I've un-summoned a veritable portfolio of primals, too, so really, I should've been the last choice for Urianger's little restoration idea.
But I've more or less summoned two primals now.
It's....how to put it...?
A little god of destruction, nastier than the original, courtesy of every other nasty creature that's come for my throat. A Twinning of my own, pieced together like the Ironworks' Tycoon.
A little treat, all to myself.
Did Urianger think the two-headed Leviathan was a mistake--an accidental corruption from my experiences? Or did he predict this, with that intuition of his, and set up an excuse for my little edits?
I'll have to thank him privately, if it's the latter--his theories are so convincing that even I almost believe them.
Thancred said he almost felt sorry for them, but despite their short lives, they're not pitiful--we share the same bloodthirst. Why else would they wait for our arrival, and attack me full force, on sight?
I could have focused on attack patterns I knew, their weak points, the way a primal's power shifts with fewer believers and fewer crystals....but I didn't. And I have no intention of doing so with the other elements.
It's not that I've forgotten the taste of light--bitter and bland, like flour mixed with soap--or the way it burned as it cut bloodlessly through my skin.
But I also can't forget Forgiven Obscenity, and the way her twirling strikes rang out like bells--let alone the more powerful Virtues, or the Lightwardens. Who will represent darkness? Will I get to fight another being of light?
Healing or dancing--just give me a stage. An edge to fall from, a blow to knock me off my feet. A blast to take my breath away.
Is there a more intense feeling than death blowing your hair aside as it misses?
I think not.
And when I finally, properly make the trip to and from the aetherial sea, when fangs and claws finally find purchase and drink deep of my warmth...I hope the next "me" takes after Ardbert. Feral beasts shouldn't be heroes, after all.
In fairness....I know not to create
things to fight--not without permission, at least. The same cloth as Zenos, sewn in a different pattern.
Ugh, I just remembered fighting that impostor.
....Maybe I should swing by the Steppe, ask Sadu if we can have a rematch or five. Yeah....I could make a habit of that. Ishgard, the Steppe, and Norvrandt--travel between the three, spar with whoever is up to it, kill time with whoever isn't...
But that would require the Source to enter an era of peace, and not constantly be summoning primals or having wars or whatever. At this point, I think a primal will eat me first.
Mostly I'm trying not to think about the pile of ore, sea of cotton bolls, and whatever else is left on my gathering list.
Seriously, I've picked enough plant life to clothe half the Crystarium at this point, but by the time I'm done trading things to Rowena....
But I need those recipe books--my gear is a mess and all the items I've ripped into components haven't granted me the ability to recreate them from memory, or make designs of my own. I'm a crafter, not an artist.
Ah well. There's a satisfaction in finishing a tough piece, or making your own gear.
And Il Mheg is as beautiful as ever--day and night, above and in the warm water...
...I still stick out among all the flowers, but that's just the way it is, I suppose.