summonerd | i just wanna know: who broke it?

i just wanna know: who broke it?

[Sheena'd thought she was all done with dimensional travel, now that the two worlds were united. But here she is, having fallen asleep in one world and woken up in a Tethe'alla that's just different enough from the one she knows to be constantly jarring. Her connections to Aselia's summon spirits dangle loose, snapped by distance - not even Origin's power could follow her here, it seems. That's more than a little unsettling.

It takes her some time, alone in a bizarro version of Meltokio as she is, but eventually she stumbles on a lead - an old scientific journal, a mention of the power of something called an Aegis being able to transcend space and time, at least in theory. And a little asking around tells her that Tethe'alla has its own Aegis, though no one's seen it for years. Well. Worth a shot, right?

Somehow she manages to talk her way into the Tethe'allan castle where the Aegis's core crystal awaits being woken up, with a series of smiles and her very best politicking - yes, of course she's got nothing but loyalty for Tethe'alla, of course she's skilled at this, of course it'd be a great honor.

(Zelos would be proud, she thinks, wryly.)

They're dubious, but her persistence wears them down, or maybe they're just desperate enough for a return of the Aegis's power to let her try, and the orange core crystal is offered out to her.

She takes a deep breath, and reaches out to touch it.]

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The moment that their group steps into the general area they choose to call camp, something immediately starts to feel wrong. It's like a prickling sensation underneath Zelos' artificial skin that, though small and easy to ignore at first, still flares up and grows and threatens to rip him apart from the inside and destroy him the longer that it goes unchecked. It crawls up his core and lodges itself in his windpipe, and unconsciously the Aegis reaches up to scratch at his throat lightly, gulping down the stubborn lump before it can completely silence him.

Alarmed and alerted, yet wanting more information before acting, Zelos frowns, turns his attention to the ambient ether surrounding them all while pretending to busy himself by preparing everything for the fire. It's probably just an ether crystal deposit around the area or something, he thinks, since the signal around their camp isn't nearly strong enough or mobile for him to think that anything alive could possibly be outputting it. It feels more like a force of nature than it does a life force. But then that strikes him as even weirder; why would ambient ether lodge itself in his core like this, like it's a threat or a danger? Even the mines hadn't felt quite this oppressive.

Something's definitely up here.

That prickling sensation multiplies twofold under Zelos' skin, beating to a tick-tick-ticking rhythm that his pulse has memorized since the moment of his escape, since that millisecond in the mines when his mind gave him the cold, harsh numerical values of their survival on a bloodstained silver platter. His attention snaps up suddenly, hand already reaching for his driver before his eyes even find her. "Hey, Sheena," he says through another lump in his throat that he desperately swallows back down again, grip on her arm tight. "Something's wrong. I--"

And then it happens.

Within seconds, the sun is yanked right out of its descent to rest back up atop the skies, blue tint clear and breaking through the reds and oranges of twilight as the cloud sea above them is parted as if to make way for the painful brilliance of the blaring heavenly body, torn apart by an invisible force that pries reality open. On its perch the sun beats down harshly upon their camp, stuck there for a moment before it is shoved elsewhere, over to the south, resting there in its full, proud glow on a bright blue sky. Blue, not red. As if denying the sky itself the right to bleed in agony, a request for their full attention.

It is painful to look at. The glare of the sun is hot on sensitive skin, almost evaporating the ambient ether to unbearable smog that clings to the inside of Zelos' lungs.

The ether around the area is suddenly pushed down with an overwhelming pressure that brings Zelos to one knee, and his grip on Sheena's arm means that he drags his driver down with him when his legs give out. At first Zelos chokes on it: the lump in his throat becomes a claw that obstructs his throat and seizes all the air in his lungs, keeping it in an air pocket within its tight fist. Coughing, Zelos' free hand reaches up to his throat and uselessly grasps at it as if to dislodge it, eyes wide and lost on the ground as he starts scratching at skin. Get it out, get it out, get it out. Because this sensation... this abrupt change in ether...

Oh, no.

Oh, no no no no no--

Zelos gags. They don't have much time. They don't have time. They don't have the time to be sitting ducks out here in the open when--when-- "Fuck," he manages to cough out, skin clammy with the ambient ether's abrupt 180 into whatever the fuck this is. He's shaking, but nobody cares about that. He can't give himself the time or privilege to care about that, so he pushes himself up to stand, trying to drag Sheena back up with him. He doesn't know if she even needs the help. He can't tell if Sheena's okay or not. He's not really paying attention. His mind is too busy running numbers, the synchronization between his logical and his emotional halves torn to shreds like the clouds above had been, leaving him in a slight daze.

"We gotta go, we gotta go, we gotta go."

"Hang on," Malos' voice stops Kratos, though only for a second. "You wanna head towards whatever the hell that is!?"

There's a catch of fear in Malos' voice but Kratos pays it no mind, anger burning in his core, anger and sharp sharp sharp need singing inside of him, pushing him pushing him towards the source, his brother's ether calling him choking him and Kratos grounds his feet and stands tall in the wake of it, ready to shoulder ahead.

"It's Mithos," Kratos says, simply. "I have to--"

No time. No time no time. The ether fluctuates in fits and starts, the sun a burning and vibrant cry for help against a stubbornly blue sky. Kratos does not look to see if anyone follows him when he marches ahead. He's taken down armies alone, before. He'll do it again.

Edited 2019-07-05 02:23 (UTC)

Honestly, Zelos' first instinct is to run away from the source of this mess, every single self-preservation alarm in his mind and core screaming 'save yourself save yourself save yourself' within the cacophony of calculations and his systems trying to stabilize in the situation. He pulls at Sheena, urging her in literally any direction except south, still coughing up the remains of that lump in his throat. The ether in the area tastes like raw emotion, bitter and scalding with its rage. Much like his own has before, back when he was in--

Zelos abruptly stops thinking about that for long enough to hear Kratos mention Mithos' name.

And it's--it's like a bucket of cold water is dumped on him, a half-guilty, half-horrified feeling sinking to the bottom of his core like a fishing line that hooks down and pulls him south. Mithos. An Aegis. He's causing this. A blade is suffering. An Aegis is suffering. An original is suffering. And Zelos, he's--here he is, thinking of running away and saving himself like a coward while Kratos puts himself at risk for Mithos, while someone with an actual place in this world suffers for--

It's not going to continue.

Zelos draws in a sharp breath and abruptly lets go of Sheena's arm. He gets up to his full-height and doesn't think about it when he starts walking south, refuses to, just focuses on Kratos' retreating back. That hook in his core pulls him forward and he lets it, ignoring everything else in favour of making himself useful by helping Tethe'alla's rightful Aegis.

It's the least he can do with his miserable existence, right?

In the aftermath of the reunion of the worlds, in the recreation of a joined Aselia, Lloyd had learned how to control his angel powers in what could only be called the hard way. Without a true guiding hand to teach him how to control them - (Colette tried, she really did, but how are you supposed to really control powers your body was never meant to have?) - many of his tactics came by way of trial and error and terrifying moments of clarity.

Accidentally shutting off his hearing for a day was horrible, yet funny in the grand scheme of things. Something to laugh at afterward, to joke around about and keep in an otherwise humorous memory. Turning off his emotions, though.

Now that was something that truly scared Lloyd.

Truthfully, he's not sure if his friends back home even realized what had happened to him when it did. He's not even sure what it was that triggered the disconnect, what made him snap his emotional ability with scissors he was never meant to use. All he remembers is the feeling of emptiness in his chest and mind, a frightening awareness of logic he usually didn't care for in favor of emotions he wasn't able to feel. On that day, there wasn't a single decision that Lloyd didn't think through at least twice, and the simple fact that there wasn't any emotional input was enough to scare him into finding out how to feel again. He stayed up that entire night, staring up at the ceiling, thinking of things he never voluntarily thought about, just to trigger himself into crying, into smiling, into anything that would force an emotional response, something that would show him he hadn't lost his humanity.

He had never thought he would ever welcome a nightmare, but the tears that greeted him when he woke up that night were like a blessing from a goddess he no longer believed in.

The best way he had learned to control his emotional output was to imagine if as less like a lock on a door or a plug in an outlet, but more of a stick-and-box animal trap. The trap represented his manaflow, and the animal it could trap his emotional capabilities. As long as he didn't allow his manaflow to overpower his emotions, as long as he kept it regulated to allow for that vital part of his pre-angel transformation to shine through, he'd be able to feel.

The panic that Mithos' name induces in Lloyd's system, the way that the sun shifts in a representation of Mithos' instability, the way that Kratos and Zelos follow forward to find him, heedless of Malos' warning - it all becomes way too much to process at once, the way the environment shifts from the scenary in front of him into something resembling Altessa's house, the Tower of Salvation, Derris-Kharlan -

The box snaps shut over the fox, and though Lloyd had faltered, he stands tall and emotionless.

"Sheena," he calls, eyes roaming over the sky. She knows as well as he does that this is a dangerous situation for everyone involved, with the exception of Kratos, should Mithos not be right of mind. He can't help the way he side-eyes Kratos, either - his own Kratos shred allegiance to his son for loyalty to Mithos before, and they can't be sure that this Kratos won't betray them either. Purposely keeping his voice low, Lloyd continues. "Keep an eye out for any disturbances. I can't read the ether in the area, but Zelos' reaction - it doesn't say much good about what's happening."

Unsheathing Gagnrad, he steps forward to follow Kratos and Zelos. Lloyd keeps his gaze firm ahead of them, enhances his hearing to keep at attention, and keeps his grip tight on the handles of his swords.

Left flank? Clear.

Right flank? Clear.

Anna and Malos are at the tail-end of the group. They look hesitant, maybe a little panicked, but they're fine, otherwise. All clear.

All clear. All logical. All will be fine.

Sheena turns her attention to Zelos when he takes hold of her arm, away from the part of their camp she'd been helping to set up.

It's not much more than a vague pressure in the air to her, a mana signature cousin to the feeling of an oncoming storm, but the way the sun suddenly moves makes it very clear that it's no storm. She chokes a little when Zelos does, unable to look away from that sky. When Zelos goes down, she stumbles, tries to keep her footing on instinct for a second before she goes down with him in what isn't her most dignified moment. She barely even notices.

"C'mon, just breathe," she half-pleads, free hand bracing itself carefully on his other shoulder. "It's--" Well. Is it okay, Sheena? Whatever this is, it's clearly not good. She doesn't process Kratos's words to Anna right away, drowning in the emotional bleed and the oppressively heavy ether in the air, but when Zelos gets up and tries to pull her up too she follows, lets him pull her.

And then Zelos's guilt and horror breaks over her, and it's enough to cut through the worst of it, at least. Sheena swallows hard, tries to put up at least a little of a barrier between the two of them just to regain her composure, even as he lets go of her and starts walking. Towards the too-high sun, like he intends to meet it head on. Fuck.

"Hey, wait for me," she calls, wincing a little to herself as she hurries south after Zelos. Every inch of her limited ether sensitivity, not to mention her survival instincts, is screaming out not to follow, but she's damned if she's going to let Zelos go alone. And with what Kratos had said… If it's a cry for help, it's not like Sheena can ignore it, no matter who it's coming from. She digs into a hidden pocket for a few cards, fanning them out in her hand in preparation. She's not sure what exactly it would take to overpower an Aegis, but it probably involves enough enemies that she'll be better off with her preferred weapons than attempting to take on just one at a time with her knife.

Lloyd's voice pulls her attention away from her preparations, and she looks back as he speaks. "Right," she calls back, with a firm nod. His tone is smooth and even in a way that's not familiar, and she can't say she likes it, but - he's still himself, still present. It's not like how he'd been in the mines. It's… It'll be okay, at least while they get through this. Hopefully. Sheena catches up to Zelos, falling into step next to him.

The closer you get to the source-- to Mithos-- the higher up in the sky the sun travels, positioned directly over Mithos as it is. It sits, proud and confident in a stubborn blue sky, careless to the actual time of day. The ether in the air is thick, mostly light based, but there's a touch of earth in it, and a quieter touch of the other elements. Kratos is likely the only one not choking on it, because he knows this ether, he's had it course through his veins before, so the most he feels is comforted by its familiarity, perhaps a little worried for the boy producing it and so much of it, too, why would he need to produce this much? It's building and building and building like it does not intend to stop, building and building and building like an unsteady tower to the heavens that's only doomed to crash--

There is a hill, blocking your view of the distressed Aegis, but you can hear him by the time you're at the foot of the hill. It's a voice Kratos could not possibly mistake, a voice that Lloyd and Sheena will recognize, and well. The anguish of a broken child in the pits of despair, bleeding out all of his anger as he screams:

"You want to see the world fucking burn? Fine! FINE! Put me in the cannon, then! Go on! I'll gladly burn this miserable fucking planet until there's nothing left of it! I'll burn it all--"

Sylvarant's cannon goes off.

The blast hits somewhere-- distant, irrelevant, no where close to any of you. An Aegis might be able to plot the trajectory as heading towards Flanoir, half a continent behind you. The shot traveling through the sky leaves an afterimage, though, burning and terrible. And all of you here are not completely unaffected, because the ether that had been gathering around Mithos releases suddenly and crashes down on top of you. Mithos screams, screams like that cannon blast was pulled out of his own veins and not Martel's. The sky-- flickers. It is suddenly night and then it is day and then it is night and then it is--

Sunset, the sky bleeding red from the western horizon, just as it should.

Once you are at the top of the hill, you can see Mithos. He is still screaming, crying like he's incredible pain, blue and green light flickering maddeningly from his core crystal. He's on his knees, heaving and sobbing with the weight of the power that just crashed through him.

Around him, a ring of humans; wary, but all upright, weapons trained on the Aegis. Mithos' hands are bound by chains behind his back. Even if he were not in incredible pain, he does not appear to be in a position to get away.

Edited 2019-07-08 17:58 (UTC)

Kratos does not think, he simply acts. He gathers ether around him, pulling more from the thick ambient ether than the ether in his own veins, because to not use a resource available to him would be absurd. (Mithos' ether is much more powerful than his own, anyway.) The ether gathers, releases, Judgement raining down on the humans that surround Mithos. Tethe'allan troops, not that it matters. Those not killed by the Judgement fall to swift, efficient strokes of Kratos' sword, until he can reach Mithos' side.

"This might hurt," Kratos warns, but Mithos simply nods, so Kratos gathers the ambient ether again, concentrating it on the restraints binding Mithos. The ether cuts through them, releasing Mithos' wrists, and he collapses into Kratos' arms.

He's still sobbing, trembling, clinging to his older brother. "I forgot... how much it hurts..." he laughs, weakly. "I didn't think I could forget."

"You're okay," Kratos whispers, soothing as he holds his brother tight. "It's okay, now--"

"It is," Mithos agrees. He pulls himself away from Kratos a little, though he falls with his head resting against Kratos' knee. He smiles, wide, and brings shaky fingers up to his core crystal. The dull green that has been threaded through it for years now burns, brilliant and glowing and-- "Martel's alive," Mithos says, full of joy that darkens only after a second. "She's alive and they're hurting her."

His other hand grips Kratos' arm, tight and uncomfortable.

"We'll save her," Kratos assures Mithos.

Mithos shakes his head. "Not like this," he says. Kratos squints, but-- The puzzle pieces aren't that difficult to align. Blade eaters share pain because of the shared core crystal, and what is Mithos doing with Martel, right now?

"Mithos..." Kratos begins, not sure how to solve the problem. Mithos is one step ahead of him, though, still smiling.

"It's okay, you're here now," Mithos says, unbothered. "So I can just..."

Ether gathers around his fingertips, around his core crystal. It's a second before Kratos understands, and once he does, panic strikes him.

"Mithos," he says, in warning.

"Kratos, it's okay," Mithos tells him, bright. "It's safe-- it'll be just like before. It's not like I could keep her shards, anyway."

Kratos doesn't have a chance to argue, all he can do is watch as the ether around Mithos gathers, warps, and then--

Mithos' dormant core crystal and a handful of Martel's shards fall into his lap.

Okay, so. It turns out being near such a large discharge of ether sucks, actually. Like a lot. So that's no fun. Anna thinks it might have been somewhat better had Malos not reflexively thrown up a sheild to protect them, but he had, and, well. Aegis ether is Aegis ether, regardless of which Aegis it's coming from, and even if this discharge had not been a blast aimed to hurt, the mere act of that much strength kissing Malos' shield is enough to send him spiralling into sharp panic and overwhelming dread. Anna's so busy choking on it that it takes her some time to even catch up to Kratos, and by the time she has--

Mithos is gone. It's just Kratos, holding a dormant core crystal.

"He'll be fine," Kratos says, and it's kind of like the words go through a kind of filter first, distorted. Anna bites her tongue to see if that helps her see through Malos' panic. Sort of. "Aegises remember, so. He'll just need some time."

"Ah," Anna says, and nothing else.

Kratos looks up at her, then, really meets her eyes. She has trouble holding the gaze. She's-- okay. Malos isn't, though, and it's definitely affecting her. Anna swallows. Kratos' eyes move away form her, considering the rest of their companions. Anna doesn't even have the energy to look, but the decision Kratos makes doesn't take too long, doesn't appear to need her input.

"We should set up camp, so we can rest," he says, getting to his feet, then holds a hand out to Anna. Anna blinks, a little surprised, but he wouldn't offer if he didn't mean it. She takes it, somewhat relieved. It's a welcome anchor.

Kratos hesitates, sending a weighty glance to one of the few not-incinerated corpses that litter the ground around them. "...not here, though. A little further out, if we can manage."

Anna nods numbly, and lets him lead her along, any other input from anyone else a blur in her ears. It's difficult to think about anything other than Malos' panic and Kratos' hand in hers, so she doesn't.

For all that Sheena's prepared to fight, it turns out not to be necessary at all. That's good, because the ether released makes her stumble and choke on it, the weight of it too much to bear. She reaches out in Zelos' direction, not even sure if he's close enough but terrified of being separated from him somehow if she doesn't, like the flow of ether might carry one of them away. By the time she's collected herself enough to regain any awareness of her surroundings, Kratos is cutting down the last of the survivors. She swallows hard, flexes her fingers in an attempt to feel like they belong to her again. It doesn't work very well.

She misses - more than a little of what else happens, really, but she pulls herself to her feet, drifting over towards Lloyd. He'll know what to do. He always does.

"What happened," she manages, forces herself to take stock of what's around them. Okay. No enemies standing. Lloyd's here. Kratos is leading Anna and Malos. She doesn't know where Mithos is, but there must be something she missed, if Kratos doesn't seem as on edge as he had been. Zelos is--

"Zelos?" she calls, realizing he's not at her side anymore. Oh, no. Pushing down thoughts of some missed enemy trying to take him hostage while they'd all been shaking off the ether that had been dropped on them, she turns, anxiety cutting through the haze, as she tries to spot him.

For all that Zelos prides himself in being an Aegis, in being powerful, it still doesn't change the fact that he is artificial, an imperfect replica of godlike power that he was never going to replace no matter how hard he tried to be adequate for. An original's ether release feels a lot like being hit right in the solar plexus, all the air escaping Zelos' lungs and leaving him on his knees again, heaving, hands reaching for his chest as if to try and dislodge the nauseous obstruction of raw power colliding with his self.

Pain, like a waterfall in a still lake, fills him to the brim and disturbs him as soon as Mithos releases his power, as soon as Sylvarant's cannon goes off. Though the cannon shot doesn't even hit anywhere close, Zelos still feels it, feels the way its trajectory curves along the skies and how it makes the earth shake, his mind calculating its destination and power in a matter of seconds. An intrusive numerical death toll estimate flashes behind his eyes. He shuts them tight to rid himself of it, curls into himself, holds his midsection as he tries to regulate his breathing and the shaking of his limbs, the fog in his mind condensing into murky waters that leave his thoughts swimming in the abyss.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the aftershocks pass just about enough for Zelos to inhale deeply and finally not choke on the air, his eyes opening slowly and tentatively to take in the dirt below. He blinks, exhales. Blinks again, raises his head. The sky is back to proper twilight again, cascading its red lights on the massacre surrounding Kratos. Macabre, yet fitting. In his hands Zelos can see the blade is holding a dormant core crystal, no Mithos in sight--and it doesn't take a genius, or even too long, for Zelos to immediately guess what the fuck just happened while he was out here being absolutely useless.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, stop.

Zelos is abruptly hit with the weight of his role in the world, all at once, all of it dropping onto his shoulders as he shakily rises to a stand. The bodies surrounding Kratos are dressed in Tethe'allan military uniforms of varying ranks. It's a sight that Zelos has known since birth, his whole life accompanied by some stuffy general or soldier escorting him places or discussing his use while he didn't have a choice but to comply, his own selfish survival riding on his usefulness and how well he could perform. Absently, emptily, he stares at a captain's corpse. The little blood-splattered insignia on their chest mocks him, a self-loathing sensation of tick-tick-tick-tick-ticking beats crawling up his veins as he stares, mesmerized, horrified, in despair.

Sylvarant has fired at least twice now. Tethe'alla has no Aegis. Tethe'alla's absolutely defenseless. They are desperate.

What they need is a counter, something of equal or better power to turn the war on its head or at least still it once again--they need an Aegis, a weapon. It's war strategy. Mithos' death is proof of that. And Aegis restoration or not, whatever happened here, Zelos' little escapade still cost Mithos his life. It's cost Colette and Martel their freedom and their lives, too. It is all cold, hard facts.

And all the while Zelos is out here parading through the countryside as if he wasn't just as guilty of this as the humans who built and caged them in the first place.

How many people died in that blast? In the last one? This should never have happened. He should never have left Meltokio. He just went ahead and took his freedom without caring of how others would suffer for his selfishness, Aegis and civilian alike.

You're just a dirty coward, aren't you?

Snapping his attention away from Kratos as he helps his wife to stand, Zelos wordlessly turns on his heel and begins to walk to where he knows Tethe'alla to be, over where his guilt will take him.

Zelos is gone.

Zelos is gone.

That fact rolls over Kratos like an ocean wave in winter, chilling him to the very core. Worse still: It took them this long to notice. Kratos runs over the events in his head, wondering where he went wrong, realizes that he likely was too distracted with Mithos once he was within arms reach of his brother to have been sure-- There must have been a soldier he missed, or maybe more out of sight. They must have taken Zelos while none of them were looking.

"I'm going," he says, to Sheena and the rest of the camp, because-- right now, he's the least disoriented of all of them, and really. A handful of Tethe'allan soldiers? As long as he has ether, he can handle that. If anyone follows, he won't stop them, of course, but Anna and Malos don't look like they're going anywhere at least. (Anna asks a quick 'are you sure' and he says he is so she sits back down as Malos apologizes.)

The Aegis' ether signal is like a bonfire, a shining star in the night. If Kratos can still feel him, he can't be far.

To say that Kratos is surprised to eventually find Zelos, some five minutes later, alone? Well that would be an understatement. Why the hell would Zelos just walk of his own free will back in the direction of Tethe'alla? It doesn't make any sense.

"Zelos?" he calls, more confused than accusatory.

If Zelos stops now, for any reason, he will surely realize just what a bad idea this is and hesitate. But it's a necessary sacrifice to make, so he just keeps walking. Keep walking, keep walking, keep walking--chin up, eyes trained forward, hands balled into fists to his sides as he takes step after step back towards Tethe'alla. Zelos lets that ticking in his veins drag him forward, the tick-step-tick-step rhythm the swan's song accompanying the Aegis on his trip.

Walk, walk, walk. He doesn't stop for anything. Or at least not until Kratos calls his name and Zelos falters, determined stride halted by a stab of cold, prickling fear in his core that he desperately hangs onto before it can reach his driver.

This is bad, but. Rooted where he stands Zelos resolves not to turn to look at the blade, since he is well aware that the smug, casual smirk he wants to paint on his own mask is coming out as more as a grimace instead. Uh oh. Well, that's fine; Kratos doesn't need to see him anyway. No one does. No one wants to. And this doesn't change a damn thing, either. Just hurry up and leave, then, Zelos thinks, but he's not sure who that thought is addressing.

He takes a deep breath, laughs. It sounds off even to his ears. What-the-fuck-ever. "What do you want?" he calls back.

Edited 2019-07-18 03:45 (UTC)

Kratos stares at Zelos' back, long shadows cast over the ground before the two of them, the setting sun at Kratos' back. Zelos' hair catches the light and reflects it like a banner.

Zelos sounds... off. Kratos thinks of Zelos' cautious determination the other night, when Zelos had suggested he and Kratos run ahead, alone, when he had asked Kratos to be his driver. Kratos still wonders, briefly, if he gave the wrong answer, especially as Zelos faces Tethe'alla, now.

He considers his next words carefully, but perhaps not carefully enough, because what he lands on is not exactly kind.

"If you're looking to save Colette, you're heading the wrong direction," he says.

Architect, Zelos really doesn't want to be dealing with this right now. Maybe if he'd been faster about it--or if he'd ran instead of walked--then he wouldn't be faced with having to waste time explaining himself to Kratos, but it's not like he gets a say in it anymore as it stands right now. Okay, then. So be it--let's try to shake this damn guy off.

Standing still where he is, his back turned to Kratos, Zelos raises his hands and shrugs. He tries for another laugh and comes up with something darker than he'd intended, most of his emotions too taut and caught in his core for him to keep them off his voice. It's so annoying. Zelos hates it. He swallows them down and just talks. "Change of plans," Zelos says, casually, voice steadier than his laugh. "You're all so slow. I'm going ahead."

This is unnecessary. It's wasting time. He wants to get this over with as soon as possible, so Zelos lowers his hands again and sighs, mentally hyping himself up to take the next step forward, yet failing, the road ahead more and more terrifying the more he lingers where he stands. His hands curl into fists again, the pulse in his ether lines hastened. "Go back to the others," Zelos growls low in the silence. "I don't need you."

Kratos considers Zelos' words, and finds them fair. They are moving slow, and Zelos does not need them to free his sister, though things would likely go a little smoother, a little easier, if he had help with him. Traveling across Sylvarant unguarded and yet still avoiding capture would be difficult. And there is the question of whether or not ZElos is aware of the full extent of his power, besides. After all, if he had wanted to hurry, he would not have walked, he would have flown. (Or were the artificials not blessed with wings as the children of the Architect were?)

"I suppose that's true," Kratos says, standing tall and firm, Zelos' anger parting around him like a stream around a stone. "We are moving slow, and I understand your desire to hurry."

Kratos is usually one to think and overthink things long before he says them, but he is well aware that he does not have this luxury now. He does not quite know what Zelos is planning (though he does have a terrible guess, once he hopes beyond hope has not crossed Zelos' mind) but he is certain that this moment is not one he can fuck up, which creates a tension in his core, a clutch in his heart, because there is no strain like wanting to be careful but not having the time to be.

"But I do see one flaw in your plan," he says, and maybe it's a little sharper than it should be, maybe a little more cruel. "Sylvarant is the other direction. How do you intend to save your sister if you are in Tethe'alla's cannon?"

Actually hearing his plans voiced aloud like this draws a sharp breath that gets stuck in Zelos' artificial lungs, tearing like a knife, rage and fear and despair and a sick hope dancing along in his core until they mesh together into a sickening flame. The air around the Aegis warms considerably. His breathing becomes erratic and he stumbles backwards, fists shaking, until he finally turns on his heel to face Kratos.

Gone is the pretense of keeping up the mask, lowered to make way for the full-brunt of Zelos' anger instead. "That's the fucking point!" Zelos shouts, the prickling tick-tick-tick-tick sensation in his arms almost indistinguishable from his memories of the cannon itself. "If I'm in the fucking cannon, if I make it public that I'm in the cannon, then Sylvarant can't fire back without risking retaliation! Then all you have to do is get Colette and Martel out! Take Mithos somewhere safe! Everyone is fucking happy!"

Except there's a catch, isn't there?

A single miscalculation.

Right as he says that, Zelos is abruptly hit with the realization that his plan would leave him alone inside a cannon, the entire situation right back at square one as an Aegis is once again used to rain war on a defenseless country without one. Zelos would become the threat this time, the idiot who put them all in a cycle of destruction because he couldn't see himself as free. Suddenly, this whole thing feels like a grave mistake. Suddenly, Zelos' anger falters for only a fraction of a second, fear and dread making its way through his expression before he steels it with cold, angry determination.

"You know what I can do if I'm in the cannon?" Zelos slips out, not really thinking, emotional core dragging the words out of him like they're excuses to keep himself in the plan. It works, somewhat, so Zelos smirks, vindictive. "Ha. Ahaha, well, you ever heard of what an amplified, uncontrolled ether discharge can do?"

Kratos flinches, now, in the wake of Zelos' anger, struck with the incredible, ridiculous weight of how stupid everything Zelos just said is. Everyone's happy? Everyone's happy if he's in the cannon? Kratos quite certain Zelos won't be happy in there, and highly doubts there's a single one of their companions who would be happy with this outcome, as well. Does he really think Colette's safety is more important than his own? Does he really rank Mithos above himself? Is Kratos surprised, if he does? (He is not, at least not about Colette. He knows how much Mithos and Martel love each other. That Zelos and Colette are the same is anything but a surprise.)

Still. He starts to speak, to argue the most important thing: that no one wants Zelos in the cannon because they all care about him and his safety, but Zelos does not give Kratos the chance to get even a word out.

Zelos makes his claim, and Kratos' blood runs cold. He thinks-- of Mithos, just minutes ago, a furious but certain voice ringing out: "Put me in the cannon, then! Go on! I'll gladly burn this miserable fucking planet until there's nothing left of it!"

He wonders if Zelos' plans are so lofty, so thorough, so cruel. He does not think so, but he does know what an ether discharge such that Zelos speaks of can do.

"It's suicide, for starters," Kratos says, and saying it, acknowledging that perhaps that's what Zelos wants, makes his insides curdle with dread. "Is that your plan? Killing yourself so they can't use you?"

He shakes his head, anger snapping in his own core, anger because that's not fair, that doesn't fix anything. He's not known Zelos very long, he'll admit, but his heart still aches for the boy, a love quietly burning in his core that if pressed he will guess likely sits in his core for every Aegis, because he knows better than everyone but themselves the struggles of being one, and he knows as well as they do what it is like to be simply seen as a tool and used as such. The fact Zelos would so willingly throw his freedom away boils Kratos' blood more than anything else.

"They will keep using you, though," he argues. "The moment they can wake you up again. Do you want that? Do you want to be used?" And his voice shakes with how much he does not want that for Zelos, affection he is not sure how to express painted in tone. "There are other solutions to this problem, Zelos. You do not have to throw your freedom away."

"You're not fucking getting it, are you?" Zelos spits, the tremble to his voice carefully hidden behind his rage and the heat his ether produces as a result. Zelos scoffs, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "They can't put me in the cannon if I destroy it with me inside it! Hell, if I put my mind to it I can just blow up the entire fucking facility if I want to! One less cannon to worry about!"

Zelos huffs, breathing heavily. Honestly, he would be lying if he didn't admit to the promise of his own demise after he destroys the cannon being the most welcome part of the whole plan, but his fellow Aegises come first. The main idea is to deter Sylvarant by providing Tethe'alla with power, then destabilize Tethe'alla once Kratos and the others have destroyed Sylvarant's cannon, effectively stopping the war once again. Zelos is just a tool in that plan. Dying is simply a bonus.

But Kratos remains standing there, expression firm, not understanding the nuances of Zelos' decision. And how could he, anyway? He is not an Aegis. He doesn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders the same way some rogue bastard Aegis like Zelos does. So "Whatever, it's not like I need you to escort me," Zelos scoffs, then turns on his heel again and walking forward and back home, letting that ticking in his core guide him. "I'll just find a Tethe'allan convoy and let them do the rest."

None of that.

Absolutely none of that.

Kratos gathers ether into his hand, light coalescing into a something like a spear. He throws it at Zelos-- a warning shot that goes by to the right of Zelos' head.

Is it drastic, to resort to force like this? Maybe. But the other option-- Kratos cannot do that. He cannot let Zelos walk away. He cannot.

Is it wrong, to use force like this? Does it make him as bad as the humans who hurt him, who hurt Zelos? Maybe. But at least he won't be shoving Zelos into a cannon.

"I can't let you do that," he says, voice steady, though his hands tremble with the weight of all he feels. "Zelos, I cannot let you throw away your freedom like this."

The ether spear that kisses the air to the right of Zelos' head stops him in his tracks, breath caught in his throat as the shot misses him and lands elsewhere before the Aegis. The air then stills, all of Zelos' body tense as he stares wide-eyed at where Kratos' ether landed, as he takes in the other blade's words.

He doesn't want to let Zelos go? When he's stolen away his freedom selfishly, undeserving of it as he doomed the rest of the world for it? Zelos grits his teeth. Why? Anyone with half a brain would let him go. It's the right thing.

He deserves this.

Zelos turns around again, slowly, face carefully hidden behind a blank mask as he regards Kratos, as he tucks away all his fear to the bottom of his being. A breathless chuckle escapes him. "What, you plan to stop me?" he asks, slowly breaking into a smile that is anything but gentle. "You really think you can take me on?"

Edited 2019-07-18 20:32 (UTC)

"Yes," Kratos says, without hesitation and without fear. He is quite certain, in fact, that he can take Zelos-- or at least, put up a fairly decent fight.

He steadies his stance, summons his sword, the flash of red that accompanies the blade bright and stubborn, stronger than it might be, otherwise. Leftovers of Mithos' discharged ether still sing in his veins, in his core. He pulls on them readily.

"Tell you what," Kratos calls, confident. "If you can defeat me in a fight, I won't stop you. I won't follow you, either, though I cannot make that promise for the rest of our companions. But you have to defeat me, if you want to go."

Edited 2019-07-18 20:52 (UTC)

Kratos sounds so confident, gets into a fighting stance, and just like that Zelos realizes his mistake. Really, he'd been kind of expecting to scare him off just by reminding him he's a fucking Aegis, but. What happens now? Zelos doesn't want to fight Kratos. Quite the opposite, honestly; he'd rather just walk out of here without any more events.

Something nervous squirms in Zelos' core, leaving him glaring and clicking his tongue. Zelos doesn't move. He's frozen in place again, trembling slightly as he tries to maintain eye contact with Kratos. "Don't be stupid and throw your life away like that," Zelos says, calm and collected despite his insides screaming at him to stop with this idiocy. He takes a deep breath and turns away again. "I think you should leave."

If Zelos expected Kratos to be deterred by the mere threat of battling an Aegis, then Zelos has forgotten who exactly Kratos considers his brother. So Zelos' bluff and bluster don't mean much to him, and he pays them hardly any mind. He's confident enough that he could win this fight, and if not, then certainly he will know when to yield before his life is threatened.

The point is not to win, anyway. It is to make sure Zelos is certain, certain that this is a decision he wants to make, is willing to fight for, and not a path he intends to take simply because it is easy.

Kratos gathers his energy and his ether.

Breathes.

Moves.

Light blades have the ability to lean into their element and cross short distances in the blink of the eye, and Kratos uses that to place himself in front of Zelos, now. Once before the Aegis, he holds out his hand and sends a blast of ether at Zelos.

Zelos feels the ether disturbance in the air right before Kratos even appears in front of him, the change alerting him, yet not preparing him for the blast of pure light ether Kratos sends his way next. All Zelos has the time for is a yelp and a raise of his hands, messy and crackling flames dancing on his arms as his sword coalesces in his hands.

He manages to parry the ether blast, hold it against his blade, and then swing it over to the left, releasing all that light off somewhere else away from them both. Growling and with his stance lowered and locked into something more ready for a fight, Zelos then turns his attention back to Kratos, glaring as he passes his sword to his right hand to release his left.

This is ridiculous. "What the fuck are you doing!?" he shouts, gesturing with his free hand. "You're gonna freak everyone back at camp out!"

"As if they have not already been scared shitless by you vanishing," Kratos counters, eyes blazing. He stands, watching Zelos, waiting for an attack he's not entirely sure is coming. "Did you think no one would notice? Did you think no one would miss you? Did you think any one of us would want you to hand yourself over to Tethe'alla?"

He issues those questions, and he waits. He will block Zelos, should Zelos try and go past him, but he does not wish to hurt Zelos unnecessarily.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GvBbbYcD8o

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here comes a special boy!!!!! he's in hell

MITHOS IS /DEAD/

camp segue bitches

Sorry I'm late there was a hostage situation at the Derris Kharbucks

You left on a comet to get coffee?

i mean derris kharbucks DOES have good coffee, i would know

Y'think that's why Kratos left

well, seeing as importing a decent supply of coffee to aselia would be unreasonable, yes

Motherfucker left his son for coffee

coffee never hurt him!!

BUT LLOYD DID?

I MEAN, NO, BUT

THEN WHY'D YOU LEAVE HIM, MAN

LOOK WE AREN'T TALKING ABOUT ME RIGHT NOW WE'RE TALKING ABOUT YOU

WHEN DID I LEAVE FOR COFFEE

ARE YOU NOT LEAVING RIGHT NOW

YES BUT THERE'S NO COFFEE INVOLVED

THERE COULD BE COFFEE INVOLVED

ARE YOU ASKING ME OUT FOR COFFEE?

YES