We Are Connected

[silent_sacrifice]

Soulbonds are not the most common of things, and perhaps not always the most comforting. A few moments scratched out here or there while both parties are asleep, little more than impressions and echoes of conversation brought back into the waking world until meeting, and the frustration of knowing you must wait. Who knew how long one would have to wait to meet their other part, if waiting would ever be enough.

There was always a distance. A potential for the potential not being fulfilled. A longing that could not be properly expressed or fulfilled.

Perhaps it was that aspect that had drive Genesis to poetry and art so young. The particular frustration that came with a distant soulmate (literally and metaphorically) who was so dismissive of him had forced him to find other ways to express himself. And from there looking for other people expressing complex things in flowering language.

He knows what drove him into his current position, though. Well, metaphorically current position because he's certain he's in his bed asleep right now, because there was no other reason he would be here and now: sitting under a dumbapple tree in jeans and plaid, bathed in early evening sunlight, waiting. This, he knew, was a dream. One that his soulmate lingered in somewhere. Whether the old bat would choose to join Genesis in conversation or not tonight was an entirely different question.

Really, Genesis was certain that if they ever met, Angeal might punch the man, if only because of how many days he had to deal with Genesis bemoaning his frustrating bondmate.

"I know you are here. It's only ever this grove for me when you walk into my dreams."

At least this one he recognizes. When it is the other man's dream he strolls into the places are always so distant and so strange. Like nothing Genesis has seen on Gaia. Which is an intriguing mystery in and of itself every time he wakes, though he always remembers in the dreams there is a reason for that.

Because of course he would be cursed to a soul bond with someone not of his own planet.

Comments

Re: it sure does

[silent_sacrifice]

Alike, or perhaps upon the path to being alike in some ways. The seeds are there. One might yet see how well the youth grows into the bond.

"As far as I can tell, nothing. He works and works and doesn't seem to get close to anyone."

[unnecessaryflourishes]

One might. And Emet-Selch certainly intends to. After all, it's hardly as if he doesn't have time enough to spare. If all that should come out of this soulbond is a brief moment of diversion that could yet be something.

"Ah. I have known the type."

Many a time, in fact, over the span of his life.

"There is something to be said to gently insisting he spend an evening doing aught else. Though you may wish to choose something that is at least similar to whatever said work might entail?"

[silent_sacrifice]

Similar to what said work might entail? Genesis sighs and shakes his head.

"We're warriors. He does paperwork. Then he goes back to wherever he goes at the end of the night if he isn't on shift. The man is a wall of frustration. Angeal says I should be patient with him. But the man only seems to work."

It makes him frustrated as hell. This was the reason Genesis had left his small town. The reason he wanted to be more. Can't the man recognize him?

[unnecessaryflourishes]

There's a pause, before Emet-Selch answers. But it's a knowing sort of pause. One that says he knows this sort of individual as well, and is weighing the options for how best one might proceed.

"You are a warrior yourself, yes? Surely the both of you must do some manner of training? Perhaps you will earn yourself his attention should you prove yourself a worthy equal in such endeavors. Someone against whom he can test his blade and seek to improve."

[silent_sacrifice]

Congratulations, Emet-Selch. You've earned the most frustrated groan imaginable.

"And that, I assure you, I have tried! The man is impossibly good. While I grow into a master in my own right, his speed is insane. I've seen him cut fireballs in half. And bullets!"

[unnecessaryflourishes]

"Ah, but you have something he does not."

Emet-Selch does not much appear to be a warrior at first glance. Not with the casual opulence of his robes, fur-trimmed as they are, or the fact that he seems to slouch as a matter of habit. But by the smile on his face and the amused gleam in his eye it very definitely seems as if he is offering himself as a sparring partner.

[silent_sacrifice]

"A soulmate with a penchant for fur?" Genesis teases, but he does push to his feet as it were. "What experience have you, old man, in a fight? I wonder."

Because if the man cannot keep up with the young Soldier, why would he be able to help him? But he supposes he can try.

[unnecessaryflourishes]

"You might too, had you been forced to suffer the winters of Garlemald."

It's the first time he's really mentioning anything significantly of not of his life prior to their meeting. Or so much as implied a preference for any sort of weather; he quite unsurprisingly moves right along as if he hasn't just offered some further tantalizing bits.

Instead, he raises a hand above his head and snaps, his outfit changing in the blink of an eye to something that looks distinctly easier to fight. He has left off the hat and facemask out of a lack of a need for either, but it still very much suggests at a climate that tends very distinctly towards cold.

"Perhaps you will find this better suited?"

If Genesis is looking closely, he might also spot that Emet-Selch is no longer slouching, which at least makes it clear that he does so by choice, most of the time. Though even despite that he doesn't appear to be actually armed.

[silent_sacrifice]

"It still looks bulky, but we shall see."

He rises to his own feet and the armor of his belt and shoulder pieces appear, as well as his blade in his hand.

"You are taller than I believed. Would you care to present your arms?"

[unnecessaryflourishes]

"It suits the climate from whence it hails."

It might be somewhat heavier than what Genesis himself wears, true. But it's something that Emet-Selch is used to, and familiar enough that it's not any significant trouble to call to mind.

(He makes no significant comment on his height, save to offer a brief nod of acknowledgement.)

That said, if Genesis is not particularly familiar with gunblades, the weapon Emet-Selch draws is likely to more than a little unusual. But he holds with the ease of long practice, despite its unorthodox appearance, and doesn't seem to be terribly concerned with what Genesis himself might be able to offer in return.

"At your leisure."

the tumblr link does not lead to where you mean methinks

[silent_sacrifice]

Yes, that might be a good point. Somewhere not unlike Icicle. And yet not, for Genesis knew there were no great cities there.

"As if there is any leisure in such play. Though I wonder whether magic could be called upon here."

Oh well, no need to wonder. He darts forward, slashing out in a testing blow with his own sword.

[unnecessaryflourishes]

"It is near enough a dream. Why should it not be?"

Not that Emet-Selch has made any great effort to call on the more offensive magics of which he is capable. But it stands to reason that it ought to be all the same.

But for now, he is content to leave it in the realm of the theoretical as he brings up his own blade neatly to block, in one well-practiced motion. And without any apparent difficult besides; though he doesn't quite look bored it does seem clear that this attempt is something he hasn't had any difficulty with.

Nor does he waste any time making his own move, once Genesis' blade has been deflected, stepping back only enough to disengage before coming in with a strike of his own - one that is likewise meant to test Genesis' skills, though he puts a little more effort behind it.

[silent_sacrifice]

Yes, well, he is only testing his soulmate. Clearly it's not something that shows his true power. After all, Genesis's power is in his speed. So he parries the blow with deft skill, his mako enhanced eyes flashing with light for a moment before he jabbed forward once, twice, thrice in the blink of an eye.