wanderers-shadow

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #6 - Avatar

For #ffxvwrite2021

Character: Ryne (Pre-ShB, so “Minfilia“)

Minfilia is never really sure what to do with herself on sleepless nights.

It feels like something she is having to contend with more and more often of late, and tossing and turning with her worries to constantly plague her… Well, there has to be a better way to deal with it. Tonight she slips out from the inn she and Thancred have stopped at for the night as quietly as she can. Maybe some fresh air will do her some good.

Her wanderings don’t lead her very far. She makes it out to the small clearing just outside of the hamlet proper, not far from the inn itself. The place is somber, but safe—defiantly far from larger settlements, but kept secure from Sin Eaters by wandering hunters much like she and Thancred. Hopefully it can maintain this peace indefinitely.

She settles down in the grass and watches the horizon in these quiet, odd hours, trying her best to sort through her thoughts. She’s fairly certain it must be approaching dawn, but the perpetual Light shimmers in the sky, as permanent a fixture as she’s always known it to be. She wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to see a real sunrise. To watch the sun creep up the horizon to serenely paint the sky a myriad of colors as it set aside the darkness for the day.

Would Norvrandt ever have that pleasure again? Is there some way for the world to be returned to the way it once was? More importantly, is there anything she can do to remedy the situation, in her unique position?

The Oracle of Light. The one who protects the world by holding back the tide of the Light. She, out of everyone, surely must have the ability to do more than just hold everything together in precarious stasis, right?

She sighs and casts her gaze down to her lap, fiddling anxiously with one of her sleeves. Uncertainty and trepidation swell up within her once more, the culprits responsible for this and many other sleepless nights.

She wishes she had the answers, to this and so much more. The weight of the responsibility on her shoulders, on some days, almost feels like too much. If she just knew what to do, maybe it wouldn’t weigh as heavy.

There is only one place to get answers. She will have to talk to her, the—the real Minfilia.

But something about it terrifies her. What if she isn’t good enough? If she cannot handle what it is she needs to do? She’s not sure what would be worse—failing at her task or the disappointment in herself and from others that would follow should she not live up to expectations.

To say nothing of her fears that she may not quite remain herself afterward. Or how on some days… she wonders if that would honestly be for the best.

It would be so much easier if she could talk about it, share this burden with someone even in so minor a way. Yet with Thancred being the most logical one to speak too… that was nearly as daunting a task itself. Their conversations often felt like they were treading on the thinnest of ice as it is.

It had to be worth a try, though. Right? Anything would be better than turning her stomach into knots wrestling with her uncertainty all alone. Maybe it would help them both if they just finally talked about it.

She draws her knees up to her chest and hugs them close, and tries to hold onto the courage to do just that.

“Good, you’re up already.” A voice from behind startles her from her thoughts, and she turns to find Thancred approaching. She wonders just how much time she’s spent out here alone. “We should head out on the road—got quite the trek ahead of us today.”

He offers her a small bundle containing a pastry and some dried fruits, not quite looking her in the eye. It stings, that subtle avoidance, and she does her best to hide it from her face as she accepts the bundled breakfast. He pauses, briefly, to survey the horizon she’s spent these early hours contemplating, before making his way down the hill toward the road out of town without another word.

No. Perhaps it would be best if she kept this to herself, for now.

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #4 - Baleful

For #ffxivwrite2021

Character: Tahla Nhavan

Tahla tries very, very hard to avoid thinking about the calamity.

Mostly she’s successful. They’ll slip through sometimes, stray thoughts worming their way in during a moment of idleness, or vivid snapshots of dreams only half-remembered in waking hours. But through the years, she’s grown more and more adept at sweeping these thoughts aside like one might shoo away an insignificant pest.

She’s not sure if she should be happy about that or not. Ostensibly, she knows she should—it is unhealthy to let grief and trauma have a stranglehold on her forever, but the irrational part of her finds it to be a betrayal to those she’s lost. The best way to avoid confronting that little thought spiral is to simply shut out all thoughts of that fateful day whatsoever.

The Rising makes it a lot harder.

The anniversary of Dalamud’s fall comes every year, spilling a somber wave onto an entire continent. Vigils for the lost and remembrance ceremonies are inescapable, and it allows that grief to seize her at the exclusion of all else.

She remembers very little of the day the moon fell, only snatches of recollections piecing together a hasty sketch of what transpired.

What felt like endless running. Confusion building into fear, as in their haste to flee she became separated from her family. The crimson glow of the irascible, baleful hound of the heavens, raining destruction down below as he revealed himself for what he truly was.

And then she awoke to a changed world, suddenly and horribly alone.

For today, she would allow those thoughts and memories to wash over her. Because she needed to remember. Because she was scared to forget.

Then when it was over she would fold them up, each year with more practiced hands than the last, and pack them away until the next time.

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #1 - Foster

For #ffxivwrite2021

Characters: Fray Myste, Sidurgu Orl, Rielle du Caulignont

It was a starkly silent night, insulated to an almost eerie degree by the bitter, cold snowstorm that had swept through the city that afternoon. After the day of heroics they’d had, such quiet felt absurd. But it wasn’t unwelcome, nor was it unearned.

Fray closed the door behind him, stomping free the snow that had clung to his boots during his short little gallivant around the area. The storm was thankfully winding down now, and it had done its job of covering their mad gaolbreak escapade from their would-be pursuers. No devious knights to be found skulking around their safehouse tonight. Just the crunch of his own boots in snow and quiet, quiet, quiet.

“All’s clear, I take it?” He turned to find Sid leaning easily in the doorway leading to the bedroom in this modest little safehouse, his posture a sharp contrast to the intensity with which he watched him.

Fray removed his helmet with practiced ease, and ran a hand through the disarrayed tight curls of his hair. “Aye, not a peep from our chivalrous friends to be heard.”

“Guess all this damn snow is finally good for something.” Sid pushed away from the doorway with a sigh and joined him in the room proper.

“An unusual ally indeed,” Fray quipped as he set his helmet down amongst the clutter on the room’s single scarred table. He unholstered the longsword at his back and set it leaning against the wall alongside Sid’s own blade. “How’s our guest been, in my absence?”

Sid gave him a sort of half-shrug and crossed his arms over his chest. “Still as quiet as she’s been all day, not that I can blame her after what she’s been through. Did finally manage to get a name out of her, though. Rielle.”

“I see.” His gaze drifted toward the doorway leading into the small bedroom where the girl presumably still remained. One less mystery there. And yet still so many more to be uncovered. Like who had locked her up, and why?

Sid’s voice drew his attention back. “What’s our next move, here? We didn’t exactly have much time for forethought when we came into this, and ‘rescuing kids from cages’ is a lot less cut-and-dry than our usual work.”

“It is indeed.” He tilted his head in contemplation. “There’s still much to be dealt with there, but what comes next is entirely up to her, I suppose.”

This drew a frown from his auri companion. “We can’t take her with us. It’s way too dangerous.”

“And we can’t exactly throw her to the wolves either, now can we? Those knights we clashed with were damn determined to keep her locked up. They’re not going to sit idly by while she’s running about free.”

Sid exhaled a short, frustrated breath and rubbed at his face with one hand. “We got more than we bargained for, storming into this one.”

“What kind of dark knights would we be if we couldn’t keep a single girl safe, hm?” He began to make his way past him to check in on the girl himself, pausing briefly at his side to give Sid’s shoulder a gentle squeeze with one gauntleted hand. They locked eyes, fierce gold meeting the pale limbal glow for no more than a heartbeat. Sid’s expression softens, just slightly, and he follows him into the bedroom.

The flickering lamplight on the bedside table cast the room in a faint, warm glow. The girl sat huddled on the bed—much as she had when he’d left that afternoon—knees pulled up and hugged close to her chest, bundled up in the biggest of their blankets to ward of the chill. Though she wore the same ragged clothes they’d found her imprisoned in (they would have to do something about that, on the morrow), she was cleaned up somewhat now, and appeared slightly more at ease than she had earlier.

She still watched her two rescuers with wary eyes as they entered, huddling deeper into her cocoon of a blanket.

The sight of her brought alight a tumultuous surge of emotions within his chest. Deepest pity, for a child to have to endure such hardship, to be imprisoned as if a criminal and mistreated as such. Seething anger towards the perpetrators of that imprisonment, those who would dare inflict such a cruel thing on the innocent and still dare to call themselves goodly knights or noble administrators of the law.

They roiled within him, an unnamable and yet all too familiar feeling. This was not the first time he had felt such a way, and it would not be the last. Not while there was still work to do.

He kept the feeling expertly hidden away, however, an easy smile on his lips as he sat carefully at the other end of the bed from the girl.

“Hello again… Rielle—is that right?”

She watched him in silence, gaze drifting for a brief moment toward Sidurgu standing near the doorway, before offering him a slow nod and nothing more.

He responded in kind with a nod of his own and another smile. “Well, Rielle, you’ll be glad to know I’ve found no sign of those knights around. You’ll be safe here with us for the night.” He paused, and when no response comes, he continued. “Do you perhaps have family that we might bring you to? Either here or outside of Ishgard proper?”

Rielle watched him, expression unchanging. That same wariness regarded him and he tried to decipher the cause behind it. The trauma was certainly part of it, but there was a nagging part of him that was beginning to be sure she might simply not have an answer for him.

“We ought to get you somewhere safer, preferably with someone you know.” His words remain gentle, but there is some firmness as he prompts further. “Is there anyone—an aunt or an uncle even, or perhaps a friend—that comes to mind?”

Still nothing. Her gaze remained steady on him for only a moment longer, then she hugged her knees closer and turned her head to rest it upon them, looking away from him.

Conversation over, evidently. Well, that was alright. Perhaps this line of inquiry would be better suited for tomorrow, once she finally had the chance to rest.

“Well,” Fray said, giving a brief clap with his gauntleted hands before rising, “we can talk more in the morning, if you’re feeling up for it. Get some rest, young lady. I know we’re not exactly in the lap of luxury here, but it’s a mite bit better than a cage, I’d wager.”

The two men leave her be, pulling the door most of the way closed behind them (she’d had enough of being sequestered away alone, for now) and resumed discussing their next course of action while beginning to unwind for the evening.

Later, as Fray sat in front of the crackling fire in the main room and set aside an empty cup of tea, the sound of light footsteps on the floorboards behind him drew his attention. Rielle, clinging to the blanket draped over her shoulders, made her way over to him with slow steps. She paused at his side for but a moment before settling down to sit beside him, hugging the blanket close. He glanced over to the other side of the room where Sid was fixing himself another cup of tea and found him watching the scene unfold, eyebrows raised.

Fray let the silence settle in around them, and Sid followed suit, turning back to his work. He would let her engage on her own terms. And it turned out to be much quicker than he’d anticipated, as only a few moments later he finally hears her speak for the first time.

“I don’t have anyone to go to.” She didn’t look at him, instead fixing her pale gaze on the flickering shadows cast by the fire on the floorboards in front of her.

He could see in her downcast gaze what lay hidden beneath those words. I don’t want to be alone. That twisting combination of emotions rose within his chest once more.

He put a gentle hand on her back and said, “You have us.”

She turned to regard him, and that quiet intensity from before becomes more appraising. Sid returned with two steaming cups in hand, and carefully settled himself down on the other side of the girl. He offered her one of the cups and she took it with only slight hesitation.

She didn’t drink it, not right away, but instead clutched it close, holding onto that warmth like a lifeline.

[wanderers-shadow]

Finished UCoB last week and with that, finally completed the ol’ triple legend hat trick. So many shiny weapons. Big love to both of my raid groups <3

[wanderers-shadow]

was doing the weekly quest here and thought it’d make a neat backdrop for some shots

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #4 - Clinch

For #FFxivWrite2020

Characters: Tahla Nhavan, Rekha Lihzeh

“You’ll do no such thing.”

The sound of Jinta’s voice rose with a singular clarity above everything else in the camp, and all at once everything seemed to stop. Idle chatter, the clatter of crafting or weapon practice — it all drifted off as the entire clan’s attention turned to the two women standing beside the central campfire. When Tahla’s mother raised her voice, everyone always listened, whether it be in addressing the whole clan or a display of her quiet and constrained ire toward another. Especially, Tahla noted, if the latter was directed at at her aunt Rekha—which was exactly what was happening now. When the matriarch demanded respect, she received it.

And Rekha simply laughed in her face.

“That so? An’ just what d’ye think ye can do to stop me, dear sister? Mm?”

It was a familiar scene, one that was growing more and more in frequency. One would have to be feeling pretty generous to claim that the two women got along even in the best of times, and the strain of recent events certainly wasn’t doing anything to help. Tahla used to find herself conflicted whenever one of these scenes played out, the increasingly fierce grappling of wills between her mother and her aunt. But more and more she was finding herself in support of her aunt’s conflict stirring, despite it putting her further and further into opposition with her mother.  

For someone who had little interest in leadership, Rekha took a great deal of pleasure pushing the limits of both Jinta’s patience and the flexibility of her decrees. One of these days she was going to find those limits, and it was bound to end poorly for all of them.

Her mother did not flinch, merely stood still as a statue, her eyes narrowing near-imperceptibly as she glared daggers at the other woman. Tahla knew this was getting under her skin, but she had always been stubborn about not letting it show in front the others.

“A word from me and you’ll no longer call this clan home.” To any other, a chilling threat. But she was unfazed.

“Ye know ye rely on me too much for that.” Rekha grinned and leaned in closer, voice dropping down somewhat. Tahla had to strain to hear what came next over the crackling of the fire, and only managed it by virtue of being mere feet away. “And even if that weren’t the case, we both know ye wouldn’t have the heart.” And then she broke her gaze away and glanced at Tahla for one, two seconds. Her mother followed her gaze to her, and their eyes locked for what felt like a small eternity. Tahla fought the urge to shrink back from that severe look like she always had when she was younger, instead holding her gaze steady and simply frowning.

Something about that had broken something in her mother’s defenses, betrayed only by the slightest furrow in her brows and a twitch in her ears—a fact that did not escape her aunt when their attention returned to one another. With a triumphant smirk, she patted Jinta on the shoulder in a showing of mock-camaraderie.

“I’m off to scout, as agreed. And if I happen t’ run into trouble,” she said, turning and beginning to walk away, “so be it.”

“Rekha.”

She paused at her name just briefly, casting a glance back over her shoulder and rolling her eyes. “I ain’t gonna roll over for the likes of them, no matter how many times ye ask. But don’t worry, sis, I know my limits. And the limits of the clan.”

And with that she was off into the dark of the evening woods, leaving the heavy air of the camp behind.

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #3 - Muster

For #FFxivWrite2020

Character: Arigh Himaa

There was a veritable buzz of activity inside and outside the tribe’s current camp. People and animals in a constant state of motion that made the tribe itself feel like a living, breathing thing. Awash with an intensity, an electricity that only really manifested on the eve of battle. The kind that had an near-imperceptible undercurrent of fear and anxiety that served only to amplify the frenzied excitement that stood at the forefront like a stampeding herd.

Arigh thrived in it. Reveled in the feeling that only the onset of battle could bring. He only wished his brother still felt the same.

He sought out his twin where he stood watching some of their horses being prepared for the upcoming siege, and pushed a drinking skin that was plump with alcohol into his hands.“Here, drink. Let it warm you and stoke that battle fire, eh?”

His brother tried to hide the severe expression he had been sporting moments ago, but managed only to tone it down into something more somber.

He scrutinized Suren’s taciturn expression as he wordlessly took a swig of the proffered drink. While his twin had never quite attuned to the same sort of battle high that he did, he could still get quite swept up in it. He just needed a little push to get there.

But it seemed to be becoming harder and harder these days, and his furrowed brow now signaled that that was much the case today. Together they watched the bustle of the other preparing warriors for a few silent moments until Suren finally found the words he was searching for.

“I hate getting swept up in all this. Oh, don’t give me that,” he chided when Arigh rolled his eyes. “You make a show of how much you love the thrill of battle in the moment, but I’ve seen you afterwards. You know you can’t hide anything from me. It’s starting to get to you as much as it is me, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Arigh huffed a sigh and averted his gaze from his twin. He hated how perceptive he could be sometimes. While he could lose himself in the thick of combat, it was the moments after, whether victory or defeat, that were beginning to feel hollow. And it was largely due to his twin’s growing apathy, though trying to confront him on that seemed ill-advised right now.  

“We’re warriors, and it’s our duty to the tribe. We don’t have a choice in the matter. So why not enjoy it while we’re out there?”

“Arigh…”

“I need you, Suren.” He turned to face his brother again. “You know I’m hardly worth half a shit out there without you by my side.”

“Oh, please,” his twin said, voice trying to carry a stern edge that was blunted by the grin teasing at the corner of his lips. “You’re way more of a fiend out there than I am.”

“Because you lend me your strength, and I lend you mine. You’re a fiend and a half yourself out there, and don’t you deny it.”

Suren didn’t respond, just ran a hand through his hair and took another drink.

“We ride together, we fight together, we win together.” Arigh reached out a hand and gave his sibling’s shoulder a tight squeeze, and followed it up with a little shake. “Right?”

Suren took a moment to watch the steady movements of the rest of the Himaa tribe around them, and when he turned back to him, he could see that his motivation had clicked back into place, if only for now. “Right.”

Arigh grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, then snatched the skin back and took a swig himself, letting the burn of the drink rile him up.

“Let’s go raise some hell.”

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #2 - Sway

For #FFxivWrite2020

Character: Anatoliy Stormclaw

The cramped captain’s quarters were silent, despite the room’s three occupants. Two small lanterns lit the space, plenty enough for the well-dressed hrothgar man at the sturdy old desk to work by. Taking stock of the former captain’s notes—a huyran man who now sat bound to an old wooden chair in front of the desk, arms tied securely behind the back of the chair. He was dazed and not quite fully conscious, care of a head wound that left a streak of blood trailing down the side of his face. He slumped slightly forward, chestnut hair falling loosely in his face. Anatoliy looked up from his work at the desk, amber eyes drifting first to the unresponsive captive and then toward the doorway to his left where the room’s third occupant stood, looking bored out of her mind. He offered his crewmate—a solidly built woman with short dark hair and a darker expression—a somewhat apologetic smile that she rolled her eyes at.

He laughed and sat back, letting his gaze wander the rest of the room once again. It was a quaint little space, but Anatoliy could appreciate it for that. One did not necessarily need ostentatious surroundings when hard at work. Too much of that for too long could get to a man’s head. No, no, carefully considered austerity was good to maintain a clear focus. With only the creaking of the ship on the waves and the light pattering of the rain upon the windows behind him, it was an ideal little workspace.

“…you godsdamned whoreson.”

Ah. Well, all good things must meet their end. It seemed his guest had awoken.

“Ah, you’ve finally come to,” Anatoliy said, setting aside the documents and sitting up a little straighter. “My apologies for the blow to the head. We wanted to have a word with you, but Freya here doesn’t seem to quite know her own strength.” The woman in question fixed him with a glare from the other side of the room and offered a sharply uttered Hey! The hrothgar captain simply shrugged and waved his hand in a conciliatory gesture, which transformed a bit of her scowl into a smirk. “It’s no way to treat a guest, I know.”

“Guest?!” the captive man cried in disbelief, fixing Anatoliy with a look that one would normally reserve for a rat skittering around underfoot. “I’m the captain of this ship. If you think—”

“Captains are the ones who hold the power on a vessel,” Anatoliy interjected, standing from his seat and with a leisurely gait brought himself to stand before his guest. “And from where I stand…” He paused, pulling the rapier free from its place at his side and very gently tucked the tip of the blade under the man’s chin and lifted his head so that he would face him in earnest. “The one in power here is certainly not you.”

He stiffened imperceptibly, and despite still looking disgusted at the sight of him, he had no immediate rebuttal. It was always so disappointing to discover that one’s bravado was only for show when faced with their own mortality.

“Royce Aldridge, former captain of The Windsong. You seem to have found yourself in quite the predicament. Yet I am a reasonable man—”

“Reasonable men don’t sack and loot other men’s ships.”

“Neither do they continuously steal from their employers while lying about it to line their own pockets.”

The defiant look of disgust Royce had been sporting begun to fade, his eyes widening in the slow dawning of realization.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. It was an admirable attempt to feed your avarice, for one unwilling to get his hands dirty.” Anatoliy took a step back, dropping his sword arm to his side, the point of his weapon now angled downward in a relaxed posture. It did not seem to put his guest at ease. A pity. “But you were sloppy. Getting more brazen as the months dragged on. Someone was bound to notice, to put two and two together.”

Royce dropped his head with a bitter laugh, leaning as far forward as his constraints would allow. “So they found out and thought to hire pirates to get rid of me without implicating themselves.” He raised his head back up and looked Anatoliy in the eyes. “How much did they pay you, then? Hmm? How little did they deem my life worth?”

“No, no, my friend,” he said, the words very slightly edged with a laugh. “No one paid me a thing. You see, when you don’t cover your tracks well enough, word gets around. Enterprising gentleman like myself always keep an ear out for tantalizing little rumors like that. And we’re certain to do a little digging to see if it’s worth our while.” With that, he gives a sharp nod to the hyuran woman idling by the doorway. She pushed off from her spot against the wall with a laziness that belied her grace, and slipped through the doorway. She returned only a moment later with a sea wolf man on her heels. He was dressed in well-worn seaman’s clothes, with hair long enough to pull back into a thick ponytail and beard to match.

This fourth occupant came to a halt at his once-captain’s side and sneered down at him. The captive man gave him a scowl in return.

“You backstabbing little shite—”

“Ah, shut yer gob. Ye had it coming.”

“Your man here,” Anatoliy said, before their bickering could get out of hand, “was getting quite fed up with how little he was getting paid while you continued to squirrel away more and more of value all for yourself. Bit hard to keep the secret of which out of the way little isle you were storing your stash of goods on when those sworn to keep it had little motivation to do so.

“A truly tragic mistake to make as a leader, so let me give you a little advice. There’s one simple rule to first consider when captaining your own vessel for illicit ends: find those you can trust,” he said, clapping the roegadyn on the shoulder with his free hand and offering him a broad and amicable smile. When the burly man responded to the gesture by flashing a boisterous grin to his bound and bloody former-captain, Anatoliy did not miss a beat in spearing him effortlessly through the gut with his rapier. “…And weed out those you cannot.”

The pained grunt of surprise that spilled forth from the sea wolf’s lips was certainly the least elegant sound he had the displeasure of hearing in quite some time, and his features contorted into something halfway between shock and agony. The traitorous deckhand grabbed at the guard of the weapon pressing into him, but Anatoliy was more focused on his other hand—the one fumbling for the knife belted at his side. Anatoliy gave him a chiding tsk, tsk and wrenched the blade from his fumbling fingers with unexpected ease, tossing it to the side like a piece of rubbish. In that moment where his victim’s attention was split between his blade and the growing blossom of scarlet upon his belly, the hrothgar seized the opportunity to hook his foot behind his ankle and yank it forward. In one swift motion he pushed inward with his rapier to unbalance him enough to send him careening to the floor, yanking the blade free in an arc of scarlet droplets as he went down.

He paid no heed to the pained noises the man made as he floundered quite pitifully to regain his senses, stepping over his arm to place his boot squarely on his neck. His floundering found more purpose now, hands scrambling to find enough purchase to attempt to push him off, but the pirate captain responded by putting more weight on him. His scrabbling grew more desperate as his face began to darken.

“What in the seven hells, man?” Royce struggled—quite futilely—against his bonds as he watched the scene unfold. “Was he not your ally? Have you no honor?”

Anatoliy met Royce’s gaze and held it steady, looking for all the world like he was enjoying a pleasant conversation with an old friend and not pressing the life out of a squirming, soon-to-be corpse. Funny how he would chide him for his piracy one moment, then act shocked at his so-called lack of decorum in the next. But it was no matter. “It was astonishing how simple of a bribe it took to get your man here to sell out your little operation. Honestly, I’m amazed he didn’t turn on you sooner.”

Soon the ill-fated crewman’s struggles faded to nothing, his arms dropping. He leaned down and wiped his rapier clean on a yet-unbloodied part of the man’s vest. Then he returned the weapon to its place at his side and fixed Royce with a steady gaze.

“I told you before—I am a reasonable man. I come to you with an offer.”

The bound man scoffed. “An offer much like you gave him? Look, if you’re going to kill me, get it over with. I don’t appreciate being toyed with.”

“He was an untrustworthy cretin who outlived his usefulness.” Anatoliy leaned against the old wooden desk, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “What I come to you with is a business proposal, a mutually beneficial one. If you’re unwilling, I would be more than happy to strike you down now and travel on with your ship and your stash of coin and goods as my prize. But if you yet value your life, you would do well to hear me out.”

For a long, drawn out few moments, Royce watched the way the blood pooling around the still warm corpse drifted back and forth upon the floorboards in time with the ponderous rocking of the ship. Finally, he sighed.

“Alright. I’m listening.”

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #1 - Crux

For #FFxivWrite2020

Characters: Tahla Nhavan

The unknown, Tahla had come to realize, never seemed all that daunting until it was staring you right in the face.

She didn’t quite grasp the full implications of what she had agreed to until this very moment, standing amongst the crew of a small trading caravan on the outskirts of Gridania. One that was bound not only for the seemingly far-off lands of Thanalan, but specifically the bustling city of Ul’dah itself. For a girl who had not stepped foot outside the shaded quiet of the Shroud in all her fourteen winters, it was a terrifying prospect.

Growing up, Tahla had always liked to consider herself brave enough to face any strange and new experience to come her way without any sign of hesitation. She’d always been something of a rowdy and defiant child, even if it had taken on a taciturn edge as she’d gotten older. Now, though, in this moment with infinite possibility standing before her? The mere thought of the world at large seemed like the most horrifying thing she could ever face, something that loomed over her, taller than the trees all around them.

The chance encounter she’d had with the merchant T’rhel was the first time she’d felt something other than numb despair since the day the moon fell and wrought an irrevocable change upon her life. The man had been a trading partner with her clan as long as Tahla could remember, now stylizing himself as something of a family friend, perhaps out of pity after seeing just how pathetic and alone the girl now was. He pried the sorry tale of what had become of her over a warm cup of tea and a sweet roll she picked at more than ate, and then after a drawn out moment of silent contemplation, offered to take her back to Ul’dah with him to live amongst his family. Wouldn’t it be better to have warm meals and a roof over her head than the cold and lonely nights she’d been enduring?

It seemed ridiculous. Tahla, leave the Shroud? Leave the life of quiet travel and hunt-filled nights that she always assumed would be her constant? Everything she had ever loved amongst her family? The family that was dead and gone after the red hound of the heavens descended to ravage their home. (They’re only missing, she’d plead to no one in particular whenever faced with it. She can’t have been the only one to survive, she can’t.)

She accepted his offer with nary an argument.

Now she was here, mere days later and suddenly afraid she was making a terrible mistake leaving everything behind, including her fruitless search for any surviving family. Would they think she was abandoning them, wherever they were?

She fretfully noticed that she had begun to cry, standing beside a handful of crates the hired hands had yet to load into their caravan. Without giving it much thought, she took off for the tree line in an attempt to seize a few private moments to regain her composure. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this, like the sad, pathetic child that she was. As she leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, out of sight from her would-be travel companions, she squeezed her eyes shut as if it would stymie her tears. She forced herself to take a few slow, deep breaths when this proved ineffective, and tried her damnedest to banish anymore thoughts of family and of home and forced herself instead to focus on quiet, whispered prayers. Pleading first to Menphina, then to Oschon in an attempt to steel her resolve for what lie ahead.

After what felt like an eternity, Tahla finally wrestled her tears into submission. She would be lying if she were to say she felt better, but at least after hastily wiping her eyes on her sleeve and one last deep breath, she was more presentable. She came out from hiding, not returning to the bustle of the caravan but lingering on the roadside near the trees, unsure of what to do and afraid to get in the way. In an effort to combat her nerves she focused on the movements of the workers and the bored way their hired spearman made laps around the wagons in an attempt to look vaguely busy.

“Come, girl,” T’rhel called, the sudden boom of his voice startling her from the mire of her thoughts. “We’re to be on the road momentarily.”

The scant composure she had managed to scrounge back up left her in an abrupt rush. She went still as a statue, heart thundering in her chest as she watched the man beckon to her with an expectant wave of his arm.

She didn’t have to do this. It was too much. Tahla belonged here in the Shroud and to pretend otherwise was nothing but folly. She could turn around right now, run deep into the woods and not look back. Gods, did that tempt her so.

But what would that get her? Clinging to familiar surrounds in exchange for more of the aching loneliness that plagued her the last six months, to be haunted by ghosts of everything she had so recently lost? For months now she’d held onto hope with a vise grip, desperate for something to keep her afloat in a world that now seemed to strange and cold now that she was alone. Yet the longer she held on, the more she realized that that hope had turned to despair without her notice, now a burden that only grew more heavy with each passing day. She couldn’t carry it any longer. Not on her own, not like this. Isn't that why she had taken up this not-quite-stranger up on his generous offer?

This had to be done. With what felt like gargantuan effort, she willed herself to put one foot in front of the other. She clambered into the back of the caravan and hugged her knees close to her chest. When the rumble of the wagon finally signaled their departure, she shut her eyes to the journey to come.

[wanderers-shadow]

HEY, SO, I DID A THING —

From a suggestion given to me by @otolin-xiv, especially in regards to our WoL verse(s), I decided to put together my own 30-day writing challenge for my friends and anyone in the wider community who might be interested. Aka, there are many writing challenges out there; this is mine.

Some quick things to note:

Your character does not need to be a WoL to participate; however, myself and a handful of other people will be using it for that purpose to expand on our character(s) WoL verses.

There are no prizes at the end because I am not artistic in the slightest.

There is no order to which you need to do the prompts! You can also sub in different words if one doesn’t vibe with you, as well as skip days. This is a personal challenge to encourage people to write.

Length of a prompt doesn’t matter! Write twenty or two thousand words.

The start date of this challenge is from today (3rd May) and will run until next month (June 2nd)

Use the tag #seaswolchallenge so I can see what you have written! I’ll likely reblog it to this blog @gatheredfates OR a side blog depending on how popular it gets.

Similarly, if enough interest is generated, I might just make this a monthly thing.

(these notes may be updated if I think of anything else but, for now, they’re solid)

Feel free to reblog this and tag your friends who might be interested – happy writing!

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #10 - Foster

For #FFxivWrite2019

Characters: Tahla Nhavan and Rekha Lihzeh

“Don’t we usually take the path down near the stream?” Tahla asked, glancing about as she led their pack chocobo along an unfamiliar route through the forest. A few paces ahead, her aunt Rekha led the way with the usual confident surety in her step. They were supposed to be making a detour to a small outpost to offload some of their less-than-legal goods before rendezvousing with the rest of the clan at the Trapper’s League moot. She’d only made this particular journey a handful of times (only recently reaching the age where her mother would allow it), but she was certain they were traveling off the usual trail. Rekha slowed her pace long enough to fall into step alongside the girl.

“Caught sight of some Wailers prowling those trails just last week. We ain’t got the time for a scuffle, and I’m not feeling charitable enough to avoid one should our paths cross.”

Tahla would be hard pressed to recall any instance in which her aunt was ‘charitable’ enough to not pick a fight with the Wailers, perhaps save for when her mother was around to hold her back. And since it was just the two of them on this little trek, there would be nothing to stand in her way.

Perhaps it was for the best. While Tahla didn’t feel strongly one way or another about fighting the Wailers quite yet (much to her mother’s displeasure), running across any of them now would something of a risk. She didn’t doubt that her aunt would be up to the task of protecting her—instead she worried about being able to defend herself. As small as she still was, fighting wasn’t in the cards, and her skill with a bow was more suited to hunting than something more confrontational. She wouldn’t want to be a burden.

The girl reached into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a long object secured in cloth. Unwrapping it revealed a blade gifted to her by her aunt on her last name day, one that was larger than a typical knife but too short to be rightly called a dagger. She experimentally swung it before her a few times as if striking an imaginary foe, Rekha watching her appraisingly.

“You’ll still teach me how to use this, right?” she asked, looking up to meet her aunt’s gaze. “Once we meet back up with the clan, I mean.”

“Ha! Eager to carve someone up, are we?”

The girl blushed, ears pulling back as she shook her head in protest. “Yer always saying we should be ready to defend ourselves…”

“Glad yer takin’ the right lessons to heart, girl.” Rekha grinned, reaching over to affectionately ruffle Tahla’s hair. She pulled away as if annoyed, but she couldn’t help the smile springing to her features at the praise. “Don’t rightly think I’ll have too much to teach ya with that thing,” she admitted, glancing back down at Tahla. “A bow’s always fit a little more snugly in these hands. But it’s about time I followed up on that promise I made when I gave ya the thing, yeah?”

The reminder of the promise got Tahla beaming in response, nodding eagerly. Moments like these worked to endear the girl more and more to her aunt. While her mother was becoming increasingly strict with her, at times overbearing in her protectiveness, her aunt taught her new things and gave her the freedom she craved more and more every day. These trips in particular were becoming a favorite of hers, when it was just the two of them.

Their trek forward took a bit longer than it typically did, now that they were forced into a detour. That in itself wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the terrain here was less than ideal while they were in the midst of a rainy season. Their feathered companion didn’t seem too eager go this way, and it took some coaxing to get the old chocobo to continue forward through the somewhat marshy path ahead. This was definitely a much worse route than their usual one. Tahla sighed as she led the bird along. “Wish we din’t have to go through all this trouble just to avoid ‘em, though.”

A scowl darkens Rekha’s face. “It’s a godsdamned travesty that we’re forced to bow and scrape to the likes of them. No one knows these woods better than us Keepers, yet they dare try to force their laws on us as if we haven’t lived here for generations and generations.” She spits off to the side, punctuating her disgust. “Jinta thinks if she can avoid them long enough, they’ll leave us alone.” She placed a hand on Tahla’s shoulder, gaze stern as their eyes meet. “Don’t be a naive fool like yer mother, Tahla. The Wailers have made their minds up about us, and no cowering at the sight of them’ll change that fact. Never trust ‘em, and never keep your guard down around ‘em.”

Tahla gripped the blade in her hand tighter and nodded, determined to take the latest of her aunt’s lessons to heart.

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #9 - Hesitate

For #FFxivWrite2019

Character: Tahla Nhavan

As she stood in the deep blue glow of the beastman aetherite, Tahla was certain her heart was going to pound right out of her chest.

This was mad, the whole godsdamned plan. Barging into the heart of the Kobold home to pick a fight with a god—a god who, she reminded herself, had taken out nearly an entire company of aptly-named heroes the last time he had manifested from the aether. And now she was supposed to go in there alone. She wasn’t a hero. She wasn’t anyone. Just a lost hunter who had picked up adventuring to make ends meet. One who got herself tangled up in one hell of a mess, it seemed.

Was this how she was destined to die? Deep beneath the earth in some beastman stronghold, malms and malms away from the comfort of her true home?

Menphina watch over me, she pleaded as she stared up at the crooked angles of the unrefined aetherite, in truth only half-listening to Y’shtola as she explained their plan of action.

There was no turning back now. As much as she would love to simply turn tail and run, the thought of such cowardice made her skin crawl. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she backed down now. This may have been borderline suicidal, but who could possibly take her place? Titan could not be suffered to remain for long, and no one else stood at the ready to take to the field in her stead. No one else had her supposed gifts.

Gods, her heart would not stop pounding.

Tahla wrapped her hands around the hilts of both the daggers strapped to her waist, partly to ground herself and partly to hide the way her hands were beginning to tremble. She’d slain one primal before. She had to remember that. This one might be stronger than the last, but she too had grown in strength since then. If she didn’t seize a hold of her confidence now, this entire venture would be doomed to failure from the start.

Finally, she took a long, slow steadying breath. Now or never. She nodded to her Scion companion, whispered one last prayer to her patron Deity, then reached out to activate the aetherite and send herself headlong into the realm of an angry god.

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #6 - First Steps

For #FFxivWrite2019

Characters: Tahla Nhavan and T’akinah Rhel

Here in this vast desert, stranded from everything once comforting and familiar, T’akinah was her oasis.

Gods, it sounded so trite to think of it like that, but Tahla couldn’t deny the truth of it.

She never would have believed it possible to feel so alone in a city like Ul’dah, where the streets were bustling at nearly any time of day. To the Keeper girl, so used to the quiet solitude of the Shroud, it was nearly overwhelming how lively it could be. The contrast of the city to her forest home was so stark that she couldn’t help but feel like the outsider she was, day in and day out, unsure of what sort of niche she could carve out for herself in such a foreign world.

Things were… different when she was with T’akinah. Not in some earth-shatteringly remarkable way, no, but something more subtle, easy. And perhaps that was just what she needed, the perfect anchor for a quiet and displaced new arrival. At first Tahla wondered if it was just a kinship easily forged with someone around her own age. As the weeks spent in her new home drew on, however, that seemed less and less to be the case; she met many would-be peers, but none save T’akinah had managed to really break through her shell.

She was an outgoing one, T’akinah, but not in any sort of overbearing way. She had taken an interest in the sudden new addition to her family’s home, but never pried, never demanded anything more than Tahla was willing to give. She offered space when she needed it, or a silent companion when words failed her but the thought of being alone was too much to bare. And she was simply charming, in her own way. Full of such a warm cheer and zest for life. Always ready with a compliment for any she should meet, and so attentive to the words of others. Most charming, perhaps, was the glint in her eye when she pried tales of daring and heroism from the gladiators and adventurers who filled the city.

And gods, she was beautiful.

It was no wonder Tahla had become smitten. It was almost unfair how easily she had reeled her in.

As T’akinah led her by the hand through the market streets one evening as the sun began to dip past the horizon, it all just seemed to coalesce. Their stroll came to a natural pause at the base of a fountain, T’akinah caught up in a tale of her dreams for the future, eyes alight with excitement. And there was something in that moment, something that just drew Tahla in. Before she could think, before she could stop herself, she pulled her in for a kiss. It was simple, light—teasing at the possibility for more. She lingered for but a moment before pulling away slowly, willing herself to meet the Seeker girl’s gaze with all the confidence she could muster despite how loudly her heart seemed to pound in her chest.

Those next few seconds seemed to linger for an eternity, T’akinah caught in a moment of surprise. But then there it was, her smile, so radiant that Tahla could have sworn their surroundings were brighter for it. And then she reached out with her free hand to gently pull Tahla in and offer a kiss of her own in return.

They snuck out of the city that night at Aki’s behest, venturing into the outskirts of town to a hilltop plateau that boasted a magnificent view of the night sky. There they watched the stars, away from the commotion of the city, just the two of them leaning into one another to ward off the night’s chill.

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #5 - Vault

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast ‘s #FFxivWrite2019

Characters: Rielle de Caulignont and Sidurgu Orl

It hadn’t been the same since Fray left.

Silence often loomed between them, a stark spectre in place of their trusted companion. Not that the two of them had ever been much of the talkative sort, but the silences seemed so much heavier now, stretching out for an eternity without Fray there to bridge the gap.

Sometimes Rielle didn’t mind it. Sometimes the grief made words too much to bear. And the silent grieving was preferable to the days when Sid was incensed with a fiery rage that would make the Fury herself jealous of its intensity. Those were the days that worried her, not out of fear that he would raise a hand to her, but because there lingered the possibility that it would lead him to something reckless. In his line of work, that was a recipe for disaster.

But if she ever tried to pry a little, to get him to lay bare what was on his mind, she was always met with gruff rebuttals. Yet as much as it frustrated her, she couldn’t bring herself to push the issue too far. Because what if he turned the tables on her? Decided to dig deeper into the real reason behind the Temple Knights’ pursuit of her? She couldn’t bear to think about it, much less say it aloud.

They were an odd pair, dancing around the fact that they each had secrets locked tight in their hearts.

Yet despite this, they depended on one another. Sid wouldn’t say it, but she could tell he was glad for the companionship. Some days that seemed less true than others. Like he almost kept her around as an excuse—a living, breathing justification for his want of bloodshed. But she could see it in small moments, subtle gestures. The way the tension seemed to leave his shoulders, just slightly, when she sat alongside him by the fire on particularly cold nights. Or the way he’d taken note of her fondness for sweet cider and would, when the opportunity presented itself, wordlessly go out of his way to treat her to some.

And without him she would be lost, at the mercy of Knights who were willing to see a young girl with no way of defending herself as an undesirable threat.

They didn’t know what to make of one another much of the time, but all they had was each other now. It had to be enough.

Rielle contemplated this as she sat beside the crackling hearth in their drafty inn room, watching as Sid strapped his weapon to his back, preparing himself for another outing. One without her, judging from the fact that he wasn’t hassling her to get ready as well.

“Where are you going?” she asked, causing him to stop short.

Sid hesitated in the doorway, turning to look at her for one long, drawn out moment. Rielle let herself believe this might be one of the rare times he confided in her, trusted her with some information, anything at all about what he was doing in order to lend some relief to her worries. But he simply reached one hand up to tap the hilt of his greatsword before turning to leave, silent as always when it was most important. She should have known better.

“I won’t be long. Keep the door locked until I return.”

And then he’s gone, leaving her with nothing but fear that he might meet the same fate as Fray, and she’d be left all alone again.

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #4 - Shifting Blame

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ ‘s #FFxivWrite2019

Characters: Jinta’a and Tahla Nhavan

“Jin, Jin! Wake up!”

Tiny hands shook the boy from his slumber. Jinta’a groaned and rolled over onto his side, none too pleased with his sudden awakening. Maybe if he laid here long enough, his sister would find something better to do than bother him.

Evidently unwilling to leave him to his napping, Tahla continued her pestering, this time giving him a hearty shove. Had he had this much energy when he was only five winters old? “Please, Jin! Mama’s gonna be so mad…” 

That got his attention. He grumbled as he sat up, wondering what sort of trouble the kit had gotten into this time. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he caught sight of the faint light of early dawn drifting down though the canopy. Gods, was it daylight already? He’d only meant to take a quick nap…

But worries of oversleeping were quickly discarded the moment he shifted his attention to his younger sibling. Dark ink covered her hands and arms in uneven splotches, and she had somehow even managed to get some on the side of her face. He reached out for one of her hands to look it over, and only then noticed that the ink was still wet. And that she had managed to get it all over his arm and shirt when she woke him up.

“Menphina be good… Tahla, what did you do?”

The girl’s ears fold back and she shrunk away from him, and it’s only then that he noticed the tears in her eyes threatening to brim over. “I-I din’t mean to…”

He backpedals, giving her hand a placating squeeze. “Ah, no tears, alright? Just, uh… just show me what happened, yeah?”

She nodded her assent with a sniffle, and as she led him along, he managed to get an explanation out of her. Evidently she had been trying to play at hunting after spotting a nutkin near one of their tents, chasing the poor thing around camp right up until the creature had leapt up and over their mother’s trunk. Tahla then scrambled over after it, heedless of the open ink bottle stacked on top of the trunk along with some of their mother’s parchment and tomes.

The scene was a mess, ink smeared across the top of the wooden trunk and seeping into the parchment and one of the books. Tahla must have tried to clean the mess up with her hands, only to make it worse. Jinta’a sighed, lifting up the ink-stained tome. Gods, their father had given her that tome. Mama really was going to have their hides for this.

“Can you fix it?” Tahla asked, staring up at him with all too hopeful eyes.

“Ain’t any way of gettin’ ink out of pages, far as I know.” The girl looked absolutely crestfallen to hear it, and Jinta’a sighed, crouching down to be at eye level with her. “Look, I’ll see what I can do. You need to clean yerself up, though. Remember where that stream is, just outside o’ camp?” She nods. “Good. Go get washed up. Face too.” He poked her ink-stained cheek. She batted his hand away, but ran off to do as she was told.

He stood back up and glanced around. The camp was silent, the rest of the clan out on the hunt or scouting the area. Considering dawn had already snuck up on him, they would likely be returning any time now. Jinta’a was supposed to have stayed behind to keep an eye on the kit. He’d made a fine job of that, all right.

The boy gave another sigh, then hurried to work. He scrounged up an old, worn out cloth from their supplies and begun to dab at the excess ink marring the pages of the book. When this turned out to almost smear the ink even more, he set the book aside in frustration. Instead he turned his attention to scrubbing the lid of the trunk before the stains could set any further.

Before long, he could hear the jovial voices of their hunting party returning to camp, his mother among them. He looked over the half-cleaned mess and then back to the approaching hunters, feeling his stomach drop. His ears pulled back in worry the moment his mother caught sight of him, a frown upon her stern features.

That frown only seemed to deepen as she approached, looking over the scene before her. The moment her eyes caught sight of her ruined tome, her expression immediately shifted to one of anger. She quickly closed the gap between them, grabbing Jinta’a by the scruff of his shirt and pulling him up to standing height.

“What have you done, boy?” He’d forgotten just how frightening his mother could be when she wanted to be.

“I.. I, uh—” His eyes dart away, not able to meet her gaze. The handful of aunts and sisters who had returned from the hunt with her now stood watching the scene unfold with expressions varying from concerned to amused. And then he noticed Tahla standing on the edge of camp, having just returned and looking like she wanted to run and hide at the sight of their incensed mother. He knew what he needed to do.

He finally looked back to his mother, his determination giving him some courage. “I… I was practicing with my spear in camp while you were gone. Didn’t see how close I was to yer stuff and… knocked it over.”

Needless to say, she was not pleased.

Later, Jinta’a sat perched on a thick branch of an old tree outside of camp, watching the late morning sun’s rays filter down through the leaves in sullen silence. The boy usually wasn’t fond of spending time alone, but the thought of going back to camp to get yelled at some more sounded even worse. Still, it was getting late. Maybe he could slip in unnoticed when everyone was asleep.

A sudden shuffling noise stirred him from his thoughts, and he was startled to suddenly find Tahla’s little head pop up next to him as she tried to scramble up the tree to join him. He reached out to give her a hand, pulling her up into his lap and frowning.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, kit?”

“Not tired,” she responds with a pout, but the way she slumped against his chest told another story. They sit together for a few silent moments before Tahla finally speaks up again, voice quiet and hesitant. “Why’d ya lie to mama?”

He made a low, thoughtful noise, tilting his head to the side to glance at her. Then he grinned and reached out to tug teasingly at her ponytail. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for little troublemakers like you.”

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #3 - Lost

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast ‘s #FFxivWrite2019

Character: Y’shtola Rhul

Panic was not a feeling Y’shtola was accustomed to.

Bullheaded obstinacy? A constant companion. Confidence, and tenacity, and an insatiable curiosity? With her always. Even in the most dire of circumstances, the Archon was ever known to keep a level head. But fear and its cohorts—those have ever been strangers to her.

And so, when she opened her eyes for the first time in moons to find only darkness awaiting her, the swell of dread washing over her was not something she was prepared for. She blinked once, then twice, as if it were simply some haze she could shake off. When the cold, unflinching blackness remained, not even giving hint to the faintest of moonbeams trickling into a night-shrouded room, that dread began to solidify into a knot in the pit of her stomach.

Oh dear.

“Shtola…? Oh, thank the Twelve.” A voice, one that was comforting in its familiarity. Her sister. She turned her head toward the voice on instinct, but of course found nothing but darkness there to greet her. “Please, fetch the chirurgeon,” Y’mhitra continued, a request for, presumably, another occupant of the room. No response followed, save for the shuffling of footfalls and and the steady click-clack of a door opening and closing.

Y’shtola shut her eyes once again, summoning the bulk of her willpower to not betray her building panic to her sister. She realized belatedly that she had grasped the sheets around her in tight fists in her worry. She took a steadying breath and loosened her grip, trying to reign in her scattered thoughts amongst her panic.

“You’re lucky to return to us in one piece,” Y’mhitra said, the words themselves a gentle admonishment lightened with a thankful ring. The bed shifts slightly as she sat down on its edge alongside her, and the comforting touch of her sister’s hand reaching out to grasp her own followed.

Return…? She willed herself to focus instead on pulling her memories to the surface. Ul’dah, at the banquet. The chase into the waterway. A desperate bid upon forbidden magicks when hope of escape appeared grim. And then… everything and nothing in the same instant. The inexplicable sensation of floating adrift in the lifestream. Trying to navigate through it at first, but quickly she had become caught up in its deep, unflinching currents. Helpless and lost, everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Lucky indeed.” She sat up slowly, Y’mhitra offering a hand on her shoulder to steady her. She reopened her eyes, once again greeted only by darkness.

“How are you feel—Oh.” The question is cut off with a soft gasp. The surprise in her sister’s voice soon gives way to hesitance. “Shtola, your eyes…”

So, there was an outward indication of her new blindness.

“I… may have been a bit rash,” she admited. She waved her hand, uselessly, before her eyes, then squeezed shut them shut once more with a sigh of frustration. “Whether it be from the casting of Flow itself, or my extensive stay in the lifestream, it appears the price to be paid is my vision.”

Her sister was dismayed, and the admonishments that followed were now considerably less gentle. Y’shtola only half-listens—they were the familiar arguments thrown at her by many through the years any time she dared study or mention forbidden magicks. She cared not to entertain them now, least of all. The spell’s use had come at a cost, yes, but it had in the end saved her life. She would have been a fool not to use it. Such spells were dangerous tools, but tools nonetheless.

…Tools that may offer her a solution to her current predicament.

She recalled a theory once read, one that detailed a sight granted purely of aether. It was possible, it said, to burn one’s own aether to see the world on a purely aetherical level. Considering the significant drawbacks such an action would contain, she had mostly dismissed it as a curiosity at the time. But now… She couldn’t afford not to try it. To be sidelined in such a way while there was still so much work to be done to secure the safety of the realm was not something she could abide by. The problems facing them would not stand idly by to wait for her to adapt to her new condition.

So she leaned into her familiar stubbornness, took a deep breath, and reached inward to seize ahold of her aether and set it alight. And strangely, she found that the aetherical manipulation came as easily to her as breathing. Evidently after an extensive journey through the lifestream, Y’shtola found herself now blessed with an intimate familiarity of the intricacies of her own aether.

When she opened her eyes this time, she found the darkness had been banished, replaced instead with the luminosity of the sight of the world in its most fundamental form.

Improvise and adapt. The consequences would simply have to be faced later.

[wanderers-shadow]

Prompt #2 - Bargain

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast ‘s #FFxivWrite2019

Character: Tahla Nhavan

Another night spent in the shadows, spent seeking out her quarry. A silent and watchful hunter, skillfully moving through familiar territory, unnoticed by those she stalked.

Perhaps if she thought of it that way, it almost felt like Tahla never left the Shroud.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. The sordid streets of Ul’dah, comparable at all to the forests of her childhood? No. This was nothing like home and never would be. But it was the hand she was dealt, and tonight she would finally make strides to stack the deck in her favor.

It had been difficult at first to adjust to city life, but the longer she spent here, the more Tahla realized that it was simply another environment to adapt to. And if there was one thing a hunter excelled at, it was adapting. Over time she discovered just the right way to blend in with the crowds, just as she blended in with the trees of her childhood home. These few moons past had provided Tahla with ample opportunity to learn the patterns of the scores of people out on the bustling city streets and, perhaps more importantly, learn the best locations to remain out of sight completely should the need arise.

And she used such newfound skills and knowledge to her advantage tonight.

Tahla sat perched up in the rafters inside a dark warehouse in the one of the older shipping districts along the outskirts of the city. The better part of a bell came and went as she waited, the silent and patient hunter awaiting her prey. A solid week of work led her to where she was now, and she hoped that it had all been worth the effort. Trailing leads had been tiresome work when she had to be extra vigilant to not tip her hand to her employer. She needed a win, just one small triumph to begin the process of loosening the shackles of the supposed debt that kept her here.

Down below there was finally motion, and it broke her from her reverie. The warehouse doors opened just widely enough for a Lalafellin woman and Miqo’te man to make their way in, a small lantern carried by one providing the the only source of light within the building. The dim light was plenty for her sharp Keeper eyes, and she remained still and silent as the two of them pulled down a crate from one of the pallets and proceeded to wait. Another half a bell passed, the pair making small talk to pass the time. Tahla waited it out, half-listening for any pertinent information while studying the two down below, their appearances, their gestures, anything that may prove useful to remember for potential future encounters.

It felt like a small eternity by the time the remaining party arrives—the buyer in this little clandestine transaction. Tahla makes a mental note of the buyer’s features—an older man, Elezen. Dark hair and dark eyes that dart about nervously every minute or so. She recognizes him as a go-between for one of T’Rhel’s usual buyers, though she didn’t recall his name. His presence here was a surprise though, and an important one at that—the man’s employer was supposed to have worked out an exclusive contract with T’Rhel for the purchase of goods smuggled into this part of the city. One of his most lucrative contracts, to be exact.

It seemed her hard work had paid off.

The two already waiting below offered the curtest of greetings before they got straight to work, opening the crate to dig below a few bolts of cloth and produce a long, thin bottle of dark liquid. It was handed over to the buyer, who turned it over in his hands for a moment of silent appraisal before he uncorked it and took a tentative sniff of the contents. The Elezen nodded approvingly and handed the bottle back to the sellers, and proceeded to begin negotiations in earnest.

They were smart enough to keep their voices hushed, much to Tahla’s displeasure. Keen Miqo’te ears aided her in catching most of the conversation, but she had to creep forward as much as she dared to hear more, careful not to move far enough to be caught in the lantern’s small field of light. She had no doubt she could make an easy escape should she get caught, but the Elezen man would likely recognize her and this whole venture would turn out to be for naught. Best she erred on the side of caution, as much as she yearned to glean all the details of the transaction.

Some back and forth haggling began before the buyer finally settles on a price for a score of the bottles and an agreement to continue with the purchase of other goods in the future. She managed to catch the agreed upon price, but not the nature of these other goods. All things considered, a lucky catch. T’Rhel would be all too eager to learn of this.  

Negotiations came to a close just as swiftly as they began and the buyer made his leave first, while the remaining pair stayed behind to finish up their work. Tahla moved farther into the shadowed part of the building as the Miqo’te man produced a dagger to mark a handful of crates now spoken for in the transaction. His partner, meanwhile, made a swift search of the surroundings while he was at work. Tahla remained still, quiet as can be, and managed to remain unnoticed during the woman’s cursory inspection. When they at last departed and the warehouse was once again left in darkness, Tahla at once felt an odd mix of relief and excitement.

She would wait it out here for perhaps another bell or so, then bring the information back to her own employer for a little bartering of her own.