riotseas

[riotseas]

Cid watches Clive's feet part, his knees bend and shoulders squared, as he gets into stance with a sword in his hand. It's firm, nothing that shows novice—you'd think he were born with a weapon at his side. Alas, he is ever the initiator, and he knows he makes him stumble with his words.

He won't use that against him now though, he's looking for a fair fight here and they won't get that if both of them are distracted with flirtations. Maybe it'd make for a good game later on down the line, but Cid's on borrowed time.

As he follows the tip of Clive's blade with his eyes, Cid pulls his own from his hip, unclasping the second one and chucking it over the fence. It's not often he uses both at the same time—only in grave situations—and though he isn't underestimating the boy's skill, fighting two against one leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Once the belt is gone, he moves his legs freely about and settles into a lazy posture, light on his feet. He barks a laugh at Clive's bite, but doesn't double down.

❝ Thought I'd be polite, is the Lordling insisting? ❞

He doesn't give Clive a chance to answer before he's pushing forwards, sweeping his sword across his chest, sending it ringing against the steel of Clive's own. The force ripples throughout his hand and up his arm, the hunger for a good battle strong within him.

Cid side-steps and twists on his foot to land a blow at Clive's left hip, but narrowly misses which forces him to jump back and reassess. It doesn't take long for him to thrust another time, blade slick through the clean air of Rosaria's yards.

Each time he thinks he's got the one-up on Clive, he's sorely mistaken. It's in those final seconds where his hand is slipping from the hilt that he's bound by the other's light foot-work and quick defense. Fierce as a wildfire, he's pleasantly being shown the tales are true.

Their warm-up dance lasts for a few minutes, getting Cid's limbs loose and ready to deliver harder blows. He's already panting from the exertion, sweat has begun to soak the hairs at his nape and between the strings of his jacket. One thing that's gone unchanged however, is the grin he wears proud.

This spar is proving to be more than he'd accounted for in all the best possible ways. Clive is extremely talented, clearly at ease when he's in the middle. He's gone from being a tense, polite little thing to a vicious and stubborn fighter. Cid would be proud to have him at his side were he military.

❝ Not goin' too hard on you, am I? You can always call it quits. ❞

Clive has always prefered the outdoors to the castle. Maybe because his mother doesn't often make an appearance out here unless she has to. He's instantly more at ease here, he feels more at home in the outdoors and the stables than he does in his own home.

There may be a lot of insecurities that Clive holds inside. Questions like why doesn't his mother love him? But all of that fades away when he's got a sword in his grip. It's nothing but him and Cid out here in the training area, nothing but peace and perhaps a bit of fun.

Besides, it's beautiful out here. Clive has never been outside of Rosaria but he enjoys the beauty it has. Will gladly proclaim that nothing is more beautiful than his home lands. Except...maybe Cid.l

He shakes that thought from his head with a shake of his head. Now is not the time to start fumbling and getting flustered just from being in the presence of the Lord Commander. Now is the time to impress him, show him what he's got and maybe if he does a good enough job, he'll want to spar with him again at some point.

He's thrilled, excitment thrumming through his veins in a way that it hasn't in a very long time. It spikes his adrenaline and makes him more than ready to defend and attack. He draws his own sword from his hip and plants himself firmly on the ground a few feet from Cid.

But for a moment, Clive is caught off guard. Was that lightning he saw in Cid's gaze? Is he a dominant? Clive hasn't met one other than Joshua but he thinks that spark of lightning in his gaze was beautiful. He wants to see more.

Little flame.

Clive's heart flutters for an entirely different reason now. He likes the nickname and it shows in the way he casts his gaze away from Cid and his cheeks heat up for what feels like the hundredth time in the last hour.

But, he shoves that feeling aside and turns his gaze back to Cid. Never take your eyes off the enemy. Rodney's drilled that into him so many times that his voice is in the back of his head.

He brings his sword up, blue gaze fixated on Cid but he doesn't move. His gaze is challenging, he wants to see what Cid will do before he reacts. Gauge his movements, see what he's capable of, observe and absorb information.

"Are you waiting for me to make the first move? Are you that afraid, Lord Commander?"

Ah, it seems the pup does have bite when it comes to the battlefield.

#EVENING THE ODDS [ R; ] #taleswritten

[riotseas]

It catches Cid off guard—Clive's laughter. He hadn't expected it, most people don't laugh at his jests nor do they take to his sarcasm lightly. His mouth has gotten him in plenty of trouble and although he's been reprimanded for it, he can never quite seem to change.

He's never genuinely wanted to, though it'd make his life much easier; perhaps he just likes to test others. He pushes until he gets a scoff and heads turn, but he never stops because it's fun.

The difference this time? Clive is laughing with him.

His laughter falters momentarily—in absolute awe of the scene before him. Even with Clive's attempts to hide his laughter, it's still clear as day, bright and warm. Cid can see the corners of his eyes crinkle, a gentle flush to his cheeks, it's a goddamn sight to behold and he wishes he could bat Clive's hand away just to see his smile.

Cid bites back his grin, looking off to the side. He must look like a fool, so starry-eyed and so informal all in thanks to Rosaria's First Shield.

They make it outside and he breathes in deep, the aroma of plants and arrangements immediate, though nothing too overwhelming he finds. The ratio of natural greenery to flowers balances out the scent perfectly, and not to mention they're gorgeous.

Reds and whites are sprinkled throughout the yards to match the banners and flags that hang high above the castle—the colors of the Phoenix—it'd be hard to look away from if Clive didn't already have his fancy.

His eyes snap to the other when he spins around, cocking a brow. Clive practically fills with a newfound confidence that makes his stomach flip, he's glowing, this is his calling. No doubt he knows of his strength on the field, you don't exactly claim the 'First Shield' status without a special knack for that sort of thing.

It sends Cid positively reeling.

Instinctively, he reaches for the hilt of his sword, gripping it lightly, caressing the ribs with his thumb as he looks Clive over.

❝ Can't be afraid of something I've yet to see. ❞

Cid licks his lips and steps inside the fence, taking note of the space and how much he'll be able to move about. It's a fine spot for spars, soft dirt in the pen rather than grass for friction, and the wood that lines it doesn't feel as suffocating as it looks. He intends to make the most out of their time in here.

His hand continues to rest on his weapon, unmoving to unsheathe it until Clive gives the ready. Levin sparks behind his eyelids and thrums through his veins, heart racing in utter anticipation for this spar. He wants to test, he wants to push so Clive can shove.

He wants this.

❝ Ready when you are, little flame. ❞

The laughter is contagious. When Cid starts laughing even harder, Clive tries very hard to keep his composure. To not allow himself to fall into a fit of laughter. But it's far difficult than he could have ever imagined, he wants to laugh. Something about Cid's laugh and joy makes him want to be apart of it.

It has been a long time since he's laughed as hard as Cid is laughing. For a few seconds, he manages to keep his composure but it's waning, bubbling up into his throat and he can't swallow it back.

The laughter comes and as soon as it does, Clive's hand flies up to his mouth to try and stifle it. It's not proper of a noble to be laughing in the hallways like this and yet the giggles rumble against the palm of his hand and there's no stopping it. He doesn't want to stop it, even if he's muffled himself with his palm.

It feels good to be in the presence of someone who can make him laugh so hard. The last time he'd laughed like this is with Joshua and those are hard moments to come by with his dear mother looming over Joshua's shoulder nearly every moment of the day.

He remembers a time when he had laughed with his mother and she didn't hate him so much. He tries to shake the thought from his head but the laughter dies down and his hand drops from his mouth so that he can turn his head and advert his gaze from Cid. The memories bring a certain sadness to blue eyes that Clive doesn't want the Lord Commander to see.

He's thankful for the distraction of showing Cid around. It takes his mind off his mother and the happiness they once shared and he finds he likes that he gets to spend time with Cid, even if it's something as simple as showing him around.

"Then we shall go there." Though, Clive finds himself startled that Cid actually wants to see him in action. A Lord Commander showing him and his swordsmanship skills such attention? It makes him feel good and acknowledged, like he matters.

Clive leads him outside, towards the training ground. He shifts, spins on one heel to begin walking backwards so he can keep his eyes on Cid. The gaze is teasing, challenging and mischevious - he's up to something.

Cid makes him feel comfortable enough to let that mask slip and just be Clive Rosfield. Noble qualities or not.

"Why allow an audience when you can join me? Unless you're afraid I'll put your skills to shame."

#EVENING THE ODDS [ R; ] #taleswritten

[riotseas]

📩 for the receiver to write the sender a letter (okay but that one verse where cid and Clive are exchanging letters 👀)

Rosaria's Finest First-Shield,

If you've decided to read this somewhere that's not your room, I suggest waiting until then (unless you enjoy a little thrill, don't let me stop you). I've much to say & require your input and your input only.

My departure was nowhere near ideal, and this will be a piss poor attempt at rekindling that. I know I told you I'd be back, and I will, but I still would have liked to give you a proper goodbye. Who knows, maybe you were itching to get rid of me & I'm getting ahead of myself here. I've grown old, give me a break! But, if I haven't scared you off yet, then I must air my woes a little more.

I rode on chocoback this time. I didn't want to, nor did I want to leave. My first trip round I was able to listen to the damn birds chirp! Would've again if my deadline didn't change, but you know—duty calls & all that. I figured this way too I'd lose less time I could be spending with you.

Not to boost the witch's ego your mother's ego, but Rosaria cleans up well. Think the maids thought I were dead when they'd come in that first morning, I was sleeping like a babe. It's far better than back here, I almost feel sorry I wanted to show you around! Hell, maybe you'll want to, you're a strange one, aren't you?

Look at me, rambling on.

Would rather say this in person and not via my poor penmanship, maybe then you could tell me off and I could get the chance to look at that pretty face of yours. Suppose you could just think of this as a souvenir until then—papers straight from Waloed itself!

If you'd be so keen on writing back, I've given you my personal address. You know, in case of urgency and you need me to help take care of you.

Make use of it as you will, I'll be waiting, Clive.

— Telamon, Cid

#EVENING THE ODDS [ A; ] #taleswritten #// screams into my hAN D

[riotseas]

The heat in here is sweltering, suffocating, Zack doesn't remember mako feeling this dirty but then again he hasn't been in this sort of proximity to it in quite a while. He feels only marginally grateful he was exposed to it the way he was.

He side-steps Barret and brings his sword up to cut clean through a Slug, hurling the two halves out and away from them both. His sigh is heavy over the crash and bangs of metal against metal, though isn't a true testament to how over it he really is. Not to mention, he has to worry about things down south now—the icing on the goddamn cake.

Zack furrows his brows and looks at Barret's finger with full intent on biting it, but decides against it because he really doesn't need to deal with the repercussions of that.

❝ That close already ? Aren't I good at this ! ❞ He grins, eyes darkening in both a playful and testing manner.

Probably the one that let things get this fucked without sending a couple heavenly smites. Seriously, he knows the value of free will n' all, but seven fuckers shouldn't be able to ruin it for the rest of them like SHINRA's doing right now. That god's not here, and it sure as hell isn't gonna' be here to save his sorry ass if he keeps pulling this... desperado shit. Their job is to get in, get out, and blow up these damn death machines. Their job is not to preserve SHINRA's assets. If one of their goons falls in a vat of mako, then fuck it, let 'em. Once the planet runs dry, that's probably what they'll do anyway

Barret points a finger at Zack's face, like he's getting ready to pull out a shoe and thwack 'em. " Don't get smart with me! " This close, mutt. This close. " And don't think I won't. "

#THE ONE THAT IS LEFT BECOMES A HERO [ R; ] #hollowsparda

[riotseas]

cont. from here | @phantasiiae

It's easy to talk to Aerith. She was as funny as she was sweet, a real charmer if Zack could put his two cents in. The florist kept him on his toes—catching him off guard more often than not and it felt good. It was almost freeing in a way, a nice break from the rough and tumble of SOLDIER life.

Though, this is the first time their quietly brewing tension has escalated into something more, something that crosses the line they've been toeing for weeks.

His mouth parts instinctively when he realizes where Aerith's gaze has dropped. Zack watches, heart leaping into his throat as she begins inching closer and he follows in suit. It'd be hard to fight, even if he wanted to—but he wants this so bad, he wants her bad.

The world had been nothing but the two of them for only a matter of seconds, but the gentle embrace of the trance she'd set for him was so strong he didn't notice his phone was ringing until she pulled away.

Zack stutters, making a noise of distress and confusion before he fishes his phone from his pocket. He hasn't looked away from Aerith yet—doesn't want to—and guilt pangs in his chest when he sees her small frown. Then she goes and adds a ' Please? '.

He was truly and officially whipped for this girl.

The ringing is insistent, vibrating in his palm with an annoying fervor. He knows he should answer it, that's part of the job he signed up for, but there's been little for him to indulge in since joining. If he's grown tired of it, is that really his fault? He doesn't think so.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Zack slides the switch down on the side of his phone and chucks it behind him. He doesn't hear where it lands, and cares even less if it survived. All that matters is him and Aerith and that they were busy—

❝ Can I kiss you ? ❞

#THE ONE THAT IS LEFT BECOMES A HERO [ A; ] #phantasiiae #// HE IS CRAZY ABOUT HER !!!

[riotseas]

wee little psa. i won't write threads that involve children, especially if our muses are romantically involved !

#[ PSA ] #it makes me uncomfortable orz

[riotseas]

several things about this clip

1. prompto hiding behind everyone and kinda cowering

2. the way prompto immediately runs to gladio when he hits the car

3. noct fully 100% being ready to throw down with ravus for gladio

#prompto tbt #// prom forgetting he's potentially in danger because of gladdy hhhdfhdhh

[riotseas]

Henry Miller in a letter to Anaïs Nin written c. September 1942, from a Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin and Henry Miller, 1932-53

#THE ONE THAT IS LEFT BECOMES A HERO [ M; ]

[riotseas]

// z/erith ramblings

soooo sick and twisted how they made zack just so hopelessly devoted to aerith. all he wanted was her, even in his last moments. he never stopped looking for her.

#[ OOC ] #it irks me when people say he was like. this playboy super smooth with the ladies type of guy #like first of all hes not That cool (affectionate) and second of all he's literally so clearly in love with her like. ok

[riotseas]

// im in a zerith mood so bad right now uhhhghhfh

#[ OOC ] #i simply think he should kiss her all over .

[riotseas]

Joshua's been in recovery before, and he's unsure why this time around it's harder to move on from. Wasn't it enough he remembers? Well, perhaps there's not a lot of emphasis he can push towards that time considering he wasn't exactly conscious for any of it.

Asleep for five summers to heal from the fated battle between Phoenix and Ifrit—he was bed bound and hidden from the world under the guise of The Undying. They'd praised Her Blessing then, Thank Greagor she saved him because apparently he still had use. Not that he had any say in the matter.

He was up and walking after mere days, taken in carriages across Valisthea to aid in research for something his brain had yet to comprehend. There was only time to grieve in the silent nights, but he made do—the distraction Ultima provided was as welcome as it was loathed.

Now, Origin has been met and the world is healing much like they are, albeit slower and in lesser degrees than the men that were in the crystal. Joshua feels there's at least room to breathe, to sit with everything that happened instead of ushering it to the side, and yet... it wasn't any easier.

If he was to be granted a grace he was going to take advantage of it. He was here, alive, with Dion—the reminder that everything they'd done was worth it, that it worked. But watching the other man from afar, like this, makes him wonder if there was truly no other ways they could've gone about doing what they did.

No physical wound he harbored could compare to the pain that came when he saw the suffrage Dion carried. Navigating—this—was no simple feat, progress is not linear, after all. But Joshua is nothing if not stubborn, he is going to do his part and help the Prince in any way he can.

When he sets his hand on Dion's shoulder, his chest twinges, aching at the dried tears and brokenness of his voice.

❝ Lost in your thoughts? Are you looking for one in particular? ❞

So as to not crowd or overwhelm the other, Joshua drops his hand and leans on the railing. He looks out to the sky, orange and pinks blending along the clouds as the sun dips ever closer beneath the waters. It's beautiful, calming, compared to the harsh and muddied purple they'd been forced to live with in the past.

❝ Not that you're obligated to share, ❞ He adds, mouth quirking into a small smile. ❝ Though don't assume I'm going to leave you alone. ❞

@riotseas

While Dion's recovery has been going smoothly, he wishes it could go quicker. He feels helpless like this, unable to walk without assistance. Even though he gets stronger and stronger everyday, there's some part of him that feels like he should've died there in Origin. Maybe then he wouldn't be such a burden on everyone. That, on top of having to figure out what he's going to do with the empire that has fallen into his lap...it's a lot. It's almost too much to bear. He wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmare after nightmare, crying for Joshua, for his father, for anyone--

He feels pathetic, more than anything. How did it ever come to this?

Dion stares out at the sunset, wiping at his eyes. All these thoughts rush through his head at a million miles per hour, and so caught up is he that he doesn't hear Joshua approaching until his hand comes to rest on his shoulder. "Ah--sorry," he mutters, taking a deep breath in some poor attempt to compose himself. "Hope you haven't been standing there too long. Just...lost in my thoughts, I suppose."

#THE PHOENIX SLEEPS IN THE ROSEBED [ R; ] #phantasiiae #// this got so long IM SO SORRYHGHHFH

[riotseas]

That first roll of Clive's hips against his leg is enough for Cid to need to let up on his cock and squeeze himself hard—though he may have very little of it, he still has some dignity to maintain here.

Clive's too damn pretty for his own good, anymore than he was and Cid is sure he'd die from all the blood that seeps out of his brain and travels down south.

Their eyes remained locked on one another, blown wide and lidded with desire. When Cid isn't looking into Clive's needy baby-blues, he's not gone far. His whole world is in front of him; on his knees, obeying, and being the perfect little pup in training. He's flushed and gasping like it's the best he's ever felt, anxious to see where this goes.

The clothes are just as much of a torture for him as it is for Clive—and that's the point. They serve as a reminder of what's to come, what Clive is hiding under all that leather. Cid might know the man's body better than his own at this point, so all that was hidden is simply left to memories of what it's like to have Clive bare and wanting.

❝ Exactly like that, Clive. You got it. ❞

Once Cid's sure he won't blow his load straight away, he continues stroking himself while watching Clive writhe and moan at his feet. It's a sight he fantasizes about often, one of his favorites, in fact—just the thought of Clive desperate enough to get off but too impatient to do it properly satiates his masturbation material for weeks.

The harder Clive grinds up against him the faster Cid strokes himself. He's fallen into a rhythm that could send him over the edge if he wanted it to, but still just rough enough he can hold back. It's only interrupted when he sees Clive eyeing his cock like it's the first meal he's had in days.

❝ Hungry, are we ? ❞ Cid grins, guiding Clive's head gently forwards so his lips touch the tip.

❝ Just get me real nice n' wet for you. I think you'll have earned your reward by then. ❞

Cid may be obnoxiously arrogant, which gets him in some deep shit more often than not. But if there's one thing he can be relied on for, is that he always comes prepared.

Prepared to stretch Clive on his dick, to be more specific.

He wouldn't fuck him out here like this if they didn't have the proper equipment. He's opened and spread Clive enough he thinks the man's practically molded himself specifically for Cid, yeah. It's easy, especially with how often they go about their fun, but he'd still never go without oil or prep.

So, even though he has Clive making a mess of him—he's got the oil at the ready when he gets him on his back.

No matter how many times he gets to sink into his lover's mouth, it always feels like he's doing it for the first. The heat is truly indescribable, messy and loud and so thirsty for Cid, he almost feels bad he can't give it what Clive wants. But the silent promise of something better to come lingers heavy in the air.

Once he feels he's thoroughly drenched and slick with Clive's spit, he motions him off with a little tap to his cheek. Cid slides out real slow, first watching those red and bruised lips open around the base, then the copious amounts of drool that follow—dripping from his cock and onto the ground below with a curse.

❝ Whaddya' think, sweetheart ? Good enough for you to take ? ❞

If there was any confusion left over, the kiss to his head is enough to clear it up. Sometimes, Clive truly hates how much he can overthink but now that Cid has shown him with affection that he's not actually upset with him, he can go back to thinking of nothing but the pleasure and this raw primal need he has for Cid.

Play with yourself.

The demand is not as harsh as it had been before but Clive still recognizes it as a demand. Cid's leg has not moved from between his legs and Clive is starting to come to the conclusion that maybe Cid wants him to chase his own pleasure by grinding against his leg.

This would be far better if he could get this pesky leather off his body. Cid gets to take his clothes off and Clive doesn't have anything off, though the corset is more open than it usually is thanks to Clive's earlier work in unlacing some of the laces.

He wonders if it makes him look even more enticing, flushed pink from heat and arousal and the corset revealing just enough of his chest that Cid can see his nipples peaking out from the corset.

He said he'd do anything to show Cid he's sorry and he plans on following through with that promise, even if it feels rather embarrassing to have to do this.

He's done this to himself, really, by disobeying. This is the role he easily falls into, as if he was meant to be in this kind of role this entire time. This submissive role that wants nothing more than to please his Daddy. The brat is gone and pure submission follows.

For now, anyway.

He rolls his hips to grind against the leg between his knees, grinding his clothing erection against Cid's leg. His eyes remain locked on Cid, even though he has to tilt his head back enough that it's starting to ache a little.

His lips part in small short gasps as the friction sends pleasure throughout his body, as electric as the lightning that runs through Cid's veins.

It starts out slow but hardly takes anytime for his grinding to get more and more desperate, harsher, seeking out every ounce of pleasure he can get from this. Gasps turn into moans, ones that Clive doesn't bother to hide because no one is going to hear them out here.

"L-Like this?" He questions, hands curling into the grass and dirt beneath him to stop himself from undoing his pants and touching himself completely. He's promised to be good and that means not doing anything without permission first.

Cid looks beautiful, he thinks, stroking himself like he is. His head shifts, he's eye level with Cid's cock and he wants nothing more than to take him back into his mouth. He's eying him hungrily, transfixed on the way precum leaks from the tip and the way he slowly touches himself, but he doesn't make a move for it, waiting on Cid's next command, whatever it may be.

#EVENING THE ODDS [ R; ] #taleswritten #nsft #daddy kink cw

[riotseas]

Cid considers it a personal accomplishment; getting Clive to break the noble facade is far more rewarding than it should be, and it's made all that much sweeter when he bites back. Like a pup who hasn't quite found his voice yet.

The outburst only spurs on Cid's laughter and honestly, he hadn't expected to break the lad so soon—though he's certainly not complaining. Clive's pout is adorable, and reminds Cid how young the boy really is.

He should feel ashamed; thinking such things of someone his age, not even mentioning the fact he's the son of the goddamn Duchy. But before Cid can scrutinize his own thoughts, Clive is on him with both a retort and an answer, one so honest, to his idea of a date.

Ah, well, what's the harm in having a little fun.

❝ Hm, s'quite a big feat for someone like me. Dunno how well that'll bode over. ❞

Cid swipes his tongue over his teeth, cheeks sour with the way he's been smiling. He nods along when Clive responds to his explanations in kind, catching him up to speed where it seems like others haven't.

Maybe it wouldn't make sense for them to fill Clive in on such matters. After all, what does Cid know? He's just the messenger, really. Yet, it troubles him that someone of his caliber wouldn't be brought into discussion. Clive is a shield, yes, but a shield of The Phoenix. Sounds pretty important to him.

He reminds himself the order of the Rosfields' is unnecessary and well, not his business. So he drops the subject to listen to the rest of Clive's tour instead.

Cid tries to separate the various rooms by how likely he'd be to need them, lest he just confuse himself more and forget where everything is entirely. He's grown, and doesn't want to be asking someone every five minutes where something is.

That is, unless Clive's the one showing him around. He'll feign being directionless just for the off-chance they get to speak a little more.

Then, Clive, as sweet as ever, proposes yet another suggestion that Cid couldn't say no to even if he tried.

❝ Lead the way, though I must admit I'm especially keen on seeing the training grounds. I mean it when I said I wanted to see you in action, if you allow an audience. ❞

Up until now, Clive has been nothing but a proper noble, respectful, quiet, and reserved. But then Cid has to go and laugh at him and in the blink of an eye, the mask slips. At first, Clive seems stunned he's being laughed at and then that quickly slips away, only for him to exclaim an, "Hey! Don't laugh at me!" Accompanied with his bottom lip jutting out in a pout at Cid's laughter.

However, it seems Cid's laughing does not seem to discourage him. "I'd like to walk there with you, if you'd like." Meeting up there is a good option, probably the better option, but already Clive longs to spend as much time with him as he possibly can. "I don't wish to get rid of you, Cid. Though, if you keep laughing at me, that might change." He's not upset - in fact, it seems to be a playful jest on Clive's part.

"She's quiet but I think you'll like her." She's the closest thing to a best friend that Clive has. Joshua, too. The three of them are very close, after all. It's been like that since the moment they had met.

Instead of lingering in the doorway of library, Clive begins walking again, to guide Cid through the hallway and away from the sleeping quarters. He listens to Cid talk while they walk, daring a glance at him once.

"Eikon. Like the Phoenix is Joshua's." An allyship with Elwin? Clive isn't sure how to feel about it but he doesn't speak his doubts - his father knows what he's doing.

A week. How much of that week will he get to spend with Cid? Will he come back multiple times? Will Cid vanish out of their lives when Barnabas comes? So many questions that Clive squashes away/

For the next few minutes, Clive points out the various areas within the castle. He points out the kitchen, the dining room, some activity rooms, a room where fencing and other studies is taught and various other things too.

Until the only thing is left is outside. "Would you like me to show you around outside too? I don't wish to keep you if you rather sleep, your journey has been long."

#EVENING THE ODDS [ R; ] #taleswritten

[riotseas]

📏 Cid (6'1) and Joshua (5'11) for Clive >:)) !!

Cid & Clive:

Joshua & Clive:

#THE PHOENIX SLEEPS IN THE ROSEBED [ M; ] #EVENING THE ODDS [ M; ] #' AND I'VE TURNED DOWN EVERY HAND THAT HAS BECKONED ME TO COME ' #' CHIMNEY FALLS & LOVERS BLAZE ' #// need this on my account too because it is very amusing to me hsdfhdh

[riotseas]

I think I'm pretty normal = I would get off on getting hunted for sport by the person of my desire

#//WAS JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS WITH JAY THE OTHER DAY HSHDFHD #' CHIMNEY FALLS & LOVERS BLAZE '

[riotseas]

Cid's tears are of many things—love, fear, gratitude. He cries for Clive, something he hasn't done in a long time, especially not for someone else. He weeps, silently now as he tries to figure out just what to do.

It's hard for him to put into words, to show in a way that wasn't full of sacrificials and acts of service when the night is young. But Clive has completely and utterly changed his life. He restrung every damn string that sewed his limbs and heart together, without breaking a sweat, without realizing it himself.

That was how he was. Clive was so human it was hard to look at, but then he goes and does things like this that make Cid wonder if he was but a figment of his imagination all along. An otherworldly being that belonged elsewhere, that was only tethered to this earth via Cid's selfishness.

Maybe he was, yet Clive cries as though he can stay. So he believes him.

An unfamiliar companion makes its way, seeping into Cid's bones-helplessness. Never one to be so pessimistic, the feeling is so foreign he gets dizzy trying to make sense of it all.

Clive is talking. He's talking, breathing, saying something that the tears blur and Cid can't hear. He can't hear, he doesn't want to hear because he isn't being told what he wants to. It's awfully childish, unbecoming of someone his age but it's not fair. Why is he saying these things?

Stop saying these things.

❝ What ? ❞ Cid says, after an eternity.

He stares, almost at Clive, in his direction but he can't really be sure. Then he throws himself Cid's way, the same as he, and he doesn't understand. Nauseous, he swallows the bile threatening to come up. It burns, kickstarts his heart and the blood in his ears ebbs away. All that's left is Clive in his arms.

There's fingers at his back; real, genuine, and the only thing worth for Cid to beg the Gods for. He's cursed at them, used their names in vain and still foolishly decides to beg for forgiveness. They won't, nor can't, it doesn't matter which—it's not for him, not really. He preaches for Clive because that's who matters, who can decide whether or not Cid is worthy, something he hasn't been in a long time.

Slowly, desperately, he reaches to thread his fingers through Clive's hair. Dark and ashy, but soft like the light of the sun. He combs through it, presses his cheek against his head and breathes in the smell of fire. It's almost boyish, in a way; simpler times where they needn't worry about such trivial matters.

❝ You beg for my love, yet think I'd be better off without yours ? ❞

Cid trembles as he talks. It hurts—everything hurts in ways he never thought possible. Could he ever hope to be redeemed? Is dedication what they seek? The will to fight could only ever have a chance at surviving if Clive is there with him, what's the point if he's not?

❝ You say I wouldn't have this pain, but I would. You act like it's some—some obligation, a burden to love you and it's not. ❞

He tightens his hold on Clive the longer he talks. Cid cries, voice breaking with every word. Was this failure? Was that why it stung so bad? Had he failed Clive?

❝ You have... ❞ He shakes, swallowing a yell. ❝ no right to tell me anything. Not when you—you walk into my life just to try and leave. Like I wouldn't follow you to the ends of the fucking earth. ❞

The uncertainty of Clive's fate is one he hadn't truly considered until now. He'd always felt there was a place ready for him once this was all said and done; a place they could come home to. But it feels so out of reach now, a fantasy he spent so long chasing he forgot it wasn't real.

He doesn't understand. Less so, now.

Now, he whispers, breathes into the cusp of Clive's ear, muffled by his skin.

❝ Don't do this to me. ❞

Cid wants to forget, he doesn't want to think about the inevitable.

❝ Don't leave when I still have so much left to give you. ❞

Stop.

The simple demand makes anything else he was about to say catch in his throat and all that comes out now is a pained sound, awful and devastating as it catches in his throat. A choked sob. Has he lost Cid for good? Did he tell him stop because he doesn't want to hear anymore?

Clive's preparing himself for the inevitable end of what they have. This beautiful love that he never let himself dream of before meeting Cid, overwhelming wonderful love, is going to vanish because of his mistake. Because of what he's done.

What was that saying?

It's better to have loved and loss than never to have loved at all.

But Clive doesn't want to lose. He doesn't want to lose the love of his life because of one stupid mistake. Before Cid, Clive has never put any thought into soulmates but Cid feels like his and right now his soul is crying out at the thought of losing it's puzzle piece.

But instead of stumbling back and taking off, Cid smooths thumbs over sore shoulders and Clive isn't sure if that is good or worse. If Cid doesn't want him anymore, he wants the bandaid ripped off, no matter how much it may hurt.

You've always been my Clive.

Oh how he wants to whine and throw himself at Cid's feet for even the slightest hint of forgiveness. He wants to be worthy of being Cid's, even when he feels like he's not worthy at all. Like right now.

You won't get rid of me that easily.

For a second, there is a flicker of hope in those blue eyes that this can be saved, that he can salvage their relationship and earn the love Cid has for him back. But then Cid speaks again and that hope only turns into pure and utter sadness. The tears flow fast, no longer able to hold them back.

It's not fair. Not at all.

How could he hurt Cid like this? How could he possibly hurt him when he has vowed to love and protect Cid for as long as he shall live?

It isn't his goal to die, not anymore, even if he knows by the end of this it's a real possibility and there are days where he feels like dying. Moments like now where all he can think about is how better of everyone would be if he was dead. But he's not actively seeking dying. Not intentionally, at least. Even if he's careless with his life sometimes, he's not seeking that end.

Though, Clive understands why it must feel like he is.

"I-It's not fair. Nothing about this is fair. You'd be better off without me." Don't leave me. "You wouldn't have this pain." But I will. "I feel like I keep saying it so much that it is losing it's meaning but I am sorry." Please don't leave me, Cid.

He wants to lie to Cid and reassure him that there is nothing to worry about and Ultima's essence in side of him will die with him, along with the rest of the magic in the world, but Clive can not be certain.

He should have thought about that before taking this power. This power and guilt that is eating him from the inside out. At the time, he'd thought it was worth it in order to protect others he loved. Now, he feels like he's sold his soul.

"I-I don't know." How could he lie to Cid? He wants to but he's never been good at lying to him. "I assume so....it's as if this is like an eikon and with Ultima's demise, it's possible it will go away but.....I can't be certain."

He falters for a moment, taking in a deep breath. On the exhale he suddenly throws himself at Cid this time around, arms wrapping around him, face burying against his chest as fingers curl around the fabric on his back.

"Forgive me. I will beg if I must. If that is what you need to keep loving me, I will beg you and try to earn - to be worthy of - your love and trust for an eternity."

Just don't leave me. I cannot do this without you.

#EVENING THE ODDS [ R; ] #taleswritten

[riotseas]

// some people need to have their writing ability taken away whAT THEFUCK

#[ OOC ] #IM SO HURT #YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE