[ The Hideaway has ever been a busy place, but now it's even moreso as the skies have grown dark and aetherfloods have begun sprouting up in more and more places across Storm. The Cursebreakers are run thin between them and needing to rescue bearers, and their allies from bandits and the akashic. As is Clive, as he tries to be everywhere at once. So Joshua and Jill offered to take up some few of these missions in order to ease Clive's burden while he was needed elsewhere.
And it's here now that they find themselves at Martha's Rest, having spent days walking along the familiar roads of Rosaria to the next newly reported aetherflood. It was far into the evening when they finally arrived, deciding to travel the extra few miles to make it and rest in a bed rather than camping by the roadside again. And as soon as they make it to their room, after making sure Jill has settled, he lays down on his own bed, a dull pain thrumming in his chest, making his whole body feel heavy, a prickling pain and soreness in his muscles in using his aether to fight as they've traveled.
Fatigue takes Joshua more quickly now, travelling long distances and fighting slowly getting more difficult as his strength wanes even more with each passing day because of Ultima. But he doesn't complain, and does his best not to let it show, lest he worry Jill and Clive more than he already does, and because there is no choice but to keep moving.
And he falls asleep quickly, but tonight his rest is anything but the peaceful nights sleep he needs.
Hours pass, and he dreams of fire.
But not the comforting, healing fires of the Phoenix, but the destructive ones of a terrified child who'd seen his own father die right in front of him, his head cut off and land in the dirt but a few feet away. His own flames setting Phoenix Gate ablaze. It's a dream, but a fear, a panic rises up in his chest as if it were real to grip at his heart as he watches helplessly, unable to stop it, even as he tries, as he begs, as his flames kill the men, Sir Tyler, Sir Wade, Lord Murdoch, his own countrymen trying to escape, raining balls of fire, of death down on them.
Sparing no one.
And then he sees a young Clive in the middle of the those same flames, looking up at him as the world falls to death and ruin around him. The fire not yet consuming him, but surrounding him, flames licking at his cheek until eventually they burn him, leaving behind a mark, the brand of a bearer. Though his brother does not flinch as Joshua watches in horror. Instead his cobalt blue eyes reflect the yellow of the fires around him, looking a color of that of a Dominant who's lost control, gazing up at him with an expression so blank, and yet at the same time so deeply inlaid with sorrow, with hurt.
He yells for his brother to run, cries, begs for forgiveness as the castle comes crashing down around them in a blaze, for failing to keep his promise to his brother, to protect the duchy, his people, to protect their father. Failing to protect Clive. But all he hears is the Phoenix screech in his ears.
A tear rolls down his cheek as he sleeps, and a swell of heat and aether emanates from him as he lay curled up on his side as if he were a furnace, stoked with the hottest flames. A surge of fiery aether starts to course through his entire body, filling his chest, his lungs with the flames of the Phoenix as he gasps a soft cry into his pillow, his breath as hot as if he were a dragon about to spit fire. Cracks of molten fire start to spread across his skin, into his hair.
He's starting to prime.
But he doesn't know it, his usual sharp awareness completely swallowed up by the fear that's gripping his heart. And he won't be waking up on his own. ]
for @reasonandrime as we add to the angst pile
And it's here now that they find themselves at Martha's Rest, having spent days walking along the familiar roads of Rosaria to the next newly reported aetherflood. It was far into the evening when they finally arrived, deciding to travel the extra few miles to make it and rest in a bed rather than camping by the roadside again. And as soon as they make it to their room, after making sure Jill has settled, he lays down on his own bed, a dull pain thrumming in his chest, making his whole body feel heavy, a prickling pain and soreness in his muscles in using his aether to fight as they've traveled.
Fatigue takes Joshua more quickly now, travelling long distances and fighting slowly getting more difficult as his strength wanes even more with each passing day because of Ultima. But he doesn't complain, and does his best not to let it show, lest he worry Jill and Clive more than he already does, and because there is no choice but to keep moving.
And he falls asleep quickly, but tonight his rest is anything but the peaceful nights sleep he needs.
Hours pass, and he dreams of fire.
But not the comforting, healing fires of the Phoenix, but the destructive ones of a terrified child who'd seen his own father die right in front of him, his head cut off and land in the dirt but a few feet away. His own flames setting Phoenix Gate ablaze. It's a dream, but a fear, a panic rises up in his chest as if it were real to grip at his heart as he watches helplessly, unable to stop it, even as he tries, as he begs, as his flames kill the men, Sir Tyler, Sir Wade, Lord Murdoch, his own countrymen trying to escape, raining balls of fire, of death down on them.
Sparing no one.
And then he sees a young Clive in the middle of the those same flames, looking up at him as the world falls to death and ruin around him. The fire not yet consuming him, but surrounding him, flames licking at his cheek until eventually they burn him, leaving behind a mark, the brand of a bearer. Though his brother does not flinch as Joshua watches in horror. Instead his cobalt blue eyes reflect the yellow of the fires around him, looking a color of that of a Dominant who's lost control, gazing up at him with an expression so blank, and yet at the same time so deeply inlaid with sorrow, with hurt.
He yells for his brother to run, cries, begs for forgiveness as the castle comes crashing down around them in a blaze, for failing to keep his promise to his brother, to protect the duchy, his people, to protect their father. Failing to protect Clive. But all he hears is the Phoenix screech in his ears.
A tear rolls down his cheek as he sleeps, and a swell of heat and aether emanates from him as he lay curled up on his side as if he were a furnace, stoked with the hottest flames. A surge of fiery aether starts to course through his entire body, filling his chest, his lungs with the flames of the Phoenix as he gasps a soft cry into his pillow, his breath as hot as if he were a dragon about to spit fire. Cracks of molten fire start to spread across his skin, into his hair.
He's starting to prime.
But he doesn't know it, his usual sharp awareness completely swallowed up by the fear that's gripping his heart. And he won't be waking up on his own. ]