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Kiros Seagill’s Blood Pain Limit Break

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"Something… a powerful emotion… could have bound him to this world. Such things happen." —Lulu

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Setzer Gabbiani

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Ashelia Riot approaches the figure in the distance even before she fully realizes it's familiar to her. When she does, she hails Tai with a lift of her hand. "I've been to the place to the west. Luwateninyawawsa." Akhutai Urit: "Have you?" He's hardly surprised at her arrival, having sensed her coming. He looks west, towards where he was aware the settlement was located. "Anything interesting?" Ashelia Riot: "Not in regards to stolen electrope. But I visited some of their graves, and… it reminds me of home." Akhutai Urit: He presses his lips into a thin line before he sighs, "I imagine it would." He pauses, weighing how to continue before deciding to just ask, "So, how do you feel about it all? Your husband seems sympathetic." Ashelia Riot: "I don't know." She has to be honest with him, she knows - he's too good at calling bluffs for her to try it. "My own personal history aside…" But it's never that easy, and he knows it as well as she does. "…I would hesitate letting any artifact so powerful remain unaccounted for." Akhutai Urit looks at her and flashes a joyless grin, "Ah, I suppose we must focus on the task at hand otherwise we'll get lost in moral complexities." Not that it was particularly complex to him. "I agree. We don't know what the stolen electrope is capable of, but we've hints at what the material can do besides." He looks to the dome, he might have added something else, but he falls silent instead. Ashelia Riot: "And how are you?" she prompts, not a bit firmly. "I've seen the way you've been looking at that eyesore." She's been avoiding looking at it, which hasn't gone especially well. Akhutai Urit bares his teeth. "Angry. No, furious. I withheld myself from accompanying those who make for the dome because I would cause larger problems." He shakes his head, "I am hoping that with the passing of time, I will cool." He gestures outward, "So, here I am. Wandering." Ashelia Riot nods her understanding. She wishes she had the energy for anger. Somehow, for all the tumult of her own rage, the next two words that leave her are a horrified "Thirty years." Akhutai Urit: "Thirty years," he repeats. His eyes narrow, trying to determine the logistics of a apparent city using souls to keep its people alive for that long. Where did they get more before recently? "I am only aware of time passing in such ways from one cause. It's another shard, isn't it? A reflection?" Ashelia Riot: "It seems to be the case. Ahtyn suggested as much when she told me of her travels under the dome. Short of anyone else becoming possessed or worse, I suspect the worst this can go is that the Riskbreakers are embroiled in an interdimensional conflict." Or local politics. She doesn't know which would be worse. Akhutai Urit: "It was never going to be simple." He clicks his tongue against his teeth, "Well, whether or not the Riskbreakers end up wanting or needing to be involved in such a thing, I just may regardless. But that all depends on the people within. Surely, eventually, that dome may come down, and then what? We don't need another Garlemald. Especially one with so little regard for the cycle of life and death." He won't say that his own regard for life isn't the best in general, but souls, their aether, must return to the lifestream. Ashelia Riot toasts him with her canteen as she takes a long sip of water. "The Riskbreakers would certainly have knowledge to contribute, were it to come to matters of civil war." It's just shy of an admission of her thought process so far: that she would, if needed, rise to the cause. Akhutai Urit: "Ah, I imagine a group originally formed in Ala Mhigo would have information worth its weight in gold in regards to such causes." He makes a face, "A bit concerned when it comes to regulators and their apparent ability to remove memories, however. A governing body that can do that…" The tip of his tail twitches, "Let us hope thoughts of war are only because of paranoia rather than a distinct possibility."

Ashelia Riot: "Have you ever met my father, Tai?" Akhutai Urit tilts his head, eyes flickering as he attempts to remember if he had, "…I know -of- your father. If we've met, it must have been in passing at best." Ashelia Riot nods. "He… The Garleans altered his memory. They made it so he remembered my death at the hands of the Ala Mhigan Undercity." Akhutai Urit's expression twists before becoming something like sympathy, "I remember -fondly- their experimentations. Their alterations to the mind to make you a better fit as a weapon for them." The fact that he was never truly able to exact revenge still ate at him. "Did he recover from that? Or has it been an unfortunate matter of needing to accept that those memories are incorrect?" Ashelia Riot: "A mix of both. There was a moment when… that realization came to pass, for the both of us. But every now and then, I'll look at him, and it's like he's surprised to see me again, after so long." Akhutai Urit: "How lucky for him, then, that you are still here and that he can continue to create new memories of your being here. That bit of control will never truly be taken again. Even if you are lost later, he had you longer than they made him think." He makes an odd sound, almost like a soft growl, "Memories are important. Even they knew that." Ashelia Riot: "Of course they did." She had seen plenty, too, of how Garleans prided themselves on their own nostalgia. She spares the dome a distasteful glance - then, just as suddenly, her face softens. "Ah. My apologies, Tai - I had something for you." She reaches into one of her many pockets, and pulls out a hefty bag full of a white ashy substance - saltpeter. "That's fresh from the Undercity. Packs a bang that can get through yalms of solid rock." Akhutai Urit might have said something else. Something about the removal of the self. But Ashe's sudden gift surprises him. "Fresh from the Undercity…" His eyes flicker, "That's something I hadn't yet considered. When we are finished with this job.. is the Undercity capable of a constant supply?" Ashelia Riot smiles, and the expression is almost frightening in its sweetness. "I'm certain such an arrangement can be made, between friends." For once, she means it quite literally, at full face value. Akhutai Urit: "Between friends, yes." He returns the smile, but his comes off less sweet. It doesn't come easy for him. "Do you still wield axes?" Ashelia Riot: "I do." She says this with no small bit of pride, as she's had to regain her muscle mass since the events of Ala Mhigo's liberation. Akhutai Urit's smile becomes more of a devilish grin, "Excellent. I've created a sort of weapon you just might enjoy." He looks her over, "… I'll have to make some size adjustments but… A gift for a gift, shall we say? Though I can't promise when it will be ready." He was glad, then, for his gift for travel. Ashelia Riot: "Oh, it can take as much time as is needed. That said, of the group of Riskbreakers that are here… I doubt the delivery of an outlandish new weapon would particularly shock them." Akhutai Urit gives an amused snort, "Maybe if they decide it's impressive enough, it'll drum up a bit more business." Not that he really needed it. Ashelia Riot nods, thinking again - mostly of the possibility of war in Alexandria, or in other reflections. Then her expression falls completely flat. "Do you still feel aught of Belias?" There's no judgment in the question - far from it. "I feel nothing of Ultima. Nothing but her absence." Akhutai Urit looks almost comically disappointed for a moment, "Admittedly, I wish I did, sometimes. An innate control over time would be useful rather than relying on," he catches himself, "others. Though he never really got much of a chance to do much with me." He observes Ashe, "I think I'd be more worried of Ultima's mark, but. At least it is nothing that you feel." Ashelia Riot: "To know the past would be all too useful at a time like this." Even she isn't certain where she's going with that statement.

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Tidus and Yuna for Magic The Gathering

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SHUT THE FUCK UP THIS IS GONNA BE MY DESKTOP BACKGROUND UNTIL THEY RELEASE SQUALL AND RINNY LIKE THIS GOOD FUCKING BYE IMMA BOUT TO SCREAM AND EXPLDOE

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Nive is. So cute as a hrothgal.

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Bitten Bullets

Edge understood Ashe's feelings about being back in the desert well.

For her, it had been even longer since she had been separated from the dry sands and baking sun — she had been spending much of her time in Ala Mhigo. While Gyr Abania was no stranger to dusty desert climes, it was nothing like Thanalan. Edge even found Dalmasca to be similar; he didn't feel quite as connected to it as his wife did, but it had a comforting familiarity to it all the same. Shaaloani, they both knew, felt most like their adolescence in Thanalan.

As many deserts as he had seen — as many as he had bled on — none felt as dear to his heart as Thanalan, though. Despite Ala Mhigo's liberation, part of him always knew he would consider the Goblet his home. That was where the Riskbreakers were, after all.

Edge shook his head as he entered the boundaries of Sheshenewazi Springs. The sky was alight with brilliant crimson as the sun descended behind the distant peaks and the unnatural dome of dark lightning — but that did little to divert the sky's natural beauty. Even the ceruleum flames spewing into the air from the exhaust of the settlement's mining and engineering added a splash of color to the sky. After everything he had experienced with Garleans, he wasn't sure he would ever become accustomed to ceruleum, no matter how pretty it looked.

He found who he was looking for in the corner of the saloon: a pair of Hhetsharro (he had to keep repeating it in his head to avoid saying Miqo'te and possibly offending someone) with glasses of dark beverages he assumed to be whiskey.

"Hey, there," he said, putting on his warmest smile. "Mind if I join you? I'm a big fan of your show!"

The man, gruff and muscular enough that Edge suspected he had some Hrothgar (X'braax? Was that what they were called here?) ancestry like Nive, gave Edge a grunt. Based on what Edge had learned of their traveling troupe, he was the strongman. "We're not working right now," he said, swirling his drink in his glass.

The woman swatted him on the arm. "Nonsense!" In the show, she wore a frilly dress and performed a dance with other women that involved high kicks and showing off their legs. Now, however, her clothing was much more subdued. "Based on this dear's accent, he's from across the salt! We can't turn away fans who came so far to see us. Come and sit, darling."

The dancer scooted aside to allow Edge a seat at their table, and after he ordered a drink from a server, he joined her. "Thank you! I've got to say, your dances are nothing like anything we have in Eorzea — or beyond. I'm really amazed."

She swatted Edge's arm in the same way she did to the strongman. "Oh, you! I appreciate it."

"And you," Edge said, eyeing the strongman's muscles bared by his sleeveless shirt. "I thought I was pretty strong, but the way you lifted all those barrels was incredible." Of course, Edge suspected some trick to it, but he had to pile on the flattery a bit first. The man grunted and knocked back his drink, just as the server arrived with Edge's and the strongman's replacement glass. "One act we were hoping to see, though, was the sharpshooter. My wife thinks he's pretty dreamy," he said, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. "We were sad to see he wasn't part of your last performance."

The dancer giggled, but waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, that Talon Oakes. Loves to boast, but in the two years he's been part of our troupe, he's never missed a show. I'm sure he'll turn up." Despite her lighthearted tone, Edge caught a flash of worry behind her eyes. "Your wife's not wrong, though — he's a total dreamboat, and his fans all know it!"

The strongman's face twisted into a scowl as he swished the whiskey around in his mouth. "Yeah, yeah."

"Though the boasting is all part of his on-stage persona, you know," the dancer said with a wink to Edge. "Just like his name. Think of it as a little behind-the-scenes secret. He's always been a little cagey, if you ask me. But I think that just adds to his flair. Everyone loves a bit of mystery, no?"

"Cagey?" Edge asked. "How so?" He gestured to the barman to send over another drink.

"He ain't native to Shaaloani," the strongman said. "Don't know where he came from, but it's somewhere north. Doesn't talk about his family, but lives with a sister. Big on antique trading, too — dunno where he gets the pel for it, since we make crumbs. Guess big sis holds all the money and he's just a mooch. Still makes more than me, though, for some reason."

"I sense some rivalry there," Edge said with a wink to the strongman, which made the dancer guffaw.

"Talon's always had more of a stage presence," the dancer whispered to Edge, loud enough for the strongman to hear and roll his eyes.

These two knew Talon for a while, apparently, so if the dome had only appeared recently, that indicated to Edge that the Shetona had not come from the world inside it. He was still a little suspicious of the man who came out of nowhere to approach Ashe and tell her about people who might be after electrope, so tracking down the rest of Talon's troupe was their only lead since Talon himself didn't show up to the meeting he made with Ashe.

"Did he ever show an interest in that electrope stuff?" Edge asked.

The strongman gave him an odd look. Maybe the question came too soon — he looked closed off again just as he was about to relax his guard. "Why would he? I told ya, he trades in antiques. Old things. Not weird stones from another world."

"Right, right," Edge said. Clumsy and stupid. He doubted he would get anything worthwhile from them now, if they even knew more.

"What, are ya writing some kind of exposé on him or something?" the dancer asked, flicking open a hand fan. "Honestly, I'm a much more fascinating subject, darling."

Edge grinned at her. "I believe it. But no, I was curious to see guns in Tural and all that they can do." Maybe he'd try to find Talon's sister, or one of his contacts in the antique trade. He did mention something of the sort to Ashe, if he remembered correctly. "I better get going, though. Thanks for letting me sit with you. My wife's going to be so jealous!"

As they said their farewells, Edge left the saloon and found his gaze drawn to the dome, as usual. Maybe Talon wasn't involved in any of this at all.

Or maybe he was in trouble from digging into something he shouldn't have, on behalf of the Riskbreakers.

Shaking that unpleasant thought away, he went to go rent a rroneek and make his way back to the others.

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Tussling with yet another failed attempt to get into the pokeymans (I think rationally it's probably a genre that is Not For Me, like platformers, but that seems so fucking *stupid*), and I have Some Questions for People. Unfortunately I can only put one poll per post, so please be patient while I stack some reblogs.

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Slime are technically ashkin, formed when fluids voided from a corpse are left to fester on soil where they then absorb earth aether. As the deceased's aether claims minimal control over the congealed humors, their semi-intelligence makes them easy to control via magick

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It had been a good many years since Ashelia Riot had stumbled out of a bar including the one she owned, for any purpose, though her clumsiness had far less to do with the bottle of whiskey clutched tight in her fist and more with the colors streaming through the saloon's western windows.

Her feet took her west, out past Hhusatahwi's meager limits, following the retreat of the setting sun to the shelter of a boulder that overlooked the place where, a Tonawawtan had told her earlier in the day, the people of Luwateninyawawsa commemorated their ancestral dead.

There she wept as she had not wept in years—not even during the Final Days, when she'd mourned her right to die at peace in a free Ala Mhigo.

"Ashe?!"

She had not meant to cause Edge any alarm, nor did she think of her emotions as something that needed to be concealed from him or anyone else; she'd been intentional in laying a hand on his shoulder before exiting the saloon, but she could imagine how the suddenness of her departure had prompted his worry all the same. The solid weight and warmth of him settled against her shoulder in a mere instant, and he wrapped an arm around her to draw her close with all his familiar, gentle, easy comfort.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, in a voice almost too quiet for their solitude.

"I-I hadn't realized," she stammered, "how much I've missed this." She opened her swollen, tear-choked eyes to a desert landscape bathed in the deep, sensuous pinks of sunset. "And it makes me think of… of the girl I was. How she could never have dreamed of missing the desert."

The girl she'd been had done all in her power—lied, stolen, threatened, maimed, killed—to ensure she would not die in Thanalan. Ashe could only forgive her, honor her, even when faced with reminders that she should never have needed such brutality at all.

Edge heaved a deep sigh—one of relief, she knew all too well. "Oh, Ashe." He held her all the tighter, until her tears gave way to the chirping of insects and the bluster of the receding wind. "It's okay to look back on it, you know? No matter how much you've changed, or how far you've come." As he stared out at the last vestiges of daylight, something in his sad smile called to mind the few recollections she had left of his father. "I... I feel the same way."

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On this day twenty years ago, Rose Tyler tried to find out more about the mysterious man known as the Doctor by googling "doctor". Iconic shit.

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