#FFXVverse!SafayRoth
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"Hey, my whole family is fine supervising themselves."
"I beg to differ, young prince." The general sniffed. "I've been witness to your father, the king, and one of your... uncles... bickering over whether or not it was fair to split a peanut butter cup but cutting out a circle in the middle instead of cutting the entire thing in half. Bickering, may I add, which was ended by your mother, the queen, simply plucking said peanut butter cup from both their hands and eating it herself."
#IC#novuscaelum#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#but also just straight-up crack#((lfjlsfjdf I appreciate this))#((it was going to be a serious reply and then it... was not))#((I am with Luna on this solution btw))#((...and it was Prompto of course it was Prompto))#offline queue
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Dear Anyone, but the anyone is Luna. I cheated and I have no regrets 😎
Letters meme | accepting but forever slow
I never realized how different your smile has become.
Such a strange thought to have, and stranger still to attempt putting into words. I’d seen a few of them over the years, expressions on your face which might be called a “smile”. I suppose I became used to artificial ones from nearly everyone. Forced ones from “enemies”. Cruel ones from superiors.
Yours, as I recall them, were always quite... tight. Presentable. Reserved. Something expected. Even then, they were rare.
I suppose I had simply assumed that they were your expressions. Not natural, precisely, but still to be expected. Even as I began serving you, I could not fathom anything past the tight, habitual smiles. I’m not certain that I ever remember the circumstance, too stunned to see something so altogether different--
Small, and cautious, and almost hidden. Not quite. It caught my eye, was a revelation to see...
It is nice to see you smile, Your Majesty. Of the real variety. Certainly circumstances could stand to be improved upon, but it remains a hopeful reminder.
#IC#svnsworn#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((...now I'm just doing these out of order according to what my brain points at...))#((...which probably explains why I had no idea where this was going but surprise it's not that angsty???))#((gay man talks about a beautiful woman's radiant smile... and only that lkdjkfljgf))#offline queue
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@svnsworn liked for a thing!
They happened, sometimes. They were simply to be expected, after... everything. Surviving. Living through, still trying to process the trauma, the sensory loads, the--
No amount of perfectly calm logic was going to make the nightmares feel any less real. Or stop them from lingering. He’d generally managed to wake without making noise, though he wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. Silent suffering in the very loud horror of dreams that were reality mixed with... Mixed with...
Right, best not to dig. Let it all sink, bury itself. Rubbing his face vigorously only to assure himself that he was awake, Safay let the cool quiet of the night wash over him as he dressed in pajama pants. Laughable, that. But wasn’t that was normal people did?
Ah, normal people probably weren’t so eager to sneak out to the garden just to make sure it was still there. To somewhat guiltily feel grass and dirt and stone beneath his feet. Ridiculous. Of course there was no ice, no fire. No cold gazes from gods he’d never even believed in, before...
Drifting clouds and stars filled his vision, but his mind was focused on far more distant things. A bit late to thumb through pages of regrets.
#IC#svnsworn#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((trying to get a couple of these done tonight anyway...))#((and this is a whatever you'd like it to be frankly since it got away from me))#offline queue
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❛ it was just our turn being blamed for a world we had no power in. ❜
Hozier Lyrics, Unreal Unearth Edition starters | accepting but slow
Safay remained quiet for a while, turning the idea over in his mind. There was truth to that, of course, but he felt like there was more to it. While he didn't want to dwell, and hardly wanted to spend more time looking at the past than the present, or the still-astonishing idea of the future, he had given it thought before.
"We were set up for that turn, to a point. Trained, placed; we played our parts well." It felt like a more distant past than it really was, as long as he kept it at arm's length. Tried not to let bitterness seep in...
But there was only so much one man could do. "I suppose we were simply lucky to have been either forgotten about or presumed dead." He meant that honestly, was the thing. Not that the bitterness was entirely gone, of course, but with a view of the countryside and a slow breath, humor was a great deal easier to embrace. "We made a great many errors under poor planning and the illusion of hope."
#IC#infideliis#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((fighting with words but trying for coherency...))#lookitmequeue
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❛ shit. why did you hide this? ❜
End of the World Starters | accepting but slowwwww
His initial knee-jerk response to tug his arm back and hide it was stifled, though just barely. It was Ravus, and frankly there was nothing to hide between them. Still, it's...
It would be a little embarrassing, were he still the empire's darling little wind-up general, to have such a wound to begin with. The airship landing hadn't been particularly graceful without assistance, and he'd been too occupied with trying to carry Ravus out of there and get help to notice he was bleeding, let alone--
"It's healing up." Safay didn't quite defend, aware that he had the evidence of an enormous gash nearly from his right shoulder all the way to his elbow, but it wasn't an angry red any longer. It'd been easier to keep bandaged and hidden under long sleeves and a coat, quite obviously, but that couldn't be true forever.
"Still likely to scar." It was something he'd easily come to terms with already. "Evidence of survival, isn't it?"
#IC#infideliis#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#wound cw#((when is this happening? ...that is a question))#((sometime after stealing the airship and... something something it's fine now))#offline queue
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❛ who in all these centuries has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most? ❜
Quotes That Broke Me starters | accepting but VERY SLOW
There was no hint of uncertainty in his response; just words delivered with the same sort of instinctive, easy swing as his sword. "It's difficult to assume that someone who doesn't display common humanity is ever in need of it."
What a thing for him to say. Safay was more than aware of that much, as he had always been aware of what he was considered to be: inhuman, in any number of ways. Maybe he was, technically, but most of the paperwork concerning his most specific origins had long since been destroyed. He'd presented himself as he'd been trained, as he'd been taught, what gained him praise.
Feared by most, hated by many, treated as a particularly valuable chess piece by few. Treated as human by--
No, nevermind. Nevermind.
"I doubt prayer is what anyone needs now."
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❛ i felt your absence. ❜
Quotes That Broke Me starters | accepting but VERY SLOW
"I wouldn't think you had much opportunity. You've been kept busy." Neither denial nor acknowledgement, really. Not that he was one to think that feelings they'd barely had a chance to explore had changed so abruptly--
Well. He didn't know. It was an assumption one could make. Ravus' words implied otherwise, implied that perhaps they could find themselves on the same side instead of technical enemies once again.
He'd never once been afraid to leap from airships, to stride in against battalions and cut them down. He was afraid to ask a single question of the man in front of him which might lead to a truth in rejection. Condemnation. An entire empire, a continent, could be his enemies easily, but Ravus...
Safay swallowed, trying to square his shoulders as if he were readying for battle. He... failed, somewhat. "Would you prefer my company over my absence?"
#IC#infideliis#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((...I'd been tempted to make this domestic fluff but no; must respect the angst))#lookitmequeue
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❛ the moment i knew i'd no choice but to love you. ❜
Hozier Lyrics, Unreal Unearth prompts | accepting but the slowest
Safay was relatively certain that he should not have reacted quite so immediately to the words, glad for yet another reason that he was officially a former general of the empire and there was no one around to witness the heat spreading with alarming speed over his face. More than his face; he felt it from his shoulders to his chest, which assured him it was quite obvious.
After a handful of stunned, silent seconds, he cleared his throat and made an attempt to save face. No matter how impossible. "I... should apologize for the unintentional force applied." Dry as ever, the humor, and diverting away from the deeper subject out of sheer learned instinct.
And yet... "Or I would, if I found any regret in it. Don't think you're the only one to have made that realization." Awkward, ridiculous, side-stepping directness at every turn; very much a heartfelt confession as far as he was concerned.
#IC#infideliis#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((all versions of Seph are just a little bit... yeeeeaaaah...))#offline queue
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“ i’ll be gone in a day or two ” (-shrugs-)
'80s Radio Starters - accepting but slow
The Niflheim general nodded slightly, not looking directly at the other man. It probably wasn't necessary; he'd taken great pains to be sure there were no tails, no one who shouldn't be overhearing. Even so, caution was always to be taken. Give no one any reason to be suspicious. Act accordingly.
Of course, if he were truly concerned about his own future, he likely wouldn't have tried to make contact to begin with, nevermind the reason. "Have you given it thought? The-- Proposition." All the loyalty he'd held for the empire had been bled from him, but he did still feel an obligation to the people. Namely orphaned children of fallen soldiers, ones he feared would only be used as pawns in the war at best. Forgotten or disposed of at worst, and frankly...
There'd been a rumor. About Cor. About something, someone, smuggled out of Niflheim some time ago. Safay had hoped that maybe a few children finding their way into Lucis would keep them safe, would be something he could help facilitate. Probably one of the last things he could do for anyone before he was found out.
#IC#swordofthreekings#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((...I expected something... simpler... silly me))#((no obligation to continue! this just happened))#offline queue
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The only thing that they could use for a makeshift cover is one of the general's own cape: the lengthy fabric swallows up the petite frame of the child almost comically, their pallid hands and face just peeking through, and their legs barely able to shuffle themself around. If one handed them a small blade and a lamp, they could almost resemble a tonberry. "Safay. Roth," they state, pointing at the tree-like stick figure they've drawn on paper, towering next to a lump which they then gesture at. "Number Zero-Zero-One-Four." Look at that, the young clone is daring to speak more.
It's... excruciating, in a way. He doesn't know what to do. Surely he used to do the same things as a child... didn't he?
He doesn't know. He can't know for sure, but he doesn't remember. He doubts he'd have been encouraged to do anything that wasn't somehow strategic, however, and it takes Safay a moment to decide on a course of action.
Reaching out, he supposes he's almost unreasonably gentle about trying to pay the clone on the head. He doesn't want them to flinch back, to be suspicious every time someone reaches out. That is something he remembers, and mentally pushes aside. Letting himself really see the drawing, a light sound of amusement is impossible to hold back entirely since he imagines that does look like them to anyone would may see them. "Good work. I think I'd recognize us both."
What comes after, though? What now? "We really ought to establish a name for you. Something nicer than a number." Not that he can fathom a name. He doesn't exactly have any in mind. "Since you won't... need a number anymore. But you'll need something to be called." Or maybe he's just winding up confusing them both on the matter. "Have you heard many names?"
#IC#pyrrhicpaths#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((...alright I felt compelled))#((...then it wandered off in another direction but))#offline queue
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HC + clones/Magitek, for General Roth?
Send me a word plus 'Headcanon' and I'll give a headcanon based on that word | accepting but forever slow
MTs had become an exceptionally creepy constant around the halls of every facility, on every airship, in every place Safay existed. Even not learning the truth about them (or himself) until much later, everything about their existence set him on edge. Sometimes watching the way they moved had him forcing himself not to shiver out of revulsion--
But there had been times when one moved differently, or stopped moving altogether. He hadn’t given it much more thought than something obviously going wrong with that particular one, supposing they would simply be fixed or scrapped. No big loss, after all. They weren’t human.
Shame about his curiosity, and his habit about satisfying it. Research Chief Besithia was never particularly good at keeping things wholly private in the first place, and finding paperwork was easier than it should have been. Accidentally, at first, then on purpose. Humans. Clones. Some of them developed... or redeveloped... human traits... There was no real research done, as they were indeed destroyed.
The whole thing brought about a different kind of disgust, and entirely too much digging. One paper trail lead to another, lead to the discovery that his own project-- He was part of a project. Somehow the project was scrapped, but he wasn’t. They weren’t, but they... all of the people he’d grown up with as orphans had all been killed on the battlefield... hadn’t they?
“DNA structuring irregularities”. “Irreversible mutations”. “Euthanized”.
Safay found out he was still alive because he was a failure. And more useful as a failure, having taken to the “education”, genes having been altered in just such a way to make him the perfect little general when they needed one. A failure who bore fruit after the gene altering program was scrapped in favor of Besithia’s clones.
Maybe it was some partially subconscious, misguided idea that it made them a strange kind of relation, in a way. The clone project, the clones, and himself. Maybe it was simply knowing that it wasn’t just a nightmare scenario when one of the MTs stopped and trembled and seemed to look at him; that was something, some part that somehow existed, of a person beneath, seeing him. Seeing him.
He half-expected to be “euthanized” himself, but it became clear that everything within the empire was eating itself. Rotting, collapsing, and there was no thought given to him. Fortunate, that.
With everything falling around him anyway, with the loses and expectations of greater loses ahead, he collected the ones he could. The MTs that acted oddly, the ones that moved differently. He didn’t know how to help, if he could help, but--
He knew he could try. He knew he could take them in an airship no one would miss, surely.
#OOC#cw: death mention#long post#whoops#accidentally a drabble!#inbox meme response#pyrrhicpaths#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((...I do think about Safay accidentally adopting himself an entire family every so often...))#((this is the bare basic version since I have... so many different ones...))#((but this is SO MANY WORDS...))#offline queue
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For former General Roth slash daemon entity, maybe nightmares of succumbing to the Scourge completely and never seeing the light of day nor being freed by it, losing control of his body and mind but still watching himself slaughter so many fragile creatures left and right. Chocomog fest music playing ominously in the background while Kenny Crow watches in amusement. Maybe.
What Do You Imagine My Muse Has Nightmares About? | accepting but also the slowest
He doubted most daemons dreamed. Most seemed to retain very little of their former lives, former consciousness, but he’d seen even the lowest of daemons occasionally pause as they looked at something. As if it were familiar, or trying to puzzle something out before instinct got the better of them.
Instinct got the better of all of them, but it seemed far more cruel a fate to be aware of it. And to still be able to dream. As a human he’d learned how to lay still and silence and not let the scream in his throat pass with anything louder than a breath. As a daemon, as a monstrosity, bleeding black and twisted limbs, he could not control the thrashing. Nor the guttural sound that he could feel all the way through him, that likely started anything remotely nearby through sheer sound and vibration through the earth beneath.
It was the same dream, in the end. The eternal nightmare with changed forms, but the same thing. His mind simply slips away from his body, he sees himself but he can’t control it. Whether the swing of a perfectly honed blade or one dripping with something blacker than tar, or claws which could do yet more damage, it’s the same. It’s the same.
The slaughter started with just one. One of the few humans who know about him, trying to know him, as much of a joke as that seems. Too trusting. Not questioning. Not moving.
Then one of the creatures which had survived. Survived the long night and every daemon that smelled them on the wind, only to fall without effort beneath his blade. He tasted the blood even as his mind screamed No! but that--
Even words were not to last. Thoughts. The longer he spent watching, the less he was connected to anything. The gaping maw of nothingness was no escape from the destruction, bullets and blades and even searing lanterns causing his skin to bubble and smoke were not felt. Did not stop him. Did not slow him down.
Then, finally, all that was left in front of him was an enormous stone staircase. Leading to a throne.
Every step cracked marble, caused a shock-wave beneath him, the sound of his sword dragging behind him on one side and the wet slap of his useless “wing” on the other drowning out all else. All else.
Until he came to a halt, looking up at the seated figure. In the distance, echoing, was... music. Almost joyful. Distorted, distant, repeating over... and over... and over...
The dead, soulless eyes of a dark bird crowned king bid his empty shell to finish it.
#IC#pyrrhicpaths#cw: horror#cw: death mention#cw: GROSSNESS?#cw: tiny bit of body horror I guess#FFXVverse!SafayRoth - The-Man-in-Black#((when you gotta go deep diving for your own tag here...))#((THIS WAS THE REQUEST RIGHT))#((THIS WAS IT RIGHT))#offline queue
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[From here because..??? Because.]
@infideliis:
He drifted, slipping in and out of consciousness. The escape from Zegnautus had become a half-remembered blur; who had dragged him out?
His last clear memory was that of Noctis standing before him, of offering him his late father’s glaive–
–and of a red blade slashing, followed by pain.
His face turned toward the voice, acknowledgement that it was heard, yet he did not awaken.
A stolen airship and the many disasters which had lead to the event notwithstanding, it had been a relatively smooth escape. Taking advantage of chaos and abandoned resources. He’d have scored particularly high if he’d been graded.
Safay tried very hard not to let the bitterness of that idea clench in his chest, or in his muscles. Angry as he was, tempting as it might have been to embrace that and act on it--
He was afraid, more than anything. And he knew why. Right there, right in front of him. Had he really managed to save Ravus when the man seemed barely alive? They were safe for the moment, certainly, but he wasn’t sure of where to go. Where they could go. The man needed more medical attention than he could provide, but there was too much uncertainty in showing up anywhere that would know either of them by sight, and even then...
He’d been taught to think realistically. To take only strategic chances, to compare odds. He found that he didn’t particularly care to run mental numbers on something so vitally important to him personally. “Rest. I’ll-- We’ll manage.” The best he could do, maybe. A quiet moment of what he was trying to convince himself was peace before preparing himself for whatever came.
#IC#infideliis#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((did I have any particular plans to respond? I did not))#((but... this))#((not quite the ideal happy escaping with MTs idea but you know))#offline queue
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[From here, because... *long slow shrug*]
@inimiicus:
“Do it,” the Chancellor hissed, eyes aglow in the Keep’s dim light.
“Cut me, I dare you. Spill my blood across the floor, leave my corpse for the rats. You cannot, can you. Your hand trembles…Some weapon you are!” His voice rose sharply, and the darkest shadows around them writhed with teeth and eyes and claws.
A bulb popped somewhere.
“Useless, pathetic, insignificant waste of life!” What was it about the knife at his throat that had incensed him so? What was it about the sight of the man before him that enraged him? Ah, no, he was breaking, splintering, cracking apart from the inside out, and what could he do but lash out at those who knew no better?
This worm deserved it, they all did.
“Kill me or there will be nothing left of you for even the gods to find!”
Fear wasn’t a particular rarity. He’d known it since before he could remember, he was certain; a constant unwanted companion, but a companion just the same. While he was used to fear as background noise, forever fighting between his natural curiosity and the absolute certainty that there were some door he never wanted to see behind, some corridors where the noises should forever remain mysteries, fear had never been that sharp.
It was at the forefront of his mind, suddenly. A fight or flight response so powerfully foreign that Safay could only react with a near perfect exterior calm. It was fear that he felt. It was simply waiting for the wave to cease building and break, which seemed to be taking its time. Like movement in a nightmare.
His grip tightened on the knife as the realization was made. Was he shaking? He couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel much of anything. “You’re a daemon.” Calm. Too calm, too numb. Maybe his assumption wasn’t quite right, but it was close. Like the stench of them. Like the feeling of darkness closing in around him.
He’d killed daemons. They disappeared into nothingness, ferociously as they may have fought. Some of them made sounds-- Made sounds like huma--
Weapon. Some weapon he was. Yes, that sounded right. Meant to instill fear, to take revenge, and it wasn’t even that the tables had turned; he hadn’t read the situation correctly at all.
He knew what would happen. He knew it would be useless. He turned the knife in his hand slightly regardless, as if it would matter. Cut across the chancellor’s neck. Cut deep. Deep enough to feel. Deep enough to have mattered with flesh and blood.
He wondered, calmly still, if he should have turned that knife on himself instead.
#IC#inimiicus#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#cw: violence#cw: injury#cw: gore#albeit not a graphic description#uh...#cw: suicidal ideation#I guess..?#((I don't know; it suits for a back pain night doesn't it?))#((...this got so long wtf))#offline queue
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@phantomdream liked for a thing
It was taking some getting used to. Not in a disagreeable way, but after having spent so long with long hair braided in unique defiance, and longer still in the uniforms of the empire...
Safay knew the lightness he felt was more than physical. It was good, it was all simply... remarkably strange. He had to fight not to simply reach back and make certain that his braid was properly in place, catching himself reaching on occasion and trying to roll it into another motion. Placing his hands behind his back as he addressed Lunafreya, for instance. “Your Majesty. Rumor abounds as to you considering some travel in the near future.”
And perhaps... just perhaps... he was taking some measure of amusement and pleasure in hearing a bit of gossip from manor staff. Whether they were correct or very, very wrong, it was a wholly different kind of gossip than what he’d been accustomed to.
#phantomdream#a thing!#FFXVverse!SafayRoth#((well it's not... not-fluff))#((and I had to get the idea out of my head before I forgot it - HENCE))#((...no I'm not sure where this is going))#lookitmequeue
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[From here, because continuing.]
@novuscaelum:
“Let me go! Hey! Can’t you hear me?” the prince was struggling with the trooper who was gripping onto Novus’ shoulder for dear life. Why was he being led into a room, in a strange land of all places? Was this some sort of dream? It sure felt pretty real to him.
The man who had brought him here forced the Lucian Prince to his knees leaving the two with the door shut behind him. Novus was completely bewildered by the entire situation. What would anybody beyond the Lucian border want with him? He had very little power in terms of ruling, and had no money on him except for a few meager coins he’d happened to have in his pocket.
There was silence in the room as the ten-year-old child canted his head in hopes of getting a better look at the man he was currently with. Novus leaned forward a tad wanting to see the other in full instead of just his back if it were possible only to be met with the pointed end of a masamune right at the tip of his nose. Still, he had to act brave. “Who are you and would you stop pointing that thing at me?” Novus demanded shoving the blade aside with the back of his hand to get it out of his face. “Why am I even here?"
Giving the action a snort, Safay relaxed his wrist a bit more, allowing the blade to lower by a mere couple of inches. Still more than enough to damage, if need be, but while he was aware that the prince was a child... perhaps he hadn’t been wholly prepared. No matter; he was likely to see reason.
“I see you have all the intelligence and fire of your bloodline.” The general quipped. “You are here because it has been determined that you are more useful here. I am General Safay Roth of Niflheim, and you are my... guest for the time being. I intend no harm toward you if you behave yourself, and the ultimate goal is to get you back to your father.” Eventually. At a price. That much was clear, surely.
“Consider this the first true test of your station, Your Highness. Sometimes the only way to succeed is to be patient and silent.” So he hoped, at least. Why he’d been saddled with the care of the prince was beyond him. Some sort of creative punishment, perhaps.
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