2019-06-23: Dear Things We Left Behind
- Cutscene: Dear Things We Left Behind
- Cast: Auron
- Where: Shore, Luca
- Date: 2019-06-23
- Summary: A mysterious figure reclaims something from the fallen remains of Luca that belongs to him.
After the failed defense of Luca, the shores near the city are littered with broken weapons, broken armor... and broken bodies.
Amongst the broken pieces of lives both destroyed and ended on the beach, one thing stands still -- it's a large single-edged sword, having fell with its blade deeply imbedded in the ground, almost as if put there on purpose. It has a dark gray blade, the hilt merely a suggestion of the shaping of the end of the blade, and a slight curve to it... an almost elegant-looking blade, with its gold filigree. Its handle is wrapped in blue and red cloth, now soaked from the sea.
Night is upon the beach now and the conquerors' guards patrol the area. Nothing seems amiss, with Yevon's faithful either killed, evacuated, or scattered. The city belongs to Althena now, and there is confidence to be had in the knowledge that the Goddess's warriors are superior.
But a soft, gentle wailing sound breaks the silence, and lights begin to fall from the sky, leaving watery contrails in the air. Pyreflies gather near the upright sword in the ground, falling to the area immediately next to it. Reflected in their light, suddenly, a shape takes form. It's a human shape, about six feet tall and broad-shouldered -- a man, likely.
"Who goes there?!" a nearby guard declares. "Identify yourself!" The man says nothing, but turns in the guard's direction and stares at them, impassively. His form is indistinct amongst the lights, but also...
...Translucent.
Nonetheless he reaches for the sword and grasps its handle. It seems to take a moment before anything happens, the apparition seeming to have trouble moving the blade at first. But then the hand seems to gain more solidity, and the blade is drawn from the ground.
"Put that down!" the guard demands, brandishing a sword. "Put it down and put your hands where I can see them!"
The man seems to grow more solid, his features coming into greater focus now. A weathered, careworn face. Right eye sealed shut by an injury long since healed into a scar. A gray collar to cover the bottom of his face, a pair of sunglasses to partially hide his eyes. And that red coat.
...Red coat? Didn't one of the defenders have a red coat? The guard tenses. The man moves faster however. A cry echoes up the beach, louder than the soft wailing of the motes of light still swirling around him. The scream is cut off quickly by the gurgle of death.
"...See?"
It's a cold, flat utterance of that single word.
But that scream will bring others, Auron knows. He moves to sheathe the sword, and then his form goes translucent again. A moment later, the watery motes of light float up again, taking him with them. And the guards will find nothing but the dead guard and the place where the sword had been imbedded in the ground...