Gladio Amacita (
ziedrich_bearer) wrote in
revivalproject2023-06-09 09:48 am
[Calibrations] My Heart Is An Armory
WHO: Gladiolus Amicita, OTA
WHERE: Gladio's Calibration Room
WHAT: Calibrations
WHEN: June 10th to July 10th
WARNINGS: One possible memory set involves death of a father.
Another year, another really creepy sleep meeting. Who would have guessed it? At least Gladio's room isn't nearly as large this year as it was last year. It's still a large space though, a room made of black marble shot through with white veins, with walls of white stone accented with gold and gray. Really, there's a whole color theme going on, with nearly everything being in one of those four shades: black, white, silver, gold. Honestly, it fits well with the complex uniform of the same colors that Gladiolus was wearing as he moved through the space, inspecting the contents.
What it's definitely got a lot of contents to inspect. There is no denying that this room is an armory of sorts, the walls lined with swords, shields, armor, even guns. Many things are almost identical in appearance, many of them marked with motifs of skulls, or a figure surrounded by blades. Clearly some sort of important iconography going on, right down to the subtle repetition of it on Gladio's own uniform.
"Haven't been here in years," Gladio observed as he moved up and down the racks of weapons. He did pause as he looked through some displays though, inspecting what he found there the best he can. "Feels like an eternity."
Perhaps it had been. Some weapons, here and there, seem rusted or broken, when viewed from the corner of the eye. But that's something else, something unimportant. Don't think about it too much, it's probably better that way.
Gladio moves through the rows and racks to a table with some specific weapons laid out on it, and he pauses, looking at them. Among them are a gun suitable to a smaller hand, a sword that almost looks to have engine parts in it, a large silvery spear, and a large shieldcw: death of a father emblazoned with an eagle. Nearby them rests a metal arm, perhaps a prosthetic.
"Haven't seen any of these in a long while either. Wonder why they're here. Don't think any of them were ever armory pieces. Personal arms never ended up in the royal stores after all."
With a sigh he turns his attention back to the stores here. "Not that the royal stores aren't good quality. Can you believe punishment duty was counting this stuff?"
[OOC: For Gladio any memory taken will results in two segments of memory playing out related to similar content. An alternative exit is to talk to interrogate Gladio about the whys of the armory, punishments, or why he'd even have access to it.]
WHERE: Gladio's Calibration Room
WHAT: Calibrations
WHEN: June 10th to July 10th
WARNINGS: One possible memory set involves death of a father.
Another year, another really creepy sleep meeting. Who would have guessed it? At least Gladio's room isn't nearly as large this year as it was last year. It's still a large space though, a room made of black marble shot through with white veins, with walls of white stone accented with gold and gray. Really, there's a whole color theme going on, with nearly everything being in one of those four shades: black, white, silver, gold. Honestly, it fits well with the complex uniform of the same colors that Gladiolus was wearing as he moved through the space, inspecting the contents.
What it's definitely got a lot of contents to inspect. There is no denying that this room is an armory of sorts, the walls lined with swords, shields, armor, even guns. Many things are almost identical in appearance, many of them marked with motifs of skulls, or a figure surrounded by blades. Clearly some sort of important iconography going on, right down to the subtle repetition of it on Gladio's own uniform.
"Haven't been here in years," Gladio observed as he moved up and down the racks of weapons. He did pause as he looked through some displays though, inspecting what he found there the best he can. "Feels like an eternity."
Perhaps it had been. Some weapons, here and there, seem rusted or broken, when viewed from the corner of the eye. But that's something else, something unimportant. Don't think about it too much, it's probably better that way.
Gladio moves through the rows and racks to a table with some specific weapons laid out on it, and he pauses, looking at them. Among them are a gun suitable to a smaller hand, a sword that almost looks to have engine parts in it, a large silvery spear, and a large shield
"Haven't seen any of these in a long while either. Wonder why they're here. Don't think any of them were ever armory pieces. Personal arms never ended up in the royal stores after all."
With a sigh he turns his attention back to the stores here. "Not that the royal stores aren't good quality. Can you believe punishment duty was counting this stuff?"
[OOC: For Gladio any memory taken will results in two segments of memory playing out related to similar content. An alternative exit is to talk to interrogate Gladio about the whys of the armory, punishments, or why he'd even have access to it.]

Included is link for first memory, it has subtitles. I can still summarize if you want, just message
Which is of course when the title comes out. Both of them. Sure this is obviously a younger Gladio and Noctis, but it won’t be hard for Link to connect this vision to older Noctis should they meet. Here is a king, and his protector.
And when that memory fades another comes. Once again the time difference is spelled out in apparent age, and this time Gladio stands with the same white clad man who also looks older and now sports a short beard and mustache. They are together in a fancy room painted in pale blue and accented in white that speaks to wealth. But the windows are boarded over and the lights are very low in the room.
“It will work,” Gladiolus was insisting with intensity. “Ten years we’ve been working toward this, ten years with the greatest surviving minds and Ignis’s burning intent. And you’re advising caution now? Weren’t you the one that tried to kill the gods before they could bestow power on Noctis, just to save your sister’s life?”
Ravus sighs and shakes his head. “I do not advise caution for the path we have chosen. As you rightly indicate, I fought fate as hard for Lunafreya as you do for your king. My caution I offer for another reason, Amicitia. I see what drives you, and it is not merely the devotion and brotherly care mixed with defiance of fate that drives Scientia, or the need to rectify the sins of his bloodline in Argentum.”
Gladio growls and pushes to his feet at that.
“He’s like a brother to me too. I was raised knowing I would die to keep him from all harm. If that means dying to kill gods and fate alike, then so be it. But I won’t let him be a lamb to the slaughter.”
Ravus laughs and shakes his head.
“He has proven he is no mere lamb. The sacrifice he chose when we saved Scientia from his own makes that clear. And you dodge my point with the artful grace of all nobility such as we are. But do not think you can hide your heart behind your title, Shield of the Chosen King. For there are two outcomes to this battle against Bahamut, and while we have won the Abomination himself to our side, your great battle is not against the gods or the crystal or even the fate you see before him. Your battle shall be harder, and that is what I warn you against.”
Gladio glares, hands clenched into fists at his sides. But something in his face says he knows what is coming next. What Ravus will say, and he doesn’t want it said.
“If he dies as fate calls for, the world is healed and you lose him. If he dies and does not defeat fate we are all doomed and you lose him.”
“He won’t die. I won’t let it happen.”
“And still you will lose him,” Ravus counters, but his look is pitying now. “You will lose him with each day you stand at his side as he ruled and rebuilds the world as the True King of Light. You will die as he finds a new bride and binds his life to hers. You will do your duty and die a little as you know you must account for his heirs and so you must have your own. There is no victory that secures what your heart desires.”
Gladio scoffs at that.
“Like I haven’t known that for years. It doesn’t matter. As long as he’s alive that’s all I need.”
Ravus offered a shrug, and the memory fades.
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That thought soon passes, though, as he watches the confrontation unfold. One that stops short of real violence, even if the threat hangs over everything. There's a faint flicker of surprise, as he hears how they address Noctis - your majesty.
Gladio's royal charge. He hadn't realised.
Then there's the shift to the second memory, and Link is...confused. The man in white was an enemy before, but now - years later - he seems to be an ally? One who is trying to give Gladio counsel? The web of relationships here is something complex, something beyond Link's ability to understand.
"You fear losing him," Link says, as the memory ends. It's not a statement of judgement. It's one of understanding.
Link knows exactly what it means to fail. To lose someone you care about.
He left Zelda to fight the Calamity alone. It wasn't his choice to do so, but he did.
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"Ravus is right," Gladiolus says. And he looks older and far more tired. "The Noctis here, he's from another version of our world. The only way I will ever be able to embrace the man I love is in the echo of him. He's not my King, I am not his Shield. And so we can merely be Gladio and Noct, like he will never have and I will never get."
He looks almost annoyed.
"Ravus will be right."
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Though there's another way he's lucky. He knows what it's like to have your life dictated by fate...but there's something painful about Gladio's fate in particular.
"...I'm sorry." Perhaps he should tell Gladio to ignore fate, to do what he wants anyway. And yet he can't do that. Link might have thrown out much of the norms and expectations that bound him when he emerged from the Shrine of Resurrection, but he was still a Knight. He still knew that duty wasn't something that could just be set aside. Not when the lives of so many depended on it.
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"As am I," Gladiolus says with a sigh. But he runs his hands over the uniform he wore now. "The Shield of the King, the head of the Crownsguard. His life is in my hands. Every scar I bear I gained for him. And I don't regret it. So long as he will be happy I will find happiness just knowing he'll get to live. He will get to love."
He shakes his head.
"It's the duty I was born for."
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He has the same duty, for Zelda.
(Though duty isn't the only reason. He wants to protect her for her. Not just her royal blood or the sealing power she possesses. Maybe once in that time he still doesn't remember, it was just about duty. But not anymore - not after everything they've been though.)
He looks out at the other weapons. They'll show him other memories, he's sure now. But he's not reaching out to see another one just yet. He waits - perhaps for some kind of sign. Maybe to see if there's one Gladio wants him to see.
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But the memories were enough. A door is forming behind Gladio, one that opens out onto more black and gray marble. Link could leave, if he wanted.
"He wouldn't want anyone to know what he is. He just gets to be a man here. Please."
Surely he could trust the honor of another knight.
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(He doesn't think on how a similar weight dragged him down, before the Calamity. Made him clam up, turned him from someone quiet and of few words into someone who didn't dare say a word. You don't have to be royal to have a position that comes with expectations.)
So he nods. There was never any question that Link would agree, really.
And leaves through the door, giving a quick "Bye" before he goes.
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