timeandtides_backup | Protecting My Devotion

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Protecting My Devotion - Group 15

Characters: Balthier Bunansa, Setzer Gabbiani, and Rygdea.
Progress: Ongoing
Summary: Old!Memoria
Location: Memoria
Date: March 11th, 1805.
Warning: ... too many well-dressed men?

He didn't know what to expect when the sky had suddenly burst with the color of sunset. Since his arrival in Gaia, it was safe to assume that anything could happen at any time. People were taken home whenever the fates saw fit, with no warning, no impetus. When the haze cleared and he found himself standing in front of the elevator at the Draklor Laboratory, he surmised that it was simply his turn to return from whence he came.

Though given the option, he wouldn't have chosen Draklor. Too many memories there. Ones he would rather leave behind if he was going to have any semblance of a life that didn't leave him shackled to the past.

In the distance, an alarm was droning, though it was muffled, as if it were several floors below him.

Just what had he returned in the middle of?

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"See?" Rygdea nodded in the direction of the silver-haired man, largely unsurprised. "That's what happened with you. Same sort of thing." As the world started to fade, he turned his attention back to Setzer and cocked his head. "You doin' alright?"

"I see," Balthier mused aloud, thinking back to the scene he had relived just moments before and considering what it must have looked like to Rygdea and Setzer, if it were indeed the same as what Setzer was experiencing at this very moment. He made no comment while Setzer seemed to speak to no one, to look at people who simply were not there -- and occasionally, he thought he saw a glimpse of what looked like... a harlequin?

No. Trick of the light.

"Is it over?" Balthier questioned, folding his arms over his chest. "You looked distressed."

Well. He wasn't pleased, that much was certain, and he was rather glad that the hand that had reached for his cards was still buried in his pocket, so no one could see the way it was almost refusing to let go of them just yet. But he wasn't actually harmed any. Irritated with the place for even bothering to call things up, yes. But not (physically) harmed.

"I'd rather we left the madmen behind," he answered. "But I doubt the fates are done with us just yet."

"Guessin' it's my turn, next," Rygdea surmised with a slight, dry grin. He wasn't looking forward to it, it wasn't going to be fun judging by the other two's experiences thus far, but on the other hand... "Well, there's no lunatics in my closet, at least, not that I know of, so I think we're done with nutbags."

"Assuming this is, indeed, done in turns," Balthier mused aloud. It certainly seemed to be thus far, but there was no way to be certain unless something from Rygdea's past indeed turned up next. "That's fortunate, at least. Nothing horribly scarring in your past, I hope? So far, this place seems to choose the most unpleasant memories for us to relive."

"I see little reason why it wouldn't be," Setzer answered. True, there wasn't any certainty to the hand but Setzer was used to seeing patterns. If two had gone through a replay of their worst memories then it stood to good reason that the third would also do so.

"Unless you have more luck than either of us can manage, of course."

"No, I..." He trailed off, noticing the now-familiar shift of his surroundings, curious to see what this bizarre turn of events had in store for him. After a few moments, the scenery morphed completely, and he found himself...on the Lindblum. Anticlimatic, but he wasn't complaining.

He was sat down - hadn't he been stood a moment ago? - Fang opposite him, both of them nursing glasses of bourbon as the small hours ticked by.
"So, I've told you my life story," she drawled in that lilting Oerban accent of hers. "Turnabout's fair play. What are you doin' here?"
He turned the glass in his hands, smiling slightly. "This place...it's all messed up. The Fal'Cie, Dysley, all of 'em, they run Coccoon with an iron fist, and anyone who doesn't agree...well, let's just say that a lot of people were on that Purge train who shouldn't have been."
"No-one should have been." A frown furrowed her brow, and he nodded, conceding the point. Then he took a swig. "My point is..there's this whole scent of rot, underneath the shine and sophistication. Cid..wants to change that."
She said nothing, just gave him a look that said 'go on', and he shrugged. "He wants to give Coccoon back to the people. No more Purges, no more Fal'Cie breathin' down our necks." He knew there was pride in his voice as he talked, and he didn't bother to hide it. He was proud, proud to be working for such a great goal.
"So, you're fightin' for 'the people'?" The corner of her lip quirked up subtly. "Doesn't that sound a little trite to you?"
He snorted. "You make me sound like I'm tryin' to make myself out as some storybook hero."
"Aren't you?"
"No," he waved a hand at the thought. "I just...wanna be part of somethin' bigger than me. Somethin' that'll last after I've gone. I don't wanna be thought of a s a hero, just..thought of."
"An' the fact that Cid Raines is at the helm of this little world-changin' ship means nothing at all to you?" Her eyes glittered knowingly.
"Aw, shut up," he laughed, and she did. Then she faded, like a watercolour painting in reverse, the blue of her sari and the green of her eyes lingering for a moment. He stood up, forgetting the bourbon that he was holding, the glass fading out before it hit the ground, and raked a hand through his hair. "Shoulda figured as much," he muttered. "Well...guess that's over an' done with.."

"That makes three," Balthier mused aloud, though his voice had become a low murmur. Arms folded, he lightly tapped against his chin with his index finger before turning his head towards the nearest corridor. "Best to keep moving. No telling what this place has in store for us, but if we stand still, we're sure to get nowhere quickly."

He began walk, though he disliked having to do so without a strong heading. Well, they would have to make due with what they had. They could always turn around and go the other way if need be, he supposed.

Over and done with with surprisingly little fuss, even, not that Setzer was about to complain about that. The less bother there was in the whole mess, the sooner they could deal into what would hopefully be a better hand overall. He'd had quite enough of stepping into the past.

"Nothing for it but to fly as the winds leads then," he answered with a shrug. Anywhere was better than here, after all.

"This is really kinda weird," Rygdea murmured, mostly to himself. "I mean... Didn't it seem a bit...pointless?"

Not that he was exactly complaining, not all of his memories were as painless as that one, and it hadn't looked like a walk in the park for his companions, it was just...strange.

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Protecting My Devotion - Group 15

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