The Darkness And The Dawn

The Darkness And The Dawn
Date of Scene:	25 November 2012
Location:	Between Baron and Rabanastre
Synopsis:	Jasmine hires Angantyr to protect her for forty-eight hours, so she can get some shut-eye. The Heartless attack, as expected, but the philosophical discussions that begin are less expected...
Cast of Characters:	Angantyr Vespar, Jasmine

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OOC Note: This took place immediately after A Confluence of Fate; omitted is a +radio conversation between Jasmine and Angantyr, in which they introduced each other, hit it off, and she hired him to guard her for forty-eight hours, while she tried to get some badly needed rest.

Jasmine has posed:

After the battle, the dynamic, fierce Jasmine seems to gradually collapse into herself. The circles under her eyes, the tremors in her hands -- they're a lot more obvious when she's not busy channeling one of the great forces of the universe.

Although, if Angantyr has any sense of the cosmological balance, he quickly becomes aware that his forty-eight hour charge is, in fact, still /very/ busy managing her burden. A constant and nontrivial amount of concentration is always going towards keeping the Light from pouring forth to cover the land, heal the wounds of the worlds, set the universe into balance... it surges constantly. It wants to be /used/, but using it would draw down the Heartless with exponentially greater speed. It may be a holy power, but it isn't a tame one. And she doesn't stop having to deal with it just because it isn't visible. The reverse is far more true.

She's not hesitant, precisely, in dealing with the sellers of carriages, but she's definitely very willing to yield to Angantyr's experience. Haggling is not her strong point, and the occasional innocent stare she gives utterly commonplace things bespeaks her sheltered upbringing, and the fact that despite her fairly successful fugitive status -- she's gradually mastering the art of constant vigilance without LOOKING like she's constantly vigilant, her eyes flicking about more subtly than they once did, her reaction to unexpected sounds a little less jumpy -- she hasn't really had the time to stop and smell the roses and adjust to normal life. Whatever 'normal' means in this mish-mash of a maligned multiverse.

She pays Angantyr up front, with coins from some sort of inner pocket inside her voluminous brown burlap robes, and with a healthy expense account for meals, since being unconscious for as long as possible seems to be her goal. "Please wake me up if you run out," she encourages him, though in general she's pretty reticent now; it's obviously exhaustion. They only fight two packs of Heartless before hitting the road, and Jasmine lets her temp do the heavy lifting; there's no sign of the Light, that's for sure. At one point, she steps in, not because he needs any help, but because she really wants to lay down as soon as possible, flipping a Heartless over her shoulder in a smooth, vaguely judoesque throw, then ending it with an elbow drop to the throat.

No one can accuse her of not having the instincts for self-defense, but she seems oddly sad as it fades away. KILLER instincts, she lacks.

As she clambers into the carriage to curl up, catlike, on its floor, she studies Sir Knight, as she unfailingly calls him, for a long moment. "Thank you," she murmurs through a yawn, "For not selling me out. You know enough to be able to, but you won't; I can tell."

Her belief in him is almost a tangible thing, made moreso by her smile, undiminished in its brilliance despite her weariness. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

Angantyr is, of course, good at getting a fair deal with the caravans. A bit of looking intimidating and actually BEING intimidating when necissary, and of course, playing bad cop to her good cop gets a good deal out of a poor soul. Of course, Jasmine no doubt pays him just a bit more because she's not as callous as he is. He observes her power as they walk...he understands it because he sits in it's wake...the shadow to the light so to speak. It is very interesting to him, he mentally catalogs it, because it might be worth something to someone...or maybe it will be useful to him in the future.

He understands the power of control she exhudes, because he too uses a strong amount of will to keep the darkness from taking over. It is natural, but darkness is still corruptive and powerful. It is not so much EVIL, as any cosmic force can be...but it is what it is. Heartless come and heartless go, Angantyr is not very pressed by them, he's a fighter...these things have been everywhere, and he kinda laments about the fact that they used to be on his side...well, vaguely. He usually gets to not worry about them, unless a particualry powerful one poses a big enough threat that he can get money for killing it. For now, the minions are more annoying than dangerous...he takes his time in disbursing them, because this isn't a race...it's a marathon.

However, her sudden interfearance in the last fight causes him pause...it was time to stop, and she needed to rest. The kinda rest you can only get by resting. So, they set down and he makes a fire.

For a moment, a tinge of guilt finds his way into his mind...would he? He is sure Garland knows about his doings, what if he called on him to do that? Garland was right, he was soft, he considers. He didn't have that edge that he kept fooling himself into having. He could do many horrible things, but there was a point...a no return point that he just can't pass.

"Hopefully, it won't come to that. Sleep. You'll still be here in the morning." he says, unafraid of what the night will bring. The mace lays upright near him, as his helmet rests on his lap.

Angantyr has been going for a while, to find Avira, now to watch over the Princess. White magic has kept him fit, but he knows this isn't going to last forever. It's a challenge...one he will not back down from either...there is a twinge of excitement in this. The chaotic nature of him showing through. He waits, when the time is right, he holds a hand up, and a dark barrier appears over Jasmine. Both muffling sound, and keeping her shielded. It was his darkness, so the heartless could only pass through if they beat him...

And if they beat him, well...that was a moot point.

Jasmine has posed:

Jasmine jerks in place when he starts to draw the dark barrier over her. "Please don't," she whispers, sleep already making her voice husky. "I... react strongly. It isn't philosophical, it's physical. Mystical. Not by choice." In fact, she constantly has more or less a Heads-Up Display of sources of Darkness; it's ironic, but taking the risk of growing accustomed to the Dark Knight's is a comforting mask that may help her rest more easily. Already, on the very, very edge of her considerable perceptions, she can sense the first wave coming in. They feel like they're about an hour away. She says so, the syllables barely escaping her before sleep finally, fully takes her.

At least she seems to trust him to guard her without the use of such an aid -- something of a major compliment, really. Alternatively, naivete that's about to lead to her death, or worse.

Her fall into darkness is too deep and total to be blissful, but she does gradually relax, going totally limp, and in so doing reveals exactly how much tension had been in her body before, built up over who knows how many trials and fears. She sleeps like a child, curled up into a tiny ball of fabric and hair. She's terribly vulnerable. No wonder she hired some muscle.

An hour later, right on schedule, the first Heartless arrive.

They're not locals. Crowned with turbans and armed with scimitars, they rush in with unexpected skill and coordination. Teamwork, even. These are survivors, hunters. They were summoned not by the princess' mere presence -- that'll come later -- but driven by someone with a terrible will.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

Well...that is a problem. Angantyr uses the time he has to rest. Eating, not sleeping, but resting. He focuses his power, reaching out to look into the dark around him. Oh yes, here they come, he thinks...these aren't normal heartless. He seems the mark on them, they are someone's minions...not the wild ones. He sort of wishes he had the hinesight to set up traps, but it is likely to turn on him as it is for them. So he waits...the fire still roaring as he waits.

Then they come.

Angangty isn't a defensive fighter, he fights through sheer brutality...the good offense is a good defense. He runs, right at the first group, tearing into them almost like an animal. His mace moves, one handedly, as it's talon like spikes aim to tear through armor and whatever counts as flesh of the heartless. He spins, continuing his brutal strikes aiming to keep the Heartless back...making it dangerous for them to advanced, and singling out any that try and sneak by.

A old memory floods back to him...the Arcadians, flooding the city...his home, tearing it all down. For that moment, he dismisses it...no time for distractions. A life depended on him, though he was sure she wouldn't die...no he was sure a much worse fate awaited should he fail. The mace swings again, this time, both hands gripping the thing, aiming to draw it down on a single, very unlucky heartless.

Jasmine has posed:

The Heartless are dispatched with the efficiency that comes from long practice. There are a few tight places, especially around the fourth wave, which came only ten minutes after the third; that was when they were still Emblem Heartless.

Man, are there a lot of Emblem Heartless after Jasmine. They aren't all these desert-dwellers, either, which come in a variety of shapes and sizes; there are the dark swordsmen, but also these huge, vaguely obese ones in vests, and the centipede-like pots with spidery, shadowy legs that wriggle and claw and tear.

But eventually other varieties appear, an indirect documentation of the girl's journey, and the fortitude of whoever's out to get her, in creating all these new ones along the way. Massive, shadowy huns from the Land of Dragons. Misshapen jesters from New Orleans. Terrible plant monsters from Golmore Jungle. And on, and on, and on.

Jasmine continues to sleep in a virtual coma for several hours, but eventually it becomes restless and troubled. She thrashes about in the throes of a nightmare several times, but never quite wakes up. Other times, she weeps almost silently. All of her dreams are dark, it seems.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

Angantyr's attack is brutal...

He barely gives thought to defense, only defending when he is sure that attack is not something he wants to test...or when he wants to get into a better position to KILL it. Which happens more often than you would thing...heartless mostly are not on the level of technical he is. Garland is a brutal master, and if not for his ability to adapt and perform...he'd be dead long ago. Darkness speaks to darkness, though...and he strikes them down as they come, disbursing them back to where they came.

Each line of heartless fall...but Angantyr starts to slow down. He's already passed his limit, but he pushes forward. SOMETHING forces him to...maybe it was that belief that someone believed in him to not be awful. To not think about himself over someone else...bah...he really is soft. "A soft hearted idiot." he says, barking out a laugh as he feels a blade through his shoulder, looking at the Shadowy Hun.

Grabbing it, and repeatedly beating his head into it until it disburses, he grunts...taking a few moments to drink a potion...

Then Jestures. "Goddamn it, I am NOT down with the clown." before he wades into them too.

Eventually, like a boulder weathering the tide of the river...he continues to break as the darkness shatters around him. Finally, the last plant monster is crushed under the mace, as he falls to a knee. Blood drips from the many wounds...and he breaths heavily, exhaustion pooring over him in waves. His eyes narrow...

"BRING IT ON!" he shouts, defiantly even as he rests. "I'M NOT DEAD YET!" finally, laughing...just laughing. "God I am such a moron." he finally mutters.

Jasmine has posed:

Angantyr's shout awakens Jasmine. She sits up immediately, instantly alert -- another relatively recently acquired skill, from the last few months. It's strange how this is what brought her out of it, since it's not like the many battles were completely silent, but there it is. After a few moments of ascertaining the situation, she relaxes... somewhat. Already, most of the dubious peace that sleep brought her is departing, though perhaps it could be called back.

She stretches several seconds more luxuriously than she really ought to, given what she feels on the move, closing her eyes again, just for a moment. "We're going to get them out of the ground very soon," she murmurs through half-veiled lids that only badly conceal the concern in her eyes, which she is too polite to express directly. But she's definitely worried about him, and just as obviously, from the quick way she tosses back her hair, unhappy that he's being harmed in her service, even though he was paid for it, and knew what he was getting into. It doesn't matter to her. She /hates/ it when other people get hurt because of her, for any reason, any at all. "Do you want to heal on the move, or do you want to be healed and stay, and I go back to sleep?" The healing, apparently, is not optional. It's not like they don't know where she is; she doesn't fear to draw on the Light for that purpose.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

"If you are resting, then we stay." Angantyr says without skipping a beat. "So heal me and quickly get back to sleep. I am not going to turn down healing when I am in this state. I'm a stupid, not sucidal." he says, and also apparently going to stay alive. He says, forcing himself to his feet to make it towards the camp. "Also, sorry for waking you." he comments, "But the night isn't over and you're going to need to sleep if this is typical for you." he says.

"Reminds me of my first week of training." he says, and turns to sit down to rest, and accept her healing.

"Also, if they are going to come from the ground...I'd prefer you to rest in the caravan. I can't do anything if they just burst right through and drag you down. I'm good, but I haven't mastered that power yet."

Because Burrow is OP.

He takes a canteen of something, and drinks it. Probably to take the edge off of the fight...but maybe it is water (ha ha no).

Jasmine has posed:

Jasmine doesn't stir for a long moment. Despite being awake, she's still dreadfully tired, and fighting off the chains of slumber is the exact opposite of what her mind wants to do. Opening her heart to the light without letting it spill forth to a suicidal degree is almost more than she can bear. Almost.

Eventually, marked only by the finest silvery-white shimmer and an exhausted, catlike grin, Angantyr's wounds close themselves without so much as a scar. The feather-light touch of holy power delicately caresses his spirit, restoring it to full strength as though he'd slept in a downy, cloudlike bed for a week. It is warm as an embrace of sunlight, sweet as an innocent kiss, gentle as a songbird's wing.

It's an open question why she doesn't simply do that for herself. Maybe she can't.

Afterwards, it takes his help to get into the caravan, and she's asleep almost before she hits its floor, but not before she thanks him softly for his assistance.

Seconds later, the first Heartless rise out of the ground, summoned not actively by her hunter but passively by her mere existence. They hunger for her Heart, and they would have it, if not for the Dark Knight's intervention.

For the next few hours, it's a mix of natural and Emblem Heartless. They come in squads, and in packs, and finally, on the far horizon, the main force of the army comes into view. Its presence mutes the dawnlit sky, as though filtering it through shadow. And it is then that Jasmine pokes her head out of the carriage.

She looks amazing, aglow with enthusiasm, optimism, the vivacious energy of the freshly awakened. There may have been more nightmares, but they don't seem to matter in the larger picture of the princess finally, finally getting a night of true rest.

"Good morning," she greets brightly. Her face falls a little as she sees the inevitable marks of these last few hours of battle, but they're banished effortlessly, now that she's energetic again. "You've done a marvelous job. I think it's time to go, however."

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

Jasmine's spell restores the Dark Knight to fighting ability, but it is meerly delaying the inevitable. Darkness doesn't shy away from the light she brings, perhaps it is because it is bound to Angantyr, perhaps it is like she says. Maybe it is both, or none at all. However, renewed he stands again, fighting fit and nods to her. She thanks him...but he turns only to ready himself again. More would come...more would be banished again. The mace swings in his hand as the hours move...

Heartless disburs, heartless are smashed, and heartless come. However, near the dawn...

He breaths...my god, not even he can hold THAT off. However, most would run...he stands tall. Instead, he considers his options...the Caravan might be the option here, but will the chocobos be able to hold up? He wonders...

Then Jasmine comes out, a shining beacon of his troubles, and he can't help but smirk at the notion. However, he turns towards her and shakes his head. "I think you have a strong following among the darkness. I think you're something of a underground favorite." he continues, before sheathing the weapon. "The great thing about armies...even heartless ones, is that they move slowly. I think this is directed though...reguardless, lets go. We can easily out pace them." he says, helping her into the Caravan and takes the reigns of the Chocobos. Even after her healing, he is still ready to get a break soon...but he can still go quite the distance. Being tenacious is a virtue as the dark is concerned.

"I hope you got your beauty rest, because it might get bumpy to out pace them. Assuming we're not already surrounded."

Jasmine has posed:

Jasmine seems patiently wry, as Angantyr 'educates' her about the threat she continuously faces, usually alone. "This isn't my first..." she grasps for the right word, then remembers what she ran across, in one of the many worlds she's fled through, "...rodeo, I believe is the term. And no, we aren't surrounded."

She moves up to the wide driver's seat; there's more than enough room for two. One hand grasps the rail, lest she get bounced off by the rapid motion of the chocobos. The other produces, of all things, a hairbrush. Running it through her massive mane is a stunningly mundane thing to do during a deadly chase, but it seems to give her such a simple, quiet pleasure. It's a ritual that takes her back to happier times, essentially the only thing she has left from her old life.

While they go along, she occasionally directs him, down unexpected roads and perilously narrow pathways. Eventually it becomes obvious why, as they pass through a portal -- NOT one on the common maps, such as they're recorded -- from plains into lightly forested hills. "We can slow, a little," she calls over the wind of their velocity. "It will take them some time to realize where we've gone. Why don't I spell you on the reins for a while? Even knights need breaks, now and then."

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

Angantyr gives her a grin at the phrasing, not that he discounted her experience, but more at grim humor that he was trying to muster in a bad situation. The handling of the Chocobos is done by someone of ease. Agraba had horses, here Chocobos are the thing used...and it's obvious that he's not only familar with the beasts, but handles them quite well. Warriors and nobility are often the ones that do that, often both. He spurns them on through her directions, concerned after a few turns...these are often dangerous even for someone skilled perfectly in theset hings...and he's good, but not a master. Finally, through luck, they come into the potral, and finally are able to slow down. He brings the birds to a slower pace...good because he didn't want them dying on him. He doesn't question her hair.

No, we all take small comforts, even in the worst of times. He's paid to do this, not question her life choices. Finally, though, she offers to take the reigns, and he doesn't argue. Handing them over so he can finally recline back...his mace finally settles behind him, and his helmet goes off. His hair is short, dark like his other features, but short and a bit unkept. He rubs his hand over his face...yeah, going to need to shave eventually, he considers. He hates having a beard.

"A gracious employer you are. Most would treat me like the horses." he says, with a grin.

Jasmine has posed:

Jasmine returns his grins both times with her own warm, merry expression; despite their considerable peril, nothing seems able to spoil her good mood, and her lips are well-suited to joy. She often stretches, careful to not fall out of the seat in the doing, enjoying the feeling of being truly awake on so many levels. There is also the matter of once again traveling in the company of another; she's missed the companionship, even if in this case it is guaranteed by money.

"'Most' are wrong to do so," she counters lightly, "Unless they treat their horses rather better than I take your meaning for." Indeed, she manages the chocobos with a soft touch, often letting them take their rest as well. This is more than compassion for the animals, though they actively respond to her kind, fond feelings, their rapport natural and easy; pushed too hard, they'll founder, and that would be a disaster.

She takes her eyes off the road long enough to regard helmetless Angantyr for what is perhaps the first time. She studies him thoughtfully, as though recording the contours of his face, the hues captured by his hair, ingrained on her heart for all time. "May I ask you a personal question?"

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

She's kinder, MUCH kinder than he is to them. "Heh, no, they don't. I've been to a few lands where horses are the standard, instead of Chocobos. Not many treat them any better than beats of burden. I digress though...the life of a Merc isn't kind, but by I can't complain about the benifits. Get to make my own hours, get as much as I can earn...no glass ceiling." he says, picking that phrase up from Avira.

Jasmine's gaze doesn't make him uncomfortable, he's used to stares...he doesn't seem to notice, or is good at pretending not to. Instead he takes the oppertunity to rest, and despite the trouble they are in...he almost looks like he is enjoying this though. Perhaps it is how he lives, but it's hard to say.

He raises a eyebrow at the sudden question usually he'd bite back, but...something just seems to get him to stare at her for a moment. Then slowly, "Sure. Go ahead."

Jasmine has posed:

Jasmine's gaze is totally nonjudgemental, only curious and friendly. She inclines her head to one side as he explains the pros and cons of his career, and a quiet laugh is startled out of her at one comment. "The freedom to make your own choices. I can see the appeal of such a life."

Once she's secured permission to be nosy, is she /ever/, cutting straight to the heart of things with laser-like precision; she almost seems to look through him, though not past him, beyond the flesh to the spirit. Almost. Whatever she sees, it doesn't seem to trouble her. Rather the opposite, she's drawn to his complexity, his contradictions, his Darkness attracting her Light. And she'd like to understand them.

"What do you wish for, Sir Knight? In all the worlds, beautiful and dangerous, what is your heart's desire?" In Baron, they spoke briefly of the true meaning of darkness, and later of money, but something in her expression and intonation imply that she's sensed far greater depths to him than 'dark mercenary'.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

The small bit of light she sees...almost vanishes as she asks this question. It's there, but...something stirs in him...a healthy hatred...a strong desire for revenge.

"To explain that, I need to provide a little history." his tone is...colder, more distant. "My home, like yours, was destroyed. Not by heartless, but by the greed of man." he says, "A country who's only crime was existance near Arcadia. You know of them, doubt. The Judges of House Solidor have made their way around the worlds asking about the Darkness and the Heartless. Don't be fooled...monsters each and everyone. They are simply fighters for that house...not servants of law like their name suggests." he mutters.

"They came...killed my brother.." there was something about how the word killed was used to indicate that...PERHAPS it wasn't litteral, "Took our country from us without much of a war...destroyed everything important to me."

"So, what I want? My heart's desire? I want to destory Arcadia. I want to break them, make it so they feel what I felt, and completely remove their ability to do what they did to me or anyone else again. The countries brought forcefully into their fold may go back to how they were...I care not. I just want to see it gone."

Jasmine has posed:

Jasmine hasn't actually been exposed to Archades' Empire, of yet, but she listens solemnly to his words, breaking her gaze only to guide the carriage more carefully when they face an obstacle, now and again. Hers is the precious talent of being totally engaged by another's story, as though Angantyr has become her whole world; she nods in all the right places, and seems most saddened by parts of it.

Her sympathy is also empathy, as he's noted, and there's no mere pity within it, only sorrow, and predictably, a wish to ease his pain.

She doesn't seem taken aback by the darkness of his hatred, other than a concerned widening of the eyes. "I see," she says, afterwards, when he's drawn to a close. There's still no judgement, no disagreement, no attempt to talk him out of it. Only, in time, another question. "Who is 'them'? House Solidor itself? Arcadia's soldiers? Its noncombatants?"

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

"Solidor and the Soldiers." Angantyr says, "But...to involve the empire is to no doubt bring innocent into the cross fire. War is not a clean thing...it is messy, destructive...full of pain and death." he says, very calmly. "I know the path I take will lead to pain and suffering...there is no way around it." he continues, "To stop now will make everything up till now meaningless." he finally says.

There is pain, a lot of it. The pain his tempered him the darkness controlled by will. However, despite everything, there is the sliver of light. It shines, no matter how much he refects on everything...how self depreciated he is, SOMETHING in him wants to make something better. If he was unkind, he would not have came for Avira, if he was so dispicable, he wouldn't have agreed to be here right now. She would be no doubt in the Shadow Lord's hands.

He closes his eyes, relaxing a bit more. "It is not the brightest of dreams, and if you're disgusted with me, I won't blame you." he says, willingly able to walk the path of the demon, but often those who walk the path do so because they can't see the other ways.

Jasmine has posed:

Jasmine rests a tiny, gentle hand on Angantyr's shoulder, and squeezes it, for whatever small comfort that's worth. Only when they're both seated could she really do such a thing, her inability to reach high places often a barrier to such a gesture. She senses his pain -- how could she not? -- but the light within, as well.

"You don't disgust me," she expresses simply and kindly without an ounce of patronization, only earnest forthrightness. "I don't think your feelings are bad, nor that you are wrong to have them. They are a part of you, and your awareness of them does you credit. But the fact that you assumed that I might feel that way suggests that you yourself see some of the problems with your goal." Her voice trembles slightly with intensity, as she suggests, "Hold onto that concern, as you go on, Sir Knight, and though it may make your path more difficult, it will also make it, and you, the stronger."

The chocobos have come to a complete stop, but she lets them pluck at greens; this conversation, apparently, is more important to her than a few yards of lead on her endless pursuers. Her reflections are thoughtful and very audible in the sudden silence, formed by the void of creaking wheels and bouncing seats.

"To become what you hate would be Arcadia's ultimate victory. And only that would make everything meaningless... there is no path through darkness that cannot emerge into the sun, in time and with determination... and often, after much suffering. It isn't turning back. It's moving forward."

Suiting action to words, she flaps the reins, sending the featherbrains back into a trot.

"I suppose that a silly girl's mere words can't do much, on their own, to help you find peace, but perhaps someday they can bring you light in darker times." Today being a fairly SUNNY day, Heartless and all, by the standards of her life.

And her own inner Light burns fiercely, reassuringly, subconsciously bolstering that tiny sliver within him, enfolding it, nurturing it, so gently and slightly that it's hardly noticible. But sometimes tiny feelings have large consequences, much later.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

His eyes open as he notice the stop, but by then the conversation had gotten...serious. He doesn't reach for his weapon, or his helmet, because she was still talking and assumed she wanted to focus on him. He frows, shaking his head at the foolishness of the gesture. However...well, what can he do? Those words...hold onto the concern. The words themselves cause him to think deeply about what his own words.

'There is no path through darkness that can not emerge into the sun..' he hears, and doesn't debunk her...no there are a few, but those paths can only be walked willingly, he imagines. Light and Darkness...how different were they really, he wondered? The words, despite everything bring some comfort to his troubled heart. However, it was still turbulant, as hearts are want to be. Who will turn up on top is anyone's guess...but the words are not discard out of hand.

"Oh spare me the self depreciation. You are no more sill than I am monsterous." he says, "No, you're right...Garland is right. I guess I am a bit softhearted for this buisness. At the same time...I don't want to kill that part of myself. I really do fear what will happen when...or if I do. I try to take things one step at a time.."

Then he pauses... "I hardly know you, and here I am pouring myself out for you. I'm sorry, but there is something about you that seems.." He finds the right word... "Trustworthy. No different than how you saw me." he laughs. "Foolish sentiments for the both of us, for being strangers."

The light speaks to it's own...the darkness is no less diminished, but the light is also strengthened. It's odd, they want to coexist here.

Jasmine has posed:

"No one can ask more of you," Than taking things one step at a time. Jasmine's observation is serene, easily said, yet imbued with great truth and acceptance, beneath the tranquility.

She grins at his piqued request, relaxing a little, leaning her back against the carriage behind them without losing a drop of her effortless, comfortable-yet-majestic poise. That sort of self-deprication doesn't really come easily to her, and she did mean every word she said, with all of her being; on the other hand, the only person in the world she tends not to believe in so completely is herself. She's constantly questioning her own decisions, challenging her path. Wondering what her true purpose is, and what her role in the worlds will be.

She's the only one who wonders, that's for sure. She is what she is, embodying the Light as strongly as it passes through her, a creature of hope and faith, love and kindness, and occasionally very fierce defiance. Whether it was drawn to her Heart and transformed her with its passage, or her own inner strength is what drew it in the first place is an academic question, because she was born one of the Purest Lights, though she still does not fully understand her own significance. She's never been anything but herself.

"I think that trust is not foolishness, and compassion is not weakness." That's all she has to say on the topic; she doesn't laugh, this time, her quiet gravity in marked contrast to Angantyr's joking around. But she's warm, all the same, as she adds, "I'm very glad I met you, Sir Knight. Angantyr." On her lips, the name is transformed into something pure and strong, a three-syllable compliment of massive proportions. "Thank you again, for all you've done for me."

It will have been forty-eight hours fairly soon.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

Angantyr nods at her words, accepts the thanks at long last, and of course her money. He is still a mercinary, and he has a job to do. The ride is thankfully peaceful, at this point, and the two sit in silence for a bit after she thanks him. Then, he finally speaks, "You'd should go to Rabanastre, at least see Avira. The Shadows will think twice about attacking the place with such powerful people on the walls...Arcadia or not, I can not help but admit they have a disciplined army." he thinks. He's trying to act as if it's the safest option, but perhaps there is more to it all.

"Anyway, after that, I can take you to where you want to go, on the house. It may also give you a small breather and decide a more perminate arrangement." he comments, "Living on the run will not work forever."

"And no...you are right, these are virtues...I just wish I could subscribe to them more." he says, truthfully, without the barrier of what he keeps up to keep himself comfortable with what he is. "Besides...maybe that little idiot will come after you. I do so would like a second chance at smashing him."

Jasmine has posed:

Agony is revealed behind Jasmine's large, dark eyes, as Angantyr observes that her life on the run is not a permanent solution. "I know that your advice is sound," she explains, her voice soft and controlled in a way that her gaze is not. "But I..." So much for that; her voice breaks as well, cracking from sad memories. "So many have been lost, protecting me, usually knowingly but sometimes not. /Hundreds/ of people, entire battlefields. /Thousands/, by now. How can I stay /anywhere/ for any length of time? I'm a danger to everyone around me. A harbinger of doom."

She falls into what is obviously a repetition of justifications, thoughts that she's turned over and over in her mind but rarely vocalized. SeeD hasn't caught up to her yet, to demand these pre-readied explanations. "As long as I keep moving, every Heartless that pursues me isn't wrecking as much havoc as they would be otherwise. Sometimes I attract them deliberately, away from villages and other travelers." That gigantic pillar of light outside of Garden being the most dramatic occasion that started this round of fugitive life, but not the only one. "And I'm not /just/ running... I'm /briefly/ stopping in many places, making allies, meeting people, trying to connect them. I meant what I said to His Grace," Baigan, who apparently rates the noble title in her mind even though his snakearms covered her with terrible wounds, and his words with emotional ones, "We must all stand together, or we shall surely fall to the darkness, alone and disorganized. For that purpose, too, I travel."

Setting her chin -- stubbornly, regally, both -- she pushes back her dark canopy of hair and looks back up at Angantyr. "You're right that I should properly meet Lady Avira," she agrees reluctantly, apparently not beyond all reason. "If you would escort me to Rabanastre, I would be more in your debt than I already am." Money, in her mind, not adequate payment for the gift of the Dark Knight's blade, and also, perhaps, the beginnings of his friendship. She has NO IDEA that Rabanastre is Agrabah's new next door neighbor, and that in fact she's sending herself far more directly into danger than either of them have planned. Whoops.

Thinking about others is always easier for her than dwelling further on herself, and she's glad to let him change the subject. "If you wish it, it can become so." That was serious, and quite faithful; she does truly think he has it in him. Then, her grin becomes impish. "It just takes practice. Letting down your guard to connect to others can be scary!" There's truth in her quip. What follows afterwards is slightly teasing. "As for 'Sir' Kaydin... it's not the first time he's had a go at me. I've handled him alone before, but I would never deny you something that would bring you such pleasure."

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

Angantyr stares at her for a moment...

Pffftahahahahaha! He laughs, heartily at the story of her defeat of him... "My! I guess there is some darkness in you after all." he comments, "But I guess that is human nature." he grins at her. It is good to know that she too strugles with these things...and has darker thoughts. It adds a bit humanity to everything.

Which is important.

"Also, running...while you might think is best...does not solve anything. Even I agree that sometimes retreat is the best course of action...but sometimes you have to make a stand. You draw them out, sure...but more come in your wake." he comments.

"A plan of action needs to be thought about, and taken. Not just for your sake, but for all of the worlds. Whatever the heartless want from you...I feel, no." he says, calmly, "I know it's something they can not have."

"Reguardless. I can not command you, but I try and provide reasonable consul. The worlds are still a large place.."

Jasmine has posed:

It's hard to make out the blush on Jasmine's golden-brown cheeks, when Angantyr laughs at her, but roses bloom in them all the same. She ducks her head at his outburst, but her memory of the battle is very different. Alone and in great peril, it was the first time the Light within her erupted into conscious control, very much visible and somewhat terrifying. Before then, she hadn't had to struggle to keep it inside, but with that key turned, her heart unlocked, a new battle was joined that may never end.

But it's certainly also true that she has darker thoughts, as well. "I don't think that Darkness and Light are..." She thinks for a moment, trying to compose her words very carefully, and seems slightly unsatisfied with the results. "...it's not quite as simple as personality, or emotion. Because, oh yes... I do feel anger, sometimes. I'm all too human, Sir Knight."

For a single moment, her eyes fill with outright /rage/, the tumultuous fury over being driven from her homeland by a coup, being hunted like a fox. Fury at Jafar and his ilk, certainly, but also fury at her own powerlessness, her inability to protect the people and places she loves.

Unfortunately for her, the more she travels, the more she adds to that ledger.

After that moment, she lets the feeling fade. Sometimes anger fuels her, drives her onwards, but not right at the moment. What's left behind is the same as ever, unchanged by the darker emotion. Perhaps that's what makes the difference.

"Until I fully understand why they want me so, it's hard to plan, and my journey is an effective delaying tactic. But I have been working up offensive operations." He's noticed by now that she has a SeeD survival pack, which partially includes some books checked out of their library, to say nothing of the months of training they provided her more directly. "If I'm such magnificent bait, there's no reason I can't be used to lure Heartless into some equally magnificent ambushes of our own. The problem is that their numbers seem to be endless."

Her smile up at him -- already a shade more tired than it was before, as her many cares have come down upon her shoulders once again -- is full of respect. "I welcome your advice, of course. Please never hesitate to share it."

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

Angantyr pauses...

He thinks about this.. "Wait. You don't know why you are being persued...I mean, not from the wizzard's Heartless, but from the others?" he pauses...that was odd...it's true. Pure heartless were after her in great numbers...they were mostly masterless...only great masters of darkness could compel them...and even then, they were not a percise tool like the heartless that had marks.

He thinks about this...there is more. "Then the first move is an obvious one. We find out why. We find out WHY you are so important...knowledge is power, and it's time to have some of our own, eh?" he says. "I can talk to them, I have a few connections, and it might be costly." he says to her. "It is not without risk." he cmments.

Why was he getting involved? He doesn't know...but...something wanted to get involved.

"Speaking as someone well versed in darkness, and grew up in a house of paladins...light draws off different emotions than Darkness. Darkness, however, can be argued that it is MORE empowered by strong emotions...ususally hatred and pain...but anyone with a great desire can draw on it..."

"I digress. But I have offered my advice on what to do next."

Jasmine has posed:

Jasmine shakes her head slowly. "I was... unclear, forgive me. It's actually the opposite. I have /some/ sense of why the pure Heartless are after me, but 'the wizard' -- his name is Jafar -- is not acting alone, and not acting simply to control Agrabah. He works in concert with at least one other mighty sorceress, of whom I've only caught a glimpse, and not a name. She commands him to some degree, and he promised to render me unto her. She was... Dark. The only other person I've ever felt nearly so strongly about was with us in Baron yesterday." Garland. She doesn't name him, politely, since it's obvious that Angantyr thinks a lot of him, but neither can she hide the shiver that crawls up her spine at the memory of his mere /gaze/ turned fully upon her, only for a moment. Darkness of an order of magnitude that nearly knocked her unconscious with its mere presence.

"But if you wish to investigate this conspiracy, I will not dissuade you. You seem a man who weighs the risks fully before committing to action." Her gratitude dwells in her heart, warming her words and her smile. She bows her head, taking in his lesson on light and darkness, and quietly promises to think on what he's said.

"It was a worthy tangent, and excellent advice. Let us travel to Rabanastre. We'll see where things go from there." Nibbling her lip as though weighing a final thought, she finally requests, a bit regretfully, "Please, if it isn't too much trouble... would you mind taking the reins again? I would rest a bit more, if I can." She's not very good at being a mercenary employer, apparently. Or /very/ good, depending on perspective.

Angantyr Vespar has posed:

Angantyr takes the reigns. "Yes yes..." he says, with a grin. "As for...them, they are called the Shadow Lords." he says, calmly. "I know who they are, but we both know only little about their interest in you. Garland, is the one you mentioned...he showed me how to contain the darkness and shape it without consuming myself. He's not as bad as you might think, but he's both brutal and terrible." he says, with a nod.

"We share a mutal origin, but I know that his interest in me is part of some greater plan...for good or ill." he says, "Anyway...and I think you for your vote of confidence.

He pauses...and considers their location...

"Another half day, I think , and we can be there. Maybe more...so plenty of time to rest. Though I should probably hunt us something to eat once we get a lead on the Heartless."

Jasmine has posed:

"The Shadow Lords," Jasmine repeats softly, committing the name to memory and feeling both empowered by the first answer to so very many questions, and a bit scared by the magnitude that the organization must represent, that a person she's traveling with almost at random knows quite a bit about them.

Garland, on the other hand, she isn't fit to speak about further, and says so. "We hadn't met before. I will judge him by his actions, like everyone else," she murmurs. "As for hunting, let's please not risk the time lost on our lead. There is food enough in my pack to hold us both for a day or more. I can resupply in Rabanastre."

Succumbing again to her bone-deep weariness, which is greater than any one night's sleep can fully heal, she slowly sinks against the jostling wagon seat. She may not be able to collapse completely, but there is a degree of rest to be found, perhaps. Her head, pillowed by all that hair and a beige veil to boot, drifts largely unconsciously towards Angantyr's shoulder.

Trust is not foolishness...