Thankfully, 'ere long the aetherial creature had settled onto Haurchefant's lap, curled around her hand. And she caught you staring.
Of course she did. Mercifully, she merely cleared her throat and leaned closer.
"About that request- I know this might sound queer, but are you perhaps able to summon a dragon?"
You stare at her in disbelief. Had this Knight of Ishgard truly just asked you- in the middle of the Dragonsong War no less- to summon a dragon? Like one would ask their parents for a starlight gift? What sort of deranged timeline had you arrived in?
"I'm sorry ser, I fear I might need some context on that one."
She takes a moment to run the phrase through her mind again before covering her face with her palm in consternation.
"Oh damn and blast, that sounded absurd didn't it." She sighed. "I apologize, what I meant is that we have a couple of newly arrived trainees in the camp, you see. While we can train them against blade and spell, fighting a dragon is something else altogether."
Ah, now it makes far more sense. You nod in agreement.
"My hope was that with your abilities, we could train them against such enemies in a relatively safe environment. To be completely honest, they could also do with a lesson in humility, which your creations should be plenty enough to give them. So, what say you, friend?"
You ponder for a second. You certainly could, but-
"While summoning dragons happens to be my specialty, I fear that might not be a good idea, Haurchefant. Mostly because said specialty happens to be Bahamut, and I am not sure I can reduce its destruc-"
You stop the explanation halfway through thanks to having to hurriedly invoke your Scholar's accoutrements on account of the woman somehow managing to choke herself with hot chocolate.
"Wait wh-" A cough. "Bahamu-" Another cough. Your cast of Esuna finishes.
"Breathing first, please."
She takes a deep breath, blinking at the sudden relief.
"Thank you, friend. By the fury, did you say your specialty was summoning the dreadwyrm itself?"
You smile at her bewilderment. You had no idea not being on the back foot of a relationship all the time was this entertaining.
"That it happens to be, yes. Granted, 'tis more of an avatar of its being, but I can assure you that it would serve poorly as a training device. Might I suggest Ifrit instead, if all that's needed is claw and fire?"
Haurchefant ponders for a moment. Either that, or she's letting her eyes wander over your new, significantly less heavily clothed visage. Possibly both.
"Well, I dare not assume to know your arcanima better than yourself, so Ifrit it is." She smiles. "I was not aware of your multiple talents in magicks, however! That healing spell was most impressive. Pray tell me about it!"
You think about returning to your Summoner's attire, but you certainly will not be the first to bare some chill in their legs to attract a partner. Easy conversation fills the time while you explain the differences and similarities between the two academias until the late hours of the night.
Eventually the point comes where you stand both too tired and too cold to continue however, and you excuse yourself to the chambers that were allocated for you, thankfully not having to brave the bitter wind in a miniskirt to reach the barracks.
The hall falls into the deathly silence that tends to follow late night paperwork while Haurchefant forces herself to finish the last few pages. But something keeps nipping at her focus.
"Corentiaux, was she- actually flirting with me?"
Once more this night, a hand exasperatedly covers the face of an Elezen.
"Milord, the only way she could have been any clearer would be to climb atop you then and there."
Indignation colours her features. "Well, you'll forgive me for being a bit lost in this case! You are well aware how I don't tend to get this far, that any woman that seems to fancy me changes her mind once they find out about my condition!"
The older man shrugged
"To be fair Sir, that's more on account of, unlike your previous suitors, and forgive my Coerthan for a moment, that woman not seeming to be a vapid whore."
Her eyes widen at the wording. "Corentiaux!"
"I can only be so flowery towards those harpies, Milord."
She runs a hand through her hair, entirely failing at placing the strands in any other configuration than their usual.
"I am happy about this, and by the Fury she's both attractive and interesting, but-"
"But thanks to her more draconic features, you are afraid any proper connections would cause friction between your family and the Holy See. So the true question is-"
"My good Halonic morals say no-" She crosses her arms in consternation.
"-but your complete disregard for anything religious says yes."
Haurchefant sighs in relief, smiling at her old friend. "I knew you were my second in command for a reason."
Corentiaux's amusement only reaches his eyes. "I'm afraid someone has to be, Milord."
Death.
So much death, all around you. Everyone you'd ever cared for or loved.
Alisaie, your best friend. Her lifeless body on the ground, after commiting one of the heroic sacrifices she so despised. To save you.
Y'shtola, the dearest sister you've never had. Gone forever after cheating death one too many times. Naught to remember her by but her final words, her wish for you to not give up. And yet you did.
And of course, Haurchefant. His ever-loving eyes struggling to focus on you one last time. Blood that doesn't stop flowing no matter how desperately you and Selene try to heal him. His request to see your smile one last time. And even that you could not do.
Over and over again, you see their loss. You feel the despair, the fear, the pain of losing those that made everything worth it. What was the point of being a Warrior of Light if all it gained you was pain?
Why won't he stop bleeding? -'Friend?'- You've healed far worse than this, with far less of an effort -'friend, please, wake up!'- , but Haurchefant doesn't stop bleeding, he never stops bleedi-
"Wake up!"
You gasp for air, jolting upright in bed. Your dilated pupils take a moment to adjust to the light coming through the open door and reflecting off of locks of silvery hair. Your heart hammers in your chest while you remember where you are, when you are. And who she is.
"My apologies, you seemed to be in so deep a nightmare that I could hear from the hall. Is there aught I can-"
You cut her off by wrapping your arms around her shoulders and sobbing. The sensible part of you knows you should not do this. That she won't understand. That you might be ruining everything.
That part is overruled by the one that has you clinging to her while endlessly whimpering that you're sorry between sobs and wails. You're sorry for letting them die, you're sorry for letting everyone die, you're sorry for killing everyone else just to be here. It hurts too much inside, you can't hold it anymore. At least you don't explain as much, you just settle for repeating the same thing.
"I'm sorry."
Haurchefant is confused, but she holds you close and lets you wet her undershirt with tears anyway. Her questions will wait. She doesn't know why seeing you like this hurts her heart as much as it does, but that doesn't matter right now.
"It's alright. Everything is alright."
It obviously wasn't, if you held such grief within you. But she'd try to make it otherwise anyway.
In minutes, your tears are finally spent and your breathing is calm again. Slowly, you let go of her, looking to the side in a mix of embarrassment and consternation. Esteem looks back at you with a concerned expression.
"Well, I guess the Miqo'te is out of the bag now."
It surprises you to see Haurchefant immediately whip around, unsheathing a dagger from her back and falling into a fighting stance between you and your Id. You don't remember him carrying a weapon at all times before.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?"
Esteem at least bothers putting her hands up in a sign of peace. "Easy there, gorgeous. I am but a part of her." The Elezen just glares at her for a moment, before taking a step back.
"Friend? What does she mean?" Her guard never wavers for a moment, dagger ready to make every attempt to parry the humongous greatsword that your alter ego has strapped to her back in your defense. You sigh at the sight. You can take the timeline out of the needless, heroically protective knight…
"She speaks true, Haurche." You get up, groaning a bit at the stiffness of your body. The crisp sunrise has just begun to illuminate the outside, unimpeded in cloudless skies.
"Think of her as a sort of- instinctive summon, if you will. She means us no harm."
After a last measuring look at the apparition, she sheathes her blade. For some reason, the fact that she had one so well hidden in the first place worries you. Your shade, for her part, takes joy in theatrically kneeling at Haurchefant's feet and kissing the top of her hand.
"Name's Esteem, my fair lady." Her attempt to out-knight Haurchefant in her (yours) diminutive stature would be comedic were it not for the ponzes of heavy plated armour covering her body combined with the smoldering look and sideways smile she gave to the woman.
"Enthralled, and at your service."
You did not expect this version of your past lover to blush into temporary speechlessness, but file it under useful information for later. Mayhaps 'twould be time for some practice in the dark arts after all.
"Excuse me, but- Esteem? As in, of the self type?" The poor woman seems rather befuddled. Granted, for someone not versed in the insanity that is how your mind-
"Allegedly." The Dark Knight grins.
Works, it wo- You pause in annoyance.
"Did you just interrupt my internal musing out loud?" Your face hardens in vexation at the gall of this woman.
"Oh come now, you slip into those far too often and we both know it." She shrugs. Perhaps she has a point, but to point it out like that is rather impolite.
You sigh, shaking your head before addressing your company, still futilely trying to make sense of it all. "Quite. I'd advise not minding her, she doth protest too much." To be entirely fair, that was her job as the part of yourself that seeks to be happy. Didn't mean she did not sometimes make things far more difficult in the end.
"Well? When will you tell her the truth?" You glare at her. Like now, it seems.
Haurchefant's eyebrows arise in equal curiosity and worry. "Is there aught I should know? Friend?" And of course. Even with Esteem placing a proverbial knife at your throat and handing it to the woman, she still metaphorically turns it around out of concern for you. Your goal of keeping them alive will be arduous then, if only because that soul is truly too good for this world.
"Many a thing, actually." You can hear your own heartbeat in your veins, another point of no return soared past. You'd been crossing those a lot recently.
"None that cannot wait until at least tonight, I assure you. It will take-" You ponder for a moment, making a quick mental list of all you'd need to explain. It's not small. "-some hours to fully tell, and I do not wish to leave the camp without a commander first thing in the morning."
She seems to wish to argue for a moment, before resigning and sighing in defeat. "You make a fair point. I will make sure to have some time set aside around supper then, like yesterday?" She's aware that her personal concerns for you must come after the matters of her duty. That does not mean she has to enjoy it.
"Yes, that sounds perfect. Please do not worry overmuch, 'tis no cause for danger. Merely- context, so to say." It was a bit- nay, a lot of a stretch, but not inaccurate. You merely had to hope that upon hearing your tale, Haurchefant didn't either set the guards on you or call the chirurgeons.
Or both.
"My work here is done, then!" Esteem smiled broadly, a gauntleted fist hitting the palm of her other, equally gauntleted, hand. The sunlight which before illuminated her now was absorbed into an ever more formless shade, before long dissipating into dark motes and being reabsorbed into your being. 'Twas just like her, to 'tell and run' so to say. The silver-haired knight simply stared at you.
"I will assume that's normal." Going by her tone of voice, that alone was an effort.
"Quite!" You smile back, enjoying the unnatural upturn in your mood thanks to the small rejoining. "Shall we proceed with the training session we've discussed yesterday once fast has been broken?"
She stares at you for a second to process the abrupt mood change, but smiles at you in return regardless. "Sounds good, there should be about an hour even before that if you wish to refresh yourself." Her smile dies a bit, however. "Will you be alright, friend?"
You stop yourself from hugging the angel in Elezen form in front of you, if only through enormous willpower. Instead, you settle on holding one of her hands between yours, squeezing it softly. "Because of you, yes. Thank you, Haurchefant." You give in to the nagging at the back of your soul, gently kissing the top of her hand before letting go.
Your reward is a repeat of the blushing the action caused before, if only this time inaction through shock is replaced by embarrassed averting of the eyes and clearing of her throat.
"Part of you indeed, it seems." She manages to return eye contact after a second. "Still, I am glad to be of help, in a small way as I can."
'If only you knew', part of you wants to say. Then again, everything going according to plan, soon she would.
Nevermind that nothing, in the history of plans, has ever gone according to one.
You stare at the being of pride and fire that came out of your book.
The several fulms tall, very much not a mere Egi being. Still utterly under your control, surely, but not exactly what you'd expected. Garuda was still just an Egi when you wielded her the day before, so what-
The band of Amalj'aa nearby stare aghast while, instead of engaging in deadly combat with the being, you simply approach it. Your will subsuming its, forcing the Lord of the Inferno himself to kneel before you. This broken thing, this false idol, a god? The mere thought insults you. Nay, it will serve you as all that it is, a tool and naught else. You open your tome in almost pity.
-You shake your head, clearing your senses after the familiar dizziness of the Echo washes over you. Did you just see into your own alternate past? Did you temper a primal?
What the void kind of timeline is this?
Under the questioning gaze of the veteran knight overseeing the training session, you file it under 'questions for later'. A quick glance at the available incantations to command the beast tells you that it's more or less what you're used to, at least.
Just significantly more intimidating, judging by the clinking of shaking chainmail coming from the direction of the wide-eyed squires which are meant to go up against your summon. Oh well, sucks to be them.
You nod to the knight, ordering the being to rush in but a second after he initiates the combat. All but two trainees are sent flying by the horizontal cyclone of flames, and even those are only standing by sheer luck.
This is going to take a while.
By the time the bell is out, all five young knights are far more familiar in how to battle against fire and fang. They are also having trouble standing up, which leads to the end of the exercise.
For your own part, you decide that the upgrade from a mere Egi has both good and bad points. It's certainly even more powerful, and the extended reach from size alone is a clear advantage. But it's also far more… conspicuous, to say the least, and its bulk can be ungainly in certain situations. You'll learn to work with it.
"Magnificent, my friend! These are lessons I am sure they shan't forget!" An unbidden smile rises to your face when you turn around at the sound of her voice. 'Tis just a soothing sound, there are no two ways about it.
"Nay, I am just glad to be of use. I have many and one reasons to repay you, Haurchefant." You know you are being willfully mysterious at this point, but godsdamnit, you are allowed to have fun sometimes. Her expression when trying to decide what you meant by that exactly is too precious.
"Worry not, all will be explained in due time."
You have become far too adept at feigning innocence. The daughter of house Fortemps, for her part, simply smiles once realizing she's being played for a fool.
"I see. Nevertheless, an idea has come to me to perhaps speed up the search for your missing airship. While my official inquiries have been less than fruitful, perhaps if you spoke to certain individuals of influen-"
"Milord!" The approaching sentry from the northern gate makes no motion to stand on protocol, jogging towards the two of you at a rapid pace.
Within the second, her demeanor changes entirely. Gone is the friendly, enthusiastic knight. In its place, stands the responsible but reasonable commander of Camp Dragonhead. Sharpened eyes, mildly furrowed eyebrows. 'Tis still somewhat surprising to look at, even if it's a mirror image of the person you knew.
"Report, my good man." She closes the rest of the distance herself apace. For your part, you rack your mind for memories of what this could entail. It's been many years and tragedies since you've been here before, and you curse your own brain silently at its uselessness.
"Ser, our patrol sighted Lord Francel and a troupe of Haillenarte knights on their way to Steel Vigil, far too few to be an organized force." The poor man takes a second to get some breath in his lungs. "We attempted to communicate with them, to no avail. The wind o'er north has picked up. If they stay on the course we've seen them in-"
Her brows furrow further. "Then they shall run into a wall of dragons 'ere they reach the gates of the fortress. Fury take me, the bloody fool!"
Slowly, the thread is woven once more in your mind. In a vain attempt to clear his family's name, the younger lord had nearly gotten himself and several knights killed the last time around. And it seems he was aiming for a repeat. At least you know what to do this time.
The shrill sound of your whistling breaks the ruminations Haurchefant had herself in for a way to solve this problem. Within seconds, Nugget is galloping your way from around a building, last bite of krakka root still in his beak.
"I will take care of it!" You spare the bewildered Elezen a quick nod as you sprint past her, Nuggs's speed adding to yours when you grab the reins and swing atop in a fluid motion. With but an order from your lips, your faithful companion leaps into the air and starts carrying you to the skies like he was born to do so.
You're past the northern walls of Dragonhead by the time you feel Ifrit's aether rejoining yours. Though the winds are murderous, the skies are plenty clear to see Dravanians circling both ahead and below in the distance, likely frenzied at the invasion of their territory by Francel and his knights. You could order your chocobo to swoop down and avoid confrontation while you seek your objective-
You feel it inside you. Anger, fury, indignation, vengeance given form. The aether of a being of pure retribution flowing through your body, spilling forth like a waterfall, taking form at your side.
A part of your soul shrugs her shoulders. 'Or that. That works too.'
Back at dragonhead, lord and servants alike squint their eyes at the burst of aether on the sky, amazed and fearful murmurs filling the air. Haurchefant's far more towards the former.
"By Halone, she was not kidding."
The roar of the Dreadwyrm's effigy flying side by side with a chocobo and its rider was the only response she got.
The fourth- or was it the fifth?- Aevis tumbled lifelessly to the cold ground below. Between you and Bahamut, the few airborne dravanians that did not get torn apart by Akh Morns now beat their wings in a frantic rush to get away.
As a bonus, you'd learned that when said spell was not targeted at something near the ground, the effect was a spheric explosion of aether instead of a vertical beam. Good thing your first target was not closer.
You'd spotted the group you came to rescue on the ground, but before you could make your way there, a familiar roar echoed through the old fortress. Twin dragons, proper dragons this time, followed by a smaller one. You didn't have to order Nugget to avoid the incoming ice spell, the experienced bird flying in unpredictable patterns as your two groups closed the distance.
A maelstrom of aether filled the skies through crisscrossing spells, the weaving trails of ice and fire drawing a crazed waltz. You'd focused so much on aiming your bursts of aether at a moving target and making your familiar do the same, it took you far too long to realize that the less impressive dragon had dipped out of the fight halfway through, flying a straight line towards-
-towards Francel. And was already so close that even a slightly errant blast might hit them both.
Bollocks.
For good or ill, you heard someone else (of sorts) speaking through your voice.
"Remember how we kept putting off learning to be a Dragoon?"
The visualization of the insanity that Esteem is suggesting flashes through your mind. You grimace, despite telling Nugs to dive towards the crucial enemy as soon as you are off his back.
"This is an awful idea!" A last blast of your own hits one of the larger dravanians, its companion currently being torn apart in an aerial melee by a rather frustrated dreadwyrm.
You feel the greatsword's weight in your hands, the reassuring bulk of heavy armour cladding you against the bitter winds. You focus on your target, now below you after losing consciousness briefly.
"And you're an awful bloody shot!"
You leap, reddish dark energy gathering in your free hand before you absorb it mid-fall. Thankfully, the aetherial link with Bahamut is now second nature to you, the being still in the fight even as you feel your reason fraying at the edges in exchange for power. Power used to spin your body as you fall, darkness following you like an unholy comet while your sword extends-
-chopping the head of the beast clean off its neck.
Of the corner of your eye, you see your faithful chocobo ripping the throat of its own adversary with its beak after dazing it with the most vicious kick you'd ever seen one of the birds deliver, all before even touching the ground. You take a second to smile in pride at the sight before being rudely interrupted by yourself.
"Do these aetherial wings of yours even work!?"
You turn your head in horror to see the white ground approaching at a very uncomfortable pace.
"SHITTING ARS-"
Darkness. Imprisoning you. All that you see- well, nothing really. That's what you come back to. That and cold. There is rather a lot of weight on all sides keeping you in place, which means you're likely stuck in snow.
No matter, you've been around the block with the Manderville family for many a year, which has given you plenty of opportunity to learn how to dislodge yourself from the ground. First step is figuring out which way is up, a harder task than one might assume in these circumstances.
You can't help but be distracted for a second at the memories of all the escapades throughout the realm.
Such a shame that they all died. Explosions and high impacts are hilarious- until they very suddenly and dramatically aren't.
'Good job putting your own mood down.' Sighing, you try to focus on what way your saliva tends to go inside your mouth to find out where down is, before you feel something yanking you by the greave on your foot.
A short rush of snow later, you find yourself face to feet. The armored and clawed feet of Nugget, which is currently holding you upside down with its beak.
"Kheh?"
You smile. "Yes Nugs, you can put me down now. Thank you."
"Kweh!" His pleased chirp covers the sound of clanking armour hitting the snow when you fall into a heap. Good thing no one else is around to see the great Warrior of Light's perfect landing.
"Ah, adventurer! There you are!" Francel's voice resonates through the crisp air.
Nevermind then.
"Lord Francel, are you wounded? What about your knights?" You get up, steel swapped for thin fabric while Eos comes into being at your side. The result is a young lord tripping over his own feet and just about managing to avoid a face full of the ever-present snow.
Ye gods, your scholar outfit isn't that scandalous. All it shows is some cleavage and thighs.
Alright, maybe a rather lot of thighs. And the form-fitting nature of everything else doesn't leave much to the imagination. But still! These people really need to get out more.
"N-nay, friend. Some scrapes and bruises at worst. The Aevis that had engaged us were diverted at your timely arrival." Is he blushing? Oh gods, he's blushing. "Rather a spectacular event, to see an aerial engagement like that."
You shrug, snapping your heavier furs into being while the rest of his group arrives. No point making things more complicated than they need be. "That is good to hear. What caused you to embark on this crusade, pray tell? Those spurious charges?" You know it probably is, but never hurts to double check for changes.
Time travel is tricky, it turns out.
"Aye. They are ridiculous, I've always done only what's best for Ishgard and my friends!" His head dips in dismay. "But that seems to matter little to Inquisitor Guillaime. He seems to derive joy in laying charges against my house, yet there is very little I can do against his word."
His hands tighten into fists, though the lordling doesn't seem to notice. "Several good people are gone now, and it seems I must be next."
Ah yes, that whole ploy. Using Ishgardian's own blind faith against them. Deviously clever, and if it wasn't for the death of innocents that it caused, you'd be jealous to not have devised it yourself.
'Tis almost funny that the love of your life stems from a city you can barely stand. Of course, they are not all unreasonable, monstrous bigots. No one group is.
But that does not make their deeds as a whole any less heinous. The shadows of the massacre of 1562 still covered almost all Xaela-Ishgardian relationships in distrust and sometimes outright hate.
Oh, shades of grey. Always making things far more complex than you'd want them to be.
Shaking your head, you turn your attention to the present company once more. "Has he only arrived recently?" You spread some fine sand onto a patch of nugget's feathers covered in dragon blood, ruffling them to make sure all the sticky substance has something else to bond to instead of freezing onto your companion. He titters in appreciation.
"That he has, why?" The naive elezen looks at you. Oh, to be young and stupid.
"How hard is it to impersonate an inquisitor? Say, using glamours?" It's a bit of a dangerous step you're taking, meddling with the sequence of fate like this. But then again, this time seems to be a complete mess anyway. 'Tis your turn to set things in motion.
You watch the expression of dawning realization in his face, coloured with a fair portion of disbelief. "But- wait, that could not be! What manner of fiend could benefit from this?"
You stop your palm from meeting your face in dismay. Babe steps. "What group hates Ishgardians so much as to take joy in turning their own faith against them, while knowing about it enough to be sure it would work?"
"Oh." Francel's face falls. "That heretics would be behind this makes a fair amount of sense. But what have they done to the real Inquisitor then?"
You shrug. "My guess is that his body is lying somewhere under the snow at the bottom of a ravine. Not necessarily hard places to find around these parts." Granted, you could be entirely wrong if this timeline is not like your own, but it's a likely chance either way.
"How would we go about finding it? Naught less than presenting that body will make anyone believe in us, rather it would make things much worse!" His pacing was interrupted at the arrival of his knights, one in particular with a rather pronounced limp. You ponder how to go about manipulating these events while helping the soldier atop Nugget.
"I do believe the most effective way would be to retrace the man's steps since arriving in Coerthas. Were I a heretic, I'd strike after he left the gates of firmament, but before he made contact with anyone here." You tap your cheek in thought.
"We should speak with Haurchefant about all this, regardless." You catch the lordling's nod from the corner of your sight while the reunited group sets off back towards Dragonhead.
Haurchefant's eyebrows furrowed. "It's risky, but I have to admit it to be the best chance we have. I still don't like it." She sighed, closing her eyes.
"Take heart, Lord Greystone. Cid and I will be trailing them, and if necessary we will intervene before harm comes to Lord Francel." Alphinaud reassured the taller Elezen, though to not much effect. "We will keep you and yours informed via the Warrior of Light's linkpearl, bear no doubt."
"Please Haurche, let me do this. Even if I am acquitted, this monster masquerading as Guillaime will continue to sentence innocents to their deaths. We have the opportunity to end this, here and now." You take a small step to the side to avoid Francel's enthusiastic gestures that accompany his plea. He's her childhood friend, no doubt.
You gently tap her gauntlet, nodding in affirmation once she has her eyes on you. "If aught happens, I can be there in minutes atop Nugget. This will work."
A faint smile answers you, though it's gone before anyone else can see. "Very well. We shall start after noon. Francel will contact Guillaime through inquisitor Brigie, while Alphinaud and Cid tail them. Once we are sure he's away from Whitebrim, the Warrior of Light and I shall ride there to find the corpse of the real inquisitor, and use it to gather the support of Lord Drillemont."
The rest of the group, gathered around the meeting table of the hall of Camp Dragonhead, nod in unison.
"Afterwards, we will ride to meet the impostor and Francel near Witchdrop, together with Inquisitor Brigie. 'Tis likely that violence will break out, but subduing them should be no issue. If something happens beforehand, our friend-" She locks blue eyes in your direction- "shall take care of it. We'll meet here before starting. Dismissed." Once more you see her trying to adjust her hair in vain. Is it a nervous tick? You file that question for later, before heading out.
Or you try to, before being accosted by your companions.
"Say, not that I doubt your plan, 'tis a rather good one. But, pray tell, how are you so sure of where to find the corpse?" Though Alphinaud hides his concern somewhat well, you can see the tells from a mile away after spending so many years near him. Granted, a different him, but the differences seem to be academic as best as you can tell. You're not quite sure why, but a sly grin adorns your face while you pat his head with not a small amount of condescension.
"Trust and wait, little one. Trust and wait."
Force of habit makes you walk off afterwards, but force of habit of whom? You perk your- well, horns, to catch his muttering behind you.
"I hate it when she does that." Though you can't see, he takes great pain to fix his hair in its previous shape.
"Because of your hair?" Cid asks, amusement clear in his voice.
"No, because that means she's already seen what will happen and knows she's right. Bloody Echo." You can just about hear the pout.
More importantly, you now have even more questions about who you were before the current you arrived.
'Maybe you know less about time travel than you should.'