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Post by tidus on Apr 14, 2007 17:56:45 GMT -5
Upon entering Bevelle via Highbridge, a traveler might immediately notice the lavish carpet set in front of them; a long, crimson affair with beautiful yellow designs symbolizing Yevon and its teachings. Priests and nuns roam the streets in traditional Yevonite outfit, with robes in purple and green flowing gracefully in the wind, as if Yevon Himself blesses them. Rivers rush alongside Highbridge, leading into the Via Purifico, that legendary labyrinthine sewer that so many souls have found themselves lost in.
At the far end of Highbridge is the entrance to the main streets of Bevelle, which lead to the Holy Bevelle Temple. Warrior monks in steel armor and green tunics guard the main entrance of Bevelle, armed with rifles and a plethora of close-range combat skills.
It is clear that whoever designed Bevelle had Yevon in mind, and with Him all the elegant facades that are beautiful enough to convert even the most simple-minded heathen.
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Post by seymour on Apr 23, 2007 20:23:32 GMT -5
((SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG GOD I SUCK))
The cages hanging in front of the Maester weren't so fitting for one of such resplendent beauty as Aerith. He mourned the need for such restraints, but who knew what sort of wretched trouble the girl would be able to cause without them? Although Seymour would surely be able to fight the girl with relative ease, he also wanted a chance to talk to her first. He'd exhibited some rather uncontrolled emotions earlier, and he had to admit...
"I'm terribly sorry for my grotesque demonstration of rash emotion earlier today," Seymour apologized to his lovely little caged princess. "You must be wondering why I've been doing this. Maybe it seems a bit odd to someone like you - someone who speaks to the Planet," he continued with his usual false smirk. Under his breath, he muttered, "Possibly the most biased source known to man."
Turning to face her now, the Half-Guado explained further. "You see, since I was young, I knew it must be my destiny to put humanity at peace. I suppose, being the son of two opposing races - Human and Guado - that I was indeed Spira's hope for the future. It is my duty as Spira's Maester to bring peace to this ravished world."
The man extended his hand to the beautiful White Mage in front of him. "To bring this peace, I need you. Oh Aerith, won't you please lend me your talents - and your hand?" Smiling with eyes that appeared to only hold innocence beneath them, the Maester who was slowly sinking into insanity now begged. "Please, Lady Aerith - be my companion. Help me save this ruined world!"
If bullshit were a profession, Seymour would be the authority on it.
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Post by Aerith Gainsborough on Apr 26, 2007 0:13:09 GMT -5
Aerith felt like a canary in that cage. Her gilded costume couldn't withstand the long hike from the opera house, and so now she sat barefoot with the delicate but torn cape wrapped around her body. Her face was buried in her arms, knees pulled close and hair a loose veil over the cape. That song she'd been hearing since they'd reached the little knot of trees slowly got louder until it was practically all she could hear, both with her mind and her ears. Well, for a while it was nice to lose herself in the hypnotic pace of the chocobo they'd ridden since meeting up with those monks. The song. She couldn't understand the language, but it was soothing all the same. It made her wish that home would sing like this.
But musings like this wouldn't protect her. Really, she was used to this: getting kidnapped and thrown in cages. In fact, this was much more pleasant. No one was sticking unnamable needles in her arms, nor were they trying to breed her to a very nice... whatever Red is.
"Not a day ago, you were talking about destroying the world. Now you want to save it?" she said into her knees. "I don't understand you."
This warped world will have its peace - even if that peace can only be found in pieces.
She suddenly sat up. It made sense. She brought Holy out of its slot in her bangle and held it in the palm of her hand. It felt like cold lead there, much heavier than it looked -- a weight usually set firmly on her shoulders. "Destroy it to save it," she murmured. "It's the hardest thing I ever had to do, to choose between the Planet and the people. I'm still not sure which is right." The cold milky-white crystal glittered in the dungeon's dim light. She turned her attention to the Maester for the first time since arriving. "Tell me about the Guado. Please."
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Post by seymour on Apr 28, 2007 8:23:29 GMT -5
With a smirk, the Maester looked up into the cage. What could this girl possibly be after?
"The Guado," he began, not sure if he should trust her with all the information. "Are my people. Inhabiting trees and areas with forestry, they live to protect the Farplane, the dwelling place of the spirits of the dead. They are thus keen to the Farplane's scent, able to smell a dead person from miles away. Peace is their way."
He decided that maybe telling her more than this - like that he was only half-Guado, and that his father was the man who'd brought Yevon to his people - would be unwise, and left it at that for now.
"But what good does this information do you?" Seymour questioned, a look of suspicion etched across his features. "If I know you at all, Lady Aerith, you're already planning a way out of this mess. How would knowledge of the Guado help you with this?" Beckoning a guard over, Seymour whispered something into his ear before gesturing him off to complete whatever task it was that he was meant to do.
"Relax, Lady Aerith," the Maester said soothingly. "You are going to be here, by my side, for a very long time if you don't agree to cooperate."
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Post by Aerith Gainsborough on Apr 28, 2007 15:58:52 GMT -5
Aerith huffed. "It would've been easier to have told me all this to begin with, you know. I'm more likely to fight you when I'm dragged from my friends. But since I have no choice in the matter, I'm more than willing to hear your side of the story. I'm certainly not going anywhere any time soon." She rapped the bars with her knuckles. The iron rang like a death bell in the otherwise quiet room.
"My mother was a Cetra. They-- I mean we are the caretakers of the Planet. She told me about how, 2000 years ago, the Crisis from the Skies wounded our Planet up at the Knowlespole. We tried to heal it, but failed. The Planet told us to leave, but before we could abandon that world, the Crisis disguised itself as one of us and infected our people, transforming them into mindless beasts." Her eyes became distant, seeing this far off past the way she did when Ifalna told her as a child. "We were dieing out, desperate and suspicious. That's when the Planet created the Weapons. They were never used, since the few remaining Cetra sealed the Crisis away. The Weapons are still around, hidden, and ready to destroy anything that threatens the Planet. Even humanity.
"It's the same with this." She held up the milky white bauble. "Before this happened," she indicated everything in the room, including herself and Seymour, "I was praying for the ability to protect the Planet from Meteor. There was a chance that Holy would destroy us all, but I had to protect the Planet.
"It was the hardest decision I ever made." She replaced the White Materia in her bangle and withdrew her arms into the chiffon cloak in an effort to keep warm. She shivered, thoughtful, for a while and watched Seymour with a new understanding. "It seems like we've got more in common than I thought, Maester."
(("Knowlespole" is actually a mistransliteration of "North Pole". Now put Jenova in a Santa hat, and we're set.))
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Post by seymour on May 9, 2007 22:40:18 GMT -5
Clearly, he had not seen all this traumatic past within Aerith. With a chuckle, he mentioned, "You are the last of your race of Cetra? The only one left, then? Strange...I am the last of the half-Guado. We are more alike than we'd thought at first, Aerith."
Seymour smiled up at Aerith. For a moment, it seemed to be incredibly genuine; his expression seemed sincere.
"Will you join with me, then," Seymour whispered to Aerith - a whisper that betrayed a bit of his vile nature, but not much - as he extended his hand between the bars. "And help me to purge this world of pain, as your did before?"
Maybe not quite as she did before...but what did it matter? Pain was pain, and if it could be solved in death while people could go on "living," what was the problem?
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Post by Aerith Gainsborough on May 17, 2007 23:15:47 GMT -5
((god, this is hard. I know what I want to do for the plot, but I'm not sure if Aerith would do it... tough decisions time))
Aerith watched Seymour's hand for what felt like eternity. Once again, she was forced to make a decision: turn her back on the Planet or humanity. Before waking in this strange world, she'd been sure of her decision, but she'd convinced herself that humanity had a better chance with the Planet's mercy, however slim that might be. She felt a kinship with this Maester, this man who burned entire audiences with the most powerful Black Magic she'd ever seen. This man who was on a mad quest to save the world from pain. Is that not noble? She herself had been prepared to sacrifice the world. How many people had she killed along their journey? Strangely, it didn't effect her like she thought it would. Life was precious, but she also knew how transient it was.
"My mother told me that story when we were locked in Hojo's labs. He treated us like animals, but it was my mother who suffered the most. I was only seven, but I remember when she died, she looked so happy to finally return to the Planet."
Hojo. She remembered that man, the one who never called her by name. Always "the Ancient" or "the Cetra" and sometimes without any title at all. Sometimes she was just "it".
Aerith took Seymour's hand. "Show me your world's pain and I'll join you."
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Post by seymour on May 24, 2007 12:48:02 GMT -5
Seymour smiled at the girl. She was still being difficult, but not so much as before - he was slowly making progress. This was not ideal, but not unwelcome.
Opening her cage, the Maester let the girl out, leading her by the hand across Bevelle's streets. As they passed priests, nuns, and warrior monks, Seymour looked behind himself to Aerith, smiling all the while. "You see, Aerith, we humans have spent a long time in existence." He paused to bow his head to a priest that was bowing himself in respect, and continued walking down Highbridge. "Yet, what have we really accomplished as a race?"
Stopping at the midpoint of the long, velvety carpet, the Half-Guado turned to Aerith, all the pains of humanity's guilt in his face. A young nun ran up to him, pulling on his robe playfully. "Maester Seymour, when will Sin be defeated again? When comes the next Calm?"
Turning to the girl, Seymour merely smiled a sad smile, shook his head, and patted her on the shoulder, prompting the nun girl to run away, downtrodden. "What have we done? What will be the mark we leave on the world? What is our legacy?"
Sighing, Seymour turned to the waters that passed from the Via Purifico. "Is it technology? Is it so many inventions that only serve to devour nature in return for some luxury? Is it conquest? Is it war amongst ourselves for petty things; money, power, superiority? Is it piety? Is it the audacity to state that our ways are more profound than those of anyone else?" With another sad smile, Seymour turned back to the other side of Highbridge, the side leading into the rest of the world, filled with greed, hunger, and hatred.
"Join me, Aerith," he said in a tone that nearly begged. "Together, we can purge this world of all Sin - not the Sin found in a giant orb of destruction. The Sin found in the human heart. The Sin that humans eat away at each other with. Let us put them out of their misery."
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Post by Aerith Gainsborough on Jun 8, 2007 2:08:05 GMT -5
((Sorry it took so long. I'm back and with inspiration I found in the shower this morning))
Aerith watched the waters from the Via for a while, silent and contemplative. It was beautiful, the way the sunlight hit the water. She allowed her eyes to unfocus until she was no longer looking at water but at the universe -- a chanel of liquid diamonds -- and listened. All around were the sounds of productivity. Men and women moving around with a unified purpose. And deep beneath the sounds of the city and of the water, she could hear singing. It was a sad but strong hymn. It made her feel calm. She couldn't understand the words, but the meaning was obvious. She let it wash over her like a current to sweep her away. She didn't realize she was humming along until she opened her mouth to speak.
"I understand what you're trying to do, but I remain unconvinced, Maester. All life is suffering, from the moment we're born to when we return to the Planet. It takes pain to concieve, be born, and to die; naturally, life itself is to suffer. But it's that very fire that can take a person and forge them into something wonderful. We don't live only for ourselves, nor even for the people we know. Without our growth, how would the Planet grow?"
She turned to the Maester and gestured to the great city. "You tried to convince me to turn my back on humanity, but instead you've only proven that this 'Sin' you so revere is the very thing that tempers the soul and creates something beautiful. Every person here has a purpose, a direction. Even you, Seymour. Can you not say that your dream is not beautiful? Would you not endure great suffering to achieve that goal?" Her emerald eyes were leveled with his own -- topaz the color of a winter sky. There was only one other time that Aerith ever saw eyes that cold. "But if your suffering is too much, dear Maester..."
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Post by seymour on Jul 11, 2007 11:38:44 GMT -5
((I just realized that I posted in here as Tidus. Oopsie!))
Turning to look at her once more, Seymour's eyes reflected a mix of rage and pain. "Are you saying that to live each day in fear - to live each day knowing that there are people who die for safety..." Looking at the water running along the bridge, Seymour tried hard to continue. "Are you saying that that terror is beautiful? Are you saying that that is purpose, that that is direction?
"Because if you are," Seymour looked back to her once more, with malice in his eyes now. "Then you are not the woman I thought you were."
Taking a few steps closer to her, he gestured to the city. "Sin cannot be defeated, because Sin is in all hearts. I wish to save these people from their tormented existence - to put them to eternal rest." Moving next to Aerith, he took her hand, both facing the city. The people's eyes seemed to want and try to smile, but beneath them was a subtle but painful fear, it seemed. "They live in fear - fear of that which they can never defeat or survive. Their lives are truly torturing."
Bending slightly to speak in Aerith's ear, he whispered, "Are you saying that this fear is beautiful?"
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Post by Aerith Gainsborough on Jul 20, 2007 1:42:32 GMT -5
((stress stress stress))
"You mistake me, Maester." Aerith waved gently to some curious onlookers as they moved about the city. "Mindless terror, the thing that brings humankind to its knees, is not beautiful. But the fear, the trepidation that builds heroes from men, that is beautiful. Have you not seen it?" She watched the people, silently praying for Cloud and the others. "I have. He was broken by the weight of betrayal, shattered dreams, and the lives of everyone he'd ever known. He could've bowed beneath this agony, but he turned his fear into strength and purpose." But what now? Cloud's story was unfinished. Would he find his vengence? Aerith didn't know, and it was that doubt that played across her face.
A frown creased her forehead. She needed to hear it from the people, not from this man's forked tounge. The rail was broad and her feet were bare. She climbed up onto that white rail and felt a wind catch her tattered cape and her once tightly braided hair. "People of Bevelle!" she called into the throng. Her clarion voice chimed through the street; the crowd turned to face the white-clad woman. "What would you give to rid yourselves of this eternal fear? Would you send your sons and daughters to fight?" She thought of her mother's story, and how she imagined the Cetra charging the Crisis from the Skies. "Would you pray to your Planet to send a savior to protect you?" An image of Cetra priestesses circled around a glowing fountain praying even as the Weapons opened their eyes. "Or when this all failed, would you lay down your lives for the chance to seal this evil away for all eternity?" The final battle... how many Cetra sacrificed themselves to bind the Crisis? "People of Bevelle, speak! Would you, yourselves die to destroy pain? Would you surrender your own spirit to end suffering? If you could rid yourselves of Sin, would you sacrifice your own lives to do so?"
It was a great risk, speaking to the crowd like that. If things went poorly, Aerith was prepared to cast a barrier and escape. But she had to hear those words from the people, not their Maester. After all, ShinRa never admitted to what the people cried out.
((grrr... Seymour, you can be the crowd.))
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Post by Xenos on Aug 10, 2007 17:00:34 GMT -5
Xenos's new robes shuffled on the ground as he approached. He smiled, hearing the sorceress's words. He had never expected it to be the Cetra girl. She seemed so sure of herself now, her charisma had grown epically since he had last seen her. Though dirtied and barefoot, even next to the ornate priest she was beautiful-- like a ruffled falcon, deadly to the claws with unseen ability. Her chest heaved as she breathed, pale and dignified.
Xenos removed his mask and hung it off his obi then stepped through the crowd. "A saviour is only what the people make of them," he called. "Everyone has the power in themselves to rise up and battle this Sin, but who of you are willing to go through the pain to get there?" He gestured towards the priest. "Isn't this the man to protect us? Isn't Yevon the one who will protect us? Praise be to Yevon!" Xenos cried to the crowd. "The Summoner will save us. Defeat Sin and bring the new Calm." An idea struck him and Xenos turned to the Priest. "Is this the Summoner to save us? They say she can talk to the Fayth without prayer. Praise be to Yevon," he said and did the formal bow he had seen so many of the people repeat and whispered to Aerith, "Please.... I'll explain later...."
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Post by Alexander THE GIRL on Aug 10, 2007 23:05:00 GMT -5
((OMG Unexpected plot twist'd!))
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Post by Aerith Gainsborough on Aug 25, 2007 11:12:28 GMT -5
((cosplay contest in one week... crunch time. Also first week of school))
Aerith wasn't sure if the man was addressing the crowd or her. His words were an extension of her own speech, but for a while she couldn't spot him. Then, there he was, brilliant in white and violet robes, his auburn hair gleaming in the bright sunlight. He bowed low in that peculiar prayer and it was then that she recognized the white porcelain mask hanging from his obi. She felt a chill as her stomach clenched into a knot.
Xenos.
He looked up slighty from his bow, and Aerith could see his face. This was the face of the person who'd terrorized them halfway around the world. He and that evil monster of his had torn Setzer's airship apart. He killed Squall. She wanted to look into this murderer's face and ask him why. Why all the killing? Why so much hatred? And above all, why their worlds touched.
The auburn hair not held back in his topknot slipped forward from his face. Blackness stretched across his face, held back only by the sunlight full on his brow. His eye obscured in shadow gleamed like an ember in a dead fire - brilliant orange iris set in whites turned black. His other eye, storm grey, reminded her of Squall's, especially looking as though willing her to understand. "Please.... I'll explain later...."
Aerith was taken aback. This was Xenos? The mask dangling from his waist confirmed that, but this charismatic young man was completely different from what she expected. What had she expected, anyway? To be honest, she'd never really thought about him beyond his villainy. She never once considered the man behind the mask. Her hatred now battled with pity and sympathy, but mostly curiosity. Is this the charm that set Junon against them? Is she now being charmed in the same manner? There were so many questions, all crammed into her head in the space of a breath.
Aerith hesitated for a moment, then spoke once again, this time quietly. "I thank you, people of Bevelle. I have reached my decision." She turned to Seymour. "I will go with you, provided that I choose this man to attend me." She gestured to Xenos. "I would like to have a swordsman to be our bodyguard."
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Post by seymour on Aug 25, 2007 23:05:11 GMT -5
Seymour glared suspiciously at the newcomer, the wrath of the Aeons briefly flickering in his eyes, before looking at Aerith sternly. Suddenly, and with an air of slight envy that this man had so easily convinced her where he'd failed, Seymou warned the girl, "You should be careful who you trust, dear Summoner. After all, Lady Aerith, your life is now the most precious in Spira - only your life can spare the lives of thousands.
"Would you really trust it to a man you do not know...?" he trailed off, considering the man kneeling before them. The air of mystery that the man carried himself with only served to further frustrate the Maester. What was it with these mercenaries that felt they could slither around the Earth, owing allegiance only to the highest bidder? It reminded him too much of Sir Auron, that brash warrior who'd smelled of death the last time he spoke to him. This man, too, had the smell of blood, though it wasn't quite the same as the Farplane - it was almost as if he'd spent his life sending souls to the Farplane...
He would not let Aerith's full trust go to a stranger, though. He'd been too devoted to earning that trust to let it slip out of his hands now.
"After all, Lady Aerith," he advised calmly, as if only out of concern for the Summoner. "Not only is he readily armed, but you have only just met him. What bodyguard would feel the need to hide his face behind a mask? Only a bodyguard who also has motives to hide." Taking a step back and stretching his arms open, the Maester demonstrated himself. "If it is a guardian you need, you may rely on me - I have been trained in all manners of White and Black Magic, as well as some Summoning arts.
"However," he stopped himself briefly for a low bow, almost patronizingly low. "The decision remains yours, Lady Summoner."
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