PSL; [ we could fight a war for peace ]

[genomage]

[He remembers when he had been on the verge of death, staring up at the gnarled canopy of the Iifa tree as it swayed, crumbling on all sides. Weighed with regret, his body battered with pain and wrung dry with exertion, the sense of clarity he possessed was strange and freeing. He will never forget it, even before his preemptive acceptance of his passing was proven false via his arrival to another world.

A part of him wonders if Primrose experiences that same feeling, if revelations has been imparted to her as she bleeds out and into the rug. There is the corpse of an unknown man elsewhere in the room—and maybe he’s long passed death’s threshold—but Kuja does little more than give him a passing glance as he moves to Primrose’s side instead. Though there is little alarm in his expression, very little rush to his step, his brows crimp in a way that is rare beyond more extreme bouts of emotion.]

What trouble have you gotten yourself into today? Dear flower, you’ve made a mess.

[He crouches down, silver hair framing his face as a fingertip presses gently against her skin that’s wetted itself with blood. Still warm — and she’s still breathing. Is she conscious? Kuja manages a proper frown.]

Can you hear me? At least breathe into my ear who’s done this to you — the audience can only be left hanging for so long.

Comments

[genomage]

[Kuja is pleased by that response. He doesn’t try to hide it.]

Time changes us all. For better or worse, naivety drains from us like blood from a wound. I’m glad that he has earned your wrath now, rather than your affection.

[That said, he must know-]

What is he like? When you were younger, what about him made you fall for the man?

[Is this a subject she wants to entertain? He doesn’t seem to care.]

[femmefinale]

That will remain known only to me. You can make your guesses when you encounter him for yourself.

[ She's got to keep some secrets of her own, after all. Kuja can only get so much gossip out of her. ]

[genomage]

[He frowns, dissatisfied with that answer. Primrose can’t cut off the spigot of gossip just like that. (Yes, she can.)]

Come on. Tell me. What is there to be ashamed of?

[femmefinale]

What use would it be of to you?

What happened back then in no way reflects my preferences now, were I to have any.

[ No more gossip for Kuja! ]

[genomage]

[He huffs indignantly, tossing a tress of hair that had started to spill over his shoulder.]

What makes you think it would be information I would use? Honestly, you flatter yourself.

[More! Gossip!]

Do not act as though you’d be any more forthcoming if I asked about your current preferences. You are a closed book, Primrose, and I am merely trying to pry open your pages.

[femmefinale]

An open book is quickly read, finished and discarded. Perhaps I don't wish for you to tire of me just yet.

[ Deep words for someone with bedhead, she's well aware. ]

[genomage]

Oh? Are you afraid I would learn what I could, then discard you utterly and completely?

[His frown twists back into a smile, the same way he’s twisting her words.]

I’m touched, but I’m not going anywhere. No matter how many deep and dark secrets you spill. Not yet, at least.

[Where would he go? He has nowhere, in this world or his own.]

[femmefinale]

[ With a half-smile now ]

You've caught me, I'm afraid. However, words may be empty, so some secrets I must keep locked away until I deem them ready to be shared.

[ Which might be "never". ]

[genomage]

My words are never hollow, dear flower. There is meaning behind each and every syllable.

[Citation needed. He, at least, believes so.

Kuja takes a moment to stretch, obviously making himself comfortable.]

You say I’m to make up my own mind on the matter — meeting Simeon? Do you believe that will come to pass? Or will you fly off on your own, as soon as you catch word of where to find him?

[femmefinale]

[ Is he planning on napping on this bed, she can move--

But she merely huffs quietly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She's already told him what she avoids. ]

I intend to leave as soon as I know where he's hidden himself. Whether you accompany me or not is your own path to choose.

[genomage]

[wow]

I daresay you’d be very disappointed if I decided to carve out my own path before your tale was brought to completion.

[Dully-]

Besides, where would I go? I know nothing of this planet beyond the scope of our travels, pulled in the direction of everyone’s desires, but none my own.

[femmefinale]

Nothing has captivated your attention during our travels? No place has beckoned you to explore? No newly awakened desire of your own has stirred you?

[ Honestly, she seems a little surprised. ]

You may know little of this world, but you can choose to change that.

[genomage]

[He replies without hesitation, in a manner that might be somewhat telling.]

No.

[Kuja had been defined by a purpose upon his creation; and even after he had rebelled against his father, taking his destiny into his own hands, he was soon to learn that even that would not matter. Death would come, eventually, for an Angel of Death — how fittingly ironic. A true tragedy fit for the finest of stage plays.

And now that he is here, freed from all of that except for promise of death hanging over him, existence is strangely wheeling — freedom spirals out in too many directions, and he begins to wonder if the chains of so-called purpose were less a burden and more of a blissful ignorance. He would never go back to such a state, of course, but the double dose of irony is even more bitter than the last.


But how does one even begin to put that in words?]

Tell me, what are your plans after you’ve dealt your long-awaited vengeance?

[femmefinale]

... Revenge is all I've known for ten years.

[ she'd chosen this path, willingly endured abuse, humiliation, much more, and played her role to perfection, all for one purpose. That purpose will die with Simeon, and Primrose has never thought of what will come after.

She glances down at the blanket. ]

As to what will follow... I could not say. I suppose I will ponder it when I have nothing left to pursue.

... I may only hope, Kuja, that you will have something you want by then.

[genomage]

[His grin graces him again, just a ghost of a thing. Thin, this time.]

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

[Kuja does not know which day may be his last. Years from now, or tomorrow. He is caught between the baffling need to seek fulfillment, and the nihilistic knowledge that it barely matters if he does.]

Not knowing what you will do when you’ve finally achieved your goal… That is where I am now. There is little that anchors me to anything any longer. Just you, and your little group, and their personal goals. Which are amusing, true, but hardly any real concern of mine.

I am but an observer, watching life pass by. And when you share that fate with me, too, it’s then I’ll ask you: “Nothing has captivated your attention during our travels? No place has beckoned you to explore? No newly awakened desire of your own has stirred you?”

[femmefinale]

[ Primrose shifts, to push the blanket off. Kuja has taken up part of the bed with his lounging but she figures she can just scoot past him if he's in the way. ]

To my immense dismay, the only thing that has captivated me beyond my goal has been you.

[ But she has a bed to get out of and a man to kill. ]

[genomage]

[The blanket folds over and lands on an arm, and Kuja pushes it away. He lifts up that same arm and presses a hand on Primrose’s shoulder, gently pushing back to annoyingly forestall her attempts to get out of bed.]

Dismay? You should be delighted.

[He laughs, though. It’s strangely good to hear, despite all else.]

That the spotlight should draw your eye to a specimen like myself. Perhaps you should remain seated and indulge yourself for a bit longer. After all, you cannot move around very well with a wound still healing.

[femmefinale]

[ Yes, she sure is being annoyingly forestalled, and Primrose arches an eyebrow at him before she leans forward, testing his willingness to keep her where she is.

Well, she figured he'd preen about this. Her thanks for saving her life, perhaps. ]

I think you'll find that such a thing won't really prevent me from moving forward. I can admire your exquisite form another time.

[ It's almost deadpan, really. ]

[genomage]

[This time, he gives a little shove. But it’s barely enough to push her back onto her pillows; again, he’s just being a nuisance.]

You will get nowhere and fight nothing in the state. Not to mention that I have gone several days without your presence, dying from boredom, and now that you’re awake, the first thing you do is deny me your company! How cruel.

[femmefinale]

[ If he's lightly shoving her, she's looping an arm around his neck to-- eh. Reprimand him? Drag him down? Prove she's fighting fit? Sure. ]

If you will recall, good sir, I did spend quite a bit of time explaining my relationship and the situation. You've had plenty of time to savor my company.

[genomage]

I—

[Whoops, he’s being pulled forward, the crook of her arm caught against the back of his neck, and Kuja just keeps his gaze lifted, amused.]

…I still lay claim to the fact that you explained very little! The personal details of your character still escape me, dearest flower.

[Not that the same couldn’t be said for himself.]

[femmefinale]

[ Her look is still skeptical, if not faintly amused. Though she's not too thrilled about being gently "encouraged" to stay in bed, so he can just suffer by her holding him there. ]

My "personal details", as you so eloquently put it, will be something you learn in due time. Perhaps. And are you not a rather enigmatic individual yourself? I too know so little.

[genomage]

[Well, then they’re just going to remain like this forever, aren’t they? His brow arches.]

One must always hold a certain amount of mystique, or the audience grows weary. Still, honesty has always been an honorable quality of mine.

[This is, actually, not true.]

So if you have questions, ask.

[femmefinale]

Do you have family at all? You also don't strike me as human, though there are certainly similarities...

... And what is the story behind that dragon of yours?

[ To start off easy. ]

[genomage]

[To start off easy…]

Oh my. That is a veritable deluge of questions, Who knew you had been so curious, holding them back for so long?

[He’s going to try to straighten, though whether or not she allows him to is up for debate.]

We can start simple. My dragon has no story, beyond that I found it as a reliable source of transportation back on my planet. Its kind is indigenous to my world, and therefore I suppose you could say I consider it a pet.

[The rest, though.]

The rest is not so simple. I have a little brother—annoying and brash, with no appreciation for the arts—and an even littler sister. Though I have to ask what makes you so certain that I am not human. Is it the unfathomable beauty?