Joshua Rosfield (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
undyingflames) wrote2023-08-22 02:50 am
undyingflames) wrote2023-08-22 02:50 am
Open Post // Overflow
Feel free to hit me up with anything!! I'm honestly always down for anything ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡
I've finished the game so spoilers are totally fine, though be careful looking in here if you haven't beaten it yet!
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. ]
no subject
Then, she feels the heat; she sees the light of flames and hears those small, gasping cries, all coming from a single source, and she's filled with a different kind of dread.
Adrenaline still guides her as her mind roils with a chaotic melding of confusion with concern. She damned near flings herself out of bed, tripping over her sheets and hitting the ground with a thud, with a curse. The shock sets her mind right, though, and as she pushes herself to her feet she's better positioned to take in the whole scene before her.
No danger. No threat. Just a man whose heart set itself so ablaze while he slept that the resulting smoke of a nightmare choked out everything but whatever terror had gripped him as he slept unawares.
Jill moves with the same speed but greater urgency. The heat is intense but not oppressive – she's experienced worse in Beinn Leodladh – so she pushes right through it to sit on the edge of Joshua's bed. With one hand kept at the ready just in case she startles him into lashing out, Jill places her other hand on his shoulder and gives it a gentle shake.]
You're all right, Joshua. We're still at Martha's Rest. But I need you to wake up, do you understand?
[She speaks softly, her voice barely rising above that of a whisper so as to hide the fear within. The balance she's trying to strike is precarious in ways that mingle with the heat to make her feel queasy. All she can do is maintain an absolute focus on him, searching for any signs of his mind guiding him towards respite or further into ruin. All the while, she mentally prepares herself to shift, too, should the Phoenix prove to be more in control than his Dominant.]
no subject
For whatever mercy that it is, he isn't priming instantly, unlike when they usually call on their powers. His body far too exhausted, not having the strength to properly channel the flux and surge of aether. Instead, it spreads like a wildfire through his body, slowly catching and consuming every piece him until he's naught to be but fire itself.
So he continues to fall further into ruin.
His fear is palpable, taking the form in the aether and heat that emanates from him, hanging in the air like embers from a hearth. Low flames start to rise along his body, rolling across the cracks in his skin, his clothes, but not burning him, rather as a part of him. They lick at Jill’s hand where she touches him, singeing the bedsheets under him.
His breathing turns uneven, labored, petrified, soft whimpers with fear as in his mind's eye, the fire warps Clive's image, twisting and pulling at it like a mirage in the Velkroy until Joshua sees his brother, dressed in a Sanbreque uniform, his brand illuminated by the fires around him. The life in his eyes is gone, filled with the pain and anger of a man who was forced into a life of servitude by their mother, left to rot in the Sanbreque army, forced to kill, with no desire to live, but only doing it that he might avenge his brother. ]
Clive, I-- [ His voice meek, wavering with his tears and echoing slightly, the Phoenix buried just underneath. Falling further. He turns his cheek harder into the pillow, away from Jill, curling in on himself. ]
no subject
Such has been the nature of her journey since she began it five years earlier, but Jill's never felt it to these depths before. If Joshua won't wake to a gentle touch and soft-spoken words, then that leaves her with a choice between two extremes: jolting him awake with a raised voice and a more intense shaking, or easing him cold with her own aether.
When the flames rise – when they kiss he fingers and grow so hot that she has to pull away – she realises that believing she had a choice was a fool's notion. There was only ever going to be one solution to the matter at hand.
Still, she hesitates; still, fear grips her in ways she can't immediately push through. Worst case scenarios blaze through her mind like the flames of an unconquerable wildfire, and nothing she does is enough to hold them at bay.
So, she might as well just march through them and put all her faith in her ability to endure should they threaten to engulf her in full. Summoning forth every ounce of will she has, she calls upon her magic to try and chill the Phoenix's flames into submission.]
no subject
And it's enough. Though he still doesn't wake, it's enough for him to feel it, some small part of his mind prickling with awareness at the sensation. His consciousness starting to teeter and he starts to feel the draw of aether from within himself too, as it fills him, spreads through him in a blaze. The Phoenix's trills echoing in his head as it's brought closer to the surface.
The familiar feeling, that shouldn't be happening, that has no reason to be, turns his fear to panic. Though much like when a cold breeze would try to wake him in the night, he doesn't wake to close the window. Instead, he tries to curl up tighter on himself, trying to trap the warmth and turn away from the cold.
The nightmare changes with his panic, his mind twisting and pulling at Clive's image again when the fires surrounding him suddenly roar and shoot up in a column of fire. Consuming his brother. Joshua's heart drops, another pulse of aether. Another quiet sob.
A growl reverberates through the air, through what feels like his very body as if it were real, low, deep and guttural. And through the fires Joshua can see as two yellow eyes staring back at him, haunting, filled with an uncontrolled anger. His breathing quickens, every sense of alarm and fear rising until he's pushing past the veil of consciousness that has him trapped. ]
No!! [ His voice comes out desperate and panicked, eyes snap open, normally light blue now burning with blue eikonic power, and he abruptly throws himself into a sitting position, yelling out for something that was never there. He pushes his way past Jill's hand. He doesn't see her, his mind still coming out of the clutches of the nightmare.
And in an instant the aether is gone, his priming stopped, like a flame abruptly blown out.
He tries to breathe but it has him instantly reeling. His body in shock. Already at the point of exhaustion and weariness, combined with his current condition, unable to handle the drastic change of aether like that anymore. He grasps at his chest, his heart pounding from the adrenalin of his dream still and in an almost violent shock of pain erupting from the shard, through his chest, he gasps, straining to suck any air in and a painful coughing fit rips its way out of his throat. He manages to bring a hand up to cover his mouth in time as blood comes up with it. ]
no subject
Mostly adrenaline, if she's being honest with herself.
With the same abundance of care as before, Jill moves to the front and side of Joshua, placing one hand on his shoulder, the other on his knee – softly, gently, like he's a broken-winged bird and all too easy to spook. There's a tremble to her hands that she can't steady, and she takes a moment to curse herself for what feels like a lapse, even if she has managed to remain ahead of everything. For the most part, anyway.]
You're all right, Joshua.
[He's not; she knows this far too well, and that understanding only swells as the smell of blood rises from where it spills into his palm. Everything about him rebels against something so viciously that she can't imagine there's a single part of him that feels anywhere close to all right.
So, she adds:]
You're awake now.
[It's no more helpful, she knows, but at least it feels more honest.]
no subject
It almost feels like a panic attack, and in truth, part of it probably is. His nightmare-ensnared mind still trapped in a fog, still high on the alarm and panic at the height of his dream that he's only just woken from, now amplified by this surge of pain and the fact that he can't catch his breath. And it keeps him there, startled and confused and panicked, rattling him with every harsh cough that leaves him.
But then he feels a touch to his shoulder and his knee, gentle and careful, and a voice, faint behind his heartbeat pounding in his ears, but soft, and perhaps trembling. It's Jill.
You're awake now.
He grasps and holds onto her voice, her touch like a lifeline through the haze to focus. Between one of his coughs, he tries to take a much harder, deeper, still strained, but controlled breath, and finally, he starts to slow. He coughs a few more times, a few smaller ones bubbling up from his chest, before, after a long moment, stopping completely.
And he keeps breathing like that, keeping his hand at his chest, his back and shoulders rising in long, albeit still a bit shaky and labored, breaths, and allows the other that's covered in blood to fall to the mattress. Eventually all the tension in his muscles give way to the fading adrenaline and he slumps forward slightly. The sharp pain pulsing out from Ultima's prison fades away with each quieting heartbeat until all that's left is an ache and soreness ringing through his body in exhaustion.
But whatever relief there may've been is overtaken by a feeling of dread as his mind finally clears enough and he realizes what just happened. ]
J-Jill... [ He breathes out her name, his voice wavering slightly, and looks up to her, a new fear reflecting in his light blue eyes ] I... D-Did I almost... [ Prime? ]
no subject
Would that she could soothe his lungs, though, or quiet the curse enough that he ceased to bleed. Would that she could do anything besides stand here and hope against the reality that the latter might have spread – that even in sleep he's not safe from a fate that would see him taken from this world well before his time.
But she can't think like that. Whatever has happened, he's managing his way through it, and though her name may come out more like a breath than a word, it's progress enough for her to make it into a lifeline of her own. A way to ground herself in the present and not in a grief-coloured future.
When he manages to speak again, her answer comes quick.]
I think so, yes.
[She's almost sure of it, really, but the existence of that almost is enough to keep her from being more decisive. Not that it matters either way; he was still set aflame before her, fissures of aether crackling all across his skin.]
Let me get you some water. [As she rises, she asks:] How are you feeling now?
no subject
He's all but certain.
He almost primed.
The Phoenix awoke in him when he was young and as a Dominant, calling on it's power was as natural as breathing. It's power like a current, powerful, sometimes too strong for a body as frail as his once was (and is now again), but entirely under his control as he willed it.
But this... He'd only felt it like this once before, that night at Phoenix Gate, as he watched a man kill his father right in front of him. The swell of unchecked and uncontrollable aether in his body, fanning the flames of his own emotions, when he'd only been but a child, to the point of turning them into a raging firestorm within himself until that's all he was.
But... in his sleep, Joshua didn't even think it possible. At his most vulnerable when he had no sense to stop it, hadn't realized it was even happening. That his mind could twist his memories and trauma into a nightmare so terrible he'd nearly been swallowed up by it. And had Jill not woken him... it scares -- terrifies him to think of what could've happened, the destruction he would've caused...
Again. ]
I... [ He swallows. His eyes look back down towards the bed under him and he turns his bloodied hand to see his palm and fingers painted red, hesitant in his answer.
What reassurances he would usually offer her are gone, stripped away by the nightmare. There is no hiding behind false words of comfort, nor what composure and clear mindedness he usually carries, because not even he can convince himself to say it. The fear, the nightmare and memories it dredged up have torn a scar that he'd thought long healed open again as fresh, gaping wound. The feeling of Ifrit's yellow eyes still boring into his minds eye with so much anger and rage. ]
I-I don't know, Jill... I... [ His voice still a little breathless, trembling. ]
no subject
Never in her life has she seen him this broken; never in her worst imagination could she have envisioned him looking so lost and distraught, in need of something that simply doesn't exist. Not in the world they live in, anyway.
But she knows she can't think like that – can't get mired in an incomprehensible pain that doesn't even belong to her. For now, she needs to centre herself in his anguish, unfamiliar to her though it may be, and support him in whatever ways he'll allow for.]
All right. It's all right. Take however much time you need.
[It's still not all right, she knows, but what other words are there? All she can do is try her very best to hold him together so that he doesn't turn to dust before her eyes.]
no subject
He's so much taller than her now and yet... he feels so terribly small in her arms, as if he were ten years old again. But her presence, her touch are grounding, comforting pulling him away from the nightmare that whispers for his attention in his mind, to be brought back here, to this moment.
But, with the adrenaline and furnace that'd been burning bright under his skin now gone, he can feel a cold now settling in around him, making a home in his chest. It's an unnatural, yet still familiar chill that clings to Jill, to her clothes, her skin, and wraps around him in the same embrace. A frigidness and subtle aether that hangs in the air and cools his lungs with every breath. It isn't just cool night air, but...
Shiva.
In the myriad of sensations and emotions when he woke up, he'd forgotten the cold he'd felt in his sleep, the numbing, frigid cold that creeped through the heat of the fires that raged inside him. And it was Jill. She'd woken him up. He'd been so lost to his own nightmare, to his own dreams that Jill had been forced to use her ice to combat the flames that burned inside of him -- and outside.
The fear and guilt that had only just begun to barely calm overwhelms him again in a rush and it feels as though it punches straight through his chest.
He'd almost just primed, nearly lost control of his Eikon again... nearly forced Jill to endure something so horrifically cruel. To bare witness as Joshua rained fire and ash, death and destruction while he would've remained blind and deaf to it all, consumed by the Phoenix. And she would've had to fight him in order to stop him... and he would've fought back, tried to hurt her, kill her... just as he did Clive. Just as they had to do with Dion.
And it scares him, terrifies him.
His eyes begin to well up with renewed tears that spill down his cheeks as he squeezes his eyes shut. He twists a little in her hold until his face is ducked down between her neck and shoulder, pressing strawberry blonde hair into her cheek, and brings his not bloodied hand around her back to grip her shoulder. ]
I'm sorry -- I'm so sorry... [ Joshua's always had a certain with words, but now it all feels so lost to him, and at the same time, don't feel like enough. ]
no subject
Her grip on him tightens as much as she feels comfortable with, knowing the limitations of his strength and the way the curse has eaten away at his own flesh. One hand moves to cradle the back of his neck, her fingers gentle in his hair, gracing him with the soft touch of a loving sister. Like this, she wishes she could absorb his pain, make it her own, endure it on his behalf, because she knows there aren't really any words to make it go away.
Still, she tries anyway. Words are the only other thing she has.]
No, Joshua, don't apologise. There's naught to forgive.
[Which may seem falsely soothing, a little white lie cast between them to obfuscate the truth. When she tries to picture herself in his position, she wonders if her own mind would have roiled at the thought, too overwhelmed by a misplaced sense of self-flagellating disgust to grasp onto kinder truths.
Even so, she means it wholly. There's not a single part of her that blames Joshua for what happened. He could be the most strong-willed person in the whole of the world and still lack the power to overcome his dreams. Such is simply the way things are.]
Focus on yourself for now, all right? I'm here, we're both safe, and all else can wait.
no subject
But even still... the guilt and fear fights back in full force, makes it harder to let her words and touch comfort him, makes it so terribly hard to focus on anything else. Because he can't forgive himself. However much it may've been out of his control, and however much he understands that. Just as it was at Phoenix Gate, being nothing more than a child who'd had to bear witness to a betrayal of his countrymen, to horrors beyond his imagining, their minds aren't theirs to control when they sleep, nor whatever memories their dreams take form of.
But... just as with Phoenix Gate, it was still Joshua who rained fire down on Phoenix Gate before Ifrit ever came, killing so many of his own people who'd looked to him for strength, as their future leader, as the Phoenix... nearly killed Clive... And he shoulders that blame and guilt, he always has, and does now, nearly having done that to Jill.
He holds her a little tighter, a little closer, another silent apology he can't put to words as the tears spill over faster down his cheeks and he lets out a muffled cry into her shoulder. Shiva's cold -- Jill's cold a balm against the heat of the flames, more welcoming and comforting now than a fire could ever be. ]
...I-I dreamt of that night, Jill. [ It comes spilling out, like a confession, like he's trying to explain, his voice raw. ] Of Phoenix Gate. A-And I cannot bear the thought that I...
[ The words get caught in his throat and he lets out another small breath to cry. ] That I could have hurt you as I have hurt -- killed so many others, I--
no subject
I know. We're all too strong for our own good, and beholden to whims beyond our reckoning. But this time you fought yourself, Joshua. Even in your dreams, you refused to relinquish full control. It takes but a moment to prime, but I had time enough to stop you. Believe in that, if nothing else.
[Here, she presses the gentlest of kisses to the crown of his head, then smiles softly before pulling back to rest her chin in the very same place. She thinks about how much easier this was when he was small and could better fit into her arms. Their pains were so much simpler then, quickly soothed away with love and hugs and smiles alone. What she wouldn't give for the slightest taste of that simplicity now.
And maybe she could try to grasp onto that now. Find a light in the darkness. A glimmer of hope. But she's been doing that for five years now, and she knows that it's an ineffective salve. The pain always returns. The nightmares always leave their reminders. So, she doesn't search for ways to make things easier. Instead, she embraces the complexities.]
Maybe we should talk about what happened at Phoenix Gate.