as-eorzea-turns

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 11

POV: Ojene Suinuet YEAR: 1553 AGE: 27

At the center of a roiling crowd, I took a breath. Then another. Over myself, I forced a calmness, dashing away the conflicted nerves and panicking oscillations. Whatever I’d done had been a catalyst for something I didn’t understand. But here, kneeling on the ground, I was forgotten. The drunks, after all, had found something far more interesting to fixate on- the sight of a very large Roegadyn man bearing down on the back of the tavern.

Even over the jeers and laughs, I heard Sylbfohc’s bellow. “Nazzbryda!”

He was, apparently, intent.

A Hyur’s ass crashed into my head as she careened forward to get a better view. Didn’t even look round to see what she’d done. It was time to get up. I shoved myself to my feet. Over any other crowd, I’d have had a clear view. But Roegadyn ran flush through the crowd, interrupting my glimpses with tall shoulders and taller heads.

I spared a thought to my personal status. My tail of ‘Jackets was surely here, and rest assured they’d catch up with me. Or at least, word would spread of what people had seen. There was no helping whatever came of it now. But there was, still, this situation before me. A puzzle to which I lacked all of the pieces. One that intimately involved the lives of others- least of all that wild-eyed girl who deserved better than to be discarded. And the barmaids who apparently saw her father as a threat.

Brother. Is that really what I heard? Part of a language barely familiar to me in more than a few passing words and phrases. It could have been anything, I told myself, and there was only one way to find out.

Perhaps one would say I was only digging a hole deeper as I shouldered my way forward through the crowd. Well, they’d probably be right. But if I was going to walk this path, I was going to walk it fully.

And I hadn’t done anything wrong.

When I burst from the front of the crowd, immediately I felt all the eyes at my back. I’d drawn the sort of attention I didn’t want, placed myself at the center of a vortex I’d learned was better to avoid. Sylbfohc’s companions had caught up with him- at least the Yellowjackets had. The trio had redonned their jackets, one standing at his side with a hand on his shoulder. The other two lingered back- but not too far. But whatever was passing between them was set abruptly beside as all their heads swiveled, eyes alighting on me. They widened- then narrowed, surprise and suspicion plain on the Yellowjackets’ faces.

But beneath their gazes, I lifted my head. As unwise as this was, the situation was never about me.

I stood my ground.

"Is the fact that the tavernmaids just whisked a screaming child out of sight to apparently avoid the wrath of her brutish father something I should be worried about?" I snapped, and my eyes flicked to the still steaming possibly-father Sylbfohc.

He uttered a note of disgust, his broad nose wrinkling as he looked away.

After a beat, the Roegadyn at his shoulder cleared his throat and straightened his back. “No,” he spoke- his clear firm tone of authority obviously meant to impress me. “It’s nothing to worry about.” But an undercurrent bristled under his voice, a shrouded threat. And not meant for me- for his eyes swept meaningfully towards Sylbfohc.

Yes. The ‘Jackets were trying to keep the peace. But I sure as hell knew that sometimes ‘peacekeepers’ loved to sweep things beneath the rugs when it suited them. So, I rounded my shoulders their way, ready to strike back- but no sooner than I opened my mouth did another pair of ‘Jackets burst from behind me.

My heart plummeted.

Shite.

“You!” The shorter of my tail jabbed her finger at my face as she strode to my side. “Wha’ in th’ seven hells were yeh doin’, Duskwight?”

She spat my race like an epithet- and beneath its fury, my back stiffened. And I found myself fighting the urge to recoil.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I said.

But the crowd had other ideas.

"She tried to snatch a little girl!" someone hollered, and a few more voices hooted in assent.

"Aye!" Another shouted from farther back. "The big'un's seed!" And he jabbed one hand over the crowd at none other than Sylbfohc.

I felt my breath arrest, my eyes go wide. “No! I-”

But before I could make my protest, before I could try to explain, the pair of ‘Jackets bore down on me. “Save it,” the other one snapped as they closed in on my sides. “I saw th’ whole thing.”

A factual lie. I saw no fucking yellow. But I couldn’t help but take a step back. “If you think I tried to snatch her, then you didn’t." Anger evened my voice, striking away my uncertainty.

But it was of no help when the older barmaid burst again from the back- the young girl nowhere to be seen. "Out!" she bellowed, her lips pressed tight together. "All 'o' yeh! We've enough 'citement tonight withou' riskin' Fraefyr's crew ter wake from the brothels. Now, move!"

Before I could so much as blink, the pair of ‘Jackets seized my arms in a vice-like grip. “Yer comin’ with us.”

A strangled sound left me. “No! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

And before me, Sylbfohc growled. "I'll go nowhere 'til I-" But as he wrenched his shoulder free, all three ‘Jackets were on him.

“Pipe down, you!” one snarled- and the five of them worked to force us to the door.

I didn’t struggle- that would make the whole thing worse- but he did. The sounds of scuffle broke out behind me, and the crowd roared in delight. No. I wasn’t going to give anyone sort of satisfaction, let alone actually do something wrong. Instead, I fought back with the only way I knew how in such a situation.

With my lungs.

But there was nothing I could do, no argument I could lob, no demonstration of their shortsightedness, no vociferous protest of the assumptions they’d brought down on me. No matter what I said, they didn’t budge. And in silence, they dragged me on.

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @diskwrite-ffxiv, @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, and @blood-moon-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 10

POV: Ojene Suinuet YEAR: 1553 AGE: 27

The girl was gone.

A low curse escaped my lips, and in front of me Koenwyna skittered into the crowd. The barmaid’s desperate attempt to stop whatever was coming. It could have been an exaggeration. But I’d shot up straight my chair- my nostrils flared with sudden intensity as I craned to peer through the drunks. She was there. She had to be.  

Shite.

Despite everything I’d already done, everything I’d poised to do- I was frozen. A weight deadened my limbs, and a hesitation thumped in my heart. No one had to tell me this was a bad idea. I already knew. Any sensible person in my position would keep their head down and not make waves.

Sensible. Hah. My boots ground against the stained wooden floor as a pressure rippled through me like the drawing of a bow- the energy lifted me in my seat even as a thousand calculations ran through my head.

This would not end well for me. Not unless… there.

A slip of hair the color of pale sea-foam dashing between two men, one that barely rose to their waists. My eyes snapped to her.

Too late I realized I’d pushed halfway from my chair. Tension springing against a leaden wall. Koenwyna broke from the crowds, sweeping through the opposite side of the room. She was too far. She didn’t see- her head turned the other way. But the girl was moving. And fast.

Toward Sylbfohc.

I could be wrong. It could be different. The barmaids might get out of this just fine. But I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t… Fuck. There was only one way. I shot forward.

I was too tall. Too obvious. But the crowd was drunk, and so were they at the table. I could do this. My shoulders hunched as I elbowed through the crowd, ducking behind a massive Roegadyn as I cut a sideways path to meet with the girl’s. I heard their protests, saw their looks as I shoved through- but it was all unimportant. I had to get to her.

And I did.

From between a pair of Hyur I burst, and the girl darted before me. To one knee, I fell. And all at once, I shot out a hand to grab her skinny arm.

“Someone’s looking for you-” I whispered, my voice rough as I threw it her way.

But she whirled with a force I wouldn’t have expected from someone so young. And I stopped, a shiver insinuating itself down my spine as her angry eyes met mine. Wild. Intelligent.

“Uh-” I licked my lips, a sudden panic throwing my heart into a frantic tattoo. No, no, no- I had to think of something to say. I took in a breath, calm, and reached down inside. Softer. Gentler. I pulled it out of my core, like tugging soil off a netty mesh of roots, and let it bloom across my face as best as I could. “You’re looking for your father, yeah?”

“Let go of me-” she whined, but even as she yanked against my grip, a voice hissed nearby.

“Moengeim!” Koenwyna. “Where are you, girl? Ye'd best show yerself if you've any sense in wha's good fer yeh!"

The girl froze. And her dark eyes darted between the direction of the barmaid’s voice towards the table. Still concealed behind a few layers of people. That table. His.

Hells. A pain knelled in my heart, my free hand crimping at my side. But the girl wasn’t listening- and no one had told her.

I took a breath. My eyelids fluttered. And I said the words maybe no one else had dared to say. "I know you want to see your father. But... he doesn't want to see you."

In all honesty, I don’t know what I expected that to accomplish. I thought she deserved to hear it. That much was true. Maybe I thought the girl had to have known deep down. That perhaps hearing it out loud from a stranger would rip her free from a dangerous man. One who cared far more about alcohol and sex than his own daughter.

I’m not sure.

But I do know, as soon as I said it, naked pain flickered through her face. A wide-eyed disbelief that in an instant, wiped away her wild rage. But in the next breath it changed. Contorted. And all the anger rushed right back in.

“No!” she shrieked, her young voice slicing through the din. Tears sprang to her eyes as her face twisted into a furious mask. “Liar!”

My breath caught in my chest- was the sudden void of sound around me in my imagination? The glint of eyes sure wasn’t, as all the faces circling us turned to see me clasping the arm of a furiously thrashing girl.

Fuck. But what if- I couldn’t- if I let her go- wouldn’t she run? Hells, I don’t know why but I held on tighter, spluttering my protests to the air.

"No, no, no, no!" My gaze rolled to the crowd, to their drunken frowns, their discerning eyes- “I'm just- you're not- I'm-"

But like a snake in the grass, she lashed out. One small foot crashed into my shin. Pain burst behind my eyes, completely by surprise. And with a yelp, I let go.

The girl ran.

But she made it one, two, three steps before the older barmaid burst from the crowd. “Yeh rascal!” In a single sweep, she snatched the girl up, pinning her in an instant to her breast. The maid’s arms encased around her like a prison, trapping her arms while suppressing her frantic kicks.

“Koenwynza, yeh great lark!” she growled, as the hapless younger barmaid stumbled red-faced into view. "Get him outta 'ear-" she tipped her head towards a single man pushing his way through the crowd, his height carrying him over almost everyone else in the crowd. "-now!”

Sylbfohc. The veneer of charm was gone, replaced by a deep-set rage that burned through his eyes.

And in a breath, the girl’s eyes locked on him and him alone.

But instead of the word I expected to hear, the screech of father or fatyr, one of the few Sea Wolf words I had managed to pick up, she howled something entirely different.

“Broda!” screamed the girl.

Just like that, the maid whisked her away. And on the floor, I lingered- but not because of the dying twinge of pain in my shin. The fullness of it all washed through me, the realization that stole my breath.

Broda.

Brother?

Oh.

After the girl, Sylbfohc thundered, his hands balled into fists. And all around us, the crowd whooped and hollered.

"Fight, fight, fight, FIGHT!"

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @diskwrite-ffxiv, @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, and @blood-moon-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 9

POV: Ojene Suinuet YEAR: 1553 AGE: 27

Gods, this tavern was dirty.

I don’t know what else I expected. But no one else seemed to mind- least of all the throng of sailors fresh off the sea that swayed in just minutes before. Voices rang, mugs clinked, and tavern wenches danced to and fro, dodging the roaming hands that drifted their way.

Great.

And I was all too aware of the attention I drew- all too cognizant of the eyes that roamed across my face and lower. It was mostly men that flooded this tavern tonight, and apparently their interests were singular. My shoulders flared to my ears as I hunched over my eponymous mug of Aleport ale. This was not where I wanted to be.

A gruff voice to my left. “M’lady, yer eyes-”

“Fuck off,” I growled.

The voice grumbled, and a looming presence swung away.

There was only a fourth of the mug left. I could leave it and go. But it was my drink, I paid for it, and I’d be damned if I let these amorous arsewipes drive me away from it. Though… suppose it couldn’t hurt if I made it disappear a bit faster. I tipped it back.

But as I hastily gulped my drink, face buried in the recesses of my glass, at the corners a flash of yellow caught my eye. At first I didn’t think much of it- maybe the pair of lackadaisical Yellowjackets that had been following me since I returned from the debriefing had finally moved themselves to a place that could see me through the crowd. But when I pulled the mug away, it was not my tail I spied across the tavern, but three of them I’d never seen before… taking their seats with a few others in tow. Skoenthota and Sylbfohc included.

The ‘Jackets tossed their namesakes over the backs of their chairs, and one of the tavern wenches swung their way.

I stared.

Leaned forward, in fact. Screw the waves of sailors, I was going to watch this. Maybe I could even join their table. But the idea fizzled just as quickly as it was born- as good as it might be for my chances with the Silvercloaks to bond with my potential comrades in arms, the ‘Jackets would hardly welcome my presence. It was better to remain.

Besides. Apparently Sylbfohc was busy.

Even from here I could tell. That charming smear he’d applied even to our brief encounter was present in spades. The flourishing way he shuffled their deck of cards. The lilt of his smile. The way he narrowed in on Skoenthota beside him. It was almost fascinating really. How a man could be so entirely fake, but have an entire table eating from the palm of his hand.

Even the barmaid who served them drew to his side. But it was with her, at last, that the spell was broken- whatever flirtatious dalliance he applied shattered as she pulled suddenly away. Not that the rest seemed to notice- he launched right back to his ministrations, and from it they derived delight.  

I watched them, like one might observe a beast in a cage. Even if I wasn’t going to join in their revelries, I could at least glean whatever knowledge I could. Every little bit counts, when you’re trying to land a job.

So fixated I was, I almost didn’t notice her. Truth be told, it was only the incongruity that drew my eye. At first I didn’t believe it- someone of that short a stature in a place like this was surely a Lalafell. But, no… as I turned my head, awareness of the greater room came roaring back. And she presented herself to my attention like a petal scattered over a bed of snow.

A girl.

A girl?

She was barely five, maybe six. A Roegadyn child, winding her way through the sailors with ease. I couldn’t help the frown that broke across my face- what was she doing here? A nervous knell shivered down my spine, and I shot a glance at the crowds. Were they a trustworthy lot? I didn’t know this place. But I did know what became of young women in the wrong hands, and the people around me were blank, dangerous unknowns.

I kept one eye on the table, but the other fixed on her.

And hesitantly, I tried to reason with myself.

Surely someone’s got an eye on her. Her parents have got to be nearby. The ‘Jackets wouldn’t let anything happen….

Just like the Lancers weren’t going to betray you?

The thought gripped my throat, spiked through my core. Ached with that still too fresh scar written across my chest. I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t. Trusting people like them to handle things is what lets people die.

So it was, that I was actually paying attention when the first barmaid erupted from the back- the very same that broke from Sylbfohc’s side.

"—he's ou' there, yah!" she hissed, to the maid across the counter. "I told 'er that! 'Cept the li'le beastie wouldn't 'ear it, would she? Said I was lyin' to 'er sayin' her pop weren't 'ere!"

I leaned closer, but it was hardly necessary- their voices carried well enough across the crowd, at least to my ears.

"Gods blast it, Koenwyna! Yer a shite liar, ye are! We all know it! If she finds 'im ain't no 'Jacket this side 'o' th' Rhotano tha'll save us from 'is wrath! He's a mind to take a lass ter bed tonigh’.”

"I know it! Talked to 'im meself! Told me so 'imself. No interest in seein' his seed."

"Go on, then!" The older woman whispered with blunt force. "Find the li'le monster b'fore she finds 'im!"

And as Koenwyna dashed off into the crowd, a sinking sensation spread over me, shivering down my skin like a bucket of cold water upended over my head.

For I remembered faces all too well- and even from my brief glimpse of that girl, my awareness snapped together. Now that it was presented to me, it was all too clear just whose resemblance she bore.

My eyes dragged back to Sylbfohc at his table.

Shite.

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @diskwrite-ffxiv, @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, and @blood-moon-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 8

POV: Sylbfohc Ostulmsyn YEAR: 1553 AGE: 24

“An Auroch hunt,” I rumbled with exaggerated enthusiasm as Swerdhwynza and I neared the Aleport gates. With the mission details given to us in full, Skoenthota, the shiny kid, and the duskwight lass had gone their separate ways. I’d had ever intention of catching up to Skoenthota, but my stout cousin jerked me aside for a word instead. Goody. “Sounds, excitin’!” I grinned.

“Cut th’ shite,” he growled, wheeling ‘round to throw his large, angry face up into mine.

I stopped abruptly, stiffening my neck against the intimate proximity. “Personal space there, mate!” I tutted like a disapproving seawife, my brows waving upward, and flattened my hand over his face to give it a gentle nudge away from me.

He ignored me, swatting my hand away with a firm chop from his own. “You, of all people, are unwelcome on these missions. On any mission, for tha’ matter!”

“Easy, eeeeeeasy,” I cooed, lowering my face toward his. My answering smile was antagonistically soothing – and short lived – the hefty clap of his open hand across my cheek more than enough to wipe it away. Well. Turn it away at least. I straightened, breathing a laugh as color blossomed in what I imagined would be the perfect shape of a hand across my face. Not the first time. “I’ve as much a right to be there as any,” I chortled, lifting a hand to aide my jaw in a few tender rotations.

“Hah!” He spat a bitter, humorless note. “Why? Because yeh’ve got connections? Because yeh’ve bewitched half the settlement with yer charms?”

“Is bein’ well liked a crime now?” I dodged his swipe this time.

“Watch it, boy!” He roared. The pair of Yellowjacket soldiers at the gate turned to look at us, their gazes critical. “Yeh’re a boulder’s throw away from bein’ thrown from th’ city! Regardless o’ who yeh’re connected to.”

“He’d never–”

“He would, an’ ye know it. It’d be as much fer yer own good as t’would be for his. For the whole o’ Aleport, for tha’ matter.” His voice grew quiet and his eyes narrowed, “...ye know why.”

Anger shivered up my spine, its bitter bile churning grudgingly in my belly. “My actions are warranted,” I rumbled quietly.

“How blind, yeh are,” he said, his lip curling admonishingly. “Warranted or no, yeh'll put every man, woman, an’ child o’ Aleport at risk if yeh continue on in such a manner,” he paused, meaning for his words to sink to my depths, hoping they’d find bottom to anchor to. “...An’ now, to top it all off, yeh mean ter be chummy with a duskwight.”

With a huff of a laugh, my head rolled forward to hang before my throat. “Chummy?” I peered at him from beneath my eyelashes, my brows waving together in bitter amusement. “An’ how do ye imagine a duskwight plays into my alleged schemin’? Eh? Think we’ll grab a pair o’ spears an’ take Whore’s Alley by storm? Or–” I dared to raise my voice to a shout, “–make miqo’bobs o’ the ‘Jackets?” I lifted my head to shoot a dashing smile, a salute, and a wink to the attentive Yellowjackets beyond. They frowned.

Swerdhwynza closed his eyes for a moment to blow a thin sigh through his nose. “Go on,” he said evenly, glaring up at me. “Make light o’ it. But yeh’re on choppy waters as is, boy – yer standin’ amongst the folk o’ this settlement is thin an’ growin’ thinner with each day. Align yerself with a duskwight now an’ the people’ll turn on yeh once an’ for all. Yes,” he growled as I opened my mouth to quip back, “even the womenfolk yeh’ve enchanted with yer wits.”

I wrinkled my nose and lifted an index finger, “I’d’ve gone with staff, personally. Builds a better metaphor.” I dodged a timely swat upside the back of my head.

“Is there no gettin’ through teh yeh!? Listen to me! For yer own good, don’t go mixin’ with people you ought not mix with! You, o’ all people, must watch yerself!”

“Oh, must I?” I nearly laughed with frustration. “Gods! If my standin’ is so poor, maybe I ought ter jus’ team up with her an’ rob the lot o’ you blind! A’least I’d be booted from the settlement with somethin’ ter show for it!”

A frustrated growl ripped from Swerdhwynza’s teeth. “If she knew what you were even she’d have nothing ter do with yeh!”

“What I am?” My brow shot toward my hairline, and before I could stop myself, laughter roared from my lips.

Color rose quickly from Swerdhwynza’s neck and flooded his face. “Well– I– You know what I mean.”

The sight of Swerdy’s flustered colors did wonders in bleeding away my anger. In fact, a more genuine wave of laughter caught me in its current, and with a hearty clap of my hand on his shoulder, it carried me away. His frustrated sputterings faded as I passed through the Aleport gate and waded through the bustling crowd.

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast @diskwrite-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 7

POV: Sylbfohc Ostulmsyn YEAR: 1553 AGE: 24

Her figure cut sharp lines against the horizon. Tall, proud, rigid; a dark banner unyielding in its claim, its tresses flying at bold, unfamiliar angles. She was a creature from another land, a blackened tree caught amidst a roll of boulders. Each of whom, by the look of it, had every intention of choking out her roots.

I squinted through the brightness of midday, casting a hand over my brow to shield the sun. Four bulky silhouettes stood just up the hill, each facing the other in an ill begotten attempt at formality. With their backs to the distant Aleport walls stood the two boulders: Swerdhwynza, his stout figure stiff and gruff as ever, and – hells, was that Skoenthota? A thin wash of dread rattled my nerves as I took in the sight of her, her sliver cloak billowing. The last time I’d seen her, well. To say we’d had a tumble in the sheets would be an understatement… I’d called on her afterwards, right? Taken her out for a meal? Or for a walk along the shore, at least? Gods… Sylb, you briny bastard.

With a deep breath, I rolled my shoulders back a mite farther, stood an ilm taller, and relaxed my pace from a timely march to a stately, casual swagger. There was a third boulder, I noticed as I drew nearer – another roegadyn. Young, and covered from head to toe in the shiniest, most ridiculous display of armor I’d ever seen. If he’d looked the type to draw the attack to himself for the benefit of the team that’d be one thing, but I could see the sheen of anxious sweat on his face from yalms away, his eyes darting from the two before him to the curious, formidable looking elezen woman beside him. No, best to dress that kid in earth tones.

“Yeh wanna know wha’ trouble is? Eh?” Swerdhwynza's harsh voice became clearer as I neared the top of the hill. “'Round these parts the only duskwights we see are the 'freelancin'' sort – spear wieldin' bastards who'll attack a child as soon as they would an armed mercenary for the coin in their purse. Or for some other dark purpose."

So it was true then. There was a duskwight in our midst! The first one in gods know how long. And, of course, immovable, unchanging, stuck in his ways Swerdhwynza was making an absolute ass of himself. I cringed inwardly and blew a silent breath through my lips.

"Well, I'm not them,” she replied through half bared teeth, standing her ground. And, as the two faced off, I realized that she was actually taller than him. An elezen woman taller than a roegadyn man. Wow.

"Gods above, Swerdy!" I rumbled amiably and barked a disbelieving laugh, closing the distance between the lot of them and myself with a few final strides. "Don't tell me you actually believe those ale-addled tavern stories." All eyes turned on me and I repaid their attention with a roguish, chin-dimpled smile. And, for good measure, I tossed Skoenthota a knowing wink. She rolled her eyes over a suppressed smile.

“Wha’ the fuck are you doin’ here?” The blank faced ‘Swerdy’ growled, color quickly rising in his cheeks.

“Ahhh,” I rumbled, opening my arms to him. “C’mon, Swerdy. Is tha’ any way to talk to your cousin?” I hooked one arm around the rosy faced grump and jostled him with a brotherly hug. He hated it.

"Gerroff me!" Swerdy growled and attempted to shake himself free of my embrace. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the duskwight women’s expression go blank before a flicker of incredulity spread over her face. Her foot took a noiseless step backward.

"Alrigh’, alrigh’," I lifted my hands in a lighthearted gesture of surrender, my crooked smile bright against my dark skin. "Really, though, Swerdhwynza," dropping my hands to rest comfortably on my hips, I turned my curious eyes to behold the lass more fully, "have you even ever met a duskwight?"

Her eyes were like ice as they stared not quite into mine – the palest blue made even paler by the darkness of her obsidian skin. It was as if she was trying to look past me rather than at me, all her fire from a moment ago gone. Instead she looked uncertain, confused even; truly unsure about what she should think. I swear that she’d have taken another step back if she could.

“No,” Swerdy barked, “‘ave you?" His question ended on an almost accusing note, and I couldn’t help but notice the flicker of pain that crossed the lass’s expression. She tried to contain it, sucking the inside of her bottom lip in between her teeth. Her eyes flickered briefly to the ground, her cheeks puckering as she drew in a breath through her nose.

Swerdy, you ignorant ass.

"Nope!" I replied cheerily in contrast. Then, stepping forward with a curious, but warm, smile, I extended a hand to the young woman. "Hello, there. I'm Sylbfohc."

She glanced up at me, cheeks still puckered around a now uneasy frown, and eyed me. Warily, she stretched out her hand, the movement slow as if she expected this to be the punchline of some strange joke, and she wrapped it around mine. "Ojene..."

But there was no punchline. No joke. Only the warm, firm shake of my hand, a quick nod, and a wry, but welcoming, quirk of my lips. "Nice to meet yeh, Ojene."

And then her eyes actually met mine. She stared, a bit-wide eyed and completely frozen. The moment my grip lessened she pulled her hand away.

"So!" I gave my hands a singular clap then turned to look at the rest of the group: silently fuming Swerdhwynza, smirking Skoenthota, and the wet-nosed shiny kid. "What's the plan?" I grinned confidently – as if this was all normal.

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast @diskwrite-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 6

POV: Ojene Suinuet YEAR: 1553 AGE: 27

The Yellowjackets followed me all the way to the closest, most affordable looking inn I could find. They were there as I relinquished one of the dwindling coins in my purse for a room, and they were waiting for me in the morning when I emerged into the daylight. Fucking hells, really? I tried not to acknowledge them as I struck out into the streets. I had a few hours, after all, and it was time to explore.

But the townsfolk were no less unfriendly than yesterday- I did nothing but walk down the streets and take in my surroundings, yet all the while their suspicious glances bored into my back. I had tried so hard to be past caring about this shite. But something about it clenched in my chest, like a fist squeezing harder and harder around my heart.

On the eleventh bell, I relented for the day. Enough is enough. Might as well head north.

The ‘Jackets didn’t follow me past the city gates. A small blessing. And it was only a short walk past huts and farms until I came to what I could only assume was my destination. It was the only thing like it in sight- a looming hulk of a tree split down the middle. Dead blackened bark curled away from the massive scar. Lightning was my guess, and at least a couple years past. Fungus grew in the cleft left behind, its rotting interior lined with rising plates of mushrooms. Against the wood, I leaned. And I waited.

It wasn’t too long before I was joined by another. A Roegadyn boy, clad in a set of plate armor that gleamed so bright it sprinkled motes of sunlight onto the dusty dirt road. I didn’t miss the glances he shot me now and again- wide-eyed and wary as if he expected me to pull a knife on him at any second. I barely paid him more than a nod before I stared down the road so I didn’t have to contemplate his face.

The thirteenth bell came. And the thirteenth bell went.

Was this some kind of joke?

The boy’s glances edged from wary to confused, and I was right there with him. Surely this was the spot, and surely this was the time. And even though we hadn’t said a word, it was clear he was here for the same purpose as me. But he didn’t move, so nor did I.

Wind gusted through, rattling the bare branches above my head like the bones of a skeleton. The only sound to fill our silence.

Just before the fourteenth bell, they appeared. Two more Roegadyn, a man and a woman, their unfamiliar faces turned towards us. At first I thought little of it- just a couple more passersby. But as they drew closer, the light caught in the folds of the cloak that billowed from the woman’s shoulders, showing its color for all that it was. Silver.

Finally.

I straightened, pulling myself away from the crumbling bark at my back. Thumbs hooked in my belt, I watched their approach. And as they drew close enough to see their eyes, I realized just where their attention was focused. Me.

I doubt they knew it, the things a Duskwight could hear. Because when the cloakless man whispered to the woman at his side, it was all too clear his words weren’t meant for my ears.

“Well, fuck me,” he muttered. “It is a Duskwight.”

A thin smile fixed on my face- I forced my hands to relax at my side.

Dirt crunched under their boots as they sidled up towards us, muttering comments about me the entire way. After the indignity of today- of yesterday- of the past four months- of my whole damn life- hot coils of anger spread up my chest. But I shoved them down. This wasn’t the time. I had to keep my head clear.

The pair stopped, just a few fulms away. The woman stood back, a smirk on her face as the the man turned his dour expression on the plate-clad boy. A stout rock towering over a quivering tree.

The interrogation started with a single, rough growl. “Name.”

Just like that, the boy’s forehead burst with sweat.

The man’s questions were brief. Simple. A short grunt followed by the kid’s trembling answer. When asked his age, he shot back with a hearty “Nineteen!” and his shoulders hunched forward with enthusiastic gusto. But the woman laughed, a sharp mocking peal. And a droplet of moisture beaded down the bridge of his nose.

In a snap, it was over. The kid shrank back. And then, like the shifting of a glacier, the interrogator turned his hard, dark eyes to me. I had one solace in that moment, one unchanging grace- despite the straight ridge of his back, he was still a bit shorter than me.

“Name,” he said, tone unchanged.

I stiffened under his gaze. “Ojene Suinuet.”

“Age,” he snapped, barely giving my mouth time to close on the last syllable.

My eyes narrowed. “Twenty-seven,” I answered, as sharp and steady as before.

“Skills,” he barked, just as quick. And he drew himself up a little straighter, as if by virtue of will he was going to grow another couple ilms.

As I glared down into his eyes, I knew what this was. He was trying to throw me off. Unbalance me. Shatter my guard and force me to strew my true self before him. Because he, like all the rest, thought he knew what that was.

Right. I drew myself up a little taller. Let him feel every ilm of difference between us.

He wanted to see what I was made of. So that’s what he was going to get.

"Four years in the Gridanian Lancer’s Guild, assuming you know where that is. Extensive experience with the spear before that, and not to mention knives and bows. The ability to survive in the forest, to track even the most skittish of antelope for malms on end, and to actually follow someone without being fucking noticed. And I come recommended, from a proven mercenary herself, but I presume you already know that.” My eyes narrowed sharply. “Or is that, perhaps, not what you were trying to ask?”

But beneath the weight of my glare, he didn’t move a muscle.

In a different context, I would have been impressed.

“I was askin' about yer battle skills,” he snapped, smooth as polished stone. “Relevant experience an' th’ like."

My molars ground against each other.

"Then I've told you. Four years with the Lancers. And I’ve spent the last four months doing jobs in Limsa Lominsa."

"Why leave Limsa fer Aleport, of all places?" He wagged the question through the air like a finger in my face.

“More work,” I snapped.

"Yeh weren't asked ter leave, then?"

“No.” My hands tightened at my sides. “I wasn’t.”

He paused. Stared at me in silence, and despite the impassive stoniness of his expression, I could see his thoughts turn over in his eyes. Searching for a new approach. "What's a Gridanian Duskwight doin' so far west? Mm?"

What, indeed. The question everyone wanted to know the answer to. And for a moment, when I asked myself, I didn’t know the answer.

“They don’t like my kind in Gridania,” I said dryly.

"So, yeh thought your kind'd be liked here?"

A cold anger snapped through my veins. My lips rolled back, flashing him a grin that stretched my cheeks taut. “No,” I spat. “But I thought maybe I'd have a chance to get away from blowhards who thought even a whiff of a Duskwight spelled trouble."

But for all my passion, all my rage, he didn’t fucking flinch.

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @diskwrite-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 5

POV: Ojene Suinuet YEAR: 1553 AGE: 27

Coiled around a bucket for the fourth time this voyage, it occurred to me maybe this whole notion was foolhardy. I never thought I’d miss the Shroud- not after everything that happened. But somehow, trapped in the hold with the other passengers, all I could think about was verdant trees and fragrant flowers.

Still, I tried. And when we finally, blessedly, reached our destination, I strapped together all the shredded remnants of my dignity and joined the rest of them on the gangplank down to the docks.

As my feet touched solid unmoving wood, I closed my eyes and took a few deep, steadying breaths.

“Oi, fuckin’ move already!”

Shite. I skittered out of the way, letting the people behind me pass. But I didn’t walk with them just yet. Instead I lingered, staring out- taking in the new sight that spread before me.

Aleport- the jewel of Western La Noscea.

It was still small. In comparison, at least. But for a place Tetesi described as one of the frontiers of Vylbrand, the town thrived. People bustled to and fro in the streets- Roegadyn, Hyur, and Lalafell alike, with the rare Miqo’te or two. But where were those like me? Even a Wildwood would be a welcome discovery at this point… but at least right here, at this particular point in time, there were none to be seen.

Well. If the people of Limsa Lominsa could get used to me, I suppose the townsfolk here could, too. Squaring my shoulders, I started forward.

And immediately, I noticed the stares.

“The hells-” spluttered a woman to my left.

“Get out o’ th’ way,” hissed a man to my right- down to the child he jerked closer to his side. Big young Hyur eyes stared up at me as I swept past, and I tried my best not to feel their pressure at my back.

I kept my pace even, my stride unbroken. They wouldn’t see me look over, or falter, or flinch. But a note of disquiet crimped in my stomach, shivering beneath my skin. Good Gods. The looks I’d drawn in Limsa- they weren’t always trusting but mostly they were indifferent, save from pure curiosity. But here… this was different.

This was like Gridania all over again.

No, no, no. I wasn’t going to panic. I wasn’t there. They weren’t them. The scent of seaspray and salt filled my lungs with each breath I took, and my boots crunched on the limestone beneath my feet. This was different. It wasn’t the forest. I was safe.

...Maybe.

Where Yellowjackets peppered Limsa Lominsa, here I barely spotted one. And in that moment when we locked eyes- hells, the look the ‘Jacket gave me was no different from the citizens eyeing my back. What in the hells did Tetesi drop me into?

But she’d given her recommendations. Told me what to do. So I didn’t acknowledge the stares as I followed her directions and marched myself all the way down to a squat building with a silvery sigil emblazoned across its door.

After a breath to collect myself, I stepped in.

A Roegadyn behind the desk facing the door looked up. He pushed back his spectacles, and his dark eyes widened with recognition. “Yer the Duskwight.”

“Yes,” I said, and I closed some of the distance between us. I kept my eyes attentively locked on his, but through my peripherals I took a sweep of my surroundings- small, with an inordinate number of hunting trophies lining the dark paneled walls. “I’m told a Lalafell by the name of Tetesi Tei wrote ahead about me.”

“Tha’ she did.” His broad hands ruffled through the stack of papers sitting at his side. “Plus the letter yeh penned yerself- Ojene, right?”

I nodded- trying not to wince at his lazy attempt at my name. With a hum, he leaned back, the chair creaking faintly beneath his shifting weight.

“Well, Maetiswys said she’d be willin’ ter consider yeh.” Was that a skeptical curl at his lips, or was I just being paranoid? “Be at th’ broken tree north o’ the city at the thirteenth bell on the morrow. Quarter malm along th’ main road, yeh can’ miss it. Go there, an’ yeh’ll get some debriefing on what li’le trial mission she plans ter send yeh on. ”

All at once, my breath caught in my chest. And my eyelids fluttered rapidly, trying to strike away the sudden fuzziness at the edge of my vision. “You mean…” I swallowed, then readjusted myself. Don’t look so damn surprised. “You’re considering me.”

The man huffed a breath and flipped a hand outward. “We Silvercloaks are largely free ter do as we please, but wha’ever Maetiswys says, goes. Not sayin’ t’would be my decision, but mayhaps yeh’ll turn out all right after all.” He readjusted his papers, then tipped his head back. “Tomorrow, thirteenth bell.” And the shortness of his words brooked no further conversation.

So I bowed my head and made my exit. And as I remerged into the brilliant La Noscean sun, I came face to face with not one, but two Yellowjackets standing on the other side of the street. Their heads turned quickly away, as if they were pretending not to notice me at all.

At the mouth of the door, I lingered. Eyeing them. But after a moment, I struck back out into the town. I wasn’t going to worry about it, I told myself. The Silvercloaks were considering me. An honest to gods mercenary group was giving me a chance. And if what Tetesi said was true, not only was their work the sort I wouldn’t have to turn away from, but they also wouldn’t force me to spend inordinate amounts of time on a godsdamned boat.

It would be an answer. It would be. It…

Holy fucking shite, the ‘Jackets were following me.

And it was the most obvious tail I’d ever seen.

What the everloving fuck.

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @diskwrite-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 4

POV: Ojene Suinuet YEAR: 1552 AGE: 27

It was over those drinks- the first and then the second she demanded I buy for her- that Tetesi took it upon herself to give me her advice. And caught there against the wall, frowning into my mug, I had little choice but to listen.

She jabbed one finger my way, her pale cheeks reddened from the ale. “Yer too damned green, an’ that’s yer problem.”

“Green?” I couldn’t stop my incredulous laugh. “Why in the seven hells do you think I’m green?”

“Yer fuckin’ joking, right? Yeh think that incident with the Falcons woulda happened wi’ someone who weren’t?”

Hells- the heat of a flush crept into my cheeks. But nonetheless, I stood my ground- I planted one hand against my knee, looming over the Lalafell at my side.

“So, you said you came over here to keep me company, but what you really wanted to do was criticize.”

“Pssht, not my fault if yeh take every last word all critical-like. Face it, lass, it’s as clear as day yeh don’ belong. What yeh should really do is join up with some crew as whatever lowly spot they’ll give yeh an’ earn yer sea legs good an’ proper. Then yeh won’ have any more mishaps like that in th’ middle o’ a skirmish. Know what I mean?”

She had a point. I couldn’t deny it. What better way to truly learn La Noscean life than to jump into its heart? But as I pushed my now-empty bowl of stew away from me, that sinking feeling in my bones only deepened.

“I don’t want to live on a boat,” I said.

“Then what are yeh doin’ trying ter find merc work in Limsa Lominsa?” A disbelieving furrow pressed in her forehead.

“I-” One hand flopped around haplessly. “I just…” It scrubbed through my hair. “I thought it’d be different.”

An effusive sigh glided past Tetesi’s lips. “Ojene, Ojene, Ojene.” At least she made an effort to pronounce it correctly, despite the slur that muddied her words. “Yeh can’t replace a crank with a lever an’ expect it to work.”

“I…” I let the hand drop. “I know. But what else am I to do?”

“Well.” That smirk of hers returned. “Yeh could keep jumpin’ in with the fishes.”

“Har dee har.” Squaring my broad shoulders to face her more fully, I frowned. “Give me some real advice.”

Her green eyes squinted as she considered me, the delicate point of her chin crimping as she screwed up her lips. “Well. If yeh insist that the fightin’ spirit is really where yeh want ter apply yerself… why not go inland?”

“Inland,” I repeated. “You mean, where not even the Barracudas watch over things?”

“Yeah, th’ same. May be it’s a bit more lawless than even good ol’ Limsa, but if yer serious about pursuin’ this path without gettin’ properly accustomed to bein’ on a boat, I don’t see much other option for yeh. Course…” her eyes gleamed. “There’s other ways ter make an honest living. Workin’ a place like this.” She swept a hand towards Flazrael where she stood at the other side of the bar, chatting to patrons as she refilled their glasses. “Tradecraft. Merchantry- if yeh call that honest! Hells, yeh could even take up fishing.”

“Fishing.” I huffed a dry laugh. “Doesn’t that involve boats?”

Tetesi’s gesticulations paused… and she scoffed. “Hah! Well, s’pose that’s case in point. Yer too picky for this shite. Unless yeh want ter get yer hands dirty, yer gonna have ter make a choice.”

And from the way her brows waved when she said ‘dirty,’ I knew- she didn’t mean the sort of back-breaking, fish-dousing work I’d thrust myself into today. No. It was consorting with pirates. Falling in with thieves. Unabashed banditry. All those paths I’d long since refused to walk.

My gaze fell from hers, finding the bartop.

“Right. Well… we’ll see.”

But it was another three months until I made a choice. Maybe it was the dawn of the new year that did it. Maybe it was the fact I always seemed a few gil away from destitution. Or maybe I simply got tired of not being able to look into my reflection in the washing bowl at the end of the day with any real sense of satisfaction on where my life had gone since I left the Shroud.

Tetesi was right. If I couldn’t be content letting my training go to waste, if the idea of being on a boat for more than a few hours made my stomach quite literally turn, and if I refused to turn to darker paths… something had to give.

I found myself at her door one evening. She swung it open, and a curious smile lit up her face. “Ojene. What brings yeh here?”

I took a breath. “Tell me about those… inland options.”

With a nod, she stepped back to let me in.

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @diskwrite-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 3

POV: Ojene Suinuet YEAR: 1552 AGE: 27

With a sickening crack, the bottom of the barrel in my arms gave way, disgorging its contents all over my trousers. But my moment of shock was short-lived, even as briny water soaked all the way down to my toes- because the foreman saw and he was none too pleased.

“Dark ears!” he bellowed, his ruddy Hyuran cheeks swelling up with fury. “Yeh better pick up every last one o’ those arsefins or that’s comin’ out o’ yer pay!”

With a hasty breath, I dropped to my knees. Leaning the barrel on its side I grabbed for the container’s former bounty- the silver-scaled fish sprawled all over the middle of the pier. The other dockworkers stepped around me as I scrambled to load them back up, praying silently to the Twelve that my knee shoved against the barrel’s top was enough to hold it in place.

This was not the way I had envisioned my life.

By the time I finally stumbled back to the inn, my body burning with a typical ache, it was already dark. No one cared anymore as I slipped in- after a month of this, the novelty of my presence had long since faded. I was simply part of the crowd, drawing glances only from the faces I hadn’t seen before. I paid them no mind. Instead, I swept to the job postings tacked by the doors.

No… no… seen it… yesterday’s work… shite. That was it? My fingertips glided against the slips of parchment, as if somehow touch would change the sinking reality that set deeper in my bones every day.

I crossed the room and claimed what was becoming my usual seat at the end of the bar, pressed up against the wall. And as Flazrael rounded my way, an amicable smile rested on her face.

“Oi, Ojene,” she said- pronouncing my name with the hard ‘j’ I so hated… but it wasn’t worth fighting over. “The usual?”

“Yeah,” the word puffed from my chest, as if something deflated. “The usual.”

I slumped an elbow on the bar and took a surreptitious sniff of my shoulder. Holy hells, I stank.

“Lookin’ glumer than usual, I see,” came a voice at my knee.

I glanced down just in time to see a familiar brown-haired Lalafell hop up onto the stool beside me, thin eyebrows waving over her discerning smirk. Leave it to Tetesi Tei.

“I’m not glum,” I muttered.

“Yeah, an’ shite don’t stink. The Red Falcon thing s’not still botherin’ you, is it?”

A heavy sigh pressed from my lungs… and I let one hand flop outward. “Maybe.”

“Pshaw, don’t waste yer breath on those fuckers.” Tetesi folded her hands behind her head. “I don’t.”

“You work with them.”

“Yeah, but so what? They’re jus’ a briny bunch of arseholes, same as you. Well, yeh could prolly do with bein’ a little more briny… but maybe not as literally as righ’ now.”

Even as she cackled, I scowled. And as Flazrael slid a bowl of today’s stew and an ale my way, a knowing smirk rested on the Roegadyn’s face. I collected my mug and buried my face in its mouth. “You both can shut up.”

Flazrael only laughed as she danced away. And even as I took a drink, out of the corner of my eye I could see Tetesi’s shite-eating grin.

Metal hit wood with a resounding clunk as I set it back down. “Did you come over here to make fun of me?”

Tetesi spread her hands in the air and tutted under her breath. “No, no, no… thought yeh might want some company after all that. S’not really fair what they did ter yeh. Least I could do was be a friendly face.”

A curious feeling coiled in my gut, and my knuckles jutted outward as my grip tightened around the mug’s handle. Somehow, this all seemed a bit too familiar.

“Thanks for that,” I spat.

Tetesi’s smile slipped away, replaced by a wrinkle between her brows. “Well, if yeh don’t want me here, I’ll jus’ go. No sense in comin’ where I’m not welcome.”

She couldn’t know, the way that felt. The sudden knife her words plunged into my gut. How could she, what she’d said was so… typical. A simple turn of phrase. My eyes squeezed shut- but as the sounds of her readying to push herself from the stool rustled my way, I pried my lids open and flung out my hand.

“Tetesi, wait.” I unglued my jaw and forced an even breath into my lungs. And I flashed her the best smile I could muster, as strained as it was. “I’m sorry. Stay with me?”

She stopped. Green eyes narrowing as she considered me from their corners. But after a pause, she slid back in place. “All righ’.” She jabbed a thumb my way. “But yer buyin’ my next drink.”

I spread my smile wider even as the knowledge of my all too light coinpurse shot a manic flutter through my heart. “All right.”

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @diskwrite-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 2

POV: Ojene Suinuet YEAR: 1552 AGE: 27

I started, whirling about to see a broad Roegadyn looming over me. He flashed me a crooked smile from behind his clipped beard. Even from here, I could smell his breath, heavy with the bright yet sour flare of alcohol.

“So, where’d yeh get that coin, aye?” He leaned forward, thrusting every drop of sweat on his forehead into uncomfortable detail. “Didja steal it?”

Before I knew it, I’d clasped one hand around the handle of one of the daggers on my belt. It wouldn’t do to shrink away from him. No matter how close he was, no matter how high he loomed. I had to look into his face, and I couldn’t show fear. So I glared. Hard. And I straightened up as tall as I could manage without standing, pushing back on the intruding weight of his presence with all the fierce rigidity of my own.

I let a cold smile twitch on my lips. “So what if I did?”

He leaned back, and the drunken haze of his eyes gained a touch of clarity as they flickered over my face.

I didn’t budge.

With a sharp guffaw, he clapped a hand hard against my shoulder. I very nearly flinched.

“‘Eyyyyy, Flazrael! Get this one an ale on me, will ya?”

The innkeep barked a laugh as she thumped a full mug down in front a pair of waiting hands. “Yeh can’t put others on yer tab when yeh haven’t even paid yer own, asshole.”

“Ahhhh-” The reddish flush in his cheeks bloomed deeper. He rubbed one massive hand against the back of his neck. “Well, I’m good fer it, aren’t I?”

With an exaggerated sigh I was sure was all part of the game, Syhrwyb waved a hand through the air. “Fine, fine, but if yer damned pockets are empty in the morning, I’m comin’ after yeh.”

He swung a finger through the air. “And I’ll hold yeh to it!”

My forehead furrowed, and I turned my head just enough to watch as she plucked up an empty mug and headed for the barrels. And sure enough, she filled it to the brim with the light golden liquid. As she came over, a smirk flashed across her face. She shoved the drink toward me, handle first.

“Don’t look so shocked, lass,” she said. “My ale’s the best in town.”

“Uh-” My eyes dragged between the mug and the inebriated Roegadyn behind me.

Another guffaw broke free from his chest. Flazrael snickered.

“Yeh really aren’t from ‘round here, are yeh?” She leaned forward and folded her arms against the bar. “The man jus’ bought yeh a drink. So I suggest… yeh drink it.”

I couldn’t help the sharp breath that drew through my nose. Why did they care? But when I looked into her eyes, there was no unkindness there. No… plotting or malice. Just sharp amusement, paired with the wry quirk of her lips.

So… I gave. And slowly, I reached for the mug.

With a final guffaw, the man behind me clapped his hand against my shoulder one last time. I nearly lost my grip- the ale sloshed dangerously close to the rim.

“There yeh go, lass.” And he retreated as abruptly as he’d come, galumphing back to the tables with all the grace of a Morbol on stilts.

Flazrael opened her mouth as if she was about to say something. But on the other side of the bar, one of the Hyur waved his hand through the air with a frantic urgency. With a laugh, she yanked herself back up and swept toward him. As she departed, she turned her head back toward me and flashed me one of those half-grins.

“Welcome ter Limsa,” she said.

And it was true.

The ale was damn good.

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @diskwrite-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

As Eorzea Turns ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water

SCENE 1

POV: Ojene Suinuet YEAR: 1552 AGE: 27

“What th’ fuck is that doin’ here?”

I heard them, but I didn’t turn around. They didn’t need to know I’d been aware of them since the moment I’d stepped in. Felt their eyes the instant I’d walked past. Because they, like most everyone else I encountered since I stepped off the boat that morning, wanted to know what in the hells a Duskwight was doing in Limsa Lominsa.

It was 1552, and I was nothing but a stranger.

Loud, raucous laughter filled the air as I crossed the floor. The broad wooden panels creaked beneath my feet. Beyond the tables half-filled with patrons, after the serving girl whose eyes grew just a bit too wide, and past the group of Hyur crowded on the barstools, I paced. Because at the end of it all stood the one woman behind the bar.

With the friendliest face I could muster, I faced her. She stared back at me, one eyebrow lifted far higher than the other as she scrubbed a stained rag against the interior of a gleaming iron mug.

“I’d like a room, please,” I said, and I could feel the tension in my cheeks as my smile spread a little too wide.

Somewhere behind me, a deep voice tittered.

The innkeep tilted her head back as she regarded me over the breadth of her wide Roegadyn nose. “Yeh got th’ coin ter pay fer that room, aye?” She twisted the mug in one large, blueish hand and forced the cloth deeper. It squealed against the innermost crevices, a bright hollow sound that set my teeth on edge.

“You got the room? Aye?”

One side of her mouth curled upward in a measured grin, exposing yellowed teeth. She yanked the rag free and seized the mug’s top. And with one quick motion, she slammed the cup against the bartop. Metal hit wood with a loud, echoing crack. Behind me, laughter softened.

I lifted my chin and stared the innkeep in the eye.

She leaned against the bar, and the clean white linen of her sleeves bunched as she shoved her elbow into the wood. “Mayhaps I do. Mayhaps I don’t.”

A grating sigh forced its way from my throat. Fine. If we were going to play this game, I was going to play it right. I shoved my hand into one of the small pouches on my belt and wrested free a singular, large coin. With a flick of my wrist, yellow lamplight flashed on polished silver. For a fraction of a second, the innkeeper’s other eyebrow rose. Her lips rounded.

Good.

I smacked the gil piece down between us, cradled in the nest of my palm. And slowly, I slid my hand back, ignoring the faint stinging prickling beneath my skin where hand struck wood.

The Roegadyn brushed her arm over the bar and curled her nails beneath the coin. It rasped against the countertop as she plucked it up. She straightened up and leaned back as she lifted it to the light. Her dark bushy eyebrows hung low as she turned it over in her fingers. The sideways cant of her lips was stern and discerning as her sea green eyes flicked over every facet. But it didn’t matter. It was an act. In that brief second, she’d let it all slide. The glint of avarice had caught in her eye. She knew the worth of that thing as much as I did. Not a generous amount, but more than enough for a room.

I knew, even before she lowered the coin and looked back at me, that I had her.

She shoved the silver into a pocket on her apron front. That half-smile flashed across her face again, exposing a missing molar or two.

“Well,” she said, “glad ter have yeh fer the night.”

And as I treated her with a smile- one that didn’t hurt my cheeks this time- awareness of the whispers behind me roared into my ears, like a flood of water crashing through my head.

My heart sank. Suddenly, flashing that coin didn’t seem like such a good idea.

On the other side of the bar, one of the Hyur flagged a hand in the air. “Oi, how ‘bout some more ale over here?”

Laughter broke through the tavern. The innkeep threw back her head with a singular “hah,” and she swept toward him, apron billowing around her legs. And as I stepped back, turning on a heel to glance over the rest of the patrons, sound rushed back into the wide wooden space. The ruckus of drunken voices, roaring and slurring about each other with all the enthusiasm of a wolf with a bone.

My shoulders relaxed.

There was one open spot at the end of the bar, and I took it. Practically flush against the white plaster wall and in direct view of the archway leading into the kitchen. I yanked the stool as far away from the Hyur beside me as I could manage. He didn’t seem to notice as I sat down- with his back turned to me, he’d launched into some ridiculous tale about a chocobo and a behemoth to the woman at his right. I watched him, out of the corner of my eye, just like I watched the rest of them. No one seemed to care anymore that I was there, as if I’d swept in like some passing curiosity that no longer mattered.

That suited me just fine.

I leaned into the wall. It was cool against my back.

The innkeep made the rounds, snatching up empty tankards as she went. With a sharp jest to a swaying guest, she trotted toward the line of massive barrels that lined the back wall. Ten mugs sprawled between her fingers, clasped tightly by the handles. A feat of skill maybe only Roegadyn hands could achieve. She didn’t even set the mugs down as she set about refilling them. How she managed it, I had no idea. I found myself leaning forward in my stool, watching her.

I realized only a moment too late that I’d stopped watching the rest of the room.

A heavy hand clapped against my shoulder.

As Eorzea Turns is an episodic writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

Visit our tumblr to learn more and to read from the beginning! Read chronologically ~ ACT 1: Fish Out of Water Learn more ~ About AET

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

This week’s scene featuring: @diskwrite-ffxiv

[as-eorzea-turns]

About the “As Eorzea Turns” project

The As Eorzea Turns tumblr is an episodic ongoing writing project based in the Final Fantasy XIV universe, set in the past, and written by a group of roleplayers on the Balmung server.

All stories are divided into overarching Acts then divided further into Scenes – which are no longer than 1000 words each (roughly). Each scene is written from the 1st person perspective of a role play character, and in past tense.

We release two pre-written scenes a week every Sunday & Wednesday at 7pm PST.

All scenes are based on backstory role play sessions that we, the authors (and RP buddies) have RPed out together. This project is essentially a super fun way for us to interconnect our characters and flesh out their back stories by actually RPing them while giving us an excuse to write!

In order to keep the specific story arc on our As Eorzea Turns tumblr blog organized and easy enough to follow, writing for the blog is on an invitation only basis. But!~

Absolutely everyone is invited to use our tumblr-wide project tags ( #as eorzea turns & #ffxiv writing ) to join in on the fun and write stories about your character’s backstory, present, or even their future!

There are no rules! Write in whichever perspective, tense, and time period that you wish! Our goal is to simply begin to unite the writers of FFxiv with some common tumblr tags.

So, stay tuned for our Sunday & Wednesday night scenes, and write some of your own to share with the rest of us!