VOICES: CHAPTER 3

For a brief moment, a mere week or two, they thought there was a chance that they would catch a break.

Tabor and the Undying.  Repaying the Hideaway’s debts, granted debts that apparently were not perceived as such.  Eloise, managing to find a group of masterless Bearers that they could ferry to safety once they’d managed to sign the right papers.  Eastpool, risen.

Then a few setbacks, troubling, but hopefully manageable.

Black Shields in Lostwing.  Lu’bor.  The Duke of Oriflamme.  

But then the grimness of reality reared its ugly head once more, and there was no reprieve.

Kanver.  Sleipnir.  Barnabas.  

Jill.

Odin’s mad Dominant took Jill.

When Clive had regained consciousness and learned that Jill had covered their retreat and hadn’t come back, nightmares of the what ifs and could haves of Kupka and Rosalith ran on loop through his head.  The rage, the helplessness, the fear.  At Barnabas for taking her.  At Joshua and Torgal for leaving her.  At himself for being the reason it happened at all.

It never occurred to Clive that he had an audience to these nightmares, and an attentive one at that.  

Not until he felt a soft nudge, strangely hesitant given how brutish Ifrit had been up until now when he wanted to make himself known.  Clive’s panicked train of thought abruptly derailed at the prod, and when his attention turned inward, he realized what Ifrit was drawing his attention to.  There, in the threads of aether that twined through the land, the cold glimmer of Jill’s eikonic aether.   He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Thank you, Clive sighed in heavy gratitude to his silent Eikon.  As usual, Ifrit said nothing, but there was a faint burning under his skin that didn’t entirely dissipate as the Eikon returned to his den. Clive didn’t think anything of it at the time.

She was alive, and that meant he wasn’t too late.  A plan could be made.  Was being made.  They were going to get her back.  But despite the words of assurance Clive offered his friends and family, the nightmares didn’t stray far.  Not when he was asking Mid what she needed for her ship, nor when he was rooting around in the Hideaway for long lost notes that may or may not be helpful, or racing back to Kanver’s dead streets with what he hoped desperately was the key to getting the Enterprise up and running.

The burning didn’t stop either, and indeed seemed to spread and concentrate in his chest like a coiled spring winding itself tighter and tighter.  Clive just chalked it up to his fraying nerves and the sheer exhaustion that he knew he felt creeping up on him, little by little as the disasters had started to pile on, this latest just being the straw that broke the Chocobo’s back.

He just didn’t realize that his wasn’t the only back the straw had been piled on.  Or that this was the first time Ifrit was truly experiencing this kind of prolonged, raw fear and panic from his Dominant.  Or that it might affect the Eikon.

Not until they spotted the Einherjar, and the burning tension in his chest snapped.

Strategies to deal with Odin’s ridiculous reach with his weapons were left half completed.  Any weaknesses in his own attacks he’d been trying to figure out how to shore up before their next clash were tossed aside.  Instead Clive dove headlong back into the fray, with barely a hesitation, his normal caution thrown to the wind, all in a mad rush to make sure he could make it in time.  That he wouldn’t be too late again.  He’d lost so much already.  He couldn’t lose her.  

They couldn’t lose them.  

It was only thanks to Barnabas’ need for Clive to serve whatever perverse plan his lunatic god demanded that ensured they all didn’t die at the bottom of that trench.  

And yet again, Jill and Shiva paid the price.  A price they were rapidly becoming unable to pay, in a fight they were unwilling to leave.  It was laid bare before them when they had stripped out of their sea-soaked armor so they wouldn’t die of hypothermia, their usual tricks of avoiding the chill not available this time.  The blighted shores of Ash saw to that.  

Before they had turned their backs to each other to offer a modicum of privacy, Clive had seen the fresh bloom of shimmering stone as Jill removed her soaked armor.  It engulfed all but the fingers of her right hand and crept up her arm and around her shoulder and back, winding around her torso in a warped and woven path until it disappeared down the waistband of the leggings she was still wearing, and it likely continued further from there.  

The realization of just how bad her curse had gotten was like a dagger in his chest.  

And here he stood virtually untouched despite channeling an Eikon that somehow had command of all the elements of the world.  A Dominant meant to usher in God’s new Paradise if only he’d play his part.

Maybe he was a monster.

There was a snort of irritation at that thought, and were they anywhere else but an aether-less land, Clive imagined there would have been embers accompanying it.

Then what are we?  This power does nothing but take that which is not ours, and kill everything else.  What is that if not monstrous?

The growl in the back of Clive’s mind didn’t back down, blunted by the lack of ability to manifest physically, but then Jill started talking and both of their attentions turned to her.

Her words were filled with emotions that had burned in her throat for years, denying the very thoughts Clive had just had moments ago.  Reminding him that monsters don’t try to save people.  Monsters don’t care about helping with menial chores or errands.  Monsters didn’t try to save others simply because it’s the right thing to do.  Monsters would not do all that Clive had chosen to do with the power he’d been granted.

If he was a monster, then so was she.  Because she was going to save him the only way she still could.

She was going to give Shiva to Clive.  

When she’d said that, all propriety had been promptly forgotten and Clive had to turn around so he could be sure of what she’d said.  That they were naked registered somewhere in the back of his brain but his thoughts were too much of a mess to deal with that fact at the moment. 

All he could focus on was the offer before him;  take Jill’s Eikon to shoulder the burden so she didn’t have to.  

It was almost scary how easily he made up his mind, how he didn’t even hesitate despite knowing it served Ultima’s goal, despite his hatred for that very same power that constantly simmered under his skin.  But to save Jill, he’d damn himself twice over if he had to, without hesitation.

Ifrit, however, did not seem to be quite so quick to accept.  In fact he seemed particularly reluctant, a pull in the back of Clive’s mind signalling the Eikon’s objection.  It forced Clive to pause in confusion, trying to parse his Eikon’s behavior until he saw the quirk in the corner of Jill’s lips that was her tell that Shiva was talking to her.

Shiva.  Of course.  Ifrit was worried about what this would do to Shiva.

Worried?  Ifrit was worried?

However, before Clive could cobble together enough wits to put his thoughts into words, Jill took his hand and met his eyes, not a trace of doubt in them.  Only the fierce determination he had fallen in love with so long ago.

Please.  She’s everything to me, Clive pleaded internally.

Only when the flare of Ifrit’s resistance faded did Clive extend his hand the rest of the way to place it against Jill’s chest, and suddenly the lights of ice lit up the night. 

Before now, they had all come unwillingly.  Whether by force or by some natural gravitation that could not be resisted, they had all come without Clive’s consent.  Without their consent.  This was the first time the choice had been theirs, but still Clive had braced himself for the sharp debilitating sting and burning that always followed.  Ifrit was bracing for it, Clive could tell, now that he was able to interpret his eikon.  What was instinct before, now Ifrit seemed to understand and resent, exuding an air of disgust at what Ultima seemed hellbent on using them for, and beneath that was a pang of fear for his eikonic counterpart.  

But this time, there was no sting of invasion, no burning of resistance.  This time it was soothing, calming.  Like a balm of ice upon a sore wound.  And it had nothing to do with Shiva’s element and everything to do with choice.  There was no roar in their ears or splitting pain trying to crack their chest in two.  

No.  None of that.  Instead, there were visions.  

Visions of horns and fire and veils and ice swam between them. Snippets of scenery no one recognized, but Clive could feel Ifrit being enthralled by what they saw. 

A village of beasts and monsters, mothered by a queen of many faces. They lived there once. Until the humans who had tied themselves to them would call them. 

They would only glimpse each other in passing, when one who bested them in combat earned the right to call for their aid.   Sometimes they would fight, other times they wouldn’t.  It was playful, this one. 

A cold metal floor.  The agony is beyond measure and words. They were left here to die, drained of their very essence, but at least they were together in the end. 

Fragments of memories of energy and element coalesced into being, sleeping until they were drawn upon. There was no beginning nor end, simply a flow they followed.  Perfect, except there was no awareness.  No will.  No voice. 

This one was similar to their current selves, a sense of being tethered to a person.  But the bonds were weak.  Fluid.  They could be snatched by anyone strong enough.  And if they were unmoored, it was only until another came to claim them.  It bred a sense of transience.  Never staying long enough to truly bond with their wielder, let alone with each other the few scant times they would glimpse the other.

Another village. Callers, all of them. They could only glimpse each other across their veils unless the callers willed it. They often did not. So they could only observe. 

Ghosts of long dead dreams made manifest. Locked forever away in opposite corners of the world. But still, when the summoners came for them, for a moment they were together. 

She never saw him in this one, for she was fragmented, broken, like shards of her namesake’s element.  He wandered, never finding a willing or worthy partner to wield him.  Her fractured nature meant he never noticed she was there, and she never approached.

Gods again, locked in stasis until they were to bestow a blessing. It was cruel this one, divided by life and death.  Even though they could reach out to touch each other, they were still kept apart. 

You.

It was Shiva’s voice, a stunned, scattered howl of wind with an undertone of shifting ice.  It was beautiful and terrible all at once.    

It’s you…in all these…memories. Primordial memories. Memories that are not mine, and yet...are so familiar.  I…know you, Ifrit.  

No words replied, but both Dominants could feel the fire and ice coiling around each other rife with wonder and confusion.  They also felt the instant Shiva’s confusion turned to fury and her focus zeroed in on Clive’s Eikon across the temporary bridge that had been forged by the transfer.  Jill’s hand held Clive’s tightly as the pressure of two active Eikons bearing down on one Dominant took its toll, even on Ultima’s prized channeler.

Why are you there, Infernian?!  Is this why you do not cower from the cold?!  Is this why I cannot stay away from your flames?!  Answer me, Hellion!  Why do you haunt me?!  

For a moment it seemed like nothing happened, that Shiva’s questions hang forever in the frozen abyss.  When no answer seemed to be coming, Jill and Clive felt the Ice Warden start to withdraw as her power waned, only to stop sharp when a harsh, rough rasp roiled up from the aether like claws being dragged across volcanic rock, a rumble like the flow of magma.

I…know…you. Shiva. 

Four simple words spoken with a crackle of flame that reached across the gap and took the Ice Queen’s proverbial outstretched hand, and in an instant it was over.  The lights faded away, withering once their tethers to two Dominants were severed and Jill sagged in Clive’s arms in pure exhaustion, jolting his mind away from the wonder of hearing his Eikon speak for the first time and back to the woman in his arms.

The naked woman, who had been his best friend since childhood, and who he’d been in love with for years now, if he was being honest with himself.

Instead of saying as much Clive offered words that danced around the obvious, not yet ready to breathe that admission into existence.  Instead he swore to her oaths, bestowed gentle caresses across stone skin without hesitation, anything to see her smile.  To let her know just how much she meant to him. 

And when she met his eyes and smiled back, gentle kisses turned heated and passionate as their barriers crumbled. Curses or lack there of no longer mattered as they offered their bodies to each other the way they could not bring themselves to directly give the words to match.  

So if more was said between the two Eikons that night, it went wholly unnoticed by their Dominants.

The next morning though, in the dim light of barely morning, a few things did finally occur to them.

“You saw them too, right?”  Jill said quietly, gently running her thumb over the arm Clive had draped around her, holding her close.  They really hadn’t moved much from where they’d…sort of…slept, wrapped as they were around each other.  “The visions?”

“I did, yes,” Clive muttered into the back of her neck where his head rested.  

“Has that happened before?  When you took any of the others?”

Clive paused for a moment, trying to recall the other times he’d inadvertently claimed an Eikon.  

“Bahamut, I suppose,” he said with a shrug in his voice.  “Though that felt more like a message than a vision.”

Jill shifted in his arms so she could see his face.  “A message?  From who?  Ultima?”

“I don’t think  so.  If I had to guess…it was probably Bahamut himself.  Maybe as a way to explain what had happened when Dion couldn’t.  Maybe as a warning that Ultima could influence the Eikons if their Dominant’s will was compromised.  I couldn’t say for certain,” Clive mused, adjusting so Jill could settle more comfortably.  

He was loathe to even consider extracting himself from their entwined position, determined to draw this moment out as long as possible before reality came crashing back.  He gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders and waist, rubbing a soothing pattern across her curse-peppered back, smiling as she sighed and sank further into the embrace.

“I never heard him though, not the way I heard Shiva.”

Jill froze suddenly, her eyes wide with surprise.  “You heard her?”

“I think it was her,” Clive chuckled.  “Screaming insults at Ifrit and demanding answers?” 

Jill’s tense posture relaxed as her laughter joined Clive’s.  “Yes, that does sound like her.”

“She is quite the force to be reckoned with, Ifrit need not have worried for her.”

“He was worried?”

Clive nodded.  “I think he feared what taking her power from you might do to her.  We only know that a small portion of the Eikon remains in their Dominant, and that priming with only that small fragment invites disaster.”

His mind flashed to Titan and Garuda, warped and feral, primordial elementals once again with no care for wills or words.  Simply forces of nature.  An image of Jill in the same throws of an uncontrolled Prime flashed before his eyes and he subconsciously held her tighter.

You worry for nothing.  She’s stronger than them.

“Holy fu–shit!” Clive yelped, nearly throwing Jill off him as he bolted up and scrambled into a sitting position in a pure reactionary panic at the voice that rumbled through his mind.  A voice of fire and brimstone.

Jill managed to catch herself, though her eyes were wide in shock as the normally unflappable Clive was suddenly panicking at seemingly nothing.

“Clive, what’s wrong?” Jill made to get to her feet, eyes scanning for whatever could have startled him.

“I-I just..I heard a vo-”  Clive abruptly cut himself off and suddenly it clicked what had just happened.

Ifrit?! 

Ifrit’s laugh roiled up from where the Eikon usually resided inside Clive’s awareness.

That was YOU?! 

Who else would it be?

“Clive?”  Jill asked again, not privy to anything except Clive’s eyes darting around frantically while he ran a hand through his hair as if to ground himself.

“Ifrit,”  Clive managed to say, finally shaking off the shock.  “It’s Ifrit.  He’s….he’s talking.”

“Wait, what?  Here?!”  Her concern had immediately evaporated and was replaced by gleeful curiosity.  

The crackle of laughter echoed across Clive’s mind again, rife with amusement.  I spoke last night, did neither of you hear?  

Last night?  Clive parroted back dumbfounded.

Or were you too preoccupied with each other?

“Yes,”  Clive answered Jill’s question with a groan, though there was a smile on his face and chuckle of disbelief. “And apparently, he’s an asshole.”

There were twin barks of laughter at that;  One from Ifrit and one from Jill.

“Well it’s no wonder Shiva seems to like him, then,” she giggled, trying to keep the undignified snorts from her voice, with little success.  

“Does she now?” Clive smirked mischievously, both at Jill and internally at his Eikon.  What did you two get up to while we were distracted, I wonder?

I will not dignify that with a response, Ifrit sniffed indignantly, but there was a poorly disguised flush of pride behind the huff. 

“What’s he saying?” Jill asked after a moment.

“Mocking us for being less observant than usual last night, it seems,” Clive sighed with mock weariness.

“Founder these two really are mirrors of each other, aren’t they?” Jill snickered.

“I take it Shiva is none too pleased at being ignored either?”

Jill rolled her eyes at nothing and shook her head.  “She found it rather rude that we did not pay proper respect to such a momentous occasion as the awakening of an Eikon’s voice.  Also she wonders what exactly you’ve been saying to him.  Apparently his vocabulary is…or….was…rather lacking.”

“Only ‘rather rude’?”

“The phrase ‘were you educated by fucking swine’ may have been used.”

“There we go,”  Clive sighed in good humor at Shiva’s vulgarity.  “Well whatever the questionable nature of my upbringing may be, she seems to have remedied the problem.”

“Oh don’t let her fool you, she’s enjoying herself,” Jill glanced up and to the side, a mischievous knowing grin on her face.  

Well, Clive mused internally.   At least that explains your sudden mastery of the spoken word.

The amount of time you spend talking, it would be more surprising if I didn’t, Ifrit shot back.

Keeps things interesting.  Torgal and Ambrosia don't seem to mind.

I am going to pretend you didn’t just compare conversation with me to conversation with your pets.

Well until five minutes ago there didn’t seem to be much difference, now, did there?

It seemed like Ifrit was about to make some rebuttal, but the growl that had been slowly building in his voice as they’d bantered suddenly cut off and Clive felt Ifrit’s attention shift to something in the distance.  A flicker of warmth in the distance, barely detectable thanks to the blighted shores.

It seems Phoenix has found you.  

That seemed to snap Clive out of the novelty of having a conversation partner in his head and back to reality.  

I suppose you have time to indulge a bit longer if you don’t fear being caught…unarmed…when the ship arrives.  I’m sure my sister’s Dominant will understand.

Clive rolled his eyes and sighed, mentally giving Ifrit a rude hand gesture as he resigned himself to getting up and putting his hopefully dry clothes back on.  Jill, seemingly having gotten a similar heads up from Shiva, was doing similar.

They dressed in silence, each mulling over how their worlds had been tilted in several ways in the span of less than twenty-four hours.  Mercifully, it seemed Ifrit was content to leave his jabs there.  Apparently whatever shared consciousness existed between Eikon and Dominant allowed him enough insight to glean when to step back and allow Clive a moment to collect himself.

As they stood on the shore of the beach, fully armored and gazing out at the silhouette of the Enterprise on the dark horizon, Clive put his arm around Jill and leaned into her as she pressed her head against his shoulder. His anchor when he felt adrift, and he hoped hers as well.

This may take some getting used to.  

Are you talking about me or your lover?

Both, Clive admitted.  There was little point in lying to either Ifrit or himself.  It was one thing knowing you were there.  It’s another to hear you.

There was a poignant pause before Ifrit responded, a shift from his snappish replies so far.  It is, isn’t it.

It wasn’t a question, more an agreement.  

We’re going to have a lot to talk about, aren’t we? 

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