A pleasant evening. The moon shining above the skies of Limerry, an open window to the library, and of course the Marquis’ favorite tea in a porcelain cup. How long had it been since he tasted the pleasures of life? Gently grasping the cup he placed it against his lips and tasted the warm aroma of rose and tea. Ah, miss Mary never failed to make the perfect brew for him every time.
Crimson hues gazed out the open window. Ivalice was seen to be at a peace, but something seemed amiss. In the distance, a rather odd barrier had formed. A…mist? A fog? The Marquis was not sure. Perhaps another visit was needed. Nevertheless, the time was well spent in recovering Limberry.
Eyes snapped opened, awakening to what seemed to be an endless void. A white nothingness. Where had the Marquis gone? The white light felt almost welcoming, yet, it presented an ominous air. Was this to be heaven?
Within the walls of Limberry castle, the undercroft, were his last moments where humanity resided within the demon that possessed his soul. He could still feel as the Divine Knight’s blade fell down upon him, the same with the Beoulve boy. Was he to be truly at peace?
Though now he found himself alone. Celia and Lettie, both slain by those knights. Sitting up from the small bed, he idly wondered were they here as well? He prayed that he could find them both. No other mattered in his eyes but those two females. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he pressed his face into his knees, murmuring.
“Celia, Lettie, I pray you are alive wherever you may be. Please, I pray to find you here with me as well.”
His frame shook. Closing his eyes, he could no longer bear to gaze at the shining white that surrounded him. Was this the devil within him as well hiding from the light? He sat there, curiously, listening in the recesses of his mind to listen faintly for a sign of the reaper.
Be this heaven or be this hell, hume.
Whispering, Elmdore spoke. “I naught know where we have gone. I wish to not answer to you as well. You shall find no answers wherever we may be.”
Even now, his body trembled more. Something had felt missing from him. What could it have been? He questioned for a moment, realizing that Masamune and armor stripped from him, along with the Gemini Auracite. He could hear the reaper chastising him for his actions, Elmdore simply ignored, his thoughts elsewhere.
For now he needed to know; Where was it he had gone after his defeat? Truly was this a place of redemption and solitude? Or would it simply be a repeat of what he had previously gone through.
These words continued to buzz around the Marquis’ head. Celia spoke these words lightly, trying to keep the man calm despite the Hell his mind had been put through. Just how could he accept the Death Seraph?
If you abide to his wishes, he may be merciful enough to allow you your conscious in hours of wake, if Lettie and I request- if you upset him, he will not do as such.
This alone was temptation enough to give his body up completely to the Lucavi. Celia and Lettie…
Though at the beginning, Elmdore was quite wary of them both. Ultima demons in disguise as beautiful woman, he feared they would mock his vain struggle against Zalera. In turn, it was quite the opposite. Attached to the human emotions they gained, Celia herself proved to the Marquis that they cared deeply for him and none other. They would make sure for his safety and well being.
A harsh master, as Celia put it. Quite the opposite of what Elmdore was.
His mind was clouded and dark. At night, he could feel the darkness enveloping his form. Struggling for a breath, to break free, anything at all. How a warrior like Elmdore could be brought to his knees by the darkness frightened him.
He would oft be found wandering the halls of where the Templar resided or alone in the Library. He continued to ponder what Celia had spoken to him. Would he be allowed the mercy promised?
Pulling the glimmering stone from his pocket, he glanced at it. The cold it emitted, the ominous air.
Elmdore wished to not know of what this Lucavi looked like.
Could he truly bring himself to accept this as his master, nothing more?
Putting the stone away, he looked for a book, and tried to clear his mind out. Sitting at a table, he watched the rain trickle down it, in silence.
A constant struggle day in and day out the Marquis had to face. The tight hold placed around him by the Angel of Death placed quite a strain onto his mind. Slowly, his sanity began to fall, hearing whispers of the Devil speaking through the back of his head. Breathing his last breath once the Lucavi had a clutch around his neck.
To watch as the angel moved his body and spoke in his words, it truly sickened him. Only when Zalera grew exhausted by constant possession was the Marquis allowed a small time of peace. To beg to God to have mercy on his damned soul.
The stone, all a ploy for the Knights Templar to seek out the strongest of Ivalice and use them. How foolish he was to fall into their hands.
Though believed to be dead, Ceila and Lede would laugh from the shadows. Mocking his struggle to cling onto whatever humanity he had left.
“You had best give up,” Spoke Ceila.
“Give up, you had best.” Spoke Lede.
“For your struggle is to be in vain.” in unison they spoke.
Perhaps it was his servant Mary, who continued to watch from afar what he faced. Though fear had replaced the gentle gaze in her eyes, she had never known who spoke in the Marquis steed. How it pained him to know Zalera had done this to the poor girl, an eternal servitude, and to drag but an innocent soul down to the depths of Hell with the Marquis. He could not allow this.
He would continue to struggle, to keep his sanity. Be that it may Zalera had up most control, he continued to fight.
“Messam Elmdore, I have brought your mid afternoon tea.”