(no subject)

[judging_you]

♥ Who: Gabranth and whoever happens
♥ Where: Various places are the city
♥ When: Now (Jan. 10th)
♥ What: Gabranth arrives and is somewhat less than thrilled
♥ Rating: Probably not more than PG for now?

{Arrival}

[Of all the things Gabranth might have expected after his near-disgrace at the top of the Pharos, waking to find himself someplace completely alien was not one of them. Enough so that he can scarcely believe what he's hearing, much less figure out what to make of the various beings that are actually doing the explaining. He doesn't care to ask, though, instead offering nods and largely non-committal noises when it seems relatively appropriate to do so. And when he is finally released out into a city that is no more familiar than anything else has been, does he do the sensible thing and ask for help?

He does not. Instead, he stands blinking in the sunlight for a long moment, confusion plain on his face, before he simply picks a direction and heads in that direction. Sooner or later, he'll come across something (or someone) more interesting.]


{Buddy system}

[And sooner or later, he does. It's simply that, rather than some point of interest or something familiar, it's another of those all-too-helpful robots (not that he knows that's what they are) come to the rescue of someone still new and confused. It's just that in this case, the help comes in the form of pushing him in the direction of whoever happens to be nearby with a helpful little comment about how it's 'dangerous to go alone'!

The push, in itself, is not hard. But as sore as Gabranth is, he still stumbles a little, armor clattering, before he manages to pull himself short of actually running into whoever he's been pushed towards.]

Forgive me. I had not intended....

[His voice trails off there with a shake of his head, but presumably he means to apologize for nearly stumbling into whoever he's just been pushed towards.]

{Exploring}

[Most people, when finding themselves stiff and sore from battle and then dropped into an unfamiliar city, might take a moment to rest. Not so Gabranth, who has ever been too stubborn by half. Instead he takes to the streets with an almost reckless defiance of his injuries. He is not dead, and the sooner he makes sense of his surroundings the better.

(Habits of having served the 9th as long as he has, perhaps, though the situation itself might be different to most else.)

He's already visibly limping by the time he makes it out of the housing districts and starts making towards other districts, face set in grim determination as he continues on. And then, the inevitable happens. A slip of the foot, perhaps, or an uneven patch along the path, or maybe simply a twinge from the injuries he's ignoring and he drops heavily to one knee with a wince. A pause follows, and then... with a hiss of pain - and visible efort - he gets back up to his feet, and takes another handful of limping steps forward.


...Someone might want to try to convince him to sit down, if only so he doesn't end up falling flat on his face.]

Comments

arrival;

[nalbina]

( it has been a while since he's found himself checking in on diacht's temple to see if there are any new arrivals — since his own, he's gotten a bit of a feel for when they have a tendency to show up — and even though he hasn't been here nearly as long as some others he's interacted with, he still likes to think he's been here long enough to be of some assistance, should there be need of any.

it would figure, though, that the first time he thinks to check after a stretch of not doing so that he would find himself face to face ( literally ) with the one person he would have never expected to show up.

he's come to understand that time moves strangely here, or maybe just with those this place brings in but he stops dead in his stride when he notices familiar armor. a familiar face without a helmet to cover it, and he thinks of the one that had found its way to him not long before, since repaired and placed safely on a high shelf in the main room of the empty space he'd chosen for himself.

he stands stock-still for a handful of minutes, maybe a little more than that, blinking several times in quick succession like that might do something to clear his vision. like the man standing not too far away from him is nothing but a hallucination. )

… Noah?

( is it you? could it really be you? )

[judging_you]

[No matter how much he blinks, his brother still remains. Still stands, though he seems to have, for the time being, not noticed Basch's presence. (If Basch thinks to look closely, he might spot the signs of battle, on that all too familiar armor; dents and scrapes left by pole and sword alike. Though which battle has left those signs is another question entirely, especially without Gabranth's helm to serve as suggestion.)

It isn't until Basch speaks that he turns, and without his helm to hide his face the way it shifts from brief surprise to annoyance to something very near to anger is all too visible. Not to mention telling, besides, given what Basch recalls. Though there may be no denying that this is his brother, whatever peace Basch recalls them forging is not here.

(There is, too, a stiffness to him as he turns. One that matches to the state of his armor; while he is not - yet - limping, it's suggestion enough that he has come from a time when his death draws near for all that he is yet unaware of it.)]

Must I tell you again? That is no longer my name.

[There's an edge of anger to the words. Of frustration; at needing to remind Basch of it just as much as it is at being in a strange city at all. A city that - apparently - has sought to remind him of his failures. Of what he is not, and though he has not yet come to blows over any of it, it's still all but second nature to vent his frustrations into anger. To redirect them outward, as he always has. And if Basch is neither willing nor ready to bear the weight of it... that is not entirely Gabranth's concern.]

[nalbina]

( it doesn't take much to notice the scrapes, the dents in the other's armor but it's still not the same as when he'd last seen him, and once he thinks to recall the conversation he'd had with honerva shortly after his arrival about how time flows differently here, or how it seems to work differently here, he'll start drawing his own conclusions about how this is even possible at all.

his brother, alive, though looking a little bit worse for the wear. to say the very least, he'll take it over the scene that had played out when they'd last spoken. he didn't think he would ever have a chance to continue to try to close the ragged gap of distance between them, and if you think for a moment that isn't what he'll ultimately try to do here, you don't know him at all.

the anger in his voice is just as he remembers it, though. his last words had been missing it entirely, and looking at him now only makes something ache, twist in the center of his chest.

your words put me at ease, brother. sorry to leave you. ) That was not— ( he pauses, shakes his head. ) No, never mind. I just thought … ( i thought i was looking at a ghost.

it stands to reason, though, that there are always going to be some parts of his past that haunt him, doesn't it? ) No matter. I take it you've just arrived? ( that's good, very good, start out small and work up to something more.

time to walk on eggshells for the foreseeable future. )

[judging_you]

[That Basch might seek to close the distance that has grown between them is no surprise.  Not when he has been singularly unmoved by any of the accusations that Gabranth has laid at his feet.  Kingslayer, traitor, hound... none of them have seemed to so much as make a dent in his brother's outward demeanor.  Not enough to matter, not as much as he's wanted, and it's that which has proved the most frustrating.  That his fortunes have seemed ever to fall, while the same is not true of Basch, as far as he has been able to tell.

He says nothing of this, of course.  If Basch has guessed then so be it, but if not it's scarcely worth the effort of doing so.

(It is not a surprise, either, that each of his accusations has been met with nothing more than a stubborn refusal to let the words matter.  After all, how often has he himself done the same?)

Still, there's a brief moment of satisfaction at Basch's momentary confusion; at the way he starts and stops for a moment before settling on the right words.  He does not - cannot - know the reasoning behind it, but it's still a welcome reminder that he can still force some measure of reaction. Even despite the strangeness of the situation he has just recently found himself in.]

Would you have not known, were it otherwise?

[Which is to say, yes, he has. And while the general air of frustration hasn't left his voice, quite, it's... lesser. Present, but restrained, if only for the moment.]

Exploring!

[iustaegis]

[ If only she had turned the corner sooner, perhaps she would have been able to go to him as soon as he had stumbled. He would have found himself supported, a palm going to the center of his breastplate to break a potential further fall and another hand lifting to his arm. But she’s too late, and he’s already collapsed down on one knee. By stubbornness alone he appears to bring himself upright and continue. All of this, done by someone she recognizes.

Sharp concern strengthens her voice as she rushes over, eyes wide with worry. Why he’s wearing such heavy armor, why he seems injured, she doesn’t know, but— ] Basch, what happened...

[ —She’s doing what she couldn’t do moments before, picking up an arm of his and draping it over her shoulder to support him as a crutch, another arm going to his back to stabilize. Her own strength is hidden within her slender frame; his weight and the bulk of his armor is nothing.

Pyra turns her head to look at him, first with worry, and then with... confusion, as her gaze lift to his brow but spot no scar. While her support doesn’t fail, the strength in her voice does. She whispers, ]

Ah, you’re not...

[ Different hair style, too, and less... rugged. This isn’t Basch. Or, perhaps it’s a younger version of himself? It’s happened before in this realm as an enchantment of the gods. Regardless, he needs help.

She looks forward, nodding her head. ] There— a bench. Let’s sit you down.

[judging_you]

Basch is not here.

[He means, of course, that Basch isn't standing right there; that he is not the man she takes him to be. After all, he has met Basch. Has had something approaching a conversation with him, even. But he is sore - aching, rather - and between the lingering frustration of his conversation with Basch and the newer frustration of having been called the wrong name he doesn't think to offer clarification.

It rankles, too, to be offered assistance. He is fine, or so he has told himself (and no doubt would have continued to do so besides). And all the worse still for the fact that she's a stranger besides; while he doesn't pull entirely away, he does so enough that it's clear he would rather walk under his own power than accept any sort of assistance. Nor does he directly address her murmured comment about him not being Basch. There is no need to, when as far as he's concerned his previous comment covers that as well.

(He does not offer his name. She has not asked, and at the moment he's not much in the mood for social pleasantries, nor one to try and insist on his rank.)

Instead, he grudgingly allows himself to be led to the bench, and after a brief moment, does actually sit, though the scowl on his face goes absolutely nowhere. It's only a moment later that he thinks to speak again, returning - if briefly - to the question of what happened.]

And this will heal.

[iustaegis]

[ When he makes it obvious that he does not wish for further assistance to walk, she steps back and lets him, but watches him closely for another stumble, as they make their way over to the bench. Surely a man this injured cannot last long is such heavy armor. That, or there's something quite inhuman about him, perhaps his stubbornness itself.

Her now free hand goes to her chest worriedly, and she takes a seat beside him, trying not to fuss about him, but wanting to help. ] Then... This.

[ In her hands, under a flash of crystalline blue-- neither a power nor ether of her own-- a small flask appears. With both hands, she offers it to him. ] I promise, it will ease some of your aches.

[ While she's never had to use it herself, but she has it on good authority that it helps quite a bit. At the very least, he deserves some sort of respite upon a bench, if not the strength to carry on to wander again on his own. ]

[judging_you]

[For a mercy, perhaps, he does not stumble again. He's still limping, certainly, before he makes it to the bench proper, but whatever had caused him stumble before does not do so again. And once he is sitting, he doesn't seem to be much worse than annoyed - and likely still sore, given the stiffness with which he's sitting. But it's still rest, and will - with any luck - still help.

(As for the armor, that he is used to, and has been for sometime. Enough so that the weight of it doesn't bother him.)

Her offer, meanwhile, earns a huff of annoyance.]

They are of little enough concern.

[Still, he does take the potion, almost absentmindedly. As if he's used to being handed them, from time to time. And while he makes no direct attempt to use it, neither is he rejecting it out of hand.]

buddy system ( because you know i had to );

[classed]

( operation aggressively friend the grumpy old man is go!

as far as he's been concerned since his own arrival, 'it's dangerous to go alone' hasn't been as much of a thing as it had been made out to be; sure, okay, there was the whole sleepwalking thing and falling out of trees and ending up in stranger's beds, but he's really ( really ) hoping that that had been a one ( two ) time thing, and whatever danger they're supposed to be looking out for comes in some other form.

like monsters, or something. those, he can handle. has handled on a pretty frequent basis before now. but that's neither here nor there.

he'd already gotten a hand out to steady the man stumbling toward him, because buddy, do you look a bit on the rough side. he offers a smile, though, a shake of his head and a wave of his hand. ) S'no big deal, don't worry about it. You okay? ( because. yeah. 'on the rough side' might be putting it a bit mildly.

he's being nice about it. )

[judging_you]

[It's definitely putting it mildly. Especially given the state of his armor, should Zack think to pay attention to such things. But that aside, he does appreciate the lack of any particularly direct concern on Zack's end. Or at least, not any sort of concern that he can't generally assume to be anything more than what one would naturally offer a stranger.]

It's nothing I cannot handle.

[This is. Not a "no," exactly. But it's not a yes, either.]

[classed]

( ah, but sir, the fact that he's only asked if you're okay in a seemingly passive way does not in any way, shape or form imply that that's the end of it. he's the type of dude to show all kinds of concern for strangers — in passing or not — and he's just getting started.

he's also not so dense that he doesn't take the answer for what it is — which is something along the lines of not a real answer at all. he shakes his head. ) Sounds like something somebody would say when they don't wanna bother anybody.

( honestly, it sounds a whole heck of a lot like something sephiroth would say. )

Your armor's pretty banged up … ( helpful observations from one ( 1 ) zack fair. you're welcome! )

[judging_you]

[The assumption that he might not want to bother anyone is not entirely incorrect. Admittedly, there are other parts to it as well, but as working theories go, it's certainly not the worst either. There's no direct answer to the comment, though. Merely a noncommittal grunt (which in itself might be telling.)

Fortunately, he is not obligated to find any further answer, given that Zack moves immediately on to a topic that is significantly easier to answer.]

You would expect else, after battle?

[Normally, he would have seen to its upkeep, afterwards. But given how recently said battle has been (and how recently he has arrived) he has yet to find the time to do so.]

Buddy System

[ancientflower]

Oh, hello there!

[The stumbling man almost fell into Aerith, but she held up her hands and caught them upon his chest before he went ahead and bowled her over. Her hands dropped and her head tilted a little, a gentle smile curved her lips.

Her gaze shifted to the robot for a moment before returning to the man in front of her.]

Nothing to forgive. Are you alright? You seem... [How did she say this delicately?] Umm... unsteady?

[judging_you]

[Unsteady is one word for it, certainly. Perhaps not one he would have chosen to describe his condition, had he his choice. But it's not entirely inaccurate either, for all that he might not directly admit to such.]

Well enough.

[Sore, yes. And bruised besides, if not more. But it's not (much) more than he would expect out of a battle, and given time enough it will heal.]

It was merely... a surprise.

[To find himself being shoved at someone, that is.]

[ancientflower]

They can be like that.

[She agreed with a sympathetic smile.

Aerith reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm, careful as she wasn't too sure just which parts where sore and which were actually hurt.

And then she considered her options.]

Hmm, I think we need to find you somewhere to sit. There's a little cafe not far, it's warm and sells really nice drinks! I'll treat you, if you think you can walk there? [She smiled brightly.] You can lean on me if you like? I'm tougher than I look! [She lifed an arm and flexed the non-existent muscles]

[judging_you]

[The question of where he's actually hurt, as opposed to just sore, is something he's not likely to mention. Not without being directly asked, anyway, and even then it might not be something that comes easily. Still, he doesn't flinch away at her touch, which at least suggests that he's not so hurt as to find that much uncomfortable.

(That or he's used to ignoring his own discomfort, which - in fairness - he is.)]

I can yet stand.

[It's halfway to a grumble, and there is definitely some annoyance in his voice besides. But he's not entirely dismissing the suggestion outright, even if he might take until he speaks again to make it completely clear.]

But should you insist, I will follow.

[And truth be told, neither will he object to having a moment to sit, for all that he wouldn't have asked for same.]

Exploring

[shroudedsecrets]

[ Luckily enough, his wandering to a new district puts him not far from Affurgato, a cozy establishment, perhaps moreso by the inclement weather about.

Honerva is usually inside instead of outside when the cafe is open, though she now has more reason to check that the walkways are cleared or not potentially icy...

... But there is someone stumbling around, is there? Familiar, too, somehow, as though she'd already led someone with his build in from the cold before. ]

Perhaps I can interest you in stepping inside?

[judging_you]

[Familiar indeed, for all that Gabranth isn't aware of who his brother might have spoken to, much less who he might be reasonably familiar with. He hadn't cared to ask, and doesn't much care to do so now either. Not least of all because it would involve actually reaching out, and though he has been given what he assumes to be some manner of communications device neither has he cared to do much with it.

Still, the sound of her voice is enough to have him pause, for a moment. To consider, as if he's not standing out in the cold in naught but his armor and still aching from the recent battle besides.]

Perhaps.

[There's a half-nod along with that single word though, and for that he is still limping as he does so, he turns as if to head for the cafe. Ice or no, it shouldn't be too difficult for him to make it there under his own power.]

[shroudedsecrets]

[ She knows the use of that word quite well, and the cautiousness it represents; wary, but potentially not unwilling, given his turn to the building. So much to be guessed, in a single word.

His voice also confirms the familiarity she'd felt, her ears shifting a bit, though his lack of recognition toward her certainly indicated... well, that perhaps he was not whom he had initially appeared to be. She well knew her way around twins and other kinds of doubles to know it for possibility. Still, it was curious enough; his limp particularly obvious as well, but perhaps the caution he exuded was well for a reason. ]

... If you have no issues being around cats, of course. It is certainly much warmer inside, with potential for meal or drink.

[judging_you]

[The limp, at least, is nothing more than the result of him making some fairly ill-advised decisions while still injured from his recent battle. Inconvenient, yes, especially in the short term, but nothing that won't heal, in time.]

I do not.

[He has not spent a great deal of time around cats, perhaps. But neither does he have any issue with them.]

And... I would not object to being somewhere warmer.

[He has been managing, certainly. But armor isn't exactly the warmest thing to be wearing, especially when he hadn't been expecting to find himself dropped into somewhere in the grips of winter, as best he can judge.]

exploring

[lunaelucem]

[It's starting to get colder out, and yet Lunafreya is still making trips to the outdoor cafes. She finds the storytelling and poetry recited by the locals too soothing and pleasant a pastime to let the weather deter her, but she certainly needs to bundle up if she wants to stay longer than half an hour.

The current speaker is just about to wrap up, it seems, and Lunafreya is mulling over if she should buy another winter coat before heading back home. That's when she sees him out of the corner of her eye— by the Six! Limping as if he'd just come back from a fight. What in the world happened? In no time at all, she's out of her chair and on her way over, her hand already glowing white-gold with healing power as she touches his armored shoulder. In a soft voice, so that she doesn't interrupt the speaker, she murmurs:]

Basch, stop. You'll only aggravate your injuries. Give me a moment to ease the pain.

[judging_you]

[A battle is about right, to be perfectly honest.  Not one that has occurred within the bounds of the city itself, perhaps.  But a battle nonetheless.  And one that his armor yet bears the scars of, should she think to look there instead of to his injuries.  Still, if nothing else, he does recognize the faint glow of power gathering around her hand.  It is certainly not precisely the color he expects healing magic to be, but it is undeniably magic of some sort - though he does still at her touch it's almost as much concern as it is a desire to not be outright rude.

The concern lasts exactly as long as it takes for her to get through her explanation of what she's doing, irritation and his usual anger flooding in to fill the empty space.]

Basch is elsewhere.

[His voice still sounds like Basch's though. There's more anger in it than might typically be in Basch's, perhaps, but other than that it's not dissimilar.

(That he will aggravate his injuries he does not - cannot - argue. While he may not have much cared to tend to them, he'd hardly been unaware of the potential consequences to his actions.)]

[lunaelucem]

[Her eyes flicker up to his face upon hearing the anger in his words, the small curve of a frown betraying her surprise. Lunafreya dips her head in quiet contrition.]

I see. Please forgive my mistake.

[Her magic, however, still goes strong, unwavering in the face of this knowledge and the steel of his words. Anger hasn't been a deterrent for her work in many a year. Not all in Eos wanted to be cured of Starscourge, after all, too deep in their hate and resentment to accept an Oracle's blessing, frustrated by temporary solutions and soul-deep pain. But so long as she was given permission to heal someone, she would— no matter their personal feelings. Because that was and is her duty as an Oracle. She cannot turn a blind eye to people's suffering.

The same applies here. She won't stop unless he pulls away, continuing to draw from that well of gentle light within her, guiding it into the man in front of her, folding it over the searing aches and pain she can sense underneath his armor.]

Please wait a moment longer. I'm nearly done.

exploring

[astralera]

The someone that decides to try convincing the blatantly injured man to sit down so as not to fall flat on his face just so happens to be a crimson Carbuncle emitting a comforting aura of warmth.

It makes a very persuasive argument by simply body checking the man in such a way that he's forced to fall over, and then promptly sits on him.

[judging_you]

While there are any of a number of strange creatures across Ivalice, the simple sight of Carbuncle has him pausing. Though it is very clearly magickal in nature (the aura of warmth emanating from it is enough to prove that) but it is no esper. No, at best it looks like a very strange version of the rabbits that were sometime to be found on the Giza plains.

It's enough to have him pause, for just a moment, as he considers the creature... and that moment is his undoing, as the creature body checks him. There's a muffled swear, as he reaches for his swords (too late, the attack has already come), and then down he goes in a clatter of armor. Only to be promptly sat upon, as if to add insult to injury, and it does absolutely nothing for his mood.

And thus it is that he will be found, when someone thinks to look, glaring daggers at the creature as if this will, somehow, alter his plight.