[ Cid keeps a hand on the center of Clive's back, steadying him against the gentle rocking of the elevator as it raises them into the new Hideaway. Steadying himself, too, if he wants to be honest about it. Maybe Clive understands, because he doesn't fuss about being able to handle it on his own.
Clive had struggled most in that first week, too accustomed to a body that did as he told it all these years, now that even the Eikons had come to heel for him. Now that, even for a brief moment, the world itself had bent to his will. To now require aid to move from one end of a room to the other would have been difficult for anyone. The worst of it was that it wasn't pride that made Clive stubborn; he had carried the world on his shoulders, but he still seemed to believe that it didn't owe him anything in turn.
Cid, for one, owed him a debt that seemed more unpayable by the day. Not just for his dream, but for his very existence, now.
He'd come back more healthy and hale than he'd been when he left the world, with only faint scars to show that he'd ever carried the crystal's curse, or that he'd ever had a hole in his chest big enough to put his fist through. It's... disconcerting, to say the least. It was as if he'd gone to sleep, and five years had passed, and Clive had moved the twins in that time.
Cid had gotten much of the story from Clive in the months they'd been traveling together. It had cost him dearly, but he had escaped his Fate, and he had taken the rest of the world with him into a bright new dawn. Now, the work begins for the rest of them.
The elevator comes to a stop, and Cid gives the lad a pat on the back, letting Clive stand on his own.
Torgal is the first to greet them, tail and head held high, with a faintly perplexed Jill close at his heels. He can only imagine what they look like to her; a pair of old ghosts arriving in the middle of the night.
Her usually muted expression changes quickly as ice melting before a fire. Cid glances away as she and Clive embrace, like he's busy giving Torgal a healthy scratch behind the ears — which he is. Would have been nice if they could have sent a stolas, but the owls are all just owls now, and the post had been a mess before half the world had gone akashic.
It takes only moments for the others to start to take notice, surprised exclamations of Cid? rising up through the new Hideaway, most of them directed at Clive, if he had to guess.
You'll see that he gets to the infirmary, won't you lass? Get that arm looked at. Tarja can handle it from there, give the two of them a little privacy. Cid can handle the rest. He makes for Dorys as she moves toward him, her hand on the hilt of her sword as if she's uncertain if she ought to draw it. He and Clive had planned it all this way; coming in late so as to avoid too much commotion, and the handling of what commotion they did happen to stir. Cid would like to take care of it all himself, but the fact is there are plenty here now who have never seen his face.
It takes only minutes for Dorys to send everyone back to their patrols and duties in exchange for the promise of one hell of a story. Cid heads off 'round the back to what Dorys had called Mid's Dungeon.
The workshop is smaller than he expected it to be, but it's a true workshop none the less. Candles have been lit to ward off the darkness, only a few of them still sputtering with life, and though there is evidence that Mid isn't the only one working here, she's certainly the only one working so late. She sits at her desk with her head pillowed against her arm, fast asleep, with a quill dangling from her fingers and a smudge of ink on her cheek.
She's taller now, just like he imagined she'd be, but he doubts she'll ever be big enough to contain that personality of hers. She wears her hair the way he'd braided it when he'd sent her off to Kanvar; it's neat. She must have learned to do it herself. She must have gotten a lot of practice.
For the first time since he'd woken up on that beach, Cid feels the unsteadiness of his legs beneath him. He presses his palm against the table, careful of her diagrams. ]
Midadol. [ He swallows around the thickness in his throat and brushes his thumb against her cheek to wipe away that smear of ink. ] You're not too big for me to carry you off to your room, you know. [ It isn't much of a threat. When she was a girl, she'd sometimes giggle and keep her eyes closed, prompting him to do just that. ]
[ mid had been up late — later than usual, at least — working hard to help the transition to a magicless world. after everything that's happened, and everything that's been lost, it's become an important goal for her. more important than she could ever put into words, really.
her dad begun this movement, worked as the glue to keep it together for so long, and she couldn't feasibly call herself his daughter were she to abandon it now that it'd borne fruit. now that her entire hideaway "family" had worked so hard to bring their world to this point, clive most of all.
she'd lost so much despite the world gaining everything, and maybe this was partially a form of coping — to keep herself busy, continuing their legacy. it meant everything to her, though some nights it encouraged a bit of reckless behavior to finish up something she was working on, or to jot more diagrams down before she lost them to the void of sleep.
tonight is one such night, diagrams of various large-scale soil and water purification devices strewn about her desk, notes unreadable to any but her, hastily jotted down to get every idea out of her head as soon as she could. sometimes her brain works a little too fast for her body to keep up, her growth doing little to help just as it does little to contain her personality.
softly, she stirs at cid's touch, his deep voice digging into her regardless of volume — he has the sort of voice to shake one's insides, much like a drum, and she's yet to run into anyone else with the gift. (she's not so sure she'd want to, anyway — it's her dad's thing.) ]
Mmn... [ she groans with an exhale, before inhaling right after and pulling her arms close, hands going under her head. there was almost a waking stretch there, but it turned into repositioning for more sleep.
that doesn't mean she didn't hear him, though. his words reached her despite her lack of consciousness, prompting her lips to curl into a childish smile. ]
Go ahead 'n... try... Betcha can't...
[ it's as if she's in a dreaming state influenced by him, conscious enough to hear but not enough to recognize what's happening. and in that dream, she's happy as a clam. she's with her dad, after all, and he's opening himself up for a challenge that she just can't help but test him with. ]
[ She might have been right, if he was the man he had been before Clive had brought him back. The curse that had ravaged so much of his body would have punished him for the hubris of it, and while he's nothing more or less than an ordinary man now, ordinary is enough.
He knows it's a fool thing to do. He doesn't know where she sleeps in this labyrinthine Hideaway, and he's like to give her a start when she seems so peaceful, but Cid has always been something of a fool when it comes to a certain daughter of his. ]
Another bad gamble, eh? [ He leans down and places a hand on her shoulder, nudging her toward his chest in the hope that she'll lean against him and remember to wrap her arms around his neck of her own accord so he can get her up.
She needs a bath, Cid thinks. Someone ought to have coaxed her to rest. Someone should have looked after his little girl while she tried to look after the world. ] Come on then, little 'un.
[ the slight jostling in order to get her into his arms is enough to begin the process of waking her up, though at first she's not entirely there yet, and thus goes along with his actions. she exhales softly — comfortably — with a smile as her arms move on their own to their usual position, as though she never even went so long without him in her life.
there's a soft 'mmnn' as she does, leaning herself into him just as she would as a child. he's warm, soft, strong — and that voice of his rumbles low from his chest just as she'd remembered. ]
Dad... [ the first time she says it, it's soft and full of affection. she's still mostly in the dream, but she's coming out of it here. her fingers twitch against him, she breathes again, and then she speaks, her voice breaking ever so slightly from the sadness that seeps in — the vague recollection of his absence overtaking the dream's ability to convince her he's here. ] Dad...
[ and then she's half-startling awake, a soft gasp as her mind catches up with things, her eyes opening to look right up at him him with bleariness, a hint of sadness (as she's wont to display when waking up to reality), and then...
a high-pitched shout and involuntary shoving, as she throws herself backward from him and if he doesn't already have his arms around her firmly enough, she's going to fall right back off her chair in the process of all of this.
sorry she just didn't know what to do in the moment and there's no way this could be her dad, she was dreaming and he's not alive anymore and surely it's a monster or sick trickster or something else. ]
[ There's a thing he never thought he'd hear again, and the sadness in it breaks his heart. It has always been a matter of time, for them. One day Cid would leave and he wouldn't come back, and that has been true since she was a babe in arms. That doesn't mean that guilt doesn't swell in his chest all the same.
When she starts flailing, it's instinct that kicks in before anything else. Cid holds her tighter. ]
Midadol -- Midadol, that's enough.
[ He puts as much authority as he can in his tone; it was rare to do it even when she was a child — not unless her life was in danger or somesuch — but it usually meant that he could get her to listen when he did. As soon as he's certain she's got her balance again, he lets her go, hands up and open as he backs off a step or two.
He's played this conversation over in his mind hundreds of times, and yet Cid finds himself at a loss before his daughter. He doesn't stumble over his words, but each one feels as if he's fighting against the thickness in his throat. ]
...You're a lighter sleeper than you used to be. [ He smiles, the expression pinched tight. It's definitely one of his worst, as far as apologies go. ] I know Clive makes for a handsome Cid, but you can't have forgotten my face already.
[ He has no doubt that her scream will draw any Cursebreakers who haven't been caught up by Dorys, but hopefully he's got enough time to talk to her before one of them has a mind to put an arrow in his back. ]
[ he certainly deserves an arrow in his back for leaving her and putting her through all this!
she flinches a bit, almost nervously, at the way his voice fills with authority — a sort of instant reminder to any time he'd do it when she was a child. for a kid, it's difficult to shake the way one reacts to their parent taking a stern tone. she has to actively bring herself back into the moment, realize where she is, how old she is, and who she's with.
right, who she's with. the world over knows "cid", whether it be clive's version of him or his own, but anyone would be hard pressed to know this side of him — the side reserved for his daughter, for someone close to him. his authoritative tone, his softness, his intonations, his knowledge of her sleep—
she takes a shaky, cautious breath to keep herself from jumping out of her skin from all that she's feeling, looking him over as he speaks, discerning eyes scanning every inch of him and landing locked on his own. it's him. it's really, truly him. she can feel it deep in her bones.
and in a split second, she goes from sitting haphazardly on that chair, to practically jumping into his chest, arms locking around his torso tighter than her tiny arms ever seemed like they could — blink and you'd miss her movement. she's never been one to hold herself back from anything, and seeing him here in front of her was just... too much for her to sit by and merely "inspect". she doesn't think about her actions for event a moment, just does them. ]
Y-... Ya got three seconds to explain to me what's goin' on here. [ her voice is shaky, but there's a hint of forced authority back at him. she feels entitled to this information, thanks. ] And— to come up with a better apology.
[ because thus far it sucks. he might need to apologize to her every day for the next year for it to count. ]
[ On second thought, Cid would sooner take the arrow than the way she's looking at him. For a brief and ridiculous moment, he wonders if she'll find some part of him amiss — some blemish on his body or soul that marks him as something other than her father. It's not as if he understands how this magic works; it's not as if he can know that he's really himself, plucked from the lifestream by Clive's own hand, or if he's some sort of restless aetheric phantom, gone the moment someone sees him for what he—
And then she's thrown herself into his arms, her grip just shy of painful, and the world seems to set itself right again. She's gotten so strong, like he knew she would. Cid is too stunned to move for a moment, but then he holds her just as tight, turning to press a kiss to her temple. Her scolding shakes a laugh out of him, but it feels heavy in his chest, pushing a few stray tears from his eyes. ]
That's my girl... Gods, you're so big now. I'll be looking up at you before long, eh? [ He'd teased her before, about how they'd have to make statues of her before that happened. She'd been even smaller then, standing on his work table and barely reaching his face. Now look at her.
But she's right, it's a fair enough question. He owes her as much. ] I'll spend what's left of my life making it up to you — how's that, for a start?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
judgmentbolts) wrote2023-09-07 06:50 pm
[ Cid & Mid ]
Clive had struggled most in that first week, too accustomed to a body that did as he told it all these years, now that even the Eikons had come to heel for him. Now that, even for a brief moment, the world itself had bent to his will. To now require aid to move from one end of a room to the other would have been difficult for anyone. The worst of it was that it wasn't pride that made Clive stubborn; he had carried the world on his shoulders, but he still seemed to believe that it didn't owe him anything in turn.
Cid, for one, owed him a debt that seemed more unpayable by the day. Not just for his dream, but for his very existence, now.
He'd come back more healthy and hale than he'd been when he left the world, with only faint scars to show that he'd ever carried the crystal's curse, or that he'd ever had a hole in his chest big enough to put his fist through. It's... disconcerting, to say the least. It was as if he'd gone to sleep, and five years had passed, and Clive had moved the twins in that time.
Cid had gotten much of the story from Clive in the months they'd been traveling together. It had cost him dearly, but he had escaped his Fate, and he had taken the rest of the world with him into a bright new dawn. Now, the work begins for the rest of them.
The elevator comes to a stop, and Cid gives the lad a pat on the back, letting Clive stand on his own.
Torgal is the first to greet them, tail and head held high, with a faintly perplexed Jill close at his heels. He can only imagine what they look like to her; a pair of old ghosts arriving in the middle of the night.
Her usually muted expression changes quickly as ice melting before a fire. Cid glances away as she and Clive embrace, like he's busy giving Torgal a healthy scratch behind the ears — which he is. Would have been nice if they could have sent a stolas, but the owls are all just owls now, and the post had been a mess before half the world had gone akashic.
It takes only moments for the others to start to take notice, surprised exclamations of Cid? rising up through the new Hideaway, most of them directed at Clive, if he had to guess.
You'll see that he gets to the infirmary, won't you lass? Get that arm looked at. Tarja can handle it from there, give the two of them a little privacy. Cid can handle the rest. He makes for Dorys as she moves toward him, her hand on the hilt of her sword as if she's uncertain if she ought to draw it. He and Clive had planned it all this way; coming in late so as to avoid too much commotion, and the handling of what commotion they did happen to stir. Cid would like to take care of it all himself, but the fact is there are plenty here now who have never seen his face.
It takes only minutes for Dorys to send everyone back to their patrols and duties in exchange for the promise of one hell of a story. Cid heads off 'round the back to what Dorys had called Mid's Dungeon.
The workshop is smaller than he expected it to be, but it's a true workshop none the less. Candles have been lit to ward off the darkness, only a few of them still sputtering with life, and though there is evidence that Mid isn't the only one working here, she's certainly the only one working so late. She sits at her desk with her head pillowed against her arm, fast asleep, with a quill dangling from her fingers and a smudge of ink on her cheek.
She's taller now, just like he imagined she'd be, but he doubts she'll ever be big enough to contain that personality of hers. She wears her hair the way he'd braided it when he'd sent her off to Kanvar; it's neat. She must have learned to do it herself. She must have gotten a lot of practice.
For the first time since he'd woken up on that beach, Cid feels the unsteadiness of his legs beneath him. He presses his palm against the table, careful of her diagrams. ]
Midadol. [ He swallows around the thickness in his throat and brushes his thumb against her cheek to wipe away that smear of ink. ] You're not too big for me to carry you off to your room, you know. [ It isn't much of a threat. When she was a girl, she'd sometimes giggle and keep her eyes closed, prompting him to do just that. ]
time 2 cry
her dad begun this movement, worked as the glue to keep it together for so long, and she couldn't feasibly call herself his daughter were she to abandon it now that it'd borne fruit. now that her entire hideaway "family" had worked so hard to bring their world to this point, clive most of all.
she'd lost so much despite the world gaining everything, and maybe this was partially a form of coping — to keep herself busy, continuing their legacy. it meant everything to her, though some nights it encouraged a bit of reckless behavior to finish up something she was working on, or to jot more diagrams down before she lost them to the void of sleep.
tonight is one such night, diagrams of various large-scale soil and water purification devices strewn about her desk, notes unreadable to any but her, hastily jotted down to get every idea out of her head as soon as she could. sometimes her brain works a little too fast for her body to keep up, her growth doing little to help just as it does little to contain her personality.
softly, she stirs at cid's touch, his deep voice digging into her regardless of volume — he has the sort of voice to shake one's insides, much like a drum, and she's yet to run into anyone else with the gift. (she's not so sure she'd want to, anyway — it's her dad's thing.) ]
Mmn... [ she groans with an exhale, before inhaling right after and pulling her arms close, hands going under her head. there was almost a waking stretch there, but it turned into repositioning for more sleep.
that doesn't mean she didn't hear him, though. his words reached her despite her lack of consciousness, prompting her lips to curl into a childish smile. ]
Go ahead 'n... try... Betcha can't...
[ it's as if she's in a dreaming state influenced by him, conscious enough to hear but not enough to recognize what's happening. and in that dream, she's happy as a clam. she's with her dad, after all, and he's opening himself up for a challenge that she just can't help but test him with. ]
no subject
He knows it's a fool thing to do. He doesn't know where she sleeps in this labyrinthine Hideaway, and he's like to give her a start when she seems so peaceful, but Cid has always been something of a fool when it comes to a certain daughter of his. ]
Another bad gamble, eh? [ He leans down and places a hand on her shoulder, nudging her toward his chest in the hope that she'll lean against him and remember to wrap her arms around his neck of her own accord so he can get her up.
She needs a bath, Cid thinks. Someone ought to have coaxed her to rest. Someone should have looked after his little girl while she tried to look after the world. ] Come on then, little 'un.
no subject
there's a soft 'mmnn' as she does, leaning herself into him just as she would as a child. he's warm, soft, strong — and that voice of his rumbles low from his chest just as she'd remembered. ]
Dad... [ the first time she says it, it's soft and full of affection. she's still mostly in the dream, but she's coming out of it here. her fingers twitch against him, she breathes again, and then she speaks, her voice breaking ever so slightly from the sadness that seeps in — the vague recollection of his absence overtaking the dream's ability to convince her he's here. ] Dad...
[ and then she's half-startling awake, a soft gasp as her mind catches up with things, her eyes opening to look right up at him him with bleariness, a hint of sadness (as she's wont to display when waking up to reality), and then...
a high-pitched shout and involuntary shoving, as she throws herself backward from him and if he doesn't already have his arms around her firmly enough, she's going to fall right back off her chair in the process of all of this.
sorry she just didn't know what to do in the moment and there's no way this could be her dad, she was dreaming and he's not alive anymore and surely it's a monster or sick trickster or something else. ]
no subject
When she starts flailing, it's instinct that kicks in before anything else. Cid holds her tighter. ]
Midadol -- Midadol, that's enough.
[ He puts as much authority as he can in his tone; it was rare to do it even when she was a child — not unless her life was in danger or somesuch — but it usually meant that he could get her to listen when he did. As soon as he's certain she's got her balance again, he lets her go, hands up and open as he backs off a step or two.
He's played this conversation over in his mind hundreds of times, and yet Cid finds himself at a loss before his daughter. He doesn't stumble over his words, but each one feels as if he's fighting against the thickness in his throat. ]
...You're a lighter sleeper than you used to be. [ He smiles, the expression pinched tight. It's definitely one of his worst, as far as apologies go. ] I know Clive makes for a handsome Cid, but you can't have forgotten my face already.
[ He has no doubt that her scream will draw any Cursebreakers who haven't been caught up by Dorys, but hopefully he's got enough time to talk to her before one of them has a mind to put an arrow in his back. ]
no subject
she flinches a bit, almost nervously, at the way his voice fills with authority — a sort of instant reminder to any time he'd do it when she was a child. for a kid, it's difficult to shake the way one reacts to their parent taking a stern tone. she has to actively bring herself back into the moment, realize where she is, how old she is, and who she's with.
right, who she's with. the world over knows "cid", whether it be clive's version of him or his own, but anyone would be hard pressed to know this side of him — the side reserved for his daughter, for someone close to him. his authoritative tone, his softness, his intonations, his knowledge of her sleep—
she takes a shaky, cautious breath to keep herself from jumping out of her skin from all that she's feeling, looking him over as he speaks, discerning eyes scanning every inch of him and landing locked on his own. it's him. it's really, truly him. she can feel it deep in her bones.
and in a split second, she goes from sitting haphazardly on that chair, to practically jumping into his chest, arms locking around his torso tighter than her tiny arms ever seemed like they could — blink and you'd miss her movement. she's never been one to hold herself back from anything, and seeing him here in front of her was just... too much for her to sit by and merely "inspect". she doesn't think about her actions for event a moment, just does them. ]
Y-... Ya got three seconds to explain to me what's goin' on here. [ her voice is shaky, but there's a hint of forced authority back at him. she feels entitled to this information, thanks. ] And— to come up with a better apology.
[ because thus far it sucks. he might need to apologize to her every day for the next year for it to count. ]
no subject
And then she's thrown herself into his arms, her grip just shy of painful, and the world seems to set itself right again. She's gotten so strong, like he knew she would. Cid is too stunned to move for a moment, but then he holds her just as tight, turning to press a kiss to her temple. Her scolding shakes a laugh out of him, but it feels heavy in his chest, pushing a few stray tears from his eyes. ]
That's my girl... Gods, you're so big now. I'll be looking up at you before long, eh? [ He'd teased her before, about how they'd have to make statues of her before that happened. She'd been even smaller then, standing on his work table and barely reaching his face. Now look at her.
But she's right, it's a fair enough question. He owes her as much. ] I'll spend what's left of my life making it up to you — how's that, for a start?