Tales of Symphonia: Flourish

[sincere]

I'M NOT OBSESSED. But I've written two drabbles and now I have this bigger thing threatening.

So, in Tales of Symphonia, there are two parallel worlds which live in an introverted relationship: Mana can only flow to one of them at any given time, meaning there's always a "flourishing" world and a "declining" world. Both worlds have a Chosen One in every generation who, if the world is declining, goes on a journey of regeneration and, if successful, switches the alignment. Then their world prospers and the other world suffers, and then that world eventually succeeds in reversing the balance, ad infinitum.

There's a lot of journal RPs in the fandom where things are reversed: Tethe'alla declines and its Zelos is the one who goes on the world regeneration journey, instead of Colette, who canonically is the Chosen One from the declining Sylvarant.

I think it's bull. Zelos, raised in a declining world, wouldn't be the Zelos we know and love. Possibly more than anyone else in the entire cast, Zelos is a child of his surroundings. If he had been raised in other circumstances he would be a totally different person: not having been rich, pampered, beloved, revered, treated like a celebrity from birth, he wouldn't be the extravagant charming gorgeous playboy we're used to.

I want to do an AU. I want Zelos to do the journey. But I'm thinking of the game continuity up to the Tower of Salvation. In a continuity where the party reluctantly decides that if Colette has to die to regenerate the world, maybe Sylvarant is more important than Colette's life.



.flourish.
Traveling in the center of a squadron of Papal Knights marching double-time was definitely not the way to tour the world. Zelos spent the hours singing slave songs and making loud inflammatory observations, which the Papal Knights ignored solidly. If they didn't have to take off their armor to sleep, revealing actual humans underneath, Zelos might have assumed they were some new inventions of Altessa's, mobile yet lifeless suits of armor. When they reached towns, they hardly allowed him to spy a skirt, and seemed to be doing their utmost to keep him from talking to the women in them. They boarded a ship to cross to Sybak and they kept him under the deck the whole time. He informed them it was the worst cruise he had ever been on. They did not seem interested in redeeming themselves.

He had been to the seal of earth already and now he seemed to have wings, fiery orange-red things that curled from his back. He wondered wistfully if women would like them but he had no way of knowing. It had been twenty-four hours since he had bothered trying to eat and the knights hadn't bothered ordering food for him on the ship.

Zelos was terrified. He wondered if the knights really were there to hold him prisoner to his cause, as much as to protect him.

Then came the attack.

...

The first he knew of it was when a man landed neatly behind him and wrenched his arms behind his back. Zelos strangled a yelp in time to salvage his dignity as suddenly the Papal Knights were beset from all sides; a whirlwind of light and snow in an overcast forest, slashing blades.

They have Exspheres? No bandits, these.

"Don't be afraid, Chosen," said an educated baritone from behind him, the man whose powerful arms held him motionless. The voice froze his blood. "We mean you no harm."

He knew that voice. It matched with a face, and a name came to mind. "--Botta." The Renegade. It was somewhat reassuring but he couldn't control the irrational panic that seized him; the half-elf touching him, a threat, no no, not the blood, and he discovered in his moment of struggle that the tall half-elf's grip was not as iron as he had assumed.

Calm returned. Zelos quieted immediately, hiding the potential he felt to break free.

"Yes, I am. And these are friends."

The violence had died down and the perpetrators approached over the bodies of the fallen Papal Knights: a brunet young swordsman and two silver-haired mages. He looked human and they looked elven but if they were with the Renegades they might all be half-elves.

Zelos felt at the moment that he would have preferred the Papal Knights, as tiresome company as they'd proved. "Someone want to tell me what's going on?" he said mildly, as if unconcerned by the entire event.

"We're here to help you," said the brunet. He looked tired. "And to stop you from making a big mistake."

"What kind of mistake?"

"Sacrificing yourself."

Wild relief and dark, self-deprecating irony battled for control of his features. Oh good. Someone wants me to live. Not the King or the Pope or my father or Seles or a really gorgeous female. Half-elves. It figures. At least one of them was a gorgeous female.

"I know you must have a lot of questions," Botta said formally, and released Zelos enough to bind his wrists with durable but comfortable bindings. "I promise they will be answered. But you can understand the need to get far away from here."

Zelos did not struggle despite the somewhat rough handling. He lifted his eyebrows at the silver-haired woman. "The only question on my mind is the name of this lovely lady."

Her eyebrows arched in return. "What kind of a thing is that to say when you're being tied up and kidnapped?" demanded the boy at her side.

Botta seemed to agree. "I don't think that's appropriate. Introductions will be conducted later." He nudged Zelos forward pointedly. The others fell into stride ranged around him, looking tired and uneasy. They clustered together and seemed to share some sorrow.

Zelos tried singing slave songs again as they marched, but no one understood their clever significance. He was so unappreciated.