revivalproject | [Open] Calibrating Body and Mind

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[Open] Calibrating Body and Mind

WHO: Gladiolus Amicita, OTA
WHERE: Gladio's Calibration Room
WHAT: Calibrations
WHEN: May 9th to June 10th
WARNINGS: None

Calibrations Waiting Room

Here

Calibrations
Coming into the dream room means coming to be awake in a collapsible canvas chair at a campsite. It's one of four such pale yellow chairs, not that the color fully comes through in the light of the fire they are arrayed around. Behind them rests a tent large enough for four or five, and nearby waits a camp table with cooking gear. All of it is lit in an almost eerie fashion, as all about the stone surface the campsite is set up on are deep channels cut into the stone in large runic symbols that glow with a blue light. The light cast by those runes, the campfire, and the lantern over the cooking area does nothing at all to drive back the depths of the night. Which, in a way, makes sense because if one tries to leave the raised stone platform of the campsite they would head down the ramp that circles it and, within two feet of the edges of the platform, run into the dark painted walls that confine the strange room.

Not that Gladio, sitting in one of the canvas chairs by the fire, seems to notice. He sits there, watching the blaze, clad in the uniform he arrived in, looking as if he might find answers in the fire. Not that any are coming. The chairs, other than the one Gladio is in and you arrived in, aren't empty. In one lays a DSLR camera, and resting next to it a strange stuffed animal. The stuffed animal rests by the arm of the chair, looking like it might reach toward Gladio, the firelight gleaming and flashing in the plastic jewel attached to the top of its head by a spring.

The last few things that might draw attention both stand away from where Gladio sits. Leaning against one of the other chairs is a fishing pole on one side, one that might be familiar to someone who has seen Noctis around fishing. Leaning against the other side of the chair is a massive katana, longer even than the greatswords Gladio most commonly favored. The hilt was wrapped in red leather and with a string of blue beads wrapped near the guard.

"Feel free to rest as long as you need," Gladio says. "Well, at least until the fire goes out. Then we should head to sleep."

[OOC: To escape, watch memories, or find a way to put that fire out. Good news, there's no water.]

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This place was... strange. Yet sort of familiar. While the chairs and the tents weren't what Lerith was accustomed to seeing, the campfire and comforting scent of firewood was. It reminded him of Haven, both when it was peaceful and what it was attacked by a dragon.

He traces a foot over the blue line for a moment, following the sweeping arc of a glowing symbol. Nothing happens at least, so that was also comforting. It's when the strange voice pipes up does the elf startle, but look to the burly man lounging in one of the strange fabric chairs. Who was that?

Lerith frowns a little. He doesn't know how to communicate with anyone that doesn't know Sign and he doesn't know where his communication device is. The elf at least heads over to the fire, keeping it between the two of them. [Hi,] though it's more of a mimed greeting than a sign.

A questioning look shows on his face before pointing at Gladio. Trying to ask who he was.

"Gladio," he answered in response to the pantomiming. That much was easy to derive. He's had harder times communicating with other people than he might have with Lerith. He was a patient man, after all.

Lerith makes his way up to the fire, feeling the warmth of it. Touches the strange chairs. Did...they fold? How odd. Efficient. But his eyes look at the stuffed animal perched on the arm of one. Then the camera. There's some interesting items here and Lerith wonders about a lot of them.

The questioning look returns as he points to the moogle plushie. [What creature? Looks soft.]

"It's a moogle. Mythical creature. My sister loves them."

EVen if it makes no sense. The things shouldn't exist. But she loved them anyway.

Lerith had no sign for that. A moogle? It was adorable at least. He tries some out, mostly an 'm' bouncing over his head like its jeweled adornment, but a lot of them just don't seem to fit. For now, he settles with spelling its name out. [Moogle.]

The elf picks it up to sit in the seat with it in his lap for now.

Oh. It was soft!

It was soft, and Lerith barely had a chance to sit down before the whole already around them was consumed by shadows and then gone, replaced with a lovely mansion. Or what might be a lovely mansion. Hard to tell when there is only a single room clearly obvious, with an opening to a hall beyond it. Granted it was a grand entrance hall with a big staircase and the implied things.

In the wood paneled living room there was a cushy wood and leather couch, and on it was a teenaged girl who was kicking her legs in the air, the stuffed moogle laying on her back as she was reading some book with a cover that had a picture of a lean, beautiful man holding a small, even more beautiful woman in his arms in a swoon.

"Glady!" the girl said, looking over to where a younger Gladio, clean-shaven and with short shorn hair more like Lerith's style, sat reading a leather bound book. "Lady Deliane is being sooooo stupid right now! She has refused the suggestions of Prince Relan. I don't get it."

Gladio, sitting in the recliner, huffed in amusement at his sister.

And the other Gladio, the Gladio who knew of Agra 10 and missed his sister, stood behind the younger Gladio, looking at Lerith.

"She's definitely energetic," this Gladio said to Lerith. "Gotta love her."

Lerith startled at the sudden change of scenery. At the sight of a mansion, he held the moogle doll tight and shrank down. It was so ornate, and reminded him of the villa in Tevinter. Finally he noted the young human that had some resemblance to Gladio next to him. And also the Gladio seated with a book.

This was just weird.

He looked to the older Gladio he had 'arrived' with and gave a little grin. [She seems nice. Is she your sister?] He hoped that Gladio at least would understand some semblance of his signing since he still couldn't speak.

"Gladdddddy!" the girl said, her voice pitching up in a whine. "Come on, tell me the Prince picks her in the end!"

The younger Gladio sighs and closes his book.

"Not doing it, kiddo. Because the weight of the story isn't whether it's resolved with a promise of marriage or not at the end, it's about whether or not the Prince would truly ever be devoted to her in a way she deserves," young Gladio said. "She deserves someone who would treat her like what she deserves, which is a strong woman who can contribute to her own life, and who cares about the world around her. You deserve that too."

Iris rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Do you have to turn everything into a lesson, big bro?"

"I mean, you could have it from me now or Jared later," he pointed out. Then he grinned. "Or you could make bad boyfriend choices and dad and I can do the whole 'intimidate them by making sure we're sharpening swords when they show up to pick you up for a date. Bet we could even talk Ignis into it. Or Prompto with one of those guns he uses."

Iris huffed, probably in annoyance, and went back to her book. And with that, the memory faded, and they were just in the campsite again, back by the fire.

This was an amusing scene, but Lerith could see easily how Gladio loved his sibling. The elf briefly wondered if he had any siblings, but pushed the thought away. He could think on that later. He moved over to try and see the book, before looking at the young lady. There was so much to indicate that she was related to Gladio and he was glad they had each other.

He grins at the interaction, but the man's point was good. Better to be a strong person that cared about more than themselves than superficial. Superficial was how you got people like Lerith's owner.

He turned, as though to make a remark, only to find himself seated in the chair at the campfire again. The moogle was in his lap and Lerith sat there for a long moment, stunned into silence.

Then, [you seem like a good brother. And you had a good hairstyle,] to which Lerith ran his hand against his own hair. He'd have to get it cut soon, that much was clear. [You use sword? You are a warrior like the Iron Bull?]

There's a lot of signs there, and Gladio looks at him, trying to understand. Except it's easier here, isn't it? Easier in a space that is a connection of minds. Why shouldn't he understand? Sure it's not flawless, but he gets the gist.

Or enough of it to make a guess.

He nods toward the sword waiting nearby.

"Use that one a lot, though it didn't come with me. Used it to prove I'm capable of protecting the ones I care about."

Lerith's not going to touch the sword. He's not a fan of blades really, and he wants to bask in the wholesomeness of the memory of Gladio's sister. He looks to Gladio's arms and nods. Despite not being able to see the muscles, most uniforms like that were made to fit the person. That meant the sleeves had to fit muscles - muscles that had to lift a huge weapon.

[I think you and Iron Bull would get along great,] he signs, trying to keep it simpler. It was difficult. [What kind of warrior are you in your world?]

Mercenary maybe? Or a soldier?

"Bull and I get on," Gladio agrees, smirking to himself as he looks into the fire.

Oh man did they get on.

"I'm a body guard, and a hunter."

Lerith grins at that. If Bull got along with Gladio, that had to mean he was a good human. Being a former spy meant not many, if any, bad guys got past him. So even with the word 'hunter', the elf only tenses for a moment, then relaxes. Surely not a slave hunter.

[My name Lerith. Bull and I are from the same world. He calls me Signs.]

He looks to the fire, the flames reflected in his sunny colored eyes. This was a good place. He liked it here. [I am glad I was brought here, Gladio.] He would have to figure out a Sign-name for the warrior. Maybe that's what he could do while he was trapped with everyone else.

"Sorry, from that one I only got 'bull' and 'you'," Gladio said with a shrug.

The thing was that he didn't much know what to do with all of these words he only half understood. Communication was harder than he'd expected.

Lerith pinches the bridge of his nose to keep the frustration down. He hated this problem the most. Even with the collar gone and his vocal cords free, they were still damaged so he couldn't speak. He rubs his hand over a scarred cheek.

This time when he moved, he did more miming instead of signing, or spelled out letters in the air with a finger. [Lerith. You good warrior, brother.] The elf stood, and gently set the moogle in his warm spot left. He knew what the doll meant, that was clear in the care he took to make sure it was... comfortable.

He went to Gladio, extending a hand out like a handshake. Maybe he'd wake up soon, but for the time he was here with the small insight to family bonding, Lerith was glad this was a good place.

This time he gets it, more or less. But he takes the offered hand and clasps it firmly.

"I do my best. It's what I'm meant to be after all. A protector of others."

Oh, firm grip. Definitely a warrior. The words Gladio says confirms what Lerith's already thinking about him being a good protector. Maybe if he remembered any of this in the waking world, he'd make friends with the guy. Drawing his hand back, the elf looks around the campsite again.

Anything he said had to be mimed out, or simple. But Gladio was smart and seemed to piece together what he was saying at least. He pointed to the fishing pole, eyes lighting up in recognition. [Fishing,] he started with, then furrowed his brow. How to explain that it reminded him of Noctis? There wasn't really a word that fit the man's name.

"Fishing," Gladio agreed with a nod. "Noctis is a fucking addict. His pole."

And he's always torn between bored and happy about it.

Fishing, yes! He nodded and pointed to Gladio, but there was no way to indicate that he knew Noctis as well. If he knew of the man's status as a king he might indicate a crown, but to Lerith, he was just another man trapped in Temba.

[Noctis friend.] The signs probably don't make any sense to Gladio, with the language barrier and the dwindling light of the fire. Spying a burning branch sticking out, the elf grabs it to mark on the rock they were upon.

[noctis. friend.]

Yeah, Noctis was doing a lot to hide his status, and Gladio, for all that he called Noctis 'Princess', was in agreement.

Lerith reaches for the fire and scratches his message on the stone, and Gladio smiles.

"He could use more. And lucky for him, he doesn't even need someone to carry a conversation. You gotta watch him, make sure he doesn't fall asleep on you. Unless he's fishing. Then he's awake."

There's a look of concern and surprise. Noctis fell asleep? Maybe he didn't get enough sleep. He seemed alert when he met the dark haired man, but like Gladio said, he had been fishing. So he grins and nods.

[I watch,] and then pointed to the scratch of 'noctis' on the stone between them. The fire was almost out by now, and the elf took a seat back in the canvas chair again. [Thank you, memory. Conversation.] Lerith mimes as best as he can, pointing to the moogle to indicate the memory, making 'C' with his hands to move back and forth between them for conversation.

"Of course. Not like I could deny the former, or refuse the latter."

And that's just what he was bound to here. His eyes turn to the fire and it finally guts out. And further away, lined by stars, is the door. The exit was now open.

Even as the fire finally goes completely out, there's a glimmer from where Lerith's eyes are, like a cat's in the dark. Elves in Thedas could see easier in dim and dark lighting. He gets up from the chair carefully and works his way around the camp to follow the stars of the door.

With only a slightly lingering glance in Gladio's direction, the elf heads through the door silently, shutting it quietly in his wake. Quiet entrance, quiet exit.

Echo blinks, rubbing at his face as he sits up in the chair he finds himself in. It doesn't take long for him to be fully alert, but everything here is quiet. Restful. Being warmed by the fire is enough to take away the tension building in his shoulders, and he finally notices Gladio sitting there.

"...I think I may need to get up and walk around," he replies, taking another look around before leaning forward to stand. "Looks like you do this often."

"Yeah," Gladio agrees, his attention still on the fire. It's an acknowledgement and an answer. "Often enough. Used to do it a lot on the trip. Then even more when the Dark came."

"The Dark?" He doesn't mean to embody his namesake, but Echo's confusion stemming from the lack of information is palpable.

"The Long Dark. Almost a decade where there was no sun, no moon, no stars. No light but what we could make. And daemons, everywhere."

And it's as simple as that. Or as complex.

While he's standing, Echo leans back a bit. "Nothing? That's impossible..." The thought doesn't keep him still, either, slowly pacing around the campsite to look around. "What was the cause of it?"

"And yet," Gladio says, gesturing up at the complete lack of stars in the sky. "Right now, it's noon. It doesn't stop, man. It doesn't stop."

And can't stop for a while.

Aside from it being pitch black in the middle of the day, Gladio's matter-of-fact response adds to the campsite's peaceful dissonance. Probably not on purpose, Echo thinks, but it's still kind of off-putting.

Walking around kind of helps takes his mind off of it; his attention falls onto the items he passes, soon falling upon the katana that's hard to miss.

"One of yours?"

"Yeah," Gladio agrees, nodding. "Started as Cor's. Then it was held by the Blademaster for a long time. Only after I defeated him was it granted to me."

And Cor, lucky him, hadn't asked for it back.

"Won fair and square," Echo murmurs with a light smirk, all in good humor.

As far as he can tell, it's well cared for. While he is usually better about not touching things that don't belong to him, he can't help but be a little curious about the weight of the katana. So of course he tries to take hold of the sword - not completely flipping it over by the hilt, but just tilting it toward him, away from its resting spot.

Exactly. But it's a good thing Echo doesn't try and take the whole thing beyond the tilt, because honestly? The blade is almost as long as Gladio is tall. It's not your standard katana.

Of course nothing here is standard, not the way the fire dims until it's gone, not the absolute darkness, and not the way that the light rises once more around them, only they aren't sitting by a fire. No, instead a scene forms, with Echo as the sole watcher. Here the only Gladio present is a younger man, with one of his facial scars missing, as well as the one that cut across his chest.

And there, before a crystal barrier, an exchange takes place. When it passes the young Gladio steps into the opened cavern, fading into mist and leaving behind the older Gladio, looking toward another barrier.

"He's not wrong. My father would have forbidden me from this path. Perhaps he even would have been right. Too rash, to risky, too likely to fail in my duty. But he didn't know what I knew."

He still isn't used to how these Calibrations work. How they suddenly take hold with memories he shouldn't be looking into. When the scenery changes, Echo blinks, staring at the cavern and its hanging decorations where there used to be an open sky.

It doesn't last long. Once the cavern's entrance is unsealed, he pays attention to the exchange; advice from the elder to one who was younger, a severe warning for the risk this version of Gladio is taking.

Failure can be fatal. The man isn't wrong. But it doesn't stop young Gladio from going through with it.

"Was this a test?" Echo asks this seconds after the older Gladio reappears. "What did you know? What was in there?"

"Yes," the older Gladio says with a nod. It was very much a test. "Through there is the one we know as the Blademaster. An ancient spirit, possibly even the man my entire genetic line is descended from, over a hundred generations back. Who would judge the capability of a warrior. And for me, how fitting I was for my fate. Only one man ever survived that, Cor back there who was warning me away. Because everyone else who tried the guy died."

Cor had been a rash, foolish kid, and had impressed the Blademaster, getting away with his life, heavily injured, and losing his sword in the process.

"But I knew something. That I couldn't fail again."

His eyes are on the other barrier. The one they need to pass to see the fight.

"I risked everything this day."

Echo's brow sets as he mulls over these words, siting the differences between the tests he's gone through in comparison. This he doesn't fully understand, but he learns how deep the personal ties are to Gladio - sees the determination in facing the danger that awaits him.

So like the younger, the former ARC Trooper also turns to face the barrier, stepping toward it to see what comes next.

When Echo steps forward it isn't the older Gladio there anymore. Instead it's the young Gladio that steps from the cavern only to be met with a massive bridge, framed with strange rocks twisted with crystal and glowing blue energy. Leading up to the bridge and along the whole length are scattered blades. Hundreds and hundreds of swords, rusted and chipped and worn, the lost weapons of failed challengers. Those that challenged the being before him and had not walked away.

And the figure is an interesting one, a masculine form that towers over even Gladio, with only one arm and tattered clothing over a combination of plate and chainlink armor. He stands at the end of the bridge, his form slightly transparent, ghostly, his whole essence surrounded by shivering and waving light, an aurora power around his form.

As Gladio approached he spoke, clearly young and cocky, "I'm here."

"Brandishing your brute force?" the figure asked as it turned to regard Gladio, his face masked, his eyes glowing points of red-pink light.

"Yeah. Let's see if you can handle it," Gladio said as he summoned his weapon.

And from there the battle was joined, intense and neither edge truly seems to hold the fullness of the fight's intensity. There's a trading of words along with blows ~~to 13:24~~. In the course of the exchange hte one-armed swordsman forms another arm of light, and summons to his hands the very blade Echo had touched to arrive. Once more the battle was joined from there.

Of course this was when things went against Gladio. The massive, ghostly figure blocked a blow from Gladio, immediately turning it into an attack, cutting right across the standing scar on cutting vertically over Gladio's face. The new one bled sluggishly, perhaps would have done more had Gladio not immediately pulled a glowing blue bottle from his pocket and crushed it, the wound sealing enough to spare him blood in his eyes. From there it only continued, more and more intense blows being traded, blasts of fire from the ghostly enemy, bursts of energy rays, and motion so fast that it's a wonder that Gladio dodges them.

But dodges them he does, mostly successfully. He's left singed and cut, even manages to barely dodge a slash rising cross his body, the cut ultimately only with the tip of the blade. Which is lucky, given there was clearly force enough to cut a man in two, leaving a deep wound that is only barely addressed by another bottle of the glowing fluid, and which leaves behind a massive scar cutting his tattoo. But at last, with one final, mighty blow, the ghostly form goes to its knees.

And from there, well, is it surprising that a brash young swordsman has to run his mouth? ~~to 16:20~~. It's not bad that he's proud, probably. Especially since he's walking away with his life, the scars, and an important souvenir in the blade. Though nothing compares to the clear strength he's gained from this. Strength that leaves him walking away with a smile before the area goes dark until the campfire returns.

Already it feels like trespassing into a sacred space, like a graveyard that gives plenty of warning to those who try to walk this path. Echo sees that Gladio is up for the challenge, hearing it in the way he speaks to the much larger opponent waiting for his arrival.

He is no stranger to the tone; most clones cadets feel the same way whenever they think they can ace a practice simulation on the first try. The young man has skill and spirit on his side, but every blow traded with the one-armed swordsman is met with equal force. He isn't even doing anything, but he feels metal against metal, connecting roughly before sliding away, swinging outward before returning with heavy-handed slashing.

There's an eeriness that possessed the swordsman's voice, one that bores its way deep into the heart and mind. The fear of failing, of being unworthy to fulfill the role resonates with Echo, but that doesn't keep Gladio from backing down from the challenge. He winces when the new blade cut past his head, leaving behind a wound that could have been fatal. Every other blow that follows is given just as much attention from the clone, holding his breath until the final hit is dealt, finally coming to an end.

Acknowledgement of his faults in the light of victory has a satisfying conclusion to learning how the blade comes into Gladio's possession. "Spoken like someone who's worthy," Echo says as everything shifts back to the way it was. While it can be read as a joke, he's fairly genuine in what he means by the comment. "You proved yourself. You deserved it."

Gladio smirks, leaning back in his seat. It's not the first time the tale has been told by this fire. Just the most recent. And he was proud of it.

"Thank you. I needed to prove to myself that I was strong enough to protect him. That's all that mattered."

He takes a step away from the katana, leaving it be now that he has seen its story.

Echo's brow lifts slightly. "And you're still protecting him now?"

Somewhere down in the darkness a door has arrived and is waiting to open. But he can't help that.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

It's rhetoric that holds a fiery defiance, brimming with steadfast pride and determination.

Considering Gladio's reply, he eventually nods. "Spoken like a true soldier," he says with a faint chuckle.

He figures it's time to quit while he's ahead, willing take another break around the fire until it goes out. Wondering if it really is okay to just let it burn until then.

Damn right it does. Even after another ten years Gladio remained proud and determined for this.

"I've had some that suggest I'm not a good soldier. Not that I care. I just want to be the right sort of protector."

"There are always going to be naysayers." Spoken like someone who knows how that goes. "They can keep their opinions. Whatever you're doing now is what matters the most."

"You're not wrong there. Lucis was definitely prone to them. People just want to tell you the things you want aren't right, or won't work, or something like that. Because they think they have a right to an opinion."

He's glad that Echo gets it though. Dude's a real bro.

"They're welcome to it. They just need to remember you never asked."

Echo's been on both sides of it. He's been vocal about things needing to be a certain way and calling attention to what needs to be done, but he's found that's all he can do in the circumstances he's involved in. Gladio understands, so he doesn't worry as much about it getting through.

Surely they can go on about this for a while. But once it feels late enough, Echo will suggest that they turn in and maybe try to sleep off the rest of this weird reality.

Yeah, it's nice to just have company, even if it's quieter. With the request he nods and heads for the tent, gesturing for Echo to join him.

They won't even have the chance to properly fall asleep before the hour in this place passes. Time for them to wake up.

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[Open] Calibrating Body and Mind

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iris has the best mythical creature taste because moogles are <3

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this first memory goes through 11:56

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