black-minded light searcher
non-feeling life drop
your first memory is that of the shining blue lights of terra. the entire planet, or rather what's left that is still somewhat hospitable, is blue all over, as far as the eye can see. you were made here on a planet that's been dying for thousands of years. made is the only way to describe it, because you are just here one day, as simple as it sounds. you have no memories from before you woke up. for a while all you have is a purpose: to cause calamity for those on gaia for the sake of terra. you can't say you truly care about terra and whether it lives or not, talks of long spanning history and destiny and soul collecting aside. but this goal makes you unique, nothing like the blank slates you are surrounded by on a day to day basis. it's something to hold onto so that you won't be blank like them. you feel disgusted just by sharing a name, an identity, a race with them. you don't want to be like them; you're much better than that. you almost don't know why garland even bothered to make them in the first place.
since you are meant to be a harbinger of death for an entire planet, you were born with power already at your fingertips, unlike all the other genomes, who may as well be more like decorations than anything useful. you could wipe them all out if you wanted. it wouldn't take much, barely a lift of your hand. you don't actually do anything of the sort, but it's a thought, a thing that gives shape to what you are capable of. death is all you knew since birth, and it will stick with you throughout your life. becoming comfortable with the idea is effortless, hardly something worth thinking about. still, there are times when you can't stand the differences between you and your would-be siblings. you are like a glowing jewel hidden down in the dark, your shine overshadowed and only known to you.
clearly, garland did not see the same greatness in you that you saw in yourself. when another comes along, apparently just as unique as you if not more so according to garland, your insides lock up stiff, almost as if you were stone. anger, white hot like nothing you have ever felt prior, furls deep in your chest. why would garland make another when he has you? what was the point in making another when you were perfect? you stew in your anger for as long as you can stand until you can't take it anymore. there can't be another like you; you won't allow it.
so you take him, your brother, your better in every way, and throw him out of terra, toss him into gaia to be forgotten about, left to rot for all you care. anything that happens to him after that is not your concern. you don't stick around much longer after leaving him behind.
you can't go back to terra, not that you even want to. terra never really was more than just a place for you, and you hold no special feelings for it or anyone there. that being said, you could go lifetimes without seeing garland's face ever again, but that's not enough. it's not enough to just throw zidane out, securing your spot as the most perfect and powerful of your kind. throwing out something so prized to garland is not enough. that anger which made you take zidane away still trembles within you.
you cast aside your identity as a genome, tear that name away from you like something disgusting and offensive, and you begin to make plans.
when all we really want is to be found
never alone, but always lonesome
you could say, for the sake of origins because every story worth telling starts somewhere, that your story began thousands of years ago with the dying terra failing to absorb gaia. but you were not there for that, and it's too far back to qualify as a good beginning for you. of course, there is the option of saying your beginning was your literal beginning, but you had yet to really do anything at that time so it's not a very exciting choice. your tale has multiple points where you could say that it officially starts for, a good spot for the curtain to rise up for you to take your place in the narrative. the destruction of madain sari, where garland practically handwrapped his defeat and handed it to you on a platter. abandoning zidane in gaia, leaving him with a destiny he would never fulfill. the twisting of queen brahne, where you whispered power and secrets into her open ears, creating catalysts for war whilst the world went on unaware. any of those would be decent starting points, but they're not good enough for you.
the best place to say your story truly begins, where you finally step out from the shadows and into the light, is burmecia. the rain of burmecia is a fitting backdrop to prelude your grand debut.
you've spent 10 years playing a chess game with garland. your every move is calculated; you dare not touch a piece without considering all potential outcomes first. there's no such thing as being too prepared, and your plans need to be nothing less than perfect. how else were you supposed to show garland just how he had wronged you? how else would you show him just how great you were? your revenge would be thorough, that much you could be sure of.
you almost can't believe garland would make you privy to his weakness, his fear. it's nearly comical enough to be considered destiny, as if fate was pushing you along toward this goal. everything you've done, every move you've made, the growth of your influence, has all been for acquiring the eidolons so you could rid the world of garland. however, you also have to play as though you are still keeping your role as angel of death, just for a while, long enough to acquire that which will remove garland from your story. queen brahne with her army of manufactured black mages is doing that job perfectly for you, even if you do loathe your own creations, loathe how similar they are to garland's flock of soulless genomes. you don't plan on keeping them around for longer than they are needed, their usefulness to you much shorter than their lifespans. they're just a means to an end, and what you need is war and the eidolons.
you allow brahne to have her fun, to yell and stomp her giant, ugly feet all over gaia as if she actually has a voice in all this, as if her part was much more than it actually is. the great big fool doesn't see much beyond her own view of the world and her desires, and it's only a matter of time before she gets too big for her shoes. you even let her keep the eidolons that you helped extract from the princess. the eidolon you desire is much grander than anything that was taken from inside garnet. you don't need a whole troupe when one would suit you fine. one to help you complete your revenge against garland. one by one the other cities fall to her, to the power you've let her have for the moment, her greed and ego growing with each death she causes until she decides that she's too good for your help. you only wish you could've seen queen brahne's grotesque face up close as you pull the rug out from underneath her, taking her life and her most powerful eidolon with you. you fly away from the iifa tree on your silver dragon, the sky full of smoke and the scent of death, one step closer to your end goal.
you don't wait for long to continue your plans, barely a moment passing between her death and your next move. with bahamut set upon alexandria, you watch the destruction from the sidelines, your hand poised and ready to make a new move in your game with garland. bahamut doesn't stand a chance against the might of the newly summoned alexander, and you can't help the smile that overcomes your face, your arms raising into the air in celebration of your triumph, the invincible ready to claim alexander for your own, the ultimate prize. except it doesn't end up that way, not with garland's interference. you can't say all your plans haven't had some kind of block along the way, only for you to win out in the end regardless of minor, trivial issues. between zidane and his little group following your steps everywhere you go and now garland deciding to take the stage and make his first real play against you, you can't say the two are really very different in comparison over how much they really affect you. garland may have taken away the eidolon you were really shooting for, but there are still more than just alexander.
extracting the eidolons from the little summoner girl doesn't go as well as it did with garnet, but you find something invaluable to you even if you didn't manage to take any more eidolons. trance is the one thing garland said you were not capable of, the one thing truly separating how powerful you were from what zidane was apparently capable of. it was deemed impossible for you from day one because you had no soul to draw that strength from. all you need is a strong soul, and there are many lying in wait inside the iifa tree.
terra hasn't changed a single bit in the years you've been gone, the scenery just as blue as it was 10 years ago, just as drab and unimpressive as you remember. you feel no sense of home here, only disgust born from bad memories you could do without.
when the time comes and you finally confront garland after all your plans and all the years gone by, you can't help but feel like laughing in his face, showing him the proof of your triumph. the power of your trance flows through your entire body. you can feel your awakened strength in your fingertips. you feel invincible, like you could hold both terra and gaia in the palms of your hands and no one could stand against you. this is you at your absolute best, at your most perfect, your shine reaching out past anything that tries to dull it. but it's not enough.
your face grows cold at garland's words, his last attempts to dull you, to make you out into something you know you're not. it's laughable for him to say that you can die. you! you when you've reached your most glorious point, when you've come to bring garland down off his pedestal, when your revenge is so close to being complete at last. all your waiting, all the things you wanted to prove, not just to garland but to everyone, and you're going to die. you can't die. you won't die. garland is a liar. you'll make him into a liar by not dying. one last show of how powerful you truly are, one last victory over him that he can take with him to the grave. you kick garland and watch him fall to his death, laughing all the while. to think, you were apparently like all those things you despised, your own creations and garland's.
you won't allow it. you won't allow the world to go on without you. why should anyone else be allowed to live if you're going to die?
i didn't want this thing called living
i never wanted this thing called living
your body lands inside the iifa tree, nestling itself among the overgrown roots. your trance faded away during the fall, leaving back to your original self. you're tattered from head to toe, your clothes ripped and dirty. had it been any other time, that alone would have made you angry. now, though, with you being a silent spectator to gaia assimilating into terra just outside, you can't really think much about your appearance.
the world seems oddly quiet around you, even though you know perfectly well it isn't. you reflect, just for a moment, on your current state.
how pathetic. how disgraceful. how awful. you would laugh at yourself if you had the strength to do so. you've been a fool all along, a fool chasing after something that was never yours to have no matter what you did. death followed nearly every step you took, but you never really thought about what that meant, not until you knew you were just as susceptible. was there ever really anything special when it came to you? laying here and listening to the world end outside, you're starting to think you never were special at all, not in the way you believed. or at all, to be perfectly blunt.
time ticks by. all you can do is wait. and when the right time comes, with the last vestiges of the magic you have left in you, you cast one more spell, your arms shaking as you raise them up for what's likely to be the last time. the least you could do in light of everything awful you've caused is to make sure zidane and his companions don't die in vain like you. it's better than nothing. your arms come back down; you can barely hold them up anymore.
your death was never something you had ever considered. it was the one thing you had never accounted for in any version of your plans, an action you had never thought possible up until a short while ago. how fitting it is for you, the villain of this tale, to die alone after being stamped down to your lowest point. you performed your part perhaps a little too well in that regard. isn't the villain always fated to die no matter what while the heroes live on to celebrate their victory? you've read enough and are aware enough of yourself to know that your options are gone. the board has been cleared away with you as the loser. there are no more moves to consider, no pawns to move as you please. you have nothing. you're too tired to think of a way out anyway, even if you truly did want it.
this is the first time in your life you've ever truly felt this kind of weakness, so visceral that you have nothing else but it. the only solace you can offer yourself, though you do not deserve it, is that you won't have to bear that feeling for much longer. you can hardly move; it's only a matter of time until you stop altogether.
you deserve to die. your life never had any real purpose besides what was dictated for you from birth. striking out against garland did little to dissuade from that. you played right into his plans intentionally to suit your own agenda, and to what end? your carefully laid plans mean nothing now. it's only after the fact that you realize that there might have been another way, that perhaps you didn't need to do half the things you can never take back. perhaps you could have just walked away all those years ago and found your own purpose, your own reason to exist. you suppose dying regrets also fit the narrative you've woven for yourself. you suppose that one day, even if you had decided to do nothing against garland, you would have ended up here with your choices reflected back at you.
the iifa tree roars and rumbles around you as you wait to die, its roots and branches twisting and thrashing outside. it doesn't really matter if the tree or your injuries are what do you in. you expect to die; you want to die. what you don't expect is for zidane to come for you in your final moments. he truly is dumb to not take the salvation you'd given him when he had the chance, leaving with his companions and knowing he'd bested you at last, but you can't bring yourself to shove that fact in his face, can't bring yourself to release that poison from your tongue. it's mostly an afterthought, and you're too tired to throw out the insults, however well deserving they might be.
he sits with you, expecting you to just get up and go when you barely have the strength to talk, much less the will to live much longer. what would you do even if you did get out? you have no idea, and you're tired of making plans. you have nowhere to go back to anyway. terra was never home to you, and you destroyed it. no one on the whole of gaia would take you in or accept you after what you've done to them. whether it be life or death, being alone is the only option available to you. zidane being here doesn't do much to change that.
your head falls to the side, your eyes slipping closed, zidane's voice getting further and further away. you're so tired. too tired to live, too tired to try, too tired to do anything besides lay here and let yourself go. you haven't let yourself truly rest in years. maybe now is a good time to start, just before death finally comes to claim you.
not having to do anything anymore sounds kind of nice, actually.