TEST DRIVE MEME

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket!

Comments

gabranth || final fantasy xii || ota (01)

[judicatus]

[ Any other man might have well celebrated being brought from the very brink of death to a place like Caer Glaem, from breathing his last to drinking his fill of unparalleled light and beauty. But Gabranth can find little to celebrate here. These gilded halls speak not to him of radiance and glory, but rather of radiance and glory to which he has no right to bear witness.

Why had he chosen to come here after all? Would death not have been a greater honor, a more fitting price to pay for all his misdeeds?

It's a question he turns over and over in his mind as he watches the merrymaking from afar, standing back against a bannered wall, still armored in full judicer's plate; his broken helm, cracked open and apart by Vayne Solidor's shearing blade, is tucked away in the crook of his arm. His dark mood is perhaps evident at a distance, as he makes no attempt to mask it on his face. Despite what he's been told, he cannot bring himself to believe that any of this is truly meant for the likes of him. ]

[notruejudge]

[Hey, that glower over there looks familiar.]

[...quite possibly because the exact same glower, plus one sort of jagged facial scar, is coming from another man in identical judicer's plate just across the way. They could be mirror images of each other, both with the same helm tucked under the same arm, if it weren't for the aforementioned scar--and the gash that isn't present on the helm of this man.]

[Basch has been in a foul mood ever since his arrival. He'd been out early, attending to some of his more menial duties as Judge Magister, when the fairies had caught his eye. Curiosity had kept him after them, and now curiosity has led him here. Away from his Lord and with only faint hope of return.]

[Foul mood.]

[He eyes the food and drink, trying nothing, keeping to the edges of the party. For the moment he's not yet noticed his mirror image.]

[judicatus]

[ Unfortunately, the odds of either twin making the other's mood any less foul are staggeringly slim, and only growing slimmer by the second. By the time Gabranth actually notices Basch's presence — not only notices him, but recognizes the scar upon his brow, recognizes the plate as his own, and deduces the only possible explanation for the combination of both — those odds might as well be non-existent.

Of course, while he can deduce some reason behind his brother's appearance as he sees him now, some questions remain — namely, why he should also have ended up in a place like this, leaving behind whatever duty Gabranth had entrusted to him with his last breaths. Some answers do occur to him, but none are to his liking, and all make his discontent grow ever greater.

So it's with a darkening scowl that Gabranth makes his way to where his brother stands. ]

Basch fon Ronsenburg!

[ He intends to find those answers, whether he likes them or not. ]

[notruejudge]

[Basch's head snaps up at the sound of his name. It's been too long since he's heard his own name, his true name, on the lips of any save Lord Larsa, and were it an unfamiliar voice his hand might've strayed to the hilt of his sword upon hearing it.]

[But oh, that voice. He knows that voice.]

[Instead he stands as if rooted to the spot, eyes widening in disbelief as his gaze settles on the man he watched die. The brother he buried, the identity he adopted and wears yet.]

Noah?

[He takes but one step toward the man, mind abuzz with possible explanations for this latest impossibility.]

Are these the halls of the dead, then, that I see you before me?

[judicatus]

[ That one step forward is all it takes for Gabranth to cut short his own approach. If this is perhaps some illusion, some trickery or hallucination conjured by his dying mind... But no, surely all that he's seen so far can be no mere dream; he's close enough now to be certain, absolutely certain that what he sees now is his own brother in the flesh.

But why?

His upper lip twitches into a snarl as he searches for the words to respond. ]

If these are the halls of the dead, then what have you done to find yourself here? What has become of my name and station, that you should now appear before me like this?

[ He takes one step closer, voice dropping to a low growl. ]

What have you done?

[notruejudge]

[The wonder at seeing his deceased brother ebbs somewhat, and Basch can feel his own ire rising in response to Gabranth's accusatory tone. He finds himself snapping back, his tone sharpening defensively.]

There was a minor disturbance in the palace--an intrusion. Creatures of a like I'd not seen before. I sought to flush them out, to discover their purpose... and instead I find myself here.

[It's a failure. Another failure in a long string of failures for the disgraced knight. Is Larsa even now being abducted as well? Basch has been cursing himself inwardly for his lack of judgment ever since arriving in this place, and having to defend himself against his own dead brother is certainly not improving the situation. Would that he could find a way out of this place, to set this right....]

[Basch is no stranger to failure, but failure without hope of redemption?]

Tell me plainly brother, am I dead?

[judicatus]

[ The palace, he says — the imperial palace, Gabranth is certain, if what he's deduced is indeed correct. But if he had died — if he had truly met his end in such a mundane manner...

Doubt clouds his thoughts and expression alike, and his gaze slides away. ]

I cannot know with absolute certainty... [ He doesn't feel like he could be absolutely certain of anything at the moment. ] But were this some land of the dead, surely that fact would make itself known in these gilded halls.

[ When he looks to Basch again, his scowl is once again renewed, though his tone remains relatively calm. Perhaps he's somewhat less willing to aim his fury solely in his direction. ]

That they speak of some chance at return would seem to indicate the contrary.

[notruejudge]

[There's a brief pause before Basch nods.]

So too thought I, and yet...

[He meets Gabranth's gaze, the end of his sentence writ plain upon his face. And yet here you are. There's a twist in his stomach as he looks at Gabranth, a dull ache for the old days when they were close and for his inability to save his own brother. For Reks, and for Lord Rasler. An ache for those who've died too young and the inexorable march of time that widens the gulf between them.]

[A gauntlet-clad hand raises and rests lightly upon Gabranth's shoulder for just a moment.]

Even should I find that this is nothing but a fever dream, it is good to see you again, Noah.