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There was one thing the Maester of Yevon could not stand, and that was failure; especially when it came with such severe political backlash. The people whispered and spread their rumors, and he had to save face, for now, by doing nothing about it. The faith in their Maester had been shaken from the events at the Stadium where many people had died, but he had been thankful for those that acknowledged he did what was in his power to do. He had tried to wrap his head around the situation to find what he could have done differently, though not out of blame or a sense of responsibility for the death of innocent people. Oh no, it was far from the fact. He was a man with power, and that power needed to be displayed and he had found himself wanting. He sat in his personal quarters with a glass of wine and his personal magically-sealed notebook, a hand on his chin and the other holding a pen.
He had come to one conclusion, and that conclusion was his grab for power. He needed power, and he craved it like a deep thirst; a thirst that only a being that never knew sustenance could long for. He went through many ideas in his head, but they all trailed back to an immediate solution. Perhaps that was why he called the boy Guardian to his quarters so abruptly. He had no intention of placing dear Favael at blame. The boy did all he was capable of, but he knew his potential and how far he could take himself. The boy was a wellspring of both martial and magical prowess, and he refused not to aid the boy in tapping into his inner talent. Through a passage in his quarters in a vast library he sat, reading through tomes of magical knowledge and history to try and tap into any secret he could.
The Lucavi witch had outclassed them both in every aspect of combat, and it was decided by Seymour himself the time had come to bring the event to light and comprehend a solution. That solution required three vital pieces of an intricate and delicate puzzle; Seymour himself needed to further his own magical prowess and power, and needed to fine-tune his finest and most remarkable personal student toward the same. The third goal was to locate a trump card; Anima, the lost and corrupted soul of his dear mother. Seymour lifted his pen and tapped it against his chin, using his free hand to sweep the bangs from his eyes as he studied over the multitude of tomes and journals strewn across a cluttered and messy desk.
He copied notes here and there, trying to cram in as much information as he could on the oh-so-limited pages of parchment before the boy Guardian arrived. He found himself getting closer and closer to unlocking his own true potential, but there were still many questions without answers. With the campaign against Sin in full motion, he needed to shift his agenda in an entirely new direction; the first step was acquiring the sheer power to do so. Hearing footsteps down the passage into the magical library, he promptly closed and sealed the journal with a charismatic wave of his hand over the front cover and darted his eyes to the entryway.
It seemed Favael had arrived, and there were many things to discuss.
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[style=font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; color: #4a95c4]credit goes to Lunar of Love Stamp and Back to Neverland[/style]
Last Edit: Mar 15, 2013 21:49:17 GMT by Seymour Guado
[STYLE=width: 350px; padding: 2px; font-family: arial narrow; font-size: 11px; color: #d62400; text-align: justify;]The room was not lit at all, save for a single flickering flame that danced in front of Favael's face. He sat on the edge of his bed with his head down, ashamed of being defeated so easily. The boy was bandaged nearly from head to toe from taking the brunt of Requiem's explosion. That's precisely why he sat alone in his room, wallowing in his painful despair.
Seymour had called him for study and yet he hesitated to go. The boy couldn't bring himself to move just yet, even though he knew he had to. Failure to that degree was something that just hadn't happened before. With a heavy sigh Favael stood, as he limped over to the door. He stepped out into the hallway with the strength that he could muster, leaving his room dark behind him.
It took him several minutes to make his way to the Maester's library. He did not have his saber on him today, there were guards here for a reason. He stepped into the room and looked at Seymour his eyes dull, his inner flame burning low for once.
"Lord Seymour...I..." he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. What would he say? He failed...he was sorry... It wouldn't matter.[/style]
As his student and Guardian clambered down the dark hallway, the Maester could already tell by the look on his face the boy was fairly ashamed of himself. He began to speak, but Seymour lifted a finger to stop him. ''You performed admirably. We were clearly outclassed in terms of raw power, and we were fortunate to have escaped with our lives. I have you to thank for my keeping my own.'' He nodded briefly before leaning back a bit in his seat, and motioned to a comfortable chair on the other side of the desks where he had already laid out several tomes for the boy to read. If they were going to get anywhere, they needed to stockpile any leads they could on how to improve. The thought of Anima was an ever-present solution in his mind, but it only solved a portion of the issue.
It was true that Anima was very powerful, but after the display at the Stadium he was all too sure he couldn't hide behind her forever, even if he were in the position to claim the Aeon as his own. He needed his own source of strength. The most difficult piece of the puzzle however was Favael himself. Looking at the boy broken and injured didn't remind him of failure. Instead, laying his eyes upon his student only brought forth the thought of untapped potential. The boy had the aptitude to grow wildly with the correct methods, but even Seymour knew he wasn't the greatest tutor out there though he was far from the worst. He tapped his pen against his chin as he eyed the books he put on the other side of the desk near Favael.
''The only clear solution i'm sure you have dwelled upon as well is the acquisition of power. It was a clear one-sided fight from the beginning until the end; the witch toyed with us the entire time. You and I both know she is, and was, capable of much more.'' He cleared his throat and continued. ''I realized very quickly I need to broaden my study of magic and acquire some spells to boost our strength in battle, so i've been working toward that goal. My suggestions for you? Hmm...'' He tapped his chin again, thinking for a moment. Favael was exceptionally skilled with magic, but his potential was a difficult thing to grasp.
He'd poured a lot of what he had into his mastery of fire magic, and the remainder into swordplay. He had become equally skilled at both, even if he favored one to the other. ''Your grasp of fire magic is unlike anything i've seen. Your spirit itself is like living flame, which naturally draws you toward its usage. What I have displayed in front of you are several tomes; options, if you will.''
He lifted his pen again and tapped the first book. ''First, we have my own personal records on fire-elemental magic. This includes offensive and defensive spells, such as the powerful Firaga or magic to defend against flame. I've also included my notes on the powerful Flare spell.'' He moved to the second book. ''Here is a compendium on channeling techniques for other elemental magics, so as to broaden and round out your arsenal. A sorcerer's best tool is his adaptability; we study, and we react accordingly.'' He smiled.
Moving to the third, it seemed to be a thick two-part tome adorned with various symbols on the back cover, and the front cover contained common sigils commonly found in white magic. ''With our current methods, we've certainly been gearing ourselves toward pressing the attack; not enduring one. The first half of this tome is what i've been studying myself. It contains knowledge on spells such as Protect, Shell, or Reflect, and spells that remove toxins or heal injury.'' He flipped it open halfway to another cover.
''And this...'' He smirked lightly. ''This is something I found buried quite some time ago, though only now do I believe we have the strength to find it useful. This is a record and lore book on Aeons that have been confirmed to exist here on our continent, and it is also littered with other rumors and sightings of creatures like them elsewhere in the world. I get the feeling it is missing a few, but I believe it would be beneficial for us to each try and grasp one in the near future.''
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[style=font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10px; text-align: center; color: #4a95c4]credit goes to Lunar of Love Stamp and Back to Neverland[/style]
Last Edit: Mar 15, 2013 21:51:12 GMT by Seymour Guado
Post by Favael Nocturnus on Feb 4, 2014 0:43:39 GMT
Though his body was wounded, just as wounded was the teen's pride. Even with Maester Seymour's words of encouragement and agreement that they stood no chance against that witch, Favael found it rather difficult to in anyway smile or be any kind of upbeat. Seymour's compliments about being a living flame basically just brushed over him, Favael felt very undeserving right now.
He still continued to listen, and stepped forward to look through the books as Seymour showed him. The tome about fire magic did not hold his interest much, save for the Maester's mention of the flare magic - he'd already mastered the flame. It was the other elements he struggled with and no matter how hard he tried he could not produce anything to do with ice. Perhaps it was just that his inner fire burned too hot.
Seymour's talk about various healing and protective magics held Favael's interest, for with those he would be able to better serve as the Maester's guardian. The last book though, Favael's eyes widened and he seemed intent on staring at it. After complete silence while Seymour was speaking, Favael finally spoke up.
Seymour was many things, and his perceptiveness was definitely one of his stronger suits. He studied his guardian carefully, and it seemed he was taking the loss harder than the Maester had first given him credit for. He kept a straight face however and as he moved through discussing each tome of his personal records and collected rumors, he noticed right off the bat that Favael's interest peaked at the mention of the last two tomes. The Maester was beginning to form a few ideas as he casually pushed the other tomes away and to the back of his desk. He withdrew a paper with a few names and dates on it, then grabbed a pen. He scribbled down the name of his personalized tome on supportive magic, scribbled down Favael's name near it, and the current date before picking up the book and placing it in the boy's hands. ''Consider that yours until you deem it necessary to return it. I have studied it enough to give a few spells some degree of consideration, but my most outstanding talents lie in black magic.'' Favael knew that much already, but Seymour thought it necessary to reinforce the point that he may need that tome back someday.
He wouldn't release the book of rumored summoned creatures, as he had never personally gone out into the world past Spira to try and bring truth to any of the rumors. He thought of bringing it with him if they were to start travelling, but perhaps a hand-written copy of only the main points would do. Folding his arms behind his back, he began to pace the shelves of books, journals, and tomes. The recent loss of face in the eyes of the people of Yevon brought a difficult choice to the forefront of his mind, and it was time to consult his nearest ally on the matter. ''Favael. What would you say if we were to travel for a short while? We build our strength outside the borders of Spira, and each time we return, we will restore the people's faith in you and I that much more. It wouldn't be terribly long trips, mind you; if we try to regain what we have lost here, I feel it will be a very slow and grueling process. However, I feel our best reason for making these trips is to possibly make connections and strengthen Yevon's place beyond the borders of Spira. Many of us here have not seen anything of the outside world, save for mercenaries or adventurers.''
It was clear he wasn't entirely sure what course of action to take himself. He hoped Favael could offer an honest opinion. The first trip of many in his mind wouldn't be for some time, so as to make the necessary arrangements.
Post by Favael Nocturnus on Feb 12, 2014 18:41:17 GMT
As he was handed the book by Seymour, the glum expression on Favael's face faded slightly into a very small smile. He flipped the book open and skimmed through it and looked at some of the names of the different spells. Good... maybe he would have better luck surviving onslaughts from others as well as taking them down a few pegs. "You know me best Lord Seymour... I'd rather have as much magic as I can get access to. I'll take very good care of it sir."
Favael placed the book on his belt, hanging it there so that he'd have it for easy access. The boy let out a deep sigh, shifting a bit on his feet before quickly regretting it as pain shot all through him. He visibly winced and tried to stay as still as he could without hurting more. Wounded body and spirit, it might take a while for him to fully recover.
He perked up again when Seymour spoke of traveling. He'd never been away for long and even then it was only for things still on the Spira continent. "Will it be okay if we do...?" the boy was hesitant in asking, though if it was what Seymour wanted to do he would go along with it. "I think we should...at least..." He looked down at the ground and nodded, slightly more convicted in his statement. "If it helps me get stronger."
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