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runicloreSurrounded by Battlefields
Author: Amber Michelle //![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
myaru
Game: Fire Emblem 10: Radiant Dawn
Characters/Pairing: Sephiran, Zelgius (it's gen and yet not)
Warnings: spoilers?
Words: 1106
Prompt:
Fire Emblem 10, Sephiran/Zelgius, Acta est fabula, plaudite! (The play is over, applaud! Said to have been emperor Augustus' last words)
.............................................................
Black ill-suited his master's person, though it was a thought Zelgius kept to himself when Sephiran left the chamber his goddess had awakened in with the hood pulled down to fold upon his shoulders. His dark hair spilled out in streaks paler than his robe, touched by silver and blue, cooler and silkier when contrasted with the gold accenting his robe. He beckoned as he walked, swept past with a jingle of jewelry - a belt with flat coin ornaments, the chain clasping his cloak, the dangles dancing down the length of his hair, fastened to the back of his circlet - and Zelgius turned to follow with another glance at the shadow beyond the door. Light hid far beyond, like mist-- it reminded him of dreams, made him shiver.
"We are to wait on the fourth floor for further instructions," Sephiran said. The echo of their steps in the spiral of the stairwell nearly drowned the words out. "There are living quarters, and any equipment you need can be teleported from the palace."
Zelgius waited for him to twist and look back, but it didn't happen. Fair enough; stairs were perilous when one did not watch where he walked. The slight hunch to his master's shoulders, however, drew his brows together, made him want to reach and straighten them. "I have what I need. My armor is in the chamber you gave me for its storage, with Alondite."
Sephiran might have nodded; the illumination in the Tower of Guidance was lacking, if one were generous. It lit the steps, the doorways, the frescoes, yet to look a man in the eye he would have to light a torch. Zelgius didn't want to ask, but he wondered: was that representative of the goddess they served, or was it simply a function of the sleeping tower? Perhaps it would brighten and come to life as Ashera regained her strength.
They left the stairs through a door marked with the ancient glyph for 'four,' and walked across a wide, trapezoidal chamber with a ceiling hidden in shadow. It smelled like dust, but nothing puffed or swirled around their feet. His armor felt cool where it contacted his skin, as it often did when he marched at night or stood still in the winter air, but his breath did not puff white when he breathed as he thought it should. The narrow hallway they entered felt even colder and darker. The tiles were diamonds in alternating shades of navy and sky blue. The door Sephiran led him to sounded like heavy wood when his master opened it and pushed, but it looked black outside. The wooden wardrobe, tables, the mirror frame, the oval bed wide enough to accommodate three people-- it was all the same. Zelgius asked what it was, and Sephiran said, ebony wood, from the tropics. At one time the nation ruling those islands amassed great wealth through the sale of such materials.
How long ago?
One thousand seven hundred seventy two years. The capitol was Cyrene, and their last queen was Chloris. Sephiran walked straight to the heavy curtains across the room and pulled them open. The rings screeched. No king ever ruled in that nation. It was quite unusual for its time.
That he remembered these things at all reduced Zelgius to staring - to fish for a reply other than fascinating - which it was, or amazing, which also remained an apt description.
Like the tiles, the panes of the glass doors revealed behind the curtains were diamond-shaped, clear at the center, stained blue and purple at the borders. They must have been locked or protected, yet his master turned the brass handles without hesitation to push them wide open with his arms and stride to the high balustrade, where his hair lifted on a breeze and twisted, twirled to the right and flat against his black cloak. Zelgius unfastened his sword, leaned it against the wall, and followed him.
"Any time, now," Sephiran said. His head remained bowed, his gaze upon the streets beyond the canal. The citizens looked like spots of colored ink from their distance. "You will be safe here. Bask in the light of Ashera's justice."
Rather than hovering behind, Zelgius joined him at the rail and spread his hand over the carved stone. It was carved in the likeness of some sinuous creature - dragons, though not the bloodline you would be familiar with - and tempted his fingertips into exploring the cuts and crevices. "She decided so quickly?"
"There was little doubt."
Zelgius watched the tide of bodies in the nearest marketplace - textiles, judging by the long, double rows of multicolored displaces visible between the watchtowers. The clothing was drab, the customers probably servants to richer individuals, or seamstresses, who were not regarded as much better. Disgusting, he'd heard a courtier mutter once, I can't abide such rough hands.
What an insufferable canary that man was. Tellius would be better without him.
"Having second thoughts?"
He looked at Sephiran, found his master's green eyes fixed upon his face. "No." Zelgius made sure to hold his gaze a moment before looking out again, picking a different quarter to observe - this time the chemist's, and he knew by landmarks, as their displays were inside. "I wondered if you might be." It was two hours past noon. The streets were at their liveliest by daytime standards. "Every time you stop to help a wounded hunter or make your rounds at the orphanage, I wonder if you will change your mind."
His master looked away. The direction of the wind changed and pulled his hair back like a streamer, the billow of his cloak following it. His hands on the balustrade, when Zelgius looked, were bare and unadorned as he kept them when they traveled.
"The empress," he said, imagining the violet glint of her hair in the sun. Visions of her always came with white wings. "She is surrounded by battlefields. Do you not regret-- even that?"
Sephiran's nails bled to pale pink, then the skin around them, pressed hard to the curve of a dragon's head. "I have many regrets," he said, drawing a deep, slow breath. The sun brightened, heating on his skin like a hot desert wind, the sky whitened, the color drained from his master's hair. The light grew so bright it seemed the entire world was erased. "What is one more?"
.
Author: Amber Michelle //
myaruGame: Fire Emblem 10: Radiant Dawn
Characters/Pairing: Sephiran, Zelgius (it's gen and yet not)
Warnings: spoilers?
Words: 1106
Prompt:
Fire Emblem 10, Sephiran/Zelgius, Acta est fabula, plaudite! (The play is over, applaud! Said to have been emperor Augustus' last words)
.............................................................
Black ill-suited his master's person, though it was a thought Zelgius kept to himself when Sephiran left the chamber his goddess had awakened in with the hood pulled down to fold upon his shoulders. His dark hair spilled out in streaks paler than his robe, touched by silver and blue, cooler and silkier when contrasted with the gold accenting his robe. He beckoned as he walked, swept past with a jingle of jewelry - a belt with flat coin ornaments, the chain clasping his cloak, the dangles dancing down the length of his hair, fastened to the back of his circlet - and Zelgius turned to follow with another glance at the shadow beyond the door. Light hid far beyond, like mist-- it reminded him of dreams, made him shiver.
"We are to wait on the fourth floor for further instructions," Sephiran said. The echo of their steps in the spiral of the stairwell nearly drowned the words out. "There are living quarters, and any equipment you need can be teleported from the palace."
Zelgius waited for him to twist and look back, but it didn't happen. Fair enough; stairs were perilous when one did not watch where he walked. The slight hunch to his master's shoulders, however, drew his brows together, made him want to reach and straighten them. "I have what I need. My armor is in the chamber you gave me for its storage, with Alondite."
Sephiran might have nodded; the illumination in the Tower of Guidance was lacking, if one were generous. It lit the steps, the doorways, the frescoes, yet to look a man in the eye he would have to light a torch. Zelgius didn't want to ask, but he wondered: was that representative of the goddess they served, or was it simply a function of the sleeping tower? Perhaps it would brighten and come to life as Ashera regained her strength.
They left the stairs through a door marked with the ancient glyph for 'four,' and walked across a wide, trapezoidal chamber with a ceiling hidden in shadow. It smelled like dust, but nothing puffed or swirled around their feet. His armor felt cool where it contacted his skin, as it often did when he marched at night or stood still in the winter air, but his breath did not puff white when he breathed as he thought it should. The narrow hallway they entered felt even colder and darker. The tiles were diamonds in alternating shades of navy and sky blue. The door Sephiran led him to sounded like heavy wood when his master opened it and pushed, but it looked black outside. The wooden wardrobe, tables, the mirror frame, the oval bed wide enough to accommodate three people-- it was all the same. Zelgius asked what it was, and Sephiran said, ebony wood, from the tropics. At one time the nation ruling those islands amassed great wealth through the sale of such materials.
How long ago?
One thousand seven hundred seventy two years. The capitol was Cyrene, and their last queen was Chloris. Sephiran walked straight to the heavy curtains across the room and pulled them open. The rings screeched. No king ever ruled in that nation. It was quite unusual for its time.
That he remembered these things at all reduced Zelgius to staring - to fish for a reply other than fascinating - which it was, or amazing, which also remained an apt description.
Like the tiles, the panes of the glass doors revealed behind the curtains were diamond-shaped, clear at the center, stained blue and purple at the borders. They must have been locked or protected, yet his master turned the brass handles without hesitation to push them wide open with his arms and stride to the high balustrade, where his hair lifted on a breeze and twisted, twirled to the right and flat against his black cloak. Zelgius unfastened his sword, leaned it against the wall, and followed him.
"Any time, now," Sephiran said. His head remained bowed, his gaze upon the streets beyond the canal. The citizens looked like spots of colored ink from their distance. "You will be safe here. Bask in the light of Ashera's justice."
Rather than hovering behind, Zelgius joined him at the rail and spread his hand over the carved stone. It was carved in the likeness of some sinuous creature - dragons, though not the bloodline you would be familiar with - and tempted his fingertips into exploring the cuts and crevices. "She decided so quickly?"
"There was little doubt."
Zelgius watched the tide of bodies in the nearest marketplace - textiles, judging by the long, double rows of multicolored displaces visible between the watchtowers. The clothing was drab, the customers probably servants to richer individuals, or seamstresses, who were not regarded as much better. Disgusting, he'd heard a courtier mutter once, I can't abide such rough hands.
What an insufferable canary that man was. Tellius would be better without him.
"Having second thoughts?"
He looked at Sephiran, found his master's green eyes fixed upon his face. "No." Zelgius made sure to hold his gaze a moment before looking out again, picking a different quarter to observe - this time the chemist's, and he knew by landmarks, as their displays were inside. "I wondered if you might be." It was two hours past noon. The streets were at their liveliest by daytime standards. "Every time you stop to help a wounded hunter or make your rounds at the orphanage, I wonder if you will change your mind."
His master looked away. The direction of the wind changed and pulled his hair back like a streamer, the billow of his cloak following it. His hands on the balustrade, when Zelgius looked, were bare and unadorned as he kept them when they traveled.
"The empress," he said, imagining the violet glint of her hair in the sun. Visions of her always came with white wings. "She is surrounded by battlefields. Do you not regret-- even that?"
Sephiran's nails bled to pale pink, then the skin around them, pressed hard to the curve of a dragon's head. "I have many regrets," he said, drawing a deep, slow breath. The sun brightened, heating on his skin like a hot desert wind, the sky whitened, the color drained from his master's hair. The light grew so bright it seemed the entire world was erased. "What is one more?"
.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-10-06 03:21 am (UTC)Hee, Zelgius and Sephiran tend to always be in a state of gen-but-not eh?
no subject
Date: 2009-10-06 04:29 am (UTC)Thanks. I actually... it was the only thing that came to mind with the quote, and it seemed too obvious a thing to write, I Guess?