In terms of the many things Apollo's occupied himself with over the years, being a retainer has easily kept him on his toes the most. And he's fought in a war.
You meet all sorts of people on the job. Sketchy characters, slimy merchants, wide-eyed adventurers, and helpful weirdos alike. It’s only gotten more chaotic thanks to his client: being in the savior of the world’s proximity has brought him in contact with a pretty colorful cast of characters.
This encounter is up there, for sure.
He wasn’t even sure what had happened at first. One moment he was minding his business and using the aetheryte, the next he’s just barely preventing a short, lithe stranger from eating shit right there in the Sharlayan aetheryte plaza. “Hey-!”
“Can’t be stumbling around like this in Sharlayan, mate,” he says once he’s collected himself after the shock and set the stranger back on his feet. He’s quite easy on the eyes, Apollo notes, but he very clearly isn’t from around these parts. “The scholars are judgy.”
—
Valoren has no idea what's just happened. All he'd done was touch the aetheryte - he hadn't even attuned to the damn thing! - and suddenly he was very much elsewhere.
No longer surrounded by goblins, instead he finds himself nearly bowling over a Viera man, who kindly helps him retain his footing. It takes a moment for him to register the man's words, then another to actually understand them.
"Sharlayan?" Valoren blinks, looking around. The architecture is the same, but noticeably more intact than the ruined colony he'd been in moments ago. "As in Old Sharlayan? The island?"
He lets go of the stranger's arm, which he now realizes he's still holding, and takes a look at the man. Just a brief glance, enough to size him up. He's not bad looking, to be sure, but he has an air of confident competency that gives Valoren pause.
—
“Yeah. Is this…not where you expected to end up?” Apollo gives the man a once-over. On first glance he had thought it was another Viera, but the elezen ears are unmistakeable. Half viera-elezen, huh? The guy looks vaguely familiar, but Apollo can’t make heads nor tails of it right now. “You’re lost, then.” —
Valoren laughs, out of bewilderment as much as mirth. "Lost is certainly a word for it. I confess, I didn't expect to end up anywhere. The bloody thing just teleported me!" He gestures to the offending aetheryte, as if the inanimate object was to blame. "I was in the Sharlayan colony in Dravania, and now, clearly, I'm not."
He shakes his head, puzzled.
—
“Ah, Idyllshire! Nice little place. Wonder if Adhkiragh is still holding the fort down.” He can feel the eyes of the curious (and some disapproving) Sharlayans moving on from their little scuffle.
“You’re quite far from home, then. Unfortunately, if you want to get back, it’s either the aetheryte or a long ship ride…”
—
Valoren shrugs slightly. Well, that’s one way to disappear. “I’d call that fortunate, actually,” he says, and does not elaborate. Instead, he sticks out his hand for a shake. He wished he’d had time to redo his nails before he’d gone on the run; gods, one of them even had a chip. “Apologies for the dramatic entrance. I’m Valoren.”
—
Fair enough. Sometimes it’s better to not know about a stranger’s baggage. He takes the offered handshake, bemused by the man’s casual nonchalance. “I’m Apollo. Nice to meet more of us in this neck of the woods. You know where you’re headed now?”
—
“Not the foggiest idea!” Valoren replies cheerily. “I suppose I’ll wander around aimlessly until I find an inn of some sort, and decide from there.” He squints at the sun, noting that it’s now earlier in the day than it was before. “Then I’ve got another Viera to find. If she’s actually here, that is.” He raises a finger as a thought occurs to him. “Hey, you said ‘more of us?’ This is a long shot, but I don’t suppose you’ve seen a Rava woman about, have you? Rather tall, red eyes and ear tips, big sword?”
Apollo takes on an expression not dissimilar to a startled cat. “Seen? That sounds like Killhare.” He squints. “Are you looking for the warrior of light? Because if you are, whatever god you pray to has just smiled on you. I’m on my way to see her myself.”
—
Valoren tilts his head. “Now that I think about it, she did look rather like those posters up around the Firmament,” he muses to himself. “And I suppose her being the warrior of light would make sense.” He nods, mind apparently made up. “Divine pity or dumb luck, I shan’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If I may, I would gladly accompany you to pay her a visit.” He adjusts his backpack with a quiet sigh. “Lead the way.”
—
“It’s funny, for being the savior of the world, people are always surprised to learn what she looks like. I suppose when people tell stories about your exploits, the little details get left out.” Apollo gestures in a direction with a sweep of his arm and starts to walk.
“Don’t worry if people stare, but also don’t talk to anyone who looks like they want to ask you a million questions. Sharlayans are smart, but they forget not every new face is interested in being studied.” He gives Valoren a sidelong glance. “And you look like someone worth studying.”
—
Valoren chuckles, shooting Apollo a wink. "Oh, certainly, but you'll have to at least take me to dinner first," he flirts. What can he say, old habits die bard... er, hard. "That's solid advice, though. While I'd happily share a tale with anyone who cares to ask, I believe that's best saved for my own time."
He gives a polite nod to an Elezen woman whose eyes were boring into him, then causually switches sides with Apollo to avoid a Roegadyn angling his way. Sharlayans were curious indeed.
"Is it far from here?" he wonders.
—
“Hm. Perhaps I will see you again after this, then.” This one certainly had stones on him, Apollo thinks. Not five minutes spent on a foreign land and he’s already flirting with a stranger.
“Not much. Just a short walk up this hill to the Baldesion Annex. Have you heard of the Students of Baldesion? They study the Echo. I’ve been hearing about it a lot since the Final Days.”
—
Valoren is about to flirt back when Apollo mentions the Students - and their studies. He barely manages to keep his face neutral at this information. "I'm vaguely familiar, yes. Were they not destroyed some years ago?"
Inside, his heart is hammering. Maybe they could explain what was happening to him. He'd never heard of anyone else with his particular condition, but if they studied the Echo, then perhaps they might know something. Valoren makes a mental note to speak with them after his meeting with Killhare.
—
"Just about. The island they were based on up and disappeared one day, taking nearly the entire organization with it. The only survivors included the founder Galuf's granddaughter, Krile. You might meet her today, actually. She's close with Killhare." The Annex soon comes into view. It's nice to talk to an ordinary person once in a while, he thinks. He doesn't get much time for chitchat nowadays.
"I knew Galuf Baldesion before everything happened: he was a great man." He holds the door to the Annex open. "After you."
—
Valoren dips into a slight bow. "Why, thank you, my good sir," he beams.
Walking inside the marble hall, he spots the Viera almost immediately. She's even taller than his visions had suggested, and her presence is unmistakable. Her laugh, directed at the receptionist, dispels any misgivings he may have had - it's full of a genuine joy that you don't hear every day. She turns to greet the two of them.
"Apollo! Glad you could make it, I-" Her gaze snaps to Valoren, and she stops short. "You!" she exclaims, narrowing her eyes. "I know you. And I would thank you to stay out of my dreams."
Valoren's bafflement is writ plainly on his face.
"Dreams?" he repeats. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about." He turns to Apollo for help.
—
Apollo's caught off guard by the sharp left turn of the energy in the room. He's only just raised a hand in greeting when he finds himself having to explain Valoren's presence.
"That would be the Echo, then," he says. "From what I've been told, sometimes it shows you people you haven't met, or events from someone's past." He fixes Valoren with a suddenly intense stare. "Have you been seeing anything odd recently? Visions of people you've never seen? Random unexplainable headaches?" Now that he thinks about it, how did Valoren come to know what Killhare looked like, but not her name or who she was?
—
Valoren sucks his teeth, wincing. "....Shit."
He glances around, noting that they're not alone in the foyer; along with the receptionist, there's also two scholars who are doing a very poor job of pretending not to be eavesdropping.
"Maybe this is a conversation best saved for more private surroundings," he says. "I assume you have private quarters of some sort here?"
Killhare exhales the sigh of someone who has resigned herself to a very long day.
"I do. Back here." She thumbs towards the doors behind her. "Ojika, would you please make sure we're not bothered? Unless it's literally life or death, I don't wanna hear about it."
The receptionist nods, and Kills heads through the doors and down the hallway.
—
Is he supposed to follow them in? It's really none of his business, but it also feels awkward to stay outside waiting for them when he's the reason Valoren got here in the first place. Killhare needs him for something, anyway. Neither of them seem to particularly mind when he enters her office and shuts the door behind them, so that must be his answer.
"Sorry. Shouldn't have put you on the spot back there." Apollo offers an apologetic smile. "But at least you're in the right place to start figuring things out."
—
Valoren shrugs, slumping his shoulders. " 'Tis not your fault. I was going to have to explain myself sooner or later regardless." He sits on the couch next to Apollo, looking about as comfortable as a lizard in a snowstorm.
"Well?" Killhare prompts, arms folded. "Let's hear that explanation, then." Gods, she's scary when she wants to be.
Val scratches his forehead awkwardly. Where the hells to begin such a thing? "First, I truly had no idea about the dreams. If I caused them, I assure you that it was unwittingly. Still, I do apologize if they have caused you distress." He pauses for a comment, but Killhare does no more than raise an eyebrow. "Second, I shall simply come out and say it: I have been receiving Echoes of you. They started in Ishgard, and led me north, to a cave in the Dravanian Forelands."
At the mention of the cave, Killhare looks... well, it's hard to read her expression, but she doesn't seem happy about it. Either that or something she ate is suddenly disagreeing with her.
—
Oh, Hydaelyn. The handsome stranger is, unfortunately, much more than a simple wayward traveler. Maybe he shouldn't have flirted with him.
"And from there, the aetheryte took you directly here to Sharlayan...obviously, this is no coincidence." Apollo looks up at Killhare. "He's come a long way, Killhare. There must be a good reason he ended up here."
—
Killhare chews her bottom lip, the tip of a fang just visible. “Would that I knew what it was. I’d say ‘gods know why’ but considering their recent… uh, nevermind. Do you have any ideas… I never caught your name, did I?”
“It’s Valoren. And no, I’m as mystified as you, I’m afraid. I left the city without a destination in mind, but were I the sort to attribute things to fate, then I would declare it was none other that led me here. As it is, I’m inclined to believe there are other powers at play here, which we have yet to see fully revealed.”
As Killhare’s brow furrows, Valoren unintentionally leans closer to Apollo.
—
This is quickly becoming a lot more than Apollo bargained for, but instead of apprehension, he finds himself becoming intrigued. It's not every day someone physically lands on top of you and shoots to the top of your list of most interesting acquaintances.
"Hm. Fate does work in funny ways..." He nudges Valoren's arm surreptitiously in a way that could easily be passed off as an accident.
—
The arm nudge does not go unnoticed — by Valoren, anyway. Killhare appears to be obliviously lost in thought.
Val stretches his arms into the air, contriving to brush against Apollo on the way down, and rests his hand conspicuously between them.
“If you say so,” he remarks. “Fate or unseen actors, it appears we shall simply have to wait and see. Now, is there something you wished to see Apollo about? Killhare?”
The warrior of light starts out of her thoughts, ears flicking to attention.
“Yeah. So there’s a sword — my sword— or rather, it was my sword, before Shadowbringer— like, way before Shadowbringer. It was Azem’s sword, actually. They sent a message - not to me directly, through a mutual friend - but they said that they left the sword for me. And they described it as being in an underground cavern, to the north of an island rife with aether and elemental magic. They said it was off the west coast of Eorzea. I think the island might be Vyllbrand, in the outer La Noscea area, but your guess is as good - probably better - than mine.”
Killhare, clearly distracted, explains this all in a rather jumbled and roundabout fashion that leaves Valoren absolutely confused.
—
It's a familiar song and dance. Subtle glances, charged "accidental" touches. It’s been fun, but now it’s time for business.
“Right. I’ve never heard of such a thing, but if it’s been there for that long, that’s not surprising. I’m assuming you’d like me to take a look at it?” He glances at Valoren. “This could have something to do with your cave, actually.”
—
Killhare nods in confirmation. “Take a look, yes. Find it and bring it back if you can. The appearance was not described, but I doubt it would be easy to miss.”
At Apollo’s words, Valoren tilts his head, pondering. “Consider me intrigued. I’ll warn you, I’m rather… unreliable, in combat. I make a fine traveling companion, but I can promise little else.” He says this with the practiced casual tone of somebody who’s well used to pressing on a particular bruise. “I may have the Echo, but it has only manifested recently, during the Final Days. I’ve received some small training with a blade in the intervening time, but I shan’t pretend I’m competent. I would be dead weight. Worse, actually. I would be a liability.” There’s an unexpected assertiveness to his words. He clearly wants to stay away from combat for reasons other than fear alone.
—
Valoren puts on a good front, but there’s clear hurt there, even if dulled. What’s your story? Apollo wonders, considering the man with new eyes.
“I can’t imagine we’ll get into too much trouble,” Apollo says. “Maybe an angry morbol or two, but nothing I can’t handle.” He offers a friendly smile. “You’ve gotten yourself this far, so I can’t imagine you’re that much of a burden.”
He stands up and addresses Killhare. “Are you going to be alright here? If we’re lucky, it won’t take us too long, but when matters involve you, nothing is as it first seems…”
—
Kills laughs, her smile returning.
“You can say that again! But yeah, I’ll be fine. If I can survive my dear sister’s baking, that is. Apparently Elinor has some new biscuit recipe,” she shudders. “If I can live through that, I can do anything.”
Valoren stands, too. He declines to comment on Apollo’s misplaced confidence in him.
—
"I still have to try something she’s made. You won't dissuade me from it, no matter how much you complain.” Apollo cracks into a wide grin.
“Should we take a day before leaving? I imagine you’d want to take a look around Sharlayan and rest before setting off on another journey,” he says to Valoren, who’s looking a little uneasy. Or maybe nauseous. It is all moving quite fast. And perhaps Apollo himself would like to know more about his traveling companion as well.
—
Valoren nods, easily summoning a smile. "Aye, I've been traveling for near a tenday now. I would rather appreciate a night spent in a comfortable bed. And perhaps some fine company," he winks.
He gives a small, flourishing bow to Killhare before taking his leave, following Apollo out the door.
—
“There is a place for visitors to stay, but it’s more of a glorified dormitory,” Apollo explains as the two walk out into the sunshine. For as quirky as its residents are, it’s a beautiful place. “I do have a guest room at my residence, but I understand if you’d rather not sleep in a stranger’s house.” He glances at Valoren. “Then again, considering your behavior back there…”
—
A chuckle escapes from Valoren. "Aw, you caught that, did you?" he grins. " 'Twould be remiss of me to decline such a generous offer - and besides, I could do far worse for fellows to share a roof with!" He grimaces comically. "Believe me. Far worse."
—
“Oh? Care to elaborate?” Apollo doesn’t make use of his Sharlayan residence often, but he’s glad he has it in times like these. It’s much cozier than houses like that of the Leveilleurs, but it’s a place to stay, and he’s grateful for it.
—
Valoren glances at Apollo as they walk. "And would you prefer that list ordered alphabetical, chronological, or ranked by degrees of dreadfulness?" he quips. "But the one that sprung to mind at present was some few years ago. Bastard was incredibly charming — literally, as it turns out. By the time he revealed himself to be an incubus, ‘twas far too late for me to escape his lair. Had my sister not realized his voidsent nature and come searching for me, I doubt I would be here today.” Valoren admires the view as they stroll along. Oh, and he even looks away from his guide long enough to see the scenery, too. “I had known from the start something was off with him, and it taught me a valuable lesson in listening to my instincts. They’re consistently correct, even if I have no logical explanation for them until later.”
—
Apollo winces. “I knew a man who fell in love with a succubus once. Nasty business. I hope you don’t blame yourself for that—he was like a man possessed. It’s what they do, after all.” The house comes into view, tucked in a cozy little area behind the larger buildings.
“Your sister sounds like a great woman. The two of you are close, then?”
—
Valoren had been preparing himself for a question like this ever since he'd decided to bring up the story. "Not exactly. She came after me to kill the incubus - rescuing me and earning the praise from our mother for it was simply a nice bonus."
He gestures to the house, which is a delightful little abode. It certainly looks comfortable. "Is this your residence?" he asks, subtly attempting to change the subject.
—
It was subtle, a slight shift to Valoren’s facial features that tipped Apollo off. A moment of panic, briefer than a second, before he slid into a practiced expression and clearly prepared response. There’s something more there. But he had been honest about there being no love lost between the two of them. Perhaps best not to continue the subject.
“It is. It’s a humble little place, but it’s served me well.” He smiles a little as his eyes take in the front of the place, before landing on the front door and falling a little. “I must warn you about who you’re about to meet, though. They’re a bit enthusiastic, but I swear they mean well—“
Before he can even finish his sentence, the door flies open and a young miqote woman comes charging out of the house at full speed. “Master Apollo! You’re back!” She draws up short at the sight of Valoren. “Oh! You brought a guest!” She buzzes around the poor man, full of questions. “You’re not from Sharlayan, are you? Are you from Thavnair? Or Eorzea? You’re not a Viera, are you? But you look like one! What’s in the b—“
“P’xirra, perhaps we should go inside the house first?” Apollo asks, politely but with a touch of desperation. “And you know you don’t have to call me ‘Master’…”
—
Valoren laughs in surprise at the unexpected welcome. He answers her questions as the trio steps inside.
"I'm from Ishgard, my mother is a Viera and my father an Elezen, the bag holds all of my current possessions, and my name is Valoren, pleasure to meet you," he rattles off smoothly. He says a silent prayer of thanks to Menphina that his sister appears to be utterly forgotten for the moment.
—
"Reaallllyyy? We've never had an Ishgardian guest before! Well, sometimes other Sharlayans are from Ishgard, but for some reason they never have time to chat with me," P'xirra says, pouting. "But you're so nice! Will you be staying the night?"
"Is the guest room ready, 'Xira?" Apollo asks, giving Valoren a sheepish look. The catgirl pops up with a look of alarm and runs off into the house without another word.
"If she's ever a bit too high-energy for you, just...let her know. She's only been here for a couple weeks, so she's eager, to say the least."
—
Valoren beams. "I don't mind in the slightest. It's rather endearing - and a refreshing change of pace. 'Tis nice to have someone interested in me. Terrible for my ego though, of course."
He drops his pack by the door with a sigh of relief, rolling his shoulders.
"Does she cook as well? I'm a dab hand in the kitchen myself, and I would be delighted to offer my services. It's the least I could do after you've been so kind to me."
—
"Oh? I'll keep that in mind, then. We wouldn't want anything to get too inflated, now would we?" Apollo shoots his guest a brief wink.
"I couldn't ask you to cook. What kind of a host would I be? Make yourself at home, I'll make us something." How long has it been since he's cooked for someone else? It may have been a good thing P'xirra was so nosy, after all. He's sure there's a few Ishgardian recipes he can rustle up. "Head up the stairs and to the right and you'll find the room."
—
Valoren folds his arms stubbornly.
“Nonsense. You’ve not only rescued me, but housed me, and restored my purpose. Please, allow me this small act of gratitude. Whatever ingredients you have on hand, I can promise you won’t be disappointed. It’s one of the few things I can do well.” He taps his foot, clearly not going anywhere.
—
“You give me too much credit. I only did what was right. But if you insist, I won’t protest. Anything you find in there is at your disposal, and I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” Apollo briefly wonders where this sudden need to prove himself comes from, but he is itching to take a bath, so he’s in no place to look a gift horse in the mouth.
It wasn’t on purpose, obviously, but it’s not his fault he got so cozy. The warm water was just so soothing after a long bit of travel, and who knows when he’ll have another chance to relax like this? Before he knows it, he’s dozing off, arms propped up on the side of the tub.
—
Valoren takes stock of the fridge, pantry, and spice cabinet like a general assessing his troops. This may not be his home territory, but he finds the terrain is still familiar. He soon sets to work on a classic Ishgardian chicken dish braised in a silky wine sauce. Bacon, mushrooms, and pearl onions complete the delightful meal. Valoren pads put the plate with an improvised ingredient inspired by his hearty cooking at the tavern, and adds roasted potatoes as well.
“Apollo!” he calls out as he’s finished setting the table. “Dinner is served!”
There is a conspicuous lack of response from the master of the house.
“Apollo?”
Nothing. Not even a whisker of that Miqo’te from earlier. Valoren’s brow creases, and he heads upstairs. If his own room was on the right, then Apollo’s must be down this left hall. He knocks softly on the door.
“Apollo? Darling, dinner is ready.”
Though there’s no reply, Val’s keen ears pick up an intermittent dripping noise from inside. Had Apollo drawn a bath? Gods, had he fallen asleep in the bath?
Valoren tries the door and finds it unlocked. The room is empty of clutter and Viera alike. But there’s that dripping noise from what’s presumably the bathroom. Val walks briskly across the room and, after half a moment’s pause, opens the bathroom door.
—
“Mhn–!” Mercifully, Apollo startles awake at the opening of the door, and looks around bleary-eyed for a moment. “My apologies, I seem to have fallen asleep…” The usually composed Viera seems more than a little disoriented for being caught off guard, and stands up without a second thought. Thankfully, the tub is deep…enough…but only treacherously so.
—
Valoren processes for a second before politely averting his eyes.
“Then I’m glad I found you before you drowned. And here I thought I was tired.” He fastidiously inspects the floor. Nice tiles. “I’ll, ah, leave you to get dressed. Dinner is ready when you are.”
It takes every onze of Valoren’s willpower not to look as he backs away.
—
“Yes, I…try not to make a habit of this sort of thing.” He grabs a towel, seemingly still oblivious to the current situation. “My apologies for making you come get me. I’ll be down in a moment.”
Confoundingly, he still doesn’t seem fazed when he eventually does make it downstairs, hair still damp and tousled. “Something smells delicious,” he says with a grin.
—
Valoren sniffs the air in an exaggerated manner. "Why yes! Yes you do," he winks. "But there's dinner as well. I hope you like it!" He gives a flourishing bow to the table, which has been set quite nicely - the napkins are even folded. "Dish up!"
—
“My compliments to the chef, then.” Apollo sits and takes a bite of the food, chewing thoughtfully. “The chicken is good as well.” Heh.
He speaks up again after a few moments of enjoy the meal. “So…Ishgardian, huh? My experience with most elezen there tends to bring to mind the word ‘stuffy’. Which is not how I’d describe you.”
—
Valoren is quite pleased with how the meal turned out. Not bad for surprise ingredients, honestly.
"Stuffy is rather accurate when it comes to the upper class - the noble houses especially. I hail from far less glamourous origins. Not quite in the Brume, but adjacent to it, and I've met with all sorts." He takes a drink of water, buying time to consider his next words. "My parents are adventurers - or were, before they settled down to raise my sister and I. My father, the Elezen, was raised as one of those stuffy sorts, but he abandoned his title when he left Ishgard."
He glances at his host.
"And you? My mother told me some stories of Golmore. You don't seem like a typical Wood Warder."
—
Apollo sucks in a sharp breath, his posture instantly stiffening. It’s clear this is a sore subject for him, and he’s trying to find a way to put it delicately.
“Well, that’s not a surprise. I haven’t been an actual wood warder in quite a while. And to be fair, I was never that good at it either.” He forces a smile. “But I assure you that you’re in good hands all the same. I’ve been a bard for just as long.”
—
Valoren can hear Apollo's hesitation loud and clear, and pounces upon the potential subject change.
"Another bard? How delightful! What instruments do you play? Do you compose at all?" He doesn't have to feign excitement for music, as meeting a fellow bard always brigthened his day.
—
“Truly? I can play anything. But my favorite is the guitar.” He gets a bit of a wistful look on his face. “I used to compose when I was in a band. But that was a long time ago.”
He makes a dismissive hand gesture. “You don’t want to hear about that, I’m sure. You didn’t mention being a bard yourself. Tell me about that.”
—
Valoren leans forward eagerly. “Quite the contrary, I would love to hear more! What genres did you favor? Do you still play? Perhaps we could collaborate some time in the future!”
—
Apollo fiddles with his hair, a touch embarrassed. "Mostly punk rock and pop rock...I mean, it was such an obnoxious young person thing to do. But it was a lot of fun. I'm sure I could still play, but I haven't had any time or reason to in a while."
He folds his hands under his chin and leans forward at Valoren's offer. "I would like that. Sounds like I have myself a very delightful travel companion."
—
“Wonderful! How fortuitous that I brought my flute with me,” Val beams. “My preferred instrument is the lute, accompanied by my voice, but such an instrument wouldn’t exactly be convenient to pack. I typically find myself playing in taverns… well, found myself. Until recently, ‘twas how I earned a living. I created music, but it was largely superficial tavern fare: raunchy ballads, crude sing-along anthems, background medleys, and the like. I confess none of my properly meaningful compositions have ever seen the light of day.” Val sighs dramatically. “And thus, my genius goes utterly unappreciated,” he laments.
Valoren realizes the last of his dinner is growing cold, and he finishes it off.
—
Apollo snorts, but it's more out of amusement than dismissiveness. "Again, stuffy. You'll find your audience, I'm sure of it."
As if detecting some subtle disturbance, he tilts his head. "I wonder where—" On cue, P'xirra appears in the doorway. "Mister Apolloooooo, someone's at the door," she says sunnily. "He's sketchy."
Apollo purses his lips. "No rest for the wicked," he mutters under his breath. "You'll have to excuse me."
When he returns, he looks somehow even more weary and tired. "Forgive me for up and abandoning you in the middle of the meal. You and I have both had a long day, it seems."
—
Valoren, who’s just finished doing the dishes, turns to face Apollo. He frowns. “Who was at the door? Anyone we ought to be concerned about?”
Though he’s loathe to admit it, the day has been tiring on him as well. A yawn escapes before he can stop it.
—
"Nobody you need to concern your pretty countenance about. We should both be getting our rest." The yawn gets to him, pressing a hand to his face. "Don't worry about the cleanup. You've done enough tonight."
—
Valoren cracks a smirk. "Too late on that count! Everything is clean, we need but to put it away." Then he sighs, leaning against the counter and folding his arms. "But perhaps that can wait. I, for one, am exhausted, and I daresay you feel much the same. Perhaps we ought to call it a night." He stifles another yawn, to partial success.
—
"You are quite the busy bee. You have nothing to prove to me, you know." Apollo offers a drowsy smile. "Sleep soundly, Valoren."
He tosses and turns that night. Apollo figured it was just sleeping in his own bed again after being away for a bit, but there's an uneasiness that won't let him be. He's only been asleep for a while when he's woken with a start.
—
Valoren doesn't have the presence of mind to think twice about waking Apollo up. Hells, he barely even thinks once before spilling out of bed. He can feel the misery flowing like venom in his veins as he stumbles down the hallway in a near panic. Can't let myself. Not here. Not now. Not around him.
He opens the door without knocking and finds himself looming over the Viera. After a moment of hesitation, deciding how best to wake the man, Apollo wakes on his own.
"I-It's me," Valoren stammers. "I'm sorry, I had a nightmare, and I-"
His voice gives out, and his throat closes up. Not here, not now, NOTAROUNDHIM!
—
"Valoren? Gods, what time is i—" Something's wrong. He can't quite put his finger on it just yet...
The way Valoren sounds so small, so vulnerable strikes a long-buried chord in Apollo. "Hey, hey." He sits up and scoots over to leave space on the bed. "What happened? Are you alright?"
—
Valoren shakes his head, still unable to speak, unable to breathe. He knows he has to take deep breaths, they always calm him down, but he can’t, he can’t BREATHE. His lungs are filled with smoke instead of air, and he cannot, CANNOT breathe.
Valoren topples forward onto the bed, collapsing on top of Apollo. Something is very wrong. Black and white mist begins to rise from Valoren’s body, and as he turns his face upwards, there is something unnerving about it; the skin there is pale and smooth, and the slowly spreading smile doesn’t reach his hollow eyes. He still can’t find his voice, but it hardly matters now. The words he would have spoken are rapidly disappearing into the fog that occludes his very being.
—
For the briefest passing moment, Apollo wonders what the hell he's gotten himself into. And then the next moment, he thinks Well, it has been too long since something went very, very wrong. I was beginning to wonder when the next world-ending threat was going to show up.
"Breathe. Valoren, can you hear me? Breathe." Maybe it's not a good idea to hold someone who's currently being bathed in an ominous black and white fog, but he does it anyway. If there's even a chance that Valoren is still here, he must be terrified. "What's happening to you?" Apollo murmurs, pressing him closer to his chest. The creepy smile can be addressed later.
—
Valoren hears Apollo’s words dimly, as though from far away, telling him to breathe. And some primal, instinctive part of him registers the instruction, and responds. Valoren finally gasps, coughing out the corruption from his lungs. He draws in another breath, then another, and he finds himself able to breathe again. He clings to Apollo like a life preserver in a storm, clutching at his shirt with trembling fingers. The cold mist around him dissipates. Slowly, his expression melts back into something normal. Terrified, but normal. He tries his voice again.
“I suppose I’m going to have to explain that,” he croaks, offering a sad half-smile. He’s still holding Apollo, though his grip is less vice-like now.
—
Apollo can feel Valoren’s grip loosen as the ominous mist fades away, and he feels himself let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. The worst of it is over, it seems.
He loosens his arms around Valoren, but doesn’t move away just yet. “Do you want to?” he responds. “You just went through something terrible. You’re shaking.”
—
“Not the first time,” Valoren sighs unsteadily. “I think I’m in control though. Best to explain unless it happens again.” He shifts, moving closer ro Apollo and getting comfortable. “The Final Days left their scars on us all, and I did not escape unscathed. I shouldn’t have survived them, frankly. But I found that once I transformed into a blasphemy, I still retained some sense of self — and I was able to transform back. This power is only partially under my control. I have only a small say in when I transform, and what I do when I have. It can catch me unawares when I feel potent negative emotions, such as having a nightmare — or being in combat.”
—
He could have done without the callback to the Final Days, honestly. Apollo had briefly thought about it during the ordeal, and quickly discarded it. Meteion and her sisters were no longer singing the song of oblivion. It couldn’t be, right…? “Just when I thought life had finally run out of things to surprise me with,” he murmurs.
“Are you still sure you want to come with me? If you stay in Sharalayan, I can’t imagine you would have many reasons to transform.”
—
Valoren shakes his head, burying his face against Apollo's chest. His next words are muffled.
"I can imagine, actually." Val turns his head to speak more clearly. "As evidenced by my nightmare, the despair can find me wherever I am. I can run all I like, but it lives within me."
He sighs.
"No, I would much prefer to remain with you. I've never been able to interrupt a transformation before - only prevent them - but you managed to help me do so. Still.... I can hardly ask you to bear this burden with me. The curse is mine. I do not wish to endager you, nor will I ask you to endanger yourself. And you shall certainly be in more peril than usual if you remain in proximity to me."
He scans Apollo's face, searching for a reaction.
"The choice is yours."
—
“Well, I can’t just leave you behind after that, now can I?” Apollo is almost chipper now that the danger seems to have passed. “Besides, your visions may well have something to do with your affliction. We won’t know unless we go look.”
Absentmindedly, he smooths Valoren’s hair in a soothing motion. “Besides, I’ve been in worse predicaments, I promise you. For a while, waking up with a knife at my throat was the least of my worries. And somehow I doubt you’ll get to that point.”
Apollo gives what he hopes is a comforting smile. “Killhare and her friends went to great lengths to forestall the Final Days, you know. Let’s not have you become the final victim.”
—
Valoren doesn't say anything right away. Final victim. If only it were as simple as that. Should he say anything...? He doesn't want Apollo to worry, but he deserves to know. If Apollo willing to travel with him, then he should be aware that he's staying beside a monster.
Then again, if he knew... then maybe that would be the end of it. Valoren had never particularly valued honesty before, so why start now?
He gives a small chuckle that he hopes doesn't sound as empty as it feels. "You know, despite everything, I actually believe you when you say there's hope."
—
“There’s always hope. As long as we live to see another day, we can find a reason to keep going.” There’s a touch of melancholy to his words, but now is not the time to get into his feelings. “Will you be alright tonight? I can stay near you if it would help you sleep.”
—
Valoren almost brushes him off. He's about to make his excuses and leave when he stops. Maybe he should stay. Just once, he could stay.
"I... I would appreciate that, actually." He doesn't make eye contact as he says the words.
—
“Hey, we may as well get used to it now. Who knows how rough we’ll be sleeping along the journey.” Apollo yawns widely. “Sweet dreams this time around, Valoren.”
It’s not so early in the morning when Apollo wakes slowly. There’s some sort of weight on him, and it takes a few drowsy moments to realize that it’s Valoren, cuddled up into him.
His face is somehow even younger when he’s asleep. It makes Apollo wonder what burdens Valoren could be carrying that he doesn’t know about yet, that he looks so changed when he isn’t busy keeping up appearances.
He has a feeling he’ll find out eventually.
Apollo’s loathe to wake his sleeping companion. There’s a bit of nostalgia to it, too—when was the last time he woke up with someone in his arms like this? He’s having trouble remembering, which is never fun to realize.
It does neither of them any good to project onto Valoren like this, Apollo thinks. With careful precision, he extricates himself from the tangle of limbs and pads quietly out of the room. When he returns, Valoren is already awake. “You slept soundly, I see.”
—
Valoren yawns, stretching with a sleepy smile. “I certainly did! Despite the rough start to the night, I got better rest than I can recall in years.” He swings his legs out of bed and scratches his head. “Ah, I believe I left my shirt in the guest room. I’ll be right back!”
He brushes past Apollo and down the hallway. As soon as his face is out of sight, it crumples. Valoren had always rose before dawn, either due to nightmares, overheating, or because he had to sneak out of some stranger’s bed — usually some combination thereof. This time, though, his sleep had been dreamless, he was comfortably cool, and the stranger’s bed… was already empty by the time he woke up. Damn it all to hells. He’d stayed, he’d actually fucking stayed, and for what? Just to be the one left behind. Left alone. He’d woken up alone.
Valoren closes the guest room door behind him and leans against it, fighting back tears. Come on, you pathetic wretch. Pull yourself together. Last night was a close enough call; we don’t want an incident.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Valoren imagines the feelings being crumpled into a tiny ball, smaller and smaller until they’re barely a speck. Not that it makes them any less heavy, of course. But at least now they’re easier to ignore.
Right. Shirt. Valoren dresses, and by the time he reaches the bottom step, he’s done a marvelous job of appearing just fine.
—
It’s the small things, Apollo has learned over his many years. A clipped tone. A single flutter of the fingers, a fidget of the foot. This time, it was Valoren rushing to leave the room, a little too quickly. The young are always in a rush, he reasons to himself with a shrug, and sets about his own morning routine. But he can’t quite shake the uneasy feeling settling about him.
His concerns were unfounded, Apollo thinks as Valoren sweeps down the stairs, as sprightly as yesterday. “Coffee?” He offers, holding aloft a mug. “Or do you prefer tea, like a true son of Ishgard?”
—
“It must be the Viera in me, because I do enjoy my coffee!” he grins. “Especially when it’s over-brewed and over-sweetened. Three sugars, if you please!”
He claps his hands together, the picture of enthusiasm.
“Right, what’s the plan for the day? I assume we’re getting an early start to our adventure?”
—
“Coming right up,” Apollo answers with an easygoing smile. A sweet tooth, he notes as he prepares the coffee and slides it over to his houseguest.
“Hold your chocobos, now. We likely will be setting out today, but it would be prudent to do some preparation. I’m headed for the Sharlayan archives, then a brief stop at the Agora to stock up on supplies." He glances at Valoren. "Anything you think you'll need? You could come with me, or take a stroll around Sharlayan. It would be a shame to leave so quickly without taking in the views."
—
“I’ll come with you! I’m sure you’ll make a fine tour guide.” He accepts the coffee and finds it perfectly sweet and potent, just to his liking. “And while I did pack rather generously for my trip, I have found some odd items I now wish I’d brought. Shopping will be most helpful.”
—
Apollo nods. “Gather your bearings, and we’ll head out in a few.” He gets up and heads out of the room, presumably to put the last of his affairs in his house in order before leaving.
Almost as soon as the master of the house is away, P’xirra sweeps into the kitchen where Valoren is sipping his coffee. Her demeanor is different: urgent and skittish. “Good morning, mister Valoren,” she says, eyes darting back and forth from him to the doorway.
In an instant, she’s pressed herself into Valoren’s personal space: not quite touching him, but certainly a closeness meant for whispering. Her eyes are narrowed uncharacteristically for the usually-cheerful miqo’te. “I like you very much,” she says, voice low and almost threatening. “You’re kind. So I have a warning for you.
“I know you spent the night together...but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your distance.” Is it possessiveness in her eyes? Jealousy? It’s hard to tell, but there’s some deep sadness to her despite the way she speaks.
She takes a deep, steadying breath. “Master Apollo...he’s a good man. But he sees the world differently than you or I. Have heed...I would not wish to see you hurt.” And she’s gone, as quickly as she entered.
Apollo is back not long after with his own pack. “Ready to go?”
—
Valoren blinks, snapping back to attention at Apollo's voice. "Yeah!" he says. His coffee is cold now, and he swallows it in one chug. He rummages through his backpack, shoulder-deep as he paws around for - aha! His wallet.
He shoulders the pack and smiles brightly, looking for all the world like a kid going to summer camp. "Lead the way, my good sir!" He bows towards the door, and off they go.
—
“Every corner of the star has its own charms, but I’ve always returned to Sharlayan,” Apollo says as he leads Valoren through the city. “Mostly for practical reasons, but also because whenever it changes, it stays the same. If that makes sense.” His ties to Sharlayan run old and deep, but he’s never been interested in influencing its growth himself. The waters of time have a strong current, but Sharlayan has stood stable and constant.
Apollo had doubted that the archives would have much information of use on a sword so ancient and obscure, but it was worth a shot anyway. Before long, the pair is spat back out into the Sharlayan sunshine, headed for the Agora. Valoren’s a pleasant companion, but he knew that already. Their little promenade is mostly an opportunity for Apollo to watch and study him. He tries not to be nosy when it comes to strangers, but he can hardly call Valoren one anymore. Not after last night, at least.
They arrive in Limsa Lominsa ere long, Apollo filling his lungs with the familiar briny air. Limsa Lominsa’s bleached-white stones and ocean breezes are reminiscent of Sharlayan, but the two cities could not be more different.
—
Valoren can't help but keep a little closer to Apollo in the bustling seaside city. While he makes an effort to project his usual confident air, he can't help but feel unnerved by so many individuals about. Ishgard was sort of a controlled chaos, but this? This was just the chaos.
Still, he manages to escape from the city un-pickpocketed. Once outside the bounds of Limsa, Apollo summons his chocobo. Valoren raises an eyebrow at the large bird - it's a bright white, similar to his own, like the sort that are typically given as wedding gifts. Uh oh.
"Beautiful chocobo," Valoren comments. "Was he a wedding gift?" He tries not to let his dread seep into his voice.
—
"Of a sort," Apollo says, stroking the bird's neck, who coos underneath its master's touch. "He's a descendant of a bird I was given as a wedding gift." He glances at Valoren, who despite his best efforts, looks like he's just watched someone empty the contents of their stomach in front of him.
"Lest you worry, I'm no longer married," Apollo says, his tone chipper. In one smooth motion, he boosts himself into the chocobo's saddle, then turns to offer Valoren a hand up. "Shall we?"
—
One can almost hear the gears turning behind Valoren’s eyes as he processes this statement and the tone it’s spoken with. He stares at the offered hand for a moment before his face bounces back to that easy smile. Gracefully, he accepts the hand up.
“We shall, my good sir.” He swings himself onto the back of the chocobo, sliding an arm loosely around Apollo’s waist. Not too cozy, mind you, just enough to hold on. Obviously.
—
Apollo whistles to spur the chocobo into action. "I'd suggest you hold on tight. He gets....excited" is Apollo's only warning before the chocobo dashes off at a sprint borderline implausible for such a large bird carrying two passengers. He lets out a mischievous laugh as he feels Valoren bump against his back.
It's not long until the pair find themselves in Camp Bronze Lake, a place Apollo hasn't found himself visiting in a while. "I'd forgotten how beautiful it is here," he says, shading his eyes from the sun.
—
“Yeah,” Valoren says. “The view is… truly beautiful.” He isn’t looking at the scenery when he replies. He accidentally lets out a wistful sigh, catching himself too late. “So? Where do we start? Do we have much to go on, besides ‘cave’ and ‘elemental energy?’ Or have you made sense of that already?” Now Valoren does look around them. The landscape is in fact breathtaking, with the glistening waters and floating ruins of… hey, wait!
Valoren points at the main structure. “Isn’t that the Wanderer’s Palace?” he wonders. “The white mages of Nym were famed for their connection to the elements, were they not? ‘Twould make sense that they would build atop an aetherial confluence. Perhaps we might start there?”
Valoren isn’t sure of himself, but he hopes his knowledge is accurate — and maybe even useful.
For the first time, Apollo looks truly uneasy. "How astute of you," he says, giving Valoren a rueful smile and pat on the shoulder. "I had anticipated that we would have to pay a visit to the Wanderer's Palace." He looks toward that direction with trepidation. "Killhare says she's been there not once, but twice, so we shouldn't find too much trouble..." There's a terrible feeling in his stomach he just can't shake.
—
Valoren eyes Apollo’s face, seeing it crease with worry.
“Of course, we could always start elsewhere,” he suggests. “Perhaps the locals know of such a cave?” He hasn’t dismounted the chocobo yet, and he squeezes his arm reassuringly around Apollo. “And if trouble does find us in the palace, I’m certain we’ll be able to handle it.”
Though Valoren wracks his brain, he can’t quite remember what happened to Nym. It had been destroyed in the War of the Magi, of course, but how?
—
“It’s worth a try,” he says, dismounting the chocobo and helping Valoren down. “Killhare did say a cave, and I can’t imagine Wanderer’s Palace counts as one…”
Unfortunately, the locals are only helpful for pointing out local caves, most of which have already been fully explored. There’s a few that Apollo notes in his mind have potential, but as they go, his heart sinks as he realizes Wanderer’s Palace is quickly becoming their best lead.
“I should probably explain why I’m so apprehensive of the place,” he explains to Valoren. “The place is—or, if we’re lucky, was—swarming with tonberries. I’ve fought a lot of different things in my life, but tonberries…they’re different.” He barely suppresses a shiver. “Awful little creatures. Think lalafells with anger issues and a talent for murder.”
—
Valoren grimaces comically. “I didn’t think lalafells could get more murderous!” Then he looks at Apollo’s face, and sees the man is deadly serious. “Or rather… I’ll trust your judgement, but I’m certain they’re nothing we can’t deal with.” He taps a finger to his chin. “You speak as though you’ve been here before — do you have a map? Perhaps we could compose an exit plan, should worst come to worst. I confess, I have the directional abilities of a drunken karakul; I would hate to get lost in there.” Valoren wonders if he can distract Apollo from the tonberries by focusing him on navigating instead. Surely the little shits couldn’t be that bad. Lalafells were tiny, after all, and if these things were the same size, why, they’d hardly be much of a threat. Right? —
Apollo does at least crack a halfhearted smile at Valoren’s joke, but it’s quickly replaced with a grim determination. “I’ve come here to Camp Bronze Lake on many an occasion—the hot springs are great—but never to the place itself. I couldn’t find a map, but the way it was described makes it seem like a relatively straightforward place.” The other Viera raises a fair point, he thinks. He’s good at keeping a sense of direction, having honed it on decades of wandering forests, but that would have to be something to pay attention to…
As it turns out, keeping track of where the way out was would the last of their worries—on account of the numerous remains of adventurers littered all along the winding paths. “Stay close, and keep your head on a swivel,” he tells Valoren, drawing his bow. “Some of these are too…recent for my liking.”
—
Valoren swallows, finding his throat dry. He hadn’t been concerned before this, but Apollo’s anxiety seems to be contagious. Despite this — or perhaps because of it — he tries to lighten the mood. “What, no looting?” he jokes. “I say, some of this gear must be positively vintage! And it’s not like they’ll be missing it, eh?”
Still, he draws his rapier. He might be hopeless against an equivalently armed opponent, but the weapon would at least help keep small, malevolent creatures outside shanking distance of his kneecaps.
—
“Looting? I didn’t take you for the type, prettyboy,” Apollo replies, poking a nearby helmet with his foot. “Tell you what. If you’re willing to carry it back, take as much of it as you want.” If we survive this, he doesn’t add. His ears twitch, straining to pick out any unusual sounds aside from their own footsteps and the occasional calls of birds.
—
Valoren almost squeaks at the endearment, but manages to turn it into a cough. “On second thought, mayhap not.” He clears his throat. “It’s rather quite dusty.” Perfect cover-up. Totally. “And carrying it sounds suspiciously like effort. I suppose if we’re not in a rush on the way out, then.”
Though Apollo undoubtedly has the keener senses, Valoren does his best to stay on high alert. Not too tense — he remembers his training on how crucial it was to remain loose, “fluid” even, for optimal response times — but extremely aware nonetheless.
—
"Don't worry, I won't let you get your hands too dirty." He's teasing, but it's clear his heart's not in it. With no warning but the prick of his ears, he turns and shoots towards a rustling noise.
Just a rat.
"I'm usually not like this," he mutters, mostly to himself. "This place makes the hairs of the back of my neck stand on end." The emptiness of the place means only two things: it truly is empty, or they're walking into an ambush. It's driving him crazy not knowing which one.
—
Valoren doesn't bother with further humorless jokes. As Apollo seems to be paying extreme attention to potential enemies, Valoren takes it upon himself to attempt to navigate.
He points - slowly, no sudden movements - towards the empty doorway to their left, where stone stairs lead down into the darkness.
"If we're looking for a cave, we may wish to descend that staircase?" he says softly.
—
The place may be called Wanderer’s Palace, but he’s not keen on wandering around for longer than he absolutely has to. “Good idea.”
The stairs lead down into dark, damp passageways, a stark change from the open sunlight of the rest of the ruins. His heart drops when he spots light up ahead.
“Those are tonberry lanterns,” he starts. “They’ve retreated underground—“ He whips around, arrow already nocked. “Watch out!” This time, he hits a tonberry, not a rat, moments away from burying its knife in Valoren’s back. Or, uh, his calf, probably.
He can hear shifting footsteps all around them. “We’re surrounded,” he says grimly. “I knew those little cunts were planning something.”
—
"Well," says Valoren. "Shit."
Now that they can actually see the threat, he finds himself calming down. Valoren turns, putting his back to Apollo's.
"Right. You lead us forward, clearing the path with your arrows. I'll watch our back-" he pauses to skewer a Tonberry scuttling towards him from the side, "-and make sure the bastards don't try anything. We'll both keep an eye out for any natural caves. Our goal is not to win, but to get through. Okay?"
—
Despite their relatively dire circumstances, he can't help but commend his companion's clearheadedness. "Good plan." This whole encounter is beginning to take him back, and not to a good place. This is why he avoids Gridania and La Noscea nowadays. Too many painful memories.
"I don't like that they're all clustered together..." he mutters. "I'll clear any in our way, but if you can avoid them, it's best to save your strength."
They don't find a cave, but they do stumble across..."This looks like an arena." It's a large square courtyard, suspiciously empty of any inhabitants.
—
Valoren follows, trusting Apollo to guide them forwards. He steps carefully backwards. His eyes flick around at each movement, and soon he finds there are fewer and fewer movements to follow.
Squinting against the sudden sunlight, Valoren backs in front of Apollo. A quick glance around reveals the accuracy of Apollo’s words, and then his eyes are trained once more on the dark corridor behind them.
“An arena, or a trap,” he says grimly. “Keep going, and watch the front entrance; I’ll watch behind us. And we should spread it out. If it is a trap, I’d prefer they not catch us both at once.” He strafes to the side as he speaks, body taut as Apollo’s bowstring.
Absentmindedly, Apollo moves forward, thinking about smoothly this is going. How long had it been since he had someone to watch his back like this?
Taking Valoren's advice, he moves closer to the far exit, arrow nocked. He catches sight of a tonberry out of the corner of his eye and turns, taking it out with practiced deadliness. "We shouldn't stay here long—"
He feels a presence behind him and reaches backwards for another arrow, but his heart sinks when he realizes he was too slow. He only just manages to catch a glimpse of his attacker before he's stabbed in the thigh.
By a giant tonberry.
—
"aPOLLO!" Valoren's voice breaks as he shouts. He sprints towards Apollo, carelessly turning his back on the gateway behind him, but he's too late. The tonberry's knife pierces through the Viera's leg, shearing through his pants to sink deep into the tender flesh. Crimson blooms rapidly from the injury.
All of Valoren's careful plans and confident calmness are gone in a haze of panic. Fuck, he could hardly heal a papercut, let alone an injury like this. And that Tonberry was very much still an active threat. Come on, Valoren, THINK!
He can't maneuver himself between the Tonberry and Apollo, nor can he guess at where vital organs may be on a creature of this size. Incapacitating or disarming the Tonberry would take too long. And he needed to get this thing away from Apollo now.
Acting on impulse, Valoren swings his rapier at the Tonberry's lantern. It collides with a crash and a splash; the lantern shatters, sending shards of glass and burning oil flying into the Tonberry.
That certainly got the fucker's attention. Valoren glances to Apollo.
—
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He got careless, even when he knew there was an active threat. It's not like him to make mistakes like this. He got lucky this time—this injury will surely hurt like a bitch and take forever to heal without magic, but right now he only needs to worry about stemming the flow of blood. Oh, and the tonberry still standing menacingly above him.
The adrenaline is doing a good job of keeping Apollo from feeling the injury too keenly, but all of that goes away when he's forced to drop and roll away from the tonberry making another swipe. A terrible scream tears out of his throat before he can help himself. "I'm fine, I'm fine!" he yells, not because he actually is fine, but because he doesn't need Valoren freaking out as well. Shit, where's his bow? With some effort, he pulls out his backup knife, but that won't do him much good when he's up against that big fuck-off Tonberry knife.
Being on the floor turns out to be a boon, because Valoren's quick thinking misses Apollo entirely. He blocks another, thankfully smaller tonberry's blade and ends it with a quick, clean cut. He's got to find a way to stem the bleeding, but every movement sends pain shooting up his leg and throughout his body. "SHIT!" he hollers. "Valoren, get away from that—" Apollo's cut off by a fresh new wave of pain that has him gasping like a fish and clutching his injury, hands slick with tonberry and his own blood.
—
Valoren can hear the pain and panic in Apollo’s voice. And yet the man was still trying to get Valoren away from the danger, never mind the threat to himself. Well, Valoren would have none of it.
I’m not losing anyone else. Not again. Not HIM.
It’s almost ethereal, the way Valoren glides forwards to intercept the slash aimed at Apollo’s neck. Though the knife skitters off Valoren’s own blade, the momentum sends him flying — away from the Tonberry, and away from Apollo. He cannot let that happen.
Valoren looks up from the half-knelt position he landed in to see the Tonberry approaching Apollo. Its movement was deliberate. Malicious. Inexorable. Hopeless.
”There’s always hope. As long as we live to see another day, we can find a reason to keep going.”
Apollo’s own words from the previous night echo in Valoren’s mind. They are the spark that ignites a fire in his heart — one he knows has been naught but dead ashes for years. He burns cold, vision obscured by rising black mist. This time, he does not fight the transformation. He breathes deep of the stinging smoke, even as his face contorts into a waxy grin.
As his mind is overtaken by darkness, he fixes one thought in its forefront:
…he hopes it will be enough
Apollo opens his mouth to say something as Valoren pulls off a truly impressive intercept, moving with a quickness that leaves him feeling a little breathless. And maybe a little hot under the collar. Now is not the time.
He wants to do something, anything at all to help, but his leg makes any small movement agonizing. It's been a while since he's felt this helpless, and he hates it. This is what he's been trying to avoid for so long, the dark pit that opens up inside him whenever he's in a situation he can't get out of.
Then he feels it. Feels it in the air and the aether around him before he looks up and sees Valoren transforming, just as he had that night in Sharlayan. Gods, he had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He knows all too well how it feels to be a living weapon, both himself and those around him. He wishes it hadn't come to this.
He doesn't really get a say, though, because that's when he goes out like a light.
When Apollo comes to, the first thing he sees is Valoren's face. "You're back," is the first thing out of his mouth.
—
Valoren feels as though he’s just been saved from drowning, pulled from the tide by Apollo’s words.
“I’m back? Gods, I thought I’d lost you!” Valoren laughs from the sheer relief of it.
He takes stock of the situation. The large Tonberry is a brutal, gory corpse; Valoren would have assumed wild animals had savaged it, had it not been dismembered with such cruel precision. A handful of smaller tonberry corpses were littered around as well. Or rather a few more than a handful, if Valoren was being honest, which he never was.
He turns his attention to Apollo, who’s still bleeding profusely. Valoren realizes he’s cupping the Viera’s face, and does not withdraw his hand.
“Apollo, you’re hurt badly. I’ve some small healing magic, but a wound like this… well, I’m sure you know better than I what can be done about it. My healing, weak though it may be, is at your disposal.”
Apollo finds himself laughing too, now that most of the danger has passed. “I was worried about you transforming,” he says. “Let’s not get in the habit of letting you do that, but…” He looks around at the carnage with a mix of horror and fascination. “What happened to being a liability?”
He shrugs at Valoren’s assessment of his injury. “It’s just a flesh wound. Hurts like hell, though.” He winces as he shifts a little too much. “Can you stop the bleeding?” It’s slowed significantly, but he definitely can’t afford to lose much more.
—
Valoren nods, swallowing hard. Right, stopping bleeding would be simple enough; it was nothing as complex as re-forming organs, he was merely closing the wound.
He moves to hover his palm over the gash, pale blue healing magic illuminating the blood on his hands. Though his fingers tremble, he pushes the aether out of himself and into Apollo, encouraging the flesh to knit itself together.
As Valoren's breathing becomes shallow, he hopes Apollo won't notice the toll the simple spell had taken on him. He's grateful now that he never mentioned his aether deficiency. On a good day, he has perhaps a quarter of the aether of a small child. Once, on a bad day, the chirurgeons had told him he should be dead.
Still, he continues fueling the spell, trying to get the injury completely closed. Please just let me have enough for this. Please? He'd never been much of a praying man, but now Valoren says a silent plea to whatever forces would listen.
And something must have been listening indeed, because he finds a newfound reserve of strength to continue the healing. Soon, the skin stretches unbroken over the spot, leaving not so much as a scar or blemish to show for the grievous wound. He sits back, face pallid but smiling, and admires his work.
—
Apollo stares at the now-nonexistent wound in disbelief. “You just keep surprising me, don’t you?” he whispers in amazement. He tries moving the limb, and other than a bit of remaining soreness, he seems to be right as rain.
He springs back up to standing, assessing the situation and checking himself for any other injuries, when he notices Valoren’s condition. “Ah, shit, shouldn’t have asked you to do that right after a transformation,” he says, kneeling next to Valoren. He’s not looking so good, and there’s something not quite right about his aether… “This place has already given us enough grief. We should retreat and rest.”
“Well, maybe,” Valoren stammers. “Or we could head downwards again. Do you suppose I’ve frightened off the rest of those little green fucks?” He takes a shaky breath, then accepts Apollo’s hand up.
“I’m not sure I like the idea of resting. Even with one of us on watch…” He leaves unspoken the events of the previous night. “Besides, if we retreat, will we not lose our progress into the belly of the beast?”
—
“I have no doubt you gave them a show to remember,” Apollo says with a wink, already feeling much better.
“I don’t like the idea either, but I would rather not be left without a choice.” He frowns. “I feel good as new thanks to you, but you don’t look so well, and especially considering you just transformed…I think I’ve put you in enough mortal peril for one day. At the very least, we should take a moment before moving on, yeah?”
—
“I’m fine,” Valoren asserts, and promptly collapses as his knees buckle beneath him.
“…damn it all to hells,” he mumbles into the ground. With a groan, he rolls onto his back, blinking up at Apollo. “Upon second reflection, perhaps a brief respite is in order?”
—
“Good boy,” Apollo teases, sitting down next to him in the ground. He pulls out some water and offers it to his traveling companion. “No need to be in a hurry after all that.”
They sit in quiet for a few moments before Apollo decides the subject has to be broached. “Valoren, your aether…did transforming affect it?”
“No…” Valoren says, trailing off pointedly. He wants to leave the sentence there, but he finds he cannot. With a sigh, he continues. “I have… an aether deficiency. Even on a good day, I’ve less aether in my entire body than you likely have in your pinky finger. ‘Tis why I was so inept at adventuring and combat, despite being theoretically suitable for it otherwise.” Gods, why was he explaining this? Stupid rabbit had gotten under his skin.
—
“I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” It was clear by the way he spoke that it was a sore subject for Valoren. Apollo suddenly realizes that despite having quite literally shared a bed with this man, he doesn’t know anything about him at all. “For what it’s worth, I couldn’t tell. You were holding your own just fine back there until I got careless.”
Apollo runs a hand through his hair, hand bumping up against his ears. “It’s not all about aether, you know. I use quite a bit of it now, but I was raised using skill alone.”
—
Valoren draws his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them.
“ ‘Tis no matter. If we’re to be fighting beside one another, you ought to know my limitations, lest they endanger you.” He picks idly at a loose thread on his pants. I should mend that. “And I suppose. But when the people training you have allowed their tactics to grow reliant on their own surplus of aether, and your fellow pupil is able to meet and surpass their immense expectations…”
He snaps off the thread.
“It gets to you.”