The Importance of Being... [Open]

[Reeve Tuesti]

Some people got stupid ideas.

Reeve got stupid actions.

He hadn't been thinking. Actually, he was pretty sure he hadn't been awake, thinking or even remotely responsive to external stimuli because it took a blind and deaf otter in a coma to miss the Thunder Plains.

And not only had he missed it, but somehow, he'd wandered straight into it.

Storms raged across the surface of the ever present sand and tall grass, glassing and burning as it did so. Lightning struck, not forty meters away, its thunderous roar almost deafening. It was a peculiarly localized meterological phenomenon. One that the insatiably curious mage would have loved to study under different circumstances.

One in which he wasn't quite so directly impressed by how well earned its name was.

Hunkering down as low as he could get, Reeve hastily cast a protect (not that it would do any good against lightning - but he'd rather not get a nasty surprise in the form of the local fauna) and turtled towards the closest tower he could spot.

How in Yevon's blessed name had he wandered here?

[Roxas]

_____________________________________________________
~“Fly like a butterfly, but run like a mad man.”

Dark and desolate, no light except the warning of a barreling bolt to the lands that quaked the area, but digressed, only to strike the towers nearby.

This was not exactly a “Beach” and Roxas of all people should have known that. The land was no different in appearance, but it did have a certain “trait” that was missing before. The sight of the large towers nearby was a welcoming sight, especially seeing they were there to catch the bolts of continuous lightening from the unstable atmosphere. It was much to his fortune that he did not have to experience a bolt once again…unless he was careful how he wielding his blades.

Childish memories were funny.

It had felt that it was not long ago that he had trekked through this area on his own, ignorance following him, he thought he was faster than lightening itself to journey through this land. It was natural since under the fragile preteen ages that children seemed to have wild imaginations. The swift warrior was no different from these children seeing that he had so many times expressed that curiosity in his youth that made it feel as if his mind stretched into an eternity of possibilities. Who was to say, he may still carry those childish traits.

A strong sense of justice, illogical passion that would overwrite reason, and arrogance of a teen when it came to his strength. Pretty much, he was growing, but not quite there yet.

His electric blue eyes had traveled across the area as he could see the flashes that would blind the sight, but only cause him to peer into the sky. Every moment that moment would occur, he had reached his right hand to his side where his pocket watch had swung from his hip where it could be easily accessed with just a swing of his right hand while holding onto one of his weapons with his left. He was swift and quick with every moment just how he had been trained to be. The moment that he saw a coursing bolt of electricity in his sight and barreling down to his path, his thumb had flicked the top of the pocket watch and pulled back the hands making the ‘Three” character upon it start to move and flux out of place as if it was moving from the confines and space.

*CRASH!*

The lightening bolt hit the ground and quaked the area with its roar. The blonde haired child was no where in sight as he had simply stood afar and under the safety of a nearby tower. He watched the place where he once stood freshly simmering, charred just as black as all of the land. He had stared with an empty expression upon his face before letting his mouth open to finally move from his statuesque state.

He sighed, relieved.

“Lucky me…” the young boy had thought silently to himself.

It was only by using his boost of speed and the compressed element of light that allowed him to move with such speed that was barely human. With the little sketchy details aside as he stared at one of his magical artifacts, he had put the thought behind him. The origin of the item was bad enough, and it only made him feel weak for some reason.

Regret? Guilt? One of those things that called achingly for repentance. His right hand reaching to the leg of the tower, he had carefully placed it as he leaned upon the tower, his eyes traveling distant seeing someone who was in the same predicament as he was. Roxas did not say much. He was not the best guest seeing he was not that developed with his social skills, and it was quite rude to suddenly arrive under the tower after that amazing display, act like this person did not exist until this very moment.

He turned his attention away as he let his eyes travel to the ground hesitantly. What was the best way to start a conversation?

“So…~” he had mused anxious of how to start the conversation, “…lovely weather we‘re having, huh?”

A good note would be that Roxas was only kidding seeing he used the words so loosely since them exactly was what was called, “A Good Conversation starter.” However, in the Thunder Plains…

…it was just plain psycho-babble.

---

Listening to: ”Deep Breath” from Persona 3:FES OST
Chatty Ditz: A little hungry, so forgive if this lacks in a bit of quality.[/size]

[Reeve Tuesti]

After Reeve had managed to get the courage to look up and consider (maybe) sprinting to the next tower, he realized that he had company. It appeared that this Yevonforsaken place attracted all sorts.

Huhn.

The priest wasn't quite sure how to categorize the newcomer. Young but in a nondescript way - he could have been anywhere between an old-looking fourteen and a babyface twenty-eight. Reeve pegged him at around twenty-two but the blades he carried gave him a certain air of maturity. He could have been younger. Not a lot younger - but maybe not even drinking age.

The reason the kid had appeared though, completely escaped him.

Reeve stared. The kid seemed to fumble for something to say. Probably not the sociable type. Or maybe it was the thunder and lightning. Those tended to kill all rational thought pretty easily.

"So... lovely weather we're having, huh?"

...

Reeve scooted away an inch before realizing what he was doing and stopping.


Now the kid was either being hysterical or thunder-drunk. If he was serious, Reeve was going to have a fit. He did not want to be stuck in this sorry excuse of a wasteland listening to a crazy kid armed with prodigiously sharp implements of war near his person. He had an active protect, but anyone good enough and crazy enough to survive out here and call the weather lovely would cut him to ribbons, protect or no protect.

"Yes," Reeve responded guardedly. It was best to humor the crazies. "It's rather impressive. All the... thunder. And lightning."

He racked his brain for something intelligent to say. All that came out was a garbled: want, need, OUT - and that wasn't, honestly, going to be very helpful much as it was an honest to Yevon sentiment at the moment. He tried something normal. It'd be nice to be in a normal place again.

As if to rob him of all hope, lightning struck, not twenty meters away despite the presence of the tower.

Looking jumpy, the priest muttered, in his most passable conversation voice: "So. What brings you to this neck of the woods."

Reeve considered this. Backtracked.

"Er. Plains?"

[Roxas]

_____________________________________________________
~“It‘s good to laugh when you‘re sad.”

"Yes, It's rather impressive. All the... thunder. And lightning."

A positive response, a good sign he did not fail in the commencement; then again, it was like the mood was saying “Where to go from here?” in its own brand of English.

Roxas had gradually slipped back into silence. A simple nod of his head was most likely the proper response to give. At times like that, he had kept his peace until something came to thought, but there was not much though to give when it came to strangers. He was not the curious type that was fascinated by anyone, but so he tried for the sake of the connections. It was not their origins that were fascinating, but the fact that they were living were. He alone had not had the time to see much of anyone else, but Tessai, and what an experience that was in the end.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he was here in the Thunder Plains for “that” reason.

He had stared outward towards the dark skies that dropped bolts of thunder down from the heavens. It was as if the clouds in this area were composed of some kind of overwhelming anger to make them act out in such a way. This sort of sight was not common, to see electricity spill down for a constant whether condition. Spira was unique like that though. It was even amazing how such a beautiful place had appeared upon one leaving the Thunder Plains was flowed by this.

"So. What brings you to this neck of the woods. Er, Plains?"

That itself was a good question. The young man had simply the clouds a bit before letting his blue eyes stray away and go to the figure. His lips was sealed, as if he was hiding a secret. There was an idle moment before he let his eyes go back to the darkened sky. It made one curious if he was ever going to answer the question, or simply let it go ignored as if it was ever asked, but reaching right hand to his side where one of the holstered Katanas had sat, and his left arm reaching from the leg of the tower, he had stood with his right hip in a slant while his left hand scratched through his head full of spiky blonde hair.

“Man…that‘s a good question.”

His reply had made it seem as if this meeting was most likely a strange one. The fact Roxas did not even recall why he came here was a strange one. He had been walking all over Spira and trying new experiences, digressing from memories of procedures at times and slacking off to try something first hand after seeing it seen for so long. He still felt a bit regretful that he did not get to experience a game of Blitzball, but that would come down the line.

“I have some memories of this place…” he had admitted, “I guess I zoned out and ended up coming back for ‘em.”

The memories, even seeming insignificant, had posed some reminders. This place before was too dangerous to travel in alone. If anything, he ended up getting shocked by a bolt once or twice. He thought he would end up being food for some beast within these plains eventually, but he thanked heavens that the Guado were kind people. His head had sat up right as he dropped his left hand back to his side upon speaking; admitting that he really did miss those times he traveled Spira for his first quest.

---

Listening to: ”Deep Breath” from Persona 3:FES OST
Chatty Ditz: Hysterical...[/size]

[Reeve Tuesti]

Ah. Reeve pondered upon what the kid had told him, doing his best to look old and wise. Mostly just wise, the old he could - frankly - do without. Even though the church had managed to hide a great deal of the ensuing scandal from the faithful, Reeve was a traveler. And he listened to the odd and end rumors that surfaced after Sin had disappeared. Apparently a great number of the Maesters and higher-ups had been Unsent. It turned his stomach to realize that these rumors were not only possible, but probable. Yo Mika had been celebrating his fiftieth year at the helm of the Church.

No, old was definitely no longer in vogue. At least not until a Sending was performed and everyone made absolutely sure that there wasn't a living zombie in the room.

"Memories, huh?" Reeve mused, aloud.

It was an interesting statement to be sure. And implied that the kid - warrior, probably - was older than he appeared. Then again, he could have been trained here. Reeve had heard of such things - though it was largely frowned upon to toss your children into places that would more than likely kill them, certain sects of Yevon embraced the more rigorous methods of training future soldiers. He'd seen certain warrior monks with so much scarring that it nearly formed a second skin - durable but lacking in sensitivity.

He spared a quick glance. The kid didn't look like he'd been fried thirty-two times before hitting puberty. Maybe he'd just been part of the trading caravans that were known to rush through the plains from time to time, en route from Guadosalam and Macalania.

"Well, I'm Reeve. Reeve Tuesti, Memory-Seeker." The priest said, offering a hand. Now that he had thought things through, he realized that his previous fears were (most likely) unfounded and merely a result of the thunder and lightning and the obligatory What The Yevon?! moment that occurred whenever Reeve realized he had no idea how he'd gotten somewhere.

"I'm afraid my reason is no better than yours - I haven't the faintest clue why I'm here."

Or how I got here, he grumbled under his breath.

[Roxas]

_____________________________________________________
~“This is friendly?”

"Well, I'm Reeve. Reeve Tuesti, Memory-Seeker."

Roxas had turned to the figure and lifted a brow upon the introduction. His hand stretched out to him as he seemed to offer a shake, but it took a while for Roxas to catch on. He was still not use to the concept of a handshake because of his mind desolate from any culture other than the art of skillfully wielding a sword, and with extreme prejudice for the sake of his own discipline of fighting. He had reached out accordingly as he grasped the hand of the man. His eyes moving from the hand contact back to make contact with the no longer stranger by name.

“Roxas…” he had simply said, “They call me Roxas.”

His name, mostly not defined by his mother’s lips. Honestly, he did not know who gave him the name, either it was his mother, or his slain teacher. Either way, the thought confused him. It almost felt as if he lacked an existence at the most part, and the only way it was defined in the past was taking orders and being lead by deceptions and lies. The only thing he had to his name now with his deceased teacher was the Sword-Style and magical skills he had taken for his own. These unique skills defining him as “Roxas,” but he wished for so much more even beyond that dark revelation brought about from slaying one with his own hands.

Letting go, he had let his hand fall back to his side before letting his arms folded and his eyes sat upon the figure with some confusion in him. An inevitable question at hand, he spoke once more with curiosity rolling from the tongue. “Memory Seeker?” he had toned, “What is that exactly?”

With his lacking of understanding, he actually thought of it as an occupation. Some could call him slow, a bit behind in the field of comprehension when such talk came up, but the source stemmed from his lack of efforts in the world. Slowly, it dissipated, but not quick enough for him to be up to date as his age. Adolescence was quite cruel to some, especially those who grew up under a cursed thumb.

"I'm afraid my reason is no better than yours - I haven't the faintest clue why I'm here."

It figured. The young man was not the only one who felt puzzled to why he was visit such a cursed place. Most of the time, he felt pathetic just for walking into the confines of this thunderous version of hell. Seeing the area for what it was, he had ultimately tried to avoid the place by common sense, but his mental mind had brought him back because of the memory that dwelled, and most likely not that it was an idea tour attraction.

If only he could find the moment he pressed for to sympathize with the man, he would, but at the moment, he felt only fortunate that he was able to hold onto what sanity he had by not walking through the spot alone and head full of carnivorous guilt.

---

Listening to: ”Deep Breath” from Persona 3:FES OST
Chatty Ditz: Hysterical...[/size]

[Reeve Tuesti]

Reeve blinked. It appeared he had been misunderstood.

"Why you are. Didn't you say you were seeking your memories?" Reeve motioned to the broad expanse of wasteland that surrounded them. "Though they may not have physical form, you will no doubt find them out here, somewhere. That is what it means to be a Seeker."

The more exposure he got to this boy, the greater the feeling that he was a child. Not innocent but rather... incomplete. As if his existence had been piecemeal where a childhood substituted for something wholly different than what was usual. Reeve, in his time, had met a great number of people from various cultures and races. But even the Hypello - greatly renown for their inner peace - did not give off quite the aura that this 'Roxas' did. An interesting puzzle.

One that he would have more time for if he had been anywhere but here.

"Perhaps we should get moving," Reeve said, eyes darting to and fro for the next tower. They were there (obviously) but time and wear had made it difficult to judge which were closer. Reeve would rather not run the two or three extra miles it'd take to get to one that was huge but, in perspective, closer than the others.

Perhaps Roxas could help.

"Do you know your way around here?" Reeve probed his memories, looking for - ah, yes! an Al Bhed had mentioned it. He'd been losing blood and quite delerious at the time, but the wounded and injured had been the only people Reeve had seen for a good twenty days after Operation Mi'ihen.

"I have heard there is a Wayfarer station here. It's supposed to be quite permanent. A shelter for those who need rest from the weather." Reeve nodded feverently: even if Roxas didn't, Reeve would like to rest. A lot, actually. Cowering on the ground took a surprising amount of energy.

[Roxas]

_____________________________________________________
~“Risk your life for a stranger. It's a common practice.”

"Why you are. Didn't you say you were seeking your memories? Though they may not have physical form, you will no doubt find them out here, somewhere. That is what it means to be a Seeker."

“Oh!” Roxas had peeked with his right hand going to his chin. His eyes had seemed to be in heavy thought about the concept. A “Memory Seeker.” Seeing he always was dwelling in memory, s well as searching for those memories passed upon his first quest, and adding memories anew to them, he had felt that this was perhaps an appropriate title. He was a “Memory Seeker,” and one who cleaved his way through a questionable existence seeing he felt as if life had not begun anew until the Eternal Calm had be gone.

What a blessed day to be born it was.

“I see…” Roxas had said, “I‘m…a Memory Seeker, huh?”

The Memories he had left behind were collected one by one, but alone and even so he found himself here. Was it fated that he meet this stranger for a reason? To perhaps degenerate the memories he had here in order to replace them with one that might have made him come to a “true” realization other than with that accursed man? It was a comforting thought, but at the same time, it felt like an escape, so therefore, he was left undecided until he saw at the end of the day either if this memory would be “Memorable” by pain or a pleasurable meeting.

"Perhaps we should get moving,"

His mind that was suck on that of the concept was strayed away before not long as his attention had gone to the Reeve once more. His head nodded in confirmation upon the suggestion. It sounded like a smart one seeing that staying in once place in this area was not a very smart one. Roxas had avoided enemies in this area as well as kept away from the need to battle by using his unique characteristics of speed as well as “Justice” in order ward off enemies.

"Do you know your way around here? I have heard there is a Wayfarer station here. It's supposed to be quite permanent. A shelter for those who need rest from the weather."

Resourceful and having good source of information, Roxas had seemed to know exactly what the man was referring to. His eyes going from him and to the sky, he had given it a good gaze to see the state. It was not quite noticeable, but there were some familiar patterns in the clouds if one was looking good enough, and the area around that said “Station” had a certain formation because of the way the towers near that said station collected the electricity to make the thunder shape the clouds as it sliced through following to that certain point.

With his right hand lifting to the air slowly and moving across the sky, he had let it drop as he had pointed to a certain direction that was beyond the cliff before them.

“It‘s around there…” he had said confidently, “…the thunder pouring from the clouds around the sky there is distinctly drawn to insure that the lightening will always strike that place without doing harm to the station.”

Who had taught him this? If only he did not know.

His right hand reaching to his side, and his thumb flicking the top of what seemed like a Pocket Watch, he had let his eyes sit on the man as it stunned him. The realization dawned on him that he could not use “Haste” and quickly make way to the station as long as he was traveling with someone. As he learned, such a move was inconsiderate. With his thumb across his Pocket Watch, he had flipped it and shut it close. He had simply tucked it away while keeping eye contact before turning his back to the stranger and looking towards the next distant tower.

“You shoud lead…” Roxas had recommended. “…fiends are pretty strong around here, and come out of no where. I can hold my own in this place.” he had implied in a way of saying he would watch the man’s back. He could not communicate too good upon getting that point across, but he would surely get the message.

---

Listening to: ”Deep Breath” from Persona 3:FES OST
Chatty Ditz: Getting kinda’ sleepy, so might be my last post for the night.[/size]

[Reeve Tuesti]

Drat. It looked like he would be playing vanguard.

Oh well. As long as Roxas had his back, Reeve would gladly keep a weather eye out for the obstacles ahead of them. It wasn't like he'd be much good guarding the rear anyway. He had piss-poor reflexes and senses most of the time. On occasion, he'd get that creepy feeling that someone was walking over his grave but for the most part, it had been his fellow priests or soldiers that had hauled his butt out of the fire.

Yes, maybe this arrangement was preferable. Especially in a place where, of all things, Qactuars were supposed to be. Though once nothing more than a legend tied to High Summoner Gandof, they were now very much a real threat. Reeve had no wish to experience the thousand needles. If he saw them first, they were making HUGE detours.

In that respect...

Reeve felt for his magic.

"Hold still," he muttered before drawing the magic out. Mana saturated the air as he fashioned a dome of pure protective force around Roxas. There a good a Protect as any he'd created. It should probably last until they were... wherever they needed to be. Or good enough to let him survive any surprise attacks from behind.

"It won't ward off the lightning, but it should be effective against physical blows." He reflected on this for a moment. Added: "Don't think it makes you invincible because it doesn't."

There was a moment of silence punctuated by the ever present thunder.

The priest tried to think of something profound to say. This might very well be his last words in a situation which didn't involve a life and death struggle. In lieu of the profundity of something wise and ageless he said, quite practically:

"If you need a cura, just ask."

v.v.v.v.v.v

They had nearly crossed three or four kilometers at a good, brisk pace before the thunder and lightning (not to mention the runner's high Reeve was getting) started making Reeve lightheaded. He was seeing stars - aftershock from the numerous lightning strikes. They'd skirted around most of the more densely lightning-struck areas, keeping as low to the ground as possible (leastwise, Reeve was doing his best to do so, he didn't know about Roxas) and running from Tower to Tower with only short breaks in between.

It wasn't far now at all. Thankfully, they hadn't seen any fiends yet. Perhaps they were all asleep. The Eternal Calm had made Spira a little more friendly to travelers.

Reeve was about to suggest that they rest at the next Tower when he very nearly bumped into a trio of Iron Giants. Their rusted hide had blended well with the background, making them appear like nothing more than a rocky outcropping. Reeve backpedaled. They hadn't seen him yet... had they? He'd never even heard of Iron Giants massing together. He was under the impression that they were loners of a sort.

"Any ideas?" He hissed at Roxas.

[Roxas]

_____________________________________________________
~“Commence Operation: Don‘t Get Pummeled.”

Roxas had stood there as Reeve took the time to explain his magic. He seemed like the type to support, which was perfect for Roxas since he felt he did not need someone to fight by his side. If in any situation, the man would most likely be suited running along without Roxas since he was already use to enduring this area just by the wind of his little Pocket Watch. However, after the first usage a moment ago, he was still waiting for it to charge, and even so, being around someone else brought back the principle of being “considerate.”

With the spells cast and explain, Roxas had felt like the man wasted a bit of time. With his usual cocky manner, Roxas had slightly parted his lips with a slight chuckle slipping from between them. His right hand pressed against the hilt of his sheathed weapon and his electric blue eyes lifting a brow after explaining the use of his physical skill, he had spoke up.

“Don‘t worry. They probably won‘t be able to scratch me.” he had spoke lightly.

Seeing the fiend variations within the area, he was pretty confident. Most of them were of the average variations. They had elemental weaknesses, and some did not, but were still minor. He could just as easily use the power of his passive skill “Justice” and mow down the enemy while they were still trying to recover. He was not exactly a good magic-user, but he still had strategies. Without his Pocket Watch however, moving through the area as well as fighting against enemies who did threaten him with physical attacks would be more difficult than usual as well.

That was best not for the stranger to know. Nodding to the acknowledgement of his support with his cure spells,. Roxas followed suit running behind him.

}-----{~<+>~}-----{

Although Roxas had been confident that the traveling would be easy, he had felt that “easy” was just another illusion of walking around in the Thunder Plains. The fact of dodging a raid of thunder bolts was hard enough, but something else would come making it the dark before the dawn. As usual, they would be fiends, but the most of unfortunate, the fiends were the massive plated Iron Giants themselves that Roxas had thus dread to see within the area.

Why were “Iron Giants” so dreadful?

They were few of man fiends that Roxas was effective against. He knew all about them based on the information Tessai had given him upon their first encounter with the fiend. They were resistant to lightening which explained prior to their massive size they could reside in such a place. They were strong with ferocious attack strength, but very weak when it came to magic that would otherwise strike them. They had thick armor which was a problem to Roxas. For once, he was silent as he was questioned by the mage.

"Any ideas?"

Roxas was silent. As usual, it had taken him a while to come up with an answer. The large golems were massively powerful, but terrible cowards. They attacked the weakest of any band of travelers or prey they had approached. Knowing this, the blonde haired boy knew that he was just as good as a target as Reeve seeing he was very swift and powerful, but lacked in the stamina seeing his evasive skills mostly covered that ground. He had reached his right hand to his left side and left to his right as he was quick to draw both Katanas into both hands.

“We‘ll meet at the next tower…”

Without any second thought, Roxas had charged forth as he had went straight forth towards the giant. There was no “clear” plan, but it was obvious he implied to split up for the sake of keeping the mage sake. He was a loner after all when it came to the front line of battle, and why should he drag someone along when they obviously did not have any intention of fighting, or at least judging from his words.

With himself running to the back side of the Iron Giant, he had built up speed only to let his body fall into a baseball slide going under its body and ending up at its lower peripheral. He had quickly swayed left for the sake of diverting their attention away from their right side and keeping away from their dominant right sword hand. This would give the mage an opportunity to break right and get away while Roxas had slipped left with the intention to gain their attention completely.

With his sword striking the ground and pulling him up back to his feet in a stylish foul swoop, he had continue forth rushing through the plains with his tiring breaths as he tried to endure until he reached the next tower or until his Holy Clock had recharged its energy so he could take the giants on with an advantage on his side.

---

Listening to: ”Switchblade” by Prozzak
Chatty Ditz: Didn't want to control the NPCs you summoned. Let me know if I can..[/size]

[Reeve Tuesti]

[ooc: Well, you were free to. I do have an idea now though. You can pick on all of them with impunity and control their actions to a degree BUT you cannot injure them severely nor kill them. Right now they're speshul. Also, describe one of them as clearly hesitant.]

At first, Reeve didn't, couldn't understand what the kid had said. The words were there, hovering in his mind like an amputated limb, of him and yet no longer his. As Roxas rushed off, he assumed that the kid had done the smart thing and abandoned the dead weight of a Yevonite priest behind and had ran for the (metaphorical) hills. Reeve was only a little surprised to realize that he was rather philosophical about his impending doom. Everyone died someday, right? He'd lead a good, if blind, life. He'd like to live longer but if this was where he was meant to end he'd accept it with good grace. He would not return to this life as a fiend.

Then came the dawning moment of comprehension as he realized that no, the kid was being heroic. There was a critical moment of disbelief-

Blood, blood everywhere, staining the ground, seeping through the lingering miasma of a victorious Sin. Reeve screamed his throat hoarse looking for survivors but none that lived called back to him. Operation Mi'ihen had failed failed failed.

-where he just stood there, stunned.

"No!" Reeve clutched at Roxas' sleeve but he only grabbed air: the kid had run off long ago. "No, damnit." Reeve cursed. "Too many Yevon-damned heroes." He whispered, powerless.

He should have run. It was the smart, practical thing to do. But as much as smart and practical could define Reeve Tuesti at times, this was not one of them. He'd seen the kid and understood, with the practiced combat veteran's eye, that the kid was quick - probably one of the fastest warriors that Reeve had ever seen - but with a speed of that magnitude came the necessary drawbacks: Roxas'd exhaust his stamina more rapidly and, likely as not, his hits would be less effective. The fiends sitting there had all of eternity to get in that one lucky hit and then there'd be one less strange but sympathetic kid running about.

There was the chance that Roxas could get away before that happened, but fiends were legendary in their hatred for all living things. They didn't tire and never gave up once they'd seen the living and would pursue him until the end. If Roxas ran into a different group of fiends his problems would be compounded and he'd likely die there, attacked from all sides. Reeve needed to figure out a way for that to not happen. As skilled as the kid no doubt thought he was, there were some realities that couldn't just be done away with.

Like usual, his memories went straight into gossip-territory. It was the only useful stuff around for a situation such as this one. According to rumors, High Summoner Yuna had been blessed with odd bouts of luck where her party had successfully retreated from battle. Analysis of these rumors suggested that they were false but Reeve had listened carefully to what people said in bars and in brothels. Yuna's father, Braska had another Guardian besides the legendary Auron. He was Jecht... and told a curiously similar story to the one that Tidus spoke.

And, only whispered, was the vile, evil whisper that Jecht himself had become Sin. If such were the case, Tidus might have been able to confer some sort of protection upon High Summoner's Yuna party by his mere presence.

Well. That wasn't useful. At all.

Alright. He'd play along for now. The kid had neatly executed a rather acrobatic maneuver, jinking to the left -clearly leaving Reeve the option to head right. He did so, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Cura could be cast from quite a distance and restored stamina as well as physical hurts - no doubt it could prove useful. As well as reveal his presence but, ah, this was not the time for such cautious thoughts.

[Roxas]

_____________________________________________________
~“You can‘t catch me! I‘m the…Umm…yeah.”

The giants were on the move, and already they had intended to do some damage to Roxas. One of them was hesitant to make its move upon being in proximity of one of its fellow fiends. One of the massive iron fiends had wrapped both of its goliath like hands around the handle of its club before jumping up and slamming the massive weapon down. It only missed the boy by little, but quaked the ground under his feet that he could only dodge with a simple leap. This was not his first time fighting the fiends, so he knew perfectly well what to take note of.

Roxas had let his eyes go to the distance. It had taken him a while to see, but the distant figure behind the giants was retreating. To his imagination, it could only be the man who he simply given the order to “make a run for it.” It was good to see a plan come together, but like always, Roxas was no hero, and he was not one to toss his body in the line of fire for the sake of someone he did not know. He was simply a young man who did things his way, turned the pages of a book when he was ready, and because of this he mostly went by his own rules.

With the retreating figure not quite safe yet, Roxas had to make a good diversion.

His right hand had quickly went to his side, and within it he snatched his item from before. His shinning white Pocket Watch had fit into his palm as he took his thumb and plucked open the top to give it a flip revealing the hands that were moving in a fast motion that was beyond the natural movement of time. It was obviously not three thirty-seven in the morning, so when it came to telling time, the item was useless, but it actually had a nicer feature beyond that for a relic of a warrior of the “Justice Arts.” It had represented that time was not to be wasted dwelling in its symbolism, and those who acted quickly were those who took the hands of time and turned them at his or her own pace.

Roxas did just that…

With his left hand grasping one of his swords and his left thumb motioning to move one of the hands, the Iron Giant nearby was readily grasping its club as it saw him motionless and still. Upon leaping into the air with a massive roar and readying to slam its feet down secondly with its club, it was sure it was on its way to pummel Roxas with the massive weapon. Roxas thumb had flicked, and with that, the hands of time had been tampered with once again. The giant club struck the ground and sounded off like thunder to strike Roxas and…

…it missed…? The giant had been slightly confused lifting its body, but only to see Roxas was feet away from where it struck and gazing up at the giant while holding both of his swords. The giant had leaped up once again and aimed to slam the club upon Roxas head once more with massive force, the young blonde not moving an inch as he watched, and as it sounded off with a thunderous slam.

…another miss?

The giant had lifted its body up, this time, its hands wrapping around the club with pure frustration. The others followed upon finding themselves swinging their clubs only to miss as well. Continuously they had beat the land that the young blonde had ran upon as if they were trying to flatten it easy. It was repetitive, and based on their movements as they bent over and slammed their clubs at many random areas in a quicker succession each time, it was like watching the equivalence of fly swatting.

This technique was that of one of Roxas’s own skills that he had mastered; combining the refraction of light and the power of time to hasten one speed to move with incredible speed as if filled with the utmost vigor. He was actually moving so quickly that his body left after images that confused the giants as well as made it seem impossible to attack him physically. Roxas had done this many times before, and it was really quite a popular technique when it came to the young blonde and these giants since they were intent on using their physical attacks mostly.

After moving for quite a while, Roxas had figured he had bought sufficient time for the young man. With his eyes going to the distance, he had quickly taken off leaving another Lens Flare that the giants smashed at once again before seeing the image of the young blonde retreat to the other distant figure who was far away from him. It did not take long for Roxas to catch up, and if anything, the thought of reaching the next tower would be a relief. Haste magic only meant more stress on one’s body and running itself as he found himself almost out of breath

Upon catching up to the figure, Roxas had slowed his speed a little to match the paste as he vowed to have the young man’s back after all. This only left the giants to rush them as they aimed to catch up and finish trying to pummel the blonde child.

“Move…quickly.” he urged as he followed the man while looking behind them both trying to see how far the enemies were.

---

Listening to: ”Switchblade” by Prozzak
Chatty Ditz:May lack in quality because of how I feel now, but other than that, you understand the game of Whack-A-Mole for the lulz…[/size]

[Reeve Tuesti]

Fiends died before they ever lived.

In Spira, such a statement was an axiom, a thing so self-evident that none would dispute it. When killed, fiends turned into pyreflies - a clear a sign as any that even if they had once been amongst the living, they were no longer. One did not kill fiends - one eradicated them, cleansed them, Sent them. Such was had been the natural cycle of Spira, even before the advent of Sin and deadly spiral of death and despair that it had both enacted and represented. For generations, none had hoped for a true Calm, but rather brief interludes while Spira sheltered itself in the fragile embrace of peace that had been bought in bone and blood of Summoners and Guardians.

Fiends were the dead.

Fiends were dead.

But Spira was a strange, sad place.

And Truth was a fickle thing indeed.

v.v.v.v.v.v

Reeve was impressed.

To say the kid was fast was a laborious understatement. He seemed to vanish - there was a hint of hallucinogenic light-bending as the Protect fought to keep itself anchored, a speed so intense that such benign and trustworthy magic actually seemed to lose to slough off like so much useless hedge witchery or runic enchantment. The Iron Giants couldn't hope to touch him.

"Damn." Reeve whispered, more than a little awed.

It took a literal bolt of lightning to get him to stop watching. It slammed straight through his torso, setting his clothes alight and making his hair singe and stick out in what was no doubt the weirdest of positions. "Shit," the priest muttered, as he rolled/walked/crawled/ran. "Shit shit shit shit." His resistance to magic, a product of magical saturation that most mages were subject to, conferred upon him certain protections against energy-based attacks. It didn't mean it didn't hurt like a mother.

And worse, he was suddenly the target of three pairs of eyes.

Damn. It. All.

Reeve ran, his priestly robes still trailing smoke. The kid was saying something but-

[ooc: RL time constraints. Posts will be shorter. Note that we can't escape the Iron Giants for now.]

[Roxas]

_____________________________________________________
~“Things don‘t always go as planned. If it did, this wouldn‘t be a world.”

Roxas had slowed his run as he had found himself thinking, looking, observing the scene before him.

“Great…”

The words mutter at what he had seen. The sight of the priest damaged and injured as he tried to pick himself up continue to run along. However, this was difficult for him after sustaining injury from the bolt of lightening that had almost clipped Roxas had not his reaction been a sidestep. It was cowardly since he had taken witness to the man being struck, but for him to outrun lightening was not a miracle he could keep performing every moment, and with his eyes going back and forth to the giants, he did not much have a perfect aware state as usual.

His eyes had gone to the approaching giants while his swords had been in both hands. Their sights were set mercilessly upon the weakest and most helpless member being that of the priest. Roxas could not let them get their wish to strike him to death, especially in such a helpless state. It was like the sight of a wounded animal being approached by a pack of hungry carnivores that were taking advantage of ‘coincidence.” That’s now not how Roxas wanted to things to work, and the power of “Justice” was just what that power was to be used for.

Roxas speed was limited for two more runs…

With his eyes going to the giants who had seemed to caught up, his attention had went to the two who were traveling behind the leader of the pack. He had set his battle style to “stun” as if it was some kind of mode to his fighting. Quickly, he had used his speed to sweep past the very first Iron Giant who’s attention did not digress to the priest, and instead, he had quickly went to the attention of the second Iron Giant. He had made haste as he quickly leapt upwards with all his might. His swords whirling about as he struck the giant to stop it and make it be a usable wall for a kick as he let his body go to the next.

He stabbed.

The armor was tough, however, even that alone had its weakness. Roxas who had hung from the third Iron Giant’s armor had caught the attention of the second he had swiped at, but that’s all it was a simple distraction. The kid seemed good at using these. With himself only a had reach away from the third giant had to sway his chest, but before he could, the second had responded aggressively in a rage as it swung towards Roxas, towards the giant’s chest. With Roxas’s quick speed, all it had taken was a swing of his legs and a grasp of the hilt of the weapon and kicking off he had flew out of danger leaving the giant to attack its ally. That distraction seemed to send the second tumbling downed because of the heavy weaponry it carried that would ignore armor, but it would not let it remain down for long.

The first giant however seemed to be hastily upon approaching the downed priest which was something Roxas counted on.

One at a time, that was the key to taking on multiple enemies in a fight. As the massive armored fiend had approached the priest, Roxas had taken his pose as he readied for the massive warrior to attack, but had something waiting for him as well as to defend the priest. With the speed of the blonde haired boy, it was not hard at all to accomplish the task of trying to tend to two things at once, but he was not going to leave the man alone with this creature.

“Stay close…and try to heal yourself.” Roxas had encouraged while hiding his own weakness.

He was tired, nearly exhausted, but he did not plan on failing a mission. He did not fail any mission when it came to those staking their lives. His did not matter, but the lives that had higher purposes than him did, and a priest surely had a better purpose than to die in a charred and blackened field and being watched by helpless eyes of young Roxas. The blonde haired child’s right foot dug into the terrain and the light from his katana shimmered making a node in front of him appear as it had taken the shape of some sort of sword. It had hovered around the two as it emitted a strange light built energy.

It was not active at the moment, and for the sake of Roxas not expending anymore power, he hoped it would have to remain that way until they could move once more.

---

Listening to: ”Switchblade” by Prozzak
Chatty Ditz:[/size]