#khilo-c

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #7 - Speculate

Titania’s Domain Il Mheg “The First”

Two Eorzeans looked up at a castle in a land of eternal daylight.

“Are those...wings?” Darian asked, hand shading his eyes.  

“Uh...Yep,” Arli replied.  Her attention was more focused on the denizens of the area the locals called ‘ill meg’ - eternal children with small wings and smaller bodies that were unholy terrors if you didn’t play along to their terrible whims.  “All the little bastards have ‘em.”

“No - the castle.  It has wings.  Why does it have wings?”

Arli shrugged.  

“I’unno,” she said.  “If I had to guess, the little folks decided the castle wanted wings, then BAM!  Wings.”

“Really?” Darian asked.  “That’s your speculation?  Faeries did it?”

“Faeries don’t exist,” Arli replied in a matter-of-fact tone.  

“Castle still has wings,” Darian said.

“Not for long, darling,” Arli replied as she hefted a greatsword.  “Not for long.”

[sogo1337-blog]

Почему же их никто не слушает? :c

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #9 - Friable

Somewhere The Pillars, Crystarium Lakeland “The First”

A woman rubbed her hands together in a candlelit room.  A man lay face-down on the bed before her, his skin bare and unmarred, but taut - tense, perhaps?  Anticipatory.  Arli Vaeltore bit back a sense of jealousy at the lack of scars, easily washed out by an overwhelming greed at getting to put hands all over this warm body.  

Darian’s back felt inviting.  This made sense to Arli as she pressed her hands against him; Darian himself was inviting.  Loving.  Attentive.  Caring.  All of these words were important to her; without them and the consideration behind the same she would be just another aether-shocked veteran searching for a battlefield to die upon.

Arli was much more than this.

Her hands kneaded the tension from taut shoulders, her tongue peeking out from the side of her mouth as she focused her entire being on turning this patch, right here, into pudding.  

“How are you so tense?” she mused aloud as she continued to work.  “It’s like you’re sculpted from stone!”

“Mmm,” Darian replied with a sleepy smile, “You’re doing great.  Don’t be afraid to get firm.  Push hard.”

Arli’s feet felt cold against the white marble floor.  The flickering candles reflecting off the same gave the room a pale air; it extended as far as Darian’s normally healthy skin.  It made him seem...brittle, somehow.  

She poked a spot at his mid-back, over his ribs where she would estimate his heart to be, and it was like flicking a brick.  A frown creased her face as she rubbed her hands together once more and leaned into it.

“I’m not doing this wrong,” she grumbled.  “I’m not.  I have hands, and they’re great, and you’ve never complained, but it’s like you are fighting me on this!”

She hesitated, her hands cool against his skin.

“You...aren’t fighting me on this,” Arli asked. “Are you?” 

“Not at all,” Darian murmured.  “Just a little harder, just a bit.”

Teeth clenched, Arli put her all into forcing the tension out of Darian’s smooth skin.  Her hands felt hot against his cool flesh.

“Almost there,” he said.  “Just a bit more…”

Arli took a deep breath, and with the force she’d placed against his back she felt his skin move.  

No. It did more than move.  It sloughed away, leaving blood and stone in its wake.  Friable meat dripped from Arli’s hands onto the marble plinth on which Darian lay, the Light reflecting off the white marble surfaces.  

It was freezing.  She was freezing.  

“Ah,” it said.  “Right there.”

The thing beneath her stained hands was not Darian.  It looked like Darian in some ways - the lithe frame, the Eye in its forehead, the way his hair fell cutely to either side.  

But it was not him.  It was a statue.  It was one of those Eaters of Sin.  

It rose from the plinth, shining blade in hand and wings outspread, drawing close.

“Soon,” it said, and then its mouth was on hers.

Arli could feel the Light choking her, cutting off her breathing, filling her eyes.  She couldn’t even scream.  There was naught but Light.

And then, naught at all.

---

Arli bolted upright in bed, choking.  Her airway was still blocked as she bounded out of bed, a sleepy Darian poking his head up next to her.

“Amica,” he started, “What’s-”

Arli dropped to her hands and knees, hacking and coughing.  The Miqo’te could feel something in her throat - something alien, something unwanted.  Her back arched; her tail whipped to and fro.

“Arli?!” Darian moved, leaping from the bed to be by her side, arms outstretched.  He stopped once he got closer - Arli had thrown up her hand to halt his forward advance, spittle leaking from her mouth.

A gargantuan effort, and she had spit up a mess of...something onto the floor.  

“Twelve,” she groaned, able to breathe.  “What the hell is that?  Fur?”  

“I don’t even have fur!”

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #6 - Avatar

The Pillars, Crystarium Lakeland “The First”

Arli sighed.  She already had issues sleeping but the ever-present sunlight was making her beyond irritable.  Cronus was nowhere to be found - probably wherever the hell she left it before going to the baths and sake house in Kugane.  

“Okay,” she said, “I want to make sure I have this clear.  These moving white statue-y things are Sin Eaters, not Primals, and every one of them is an avatar of Light - which is bad and not good.”

“That is...accurate,” replied the half-crystal-half-man in the flowy robes.  “If not oversimplified.”

Arli did not like Crystal Robes.  Darian, to his credit, was willing to hear him out.  Plus they were sitting in an Allagan tower of technological marvels and he’d hoped staying on Crystal Robes’ good side would let him into the basement where all the good toys were hidden.

“And that is tied directly into why the fuck Darian and I were cruelly whisked away during our blissful honeymoon,” Arli continued, the bridge of her nose pinched between thumb and forefinger.

“It was pretty cruel,” Darian added, running his hand over the smooth crystal mirror that apparently doubled as a portal.  “I wonder if there’s an aetheric charge or if it’s just elemental - wait, do you have ceruleum here?”

“I understand your frustrat-no, no I do not know what that is - your frustrations,” Crystal Robes said, “But our need is great and the stories laud your great feats of heroism.”

Darian was already snorting before Arli could answer.  

“Why are you laughing?!” she yelled.  Darian’s snort went to a full-throated laugh that lasted an eternity before he could answer.

“Amica mea,” he chortled, “You hate it but he’s right.  You’ve already made up your mind, you’re just being the little avatar of chaos I fell in love with.”

Arli’s nostrils flared but she bit back the retort.  He was right, too.  She couldn’t just say no, but-

“I need orange paint,” she snarled at Crystal Robes.  “I’m not going to fight with black armor.”

“But I felt as the Warrior of Darkness, you-”

“If we’re going to kill a bunch of unkillable Light monsters,” Arli snarled, “I’m going to do it looking like a ray of fucking sunshine!”

Darian howled with laughter.  He was taking to this entirely too well.

“Oh, and I’ll need access to the basement,” Arli continued.

“Why?”

“BECAUSE I ASKED NICELY.”

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #5 - Slow

There are numerous ‘you are the villain’ playlists on the Tube of You.  I blame them wholly for this.

Somewhere, Anywhere Nowhere

Everywhere

A woman danced alone in a dim building.  It was unlike most of the restaurants or clubs or other venues she’d visited - for one, the music was slow.  Measured.  Laced with a serenity,  a longing.  

Or, perhaps, an absence. 

A battle raged off the dance floor. It raged outside the club, and clashed far away from the bustling city in which the woman found herself dancing alone.  She knew of the battle; a letter in her bag spoke in detail of it - as well as her role to be played.  Tomorrow she would don a suit of blackened armor, wield a black sword, and take the field.  

Tonight, C’arliani Khilo danced in the Club At The End Of The World.  

Her hips bumped with every slow beat, movements smooth and measured.  It wasn’t as if C’arliani stood still on the dance floor; she did - but it was with a minimum of movement from a single square.  Every step, every turn, every motion was within that single tile.  Her arms remained close together, hands curled as if gripping a haft of a greatsword.  As the songs progressed, her movements were relaxed, smooth, and practiced. Light.  Static.  

A dance, yes, but practice nonetheless.  

The feeling of resignation in C’arli’s chest swelled, pushing against her throat.  Trying to escape.  Another war.  Another assignment.  Another set of orders in which she would add to her scrapbook of scars, perhaps the last one she would ever receive.  They were all the last ones until they weren’t; nine lives had extended into countless moments of survival when the Miqo’te should’ve died.  

What was there to live for, anyway?  At least there was dancing.

A last bump and turn on the dance floor as the song faded, only to be met with an aberration.  An intruder into her solitary ritual, a body sharing a space.  Hands against hers, a chest to collapse against, and legs that moved in time with hers.  

Practiced movements akin to a sword-wielding kata turned to a slow dance.  A solo became a duet.

“I was worried you’d never come,” Arli said as she rested her head, letting herself be taken away by a slow dance for two.  

“I could never stay away,” he replied, lips pressing against the top of her head.  “But I do have a question.”

“Hmm?” Arli asked, mismatched eyes squinting as she looked up.  “What’s that?”

“Amica mea,” Darian replied, “Where are we?”

---

Arli’s eyes flew open and she bolted upright.  A soft bed.  A lavishly-appointed room.  A fire crackling, a desk laden with papers and maps, a long table with a selection of fine meats and cheeses and - things she had never seen before.

Bottles strewn across the floor.  That much she was familiar with.

Arli knew it was well past the witching hour.  She knew because she always woke up at this hour, even if Darian did not.  Even so, the room was bathed in daylight - even through closed shutters.   

She hopped out of bed and stole towards the window, throwing open those light-leaking shutters to a landscape that was altogether alien.

Arli’s natural reaction was enough to startle Darian out of a sleep akin to a coma and send birds into the sky.

“WHAT THE FU--”

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #23 - Soul

Blame @adeerinnara-blog for this development - but I did have to do something different for the Honeymoon series.

Moo hoo ha ha ha.

Mt. Gulg Kholusia “The First”

For the fifth time, a Light Warden was dead.  The pair of newlyweds were getting rather good at the ‘kill thing keeping daylight past requisite hours, absorb aether, feel weird for awhile’ strategy, just in time to clear out the rest of the accursed Light from the realm.  

Nighttime, blessed and cool, had finally returned, fully - or would, as soon as the actual sun went down over Mt. Gulg.  Already, Arli could see the spotlights and festive lanterns sparkling across Eulmore as the seas darkened alongside the sky.

“Wow,” she murmured.  “You never think the nighttime would be taken for granted, y’know?”

The Miqo’te felt Darian’s presence sidle up next to her to share in the view.  It was her time now; the moments between light and dark, dusk and dawn, when neither the sun nor moon held dominance.  

It felt fitting that it was her sword arm and his unerring aim that felled the source of Eternal Light.

“How do you feel?” Darian murmured into her hair, his arm around her waist.  “Not just physically, but with-everything?”

Arli sighed, using the moment to assess herself.  Sore, certainly.  Bruised, absolutely.  Most of all…

“...Tired,” she said as she let her greatsword slip from her fingers.  “Hurts inside.  Like I have a crystal in my lungs, or around my heart.”

“You’ve been taking on too much,” Darian replied.  “Amica, yours feels like a beacon we’ve been working to snuff.”

“It’s fine!” Arli declared, as lame as it may have been. 

Twelve, I’m tired.

Any further declarations were interrupted by the telltale sound of a metal-clad stride across polished white stone; the scrape of steel against rock, and the steadied breath of a warrior’s resolve.  

Arli turned.  

The figure stood ready with a greatsword of her own and clad in armor of shining white.  Just as tall as the Miqo’te, this Mystel’s hair was bleached blonde by an eternal sun - or perhaps the sheer amount of aether she possessed.  Arli could feel it in the figure, just as she saw that figure’s face.

“That’s-” Darian started before Arli pushed him aside.  

“I know,” she said.

“Were it anyone else,” said the figure that shared her face, “I wouldn’t have had to get involved directly.”

She was fast.  Arli, laden with the static nature of Light, battered and bruised, and still confused that she was here - was not.   

It felt only worse when she felt the blade pierce her armor.  

Then her skin.  

Unable to breathe, or even move, Arli slipped off the blade and hit the ground.

“Reani-Rae,” her double whispered as the aether built in her-their soul.  “Pleased to meet you, finally.”

It burned.  A flash of white, then darkness.

Blessed darkness.

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #4 - Baleful

Somewhere in the Azim Steppes

Hingashi

The vibe on the plains was...interesting, to say the least.

Arli Vaeltore, a walking catastrophe on a honeymoon, faced off against an equally-calamitous Borlaaq whose eyes were not fixed on her opponent, but the befuddled man standing off to the side.  Arli’s hackles were up, hands curled into claws, and tail fluffed with pure aggression.

Holuikhaan Borlaaq, in contrast, moved slower - but her energy was no less baleful. 

“I want that one,” Holui snarled, hands extended in the traditional opening of a Bokh match - the ancestral Xaela sport where one endeavored to bring the other to the ground without using strikes - only throws and pushes.  A fine version of wrestling, and one that Arli was terrible at.

“I will return him when I am done.”

“The hell you will!” Arli spat back, a low yowl growing in her throat as she assumed the same position.  “He’s mine!”

Darian, to his credit, was content to sit back and let nature take its course.  

“Don’t I get a say in this?” he asked, hand resting on the butt of his gun.

“NO!” the two women shouted in unison, which was immediately amended.

“Well-of course,” Arli said, distracted.  “You always do!”

Holui advanced, grabbing Arli by the shoulder.  “Perhaps I will not return him!” she said, moving to hip-check the Miqo’te and throw her to the ground.

“Bitch!” Arli howled, tangling her legs in Holui’s as they both hit the ground - a whirlwind of claws, tails, legs, and teeth.  

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #1: Foster

It begins.  Moo hoo ha ha ha.

Home Divided Sky, Mist Limsa Lominsa

The early hours found Arli awake in bed, staring at a glittering ring on her left hand.  A fire crackled in the hearth - needless in the height of summer in an eternally warm and inviting region, but the flickering light caught just right against the polished stone and drew the eye - just as the designer intended.

Lying down as she was, Arli knew she shouldn’t have the ring on.  It was dangerous.  It could kill a man - in fact, she had once, as a sharp piece of jewelry was all she’d had at the time.  And yet, as she looked at the ring and felt the warmth next to her that was linked to it, she had none of the old fears and worries that would keep her up all night.  

The ring that bound her to her husband fostered a sense of peace.  A tiny (well, okay, not that tiny) glittering gem kept the darkness at bay, and Arli’s insomnia was out of wonder and not dread.  And so the ring stayed on.

Arli Vaeltore, she thought.  A Coeurl no longer, I’m…

She shifted, resting her head on Darian’s chest while he slept.  It was comfortable enough, and his sleep was otherwise undisturbed as he’d grown used to her perching on him.  

...Hungry.  I’m hungry.  I wonder if…

Arli’s hand moved of it’s own volition, fingers creeping up Darian’s chest until they reached his chin, and then began tapping ever-so-softly against his nose.   

I wonder if he’ll be mad I’m waking him up to make me dessert.  

Tail swishing, a languid smile crept across Arli’s face as she felt Darian shift.  Any thoughts of uncertainty could wait, banished as they were in the face(and arms) of spousal adoration.

I’ll make it up to him.  

Tonight would be sleepless for a different reason.

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #12 - Float

The Source Lakeland “The First”

A woman floated in a lake for which the area was named, staring at the sky.  It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, but perhaps the first time here - on another world, or another reality, or whatever.  It was, though, a habit she’d picked up when finding somewhere new.  

If she felt listless, or alone, or conflicted - she would float.  There, the thoughts that brought her into the water would sink, and leave only the woman behind.  

Previous floats left her wishing that she would sink instead, and leave nothing.  Life, however, abides - and now she could breathe underwater so sinking would be pointless.

This time, she floated in The Source only to reflect on that first time she was in the water.

---

The only way one could escape the desert heat was to swim, and Arli Lore took to that water quickly.  Perhaps to escape the father who had come for her when her twin was taken to Gridania, the oft-maligned Eclipse was taken from a forest home and thrown in the scorching sun.  Sulking, and cut off from her family who she knew would come for her, she floated in the surf, looking at a bluer-than-blue sky.  

The Lore clan knew her and her brother Faero’li had an emotional connection that spanned great distances.  They already spoke ‘twin’, and the two were inseparable - but when Faero’li started showing signs of the ‘uncheckable’ aether manipulation that pissed off the Elementals, Faero dragged him to the Conjurer’s Guild - and C’khilo was waiting to take his due from an otherwise unresisting pile.

The surf felt cool, a welcome respite from the heat of the day.  She had only been here a sennight, but her skin already took to the sun’s rays and darkened to a fine tan.  The tattoos had hurt, but she kept still even as the Coeurl assumed she would squirm and scream.  

Weak, they had called her.  She would show them weakness.

All through, Arli had leaned on the emotional bond she and ‘Roli shared.  She could feel his trepidation, and she tried to calm him - even as he felt hers, and responded in kind.  It made life in the Tribe bearable insofar as they weren't alone.

She floated because that bond had vanished, and not gracefully. It had been severed, a flash of fear of the White, terror of Padjal hands, horror of a glow- and the terrible rending silence. Loss.

Death. 

As she floated, Arli was utterly alone. She knew in that moment that her clan would not come for her. As Roli was dead, so was she. Yet, she would not stay with the tribe.

If Arli Lore is dead, she thought, then C'arliani Khilo shall embody the worst traits to the Coeurl and Lore both.

Arli closed her eyes, and C'arliani opened them.

---

"Why don't you get the scars on your back healed?"

Darian's question startled Arli out of her reverie. He was standing waist deep in the water she was floating in, another exhibition of his tallness.

Rude, she thought fondly.

The look on her face was one of deep thought, so it took her a long moment to answer. 

"I think...I think it is because it reminds me that the past hurts, and I should not go back to it," she said. "The scars remind me of where I was."

"Amica mea," Darian said with that delightful intonation just for her, "There are ways to reflect on your life without handicapping yourself."

"If I did that," Arli replied, "You'd never be able to keep up with me!"

Any further discourse was interrupted by splashing and shouting, Two people having a fine time in the interbellum, before the next Warden was found and the aspects of Darkness would slay it.

Arli did agree with Darian, however - there were better ways to reflect on a past she gave up to start a future with him. 

But that was a task for future Arli. Present Arli had important matters involving getting Darian's head underwater. 

[canalstreetbaker]

C'arli and her beau Darian. They have exquisite taste in attire (and one another).

Art by Her0icnonsense on twitter!

[canalstreetbaker]

The face of trouble.  

Arli’s been a lot more fun since she let her hair down (figuratively and literally) and site write notwithstanding has been in a really good spot since she was married.  

Both her and Darian are utter gremlins though, so they complement each other well.

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #27 - Benthos

En Route The Ondo Cups The Tempest The First

“Why do you yet return from the benthos of the Tempest?” the turtle asked.  “The last was the last, yet here you are.”

The voice echoed in Arli’s brain, much like a dragon’s speech would.  That was another one of those ‘little secrets’ the Miqo’te liked to keep - languages were easy to understand but impossible to speak.  The turtle’s voice was especially difficult to parse as it clearly expected Arli to be Reani-Rae, which one could somewhat claim was the truth.

“I, er,” she stammered before looking back to Darian for moral support.   “They think we came back from...the seafloor.”

“I don’t think they’ll believe you,” Darian said.  “So let’s be honest and see where it gets us.”

 Arli set her jaw, nodded once, and took a deep breath.  It was time to convince a turtle to help them save the world.

---

“So you are not she,” Bismarck noted, “Yet you share her soul and voice.”

“Yes,” Arli replied, exhausted.  It was only through repeated backrubs from Darian that she cared to keep going; the imbalance of Light threatening to set her into a twisted hibernation.  An overpowering affection made for a supreme inoculant to the slow death that Reani-Rae had tried to consign her to.  

“Reani-Rae, um...left me something that I have to give back,” she added.  “Violently.”

“It is true that she forced me to leave my home through her actions,” the turtle responded, “But she spoke the words, and the pact was honored.”

“Will...you honor the pact anyway?” Arli asked.

The response was almost instant.

“No.  The pact has been fulfilled.”

A tail-drooping silence extended before Bismarck continued.

“But I shall take you anyway.  It will be nice to see the mollusk and the starfish again.”

“Well?” Darian asked, brow furrowed in concern.  It lessened when Arli turned, one of her brilliant smiles gracing her features - a welcome change.

“He’ll take us.  It will take several hours, so we should get comfortable.”

The brilliant smile turned impish as Arli pushed Darian back to a seat on the soft earth that covered Bismarck’s shell.  Her armor fell to the side not long after.

“And I plan to be very comfortable.”

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #26 - Turtle

The Source Lakeland The First

A woman stood on the back of a giant turtle.

She’d had a feeling about the turtle before she knew it was a turtle - or rather the aetheric ideal of a turtle.  The island had sat within the lake the locals called The Source for as long as they could remember, but reports prior to the Calamity of Light showed no such landmass existed.  

From there, it was easy to infer that the landmass could move.  A quick dip below the surface proved Arli’s theory that it was not an island at all - and rock that size did not float on its own.

And so, a woman stood on the back of a giant turtle.

A man stood there as well.  He was both supposed to and not supposed to be here - on the turtle, or on the First.  As the odd one out, Darian had the potential to really make a mess of things for the better.  Such was the reasoning that G’raha Tia and Darian both had banked not only their future, but everyone’s.  

Arli could not bring herself to care, as suffused with the Light as she was - but Darian had a plan for that, and it started by taking her breath away.

Their lips met, and a woman and a man embraced on the back of a turtle.  Darian well knew how to convince Arli of nearly anything, and he used his masculine wiles to their fullest extent.  

“Arli,” he said after many long, breathless moments, “I need you to open your heart to me.  Let me help you.  We need to find Reani, and you’re the only one who knows how to get this turtle to work”

Befuddled, the Miqo’te looked up at Darian and for a shining moment her eyes cleared and she understood.  

“Love me,” Arli told Darian as she leaped up to kiss him proper, her heart and soul open to him as it had always been.  This time, though, she allowed the excess aether she’d kept bottled to flow as well.  

With every moment that passed, Arli looked more hale, more hearty, and more alive - and it showed in the passion and energy she put into showing Darian that her infatuation was still healthy.  

It was minutes, perhaps an hour before Darian and Arli separated to look at one another.

“Always,”  he said.  “I missed you, you know.”

“I missed you too,” Arli said.  “Now to see if I can-”

“I see you have returned,” another voice rumbled from below.  

“-talk to our ride,” she finished.  “That was unusually easy.”

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #25 - Silver Lining

The Pendants, Crystarium Lakeland The First

It took what felt was a solid week for Arli to feel mortal again.  Light-induced apathy gave way to gentle feelings of sadness and loss, which led to stronger and stronger feelings of love, resolve, and anger at Crystal Robes, Reani-Rae, and the situation as a whole.

“This was supposed to be a honeymoon,” she lamented, furious.  “Not a war on a world that has nothing to do with us.”

“I understand your frustration,” Robes replied,  “There was a prophecy which-”

Arli cut him off.

“A prophecy?” she asked.  “We were brought here on the basis of - what - Ronkan foresight?”

“They have been fairly accurate so far,” Darian mused.  “The stela in the Greatwood were very accurate about a Calamity of Light, as well as the murals of the main ‘Gods’ of the star being Primals.”

“Be that as it may,” Robes said with a headshake, “It was not Ronkan prophecy.  It was... a tome found in the ruins of Voeburt.  It told of a woman of great skill and ability who would cause the Calamity of Light and only she could stop what she had started.”

Arli tilted her head.  “The faerie kingdom.  A tome there.”

G’raha nodded.  

“That is correct,” he said.  “I brought it, if you wish to peruse.”

---

The tome was largely what Crystal Robes - G’raha Tia, mind - said.  

Eternal day shall bleach the land, As was set forth by Mystel hand. Such will last for centuries more, ‘Lest selfsame Mystel evens the score.

To stop Eternal Light I tell, Within her form said Light must swell. When brought to full she will then burst, But you’ll have to find her first.

She rules her land in deepest reach, Concealed so well the Light can’t breach.

Arli rubbed the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger.

“Historical tome,” she said.

“Yes.“ G’raha nodded along with his assertion.  “We’ve studied it for a century, after scouts managed to breach the fey mists and find it.  We’ve no idea who wrote it.”

Darian eyed his spouse, suspicious.  

“You know something,” he said.

“I do,” Arli sighed, still furious.  “The cant of the wording, the cutesy rhyme of prophecy, the way she loops her L’s.  Reani-Rae wrote this to rub it in.  She’s gloating.”

G’raha’s ears drooped.  

“I had thought as much,” he said.  “When I had summoned you I had hoped you both would be able to stop her, and I believe that you still can.”

“There is a silver lining,” Arli said as she levered herself up from the bed to find her armor.  “Since I am technically the same person, the Calamity of Light will end one way or another.”

She glanced up with the smallest of smiles, even if her eyes seemed dead.

“And I know where she is.”

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #24 - Illustrious

It is impossible for me to write for a month without being dramatic in some way.  On the home stretch!

The Pillars, Crystarium Lakeland “The First”

Arli’s eyes opened to a familiar ceiling.  

The Miqo’te stared at an expertly-laid roof of offset brick in a red she’d become familiar with over her time in “The First.”  Soft yellow lights burned in their holders, reflecting off the crystalline windows that looked outside the Pendants and over the Lakeland area.  The largest window was still open to the air outside, and it was all Arli could do to even try to groan.

The sky outside burned with the forsaken Light it had when she and Darian had first been snatched away.  

We failed, she thought, looking back at the ceiling.  What an old, familiar feeling.

Arli craned her neck to look towards the table where she could see Darian sitting with Crystal Robes - who had his hood down?  An illustrious occasion, it seemed, as she watched the two for as long as she could keep caring about the tone of the conversation.

It wasn’t long.  The burning in her chest distracted her, and she felt the edges of the wound where her counterpart Reani-Rae had spitted her on her greatsword.  

The wound felt not only wet, but thick.  Slow.  As if she bled molasses.   Lifting her hand, Arli found it was not the crimson stain of blood - but a mucous of excess Light.

Arli stared at the ceiling.  She couldn’t bring herself to feel anything.

---

“You knew,” Darian murmured over folded hands that rested on his chin.  He sat across from Crystal Robes, a Miqo’te (not a Mystel!) named G’raha Tia.  A member of the Students of Baldesion, he had taken the Tower in its entirety from its home on the Source in a future where the world had destroyed itself yet again in the Eighth Umbral Calamity.

“I had my suspicions,” G’raha replied.  “But yes.  The Warriors of Light numbered more than they did in the usual history books.  Reani-Rae never featured in any of them.”

“Why not?” Darian asked.  The Garlean engineer was also bandaged and bruised, but otherwise unmolested by Arli’s doppelganger.  Even so, he moved with notable care, favoring his left side.  “I would expect the illustrious Mystel would be well-feared.”

“Fear is simple,” the Exarch noted as he sipped at a cup of tea.  “Reani never received what she felt was her due.  ‘Twas her blood spilled on more than one occasion while the Warriors of Light saved the day.  By her own reckoning, anyway.”

Darian sighed, biting back a response in favor of a sip from his own mug.  Worry laced every movement he made, every word he spoke, and every action he took.

There will certainly be a reckoning, he thought.  

“What can we do for Arli?” Darian asked.  “Her wound was serious, but it seems so small and slow now.”

“We can only keep her soul strong,” G’raha replied.  “Her imbalance is excessive - moreso than I anticipated.  I’d believed you both would have just been snapped back to The Source and the excess aether would be used to fuel the journey, but Reani-Rae’s assault has poured more into Arli than any one person could conceivably take.  She’s special.”

“You’re damned right she is,” Darian snapped.  “And you pulled us into another war she didn’t need!  I’ve no way to siphon that aether away without her willing it and I’m afraid she’s going to refuse out of obstinance!”

“I am hoping that you will be able to convince her,” the Exarch noted.  “We all are.  She is the reason the Light has returned, but if we can excise it -”

“Excise it!” the Garlean thundered.  “It’s not enough!  There must be more.”

To his credit, Crystal Robes - G’raha Tia - did not respond at first.  He could only nod and sip at his tea, waiting for Darian to come to terms with the possibility that their honeymoon was doomed to failure.

“You pulled Arli from our reality to yours,” Darian said.  “Why?  To counter Reani-Rae?”

“In a way,” G’raha Tia replied, “Yes.  But I didn’t just pull her as you’re aware.”

“Yes,” Darian said.  “You took me in addition.  The ritual net was spread too wide.”

The Exarch smiled, sipping again from a porcelain cup.

“No,” he said, “The net was just wide enough.  Your transit was intentional, as was your wife’s.  You are what makes her different from Reani-Rae, and you are how she can be stopped.”

[canalstreetbaker]

Prompt #22 - Fluster

By now everyone should have realized I try to work towards some kind of meme.

Mt. Gulg Kholusia “The First”

“Oh no,” Arli said as she stared in horror.  “He’s gotten attractive!”

The Miqo’te held a greatsword coated in gore as the fattest man she’d ever laid eyes on began to split at the seams.  Vauthry’s face rose anew from the split ribs and cracked spine of his earthly form, now winged and beatific as all Spoken Sin Eaters were.

Well, most.  Neither Arli nor Darian spoke about Tesleen.  That was an emotionally difficult fight.

“I don’t-I don’t know what to do here,” Arli stammered, taking a step back to allow virginal wings to spread and an icon of perfection rise from the shackles of fleshbound mortality.

“You can perish!” thundered Vauthry as he brandished his spear.  “I will allow you to feel the bliss of Light forevermore as a replacement for my subjects you’ve slain.”

“Darian?” Arli asked.  “Whaaaaat-what’re we doing?!”

Confused, Darian sighted the uncannily handsome face down the barrel of his gun.  

“You’ve never had a problem killing attractive things before,” he said.  

“Well-y-yeah,” Arli replied.  “B-but they were, um…”

“...Female?” Darian asked.  “Attractively female?”

The Miqo’te woman could do nothing but nod.

“Are-are you flustered by a pretty man’s face?” he continued, delighted.  “You?”

“Shut up!” Arli replied, moving to a ready stance.  “Don’t be mean to me!”

“I should’ve known you were the jealous type,” Darian cackled.  “A sucker for a pretty face!”

“Now is not the time!” she yelled.  “We’re about to be stabbed by an angel!”

“You’re about to be stabbed,” Darian said.  “Maybe.”  His gun already sighted, he grinned - and squeezed the trigger.

“We can work on that later.”