[RP] Final Fantasy X: Felonies of the Past

Amizon

Amizon

Too orsm for you.
Veteran
Joined
Jul 5, 2006
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Orsmness.
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The silence was deathly outside the Chamber of the Fayth.

Xenia Astragal, the senior guardian – not to mention she was practically a living legend – amongst the small group waiting for Tyrann to emerge from the room in front of them, was almost on the edge. It had been three days now since the summoner had walked through the door and they had to watch it close. It worried her a great deal, considering she was indebted to Tyrann from when he saved her life a few years ago.

No one here knew of that occasion – and she was ever so grateful for that.

In fact, they probably didn't know a lot about her. Xenia wasn't one to talk about herself so much. She was the cold, but civil type. Not a commander, but a survivor. Her experiences had toughened her up to be the young, independent woman who was wise beyond her years.

She glanced at her company, examining their faces one by one swiftly.

"I suppose Tyrann was always the kind to keep us waiting," she said to no one in particular. On the other hand, Xenia herself was the impatient type.
 
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.

---

The silence was wonderful. Were it not for the lack of breeze, the air cloyed with particles of dust that danced in the half-light, Trull would almost feel at home here. Yet the temple of Besaid lacked the raw beauty of the mountains, or the tranquillity of the forests…it lacked even the primal fury of the desert. It was a construct of man, and as a result there was an artificial, forced element to it, as though it were attempting to capture something far beyond its ability to comprehend. Which, ironically, it was. Such was the way of man in Spira – he ever built his constructs upon the backs of others. Still, for whatever reason, it was here that the Fayth chose to channel their essence, so that summoners might communicate with them and acquire strength, so it was here that Trull found himself, in the company of people he did not know and did not care to know. It was inevitable that the summoner would attract other companions; it was just unfortunate that there were so many of them…all (likely) prone to excessive noise that they called “conversation” as though such a thing justified their pointless babble. Once again, Trull found himself as the outcast…although, truth be told, it would be a role he would have adopted by choice.

He met Xenia’s stare with indifference, studying her for a moment after her gaze shifted away from him, then returned his attention to the ceiling, dismissing her rather pointless observation, made solely to break the silence. She would learn patience before this journey’s end…perhaps. After all, if one did not learn patience the first time around, it was likely that they would never learn it. Alas. Conversation was an unfortunate side-effect when one consorted with humans…there were many others, but this was the most tiresome of them all. No doubt there would be several other, equally foolish statements before the journey was over.

---

He was alone. Ever alone, trapped within his own mind, only his own thoughts for company. He had closed his eyes to the world long ago, for what he saw blinded him. Such pain, sorrow…fear. Yet there was…something. A presence, a single spark in the blackness, driving him ever onward. Not the force that controlled his body, and left him little but a caged soul, but…another. Something…pure. Yet tinged with its own sadness, its own taint.

The taint of death.

Even within such purity, there was death. Or perhaps it was the purest source of death of all. It was impossible to tell.

He did not know why such a presence would be of note to him; he had long forgotten what it was to live. Yet he knew, instinctively, that this was why he existed. To find this presence. To seek it out. To…to what? Running it through his mind, it seemed ridiculous. What possible reason could he have for harbouring such…hope? The world was rotten. Twisted, corrupt, beyond all hope of salvation. It needs to be cleansed—no, those were not his thoughts. Those belonged to the other. The other who whispered to him when his own whispers dwindled, when exhaustion took his fragmented soul, when insanity opened its doors and beckoned him come inside, never to return. He would not allow such thoughts. Yet…perhaps, those thoughts were the key to controlling this creature.

A nudge was, surprisingly, all it took. The suggestion of further destruction, a whisper, spoken aloud to that void that occupied his mind, keeping him within his cage. The promise of death. It was enough to persuade it, this creature of violence...what kind of monster had he become, to be driven by such thoughts? Yet, was it truly he who was driven by such thoughts? Perhaps he was trapped within another’s body, a single spark of reason in a being of chaos.

Either way, it didn’t matter. The brighter that spark became, the stronger his influence became. Perhaps, when the light blinded him, he would begin to see anew, and existence would begin to have a new meaning. Perhaps then, the chaos would be driven away. Perhaps then he would discover meaning, or perhaps then meaning would end. Perhaps. It mattered little – like the being that imprisoned him, he had become a creature of need, possessed of a single desire.

Answers.

---

A long, bellowing groan, scattering gulls foolish enough to drift too close, the sloshing of water, and Sin dived, its aimless meandering becoming a straight course. Straight for Besaid Island. It was time for the world to once again know fear. Time again for destruction to come...and what better place to start than the birthplace of summoners?
 

Leaning against a pillar, Alister was kind of asleep as it seemed to be, since his eyes were closed. But a slight humming could be heard from him, he was humming the Hymn Of the Fayth softly. The air was silent and at times eerie. Anyone barely talked inside the outer chamber. He quickly glanced at the others before replying to Xenia -"we just need to be patient just a little more" he said, with a cheerful smile. Alister was quite often the cheery one, no matter what the situation. Put him in a cage being lowered into a well of sharks and he'll find it thrilling instead of frightful.

After answering Xenia, he quietly leaned his head down, closed his eyes, and crossed him arms. He and the others have been there for three days now, and not one sign of the summoner coming out anytime soon, for that matter, the only sign would be if the doors opened. Alister wasn't the type of person would could stand to wait. But, he kept silent and waited like everyone else, he wasn't gonna make a fool of himself there and then.

Just then, the Katana he set to his side leaning against the pillar fell over and made a loud thud that broke the silence for a brief moment. He picked it up and inserted it to the sheathe on his back.
 
It was like he was floating in blue matter, though not quite water. It was too still and dead to be water. He felt his limbs and eyes droop with exhaustion, but he couldn't drop. Some force kept him up, much to his chagrin. His mind, after three days, no longer had the clarity to muster up resolve.

"Wake up."

"Ugh." Tyrann raised his head to look at the source of the voice. His arms were spread, legs together, and he had the feeling that he was hanging. A position of crucifixion, huh? Ironic considering he was a servant of Yevon within a place of Yevon.

The woman, short and slender with the darkened skin some island people had, a coy smile on her face. She was dressed...sparingly, only enough to cover up the bare minimum really. Odd, it felt colder to Tyrann here. That was his first thought, but then he remembered that this place didn't follow the same rules as in his world.

This world...He hadn't liked the Chamber of the Fayth much more, but at least it had seemed earthly. Seemed real. He didn't feel like he should be in this place, crucified and hung for this woman to stare flagrantly at.

"Are you here for me?" she asked, tilting her head to one side so that her dark dreadlocks draped over her cheeks and hung like shabby curtains over her shoulders, covered by an odd emerald material. She smiled, and Tyrann couldn't help but feel that the smile was false, fake, a lie. But it wasn't a summoner's job to question, was it?

He looked down, away from the woman, as the blue changed to black, dotted with stars, no clouds or moon visible in this new illusion. He didn't even register this new place. His eyebrows were furrowed in annoyance; possibly even pure anger, and his lips were parted slightly, revealing teeth gritted together in irritation.

Finally he looked up, eyes and lips back to a neutral expression, and he spoke at the woman from where he hung. "Yeah. I'm the summoner. What of it?"
 
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OOC: Been meaning to post earlier, but thank God I can now. Uni and assignments have been such bitches to me lately. >_>

IC: Despite what Alister said, Xenia still felt tense. She knew for a fact that a summoner could still die in the Chamber. It was not unheard of; the others just didn't want to admit it may have very well happen to Tyrann. She didn't want to believe that herself, but what hope could she even cling onto nowadays? Perhaps her sword, the Virtus. It had been by her side from the beginning of the last pilgrimage she embarked on. Perhaps it would keep her alive. Keep her sane through this next pointless and meaningless one.

"Patience was never my strongest point," she remarked to Alister.

At least she was honest. It was common for the people of Spira to lie about such things, giving their situation with Sin coming to take everything away at any moment. But she had faced Sin in the eye. Faced it with such courage. And even so, everything did get taken away. Her fellow guardian, her summoner, even her own memories ...

She snapped out of the dreamy phase and realised she couldn't remember it all clearly in her head. Even after two years, the toxin was still messing her head up. For once, Xenia was grateful neither of the guardians knew about that. They'd treat her differently. Heck, the whole of Spira would. Only Tyrann alone knew that secret and they had been inseparable friends since he had saved her life two years ago. As different as they were, she could never let him go unpaid.

Which was why she was here today.

The legendary guardian would take up her sword again. The former Crusader would journey through Spira to assist the summoner and fight alongside his fellow guardians to ensure he was not harmed. Anyone would've felt a large amount of pressure to live up to their status, but Xenia was not. Xenia was different. For the most part of being famous, Xenia did not care.

"He will emerge when the time is right," she said to no one in particular.
 
[FONT=&quot]OOC: Finally. I was long overdue in posting. /revives RP
_________________________

“That will be 700 Gil, please…”
[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][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=&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, snapping at the priests that hasty discrimination towards a young, itinerant traveller was not something he would expect of accomplished Yevonite accolites, no matter what her ethnicity may be. The summoner certainly possessed a sharp tongue, fiercely lashing out at the priests in such a manner and this piqued Celviev’s curiosity substantially. The summoner, Tyrann as he was called, was certainly young, barely an adult. His demeanour was certainly something of great interest to Celviev, for she had never seen anyone sounding so authoritative in such concise words. Celviev certainly never expected a summoner to be so young and wondered to herself whether such a personality was a trait that would be required of all summoners. Perhaps all summoners need to possess that air of authority whenever they open their mouths? Celviev was certainly worried however; Tyrann 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, even if he did not seem entirely enthusiastic about it.

[/FONT][/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 Tyrann. 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]
 
Selene drew her hood up tighter about herself as she walked through the village, seeming to shrink into her robes as children ran in front of her, playing games incomprehensible to all but each other. None of the adults, busy as they were (most with mending fishing nets or preparing food) even so much as glanced her way, which was not surprising – they hadn’t the last time she had been here, after all. The people of Besaid, whilst friendly when approached, preferred to keep to themselves…

…I’ve been here before? Then what am I doing back here now?

Her mind swimming, both from the heat and the sudden burst of pain that always accompanied such sudden revelations – if that was indeed what they were – Selene sighed, the motion turning into a cough as dusty, fetid air assailed her already-taxed lungs. This place definitely was not for the Guado, which might explain why her race rarely left Guadosalam. Other places were simply too…foreign. It did not stir any other memories within her; there were no landmarks, and nothing seemed in the least bit familiar. Yet she knew, instinctively, that there was a temple here. Such a thing was likely common knowledge, and it would only be natural that a Summoner such as herself would know of this, but she couldn’t remember who had told her about it.

In what seemed like no time at all, she stood at the doors to the temple. How had she ended up here? It appeared that her feet knew precisely where to take her, whilst her mind struggled to keep up. Each time Selene attempted to puzzle these things out, she was greeted with an increasingly vicious headache for her troubles, and a sense that she was no closer to the answer she sought. It was frustrating, to say the least, but in there was little she could do, other than allow her feet to take her where they would.

She raised a hand to push the doors open, and then paused, fighting down a sense of dread that had nothing to do with her confusion at her conflicting memories. Something was very, very wrong here…

Eyes, both unseen and unseeing, watching her as she prayed at the altar for strength and guidance. In answer came forth the spirit of a dragon, feathered and scaled both, majestic and yet surreal, as though it could at any moment vanish, dissolving as though it had never been. Eyes of fire fix her in cold regard, cruel iron beak opening, pressure unlike any she had ever known as it spoke, words echoing painfully in her skull:

You do not belong.

Her eyes snapped open. Unaware that she had even closed them, Selene found that she was shaking, her hand still outstretched, poised to open the temple door. Such fury. She could feel it even now, virulent waves of power so strong as to be almost tangible, buffeting at her like those gale force winds of the storm. Directed at her?

She glanced over her shoulder, ever expecting to see the owner of the hand, the warm presence that had ever guided her, yet seeing nothing, other than a group of children in the distance, playing with a makeshift blitzball. It was indeed her, then.

She withdrew her hand for a moment, considering, and then pushed the door open, ignoring the fresh waves of pain that lanced through her skull like knives as the anger of her unseen assailant increased tenfold for a moment, before recoiling in fear and outrage as something, something filled with a sadness so powerful that it brought tears to Selene’s eyes, stinging and hot against her chilled skin, rose up behind her and surged forward, the ringing of chains resounding now in her head as its presence swept over her. For a split second, she imagined she could see a figure in front of her, lithe in the manner of all Guado, and maddeningly familiar. Before she could even blink, however, it was gone, and she was alone, the silence within her head more terrifying than either emotion had been. All was still, and sound rushed into her previously deaf ears, the laughter of the children, the low buzz of conversation, the breaking of the waves upon the shore, the cries of birds that hovered lazily in the sky above.

It gave her strength, gave her hope. If this was a test of the Fayth, then she would overcome it. She would not quail in fury before spirits. She was a Summoner, and she would act like one. She had always been told that she needed to act more like a Summoner, after all. A newfound resolution infusing her very being, Selene walked into the temple.
 
The chamber doors opened at his touch. He wasn't quite sure how he felt. His vision was swimming, his muscles aching, his eyes dry and itchy, his lips chafed and his throat stinging irritatingly. He coughed as the doors parted like a butterfly's wings, sliding into the slots in the wall; mechanisms nobody could control or recreate anymore.

He could see several figures standing below, but his blurring vision prevented him from discerning who was who, which annoyed him more than it worried him.

As he made his way down the scarlet carpeted steps, each step heavier, as though his feet had been pumped full of lead, he felt his feet give under him, and he staggered, stumbling as he tried to regain his balance but failed, bracing himself for a hard impact.
 
It seemed fitting that the time was right at this very moment.

Xenia immediately knew what was coming. Somehow, this felt so familiar to her. Maybe this was deja vu, especially since it probably happened with her first summoner in this very temple. She recognised the symptoms immediately: tiredness, blurriness and the slow, but inevitable path of darkness to unconsciousness. It was like reciting the entire history of Spira from a book.

Instinct kicked in and the legendary guardian found herself running – faster than she could have imagined – towards Tyrann. He was falling fast and just as she reached the top of the stairs, she caught him. His weak, limp body collided with her own and she allowed him to pressure his weight against her own. He was too weak to stand and she understood. She silently nodded, remembering the first difficult trial of a summoner.

It did not bother her whatsoever – Xenia was in his debt. He had once saved her life two years ago and all she could do was repay the favour. The Hymn of the Fayth sent chills down Xenia's spine. She had an unimaginable hatred for Yevon, one that could only be truly understood once someone knew her inside and out. No one did yet, though. Perhaps her companions would once they reached their final destination and learned the truth. The truth alone would turn them into ... her.

"Try not to move too quickly once you regain your strength," she advised Tyrann, as she started to guide him down the stairs. "An old man once told me that you shouldn't rush into the fire if you're covered in ice."

They reached the bottom and she glanced at him once more. She knew he was still clinging onto consciousness, but she couldn't be sure

"Can you stand alone?"
 
“We should depart from this place immediately. The Summoner will regain his strength once he is clear from the Fayth’s influence.”

Trull’s voice was bland, revealing nothing of the contempt that crept its way into his mind as he looked down upon the two of them from where he stood. Such a dramatic little episode. The Summoner would never learn to stand on his own two feet if this overprotective girl continued to coddle him as though he was her own child. She called herself a Legendary Guardian, as though such a title were a thing to be proud of. Truly, this woman was as much of a disappointment as he had expected. She cowered behind the excuse of Sin’s toxin, allowing herself to be portrayed as a heroine, perhaps even believing it herself, yet she – and everyone else – overlooked one crucial detail: her previous Summoner, and her companions – my brother – were all dead, and Sin remained. Now, she would repeat the past with this boy and his other three guardians. Trull would not, could not, allow this to happen.

As he turned away, the doors opened before him, momentarily flooding the chamber with sunlight. The stench of the Farplane saturated the very air around the figure that entered, her lithe form swaying slightly as though drunk. He paused, every muscle in his body tensing in response to this presence, unable to help himself. This woman was Unsent. More – she was an Unsent of incredible power. A summoner. Her power was a blazing, brilliant aura, and the faint rattle of chains accompanied her every step, so faint as to be a figment of the imagination.

He stepped aside mechanically, forced himself to keep his hands at his sides, allowing her to saunter past him. A flash of something – recognition? – appeared in her eyes as they locked stares, and then she was past him, looking around the room, an expression of childlike wonder upon her face. A most peculiar face it was, as well. Guado and Al-Bhed half breed. You certainly didn’t see those around very often. A Guado/Al-Bhed half-breed Summoner. Where had he heard of that before?

…impossible.

Trull drove that particular thought firmly out of his mind. He would not even consider such a possibility. She was nothing more or less than another lost soul. There was no harm in her being here, if she but awaited an audience with the Fayth – although whether or not they would see an Unsent was an interesting question – and there was little point in revealing her condition to the others…it was doubtful she herself was aware of it. She seemed to have no hostile intent – in fact, the only thing out of the ordinary about her asides from her condition was her seeming lack of memory. Which, whilst strange among the Unsent, was not entirely unheard of; it was likely her death, and events leading up to it, had been traumatic, leading to her mind blocking those parts of her life away…either that, or Sin’s infamous toxin was at work again. Which seemed unlikely, for if she had gotten close enough to Sin to suffer from such an influence, why was Sin still in existence?

However, if she even attempted anything untoward, Trull would cut her down before she – or anyone else – could even blink. There were, unfortunately, some things in his heritage that he could not erase, and his unease around the Unsent was one of them. They did not belong on Spira. It was as simple as that. Of course, it was doubtful that a simple warrior could kill a Summoner of such obvious power, but he would certainly attempt to. One thing he knew for certain: she had made herself very vulnerable by coming to see the Fayth. If she died in here, she would remain dead, and no amount of willpower would see her spirit break free from the Fayth’s inexorable grasp. They would swallow her soul like a fly trapped in sap.

--

Selene pushed back her hood as she entered the temple, looking around in wonder before noticing that she had company.

“Oh, my. It certainly is busy here!”

The man in front of her stepped aside respectfully, allowing her to pass, and she looked up at him, smiling her gratitude as she moved past him. A Guado, he would probably be quite handsome if he wasn’t so tense…but then, some Guado were like that. He reminded her of someone…one of her own Guardians, perhaps. Yet he had been taller, more robust in appearance. She could not conjure a picture of him within her mind’s eye – it hurt her to even try – yet she sensed that, even as she thought this, that it was right. Selene wondered if he knew of her, although given that she had spent much of her life in obscurity that would be unlikely.

She ambled up to where the woman cradled the boy, obviously a Summoner, like her. She smiled down at him, suddenly visited with the overwhelming urge to pat him on the head. But then, that probably wouldn’t do: she didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his Guardians. Young men were extremely sensitive about such things, as well.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t feel too good after I’d visited the Fayth for the first time, either. You’ll get used to it the more times you do it…”

…she HAD been here before! She remembered, collapsing in much the same fashion as this boy obviously had, being held by…someone. He had carried her out of the temple, cradling her as he would a child…or a lover. She faltered, glancing back over to the Guado, who stood quietly, arms folded, watching her with such a fierce intent that she almost quailed at his gaze. He was very angry with her, that much was obvious from the way he stood, as though he were going to draw that terrible spear from his back and stab her with it. She considered asking him why he was so angry with her – after all, they’d never met before, had they? – but decided against it. Best not to antagonise the situation…

There had been two others with her, she then realised. One had been…a relative, or a childhood friend? Perhaps she had been the lithe figure that Selene had seen before entering the temple? Odd, how she had just vanished like that, as if she had never even been there in the first place...and the other, she had been a young woman, much like Selene herself.

She locked gazes then with the young woman holding the boy, tilting her head as she studied the woman’s features. Unfamiliar to her, and yet…

“Have we met somewhere before? I don’t suppose you know where I can find my Guardians, do you? I seem to have lost them…or they’ve lost me. It’s odd, they were here with me the first time I came to this temple…perhaps they’re waiting for me at the next one…”
 
[FONT=&quot]The ominous iron doors slowly opened, creaking loudly as it did, as if it were awoken from its slumber. Celviev emerged into the dimly-lit chamber and it was quickly apparent to her that it was certainly crowded; the otherwise stony and sterile chamber now seemed so packed that she immediately found the eagerness to depart back out into the sunlight. Her noisy entrance was not mitigated by the audible clanging of potion bottles and other forms of sundries that she had just previously purchased from the village merchant. What piqued her attention at first was the presence of a young woman, standing near the doors, curiously glancing at Trull now and then – a certain look of wonder adorned on her face. What captured Celviev’s attention the most was her physical appearance. She recognised physical Al-Bhed qualities in her, most notably with her eyes, the vague swirly shape present that was characteristic of all Al-Bhed. Yet at the same time, she did not appear to be a complete Al-Bhed, but more of a curious hybrid. There was no mistaking the long, slender arms that were traits of the Guado race, of which as she acknowledged to herself, Trull by the wall was a fine example of. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The mysterious young woman, having noticed Celviev’s presence quickly turned around and curtly stepped aside to allow her passage into the chamber. Unobstructed, Celviev could now finally notice what had been happening just before her arrival. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Xenia[/FONT][FONT=&quot] stood, the same loyal and determined expression etched on her face as she was clinging onto a young boy at the foot of the stairs to the Chamber of the Faith. The boy seemed to be drifting somewhere between the limbos of full consciousness and unconsciousness. He appeared unable to properly stand on the spot, let alone walk as each step was a prelude to a stumble only broken by [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Xenia[/FONT][FONT=&quot]’s supportive hands. Such care and support for a summoner in such a condition, Celviev pondered to herself, was this what was expected of her as a Guardian? Why was only one Guardian out of the group helping the young man stand? Without much thought, she rushed forward to try and assist, but was stopped by [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Xenia[/FONT][FONT=&quot], who noiselessly gestured to indicate that no assistance was required. Stepping back, she watched as she continued to assist the young summoner towards the chamber doors.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“He’s now…a fully fledged summoner now, right?” Celviev quietly inquired to the gentleman next to her, who she noticed had been quietly humming to himself. The man responded only after a brief delay, informing her that Tyrann was now ready to finally embark on his pilgrimage.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“He’s alright,” Celviev quietly remarked to herself, “Tired by the looks of it, but he’s alright. I thought he would take a long time in there…whatever’s in there.” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]What continued to be an object of such fascination to Celviev was the young summoner’s age. He was still a boy, barely yet a man now with the whole world resting on his shoulders as he now prepared to embark upon this task of quelling Sin. Yet one factor lingered that seemed more than tragic. Like all High Summoners who have sacrificed their lives to bring peace and prosperity to the land, there was a good chance that such a similar fate could befall Tyrann. How short would his life be? How much of the world had he already seen? How many loved ones would he be abandoning? How foolhardy would this entire quest be? She had heard the stories. She had heard of the Calm, the temporary period in between cycles of life and death in which Spira could enjoy life without the destructive burden of Sin. Yet, would all this be worth the sacrifice of brave men and women such as those immortalised in stone within the very temple she was standing in? Celviev was certainly unsure, and she felt her stomach tighten around her as she contemplated the possible fate of this young man. At the same time she held terrific admiration for Tyrann. Any individual – however foolish one may be for choosing to hold his life as a tribute – walking the path of a summoner certainly inspired great admiration in her. How selfless one must be, she thought to herself, to take such a dangerous vocation as well as its destiny, no matter the outcome. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Many steppes, deserts, mystical forests, rivers, roads and knots of sea would have to be traversed before the sarcophagus of Zanarkand’s remains could finally be seen through pilgrims’ eyes. It would certainly be a journey, long and arduous, perhaps with difficult decisions awaiting them on the way and at the end. Until then, I aspire to know more about my companions, particularly the new summoner. I wish to learn more about him – his ways, his dreams, his past, his beliefs…[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]…then maybe I can think about my own life too, what I seek to discover while I’m in the company of others in Spira and what I seek to achieve once I learn as much as I can about the world that had only opened up to her following her departure from the sands of Bikanel. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“Yeah. Let’s get moving. [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Kilika[/FONT][FONT=&quot] Temple[/FONT][FONT=&quot] is our next stop, right?”

However, the focus of the attention in the room had primarily already switched to that of the Al-Bhed-Guado stranger who had wandered in just before.


[/FONT]
 
Instead of the impact of sharp stone that he had expected, there was instead a firm grasp on his shoulders, and much of the weight was taken off his feet as he was led down the steps by Xenia.

Normally he would have come out with something along the lines on "About time," but he was just too tired to muster the snide remark.

Slipping from her grasp and sitting awkwardly on the steps with his head in his hands, he took a few deep breaths, looking up at the various figures gathered around him with blurry vision, taking a few deep breaths before finally speaking.

"Why are you starin'? You'd think someone just died. Did I grow an extra head in there or somethin'?" He mockingly slapped his hands around his neck as he said this.
 
Xenia was by Tyrann's side the whole time. She would not let him fall. No matter what her companions may have thought, she did not want to fail on the debt she owed. She owed Tyrann her life. By protecting his – and possibly even sacrificing her own, although not for the purpose that everyone would discover soon enough in Zanarkand – she could feel ... human again. After surviving Sin, Xenia had began to think of herself as not that. Many had glanced upon her, even during the blitzball tournaments in Luca that she attended, and think of her that way.

Over the many compliments of what a heroine she was for fighting until the very end of her summoner's life, the few questions of individuals made her think otherwise. They didn't know she failed the summoner. She had died eventually, so why had she survived? Why was she not in the Farplane like them now? Surely, if she were an unsent, then she would have sensed it. Felt it. She'd have been cast out of the Temple immediately. She'd be able to access the lost memories.

"Maybe you lost your brain in there," she remarked at Tyrann's sarcasm.

Then she glanced at Celviev.

"We leave tomorrow. Tyrann's too weak to leave and the boat does not leave until then. I'm sure we could all use with the rest."

She helped Tyrann to lean against the wall. His weight against her was heavy, but it was a price she had been willing to pay ever since that day. Trull may have disapproved of her – in fact, Xenia only needed to see the expression of disappointment in his eyes – overprotective nature of their summoner, but the previous failure weighed heavier on her heart. An enormous burden was being placed upon her. When word spread that she would journey with a new summoner, she was afraid of the attention they would receive. Why she was submitting herself to this inevitable pilgrimage, she did not know.

And then everything seemed heavenly to her.

Her body felt so light, even with the sword on her back. Her breathing became slow and hoarse. This was not a familiar sensation. Were the angels in the Chamber looking down upon her? It felt that way. For one moment, it felt like the burden was lifted. She could finally feel like herself again. She may have even smiled, if she could. Her eyes turned upon the newcomer and everything changed.

The overload of pressure piled upon her brain like someone had pushed a house onto her poor, unable body. Now this was a familiar sensation, although this was rare. The angels were no longer here. The devil – Sin – was punishing her. The toxin ... it was weighing hard on her mind. She could just about make out who was standing there.

Memories.

It had to do with the ...

"Vunkeja sa," she murmured.

And then she succumbed to that wonderful darkness. She felt her body fall, but did not bother to fight. She wanted to fall deeper and deeper. It felt too much. Too much to look upon the newcomer, as if she was familiar ...
 
Trull had been watching Xenia closely, and he recognised the signs moments before she lost consciousness. He moved past the newcomer a split second after her legs buckled, catching and lowering her limp form down to the floor. So much for the mighty Legendary Guardian. He looked at the Summoner, who was still sitting on the floor, dazed. Well, from him he could understand it: meeting with the Fayth was, apparently, a rather stressful experience.

“I suggest we leave this place at once and retire to your home, Summoner. Lean on me if you require support until your strength returns to you. I shall see to your other Guardian.”

He knelt down beside Xenia, studying her features, troubled even in unconsciousness. She was a woman with many secrets, all of them hiding behind the poor excuse of Sin’s toxin. Trull had no doubt that it was indeed an excuse, although he did not believe this sudden fainting spell was put-on. No, it had something to do with that Unsent. A connection between the two, perhaps…but then, perhaps not. Perhaps she was just simply vulnerable to the influence of Unsent when they were in close proximity. This one in particular had a very strong will, even though she was possessed of no malice. Trull sighed inwardly as he picked her up – she was surprisingly light – and cradled her as he would a child, balancing her in the crook of one arm with slight difficulty as he extended his other hand down to the Summoner, to help him to his feet.

How bothersome.

--

Seeing the Guado cradling the young woman in his arms, Selene couldn’t help but smile. There was something very familiar about that scene, and it brought her great comfort. As though she could feel someone else’s – whose? – arms around her, cradling her in that exact same fashion. Examining the woman’s features a second time, she could see nothing particularly familiar within them…a passing resemblance, then? Perhaps they didn’t know one another after all…that was a shame. Selene was, above everything else, so very alone. It would have been nice to finally meet someone who knew her intimately, and might be able to fill in those missing gaps in her memory.

“Is she alright?” Selene asked, her voice sounding strange to her ears. She could not help but feel partially responsible for the woman’s condition, but that was absurd – how could she have caused something like this?

“She will regain consciousness in time.” The man replied, fixing her again with his fierce, icy stare. Selene met his gaze and held it, determined not to let him see her fear. She had done nothing wrong, and she was used to such stares, given her origins. As soon as you leave. He didn't say it, but he was implying as much.

“I’m glad. Well then, I’m going to go and see the Fayth now…perhaps they’ll have some answers for me. Good luck on your journey, Summoner.” She smiled at the young man on the floor, and then sauntered up the steps, the door opening before she had even touched it, as though it were…recoiling. Now, wasn’t that strange? What brought that image to her mind?

Selene entered the innermost chamber without a backwards glance, the small group already out of her mind; the Summoner, the strangely familiar young woman, the Guado man and his steely gaze, and the young Al-Bhed girl. The door slammed itself behind her with ominous finality, although it sounded as little more than a distant echo to her; just another door closing. Yet as one door closes, another one opens…
 
[FONT=&quot]A mix of alarm and fascination in her head, Celviev hastily approached the unconscious figure of [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Xenia[/FONT][FONT=&quot], but the long hand of the Guado quickly halted her advancement and he gestured, indicating that he needed no assistance. This man impressively lifted [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Xenia[/FONT][FONT=&quot] effortlessly, a feat that certainly astounded her. Then there came movement in the chamber. They were starting to converge towards the exit, starting to exit this eerie, claustrophobic chamber at last. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“But…is she alright? What happened?” Celviev anxiously inquired, but realised as she remained stationery standing on the same spot that her companions were already slowly shuffling towards the doorway with the katana-armed Alister at the rear. Celviev gazed inquisitively at the Al-Bhed-Guado stranger. Her fervent glances at [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Xenia[/FONT][FONT=&quot] were noticeable, but she was too distracted by her rare breed of radiance and elegance that she had never yet seen before. There was something strangely unholy about this woman. Celviev had heard about the traditional animosity between the conventionally Yevonite-leaning Guados in Spira whereas the Al Bhed remained a race incessantly defiant towards the Bevelle theocratic administration. To be an unholy hybrid of the two races, surely this poor woman must have faced intense divisiveness and even hatred in the past by others and her own kind? Still, her grace seemed to indicate nothing of this, or was this just a public façade to hide her anguish?[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Celviev eventually approached the exit herself, noticing the stranger approach the Chamber of the Faith alone. A summoner, she thought to herself? Why was she alone with no companions at her side at this moment in time? Why would any summoner would wish to confront the trials of this vocation alone or was she just overanalysing things? Regardless, she quit the chamber with her companions, eager to sample the inviting daylight that would await her outside the temple. As expected of her kind, Celviev could not bring herself to revere the temples as others unmistakeably could. The confined spaces, the gloomy darkness, the sombre hymns, the almost-hauntingly imposing statues – it felt more like a prison to her than anything else. If she was required to remain within temples for considerable lengths of time during this pilgrimage, the very prospect forced her heart to sink. Nevertheless, her quest for discovery and knowledge was never going to be a lax vacation anyway. She was not about to let her distaste for confined spaces and sombre temples to let her abandon her journey and her duty to protect the young summoner who as she noticed, had a look of exhaustion on his face so intense it could be compared to the expression of laboured men in the harshness of the Bikanel Desert. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The flash of sunlight greeted her, its warmness bathing on her the moment the party left the confines of the temple. Near her were several children and their [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Labrador[/FONT][FONT=&quot], wildly playing around like there were no worries in the world and daily temple-goers slid past with mercenaries idly fanning themselves by their wares. The slowness of life here, the serene tranquillity and the never-ending sun – this island seemed miles away from the toil and labour seen in Bikanel and the sheer tension and horror felt in the rest of the Spira at the thought of Sin. Alas, this would be the last day she would spend on his secluded little paradise. By the morn she would be departing with her newfound companions in earnest to begin the pilgrimage. There seemed like nothing to do now but earn some rest while the weak Tyrann and unconscious Xenia rest up for the exerting day that was about to greet them. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Bowing politely to her companions announcing them of her decision to rest up for the entirety of what was left of the day, Celviev made way for one of the tents in the village, seeking refuge from the biting heat and the mosquitoes that were ferociously darting around in the air. She had hastily wished Tyrann and [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Xenia[/FONT][FONT=&quot] well and personally congratulated Tyrann on his success in gaining the accolade of summoner while several villagers converged towards him, understandably thrilled by his achievement after several long, laborious days.[/FONT]
 
"Hilarious, ain't ya?" Tyrann pushed his hands down on the stone of the temple floor to push himself to his feet, then his eyes widened briefly in alarm as Xenia slumped, before he tried to disguise it behind a mask of indifference again.

"W-what's wrong with her? She wasn't in the fuckin' thing for three days." His eyes softened somewhat as he said this, and he stood up, wiping a trickle of his own blood off his nose. "Well, I guess we better get her to a bed, huh?"
 
"Indeed." Trull turned away, still cradling Xenia in his arms, and led the way out of the temple, saying nothing more.

The moment they left the temple, he felt Xenia stir; a change in her breathing being the only signal of her changed state, but sufficient for Trull to notice it. Now, she was simply sleeping. This only confirmed his suspicions that it had been close proximity with the Unsent Summoner that had caused this impromptu blackout.

He decided that he would say nothing of this to the others. He doubted even Xenia or the Unsent were aware of the situation, and revealing it would only complicate matters. Matters were already sufficiently complicated, and the dangers facing them were many. There was no reason to add yet another threat to the ever-growing list, when it was unlikely that the woman would ever emerge from the temple. The Fayth would likely consume her spirit, and that would be that.

Carrying her to the small hut they had stayed in for the past week, Trull set Xenia down on her bed, watching her closely for a few moments before turning away, leaving her to her rest. When she awoke, she would likely assume that the exhaustion of standing and awaiting the Summoner for three days would be the cause of her exhaustion, and this would be accepted by the others. It was just as well.

"I respectfully suggest that we leave Besaid as soon as you are sufficiently recovered, Summoner." Trull spared the boy a glance as he moved past him, out of the tent and back into the glaring sunlight. He had no desire to babysit the Summoner, or his guardian. No, he would follow the trail out of the settlement, for some clean air and solitude. Trull did not enjoy being around humans although, unlike his brethren, it was not because he saw them as beneath him.

No, it is because they are all much too noisy...

--

It did not take long. Kneeling in darkness, Selene was surrounded in moments by flickering lights, almost like the pyreflies that came from monsters, yet...purer, somehow. Too pure. She shied away from their light...there was something wrong with them, something profoundly evil. This was not the Fayth...was it? If it was, why would they attack her? She was a Summoner. This should not be happening!

Something large rose up behind her, and once again she heard the distinct rattling of chains. The lights died out almost immediately, and something new - a figure, a woman - took shape in front of her. Tall and willowy, typical Guado characteristics, with green-tinged ivory skin and eyes the colour of autumn leaves, long, moss-coloured hair streaming out behind her like a shroud.

I know this woman.

The realisation hit Selene immediately, accompanied by fresh waves of pain. Why, why could she not remember anything? She knew this figure was important to her, yet she could not say how, or why. The rattling of chains was like the roar of the sea - or a storm - in her ears, and it was almost as though she could feel their invisible weight, bearing down on her shoulders, slowly crushing her.

"You have already visited this temple once before, Selene." the apparition said, its voice distant and echoing strangely, painfully, in Selene's ears. That, too, was familiar. A kind voice, yet with an undercurrent of disapproval that made Selene inwardly flinch and, at the same time, filled her with an overwhelming desire to please, to remove that disapproval.

"I have? Then why don't I remember..." sharp pain, flaring in Selene's head, followed by...clarity. No, that was a lie. She did remember. She had knelt here for five days, far longer than she should have, and when she finally did emerge from the temple, it had taken her three more days to recover. She and her companions - three of them, a man and two women - had left the island with all haste, the storm being long over.

"Seek out Sin. Only by your hand can it be stopped."

Well, that made no sense. Only by her hand? Surely any Summoner would do? Any who completed their pilgramage would be able to stop Sin with the power of the Final Aeon. That didn't make much sense at all. Selene had only been to this temple, she hadn't finished her pilgramage yet. She could not be strong enough to take on the monster yet. Why would this Fayth spirit say such a thing?

The lights around the figure were growing brighter by the second, and her voice was fading. For some reason, this filled Selene with panic, and a feeling of profound sadness. She didn't want this figure to go. She felt...almost complete, around this apparition. As though she were...whole.

"Continue...y....jour..." her image was flickering now, in and out and in and out of focus, rippling as though she were little more than a reflection on the water's surface. Selene made to reach out for the figure, as though by taking her hand, by giving her some form of physical anchor in herself, she could remain in this world, yet she found herself unable to move, powerless, as the lights swarmed over the figure.

"...sist..."

She vanished, and the lights scattered, plunging the room into a darkness so profound that Selene cried out. She sat, motionless, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, each second feeling as though it were an hour...indeed, perhaps hours did pass by then, instead of mere minutes. Sitting, alone in darkness, it was impossible for Selene to tell.

What had the figure (so familiar...) been trying to tell her? What had stopped her? Selene remembered nothing of the Fayth...was that a typical manifestation? Perhaps she should seek out the other Summoner, the boy who had been here earlier, to ask him of his experience. But then, she thought, they had probably already left by now.

She would simply have to travel to each temple in turn, by herself, to gain her answers. The danger would be great without her companions, but what choice did she have?

...but why was it that she felt that the journey would not be necessary?
 
[Essence]

Trapped in a deep stream of unconsciousness, Xenia dreamed. She had tried to fight the darkness that overwhelmed her, but she was simply too weak. Something had given way inside of her and forced her to relive that horrible day again, the one that she'd rather forget. Xenia remembered that there was a burning, everlasting pain on her stomach. It was condemning her to hell and if it weren't for the hot sunshine and cool water drifting in and out, she would have thought this was a dream.

But Xenia realised this was a memory; one that she could never forget. Tyrann had been there. He happened to be at the beach at the time. He pulled her out of the water onto cool land, brought her back to the village. Saved her life.

"There is nothing you can do. Their fates are sealed and so was mine."

The chilling voice awoke Xenia from her slumber and she jolted upwards with a sudden jerk. Her breathing turned hoarse and quick. When she realised that she was in the hut, she lay backwards and sighed in defeat. Someone must have brought her here. What happened in the Chamber of Fayth was a bit blurry, but she remembered someone. Someone important to her.

Her sword was just lay against the wall, still in its holder.

It had been a while, possibly hours, since she had blacked out. She found the whole thing not to be embarrassing, but worrying. It wasn't the first time it had happened, just the first time it happened in public. The blackouts weren't getting any better. She decided to worry about this in private; the pilgrimage couldn't suffer from her setbacks.

Xenia protectively placed her hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. Regret. There were familiar feelings, but she couldn't quite place them with a particular memory. She rose to her feet and picked up the Virtus.

I have to fight this. Tyrann has to be the damsel, not me.

As she walked out of the hut, she could see that it would soon be nightfall. Being in Besaid kept Xenia from falling apart at times. Well, if she was capable of such a thing. She believed herself to not even be human. It was rare and difficult for her to express emotions. Before she knew it, there were two little boys running around her.

"Lady Xenia! Teach me how to fight!"

"You're the best, Lady Xenia!"

She hid behind a face of wisdom and slowly nodded.

"I will once I return from the pilgrimage," she replied. She was careful when it came to choosing her words. "I want you to look after one another when we depart. You have no idea how much benefit it will come for your later life ..."

Once the children ran off to play with the dog that had just darted past them, Xenia's gaze then turned on the Temple. What if Yevon or whatever powerful god out there was punishing her with these blackouts? But being the anti-Yevon rebel, she soon brushed it off. However, she could not ignore the effect of the Temple had on her before.
 
There had once been a shrine of sorts atop the cliff, perhaps to some long forgotten deity, before the coming of Yevon...if, indeed, there had been such a time. Little remained of it now; clearly, much had crumbled away into the sea, eroded with the passage of time. The stone idols were worn and weathered, little more than lumps of rock, and fragments of shattered tiles littered the ground, indicating the presence of some sort of...ritual ground? Perhaps. Trull planted himself in the middle of this circle, savouring the silence. It was not the mountains, and nor was it the forests. Yet, it was peaceful. Nobody, be they children or adult, would venture up here, for they had no reason to.

It would do. The spear was unslung from its customary position on Trull's back, where it rested, a solid, comforting and familiar presence, in his hands. Trull studied its familiar surface for a few moments, and then exploded into motion, the spear weaving an intricate pattern through the air.

Too slow. The spear became a blur, weaving through the air so fast as to be almost invisible to the naked eye. The Sun had lost its intensity to him, and was little more than a glare in the corner of his vision, bearing down onto its back as if seeking to drive him to the ground under its stare; to crush him utterly. Cool winds, made cooler by the sweat drenching Trull's form, so cold as to chill him down to his very soul were he a lesser man, gently caressed him, seeking too in their own to break his spirit. The ceaseless roar of the ocean, the buzzing of human activity, the harsh shrieks of gulls and wild animals. His senses were assailed from all stands; waves crashing upon the shore. Yet, just as the shore does not give way to the sea, he would not break. The motions continued, becoming faster still, the power and speed sufficient to give even the mightiest of Ronso pause before the dance...

...stop.

Highwind. That was the name the Ronso had given him. An honourary title, to be sure, one that demanded respect and recognition, and yet it was not "Ronso", he was not Ronso. No matter how many hours or weeks or even years that he spent with the Ronso, he would never be one of them. He had realised this almost immediately, and the wound was an old one, yet old wounds still tormented the mind with pain, pain no less real than when the wounds had been ripped wide open.

Yet...it suited Trull. He was not Guado. Nor Ronso, nor Al Bhed, nor Hypello, nor Human. He was an outcast, one who was able to fit in with all races, yet was not truly a part of any of them. He was intangible, as ephemeral as the Fayth themselves and this, he had come to realise, was the life he had chosen. The life that had been chosen for him. What use to rail against fate?

Yet still, no barriers are impenetrable. On occasion, cracks emerged, threatening to break them down entirely; a torrent of madness that would drown the builder entirely. Thus it was that Trull found himself here, going through the familiar ceremony his training, his own private dance of Sending, overlooking a small, backwater village on an island with no real significance. It was odd, where life would take one when one allowed it to guide them without any restraints.

Brother. Is this how you felt? I recall your hours of solitude...was what you sought what I seek now? Or had you already found it within the isolation itself? What, brother, did you seek?

With a swift motion, Trull thrust his spear into the ground, leaving it standing erect in the ground as he moved over to the cliff edge, looking thoughtfully out to sea, wondering if, indeed, he had found what he had been searching for without even realising it.

Purpose.
 
[FONT=&quot]The ethereal orb in the sky was descending and with it, the skies exploded in a fiery spectacle of crimson, yellow and gold, basking the ocean and the horizon. Gulls fluttered above, excitedly chirping freely as they climbed their way upwards, ascending across the waves towards the far-flung reaches of the orange sky. Celviev needed not company at this moment in time, as she sat on the soft, silky sand examining the serene sunset before her. What better time for silent reflection as she contemplated the official journey ahead with her new companions? Still, she could not fully keep at ease. Numerous thoughts encircled her mind, much of it down to sheer uncertainty for the road ahead and the rest purely down to her own personal fears towards her own companions. That boy despite his demeanour certainly seemed very vulnerable indeed, could he possibly take this strain when there may be far more able men and women out there capable of undertaking this task? Maybe that was partially why she sought to embark on this pilgrimage now, to find out more Tyrann, as well as [/FONT][FONT=&quot]Xenia[/FONT][FONT=&quot]. [/FONT]

 [FONT=&quot]Oh! A soft object slammed into the back of her head. It didn’t hurt, but it felt like a ball. [/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Sorry, miss!”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Yeah, we’re sorry! But it’s actually Gon’s fault here, he threw it too hard!”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Liar! Sis, you threw that! Don’t blame it on me!”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“I can! You’re terrible at this! Of course it was you!”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]Celviev simply smiled and stood up, the inflatable Blitzball in hand.[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“It’s alright you two, no need to argue,” She calmly said, while absent-mindedly examining the ball in her hand, “Blitzball I take it?”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]The girl enthusiastically nodded, then crossed her arms, “Gon and I wanna be big Blitzball stars soon! We wanna join the Aurochs too, kay? Mommy and Daddy never take us out of Besaid and we wanna see the world! So what better place than Luca, where all the Blitzball stuff happens?”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Yeah!” piqued her brother with the same rabid enthusiasm, “We can meet so many people there, other people from other lands! I can tell them all about Besaid and they can tell us more about where they came from! And we wanna go visit those faraway places as well!”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Daddy takes us down here from time to time to see the boats come and go,” interjected the girl, “but we never get on them boats! I keep asking Daddy why and all he could do is laugh and tell me that when the time comes, we can! I don’t know why. Gon and I want to see the world now!”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]Celviev, who was already towering over the siblings, crouched down to meet with them at eye level. The curious, inquisitive nature of the children certainly fascinated her, reflecting what she had been like when she was still encased within the cocoon of Bikanel. Yet perhaps little has changed since then? Celviev certainly believed that her inquisitive nature remained as distil and present as it had ever been and that was not about to fade away anytime soon. This was her character, and the siblings before her epitomised that.[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“I’m sure your daddy will, but he’s right,” Celviev replied, “Spira out there can be very dangerous indeed, especially now…”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Yeah, Sin!” interjected the boy suddenly, “I know mommy and daddy are scared of Sin – is that why?”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]Celviev paused momentarily, unsure of whether conversing with children on the topic of something as horrific as Sin was appropriate, but she allowed her instincts to push her forward.[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Mhm. Your parents wouldn’t want anything to happen to you two now, would they? At least here in Besaid you can be safe and be surrounded by water, free to practise Blitzing for as long as you want. Until someone deals with Sin soon, it will be very dangerous out there. Seeing the world is great but you need to watch out for the dangers as well – on land and in the sea.”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Gon may be, but I’m not scared!” the girl defiantly declared, “When I can Blitz really well, I’ll practise magic as well! Black magic! When I learn it, I’m not letting anything get in my way, even if it’s Sin!”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]Their energy was certainly much to be admired for. Celviev stood up, stepped back and waved the Blitzball in front of her. She wanted to see if the brief moments of training with a ball in Luca before her arrival on Besaid had not abandoned her.[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Okay, I’ll see what I’ve got!” she announced, before tossing the ball straight into the air.[/FONT]

 [FONT=&quot]The ball speared through the air in its ascent before hurtling down with vicious velocity. Her eyes fixated on the ball, she leapt straight up after it before gracefully somersaulting in mid-air, accomplishing 180 degrees before her right foot slammed into the ball with brute force. Changing course abruptly, the ball hurtled uninterrupted straight towards a cliff-face. The siblings could only watch astounded and fixed on the spot. Passing the ball back to them after reclaiming it from the cliff-face, Celviev handed it back to the astonished siblings who were gripped with amazement.[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“That was…..cool,” Gon muttered, his eyes completely fixated on Celviev.[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Awesome,” the girl cried, “pleeeeeeeeease! Can you teach us how to do that?”[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]Before Celviev could reply, the horn of a ship could be heard nearby. The three gazed towards the sea and were met with the sight of a ship approaching the wooden docks of the island’s shore. It was no beauty. A mostly wooden structure in want of a repaint, its hull spacious and gliding across the vast aquamarine blanket, it was apparent that this could be the very ship that would take her, Tyrann and the rest of the party to the next temple the following day. She did wonder where it had just sailed from and where exactly their next destination would be in the morn. Regardless, the siblings stood utterly transfixed as the vessel approached.[/FONT]
 [FONT=&quot]“Lucky…” Gon muttered, “The people who get to get on that boat are lucky. I bet that boat came from somewhere faraway…”[/FONT]
 
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