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jenovahh · 3 years ago

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The Honey Pot - Ch. 22 - The Echo

You stare at Elidibus, confused, yet intrigued as his query strikes a chord within you. “The Echo?” you parrot back at him, your rush to eat breakfast before your usual spar with Zenos forgotten. “I’m afraid I haven’t. What is it?”

Elidibus maintains his easy smile, ruby eyes twinkling with the unknown. “You’ve been thinking about what I had said last time, have you not? About your paranormal abilities?”

Furrowing your brow, you stare at him, concerned. “How do you know--”

“In Gyr Abania, you had given thought to what I had said, and actively tried to use your powers.” He cuts you off, gaze boring into you as your distress grows. “Until that point you had unknowingly triggered it, reaching deep within to call forth a power you didn’t even know lay inside you.” Releasing your arm, his hand falls limply at his side. “It is amazing you have remained out of his sight this long...though I suppose for how your abilities have manifested, it would be easy to keep a low profile…”

Your face breaks up, not understanding what he’s saying. You feel as if you should cry, but you do not know if it is from sadness or fear or anger. He keeps speaking in riddles as if he knows who you are, but won’t say a word about it. “What do you know about me?” You ask, practically begging with the desperation in your tone, reaching to clasp his hand between yours. “Do you know something about me? What is the Echo?”

Elidibus glances down at his hand clutched between your own, flexing his fingers slightly. A look of pity pulls at his features as his free hand comes up and rubs against the back of your own, his skin soft to the touch and smooth like porcelain. “I suppose there is no harm…” he trails off, eyes looking off to the side for a moment before they glide back to you. “Very well. You are free to do as you wish in the evenings, correct?” He asks, to which you nod in affirmation. “Excellent. Meet me out in the gardens this evening, after you’ve eaten your supper. Then, I will explain what I can.”

Giving you a final, reassuring pat on your hand, he pries his from your hold, crossing his arms behind his back. “If you worry about either Lord Varis or young Zenos, do not worry, I have way ways.” He finishes with a small smile. Nodding, he makes a little shooing motion. “Go on, I’m sure I’ve delayed you enough. Surely your breakfast is getting colder by the second and I know Lyngsath detests microwaves.”

Nodding, you purse your lips together turning around, heading straight for the kitchens. When you take a quick glance behind you, Elidibus is still there, eyebrow raised as you shake your mind free of thoughts and head straight for your destination.

When you greet Lyngsath it is absentmindedly, giving him a silent wave as he deposits your still warm breakfast on a plate before you. Thankfully Lyngsath is understanding and doesn’t take your sudden silence personally, merely setting a warming cup of tea with two cubes of sugar next to your breakfast and going on his way, leaving you to your thoughts.

Your mind was going malms a minute trying to think of what The Echo could possibly mean; and what it meant for you. Elidibus had always seemed strangely cryptic, but now more so with his recent actions as if he was using you to prove a theory of his. Would he shine light on why you felt a strange sense of ease, a weird sense of familiarity around him? Did he know you as a child?

Did he know what happened to Minfilia?

Your silence as you stewed in your thoughts of course did not go unnoticed by Zenos, though he refrained from commenting on the matter. You could tell he desperately wanted to ask, but for reasons unknown he kept to himself. You wonder what he must think of you, his bodyguard, once so confident and sure, now looking as if they might break from the strain of their job.

If only he had known you had never signed up for any of this.

Somedays you wanted to bawl and tell him everything, especially that night he had held you as you cried. You wanted to tell him how you were just a girl looking for answers on her missing friend, joining the police in hopes of climbing the ranks to find clues. And instead, you had gotten yourself involved with possibly one of the largest crime lords in history, with no way out to tell any kind of news station or authorities without putting everyone at risk.

To top it off, your only comfort was in the arms of the son of said crime lord, who you may or may not like more than you had originally planned.

“You’ve been quiet all morning,” Zenos begins, drawing your attention from the reflective ceiling above. He had been scribbling away at some documents or whatever for a while, and it looked like he had finally had enough of the quiet. However, his phrasing put the ball in your court, said as an observation and not an outright question.

“Yeah.” You respond, sparing him a glance. He hasn’t looked away from his desk yet, and you sigh, wondering what you should say. “Just...a lot on my mind.”

“It’s unlike you to not speak it.” He responds swiftly, his pen moving with ease across the paper. “I will not pester you, but I will also not allow you to drown in your grief.” He flips the paper over into his pile of finished documents, beginning to work on the next. “You always become this way around death. You have been blessed with an innate talent for combat, but lack the heart to truly revel in battle.”

Frowning, you glare at him from your space on the couch. “I enjoy fighting.”

“Enjoying the battle is the same as truly reveling in it.” Zenos responds, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. To him, perhaps it is, for you’ve already gathered that he experiences things so much differently than you. Tempering your anger, you take a calming breath and keep a cool head.

“What do you mean by reveling in the battle? Do I seem upset when we fight?” You ask, genuinely trying to figure out what on earth he could mean.

Zenos pauses his writing to gaze at you from beneath his lashes, almost stealing your breath away. “I must answer your question with another: What do you feel when we fight?”

He gives you a moment to think on it, to analyze your feelings about your previous duels. Most mornings you’re just focused on the warm up and the comfort of routine, even back when you hated him with every fiber of your being. Deep down you couldn’t deny you looked forward to your sparring each morning, having never found anyone near your level of skill. Whether it be grappling each other until someone was flat on their back or Zenos’ practice blade at your throat, you always found yourself having fun and enjoying the match.

“I feel...happy.” You admit, the words sounding strange but no less truthful. Really, there was no other word better to describe it. Looking at him he seems almost surprised by your response, but he quickly schools his face back to one of indifference.

“But you do not feel the rush of blood? The time between the seconds?” He questions, staring at you fiercely now. There is a passion in his eyes you have only seen a few times, capturing your attention entirely. “To revel in battle, Honey, is to give yourself over completely to your desire to fight. Even in our tamest of duels, I experience a bliss that I cannot attain anywhere else. Whether it is the feel of your fist connecting with my face, the sound of my own breath as I push my body to keep up with your own, there is no greater joy than giving myself to battle.”

“Well that doesn’t sound so bad--”

“I wasn’t done.” He cuts off, eyes pinning you in place. He gains a far away look, as if lost in a fantasy. “I confess, I often think about what it would be like to be on the receiving end of your rage; to experience firsthand the flame of your fury as your hands wrap themselves around my throat and snap my neck. To feel my blade slice through your flesh and bone, to know the grueling pain of your hand breaking my arm--”

He releases a shuddering sigh, one that almost bordered on lewd. “Oftentimes in the early days of when I had started as my father’s hitman, I would give myself impossible odds. I had entire swathes of gang members at my disposal, but nothing could stop me from entering hideouts with nothing but myself, and my sword.” He smiles as he loses himself in his memories, eyes twinkling. “I would return home covered in blood, always scaring the house staff, but happy. Each brush with death, each time I barely escaped with my life, I felt such bliss.” His smile falls. “And then one day, nothing. I felt nothing.”

While listening intently, your concern mounted with each word, but especially at how defeated he had sounded at the end.

“Perhaps I had desensitized myself to the thrill. It was not until I had met you that I had met that same feeling once more.” He gives you a surprisingly warm smile, a feeling of affection so strong that you could not mistake it for anything else.

"It is a wonder you're still alive given how you placed yourself in danger." you comment, unsure how to really respond. What did it say about him mentally that the only way he could feel was when his life was in jeopardy? That his father cared so little for him that it didn’t matter to him that his son returned home drenched in the blood of his kills?

"I am a warrior without equal," he responds, as if it was a force of habit. However, his eyes turn ravenous upon you, the flame of desire burning within them. "Or, so I had thought."

Feeling warm beneath his gaze, you decide the ceiling is suddenly interesting again. "Well, I'm glad that at least I can calm you down from doing anything stupid." You tease, trying to turn the conversation back toward lighter spirits.

"Would that I could say the same for you, my beast."

The severity of his tone is enough to catch your attention immediately, watching as he slowly stands from his desk. He slowly strolls around it, prowling toward you with measured steps as he doesn’t let you break eye contact for even a second.

As he nears your place on the couch, you move to sit up but he’s already keeping you in place with one hand as he braces himself to hover just above your prone form on the couch. One hand rests upon the back of it, while the other rests upon the arm where your head is. Like this, his hair slips from its resting place upon his shoulders, wisps of the golden strands tickling you even through your clothes. You're painfully aware of just how large he is, his broad shoulders leading toned biceps. A muscled back leading the way to shapely glutes.

Your legs part without you realizing it but there is no hint of smugness in his gaze, only a need to possess, to claim. "Zenos?" you murmur, tongue swiping across your lips in an unconscious show of nerves, eyes gazing up at the Garlean as he crowds even closer.

"Do not go and do something stupid." He hums, eyes searching yours as if daring you to speak against him. "Your behavior as of late has been concerning. You have become driven, but dangerously so." His beautiful eyes narrow on you scrutinously. "Are you planning something?"

Swallowing thickly, you once again find it hard to lie to him. You weren't a huge liar in the first place, but his constant honesty made you feel nothing but guilty for even the whitest of lies. "What would I even have to plan?" you whisper, taking your hands to reach for his wrists, gently rubbing along them.

"Ever since I had told you my father could be responsible, you have acted strangely." He comments, shifting his hands to where they now rest on either side of your head and his legs trap your own between his. "You cannot afford to do anything to him. Not from your position."

Something in the way he emphasizes you specifically hints that he knows something you do not, a feeling you're getting quite tired of. However, he's right; there's no way you can take down Varis solely from Zenos' side. His own father has seen fit to not keep him apprised of his own machinations as of late, leaving both of you in the dark. His campaign trail would be starting soon, and you couldn't afford to waste any time looking for scraps of info while he prepared to get into a position of power.

"Even now I can see the gears in your head turning." Zenos huffs, grabbing you by the chin and fixing your focus to him. "You are planning something. Something stupid."

Face crumpling with indignation, you huff back at him. "Planning is a bit too advanced for a savage isn't it?" you sneer, knowing he can feel your pulse pounding beneath his fingers.

"Your savagery doesnt make you stupid," he chuckles, rubbing his thumb along your chin. "But your inability to quash your feelings and think rationally does."

Offended, you shove his hand from your face. "Have you ever thought your inability to feel has alienated you?"

"It's cute, the way you try and strike back at me, my beast." He laughs, the hand you swatted away reaching down for your left thigh and hitching it on his hip. "I believe I've shown myself quite capable of having feelings. The only difference between us is I am in control of mine." He shifts his right arm to brace his weight upon his forearm instead of his hand, bringing him steadily closer. "I have no need of shame, or fear." The more he speaks the more you are enraptured by him, mesmerized by his voice even as he lays your heart bare before you.

"How do you see right through me?" you ask, breath ghosting across his lips as you hitch your other leg around his hip, pulling him to you.

Unable to resist temptation, he kisses you, lips hungry yet moving slowly across your own. Your legs tighten around his hips even as he pulls away."I see only what you allow me to." He grins, flipping his hair from his face. "You've convinced yourself for so long I am some unfeeling monster," he growls as his left hand begins to untuck your blouse from your pants, "buy I have always made my feelings clear. You have been ignorant to them."

"That's not true," you insist, despite arching your back to allow him to free the fabric from your backside as well.

"Oh? Then what would you call me saving your life in that dump the night we met? Did I not feel interested?" He questions, voice like a balm over your senses, pulling you deeper and deeper into his spell. "When I had learned of your first kill, did I not feel pride?" Your arms loop around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he leans closer, burrowing his nose against your neck and breathing you in. "Do I not feel something too strong for words when you are in my arms?"

His tongue licks a sensual stripe on your skin and you moan despite him barely touching you. "You...I want to hate you. So badly." You whimper as he roughly shoves your pants down a sudden burst of impatience.

"Don't." He responds, as if it is that simple. "Merely stay by my side, and belong to me." He demands, but it comes out as a whisper, a secret that only the two of you share. Trapped beneath him you are arrested by the earnest look in his eyes, a determination that mixes with traces of desperation as if he is convinced you will abandon him. "Promise me."

Reaching up to caress his face, your heart twinges in pain, finding it hard to deny him. “I promise.” You breathe, trapped in his eyes as he once again presses his lips to your own, the kiss passionate, but charged with so much feeling it is overwhelming in its intensity. It should frighten you how far you have fallen for this man, your heart already knowing the words your lips will not speak.

So you touch him instead, letting your hands rove across his body as clothes are shed and you’re pressed face first into the leather of the couch, your skin sticking to it uncomfortably, but not so much so that you would even think about pushing him off you as he fucks you into it. The door is locked but employees are still in the building, and even the possibility of someone getting close enough to the door to hear how you wail for your boss to fuck you harder does nothing to deter this need to show him you won’t be going anywhere.

At least, not while he’s watching.

The hour is late; all of the housekeepers and maids have gone home, tending to their own families while you creep out your room and try to sneak to the backdoor. Moonlight pours in from the windows by the grand staircase, the halls eerily quiet to the point it is slightly unnerving. Hazarding a cautious glance at the winding stairwell, all seems well, praying to whatever gods will listen that both Varis and his son are asleep.

Creeping through one last hallway, you flash your badge at the backdoor, allowing you to slip out into the backyard without the security alarm giving you away. The grass is lush even beneath your slippered feet, the winter chill biting into your skin, making you huddle further into your puffy coat. Glancing over the garden, all that remains are a few choice evergreens, but the majority of plants lie dormant, waiting to bloom in the Spring. Given that the majority of plants are currently without leaves, you find that you cannot spot Elidibus immediately.

The garden is still well lit, but you find you cannot find the Emissary anywhere. Biting down on your lip, you trudge further into the garden, the sprawling grounds somehow seeming larger in the cover of night. You are drawn to the fountain in the middle, eyes gazing at the turbulent waters, losing yourself in the memory of Zenos’ arms bringing you close and pulling you from its murky waters.

“Deep in thought?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Elidibus’ voice, losing your footing as you slip on the smooth stone that makes up the fountain, bracing yourself for a chilly bath that does not come. Unclenching your eyes, you find ruby ones staring back, realizing Elidbus’ arm is looped behind your back as he saved you the trouble of having to explain why you had hypothermia in the morning.

“Well, I suppose that answers my question. I thought you would have sensed my presence.” He hums, setting you to stand up straight, his touch gentle and sure. This is the most contact you’ve ever had with him, at least physically, and the fact that it feels familiar somehow unsettles you. Visibly so.

“Careful, Honey. Eorzeans have a saying that if you make a face, it’ll get stuck that way.” He laughs to himself, ruby eyes twinkling with mirth. Staring at him, he is still dressed in one of his trademark, white suits, as if it is not nearly midnight. He looks as clean and coiffed as he does any other time, making you feel a little ridiculous for being out in the cold in your puff coat and pajamas.

“What do you mean...sense your presence? Don’t you mean ‘heard you coming?’” You frown, brushing yourself off, trying to fix your hair so you don’t feel nearly as crazy in comparison.

His eyebrows raise up into his hairline, before his lips twitch as if to grin. “Perceptive.” He finally does smile, except it feels so familiar and warm and...as if he admires you. “I’m glad to see that has not changed about you.”

Frustrated, you shove past him and march toward a nearby bench, deciding to sit down. “You keep saying that-- that you know me or something. But I’ve never met you until you came here.” Staring him down, you put on your bravest face, trying your best to be mad at him. “I want answers. Why did you call me here?”

Shrugging, Elidibus turns to face you, grin leaving his face. “Very well. I will answer you to the best of my abilities.” He begins, sliding his hands in his pockets, looking relaxed and at ease. “The Echo. I asked what you knew of it, correct?”

You nod, and he continues. “Judging by your silence, you were unable to find anything out about it, which is good. In truth, it is a wonder you have lived this long without finding trouble…” he murmurs, seeming to think on something for a moment before returning his focus to you. “But I digress. Let me present you with another question then; do you believe in magic?”

Pursing your lips, you think about your experiences as a child. Like any country, Hingashi had its share of magicians, from cheap parlor tricks to professionals who had their own shows. You knew it wasn’t really magic, that something within you said you would know magic if you really saw it.

Having your answer, you shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve always felt ‘magic’ isn’t real magic.”

Chuckling, Elidibus nears you, pulling his hands from his pockets. “An interesting answer...which will make explaining this tale, much easier.”

Waving his fingers, you watch as motes of light shine from his very hands, small and glowing like fireflies in the dark. They swirl into a galaxy, a beautiful, blue-green star appearing at the center of it all. “In a time before time, did mortals live for an age. Society was nothing the way it was now. Technology had reached a point of advancement unheard of on this star. The very sky was littered with creatures of all shapes and sizes. But most importantly...the people had the power to create.”

The lights change into spiring towers, much like the skyscrapers of Kugane, but the architecture was unlike anything you had ever seen. Robed figures walked their streets, clutching crystal-like shards to their chests, conversing, living.

“The Ancients, they were called, such terribly magnificent beings they would seem to the mortals of this age. Able to create concepts on a whim, breathe life into creatures and inventions unheard of. This was not an ability given to a select few you see, but a gift bestowed upon all in that world. Surely such power would cause strife would it not?” He pauses for a moment, his voice sounding strangely fond. “No, it was not so. The Ancients took their power to create and used it to further their society. All were equal in this world, even those on the Convocation.”

“The Convocation?” You ask, watching the lights change to match his story.

“The Convocation was a group of fourteen people, chosen to head academia for the entire star.” Elidibus explains, his voice taking on a note of sadness. A group of fourteen figures in robes stand in a circle, all of their robes black save for one in the purest white. The city shimmers brightly behind them, creating a dazzling image. “The best and brightest minds the star had to offer, gathered together to push the star into a new age.” The lights change, the hues of blues and greens changing to oranges and reds. “The best and brightest, gathered together to save the star from certain doom.”

You watch mystified at the panic; the ash and fire as the Convocation scrambles about, their faces looking lost and full of despair. “The laws of life itself were being unwritten, the Convocation at a loss of what to do. It was then that the idea of summoning a god to save them from their peril had been given, but only at the cost of civilian lives.” Elidibus’ voice is hardly above a whisper, his eyes seeming almost as transfixed on his story as you are.

“Yet there were those who stood against such an idea, calling the others cowards for placing themselves above their friends, their colleagues. Were they not all created equal? For what reason were those on the Convocation exempt from sacrifice? Could no one else ascend to their seat?” The robed figures visibly split apart, the divide in how to proceed clear. “It was with this contention that the Convocation had split in two, each summoning their own god. One, from the lifeforce of civilians, the other, with the lives of those who abhorred the very idea.”

Figures of light twinkle into existence, one tinged with a deep, dark purple, the other shining a striking white light. “The gods had warred and fought, both doing their best to fulfill the outcry of their people. But it would be the ones who sacrificed themselves who would win in the end. To save the star, the god had severed the star into bits, saving it the only way they knew how.” The blue-green planet returns, visibly fracturing, breaking to glistening shards of dust adrift in a sea of stars. “It is for this reason that most mortals do not live for more than a century, that the art of magic is lost to time…” The image vanishes, your eyes snapping up to Elidibus’. “Or so, the legends say.”

Confused, but intrigued, you hang on his every word. “What does that story have to do with the Echo?”

“The Echo is what remains of the Convocation.” He answers, coming to take a seat next to you. “Legend says that over history, that across the many shards, the spirits of the Convocation persist. They manifest in different ways...Othardian legends such as Azim and Nhaama were rumored to have the Echo, for they were of the sun and moon, gaining spectacular powers based on the respective time of day.” Shrugging, he brushes a stray hair from his face. “Or perhaps you have heard of Krile Baldesion, a scholar a few centuries ago said to have the power of clairvoyance.”

Giving you a small smile, one you could almost call boyish, he gives you with a knowing look. “Or even someone named Honey, gifted with supernatural combat skills and strength.”

Standing to your feet, you stare down at him wide eyed, shock dancing through your veins. “A-Are you saying,”

“I’m not saying anything, Honey.” He murmurs, voice carrying to you on the night wind. He stands with you, taking a solitary step toward you that has you taking one back. “It is merely a legend after all; whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

The wind blows but you do not feel its icy sting, too focused on trying to make sense of what the Emissary has told you. He wouldn’t make you come out here just to mess with you, he doesn’t seem the type, but it makes no sense. Those images; he had created those, he had used magic. The Echo, did he really think you had it? What did it mean for you?

Wanting to scream, you opt instead to let tears silently roll down your cheeks, as you feel that once again, you are way in over your head. Something bad is going on, something bad, and you landed yourself right in the middle of it. “Why did you tell me all this?”

Elidibus stands there in silence, his eyes giving off that strange glow that you know isn’t a result from the lamps that keep the grounds lit even at night. He regards you with a sudden seriousness you had never felt from him before, gaze unflinching as his lips part for his next words: “I believe even you can feel a certain...attraction between the two of us Honey.” He crosses his hands behind his back, eyes taking on a darker note. “Not in the way you feel for Zenos, oh no, but a magnetism that despite us never having met each other, it is as if we have known each other our whole lives.” Tilting his head back, his gaze could only be described as intrigued. “Perhaps, we knew each other in a past life.”

The lights on the grounds flicker, wind howling loud in your ear, the breeze numbing your legs and killing any feeling in your face. As the lights get darker, the wind louder, you finally bring your arms up to block the abrupt gales, the last thing you see being ruby eyes in the dark before the lights go out entirely. The wind stops as fast as it came, rays of light shining through your arms as you finally lower them to find yourself alone.

Looking around, Elidibus really is gone, leaving you with more questions than answers. Frustrated and sleepy, you stumble your way back into the estate, unaware of ice blue eyes watching you from on high.

“We’re here, ma’am.”

Looking up from your phone, you lock the screen as Yuyusho pulls into the driveway of the Garlond estate. Much like home, the flowers and shrubs all lie dormant, biding their time until Spring. You’re not surprised to find that Cid is not outside waiting for you, dressed in some khaki shorts and a tacky, tropical shirt. Stepping from the car, you bid Yuyusho your goodbyes and a promise to be ready for him to pick you up in no more than two bells.

The door opens as soon as you press down upon the lever, making you silently pray that Cid doesn’t carelessly leave his doors unlocked as you step inside. Toeing your shoes off, you switch to your designated slippers, trying to not let your eyes dwell too long on a familiar large pair that sits in the cubby that has begun to collect dust. Taking a deep breath, you place your shoes in the cubby alongside them, making sure the door locks behind you and heading deeper into the house.

With as big as his house is, there’s no telling where Cid could be within it. As many times as you had been over here, you actually hadn’t had the chance to explore the sprawling grounds, usually chatting with Cid for a while in the kitchen before Estinien would surface from his hermit cave and fetch you to go train. “Cid?” you call, knowing that if he was on the other side of the estate there was no way he was hearing you. “Cid?” you call again, ambling down a random hall, hoping that you might just happen across him.

The house is quiet much like Varis’, except it doesn’t have the white noise of maids and such shuffling about, ensuring not a speck of dust lands upon his prized possessions. As you make your way deeper into the house, the rooms become less for leisure and more for business, beginning to house robots and magitek instead of plush lounge chairs and expensive cigars. One door catches your attention, clearly shut, but it doesn’t stop you from seeing if it will open.

With a simple touch of the button on the wall, the door slides open, cool air brushing over your face as the sounds of beeps and whirrs assault your ears. Before you stands a large piece of magitek of some sort, covered in a glossy, black paint, standing taller than it is wide. It looks as if it made more for battle than for peace, seeming out of place amongst the other things you’ve seen Cid create. Surely enough, it does belong to him, for the Ironworks logo is emblazoned on the side, though instead of neatly printed, it looks as if it was messily spray painted on.

“I see you’ve found Maggie.”

Spinning around, Cid stands behind you, leaning one broad shoulder on the doorframe as he gazes at the tall robot before you. “A real joy that one. Bet you wonder what I’m doing with an old war machine, huh?” He asks, pushing himself off the frame and stepping into the room, allowing the door to shut behind him. Dressed in some comfortable cotton pants and a matching t-shirt, you realize that this is the most casually dressed you have seen him. His usually brushed hair is now unkempt, his keen eyes watered down by obvious fatigue.

“She was my first piece of rebellion, that one. Wanted to prove to my father that there was more than just conquering and war and the glory of Garlemald.” He sighs, stepping past you, his eyes having never left the polished metal. “She’s made for battle. Made to withstand firing enough ammunition to bring multiple platoons to their knees.” He gently runs a hand along its leg, staring intently at the logo embellished on the side. “I had made her better, instead turning her from a war machine, into one capable of rescue.”

Pointing toward its center, you follow his line of sight to where a metal claw protrudes from the front. “With the amount of power she had, it was easy work to make her capable of moving entire tonnes of rubble to free trapped civilians. I was only twelve at the time.” Arm falling to hang limply at his side, he stares up at his trophy, a mix of bitterness and grief in his eyes. “My father hated it. Told me it would never find favor with the emperor.”

Frowning, you stand there unsure what to say, or how to comfort him. “I’m sorry.” An apology is all you can offer, wringing your hands together as he finally turns to face you.

“There’s nothing you need to apologize for.” He smiles, though it does not reach his eyes. “Come. Let’s go get us some wine to drink, hm?”

Deciding it best not to argue, you follow him out the room, silent the entire way as he makes his way to a sitting room furnished with two chairs and a fireplace he lights with nothing but a spoken command. Immediately, the room is further warmed by its crackling fire, but Cid goes the extra mile to offer you a downy blanket to help fight off the chill as the entire back wall is made of glass allowing you to see the rest of the grounds.

“I was surprised to hear you had wanted to visit.” Cid begins, grabbing two glasses from the counter and reaching for a bottle of wine. “Or rather, that you specifically had requested to visit. I had expected Varis to do something as underhanded to send you over to try and squeeze some info out of me when I am at my lowest.”

Heaving out a dry laugh, you graciously accept the glass of wine offered to you, burrowing further into cushy chair as you stare blankly into the fire. “I wouldn’t put it past him either, if it’s any consolation.” You joke, watching as he comes to take a seat in his own seat. Taking a sip of the wine, you let the flavors wash over your tongue, doing your best to seem sophisticated, but sure enough it tastes like...wine.

“In that case, I must ask, what is the reason for your visit, Honey?” He asks, taking a quick glance at your neck. “I see you are missing a certain piece of jewelry. Wearing something a bit less...conspicuous, perhaps?”

Shaking your head, you giggle, unable to mope for too long around him. “No, and if anything that really lets you know I came for myself and no one but myself. He is too busy on his campaign trail to pay me any mind.” You take a long sip, hoping it makes what you’re about to say a little bit easier. “I can’t lie that I did come over with ulterior motives but...really I also just wanted to ask how you were holding up.”

You don’t break eye contact with him, knowing the pain of loss in his eyes is reflected just as strongly in your own. Cid is the first to cave, a hand roughly dabbing away a tear that had managed to escape as he takes a long chug of his wine. “I would’ve gotten something stronger if I had known you were going to ask that.”

Genuinely worried, you watch as he finishes the rest of his glass in one go. “Cid? Are you...have you been drinking?”

Giving you a haggard glance, he has the sense to at least look guilty and ashamed before standing to his feet to lumber over to the counter, tilting the bottle lazily to allow more wine to pour forth. He nearly drains the bottle to where his glass is completely full, taking a sip to ensure none will spill over the edge as he makes his way back to his seat. Gingerly sitting, he keeps his glass upraised as he allows the chair to catch his weight, sighing deeply as he does so.

He takes another long swig, nearly draining a third of the glass before finally setting the glass on the small coffee table between you. “Maybe I should have grabbed a cigar…”

“Cid.”

He still looks ashamed, but you only display your concern, unable to judge him given how poorly you’ve been coping. “I’m...I’m hurting too.” Your voice cracks as you say it, vision warbling as tears catch on your eyelashes. Your face scrunches tight as you sniffle, a sob breaking free from your chest. “I miss him too.”

It hasn’t been long, barely even a month, and yet the pain has shown no signs of ebbing. The loss of Estinien still feels as fresh as it had when you both saw him be killed before your very eyes, your hearts struggling to accept that he really is gone.

Cid begins to tear up as well, spiraling into a sob much faster than you, hand coming up to cover his eyes as he sinks into the chair and lets it all go. The two of you cry and cry, able to share your pain with the only other person who could. With no next of kin, no friends, no coworkers, the only ones who would remember him were the two who at least ensured he didn’t die alone.

Quiet sweeps over the house as you dry your eyes, dabbing at them with your sleeve. You feel better, if only a little bit, unable to sob so openly at home without feeling like Zenos would break down your door and demand to know what's wrong. Cid dries his own eyes with a handkerchief, his breaths shaky and rough. “Gods...I think you needed that as badly as I did, huh?”

Nodding, you find while you can’t give voice to your feelings, you agree all the same.

“Thank you for that, Honey.” Cid reaches for his glass again, but decides against it, settling to thread his fingers together and get comfortable. “I loved him, you know. Like a little brother.” He mumbles, losing himself in the dancing flames. “I knew he could be more than just a thug. He had the skills to be more. And he was.” Shaking his head, he finally drags his gaze to you. “He loved you too.”

It stings just as much to hear it from Cid as it did from Estinien’s lips. “I know.” You whisper under your breath, unable to look at him, the two of you knowing just who you had chosen instead. “It’s why I want to avenge him. I...he didn’t deserve to die.”

Cid shrugs defeatedly, reaching for his glass absentmindedly and taking a small sip. “He was my bodyguard. I willingly put him in the position to put my life above his own. Was part of the job description.” He huffs out a weary laugh. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”

Shaking your head, you nearly crush your glass in your hand. “No. It wasn’t you.” Lips pursed together, you debate on whether or not you should say anything. You weren’t going to get anywhere by hesitating, and hesitating is exactly what got Estinien killed in the first place. “It was...it was Varis.”

Cid’s expression turns to be deathly serious. “Honey. That’s a severe accusation.”

“Do I sound like I’m not being serious?” You snap back, placing your wine glass down. “Varis was responsible, I know he was. Who else could it be? What other enemies do you have that would be so vile as to try and have you killed?”

Cid remains quiet, as if he wants to say something but is holding himself back. “Still,”

“Like that stuff they shot me with. I was still conscious. I could still feel the cold floor, could still hear, could still see. I just couldn’t fucking move--” your mind threatens to take you back into that moment: the regret, the pain, the trauma, but you press it down, “--I couldn’t move. It felt like my very being was being restrained.”

Cid only shakes his head, groaning as he begins to slouch. “I had hoped it would never come to this…” he mumbles, staring into nothing. “That wasn’t a tranquilizer they shot you or Estinien with.” He regards you wearily, blue eyes tired and not just from lack of sleep. “It was a destabilizer.”

“Destabilizer?”

“Does exactly what it says on the tin.” Resting his head on the back of the chair, he stares blankly at the ceiling. “The point of it is to render you helpless by causing your aether, essentially your life force to become unstable; it specifically targets you at level far past molecular. It targets your very existence and Varis is a fool and a coward for using it on you just to ensure his cronies didn’t kill you off before you could kill them.”

“Wait,” you sit up fully, truly grasping what he’s saying. “You knew it was Varis who had done this?”

“Who else could it be?” he slaps his hand over his face, dragging it down roughly over his beard. “And not for the reasons you think mind you. You see Varis and I have a long history, Honey. We are connected through my father.”

If there was ever a time to back out, it would be now.

Cid continues, ignorant to your inner turmoil. “Remember how I told you my father did research for the Empire? Well, it was a half truth.” You watch as he sits up straight again and reaches for his glass, clearly needing more liquor to get through this. “For a time, he did work for the crown directly. Until Garlemald finally threw in the towel that its days of colonizing and glory had long passed, and to take on a more...approachable image. This meant that my father’s more interesting projects could not be allowed to continue.”

“He was formally let go by the Emperor, but still had one of the best gold stars on his resume that you could get as a pureblooded Garlean. He found fault in the then Emissary’s decision, and continued to do his research in private.” It’s a wonder Cid hasn’t started to slow down at all given how much wine he’s downed, already you’re starting to feel the warm buzz of it beneath your skin. “It was when Varis had gotten into his late teens he had heard of my father’s studies, and used the crown’s money to secretly fund my father’s research. As you know I had already rebelled against my father’s ideologies, beginning to forge my own path. Had I taken but a moment to try and talk some sense into my father…”

Standing to your feet, you cross over to Cid, placing a comforting hand on his own. The look he gives you is appreciative, flipping his hand over to clutch yours in his own. “You don’t have to talk about such painful memories.” You tell him, unable to deal with the regret in his voice. He had made it seem like he had made peace with his father’s death, but in truth, it seemed like it tore him apart like nothing else.

“While I appreciate your concern, I don’t mind talking about it.” He urges, giving your hand a firm squeeze. “It’s therapeutic to tell someone else; for so long I had no one else to tell. Save Estinien.” He gives you a reassuring smile, coaxing you to return to your chair. “He’d want me to keep going.”

Nodding, you return to your seat, but not before grabbing the blanket he had offered you earlier, getting snuggled up. Cid takes a deep breath, preparing himself to continue. “Varis and my father had entered a parasitic, yet mutual business relationship. Varis would show up with a check, and my father would show his latest findings.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I must ask…” Taking a deep breath of your own, you let the question fly past your lips. “...how do you know about aether?”

Frowning, Cid looks plagued by too many sins for one to bear. “Aether is what my father researched. It is what he provided to Varis.” Groaning he leans forward, cradling his face in both hands. “My hands are as dirty as Varis’, Honey. Not from supporting the acts themselves, but for my own cowardice.” He sounds on the verge of tears, shoulders shaking as he tries to hold himself back.

“My father...he had found in his research that a certain demographic of people were immune to his studies on aether. The test subjects he had subjected to his experiments, they had all rejected anything involving aether. It would imbalance their very makeup, most times killing them.” Bitterly laughing, he runs a hand through his hair. “They were just a few gang members, right? Misfits and rejects. Unwanted children. Who would miss them?”

“But it was this way he had stumbled across the Echo.”

On the edge of your seat, you hang on his every word. “The Echo?”

“A myth made reality.” Cid explains, as if it’s nothing. “There are strange forces at work in this world, Honey. Forces that give people extraordinary, dare I say, supernatural abilities. I am a man of science, as was my father, but there was no refuting the hard evidence that a select few were birthed with something special about them.”

“It is merely a legend after all; whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

“There are people with...the Echo?” You urge Cid, desperate for him to keep going.

“There are. Well. If there are any left.”

That statement alone chills your blood to the bone.

“What...what do you,”

Cid pins you in place with a grave stare. “What I am about to tell you...promise me you will never tell another soul. Promise me, Honey.”

Nodding, you feel the weight of your own promises pile high. “Not a word.”

Satisfied, Cid clasps his hands in front of him, resting his elbows upon his thighs. He hasn’t looked away, hardly even blinked. “I’m not ignorant to Varis’ more underhanded dealings. I am sure of the things he has you do.” He pauses, having to breathe a calming breath before continuing. “Those who have the Echo are said to be descendants of some of the very first beings from a time before time. A world so far away and long ago that is beyond our comprehension. Mere shells of their former selves according to the stories, but no less amazing and awe inspiring to the average man.”

“And it is for this reason Varis had hunted them down and experimented on them.”

Your hands slowly reach up to cover your mouth as it hangs agape, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as you realize Cid is completely serious.

“I am not a good...I’m not a good man, Honey. Would that I even had an iota of your courage...the people I could have saved…” Cid does cry then, too overwhelmed by his own shame. “I was still mostly a child when I had left home, crossing over to Kugane when I was only nineteen. I had sworn off all that my father had done, not just because I despised his methods, but because I was afraid.”

Tears stream down his face in a river, catching in his beard. “When I had finally resolved to try and bring to light the atrocities my father had committed, Varis had already risen to great power with his own business...and my father…” He chokes out a sob, “--he had been killed. Murdered in cold blood by one of his own experiments, and when I had returned home to Garlemald to give him a proper burial, I thought to make things right by at least turning Varis in. But I was too late. All of his research, his labs, everything, had been reduced to ash.”

"I had nothing, nothing to prove my father or Varis' crimes. It’s haunted me for years, and will continue to do so to think of all the innocents I let disappear due to my own cowardice…" He buries his head in hands, running his hands through his hair like a madman. "I fear I am beyond saving."

Staring into the fire, the sound of screams fill your ears. "You said...Varis has been abducting people...for years?"

"Yes." Cid’s voice sounds further away. "Anyone suspected of having the Echo, stolen from their beds under the cover of night…"

"You must hide."

Minfilia's panicked voice wakes you from your sleep, her arms wrapping around you urgently as she pulls you from the bed. But a child of eleven years you have grown too big to carry, but she does as best as she is able. "Minfilia?"

Your head is pounding, the memory fading in and out of your mind.

"I can't explain, my dear." Tears stream down her youthful face, Minfilia, who has always looked so mature to your childish view but is still a child herself. "But I need you to hide. Hide and don't make a sound. Not one peep, do you understand?"

"But why, "

"Promise me!" She shrieks before quieting her voice, quickly urging you into the bathroom. Grunting she grabs the small vanity and pulls, revealing a small crawl space within the wall. "Get in."

Darkness seems to close in around you, your breath caught in your throat.

There's a chorus of male laughter, the sound of several feet shuffling into the apartment. "We heard you had a gifted kid here...figured we'd take em off your hands."

"You're looking for me?" Minfilia asks immediately, her own footfalls soft and delicate compared to what must be huge men.

"You're a bit old to be a kid, huh?" The masculine voice asks, seeming to pause. "You ain't hiding anything from us, are you girly?"

"Search the apartment you'll find I'm alone," Minfilia takes a deep breath, "I had no way of knowing you were coming."

Your head won’t stop pounding and your lungs are struggling to breathe.

"Looks like your apartment is clean, but unfortunately for you...I can't go back empty handed."

"W-Wait,"

You hear a struggle, your tears starting anew as you press yourself against the vanity.

"Let go of me!"

"Let’s go boys. Maybe the boss will be happy to have some fresh meat to test on."

With small, grubby hands you do your best to push against the small vanity, weeping silently as you continue to hear Minfilia’s struggle. She’s crying, you can hear her, you have to help--

“Honey!”

Cid has you by the shoulders, grasping you fiercely, looking nearly distraught. As he realizes he’s pulled you back to the world of the living, he hardly even relaxes. “Honey. By the Twelve, are you alright?”

Reaching up, you feel dried tears on your cheeks, the skin sticky and taut. Hands shaking, you try to let the memory continue to play, but it won’t. Trembling, as soon as you try to force it past your hands trying to free yourself from your hiding place, your head throbs, causing you too much pain to continue further. Your lungs seize up, forcing you to stop trying.

“Honey, please, tell me what’s wrong.” Cid begs, shaking you desperately.

Deciding to stop causing yourself pain, wipe away fresh tears, shoving Cid’s arms off you. He looks noticeably hurt by the gesture, clenching his jaw as he stands straight. Your lungs struggle to breathe correctly as you try to calm yourself down, running a hand through your hair as more pieces fall into place.

The Echo was real.

Minfilia..she was protecting you.

The men who had searched your apartment...she had sacrificed herself to keep you safe.

Varis had to have kidnapped her. Which means...which means…

Standing to your feet, you bring Cid into a bone crushing hug, burrowing your face into his shoulder. He stands stock still for a moment, until his arms slowly wrap around your back and he returns your hug in full force.

“Cid...thank you.”

He knows not what you thank him for, but continues to accept the hug, the two of you needing the comfort more than words can explain. You urge him to do what you cannot: to get help. He might be unable to expose Varis’ crimes, but he could at least talk to a professional about working through his grief over Estinien.

Yuyusho awaits you outside, not at all bothered by you staying thirty minutes more than originally planned. Flashing him a thankful smile, you step into the car and allow him to drive you back home.

Home, where you begin to make a plan about how you were going to expose Varis for the horrors he’s committed.

Locking yourself in your room you immediately sit at your desk, yanking open the top drawer. Lifting the false bottom you find a small SD card, the same card Zenos had nearly crushed with his foot after he destroyed your original phone. Twirling it in your hands, you pull out a burner phone you had managed to swipe from an unsuspecting lackey, popping the card inside. The phone chirps as you turn it on, flipping through the apps until you pull up one of the many pictures on the device.

If you had to guess you must be maybe five or six years old in the picture, Minfilia’s petite frame still supporting you easily. Your face is covered in what must’ve been finger paint, the biggest grin on your face as you reach your grimy hands out toward the camera. Minfilia is all smiles as well, eyes crinkled with joy on her youthful face. She looks as if she maybe in her late teens, every bit a child as you were at the time.

A child who was taken away, never to be heard from again.

Looking back on your memories as a child through the eyes of an adult, you had always found it strange that such a teenage girl was tasked with the care of a child. Your memory is too damaged to recall Minfilia mentioning her parents, if she had them at all. Your own heritage was a mystery, Minfilia being the only thing you knew of having any sort of guardian, and even if she was far too young to take care of you herself, she was the closest thing you had to a mother.

Vision blurring as you start to cry, you continue to flip through the pictures, remembering a time that feels so far away. Those tendrils of warmth you had felt as a child being in her care, remembering her kindness and guidance as she raised you to the best of her ability. During your early teens you had resented her for a while, hating her for forcing you into a life of being a foster child, bouncing from home to home just so some couple could collect their check from the government. It wasn’t until you were nearly out of high school did you vow to find the reason for her disappearance, immediately signing up to join the police force.

You sailed through your training at the top of your class, surpassing men and women alike, your combat skills making you a force to be reckoned with. With the knowledge you have now, you realize it is only due to the Echo that you climbed as quickly as you did. With supernatural reflexes, no one stood a chance.

Resentment tried once more to find its way into your heart, thinking back on Elidibus’ words that in the past those blessed with the Echo had far more extraordinary powers, making you wonder why you were saddled with something so lame in comparison. It was only thanks to the more covert nature of your talents that you had been able to fly under the radar for as long as you had, at the cost of Minfilia’s life.

The next few days are spent pouring over every database you know you can find, unable to ask Zenos for help in trying to solve this mystery. If anyone knew where old records and things were kept, it would be him, but you couldn’t afford to tip him off to the fact you were a cop.

Or worse, the Echo.

What would he think, knowing the only reason you curb stomped him in a fight was due to some quirky ability? Zenos didn’t seem the type to believe in such tales, and would probably laugh about it to his father, who would then drag you to the closest testing facility where you’d never see the light of day again.

Groaning, you slam your laptop shut, throwing yourself onto your bed face first as you scream into a pillow. You were running yourself raw, hardly getting any sleep, often searching databases and old news sites until the sun came up. No matter what you tried, all you hit were dead ends. Varis had already committed enough crimes for several lifetimes, and he obviously wouldn’t suffer for any of them to come to light, especially as he starts his campaign trail.

Flipping over, you stare at the painting brushed onto the canopy of your bed, dragging your hand down your face. Loathe as you were to say it, you had no other choice.

You had succeeded in part of your mission. It was time for a change of paths.

Every foot step seemed final as you strode down the hall, head held high, not out of confidence, but knowing that if you allowed even a moment of hesitation to slip through the cracks in your armor, you would back down and you could not afford that.

Too many people were counting on you.

Those who have been lost. Those who can be yet saved.

Cid’s sins would become your own.

Estinien’s gift of life would drive you forward.

And maybe, just maybe, you could free Zenos from his father’s clutches and live a life of normalcy.

Funnily enough, the thought seems to be the most unrealistic, but it doesn’t stop you as you lightly knock upon the grand, mahogany door, waiting for an answer.

“Enter.”

Pushing down on the handle, Varis sits at his desk, papers neatly strewn across its surface. Dressed in a sleek turtleneck with reading glasses resting upon his nose, he looks surprisingly studious. Arching a strong brow, he regards you neutrally. “An unexpected visit. What do you want?”

Taking a deep breath, you relax your stance and lower your gaze. Erecting a balance of firm, yet demure, you gaze at your boss from beneath your lashes.

“I want to become your bodyguard.”

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV #ff14 #zenos #zenos yae galvus #THP

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