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anonymousxaela · 10 months

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Irys Gets a Step Daddy

The location of a slaying was the most important decision one had to make. A poor choice meant interruption or escape.

Take A’rakh Tia’s office, for instance. The apartment walls were thin and there were neighbors on either side, so if activities became too loud, an interruption could occur. On the other hand, the office only had two entry ways - the door and one window - hence it’d be simple to barricade the egresses from intrusion or escape until the task was done as long as the noise levels remained at somewhat alarming rather than extremely so.

The man sighed as he shuffled into his office. He did not check the lock on his window. He did not look around his office, he merely dragged his feet around the heaps of trash on the floor and collapsed in his chair.

It had taken Irys a time to locate a spot to lean against his cabinet that wasn’t polluted by grease caked dust. The spot she picked was still greasy, but it had less layers than the other spots. She’d still have to bathe after this regardless of how much blood went spurting. The man was simply vile. There was no other way to put it. Had she chosen any other location in the kitchen to wait, putrid bits of food would have joined the grease.

His aether itself was revolting. It was this that she had been watching ever since he had entered the building. It was hot, orange, but tainted and repugnant with the taste of stale smoke. It could have easily been a beautiful aetherical signature, but he ruined it with stale smog just like his own lungs. He was the exact kind of man she would expect her mother to fuck.

A’rakh grumbled as he poured a drink, unaware of the xaela relaxing behind his kitchen partition.

His polluted aether formed the silhouette of his body that Irys observed without eyes as she waited, watching it shuffle some papers. She gave him time to settle in, relax, let his guard down.

Once enough time had passed and his mannerisms settled into a predictable pattern, she unhooked the two-hand sized glaives from her side and fed her aether into their foci gems which then gained a slight glow once full. Then she simply released them.

The blades did not fall. They hovered and took a life of their own, beginning a slow rotation as they levitated. Their spinning velocity gradually ramped up like a machine as the aether followed minute circuits laid through the radial symmetry of the weapons. Foul liquid, almost purple in hue, splattered from their edges as the centripetal forces fed it from its reservoir. They started to sound like whirring fans as they diced the air, but that sound was covered by Rakh’s real fan blowing overhead above him.

A line of Iry’s glacial aether tethered her to the glaives, and as they launched forward, so did the connection. To her, it was more akin to her aether being long, invisible limbs holding the weapons and lashing out like a painful whip at their victim.

They missed.

“Bloody shite!” A’rakh sputtered as the blades smashed into his chair on either side of his neck, managing to keep the cigarette in his mouth despite the cloud of splinters. "WHAT THE FUCK!" He scrabbled to the floor and grabbed something beneath his desk, now clearly aware of the danger he was in.

A mighty gale followed the path of the glaives, sending Rakh’s papers all over the room in a chaotic flurry. The wind aether, fed through her tether, swarmed around the weapon and reversed their crash, lifting them up once more where their rotations began anew, spinning up to velocity while they started a circling path around their target to build momentum.

“FUCKING DAMN IT, WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS!?", he exclaimed in bewilderment.

It was starting to get noisy. Irys branched two new tentacles of aether out to his doorway and window where her own icy aether flowed and started to encrust their seams to prevent distractions. Multitasking to such a degree soothed her mind, kept it distracted. She enjoyed running at full capacity, the rush of external aether using her as its conductor, its focus, made her present. She was now acutely aware of the external world, without experiencing it through a veil.

Rakh tossed a book from his desk at the spinning blades, and that cost him. His window of escape vanished as her aether finalized sealing the exits with a dry ice that pooled mist over the floorboards. He would have successfully escaped if he had made an immediate sprint for the door.

The glaives swooped for him again in angular pathways, not straight this time to avoid hard contact with any furniture. They would give up core hits and settle with glancing blows on his limbs, making short, curved dives and spins.

The man cursed as blood sprayed from their tiny little hits, the spinning of the blades spreading the blood more than the depth of the actual contact. He raised the object he had previously picked up from the underside of his desk and started firing at the weapons. His gun blazed three times, and each time a clunk from the bullet contacting metal was heard.

The blades were now warped from the blunt force of being shot, but they were still spinning hunks of metal. And these spinning hunks of metal revved down to alight gently on the wood. They glistened with liquid other than his blood, grey-purple and thick.

A’rakh Tie let out a sigh with that being over. "Fuck kind of nutjob sends in haunted ass blades?? Who the fuck are you!?"

The clicking of heels announced Irys’s presence as she walked out from behind the partition and spoke in her usual monotone, chill tone, "Greetings, Arakh'a Tia. I would appreciate if you kept your voice down. The neighbors shall be upset."

His head shoved up to scowl his extreme displeasure at the xaela. "The FUCK, Irys!"

"The fuck? Yes, the fuck indeed." A flaming hot stare, pupils penetrative and hungry countered his scowl.

A’rakh groaned and fell back into his chair, swiping a hand over his face. "Yeah, alright. I deserve the hate."

“Yes. You owe an explanation." She stepped forward and swiped the nearly empty bottle he had been using just before the assault, finishing it off. It tasted cheap. Cheaper than cheap. Like he had found it in the gutter of Limsa, still soured for the last patron that had been sucking on it. And she loved it.

"Look, I didn't go into the steppe aimin' to go after your mom. It was just the business you sent me after..." He pulled off glasses as if expecting a strike to the face.

She looked down at his other bottles with keen interest. Which one would she try next? "I do recall paying you and specifically giving the order not to sod my mother."

"I like her, and look... I'll give you the money back for that job. I did a rotten thing and broke your trust and my word to you."

"You utterly defied my orders."

"Your village, that area out there. It reminded me of my home, long back. The situation the Mankhad are in, I felt for them. I would have told you earlier about... the relationship with your mother, but I felt like I was just heaping grievances on you, considering what you sent me out there for in the first place."

Irys lifted her eyes from the somewhat evaporated bottle collection and cast a disinterested gaze over him, “"A'rakh. While your taste in women should be enough punishment, I fear that I am petty and vengeful. Grudges never dissipate."

“Your mom's a crazy bitch, but she is fighting for them.”

A gust of polar air threatened Rakh's papers again and the weapons twitched in their graves.. She tapped a metal claw from the jewelry she donned against a bottle, "Open that and hand it to me. Firstly, A'rakh. My mother does not enter relationships. She uses men as dildos. You are nothing to her. Therefore, the word ‘relationship’ is incorrect. There is nothing between you. You are a device she stuffs into a chest once she is done with it.”

He glanced down at his papers fluttering in the icy blast and responded, "Fine-fine," before cracking the top off one of the bottles and handing it over to the witch. "Yes, I realize. I did have.. faint hope she'd follow me back here. Hell, I'd even take care of her pile of kids." He shifted uncomfortably, moving slightly as if to correct his posture. "She reminded me a lot of my wife. Uncontrollable rage, the whole warrior spirit."

The disgusting bottle of cheap liquor was downed by Irys without hesitancy. "Are you truly that much of an underachiever?"

"People like that you can't really tie down and make domestic."

"No. But akin to an animal, you are nothing but a meal." She shrugged. “It matters not. You create suffering for yourself. I need not interfere, likely."

He shook his head. "Fern isn't a burden to me. Tegusken being an empty promise for companionship isn't going to interrupt my sleep."

"Fern is your child. That is.. Serviceable." The icy stare returned at the mention of her mother’s name. Only a stare, because she knew that soon the liquid coating from the blades would take effect. Why waste energy hurting him further? Keep the victim calm, not screaming. Less attention meant less interruption.

"The one and only thing that bothers me about all of this was and is hurting you. You were a good client and a friend. I'm sorry I couldn't control myself."

"Yes. Your morality is clearly lofty. Afterall, you did continue your actions for the sake of your cock."

"No, I did.. honestly want to..." he breathed out a ragged sigh, his shoulders slumping with weight, "I had lofty goals, lofty impossible goals."

"You are led by your cock entirely. You may desire to take care, as Lili may remove it for you."

"Everything here, Irys - this whole business was to support my daughter.”

"Absolutely understandable and commendable, but fucking my mother did not aid your daughter."

“Your mom, was just me being fucking stupid. Thinking I could start a family with a bloody typhoon."

"Start a family?" She would keep him talking and bide her time.

"Yes. I wanted to bring her back here, marry the woman and have a proper fucking normal life."

"That is.. Lugubrious. It is as if you choose a random vagina from a gutter"

"Absurd as that sounds. That's what I wanted from all of that."

"In a happier state, I may hold suggestions for you. But currently, your suffering is suitable. Anyroad, I suppose you somehow succeeded since you have received Fern."

"I lost a daughter, Irys. I have Fern but I also lost."

"Do not hold your daughter's demise over my skull, as your mistakes took place before such occurred. I mayhaps would have had pity otherwise. Fern is at the least two cycles in age."

"They did, yes."

"Then face the consequences clearly without a pity soak."

"Do as you wish, Irys. I deserve your ire. You wanted an explanation, I gave it. But there's no excuse for breaking your trust."

"No," she agreed.

A’rakh limply rolled his head towards his body, suddenly finding it very difficult to move at all. His digits no longer brought back any stimuli. "I see."

"Yes. You see."

"I held you in the highest regard, you know. But I guess I'm too much of a piece of shit to respect that."

"Doubtlessly. While I possess plenty of issues, you somehow have managed to be a larger rubbish heap than myself. Congratulations."

"You gonna kill me, Irys?"

"I may. Others shall care for Fern, you are unnecessary."

"I'm older, Irys. Trash piles on as the years go by."

"That is no excuse, A'rakh."

"It isn't."

"The more years, the more wisdom that ought don. And yet.. here you exist. No wisdom."

He chuckled bitterly. It was difficult to remain upright and his posture gradually ended in a slump against the back of his chair. His eyes remained pinned on Irys despite the uncomfortable angle.

Irys watched him passively as the venom paralyzed his nervous system.

Arakh Tia spoke, “ tried to talk to her about you."

"I care not. That beast is dead to me."

"For what is it worth to you, she feels the same."

She pressed her lips tightly together, "Yes. Inconsolable differences."

"I can imagine."

"She appreciates ideals over the physical. I am more practical."

He chuffed out a series of weak gasps for air, nearly a cough but too weak to accomplish it. "That's what I liked about you."

Irys gulped down more booze from Rakh’s bottle, head tilted upwards with eyes downcast with a partial lowering of the lids as if she was peering down at something disgusting, akin to a bug. "I am what you witness. Little games. Although, I do yet fail to hold back on the games entirely."

"Will this make you feel better?" His pupils were slowly expanding, losing focus.

"It shall cause me to feel nothing. It is the principal of the matter."

"Closure."

"I suppose." She pressed her lips tighter, displeased about something in this situation.

"That is a feeling, it's satisfaction."

Irys didn’t reply with words, just a sound of affirmation before she had more liquid.

The Tia’s eyes started to slip closed, and she commented, "Your office is a hot mess."

"Depression is a hell of thing, Irys."

"Indeed."

"You hurt people around you, even loved ones since you feel like... you deserve... nothing..."

Her mouth tightened with further dissatisfaction at this situation, "You are a despicable cretin."

“You're not wrong. But you knew that for a while."

"And as far as I know, you may enjoy this treatment. Given your history."

"No. I don't enjoy hurting you."

"Suffocating is not your flavor? I understand that such may at times heighten arousal."

"No, more into claws and bites. I am a catte." He sniffed, tears forming in his eyes while the lack of oxygen tore at his mind, "I'm sorry, I'm so... sorry. You were a good friend, I didn't d...des..." then he slumped forward onto his desk, consciousness giving out.

Irys heaved out a heavy breath and rolled her eyes. An actual expression. It was a good, full roll of exasperation. But no one was conscious to witness it.

The problem was that she know A’rakh’s personality type well. Too well. He was just a mirror reflecting herself. The fact that the man wanted to die and had been waiting for death was plastered as clearly as the light in the sky. And she couldn’t well just give him what he wanted.

He had to live to suffer. As unfortunate as that was.

She dashed forward and shoved a hand under his throat to shove the unconscious man back into his seat, using momentum more than strength to accomplish this since she lacked it. He did not respond to the violence, of course, as he couldn’t. Irys reached into her gown and pulled out a contraption of a mask with a valve on it and plaster it over Rakh’s mouth and nose then leaned over as if to kiss the man and breathed into the mask, providing air to his lungs.

The Mankhadi venom was a paralytic. It didn’t kill directly. It stopped your higher organs from functioning. There was a chance it could cause Rakh’s heart to stop too, which would be very bothersome, but she had tried to limit his contact with it.

For now she would just manually breathe for the fucker.

For the next four sodding bells.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The body’s function of breathing naturally formed a precise pattern, following the same number of ticks after another, and Irys lost herself in this. She withdrew and allowed her body to function as a machine, cutting off higher processes of thought.

It was after a long period of time that Rakh finally managed to mutter, “..debt..."

Another beauty of the venom was that the host didn’t generally loose unconsciousness, just bodily function. It didn’t attack the mind, outside of the lack of oxygen. Irys provided the oxygen; thus, A’rakh was aware the entire time after adequate breath had been restored to him, yet he lacked the capacity to do anything but exist helpless while another fed life into him.

He took a few shallow, shaky breaths as his body explored the returned ranges of its ability, “You didn't... need to do that..."

Irys tossed the used masked into the Tia’s garbage bin before regarding him with lowered lids and a wrinkle in her cheeks of disgust, "What is suffering if you lack life?" Now free from her duty, she rounded back around his table and resumed stealing his liquor, falling back into the seat he had placed for the clientele.

Still unsteady, Rakh’s eyes rolled back as he tried to stabilize himself in his chair, "What now?"

"I welcome you to the family, stepfather."

"You... what..."

"Is that not the case? You have fathered my sister."

He groaned as if in actual, physical pain and asked bitterly, "Yes...Do I get a father's day card from you now?"

"Such holidays are an Ul’dahn capitalist ploy and I do not participate in these."

"Grand. If you call me daddy I'm shooting myself."

Her eyes twinkled mischievously from over the bottle she was sipping, "That is the plan, yes. Greetings, Daddy."

A’rakh gave her a stare of complete and utter defeat, his soul pressed to its breaking point. The man is just broken, tired, and in agony. "I hate this."

"Yes, Daddy. This is quite the predicament you have led us to."

"You should have killed me."

"Bodily harm possesses no effect on you, evidently. Thus I must resort to the psychological."

"This is too cruel."

"I must also point out that all your belongings are now mine, as you are my Daddy. Now, open another bottle as I do require this."

The catte grimaced and weakly opened another bottle to push to her.

"I am adept at locating weak points in antagonists." Irys finished her bottle and moved on to this new one, because gods, did she need it. Calling A’rakh daddy was painful. It was just that it hurt him more than it did her and she was such a spiteful soul. "Your office is filthy. You ought clean it. Especially since such is now my inheritance, mayhaps.."

"Other than this, have you been well? You and Ky? I've not spoken at length with you in a while."

"Ah, yes. I suppose you may now be privvy to my personal dealing as you are one of my plenty stepfathers, now. Kyzo and myself have been well. We are trying for a child."

He met her with an incredulous look.

Rather than reply to the question that look entailed, Irys pressed on, "That is to speak, Kyzo is riding me bareback. Do you care for me to elaborate further?"

"I like you two, so no."

“No? As family I reckon you are free to gain all details."

A’rakh quickly changed the subject, “I didn't take you for the mothering type."

"I am not. No. The deal is Kyzo raises the offspring. I shall protect it, but Kyzo does the parenting."

"He's a severe alcoholic. Your husband."

"And so are you,” she pointed out.

"Yes, you know what to look for when you are a thing."

"If you do not kill Fern, Kyzo shall not likely kill our offspring."

"I hope it brings you some happiness then."

"My desire is Kyzo's happiness."

Rakh reproached her, "That is not healthy, Irys."

"Yes, you hold much space to speak on such topics."

"I would know, yes. I'm in the pit telling you not to dig your own.""

"I care not for child birthing. It is a simple matter for myself. Kyzo desires offspring. I shall function as an incubator. It is no matter."

"There's that cold logic again," he rumbled.

"Yes. What is your point?"

"Dissociation."

"Yes. That is correct. At this point, that is my personality."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's a defense tactic. Children develop it sometimes from trauma. I see it sometimes." He motioned to a few of his files which were now scattered all about on the floor, “It's tragic.”

Irys stared at Rakh unblinkingly while taking a slow draught from the second bottle. "I have reached safety, yet it continues. I assume such is now myself. A decade."

"Long time. Shame our lives were not different."

The stare continued flatly while she drank, "We appear to have much in common, Daddy. Grand."

“You did like me. We were friends."

“You were functional, yes."

"I enjoyed you, you didn't try to grab for my dick within moments."

Her head inclined slightly, “Such is a compliment I am granted in Ul'dah often."

"It's a rare gem in that city."

"Incest is not my fetish, fear not."

“You're too young anyway. And cold, I like fire."

"You create assumptions, but we shall not continue this path of conversation as I do not care for the resolution."

He changed the topic again, wisely, reminiscing, “I was in the military for a decade, did I ever tell you this?"

"Yes. Garlean. You aided in the enslavement and suffering of others. Congratulations."

"Conscripts didn't get a choice, but you are right."

"If only you had held the courage to end yourself there."

"Shame."

"Shame,” she agreed.

"I'm glad you're doing well, though."

"We are both employed by Lili. We are considerably both doing well."

"I'm more of a living trophy for Lili to gloat about."

"Consider yourself a pet.:"

Rakh grumbled, "Yes, I believe that was in the contract."

"Grand. Once I am in power, does that make you my pet?"

"I hate everything in what you just said."

"You do not care to be my pet, Daddy?"

"No. NO!” he shouted.

"A pity. Were you into degradation and neglect I would offer you a feast."

"You're not my type."

Irys finished the second bottle and set it next to the other one. The booze lubricating her mind helped this direction of conversation very, very much. “I am grateful.”

"And I enjoyed our friendship."

"Yes. You have severely complicated our friendship."

"Regretfully. I hope you don't extend your hostility to Fern."

"No. Fern shall be protected. But I desire nothing to do with her raising."

"You do not have to do anything in regards to her raising. But you are still a sister."

"I do not care for Fern to be aware that I am such."

"She may seek to have a relationship with you."

"Do not confide such with her. I am a stranger."

"Are you certain? She would look up to you," he regarded Irys.

Irys was not looking with her eyes, although she faced him. They were unfocused and staring at Rakh’s direction, but not at him. "I do not act as a sister should. And she should not look up to me."

"If that's your wish, then I'll keep it from her. But don't expect it to last forever. The others in the house have mouths."

"Such would generate... questions. Questions you would need face. When she is at age, I may explain the situation to her with brutal honesty. And allow her to know her father is a slut."

"I assume she'll come to that conclusion regardless since I have Ka.”

“Yes, you date degenerate sludge. I would suggest you raise Fern elsewhere... but..-" Irys roamed her eyes around the room at all the visible trash, stains, and food chunks.

Rakh followed her gaze, “Point taken. Look, Ka is flashy. I keep things private and to myself.”

"Ka is a slut. You do have a type, Daddy."

"Yes." He cringed again at being called Daddy, Irys’s words acting as small paper cuts.

"Do better. For Fern.”

"For her I will. And you as well."

"I will hold you to that. My role to her is her protection, and that includes from you as well."

"If it comes to that. Your mother never told me of her."

"Her children to not register to her. Not until they are of use."

Rakh frowned unhappily, "Yes, I realize that. At least one is saved from her."

“Yes. Now ensure that you do no worse than she would have”

"I can promise you that."

"I shall hold you to such."

"Feel free."

"I am aware of how to harm you. It is not death."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead before motioning with a hand, signaling defeat, and Irys replied with, "Grand. We now appear on the same page. I suppose I shall take my leave of you, now."

"Keep well, Irys."

"Enjoy your.. Life." She strung out the words tauntingly.

"You as well."

"Do not have cause for me to return."

"I hope someday you do, for happier reasons."

"...mayhaps if you shape up and do inner work."

Rakh dared a smile, "Maybe I'll clean up next time."

The smile wasn’t returned, "Yes. Please. The back of my dress now holds oil stains from where I had been leaning...and my hair."

The man returned to his paperwork and had the gall to say, "Also, you need to work on your aim, daughter."

"I was not providing my full effort."

"Mhm."

"I received the desired outcome. It is a success."

"It was messy."

"Messy, but passable. Your death was ensured even if neighbors were alerted. By the by, you do need to replace your window lock."

“You’re expensive.” He frowned.

"Fathers should spoil their daughters."

Rakh flinched visibly and sighed, hands returning to rub the bridge of his nose as if he’s experiencing a great headache.

"Farewell. I had best not need return here."

He retorted, "You already said this."

"I am emphasizing it since your mind is within your cock and I assume petite."

"I'm not responding." Rakh looked down at his desk as if to go through his papers which were now instead all over his floor, trying unconvincingly to signal that the conversation was over.

She allowed his disconnection from their discussion with a simple, “Grand,” and fanned out her dress with a twirl to face the now clear door and let herself out.

#ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv #crystal dc roleplay #crystal rp ffxiv

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kellachfromthewoods · 2 years

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Quest of the Avatar

The Void was a frightening and fascinating thing, well worth the study. Without necessarily knowing what caused an entire realm to be overcome with darkness, Einrich had a little idea as to the nature of what Eorzeans called the Void.

It was, of course, a lie. The Void is the absolute absence of things. Whatever happened to those who fell to Blasphemies? That was void. There was no aether dispersion - he had confirmed that well enough - whatever composed the person was utterly and irremediably gone.

Yet when Einrich compared the sheer malevolence and power of what Eorzeans claimed was the Void to the remains of Blasphemies, he knew immediately Eorzeans were wrong as far as the Void was concerned.

The Void was merely Darkness and Darkness can be fought.

"Are you listening?" A coarse voice broke Einrich's thoughts.

"The creation of an Avatar requires tapping into the Void to find a creature willing to part with a portion of its power in exchange for the aether of our victims. Therefore, it is of the utmost importance that whatever sentient being we pick is researched as much as possible." Einrich recited, in his own words.

"Good. Thing with that is when we Garleans decided to fight back using this power, there wasn't much literature on the damned beasts. We had no idea of whatever Shadow Court, Cloud of Darkness, and other things that Eorzeans discovered over the years. Now, we do, so we can avoid these types of mistakes. So, if, say, Forgall seeks a pact with you, sever the connection", his makeshift instructor said. Einrich nodded. He hadn't surveyed the Mhachi ruins himself, but he'd heard enough rumors from adventurers with dubious connections that anything involved with that should be better off staying in the Darkness.

And if there's something Einrich had learned over the years - Power dictated the rules of engagement.

"Much like the farmers we were, in order to reap, you must first sow. Whatever you sow is what you will end up reaping. If you sow something beyond your ability, then you'll reap death. If you sow something too weak, then you will reap nothing. My mentor told me that, and damned if I didn't see young fools get consumed by beast or Voidsent for doing too much or too little."

The instructor planted his scythe's butt in the ground, through solid rock.

"If you can take it out, we can move on."

Einrich took a stern look at his instructor, one who had already divined what the lesson plan was. Humility. Recognizing that he did not have the strength necessary to pull a metallic scythe embedded through solid rock by an experienced reaper who obviously tapped into the power of his Avatar to make sure it stayed there. Humility was not a lesson he needed to learn - He had been served that since youth. Ever since Kellach eclipsed him in their tasks despite Kellach being the younger brother, since his position on the council was undermined due to his relative youth, since he was unable to save his people, since destroying the lives of so many resistance members from simply associating with him for what ended up being... nothing.

"You've used your Avatar to make sure this thing won't budge. I could train and build my body for a year, with the best possible food, that this scythe wouldn't even move after all that work. The only thing that would allow me to move it is either supernatural aetheric strength, or calling upon a similar power."

The instructor smirked.

"Oh, and why is that?"

This is where Einrich shined. If there was something he knew, it was terrain and his instructor's choice of terrain was very much intentional.

"First, the rocks here are extremely sturdy, and a regular spoken, no matter how trained, would not be able to shatter them in such a clean cut way with a specific stick without the stick being made of an absurdly hard material and angled such. Your scythe is not. Second, the scythe itself is weighted down as it is meant to be wielded by someone who has access to such strength. No doubt a battle-hardened Roegadyn, Hrothgar or someone gifted with aforementioned aetheric strength could wield it, but not with the lightness of step that you do. Third, while I have gained physical strength and endurance on this journey, I would exert myself doing this and perhaps get it out by... let's be generous and say about three ilms, but most likely two. After an hour of attempting to pull it by any means necessary. Fourth, as this is a lesson in order to test my readiness to create an Avatar, I cannot in good conscience use my Arcanima to help, and even so, it would not exactly help in any major way, as I cannot manipulate the Earth. If you still want me to try, then I will, but I see no point in doing so when I am set up for failure."

The mentor smirked even further.

"Guess I can't slip one by you." He recalled the scythe to him. "Took me two days to figure out I couldn't do it and I'd been set-up by my own mentor. You're right though. As reapers, we're calling upon a power that isn't ours. If there's a full blown Voidsent invasion, the entities we bind ourselves to aren't going to help: They're going to be in there, attempting to kill us and take over. That is why a reaper needs the humility to understand exactly the difference between personal strength and power borrowed."

Einrich nodded. Power borrowed was a good way to put it. After all, at the end of the day, if you had aetheric strength, you would not be seeking an avatar.

#einrich woods #ffxiv rp #crystal rp ffxiv #balmung rp

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