[She eyes his hand as she follows along, trying to make sure her skirts don't catch on anything. With a smile, she takes it. Whether she needs it to keep her actual balance or because she simply wants to hold his hand is really anyone's guess. The likelihood is that it's a bit of both.
Her expression is, as it sometimes can be in Clive's presence, a little sheepish. Maybe even goofy. Aerith is often full of wonder and life and humour, trying to add a little touch of levity into the world where she can. This moment is scarcely any different. In fact, it seems to be the side of herself that she prefers to share with everyone else.
As she steps after, using his hold to maintain her until she can more properly join him, she listens attentively, little shifts in the features of her face as he continues. Surprise. Awe. An amalgamation rainbow of many things. How exciting it must have been to be on an airship.
Well.
Until it went down, of course. There is something to be said about competition and ambition. By the end of it, she looks sympathetic. Somehow there are always innocents stuck in the world paying the price for captains and authority figures. She's not sure humanity has completely learned that lesson just yet. Or... maybe some of them just don't care. That's more probable.]
Oh... [She finally manages to say, her voice still touched with wonder and a characteristic imagination.] I wonder how many people at the hideaway know about that. All I knew was that it was an old ship. Surely when it landed originally— [Crashed, more like.] —the lake wasn't here. Or maybe it was all pure water.
[With a tilt of her head, Aerith squeezed Clive's hand.] The blight here is bad, isn't it. Was it like that when you were younger, too?
[ Most stories that have persisted about the Fallen have turned into parables and cautionary tales about the dangers of hubris, and the story of the Invincible is no exception. Clive watches Aerith watch him, steadying his grip in her hand as they cut across tall grass and soft ground towards the terraced hills of the Orabelle Downs. ]
I'm not sure about the lake― they say it was formed when a great dragon fell from the skies and created the basin upon impact. Whether the dragon came first or the airships did, it's hard to know.
[ They walk, and trees give way to a sloped clearing flooded with warm midday light. On either side of a main path that cuts through the middle of the clearing are well-maintained bushes arranged in neat rows, fenced and segmented by a careful hand; on the top of the hill overlooking the greenery are quaint houses fashioned in stone and wood, rustic and weathered but persisting.
Speaking of persisting, though. ]
...No. There was still much more greenery when I was a boy. I remember looking out from the ramparts of Castle Rosalith and seeing an expanse of life stretching far beyond, as far as the eye could see.
[ A wistful, melancholy half-smile. ]
Father had said that the Blight was creeping inwards, but I had no idea how close it'd come.
[Aerith is still wide-eyed and curious, wondering if these stories are exactly that—stories. She likes hearing about them, but there's no doubting that sometimes these kinds of things are just the tales parents tell their kids late at night when they're getting ready to rest.
Apparently that kind of thing is still quite effective on her. Or maybe Aerith has had a lack of stories told to her. Or maybe all of life feels like a story.]
Must have been a very, very impressive dragon.
[Massively so, even. That lake is huge.
When Clive talks about Rosalith, she listens intently, green eyes fixed on him attentively. Part of her is trying to imagine it. The thought of an excess of life leaves her warm. Will they ever see life like that return? She'd like that, but... Once again, that's complicated. She knows that it is.]
I don't think the Blight really takes into account where people are. Where animals are. It probably doesn't have the ability to think like that. [It's not as if it has sentience. It's a byproduct. It's a repercussion for something that shouldn't be. It's a consequence for luxury, perhaps, and irresponsibility in some cases.] I'm glad that not all places are taken by it, though. Things here feel a lot more full of hope. Ash is... it's really barren and empty. It looks so sad by comparison.
[It looks dead, honestly, but she doesn't have the heart to say it like that.]
[ Her assessment about the size of the dragon is met with an uptick of one brow, as coy as Clive can ever get. As if to suggest that yes, dragons really can get that big, though it's not like he's ever seen one quite as large as one that would have made a lake the size of Bennumere.
Moving swiftly on, though. He glances down at Aerith and her wide-eyed focus, and fancies that the emerald of her gaze looks even deeper in the company of their verdant surroundings. ]
We would have been far luckier if the Blight operated on some system of mercy. [ Not quite bitter, but in the sort of tone that suggests that the slow death of their planet has taken far too much from the people he cares about. It's tempered, however, by Aerith's somber observation about Ash, and he shifts to accommodate it. ]
...Though, you're right. I suppose Storm has been more blessed than Ash. [ A pause, as he sidesteps a particularly soft patch of dirt and leads Aerith away from it, not wanting her shoes to get too muddy. ] Though I can't say that I know much about that side of the Twins. Even my father didn't speak much of Ash, or of its king.
[Aerith shakes her head, seemingly apologetic.] It's not a competition. The Blight is bad, no matter where it is. No matter what it touches. The outcome ends up the same. Just because I get filled with wonder every time I see a place like this doesn't make it any better.
[The thought of Storm becoming just as empty as Ash is... It's terrifying, really. It's awful and horrible. Aerith wants every single overgrown place to continue being overgrown. She wants the people to have marshlands and vineyards and forests and real lakes filled with fish and potable water.]
Ash is... History books say that before Waloed was established that it was ruled by the Kingdom of Veldermarke. There were great battles that left their mark and the Blight was the result. There was another crystal on the continent, but when all of the aether was depleted, it shattered. That all happened before I was born, though. It must have been beautiful once upon a time, but the Ash I've known has never been like that.
[And Barnabas Tharmr... There are no shortage of stories about him. About some of the unique individuals and beliefs that are sometimes spread through the region. Aerith doesn't look like she knows what to make of them. There is, perhaps, a degree of truth in the folklore and myths that supposedly were left behind in aeons that long preceded them.
Harpocrates would likely know more.]
Your father was probably right not to say much of it. Ash's king is a... strange and intimidating man.
[ She speaks of Ash with wistfulness－ or, well, Clive thinks so, at least. With the sort of lingering hope that it might have been more, or might become more yet. A home that she can't return to, not in its current state, not as it stands.
Vestiges of wishes, untransferable. I shouldn't do that, she says, and Clive thinks he understands: there's a version of Rosaria that he wishes still existed, but it isn't productive to reflect on that while he looks at Rosaria now. What they can do, together, is see what can be done from here on out.
He squeezes her hand. It's a feeling he enjoys. ]
We might venture there one day. Ash, I mean. And when all of this is done, we might make a garden of it yet.
[ There, a little hope, before his expression pulls into tense neutral at the mention of Waloed's elusive king. ]
―If the strange and intimidating king allows it. If he remains on his throne when the last crystal shatters, that is.
[ Clive harbors no illusions about the current world order when they're free of the Mothercrystals. Equality will bring about discontent with the old; Barnabas Tharmr, a man who built his name on sword and steel, doesn't seem a man who can lead a nation in peacetime. ]
[He squeezes her hand and wherever Aerith has threatened to go returns right there to that moment. To him. She is coming to appreciate that a great deal.]
That would be nice, wouldn't it. If the entire continent, this one, and that one, could have no shortage of gardens. But that sounds expected. [She grins.] I dream of a world of flowers and draping trees and clear water, juicy fruits, and rich, vibrant vegetables.
[Her attention turns a little when Clive makes mention of the last crystal. It's the way he puts it. She doesn't ask it outright, but her gaze does. He has a plan. He's just following through with the steps. If she hadn't arrived in Storm, if she hadn't been rescued by Cid those years before, would their paths have crossed in Ash? Maybe it wouldn't have been in the same way.]
You're planning to go to Ash anyway. [It's not even a question. Just an observation.] Eventually. It sounds like you have this all planned out. I guess that would be important. Better to have a direction to go in than the alternative.
[She can't help wondering when that might be. Every time a crystal shatters, Aerith can't explain it, but something feels... off. Wrong. It is nearly bittersweet. And a part of her almost feels like she is losing a part of herself. But all of that sounds ridiculous.]
[ Life, life, and more life. Funny, how Aerith walks on mossy ground and leaves it looking greener to his untrained (biased) eye－ she meanders through the world like a sunbeam, and her warmth in his hand turns over embers in his chest.
Warm things, pretty things. He hears birdsong to the east, and a stranger silence in the west. Something he should pay closer attention to, being that most silences are owed to unsavory characters having scared off the local fauna, but－
－Aerith is pleasantly distracting for now, and he'd like to linger in her safety for a few moments longer. ]
Only you could make vegetables sound so romantic.
[ A not-sarcastic quip, stated with simple sincerity. A light rejoinder, before he has to segue into the topic of inevitabilities. ]
And... yes. As long as Drake's Head stands, it gives me reason to venture to Ash. With or without Barnabas Tharmr's blessing.
[ That's a joke; no one as of yet has given him their blessing to break their most valuable asset. ]
It would be good to have a guide, but I expect it's far too dangerous to bring you back to your homeland.
["Only you could make vegetables sound so romantic."
She's not expecting it. That response. It makes her laugh outright as she looks over to him. Then she grins, a bit girlish and even abashed. Considering she's never thought herself a romantic, being described as using language that even points in that direction is... For her, it's nearly unheard of. Clive always seems to know how to catch her off guard.
His clarification, explanation, that impending visit to Ash grabs her then. With her hand in his, she can only reflect and wonder. Barnabas won't give his blessing. Maybe a challenge, if anything. She doesn't think there will be any kind of peaceful exchange between the two of them. Barnabas does not seem like the kind of man who would. And given what Ash was like when she left, she can only suspect it's gotten worse.
That continent might as well be in disarray. And Barnabas doesn't seem to care at all.]
Hm... [Her head tilts as she eyes him.] I could probably go if I didn't just go wearing this. But if no one knew who I was, I could guide you. It'll be... a while before you go, right? Before you're planning to go? [She turns from him, scans the distance, trying to think about where they are currently on a map.]
There's still Drake's Tail to contend with. The Crystalline Dominion sits on the brink― we'll have to go there before we think of moving further east.
[ Enamored by Aerith's smile, the way he speaks of necessities softens to match the swelling of his heart. The world feels slightly less complicated when she laughs, and it inspires him to shift the conversation in a lighter, less dour direction. ]
So there's time enough to find you something else to wear, I suppose. [ They've talked about consulting Hortense before; he wonders if that conversation has already happened between Aerith and her where he wasn't there to see. ] Something less...
[ Hm. ]
...Pink. [ Because that's all it takes for the people looking for her not to recognize her, right. Obviously he doesn't actually think this, but he's just teasing as lightly as a man like him is able. ]
[At least there is time. There is no part of Aerith chomping at proverbial bit to return to Ash. When she thinks about doing so, a flutter of nerves comes up. Maybe by the time that time arrives, she may handle it better. Even if she doesn't, she will put on the presentation that she does.
That is Aerith's way.]
Oh, actually... [She looks a little pleased, a little animated, and it is transparent that she may even be looking forward to it.] I think when we get back, I should be able to check on the progress of that. I know I said I like pastel colours and I do, but I didn't want anything that looks too much like me. So I opted for blue and white. No pink. I specifically said no pink.
[With her free hand, she reaches for her hair and plays with the braid she has it pulled back into.]
I'll do something different with this, too, but I'm not sure what yet. Maybe I'll just wear it down.
[Although she wonders if that'll be good enough. Would people recognise her face easily? Aerith doesn't think she's memorable at all, but that doesn't mean others don't feel the same way.]
If it's done by the time we get back, do you want to take a look and give me your professional opinion?
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flamebrand) wrote2023-10-31 01:24 am
no subject
Her expression is, as it sometimes can be in Clive's presence, a little sheepish. Maybe even goofy. Aerith is often full of wonder and life and humour, trying to add a little touch of levity into the world where she can. This moment is scarcely any different. In fact, it seems to be the side of herself that she prefers to share with everyone else.
As she steps after, using his hold to maintain her until she can more properly join him, she listens attentively, little shifts in the features of her face as he continues. Surprise. Awe. An amalgamation rainbow of many things. How exciting it must have been to be on an airship.
Well.
Until it went down, of course. There is something to be said about competition and ambition. By the end of it, she looks sympathetic. Somehow there are always innocents stuck in the world paying the price for captains and authority figures. She's not sure humanity has completely learned that lesson just yet. Or... maybe some of them just don't care. That's more probable.]
Oh... [She finally manages to say, her voice still touched with wonder and a characteristic imagination.] I wonder how many people at the hideaway know about that. All I knew was that it was an old ship. Surely when it landed originally— [Crashed, more like.] —the lake wasn't here. Or maybe it was all pure water.
[With a tilt of her head, Aerith squeezed Clive's hand.] The blight here is bad, isn't it. Was it like that when you were younger, too?
no subject
I'm not sure about the lake― they say it was formed when a great dragon fell from the skies and created the basin upon impact. Whether the dragon came first or the airships did, it's hard to know.
[ They walk, and trees give way to a sloped clearing flooded with warm midday light. On either side of a main path that cuts through the middle of the clearing are well-maintained bushes arranged in neat rows, fenced and segmented by a careful hand; on the top of the hill overlooking the greenery are quaint houses fashioned in stone and wood, rustic and weathered but persisting.
Speaking of persisting, though. ]
...No. There was still much more greenery when I was a boy. I remember looking out from the ramparts of Castle Rosalith and seeing an expanse of life stretching far beyond, as far as the eye could see.
[ A wistful, melancholy half-smile. ]
Father had said that the Blight was creeping inwards, but I had no idea how close it'd come.
no subject
Apparently that kind of thing is still quite effective on her. Or maybe Aerith has had a lack of stories told to her. Or maybe all of life feels like a story.]
Must have been a very, very impressive dragon.
[Massively so, even. That lake is huge.
When Clive talks about Rosalith, she listens intently, green eyes fixed on him attentively. Part of her is trying to imagine it. The thought of an excess of life leaves her warm. Will they ever see life like that return? She'd like that, but... Once again, that's complicated. She knows that it is.]
I don't think the Blight really takes into account where people are. Where animals are. It probably doesn't have the ability to think like that. [It's not as if it has sentience. It's a byproduct. It's a repercussion for something that shouldn't be. It's a consequence for luxury, perhaps, and irresponsibility in some cases.] I'm glad that not all places are taken by it, though. Things here feel a lot more full of hope. Ash is... it's really barren and empty. It looks so sad by comparison.
[It looks dead, honestly, but she doesn't have the heart to say it like that.]
no subject
Moving swiftly on, though. He glances down at Aerith and her wide-eyed focus, and fancies that the emerald of her gaze looks even deeper in the company of their verdant surroundings. ]
We would have been far luckier if the Blight operated on some system of mercy. [ Not quite bitter, but in the sort of tone that suggests that the slow death of their planet has taken far too much from the people he cares about. It's tempered, however, by Aerith's somber observation about Ash, and he shifts to accommodate it. ]
...Though, you're right. I suppose Storm has been more blessed than Ash. [ A pause, as he sidesteps a particularly soft patch of dirt and leads Aerith away from it, not wanting her shoes to get too muddy. ] Though I can't say that I know much about that side of the Twins. Even my father didn't speak much of Ash, or of its king.
no subject
[Aerith shakes her head, seemingly apologetic.] It's not a competition. The Blight is bad, no matter where it is. No matter what it touches. The outcome ends up the same. Just because I get filled with wonder every time I see a place like this doesn't make it any better.
[The thought of Storm becoming just as empty as Ash is... It's terrifying, really. It's awful and horrible. Aerith wants every single overgrown place to continue being overgrown. She wants the people to have marshlands and vineyards and forests and real lakes filled with fish and potable water.]
Ash is... History books say that before Waloed was established that it was ruled by the Kingdom of Veldermarke. There were great battles that left their mark and the Blight was the result. There was another crystal on the continent, but when all of the aether was depleted, it shattered. That all happened before I was born, though. It must have been beautiful once upon a time, but the Ash I've known has never been like that.
[And Barnabas Tharmr... There are no shortage of stories about him. About some of the unique individuals and beliefs that are sometimes spread through the region. Aerith doesn't look like she knows what to make of them. There is, perhaps, a degree of truth in the folklore and myths that supposedly were left behind in aeons that long preceded them.
Harpocrates would likely know more.]
Your father was probably right not to say much of it. Ash's king is a... strange and intimidating man.
no subject
Vestiges of wishes, untransferable. I shouldn't do that, she says, and Clive thinks he understands: there's a version of Rosaria that he wishes still existed, but it isn't productive to reflect on that while he looks at Rosaria now. What they can do, together, is see what can be done from here on out.
He squeezes her hand. It's a feeling he enjoys. ]
We might venture there one day. Ash, I mean. And when all of this is done, we might make a garden of it yet.
[ There, a little hope, before his expression pulls into tense neutral at the mention of Waloed's elusive king. ]
―If the strange and intimidating king allows it. If he remains on his throne when the last crystal shatters, that is.
[ Clive harbors no illusions about the current world order when they're free of the Mothercrystals. Equality will bring about discontent with the old; Barnabas Tharmr, a man who built his name on sword and steel, doesn't seem a man who can lead a nation in peacetime. ]
no subject
That would be nice, wouldn't it. If the entire continent, this one, and that one, could have no shortage of gardens. But that sounds expected. [She grins.] I dream of a world of flowers and draping trees and clear water, juicy fruits, and rich, vibrant vegetables.
[Her attention turns a little when Clive makes mention of the last crystal. It's the way he puts it. She doesn't ask it outright, but her gaze does. He has a plan. He's just following through with the steps. If she hadn't arrived in Storm, if she hadn't been rescued by Cid those years before, would their paths have crossed in Ash? Maybe it wouldn't have been in the same way.]
You're planning to go to Ash anyway. [It's not even a question. Just an observation.] Eventually. It sounds like you have this all planned out. I guess that would be important. Better to have a direction to go in than the alternative.
[She can't help wondering when that might be. Every time a crystal shatters, Aerith can't explain it, but something feels... off. Wrong. It is nearly bittersweet. And a part of her almost feels like she is losing a part of herself. But all of that sounds ridiculous.]
no subject
Warm things, pretty things. He hears birdsong to the east, and a stranger silence in the west. Something he should pay closer attention to, being that most silences are owed to unsavory characters having scared off the local fauna, but－
－Aerith is pleasantly distracting for now, and he'd like to linger in her safety for a few moments longer. ]
Only you could make vegetables sound so romantic.
[ A not-sarcastic quip, stated with simple sincerity. A light rejoinder, before he has to segue into the topic of inevitabilities. ]
And... yes. As long as Drake's Head stands, it gives me reason to venture to Ash. With or without Barnabas Tharmr's blessing.
[ That's a joke; no one as of yet has given him their blessing to break their most valuable asset. ]
It would be good to have a guide, but I expect it's far too dangerous to bring you back to your homeland.
no subject
She's not expecting it. That response. It makes her laugh outright as she looks over to him. Then she grins, a bit girlish and even abashed. Considering she's never thought herself a romantic, being described as using language that even points in that direction is... For her, it's nearly unheard of. Clive always seems to know how to catch her off guard.
His clarification, explanation, that impending visit to Ash grabs her then. With her hand in his, she can only reflect and wonder. Barnabas won't give his blessing. Maybe a challenge, if anything. She doesn't think there will be any kind of peaceful exchange between the two of them. Barnabas does not seem like the kind of man who would. And given what Ash was like when she left, she can only suspect it's gotten worse.
That continent might as well be in disarray. And Barnabas doesn't seem to care at all.]
Hm... [Her head tilts as she eyes him.] I could probably go if I didn't just go wearing this. But if no one knew who I was, I could guide you. It'll be... a while before you go, right? Before you're planning to go? [She turns from him, scans the distance, trying to think about where they are currently on a map.]
Where are you going next?
no subject
[ Enamored by Aerith's smile, the way he speaks of necessities softens to match the swelling of his heart. The world feels slightly less complicated when she laughs, and it inspires him to shift the conversation in a lighter, less dour direction. ]
So there's time enough to find you something else to wear, I suppose. [ They've talked about consulting Hortense before; he wonders if that conversation has already happened between Aerith and her where he wasn't there to see. ] Something less...
[ Hm. ]
...Pink. [ Because that's all it takes for the people looking for her not to recognize her, right. Obviously he doesn't actually think this, but he's just teasing as lightly as a man like him is able. ]
no subject
That is Aerith's way.]
Oh, actually... [She looks a little pleased, a little animated, and it is transparent that she may even be looking forward to it.] I think when we get back, I should be able to check on the progress of that. I know I said I like pastel colours and I do, but I didn't want anything that looks too much like me. So I opted for blue and white. No pink. I specifically said no pink.
[With her free hand, she reaches for her hair and plays with the braid she has it pulled back into.]
I'll do something different with this, too, but I'm not sure what yet. Maybe I'll just wear it down.
[Although she wonders if that'll be good enough. Would people recognise her face easily? Aerith doesn't think she's memorable at all, but that doesn't mean others don't feel the same way.]
If it's done by the time we get back, do you want to take a look and give me your professional opinion?