#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].

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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...

- - - - -

- - - - -

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.

[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.

[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.

[moonlifter-archive]

[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. 

[shaelstormchild]

The Final Match

Shael heard the noise of the arena long before she saw the cave entrance---a distant roar carried upon the wind. The cacophony brought on by the mob that had gathered for this final fight was making the underground fighting pit a poorly-hidden secret on this particular sun.

Not that she cared. After this match was over, she wondered what would be left of this place. Very little, if all went according to plan. Good.

As Shael and Tserende shoved their way past the tightly packed throng of people to gain a better view of the ring, she took another scan of the place. It was set within a vaulted chamber in the central belly of the mountain, the vast space having once served as a hideout for the Doman Liberation Front. There were plenty of caverns and narrower tunnels all underground in this place, but nothing as large and airy as the chamber that housed the main fighting pit. The ring in the center reminded her very much of the Bloodsands in Ul’dah, where the fighters spilled the blood of their opponents for the audience’s pleasure in a depressed ring filled with sand and soil. Those who were connected or wealthy enough to attend the violent sport, watched from above, safely out of the reach of those who were forced to fight. Thin veins of luminescent crystals running through the walls lit the ring, the largest of them hanging from the ceiling.

Rows of tympani resounded their booming rhythm throughout the arena and beyond, the walls of the mountain seeming to pulse with a heartbeat all their own. Shael easily spotted Ghoa seated next to Elam on the dais, the poisonmaker looking impressive, even in Shael’s eyes; the woman was impeccably dressed in finery appropriate for the occasion, of course. Elam, on the other hand, wore a hungry look, for a win and for the power that would follow. Shael recognized that dark, narrowed-eyed expression even from this distance. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment. Was there some regret or hesitation on her part in what was to follow later? They had been lovers once. Did she have any doubts about being an instrument of his death now?

...Nah. The answer came to her easily and immediately. The bastard had turned cruel and dangerous since those long years ago, and he posed a threat to the people she cared about. If she had just realized this earlier and ended his threat moons before this, perhaps Nabi wouldn’t be in this mess.

Today would put an end to that. Her attention flicked to the other side of the dais, where Nabi was seated next to the elder Doman warlord, Ieharu Musa. She looked so fragile. Even more than usual. Almost sickly. She wasn’t like that when Shael had snuck in a few suns ago to pass along the pearl to her and Saltborn. What had happened?

As anger began to simmer beneath the surface, Shael was quickly pulled out of it by Tserende’s dour voice behind her.

“You’ve brought us into an ant hill of brigands.” The Ishgardian mercenary adjusted his glasses as he plodded along behind her.

Shael flashed him a wild smile, elbowing another patron aside as she made her way to the railing overlooking the arena. Despite the high stakes, this place... the anarchy and violence that prevailed here… she was in her element. She gave the surly man a once-over, appreciating his disguise of a coat and distinctly eastern lamellar armor underneath. It was a change of pace from his usual heavy armor, although she had teased him about sporting a lighter shinobi disguise. She was promptly met with an incredulous scoff. “You’ll get used to the smell,” Shael reassured him with a shrug, ducking a flying bottle. “And the sweat.” She shoved past another woman. “And the smell of sweat.”

With Tserende forcibly moving people aside to create a space next to the railing overlooking the ring, Shael scooted next to him and slid the bag she had been carrying by her feet. It was the bag she had smuggled in using Saltborn’s slave boy. Since the bag looked just like the ones that the bookies carried to manage the wagers, once she got past the entrance and the guards there, no one else gave the package a second look. She tapped it with the tip of her boots lightly, checking to make sure the contents were still there.

It was in that moment that the Ringmaster announced the final fight of the sun, the most anticipated.

“Ladies and gentleman! The final fight of the day, the one that you have been all waiting for has come! Saltborn of The Cove has risen to challenge the reigning victor and champion, Ashen Bear of clan Musa!”

As soon as the gates to the ring opened below them, a suffocating stench of rotting flesh greeted her nose, courtesy of the bestial ‘champion’ that exited the door that was situated just below her and Tserende.

“Okaaaay…” Shael sighed, sounding less cocksure than before. “You might not get used to that smell.” Her eyes were narrowed, her lips bent in a grimace as she looked to Saltborn’s opponent.  She didn’t even know what she was looking at.

It had a towering frame, well above eight fulms in height. Perhaps it was once a Roegadyn.. but she wasn't sure what it was now. Broad of shoulder, thick frame, he bore a name of a Hellsguard, yet the thing that had walked out of those gates, hunched low as to fit the lower frame of the door, was not something anyone would recognize as spoken. Rather than skin, layers of dried tar or soft bark like substance covered Ashen’s form, and with each step that it took, she could see something glistening, like sap, oozing off the body and dripping to the sands beneath its feet. The crowd jeered at the foul scent wafting through the ring, but Ashen Bear didn’t seem to care. His eyes were barely visible beneath a mountain of dark flesh, as if his forehead had grown too thick, one layer of flesh piling over another.

Shite… This entire plan hinged on Saltborn winning the fight. "Alright, backup plan if Saltborn dies.” Shael quickly pivoted to Tserende, scowling. “We make a break for the dais, grab Nabi, and jump off into the arena while I try to get the thing detonated." It was definitely not the optimal plan. Far from it. But her mind was now spinning. She wasn’t confident at all that Saltborn would survive this.

She wasn't sure anyone could.

[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?

[sea-and-storm]

🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about?

It took me entirely too long to think of an answer for this one but when it hit me, I cackled.

Whenever Ghoa thinks about the end of her night after Nabi's Nameday get together with the gang, she can't help but wish the ground would open up beneath her and swallow her whole.

There she is, trundling into Nabi's clinic in the middle of the night with a half-full bottle in one hand and already having lost a shoe somewhere along the way - a hot damn mess barely managing to stand on her own two feet. And with the realization that her inn room is impossibly far away, she decides that there is a perfectly serviceable bed right here.. That it's already occupied is of little consequence in her inebriated state.

The details are fuzzy from her drunken stupor. She doesn't remember if Batu said anything as she plopped herself unceremoniously down onto the cot next to him, pushing him over to make a spot for herself. And she certainly doesn't remember anything after that, though from past experiences.. the poor Kharlu probably didn't get much rest that night for her tossing and turning and flailing of arms, legs, and tail.

The only thing she does remember is waking up the next morning with no idea of where she was at, head pounding, clothes and hair a mess, and sicker than a dog. When she finally realized where she was and that she wasn't alone, that's when she scrambled from the bed in a mad dash for one of Nabi's hangover curatives before she hurled - whether from the alcohol or embarrassment, it's impossible to tell. Probably both.

Though Ghoa is exceedingly glad and relieved that Batu managed to get his memories back after they were taken from him, a small part of her hopes that maybe, just maybe.. that one didn't come back.

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #13: Confluence

“Master Parikh!” Ghoa called out into the street as she hurried from Dinesh’s shop, hoping to catch the older woman before she disappeared into the throngs of people in the busy Hannish street. “Just a moment, if you would!”

The woman she had her sights set upon came to a standstill, a look of curiosity inlaid with vague annoyance upon her countenance as she looked back to Ghoa. Recognizing her from moments before at the apothecary, her pale green eyes narrowed and she began to turn back to resume her trek.

“Your employer has taken enough of my money already, girl,” she called back to her. “If he’s sent you to pry more from my purse, then it is but a wasted effort. I’ve a ferry to catch and no time to waste on sales pitches.”

“N-no, it’s not–” Ghoa huffed as she struggled through crowd that Sarasvati had already started to weave through, muttering soft apologies to the individuals she bumped into and off of in her hurry. “I’ve got the herb that you wanted!”

For a moment, it seemed like the woman might just keep on walking as if she hadn’t heard her. But seconds later, with the tell-tale rise and lowering of her shoulders in a sigh, she drifted off towards the street’s periphery and motioned the Xaela to approach.

“I thought you were out of stock?” Her tone was unimpressed, suspicious as Ghoa finally cleared the crowd to join her. “That was the whole reason I had to buy an inferior reagent, was it not?”

“We weren’t out of stock. Not by far,” the Mankhad huffed in answer as she caught her breath. “Dinesh insisted that I try to convince you otherwise and sell you that which you purchased. When I protested it, he took the sale upon himself.”

If she had been expecting Sarasvati to look shocked at the revelation, then the cool look of suspicion that followed in its stead would’ve been but a sore disappointment. Her arms crossed over her chest and her chin tilted upwards in defiance.

“And so now you’ve chased me down and delayed my departure for what..? To buy from you those herbs I was just told were not available because you've come offering them so benevolently?” Her eyes narrowed further still, her gaze as sharp and uncomfortable as a well-honed dagger held to the throat. “How do I know that this, too, isn’t one of your unscrupulous employer’s schemes?”

“Because I don’t ask for coin,” Ghoa answered as she began to root around for the reagents in the pocket she had stuffed them within. “Rest assured, once Dinesh sees that they are missing from the shelves, he’ll take the cost from my wages. Not that I expect to see the first coin owed to me after I walked out in.. such an unbecoming fashion.”

“Unbecoming…?” the hyur repeated, curiosity piqued.

“I, ah.. told him that I quit,” she started awkwardly as she finally tugged free the two bottles of herbs and held them out to her, and continued in a quieter voice. “And that he could sweep his own floors. But perhaps it was uttered.. a touch more colorfully.”

Sarasvati studied her for a long moment at the answer and, ever so slowly and so subtly, the corner of her mouth began to pull at the edge into the faintest hint of amusement. She held her hand out in expectant silence then, awaiting the bottles which Ghoa gladly set in her palm.

“Ah, but there is another thing that I thought to grab from the shelves for you, though you did not ask for it. I hope you don’t see it as an overstep, but.. Given that you said you were headed to a remote island village, I thought that it might be pertinent to have more options readily at your disposal.” She plucked out the vial of powder next and placed it, too, in the Hannish woman’s palm. “It seems that this herb is not often used in Hannish practice from what I have seen and read, but it’s used quite commonly in the Far East in tinctures meant to increase the flow of aether.”

The calm, cool mask that Sarasvati seemed to have firmly in place seemed to shift just then, moving from its seemingly default state of mild annoyance and impatience to intrigue. After pocketing the two bottles of the plant she had originally sought, she lifted up the vial the Au Ra had offered to study it closely. But when she spoke, her next questions were not aimed at understanding the contents, but the Xaela herself.

“How did you know what it was that I was treating?” she asked, but this time, there was no suspicion in her voice. “I do not recall telling you, but simply shoving a list into your hands.”

“You didn’t, no,” Ghoa confirmed awkwardly. “But.. I’ve been studying and reading when I haven’t been made to tend the shop, and I recognized the common thread between the list of reagents that you requested. All pointed towards bolstering the flow of a person’s aether. And given that you said you were to see a patient, I made the assumption that the individual you sought to treat was suffering from some sort of aetheric.. blockage or impedance.” She paused, then quickly added. “Of course, it was.. just a hunch. I hope I was not too far off the mark?”

“You were not far from the mark at all, but right atop it,” Sarasvati lowered the vial then, pocketing it, and gave the girl an approving nod. “My patient is a former Radiant Host who was injured in the course of his duty. The beast that took him from battle inflicted a grievous wound upon him that struggles to mend properly even to this day. My diagnosis was that the creature managed to do irreparable harm to one of the body’s central confluences of aether, and so I have been treating him for some time now with potions meant to ease its passage throughout his body for a time.”

Ghoa’s face lit up, both in the surprise that she was so accurate in her guess but also the master alchemist’s words themselves. Given that her brand of potion and poison-making were largely based upon more natural, herbalistic teachings, Thavnairian aetherochemistry was a fascinating new art. To say that she itched to learn all its secrets would be an understatement. She had so many questions, brimming on the tip of her tongue, before she seemed to catch herself. Surely, this thorny-tongued, recluse of a woman would not be keen on answering them.

“...Well! Full glad I am then that the ingredient I provided might bring your patient some relief. But I will not keep you any longer. I know I’ve already delayed your departure long enough,” Ghoa offered a respectful bow. “Besides, I.. suppose I ought start searching for a new means of employment.” She straightened then with a smile that did not quite rise to her eyes, before half-turning back towards the street to exit. “Safe travels, Master Parikh.”

Ghoa had scarcely made it three steps back into the crowd before she heard the voice arise over the din from behind her.

“Join me for my visit,” Sarasvati called to her. “You can tell me more of the properties of this herb you have given me on the ferry ride over, and should I find your assistance suitable in my patient’s treatment, we can discuss terms of an apprenticeship.. if such a thing would interest you.”

Finally things in Thavnair were truly beginning to look up for her.

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #12: Miss the Boat

“Have you any clue who it is that stands at my counter?”

Her employer’s voice was a low, annoyed hiss when he took Ghoa by the arm as she perused the rack of herbs and ingredients. Even though he wasn’t a particularly strong man, more rotund than rugged, it did not take an Arkasodara to cause the petite Xaela to fumble out of place;  moreso whenever she had been caught so off-guard as such, nearly causing her to drop the small sheet of parchment she held within her hands.

Careful to remain subtle enough not to pull the older woman’s attention their way, Dinesh all but dragged his apprentice out of both line of sight and earshot of the customer she had been dutifully waiting upon.

How should I know? I’ve been here less than a full moon, she wanted to spit right back at the man, having to restrain both her tongue and the hateful narrowing of her eyes. And you certainly haven’t taught me anything about this city. You’ve barely even taught me anything of alchemy.

Whenever Ghoa had set her sights upon Thavnair as her next destination, it had been with the determination to find a mentor under which she could expand upon her existing knowledge of herbalism and poison-making. Yet she had misjudged just how difficult of a task that would end up being for one such as herself.

The Crucible would not take in just any stranger off the street, especially not a foreigner only newly arrived. No matter, she had thought. There were plenty alchemists yet in Radz-at-Han and surely she could find at least one in need of an apprentice. Yet while that much was certainly true, she had failed to remember that this was a trader’s town above all else. Of the few masters of the craft that had even deigned to meet with her, all had demanded not insignificant sums in payment made up front towards lessons. Coin that Ghoa did not have, by far.

Out of desperation, the Mankhad had come here to Dinesh’s old, hole-in-the-wall apothecary after one such master alchemist had suggested she seek him out. He was in need of an apprentice, he had told her, and he would certainly be glad for any help that he could get. 

Thinking back on it now, that bastard must have had a good laugh at her expense once word made it back to him that she had took his 'advice' at face value.

Indeed, it hadn’t been difficult at all to get the portly hyur to agree to take her on as a pupil, and at first it had seemed like just the turn of luck for which she had been searching. Dinesh had agreed to teach her in exchange for her assistance in running the apothecary. He’d pay her a wage for it, he assured her, and from that he would subtract the cost of his tutelage.  A fair deal, she had thought then, only to look back on it now with no shortage of bitterness. 

To even call him a ‘teacher’ would’ve been several magnitudes a stretch. Dinesh was a businessman, first and foremost.. And truthfully, Ghoa wasn’t even certain that he was any more alchemically skilled than she was herself. She’d never so much as seen him touch an alembic and all the books in his collection from which he assigned readings were covered in layers of dust thick enough to make a person burst into sneezes at merely the sight of them. Not to mention that most of the more advanced potions and tinctures they sold she knew for a fact were produced by other alchemists that he had bought at a discount for resale.

It had become readily apparent in short order that Ghoa’s employment here would get her nowhere, much less to the heights to which she aspired. But what else was she to do, given that it seemed she had already turned over every rock and leaf out there already?

And so the Xaela had resigned herself to the long hours spent tending shop, filling customers’ orders and selling potions of questionable quality all for a pittance of a wage. All she could hope to do was to save of her earnings what she could and perhaps one day in the distant future she would be able to afford the tutelage of an actual Hannish alchemist. Until then, studying the dusty old tomes in Dinesh’s paltry library would just have to do.

“I do not,” Ghoa replied coolly and evenly, though perhaps the rough manner in which she jerked her arm out of his grasp belied her roiling temper. “She only said that she had need of certain herbs before she departed by ferry to tend to a patient of hers and minced no words in bidding me to hurry, so if you’ll excuse me..”

She turned to start away and once more, the ring-covered hand shot out to yank her back. It took everything Ghoa had within her not to wheel around on him like a coeurl snagged by the tail, all claws and fury. But this time, she didn’t bother to hide the glare that narrowed her silver eyes.. For all the good it did, for he neither seemed to notice nor care.

“Give me that list,” Dinesh growled as he plucked the parchment the customer had given her from Ghoa’s hands. As he pulled down his spectacles over his nose to begin reading, his voice continued in an impatient huff. 

“I suppose you’re to be forgiven for your ignorance.. It is not often that the Crucible’s black karakul herself descends from her estate, after all.” His brows furrowed as his eyes scanned further and further down the list. “We’ve the honor of Sarasvati Parikh’s custom. It’s a rare occurrence, that. Usually it’s that hunched apprentice of hers that runs her errands, the poor fellow.”

Finally, the man seemed to find what it was he was looking for and shoved the list back into Ghoa’s hands. A meaty finger reached over, jabbing at one of the items on Sarasvati’s list.

“This,” he began as he tapped the paper she held and the Xaela struggled not to push his hand out of the way so she could actually read what he was pointing towards. For a mercy, his hand fell away but a second later as he turned back to the shelves, hunting for something. “Tell Master Parikh that we are sold out of that reagent and offer her–” He paused as he plucked a sachet free and returned his gaze to his apprentice. “–this instead.”

“I thought we still had plenty..?” Ghoa questioned hesitantly, looking back towards the shelves she had been pulled from just a moment prior. “I bought more of it myself in the markets only the other day. Has there been a large sale of which I was not made aware, or..?”

A long, low groan of impatience left Dinesh, a hand rising to wipe over his face in exasperation.

“We do have plenty, you fool. There has been no large purchase,” he ground out between his teeth, tone heavy with condescension. “But Master Parikh must be in dire straits if she has come now to do her own shopping. It isn’t often that we’ve patrons whose pockets run so deep – so dig into them.” He roughly shoved the sachet into her hands. “Convince her to buy this instead. If she is truly in such a hurry then she will not have the time to waste bartering, much less going to seek it at another shop.”

Of course it did not surprise her that Dinesh was shoving his unscrupulous business practices upon her. It was far from the first time he had enlisted her aid in ripping off the more affluent of his customers. It reminded her far too much of Kugane to be comfortable but, once again, she had little choice but to go along in her present circumstances.

She at least needed to see what it was that she was supposed to be offering as alternative if she wanted to have half a hope of selling it to the prickly alchemist. Ghoa tugged open the sachet to see what was inside, but upon realizing just what it was, her protesting look turned back up towards the man.

“You cannot be serious,” she began in an imploring whisper. “For her needs, this would be thrice the cost for half the potency.. If not less, after just how long it’s sat here on the shelves. If she’s going to be traveling out to an island where supplies are scarce, then–”

“Mrga take you, woman!” Dinesh snapped, almost too loud in his frustration, as he snatched the pouch again. He continued in a quiet seethe, jabbing a finger in Ghoa’s face.  “I’ll do it my bloody self! I won’t miss the boat on a windfall like this because of your bleating.” That hand in her face now waved her off impatiently as he made for the storefront. “Now, go! Sweep the floors since that’s all you’re bloody good for around here.”

For a long moment, Ghoa stood in simmering silence in the man’s wake. Her hands clenched into fists at her side as she watched him turn on his charming salesman act upon the decidedly unimpressed Sarasvati. But true enough, just as Dinesh had predicted, the woman only offered up her complaints alongside a healthy pouch of coin.

And that made Ghoa’s temper flare even hotter.

As Sarasvati made to depart, the Mankhad wheeled around back to the shelves with a renewed fervor. With Dinesh thoroughly distracted counting out his beloved coins, Ghoa grabbed a bottle of the reagent that Sarasvati had asked for – no, two. After a moment of thought, she plucked another vial of ground herb from another spot as well. The master alchemist hadn’t requested this one, but Ghoa suspected it might be of use to her. And after the small fortune she just paid to Dinesh, she certainly deserved a little extra showing of customer appreciation.

Stuffing the reagents into her pocket, Ghoa made for the door with nary a look towards her supposed teacher. She had almost slipped out entirely before he seemed to notice her leaving, a squawk of dismay rising from him just as she reached the door.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he snapped. “Did I not just tell you the floors need sweeping?”

“Sweep your own gods-be-damned floors, Dinesh!” Ghoa finally snarled back, the words like the strike of a coiled serpent for their venom. And gods, were they satisfying. “I quit!”

[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.”

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIVWrite 2022 Prompt #5: Cutting Corners (Ghoa)

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[TW] Beware for there are dark and depressing vibes ahead. Sexual assault, drug and death mentions.

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As Ghoa stared out into the harbor towards the Navigator’s Pride, the ship upon which Master Sarasvati had so graciously booked her passage to Eorzea, her brow furrowed and her lips set into a deep frown of consternation.

Travel usually didn’t evoke such a deep feeling of negativity within her. Restless as she was, any opportunity to go forth and discover new horizons that she had only ever imagined had sparked within the ever-wandering Mankhad delightful anticipation and wonder. Even when she had decided to flee Kugane, despite the rotten circumstances that had pushed her towards it, the thought of arriving in Thavnair and being able to begin anew had given her not only excitement, but hope.

Staring at the ship that would now bare her across the sea, however, she felt no excitement at the new beginning to come. She certainly felt no hope that things would be different there.

Sarasvati’s scathing words to her the evening prior as she had retrieved her from the gaol had still not ceased their reverberation within her skull ever since their poisonous uttering. It had been one thing for the mentor she had so deeply admired and respected to express her deep disappointment in her wayward pupil. But a certain sentence kept playing on repeat in her mind, over and over.

“I was the one who created the monster that was nearly their undoing!”

Ghoa's stomach churned once again with the complicated feeling it evoked within her, sick nearly rising up the back of her throat in answer. Instinctively, she wanted to rail against that accusation. She wasn’t a monster;  she was a victim of a string of horrid circumstances that had led her to such a state of desperation. She wanted to do better, to be better. She could be. She would be..

But another voice whispered in the back of her mind, filling her with doubt. 

‘What if you truly are the monster she claims you to be, Ghoa?’ it hissed, primed to pounce upon her weakness as a hungering baras would stalk its prey. ‘Maybe that is why the gods cast you aside.. They saw how rotten Their child’s heart truly was, long before she herself did. They sent you to the Kharlu because their cruelty was what you deserved. They sent you to the Mifune family because their hearts were as black as yours. They took Ino from you because you didn't deserve her love, because you're incapable of loving anyone but yourself.'

Her eyes squeezed shut against the words and her stomach revolted against the thought. Unable to hold it back any longer, Ghoa crumpled over the side of the railing, retching into the waters below as any protest she might have against that voice of insidious doubt died within her then. 

Because they were right, and the realization of the truth they rang had suddenly and violently turned the world she had thought she knew upside down with sickening clarity. 

It wasn't from victimhood her penchant for cutting corners and going errant when things became too much had been birthed into life. It was because her heart was black as the storm clouds that had heralded her arrival into this world. And looking back on it now, she saw all the signs so clearly and wondered how it had taken her this long to see them for what they were.

When the Kharlu had selected her at the Choosing, Ghoa had beseeched Elder Unegen to put an end to it. The duty-bound but clearly distraught Elder Stormcaller had refused, and so the young apprentice udgan had cursed her for it even when she knew that for Unegen to do so would endanger, if not spell the end of the Shuurga.

Living amongst her captors, she had looked into the eyes of Bayanbataar's myriad children and smiled all the while praying with every onze of her being that their father would not only die, but suffer for his crimes against her. She had even contemplated bringing that very fate to bear against him with poison no few times as his hands wandered uninvited over her body. It wasn't for his innocent childrens' sake that she had not acted upon it, but the fear of swift and deadly reprisal against her for daring to harm the Kharlu's beloved Khan.

When finally she had escaped their grasp, Ghoa hadn't allowed herself any worry of bringing the wrath of her Kharlu pursuers down upon those who had harbored her during her escape, like the kindly Kahkol whom had nursed her back to health. Without a doubt in her mind, Saran and Muunokhoi would have fought them to protect the weakened Xaela had they come calling for her. But Ghoa would not have done the same for them.

Perhaps the most egregiously obvious sign was her time in Kugane spent thieving, deceiving, and concocting drugs which ruined just as many lives as they ended. Worse still, Ghoa had paid back the very woman who had saved her from the wolves of Hingashi tearing her apart with an infidelity so blatant that it had ultimately led to her dying for a love that the Mankhad was clearly incapable of reciprocating in earnest.

And then she had become so good at her own black-hearted ways they she had even deceived herself into thinking she was capable of change and of doing better when she had fled here to Radz-at-Han for a new start.

As Ghoa stared down into the dark, murky waters lapping at the dock below, her heart raced and her chest heaved and her eyes burned with tears she stubbornly forbade from falling where any passersby might witness them.. Because the worst realization of them all had broken over her like an angry, crashing wave.

All the pain she had felt and the suffering she had endured.. It was because she had tried for so long to be something, someone that she was clearly never meant to be:  a person of pure heart and intention, a force of good in this godsforsaken world. Moreover, a person who deserved peace and happiness. 

But now Ghoa saw the truth. She was owed nothing. She deserved nothing. So if she was intent on wresting anything good out of this wicked existence of hers, she would have to do so with claw and fang bared as she climbed upon others' backs to seize it as her own. 

Master Sarasvati had been wrong about her, Ghoa thought with sardonic bitterness, but not about her assessment of her. She was a monster, just as the Hannish woman had accused.

But not one of her mentor's making.

[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. 

[sea-and-storm]

Mistakes Were Made

Whatever lingering fatigue Ghoa might have felt from that thrice-damned tea was all but a thing of the past now as she sat in her room at the Nylor manse, head in her hands and heart pounding in her chest.

Of course she and Nabi had known going into this that walking into the lion's den was a great risk, but they had decided that the cons were far outweighed by what they stood to gain. They were going to be cautious. They had plans, contingencies for when things inevitably went awry.. and not a single one of them had mattered. Ghoa had clearly underestimated the doctor, that he would play his hand immediately upon their arrival.

She supposed there was a small chance still that things were not as dire as she worried, and perhaps that had been another reason why she had backed down. If paranoia truly was getting the best of her and naught was amiss, she didn't want to blow the chance that they had worked so hard to obtain. Again. The sting of her first failure was yet fresh on her mind. 

But that possibility seemed increasingly unlikely as she reflected on all that had happened in such a short amount of time. That they were immediately drugged rung far more sinister in her mind than simply the eccentricity of an odd pair of nobles. Their separation from one another. That Ghoa had been forbidden from leaving her room, unless she chose to leave the manse entirely. That even Estrid had been barred from Nabi's presence.. And worst of all, the Lady's recollection of her nightmare -- of a mysterious her being tied down, pleading and fearful -- heaped on top of all the other signs of trouble twisted her stomach into a hundred knots just to contemplate its meaning.

But even if Nabi was under duress, what could she do? At present, the Mankhad hadn't a clue of where she was being held. She had no idea of what sort of state she was in. Even if she chose to raise hells, given how vastly she was outnumbered by the guards roaming the manse, it was unlikely she would be able to find her by simply guessing and hoping before she was subdued and removed from the premises - or worse. And she could not - would not - leave Nabi here alone.

So she would have to play her cards carefully here.. Far more carefully than she had ever had to play them before. A situation such as this made the memory of her days spent making moves under the watchful eyes of Elam Graves' lackies seem like child's play in comparison.

Her hand shook as she held the quill to the paper, equally as unsure of what to write as to what she should do to aid her dear friend. She could only assume that whatever note she wrote would almost certainly be read by other prying eyes before reaching Nabi's own. So, she would have to be careful. Subtle. She began to scratch out the beginning of the note in flowing Hingan script before stopping short. No, no.. Such an overt attempt at secrecy by using language itself would be plain as day. Not to mention that there was no guarantee that Nylor himself nor anyone at his beck and call would be capable of reading Hingan. 

And so she would have to go even more subtle than that. A message that was plain to all upon its surface, but would speak to her friend upon a deeper level. 

'Think.. Think…" Ghoa's mind hissed as she abruptly stood up from the desk and marched across the room to the window. The silence of her room was broken only by the sound of muffled wind chimes alighting on the wind just outside as the breeze gently coursed through the flowers. A peaceful song of nature so at odds of the dire events unfolding but ilms away upon the other side of the glass. 

But.. that was it, wasn't it? At least, it was perhaps her best chance.

Her brow furrowed as she hurried back to the desk, and the quill began to scratch against the parchment with a renewed ferocity. 

-----

Nabi,

The dear Lady Estrid has had a most fitful night. I worry for her wellbeing, how she suffers so, and want naught more than to give her what aid I can. Another performance would perhaps do much to lift her spirits. I have great hopes that your song can reach her through the darkness and guide her to the light so that my dance can whisk her away to the safety and mirth of faraway shores once more. 

Do tell the good Doctor that his lady sister is awaiting us. Perhaps he might take a brief break in his testing to allow us to tend to Estrid's nerves? Regardless, I'll be awaiting your return in the room so graciously provided to me. The flowers just outside the window here are most beautiful and they whisper inspiration to me. 

-----

As she finished the note, Ghoa held it up and read over it carefully once more. It was as subtle as she dare make it, hoping that Nabi would pick up on the implied message while hopefully also slipping past others undetected. 

Folding the note in her hand, the Xaela moved back to the window. Carefully she made to unlatch and open it, breathing deep of the morning air and setting her eyes upon the flowerbeds outside that she had mentioned.

"I can't claim to know how Nabi's magicks work exactly. And I don't know if this would even work.. but I know the earth speaks to her as the storm does to me," she found herself whispering softly to those flowers. And truthfully, feeling more than a little ridiculous for it. She couldn't say that she had ever beseeched any sort of foliage for help before. But desperate times called for desperate measures. "I'm not certain that you can even hear me.. But if Nabi should read my note and call out for me as I hope, I pray you will send along her message." Her brow furrowed. "Somehow. Upon the breeze, mayhaps..?" She groaned, feeling even more ridiculous. "Seven bleeding hells, I don't know. But we could just really use your help right now."

[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.

[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!))