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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 4 years

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Yeah... it really is not ideal that they did that. I’m sure they didn’t mean to insinuate that victims of abuse should get back with their abusers at the first sign of improvement, because they’ve been really good about saying the opposite up until this point, but that IS the message they’re sending. The fact that very few fans seem to be acknowledging it is worse. I honestly thought we were better than that. This show has sent so many positive messages that are great for kids to hear, but this just isn’t one of them.

Tangent here, but I am deadly serious when I say that people are making the wrong parallels when they compare She-Ra to Revolutionary Girl Utena. She-Ra doesn’t deserve to make Utena references when it ends with the Anthy character (Adora) getting back with the Akio analogue (Catra).

In fact, the only thing people are sort of getting right with these comparisons is that Adora and Anthy, despite their surface-level distinctions, are very similar characters. Let’s take a look:

1. Incredibly powerful: Adora is a capable badass who also claims the mantle of She-Ra, and Anthy is basically a god (or the closest thing to)

2. Conned into believing they are worthless/powerless or their power isn’t really theirs to claim: Adora thinks all her value comes from being a hero and specifically being the weapon that is She-Ra, and she eventually has to learn that she is not a weapon or a tool and that her worth comes from within. She has to learn to find her power to win. Anthy is beaten down and essentially coerced into using her powers as “The Witch” to help Akio and participate in her own imprisonment. Utena doesn’t so much help her to recognize her power, but she makes Anthy remember that she has value and power separate from Akio and her role as Witch.

3. Had a loved one they tried to protect but couldn’t due to circumstances out of their control: Baby Adora could never have prevented Shadow Weaver from abusing Catra. 1) a literal child (who is also being abused) cannot be expected to stop an adult authority figure from doing anything, let alone abuse another child, and 2) literal children are NOT responsible for the actions of another child and certainly not the actions of an adult authority figure. But she gets blamed for not protecting Catra anyway. (Remember all the bullshit hot takes from around season 1 doing this very thing). Anthy tried to save Dios by hiding him (which failed), and she sacrificed herself to the Mob to save him (he died anyway). There was nothing she could have realistically done, even with all her power, to save him from the World. Akio blames her for it anyway and the Swords of Human Hatred back up his accusations.

3. Face a toxic combination of love and hatred from the person they were unable to protect: It’s pretty obvious that Catra’s roiling emotions about Adora are both positive and negative. The pain she felt when Adora defected is genuine. She really felt like she lost the one person that mattered to her (even though that isn’t true and it was her choice to stay with the Horde while Adora begged her to leave, making it Catra who actually left Adora when you stop to think about it). That love turned to resentment and hatred, driving Catra to torture Adora at every opportunity and blame Adora for her various wrongdoings. It’s not easy to discern entirely what Akio is angry about, but it can be reasonably assumed that he is angry with Anthy for “making him Not The Prince anymore” i.e. “Making Him This Way”. Anthy “stole him away from the princesses of the world”, which is the same kind of blame as “You broke the world, and it is all your fault!”

4. Have their struggles dismissed and/or misunderstood by people they call friends: If anyone matches up with Utena Tenjou in SPOP, it’s Glimmer. Glimmer is a girl who wants to be a prince Hero and a leader, but she doesn’t understand what those roles actually entail (see: all of season 4). She reacts when she sees the physical abuse Adora suffers from Shadow Weaver in the Black Garnet Chamber, just like Utena jumps to defend Anthy whenever she sees someone hit her. But Glimmer completely fails to either recognize or acknowledge the subtler aspects of Adora’s abuse, and she later dismisses her suspicion of Shadow Weaver as baseless paranoia, which she then proceeds to laugh about. Utena was naive and failed to notice the obvious signs of Anthy’s abuse by Akio right in front of her, but at least she didn’t do that.

5. Have to find and come into their power on their own: Sure, Adora manages to become She-Ra again to save Catra, but it’s still her decision and willpower that get her there. Utena helps Anthy to see that she can leave her situation and that she deserves a better life, but it’s Anthy who chooses to leave Akio behind and walk out of Ohtori alone.

Now let’s talk about Catra and Akio.

Catra and Akio aren’t 1 to 1 parallels. Catra does not appear to be a rapist and a child molester, for one thing. She doesn’t own a red convertible metaphor for the sins, horrors, and privileges of adulthood. She’s not a failed heroic archetype who languishes in a timeless, flowery coffin, convincing people to have sex with their siblings. Her name isn’t a fancy word for Satan.

But other than that, they’re pretty similar.

1. They share a connection with someone who is much more powerful than they are: Adora and Catra are pretty close in skill when they are in the Horde together, but Adora edges her out just slightly. And when Adora becomes She-Ra, her inherent power blows Catra out of the water. There could never be a fair fight between them because Adora is a woman-shaped WMD and Catra uses dirty tactics to win confrontations. Dios/Akio is at first portrayed as having all the power in Ohtori, but an attentive viewer will realize that’s nonsense and it’s really Anthy who has the power, a fact that becomes crystal clear when she ditches him easily at the end of the story.

2. They simultaneously love and hate that person: I don’t think I really have to explain this one. If you’ve watched both series, you will know exactly what I mean.

3. The relationship they have with this person is both familial and romantic: Look, I’m not going to be That Girl and try to claim that Adora and Catra’s relationship is purely a sisterly one. That is so clearly untrue even without season 5 that it’s laughable. But there are definitely familial elements to it. They were raised by the same woman and they treat each other like siblings do at several points in season 1. But it’s also clear that they have been harboring burgeoning romantic feelings for each other. Anthy and Dios are literally blood siblings who acted like siblings when they were kids, and then that relationship was twisted by Akio into this awful thing where they are “”””””lovers”””””””” (blegh) and siblings at the same time.

Catradora is not like that, before you attempt to tell me off. Like I said, Catra isn’t a rapist, and they aren’t blood-related so it’s not actual incest. But the underlying dynamic is the same.

4. They can’t stand the idea of that person living without them, and seek to imprison and torment them as a result: There are two main things that Catra wants for most of the show, 1) Adora with her or 2) Adora dead. She oscillates between these two desires but never progresses beyond them until her heel-turn in season 5. I’ve written about this before, but she’s the definition of the cliche “If I can’t have her, then no one can”. Akio is the same. On some level, he knows that Anthy is capable of leaving him at any time and he can’t stop her, so he tries to prevent that by abusing and manipulating her into thinking, 1) she can’t escape him and 2) it’s her fault that he’s like this so she should stay out of guilt. Both Catra and Akio also attempt to isolate Adora and Anthy by hurting their support structures (The Princesses and Utena).

5. They seek power and validation with no regard for the consequences: Catra was beaten and diminished for her entire childhood, and Shadow Weaver purposefully praised Adora over her to divide them. Until Adora left and she was subsequently recognized by Hordak, she had never received validation of her worth. So, she craves it and seeks it out by doing worse and worse things to please Hordak and Shadow Weaver. She thinks if she gains enough clout and a high enough rank in the Horde, then no one will be able to hurt her and everyone will recognize her value. She also associates proving herself with beating Adora. This drive for power ruins all of her relationships and leaves her at rock bottom rather than the top of the world. Akio longs for the power he thought he had as Dios (which was really Anthy’s power all along as we see when Utena opens the Rose Gate). He runs the duels and manipulates the duelists so they will achieve what he can’t and open the way for him to reclaim his divinity, leaving destruction in his wake.

The primary difference between them with this point is that evidence suggests that Akio self-sabotages all his attempts to regain power. And while Catra also sabotages herself at multiple points, it’s because she’s reckless and foolish, not because she’s deliberately making things harder for herself. Akio perpetuates a vicious cycle of trying and failing to return to godhood, and Catra perpetuates a cycle of seeking validation from the wrong place/people, inevitably failing to meet impossible standards, and falling right back to where she started.

6. They blame their special person for their own bad decisions: To be clear, Akio is MUCH worse about this than Catra, but they both do it. Again, this is a point I’m not sure I need to discuss much. If you’ve seen Utena’s last story arc and you’ve watched the portal universe episode, then you know exactly what I’m referring to.

I’m not sure how I can make this any more obvious. In the world of She-Ra, Adora is Anthy and Catra is Akio. If you’ve read this and you somehow disagree, stop living in denial. We are better than that.

Again, I’m very happy that Catra was redeemed. I think it should have started in season 4 but that’s beside the point. I’m so, so happy that she recognized her mistakes and joined the Rebellion. But they are really acting like it’s a good and reasonable thing for Adora to let Catra back into her life just because Catra is genuinely trying to improve herself for once. It’s not, or at least not the way they portrayed it. I could believe it if the two of them parted ways and then reunited years down the road, because then it would be easier to believe that Catra’s change for the better was permanent. But that’s not what we got. What we got was just a new problem that’s going to damage this wonderful show in the long run.

#she ra #spop #she ra and the princesses of power #anti catradora

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shardweavers · 4 years

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Chapter Fourteen - The Way Forwards

Shoto’s hands paused as she came to the end stages of folding her clothes for travel, her eyes drawn down towards the end of the bed where her big brown pack sat, already half-full…

It seemed impossible that it had only been this morning that the place was half-destroyed, scarred by combat like the war zones of Ala Mhigo. And yet it was spotless, now; everything restored to its proper place, not a sign of damage. She’d expected to have to go to the Crystalline Mean and recruit a whole team of people for repairs, but it seemed their local Ascian had had other ideas; he’d actually come to find her as she was heading there, and indicated that she should instead return to her quarters.

And so she had, and found them in this spotless condition! Shoto had wanted to thank Emet-Selch, but he’d sauntered off before she could speak a word, leaving her flummoxed--she’d taken up packing to occupy her scattered thoughts. He’d soon be back from wherever he’d been headed to, she reasoned; it was he who’d been insistent on joining the party, in the name of “keeping them out of trouble.” Ha! As though he wasn’t the cause of it!

She felt a brief flare of amusement, but it was rapidly chased away by recriminations that made her sigh, ceasing to fold the clothes and putting her chin against her fist. Everything that emotionally surrounded the Ascian was so Twelve-damned complicated.

It didn’t help that the idea of traveling with him brought up memories of the first time he’d accompanied them around Norvrandt--the odd intimacy she’d felt with him, even then, the closeness. The fury at his betrayal, a betrayal that hurt her so much more than it seemed to affect any of her friends and compatriots. And then, that moment, in the ashes of Amaurot at the bottom of the sea--

“Remember us. Remember that we once lived.”

Just thinking about it made tears come to her eyes, and she only half-understood why, even now.

Because I’m like her, like Azem…

...Every time she thought that, it felt like she was so close to a memory and yet so far, like she had a puzzle in her mind very nearly solved, but the last piece was missing and no amount of scrounging could find it. It was maddening.

Bah. Now’s not the time, the others will be waiting for me. She finished cramming everything into the pack and fastened it up, buckling the straps that held it shut tight, then hoisted it onto her back and headed out of the room. Just outside, Sumire was leaning against a railing; when the Dragoon saw her, his ears flicked to alertness, and heterochromatic eyes met hers.

Shoto had to admit, she was a little surprised. “Hey! Is it just you, or is Yuki about…?”

“She’s not,” Sumire sighed, and the intense regret in his voice, the lilt of sadness, only served to increase Shoto’s level of flummoxed-ness. If she had previously been at “the moogles of Ishgard want a diplomatic liaison to the Twelveswood,” she was now at “the moogles of Ishgard want a diplomatic liaison with Feo Uhl, and it has to be a kobold for some reason.”

The confusion showed on her face readily enough that Sumire practically leapt to attention, waving off her concern with both hands. “Er, that is to say, she’s not ready yet! She’s still getting ready! She went for a walk to clear her head, and refocus, after that business this morning, with the Ascian, and the fight, and such!”

Shoto was absolutely certain that there was more to this; she was so certain she would’ve bet an exorbitant amount of gil, but her Scholar’s intuition said to leave well enough alone, at least for now. “Well, that’s alright, then. Um, do you want to wait for her? I can meet you both at the Exarch’s Gate when she is ready, there’s no rush.” Sumire flushed. “I-I promise, we’ll be right behind you, just…” Shoto smiled and shook her head. “Like I said, no rush.”

* * *

Where Hades had gotten to was a tall tree near the gate of the Crystarium, where he sat beneath a curtain of lavender-colored leaves, his back nestled against the trunk quite comfortably, to the point the Ascian might be tempted to doze off.

He was certain the Warriors would find him soon enough; their suspicious natures wouldn’t let him go unsupervised for long, of course. Let them hurry to bundle up their things; it gave him time for contemplation, time alone with his thoughts, that he sorely needed.

First, and paramount, he had to process how far and how fast this...eighth Rejoining was coming along, for them. Every single one of them was taking to their shards with a speed and natural attachment that shouldn’t have been possible. It should’ve required a monumental effort, the fuel that a Calamity brought; everything the Ascians had learned said as much.

...How were they this far along, simply by linking themselves to the ghosts of this land’s heroes?

By Zodiark, they were using creation magic! He’d managed to keep himself calm and collected while dealing with them because he didn’t want to show his shock. His fellow Paragons of the Red, all members of the Convocation, had taken years to regain that power…!

Second, of course, there was--once again--the issue of her.

...Of Shoto, he mentally corrected himself.

...It felt strange, didn’t it? To call her by her name?

For so long, he’d thought of her as just Warrior of Light , as that Warrior of Light, their leader, the prime amongst them with the soul that shone the brightest and with a troublingly familiar golden color. The Hero.

She’d told him her name, then, of course, but…It hadn’t seemed important, at the time.

Indeed, the familiar color of her soul made her company, frankly, difficult, because when he looked, and he couldn’t stop from looking, he remembered what he’d lost. He ceased to be here, on the First, and he was in Amaurot again. It was the Final Days, again, and he was desperately promising Persephone-- I’ll protect you. Always.

His last oath. His greatest failure.

Being around her cut his soul to the metaphysical bone, back then. Just short conversations had made him feel a combination of longing and hatred so intense he thought he’d go mad. The moment he had an opportunity to betray her, to taunt her, to assume the role of the villain, had almost been a relief.

...So…

Why was it so different now? Her presence now was...almost friendly. Comforting. The glow of her soul was like a familiar lamp, a lantern that imitated the sun, but not to mock; rather to pay homage. He’d been telling himself it was gratitude for her selfless acts on his behalf, but…

He’d lived a thousand years and more, witnessed eras rise and fall. This wasn’t something so simple. He was Emet-Selch, the Angel of Truth, with all that that implied; he could not be deceived, even by himself. There was something deeper, some root to their connection. It would be so simple if I believed she was…

But that’s ridiculous. I’d know, he reasoned with himself. His beloved, his Azem, would have known better than to trust in the world-shattering Mother, ever--not that he judged Shoto for it, necessarily. And wasn’t that proof she was a different person? Moreover, if he’d antagonized Persephone the way he’d antagonized Shoto, he could never forgive himself. Obviously.

...It was still so strange, though.

How soul-wrenching it had been to walk beside her before, and how nice it seemed now. It was almost freeing to even think her name-- Shoto. Shoto. Shoto.

A response came back to him, confused and rather harried. “Emet-Selch…?”

The Ascian leapt up and almost hit his head on a low-hanging tree branch.

Zodiark’s actual wings of shadow damn it, how had he forgotten--if he could hear her thoughts, she could hear his!

“Is something wrong?” he felt her think, and he hastily shook his head, pushing his bangs out of his face and straightening his garments.

“No! Nothing’s amiss, good hero! I am completely fine! I was...extremely...bored.” He tried to radiate the appropriate level of detachedness. “Had you and yours taken any longer, I might’ve fallen asleep against this tree.”

Exasperation radiated from her, but there was an odd warmth to it, like he could feel her roll her eyes. It was…kind of cute.

...He managed to shield this thought from her and also to drop it down a metaphorical abyss forever.

“Well, we’re here now. Look to your right.”

And there, indeed, she was, radiating that warm yellow-orange color off her, her soul dancing like tamed fire; he couldn’t help but smile as she approached, though he let it slip to his usual smirk as her companions followed close behind--the Dragoon and the Summoner. The Viera folded her arms and her lips curled into a small frown as she saw him. “I’m surprised,” Yuki grumbled. “I would’ve thought you’d dismiss yourself and teleport away to Eulmore to do whatever it is you want there, by now.”

“My dear,” Hades replied breezily, “I have no need to deceive any of you, as I thought you understood. I said my intention was to travel with you, and keep your leader here from any...reckless acts, and so I’m going to do that.”

The Viera gave an angry “hmph!” and looked away; the Ascian merely hefted his bag with a shrug. Shoto blinked as she realized he wasn’t wearing his normal, regal attire of a Garlean Emperor, but rather a long, black robe appropriate for a mage of rank, with metallic trim that put one in the mind of dark steel rather than silver; it had two pauldrons that were practically an afterthought, white-gold utility belts that held a variety of small items, and a massive cowl that looked like a gigantic religious collar when it was down, trimmed with fur.

...It was simplistic, but it fit him; in fact, he looked quite good in it, a thought the Ascian caught and allowed himself a slightly saucy smirk to. “I do hope my new attire is appropriate? I felt that traipsing about looking the part of Imperator might be a little gauche, given our destination and the Leveilleur boy’s delicate sensibilities.” Shoto couldn’t help but blush. “It’s, it’s nice. It’s quite appropriate, yes, and probably better than explaining the glory of Garlemald to everyone you meet.” “Dear hero, that would get boring for me, too! I’d mix it up,” he teased. “I’d talk about the glory of Allag, too, and there’s a lot more material there.”

...This conversation had deepened Yuki’s frown to a “seething” level, which Sumire took notice of and loudly cleared his throat, interrupting. “While we’re on the road,” he put in, “I...I know it’s early days, but I’m still curious about the basic concepts of this...Creation Magic.”

Emet-Selch gave the Dragoon a mildly nonplussed look, shrugging.

“It is, as I tried to emphasize before, chiefly a matter of focus and will. You have to hold the image and the structure in your mind’s eye, consistently, and channel the aether towards the end of willing it into being--not requesting it to be, willing it to be.” He lifted one hand, clasping it into a fist, and paused for a moment, a shadowy aura swirling around him as he concentrated visibly; when he unfurled his fingers, a small white blossom was in his palm, which blew away into petals in a breeze.

Sumire cocked his head to the side, nodding and biting his lip, unsure quite how to respond; Yuki, for her part, half-audibly scoffed.

So it’s just that simple, huh?

Fine. She could do that much, the Summoner reasoned; closing her eyes, she called her own aether around her, the world seeming to flex and seethe with its glowing aura. She cupped her hands and stood there.

...And stood there.

...Her brow furrowed tighter and her grimace deepened.

What am I thinking…?

This is just...just childish nonsense! It’s the Ascian’s version of a prank! It’s foolishness!

Her concentration finally broke and she dismissed her aether when she heard the Paragon chuckle, her expression furious. “Th-this is ridiculous! I didn’t feel even the slightest ripple of actual magic, you--!”

Hades couldn’t help his smirk, though he did try to cover it, to his credit. “Well, I did say it was chiefly about those virtues, my good Viera--it also has to do with the center of one’s focus, with what feels most natural to you. A sort of creative paradigm or talent, unique to you and connected to your soul; in Amaurot it was something everyone came to by intuition. Alas, less so in these shattered worlds.”

Sumire’s ears flicked; he remained silent, but he looked even more thoughtful than before; this much was actually a familiar concept to him, a legitimate one. He’d had to learn how to use the aether to “see” with his right eye, after the Dravanian attack on his home--it wasn’t something you could force, you had to naturally let the aether flow into the eye and follow what it sensed. At first, the sensation had been totally alien, but once he learned to relax and incorporate it, it was second nature.

...So everyone had a separate focus, then? I wonder what mine would even be …

Concentrating on the idea for more than a moment, though, nearly made him nod off where he was standing, a huge wave of sudden tiredness washing over his body. He shook his head violently, even as another breeze blew over the group.

Better consider that later.

Shoto, finally, who’d been absorbing the conversation herself, had also closed her eyes, but the Scholar was recalling the moment of an errant flower’s arrival in the vase. How it had looked, how it had smelled, the shape of its blossom and its stem. She imagined its rootwork...the bright red of the petals, so vibrant, like flame. The softness of its round leaves…

She felt the sudden urge to flick her wrist outward, and didn’t stop herself, caught up in the moment and remembering in the back of her mind what Hades had just said about the focus coming naturally…

Her aether swirled, spiked, crackled. She heard her fairies shout tinny alarums as her eyes opened…

A flower’s thin stem had burst from the earth in front of her, with familiar flame-red petals, still emitting a golden wisp of aether. As her concentration broke, it dissipated, but it left all four of them staring in awe, before Emet-Selch’s face became a genuine smile, applauding.

“You see? Not a completed creation, not solidly anchored, but a fine attempt! Well done, my dear.” Shoto’s cheeks burned in a blush, but she couldn’t help her own small smile of pride, and Sumire looked impressed, applauding a little himself; Yuki crossed her arms and bit her lip, turning away slightly, though she too looked almost amazed.

“Th-thanks,” Shoto said. “I feel a little...light-headed, though…”

“Keep in mind that it does draw on your aether, though,” Emet-Selch reminded her, not unkindly. “And as yours is already depleted, further practice should, potentially, wait...but for a first conscious attempt, it was quite impressive. Why, we’ll be progressing to advanced lessons in no time.”

Shoto’s cheeks got even redder, and yet...her smile didn’t leave, and something in her felt warm at the praise. “B-be that as it may, we’ll have to explain those lessons to Alphinaud before long. Let’s get going, it’s nearly midday!”

* * *

Nearly a bell passed in silence as the group made their way towards Sullen.

Emet-Selch had ended up in the lead of the party, entirely by accident; perhaps it was some quirk of Ascian bodies, as the Angel of Truth seemed not to tire at all with each yalm, and his strides were quite long. Behind him followed Sumire, whose training under the watchful eye of the Holy See had served him well athletically...and then was Shoto, who was valiantly trying to keep up, despite being visibly drained. Yuki brought up the rear, mostly to keep watch over her struggling friend...and also due to her own foul mood, expressed in haphazard kicks to the ground as she went, errant stones tumbling into the Lakeland weeds.

The Viera kept her eyes on the two men in front of them...well, the man and the Ascian. She was glad that Sumire hadn’t inquired further into her...admitted overreaction from earlier, and that he seemed to be his usual self. That was good. They could put all that silliness behind them, where it belonged, and where it would definitely never bother her again, no sir.

...Never. Bother. Her. Again.

Her eyes on Emet-Selch, of course, were for totally separate reasons involving her completely justified suspicion. He was nothing but trouble, and that little...light show with the flowers had only solidified that notion. She knew he was up to something. She couldn’t figure it out with the evidence she had now, but she knew it in her bones.

So she’d watch, and wait, and when he slipped up she’d call down the wrath of every elemental force she knew a name for on his head.

Her general seething was interrupted as Shoto nearly tripped over a larger-than-usual rock and swayed under the weight of her pack, grimacing and trying to re-hoist it with obvious difficulty, but it looked like without help she’d fall over. She was valiantly attempting to stay balanced when Sumire almost leapt back to her, gently taking the pack in his hands.

“Shoto? If you'd like, I could help carry your pack for now?”

A sad, half-smile appeared on her face, she was not about to argue, as she knew her strength was waning. She really had taken too much of a risk with her aether; she felt so drained, so weary.

Emet-Selch had stopped as Shoto almost tripped, too--he looked like he’d been going to render aid, but Sumire had got to her side first, and so the Ascian simply observed with crossed arms and a carefully neutral expression, trying to focus on her aetheric levels and making sure they were still safe. For the moment, they seemed so.

As Sumire hoisted the pack, a small piece of dark fabric fell from it; caught by the wind, it nearly fluttered off to become lost in Lakeland, but Yuki saw it and snatched it out of the air before this could occur. Neither of the Miqo’te seemed to notice.

Yuki looked curiously over the fabric. It had originally been quite richly woven, made of some rarefied fabric, but it had become a little threadbare; Shoto must’ve kept it with her throughout her travels. A keepsake of some kind?

She tilted her head as she examined the image on it; the sigil of a crimson unicorn’s head, lined with gold, surmounting some sort of laurel wreath, it looked like, in the same colors. It looked like the heraldry of some noble family...a High House of Ishgard, perhaps? She vaguely remembered a familiar description from one of Sumire’s tales. She shoved it into her pocket; this had to be returned to Shoto at the earliest possible opportunity.

* * *

They had nearly made it to the Source’s edge, and the docks of the Weed were within sight, when Yuki got her opportunity; Shoto, even without her burden, had paused in the middle of the road, bent over, her hands on her knees and her breathing labored.

Sumire looked back at their friend with concern, and Hades practically went over to hover at her side.

“Perhaps... we should... take a short break...?” the Dragoon ventured.

“I’m sorry.” Shoto huffed before she found a spot to sit; atop a nearby rock. Yuki sat down beside her, biting her lip.

“Are you sure you're alright? We could've waited in the Crystarium for at least another day.” The Scholar simply shook her head, “No, I'll not hold us back.”

“Shoto…” Yuki sighed and shook her head, but she supposed there was no point now. “Alright. Oh, though, before I forget any longer, this is yours--it fell from your pack when Sumire was picking it up.” Her eyes met Shoto’s as she pulled the fabric out and laid it in the Scholar’s hand. “It looked as though it might be important…?”

Shoto gasped audibly when she saw what it was, and quickly took the fabric, holding it to her chest as she closed her eyes tightly; Emet-Selch blinked as he felt the swirl of emotions the keepsake raised in her, the sudden wave of feeling enough to even bowl over the Ascian, emotionally speaking. Longing...nostalgia...grief...It was almost an echo of when he thought too hard about Persephone.

“...Thank you,” Shoto managed after a moment. “If I lost this, I’d never have forgiven myself...I’ll be more careful from now on.”

Though he wanted to comfort her, the keepsake piqued the Ascian’s curiosity to a point that he almost craned his neck to see the item, like the shoebill he’d disguised himself as. “What is it, exactly? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

Shoto’s smile in reply was sad enough he almost regretted the question. “Ah. It was a memento from a dear friend of mine...One I’ve not forgotten.” She unfurled the fabric almost shyly, letting them see. Though Yuki looked no wiser, Emet-Selch’s eyes went a little wide in recognition, and Sumire actually gasped himself.

“That’s a High House’s symbol,” the Dragoon said. “If I remember...House Fortemps’, isn’t it?”

Shoto nodded, silently.

Yuki blinked and looked to the Dragoon with a light smile. “Well, that’s wonderful, isn’t it? Maybe we can go visit them, soon, and you and Sumire can make introductions.”

“W-well, hold on, I’d need introducing too! I never knew you were a friend of--,” Sumire began, but then his voice died, along with Yuki’s smile, as they saw the tears in the corners of Shoto’s eyes.

“Heh. ...I...I think he would’ve liked that, but…”

Yuki bit her lip as the realization overtook her. It wasn’t that Shoto hadn’t seen this friend in some time; rather, if they visited, all they’d be visiting was a gravestone.

“...I’m sorry,” she said, laying a gentle hand on Shoto’s shoulder.

“You couldn’t have known,” the Scholar said, shaking her head, but Emet-Selch interrupted with a soft question.

“...What was his name?”

Shoto blinked, surprised at the identity of the questioner. “...Haurchefant. Haurchefant Greystone, of House Fortemps.”

Sumire gave a slightly sad smile of his own. “Ah. Lord Haurchefant of the Silver Fuller...I met him, once, I think. He was...larger than life, I recall.”

Shoto couldn’t help but giggle. “Y-yes, yes. He was...very extravagant, I’d call it, but in a wonderful way.” A memory of the Elezen’s excited cry upon meeting her at Camp Dragonhead crossed her mind, and she couldn’t help but smile broadly. How she missed him; his excitable nature, his infectious smile, the way he called things “splendid!” that was quintessential to him...

...How he’d gazed at her and her alone, the lilt in his voice when he’d told her how tempting her well-trained body was, resurfaced as well, to the point she had to shake her head violently to clear it.

...Was it her imagination, or had that last thought made Emet-Selch look jealous??

“I think,” the Ascian said with gravity and import, his face smoothly melting back to his more neutral, world-weary affect, but his voice surprisingly kind, “that it’s only natural you treasure his memory. Never regret that, hero.” He cleared his throat. “However, if you truly mean to reach Kholusia before nightfall, perhaps we should make it to the ferry sooner, rather than later.”

Shoto, beet red, nodded and all but sprang up. “Y-yes! Let’s keep going. I’m rested, now, and besides, the boat isn’t far.”

...Something about how fast she sprang up almost made the Ascian feel a bit guilty.

...Surely he hadn’t projected any odd feelings about her...feelings…

Whatever. He could make up for it later!

* * *

It was, indeed, not even half a bell more before they found themselves on the creaking planks of the Weed’s plentiful docks, seeking after the ferry to Kholusia; as they made their way over the first bridge, Shoto noticed a grizzled old Hume who looked to be taking inventory rather than hauling in fish, and waved for his attention. “Ah, excuse me!”

The grizzled old fellow blinked and looked up from his writing, brow wrinkling in confusion at the party of travelers before him; his confused expression only served to pronounce a scar across his nose and left cheek, his dark brown eyes searching them.

“Eh? What business do I have with ye, lass?”

Emet-Selch unconsciously bristled beneath his large cowl, though the hood shrouded his face and hid his scowling expression from the Hume; Shoto, for her part, gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry to bother you, but...we’re seeking a ferry to Kholusia, and we’re hoping you could point us in the right direction.”

The old Hume’s look became more affable, and he nodded. “It’ll be Dadfort ye’re wanting, aye; he sails th’ route ‘twixt here and Stilltide, from time to time.” “Wonderful!” said Shoto brightly. “Can you tell us where to find him?”

“He frequents a li’l tavern on Brick, th’ Drunken Eel. This time o’ day he’ll be out front, probably nursin’ his first pint and still lookin’ for custom. Look fer the big Galdjent with th’ white hair.”

The Scholar bowed in thanks, and the group hurried over the next bridge, departing Weed for Brick and finding, after peering at the signs of several taverns, the Drunken Eel; indeed, under the signpost of the establishment, leaning against a wall, was a massive Galdjent fellow with slate-grey skin and white hair.

Silently, Hades wondered what Shoto planned to do about the gap between Stilltide and Eulmore, a gap that would take them nearly as long as the walk here, and that was if things went well. The Crystarium’s soldiers had done a fine job of keeping most beasts and errant, remaining sin eaters from encroaching on the road, but he knew Kholusia to be much wilder, given its prior ruler’s...proclivities.

“Hello,” Shoto greeted the Galdjent. “We’re looking for Dadfort, are you--”

“Aye, I’m he,” the oversized fellow said, grunting a little as he pushed himself up from the wall. “I suppose your party here is lookin’ for passage?”

“Yes,” said Shoto. “We’re bound for Kholusia. I know you usually only go as far as Stilltide, but we’re hoping to hire you for a trip to Eulmore.”

Ah, so that was what she planned to do about it. Unfortunately, the very name of the city made the Galdjent’s expression darken and his arms crossed. “Nothing doing, then. You want a different vessel, and like as not a different port. I only sail to Stilltide.”

Shoto’s face fell. “But…”

“We might be at peace,” Dadfort said, “and aye, there’s rumors enough that Vauthry’s dead and gone, and the aristos have repented of their ways. And here’s what I say--it’s all sin eater’s dung.” He spat on the docks to his side. “If ye want passage to Stilltide, then I go there and not a yalm further.”

“Is there really no way we might change your mind?” It was Hades who said this, his voice almost a purr. Dadfort’s eyes narrowed, but the Ascian went on smoothly.

“You see, the dear young scholar here is quite frail of body and we know that the Eulmorans haven’t quite cleared up the roads. If you could stop at Eulmore’s docks, for just a moment, it would do us a service we’ll well remember. And you’ll be quite fairly compensated,” he added. A coin pouch was suddenly in Dadfort’s hand, and judging by the big man’s expression, it was quite weighty.

“...I’m not stayin’ a second more than I have to, nor lettin’ ‘em write my ship’s name on no cursed rich man’s roster, y’hear? And I won’t be takin’ ye back. Find other passage to return.”

“Not a problem at all, my good man,” Emet-Selch replied, bowing amiably. Dadfort chewed his lip, but then pocketed the coin pouch and cracked his knuckles, and extended a hand to the Angel of Truth, who shook it firmly.

“Deal’s made, then. Meet me at th’ docks in fifteen. My ship’s th’ Ondo Princess, ye can’t miss her.”

And off he went, leaving the group almost shocked. Shoto looked at him both gratefully and at a loss for words.

“So you’re a businessman, as well as an emperor?” she offered.

Emet-Selch merely laughed, pushing his hair back, and allowed himself a triumphant grin.

“Oh, there’s much you don’t know about me yet, my dear hero.”

_________________________________________________________ Writers’ Note: Hope you enjoy the new chapter and Thank you for your support! We will have a new chapter of “In the Tower’s Reflection” as well!

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