№2 ➤ video/action ⁖

[noneedforheroic]

[She knew better, really she did, but the dull edge of restlessness was just starting to get to her. Had been creeping, very slowly, she wasn't like Red, she could handle downtime and endless hours of bullshit recon with nothing but a cigarette for company. But it had found a catalyst in those fucking phantoms, a subtle itch that she just can't

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[action]

[existwithoutme]

[When Rude looks up, it might seem like a symptom of her delirium, but a small, oddly dressed woman is floating above her, looking down at her with very cold eyes.]

You should be more careful. You're only a weak human. [She continues to study Rude, seemingly indifferent, but she is attempting to feel a measure of compassion for the suffering creature. Surely sympathy should be immediate? She could cure Rude easily, but she'd like to feel something first.]

[She glances toward the cave opening.] What are the monsters like?

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[noneedforheroic]

[That's downright distressing, and it's never a good sign when someone's looking down their nose at you, reminding you about the weakness inherit to your species.]

Beastly.

[A terse answer to a dumb question. She shakes her head and gives another cough, annoyed by the way her arms shake.]

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[existwithoutme]

Not that it truly matters, as you cannot die here, but I've heard pain can be traumatic. [She examines Rude searchingly, as if looking for signs of this trauma. Maybe she's starting to feel something, but she doesn't have enough empathy to realize this is not the way to be empathetic.]

[She gives a little smile.] Hm, how descriptive. I find humans can be rather beastly as well. Such is the nature of beasts. After all, you entered the monsters' realm, and they reacted as any territorial creature would. I don't doubt you attacked them in response. Animals are so predictable.

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[noneedforheroic]

[She snorts, curling up slightly to ease the tremor. This isn't a good time for philosophy.]

Then I was in good company.

[She looks up, sunglasses slipping down her nose.]

You want something? I'm a little busy.

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[existwithoutme]

[Kuja blinks at the question, a momentary confusion taking the coldness from her eyes. She remembers herself. Yes, she had had a purpose, before the closeness to death had distracted her--the soul fluttering in the vessel of its body. She is no longer an Angel of Death, yet it does have an effect on her. She will not be ruled by her nature; she can master it.

She lands, lightly, on her pointed shoes.]

Ah yes, busy dying. A lifelong pursuit. [She appreciates the wryness of the remark.] You must forgive me, I am not used to interacting with your kind.

[It is not a lie, as she is not used to interacting in this way, but she too can help people, as he would. She gestures with her hands, and the magic comes as easily here as it always did: bright and clean, a glittering wave.]

That should suffice.

[She leans in, tilting her head to one side. She isn't actually used to healing others, though she does know healing magic.]

Do you feel improved?

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[noneedforheroic]

[She doesn't appreciate being mocked, doesn't appreciate being down on the ground with this thing looking at her. Definitely not human, which means Rude doesn't have to respect it, just be wary.]

Thank you kindly.

[There's a curl of disgust and dishonesty there, contrite over the assistance she'd needed, but it wasn't like she'd asked anyone but Red to come bring it.

She stays on her knees for a moment, breathing deep, but she sits up fully to at least face ye wearer of pointy shoes.]

I think I'm good to go.

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[existwithoutme]

[Kuja is pleased with herself for being benevolent, but she doesn't care about the woman's thanks or reaction. Disgust means very little to her, she is so accustomed to it.]

Are you certain? I can't tell with you frail beings. [However, she's willing to take Rude's word for it, if Rude says she's improved.]

[Kuja's indifference to emotions doesn't mean she isn't curious. She is, in fact, a little bored.] What is your name? Why did you enter the caves? [If her manner is autocratic, she honestly doesn't notice.]

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[noneedforheroic]

[She's anything but frail. Goddamn.]

Yeah, right back to my usual frail self.

[She glances off quietly, suspects its too soon to be up, needs to let her system stabilize from the stress, but it shouldn't take long. She's a tough girl. But she knows her limits.]

Just got a little lost, don't worry about it.

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[existwithoutme]

[It's nothing personal, Rude, Kuja thinks (almost) everyone is frail.]

I'm not at all worried. [She says this in all honesty; worry for someone she doesn't know is yet a bit advanced for her. She has not developed that much concern for anyone in the Gardens.]

I had considered entering the caves and attempting to tame one of the monsters, to see if it can be done, but I have no real need for such a beast, and I doubt any would make suitable mounts. I had a fleet of magnificent dragons, at home.

Are you another warrior? I notice they are the most likely to charge in without thinking. There are so many warriors here. I am a poet, myself. [Kuja feels she can make this claim in spite of having no heart and having never written a poem in her life. She can live poetry; that is enough. She's certainly not a violent person, not at all.]

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[noneedforheroic]

[And she talks a lot too... Rude frowns impatiently, definitely doesn't like this freak in the slightest. A magnificent fleet of dragons? What the hell.]

Didn't think poets usually kept monsters. Doesn't really seem like their deal.

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[existwithoutme]

[Poetry and monsters being two of Kuja's favorite subjects, she doesn't need much encouragement to expound upon either.] Perhaps there is a great deal you don't know about poets. Not to mention my world.

Poets may have other talents, other skills. They need not limit themselves to pen and paper. There are many ways to be a poet, many forms poetry may take. Life itself can be a kind of poetry.

A poet should have a monstrous side, or at the very least an understanding of monsters. How else can she delve into the darker parts of the soul? It is the poet's primary task to be absolutely courageous and to shy from nothing.

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[noneedforheroic]

[Rude gives her a skeptical look, getting to her feet slowly, body tense.]

Sure. [She agrees with that flatly, even though it all sounds like bullshit to her.]

Poetry's not really my deal.

[What was that about warriors rushing in without thinking? What a bitch...]

You're the expert.

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[existwithoutme]

[Kuja is interested enough in the woman to study her, as she wants to be more empathetic, more caring. She's not very used to communicating with others in this ordinary, face to face way. Humans don't seem to understand her very well.]

I speak metaphorically, of course. [She gives a vague smile.] A great poet's true task is to examine and illuminate every part of the heart and the soul, for it is within and not without that the worst monsters and the most killing poison can be found.

[She knows this very well. She fears no monster more than herself.]

As for literal monsters, I have the gift of dominion over beasts, but it is ordinarily best to allow them to be free.

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[noneedforheroic]

[Rude's expression is not amused behind her glasses. Speaking in metaphor, of course. That was a great way to communicate. She preferred something a little more direct, she would leave the poetics and thinly veiled threats to Tseng and Rufus.]

I'm deployed in the real world, babe. [A grim little smile.] I can handle the shit inside of me.

[She jerks a thumb back towards the entrance of the cave.]

Those are the beasts I've got to work on.

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[existwithoutme]

[She gives a sharp, ironic smile of her own in return. What is inside her can destroy real worlds--she doesn't worry about anything else so much. That is where the true danger lies, for her. Not that she would say that.]

To me, such beasts as reside in that cave are a small matter, easily mastered or destroyed.

It is a matter of perspective: what is real, and what is of importance.