Difference between revisions of "POVs Of Dreams and Mind Control"

Latest revision as of 15:35, 9 January 2013

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
It was a rather tough fight for both girls last time, so when they walk back in, the first thing that is of note is how they duck out quite rapidly to get a change of clothes. It would be hard not to, with electrified floors, gas, bullet rains and missle armageddon, the clothes they were wearing could probably be qualified as 'vestigal'. Aka, offering decency but set about 2 millenias back by fashion.

So its no surprise when they come back a bit after, refreshed into new, better fitting clothes. Tifa finds her way back behind the bar, checking on how Rinoa held the fort while they were gone.

Aerith has posed:
Fortunately for Aerith, she had another pair of jeans and a similar jacket... just with a bright green, short sleeved shirt this time. Not only that, but her braid was out due to having taken a shower and her not giving two licks about putting it back up. "Okay... that megalixer helped quite a bit... I'm still sore, though."

Jecht has posed:
Jecht's been asleep at his customary table for the past couple hours. The older man's been working pretty hard lately around both the bar and the city; odd jobs, weird mercenary stuff...adventurer crap. He tends to come back and crash in the bar with a bottle of milk, and just sort of not bother anyone unless he gets bothered first. You'd think he was just your ordinary drunk, except for how he hasn't had a drop of alcohol since he met Tifa the first night, generally smells more like sweat than booze, and has the look of a hard-working adult instead of a shiftless drunk.

Rinoa Heartilly has posed:
Rinoa has been taking care of the bar in their absence..With the inn recently added on, things have been busier than ever. She'd noticed the drunk sleeping for a while but didnt want to bother him. As long as he doesnt cause trouble she's fine. When the girls return, she smiles and waves. "Hey guys, how'd it go?"

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart smiles "Oh, we lived, i think that's good enough for now. We still have to tail those guys down a bit more for actual results though." She shakes her head. She noties Jecht there, and takes a fresh pint of milk from the fridge, and playfully slides the cold glass on the bare back, grinning a bit.

Aerith has posed:
Aerith sighed and headed for the bar. "Just wish that one lady would just sit still..." She glanced over her right shoulder, toward Tifa. "So remind me again. This stuff is all about Legion and who... or what... she really is, right?"

Jecht has posed:
COLD.

Jecht sits straight up, eyes opening; he nearly knocks over his /original/ glass, Blitzballer reflexes on display as the glass wobbles, wavers, and then is suddenly snagged in hand, stabilized by lightning-fast motion. The Blitzball King lets out a sigh of relief before turning around to frown up at Tifa.

"Gods, woman, I'm tired! I was up in the slums helping that Johnny kid patch up his wall all day, least you could do is let me have a nap!" He's not really angry, of course, but he does a pretty good job faking it. He stands up with the (mostly) empty glass of milk and heads to clean it off himself in the sink, nodding at Rinoa and Aerith as he does so. "Hey. What time is it? I'd say 'morning' but I don't think it is."

Jecht sticks the glass in the sink, turning it on and grabbin a rag to wash it himself. He didn't much like being a burden on people; he was the stubborn sort of guy who did everything for himself, unwilling to be a pain for anyone. "So what happened? You ladies went out to fight? Oh, uh, hi. Nice to meet you. Jecht. Sorta boarding here. Famous Guardian. You mighta heard of me." He sticks out his hand at Rinoa absently. He's not really much for...prim and proper.

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart shakes her head at Jecht "You could use one of the beds upstairs you know, instead of sleeping in the bar." She says kindly "Would be more comfortable than a table, but I could take that as a compliment as well, about how even my tables are good enough to sleep on top of." She grins.

She looks over to Aerith "I'm not entirely sure either Aerith. Honestly there is so muchback and forth that Ihave troubles following at times. But at least I'm there to help.

Rinoa Heartilly has posed:
Rinoa chuckles a bit. "Soo, what happened exactly, up there? anything exciting?" she scratches her head, "Who is Legion?" She blinks when Jecht suddenly bolts up. "Oh hey, are you alright? You've been out of it for a while..It's now past ten.." She chuckles at Tifa's comment. "Yeah, we're an inn now too! We've got a few vacancies but it's filling up fast!"

Aerith has posed:
Aerith smiled. "Rin, get him squared away. I'll tell you all about this one odd little duckling I met earlier... calls herself some of the strangest names." That's not even mentioning what she'd seen... but never mind that. That was between flowergirl and littlegirl.

Neviril has posed:
The door opens, a bit harshly, and a soft dark chill flies through the room as a Dark Knight enters the room. But this Dark Knight looks different, the armor is dusty, notched, and looks as if it has spent some time in a wasteland. But the oddest thing is the knight isn't wearing a helmet, her face on full display for anyone to see, and recognize if they'd seen her before, the helmet hangling from her sword hilt loosely. Her face is twisted in pain and suffering, her hair tangled and messy, dirty and unkept. Her eyes, puffed and swollen, a dirty face with the only appears of clean is the strains of tear lines running in all jagged down her face, making her look more like some lost unkept orphan then a glorious Dark Knight.

But in she walks, taking a few steps, struggling to stay upright. She moves, as though weak, with little sleep, and nothing but determination to keep her going. She looks around, as if searching for someone, then spotting Aerith. She takes a few more steps, before droping to her knees, her voice weak and cracking, "Heelp me.. please." Kneeling on all fours, breathing softly and hoping those that where once her enemies, will have the heart to help her now, in her time of need.

Jecht has posed:
"Old habits die really really hard," Jecht replies as he continues scrubbing the glass. "Used to sleep in bars all the time. Liked to, even. There's kind of a...a charm about sleeping in a bar. I dunno what it is, something about the - of course I know it's a inn! I stay here!"

He does, too! Usually sleeps in a room, but sometimes he sleeps overtime in the bar. "Anyway, sort of fun to sleep in a bar. Got this atmosphere that puts me right to sleep. People comin' together to spill their miseries into the glass and to the barkeep...like we're all the same when we're good and plastered. The human spirit, huh?"

Jecht waves his hand at Aerith and Rinoa. "I'm not that old, y'know! I'm not some old-timer who's gotta be put to bed or out to pasture." He blinks as the Dark Knight stumbles into the bar. "...uh...any of you know her?"

Aerith has posed:
Suddenly, doors opened!

Aerith turned, and took note of the battered armor, the dirtied face, the desolate features. It wasn't long before she realized who this was... it was a face she'd seen before in Deling City. That, plus the armor, made it clear who she'd fought in the Dwarf's Woodlands. And from the utter despair on her face, something... horrible had happened during then and now.

"Yeah, I know her." She peered toward Tifa. "We might want to spare one more room, Tifa." Aerith directed her gaze back toward the warrior at her feet. "Never got your name, you know."

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart looks toward Nevi's entrance, hmming. Hasn't she seen her somewhere? Well, Aerith seems to think so at least "Well we still got a few room for her, so it's fine." She moves over to help the wandering knight up, offering a shoulder "Let's get you up there first of all."

Rinoa Heartilly has posed:
Rinoa chuckles at Jecht's comment. "Hehe, sorry, I suppose it's alright if you wanna sleep down here..As long as you dont cause trouble.." She peers at him when he says he's not old. Well, he's a lot older than all of them combined!

When the doors open and a familiar dark knight steps in,Angelo, who has been quietly napping in a corner, gets up and growls and barks at the dark knight. Oh, she rememberse this one from before. Rinoa also frowns, although when she sees the woman is hurt, she steps forward with a hi potion.

"Oh..Are you alright? What happened to you?"

Neviril has posed:
Neviril is helped up, slowly standing, her voice still weak, "I am.. I was Neviril, The Dark Knight. One of the elites of Baron.. I, I am not her anymore. I am Nevi now." she looks towards Aerith, "You.. you broke her. You, changed her, us.. Something, I don't know. Things don't make sense anymore anywhere." She lets out a sad sigh, "I don't know what is going on. But, I knew this place was safe. We.. I came here. Can't go back to Baron.. atleast not yet, they wouldn't understand.." Confusing being the least of her problems.

Jecht has posed:
Jecht is a good man. He wasn't a very good father - he'd never been a very good father, and he was starting to wonder if he'd even been a terribly good husband back when he lived in Zanarkand - but he was a good man. He didn't much care to see people living in pain. The old man sighs and puts the glass to the side, going under the bar for some first aid resources. "Sounds to me like she needs a bandage and a trip to the funhouse," Jecht observes under his breath as he fetches the stuff. A bandage soaked in water should probably help, if he remembered his time with Braska. Braska stopped to help a lot of people like this; taught him a little about basic first aid. Plus, Jecht hada lot of experience with first aid administration from the *receiving* end anyway; Auron had used to say that there weren't a lot of people who could claim to be field medics because they got clobbered so regularly.

Jecht's lip quirks upwards in an involuntary grin despite the grim proceedings.

"Alright, alright. Get her over here...let's see if we can't sort out Captain Crazy and get her bandaged up, huh?" Jecht gestures for them to bring the girl over to a table; he carries whatever meager first aid kit the bar has over to it, sitting down.

Aerith has posed:
Aerith helped her onto the table, considering for a moment her words. She was planning on going back to Baron after all this time? They probably thought her deserted, since she didn't come back with them during their retreat and her body was never recovered. In fact, she wouldn't put it past them to kill her on sight. Aerith shook her head with a gentle, sad smile "Of course they wouldn't understand, and they never will." She peered at Nevi for a moment. "Tyrants don't try to understand."

She was just like Kaydin right now. It might pain her to hear that though, so Aerith held that comment in check. "You said you needed my help. Specifically." The smile became less melancholic. "What can I do for you?"

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart leaves Nevi to Aerith, since she seems to be the most apt at helping right now. She smiles, and goes to get the two some tea ready. She brings it back into two cups, adding the drop of honey in each to sweeten them "Here, that should help." She moves back to the counter, looking at jecht "How about you, milk only or you interested in tea? Never know, you might like it." And Jecht really doesn't look that old. Considering Tifa and Aerith are both in their early 20s, adding them together would probably overshoot the poor Jecht.

Rinoa Heartilly has posed:
Rinoa arches a brow at the others. "Hmm, this reminds me of a certain other ex Baron knight.." Still, they have to help her dont they? "Nevi, huh? What happened to you? Did Baron do this to you?"

Neviril has posed:
The knight nods slowly and looks towards Aerith and Rinoa, after listening to her words, "You.. you broke her. I don't know how to explain it... exactly to someone that's never done it." she sighs, "The dark power changes you, alters, and corrupts. Neviril, is that dark energy, given form. She became who we where." she shakes her head at Rinoa, and points to Aerith, "She was broken, because of her. She, couldn't understand why, why it happened. And then, I woke up, and was in a desert. I knew Baron wasn't safe, so I came here. I knew you all would be here, and I hoped that you would help us." she looks up with the most pitifull eyes, "I'm sorry for all we've done. But the armor, compells, and demands."

Jecht has posed:
"Sure, tea sounds good." Jecht might be an older man (he still wasn't sure of his age on account of that whole SIN thing - who knew that spending time as the core of an endlessly powerful space whale would mess with your aging rates?), but he wasn't so old that he couldn't try new things. He pulls out some bandages and starts working them around wherever Neviril is wounded, suppressing a roll of his eyes with more willpower than he's needed in some time. She might have been repentant legitimately, but it was sort of hard to really believe that an ambulatory magic armor controlled her and made her change her name and do bad things. People forced into mind control, as far as Jecht knew, didn't usually change their names when they were forced to do bad things.

He motions to Tifa quietly with his free hand. "Does milk go in tea? Let's try some of that." He really didn't want to think about his own experience being a monster. Still, something about this sort of rang false to him...but, oh well. Rush in and trust, and pay for it later, like he'd always done. He wasn't about to stop living the way he'd decided he should just because he was getting old.

Aerith has posed:
Oh no. No no no no...

Aerith allowed her face to drop into a disheartened expression. "She's split in two." It wouldn't be easy to get this solved, not by a long shot. And this... this Nevi... she seemed afraid of what she was. It was a feeling Aerith was all too familiar with. But one had to remember that she'd put this on herself...

Yet she still felt compelled to do something.

"What happens when you try to fight it?" It was the first question she needed to ask. Nevi probably hadn't even tried at all, but she had to know for certain.

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart nods to Jecht "Sure, you can put milk in tea, but its good as it is too, try a sip." She smiles and serves him a cup of it, addingthe drop of honey for the sweetening of it. "There are many kinds of teas mind you, its a matter of finding those you like sometimes.

Rinoa Heartilly has posed:
Rinoa continues to administer the potion to Neviril..Or rather 'nevi's' wounds as Jecht wraps them up. "Thanks. Hey, Nevi, can I get you something to eat or drink as well? Perhaps some hot chocolate will calm you down.."

She's not really sure if they can trust this one, even if she IS suffering from some weird split personality but..The bar's supposed to be a neutral, welcoming place. They can hardly abandon her.

She listens to Aerith's questions, thinking the same thing.."Sounds like this darkness, if you fight it, can make you go mad, maybe?"

Neviril has posed:
Neviril shakes her head, "It's not something you can fight, it's always there. I don't have this for nothing," she wiggles her tentacle, "But, to fight the urge to become Neviril is sometimes hard. Not even more, she wants her revenge, to prove that her attacks are infalluable. But, she's still mad, she just still trying to understand." she nods at Rinoa, "Yes.. yes please that be nice." then back to Aerith, "I don't think, we can ever be cured of it. But, maybe, we can atleast attone, and.. and try to steam the hatred, and the disgust that lingers in us."

Aerith has posed:
Aerith shook her head. "So you do know humility... but not all of you." She sighed and took a few steps toward Nevi, running a hand along her forehead. "Do you know why you're doing what you're doing? Why a once good ruler is giving out these terrible orders?" The things that Kaydin told her were beginning to make much more sense now. Something had happened to the old king, and the perpetrators knew exactly how to hide this act from the knights, the people, and everyone else.

Jecht has posed:
SHE HAS A TENTACLE

SHE HAS
A TENTACLE

GOOD PEOPLE DO NOT HAVE TENTACLES WHAT EVEN THE HECK

Jecht's eyes are just staring directly at the STRANGE WIGGLING TENTACLE. He's trying really hard /not/ to comment on the fact that she has a STRANGE WIGGLING TENTACLE as he finishes bandaging her up. He ties off the bandage - it's a pretty amateur job, but passable. Jecht stands up and shakes his head. Okay. Sure.

"Doesn't really sound like you were controlled," Jecht replies offhandedly as he heads over to wash his hands of her blood. He scrubs a little bit, a frown on his face. The water had started to bother him lately. Water in general bothered him lately. It reminded him of those days.

"Sounds to me lke you want to be controlled. Or you're lying." Jecht shrugs, focusing harder on the water. Waves...waves, foam, blood in the water, little floating pieces of silverware buildings in the surf, blood in the water, blood-

He shakes his head, snapping it upwards to stare at Tifa. Then he dries his hands and takes the tea from her, raising it to his lips. Tifa - and anyone else paying particular attention to Jecht - might notice that his hands are, very subtly, shaking as he does so. "...'sgood," Jecht admits after a moment. "Pretty sure I haven't had a drink in this bar I didn't like, though." He grins, then sits back down, a little ways away from Neviril.

"...people under outside influence don't act like that," Jecht says after a moment, kicking his feet up on his table and swinging back in his chair into a relaxing state. "They don't beg you to forgive the other thing in their head, and they sure don't try to atone with one hand while cryin' that they can't be saved in another. Unless they're weak."

Jecht closes his eyes. The Hymn began echoing in the back of his mind, in that little piece of his mind that still wasn't his own. No, he didn't have any sympathy for this girl; he'd fight his own curse till his last breath, and if he ever said the words 'I'll never be rid of it' he'd just gut himself right then and there.

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart understands a bit what Jecht means, but that was a little harsh "... He has a point I guess, but I can't say I understand the situation she's in either..." She sighs a bit "But he's right about being determined. You can't be sitting between the two. It seems you'll face the darkness again, what will do you when it happens? Say there's nothing you can do about it and let it take you over again? Or try to find a way to let the two sides coexist without being controlled by either?"

Neviril has posed:
The woman shakes her head, "I am not so humble. I was born and raised a Noble of Baron, we have always looked down upon others, that simply is the way it is. But this is different. After I doned the armor, and became a Dark Knight, I truly changed." she shakes her head and looks at Jecht, "You DONT understand! The darkness amplifies the bad parts of you, makes them far far worse. The longer you've been under it's control, the more you accept the power, the worse it becomes. I was a noble, I wanted power, it gave me power! Before I realised how bad it was, I was not me anymore, I was her." she sighs and shakes her head, they probbaly would never truly understand it, and she looks at Aerith, "There is no king, I don't know who or what that is, but he's not the king I left that day. I don't know what's going on, but Baron wants power, and control, and that is what it's doing."

She sighs, "To be controlled, is easy, to fight control is hard. When one has been controlled so long, you can't just fight it. You are given what free time you have, then taken back. She threw the helmet off in rage, and I was able to breath, to move. She doesn't want to come back now. She's disgusted at her failure, and so I came to seek help. Wether anything can be done or not."

Aerith has posed:
Aerith nodded. "So if I'm not mistaken, the darkness within you created a whole different persona. This armor makes it worse." She lowered her head, thoughts racing until they formed a coherent plan. Better a good one now than a perfect one five days from now, when they'd very well lose her again. "There is one thing you're mistaking about the darkness. You can control it, but you can't let it rule you or consume you. And in order to help you do that, I'm going to... try something."

Jecht has posed:
'You don't understand'
'you don't understand'
'you don't understand'

Jecht stands up. He nearly knocks over his tea, his table, and his chair in the sheer suddeness of his motion. The words echo in his head as his chair tips all the way over; it clatters to the ground, the noise echoing through the inn and probably disturbing some of the patrons upstairs. Jecht's hands are clenched so tight that Tifa and Aerith can see blood if they look hard enough; his whole upper body is literally shaking with rage. Tifa's probably never seen him so angry in the weeks since he showed up in Seventh Heaven and started boarding there; he's a rowdy guy, a little rambunctious, might've calmed down a few fights a little more enthusiastically than most bouncers would've, but...never has he ever looked like he would punch a patron in the face before for nothing but words. Something is very, very wrong in this situation.

He moves over to Neviril's table, and he slams his palm down upon it, hard. He was a good guy...but even he had his limits. Even he had a limited amount of patience, and she just crossed the line hard, tap-dancing on his last nerve like nobody's business. "Leave." His voice, like his hands, is shaking with barely-contained rage; something in his eyes, some lingering anger, some lurking trauma, something difficult to pin down but all too easy to see right at this moment...it says he's not joking. Something about those eyes confirms the very next words he says. "Or I will throw you through those doors personally." He's tense - unbelievably, ungodly tense.

Jecht's hands close around the emergency kit; he closes it up, locking it, and sets it back on the bar to make sure it doesn't get destroyed. His knuckles are so tight they're white; it's exactly like when Tifa told him about the night her hometown was destroyed, about that guy named Sephiroth, but somehow worse, somehow more personal - not just a well-meaning guy seeking vengeance for people who needed help and couldn't help themselves, seeking to help where he was needed, but some lingering darkness in his own past, something he himself felt tremendously strongly about. His fist slams on the table; it shakes, a good portion of the bar shaking with it. "LEAVE!" Jecht roars.

His voice levels a moment later; it's still ferociously shakey, but it's no longer screaming. "Because you're either lying, or you're weak. If you give up without a fight like that, it doesn't matter. You're either looking for someone else to pull you up out of the pit - and I promise you, I /promise/ you, you will find no salvation for yourself like that, relying on other people to help you out of your own stupid mess - or you're lying, and it's all a trap. But either way."

Jecht points at the door. "Leave. Or I will throw you out."

Tifa Lockhart has posed:
Tifa Lockhart blinks at the outburst. Okay, that means alot more than Jecht let her know about. Something deep. She moves over to him, and puts a hand on his shoulder, comfotingly. She can't do or say much about this. She looks at Neviril. Can't say she doesn't understand, and she's at a loss as to what to do to help either way. She wants to help everyone, but sometimes that's just not possible either.

Neviril has posed:
The woman blinks, blinks more, and twitches her eye, her tentacle wiggling fiercly. She takes a deep breath and grits her teeth, "YOU KNOW NOTHING! WHat do you know of being controlled, of being corrupted, of being mutated by the darkness. I am not weak, but untill you have walked the path of the dark, how would you know. The darkness takes away your will, forces you to do its bidding no matter if you wish to or not!" she scrambles off the table, leaning on it, keeping her eyes on him the whole time, "It's people like you that are the reason, things go this way. I had everything! Then I LOST everything! All I wanted was to fight for my country, to lead them to glory, to show how mighty it was. Instead... instead, it was corrupted, destroyed, and nothing is it was it was!" balling her one fist, "And who are you anyways, some bar patron, thinking you can tell someone what to do. So, should I have just died? Should I have just suffered in misery, because you feel someone is just faking their injuries and suffering? I was a Noble of Baron, and now.. I am a servant of the darkness. You cannot SIMPLE leave that! Once you are consumed, you are always a part of it. It's not like I can just will it away." she steps away, wobbling and stands there, "If that's what you wish, to throw a wounded, injured woman, then do it! I will not fight you, I will not be her. If you wish so much hatred, then let it be on your hands." she breaths, and closes her eyes, awaiting the smack of a wall, or a floor or something. Trying no to let the consumption retake her, not wanting to be lost again.

Rinoa Heartilly has posed:
Rinoa has beenin the back making HOT CHOCOLATE all this time, but even in the b ack she hears Jecht yelling....Eeep! What's going on out there? Angelo starts barking, seeming anxious by Jecht's outburst..And those tentacles of Nevi's...Ick..what the..?

"Heey, what's going on out here? This is supposed to be a welcome place for everyone, so please dont fight! Nevi, here's your hot chocolate.." She eyes the tentacle, and backs off. "Eww, what IS that?"

Aerith has posed:
Aerith sighed. "Okay... two things." She glared at Jecht. "I can tell when someone is lying. And since she's not, I'll advise you not to do that again." She turned toward Nevi and placed a hand on her forehead again. "Second... I'm glad you're not going that route." A quick glance toward Rinoa and a shake of her head was hopefully enough to keep her from asking too much before she turned toward Nev again. "So then... here's what I'm going to do. We're going to have a chat with this other side of you. And yes, I mean we. As for whether you go back to Baron or not, that's your business. However, I advise against it. They'll kill you on sight, noble or not." She ran her fingers through Nevi's hair, almost to soothe her. "Don't worry... I'm not going to let him interrupt this."

Jecht has posed:
Jecht isn't taking this crap. Tifa setting her hand on his shoulder is nice, and he takes in a deep breath as she does so, but then Neviril is on him again, with her whining, her mewling, her complaining and poor-mes, her sobbing and her half-heard pity-parties. He had almost calmed down. He had ALMOST calmed down, because he really didn't want to make trouble for Tifa. She'd been really nice to him; she was a sweet girl, she let him stay in her bar and she didn't mind him cleaning up when she was out, didn't mind him sleeping in the bar after she'd locked up, didn't mind him hanging around like the old ghost that he was. And he was an old ghost; he was long for this world, his time had passed. It was the time of younger people now; he'd given his life to save a lot of people, and in response, had been forced to kill untold millions.

Ten years. Ten years, he'd been rewarded for his heroic sacrifice. Ten years he'd been living in Hell, and he had struggled and bit and fought every step of the way. Ten years, he had been the nightmare of millions, the object of their greatest fear. Ten years.

Ten years, Yu Yevon's voice echoing in the back of his head, demanding, forcing, controlling. The only respite the Hymn of the Fayth, the song he loved so much; the only thing left in his heart the love for his son that held out against every torture in the world. And instead of rest - instead of oblivion - he had been thrust out into the world again, to live his every moment in fear that he would be yanked back into that everlasting hel, that he would wake again to find not hands but flippers, flippers and jaws soaked in the blood of untold millions.

What did he know about mind control?

Everything there was to know.

Jecht advances. He ignores Aerith's scolding, completely. He ignores Tifa's kind hand. He ignores Rinoa's careful warning that this isn't a place to fight. None of that meant anything, not through the white-hot rage of a presumptuous little girl (Jecht barely knew how to spell presumptuous) talking about how important she was, about how sad and trapped and pathetic she was, about how she could never break free from the darkness. His hand curls into a fist.

Then he swings it, hard, directly for Nevi or Neviril or whatever her name is's face, without any sort of mercy on his face. Jecht has a mean-ass right hook, too; he'd gotten into his share of fights over the years, and now that he was dead/an Aeon/whatever, he wasn't exactly worried about overexerting.

"Don't sit there and try to act like this is your private pity party," Jecht spits, wiping his lips with the back of his hand; he shakes his hand off, then points it at the door. "Leave."

"You're not looking for redemption. You're not looking for forgiveness. You're looking for an easy out, a way to feel better about the crap you've done. You'd kill yourself right now if she asked; look at you. You just told me to throw you out like some kind of martyr. You're not a martyr. You got me? You might be a victim - you might just be too <GOOSEHONK> stupid to know better - but that doesn't matter. It's not why you're in the circumstances you're in - it's how you fight it."

"And you're not trying to fight it." He spits again. He'll wipe it up later. "You're looking for the cheap escape, cheap forgiveness. You're looking for your victims to absolve you of your sin, but trust me, little girl, I know sin. And it ain't that easy."

Jecht moves back over to the bar, sticking his hand into the sink again and trying not to focus on the shaking waves, and the feeling in the pit of his stomach, and all the terrible thoughts he was thinking right now. He tried to center himself, back into the Hymn of the Fayth, into the thoughts of his little baby boy all grown up into a fine young man. "Leave. Come back when you're ready to fight for your absolution. Right now, you're just lying. If not to this girl," he gestures at Aerith with his free hand, "Then to yourself. So get outta here, figure out how to fight, and then come back and ask her for forgiveness like somebody with a <goosehonk> spine."

Then he heads back to his table, picks up his chair, grabs his tea, and drains it in one shot.

Neviril has posed:
She looks down at Aerith, as she stands there talking to her, unsure how to respond, she wants to bring the otherside out, to talk to her, not such a good idea in her mind, "I.. I don't think you wanna do that. I may not come back if you bring her out. She may take control, she may do things.. I wish you nor more hatred, or violence.." she goes to say more, but Jecht attacks.
Nev takes the right hook hard in the face, well the armor should have kept her somewhat standing on the great and in one piece, but she was far to weak for that and goes flying. she smacks the wall with a thud and slumps down, blood spraying from her nose and mouth. She sits there, coughing, coughing up blood and who knows what else. She looks back up at him slowly, "You. you're right. I am seeking forgiveness. Forgivness for the hundreds, thousands I have slaughtered over the years. For those that did nothing, for those I simply did not like. I am not a saint, and never will be a saint." she reaches up and feels the blodo coming down, "But, I can atleast TRY to find forgiveness.. I hurt them, even being an enemy soldier, I wanted nothing but to crush them. That is not.. not how anyone with any shred of honor acts against their enemies."

She slowly tries to stand up, "And if I have to die, to show penance, then I will! I may have done bad, but I still confess my sims, I can still try to fix things.. I may not have much time left, I maybe dead, I may no longer exist tomorow. But if giving her my apologies.. my sorry for the hatred I had. Then, that is all that matter." she coughs more, "And if I am unworthy of you, of any deities, then so be it, I will die and spend eternity in nothing." She really has no ability to fight at the might.

Aerith has posed:
And Aerith lets the punch happen.

But she quickly moves her hands to the fallen knight's forehead again. "I'll let that one slide." She sighed. "What I'm about to do isn't really going to solve anything. You'll have to deal with this darkness yourself and resolve it. And if she does try to do something... well it'll be a very, very unsound idea."

Others have tried. Three times they've failed.

"He has a point... there's no one that can help you but you. But the least I can do... is try to loosen the chains a bit. Now lay back down."

Jecht has posed:
Jecht doesn't reply to Neviril. He just goes to get himself some more tea. It was times like this that he really wished he still drank like a real person, but every time he tried, Braska's face shown in his mind with all kinds of disappointment.

Shove it. He'd just sit down, shut up, and drink his <goosehonk> tea.

Neviril has posed:
Neviril looks up at Aerith and sighs softly as her hand rests on her forehead, "Then.. I win, or I die. If I die, then.. then I have my easy way out, and no one need not worry anymore about the horrors I've inflicted or will inflict.. if I win.. if I win, I don't know what I'll do. But, I will try, I will fight for something.. For myself, and for those that I have betrayed, that did nothing to deserve my ire." she sighs.. Just so tired, and wanting.. something to happen.

Jecht has posed:
"If you already want to die, you're not gonna get anywhere at all." Jecht snorts. Okay, so he wasn't just gonna drink his <goosehonk> tea. "Either tell yourself you wanna live, or stop telling us how great it'll be when you're dead."

Aerith has posed:
Aerith shrugged. "He has a point. The will to live is the most useful trait you have." She smiled. "Hang onto it. Focus on it and use it...." A grimace passed over her features. "Because I'm not fighting for you."

Wait, what?

She closed her eyes and put a hand on her forehead again. "Relax. The only way this'll hurt is if you resist."

For Nev, voices would start to sound fuzzy, The lights and everything, would grow dim just a bit, and she'd fall into... not unconsciousness, but a trance of sorts, eyes closed. In the next fifteen seconds, she'd find herself in her own... no, not her mind. Somewhere else. Aerith didn't deal with thoughts, that wasn't her domain. Instead, she sent Nevi to a place that was always there.

Neviril has posed:
Neviril falls asleep.. well as close to it as it seems without being asleep. Her body twitches here and there at the strangness she's being pushed into. The happy place in her mind... ok well maybe not happy, but it was somewhere nice, and there was Neviril, like a mirror but alive on her own. The time passage shall be interesting to see what happens, who wins, who losses, how this well effect everything and anything.. And if she doesn't wake up pissed and hurt Jecht, but who knows, only time will tell.

Her body pretty muchlifess, mind where it's at, and she does nothing but exist in this state Aerith put her in.

Aerith has posed:
Aerith sighed and moved her hands away. "Yeah... I'm not giving miss Dark Knight a chance to take over my body. They're going to have a little... chat. And if she's strong enough to fight herself, she can fight anything else." Aerith stepped away and took a seat atop one of the nearby tables. Yes, on top of it. "She's right about the darkness... the further in you go, the further away you get from the light, and sooner or later you get so far in that all you can see are the ugly parts." She smiled. "Darkness however is a tool. And if you don't let it expose those ugly parts, if you can steep yourself in it without being affected... then what is it but another source of energy?"

Neviril has posed:
Well in her mind, the confrontation is about to commence. It's not exactly an easy scene, what with a weak average noble woman, up against her evil fully trained Dark Knight self, yeah that outa be interesting, but hey all battles are odd aren't they.

Neviril," So, you wish to get rid of me? You wish to FIGHT ME? You know you cannot do that, you and I are one, without me you are nothing. You are not a fighter, you are helpless and weak, nothing!" She Smirks, and acts as though her otherself was some pathetic elf.

Nevi, "I will fight you, and I will win! Because I have too, because I want too. No more, no more darkness, no more hate, no more tentacle! I will stop you, and you will be under my control, and we will atone for our sins."

More words fly, some good, some bad, some ugly.. But in the end they are words, and the battle is preparing, both sides sizing up to determine the best course of action, how to attack, where to attack, and how to make the most effective strike against the other to quickly end this and regain control over what they both claim as their own.

Aerith has posed:
And in the real world, Aerith prepares to head for the bar. "Now that she's out..." She turned toward Jecht. "Maybe I should catch you up on things." Her expression turned dispassionate. "I have a few... suspicions about Baron's current position. I'm not exactly sure what's going on with them, but I've just been given reason to believe things are very, very wrong. She just made it sound like there's no one in control, or the one in command has lost it." She folded her arms in front of her. "I'm inclined to believe her. They were recently responsible for destroying an entire world... or rather, almost destroying it. A plan's underway to get it back. Since you seem like a more than honorable person, and yet practical at the same time, I'd ask you to help out."

Jecht has posed:
Jecht rubs his arm at that. He'd heard about most of this stuff, yeah; you didn't go around and do odd jobs and not hear about rumors like mad kings and crazy countries and stuff. He looks sort of uncomfortable at her request. "I can't," Jecht replies after a moment, picking up his tea and taking a sip. Oh, god, that was awful. He'd have to ask Tifa how to make this stuff later. Still, he'd just have to bear it; wasting food was a sin. So Jecht tips his head back, with a sour face, and swallows the tea.

He'd had weirder stuff to drink.

"I'd like to...I just...I can't." He sets the teacup down and pours himself a bottle of good old shoopuff milk instead. "It's..."

How do you explain to someone that you're worried your very touch is going to obliterate something like that, or that you touching a fragment of a world might wake up the evil space whale you were the core of "...complicated. Sorry."

Aerith has posed:
Aerith shrugged. "Complicated is what we do." She chuckled. "I know someone just like Nevi there. He was from Baron too, and a Dark Knight as well. Oddly enough, all he needed was someone that understood him in order to make him really think about what was really going on with his own people." She looked back at Neviril. "She needed the same thing. I didn't expect to do it like this, but this'll be the way she gets it done. All I know is that she can't go back to Baron. If she does, all this will be for nothing, because she'll be dead."

Jecht has posed:
"But she'll be free. Besides, we already had this conversation. Don't need to rehash it." He waves his hand in front of his face dismissively. "Listen, little miss. I'm not much of a talkative guy. Don't much care to go into my own past. It ain't that important, okay?"

Jecht sits down, setting his glass of milk on the ground. "'sides. I already gave you my side to it. If you and she're gonna make mistakes, make mistakes. Can't live if you just stay in stasis all the time, never moving forward."

Aerith has posed:
Aerith sighed. "Listen... I can't send her back to the very demons that made her. They'd destroy her, decimate her, twist her into something that neither you nor I will be able to imagine." She glanced at him. "We already had this talk, sure. It bears repeating... if throwing her back toward the slave-drivers is setting her free, I don't want to consider it."

Jecht has posed:
Jecht shrugs. It was times like this that made him feel old, but it really wasn't any of his business at this point. He'd said his part. He didn't believe she was really controlled at all, at least unwillingly; he didn't believe the girl regretted it. People didn't just...regret. The scars showed deeper than that if you were forced to kill 'thousands'. The scars were a lot deeper than that. But he was also just too damn nice for his own good.

"If you say so." He picks up his milk and takes a sip; kicking back at his table again to get comfortable. "It's your decision."

Aerith has posed:
Aerith glanced toward Nevi again. "Well then, I can't leave her here, can I?" She chuckled. "Bad for business." And so one piece after another, she began to remove the rest of that armor from the Dark Knight... and after all was said and done, she headed upstairs with her. No need to have her wake up again on an uncomfortable surface. "I advise you head up to a room too, beds are comfier than tables. Good night, Jecht!"

Jecht has posed:
"Good night, little missy." Jecht holds up his hand and waves her off, swishing the milk about in his cup and trying very hard not to stare at it. Then he raises it to his lips and takes a deep sip.