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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.]
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.]
somewhere distantly that feels familiar to lloyd but he can't put his finger on it
"No, I think," she says, not having really thought about it much until this moment. Her fighting style isn't much different with or without her cards, but not leaving even a small chance of injuring each other more than a bruise or two seems like the better idea at the moment. She stretches, tensing her muscles a little, and then looks down at her off hand, remembering that Zelos's core crystal is still clutched in it as she runs a thumb over its edge. "I should probably put him down, though," she says, uncertain. Well - there's nowhere really safe for it, but she could let Kratos hold it, maybe? She trusts him with Zelos. She looks over to him, but hesitates rather than approaching to ask.
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She starts to say more-- something unimportant, but closes her mouth the moment Sheena muses about Zelos. Anna blinks in surprise. Has... Sheena really been holding his core crystal this whole time? Not that she blames Sheena, but she's surprised she didn't notice...
Anna keeps her mouth shut, because Sheena's musing felt somewhat rhetorical, and saying something like yeah you probably should would just make Anna kind of an asshole. She turns her attention to Kratos when Sheena does, raising her eyebrows in silent question in a way that - even after five years - they're still capable of doing. (Though, maybe Sheena's own silent question was as loud to Kratos as it was to Anna.) Kratos nods, signs something that might have been "fine by me", and so Anna turns back to Sheena, translating for Kratos:
"Kratos says he can hold onto Zelos, if that's alright with you," Anna says, which isn't exactly what Kratos said, no, but she knows him well enough to know that's pretty close to what he would have said, had he better means of communicating with them right now. Even still, Anna pitches the end of her sentence up in question, looking to Kratos again for confirmation.
Kratos nods, deliberate, his gaze remaining fixed on Sheena.
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Part of her still wants to balk at the idea of putting it down, but - Kratos'll probably keep Zelos safer than she physically can at the moment, even. So she nods in response and makes her way over to where Kratos is sitting, shifting her grip to one end of Zelos's core crystal so he can take it without having to touch her. "Thanks," she says, soft, as she holds it out. "I know he'll be safe with you."
With that safely handed off, she cracks her knuckles in anticipation, stretching her shoulders out a little as she heads back to Anna. "Alright," she calls, stopping a few feet back. "Ready whenever you are?"
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Sheena's way better than Anna had expected, actually, but Sheena has youth and more-recent practice on her side. Not that Anna hasn't been practicing, but she definitely hasn't been doing anything like daily drills, so she's let herself get a little rusty. It's fun, though. She and Sheena tussle until they're both too exhausted to keep going, and Anna accepts the bruises she's probably going to have tomorrow with good cheer as she collapses in the grass. Cross-legged, she rolls out her aching shoulders as she sends a grin Sheena's direction.
"Well, that was fun!" she says, bright. "Thanks, I think I needed that." She tilts her head, curious. "You feeling any better?"
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She's a little disappointed when they stop, honestly, but it is needed. Her Exsphere could give her more power if she needed to keep going, but Anna doesn't have that benefit, and Sheena doesn't need to, so she joins Anna in flopping down to the ground, a little short of breath from that last move she'd tried to pull as she listens.
Nothing's magically fixed itself in the time they'd been sparring, so far as she knows, but, well. She does feel better, she realizes. Like at least some of the weight has been lifted, with the good kind of exhaustion left behind rather than the miserable foggy kind she'd spent too much of the past few days in. "Yeah, I am," she tells Anna, grinning back at her. "Thanks." She leans forward, stretching out her legs in front of her to cool down. "Hey, show me that move you opened with again sometime? It looked really useful."
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mithos why
Since Mithos is avoiding everyone (but especially Anna), by the time everyone's gone to sleep he's flipping idly through one of the books the inn had laying around, not really reading but neither really willing to go to sleep. He doesn't really need the sleep, and he wants to be awake in case Kratos needs him (Kratos probably won't need him) and he doesn't want to run into his father in the dreamspace, either, even though he's pretty sure his father is avoiding him, too (fine by him).
It's some hours into the night when his awareness of Lloyd through their resonance link goes from quiet and dim - since Lloyd was sleeping - into sharp, gripping dread. A nightmare? It must be.
Mithos waits it out for a few minutes, but it doesn't really seem to get any better. In fact it just seems to get worse and worse.
He knows... he knows he promised Lloyd he'd make sure they couldn't accidentally meet in the dreamspace again, and also promised he wouldn't mess around with Lloyd's dreamspace... well, at all, but. He's not sure he can, in good conscious, leave Lloyd stuck in a nightmare that feels this bad when getting in there and then stopping it - and then getting out, if he has to, maybe before Lloyd realizes he was even there? - would be so easy, so fast.
He closes the book, closes his eyes, and then reaches for Lloyd's dreamspace.
killing your first love is fun, friends!
Lloyd stands in a vibrant cloud of green, opening his eyes to the feeling of his sword handles in hands and the knowledge that his traveling party, all of it, is with him. For a moment, there's confidence, a true belief that he can handle what will be thrown at him, that they can do this.
And then something shifts. Blurrily, two figures step away from the center of the cloud, from the rest of the group. The taller figure pulls the shorter one towards them, faces the group, and the image begins to sharpen, the haze of memory making way for the harsh clarity of trauma. The taller figure becomes a man with pale skin, light clothing, and ruby hair, while the shorter becomes a girl with robes of blue and white, shining gold hair almost as distracting as the sword at her throat.
The rest of the Tower of Salvation falls into place around Lloyd and the group as Colette gets caught and sent away, Zelos' grin sharpening into something angry and distant, twisting Lloyd's heart into anguish, ripping a question from his throat, one he never remembers asking but knows he did in the worst of the betrayal: why?!
And then, with a biting, venomous tone, Lloyd gets his answer. "I never could get you to trust me, anyways."
The truth is, Lloyd almost wishes he had taken some terrible wound during their fight. Maybe then it would have distracted from the pain of the toxic shock set into his system, diluted the poison that still runs through his bloodstream. Maybe then he would feel like he walked out of there with the punishment he deserved.
Maybe he wouldn't have walked out of there at all.
Before the Tower of Salvation, Lloyd and Zelos had sparred quite a few times. Before, their battles had been filled with the sounds of their swords clashing, with banter and breathless laughter as they both chased victory in the form of disarming the other. Here, Lloyd is quiet aside from cries of "I don't want to fight you!" and Zelos is loud, letting out a vicious cackle that gives the battle a raging pulse, freezes the way Lloyd's brows knit together in horror and regret. Lloyd fights defensively, tries to convince Zelos that it doesn't have to be like this, but with every plea, Zelos hits harder, swings faster, laughs louder. By the time Lloyd lands his first hit on Zelos, eyes widening as he cuts past Zelos' vest and tank to slice at his side, Lloyd's arms shake with the effort needed to block Zelos' previous strikes.
The battle forces Lloyd to put the majority of his thoughts on the back burner, letting them escape as nothing more tears that well up in his eyes, tears he blinks away before they distort the image of Zelos' attacks. With the first blood, defense is put behind them, Lloyd now having no choice but to strike back with the same force Zelos does. Zelos has patches of skin that are charred from fire magic, knicks and bruises from physical attacks, but Lloyd knows that Zelos has focused on him, and as such, the worst of his wounds are coming from Lloyd's own blades.
It's no surprise, then, that Lloyd lands the final blow. He doesn't even remember what led up to it, doesn't remember how Zelos spun into it, allowing Lloyd's blades full access to the more vulnerable parts of his chest, doesn't remember how Zelos' grin tightened with pain while the rest of him relaxed against it, knowing what he wanted had been accomplished.
What Lloyd does remember is the sickening terror that caused his heart to fall to his stomach, remembers the way his tears finally overflowed down his cheeks, racing past dirt and blood and stinging as they hit his cuts. He remembers letting go of his sword handles as though they had burned through his leather gloves and made his palms welt. He remembers dropping everything to catch Zelos as his legs gave out, gently cradling him close while he lowered them both to the ground, eyes closed shut against the worst of his heartbreak.
A ghost of warmth gently presses itself to his cheek and he opens his eyes again, leaning into Zelos' hand, staring as blood leaks out his chest and stains the pink silk of his vest. Lloyd opens his mouth to ask again, why, but all he can do is mouth it, no sound coming out.
And then Zelos chuckles, something tired but satisfied. "It's okay. To tell you the truth, I was getting tired of living anyways."
A sob rips itself from Lloyd's throat at that, causing him to sleep, head hung, tears falling and landing on Zelos' weak body, but he can barely bring himself to breathe, let alone try and compose himself. Who could blame Zelos, after everything he had been through, for wanting this? Who could blame him after his heart was thrown back into his face by the person he thought he could trust?
Lloyd did this. He's the reason it ended up like this.
Zelos drops his hand, and Lloyd wants to selfishly chase it, to press it against his cheek again, but he doesn't. He shouldn't be holding him like this, not after what he's done, but like hell will he let Zelos die on the cold floor. It wouldn't be right.
Zelos coughs, blood forcing its way up from his throat and past his lips, and Lloyd feels some splatter his face. It can join the blood that's staining his hands, his pants, his entire body. Zelos tells them of Colette's location, tells them what's needed to be done, but Lloyd hardly pays attention, wallowing in so much misery it's like the world around him no longer matters. The man he loves is dying in his arms, and nobody is to blame but Lloyd himself.
Once the instructions are given, Zelos lowers his voice, whispers as though he only wants Lloyd to hear: "You can drop the act, now."
Hope and his ability to speak aren't the only things that leave Lloyd when Zelos closes his eyes and takes his last breath, but there is no bringing back the dead, so Lloyd bows his head further, holding Zelos' body close, and presses a kiss to his forehead, allowing himself to selfishly grieve a man he killed. The fact that Zelos died thinking Lloyd didn't care about him or anything he had gone through leaves emptiness behind in Lloyd's shattered heart, and he lets himself drown in it, knowing that for all he wants to lie down next to Zelos' body and just stop, he cannot and will not be allowed to stay for too long.
But for now, maybe he can mourn the loss of someone he will never be able to make things up to.
ARE YOU KIDDING THIS IS HORRIBLE!
Mithos knows nightmares, he knows because he spent centuries wading through Kratos', Martel's, his own. He knows that there is no reason for Lloyd to share any nightmares with his family, and yet stumbling into a nightmare so vastly different than ones he has encountered before (usually, harsh neon lights illuminating bound wrists and wires plugged in to burning skin) still causes him to flounder for a few moments more than he should as he tries to take it all in. A place he recalls vaguely from having sifted through Lloyd's memories before. The singing ring of metal on metal, sword on sword, dread so thick in the air he can taste it, and--
Then it all stops, image caught for an eternity on Lloyd's swords slicing through tender flesh. Zelos' frame, illuminated by dissipating orange wings. Horror and regret on Lloyd's face. Horror that grips the very dreamspace, chokes all air out of Mithos' lungs.
He knows when a nightmare is more than just a nightmare.
He knows when a nightmare is more like a memory.
Lloyd killed Zelos.
Time passes strangely in dreams, so it could have been an instant or it could have been an eternity that Mithos stood there, trying to take in the truth and also the weight of Lloyd cradling Zelos as he died. Zelos - another Zelos - the Zelos that Lloyd knew, from his world - even though Mithos sees Zelos and thinks of the nervous artificial Aegis - sees Zelos and thinks of a moment they shared just before he died, consumed by his own ether - eyes far away but body relaxing as Mithos sang a cautious, soothing tune --
Mithos fumblingly grabs hold control of the dreamspace and wills it all to stop.
No Zelos. No Tower of Salvation. No blood on Lloyd's clothes.
A cold cradle of endless white, replaced habitually with a room from the Tower - Mithos' Tower - the Tower he calls home, a bedroom that might be Kratos' or it might be Mithos', it doesn't matter. Mithos realizes after the image has settled that Lloyd is not Kratos, and that the endless white would have only set Kratos on edge, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter.
Mithos sits down on the ground near Lloyd, not too close, but close enough that Lloyd could touch him, if he wanted. If he wanted.
"Sorry," Mithos says, after a moment or two, hopefully long enough for Lloyd to have realized what has happened, to have realized this was only a dream. A dream that Mithos has invaded, reshaped. "I know... you didn't want me in here. But I didn't want to leave you to a nightmare if I could stop it. I just... I was a little too slow. Sorry. I wish I'd gotten here sooner. Then I could have stopped it, before... Before..."
He can't say it. He tries not to think of Zelos, bleeding crimson.
DID I SAY FUN, I MEANT TRAUMATIZING
He should answer the Aegis, he knows, reassure him that he's not mad, that frankly, he appreciates his interference in the first place, but the problem with this memory is that knowing it is only a nightmare does not make coping any easier. In fact, knowing that Lloyd won't wake up to Zelos being alive and well only makes it harder, the knowledge that yeah, that happened, and there's no going back from it working against the few coping methods Lloyd does have.
So instead of answering, Lloyd pulls his knees to his chest, folds his arms over them, and hides his face as he cries.
He wants to be embarrassed, all things considered, of crying in front of the blade he shares resonance with, of not being able to talk either in real life or even in a dream, of being quite useless, in the grand scheme of things, but the corpse of the man he loved haunts him, the ghost of his hand on Lloyd's cheek and the whisper of "you can drop the act, now" forcing him into a spiral of thoughts that snake around his heart and squeeze until he thinks it'll stop beating.
Lloyd isn't sure how long it takes until he's able to stop crying, doesn't know how long it takes until his eyes can no longer cry, but eventually his shoulders stop shaking with the force of his silent sobs and all that's left is his red face, bloodshot eyes, and a chest that's wracked with hiccups. And once he calms down from the worst of that, he finally pushes his head back up from behind his arms and stares blankly ahead, refusing to look at Mithos.
"Thank you," he manages to say aloud, voice quiet and rough, "sorry you had to see all of that."
CLEARLY! I'M FILING A COMPLAINT
He doesn't know what to think about first, what to unpack. His driver, a murderer...? But from what glimpses he saw, Mithos knows Zelos started that fight. Zelos made his choice. A death in battle is much, much different than something pre-mediated, pre-determined. Lloyd is a killer, but not a murderer.
Not that that stops the grief Lloyd feels from sliding down Mithos' throat and choking his lungs. Whoever Zelos was to Lloyd... he was someone important. The fireflies around Mithos flicker, wingbeats faltering for a moment, as Mithos tries to imagine that grief, rationalize it within his own mind, but can't even come close, can only understand the grief that sits heavy on his tongue.
Lloyd speaks, finally, and Mithos winces at how clearly Lloyd's body does not want him to speak.
"It's fine," Mithos says, frustrated, uncomfortable. "I was the one who walked in here. You don't have to apologize for that."
He fidgets, a little. Fireflies flicker around them, yellow, orange.
Mithos swallows. He has questions, but everything he really needs to know about this situation, he already knows. And he's not completely dumb, he knows that now's the absolute worst time to ask Lloyd anything pressing. So:
"Is there anything I can do?" Mithos asks, quiet. And then: "...do you want me to go? If I leave, you should stay lucid in the dreamspace. No more nightmares then, at least. Not unless you ask for them."
WHO ARE YOU GONNA FILE A COMPLAINT TO, THE "MURDER OF JRPG LOVE INTERESTS" BOARD??
"It's okay," Lloyd says, after a few moments of silence, quickly glancing at Mithos with a weak, close-mouthed smile. "You can stay. Up to you."
And then he hums, relaxing his posture enough to bounce his right leg. Chances are, Mithos had seen everything, and terror grips at Lloyd just enough to worry about what that could mean for what Mithos thinks of his driver. Does he think of him as a murderer? It's not like he'd be wrong. It's not like it's far from what Lloyd thinks of himself.
And to see Lloyd kill the reflection of an Aegis in this world... If Mithos didn't trust Lloyd after this, Lloyd wouldn't blame him. Maybe he should offer to give up resonance. But for now, Lloyd can at least offer up answers to questions Mithos might have.
"You... Probably have questions. You can ask. I won't mind."
NO I'M FILING A COMPLAINT TO GOD!!!!!!! WHY DOES HE ALLOW SUFFERING!!!!!!
"No, I think I saw everything I needed to see," Mithos says in response to Lloyd's offer to answer questions. He has very few questions left, very few that wouldn't be highly pointless to ask. "What's there left to know? He betrayed you. You didn't have much of a choice..."
The grief that doesn't belong to him still sits on Mithos' tongue, heavy and thick. Mithos still wishes he understood it. He's never had someone close to him betray him like that - no one except his father, but even that is a betrayal of a different sort. And certainly he's never had to fight anyone he...
Mithos pauses, fixing his eyes on Lloyd; curious, head tilted to the side.
"...did you love him?" he asks, quietly.
FUCK I FORGOT TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT but good point, @ origin what's your deal
Maybe he had always hated Lloyd. Maybe, some part of Lloyd's mind wanders, searching desperately for a reason why Zelos would have wanted this, he only got close to Lloyd to gain information from him easier. (Lloyd knows, in his heart, that that isn't true. Lloyd had a chance and he blew it.)
So instead, he continues listening to Mithos. And the thing is, Lloyd knew that as soon as he opened up for questions, his relationship with Zelos was going to be brought up, obvious as it is that what Zelos and Lloyd had was something a little deeper than friendship but exactly explored, not before Zelos' death at Lloyd's hands. But something still forces Lloyd to freeze when Mithos asks, bluntly, if Lloyd had loved him. Maybe it's the fact that Lloyd's never admitted to it out loud before - (everyone in the party just knew) - or maybe it's because he's talking to Mithos, who knows this world's Zelos. But either way, he sits, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and answers honestly.
"I loved him more than I can describe," he says, blinking, forcing himself to speak the truth of what he had been grieving about for months on end. "And for a bit, there, I thought… I thought we might have had a chance."
I WISH I KNEW
(Lloyd's human, too, though. Isn't he?)
Mithos takes his disgust in his hands and bottles it up, smothers it, so Lloyd cannot feel it. To bring it up while Lloyd is grieving would be an asshole move at best. He's glad he knows, because it gives him more clarity on the situation, but a part of him still wishes he hadn't asked.
"Well," he says, again. His mouth feels dry, even though things like that are just abstractions in dreams. He doesn't really know what to say. "I'm sorry that... that that happened to you. I'm sorry things didn't work out."
He doesn't know how to comfort someone who's grieving, really. It's been so long he's forgotten how he and Kratos managed, when Martel died. And when Anna died - when they thought Anna had died--
Oh.
Mithos... is just as guilty as Lloyd is, isn't he? Worse than that. Lloyd killed in battle, but Mithos plotted, planned, snuck behind Kratos' back, and then--
He killed Zelos, too.
The cannon stopped firing before Mithos told it to, because it's power source had suddenly stopped. Because Zelos had died. Because--
Feeling shaky, Mithos laughs once, short and startled and desperately trying not to think about the weight of that. He grabs the guilt and the horror and bottles it up. Wraps his fingers iron-tight around the dreamspace so it cannot paint another image than it is painting right now. He can't let anyone know. He can't let anyone know, not ever, because if anyone finds out no one is ever going to forgive him.
"A- Anyway," Mithos says, forcing his tone to be bright. "Sorry. I don't have any advice, or anything, but I have a really, really stupid question. Zelos had... wings. Is that normal for humans, in your world? Here, only Aegises-- well, and Father, I suppose. I've seen him with wings a few times before too, but he's - honestly I don't think he's human."
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"They're not exactly normal, no," Lloyd states, not really wanting to explain the bullshit of Cruxis Crystals and exspheres and every shitty thing that's ruined his life but knowing he shouldn't really avoid the topic here, now, whatever. At the very least, switching to this subject takes his mind off of the previous, shittier topic of Zelos' death. "In my world, there are these stones - not really core crystals, but... They're called exspheres and Cruxis Crystals. They both offer strength and just generally better senses and shit, but Cruxis Crystals are different. They turn people into what we call Angels. Beings with incredible powers and stuff like wings."
Lloyd sighs, exhaling loud and raising his left arm to bring Mithos' attention to his hand, where the key crest lays embedded. "I have a... Mine was an exsphere, and eventually I gained powers like an angels, so technically, it became a Cruxis Crystal. Sheena has an exsphere too. Exspheres aren't uncommon in our world, but they suck, so I was trying to find a way to collect and destroy them before I found my way here. Cruxis Crystals, on the other hand... Those are incredibly rare. Only a handful of people have them, and Zelos was one of them."
Something of what Mithos says sticks to the forefront of Lloyd's mind, though. Lloyd had been running under the idea that this world's Origin - the Architect, whatever - was just going to be a reflection of his own. But Aselia's Origin doesn't have wings - or at least, not any like Zelos' or Mithos'. And Origin is definitively not human, not unless you call having four arms human, so Lloyd's left wondering this: If the Architect isn't a reflection of Aselia's, then who is Origin to this world?
"What... What did his wings look like?" Lloyd questions, trying to put together an image of a god he doesn't know in his head. "Our Origin - our Architect, I guess - didn't really have wings, but he had four arms and blonde hair. Does yours look like that?"
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"What?" he laughs, taken off guard by Lloyd's question. "No, no. Father, he... I don't know. He's not that special at all, I think, not in how he looks. If I didn't know he was who he was, if I hadn't watched him create the world, I'd probably tell you he was just any old human."
Well, actually.
"Minus the wings, of course. And he reeks of ether in ways that-- you and Sheena are the only other humans I've met who have ether levels that high. It's weird."
Caught up in his thoughts, Mithos keeps talking.
"In fact, when I resonated with you," Mithos says, "for a second your ether signatures felt the same. Yours and Father's, I mean. That's why I picked up, even though you weren't Kratos - it caught me off guard."
God i’m so sad i lost the og tag and it was so good
The Architect of this world, having a similar ether signature to Sheena and especially Lloyd? Fucking weird, and Lloyd’s brows furrow in confusion as he tries to process that. Lloyd’s not even an actual blade, so the idea of this world’s Origin having a similar signature boggles his mind. Hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch at his head as he tries to understand what he’s been told, Lloyd finds himself sorting through what he knows to find out just who this world’s Architect could be a reflection of in his world.
He starts off by narrowing down the options. Whoever the Architect is, he’s obviously male or male presenting. Human looking, too, so that strikes out any elves - but, Lloyd catches itself: he created this world. He has to be immortal in that case then, right?
So maybe he’s the reflection of an angel. Lloyd lists off the male angels he’s fought off - mostly rookies, and it obviously can’t be Mithos, Zelos, or Kratos, given how he’s met them in this world already, and they were all some type of blade. Yuan, maybe...?
Lloyd grimaces. Yuan, a god? Nah. No thanks. Besides, Lloyd knows his uncle, and beyond all of his eccentrics, Yuan wouldn’t allow for a system this corrupt and abusive to exist when he has the power to fix it. So Lloyd would bet money it wasn’t him.
Remiel, maybe? No. No, Remiel was obviously a half-elf. He can’t have been it.
With a pout, Lloyd starts drumming his hands on his thighs, lost in thought. Who else could it be then? Maybe someone who hadn’t posed a threat on his Aselia? Maybe somebody entirely new?
But... the ether signature. That feels really important.
Lloyd glances over at his Cruxis Crystal. Sheena’s ether signature felt similar, while Lloyd’s felt the same for a moment. The Architect looks like an old man, according to Mithos, with wings like his and Zelos’, not to mention an ether signature unlike a blade’s or an Aegis’, if it feels like Lloyd’s. So whoever it is, he must have some sort of prototype Cruxis Crystal or core crystal, something older and not yet optimized.
But Lloyd’s Cruxis Crystal is made to absorb mana. Lloyd had always assumed that’s why his ether signature felt so different to blades.
Could the Architect... Could he have a Cruxis Crystal? Could he somehow have gotten his hand on one?
Eyes widening, Lloyd lands on a thought. What if, somehow, the Architect is from his Aselia?
But that can’t be possible, right? Lloyd and the rest of the party had - for all intents and purposes - exiled the rest of the angels on Derris-Kharlan. And space travel wasn’t really a thing, not unless you count traveling on a comet space travel. And aside from his own, no other exsphere has ever evolved into a Cruxis Crystal over a natural series of events...
Maybe one of the angels that got exiled had something to do with this. But what happened to the others? And why would the angels make a world unlike the city of Welgaia had been, emotionless, cold, distant, but incorruptible?
So, old man, had wings, looked human, somehow lived forever. Under the hypothetical assumption that they have a Cruxis Crystal, came from Aselia, and left on Derris-Kharlan, Lloyd can knock the possibilities down to a few possibilities, including...
No. He wouldn’t. He fought Mithos with the rest of them at the end of their battles, he wouldn’t create a world just as corrupt. Not while knowing about the struggles of those who suffered back home.
But then, who else could it be?
Now bouncing his legs again, Lloyd takes another mental list, this time adding in himself. He fits the characteristics - (minus being old, thank you, but let’s assume this Lloyd or whatever is old as fuck because time differences) - and for a moment, Lloyd feels dread settle in at the idea of him somehow having caused all of this, but. Lloyd had every plan to shatter his Cruxis Crystal as soon as every other exsphere was captured, and that was never going to change. He wouldn’t ever let Anna’s soul be trapped for that long. Nor would he allow a corrupt system like the blade system exist. And that still doesn’t answer the question of how he would travel through space in the first place.
So, Lloyd sighs. We’re back at square one.
“That is weird,” Lloyd says, finally pulling himself out of his thoughts. “The only real explanation I can give you is that maybe whoever the Architect is, they have a prototype core crystal or something. Maybe it feeds off of mana instead of ether, like my Cruxis Crystal does.”
curb your enthusiasm but it transforms into kaine salvation i have just created a terrible shitpost
But then Lloyd sighs, shifts like he's got a thought, and Mithos shuts himself up even though the tune plays on loop in his mind, listening to what Lloyd has to say.
It's irritating, a little. "That's not how core crystals work, and I don't remember Father making any prototypes," Mithos spits - not with any real venom, just his usual annoyance. He doesn't remember his Father having a crystal at all, except for whatever he was powering the blade network with, but... Honestly it doesn't matter.
"It's just weird, I'm not worried about it," Mithos says, sighing. "If I really want an answer, I can just ask Father myself."
He looks to Lloyd more seriously, here. "Anyway... what do you want to do now? It's your dream, so..." He wants to ask Lloyd if he's okay, honestly, after that nightmare, but with the subject changed and Lloyd distracted maybe that's not a good idea? "Well. I can wake us both up, or I can stay for a little while if you want me to. Whatever, uh..." He swallows. "Whatever you want, I guess."
He turns away from Lloyd here, embarrassed and trying not to show how out of his element he is. He hums the tune again, just a bar or two, as he waits for Lloyd to answer because it will not leave his head.
AND SHIT HITS THE FAN
Seems like it annoys Mithos, though, so Lloyd tries his best to not let his thoughts completely take him away this time, listening to what it is that Mithos has to say as a response. Well, if the Architect had never made a prototype, than who's to say that Lloyd's anywhere close to correct to begin with? Without a Cruxis Crystal, or some sort of different core crystal, maybe Lloyd's just making shit up, thinking too hard about -
That song. Lloyd blinks, knowing it from somewhere, knowing it from someone, a voice distant and quiet but no less audible, ancient words spilling from the lips of someone holding him close. He remembers warmth and melancholy, remembers a calming smile that looked down at him as sleep began to claim him. But that can't - that song was ancient elvish, right? And - and this world doesn't have elves, has never even heard of them as a collective race.
So how does Mithos know it? Know those words?
Completely ignoring what Mithos asks about the dreamscape, Lloyd turns his whole body to face him correctly, staring at him with a shocked expression carried across by disbelieving eyes. "Who taught you that song?!"
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Is Mithos embarrassed? Oh definitely. Other than Zelos, the other day, Kratos and Presea are the only two people who Mithos has sung around before - well, and Martel and Father, but that was years and years and years ago - so... Well, it's fine, but he's flustered. He also doesn't understand why Lloyd suddenly cares so much.
"I don't think the words mean anything," Mithos continues blabbering, still nervous. "Or if they did, I could never get Father to explain, but. I couldn't get Father to explain a lot of things, really. It took me forever to even convince him to teach me the song to begin with." He squints, then. "Why? Do you know it?"
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The Architect, an immortal, yet human-like being with wings. The Architect, with power thought almighty yet too similar to what Lloyd has seen. The Architect, who somehow found himself adrift in space, in a plain yet to be tilled and cultivated. The Architect, who must have existed for thousands of years on Lloyd's world if he knew the lyrics to a song otherwise lost to time. A song sang to Lloyd when he was only a toddler. A song almost no one alive knew.
The Architect. Almost certainly an angel, almost certainly a man. Almost certainly Kratos Aurion, a man Lloyd thought lost forever.
The realization sinks into Lloyd's mind at once, a freezing cold hand clawing at his heart and squeezing it until he can no longer breathe. He shuts his eyes shut, curling in on himself once more. Kratos, the Architect. Kratos, his father, a god, capable of life and everything he's created on this reflection of his world. If Lloyd thinks about it, it all makes sense - it makes so much sense. The reflections of Anna, Mithos, Martel, the trauma inflicted on Colette, on Zelos, all out of some concept of power and survival - it all makes sense.
And maybe, just maybe, that's why it doesn't take long for the frost biting at Lloyd's heart in the midst of such a devastating revelation to melt away in the presence of a wave of molten fury. A world born from another's suffering, cursed to an equal or worse fate - haven't they suffered enough? Lloyd thinks, lips pulling back into a snarl, haven't the injustices and power imbalances and countless deaths been enough? Lloyd fought with everything he had, gave so much, just to put an end to a corrupt system that had thoroughly ruined not only his life, but the lives of so many others, a system his father, Kratos, The Architect had willingly perpetuated. And for what? So his father could run away and create a world with just as broken a system?
Lloyd is not a hateful person. He doesn't take joy in hating others, in hating what they do. But for once in his life, he hates Kratos, is ashamed to call him his father.
Fists clenched tight, Lloyd forces hot air out of his mouth through his teeth, nearly hissing as he attempts to process what he feels and what he knows. He's forcing himself to look away from Mithos again, forcing himself to stay sitting, though all he wants to do is through himself at the nearest training dummy and slash it to pieces, though the dreamscape becomes cloudy with gray clouds, lightning flashing as thunder roars.
"I think I know exactly who the Architect is," he finally bites out. "His name is Kratos Aurion, and he is my father."
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That was not even close to the answer Mithos was expecting.
"K- Kratos?" he repeats, and he laughs, startled. "Th- that's absurd!" Mithos stammers out around hiccups of laughter. That's not just absurd, it's impossible. Lightning cracks offset to Mithos' laughter, rain falling from a black sky as the dream loses hold of any real shape in Mithos' horror. "That's-- That's--!"
But Mithos remembers the converastion he had with his father, just the other night. He remembers his father's eyes, red like Kratos', shaped like Kratos'. He remembers - now that he thinks about it, he remembers that that's not all his father shares with Kratos, is it? Sometimes the cadence of his voice, the downcast of his eyes, the simple little tics of his mannerisms. The way Kratos and his father both freeze up and go rigid when they have to talk about something they don't want to explain.
And the fact his father never once talked about his past, as if he had something to hide.
Of course he had something to hide, if he was this Lloyd's father. Of course he had something to hide if - as everyone has told Mithos - he ran away from his son, after he left it to his son to kill his brother, ran away into the cold
expanse
of space.
Mithos rakes his hands through his hair, slow and horrified. It fits. He hates that it fits.
He's furious, he hates it with every inch of his being. He tugs at his hair as the thunder rumbles around them, the dreamspace dark and cold, rain pouring even if it does not actually touch Mithos or Lloyd. Mithos tugs at his hair, choking down his loathing and trying to breathe around Lloyd's fury, and--
"Are you sure?" Mithos croaks, even though he's pretty sure. "Are you- that doesn't--" All the pieces line up, and he cannot deny them. But that doesn't mean he has to like them. And it certainly does not mean he understands them. "Why would he-- HOW did he--!?"
He looks to Lloyd, helplessly.
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Mithos doesn’t deserve the brunt of it. It’s not his fault his father has thoroughly ruined their lives.
“At the end of the journey I went on back home,” Lloyd starts, exhaling hard to release some of the tension building up in his body, audible in the tone of his voice, “Kratos left. As in he left the planet. There was a comet named Derris-Kharlan, and he said it was his duty to take it away and find a new place for it.”
Lloyd laughs, something low and sick. “I thought he was going to eventually settle down on another planet. I didn’t think he’d fucking decide to make one. Where he got that power, I don’t know. All I know is that he was one of the three other people on my home planet that knew that song, that was an angel, and that he was the only one who was able to leave for space.”
He pops open the first button on his coat and reaches for the locket strung around his neck, being careful to keep the ring hanging from the chain hidden in his palm, and stares at it, sneering. “So much for honoring my mother’s memory,” Lloyd says, “he made a mockery of her suffering.”
THE IRONY OF THIS TAG....... VS THIS URL..............
Mithos sits with his face in his hands, pressed against raised knees, trembling, trying to swallow both Lloyd's fury and his own.
His feelings about Lloyd's Kratos were already complicated, as were his feelings about his own Father. To know that they're the same person....
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Mithos mumbles, into his hands. If he lifts his head, Lloyd will see the hot tears that streak his cheeks. The dreamspace removes any chance of his voice not carrying to be heard, at least. "If I--" He laughs, angry, sick. "If I had any delusions about Father loving me... Of course he doesn't love me. He couldn't even love you."
[Ironic starts playing vaguely in the distance to the instrumental of curb your enthusiasm]
curb your irony
Brought to you by the Apollo Justice OST
thank you apollo justice
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Hey what's up guys, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated
WHAT'S UP CAN I GET OUT OF HERE
DON'T THINK SO ALSO I REALLY DID MAKE HER WAIT AND HOPE
IT'S FINE IT'S FINE
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(no subject)
The idea that Kainé Salvation is playing through this is killing me actually
no one in this thread can keep any fucking dignity
Zelos has been dead for five slutty, slutty months
it's less than a year this time! it's fine!!!
HE STILL WAS DEAD AND SO WAS I
AAAAAAAAA
[Returns a month later with Starbucks] You like jazz?
I like trains
[GETS RUN OVER BY A TRAIN AND DIES AGAIN]
NOOOOOOOOO
WHAT'S UP I FINALLY HAVE SPOONS, WANT SOME