betweentheseconds | Open RP Post

[Rose had at first been grateful to be back to the Source, no more Lightwardens to absorb, but she lost that feeling quickly after things went down to hell in a handbasket.]

[The report was supposed to be simple (how the hell Tataru had managed to rope Estinien into being a spy, she’ll never know), but it was anything but. The Emperor was dead, killed by his own son. What’s more, Zenos—the real Zenos, is still alive, and now back to his original body.]

[Couldn’t she get a break? At least once?]

[She walks out into Mor Dhona, the knowledge weighing on her shoulders. She had hoped for a vacation, but it’s clear they need to act, and act quickly. Just as soon as she thinks that, she looks at the Aetheryte, and sees the last person she expected.]

[Zenos.]

[Her blood runs cold, and she’s frozen in place. Should she fight? Flee? There are a lot of people around, and she can’t risk any casualties. More importantly, how had no one noticed the crown prince of the Empire standing in the town square?]

[She needs to do something soon, before he notices her.]

[Perhaps no one has noticed because everyone is all caught up in their own business. Perhaps because the tall man with a tasteful circlet across his forehead and wearing an expensive longcoat looked like more or less any other experienced adventurer with too much gil and too little taste. Perhaps it was just the sheer impossibility of Zenos yae Galvus himself being there that does it. There are some things that the mind cannot accept, and thus one ignores them.

But that is absolutely Zenos standing there, with morbol guts clinging to his boots and a singular eastern sword at his hip. And oh, it is too late, for he has already noticed her. All boredom leaves his face, and he smiles.

And begins to step towards her.]

Ah! My friend...

[‘Caught up in their own business,’ well, that’s one way to put it. One would think that a Garlean, especially one of Zenos’ stature, would easily command attention, and yet...]

[The only attention seems focused on her for the time being. He’s noticed her, and now he’s approaching her. Great. She sees the smile on his face, and her stomach churns. There’s something about it that’s innately unsettling. Instinctively, Rose reaches for her staff.]

Listen closely, because I’m going to say this only once: We aren’t friends.

[Hence the tasteful circlet! It really fools no one, but grants a thin veneer of plausible not-a-Garlean deniability.

It doesn't surprise him in the least that Rose is reaching for a weapon. It's fair, to do, even. But he has yet to draw his own, has yet to demand the violence that he so craves.]

My enemy, then? What we have is something of significance, you must admit that much.

[And either she will admit that much, or she will be sufficiently infuriated to fight him here and now. He hopes. Oh, he hopes.]

[Rose isn’t infuriated as much as she is scared, but she’s not going to admit it, and she’s going to do her best to not let it show. The last thing she wants right now is a fight; her reaching for her weapon is self-defense, and nothing else.]

[He hasn’t reached for his swords yet, nor has he attacked her. It should make her feel better, but somehow it worries her more. What is he thinking?]

Your enemy, yes, and nothing else.

[‘What we have,’ what is he even talking about? As far as Rose is concerned, Zenos is a crazy guy who sometimes shows up and tries to kill her.]

I’m not sure what you think we have, but it’s not there.

[Breathe in, breathe out. The key right now is keeping herself calm.]

[Nothing else? Ah, well, whether she accepts his feelings or not, that does not diminish them. His smile lingers. He gives a lazy blink.]

And yet, my presence makes your breath come quicker...

[Such are the feelings of a madman who sincerely aims to eventually kill the object of his attentions.

Another blink, and his smile is gone.]

I've not come to test you. I've come to talk. You wear the marks of a long, long journey, warrior.

[His gaze drifts subtly, noting those streaks of white in her hair.]

[‘My presence makes your breath come quicker,’ of course it does, she’s terrified. Terrified, and also angry. She isn’t blind to his attentions, nor is she unaware of the fact that he eventually means to kill her.]

[The fact that he doesn’t; he doesn’t attack when he easily could, he insists on talking, makes her even more uncomfortable. What is he after?]

I doubt we have anything to talk about.

[She notices his gaze drift towards her hair, and instinctively starts to run a hand through it. Why did he have to be so observant?]

I don’t make smalltalk with cold-blooded murderers.

The things that I wish to discuss are hardly small.

[If she is stubborn, it is at least an understandable stubbornness. He takes a moment to glance to the side, eye one of the citizens of Revenant's Toll as they go about their daily business, paying the two of them no mind.]

And I will have my discussion, or will I find other ways to amuse myself. A 'nexus of adventurers' would surely offer me some challenge...?

[Having said that, his gaze turns back to Rose. There is a question in his tone, yes, but not quite the question that he seems to have posed. Will you sit with him? Will you talk? Or will he be forced to make sport of your friends and allies until you've no choice but to react?]

[Rose clenches her firsts at her side as she follows Zenos’ gaze. There’s no mistaking his ultimatum; either she agrees to talk with him, or he slaughters everyone in Mor Dhona. None of the adventurers here would provide him the ‘challenge’ he seeks, as she’s sure he’s likely aware.]

[There’s little for her to think about. As much as she doesn’t want to have this conversation, she doesn’t have a choice. Even at her best, she can barely beat Zenos. There would be no way for her to effectively protect the citizenry.]

Fine. But if we’re going to do this, we’ll do it in private. There’s a bar on the outskirts of town that’s usually empty this time of day.

[He is almost disappointed that he has gotten his way without having to commit any actual acts of violence. Almost. It's a fleeting feeling, tinged with the acknowledgement that no one here was likely to put up much of a fight. No one other than her.

He inclines his head slightly, smiling in a way that could almost be taken as gracious.]

Do lead the way, then.

[He will follow behind Rose with easy strides, alert for nonsense, but the greater part of his attention on her.]

[No one but her could put up a fight, but she can put up a fight if it comes to it. She doesn’t like the idea of being alone with Zenos, but she can defend herself if need be. Were they to meet in public, the chance of someone recognizing him is too high.]

[She takes him to a small bar on the outskirts of town, avoiding as many main roads as she can. It’s not hard for them to find a seat inside, and Rose opts for a table sequestered in the corner. Rose crosses her arms and frowns.]

Alright, out with it. What’s so important that you deigned to come all the way to Eorzea?

[He, too, likes the idea of a meeting in relative private. He is here to see her, after all, and not have some sort of boring confrontation with her flustered, panicking allies. If their course is roundabout and their destination is unimpressive, he gives no sign that it bothers him. It is but more time spent with her, in the end.

He sits across from her, large enough that the chair he sits himself upon gives a creak.]

I've learned some very interesting things from the Ascian that had been puppeting my body around. About your Hydaelin. About Zodiark. Things interesting enough that I'd like some... outside confirmation of them.

[Because while their inscrutable plans seem to happily involve him committing regicide and wandering off with wild ideas in his head, he can't help but be a little suspicious when he's allowed to do as he pleases.]

[In truth, Rose had her suspicions for quite some time, as well. She'd always assumed that the Empire had been too afraid to try and restrain Zenos, seeing as they'd created a monster. But, on reflection, that seemed like too easy an answer.]

[Rose is momentarily surprised when he willingly takes the seat across from her. Every time she'd met him before, there'd been bloodshed involved. She hadn't thought they'd actually make it to the bar without conflict. It's disquieting.]

Oh? And what sort of things might those be that you'd have to ask me? I'd imagine there are plenty of people in Garlemald familiar with the ways of the Ascians.

[Considering, you know, that their founder was one.]

That's because they probably are Ascians.

[ Lesser ones, no doubt, if he understands matters correctly. He understands enough to value what they say, but verify it independently. He lets out a long, irritated breath, settling back in his seat. ]

The more I learn, the more it seems that the both of us are meant for something greater. Greater even than our last battle.

[ He cannot help but smile as he remembers it. Ah, such a sweet memory... ]

Or perhaps I am wrong? Have I been misinformed?

No, I don't think you have.

[Rose frowns. She doesn't really want to be having this conversation at all, much less with Zenos. At the same time, she has no reason to lie to him either. It's not like he's known for his subtlety.]

Garlemald is an empire built by Ascians, whose sole purpose is sowing discord and chaos.

[Which explains a lot, really, about how Zenos has been allowed to behave.]

I'm not sure how that means either of us meant for something greater, though.

[ It was a dark night in the Lochs, and Lucia could see the lights from the camps of the Resistance and their allies glowing faintly in the distance. Only those and the stars from the night sky above illuminated the place where she stood, waiting... the place that Zenos had told her to come.

This was insanity. She knew it better than anyone else, to meet up with him like this; he left nothing but destruction in his wake, and yet each time they had met, he kept letting her go. It was by his hand that she remained standing, his hand that let her struggle to grow stronger, to meet his might. It was clear to Lucia that the authority of the crown prince held no appeal to the Garlean, that he was only fueled by his own self-interest and pleasure... A pleasure he only seemed to find in battle. It was the only reason why he had left her alive: for his entertainment.

And yet, during their last battle, as both the Garlean and the Resistance clashed, gearing up for the final confrontation, he had leaned close and whispered of her past that no one else could know of. That he wished to speak further in private, at this certain location. The implied threat that he could make public of what he knew...

There was no way Lucia could let her friends find out. That she had been hiding this from them all this time, their anger or betrayal, or worse, pity... They could never find out. And so she had slipped out of the camp, teleporting to a nearby aetheryte to hide her trail before making her way to the designated spot where she waited.

Lucia didn't have long to wait. The armor that Zenos wore was definitely not made for stealth - but then again, the Garlean prince really had no need to sneak up on anybody, did he? Not that she had any room to talk, wearing the bright white robes of a White Mage that made her stand out in this dark desert. But she had wanted something that kept her covered, something that hid her body, and these seemed like option. ]

You came here alone, right?

[ The viera's words were guarded and wary as she glared at him, her arms crossed over her chest, obviously not here to make friends. But there was also a shifting uneasiness that she wasn't quite able to hide, a restless nervousness running under her edge. How much does he know? How did he find out? How did he realize that was me? And what does he want--? ]

[Stealth, as a concept, has its merits... but the secrecy of this meeting does not require divesting himself of his armor and sneaking about like a coward. A few commands, a declaration that he will be taking some air, a dismissal of guards, and off he stalks across the Lochs to the designated meeting place.

And so he finds her standing there, a beacon in the darkness, and he smiles to himself. His steps towards her are purposeful but unhurried, armor rattling softly. He had not doubted for a moment that she would be there, but it still... stirs something within him, to see Lucia there, displeased and distressed in equal measure.]

Of course. And you, as well?

[He is not asking the question particularly seriously, and he gives a look to the left, then to the right. No, no, not a sign of another soul. Just the two of them out in the darkness, the tension so palpable it could be cut with a blade. Slowly, Zenos turns his head and returns his gaze to her.]

You fascinate me, Warrior of Light. Such strength. Such determination. How far you've come!

[He smiles, and it is an unpleasant, worrisome thing to behold.]

So, so much farther than anyone would dare guess.

[It is an opening blow in the fight that this conversation will no doubt be, sharp but simple enough to parry. He would see how she handles it, watch her intently for even the smallest of reactions.]

[ Lucia doesn't answer him right away.

It takes all of her strength to not bristle at his words, going utterly and completely still - unflinching, unmoving, appearing completely calm and unperturbed even as she desperately smothers the panic spiking in her. He couldn't be talking about what she thinks he is, is he? How much does he actually know?

The Viera stays silent, her gaze never flinching from Zenos even as the memories she'd tried to force herself to forget come bubbling back to the surface. As much as she tried to ignore it, there's no denying the similarities between him and his great-grandfather, and the unsettling urge to return to old habits.

To her old self.

But she'd left that "self" behind in that place. The only person who would had mourned her disappearance - if he actually truly cared about her, which Lucia was never really sure about - was dead. There should be no one left to remember her - who she was.

And yet here was Zenos, luring her out here alone with the hint that he was aware of a past that not even the scions knew about, suggestion that he knew what she was. There was an uncomfortable sensation that he saw beyond identity of the hero of Eorzea, as if he was peeling back the layers hidden her past.

The silence stretches on, before she finally replies, not even batting an eye. ]

Oh? But isn't this how every grand story goes, with the hero rising beyond their humble beginnings?

[ He can't have known. Even back then she'd understood that her mere existence in that place ran against everything the Garleans had stood for; the only reason she was barely tolerated was due to the whims of a single man. Her very existence had been a secret none outside of the palace she lived in - or, more accurately, caged in - knew of.

There's no way he would know her. Remember her. They'd done their best to forget her even as she still lived among them. ]

Although I must confess, I'm afraid any tales you've heard of my adventures have been greatly exaggerated.

[ A little casual toss of her head, as if she's completely unperturbed, that she has no idea of what he's hinting at. Would he believe her...? He can't suspect that she's terrified of how close he is to unveiling her past, when she thought she'd finally escaped it.

His own grandson hadn't even recognized her. How could his great-grandson know...? ]

Edited 2020-01-28 20:43 (UTC)

C’mon, ya bloody parasite!

[Anyone who’s known the Warrior of Light knows that she’s never one to throw herself completely and fully into a fight unless it’s warranted. She’s not one who immediately rises to bait, or to even a challenge as much as she used to, knowing that any wrong move could mark it as her last, or even worse, the last moments for someone she cares for.

Anyone who knows the Warrior of Light knows all this. But anyone who knows Vheras Warden? Knows that at the heart of everything, when it comes to being between fighting and being a diplomat, all of her predictability of being the “good person” goes to absolute shite.

Zenos yae Galvus. There haven’t been very many people who can get right under her skin just by their sheer presence, but this man- this man. Every time he utters so much as a sentence to call them equals, or animals, or any violent thing, her blood practically boils. Sidurgu was less infuriating even in his rants and arrogant assumptions, though those were becoming less and less these days. Something about the Garlean infuriates her, makes the Abyss crawl through her veins like some blackened intoxication, practically makes her heart sing with anticipation.

She hates it.

Cronus Lux hums quietly as she tilts her wrists, readjusts her stance, then charges like a bullet straight for Zenos. She wants to kill him, she's going to kill him, Twelve damn this man to hell. He reeks of blood, of power and pure carelessness with no desire to change. Somehow, it doesn't surprise her, it simply infuriates her instead. Vheras has had enough.]

To hells with ye!

[The fury that he can so easily inspire in her feels, to him, like proof of the truth of his words. She is a beast at heart, a thing of raw violence held back only illusions that she direly needs to rid herself of. He had called her on it, and she was now responding, charging in at him with such beautiful fury.]

Yes!

[He grins a terrible too-wide grin and draws The Swell, biding time for but a moment before he steps forward into her charge with a mighty swing to deflect her blade. He is in no hurry to move in for the kill, no, no. He wants to enjoy this for what it is, see what she has learned in his absence, perhaps even taste that steel of hers!

She'd best react quickly, though. A flick of his wrist and his follow up blow slices upwards, intent upon cleaving through her armor and into the flesh beneath.]

[Contrary to what she holds fast to, it is proof, of a sort. How wild she can become if her friends are threatened, how far off the deep and into the Abyss she's flung herself since Haurchefant's death, how much she truly wishes she could step out of the role of "hero, protector" and just fight until her knuckles bleed and her ribs crack. To feel unhinged and raw and alive in this moment- the same way she used to before adventuring, fighting pirates in Limsa in fistfights, coming home with bruises and wounds that would last along with the memories of them. The scar she wears across her eye is a tale of one such thing, though it's one she's not partial in telling.

Truly, if one were to look at the two of them, there are similarities they share that completely terrify her of herself. So she buries it, reminds herself she needs to play her part, and keep those she cares for safe as much as she can. Even a wild beast can be tamed if it wishes to be so.

He's testing her, she realizes. Keeping her here and moving the blade at the last second, catching the edge and pushing her temper further. Cronus' glow is an eerie sight against The Swell, and she narrows her eyes as she notices his wrist twitch, the movement quick enough that it nicks her cheek as she sidesteps the swipe. There's blood there, but it's small, and what kind of battle would it be if no harm came from it?

Her voice is a growl compared to his elated tone. She pulls up her blade, swings down hard towards his head- gods willing, she's going to hurt by the end of this, but if it means this bastard is dead, then it makes it worth it.]

Shut up.

[She growls, he laughs... it is all still poetry, to his ears. Such music they make!]

Make me.

[Such a childish thing to demand, but he sincerely hopes that she tries. Smash his helm, shatter his jaw, slit his throat... he's eager to see what she can manage, but not so eager that he does not abruptly sidestep that heavy overhead swing of her blade. It crashes down and sparks against a pauldron, jarring his shoulder but drawing no blood. Confident that this will buy him a few moments of preparation, he sheathes The Swell. His sword holster spins, emitting a high whine as aether condenses. Zenos's hand closes upon The Storm, and electricity courses over him and outwards.

He wonders, as he prepares his attack, will she retreat to safety or will she strike while he is open? His heart pounds and his body tenses, eager for her next move.]

[This was the stupidest plan Palais has ever agreed to.

But she knows she can't deter Yugiri from attacking Zenos, so all she can do is offer support and aid her. She also knew he would completely wipe the floor with them, muscles now aching and lungs burning as she struggles to keep herself upright. At least she damaged that stupid helmet...

(She doesn't want to think over his words. Doesn't want to consider them, if only because she knows she can't stop now - )

A paltry victory compared to how Zenos has turned his sights onto Yugiri and the newly arrived villagers, and all Palais can do is wheeze out a curse before pulling out her sword. Swiftcast and Vercure are but a bandage on a gaping wound, but it pushes her to now stand before them - a weak, fragile barrier against a vicious storm. Dimly, in the distance, she can hear others approach - a twitch of an ear the only indication, but they're still so far. There's no time.]

Take Yugiri and go, there's people ahead who can help you escape!

[There's protests of course - that she is weak, barely able to stand, that they can't leave her - which she ignores. But she has something that could give her an edge - an aspect of her heritage that Hydalen's blessing has protected her from so far. After all, what good is a Warrior of Light if she cannot journey to places thick with aether without losing her mind?

Now she has learned to control it, but with her own aether as a price. Palais has never really needed to use it, she'll be useless once time is up, but desperate times call for desperate measures...

The glare she throws over her shoulder is enough to silence anything further, before the aether burns inside and around her - reinvigorating her, channeling her remaining power into just one goal. Just one target she needs to tear down.

There isn't need to draw her weapon now, her claws more than deadly enough. A low hiss escapes between clenched teeth, muscles tense as she stands upright once more - she exuded bloodlust before, but this time it's almost tangible. Enough to make the remaining soldiers draw back with a tremble in their step, as the Viera glares up at Zenos.

Zenos called her a beast. Very well, she will show him how much of a beast she can be.]

Edited (when u notice typos hours later) 2019-10-18 15:59 (UTC)

[It is all very noble of her, very heroic, to rise in spite of her injuries and press on... but nobility and heroism aren't things that Zenos yae Galvus cares to concern himself with. There is a part of him that knows that the correct thing to do is to quit toying with this wounded animal, and finish what he was actually sent to do.

He will ignore that part. To hells with that part.]

You crave more?

[For she is a wounded animal, isn't she? Cornered, and desperate, and willing to tear into him with her bare hands. It matters not that it will likely be futile. He would see what she is capable of, if it is worthy of him. The soldiers retreat in the face of her mad fury, but he takes a heavy, portentious step forward.]

Then give me more!

[He, too, has not deigned to draw his weapon. Let them both fight like beasts.]

[One of the more interesting features of Yanxia's mountainous terrain is that there are no shortage of natural hot springs around the fringes toward the Azim Steppe. Some glow in fascinating colors, others billow with steam, and all tend to be occupied by namazu or monkeys or other such (semi-)intelligent creatures looking for a little reprieve.

Except this one. It's well enough out of the way that the locals only rarely venture up to use it, as it's more of a pain in the arse to get to than it's worth to use the ones lower down. Hence why Irhya has decided she'll make the trek up the mountain to have some godsdamned peace and quiet, with no possibility of being disturbed. And all the better after the whirlwind that was her time on the First; now that she's back on her home world, she wants some personal space, which not even Tataru and her doe-eyes can deter her from.

Yes. Nothing whatsoever. Definitely not a huge eight-odd-fulm monster of a man who is also kind of a huge Doma-nerd to disturb her while she's chilling without her clothes or her weapon at hand.]

[Zenos yae Galvus hadn't entirely wasted his time as regent of Doma. He'd gotten to know the environs a little, enough to familiarize himself with the namazu and the monkeys and the various hot springs. Enough, even, that he has a favorite. A favorite that he has missed, in all of the striving and struggling. He has won his body back and all is chaos in Garlemald... so why not pause a moment or two while plans finish coming together?

Presuming that Irhya is at all alert and attentive, she is likely to hear heavy footsteps along the narrow stone path. And then the clatter and clank of armor, growing ever closer. It is enough time to not be particularly surprised about having company... but, instead, surprised about who that company is.

Zenos crests the rise, takes one step down towards the spring, and then halts sharply. There is someone here! And oh, what a someone it is.]

...do my eyes deceive me?

[It is a bit fortunately coincidental, if he were to be honest with himself... but he's not going to. It is just the person he has been longing to see all this while.

Isn't it? Hm, perhaps he should attack her, to be sure...]

[Oh.

For Irhya, however, there is nothing that isn't unfortunate about this situation, with him being in full armor while she is completely bare. Her weapon sits behind her, and she puts a hand upon it, tail swishing under the water. Too much water will corrode the metal in no time at all, but when her hide is at risk...]

Does it surprise you so that I'd want to de-stress away from the world's troubles? And yet trouble comes and finds me anyway...

[If she wasn't alert before, she certainly is now, one leg wound tightly next to her body in the event she needs to spring. He's enough of a wild card that it's impossible to tell...

...Well, no, maybe not. He would prefer picking fights on an equal playing field, wouldn't he? There's no thrill in it for him if he offs her when she's at a clear disadvantage. With that thought in mind, she releases the hilt of her sword, though does not completely relax.]

I'm guessing this means I'm stuck.

[On the other hand, he will pursue her if she tries to run. The safest option, contrary to all logical behavior, seems to be to stay put and observe for the time being.]

Does the world still trouble you so?

[He smiles, but his hand drifts idly to the hilt of a sword. It's an absent motion on his part. He still hasn't decided what he most desires to do. He would love nothing more than a fight, but where is the sport in drawing steel upon her at a moment like this? Surely her power has not increased so much since...

...has it? His fingers twitch.

Mm, no. His hand drops away.]

You're free to go, if you wish. This is hardly the place for the glorious battle of reunion that we ought to have.

[He shifts, then unclasps the belt to his rotary electro-scabbard and lets it hit the ground with a heavy clank. And then, in no particular hurry, he begins to strip himself of his armor.]

I came here for my own reasons, and I am in no mood to be denied what I seek.

[His eyes do not leave her, though the expression in them is... not what one might expect from a man staring at a naked woman in a hot spring. There is interest alight there, yes, but the interest of one sizing up an opponent.]

["No mood," huh? So he's stressed out, too, inasmuch as a Garlean prince can be. Irhya heaves a deep sigh and sinks back into the water.]

They weren't kidding when they said you liked Doman culture, were they.

[There's a note of amusement in her voice, though; there's been plenty of hearsay, talk of people currying favor with him by bringing him priceless blades, but to think he took it this far...

Or perhaps she's just trying to ease her nerves while she's in a situation where she's completely bare, and he's undressing to do the same, and they're both going to be in a godsdamned bath together. Where either could kill the other at any time, supposedly.

...But isn't that the draw of it? It's the one thing he has right about her that she isn't keen on admitting to, at least not to his face.]

Ugh, I'm too tired to protest, and like hells I want to vacate. Do what you want.

[Yet as much as she tries to act like she doesn't care, her eyes are glued on him, as wary as she is curious, like a feral cat being offered food for the first time.]

[Ah, a jab he's heard countless times before. His brow knits, even as he continues to divest himself of his defenses.]

Having been assigned here as long as I was, I'd have gone mad if this land had no merit at all.

[Clunk. Clank. Clunk. Is that a twitch of a smile upon his lips? He knows full well what others think of him and his inclinations and impulses. He's not mad, though. Not in his own estimation. He's one of very few sensible people in this dull world. One of the others is just a stone's throw away.

The sashes at his waist are unwrapped, and more armor is stripped away. There are other belts and straps to unbuckle, too, but he does so with absent ease. Once the last of the metal bits have been shed, he's down to padded carbon fiber clothing... which he is quick to strip off, too. First the shirt, up and over his head, with a pause to pass fingers through his long hair to get it back off of his face. And then go the pants, without so much as a hint of self-consciousness.

While his armor does certainly add to how tall and broad he seems to be, it does not add that much. He is an impressively large man, all broad shoulders and sculpted muscle.]

'Do what I want?'

[That unknits his brow. He is inclined, as of late, to do precisely what he wants, and hardly needs to be told to, but...]

Would you expect me to do otherwise?

...Not really, no.

[A fair point; Zenos has always been able to damn well do what Zenos wants, which would appear to be part of the problem. As she looks on, his stature comes as no surprise, and yet she has to train herself not to let her eyes linger for too long at any given time, because who knows what kind of message that would send.

(The correct one, probably, but that's another entire can of worms she isn't sure needs to be opened yet.)

Now comes the awkward part, though: does she let them sit in silence, try to make dull conversation, or something else...? Zenos and small talk probably blend like oil and water, and any attempts at silence will inevitably be broken no matter how hard she tries to maintain it. And yet, it would be better to control the flow of things, if possible.

Then...]

Speaking of... there is word from several sources that Garlemald is in a frenzy. That the emperor has been murdered, leaving a power vacuum in his place. [A pause. Varis was no friend of hers, but to kill his own father only emphasizes the kind of wildcard she's dealing with here.] ...You've been busy.

[There had always been some moderate limit on Zenos's ability to do as he pleased. Rank grants responsibility. To be part of a system is to be beholden to it, whatever advantages his lofty position may have granted. But that is a problem that he would like to think that he has since solved. Thus satisfied, and also sufficiently naked, he steps into the hot spring and sinks himself into it with a rumbling groan.

His eyes slide shut but for a moment, for the Warrior of Light has apparently heard of the recent excitement that he'd set into motion. They open again, and he smiles a self-satisfied smile.]

Once I reclaimed my body, I felt no need to waste time. Had my father persisted in his desire to deploy Black Rose, we'd have not had the chance to meet again.

[And oh, he is already delighted that they've been able to meet again already, even if this is more of an appetizer to the grand feast that he has been looking forward to.
That smile of his turns ever so somewhat predatory.]

Think of it as a gift, if you'd like. A kindness, for a dear friend. Surely a Garlean Empire thrown into chaos is the sort of opportunity you Eorzeans have been waiting for?

[Ah, yes. He offed his father and any chances Garlemald still had of utilizing Black Rose to prevent her death... so that he could drag her back towards the brink of death again for himself, willingly or not. Friends, indeed.

She doesn't say that, but the look on her face says it for her anyway as her eyes close. The city-state leaders would surely still prefer to pursue any alternative that doesn't lead to annihilation; there are still the Garlean citizens to consider, after all. If anything, having a guiding hand in choosing the new emperor would be the best route to take...]

It's funny how you should care little and less about becoming emperor for yourself. A mantle like that would just hold you back; is that not right?

[And then there's the matter of him literally coming back from the grave to assume it if he did choose to, but the truth is sometimes stranger than anything any headcase could make up.

When she looks back up at him, her expression gains a hooded sort of darkness to it, serious and yet poised on the edge of tossing reason to the curb to cross the length of the pool and do... something; she isn't sure whether she'll hit him with a closed fist, try to slit his throat (again), or something altogether different if she tries.]

Perhaps you did save my life. And perhaps I should thank you for it. But if I were to suddenly lose all that power you so admire, you wouldn't care a whit about me anymore, let's not pretend otherwise.

[She glances at her nails like this is casual talk about the weather.]

That said, I suppose this is just fate catching up to us. And since I haven't lost my touch...

[Her eyes slide up again as she grins sharply; her nails curl hard into her palm.]

...I suspect you may want to do something more than just talk.

Precisely. You of all people would understand.

[ How much he presumes she understands is true and how much of that are his own fevered and obsessive imaginings has yet to be determined. It may never be determined. He has many, many fevered and obsessive imaginings about her. And that look that she is suddenly giving him will no doubt contribute to many more in the future. ]

Your power is too innately you to be lost so easily. Do you worry about such things?

[ He feigns curiosity, eyes narrowing and a subtle rise in his tone... but he has already decided upon the answer for himself. ]

Do you wish for such things?

[ But he wouldn't mind her own thoughts on the matter. Look, he can hold a conversation! But oh, the sharpness of her smile... he takes a long breath in, then lets it out just as slowly, lingering ever so contentedly in the moment. ]

I would settle for simple talk, but I would enjoy the application of that touch you claim to have not lost.

[ There is something almost... enamored about the way he gazes at her from across the hot spring. He is enjoying this, enjoying her, though they sit several fulms apart. And he is convinced that whatever her next response might be, he will find delight in it. ]

[She's not convinced, truth be told; her head cocks to the side, and her gaze in a different direction entirely. When her focus returns to him, though, she stands up, shoulder-deep in the water at her height, and crosses the spring to him.

A moment for consideration, spent drilling cool blue eyes into his, and then she opts for the raw force method over all else, climbing onto his lap fearlessly... and trying for his throat with her hands, intending to push his head hard against the rocks.]

How many people have climbed upon your seat with you with the very same intentions, I wonder?

[And how many of those failed, she would add, except that part's hardly in question. There's a sort of electric effect to her hands, suffused with... some kind of dark energy typically used for shielding and protection.

It's odd; she looks neither enamored nor hateful, but interested in a way that's only mildly personal at best. Zenos is only half a human tops, made that way by sheer nurture, but guilty of a myriad of things even his peculiar brand of sociopathy can't excuse. And yet... she doesn't hate him. Annoyed by his insistence upon that bizarre worldview, at times, certainly, but not enough to not want to try her luck at a perfect opportunity like this one.

He can buck her off. Easily, in fact. Leverage is hardly an issue here. The question is, will he?]

Suffice it to say, I haven't lost it. So for now, I suppose I could give you a good spin...

[ It was good at first that she was not currently in contact with the Scions, that they were all busy with their own respective things, because she was not entirely sure how to tell them that Zenos had shown up on her front door (or as near as, her FC). She's pretty sure Y'shtola had somehow figured it out regardless, and Thancred probably knew because he had an information network to put the Rogue's guild to shame. Urianger and maybe Alphinaud were the most likely to be understanding. She's pretty sure Alisaie would just repeatedly try to assert dominance through non-combative means. Krile would want to keep her distance. She doesn't think G'raha would approve and she doesn't think Estinien would care.

It's too exhausting to think about beyond that, so she hasn't actually... told any of them yet. Formally.

Putting aside the HOW of it, she wasn't about to let the man just wander around aimlessly. Gods only know what would happen THIS time if he got bored, but he needs a hobby.

No, seriously, he needs a hobby that isn't trying to fight her just for the sake of FEELING something (why, why can't shame or remorse be first on the list)-- or whatever it is he's so obsessed with fighting her for. Hells if she knows.

He's been given a room.

What the fuck.

Zenos has a room at her fucking Free Company estate.
How the fuck did this happen?
Why?

Okay, so admittedly a part of her is curious to see what he'd do with it, it's just... the REST of her is afraid that she'll walk in and find the walls painted with the blood of his enemies and lined with the corpses of his prey or something (... What? He's not exactly the easiest man to predict. Or maybe he is, and she's just bad at it.).

All of this has led Ziva to stand in front of Zenos' door with a bag of food from The Last Stand. That morning she'd left to deliver a commission only recently finished, told him he was welcome to use anything inside the storeroom. It should've been a decent starting point as she was constantly creating or buying things and then shoving them in there. Beds, sofas, armchairs, tables, replicas of crystal towers, false windows, trophies (Ixion horns, weapon busts, pixie wings), and so on. It's been a few hours, so surely he's managed something, right?

She's silent for a few moments longer before she finally raises a hand to knock and wait for a response. ]

Open RP Post

o7!

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Care to continue?

Absolutely!

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and now for something completely different

It's always a good time for surprising things in hot springs

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