2019-05-24: A Name Worth Keeping
- Log: 2019-05-24: A Name Worth Keeping
- Cast: Martell Branimir, Ratatoskr
- Where: Mi'ihen Highroad
- Date: May 24, 2019
- Summary: Two people, of two different lives, of two different attitudes, bond over a shared(?) cause through one name.
=================================================<* Mi'ihen Highroad *>================================================= Many years ago, a man named Lord Mi'ihen, commander of a mercenary group known as the Crimson Blades, was summoned by the Grand Measter to Bevelle to answer the challenge that his group was a threat to Yevon. Though his followers suspected he would be executed and begged to follow, Mi'ihen ordered them to stay behind and walked along an old path to Bevelle, without stopping to rest. Moved by the display of piety, the Grand Maester formally adopted Mi'ihen and his soldiers into Yevon as a defensive force, known now as the Crusaders. In recognition of the momentous moment, the path Mi'ihen walked now bears his name. ...except not really, because the original one was wrecked by Sin a few hundred years ago. You can still see bits of it as you pass along the Highroad, on which the Djose Temple can also be found. BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8tfe_H7bzw <Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
So. New world, new prejudices. Well... it's not a new world, really. Just new to him. It's all the same to him, really. He just has to minimize his profile as much as possible. At least, the thing on his eye and his arm. They're kind of distinctive.
To that end, Martell's fastened a strap to his targetting device and let it circle his head under his hair, making it look like a stylized eyepatch. The arm is a little more difficult. For the time being he's just removed the protective bit of metal at the shoulder and he's wearing a bit cape over everything. So he doesn't look too terribly weird aside from being a squirmy little runt. And his shoes are a little off, those black loafer-type things.
At his sides is Broken Thunder, his sword/bow ARM. Right now it's separated into the two small, jagged-looking swords; he's placed one sword on each side. He wants to be ready to jump should he need to -- fiends have been attacking him this whole trip -- and retrieving swords from his sides is easier.
He's heading here, to the Mushroom Rock Road, since it's one of the last places that a major battle occurred that involved his comrades. He's looking to retrace their steps. Also there was a lot of death here recently, there may be people that will listen to what he has to say.
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
Not long ago, Ratatoskr indulged in a curiosity alongside the Veruni Elvis, and got his face smashed in for it... not before saving someone else and then having them be a launching point for an indulgence into another curiosity. It ended in some great big moment of physical trauma he no longer clearly remembers. If he can't remember it, it's not worth keeping.
One day he will come to understand that this is the sort of the dominion of the concept of 'pain,' but that day may be far off yet.
Along the way to Mushroom Rock Road, Martell will see a scene of a crimson-armored... squirrel-man, going by the tail and the feet? With a horn on their head. They grasp at their jaw with clawed hands, one at chin level, one up higher, as they start pulling. There is a juicy but distinctly metallic-sounding 'squelch' as they manage to separate their lower jaw from the rest of their skull. Silver blood dribbles out their mouth as Hyadean regeneration kicks in to properly reset those sharp teeth in the orientation they need to be.
They flop onto their seat, on level-ish ground, their segmented metal-plated tail going flat to rest on the rocky turf as their solid yellow eyes look ahead... and then up. There's still a manic grin on their face, the solid yellow of their otherwise featureless eyes lighting up. A fiend?
"...You're not from around here?" These sound like accusatory words, almost, at their base. The voice is youthful, arrogant, as if the owner wants to be punched in the face for doing the indignity of speaking. "...You're not from around here!"
That sounds more relieving and joyous. Martell will be able to match the description as being that of Ratatoskr, a Hyadean remnant who pledged his lot in with Vinsfeld right on the day of his big emergence onto the world stage. One of theirs, in cause.
This does not diminish that he was part of a people that nearly brought Filgaia to oblivion not more than half a year ago.
<Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
Martell winces at this sight. But yes, he definitely knows the description. When getting orders to go punch people's teeth in, one's higherups generally give one a description of all the people whose teeth one should NOT be trying to punch in. And Ratatoskr's description is pretty distinctive. In fact he'd had to read it more than once to make sure that he hadn't misread it. So he doesn't immediately start attacking when the squirrel-man accuses him of not being 'from around here'.
"I'm not," he notes. "My name is Martell. I've only recently joined." He's not sure how much he can say out here. Though contrary to Ratatoskr's joyous words, Martell's are... kind of flat. His voice is quiet, and... actually it's kind of hard to tell whether it's a man's voice or a woman's voice.
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
There's an energy that seems to be building in the Hyadean foot soldier. An extra twitch. Mounting excitement. His eyes are just one solid color that brightens or dims, so it's tough to get the clearest idea of where those eyes might be tracking. It takes a lean to the side to give a reasonable tip-off.
He is totally checking out (one half of) their sword-bow.
"...Martell..." Does the name hold any previous meaning to him, as he repeats it? It's tough to say. The polite thing for him to do would be to properly introduce hims--
"What are those?" He points with his right hand, a clawed finger directed towards the half of the sword-bow ARM at their hip. "I've never seen that blade... what is it?" Less a peer, a fellow soldier.
Almost more like an enthusiastic youth, filled with an energy that he should no longer have. He just took grievous injury. He hasn't eaten in quite some time. Even as he rises to come closer, a part of him seems emanciated. Emanciated, as far as armored alien monstrosities from a dead star can ever look such.
"I want to know...!"
<Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
Martell seems a bit leery of the suddenly almost wiggly Ratatoskr, and takes a small step back. Though he tries not to make it look like he is. It's less out of fear and more out of not wanting to be in close range if Ratatoskr makes a sudden movement. However, Martell blinks a bit at the question. It's a little sudden. But this guy is an ally right? So it should be safe, shouldn't it?
"It's an ARM," he offers. "It's called 'Broken Thunder'." And just to prove that he's not completely soulless and uncaring, he does ask, "...Are you all right? You looked like you were... having a bit of trouble a moment ago..."
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
"...Cool." The Metal Demons, as they were called, possessed weaponry and tools far, far, far beyond that of almost anywhere else on Filgaia. (Or here, for that matter.) That this one regards such a thing as being 'cool' might be cause for confusion as much as any alarm. It can't really be that interesting to him, can it? Logistically speaking.
"What? Am I all right? Am I all right!" It's almost mocking, repeating that. (He's not. (All right. He's not all right.)) "I've never seen that before...! It has a name... hyahaha--!" That laugh is obnoxious as he comes up on his feet, crossing his arms and doing just that. "So few things do... names are great. You need names for history..."
<Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
Martell is a little confused by this, yes. Not only because 'Metal Demon', but because if Ratatoskr is a member of Odessa, shouldn't he have seen things like that before? Then again, they probably don't exactly let people wander through their stockpile of ARMs, so there's that. It's possible that Broken Thunder hasn't been shown to anyone before they took it out of whatever vault or vault-equivalent thing they took it out of to give it to him.
The echoing of his own words and the laughter gets a tilt of Martell's head. "Well... I did ask," he admits. "Purely out of concern. It would be hard to serve the greater good if you're hurt. And it will hurt more." Sound logic there, at least. Though he seems confused about the other thing too. "Names for history? What do you mean?"
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
Whether Ratatoskr truly understands what 'hurt' means is tough to say. Unless truly and grievously injured beyond a threshold that seems impossible to reach under normal circumstances, the Hyadean people hold an incredible innate regeneration. Which is perfect for foot soldiers being thrown out as fodder in order to conquer and subvert the very lifeblood of a planet to a World Eater.
...Or whatever inspires this leftover from the fallen hordes.
"I'm fine...! I'm fine... I can fight." He really shouldn't, though. He should eat. This self-care seems to take a back seat, if not a trunk seat, to this weird interest in the ARM and its name, as he circles around to try and look at the other one at the hip.
"...History!" He shouts. "The record! All the faces, all the names, all the weapons, all the styles...! There's so many out there..." The eyes light up an ever brighter yellow, which looks positively alien (well, he is one). "...Today! And they're all fighting. It's great... I want to see it all.."
<Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
"I know you -can-. But -should- you?" Martell inquires. That said, he's not familiar with the physiology of this person's species, so he might be misjudging Ratatoskr's condition. It certainly doesn't -look- great. But yeah... Martell isn't sure. But yes, on Martell's the other side, the second blade is attached. It's an almost exact duplicate of the other blade. It's also got some kind of energy source, but it's off right now for whatever reason.
As for the mention of history and all the different things out there, Martell notes, "Lots of things have names. Some of us just don't remember. Or care." He frowns a bit at the mention of all the fighting. "People usually only fight to have something. Or to destroy something. Or either of those for some-one-."
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
There are precious few things to be sure of, other than the sincerity and importance of Vinsfeld's message and the mission of Odessa, in these times.
Ratatoskr sure doesn't seem too conerned about Ratatoskr, that sharp-toothed grin never abating... actually, no, it sort of does, as Martell dismisses the idea of anyone not remembering or caring, the exciteable pacing slowing. The tail actually being held still.
"...Don't remember or care...? Why wouldn't they?"
<Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
"Memories are fallible," Martell replies. He shrugs a bit. "And sometimes... someone hates someone or something so much. So much that they want it to just go away. So they try to forget the name. If the name stops existing the thing stops existing. In their minds anyway."
He pauses a moment, turning to look at the ground. "But sometimes people hate something so much they can't forget. -Won't- forget." He kind of... clenches his hands into fists here. Oho! Looks like the placid, dead-eyed kid -does- have some fight in him somewhere!
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
Ratatoskr comes down into a crouch, and back down to a seat somewhere in all of this as Martell's emotions - and anger - rise in hatred of the memories that he wants to but cannot forget, and somewhere in all of this, the horned squirrel-shaped Hyadean looks about as close to confused as anyone's ever seen him. The eyes dim. He goes from sitting to leaning on the ground, propped up by an elbow as one outstretched hand lie face down on the ground.
As if akin to lying low and waiting for something to pass overhead.
The tail twitches once, as if to fight off the uncomfortable stiffness of this resting prone position.
"...Then what do you want to be remembered...?" The tone of voice is less loud, less boisterous, more inquisitive. Confused.
<Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
Well, fortunately Martell understands that the anger shouldn't be aimed at Ratatoskr. It needs to be released at the right person! And Ratatoskr didn't do any of the things that broke Martell, so he's not the right person. And after a moment, his anger does pass. He sighs quietly.
The question draws him to look at Ratatoskr again. "I want my mother to be remembered. And... I want the one who killed her to -choke to death- on her name. I want him to remember what he did to her. What he did to us both. But I don't want to say -his- name. I want him to be forgotten. So if I die I'll take him to my grave. Then he'll truly be dead for all times."
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
It is a strange situation to be in, isn't it? Where the closest thing to an emotional anchor for Martell in his time of stress and unwanted remembrance of what brought him here, is a member of a people who were bred for war and ruin by a foul being from so far away. Could he ever possibly understand the depths of what is being told?
"Was she strong?" He asks, tail flexing out again as he lies there on the ground, looking up to the young man who has had to reaffirm his rage, and his desire for eventual oblivion.
<Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
This is what desperation looks like. Martell has been holding onto his grief and rage for a long time. And it's all been building as the years pass and life kept kicking him and his mother. It's a lot of unresolved issues. He wouldn't even be telling Ratatoskr any of this if he wasn't pretty sure the man-squirrel was an ally. Though to Martell's credit, he is trying to keep it to a minimum.
His mother being strong? "Yes." The statement is instantaneous. Emotional strength is strength too, even if she hadn't been a fighter. Heck, if she HAD been a fighter, that one guy... she might have been able to take him out herself. But alas, not to be... Anyway. "She was always there when I needed her, no matter what she was going through herself."
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
Ratatoskr's eyes light up as the answer comes quickly, as though his interest in knowing about her is piqued. "Always watching your flank..." He may not be able to parse what it is Martell speaks of, outside of comparing it internally to military movements and terms.
His own 'Mother' - a lie of a name - was not a matronly presence. She was a commanding one that once was an individual of awe and divine standing among his people. Then the truth came out.
He grappled with it all from a different direction. Then he ran off and grappled everything ever. (A vast overslimplification!)
"I'll remember her too...!" He doesn't voice it aloud, but to anyone who knows him, it is a sad thought even if it is one made in absolute earnest: he wishes he could've been around to fight her, according to his distorted picture of her.
<Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
Martell nods. "Something like that," he agrees. She wasn't a fighter of course, but she'd always be there to pick him up when he fell. He adds, wistfully, "I knew I was safe with her. It was one of the few places I felt safe." Though then he sighs a bit. "Ugh, sorry. I've only met you and I'm going all weepy. I don't usually do that." Though truth be told, he's not going weepy. Not literally anyway.
But when Ratatoskr mentions he'll remember her too... Martell pauses. He'll outlive Martell by a lot, won't he? That will be someone to keep her name nigh-on forever, right? That means someone will remember her as long as Ratatoskr lives and remembers her name. Martell nods, as though he's made a decision. And then?
He says the name so that Ratatoskr can hear it. The name of his mother.
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
"Sorry? Sorry!" Ratatoskr's voice raises, repeating as if clarying for himself as to why on Ea-- Spira he'd be sorry. "...Why? I want to keep her name... everything!" The scope of what this means between the two of them may differ - greatly - but the underlying sincerity nonetheless holds strong.
He's told the name.
He grins that much wider. His posture rises up again, with only the faint wobbling of unsteadiness that comes from technically on the way to dying from starvation. Ratatoskr's interest is in meeting, fighting, cataloguing the war heroes of today so that they'll never be forgotten.
What he believes are war heroes, anyway.
His earnest interest is much like that of a child going all-in on an interest or a hobby. For being someone, a something, designed to be a fearsome, efficient killer within their bred and instinctually ingrained specialties...
...in a twisted way, as Martell prepares what they believe will be the last days of their lives, he is in the presence of someone who cares.
<Pose Tracker> Martell Branimir has posed.
"There's generally a dislike for 'oversharing'... where I'm from," Martell offers. He doesn't want to say 'amongst humans' since... well, the elves are that way too usually. Also he doesn't want to come off like he's insulting an ally. But he does note, "...Thank you." And a bit of honesty next, the reason he offered up that name so easily, "...I expect to give all of myself to Odessa, and I don't expect there will be a lot left when things are finished. So if you'll live longer, that will be someone who will continue to remember her name after I'm gone." He speaks calmly, as if he's not worried about his eventual death at all.
More evenly, he notes, "So... I've just been sent here to help. What all has been going on thus far? Can you give me a rundown od the situation?" He needs to know where things stand before he knows what angle to attack from.
<Pose Tracker> Ratatoskr has posed.
"A rundown of the situation...?" Ratatoskr grins, once more up at his full height, crossing his arms as his tail lifts up and curls. "A rundown of the situation!"
The good news - Ratatoskr is a trained battlefield messenger. A calling he never really got to use in the final days of Mother's final attempt at conquest. Eventually he'll get around to what he was told by someone who sought him out before Operation Mi'ihen came and... went badly. Find ARMS, fight them, stop them from coming back to Filgaia.
Bad news - This all comes after his extremely in-depth talk about all he knows about Spira (mostly its warriors and its heroes).
...
But the situation will be covered.