what you're given, what you live in

[fatedfinality]

Darling, it finds a way to live in you

Who: Ardyn & You
What: A catch-all log for Ardyn and the various shit he's bound to get up to outside of events (so: quests, misc. interactions, etc.)
Where: All around Town
When: The last months of 2024

Warnings: Blanket warnings for suicidal ideation, self-harm tendencies, alcoholism, and others that will be specific to the threads and noted in the subject line!

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Comments

[fatedfinality]

"I think the fire's contagion is probably something we should prevent," he admits begrudgingly. "We won't be lauded as heroic if we let it spread too far and endanger Town any." Ardyn knows how fast fire can grow out of control; it was, for so long, his domain to command with Ifrit and while he loved to watch the flames flicker and grow... There's a time and a place. Right now, right here- But not anywhere else that they can spare for now.

As the pent-up aggression and desire to destroy is bled out of him, that inky miasma does gradually recede. He still has some to wipe away on his face once attention is drawn to it. "Oh, this?" he questions, looking at the substance smeared on his hands before its absorbed back into his skin. "Just an old affliction," he supplies, casually misleading. "Nothing for you to worry about." At least, not here. He'd already tried to infect a person or two to see- All that happened was a regular bought of sickness instead of fatally turning into a monstrosity by Ardyn's hand. Strange, but likely for the best. If he could spread The Scourge like back home, well... Best not to consider that hypothetical.

He picks up the squirming bandit and tosses him over his cloaked shoulder like he weighs nothing at all. While weakened, he's still stronger than the average man. "We can drop this fellow off somewhere inconspicuous for later before turning in our success story to the quest master," he offers. He doubts that they'll be rewarded if it's known they're keeping one to torture for more information. That can just be their little bonus. Ardyn's, mostly, but details!

[miniroth]

Are ANY of them fireproof? "Then steer clear of the flames. Fur likely smells as bad burning as hair does."

There's a fair amount of that. If there were living but wounded bandits amongst the slaughter, they wouldn't be for long. There's probably a lot he should be questioning further here. He doesn't, he just nods as if Ardyn's explanation is sufficient.

Curiosity isn't part of his job.

"If we are not all needed for reporting the bandits dealt with, I'll remain here to make certain the camp is unusable again and the fire doesn't spread." He set it, after all, it's only sensible he clean up his mess.

[whitewolfsbane]

Death is not concerned with the well-being of their hostage, unfortunately for that bandit. The wolf only smiles. "Allow me to make sure we all get our reward," he says. "Separating now will let us wrap our business up faster that way."

And perhaps through feeling fond about a job well done together, he reaches over with an attempt to ruffle Sephiroth's hair. Death won't be too concerned if the boy dodges the attempt, since it could be brushed aside as a playful gesture.

"Excellent work."

[fatedfinality]

"It's appreciated," Ardyn offers, sincere in his own way.

And well- Isn't that sweet? He does think too that Sephiroth did a good job; the boy wasn't lying about being an efficient killer. Meanwhile, Ardyn and Death definitely filled the 'style' quota. It's quite nice to have found unexpected camaraderie in violently clearing out bandits. Since no one seems objecting to his 'souvenir,' he'll gladly handle all that extra nasty business himself.

"And until we meet again! While I'm sure these bandits have learned, who knows what being able to venture to new places may bring." More murder, hopefully! "If nothing else, I know who to call on for dealing with troublesome pests like these."

[miniroth]

Sephiroth does not like being touched. Adamantly. Sixteen years of touch always coming shortly later with a needle or scalpel has left certain apprehensions about it. But the lab has also taught him not to react violently on impulse when someone does, and he knows there's no real danger in a hair ruffle. It doesn't prevent him from grumbling as his hair is all ruffled up, or taking a minute to try to reorganize it afterward.

"..Please try to make sure our messenger does eventually get to deliver a message," is the only thing he adds, before turning back to the by now comfortably roaring fire. It'll keep him busy a while, making sure it doesn't spread to the surroundings.

A nice way to stay warm on an autumn evening, all told. A task accomplished, good achieved.