#Ghoa Mankhad

[anchor-management]

C&F: Corruption Arc

Featuring: @sea-and-storm [Ghoa Mankhad], @shaelstormchild [Shael Stormchild], @anchor-management [Anchor Saltborn] and [Brick], @afreesworn [Nabi Kharlu] and [Roen Deneith], @sentryandco [Egil Nylor] and [Estrid Nylor] + ∞ NPCs, @tribblesfuriousart [Buoy Saltborn] [Diya-something-or-other], @banquoviaquo [Gideon North], [Orfeuille], [Luri Kai].

Until Dashboard format isn't borked, you can view full post formatted correctly here.

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The group's search for answers has taken them from The Far East, to the shores of Vylbrand. Their continued research into corrupted aether leads them to investigate a reclusive "Doctor Nylor", a name given by an ailing man--Abner Funk--that had a curious and yet similar sickness as Anchor during a visit to The Salt Strand.

Things quickly go wrong when the group splits to investigate the lead on two different fronts: Nabi and Ghoa devise a plan to infiltrate a theatre posing as entertainers, while Anchor and Shael travel to Upper La Noscea to follow a lead concerning the doctor's apparent employment of ailing individuals.

Separated and without contact due to a number of troubling circumstances, multiple plans fall into action over the course of the following days--with the help of some allies and friends in the midst--all eventually converging on Doctor Nylor's residence.

Of course, no amount of planning could prepare them for what surprises lay in wait...

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Some closer-ups.

This pic took entirely too long to do. That is all.

Oh, just that and the fact I appreciate the people involved in this ongoing story of stories. It's been years actual years and that is pretty cool.

[afreesworn]

Ghoa and Shael

Two mighty fine ladies!

@britishmuffin completely blew me away with this picture of Ghoa and Shael. From Shael's perfect attitude and badassery to Ghoa's stunning beauty that just barely hides her inner strength, I am flabbergasted.

THANK YOU SO MUCH MUFFIN!!! Your art is always SO wonderful!

Featuring @jaliqai-and-company and @shaelstormchild 's LOVELY characters that Nabi is so lucky to know.

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #6: Onerous (Arukh)

To say that Arukh felt out of place walking amongst the seaside caverns of the Mankhadi udgan and their apprentices was but an understatement of woeful proportion.

Not only had it been the better part of two decades since last he had set foot upon his own people's lands, but even before his Choosing, he had never once walked these hallowed seaside corridors of stone and salt. None did, save for the Storm and the Sea's children. Such was a privilege - or a sentence - afforded only to those like his sister, favored by their gods. 

Occasionally, others of means were allowed brief entry when the need to consult with the tribe's advisors and lorekeepers arose. The khan of the Shuurga, for one, but never those of simpler origins such as himself. So whenever he had received the summons to speak directly with the Elder Stormcaller in her own Cloister, Arukh had been shocked.. but not exactly humbled by the invitation, for a host of his own personal reasons and misgivings.

He carried himself with spine straight and rigid as the well-worn blade he had been asked to leave behind before entry would be permitted. His face was a careful mask of neutrality, but the whitening of his scarred knuckles as his hands tightened into fists at his side might have betrayed more emotion than he wished. Not to mention the occasional thrash of the darkly scaled tail that followed in his wake.

If the older man next to him noticed the signs of his irritation, however, naught was said of it. Such was the way of him, as Arukh recalled, never one wont to invoke any manner of unnecessary conflict. Baidu Khan of the Shuurga had led his people through countless storms in his years, ever the steady hand that guided the clan through choppy waters but never the one to rock the boat upon which they sailed. 

When Arukh had been but a fresh-faced boy, he had admired Baidu's placid and measured carriage, every bit the image of the calm that lie within the Storm's eye. The Shuurga had always treated him with great respect and reverence precisely because of his even-keeled temper and his wisdom. 

Amongst the Kharlu, however, he'd heard no few cruel jests and insults levied at his former leader. Baidu the Coward, as he had heard the Kharlu warriors refer to him on no few occasions, was but the most mild of monikers of which he had learned. Such had irked him, but none had incensed him as much as hearing him denigrated and derided as Bayanbataar's most fruitful whore by one of the Kharlu fighters that had sought to get a rise out of him. 

He's given the Khan more children than all his wives combined, the man had sneered as he had poked and prodded for chinks in Arukh's normally impregnable, icy armor. Weak though they are, at least they're good to fall upon the sword in his true childrens' stead.

Arukh wasn't proud of the fact that the man had successfully found a weak spot that cracked his carefully maintained mask of detached apathy. He was proud, however, that he had handily laid his harasser out cold in the dirt in front of his own kin, and left him with a few less teeth in his head besides. 

As he fixed Baidu with a sidelong glance of his seaglass eyes, the battle-scarred warrior wondered if those same jeers had ever crossed the coastlands' winds back to his ears. He wasn't sure that even if they had, that the Mankhadi Khan would have done more than accept them in his usual silence. Worse, Arukh didn't know after having spent so much time amongst the Kharlu where might made right, if the thought of him turning the other cheek to the insult impressed him with Baidu's unflappability or disappointed him for its passivity. 

 "The Elder Stormcaller rarely leaves the Cloister these days," he explained as he escorted Arukh through the winding corridors carved out naturally by thousands of years of sea’s ingress. "Age catches up with her and her health is declining, which is why she has asked you come to her instead of answering your summons. I pray you will not take her request as a slight."

Something about the explanation and roundabout apology struck him, though it took a moment for him to place his thumb on the discomfort's source. It was that he spoke to Arukh with the same cool, careful deference that was normally reserved for the Kharlu anytime they descended upon their camp. Realizing that the other man viewed him now not as a former clansman sharing the bond of blood but as one of their brutal protectors that expected submission made Arukh’s stomach churn uneasily. 

Now it suddenly made much more sense why Baidu Khan himself had seen fit to guide him, rather than one of the handful of young apprentice udgan now quickly scurrying out of their way. The last Baidu had seen Arukh had been when he had been surrendered to the Kharlu, and surely he had never expected to see him returned. That he was here again now so many years later must’ve made clear that he had earned his place amongst them, rising from his former slavehood by merit of ferocity. The Kharlu considered him as one of their ilk now, even if he knew they would always view him as lesser. And considering that he had not shared the reason of his calling, the shrewd Khan would naturally be left with only the assumption that Arukh was here on their protector tribe’s behalf than a matter far more personal. 

His mouth opened at once to correct those surmised assumptions that Arukh suspected Baidu of harboring, but stopped short. He could not – would not – admit that he had come here upon Ghoa’s request to relay her messages. 

No one besides those she had tasked him with reaching could know that Bayanbataar’s Escaped Wife not only lived, but had recently set foot upon coastland soil once more. None could know that she sought to return one day besides. If word were to somehow make its way back to the Kharlu Khan’s ear, his unrelenting hunt for his sister would assuredly alight with renewed intensity fueled by more than a decade’s worth of pent up cruelty and frustration. The Far East had likewise become far easier to traverse in the wake of the defeat of the iron men of Garlemald than it had been when Ghoa had first fled, and so Arukh doubted not that Bayanbataar would send his finest trackers even beyond the Steppe’s furthest borders in pursuit of his greatest humiliation if given the chance.

The already tight fists at his side only tightened further with the knowledge that he could offer no reassurance to Baidu of his intentions without arousing suspicion. It kindled anger within his breast, to know that he would have to continue playing the role of the Kharlu envoy rather than that of the long-lost son of the sea returning to the shores of home. That he would have to endure being treated as an unwanted, untrusted stranger in his own homeland.

What an onerous duty this had suddenly become.. but one he certainly could not begrudge Ghoa for asking. Until Arukh could bring peace to these lands to clear the way for her safe return, it was the least she deserved.

“Elder Unegen,” Baidu announced as the pair reached the corridor’s end, opening into a wide cavernous cove that echoed with the soft churning of the waters pooled at its center and the ever-present drip of moisture off stone that would’ve driven Arukh mad to endure days in and days out. “Arukh Kharlu answers your summons, if you would kindly receive him.”

[sentryandco]

#1: Crux

For as long as he could remember, Arasen knew he was destined for something important. He had prepared himself for it. He had prayed to the gods that when the time came, he would be worthy of the path that would reveal itself to him.

Then when the horrific visions came of the futures that could be, Arasen was nearly undone by the terrors that visited him every time he closed his eyes. But he didn’t bemoan that the gift of Sight was truly just a curse that no longer allowed him to see beyond the suffering that lay ahead. Instead, he persevered, escaping the precipice of insanity from the sleepiness nights and overwhelming despair. He had to learn that compassion and mercy had no place in his life, for if he was to walk the path that would lead to the salvation of all, he couldn’t afford any distractions that could detract him from his goal. He would fulfill his duty by any means necessary, truthfulness and happiness be damned.

And now, within the bowels of the earth beneath the ancient ruins that held powers capable of granting his ultimate wish, it was here that Arasen saw his destiny. This was where his years of torment and nightmares would end, where the prophecy of the Lost Daughter would be finally fulfilled.

Only, there were two paths that await him.

The first choice was the obvious one. It was what he had been working for, his years of machinations finally bearing fruit. The Lost Daughter had been found, and she had been brought to the altar of the ancients, where her blood and soul would give life to the god that slept. He needed only to nudge the tides of battle in favor of the black irises, so that they would take what is rightfully theirs, and awaken the nameless entity that slumbered beneath the mountain.

It should have been an easy decision. All those years he had labored, deceiving everyone, hardening his heart, and damning his soul, what was it for if not for this moment? 

And yet, it had been a journey of solitude. None else had walked this path with him, only the crushing weight of the foreboding knowledge was his companion.

But somewhere along the way, he saw the Lost Daughter for more than just the ends to his means. Nabi was warm and full of life. She was so eager to share her joy but also too generous in her mercy. Even after finding out about his machinations, she forgave him, and even offered him a second chance. But he should have expected that. The sacrifice had to be worthy of the greatness that awaited.

What surprised him, however, was the flawed and unworthy companions his cousin had around her. Arasen had long come to accept that the rest of the world was tainted. It was because of the imperfections, the hubris and greed in people’s hearts, that allowed for so much suffering to exist in the first place. And that was initially what he saw in everyone that Nabi called her friends and family.

Arasen had no hesitation in lying to them, using them, and manipulating them. He was certain a few of them would have to die, even if by his own hands. So then, why was he fighting by their side now?

Stormchild was easy to figure out, but dangerous to scheme around. A cold-hearted killer, whenever she threatened to take his life, Arasen had no doubt she would carry it through. But she held her hand, and risked much, including her own life, for the sake of his cousin. 

Then there was Saltborn. Quick of temper with a sour disposition, the hyur took a disliking to him immediately. Arasen was certain the Confederate had to die, for he was closest to Nabi, and the strongest obstacle in his way. Arasen had even put a blade to his throat, fully intent on killing him.

But in a twist of fate, Saltborn instead saved Arasen from drowning beneath the tumultuous sea, and even forfeited his chances to kill him outright, when more than a few opportunities were laid at his feet. With much reluctance, the hyur spared the Kharlu, even after fully remembering all the pain that the Xaela had caused him. All because of the slim chance that Arasen could now save Nabi from her fate. Arasen knew full well that he would not be here, if it wasn’t for Saltborn.

Then there was Ghoa. She was most like him, with her honeyed tongue and selfish motivations. And initially, whenever she extended a hand of friendship towards him, Arasen thought it much like his own incentive, to keep everyone close and yet at a distance, to watch them and discern their weaknesses. Enthralling her was an absolute necessity. But Arasen soon realized just how easy it turned out to be. Was it because she loved Batuhan that she assumed the best of him as well? Arasen could not deny that Batu’s fondness for the Mankhad may have softened his own disposition towards her. But that did not stop him from using his blood magic to tug on the woman’s thoughts, turning them to his own favor. 

But to his surprise, when faced with a great need, Ghoa offered something of herself, without any manipulation on his part. A schemer caring for the sake of others. That caught him off guard. But moreso, it reminded him that he too had such good intentions, at the very start of his own journey. So when had things gotten so warped?

It was because of all of them that he was even giving this second choice a thought. 

As Arasen stared up at the colossal darkness that loomed before them all, he reminded himself of the pure idea that began his journey. The prophecy had been about salvation and sacrifice. But what he hadn’t realized until now, was that somewhere within it all, was also a thread of hope. Of an impossible dream that could be realized if one was willing to give all they had for the sake of others.

Arasen touched his chest for the rune that was etched there, a tactile reminder of his childhood promise and his bond. Of his original ideals. To choose the second path would be to break the enchantment upon Ghoa. To return to Batu all that Arasen had taken from him. He would be severing his bonds with all of them. A wash of loneliness returned to him, but with it a sense of contentment. He wasn’t following Chanai and Siban’s designs, he wasn’t being driven by visions of death. The path he chose now was for hope, and a future of happiness, not for himself, but for others.

He would prove himself worthy.

[r2ruen]

C&F: Flower Arc

Featuring: @shaelstormchild [Shael Stormchild], @sentryandco [Batuhan Kharlu] and The Dickhole [Arasen Kharlu], @afreesworn [Nabi Kharlu], @anchor-management [Anchor Saltborn], and @jaliqai-and-company [Ghoa Mankhad]

This was. Quite the project. But! I adore these characters and the stories weaved by not only the very talented DM (or whatever an rp equivalent would be called) @sentryandco​ who is the mind behind our current antagonist and some of the most bestest beloved “NPC” characters--i hesitate to even call them that (shoutout to Batu and wherever you are Myuto), but also all the flavor added on top of that of everyone's character’s individual stories and personalities I get to see unravel as time goes on. I always get inspired to do like... poster style Chapter/Arc pics in the past, but have never tackled one. AND SO I FIX THAT TODAY.

So this is dedicated to all of them and the current Arc. And also as thanks to you-know-who-you-are. 

So thank you. 

[moonlifter-archive]

[shaelstormchild]

Shael tapped a finger restlessly on the ceramic tea cup. It had already gone cold, and the Highlander hadn't even tasted it. Her eyes darted about the courtyard in front of the Umineko Tea House, scanning each and every face that approached. The sun was setting, and the man she was looking for was supposed to be here soon: Marius, a Midlander male with pale hair, dark skin, and pale eyes. He had a repute for visiting the tea house at sunset for some dangos and tea, and was also someone who was much more familiar with magitek than she was. Someone that Nabi (of all people) knew.

A part of her was curious about this man. She knew enough about magitek; she had boosted both her weapons and her ship with Garlean technology in the past. Her lineage and smuggling background both had afforded her knowledge of the Imperial machinery, but she herself wasn’t able to figure out how to dismantle or diffuse the circlet around Saltborn in the short time she had snuck in to the pits. She was familiar with it enough to recognize what it did, she had seen similar models used on conscripted soldiers in Ala Mhigo. But the ones in Doma were just different enough that she didn’t want to take any chances. Any mistake would have fatal consequences on Saltborn, after all.

And now Nabi, as well.

Shael grimaced, her hand tightening around the tea cup. Of course they had collared her too. Nevermind that the girl was harmless, couldn’t fight herself free out of a closet, nor was the Xaela intending on leaving without Saltborn. But she might as well be the sponsors’ slave now, helpless in their clutches. The Highlander shook her head, rubbing her forehead with her free hand.

At least she looked unharmed, Shael told herself. She had snuck in a second time into the pits, with much favors owed to the bookie that she had been fortunate enough to know from years past when she had sold Domans weapons. Sukehide was now making plenty of profit from managing the wagers that exchanged hands with each fight. It was also by sheer luck that the Doman was still fond of her, or at least fond of sexual favors, in exchange for allowing her a glimpse at the champions for the upcoming anticipated final match.

The little visit did allow her to slip a linkpearl into Nabi’s hands. So at least now she could communicate with the two of them, and formulate some plan. A plan, which so far consisted of somehow disabling the Curator’s device so he didn’t electrocute or blow up Nabi’s head at the first sign of trouble, and somehow placing explosives beneath the dais where all the sponsors sat to watch the match.

They could all burn in the seven depths of hell for all I care, Shael silently seethed.

But this plan hinged on a few things that relied on a healthy helping of luck. First, Saltborn needed to win the bloody match. He was key in setting off the explosives, something he promised he could do, and also get Nabi out after. At least Ghoa’s attempt to possibly poison Saltborn’s opponent increased his chances---Ghoa, another Xaela alchemist that somehow Nabi befriended, who happened to be working for Grave. Shael knew the woman was working mostly for herself, to free herself from Grave’s control, but Nabi trusted her. And Shael couldn’t deny that Ghoa’s access and her skills with poison would be useful in this plan.

Someday, Shael was going to ask how Nabi befriended all these myriad of misfits. Herself included, which Shael still was befuddled about.

The second part of the plan that was still up in the air was her getting into the arena to plant the explosives beneath the dais. She wasn’t sure about the access to the place when there was no fighting going on. She knew the place was packed and the security was tight on the suns of the matches. Furthermore, on the sun when this would all go down, Shael also needed her gun. Something that hopefully, Saltborn’s slave boy would be able to smuggle in for her. She, and Tserende as her own personal shield, would provide the cover fire to allow Saltborn and Nabi to escape from the ring. Then somehow, in the chaos, she and Tserende would have to work out on how to get out of the mountain themselves. She still hadn’t figured out how to sneak in Tserende’s gigantic sword into the fighting pits either.

All these ifs and hows made her antsy. Her foot was tapping against the ground by the time the sun had completely disappeared over the horizon, the dimness of twilight washing over the port city.

That was when Shael spotted a pale-haired man approaching the tea stall. He fit the description perfectly.

First things first. She had to ensure that this man could somehow devise a way so the Curator could not activate the collars. If that couldn’t be done, if they couldn’t ensure Nabi’s safety in this escape, then all was for naught. She didn’t care that Grave would still die in the fire, if the person they were trying to save was lost, nothing else mattered.

Shael set her teacup aside and stood, her hand sliding to check the gun holstered at her hip. One way or another, this Marius was going to help Nabi. She was going to bloody well see to it.

[smol-nevi]

@jaliqai-and-company (who it isn’t letting me tag, bluh) won one of the raffles at the Winter Ball so I got to draw their lovely character Ghoa Mankhad in her blue and white glory. :D

Art Tag | Commission Info | Buy me a coffee?

[afreesworn]

A Happy Birthday

@anchor-management surprised me with this very wonderful birthday present! It brings me such joy since it calls back to Nabi's first nameday celebration she shared with her closest people.

The picture shows that years later, they remain as close as ever, if not more so.

Thank you SO MUCH @anchor-management!!! <3

And if you want to go check out more wonderful art, you can look up @r2ruen!!

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV WRITE 2022 Prompt #3: Temper (Ghoa)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------TRIGGER WARNINGS: Captivity/confinement, addiction, grief, survivor's guilt, fear of death, and just.. a lot of Heavy Shit(tm). ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The creaking of an unseen door and the sound of heavy, armored footfalls approaching roused Ghoa from her state of fitful half-sleep, pushing herself up from the makeshift cot upon which she had languished now for days.

As soon as looked in the direction of the footsteps' approach and her tired eyes once more landed upon the sturdy iron bars keeping her here, she felt her stomach churn with nausea all over again. After the series of events in the Steppe and those in Kugane that had brought her to Thavnair, the Mankhad still could not acclimate to her present state of captivity.. Even if it were wholly deserved and a dilemma entirely of her own making. 

It had been nearly a week ago by her figuring since she had been detained by the Radiant Host and brought to the gaol, though it had seemed an eternity longer in her mind. Locked away in a cell with nothing to occupy her except for the unrelenting anxiety in the back of her mind, time crawled by with excruciating languidity. Kept in solitude away from others, her only company was the immense guilt that hung over her like a headsman’s axe.

If she had known then what she knew now, Ghoa never would’ve taken the commission that had landed her in this precarious situation. Yet she had been blinded to the potential repercussions by the promise of substantial coin - fuel to further feed the vices that she had fallen into in order to escape the specter of past failings that had returned to haunt her. 

When the ghost of Ino had finally caught up with her in Radz-at-Han, she had first tried hard to fight against it. Yet she had found herself lacking the strength to withstand it whenever it came calling in her dreams, much less when its shadowy figure began to infiltrate even her waking moments. All she knew to do was that which she had done all her life:  run away. 

Leaving Radz-at-Han physically hadn’t been an option. The wages that Ghoa earned by her apprenticeship were enough only to eke out a modest living on top of the free lodgings and access to materials and tools it provided her. She hadn’t the same glut of coin at her disposal as she had when she had left Kugane, funded by Hisanobu’s guilt and affections. Besides, if this ghost had followed her here across the sea’s great expanse once already, it stood to reason that it would follow again no matter what distant shores she eventually found herself upon. 

Ghoa knew then she had to flee in other ways. Drink and drug to numb her body and soul to the pains of the past. Companionship to replace the cold, dead eyes staring back at her in her mind's eye with those yet filled with light and life. All things readily available in this city of hedonism and plenty, if only one had the coin to afford it. And on a student’s earnings, afford it she could not. 

After she had left Kugane, the young alchemist had told herself that she would no longer use the skills she had honed under Hisanobu’s tutelage. No more dealings within the seedy underbelly of a city that would eat her whole if only she gave it half a chance. No more succumbing to the siren’s call of the droves of coin to be had if only one were willing to set aside their moral compass. No more using her brilliance to do harm for profit when she was capable of doing so much good instead.

She had not only made that promise to herself, but to the very mentor that had taken her under their wing. But still, despite her intentions at the time, Ghoa had broken her word to them both.

As it turned out, illegal tinctures and tonics sold even better in the Near East than they had in Hingashi. The alchemical underground of Radz-at-Han was alive and well, buzzing with opportunity for coin. Even besides the locals, there was a constant supply of foreign traders looking to get their hands on such goods to smuggle back to their own buyers back home at an even heftier profit. An undoubtedly potent narcotic or poison crafted by the hands of a Hannish alchemist would sell for a small fortune in foreign black markets.

Though it had taken some time at first to break her way into this underground, break into it she had. She had had to keep her dealings discrete to the utmost degree, of course. Had her mentor learned of what she was doing, everything she had worked so hard for in Thavnair would be forfeit. Master Sarasvati would not suffer a pupil committing what she considered to be an alchemist’s blackest sin:  the harming of others for one’s own gain.

At first, it had went well. Using the skills that Hisanobu had taught her to maintain the utmost level of secrecy, Ghoa had been able to keep her dealings hidden from her teacher, her colleagues, and her friends. But naturally, the occasional bender or visit to the pillowhouses began to lose its efficacy. She needed more and more just to get through the day without the ghost returning to her. The more she needed, the more desperate she became. The more desperate she became, the more reckless she had gotten.

Ghoa supposed she should have anticipated that eventually, it would take but a single misstep too far and her carefully crafted house of lies and sins would come crashing down around her. Yet even if she should have expected it, it did not stop the shock of just how violently and how swiftly her hidden life would implode in upon itself when finally it did.

The commission had seemed like countless others she had taken on, and by all rights it should have been. Whenever she was approached to concoct poisons for buyers, the Mankhad had made it a point not to ask too many questions. The less she knew about what a client planned to do with their purchase, the better. 

Of course, in the beginning, she had at least vetted those buyers extensively to make sure that they were going to be just as meticulously careful as she was herself. Gradually, however, her unyielding insistence on quality, trustworthy clientele eased just so long as they were willing to pay her price. 

This fellow in particular was willing to pay whatever she asked and then some. Ghoa didn’t even know his name, but the shine of his gil had been enough to convince her to agree to construct a toxin to his exactingly cruel specifications. And when she had finished, she had foolishly thought herself able to wash her hands of the unfamiliar man and his ill business.

That was, until a few suns later when the Radiant Host had dragged her from the lavish pillowhouse in which she had decided to celebrate a job well done and thrown her into this blighted cell. 

It was only during their interrogation that she had learned that her client had been a trader who had sought to exact vengeance upon a partner that had taken everything from him when their dealings turned south. It was with Ghoa’s toxin that he, in turn, had sought to take everything from his former partner in kind.. beginning with his family. Yet when his crime of passion had taken its own misstep and he found himself caught, her client had been all too quick to offer up the source of the horrific poison to lessen his own punishment.

Last she had heard from the Host, the former partner’s wife and child were still gravely ill. She had been offered leniency if only she would surrender to them the antidote to cure them of their grim affliction. If only she had thought to concoct one, Ghoa would’ve been glad to give it to them. But her clients never asked for antidotes, and she wasn’t wont to waste her own time and money on something for which they would not pay.

All that she had been able to offer to them was the poison’s formulation and the mechanisms by which it worked. That was the last conversation she had had with them, and by their silence whenever she asked after their condition whenever the guard stopped by to deliver her meals, she hadn’t high hopes that it had done aught to save them. 

By now, without a successful antidote, they assuredly would have succumbed to the poison’s effects. Given that the footsteps presently approaching her cell were coming between meal times, she assumed that it could only mean that someone was coming to inform her of this and to let her know her own punishment. 

Would she be locked in this cell for the rest of her days, she wondered grimly. Or would the Host not suffer a woman whose concoctions had so horrifically killed an innocent woman and child to live herself? A shudder went down her spine at the thought of execution. Though once upon a time she had welcomed death’s embrace rather than to be dragged back to be at Bayanbataar's mercy, the thought of leaving this world for the next now when her soul was so heavily blackened with her myriad sins filled her with a dreadful fright.

Finally, the footsteps drew close enough to draw her out of her racing thoughts with another, more unexpected realization. There was more than one set of steps present, but only one that seemed to be weighed down by the heavy armor the Host wore. Accompanying it, she could discern two more gaits:  one awkward and uneven, the other a short and furious staccato.

No, she thought as her blood went cold in her veins. Not them. Please, gods, not them..

But perhaps this was the worst punishment of all, and one the gods were intent to visit upon her.

Just as she had thought, the Radiant Host guard that rounded the corner to her cell was joined by two others. First was a stooped and hunched Raen man, his sallow face flushed with the obvious effort it had taken him to keep up with the others. In front of him was a figure far more frightening, though the older Hyuran woman was of far slighter stature than either of the men accompanying her.

Master Sarasvati Parikh was an alchemist without peer, possessing a professional reputation that was rivaled only by her notoriously foul, fiery temper. 

In her youth, she had been recruited into the High Crucible of Al-kimiya to serve Radz-at-Han with her impressive skill and knowledge of the aetherochemistry of the human body. Eventually, she had taken up the role of teaching and mentoring the next great generation of Hannish alchemists in her chosen field of study. That was, until she had been approached by a group of peers with an opportunity not only to expand upon their knowledge in the realm of alchemical warfare, but great profit besides. They had wanted to use her knowledge as the base upon which they built the alchemical weaponry their would-be client sought from them. 

She had not spared their feelings in expressing exactly how disgusted she was with each and every one of them for even considering it. Not only that, but Sarasvati had made it even clearer that any attempts to use her research in its pursuit would result in her withdrawing not only every single treatise and tome she had ever contributed to the Crucible’s archives, but also her considerable financial support. Though she dressed and lived in modest fashion, it was a well-known secret that she was a distant scion of the illustrious House Daemir and that most of both her earned and inherited fortunes she funneled right back into the Crucible her predecessors had founded.

Though these peers balked in the face of her threats and the deal had never come to fruition, her disgust that they had even considered it had been so great that she had never been able to put it aside. Her respect for those colleagues never returned, and it blackened the light in which she viewed at the rest of her peers as well. And so, Sarasvati had withdrawn not only from her role at the Crucible, but from the public eye near entirely to pursue her own good works in peace and privacy.

Any words that Ghoa might have summoned left her the moment her eyes met the withering, furious look cast down at her in her mentor’s own severe brown gaze. She tried to find something to say, some explanation or apology or..

“Leave us,” the elderly hyur snapped at the guard without ever breaking her glare. Though the man paused with hesitation, casting an unsure glance back at the equally uncomfortable Naseem behind her, he eventually offered a silent nod and stepped away to give them privacy.

Once he had made it out of earshot, the Mankhad scrambled to preempt whatever words were about to come.

“Master Sarasvati, I am–”

“You will not speak to me,” she interrupted in a hissing whisper that blazed with cold, bare fury. “You have squandered the right to address me ever again.” 

Ghoa instantly wilted under the rebuke’s sting. She dared not utter another word, managing only a weak nod as she dropped her gaze in shame. Yet even looking away did nothing to soothe the burn of the incensed glare that she still keenly felt fixed upon her.

“It is only by the Manusya’s divine wisdom and grace that I was able to save that poor family from succumbing to your black-hearted works. Though still they will be suffering and struggling to recover for weeks, if not moons to come because of your selfishness..”

The breath she had been holding released in a shuddering gasp of relief at the news that the mother and child yet lived. But even this reaction seemed only to infuriate her master further, apparently under the assumption that it was her own wellbeing for which Ghoa had been concerned.

“Do not allow yourself to believe for even a single moment that I did it for the sake of your life or your freedom,” Sarasvati snapped. “I did it because I was the one who took responsibility for you, educated you, and gave you the tools that you used to harm them. I might as well have been the one to pour that poison down their gullets myself.”

“N-no,” Ghoa suddenly gasped despite herself, gaze snapping back up in wide-eyed horror at the woman. “It wasn’t your–”

“I said SILENCE!” she all but roared with such ferocity that even the Host down the corridor perked up with concern, but hesitated to approach and turn that ire towards himself. 

“I labored without sleep for days because my conscience would not allow me to do otherwise. I was the one who created the monster that was nearly their undoing, and it was my moral obligation to save their lives!” She seethed openly, her dark cheeks red with anger, her hands shaking with barely contained rage. “If it were up to me, you would rot in here for the rest of your miserable days. Against my recommendation, however--” she spat the words out like they were the very same poison she had battled against, “--the Radiant Host has decided to release you back into my care.”

Ghoa foundered at that unexpected turn, uncertain what to say or how to feel. Truthfully, she didn’t know what hurt or terrified her more – the knowledge that her mentor had advocated for her continued imprisonment, or the idea of returning to her home with her. As if reading her very mind, Sarasvati’s gaze narrowed.

“You will never step foot inside my home again,” she snapped. “I’ve taken the liberty of having your belongings packed and set upon a ship bound for Eorzea that leaves at tomorrow’s first light.. Would that I could find somewhere even further across the world to fling you at such short notice.. I might rest easier with even more malms between us than that.”

Her stomach sank like a stone, and Ghoa reflexively found herself looking instead from her mentor to Naseem behind her as often it did when their mentor was in one of her rages. 

While Sarasvati’s gaze held nothing short of hateful contempt for her, her friend and fellow apprentice’s bore only resignation and heartbreak. He knew of the ghost that haunted her and though he knew not exactly what ill dealings she had gotten herself into because of it, he had tried his hardest to pull her back from the specter's grasp. He had never harbored even an onze of anger or disappointment towards her for her weakness, but only the desire to help his dear friend. Yet for all his good intentions and efforts, Ghoa had disappointed him in the end, too.

“I understand,” she whispered as she slumped back onto the cot, head hung in defeat and tears beginning to well behind her eyes. For a mercy, at least, they refused to fall in their presence.

“Do not return to Radz-at-Han,” Sarasvati finally ended her tirade, her words no longer alight with fire but back to their beginning cold, smoldering intensity. “She will be far better without you darkening her doorstep again.”

Ghoa nodded weakly in resigned silence. Though she dare not speak the words aloud to the mentor she had held in such high esteem for the past five years, the one who had taken a chance on her when none others would even give her the time of day.. 

She promised then that she would not return to Thavnair, just as she was bade. And she would not break a promise she had made to Sarasvati for a second time. 

[r2ruen]

Happy Halloween!Trauma Team Special! Feat. Nurse Angie Costume.  @shaelstormchild, @sentryandco, @jaliqai-and-company, @anchor-management, and @afreesworn

Based on the image below. Aka Trauma Team. Made by Atlus. 

[moonlifter-archive]

all i do is log in and stand around my friends for screenshots, these days.

[afreesworn]

Plans and Diversions

“Thank you so much!” 

Nabi bowed deeply in thanks as she received the small linen pouch from the miqo’te merchant. Her buoyant yet formal demeanor garnered an amused look and a nod from L’zuhjha, the latter just tipping her red beret in return. It was the usual expression Nabi encountered when she offered the bow that was customary in Kugane; she had been told more than once that such formal gestures were not needed in the west.

It was a hard habit to break, and… Well, she was forced to admit there remained more than a little nostalgia in that she still wanted to carry parts of her home with her wherever she traveled.

There was a restlessness about her through the last few bells, as her mind darted back and forth over too many questions without any answers. Nabi found herself meandering about through Limsa Lominsa, eventually coming to a stop where she had a full view of a lighthouse in the distance. She stared at it, almost longingly, for a long time before looking down and regarding the parcel in her hand. She pried it open, letting the contents spill out onto her palm. Three small pearls glimmered with a reddish-gold hue, reflecting the final rays of a setting sun that also set afire her view of the sea beyond. 

And as all things did of late, it reminded her of Anchor.

It had been only a few suns since he left for Upper Noscea and yet every night, the vacant space next to her felt all the bigger, the nights felt colder, even in this humid coastal weather.

I am being childish, Nabi chided herself with a shake of her head. They’d even spoken over the pearl the night before. He reassured her of the mission he would carry out with Shael in the lighthouse near Aleport, with hopes of joining them within a sun after. And yet, as she kept his pearl close to her heart all sun, there was no word from him about his return. Nabi felt selfish in wishing for some kind of an update, when Anchor and Shael needed to be focusing rather on their own safety and success.

As I should be. It was a sober reminder to herself, for what awaited on the morrow. As excited as both she and Ghoa were about being invited back to the Nylor mansion, once they met both the Doctor and his sister, Estrid, it became clear that things would be more difficult and complicated than they had planned.

‘I trust some of the residents' eccentricities are now clear.’

Mister North had subtly insinuated before the visit that the Doctor was dedicated to his mysterious agenda, and that his focus was solely about his sister’s well-being. What he left out was that the Doctor, while polite and intelligent, seemed singularly obsessed with his research, throwing all caution and possibly even welfare of other people to the wind.

Without hesitation—even while all were all right there, listening—he assumed loudly that he would put Nabi to the test, to make sure that she was safe in Estrid’s presence. Nabi understood why he might be alarmed with the immediate affect his sister seemed to feel in her proximity. Doctor Nylor did not give Nabi an opportunity to explain that she has had prior experience with the very specific ailment that Estrid was suffering under. 

She recognized the bright amber crystal that was glimpsed beneath Estrid’s hood, one that had completely replaced her left eye and was growing jaggedly outward. It was the same crystal she had plucked from Anchor’s arm, when they had removed the gauntlet that Elam Grave had forcibly placed there. Nabi was certain that Estrid suffered from the same corruption that Anchor did. Only, hers seemed far more advanced, in that it was visibly growing out of her, and also affecting her mental state.

Nabi had her own theory—the fact that her magic and aether were having some influence over Anchor’s corruption was now expanding to include anyone that had the same taint to their aether.

Did this mean that Estrid and Anchor’s path might have crossed at some point in the past? None of the corrupted crystals in Limsa were of the same element as Anchor’s; all the ones they had studied here were those that had exploded upon Eorzea upon Dalamud’s fall. Their respective energies were distinctly different. 

Nabi felt her heart race faster at the thought. This was a breakthrough. Someone else that had the same sickness that Anchor suffered from, and had a sibling that was researching solutions to the problem! Surely, if the Doctor and she could put their minds together—along with Ghoa, who was far more trained in aetherochemistry—Nabi was certain they could achieve more breakthroughs.

‘But whatever it is you hope to gain from this family, I hope it is worth these diversions.’ Mister North’s warning came to mind again. ‘Doctor Nylor's words to me have hinted that his scientific efforts have not been altogether painless on his part or his subjects.’

The possibility of her being hurt scared her, without a doubt, but she could not let it stop her. Nabi placed her hand flat upon her abdomen to calm the fluttering there. She knew that science and medicine sometimes involved pain. If it took tests to reassure this Doctor that she was no danger to his sister, and that they were more likely to find answers together than alone, then enduring some procedures was certainly worth it.

“What be the plan then? If somethin’ were tae go wrong. You have your way out? Has ya been mindful of their numbers? How many he’s got in service? Blaggards high on their coin are trouble, yara’æ. Ya still hasn’t made clear how exactly ya see this goin’ from dancin’ an’ singin’ tae talkin’ ‘bout corrupted crystals and–oh, I dunno, how he’s fuckin’ with that Funk fellow with his supposed treatments!”

Anchor’s words from their last correspondence suddenly roared forth from her memory, that Nabi winced visibly. She inhaled deeply, to let the briny coastal air cleanse her thoughts, and perhaps remind her of their calmer conversations. She delayed their stay at the Nylor’s by one sun, just so she could let Anchor know all that was being planned. Of course, if he was absolutely against it, then she would have to figure out another way. 

But Nabi was confident she would make him understand. Mister North had come up with an escape plan just in case things turned dire, and it was sound. Nabi wasn’t going back alone, she would have Mister North and Ghoa there too. And now knowing that this Doctor and she must share the same goal of finding a cure for this corruption, this had to be their next step. She was sure that Anchor would understand.

And he was near Aleport, which wasn’t far. He and Shael may even be back tonight or tomorrow. Nabi was certain of this course, now more than ever.

She squinted out into the distance, seeing fog rolling back in as the night approached. The sea looked calm, but she couldn’t see far beyond. It could not deter her. It would not.

‘Yara’æ.’ Jude’s softer voice filtered in. Just remembering the word brought a smile to her lips, and a calm over her heart. A firefly, he called her. ‘Like those ones that alight all them dark corners.’ 

With warmth lingering against her cheeks, Nabi slid the pearls back into the pouch, tucking it away. She needed to go find Ghoa and Mister North, both of whom were gathering supplies. But if she hurried, perhaps they could spot some fireflies by the time they returned to Mist.

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #15: Row

Cheaters never win, the old adage echoed within Ghoa’s mind.. along with a faint, stinging throb. Too bad the saying hadn’t occurred to her before the unfortunate string of events that had transpired all within the last two or three minutes. Not that she would have listened to it anyway, probably..

A race had been proposed, from the end of the docks at Costa del Sol to a rock upon the nearby sandbar. Of course, the intention of the proposal had been for the racers – Anchor, Shael, Nabi and herself – to take the route across the sand and then swim across in the final leg. But such specifics were never stated and, knowing full well how horrid of a chance she stood in any contest of physical prowess, that clever mind of hers had begun thinking of a way to exploit the loopholes.

Her strategy? As the others raced down the roundabout path across the beach, she would head in the opposite direction back across the dock to the closest jumping point between here and the finish line. It shortened the run and swim both, not that she was overly concerned about the latter. If there was one physical task that Ghoa could claim some skill at, it was swimming.

The run was still plenty long for her.. less than hardy endurance. But so, too, did she have an idea for that.

"You know? I'm feeling so confident that I think I might even give you lot a head start," she hummed as she hung back. "I can start from right here."

"Ya’ up tae somethin,” Shael answered as she fixed her with a rightfully doubtful look. “..but that be yer game."

"I'm just saying," the Mankhad answered innocently as she takes off the sunglasses perched atop her head, stuffing them into the waistband of her swim bottoms for security. "I was raised on the beaches and in the water. It's only fair, you know?"

"Ya sure showed that gurgling salt water that time.” Anchor’s retort saw her gaze narrow as she looked over in his direction.

“That was different,” she huffed defiantly. For one, they weren’t atop a wildly pitching ship tossed to and fro by storm-frenzied waves, but she didn’t press the point. It was doubtful neither he nor Shael would concede that point. Besides, she’d show them just how adept of a swimmer she was when she stood victorious upon that rock, looking down upon them in triumph.

As the others started forward towards the end of the dock where the starting line should have before, Ghoa primed herself to leap into action the moment the moment the word ‘Go!’ left Shael’s lips.

Off she was down the pier like a bolt of lightning, only to hit her first stumbling block early. Her sandal caught on an uneven board of the pier, snapping the thong and sending her pitching forward. Luckily, she was able to catch herself, but the mishap had certainly slowed her. But she would win. She had to win.

Pushing down the frantic burning of her lungs from the effort, Ghoa kept her eyes on the prize. Wait, what even was the prize? Maybe it was that thought that caused her focus to lapse as she reached the pier’s end. Or maybe it was the quick look back that told her she was in the lead as the others just reached wading depth in the shallows, filling her with overconfidence.

Whatever it was, it kept her from committing wholeheartedly to the graceful dive she had planned. Another misstep and the Mankhad found herself suddenly sliding without control across the slippery end of the dock and with a shocked squeal quickly drowned out by a splash, Ghoa bellyflopped into the sea. 

Well.. so much for winning.

Choking and sputtering as she surfaced, the bleary-eyed Xaela’s first instinct was to look around to see who had witnessed her embarrassment. Immediately, her eyes found those of a ferryman but a few fulm away, affixing her with a look that was equal parts concern and amusement with a healthy side of confusion atop it.

“You, er.. okay, miss..?” he managed as he leaned over the boat’s edge, offering a hand to pull her into the dinghy. Thank the gods he at least had the tact not to bust out laughing in her face, or else the Mankhad might have just lowered herself to the sea floor then and let the ocean take her right then.

“P-perfectly fine..” Ghoa managed with not a small dose of sarcasm as she paddled over and reached up to take the hand, using it to pull herself into the boat. Sort of. As if to only add further insult to injury, her foot slipped upon the edge and with another splash, back into the briny depths she went for a second helping of humble pie.

Finally, the Mankhad made it into the rowboat on her second attempt. By then, it was obvious that the ferryman was struggling not to laugh at what he had just witnessed, his cheeks as red from the effort as her entire front side was from the sting of meeting the water face-on. 

Yet he paddled on in merciful silence and Ghoa pulled her sunglasses from her waistband – half amazed that they hadn’t managed to go by the wayside much as he broken sandal – and slipped them onto her nose. As if that would hide her embarrassment once she disembarked..

“Don’t. Say. Anything,” she huffed as she reached the sandbar, still red-tinted and hair bedraggled. 

“The hells happened?” Anchor asked.

At least the others had been so consumed by competition that it would seem none had witnessed it. Only the ferryman and probably half of La Noscea besides once his shift was ended and he was able to recount the unfortunate encounter to much laughter later.

“Oh, um..” Nabi chimed in, tone suspiciously evasive. “Caught a bad wave, yes?”

Well, at least the only one amongst them who had witnessed the spectacular failure was Nabi, too sweet by half to acknowledge it. 

Before she could answer, another coughing and sputtering fit overtook her. As she straightened, her tone was sour. “I hate races,” she huffed unhelpfully. “This was a terrible idea.”

Yet for all their amusement at her expense as they crossed the beach in search of what she sorely hoped was a nearby bar, Ghoa had to admit there was a part of her – deep, deep down below the humiliation – that was thankful for a moment of shared levity. It was rare for the lot of them to steal moments like this together in peace rather than having to band together in the face of a common, dire foe.

But next time they had a moment of respite, Ghoa sure hoped that no one proposed anymore stupid races.

[moonlifter-archive]

another christmas gift!! this time for my girl @jaliqai-and-company , done once more by the lovely @azeneth-mor !! ♡

sadly ko’a and ghoa are utter trash and there’s no cute poem to go with them, but i love them all the same.

[afreesworn]

3: Scale

“What do you think about this color?”

The cloak was woven in forest green cloth, its edges decorated with rich cream embroidery — almost gold in certain lighting — that caught Nabi’s eye. She smiled wide as Ghoa held it up before her, although the Mankahd wasn’t wasting any time in reaching for another piece of a new wardrobe. When a new set of traveling clothes was suggested by Shael, Ghoa jumped at the opportunity, gleefully appointing herself the expert in this matter.

And Nabi couldn’t refuse, nor would she, for she had always looked up to her for her sense of beauty and fashion.

The point of this new shopping spree was so that none of them would stand out as obvious foreigners for bandits and opportunists to take advantage of. Nabi doubted that Shael nor Anchor would allow such a thing, but the advice was still sound, and Ghoa leaped at the idea of buying new things.

But looking about the busy market stalls of Hawker’s Alley, Nabi didn’t see anyone but vendors give them a second look, and there were truly a myriad of races and people from all over the world mingling freely.

It reminded her of Kugane, as it too was a busy port city, but still, growing up there, it was obvious she did not blend in with everyone around her. Most were hyurs and roegadyn, with a few scattered lalafells and elezens, and those few who bore scales on their skin, it was pale in color, almost blending with the color of their flesh.

That was not so for a Xaela like she and her mother. Their dark obsidian horns marked them as born of the Steppe, and often it drew the gaze of natives and tourists alike.

Certainly there was a scant number of Xaela that visited their stall over the years, but rare enough that she could count them on her fingers.

That is, until Ghoa visited her stall one afternoon.

The Mankhad’s graceful demeanor and her intelligent yet congenial personality immediately struck Nabi with a sense of awe, that she wanted to get to know her. Her exotic air was something Ghoa subtly wore like expensive jewelry, it was natural and beautiful and wholly hers.

It was after that sun that Nabi slowly began to see Xaela traits as not something only unique but something she should be proud of. Something that signified the strength that was inherent in women of the Steppe, like her mother and the Mankhad.

“And this cloth and color should stave off the heat in Thanalan,” Ghoa’s observation brought Nabi’s attention back to the collection of clothing strewn over the counter. Even while the Mankhad was raised in the tribal ways, Nabi firmly believed Ghoa’s ingenuity in fashion could rival anyone in the West.

Nabi nodded and smiled brightly, squeezing the woman’s hand as she returned to studying the items displayed before her. Whether they stood out or not, Nabi no longer cared, for she didn’t feel like an outsider. Not in the present company, not for a long time.

((apologies to @jaliqai-and-company for me nabbing her character for the post!))