#Hikmat Shah

[gray-morality]

Utsāha 2023.07.13

Fakhri had lived in Thavnair for eight decades, granted he left for a number of years before returning to this land he called home. While his roots were still way up in the mountains of the Skatay Range, remaining at one place for so long meant he could claim being of its people, as surely as one born on this island. And perhaps because he’d been an outsider once, he ended up developing a fierce protectiveness for this nation that had welcomed him. Thus when he met the Sahib Hikmat Shah upon the End of Days, subsequently joining Jijivisha and becoming its ‘man on the ground’, it cemented that idea that he was there to watch over the people of this land. Which is why their earlier encounter with a certain trio - one Au ri man and two Midlander women - at the docks of Yedlihmad left a sour taste in his mouth. They had been nothing of importance at first, just a bunch of stowaways, perhaps, freshly arrived in Thavnair and seemingly in search of work. The way this group had approached them, however, had been peculiar, to say the least. Claiming they had spied on them and had discovered Seda was in charge, while Fakhri was likely her hired muscle. This alone was laughable and made it clear their ‘research’ was nothing but empty words. A simple stroll to check on a recent shipment had turned into a farce as the group continued on, stating what they could do in exchange of coins, none of which appealed to Seda. Jijivisha was indeed not in need of enforcers, as it already had its own people proficient in combat, if ever needed. It was clear to both Fakhri and Seda that those three suspicious characters were trying to gain the upper hand by striking a deal on their own terms. And this wasn’t going to happen. Every inquisitive question was being turned around and, after over a bell of needless talking, it became obvious they’d never see eye to eye; Those people definitely were not here to help the citizens of Thavnair. And then the man of the group had the audacity… "Near as I can tell, they need to buck up. It's a pretty enough place and in a way reminds me of home..but the people are soft. Lucky they survived at all.”

Had Fakhri been the type to punch someone in the face on impulse, that Au ra would have lost a few teeth. This whole encounter would easily have been brushed away at the end of the day, had it not been for that one sentence. How dare he belittle the people of a land who had suffered, first in line, to the greatest ordeal this star had ever faced! The jungle had burned, villages were destroyed, the people had to face their loved ones as they were transformed into beasts! Yet, despite all of this… the citizens of Thavnair lived on. They endured, they persevered, showing a strength and resilience that humbled the man that Fakhri was. His mind went to those who had lost a mother or a father, a sister or a brother, a son or a daughter, or were the last one standing, having lost them all. And what of this woman, who had lost her children and grandchildren. She knew that, at the end of her life, so would her family line end with no one to carry her name into the future. Yet she decided to live, so she could help rebuild their nation. She was old, but still had her health, and so she could cook and mend clothes for those working from sunrise to sundown.

Thavnairians have a word for this resilience, this ‘energy’ and desire to live; Utsāha. It came from a place of spirituality, to rouse within oneself a sentiment of heroism, happiness and determination. Some would call it zeal or simply enthusiasm but that always felt overly reductive to this Viera. And perhaps the reason why this resonated so much with him was that Fakhri was, after all, a survivor. He never met any of his kin outside their jungle or mountain that had lived for as long as him. With a lifespan fivefold as most of the races on the star, it would be easy to imagine the pain and sadness one could accumulate over the years as friends and loved ones reached the end of their lives, leaving the Viera behind. And Fakhri had faced his fair share of hardships in his long life and lost many dear to him, enough to make anyone question why he was still standing. Maybe it was Utsāha, or something very similar, passed down from the beliefs of his tribe; to live, to pass on one’s knowledge and experience and to honor the spirits of nature and one’s ancestors.

When Fakhri would breathe his last it won’t be by his own hand, but merely because his time has come. Until then, he would live - and love - persevering in the face of adversity; Just like Thavnair and its people.

[catscratching]

The Death of Dreams

2022.06.28

[ This wasn't the story I set out to write, when I took the screenshots. It's changed a few times over the past month, but it will be interesting development as it progresses. At least, I hope so. ]

“If you’ll sign here, Mistress, I’ll be on my way.”

Seda squinted dubiously at the sturdy crate at her feet; the messenger had struggled to bring it inside, and she had directed it to the office.  It wasn’t overly large, but it was apparently heavy, and she had no idea what it contained.

Scrawling her signature on the appropriate paperwork, she examined the lading bills again as the courier left.  It was definitely addressed to her – in an unfamiliar hand. 

“Salaah?”  The office door opened, and one of the new staff poked his head in.  They were slow to grow comfortable calling her Seda, and oft used her more formal title within the organization.  “Do you have a moment?  Nafiwaa needs to go over the grocery orders for the week.”

“Of course, Malfud,”  She replied with a smile, pulling her hair back from her face and twisting it into a rough knot.  “I’ll be right there.”

She put the mysterious crate out of her mind as she stabbed the bun with a wooden hairpin.  Nafiwaa had taken over the kitchens – much to the relief of everyone – and ruled them like a queen.  She didn’t know the woman’s story; most of the newly hired staff had been reticent to speak of their pasts – but it was obvious she had experience in cooking for a crowd. 

If she learned nothing else from her time in Limsa, she knew that the quickest way to make yourself miserable was to annoy the people you paid to cook and clean. 

So the chest sat for several days as they developed a working routine; preparing meals for the people that needed to be fed, cleaning, organizing and running the various business interests that ostensibly funded their efforts. 

Seda didn’t think of it again until she went looking for an accounting ledger that had slipped between the crate and the wall.  Staring at the label nailed to the wood, her brow furrowed.  The sender was as mysterious now as they had been when the parcel first arrived.

It took more effort than she expected to lever the top of the crate off; someone had gone to a great deal of effort to secure what appeared to be angular packages wrapped in oilskins and packed in a thick bed of straw.

“This is a great deal of effort for… books?”  The waterproof canvas flipped away from the top easily enough, releasing the familiar smell of leather and paper and ink – and revealing a thick envelope on the top with her name scribed in the same hand as the lading bills.

She sat on a nearby crate, picking up the envelope and breaking the wax seal with her thumb, humming under her breath as a second, smaller envelope fluttered into her lap.

Seda –

Forgive both the tardiness and familiarity of this package; I am a long-time friend of your parents, and have been assisting Bocquet with some personal matters.  I located the enclosed items in a recess of the attic – we did not examine the contents; Bocquet did not recognize them, and the note was in your mother’s hand.

Anisai Sevin Gridania

She was abruptly glad she was seated; with the recent visit to the Shroud, she was certain Bocquet would have mentioned any such cache of items if they had known of their existence.  And she did have vague memories of moving her mother’s belongings to the attic in those dark days after her death.

The second envelope was thin, her name scrawled in familiar handwriting on the exterior, the wax brittle with age.  Trembling fingers traced the outlines of her name as her vision blurred.  She hadn’t given much thought to her mother’s writing; Silana wasn’t much for writing letters or notes, so it had never occurred to Seda to look for journals or grimoires.

Sedani, my most darling girl –

I have run out of time, and there is much you need to know.  I had hoped to tell you these things myself, but events have unfolded more swiftly than any of us could have expected.

A blot of ink separated the sentences, with several little dots around it as though the author paused to gather her thoughts.

I had hoped to see you grown, to tell you these things myself, to explain.  I can only hope you will understand and forgive my choices.   Bocquet was a refuge; camouflage and safety, for all that I came to love them.  But you, my precious kitten, are my legacy. 

-Mama

It took time, to process what she had; to think about how she wanted to approach it.  The books were neatly stacked but hadn’t been sorted by date or contents; that would be the first thing she needed to deal with.  The alchemical texts and notes from her mother’s student days went into one pile, her hand-written notes and commentary in a second, then the journals and packets of letters and other papers into a third.

At the very bottom of the chest was a loosely wrapped parcel of linen, revealed to be an elegant gown in white and gold, thirty years out of fashion.  The moment she opened it, the scent of lavender and verbena puffed off the fabric like a ghostly caress from Silana’s wardrobe. 

Closing her eyes and pulling the mass of silk and gold thread into her lap, Seda lost herself in memories – of playing with her mother’s clothing when she was small, feeling elegant and beautiful, even though she knew she was a clumsier, more awkward version.  Those days had been full of laughter and light, Silana leaving her studies to spend time with her daughter in games of make-believe, with Bocquet joining them as their duties allowed.

The tears came, finally – as she cried the child’s grief two decades late, mourning both the physical loss of the woman that bore her as much as the death of all the suppositions and fantasies she had woven over the years about who that woman was.  For even though the chest could bring answers to questions she’d had all her life, those self-same answers would destroy the idealized version of Silana that lived in her heart. 

Something tugged at the bond she shared with Fakhri; something harsh and ugly and – Her eyes snapped open, wide.   What lie between them didn’t convey thoughts or emotions clearly; most of the time she just got an impression of support and warmth.  She’d always thought it a fancy in her head, that she had listened to too many love ballads and imagined it as a manifestation of their love for one another. 

But in that moment, she knew something was wrong.  Very wrong - he needed help.  She burst from the workroom and nearly collided with one of the staff, the young woman’s eyes wide with surprise, her hand lifted to knock.

“Ahh… Salaah?  The Sahib, he asked me to ask you to prepare the infirmary.” 

Her stomach clenched with fear, but she kept her face serene as she nodded crisply, her sandals slapping against the stone floor as her haste belied her calm exterior.  Hikmat would save him.  Oh gods, please let him be in time. [Continued]

@gray-morality

[mathswarriors]

DATED: *05-SEP-2019* *From 0001 hrs to 2359 hrs* *SUMMARY* *CRIME AGAINST PERSON* *KILLED/INJURED* KILLED :01 INJURED :01 *Total Accused Arrested= 50* *UNDER ARMS ACT* Accused arrested = 09 Pistols recovered = 09 *UNDER NARCOTICS ACT* Accused arrested = 10 Chars recovered = 4,345 Wine = 04 bottles *KILLED* *1.GULSHANE MAYMAR-PS* Nisar Ahmed s/o Hikmat Shah age 40 yrs, *INJURED* *1.SHARA-E-FAISAL-PS* Saeed Khan s/o Shakeel age 32 yrs *OTHER INCIDENT* *1.PAKISTAN BAZAR-PS* Muzaffar Ali s/o Muhammad Ali age 57yrs, died by electric shock at Sector 15-B Bangala Bazar near Al Habib Masjid. *2.SHAH LATIF-PS* 3/4 days old, unidentified dead body age 35/40yrs, found under railway bridge. Cause of death will be ascertained after postmortem. *3.AWAMI COLONY-PS* Shazia w/o Shahroz age 22 yrs, committed suicide by hanging herself at house no.C-56 korangi.Cause of death will be clear after postmortem. *POLICE PERFORMANCE* *1.MEMON GOTH-PS* Police arrested 19 suspect during Combing operation u/s 54 CRPC. *2.BAGHDADI-PS* Police arrested three accused namely, 1.Shaukat 2. Sohail 3. Mujeeb ur Rehman and two TT Pistols, two M/Cycle and huge qty of Gutka recovered from them. *3.SOHRAB GOTH-PS* Police arrested an accused and recovered one TT pistol from his possession. *in addition* Police arrested three Chalia dealers and recovered huge quantity of Chalia from them. *4.GULSHAN-E-IQBAL-PS* Police arrested two accused namely, 1. Kashif s/o Aslam 2. Saleem s/o Jameel and recovered two TT pistols with 5 rounds, three M/Phone and 3 wallet from them. *5.MEMON GOTH-PS* Police recovered 12,040 Liter Crude oil diesel from Link Road Malir and accused arrested namely, Inayat Mari s/o Mitha Khan and others fled away from the spot.FIR No. 180/19 u/s 285/286/379/380/420 *6.TAIMURIA-PS* Police arrested seven accused namely, 1. Yousuf @ Amir 2. Anis 3. Adnan arrested and recovered 3 pistols with 7 rounds. 4. Jameel 5. Kaeem and recovered 165 grm chars 6. Nsair 7. Ibrahim and recovered one pistol and stolen motorcycle from them. *7.IBRAHIM HAIDRY-PS* Police arrested two bike lifters and recovered 110grm Chars and stolen motorcycle from their possessions https://www.instagram.com/p/B2CsqjkHM5y/?igshid=17pcg3dgo3ww5

[besturdubooks-blog]

Shah Waliullah aur unka Falsafa By Maulana Ubaidullah Sindhi شاہ ولی اللہ اور ان کا فلسفہ Read Online Download (3MB) Link 1      Link 2

[ismailignosis]

"Soon after the founder of Islam, Prophet Mohammed died, issue concerning the religious and secular leadership of the Muslim community arose. By and large, the Sunni Muslims maintained that after Prophet Mohammed's death each Muslim was left to interpret and practice his faith according to his understanding although every mosque has its own Imam to lead the prayers. The Shia Muslims, on the other hand, believe that the successor to the leadership of the Muslim community both in spiritual and temporal matters was the Prophet's cousin and son-in-law, Ali, and that this leadership was to continue thereafter by heredity through Ali in the Prophet's family.... The nature of the religious office which I hold neither requires nor is expected by the members of my community, to be an institution whose existence is restricted to spiritual leadership. On the contrary, history and the correct interpretation of the Imamat require that the Imam, while caring first of all for the spiritual well-being of his people, should also be continuously concerned with their safety and their material progress." - Imam Shah Karim al-Husayni Aga Khan
His Highness the Aga Khan's Speech to the Swiss-American Chamber of Commerce, Zurich, Switzerland - January 14, 1976
Extracts Published in Hikmat, January 1984, Volume II, No 3 and IsmailiMail #Ismaili #Ismailism #AgaKhan #AhlAlBayt #ProudIsmaili #HazarImam #OneJamat #DiamondJubilee #CanadaCelebratesDJ #ProudToBeACanadianIsmaili #JACanada #JubileeArts 
 Please visit www.ismailignosis.com or ask.ismailignosis.com or visit our Facebook page www.facebook.com/IsmailiGnosis for more gems about Mawlana Hazar Imam, the Imamat, and Ismaili history and philosophy.

[pakistantalkshow]

Shahbaz Sharif Ki Hikmat e Amli Apko Nawaz Sharif Ki Hikmat e Amli Say Mukhtalif Dikhay Deti Hai -Shah Mahmood

Shahbaz Sharif Ki Hikmat e Amli Apko Nawaz Sharif Ki Hikmat e Amli Say Mukhtalif Dikhay Deti Hai -Shah Mahmood

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[naivelocus]

Mutational landscape of metastatic cancer revealed from prospective clinical sequencing of 10,000 patients

Nature Medicine 23, 703 (2017). doi:10.1038/nm.4333

Authors: Ahmet Zehir, Ryma Benayed, Ronak H Shah, Aijazuddin Syed, Sumit Middha, Hyunjae R Kim, Preethi Srinivasan, Jianjiong Gao, Debyani Chakravarty, Sean M Devlin, Matthew D Hellmann, David A Barron, Alison M Schram, Meera Hameed, Snjezana Dogan, Dara S Ross, Jaclyn F Hechtman, Deborah F DeLair, JinJuan Yao, Diana L Mandelker, Donavan T Cheng, Raghu Chandramohan, Abhinita S Mohanty, Ryan N Ptashkin, Gowtham Jayakumaran, Meera Prasad, Mustafa H Syed, Anoop Balakrishnan Rema, Zhen Y Liu, Khedoudja Nafa, Laetitia Borsu, Justyna Sadowska, Jacklyn Casanova, Ruben Bacares, Iwona J Kiecka, Anna Razumova, Julie B Son, Lisa Stewart, Tessara Baldi, Kerry A Mullaney, Hikmat Al-Ahmadie, Efsevia Vakiani, Adam A Abeshouse, Alexander V Penson, Philip Jonsson, Niedzica Camacho, Matthew T Chang, Helen H Won, Benjamin E Gross, Ritika Kundra, Zachary J Heins, Hsiao-Wei Chen, Sarah Phillips, Hongxin Zhang, Jiaojiao Wang, Angelica Ochoa, Jonathan Wills, Michael Eubank, Stacy B Thomas, Stuart M Gardos, Dalicia N Reales, Jesse Galle, Robert Durany, Roy Cambria, Wassim Abida, Andrea Cercek, Darren R Feldman, Mrinal M Gounder, A Ari Hakimi, James J Harding, Gopa Iyer, Yelena Y Janjigian, Emmet J Jordan, Ciara M Kelly, Maeve A Lowery, Luc G T Morris, Antonio M Omuro, Nitya Raj, Pedram Razavi, Alexander N Shoushtari, Neerav Shukla, Tara E Soumerai, Anna M Varghese, Rona Yaeger, Jonathan Coleman, Bernard Bochner, Gregory J Riely, Leonard B Saltz, Howard I Scher, Paul J Sabbatini, Mark E Robson, David S Klimstra, Barry S Taylor, Jose Baselga, Nikolaus Schultz, David M Hyman, Maria E Arcila, David B Solit, Marc Ladanyi & Michael F Berger

— Nature Medicine - Issue - nature.com science feeds

[gray-morality]

Tagged: Altitis Edition

@thefreelanceangel

Favorite | Fakhri Man'tik Obviously I'm biased because he's the one I currently main. But I do believe that, with every new character, I learn something or 'get better' (even if I have 25+ years of RP experience) and Fakhri is something very new for me to RP. His personality alone but also his overall view on life and how he went through it. He's definitely the one that allows me the most freedom, not even being afraid of the ridicule, which can play a big part. He's also provocative, inciting reactions from others or dragging them into a scene.

Oldest | Katsuro Wakahisa Katsuro was 'born' in The Secret World back in 2015 and I brought him with me in other games, FFXIV being the latest and possibly where his story ends? Who knows! He's more typical yakuza archetype and very hard to RP because he lacks empathy and fucks to give. He also is very reserved and extremely disciplined, which makes it hard to introduce him into new situations or places.

Newest | Fakhri Man'tik If that wasn't obvious by now :p

Meanest | Katsuro Wakahisa I mean, can you do meaner than an assassin and serial killer with a lack of empathy... Not that he doesn't have his good side but you have to find it, or let him drop his guard, which frankly rarely happens. He's painfully direct and doesn't care how people feel or what they think about him. To be honest, Fakhri can also be painfully direct and not give a shit... but he's far less stoic and his overall attitude is more prone to make him look like an ass. Guess that balance it all a bit.

Softest | Yuu Fujimoto He's my irezumi master, and he's a big dork. Oh he sure can fight, having trained under Doman monks all his childhood, but then he went on an apprenticeship to become a tattoo master and managed to make a living out of his passion and really, he never loved to fight. He sings like a battery of casseroles someone dropped on the floor but his energy at karaoke is infectious, as well as his smile.

Most Aloof/Standoffish | Dr. Thanos [Lux] Caius Despite caring about people's wellbeing in general, he's an intellectual and will prefer his books instead of talking to people. If you say something stupid, you can bet he's looking at you with a judgmental gaze. He has very little tolerance for stupidity, verrryyy little.

Dumbest (Affectionate) | Luula [GW2] I rarely make dumb characters unless they're disposable NPCs. Luula was an exception. She was Asura in GW2. For those who know the game, I can hear you say "But aren't they the most intelligent and advanced of the races?" Well yes, but you see Luula's mother had an accident when her daughter was but a baby still in her belly and... poor Luula was born with some... problems. This obviously resulted with her being shunned from the Asura society and ending up as a ranger (she has a big bear) travelling the world. People really loved her, she was cute and silly.

Dumbest (Derogatory) | Ren Yasui He was essentially a NPC and your typical muscles without a brain archetype. He didn't have a presence in game, as I never made the character, but instead was featured in a few short stories all part of The Cursed Hand narrative. a campaign that stretched over 2 years.

Smartest | Dr. Thanos [Lux] Caius I guess this makes him somewhat hard to RP because I definitely don't have his intellect XD nor his immense knowledge in medicine.

Horniest | Fakhri Man'tik Most of my characters being NPCs, their level of horniness is simply inexistent. As for those I did/do roleplay, I'd say their libido is quite mild. Katsuro is possibly the worse, since he's demi-sexual, his sexual drive linked to actually loving the person. My 'leader' characters [Ujitoshi Hagane and Hikmat Shah] are both asexual. Other characters are old and not interested in that anymore [Sun Hyeon] and some, while not asexual, are either no longer interested or never truly were that much [Dr. Caius who prefers knowledge to people and Yuu who had a wife, with whom he had a daughter, they got divorced and now he's early 50s with a teenager, working his dream job and content in life.] Which leaves us with Fakhri, who's just your normal guy, really. He enjoys sex as much as the guy next door but can go without for long periods as well. So he isn't a horny machine, just a very normal man.

Character You'd Bang | Fakhri Man'tik Mainly because he's a very respectful and caring lover. He doesn't have a type, doesn't have any expectations and won't shame anyone for being clumsy or inexperienced.

Character You'd Be RL Besties With | Yuu Fujimoto As tempted I am to say Fakhri, he may be too 'loud' and disruptive on occasions for me irl. Yuu, on the other hand, is calm yet knows how to have fun. He's also an artist, which I can relate to. So we'd totally be showing each other our new drawings and whatnot. He's also hard working and respectful, but won't let others step over him either.

Tagging: whoever wants to do it I guess xD

[gray-morality]

Warrior-Saint 2022.06.12

“ENOUGH!” 

As the end of the khakkhara hit the ground, a low rumble was felt through the earth itself, sending pebbles dancing on the road as if a hoard of hippo was running nearby. The local vigilantes stepped aside, looking at the imposing man who’d ordered them with a thundering voice. But as soon as the crowd stepped away, the man’s aura shifted, reminiscent of a calm and undisturbed pool of clear water. For only sound was the rhythmic jangle of metal rings atop his staff as he made his way to the cornered figure, teeth-baring like a wild animal. “I'm here, my friend. I’ll make the pain go away.” His voice was now soft and deep, soothing. He lifted a hand towards the figure before him as one would to appease a beast, slowly stepping closer and closer, until he could place his hand on the other’s brow, letting his fingers comb the locks of gray hair. “Those emotions are not yours, let them go. It’s alright.” The figure before him staggered, gray eyes closing and ears flopping backwards, before his form toppled forward into the other’s arms. “Let’s go home, Fakhri.” The man murmured as he let go of his staff to carry the viera in his arms. The khakkhara didn't fall, however, for a small rock golem grabbed it and dutifully carried it for its master as they left the murmurs of the crowd behind. 

Calm and serenity. The metallic scent of blood was but a distant memory, somehow. Though he had flashbacks - his hands coated in red, that knife on the ground similarly tinted red - but the feeling of rage and pain never lingered. Something - or someone - was pushing it away, relentlessly. Whenever he could feel those emotions swelling in his heart, a wave of warmth and peace came to wash them away. He drifted between dreams and wakefulness, never truly able to open his eyes. Tired, so tired… “He’ll be fine, but you can stay by his side if you wish. Your presence can help speed his recovery. I’m afraid, however, that I can afford the two of you very little privacy for the time being, as I need to remain here until his condition improves. Whoever he crossed on the street recently proved to have such resentment and rage that they were able to break through Fakhri’s defenses. Or at the very least, be the one drop too many. How long has it been since he took time away from the city?... I see. Then I’ll ask a favor of you, dear. Take him away from here once he’s recovered enough. A few suns, even a sennight.” The voices seemed distant and muffled, drowned by the soft melody of the nearby artificial waterfall and the pond in which it poured itself. His head, however, had cleared since - when was it? He’d lost track of time - and he recognized the voice of the Sahib. Who was he talking to? He didn’t need to hear her to know she was here; his beloved. Unconsciously, he tugged at their shared link, wanting her near. “Arak is already watching over him but… I believe he needs you besides him now. Oh, and… Don’t worry about keeping it a secret from him; he knows what he has done. Like he has done in the past. I can distance him from the emotions that are not his, but I can’t erase the memories. Those he’ll have to overcome by himself, and with your help.” Did the Sahib know? He wasn’t an empath, as far as he could tell. So how could he know… how could he do all of THIS? Before his thoughts could begin to spiral out of control, he felt a tiny tongue licking his forehead; Arak. What would I do without you, buddy? The rodent shifted his position, burrowing at the crook of his neck and, instead of tiny licks, it’s a hand caressing his cheek that he felt next. He didn’t need to see to know who was there beside him. As another wave of peace washed over him, Fakhri let sleep drag him back into its embrace.

[gray-morality]

In service of the King 2022.02.04 There was a place - well maybe two - that this old viera would call his homeland aside the forests of his youth. One was Dalmasca and what was once a bustling city full of life and excitement. He had to wonder sometimes if something new would ever rise from the rubbles of Rabanastre. If so, probably not in what remained of his already too long lifetime. The second place was Thavnair, especially Radz-at-han, with its brightly colored silk and the wonders of its alchemy. But why, oh why, by the friggin’ Seven Hells, had he decided to come back to the latter just as the sky turned the color of blood and everyone became monsters, some more figuratively than others. The malaise he had felt back in Eorzea was not mere coincidence apparently, for it was tenfold stronger here; just his fucking rotten luck. Little did he know that his visceral compulsion to survive was exactly what was keeping him just at the edge of that pit of despair. But for a man who had been struggling for the past century, that pit was oh so tempting… It was impossible to get a boat to leave the island, as everyone was busy screaming and panicking, and using the aetheryte would prove too dangerous in the viera’s current state of mind. Thus he was stuck here, FEELING it all. Their shattered dreams and hopes, their fear, their pain. It all seeped into his own mind, into his very heart, and all the alcohol he could grab was of little help, never enough to numb his senses. When inevitably the smoky tendrils twisted and rose from his own arms, he knew it was the end of his long life. And what had he accomplished? Would he even be remembered in a good way? Heck he’d take a bad way if that’s all there was left. He was alone, wasn’t he? . . .

So utterly alone…

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“That pain isn’t your own to bear, or am I mistaken?” That voice was deep and full of confidence. A hand was set upon his brow, warmth radiating from it, dissipating the fog that had surrounded his mind. When he could finally focus, he saw a man kneeling beside him. There was strength emanating from him, like the sun peeking through the clouds and chasing them away. Nevermind that he had the physique to go with it, likely able to break the viera in half with those- “... friggin’ massive arms.” “Pardon?” The other man lifted an eyebrow before an amused smile appeared on his lips. “I dare say, you are feeling a bit better. I’d even add that you’re regaining some colors but… well, I’m rather certain snow white is your default coloration. I won’t ask you if you can stand, but is your mind clear enough to speak? I’m Hikmat Shah by the way, a…wandering geomancer.” “Geomancer? Ya look as Far-Eastern as my ass.” The viera groaned as he at least tried to sit a bit more upright, his back against a colored wall. He cast a better look at the other man, who was obviously Thavnairian. The raven black hair, the shape of his visage and eyes and the copper of his skin, not to mention his choice of clothes. “Ain’t sure what ya did to me though but… thanks, I guess. Might be for nothin’ but eh, maybe I’ll last long enough for another bottle before the end.” He was tired and his body felt sluggish but he still managed a sneer. “I’m Fakhri. Also… have you seen my rat?” That question won him a smile from Hikmat. “You mean the one that’s poking its nose out of your coat?” “Arak! Come here, buddy. Fuck I’m sorry. I was ‘bout to abandon you.” Was he crying? Yep, that grown ass viera was crying about his rat as he gently picked him up and kissed the rodent on his tiny head and nose. “That’s quite a friend you have there. I think he’d stay by you until the end.” Hikmat looked at the touching reunion with some amusement. “If I may interject despite this emotional moment, I think I may be of some help to you, Fakhri. And… maybe you can be of help to me.” Fakhri stopped kissing his rat to look at the man before him. Pale gaze met with golden eyes; Hikmat didn’t flinch from that stare. It was strange, looking at him. He was as ‘golden’ as the viera was ‘silver’. Like the sun and the moon. “What ya said when ya found me… ‘The pain isn’t mine to bear’. That hit home a bit too much to be coincidence. But ya way too optimistic to be like me… Also wait a Godsdamned moment! Be of help to YOU? Should have known nothin’ ever free in this friggin’ world. Lemme guess, ya took that surname for yourself, eh?” The amused expression on Hikmat’s visage remained as he pushed himself up, grabbing with one hand a staff he’d previously laid on the ground beside him. “I merely spotted you a few suns ago, doing what I assume you do best: dazzle and mesmerize your audience and con them of their hard won gils. No need for this mistrusting glare, you’re not in any danger from me. I actually found your act to be quite remarkable and thus, led by curiosity, I followed you around the city. You nearly spotted me on many occasions! Really, I could use a man like you. I merely wish to right the wrongs done by the wealthy, open their eyes to the misery some of us have to live in, only to sustain their eccentric way of life. But why not talk in a more… appropriate place? If I’ve managed to gather your interest, that is?” Hikmat smiled at the old viera, who was still sitting on the ground. Fakhri didn’t know what to make of that man but, truly, did he have much to lose? “Alright. Ain’t much you can take from me regardless, mister ‘King of thieves’. Besides… ya helped me just now so the least I can do is lend ya an ear. How ya did that though. I mean, the mind clearing magik trick.” Hikmat grinned widely. “I’m a geomancer, I told you as much already.” Fakhri gave a very deadpan look at that reply. “That ain’t answering shit and ya know it.” “I know what your ass has to say about it, Fakhri. But that doesn’t change the fact. Come now, surely said ass would prefer

the caress of a plump cushion than the bite of hard stone.” Again with that amused look. “Oi! Ya don’t need to make it sound like a friggin’ erotica novel!” Hikmat let out a laugh and, despite everything, he had the viera in tow. With every step, the rings upon his golden staff jingled, a crystalline chime that seemed to keep the darkness at bay, like a beacon for the lost.

[gray-morality]

The full image!

[catscratching]

03.24.22

Seda made her way back from the Jijivisha warehouse, a spring in her step and sway in her tail. Successful negotiations were always a bit of a rush, and the friendly verbal ballet with Hikmat Shah left her fizzing on adrenaline. The leader of – what did they call themselves? A trading company? Troubleshooting group? She would need to clarify, it didn’t matter for now; what mattered was Hikmat had a presence.

She was sensitive to the emotions and moods of people around her, but it was a defense mechanism, borne of a need for awareness, for survival rather than innate talent (or curse, depending on your perspective). Hikmat projected calm. Seda wore authority like a cloak when she needed it, Hikmat just… was. It was part of him, as much as his hair or the golden sheen of his skin.

She liked him. She had immediately felt comfortable and at ease in a way she didn’t feel with people she had known most of her life. It was unsettling, and at the same time…

Her stomach rumbled, and she stopped in one of Radz-at-Han’s many neighborhood markets, following her nose until she found a sun-bronzed older lady selling pastries that smelled of almonds and honey and was deep fried into crisp, mouth-watering deliciousness.

Balancing a waxed paper cup of hot chai and an even hotter handful of briouat tucked into a twist of thick cardboard, she made her way back to the river, where she had talked with Fakhri - gods, was it only two nights previous? Tomorrow, she’d leave, and once her business with Vittore was over… back to Eorzea to await the signed contracts.

Sitting on a stone that seemed placed for the purpose, Seda kicked off her sandals and slid her feet into the pleasantly cool water, wriggling her toes at the minnows that swarmed to investigate the intrusion. Thavnair, like Ala Mhigo before it, was becoming a crossroad city, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to make a choice that would have a lasting impact on the rest of her life.

She didn’t want to trust Hikmat. He was just too good to be true, and she didn’t like feeling as good as she did in his presence. There was no romantic attraction; Seda had grown up without a father and never felt the lack (Bocquet had wisely not tried to be a masculine presence in her childhood), but Hikmat’s aura was very much what she imagined it must feel like; supportive, firm, but also resolute.

She sipped at her chai, thoughts of Hikmat naturally leading to the reason she was reluctant to leave back for the mainland. “I don’t want to fuck things up,” She confided to the fish, taking a bite of one of her snacks. The warm sweetness of honey combined with the crunch of fried, flaky pastry and the nutty smoothness of the orange-and-almond filling. “I don’t want to read into it, and see things that aren’t there.” She blew out a breath, scattering crumbs, to the delight of the fish. That had been her undoing, before; thinking it was love, rather than convenience.

Sorting through the tangle of her emotions and figuring out what she actually felt would take time. Time to know what lay between them, whether it was just companionship or the seed of something else, time to decide whether she should act… or let it lay fallow. She ate another briouat, and wished she could ask Fakhri’s cards what she should do. But even if she knew where he was, this was not a question she could put into words; not with him.

The air was cooling with the setting sun, and she got to her feet, scuffing them on the grass to dry before sliding them back into her sandals. Popping the last cookie into her mouth, she shook the crumbs into the water and headed back to her lodgings, still mulling. She was thinking of arms around her shoulders and warm breath in her hair as she opened the door, which was why she wasn’t prepared for the large man lounging lazily in the sole chair, his feet propped on the table.

Her papers were scattered, the bed was mussed, and her clothing had been clearly been rummaged through. It was a gross invasion of privacy, and a direct challenge to her authority. After a momentary pause, she regained her poise and closed the door behind her, moving to put her cup on the wash stand with deliberate, quiet motions.

“Do this again and we are done,” she said quietly, putting all of her emotional turmoil aside and drawing the mental mantle of her position around her shoulders. “We agreed I had complete autonomy.”

“Ahh, Seda, my favourite little bird,” Rucio Corcoran seemed to fill the room. He was big, even for a Highlander; his years of management didn’t seem to have softened the muscular frame, and his immaculately tailored clothing emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the strong lines of his physique. His face was weathered and lined with exposure to the weather, and a thick scar bisected his left eye, the iris a milky silver – a mismatch to the right, which was a very pale blue. Like Hikmat, he had an intense presence. But unlike the Sahib of Jijivisha, Corcoran had a predatory, dangerous air that always made Seda feel like he was about to pounce.

“I came to see how things were going,” He purred. “Surely you cannot blame me for that. Come, poulaki, sit and have some wine with me. You met with the Merchant today, yes? Tell me of his organization.”

Internally, she grit her teeth at the rude diminutive. But it was not the time to push. She just prayed she’d know the moments – all of them – when they arrived, and didn’t miss her opportunities.

@gray-morality