Fix-it starter

[rosarianrebirth]

Joshua wakes up.

For a long moment, he feels like there is something wrong with that, but he can't figure out why.

He can hear the ocean waves lapping against the shore, the cry of birds. Sounds that seem familiar. Right.

Then memories crash down into him, and he gasps, opening his eyes and sitting up.

"Clive!"

He remembers the pain. Beyond anything he could have imagined. He remembers Ifrit Risen flying against Ultima. Together, forevermore.

He remembers the powers fading, and Clive's surprise, once he had absorbed Ultima's. His determination.

His farewell.

"CLIVE!" He's up on his feet, running, though he has no idea which way he is going or... where he even is. Then he stumbles as he realizes that the pain in his chest, familiar for the last half a decade, is completely gone. He looks down - and there is nothing. No Ultima. No gaping wound where it tore its way free. No...

No curse.

"Phoenix....?"

The familiar cry, echoing inside his bones, is present. But it seems somewhat weaker. "Clive... you-- you did it all, didn't you?"

But at what cost?

Joshua twists the front of his shirt in his fist, then raises his chin up, to look around. This... does not look too far from where the Origin had been hovering. Perhaps... perhaps there is still a chance to find him?

(Perhaps there he can find--)

Deep breath. Keep walking along the shore-- there. Oh.

"Dion!" The man - the man he loves - had fallen from so far. But he was, still is, mostly, a Dominant. Even defeated-- Yes. There is a pulse, if very faint.

"Phoenix. Help me. I know we may not have much time together, and I think I will not make you fight. But please, grant me all you can of your healing powers. That I may spare more grief. There has been far more than enough."

The answering cry is certain, and Joshua allows himself to smile. The Phoenix cannot return the dead to life. But he can mend bodies. Beyond that, it would be up to Dion, and Joshua .. thinks he knows how to give him the best chance he has. A medicine girl. And a Dragoon. He will have to find them, but he can manage that.

Hopefully.

When he sags, exhausted, coughing (it's only a cold, he realizes with a surprise, and it has been so, so long since it has just been a cold), at least Dion's heartbeat is steadier, his breathing steady. Joshua slumps against him, both to hold him after fearing he had lost him, and to share what body heat they have between them. And sleeps, for a little while.

It takes more than a day, before he can find the Undying, and then a little more time until they can provide him with a cart, and information. And escort. (He thinks... after the way that they were connected, that he would know, if Clive is gone. He hopes he is right. There is a lot of shore to walk. But he needs to do it. Each other's shields. Each other's salvation.)

He smiles, when they finally reach Terence, and the man's face lights up. He smiles at the man while the medicine girl shoos them out of the room where he is settled, and exchanges a few words. And leaves his letter for Dion with him. Then he leads the Undying knight to get some supplies and return to the shore.

It takes maybe another day, mostly running and catching his breath, and then running more, despite the Knight's protests and then pleas to rest, before the familiar red and black attire appears before his eyes, and he dashes before collapsing to his knees, to make sure.

Clive is alive.

Just.

He calls on the Phoenix again, and the answering cry is even softer, but very determined. Clive might be the Dominant of Ifrit, but the Phoenix has a claim on him, as well. Joshua smiles, exhausted, exhilarated, and lets the Eikon do what can be done. Then he sleeps again, but this time after he and his escort have gotten Clive to where Joshua can sit down, lean back, and have Clive's head rest on his lap.

They can go home, now. After some rest.

Hours later, he wakes up to the scent of warm food, and smiles gratefully.

"Thank you. I... am sorry that many, many things will change, because of what we did. The Phoenix is fading even now."

"Your Grace." The man is quiet for a little while. "The Phoenix is not gone yet. After... we will decide what to do. Until then, naught has changed.

Joshua takes the bowl of stew, warming his hands on it, and nods. "Thank you. I asked, before using his power thus."

He gets a smile in return. "You and your brother have changed the world. If it had been against the wishes of the Phoenix, then you would not have succeeded."

"True enough." Wait. "... have the Undying had word? About changes?"

"The easiest way to know was that the Obelisks no longer worked, and then disappeared altogether, as did the aetherfloods, thank the Phoenix. Then ... the Blight. Nothing is growing there - yet, it has been but days, but the blackness is gone. The scarring on the land is gone."

"Oh... thank the Founder." Joshua's hand caresses Clive's forehead. And thank you, big brother.

"Indeed."

"After... I have eaten. Will you help me get him on the cart? We have a ways to go. But we will be taking him - and me - to a very skilled healer."

"That shall be good, Your Grace."

And so they will find their way to the Hideaway

Comments

The Letter

[rosarianrebirth]

Dion,

My dearest.

I am sorry, but it seems that you will need to find something to live for other than regret. It may take a while. But Terence and I should provide a beginning, I hope.

I feel my brother is alive, and I need to find him before that changes. I leave you with the person who most needed to know that you live, and the one who helped you mend once already.

The Phoenix is fading. The marks of the Curse are gone, too. Soon, we will be men as any other. I think that is something Clive did, after he won.

Once he is recovered, I will find you again. If you are fit to travel before that - and please, do listen to both your attendants before you rush anywhere - if I should not be at the Hideaway, then those there will know where I have gone. But I will need rest, too, so there probably I shall be.

I look forward to a life I never had a chance for, before. And, I hope, by the side of a person, and eventually people, I love.

Rest well, and get well, Dion.

- Joshua

[zettaflair]

[Dion opens his eyes.

It feels really strange, and like something he should be doing. he remembers every moment leading to the darkness with perfect clarity but after that...

It takes him a while to be convinced that he is not dreaming when the first person he sees is Terence. A while longer to comprehend the tale Terence is telling him about how he came to be here. He clings when Terence grabs him in a hug that feels like it might crush his ribcage, can't help the tears when their lips finally meet again in a way Dion never thought would happen again.

Terence gives him the letter and Dion cries again more from relief than anythng else. Joshua lives. Joshua lives and if Great Greagor is merciful, so does his brother. Somehow, they did it.

It takes many hours, over many days, for Dion to tell the full tale of the battle. And then the tale of Joshua. He lets Terence read the letter, pours out his heart, and just as he predicted, gets scolded for having waited so long to open up and told in no uncertain terms that they will not travel until Kihel says that he is well enough for it. His throat his hoarse by the end of it, but he is at ease, finally. Joshua lives, Terence lives, Kihel lives, and that is all that matters.

It is, of course, not all that matters.

Bahamut is gone.

He feels the absence keenly at first, so used had he been to tha presence inside. But they both said their goodbyes, and Bahamut fought with him to the last, and gave him this last gift of not allowing him to die before Joshua found him. The dragon may be gone from this world, but the world, and Dion, will remember him.

The traces of the curse appear to have gone with him, although all consequences are not. Dion was thankfully not overly affected, but he does still have a small weakness in his right arm, something that makes it not respond as well as the other and that even Kihel's best pultices cannot heal. The nerve damage is there to stay, but it is not handicapping. He can still hold his lance, or a quill, and if can compensate for it relatively easily once he starts training again.

For weeks, he huddles there, with Terence and Kihel, allowing themboth to fuss over him. Still he is not idle. In his long moments of rest, he pens many letters that be he bids Terence to send, firts to the many commanders and foot soldiers of the dragoons, and then to some of the high-ranking officials from Sanbreque that he is told have survived.

In spite of everything, his people still live. The Empire does not, and Dion isn't convinced it should be ressurected. But if his people need guidance and look to him for it, he cannot refuse them.

After a few more restless weeks, Kihel finally declares him fit for travel and they leave the very next day, bound for the Hideaway, just the three of them traveling as fast as possible. Dion has plans for what he needs to do next, but all of that can wait until he has seen Joshua.

It takes a week of travel still until they finally reach their destination, and Dion can only assume everyone here has already been told of his survival and potential arrival, because the guards all but shoo him and his escorts in.

And it seems he doesn't even need to ask for whom he is coming here. Tarja gives him a look up and down, and then jabs her chin towards Joshua's quarters.]

He's resting, for once, and I didn't even have to threaten him for it. You, girl. Come with me.

[Kihel looks a bit apprhensive at first, but Dion nods and tells her to go, they'll be back soon and tarja has a lot of things to show her.

Dion still takes a deep breath before he raps his fingers against the door of Joshua's quarters. He did not announce the visit, and he is not sure why, except that they didn't really know when it would happen and he did not want to give Joshua hopes that might be dashed.... but the truth is, he might have wanted to surprise him.]

[rosarianrebirth]

Come in!

[ The soft but cheerful call is followed by a somewhat more worrying sound of heavy coughing.

Sorry, Dion, for the possible fright. ]

[pecsonthebeach]

Clive should be dead.

At least, he thinks so. Though a dead man shouldn't be able to think at all. He doesn't know. He's never actually died, even if it's felt like his heart has more than once. Maybe it's his consciousness. Does a man's mind still linger on, long after the body has lost its functionality? He doesn't know. Probably not. Maybe these are the last thoughts rushing through his mind before everything will cease for him.

His body is weak, after all. After taking Ultima's powers within himself and casting that final spell, it all proved too much. The last thing Clive saw, besides the moon and its faithful attendant, Metia, was his hand, rapidly turning to stone.

It all caught up to him. He shouldn't be surprised. He had been using the Phoenix's blessing for over thirteen years, and especially during his time with the Bastards. And then after every time he took another Eikon's essence, he all but relied on their gifts. Of course, this was going to be his fate.

Ha. Still a slave to it in the end. He can almost hear Cid laughing.

Except...there's discomfort in his neck. It doesn't feel like stone, more like it's resting at an odd angle. Perhaps the waves have shifted his useless body to such a point that he lies in a broken heap.

Voices reach his ears - or what part of him still resides - though he cannot make out words. Everything is muted for some time. Voices, and other noises, like a group of people trying to make ready for...something. A journey? If they're going to take him, hopefully it's somewhere nice. Clive hopes for some sort of heaven, but he probably deserves a hell.

Still, he cannot rest like this, despite his body - his own vessel - being out of his control. That is, until he manages to open his eyes, just a crack at first, but then enough for him to make out...a blur. A blur that is haloed by a fiery color. He blinks, hard, and tries again.

The blur clears up. And Clive knows for certain that he is dead. "Josh...ua..." he all but whispers, eyes falling closed once more, as a tear slips down his face.

...But dead men do not wake twice, yet Clive finds himself doing just that. He has no idea where he is as he stares at a ceramic ceiling bolstered by wooden beams. Familiarity scratches at the back of his mind. He's been here before. Hasn't he? New voices start to filter in, as if coming from outside these walls. He recognizes them, though he cannot assign any names right now. Ah, maybe one. Tarja.

Oh. Tarja. He'll be getting an earful from her, then. Maybe it would be best to not announce his wakefulness just yet. Instead, he tries to feel his limbs. Under the blanket, he flexes his right hand. It's a little slow to respond, but he must have been on that beach for some time. When it comes to his left hand, though...nothing.

Right. It petrified before his very eyes. "Ha..." It's barely a breath, but even that much makes Clive aware of just how dry his mouth is. Parched, actually. He tries to swallow, but his mouth feels like cotton. Even running his tongue over his lips yields no favorable results. Damn. Maybe he'll be getting that Tarja scolding sooner than exepcted.

[rosarianrebirth]

The conversation with the Undying knight ground to a resounding halt when his brother stirred, and then called his name, and Joshua found himself suddenly sobbing. These days, he has held himself together, because there were things he needed to do. But now what is left is beyond what he can do, and the exhaustion and worry, the despair and the relief, the pain and the hope all catch up with him with hearing his brother's voice again.

They are alive. He should be glad. And he is, beyond reckoning. But he can't make himself stop crying, right now.

By the time they get to the Hideaway, Joshua himself would get an earful from Tarja... after she has settled both him and Clive in beds, Joshua bundled warm, and both she and Jote busying themselves with preparing salves and potions and infusions.

Joshua spends some time asleep, and then half-awake, as fever takes some work to break, his chest burning and air difficult to take in. But it is different, so different, from the cold pain that used to be there before.

That is how when Clive wakes again, he is in the infirmary still.

"Clive! Lady Tarja, he wakes!"

... followed by a fit of coughing and a couple of sneezes to go with them.

Tarja busies herself with the elder brother after a glare at the younger one of don't you dare to leave your bed, and Joshua sighs, content to turn so he can observe.

She will probably have words for him later, but he is still... too early in recovery - and not trying to get up - for the tongue lashing to start.

That said. There are things she has to try.

"Now. Are you with us, Clive?"

[pecsonthebeach]

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Joshua - Joshua?! - yells for Tarja, but that surprise instantly turns to concern when the coughing fit follows. It's so familiar, too familiar, and if Clive had the strength, he would be out of this bed and right next to Joshua, doing anything to soothe him.

Instead, he gets as far as to roll onto his side to face his brother before Tarja gently fusses over him. All Clive can do is stare, eyes taking in every detail about Joshua's face. He's pale, but that's not exactly new, but his hair is as golden as ever. More importantly, his eyes are still that same bright blue...and so alive.

Clive shakes his head, though whether answering Tarja's question or in shock, he can't say. But he tries, rasping out an actual answer. "I'm not...certain." Because he saw Joshua die, but he has no reason to think Tarja had died, as well, so...where does that leave him?

"I'll give you a few minutes to figure it out, then, but know there's only one correct answer. There are too many people counting on you."

Clive nods and Tarja leaves to fetch...hopefully something for Clive to drink. Though, in reality, it will probably be something to drink, plus medicine. That's fine. There's more to hold his attention right now than the threat of a very good physicker. Clive manages to pull his right arm from under the sheets and reaches out toward Joshua, though the gap between their beds is too wide for him to make any contact. He lets his arm drop a moment later. "...Joshua?"

[zettaflair]

[By the time Dion and his entourage made it back to the Hideaway, weeks had gone by and so that was enough time for most of them to at least get back on their feet, including the hero of the hour. But when they had arrived, he and Jill Warrick had been out, gone on what Dion understood to be small trips meant to help both of them recover some stamina and physical strength, for a longer trip later.

And so it is a few days after Dion, Terence and Kigel made it there that Clive returns, and that after he has rested, Dion makes his way to his chambers.

He almost calls out 'Ifrit' as he knocks. Swallows it back at the last second. He can't really call him that anymore, can he? Ifrit is gone, just like Bahamut and the Phoenix. Which... makes it a bit of mystery what he can actually call him. 'Lord Rodfield' feels too formal, 'Clive' feels too familiar, 'Cid' is an entire kettle of fish Dion doesn't feel like touching right now...

Well, he supposes he'll have to see about that once they actually converse. The man can tell him what he'd rather be called. So he'll settle for knocking for now.]

[pecsonthebeach]

[If Clive had had his way, he would have been out of the infirmary days earlier, but Tarja had heard none of it. If she were less of a healer, he suspects she would have tied him to the bed until she was satisfied. Even when he said someone had to take care of the missives and direct the Cursebreakers where they were needed, she had (rightfully) countered that Otto had it under control.

Of course, when he was finally released, she hadn't been thrilled to learn that he and Jill were immediately taking trips outside of the Hideaway, but there is only so much she can do to keep him down. Those had been some of his favorite moments, though in this post-Ultima world, that list grows daily.

But, even though Otto had kept the Hideaway afloat during Clive's recuperation, he isn't Cid. The sad fact of the matter is that despite all their efforts and all the magic being driven from Valisthea and how this is all good, it's a transition time for the realm. The nations are in chaos with losses of leaders and governmental systems, though at least the Triunity Accord is a step in the right direction. Bless Uncle Byron for his quick thinking and various connections.

But there are also the men and women who had profited and made their fortunes off the Bearers. Sure, they can't use Bearers' skills anymore, but that doesn't mean some of them won't retaliate out of anger or fear and take it all out on those who have been raised to be subservient. Clive will take in anyone who needs to escape such realities, but that also brings to light another truth. The Blight is healing. Which means Lake Bennumere will not always be impervious to malicious outsiders.

He sits at his desk and looks at the newest missives to arrive and holds his head in his hands, groaning at this neverending work. Someone has to do it and he is the main reason the world is in its current state, but he doesn't have to like it.

Next he knows, something heavy and warm settles across his lap. Ah. Torgal's massive head. Clive leans back in his chair and smiles down at the wolf, immediately petting him. His left hand has gained some sensation, though he thinks it's always going to be a little off for the rest of his life. A small price to pay to be able to see the new world.]

Oh, Torgal. When will I be able to retire?

[The wolf angles his head to better look at Clive and gives him a dubious guttural answer.]

Yes, that's what I feared.

[A moment later, Torgal excuses himself from Clive's lap and rounds the table with ears angled forward, looking toward the door. As expected, a knocking follows. Since the Hideaway houses only those allied to Clive in some sense, and Torgal shows no signs of distress, Clive doesn't think anything of it.]

Enter.

[zettaflair]

[Dion pushes the door open, gives Torgal a small smile and his hand to sniff.

... And gives Clive a nod as well, evacuating the problem of the name of the name for now.]

My apologies for disturbing you at work. We arrived a few days ago and did not have the time to greet you then; I hope you'll excuse our lack of courtesy.

[None of which was anyone's fault, really, but manners are ingrained in Dion.]

The Late Evening

[zettaflair]

[X]

[About twenty minutes, Dion comes into the room, carrying a tray.

On it is a steaming bowl of fragrant soup, a rich meat broth with vegetables - no carrots! -, and a teapot of soothing herbal tea prepared by Kihel.

All three of them are quite busy these days. In fact, Terence is out right now on errands for Dion. And Dion himself has spend late evenings poring over documents and letters too, so he gets it.

The difference is, he's always had Terence to nudge him to rest and eat. Joshua had Jote, yes, but they were constantly on the road, in hiding, and while she obviously did her very best, if Joshua had ordered her to simply leave him to his work, she would have obeyed. She is learning, these days, to put her foot down more firmly on certain things. Tarja has been a good influence on her, and Terence too.

Dion comes to put the tray on the table, at Joshua's elbow, and pours some of the tea.]

Don't let it get cold. Molly worked hours on that broth.

[He will drop a kiss on the top of Joshua's head, and then go settle into one of the chairs with a book borrowed from the Shelves. He sits across the chair, back resting against one of the armrest and legs flung over the other.]

[rosarianrebirth]

Smells wonderful.

[ Jote being more insistent on what she things right settles Joshua's mind a lot, but he still thinks, heartachingly, that she is better off away from him.

But also, he is focusing on the work, and looks up with a smile after the kiss, blinking and swallowing heavily at the way Dion settles down. Certainly attempting to be a distraction, but if Joshua leaves most of this work for tomorrow, he will be even busier in the morning, and the time is not quite late enough to feel as though he would be skimping on his sleep even if he had stayed up later than the two hours promised.

Deep breath, and he pushes a couple of letters towards Dion, letting him peruse them or not as he wishes. One is a query if there are former Bearers in Sanbreque who need relocation, as Eastpool is growing, with the Blight at its doorstep no longer a problem, and would welcome people who may be chased away from other places. The other is less in need of an answer, more information - a list of books that the Undying have records were in various libraries in Twinside and they have tracked elsewhere, that Joshua will next be asking them to make extra copies of. Knowledge need not be lost, even after what Ultima did when he raised Origin.

Then he picks up the spoon, cradling the bowl close to him and pushing the reports a little further, to avoid and splotching. ]

[zettaflair]

[To be fair, Dion wasn't even arranging himself in this position to be distracting on purpose. It's just old habits from a time when occasionally wings would pop out. And as a soldier, he's learned to make himself comfortable in improbably positions.

But it's true that it does draw attention to his legs, and his waist.

Dion will look up at the papers pushed his way, and extend an arm to catch them and peruse them.

The query he will forward to Terence on the field, so he can give the options directly to the people. As for the rest... loath as he is to depend on the Undying - whose loyalties remain with Joshua so far, but for how long? - at this point in time they are the only ones with the resources to undertake such a necessary task.

He spares a glance, and a smile, to Joshua eating, but doesn't hound him more about it. He won't even urge him to hurry about his work. But when the two-hour mark is hit, he closes his book and stretches until he feels his back pop, and turns a quizzical look towards Joshua.

He gave him the time he asked for,, not he feels he can ask for Joshua to actually rest.]

The dragon whisperer

[zettaflair]

[The world is in chaos still.

Men are reeling from the disappearance of all of the crystals, from the death of the one who styled himself their God without their knowledge, from magic fading from the world, from the unknown that is now their lot.

The Hideaway feels like an island in the storm, but even it is not spared. Joshua still coordinates the Undying from there, Dion runs his dragoons and what's left of his own spy network from there until fate might conspire to make him take a more active role than he wishes - but he is too responsible not to if his people need him. The hub also keeps helping to relocate Bearers to different parts of Valisthea, reuniting broken families, reviving long dead villages once lost to the Blight or more recently to aether floods, who have also abated.

The eerie calm from just after Origin fell is gone, although pools of it can still be found at times. And while just like Dion, Joshua is too conscientious to leave things undone, both Dion and Terence have made it their mission to make him take regular breaks. While Ultima and the Phoenix are gone and their strain on Joshua's body too, that hasn't exactly made his base health better, and he is still prone to pushing himself.

He's barely pushed open the door to the area Joshua has commandeered as a study that he hears his voice raise in susprise.]

"What is this one doing this far west of Lostwing?"

[It looks like some unexpected trouble might be afoot.]

Is something the matter?

[Bandits, or a creature that got displaced and is now wreaking havoc?]

[rosarianrebirth]

[ The Hideaway is probably the place where Joshua's sanity is both best preserved and pushed to its limits, paradoxically. Clive and Jill and Dion and Terence, and everyone, have managed to make it feel as home, but if Dion and Terence had not recognized that he needs to get out sometimes, he would not know how badly too much of a good thing could make him feel trapped.

With time, they are coming closer to a balance, and Joshua is fare less pent up and in need to prove that he is well enough, or anything of the sort.

That doesn't mean that, while Clive and Jill are away, more and more these days, he is not the one left with the kind of work that Otto or Dorys can't handle easily, on top of reports from the Undying and Rosalia. It... feels good to be useful. But the breaks are also appreciated.

When Joshua looks up at Dion, his face lights up. That is the usual course of things, so the slight aspect of just the man I need to see might be mostly lost. ]

Dion! How migratory are young dragons?

[ Beat, as he realizes that taking his thoughts from the middle is unlikely to be helpful. ]

Apologies. There seems to be a dragon off the north shore of Bennumere. The first people who spotted it panicked, but the Cursebreakers who went to see could recognize, skittish and from a distance as it seemed, that this one is very young. I was just surprised at how far from home it is.

[ ... is. The dragonet is still alive.

Joshua isn't asking for anything more than information just yet, but if anyone, well, any two people can figure out what is to be done, it would be Dion and Terence. ]

[zettaflair]

[Well, that sure is a question he was not expecting, and both of Dion's eyebrows raise at first.]

They're not, usually. Dragons are territorial, they stay around the area where they were born.

[So indeed, a dragon that far southwest is... an oddity. But if it's a young one, and skittish...]

If it's a young one, it's probably not a wild one. The Sanbreque army and the dragoons have used dragons raised from eggs to carry messages. They're raised by men and handfed. With the disorder at present, I would be surprised if some of them were abandoned and broke out of their holding pens in search of food, but they're not used to fending for themselves and most don't know how to hunt, so they would look for food stores for sustenance.

[And probably spook a few people as they did.

A dragonet is a small life in the grand scheme of things, of course. But... But it was one of the small lives that was sworn to the duty of protecting Sanbreque, and made to without being asked and Dion feels responsible for all those lives, the ones lost and those that can yet be saved.]

I'll go have look. Send word to people not to get close.

[rosarianrebirth]

ooc: From here.

[ Kisses are more desired right now than teasing, Joshua can well appreciate that, and he obliges with relish, his arms wrapping tight around Dion, hands on his waist, his behind, as he presses weight against him.

Not so long ago, in being startled by his own reaction, he probably would have pulled back, tried to explain, to question, getting himself and - he's learned - Dion more frustrated. But now he can accept the need and want in Dion as matching his own and let go of overanalyzing... for a little while.

And, while his desire is certainly heated up and he knows that he can make Dion's mind blank out, clear of the pain, in short order, he rather wants to enjoy just this, also. Kissing, holding on, riling up the desire without a rush to sate it. Letting all of his want for Dion burn with every swipe of tongue on togue, slide of lips against lips, body against body, ever brighter, but not trying anything else until it becomes unbearable. ]

[zettaflair]

[It honestly has been a joy to discover what makes Joshua tick alongside him - and, to be frank, Dion is much less surprised by what has come up than Joshua himself is as he discovers new things about himself. They have a lot more in common, it turns out, than just being Dominants and princes.

Terence has been enjoying it too, if only because it calls back to mind his own fumbling with Dion when they were ten years younger and learning to navigate their newfound love, hormones, and politics all at the same time.

For now, Dion is more than happy to let Joshua manhandle him gently and just kiss him until he's short of breath. He can feel his body react, too, but he likes this feeling and teasing himself with it, and while he wouldn't say no to more, this is also very, very pleasant.

And then he laughs, softly.]

Somehow, we got here from talking about balls. That seems... fitting.

friendly spar time

[pecsonthebeach]

[The Hideaway has always awakened early and it continues to do so. The world is changing, but their community more or less keeps its old habits. Clive is no different, though some days he's able to lie in bed with Jill for a while longer. He would have done so today, and it was extremely tempting with the way her silver hair pooled over her shoulder and the pillows, but instead, he whispered an apology against her temple and dropped a gentle kiss to her cheek before slipping out of bed.

The summer sun will claim its peak in the sky soon, so the morning is the best time to get anything strenuous accomplished. Not that Clive minds so much; the sight of the sun is something he tries never to take for granted ever again. Even so, he makes his way down to the Pit, intent on giving a practice dummy a good whacking today.

Losing magic and Ifrit isn't the worst feeling in the world. In the back of his mind, Clive thanks Lord Murdoch and his training as a Shield for his base knowledge. The Phoenix's blessing and his power as a Dominant had added to it, of course, and made fighting much easier, but at least he isn't left feeling completely useless now. But it's his left hand that worries him with its numbness, even though it isn't his dominant hand. He probably won't be able to use it properly like he used to, so it's time to grow used to the limitation and figure out how to still fight despite it.

Clive stretches a little first to warm up his muscles, then grabs one of the heavier wooden swords, starting with simple attacks. He doesn't pay attention to whether or not people watch him; he tends to draw a crowd when he practices for whatever reason, probably because it's not the most common occurrence.]

[zettaflair]

[There is another one here who has made a habit of waking before the sun and doing his training drills then, an old habit that is a hold over from dragoon training days.

He hasn't seen much of Clive since they came back. He's been busy with his own affairs, and Clive was away with Jill when he, Terence and Kihel arrived, and all in all, it felt right to give the man space and allow him some peace and quiet. They've exchanged a few words while around other people, but not spent any meaningful time together.

With the amount of nights Dion and Terence have now spent with Joshua, it feels a little overdue.

Still, Dion knows better than to interrupt someone's training, and there's room enough for him to go through his own routine on the side, which he does after a small nod of greeting, the spear glinting in the rising sun.

This is nice, actually. At the camp, he didn't train alone either, but these days Terence likes to rest when he can, and he has deserved it, with all the errands he is running, so Dion wouldn't demand he keep up the same schedule. But... this is nice.]

Relevant thread

[rosarianrebirth]

Dion ulcer and future escape thoughts

Relevant thread

[rosarianrebirth]

licking blood

Relevant thread

[rosarianrebirth]

cockblocked by a behemoth

Relevant thread

[zettaflair]

Minor Injury

cont

[rosarianrebirth]

ooc: From here.

Perhaps, or they kept that from me as I was so young, but Father meant to tell me eventually. Or maybe such things never reached us.

Bahamut is a better catch than the Phoenix anyway (that's a jest, of course. For Barnabas Tharmr, each of the eikons was important to have and to offer as sacrifice)

[zettaflair]

You also had the Undying protecting you from the shadows, and I doubt not they were as formidable in their own right as the Knights Dragoons.