#[grips ffxiv armor by the neck] why are you like this

[thefatedmeeting]

SPITS BLOOD I FINISHED IT... comm for @rakatakat !!!! TYSM FOR COMMISSIONING ME KAT IT WAS LOVELY TO DRAW THEM... im stealing katahkina she hot... sorry ardbert and meteor

[pervasivescariness]

[ A Gathering of Threads ]

Part Three: Ghosts

( @ivaan-ffxiv​ )

"Come then, let us discuss what sort of compensation you might require in exchange for a look at that key."

It took a moment for Ivaan to process that he had gotten through to her, a revelation which came as a pleasant surprise. Nodding, Ivaan bent down to pick up his own lantern, keeping an eye on Bee all the while. Slowly, he advanced. His polearm was kept with its point low as he walked, being sure to keep a good berth between him and the stranger. Though she appeared to have been mollified for the moment, he would not put it past her for this all to be some sort of ruse. There was a soft scraping sound of metal against stone as Bee seated the lantern back in the little flat nook upon the remains of the pillar, tracing a finger along its top rim once she had set it down fully. A quick shimmer of aether lit the ring along its edge and within moments the lantern had relit itself, glowing with a soft, warm glow akin to that of a regular flame. Bee stood on the opposite side of the pillar, keeping it and the lantern between her and Ivaan, the light fully revealing her to Ivaan as she waited. 

The deep blue of the cloak was now visible from the gloom, the mass of ginger curls fully aflame in the new light set before her, golden clasps which held the cloak in place at her throat, glittering. With her hands on her hips, she waited for him, the cloak pulled away over one shoulder to reveal to him the strange silver hilt attached to her hip which boasted no blade as well as the smart black blouse tucked carefully into her pants. The onyx buttons glimmered in the light alongside a teardrop shaped stone of deep-red which hung from her neck. The color was cut diagonally up the center in a jagged line, as black as her outfit beneath the cloth. 

"I haven't much gil on me, but I can promise you, if what you have truly is the key which opens this door, I will see to it that House Moineaux compensates you properly for your cooperation."

As the pair settled at the site, Ivaan had just set his own lantern down adjacent to hers when the rim of the whole pillar flared alight with a shimmer of aether. The sudden brightness had Ivaan take a step back, raising a hand to shield his eyes for a moment. Strangely enough, it was now plain to see that there were no slits in his helm to speak of. His grip on his weapon tightened for a moment... and relaxed as no attack came. 

"I do not care for gil. As I said before, I want to be sure that..." 

As he had spoke, Ivaan had taken in his company's newly revealed visage, the shadows pulled open like a curtain by the swelling light. The armored figure was as a statue again, staring. The warm glow of the light they shared caught her long curls, wreathing the woman's crown like flames, framing a freckled face... Mismatched hues of blue and green stared back at him, the round pupils of a Keeper of the Moon at their center. She was beautiful, he thought, and reminded him of... A glint caught the lower periphery of his sight, a flash of crimson. From behind his helm, his eyes darted downward like a hawk upon a rabbit to the source. Somewhere well outside of his universe, which had shrunk to the edges of his tunneled vision as he stared at the stone, something metallic clattered to the floor. His weapon had fallen from his hand, Ivaan not even having noticed its slip from his loosened grasp. 

Bee watched his approach in silence, choosing to remain still so as to not accidentally move in a way that might be perceived as a threat. He had the reach on her with that polearm of his and while she knew she was fast, she did not yet know how fast her opponent was. As he came fully into her light, now within a distance for details, her eyes began their slow crawl over his form. It was not an armor she had seen before and as she studied the strange curves and points along the shoulders, she wondered just where it had been forged; as if knowing its origin could offer her some clue as to the wearer's identity. From toes to head her eyes roamed, coming to rest at that featureless helm which stirred a slight amount of unease now that she was looking at it up close. From a distance it had looked like any other full helm, its defining feature, or lack thereof, not immediately noticeable until he was closer. Her thoughts were pulled away from from the stranger's appearance by the sudden clatter of metal upon stone.

"T-That stone... No..."

Immediately Bee tensed, her hand sliding from hip to hilt to grasp it tightly as she took a tentative step backwards in surprise. Staring at him wide-eyed for a moment, her eyes darting from helm to hand to the ground, double checking to ensure that he had indeed just dropped his weapon. She barely registered what he had said through the sudden confusion which followed watching such a fierce-looking man discard his weapon as though in fear. She had meant to check behind her, to see if his reaction had something to do with the door which stood a few fulms away...and then it fully registered what he had said. Instinctively, her left hand flew to her chest, grabbing the stone in question and hiding it behind pale fingers. 

Staring at him with a mix of confusion and suspicion, Bee ventured a defensive, "...What? What of it?" It was a harmless river rock, after all, its value held merely in sentiment...so why was he reacting as though he was seeing something unnatural?

Ivaan did not even see the hand move to the odd silver hilt in surprise at the sudden racket. What of it? It should be the most obvious thing in the world! How was this possible? How could she be alive? Ivaan had seen the corrupted crystal formations splashed across the coasts, heard of the eye-witness accounts of Bahamut himself swooping over Limsa Lominsa. How. Was. She. Alive? In his stunned stupor, he managed to take a step forward, that armored head tilting as his gaze scoured her anew... If he squinted, he could imagine that long hair of hers at shoulder length, with the tips of her canines just barely poking out from under her upper lip. 

"Bee..." The armored figure rattled, his voice strained to the breaking point between hope, fear, and heartbreak.

Her grip tightened on the hilt as she tensed, the armored man suddenly taking a step towards her with his head tilted at an odd angle. What was he doing? She held her ground, watching him with a confused frown, trying to understand his movement. It wasn't a hostile step and he had made no move to pick up his weapon. It was as though he were in a trance and for a brief moment Bee wondered if perhaps whatever lie beyond that door might be affecting him...and then he said her name. The confusion was doubled, ears flat back to her head now as she looked him over, alarm bells ringing in her mind. He had only moments ago acted a mere stranger...so then how was it that he knew her name? Her grip on her necklace tightened as she tried desperately to figure out if she had perhaps met him somewhere...worked with him on something...perhaps he was familiar with her through someone else? Yet, she knew at her core that she had never seen that armor. This was not a man she had met before...was it? 

Cautiously, she replied, "I'm sorry...have we met?”

The confirmation nearly sent him to the floor. Bee... His heart thundered, a maelstrom of emotions washing over him. Elation, regret, relief, shame... He was actually glad for a moment that she had not been able to suss out who he was. Gave him time to recover from the emotional shock of this revelation. His hand, shaking, moved to the bag slung over his shoulder. Sight was not required to retrieve what he was looking for... Innermost compartment, all the way at the bottom. A blocky shape wrapped in fabric was placed upon the flat part of the broken stone pillar. Pulling the knots in the thick twine free, the waxed fabric was unwrapped to reveal a polished walnut box. The top of this box was pushed sideways, not lifted, the top panel sliding along a hidden groove expertly carved into the wood where the two parts met. Within, nestled in soft fabric... a spiral seashell. The lanterns flanking the box set the pearlescent surface of the trinket alight in the yellow glow that now lit their little corner of the room. 

Bee had continued to watch his movements carefully, keeping absolutely still, tensed and ready to spring away if need be. Yet the man simply pulled a small box out from his bag, setting it between the two lanterns on top of the pillar. Her fear of an attack was slowly fading, overtaken by the sudden curiosity over just what was in the box, who this man was. Relaxing slightly, she watched him unknot the twine, pull away the fabric, and slide the carefully crafted box open. Unbeknownst to her, she had begun to lean forward slightly, curiously peering into the box as it was opened. The gleaming shell which met her eye gave her pause and for a moment she merely stared at it, a sudden sense of familiarity now overtaking that previous fear and suspicion. It looked like--

"I-It is me, Bee. Your Ivaan..."

His words reached her ear, a name which she had not heard in what felt like forever, causing her to tear her eyes from the box to stare at that featureless helm wordlessly. Gone was that cautious frown, the suspicion and the worry, replaced with naught but wide-eyed shock. Her lips parted slightly, as though to refute his claim, yet no words came. The shock had taken all the thoughts from her head, dashing them to fragments which rattled uselessly around her mind as she stared at him. Bee no longer held her weapon, her right hand moving up to cover her mouth as she began to shake her head slightly, refusing to believe what was presented. It couldn't be!

"But you..." the words seemed distant, as though someone else were speaking them, "...this can't..." 

It was hard to speak, her voice quiet and beginning to tremble along with the rest of her as she fought the swell of emotion within her chest, "...you're..." 

She had taken a step around the pillar, continuing to stare at him as she tried to make sense of it all. "You can't be. I-Ivaan is...he's...."  

She couldn't quite say it. Couldn't get the words from her lips. She looked at this armored ghost wordlessly, helplessly, desperately trying to piece her words back together from the jumbled fragments of thoughts and emotions in her head.

Ivaan nodded gently, "I know..." He placed his hands upon the edge of the broken pillar, leaning his weight into stone. "You gave me this, the summer after I gave you that stone." 

A motion of the head toward her accompanied his words. "The summer we made our plans for us to come visit your village... Our last summer."  

Not that she needed reminding, of course, but it was something to bolster his claim a bit. He fell silent, just trying to make sense of all of this. Just... how? The shock was overriding all other thoughts still, such as vaulting over that stone to take her in his arms. To cry out in elation, to shed tears, all of it just bowled over by how impossible this was. Part of him expected to wake up at any moment, with naught but the shell.

"Our last summer..." She echoed his words with a whisper, taking another small step around the pillar as she continued to stare at him. 

She didn't dare move her eyes from him on the off chance that he would disappear into the darkness which hung about the rest of the room, leaving her there with nothing more but a pair of lanterns and an old shell. She had so many questions, so many things she wished to say. Our last summer. There was no way around it. It was Ivaan. It couldn't have been anyone else. There was only one person that would have known about the shell, only one who would've remembered which summer she had gifted it.

Bee was moving before she realized it, rounding the pillar fully, moving with a desperate step. She closed the distance between them, gaining speed as she did, springing forward upon that last step. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for her as she extended her arms towards him, letting that last small leap carry her the rest of the distance towards him as she made to do the very thing his shock was keeping him from doing. "Ivaan..." It was the only warning she gave him as she leapt forward to embrace him, heedless of his armor which separated them from any real hug. She didn't care. She couldn't stop herself, carried by the desire to touch him, to make sure he was real, to close the gap both in distance and years with a tearful embrace. In the absence of words, only action remained.

<< Two || Four  >>

[pervasivescariness]

[ A Gathering of Threads]

Part Four: Scars and Regret

( @ivaan-ffxiv​ )

No sooner than she had sprung upon him, Ivaan's knees finally gave from under him. Metal scraped against stone as the two of them were taken to the ground. Plated arms wrapped about her tightly, not daring to let go, having to know she was there, solid, real. Not some phantasm brought about by whatever item was held in the deeper reaches of this cave... He would not put it past fate to be so cruel. But she did not vanish, or pass through him. She was there in his arms, tears splashing against his armor. Ivaan's armored head buried into the crook of her neck, his whole form rattling as he spoke. 

"H-How are... Oh, Bee..." Behind his metallic mask, tears of his own flowed freely, dampening the fabric lining the interior of the helm.

Bee clung to his armored form as tightly as she could, pressing her face to that cold metal without a care, tears flowing freely onto the metal surface. A few twists of hair were caught across her face, tangled up in the hug as she squeezed him tightly. She didn't dare readjust or pull away to move her hair from her face, afraid that if she moved even slightly, he'd simply disappear. Her heart was a raging sea of emotion; the swell of elation crashing into the waves of old despair that had been trudged up anew, everything flooding her at once, stealing her words from her. She could get no more than his name from her lips as she held him, body trembling as she wept in his arms. All these years spent thinking she had lost him for good, imagining life as it could have been had he lived...and here he was now. It was some time before the words returned to her, Bee content enough to just hold Ivaan tightly until her tears began to dry. 

When at last she could string together a coherent thought, she spoke, her voice quiet and muffled from where she pressed her face to him, still unwilling to move, "They told me you had died, Ivaan..."

Ivaan squeezed her tighter at her trembling, which shook them both. Her words summoned an odd sense of dread in the youth, perhaps knowing this was just the start of a very long, uncomfortable line of questioning. Entirely justified, of course, but a road he was not prepared to travel down so unexpectedly. 

"I very nearly did." Twice... But that would come later. "I imagine the letter you received was penned not long after my parents... after the sickness took them. I was on death's doorstep. They probably thought that I would be long gone by the time the letter reached you all..." He sniffed loudly within his helm, gathering himself, when a sudden thought leapt from him. "What about your mother, your father? Your sisters, are they still alive too?!"

The first pang of anger prickled through Bee at this. How dare they send out a letter like that until they knew for sure? Such an errant action had caused so much distress in not only her but her parents and aunt as well. She remembered the gloom which hung over the house, the deep hurt that wracked her body for weeks thereafter; the tears which stole her voice entirely...All those years spent thinking he was lost to them. The soft fingers of guilt brushed her then;  if she had known he were alive, she could have come for him...could have brought him home with her. These emotions began swirling around in her chest as well as her mind began to ask other questions. That prickle of anger became sharper...and was immediately halted by his questions. 

She drew in a slow breath, trying to calm her heart and regain some composure, turning her face ever so slightly so that she might speak easier, "They're all fine, they're fine. Mother, Father, Ada and Nihme both..." But not Aunt Zovi... she thought suddenly, a sharp stab of guilt adding to her burdened heart. She chased it away with a happier thought, "...and there's now Pari and Meru too...oh Ivaan it's been nearly a decade! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about your parents-" 

Bee paused, frowning slightly, her mind returning to her previous train of questions. Quite suddenly she pushed away from him, a furious slant to her brow as she held him at arm's length, staring into that faceless helm of his, the heat of anger beginning to boil through her chest. "How come you never told us you were alive?" she demanded of him, ears flat to her head now, a few wayward curls still pulled across her face haphazardly.

Even through the plates that encased him, Ivaan's relief was readily felt as the tension in his spine eased out with a sigh. Good, good... Bee had been spared the heartbreak he had endured twice over. It also explained why they never came for him, as he spent the years in the orphanage, waiting to grow up. His relief was interrupted as she pushed him away, Bee biting into every syllable of her words. Just like she always had when she got mad... It really was her... The question could not be ignored, however, even though he suddenly felt a wave of dread, and guilt, crush over him. 

"I..." He looked away, unable to bear her accusing, hurt gaze. "The first couple of years, I could not bring myself to do much of anything... I ate, I did my chores, sat outside with the other kids, and slept. I was in shock." He shook his head, lowering it as he continued. His eyes closed behind the sightless visor, an attempt to shield himself from her gaze, that he might focus enough to gather these most unpleasant of thoughts. "I could not accept what happened. Not for a long time... A year, at least. With time, and help, I started to work through it. Gain some sort of  grip on it all. That was when I had written, from the orphanage. But each time, the letters returned to me... With things getting as dangerous as they were, the mail was not able to get through. So I bided my time... Waiting to get big enough to leave, to find you. But things got worse, and worse... Eventually, the older kids that I had grown close to... My second family, in truth... They had decided to join the Wood Wailers upon coming of age. They were all I had left. We were all each other had left. So I faked my age, and joined with them, so we could stay together. We would protect our forest, and each other, make things better... Then things would go back to normal. I could write to you whenever I wanted, let you all know how I was doing, how much I had grown up."

Slowly, his head raised, turning to meet her gaze once more. "Then the Calamity came. The things I heard through the grapevine from traveling adventurers from abroad were bad enough. Sahagin acting up, the Imperials shooting down civilian airships, building bases in La Noscea... I had been worried enough for you all. But after Dalamud dropped... I was positive you were all dead. You had to be. They say Bahamut flew right over Limsa Lominsa. I saw the corrupted crystal formations scattered across the region with my own eyes. I did not dare seek out your village. I was terrified of what I might find if I did." By then, his body had begun to shake anew in her hands as she held him by the shoulders at arms length. "I-I am so sorry, Bee..."

As she listened to him, that fury upon her brow began to soften, the line of anger becoming one of concern. Her fingers clutched his shoulders as she kept him from her at arm's length, body rigid as she took in this new information. Hearing it all, that self righteous anger she had felt bubbling in her heart soon faded, the raging sea calming with the heavy waves of guilt for her silent accusations. It wasn't that he didn't care, that he didn't wish to see them again. Fate had kept them well apart, it seemed, through tragedy and circumstance...If he were to blame, then so too was she. What had become of her plans before Dalamud had come down? That final farewell she had told herself she had to put aside until her work was done...but that was just an excuse, wasn't it? The fact that she feared an absolute end had kept her away. Just as he had not been able to face their potential loss, she had not been able to face the finality in his death. Because there was some part of her, some quiet little hope, that maybe they had been wrong.

She had been unconsciously following a thread through a deep, dark ocean ever since.

At last she bowed her head, closing her eyes as fresh tears began to slip down her cheek. Her fingers relaxed upon his shoulder, no longer gripping him tightly as the curls slipped from where they had caught on her nose to dangle in front of her face. "No...Ivaan. I'm sorry too. Anyone would have thought the same."  She frowned again slightly, her mind drifting back to that frightful night, "We couldn't have left, even if we had known you were alive...The village needed them, my parents...my aunt...me, to an extent. All hands on deck, as my father says." 

The tiniest of smirks pulled at the corner of her lip as she thought of her father's tendency to speak as a sailor first in all things, "We all played our part to keep everything intact and...to an extent we succeeded, Ivaan. A good portion of the village was in ruins but most everyone...most everyone was alright." She sniffled, giving a bit of a teary laugh which sounded far more bitter than joyous. "I...I could have gone then. Once things were quiet...I could have gone and maybe we might've-"

Bee stopped, at last looking up at him, staring into that featureless helm once more, her thoughts pulled elsewhere. Through all of this he had not once made to remove that eyeless thing, confessing this all from behind a mask as though he were hiding from her. There was a peculiar sort of distance created by it, as though she were merely speaking with a suit of armor. It made her feel strange, gave the whole thing a dreamlike feel and she had to know she wasn't dreaming. Even though she was touching him, there was that biting doubt at the back of her mind. What if this was a cruel trick? She tilted her head slightly, blinking through the few tears which still clouded her eyes. 

"Ivaan." she sighed, "Can you take that off? Please. I can' t keep talking to a helmet." Bee looked at him earnestly, pleadingly, "I want to see my friend."

Any feelings of relief that came with the quenching of her fury, of her assurances that the village was largely intact, vanished with her request that he doff his helm. The same distance she found so unnerving, he found comforting, making all of this easier. Like dipping one's toes into a pond before jumping in. 

"You will not like what you see." The warning Ivaan stated was as cold as the steel which guarded his scarred face.

The sudden edge to his voice, that flat warning...it sent an abrupt shimmer of doubt through her...one she quickly pushed away. Bee frowned, the glint of familiar determination sparkling behind the remaining tears. In those moments she was certain that nothing he revealed to her could be worse than looking at that dispassionate, faceless helm of his. Perhaps he had a scar or two? Many adventurers did, this was the way of things; scars never bothered her. Perhaps then there was something else wrong? That maybe he grew awkwardly, that pleasant smiling face not quite retaining the charm it had once boasted. It wouldn't matter to her, looks never did; she just needed to see him in the flesh, to know that it was truly him under there. Her mind could not conjure up a single reason why his warning should be heeded. 

Bee replied quietly, "I don't care. I want to see your face, Ivaan."

Ivaan said nothing more. He knew that look, even after a decade. There would be no arguing with her at this point, her mind was set. Besides, he would have to take it off eventually. It was not something he was looking forward to, however. His hands drew from her, coming along his jawline towards the back of the helm with practiced ease. Even with his sense of touch dulled behind the leather and metal of his gauntlets, the clasps and latches of the helm were easily found even in the less than optimal lighting of their lanterns and spells. The helm split in half, perpendicular to the plane of his face, and was lifted up and away from his head. The black hood that lay beneath was pulled back, revealing the same warm chestnut hues of his hair that she remembered, but longer and combed back. A quick swipe of his fingers on both of his cheeks whisked away the tears remaining from the initial shock of their reunion, and he lowered the doffed helm away. The round, boyish face she had known was gone. The years, and the trials that they had brought, had sharpened his features like a whetstone to steel... Even in the warm light, he looked gaunt, hardened... tired. His jawline was cut, angular, terminating in a pronounced chin that sported a short tuft of a beard. Above, his lips drew thin, pursed with strain of this moment he so dreaded. It grew worse, the longer the eye dwelled.

On either cheek, a darkened slash of scar tissue, widest from the jawline and growing thinner as it trailed up his face... Pointing straight towards the trough carved diagonally across most of his face, over the bridge of his nose, and up into his forehead. It looked like somebody had taken a spoon and carved it into his flesh, like one would into a pudding. A jagged canyon across his face. The wound had pulled the skin of his brow downward as it had healed, permanently furrowing his brow... Which only made it worse when he finally opened his eyes. The warmth of his golden hues had been honed into something sharp... Their opening was now akin to somebody drawing a knife as he met her gaze. He said nothing... merely waited. Waited for the horror that was about to mar his dearest friend's face at the shock of whom he had become.

<< Three || Five >>