#Fen Lohro

[sliptohk]

Prompt #30: Amity

Hunched over the workbench, Fen raised her goggles even as her right eye slid closed. It was always a disorienting change, the flash of aether bursting into view with all the shifting shapes and colors that threatened to empty her belly if given time enough to overwhelm the miqo'te's senses. She would not need quite so long as that for the simple task before her. Fingers tracing the circuit from point to point, ensuring that the flow of energy was neither obstructed nor misdirected by the design holding the conductive pieces in place.

It had become a common enough practice that the engineer was quite capable of holding a conversation while working.

"It surprises me that you can sleep so soundly when you craft such dreadful things, Qata. Does it not bother you that your creations can be used to such detrimental effect to other denizens of our star?"

An ear flicked in response to that question, the young mage nearly scoffing in response, "I have seen you build weapons, Fen! Are you sleep deprived as those thoughts fill your daylight house?"

The tinker gave a dismissive sound of their own, "That is not the same! One could buy weapons anywhere, mine are works of art! Possessed of a unique flare to make them stand apart, one could not simply put my techniques to use in crafting them in great quantities!"

"Exactly!" Both ears flapped now in excitement, "The Alacran craft their poisons, woefully simplistic, if effective, as they may be! Alchemist and herbalist do much the same! My hands cannot flood this star on their own even if I were inclined to lower myself to such a base expression of my expertise!"

There was a quiet thump, as Qata had most likely been trying to raise her hands to flap about in enthusiastic emphasis for her words. A faint sloshing sound followed as they settled once again. Fen glanced across toward the Ooja. Her face at least, as the rest was submerged in a rather tightly sealed water drum. The two locked eyes for some time, before the conversation continued. Neither opting to acknowledge the odd circumstances they presently found themselves in.

"There should be something said for the nature of what has been crafted, not simply the prevalence of it. Can you argue that your mixtures are not explicitly designed to do harm? I could develop lovely little replicas should I so wish. Could the same be said for your… art?"

"Ah!" A rattle of displeasure as the small miqo'te wriggled about in their cage, "You said it so derisively! Its no less worthy of respect than the lifelong works of another!"

"Debatable, but in the interest of civility I retract any perceived disdain."

Qata was too naive to grasp sarcasm, continuing on with a satisfied nod, "Then I shall answer! Your pursuits favor the form just as highly as the function - so its quite possible for you to focus entirely on only one aspect should you desire. As mine exists solely due to the function I wish to explore it cannot be complete in any other fashion. But! I do not intend for them to simply be an agent of discomfort-"

"Agent of agony, the repetition makes it sound more poetic."

"Why does that matter? Regardless! They are learning aids to explore the way the body responds to foreign influence. And I tend to use them on myself! At least until I am confident in their degree of lethality."

Fen arced a red eyebrow, "Which would be?"

"What? The degree? None. Why should I want another to die? That would be a waste of both specimens!"

"Spoken tend to dislike being referred to as specimens."

"And you keep trying to refer to them as victims!"

"Unapologetically!"

"Release me! I want to storm out in dramatic disapproval!"

The Lohro woman wrinkled her nose, before giving denying that request with a firm shake of her head. Braids swinging from the energetic display. "No. Absolutely not. You will wait another couple bells, I have no idea just what you were doing with those skunks but you will not be tracking that aroma through here. Just let the bath finish its work."

"But I have so much work to do!"

"Behave and I will even spoon feed you a bowl of stew."

"… two bowls."

"If we continue our discussion."

Qata gave an assertive twitch of the ears. It was difficult to limit the entirety of expression to only them and her face, but she did the best she could. "Very well, but I keep telling you its easier to understand if you take a sample. Just make sure you let me out first for the sake of safety!"

"Yours or mine?"

"Both."

[sliptohk]

Prompt #24: I can't wait to go home and play this hit new tomestone game but WAIT, why is my rival waiting there in my bedroom?! or Infected

Such a treasure was a rare find, collectors offering far more than Fen could ever hope in exchange for whatever secret knowledge may lay upon those ancient treasures. Secrets of smithing or engineering lost to the ages. Studies of the flow and nature of aether disbursement through stretches of the star since filled with denizens who had long forgotten their original names. Unique methods of imbuing aether into the weave of common day clothing, or worked into the structures those advanced people once called home.

Or, in the Lohro's case, some sort of time-wasting diversion most likely intended for the younger generation of that illustrious time. This one in particular seemed to have some stick shape slowly moving about on the screen. A few pushes of the button proved that it could have its direction altered, and contacting small blips spread throughout the region only served to make the entire shape longer and more cumbersome.

Monotonous, yet oddly inticing to the engineer as she frittered away the walk with that mysterious tomestone stuck firmly into her reading device. Despite its simplicity, she found herself caught up in the mediocre action so deeply as to walk by her own shop a couple times while mindlessly circling the block. Only when she finally realized she could not cross the shape with itself, drawing some odd sound and unreadable foreign text, did the huntress pay proper attention to return to the store.

A scent was on the air, unmistakable when she opened the door. Familiar scents of plants back home discernable through the tang of metal and acrid scent of chemicals she had left to separate. The disadvantage to keeping her living space within the same confines of the shop were two-fold. The first, lay in the simple fact that running a forge all night meant a toasty sleeping situation through the already impressive heat of the Ul'dah day. The second, was that when an overly enthusiastic customer decided to come calling while you were out they were able to access both bed and breakfast.

Considering that was not the charming little business the inventor was in, she did not find the unannounced visitors welcome.

"Alright, Qata, I can smell you over there! I know you did not climb down the chimney again, the smell of burning skin and hair is lacking!"

With the sound of ruffling furs, the intruder rose up lazily in bed. Arms stretched up as she let out a prolonged groan, ending in a sharp squeak, when the fog was fully worked out of their groggy mind. Or at least as much fog as could be expected from the particularly cloudy mental state of the Ooja.

"You had best not have worked any of those mixtures into the sheets! I told you there would be no more purification vessels if you gave me so much as a ticklish nose!"

Squinting across the room toward Fen, the poisoner flattened their ears, "But I need them! Desperately! If I cannot purify my mixtures then how can I know whether the resultant experimentation is tainted by those impurities?!" There was a brief pause, before she hesitantly added with the most innocent look she could work into those practically glowing violet eyes, "But yes, I neither painted my nails nor my lips. Not even a touch to the fangs! No dust gently folded into my clothing! I feel naked, Fen! Positively naked!"

"Well." The taller, red-haired miqo'te gave a dismissive wave of one hand as she moved to drop that tomestone on her desk until later, "As long as you are not literally naked."

"Why would I be naked?"

"To seduce me, of course! Bend me to your wiles to get me working on your commissions!"

The younger Keeper's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "I can speak just as well with or without clothing. There is nothing more seductive than the allure of exploration, no more intimate act than communion with our art. Except perhaps eating. I have heard that chewing has some sort of deeper meaning. Or maybe that was smoking. It was something to do with mouths. I was not paying much attention to the man who was saying it. They may have had some physical infirmity, there eyebrows kept wiggling at me uncontrollably. Muscle spasms, perhaps?" Something in Fen's words finally dawned on her, as she let out a scandalized, "You have not begun working on my commission?!"

After a tentative sniff to ensure there really was nothing lingering about the room, the Lohro came nearer to pat the back of Qata's hand. If she began to swell up or foam at the mouth it would be the little liar's hide.

"A joke, my dear swamp sister!" It felt odd calling an Ooja sister, but thus far their working relationship had been surprisingly pleasant. "Its begun. Come, we have much to discuss on the next steps in the development."

"Excellent! I can bring samples to test the apparatus!"

That earned the green-haired woman a sharp look. "Not on your life. After your displeasure at the threat of contamination you would introduce the possibility of it to my workshop?"

"Oh. Yes, that would be rude."

"Yes, Qata. Yes, it would."

Fen was entirely certain that it was an inevitability. But perhaps strenuous and repeated efforts to emphasize the importance of not being poisoned would serve to actually avoid the situation entirely. After all, a Lohro and an Ooja occupying the same space without bloodshed was a miracle in itself.

[sliptohk]

Prompt# 26: Last

"What do you see, Nefalia?"

Fen crouched among the high branches of the trails, gaze focused on the beast below. Its movement a slow, plodding gait as it trudged through the thick muck of the waters. The scars covering its hide spoke volumes of its life. What it had survived in the unforgiving life among the Shroud, harried by predators among its fellow beasts as well as the huntresses of the wood. Marks of claw and fang stood beside the raised flesh where broken arrows had been covered over, none of its stalkers able to fell the creature.

Its herd had lacked the same luck, or fierce survivor's will, that the ancient had. Their bones scattered among the wild, or woven into the clothing, jewelry, and weapons of the fierce tribes that lived within that region. There was no doubt that it would make for fine eating as the clear muscle of its form shifted with each motion, a hint of fat from its productive grazing about its belly.

Arms looped around her eldest sister's neck, the young Keeper peered forth at the creature. A foreign sight to their young eyes, given how time had caused their numbers to dwindle. Fewer than the Lohro tribe itself before they had first drawn breath. Shifting as she thought, her heels dug into the smith's ribs for a moment. Fen made no sound of complaint at the temporary discomfort.

"I feel if I say a feast it would be wrong. We have seen prey often and you never ask me that question."

The red-haired miqo'te chuckled at that, the sound raising the wary ears of the experienced creature beneath. It pawed at a bit of stump, crushing it to splinters beneath one mighty hoof as if to warn off any would-be hunters laying in wait for it. While spooking them had not been the goal, there was no hiding the delighted reaction to the clever little girl on her back.

"Correct, little sister. What you see is an endling."

Adjusting them on the perch, Fen began to pick their way closer among the canopy. Careful not to rattle branches, they brought the two closer. The grip on her growing tighter, but not so badly as it strangle the woman's thick neck. It was not until they were nearly on top of their quarry that she stopped and continued on in that quiet little whisper.

"We are hunters, not beasts. Were a croc to take them it would simply be the way of nature. They think nothing of what comes before them save the way it may sate their hunger. A beast will devour each creature it can without regard for whether the next day will bring more to fill their belly." One hand held firmly to a steadying trunk, while the other reached up to tap the end of Nefalia's nose. "We are not beasts. A huntress must cultivate the land to ensure a good hunt. A hungry evening may prevent us from suffering a fruitless season. Do we down a pregnant doe?"

"Of course not."

"Nor a laden sow?"

"Obviously we would not."

"Then what do you see, Nefalia?"

The kitten gave it a good deal more thought than before, simply knowing that it was not the obvious answer did not mean that recognizing that was the correct one. She had been asked what she saw, not what she thought. Yet even after some time spent looking at them, the Keeper struggled to put to words what was most likely at the heart of that question.

"A lonely animal."

That response earned no laugh, as Fen nodded gravely, "It is. Not the way we may be without others around us, but even a beast can have its heart broken. It knows there are none like it about, but it cannot know that there are none like it on this star. But its not so simple an answer as that."

The question would not be asked a third time, as motion drew the Keeper's eye toward the far banks of that crossing. A pair of hyur, one raising a bow while their companion gestured toward their slowly moving prey. An unacceptable trespass even had it been a denizen in abundance among the Lohro's lands. Gripping a dried segment of branch, she snapped it loudly and with purpose. At once, that head snapped up and stopped. Nostrils flaring and ears waving in search of the sound that had alarmed it.

A second broken limb saw it leaping in great bounds, sending up a spray of dark water as bowstring sang and the arrow flew off into the soggy mists.

It would be a poor idea to be seen by those intruders, so Fen climbed higher into the treetops. Finding themselves a comfortable little spot to rest while the poachers beneath took themselves elsewhere in search of easier meat. She was uncertain just how many hunts they would need foil, how many trail markers they would need tamper with, before those unwelcome invaders finally took themselves far from their lands. But that was a matter for her and the elder sisters to worry about, not Nefalia.

Quietly, so as not to call attention, she spoke in a low voice, "What you see, my dear sister, is a failure. Our failure. These lands are not here simply to drain of their resources, we are not an invasive species like odd flora or foreign fauna that makes its way throughout the world. We are wardens, tasked by Menphina to protect our land. To prove we have the wisdom and strength to make it prosper. That poor creature was let down by our sisters across the Shroud. If predators grow in abundance, we predate. If prey threatens to devour every root and stem, we prey. Should poachers encroach, then we shatter their bows and trip their traps. Nothing lives outside the natural balance, lovely little moonbeam, and none but we have the knowledge to keep those scales even."

Nefalia listened attentively, when an elder spoke it paid well to listen to their lessons. It made sense, even if her developing mind did not fully grasp the depths of responsibility that their charge demanded. If she were the last of the Lohro, then it would cause her no end of tears. That it would be any different for the lonesome creature eking out its living among the woods failed to penetrate. All things lived, and died, so why should its sorrow be any lesser than her kin's own?

~~~

"The struggler persists, sister." Bubbles trailed from the mouth of the Ooja woman, head lowered deep enough to nearly bury their mouth in the duckweed patch they lurked within.

Qata gave a sound of acknowledgement as she observed the leaping creature. Truly a thing of beauty, the way the aether within roiled with such primal vigor. Yet not a touch of any usable ingredients within blood or bone, save for perhaps a satisfying tea made from its bones.

A shame it would make for such a bitter draught.

"Where do you think its off to?" Turning slightly send a tremor through the water's surface, she sent the plantlife dancing as it passed.

Pelhna did not shrug, that would have been too obvious a motion with the moonlight falling upon them that fine evening, "To its end. Always to its end, sister. All paths lead there, no matter how vigorous it charges down it."

"Such a waste." A sigh escaped green-painted lips, as Qata looked directly at the circling insects above the two, hair spreading out in the water like her own personal lily pad, "A plentiful and varied selection of subjects always makes for a stronger testing pool."

Pelhna snorted in response, one of the vilekin flitting away for a moment as they swallowed back a curse. It was too high a price to waste their entire evening all for a single derisive sound. Thankfully, it seemed only a temporary deterrent as they returned to their frenzied swarming even as opportunistic toads snatched up the slower moving ones darting above the water line.

"Its own fault, really. It failed to change with the world around it, hardly a surprise that ill-suited beastkin should find themselves pushed out by superior rivals."

Qata furrowed her brows at that, fixing a disapproving look upon their sister, "Is that not how the Ooja found themselves here? Were we not inferior to those that stole our land?"

The returning glower was far fiercer than anticipated, a warning hiss in the words that were spat back, "Belittle our tragedy and I will drown you here and now!"

Even someone as woefully unobservant as the young poison mage could understand that this was not some idle threat. It seemed that among her own tribe there were many that could not have a simple discussion about the unmitigated failures of their past. Or at least whatever story had been woven for them. It seemed to make little sense to Qata, not that she particularly cared about the reality of it. So long as it made for an interesting tale, then what role should truth play in such a thing.

"Peace! Peace! I have no gills!"

A bit of bogwater was spat at her, though that was far preferable than the breathless alternative. Though it may have been too early to tell if Pelhna was truly pacified, at least they seemed less likely to commit sororicide. Even if only fractionally so that was an improvement. When she spoke, every word dripped venom. And not the kind that the Ooja loved so dearly.

"Nature has no mercy for the weak. It was the malice of our traitorous Keeper kin that saw us felled. A lesson you would do best to learn, Qata."

"Then.." Head cocked slightly, one ear nearly flicking before she restrained herself from any motions that may disturb their collection of specimens, "Why do we not take the creature for ourselves?"

There was a long pause. Long enough that Qata grew a touch nervous that there may be some trembling rage only barely being restrained beside her. But no, there was only a stubborn frown, perhaps even a touch thoughtful which was a lovely change on the faces of a number of her more violently reactive sisters.

"Because to end a line is a terrible thing. Nature will have its way, it does not need a bloody hand to hasten its progress."

[sliptohk]

Prompt #22: Fulsome

It was a long journey, the weight of the heavy pack upon Fen's shoulders sure to leave an ache for nights to come. Trekking through the shroud was always a trying adventure, ignorance of the secrets ways and means that other tribes may have cultivated through their lands only adding more steps to the path. When those involved hopping from root to root to avoid the sucking mud of the earth about her it only made for cold nights in sweat-heavy clothing.

Great joy swelled upon finally reaching the outskirts of the Lohro territory, markings directing her to the nearest tree-top run. A careful second look just to ensure the more subtle indicators of a false path were absent before taking to the canopy to race across the massive limbs of ancient growth. A far preferable way to travel, though she would admit her opinion was a touch bias.

Coming closer to home, she remained mindful of the reclusive nature of the family. They had not survived as long as they had without being wary of unannounced visitors, so those identifiers were sent out swiftly.

There was no appeal to taking an arrow due to carelessness.

Short sounds hissed from the tall inventor, emulating the calls of native wildlife in a practiced combination. Enough to herald her coming as soon enough there a weight dropped onto a springy branch near her. Deep purple eyes glittering in the moonlight as Khenma silently took up position next to their sister, easily keeping pace with the more heavily laden Lohro.

There was no need for a guard, but it had been some time since the last visit. Undoubtedly those sisters that did not join the run would be waiting impatiently for her arrival.

A smug grin stretched Fen's mouth, the sharp tips of her fangs on clear display as she gave a nudge to her smaller half-sibling, "Anything interesting happen in my absence? Nothing moreso than my return, I would wager?"

Khenma gave a shrug in reply, choosing to save her breath for running rather than chatter. Which was a shame, as the huntress did so love to fill the empty space. Yet no matter how she picked or prodded, the ink-black Keeper offered nothing save gestures in response.

Soon enough, the hooded lamplight of a welcoming beacon came within sight. Wobbling back and forth, until trees parted enough to make out the figure of Ghemala absently tilting it back and forth. Treating it like some sort of bell that would chime if she managed to work the clapper just right. It was with a surprise to the absent-minded woman that Fen bounded up the last few rungs of a rope ladder to join her, having already forgotten the exact reason she was waving the guiding light was to welcome them. Khenma's arrival shortly after drew a second start.

"Oh! Hello, sisters! What brings you by?" It was asked with such sincerity that the possibility of a joke was utterly impossible.

"I live here." The vow of silence was broken for that one exasperated reminder.

"And I have returned here! With presents! Gifts! Trophies!"

The bulging sack gave credence to that claim. An enthusiastic endorsement at that. Tempting as it was to unveil those offerings as others joined in the small gathering, none pressed the matter until Mehhzi managed a slow, aching walk down to the landing. That hair was looking more grey, back more stooped, at least to Fen's eye after several moons away.

"Greetings, grandmother!" Fen would have towered above the matriarch even if youth still straightened her spine. As it was, she leaned down to keep the elderly miqo'te from having to look up to meet her face, "Shall we relax by the fire as I shower you all with tokens of my love?"

With one hand on the carved wooden cane she carried, the other gripped Fen's offered forearm with a firmness that defied their aged appearance, "That seems a fine idea, granddaughter."

Nestling their leader snugly into the fur-draped seat at the head of their table, with the remaining Lohro finding their own preferred seats, the engineer finally took the space opposite the matriarch to throw back the cover of the pack with a dramatic flair. A cornucopia of items simply waiting for them.

Rare spices from beyond the limits of their land. Potent salves for weathered joints. Tools of well-oiled steel to replace those too old or chipped to be of further use. Little trinkets for kin of age with her and older, and small, colorful toys for Nefalia to amuse herself with. But in all, it was only the prelude. Useful items, well worthy of appreciation, but then the bulk of Fen's burden was finally laid down.

Candies striped in vibrant colors, clacking against each other as she hefted the bag. Bottles of syrups and satchels of sugar. Well ground flour, unlike the more glutenous tubers her kin were forced to bake with. Sweets upon sweets, as chocolates and taffies followed, each one drawing the very keen eye of the Lohro. While others may have taken such things for granted, or possessed a less prodigious sweet tooth, there was no shortage of adoration for those exotic offerings that were absent from their homeland.

No, in the eyes of her family there was no such thing as an excess when it came to the growing mound of confectioneries, except perhaps the exuberant and abundant descriptions that each one received when it was drawn forth from that stuffed luggage. It simply delayed the opportunity for them to test those treats.

Thoroughly.

[sliptohk]

Prompt #13: Check

"Another story? Are you drawn to my alluring voice, or to the contents of the tale itself? You need not answer that, I will simply assume the most flattering reply!"

"Now what had I last spoken of? Not the swamp wraiths. No, not our mournful caller. I believe it was those late night callers that distracted me from my work. I see no reason to deprive you of another telling to put a shiver through your spine should you step foot within the damper stretches of the Shroud!"

"Yes, yes, you are very brave. No, no, you have no need to tell me of all the beasts you have slain, nor monsters you have bested. I am duly convinced that such a well traveled adventurer such as yourself would never fear some bogeymen of the bogs as I so love to regale you with. Would it be wholly cliche for me to speak of a fearless explorer such as yourself, then? Bite back your answer, it shall not change my mind!"

Deep within that shrouded land, Brave Hadding sought his glory. Pursuing fierce and vile beast, Moving with bloody wake. Heedless of what scent it left, Caring only for the journey. Countless yalms neath heavy feet, Careless of all natural beauty. With but one step misplaced, Waking sudden, frightful fate. What dreadful choice of duty, In search of something sweet. For old one woken and surly, Sudden violence, life bereft. That great hunger did it slake, Indulging in its feast. Thus would end Fool Hadding's story, Beneath a silvery strand.

"It sounds odd? Perhaps I simply told it wrong? Would you prefer if it went more like this?"

Deep within that shrouded land, beneath a silvery strand. Brave Hadding sought his glory, thus would end Fool Hadding's story. Pursuing fierce and vile beast, indulging in its feast. Moving with bloody wake, that great hunger did it slake. Heedless of what scent it left, sudden violence, life bereft. Countless yalms neath heavy feet, in search of something sweet. Careless of all natural beauty, what dreadful choice of duty. With but one step misplaced, waking sudden, frightful fate.

"Still not to your liking? Perhaps the wrong lines were combined!"

Beneath a silvery strand, deep within that shrouded land. Thus would end Fool Hadding's story, Brave Hadding sought his glory. Indulging in its feast, pursuing fierce and vile beast. That great hunger did it slake, moving with bloody wake. Sudden violence, life bereft, heedless of what scent it left. In search of something sweet, countless yalms beneath its feet. What dreadful choice of duty, careless of all natural beauty. Waking sudden, frightful fate, with but one step misplaced.

"Has that still not satisfied? Never fear! The land, much like our stories, shift about so often! What one thinks, or believes, has a way of changing itself in time. Whether it be lengthy, or brief, in such a timeless place as the Shroud? One can never tell just how swiftly tables may turn! So even if you do not give due caution toward the denizens of my homeland, do bear in mind that one rule of survival."

"Check often, lest change come upon you unwary!"

[sliptohk]

Prompt 8: Shed

Any that would find fault with Fen's swift retreat lacked the knowledge of what sort of forgotten creatures lurked within the ancient bogs of the Shroud. Untouched for generations, perhaps longer, it was inevitable one would encounter a beast that they simply had not dealt with before. And in this particular case, the engineer was certain she had never even heard whispered tale of it.

There was something inherently intimidating about a monster so utterly unknown. A lingering question at the back of one's mind if it had never encountered Spoken before, or simply had never left behind one to spread its tale. Only the races of men ever cared about spreading word of their exploits, fighting battles through word and reputation before a fight ever came.

The Lohro could well understand the preferences for autonomy. Though not so enthusiastically when pursued by the unknown.

Slipping through paths she knew well, Fen ducked and bounded, knowing just how those obstacles lay and any potential traps her kin may have left along the path. Ones that the unwelcome stalker merely blundered through without breaking stride. It was clear that the snares and pitfalls were not made for something of its size, or make.

An interesting make at that, something that the inventive mind of the Keeper could not simply ignore. In some ways it resembled some oversized, spiky rodent. Long, sharp spines that clattered against each other like wooden stakes emerging from a central mass she was not at leisure to investigate more closely. Not when the thing was twice her own size, and several times the weight if one could judge by the way it pushed over trees, and crushed fallen logs to splinters beneath heavy steps.

Beneath that clattering, the sound of grinding - undoubtedly some sort of natural armor the creature possessed, likely of the same make as its organic armaments.

Squeezing through the mouth of a narrow cave, the miqo'te paused for breath as the mystery stopped just shy of the entryway itself. Far too large to follow, which was just as well considering Fen carried no torch. While scent and dim moonlight were enough to navigate Shroud nights, even familiar caves were dangerous to navigate with only the meager phosphorescent plant life to vaguely light the way.

Musing over the situation, she ignored the rattling of the creature as she scented the damp air of the cavern for signs of any unseen guests that may have taken up residence since the last visit. There was barely enough time to even content herself before the tone of that rattle changed, drawing the huntress' eyes.

The creature seemed to bulge at where she guessed head or shoulders must rest, before a shivering motion sent those protrusions dancing against each other. Form compacting in the wake of it like the best were working vast lungfuls of air through itself, before they rippled down to the base of its form. A sight that the inventor had never seen before, and thus did not like by any stretch.

Denizens of the forest should operate by a set standard of known behavior!

It wasn't until the first of those spines separated that it became clear just what the pursuer was attempting. A growing pile of long, naturally-formed spears upon the muddy earth. There was a glimpse of those theorized plates beneath as more of its body revealed itself, until even those began to drop away. The crown of the creature rose, extending like the fleshy bits of a mollusk, with significantly more hands than any person Fen had ever known wriggling through the entryway to slap wetly against the rocky walls and ceiling. Tugging itself closer, pulling harder to pass that obstacle.

While its progress was far from imposing, there was no missing the way that hardening shell about its bared limbs was so swiftly taking form. Still malleable in the moment as it moved, pulling itself further as it sloughed off its protective, though clearly renewable, layers in pursuit of her. Undoubtedly for reasons most nefarious, given its ardent pursuit. If it weren't in search of a meal, she would eat her own gloves. The metal ones.

Though observation was tempting, it would be foolish to simply allow that thing to draw any closer when there was still a good deal of cave to flee through. Better to get a head start, rather than make stupid decisions simply to sate idle curiousity. Particularly when it was clear that pace of it ripping itself from its own shell was only growing faster and the unpleasant sucking sound of its own separation filled the cave.

Motion and contemplation were in order. Specifically on just how to kill it, and what it may taste like, if it proved as stubborn a hunter as Keepers were themselves.

[sliptohk]

FFXIV 2023 Prompt Masterlist

Hello, 2023 challenge. And farewell.

Prompt #1: Envoy (Abadi Clan)

Prompt #2: Bark (Qata Ooja)

Prompt #3: Bonus Prompt - Fight (Qata Ooja)

Prompt #4: Off The Hook (Katja Revel)

Prompt #5: Barbarous (Katja Revel)

Prompt #6: Ring (Abadi Clan)

Prompt #7: Noisome (Shezrah Abadi)

Prompt #8: Shed (Fen Lohro)

Prompt #9: Fair (Katja Revel)

Prompt #10: Bonus Prompt - One Didn't Know It Was A Date (Shezrah Abadi)

Prompt #11: Once Bitten Twice Shy (Qata Ooja)

Prompt #12: Dowdy (Katja Revel & Family)

Prompt #13: Check (Fen Lohro)

Prompt #14: Clear (Gerlach Revel)

Prompt #15: Portentous (Gerlach Revel)

Prompt #16: Jerk (Shezrah Abadi)

Prompt #17: Bonus Prompt - Guilt (Katja Revel)

Prompt #18: Fish Out Of Water (Katja Revel)

Prompt #19: Weal (Qata Ooja)

Prompt #20: Hamper (Wazo Revel)

Prompt #21: Grave (Katja Revel)

Prompt #22: Fulsome (Fen Lohro)

Prompt #23: Suit (Shezrah Abadi)

Prompt #24: Bonus Prompt - I Can't Wait To Go Home And Play This New Tomestone Game... (Fen Lohro & Qata Ooja)

Prompt #25: Call It A Day (Katja Revel)

Prompt #26: Last (Fen Lohro & Qata Ooja)

Prompt #27: Sole (Abadi Clan)

Prompt #28: Blunt (Katja Revel)

Prompt #29: Contravention (Wazo Revel)

Prompt #30: Amity (Fen Lohro & Qata Ooja)

[sliptohk]

Prompt #4: Unhinged

((Guest prompt by @chocolatebunnycake !))

"This was your solution?"

"Simple problem, simple solution!"

"Which part of my request to resolve the many robberies of my store gave you reason to think this would fix that?"

"I installed a plethora of traps! No intruder could go more than a step without triggering some sort of painful jolt or iron-clad cage!"

"But... why did you remove the door?"

"Replacing doors is woefully expensive. And time-consuming! If they plan to break down the door then simply let them stroll in without that added cost. Do you have any idea how many I have seen need to repair myself since opening my shop? It all adds up!"

"I wouldn't dare to even guess."

"In either case, if there is no door to batter down then the thieves will simply wander in, traipsing about on my cunningly hidden works."

"But the door is gone! How would I keep my normal customers from coming in after hours?” Squeezing the palms of both hands to his eyes, the Lalafel shook his head, “Why do I even entertain this line of discussion? Please, Fen, return the door to its rightful spot."

Blowing out a rough breath, the red-haired Keeper threw up both hands, “That is precisely what they want you to do! This is why your store keeps getting robbed, Chehafa!"

[sliptohk]

Prompt #11: Sapid

((Thanks to @idanwyn-et-al for this extra credit suggestion!))

There were times that Fen cursed the sensitivity of her nose, the vast majority of them not having arisen until she opened her shop within Ul'dah and was subject to the overwhelming mix carried by the masses moving about the city. Even with her nocturnal schedule there always seemed to be somebody about. Though the later it got, the more drunken those travelers tended to be. Though in the early morning, when most were just starting to prepare for evening, she found it far easier to skip the lengthy lines outside of her favorite shops, or food stands.

It was well worth the discomfort some particularly ill-thought blends caused.

With a fresh trip complete, she carried several boxes of still warm pastries back to the forge with her. Locks were set and traps armed though after the first two would-be thieves no more had gathered the courage to test her defenses again.

"Ah, that aroma!"

Such simple packaging could hardly mask the scent, so after neatly stacking the rest of her fresh trove upon the desk she plucked out three to tear into. Some had warned her about eating too near to bedtime, but thus far the brawny engineer had never had any particularly trying experiences after indulging. With flaky, browned pastry in hand and a variety of sweet jellies crowning the first two, she was focused on indulging in earnest. And with each one larger than the palm of her hand there was a good deal of it to enjoy.

"I have waited far too long to spend time with you, sweet ones!"

There was little need to dissect the food, quite capable of identifying the ingredients through scent alone, but it was a habit she had long possessed. Tearing little bits of crust off to pop in her mouth or other parts with the fruit topping. Enjoying a taste of each component of that treat before taking bits comprising all of them. This first was made with a browned butter and hint of almond to the dough. The topping made of rolanberry reduced into a thicker, sticky consistency with a touch of lemon and a good deal of sugar. Second at hand was quite similar, though without that faint nuttiness of browned butter that immediately leapt out to the Keeper's tongue. Lemon custard replacing the fruit from the previous to leave a far more tart flavor lingering in the mouth.

As all Lohro, Fen had a weakness for all things sweet with their homeland bearing precious few fruits to sate that craving. And as such, her final choice was by far the most decadent. A fat cinnamon roll, though lacking the glaze other patisseries tended to favor. No, this one was thickly frosted on top with a dense cinnamon coating. Slivered nuts sprinkled over top. It was considerably harder for her to pick it apart, but it elicited no complaints as she wolfed down the final one she had portioned out for herself that evening. Those waiting boxes called to her, but the smith possessed will enough to resist their call for a good day's sleep.

Especially when that smell so close would ensure only the sweetest of dreams.

[sliptohk]

Fen’s Campfire Tale

((Figured I’d post this here as well as I wrote it out for a Discord campfire story prompt!))

A story? I have many of them! Do you wish to hear a lesson of the Lohro, or of a personal encounter?

My own experience! Excellent. It was a moonless night, the very worst kind, and I was working diligently in my forge. Though I hold no great fear of darkness, there are things within the Shroud that fear the eye of the Mother upon them. Some are more clever than others.

I heard a mix between knock and scratch at the door. As if some bony knuckle was dragging itself along the wood. An oddity of its own as my kin are not given to gentle rapping before interrupting my work. But as the only exit from my workshop within the hollowed earth, there was no slipping away. Truth told I was surprised they found the entrance at all!

The Lohro do not take visitors lightly on the best of days, and the smell of the marsh was strong as I moved to see who intruded. Though it would anger my grandmother, I drew back the door with an eye toward the wet streak running down the resistent lumber and the sopping wet figure stood before me.

It was readily apparent from their appearance that my caller was not as they appeared. Some faint effort had been made to adopt the appearance of my youngest sister, Nefalia, however it was lacking. A pallid grey, lighter than myself by a good deal, and significantly distant from the lovely chestnut tone the mother gifted her. Faded blue eyes gazed upon me as if waiting for some word to escape me. Likely of welcome, some reflexive invitation into my forge. It would not be offered! Who would be fool enough to mistake this shoddy facsimile for their true kin?

"Its cold, sister. Please let me warm myself by the fire."

With hands on hips, I faced this creature. Long, dark locks flowed down its back and slithered out into the darkness beyond the reach of the stoked flame behind me. Tattered remnants of some garb alien to our people, akin to the garments foreign traders favored when traveling through the swamps. Were I more aware of meaningless fashion there might have been something relevant to the apparel, but I have never held such interests! For the moment, I held my tongue. When dealing with unknown creatures it was best not to engage them.

Yes, I realize this is a foolish thing to say when I had already chosen to open the door!

Regardless of any error in that judgement, I would not repeat it! My treated lens was held firmly in place over my eye, I harbored no interest in seeing what twisted mass of aether might make up my visitor, and my wordless gaze stayed fixed upon it.

"I hunger, sister. Please hunt me something to eat."

While the claim of coldness might well have been a ruse, it was quite clear hunger was not. Frothing, dripping spittle hung in long strands from the sides of its mouth. Fingers curled and relaxed in sporadic motion as if it were only just managing to keep from snatching out for me. Yet there its gangrenous feet stayed. Bare, but flush with the threshold between swamp and workshop. Not even a fraction of an ilm between it and the wood lining the bottom of the frame.

Once more, and quite against my nature, I held silent. There was much I wished to say, some flippant, arrogant dismissal of their presence and a call to leave my presence. But as I said, the beings of the swamp do not always find themselves bound to the rational behavior of our fellow spoken!

"I am lonely, sister. Please let me sit with you."

There was a pause, but soon it spoke again. The rhythm breaking in its pleas, though I could not say what it might portend. Only that patterns give some sense of safety to me. Something fathomable. I do not like not knowing things!

"Perhaps your sisters will prove more soft-hearted."

Sucking sounds of footsteps through sodden earth announced its movement, drool still spilling from its mouth and the faintest hint of those wrong-toned eyes peering back at me as the being began to depart. It clearly knew the ruse had failed, quite spectacularly, but what purpose did such a taunt serve? Did it expect me to flee back to the canopy to warn my kin of its presence in the night? Though we Keepers do not fear the dark, it is inauspicious to move about without Mother looking down with loving regard. I well knew they would be about more mundane tasks. Sewing and mending, fletching and teaching. Only my workshop set apart from the comfort of our home. Several fires too many had seen to that!

Bog wraiths so rarely left the sinkholes that held the decaying form of unlucky travelers, not even to speak of their stubborn insistence on retaining their original appearance. They did not hunt out new victims to take their place in the muck, simply beckoned to those who drew near. Was this some new being then? Perhaps Cholm would know, as attuned to the swampland as she was.

But answers would not come that night. While wordlessly shutting the door once again, there was no missing the flicker of faded blue eyes peering back at me. Some luminescence to them as they peered from behind a tree. Another set from between the fronds of a slowly swaying plant. Several others perched upon branches or gazed up from just above the level of the water about me. It was quite likely there were yet more that were out of sight, particularly when there was a quiet creak from above as something moved about on the earth covered arc of wood that served as my ceiling.

I would not be traveling that night. Trying to return to my work until daylight could banish whatever had chosen to assail me in my solitude, it proved difficult to concentrate as more of those dragging knocks sounded at the door not long after it was shut.

And against the frame above, as they peeled back the camouflaging loam to scratch and slobber over the thought of me.

[sliptohk]

Prompt #29: Fuse

"It does not take! What am I missing? Why do I yet fail?!"

Lehz pounded a fist against the most recent lens they had treated, shattering it to pieces before snatching up the small pot of formula. Some wild part of her encouraging the Keeper to hurl it to the ground. Out to the swamp far below. Destroy it, remove it, hide the shame of her failure before others could tell. Yet how would they? Save for Fen, none of her kin were near gifted enough to even know what they held in their hands. And even that red-haired youth lacked the depth of knowledge required to recreate it. Improve it.

Even now, they stood to one side, doing their best to be attentive while also struggling to stand apart. Not willing to incite her grandmother's fury by drawing their attention even as their stance clearly indicated they wished to say something. Add some word or insight that Lehz might have missed, or not considered. It infuriated the alchemist, both that they were so arrogant to think they could teach her a lesson, as well as realizing that another of those dark moods had descended upon her.

Yet another of her failings, as she struggled to control herself. She had promised Cholm she would be better, but it was so abysmally difficult to make good on that promise. Difficult to control some sudden surge of emotion. They managed not to spit out the words, or bare their teeth in a vicious snarl as the elder looked toward her young protege.

"Out with it! Do not squirm, you are Lohro not a worm!"

It was not so gentle as intended, only serving to increase the mixologist's frustrations. At least this was a flare directed toward herself, though she knew that hardly made them any more endearing to their kin.

Fen did not speak to Lehz the way she would her sisters, that much was readily apparent from the glimpses she had caught of the cavorting swarm when they were not put to separate tasks. They spoke more freely, more animated, and it sent a cold chill through the reclusive Keeper at the thought. Blood of her blood, would they become like her with age? She had never been so friendly, save for with her beloved sister Ze. Just the memory of it sending a guilty jab through the gut at the reminder she was no longer with them.

No, this one would never be like her. A promise they always made, yet always found themselves dragging the youth back in to assist with their experimentation. Willpower crumbled before the reality that her granddaughter served as the most competent assistant. And what value was she to her family without that work?

Distracted as she was, the racing thoughts nearly washed away the words that were spoken clearly and swiftly. Fen well knew of their elder's impatience and expressed themselves accordingly.

"The lens might be too stiff. Unyielding. Something more absorbent would better drink in your concoction, grandmother."

A brief pause as it was considered. Some measure of it rang true, had they managed to treat material before making the lens would that have worked better than doing so after it was already formed? Some sort of animal skin may properly draw in the mixture, yet many in their homeland were naturally repellent of liquid. Looking down toward Fen, she began to pace as considerations were brought to mind and discarded, shooting the occasional glance down toward the youth. Catching their gaze.

Marking their eyes unconsciously, before the reality of their appraisal crashed down on them.

This must not be done. The others would never forgive such a thing, one did not do such things to family. Yet even while her mind rejected the suggestion and railed against the very thought of committing such an act, her hand was already moving. Raising the small pot with one hand while gripping Fen's chin with the other to tilt their head back.

"It will work."

Hands gripped Lehz's wrist and forearm, but they made no motion to break that hold. That unbroken fragment of the alchemist rejected this course, but the other pieces had to know. And with the look she received in turn it was clear that Fen shared that burning desire to learn what their work would yet yield. A few drops was all it took before a silvery sheen began to spread across the Keeper's right eye, fading the red of their iris. Had they blinded her?

"I see it, Grandmother. In all their swelling strength and fading thinness."

Tears were falling from that changed eye, pupil following something that Lehz could not see. No. Not blind.

"An accident. This was an accident! My sisters can never know what we have done!" What I have done. "Your aunts. Sisters. Mother! Look what we have managed, granddaughter! Imagine what more we can do?"

"Accident." Sweat was beading on their forehead, a sickly tint rising in their face, "Its not dwindling. It makes me dizzy. Swirling."

Turning about the shop in a burst of inspiration, Lehz snatched up an earlier failure. A circular lens made of darkened glass, pressing it over that newly mismatched eye. It seemed to do the trick, aether-null material blocking that disorienting riot of color that only the youth could see.

"This. For now. Only for now. We have time to fix this! I can fix this."

[sliptohk]

Prompt 22: Veracity

Nefalia stared up into her older sister's face, maintaining that look of wide-eyed innocence that worked so well for her in the past. Hands lightly clasped before her as a wide smile crossed her face.

"Hello, sister!"

Fen squinted down at the young miqo'te, the faint light of the moon turning her silvered eye completely reflective as they quite clearly were gauging them on sight alone. Hands resting on her hips and one foot tapping out a slow rhythm that only occurred when she was either impatient, or annoyed. And the inventor was pretty frequently impatient.

"Nef, my lovely, did you happen to get into the cupboards during the daylight hours?" Leaning closer, she sniffed slightly, trying to catch a whiff of anything incriminating on her youngest sister's breath. "Maybe someone sweet, crunchy, and overall delicious?"

Immediately, she stuck out her hands, "I want some! Where is it?"

That might have been a bit more put on than intended. But at least for the moment, there was nothing to point to her as the culprit. She was not so foolish as to stuff her face with ill-gotten goods mere moments after swiping them! Especially not with such sharp-nosed kin sharing the same living space.

Content in her cleverness, she found herself caught quite off guard by the sudden thumping sound of Ghemala strolling along the walkway behind her. A cheery note in her own voice as she held up a small pouch in one hand with a little wiggle.

"Fen! Look what I found in the hollow! What coincidence, its similar to what you said you had lost!"

Too short to make a grab for it, Nefalia struggled not to kick her blood-sister in the shins for foiling the caper. The simple fact that the vapid huntress would fail to understand exactly what earned it was one part. A second, larger point, was that Fen would quite clearly understand what drew that reaction. At least nothing incriminated her, though there was no way the tinker would remotely believe there was any coincidence at play.

Plucking that small bag from Ghemala's hand, she opened it to get a look at the contents, before offering a sharp nod.

"Good. This is going somewhere a bit more secure." Turning, she shot a side eye toward the youngest among them, "Somewhere a bit higher up."

Nuts.

[sliptohk]

Prompt #17: Novel

Something had seemed off about the Keeper that came strolling into the shop, Fen's ears laying flat in response to their arrival. With a darker grey cast to her skin than the Lohro engineer, green hair, and those piercing violet eyes the robed figure reminded them of the deadly Ooja of her homeland. Saying nothing of the tattoos dancing across their face. Though why would come to Ul'dah? They never left their hunting grounds, unless it were to raid a merchant or beat back a rival tribe.

Such thoughts were not in Qata's mind. Tasked as she and her sister Zahrah had been with tracking the departing Lohro to the city, she had never truly bothered to learn anything of just what Fen might look like aside from her name. And even that was of minor importance when the grand metropolis they had founds themselves in had so many different things to offer for her studies.

Lifting a finger, she chirped excitedly to the shopkeeper in the common tongue. The accent on her words odd, though largely due to the most recent testing still roaring through her veins. Not that the other miqo'te would be aware of that,  "I have been told you can craft any number of custom creations! I require a triple reserve alembic. The offerings on display here are simply not good enough!"

Fen cocked her head to one side, ears raising again at the request. Glass work was not her forte, but she was familiar enough with the art of alchemy to follow what was asked to some degree. And she had never had need to create one as this fellow Keeper was requesting. Folding muscular forearms on top of her desk, the inventor fixed Qata with her mismatched gaze. That one red-eye and the other silvered behind the darkened lenses of her goggles.

"What would the nature of these reserves be? It would be difficult to control the separation of whatever you seek to distill unless their compositions are wholly dissimilar. Just where might these additional vessels be positioned?"

The already enthusiastic poisoner clapped her hands together, descriptions came so much simpler when the other participant in the conversation had even the vaguest concept of just what was being presented to them!

"Correct! My ingredient has three distinct aspects! I require a collection of the vapors, so there simply must be a vessel on top to see it properly separated from the main chamber! A second nearer to the bottom to collect the denser components - if separated properly there ought to be a piece that sinks in water whilst the other collects at the top like algae!"

Wariness drifted away as the project became the centerpoint of Fen's focus. Qata never possessed any to dispel. "Why do you need a third collection? If the first is vapor and the second so dense why do you not simply seek to separate those and then leave this film in the main chamber for collection?"

Qata let out a shocked gasp, as if she had just been slapped in the face! "But the purity! No, no, they simply must be wholly separated from the other. Anything left in the main chamber shall be discarded if it cannot be definitively separated!"

Already the engineer was nodding, a finger tapping steadily against her forearm as an image began to form in her mind, "Yes, yes, a narrower chamber, then. Three chamber with a valve to ensure they can be sealed independently and removable, I would think. This would reduce the chances of contamination of your samples."

Reaching for a piece of paper, she hurriedly scratched out a quick sketch, before spinning it on the table to show right-side up to the eager alchemist leaning over the desk to get a good glimpse of it herself. It was a simple enough design, though a bit fragile. Bits of metal and glass outlined where they could screw into the alembic and the bi-valve system to ensure that both the receiving vessel and processing one could be independently tightened. Taller and more narrow than a standard alembic, the bulkiness of the design was displeasing. It would require further iterations.

All the same, it was a good starting concept, "Like this, then? I set the tertiary valve lower, as I do not know just how large a sample you might work with. Once you boil and separate enough of the densest distillation then you can simply tighten the valve to ensure you collect as much as you wish of the second. If this suits your needs then I shall get to work on refining the design. If not, then provide me more detail on the nature of this mixture and I shall amend the structure."

They went back and forth for bells, the occasional customer stepping in and quickly being dealt with so Lohro and Ooja could return to their discussion on just what Qata was looking to have completed. When finally they were both satisfied, Fen leaned back to watch her newest customer depart with only one thought at the forefront of her mind.

That is definitely an Ooja tribeswoman.

Outside, no such thoughts were going through Qata's head. At least not until she heard an angry hiss and felt the sharp pinch of fingers on one of her ears as Zahrah leaned in to curse at her under her breath.

"Why did you stroll into the Lohro's shop, you twit!"

Blinking owlishly, but otherwise wholly indifferent to this piece of information, the shorter miqo'te only offered, "She was a Lohro?"

[sliptohk]

Prompt #3: Muster

No huntress would ever mistake the twang of string as a shot released, though the sudden scream of pain that came right on its heels had Fen moving before a thought could form. The chitter and croak of the night quieted in response to the bounding miqo'te as she raced along those treetop paths the Lohro had marked out branch by branch, dexterous feet nearly silent even as the slap and rustle of leaves announced her movements through the darkness.

The source was easy enough to spot, Ahchaka pushing herself back against the trunk of a tree as tightly as she could manage upon one of its gnarled limbs, the scent of blood in the air from the arrow buried in her hip and the fluttering light from a torch held aloft by a leering pair below. A fresh twang followed by a loud thunk as a second arrow buried itself deeply into the bottom of the branch her sister was using for cover. An unwelcome thought wriggled into her mind even as that continued torment of the Keeper's kin sent her into action.

"Take a peek, kitten! Got somefin' ta show ye!"

Quivermen?

Unlikely, but even as her mind was taking in the appearance of the two, Fen had leapt from her perch with feet extended. Neither the hyur holding the torch, nor their elezen friend, seemed to hear the snapping of twigs as they tore into grey skin with her passing. They did seem to hear the audible crash of the tall miqo'te dropping the entirety of her weight on the elezen's upper back, riding him facefirst into the rocky earth. Her ambush had the desired result as the man holding that torch hesitated just long enough for the huntress to lunge forward off his dazed companion with a fist swinging even as her body lowered. Though certainly no warrior, the miqo'te's grandmother had ensured that all her grandchildren knew how to fight.

Albeit not in the honorable way of knights.

A heavy thud sounded as her balled fist slammed directly up into the hyur's groin, doubling him over with a gasped breath in a perfectly welcome way for the incensed older sister to snatch the front of his tunic. That fist turned into a grasping hand as she made no effort to keep her sharp claws from digging into the squishy handhold she grabbed between his legs, bodily lifting him to slam headfirst against an obstinate oak tree. Despite adrenaline urging her to action rather than thought, the sudden consideration that revealing herself was unwise forced itself to the forefront of her mind. Snatching the fallen torch, she hurled it out to hiss and bubble in the murky waters further out even as the two battered unknowns groaned and stirred. Slipping into their tongue, Fen spared a quick glance up toward the shape huddled against the tree.

<Are there more?>

The response was short, the hisses in their dialect coming tinged with pain, <West.>

Drawing her hunting knife, the Keeper sliced through the strings of those intruders' bows before stealing the arrows from their quivers without a glance. Scrambling quickly back up the tree, she swung herself onto the limb Ahchaka waited on, eyes fixed on the arrow sticking from her younger sister's side even as the argument she knew would happen had begun.

<Leave it.>

<Need to snap it shorter. Do you want it to hit every branch and tear your insides?>

An angry rumble began in the back of the wounded miqo'te's throat, promptly ignored as Fen gripped the shaft between calloused hands and quickly gave it a rough jerk before her sibling could interfere. Though she kept it as steady as possible, there was no escaping the swallowed squeal of discomfort as it shifted the arrowhead with the snap of breaking wood.

<Calm. Calm.>

Slipping free her bow and quiver, Fen hooked them across her kin's back before turning to bodily lift her blessedly smaller sister up onto her. Feet shifting awkwardly as she adjusted herself and quickly tied Ahchaka's knees high around her waist with a length of rope, even as a fresh sound of pained complaint answered that unwelcome movement of her leg. As if matters were not complicated enough, the shuffle and cursing of the downed trespassers rose from beneath them.

<This will be unpleasant for us both, sister.>

Spittle struck the back of her neck as the sour response hissing forth, <I can just imagine how painful this is for you!>

Pulling Ahchaka's hood lower to shield them from scratching branches, Fen shifted about to get a good feel for the weight of the piggybacking wounded. Not for too long, of course, as those rough voices began again and she sprang back along the path she had taken in the first place.

"Where... m'bleedin' jubblies... where th' swivin' 'ells did that couerl get off ta?!"

"Ain't seein' nothin'! Light yer torch, mate! Th' boss ain't said nothin' 'bout this bein' Keeper lands!"

A detail filed away for later as there was no silence to Fen's movement. Her first leap drawing a warning creak from the nearest branch that swiftly drew attention from below, though the huntress had no intention of staying long enough to find out just what they spoke of. Powerful muscles strained with each movement, adrenaline running through her veins as she moved with only her steady breathing and the occasional whimper or whine from behind her. It was best not to consider that they had malms to go through the winding marks in the canopy, particularly since her legs were swiftly burning from the extra effort.

Huffing to herself, Fen began to sing lowly, just a simple tune Ze had written for them seasons past, once she deemed enough space had opened between them and potential pursuit. Intentionally taking routes across the waters to leave that fumbling pair lost in the darkness of the swamp, unless they were lucky enough to have packed additional torches.

<Dance beneath my light, o daughters, course within my shade. Though my face may dim and darken, my love shall never fade.

Wander in my name, o sons, that long and lonesome road. Ever 'neath my adoring gaze, you never walk alone.

Sing for me, my blessed children, mother hears your call. Live for thee, beloved, my chosen, with arms entwined stand tall.

Mourn with me those you have lost, but fear not your hunt's end. Know that those who once you loved, shall embrace you once again.>

<Why are you singing about death?!>

An angry chirp echoed in her ear, before Ahchaka had the audacity to bite it! Flicking her poor ear away from a second nip, the elder sister let out a grunt. Or at least as much of one as she would spare given the desparate need for more air in her lungs.

<Its not about death! Its about life!>

<It ends in death.>

<So does life!>

<Ze sang it better too.>

<Then you sing it!>

There was a brief pause, before blessedly Ahchaka began to sing something of her own. Arguments and song providing a welcome distraction from the physical discomfort the two struggled on through.

<The bandit swore, 'this is my land', and shook his iron hand. Horned children cried, 'this shall not stand', and chased with burning brand.

But in her tree, the Lohro smirked, and drew bow until it creaked. It struck true and each one jerked, as it sank into rear cheeks!>

A breathy laugh escaped the huntress, pausing longer between each jump to marshal strength in her shuddering legs, <So you complain about my song, then sing about filling people with arrows?>

A faint snort answered, <Its fine if its people that are not me.>

The two continued back and forth as they always had, complaining about the others singing voice or choice in song. Corrected lyrics and the occasional personal jab to help them ignore the fact that Fen could feel her sister's blood running down her arm and Ahchaka felt sweat soaking through the back of her kin's back as each leap had her shivering and gasping for more breath before she sang and jumped forward once more. It was with great relief that they finally reached the final destination. Legs turned to jelly as they loudly scuffed and climbed until a plank came into reach at last. Digging in her fingers, Fen dragged herself up high enough to crawl onto solid ground.

Singing back and forth poorer than ever until their family scented blood on the air and came running to carry them to the sleeping hut.

<My songs were better.>

<Not when you sing them.>

[sliptohk]

Prompt #8: Clamor

Biting back a yawn, Fen dropped her hammer down to the bench with a thud and dragged herself over to the deep barrel of water beside her forge. Without hesitation, she dunked her head in, letting herself soak for as long as her breath held before ripping back out with a spray behind her as long braids swung with that clatter of bone charms against each other. The heavy leather apron came free first to thump against the floor, before she began to draw off her sweat stained garments from the long night of work past. Tendrils of dawn beginning to peak beneath the doorframe, despite her efforts to blacken out all the windows in the little shop.

"Azeyma's burning tits, why can it not just rain here through the daylight hours..."

Calloused fingers snatched up a bucket to fill and upend over herself, not stopping until her grey skin ran clean of sweat and grime beneath the sensitive sniffs she took of herself. It would have nice if that bare wetness had sent a shiver through her, but the sunkissed city so rarely was cool enough to even tickle her skin much less cover it with goosebumps. Whipping up the top layer of furs she had bundled together as bedding, she nestled in with that comforting sensation of ice shards sandwiched between the layers. If this city would not have the good decency to be cool enough for her liking, then she would ensure her bed did at least!

Scarce moments had passed after her eyes had closed before the sounds of a waking city began to filter through the door. Street hawkers shouting out their wares, whatsoever they might be, and the rising sound of arguments as unfriendly neighbors down Pearl Lane awoke to find they were still unfriendly neighbors in the morning. Pulling down harder and harder on her precious coverings until she feared they might tear, Fen rumbled a low, angry sound from the depths of her chest.

"Why can't you all keep normal hours like good folks!"

[sliptohk]

Prompt# 21: Foibles

"Stop it."

Fen looked up from her meal, fingers having already torn the dumpling apart to better investigate the sights and smells of what was hidden within the dough. She lofted an eyebrow, a better means of conveying that quizzical expression with dark lenses covering the question in her eyes.

"What are you telling me to stop?" She popped one half of the eviscerated bundle into her mouth to chew on.

The hyur gave an encompassing wave of her hand toward the plate set out in front of the Keeper. She had already made something of a mess of it, tearing apart each bit of food on it to savor the individual components, before recombining them once again to test with a single bite. Nothing all that extra-ordinary as far as she was aware.

"Eating like a wild beast! You have silverware, there's no need to run your hands over everything you intend to consume like some mannerless wildling! Just enjoy the meal as the chef intended, not torn apart like jackals about a fresh carcass!"

It was miserably hot, but the fan this strange woman fluttered back and forth before her face as she spoke was not likely to do much to relieve it. The huntress just gave a lazy shrug of her shoulders before spearing one intact dumpling with the end of a thick, razor-sharp nail, sticking it into her mouth whole as the juice leaked down her finger.

"Nonsense, keep your little trinkets. I fully intend to enjoy these strange things in part and total!"

Lifting a slice of chocolate torte in hand, Fen crammed it fully into her mouth to chew on slowly. Pointedly ignoring the words of whatever self appointed manners enforcer had been seated next to her. It would prove to be a long meal for them, as the Keeper's prodigious appetite for new foods, and abundant sweets, saw her massacre every other plate laid before her despite the indignant huffs and disdained sniffs coming from the other table.