In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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There aren't enough praises in the world I'd like to give to wonderful coders for the Proboards community. The following have contributed to World Destiny in some way: W3 Schools for countless how-tos and countless of other souls who have helped get WD up to where it is.
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Observing herself in the mirror, which was rather rare for the young knight to be doing, she frowned. These clothes were tighter than the corsets that she wore in Eucharistia. Wow...just how long had she been sleeping for her to put on this much...
Antique blushed. Girth?
Not to mention it was biting into her skin. There was no way she was going to be able to move about freely in these clothes anymore. Not without looking like a hussy. That was...simply not acceptable. Picking at a lock at her hair she noticed that her origional color was coming in as well...
Sighing, she knew it was going to be a very busy, busy day. But there was no way she was going to be able to go out in public with these clothes. But whose was she going to borrow? None of her other ones fit either. Surely not Lady Jadis--she could never wear anything as elegant as that without pulling stares.
Mikhail was probably in the next room over, snoring.
Wait. Mikhail.
Walking away from the mirror, she tiptoed into Mikhail's room, and stared at clothing neatly folded onto a chair. It surely wouldn't hurt if she just...borrowed them for a little bit, right?
Sneaking into his room, she thought of herself as a friend she had just met, Yuffie. She was sure this was not a good example, but...she reached over and plucked his jacket off the chair.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF YOU ENDED UP SLAIN BY ONE OF THEM."
Even though Mikhail didn't have the worst sleeping problems ever, he had certainly overslept once again. Those recent late nights were surely the ones to blame and it all had been because of her. Even though he didn't like to admit it, those recent breakouts of hers had worried him a tad too much. You could say he had become rather overprotective of Antique since her awakening; the pyromancer didn't want her to be in harm's way, especially with all the Heartless around in Traverse Town.
And yet she managed to escape from her little pretty sanctuary every single night, keeping him awake at night until his body couldn't last any longer. The girl needed her own share of freedom, yes, but the male just wanted her to be safe.
The past months had been quite devastating for him. Mikhail continuously blamed himself for her sleeping condition; he had been the one to take her away to Disney Castle, after all. The pyromancer had truly missed her company, having visited her icy tomb with quite a high frequency. He often talked to her and, while he knew she wouldn’t be able to reply, hoped that she would at least utter a single word...
A disturbance.
Eyes adjusting to a sudden burst of light, Rutherford reached up to rub his still sleepy eyes. Coming back from dreamland when he hadn't been sleeping so well again to begin with wasn't really something to enjoy or find joy within. Under any other circumstances, he would have simply rolled to his left in an attempt to draw sleep to him. However, that shadow was a tad too familiar... and it surely wasn't his...
And just as if his alarm clock had started to obnoxiously beep once again, his eyes suddenly opened wide. The pyromancer pulled himself up as he rose, now sitting on the Red Room's bed of crimson. Before he realized what was going on, he found himself staring at the maiden before him. Mikhail's eyes crawled down her arm until they fixed themselves on the treasure she held in her grasp.
She was impossible!
"Care to explain what you're doing in my room so late at night? And more importantly: -where- the hell have you been?"
Oh, no, he wasn't angry at her...
He was disappointed.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "MAYBE I'LL TAKE YOU THERE... SOMEDAY..."
"Care to explain what you're doing in my room so late at night? And more importantly: -where- the hell have you been?"
Mikhail had waken up so quickly--and blasted alarm clock had went off! Antique had definately timed this very poorly. Antique froze, not exactly knowing what to do--but looking very much like a kid who had got caught with her hand down the cookie jar in the middle of the night. Tugging at the edges of her floppy hat, pulling more of it over her head, she frowned, trying to think of an excuse.
"I was..uhm...here to borrow your coat..." she said, folding her arms over her chest delicately. And that part was true--she just didn't sound very convincing about it whatsoever.
"And I've been out! I can't sleep!" she said. She heard the sound in his voice, and had responded with a kind of defensive sound herself--call it immature, yeah--but hey, he had started yelling at her!
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF YOU ENDED UP SLAIN BY ONE OF THEM."
Eyes of blue narrowed as she gave him that look. Antique could be such a child at times, curiouser and curiouser like a certain Alice in Wonderland. Rutherford continued to stare at the maiden of blue, his hands tightly curled into fists while he listened to her excuse.
"Well, I would've been glad to lend it to you... that is, if you had asked for it before going all sneaky mode at night." He took a step forward, snatching the pearl white jacket away before holding it close to his chest moments later. A soft sigh escaped his lips as Mikhail closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself. Though she had woken the beast from his sleep, he shouldn't have raised his voice.
"I'm sorry... that wasn't the way to go about it." The pyromancer tried to offer her a warm smile as he placed the white jacket back around the chair. "So you can't sleep, huh? Something troubling you?"
Mikhail looked at her once more, awaiting her story. He had time; after all, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep any time soon.
Suddenly, however, the man noticed that new floppy hat that Antique had started wearing ever since she had stepped out of the ice tomb. He had been wondering about the accessory for quite a while and this seemed like the right time to question her about it.
"And what's up with the hat, Tiki? Not like there's any sun around here..."
With a quick arm movement, Mikhail pulled the hat off her head.
And he had to admit, he was shocked.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "MAYBE I'LL TAKE YOU THERE... SOMEDAY..."
Sucking in a gasp of suprise when Mikhail snatched the pearl white coat away from her, Antique interpreted what he had done as a challenge, but she supressed the urge. Her face turned red, and not exactly in the happy way. Kind of like the time he had called her a cow. She turned her head away, like a defiant child, and mummbled, "I didn't want to wake you up." Just because she couldn't sleep didn't mean she had to pester everyone about her.
She snuck a peak at him as he apologized, and let her arms fall to her side. It was hard to stay angry with Mikhail...
"A...little bit..." she said. Though it was troubling the girl alot. "It's really about...." she started, not getting the chance to finish what she saw saying, as Mikhail inquired about the hat. Antique instinctively took a step back, her eyes wide like a deers in shock--though it wasn't quick enough for her to avoid the hat being took off her head.
A cascade of red tendrils fluttered out from under the hat, framing her face. Near the end, the bit of blue and pink dyes. Eyes wide with disbelief, she shook her head from left to right, her face turning red with so much embarassment that it matched the red lockes right before she let out a traumatized yell.
Not thinking, she picked up Mikhail's coat once again, and thrrew it at his face, and fleed from the room.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF YOU ENDED UP SLAIN BY ONE OF THEM."
He hadn't expected to receive such reaction.
Still, Mikhail had to admit it; he was really shocked. He knew her hair color was a tad too strange to be natural and he had suspected the use of a dye or two, but the fact that she was a ginger... well, it had never crossed his mind. Antique looked quite surprised, perhaps even fearful as he held the floppy hat within his left hand's grip. The pyromancer just stared at her. He wasn't holding back any laughter seeking to escape him; he just continued to look at her, wondering what would happen now that her "secret" had been discovered.
She screamed; it was quite loud, forcing the pyromancer to wince for a moment. Had he disturbed her so much? Had he made her feel that uncomfortable? A soft sigh escaped his lips as he looked at her once more. Her cheeks were a burning crimson by now; Mikhail hadn't really realized how cute she looked when angered...
Suddenly, he was hit with his very own jacket.
Damn... she had caught him off guard. Throwing her weapon outside, Rutherford realized that the girl had taken the opportunity to escape. Not giving it a second thought, he quickly grabbed a black t-shirt resting on the nearby chair and ran outside the Red Room. He ran, attempting to put the clothing item on while trying to keep up with her. Antique was certainly scared, and therefore she ran faster than usual, just like a small animal would while being chased by a predator.
"Hey! Wait up!" he shouted, dashing through the hall. If he had been acting through reason, Mikhail wouldn't run out of the hotel in just a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. But right now he only wanted to catch up with Ms. Ginger.
Rutherford followed her around and, once he was close enough, he pounced at her, just like a cat would. The pyromancer held her tightly, and he wasn't thinking of letting her go anytime soon.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "MAYBE I'LL TAKE YOU THERE... SOMEDAY..."
Antique ran, fueled with the horror that someone knew her ugly little secret. If she ran, maybe he'd go back to bed, she'd have her hair cut and dyed, and by the morning, she could convince him that it was just a dream and what-was-he-talking-about-red-hair-pfft!
She turned down a number of hallways, knocking things down accidently as she ran, and probably a couple of bystanders. Not that she was watching--she was a tiny thing, but she packed strength enough to weild a full fledged claymore! Just as she threw open the doors to the hotel to run into the ever-cool night air, she was pounced, and knocked to the ground.
It knocked the air out of her, especially considering Mikhail was considerably bigger than her, but once she collected her brain, she started wiggling desperatly to get away.
"Let me go, let me go, let me go!"
Tears started collecting in her eyes, and bright red hair splayed around her as she tried to move her wrists--and she could, especially when she was in panic mode. "I don't want you to see me like this!" she sobbed.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF YOU ENDED UP SLAIN BY ONE OF THEM."
Raindrops began falling from the sky, just as if a flock of angels weeped upon observing the scene. The pyromancer attempted to keep the girl in place, at least until her panic hour came to an end. If he was to release her in her current condition, he was completely sure that she would just run away once again. Unfortunately Antique had quite a big bundle of strength to back up her lithe body and she was closer to escaping her captor's grasp as the seconds went by.
Completely soaked by now, Mikhail stared at her. He pinned the maiden to the ground while he attempted to keep her in place by holding her shaking wrists. The look he gave her, though gentle, still carried a certain air of fierceness along with it. She wanted to go away; she wanted to hide. She didn't want him to see her like that.
"You're an idiot; did you know that?" The words suddenly escaped his lips, but there was no turning back now. After all, what was wrong with being a ginger? "Why are you so ashamed of it? Why do you always run away from your problems?"
"Would you please grow up, Antique?!"
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "MAYBE I'LL TAKE YOU THERE... SOMEDAY..."
Forcing her wrists to move around was a bit bigger of a problem than Antique could have asked for. Given his position on her, he had the definate upper hand. She couldn't even get her wrists to go down so she could push herself upward. It felt like being a caged cat...And the limited movement only made it worse for the girl.
The felt the pelt of rain on the back of her head--and almost immediately calmed down enough, albeit momentarily. It was her natural element, afterall. Being encased in a tomb of ice for months on end would definately have that effect on anyone.
But just as she was about to calm down, Mikhail's words--which were fighting words, by the way, just struck up a chord to really make her angry. Her cheeks burst into reds--and oooh--if she could only face him, she would have yelled right back at him. To onlookers, it was much like watching a volcado explode to meet a tsunami.
The rain started falling in spaztic patterns around the two--at least, within Antique's immediate magical range.
"I hate that color," Antique hissed between clentched teeth. It didn't make much sense, but that was what she said.
Mikhail opened his mouth once more, intending to release another barrage of fighting words at her. However after listening to what she had to say, nothing seemed to come out of his lips. His expression softened as he continued to look at her, not with eyes of fury but with those of surprise. So, that was it? Was that the reason behind her sudden annoyance? A soft sigh escaped him as he relaxed, weakening the grip he had on the girl.
The pyromancer wanted to say something; he wanted to apologize, to comfort her and get the silly idea out of her head. Still, no words came out. They were completely soaked in the rain by now, laying in that cold, deserted street. He stared deep into her eyes for what seemed to be a few moments or perhaps an hour or two. Mikhail wouldn't move... or maybe he couldn't move.
"You're beautiful." The words suddenly escaped him, and they sure weren't something he had considered saying. But there was no turning back now. "Redheaded or not, you're still beautiful. And I know what I'm about to say will be sounding really cheesy, but you must know people don't usually care about how you look. At least I don't."
The man rose, extending a hand to help her stand up. One would be expecting some blushing on his face, but the pyromancer was actually calm; he had seen this coming... sort of, at least. If someone just looked at him, they probably wouldn't be able to guess that he had been about to explode moments ago.
"You're a wonderful person, Antique. My life, my personality, my ideals... my whole being has changed ever since I met you. If you weren't here, with me... I wouldn't be the person who I am right now. I..."
Mikhail stopped, his voice suddenly trailing off. The phrase died in his throat. He couldn't say it; for some reason he couldn't utter those three words and it killed him. The pyromancer looked away, focusing on the falling raindrops in an attempt to gain some courage. Should he say it casually, in a sarcastic way? Or should he just look at her, straight in the eye like before, and bluntly tell her how he felt? The longer he thought about it, the quicker his heart raced.
Frankly he wasn't quite ready for that.
"I- I care for you." he managed to say, gazing deep into those eyes of amber. The man had lost control; he was blushing. "I care for you and I don't really know why, I just do. The past months were a living hell for me; the possibility of having you not wake up popped into my head every single day and it terrified me. I- I don't want to lose you again... I wouldn't be able to live with that."
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "MAYBE I'LL TAKE YOU THERE... SOMEDAY..."
Antique cringed, preparing herself for another onslaught of fighting words. A volcano meeting a tsunami was kind of what those two were like when they were fighting. It might have been the incompatibility of their latent elements, however. Her eyes, that were once pink, now amber (since amber eyes tended to shift with whatever the person was wearing—just plain science, mind you), glared up at him, as if challenging him to say something. Anything. Despite Antique’s usual carefree demeanor, her life had been a life of conflict—and she was not afraid of a fight if she needed to do it.
Mikhail’s grip lessened on her, and she knew it. Just as she was about to knock him off her with her inhuman strength when she was angry, he said:
“You’re beautiful”.
After he rose, he offered her a hand. She stared up at him with a deer in the headlights kind of look. Slipping a delicate, yet calloused from sword-playing hand into his, she stared at him, surprised. Standing up, soaked from the rain—her hair sticking to the sides of her face. He talked, and she listened, without saying much of a word. He paused several times, not sure about what he was going to say.
Antique stepped closer, and stood on her tippy toes, putting her hands on his shoulders, and reached up, to gently, quietly, and sweetly, kiss him on the lips.
She didn’t have anything to say to him, after all. It was just much easier to do something than to say anything.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "DON'T YOU REMEMBER WHEN I WAS A BIRD"
Mikhail sighed, quite relieved by the fact that he wouldn't be forced to hide his feelings for the ginger anymore. It was done; she knew how he felt about her. She knew he liked her. But still, there was the possibility of this being yet another unrequited love. Uncertainty and remorse soon began their flight across the pyromancer's heart. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all; maybe he should have kept such emotions only to himself.
The man quickly looked away, not wanting to meet her gaze now. Of course, she could be showing another one of her radiant smiles but what if this wasn't the case? He didn't want to see while she gave him the "poor Mikhail, such a miserable guy" look so many people had given him before. The last thing he wanted from Antique was pity.
Hell, why had he ruined their friendship like this?!
Watching her move in the corner of his eye, Rutherford couldn't help but to gaze at her once more. She didn't utter a single word; the maiden gently held his shoulders and before he knew it his lips were softly pressed against hers. Widening his eyes the pyromancer was certainly surprised by Antique's actions, slowly succumbing to the moment's passion and her kiss.
Their kiss.
Unfortunately it was short-lived; even though it had been just a small peck, her message had been delivered. Feeling that warmth on his chest, Mikhail knew all was well. He decided to follow Antique's example, not saying anything at all. The pyromancer looked at her, cupping her cheek in silence before leaning forward to kiss her. It was a blissful oblivion; in that moment she was the only real thing in his world. After what could have been an hour or possibly several days, they broke apart.
"I love you." he finally said, grinning down at her: his charming little redhead.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "AND YOU WERE A MAP?"
Her first kiss! Her first kiss! Antique had not quite been thinking about her actions as usual—she only let whatever the moment said, and let her gut take her where she had—and often needed to be. It was strange though. Kissing. She had only seen others do it. And she had often thought it was a gross kind of thing (saliva? Seriously? Gross!)
But she didn’t think kissing Mikhail was gross at all. It was kind of. Well. Nice. Cheeks burning as bright red as her hair, she watched him pull away. And hoped she hadn’t misinterpreted anything. It had been bold of her to begin with. Very bold. But she was a knight! She could do things like that. Right? She studied him carefully, with a nervous smile planted on her face.
His hand on her cheek, she held his hands there, relinquishing, bathing in the warmth that it offered. Simple. Clean. Lovely.
I love you.
There they were. Three simple words. Loaded words. Heavy. But spoken with such intense sincerity it made her smile.
Hands entwining behind her back, she smiled, radiantly, that was brighter than any star.
“I love you, too!”
And they were true. She didn’t really have to think about it. Antique just knew she did. The one person who could get under her skin, could get her mad, but could make her laugh harder, and cry harder, and smile harder than anyone else in all the worlds—was him.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "AND NOW HE DRAGS DOWN MILES IN AMERICA"
He couldn't help but offer a smile upon hearing those words. Mikhail was quite happy; he really was. He loved her and she had just stated that she loved him back. The man chuckled, softly caressing her cheek as he continued to look at her. He felt such happiness, such peace... the whole experience could certainly turn out to be nothing more than a fantasy, a wonderful mirage created from his deepest wish.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?" He certainly hoped he wasn't. Mikhail patted the ginger in a... well, gingerly way, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. He had not forgotten their first chance meeting, and the young male's memories of the event remained quite vivid. Rutherford had trully fallen for Antique when he first laid eyes on her — his infatuation for her even started to break him at some point. Deep down he had known it all along; Faustus was the one for him. His stubborness and cold demeanor had blinded him, and, after all, he wasn't the kind of person to believe in the so called "love at first sight".
The girl had changed him in many ways and for the better. After facing so many wars and deaths throughout his life, Mikhail had slowly begun walking down a dark path that would eventually strip all emotion from his being. The pyromancer had even started to see his feelings as his biggest weakness and attempted to seal them away by shielding his thoughts and developing a pokerface. The final straw eventually broke upon witnessing the deaths of Rubix, Mira and Erika, especially Mira's, by Hades's hand. Sure by those times he already had the vague idea and concept for The Guardians of the Worlds, but the man had had enough for a while.
And in that stage of confusion and uncertainty, they met. He had first heard her voice in Traverse Town, right when he needed someone to talk to; right when he needed her. The music she made was lovely and her beauty certainly enticed him, but what had actually drawn him in was her childish, immature self. Antique possessed something he had lost long ago: innocence. The girl was full of compassion and warmth and sweetness.
But he knew he couldn't do it — he couldn't fall in love with her, no matter how easy and fulfilling it would be. He was walking a path she couldn't follow, or rather one that he wouldn't let her follow. She would eventually suffer and there would be a time where he'd find himself unable to protect her. Still he couldn't tear himself away from Antique and her bright amber eyes. He followed his instinct, he listened to his heart, he serenaded her, he bought her lunch... and he knew he was doing what he didn't want to do in the first place.
But he had been wrong. Mikhail hadn't been taking her down the highway to hell; she had instead pulled him away from that path and now they both walked through a much brighter road. The pyromancer embraced her, gently stroking her hair. His senses quickly became engulfed with her and her sweet flowery scent. However, there was just one tiny little detail...
"We should go back inside. It's freezing out here." he softly whispered to her ear, releasing her before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. How long had they been out there? And more importantly, how many people had been watching their little love scene? Making a mental note to later tease her with the possibilities, Rutherford led Antique back inside. After all, he probably should get completely dressed.
M I K H A I L R U T H E R F O R D "BRIEFCASE IN HAND"
