2019-06-25: Liquidation
- Log: 2019-06-25: Liquidation
- Cast: Ethius Hesiod, Marivel Armitage
- Where: Mi'ihen Highroad
- Date: June 25, 2019
- Summary: In times of crisis, sometimes the only thing left with value is blood itself.
===========================================<* 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> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
It's all something of a blur.
After the revelation of the means the Guard now has at their disposal - thanks to a level of influence and means he could not have predicted - Ethius did not stand around to try and recupercate even in the vicinity of one of the most accomplished and determined among Yevon to do good. He felt exposed. That creeping, fearful feeling that surfaces past the stoic layer that oft seems impentrenable. Grasping at an idea, a consequence, he can't allow to happen.
He doesn't remember what it is. He only knows he can't let it happen.
His escape from the city limits took him into the refugee camp Jay had already begun setting up. She is one of the greatest merchants ever to walk the two worlds - her ear was on the ground, among the first outside of Luca to know something was wrong. She organized the relief effort in a fashion that almost seemed prescient - and she took in Ethius at his most vulnerable and insistent.
It's been a struggle to apply the healing salve he needed to on his own. There's not much available spare clothing that's also appropriate for the climate, but he wants to leave as little of his upper body visible as possible. The best he can manage is stolen, appropriated Filgaian Drifter clothing from those unscrupulous outlaws that he'd been able to dispose of. Some have blood stains that will never wash out. They'll have to do. He has somehow found another yellow bandanna to tie around the lower half of his face - but ideally he'll find another Al Bhed mask in all of this.
Even in concealing himself anew, he still feels exposed - but more importantly.
Even as his flesh stings at rapid movement, even with scarfing down unmentionable foodstuffs prepared by himself, he's compelled to get the hell back in there. The two satchels he's procured in which to fill and create new Powder Grenades are not ideal - one is flimsy and might just go off as soon as he casts the activating spell - but he has to work with what he has.
There are no hooded cloaks available. So he has to make due with the soft blanket that Jay gave him, which he has wrapped around himself as he comes up to the very city limits of the besieged city of Luca - the next stage of the conquest - dodging the main roads as if he doesn't even want to be seen by those managing to get their carts and caravans the hell out of there.
He ducks down behind a stone, unable to fight the need to take in more air for his lungs as evening starts to set in. He can only fight his body so much before it reminds him that he's a mortal man with the same limitations as any other when it comes to fatigue - no matter how determined he might be.
No matter how important this end is to him, that he has done what he has, and continues to do what he does.
<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.
The camera pans over slightly to the right, revealing someone else who is ducking down behind the stone. It is Marivel, who is appears to very slightly burning in real time as light trails of smoke drift off her body. She is shrouded again for the moment which indicates that she is still suffering from her earlier brief exposure.
Despite being in such a state, Marivel is still Marivel and this is proven by her whispering, "Boo." to Ethius while he's looking in the wrong direction.
"Do you need any supplies? I can sell you some of my inventory. Tis a special wartime sale, only a wee bit of blood per purchase."
Discarded vials lay near her feet. They are empty.
"You should decide quickly, however." Marivel whispers. "Stock is as low as time."
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
The blanket-shrouded man sends about as sharp a glance as he's going to when there's comfy blanket fabric slipping around eye level, as if the blanket itself were in on this impromptu game of peek-a-boo. He can't sweep a hand up to get it out of his face because one's going for the quarterstaff and the other is presently being pointed outward as an open palm - the oft-described sorcerous equivalent to a drawn ARM.
He catches himself in a quarter of a second when he catches the more tell-tale signs of who that actually is who is accosting him. Maybe it's the other way around, this time. This rock cover is some excellent real estate. (He is batting .000 for being able to tell when, where, and how she arrives, nonetheless.)
When he draws that hand back, a thumb pushes up the blanket-hood to better stare at her while she makes that sales pitch.
Blood, for supplies.
A part of him internally recoils on the spot, as if deeply ingrained. Black and white.
No blood.
No tra--
...
His hand goes to his forehead. One eye peeks out the side of that towards her, as he seems to waste valuable time going through the repetitive animation motions again.
"You were subject to her weapon as well," he remarks in an even tone of voice even with how fast his heart is beating. That blood pumping.
Not even asking about her available stock - but, in a roundabout way, concern for her well-being.
<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.
Marivel doesn't seem to recoil from ARMS or quarterstaffs. She may recoil from hugs, of course, because she is weak to them but she is hardly asking for one of those.
"Yes," Marivel tells Ethius. "Though there is little greater weapon than the sun against one such as I. Tis a pity they keep planning all these assaults during the day." She smirks ever so faintly. "Kaguya is a very charismatic individual, but well meaning Veruni shattered Filgaia, Spira hardly needs that sort of help wouldn't you agree?"
She notably does not venture away from the shadow, crouching in the dark like some kind of bug or creature. "Tis a pity. I had such hopes for Leo." She looks over Ethius. "You are wounded as well, yet you are pushing in rather than out. Most would consider that suicide yet here you are." The same could be said of Marivel but she doesn't seem to be counting herself in this equation.
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
"Attacking during the daytime," Ethius remarks clinically, "ensures it is witnessed. A show of force, of intimidation." Everyone saw it. Enough witnesses, speaking of what they saw - if it came in the night, Jay might not have been able to set up the relief efforts as efficiently for any number of reasons. This commentary aside, he doesn't seem to have much to say on the front in which the Crimson Noble asks for agreement.
She returns the sentiment of concern, highlighting the severity of the situation versus both of their conditions. That's an active war zone, backed by weapons beyond anyone's recognition nor ability to deal with. His eyes close, as though even mentioning it starts to give his aches and pains more voice.
"...Your diet is purely liquid, if I am not mistaken." He doesn't dwell on what risk there is to himself by being here - the subject seems to be nudged towards her well-being instead. "How quickly do you metabolize your intake?" Clinical questions - a sphere of interest that does not seem to fit this man's purported interests and goals as he states them.
<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.
"Mm." Marivel says as Ethius continues to inquire about how her body functions. "If you aren't mistaken." She agrees which honestly makes it a pretty poor answer to his question. She can be a private individual too. The question about metabolization makes her laugh a little.
"Depends." DEPENDS? "We are monsters after all. Demons. Creatures of the night. We can store blood for a time but in a situation like this, I am hoping to heal a little before I continue the fight so I expect to 'burn' it very quickly. And I am very low on stock, Ethius. This is pretty much the opposite sort of scenario Crimson Nobles enjoy fighting in."
She exhales faintly and adds, "I understand if you do not wish to make such a trade but as there is not much time, if you are not up to the task I will have to find another."
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
The man's eyes stay closed as Marivel elucidates further (by some measure) on his queries. This is a man who almost never lets down his guard even at rest. Having eyes closed for this length is either a sign of trust... or a window into the possibility of passing out from the exertion to mind, body, and soul.
"I see," says a man whose eyes do not open again. One day they won't. It could be today, by anyone's measure. The Drifters of Filgaia and beyond have coasted on miracles for their survival thus far, pulling out their successes by the skin of their teeth if even that.
The gentle insistence comes through that exhalation about the circumstances and what is necessary, what alternatives there are, if any.
The question has a clear answer he cannot speak - whether by will or by subconscious. Immutable, to standards that continue to make no sense looking from the outside in. Maybe even a standard only achievable through a personal sort of madness and self-actualization of which this man could be possessed.
That answer...
An eye opens to look her over. He can hear the turning wheels of more fleeing carts and caravans. The fear in those damnably effluvious horsebirds whose scent he still cannot grow accustomed to, with the unsteadiness in their running legs. The passing wail of a frightened child.
The image, once more, of two great Golems rising from the sea as a lion-faced one bashes apart the seawall as they shake and shatter the very ground. One of the grinning colossus that disintegrated the war monks, whose same laser was turned to him. The broken. The frightened. The helpless. The people of...
...
Time's short. She needs to know. Ethius lowers the hand from his face.
"The circumstances as they are," he speaks, "I cannot--" Well, that's that.
"--let Kaguya claim you by proxy."
...
"Among the other possibilities of these events," he remarks, "I would not have." Whatever they are, does it matter when there's a warm, fleshy body with a pumping heart full of blood, blood, blood, delicious blood right there?!
He shows remarkable familiarity with the concept of how blood is properly drawn in a day that is not of here, presenting his right forearm with bits of blanket awkwardly wrapped around the non-essential parts for a fleshy needle.
An offering.
"Following exposure to the weapon, I make no guarantees." Living beings were not meant to withstand that. Who knows what it might have done to him. "Two vials' worth. You will consume their contents in their entirety before me and surrender the vial, or vials, once their contents are consumed." What on Filgaia, Lunar, or other celestial body could this man want with a used vial?
That is a terrible trade for him.
A win for Crimson Noble capitalism.
...After all, in the end...
That answer he has is absolute.
<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.
Marivel's eyes, barring a particular kind of interruption, will never close for good. She finds Ethius's strange nature to be charming. He is fiercely dedicated to something ill explained but Marivel does not seem the sort to go 'whaaa?' at such things.
She raises an eyebrow at Ethius's insistence he take the vials. She seems surprised by this insistence, but not confused. "I see... You are concerned I will do something with your blood. Study it perhaps? I wouldn't worry about that. Even if I were so inclined, that sort of thing is not really my field." She takes a cotton swab and cleans Ethius's arm with alcohol solution.
"But very well. I will give you all vials used in this operation as is only fair, alongside the other promised payment."
After cleaning Ethius's arm, she even burns the swab away in a brief burst of flame. She is quite willing to be thorough here.
"An easy trade, really." Marivel says. "After all, I don't have any needles with me."
And that's when in a sudden movement she clamps down on Ethius's arm fangs first.
If Ethius doesn't run screaming at this point she will not draw much but enough to get a few solid gulps in.
Also since she isn't using any vials this is an even crummier deal for Ethius! CHEAT! HAX!
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
The look on his face doesn't waver Marivel appears to identify the sticking point in this entire deal - a possessiveness about his blood. (That's sort of reasonable, looking from one perspective, people often are particular about where their blood is and what it's doing, but at some point it becomes semantics.)
The level stare likely does little to dissuade her otherwise as he lets her take a cotton swab to what of his arm is exposed. It would help more if he maybe tugged away some of the fabric from near his elbow, but he seems intent on not having his forearms exposed too much today.
'After all, I don't have any needles with me.'
"Then I am to inquire how--" Oh, he won't need to, she's already aptly demonstrating as she brings her fangs upon the selected site. He flinches.
If maybe not overly much, in so much that his adrenaline gets pumping and there starts feeling an odd familiarity - not comfort, familiarity - with how much blood is leaving him and by how much.
Enough to have an idea when she might be overdrawing the agreed amount (though a fight-or-flight response that is natural to living beings would say 'AHHH I'M BEING EATEN THIS IS TOO MUCH').
...
His blood tastes like a human male's - no surprise there, nothing special to speak of. If taking that laser did anything to him, it doesn't come through in the blood itself.
Whatever texture or aftertaste such a thing would have to a Crimson Noble, it seems that this meal comes in the form of an AB+ blood type - however platable or not that might be.
<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.
Marivel pulls away eventually. She does not seem reluctant but odds are she didn't take as much as she really needed just as much as she was willing to take from an already wounded man. She tenders to the injury. There won't be an infection or anything. There is a way to transmit vampirism but it involves far more than a bite. It isn't that easy to alter the nature of a soul.
Marivel licks her lips and shows Ethius her teeth to show she's getting all of it. She looks better. She has stopped 'smoking' at least. "Thank you," She says, setting down a satchel.
"Grenades, if you want them." She says, since she promised a resupply here. Resupply for resupply.
She does not comment on Ethius's bloodtype. She's not THAT rude. But she does add, "I know hunger is the best spice, but I say your blood tastes very good. You should be proud."
<Pose Tracker> Ethius Hesiod has posed.
With how little Ethius moves through all of that - the initial flinch aside - there could be cause for concern that he may have gone into shock... but that stare is there, at that infamous level of focus that speaks of more of him being there than there isn't. When she withdraws, he flexes his fingers and starts to move his arm back until she tends to the bite wound.
He blinks once as she shows she has consumed all of it by showing the relative cleanliness of her teeth. Once released at long last, he draws that arm back under the blanket-cloak. It takes him a moment to dedicate the other arm to grabbing the satchel, likely fron onset of further fatigue and weakness. Grenades.
He'll have to take a closer look at them later, he internalizes - whether he'll get around to using them during the oncoming conflict where all bets seem to be off, that's for another time.
"I would exercise discretion speaking of its culinary value." That might be under the same umbrella of concern as to his original terms. It may be more the surprise he can keep speaking like that after all's said and done, the bag of grenades held close - that he might be more disturbed about her talking about it to anyone else rather than talking about it to him.
His priorities are strange.
But he has them. Priorities enough he'll force himself inward in time.
He audibly exhales again - if he has any well wishes to speak, they don't come to mind. (Then again, he is noted for having no strong ability for dealing Hug-elemental damages, and is ill-equipped to take on the Marivel-type Pokemon gym.)
<Pose Tracker> Marivel Armitage has posed.
"Humans do seem to find it uncomfortable," Marivel says through her own kind of discretion.
There is a pause.
And then she pats Ethius on the cheek twice as if to accuse him of sentimentality or something.
"Dedication to one's duty is commendable."
And one blink later, she is gone.