continued to wait for Arthur to emerge from the Chamber of the Faith beyond. They looked up as Celviev entered noisily, the clanking of Potion bottles audible in the deathly silent room around her. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Ah, he still hasn’t come out? I hope he’s alright,” she said, though in a rather awkward manner as it was obviously clear that Arthur had yet to emerge, though she found the uninviting silence to be unbearable. [/FONT]
 
Arthur, the Apprentice Summoner had been within the Chamber of the Fayth for 3 long days. His days however were not filled with praying to the Fayth in an attempt to gain it's Aeon for the purpose of a pilgrimage to combat Sin, instead he simply bided his time, perhaps if he waited long enough he wouldn't have to become a Summoner... Maybe. He didn't like the thought of having the weight of the world on his shoulders, not one bit.

Having seated himself back to wall facing the Fayth he pondered to himself if there was really a way out of this mess, really why did he have to die for everyone else? What made them so special he had to give himself up for a fake peace? Obviously Sin doesn't die, a millennium of attempts proved that.

Letting out a sigh he felt goosebumps rise over his body, he'd been in here for 3 days with no food or water and his body was starting to get weaker, his stomach growling only served to reaffirm this. As he was about to lay down and rest he heard a voice coming from in front of him, but nobody was here but him.

"Rise, Summoner"

Without thinking, he quickly obeyed, shocking considering his lack of food. Getting on his feet and looking directly forward, before him was a woman, transparent and floating in the air, was this the Besaid Island Fayth?

"Well heeeeey good lookin'!"
 
Xenia heard what Mattieu had said under his breath. She was good for focusing her senses on a certain group of people at a time, or perhaps it was just the fact the Chamber was deadly silent. She glanced at Tyrann once more, annoyed with his attitude towards this. What did he know? In fact, what did any of them know? She took out the Virtus out of her blade holder, which was strapped to her waist.

This trusted blade had been her companion for many years and hadn't rusted once. It had seen her through everything: her time at the Crusaders, the pilgrimage, Sin and even her miraculous survival on the shore of Besaid Island. Legendary guardian. Xenia wondered if the fact that she survived Sin and her summoner had died was logic enough for her to have that title.

But words. What did they mean? She just went along with it at the end.

She spun the Virtus around in one hand, the boredom having gotten to her so soon. Three days in this room was nothing compared to the horrors she had faced two years ago. Everyone else was probably bored in here as well. Sure, it was boring, but at least they weren't out there in the face of Sin that could kill them all without blinking.

The boredom backed off momentarily when the door opened and revealed Celviev. She hadn't told anyone, but she knew the young girl was an Al Bhed. It wasn't in her to judge Al Bhed by their use of machina.

"He'll be out very soon, I guarantee you that," she said to Celviev, putting the Virtus away and stroked her left arm. Anyone would've thought that she was injured, however, her ace was up that very sleeve.
 
Tyrann noticed the murmurs of Mattieu and the disapproving glare from Xenia, but it didn't particularly matter to him so long as the summoner survived. Getting him to Zanarkand was his top priority. His relationship with his fellow guardians was a much lesser concern.

Celviev, another guardian immediately identifiable by the sheer amount of noise she made, had entered the Cloister, and seemed to be looking for some reassurance and conversation, similar to Xenia and Mattieu. Why? As if it was going to make the apprentice summoner emerge from the Chamber any quicker.

"We could play I Spy," he said sarcastically.
 
Rubbing his eyes to see if he'd just passed out from hunger or was hallucinating, he found it to have no effect. Stood before him must be none other than the real deal Besaid Fayth... And he liked what he saw.

"Young summoner, your own will has summoned me here but I sense it is not a will to defeat Sin, are you troubled?" Arthur, despite the fact that this would normally be considered a serious point where he had to show the fruits of his training and become a full fledged Summoner, he knew this was his last chance to avoid it. "Troubled? Around you i'm far from that"

The Fayth lacked a response to his comment, instead turning the subject back to his responsibilities "Step forward Summoner, you must accept your duty not to yourself but to all peoples of Spira. What you are undertaking is a selfless task to bring joy and happiness to all of Spira"

To that Arthur quickly turned his head away "And why should I have to die for other people? We both know Sin will just come back, it's not worth throwing my life away for a fake happiness!" The Fayth took a step forward "Is your life truly more valuable than the lives of others? Do you truly place yourself above others? Pride comes before the fall, don't forget that..."

Once the echoes of her voice faded, she slowly dived into Arthur, disappearing within him "Isn't that meant to work in reverse? Weirdest encounter with a woman to date... Well, there's one step to my impending doom, may as well face the music"

Stretching his arms he walked to the entrance, once the door rose fully he walked outside "well guys, it's over now!" He then took his first step down the stairs, it felt like he was wearing lead boots, the weight almost making him fall down. "Guess this is supposed to be normal..."
 
"I'd rather spend my years of Crusader training all over again," retorted Xenia in response to Tyrann. "You shouldn't crack jokes like that, you know. This is a holy and sacred place. Try saying that to Arthur would he be in our place."

It wasn't like her to be defending Yevon. She despised Yevon and its teachings, but kept this secret from the rest of them. Since the truth of the sacrifice was revealed in Zanarkand, Xenia had been a different woman. She never smiled and she would only talk when necessary. It was hard for anyone to get her to open up about herself. Not that she'd do that, of course.

And then the doors of the Chamber swung open.

Xenia was by his side in seconds. She ran up the stairs and grabbed hold of his shoulders to stop him falling. It was her duty as a guardian to make sure he wouldn't be harmed.

"You'll feel strange at first, but you'll get used to it," she told him. "You're still you at the end of the day. Now ... can you walk?"
 
"Honestly, is it too much to ask for them to put banisters on here or something?" his attention wasn't long spent on his compaints of the stairs when Xenia caught him in mid-fall.

"You'll feel strange at first, but you'll get used to it,"

His attention wasn't long spent on her face, slowly trailing his eyes downward "well there's something i'll certainly be getting used to..." with her holding his shoulders he managed to bring himself to his feet, after a momentary wobble he managed to straighten himself up and walk down. Giving Xenia a slapful slap on the backside as he walked by "two lovely ladies in one day, I could see myself enjoying this pilgrimage!" before he could face Xenia's wrath however, he gained newfound energy and dashed out of the Chamber of the Fayth.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top