mooglenet_backup | { Ten - Phone Call to Celes - Action in Figaro } (Slightly Forwarddated)

[Indeed, it looks like a rather nice sort of place, especially for a port town. He smirks in reply.]

Will you brandish your sword at me if I hold the door?

[And, without waiting for a response, he steps forward to do just that.]

If you're lucky, I can get over it.

[Which means not comment on it, as she moves ahead of him and into the place. Of course, if he's going to play the part of a gentleman kidnapper, she's going to make him work for it. So, for once in her life, she will let someone else figure out where they're sitting and who to talk to.]

[The establishment seems to be of the "seat yourself" variety, and he inclines his head towards one of the tables by the large picture windows before walking over and pulling a chair out for her. A gentleman always waits until a lady is seated before he makes himself comfortable.]

Much talk of luck. Should I be keeping my fingers crossed?

[Well, she did ask for this. So, she takes the gentleman route with a nod.]

Yes, actually, you should. Or I might decide to stop playing the part of a lady and go for what I know best.

[He grins, helping himself to a seat a moment later, neatly pulling it a bit closer to the table.]

Consider them crossed, then. [He tilts his head towards the window, causing his earrings to jangle softly.] So. What might I do to earn this life story of yours?

I didn't say full life story, just a little bit of it. Do you have any requests or shall I just jump into that special ability of mine that I only touched on briefly earlier?

[He puts both hands up in polite defense.]

That, I leave up to you. I did say I wouldn't actively pry, and I intend to be true to my word. Whatever you are comfortable sharing will be quite sufficient, love.

[She gives a soft, amused huff of breath before ordering a gentle wine for the evening. Once both drink orders are placed, she turns back to Balthier with a more serious look.]

I wasn't kidding when I said it's not a pleasant story. I'm what they like to call a Magitek Knight back home. At a young age, I was infused with the essence of an Esper. I later learned that the only way to harness the power of an Esper was to kill it.

[He listens with interest once the girl waiting their table has gone, gingerly resting his elbow against the table and settling his chin into his hand, rings bright against his tan skin.]

A victim of science, then. Those responsible were harvesting Espers? [Espers in Ivalice were few and far between; powerful and hostile beings that had to be defeated to be mastered, commanded. He couldn't imagine any mere human taking hold of and killing one of those.] They're far more like people where you come from, then. Your friend, Terra -- she is part Esper, is she not?

[He frowns, clearly disapproving of these faceless scientists in her story.]

Something like that. They wanted to create better soldiers. And that's what they got.

[She was fortunate that her drink order came just after his question, so she could hide her surprise better. Stirring the liquid in the glass just a little, she glanced back up at him.]

What makes you think that? [Terra's background isn't her story to tell.]

[He shook his head slightly, still resting against his hand.]

I thought I caught a whisper about it on the network some time back. Thought of it when I saw her change at the Sunleth Waterscape. Curious, nothing more. It's her own business, after all.

Her story, not mine.

[She picked up her glass and used it as a distraction, taking what most people would have considered a gulp and not a sip.]

There's more to the story, though. I was only the second person they put through the treatment. Kefka was the first and it went horribly wrong for him. It warped his mind. He was never the same after that.

[She's pretty sure she doesn't need to say how lucky she was that the same didn't happen to her. It could have ended terribly for her.]

[He offers a grim nod in reply, pausing to take a sip of his own wine before he responds properly.]

Enough to make one wonder why they would continue on with such a study, after being met with such poor results during the first round. [His tone is only slightly wistful, though enough to betray that he knows something of madness firsthand.]

I'm glad you did not suffer similarly.

They were desperate. They wanted to harness the power of magic. And they succeeded.

[She pauses to look at him with a tinge of gratefulness. She catches the tone, but doesn't comment on it.]

Thank you... so am I. Dealing with life is bad enough when you know you had a choice.

Desperation. Not an uncommon motivator. [He says this with some degree of distaste; man trying to harness the power of magic beyond natural means is always messy, in his experience. If the Empire hadn't wanted nethicite so badly...]

Have these experiments been put to an end? They're not continuing such studies where you're from, are they?

[She shares his distaste on the subject. Noting his tone, her eyebrows raise slightly, but again, she doesn't comment.]

I wouldn't know. About a year ago, I stopped working for the Empire. I know they were still working on harnessing the power of Espers, but I don't think anyone else had undergone the experiments Kefka and I did. I could be wrong, though. It's not like I kept tabs on them after I betrayed them.

[...And that was a bit more than she'd wanted to say, so she takes another "sip" of her wine as a distraction.]

I somehow feel that "betrayed" is the wrong term, when it's for a noble enough cause. [He pauses to take a sip of his own wine before lifting his glass.] Though I betrayed my own Empire, as well. I commend you. Cheers.

Depends on who you talk to. [Her eyebrows raise a little higher as she lifts her glass and gently taps it against his.] Cheers. [Sip.] Sounds like I'm not the only one with an interesting past.

[He lightly taps his glass against hers before taking a much more generous drink of his wine. Well, if ever there was a proper time to discuss these things...]

I've a colorful history of my own, yes. It seems that the worlds are rife with oppressive Empires, does it not? Ours was rather obsessed with the acquisition and study of nethicite -- tied to our own Espers, in its way, though none had to die for the cause. No Espers, at the very least. My father was head scientist at the Draklor Laboratory in Archades. He became even more obsessed with the damned nethicite than the Emperor himself. [He glances downwards at his glass, briefly, keeping his expression composed.]

I daresay he forgot about most everything else.

[She doesn't push him for an answer. If he wants to talk, she'll let him. For whatever reason, he's already gotten more out of her than she normally would have given to anyone else. Not many people know this much about her.

At the part about his father, she reaches over - hesitantly, for this isn't something she normally does - and places one of her hands over his free one, the one not holding his wine glass.]

That can happen. [ pause. ] I... never really knew my parents. Cid raised me, but... [She purses her lips. It's still hard to talk about him, even two years later.]

[He glances upwards at the touch, startled. He did not expect her to be so forthcoming, and offers a thin but genuine smile in appreciation. Another Cid? The list of things they had in common was beginning to grow by leaps and bounds.]

You speak of him fondly. He was a kind man?

[Normally, she isn't. It surprises her that she's doing the comforting this time. Terra and Locke... Gaia, even... have had a greater effect on her than she thought.]

He raised me as his own. He was good to me and I loved him. [Her use of past tense could mean any number of things.]

[He inclines his head very slightly, considering the possible meaning of her words. It's possible that she only means he did not follow to Gaia, but from her tone and the very slight shift in her eyes, he presumes this is not the case. He lightly brushes his thumb against hers, his hand still beneath hers on the table.]

He's gone, then. I'm very sorry.

My own fault. [Her voice changes, turning harsh again. A moment later, she pulls back again, moving to grip her wine glass with both hands now. That's one subject she hates talking about. The guilt she feels... she doesn't want to think about it.]

I'm surprised Kefka didn't kill him. Maybe he just missed his aim when he blew the world apart.

[He retracts his own hand, watching her shift in expression with interest. He knows that very feeling all too well. Overwhelming guilt, even if the circumstances demanded certain actions. Even if it couldn't be helped. If it was done by your hand, directly or indirectly, you lived with that pain forever.]

I know how you feel, to some degree. My apologies for touching on a sore subject. ... it's not an easy thing to live with.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject