Guy Cecil ☼ [Gᴀɪʟᴀʀᴅɪᴀ•Gᴀʟᴀɴ•Gᴀʀᴅɪᴏs] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
relinquishing) wrote2013-11-11 04:27 am
relinquishing) wrote2013-11-11 04:27 am
Entry tags:
[Written / ANON] - 001 ☼
[To wake up in the middle of the night wasn't the issue at all. His sleep hadn't been restful at all, considering what their travelling party was getting ready to do once the sun had risen. Even after all this time, having to fight Van was a tricky thing to try and think about.
But when he opens his eyes to the sounds of woods, the crackle of leaves and branches and rushing of water, he instantly knows something is wrong. The air against the bare skin of his chest is confusing enough, but it's the ache against his shoulders that makes this seem... familiar.
Too familiar.
Memories of months that he didn't even know existed were flowing back, all muddled and cloudy and hard to make out without giving himself a headache. He knew... he knew he had been here before. He knew this was Luceti. He knew he wasn't the first Guy Cecil to have been here.
And he knew Luke had been here as well. A flash of swords, of red hair, of split blood...
Luke lying in the grass, engulfed in a golden light, a dark-haired girl weeping at his side.
Guy jolts up, nearly tripping over the pile that contained his clothes. Without a light source, the only resort he is left to is fumbling around for what's on the ground, doing his best to change from his garments and look for the one item that he needed the most: his journal.
It's as he's groping for his other boot that he finds it, and he quickly pulls his footwear on before wandering to find an adequate light source. He had to send a message.]
PRIVATE - LOCKED TO Luke fon Fabre (!FAILED!)
Luke. It's Guy. If you're awake, I need to talk to you.
[...Wait.
Failed?
Guy can feel his heart pound in his neck. Next best thing - the girl that was, more or less, attached to Luke at the hip.]
PRIVATE - LOCKED TO Xion (!FAILED!)
Xion, it's Guy - Guy Cecil. Hey, I know it's late, but I need to know where you and Luke are.
[...
Failed.
He slams the book shut, jaw tight with fingers pressed firmly to the bridge of his nose. It was too late and his memories are too much of a mess. Had they still been here? He could have sworn... But the idea of Luke having never come back fro that previous memory is enough to make him sick. There was already plenty of suspicion for the Luke he remembered back home. For this one, who he'd watched vanish into thin air---
Screw that. Forget about asking around. Something had happened while he was gone. Perhaps too much. So he presses forward through the muddy ground, trying to find the river he knows he hears, all the while prepping his journal for another set of writing.
He'll just... start with the basics. There wasn't any need to lose his cool just yet.
Right.
...]
[Even with the sun already set, this author doesn't intend to be seen at all. The camera is intentionally covered as the text slowly appears on the journal's page.
First comes a foreign script, written hastily in a language that the writer knows only a handful of people will be able to understand. Whether they respond is a different matter.]
[Underneath it, another message, this time in the more common tongue. Might as well play dumb until he knows exactly what's going here. His mind is a little too muddled to try anything else, anyway.]
I guess we'll start with some basic questions -
Is anyone else here?
What year is it?
What direction is civilization from the river?
And what should someone be expecting to see in the woods this late at night? Can't really say I'm in the mood to get pounced on.
((ooc: For Abyss Cast's convenience: Anyone from Auldrant: Age, rank, background, really just your name will do. Respond if you can.))
But when he opens his eyes to the sounds of woods, the crackle of leaves and branches and rushing of water, he instantly knows something is wrong. The air against the bare skin of his chest is confusing enough, but it's the ache against his shoulders that makes this seem... familiar.
Too familiar.
Memories of months that he didn't even know existed were flowing back, all muddled and cloudy and hard to make out without giving himself a headache. He knew... he knew he had been here before. He knew this was Luceti. He knew he wasn't the first Guy Cecil to have been here.
And he knew Luke had been here as well. A flash of swords, of red hair, of split blood...
Luke lying in the grass, engulfed in a golden light, a dark-haired girl weeping at his side.
Guy jolts up, nearly tripping over the pile that contained his clothes. Without a light source, the only resort he is left to is fumbling around for what's on the ground, doing his best to change from his garments and look for the one item that he needed the most: his journal.
It's as he's groping for his other boot that he finds it, and he quickly pulls his footwear on before wandering to find an adequate light source. He had to send a message.]
PRIVATE - LOCKED TO Luke fon Fabre (!FAILED!)
Luke. It's Guy. If you're awake, I need to talk to you.
[...Wait.
Failed?
Guy can feel his heart pound in his neck. Next best thing - the girl that was, more or less, attached to Luke at the hip.]
PRIVATE - LOCKED TO Xion (!FAILED!)
Xion, it's Guy - Guy Cecil. Hey, I know it's late, but I need to know where you and Luke are.
[...
Failed.
He slams the book shut, jaw tight with fingers pressed firmly to the bridge of his nose. It was too late and his memories are too much of a mess. Had they still been here? He could have sworn... But the idea of Luke having never come back fro that previous memory is enough to make him sick. There was already plenty of suspicion for the Luke he remembered back home. For this one, who he'd watched vanish into thin air---
Screw that. Forget about asking around. Something had happened while he was gone. Perhaps too much. So he presses forward through the muddy ground, trying to find the river he knows he hears, all the while prepping his journal for another set of writing.
He'll just... start with the basics. There wasn't any need to lose his cool just yet.
Right.
...]
[Even with the sun already set, this author doesn't intend to be seen at all. The camera is intentionally covered as the text slowly appears on the journal's page.
First comes a foreign script, written hastily in a language that the writer knows only a handful of people will be able to understand. Whether they respond is a different matter.]
[Underneath it, another message, this time in the more common tongue. Might as well play dumb until he knows exactly what's going here. His mind is a little too muddled to try anything else, anyway.]
I guess we'll start with some basic questions -
Is anyone else here?
What year is it?
What direction is civilization from the river?
And what should someone be expecting to see in the woods this late at night? Can't really say I'm in the mood to get pounced on.
((ooc: For Abyss Cast's convenience: Anyone from Auldrant: Age, rank, background, really just your name will do. Respond if you can.))
[written/private]
...huh.
And now Guy isn't the only one wondering, quietly and curiously, from which time the other is from. Because this isn't the same mentality that Guy'd had last time, but it isn't quite like the Guy he remembered from before, either. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps?
And now Asch can't help but wonder- before, or after he died in Auldrant? Because death can bring all sorts of thoughts and... perhaps not regrets, but a wondering of how things could have been. And here, in this place, such mysterious could be sorted out.
Ha... maybe he should just go ahead and say it. Wouldn't that be a surprise? One way to find out his
canon pointtime frame. And if his death even matters....Probably not a good idea. Guy's good at keeping secrets, but even that isn't enough to make Asch want to share. Certainly not on a public journal system, locked conversation or not. Still, it calmed him down somewhat, startled him out of his anger momentarily.]
I'm not so sure I'm interested in dredging up old memories just so you can feel better about it.
[written/private]
[Plain and simple. Although Guy is doubting how "sure" Asch really is. If he was that uncomfortable wandering down memory lane in the first place, he could have left quite a while ago.]
This isn't about me feeling better, anyway.
[written/private]
[If this were spoken aloud, Guy probably could have caught his dubious tone; as it is, he'll just have to guess. Asch isn't particularly subtle about how much he believes that statement, anyway.]
[written/private] 1/2
[If it was just about him, Guy knows this conversation wouldn't be happening. There not exactly a good way of putting that on the table without sending Asch off to sulk, though.]
Look, this isn't--
[...]
[audio/private]
This isn't the right place to talk about this.
...
Believe what you want, Asch. But you're not doing yourself any favors when you only assume things.
[audio/private]
...no. Okay, no. He's bitter, and he's still a little angry, but this is disturbingly open for the Guy who seemed pretty okay with almost cutting him in half a year or so ago. It's worth checking out, if only to see how different things are in person.
If they really are at all.]
...Fine. Where?
[audio/private]
[Maybe he'd give a little if it wasn't so late. Or if he wasn't out in the middle of the forest. Or if he had most of his memories. But hopefully he could buy himself a little time.]
Sleep on it, alright? Think it over. I'm not exactly in town right now, and... well, hopefully it's not going to surprise you now.
Whenever you're done, just let me know your decision. If you want to keep being skeptical? I won't stop you.
[audio/private]
I already told you I'll hear you out. Why the hell should I have to come to you?
[audio/private] i shouldn't be smiling whenever he gets pissed
[He sighs roughly. Who had just said to not go assuming things? Aaaand look where defensiveness has led us yet again due to not listening.]
All I asked was for you to think on it first.
If you really are set on something different, we can meet sooner. Tonight, if you wanted. I can show up while we're both angry and defensive, and we can leave with no suspicions cleared and with nothing of value solved. But if that sounds like a good plan to you, then just say the word.
[...
Another sigh, this one a little more... weary. He really doesn't want to talk about this right now.]
Or you can actually take this space and use it for something.
It's your choice.
[audio/private] why not I usually do
And Asch? He's never been great at that, at least not in the last ten years or so. He's an adult now, sure, but he didn't do that much growing during the seven years in Daath, so he's still catching up on what it means to nurture a little thing called "emotional maturity". He sure as hell doesn't have it in steady supply.
...But fine, alright, when Guy phrases it that, it makes a lot of sense. And while he's not a big fan of conceding to arguments of logic (because this isn't about logic either, dammit) he'd rather not put himself through an argument with Guy that fails to actually accomplish anything. This is... a slightly better option.
Slightly.
Still, there is some niggling doubts.]
How do I know you won't change your mind about it overnight?
[How committed is he to doing this?]
[audio/private] okay good
[Not that he's surprised. Guy's never really returned the favor that much, after all. But the odd balancing of suspicions is particularly annoying. It's like trying to dance with a brick wall - clumsy and awkward with hardly any progress, unless one was patient enough to make a blunt effort towards forward motion.
Mmm. Alright. Blunt would have to work.]
...
I won't.
Take that however you want.
[audio/private]
But he still... dammit. Dammit.
He still can't say no. Not to Guy.
How pathetic.]
Fine, I'll sleep on it. Then we'll see.
[He doesn't have high hopes, though. Not that he ever does.]
[audio/private]
But it also isn't a no.]
Thanks, Asch. Don't let me keep you up.
[His relief isn't exactly a secret. He'll probably just blame it on the strange circumstances later. Still, a bullet dodged, even temporarily, is a wondrous thing.]
[audio/private]
[He recognizes that for what it is- a subtle and polite dismissal, classic Guy Cecil. Which isn't even his real name.
He considers saying something else - a sarcastic snap back, a dismissal of his own, an angry word... even, fleetingly, something more peaceful. His own version of a welcome. But he doesn't know how any of those might come across to Guy, and he doesn't like not knowing. He doesn't like waiting for this conversation, either, but that isn't his call right now.
In the end, indecisive and frustrated, he just slams the journal shut. Better this way, hopefully. But all Guy's given him is something to dread and an excuse to evade whatever he's after, here.]