#Caranar Bairon

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 1

"You seek an audience with us, Dawnservant?"

"Come, Missus Spellgrave, there is no need for titles and decorum here." The Vow of Resolve chuckled, the sound reverberating with warmth in the large chamber. "Unless, your wish is that I call you 'Warrior of Light'?"

Eryna and Caranar faces both soured with a grimace, sending the Dawnservant into a greater fit of guffawing laughter.

"Trust me, I understand what it is like to be seen as your deeds first and your self last. You both may call me Gulool Ja Ja, I being the Vow of Resolve, and my brother the Vow of Reason."

"If you insist. I know I speak for my husband and I both when I ask that you think of us as little more than simple visitors to your beautiful home." At his wife's words, Caranar nodded along. "'Eryna and Caranar' will do just fine."

"I am glad the sights of Tuliyollal are to your liking. I take it Lamaty'i has already run you to every little corner of our city, fond of visitors as she is."

"Yeah, she was dragging us along on the tour before she'd even gotten over her seasickness," Caranar said, before quickly adding, "it was nice to have someone show us around, though."

"Yes, she bears a great love for her home and her people, but..." The Vow of Resolve trailed off. "I trust that, as 'simple visitors', I can speak with you in confidence regarding matters of the Rite? ...and, of the heart."

With confirmation from his guests, Gulool Ja Ja continued. "I do not wish to keep you from your cabin overlong, I know you long for rest and relaxation. The reason I summoned you this night was... to seek your counsel as fellow parents."

At the serious turn, Eryna and Caranar's attention sharpened.

"When I see how you care for your little one, despite the fact he is not of your blood, I cannot help but feel we share common values. My children... they each bear my deepest love, and the burden of this throne. But I fear the future of Tuliyollal is burdensome indeed."

Eryna tilted her head at an inquiring angle. Despite the dismissal of formalities, she wasn't sure if the question at her lips was overstepping a more personal boundary. "The nature of the Rite - do you not believe that your children are fit to follow in your footsteps?"

"No." replied the Dawnservant, with no sign of uncertainty. Long had the brothers debated this exact matter. "That a simple visitor as worldly as yourself has arrived at the same conclusion after a mere day should come as little surprise." A dull ache stirred within the Vow of Resolve at Eryna's speed of wit and sharp reasoning. He was right to confide in them.

"Each claimant harbors great strength, some unknowingly, but each of them are flawed all the same. I am glad that Koana and Wuk Lamat have found strong allies who will challenge and support them in equal measure, but I fear for the First Promise."

At his words, Eryna placed a hand over her heart. "I can see how it pains you to set your feelings aside for their sake. What advice would you ask of us?"

The Vow of Resolve took a small, steadying breath. "Beef is a rather stoic young man, of very few words, yes? This trait, he shares with Zoraal Ja. I feel him recede further into the distance along a path I would not see him walk, yet in the absence of words, I am unsure how to steer him true. Through what means do you find common ground; to know your son's heart?"

The two gave due consideration for their answers.

Caranar spoke first. "Well, it takes two people to have a conversation." He glanced at Eryna, who was watching him with a look of mixed affection and concern, a look of knowing. "With Beef, there's always a bit of guesswork. Sometimes he can't hide his feelings for the look on his face, or the actions he takes. By now, understanding him feels pretty natural - but that's only because he chooses to let us in. When he feels there's something we need to know and haven't picked up on, he'll speak."

Eryna felt an urge to give Caranar a reassuring touch, little more than a brush on the arm to let him know she could see him. How much he himself had let her in. "I'm afraid it may not be the solution you hoped for, but... if Zoraal Ja has built a wall between you, the most you can do is offer the same warmth as always, and hope that someday he'll choose to bring that wall down."

"Of course." Ignorance and understanding. A trail leading both ways. How could he forget? "In any case, I am reassured that we are of similar minds after all."

As the smile returned to the Vow of Resolve's face, the air in the chamber lifted like a misty morning in the dawn. "Enough somber words and worries - you've heard plenty about our little family by now. Please, share with me about your own!"

[carcharsaur]

1 and 5 for the ask meme :)

oooh these are juicy ones thank uuu

1. Where were they during the Calamity? 

caranar and kozu were both in the same place actually, right as things were coming to a head in carteneau caranar appeared in the middle of the night on kozu's doorstep in gridania bloodied and half-dead, years after he disappeared without a word. as soon as caranar was stabilized and sleeping in kozu's sickbeds, he was going to head to the front himself but as he moved to do so caranar threw a half-lucid fit choking out a desperate plea for him not to leave. and despite his instinct and initial deep desire to head to the front to do anything he could to help even after being delayed, kozu found himself reassigning his tasks as a hearer and member of the twin adders to instead stay by caranar's side as the moon fell. caranar clung to his hand the whole night.

next one under cut cause I think it'll get long..

5. Where are they from? What was their childhood like?

caranar was born into the bairon tribe of the nhaama desert, and it was rough but not extremely so. however after he gained the echo at around age 5, all his predictions were of calamities that came to befall his tribe. they blamed him as the source of it, with his mother shielding him as best she could. he foresaw her death, and with it he decided to never mention his visions again. he fled from the tribe soon after, fearing a hypothetical retribution. at 7-8ish he struggled his way out of the desert and onto the plains of the azim steppe. he was taken in by a few different groups, and grew to despise how the stronger clans of xaela threw their weight around to abuse or outright slaughter the smaller and disadvantaged ones. in his adolescence he started a group of non-tribe sworn bandits that specifically stole from the strongest tribes and gave to those in need to try and even the score, going so far as to herd livestock across the steppe to avoid retribution from their targets. it collapsed around him though when the empire briefly invaded the steppe, and he left as a martyr hoping to give a pointless chase to those who wanted him captured. hero to some, pariah to others. kozu was born in golmore, and I have a lot of lore about their childhood but... they themselves don't remember most of it anymore. the big thing is they secretly traded spots with their twin sibling, who begged to not be taken in as a warder. their training as a warder was tough, but his mentor warden died before his training had officially completed. he never left the territory he watched over in fear he'd never be recognized as a true and proper warder, as a true viera, despite the green word connecting and guiding them still. his fear froze him, he didn't want to risk facing anyone and having the multiple scary truths come to light, and in the process a lot of his self faded away over time. he can't even remember his forest name by the time he left.

[manasong]

[popola-sil-pola]

I finally unlocked Shirogane to visit @bluebairon ‘s, @ heroofshadow ‘s & @steak-n-popotoes ‘ lovely home! I was rather sleepy and didn’t really get any proper shots, but this was basically the entire evening there.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 8 (Free Prompt)

"How is the sound of... eight pel in the thousands column?"

L'kozu worked out the price to gil in their head - roughly eight hundred thousand. At first blush, it seemed a steep price to pay for mere beverages and light fare. However... "Mablu, we both know quite well that the premium mezcal alone is valued at ten thousand pel minimum - I understand if you wish to offer us a friends' discount, but as a merchant myself, I can't in good conscience let you cater us at a loss..."

But the young merchant instead gave Kozu a smile that they knew meant they were exactly where Mablu wanted them. After all, the expression had been plastered on their own face enough times by now.

"Why, L'kozu my friend, your concern for my coffers is deeply appreciated - but fortunately unfounded!"

At this point, L'kozu knew Mablu had been wanting to get to this point of her pitch since the beginning. Far be it from them to deprive her of the satisfaction.

"As a merchant yourself," Mablu continued, using Kozu's own words against them, "You no doubt realize that the value of a trusted connection in the markets can't be measured in gil, nor can the good it does for one's reputation." Her sly smile persisted. "I'm sure you agree that a few recommendations from your good self would see returns in spades!"

Before Kozu could offer a retort, Mablu continued, "And before I hear you expound on the nature of exposure versus cold, hard coin, I've secured a deal with Miplu, Ciblu, and the rest for bulk prices in exchange for directing travelers their way. I'm actually reaping a tidy sum from all this, myself!"

From a round table across the way, Wuk Lamat, Eryna, Caranar, and Beef all watched the two merchants work it out.

"I don't think I've seen him fight this hard to pay more before." Caranar muttered.

"Mablu has come a long way in a short time, hasn't she Bifu?"

Beef would have nodded were he not leaning onto the table with his chin in his hands. "Lamaty'i too."

"Pfff." Wuk Lamat waved the flattery away.

Eryna leaned into the table, toward Beef. "Are you as excited as I am, Beef?"

This made Beef crack a smile. "Mmhm."

"I'm just glad you were able to find the time to relax and enjoy all that Tural has to offer!" said Wuk Lamat. "Based on the stories Bifu has told me, you two deserve a good vacation."

"I was thinking just the same of you, Vow Wuk Lamat." Eryna stated in a friendly, proper tone.

This prompted Wuk Lamat to groan miserably and all but flop forward onto the table. "No more titles, I'm begging you. It's okay to use 'Lamaty'i' - if you're family to Bifu, you're family to me."

The party was awaiting a full selection of the most popular beverages the Wachunpelo had on offer.

The following is a list of each drink sampled and the reactions of those who were yet unfamiliar with them.

First was mate, courtesy of Miplu's Garden:

Caranar "thought it was good".

Eryna politely commented that the flavor was rather reminiscent of fresh grass.

L'kozu greatly enjoyed the drink, describing the flavor as bitter, yet fresh and green, almost akin to the essence of raw leafy vegetables, and deeply invigorating.

Beef crinkled his nose after the first sip, but drained the rest of the cup without any further issue.

Following the mate (and accompanied by a tray of baked goods) was fresh, locally sourced coffee:

Caranar "really liked it".

Eryna was not terribly fond of the coffee, and opted not to comment out of consideration for her hosts' feelings.

L'kozu found the aroma quite pleasing, but felt that the flavor was bitter to the point of astringency. However, they came round once they had the opportunity to add cream and sugar, claiming that they had begun to appreciate the depth and complexity of the coffee's flavor.

Beef's face was scrunched tight the entire time he drank from his cup, but he still drained it. When asked, he said it was "good". He also slept very little the following night.

Afterward came a round of hot chocolate, with sweet kukuru beans sourced from Yak T'el.

Caranar took one sip, shook his head, and slid the drink back across the table.

Eryna called the flavor sweet and nostalgic, and was glad to have something more to her tastes.

L'kozu also enjoyed the drink, and spent some time trying to decipher what spices had been mixed into the kukuru powder to compliment its flavor. Eventually, he got them all.

Beef smiled while drinking, and finished the whole cup rather quickly.

Finally, the group all enjoyed a nip from a bottle of the same premium mezcal they had acquired during the Feat of Gold - which is to say, everyone sipped their drinks while Caranar and Wuk Lamat had pour after pour until the bottle was dry.

Caranar thoroughly enjoyed the spirit, to say the least.

Eryna finished the very modest taste she poured for herself, but had no interest in further sampling the drink, as the alcoholic content was far stronger than she would have preferred.

L'kozu agreed with Eryna's evaluation, and suggested that if a beverage more akin to wine were to be had, it may be more to their tastes.

Beef didn't try the mezcal, but he did drink Eryna's coffee and Caranar's hot chocolate while the others debated whether he might have finally grown old enough to actually partake.

By the time they had finished everyone had found a new local favorite, and Wuk Lamat was all but carried back home by Caranar. The next morning, the two could be seen sampling hangover and dry scale remedies down at Xeerol Ja Juicecraft with an exhausted Beef in tow.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 20

To the Attention of One Mr. Caranar (no surname)

As recompense for innumerable personal offenses, irreconcilable differences, and generally insufferable behavior, you are hereby challenged to a gentlemanly duel under the law of the Holy See and the Fury's ever-vigilant eye.

Don't bring a second.

- Renaud-Elouan Cledwyn

"What a load of shite." Eryna stated.

Caranar stood at his wife's desk, trying to get her to put ink to paper.

"I don't see why you should even bother to answer. He's an arse."

"He's not gonna let it go."

"How can you be sure?"

In response, Caranar held up three more similarly addressed letters, still in their envelopes.

"Ugh." Eryna looked over the message once more. "Since when did he give a damn about what was proper according to Halonic scripture? And what's this bloody nonsense about 'no seconds'? That alone isn't proper."

"He's a coward. The only reason he'd ask for a duel in the first place is so he can cheat."

Eryna rolled her eyes. He was surely right, but... "All the more reason for you to let him bluster about unheeded like the impotent wretch he is."

"Or," Caranar muttered through his teeth, "I could thrash him within an ilm of his life like he so badly wants, so he'll think twice about trying it again."

She groaned loudly and drooped against her desk. "I just don't want you getting hurt."

He snorted, then graced her with a crooked smile. "I know. Don't worry, he's not gonna get the chance."

"You really mustn't kill him, either. Beef and Popola would be devastated."

Caranar grumbled affirmatively. "You ready to start writing?"

Eryna sat up and lifted her quill from its inkwell. "I suppose."

"Alright..."

Dear Renaud,

Fuck yourself. Time and place?

Sincerely, Caranar

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 21

The swaying shape of the palm trees' shade offered Eryna some passing respite from the sun. Pale as she was, there was only so much sunbathing she could bear. She lay under her parasol's protection in the new swimsuit Wuk Lamat had picked out for her, (the pieces fit so perfectly they raised questions, and she suspected the hand of Tataru Taru) and ogled the valley of fabric tucked beneath her husband's tail from behind her tinted lenses.

Caranar himself was up to his calves in the cool tide, back arched and muscles tensed. In his raised hand, he held Kozu's spearfishing gig - Eileif's, he reminded himself, in spite of his focus on the task at hand - and watched the school that had begun to acclimate to his presence.

With a swift thrust, Caranar deftly speared one of the carelessly curious creatures.

Under the water's surface it had appeared almost as a ghost, but as he raised it from the waves for inspection he could see that it merely bore more reflective scales than its cousins. A number of them, roasted whole, would likely make for a decent meal. And they were pretty, besides.

Caranar lowered himself into the shallows, much to Eryna's disappointment, and paddled his way over to the sun-baked shoal with his catch. L'kozu would probably know what species it was. Eileif. Eileif Bui'kozu. He groaned internally as he dragged himself atop the stones, smoothed out by the tide. He really needed to ask if 'Kozu' was still fine as a nickname. Maybe something even easier to remember, like Ei. In the meantime, he'd warm himself under the rays a while until the fish had forgotten his transgression and gathered again.

Eileif himself was kneeling in the sand a ways away from the ocean's edge, examining a seashell. "This one is quite lovely, yes." he said as he set it atop the growing pile of other seashells Beef had brought him. Beef kept staring at him expectantly, but until he had tracked down more esoteric volumes of local fisherman's folklore, Eileif could but make an educated guess at whatever beastie had inhabited the shell before it had come into his possession. "Why don't you keep searching for more decorations, Beef?"

Beef nodded and scampered off in no particular direction, already completely mission-minded. He's taking this sandcastle rather seriously, Eileif thought as he changed to a more comfortable sitting position, shifting his weight off his lower legs. He'd begun to feel the sun beating on his bare back more keenly a few sandy spires ago...

Eileif took a moment to stop working on his construction project and look back in the direction of Xbalyav Ty'e. He could see merchants and beachcombers alike trading words and pel; marvelous displays of Turali refreshment and repast.

A round of drinks was never unwelcome. Maybe the time had come for some re-hydration?

They had all sorely needed a day of relaxation, after all.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 30

"Brother..."

"So...it is to be defeat..."

"Father? Is that you?" it asked.

No. He never was. His answer went unspoken.

It wept. For what? For the father it never had? For an inability to accept the truth?

"Why do you weep?" Zoraal Ja asked in turn.

"Because it hurts..." it said through its tears. "Because I don't understand why it had to be this way. Why don't I know you?"

How could it ask such a thing?

Before anyone could stop him, Beef rushed forward to Gulool Ja's side. The gaping abyss in L'kozu's own memory swallowed up the animosity that had led him to this point, led him to help strike the 'King' down with his own hands. And he knew that Beef bore the same hurts, even if they had healed without scarring.

"Why didn't you want me?"

How could he ask such a thing? How could he answer?

"How could I be a father...when my own spurned me? He left me nothing. No throne. No legacy. Nothing. And so I had nothing to leave you."

"Why does that matter!?" he cried. "Couldn't you have just...been there?"

The pitiful child was seeking purpose where it would find none. He had never found an answer.

"You ask a lost man for the way..."

Countless possible paths were wound and woven before him, too many to bear. For fear of choosing the wrong one, he had turned his back on them all - the one certainty was the trail already trodden.

Eryna grabbed Caranar's arm, as only it could hold her steady. Tight, for all of the things she wasn't sure how to feel or express. For the fear she had left behind, that this could have been the path he'd walked, had he been unable to change. He knew. He placed his hand over her own. Warmth, for the certainty that they would someday leave tomorrow to their twins; to their brother, and leave it better than they had once inherited it. She knew.

"I do not presume to call you mine...nor do I desire anything of you. But I leave behind that which I've gained by the sweat of my brow... It is yours to embrace...or spurn..."

It was no inheritance. No gift bestowed, just as he was no son beloved.

It was abandoned.

The Queen was a ghost, and she would soon be forced to accept as much. Her reason had failed her, just as his resolve had wavered. Hers was an empty throne, and his was the curse.

If he would claim it.

"I walked a path of ruin..."

The absence over his shoulder pounded and ached, the strain of its burden too much for his heart to bear. Such lengths he had gone to, and nothing but phantom pains to show for it. Two heads are better than one. So simple the arithmetic, yet the truth...so damned difficult to accept.

"...unable to surpass Father..."

Even his rivals for the throne had been forced to realize as much. Had theirs been the right path? The greater answer?

"...or Lamaty'i."

Torn down and put onto his back, Zoraal Ja gazed up into the sky. Somewhere in his fading mind, he knew a new day had already dawned. Knew she was standing over him. Already mourning him. But his view was all but consumed by the wound torn open into the Queen's domain.

It was just as well.

"So much...for the Resilient Son... The miracle..."

He spat the final, bitter words up at the sun he couldn't see. Better that he darken the sky with storm clouds than be forced to stare up into that ever-vexing blue.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 29 (Free Prompt)

Caranar was having serious regrets about agreeing to any of this.

He eyed Beef, who seemed to be having a fine time browsing the costumes provided in Milalla sizes, and then stared daggers at the promoter in his finely tailored suit. No doubt he'd swindled Beef into participating, which had in turn led Beef to seek Caranar's help. Meaning neither of them had much choice in the matter.

Beef held out some glittery, tight-fitting garment that was as gaudy as everything else Caranar could see at that moment.

The promoter promptly pounced on it. "Why yes, I think that will suit you quite nicely!" Of course he did. "Has anything caught your eye yet, Mr. Caranar? Any costume you feel showcases your inner fighter?"

"I don't give a shit." Caranar said flatly.

If the promoter was put off, he didn't show it as he went back to browsing the rack. "Hrmm, with an attitude like yours, we could easily market you as a heel fighter. We can even leverage your opinion that the use of beast souls for entertainment is immoral." He continued on, muttering to himself more than Caranar. "Some dark leathers with plenty of eye-catching studs ought to suffice..."

The promoter picked out a matching silver mask that covered the majority of Beef's face, obscuring his identity, and a hat, mask, and uniform that fit the motif of what he had planned for Caranar. In contrast to Beef's, Caranar's costume left little to the imagination.

As the two went through the process of getting dressed, Caranar's patience continued to fray at the edges. The spectacle of it all put him in mind of Ishgard's 'trials by combat'. What a laughably transparent practice - nothing but a way to satisfy the lords and laides' lust for their lessers' blood. Halone was no more likely to be in those halls than in his bedchambers.

This Arcadion was no different. Something to gain; something to hide. But at least the souls of Ishgard's supposed heretics could rest in the aetherial sea once they had been cheated out of their pitiable lives and cast into the gutter.

Most of them, anyway.

"That scowl on your face tells me you're already getting into character!"

Caranar didn't move more than a slight shift in his posture, but his presence loomed over the promoter with malice. "If you're lying about this deal of ours, you'll only have a short time to regret it."

"Oh, please. In this business, the one guarantee is business. In lieu of our standard arrangement, we will release the souls you would be earning with each match from our employ as you retain neither account nor regulator for their use. Any ethical concerns are secondary. Though I might add, you would normally be paid whether you win or lose, but due to your personal abstentions..." the promoter struggled to find a delicate way of putting it, "if you lose, you will simply be dead. But you won't need to worry about that, I'm sure."

Caranar didn't need to be told as much. If the Alexandrians' trained military hadn't posed a problem, he doubted some puffed up showmen would fare much better. He'd be damned if either of them were to die here.

"Any jobber can become a champion with enough..." The promoter trailed off, clearly trying to keep the two engaged.

"Training?" Beef offered.

"...Spin." The promoter replied. "And you two aren't just any no-name upstarts, either! You already have a following around Solution 9, though a small one, admittedly."

There was a short, rapid knock at the greenroom door.

"Ah, I hope you're ready to cut your first promo together!"

What?

Beef hopped down from his stool as the promoter went to meet and greet the film crew, a gaggle of outrunners. Their movements followed the promoter's blathering for the benefit of some unseen audience.

"And here they are! The Arcadion's newest challengers - both handpicked outsiders from beyond the dome! Like a bolt from the black: The Dark Dragon!! And his mysterious understudy: The Starling Silver!!"

What?

The promoter paused for a brief few moments, no doubt to allow time for inaudible cheering and applause.

"Now, do you have anything you want to say?"

Beef immediately stepped up to the outrunner hovering at Milalla-level. With the mask on and all but the area around his mouth exposed, it was utterly impossible to tell what expression he wore on his face. Regardless, he stared into the device intently for some time.

Eventually, the promoter keyed in to the high likelihood that Beef would never say anything at all, and did his best to work with what little material he'd been given. "Ooh, how alluring, how mysterious! What handsome, stoic soul lies beneath that still and silent mask!? I'm afraid aught will be left to your imaginations to tell!" he then turned the outrunners on Caranar. "What about you, Dark Dragon? Anything to tell the crowd gathered out there; the audience back home?"

"Yeah I got something to say." More than they bargained for, even. Caranar grabbed at the nearest outrunner and spoke directly into its digital face, just shy of shouting. "Every single one of you out there fucking disgusts me. After I tear your beloved fighters to pieces, I'm shutting this entire shithole down." He then shoved the outrunner out of his way and made for the door.

"Ohhohoho, such lurid language will have our censors working overtime! I can just hear the chorus of boos already!"

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 24

"Gods, I'm too old for this shit."

Estinien gave Caranar a sidelong squint. "For what, a night of carousing? You don't look gray enough yet to fear a few headaches."

Caranar's head rolled toward the dragoon at a crass angle. "You know damn well I meant putting drunks onto their asses."

"That's who I was talking about."

The barmaid had been in a panic when she'd flagged them down in the dusty street. "I can handle a fool or two who've had too much too quickly, but this..." she'd glanced back to the rickety wooden building. "The sheriff's the next town over, but you boys look like you can knock a couple heads together - I can pay you with warm beds and cold drinks for a few nights!"

Caranar and Estinien paused on either side of the swinging doors.

"I just wanna drink with some well-behaved scum and rogues for once." He would never admit as much to its eponymous owner, but Caranar missed the Druthers.

"What you're too old for is this incessant mewling. You aren't going to make me believe you don't enjoy this."

The only reply was silence. That much, he couldn't deny.

"Right, then. You create a diversion while I circle around the flank, study their numbers? Not that numbers will make a difference."

Caranar nodded once. He wasn't above making a scene.

Their 'plan' established, the two pushed through the doors and into the saloon.

The rowdy customers - some sort of bandits dragged up from the dirt, by the look of their leathers - had scared away the usual sots and barflies so they could have the place to themselves. One could almost have believed it was business as usual for all the ruckus, but the boisterous noise died out the moment the bandits set eyes on the pair of do-gooders in their doorway, silhouetted against the setting sun.

For one long moment, they all took each others' measure.

Then Caranar began to stride straight up to the counter, his fellow patrons tracking him with dagger-eyes all the way. There was little sound save for the slow thunk of his boots against the wooden floor.

The bartender, an aging Hhetsarro man, stood focused on polishing an already-spotless glass, but the angle of his ears and the sweat across his brow betrayed his fear.

Caranar sat himself heavily down onto the stool directly in front of the bartender, and right beside another man who was slouched forward onto the counter. He'd been the only one who'd paid no mind to Caranar's entrance, which marked him as someone with an ounce more sense than his underlings.

Well, maybe sense wasn't the right word. More like overconfidence - to keep his back turned and dismiss a potential threat.

The bartender was desperately trying to get Caranar's attention with his eyes, which kept flicking toward the bandits' leader. More specifically, toward the oversized firearm that was laid before him on the counter alongside a bottle of mezcal.

"I'll have what he's having." Caranar said. He draped an arm over the man's shoulder and jostled in an overly-friendly way.

This did little to alleviate the bartender's stress, whose hands trembled and spilled as he poured Caranar his own glass.

"Careful, now," Caranar said, "don't wanna cause a mess."

By then, the bandit leader's eye burned with fury from under the shadow of his dark, lank locks.

Caranar downed his glass while meeting the glare with his own. The glass clunked hard against the counter when he slammed it down.

"I'm sure you've got a lot of questions in there right about now," Caranar said, while still burning a hole back into the other man's gaze, "like 'who's this asshole?', or 'is this asshole stupid?'. I've heard those ones before."

Another bead of sweat rolled down the bartender's brow.

The leader's bloody red eyes darted toward his gun. Once.

"But what you should be asking is: 'can I reach my gun before the asshole does?'"

Twice.

"Well... you wanna try me?"

A third time.

Caranar slammed his foot through the bandit's barstool.

The wood splintered and dropped its burden chin-first into the sturdy counter, where his eye-level was perfectly lined up with the glass Caranar was slinging across the bar.

He smashed the glass against the bandit's face, then kept pushing until he'd bowled the man ass over end and into a heap amidst his boys.

With a quick glance, Caranar nudged the weapon toward the bartender, who grabbed at it gratefully and ducked behind the counter for cover.

"Been a while since my last good bar fight!" Caranar called out to whoever wanted to step forward first. "But I don't wanna put too much pressure on you to deliver..."

One of the nearest goons responded by flicking a knife - really? Just a knife? Not a pistol in a town like this? - from his boot and rushing at Caranar with wild swings.

He raised his burly forearms, ready to dampen the slash with the thick scales across them.

His partner stepped in before he needed to.

Estinien whipped a broom handle into the head of Caranar's attacker with enough force to relieve the man of his senses. He wasn't using them much, anyway.

Caranar ribbed Estinien as he slid to his side, shoulder to shoulder. "What, forget to sharpen your lance?"

"Only ever as dull as your sword." Estinien bantered back. He looked briefly over the fallen men nearby. "Didn't want to spill too much blood somewhere we'll have to sleep. Twelve left, by my count."

Right... they'd both had more than enough of blood. Caranar hauled off and whipped a kick into another barstool, which went sailing into some fool's general vicinity. "Kozu might finally snap if he sees what we're doing to the carpentry in here."

"Then we'd best clean house before he arrives."

Caranar's grin twisted into a grimace. He eyed Estinien's typical deadpan expression and the dismantled broom in his hands. Did the Azure Dragoon just make a damn pun?

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 3

"How's your stomach? Any better?" Krile asked, concern writ plain across her face.

"I don't know...what you mean. I don't get seasick." Wuk Lamat insisted, seasickness writ plain across her face. "I'm just feeling...a little nauseous, is all..."

Alisaie folded her arms. "Isn't that what seasickness is...?" she chided.

The Third Promise and her party had taken refuge from the sudden storm belowdecks, where they could hear their vessel strain and groan under the burden of bearing them safely to their destination. The lights in the shared cabin guttered low as it swayed heavy, and the song of the storm against the wood and window seemed to invite hushed conversation as it stifled with a suppressing silence.

Wuk Lamat sat hunched forward, doing her best to will her ills away, flanked on either side by her Lalafellin traveling companions. While Krile was doing her best to soothe, Beef lay curled tight around Gale as he made no attempt to hide his own seasickness. He'd all but clung to Wuk Lamat's skirts throughout the trip for how resistant to the waves' effects he believed her to be, by her own heroic claims.

Alphinaud did his best to steer conversation clear from the topical storm as a courtesy to those who could use the distraction, inviting Erenville to share something of himself.

However, the weather's will would not be denied.

No sooner than Erenvile began to respond did the tempest offer its own reply - with a sudden show of force it led the ship to pitch violently and sent its passengers reeling.

Loosed by the wild movements, a rolling piece of cargo smashed through the cabin doors and slammed into the safety railing.

Through the splintered doors the tempest shouted down its commands, drowning out the words of the sailors who yet stood against the chaos.

Their footing regained (mostly, as Beef dangled under Wuk Lamat's arm like a sack of popotoes) the Third Promise's party surged up from relative safety to offer their aid.

As the most experienced healer aboard, L'kozu assisted with retrieving a mariner who had fallen from the mast, and thus maintained a sanctuary from the storm belowdecks where emergency aid could be had.

Caranar, having drawn upon seemingly superhuman resolve, single-handedly tamed the sail left loose by the fallen mastman - not merely holding the halyard as it whipped and wrenched against him in the wind, but gaining slack along the rope until the sail was fully stored. Later, when the storm had settled, the crew would find curious gouges in the deck, as though some manner of beast had raked its claws along the planks.

In a display of the very pinnacle of magery, Eryna stood calm in the center of the ship as it pitched and rolled in every direction, and focused on the concentrations of aether within the clouds above. Amidst each roar of thunder, she claimed bolt after bolt of lightning in the moment it struck, and sent them glancing from the ship's hull and into the roiling waters around. Any who could wipe the slick from their faces for long enough to witness the feat would see a reminder that they traveled under the protection of the Warrior of Light herself.

In turn, Eryna's actions bought enough time for the ship's own magical defenses to be prepared, and the device was eventually activated. Through some mix of clarity during crisis, past traumatic experience aboard the Whorleater, and Gale's graces, Beef had somehow slipped free of Wuk Lamat's grasp and been the first to arrive at the primary elemental converter. However, after the completion of his solemn duty, he returned once more to tumbling about the deck with the rest of the loose cargo.

Through all combined efforts, the storm was weathered with both vessel and the souls she ferried intact.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '23 - 10

"So, you do not know wherrrre the boy has gone?" U'odh Nunh asked. He spoke with his back turned, addressing them over his shoulder. "That simply won't do, will it?"

Eryna's eyes narrowed. "You do know something, don't you?"

In the span of a heartbeat, Caranar spun the older man around and seized him by the collar.

"Do you always succeed with a show of brrrute force and blind courage, I wonder? The nunh I once fought also believed that his strrrength would save him. He was wrong." Despite his words, something sparked alight in his eyes at the rough treatment, something proud and defiant. "And now I am nunh." Few among his sons would dare to lay a hand on their father; to display such bold foolishness.

"Stop. Where is he?"

U'odh Nunh slapped Caranar's hands away in response. "Across the desert to the east lies an Amalj'aa encampment. There dwells a warrior renowned both for his strrrength and his guile." He paused to assess the state of his clothing. "I gave the boy a test, nothing more."

"You sent him after Amalj'aa alone!?" Eryna shouted.

Caranar turned and charged through the door, headed in the direction of the encampment.

Astride her chocobo, Eryna was not far behind.

U'odh Nunh's lip curled into a smile as he watched them crest the dunes and disappear. The test had begun.

~~~~~

U'zhango watched in silence... for what felt to be an eternity.

Amalj'aa came and went.

From her vantage point, U'zhango saw them clear as day. For hours she watched, until she could distinguish between them by their warpaint and the weapons at their side. If she were to deal a decisive blow, she would need to strike true.

The encampment's primary war band consisted of many grunts who were direct subordinates of a single superior warrior, distinguished by a necklace heavy with trophy marks.

One would think that the simplest way to defang the fiends would be to slay their strongest warrior... but U'zhango Odh was her father's daughter. To face this proven fighter was to court failure, as so many had done before. Her aim laid where vulnerability and value crossed.

U'zhango felt every muscle in her body tense up as her pupils grew wide and her tail lashed in anticipation. She pressed herself flat into the sand amidst the dry desert grass. Her prey had appeared.

Sporting a distinctly decorated, yet by the same token untested spear, one Amal'jaa broke away from the group. He passed through the encampment's gate, alone, and stalked over to the spring near where U'zhango was hidden.

The wind rolled over her back, sending a shiver up her spine. She was ready to pounce. Before her, bearing a pensive gaze into the branches of a sun-baked and shadeless tree, was the Amalj'aa tactician who organized raids on merchant caravans in order to gather unbelievers for Ifrit's pyre. There was no need to face the encampment's finest fighters if she could but destroy their greatest mind... Her father would be most pleased.

The time to act had come to pass.

U'zhango lunged forward, fang and claw bared. She swept across the sands in a low stance, ready to swing for her prey's tendons and strip from him the ability to stand.

But before she could close the distance, the tactician spun and dashed his lance along the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris that obscured her vision and sent her off-balance.

How did he know!? U'zhango thought. He had acted without hesitation, as though he knew she was there. Of course! The wind!

When the wind changed direction, her scent must have been carried toward her prey. Such an amateur mistake, more typical of a mewling initiate! She had allowed her confidence to narrow her vision.

And her opponent knew an opportunity when he saw one. He was on her in an instant, charging shoulder first to turn her moment of unbalance into a window of vulnerability. The two toppled over with U'zhango's back to the sand and her 'prey' putting all of his weight into forcing his lance past her defense and between her ribs.

Need to live! She thought as she gripped the spearhead. Need to kill him!

The bloodied shard of stone sank closer and closer to her breast.

Kill him! Kill him!

A whistling sound whispered into her opponent's ear as a feathered arrow lodged itself in his skull. The weight shifted suddenly off the lance as the Amalj'aa slumped sideways. From the direction of the encampment's watchtower, a mournful cry echoed across the desert...

As U'zhango rolled away and pushed herself out of the dust, the sight of her rescuer filled her with equal parts relief and annoyance.

~~~~~

From a safe distance away stood Beef, one hand on his bow and the other behind the bowstring, an arrow loosed moments before. His hands did not tremble, and his aim was true.

Caranar tossed the spear aside as the Amalj'aa veteran ceased moving.

Eryna stepped around the body and inspected Caranar's wounds - surface-level, all - before setting about mending them.

"The hells... were you thinking?" Caranar managed, still attempting to catch his breath.

"This is not the sort of fight you pick alone." Eryna added, giving Beef a stern but concerned look.

Beef looked between the two in confusion. "Fight?" Hadn't they been the ones to start the fight?

Caranar hoisted him under his arm. "C'mon, kid. We're gonna have a talk about this back in town."

~~~~~

If U'odh Nunh was surprised when the three crossed his doorstep mid-scolding, he gave no indication. "Tell me, adventurerrrs: is our old nemesis dead?"

Caranar plopped Beef down in a seat and crossed his arms in disapproval. "The Amalj'aa's dead, if that's what you're asking."

"So the spear served its purrrpose." he nodded. "And you passed your test."

"I believe you owe us an explanation, and it had better be damned good." Eryna replied, having tired of tests and games long ago.

"The spear? It belonged to one of his brrrothers. I knew when he spied it from afar, he would be unable to rrresist venturing outside the encampment to see for himself."

"No. About why you were willing to endanger Beef so carelessly."

"Endangerrr?" U'odh Nunh chuckled, a low purring rumble which rose from his core. "I asked that he did nothing more than place the spear and observe. U'bifu Tia is as much a child of the U as my own daughters, blood or no. I had no doubts that he would fulfill this duty as rrrequested."

He shot a sharp look to Eryna and Caranar. "The test was for you."

Eryna placed a hand on her hip, while Caranar's eyes narrowed.

"I know this boy. He would give his life for a strrranger. I can see from a glance that you lot are prrrepared to face Titan. What I needed to know before I let you journey a single step furrrther with my daughter's son, was if these strangers would give their lives for him."

The Nunh glanced to Beef, aware that he had broached a delicate topic in mentioning U'zhango. "Well? You're filthy, child." He waved a dismissive hand toward him. "Go have a bath, you've gotten dust on my carrrpets."

As Beef hurriedly excused himself and trotted off to the bathing spring, his family watched him go.

Something sorrowful and unspoken hung in the air.

Caranar closed his eyes as though he could shut out the conversation that he knew had to happen.

Though she ached to tell Beef the truth, Eryna continued to tell herself that the time still wasn't right.

U'odh Nunh sighed heavily. "Now that I know I can trust you with the matter of his safety, I suppose we should discuss the matter of his hearrrt."

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '23 - 5

L'kozu gave their students their best stern look. It met with mixed reception.

Popola was the first to crack under pressure. "I'm sorry. If you think I'm a lost cause, I won't waste any more of your valuable time. Please excuse me." She said as she worked her chair back and climbed down.

"Popola dear, you're doing wonderful. I can tell my lessons are taking hold as you just excused yourself with perfect form. Please, return to your seat - every mind learns at its own pace." L'kozu allowed Popola to hoist herself back into the tall dining chair before affixing their glare on the remaining students. "Indeed, some minds recoil from the thought of learning at all."

Caranar remained slouched in his seat, elbow on the table and head cradled against his hand, as he watched at a mote of dust or some such lazily drift through the air. Far more engaging than yet another lecture on dinner etiquette.

"I've learned a thing or two." he said.

L'kozu raised an eyebrow, knowing the setup for a sarcastic comment when they heard one.

"That fancy rich people have even figured out how to ruin eating."

"If it's beyond your breeding to understand the necessity of good etiquette, then I'm afraid little can be done to remedy your ignorance." Renaud-Elouan snidely piped up. "Which does bring to mind, why am I here again? I do know the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork. I was raised in a noble house, you know."

"Which fork do I use if I wanna pin somebody's hand to the table?" Caranar asked.

"I recommend using the dinner fork, as the length of the tines would be most effective in piercing clean through." L'kozu replied, "However, this is the good silver, so I ask that you refrain from demonstrating."

"And? What of my question?" Renaud tapped his foot audibly.

L'kozu regarded him coldly. "You're both here so that you don't embarrass your wives with your barbarous behavior when they inevitably bring you along for a meet-and-greet with important figures. As for you," they said, pointing a finger at the half-elf, "table manners also include knowing what topics are appropriate for the table, and which comments should remain within one's foppish trap."

"Wh- fop!? You fuck!"

"Alright, then why's Beef here?" Caranar motioned to Beef, who looked up from his bowl at the sound of his name. "He's using the big spoon and he barely talks."

"He was underfoot in the kitchen, so I'm appeasing him with soup." L'kozu said. "His table manners are actually quite good."

Renaud stopped shouting when he realized no one was listening. "Defying all logical explanation. I think he's just trying to get as much soup to his mouth as he can per scoop."

"If that was the idea he'd just lift the whole bowl. That's the 'logical' way to eat."

L'kozu sighed on the outside and screamed on the inside. They would win this war yet.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite ‘22 - 3

[cw blood, gore]

Every night, they drank communion wine.

There was always a glass in hand, and always when his eyes strayed from its contents, the glass was ready to spill over.

Its heavy, earthen taste had become an infestation of his senses.

The roaring bonfire swayed before Caranar’s drunken eyes, and between them both were the dancing shadows of his friends. Twisting and revolving around the flames and each other without end, the blurred movements encircled his mind as it circled his brain.

Was there no rock to cling to in this ceaseless engine? How could anyone find their way? Unsteady, his head lolled back until his gaze rested among the sea of stars. Of course. There was the Dusk Mother and her love, glowing and radiant as she was every night. The stars that had always guided him true, across the Three Great Continents. And...

Dalamud. Hanging bright and low in the sky. The red pinprick glared back at him, boring its way in through his eyes, the harsh light scorching a spot into his retinas so that even closing his eyelids wasn’t enough to escape the memory of its shape. A sudden searing spike of rage pierced his mind. Couldn’t he just admire Nhaama in peace? It felt harsh and red as the interloper. As the wine. Painful fury.

When he blinked rapidly against the pain in a vain attempt to dispel it, Dalamud grew large until it seemed ready to consume the sky. Interloper? It said. This dance has lasted ages, it said, if anyone here is unwanted, it is you. It was coming to remove him.

When he tried to raise a hand to his temple and grasp at the pressure, his limbs were heavy and damp against his brow.

Oh no. He had spilled the wine. His shirt was stained in red.

They all were. His shirt, his pants, his hands... red from top to bottom. The cold raked through his clothes as they hung from him in tatters.

Wine drenched every surface under the dawning light.

The tables, the bedrolls, the snow...

Snow? During a Coerthan Summer?

Yes, it laid thickly around the camp with the fire gone out, even a dusting over his slumbering companions. Was it already Winter? The long days ran so short with so much wine. The wine. It pooled in the melted snow beneath them as they lay.

Another spike of pain in his mind, this one cold and white as frozen steel.

Flashes of pain and noise and flesh and wine ran through his mind like the rapid flipping pages of a heavy tome.

The bottle had been uncorked. Memories of the night flowed freely into his skull.

The pain in his bones screaming awake, the noise of fear as he lunged forward, the feeling of flesh giving way as it was torn away from itself, wine splashed across his face.

His friends lay in unending slumber, their twisted forms melted into incomplete works of scale and skin, fang and claw. Their wine and his temper had all poured forth into an orgy of violence and monstrosity.

In the storm’s eye Caranar stood, wine on his clothes, on his face, on his hands.

Violent shudders and shakes seized hold of his limbs as emotion seized hold of his thoughts.

How could they? How could he?

He stumbled back from the questions until he was falling

falling

falling out of his chair.

Caranar’s back landed hard out of the vision. Was it a vision? A nightmare? A nightmare. So much wine.

The others continued their carousel of carousal without him.

He stared up at the moons and stars above him, adrenaline fighting with the alcohol inside him. Overhead, Dalamud hung bright and distant in the sky, like a drop of wine in the ocean.

Like a flood of wine in the veins.

Like a pool of blood in the stomach.

Like a bottle of blood in the wine.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite ‘22 - 23

Beef’s eyes trained on Caranar’s broad shoulders as they gradually slipped out of the campfire’s light. He and Gale watched even after Caranar’s shape melted into the shadows of a Steppe night.

The statue shrine of the ‘Dawn Mother’ loomed far in the dark distance, well beyond the reach of Beef’s sight. That’s where Caranar was going. But he didn’t have Gale’s help, so how did he know it was there? Could he get lost?

Beef set aside the camping dishes he had used to make supper. There would be time to clean them after he helped Caranar with what he was doing.

“Beef, I think he needs some privacy.” Eryna called.

Her gentle tone made Beef slow to a stop. He stood there, tensed and ready to move, like a cat that knew it was misbehaving. His and Gale’s ears strained to follow Caranar’s path. Beef couldn’t make anything out over the crackle of the campfire, but through Gale he could sense life flowing across the Steppe. A flock of bleating sheep to the Northeast. Due East, Reunion traders chattering about their profits and packing up their wares for the night. There, the soft whisper of grass underfoot - already near 70 fulms, West by Southwest.

“Beef.” Eryna laid a hand, soft but firm, on his shoulder. He felt the tension leave his limbs as his senses snapped back to the immediate surroundings. Eryna was knelt beside him, picking the dishes up with a clatter and scrape.

“Why don’t you lay out your bedroll? I’ll handle the cleaning up tonight.”

He glanced back in the direction in which he had heard Caranar, but reluctantly did as he was told. Within the bell, the sounds of scrubbing pots and shifting blankets had ceased, and Beef was left nested in his bedroll, staring up at stars glimmering through the firelight. As the constellations mapped their tales across the sky above, Beef heard the mournful echo of strings in the wind. The woe-born pitch belonged to a refrain he had neither heard nor played, but had felt repeated time and again within his own heart.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite ‘22 - 17

Eryna laid her hands atop her chest and the bedspread. The book she had been reading was still open between them, nestled in a loose grip with one thumb marking her place. On her face were a delicate pair of spectacles for nighttime reading and a complicated expression somewhere between perplexed and insulted.

Caranar emerged from the washroom in a cloud of steam and a towel, water droplets scattered like glitter across his scales and muscles, but Eryna was too bewildered by her reading material to take notice. Spotting the look on her face, he stopped trying to catch her eye and walked over to the bedside.

“That’s not the reaction I usually get. Whatcha reading?”

“It’s-” She raised the book towards him and waited for him to work through the Eorzean script on the cover.

“The Life and Deeds of the Warrior of Light?” Caranar lifted the blankets and slid in beside her. “I thought you were already the leading authority on that subject.”

“Well I could certainly give whoever wrote this a few lessons. I’ve only read up to the Dragonsong War - which is mostly accurate because of how widely published Lord Edmont’s memoirs have become, but...” Eryna blinked rapidly as she tried to find the right words.

This matter called for citing specific textual evidence. Eryna propped herself up with an elbow so she could lean against Caranar and snatch her bookmark from the nightstand on his other side. Once she had returned to her half of the bed and saved her page, she quickly began flipping to the earlier pages of the supposed biography. “First of all, I had only been to Carteneau briefly before we went there with Nero. Yet here I am, turning the tide against the imperials along with Louisoix and the other Scions of the Seventh Dawn, which,” she continued as Caranar opened his mouth, “is another inaccuracy as they were still called the Circle of Knowing at that point anyway.��

“So you’re saying-”

“’The Warrior of Light’s origins are still steeped in mystery,’” she muttered from memory in a mocking tone. While she did, she thumbed ahead for a different problematic detail. “You know where I was before The Calamity? Milking sheep in my parents’ pastures. Really, would it have killed them to do even the most basic research beyond rumors and hearsay?”

Caranar waited a few seconds to see if she had finished. “So you’re saying it’s-”

“Complete shite?”

“Yeah. Where’d you even find it? Nick it from the restricted section like the other ones you’ve been reading lately?”

Eryna turned her head on the pillow to fix a look on Caranar that said that was supposed to be a secret, but his horns were preventing him from facing anywhere other than the ceiling. “No, the owner of that little stand near the aetheryte was hawking it. I had to know what drivel was being spread around about us.” She sighed heavily. “Now I wish I didn’t.”

“Wait, us?”

“Yes, us.” Eryna replied as she sat up and held the book above his face so he could see one of the... gratuitously embellished woodcut prints that could be found in its pages. This one depicted Eryna and Caranar sharing a bed much like they were in that moment. There were a few key differences.

“Looks like the kind of pulp novel L’kozu would like.” Even though her back was facing him, the smirk was audible in his words.

Eryna thwapped him on the arm with the paperback.

“Ow.”