The Planets
Chapter 01: Mars, the Bringer of War
Chapter 02: Venus, the Bringer of Peace
Chapter 03: Mercury, the Winged Messenger
Chapter 04: Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity
Chapter 05: Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age
Chapter 06: Uranus, the Magician
Chapter 07: Neptune, the Mystic
Eager for contention, silly men will always find sillier distractions.
"Say, chum..."
"Don't call me that."
"Fair enough. So you're not a chum - what do I call you, then?"
If he had at no other time, Malos now quite violently wishes his eyes were purple, to smite the prince from Tantal where he stands, one arm laid across his chest (uselessly) and the other propped upon it, hand stroking his chin.
He stares for a few moments more, then (bedgrudgingly): "Malos."
"Right!" Zeke barks a laugh; Malos wishes he hated it more. "I can't complain about that."
Deep breath in...out. "What did you want?"
"Something about your old man, I think."
Which? "Save it."
"Fine by me. You wanna neck?"
When permitted, it is always grand to mete our past experiences.
"If you could decide one thing to change, about your life before the war, what would it be?"
It's easy for Noah to ask Shulk that. Shulk's the one who knew another time, once. Noah never has, never did. Maybe...
But Shulk sighs, passes a weary hand - too weary, for all how he's only eighteen or nineteen standing here untransported in the grass like nothing's out of place - around the back of his neck.
"I don't know," he admits. "My whole life is different, in retrospect. I was never alive, not really, so...so I can't say."
Then, they share a tentative smile. "But there's always the future." Always, with hope.
Any time is a time for reflection, but especially when you find one your own.
During the second battle at Sword Valley, Kallian and Dunban bring each other many things: troop movements, others' well wishes, food when the other has most surely forgotten to eat, and...bits of sentiment coming solely from themselves.
"This isn't how you were made to fly," Dunban comments idly; it's inane, as so many of his comments are, because no High Entia were made to fly at all, really.
"That's alright, Dunban," Kallian answers, without looking up. "You're here, so I'll have to make do."
"Only make do? Surely you've higher aspirations than that."
Now he turns back. "You're the hero, aren't you?"
"I- no, not really."
"So it's alright, then."
Greeted by humor and love, confusion soon dissipates, fades away.
"You know what I've been wonderin'?"
Crossing, rolling, stretching appendages, Lanz studies Reyn fondly for a bit, before bidding him to continue: "Tell me."
(They're both rather unaware of how mirrored their idiosyncrasies are; like recognizes like, but apparently not with these two.)
"It's a little stupid, but if we're so hard-headed, it made me think - what'd happen if a Mechon bashed you over your skull?"
Lanz blinks. "You're...interested in this?"
"Hey!" Reyn grins, holds up his hands faux defense. "Professional curiosity here, c'mon! I may be a big lunk, but I usually try to protect my dome."
"Okay, Reyn," Lanz relents at last. "We'll train later. You'll find out."
Seek solace always, and when you most need it you might just find it.
"So you'll never get old, huh?"
Whether or not Minoth's wry demeanor will put one ill at ease is always a toss-up: here and now, Ziggy could snip back affront, or he could roll with the apparent insincerity and jab back exactly in kind.
"I wouldn't say it's a question of age. It's more...how long I can last until I fail to remain useful to those who created me."
At that, Minoth sits back, sighs. "Sounds nicer my way. But, maybe I'm just making excuses. Deluding myself..."
"Not at all. You're still very admirable, for handling the situation you're in."
"You would know, wouldn't you?"
"For once, I'm glad to."
The fool is untouchable, and the most beloved of all.
"Hey, do that trick again, would you?"
Id snorts, looks away. "I don't do 'tricks'."
The bridge room of the Yggdrasil is surprisingly empty; he could indeed do it, if he felt like it. Whatever it is.
No, Id doesn't have half any idea what it is Bart wants, but the pirate prince - no, more king now, isn't it? or did they disband that? probably did, and maybe that's even admirable - is grinning far too lazily and cocking his head far too cheekily.
Then he straightens up. "Suit yourself, I suppose, but it seemed like magic to me."
"Huh?" Annoyingly handsome man.
"Oh, did you forget that time you kissed me?"
Immaterial, largely, are the dates in memory space.
"You are...a very interesting being, chaos."
"And this is a very interesting place."
So agreeable, he is. It's only space. Only memory space.
No other place would suit better, for them to go.
"Should I ask an ice-breaker?"
"If you wish."
"What do you think your special talent is?"
Special? The Ontos core of the Trinity Processor has never been particularly concerned with specialness, with a role.
"I suppose I encourage others well." To find knowledge...
The bright, boyish being smiles. "I like that. And what about for me?"
His talent? No, his question. There is only one.
The computer sighs, grinds its gears. "Why don't you capitalize your name?"