spira_rp | The lines are blurred, you keep rubbing your eyes.

The lines are blurred, you keep rubbing your eyes.

Duscae was one of the more pleasant regions that the Kingdom of Lucis controlled. Or, at least, "controlled".

Politically, Lucis was a reasonably large Kingdom. Its territory stretched from the east coast of the northern portion of Eos all the way to the desert in the West and was divided from the neighbouring country of Niflheim, now a self-styled 'Empire', by only a skysea inlet and a small land bridge in the sand. It was comprised of different biomes, with dry eastern scrub transitioning into plains, wet fenland and reasonably temperate forests in the valleys of Duscae and Cleigne. Cleigne also included, nominally, the lands that used to be the independent Kingdom of Glenys, but that one, with its self-governing exception and distant capital, was definitely a political inclusion more than a territorial one.

Realistically, Lucis was just the City of Insomnia. Outside the Walls of the Crown City, there was a general feeling of alienation and Othering from the people within, a separatist mindset that meant that those from inside the walls considered those from outside of it to be Foreign, in spite of the Kingdom's borders and the nationality of all from the north to the Skysea being, ostensibly, 'Lucian'. This wasn't helped by the fact that the majority of the Kingdom outside the walls was empty. There were a few settlements, the main ones being Lestallum, Balterossa and Galdin Quay, but for the most part, outposts and service stations aside, it was uninhabited except by farmers and ranchers.

Governing it was considered unimportant to the short-sighted ruling Class who never passed through the city walls and they all operated independently, either officially as with Balterossa, or effectively, like the others.

It was no surprise, though. A periodic, unpleasant phenomenon that caused an uptick in the number of Daemons had plagued the Kingdom for centuries, and the uninhabited land that came to be the Kingdom for centuries before that. It seemed to be a focal point and that made living outside the protective, probably magically enhanced walls dangerous. Attempts had been mounted, mistakes had been made and now the countryside, fen or forest or plain or scrub, was littered with the bones of towns and villages, all abandoned, all empty and most ruined or well on their way to it.

Levi didn't mind it. He liked the empty country. The Daemons were an issue, but they tended against coming out in the sunlight. As such, days were a risk only by dint of the local wildlife, larger and more aggressive than that of countries with similar emptiness due entirely to its empty period between the Solheim days and those of Lucis.

The nights... they were different.

All over Spira, both Ivalice and the floating continents, Daemons roamed the night, preying on people too weak to fend them off, or each other in the absence of their preferred food. They weren't too common in civilised lands, with only small fry appearing near population centers on account of the measures put in place to keep even the small numbers down. In the more remote spots, where people had died away from others, unable to be Sent and with regrets or anger tethering them to the Seen world, or the Daemons had moved to escape those who hunted them, they grew bigger and more ferocious, able to take more punishment in a fight and deal more accordingly. Unless they strayed across people and caused a problem, they were largely ignored.

In Lucis, they retreated to the old ruins, those that opened only at night, and infested them. Then they emerged when the sun dipped below the horizon to hunt. Elsewhere they could be rooted out in the daytime, when they were at their weakest, by organisations dedicated to the killing of them, but Lucis's interesting local history kept them safely sequestered during the day and their anti-Daemon force had nothing on those of other countries. It made for a strange situation and took away the single advantage hunters had during the day. The Daemons had no such disadvantage during the night, they could roam freely and had, at various points, ruined the chances of colonisation.

These days, there were wards that could keep Daemons away from ranches and service stations, bright lights that could be affixed to poles near the edges of the grounds to keep them away and keep those in the houses safe, but that didn't help Hunters. Hunters and, by extension, the Kingsglaive, only had their wits to keep them alive.

Well, their wits and Havens.

Havens were their single lifeline. Not quite the fortresses the Daemons had in the Solheim ruins, they nonetheless provided small bubbles of protection on rocky outcrops marked with symbols, the meanings of which had been long forgotten, the composition of the paint unknown.

Levi supposed that books existed somewhere, in some library or repository of tedious information, that gave names to them and their meanings, but he didn't give enough of a shit to go looking. As far as he was concerned, they gave the Glaives and Hunters somewhere to bed down if they needed to, allowed them to keep watch and take a break from putting their lives on the line to protect the pricks who were already safe behind the walls of Insomnia.

He could see why the Pulse party had been given the wider Kingdom of Lucis for their training. The land had been abandoned for centuries before the Lucians landed there and had then been ignored for centuries more. Other places, though wild, had been visited or inhabited at some point, or left as real areas of wilderness, unplagued by Mist except after the relatively brief Saturation that had covered the world after some war or other.

The only other landmass apart from Lucis that had been treated in a similar way was, undoubtedly, Pulse. Unless Levi just didn't know about another one that was the sort of monster-filled, Daemon-ravaged spiritual shitshow that Lucis was, at least.

It was the only logical location for their training to take place, the only approximation of their destination, not that they could know for sure. Somebody had mentioned the Wildlands, but somebody else had poo-pooed that comparison with superior experience, or so it seemed. Levi hadn't paid that much attention to the bickering of his charges. It helped, of course, that Lucis owned the land the training was taking place on, were funding the mission they were training for and had expendable Daemon killers with criminal records to try and keep the similarly expendable foreigners alive.

Levi didn't like some of them, but the majority were all right. Most had come with skills that helped and were just expanding their skillsets, others ... were a liability.

Still, a good number, liabilities or not, were equipped with Zanpakuto. They were apparently the best weapons against Daemons, equal to Innocence, and outstripped Levi's own weapons considerably. They were, from what he understood, magical bullshit soul-blades, uniquely specialised in cutting through the ridiculously hard Daemon skin.

He, conversely, had a sword that had been forged with magic. It was an old technique, and some families had ancient exampled each imbued with a different element, but these were relatively mass-produced, included small amounts of Holy magic and, while they cut through the Daemons and allowed them to do their job, weren't a patch on the historical blades or, of course, Zanpakuto.

They could do some of the heavy lifting.

They were camped in Duscae, in the camp that would be their home for the next week or so, and were in a reasonably comfortable Haven thirty or so miles away from the Wiz Chocobo Ranch. The air wasn't too humid, the temperature was neither too hot nor freezing cold and the levels of Mist were good enough to bring the risk of Daemons, but not the certainty of them. That the local wildlife was big and edible helped.

"So, today... some of you are going to go hunting," Levi said. "Who's shit at it?"

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Szayel watched Ignis's display of gymnastics and didn't bother to refrain from rolling his eyes. It was very flashy, almost certainly learned in training and not fighting actual enemies, and a completely unnecessary display of athleticism.

The garula staggered sideways, driven away by the force of Ignis's blow, and crashed to the floor with the heavy thud of finality. It cried pitifully, not that such things worked on Szayel.

"You fight like you cook," he said, giving Ignis a sour look. Then he gestured to the ailing garula with the point of his sword, his wrist limp, as if he was pointing out some trash someone had dropped in his laboratory, "Are you going to finish that?"

Ienzo eyed Szayel and couldn't resist rolling his eyes at him being nitpicky about the one currently doing all the work.

He wondered if Szayel had hoped to stand by, the useless effeminate scientist, all the while hoping they'd struggle too much, like the bad of mages they are, so he could step in and save the day. Well, that hadn't gone to plan, had it?

"Mmmn," Even agreed. Not even snakes, crawling, venomous creatures as they were, deserved to be compared to Szayel. "With any luck he might die."

It would certainly cut out a considerably portion of their future annoyance if Szayel was left in Alstor Slough for the mud to claim him.

"Whichever one of you do it, get it over with," he said.

Ignis fit Szayel with a deadpan stare. Ordinarily, he'd have taken being told that he fights like he cooks as a compliment, but out of Szayel's mouth he knew it wasn't intended as one.

"By all means," he said, gesturing to the felled animal, "feel free to do something of use."

He swapped Malystrix for his daggers, depositing one and retrieving the other from the armiger in a single fluid motion. They'd need to field dress the carcass before they returned with it, and a spear wasn't going to be helpful for that.

Szayel scowled, his attention flitting between Ignis and Even. Useful? While Ignis had been flashing his gymnastic abilities, Szayel had actually attacked the creature. Meanwhile Ienzo had stood around watching, and Even and Aerith had cowered behind his shield.

He stomped over to the garula, wasting no time in sinking his sword in to its gut, up towards the heart. The garula gave one final gasp, and Szayel dragged his blade along its abdomen in one smooth motion. Viscera spilled out around his feet, pooling in the mud.

"It could do with being chilled," he said, "until we've finished field dressing it."

Aerith cringed at the pained noises from the creature. It was, horribly, almost a relief when Szayel finally finished it. She felt the moment it passed, life fleeing from the body.

Then Szayel ripped its belly open and she hid behind Even from the sight. Her hand landed against the back of his shoulder, fingers curling into the material as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Not seeing it didn't stop her from hearing it though. The soft squelching and slither of the animals insides spilling out rang in her ears.

"A little warning next time," she complained, still with her eyes tightly closed.

Even's nose wrinkled as Szayel finished the creature off, not relishing the noise of the organs squelching wetly onto the ground beneath it. It was unpleasant and he sort of hoped he hadn't damaged any organs on the way through. That would have a very negative effect on the meat. Blech.

He felt Aerith's hand on him and dismissed his shield. "It's lucky you're an Ice subtype then," Even said sharply, addressing Szayel.

He turned to Aerith once her grip loosened, feeling a little sympathetic. She wasn't one to relish a fight or the killing of an animal, not even for food.

"You won't need to be present for another hunting excursion," he said, quietly, to keep Szayel out of it.

Ienzo brought his hands together again and send flat-topped spires of rock up underneath the creature, bringing it up to a comfortable height for it to be worked on without it being in the mud and without either Szayel or Ignis kneeling or bending to do so.

Edited 2020-05-03 14:25 (UTC)

Ignis observed Szayel gutting the creature impassively. He hadn't worked with an entire fresh kill before, but it seemed ridiculous to be squeamish about gore if one was intent on eating meat. Still, he wasn't about to hold Aerith's more delicate sensibilities against her either. Some people just weren't natural hunters.

He turned towards Ienzo when the garula's body was raised up to a more comfortable working level. "Much obliged," he said.

"Szayel, if you could remove the head," he instructed, "I'll finish the cleaning." They'd want to get the guts out completely. That meant he'd have to reach inside.

He kept one dagger in hand while he began to shrug his jacket off.

Aerith shook her head at Even's soothing assurance. "I'm fine," she insisted, "I'm just not used to guts." She gave him an awkward smile. "Fang usually deals with that bit when I'm not looking."

She bit her lip. Fang did the field dressing, and her and Lea and Saix did the actual hunting, and she stood back out of the way and made sure they didn't get too hurt. "Maybe I'm not cut out to be much of a hunter."

Szayel nudged his glasses up his nose. Fornicaras chakra was still swirling through his own, and he didn't shut it down and force the mask away yet.

"I may be an ice subtype," right now at least, "but I'm not a mage." And he certainly wasn't one with Even's reputation for a supernatural degree of control over the element.

He especially didn't have that sort of control over the ice. The ice came from Fornicaras, who wasn't a natural collaborator at the best of times.

He huffed at Ignis, too. "Since when do you give orders?"

"With our full group," he said, looking down at her. "You don't need to be."

There were enough fight-happy big game hunters in the group going to Pulse to take out a herd of these things without Aerith needing to go near to one that was uncooked. She'd done her bit by volunteering for something she was uncomfortable with, but when all was said and done, none of those present would need to hunt at any point, unless disaster befell them all.

With her all right, in spite of her understandable squeamishness, Even turned back to the two at the carcass and walked over. The smell was offensive. The heavy coppery stench of blood, the unmistakable stink of large herbivore and, it had to be said, the pervading odour of its half-digested last meal were enough to make Even very unhappy about being in close proximity to it.

"Since it's his people funding the mission that this training is for," Even said.

She didn't have to be a hunter, but Aerith also didn't want to be a burden that other people had to look after. Still, Even spoke with such confidence on the matter that it was hard not to be won over.

She wrinkled her nose one last time at the carcass they were intent on dismembering. Maybe that part just reminded her too much of things she'd rather forget. She wasn't about to admit that to Even, however. Not here and now. Not where Szayel could hear, anyway.

Aerith turned her back on the scene, and made her way over towards Ienzo. At least he was staying out of range of the smell.

"Masterfully summarised," Ignis commented, folding his jacket and placing it out of the way of the gore before he turned to rolling his sleeves up, too.

"Now, the quicker we do this, the quicker we can return and cease to get on each other's last nerve. What do you say?"

Szayel rolled his eyes. Unlike some, he wasn't here for the money. He wasn't even really here because Aizen wanted him here, either, although that was a small part of it. Szayel had to go and make sure the other Arrancar didn't have their secrets spilled to other medics in the event that idiots like Grimmjow went and got themselves damaged. Nel could only do so much.

Of course, there was the allure of an uninhabited continent and the samples that might exist there. The fauna would be untempered by hyur hands, and potentially heavily mutated through generations of Mist exposure. It was an intriguing research prospect.

"I'm a scientist," he replied, "I don't care about money." If he did, he'd be working with Yylfordt and installing automail in the Archadian Empire's injured and valuable. There were so many old, rich people in Archades that would pay a small fortune for new knees, or hips, or shoulders. Cosmetic work too would have been lucrative. An implant here, a trim of sagging skin there. Easy work, easy money.

Instead he'd followed the path of discovery.

A path he'd have happily continued to follow in the Palace were it not for the presence of that person, and that was a train of thought he didn't want to follow to its distressing conclusion.

"I simply want to study whatever might be living on Pulse," he said, giving his sword's blade a cursory examination. It was going to need cleaning. "And you're going to have to take me whether you like it or not."

"It doesn't matter what your motivations are," Even said, getting close enough to put his hand on the animal.

He kept his reiatsu low, but pushed it just enough to bring down the temperature of the thing without freezing it. Freezing was a risk with meat. On the one hand, it tenderised it, the ice crystals pushing the cells apart. On the other, it could also affect the texture negatively. He didn't want to be chewed out by Ignis about it, because he'd have to negatively effect his cells too and he rather liked him, all things considered.

"Whether you're going for the money or the scenery doesn't change the fact that you wouldn't be going at all if it wasn't for Lucis, so stop whining."

"Let's hope we don't have to do this again," Ienzo said quietly, to Aerith.

He didn't like hunting. Ulquiorra tended to do it if they went out and had a need to camp, but even then, they usually hunted dreamhares. They were much less ... horrific than the Garula. Less gore, less blood, fewer entrails. Much less pungent, too.

But a couple of rabbits wouldn't feed a crew the size of the one they had back at camp, nor would it be enough for the party on Pulse.

"Aside from which," Ignis added, moving in once Even had finished his task. The carcass under his fingers was cool, like meat pulled fresh from a refrigerator, in contrast to the gently steaming innards that lay splashed across the ground. Ignis took a moment to blink, impressed.

He pressed on, "This is an expensive and risky venture and no one is going to fund us taking resources there that aren't likely to survive, no matter how unlikable said resources may be." He reached into the chilly guts of the garula. The internal organs were cool and slippery to the touch, but somehow being cold made it more like handling meat and less like gutting an animal. "Ultimately, it will be Levi's report that determines if you join us, not mine." He scooped the insides out, letting the organs slip to the floor in a sloppy heap that he deftly sidestepped as it settled.

Szayel regarded Ignis and Even with a raised eyebrow. Count Scientia didn't get the final say, did he not? The thought made him smirk. Ignis was a snotty little toff, but he had his string pulled and his leash tugged as surely as the Arrancar did, for all he acted above it.

He gripped the garula's tusk in one hand and swung his sword with the other. The blade bit into the flesh, slicing a good way through. He pushed at the tusk, exposing the depth of the wound.

"It'll take more than whatever lies on Pulse to kill me," he answered, smugly. "I'm an Arrancar. Your puny little mind couldn't even begin to understand what I can do." His eye flickered to Even. "Nor could yours. You haven't seen what an Arrancar can truly do."

Aerith gave a muted but adamant nod to Ienzo's statement. "It's not the killing," she agreed, quietly, "it's the bit afterwards." She gave a heavy sigh and resisted the urge to look back over her shoulder. "Although just between you and me, I don't really like the killing part either."

Her eyes fell to Ienzo's gloved hands. He'd shown his automail in the meeting when they'd all first met, and Aerith hadn't paid much heed to his claim then to be able to perform alchemy without drawing a circle. There were plenty of alchemists that did that by having tattoos, or wearing gloves, like Ienzo wore...

But that hadn't been what he'd done.

She wanted to ask, but also didn't want to ask. He seemed nice, if quiet, but to perform alchemy like that he'd done something terribly sad.

Talk of killing, the sadness of it, and a glance at his mismatched hands of flesh and metal told him everything about where Aerith's thoughts had gone. He gave a bit of a smile.

"It isn't what you think," he said, quietly.

To perform Alchemy required a circle. To perform it without one usually needed the Alchemist to have broken one of the Laws of Alchemy; the prohibition on attempting to either create a human or bring one back from the dead. Ienzo hadn't. It had been the gift by whatever had brought them to Spira, to make some aspects of Alchemy instinctive and cut out the need for circles to expedite the process.

Alchemy wasn't a widely known art. People knew others did it, but the sheer amount of study and research involved made it incredibly unpopular. Not everybody that knew about it knew of the rules, but it was never worth making it too obvious what he was capable of, in case they did know.

Aerith seemed like she knew.

"Szayel," Even said, managing against all reason not to roll his eyes, "Posturing with swords and bragging about intellect makes you little better than either Saix and Grimmjow or Professor Hojo, and even you're better than that."

He fixed him with a look, both disdainful and exasperated.

He didn't need to remind him that he had managed to obliterate machinery invented to assess the power levels of Arrancar higher up the roster than Szayel and that he, Even, was hardly the most powerful of them. Not even close.

"Besides, bragging to an unknown quantity, both in terms of scientific expertise and ability, makes you look a fool and it's considered stupid to make enemies when you're going to somewhere remote with people who wouldn't think twice about killing you at the best of times."

He thought of Lumi. Szayel was aggravating beyond reason sometimes and he figured that, in a worst case scenario, he could probably see his way to killing him. It isn't as if anybody would argue with him.

Aerith looked back at Ienzo's eyes. He was young, she realised. He acted so old, so quietly mature, but his face was younger than Lea's.

"To do alchemy like that," she said, quietly, "you must have defied the natural cycle of the planet." Or tried to, anyway. It wasn't actually possible to do it and succeed. It would mean plucking every bit of someone back out of the lifestream, drawing life out of other things to reconstruct them. The toll would be massive.

"So what was it?"

Szayel laughed. It was laughable, it really was. Here he stood, having to prove himself to some royal little peon in order to stay on some uncomfortable trip to strange old lands, and have the likes of Even condescend to him about bragging.

"Maybe you'll get to see my release one day," he said, "you might even be lucky enough to live." He certainly didn't fear Lumi, although he'd be an interesting opponent. The only catch would be that he'd need to release first. Lumi was fast enough to be dangerous, but he was also disciplined enough that Szayel didn't believe he'd make any serious attempt to kill him. The looming figure of Aizen was always there, offering him protection. "But don't fall into the trap of believing that strength is the only thing that matters. Or," he added, looking at his sword again, "that I'm posturing by doing as I'm told for a change."

He swung again, slicing the garula's head completely off. It fell to the ground with a thump. "I want to get out of here as much as you do, before I have to smell of this as well as grime, campfire, and dirt until we get back to civilisation."

Ignis looked at his blood and gore covered skin. He'd want to wash that before they made their way back if he could.

He sidestepped around the viscera on the floor and worked on detaching the diaphragm and removing the creature's heart and lungs. With the head removed, that would be easier as he wouldn't need to fish up into its throat for the trachea.

"The only way you're going to have the opportunity to prove anything," he said, distracted by working on the carcass, "is to pull your weight." What he was doing now was a start, but only a start, and Ignis wasn't sure Szayel would be able to keep it up.

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