kattloaf

[kattloaf]

Polyphony

Once more Kat found herself in a ruin of a building. Before it had been a dank, dingy basement that tasted faintly of iron. This time it was a much larger room, part of a building that had first exploded, then imploded, leaving rubble strewn across what remained of its interior. Sunlight lanced through the cracks and openings that had been left into the forlorn edifice, providing light enough to see the lines of paint on the floor.

Reaching out, Kat traced her fingers over one of the lines. It had been part of a training circle, as the room had once served as a sparring room. Each circle had represented a neophyte's progress, starting with the largest and working inwards. As they advanced in training, the room afforded them to move and act diminished until they were at the center, where they either failed, or proved their mastery.

Withdrawing her hand, Kat collected herself. The space prepared much as she had before, she drew in a breath, and began to sing.

Slamming into the ground hurt, moreso when you had been thrown there. Acting on instinct rather than thought, she picked herself up slowly, her wastrel form scarcely more than skin and bones. How could she put up any form of defense, commit what she was shown to memory? Her mind was in so many jagged pieces, each ringing out in a deafening cacophony. Beside that screaming maelstrom of confusion and disorder, how could any semblance of clarity prevail? She moved, and was thrown again.

Time had passed, and she had grown. Her form had filled out, largely thanks to having sufficient food, but also as a result of her constant training. She was still thrown, however. Grown she had, but more growth was needed, both outwardly, and inwardly. Her mind, her thoughts, they were still scattered and discordant. So many varied voices all crying out in anguished vibrato. And yet, in rare, rapturous moments, some of those voices paired, forming a... complementary refrain. The moments were brief, but as time passed they became more frequent. Moving again, she was thrown

Still more time gone, and the circle of her training had grown smaller. The howling gale that was her mind had begun to form, like debris settling into mounds after being thrown by the winds. The piles, if they could be deemed such, each formed their own unique range, their own collection of knowledge and purpose as they sang out not in harmony, but in dissonance. She moved, and, after some time, was thrown.

Her circle was smaller. The smallest, in fact, as she faced down her mentor. The dissonance that had taken form had resolved as the voices -there were four- found their ranges. It was, they collectively mused, not unlike an a capella quartet, each voice having its own part to play in the greater work that was Kat's mind. Individually they had their niches, their domains, but they worked in rapid tandem. No single voice took the melody, instead they all took a part of it, and in doing so made something quite possibly greater. From many voices, a single refrain. She fought and, this time, she was not thrown.

Exhausted and hoarse, Kat opened her eyes. Her mind, body, and even soul were wrung out, yet she smiled. The times she'd spent in this room had been hard and painful, full of aches and bruises, even the odd broken bone or dislocation. Still, she found a certain... fondness for those times. Perhaps she was just crazy, who knew?

In her hand she bore a crystal, similar to the others, but utterly unique in its expression. As the ruddy light of the setting sun shone down through a yawning gap in the ceiling on her, the crystal shone with a rippling, scintillating radiance, casting a shimmering blue light that filled the room. The air around the crystal hummed with what, at a quick listen, sounded utterly cacophonous. As more heed was paid, however, the cacophony revealed itself to be united in its refrain, the melody it bore shared over the entire musical range, rather than just one.

Kat smiled anew. "Three down, five to go...."

[kattloaf]

Discord

The Hannish basement was dark and faintly musty. Couple that with the faint, lingering metallic tinge of blood in the air and the fact that the building the basement was attached to was a pile of rubble and you had a wonderful setting. Such was where Kat found herself this time. As before, she isolated herself: no sound would get in or out. She’d also applied an illusion to remain unseen in her work. Breathing in through her nostrils, Kat focused on the smells and sensations the damp air held. The memories they brought forth as she began to sing.

Naked, wet and cold, her every muscle aching in the cramped cask. Water filled the space she didn’t, leaving only the barest gap at the top of the sealed cask for her to gasp desperately for breath. Hours? Minutes? Days? These words had lost meaning as she collapsed into herself. her sanity cracking, then shattering into pieces. This wasn’t her first time in the barrel, and it likely wasn’t the last. Later that night, lying on a dirt floor, she sobbed silently as her mind unravelled. 

Hours later, Kat emerged, another crystal ringing softly in her hand. Unlike the first, this one’s brilliance was tinged with hues of crimson and violet that shot through it like levinbolts. The ringing grated at the ears, and a closer listen revealed why. Where the first crystal had a duet, this had dissonance and cacophony, echoing tones that brought a shiver to the spine and a wince hammered in an arrhythmic spasm. It was discord. The sundering of unity. 

[kattloaf]

Counterpoint

Kat had made her preparations. Guided by her stone and her practice, she’d created a bubble from which sound neither escaped nor entered. She would be in isolation for this. She’d ensured it was bereft of other voices, other lives, save those which she could not, and whose songs were quiet enough to not intrude. She’d prepared no small quantity of ethers, enhanced using the technique Vyalise had demonstrated. She’d need them, likely. And so, like so many wading into waters unknown, she resolved herself... and sang. 

Three hours, a hoarse voice, five ethers and a wrenched soul later, her work was finished. In her hands was a radiant crystal, its brilliance shining from within as its hues shifted from pale green to emerald, chartreuse to aquamarine. So filled with energy it was that it practically vibrated in her palm.

In a sense it did, as the air around it rang a clear tone. At a quick listen, it was merely a tone, pure and concise. To pay it further heed granted further insight, revealing its true nature. It was not a single tone or refrain, but two, delicately and harmoniously interwoven in a serene and profound counterpoint.

It was the first, Kat knew, but not the last. And to draw out the others, she knew, she had to visit the places that resonated of their qualities. Places that held meaning and memory for her. First, however, she needed to rest. She had condensed her very essence, after all, and doing such took no small toll. 

[kattloaf]

Gone.

This has all gone to hell.

Yup.

Such were Kat’s thoughts as she sliced her way through a trio of oncoming soldiers. The work was quick. Efficient. All the time spent in Dravania meditating, practicing, and conditioning had borne fruit. Not as much as she’d desired, but the fact she was able to consider herself no longer ‘mentally unstable’ was something she thought worth the exchange. 

Her linkpearl buzzed. “Courier here. Blowing the last set of charges. Anyone in the machining or assembly workshops needs to get out of there. Now.” The explosion-happy viera sounded… tense. That wasn’t a good sign.

“I’ve got a dozen or so with me. We’re at the landing pad now. Engines will be running inside of three ticks. We leave in five.” That’d be Marius, grumbly as ever. 

Kat looked back at the group of workers, scientists, and engineers she had with her. There were six. She’d started with a group of twenty. “This is Siren. I have six. Taking the long way around the shops to get to y-” An explosion shook the metal walls and floor, sending one of her charges stumbling, two more only saving themselves from the same by bracing against the wall. Courier was good at her job. She’d rigged the whole place to blow once they left, but that required weakening the superstructure beforehand. The explosions to cover their retreat would do that just fine. 

Gathering herself and helping the others, Kat beckoned them onward, falling into a jog. They moved as quickly as a group of injured evacuees could, ducking through weapons and armor testing labs as explosions and small arms fire echoed through the facility. They’d kept their heads down and avoided scrutiny for this long, but nothing lasted forever. Eventually, the fires of chaos and war seek out everyone. And so it had been with this research and development lab. 

As Kat’s group made their way through the back of the facility, Marius and Courier kept giving status reports on the pearl. Marius had their airship ready to fly, he just needed everyone else there. Courier, still sounding tense, was apparently playing a game of ‘hide and go boom’ with the cohort that had beset the lab. It was to cover their retreat, but by the sound of things, it wasn’t going well. There’s only so much that three people can do against several hundred soldiers with warmachina support. 

Twice they came upon groups of soldiers marauding their way through the facility. Twice the group was dispatched by Kat’s blades slicing first through the air, then through their armor. It was a tense, anxious journey they made, but eventually  Kat and her six reached the landing pads. From an exit on the opposite side of the landing pads, Courier came sprinting out of a doorway, the sound of weapons fire echoing as it harried her. This would be close, but they could make it. Courier wouldn’t take long to get to the pad -it was closer to her by several dozen fulms. The only thing that would take time was Kat’s group of evacuees. So, she’d buy time.

Recalling her blades to their sheathes, she unslung the breach-loading grenade launcher at the small of her back, sliding in an incendiary round and waiting for one of the three exits to the landing pads to open. When one did, she fired without a thought, discarded the empty casing, and slotted in another, waiting. She didn’t get a chance to fire a second. 

As she raised the launcher to fire on an opening door, one of the walls flanking the opening erupted in a ball of flame and shrieking metal, the concussive blast knocking Kat flat onto the tarmac. Through the gaping, jagged maw strode something terrible. 

It was a Colossi: tall, imposing, and absolute in its might. The unmistakably ornate armor design, cast in silhouette by the flames at its rear, was a sight that struck… not quite fear, but a deep sense of impending dread in Kat. Scrambling to her feet, she fired the round she’d loaded at the behemoth from the hip. By either luck or skill, the round struck true, exploding on the plated leg of the mechanical monstrosity. It stumbled back a pace, but no further. The lab engineers had done good work, the thing was solid. Too solid. 

Scrambling to her feet, Kat dashed towards the airship. The group of engineers and scientists she’d escorted were nearly there. Only a scant fifteen fulms left. She looked back at the colossi and her blood went cold. Its arm raised, the gauntleted hand shifting as the appendage transitioned into… something. A weapon. It fired.

The next few seconds happened in slow motion for Kat. She had time to notice the soot black smoke contrails of the shells the colossi had fired. How the firing ignition of each round cast a macabre light on the machine’s head and armored face. How, on impact, the air rippled with heat and concussive force before the flames. How a shell struck dead center of her group of evacuees, their clothes and bodies first knocked back, then devoured by flames. It took so long. A lifetime. And yet... It only took a second. 

Another shell impacted near Kat, sending her flying through the air, only to slam into the ground. Her entire body protested painfully at the treatment, her wits thoroughly scrambled.Slowly gaining a tenuous grasp on coherence, the first thing she could hear was Marius screaming into the pearl for her to get on the airship. 

Bruised, bleeding and likely concussed, Kat crawled, then stumbled before finding her way back to her feet. In front of her the airship began to lift off, keeping low as it swung her direction. Limping, as she’d apparently hurt her leg somewhere in the mix, she shuffled close enough for Courier to pull her up onto the airship. The colossi fired another volley, but the airship was built for speed. It missed.

As she watched the rest of the facility blossom into a spectacular display of applied explosives, Kat could only think of one thing, a thought shared between both of her remaining halves. 

We failed them.

[kattloaf]

A Documented Discussion

A note is attached to this document

The following is a dictated transcript of the discussion surrounding our convergence and re-assimilation. For the sake of posterity and the potential for forgetfulness to smooth the rough edges, this prism exists as an auditory record. There are four speakers, who will be referred to as: One (O), Two (T), Three (TH), and Four (F).

TH: I figured it out. 

F: What, how to reintegrate?

TH: Yes! Well, no, not quite, but the end result is similar.

T: Explain.

TH: (excitedly) We’ve been approaching the problem backwards. Rather than bringing two quarters in, we need to expand the other two outward. It solves the issue of mental capacity and space being an issue, and addresses-

T: Slow down. Elaborate. Why is this preferable to assimilation? What are the advantages?

(a pause, TH sighs controlled fashion)

TH: Right. So. When Four, and to a lesser degree myself, had our great… schism, the line that kept Four the objectively dominant psyche was effectively severed. Technically it’s brain damage, but of an incredibly fortuitous sort. When that happened, it took place during a mental and metaphysical….

F: I was having a mental breakdown following being deliberately drowned.

TH: Yes. When that happened, we fractured. Both of us. We didn’t… make the space for you two, it was a result of what happened to us, when it happened to us. That we were able to foster your growth was a benefit of this occurrence. 

O: (quietly) So you didn’t mean for us to exist.

F: We did. Just turns out that the space for you was already there. We’re still broken as a human, but it worked for what we needed.

T: Which was a glorified machine. 

F: More or less.

T: So what’s that mean for us?

TH: (speaking over F) It means that integration need not be so… diminishing. 

O: (quietly) How?

TH: Well, for one, we’re working with the same amount of ‘headspace’, to put a friendly term to what is decidedly a metaphysical concept. 

T: What can -we- (T gestures to herself and O) expect?

TH: (hesitantly) You… will still be gone as personalities. Unfortunately, our being a quartet is what’s causing the emotional feedback loop we’ve been mired in. With two more complete halves, we- 

F: (speaking over TH) This is only out of necessity. I can’t… properly respond to the emotions, nor can Three or Two. You’re the only one able to make an attempt at coping, One, and I know how much it’s hurting you. I… stewarded it all these years. I know  what it’s like.

O: (One nods after a pause)

TH: We’ll still lose our perfect recollection and, appropriately, half our ability to process. We won’t, however, immediately lose entire swaths of memory as we had anticipated. In fact, I expect that with assimilation we will take on elements of each of you. Two parts making a whole, if you will.

T: Meaning I’m pairing with Three.

TH: That was my presumption, but I didn’t want to assume, make decisions for either of you.

T: (to O) You’re content with that, yes?

One: (nods to T) You two match. Me and Four match. It makes sense.

F: It’ll get us a headstart on dealing with all of… this bullshit. We’re both familiar with it. (To TH) When will this start?

TH: I need some time to feel out certain details, and I will have to instruct each of you with how to go about it conceptually, but… as soon as we’re ready to. As bleak as the alternative is, I do want to make sure everyone is still in agreement with this. I wouldn’t dare try to go forward with this without your unanimous consent.

F: Whatever gets us on more even keel. Tired of feeling depressed.

T: It is necessary considering the alternatives. I consent.

O: I don’t want to go away, but I know I need to. For all of us. I can’t do this on my own. 

F: You’re not on your own, kid. We’re just… too compartmentalized like this. I can’t help from here. Not like I want to.

O: I know. Why I’m okay with it. It’s better for us. All of us. Before we do this, I have a request.

TH and F: Of course. 

O: I want to see Para one last time as ‘just’ me. Before… merging. 

F: (gently in tone) We’ll make it happen. I promise.

[kattloaf]

Awakening

  I don’t think we should do this.

Such was Four’s continuous consensus as she stood at the edge of the clearing, casually leaning a shoulder into a tree trunk, arms folded. 

  We all agree that learning this, and how to better use it, is in our best interest. All of us. Even you.

Speaking without a true voice, as was her way, Three quietly paced the clearing, the soft grass unbowed as she strode. They were both naught more than mental projections, presenting their self-images in the world without truly having a tangible presence.

  You did agree that we should pursue this, Four. 

Two, as per usual, sat on the ground idly looking over a blade she held in hand. She didn’t look up from her work with the weapon, claiming a small whetstone and making rhythmic strokes along the blade’s edge. It was unnecessary. A formality that belonged to someone wishing to maintain social decorum. Two had no need for that. They were, after all, parts of a greater whole. The other parts knew to whom, if anyone in particular, she was speaking to.

Four’s immediate response was to roll her eyes and shrug. 

  I get that, but I don’t like what this entails. You don’t know what you’re agreeing to. Trust me.

“We do trust you, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” One, sitting atop the mostly flat stone that was nestled in the center of the clearing spoke audibly, the deviation from a purely mental dialogue putting the matter to rest. Kat’s other selves took the cue, and began to vanish from sight. Only Four lingered, shaking her head with an almost rueful demeanor.

  Fine. Fine. Just… this isn’t going to end well. For all of us.

Settling in, Kat sought to quiet her mind. Such was no mean feat, considering there were four distinct voices that made it up. Since the inception of their mental organization, they each had been afforded the ability to work on and ponder matters while others were either resting or taking the lead externally. Such an arrangement was terribly efficient for learning and problem-solving, but it left something to be desired in their present pursuit. Being still, relegating her selves to complete inactivity outside of the expressed goal, was exceedingly difficult. It was, however, the path that had been chosen; and so, as a collective, she set to achieving true inner quiet. 

It was a laboriously slow process, at first. Normal meditation allowed for other parts of her mind to toil away quietly, and thus was easy compared to this new venture. Every birdsong, every chittering of the forest life, brought to bear a mental catalogue of what creature made the noise, and whether it was a threat. Every shift of the wind or change in the light as clouds passed over invoked thoughts on weather patterns, and if, perhaps, it would rain unexpectedly. Every snapping branch or twig heralded a spike of adrenaline, and a call to alertness that was frustratingly appropriate, if unwanted.

Her first day was spent this way, making a small stride towards achieving the goal of inner quiet, only to take two strides backward. Some might get discouraged, making so little progress for their efforts. Kat was not one of those people. To her, this was simply a challenge to rise to and overcome. She had endured a great many things. Training herself to have some additional self-discipline was hardly an insurmountable task.

The second day was similar to the first, though with more forward progress than backwards faltering. It was not until the third day that true, tangible headway was noticeable. Finally reaching the point where the whole of her mind was stilled, she was able to expand her focus. Conceptually, it was not unlike trying to feel out a room when trying to be stealthy. You used your senses to their furthest limits, seeking out the small hints and clues that were present. It was even more similar to listening to the wind, a talent she had, entirely unintentionally, developed during her normal meditations. So, unsurprisingly, it was the wind she heard first, its fluting, whimsical presence cavorting through the leaves and branches overhead, a consistent -but not unchanging- sound that provided a foundation for every other sound in the clearing. 

The next sounds to become discernible to her were the aged groaning of the trees. Their leaves and branches shifted and rustled, so capriciously toyed with by the wind, but the beams and trunks let out a deeper, more profound call. It was the sound of decades, even centuries, of slow and patient growth, of basking in the sun’s warmth and weathering the violent storms. Of observing the fleeting lives of the creatures of the Shroud and remaining. Those lives were quickly spent, flitting about from place to place, experience to experience. Not the trees, though. Their stalwart, unmoving nature provided a longer view of existence. A view that sang low and strong beneath the ocean-like ebb and flow of the canopy’s voice. 

Days passed, and with the passing of each day Kat’s awareness of the song, and it was a song, being perpetually sung around her grew. Vyalise, the one who had set her on this path, described nature as having a song, one of balance and harmony. It was only the faintest, most ephemeral of glimpses, but Kat began to hear this, and to recognize it for what it was. There was something else, though; a growing sense of pressure deep within her. The need for something, some force to be released, or some action taken. What exactly, she wasn’t certain, much less what she could do to address the issue. What she could do, for now, was to continue to listen, and hope that such answers would come to her in time.

A full sennight passed in her isolation. Each day, more of the harmony of life became clearer and more discernible to her. One day she had committed entirely to listening to and understanding the way the birds’ songs and lives weaved melodic strains into the greater harmony. Another had been devoted to the staccato scurrying of squirrels and other small animals, underpinned by the tireless, nigh endless toil of the insects that positively crowded the clearing. Bringing her internal chorus to silence, Kat became able to hear and, to some small degree, understand the music of life around her; how each individual part wove into the greater melody in a harmonious fashion. It was only a beginning, she knew. She was far from the level of inherent, inane comprehension that Vyalise had, but it was a significant step in the right direction. And yet, there was something lacking to her. A voice that, as she listened to and scrutinized the symphony around her, was absent. More and more she understood that the voice that was missing wasn’t something around her, but something from inside her. The voice missing was her own.

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Her time in the clearing had been well-spent for Kat, but the world did not stop just because she was fostering personal growth. The Institute had a meeting that had, in her time spent in the clearing, approached rapidly. She would not rush the process, she knew that led to poor and improper development more often than not. She did, however, begin to labor with the knowledge that time was a factor. As her final day in the clearing dawned, she knew that she needed to do something more. Having realized her own voice was the one missing, she began to listen.

To listen in her yet-amateurish manner, understand and appreciate the harmony of the world around her was one matter. It was another matter entirely to add her own voice to it. Throwing herself fully into the song of life around her, she strained to immerse herself. And she failed. Again and again she tried to push her way into it, that she might add her own melodic strain, but each time she found herself lacking. There was an alternative, however, in that indefinable something within herself still wanting to be released. So, with several more failures and a shortening of time remaining to her, she let her mind and body relax, and opened herself to the song once more. This time, for the first time, she succeeded. The inscrutable, undefined sense of impetus and pressure within her at long last found the means to pour out. It was something she was, on the surface, utterly unfamiliar with. Deep down, in the recesses of her mind and, indeed, soul, there was a recognition. A familiarity. A rushing tide of sensation she hadn’t known was resting within her was being released.

And it hurt. 

It was standing over a shallow grave in the pre-dawn gloom, her fingers raw and bloodied, fingernails cracked and torn. Knowing that they should be aching furiously, but not feeling them at all. No one would know where he was buried. No one would care. Just another street rat devoured by the gnashing maw of despondency that was Radz-at-Han. No one but her. 

It was being pulled out of a barrel by her shorn hair, moments after being blinded by the light of the lid being removed. Her whole body was numb but for her lungs and throat, which ached with the deep-set pain of physical exhaustion. She didn’t know how long she’d been left in the barrel, sealed inside with water that rose to allow only a few inches of empty space. There was a hole for fresh air, but it did nothing to alleviate the dark, wet, hideously cramped confinement. Forced to stand and shuffle away, her body came alive with pain. The aches of stiff joints and muscles were set ablaze in unison as the air warmed her, the movement made her stretch. It was agony. But it was also nothing.

It was laying on her back yet again, swathed in silken sheets as the man atop her went about the business he’d paid an exorbitant sum for. Her body made the correct motions, her lips made the right words and sounds. It was what she -what they- were good at: making people feel how they wanted to feel. Inside, however, deep in a place that was quickly becoming forgotten by even the most enduring remnants of her psyche, something whimpered as it died just a little bit more. 

It was all of these things, and so many more. Stacked and layered upon one another, each memory with its own unique flavor of suffering that only added to the grander sensation they were part of. They gave the abyssal tide that was swelling within her nuance and texture, making certain that each distinct taste was felt as sharply as it had been the day it first happened. This flood of sensation washed over her, through her, utterly, drowning her in the depths of its expansiveness. 

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She wasn’t sure when she finally became aware of her surroundings again. Her first sight was that of wilting grass brushing against her nose, the shades of green and brown awash in an orange light. The sun was setting, she realized slowly. It had been near midday when… it didn’t matter. Then there was the matter of an odd noise that, she realized, was coming from her own mouth. It was a single held note, hoarse and faint from enduring so long, but undaunted in its perseverance. Clamping her mouth promptly shut, she pushed herself into a seat on the grass. Hadn’t she been on the rock? Pondering this displacement of her self, she only then realized that the clearing had something peculiar about it. It was perfectly, utterly silent. 

There were no leaves rustling as the wind danced through them, nor were there the tired creakings of the obdurate trees that encircled her. No birds sang their songs of love and warning. Not a single creature stirred, either in the underbrush, or in the boughs above. Climbing to her feet, she slowly strode around the clearing, suddenly alert for anything amiss. And there was indeed aught amiss. The grass, so verdant and alive that morning, was wilting and browned. Not dead, but dormant and weak. The leaves above also had begun to wilt, their edges curling inward as yellows and oranges began their death march from edge to stem. She nearly stepped on the first animal she came across. It was a squirrel, its form curled in on itself as it shivered and twitched. Its eyes darted manicaly, its little nostrils reddened with flecks of blood as it panted desperately for air. Kneeling down, she reached out hesitantly to stroke the creature’s fur, to try and soothe it. In that moment, whether through panicked ‘fight or flight’ response or from what held it in place being gone, it writhed and sprinted away abruptly. Skittering up the trunk of a tree at the clearing’s edge, it turned to look at her, chattering away in what was clearly a scolding manner before scurrying off. Did I do this?Such was the first truly coherent thought she had. Until this moment she had simply been… existing. Her mind stilled as she took in the world around her. Still, it was a valid question, all considered. The response came weakly, as from far away, and not for no insignificant amount of time. It was, strangely, neither Four nor Three, but both speaking in unison.

   Yes. It was us.

In that moment, another wave of that cascading, obliterative anguish of the soul struck her. Gasping, she fell again to her hands and knees, then to the ground, where she curled in on herself. It gnawed at her, eroding her cognizance of the world around her, of the tentative birdsongs that were beginning to return as the avian choir recovered from their own sojourn with anguish. Lost to the world, drowning in the pain of a life lived without reconciling the condition of the soul, she wept.

[kattloaf]

Solstice Celebration

     Kat shut the door to the safehouse behind her, the quiet thrum of protective wards following as the physical link that connected their workings was made. This was one of three safehouses she had in Ul’dah, nevermind the others elsewhere that she kept as contingencies.She liked to keep an extra where she’d be spending most of her time, but given the rather abrupt relocation of the Institute, it looked like she’d be shutting down one of the Ul’dah houses in favor of another on Vylbrand.

     Setting the notion of the arduous process of relocation aside,she strode over to one of several long, well-organized tables. Each had its own purpose, and was of a material appropriate for the work it was intended for. This, of course, meant that all save two were wooden. It was hard to go wrong with well-lacquered wood. The particular she’d gone to was one such wood table, and it bore a number of devices of magitek or similar design, as well as several notebooks and an array of docks for linkpearls. Each pearl had its own slot, as well as a connected device that recorded communications on the linkpearl that was set in it. If there were new transmissions, a green light would blink. If there was nothing, static red. Both were fairly common, as it stood.What wasn’t common was the single, pulsing yellow light at one recording device. Yellow meant that the line was being actively hailed by someone.

     Exhaling a sigh as a physical expression of the mental chorus of consternation that immediately sprang into life in her mind, she removed the pearl and put it in her ear, activating it. A bland, clear voice spoke in repetition. “To all active listeners: The Solstice Celebration is active. Repeat, the Solstice Celebration is active. All personnel are to report to direct intermediary superiors to receive instructions for attire and tasking. This message will repeat.” 

     Immediately, Kat frowned.

     Solstice Celebration. That’s not good.

     Means that we need to contact Kamila. Barring her, Marius.

     But-

     No ‘buts,’ One. We do what protocol dictates. We owe them that much respect.

     Three is correct. As much as myself and, I presume, Four, would enjoy jumping into some presumed fray, discretion is the better part of valor in this instance. We don’t have information, and ignorance can be fatal.

     One promptly quieted and ceded the point internally as Kat reached for another pearl that, she noted, had no recorded communications. Putting it in her ear and activating it, she spoke. “High Heaven, this is Prodigal Mendicant, responding in accordance with the issued message. Repeat, High Heaven, this is Prodigal Mendicant. Are you receiving me?”

     A gruff, masculine voice responded. A familiar one. “Prodigal Mendicant, this is High Heaven. How are the prices of Limsan Flour?”

     Kat rolled her eyes. Protocol was protocol, but not a single part of her felt like dealing with call and response security checks. Nonetheless, she complied as concisely as she could. “I am unaware. All the flour I can find for sale is Hannish. Perhaps you should check the dock markets.”

     There was a grunt of acknowledgement on the other end of the line, then a response. “Dock markets are closed for Diwali.” The man exhaled a sigh. “You’re clear, Cassia. Th-”

     Kat interjected before Marius could finish. “Why are you on the line, Marius? This is Kamila’s frequency.”

     Marius made a clicking noise with his tongue. It was something of a sign of irritation on his part, but Kat didn’t particularly care at the moment. “I’m answering the line so Lady Alfius can tend to other matters. There’s a lot going on here right now. The estate is being evacuated of all personnel. One of the Legatuses decided it might be nice to have a couple of cohorts run the length of the coast, establishing and securing coastal positions. Per our eyes, they’re about five hours out yet. We’ll be long gone before they arrive, but we have to make sure the Nest is empty of anything useful.” There was a pause, followed by Marius barking out instructions to someone in the room in his usual surly manner. Returning to the conversation, he spoke more softly. “Your father is speaking to the town council before we leave.”

     “Where are you going?” Kat had an idea already, but confirmation would be helpful.There were things to be done depending on the answer.

     “You know I can’t tell you that. Even if this line isn’t compromised, it would be a security risk.” He paused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “What I can say is that the goal is the Sunny Shores, provided things don’t get fucked sideways.” Through the line came the sound of several voices shouting, followed by a quick word from Marius. “Advance scouts spotted. Have to go. We’ll be in touch.” The line went dead.

     Kat set the pearl back in its place numbly. That was that. No real argument to be broached about it.  Her parents were coming to Eorzea. 

     Her Imperial parents were coming to Eorzea. 

[kattloaf]

Math

     Kat sat alone at a table in the Wandering Stairs. It was late. The tables were mostly vacant, with only a merry few still lingering around the bar in their inebriation. Kat hadn’t joined them in their state of alcoholic enhancement, though no less than three of them had, at various points in her vigil, come over to try their hand at bringing her into the fold. She had other things to consider, other things to work out with other people. 

     Of course, those ‘other people’ were also her. And they were all sitting in the other seats at the table. 

     “The numbers are accurate, Three?” Two sat across from Three, idly turning a small knife over in her hand again and again. 

     Three simply nodded, her voice filling the air in absence of her ability to speak. 

     They are accurate.I have done the metaphorical math no less than twenty times, taking into consideration all variables we have provided and considered. If we are efficient, and it becomes necessary, we will have to tap into our anima. The degree of which depends solely on how much aether we are forced to use prior. 

     To Three’s right -and Two’s left- One made a low, sour grunt, a deep frown plastered on her face. “I don’t like it. But….” She paused to exhale a burdensome sigh. “But, if there isn’t an alternative in our means, it’s what we’ll have to do.” 

     Three nodded. She, of all of them, understood the risks more acutely than the rest. They hadn’t been the mind poring over arcane calculations for the past two days, bringing hard-earned tabulations to the rest, only for them to poke holes in the assessment. 

     I am unable to find a means by which we can perform what we have all agreed on as appropriate without investing anima. Would that we had two more years of developing and deepening our aetherpool, such might not be required. As it stands, severing a being’s connection to aether on a fundamental level is… very small, but very taxing. 

     Four, to Three’s left, just rolled her eyes and rose from the table, offering a flippant wave of her hand and comment as she strode off, her form fading into nothing. “It’s better than what she deserves. Still, I can’t wait to see the fear in those eyes….”

[kattloaf]

Beginnings (Epilogue)

Slowly, and with a great deal of grogginess, consciousness returned to Kat. 

Inventory.

Mm.. everything -should- be hurting, but isn’t. No missing limbs I can tell.

We’re sedated. 

Mmf. Thinking’s hard….

Inhaling deeply, to a twinge of muted pain, Kat opened her eyes. She was… indoors. In the blue room. The one she’d been given before the party. Which meant she was back inside the estate. Blinking groggily, she lifted her head to look around. The room nearly spun with the exertion, likely a consequence of  the drugs. From the corner of her eye she saw a figure exit the room, the closing of a door confirming it. She got a brief glimpse of the figure: Shaggy, dark hair and a weathered coat.

Well, look who sold us out.

Working on why he’s here.

Pretty obvious answer.

Drugs.... Good drugs. Opioids?

It wasn’t long before the figure in question, which was indeed Marius, returned. Accompanying him was Kamila, now clad in a periwinkle blouse and a pair of trousers. She carried about her a much more professional air than she had during the party. In the time Marius had been gone, Kat had managed to climb into a sitting position, made all the more difficult by her left arm being in a sling. Still woozy from the drugs, she smiled in what she hoped was a polite manner. “Fancy seeing you again.”

Kamila simply seated herself in one of the red chairs the room bore, her hands folded in her lap. Marius, for his part, had taken up station by the door. Kat shot him a questioning look, but had her attention drawn by Kamila breaking the silence that had fallen. 

“I’m going to ask you some questions. I should like you to answer them honestly.” Judging by the expression, or lack thereof, that Kamila bore, it seemed she was being serious. 

Unphased, Kat gesticulated widely with her right, and as she just then realized, bandage-wrapped arm. “Where’s my vials? I need the… pale yellow one.” It was trouble enough to remember which color vial her panacea was, much less the answers to whatever questions Kamila had. 

“Why do you nee-”

Kat surprised even herself by responding abruptly. “So I can think. I’m all… drugged up. Can’t think straight.” She flopped her arm down on the covers of the bed, which hurt. 

Kamila’s lips turned down at the corners in a subtle frown. “They’re painkillers. You will be in a great deal of pain if you negate them.” Perhaps it was the drugs, but the woman seemed genuinely concerned.

Kat tried to shake her head, but the wave of nausea that induced put a kibosh on it quickly. “I can… handle it. Can’t answer your questions if I’m….” She moved to wave her arm, but only succeeded in flopping her wrist lazily, “loopy.”

Kamila turned to look at Marius, nodding. The man shifted, fishing into a pocket and, after sorting through the various colors present, strode over to hand the vial to Kat. Quietly, he whispered in his usual gruff tone. “You sure about this, kit?”

Kat narrowed her eyes at the comment, taking the vial and downing it as her answer. By her own design, it didn’t take long for the panacea to take effect. First to depart was the haze in her mind, burning away like the morning fog. Next to depart was the anesthetic effects of the drugs. The numbness didn’t leave slowly. No, that would be too gentle. It simply vanished, pain crashing down on her like a tsunami. In an instant every thought she had was utterly obliterated. Gasping at the sudden deluge of pain, she clutched at the bedsheets, the singular tactile sensation that wasn’t agony acting as a piece of driftwood to cling to. 

I CAN DO THIS.

Are you cer-

I’VE ENDURED WORSE.

If you need help, Four, send some to me. You don’t need to take it all.

Pleasepleasepleaseplease. Stop. Make… make it stop. 

The agony persisted for what felt as though it were an eon, yet was only short enough a time for Marius to turn around and lean in, trying to do...something. And then, it was gone. Like the tide, the crashing wave of agony had drawn out, leaving her, or at least three parts of her, lying in the wet sand. With another exhalation, this one of relief, Kat sagged in her seat. Swallowing down bile-tinged spittle, she nodded. “A-alright. Ask your questions.” 

Four, are you-

GAAAAAAAH. LEAVE. ME. BE. 

One, not a good idea. Let her handle it.

Focus on the present. We’re down Four, we need to figure out the Frumentarius’ angle.

Marius, who was still hovering over Kat with a concerned expression on his grizzled face, spoke first. “You sure you’re good? You don’t sound good. Look even worse.” He meant well. They’d been through some rough business during the sojourn to Dalmasca they’d shared. Kat had felt she could trust him, though his being here now called that into serious question.

“I’m fine, Marius. Let the Frumentarius ask her questions.” Turning her gaze from Marius to Kamila, she continued. “You are a Frumentarius, correct?”

At that the woman smiled. It was faint, and relieved, but it was there. “Your perceptions have served you well. I served faithfully as such for many years, and while I no longer active in the field-” 

Kat finished the sentiment for her. “You keep your eyes and ears open. I get it.” Sighing and looking over her bandaged arm, the clean linen tidily wound around both her arms up to her shoulder. “So, what is it you want to know? Hope it’s not anything about the Grand Companies. I don’t know a damn thing about that.”

Kamila quickly shook her head in response to the probing retort. “I am completely disinterested in the current state of conflict at this juncture. I suppose the best way to start would be to ask what happened with Vicarius Victus.”

Kat laughed, then winced. Even with Four taking on the pain, it still didn’t feel pleasant. “He was going to fly me off, kill me, probably dump my body in the ocean, then say I tried to escape. Even if he wasn’t lying, I wasn’t about to go with him. Man hates me.” She paused, correcting. “Hated. I assume he’s dead?”

Nodding, Kamila exhaled a sigh. “Very. The entire landing pad his ship occupied was destroyed in the explosion I assume you caused.” She fixed a stern gaze on Kat. “You’ve made quite a mess of things. My… people are patching things up, but you made a very large problem that I am stuck with fixing on your behalf.”

This caught Kat entirely off-guard. Blinking several times, she tried to lean forward, then thought better of it. “I’m sorry, you said you’re fixing this for me? Why?”

“It largely depends on how you answer my questions. May we continue?”

Frowning intently, Kat nodded. “Alright.”

Do we go with honesty?

Don’t see why not, we are quite literally helpless in our current situation. 

We could be dead. She had us taken care of. 

Kamila narrowed her eyes a touch at the frown. “Do you have any immediate family?”

Kat gulped. “No. I… had a brother, but he died when I was young.”

At that Kamila frowned cryptically, but did not stop with her questions. “By what means did you come into your… skills?”

A simple enough question, if very probing. Thankfully, Kat had no remaining goodwill towards her former benefactors and teachers. “I was taken in at a young age by a clandestine group in Radz-at-Han. Their primary interest was to inhibit Garlemald by proxy through various means.” 

Kat was going to stop there, but a thought occurred to her. Cassian had mentioned ledgers pointing towards Kat being involved in the deaths she’d caused. Her stomach twisted as a realization dawned on her. “An organization that, since I have thoroughly disassociated myself with them, has decided to sell me out. Not entirely surprising, all considered.”

Kamila let out a small chuckle at that. “I cannot avow for whom exactly is doing so, but within the intelligence circles of Thavnair you have been… marked as persona non grata. This much I do know. Your assessment is likely accurate.” The woman cleared her throat before continuing, “Now, onto other matters. Why, in your opinion and perception, do you believe you were invited here as a guest of honor?”

Arching one eyebrow, which she had confirmed she still had, Kat took a moment to collect her thoughts into a response. “My assessment of the nature of your invitation had one of two primary motives. Either you wanted me and the possible ‘plus one’ for arcane purposes, or for reasons of heredity. Your very clear choice of wording in the invitation led two to, after ruling out the faults in logic of other avenues, outcomes. So, which is it?”

Kamila simply folded her hands in her lap, studying Kat with an inscrutable mask for a face. After nearly a full minute had passed, she drew in a breath to speak. “Well, I suppose that means I can dispense with the concerns over hostages, blackmail, and extorting cooperation. We did not invite you here for some form of magical… deviance either.” Shifting to cross one leg primly over the other, Kamila tilted her head. “Tell me, what is your… first memory? The very first one you have. Not the one you remember the best, but the first.”

Oooh dear. Three, you have this? 

I do, but… are we certain we want to dredge this up, Two? It’s a fragment at best. Just pieces, really.

Makes me feel scared. Every time. She asked though….

Gulping, Kat nodded, her eyes locking on the sheets as they stared through them, looking in on a fragment of something nearly-forgotten. “I… running. Scared, tired. Arms hurt. Legs hurt. Wrists and ankles. Brother pulling my arm. My legs are so short, his so long.” Kat blinks several times, now thoroughly drawn into the memory. “Says to keep up. We can’t stop. And we can’t. The Bad Men will get us. Now we’re… hiding behind boxes. Dusty alley, near dark. More scared. I… point at someone. A soldier. Brother pulls my arm down. Says, ‘No. The Bad Men were dressed up like soldiers.’ So we hide. I’m crying. I miss… home. My parents.” 

Trailing off, Kat blinked several more times, having to wipe away the tears that had crept up on her. Kamila, sitting across from her, looked… distraught, emotional. She had asked for a reason. A very specific reason. The woman opened her mouth to speak, but a knock came at the door. Starting, Kamila briskly rose from her chair and stepped outside. 

Kat simply watched. She had all the pieces now, as best she could tell. Kamila had ideas about who Kat was. Where she came from. Kat had ideas as well, now. She’d been collecting them for most of her life. The ‘Bad Men’ for example. Perhaps it was a jumbling of memory, but a deep, dusty corner of her knew who they were. They’d trained her, taught her to make illusions, to kill. Tortured her. Broke her down to her essence to watch her mind crack, then shatter. Then, after all that, they picked up the shards and shaped her, molded her into the jagged blade she knew she was. That only left a few conclusions as to who Kamila was. Who Tidus was. 

Before Kat could set those thoughts in stone, however, Kamila returned, looking even less composed than before. The professional mask was in place, certainly, but the cracks in it were many. The lack of color in her face, the death grip she had on the folder she bore in her hand.  Surely she knew on some level she was doing a poor job of maintaining her position of superiority in this conversation, right? 

Either way, the woman moved to her seat, the tension she bore almost palpable to Kat. Lowering herself into the seat, Kamila opened the folder, reading the papers it held. Her voice was, curiously, shaking when she spoke again. “You… said you had a brother. What… what was his name?”

One… 

Yeah? 

Looks like you get that wish. 

Yeah….

“Firrous. After the… memory he said to call him Firrous.”

Kamila looked up at Kat, mostly with her eyes, which were, interestingly, glassy. “And before?”

Kat choked down a ball of emotion that was straining at the walls of her self-discipline. “Faustus. It was Faustus.” 

Kamila’s eyes returned to the open folder in her lap, remaining silent. After a short spell in that state, the woman’s shoulders began to heave, a strangled sob escaping her. With a ‘plop’ that was, to Kat, louder than a cannon, a tear fell down onto that opened folder, likely running the ink it bore. Kamila’s head raised slowly, tears staining her makeup as they ran down her cheeks, leaving trails in their wake. Hoarsely, her voice choked almost entirely with her own efforts to leash her emotions, she croaked out. “Cassia. Your name is Cassia.”

Something inside Kat broke. Something she didn’t even know could break. Something she hadn’t truly realized was even there. Hearing that name had done something to Kat, that she didn’t know could be done. She had no way to cope with it other than to let the rush of emotions that swelled within her loose. She had a family. Parents. The one thing she had learned not to hope for, forced herself not to hope for, it was true. Part of her, likely Three, noted that we had to get evidence. Such stipulations were lost amid the riot of repressed, forgotten emotions Kat was now awash in. 

Forcing herself to retain some tenuous sense of rationality, or at least propriety, Kamila wiped her eyes and looked down at the folder once more, speaking in a tremulous voice.. “When.. Marius brought you back here. We… took a blood sample.Garlean medical science can… compare heredity. We ran yours. It… It matches.” She closed the folder, looking up at Kat again. 

“You’re our Cassia.” 

[kattloaf]

Endings (Dinner Party pt. 4)

Kat was out of time. 

Need to do something….

Less than one minute until we either have to drop an illusion, or start hurting ourselves. 

I told you, we have this. 

If so, we need to do it now. 

Frowning to herself, Kat quietly slid her hands down to her thighs, removing the daggers hidden there with excruciating slowness. The side slit on the dress she wore would, normally, have made them plain as day. She’d put the effort in to have several small illusions running the entire evening to conceal her armaments, however. Ironically, those same illusions were the reason she was running dry now. If she were to do this and succeed, she had to be swift. Kat closed her eyes to center herself, then set to it. 

Her illusion, totally complacent up to this point began to shimmer, drawing the soldiers’ immediate attention. One, leaning forward to inspect it, got out a “What the-” before the illusion exploded. A concussive blast of wind knocked all six men against the metal walls of the carrier. Dropping her own veil, Kat swung one dagger, its blade slicing through a soldier’s neck guard and throat with ease. With her other dagger, she made a concise slash in the air, sending a biting arc of wind-aspected aether into the three men along the opposite wall. 

The sound of armor and metal shearing was deafening in the small space, as were the screams of the soldiers. With a need to keep moving, she darted forward, dipping below a haphazard punch thrown by one of the two remaining guards. Adjusting her grip on one of the daggers -Fuyukaze- she jammed it upward and at an angle into the man’s left armpit. A cry of agony heralded her success, but it was a short-lived success. The sixth soldier, having the precious seconds to gather his bearings, slammed into her. Both of them fell to the metal floor roughly, each scrambling to gain an advantage. Grunting with the impact, Kat tried to slice her remaining dagger at the soldier, but he got a grip on her wrist before she could strike true and held it down.

The soldier, enraged by her attack, clamped down his other gloved hand on Kat’s throat, squeezing tightly. As she struggled against both the soldier’s weight atop her and the hand around her neck, Kat’s vision gradually began to grow spotty.The vice grip on her neck was working to render her unconscious, and quickly. Leveling a few ineffectual blows against the guard’s helmet and chest, she did the only other thing she could put her mind to in the moment. Fingers fumbling as she vainly gasped for breath, she felt in her dress for one of her kunai.  Finding one, she got a finger through the loop at the pommel, pulling it free. 

Within a second, the last soldier was lying on the floor, dead. Still gasping for breath, Kat shakily removed one of the vials she’d brought, an ether, and downed it. It wouldn’t put her at full strength by any measure, but it gave her something to work with. Her body would have to do the rest of the work itself. Still uneasy, she looked toward the front of the vehicle. It was impossible for the driver to have missed the commotion, but they were still moving. Still keeping a wary eye on the door to the front cab, Kat reclaimed her weapons, including the kunai that was jammed into the last soldier’s head, sat down, and veiled herself once again. She would wait. 

Eventually, the vehicle stopped. Kat wasn’t entirely certain how long it had been, but she felt fairly certain they had been driving long enough to reach the airship pads at the edge of the coastal town. The vehicle quieted, the engine being shut off. Kat thought she heard shouting outside, and readied herself. Her blades bared, she waited. After a short spell of anticipation, the ramp began to lower. Outside stood another eight soldiers with gunblades and pistols all aimed at the interior of the vehicle. Kat was still veiled, however, so all they saw were the sundered bodies of their compatriots. 

With a focused thought, Kat conjured another illusion, this time behind the new group of soldiers. Looking smug, it called out in a carefree voice, “Looking for someone?” Immediately, all but two of the octet wheeled around to face the source of the noise. The two who didn’t immediately caught aether-propelled kunai to the face. Their bodies going limp and tumbling to the ground, Kat advanced onto the landing pad. 

It was over quickly. Two down, Kat simply had to slice, stab, and dodge through the others With the help of illusions that split off of her to confuse, she made short work of the six. It was a tactic she’d used often, even back in Thavnair. It was effective. 

She was on the airpad, just as expected. Nearby, not twenty fulms away, was the airship that, she presumed, Cassian had arrived in. It had been the one the personnel carrier had come from, of that she was confident. The ship’s engines whined in what was likely its pre-flight ramping. Cassian would be near, of that she was also confident.

Before Kat could begin her hunting of Cassian, she was struck in the arm. The sound of a gunshot rang within that same moment, making it clear just what she’d been hit by. Then came the pain, clouding her mind as she spun around to the ground. Her left arm was now a conduit of pure, unmitigated agony. With a weak cry of pain, she hurriedly began to scramble away, purely out of instinct, angling for the shelter the airship’s hulk provided. 

“Yes, run. I could use a little sport.” Cassian’s arrogant voice echoed across the platform, only somewhat discernible over the ambient noises of the airship. “About the only thing you’re good for. Sport.” 

Tucking into a nook at the base of a landing gear, Kat swung her head around, trying to pinpoint Cassian’s location. 

Give me the pain. We need to think clearly. 

Done.

Done.

Done.

Kat swung her head around, trying to pinpoint Cassian’s location. The whine of the airship made it nearly impossible to hear his footsteps, and the surrounding clutter gave ample cover. Stealing away a moment to inhale a deep breath, Kat committed the roiling, throbbing pain she felt to one of her minds. It let the rest of her think clearly, if for a time. Able to think more clearly, she pulled up the skirt of her dress, using a dagger to cut away a swath and bind the gunshot wound. 

Cassian’s shouting voice interrupted her work, causing her to stop binding the wound and look around in alarm. “You know, I really do have as much time as we need. This is my airship. And there will be more soldiers coming. You can hide as long as you’d like. It won’t make a difference.” Cassian was toying with her now as he stalked the landing pad, moving in and out of crates, ceruleum canisters, bodies. 

Kat started. Ceruleum. That would work. Moving carefully, she willed some of her remaining aether into a veil before returning to the personnel carrier she’d arrived in. After checking to make certain it was empty, she reclaimed her kunai and Harukaze, which she’d dropped during her tumble as she had been shot. 

She was returning to her nook at beneath the landing gear to prepare when she heard the cocking of a pistol, strangely audible beneath the engines. Freezing, she spun. Cassian stood ten fulms away, in front of a set of hoses and, ceruleum canisters. Strangely, he was wearing an odd set of… overly large spectacles? 

“That’ll be enough. I know you’re there. Can see you.” He reached up, tapping at the unwieldy device. “Do you like them? They’re from Eorzea, you know. Can see your aether.” He waved the pistol lightly, gesturing for her to kneel down. 

Dropping her veil, Kat simply stood, defiant. “You’re a piss-poor shot, Cassian. Had the drop and the best you could do was wing me? You need to practice more.” She had to keep him occupied. Her aether was mostly drained, and without somatic gestures to help, her plan was tenuous at best. “Nice gun though.”

The Garlean smiled, meandering closer with a confident swagger as he spoke. “You like it? I keep it for… special occasions, like this. When someone has made a point of irking me enough to be… personal in removing them.” His smile turned to a could, zealous grin. “For only shooting a worn-out old whore, this is going to be rather satisfying.”

She was almost done. She only needed a few more seconds. “You’re forgetting something, Cassian.”

He drew to a stop and aimed his pistol, the muzzle barely two feet from Kat’s forehead. “And what’s that?”

She smiled, her voice echoing from behind Cassian. “To watch the hands, not the face.”

Abruptly, he spun around, pistol readied. There stood an illusion, already beginning to foment into a fireball. Right next to a group of ceruleum canisters. Though Kat couldn’t see it, the blood drained from his face as a dawning horror overtook him. The illusion exploded, rupturing the canisters and starting a chain reaction of flame. 

Knowing she didn’t have time to get away, Kat stepped forward, driving a dagger upward into Cassian’s lungs from behind. The taller Garlean’s body as a physical shield, she pooled what dregs of aether she had left to form a protective ward. Her skill with them was paltry at best, but it was still something.

The explosion blossomed outward as the canisters erupted violently, sending shrapnel and flames soaring. Caught in the explosion, the airship shook, then began to contribute its own fuel and metal to the fiery cataclysm. The shockwave hit first, knocking both her and her Garlean shield back, the flames and heat following on its heels. 

Everything went dark.

[kattloaf]

Spite (Dinner Party pt. 3)

Kat leaned delicately on the stone railing of the grand balcony, gazing out to the town below. One by one, lights were being snuffed out as the townsfolk retired for their evening slumber. Save for the lights that lit the airship pads at the edge of town, the reds and stark blue-whites that they were, darkness was fully settling on the town. Erstwhile, at Kat’s vantage, the festivities were in full, post-meal swing. After the meal a number of rooms had been opened up. Salons for conversation and debate, a ballroom she’d glimpsed earlier at the summit of the stairs in the grand hall. Like a faint whisper, echoing through the faint murmurs of indistinct conversation, the music from the ballroom could still be heard where she was.

The party would go on until the late hours of the night, Kat knew. If there was one thing the wealthy enjoyed, it was spending an evening gossiping, drinking, and generally trying to balance inebriation with the ability to outwit their social adversaries. But here she was, drawn to the balcony that, save for one or two others, was empty. Perhaps, in her time away from the life of a social butterfly, she had become insular. Introverted, even. Perhaps she’d always been that way. Politicking and maneuvering the social web in Radz-at-Han had been her duty, her job. That she was deft at it was a boon, but it didn’t mean that’s what she was. Who she was.  

We’ve always been like this. 

I concur, we simply… didn’t have the opportunity.

At least here we don’t have pretenses to maintain, apart from the obvious. 

It’s nice. Oh, someone’s coming.

Someone indeed. Even before she turned her eyes from the tranquil vista below, she heard the approaching footsteps. 

“A grand celebration full of entertainment to enjoy, and our guest of honor is here, gazing out into the night, alone.” Tidus het Alfius’ baritone voice was kind. Jovial even, despite his comment being something of a bemused reproach. Taking up a place next to Kat, he spared a moment to take in the view before continuing. “I do hope we haven’t driven you to boredom.” 

A faint smile tugging at her lips, Kat shook her head. “Not at all, Lord Alfius.”

The man made a gentle wave of dismissal at the title. “Please, just Tidus.”

Kat nodded in assent. “Very well. The dinner, the gaiety, all of it, it’s wonderful. And humbling, in a way. I am far from worthy of such a divine celebration.” 

Tidus rumbled a low chuckle, nodding along with her words. “Perhaps to you. The performance you put on was little short of remarkable. You do yourself a disservice to claim your talents are not worthy of celebration, my dear.” 

Kat just put on another smile, eyes drifting back out to the gradually darkening village. Curiously, a sizable vehicle was pulling off of one of the landing pads and onto the road. Once there, it began to take the road leading up the cliffs to the estate. So intently and suddenly focused on the oddity, Kat was only vaguely aware that Tidus was speaking. Belatedly, her minds got to processing this. Blinking and looking sharply over to the man. “Apologies, I was… lost on an errant thought. What did you say?”

“I simply asked how old you were, if it is not too bold a question?” Tidus, for his part, did not seem bothered by having to repeat himself. Quite the opposite, judging by his kindly smile.

“Oh, ah, no. Not at all. Roundabouts of twenty-seven. Orphan, so, no exact date.” She chuckled, “I actually had to pick a date on the calendar when I first had to fill out paperwork that asked my date of birth.”

Tidus nodded slowly at that, his features composed in a contemplative mask. His brow furrowed, lips turned down so very slightly down as he dwelled on her answer. Just as Kat was about to consign the dialogue to a contented, if puzzling, silence, he spoke up once more. “I would’ve had a daughter about your age.”

Kat blinked, taking her turn to frown as she turned her head towards the man. “‘Would’ve,’ sir?”

He simply nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. Perhaps it was just the dim lighting of the balcony, but Tidus bore a shadow in his eyes, seemingly that of cold grief. “Son and a daughter. They were both… lost to us a long time ago.”

Not entirely certain as to how to offer anything other than a bald-faced platitude, Kat did her best. “I’m… sorry for your loss.” The easily-dispensed response leaving a bad taste in her mouth, she opted for a different approach. “If it’s not too… painful, what happened?”

Now wearing a fully-developed frown, Tidus shook his head. “Just as I said. We… lost them. A group of dissidents kidnapped them, held them ransom. We found their hideout, but ...” He paused, exhaling a burdensome sigh. “They were nowhere to be found. Either taken elsewhere or…. Or worse.”

She wasn’t entirely sure why she had asked, but it did serve to paint a picture, if not a pretty one. On a whim, she reached over to gently rest her hand atop his. “I am sorry. I find it... difficult to comprehend what you two went through in that ordeal.”

Tidus simply nodded, and they finally fell into that contemplative, mutual silence. 

An interesting story.

I’m wondering where this happened, myself. 

Does it really matter?

Yes. It sounds familiar. 

Lost in her thoughts, Kat almost didn’t catch the sound of multiple sets of footsteps on approach. Tidus, hearing the clamor same as Kat, turned as she did to see who the source was, quietly exclaiming. “The blazes is…” His voice trailed off as he fell into a stunned, possibly apoplectic silence. 

It was Cassian, with a cadre of six soldiers wearing full uniform, in tow. Seeing both Tidus and Kat’s surprise, the Vicarius smiled. 

Tidus, found his voice first, pronouncing indignantly, “Cassian, what is the meaning of this? Why have you brought your guard with you?” Kat, for her part, simply remained silent as she thought. 

I count six, though there are probably several more where they came from.

Explains the vehicle leaving the airship pads earlier. 

We can take all of them with zero collateral, I just need three fulms of space. 

That MOTHERFUCKER.

Cassian’s smile just grew wider in reply. “I’m so very glad you asked, Tribunus. You see, during my time in the embassy in Radz-at-Han, a suspiciously high number of individuals that were of interest or cooperating with Imperial endeavours met untimely ends through ‘accidents.’ All of which were, after certain ledgers came into our possession providing details, also seen with your ‘Guest of Honor’ shortly before their demise. The embassy has been wanting to ask your friend some questions for a good while, it seems.” 

Cassian was practically grinning at this point in his explanation, looking between Tidus and Kat with poorly-concealed, malicious glee. “Having good friends and associates there, I graciously offered to convey her to the embassy that they might ask her directly.” Without further explanation, he nodded to the soldiers behind him, two stepping forward to claim Kat.

Before they could reach her, however, Tidus stepped forward, holding an arm out in front of her in an irate gesture of defiance. “How dare you make a mockery of my hospitality, my offer of safe conduct. Are you so inured to the concept of decency to do this here? Now? If you had an ounce of sense you would see to this business somewhere other than the middle of a gala!”

Around them, the other guests had begun to either drift away hurriedly, or cluster at the far fringes and observe for the sake of gossip. News of this would, undoubtedly, spread quickly amongst the party-goers. Beyond, too. 

Cassian, for his part, put on an air of fretful concern melded with the patronizing superiority that only a Garlean could so effortlessly embody. “Of course I understand the concept of hospitality and ‘safe conduct’ as you put it. However, need I remind you that in these… troubling times, the safety of the State and its interests must, at times, be put above all else?” He held out a hand, gesturing to Kat. “That woman is quite likely responsible for the deaths of over fourteen individuals that were friends of the Empire.”

Tidus did not move his arm an ilm, however he did turn his head to look at Kat. “Is this true?”

Kat just sighed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t doubt the Embassy in Radz-at-Han might have questions of me. Of course, that is ignoring the fact that the Vicarius here is nursing an old grudge borne of his inability to hold his drink sufficiently. ” Focusing her attention on Cassian, she smiled. “I do hope you’ve a bit of something to drink on the trip there. I suddenly find myself rather parched.” 

A glimmer of cold fury shone in the Garlean’s eyes, but it never spread to the smug smile he bore. With visible reluctance, Tidus put his arm down and stepped to the side, allowing the two soldiers to take hold of Kat and set to escorting her off the grounds. Cassian turned to Tidus, offer a bow in what was a decidedly insincere gesture. 

“You have my most sincere gratitude. I will make sure your guest is treated fairly on her journey.” Rising, he motioned to the guards and began to stride toward the entry hall. Forming a restrictive ‘bubble’ around Kat, the soldiers began to tromp their way through the grand hall and into the entry hall. 

Continuing out into the entry hall, small groups of the party-goers watched curiously from the opened doors of rooms, and in the archways. If nothing else, this was going to be a party they remembered. The soldiers surrounding Kat made it as far as the front door before Cassian stopped, holding up a finger in the air.  

“Oh right. I’d almost forgotten.” Slowly pivoting to face Kat, he smiled. “You’re rather deft with your hands, aren’t you? We’ll be having none of that tonight, thank you.” One of the soldiers turned, removing a pair of handcuffs from their belt. “Before that, however….” Drawing his hand back, Cassian brought it down in a powerful slap across the face. 

The stinging shock of the slap jarred Kat out of the state of thinking she’d been in, even causing her to stumble to the side. The soldier there, not anticipating her to falter, stepped enough out of the way for her to drop. 

NOW.

Illusion is up. Shaping aether so the cuffs work… done. So long as he doesn’t hit us again. 

I kind of want him to. 

I’ll handle it.

As she stumbled, Kat veiled herself, leaving an illusory after-image behind. It looked the same, reacted the same, even breathed the same -which had taken considerable practice once upon a time-. But it wasn’t Kat. Kat was standing just outside the circle of soldiers now, unseen and unheard. Her illusion rose slowly with a confident smirk, even as it idly rubbed at its cheek. Investing a modicum of aether, she willed the illusion to speak on her behalf. “Maybe if you’d slapped that hard, I’d have been interested enough to keep you awake.” Then, the illusion tepidly held its hands out, letting the soldier cuff it while Cassian stewed. Judging by the fury in his eyes, it was clear he was contemplating striking again. 

Thankfully, he turned away briskly, waving an arm toward the large vehicle waiting in the rotunda. “Keep a close eye on her. I’m going to prepare to depart. I promised her delivery for tomorrow.” He strode off for the second vehicle currently in the rotunda, which was quite clearly designed with luxury in mind. Cassian got into the vehicle, and was gone in moments, destined for the airship landing.

 How long do we have, Three?

At current rate? About ten minutes before we start to run dry and either hurt ourselves or drop illusions.

Plenty of time. Just need to figure our window out. 

We’re killing him, right?

Yes One, we’re killing him. He knows too much. We just want to take it away from the Alfius’ estate. They’re not horrible people, unlike some others.

Thanks, Two.

Turning her attention back to the group of soldiers, she nearly faltered in her ruse, only barely managing to make the illusion’s arm solid as it was hoisted to its feet. The illusion gave the soldier a mildly patronizing smile, then submissively let them lead her into the carrier. Kat, naturally, followed, taking care to mask the noise of her stepping on the metal ramp that allowed access to the personnel carrier’s interior. She was playing a dangerous game, getting into the very transport Cassian had intended. She didn’t have a choice, though. Not if she wanted to take the inevitable fight away from the estate. 

Roughly, one of the guards shoved the illusion down to its knees, a second hooking the handcuffs onto a ring set in the floor. Job done, the soldiers began to sit down on metal benches shaped into the interior, the one nearest Kat hitting a button set on the wall. Behind her, the ramp began to rise, sealing her in the vehicle with the soldiers. 

Six guards total…. 

We can take them, we just need surprise.

Already have a plan, just need to get away.

Time’s ticking. 

Time was indeed ticking away. It was putting a serious strain on Kat to keep the illusion solid around the handcuffs. Keeping illusions solid was a recently fostered skill for her. Normally, she made an illusion solid only where it needed to be, and only for the exact moment it needed to be. This was the worst sort of endurance test by comparison. The kind she couldn’t afford to fail. 

With a rumble, the vehicle came to life, lurching as it began to circle the rotunda, heading away from the estate, away from the party. Stuck in a dark, cramped chamber like she was, it was difficult to tell how fast they were moving, much less where they were. So she waited. Waited and hoped it would be far enough. 

[kattloaf]

Unexpected Guest (Dinner Party pt. 2)

Following the tour Tidus and Kamila had given her, Kat found herself with more time than necessary before the night’s festivities began in full. The well-chaperoned tour of the manor showed off its finer features, the grand, opulent rooms, the breathtaking views, the sheer wonderment the manse provided. During it, however, Kat had taken note that, while they covered most of the manor, there were certain gaps that lacked appreciable reasoning. Private quarters were a given, of course, but other parts of the building had been left sight-unseen. 

As her escorted tour of the place concluded, they had offered her a room to retire before the celebration began. As she had so many times during the tour, Kat couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence of the room they’d shown her to. Sapphire blue carpeting with gold patterns near the walls, the pattern reflected in filigree on the baseboards and throughout the wall, which was a deeper shade of blue. As with the other rooms she had seen, there were a number of paintings and pictures with ornamented frames adorning the wall to break up the sea of blue and gold. The furniture, interestingly, was red with silver accents, as though to stand in stark defiance of the ocean they resided in. Against one wall sat an enormous, plush bed with a canopy also of red. Reaching the far wall of the room, there was another set of doors leading to a balcony. Nearly every room facing seaward had a balcony, she’d noted. 

At first she simply spent some time thinking, allowing herself to process all she had seen -and what she hadn’t-. Should she need to run, having a mental map of the estate could prove a matter of life or death. Once that matter was addressed, she surreptitiously took stock of the things she’d brought with her. Tucked into slip pockets along her waistline were three of the wolfram-cored kunai she was fond of. Strapped to her thighs, and glamoured to be unseen, were the two daggers Laplace had forged for her, Fuyakaze and Harukaze. She’d mentally taken to calling them the ‘Twin Winds’, but they had proper names all the same. Lastly, she’d tucked several vials in various places, mostly in her dress, but also her boots. 

Inventory taken, she rose, ambling about the room before inevitably making her way to the balcony. The view was, as she was coming to expect, breathtaking. She stood at the midpoint of the river the manor was built over, gazing out first to the waterfall that cascaded down, then to the valley itself. The sun setting to her left cast long shadows over the near valley, the cliff facing she sat atop curving along the shore. Such brought an early nightfall to the town below. As Kat watched, streetlamps and windows began to glow with light as life began to wind down for the evening. Out at sea, ships lit their lanterns as they sailed in to the docks, seeking safe haven for the darkness of night that was approaching. At her vantage, night was yet to arrive, but down there, in that town, it had begun to descend in earnest. 

Unfortunately, she only had so much time to dwell on the tranquil, beautiful scene before her. Tonight was not a night to let her mind wander to the frayed ends of possibility. Tonight she had to focus. She was in a Garlean province, at the estate of a lifetime politician and, she was fairly certain, the intelligence officer he had as a wife. She couldn’t afford to let whimsy take hold. And so, after several deep, controlled breaths to re-center, she set off to meet the night head-on.

When she had heard there were to be other guests, Kat had expected a half-dozen or so, maybe twenty. Instead, there were over forty that had arrived thus far, with little signs of slowing. They arrived in ones and twos at first, some in carriages, some in magitek vehicles of varying fashion. As the time for the beginning of the party drew nearer, and it was a party, or gala if one wanted to be proper, the guests began to arrive more densely. It was not long before the rotunda was bustling with vehicles coming, dispensing their occupants, then leaving. It’s rather marvelously orchestrated. Just enough chaos to keep it from pure order.

I should like to take a look at some of those magitek rides, not that we’ll get the chance. I’m more concerned about the people -in- the vehicles, as you all should be.

At least we don’t recognize many.

Indeed, quite mercifully so, none of the arrivals thus far had been recognizable outside of name recognition by Kat, or vice versa. She stood in the entry hall, that grand checkerboard entrance that had so entranced her mind when she first entered it. Now, rather than echoing vacuously with the footfalls of two people, it rang with the clamor of  dozens of voices all speaking at once. There were cushioned benches and even end tables lining the spaces between archways now, many of them occupied in some way by the attendees. For her part, Kat had kept mostly to herself, offering greetings to those who passed and took interest, but largely letting the rest of them mingle. It made it easier to listen, watch. To learn who liked whom and who they avoided.

Garlean, red jacket, black pants. Baleful look at the hyur woman in the green dress. Portly balding man, black jacket and cravat. Ill-liked by those around him. Laughs at his own jokes.

Black-haired hyur with the blue shimmering dress. Has a small baby bump. Likely pregnant. Man with her is not her husband. No ring. I like her dress. The pregnant one. Oh! Also, man with her is only half-Garlean. 

So went the beginning of the party for Kat, cataloging as much information as she could about the attendees and trying to draw conclusions from it. It did help that each arrival was announced by one of the servants. Kat recognized the servant in question, though only in passing during her tour. She spent most of her time this way, until the herald at the entry declared another name that shook her from her data assessment. 

“Now presenting his excellency Cassian fae Victus, Vicarius of the Southeastern province.”

In with the announcement walked a man that was, lamentably, familiar to Kat. He was Garlean, with sharp, angular features and a smile that was altogether too self-assured and self-satisfied for Kat’s taste. He was tall, with blonde hair pale green eyes, a hue that matched the color of the vest he wore beneath a dark jacket that had gold trim. The trim, naturally, continued down onto his trousers and even his shoes. The ensemble, which Kat found fitting, but garish in the details, only served to complement his upturned chin as he ambled through the hall. 

Moving furtively, but with caution to appear as though she weren’t being evasive, Kat moved her way further into the hall, taking residence in another of the archways that led into other rooms. Greeting other guests as he meandered, Cassian almost missed her. Such potential success was, inevitably, foiled as his moved his gaze to Kat in spite of her efforts. A ripple of confusion played across his lean features, followed by a haughty, bemused smirk as he made his way through the crowd toward her. 

Ah shit.

Damn.

Why did he have to be here….

Fuck this asshole. 

“Well well, now what do we have here? We are quite far removed from the island of Thavnair, for such a rare variety of desert flower.” Reaching out, he neatly took Kat’s hand, which she had held out in way of customary greeting, and kissed the back of her palm. 

Kat smiled a politician’s smile, full of good cheer without an ounce of warmth in her eyes. “You should have paid closer attention to the gardens on your approach. The gardeners have quite the skill for making desert flowers bloom here. I counted four different varieties native to Thavnair.”

Cassian just chuckled at that, somehow managing to fill the sound with as much casual disdain as possible without making an openly mocking gesture. “Is that so? I was, regrettably, occupied with… other matters that required my attention on the ride in. I shall have to pay attention next I have the chance.” Still smiling that smug, triumphant smile, he finally let Kat’s hand go, which she quickly retracted. 

Changing tact slightly, since Cassian was the sort that could spout platitudes until the sun died, Kat steeled herself. “So, you are a Vicarius now, replete with the title. Last I’d heard, you were still an Eques at the embassy in Radz-at-Han.” She plastered on another of those politically-savvy smiles. “Moving up in the world, aren’t we?”

Cassian simply nodded, his ever present smile not wavering. “Indeed. My efforts and diligence at the embassy were recognized, and thus I ascended to my current position.” He waved blithely with a hand. “It’s all.. So very according to plan and procedure, if you’ve an appreciation for such.”

She lifted a hand to her chin, posturing as though she were thinking fervently. 

Do we?

Logically? No.

Yes, but we really want to.

Really, really want to. 

Kat smiled at length.“I can appreciate following protocol. Remind me, though, how many female serving staff did you go through in a moon? What’s the procedure for that?”

Immediately, Cassian’s demeanor grew frigid, his posture stiffening as the cold delight in his eyes turned to a burning venom. Immediately, his voice lowered, its timbre heavy with implication of malice. “Not so many as the number of beds your back has sullied.”  

With an icy smile, his voice and demeanor returned to the air of casual indifference he wore as a badge of honor. The venom still in his gaze as he stared Kat down, he continued in a voice that carried to those nearby. “Please do forgive my brevity in our reacquainting, there are a number of people I have yet to greet. Perhaps we will be able to… better familiarize ourselves later?”

Inwardly, Kat sighed. He’d bested her in this small move, even if she had gotten under his skin. It wasn’t entirely false that they knew each other, but one night of a drunken Garlean groping her like she was a sack of popotos before passing out was hardly something to discuss openly. No, there was no way she could decline his general offer without committing social suicide this evening. While being associated with him would make it easier to navigate the social scene, he was the last person she wanted to be attached to in the minds of others.

So, she did what she could, and smiled graciously, nodding as she spoke clearly and loudly, “Should the opportunity arise, and our cups be full, I would like nothing more.” It was a small barb, one that she didn’t expect to be discerned by the crowd around them, but it was a barb meant for him. With an achingly subtle sneer, Cassian turned to find other party-goers to greet. 

It took less than a minute for another to step into Cassian’s place. By greeting her deliberately and associating with her, he’d rent asunder the stigma that surrounded her. Now Kat would have to deal with the parade of faces, many of whom she had already met and catalogued, once again. 

You’re right, One. Fuck that man.

Ironically, we haven’t. 

That’s the point.

Blue dress is coming over! And yes, fuck him.

It was not terribly long before the dark, lacquered doors at the end of the hall swung wide, the aged head servant from Kat’s arrival acting as herald. “Good Lords and Ladies, Gentlemen and Women. At your leisure, the dining hall is now open.”

Immediately, there was a cordial, patient rush of people to the dining hall. Naturally it was, in essence, purely a case of migrating from one area for gossiping to another, but it was progress of a sort. Making her own way into the dining hall, Kat once more had to take in the spectacle borne of wealth and appreciation for interior decor. The checkerboard marble floor gave way to one that was of solid black marble, seams of gold in the tiles giving it a splash of decadent color. Adding to the color palette were red banners, some with the Garlean emblem, others without, spaced evenly along two of the walls and between the twin staircases that curved up to the second floor. The fourth wall, while also bearing red drapes and curtains, primarily consisted of large windows flanking sets of open doors, leading to a grand balcony.

The table, which stood as the centerpiece of the entire room, was massive. A red cloth runner split the table in twain visually, but by all appearances it was a single, seamless expression of extreme craftsmanship. A warm sienna, the wood grain was almost indistinguishable from all the work that had been put into it. As she was led to her seat second to the right of the table’s head, Kat tried to suss out whether it was a single object, or if there were sleeves cleverly disguised. 

That HAS to be multiple trees. There’s no way that it’s a single piece.

At a glance, I don’t see any divisions. It looks solid. 

I’m with Four, no way it’s not composite. 

Still looks good. 

Her chair held out for one of the servants -the same miqo’te woman who had first greeted her, curiously, she claimed her seat, the servant woman helping her scoot in to a comfortable degree. Kat turned her head to offer the woman her thanks, but she was already gone. Off to tend to another guest, no doubt.. Shrugging, Kat turned her attention forward, just in time to see Cassian being seated across from her, next to a spindly, anxious-looking man she recognized from earlier as one Bicchus nan Dichus. 

Dinner was going to be interesting. And long.

[kattloaf]

Arrival (Dinner Party pt. 1)

Kat arrived at her destination, curiously enough, by carriage. Drawn by horses, no less. Arriving at the small town that nestled itself along the river delta pouring into the Bounty, it had been almost suspiciously easy to arrange for transportation. The town was scarcely more than a fishing village, if she were to be tactless. A slice of kitsch if euphemistic. Though, her consensus concluded, if the owners of the manse that sat above the coastal valley held events often, it would be sensible business to offer such. And with having such a manor with important personages visiting, the town had prospered as well, if out of Imperial necessity. There was an airship dock at the edge of town now, made in the style that only Garlean utilitarianism could embody. 

We’re wasting time dwelling on this.

No we aren’t, it could be relevant if we need to escape, or if Marius has to snag us.

Because we trust him enough to rely on that.

Yes. We do. 

Banishing her thoughts, Kat turned her attention to the sprawling property her carriage was now entering.The ground well-kept, the road leading to it made of Garlean cermet with white stone walls flanking it. Hedgerows and canopies of beautifully curated and tended trees stood sentinel over the road, the hues of a pleasant autumn gracing the leaves with vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows. Leaving the canopied archway to the estate, the next sight to greet Kat were expansive gardens flanking her approach. Each garden section -and they were clearly partitioned- was lush and verdant. The first two, one on each side, were filled with an untold variety of flora in every shade of the rainbow, and all those between. She even saw, in a small corner of one of the gardens, desert saffron. As the carriage continued, they passed by a pair of gardens that consisted solely of manicured hedgerows nearly ten fulms high. Reaching the midpoint of the two gardens, they passed beneath an arch draped in ivy and, amazingly, the same hedgerows.

Hedge mazes. Of course there are hedge mazes

We enjoy mazes. 

They’re too gameable. Just hug the right and you’ll escape eventually. 

Traps. All of them. 

As they exited the confinement of the hedge mazes that loomed on either side, Kat noticed something she should have much earlier: water. Each of the gardens was surrounded by a stone-lined moat, isolating them from one another. Rising in her seat, she peered over the edge of the stonework lining the road, finding a similar moat separating her from the gardens. Certainly, this made watering the plants more feasible, assuming they didn’t have some more automated methods. To join the gardens, she noted, there were bridges of that same white stone, the railings and stone posts having decorative carvings in them. Save for the hedge maze, all the gardens had these stone railings at their edge, lest someone stumble into the channels of water surrounding. With the third set of gardens, which were more sparsely flowered and featured a trimmed lawn and fountains, they passed a tower-like gatehouse, the guards manning it wearing the local style of Garlean livery. 

And so, Kat passed into what could be the coeurl’s den. The third gardens angled outward and around the edges of a large, cermet and stonework rotunda, one made for allowing the carriages and vehicles of guests to arrive, disembark their passengers, then head for a small branching road she’d passed that undoubtedly led to stables and garages.

The manor itself was, compared to the looming grandeur of some she’d seen, fairly narrow in presentation.This was, however, something of a false presentation. The manor was quite sizable, as she’d seen on approach. It’s architect, clearly the daring sort, had constructed it to span the river that fed the town below. Sitting across one final bridge -that appeared retractable by some magitek device- the building was of indeterminate styling, bearing elements of gothic architecture and that of a more ‘recent’ style. Of course, recent was relative, but it was a fairly prevalent blending in the region, as Kat had noticed. This was far from the only richly-designed building in the region, though perhaps one of the most striking. A prominent balcony sat above the entryway, its support being a solid stone working of artfully engraved architecture. Two round towers stood at either end of its front facing, small, rectangular windows set in them on each of the three floors as they stood watch over the larger, more grand windows at their flanks. 

Sitting at the crown of the second floor windows, separating it from the steeply angled roof, was a stone division of the most graceful sort. Engraved and molded images of chocobos and horses running outward toward the towers, some with rider others without were there. Positioned nearer to the entry was a magnificently carved scene of men and women enjoying a ball or gala of some fashion. And, in the very center, and in a markedly more recently-added panel, was the symbol of the Garlean Empire. One had to be clear, in the event the banners that hung between each set of windows was not clear enough of representation.

The banners, admittedly, were of their own coloration to denote the province as well as to appeal to local sensibilities, but they were still Garlean. 

The carriage drew to a stop, and one of the attendants, who were in a decidedly less nationalistic attire, opened the door for Kat. Exiting delicately, she put on her ‘face.’ She’d thought long and hard as a consensus while selecting which face she should don.The presentation one gave to others at formal events was important. For such reasons, she had reached, by consensus, to go as herself. Mostly. Certainly she was going to play the charming, intelligent socialite, that much was a given; but there was no viable personality to adopt that would benefit her here. Perhaps that is what they wanted, to remove her from affectation, from masquerade. 

As her carriage rolled off to the stable another attendant  -a miqo’te woman- guided Kat across the bridge to the entry. Her invitation in hand, Kat and the miqo’te came to a halt at the door. 

“Your invitation, madam?” HIs voice was polite, but firm. His grey, nearly-white hair and generous, but altogether too formal, smile did little to endear him to Kat, but no servant of station achieved their position without learning how to play the game of politics.

Returning the smile to the man, Kat offered her invitation over. After a cursory examination of it, the man bowed his head in understanding before giving a nod to the miqo’te woman. At that, the woman turned on a heel to return whence she had come.“Master Alfius will be most pleased that you accepted his invitation. Lady Alfius as well, no doubt. If you would follow me.” Gesturing broadly to the interior with a sweep of his arm, he ushered Kat into the estate. 

“Master Alfius was concerned that given the current… diplomatic situation you might be disinclined to attend.” Their steps echoed off a hypnotically tiled floor laid with white and black marble tiles in a checkerboard. The walls were a stark, but not uncompromising, white, with broad, tall archways that bore doors to other chambers. At the far end of the entry hall resided a large set of double doors of a rich, deep wood, lacquered to a shine. No doubt those were to a grander hall. Providing an even, unwavering light were magitek lights set into more antiquated chandeliers of a dark metal. 

 “It was no small feat by which the Lord and Lady were able to send such an invitation. It took some time to find a courier who was willing to travel so far… abroad.” The subtle hint of condescension in his voice at the word ‘abroad’ was almost palpable. One didn’t have to be Garlean proper to feel superior to others, after all. Reaching one of those archways leading aside, the manservant turned to face Kat, his hand at the door knob. “But here you are, much to our delight.” Still smiling his professional smile with nary a trace of the prior condescension, he opened the door, stepping in to announce his charge.

“My Lord and Lady,” the head servant announced in an assertive, but not overbearing voice, “may I present to you Lady Kattyne Aeris of Eorzea.” The older man stepped aside, letting Kat stride into the room with practiced, courtly gait. Put simply, the interior of the room was so very unlike the entry hall. Her footfalls softened as she stepped onto a lush, red carpet. Where white had been the dominant color there, here it was the burnt sienna of wooden paneling, gold filigree adorning each section. No small number of paintings in ornate frames rested on those walls, with a grand, white and gold-decorated fireplace in the middle of the wall to her right. At the far end of the room were a set of windows astride a pair of double doors leading to a balcony, rich red curtains tucked neatly at each side for privacy when desired. The centerpiece of the room was a grand piano, its lid closed. On either side were assortments of small tables of intricate design accompanying chairs and sofas of a devilishly comfortable look. 

More important than the decor, more notable than the gold filigree, or the opulence of comfort presented, were the two occupants of the room. Situated at one of the couches were a man and a woman, the man standing and the woman seated primly. The man was fairly tall, easily six fulms and several ilms at a guess. He had sharp features that were only just barely dulled by age, offset by the sharp, but not harsh, severity of his crystal blue eyes. Clean shaven, his hair was dark, save where it had been salted and greyed at the fringes and near his temples. He was built strong, but not bulky, shoulders broad without being ungainly. All accounted, he was the sort of man who looked suited both to the life presented now and a life of honest work. Naturally, the well-tailored tailcoat and red vest he wore precluded the ‘honest work’ notion. 

The woman, who rose as Kat entered, was different, but by the same token similar. She, too, had sharper features that had been smoothed slightly with age, and eyes that were clear and sharp with intellect. But where the man was built of very equal proportions, she was more slender, teetering on willowy. The fluid motion with which she rose implied a natural grace to her, that of someone familiar and comfortable with their body. She stood tall as well, perhaps an ilm or two shorter than the man, and her hair of spun golden silk sat neatly tucked into a bun. Her eyes were of a paler, less vibrant blue, hints of grey creeping in to incite uncertainty of hue. Her dress was of a regal purple, its skirt billowing out to a proper, but not overly voluminous width.  

There was something about her, Kat noted as she approached a more reasonable distance for conversation. Something maddeningly intangible, like the shadow that flees as you look at it. The something that, the harder you look at it, the less visible it becomes. Nothing magic, Kat was certain, but it was still something. Or, perhaps, it was just the undercurrent of anxiety coupled with the awkward silence that briefly fell between them. It was quick, and even more quickly concealed, but a ripple of shock flashed briefly over the both of them as they studied her, the woman more notably. 

They know something.

I concur, but what, precisely?

They were expecting us, we know. Are they surprised at no company? 

She looks like us. 

K-One, the latter voice, was quieter than the others, more emotional. Of course, that was the aspect she had chosen at their onset. Her errant minds refocused on the present in the blink of an eye, if not quicker. The glories of the speed at which thoughts process. The man was about to speak, too. Good. If the silence dragged on it would truly become awkward. 

“Welcome! Welcome. We are… so very glad you accepted our invitation. Knowing the current lack of diplomacy between nations, we both knew it was a tenuous prospect at best, but all the same, welcome!” 

As the man drew close, with the woman a step behind him, Kat paused, putting on a somewhat bashful smile. “You’ll have to forgive me, I am… not entirely certain of the local customs regarding greetings. It’s something so small, yet bears so much significance and, quite frankly, variation depending where you are.” She knew. She’d done her research. But presenting a less worldly persona was likely her best avenue of proceeding. For now.

Thankfully, the man laughed, nodding. “I understand completely.” He glanced to the woman briefly, who offered a small, encouraging smile as he continued. “Were it not for my aides who are more… well-versed in regional customs, I am quite certain I would make a grand fool of myself those times I find myself visiting a new land. All the same, I am Tidus het Alfius and this is my wife, Kamila..”

At this, the woman stepped forward, offering a hand, which Kat took in a polite shake. “A pleasure to finally meet you.” Her voice was pleasant and cordial in a manner befitting the situation. More akin to how Kat conducted herself, really. She was practiced in the art of social maneuvering, and maintained some measure of control. 

“The pleasure is mine.” Kat replied, smiling warmly to them both. “I will be candid in saying that I was, frankly, shocked at receiving an invitation such as yours. Forgetting the politics that would cast a shadow over it, I had no real notion that any would see fit to bestow such an honor to one such as  me. It was a… welcome surprise.” 

The woman -Kamila- was first to respond, radiating an at-ease charm that implied she felt she had that much-sought control of the situation. “Well when we saw the wonders you worked with the Majestic Imperial Theater Company, it was only natural that we should do so. Despite their… recent departure from the Empire proper, they are a most talented group, and to see their performances so marvelously complemented was a grand spectacle to behold.” 

At this Tidus chimed in, nodding his assent with Kamila’s opinion. “Quite so. It was not the first performance of theirs we have seen, but it was,” he looked to Kamila, hesitating incrementally as he spoke and, with a nod, gained her agreement to his view, “definitely… the best we have seen. And since it would be more… difficult to honor the entire Company at this time, what better than to honor you for your great part in it? Ah, but where are my manners? Come, we’ve some time yet before the other guests arrive, let us show you the estate.” 

At that, Kat tensed. Others? It was only sensible, but she had been quietly hoping it was a more personal affair. That or a bald-faced trap. She could work with those. An actual dinner party proper, while not something she was unaccustomed to, not something she was looking forward to. Not with the politics at play, much less the fact she’d actively murdered at least a good dozen Imperial subjects of varying statuses. 

Tonight was going to be… interesting.

[kattloaf]

A Morning in Kugane pt. 2

Exhausted, Kat opened her eyes. She’d left Para’s new apartment two hours ago, though her respite there had done little to sate the fatigue she felt. She’d endured worse, but she hadn’t been set up for a confrontation with someone that could kill her nearly on a whim.  Expelling a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair and strove to refocusing her thoughts. Yuki’s familiar was dead, at least. It had taken a bit of work, but it wouldn’t be helping that harpy in the confrontation that was coming. Amusingly, she hadn’t been the one to do it. It was amazing what could be accomplished with a hired man, a bow and quiver, and a stroll through Shirogane.

That was done now, and it had certainly set Yuki looking for her. Leaning forward, Kat poked her head out of the alcove she’d taken to. It was a small thing, a recess between two buildings that seemed more architectural oversight than intended feature. The alcove suited her needs, however: offering concealment and a good vantage on the street she’d chosen. If she was going to fight Yuki, she was making the venue quiet, but easily accessible. So Kat chose her spot, and settled in to wait.

Unfortunately, the closer it had come to dawn, the worse things were getting. A thick, all-concealing fog had filtered in from the sea, pouring into Kugane like a grey, cold soup. On one hand, it meant that passersby and Sekeisegumi couldn’t observe what was about to happen. On the other, it made it nigh impossible for her to conceal herself, as her movement would stir up the fog, how dense it was.  Ultimately, Yuki had the advantage because of it, and damned if Kat didn’t know it.

She couldn’t wait forever, though. Dawn was approaching. Leaving her hiding spot with a soft groan, her muscles protesting their having been unused as long as they had. Kat began to proceed down the dark, empty street. The few lights that were still lit in the paradoxically early-but-late hour cast an eerie glow to the fog where their brightness could penetrate. A lightless, cold abyss interspersed the islands of light., gentle eddies in the fog giving the illusion of forms in the darkness.

As Kat slowly walked the lane, a man slipped out of one of the houses, a bundle of fishing gear under one arm. He was one of the early-risers, those whose livelihood required being out before most all else. Though none were evident on this little street, bakers would also be rising at this hour. Closing the door behind him, the man peered through the fog, missing Kat. Unsure of the man, Kat had immediately stopped, remaining motionless in the fog. Shuddering and tucking his clothes tight, the man hurried off into the grey, disappearing utterly in a mere handful of steps.

Exhaling a sig, Kat waited for the man to disappear before resuming her walk. She knew Yuki was out here, stalking her like a cat stalks a mouse, and something as simple as that could have been a trap. Fortunately, this mouse had claws of its own, and was prepared to use them.Continuing on into the stagnant abyss, Kat left the small island of light that marked the fisherman’s house behind, its warm glow leaching into the fog before fading into nonexistence. She kept her pace slow in spite of the urge she felt to run, her eyes searching for any signs of movement. Even then, she almost missed it.

A subtle shift in the fog ahead almost went unnoticed, were it not for the curling tendrils that lazily drifted to one side. Stopping short, Kat reached out a hand blindly. She had suspicions, which were soon confirmed when she struck a thin, nigh invisible wire suspended across her path. Sharp to the touch, the razor wire was definitely meant for her. It was time. Yuki had arrived.

Turning around slowly, Kat peered into the formless nothingness, seeking to glimpse the woman’s outline. It was ultimately fruitless, however, as Kat heard the woman well before she saw her. Dirt crunched underfoot as Yuki drew near, her form taking shape in the fog. Kat didn’t hesitate, slipping a hand to the bandolier of throwing knives tucked into her sash. If Yuki was going to strike, she couldn’t afford to be unprepared. Yuki wore similar clothing as she had before: an elegantly designed kimono, though of black and silver now. At her hip was a wakizashi, a Hingan-styled blade of middling length. Shorter than a katana, it was still just as deadly, if lacking the same length It’s what Kat didn’t see that concerned her more. Yuki had clearly thrown a blade with the razor wire tied to it in front of her, and it was improbable that that had been her only other weapon.

“You killed my familiar.” It wasn’t a question, but a declaration. It was true, in a roundabout fashion. Given how it could see through illusions, Kat had needed it dead to stand a chance. It could be terribly hindering, only having one bag of tricks to pull from. Something she was working on with Anhe, granted, but one didn’t progress overnight.

“You say that like you hadn’t expected it, Yuki.” Keeping her hand on the throwing knife, Kat shifted to present less of a target, facing one shoulder towards the woman to present a profile. “We both know how the other likes to operate. It was a necessary measure.” Belatedly, Kat dons a smile. “Besides, I didn’t actually kill it.”

Yuki remained expressionless, her face a mask of composure. Her eyes, though, were the burning embers of a suppressed fury. “But you had a hand in it, naturally.” The woman paused, flipping a hand in an assumed carefree manner. “Of course I expected it. I wouldn’t have sent it after you if I hadn’t.” Yuki smiled faintly, an expression that never quite made it to her eyes as she raised a hand to tuck a stray bang back behind her ear. “I had to see if you had grown incompetent in your retirement.” Eyes locked on Kat, her smile crept wider, expanding into a malicious grin.

Kat kept her eyes on the woman’s, always keeping that hand in her periphery as it tucked that bang away in a convenient, slow fashion. Knowing what was to come, Kat struck first. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the knife she’d been gripping whistling through the air toward Yuki. Expecting retaliation to come simultaneously, Kat immediately tucked into a roll to the side.  Completing the roll, she immediately dodged again to the side as a dagger-thin lance of compressed ice struck where she had just been. Kat was always the weaker of the two when it had come to aether and manipulation of the aspects. It was something they both knew, and Yuki had never been one to let her talents languish. The familiar Yuki had kept was only one expression of her talent with magic, and not the strongest.

Kat couldn’t stop moving. If she did, Yuki would impale her against a wall with a shard of ice. So, she kept moving, getting a small distance between herself and Yuki. It was just enough for the fog to remove details from both of their figures. Needing to counterattack, Kat flung a trio of knives at the dark mass that was Yuki. She was rewarded with watching the black outline deftly evade all three, another spear of ice being offered as a response. Fortunately, the fog was providing just enough cover to make her less of a target, and the lance passed by her with a quiet whistling, burying itself in the wall of a building. Given enough time, Yuki would eventually hit her. Kat needed to end this quickly.

Another bladed lance of ice shot past Kat as she slipped behind a wooden pillar, hesitating long enough for another to pass on the other side of the beam. She couldn’t dodge forever, and she only had a handful of throwing knives left before needing to get up close. Yuki, conversely, could fire off ice spears so long as she had the aether to. Given that fog was comprised of water vapor, it seemed unlikely that the woman would run out anytime soon if she pulled from her surroundings. If Kat had more ability with aether she might be able to do something similar. Regrettably, her training with Anhe was still in its infancy, and she was far removed from anything so competent, much less useful.

Continuing to move in a wide circle around Yuki, Kat heard the woman laugh. It was a cold, heartless sound that could send a shiver down your spine in a hot spring. The kind of laugh that came from someone assured in their success. “You couldn’t just have the decency to let me kill you, could you? You haaad to play this game. No matter, I’ll enjoy it more this way. At least it’s entertaining.” A trio of ice spears careened through the fog toward Kat, the first two narrowly missing her and the third slicing through her clothes to leave a razor thin slash on her upper arm.. Hissing in pain, Kat threw two more knives at Yuki, gripping a dagger after and charging in after them.

Using what aether she had available to her, she split off into a pair of illusions, one moving left, the other moving right as though to flank Yuki and strike from the sides. The woman’s eyes darted to both, briefly, then focused back on Kat. Yuki knew what to look for, her wakizashi ringing out as it cleared her sheath. Kat struck high as her illusions’ ‘attacks’ landed, false images leaving no trace of their efforts before dissipating. Steel meeting steel with a sharp ringing, Yuki blocked Kat’s attack deftly. Undaunted, Kat used her free hand to jab at Yuki’s side. That, too, was blocked by Yuki, and she sprung back to disengage. Kat wasn’t afforded the opportunity to regroup following the disengage, as Yuki leapt after her. A pair of ice lances forming in the air, they hurtled toward Kat even as she turned Yuki’s advance aside with a parry from her dagger.

This was not going well for Kat. Yuki had more weapons she could bring to bear, and Kat was accustomed to engagements that weren’t protracted. Surprise and distraction were her forte, but against an enemy that had both environment and familiarity? Those cantrips fell well short of what she needed. So, she did the one thing that she could. Pivoting and slashing at Yuki’s side fruitlessly, she sprinted off into the mist. She didn’t go far, only enough that she would be rendered invisible by the fog. Once out of sight, she tucked in close to a column and wrapped what little light there was around her form with aether, becoming unseen. She needed to regroup. To refocus.

The crunch of dirt under Yuki’s feet followed after Kat, skidding to a stop as Yuki realized what Kat had done. “Has my little sand rat grown tired already?” Yuki’s voice, taunting and arrogant, floated through the air, the mist making it impossible to know exactly where she was. “You should have known that coming to my domain was a mistake. If you had any wisdom you would have stayed in Ul’dah, or languished in Radz-at-Han a used up, worthless whore.” Punctuating the night, the sound of ice shattering filled the air. “At least that way you would’ve lived longer. Our… masters would have kept you from harm.” The distaste in her voice at the word  ‘masters’ was palpable. Clearly, Yuki believed herself above them here. In her current situation, Kat couldn’t argue.

Another sound echoed out from the grey abyss, though it took Kat a long moment to distinguish the noise. It was a muted twinkling noise, like glass clattering to the ground. The sound repeated once more, then again. Only after the third repetition did it hit Kat. Not glass. Ice. As the realization hit Kat, a patch of fog in the still-visible distance grew still, paled, then fell to the ground. Yuki was freezing the fog. A cold knot formed in the pit of Kat’s stomach as she watched another patch fall to the ground with a muffled twinkling. Yuki probably had their meeting area cordoned off by the razor wire Kat had encountered earlier. All she had to do was freeze patches of fog until she found Kat. More fog rolled in, certainly, but if Kat were to move it would cause a drift, and she would be easily spotted.

She couldn’t panic, though. There was a way out of this, she just needed to focus, and think. Closing her eyes in spite of another patch of frozen fog falling to the ground, Kat drew in a deep breath and sank into her Sea of Stone.  It was a meditative state that allowed her to detach from emotion, to focus her thoughts in a cold, logical way. All the various feelings and worries Kat had simply dashed themselves against the cool, implacable Sea, letting her mind be struck clear of extraneous thoughts. It was also where she went, mentally, when she had practiced channeling her aether as Anhe had shown her. And, partially out of newly-formed habit, she did that.

In the outside world, Yuki  called out again as another patch of fog clattered to the ground softly. To Kat, that didn’t matter right now. Right now what mattered was resting in the Sea of Stone, and channeling her aether therein. With each controlled breath, she drew more of it forth; more than she had been accustomed to all these years, and more than she had been allowing herself to use on this trip. Kat was exhausted from the past two days, admittedly, but there was more for her to tap into than she’d been accustomed to using. More than she had let herself use thusfar in her engagement with Yuki. She would have to improve at that, in the future.  Letting the aether flow through her, her mind and body focused, she tried something she hadn’t before.

During her training when she was younger, Kat’s masters had, after she had displayed sufficient mastery of meditation, told her to expand her focus. To not dwell only on her internal thoughts and processes, but on all else around her. To ‘expand her awareness’ as they had framed it. In time, she had grown fairly adept at it, and it had served her well in her work. To be able to hear, see, feel her surrounding had always served her well.

Now, she did much the same, but while still channeling her aether. At first, she only heard, felt, smelled, tasted. The sound of Yuki’s feet crunching in the dirt, the distant toll of a ship’s bell, the cool mist gently caressing her still-unseen form as she tasted the faint dampness of the air. Then she began to feel more. There was more there to be felt, more to see. Kat was getting her first glimpse of it, and it caused her to gasp.

Strong, vibrant sources took form first, Yuki was a beacon of energy as she caused another patch of fog to freeze, which itself was noticeable in its own, small way. As Kat continued to focus outward, she began to sense the ambient aether around her. It was a rhapsodic experience, sensing so much she had never even had a hint at existing, and it was everywhere. The very ground thrummed with a latent energy of its own, the buildings around her bearing residual aether of varying hues. The air…. The air.

Kat didn’t know why, much less how, but there was something about the air that resonated with her. In some inexplicable, wonderful way, she could feel the air most keenly. How it languished, stagnant and unmoving in the pre-dawn mist. She could also pick up on how it wanted to move. How it needed to move. Internalizing that compulsion, Kat gave in to instinct. She was entirely unsure of what she was doing, but she was letting her mind and body do what felt right. Moving fluidly, she stepped forward, the mists swirling around her as she cut through them like a scythe through wheat.

Still channeling her aether, Kat’s entire body felt as though it were humming, her heart pounding out a rhythm that the energy in her body played its melody to. It was the musician, and she was the dancer. Distantly, as though from a malm away, she heard Yuki cry out in triumph. If she had paid heed to it, the searing malice in the voice would have chilled her bones. But she didn’t. Kat’s eyes still closed, she took several more steps, the rhythm of her heart and body speeding up. She felt the air around her shift, a lance of ice hurtling toward her. She knew it was coming, though. She felt the water in the air condense, fed by aether from Yuki, freezing into a long, bladed shape. Kat felt as the lance cut through the air, and she pivoted on a heel at just the right moment in a spin to the left. She had long revealed herself, if only by way of the mist, but it left the evasion plain for Yuki to see.

The woman scoffed angrily, aghast that she’d not only missed, but in such a flippant manner. Kat was still oblivious to this, however, as the rhythm inside of her intensified. She felt as though she might burst, how strong what was in her pounded at her. Entire body moving and swaying to the ‘music’, Kat spun, hands drawing both daggers in accordance to what she felt. Mid-spin, she felt a shift. It was time. Snapping her eyes open, she focused on Yuki as her entire body came alive with energy. Exiting the spin, she planted a foot and leapt, spinning once more, this time in the air. As she spun, she brought a dagger up to execute a downward slash. Yuki was well away from her still, at least ten fulms. Kat caught sight of the woman just as another spear of ice blew through her loose hair. And then it happened.

All the energy Kat had felt, that pounding rhythm that had taken control of her, focused to a single, finite moment. The dagger in her hand came alight with a green energy, and she executed the slash of her blade through the air. The aether leaving her, the blade shone brighter for an instant, before cutting a swath through the mists towards Yuki. Fog parted instantly, leaving the space between her and Yuki devoid of its obfuscating presence. The woman had no time to react, other than to stare with jaw dropped as a focused, piercing gale cut into her, slicing through her clothes and flesh as though they were rice paper.

Landing, Kat nearly fell to her feet, the drain on her aether shocking her in a way a bucket full of ice water couldn’t even compare to. Gasping, she stumbled to her hands and knees, the edges of her vision blurring for the briefest of moments. She had to get up, Yuki was still here, and she was sure to take advantage of the momentary weakness. Then she heard a thump, followed by silence. Looking up, Kat gawked. She’d done… something. She wasn’t certain what, but she had done it. Rising carefully to her feet, she kept both daggers at the ready as she hesitantly strode over to where Yuki lay, unmoving.

Kat drew near, blinking in utter perplexity at what she had wrought. The woman’s black kimono had been rent from left shoulder to right hip, the silk darkened from the blood oozing out rapidly from the narrow, deep slash cutting diagonally across Yuki’s torso. Choking on the blood that was coating her mouth and lips, Yuki gurgled her way through an inhalation. Her voice was already thready and weak as she spoke. “That was surprising.” Her chest falling as she exhaled noisily, it didn’t rise again.

Kat continued to watch Yuki’s body for a spell, partially to ensure that the woman was not feigning death, but also because she was being assailed by a flummox of emotions. The confrontation had been a long time coming, that was certainly true. Part of Kat hadn’t expected to win, though. Or, at least, not in this manner. Not with, of all things, magic. Then there was the part of her that was sorry for Yuki’s death. They had been close, once. Friends. That had been ruined, of course, but she still felt sorrow at the loss. Strange, how you could feel so about someone who had been naught but an obsessive enemy for years. The world was somehow less for it. A little less vibrancy to the world. Fortunately, there were other colors to paint with besides obsession and a hunger for retribution, but in this moment, fog wasn’t the only thing leaching color out of the world.

Sheathing her blades, Kat knelt down to picked up Yuki’s lifeless form. Enemy though she may have been, she had once been a friend, and Kat couldn’t leave her to be found by some local. She deserved that much, and more besides. Thankfully, Kat knew where to take her.

[kattloaf]

A Morning in Kugane pt. 1

Twelve I hope Yuki isn’t behind this.

This was Kat’s thought as she wove her way through the morning crowd of the Kugane Dori market. The sun had only been up for an hour, but the day had begun long ago for many of the merchants and vendors that filled the stands. Fishermen had already brought in their haul, selling either to the myriad yatai owners or other wholesale food merchants. Bakers and butchers alike also catered to this market. Then there were the tangible goods sellers: silk merchants, jewelers, even a balding man in a threadbare kimono selling tamagushi for those wanting to pay respects to the kami.

Had it been any other day, and Kat not been drained both physically and emotionally, it would have been pleasant to see and immerse herself in the sights, sounds, and smells of the market. Instead, she slipped her hand into the sleeve of the kimono she wore -a simple but elegant affair she’d purchased immediately on arriving to Kugane- and removed an ether vial. Pushing past the slightly acerbic aftertaste, she gulped down the contents of the vial before returning it to the sleeve it had come from. Normally she only kept two on her, but knowing she’d be completely drained after using aetheryte travel to reach Kugane, she’d brought nearly two dozen. Even then, she might run out before she accomplished her goal.

On arriving, she had to drink four purely to keep from collapsing in exhaustion following the journey. Then, there was the matter of maintaining an illusion constantly. The number of tall and tanned blonde women in Kugane could probably be tallied on one hand, two if it were a busy day for foreigners. So, to help become somewhat less ostentatious and recognizable, she’d donned one of her faces. Yasmin’s, specifically. Rather than blonde, her hair was a luxurious raven hue. Her skin was no longer tan but rather pale, the freckles now dotting her cheeks stood out as she looked at the world through brown eyes. She wasn’t above being noticed, but at least now she couldn’t be as readily picked out of the crowd at a glance.

Yasmin. Every time she wore the young woman’s face, affected her voice, regret gnawed at Kat. The girl hadn’t deserved what she received. Not in the slightest. Her only fault was being a loving daughter to a man who chose the wrong business partners. Closing her eyes for a moment as she loitered near an intersection, Kat uttered a silent plea for forgiveness, should Yasmin be listening, somewhere.

Opening her eyes, she turned right at the intersection, heading away from the markets and over one of the large, beautifully maintained bridges that spanned the waterways carving Kugane into a collection of developed islands. Separated slightly from the churning mass of humanity, she got a better view of the city.  Simply put, it was magnificent. Elegant design and traditional style lent an ageless, stately beauty that had no equal in Thavnair or Eorzea. Were things different, she’d spend the rest of her life here. Sadly,things were not different. Passing over the crest of the bridge, her view diminished slightly, but all she need to was look up to see the buildings surrounding the small section of the city ijin like herself had access to.

Reaching the far end of the bridge in short order, she found herself in a new crowd. This one was more varied, being the plaza that bore the city’s aetheryte. She’d arrived here scarcely six hours ago herself, hands slapping the masonry as she staved off unconsciousness. That she hadn’t collapsed insensate bode well for her capacity for both magic and travel. Perhaps she was getting stronger. Or maybe she was just lucky this time. At the time it was largely empty; a few drunkards who had left the hostelry but didn’t want the ‘party’ to end, the odd local whose business or lifestyle dictated they be out at night, others who had no discernible reason for being out but were all the same.

Now, there were adventurers. More than she remembered from her last trip several years ago. They varied from mountainous Roegadyn to diminutive but surprisingly deft Lalafell.  Can thank the Scions for that one. It was no small secret why the city had seen a major upswing in travel, as the liberation of Doma offered myriad opportunities for the daring and cunning. Now, everyone was sailing eastward with the hope of making the big treasure, or landing the big contract. And, having an aetheryte, Kugane was that much more accessible.

Seeing that aetheryte, its blue luminescence suffusing the area in a soft light, drew Kat’s mind back to why she was even there in the first place. Zana. She was unaccounted for, and Yuki might’ve been involved. That was reason enough for her to act immediately as she had. Once she’d arrived in Kugane, she hadn’t wasted time. First, she checked with the Bokairo Inn and confirmed that Zana did, in fact, have a room. Then, she’d gotten to work on asking around.

Early thought it was, she’d been able to gather useful information from several locals. Apparently, an ijin had been in a disagreement with a local woman when a smoke bomb went off, both women disappearing. There were also mentions of a fox with the local woman, and that she had seemed ‘intimidating’. That fit Yuki well enough, Kat thought. She’d long had a fox as a familiar to do her spying and following for her, and while intimidating isn’t the word she’d use, she had a strong presence. So, not wasting any time, she’d hurried to where the incident had occurred. Regrettably, there were a pair of Sekiseigumi watching the area, but as she’d often been told by her masters, ‘A guard who doesn’t look for danger, sees none.’ Their lack of attentiveness was her boon, and she was able to slip past them with a proper application of illusion and a thrown pebble.

The location still bore the grating odor of smoke, as well as a pungent herbal scent that made Kat’s head spin every time she got a good whiff of it. She’d also found two much more disheartening things. The first was a sandal, which was innocuous enough without any context. The second, however, was much more damning. Tucked away in the shadow of one of the steps was a dagger that was easily recognizable as Zana’s. Immediately she’d grabbed both and fled the scene. Her exhaustion reaching dangerous levels, she could only maintain the spell for another minute or two safely.

Now, hours later, she was in search of something else. Or, more accurately, someone else. Yuki knew she was in Kugane. Already she’d seen her damnable vulpine familiar twice, once watching her from the corner of a side-alley entrance, once hopping from rooftop to slanted rooftop as it trailed after her. The only question that remained was when and where the woman would choose to ‘coincidentally’ find Kat. Areas with large crowds were unlikely, as Yuki would want her somewhere with a modicum of privacy. A deserted street would be the most preferable to the harpy, but there was no way in the seven hells Kat was going to grant her that wish. Not if she could help it.

Crossing over into the Rakuza District, the crowds once more thinned. There were still a healthy -and safe- number of people milling about, but most had a purpose, a destination. Barring that, they were tending to some chore or duty imparted to them either by necessity or their taskmasters. One woman sat on a wooden stool, her sleeves pulled up and back so that she could wash clothes in a wooden tub. One man carried two large basins of rice strung up by a pole he bore over his shoulder. A pair of Sekiseigumi walked down the street, though mercifully they were not the same two that had been posted watch. Those two hadn’t seen Kat, but a bit of healthy paranoia seldom hurt. Kat was just about to turn the corner and proceed down the next street when something odd struck her. It was the smell of sweet honeysuckle. Given the location, it was a stark contrast to the smell of wood smoke, cooking noodles, and the general undercurrent of vaguely malodorous scents that accompany developed settlement.

Yuki.

Putting on an act, she continued along her path, projecting an air of unperturbed indifference as she rounded the corner to a somewhat less populated street. This was what she’d been wanting, after all. Kat had specifically set out in the morning hours with the intention of luring Yuki into confronting, or at least meeting, her. Kat only got a few fulms down the road before a woman’s laughter filled the air. It wasn’t a laugh of true mirth, though there was some to be had. Nor was it a cynical, harsh laugh, though that too was present in the sound. It fell somewhere in the middle, equal parts amused and joyous, sarcastic and malicious. And over all that was sprinkled the honeyed glaze of a cloying, mellifluous voice the likes of which could bring a man to his knees.

She spoke in Hingan, as much for posturing as it was for convenience. Everything was posturing with Yuki. “Oh what a delightful morning this is. I take my morning stroll and what should I find but a desert flower, carried by the wind. You’re quite far from home, to find yourself here.” There was a pause, followed by the hushed whisper as Yuki exhaled. Still facing forward, the pause only made sense to Kat when she caught scent of tobacco and, presumably, a form of opiate on the air.

Turning slowly, still clad in Yasmin’s face, Kat smiled kindly to the woman. Yuki wore a deep red kimono, a trail of ornate blossoms in gold, silver, and white trailing up one sleeve and across the upper portion of the garment. Her black hair was in a neatly-arranged bun, a presumably weaponized pin adorned with a white and gold lotus helping keep it in place. Eyeliner, lipstick and the barest hint of blush were applied with masterful precision and grace. She was the image of exacting beauty. Yet, for all her beauty, there was a coldness to it, an ineffable sense of superiority and callousness. In part, it was her eyes, smiling on the surface, but frigid and predatory underneath.

Kat drew in a breath, the smile on her lips and in her still-brown eyes never wavering even in the slightest as she responded in kind. “You do me honor to bestow such kind and beautiful words. The winds have indeed carried me far, though their caress was gentle and kind.” Her eyes never left Yuki but for a moment, as she watched the pair of Sekiseigumi round the corner and pass from sight. In that moment, however, an orange pile of fur had draped itself over Yuki’s shoulders, black eyes staring at Kat with an intense hunger.

Laughing once more, the sound sickeningly sweet for all its charm, Yuki tosses her head back in apparent ease. “An honor? I simply speak the truth.” She taps her finger on the length of her pipe, her other hand bracing an elbow as she adopted a pensive expression. She knew what she wanted to say, but she had to play her game. “What winds should seek to carry such a delicate and beautiful blossom so far, I wonder? Surely one would not travel so far without a good reason. By crystal no less.” Dropping the smile for a calculated, but convincingly sincere look of concern, she leaned forward, inspecting Kat’s image. Or, to be entirely accurately, Yasmin’s. “Mm… it takes quite a toll, to travel so far by such means. Ul’dah is quite a ways away. Are you certain you are not needing a respite, my dear? I know of a number of generous individuals who would be more than willing to accommodate a beauty such as yourself.” Drawing back, she smiles coyly, raising her pipe to her lips to inhale.

Yuki was right, of course. For all the conviction and willpower she had mustered in her search for Zana, she was absolutely exhausted. To show weakness to someone like Yuki, however, was tantamount to handing the woman a knife with which to be stabbed. She couldn’t allow Yuki to see such weakness, no matter the cost. “A daunting journey, yes, but we desert flowers are a hardy sort. It is necessary, to flourish in the harsh heat and arid clime.”

Tired as Kat was, it was only after she had offered her first response that  Yuki had said Ul’dah, rather than Radz-at-Han. She blinked, feeling her eyes widen a trace. Kat had expected the woman, the information-grubbing bitch that she was, to know of Kat’s whereabouts. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but hearing it was different from knowing it internally. Quickly recovering, she continued. “If you are curious, as I imagine you are, I thought a trip to Kugane was in high order. The changes in the world what they are, it is a good time to travel.”

“Isn’t it? I thought I might take a trip myself sometime, but alas, my engagements in Kugane are demanding of my time.” Yuki rolls her eyes in a dramatic fashion as though to say ‘clients, right?’. The gesture, however, was met with relative impunity by Kat, and the smile Yuki bore faded somewhat. “I am surprised by you, however. Such a trip, I would think you would have brought that little Raen you’ve been playing with.”

Immediately, the blood drained from Kat’s face. Yuki knew of Asami.What’s more, if she knew of Asami, she could reach Asami. I was instantly apparent that Yuki had caught on to her surprise, because the woman promptly leaned in, her voice dropping to a lower, sweetly husky tone. “What, did you think I didn’t know? Tut tut, dear. You should know I always keep a close eye on my former peers.” Drawing back, she kept her eyes on Kat, filled with malicious, satisfied glee as she smiled. “It’s only the responsible thing to do.”

Her exhaustion washing over her, it took Kat longer than she would prefer to recover. Yuki knew everything she needed to endanger others around Kat, and the cold, emotionless malice to do it. Forgoing any further pleasantries, Kat matched eyes with the woman, her lips drawn into a line as she spoke brusquely. “You got into a discussion, then argument with a woman yesterday. She had blue hair and had a knack for the shinobi’s craft. Where is she?” It was probably the worst way to go about dealing with Yuki, her ego being as massive as it was, but Kat was tired, angry, and had no patience for the woman’s tripe.

Yuki lifted a hand, placing it over her chest in a facsimile of shock as she gasped dramatically. “My dear, I have no idea. I certainly met the woman and we spoke, but I have nothing to do with her disappearance. Whoever threw that dreaded smoke bomb made off with her before I could act. I only did the same to avoid suspicion myself.” Dropping the hand, the faux-distress was replaced by an ireful angle of her brows, her mouth tightening as she let the honey in her voice turn to acid. “You would do well to remember where you are, dear. I can have you arrested and executed before noon, should I desire. And that’s if I don’t just do it myself. I could do away with you in front of the Sekiseigumi barracks and no one would even blink.”

Kat just stared back, her countenance and gaze implacable in face of the poison being spit at her. She kept her voice controlled, emotionless. She’d taken the opportunity provided by Yuki’s monologue to fall into the Sea of Stone, where emotion gave way to logic, reason, and composure. It was a state of mind she had been taught to fall into if she needed to center herself, or perform more complex illusions. The clarity and concision it brought were hard to replicate.  “If I find you had anything to do with her disappearance, or if you ever move to strike against me or mine, through foxpaw or on your own, I will finish what I started at our graduation ceremony. I am going to find Zana. If you have harmed her, I’m killing your familiar. If you have killed her, I will burn this city to the ground if it means watching your polished and prim exterior become as ugly and deformed as the soul you claim you have. I hope the rest of your morning is to your liking, Yuki. Goodbye.”

Pivoting on a heel, Kat turned and began to walk away. She got five paces away before Yuki responded, any semblance of composure and sweetness replaced by indignation and fury as her words trembled with rage. Kat had played the woman’s game, and evidently won, given the response she received. Either that or invoked a dangerous enemy unduly. Either worked. “None of them are safe, street rat. Every single one of them will suffer because of you. I swear it by the kami you will weep for this day!”

Kat kept walking, heading for the Bokairo Inn. She was certain the proprietor was Yuki’s to use, but at this point, an attempt on her life would be better than having to listen as the woman continued to rage incoherently. For someone who worked so hard to manipulate other and present a pristine face to the world, she was certainly easy to provoke. Then again, Kat knew enough about Yuki to know which buttons to push. Slipping her hand into her sleeve, she opened and drank down another ether vial. She really didn’t bring enough of the things with her for this, but her supply would have to do.