Bodysnatching Asshole

[wrecking_yard]

I know I blacked out after Fandaniel dragged me into the void gate. The only thing I remember intruding on the haze of unconsciousness was a sense of unease and profound wrong; I'm reasonably sure I had been drugged at some point when Fandaniel laid hands on me.

The next thing I was aware of was nausea, somewhat akin to the kind that comes from wandering areas thick with corrupted aether mixed with the aether sickness from the experimental teleport. I could still sense my surroundings, but not well - as though there were a heavy blanket draped over my aetheric senses; not absent, but somehow deeply inhibited, beyond a sense of dim light and a deep, tortured shadow the shade of malice and corruption filling the air like smoke, seen but not fully felt. The sense of wrong had only strengthened.

I also wasn't wearing my light chain and warded garb, but heavy armor - something I was unfamiliar with in general enough to have no idea what sort - and while I was certainly wearing a sword, the weight felt wrong for Talekeeper.

Considering the situation, I was not giving any sign I was awake until I had better stock of my situation, at least to the extent I could do without tipping anyone off that I was conscious. I didn't think Zenos would strike when I was this compromised - it would go against what he clearly wanted. Perversely, his desire for a "proper challenge" was likely my only defense at the time against Fandaniel, at least until I found a solution to whatever was wrong. I did not doubt that the only thing holding the Ascian back against me was that Zenos was still too useful to his designs; he definitely had plans of his own and I did not know where I might figure into them besides as a nuisance.

I could still feel the connection to Midgardsormr, fast asleep. There was a sense of distant bemusement - Feo Uhl was certainly aware, but communicating would take effort and energy I likely needed elsewhere. The Blessing of Light was still there; I doubt they could do anything to disturb that. There were the old patterns of habit, but trying to test the proverbial pilot light on my magic hit that feeling of a heavy, dampening blanket again, the channel not functioning properly; I might be able to force my way past it, but it would be an astronomical effort only good enough for one shot.

No serious aches or pains beyond the beginnings of a crick in my neck from "sleeping" propped up in a chair and the pervasive sense of wrong. The inhibiting effect is odd; it seems counterproductive to Zenos's goal of wanting a "proper" fight where I would bring my all to bear on him. There was definitely a sense that I was not alone - the sound of restless weight shifting to one side, too light to be Zenos, had to be Fandaniel, and a darker shape somewhere a couple yalms in front of me, currently still. The outline of Zenos's aura was familiar, but I couldn't sense him beyond that, just see the shape in the dim, colorless gloom.

I cracked an eyelid to take stock beyond that, decidedly not thinking too hard about the contradiction that was my aetheric senses not functioning but still seeing dim shapes and aura colors with my eyes closed. I was definitely wearing Garlean armor, heavier than what the conscript rank and file wore but nothing like the powered armor of the highest ranks. I was seated at some kind of fine table, with food that looked well enough but turned my stomach anyway.

Theatrics. I'd been drugged, kidnapped, and god knows what for theatrics, and was probably high enough in Babil for the dampening of my senses to be a small mercy when I couldn't even draw enough energy to internally mitigate the corruption thick in the air.

A clink nearby jarred my attention, but it was just Fandaniel, dressed as a servant and clearly enjoying himself far too much, pouring wine as if I weren't in the room with the last two people in existence I'd touch alcohol around. There was a small shift signalling that Zenos had definitely noticed the signs I was awake and had zeroed in on me.

With no more use for the ruse, I sat up stiffly, blinking through the slits in the armor.

At the other end of the table was definitely Zenos's aura, but my face, my pale yellow eyes, my hair streaked white from Bahamut's rage, my coat and garb, Zenos leaning a chin on my hand with a very Zenos intent smirk. I blinked blearily a couple times.

"What -" The voice that came out was too deep, rough from exposure to smoke - "In the bloody swiving arsehole of the deepest *Fuck*."

Zenos *smiled*. “Ah, there’s my one friend.”

Fandaniel started in on some dramatic ramble with glee about the creep scientist who'd been experimenting on Echos in Ala Mhigo and building on that work; I only spared him a half-glare from the side, not wanting to indulge his love of attention too much, particularly not when I was nauseous and had a vague headache. No, I focused my attention on Zenos, because there had to be some bloody reason he'd agreed to let Fandaniel muck about with who was in which body *and* leave his own unattended after it'd been hijacked the last time.

"The food is safe, you know. I have no reason to poison you." His inflection and cadence, my voice, grating on my last half of a nerve that day, which was lying half-dead in a barren and exhausted field of fucks.

I didn't answer, just folded my arms to glare at him through the helm. "Is this some bizarre corruption of Garlean courtship nobody ever told me about?"

He grimaced, an actual expression of affronted disgust, drawing back. "Definitely not. I have never had an interest in such crass and petty distractions."

I can't even say that his clear distaste for the idea being a comfort is 'strange', particularly when he's wearing my body. It's a clear and easily rational relief that I at least don't have to worry about him getting creative.

"Well, you certainly have my attention, but isn't this a touch counterproductive to that grand battle you so long for?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." He's poking at his own plate in front of him speculatively. "You see, when I first returned, in the first body I could claim, I began to realize how much I had taken the strength of my own form for granted. To learn to use foreign limbs and arms... I found it quite enlightening." It is clearly the tone of sharing a favor, more of his bloody cat-batting.

Fandaniel is off to the side nattering something about the food and how much work had been gone to for this, and I am still doggedly ignoring him, particularly when he's just being an ass and not saying anything potentially relevant.

"And this farce?"

"You did say you wanted me to 'attempt to converse like a normal human being'."

Great. He's trying to grow a sense of humor. I roll my eyes, a gesture probably lost under the armor. "You do realize that the stories the rank and file tell of the terrifying, bloodthirsty demon 'Champion' come entirely from people who were actively invading my homeland or threatening those I cared about, correct? And are just possibly exaggerated and skewed descriptions, particularly considering that I am Gridanian and was a dedicated white mage until I took up the rapier so I would be slightly better at defending myself when separated from my comrades?"

Zenos snorted. "I have seen and heard of what your kin fight like; your people are ruthless on the battlefield." He gestured with the fork. "And I have seen you drop all pretenses; I know you hold a beast within you."

I give him a very dull look. "I think you have a gross misconception of the nature of beasts. Even the greatest predators among beasts hunt to eat, and elsewise prefer to avoid conflict save in defense of self, kin, or territory." I'm not touching the meal laid out, but I do pause, drumming gauntleted fingers on the table, still making no move to take off any of the armor. "In fact, the hunters capable of bringing down the largest prey tend to be downright indolent in between hunts - they gain more than enough meat to rest and save their strength. I've seen dragons 'nap' for three days straight, and there's little lazier than a well-fed coeurl."

He just looks bemused.