"We finally found something a bit meatier." (Xenoblade Chronicles 3) [Drabbles and Short Stories]

[Ultra Sonic 007]

i would love to see you eventually write the main story (your take on XBC3) that this short story set is the side piece to.

Click to shrink...

Short version: This short story collection is meant to be compliant with the canonical game as presented (for the most part).

Long version (spoilers lie ahead for numerous parts of the game, but y'all should know this by now): Basically, every single short story and ficlet I've written for this collection is meant to be as canon-compliant as possible, and are usually done with the intent of explaining something in the story that was otherwise unexplained, or to showcase events that wouldn't break the plot. I try to avoid 'head-canoning' as much as possible.

For example: why did Consul M choose Ghondor of all people to give the Cloudkeep's Key to?

My answer: M chose Ghondor because she was a Vandham, a descendant of her grandson from many generations past; thus, there is a sentimental and familial connection. (Even if it's 'technically' a headcanon, the statue of House Vandham's founder is observed as having physical similarities to Noah; in like manner, the founder of House Doyle is strongly, if not explicitly, implied to have been the Vandham founder's sister. Hence, it's implied that Houses Doyle and Vandham are of a past Noah and Mio's bloodline.)

Another example: why did Ghondor change her mind regarding 'killing the now' between Li Garte Prison and the ending cutscenes of XC3?

My answer: make up a cutscene that would still portray the themes of the story as presented, while still explaining Ghondor's apparent change of heart.

Another example: why are there apparently two Swords of Origin (the one that N has, and the other held by Noah)?

My answer: N's was the original, forged with the assistance of Melia herself. Lucky Seven was forged in secret many generations later, intended to be a replica of that mighty Blade.

Another example: after a certain point, the idea of 'fast travel' just wouldn't make any sense. So given the time constraints Ouroboros is operating under, how would they make it back to the Pentelas, Fornis, and lower Aetia Regions to complete the quests that only become available as of Chapter 5 and onwards?

My answer: have Triton be their means of fast travel, using his ability as a Moebius to warp places.

And so on and so forth.

Some are a bit cracky (like the 28th installment, which was written solely to explain why the obligatory Nopon named Bana was nowhere to be seen in the game; my answer being that generations of Bana Nopon have operated off of the Bionis's horn, controlling the black market far away from the battlefields of Aionios), but each one could feasibly be inserted into the game and nothing would change.

The only exceptions are the bits with Nia and Melia; for gameplay reasons, their quests are post-game only, as the surprise of them fighting alongside you during the final boss would have been spoiled. However, narratively, these quests had to have taken place before Ouroboros defeated Z. Thus, my changes were as follows:

- For Nia: simply have her accompany Ouroboros after she's woken up, as they travel the world to collect the particular Origin shards needed to upgrade Samon's ship. Naturally, they do quests and events along the way, eventually returning Nia to Agnus Castle before commencing their first invasion of Origin.

- For Melia: instead of instantly teleporting away like she did in the game, she collapses due to ether depletion after her long imprisonment (in an intentional echo to how Shulk and Company found her in the first game). Deprived of any options, Ouroboros decides to retreat aboard a City Levnis (because realistically, Ouroboros wouldn't otherwise be leaving Origin upon entering it; 'fast travel' exists solely for gameplay purposes, because no way they're getting Samon's ship back out of there!) to bring Melia back to Keves Castle. (Origin, naturally, stops attacking, because Z and Moebius are interested in seeing how Melia reacts to the world she's been away from for so long.) From there, they would do Melia's various quests, along with any other final quests left undone; after which, Ouroboros commences the second (and final) assault on Origin, wherein they fight X, Y, and Z sequentially.

As such, the timeline of events would be as follows:

Given what's implied in the game, there's an unknown period of time where — after Aionios is created, and an indeterminate amount of people are awoken outside of Origin — Nia and Melia are operating against Moebius, after which Melia is captured by Z (thus allowing Moebius to manipulate the world according to their own designs, thanks to their control over Origin). It's implied that Nia is actually awake and operating in some fashion (for how long is unknown, but it was at least long enough for the first City to come into being at Hope's Rest before it was destroyed by N) before going to sleep in the Cloudkeep, because she doesn't do so until Consul M exists as an entity (and we know there are at least some prior instances of Mio that existed before M did). This aggregate amount of time between Z's capture of Melia and the beginning of the game is definitely longer than a thousand years, though; because the false Nia, at the end of chapter 5, remarks about she's had 999 souls sent up to her over the past thousand years by the off-seers. However, we know from details in Noah's Side Story and Ashera's Ascension Quest that the Homecoming event prior to the Off-Seer Ceremony was a simple execution, so the existence of the false queens stems back even further.

It goes without saying that a lot of the installments released have flashbacks which cover events that occurred during this nebulous period prior to the main plot.

Chapters 1 through 5 more or less occur as normal, with the exception being that Ouroboros can't really leave Cadensia Region due to the time limit Mio has with her impending Homecoming; as such, any side quests and Ascension Quests in prior regions that only become available as of Chapter 5 are left untouched. Certain installments occur in this period without much in the way of interrupting the plot, since they occur in the gaps between quests and plot events.

After Chapter 6 begins, some quests local to Agnus Castle and Cadensia are completed prior to Ouroboros heading to Colony Omega, where they free Miyabi, Mwamba, Hackt, Cammuravi, and the other soldiers resurrected by Moebius Y. Since they accompany Cammuravi back to the City (wherein smol!Ethel wakes up), the reality of having so many calls for assistance weighs on them; as such, the events of the 21st installment occur, where Triton is chosen as the means by which Ouroboros can fast travel. They complete lots of side quests over a few weeks before returning to Colony Omega...wherein, before heading to the Cloudkeep, they get ambushed by Segiri. Cue more quests (including the final scene from the 27th installment, wherein I used the four 'Unique Monster' Agnian assassins that show up where Colony 15's Ferronis is as an actual bit of a drama bait for Triton, since it's implied those four killed two of Triton's crew) before they finally get to the Cloudkeep, where the ending of Chapter 6 proceed as normal.

With the beginning of Chapter 7, and the realization that Ouroboros needs to locate specific Origin shards to complete the ship upgrades they need to breach the Ocean Vortex, Nia accompanies them on their 'world tour' instead of hanging back at the Cloudkeep. Numerous quests occur during this timeframe (like Ghondor's Ascension Quest, Sena's Side Story, and some of the other quests that only become available as of chapter 7), along with some events I've conjured up in the interim (like the most recent installment). Ouroboros invades Origin, rescues Melia, completes the remainder of the quests (complete with other events I've made up, like the final scene of the 9th installment, where Eunie gifts Taion a kit to clean his glasses with), then finally invades Origin a second time to complete the main story.

And voila!

Hope this explained things.

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

Author's Note: I'm listing this under "Apocrypha" because I don't even consider it canonical that Blackblaze Dirk is actually the son of Rex and Mythra.

However, I've seen this idea floating around various corners of the Internet...so I wanted to take a stab at it. No pun intended.

xxxx

When the matter of names came up, Nia and Pyra had been relatively quick to come up with names for their daughters.

Nia's name had been Mio. Any jokes regarding 'feline onomatopoeia' had been swiftly silenced by defensive hissing. (Which only added to the joke.)

Pyra, after some thought, had chosen Glimmer: a name that spoke to the fire and the light that had composed both halves of those reborn from Pneuma.

Mythra, on the other hand...had been conflicted.

Her initial choices had been Addam, Milton, or even Mikhail: tributes to her friends and comrades long gone. However...further discussion and introspection had soured her on the idea.

("A name...is the first thing that belongs to someone; that's theirs." Mythra, resting a hand upon her swollen abdomen, gazed outside the window. Far in the distance, the ruin of the World Tree loomed large: a memorial of the past's hubris. "Logos...his identity was first forged the moment he was named Malos. If my kid was named after them...is that even fair to him? Am I just setting him up to try and be someone he's not? Or am I giving him an unnecessary burden?")

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your perspective), a 'stress video game session' (Tora's words, not hers) with Poppi had resulted in her playing through an old Nopon game called Sauros's Lair. She had taken a shine to the protagonist. ("I mean, who doesn't want to be daring?")

Thus did she decide on the name of Dirk. (Which was apparently short for 'Diederik' from a long dead language, at least according to a certain Nopon historian.)

Rex was honestly too floored from the idea of being the father of three kids to contest their choice of names; he was happier than a tipsy Tirkin.

(Had they thought to shop names around, Morag might have stopped them short by letting them know a 'dirk' was also a long unused type of Ardainian knife.)

xxxx

/Time: An Indeterminate Period Prior to the Plot of Future Redeemed/

Atop the Aurora Shelf, a pitched battle was ongoing between Colony 2 and Colony Epsilon; the Gran Dell ruins were the site of a furious melee between Keves and Agnus, as soldier fought soldier to the last.

The Kevesi soldiers, however, had collapsed the Agnian flanks; if nothing changed, it would end up being a total rout by Colony 2.

"Blast it all, where are our reinforcements?!" snarled an Agnian private, ducking behind an old stone wall. "These Kevesi mudders...ambushing us while our forces are out on expedition!"

"We have to hold on as long as possible," hissed his comrade, peeking out around a corner to fire an ether rifle. The entire ruins around them seemed to shake from the thunderous footsteps of Kevesi Levnises. "Spark...!"

At that moment, a shower of glowing spears erupted from the sky, raining upon the Kevesi position; when they landed, they burst into golden flames, shining brightly.

To the Agnians, it meant only one thing. "It's Brightfire Dirk! They made it!"

The heroic figure landing daringly amidst the ranks of the enemy, arms held out wide; upon both wrists were thick gauntlets, each sporting a glowing spear of brilliant ether. "You lot thought you could take us by surprise, hmm?" Grinning daringly, he ducked underneath the swings of enemy Blades, lancing through his opponents. "Come on, men! Don't be losers; show these Kevesi cowards what you're made of!"

Like a living wellspring of vigor, Dirk rallied the Agnians; as a combined force, they surged against their Kevesi opponents.

(It would be a case of mutual destruction.)

The battle alas, inevitably concluded. Dirk, chest perforated by shots from an ether rifle, nonetheless took down his killer with a horizontal swipe of his wrist-spear Blade; off went the Kevesi's head — a brown-haired girl with relatively long head wings, and blue eyes wide with surprised shock — and down went her headless body.

Dirk grinned, feeling a sort of grim satisfaction at a job well done, even if it had cost him his life. "Hah...got ya." Then he too collapsed, his body solidifying into a husk.

Red motes lazily danced over the battlefield: a memorial of utter carnage.

xxxx

There had been a period where Dirk had insisted he should be called 'Diederik', because that was a name fit for big boys.

However, he eventually came to accept Dirk just by its lonesome.

As time drew closer towards the Intersection, he trained ever more with Dad and Mother; whatever powers he had inherited as their son, he intended to master.

"Pace yourself, kiddo," Dad would say, even while resting Mother's sword on his shoulder. "You're not gonna do anything by exhaustin' yourself."

"Rex is right," Mother said, her long blonde hair waving in the breeze. "What's going to happen isn't something that can be sliced or blasted...even though I'd prefer that..."

Dirk sighed, looking down at his unique weapon: golden spears, burning as brightly as Mother's own ether. "But I want to be strong...so I can protect my sisters, and all of you! I don't wanna be a loser who can't protect no one!"

"Hey now, none of the 'loser' talk around us," said Dad, running a callused hand through his short blonde hair. "Truth be told...I know I've been keeping a brave face around the girls, but I worry that all won't go well, you know?"

("You call that a brave face?" joked Mythra under her breath, even as she watched father and son speak, man to man.)

"We don't know what'll be waiting for us afterwards; hopefully we'll just blink and it'll all be back to normal. But if not...at least I know I can trust ya to watch out for your sisters, to fight whatever threat will come for 'em." Grinning in a boyish way that made him seem so much younger, Dad added, "You've made me proud, Dirk. And I know you'll keep at it."

Dirk nodded, eager to prove his parents right. No matter what comes against us...no matter what threatens our family...I'll destroy it! It was the sort of naive thought process of one who, despite striving to be an ideal man, was still but a child, and thought as a child.

(Woe be to him.)

"...you know, you never show this protective side to your sisters," said Mother, a sly grin coming to her face. "Maybe they'd complain less if you acted like this instead of picking on them all the time?"

Dirk looked horrified. "Y-You can't do that! And besides, Mum finds it funny!"

"That's 'cause you remind Nia of herself," said Dad with the shake of his head. "Titan's Foot, how is Mio the one who avoided becoming tsundere...?"

"What's a tsundere?"

"Never you mind that," chorused Dad and Mother.

xxxx

/Time: An Indeterminate Period After the Plot of Future Redeemed, but Prior to the Main Plot/

Colony Zeta had fallen on hard times; after fending off one Kevesi Colony after another, they had nestled upon a pockmarked mountain atop the Ardainian Peaks. (So much of its humanoid form had been devoured by the Annihilation Events; before long, naught would remain...)

"Looks like they're preparing for their last charge," growled Commander Foots, face haggard from exhaustion. Even his distinctive crystalline horns were lackluster. "Our Ferronis can barely float...and we've run low on ether. No hope by this point of getting backup supplies from the Castle..."

"Then we'll just have to make do," murmured Dirk, tiredly putting the finishing touches on his new weapons. When Foots arched an eyebrow, Dirk elaborated, "Gotta save what ether I have left for keeping my sorry arse going. And besides...it'll be poetic, turning the blades of their own Levnises against them."

"...I guess there's little left to do but burn brightly," said Foots, acknowledging that their end was near. Gazing across the hot and dusty slopes, the Commander grimaced at the sight of black dots approaching like ants. "Take down as many as you can."

Dirk grinned, putting as much moxie and confidence into it as he could. "Nothing sweeter than for one's life to be cut short, eh?" He left it at that, uncaring for whether he came across as bitter or not. With a fierce shout, he brandished his gauntlets — little more than crude instruments of metal, with Kevesi blades soldered onto the end to form wicked talons — and charged down the mountainside. "HERE I COME, YOU MUDDERS!"

He would be brought down after killing twenty more; his claws had instinctively sought out their necks, which had the least protection. As such, his corpse was joined by the heads of many.

The bright flames of his ether were marred by the blood of his enemies: a blackened blaze.

xxxx

Dirk, when he first emerged from a cradle, had one overarching instinct: one not born from the subtle indoctrination of the cradle's systems.
It was the instinct to destroy.

(Bereft of context — severed from the purpose of protecting specific individuals — it was an inherently corrosive character trait.)

It was put to good use against Keves, and so his Agnian comrades celebrated his success. To destroy his enemies, to be a hero in the eyes of his allied soldiers...was a good thing.

Over and over, it went.

Yet, each time he emerged from the cradle...his features seemed a bit paler; his face a bit more gaunt; his blond hair losing its vibrancy.

The more he destroyed for the sake of destroying, the less the accolades of his comrades seemed to matter.

The act, in and of itself, became all that mattered.

For some reason, he went out of his way...to kill his enemies by way of beheading. There was a strange joy to it.

(Once the mind descends to that particular point...it'll latch onto any rationale it can use to justify its continued existence...no matter how depraved.)

xxxx

/Time: An Indeterminate Period Prior to the Main Plot/

Blackblaze Dirk had died as he had lived: by beheading.

He had awoken in a theater, clad in only the trousers of his prisoner's garb; before him was the one called Z.

In all fairness, it had taken little for the ruler of the world to convince him: a chance to live forever, to have as much as he wanted?

It had been easy.

And then...upon becoming Moebius...

(So many lives, forgotten as easily as dreams: of dying, of being slaughtered; of slaughtering, and making others die.)

(Lives where, early on...he had burned brightly, serving as a beacon of hope for his comrades.)

(Then, little by little, his flames had lost their glow: darkened by the life essence of all those he had slain.)

(His own Blade — the Brightfire Spears — had been used less and less, in favor of clawed gauntlets of his own making. The Spears burned too brightly, pierced too easily, killed too quickly. His metal talons...were viciously sharp, yet still tangible enough for him to feel the parting of flesh and bone.)

(As he was now...it was a transcendent feeling, akin to rapturous ecstasy.)

...he had exhaled with a sound akin to satisfaction. "Ah..."

"You seem quite pleased with yourself."

It was a voice that he had not heard before, or at least could not recall; glancing up into the face of Keves's Golden Consul, Dirk could only grin. "Ah; I've heard of you. Can't say I've ever had the pleasure of meeting you in person."

(N's eyes were fixated upon his bare chest, where a green crystal rested; the shape was oh so very familiar.)

"So...the most recent fissure has brought the flow to this point. Fate is a very interesting creature," N coolly said.

Dirk couldn't help but roll his eyes at the man's dramatic tone. "Ah, the tough and mysterious type, eh?" With a thought, he manifested the purple and crimson garb of Moebius; green was devoured by violet, never to be seen on Aionios again. "I don't know about you...but fate's been a wild ride, so far," said Moebius D with a smug expression.

He couldn't wait to see where it would take him next.

xxxx

You all know by now the fate of Consul D.

But what of the man who emerged on the other side of Origin: standing upon a world that had seamlessly — miraculously? — joined with its missing half?

Well...even if the 'Endless Now' — a perpetual instant, stretched out interminably — had elapsed in the blink of an eye...it still left scars.

xxxx

Dirk began having nightmares, shortly after the worlds had combined. People had called it "the Rejoining".

It was not uncommon, he had been told; lots of children, as they matured, began recalling trace elements of their many lives on Aionios. Therapy was a common prescription for many, and there was no shame to be had.

Yet...he could not help but notice how his sisters did not struggle as much. They didn't speak of their nightmares; in fact, they seemed downright untroubled, even curious about their forgotten lives in that strange world that never was. Envy and jealousy warred within him, followed by greater shame for feeling that way at all. Thoughts of cutting them down — let their heads roll, see if they're still curious then! — were accompanied by feelings of horror; what had happened to him? What had he done, in that other world, to cause such wretched feelings to spring from within?

So he kept silent. He kept his peace.

(Mum would occasionally look at him, a solemn yet understanding look in her eyes. An open invitation; given her regal responsibilities, there was little time for anything more forward. Yet he knew, somehow, that she could see what he didn't want to be unveiled. How did she know? Pride, mixed with a heady dose of rebellious stubbornness, kept him from taking that invite.)

Until, nearly three years after the Rejoining — when diplomatic relations between Agnus and Keves had been solidified, and all sorts of tests had been done behind the scenes to ensure no sort of Annihilation Event was going to occur because of people intermingling — his sister Mio reunited with a young man named Noah.

It was during a visit to their abode; although Mum was busy doing 'Queeny stuff', Dad was still there, as was Mom and Mother. Glimmer was present as well, unspeakably curious about the young man that had been in Mio's dreams. Noah, meanwhile, had arrived in the company of a man named Dunban, who was serving as his escort. ("A favor for his parents," he had said with a smile.) Noah and Mio were looking at each other as though nothing else in the world mattered.

And that's when something just clicked.
Dirk knew it to be so, because their eyes impulsively looked in his direction, and they — without meaning to, without helping it — flinched.

(Why was Mio looking at him like that? Why was she looking at him with fear, as though he were an enemy?)

(Why was this two-bit stranger so wary? What did this loser — not good enough for Mio, clearly (because his sisters deserved the world) — know about anything?!)

"What's with that look?" snarled Dirk, with a cruel tone that drew everyone's eyes. "You think you're some kind of hotshot, eh? Well I know what you really are: nothing but a no-good, dead-weight loser!" Before he realized it, his hands had grabbed at Noah's collar. "And losers don't deserve ANYTHING-!"

The world went topsy-turvy, followed by his back hitting the wall. His cheek was sore, such that he was already directing ether to the growing bruise; however, that pain meant nothing in comparison to the realization that Mio had been the one who had punched him. (Yet why shouldn't she have? He had been...one step away...from...)

Mio's expression was a mix between protective determination and confused bewilderment; her ears impulsively flattened with sadness.

(His sister's ears had always been a reliable indicator of her mood; this was his fault. His fault.)

He didn't even dare to look at the adults, to see the shame and disappointment that was undeniably there.

And so Dirk ran.

xx

Dunban watched the young man go, eyes narrowed with suspicion. His hand rested upon the hilt of his sword; not holding it or gripping it (because he was a guest; drawing a weapon unless absolutely necessary would be rude), but it was sign enough that he was suitably perturbed by what had just occurred. "What was that all about?" he asked.

Lady Mythra had already departed, running up the stairs after the young man. Lady Pyra and Sir Rex were understandably bewildered by the sudden turn of events. Lady Glimmer was quietly tending to Lady Mio's hand, visibly shocked by how sister and brother had come to blows. Noah, meanwhile...was quietly introspective, more so than usual. Already, in mere minutes, his mien had become far more mature and serene.

(Yet Noah and Mio had looked at Dirk as though he had been an enemy. It had to have been a trace memory from Aionios.)

"...I think we need to call Mum," said Mio, speaking with a composure that had not been present when they had arrived. "She...she needs to be here for this."

xxxx

Author's Note: I think this may have another part or two.

'Dirk as the son of Mythra' only makes sense to me if it's accompanied with some level of PTSD, or by some other exploration of the dehumanizing effects of war.

 

[JimmyWolk]

'Dirk as the son of Mythra' only makes sense to me if it's accompanied with some level of PTSD, or by some other exploration of the dehumanizing effects of war.

Click to shrink...

This pretty much and all the more shame that we didn't get any confirmed Mythra kid and no really good candidates. It could be an interesting idea to have one of the previous cast's children go to the dark side, but not having that drama being sufficiently fleshed out would just be an utter waste.
Nice to see it here then, would indeed not mind more (also of post "Rejoining" in general )

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

Author's Note: This little non-canonical idea is quickly blossoming into something bigger in my mind, because it gives me an avenue to explore topics I normally wouldn't be able to investigate within my larger XC3 ficlet collection.

Just what I needed...more brainrot...

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bFeUCVsNAYQ

Untold numbers of Kevesi and Agnian soldiers had lived and died on repeat. Even those who had ostensibly escaped the cycle through Homecoming had nonetheless been retained within Origin.

Theoretically, all those who had lived in Moebius's cycle — bound by the Flame Clocks, fighting to live and living to fight — had been guilty of the sins and vices common to war between nations; more so, when the 'war' had been more of a never-ending meat-grinder.

Yet there were those who differed in terms of numbers, for not all soldiers had been equal in terms of combat ability.

More to the point, the world itself had been literally and metaphorically engineered to incentivize the shedding of blood.

Thus, it was inevitable that some would glory in it; some far more than others. Yet the promise of rebirth, and starting over with a blank slate...that ensured stable, unending continuity.

Yet the question must be asked: for those who grew to relish their dreadful work in their short life...was it because they were predisposed to such viciousness already? Or was it because they were simply more susceptible to the vices common to armed conflict? Bereft of the choice and opportunity to choose something other than war, had they been doomed from the start?

Furthermore, as far as Dirk — he who had borne the titles of Brightfire, Blackblaze, and finally Moebius D — was concerned...whether it be by accident or by purpose, more and more darkness was retained as he was reborn over time: bit by bit, until his inner light had been smothered.

At what point is the world at fault? Or was he himself still blameworthy?

xxxx

Dirk sat upon his bed, arms wrapped around his knees. It was a childish action, and one that accomplished nothing other than to make him feel better; however, he didn't dare turn the lights on.

It would allow him to see old trophies, earned from competitions in youthful martial arts; posters of his favorite members from the Garfont Mercenaries; toy weapons, born from years of play fighting with acquaintances and friends (and with his siblings and parents most of all); a few old plushies in the form of a white tiger (which he swore he had outgrown. Honest). Mostly, it would allow him to see his hands.

(Hands which had cut through bodies...and necks...)

(You had gotten really damned good at it.)

Dirk hissed, trying to banish the thought from his mind. That's not me. It can't be me. I'm not that person! (...right?)

Without warning, there was frantic knocking on his door. "Dirk?" It was the voice of Mother, muffled by the door.

The boy — a mere teenager, thirteen years of age — didn't answer. He didn't want to look at his ma's face. (Didn't want to see a look of judgment, or pity, or regret...)

"...Diederik, I know you're in there. I can sense your ether."

"Go away," he petulantly retorted.

Mythra impulsively stormed through the door, her Core Crystal and ether lines glowing in the dark. "Don't take that tone with me, young man!"

Dirk jolted from her sudden entrance.

The glowing outlines of Mythra's form evoked sudden realization, even embarrassment. With a flustered huff, Mythra walked back outside, closing his bedroom door behind her. "...rewind that." With forced politeness, Mother knocked on the door. "Son. I'm coming in, okay?"

This time, Dirk didn't protest; Mythra, fortunately, didn't turn on the lights. Rather, she used her inherent senses to navigate to his bed, where she sat down besides him. The gem in her distinctive tiara gleamed in synchronicity with her Core Crystal, providing a frame of reference for where her face would be.

Mother and child sat in silence for a time; one unwilling (one wishing) for the other to depart...while the other was uncertain (doubtful, concerned...even a bit frightened?) as to what could be said to break the ice.

(The sensation of being a stranger in his own home had never been so stark.)

xxxx

Downstairs, Pyra — through the connection she intrinsically shared with Mythra, even though they had long ceased to be part of the same being — could sense her sister's growing confusion and internal frustration.

(Of the three wives, Mythra had always been the one most uncertain about motherhood; yet, Dirk's similar powerset and Nia-like rambunctiousness had made raising him...remarkably easy. There had been a simplicity with Dirk that had not been present with Glimmer and Mio, even separate from the differences between boys and girls.)

(But ever since the Rejoining...something had changed.)

That Dirk had managed to somehow hide such a vicious side to him was heart-wrenching, in a way that only a mother could feel. (And even if Pyra had not physically carried Dirk within her womb, he and Mio were as much her children as Glimmer was.)

Surprisingly, the ones with the most pertinent knowledge of what had changed...were apparently two young(?) teenagers.

Hence why they had gathered back at the kitchen table, with Noah and Mio on one side; Rex sat at the head of the table, with Pyra and Glimmer directly opposite Noah and Mio. Dunban, meanwhile, sat opposite Rex at the foot, with Noah sitting to his left. "So...you seem to have regained some memories of that other world," said the visiting swordsman with a measured tone.

"...that's putting it somewhat mildly," remarked Noah, speaking with the cadence of an adult. Compared with his boyish tone, it was rather unsettling. "There was...a lot that happened, in Aionios."

"Which is why we should really wait for Queen Nia...I mean, Mum," added Mio, as if correcting herself.

"Why are you calling Mum by her title?" asked Glimmer with a confused tilt of her head.

Pyra couldn't help but pity the wariness in Noah and Mio's faces; how else was one expected to fully integrate newfound memories after just recovering them? There was no way the process had been completely cohesive, despite how quickly it had seemingly occurred. "You seem used to referring to Nia that way...an artifact of your time in Aionios?" she asked, as a leading question.

Noah and Mio both nodded. (Pyra couldn't help but notice that his left hand was holding her right hand under the table; it was endearingly cute, in spite of the circumstances.) "Parenthood wasn't exactly something that applied to the soldiers of Keves and Agnus," admitted the black-haired boy.

Pyra watched Dunban's analytic gaze before briefly glancing towards her husband; Rex's eyes were focused solely on the Kevesi swordsman, as if gauging a prospective enemy. Even if Dirk's antagonism had been unexpected, Rex didn't seem too keen on the thought of a guest threatening his children in the slightest. Endeavoring to keep tensions low, she asked, "Noah...Mio, dear...why did you look at Dirk the way you did?"

"Yeah," chimed Glimmer. "I know he can be annoying, but..." She trailed off, suddenly seeming uncertain. "...but then when he talked back...it's like he wasn't my brother anymore."

Dunban calmly observed, "It seems the young man was not the most pleasant individual on Aionios. It reminds me of a similar situation with the second daughter of two of my friends."

Noah turned towards him, eyes widening with sudden realization; he was doubtless beginning to draw correlations and make connections between memories of Aionios with memories of this life. "Wait...you wouldn't mean your student Ashera?"

"You're quite right," said Dunban with a nod, turning towards the native Alrestians to clarify. "Ashera is the second child of Reyn and Sharla, two old comrades of mine. After the Rejoining...she slowly lost interest in the healing arts that her mother specializes in, and instead began pestering her father and older sister, Panacea, regarding combat training. They eventually asked me for help with channelling her newfound aggression in more...productive ways." Sighing at how such a mild-mannered girl had slowly become more and more gung-ho, he added, "I appreciate how capable she is with regards to my techniques, but not if it means she becomes someone else entirely."

"That sounds like her," murmured Mio.

"So you actually knew Ashera, in that other world?" asked Dunban with surprise. In response to their nod, he added, "You don't seem surprised by how I described her."

Noah grimaced, looking down at the table with a certain hesitance. "Ashera was our comrade and ally, it was true...but as far as her demeanor went, she was focused on combat to the point of fighting her own allies for fun. The greater the risk to her life, the more excited she would become by the prospect."

"How awful," said Pyra.

"...I see." Dunban sighed, looking meaningfully towards Rex. "Alas, I missed out on all of the 'fun' of that world. Do your experiences correlate with theirs?"

Rex crossed his arms, sighing heavily; he briefly glanced at Glimmer before answering, "There were a lot of lives that got recycled by Keves and Agnus, but it's not like they kept to a particular schedule as to who they would revive and when with those blasted cradles. Before I ended up serving as the world's avatar alongside Shulk and A, I never ran into Dirk, nor Mio. And the time where I met Glimmer, well...it was hard not to compare and contrast that smart-mouthed spitfire with my little baby girl."

Glimmer narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "...wait. Dad, what's that supposed to mean-?"

"As for Lady Pyra?" interrupted Dunban. "I know that you had some measure of involvement with Origin's development."

Pyra grimaced, thinking back to how often she and Mythra had been consulted on the Origin Project; many had been the days and nights, spent communicating across dimensions with Shulk and his fellows...divining the ways and means by which they could use Ontos's Core Crystal to serve as the foundation for the whole system. (On the one hand, they could only regret what came of it...but on the other, what could they have done? Anything lesser than Ontos would not have been powerful enough to bridge the divide that Origin had needed to complete its function. Perhaps, if they had still been Pneuma...but wishing for a 'what if' would not change the present.) "Unfortunately...there's not much that either I or Mythra would be able to tell you about historical events on Aionios. Our wills were focused...elsewhere." Namely, ensuring that the power of Ouroboros had been sufficiently propagated through their chosen medium...but that was another story altogether. "I wouldn't be able to tell you anything more."

Dunban nodded grimly. "...all the more reason for Noah and Mio to be clear about what exactly they saw Dirk do." When Rex gave a permissive grunt, he turned back towards the pair. "We must know what your experiences of Dirk were like. Context is necessary if we're to help the young lad."

Because he obviously needs help, thought Pyra, watching as Noah and Mio communicated without saying a single word.

Finally, Mio spoke up. "As far as my memories go...I only have our 'last' life to go by, for the most part. But we first encountered Dirk...as Moebius, transformed. He...killed...two of our comrades in front of our eyes, and delivered a fatal blow to a man named Guernica Vandham. And that...was just the beginning."

Pyra inwardly quailed at the implications. Rex had the sort of scowl that said 'I should have been there', crossed with 'How could that have happened?', with a side order of 'Vandham??'

Fortunately, before they could go any further, a familiar figure walked inside, alongside a white tiger with inquisitive blue eyes. Nia, wearing a cream-colored shawl over her body, huffed with annoyance. "Bloody advisors; can't take a hint that a family emergency is a family emergency..." Looking over towards Rex, the Queen of Agnus said, "Don't know what I'd do without Azami."

Rex shrugged. "She prefers working as your proverbial lookout than working with the guys at Garfont...did anyone get in your way?"

Nia shook her head. "Her eye's still as sharp as ever. Could do without her threatening to snipe random bystanders every five minutes, even if she's joking."

The Master Driver sighed, rubbing at his hair. "I'll make sure to talk to her."

"...my Lady, I believe I'm needed elsewhere," said the white tiger; ever since walking inside, his eyes had been fixed upon the stairs leading to the upper floors of their home.

Nia, doubtless sensing the ambient ether in the air, simply nodded. "Go on, Dromarch. Tell Mythra...that she needs to be here for this."

Dromach nodded, briefly acknowledging everyone else's presence. "Please forgive my rudeness." He bowed his head slightly before ambling up the stairs.

"He's quite the polite fellow," observed Dunban.

"That's Dromarch for you," said Pyra, watching intently as Nia moved to to the other side of the table, taking the empty seat between Mio and Rex; the Queen briefly ran her fingers along Rex's shoulder before turning towards Noah and Mio. The latter two shared an expression with Nia — of knowing, and understanding — that was impossible to ignore. "Nia...you know who Dirk used to be in Aionios, don't you?"

Nia sighed, an expression of regret and frustration flashing across her face. "Yes. Kind of hard not to know when I had Poppi passively transmitting information to me, day in and day out...also hard to ignore it when he lodges one of those spears through yer chest."

"He did what?!" exclaimed Glimmer, impulsively rising to her feet.

"I got better," said Nia, waving off her concern. "That ain't the point. We're here to share the knowledge about what we remember...so we can find a way to move forward."

"...this is gonna be a long night," grumbled Rex, kneading a hand against his temples.

On that, Pyra was in complete agreement.

xxxx

The silence had eventually become too suffocating for Mother to withstand. "Dirk..." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mythra looking at him; he could only imagine what her expression was like. "...you know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Her tone was full of concern and sympathy. "I mean, I know I'm not an expert in teenage boys, but I know a thing or three."

"That's what Dad says," he tiredly replied.

"Well, I mean he does, but you know what I mean."

(No, I don't know what you mean, you blonde bimbo. Why don't you spell it out for the audience, so we can follow along?)

(Cruel words, meant to get under her skin.)

"...if I didn't know that wasn't you, I'd smack you," dryly remarked Mythra.

...and apparently, he had said those words out loud. A fresh spike of agony pierced him through, as he buried his face into his hands. "Ma...what's happening to me...?"

A new voice intruded upon the darkness, albeit a welcome one. "I believe that is what everyone is discussing downstairs." Dromarch slowly entered the room; he could see the large tiger's silhouette shift into a dignified pose as he sat on his haunches. "Lady Mythra, Lady Nia requests your presence. I will remain with the young lord."

Mythra looked conflicted, so Dirk answered for her. "Go on, Mother. I'll be fine with old 'March." (That it would keep her away from his wicked slips of the tongue was an added bonus.)

"...if you need us, just shout. We'll be up in a flash." Mother reached over, pecking him on the temple with a tender kiss; she then slowly walked away, affectionately rubbing Dromarch on the head before leaving.

At last, it was only Dirk and Dromarch, sitting in the dark.

"Do you mind if I get onto the bed, my lord?" asked the white tiger.

"...I'm too big for that, you know," muttered Dirk, even as he impulsively shifted to the side.

"That may be so, but even Lady Nia lied upon me as an adult." Dromarch took the invitation, hopping upon the raised bed; Dromarch crossed his paws, resting his large form upon the majority of the mattress. "I believe the last time I did this was a few years ago, during a horrible storm?"

(It had been shortly after the Rejoining...but before the first of the nightmares had started.) "I think so."

"It seems there is quite a storm raging within you, my lord. If you don't mind my saying so."

Dromarch didn't even know the half of it. "I...I don't know what's wrong with me, Dromarch."

"Trust in your father and mothers to come to a solution. After all, they love you; focus on getting a good night's rest, and leave such worries for tomorrow."

(But that was the big question, wasn't it? They loved Dirk, the son of Rex and Mythra.)

(You don't even know if you're that same little tyke anymore, do you?)

xxxx

Dromarch had cuddled with all three of Rex's children as they had grown up.

However, he had long preferred Dirk to Mio and Glimmer, simply for the fact that the boy's frame had been less soft than that of his sisters. It was a novel experience for the white tiger, who had long been used to females cuddling up to him in his many years of service to Lady Nia.
Something about being a large and polite cat, alas.

Even so, as Dirk had grown, he had obliged the young lord's desires, and ceased playing the part of an oversized sleep aid; it was one of the features of adolescence, to learn how to stand on one's own feet.

However, he would still serve at a moment's notice, if the need was there. And now...Dirk desperately needed comfort.

And so — as their family discussed heavy matters downstairs among themselves and with Dunban — Dromarch let Dirk cling to his back, as one desperate for relief.

(Little did Dromarch know, that Dirk could not recall any bloody memories involving the white tiger; no wretched time, where he had clung to anyone's back for comfort. In that, there was distance, between the Dirk who lived, and the Dirk of his darkest dreams.)

(For the first time in a long while, Dirk slept without a single nightmare. If only it could always be so easy...)

xxxx

Author's Notes: I did not know when starting this that I would write a scene involving teenage Dirk utilizing Dromarch as an emotional support animal.

But you know Dromarch would totally be the emotional support animal of the family.

As for why I made Ashera a sibling of Panacea?

Simple: why not?

 

[JimmyWolk]

Well, no wonder he snapped. He didn't have his security blanket tiger.

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

Well, no wonder he snapped. He didn't have his security blanket tiger.

Click to shrink...

I mean, if you had to go without Dromarch, wouldn't you eventually go crazy?

/Dromarch deserved better
//than to be just a single head statue above Nia's door in the Cloudkeep

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

There should have been separation; that would have been ideal.

A nice, clean dividing line...between Dirk (son of Mythra, son of Rex; child of the Aegis and the Master Driver) and D (a Consul; a Moebius; a wretched and sadistic serial killer).

Yet...even in the midst of a dreamless sleep, there were echoes.

("Bright Edge!" exclaimed Dirk, his Brightfire Spears creating a globe of bright ether that burst into a wave of smaller spears.)

("Dread Edge," snarled D, his Blackblaze Spears forming a miasmic sphere of blackened malice, bursting into sharp spikes that impaled without mercy.)

("Glowing Rush!" yelled Dirk, lashing out with his bright lances in a fisticuff combination, following up with a powerful sidekick.)

("Grim Rush." D punched multiple times downward, before kicking upward viciously against his enemy's chin.)

("Burning Arch!" Dirk dashed forward, creating a path of glowing fire along the ground in his wake.)

("Chaos Arch," D growled, slashing out with his spears as he charged through his opponents, knocking them aside.)

("Unstoppable Spear!" Dirk dramatically aimed with his arms, firing twin spears that burned with an almost heavenly fire.)

("Unstoppable Spear." D condescendingly took aim with one arm, launching a spear that seared the ground with a dark, almost sickly fire.)

(In the prior instances, it was either Dad or Mother who took the brunt of Dirk's attacks, using their superior power to parry or snuff out his blows. Yet there was undeniable pride on their faces, as they trained him to master his powers.)

(In every other one...D strode among countless battlefields against faceless enemies, who were little more than fodder to be cut down.)

Dirk. D.

Where did one end, and the other begin?

"You really want to know?" said a cocky voice from nowhere and everywhere. "What would you find more upsetting? The thought that there's a definite point where you stop, and I take over? Or...maybe you'd be more terrified by the idea there is no cutoff...that I am you, and you are me? That, in truth...there is no difference?"

Everything began to fade away, overwhelmed by a spring shower...

"Hah! Coward." The voice nonetheless continued to follow him. "What a loser."

xxxx

Dirk opened his eyes with a start, briefly wondering where he was. White fur. Stripes. The scent of cold rain...Dromarch. An aborted nightmare, chased away by familiarity. Right. I'm in my room. Slowly, he sat up; in the corner of his vision, he saw Dromarch's ears briefly twitch (the fluffy lunk was already awake, most likely); meanwhile, at the foot of his bed, a familiar head of blonde hair could be seen. "Mother," he whispered; the woman had fallen asleep on the floor, doubtless having kept a vigil in the waning hours of night.

(Was she defenseless? Was she on alert for possible sneak attacks?)

(Curious that you think that way; is life a constant battlefield, now? Better start acting like it.)

Dirk resisted the urge to hiss, pressing his palms against his eyes. Focus. Focus. The pressure provided a sense of constraint. I'm me. I'm the son of Rex and Mythra. Everyone's always known me as one of the children of the Aegis and the Master Driver. I can't let 'em down. I can't. I won't. Tiredly, he reached over towards his mother's head. "Hey. You're gonna mess up your hair, sitting like that."

"....mrghble..." sleepily grumbled Mythra.

"...well, if it's not that big of a deal, I guess you won't mind then," he said with a cheeky grin, preparing to mess up her hair with a noogie.

"You'd better not," growled Mother, hackles immediately rising. Her golden eyes narrowed with righteous maternal anger.

"My hands are clean," he remarked, holding his hands up in a mock surrender.

Mythra's glare softened, replaced by a relieved smile. "You've got your father's grin, you know? Don't know if I've ever told you that before."

"Eh, lots of people tell me I've got my dad's face." Mythra's hair and Core Crystal were part of his inherited traits; the red eyes had always been an outlier given the golden eyes of both of his parents. (Dad had always joked that his eyes were a memento of whoever his parents had been, since he otherwise had no recollection of what his mother and father had looked like.)

(Everyone had always loved him so much that he had never really questioned it; the Core Crystal in his chest had been proof enough, besides.)

(Now you can't help but notice all of the things that could make you different.)

"Well, I wanted to tell you anyway." She reached over, quietly embracing him from the side. "You're still my boy."

Dirk normally would have pushed away by now; that impulse warred with the temptation to simply enjoy the moment. Mother says I'm hers. I look like Dad. I'm me. I'm still me. "Yeah, I know. Don't have to rub it in." Yawning widely, he then asked, "So...what did you all talk about, after I conked out?"

Mythra sighed, an expression of tired frustration ghosting across her face. "...well...let's just say...your sister Mio has remembered that other world. Like...a lot of it."

He didn't like the sense of foreboding those words carried. "...well, might as well grab the Ardun by the horns."

xxxx

Mio had been...dealing with quite a few feelings since yesterday.

Okay, a lot of feelings. Processing them should have been relatively easy for someone with her experience...but a young teenager without a soldier's conditioning was, to no one's shock, relatively lacking in self-control.

(Little wonder that she and Noah had always been drawn to each other; for all the ways they complemented each other, they were downright hopeless at certain things. Why would that be any different outside Aionios?)

But still; the sheer shock — of Interlinking with Noah in all but name; of remembering Aionios, in all of its pains and sorrows, with the joys sprinkled in-between; of looking at the face of Moebius D, and impulsively recoiling — had forced her to be introspective. Even as she and Noah had quietly explained a great deal of their experiences in Aionios the prior night (with Nia providing some supporting details here and there), her mind had nonetheless drawn back...because she wasn't just Mio, soldier of Agnus, host of M's memories; she was also Mio, daughter of Nia and Rex.

The sister of Glimmer...and Diederik.

Dirk's sister.

The thought seemed so very outlandish...

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdPW0AD-DxM

It had been about a year ago: Mum had been tied up with negotiations at Echell Palace, smack dab on the boundary line between New Elysium's provinces of Gormott and Leftheria; Mom and Mother had been tied up with disciplinary matters at the school they jointly administered; Dad had been called out for an emergency mission by his subordinate Zuo, taking Wulfric and Roc as backup; as such, it had just been the Sibling Trio at home, with Dromarch to play chaperone.

Naturally, peace didn't last long.

"So...how long are you grounded?" asked Dirk with a smarmy grin.

Mio rolled her eyes. "Come on brother, I'm not in the mood..."

"To be fair, you don't normally daydream in class," observed Glimmer, idly tuning an acoustic guitar all the while. "Even Mom looked surprised when she called you out."

Mio's ears flattened. "Please, don't remind me," she whined.

Dirk, flashing his teeth, suddenly gestured with the sort of drama that Uncle Zeke would've been proud of. "Ah, but isn't it obvious? Our oh-so serious sister has caught the love bug. More passionate than a Gogol in mating season!"

Mio and Glimmer impulsively cringed at the mental imagery. "Like, ew, bro. You're not supposed to talk like that around ladies!" protested Glimmer.

"Don't see any ladies around here," he smugly said, eyes glinting with jocularity. "Just a pair of girlies." (There was a hitch in his voice when he said that. She hadn't caught it then...but now, it somehow stood out.)

Mio puffed out her cheeks. "You'd better not be talking about us like this around the other boys at school."

"Hah! Like those sods would talk nasty about you two when I'm in hearing distance. They know better." Puffing up his chest with pride, he added, "After all, I've trained them to be gentlemen."

Glimmer rolled her eyes; whether or not it was a joke, the two sisters took it as a clumsy peace offering. "If you're training boys how to be gentlemen, then we're doomed."

Dirk huffed, a flash of something (but what?) crossing his face before he masked it with another grin. "But enough about me! We're still talking about the boy of Mio's dreams. Day or night, his long black hair haunts her vision, like some two-bit ghost!"

"Come on, you-" Mio suddenly halted, ears twitching with agitation. "Wait." Eyes narrowed with suspicion. "How do you know he's got black hair?"

"The doodles in your diary, of course," he nonchalantly remarked with a knowing grin.

"...you..." The betrayal! The utter outrage! "You looked into my diary?!" she shrieked. "That breaks rule three of the Sibling Code! 'Never peek into your sibling's private affairs without asking permission!'"

"Eh, Clause Five of the Sibling Code means that we can break the rules if delegated the authority to do so by one of our parents," Dirk retorted.

Mio threw up her hands. "Which parent would give you permission to look in my diary?!"

"Implicit delegation is a thing! Dad would want to know about any boy you're having fantasies about, if only so he can threaten 'em. I'm just being proactive!" The fact he sounded like such a smart-aleck only added to the irritation.

"Dirk..." growled Mio, fighting the urge to go grab the training variant of her Twin Rings and throttle her brother senseless.

"...how good are her doodles?" asked Glimmer, seemingly accepting the situation and opting for juicy information.

Mio gaped at her sister. "Glim?!"

"...let's just say she's better at being a fighter than an artist," he diplomatically remarked.

Mio finally gave into temptation, launching herself at Dirk to wrestle with him. The two siblings kicked and punched, even clawed at each other; however, there was an inherent playfulness to it, akin to how kittens 'fought.' There was little malice. (And yet...Dirk seemed restrained, in retrospect...)

Then, it ended suddenly.

"Wild Maelstrom."

A storm of water crashed into the wrestling duo, pushing them outside of the room and out the back door. As they landed in the grassy backyard, Dirk and Mio moaned over how drenched they were.

The perpetrator looked down upon them with a measured glance. "I do believe House Rules state that any play fighting is to be done either outside or in the designated training arenas," said Dromarch. "And what has Sir Rex said about the House Rules?"

Dirk and Mio huffed, their wet hair hanging limply. Finally, they answered simultaneously. "Rule Twelve of the Salvager's Code: a man's home is his castle; don't break the Rules, and life won't be a hassle."

"Very good. I highly recommend drying off before coming in." With that said, Dromarch sauntered back inside; Glimmer quietly walked out moments later, a knowing grin on her face.

Dirk grumbled, a strangely ugly look briefly manifesting. "Feh. You couldn't have warned us about the overgrown furball?" He then proceeded to wring out his sleeves, looking no different than usual; Mio brushed it off without a thought. (Oh, but those words hadn't been an expression of mere frustration...!)

"Like I was gonna get drenched because of you two," Glimmer joked, eventually giggling at their predicament.

Mio couldn't help but smile at the inanity of it all, nor could Dirk. However, her brother suddenly looked stern. "So; you serious about this dream boy of yours?" he asked, looking directly into her eyes. "I mean it; you ain't one to get your head in the clouds over a boy. Is this 'mystery man' that big of a deal?"

(Back then, she hadn't been sure. There had only been a certain sense of...longing; of incompleteness.) "...I'd like to think so," she admitted.

"I...don't know what life in that other world could have been like...but it must not have been all bad, maybe?"

"You wouldn't think it, the way Mum talked about it," muttered Dirk, looking away from her. In the distance, the horned peak of Melnath — the great head of the Gormott Titan, unmoving and silent ever since it had joined with New Elysium — was a stark silhouette against the setting sun. "He'd better be a good sort...or else I'll rip his bloody pelt off."

The malice in those words had been so obvious that even Mio had been able to hear it. "Dirk...?"

However, he turned back with his characteristic grin, brushing it all away with an easy joke. "Then Mum can heal him up, and that's when Dad will give him a real ripper of a lecture! He'll be left a quivering mess, I'll bet!"

"...ugh, you're impossible," mumbled Mio, nonetheless playfully shoving Dirk in the shoulder.

(She hadn't thought any further about it...but maybe she should have.)

xxxx

...and yet, she also had memories of this life: equally as profound as her memories of Aionios. The differences between Dirk — her brother — and D were stark.

Alas, with the benefit of hindsight...she could now recall traces of behavior that were out of place; outliers. Dirk had tried to hide it. Could it...be possible...?

She was unsure. Yet, looking in Noah's direction — split between talking with Dad and Dunban at the kitchen table — Mio believed that Noah felt the same way. We'll have to be delicate. Even if we want to...we can't just treat Dirk like he's D Reborn.

(The possibility evoked a strange horror that hadn't been present before.)

Therefore, when her ears tilted towards the stairwell — where Dirk was walking down, followed by Dromarch and Mother — Mio tried to focus on the differences between Dirk and D.

D had been pale; despite his hedonistic sadism, he had seemed gaunt in the face, with scraggly facial hair on the chin; combined with the dirty blond hair, his whole appearance had seemed...washed out.

Dirk, by comparison, was vibrant. His thick head of blond hair was a perfect match for Mother's, and his skin was hale and flush with life. Even his uniquely red eyes possessed a potency that had been lacking in Aionios...and yet, there was a shadow lingering in those depths. (How long had it been there? How much of D was bubbling up within Dirk, even now? Or had Dirk actually been a mere precursor for D's horrors?)

(You can't think that. He's your brother. He's FAMILY.)

Mio had barely opened her mouth when Dirk beat her to the punch. "Sorry," he said.

"...eh?" said Mio with a blink. "Um...what for?"

"For calling your new 'boyfriend' a loser," he quietly remarked, glancing in Noah's direction. "Getting in his face. Causing a scene. Stuff like that." He was strangely reticent, and full of more tension than a coiled spring.

Even so, the mere experience of hearing Dirk (speaking with D's face and D's voice, no matter how much younger he was) apologize was so unexpected that Mio was caught on the back foot. "Um...well. Thank you. Apology accepted. And...sorry for punching you."

Dirk rolled his eyes. "Eh, I'm sure I had it coming. You know how I am."

I don't know how you are, thought Mio, silently appraising his expression. Her memories of Aionios had integrated thoroughly with her memories of this life; so much so, that drawing a conclusion on such an ambiguous matter was surprisingly difficult. I feel like I should know...but I don't. (What did that say about her?)

Dirk seemed to ignore her silence, turning away towards the kitchen; all the while, every adult watched their exchange in silence.

xxxx

Dirk couldn't bear to look at his sister's face.

Mio was an opinionated sort, at least when it came to her siblings; the perfect picture of politeness and civility amongst adults and her peers, to be sure. But when it came to himself and Glimmer, Mio had never been one for shyness.

Normally, she would have followed up his 'you know how I am' comment with an easy jab at his ego, because that's just what Mio did. That's just what they did: Dirk instigated and pushed until Mio or Glimmer put their foot down.

But to see her react with such hesitation, and such naked bewilderment...it was like meeting a stranger.

A stranger that wore Mio's face.

(You can only wonder how much you seem like a stranger to them.)

Dirk resisted the urge to let such dark thoughts sour his mood further, instead defaulting to 'breakfast mode.' "Might as well see what Mom's cooking," he casually remarked, leaving Mio behind.

(He wouldn't let this beat him. He wouldn't. He wouldn't.)

xxxx

Author's Note: The Salvager's Code is eternal.

 

[JimmyWolk]

Author's Note: The Salvager's Code is eternal.

Click to shrink...

Aside from the 5th rule, that is eternally redacted.
Still continues to be intriguing, especially the family dynamics.

Also can't help but think about the reactions of Eunie meeting Dirk. Blissful obliviousness? Double dose of PTSD? Another socking?
Also Joran, now that I think about it...

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

Author's Notes: Gotta love Xenoblade Reddit for their meme-posts:

View: https://www.reddit.com/r/Xenoblade_Chronicles/comments/13f564y/parenthood_fixed_version/

xxxx

Fairness.

An unusual topic, but an important one: what was fair about the process behind which the former soldiers of Aionios recovered their memories?

In the wake of the Rejoining, those who had been subjected to Moebius's cycle of rebirth had begun to recall traces of their time during the Intersection, that 'Endless Now': experienced as dreams, nightmares, or lingering phantom pains. Glitches in the system, one might be tempted to call them.

Yet, as the Queen of Keves had remarked to Ouroboros during the twilight of Aionios, "everything that exists is reality." And for however long that singular moment called 'Aionios' had lasted, its existence had been just as real as Bionis or Alrest.

Reality has its say, regardless of the wishes of those who experience it. That some were affected more by reality than others...could it not be reduced to a question of mere chance?

It is uncertain. It would have been so much easier if there had been a nefarious plot, with a definitive villain responsible for afflicting those former soldiers with memories of that time.

But we all know that isn't true; Moebius was born from the collective unconsciousness of all peoples: forged from everyone's lingering fear of the future, as uncertainty gripped them all in light of what must have assuredly seemed their impending doom.

So in essence, mankind was — as it ever was — its own worst enemy.

Alas, the questions are still asked, even if the answers are those which would not satisfy: why were some afflicted by memories more than others? Why were some more susceptible to undergoing personality changes because of their time in Aionios? Last, but certainly not least: how was it fair to the people around them, to see someone change into seemingly someone else?

As with many things in life...sometimes, it comes down to the luck of the draw.

Whether that was fair or unfair was a matter of perspective.

xxxx

Dunban inwardly mused that there was something remarkably unfair about this whole 'memory recovery' business. It seems as if there's little in the way of choice as to who remembers what, and when.

It would have been so much easier, if all those former soldiers had simply been granted a definitive choice to remember or not; given how many had been negatively affected by their memories, he imagined that quite a few could have done without recalling their days in Aionios. (Which, to his unending disbelief, had been a literal 'world of strife'.)

Even for those who had desired their lost memories, it was an open question as to whether the person they had originally been would have consented to an apparent personality change. Ashera was a case in point that he knew personally; had the young girl — learning to be a medic from Sharla — secretly wanted to be more of a combat specialist, akin to her elder sister Panacea? Or had her personality been suppressed by that of a woman who — as far as Noah and Mio remembered — last recalled being the commander of an entire Kevesi Colony? And that wasn't even getting into even odder cases like Kenny Rohan...

Alas, Dunban doubted he would ever find out with absolute certainty.

Speaking of Noah and Mio...they were a rather interesting sort, having apparently been Moebius themselves.

Dunban quietly sipped from a cup of lemonade, observing the morning gathering around the extended kitchen table: Rex sat the head, with Pyra to his right and Nia to his left; on Pyra's side sat Glimmer, Mio, and then Noah, whilst Dirk and then Mythra sat on Nia's side. The chair to Dunban's right had been pulled away, allowing Dromarch to sit on his haunches with everyone else. (How ironic that the gigantic tiger would be the most well-mannered and gentlemanly of the whole lot.) All told, conversation that morning had seemed a bit...stilted. Most had complimented Pyra's baked redfish, but the heavy cloud of Mio, Noah, and Nia's revelations last night hung over them all; the definitive discomfort between Mio, Noah, and Dirk was also impossible to ignore.

The ice would have to break eventually.

Fortunately, Glimmer was there to play proverbial peacemaker. "So...if you two, like, remember all this stuff, and you were always apparently together...does that mean you're like, already married?"

Mio and Noah both froze, as the eyes of all four of the girl's parents zoomed in at them.

Mio blinked. "Um. Well..."

Rex huffed, leaning back against his chair. "Would make sense, now that I'm thinking about it. I mean, I did fight alongside their great-grandchildren."

"Eh?!" yelped Mythra, looking back and forth between her husband and Nia's progeny. "After everything we discussed last night, you somehow glossed over this?!"

"I mean, yours and Pyra's Core Crystal was in Matthew's Blade, so you were kind of there in spirit," added Rex with an apologetic shrug.

Pyra's smile was somewhat brittle. "I don't think that's what Mythra's getting at..."

"It's about the principle of the matter! Missing out on one of my kid's weddings is a no-go!" exclaimed Mythra, with an almost exaggerated mania. "Come on Nia, she's your daughter. How can you be so...blasé about it?!"

"There's only so often you can experience the same sort of situation," idly remarked Nia, stoically sipping her iced tea. "With how often Noah and Mio found each other, the data detailing their first encounters was...a recurring event. And honestly...there's only so many times you can witness that sort of thing, even if at a distance."

Mio's ears went erect with horror, her eyes staring widely at her mother. "Mum...you're not saying...?"

Nia simply took another sip. A long, loud sip. "Fortunately, Poppi eventually learned to...filter the audio-visual feeds."

"Oh my," muttered Pyra.

"...oof," grumbled Mythra. "You have my sympathies."

"...well, this is awkward," said Rex.

Glimmer gave Mio a conciliatory pat on the back as her sister buried her face into her hands. Noah had wisely decided to remain dead silent.

Dirk, however, had no such inclinations. "Heh. Mum having to watch your first time? That's the stuff of a comedy." Shooting a cheeky grin at Nia, he asked, "What next, did someone stand up and yell 'I object' during their wedding? Might as well go for all the cliches!"

Glimmer gasped. "Wait, did that happen?!"

"I was yankin' their chain, Glim," griped Dirk. "Life ain't like those crappy Tantalese romance novels."

"First of all, they're exquisite literature. Second, how would you know if they're crappy? Third, you take that back," snarled Glimmer.

"...Tantalese romance novels?" quoted Rex, looking somewhat befuddled.

Glimmer froze, realizing she had inadvertently outed herself. "Erm."

"...am I going to need to have a talk with a certain Tantalese Prince?" asked Pyra, her brittle smile just a touch too wide. Nearby fragrance candles suddenly flickered with a brighter glow.

"Easy, sis," cautioned Mythra. "Besides, Zeke wouldn't dare. If anyone's her source, my money's on Pandoria."

Nia cleared her throat. "...to answer your question Dirk, that never happened. Their lifespans were rarely long enough to support such pageantry. But the life wherein they left behind a son...had one memorial in the form of a rather...awkward photograph."

At this, Noah suddenly spoke up. "It was nothing like that! Mio and Ghondor were fine; I just...I was distracted by a fly right when they took the picture..."

Everyone chuckled at the boy's apparent embarrassment, Dunban included. There was at least some childish impulses still present in the young boy; where an adult would have simply laughed it off, Noah seemed as mortified as a typical teenager. Still, to think he apparently has memories of being a father...how bizarre. He briefly glanced back at Dirk, only to pause.

The humor in the boy's face had bled away, leaving behind a tired expression. Finishing the last of his redfish, he remarked, "Look...I don't know if you all are putting on a routine for my sake. If you are, I appreciate it. But it's hard to laugh when everyone keeps lookin' at me like I'm about to explode."

Dunban frowned; no one had blatantly stared at Dirk. If nothing else, they had occasionally glanced in his direction, as if gauging his speech and mannerisms. To think he's that observant. A function of his own training? Or perhaps a trace from that other world...?

"You all obviously talked about me last night; I'm no Tirkinhead. So can we stop ignoring the Rotbart in the living room and get on with it?" Dirk paused, inhaling deeply, before looking at Rex. "Can we be excused for that? Please?"

Rex sighed, looking somewhat conflicted; until, with a steady nod, he looked over at Nia.

"...very well." Nia stood up, adopting her more regal persona. "Mio. Noah. I'd like you to follow me and Dirk to the training hall. As the ones who remember the relevant time in Aionios, your input is important."

"Yes, ma'am," said Mio, rising to her feet. "Thanks for breakfast, Mom," she said to Pyra.

"Yes; thank you very much, ma'am," politely added Noah, nodding respectfully. He briefly glanced back at Dunban, as though requesting permission.

Dunban gave it with a wave of his hand, trusting that the Queen of Agnus wouldn't let anything untoward happen to his temporary charge. He instead focused on Dirk as the boy followed them; there was an undeniable tension in the young man's back. I wonder...how much does he remember? Once the four had left the room, he looked back towards Rex. "How would you rate Queen Nia's combat capacity?" He had to put his mind at ease; he doubted that Melia's Alrestian counterpart would be lacking in capability, but he had to be sure.

Rex chuckled, flashing a toothy grin. "Her healing abilities are so strong that can she basically used weaponized cancer as an attack. Ol' Malos found that out the hard way, the poor bastard."

Glimmer gagged, while Pyra and Dromarch impulsively shivered at the wording. Dunban merely raised an eyebrow. I'll have to make sure to stay on her Majesty's good side.

Mythra simply settled for crossing her arms, tapping her bicep irritably; she wanted this whole situation to be resolved as soon as possible.

Honestly, who could blame her?

(Rex, however...had so casually referred to Nia's 'weaponized cancer', as though the thought of Nia using it against his son never even crossed his mind.)

(The Master Driver believed that it would all work out.)

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtPOpG_L9xA

Noah couldn't help but feel some measure of blame for the current turn of events.

In a sense, that wasn't fair to either himself or to Mio; how were they supposed to know that their memories would return with such ferocity?

(Mere moments after the Rejoining, his ears had caught the sound of a familiar flute; thoughts of pursuing Eunie, Lanz, and Joran fell to the wayside, as he contentedly followed the sound. He eventually found himself staring at a large public monitor, where the news was broadcasting footage of brand new continents, heretofore unseen. Somehow, someway, his world and Mio's had combined.)​

Naught but a mere orphan, swept up by the passage of fate into events beyond belief: that was Noah in a nutshell. That he and his three childhood friends had since been adopted wholesale...

("Sonnypon Riku told Riki that he could find you here!" explained a happily rambunctious Nopon, who had all of a sudden barged into the orphanage that they called 'home'. "This not do! Riki will be adopting you now, no questions asked!")​

...well, that was a story for another time.

Now was the time to focus on Moebius D...on Dirk. It's strange. It seems...different, and yet it shouldn't be. Ouroboros had fought to return the power of choice to all the peoples of Aionios, who had been constrained by Moebius's iron grip on the world; amidst such hardships, where they themselves had killed in order to survive...how could they condemn those who had felt trapped? M, J, and even N...had all been extended clemency. Should it not be the same for Dirk, who was once D?

It felt different, somehow. Was it a mere fact of how repulsive he had been as an individual? (N had been repulsive in his own way, glorying in Ouroboros's despair as he mocked their weakness, jeering at how they couldn't save Mio from her Homecoming. J had likewise seemed gleeful at first, basking in the fullness of his Moebius powers, relishing at how it gave him the strength to dominate.) Was it because D had shown no redeeming qualities? (What could be done, with a man who expressed ecstasy at the thought of burying the world in severed heads?)

Yet here they were: not only facing the boy whom D had come from, but Mio's brother. Truly, the passage of fate was a wild ride indeed...as D himself had once put it.

All these thoughts and more roiled through Noah's head as they entered a spacious training room, filled with free weights and blunted versions of familiar weapons. Nia calmly turned around, looking at them all with an understanding gaze. "Alrighty then. Dirk...I'm sure you have questions."

Dirk snorted, looking between Mio and Noah; the four had subconsciously formed a square formation, with Nia standing across from Dirk. Mio stood to his left, while Noah was to his right. "That's putting it mildly, Mum." Glancing at Mio, he pointedly said, "You wouldn't look at someone the way you looked at me unless they'd done somethin' awful."

Mio frowned. "Dirk-"

"Don't try and apologize. Not like any of us can apparently help it." The young blond huffed, an irritable grimace crossing his face. "Guess I'm just trying to wonder why. The memories I keep seeing bits and pieces of...they feel they should belong to someone else. Not to someone from a family like ours."

"Like ours?" repeated Noah.

"With Mio and Glim as siblings? With Dad, Mother, Mom, and Mum? Old Dromarch as our proverbial nanny, and Grandpa Azurda showing up every so often? 'Bout as stable a family as you can get, with the power to protect from any nasties to boot! That ain't even getting into our various 'aunts' and 'uncles'. So why would I wind up being so bloody awful?" Dirk looked between Noah and Mio, confusion crossing his face. "How do you remember?"

Nia quickly explained. "The nature behind how they became partners...and how fate connected them...it's a bit of a long tale. To summarize a great deal, they became linked through a power called Ouroboros. That link persisted, no matter how often they experienced the cycle of rebirth in Aionios."

"...but that ain't the whole gist of it, huh?" Dirk slowly began to pace, keeping his eyes towards Noah and Mio. "It's strange; there's no rhyme or reason to what I see. But I seem to remember seeing you two in strange armor...and then again as enemies...and I don't have any bloody context. You were in that dank theater, but you also weren't. What gives?!"

He's getting agitated. Noah voluntarily stepped up, saying, "What happened in that world...is that, for one reason or another, the leader of Moebius — Z — would select certain individuals to join his ranks. He would offer them a reason to become Moebius. You were one of them. And...I was no different." Be honest. Be forthright.

"...so I was a Moebius, huh?" Dirk schooled his face into a stony mask. "And you were, too, eh?"

"So was I," said Mio, looking quietly in Noah's direction.

Dirk looked at Mio with a measure of surprise. "Really? And what was your reason?"

"Before they tell you, you must understand this," interrupted Nia, speaking with a solemn tone. "The purpose for which Z lived...was to perpetuate Aionios as it was, for all eternity. Yet, lacking the life that those within Origin intrinsically held, he engineered a world where life was always at stake...and therefore, in his eyes, was always at its most vibrant."

"...when I emerged in that dark place, Z told me that he was going to make an offer to Noah," said Mio, sounding so much older than her voice should have allowed. "And I simply said...that I would trust Noah to do the right thing. And then, when I saw all the memories of my past lives, and saw how I died before Noah, every single time...I thought that, perhaps, we could change Moebius from the inside, find a way to end the eternal stalemate..."

Z never said anything about that. Noah grimaced, knowing intimately just how badly he had let her down in the past; yet, from the standpoint of Moebius, it had perpetuated the Endless Now. All was forgivable, if it meant the completion of that goal. Be honest. Own up to your mistakes. "As for me...I wanted to stop seeing Mio die. I didn't want to lose anymore. I...thought I could pay whatever price. But Z's price...was the lives of an entire City full of people."

Dirk balked. "Titan's Foot, the hell are you on about-?"

"For Z...it was twofold. By destroying the City, and killing those who represented the future of the world...it would not only perpetuate the Endless Now...but it also temporarily stopped the plans of Alpha to destroy Aionios. By telling me that it would help save the world, and keep Keves and Agnus from perishing...I was able to justify it to myself." (Yet, deep down, if the threat of Alpha had not been present...he wondered if he would have slaughtered the Cityfolk anyway.)

"...N never told M about any of this," whispered Mio, looking utterly shocked by that revelation. "...not once, over all those years...N let M believe that he had done it for no other reason than to live forever with her."

Be honest. Be forthright. "At the time...he believed that you had suffered enough. N...that is, I...believed that it was my burden alone to bear." No matter how foolish the thought had been, that was how he had been able to live with himself. (And, deep down...he knew that telling Mio he had delivered a fatal blow to Ghondor — no matter how it had come about — would have been too cruel. Better to let her believe that he had been an indiscriminate monster. So long as he had had her, he would have been able to withstand anything.)

"...forget a Tantalese romance, this has all the intrigue and trademark betrayals of an Indoline drama," griped Dirk. His face had settled into a frustrated frown. "Still not hearing how I enter into the picture. All this stuff about 'the City', and 'Z', and 'Alpha'...what am I supposed to do with all of that? How did I become Moebius?!"

Noah shared a glance with Mio, wondering precisely how to phrase it-

"Come on, out with it!" yelled Dirk.

"Easy now," calmly said Nia.

Her calm voice seemed to cool his ire. "...sorry. Sorry Mum." Dirk huffed, crossing his arms and stuffing his hands beneath his armpits. (A means of restraining himself? Noah wasn't sure.) "Still...I wanna know."

Be honest. Don't hold back. "Well...I'm not sure if either of us witnessed the moment you became Moebius..." There was a trace of something that he seemed to recall, but it eluded him; there were simply too many memories to sift through. (Compared to everything involving his last life in Aionios...and everything connected to Mio...would olden encounters with Moebius D have rated highly?) "...but during our last battle, you yourself told us."

"Told you what?"

"...the reason why you...that is, the man who called himself 'Blackblaze Dirk'...became Moebius." Mio looked downright stricken. "You spoke of how you recalled every memory of slaughter...how it was 'transcendent'...and then without prompting, began to brag about your 'collection'..."

"A collection of what?" Dirk's frown had become an unbearable thing to witness.

Noah took the proverbial plunge. "...heads. That was the implication given to us by Moebius D."

There was an odd sort of silence within the training room, as Dirk looked back and forth between the other three; almost as though he were waiting for the punchline. Somehow, Noah felt as though he could hear the other boy's very heartbeat (and if he could, doubtless Mio and Nia did).

Finally, the blond scoffed. "How am I supposed to react? Is this some sort of joke? Because it's not funny."

"We wouldn't joke about something like-"

"Piss off!" roared Dirk, his hands suddenly dropping to his side. The very motion forced Mio and Noah to step back, recognizing the stance as that of Moebius D's. "You're talking like I was some serial killer! A monster! What if I were to say 'no', huh?!"

"Dirk, I know it's hard, but that's what happened-!"

Noah's words were cut off by a snap of ether, emanating from Dirk's body. "I don't appreciate you mocking Mother; but then again, you're just a Kevesi, so I guess you're excused from knowing the history of the Aegis...but you, sis? You know better!"

Mio briefly glanced at Noah, looking truly befuddled. "Dirk, I don't understand-"

"I'm the son of Mythra...so I can't be a monster. I'm not allowed to be a monster! Because if I was, what would that imply about her? The same old tired trash we all read about in our history books before we were even ten years old!" Righteous anger mixed with a seemingly unnatural rage, directed...inwardly? Outwardly? Everywhere? Whatever the case, Noah could hear Dirk's tone becoming sharper with each passing moment. "But these memories...they definitely belonged to a monster, didn't they? You two seem to have adapted pretty quickly..." Without warning, glowing spears emanated from his wrists; human-sized though they were, they were unmistakably the unique weapon that Moebius D had wielded. "...so maybe I should play along-"

A wave of water rushed over them, utterly drenching them all. Noah and Mio yelped with surprise, while Dirk spat out a mouthful of liquid.


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PblgOfIQA2Q

Nia, dismissing her flowery Catalyst Scimitar, simply shook her head. "You know the rules: no use of Ether Arts inside the house without permission. If yer gonna train with Ether Arts, you have to either go outside or use one of the special arenas made for that purpose. Right?"

"...right." Dirk's tone had cooled considerably, as though the mere reminder of 'rules' had brought him back to the present. "Rules. Rules are important...Mother gets mad if we break the rules..." He looked down at his glowing spear, before glancing back at Nia; the very motion seemingly forced a recollection, because his face immediately curdled with shame. "I...I saw my spear...going through you..."

"I know," calmly remarked Nia, slowly stepping towards him. "But I got better."

"But I was aiming to kill...I can practically taste it..."

"That was Moebius D. You're Dirk: the son of Rex and Mythra, and as much my child as Mio is."

"But..." All strength seemed to leave him; Nia caught him before he fell to his knees, cradling his face into her arms. "What...what was I...?"

"Ssh...we're here for you, Diederik," cooed Nia, never losing the same calm and collected tone that she'd had ever since entering the training hall. "Everyone's here for you..."

"But they're not," hissed Dirk, fighting back a wracking sob. "Mio's already changed, and she don't even realize it...! If she can't see it, what hope do I got...?!"

Noah frowned, looking over at Mio with bewilderment. The teenage girl looked honestly befuddled, mirroring his own bewilderment. Have...we really changed that much...?

(If nothing else...at this very moment, there was little of Moebius D in Dirk.)

(But for how long?)

xxxx

The training hall was technically two stories tall; along that second floor were rows of seats, for observation of a spar from a better vantage point.

Naturally, it had only taken a few minutes before everyone else had vacated the kitchen, trailing to observe what was going to happen: not for Nia's sake (for they truly believed she was in no danger), but for the sake of greater understanding.

Needless to say, the preceding conversation had been very...taxing.

Rex glanced over at Mythra, where her teeth were practically clenched together with a self-loathing expression; for all the boy had meant well, Dirk had opened some old wounds with his words. This ain't the sort of thing we're gonna be able to bash our head against, he thought with a frown.

As Pyra and Glimmer whispered to Mythra, Dromarch remarked, "The young lord is quite troubled."

"Indeed," agreed Dunban. "His words at the end ring true; I don't think Noah nor Mio realize just how much older they come across as, now." The visiting swordsman placed a hand on his hip, looking sternly at Rex. "What are you going to do now?"

"Whatever we can to help, obviously." The boy's not only got memories of being a Moebius in his head...but also however long he spent as a soldier on top of it, living and dying during that endless cycle. Navigating this trial would require someone with more experience in the trials involved with that sort of life. I think it's time we pay a visit to Mòrag.

xxxx

Author's Note: One of the things I was curious about in terms of how Noah became N is that, when looking at the theater screen during the relevant Chapter 6 cutscenes...it already showed Mio as M, further ahead along the path than N started out at. We also know that M expressed the wish of "I want to be with you forever" at some point...yet it also seems like Mio becoming Moebius was likewise N's final decision. So I tried to find a way to square those all together.

But yeah, when youngsters act mature beyond their age (especially when they were acting 'normal' just the day prior), it can come across as rather uncanny.

Anyhow, I won't be going into further detail beyond Dunban's little aside at the beginning, but what if Consul K had originally been Kenny Rohan (the artist dude) from Colony 9 in Xenoblade 1?

I will elaborate no further.

/also
//I'm not going to make any guesses as to the potential parentage of the Kevesi quartet
///but hey, all of them being part of an orphanage in the city underneath Alcamoth is as good an idea as any, given their shared color schemes and cost-effective unisex wardrobes seen at the beginning of XC3
////this also gives me an excuse to have Riki be a gigachad dadapon and just adopt four kids without warning

 

[kip]

[A Destroyer's Remorse, Chapter 4]

are you sure this isn't supposed to be an apocrypha post like A Destroyer's Remorse, Chapters 1-3?

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

[A Destroyer's Remorse, Chapter 4]

are you sure this isn't supposed to be an apocrypha post like A Destroyer's Remorse, Chapters 1-3?

Click to shrink...

Indeed it should.

/maybe I'm subconsciously starting to buy into it the more I write the "Mythra's kid is Dirk" idea XD

 

[JimmyWolk]

And that wasn't even getting into even odder cases like Kenny Rohan...

Click to shrink...

Wai, what...?

Anyhow, I won't be going into further detail beyond Dunban's little aside at the beginning, but what if Consul K had originally been Kenny Rohan (the artist dude) from Colony 9 in Xenoblade 1?

I will elaborate no further.

Click to shrink...

Oh... XD

"I mean, yours and Pyra's Core Crystal was in Matthew's Blade, so you were kind of there in spirit," added Rex with an apologetic shrug.

Click to shrink...

"Yeah, speaking of..." *staring at Noah* "What was that 'chucking us into the ocean' about...?"

Glimmer gave Mio a conciliatory pat on the back as her sister buried her face into her hands.

Click to shrink...

Glimmer should be especially careful, Miss "Head of a House".

("Sonnypon Riku told Riki that he could find you here!" explained a happily rambunctious Nopon, who had all of a sudden barged into the orphanage that they called 'home'. "This not do! Riki will be adopting you now, no questions asked!")​

...well, that was a story for another time.

Click to shrink...

Man, what... what are you doing? I thought this was supposed to be your "totally non-canon" side thing. You know you can't leave us hanging without a bajillion more stories in this universe with such kind of setups!

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

Lucid dreaming was a fascinating phenomenon: to know that you're dreaming, and to have some measure of interactivity with it.

To live as one dreaming; to dream as one alive; some might call it an unachievable ideal, or perhaps an odd thought experiment.

The point, alas, was that those who had begun recalling their former lives in Aionios...slowly became more intimate with the contents of their dreams, to the point where they felt them acutely. To kill complete strangers out of hatred, for glory, for the mere sake of survival; to feel your Blade cut through them; to smell the dust-choked air, to feel invigorated as their flames empowered your own; such were foreign to the everyday experiences of most youngsters native to Alrest or Bionis. (After all, adults could be more equipped, arguably, to handle such trials...but when the soldiers of Keves and Agnus had been pulled from a population of those no younger than seven, and no older than twenty-one at the time of the Intersection, their lack of life experience showed all the more. Granted, these numbers were relative to one's physiology, which could vary between the races...but that was a tale for later.)

Dirk was no different. The sensations had only become more stark as time progressed from the moment of the Rejoining.

The night after he first learned that he had been a Moebius, he dreamed of a theater.

"Fascinating, is it not?"

It was a voice he had never heard before, yet had stark memories of regardless. Nervously, he looked to his left. "...Lord Z?" The words left his mouth without thought; he impulsively clapped his hands over his mouth, bewildered that he had even said that name at all.

The strange fellow spoke without looking back. "That the desire for what 'once was' still persists; that even in a world moving headlong towards the future, there is a remnant of the Endless Now." The being called 'Z' continued watching the movie screen, as if uncaring for Dirk's presence. "It was once said that 'everyone has a bit of Moebius within them'; how much is metaphor, and how much is literal? Even now, surrounded by so much light...the future still seems clouded over for so many. In the face of that uncertainty, how many yearn for the relative simplicity of Aionios; for the world made possible by Moebius?"

"Only because I've got memories of some arsehole in my head!" snarled Dirk, letting his impulsive anger shine through. quite literally; his ether buzzed, illuminating the seats around him. "I may not know everything about what Moebius did in Aionios, but Mum's told enough for me to know that I want nothing to do with you!"

"And yet it still lingers," calmly replied Z. "The sensations; the experiences; the invigorating liveliness of it all. You may call it dreadful, yet it was a world that existed on the taking of lives. Why feel shame, for being better at it than so many? Why do you seek to feel revulsion for enjoying it?"

"Because it ain't RIGHT!" There was nothing else to be said other than that!

Z finally looked away from the movie screen, staring at him stoically. "Then if it's so revolting, why is it so difficult to let go?" At this, the teenager had no answer. "If you can truly turn away...then show me your resolve."

Dirk grimaced, his gaze finally turning towards the movie screen...only to pause, eyes widening. "Wha...?" Footage of himself, cutting through soldiers; instead of the spray of blood, there was the light of red motes. "That's..." The 'Dirk' on screen varied in age, from a preteen to a young man; however, the same tired smirk was present on all of them. "That's not..." The hair was paler; the skin was ghostly; the eyes were dead; yet...it was him. "...not me...it can't be me...!"

"You sure about that?" The Dirks on the movie screen all looked at him; they spoke in unison. "You struggle because you're unsatisfied with how things turned out; you remember the power you once had, and you miss it. The rules of your world frown upon the very existence of Aionios...yet there is lingering desire for that old life. So tell me, kiddo: why would you desire something if you didn't think it good?"

Dirk was still a child, in many ways; asking him to face such darkness and depravity — cultivated in isolation for untold generations — was too tall an order. "I...I'm not...!"

The Dirks on the canvas all sneered, coalescing into one. "Then maybe we should remind you of what you're missing." Seamlessly, 'Dirk' — nay; Moebius D — stepped out of the screen and onto the auditorium, clad in his resplendent crimson and violet garb; now an adult, he towered — literally and figuratively — over Dirk. "Power, uncaring for the opinions of anyone else; power, to take life as you willed; power, to do whatever you wanted!" In a flash of purple light, D transformed into a monstrous beast, all sharp angles and harsh edges. "So...let me show you..."

Dirk gasped with terror, bolting from his chair; all thought for Z or the impossibility of his current situation faded, as he tried to flee; yet the exit seemed so far away...!

"...JUST WHAT YOU'VE BEEN MISSING!"

A rain of glowing spears slammed into the ground around Dirk, shattering the floor. There was no foundation beneath the theater, but rather an infinite abyss: an endless pit, swallowing him whole...!

Dirk screamed-

xxxx

-and he sat up with a startled gasp; eyes wide, face clammy, hair slick with sweat. "Hah...hah..."

"Having a nightmare?"

Dirk's eyes darted to his right; his sister Mio was sitting in a chair bolted against the wall. (That little detail brought him back to the present; he was in the shack upon Azurda's back; Dad had renovated and expanded it some years ago, to make room for his family. It had been a few days since the dramatic incident in the training hall with Noah and Mio; he, Dad, Mother, and Mio were on their way to the province of Mor Ardain...while Mum, Mom, Glimmer, and Dromarch had remained behind for a variety of reasons. Right. He was back up to speed.) "...guess I must have looked pathetic," he grumbled.


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDukhKF36nw

"I wouldn't criticize anyone having a nightmare," she solemnly remarked.

Dirk frowned, slowly moving his legs off of the cot; setting his feet on the floor, he rested his elbows on his knees, staring quietly at Mio.

Mio didn't ask why; they seemed to be trying to gauge each other, taking their sibling's measure.

Finally, Dirk asked, "What was it like? Regaining all your memories, I mean."

"...I'd be lying if I said there was perfect recall. I had centuries of M's memories, alongside my own. It's like..." The catgirl frowned, ears twitching out of irritation. (At least that aspect of his sister hadn't changed.) "...it's like I started out with a library, with some books; but a lot of the shelves are empty, and there was an inexperienced librarian that could tell you where almost all of the books were. But now...every shelf is full, and the librarian has a former employee assisting her, who used to work there for years...and knows exactly where everything is. Does that make sense?"

"...a bit of an obtuse metaphor, though, ain't it? Trying to show off how much of a bookworm you are?"

Mio frowned, impulsively retorting, "Come on, I'm trying to be helpful!"

At her snappish retort, Dirk cracked a grin; it was a nice splash of familiarity. "I know, I know, I get the picture...glad there's still some of my sister still in there."

"...do I really seem that much different?" she asked with a sort of disarming honesty.

"...maybe not with our parents or the adults who know you. You've always been very...respectful; the most 'proper' of us three. But with me, I could get under your skin so damn easy. And whenever Glim actually sides with me, you're quick to start scratching."

Mio flushed with seeming embarrassment. "Sorry. It seems so...childish."

And there we go again. "It's how I've always known you." The silence trailed on once more, heavy and uncomfortable. The very thought of committing some easy chatter felt anathema, and it bothered Dirk something fierce. "Do you...feel, different?"

"...I'm not sure how to describe it. It's like the person who I've been met another version of me...and just welcomed her, as though she had always belonged. I was Mio before, just as I was Mio in Aionios...and I'm still Mio now, at this moment."

(That's what Dirk was afraid of.) "Not exactly a sterling vote of confidence for my fate, is it?"

Mio scowled, looking rather annoyed by his dejected tone. "Don't give me that. You're still here; you're still fighting. And it's not like you have a time limit built in; so long as you have the strength to carry on, you don't have to become like D!"

"...really hope you're right, sis." Dirk wasn't so sure about his own chances. Suddenly desperate to change the subject, he gazed at the nearest porthole. "We ain't movin'."

"Waiting for clearance. Papa 'Zurda is a bit bigger than most of the other airships that dock at Alba Cavanich. And given the nature of our visit, we're waiting for a chance where we'll be seen with minimal interruptions."

Dirk grinned. "Hope 'Big Zee' doesn't mind floatin' around," he joked, using an old pet nickname for Azurda that he had used for years...and yet, the moment he said it, his guts quivered with anxiety. It was so very close to the name of a particular Moebius. Take it easy. It's just a name. Just...a name. "Where are Dad and Mother?"

"Fishing."

"Well, that beats sitting around." Dirk stood up, just as Mio did; they looked at each other eye-to-eye, still evaluating where they stood with each other. Finally, Dirk took the first proverbial step. "Ladies first."

"And expose my back to you?" Before any of the immediate implications could spring to Dirk's mind, she added, "You'd probably do something to my hair."

(A joke. An attempt at humor, at bridging their newfound unease. Not entirely successful, but an effort nonetheless.) "Nah, your hair ain't long enough. Though, I have considered ear extensions, to make you look more like Mum..."

Mio audibly scoffed, reaching behind Dirk and shoving him — playfully (hopefully?) — through the door.

Dirk's eyes narrowed from the sudden brightness, even as his feet navigated the gnarled yet grassy back of the Titan with the instinct of memory. He quickly looked around to get his bearings: the sky was blue, with cloudy patches; the ocean was calm, smelling of salt and crispness; to his left, the great form of the Ardainian Titan — still an imposing sight, even with its torso partially embedded in New Elysium — loomed as an immense mountain. About its form, airships and Titan transports buzzed about like flies, while even more naval vessels moved to and fro around bustling port towns that had emerged along the Titan's partially submerged thighs over the past decade. Last, but certainly not least, Rex and Mythra were sitting in a couple of casting chairs on Azurda's starboard side, both of them holding heavy duty rods.

Judging by how Mythra's hair was curling upward with ambient ether, she wasn't doing too well. "Ugh, I have no idea how you and Nia make it look so easy."

"The fish can sense if yer agitated," easily said Rex, a carefree grin on his face. The two were clad in simple swimwear, befitting their temporary stay out in the water. "Besides, if Nia were here, we'd end up having to donate our excess to the local fishmongers."

"Smartass." Mythra gazed over her shoulder, eyes softening at the sight of Dirk and Mio. "Hey, kids."

Rex turned, focusing entirely on Dirk. "Sleep well?"

Dirk shrugged, ambling over between Dad and Mother. "Not what I'd call beauty sleep." Sitting down on the grassy surface, he lightly patted the bumpy skin of Azurda's back. Offering some spare ether as a courtesy to the elder Titan, he asked, "Is Pops resting?"

('Pops' was an older nickname; one that the children had often used before developing their own pet names for the beloved Titan that had helped raise Rex. If Rex and Mythra were confused by why he hadn't used 'Big Zee', they mercifully didn't comment on it.) "More like sucking in any fish that are too curious about our bait," observed Rex.

"Well if Azurda's been eating my catch, he has another thing coming." Looking towards the partially submerged head of the Titan, Mythra yelled, "You hear that?!"

The surface of their 'vessel' lightly vibrated: a simple chuckle by Azurda at Mythra's expense.

Mio lightly giggled, sitting on Mythra's other side. "Maybe I could give it a try?"

"Oh no you don't," growled Mythra. "I'm not letting go until I catch something."

Dirk nestled down, letting the wind blow through his hair; it was a peaceful and rather tranquil scene, waiting for approval to finally head to the Imperial Palace. I really hope Auntie Mòrag can help. (Ironically, the fact he had no memories of her from Aionios was...a saving grace. There was little reason for D to intrude upon memories of Mòrag.)

Still...sitting around was a bit boring. "You know," he said aloud, as one pondering a great question. "If the Titan had settled down just a bit lower, they could have had a port around the crotch."

"That they could have," idly remarked Rex, nudging on Dirk's shoulder with his elbow. (The 'Dad' signal for 'stop while you're ahead, there's no winning.')

"Uh huh," dryly said Mythra.

Mio, bless her heart, simply asked, "What are you getting at?" she asked with some suspicion.

"Just curious about what they would've named it, if that had been the case." There was no stopping him now. "Maybe they'd have named it after Uncle Ozzy?"

Rex and Mythra paused, while Mio — intentionally or not — took the bait. "Why would they name it after Uncle Zeke?"

Dirk grinned cheekily. "Well, didn't Mum call him a one-eyed monster one time? Seems perfect for the part!"

Dad couldn't help the loud belly laugh that escaped. Mio groaned out of disgust. Mother, meanwhile, simply scowled.

"Oh come on, you know Ozzy would get a kick out of it," protested Dirk.

"Not the point, young man," growled Mythra, using her knuckles to rub furiously against his noggin. "If you talk like that in the Palace, you're gonna be in so much trouble."

"Ow ow ow, come on Mother, it was just a joke, it was a joke!" protested Dirk, squirming all the while.

Alas, Mythra was too focused on 'disciplining' Dirk to realize something — a young Aligo, to be precise — had snagged her line. Thus, there was only a surprised yelp as the blonde went overboard.

"Mother!" cried Mio out of shock.

Rex and Dirk, alas, laughed even harder.

And so Mythra settled for screaming out of impulsive rage.

xx

Azurda had worried about Rex's son ever since they had left their home; the boy's ether had been undeniably agitated in a way the old Titan could not recall.

Yet, as Mythra fell onto old habits and started blasting her prey with bolts of Light ether, the boys' (because Rex would always be a boy to him, no matter that he was Dirk's father) laughter evoked a more pleasant sensation.

And so he remained stoic, letting the cool waters drift past his rocky flesh.

Alas, it wasn't much longer — after Mio had already started dissecting the partially toasted Aligo into slices for easier consumption — before they got the signal to head to Alba Cavanich.

xxxx

Author's Note: That whole first scene was basically Dirk pulling a Persona 4 moment.

Dirk: YOU'RE NOT ME!

D: You're right. But I still took that personally. >:D

Given that Z is essentially a Yaldabaoth/Nyarlathotep equivalent (since Moebius's whole gig kind of fits being a Persona-type villain), I wonder who the XC3 equivalent of Philemon would be? The Nopon Archsage? Alvis?

And who would Igor be?

 

[kip]

And who would Igor be?

Click to shrink...

just that ordinary noppon riku...

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

Author's Notes: 150+ hours in Tears of the Kingdom.

I think I might be finally free...

Anyhow, I'm operating off of the assumption that Blades — prior to Klaus's final actions at the end of Xenoblade 2 — were incapable of producing offspring, regardless of their physiology.

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBM99ZkSgLs

Legacies.

An important aspect in Alrest, especially in the aftermath of the events leading to the Conduit's departure.

Whether or not it was out of respect to Jin and the tribulations he had endured throughout his long life, Rex and Company had endeavored to find a way to ensure that Blades could have a legacy of their own, if they chose to seek one.

For Blades with a more humanoid physiology, procreation with other humanoids was a relatively 'simple' solution. (After all, given the sheer notoriety of the Master Driver and the Aegis, the fact his three wives — all Blades — were with child hadn't taken long to become public knowledge.) However, some Blades lacked such an option by nature of their biological makeup; this was also notwithstanding the reality that some Blades had simply been unwilling to participate in the physical processes related to sexual reproduction. (The reasons as to why said Blades had been unwilling to do so were quite varied, but were a separate story altogether.)

The Empire of Mor Ardain, having been the catalyst, instigator, and all-around belligerent in multiple conflicts in the centuries prior to the founding of New Elysium, had tried to atone in its own way. With Indol and the Praetorium in utter shambles following Amalthus's schemes, Mor Ardain had the edge over the other nations in terms of Core Crystal research and technology; the insights obtained from the Architect regarding the nature of the Core Crystals and how they functioned had been invaluable in this endeavor. With this knowledge, Mor Ardain had sought a way for Blades to perpetuate their own data through future generations.

Given that Core Crystals had been engineered as a replacement for their world's olden lifeforms, perhaps it was no surprise that taking the data from two Core Crystals to engineer an entirely new one had been deemed an optimal solution.

Mòrag, ever dutiful and seeking to make restitution for how Mor Ardain had contributed to the world's hardships, had spoken with her two most precious Blades — the Crown Jewels of Mor Ardain — about volunteering for the process.

("This is not a demand, nor an order," she had assured Brighid and Aegaeon. "It is a humble request...yet it could usher in a new era for all Blades on Alrest. It is only proper that those with authority see to it that this process is safe and functional. Taking the risk in the stead of our people...such is our duty. Yet it is also an intensely...personal undertaking. To bring about new life from your data, your proverbial essences...is not an endeavor to take lightly." At this, she simply tilted her head downward: a bow of respect to those that were bonded to her very flesh and spirit. "I leave the decision in your hands.")

Brighid and Aegaeon, to their credit, had thoroughly pondered the proposition.

(Brighid had looked through her old journal with a measure of fascination and bewilderment, coming across as genuinely perturbed. "Apparently, three centuries ago, after a failed assassination attempt by his siblings, Emperor Hector Ardanach gifted my Core Crystal to his beloved Farina upon their wedding day: a measure of protection, in response to treachery. With you serving as the Emperor's Shadow, I was likewise the Empress Consort's Shadow." She flipped a few pages, speed reading all the while. "The imperial courts were apparently quite intrigued about whether there was a relationship between us: a safer topic of gossip, given the dark tragedy with Emperor Hector's family. Alas, my past self was seemingly rather coy about putting the truth to paper." She glanced over at Aegaeon, who simply answered with a noncommittal hum. That about summed up Brighid's feelings on the prospect.)

Alas, even if there was nothing in the way of romantic feeling between the two Blades as they were now, they shared a sense of duty with their Driver. Their decision, such as it was, had been made long ago.

("We will perform our duty to the utmost, whatever may come. If this will help protect the future of your family, then I will do what I must," solemnly vowed Aegaeon. "And I will do so gladly.")

Brighid had been much the same.

("I know not of how such a...'newborn'...will come about," said Brighid with a diplomatic tone. "I will accept whatever arrangement is most fitting for this new Blade, insofar as is reasonable: whether it be treating them as a new recruit, or as a young student, or as a mere child....I will rise to the occasion." With a strange little smile, Brighid's closed eyes nonetheless managed to communicate a mixture of glee and triumph: a sharp sword, hidden within a bejeweled sheath. "I trust that you will do what is best, Lady Mòrag.")

And so the die had been cast.

Though the Titans had long ceased to produce new Core Crystals since merging with New Elysium — the matter of their ongoing sapience was indeed an open question, given that those which had joined the land seemed to have entered an indeterminate state of hibernation — the means of recreating that process had long been an object of desire for the nations of Alrest, if only because of their lust for the power offered by Blades and Drivers. However, the Ardanach Family's new goal had been born from a desire to ensure that Blades as a race would have a future of their own.

The process had also been aided along by Tora, by the Aegis, and likewise by one of Rex's other Blades: Adenine, a voracious scholar who had gleaned great quantities of knowledge from the World Tree. (Even with the space elevator in a ruined state following Aion's self-destruction, the lower floors were still structurally sound. The lack of power, on the other hand, and the databases that had been lost forever...well, listing all of Adenine's complaints about the fate of the World Tree would take all day and then some.) Even so, the materials needed to create Core Crystals (lacking the means that a Conduit-empowered Klaus had wielded as easily as breathing) were...not inexpensive.

Nonetheless, through trial and error, a viable prototype had been forged: a true Core Crystal, far removed from an artificial Blade. Into that blank template, Brighid and Aegaeon had poured their data. Finally, Mòrag had attempted to synchronize with the fledgling Core Crystal: if she — the Driver of Brighid and Aegaeon — could not synchronize with the new Blade, it was very unlikely anyone else would.

Perhaps a day would come when Blades would be able to bring forth new life from new Core Crystals without the aid of a Driver (which was a question in and of itself; would a Blade truly be such if they had no need for a Driver?)...but it was not this day.

From that synthetic Core Crystal — forged by human and Nopon hands; born from the essence of two Blades — a newborn girl had emerged, with Brighid's blue hair (burning, yet not quite as fiercely), and Aegaeon's ether lines (striking, yet somewhat muted in their glow by comparison) imprinted on infant flesh.

Her name would be Sena; it had not taken long before she was hailed as the third Jewel of Mor Ardain: a sterling addition to a storied legacy.

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQDBTGhmh0A

Ever since her birth, Sena had been made aware of her uniqueness.

There were some who called her 'Sena Ardanach'. Others, when they thought she couldn't hear, whispered 'Sena Ladair'. (The first time she had told Auntie Mòrag about it, the woman had gotten a...frightfully intense look in her eyes, before going off to speak with Uncle Niall. The Imperial Court had then undergone an extended session with both the Emperor and the Special Inquisitor; after that, it would be a very long time before anyone dared use a surname with her. It wouldn't be until she was much older that the concept of imperial politics — distasteful attempts at currying favor with Mòrag at the Emperor's expense in particular — would be impressed upon her.) However, officially speaking, she was simply 'Sena'.

There had been a certain amount of sense to it; after all, Mama Brighid and Papa Aegaeon didn't have last names either.

(The first time she had ever played with the children of the Master Driver, Sena had not helped but notice that each child's Core Crystal was identical to their respective mother's. She had always heard in passing about how she had been 'born' from Brighid and Aegaeon...yet her Core Crystal didn't match either of theirs. You're not like them, said the little seed in the back of her mind.)

Even so, there had always been a sense of...ambivalence, regarding her place in the world. After all, Sena was far from a typical Blade.

(She, a mere child, had asked why her Core Crystal wasn't like Brighid's or Aegaeon's. The two elder Blades had honestly looked rather flummoxed — as if surprised by the question — before reassuring her that it was because she was special. Yet...what if she didn't want to be 'special', a quiet part of her had whispered.)

Her education had been at the hands of tutors, as it had been with every child of the Imperial Family going back for generations; her training in Arts had primarily been with Brighid, Aegaeon, and Mòrag; her forays into the outside world had been in the company of various members of her 'extended family' (a polite term for Auntie's comrades from before her birth), especially their offspring.

And yet...for all that Sena should've identified with the Imperial Family of Mor Ardain; with Brighid, Aegaeon, or Mòrag; with Mio, Glimmer, Dirk, or Linka...something just didn't click. Her uniqueness set her apart in a way that could not be denied.

(When she had first learned of how olden Blades were electing to partake of the 'Core Crystal Reproduction' process that she had 'pioneered', she should have felt elated by the fact that others like her would be born. Yet none of these 'Blades-born-of-Blades' would have the essence of Aegaeon or Brighid; none of them would have Auntie Mòrag as their Driver; she was truly one-of-a-kind. Oh, how she loathed it, a wretched part of her had hissed.)

Nonetheless, her feelings had not so easily been hidden, in spite of her efforts to the contrary.

("I am your Driver, little Sena," remarked Auntie Mòrag, staring quietly at the ocean's distant horizon; the woman had become rather quiet and focused since contact had been established with another world. "Yet it seems I have become too used to the distinct sensations I feel from my other Blades; so used to our Affinity, that I've neglected to realize your nature makes such sensations...subtle, by comparison." Her expression must have showed her displeasure, because Auntie quickly added, "That's not your fault; merely existing is not a sin, and no one asks to be born...perhaps, in our desire to atone for the sins of the past, to grant some measure of freedom to others...we forgot that you were still a child, with all that comes with it." Russling Sena's hair with a gloved hand, Auntie remarked, "Once this matter regarding the Intersection has been handled...we'll make up for lost time." Her Auntie sounded calm, wise, and understanding...and yet, honestly remorseful for allegedly doing wrong by her. If only you had been easier; less 'you...then Auntie wouldn't feel this way, a treacherous part of her had growled.)

There was no way of knowing, alas, how Auntie and her Blades would have acted after the Intersection...

(She couldn't help but feel a strange sense of dread, as the Intersection approached. Papa Aegaeon stood stalwart, gazing at the sky above; Mama Brighid, meanwhile, acted with a strange softness that belied her usual serenity. "Be strong, Sena; we will face this together. Even to the end." What a mercy, that you'll finally stop feeling like this, a tired part of her had murmured. Yet, Sena did not speak aloud; she simply basked in the warmth of Mama's embrace, hoping beyond all hope that it would be enough to mask her dread.)

...because after the Intersection, and then the Rejoining...so many things had changed-

"Oi, Sena."

"Eh?" retorted Sena with a blink, looking over her shoulder. "Uh...is something wrong?"

Lanz crossed his arms, looking at her with an arched eyebrow. "I was calling your name for like, a minute. You getting all up in your head again?"

"...heh, I guess so," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "Still sorting through stuff, you know?"

...yes; so many things had changed.

xxxx

After the Rejoining, Sena had become strangely...extroverted.

Instead of wistfully pondering the state of their new world, she had begun doing morning workouts with unerring regularity.

From using her distinctive Comet Mallet as a supplement to her fire and water-based Arts, she had taken to using her hammer in training almost exclusively.

Whenever opportunities had arisen to hang out with the children of Auntie Mòrag and Mama Brighid's old comrades, she had taken to Mio to a far greater degree than before...and had become strangely averse to Dirk's presence. (Oh, how little either of them had known...)

Most tellingly, instead of letting her flickering blue hair fall in an elaborate curtain down to her shoulders, she had taken to just bundling it up in a simple ponytail, usually to the side.

These changes had not gone unnoticed.

("Are there times where you feel different?" Papa Aegaeon had asked, one day; Auntie and Mama were both absent, meeting with someone from the other world: a Kevesi Homs by the name of 'Dunban'. "If you ever feel the need to speak, do not hold back on my regard." Where before, a little voice in the back of her head would have spurned such kindness as being undeserved...now, she simply nodded, accepting it for what it was.)

As steps were slowly put in place to fully re-integrate with their separated brethren, Sena had wondered about her memories — if they could even be called that, instead of phantom sensations — of that mysterious world of Aionios.

("You seem to have retained a great deal of development from your time in that place," Mama Brighid had mused one day, whilst they waited for Mòrag and her brother to finish their discussions with Queen Nia and Queen Raqura regarding various matters of importance: the Nopon's seeming willingness to flout established quarantine protocols with Keves; the growing Indoline Diaspora; the increasing number of requests from various Blades to partake in the Core Crystal Reproduction process; and so on. "A shame that I wasn't there to witness it.")

Traces of sadness amidst flickers of contentment: Aionios had not been entirely pleasant. Yet, the experiences had somehow provided a foundation for Sena that she had been desperately seeking all of her life.

Part of that foundation lied not just with Mio, but with other people as well...and one individual, specifically.

("Nia and her Kevesi counterpart seem insistent that certain individuals should meet with each other," explained Mòrag, quietly running a fireproof comb through Sena's hair. For some reason, Auntie had always enjoyed these quietly intimate moments, where expectations of royalty fell away, and she could treat Sena as but a little girl...even if she was now a teenager. "One of them will be travelling here to meet you: a Machina-Homs hybrid, from my understanding. Based on how Nia described it...you two were close." There was a strange wistfulness to her voice. "It's strange. For all that Aionios should not have been, for all the troubles that linger from it amongst our armed forces...it seems some good came from it." At this, Sena could only wonder.)

And so it had come to pass: as Mio and Noah were reuniting at a dinner gathering far, far away...a private party had discreetly arrived at the Imperial Palace, comprised of two Nopon and a young man with skin colored in stark shades of gray.

"Riku need to observe moment of contact between Lanz and Sena," said a Nopon with fur of a greenish blue color, and an impressively robust brown afro. In his hands was some sort of handheld computer terminal. "Need insight into memory catalyst process-"

The older Nopon accompanying him, with feather hair and fur colored shades of cream and blond, rustled his afro. "Meh-meh, Sonnypon Riku acting big for britches! This a happy happy moment for Lanzypon; no need to treat like serious Dinobeast of a problem!"

"Meh! Hair is not for rustling-!"

The seemingly playful argument between father and son faded away, as Sena stared at the eyes of the taller Kevesi. (Like, why was he so tall?) "So...how exactly do we do this?" she asked, even as a part of her screamed to go over and glomp him. (Not tackle; not hug; 'glomp'. It was a very specific word with a very specific connotation, as she had learned long ago from Poppi.)

"You got me," said the young man with a rough accent, his hands running through white hair. Despite his intimidating appearance, his red eyes radiated with empathy. "Maybe just a handshake, to start with? People seem to think we've met before, after all."

"...I guess so." A handshake was nice and simple.

Yet, the moment her hand met his...it was as though an entire world had opened up within her mind's eye, expanding; reconnecting; enlightening.


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tO_wBSxStl8

The wariness in the young man's eyes utterly evaporated, replaced by relief; happiness; joy. "SENA!"

She must have seemed equally excited, because her voice nearly peaked. "LANZY!" she yelled, embracing the taller man in a hug that swept her off of her feet. Naturally, the moment her feet returned to the ground, she returned the favor by practically bear-hugging him upward.

"Whoa-ho!" he exclaimed, feet barely dangling above the floor. "You've still been working out, then?"

"Of course!" she replied, feeling a sense of completeness that she hadn't even known she had lost-!

There was a distinctive sound of a throat clearing. "So...you seem well acquainted." With a blink, Sena and Lanz turned towards Mòrag; while Brighid was hiding her titters with the back of her hand, and Aegaeon was resting a hand upon the hilt of his sword, Auntie seemed...strangely conflicted. "Zeke would probably be laughing at me if he were here to witness this...but I must inquire as to your intentions towards Sena, young man."

At this, Lanz seemed utterly flummoxed. "Eh? What do you mean?"

Sena, who had a lifetime of imperial etiquette and an understanding of royal intrigue backing her up, flushed with embarrassment. "A-Auntie, d-don't! It's not what you think-!"

The utter surrealty of the situation was finally enough for Brighid to loose a joyous laugh.

(And wasn't that a perfect display of Mòrag's emotions at that moment? Brighid, feeling delight at the unadulterated happiness of the family's scion; Aegaeon, intensely troubled and cautious by how familiar the newcomer was with Sena. Truly, a Driver and Blade were one.)

xxxx

Needless to say, the past days had been spent catching up under watchful eyes.

Yet, though they had both been bound by the common fate of a soldier in Aionios, their upbringing in this life had a vast gulf between them. Whereas Sena had been raised in an imperial household, Lanz — born from a Machina father and a Homs mother in circumstances beyond his knowledge — was an orphan who had been a proverbial wild Bunnit until relatively recent.

Sena: born of two Blades into a life of prestige that had nonetheless been surprisingly lonely.

Lanz: born of separate races, bound by hardship with three other orphans, recently adopted by a very gregarious Nopon. ("Can you believe it? Riku's technically my older brother now. How weird is that?!")

Regardless, their joy at being reunited was unquestionable. (Auntie Mòrag's concern about potential romance between the two...well, that was a concern to be pushed aside for now. There hadn't been enough time to wonder about such things in Aionios. But now...? Well, that was a thought for later. She was still riding on the high of having her — workout buddy; fellow musclehead; Ouroboros comrade; there were too many descriptors...! — partner back.)

Alas, as they had tried to make sense of their recovered memories...

("Ooh, we need to find Taion and Eunie! And Noah...I bet Mimi's family loves him!" Mimi's family: Rex, Mythra, Pyra, Nia, Mio, Glimmer, and...oh. Oh. "Mimi's family...her brother...what...?")

....reality had come knocking.

Which led back to the present.

"Still can't believe you grew up knowing Dirk," griped Lanz, walking towards the balcony. The city of Alba Cavanich spread out far below, sprawling over the shoulder of the Ardainian Titan. "Piss, we're high up..."

"Language," sternly remarked Aegaeon, who had taken to serving as their chaperone for the duration. (Sena knew it was necessary, as rumors were already flying about her closeness with the Kevesi visitor; even so, another part of her wanted to shout 'daaaad' and complain that her life wasn't like one of those Tantalese romance novels that Glimglam liked to read!) "And for all your trials against this 'Moebius D' in Aionios, Dirk is the son of Rex and Mythra, and is as much a friend of the family as the other children of the Master Driver. He will be afforded respect for that much."

"Never met 'Rex' or 'Mythra', but sure. Whatever," grumbled Lanz, looking down as a winged Titan slowly set down at another part of the Imperial Palace. "Cripes, is that a dragon?"

"That's Azurda, Rex's grandpa," explained Sena.

"...is Rex a dragon?"

Sena playfully thwacked Lanz on the shoulder. "Rex was an orphan like you. But Azurda helped raise him!"

Lanz cocked an eyebrow. "And how does that work?"

"It's a long story..." She was actually a bit fuzzy on the details; she hadn't had occasion to think about the backstory for Mio's dad for so long. Alas, all thoughts of such faded away, as the party of four disembarked from Azurda. Rex, Mythra, Mio...and him.

"...looks like a kid," growled Lanz, his hands gripping tightly onto the railing. "But I still wanna lay into him real bad."

"He is not the only one struggling with their memories from Aionios," cautioned Aegaeon, roughly placing his hand on Lanz's shoulder. "Not everyone was as blessed in that world as you."

"Wouldn't exactly call it 'blessed'," grumbled Lanz, who nonetheless acquiesced. "But sure, Aegaeon. Sir."

Sena simply watched sternly as the party of four were greeted by Auntie Mòrag and Mama Brighid, unsure of how to feel. So she defaulted for stress relief. "Lanzy, let's go do a workout."

"Eh?"

"If we're too tired and exhausted, then we're less likely to do something stupid if we run into Dirk!" The logic was sound and unassailable.

"...fair enough," admitted Lanz.

Aegaeon intruded on the conversation with a quiet clearing of his throat (practically indistinguishable from how Auntie would sound). "And this 'workout' would be consisting of...?" he asked, almost as a leading question.

Lanz, the poor clod, honestly responded, "Weights, calisthenics, cardio, stuff like that."

"...I see." Aegaeon's face gave no hints as to how he truly felt.

Sena, however, practically felt her hair burn from the utter embarrassment, because she could tell what Papa Aegaeon was implying, but she didn't dare protest out loud, lest she spontaneously combust. So she instead manifested a small orb of water in her hands and washed her face. "Okay! To the weight room!" she exclaimed, blustering past the awkwardness by pushing Lanz along.

"Okay okay, easy easy...!" he protested, complaining about her roughness even as Aegaeon followed along as their stoic sentinel.

(There would be plenty of time to process her feelings about everything later.)

(At least she wasn't alone in that.)

xxxx

Author's Note: We interrupt this Dirkpost with a surprise Sena!
This was a nice way of looking at Sena's canonical struggle with her identity from another perspective.

But in all seriousness, I do think that Aegaeon had a part to play in however Sena came about; notwithstanding the fact that Sena's Core Crystal doesn't match Brighid's (which means Brighid is not the sole Blade involved in her creation, given the genetic dominance we otherwise see), the presence of the ether lines on Sena's skin is another strong indicator.

But that's just a theory.

/a 'game' theory-
//"No. None of that. Shame on you."

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

Expectations could be a cruel mistress.

On the one hand, they could be a great boon for getting through life: knowing what was expected of you, of your station, of your duties, of your relationships. On the other hand, they could be shackles, weighing you down.

Expectations were impossible to avoid entirely. The struggle of life partly involved coming to an understanding about what was expected of you as you advanced to each further stage.

And yet...what if expectations changed due to circumstances beyond your control? What if they changed due to events you could not recall?

Then the struggle became twofold: not only trying to understand what was expected of you...but coming to grips with the seeming unfairness of why those expectations had changed at all.

xxxx

It was with a start that Mio, walking besides her family towards the Imperial Palace of Alba Cavanich, remembered that Sena would be here. (Would she remember anything? Did she remember anything? Mio had no way of knowing.)

Glancing at Dirk — his face seemingly relaxed, yet his shoulders were tense — she couldn't help but wonder if his memories of Sena were already colored.

A slight shift of lighter gray amidst blue and gunmetal flickered in her peripheral vision; her eyes briefly flicked up and to the right: standing at a railway was a figure with recognizable hair, even from this far away. Lanz...?! (What was he doing here? Why was he here?! Did he remember Aionios, now that he had doubtless met Sena? Sparks, did Sena finally remember? Oh Titan's foot, he was looking in their direction.) She didn't dare speak up. Didn't dare call to attention to it, lest Dirk somehow find cause to make eye contact with Lanz. Would be our luck, she grimly thought, before more motion to her left caught her attention: approaching them from the Imperial Palace was none other than Mor Ardain's Special Inquisitor and her most distinctive Blade, Brighid.

"Well, hasn't it been a hot minute," greeted Rex with a grin, gripping Mòrag's hand in his own with a hearty shake. "Thanks for agreeing to help, Mòrag."

"There are no favors between friends," she responded with an undeniable warmth, even if her face didn't reflect it. The passage of time had rendered Mòrag's face sharper and leaner, even as she had become more open emotionally: her sense of duty had remained over the years, marking her body with the tribute it had demanded in the form of stress and sleepless nights. Even so, Mòrag still managed to look surprisingly youthful. (Possible beauty tips from Kora, perhaps...ah, she was getting too mentally introspective again. Focus!)

As Rex and Mòrag exchanged pleasantries, Mythra and Brighid exchanged...lighthearted barbs. "Not getting slow in your old age?" asked Brighid.

Mythra huffed. "Still sore that Pyra managed to actually burn you?"

"You and Nia had just dunked me into the hot springs, and I wasn't expecting Pyra to come at me from behind...and calling a tap on the shoulder a burn is being generous," retorted Brighid.

(Mio remembered that little spa trip. She, Glimmer, Linka, and Sena had been so embarrassed.)

(Auntie Pandoria had cheered on the shenanigans, but that was neither here nor there.)

"Yep, definitely still sore," Mythra joked with a grin.

"No matter what life I live, you're as incorrigible as ever," murmured Brighid...before her lips curled into an amused smile.

Mythra chuckled, finally hugging her fellow Blade now that the banter over and done with. "Sorry this visit is under...less than ideal circumstances." the blonde quietly said.

(Mio's ears twitched at Dirk's quiet grunt: muffled, nigh inaudible...for the most part.)

"...so it seems," remarked Brighid, her good cheer being replaced by caution. At the same moment, Mòrag turned away from Rex; as one, Driver and Blade looked at Dirk.

For his part, the young man came off as relatively unflappable. "Frigid. Ice Queen," he said, speaking to Brighid and Mòrag in tandem. "Been a while!" he greeted with an easy grin.

Mythra impulsively bopped Dirk on the head, whilst Rex sighed. Not good timing, mentally groaned Mio.

"...speaking of incorrigible," muttered Brighid.

Mòrag simply cut through the bluster. "Hearing those silly little nicknames when your heart's not into it...is honestly quite sad to witness, young Diederik."

At this, Dirk frowned, and all the tension returned. "Ah. No time for laughs, eh? Guess I can't blame you..." Rubbing at the back of his head, he grumbled, "So, how much have you heard, Auntie?"

"Enough to know you're experiencing something that many soldiers under my purview are suffering from," Mòrag coolly replied. "Normally, the soldiers of Mor Ardain go through an established screening process for this sort of...review. But given how close our families have become, I have something more appropriate in mind. If you'll follow me." With prim and proper form, Mòrag turned on her heel, turning back towards the Imperial Palace with Brighid in tow.

Rex gave Dirk a reassuring bump on the shoulder. "Can't blame you for trying to break the ice. Pretty poor timing, though."

"I noticed," dryly remarked Dirk, even as his mother nudged him along. The young man huffed, walking forward between his mother and father; with each step, his back seemed to become more taut, akin to a coil winding up under pressure.

This could go bad in so many ways, mused Mio, briefly glancing back towards the distant balcony; Lanz was gone. I just hope Auntie Mòrag can help Dirk...

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9aXe580xn8

Dirk actually had fond memories of sparring with Auntie Mòrag.

It was no surprise, to be honest; given how close Rex's family (or, perhaps, Nia's family, if you were a stickler for the priority of royal titles) was to the head families of both Mor Ardain and Tantal, frequent spars had been not uncommon as his generation had progressed to adolescence.

(He briefly recalled a spar with Sena, from before the Intersection; her control over fire and water had been troublesome. But he had managed to get in a lucky shot with his Brightfire Spear to win the duel.)

(There had been another spar after the Rejoining; it had been him and Glim against Mio and Sena in a two-on-two. The little spitfire had seemingly eschewed the majority of her fire and water Arts, utilizing her hammer with a violence that had been uncharacteristic. Caught off guard, he had been knocked out of the arena in less than a minute.)

(But it makes so much bloody sense now, doesn't it?)

That fondness was still present, even as his irritation began to boil; with a frantic weariness, he tried parrying her Whipswords as best as he could. The Special Inquisitor wasted no movement: the very picture of efficiency. Yet this efficiency did not mean her moves were robotic, nor easy to read: her arms flowed like water and snapped like fire, acting with will and purpose. Her form was wreathed in the golden brilliance of her Affinity with Brighid, exhibiting the seamless bond with a Blade that few Drivers had ever attained.

Getting close was a practical impossibility. Mòrag — as ever — was an indomitable warrior, exuding that same sense of untouchability that Dad, Mother, Mom, Mum, and Uncle Ozzy always manifested whenever they got serious.

(You'd better get serious too, shouldn't ya? Show her who's boss.)

(It was just a spar. It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't.)

(Then why are you getting so pissed off?)

Shut up, Dirk inwardly snarled at himself, blocking a blow with both arms. With a growl, he raised his spears — "Bright Edge!" — and unleashed an orb of bright ether that burst into a storm of smaller projectiles.

Mòrag casually swung her arms in three quick motions, her Whipswords looking as a ferocious storm of corded metal. In less than a second, all of his ether spears were dispelled. "How often have you kids been told that you don't need to shout your attack names to utilize them?" To illustrate her point, her Whipswords reconnected, allowing her to concentrate her flames; azure fire splashed outward in a dense haze, blowing Dirk to the ground with a loud thud.

(There had been more force than actual heat; Auntie Mòrag's control was such that she determined what did and did not burn.)

(It was the kind of control he wished he had.)

(You don't have it because you've decided to be a loser.)

(Control...he needed to be in control...)

(How can you be in control if you don't have the guts to do what you want?)

(What...he wanted...)

Slowly rising to his feet, Dirk felt a growing urge to cut through Mòrag.

(...was to put her down. To prove his strength, in front of everyone. He wanted to be in control again.)

xx

Mòrag watched intently as young Diederik got back to his feet. There was a brief moment of apparent hesitation...before he finally looked up.

Those red eyes were full of more than just the petulant frustration of a young combatant, or the wounded pride of a cocky boy.

There was disgust; derision; vicious malice, colored with just a hint of anticipation; all simmering in a depth that only those with many years of life could attain.

It was a look that did not belong on his face.

xx

"I've seen enough." Without warning, Mòrag sheathed her weapons.

It was as though water had been dumped on Dirk's head. "...eh?" Confusion smothered his anger and frustration, which only made the messy jumble in the back of his mind and the depths of his heart more wretched. "What for? I thought...!"

"For those with a passion for the martial arts, it's easier to see to the truth of things in the heat of battle." Adjusting the brim of her cap, Mòrag glanced towards the edge of the indoor arena, where Rex, Mythra, and Mio had been watching intently. "Let us retire to my office."

For some reason, the tone of her voice unsettled Dirk.

(Had he done something wrong? What had she seen?)

"Mio, why don't you go and see Sena? I'm sure she's missed you," casually remarked Mòrag in the way of an adult telling a child to leave without being explicit about it.

The catgirl's ears perked up, even as she looked at her brother with concern. "Are...you sure?"

"Go on little lady, we'll be fine," reassured Rex, ruffling her hair with a grin.

And so it was: with Brighid serving as Mio's escort, that left only Rex, Mythra, and Dirk to follow Mòrag to her office.

As the minutes passed, the uncertain feeling had only increased; with Mòrag sitting behind her desk, and with Dirk sitting on the other side between Dad and Mother, the sensation of being called to the teacher's office felt stark. "So...what do you think?" asked Mythra.

"To provide some background: ever since the Rejoining, numerous members of the Ardianian military have exhibited traumatic symptoms that were out of character given their prior records. Exhibitions of personality changes, sometimes to the extreme; increased bloodlust, or on its opposite end, extreme terror; general confusion about who they are, or where they were; it didn't take long for us to determine that these individuals were experiencing flashes of their lives from Aionios. As you're all aware, this has not been a problem unique to Mor Ardain." With a severe tone, Mòrag looked straight at Dirk. "Tell me, young man: how long have you been experiencing memories of that place? When did the nightmares first start?"

"...you really don't hesitate to grab the Feris by the tail, eh Auntie?" grumbled Dirk. "Probably...a month or two after the Rejoining?" (He could hear Mother's hands gripping her knees tightly. He hated that he was the cause for that.) "I didn't want to be a bother, so I kept quiet. Mio and Glim seemed rather unbothered by whatever they were remembering from that world, so I didn't want to be the odd one out." With an almost snarky pout, he added, "Wasn't until Mio's otherworldly-boyfriend-slash-husband recently visited that everyone else found out."

Mòrag arched an eyebrow at his description of Noah, which prompted a perfunctory 'it's a long story' from Dad. "Interesting. Looks like being stubborn and hardheaded runs in the family."

"Hey," protested Mythra. Rex simply shrugged, not even bothering to deny it.

"With that being said, I could tell just from our little spar that you were dealing with something particularly...ferocious," Mòrag diplomatically said. "I take it whatever memories you have of Aionios would corroborate that?"

Dirk could only nod. "Mio and Mum actually remember as well, and...it's not exactly the most sterling endorsement of who I was. What with being Moebius D and all."

Mòrag nodded without judgment, glancing towards his parents. "With that in mind, I'd like your permission to bring in a specialist from Indol."

Mythra blinked at the word 'Indol', while Rex asked, "Indol? Is it someone from the Diaspora, or from the Remnant? The place is still kind of a basketcase, to put it politely." With the blasted corpse of the Indoline Titan resting at the base of the former World Tree, a not insignificant faction of the former Praetorium had taken up residence in their home's fallen body, amidst the ruins of Morytha and Torna. Said faction had refused to join New Elysium, or even explore the new regions of the world that had emerged following the Rejoining...but the story of the Indoline Remnant and the Indoline Diaspora was a tale for another time. "I still hear complaints from Adenine and her fellow explorers about 'Indoline crazies trying to block access to the World Tree' or somethin' to that effect. Makes her research trips a bit of a hassle."

"More importantly...was he close with Amalthus?" asked Mythra.

Mòrag shook her head. "This specialist is a part of the Diaspora, to answer your question, Rex. As for your question, Mythra...he was apparently a historian back when the Praetorium was still around. He was rather apolitical, apparently due to some ideological dispute with Amalthus some centuries back..."

"And he's still breathing?" dryly remarked Mythra, clearly skeptical.

"He's a rather skilled combatant and Driver in his own right. I can only imagine killing him would have been more trouble than it was worth. I suppose his willingness to stay quiet was the reason Amalthus relented...but that's only speculation on my part. He hasn't been too keen on talking events from centuries past," said Mòrag. "But for our soldiers who have been struggling with aggression more than most, his assistance has been invaluable, so I'm willing to let the past lie."

Rex hummed thoughtfully. "Interestin'. Got a name for this specialist?"

xxxx

Shortly thereafter, in a different part of the world...an Indoline man by the name of Oleg felt a handheld terminal within his pocket buzz. The mysterious Indoline quietly pulled it out, reading the message with a stoic eye. "Hmm. Another request from Mor Ardain...for the son of the Master Driver and the Aegis?" For Dirk to have actually been Moebius D; such a small world. "How interesting..." Thoughts churned within his mind as he walked through the Imperial Palace of Alcamoth; his services were in high demand in numerous places throughout the world (both the old and the new), to the point where the Queen of Keves had him on retainer.

(That he had all his memories of his many lives — or was it one continuous life that had been measured in decade-long increments? His subjective experience on that regard was admittedly murky — was probably the primary reason why Queen Melia kept paying him; it couldn't have been easy, to have untold years' worth of memories of another world...at least, not without being to commiserate with someone else.)

He eventually made his way back to his private quarters, where he had been rooming with his assistant. Said assistant had been...'preoccupied' with an old acquaintance of sorts, that Melia had insisted his assistant meet. For obvious reasons, as it had turned out.

(Melia had said it was the adopted daughter of one of her Nopon friends; instead of being another Nopon as he had expected, it had been a young woman that both Oleg and his assistant had recognized.)

Oleg, known otherwise as Teach, glanced inside towards a small couch; a young man with brown skin and dark, curly hair was lying down, sound asleep. A brown-haired female — a Homs-High Entia hybrid, judging by the length of her head wings — was draped over him, snoring loudly. Both of them were clothed, mercifully; despite whatever unresolved tension had lingered from their past lives on Aionios, his assistant had retained some sense of propriety.

He would let Taion and Eunie sleep a little longer.

xxxx

Author's Note: And that's the last two Ouroboros. I'm sure their inevitable meeting with Dirk will go swimmingly.

But seriously, Teach's backstory within Xenoblade 3 is one of the most esoteric and mysterious of all the Heroes. His whole thing with being the commander of Chi as All-Slayer Oleg, then becoming a commander of Gamma and given the name of Teach from Consul G — whose imposed vow ("To impart wisdom to those who will succeed us. To teach them of strength, and the tenets of battle. That this humble wish should spark, we pledge to never divulge the secrets of the past.") is really interesting to hear from a Consul! — as well as the implications from Ashera that Oleg remembered his past lives...I don't know, there's lots of ways his whole situation could be explored.

But I'm running with the idea that, despite being literally centuries old, Oleg somehow got caught up in the reincarnation cycle in Aionios, and is one of the reasons why his whole deal was so...quirky by comparison. (And why his memories seem a lot more...stable.) But I'm not going to go into further detail, because that's a story for another time.

/and also
//if Eunie and Taion ever reunited in the new world
///assuming they were both at least in their teens
////I bet she would immediately grab his face and kiss him senseless

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

The established order of things can be a comfort.

Yet, that order can vary between places, times, cultures, and so forth.

In the normal course of human events, there is time afforded to get used to the way things are supposed to be.

Alas, the impact of Aionios and the Endless Now was unlike most events; what irony, that a moment stretched for an eternity impacted so many in such a short amount of time.

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3U1h-S7xnE0

(If there was one thing that Eunie had missed about Aionios, it was the fact that she had 'grown up' at the same rate as her friends. That's what she would have said, had she actually remembered it as such.)

After the Rejoining, there had been a strange...sensation. A lingering phantom of a life lived, and many more forgotten besides. In retrospect, that was probably the best way to describe it.

Eunie could not recall when it had begun bothering her, seeing Noah and Jorah slowly inch up in height as adolescence crept upon them. Even Lanz, despite being partially Machina, seemed to grow akin to the Homs. (At times, she had wondered if the circumstances would have been different had Lanz been born of a Homs father and a Machina mother instead of vice-versa...but that was neither here nor there; she had never professed at being an expert in biology.)

It wasn't like it had been a new fact, either! Everyone knew that High Entia lived long.

(The orphanage's proximity to Alcamoth meant that specialists in High Entia physiology and 'childhood' development were always on hand; although the circumstances of the post-Zanza world had all but forced integration amongst the races, there were still many Homs who were unused to the slow growth of pureblood Machina and High Entia of any genetic mixture. Homs would just have to get used to the fact that some of their fellows just...didn't age as quickly.)

Eunie herself had long resigned herself to that reality, having lost her parents before the world of the Bionis had been reborn: her High Entia father to the Telethia transformation, and her Homs mother to the Telethia onslaught at the final defense of Colony 6.

(Though she had not been aware of the moment Shulk made his wish for "a world with no gods", she had witnessed its effects: things had slowed to a crawl...the titan beneath her feet had disappeared in a brilliant flash...and then she had awoken in a new world, where familiar structures remained, and the remnants of the Bionis and the Mechonis lingered throughout the oceans. However, none of that changed the fact that both of her parents had perished before the world had been reborn.)

Despite being older in terms of years than even some of her Homs caretakers, she had not begrudged that fact; it was simply a part of life. Orphans came and went; some lingered longer than others. When Noah, Joran, and Lanz had arrived at the orphanage in relatively quick succession, she had gravitated toward them rather swiftly: a little motley crew, trying to find their way through the world. She had watched the trio grow over their years in the orphanage, idly wondering when they would become taller than her. To say that she thought of them as brothers ('little' at first, then 'big' whenever someone got taller than her; applying the terms in accordance with age seemed rather silly when she was over thirty years their senior) went without saying.

Then...there had been the Intersection.

And finally, the Rejoining.

Soon afterwards, those simple 'facts of life' regarding High Entia lifespans...had begun to grate on her. Even moreso, after their impromptu adoption by Heropon Riki (who was a comrade and companion of Queen Melia, a fact that still threw her for a loop, even now).

Away from the normal routine of the orphanage, those phantom sensations had grown in severity. Most High Entia would still consider her a child; Eunie herself had often thought the same. But there were times when she would think of the fact she was over forty years, and mentally grumble 'Sparks, I'm bloody ancient.' Forty wasn't even that old for Homs!

(It had not even been a year after the quartet's adoption by Riki that Riku had passed through, busy as he was on a long-term assignment from 'Masterpon Melly': something about research and observations regarding their world's integration with that 'Alrest' place. The hairy little furball had looked intently at all four of them; then, out of the blue, he had looked at her and asked "Sisterpon not used to feeling old? Riku know well of such flustering frustration. Flustration, you could call it!" Then he had waddled off without even waiting for a response.)

She didn't know how to deal with these weird sensations. It would have also seemed out of character, to start griping to her brothers about it. Add to that her growing irritation with the indescribable feeling of being an adult trapped in the body of a young teenager, and Eunie had felt trapped in a vicious stew of spicy emotion, meatier than even the thickest Ardun steak! (She would make no apologies for food metaphors; Mamapon Oka was a fantastic cook.)

Then, three years after the Rejoining — shortly after Noah, Lanz, and Joran had turned thirteen years of age, and Eunie was a spritely forty-seven — an invitation had come to her from Alcamoth.

In her opinion, getting invited to Alcamoth was far more prestigious than Noah's invitation to Gormott, or Lanz's invitation to Mor Ardain. (Joran's lack of invitation stuck out, by comparison...but Nene and Kino had neatly sidestepped that awkwardness by dragging their 'brotherpon' on some sort of playdate with a kid by the name of 'Nikol' or somesuch.)

Meeting the Queen of Keves (such an odd name for the collective of peoples from the remnants of the Mechonis and the Bionis; it struck a chord of both nostalgia and dread) had always elicited anxiety, especially with her snuffing (which was another thing; why was she so bent on describing things with terms like 'snuff', 'spark', or 'mudder'? Where had they come from?!) guard standing watch: Tyrea, Shadow of the Empress, was not one to cross. Her wings were such that she could have easily passed for a pureblood High Entia from olden times (and sparks, the era of the Bionis and the Mechonis could legitimately be called 'olden' now; why did she feel so old?!).

Melia had been calm and collected, yet gentle; she spoke of an important emissary from the realms under the dominion of Agnus that she liked her to meet. Naturally, she didn't question it: Melia was the Queen, so her word was the proverbial law.

Needless to say, she had not expected what had happened next.

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLfx3ENiLaU

It was a party of four that Melia greeted: a man with blue skin and pale hair was at the head, clad in a well-worn outfit of blue that nonetheless evoked a past of prestige of some kind. Wrapped around his form was a serpentine dragon of some kind with shiny green scales, bearing distinctive lines of golden ether running up and down its skin; despite appearing as a mere pet, the serpent's crimson eyes glittered with undeniable intelligence. Behind the man — an Indoline, she guessed by the skin color; that's what they were called, right? — was another pair: one was a woman with fair features and a single horn of crystal protruding from her left brow; her uncovered hands and feet seemed to be formed of the same glassy blue substance. Her dark lavender hair was braided into two pigtails that hugged her head, curving into a single tail at the base of her neck; her wardrobe was equally as eye-catching, seemingly comprised of numerous paper dolls woven into a flowing gown. The woman's partner (why did that word niggle at her?) was a young man — or perhaps he was still a boy? His curly brown hair seemed a bit too thick and vibrant to be that old — with dusky skin, standing with a strange sort of tension. His outfit seemed fairly worn and rather nondescript...save for the orange ascot that clashed horribly with the whole ensemble.

Seriously, it was an eyesore.

"I don't have to justify my wardrobe to you," the young man impulsively retorted, his eyes narrowing with anger behind his eyeglasses.

...and apparently, Eunie had called it an eyesore out loud. (Seriously, what was wrong with her? She was making the Queen look bad!) Her hands clamped over her traitorous mouth, headwings curling up tight against her skull out of sheer mortification.

"You will behave yourself in Queen Melia's presence," chided Tyrea with a scowl.

The Indoline, to his credit, merely raised an eyebrow. "...I see why you wanted this meeting to occur, Your Majesty." He glanced towards the young man at his side. "Introduce yourself."

The young man practically balked. "Oleg, what is the meaning of this-?"

"It is not a trap. Not the kind you're thinking of," the man, Oleg, cryptically remarked. "Think of it as...a pleasant surprise."

The young man almost seemed offended, glancing over his shoulder at the taller woman for reinforcement; the partially crystalline woman whispered something back that Eunie could not hear, finishing with a reassuring nod and a gentle smile. This seemed to mollify the boy enough for him to move forward, even as he looked at her with undisguised suspicion.

"What's your deal?" grumbled Eunie, putting her hands on her hips. The boy was only a few inches taller than her, if that; he couldn't have been any older than fifteen, if that. Under her breath, she spoke loud enough for only him to hear. "Don't act like a brat in front of royalty; weren't you taught manners?"

"That's quite rich, coming from you," he whispered back, impulsively adjusting his glasses in a manner that seemed both practiced and yet not at the same time. "And I'll have you know I'm nearly sixty years old. I just...age very well." He muttered the last sentence almost as an afterthought, looking as though he couldn't believe he had just said those words out loud.

...well, wasn't that an admission? "Is that a fact," she murmured, suddenly feeling a bit intrigued. Now that she was focusing, she could see beyond those glasses and at the hazel eyes behind them; there was a certain wary weariness that no child could fake: the lingering shadow of tired fatigue that only came over the long march of time. "Have...we met, somewhere before?"

"I can't imagine how, given that we hail from different worlds," he replied, even though he seemed...cognizant of something. (What did he see, when looking at her?)

Finally, the serpent hanging upon the Indoline hissed with irritation. "By the Architect, just shake her hand, already."

"Qíjīlóng, Blades should be seen, not heard," calmly reprimanded the lavender-haired woman clad in paper.

"Said the Blade to a mirror, Nimue," hissed the snake-like dragon.

A silent gesture from Oleg quieted them both; even so, the Indoline added, "Is there a reason these introductions are taking so long? Is there...a problem?" (There was a strange lilt to his words; Oleg knew something, but what?)

The young man shook his head, even as he looked at her with...a sort of pseudo-familiarity. It was almost maddening to witness. "No...there's no problem."

...right, this is getting us nowhere. "Then if there's no problem, let's just shake already!" she griped, sticking her hand out. (She was acting rude in front of the Queen again; strangely, she was finding it harder and harder to care. What was happening to her?) "The name's Eunie."

"...Eunie," he repeated, testing the name almost reverently. "...I'm Taion," he replied, gripping her hand with his own.

Naturally, that was the last key to the shackles binding them. Context — exhilarating, invigorating context — finally allowed sense to be made of everything that had been plaguing Eunie since the Rejoining. "...Taion?" she replied, speaking with a cadence that her brothers would have found unusual, yet now felt so natural. "I'm not dreamin', am I?"

Taion stared with naked recognition, his lips stuck into a gobsmacked frown. "Eu...Eunie...?"

(It was him. It was her partner, her comrade, her 'fourth' best bud, and oh what a lie 'fourth' had been because she had tried being so snuffin' cute and playful, because that was a brilliant idea when they might not have ever met each other again; how could she have left so many things unspoken?!)

"...Eunie?" repeated Taion.

(That was going to be rectified immediately.)

The young man barely got another word out before Eunie grabbed his face and mashed her lips against his.

(Alas, impulse made for poor intimacy for the inexperienced.)

Pained yelps echoed through the hall as Taion and Eunie recoiled, gingerly feeling for their mouths. "W-What do you think you're doing?!" groaned Taion through his hands.

"Was trying to kiss you, you muppet," growled Eunie, her teeth aching from the sudden collision.

"In what universe does that count as a kiss?!" he retorted.

"It's the thought that counts!" she shot back.

(Little did she know, but Queen Melia was giggling with great amusement at their emotional outburst. Tyrea, shaking her head and muttering something about 'uninhibited ingrates', was far less amused.)

xxxx

(Not exactly her finest moment, Eunie would later admit to herself.)

Still, she would be forever grateful for those who had conspired to bring about this reunion.

The prior night had been spent...talking, for the most part; catching up; trying to make sense of their memories from Aionios; coming to fresh realizations about the nature of being so long-lived, even as they had memories of living for no more than ten years at a time.

Perhaps that, more than anything, was what had irked Eunie so over these past few years. She had once been resigned to the reality that she would naturally outlive Noah, Lanz, and Joran; now, that fact filled her with dread.

(She still didn't quite get what it meant to be a 'Blade Eater', but it apparently was the reason Taion grew at such a slow rate relative to others. That fact...was somewhat mollifying.)

Yet, she couldn't exactly help it; reality was reality. How she dealt with going forward was now a matter of perspective.

Those thoughts and more circulated through Eunie's mind as she quietly stared at Taion's face; it was almost a game, trying to identify the expressions that were more 'Alrest-y' versus those that were more 'Aionios-y'. His more childish face made it easier in one sense, yet his longer lifespan had afforded him greater aptitude at masking his feelings. Then again, she was much the same: a proverbial teenager by High Entia standards, yet with a mind that had integrated (somewhat) with a soldier's consciousness that was younger in some ways yet older in others, all while having lived as many years as a middle-aged human. It was honestly a small wonder that she hadn't gone bonkers by now.

(...okay, maybe she was a little bit bonkers. She had to be, because looking at Taion made her insides feel a little gooey. Not that she'd ever say that out loud. Queen's wings, she was so grateful they couldn't Interlink anymore, because there was no way Taion would ever let her live those thoughts down.)

"...you're staring, Eunie."

(And apparently he was now awake. Goodie.)

"What? Is there a problem?" she retorted, belatedly realizing that she was quoting herself.

"...no," admitted Taion. "Not at all. Not now."

...ah, snuff this. Eunie quietly adjusted herself, wrapping her arms around Taion's neck in an embrace that must have looked childish from afar. "...say, you know I was trying to be funny, right? With the whole...'fourth best' thing."

"...in retrospect," Taion slowly admitted.

"...you know what I meant though, right?" He was a smart fellow. He had to understand by now.

At this, Taion slowly returned the gesture, resting his hands upon Eunie's shoulders. "...I think I do."

"...glad we're all set on that, then," murmured Eunie, simply enjoying the moment for what it was. (One treasonous part of her whispered "babies~". The rest of her violently shoved that part away, inwardly shouting that "now's not the time!")

xx

Alas, reality was reality...and reality came knocking.

Almost quite literally, as Oleg entered the guest quarters with little fanfare. "We have a new assignment, Taion."

Eunie resisted the urge to grumble as Taion sat up, his hands impulsively smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. "Yes sir, Teach...I mean, Oleg, sir. Um..." Taion seemed flummoxed by how exactly he should refer to his erstwhile senior.

Oleg ignored it completely. "I believe you're both aware of an individual by the name of Moebius D, correct?"

Amazing, how a single name could bring the mood down. "Why? Is he still causing trouble, even in this new world?!"

Oleg flatly replied, "It depends on what you mean by trouble. Though, I suppose you might find it more troublesome that he's actually the brother of Mio, among other things."

Eunie (and Taion for that matter) was stunned into utter silence. But not for long. "....are you sparkin' kidding?!"

(Oh, how simple her worries had been just yesterday...)

xxxx

Author's Note: Fun fact — remember the little tiny Homs/High Entia hybrid by the name of Teelan? The one with the long sidequest in XC1, and the actual plot focus in Future Connected?

That little guy was 42 years of age in XC1, and 43 in FC.

Given similarity of heights, that's why I think it's reasonable to think Eunie (at least, the Eunie that we saw in Alcamoth at the very beginning and the very end of the base game of XC3) is also in her 40s, since it wouldn't have been long enough for the remaining High Entia bloodlines to have diluted out entirely after all the purebloods turned into Telethia. Given that Melia herself was over 80 years old as of XC1 despite having Homs gene integration of 80%, this implies the longevity imbued by High Entia genetics are a very prominent trait.

Naturally, this provided a good avenue to explore how someone with an extended lifespan would deal with remembering a life where they literally lived only ten years, while growing up at a normal human rate to boot.
As for Teach, his Unique Blade — Qíjīlóng — is Chinese for "miracle dragon". Given his class name of Thaumaturge and his Chain Art of 'Dragon Unbound', it felt appropriate.

 

[JimmyWolk]

I still keep forgetting that Taion is at least part Blade, so the setup had me a bit nervous. 😅

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

I still keep forgetting that Taion is at least part Blade, so the setup had me a bit nervous. 😅

Click to shrink...

Judging by the reviews I'm getting on AO3, practically no one else has written a post-XC3 story where Eunie ages as a High Entia would.

/her growing at normal human rates
//is apparently either ignored
///or handwaved away

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

Even if two worlds had become one — truly one — in the wake of the Rejoining, their pasts had not been forgotten.

That was a fact that Oleg was grateful for: it was the past that gave context to the present, and gave a means to determine which way the future could go.

After all, it would have been quite inconvenient for his life (or lives, if one wanted to be pedantic) in Aionios to have overridden his former life in Alrest.

Fortunately, it seemed as though his personality in Aionios — bereft of all context beyond that engineered by Moebius — had been rooted in who he had been as an individual in Alrest...

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvpLYZg5LO4

Less than a hundred years after the signing of the Osirian Treaty, which officially prohibited the Idoline Praetorium from interfering in wars between other nations, Praetor Amalthus quietly confronted Quaestor Oleg within the Archives of Indol. "You've been rather quiet of late," calmly remarked the Praetor; despite his sterling reputation and otherworldly persona, the lighting of the Archives rendered Amalthus as though he were in a dim shroud.

The other Indoline occupant, sitting at a desk crowded with old parchments and books, seemed as a living shadow by comparison. "I believe that was at your request," calmly remarked Oleg, his relatively youthful face belying eyes that seemed surprisingly old. "After all, you needed to be sure that the Blade Eater process would still work after your...refinements." As he spoke, he quietly rolled up the scroll he had been reading, revealing that it bore the marks of the former nation of Torna. "A rather risky move, to bond yourself with a Blade that played a prominent role in the Aegis War; personally, a simple name change isn't enough, in my opinion. After all, who knows when the Aegises will return? If they retain any memory of that time, they would easily be able to undo your subterfuge."

Amalthus frowned, yet did not betray his true thoughts. "It just seems out of character, to so fully withdraw from society," he said, ignoring Oleg's opinion entirely.

"Even if I was thorough on my assignments, our more diplomatic brethren came to believe I was too thorough." A polite way of referring to how his past bandit eradication missions had not only included the targets, but also their supporters: financial, moral, or otherwise. "Stamping out evil at its source tends to carry a heavier cost than most would countenance. My 'newfound interest' in history was more than enough to allay their concerns."

"Many of our warrior monks miss your tutelage. Quaestor Gerodi in particular complains that the new recruits are not up to your...exemplary standards."

"When all it would take is a mere slip to reveal 'my' Core Crystal?" Oleg remarked, shifting aside both his pale hair and the edge of his quaestor cap; a crystal of sharp turquoise that had been shorn in half, its flat side embedded into the cheekbone below his right temple, gleamed in the relative gloom of the old Archives. "It would be nothing more than an elaborate form of suicide." Left unspoken was whether that would have been the intent; neither man in the room was so gauche as to say it out loud. "Though, given Indol's alleged 'mastery' of Judicium's feats, it seems quite unusual that both Blade Eaters and Flesh Eaters are so anathematized."

"You know quite well why-"

"Do not insult your intelligence or my own with the 'official' answers, Praetor," respectfully answered Oleg, rising to his feet. Amalthus, resplendent as ever, seemed to drown out the ambient light: a mere trick behind how imposing he was as an individual, or the world itself recognizing his preeminence? Given the quiet rumors amongst the oldest Indoline about what Amalthus had truly seen atop the World Tree, there was no telling where the truth ended and the lies began. "A means of maintaining control over all the Core Crystals on Alrest is what it is in effect. A very dangerous thing, given how Blades will one day evolve into Titans, if left to accumulate enough data."

There was a sudden sharpness to Amalthus's gaze; even so, his face remained perfectly placid. "I was unaware that you had a working relationship with Stannif."

"He was in his twilight years; you know how the old love to talk of their exploits. They, like anyone else, want to leave something behind," calmly remarked Oleg, folding his hands behind his back. "His recent passing was quite a shame."

"Indeed," agreed Amalthus.

(Anyone listening would have caught the subtext: one of the men in that room had arranged for Stannif's death. Which one? That was the question which no one would have been able to answer with certainty.)

"If it would please you, Praetor, I would like to impart a piece of advice. I hope that I don't come across as arrogant, for daring to help my senior in both rank and age."

"Not at all. By all means, speak." Such polite words from two men that would not hesitate to kill in an instant, should they so desire.

Oleg stood at attention, recalling all that he had learned in the depths of Indol's oldest records. The lack of categorization had been a true obstacle, to the point that one could conclude that it had been by design. "You were not wrong for bringing vengeance upon those who killed your mother." At this, Amalthus's expression finally cracked: a bit of intrigue, but nothing more. "Our census records from back then were still quite thorough. Furthermore...you were not wrong for killing the refugee who had partaken of your generous aid. One might question whether ending the life of a mere child was warranted, but that's in the distant past at this point." Now there was true surprise. Oleg explained, "An old after-action report from a Blade by the name of Minoth; his last, I believe, before you awoke Malos. It seems even in spite of his private disgust, Minoth was still dutiful in his own way."

"...I see. I suppose that is true," remarked Amalthus, who had not had cause to think about his old Blade for many years. "Your point?"

"The power you seek to control...is akin to a maelstrom: a raging torrent that will devour everything in its wake. Do you believe yourself strong enough to control it?"

"...I will be," calmly admitted Amalthus, with a confidence born from secret zeal. "Such is the Architect's Will. After all...a maelstrom is quite effective at, how did you put it? 'Stamping out evil at its source'."

"It can. Yet a maelstrom cares not for what it destroys: good or evil, everything is swept up in its wake. Unless you believe that humankind are inherently beyond saving?"

Amalthus seemed truly amused by Oleg's words. "After all you've seen of this world, and read of its history...what other conclusion is there? They will never change."

Oleg pondered those words. (Inhaled, as he felt Amalthus locally activate Haze's power from the portion of Core Crystal embedded in his forehead. Exhaled, as his muscles worked without the aid of ether, primed to move at a moment's notice.) "Then I suppose...we'll have to agree to disagree." With quiet ease, he casually walked towards Amalthus, coming to a stop by his side. Extending his hand towards an old pot filled with ancient maps, Qíjīlóng slithered out with a silent hiss.

Amalthus arched an eyebrow, intrigued at the serpent apparently being able to move at all. "How curious."

"The ability of Haze to limit and restrict the power of a Blade was less effective if the Blade did not use any Arts."

"I believe you meant Fan la Norne."

"Of course. My apologies," said Oleg, not apologizing in the least. As Qíjīlóng coiled around his body until he came off as a loosely tied scarf, he added, "Still, it would be something for you to practice, perhaps?"

"...perhaps," relented Amalthus. "A shame that you will be leaving the Praetorium; your services will be missed. I would be more than happy to provide you a security detail, at least for the first part of your journey."

It was not a request, but a demand. Any refusal would mark Oleg as a target for the rest of his days...and that was taking it for granted that he would make it out of Indol at all. All it would take was a word from Amalthus — for his word was law — and his death would be assured. (And yet...Oleg would not go down easy, and the blood he'd shed would be a scandal that not even Amalthus could keep quiet. Both men knew it: thus, a mutual ceasefire was the most optimal solution for both.) "Your kindness is appreciated, Praetor. I'll try not to bore them."

For once, Amalthus seemed genuinely amazed; for the briefest of moments, the tension between two murderers — each close enough that they could reach out and slice an artery in the neck with but a finger — flickered. "For one with such strength and poise, you seem remarkably disinterested in power."

Oleg could only bitterly smile. "On the contrary, I'm quite interested in power: the power to act; the power to teach; the power to change. It is a terrible power...and I'm not quite sure I'm worthy of wielding it. A thought for you to ponder...maybe, one day, you will encounter someone with the power to change even you."

"...wouldn't that be the day," replied Amalthus, giving no further indication as to what he was thinking.

Thus did the two Indoline exit the Archives; Oleg pointedly did not pay attention to the fact that successive patrols were rendezvousing near their rough location. A pure coincidence, surely (and not at all a contingency in case Amalthus's conversation had gone poorly).

Within the hour, Oleg would depart Indol with a company of four warrior monks, off to explore and wander the furthest and most remote reaches of Alreast.

It would be a decade until Amalthus would relieve them of their duty; they would remark that it was among their most quiet and boring work ever. Amalthus, privately of the belief that Oleg's silence was more or less assured, would have spies continue watching Oleg from afar for decades more.

(Oleg would not set foot on Indol again...not while the Praetor was alive, at least.)

xxxx

...truly fortunate, indeed.

Oleg often pondered, in light of what came centuries later, if he should have tried harder to strike down Amalthus. Much suffering would have been avoided, that was true...yet suffering in and of itself was not the end all and be all. (That was also notwithstanding the fact that, even accounting for superior martial prowess, Oleg had been unsure if he would have been strong enough to defeat the Master Driver. A man strong enough to forge a bond with a Blade like Malos...was not one to take lightly.)

Had it been a naive hope, thinking that someone would come along that could rouse Amalthus from his slothful malaise? Had Oleg been a fool, thinking that it was not the place of a mere murderer to bring about change in another murderer?

Maybe.

His assistant had certainly been of that opinion...

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7xL77-QOy8

Little did Oleg know, but it was nearly twenty years before a human by the name of Rex — a boy not yet born — would become the Driver of the Aegis.

What Oleg did know was that it was five years since he had taken a young Blade Eater under his protection.

(The circumstances by which Taion had become a Blade Eater...well, that was a tale best told by the boy.)

On a distant 'island' of the Leftherian Archipelago, the company of four — Oleg, Qíjīlóng, Taion, and his Blade Nimue — quietly ate a simple dinner of roast fish beneath the stars.

"Even after all these years, I still find it odd to eat when I don't need to," remarked Nimue.

"Ether suppression is still a threat to us," hissed Qíjīlóng as he swallowed a fish whole. "Not as bad as if we were Flesh Eaters, but energy is energy. Be grateful for a biological constitution that allows us to eat at all."

Nimue arched a fine eyebrow with amusement. "Just as wordy as your Driver." Qíjīlóng hissed with irritation, which only made the woman smile.

Taion — having looked like a ten-year old for the past five years, with practically no growth in the meantime — seemed less enthusiastic about his food.

"Eat, boy," said Oleg. In response to Taion's mulish silence, he added, "Still thinking about my words from earlier?"

"...'if you had a chance to come face-to-face with the source of your miseries, what would you do'," he said, quoting his Indoline protector. "...who was it that you faced? Was it Amalthus?"

"Perceptive," calmly praised Oleg.

"No one else would fit the profile; why else would an Indoline Blade Eater be an exile for as long as you have?" It was uncanny, how erudite Taion came across; it was always an 'out of the mouths of babes' moment with him. Vexing, for someone who would have otherwise been a young adult to still appear so young; to be caught up in the ravages of puberty for such an extended period. "...why didn't you do it?"

"Be specific."

Taion frowned, his boyish face doing little to hide his emotions. "Why didn't you kill Amalthus? I've seen you fight; you're strong. And don't tell me that same nonsense about worrying about the person replacing him potentially being worse."

"...that is true, to an extent. We lack the power to predict the future with certitude," admitted Oleg, quietly looking into the fire. He wondered how his own green eyes appeared in the flickering light. "But the cost would have been great. Slaying Amalthus, if I had even been successful, would have meant pitting myself against the entire Praetorium. I would have had to fight and kill many of those I considered comrades and old friends, just for the sake of surviving."

"Why not just run?" 'Like me', Taion didn't say.

"Not from within the Praetorium; I would have been surrounded on all sides. Besides...I wanted to live." A simple motivation, yet no less true. "By leaving, I spared the lives of many who would have otherwise died. By living, I was able to eventually come across you. But then you might counter that, had I slain Amalthus, the circumstances behind you becoming a Blade Eater would never have come to pass. Asking 'what if' can consume the mind if left to its own devices for too long, Taion. Best to focus on what's in front of you...and preparing for the future."

Taion still wanted to argue, his lips curling with frustration. "Then why not actually reveal the truth about Amalthus? Why not take evidence with you from Indol? You could have done something!"

"And all that would have done is confirm Amalthus in his paranoia, removing all incentive for him to change," countered Oleg. "Power makes a mockery of us all...Amalthus is no different."

"Then what are you going to do about it? Are you going to just linger on the edge of society forever? Hide in the shadows?" Nimue placed a hand on Taion's shoulder, calming his ire somewhat.

Oleg smiled bitterly. "The paths I've walked over these long years are...many. There are people I've interacted with that you will never know, whose effects I'll have no way of measuring. Instructing people how to confront power...to come to terms with it in their own way...that's all I can do."

Taion sat in silence for a while, before eventually replying, "I think you do yourself too little credit, sir."

Oleg chuckled. "I appreciate the vote of confidence. I doubt those I killed during my long life would agree. But I suppose that's the way of things, in this world, gripped by war and competing powers..." A trace memory from not too long ago emerged. "I'm reminded of a lesson I imparted to a pair of mercenaries I encountered, years before I met you. In a war...power is the deciding factor, more than 'right' and 'wrong'; everyone is fighting for their own reasons. The power they wield, however, can differ, and change...and understanding that power is necessary to fight your war, lest you be doomed. Who's right and who's wrong...such questions are left for the future to decide. In the moment, you can only protect what matters most." Tossing fish bones into the fire, he added, "One of those mercenaries was a man by the name of Cole; he laughed and appreciated the reminder." It was interesting, to see how age had ravaged Minoth so, even back then; he wondered if the Flesh Eater had found some form of peace since then. "And his Urayan comrade, Aquila...he seemed rather thoughtful. I'd like to think I at least made an impact, in the short time our paths crossed."

(Oleg would have no way of knowing just how much his words to Aquila Paronet Sol Esteriole — better known to most in those days as Vandham — would mean, or how far they would reach.)

"...so what does that all mean for me?" asked Taion. "Why take me under your tutelage, then?"

"Because you have power, and you yearn for understanding. Teaching you to confront that power is reward in and of itself. As for how you'll use that power...well, who knows what the future will bring. I'm sure you'll find a war worth fighting."

The young Blade Eater huffed. "No thank you. I'd rather not fight if I could help it."

"Then you'd best work on your endurance," playfully chided Nimue, as an older sister would deride a younger brother. "I am timing your morning marathons, after all."

Taion seemed taken aback by those words. "W-What?! Nimue, come on...!"

Oleg smiled, leaning back against a hard boulder; the night sky glittered, and the World Tree shimmered in the distance. "If you're strong enough, you'll always be able to run," mused the Indoline Blade Eater to himself. Architect...I wonder what you see when you look down upon us?

(He would never know.)

xxxx

...and perhaps rightfully so.

Yet, the past was the past; it could not be changed. His decisions with regards to Amalthus had been made, for good or ill.

Amalthus had confronted power; in his pessimism and his unwillingness to change, he had been consumed by it.

Oleg had confronted power; in both Alrest and in Aionios, he had learned to change.

Applying that wisdom to those struggling with their own startling changes, wrought by memories of a world frozen in time...well, that was only par for the course.

xxxx

Oleg mused on those thoughts, and more, as the tiny Titanship set down near the Imperial Palace of Alba Cavanich. It had been some days since he had departed Alcamoth; Taion, naturally, was accompanying him. To no surprise, Eunie had brashly blustered her way into tagging along. With Qíjīlóng draped over his shoulders and Nimue quietly serving as Taion's proverbial shadow, their company cut a somewhat imposing appearance.

"Eunie, just promise me that you'll behave yourself."

"Taion...I promise not to punch him."

"Worryingly specific..."

Mostly. Clearing his throat, Oleg spoke aloud to his younger compatriots, even as their escort — Aegaeon — approached from the Palace doors. "Remember: our task is to assist Dirk with confronting his memories of Aionios. From my understanding, he is not the same as the one you knew as Moebius D. Above all, remember that we are guests." Shooting a glance at Eunie, he added, "Your behavior is a reflection on Keves; I would hate for rumors to get back to Queen Melia."

Eunie pouted, even as Nimue hid a titter and Taion shook his head.

Oleg accepted her acquiescence. "Then let us be off."

xx

When Aegaeon escorted them to a training arena, they arrived to the sight of Dirk and Lanz whaling on each other.

Taion and Eunie gaped.

Oleg simply hummed. "About what I expected."

xxxx

Author's Notes: Come for the Dirk Crack, stay for the Oleg Lore.

But as you can see, Dirk ain't the only destroyer with remorse.

I don't know if it's ever said definitively what the particular age range is for those trapped in Moebius's cycle for rebirth. Given the oddness with Teach in XC3, I'm running with the idea that the system wasn't perfect (the fact that there were memory leaks even amongst Homs from one life to the next), so those with naturally longer lifespans got a bit...funky.

 

[kip]

the side story is nice... but any chance the rot might push you past the homecomming ceremony in the main section?

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

the side story is nice... but any chance the rot might push you past the homecomming ceremony in the main section?

Click to shrink...

In what sense?

 

[kip]

In what sense?

Click to shrink...

the long month chapters last one being Valdi's to be specific...

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

the long month chapters last one being Valdi's to be specific...

Click to shrink...

Oh. That.

/I'd kinda blanked on those to be honest XD
//this whole "Dirk is Mythra's kid" idea has jettisoned pretty much everything else for the time being

 

[kip]

Oh. That.

/I'd kinda blanked on those to be honest XD
//this whole "Dirk is Mythra's kid" idea has jettisoned pretty much everything else for the time being

Click to shrink...

no problem i was just curious.

 

[Ultra Sonic 007]

Author's Note: So I sort of got so used to referring to Melia as Queen because of XC3, I completely forgot that she's also Empress of the High Entia. (Hence the whole Tyrea being 'Shadow of the Empress' thing.) Erm...

Time for an Author's Saving Throw!

xxxx

Change was an inevitable part of life for any individual.

If it was inevitable for individuals, then it was likewise inevitable for other groups comprised of such: families, clans, companies, guilds, villages, towns, cities, nations, and societies one and all.

How one responded or adapted to those changes was a testimony to their character.

("It is quite interesting, the variances and similarities," Melia remarked to her counterpart across dimensions. "For multiple nations to establish an alliance, yet delegate ambassadorial responsibilities to a first-among-equals...and even then, only in recognition for your contributions to saving the world." Even as Nia protested against the fact she had been made a queen at all, Melia could only smile at the parallels.)

For Melia, her decision to adopt the title of 'Queen' had been driven as much by pragmatism as it had been by diplomacy.

("I am not abandoning my title of 'Empress of the High Entia'," calmly said Melia, cutting off Tyrea's tirade in its tracks. "However, even with Alcamoth serving as our proverbial capital...our people are still a shadow of the empire it once was. Now we are part of a collection of races, voluntarily uniting as one nation with one face towards our counterparts from another world." Melia looked out over the balcony of Alcamoth, which loomed over the town below: Homs, Machina, High Entia, and Nopon alike all mingled in harmony...or the closest thing to it. "If Queen Nia is the representative of the peoples of Alrest, then it only seems fitting for the representative of the peoples of Bionis and Mechonis to be likewise." Left unsaid was the matter of potential perceptions of a power imbalance, especially since Nia counted a Queen, a King, and an Emperor among her dignified compatriots. "In the end...a title is merely that: I am still tasked with leading us into this new era regardless.")

Even the names of the alliances, chosen before the Intersection, had been a reflection of that adaptability.

(It was a late night, mere months before Origin would activate; two women quietly conversed, thinking about hypothetical scenarios. That night, they spoke of what to do if their worlds became one in the aftermath. "It is strange, looking to history for inspiration," remarked Melia, when Nia had gone on a tangent regarding herd animals which no longer existed. "The amount of information Shulk has pulled from Ontos's memory...it's almost like looking into an entirely different world." The night slowly waned, and they still talked; an understandable feeling, given how their dreams had recently been plagued by the possibilities of failure. "That would be...a truthful portrayal of our circumstances," sleepily murmured Melia, resisting the urge to yawn. "Two words for 'lamb' from long dead languages...two lambs coming back together, again becoming one flock...it would be fascinating to witness." Alas, how little did either of them know that these names for their respective alliances — born from minds addled with bouts of stress and insomnia — would become cemented by the Endless Now.)

It was said that those who did not adapt would die. Yet was remaining stalwart and unyielding in the face of change an inherently bad thing, if it meant remaining true to oneself?

(Even after the world had been reborn without gods...even after the Intersection, and the Rejoining...many problems remained. Melia vented as much to her friend Fiora, one day. "Even though we no longer war with each other...the struggles of life still manifest," she remarked, quietly sipping her friend's tea. "Sickness; pain; strife; vice; even in this new world, imperfection remains," she mused, wondering just how much Shulk thought of the same thing. Yet, Fiora's hope — born of her own hardship — still served to invigorate. Melia thought of her friends, and swore to keep standing. "No matter what this new era brings, I will not falter. We'll do our utmost to ensure this world will be worth living in for all who come after us.")

And so it was for Melia; just as it was for so many others: some responded to change by changing themselves.

Others responded by becoming more steadfast in who they had already been.

Whether that was good or bad...is beyond the scope of the present to render a just verdict.

xxxx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3U1h-S7xnE0

Lanz had always considered himself to be a fairly simple sort.

Even when others around him had marvelled about the possibility of Homs and Machina bearing hybrid offspring, he hadn't paid much attention to it. People were people, after all.

(His first memory of the orphanage involved a question: why was he here? The caretakers had looked a little uncomfortable; an elderly lady promised to tell him when he was older. He had left it at that, taking the caretakers at their word.)

People could be good, but people could also be rotten; that's why it was important to have people you could count on, and why you had to look after those who had no one to turn to. It was only proper, right?

That mentality had become grounded in a strange foundation, once the worlds had become one. Even as he grew, he became further settled into who he was as an individual (even as he privately thought Noah, Joran, and Eunie were starting to act a bit wonky). Sure, his newfound love of working out had been a bit odd at first, but who didn't want to be fit and muscular?

(It was after the Rejoining — shortly after Lanz, Noah, Eunie, and Joran had been adopted by Riki — when his new brotherpon brought him a handheld terminal. On its display was the story of an old incident from when Lanz had been very young: during a time of unusual fever that had rendered many people ill, a band of opportunistic Igna and Tirkin raiders had made for the high seas with whatever they could steal. The article continued with details about the casualties of the raid: the picture of a male Machina and a female Homs among those who had died struck a chord: a brief flash of faces, with photographic clarity. "What happened to 'em?" he asked. Brotherpon Riku had calmly explained that the Igna responsible had been put down by local security forces in the aftermath, along with the rest of the monsters that hadn't managed to escape. "So those mudders got what they deserved? Then I guess that's that, then." When Riku had inquired as to whether he felt a desire to seek revenge against those who had escaped, Lanz could only shrug. "Wouldn't know where to find them. I mean, if I happened across 'em, I'd wallop 'em good. But what would Noah, Joran, or Eunie think if I went off by lonesome? Can't do much of anything on my own." He wasn't sure if that bit of self-deprecation was what Riku had been looking for, but his brotherpon had simply nodded before waddling away. Big Bro Riku was cryptic, like that.)

Now, after reuniting with Sena, and coming to an understanding of what the foundation was — life in Aionios, amidst an endless war, where he had worn a mask of abrasive, reckless confidence over a weary heart — Lanz could not help but wonder if Riku had foreseen the current situation.

Because sparks, was it difficult to ignore the fact that a kid wearing Moebius D's face was walking around the Imperial Palace of Mor Ardain without a seeming care in the world.

"Lanz. You're staring again."

Lanz blinked, looking over his shoulder at Mio. (There was a brief flash of images: an older Mio in white; an older Mio with long hair, clad in silver armor; Mio, dissolving into golden motes of light.) "Ah. I mean, uh...you can't exactly blame me, can you?" Mio's gaze followed his as he looked back at the arena; it was one of the private ones — with tall walls and various balconies from which one could observe — exclusively for use by the Imperial Family, their trusted guards, and guests of their choosing. At this time — under the watchful eyes of Brighid and Mythra — Sena and Dirk were sparring.

From Mio and Lanz's perspective, the combatants' shouts echoed in their ears.

"-you're starting to slow down, Sennie!" exclaimed Dirk as he barely wove in and around Sena's mallet.

"Stop being such a Dirkinhead and let me hit you!" protested Sena, her hammer smashing down with enough force to send a wave of ether at her opponent.

"Better a Dirkinhead than a hothead!" joked Dirk with a grin as he leapt above the ether wave. "Speaking of which, you ever gonna use your fire? Might actually singe my clothes, since you ain't hitting me otherwise!"

Sena's answer came in the form of a roar, as she finally used an Art that unleashed a burst of blue fire.

"...it feels weird, seeing her use fire," murmured Lanz, tilting his head out of curiosity. "I mean, it seems right, given that her hair's on fire. But...you know what I'm getting at?"

Mio simply nodded; that was enough for him.

Even so, as the duel came to an eventual end, and Brighid passed out pointers, Lanz couldn't help but growl at Dirk.

"Lanz," warned Mio.

"I know...it's just hard. I keep looking at him, and all I see is Moebius." (Another flash: of a crimson and violet giant with knives for teeth; a pale and haggard man, staring at them with haughty eyes and a malicious grin.)

"And when I look at him, I see Moebius." Mio leaned on the balcony rail, staring intently at Dirk. "But I also see my brother; a member of my family; someone I love."

With those words, she sounded so much older than the little teenager she appeared to be. Lanz wondered if Noah would have seemed just as off-putting. "...sounds awful."

"It is. But I put up with it because he's trying. So please...don't try and antagonize him."

Lanz ran a hand through his hair, grimacing with annoyance. Snuff, Mio had a point. "Fine. But if he starts something..."

"...if he starts something, at least keep a cool head," she relented, placing her hands on her hips. "Because he's my brother, I know that he can be devilishly annoying when he puts his mind to it. He apparently gets it from Mum."

Lanz nodded, slowly looking with curiosity at Mio. "Right...still feels weird to think about how Queen Nia's your mother...how does that whole 'three moms' thing work out, anyhow?"

Mio shrugged. "It's all I've ever known; it helps that they all love my father. But I'm curious about what getting adopted by Riku's father feels like."

"Heh, it feels awesome," boasted Lanz, subtly glad that they were moving onto a different topic. "You should see him when he wrestles with all us kids; he's unstoppable!"

"He doesn't let you all win every once in a while?"

"Comes with being the 'Legendary Heropon', apparently," admitted Lanz. "Plus, no matter how much we go at him, he never goes down. Dadapon's a snuffing tank."

(It was a safer topic of conversation, to be true...but conflict was inevitable.)

xxxx

It was a few days later — with Oleg en route to Mor Ardain with Taion and Eunie in tow, not that Lanz was aware of this — when Lanz's temper finally boiled over. (It was for a good reason, honest.)

It had been at a private dinner; Mòrag and Aegaeon were absent, so Brighid and Sena were the only imperial 'representatives' with them. With Rex, Mythra, Mio, and...Dirk...likewise present, it guaranteed lively conversation...

xx

"It's weird to think about Sena being some workout junkie in Aionios," remarked Mythra between bites.

"Hey," protested Sena with a pout.

"To be fair, you were a bit of a wallflower," remarked Rex, only to get elbowed in the side by Mio. "Not that that's a bad thing, mind you," he quickly corrected.

Sena pouted. "I feel like I'm being picked on."

"It's easy to do. You are so very tiny, you know," joked Dirk with a strangely bitter smile. "So very easy to pick up-" A chunk of meat in sauce smacked his face. "Oi! Whatever happened to royal etiquette?"

"She has my sanction to do so," calmly remarked Brighid, intentionally not looking at Dirk.

(Lanz frowned, but said nothing,)

xx

"So, Mimi...how's Glimglam doing?" asked Sena. "Is she, like...well..."

"Think of your words before speaking, dear," advised Brighid out of routine.

Mio seemed to understand the intent, fortunately. "She's...not too different, I think. Even though she was an Ouroboros, I don't know if her partner would be around to spark any recollection..." Her eyes turned towards her father.

Rex diplomatically sipped his water.

"You know," said Mio.

"I 'might'. Whether Glimmer wants to or not is up to her to decide," he assuaged. "Just like it was yours and Noah's choice to meet each other. Besides, I'd have to clear it with the lad's father before arranging any playdates."

Dirk audibly scoffed, cutting into his Armu steak with just a bit more emphasis. "Glim seems fine to me. Not like she should be in any hurry to change."

At his words, Mio and Rex said nothing. Mythra huffed, looking somewhat tired. Sena looked suddenly a bit despondent, turning towards Brighid to ask about something else as a distraction.

(Lanz's frown deepened, but he still said nothing.)

xx

As the main course wrapped up, Rex asked, "You know, I've always wondered; why is the Imperial Palace called 'Hardhaigh'? Was he some kind of ancestor?"

Brighid, with great deliberation, wiped her mouth clean with a napkin. "According to my journal, I actually looked into the origin of the name a few lives ago. From what I could gather from the Empire's best linguistic historians of the time — which included Adenine, believe it or not — the word is actually traced to an older language which is no longer extant in our day. 'Haigh' apparently once meant something akin to 'a person who lives near an enclosure'." She sipped her tea delicately, letting the words settle. "Adenine was apparently convinced the enclosure was specifically either hedged or fenced, but she lacked the records to prove it one way or another."

"...maybe Adenine can find it out from the World Tree the next time she goes," murmured Rex to himself.

Dirk suddenly snorted. "So you're saying that this is the Palace of People who Live near the Hard Enclosure? Bit on the nose, ain't it?"

"...my past self was under the same impression, admittedly," relented Brighid.

"What, and you aren't?"

Brighid answered Dirk's retort with another pointed sip of her tea. The boy laughed, sounding a tad cocky at the implicit admission.

(Lanz's frown was functionally a scowl; however, he still held his peace.)

xx


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1MjzH-UaBU

It was while they were eating dessert — some kind of pastry, with cream cheese and pepper jelly to dip it in — that Dirk finally asked Lanz a question. "You done looking at me?"

"Say what?" retorted Lanz, not appreciating the accusation.

Mio placed a hand on her brother's shoulder to mollify him, but it was too late. "You've been sneaking glares at me ever since I got here. If you want to say something to me, then say it."

Lanz felt more than saw Sena's imploring gaze (and wasn't that a wild thought, to think that Sena would try and stop a confrontation not just for his sake, but for Dirk's as well. The sheer contradiction was infuriating), even as he replied. "Fine. You've probably gathered that I remember you from Aionios, then."

"Clearly. It's the only reason I can imagine you being so buddy-buddy with Sennie," Dirk blithely said.

(A flash of images filtered through, like photos: Sena, in all the times she called Mio by 'Mimi'; Sena, giving new names to all the kids of Colony 0; Sena, calling him 'Lanzy' with a smile that made him turn away with a strange embarrassment.) The nickname made Lanz's partially metallic skin crawl, even as he bit out, "Then you can't blame me for feeling a bit narky, seeing you gallivanting about. Looking at the person who did so many awful things...and that way you treated Joran...you can't exactly blame me."

Dirk's response, surprisingly, was sheer befuddlement. "Who the hell is Joran?"

(Mio and Sena audibly winced.)

Lanz blinked (more flashes: Joran smiling as rubble collapsed on him; Moebius J smiling as he taunted them all; Joran smiling as he faded away, with Moebius D's scream cut off by the roar of annihilation below the Cloudkeep) before he impulsively rose up. "That tears it," he snarled, teeth bared.

Dirk seemed fine with his response, since he also stood up. "Wanna settle this in the arena? You can't be too much of a scrub if Sennie's bothering with you."

"Fine by me!" yelled Lanz, even as Mio and Sena protested.

"Dirk, no yelling at the dinner table," warned Mythra, who looked intently at her husband.

Rex merely looked his son dead in the eye before cryptically remarking "Sixth Rule of the Salvager's Code. But there won't be any drinking afterwards."

Mythra rolled her eyes at his response, while Mio boggled; Lanz didn't get whatever Rex's reference was. Dirk, however, merely scoffed. "That'll be the day, Dad."

Brighid sighed, seemingly resigned to the sudden turn of events. "If we're doing this, I insist on training weapons only. No Ether Arts, either."

"I won't need 'em," said Dirk with a grin, which only incensed Lanz even more.

And so that's how the two ended up in a training arena; Lanz wielded a two-hand sword that was nearly as long as he was tall; Dirk, meanwhile, held two long daggers which were nearly on the verge of being short swords. Both weapons were constructed of a composite material with blunt edges, so they'd be worth for little more than whaling on each other. As Rex went over the rules — "it's over if we say it's over; if one of us has to stop you, you better hope it ain't Mythra that does it," and words to that effect — Lanz focused on his opponent's snarky grin. (The flash of Consul D, standing in front of the Annihilator, showing his face for the first time; the grins were identical.) It helped him focus, and was much preferable to looking over at Mio and Sena, who were each conflicted in their own way; Mio kept silent, whilst Sena was half-heartedly cheering for them both.

Utterly nauseating; the moment Mythra gave the go-ahead, Lanz roared through the sickening feeling in his stomach, swinging his sword at D (because at this time, at this moment, thinking of him as 'D' felt more proper than thinking of him as 'Dirk').

D dodged to the side, thwacking Lanz in the ribs. There was an audible echo from the collision, which made the blond curious. "Huh. You actually made of metal or something?"

"Stick around and find out!" yelled Lanz as his muscles flexed; fibers made of flesh and synthetic material — all natural, a bizarre miracle of evolution married with the design of two gods long dead — contracted, and his arms swung the sword around in a great arc. D rolled backwards, dodging once more.

Their duel was very formulaic, in its own way; Lanz swung his weapon like a bludgeon, forcing Dirk (no, he's D) to dart in and out of combat in order to get hits in. However, Lanz was durable in a way that seemed to irk D something fierce.

It was during a brief cross-up — Lanz's weapon bearing down against both of D's daggers, their forms crossed to keep the longsword from moving any further — that D let his frustration leak through. "You satisfied yet?"

"What do ya mean," growled Lanz.

"Satisfied that I ain't whoever you're remembering?"

Lanz's pause was for but an instant. (The flash of a memory: not of D, but of Riku, in a forest; Lanz had been insistent that Joran was their enemy. "And who decide that?" queried the Nopon. "Joran ever say himself? That he enemy?") But it was long enough for D to slip past and punch him in the face with a right hook. The image boiled away, replaced by anger. "You dirty mudder," Lanz snarled, throwing his longsword as through it were a javelin.

D rolled to the side, pleased as punch by the turn of events. "You're getting angry-" Pleasure gave way to shock as Lanz loomed over him; he had quickly run forward after throwing the sword, closing the distance with surprising swifitness. A downward punch sent D sprawling, his grip loosening on his weapons. "Ah, arsehole!"

"Takes one to know one, right?!" spat Lanz, glad for the change of pace.

"Piss off," yelled D, putting up his fists with a look that was measured yet simultaneously frenzied. "I don't even know you!"

"Well I know you." That seemed to anger the blond even more, and that was enough for Lanz to throw himself into the fury of fisticuffs. The two combatants were not the most adept at unarmed combat, but they clearly knew how to throw a punch at least.

And yet, as their fists kept flying, something kept bugging Lanz. (Another flash: Riku, in the forest, once again. Lanz was determined to believe that Joran was his enemy. "In absence of complete picture?" retorted an incredulous Riku. "So after meet just once, Lanz make up mind?") That that memory kept coming up was bizarre; this wasn't Joran, but D. He'd been a monster! He'd been an imposing beast in crimson and violent, lording over them with malicious eyes and a maw twisted into a perpetual smile of literal sharpness. He'd...been taller than them all, an overwhelming menace, even at the end.

Yet Lanz was taller than Dirk by a few inches at least.

That incongruity finally seemed to click, as each boy delivered a cross counter to the face of their opponent; that realization also made it click that he was snuffing exhausted. Lanz fell backwards, heaving for air, feeling sore; Dirk fell to his knees, impulsively feeling for a bloody lip. (That was another difference; D had never bled. Even when Eunie and Taion's Interlink form had cut away at Moebius D & J's limbs, there had been a clinical shower of red light, pretty in its own horrible way; not messy and gruesome and real in the way that actual blood was.) "...spark, you punch hard," Lanz admitted.


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnQl4DvujYk

"Have to, to get through the thick head of yours," growled Dirk, looking upset and confused(?), his fists trembling with a tension that Lanz had never seen with D. The blond seemed to come to a decision, gritting his teeth together before letting his hands — knuckles split open to reveal more blood — fall to the side. "It's bad enough, seeing my sisters change; seeing Mio look at me sometimes like she still can't believe I'm her brother. And Sena? First time we said hello on this trip, she nearly tripped when I called her 'Sennie', when it's all I've called her for years." The tension kept boiling up, even as the boy tried to fight it down. "And now a bloody stranger comes up with an axe to grind over stuff from a life that feels like a nightmare I can only halfway remember but can't forget. Don't you know how infuriating that is?"

(For a brief instant, Dirk's tone had sounded just as malicious as D's. Yet it was gone just as quickly.) "...sounds rough," he admitted, still looking at the blond with a measure of wariness.

"It is," bluntly said Dirk, spitting out a globule of blood and saliva onto the floor. ("You're cleaning that up," chimed in Brighid from the edge of the arena.) "We don't have to be friends. Hell, we don't even have to like each other. But I ain't this D fellow I keep hearing about. I don't want to be him. If you can't accept that...then just stay out of my way." Under his breath, his gaze briefly flickered over towards Mio and Sena, who were both silent (yet strangely looking elsewhere...?). "For their sake, if nothing else."

That was one more incongruity, more important than all the others; D had been self-absorbed in his bloodthirsty mania to an almost ludicrous degree. The thought of D doing something for the sake of someone else seemed laughable. "...I think I can do that," admitted Lanz.

And just like that, some of the tension finally leaked away from Dirk.

"...well, that was a stirring display. A bit sloppy at parts, I'm afraid."

The new voice broke Lanz from his reverie, finally turning towards where Mio and Sena had been looking. "Teach?" The two people by his side then took all of his attention. "Eunie?! Taion!?" Stunned amazement and delight quickly gave way to confusion. "...why do ya have all your Mondo stickin' to her?"

Taion and the woman next to him — wait, was that Nimue? His last memory of her was of a little munchkin — had their hands held out towards a very familiar High Entira; her body was wrapped up in paper dolls, restraining her movements with great efficacy. Only her nose and eyes were visible, but it seemed clear from the muffled yelling that she had some choice words. "Eunie wanted to interfere in your little...spar," admitted Taion, nervously rubbing a hand against the back of his head. "We decided that it was best to let things play out. She...disagreed."

"...yeah, that makes sense," admitted Lanz, belatedly realizing that five of the six Ouroboros were all in the same room. "Man, if Noah were here, we'd have the full set."

("...huh. Full set, eh?" muttered Dirk under his breath, finally turning away from Lanz to limp over towards his father and mother.)

(Resolution had been obtained, to an extent. Whether Lanz and Dirk were willing to change because of it...was to be determined.)

xxxx

Author's Notes: Serious question.

Xenoblade 3 Wiki: "Keves and Agnus mean 'lamb', which hints at the nature of how both nations are sacrificial lambs for the Consuls and their hunger for life energy."

Me: "...so what you're saying is that there's at least one member of Moebius who remembers Hebrew and Latin?"

Xenoblade 3 Wiki: "Maybe? I don't know! We're just posting trivia. Get off my back, bro!"

/also, if you couldn't tell
//I'm playing with a bit of the more 'machiney' bits of how Machina and their hybrid offspring would come into play
///so beyond the partially metallic skin, I'm headcanoning that pureblood Machina have photographic memories to an almost literal extent
////whilst Machina hybrids have it somewhat selectively