[ We'll let the turtles be. Truth be told, Clive finds his brother very capable in combat, even if his stamina fails him more often than not. In short bursts, however, he doubts that many of the royal guards could best Joshua in a duel; he's lithe, graceful, and has an instinct for how to avoid danger. A dancer, to Clive's brawler.
But Clive would rather Joshua not fight at all unless absolutely necessary, and he definitely wants to avoid a situation in which Joshua would have to prime, semi or no. Over the years, he's found that the Eikon's curse doesn't affect himself the way it affects Joshua― despite all the times he's let Ifrit out of his cage, the worst Clive has suffered for it is a full-body soreness the next day. No creeping threat of turning to stone, no seizing of the heart. It's reinforced the idea that he was born to fight on Joshua's behalf, to be the sword that won't shatter in his brother's hands.
Which makes it easy for Clive to pull a few stories out of his pocket to tell Joshua as they travel. He starts one― "well, there was the time I accidentally slid off a ledge and fell right on top of a coeurl"― and follows it up with another, each of them blisteringly true, and without boasting or embellishment. He's always liked the way his brother lights up at a good story, and so, towards the tail end of his latest story, Clive reminds himself to buy a few books for Joshua when they reach Oriflamme.
The first leg of their journey goes by without incident. Easy conversation, unchallenging roads. It's when they get closer to the border of Sanbreque that Clive senses something stirring in the thickets ahead of them, which prompts him to stop Ambrosia and hop off of her back, sword drawn. ]
―Bandits, [ he guesses. ] Stay here, Joshua. I'll take care of it.
[ In his urgency, he forgets to call Joshua by his title; at the end of the day, what Clive holds dear is his brother, and not the Archduke of Rosaria. ]
no subject
But Clive would rather Joshua not fight at all unless absolutely necessary, and he definitely wants to avoid a situation in which Joshua would have to prime, semi or no. Over the years, he's found that the Eikon's curse doesn't affect himself the way it affects Joshua― despite all the times he's let Ifrit out of his cage, the worst Clive has suffered for it is a full-body soreness the next day. No creeping threat of turning to stone, no seizing of the heart. It's reinforced the idea that he was born to fight on Joshua's behalf, to be the sword that won't shatter in his brother's hands.
Which makes it easy for Clive to pull a few stories out of his pocket to tell Joshua as they travel. He starts one― "well, there was the time I accidentally slid off a ledge and fell right on top of a coeurl"― and follows it up with another, each of them blisteringly true, and without boasting or embellishment. He's always liked the way his brother lights up at a good story, and so, towards the tail end of his latest story, Clive reminds himself to buy a few books for Joshua when they reach Oriflamme.
The first leg of their journey goes by without incident. Easy conversation, unchallenging roads. It's when they get closer to the border of Sanbreque that Clive senses something stirring in the thickets ahead of them, which prompts him to stop Ambrosia and hop off of her back, sword drawn. ]
―Bandits, [ he guesses. ] Stay here, Joshua. I'll take care of it.
[ In his urgency, he forgets to call Joshua by his title; at the end of the day, what Clive holds dear is his brother, and not the Archduke of Rosaria. ]