#✦ AETHER ; the sky that guides. (ic.)

[yoakenouta]

@arlquin replied:

Sinthe.

ㅤㅤWELL, that was a landmine he accidentally stepped on. " Ahh well ... no but also, I was more so thinking if there was a way to distill the effects of it ... or something like that, haha ! "

[axratsffxivwrite]

FFXIV Write Day 3 - Tempest (Fear and Fury)

The red sky burned above the Magna Glacies. Viola stood amidst the carnage, wind whipping at her stark-white hair, her loaned Bozjan armor stained with soot. Her glittering ruby carbuncle darted between scores of blasphemies, unleashing bursts of fire everywhere it went. Her fingers trailed over pages of her grimoire, calling upon enchanted glyphs and arcane geometries. 

Contingent soldiers met the abominations with blades, bows, and spells. For every blasphemy they killed, three men perished. Viola held back amongst the archers, flinging spell after spell into the fray. A twisted, winged creature swooped at her. She ducked as her carbuncle raised a barrier around her. Claws struck the arcane scales. An arrow flew past her shield and struck the monster through the back. It screeched, twisting in the air to seek out a new threat.

Viola raised her grimoire again. Her carbuncle led the charge with flame and fury. 

The screams of the dying echoed in her long Vieran ears. Panicked cries rang across the field. Those who lost heart succumbed to the transformation. The world was ending. Fitting, she thought, that the Garleans might go first. She had someone to find before they did. Someone too dear to lose. 

The winged blasphemy made another pass at her, shattering her barrier and colliding full-force with her. The force of the blow sent her sprawling, her grimoire flying from hand as her body skid across snow and ice. She rolled into a crouch, raising her head to acquire her target once more. 

Her grimoire lost to her, she called upon the old ways. She drew her rapier and turned it over in her hands, using its pommel as a focus. She was no red mage, no Eorzean thaumaturge, but she was a child of the wood. The aether of this realm would answer her call as surely as any other. 

She whipped the winds into a shining tempest, buffeting the winged beast from above. It screeched, plummeting to the snow as the winds drove it down. A hail of arrows followed suit, each driving deep into the blasphemy’s twisted flesh. It shrieked as one last bolt flew true and struck between its eyes. 

It burst into a blackened mist, replete of any aether or life. Nothing to bury. Nothing to return to the star. 

She approached the pit in the snow where the beast had died. Dread rose in her chest. No belongings left behind, nothing with which to identify the dead. 

He would not succumb to such despair. She told herself. A man such as he would sooner die. 

Yet still her heart ached. Her fingers wrapped around the red cloth tied to her belt. Fear clutched at the edges of her soul, threatening to drive its way into her heart. She could feel the pull, the panic. One deep breath. Two. He’s alive. She told herself, firmly. He’s alive.

She forced herself to believe it, as she had so many times before. The sinking sensation in her gut began to fade. 

She would not become a monster. She would find him. 

Yet her search could not continue until the battle was over. Resigned to fight on, she retrieved her grimoire from the snow. 

It felt as if there would be no end to the horde of shrieking beasts. Many rasped out their despair into the wind, until she could no longer differentiate the calls of allies from the cries of monsters. Others hissed and snarled like common beasts, their claws lashing at every target they could find. Each felt as a void in the world. Keen as her senses were, she could not feel an onze of life behind those empty eyes. It sent a chill deep into her core. 

Despite it all, she fought on. Even as her muscles ached, her aether depleted, she fought on. 

He needed her, after all. That damn fool of a man needed her.

Once upon a time, it had been the other way around. She had been so lost and confused, yet he had extended out a hand and guided her. He had given her a home and a purpose when her own people cast her aside. Through every loss, through every victory, he had always been there. 

Until now. 

Now she fought without him, without their clan. She fought alongside strangers and enemies – the Garleans would always be enemies to her, no matter the Contingent’s purpose – in a desperate bid to survive the Final Days. Only once the Garleans joined the fight did the tide finally seem to turn in their favor, yet every instinct she had screamed danger at the sight of them on the field. 

It took all her self-control not to turn on them instead of the blasphemies. As she cast spell after spell, as her carbuncle darted amongst the blasphemies, she wondered if they felt the same about her. 

Resolved nonetheless, Viola fought until her legs gave out beneath her, until exhaustion took what despair could not. She fell to a knee before a blasphemy’s fading form, her aether utterly spent. She raised her head as the reinforcements pressed on ahead, unable to summon the strength to follow. With the last vestiges of her energy, she dragged herself to her feet and began her slow retreat. 

High above, the sky still burned. 

[enolareven]

[FFXIV RP/OC Short Story]

Nergui Qestir - A Mystery Unveiled

(part 3)

----------------------------------

"...fire rocks...ice rocks...that's it."

Nergui closed the notebook on his desk after a few strokes of a quill pen, and set the inventory/order list beneath the counter to be opened another night before the next opening.

The final morning of Heavensturn week had been a cheerful and interesting one. He closed his eyes to reflect and smiled, honestly hoping in his heart that he had provided valueable guidance to several Eorzean adventurers over the past few days.

He then opened his eyes and turned them to the lilac wood shelf beside the large tome of void magics, where he had set aside his own crystal guides: the obsidian and turquoise. He slid them into a secure pocket of his woolen coat along with his yol whistle, and grabbed a small satchel of essentials on the way out the door. It was time to heed the stones' advice and make a visit to someone who could help him.

For Nergui, the quickest way to the Steppes would of course be through aetheryte travel. He thought for a moment how privileged he must be to tolerate frequent travel in addition to being attuned all over Hydaelyn, and focused on the large blue crystal he wished to bring himself to. In a swirl of dark blue, he dissolved and sent his aether to the other side of the world in mere seconds.

Once his aether had properly materialized again, he smiled and looked up. The Steppe sky was a majestic expanse over a wide field, surrounded by mountains that seemed to isolate it from the rest of the world, making it feel like its own private one. He turned his attention down to the earth's level, and watched a few merchants walking by. One of them gave him a familiar wave, which he returned.

This was Reunion, the home of his tribe and open market overseen by them to promote peace, prosperity and cooperation between tribes as well as outside peoples.

Behind him was the iloh of the Qestir khan, where his grandmother often stayed as an advisor, healer and respected shaman. It was she who taught him his first magic spell, and she who he had come to visit.

Nergui took a deep breath and clutched the stones in his pocket, taking them out to hold over his heart.

"What is it you wish me to know?"

He marched forward intently and entered the iloh, pushing its scaffold aside and immediately bowing with respect as he came under its roof.

At the far side sat the leader of the Qestir, their khan Iturgen. He and the bodyguard beside him both nodded a welcome to Nergui as a white-haired elderly woman slowly walked toward him. She looked up at her grandson with joy in her eyes, as always. Nergui smiled warmly down at his grandmother, who stood at only half his height, if that. He stepped down onto one knee to give her a hug and then sat back on both to rest just below her eye level.

It was the way of the Qestir never to speak. This was a rule Nergui respected as part of the tribe whenever he was home, and sometimes in the presence of one outside the Steppe. Though he himself had not much problem with words, it was a way of honoring his culture and heritage. He was still and always would be a Qestir.

His grandmother watched attentively, knowing he had not come to visit again for any frivolous reason. Nergui slowly took the smooth obsidian and turquoise stones from his pockets and held them out in both hands to show them to her.

She looked down at them curiously, and then back at Nergui's red-violet eyes that seemed to thirst for answers. She needed no more than a minute to understand that these crystals were messages recieved in meditation recently.

She took both stones into her small, deep blue hands with care, and gazed into them for a moment before placing them back in her grandson's. Nergui watched with intrigue as she turned and walked away, leaving the khan's iloh and motioning for him to follow.

[mister-leonn]

If there is one Pokémon in this entire family that always makes all the heads turn and mesmerize everyone it indeed is Ninetales, a Careful and very cute Vulpix from Alola, the fifth Pokémon I caught there. I met her on a leisure afternoon visiting Tapu Village, she was a lost little fellow who probably wandered down Mount Lanakila and couldn't get back, she was very frightened and hungry, and if there's something I definitely learned through my traveling, no Pokémon, angry or frightened, can resist a good meal... at least generally. After becoming acquaintance with her stomach, she started playing with the other Pokémons of the team, no matter the size or the look she was nice to everyone and included all of them in the games. Eventually when it got dark I brought her to the Aether House, for examination and looking for solutions to get her back to her family. We stayed there for the night and when the moon was fully arose in the sky I was woken by some noises, from another room little Vulpix was howling at the mountain, being faintly answered by a distant howl certainly coming from a Ninetales. Forgetting the danger of climbing the mountain at night I got dressed with coats and brought Vulpix back, it took me the entire night to reach a cliff she was leading me to, I found there a family of Ninetales and Vulpixes, the little ones got quickly scared and the parents showed themselves very menacing, I thought I was done for but my little friend protected me and I guess explained I meant no harm as they eased down but still refused to approach. However, I got blessed to watch them, until sunrise, being a happy family, grooming and playing together with ice crystals floating around them creating twinkling lights, a scene I will never forget. When the sun was finally up and me definitely freezing, one of the parents guided me down, as all Alolan Ninetales do, accompanied by my Vulpix friend. When we finally were able to see the Pokémon Center the Ninetales stopped and letted me get down by myself, I said goodbye to Vulpix but I was a bit sad to leave her, and I guess she felt the same as she looked at her parent with a worried expression, and as it agreed to her puppy eyes she ran down to me and jumped in my arms. I was really confused and insisted on her getting back with her family but she had the final word. We waved her parent goodbye who answered with a loud howl followed by Vulpix's. When we got back to the Aether House where I was finally able to warm myself, I drew out a Pokéball and letted her tap the button, and I got a new Ice friend. Later, on a Battle Royal organized inside all of Po Town, I won an Ice Stone as third place prize and gave it to Vulpix, she evolved in a bright icy light into the beautiful Ninetales she is now. With a combination of Snowcloak and Hail she completely disappears on the battlefield to swiftly strike with Dazzling Gleam and Ice Beam and protect herself with Aurora Veil.

[blackestnight]

13: made manifest

Prompt: Oneirophrenia

Word count: 1230

Her grasp on her soul has always been tenuous, even at the best of times, so it’s no surprise that it starts to slip when she’s dying. Or: if there’s any idiot who would still wall-pull while undergoing light corruption-induced organ failure, it’s probably Hanami.

(Gonna slap a tentative content warning on this one for Shadowbringers-typical levels of body horror re: sin eaters and light corruption.)

Idly, Hanami scraped her fingertips across the rough stone of the ground. Hard to tell if the white lines spiderwebbing across her gauntlets were frost or something worse, in the flickering lights from the falling stars. Or if they were real. Maybe just her imagination. Maybe the stars were all in her head, too. It didn’t seem right, for the sky to be collapsing underneath the ocean.

A voice, muffled. She had to strain to hear it over the sound of crackling glass in her horns. “Up you get, lazybones.” Genial, a strong hand under each of her arms, tugging her back to her knees. “No dozing off here. Ryne, a moment, please.”

Was she sleeping? She didn’t think so. Hadn’t slept in—a while. Days, maybe. If she stopped thinking about breathing she started to choke on glowing ichor. Sometimes she could only close her eyes and think about keeping her skin from splitting apart. Hard. Her thoughts slid out of her grip like wet marble.

Focus. Keep steady. Breathe deep through your nose—let the air fill your lungs and pass from your lips...

More hands, a smaller voice. Too quiet to make out over the shattering. Her airway cleared a bit. She found her feet long enough to get them under her.

“There you are,” the first voice said approvingly. “Come along, then. Stay near me—just like we agreed, yes?” The hands released her, and a white shadow danced in her vision, moving off into the hoary fog that licked at the corners of her eyes.

She licked her lips. Hunted for the shadow’s name. It took her two tries to speak because her tongue froze to the roof of her mouth. “Thancred?”

“Yes?”

“I cannot see the ground,” she admitted. Magnesium sparks drifted across her sightline when she looked around. More little falling stars.

The hand returned, cupping her chin and tilting it up. The stars drifted accordingly, and the little branches of ice in her periphery did not. “Well, that looks unpleasant,” he said. She made a questioning noise, too occupied with the constellations floating behind her eyelids to bother with words. “Not to worry. We’ll simply have to go a little slower. Take my—there. Hold on tight, and we’ll be on our way.”

Her fingers were numb, where they wrapped around his wrist, but that was fine. He pressed his arm to his own back and she followed on his heels. Not practical, she thought, because he used two hands for his sword. So did she. Urianger would be a better guide, or Alphinaud. She almost asked him where they were and remembered. They had to stay back, away from her and her creeping cold, in case it cracked her open. Thancred would stay with her instead. Just like they’d agreed.

He sounded so calm, guarding a dying woman who would scour the world like a heat death, but she supposed he was good at lying.

One foot in front of the other, over and over again. To the ends of the world.

When he stopped, her toes collided with the heels of his boots. She recalled how her hand worked and freed her grip on his arm. Didn’t need to wonder why. The black holes in her vision were like warm balm on her strained eyes. Her mouth watered. Her body ceased its shutdown to remind her what hunger was.

Her sword was in her hands without thinking, and she fell on the shadow beasts like a starved animal. Famished. They were made of fire and darkness and when she ripped their aether from them they warmed her from the inside, better than any hot drink, better than a hearth, they were alive and she was slavering for it, driving her blade deep and bathing it in black blood that slipped over her hands, ignited and burned in flashes of light that limned her. Levin crackled over her head and magic flashed past her horns, and somewhere at her distant back she could make out the sound of explosive ammunition, but it didn’t matter. She was hunting. She was feasting. She drank deep, and her body crowed in delight. Something nestled over her ribs sparked.

—a sudden whip-crack of pain at her back and she sprawled, her chest meeting the ground before her hands could think to catch her, and her lungs were empty, her fingers scrabbling and useless. Something in her hearing smashed to pieces again and the ammunition noises cut off but maybe that was because she couldn’t even hear her pulse anymore, only her gasping breaths and the sound of her soul coming apart at the seams.

Listen to my voice, you fool! Listen to our heartbeat!

Her arms wouldn’t hold her, and her shadow churned beneath her, a perfect outline of black in the brittle whiteout—

And if you can’t do it yourself—

—somewhere at the end of the world, a scream, so loud she heard it even over her own shattering—

—I’ll have to take the reins.

Her shadow reached for her, dripping antilight from its arms like hot tar, and placed its tender hands over her shoulders.

Then it seized her, rolled her, caging her under its silhouette so a grasping tentacle could crash to the ground where her body had been.

One of these days, it murmured, not even a voice in her useless horns but a presence inside her ruined mind, you are going to have to start cleaning up your own messes.

And then it was gone, no movement to mark its passing—laying atop her, and then behind her, one hand dragging her upright by her hair, heedless of her gasp of pain. Throwing her back into the bedlam. It remained only in flashes: a grasping hand, a jet of darkness, a ruthless overhand strike, a chest pressed to her spine when she stumbled. A ghost hovering just out of sight, with pitch hands steadying her grip, covering her back, and with every point of contact, every reassuring touch, warmth seeped back into her like ink in white water.

She didn’t realize the last beast was gone until the shadow vanished, too, collapsing to its silent knees and resting its forehead against her hip. Be well, it begged her, and melted. It was there, a solid outline in bold black, and then it oozed back around her feet like water forcing its way out of a cracked pitcher.

Probably like her soul looked, she thought, hazy. Or whatever was left of it by now. Her arm trembled with exertion when she resettled her sword on her back.

A solid hand on her shoulder—not as hot, probably more real. Thancred’s voice. “Good you’re still in one piece. I oughtn’t have let that Idolizer get between us, but you...seemed to handle yourself, as it were.”

There was something there, something in his tone, like a question he wasn’t sure how to ask, but if he was making a face at her she couldn’t see it. She only shrugged, and he guided her hand back to his gauntlet and led her in careful steps further down the road to ruin.

Her sight was useless, so she closed her eyes while she waited for his next signal, the better to relive the blackened dream behind her. Good to know her shadow wouldn’t abandon her to the light just yet.

[inviouswriting]

Darkwarden au - Redemption

Finally touching on this one again.

I think it deserves an alternative ending that’s nice. What do you think?

Revived au - For a few more installments.

Featuring @snow-covered-moon​ ‘s Shuri/Anubis along with all of her lovely children.

I will have another installment as I can write them. I have a nice way to end this one.

Kivera had lingered behind instead of leaving on her normal hunt, for other sin eaters and those with higher aether count to keep Anubis safe from those that wish her harm. Kivera paused in her thoughts for the name Anubis, in her world she knew the name of the Egyptian god of death. It was almost fitting, she is serving another god in that sense. 

The reaper’s thoughts drift to her past, how many has she served. From those in charge of her, from Bathory, Gabriel, Hades, Thanatos, Chiron. Her life of servitude never ended. Always the dutiful angel she is. Even if she wasn’t of the heavens, her path was laid before her in that sense. 

Her thoughts are drawn out when a pinged cry hits her head. She knew what it was, and turns on her heels, forgoing finding anything for a meal, instead she approaches in time before Thancred could fire his weapon.

Anubis in a vulnerable state from her hunger. She would never be able to fight back against him. She could but she didn’t “want” to fight. Thancred driven on his own conviction to put her out of her misery. To end someone who was doing no harm to those around her except exist. Power surged in the gunblade and just as it was about to fire, Kivera knocks it to the side with throwing her scythe. The blade fires missing its target, shooting pass her head and into the wall of the well itself.

“What the!” Thancred looks to the weapon that flew pass his head to knock his own. Kivera takes his distraction as opportunity and kicks her toe to the ground to send a ripple through it underneath Thancred’s feet to knock him further off balance.

Kivera flits and stands between Anubis and Thancred. She checks over Anubis quickly, only seeing mild fear in her, and acceptance of what would have been her death. Something she would talk to her later about. Kivera turns her attention onto Thancred who regains himself by now.

“You can’t leave her like this! That is not Shuri, and you know it.” Kivera ignores his words, her eyes going to where Antares landed. 

“Is there anything else you can say?” Kivera turns her back to him in favor of looking over Anubis. Thancred wouldn’t attack the fallen carelessly, he has seen her in action and knows it is suicide to fight her.

“Shuri. I think it is time to leave this place. It’s no longer safe.” Kivera completely disregards Thancred being there. She extends a hand down to where Anubis sits, and a hesitant hand takes hers. Kivera helps her to her feet, being gentle when regarding the darkwarden.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Kivera murmurs the words Shuri had been wanting to hear for a long time. Home.

“Where do you intend to take her...” Thancred is met with an ruby eyed stare from Kivera. 

“Away from you, where you can’t go.” Her answer is cold, and she would never grant him the permission of going to her world, her domain, her sanctuary. Not when he intends to murder one she loves in cold blood. 

Thancred starts towards them, only for the ground to disappear underneath his feet. 

“Quagmire.”

Like water, the ground felt like water around him. Just as he wanted to climb out, he felt the surrounding get colder as it froze, his attention goes to the foot that was embedded in the ground. He forgot she is a master of elements. Earth is an element. Estinien himself has said the spars he had with the fallen that he could never get pass her tricks when she used earth and water together. 

“Why are you trying so hard to protect her?” Thancred feels the ground around him start to give from his moving around slowly. The ice chilled his core, seeping in faster than Coerthas’ winterlands ever chilled him.

“Why are you so intent on killing her?” Kivera guides Anubis to a gate she had prepared, a wall of ice that was reflective enough as a mirror. A conduit for Kivera, any reflective surface was her door to her world.

“I know her, that she would not want to live like that.”

“So why must it be you then?” Kivera pulls a white feather out of her left wing and uses it as a quill to write something on the surface of the ice. Scrying a door into its surface.

“Because of you, you dispatched anyone I sent after her.” Kivera knocks on the mirror and opens the gate for Anubis, on the other side a familiar hand reaches through from Divinity. 

Anubis had been quiet throughout the exchange, almost tranced from her near death. She recognizes the warmth from Kivera, standing closer to her white wing, the former angel curling it around her to shield her.

“It’s Divinity. She’ll take care of you while I clean up things in this world.” Kivera runs a hand through Anubis’ dark hair cupping her face to rub her face with her own. A show of affection she remembers from her youth as a Xaela. To try and jar her out of what she was feeling. 

Anubis reluctantly takes the hand, and is lead through the mirror to Divinity. As soon as Anubis was through the gate, it shatters as a preventive to keep Thancred from rushing the door.

Kivera now that Shuri was safe, turns her attention onto Thancred fully.

“I will give you one chance to go home. I will not attack you, you can forget all the happened here. You can run back to the townsfolk and tell them that the threat has been eliminated for all I care. She will not harm here or The Source. Leave with Kiya, and go about the threats in the other world.” Kivera walks over to the center of the area where Storge once was. Kivera looked small compared to the expansive nest that use to be the sineaters and darkwardens domain.

“And what happens if I don’t want to leave here?” At these words, Kivera whistles; to Thancred’s left Antares springs from the ground summoned back to Kivera’s hands. She catches her scythe to spin once on her feet holding the blade outward to her side in a way to strike.

“I will end you. And you know how good I am at that.” Kivera looked more sure of herself now that Anubis was safe from certain death. Thancred takes Kivera in, really looking at her. She wore different clothing than what he remembered not the odd attires she wore around them. From the black mage persona or dancer. This was her natural state, even the miqo’te side of her wasn’t there. 

“Are you not taking my offer then? You truly want to see this through to your end?” Kivera reminds him that he has an out. They don’t have to fight, Kivera is as certain of death to him as he would have been to Anubis. 

“What do I tell them... that you ran off with a threat?” Thancred sees her visibly upset at his words. Her eyes narrow, Kivera sighs.

“Someone like you would never understand unless you have been relentlessly persecuted. I take you are dismissing my offer.. don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Kivera taps her feet to the ground to stretch them. Kivera rests her head on one of her hands regarding him.

“Someone has to.” Kivera sighs, as much as she would love to fight with him, there was no point for her to do so. Shuri was safe from him and everyone that could cause her harm wouldn’t not with her secure in her very home.

“I don’t have time for you. Consider yourself lucky... I am being merciful today. I have no interest in fighting you. Go back home before your spirit severs from your body.” Thancred is shocked that she would engage him after trying to actively kill Anubis.

“Why?” Thancred takes a step towards her only to fall through a hole she created, it felt like he was slipping through another dimension itself. Unceremoniously he lands in a heap outside the well. Kivera stands on an abandoned crane away from him. 

Thancred looks up at her, he sees her with her scythe again, and using an ability to reduce the size down to an earring and pins it in her ear. She had no intentions of fighting him. She had already been gone too long from Shuri, and knew Divinity needs explaining as to what was going on from the reaper.

“It’s not your time yet. Your world needs you. I will take care of her from here on. If you somehow find a way into the other realm. May I be merciful on your soul.” Kivera ends her warning with leaving him on the red sand flitting away as if she was never there. The dread sensation Thancred had lifts, he wouldn’t say he cheated death, but simply death didn’t want him.

The darkness still lingered in the air, from the remnants of Anubis’ influence. Thancred wondered if there were others that he overlooked. Perhaps Shuri was not the only corrupted spirit in this world. 

“Kivera... is alot more kind than we give her credit for.” Thancred looks over his shoulder, Ryne. 

“Ryne?” He gets up and sees her fiddle with her hands.

“She’s not evil. She’s just protecting those dear to her. Let’s... let her do her part.” Thancred knew her right, and he’d thank his lucky stars he didn’t die today. The look in Kivera’s eyes meant it if he had harmed Shuri.

“I know... but why did she work so hard when she knew it is hopeless.” Thancred sees Ryne bring a hand to her own face in thought.

“For the same reason I don’t give up on Gaia. Everyone is worth redemption.” Thancred understood after that, that Kivera knows of a way to help Shuri somehow.

“I have been foolish haven’t I?”

“Yes.”

Kivera had secured all of her lingering doors to her world. Shattering certain mirrors that were direct doors. When she arrived back into her domain, she is greeted to the sight of the eternal night sky it already is. Only she can barely see the two moons overhead. Yet here she didn’t worry over Shuri’s well being like she was forced to do in the other two worlds.

She barely recognizes how long it had been till she had been home, as she walked through to the middle, she felt the pings between Shuri and her children. Kivera smiled to herself, there was no fear among them. She had a feeling they wouldn’t fear her, they missed her.

Divinity regards her leader when she comes into view. Getting up to greet her.

“Welcome back. I thought you weren’t going to bring her here until you found a way to break her out of this.” Kivera pulls Divinity more towards the house in the middle. 

“I was put in a position where I had to bring her here. Thancred was after her again, and he meant to kill her this time. Caught her at her most vulnerable, and when I was just leaving.” Kivera explains, Divinity understands it. It was a better move for Shuri, Kivera’s own home was brimming with life energy. Just breathing was enough to fill and satisfy the darkwarden’s needs.

Ysayle was confused to why her mother looked different, but did not fear her. In fact was content in her arms while her siblings clung to her after being away for so long. Divinity regards Kivera, a look between them both. The Libra spirit sees her relaxed with all of them out of danger.

“How do you intend we help her though?” Divinity asks the question that Kivera is unsure how to answer.

“Keeping her safe for starters.. The young ones are unaffected it seems, that is a good thing. She is still in there, bringing her to them was a good idea. She’s mostly composed of dark aether, the way we can counter that is of course with light.” Divinity closes her eyes, she wondered if her ability would be enough.

“I can try with mine.” Kivera’s eyes flicker blue brief then back to green. Divinity had a feeling about the abilities.

“It can’t be done carelessly, otherwise we could accidentally kill her, or alter enough to where she loses her humanity.” Divinity sighs, she knew. Kivera was best when it came to elemental differences, her entire life in training was spent learning and honing each element. Even her own weakness in holy. Enough to not be affected unless she prolonged using it. 

“We’ll just let her be for now, till we figure something out then.. Does Estinien know you brought her here yet? He might want to see her. As she is now or not.” Kivera didn’t have time to send the dragoon a message.

“I’ll go see him, and bring him here then.” Kivera muses aloud, her fingers finding the end of her left wing to pull a few white feathers off. New wards for her charges.

Kivera approaches the group of children and Anubis. Anubis greets Kivera, her dark figure sees the feathers in her hand. Enough for all of the children, a single black one for Anubis.

“What are those for?”

“Protection. Just like the first feathers I gave you. They’ll let me know if something is wrong.” Kivera kneels down and meets Anubis pressing forehead with hers. She felt tears, Shuri surfaced.

“Thank you.. for not killing him.” Kivera’s eyes widen and she tilts her head enough only to feel a full kiss pressed to her cheek. 

“You’re welcome..” The fallen feels a hand press on her white feathers. She doesn’t shrug Shuri’s hand off even if it felt like they were burning under her hand. Kivera gently takes her hand to lace their fingers together, prevent her from burning them further on the only holy thing about herself. 

Shuri looks at her for removing her hand.

“You’ll burn yourself...” 

“Does it hurt you too?” Kivera lifts her eyes, purple are her eyes. Hiding her pain behind her love.

“A little, but please, it means there is a way to counter. Give me more time. I kept my promise that you would be back with your family after all.” Kivera winds her arms around Shuri, pressing a palm to the middle of her back and rubs along her spine. 

“I’m sorry.. I know you kept your promise. Thank you.. I missed them. I missed everyone.. When can I see Estinien?” There is a sense of need in her voice, and Kivera feels it. Green eyes close.

“I’ll bring him here soon. I have to locate him, but I had to check on you and home here.” Kivera cups Shuri’s face using very trace amount of light in her palms. Using her thumbs she rubs Shuri’s face to test something, seeing pink almost white flesh underneath her palms. 

“Does this hurt?” Shuri thinks of the warmth on her face, a tingling where the reaper’s hands touch.

“Itches more than hurts.” Kivera stops the magic after clearing her face of the dark almost pitch black tones.

“I might have a lead then. I’ll return with Estinien soon. Be patient for us?” Kivera asks, and Shuri nods. A small kiss placed on her face, she returns it as Kivera stands up after placing a feather on each child and Shuri.

“I trust you.” Shuri says.

Kivera feels her soul alight.

“I love you too.”

[idanwyn-et-al]

(XIV||20) 17. Fade. (Make-up post!)

It was finally done. The mirror had been built, and the summer solstice was dawning on the horizon. Anne-Sophie checked her enormous pack of supplies: parchment and a few key books; various arcane inks and quill;  a moon’s worth of rations, a water filter device from Sharlayan and a bulging skin of freshwater; a few cakes of soap; first aid supplies; carefully-packed armor padded by tightly-folded clothing; her bedroll secured to the top; a few other sundries that she thought were necessary when travelling to the unknown. Strangely, she felt not a drop of fear, only crystal-clear purpose and drive. She had been preparing all her life for this, and now, as the sun’s first rays touched the gems embedded into the mirror’s frame, she saw the distant world flicker across the magicked glass, a carpet of pink flowers and illuminated water flora. It was precisely as her prized account had described; a work by a contemporary scholar from Hingashi, of all places, laboriously translated by a diplomat who was paid top coin both for their skill and secrecy. 

Cinching the pack’s sturdy straps over her shoulders on the insides of her pauldrons, another set around her hips, she stood, taking a few deep breaths. The light grew brighter by the moment, and she felt at peace, watching it dance through the leaves of the trees filling the southern gardens. She had availed herself of every possible bit of arcanamia her family’s considerable resources had been able to procure, and though she had had a few failed attempts before, she had learned from them, recalibrated, and tried again. 

Dawn, the faerie of Nym, fluttered circles in the cool air nearby, chittering to herself in a language Anne-Sophie still did not understand. Her bond with the faerie was not as strong as the ancient scholars’ had been, but they made do. Once the sun was fully above the horizon, illuminating the entirety of the mirror, there was a crackling sound as of breaking ice, and a low hum filled the room, causing her stomach to churn for a few moments until she had adjusted. “It is time, Dawn,” she said quietly. “Reach out to the one called Nee Ys; the guide from my dreams who is anchoring the portal.” Dawn did as instructed, her corporeal form turning translucent as she melded with the silvery glass, little ripples appearing across its surface. Gripping the aetherically-infused gems embedded in the inner guard of her rapier, she willed its aether to supplement her own. Other gemstones strung across her tunic, her armor, encircling her head beneath her beret, began to glow in turn, each one switched on like a light as her will moved through them. She began to sweat, forcing herself to focus, to channel the aether towards her purpose; if she failed here, the powers would turn back in on themselves and destroy her, leaving her a burned-out mindless husk, insensate and drooling. 

Anne-Sophie could hear every rustle of the birds in the eaves; smell the cookfires in the kitchen being lit for breakfast, the sulfuric hint of a matchstroke; the sun filled her eyes, blinding in its brilliance. She focused on the mirror, then spoke, her voice quiet and controlled. “From Winter’s halls to perpetual Spring, I come. From this land war-torn to one of peace and beauty, I come. Guided by the one called Nee Ys, I come. To find the knight of Faeries’ bone, I come. By the power of earth, air, levin, ice, water, and fire, now at its peak; I command myself to be drawn from hither to yon. The Kingdom of Rainbows is my destination; I will find myself there. For all is connected through dreams and the memories of the ancients; my blood, my body, my spirit, my belongings, we come!” At the last word she stepped forward, felt the electric rush of the magicked glass part around her, envelop her. It was all she could do to maintain focus and consciousness as everything she ever knew faded out behind her. She soared through a place the mystics called the Rift; it was as if she had stepped into the night sky itself and was soaring past stars, seeing faces and memories reflected in their brilliance. She did not stop to look closer; she knew she must stay focused on the destination, and the destination only.

Just as she felt as if she would tumble into unconsciousness, one glimmering facet loomed before her, growing larger and larger until...SPLASH! The shock of the cold water brought her to full awareness, and she marvelled at the beauty above her.

An endless, cloud-filled sky, like a perpetual dream. Crystals adorning mountain peaks, each haloed by a rainbow. Around her, the glowing plantlife she’d seen did not stick to her body nor smell of pond scum, as she’d assumed; it was clean, clear, utterly surreal. A breath in; a breath out. Pain. Horrifying pain that climbed into her skull, threatening to knock her out once more. She fought it; she felt Dawn offering what little healing the faerie had left before she dissipated into the aether. Overtaxed; she would return, Anne-Sophie knew, once she had recovered in whatever way she did such a thing.

It took a few more moments for the knight-scholar to realize her pack was the only reason she and her armor were above water; its sheer bulk had dug into the soft ground of the lake, anchoring her like a turtle flipped on its back. She tried to laugh at the image, then found her voice was completely gone. The pain loomed, waiting to claim her. Slowly, laboriously, she righted herself, crawling in the six ilms or so of water until she made it to dry land. Then, all she could do was lay there on her stomach, unfastening her pack so she was not crushed by its weight, letting its waterproofed fabric shelter it as it slid to her right side. She was easy prey, now; “Fury take me, what if I made it all this way, and then I am just eaten by some strange beast? It’s not like I could fight it,” she thought to herself. Head throbbing, surrounded by the remnants of shattered, smoking crystals, she lay there for bells on end. Eventually, the one called Nee Ys tutted their way around her head. “Now, now, that won’t do! You can’t come from dreams and return there right away! A bit of the King’s magic, and...” Anne-Sophie felt a burst of artificial energy, as if spring itself was blooming within her limbs; dangerous, this feeling, addictive and strange. Still, she was upright, and able to pick up her pack. Still finding herself unable to speak, she gestured for food, water, a place to rest. 

Nee Ys laughed merrily. “You sure you don’t want to come to Lydha Lran? Wait, no, no...you’re *my* mortal, I heard you calling for us in your dreams, and I’m not ready to share you just yet. Hmm..” they fluttered in the air in front of her face, smelling of lilacs and overgrown gravestones; a curious mixture, to be certain, but one to be analyzed at a later date. “You can stay where the big one with the fancy dress was staying. Hopefully you like tea!”

To the Bookman’s Shelves, then, though of course she did not know its name just yet. Really, she was just grateful to be alive; all else could wait, even celebrating her success.

[escapetoeorzea]

Prompt 5: Matter of Fact

Settle down, kittens. It’s time to talk about Celestial Song. Yes, I know some of you older kids have heard this every year, but you’ll indulge me while I tell it again and then you can get to the feasting. Some of the older huntresses will tell you this is just a folk story, but I assure you, every word is a matter of fact. 

Now, when the star was new, there was nothing here but rock and ice and aether. And the Twelve, in their endless wisdom, they saw fit to bring life onto this star, to let it flourish and grow and become something beautiful. But even in all their great power, they couldn’t create life from aether on their own. They combined all of their power together into one place and grew from that the World Tree. 

Now back in those days, the World Tree was so big it stretched all the way into the heavens. But down at its roots, it began to grow new life. First, before anything, it grew all the plants and forests of the star, covering our planet in brilliant, vibrant colors of the rainbow and oh so much green. And as the tree grew these plants, it pulled in all the aether from the space between stars and shook in the astral winds and the leaves against each other made the most beautiful sound that has ever been made, even since. 

But the plants of the star couldn’t spread their seeds well enough and couldn’t grow as fast and as strong as they wanted, and there were too many plants so new ones couldn’t grow. So the trees implored the great World Tree to give them creatures that could roam the land, who could help nourish their roots, who could prune their old and their sick. And so the World Tree grew all the beasts of the land and sea and air. And as the tree grew these creatures, it pulled in all the aether from the space between stars and shook in the astral winds and the leaves against each other made the most beautiful sound that has ever been made, even since.

Soon these creatures too grew too out of control. Too many and they started to tip the balance of nature. And still worse, the beasts would die and some of them would nourish new plants, but most just went to waste on the forest floor. And so they begged the World Tree, give us something to control our populations, to give our deaths some purpose so we are not just left to rot. And so the World Tree grew like fruits the races of man and the others who could learn to hunt with tools. And as the tree grew these people, it pulled in all the aether from the space between stars and shook in the astral winds and the leaves against each other made the most beautiful sound that has ever been made, even since.

And these people called that sound the first song. The Celestial Song. 

Now I hear you asking what happened to the World Tree. Where is it, after all? Why do we not live beneath its boughs? Why do we not implore it to solve our ills? The threats to this star? 

Well that, my children, is a story for another day. Because right now, we celebrate this balance we have struck with plant and with creature. It is on this day that our leaders - you know, the Five Daughters, those who lead our clan - this day they are at the peak of their power. The great aether of creation - the Celestial Song itself - courses through them only once a year. 

Look up there, up into the sky. Yes, all of you, I told you you will humor an old woman this ritual once a year and then you can stuff your disrespectful little mouths. Those stars right there, see them in two straight lines? That is Bole, the trunk of the great World Tree. It is our guiding constellation, the light on our clan. But once a year, in fact in just a bell or so from now, the moon will climb just so in the sky and it will fit right there at the top of the trunk. Once more we will see our beloved World Tree and if you listen so very closely, as hard as your heart will let you, you’ll hear it. The Celestial Song. 

Don’t you look at me like that. I have heard it, as have many others, and the Five Daughters hear it loud and clear. And that’s a matter of fact.

[fireturtlepagan]

The gods and their (mostly) coffee/ chocolate-y beverage/ tea orders

Also what they are god off cause ~learning~

<tried to give each a unique order but there likely will be repeats> <<also these are based on nothing in particular>>

Achelois doesn’t like hot beverages or chocolate would like ice water with lemon though

A minor moon goddess whose name means “she who washes away pain”.

Alectrona any coffee is good coffee

An early Greek goddess of the sun, daughter of Helios and Rhode, and possibly goddess of the morning.

Amphitrite s’mores Frappuccino

Greek goddess of the sea, wife of Poseidon and a Nereid.

Antheia tea, just the tea, nothing in it

Goddess of gardens, flowers, swamps, and marshes.

Apate Extra chocolate milkshake

Goddess of gardens, flowers, swamps, and marshes.

Aphrodite a tall beverage. Doesn’t care what’s in it just likes the small cups. Drinks like 5 at a time.

Goddess of love and beauty and married to Hephaestus.

Artemis mocha

Virginal goddess of the hunt and twin sister of Apollo.

Até “this is bean juice” (black coffee)

Greek goddess of mischief, delusion, ruin, and folly.

Athena don’t care give me the caffeine (loves iced coffee most)

Goddess of wisdom, poetry, art, and war strategy. Daughter of Zeus and born from his forehead fully grown, wearing battle armour.

Bia doesn’t like coffee likes frozen hot chocolate or just chocolate milk is just milk an option cause if it is just milk

The goddess of force and raw energy, daughter of Pallas and Styx, and sister of Nike, Kratos, and Zelus.

Brizo Irish coffee

Ancient Greek prophet goddess who was known as the protector of mariners, sailors, and fishermen.

Circe “coffee as dark as my hatred for men”

A goddess of magic who transformed her enemies, or those that insulted her, into beasts.

Cybele southern sweet tea

The Greek goddess of caverns, mountains, nature and wild animals.

Demeter doesn’t like coffee much but will drink it on occasion prefers iced tea

Goddess of agriculture, fertility, sacred law and the harvest.

Eileithyia Caramel Frappuccino

Goddess of childbirth, referred to by Homer as “the goddess of the pains of birth”.

Elpis peppermint mocha

The spirit and personification of hope. Hope was usually seen as an extension to suffering by the Greek, not as a god.

Enyo that chocolate that’s like a shot of espresso or whatever

Minor goddess of war and destruction, the companion and lover of the war god Ares and connected to Eris.

Eos yes to all

A Titaness and the goddess of the dawn.

Eris Red Bull

Greek goddess of chaos, strife and discord and connected to the war-goddess Enyo.

Gaia homemade hot coco, your grandmothers recipe, the one passed down by the generations full of love and memories

The primal Greek goddess of the Earth. Known as the great mother of all and often referred to as “Mother Earth”.

Harmonia espresso au lait

The Greek goddess of harmony and concord.

Hebe hot chocolate-y milk

Goddess of eternal youth.

Hecate coffee with sugar

The goddess of magic, crossroads, moon, ghosts, witchcraft and necromancy (the undead).

Hemera chai latte

Primordial goddess of the day, daytime and daylight. Daughter to Erebus and Nyx (the goddess of night).

Hera just needs caffeine please (1 creamer 2 sugars)

Goddess of goddesses, women, and marriage. Married to Zeus and known as Queen of the Gods.

Hestia hot chocolate with either cinnamon stick or a peppermint stick

goddess of the hearth, home, architecture, domesticity, family, and the state. Also one of the Hesperides.

Hygea loose leaf tea, preferably locally grown

Goddess of good health, cleanliness, and sanitation. This is where the word “hygiene” comes from.

Iris iced matcha latte

Greek goddess of the rainbow and messenger of the gods. She is also known as one of the goddesses of the sea and the sky.

Mania likes watching milk mix into the coffee but not drinking it

Spirit goddess of insanity, madness, crazed frenzy and the dead.

Nemesis stealing it from Dionysus

The goddess of retribution and personification of vengeance.

Nike just a little milk in either

Goddess of victory, known as the Winged Goddess of Victory.

Nyx milk and honey

Primordial goddess of the night.

Peitho cinnamon hot chocolate

Greek goddess of persuasion and seduction.

Persephone iced white mocha with raspberry or strawberry

Goddess of vegetation and spring and queen of the underworld. Lives off-season in the underworld as the wife of Hades.

Pheme a latte

The goddess of fame, gossip and renown. Her favour is notability, and her wrath is scandalous rumors.

Rhea steamed milk with vanilla or hazelnut

Titaness and goddess of nature. Daughter of the earth goddess Gaia and the sky god Uranus, and known as “the mother of gods”.

Selene white hot chocolate with almond milk

Goddess of the Moon

Styx pumpkin spice

Goddess of the river Styx and a Naiad who was the first to aid Zeus in the Titan war.

Terpsichore honey latte

Goddess of dance and chorus and one of the nine Muses.

Themis like 3 gallons of espresso

Ancient Greek Titaness and goddess of divine order, law, natural law and custom.

Thetis tea with looooots of honey basically just warm honey water

Sea nymph, goddess of water and one of the fifty Nereids, daughters of the ancient sea god Nereus. Also a shapeshifter and a prophet.

Tyche Starbucks pink drink

Goddess of prosperity and fortune.

Aeolus unsweetened ice tea

Greek god of the winds and air

Aether steamed milk with cinnamon

Primordial god of the upper air, light, the atmosphere, space and heaven.

Alastor one sugar in tea or coffee

God of family feuds and avenger of evil deeds.

Apollo decaf

Olympian god of music, poetry, art, oracles, archery, plague, medicine, sun, light and knowledge.

Ares mocha Frappuccino

God of war. Represented the physical, violent and untamed aspect of war.

Aristaeus tea he made himself

Minor patron god of animal husbandry, bee-keeping, and fruit trees. Son of Apollo.

Asclepius all the tea or black coffee

God of medicine, health, healing, rejuvenation and physicians.

Attis just water please

A minor god of vegetation, fruits of the earth and rebirth.

Caerus nitro cold brew

Minor god of opportunity, luck and favorable moments.

Cronos peach tea with cream

The god of time. Not to be confused with Cronus, the Titan father of Zeus.

Crios decaf with cream and sugar

The Titan god of the heavenly constellations and the measure of the year..

Cronus vanilla Frappuccino with no coffee

God of agriculture, leader and the youngest of the first generation of Titans and father of the Titans. Not to be confused with Cronos, god of time.

Deimos earl grey tea with cream

Deimos is the personification of dread and terror.

Dionysus either like a tiny bit of coffee in a milkshake or espresso directly into his veins

An Olympian god of the grape harvest, winemaking and wine, of ritual madness, religious ecstasy and theatre.

Erebus iced coffee with vanilla and milk

Primordial god of darkness.

Eros strawberry Frappuccino

God of sexual desire, attraction, love and procreation.

Hades vanilla latte with soy milk

God of the Dead and Riches and King of the Underworld.

Helios chocolate and peanut butter hot chocolate

God of the Sun and also known as Sol.

Hephaestus iced tea with lemonade

God of fire, metalworking, stone masonry, forges and the art of sculpture. Created weapons for the gods and married to Aphrodite.

Hermes matcha

God of trade, thieves, travelers, sports, athletes, and border crossings, guide to the Underworld and messenger of the gods.

Hymenaios cold brew

God of marriage ceremonies, inspiring feasts and song.

Hypnos doesn’t like the way caffeine makes him feel so he drinks decaf

The Greek god of sleep.

Kratos Oreo milkshake

God of strength and power.

Momus gingerbread latte

God of satire, mockery, censure, writers and poets and a spirit of evil-spirited blame and unfair criticism.

Morpheus peppermint mocha

God of dreams and sleep – has the ability to take any human form and appear in dreams.

Paean London fog with lavender

The physician of the Olympian gods.

Pan mint tea

God of nature, the wild, shepherds, flocks, goats, mountain wilds, and is often associated with sexuality. Also a satyr (half man, half-goat).

Plutus hot chocolate with caramel

The Greek god of wealth.

Poseidon chai

Olympian Greek god of the sea, earthquakes, storms, and horses.

Priapus black coffee or coffee with creamer

Minor rustic fertility god, protector of flocks, fruit plants, bees and gardens and known for having an enormous penis.

Thanatos butterscotch iced coffee

A minor god and the god of death.

Triton sea salt caramel Frappuccino

Messenger of the sea and the son of Poseidon and Amphitrite.

Zelus lemonade

The god of dedication, emulation, eager rivalry, envy, jealousy, and zeal.

Zues lil bitch juice

God of the sky, lightning, thunder, law, order, justice, King of the Gods and the “Father of Gods and men”.

[yoakenouta]

@ouroborius replied:

Albedo vc: Do you think it tastes like sparkling water or more like oil?

ㅤㅤ" WELL according to Paimon, it tastes salty and icky so I would assume it tastes like seawater but worse. Then again maybe this is a bad idea given the effects of the Primordial Sea ... "

[heartwoodventures]

The Crystal Man Conclusion

Part 1 Part 2

If it was at all possible, Coerthas was even colder once the sun had sunk low behind the mountains. As night darkened the land, there wasn’t much to keep the mind distracted from the frigid wind that mercilessly found its way through any opening of clothing, no matter how small. 

Ifoux had found his bed bells ago but the small band of mercenaries had a long night ahead of them as they staked out the Elezen’s makeshift graveyard, waiting for these would-be graverobbers the man had insisted were about. 

"B-bloodeh hells, I ferget how much I hate Coerthan nights...no amount o' clothes evah truleh protects ye..." Nazyl grumbled, all bundled up next to a crate. He couldn't possibly grow tired in this freezing weather even if he was on his last legs. 

As if to add insult to injury a heavy snow began to fall, sending a wave of disgruntled complaints through the party. For a band that was supposed to be lying in wait, they were doing a horrible job of it thus far. 

"There seems to be a good place to hide over there by the wood pile. Perhaps we should get into position?" Rolanda pointed out, ever polite, but the Au Ra’s underlying message was clear; ‘And keep quiet.’ 

Aislinn eyed the woodpile, noticing the roof over it also provided shelter from the snow. "Makes sense. No point standing around so close to the graves we're supposed to be watching." she nodded, as she stamped her feet in an effort to keep them warm. 

"Anything’s better than getting battered by this god awful ice. I second the motion," Aiswyda managed between shivers.

While the rest of them tucked themselves in close to the woodpile, N’yami chose a different route altogether and climbed atop the roof instead. The Seeker laid down with her carbuncle snuggled under her chest. Within a few minutes the snow started to cover them, providing a nice hiding spot. "Keep a lookout, Whack." She whispered to her companion, and the summoned chirped in agreement.

Then, there was nothing to do but wait. The biting cold ceased any inclination to talk and time stretched to a standstill. The once white landscape steadily darkened, until naught was visible but faint lights from faraway settlements. With a new moon in the sky, there was not even the benefit of its silver glow this night, the muffled silence of drifting snow leaving each of them with only their own thoughts for company. 

The wintry quiet made the sudden sound of glass shattering all the more shocking. A loud and piercing sound that came directly from Ifoux’s hut. As one, the band jolted with alarm, several hands flying to the hilts, grips and quivers of their own weapons. 

 "A thief?!" Tana hissed out.

Nazyl scanned the area. It didn't feel right to leave their hiding place...but the sound was concerning, "M-mayhaps someone should check on our c-client..." he said, his teeth chattering in the cold. 

N'yami stood up and shook the snow off herself, dropping down from her hiding spot and drawing her gunblade as she started heading towards the house. Several paces behind her, firearms drawn, Aislinn and Rolanda wordlessly circled around the house to cover the Seeker. 

"I'll s-stay here n' watch fer anehthon' unusual. Holler if somethin' happens." Nazyl said as loudly as he dared as the three disappeared into the night.

In the darkness, not much can be seen...but much can be heard. There came the sound of snow crunching underfoot and heavy, gusty breaths off to the right of the woodpile, in the exact opposite direction from where the three women had gone. 

Nazyl jumped from the logs, letting his ears guide him towards the heavy footfalls, sword fully drawn. His eyes strained to find something to pin the sound on. Tana and Aiswyda, not far behind.

Reaching the hut, N’yami pushed the door open slowly, her ruby orbs scanning the inside of the house to see what had caused the crash, her carbuncle perched on her shoulder. "If this guy gets me killed we're taking all his rugs, Whack." She mumbled to the carbuncle.

The living room area appeared untouched, though the floor was unnaturally wet. Once inside, the Seeker noted it was noticeably warmer and even a bit humid. She pushed further in, heading toward Ifoux's bedroom, whose door was left ajar.

"Odd..." She took a couple more careful steps forward as she entered the living room, sending out a pulse of her own aether to sense for anything living or dead, using it as a sonar of sorts. 

But as she crept her way into the space all that met her was a bedroom that felt as heated as a furnace and a shattered window. Ifoux was nowhere to be found. She stood there, puzzling over the sight until a bellow from outside grabbed her attention. 

"Stop right there!" Nazyl shouted, "Ye'll go no furthah!"

From behind the hut a gangly man-shaped creature had come into view. Although hard to make out in the dark, the beast looked as if an Elezen form had been stretched beyond any natural limits. The thing now teetered on four spindly limbs as it crunched its way across the snow, lifting its head to sniff the air, blatantly ignoring the lalafell’s shouts. 

"Have it yer way." Nazyl grunted as he aimed a strike at the creature’s legs. In the darkness his sword bit through empty air. 

The creature paused long enough to tilt its head at Nazyl with a glowing, blood red stare. And yet something about those eyes and its face was familiar - a hollow echo of someone he once knew. With its long limbs, it stepped right over Nazyl and steadily made its way to the graveyard.

Rolanda rushed to join Nazyl and the others as Aislinn kept her post, her concern growing with every moment that N’yami failed to emerge from the hut. The minutes ticked by until she decided it was time to go after the Seeker. She had just taken a few cautious steps towards the hut’s door when N’yami came bolting out of the house, alerted to the sounds of the fight. Wasting no time, the miqo’te launched herself at the creature with a loud battlecry. 

The dark cover of night added a sense of disarray to what was already a chaotic fight. Half the time the band was striking blind and hoping against hope they hit something other than empty air or worse, a comrade. There was an overwhelming sense of gratification when a punch landed solidly or a blade struck dark flesh, causing the creature to howl in pain. 

"Shoulda stuck with our gut on this one. I -knew- that Elezen wasn't right." Aislinn muttered as she cocked her gun and stared down the sight, trying to target the dark mass against the shadowy drifts of snow in the night. After a breath and confident in her aim, she pulled back the trigger, firing off a single shot. The sounding report echoed off the mountain walls.

The shot hit a partially wounded limb, knocking it clean off. The writhing shadow howled in pain as a hot, black ooze spurts out from the area, staining the white snow black. The cool ice hisses as the liquid makes contact.

"The hell is this thing?!" Tana exclaimed as she jumped back to avoid the errant limb. 

In retaliation, the beast struck out at the nearest person, N’yami, and took her in its iron grip, squeezing with a force that could knock the breath out of a man twice her size. The miqo’te felt the wind knocked out of her with a gasp as the creature tried to crush her. From up close, she could make out the shadow beast’s face. It was covered in a constantly moving, black slime - and every so often - something else peeked out from just underneath. 

"Didn't yer mother teach ya to chew yer damn food?" she sputtered. 

Nazyl already knew what was happening, the window break and the oddly familiar features...it was just as he feared, "Try not ta kill the thing. Cripple it n' disable it, but don't kill it." the knight shouted, running to the limb that held the Seeker, raising the blade high and cutting down with all his strength.

Nazyl’s swing cut at the beast’s arm, and it loosened its vice grip on Nyami, though it still kept her in hand. It seemed scared, but motivated by a fierce desire to live. With great effort, it splurted two more limbs from its body that hit the ground, wet and hot.

The Plainsfolk glanced around quickly, "Hey, who had that sleep juice?! Mighteh fine time ta use it I'd say!"

"Whackara! Someone has your friend!" N’yami cried out to her carbuncle.

The summoned that stood next to Aislinn slowly turned its head towards the beast, its aetherical fur puffed up in anger and the little ball of light charged in, ripping right through the limb so N'yami could be free from its grasp. The detached hand of the creature dropped to the ground, still clutching the miqo’te, though she could now wiggle free of the limb’s frozen grip. 

Aiswyda hurriedly found the sleeping serum - a vial of glowing, blue liquid - deep within her coat pockets. Now she had to find a way to somehow get it IN the beast, with nothing but fists at the ready. She climbed the shadow, ignoring its scream and twisting attempts to shake her off, and felt around for anything that felt like a mouth. She managed to pour half of the liquid in before she lost her grip and fell back into the snow. The glowing vial landed a few fulms away from her and luckily, the remainder of its contents still sloshed around the vial. 

With the sleeping draught aided along by a draining spell from Aislinn, the creature’s movements slowed and its glowing red eyes blinked several times, fighting back the urge to rest.

Its limbs shook, and finally gave, as it collapsed into the ground with a great sigh. The dark ooze that covered it jittered uncontrollably, and exploded in every direction as it repelled off of the beast’s core.

Most of the party hit the ground, allowing a majority of the black ooze to fly safely overhead. However, Aislinn and Nazyl failed to react in time, one knocked off the balance by the explosion, the other simply distracted. Black ooze slammed into both of them, coating their clothing and leaving a hot, foul residue behind. 

"Lovely." Aislinn sputtered. "That's what I get for not paying attention." she looked down at the ooze dripping down her frame in distaste. As her heavy winter coat heated up to an unbearable degree, she hurriedly shuffled it off, putting some distance between herself and the affected clothing.

Nazyl fell backwards and landed on his rear "GGH! Ugh..."

"Well Nazyl you were complaining about the cold... here is some hot steamy goo to warm yourself with..." Tana gave the Lalafel a sly smile. "Is everyone ok?"

A chorus of confirmations rang out in the dark, though as Aislinn moved closer to the fallen body and the rest of the party, Aiswyda found she had trouble holding back her laughter. "By Llymlaen...is that you Lin? Can hardly tell in the dark and slime."

Aislinn shook her slime-coated head but gave Aiswyda a thumbs up. "Here...and in need of several showers." she called over to the Seawolf in wry amusement.

Though Ifoux’s dark skin made it hard to make out against the black snow, the naked duskwight elezen lay at the center of the explosion, deep asleep. Rolanda’s arrow was still embedded in the man’s back, and several bruises from Tana’s punches decorated his abdomen.

"....What a mess. He's injured." Nazyl said lowly. 

N'yami hoisted herself up as her gaze landed on the Elezen. "Oh...he's naked." It finally hit her. "Oh my gods, this man is naked and needs a coat!"

"I think he needs a healer... it seems my punches did good work and... he doesn't look to be a fighter..." Tana noted.

"Would that I could be proud o' harmin' an innocent..." Nazyl retorted.  

As Rolanda, Tana and N’yami saw to protecting the naked man from the elements, Nazyl turned his attention to Aiswyda. 

"Who gave ye that serum again? This all just screams setup..."

"Ser Papachimo. He pretty much made this mess, and we're the cleanup crew," Aiswyda answered as she peered down at the sleeping elezen.

Nazyl scoffed under his breath. "Man's been aethericalleh altered it seems. Fallin' asleep makes somethin' else take ovah, n' if this is what this Lalafell caused, then I wanna have a chat."

Aislinn slid her gaze to Aiswyda, wondering what Papachimo would think of a chat with Nazyl. Though she blessedly kept her silence.

Aiswyda caught Aislinn's glance and responded with a knowing look. Papachimo had a lot to answer for, and she had a feeling Nazyl was going to lay even more justice into the man.

The lalafell glanced between the two women. "...There ain't anehmore like this, are there?"

"This is supposed to be the last." Aislinn answered Nazyl.

"I see." He paused, glancing at what was going on with the man beside them. The others had pulled a heavy rug from the Elezen’s hut and were currently bundling the injured man up within it, chattering all the while about the make and price of Ishgardian rugs. 

Nazyl side eyed the rug-robbers with a sigh. Do they always take personal possessions? Mayhaps he should consider who he goes with in the future... "Bettah late ta the parteh I guess. Then that'll be me next destination. Wherevah that man is."

Aislinn nodded to Nazyl, understanding the lalafell's anger but she had already given Papachimo a piece of her mind on the subject. She looked to the Elezen, now snug in a rolled up rug. Odd...but protected from the elements?

They couldn't very well take the man to the Ishgardians. A shared look between them said they all well-remembered what lay at the bottom of Witchdrop and they had little faith he wouldn't end up joining the dead on the floor of the chasm if they left him in the care of those at Camp Dragonhead.

"We could take him back to the Heartwood estate so Y'ahn and Nys can take a look at him." N’yami stated with a firm nod. 

Aislinn couldn’t argue with the logic. "Shall we get him back home?"

N'yami gave a curt nod. "Faster we get him there, the better."

Aiswyda agreed and stood behind the rug as to hide from public view the elezen that was wrapped up within. "What's done is done. Let's get out of this cold."

[starswornoaths]

A Promise made, a Promise Kept (2/3)

Part 1

Though there are downsides to pining for an adrenaline junkie, there are perks. Sometimes.

Word count: 2,874

Without thought, his arm shot out to try to catch her, but he was too caught off guard, and only just felt the tips of her hair slip through his fingers. Even as he followed her trajectory until chest hit Midgardsormr’s back, his arm could not reach her as she plummeted into the misty abyss below. His cry of alarm tangled itself in his throat, struggling against his heart for purchase. He scanned the mists below for a sign of her, though once she had been enveloped below, she was lost to his eyes.

“Midgardsormr!” He called in alarm as he righted himself. He felt dizzying panic settle upon his shoulders— the wind lashing against him was nothing for the cold fear that sunk into his bones. “Serella— she—!”

“Follow her instruction.” The great dragon huffed in a bored tone. “She is fine.”

“She leapt!” He shouted. His blood roared in his ears and his chest hurt for how hard his heart was set to pounding, and despite how tightly he pressed his hands against the wyrm’s scales they still shook. “Please, we must—!”

“Thou art loud, child of man.” Midgardsormr snorted. “Have patience.”

Aymeric opened his mouth to argue— to beg to save her, if he must needs beg— though his pleas dissipated when he swore that he distantly heard her cheering. Peering over Midgardsormr’s neck, he saw a distant figure burst from the murky aether clouds below in a splash of mist and ascend, rapidly, and Serella’s cheering only grew louder as the figure rose.  

“Is that...a griffin?” He realized, startled that she had not only shaved a decade off of his life, but had also somehow managed to neglect mentioning she had a griffin.

“She hath a flair for the dramatic.” Midgardsormr said, and Aymeric could hear the unamused tone in his voice. “That thou were not aware beggars belief.”

His linkpearl rang— and he tapped his finger to it.

“Ohh, that was spectacular!” Serella’s voice came in through the static and wind. He watched her griffin flutter its wings to slow their flight. “Best feeling in the world!”

“What in the name of the Fury possessed you to do such a thing?!” He exclaimed, and if he had not been flying, he would have pressed a hand over his heart to still it. 

Midgardsormr quickly caught up to her bird, and they were close enough that he could see her grinning broadly.

“You need to fly without me!” She said, and he could still hear the laughter in her voice. “And I was safe besides!”

Aymeric spared her more than a glance, now that they were flying beside one another. She met his gaze, her eyes wide and wild, glittering with mirth and mischief, her hair windswept and whipping freely about her flushed face. The very picture of an adventurer in her element, gorgeous against the setting sun and the beating of wings. His protests faded in the wake of her splendor, and he quietly cursed her spell— for it must have been magic that made him utterly, stupidly enchanted by the crook of her grin.

“Pray adequately warn me next time,” he blanched to hide the way his heart flipped. “That I might not lose years of my lifespan to fretting.”

“I said not to panic!” She said, though judging by her tone her enthusiasm was duly curbed. “Still...sorry I worried you.”

“Given that you are safe,” he sighed and willed his heart to be still. “All is forgiven, I suppose.” He watched the griffin slow again, and allow them to pass. “Where are you going?” He asked her.

“I’m observing!” She explained, and when he turned to see where she had moved, he saw that she was now riding some fulms behind them. She waved. “I’m going to let you fly on your own, and we’ll circle a bit to let you get comfortable!”

“You mean to direct me from back there?” Aymeric asked, smiling in spite of himself.

“More like I’m back here to coach you on posture and balance.” Serella answered. “Last thing we need is you taking a tumble.”

“I shan’t fall,” he yessed her.

“Well if you do, then I’ll be here to catch you. Always, Aymeric.”

His heart flipped again in his chest— at this point he was beginning to wonder if her earnest nature was going to cause him some sort of medical condition— and he quietly cursed at the way he melted, just a little, at her words. For how could he stay angry at her when she gave him such a warm, heartfelt promise? When she made him feel safe despite the swirling aether that churned below? He had neither the will, want, nor strength.

She instructed him how to properly mold mis posture to follow that of the dragon he rode, how to loosen his shoulders and elbows to move with the beating of Midgardsormr’s wings. What pinching and discomfort had previously come with riding eased under her tutelage— though he had initially thought this lesson superfluous, he happily conceded that it was necessary.

Idly, he wondered if riding came easily to his ancestors— and if it would become natural to his descendants. He could only hope— and strive to pave the way for it.

“There we go!” She cheered him once he had managed to get the hang of it— and he fought the urge to preen, just a little, under her praise. “Now, just let Midgardsormr guide you. You’ll have to do much the same with Vidofnir.” 

“Of course,” Aymeric said.

“Presuming thou hath finished their hen squawking?” Midgardsormr mused dryly.

“Your what?” Serella asked.

“My nothing, Mistress Arcbane.” Aymeric grumbled, and hoped the Father of Dragons could feel the ice his glare was drilling into the back of his head. “Pray continue.”

“I’m just observing at this point.” She said idly. When he stole a glance at her from over his shoulder he found her with a hand to her ear, the other resting idly on her thigh. He felt a twinge of jealousy at her comfort in the skies. “I’ll guide you as we go, so just leave the comm open.” 

“By your leave,” he said simply, and returned his focus on following her instructions.

It was not long that they circled the Holy See and the surrounding mists, Aymeric was sure— long enough for his center of balance to adjust to flying, but not so long he could tell that the sun had shifted overly much in the sky. It was not long, and yet, that small part of him that keenly felt the wanderlust that had awakened in him from his brief travels with Serella wanted to beg her to land anywhere else but Ishgardian stone. He ignored such childish want; better he focused on his duties, and reminded himself that he would surely make poor company for the Warrior of Light, so inexperienced with adventuring as he was.

It was harder still to not allow his focus to drift to his instructor— he so dearly wanted to simply watch her fly around, her wings unclipped, her burdens laid upon the soil. He wanted to watch her wanderer’s heart thunder in the clouds. By the Fury, he could watch her forever, if he were allowed. He ached to hear her laughter ring like the church’s bells calling worshipers to their faith. Because he would answer, devout man that he was, and answer gladly to kneel in helpless supplication at her altar.

Would that obligation and duty not have clipped his wings long before they had met...

“We’ve been at this a while, and I think you’ve got a knack for it now,” Serella spoke up, drawing him from his wandering thoughts. “Let’s try landing— you’ll have to practice how to balance for that, too.”

“I am at your command,” he answered amicably. 

“I’ll fly ahead— Midgardsormr will follow, and I’ll walk you through it.” She said.

Sure enough, he watched with delight as her griffin carefully arced from behind the great wyrm, a flutter of feathers and a fleeting glance of her grin, and in the span of seconds she was flying past them. 

Under her guidance he hovered over Midgardsormr’s back and ignored the way his thighs protested the prolonged position. Though the landing jostled him somewhat, he didn’t fall back onto the dragon’s spine, much to his relief. Still, to compare their landings, it was clear Serella was the more practiced hand.

He watched her griffin descend upon one of the many parapets and platforms of the higher walking areas of the Holy See, those balconies and bridgeways typically reserved for the nobility or the clergy. Midgardsormr followed, though drifted far enough to the side that there was ample room for him to comfortably land. As he had been warned, when the great wyrm landed upon the stone, heavy and jarring, Aymeric fought to keep himself from falling back onto Midgardsormr’s spine. He eased back into sitting down once the great wyrm stilled. Serella’s griffin trotted closer, and she closed their linkpearl call. 

“We are landing here?” Aymeric asked her.

“For the moment,” Serella answered, dismounting swiftly. “It’ll give you a chance to practice another takeoff on your own—and a small break is good for all of us, I should think. We’ve been riding for a while— longer than you’ll need to with Vidofnir.” She came to stand beside Midgardsormr and peered up at him. “Your legs need to stretch.”

“My—?” He shifted to ask what she meant when he suddenly felt his thighs protest—sharply.

He choked back a noise of startled pain, stilling his legs instantly. It was not as though he had never ridden a mount before—why did his legs hurt so?

“Not the same as riding a chocobo, eh?” Serella called up to him, smiling. “Don’t feel bad. I fell face first in the snow first time I dismounted.”

“Fortunate that we are taking a break, then.” Aymeric concluded, swinging his leg around and trying to fight back a curse as he did so.

“Take it easy dismounting, though,” Serella warned him as he made to hop off dragonback. “Your legs will probably—“

Buckle, he found out as he landed with all the grace of a newborn doe. He let out a choked cry of alarm as he staggered forward in an effort to catch himself.

Serella seemed to expect it, as her arms shot out to catch him. With a hand pressed against his breastplate to stop him from barreling into her and an arm secured around his back to ensure he would not simply collapse under the weight of his stupidity, they were inadvertently pressed alarmingly close—less than a few ilms separated them.

“Steady now, Lord Commander,” Serella breathed with a quiet laugh, peering at him through half lidded eyes.

…Was she doing that on purpose? She must be, he thought errantly, his gaze flitting between her eyes and her lips. Fury preserve him, but it would be easier to simply give in. By the Fury, but ever since the Churning Mists, ever since she had pressed her lips to his it was near all he could think about in what few quiet moments he had for himself. It had only been a moment— only ever a moment between them— but to have felt the silk of her scars contoured against his lips, beneath his fingertips, to know she tasted of cinnamon and her kisses filled his head with hazy pleasure had haunted him ever since.

Halone save him, but if he just let himself love her already— and he could, he could—but no. Not yet—not yet, he told himself firmly. He had made her a promise, and Fury strike him down, he intended to keep it, agony be damned.

Her scent—cloves and lilies floated on the cold breeze when he took a deep, calming breath to try and steady himself—in more ways than one. The scent soothed and stirred him all at once, and as they lingered in that scant space between propriety and surrender he felt himself waver.

“Of course,” he said in an almost whisper, righting himself and feeling both relief and agony at the way she took that crucial but excruciating step back from him. He smoothed his hand over the front of his coat and managed to smile through the hammering of his heart in his ears. “My thanks, Mistress Arcbane.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” she said in a voice lilted with laughter as the hand that had wrapped around to his back softly slid down his bicep and rested upon his forearm. “I’ve told you time and again: I am, as ever, your shield.”

Her gaze was far warmer than that of a simple protector and friend, he noticed not for the first time. Given her candidness for her affection...it was harder to feign ignorance for the sake of his own promise. 

All the same, it was harder still to think that she could possibly love him.

“And that means much to me,” he replied, a slow smile spreading across his face, though he winced as he shuffled on his feet and was promptly reminded of the ache in his thighs. “Really, why does this bother me so?” He asked with a grimace. “I am more than accustomed to riding on the back of a chocobo—horses, even!” 

He began to wonder if he didn’t sound like he was merely whining, so he stopped himself from going on.

“It’s the width of a dragon’s back,” she explained, giggling behind her hand. “You’re not sitting at their widest part, but it’s still wider than riding on the back of a bird—moreso a horse.”

“I suppose ‘tis true enough.” Aymeric sighed.

“Take your time, let your legs relax a bit,” Serella said. “No one can see us here.”

His mind’s eye briefly flew to his desk, where there was still much left to do before he could allow himself to properly breathe but then Serella was grinning at him in that knowing way, and he allowed himself to drift back to her. 

“T’would seem in my best interest to take your expert advice.” He said, his smile returning.

“Good,” she replied with a grin as she stepped close again. “Because that’ll give you a chance to look out there,” she said, gesturing out to the open air with a sweep of her arm.

“What—“ would I be looking at, was what he had wanted to ask, though as he turned his head to follow what her hand was presenting, his question died on his tongue, slain by the splendor before him.

The Holy See, from the Pillars to Foundation, and the vast, sweeping vistas of the snow-covered Highlands beyond the Gates of Judgement stretched out before them, all bright and bathed in the warm glow of the sunset. Everywhere the sun’s light caressed seemed to glow under its affections, golden and brilliant and hopeful. A blend of steel, snow, and sun, all laid out before them, gilded by the Twelve’s resplendence.

“I know you rarely have the time,” Serella spoke up in the quiet of his awe. “But every once in a while, it’s important we remind ourselves what we fight for.” When he felt the heel of her hand brush his palm he tore his gaze from the world before him to see that she was looking at him with an expression he dared not to name. “And…who we fight for.”

Fury sustain me. 

His legs suddenly felt unsteady all over again. It seemed a good enough excuse to allow himself to lace his fingers with hers. 

“I suspect the timing of this exercise was premeditated.” He teased, at a loss as to what to say.

“I suppose I’ve been found out.” She answered with a grin.

“Thank you,” he murmured, turning his gaze back out to the other stunning scene before him. “I have lived here all my life, and yet—“ he let out a soft sigh. “I have never seen my home in such a way. It is as if it is all new to me again, gazing out from here.”

“I like to think it’s the sun setting on an old era.” She spoke up, her voice almost reverent. “And now…we just await the dawn of a new one.”

“I find that fitting.” He agreed quietly. Drinking in the glittering splendor, he almost distantly added, “though I wonder who we will be when that dawn comes.”

“Better people, I should hope.” She answered, her voice as soft as his.

Sparing her a sidelong glance as she peered out over the horizon, he marveled at the way her eyes caught the golden glow of the setting sun, her hair gently swaying in the breeze, and simply drank her in as she was. He suddenly felt the weight of the box more keenly in his coat, and a part of him thought that, perhaps, this was the opportunity he had desperately been waiting for.

No one can see us here, Serella’s words echoed in his mind, and he dug for what courage he could find.

Perhaps it was time to take more than just the one moment.

Part 3

[mythriteshah]

The Sultan’s Eternal Dance

The arid climate… the bustle of merchants… the exotic yet deadly displays of dance and song.  These were but a few of the favored traits for which this region was known.   Beneath the midday sun stood a resplendent mansion of mythril blue, its icy edifices shining in defiance of the Warden’s gaze.  An owl with outspread wings wearing a mythril crown and clutching a bar of the same metal within its talons was shown above the front entrance, and within the courtyard was a large crowd of people in a semi-circle, seemingly awaiting the commencement of some show.  The men of the crowd wore loose thobes and kaftans of various colors and designs, while the ladies wore lehengas and other midriff-baring blouses.

Before too long, the doors to the mansion would open, and a cold wind would blow from within, startling the crowd for but a moment before they saw six Lalafellin women adorned in ice blue evening gowns – each flanking a taller Lalafell male in the center who wore a fancy shirt-and-sarouel-combo of ice blue and gold with babouches to match, and just above his left ear was a beautiful corsage of light blue Hydrangeas with a tassel dangling from it.

“It’s him…!  One of Radz-at-Han’s most premier merchant-lords and his Angels…!” said a woman in a hushed whisper.

“The Mythrite Sultan…?! He dances?!” said a Hingan visitor in shock.  As the crowd’s whispers intensified, the Sultan clapped his hands twice and his entourage fanned out in a large circle formation.  Once they had gotten into position, he rose a hand into the air, then snapped his fingers.  As if on cue, the ringing of steel filled the air and the crowd jumped in response. The Angels drew circular blades from their hips and a chord would be played from a sitar, followed by the rhythmic clapping of hands as more instruments began to join in the melody.

The Angels danced and twirled gracefully in a clockwise manner, chakrams in hand, as the Sultan stood still in the center with his eyes shut.  The crowd watched on with bated breath until the silver-haired Angel tossed a chakram at the Sultan.  Some of the onlookers closed their eyes before the blade would find its mark, but with an effortless turn of his heel, the Sultan twirled as the chakram flew mere ilms from his cheek, and her blue-eyed counterpart on the opposite end caught it with her free hand.  Before the crowd could catch its breath, the malachite-haired Angel tossed her own chakram at the Sultan’s feet.  Just as it would hit, he sprung a half-yalm in the air and avoided it completely, the chakram skidding along the smooth marble as her onyx-haired counterpart performed a cartwheel and caught it as she returned upright, maintaining her dance all the while.

The crowd was beginning to watch in awe, some scattered applause being heard as others talked excitedly amongst each other.  Now came the amber-haired Angel’s turn.  With a sly wink, she hurled a chakram towards the Sultan’s crown, who had maintained his pose as he landed before dropping down into a perfect split, the blade flying over his head as her aqua-eyed counterpart easily caught it in her free hand. At this point the people were cheering as they repeated this pattern for about a minute, the Sultan gracefully avoiding the flying steel to the rhythm of the slow melody which guided them.

Then, the Sultan snapped his fingers and his Angels ceased their movements, frozen in fourth position as the music halted.  He then revealed a pair of large fans made in a Near Eastern motif, brandishing them proudly before he tapped his babouch on the ground twice, and the music would resume, but at a much faster tempo.  The Angels would repeat their pattern again, only this time the Sultan would manipulate the incoming chakrams with his fans, returning or otherwise diverting their course utilizing the power of the wind.

The melody intensified as the Angels threw in pairs, then in threes, each time resulting in a whirlwind of spinning steel before returning to their respective senders. As the crowd’s cheering grew louder, the spectacle would soon reach its climax.  For this deadly finale, the Sultan began gathering energy as the Angels’ dance increased in time with the music.  After making one full lap around the Sultan, they each simultaneously threw a single chakram at him.

He then pirouetted as elementally-charged aether began to exude from his fans.  That same cold wind from before could be felt as the Sultan span at high speeds, causing a gust to form from beneath him, and gathering the thrown chakrams in the vortex as it suddenly began to freeze over!

As the frozen pillar took form, the Sultan casted his fans away and replaced them with a chakram thrown by two of his Angels, and thus began another series of flowing movements as his body and that of his Angels began to glow violently.

“Wait… this couldn’t be…!” said a Thavnairian native.  “How will he execute it from way up there?!”

Somersaulting from the pillar, the four from his beautiful entourage still possessing a chakram would throw their remaining weapon in the air.  The Sultan landed on one and finally opened his eyes, glowing fiercely from the energy he had gathered.  In an instant, he would dash through the pillar in a streak of crimson, flower petals flinging in all directions as he descended onto the second chakram.  He would perform this same dash again, and once more, making his diagonal descent upon the bladed stairs as the final chakram was mere ilms from the ground; he gave a wink to their captive audience before one last somersault he would perform as the dazzling display of crimson blades carving the ice into diamond dust was all they beheld.

As the melody ended in a crescendo, the Angels caught their chakrams and struck a pose in a line formation, flanking their Sultan at the center, who landed perfectly in between as he gave a flowing bow.  A snowy owl with the symbol of the Traders on its breast perched itself upon the Sultan’s head, spreading its wings proudly as the performance had reached its conclusion.

The crowd roared with cheers and applause at the death-defying feats this troupe had accomplished.  The Sultan and his entourage basked in the audience’s ardor for a while longer before taking their leave, leaving them awestruck and wanting for more.

“A merchant-lord; a fashion designer, and a peerless dancer!  What can’t that Lalafell do?!” commented the Hingan visitor.

“Seeing stunts like that make me wonder how the guy’s still single!” spoke a fellow Hannish dancer. “The Crimson Lotus in midair?  Utter madness, I say!”

As the crowd dispersed, the Warden’s gaze would soon give way to dusk as the Lover now took Her turn to rule the heavens.  As night arrived upon Radz-at-Han, the people were still abuzz over the spectacle presented by the Hannish merchant-lord known only as Thiji Higuri, and his ever-growing army of Angels.  From his within their mansion – the Higuri Regalia Main Branch Headquarters as it is officially known – the Mythrite Sultan was garbed in his signature robes and turban, relaxing on the balcony adjoining his chambers.  An impressive view of the city-state and the region proper could be seen from this vantage point, and the moon shone brightly amidst the night sky.

Standing beside him was a Lalafellin flower born of Thavnair, with golden-blonde tresses, aqua blue eyes, and a smile as warm as the Near Eastern sun, pouring for the Mythrite Sultan a glass of his favorite lassi.  This woman robed in white was Veeveena Veena, Lord Thiji’s Main Branch Advisor.

After taking a sip and nodding in approval of its exquisite taste, Thiji gestured to Veeveena as she poured herself a glass, only filling it about halfway before setting down the pitcher.  She took the glass in her hands and would enjoy a large sip herself, savoring the sweet yet icy flavor.  When she exhaled, her breath was visible in a light mist, which made her giggle.

“Another day won, My Sultan,” she spoke in her soft tone.  “Before too long, the secret will come out – you will not be able to claim that you cannot dance once the adoration of the people reach Eorzean ears!”

Thiji took another sip of his lassi, paused, and placed his glass on the pedestal beside him, resting his folded hands on his lap.

“Plans within plans, Miss Veeveena,” he replied.  “The feats we perform here are vastly different compared to that which lies beyond the Sea of Jade.  And with adventuring back on the rise, there will be far more urgent concerns plaguing everyone’s minds than a mere spectacle of dance.  Which is where the PiB Catalogue will come into play.”

“Ahh, of course!  You meant fashion!” Veeveena chimed.  “That battle is definitely ongoing, is it not? Speaking of, did we not befriend fellow royalty about a moon ago?  Perhaps she can offer insight on the trends of… what did she call it – Norvrandt?  A fashion catalogue so prestigious that it transcends worlds!”

“I definitely like the sound of that,” Thiji stated, “but I did not want to press that matter too soon, especially considering Princess Kikki is still growing accustomed to this world with our allies.  But rest assured that there is yet much to do for the realm of fashion.  And we shall seize it, as we have done twice over now.”

Veeveena bowed low as she finished her glass, turning her head towards the entrance for a brief moment, sporting a grin on her face before taking the pitcher in her hand and leaving her lord alone.  Thiji sat in silence as his new company would arrive in the form of his younger twin brother, Horu.

He had continued moving until Horu could be seen from Thiji’s peripheral vision.  He wore robes were not unlike a palette swap of Thiji’s – switching the ice blues with the whites and golds.  He offered a glass of lassi to his brother – most likely left behind by Veeveena.  With a smile, Horu accepted and joined his brother at the edge of the balcony.

“How are you faring, brother?” Horu asked.  “It is good to know that your edge has not dulled since you retired from adventuring.”

“This realm is always full of problems,” the Mythrite Sultan replied, “and I must not become complacent in my new lifestyle in case the worst should occur.  Even if those “Tryhardeans” should continue their subjugation of Eorzea – or their incompetence thereof.”

“I see…” Horu pondered. “So this must be why you’ve developed your own methods of battle and aetherial manipulation…”

“Horu, you of all people should know that it extends far beyond that,” spoke Thiji as he turned away from his younger twin.  “I’ve endured enough hardships and battles to last ten lifetimes, and with each obstacle I’ve overcome did the Regalia grow stronger.  And with this growth I had made the discovery that many of this realm’s inhabitants willingly shackle themselves to stagnancy, reluctant and antipathetic in stepping out from their comfort zone.  Such potential has been squandered as a result.”

“This is true, brother…” Horu agreed. “However, not many have faced the amount of dangers you have during your tenure as an adventurer.  In their defense, not many are as fortunate to obtain the power that you now possess.”

The Mythrite Sultan shook his head and turned his body towards Horu.

“I never sought power, Horu.  ‘Tis not as grandiose as you may believe.  I became who I am today in order to distinguish myself from the dross; I wanted to show this realm that they are capable of accomplishing far greater than what they believe.  But I do not show this through battle.  I show it through my truest strengths – through mercantilism and fashion,” Thiji explained.  “Power in Beauty – ‘tis a way of life our clan has embraced for generations.  The realm shall learn this as well, and it is my hope that those same values will be embedded into the Eorzeans for the winters to come…”  He paused and returned to his sofa, heaving a large sigh as the next words he would say were ones he felt have been stated over and over again…

“…For I will not be on this realm forever.”

Horu knew what he meant. His older brother, now the head of his family after their father and mother retired, had just about everything he could ever wish for… everything save for one essential component in his life.

Thiji’s gaze would land upon Horu, almost expecting him to say it, but Horu refrained from doing so, only out of respect for his brother.  He would part his lips as if to speak, but before he could utter anything, two more figures would approach the balcony.

They were Lalafells just like Thiji and Horu – one male, one female, but far younger.  The female was the shortest of the pair, about half as tall as Thiji.  She sported long platinum-pink hair, an ice blue left eye and a silver-white right eye. The male, though a head-and-a-half taller, had royal blue hair of similar length, and had eyes of the same color.  They approached the two with hesitant steps and coy countenances, the girl holding some sort of parchment behind her back as they came closer.

“Kakasu.  Kakashoa,” spoke Thiji, sensing their presence.  His voice, though calm, commanded the two to stop several fulms from Thiji’s seat, looking around feverishly.  Horu remained silent as well, wondering how this would unfold for them.  “What brings you to us?  Has someone dared to harm you?” The two exchanged looks for a moment before Kakasu gestured to her brother to advance. Though reticent at first, he would comply.

“N-No, Uncle Thiji. Not at all,” said Kakashoa.  “We… We just wanted to give you something.”

“F-Father insisted,” Kakasu followed, nodding to Horu.  She resumed her approach as Kakashoa brought up the rear, stopping once they were in the center of Thiji’s gaze.  “We hope you like it,” Kakasu said as she approached her Uncle, handing the paper to him before walking back slowly.

As the Mythrite Sultan took the paper in his hand, the air stood still as his eyebrows furrowed.  Horu maintained his silent vigil from the sidelines as Thiji’s niece and nephew nervously tugged on their kaftans, waiting for a response.  What felt like the longest minute of their lives had passed until Kakasu took a deep breath as she mustered the courage to speak.

“Uncle Thiji?” she said with a bit of confidence.  “Mother and Father told us about your adventures and… everything that happened. They even said that you were upset at him because he… he helped make us.  And…”

Each word became harder to say as Kakasu continued her explanation.  So much that she was beginning to tear up out of fear of what may happen.  Kakashoa then backed his sister up, placing an arm in front of her.

“We… We hoped this would make you happy, Uncle Thiji,” his nephew followed.  “We wanted to find a way to show you that we still think she’s out there… somewhere.  We don’t know what she would look like, so we just drew someone very pretty and fashionable. We’re sorry if it offends you, Uncle Thiji… we didn’t mean to.”

They both lowered their heads in shame.  Thiji gave one more glance at the drawing before rising back to his feet and placing it on the cushion, taking a few slow paces towards the edge of the balcony.  Horu turned his head away slightly, feeling some guilt as well.  Since he married Umimi and bore them two children, he had this looming suspicion that his older brother despised and reviled him deep down.  But Horu never intended to bring any stress upon Thiji. Quite the contrary, in fact.  He wanted to lessen as much of the burden of being a merchant-lord and fashion mogul from his shoulders as possible, working behind the scenes to ensure the Regalia moves like the well-oiled machine for which it is well-known.

“Come, Niece.  Come, Nephew,” beckoned Thiji as he kept his gaze fixed upon the moon.  Fearing the worst, Kakasu and Kakashoa made their way towards their Uncle, slightly trembling as they flanked him on his left and right, respectively.  After a long pause, the next thing they would feel is the warmth of a hand resting upon their heads.  They looked up at Thiji in astonishment, their worries quickly vanishing from their hearts, as he gave them a shake of his head.  “Kakasu.  Kakashoa. I thank you both for this.  You as well, Horu.”

Thiji’s brother turned his head towards him, his eyes widened at what he beheld.  “Understand, young ones, that I am not upset at you for perpetuating our family heritage.  Just know that you two have been brought into this world by my brother and Lady Umimi brings me relief.  Yes, my dream may have died some winters ago, but that, too, can be replaced. ‘Twas then that I realized that my own fate lied elsewhere.”

“But your romantic dream was your biggest one ever!” Kakasu replied, practically in tears.  “The play Father said you loved so much that you could recite it from start to finish… We thought we’d prove to you that your sorceress is out there somewhere!  We don’t like seeing you all alone and sad and… Sultana-less.  We wanted you to be proud of us!”

“I am proud of you two, Kakasu,” Thiji said back.  Her tears would cease as she looked back up to her Uncle, who had his arms around their shoulders, and whose gaze was still fixed on that milky-white star.  “I’ve come to terms with this life in which I lead.  The Regalia is in good hands now.  You two are its heirs, and I am fine with this.  Just so long as this line continues to wed other Lalafells.”

This slight jest made the two chuckle, along with Horu.  Thiji then gave them a hug and kissed the crowns of their heads.  “I will treasure this gift.  ‘Twill remind me that there is something to which I can at least look forward in the winters to come.  And if it doesn’t… that is good, too.  With family like ours, coupled our numerous allies and our dependable Angels, The Regalia will prosper and flourish – with or without someone by my side.”

With this knowledge, the young twins were elated as they returned their Uncle’s embrace before rushing back to the drawing with the biggest grins on their faces.

“We’ll frame this for you, Uncle Thiji!  At least let us do this!” Kakashoa pleaded.  Thiji gave a silent nod of approval to them before they happily made their way out of his chambers, passing Veeveena on the way.  Horu would soon follow suit, but just as he would cross the threshold, he turned back towards his brother with a smile and said, “We were always rooting for you, brother.  And even now, long after you hung up your mantle of adventurer, we are still rooting for you.”

“Even if she never finds me – should I leave this realm alone – the Regalia will have a Sultana in Lady Umimi,” Thiji confirmed.  Horu would bow his head before leaving his brother to his thoughts, and his gaze turned back toward the moon.  The muscles in his face tensed as he kept his focus on that bright, white star… “Whether you’ve someone in store for me or not concerns me little at this juncture.  We’ve been through this song and dance for many winters now, and to be frank, ‘tis getting dull.”

The Mythrite Sultan went back to his sofa, taking the half-full glass of lassi in hand – still cool to the touch. He kept staring at the moon as he took a slow sip, enjoying the flavor before letting out a satisfied exhale.

“But you’re more than welcome to keep surprising me, Menphina.  You and Nymeia both.”

(Uncle Thiji & His Sultana.  Commissioned by https://artistsnclients.com/people/rizzart)

[voyages-extraordinaires]

C:R ~VE~ Chapter 60

Cracks splinter like a spiderweb, the ice frantically convulsing under the weight of heat and fire.

I have a lovely view of it, propped up on a makeshift sickbed looking out the windows of the airship.

“From what you’re describing, it sounds like she’s stable. It might leave a bit of a scar, but her life isn’t in danger anymore.”

I turn my head to look at the aether transmitter resting next to Cardia. Frankenstein has been guiding her in treating both myself and Conseil, but really she’s been able to do most of it on her own.

She looks so determined, even as relief softens her expression.

“Thanks, Fran,” she says.

I brush my fingertipss against the bandage on my neck. Aleister knew what he was doing. It was clear from the cut on my neck that he meant to kill me slowly.

“Really, Dr. Frankenstein, thank you,” I echo Cardia’s words.

“I’m glad I could help from so far away,” says Frankenstein. “But, really, Cardia’s always been such a wonderful student. I have no doubt in my mind that she could have done it on her own.”

I smile at her.

“Still, it IS nice to have a calm voice nearby,” says Cardia.

As if on cue, Nemo’s laughter echoes from the higher decks of the ship.

“Ah...” Frankenstein’s voice trails off. “Yes, I imagine that’s been a rarity over there.”

“You could mute the transmission if it bothers you,” I say in a saccharine tone.

“Ah... I wasn’t...”

Cardia gives me a smack on the arm usually reserved for Nemo or Barbicane, and I smile sheepishly. “Sorry, Dr. Frankenstein.”

“Um, no, that’s, uh... that’s fine. You’d have no way of knowing.”

“Knowing what? Goodness, Doctor, he couldn’t have been THAT bad in the Royal Society!”

I can barely hear Frankenstein whisper, as if he’s re-living his own horror. “Oh. Yes. He was. He really, really was.”

Cardia picks up the aether transmitter with a smile. “We’ll be home soon, Fran. Can you tell the others we’re on our way?”

“Sure! It will be good to see you again, Cardia.”

“You too,” says Cardia.

As she cuts the connection, Barbicane runs in with a wide smile.

“The ships have shoved off! Cardia-chan, are you ready to join me at the helm?”

Cardia nods. “Yes, I am. Conseil and Pauline will be fine.”

We look over at Conseil, who’s been occupying himself by thumbing through the inventory logs. He’s working so hard that you wouldn’t be able to tell that he had been injured if it weren’t for the bandages on his head and cheek.

“Remarkable. If these records are correct, then it looks like you were able to get a great deal of Hatteras’ research on board,” he says.

“Thank Nemo for that one,” says Barbicane. “He must have retrieved it while getting the bombs set up. But, um...”

Barbicane rubs the back of his head. “Look, there is one thing we weren’t able to get on board, Polly-chan. I’m sorry... but the Harper’s gone. By the time we got to it, it just wasn’t there. It must’ve gotten dislodged in one of the blasts.”

“Dislodged, huh?” I look out the window.

“Aleister,” says Cardia.

I nod.

According to the deal Nemo and I originally made with Aleister, he would have the Harper after everything was done.

I guess he came to collect his prize, after all.

“Polly-chan... I’m sorry...”

I look over at Barbicane. He really means it, you can tell from the way his eyes are looking straight at me, warm and sympathetic.

He really is such a good person.

“I’ll be okay, Barbicane,” I say. “I’m disappointed, but... the most important part of that ship was the research conducted on it.”

I offer a smile. “And its crew, of course.”

“IMPEEEEEEEEEEEEEY BARBICAAAAAAAAAAAANE---!!”

The shout from the speakers is so loud that it makes the walls vibrate.

“I don’t know WHERE you have run off to, but since it seems you need REMINDING, I thought I would be thooooughtful and let you know-- THIS PLACE IS SET TO BLOW VERY SHORTLY, SO PLEASE GET OVER HERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE!”

Barbicane sighs. “Oy, Nemo, no need to pump up the drama! You have to push the button for the final blast to go off...”

“He seems to have a rather itchy trigger finger,” says Conseil.

“How is he, Barbicane?” I ask, my smile fading.

“Well, he’s been laughing a lot...” says Barbicane. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to be acting any different, but...”

“But...” I repeat.

He’s been throwing himself into this escape. He throws himself into all of his work, of course, but now it’s almost like his mind is groping to hold onto anything in order to stop himself from facing the memories Aleister dragged into the sunlight.

“Do you want to come to the bridge and see him?” asks Barbicane.

I awkwardly rub one of my arms, thinking about the last time I was on the bridge of a ship. The memory makes my stomach turn.

But this time, there is no Aleister. He’s long gone, sailing away in the Harper.

“I'll go.”

---

“Professor.”

As Barbicane and I are walking towards the bridge, I hear a quiet voice prick at my ears.

There’s a gentle tap-tap-tap coming from the door to one of the storage rooms, and I sigh before looking over at Barbicane.

“Would you mind waiting for a moment? I should make sure he’s all right.”

I walk over and open the door, peering inside the dim room. 

At first, all I can see is hair.

“Captain?” I ask. “Are you sure you’re all right in here?”

“This is the best place for me,” replies Hatteras.

“... In a dark storage room?” I ask.

He nods.

“It’s quieter here, and I don’t have to watch my work go up in flames.”

“Nemo retrieved it,” I say. “He would never let a scientist’s work go to waste.”

“I’m not a scientist...” Hatteras mutters. “Besides, what good will it do for me now? I suppose if papers buy it, they can pay for a more comfortably padded cell. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to have a window with a view of London’s outer walls.”

“You are a scientist,” I correct him, though I’m not sure how I could respond to the rest of his statement. He needs help. “I... I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re comfortable, Captain,” is all I can manage.

Hatteras shakes his head. “Don’t bother. I could be in a palace and it wouldn’t be enough. I’ll never be able to go northward again...”

“Of course you’re going to be said if you keep on thinking like that!”

I look over my shoulder to see Barbicane.

“You just have to find a different way to look at it,” he continues.

“Oh, goody,” Hatteras’ voice is deadpan. “I get a pep talk from the famous...”

He pauses to take a breath: “Impeeeeey Barbicaaaaaane.”

“Yeah, keep on making jokes,” says Barbicane. “I like smiles, even if they’re at my expense.”

Hatteras is not smiling.

“Try to think about it like this, Hattie-chan. When you’re up here and the sky gets dark, what do you see?”

“Stars,” says Hatteras, his voice bored and flat.

Barbicane’s smile is tight as he says, “The moon. You see the moon up there! And, when it’s night in London, what do you see?”

“More stars,” Hatteras replies.

“THE MOON! YOU ALSO SEE THE MOON IN LONDON!”

Hatteras ducks his head when Barbicane raises his voice, and the engineer takes a deep breath.

“It’s the same sky, Hattie-chan,” he says in a quieter voice. “You might feel like you’re separated, but you’ll always be connected to the Arctic- through that same sky!”

Hatteras looks at Barbicane, who’s beaming like sunshine.

Then, he stands up and hobbles towards us, looking small and weak.

Without a word, he closes the door.

“Daaah! No effect?!” Barbicane’s eyes glaze over. “I thought I sounded so motivational, too!”

I give Barbicane a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

-----

As soon as we enter the bridge, Nemo bounds over and gets up in Barbicane’s face.

“It’s not poliiiiiiiiiite to keep people waiting, you know!” Nemo wags a finger in his face.

“Sorry, sorry!” Barbicane holds up his hands in defense. “Polly-chan wanted to check in on Hattie-chan.”

Nemo sniffs. “So you decided to leave poor Nemo-chan by his lonesoooome...”

“D-Don’t call yourself that, it’s creepy!” Barbicane waves a hand.

“Hmph... if nobody eeeelse will call me that, then that leaves only myself!”

“Well, you have a fiancée. Maybe she could--”

Nemo gasps in horror. “No, nononooooo! Myyyyyy fiancéeeeeee should call me something like...”

He grins, looking in my direction, raising his voice’s pitch. “My most genius and spectacular darliiiiiiing!”

Barbicane and I stare at him.

Was that supposed to be an impression of me...?

Barbicane suddenly looks very tired as he pushes past the giggling scientist. “Come on. Let’s finish this up and head home, okay?”

I nod and begin to follow Barbicane when I feel a tugging at my sleeve.

I look over my shoulder at Nemo to see a smile so static that it could be plaster. It looks like it could crack at any minute, so I reach out to hesitantly touch the edge of his lips with my fingertip.

It’s the first time we’ve touched each other since Aleister.

Barbicane was frantic to get me to the ship as I bled, and Nemo was deliriously laughing, barely able to stand on his own feet.

Nemo isn’t laughing anymore, but... the way he’s holding himself together now is threadbare and could unravel at any moment.

“Something wrong?” he tilts his head, the sudden movement making me jump.

“No! Well, that’s not true. I suppose I’m just...” I shake my head We’re supposed to speak plainly to each other, so I do: “I’m worried about you. What happened back then was awful. I want to comfort you, but I don’t know how.”

Nemo tilts his head in the opposite direction, and his smile droops a little bit... not in a bad way, but in a way that makes it look more genuine.

“I’m aaaaalways up for a hug.”

I pull him into my arms, wrapping my hands around his waist and squeezing him tight.

He’s the same but, somehow, he feels fragile. Tired. Like all the pieces of himself that he had pasted back together over the years fell in a crumbled heap.

“What else can I do?” I ask.

“Hee hee... what else could you do?” I pull back and look up at him.

“This isn’t a laughing matter, Nemo.”

“I mean it,” he says. “What else COULD you do?”

My eyes widen as he takes one of my hands and places it on the top of his head. “You can’t get inside here to rip out the hippocampus and take the bad memories with it...”

He moves my hand lower, to his hip, and places it over one of his bombs. “You cooooould go after Aleister, but... I wouldn’t let you. I don’t need you doing that for me.”

He moves my hand back up to his chest, letting it rest over the pretty ship’s wheel that decorates his heart. “What you COULD do is what you ARE doing, Pauline. You’re... here.”

“Here...” I trace the outline of the wheel. “Is that really all I can do?”

Nemo smile turns rueful.

“There is one more thing,” he says. “Just... remember this. Memories, history, whatever you want to call it-- I’ve had it way waaaaay before Aleister, before I met you, before I even met Isaac-senseeeei... s-sometimes, it just...”

He looks like he’s trying to put it into words.

“Sometimes, things make you remember. And, when you remember, you miiiiight lose a bit of a grip on yourself. But, as poooowerful as those emotions are, they don’t change who you are. You just might need a bit of something like lavender oil, hmmmm?”

I feel my cheeks flush, and he pats me on the head.

“You can’t make it go away, Polly-chan. You won’t ever be able to do that. Sooooo...” he flashes me a golden smile. “Stop woooorrying about it and focus on things like love! And science, of course! With meeeeeee!!”

I look away, but can’t stop myself from laughing when he pinches one of my cheeks affectionately.

“You know, you’re being awfully coherent after going through all that,” I say.

Nemo giggles and pinches my other cheek, squishing my lips together so I look like a fish.

“Thaaaaaaaaaank you, really, it’s the traumaaaaa! Oh!” Nemo suddenly stands straight, which is a bigger deal than it sounds. It reminds me of just how tall he is, almost as tall as Impey. “That reminds me!”

“W-What reminds you? The trauma?” my eyes widen.

“Huuuuuhh? No, nononono! This is a good thing!” his goggles glint as a wide smile crosses his face. “Once we lift off, I have something to show you!”

“But—” he cuts off my protest with a kiss, holding my shoulders to stop me from pulling back. He isn’t taking any protest or pleading or even any noise except the hum of my surprise turning into contentment.

Both of us are gulping in mouthfuls of air when he releases me.

“IIIII looooove yoooou!” he manages to get out between breaths. “Let’s go light up this place!”

-----

“Hey, engine room, time for the final check!” Barbicane looks towards one of the speakers on the wall of the bridge with a smile.

“We’re good, chief!” Smith’s confident voice rings out.

“Excellent! Ned-chan, how’s the base?”

“100% empty! We turned that place inside-out, there’s nobody left!”

“Yahoo! Glad to hear it! Cardia-chan, how are the evacuee ships looking?”

“The ships have reached the safety border that we determined during planning,” says Cardia. “They won’t be affected by the blast.”

“Perfect, my angel!” Barbicane beams. “Okay, time for the final final check! Nemo, how are the explosives?”

“Ehehe… hehehe… heheheheaaAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Nemo’s laughter rings loudly across the bridge, and Barbicane sighs.

“Nemo, I need a ‘yes’, my guy.”

“Yes! Ready! Perfect! True, true art just ready to blossoooom--!”

“Good enough!” Barbicane takes his place at the ship’s wheel. “Preparations are ready! Let’s set a course for London-! Santa Claus, this is for you! ENGINES, START--!”

“Santa Claus...?” my confusion is interrupted as the airship shifts and begins to rise.

A thought crosses my mind as I feel the steel beneath my feet separate from the safety of the surface below it.

That thought is: Why did I think being on the bridge would be a good idea?!

The metal hangar slowly recedes to never-ending blue, and my stomach drops with it.

My legs are shaking, I can’t move. I suddenly feel weak.

“Don’t lock your knees~!” A hand grips my waist, keeping me up when I feel myself slipping.

I look up and over to see Nemo, grinning... almost heroically. Then, to my surprise, he pushes his goggles up onto his forehead and gives me a wink.

“Locking your knees cuts off blood circulation, daaaarling! You really will faint if you keep it up!”

A little dazed by both vertigo and his beauty, all I can do is lean into the crook of his arm and accept his support. “Th... thank you.”

As wispy clouds come into view, I nervously wrap my fingers into Nemo’s sweater.

“I really thought I would’ve been over this by now,” I sigh.

Nemo runs his fingers up my side and threads them through my hair before giving me a kiss on the temple. “Patieeeeence...”

“Oy, Nemo, don’t at least 75% of your problems come from the fact that you’re too impatient to wait for proper results?” Barbicane calls over his shoulder.

“It’s called character development, Impeeeey Barbicaaaane!”

“Hey! The height doo-hickey is saying that we’re up high enough to set the bomb off!” Ned’s voice calls out.

Nemo gives a moment of silence for the word ‘altitude’ before looking at the switch in his free hand.

“Don’t look at me,” I say, shaking my head. “One explosion is enough for me.”

“Ohhh no, this one is aaaaall mine!” Nemo says with a giggle.

We’re so high now that we can clearly see the remains of Northernmost Base.

“This last blast will be the most spectacular! It will wipe this place compleeeetely clean and sink the base to the bottom of the sea!”

“ ... In a single day and night of misfortune... the island of Atlantis... disappeared in the depths of the sea,” I murmur Plato’s words.

Nemo looks at me out of the corner of his eyes before shaking his head with a laugh and flicking his goggles back down over his eyes.

Then, he quickly dips me and plants a kiss on my lips before pulling me back up and spinning me away towards the window.

I suck in my breath at suddenly having my vision filled with the far-off ground. In the next moment, Nemo’s cackle punctuates a beautiful ball of fire rising from the communications tower below us. Then, like a lit Christmas wreath, smaller fireballs light up around the perimeter.

Fountains of water begin to erupt from beneath the ice, and I cover my mouth as I watch the entire base, already ravaged by explosions, pitch and buckle.

Nemo wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder, humming contentedly as the ice carrying Northernmost Base tilts and breaks. The remaining buildings slide downward and crash, one by one into the sea.

By the time our airship begins to turn away, all that remains of Northernmost Base are a few shadows beneath the water.

-----

“Close your eyes!”

“Nemo, we’re really high in the air, I just saw a huge explosion, and an entire base got swallowed by the ocean. I’m a little jumpy, so I’d rather keep my eyes open.”

“Mmmm... noted!”

Nemo plucks my glasses off of my nose and quickly replaces them with his goggles.

“Blurry will have to suffice, then!” he giggles and takes me by the shoulders, leading me down the halls of the ship. I really can’t see much like this, just steel and blue.

Come to think of it, maybe I should have closed my eyes. Too late now, it’s the principle of the matter!

My head is beginning to throb from the difference in his lenses when he finally stops in front of one of the storage doors.

“In here!” he opens the door and gestures for me to enter. When I don’t move fast enough, he shoves me inside.

I pull his goggles off and rub my eyes, letting them adjust to the dim light.

I still can’t see as well, but that shape in front of me is so distinct...

“Nemo, is that...?”

He steps in front of me and puts my glasses back on before looking back over his shoulder.

“Yeah. I thought you might miss it.”

I don’t know how he did it, but looming in front of me is the narwhal skeleton that I was so fascinated with back at Northernmost Base.

I hesitantly reach out to touch the pedestal it rests on before looking back at Nemo. “How did you...? When? I... I can’t believe it...!”

I stare up at it, as perfect here as it was before.

“Weeeell... you never did get to see your narwhals at the North Pole, so...” Nemo idly kicks one of his feet, trying to look bashful. The grin stretched across his face gives him away.

That impish grin, the way he’s looking at me expectantly, Nemo really is a miracle of a scientist.

“Nemo!!” I throw my arms around his neck, burying my head into his shoulder. “I love you...!!!”

Nemo giggles as he braces himself against the might of my hug. “Thought you might enjoy it.”

“Nemo... we’re finally returning home,” I say. “I don’t know where we’ll fit this, but I know we’ll find a way!”

“Home, huh...” Nemo sighs, his grin turning into a gentler smile. “Do you really think it will work out so cleanly? Victoria, after all...”

My stomach turns, but the memory of the Count of Saint Germain’s charismatic smile gives me some comfort.

“Don’t worry about Victoria,” I shake my head. “We’re returning Impey and Cardia back to London. She won’t stand a chance.”

Nemo cups my cheek in his hand, looking at me evenly.

“So optimiiiistic...” he whispers. “And what if you’re wrong? What if we have to do this aaaall over again?”

I put my hand over his.

“Then we’ll just have to go on another adventure, won’t we? I bet Lincoln Island is lovely this time of year.”

Nemo looks from me over to the narwhal, his lips drooping in contemplation.

“What is it?” I ask, following his line of vision.

“Hmmm... I was just wondering if I should cover that thing’s eyes before I kiss you.”

“How fanciful of you!” I say with a laugh.

“Says the one quoting Atlantis,” he snorts.

But he looks so gentle and happy as he looks back at me, and my entire body relaxes when he kisses me.

[ndanya-qiri-ffxiv]

The Dusk Shaman

( Please ignore weirdness of tenses... I have a bad habit of, well, not editing. )

The only sounds were the the crunch of boots through snow as Khuja made her way to the trial ground, accompanied by the three Elders of the Clans and her mother, Ohzu. They were dressed in their warm, heavy furs. The Elders carried their staves, and Khuja her spellbook, but otherwise they traveled light. It was neither a long journey nor a difficult one and already, she could see the cave on the horizon.

The winds of Coerthas were blessedly still this evening, and the sky was clear, allowing the full moon and myriad stars to shine down on them without filter. It gave her comfort. It allowed her to focus. As the cave loomed ever closer, Khuja steeled herself ever more.

“We are here,” said Basuh, elder of the Jinjahl clan, as they reached the cave entrance. She was the oldest of the Elders, but moved with all the grace and confidence of someone younger.  She steps into the snow-free entrance to the cave, followed by Pako of the Molkot and Soje of the Moshantu. Ohzu moved to the side, watching the proceedings with a critical eye.

The elders faced Khuja, who remained outside the safety of the cave, standing tall and proud in the snow. Basuh was the first to speak, with distinct authority, “Khuja, you are First Daughter of the Moshantu clan, daughter of the Matriach Ohzu. Tonight, you seek the title of Dusk Shaman. Are the words I speak true?”

“Venerable Elders, the words you speak are true,” Khuja returned, placing her hand over her heart and bowing her head to them.

“The Dusk Shaman is a master of all elements. Fire. Earth. Wind. Water. Void. She is capable of destruction and healing, control and chaos. If you are found unworthy, you will not be allowed another chance and will be disinherited. Is there ought else you would do before attempting these trials?”

“Venerable Elders, there is not else I would ought to do. I am prepared,” Khuja said, glad to hear herself sound firm and confident. She didn’t feel it.

“We shall begin,” Basuh stated before she turned on her heel and made her way further into the cave. Torches lit the way, and Khuja followed along. They did not descend far before entering a large, open space within the cave itself. Inside there were four stations set up, each with a different trial set.

Basuh was again the elder to speak, “You will begin at the left, and work right. You are to dissipate the block ice with fire, from the inside out. You are to raise a stone pillar measuring six fulms in height. You are to overturn the table with wind. Lastly, you are to douse the bonfire, though leave the coals burning hot. Have you any questions?”

Basuh had motioned to each station in turn as she spoke. The block of ice was easily as tall as Khuja, and was wide as she was tall as well. The circle to work with the earth was small. The desk was solid, ancient hardwood, and the bonfire was tall and raging. The young Keeper shook her head, “No, Venerable Elder. I have no questions.”

“Then you are to begin,” Basuh murmured, before moving off to the side with the other Elders and Ohzu. A deafening silence falls over the cave now, broken only by the crackling of the bonfire. Khuja approached the block of ice first.

She did not hesitate to begin to work. She half-closed her eyes and then reached out with her aether, tendrils invisible to all but her. She picked at the surface until she found an imperfection. Her aether wiggled into the imperfection and then sought another. Over and over she repeated the process, until her aether was pooled as close to the center as she could manage.In the next moment, a handful of the tattooed runes and symbols began to glow as she activated the spell. Fire erupted in the middle of the block of ice, and soon it was nothing more than a puddle.

“Pass,” called Soje.

Khuja did not pause to celebrate. She stepped up to the circle of dirt that served as her second challenge. Once more she reached out with her aether, pooled it in the dirt and rock there. She lowered herself down to a kneeling position and held the position. A few moments of silence - and then another set of tattoos and runes begin to glow. She gritted her teeth and then rose to her feet sharply, lifted her hands from the ground to above her head.

The earth followed, and soon a pillar of earth and stone stood before her, well taller than her. Certainly more than six fulms.

“Pass,” called Pako.

Khuja stepped to the next task and tried to keep her hands from shaking. She was not nervous or tired, but she was growing anxious. She took a deep breath to calm herself and then reached out with her aether once more. She gathered the latent wind aether from around her and drew it into a bundle before her. Carefully she then knelt down, before thrusting both hands forward to ‘throw’ the ball of wind forward, which she guided to the ground and base of the desk. It caught the heavy wood and Khuja then lifted it, with a grunt as the heavy wood resisted. It took an extra tick or two but soon enough, the desk had been flipped up onto its side.

“Pass,” called Basuh.

Khuja continued now to the bonfire. Extinguish the flames, but not the embers. She eyed the fire a moment before she reached out once more with her aether. This time, she drew water aether from the snow outside. The then carefully began to weave it among the fire, slow and steady, avoiding the flaring fire as best she could. Soon enough she had a dancing latticework of water aether ready to be called upon. She threw her hands out to her sides and it came into being near the base of the fire. The flames died at the base and then disappeared into the air, leaving only red hot coals around the charred wood.

“Pass,” called Ohzu.

“You have passed the trials of four of the elements,” Basuh said from her position to the side, “Now you must prove your mastery over the fifth. You are to summon a voidsent, a simple voidoriga, and bind it to you. Prove your mastery over it. Then, banish it. Should you falter, the beast shall be slane, and you shall be deemed a failure. Do you understand?”

Khuja had, by now, turned to face the Elders. She nodded her head once, “I understand, Venerable Elder.”

“Then begin.”

Khuja bowed to them and then snapped her spellbook off her belt. She flipped it open to a familiar page and withdrew chalk from her belt. She knelt down and drew a handful of symbols with the confidence of someone who had been doing this for years. Showing confidence was key. With the symbols drawn, Khuja returned to her faet and pocketed the chalk, snapped the book back to her belt.

Once more did her runes and tattoos begin to glow, this time bright enough that even beneath her furs they could be seen. A moment later and there was a rumble like thunder in the cave above her symbols before a tear in the fabric of their reality appeared. She opened it further, watching carefully for her quarry.

It did not take long to appear. A voidoriga - scaly, deformed, vicious, and winged - burst from the tear, attempted to fly for freedom. Khuja clapped her hands together, which shut the gateway down behind it and simultaneously launched aetheric chains from the symbols on the ground up to the beast. They snapped around wrists and ankles and throat, and now the Keeper made eye contact with the snarling and flailing beast. “You will submit to my will and serve me for a time,” Khuja said, voice firm in tone but slightly shaky from the effort to hold the creature, “I will strike a bargain. A small portion of my aether for a small portion of your time. Then, you shall be banished whence you came.”

The voidoriga shrieked and thrashed and ignored her. Khuja set her feet and snarled as she fought to hold it. She held her hands out, strengthened the bonds, “I… said,” she then yanked her hands back and down, pulling the aetheric chains - and the creature - with the motion, “Submit!”

The voidoriga hit the ground with a dull thud and a now-pained shriek. It started to struggle again but Khuja only yanked on the chains harder. Eventually, the creature stilled and glared at her. Silence once more fell across the cave.

“We have an accord, then?” She asked firmly. The beast let out a low growl but nodded once. She was never sure how smart these creatures were, but they always had a dangerous sort of cleverness hidden in their eyes. “Then your bindings will be removed, and you are to stay put.”

Khuja eyed the creature for another second or two and then stood up, snapped her fingers, and the chains disappeared. Her heart skipped a beat when the voidoriga stood, and she saw the Elders and her mother get ready to kill the creature… but it didn’t flee. It stayed put and stared at her with those beady eyes, awaiting a command.

The Keeper let out a quiet sigh of relief. She portioned off a small portion of her aether - knowing it would regenerate in time - and then floated it over to the creature. Greedily, it launched itself at it. “Now, begone.”

She clapped her hands together and the runes on the ground glowed brightly. With a surprised shriek of pain, the creature burst into flames and then was gone, back where it had come from. Khuja then stood tall and still, hands clasped behind her back. There was some discussion among the elders before Basuh stepped forward, looking stern.

“Khuja, First Daughter of the Moshantu clan, daughter of the Matriach Ohzu, it is with great honor that we bestow upon you the title of Dusk Shaman. You shall serve the Clans with honor, and long may you do so.”

It is all that Khuja can do to express her excitement and glee. She must concentrate on the honorific ways. A hand was placed over her heart and she bowed to the gathered elders and her mother.

“Venerable Elders, I thank you, and accept the title of Dusk Shaman. I shall serve the Clans with honor for as long as I may live.”

Each Elder approached her in turn after that, took her hands in their own. They murmured soft words on encouragement or gave minor blessings of their own, often unique to their Clan. All the while, her mother hung back and waited, her hands folded behind her back and her brow furrowed slightly.

Soon enough, mother and daughter were alone, and the cave was silent save for the sounds of distant water dripping from the ceiling of the cave to the floor. Khuja can’t keep a straight fact any longer and erupted into a fit of excited giggles.

“I did it, mother!”

“You did,” came Ohzu’s reply, though it was far more tempered, nearly devoid of her daughter’s excitement. Khuja’s smiling faltered, and then disappeared as her mother continued talking, “Nearly five winters older than your elder sister. Twenty-one winters old you are, and - “

“Miah is gone, mother,” Khuja said sharply, feeling old pain rising to the surface, “She has been gone for -”

“Do not lecture me, child, I know. I also know what consumed her. She was a prodigy, but too bold, too careless. You will not make those mistakes. I will not allow it.”

“O - of course I will not make those mistakes. I suffered in her passing as well. I would never repeat what she had done. I am more -”

Ohzu held up a hand to silence her daughter, and then clasped it once more behind her back. Her tail swayed slowly behind her, “You will not make the same mistakes, because I will not allow it,” she repeated, with careful and controlled emphasis on her final words, “You will partake in the celebrations and the feasts, and in a sennight you will leave. You will travel the lands, mediating and strengthening your control over the elements. You will not return until you have mastered them utterly.”

Khuja’s jaw slackened as her mother continued to talk. Her ears pinned back and she couldn’t help but stomp her foot and lash her tail, “That is unfair! You did not require it of Miah. I have never heard of this required of any that would call themselves a Dusk Shaman, and -”

“Those who have failed in the past have not been my daughter,” Ohzu snapped, her voice quiet and cold. “This is not negotiable. You will do as I say. Alternatively, you may return the mantle you have been bestowed -”

“No,” Khuja retorted, with a shake of her head that sent her braids bouncing, “No, I will not relinquish this mantle. I will go on your journey. I will do as you say. I miss her too, mother, but this will neither bring her back nor honor her memory nor prepare me better than I already am.”

A heavy silence fell between them as neither wished to budge on the issue. “It will make me feel better, and I have no doubt you will return stronger for it. Go. Meditate. Grow.”

Ohzu approached her now, leather scuffing on the rock floor as loud as thunder in the otherwise silent cave. She reached up and took Khuja’s face in her hands before she leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, “I am immensely proud of you, as I was her. I did not protect her enough, and now I shall protect you overmuch. Come, the feast is to begin soon.”

With that, Ohzu stepped beyond her daughter and continued to the mouth of the cave. Khuja hesitated a moment longer, lingered in the space where her victory occurred, and then turned to follow.

[inviouswriting]

Benvenuto all'inferno - Darkwardens AU

Going off of @maiden-born-in-snow ‘s oneshot she did where Thancred slays Shuri.

Some warnings - Death. There is death. Of a favorite, mentions of Divinity’s past, Kivera’s, and Shuri’s death following her oneshot she did. I know Thancred might be ooc. This is an AU. No smut in here.

But here we are.

Title is “Welcome to Hell.”

“We can’t feel mama anymore.” Divinity’s demeanor changes immensely, she knew it, she felt it. She is as linked to Shuri as Kivera was. All she could do was collect the children as they went to her to grieve. The moments that follow the death felt, were a calm before a storm. That storm that was about to hit, was Kivera. Divinity knows she felt her death, and from the eerie calmness she felt through her link. The only thing she could hope for, was a swift merciful death upon Shuri’s murderer.

However, she knows her leader won’t be that forgiving to grant such a thing.

Divinity felt two approach her, and she didn’t need to turn her head at the hoof falls of Chiron. Or the timid steps that belonged to Parn.

“We should take them into Paradise. They’ll be safer through the gates, they won’t have to feel or see a world burn from Purgatory.” Chiron says to Divinity who nods, she had forfeited her sight to resume her own role as a star spirit. She knew better, not with what she feels, that intense sadness that returned through the link she shares with Kivera. They had a bit of time before her heart is thrown into chaos.

Parn helps guide the group from the Sanctuary into Paradise. He was a small boy, well pass four hundred years but retained a small body per his death and role as Capricorn’s spirit. He had a deep connection to Kivera before she passed on her name to Kiya. He was the second being to show the reaper kindness following her death and guided her to Chiron after she stumbled onto the very shores of Purgatory.

Parn could tell Kivera is restraining her emotions, her domain linked with her power. She was holding off till Shuri’s children were secure and safe. The last thing the angel wanted was to scare them worse than losing their mother. She needed to be a face they could still trust after what she was about to do. What she will do.

Kivera in question had fallen to her knees just outside of the Malikah’s Well. She had just left to go in search of aether for Anubis, she had only hunted powerful A and S rank monsters that provided enough for her. Finding they sustained her in the same manner that Kivera sought another’s essence. To her it was no different than if she devoured a soul, it was nature to her. That is where she and the Scion’s differentiated on morals. They want to protect the all from an unseen danger they don’t know. She on the other hand was protecting that very soul from giving into that nature that separated Shuri from becoming a full monster.

Yet here Kivera is, doubled over on her hands and knees, her soul ached in the same fashion she felt when she had lost Damien. Only this time, she can’t bargain to reverse time for Shuri. And she knew the consequences for that action.

Yet she knew Shuri was not meant to die by this fate. Her fate was something else, yet someone deemed it fit to murder her.

Kivera searches the air itself for something, the last thoughts, moments from Shuri. What she senses ends off her tongue.

“Thancred..” Kivera recalls the last hour to herself, using her own abilities to be able to seek to understand what happened. Before she made her choice, before she committed to being The Scion’s end. 

Instead she found the resolve to end them entirely. Devastate them enough to never step into her affairs ever again.

There was no justified reason to the death. Not one Kivera could find. The hand that pulled the trigger, was one of fear, the “what if.”

She waited.. just a little longer. She could sense those in her realm, her home, where she was getting ready to transport Shuri to, to keep her within Purgatory, to keep her safe, and able to see her children as a chance to stirr Shuri within. To break from Anubis, and maybe find a way to shake the unending darkness off her. The very light that she never wanted to see without parents. What any mother strives to protect is her children.

Kivera feels Divinity give her a ping, only to shut her out. The Libra spirit knew what she was about to do. She was in the state where she could destroy the realm. She didn’t want to let Shuri’s children feel her anger or dwell on the sorrow yet.

Once Kivera was certain that Shuri’s children, all souls and her zodiac spirits were out of her sanctuary. Was when she allowed herself to howl in pain. A scream that reaches the very ends of The First, a scream of pure anguish and agony as the sky falls to darkness itself. 

Thancred took time to look over Shuri’s fallen form, still stained black, but after her death she had regained her former self. Pristine white, looking like she had never been touched from the start. Only lifeless and blood pooled underneath.

“I’m sorry Shuri, this was the only way. We had just saved this world, only to have another threaten it. Right when we’re about to go home. We could never leave if we knew there was another fight waiting.” Thancred tried reasoning more with himself, to make what he did sound right.

It was in this moment he heard the scream, he ducks down on himself as it shakes the well, shakes the entire domain itself. 

“What... in the seven hells.” Thancred doesn’t finish that thought, instead he feels searing heat engulf him and throw him across the bottom of the well. He regains himself fast and pats out dark green flames that leech on him and he feels his very soul burning from their touch. 

When he regained himself he saw Kivera standing over Shuri’s form. Her attention fully on her fallen lover. Thancred notes there is a calm about the reaper. One he had noticed before when he first approached Holminster where she had previously hid Shuri before relocating her to Malikah’s Well, further away from the possibility of encountering humans.

Kivera kneels down to check over Shuri, as if seeing if there was a glimmer of life left in her. She knew there wasn’t, her soul had returned to the aether, she felt the cord sever from herself, and everyone she was soulbonded to.

“If you are at Acheron, please wait there for me. I will collect you for Paradise myself.” Her voice solemn and full of emotion. She refused to allow her to be buried in a world where her body would rot. Kivera under a gesture she could do to preserve her. She lets the pricks of permafrost ebb off her hands and encases her body in an ice crystal. She further sends this to her Sanctuary. To tend to her and let her children and Estinien say a proper farewell for The Source, just to the vessel, her soul she would find.

Kivera stands, only then did she even acknowledge Thancred. A pair of bright red eyes, different than their cat-like appearance, the whites of her eyes had stained black and she seemed to stand there waiting for something. Kivera was far too calm for someone who lost someone dear to her. He does note that there is fire that seems to swirl around her. Her energy giving off her rage. She wanted nothing more than to destroy the star they were on. She didn’t but it didn’t mean she would let the man or his band of scion’s continue their paths.

Thancred finally finds his resolve, getting up to his feet using his gunblade to steady himself.

“It had to be done. She could not go on living like that. You saw her for yourself. She was too far gone, her very aether was corrupted.” He uprights himself just as Kivera turns enough, he had her attention. She wanted to hear his excuse. Try to reason with what she truly knows.

“I am listening. Let’s hear you make light of murder.” She leans back folding her arms, yet at her feet the ground is scorched being eaten away.

“That was not Shuri.. I felt it, that she did not want to continue like that. She accepted it.”

“Interesting coming from the likes of you. A soul who has cheated and is cheating death once again. You guys spent months and years in this world trying to figure out how to change a calamity. To try and find a way back to your bodies.. yet you couldn’t give Shuri more time. For fear? Fear of her undoing all of you and yours precious heroism.” Kivera reaches out into the air and grasps something. This something attached to Thancred, she twists what she sees and brings him to his knees.

“You know as much as I do. There was no reason to kill her. She was not hurting anyone, she had enough process in herself to not go into the towns and hunt townsfolk. She knew she couldn’t. Even when she had ran out on her own for aether. She attacked an S mark instead of people. Thancred. She was still there! Yet for your own reasons you decided to kill her. Tell me, was this the action of the scion’s as a whole? or yourself?” Kivera’s tugging on the cord in her hand, she sends a stream of fire through it and into his chest. Connecting her to him, with Thancred understanding her being more clearly. 

Kivera peers into his soul and shows all his deeds before him. From the time when he was the cause of Minfilia’s parents, the time he had met Shuri for the first time, to her heartbreak realizing he was a player. The trickery he had shown, the time he was taken over by Lahabrea. Everything Kivera wanted to know she looked for it. It was like a picture book being flipped before her eyes. To the most recent of time where the truth of his kill on Shuri was out of fear, and on his own. Not the scion’s doing. They were not as stupid as he was. They knew the powerful being that Shuri had at her side.

They could sense her power, they would have kept her as an ally and let her take Shuri to her domain if it meant keeping all realms secure without a needless death. If anyone could have found a reason to reverse it would have been Kivera in her knowledge in her home world without the risk of Shuri being killed on her mind.

So here she was looking for any sort of justified reason that Thancred could have had. Yet she knew the truth of it. There was no reason other than the “what if” factor. What if she had lost her humanity, what if the public saw her, what if.

Those were the very factors that angered her more than Shuri’s death itself. Done on someone’s fears. She has seen deaths like that, the one that claimed Divinity’s life in the Salem trials. She had sat with Divinity on her stake pyre till she took her last breath and was the Libra spirit’s last sight before she asked to be allowed to see again.

“I’ll ask once more. Was this you, or your scion’s order. Your answer is highly important regarding their lives. I want to hear it straight from you so that I can present it to them after I’ve tossed them your head. If this was their order. I will hunt each and every single one of them down. There will not be a “scion’s”  by the time I am done. That whatever little agenda you all have going, ends.” Kivera tugs the cord for an answer.

“Mine! It was only mine..” There was no use lying to her when she could see the answer for herself. He barely understood her being, and that was done on purpose.

“You had no right to claim her life. Your scion members would have said to focus on the empire, your next bigger threat than worrying over Shuri when she posed you no threat. She could have broke out at anytime and lain waste to so much here. Yet she didn’t. Nor do you care to know, all you wanted was to prove some self righteous reason that it had to be “you” to put her out of her misery.” Kivera shared the feeling Shuri had, her true desire was that of anyone who had gone months without seeing their loved ones. Loneliness, self fear of whether or not she would come out of it or lose herself further.

“She did not want to die, she had lamented to me. She wanted to go home, she wanted to see her children, Estinien, her family. I was trying to make that possible. I had made it clear to you what would happen if you came for her. That I would erase your entire existence. Now I rethink that. I think the world should know what sort of faith they’re putting into you and your kind. That you would hunt and kill someone innocent who never once stained their hands in blood except under your commands.” Thancred knew her right, hell she is death. Of course she was right. He knew she did not pose threat to them as of now, if there was something they could have sent the next warrior of light, but he had seen the aftermath of the former warriors sent. Each of them had been dropped at his feet by the angel that stands before him now. She had been generous to return each of his failures for him to bury. She did not kill all of them, some she returned broken or the ones she made see her reason left with scorning Thancred’s ideas.

Thancred is without words, and he found the ground at Kivera’s feet, where he could focus instead of her face. He couldn’t focus on her eyes, their inhuman appearance unnerved him. Yet it seemed she was waiting for him to look away from her. 

The tension in the air shifts, and he sees her sweep a foot in a circle as if making a rune. When she places the sole of her foot on top of it the ground after that softens where he is, he felt himself sinking. He had seconds to react, the grace period was over. He forgot that she is an opportunist fighter. Him bowing her head away from her eyes enabled her to take an advantage. His unsteady on his feet was not what he needed to focus on. It was the blade swinging towards his neck.

Thancred had seconds to block it with his own, to be knocked back. Kivera is fast on her feet, he knows her to be fast. Estinien has shared stories of their sparring. She has only been beaten because she allowed him to win. Here he sees her round and aim again with the blunt end of her weapon towards his side. She connects with his arm and that was enough for her to engulf him in a burst of flames dark black and purple flames. 

He felt his very soul on fire as they race through his being scorching almost as if taking root within his very core. He would question her about it, but not with those eyes calculating his next move if he would falter down or try to launch his own attack. This was going to be a fight he knew he couldn’t win. Unless she felt merciful.

The flames around him seemed to leech his very life, like she was removing something. He readies his blade to fire at her, it then clicks at what she was doing when the power to use it fades. The aether within the gun was stolen out. All that the gun had now were useless bullets. Not like using them would have had an effect on a spirit.

Kivera kicks a foot to the ground, the ground underneath him cracks and he recoils jumping away from her. Moving hurt, his soul was in pain from her flames. He wondered if this is what each warrior felt before they were killed. Like all the weight of what they were doing was forced on their shoulders and burned them within and out.

“This must be why you sent all those warriors to me. You are no fun if you are succumbing so soon just to my miasma and hell flame.” Hellfire.  Thancred looks up.

His looking up was what she wanted, as he looks up she sends a fire bolt his way. He blocks it with his blade letting the embers scatter around him. Those embers engulf and spark off like hundreds of a little explosions. He begins to move running around to try and get an advantage or at least breathing room. Every part of him felt as if it was heavy. Like heavy had been casted on him. 

Kivera was hot on his heels intending to not let him gain a chance, they both exchange blows of their weapons. Kivera seeming to dance around his attacks, on his attacks. He threw off the gunblade after it seemed useless for the rogue knives he kept in back, as a last resort. He could still fight this way.

He felt a wave of cold as she shifts her elements, at his feet he slips on ice she engulfs the floor with. He remembers Shiva to stay still, yet the jump attack Kivera does sends him sliding backwards to a wall. He regains himself enough only to have the crescent of the blade slam towards his head at his neck. She was aiming to kill him, the fastest was beheading. He ducks under the blade by sheer luck looking at how deep she embeds it within the wall. Had he still been there he doesn’t escape the blade without a deep graze on his forehead. 

Kivera raises a foot back and kicks it towards him. He catches her foot with one of his daggers. There a burst of flames off her foot rains down on him. She pulls her scythe free, and turns it to slam it again, point towards the top of his head. Thancred rolls to the right to avoid it, feeling the ground cleave next to him where she strikes it. How her blade doesn’t even chip, he notes her shoes seem to be made with the same material as her scythe.

Thancred regains himself, and dashes away from her, she gives chase, this was a losing fight, he had to get away from her. Kivera sees him running through the long hallway that leads to the bottom of the Well. She summons a “door” in front of him, and he foolishly takes it thinking it was a way out. When he passes through it, he is dropped to the ground in front of her. She was waiting for him and hits him with the blunt end of her weapon knocking him through another door she summoned. 

Thancred feels like he is falling, spinning even, this was her doing. The door she knocked him through wasn’t a door, it was a mirror for a different dimension. One she commands alot of respect in. The feeling of falling ends with another hit from the weapon she carries, and he lands across from her at a shore. The water was on fire, and he notes a deafening roar of screams.

Kivera lets him gather himself and his bearings to take in the burning land he was on. In here, the guise she used in his world ebbs off in ashes from her. She retains the dark complexion yet appears more at home, her wings black and white instead of just black. Almost a symbolism that there was still good in her. If she chose it. The scythe she has even takes on a different appearance. Like it has a life of its own. Antares, he remembered the name of it.

“I don’t think you would give me an answer of where we are, would you?” Thancred feels the air thick with ashes, he faintly is aware of a “rain” but did not want to know the source of it.

“I think you should guess that answer. You remember where I am from. To humor you, you are in Hell itself. I brought you here, body and soul. As for your essence in Eorzea or The First, among your friends, scions. They felt your death in the same manner we felt Shuri’s. They know you as dead.” Kivera rests her blade under her feet standing on it like she can’t touch the ground herself. Or refuses to touch the ground she herself had crawled on to get out of the plane of existence.

“But you didn’t kill me yet.” He sees her grin, and put a hand to her face. He noted how her eyes had returned green briefly. She peers at him through her fingers, her right eye red again while a grin spreads.

“You don’t even realize it yet. I don’t know whether to laugh, or leave you in suspense.” He stares at her confused, what didn’t he realize. What did he miss. What did she do that ended his life.

He thinks of all her attacks, he didn’t feel any of them that would have ended his life. Kivera keeps herself suspended waiting almost for his realization.

“Perhaps, I should show you.” She summons a mirror in front of him, and he looks on into it. It was when she had grabbed the very soul cord he had. When she was getting him to look at all the things he did, the things Shuri felt. There in her hand she had burned it off. The connection between his soul and body. 

“Oh! It seems to click now doesn’t it? Yet I like to remind you. You are already a spirit! The reason you are even able to see me. Is because you have been on death’s door the whole time. I just took you as payment for the others.” Thancred looks on in realized horror, she had been kicking him around as a spirit this whole time, the reason his weapon didn’t fire, the way her flames were alot hotter when she used hellfire. She was burning his very spirit, marking him as a hellbound spirit.

“You should have left Anubis alone. I warned you. Did I not? Yet, you escaped back to The First, when you should have left these matters to me. Thought I wouldn’t notice a spirit walking through The First again? After Kiya had painstakingly helped bring you back to The Source. Risking her life. You owed alot to my successor too. Who do you think kept bargaining your lives?” Kivera looks at her nails in a manner of being bored.

“You may have doomed both stars! I thought you weren’t suppose to intervene in fate.” This earns a glare from her.

“You know, eventually you all will die some day. Every single act you do, just extends the time. What will happen with Zenos? That lunatic Fandaniel, parading around in Asahi’s body? It was suppose to have happened already. Your deaths. You were suppose to have died to Black Rose. Remember? Yet that idiot cat interfered with what was already in motion.” Kivera was getting bored of the monologuing, she finally sets her feet on the ground, here it didn’t matter if she used her full power. It would give the gods and goddesses of the lands some entertainment. The real Hades would already be looking, the one being she answers to next to Thanatos or her guarding deity in Pluto.

“You would have been content with the death of an entire star?” She looks at him as if it was the first time he has seen a reaper.

“Do you not get what I am? You recall Amaurot? I was there. Maybe you need an explanation of one of my titles. I am a doomsday reaper. What do you think that entails? I end worlds. The death and destruction of a star is a day job to me. All to increase the subjects Hades wants.” Kivera even shows her spot after Therion had descended as the third Doom. Her overlooking the star as it burned from the edge of the thermosphere.

Thancred takes a leap towards her, and she steps around him, he seems to slow in his fall, while she kicks him rounding it so the sole of her foot hit his abdomen. Sending him back across the field she had brought them to. Close to the burning river. He had almost fallen in, the heat on the shore enough to make anyone scramble away from it. Yet every surface was burning with the same dark purple flames that she had engulfed him in.

“I should leave you here. To wander lost, to wallow in your days, wondering what you had done, when you knew the catalyst that started this sentence in Hell. I had warned you from the very beginning. That if you sought to end Shuri’s life. I would plunge you into Tartarus myself. Next to that unforgiving time god himself. I’m making good on that promise. We’re only in Hell after all. Tartarus... is a bit further down!” Kivera finishes her words with using her scythe to hit Thancred across the field towards a pit. Where she had been aiming him to, he catches himself on the lip with her standing over him. 

With her feet on the ground she uses one of her elemental abilities to soften the ground at his hands into sand, watching him slip into the pit further. She jumps in after him, and with his fall, she hits him again till he lands at another ledge. Thancred hits into something, and looks to it. He is met with a face, a giant, he alone  was barely the size of his nose. Yet this being was of titanic porportions. An eye is open as it looks at him.

“Kivera, what is this?” The being speaks. Thancred sees her stroll up to this being as if this was normal for her. 

“You should be glad. I brought you a friend. You two can be miserable together. Kronos.” Her tone is cheerful.

“What do you want.” He cuts to the chase, wanting to know the reason she is there. She only bothers him to bargain.

“Come now.. I come with innocent intentions. Besides... I know from the last time of bargaining a life. I won’t repeat that mistake. I genuinely brought you a friend for eternity.”

“I don’t want him. What use have I of him?” Kronos eyes him, and Thancred worries as Kivera talks of bargaining lives. To realize she was keeping her word, she would leave him here. With this titan.

“Where do you suggest then? I brought him all this way! Surely you can’t be mean in refusing my gift. I’ll tell Hades.” Kivera feels Thancred trying to inch away and swiftly pins him with her scythe embedded in the ground in front of him.

“Do not move.” Her only warning.

“Fine. I’ll keep him. Suspend him next to me then.” Kivera smiles and does as she is instructed. Placing Thancred in a orb to leave him with the time god. Leaving him at eye level to him. 

“Kivera, why not just end me entirely?” Thancred wonders why she is leaving him like this. Kivera shows the reasoning behind her leaving Thancred to Kronos to the god. That he had broken a taboo, in taking a life he wasn’t suppose to claim. For she had claimed Shuri’s soul when she had soul-bonded with her.

The time god howls in laughter at this.

“You are asking her now? Why she is leaving you to an eternity with me? You pissed her off! This is light compared to what she usually does! What’s the matter? Not liking my company already? Well, we ought to get use to each other. She did gift you to me. You took the life of someone she loved. Be glad she didn’t retaliate in killing someone you treasured. She knows what each person despises deep in their souls. What is more boring than being left in a pit with an old god like me. She thought your punishment through. Thancred is it, an eternity is excruciating slow here.” A fate worse than death, is spending endless time in nothingness. Not dying, not withering away to rot. But spending a true eternity in idleness. 

“Welcome to Tartarus.” Slow realization that the only face Thancred would be able to look at, is Kronos. Only him to talk to, and he is powerless here, except as the key component in all time in the universe. Thancred has nothing to offer the god, and Kronos wants nothing he could give him anyway. A perfect punishment for one who has cheated death, is a deathless death. The surface already knows his death, they would only grieve him. 

Kivera returns to the surface, to inform the Scion’s of her doing. She looks at each of them with a warning of hers.

“Do not ever meddle in my affairs again. Or I will throw each and every single one of you where he is.” Kivera shows them all the needless death, how she was working on trying to save Shuri from her affliction. That she was about to move her to her realm. That was Kivera’s plan, Anubis would have endless aether in Purgatory. While Kivera could actively look for something without Thancred’s warriors hunting her down or killing her. 

Kivera glares over towards G’raha Tia.

“It was you, that enabled him to cross worlds wasn’t it?” He shrinks back.

“He begged me to do it. To send him there.” He did not lie to her, he could not lie to someone who can see the truth. She would pull it out of him in the same manner she did Thancred.

“He’s an idiot. And you are one as well. All of you. Your deeds do nothing but annoy me. I wonder how you all will fall from here without him. I’ll be watching from the shadows.” Kivera leaves them not entertaining them longer with her own pain. She had a more important role to do, a soul that needed her was in Acheron.

She leaves The Source the same way she entered, through a mirror. A conduit between dimensions for her. After she passes through it, she shatters it. The group looks between each other, they truly wonder how to press forward without Thancred. Kivera showed them the truth of what he had done, they couldn’t be upset with her. They were upset that she didn’t seek them out. Yet they were enemies because of Thancred sending people out to eliminate Shuri as a threat. 

His own undoing because he feared Shuri would have eventually harmed Ryne, or any of the people they fought so hard to save. 

The shores of Acheron was always in a dense fog, Kivera looks among the many hooded figures. She focuses for a specific shine to a soul, one she knows, and the other ferrymen would know as one of her spirits she has marked. She finally sees her, and drops in front of her. 

Shuri almost bumps into her, the face that greets Kivera is one she is glad to see. Herself, pristine white, a look of fear in her mismatched eyes. Kivera takes the ladle she was given full of water and pours it out before she can drink the water of Lethe. If she had let her, she would truly be lost to her. Kivera knows the expression, anyone would in the underworld. Confused of where to go, who to follow, no direction other than waiting for the Charon or herself. 

“Let’s get you to Paradise. It’s where your family waits.” Kivera knows her soul is pure, she has seen it from the very start, she shined like Divinity, a reason the reaper was drawn to her. If there was ever a soul to take over as the spirit of Virgo, she would easily replace Beatrice with Shuri. She fell into the category of qualifying for one of the star spirits. Endless tragedy on a soul marked for destiny she didn’t want.

“I can’t wait to see them... it feels like ages since I have held them. Won’t they be confused? They felt me die..” Kivera presses her forehead to Shuri’s showing her bright gold eyes, relief flashing through her irises, brief in blue at the mention of her death, then softens down to a soft green.

“The older ones will be easier to explain than the younger. I think they’ll be more happy to see you, over wondering why they felt you gone. Estinien, I still have to track him down. I’ll let him know you are safe now in my domains.” Shuri is lead to a boat that Kivera has waiting for them to begin their travel. 

“Why are they not in your sanctuary?” Shuri asks as she is seated, Kivera uses her scythe as an oar to guide them. The first time Shuri has seen her do this, she notices how her reaper looks alot different, she remembers this form from the first time she took her to her home. This was the full angel of death, the one face she keeps hidden from all that lives.

“Divinity and Parn took them to Paradise where it was safer, so they didn’t feel my anger and pain. So I didn’t scare them. Children should never witness someone in pain the way I was.. I didn’t want them to feel that hatred I had. Or feel off of it. They’re in safe hands. The very realm I safeguard is of peace.” Shuri is still confused, yet Kivera is sure of herself. She is relieved they’re safe, even for Kivera being safe. She knows she wouldn’t fall in a fight with Thancred, but if he had recruited a white mage or Ryne. It would have been different. 

Shuri knows that she is not immortal. That scared her as much as her own death, that she could lose her permanently. 

Once they had crossed from the main section of the Underworld into the burning Sanctuary, Shuri understands why she had them moved. Her rage would have burned them, her sanctuary is linked with her emotions and power. If she loses herself, her world burns like her heart does. 

“All of the souls you housed here are in Paradise too?” She remembers all of the other child souls she lets roam her home.

“They are. I would never do anything that will scare them worse than when they died.” Kivera stops their travel to take care of her home. She quells her own anger and rage inside, while repairing the small place. Regeneration to the things that were within the domain, her books, scrolls, the ground, house, everything touched by her fire to restore. 

Like a phoenix to renew from the ashes. as if it was never burning a few minutes ago. 

Kivera looks back to Shuri, and helps her out of the boat, to guide her to the house in the center. Something she does with each soul she saves from the shores. 

Kivera lets her have time to recollect herself, have real food she hasn’t eaten in what felt like years as Anubis. Bathe and heal her spirit from what she had endured. Let her cry it out over being killed. Kivera let’s Shuri rest on her lap hand guided through her hair to comfort her.

“You’ve done this for alot of souls.” The words come out idle, the meek voice hoarse a little from the screams and cries she had let out. 

“Divinity. She died a similar way to you. Pursued, hunted down, killed for a “just” cause, because the people were afraid of her and her father Seth. Just because they feared the unknown. I don’t know if Divinity told you her story herself. I sat with her as she burned. She smiled the whole time, she resigned herself the same way you did to Thancred. Just.. accepted her death. I petted her head the same way here.” Kivera cards her fingers through her hair from forehead to a horn. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you... I’m sorry I failed your children... Estinien... Ardbert... I...” Kivera bows her head into the side of Shuri’s head and finally cries. Shuri feels her tears in her hair and on her face. Shuri places a hand to Kivera’s face and rubs gently.

“You protected me as much as you could. I am here now, you did so much to keep me safe. You protected our children, you protected me to the very end, stained your hands when you didn’t want to. You did everything you could.” Shuri turns her head to see the deep blue irises Kivera has, Kivera looking away in shame at her failure, till the auran girl grabs her by her hair and gives her a full kiss. 

Kivera feels a hand at the back of her head threading through her hair the same way she had been doing to Shuri’s. Comforting as she holds her giving them the time they need to compose themselves before they go to Paradise. To have her see their children.

For now, Kivera wanted to keep her to herself, just be a little selfish. Shuri allows her to be. Kivera is thankful she did not have a repeat of Damien, her losing all of her memories, being forced to watch her from afar as a pact. Being the one that houses all of what they knew. To mourn a second time.

The reaper knows not to keep her from her children long, she knows more than anything how much she wants to see them. So after gathering her back into the boat they arrived in. She continues their path on towards Paradise.

 Kivera ringing a bell to open its gate.