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ivoryminitower · 4 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 120 - Tsu'na ("quiet")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

It has been quiet these last few days. Different kinds of quiet.

There have been no more robberies, or groups of bandits (Husband calls that last group a "biker gang"). Sam says robberies are rare, and bandit groups unheard-of. That this is a quiet county that hardly ever has need of heroes.

It almost did not need heroes that night. We have heard that it was a group passing through, that they had apparently stopped at the first vacant-seeming farm they saw to rest. Neighbors had noticed distant lights and noises at the empty farm and had called the sheriff's office. Had they not noticed, the bandits might have been gone the next day. Had the deputy, Charlie, come at another time, he might have seen how many bandits there were and not gotten trapped between them and the house.

But that is not what happened. The neighbors noticed, and Charlie arrived when the bandits were out somewhere, and then got surprised when the bandits returned. Then Charlie was in danger, and then everyone came, and then everyone was in danger. And we killed twenty people.

Sheriff Parsons had said he would not "make phone calls" because we had saved their lives. He did not say he would not tell anyone else what happened. Even if he did not, there were also Charlie and Frank and Mickey. They might have told friends or family or other deputies, who may have talked to others.

Perhaps that is why the people in town have been quiet as well. Before now, people I would sometimes pass on the street or in the market or at the library often did not try to talk to me; they might glance at me, but would otherwise walk away, especially if they had children with them. Now they look at me, perhaps to see what I will do. Some of them nod and say, "Ma'am."

I cannot read their eyes. I am not sure what they feel. Perhaps they are not sure either…whether to respect me as one who saved people's lives or fear me as one who ended others'.

I remember similar looks in Eorzea.

The customers at the Pit are quieter too, but they do not seem to be afraid. They are more formal than they were, though. Some will make a point of paying their respects as they come in, with a nod and often a smile and a "Miz Tsu'na." I wonder if my fans are turning into worshipers. I wonder if there is a way to turn them back, or if I have somehow enthralled them.

The diner is more crowded in the evening as more children come to spend time. Some have asked to see my bow, or Husband's armor; we tell them we cannot bring out our weapons unless we need to use them. That seems to satisfy them, though I can hear them talking about us when we are not looking.

May has not spoken to me for days. She still accepts my money at the market, but will not or cannot speak to me, so I need to read the amount on the register. She looks at me with wide eyes. I do not think I am a cat for her now. Perhaps I am a tiger.

Frank has continued coming to the diner in the evening. He did not look at us much before; now, when he does, his eyes look somewhat haunted. Husband has insisted he sit closer to the register to scare away robbers. I have insisted he try our pies. The first night he came in, rather than the coffee he usually gets, I brought him an apple pie and a cup of tea. He did not eat it right away, but he did before the night was through. Husband says restaurants giving food to police is "a thing."

The Hartmans had sometimes seemed like parents before; now they seem like parents of grown-up children. Mr. Hartman seems oddly satisfied with us, perhaps because he understands us a little better now. Mrs. Hartman says a little less, but is more inclined to hug me sometimes.

The most unexpectedly quiet person is Husband.

It is not that we do not speak. It is not that we are not comfortable together. But he has been somewhat less

"word for someone with a lot of energy": "energetic, lively, animated"

animated since facing the bandit gang. When he is not in bed with me or eating with me or working with me, he is paying attention to our airplane.

He has started attaching the wings and trying to fly it. It still needs weight in the back, but rather than depending on me for this he uses a box fastened to where the second seat would go, in which he has placed steel ingots.

He spent part of a day simply driving the airplane around on the ground, making it turn. Then he made it go faster and got it to raise a few ilms off the ground. It was jerky and made the airplane bounce, until he had practiced a lot with it.

Over the course of days he had the airplane in the air longer and higher. He was careful to not go up or down too quickly. When he had flown a few fulms up for a while, he started practicing turning in the air. I could tell by how little he changed what he was doing that he was trying very hard to not crash.

The day before yesterday he got the airplane high enough to fly over the trees at the edge of the field. I had been watching him practice all this time, sometimes trying to read but often looking to see that he was all right. That day was the first time he had flown out of my sight, and only when he flew back and landed did I realize how tense I was.

Yesterday morning he removed the box and replaced the rear seat. Then he looked at me.

It seemed he had practiced enough that he thought he would not hurt either of us with the airplane. I had suspected this was coming. I got in the rear seat and fastened the belts around myself.

I had already decided I would ride in the airplane. Yet I was still tense. I could feel my heart beating. I was breathing a little harder. These things happened more strongly as he started the engine and made the airplane move.

It left the ground. I watched the field fall away under us. Then I saw the tops of trees below us. We were surrounded by nothing but crisp, cold air.

It was a mount I was not flying, that I did not control. I was moving through the air because a machine was carrying me.

My heart and breathing took a while to calm down after the airplane had landed. Husband undid the belts on his own seat and turned to look at me. He took my hand and watched my face. After a moment I managed to laugh.

We can fly. We can travel on our own, without cars or buses.

Perhaps it is time to find the next area.

#ffxiv #ffxiv echoes of home #ffxiv writers #ffxiv fanfiction #final fantasy xiv fanfic #ffxiv writing #writeblr

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ivoryminitower · 4 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 119 - Steve ("home")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

Tsu'na let me sleep in way later than she should have, considering we only had bicycles to get to the sheriff's office. But we'd talked with the Hartmans last night about the diner incident and said we needed to go in and make a statement, so Mr. Hartman offered to drive us there.

As Tsu'na and I settled into the back seat of his truck, I said, "You can just drop us off. We can find a way home, so you can get to the diner."

"Diner's closed."

"What, they haven't finished with the crime scene?"

He glanced back at me as he started the truck. "It's Thanksgiving."

"...I really need to buy a damn calendar."

Tsu'na leaned in to me as the truck pulled out. "What is Thanksgiving?"

"Sort of a harvest festival. Though it also honors a time when colonists that came to this country had a poor harvest and a hard winter and got help from the natives."

"Oh…so the colonists and the natives had good relations?"

"...Ask me tonight about what Myra means by 'the rez'."

The Page County Sheriff's Department was a bit on the outskirts of the county seat, so we didn't get to see marvellous downtown Carole, OK. Hartman pulled in at a one-story building across from a strip mall. I could see three patrol cars, so maybe the bulk of the county's finest were in attendance.

We climbed out of the truck and entered. Inside was a woman with a headset at a reception desk. Gathered in an area of desks were three guys in uniform, plus a couple of civilians (or, I suppose, off-duty or plainclothes), all chatting away.

The chatting stopped when we came in. All eyes were on Tsu'na and me. Even the receptionist's.

Hartman took in the scene, then stepped forward. "Joel Hartman. Here about the robbery at my diner."

The receptionist blinked and dragged her attention to him. "Uh. Yes, sir. Have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly."

Someone was with us immediately. Frank turned up and said, "This way."

He led us through the desks toward a room at the back. Just before the door he turned. "Ma'am, please remove your hat and coat."

We studied him. I said, "My wife would be more comfortable with them on."

He met my eyes. "Standard procedure."

"In case of what?"

Maybe Frank felt safe in his cop house. Maybe he was trying to muster a shred of self-esteem with a minor power trip. Maybe he didn't truly appreciate how easily I could turn him into a carpet stain.

My magnificent miqo'te apparently decided to be more magnanimous than me, or at least more level-headed. She removed her hat and coat. She presented them to Frank. "Take very good care of these."

I didn't look, but I'm sure all the people in the room who had been staring at the two of us were now staring at my wife's ears and tail. Frank gestured us through the door.

Sheriff Parsons was sitting at his desk. "Mr. and Mrs. Hyurcat." His face worked through a couple expressions before he added, "Thanks for coming in."

"Thanks for the invitation," I managed. "Do you know how long we might be? Mr. Hartman, the owner of the diner, is our ride."

"He's here? Frank, sit down with him and go over the details of the robbery."

"...Sir?"

"And close the door on your way out."

There was a pause, then we heard the door close behind us. We sat down in chairs in front of the desk. The sheriff was having difficulty not looking more at Tsu'na than me.

"You know," he began, "Frank's been talking about you two a lot around here. How you're weird. How you're suspicious. How you're evasive. How you need to be fully investigated and stuff. I'm having a hard time accepting he was right all along."

"Really? Because I might have called what he was doing harassment of people who hadn't committed any crime."

"That we know of."

"That's what counts, isn't it?"

"I concede that I am not aware of any criminal activity connected to the two of you." He leaned forward in his chair. "But I also saw you kill twenty heavily armed people last night using weapons Frank swears you didn't have with you in his car."

"In defense of the general public. The general public consisting in that moment of you and your deputies."

"How exactly did you do that?"

"Specialized training and equipment."

"Training. What sort of training?"

"Classified."

He pursed his lips. "I said I wanted answers."

"There's limits to the information I can give you."

"Maybe a few nights in lockup would change your mind?"

"All due respect, sir, there's government agencies that are a whole lot scarier than you." Like the ones I keep hoping we'll never draw the attention of.

"You wouldn't have a point of contact with one of them?"

"Not that I'm at liberty to give you."

His eyes flickered between Tsu'na and me. "Seems like you both have this training and equipment. You trained together here?"

"We met overseas. We got our training there."

"Where's that, exactly?"

"Also classified."

He turned to Tsu'na. "You speak English?"

"Yes."

"Got anything to add to what your husband said?"

"No."

The sheriff's eyes panned over her face. "Lot of people with ears like that where you come from?"

Tsu'na blinked and looked to me. I said, "Your deputy should have heard about the cosmetic surgery. He didn't pass that info along?"

"He might've mentioned it. Got the doctor's name?"

"I'm sorry, are you asking for confidential medical information?"

"Maybe I want to get my own set of ears."

"Wouldn't recommend it. It's pretty expensive."

"And painful," added Tsu'na.

The sheriff's eyes flickered between us. "Frank says you have no ID?"

"That's correct," I answered.

"No Hyurcat in the system. Anywhere. Google talks about computer games for some reason."

"We chose it as our married name."

"No driver's license, no birth certificate…" His gaze switched to Tsu'na. "...no passport?"

"She's my wife."

"Marriage certificate?"

"...No."

"Fingerprints on file anywhere?"

"Are we under arrest?"

He grimaced. "Social security number?"

"Not at liberty to divulge."

"Hm. So why don't I call DHS and make you their problem?"

"That would make it our problem too, so I'd really rather you didn't. But why are we your problem?"

"You carry weapons around and I don't know who you are."

"This state doesn't require weapon permits or registration. How are we different from anyone around here with a gun?"

"Most people don't pull them out and use them."

"Neither do we, usually. We just thought saving your life yesterday was a good thing to do."

I thought reminding him of that would maybe bring things into focus, but he just seemed to get more agitated. "You hole up in a little building that you try real hard to keep my deputy out of."

"It's our space. Lots of people don't like police in their space. Say you're home just watching TV and drinking beer. Would you want someone coming in just to see?"

"Is that what you're doing in there? Watching TV and drinking beer? What are you doing in my county?"

I quietly said, "We're trying to live normal lives."

"Normal people can't pull swords and guns and axes out of their asses!"

"Is that an actual crime?"

"It's impossible is what it is! You two are weird and dangerous and impossible and I don't know a thing about you!"

It wasn't working. Reason and defensiveness and confrontation weren't de-escalating the situation. I had to try something different.

"Look, Sheriff...let me try to explain. Did you serve overseas?"

"...Viet Nam."

"Okay, so maybe you can appreciate this. You go to another place that's really another world. There's similarities, but there's so many differences too. Different plants, different animals, different people. Takes a while to get over the shock, and that doesn't even allow for what you're there to do.

"You meet people. You kill people. Sometimes you have to figure out which is which. And all the while you're wondering if you're ever going to see your home again. It's insane.

"And in the middle of all that insanity, maybe you meet someone. She doesn't quite understand you, and you don't quite understand her, but what you both understand is that maybe you can find some sanity between the two of you. Her home is under attack, and your home is like a million miles away, but there you are, and you each find a kind of home with the other.

"And then it's time to come back. And by that time, maybe you've married this woman, so you bring her back with you.

"And it turns out it's hard. For her, it's a whole new world. Everything's different. Back where she came from, there weren't all the cars, there wasn't all the TV, there weren't all the big buildings...hell, there might not have been running water. And there weren't all these people who don't look like her and who keep seeing she doesn't look like them or act like them.

"As for you, the world you come back to is the same, but you're different. The people do look like you, but they still look at you like they don't understand you. You've seen things and done things they can't really get. You've killed people. You've had to try real hard not to get killed. You no longer really get what people here find important, and they don't really get what you want or need.

"So it's just the two of you. The world over there is gone, the world over here isn't quite here. So your world is what you and your wife make between the two of you. Your home is her and her home is you, whether it's in a tent or a park bench or someone else's couch. You're the only people who really understand each other, and people see that, see how you orbit around each other and cling to each other and do your own thing, which doesn't really fit what everyone else does.

"And that's fine with you. You've got each other, and you've got your love for each other, and the rest of the world can just go fuck itself.

"Does all that make sense?"

"Yeah. I get all that. That's not the point. Your wife isn't from Viet Nam. Is she?"

"...No. No, she's not."

"What about you?"

"...Virginia."

He clearly didn't expect that. "Where in Virginia?"

"Fairfax County."

"Got a town?"

"The county's all one big suburb. It's got what they call unincorporated areas."

"Fine. So what are you doing here?"

"Like I said, trying to live a normal life. Fresh start."

"Why here?"

"Podunk was too crowded."

He glared at me.

"No reason. We just kind of wound up here, thought we'd give it a go."

He seemed a little calmer. I think he was trying to accept us. Maybe that reminder did work. "Plans?"

I shrugged. "Work at the diner."

"Bounce at the bar," added Tsu'na.

"Make furniture."

"Perhaps clothing and jewelry."

He looked from me to Tsu'na and back. "That's all. That's really all you plan to do. Make stuff and work. Even with what you're capable of."

"That's the plan."

"I swear, this sounds like a movie…"

"Billy Jack or First Blood?"

That earned me a snort. He rested his elbows on the desk and rubbed his face with his hands. After a moment he said, "Suppose I buy all that. Suppose, as a way of saying thank you for last night, I don't call anyone right now. I'll have some expectations."

Tsu'na and I glanced at each other, but didn't say anything.

"First, those weapons stay…wherever the hell they are."

"Except in defense of ourselves or others."

"Noted. Second, you're on call."

"You want to deputize us?"

"Can't do that without ID, can I? But if anything else comes up that we can't handle, I expect you to help out."

I looked to Tsu'na, who smiled slightly. "With great power comes great responsibility." So she did read Spiderman. Good girl.

I turned back to the sheriff. "Sounds like civic duty. We agree."

He studied my face, then nodded. "Can't swear Frank'll leave you alone. Not gonna tell him to watch you, but he's still pretty fixated."

"I still call it harassment. But hey, long as he stays out of our workshop."

"Why? What do you do in there?"

"Does it matter? Whether we're making furniture or food or whoopee, it's our space."

He considered this, then stood and offered his hand. "Welcome to Page County, Mr. Hyurcat." I shook, and he turned to Tsu'na. "Mrs. Hyurcat." He seemed to gather himself before adding, "And…thanks."

We left the office and saw Hartman at a desk with Frank. We went over, and Tsu'na held out her hand. "May I have my hat and coat, Deputy?" Her tone might have been just the slightest bit icy.

Frank looked past her to where the sheriff was leaning in the door frame of the office, arms folded. He lifted the folded coat with the hat piled on it and handed them to her.

She put them on as we followed Hartman out of the station. "Everything okay?" he asked us.

"We think so."

"Good. Let's go home and get dinner."

"Oh, we couldn't impose…"

"You're part of the household and you're gonna be home for Thanksgiving. That clear?"

"...Yes sir."

We helped set the table. We carried out the dishes. We sat around the food. Hartman said grace as Tsu'na watched with interest. He thanked the Lord for the dinner, for the good life they had, and that their Steve and Tsu'na were delivered out of danger while keeping people safe.

The turkey was a little dry, the mashed potatoes were a little lumpy, and the cranberry sauce was a little sweet. I guess some diner skills don't really translate to making Thanksgiving dinner. I ate with gusto.

After we helped clean up, we retired to our room. We undressed, we got under our fuzzy blanket, and we quietly laid together in each other's arms.

"Are we home now, Husband?"

"I think we might be."

#ffxiv #ffxiv echoes of home #ffxiv writers #ffxiv fanfiction #final fantasy xiv fanfic #ffxiv writing #writeblr

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ivoryminitower · 4 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 118 - Tsu'na ("heroes do heroic things")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

CW: Significant violence

Husband tried to type up what happened yesterday. He did not get far. He took his laptop to bed with us, and mostly stared at the screen. When it was clear he would be like that for a while, I put my back to him and managed to sleep.

When I woke, he was asleep himself, and he had not made any progress with what he was typing. It still ended with the single word "We." Perhaps he does not like thinking about what we did. Perhaps he thinks typing about it will make it feel more real.

I will let him sleep and try to describe it myself.

He had told Deputy Frank we consented to being taken into a dangerous situation. We did not know anything about the situation, except that there were other deputies and people with guns, and they were all shooting. I knew our armor could stop Earth bullets, but we were in the rear seat of the deputy's car, and the doors were not made to open for people in the rear seat.

Frank drove his car fast while talking to someone on what I think was a phone, getting directions and information. The car made a loud, piercing noise and was somehow flashing with red and blue light. I had not been in a car before that was driven like that. I wondered if we were in danger from his driving more than from people with guns.

He drove up a very bumpy road to a place with old buildings, a house and I think a barn. There were other cars already, two that looked like Frank's car and others crowded together. Behind the deputy cars were hiding three people with deputy hats. Many more people, I assume bandits of some sort, were at the other cars, shooting at the deputies, though they also started shooting at Frank's car as he drove in.

He stopped his car, yelled at us to "keep down," drew his gun and got out to join the other deputies in shooting at the bandits. The other deputy cars were already damaged badly from being shot, and bullets were then hitting Frank's car too.

When the windows in the car broke, we knew we had to do something other than "keeping down." There were many more bandits than deputies, they seemed to have bigger guns, and they were moving to flank where the deputies were hiding. Husband and I did not need to discuss it; we both switched to Paladin, kicked open the doors of the car, and stepped out with our swords and shields drawn.

Husband was on the side of the car with the bandits. The deputies were on my side. They stared as I walked around the car. Frank hissed, "What are you doing? Get down!" I ignored him and met with Husband.

The shooting had stopped when we emerged from the car. I think everyone was surprised to see us. We stood side by side in front of the bandits with our shields raised. Husband quietly said to them, "You really should leave now."

It was what he had said to the bandit at the diner. He did not leave, and neither did the mass of bandits in front of us. Perhaps Husband needs to find something more convincing to say. They resumed shooting, this time at us. Their shots bounced off our shields and armor.

When it became clear they would not stop shooting, Husband stepped behind me. I could tell he had switched to Dragoon when he leapt over me in a Spineshatter Dive, coming down in the midst of the bandits, burying his lance into the chest of one of them.

They seemed startled by this, or perhaps shocked. While they recovered enough to turn their guns on Husband, I charged forward and swung my sword in an Eclipse that cut down three of them in front of me. Husband pulled his lance free and attacked the men around him.

When the men closer to me realized I was there, they turned and tried to grab me. I shieldbashed some while I slashed others. They backed away from me, raising their guns once more. I switched to Ninja to move more easily, drew my daggers and charged at them.

Husband had felled a number of bandits with his lance, but one of them opened a car door to use as a shield while he fired a shotgun. Husband was shaken by the blast, but his Dragoon armor was not damaged. He turned to the shooter, looking angry; he switched to Warrior, raised his battleaxe, and chopped through the car door before chopping through the shooter.

People started to flee. I threw knives. Husband cut through the ones that remained. That left two that tried to use vehicles: one got into a car, another started a motorcycle. They drove off in different directions.

Husband and I switched to Machinist. We stood back to back, drew our guns, and fired. The car I shot at rolled to a stop. I heard the motorcycle crash behind me.

We swept the area with our eyes and our guns. Nothing else was moving. We holstered our guns, switched to Earth normal, and faced each other. There was something strange in Husband's eyes. I do not know what he saw in mine.

We held each other a moment before we noticed the deputies had come out from hiding and were approaching us. One was much older than the others. Husband addressed him. "Sheriff?"

"Parsons. Who the hell are you?"

There was no point in Husband coming up with a new pair of names with Frank there. "Steve and Tsu'na Hyurcat," he answered.

"The pretzel and pie people Frank's always going on about?"

"Probably, yeah."

The sheriff's gaze shifted to the bodies behind us. "So what was all…that? You supposed to be superheroes or something?"

Husband hesitated. He took a breath. "Superpowered. Heroes do heroic things."

I thought saving four men from a horde of bandits counted as heroic, but perhaps he was right. It was only slightly more work than battling a gator. I did not speak.

As they were talking, Frank had raised his gun. His aim shifted between Husband and me. In a shaky voice he said, "You have the right to remain silent…"

The sheriff turned to him. "What are you doing, Frank?"

"I'm arresting them. You have the right to…"

"Frank. They just saved our asses. Put your gun away."

"They just killed twenty people!"

"Yeah…they did. Twenty guys with nine mils and shotguns and assault rifles. And you're one man with a six-shooter. Stand down, Deputy."

Frank glanced at the sheriff, looked back at us, then met the sheriff's eyes for a long moment. He slowly lowered the gun. As the sheriff continued to stare at him, he holstered it.

The sheriff sighed and turned back to Husband. "State's maybe ten minutes out."

"We'd really like to be gone before they get here."

"The hell am I supposed to tell them what happened?"

"No idea. Do you even know who that other gang was?"

"What other gang?"

"The guys with machetes. Was it like a rival gang? I've heard of Mexican gangs that use machetes…do you get them this far north?"

The sheriff turned grim. "You've done this before."

"Not in this country, no."

He glared at Husband. "I couldn't arrest you if I wanted to, could I?"

"Not unless we let you."

"State's still on their way."

"Just more guys with guns."

He seemed to be struggling with himself. Finally he said, "You saved our lives. Mine and my deputies'. I owe you that. But I want answers, and you're not sticking around here unless I get them. So tomorrow you're either in my office or out of my county. Or I start making phone calls. You hear me?"

"Yes sir."

"Get going."

We turned and ran behind the barn. The sheriff was mistaken about "State": more cars with piercing sounds and flashing lights started arriving almost before we were out of sight. Perhaps we could have stayed, Stealthed and listened to learn more, but Husband simply wanted to go home.

The Hartmans seemed relieved to see us. Husband explained that "something else had come up," and that we would need to go to the sheriff's office in the morning. Mr. Hartman said he could drive us, since, as the owner of the diner, they wanted to talk to him too.

I believe last night was the first time Husband has killed people in this world. He talks of the people that died while attacking me as people "we" have killed, even though he did not kill them himself. Now, rather than the people and things he killed in Eorzea, he has killed people he thinks of as "real."

I think this bothers him. I do not know if he is bothered more by the killing, or by how ferocious he was.

I should wake him soon. We need to be in the sheriff's office or out of the county today.

I will try to make him breakfast.

#ffxiv #ffxiv echoes of home #ffxiv writers #ffxiv fanfiction #final fantasy xiv fanfic #ffxiv writing #writeblr

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ivoryminitower · 4 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 117 - Steve ("something stupid")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

CW: Violence

I want to write about the ultralight and the progress we've made on it.

I want to write about how my magnificent miqo'te worked through the template recipe thing with her component recipes and how she made wind chimes.

I want to write about fighting for Myra and how Tsu'na and I can maybe train for it.

I want to write about computer games and music and movies and TV shows and the stuff Tsu'na reads and the stuff I've been suggesting she read.

I really want to write about all that.

Frank has been hanging out at the diner more. I guess since he can't officially pester us in the workshop he decided to unofficially pester us at the diner. He'd nurse a cup of coffee while reading a newspaper. He's never tried our pies. He didn't seem to be paying us any attention. He was just there.

It would have been a little easier to ignore him if he didn't sit way down at the end of the counter, where he was between us and a lot of our teenage customers, who we couldn't ignore. Him and his newspaper and his coffee and his stetson. He'd stay there for a good chunk of the evening…I didn't know if he was doing it on his off-hours, or if it was his idea of a night shift. If he was on his own time, he really should have tried a pie.

Maybe if he'd been sitting closer to the register, where he could be seen from the door and through the window, the stupid kid wouldn't have tried to rob us. I didn't see where Frank had parked…a cop car is kind of hard to miss. But maybe the kid was that nervous, or that stupid, or that strung-out or something. Whatever the reason, I suddenly found myself at the register looking at a ski mask and a gun.

"Open up the register!"

That was very, very bad. At that point it would have been better if Frank hadn't been there at all, since he was down by the teens. If Frank drew on the kid, he'd have one target, but the kid would be firing into a crowd.

I didn't know what Frank would do, so holding aggro wasn't an option. I gently rested my hands on the counter, saying, "Easy…take it easy…" then vaulted over the counter so I was between the kid and everyone. He stepped back, but he kept the gun on me, a nice, close target.

Then I switched to Paladin and raised my shield. He froze, eyes wide.

I quietly said, "You really should leave now."

I didn't know where Tsu'na was. I thought she was in the back refilling the mop bucket, but I wasn't sure. She could have maybe gone Ninja and Stealthed around behind him. But then I heard the creak of her bow from the kitchen.

The kid was fucked. He should have run. I would have let him, maybe let Frank pursue. But instead he turned at the creak and fired a shot at what he saw. He was rewarded for this with an arrow to his arm that spun him around and knocked him into a table.

The kid screamed. He grabbed his arm, tried and failed to raise the gun, and flung himself off the table to start stumbling toward the door. Tsu'na charged out from the kitchen, already drawing another arrow, and loosed into the kid's leg. He went down on his face, still screaming.

I moved forward, shield still up. From behind me I heard Frank yell, "Freeze!" I wasn't sure who he meant, so I stopped to see what he would do.

He pushed around me with his gun out. His eyes darted between us: me in armor holding the shield between the kid and the teens, Tsu'na standing with a third arrow drawn, and the kid on the floor with two arrows in him and the gun somehow still in his hand. Frank settled on the kid and moved forward to grab the gun and wrest it from him.

I admit I don't know anything about Frank…how much of him is watching cop shows, and how much might be training he received somewhere, and how much actual copping he's done. But I'm guessing this was his first time at securing a perp with two arrows sticking out of him. It certainly would have been mine…we didn't exactly have perps in Eorzea.

I looked it up after we got home and found this on reddit: "No matter how incapacitated a suspect may appear to be, if they can move, then they have the potential for being dangerous. That is why they are handcuffed. In my training, we were taught to handcuff a suspect even if they were dead."

Frank hesitated, kind of fussed a bit, but did the job, pulling the kid's arms behind his back and cuffing him. It made the kid scream more, but he was already screaming. I don't know how all this affected the teenage customers -- the robbery, the gunfire, the violence, the screaming -- though they all seemed okay when they left. I didn't have a lot of sympathy for Ski Mask's trauma. I didn't have much for Frank.

He got on his radio, calling in the incident and requesting an ambulance and backup. While he was paying attention to Ski Mask, I switched to Earth-normal and got out my gator-hunting shield. Tsu'na followed my example, switched from her ranged gear and took out her gator-hunting bow.

I turned to the teens. "Okay, guys, show's over. Closing up now."

They didn't put up a fuss, but Frank did. "No one's leaving until I get statements!"

"They're underage, Deputy. You can't question them."

He peered at me. "Where's that armor you were wearing?"

"What armor?"

"You were wearing armor! Just a minute ago!"

I looked over my shoulder, betting on my esteem over Frank's. "Hey guys, was I wearing armor a minute ago?"

A rousing chorus of "No!"

I shrugged at Frank. "Dunno what to tell you. Must've been my heroic aura. Which probably doesn't show up on video." I didn't look to see if the teens behind me were suddenly busy with their phones.

"Then where's that shield from?"

"Made it in the workshop. You like it? I can cut you a deal on one."

He turned to Tsu'na. "You have a bow here?"

She tilted her head. "It is my hunting bow. I brought it here. Should I not have?"

He grimaced at the two of us. "You just happen to have weapons when an armed robbery occurs."

"Good thing too, huh? I didn't think I'd need a shield tonight…I just brought it to show my wife."

"It is a very nice shield, Husband."

"Thank you, my love."

None of this was placating Frank, but he still had a perp to manage. "You and your gear are coming to the station after I take care of this guy."

"Fine," I said. "Gonna show the kids out."

"I want names!"

"Get a subpoena!"

Tsu'na closed up the register as I led the kids around behind the counter to not interfere with Frank's crime scene. They acted like the incident was the coolest thing that had ever happened to them…which, in the Wyatt Metropolitan Vicinity, was probably true.

Backup arrived in the form of a member of the Oklahoma Highway Patrol, dressed in a brown version of Frank's attire. There was a localish ambulance, but the nearest hospital that could handle those sorts of wounds on a detained perp was in the Tulsa area, which made it a cross-county prisoner transport.

While Frank and the patrolman worked out details I called Hartman to let him know what happened. I assured him no one other than the robber had been hurt, and I gave Frank all the credit for the save. Hartman sounded relieved and told us to call for a ride if we needed one.

The arrangement was that the patrolman would ride in the ambulance with the perp while Frank followed with us. We locked up the diner, then Frank loaded the shield and bow into his car's trunk and us into the back seat.

That was the arrangement, anyway. The ambulance started off, Frank pulled out behind it while he radioed in. He didn't get far.

"Dispatch, en route with…"

"Frank! Charlie's in trouble!"

"Di--uh, Betty? What's going on?"

"Charlie's out by the old Lombard farm! He says he's pinned down and getting shot at!"

"Okay…uh…Call State and…"

"I did that! They say they're half an hour out! Charlie says there's too many of them! Sheriff and Mickey are on their way, but you're real close there!"

"Betty, I…I can't…I've got people in the car with me…"

"We consent," I said.

"...What?"

"We consent to being taken to a hazardous location. Go take care of your people."

"But…"

"Go!"

"...Dispatch, en route. Advise State and Patrolman Pickett of change of plans. Out."

Frank flipped on the cop lights and siren and made a hard U-turn in the middle of the road. He tore up the highway, made a right on a smaller road that petered out into gravel, then turned onto an even poorer dirt road. That led to a fence with a broken-down gate, fields on either side, and what in the dark looked like a house and a barn.

A bunch of vehicles were already there: two cop cars, their sides facing a herd of motorcycles and a couple SUVs. It looked like a broadside naval battle with all the muzzle flashes, though most of those were coming from the herd. The flashes on the cop side were far more fitful.

Whoever the opposition was, there was just too many of them. All they had to do was keep firing, keep the cops pinned down, and they could start coming around the sides. Frank pulled up and made the cop front a little longer, but shots started diverting our way before he'd even stopped the car.

He threw open his door, yelled "Keep down!" at us, and made his way out to join the others. Maybe he could have let us out, since the back doors are locked to the inside, but I suppose he thought we'd be safe in the car and not likely to do something stupid.

But we couldn't just sit there. We had to do something, stupid or no. There were too many gangbangers or whatever they were, they had too many guns, and they were too willing to use them. Sure, we could have just teleported out of there, but that would have left the cops behind. Even if the windows hadn't shattered, even if the car would have stopped all the bullets, we couldn't just sit there and be safe. It wasn't something we could do.

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ivoryminitower · 4 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 116 - Tsu'na ("funny girl")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

I did not expect to hear from Myra again after the fight. I thought she had made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with me. So I was surprised to get an email asking me to call her.

"Look…After that stunt you pulled I wouldn't have you around again, but there's people who really like seeing you fight."

"I have fans?"

"Something like that. So here's the deal. We'll do what they call an exhibition match. You fight, they watch, that's it. No betting. We charge fees for the streamers and tickets for the walk-in. You get a flat five hundred a fight. No more than one fight every two weeks."

"Who will I be fighting?"

"Whoever I say. Someone beats you, you're out. You good with this?"

"What about The Other Guy?"

"What other guy?"

"The man I last fought. Will he be allowed to fight too?"

"What do you care? You two dating or…No, don't answer that. Is he going to play ball? Do what I say?"

"I think he likes theatre."

"Then yeah, he can come back to fight. Maybe you'll get to beat him up again."

I told Myra I would think about it and let her know. It was a lot less money than I had gotten before, but it would be more than I am getting now. And if Husband did arena fights as I had, he could make as much as I had, especially if he is willing to do his theatre and lose for Myra.

I mentioned it to Husband, who grinned and said, "Funny Girl."

"Myra is a funny girl?"

"No, you are. Funny Girl was a Barbra Streisand movie about a stage singer. She didn't like a song she was told to perform, so she did it in a weird way. The show manager was furious, but the fans loved it, so he had to keep her."

"You mentioned Barbra Streisand before. Have you seen many of her shows?"

His grin went away, and he looked uncomfortable. "Just a couple…maybe four…"

"Is that…bad?"

Google does not say why it would be bad, and Husband did not want to explain. He was more interested in working on the airplane. The propeller arrived yesterday. Husband tested it with the engine fastened to the desk, then took the engine off the desk to actually put it in the aircraft body.

The engine fits behind the seats, so the propeller will push air behind us. The fuel tank is between the second seat and the engine. I think I could reach it to put more cornoline in. A plastic tube runs between the fuel tank and the engine, and wires go from the engine to the front of the airplane, in front of the driver pilot. Husband had made controls that connected to the wires.

There is also a battery that Husband says is for starting the engine. This is not the fuel cell he and Trevor are working on; it was another thing he had to buy.

Husband did not attach the wings. Without them, the airplane looked like a skinny car, almost like the Falcon without its sides. He sat in the front seat and did something with his controls to make the engine run.

The propeller spun so fast I could not see it, except for a cloudy brown disk. Then Husband did something else with his controls and the sound of the engine became louder and higher-pitched, which I think meant the propeller spun faster. The wingless airplane rolled slowly forward, then faster as Husband made the engine work harder still.

There is not a lot of space around the workshop, so Husband could not drive far. (It is an airplane, yet I think it is driving if it is not flying. Or perhaps simply riding.) The sound of his driving brought Sam out from the Pit.

Sam said there were hay fields to the northwest if we needed more room. Had we known where, we could have put the airplane in inventory and gone ourselves, but Sam offered to drive us. So instead we put the airplane into the back of his truck.

Sam called the owner of the hay fields on the way, a man named Jason. We got to a field where another truck was parked. Next to it was a man and a boy, who were Jason and his son Matt.

Husband and I got the airplane out of Sam's truck, and then the four of us watched Husband drive around the field, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. He could not steer the airplane -- he said the wings were used for steering -- so when he got far enough he had to stop the airplane, get out and turn it around.

On the way back, Husband apparently tried to make the engine work even harder. It looked like the airplane tried to stand on its nose. It rolled onto its side, dumping Husband onto the grass. The propeller cut through some of the grass before the engine stopped running.

Husband got the airplane back onto its wheels and drove it back to us. He declared it needed weight in the back seat if he was going to "open it up all the way." "Weight" apparently meant me.

I saw how the back seat had straps fastened to it that looked like belts. I think if the airplane wants to crash I would prefer to jump free instead of crashing with it, but the field did not look completely flat. Rather than bounce from my seat while Husband drove, I fastened the straps around myself.

He drove us across the field, as bumpy as it was, getting faster as we went. The airplane did not tip again, so I suppose I was enough weight.

After riding my Boreas in Eorzea and my goobbue here to heights where I could not clearly see the ground, it felt strange to worry about falling from a craft that did not even fly. Perhaps it was Husband's driving. Though I do wonder how much more I will worry when it does fly.

Both Jason and Matt wanted to see the airplane when we actually tried to make it fly, so Husband got Jason's phone number. We put the airplane back in Sam's truck, and we drove back to Wyatt.

Sam asked, "So you gonna keep workin' on it when we get back?"

Husband peered out the window. "Don't think there's time before the diner shift. It'll keep."

"Perhaps you can show me a Barbra Streisand movie," I said. "Since you have seen so many."

"Oh yeah?" Sam grinned. "Like in In and Out? Gonna get with Tom Selleck an' do theatrical commentary?"

I did not know what Sam meant by that. But it was interesting to see a grumpy Husband.

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ivoryminitower · 5 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 115 - Steve ("star")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

I think today has been a good day. Actually looking forward to tomorrow.

After shattering four solid maple propellers I decided to try something new. Looking at listings for propellers online, I see a lot of the wooden ones use "laminate," which means layers of wood glued together. Plywood is laminate. So is butcher's block. I decided to try something halfway in between.

I have a recipe for plywood I'd used to make a panel for the window at Flying Tigers that was shot out in the drive-by. Combining that with the recipe I'd managed for a propeller produced something that was a marked improvement on solid maple. I could tell it had strength from the layering, and I hoped it would have flexibility too if needed.

I took it out of the workshop to the patiently-waiting engine mounted on the desk. I got it onto the driveshaft and bolted it in place. I once more started up the engine to see if the propeller would spin.

It didn't want to spin. It wanted to writhe. I mean, sure, the driveshaft rotated with it, but it bucked. It wanted to shake the engine, but the engine was bolted to the desk and didn't go anywhere. I killed the gas before something got shaken apart.

At least I still had a propeller, for all the good it did me. I took it back to the workshop to review what I'd done wrong that time.

Tsu'na was sitting at the workbench, typing away at her laptop. "I am trying to find a word, Husband. Is there a word for an idea that changes one's way of thinking?"

"Uh…brainstorm? Revelation? Epiphany?"

"Spell that last one, please?" I spelled. She typed. She read. "Epiphany, yes, thank you. I think I have an epiphany."

"What would that be?"

"You spent more than three thousand dollars for the ultralight engine. Google says ultralight propellers are sixty dollars."

"That's not the point…"

"My epiphany is that it should be."

"But I'm trying to learn how to make one of these…"

"You bought a bicycle to learn how to make a bicycle. Can you not buy a propeller?"

I looked at the propeller in my hands and sighed. "We'll need to sell fifteen pies to cover it."

"We know how to make pies."

I set the propeller on the workbench and came around to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Clarity of vision, my love. Thanks. So show me what you found."

Turns out propellers are cheap. Stupid-cheap, considering how much the rest of the ultralight materials would have cost if we bought them. We had to weed through a lot of choices that included props for radio-controlled model planes…apparently propellers are a consumable for them.

Some were listed as coming "pre-balanced." Could be the problem this whole time was that I hadn't tried to balance the ones I made. No idea how to work balancing into the recipe, but there's a garage on the edge of town…maybe props can be balanced the same way as tires.

But the important thing was that a reasonably priced propeller, according to Amazon, could be in my hands as soon as…tomorrow. I could be operating an aircraft any day now.

Even after all the crafting I've done, here and in Eorzea, it still makes me a little giddy when something like this comes together.

There was a knock at the workshop door. I got up to answer it, wondering what Sam might want that he couldn't just call me for.

It wasn't Sam. I got the door open a couple inches to find Deputy Frank standing there with something resembling a polite smile. "Good afternoon, sir. Mind if I…"

He pushed on the door and stepped forward. I allowed it to open wide enough to step forward myself. He bounced off of me and was obliged to back up a couple steps.

I pulled the door shut behind me. I produced my own politeness-adjacent smile. "Something I can do for you, Deputy?"

"Just a friendly visit."

"I wasn't aware we were friends."

He held on to his excuse for a smile. "There's just some small matters I'd like to clear up. Perhaps we can step inside and discuss it?"

The lease meant he couldn't just barge in, and it didn't sound like he had a warrant. I don't know why he's so insistent on seeing what we do behind closed doors. I kept up my expression and held my position. "I'm kind of in the middle of something. Is this an official visit?"

"Just looking to improve community relations. Is your wife in? Perhaps we can all discuss it together." He reached past me to push on the door.

I held onto the knob. "We can talk out here."

"Is there something you don't want me to see, sir?"

"Is there something you insist on seeing, Deputy?"

He looked past me at the door, still sort of smiling. "Oh dear. Did I hear a sound of distress coming from inside?"

Sam was right. Deputy Frank not only watches cop shows, he watches cheesy cop shows. I lost my smile. I was about to lose my temper, when the knob twisted in my hand and I heard the door open. Tsu'na said from behind me, "Are you going to be long, Husband?"

Frank's eyes shifted and got wide. I followed his gaze to see part of my magnificent miqo'te visible from the doorway, her face and ears and a tantalizingly bare arm and shoulder. And a smile.

I turned back to Frank. "Do you have a warrant to inspect my wife, Deputy?"

He wrenched his eyes back to me, then lowered them. "Uh, sorry to disturb you, sir," he mumbled, and walked stiffly away.

Tsu'na opened the door for me as I came back inside. She stood there in her black summer tanga and halter, still smiling. "Was I a stripper, Husband?"

"No, my love, that was theatre. You were a star."

"Does that mean you do not want me to be a stripper?"

I didn't have much in the way of words or logic at that point. Logic wasn't a major component of the rest of the afternoon. Or productivity, for that matter.

And now I feel like I owe Frank something.

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ivoryminitower · 5 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 114 - Tsu'na ("wind chimes")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

I am trying to find things to do.

There are many things I can do. I have a lot of books I can read. Husband has collected videos I can watch. There are shards and materials to gather, and things to build. I can go into Tulsa and play the game, or simply explore. There are truly things to do.

But the thing I keep thinking about is the thing I cannot do. I am not fighting in Myra's fights. I am not Cat's Meow.

It is a piece of identity that I had made for myself, and now it is gone. Husband would perhaps say I am still me, and I must agree that that is true, but when I find myself wondering if I am even real it is nice to have more pieces of me.

I should perhaps ask Husband to ask Scott about other fights, since Scott seems to know about betting. But that is only part of the question.

I type this at the workshop. I have been here all day. I came here in the morning, thinking perhaps to work on something in Husband's our project list. Instead I opened a blank doc to type my thoughts. When I did not have any, I played a wind chime video and listened while I stared at the doc some more.

Husband has almost finished his our airplane. The propeller keeps breaking, or trying to. I think he uses working on furniture for the bar as his zen, since he will make a table or some chairs between trying to make another propeller. He certainly needs the zen after each propeller breaks.

Other than the airplane, the largest project on our list is a greenhouse. It will be a lot of work, perhaps more than the workshop, since the frame from the old shed was still available, even though I do not think there is any of it left. The greenhouse will require cedar and plexiglass, and something for a floor, and perhaps concrete or cermet, and we may also want lights and water pipes. It will require thought and planning.

Husband insisted on adding gardening as a separate project after the greenhouse. I do not understand why, unless he is concerned about crossbreeding. Plants want daily watering, but do not need specific tending before they finish growing in three or four days, so they should not affect our other tasks.

Listening to the wind chime sound made me curious about it. I googled wind chimes and saw pictures of ones that were for sale. They looked simple enough to make. There are things that make noise when hit ("tubes" or "rods"), things that do the hitting ("clapper"), things that are pushed by the wind to move the clapper ("feather"), string, and something for everything to hang from ("top piece").

We have a lot of copper and hempen yarn. The "feather" does not look like an actual feather; some seem to be made of thin wood, while others are a piece of leather. The top piece could be metal or wood. It seems most people use stone for a clapper; we have not been keeping a lot of stone, but there is granite nearby.

I could have written a recipe for wind chimes that used copper tubes and hempen yarn and granite and maple. But that would have been a recipe for one kind of wind chimes, and there were a lot of pictures of different kinds in google. Husband had talked about "template recipes" that would allow us to change one thing, as some of the recipes we learned let us do. But I thought that would not be enough.

Zhloe Aliapoh ran an orphanage in Idyllshire, and wanted us to make things for her that she could use to raise money to take care of children. But she did not have specific recipes for specific things. She had recipes that used "materials" to make "components" that would then make things.

The materials would sometimes change. She often wanted "keepsakes" of Western Coerthas; the materials for these were once dragon scale and mythrite, and another time were dark chestnut wood and yeti fur. When I had different materials I made different keepsakes. Yet the recipe did not change.

I studied Zhloe's recipe in the workshop, looking to see how and where it specified things to use and what to make. Both Husband and Eorzean scholars spoke of intent when working with aether, and I saw how to blend my own intent into the recipe to take what materials I had to make what I wanted made.

And so I wrote a recipe that took metal ore and stone and wood and yarn and made metal tubes and a metal ring and a stone disk and lengths of string and a flat wooden plate, then a further recipe that took these pieces and made a wind chime, with tubes of different lengths and string of the right lengths and a clapper and feather, all connected to a metal top piece. And it made sound when I touched the feather.

Hanging it in the workshop would not do, since there was no wind inside, so I made a signpost without a sign, placed it outside and hung the wind chime from that. The sound was different from the video I had listened to, and not as pleasant, so I took it down, desynthesized it and tried again.

I made four more attempts before Husband got back from gathering. After making a chime I tested the clapper against each of the tubes to consider the sound. I could make thinner-walled tubes and wider or narrower tubes to change the range of sound and how long the sound lasted after they were hit.

Husband returned as I was making one more set of components. He studied my recipes, copied them to his own journal, and started his own attempt as I hung up my last chime. He was very happy with the idea, and wants to try making food recipes the same way. I am willing to try a meat pie made that way, but I think I am content buying Guiseppe's pizza.

Husband called me brilliant as he has before. I do not know if I am brilliant, or if either of us are. But I am someone who can think of things like this.

I am an artisan. I make things. This is not news to me. It does not tell me anything about who or what I am that I did not already know. It does not truly tell me my identity.

But it is a piece of it.

And now we have wind chimes.

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ivoryminitower · 5 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 113 - Steve ("lease")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

There wasn't much of a reaction to my rampage among the bar patrons. People would be like, "What happened to the tables and chairs?" "Steve got mad and busted 'em." "Oh, okay." Busting up stuff in a bar is apparently a thing that happens. Or at least, me busting up stuff in a bar.

Tsu'na very kindly cleaned up after me, both literally and socially. She seemed amused by seeing me lose my cool for a change. She should have seen me at Flying Tigers when I stabbed the guy in the shoulder.

I hadn't done so much gratuitously impactful redecorating in a long time. Never that much at once. Maybe a single chair at a time. A few individual occurrences of a fist through drywall. Only one set of knuckle prints in a fridge. And all that was long before Eorzea.

It shouldn't have happened this time. But Deputy Frank just ticked me off. He seemed bound and determined to get up in my business, and that included getting into my workshop. (Yeah, yeah, our workshop, but Tsu'na was taking it a lot less personally than I was, as far as I could tell.)

We practically rebuilt that rustbucket of a shed from the ground up. It was our project, our creation, and now Frank was telling us it's not our space. Not quite his, but as part of "inspecting the bar" he says he can go into it any time he wants.

So I guess I thought some of the tables and chairs in the Pit had his face on them.

Even though he had his face on him too, I managed to not punch it yesterday morning. He'd knocked on the workshop door just as I was finishing up a table, so when I opened the door I rolled it out right at him, making him dodge. I stopped, and we regarded each other.

"Mr. Hyurcat."

"Deputy."

"I'm here to inspect the shed."

"Understood."

We stood there a moment longer before he asked, "Would you mind getting that out of the way?"

I considered saying, Oh, no, this is where I'm installing it, sorry, but the resulting conversation might have made me reconsider my restraint, so I kept on rolling. "Close the door when you're done, please."

Sam watched me roll the first replacement table through the door. I could maybe have made replacements for all of the furniture the night before…I had the energy, certainly, but not the wood. So Tsu'na was out getting more wood while I was calmly and collectively building new furniture at less-than-superhuman speed.

Sam set a bottle of cider on the bar for me. I ambled over and climbed on a stool. "Thanks."

"Y'ain't a mean drunk, are ya? Still some tables that ain't smashed."

"I'll be good."

He nodded. "Ya know…I'm just gonna throw this out here…Maybe we can write up a lease?"

"Problems with ID," I muttered.

"Yeah, you said that. Ever gonna tell me what they are?"

Oh, it's simple. I'm effectively a clone of someone twice my age, so my unmarried name and my social security number and my fingerprints and my DNA and probably my retina pattern and all belong to him. Maybe my face too. Not sure what-all got changed in my cycle through Eorzea. So if anyone ever really checked me out they'd find I don't exist, or at least I shouldn't. "Probably not, sorry."

"I mean, it's just signin' a piece o' paper to wave in Frank's face. How much ID does that take?"

"Gotta file with the court house, don't we?"

"Only if there's a dispute. You plannin' on disputin' with me?"

I shrugged. "My father was a lawyer. He used to say a contract was for when, not if, things go wrong. Anyway, doesn't my identity need to be tied to this somehow? So when I do sue you for twenty million dollars they know it's me?"

"Signature?"

"Need something official to compare it to."

"Fingerprint?"

"Let's pretend that's not an option."

He studied me, but didn't quibble. "Photo?"

I thought about it. "Maybe. That gives me an idea. Back in a bit."

The library had a printer I could pay to use. I researched leases, did some editing, and printed out three copies. I took them back to the Pit.

Sam accepted a copy and started reading. "For an' in consideration of the sum of one dollar and other good an' valuable consideration, the undersigned party o' the first part, hereinafter referred to as 'Landlord'..." He went silent as he continued to read, then looked up at me. "You wrote this?"

"Bastardized something I found online."

"'Kay. So what're you doin' about ID?"

"Look at the last page."

I'd taken a selfie on my phone, transferred it to gphotos, and included it on the signature page of the lease as part of the page background. The signature lines went over the picture, so signing the lease meant signing the picture, which I think means acknowledging the picture as identity for the lease. I think. I Am Not A Lawyer.

"Huh. What about yer wife?"

"What about her?"

"You don't mention her in this."

"Uh…she's my wife. Community property?"

"Not in this state. 'Sides, ya got a marriage license to go with that ID you don't have?"

If I do, it's in Eorzean. Possibly even in Eorzea. "...Common law marriage?"

"Tell that to Frank."

I mumbled and grumbled and headed back to the library. Tsu'na was out in the woods, so I linkpearled her and asked her to send me a selfie. It came out nice and pastoral with the trees in the background.

When I got the new lease printed, she met Sam and me at May's grocery store, because apparently May was the town notary ("More hats than people in this town," she said). We all signed three copies ("One to file, one to keep and one to lose," as Dad used to say) and I handed Sam a dollar.

"So does this mean I can throw Frank out now?"

"Better to not let him in."

"Roger that."

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ivoryminitower · 5 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 112 - Tsu'na ("deleterious")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

Husband made me breakfast yesterday as I had asked, or perhaps demanded. I asked for an omelet and he made me one. I asked for pancakes and he made them too. I thought about asking for more food than I could eat, simply to make him do it. I could have stored the rest in inventory for later. But I decided his willingness to do it was enough. I even shared the food he made with him.

As we ate, we talked about the sort of fighting he had done. I had thought much of what he did in the fight was simply silly. He agreed, but explained why. Part of it was that, other than his Monk skills, he did not actually know much about "hand to hand" fighting, and was doing whatever he could think of, however silly it might have been.

Another part was that Monk skills do not have a large number of different moves. Had we been fighting against an enemy, it would perhaps have looked like we were doing the same things. So had we been using our Monk skills to fight against each other as hard as we could, it might look to some people that we were doing the same things to each other. So a real fight between us might look to others as a fake fight between actors.

Husband's "silly" fighting, then, had been an attempt to not look the same as whatever I might do. It was only "silly" because he did not know "real" ways to fight.

We spent the rest of the morning looking at videos of different types of fighting, things Husband had talked about before. Boxing looked like Pugilism. Wushu looked like a mix of dodging, grabbing and throwing. Karate was like Boxing, except not only using the knuckles. Krav Maga looked like everything and nothing.

We may need to learn other things and somehow combine them with our Monk skills. And if we are ever to fight each other again for others' entertainment, we may need to learn how to coordinate and not do the same things. We will need time, and teachers, and places to learn and practice. And we may need to not do the learning together, so that people will not know we are planning our fights. Husband talked about something called "the prestige."

While Husband worked on making his airplane propeller, I spent part of the afternoon gathering maple logs, as our supply was low. I wish Husband had told me that we would need more than usual. But I suppose he did not yet know. Still, it was not how I had planned to spend this morning.

We had come to the bar after dinner and had not yet found stools when Sam gave us some news. "Deputy Frank came by. Seems he's gonna be inspectin' the workshop on a reg'lar basis."

Husband peered at Sam. "He can get warrants on a regular basis?"

"He claims he don't need 'em. That the shed's just part o' the bar."

"What happened to all that landlord-tenant stuff we talked about?"

"He says that only counts if there's a lease. Which, per whatever issues you got, you 'n I don't have."

"Okay, but that means it's your shed, right? So you can require a warrant?"

Sam sighed. "Establishments that serve alcohol are subject to inspection on a reg'lar basis to ensure there are no activities bein' conducted that are threatenin' or deleterious to the community."

Husband simply stared at him.

"He can inspect the bar, shed's part o' the bar…" Sam shrugged. "He can inspect the shed."

"So he can just walk in at any time? I can't even, like, put a sock on the doorknob or something?"

I did not know what this meant. Sam apparently did. He smirked. "This establishment does not provide facilities fer adult entertainment."

"I mean…can I at least lock the door? Make him knock?"

"S'pose so. Though I dunno if he watches bad cop shows…he might try to kick the door down if he hears sounds o' distress."

Deputy Frank has seemed to make a hobby of watching us, sometimes as we work at the diner, and only rarely as we work at the bar. Sam thinks it is because we are new in town, and there is very little else happening in the county to distract him. It may also be because sometimes strange things happen around us, and those who might have seen them have nothing to say to Frank if he asks them.

Husband and I do sometimes spend casual time in the workshop, but it is not very comfortable for what I think Sam meant by "adult entertainment." But we do our Eorzean crafting there, which Husband has said we should not do in front of others. So we would not want Frank walking in on us unexpectedly.

Husband was not happy about the news. I was not either, but he seemed to be taking it hard. He leaned against the back of a chair, his eyes not focused on anything in particular.

Then he lifted the chair and slammed it into the floor, smashing it.

He punched the table that was next to the chair, splitting it in two. He grabbed two chairs and crushed them together. He stomped to another table and continued his rampage, as if the room's furniture was his solo duty.

Sam and I watched silently from the bar. When Husband at last seemed to run out of rage, he stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by debris. His head and shoulders drooped.

Sam quietly said, "Y'know…yer just makin' more work fer yerself…"

"Something for Frank to walk in on," Husband muttered. After a moment he made himself straighten. "Guess I'll get started on the replacements." He headed through the back to the workshop.

I turned to Sam and smiled. "I will pick up the pieces."

"Don't ferget yer shift. Yer husband get like this a lot?"

"When we were…on deployment, there was usually a good target for anger."

"Remind him he ain't on deployment now?"

"I will."

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ivoryminitower · 5 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 111 - Steve ("choices")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

Tsu'na went out for breakfast without me today. I let her be. Her way seems to be to go let her thoughts settle before coming to conclusions. I can understand that. I did my share of Storm Out for a Drive back in the day.

I looked for her on the map from time to time. She started out at the diner, then moved to the library, then went into Tulsa, then finally ended up at the sheep ranch southwest of there. Maybe she finds sheep tranquil? I'll show her some stupid sheep videos.

I had reasons for how I handled the match. I was ready to tell her about them when she was prepared to listen. Which likely was going to be after she was prepared to talk. Which didn't happen for the bulk of the day.

So I spent the time working on the ultralight propeller. There aren't any propeller recipes in Eorzea…pinwheel and windmill recipes, yes, but they're meant to be pushed by the air, not push the air. One of the airships we can build in the free company workshop does use screws instead of a gasbag, but I don't have a recipe for them -- those were made by the workshop Thing, which acts like something between a mill and a 3D printer: put material in one end, get products out the other.

Remarkably hard to write a recipe for something wooden that's flat just so yet curved just so with ends rounded just so and a hole in the middle shaped just so. Especially when the "just sos" are being estimated.

But I got something made, so I dragged the desk I made as a test engine mount out into the yard, bolted the engine to it, hooked up the fuel line, secured the propeller to the drive shaft as best I could, and tried to get it to spin. And after a couple more iterations of the drive shaft mount it finally did.

I collected the pieces of the propeller, looked at where they had broken, and rewrote the recipe to make those parts thicker. Two more broken propellers later I packed everything away again and went back to the drawing board.

The maple itself wasn't the problem, apparently. The problem was that I was trying to use maple by itself. Commercial wood propellers are made of laminate -- layers of wood bonded together, for more strength and flexibility. Of course, commercial propellers are also made of carbon and fiberglass, but that's a whole 'nother level of research.

Tsu'na was at the sheep ranch at that point. I was maybe feeling edgy, waiting for her to come home and talk with me. Or even come home and not talk with me. So I decided the propeller wasn't going to happen today, contacted Original Me about his Steam account, and looked for some random crap to distract myself with. Which turned out to be "Slay the Spire."

After I'd spent rather a lot of time at deckbuilding, Tsu'na came into the workshop. She pulled a stool up to the workbench, sitting across from me. She set her laptop on the workbench but didn't open it. She didn't say anything.

I eventually asked, "How was Tulsa?"

"Not productive. I could not make myself play the game."

"And the sheep?"

"Their wagging tails are very cute."

We sat that way for a moment, her looking at her unopened laptop, me looking at my paused game.

Then she said, "You hurt me."

"You hurt me back."

"You deserved it."

"I acknowledge that. Are you mad that I hurt you?"

She sighed. "We have been hurt worse."

"Yeah, like that time at the Orbonne Monastery when--"

"Husband."

I stopped. This was her time to talk.

"How many more times will this happen?"

"Please be more specific?"

"Surprising me. Trying to be clever. Not telling me your plan."

"Well…I thought it was a good idea this time. There may be a time in the future when I think that again. So…more than zero."

"And why did you think it was a good idea this time?"

"I thought if you looked surprised the audience would think I was unusual. As opposed to suddenly losing to someone who just isn't any better than anyone else, you'd be losing to someone totally different. So if you lost it wouldn't look staged."

"Why was that so important?"

"Because…they might have thought less of you if they thought you threw the fight. I mean, I heard how they were cheering for you. That wasn't just people who won a bet. That was people who admired you. They might not if they thought you were just another fighter on the take."

"And why could you not have told me this? Could we not have planned it?"

"Possibly. But that would have involved you pretending to be surprised. Last night you were honestly surprised. Less work, more authentic-looking."

"You are saying I cannot do your theatre?"

I could maybe have weasel-worded something assuring and complimentary. All things considered, I think that would have been a bad precedent to set in our relationship. We Need to Talk. "I haven't seen you do it enough to rely on it, no."

"You do not trust me. You cannot count on me. This is what you are saying?"

Talking was going so swimmingly. "It's more that I count on myself. If I know I can do a thing, it's easier for me to think of doing it myself rather than having someone do it for me, and…maybe not doing it as well. Failure to delegate."

"But that is you making the choice. Delegating is done by someone in charge, is it not? You make a lot of choices for the two of us. Do you think you are in charge of us? In charge of me?"

"'A Sergeant in motion outranks a Lieutenant who doesn't know what's going on.'"

"...What?"

"Sorry. It's a quote from a book: The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries. It means whoever understands a situation and responds appropriately to it has more authority in that situation regardless of assigned rank."

"Then you are claiming you know everything about everything. And that I know nothing about everything."

It was a bit of an exaggeration, but, I realized, not by much. I'd gotten so used to taking the lead when stuff was new for her that I hadn't made the shift when it wasn't any more.

"I do that a lot, don't I?"

"Yes. And if you truly believe what you said, then every time you do it you are saying I cannot."

"I don't mean to say that. I just mean that I can."

"If there is something I need to learn, you not letting me do it will not teach me."

"There may be a lot you need to learn. I don't always think of it before it's an issue. And when that happens there isn't always time to make it a teachable moment."

"Then perhaps you are doing it wrong. Perhaps you should not let things happen that way."

"I don't always have a choice!"

"You have one. Do not make choices for me."

"There might be times when--"

"Do not make choices for me. Ask me. Inform me. Involve me. Work with me."

"What if--"

"Find a way."

I wanted to discuss, maybe negotiate, possibly even quibble. But I knew that at that moment there was only one correct answer.

"Yes, my love."

"You will make me breakfast tomorrow."

"Of course."

"You will make a lot of breakfast."

"Whatever you want."

She finally opened her laptop and looked down. I contemplated the game and decided I wasn't that interested in it. I switched to stupid sheep videos.

After a period of nothing but mouse-clicking, she said, "I like number 43."

"Number 43?"

"Of your Seventy Maxims book."

"Oh. Which one's that?"

"'If it is stupid and it works, it is still stupid and you are lucky.'"

"Oh yeah, that's a good one. My favorite is, 'Everything is drop-deployable at least once.'"

Her lips quirked. After a moment she quietly said, "I saw your note."

I didn't respond.

"I had stopped at the house before going to Sperry. I saw the note on the pillow. 'I love you, Tsu'na.' I thought you were trying to be romantic, or perhaps encouraging. But in stories I have read, that sort of thing is called a 'suicide note,' is it not?"

"There's a superclass that includes notes you leave before doing something really dangerous. For times there's something you want said in case you never get the chance to."

"You thought you might die?"

"I was pretty sure I wouldn't. Wasn't as sure about us."

"So you knew it was a stupid thing. Yet you did it anyway."

I sighed. "Myra only cares about money. She doesn't care about what people think of you, or what you think of yourself. I knew you did."

"I did. Yes." She contemplated her laptop for a moment before asking, "What made you think of doing it? Was there some…story or something that inspired you?"

"...The Owl and the Pussycat. Old movie, George Segal and Barbra Streisand, 1970. There's a scene where the man does something that makes the woman laugh so hard she gets hiccups…"

"What are hiccups?"

"Convulsions caused by air in the food pipe. There's a folk remedy for them…scaring the person with them is supposed to get rid of them. So the guy goes and puts on a skeleton suit…"

"A sexy skeleton suit?"

"Not on a young George Segal. He puts it on, sneaks up behind the woman and scares her."

"Did it work?"

"Well, she panics and nearly kills him, but I think it stopped the hiccups, yeah."

Tsu'na closed her eyes. She pursed her lips. She rested her face in her hand. "May the gods smite you for making me laugh."

"We smite gods, remember?"

"Yes, we do."

"So, next time we're fighting, do you want me to wear the skeleton suit in the ring?"

From the way her head lowered to the table and her shoulders started to heave, I think I just might get smote.

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ivoryminitower · 5 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 110 - Tsu'na ("the other guy")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

I type this at the diner as I am eating breakfast. The Hartmans were surprised to see me here. They know Husband and I usually have breakfast at the house, and they probably believe we usually eat together, but today I am at the diner and I am alone.

Husband would probably have made me breakfast if I had stayed. He perhaps would have made me a feast if I had wanted. But after waking up I got dressed and came here without speaking to him. Before I talk with him, I need to think about last night.

Husband had offered to sleep on the couch, or even in the tent. I told him to join me in bed because after the evening at the fights I wanted a massage. I do not know if it was because of the massage or the end of the dread, but I did sleep well.

Myra had proposed a sort of "championship" for the evening, to see who would be the final winner. She said that if I could win two fights in a row, I might seem worn out enough to be beaten in a third. It sounded like the sort of strategizing, or perhaps theatre, that Husband would approve of.

Perhaps I should have thought of the fighting as theatre from the very beginning. But I was enjoying being successful because of what I was and what I could do. And I liked the adulation.

I think Myra had timed the fights so that my loss would be the end of the evening. Other people fought, and the winners fought again. No one won twice, and in the end there were three winners remaining that would fight me. I did not pay attention to the fights or the fighters until it was my time. The first opponent was big. The second was fast. Neither were more of a challenge than any others had been.

The fast one was helped or dragged out of the cage. There was a pause in the audience noise as the next opponent approached. I took some time to stretch my arms and back. Myra has said the audience likes when I do that.

Tom's voice rang out. "And Cat's Meow is still going strong! But can she handle three fights in a row? Let's find out! Her third and last opponent this evening is…uh…The Other Guy!"

The cage door shut and I turned.

Husband.

He stood there without a shirt and smiled at me. I could not speak at first.

"...Why are you here?"

"I'm here to fight."

"You should not be here!"

"Aw, but after I heard you were fighting I couldn't stay away."

"What do you want?"

His smile got bigger. He thought he was being clever. "Well, now, I heard you have a title here, so I thought I'd come and take it away from you." His smile got bigger still. "Just like I did in Wolves' Den."

Husband and I never went to Wolves' Den. It is the one place in all of Eorzea where duelling is conducted. We would spar if we were inclined, but we never felt the need to find out which of us was better.

But that fight was apparently different. Husband was telling me it was Wolves' Den, and it was a duel.

I did not want to hurt him. I did not want him to hurt me.

But I did not agree to lose.

I did not know what he was planning. I assumed he was planning something. He had had time to think about it, especially if he started when he had said to me, "Maybe Myra will find someone you won't feel bad about losing to." Even if he had not thought of it right then, he would have needed time to find Myra and arrange to fight me. So it was not a sudden idea.

I decided I needed to see what lead he would give me to follow. How he started, how he stood, how he moved, how he feinted, I believed, would tell me what he expected to happen.

I believed wrong. When Tom called "Fight!" Husband charged.

In the blink of an eye he was in front of me, ramming his left arm into my face. Right after that his right fist struck my stomach.

I was no longer used to that sort of fighting. I had not had a true fight since leaving Eorzea. Earth people I fight cannot hurt me, or even slow me down unless I let them. Husband was hurting me. He was slowing me down. He was driving me back while I tried to think of what to do.

He did not give me time to think. He did things I did not expect, things I had not seen before. He would flutter the fingers of one hand in my face before hitting me with the other. (He later said it was from "the three stooges".) He would slap and poke and ram. He would mix in Monk attacks. I tried to block it all, to slow him down, but he is as strong as I am. Once I was on the defensive with him, I remained that way.

He finally used both his arms to ram me again, then kicked my leg to make me trip. Another kick caught me in the side, and I rolled away to come up in a crouch, resting on one knee to regain my breath. It gave me a very brief moment to think about what was happening.

I was angry. Angry about Husband being clever without telling me. Angry about Myra making this happen by telling me to lose. Angry that the first true fight I have had since coming to this world was against the man I love.

Perhaps that is why I fought as I did.

Husband had been stepping toward me to finish the fight. I surged up from my crouch and drove my shoulder into his stomach. My charge lifted him off his feet and slammed his back into the cage wall.

It forced the wind from his lungs. I wrapped an arm around him and put my fist again and again into his belly, trying to keep him from getting it back.

He brought both fists down on my shoulders. I released him, grabbed one of the pounding arms and pulled, unbalancing him onto me. With another punch to the belly I was able to lift him off the ground and flip him over me onto the floor.

I sat down hard on his chest. Air blew from his lips, and he shook his head as if trying to regain his senses.

I glared down at him. He steadied and met my eyes. I raised my fist. I punched him.

Then I punched him again.

And again.

The crowd had been cheering. They were cheering no longer. It was completely silent when I stopped hitting him. Blood was on my hand. Blood was on his face. Blood may have been on my face.

I had not hit him enough to kill him. I doubt I had knocked him out. He could perhaps have flung me off of him, used Second Wind, and continued the fight. He did not. He simply laid there with his eyes closed.

My anger was turning to weariness, but I think I was still scowling. I picked myself up from the floor, stepped unsteadily to the cage wall, and gripped the wire to pull myself upright. I left a trail of blood on the wire as I worked my way to the cage door.

Tom looked frightened. Perhaps he did not want to let me out of the cage. I brought myself close to the wire.

"I win."

Tom pulled himself together and raised his microphone. "The winner and champion for the night…Cat's Meow!"

He undid the latch on the cage door and stepped back. I pulled it open, held out my hand for my overcoat, and put it on.

Then the chanting started.

"Cat's Meow! Cat's Meow!"

First one voice, then two, then more. As I made my way toward Myra's office the room rang with the voices.

"CATS-MEE-OW! CATS-MEE-OW!"

I turned, raised a hand to them, and tried to smile. The chanting continued. I opened the door and went to collect my pay.

Myra looked unhappy as she raised her eyes from the screen on her desk. "What the hell was that? You were supposed to go down in that last fight!"

"I told you I did not want to lose."

"And I told you to do what I said! Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"I got hurt for others' entertainment."

Jonah, standing nearby, chuckled. "You shoulda seen The Other Guy." Myra glared at him, and he became quiet.

She turned back to me. "Why the hell couldn't you listen to me? You just caused me a whole lotta grief!"

"Can you not get money from other fights? The people are still here."

"This isn't about them! Or you! Didn't you see the cameras out there? These fights are streamed! There's other people watching…rich people, important people. Dangerous people! People who really want the fights they bet on to go a certain way. Do you understand that?"

I understood. Aldis in Ul'dah had said something similar about the gladiator fights, and how he had been told to lose. He did not listen. He was nearly killed for his decision.

I am more dangerous than Aldis. Especially in this world. But these rich, important, dangerous people could perhaps still be troublesome.

"You did not tell me this."

"I told you to lose! Why wasn't that enough?"

"I do not lose. But if I have caused you trouble, I will settle for base pay."

"You really think I'm paying you for this?"

The door behind me opened. I heard Husband's voice. "'Scuse me…this where I get paid?"

Myra and I turned to look at him. He walked in with uneven steps. His face still had blood on it. He would have completely healed at that point, so being bloody and limping was more of his theatre.

Myra redirected her anger. "You! You said you could beat her!"

"I said I'd try. She's learned some new moves since the last time we fought." He approached the desk and stood beside me. "You said I'd get paid win or lose."

"I just lost a buttload of money and got a buttload of trouble because you couldn't do the job!"

"Not my problem. You said I could fight her and I did. You said I'd get paid."

Myra started to reply, but stopped. Her eyes narrowed as she looked from Husband to me and back again. "Wait a minute…Are you two in this together?"

"What, are you kidding? Did you see that fight? She beat the crap out of me! You think I'd sign up for something like that? I mean…"

He paused and looked at me.

I looked back at him.

Myra looked at both of us.

"...I mean…you wanna get a drink after this?"

"...I would like a drink."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Myra opened a drawer, grabbed a stack of money and slapped it down on the desk. "Here! Take it and get out of here! I don't want to see either of you ever again!"

We reached for the stack at the same time. Our hands met on top. After a hesitation, Husband peeled off a third of the stack. We put the money away and turned to go.

As the door closed behind us, I asked, "Why?"

"Thought you should have someone worthy to possibly lose to."

"You could not have told me about this?"

"Got a more realistic reaction by just showing up."

"More of your Stanislavski?"

"Ridley Scott, actually. Look up 'alien chest burster scene'."

"I did not lose. Did you let me win?"

"No, my love. You won fair and square."

"I beat the crap out of you."

"Yes you did."

Outside the building, a group of men was waiting for us. Perhaps they had hoped to make money betting against me.

Husband and I looked at each other. We looked back at them. We smiled.

They let us pass.

Perhaps people are finally getting the message.

We are Hyurcat. Do not fuck with us.

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