Beau (rivalen) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-06-04 00:11:00 |
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The oppressive silence of the Necrohol kept most from even considering a visit, but tethered outside, Rivalen had left Kwee and entered — the smell of death here was old, not like the city after the battle. This was decay, forgotten people that had passed long ago and had no one to mourn them. Would this be his fate too? To die and be forgotten as a nobody. He twitched inwardly, refusing that to become his truth (his future). As he waited for Scarlet, he leaned back against a moss covered wall that was still damp. Not the fresh morning dew, but water that had percolated through, losing the essence of what made it water and instead produced this brown liquid. Rivalen wiped his shoulder, grimacing at the stain. In no particular rush, Scarlet spent a few minutes with Kwee outside. She had prepared a small treat for the chocobo (if Rivalen would not give her his pet, then she would have his pet love her more until he would buy her her own out of spite), feeding and petting the animal before, rather reluctantly, heading toward her brother. She pushed past a holy knight guard, too tired to make eye contact or offer any sort of challenging smirk, and noticed a few white mages. Ten minutes, she told herself. The plot next to her father was fresh, the headstone barely put in days ago due to the influx of deaths in the city. The youngest Beau looked to the right of her mother’s grave: slots for two more. Rivalen could sell his, once (if) he got married. Scarlet had no intentions of marriage, and wondered what her parents would have wanted her to do with hers. Seeing that her plot remained, even after becoming a Fell, after leaving Emillion, caused some dissonance. “Would you bury me here?” she asked her brother, standing not far behind him. They were long past formalities such as hellos and goodbyes. Startled, Rivalen straightened casting his sister a glance, she had been silent as a cat when approaching and he was not fond of being surprised like this. However, he also figured that Scarlet had snuck up on him partly to unsettle him for amusement - it could be added to her victories. “Would you want me to bury you here?” Somehow, Rivalen couldn’t see either one of them being buried here, among parents that had never really understood their children. They might as well have been tucked next to stranger; there was an uncomfortable needle inside, pressing against his gut. “It would be cheapest, since we already own these.” But money was not a consideration for them, not like that; money meant little without power and there was only so much power money could buy. Rivalen lived among nobles he could see that now. Taking a seat beside Rivalen, Scarlet shrugged. “I’m not sure.” If she had been, her question would’ve been a statement. “But if I died in that attack, where would you have put me?” The thought forced her to acknowledge that she didn’t necessarily belong here or there; that, while she may have friends, she wasn’t tethered to any one person or thing. She did not have a home. He moved to get comfortable by her side, “Here, obviously. Wouldn’t feel right putting you somewhere else, even if you did fuck off somewhere and all.” His tone was not bitter, just factual. Perhaps, if he had been given another choice, he would’ve gone off somewhere as well. It was too late for that. “Do you want me to bury you somewhere else?” Rivalen could oblige that request, “I would probably like to be buried here anyway — why go through the trouble of more. I’d be dead, who cares?” Scarlet managed a laugh. It just seemed like the worst conversation they could be having at their parents’ graves, or.. perhaps it was the only appropriate place. “No,” she said finally. “I’ll be dead, it won’t matter then, right?” Maybe that would change later, if special people entered their lives. But Scarlet couldn’t imagine that, either for Rivalen or herself. What that meant for the Beau lineage, she had no idea, but Scarlet could, honestly, care less. His laugh was short and abrupt, tinged with amusement at the edges, “Our parents raised us well, didn’t they?” To have brought into this world a pair of unconventional siblings like them. “Better to be practical about these things, why be wasteful when we have perfectly good graves waiting for us?” Rivalen gave her a friendly nudge, as if they were sharing a secret between them and not just trading morbid opinions. “I suppose you probably spoiled Kwee on your way in. He won’t give into bribery let me tell you.” Her eyes flickered over to their graves. She imagined her parents in the next world, or watching down on them. For a brief second, she also did picture them in their graves, their souls banging on their caskets, screaming without a voice to be let free. Perhaps that was hell. Their own caskets, stuck in darkness alone for all of eternity. Her eyes rose to all of the headstones around them. Perhaps. Rivalen’s nudge woke her out of her thoughts, and she smiled warmly over at her brother. “I feel father would beg to differ. But he was, if anything, a practical man.” Scarlet was thankful for the change in subject almost immediately, laughing as he mentioned Kwee. “Been working well so far.” Had she shared that image, her brother would’ve smiled widely; that was a far more entertaining thought than their discussion about whether they wanted to be buried here or there. “He can roll over in his grave then.” Rivalen replied without heat, drawing one knee up so he could rest his arm on it, “Kwee may stray a little from the path, but he is loyal. Far more than any hume in this faramforsaken city. Present company excluded.” The last sentence added for her benefit, mechanical in his interactions, but evolving to adapt his mechanisms to the situations as required. As his relationships evolved, so did the ways he reacted (and practiced reacting). “You think I’m loyal?” she asked in genuine curiosity, her voice neither taunting or in disbelief. It was the first moment Scarlet had in asking herself the explicit question of who she was loyal to. Or what was worth committing such loyalty to. There was little. He turned his eyes on her at the question, a little smirk playing at the corner of his lips — they both knew he could easily fall into taunts and insults in that moment. Being in front of their parent’s graves meant nothing, what was there to give the dead? Respect? They couldn’t even appreciated it. Rites for the dead were a spectacle for the living. “You are loyal to your own blood.” To me. “You are loyal to the Dark, or do you bargain with it?” How do you wield it? A brow quirked up at her brother’s smirk, ready to take on a playful jab. But his response was, if anything, surprisingly true. “I am.” Loyal to you, you are my brother. “And I would say neither, or perhaps both.” Scarlet seemed to take a moment to figure out how to express it in words. “It is a give and take relationship. I do not consume the Dark so that the Dark does not consume me.” It didn’t make her the strongest of Fells, but at least she still had herself. He tilted his head, curious at her words but didn’t ask any further questions. Looking for a relationship with the dark was not on his list of things to do, leave that to others. “Come on, I’m fucking sore from sitting on the ground. Let’s get a drink.” Rivalen didn’t need to tell her twice. Scarlet stood up, extending a hand to her brother. Neither were really sibling material, but at least with Riv, she didn’t feel so alone either. It was her against the world, but it helped having someone who shared the same parents to have shaped him to who he was today. You are loyal to your own blood, he had said. And the phrase repeated itself in her mind all the way to the nearby pub. |