#House Cress of Ishgard

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ Departed ⸸

Rain.

She loved it because it was a rarity to her, given her place of residence for many years. It had seemed like eons since she had witnessed such within the northernmost parts of Aldenard.

Memories were easily a blur, a haze of blips that barely made it into her consciousness. They were there, buried deep, set to death with portions of her past she had sought to forget; day-to-day erasing the parts of her that built her into who she was today. Easily cast aside as simply a matter of growing.

But who was she beneath the elegance, business, inheritance, and ambition?

Vahalia’s thumb smoothed over the tips of each finger, watching as the rain she welcomed to her palm soothed her warm flesh. A cool sting that reminded her that Ishgard had not been too far off from Black Water Bay, outside of the encased perpetual freeze that was what she had called home but had little to no emotional ties.

Emotional ties…Mmn…

Just the painful reality she had once lived there, even still despite how she found herself on the cusp of a move before the year’s end.

“Lady Cress.” The man approached with a heavy jacket, and the parasol along her shoulder lifted, angled, and properly kept her frame exiled from the downpour.

“A pleasure to see you again Callum.” she hummed and turned towards her familiar. Even in the rain, he wore the tell-tale symbol of his connection to his work within the market and among the Bay with the White orchid that was pinned to his breast pocket. His neck turtled into the large collar of his attire and his vibrant gingered hair wasn’t easy to miss. His scruff had been heavily grown out since she last saw him.

“Quite the day you’ve chosen to be out here.” he laughed, hands diving into the depths of his pockets and his attention washed out towards the stretch of the Laeves they had been there to visit, “Much of the debris has been seen to as requested by your proxy. As you can see much more remains to be done but it is better to decide now while you’re here if there is anything else that should remain.”

“Appreciated.” she mused quietly and the pair began to walk the stretch of the Laeves in a slow gait as they spoke. Callum filling in the Lady Cress on the soil, land, fertility, the make of the stones and ruins they had cleared away, and what further use they could be in future projects.

Light golden eyes roved over the lands – her lands, a small swell of pride knotted within her stomach as her eyes caught something not too far off.

Vahalia strayed from her company who eventually followed her and the pair came to stop before several sets of sporadically placed rings, all varying in size but all remained the same in which the circumference of the circles were peppered with white mushrooms.

Lowering, Vahalia crouched to get a better look at the fungi as Callum spoke, “Are they safe to eat?”

“Quite.” Vahalia responded with a small smile, dimple forming neatly on her cheek, “Mane mushrooms, or the ‘shaggy’ Mane Mushrooms they’re called in some places. Tall white caps, almost a scaly appearance –” she stood once more overlooking the collection of circles that natures bounty had drawn into perfection. Art.

“I can have them removed for you if you’d like. Of course, if they’re to be a nuisance.” Callum spoke, his hands coming out of his pocket as he lifted a foot to cross over the curve of the white mushrooms along the ground. Instantly he had been caught by Vahalia’s arm who barred his way at his chest to keep him from going further, “--Or not?” he looked down to the woman, puzzled.

When it seemed he had withdrawn from his attempt, Vahalia lowered her arm away and she nodded to the rings decorating the ground, “It’s wise not to step into them.”

“Why is that if you don’t mind me asking, they a trap of some sort?”

The sable-haired woman shook her head, “They’re Fae Circles, some call them rings or halos. Harmless enough until you step into them or disturb them. It’s said that they’re marks on the earth where witches have once held their rituals during certain days of the year or the turning of the moon. Some claim it is where the Fae dance and if there is one thing we know, we ought not to disturb the Fae or be tempted by them.” she smirked looking up to Callum, “Nor to tempt them.” she added.

His brows rose and with a small nod his hands dipped back into his pockets, “ Aye, very well then.”

Looking back to the collection of rings Vahalia lifted her hand to point out the locations, “I want these secured, fence them for the time being if necessary. I have an idea for this space.” she paused once more and looked over her shoulder, “An acre or two might do from the Laeves. I have an idea of what I wish to place here now. Expect the blueprints in the coming months and we’ll begin the work.”

“You’re commissioning me again?”

“I am. As I recall you don’t seem to scoff at the prices I’ve offered for your work. I’ll be sure to offer equal or higher value for your time should the project be of interest.”

Callum laughed and lifted a hand to comb his wet hair back, eventually coming to stroke at the beard he had been sporting in recent months, “Aye and I suppose you’re not going to tell me what this idea of yours is?”

“No.” Vahalia smirked gently, “I enjoy keeping people guessing.”

A small chuckle was shared between the pair until the transmission off the linkpearl in her ear buzzed to life and she placed a finger on the piece.

As Vahalia took a few moments to partake in the conversation from abroad, Callum lowered himself to pluck up one of the mushrooms and spin it between his fingers.

“I must go, something of grave importance has come up. I’ll be in touch.” She offered and Vahalia turned on her heel as she stalked along the slick grass in a hurry. Her gait picked up until she was bolting as fast as she could in a run for the Markets.

It has still seemed so far off and discarding her umbrella entirely she balled her hands into fists, willing herself to run as fast as she could through the slick grass, mud, and cobble.

‘I need you.’ She thought to herself.

Creature was silent behind her eyes and barely the shadows stirred until the faint growl of him echoed in her head as she had disturbed him.

‘I need you now!’ she beckoned. A hand flashed to her necklace as she ran, clutching it.

‘Need or want?’ the voice called back to her, scratching just behind her ears as it always had. She felt his maw upon her, his presence closing it.

‘Creature!’

She beckoned again, her voice loud within her mind's eye, the rain blurring her vision as she raced down the cobbled path, the market center within view but still far off. The sting of salt filled her nose and the fog that rolled in from the docks within the bay had her lost to Callum’s view.

Her legs moved faster, a sprint almost unworldly as Creature’s strength coursed through her that even within the grasp of the elements, Vahalia was very much the predator on the island due to Creature’s intervention. She veered towards the road, clearing logs and stone that had threatened her pace.

The voices from the market filled her ears and the lanterns hung brightly within the walls as she raced down the alleyway and streets of the Quill & Coven, shoving past all those within her way as the Aetheryte came into full view and when her hand flew out to reach for it, everything turned into blue fractals around her.

Wet, back in Ishgard the chill cut her to the very marrow but it had not stopped her from her destination. The warmth of the Cress estate prickled her flesh, fingers sheer ice by the time she burst through the door leading into Valeria’s room. It was the dead of night by the time Vahalia had made it back – a place she had left months ago for Tural.

The heat of the room that came from the fireplace within seared at her eyes but the vision before her was unmistakable. Annette had been weeping at the end of the bed, hands clasped tightly and she had been giving prayer in Halone’s name, something that had not been practiced within those halls for nearly a decade.

A prayer in Valeria’s stead.

Her feet barely moved and for the first time since leaving Black Water, Vahalia slowed, narrowly moving as she closed the distance between the threshold and bed. She had not noticed the open window and the curtain lulling in the chilled breeze when she swayed by it, she had not noticed the plush carpet underfoot or her blood sparking back to life from the warmth.

Tangled in the sheets of powdered blue, her hand lowered to feel the cold, fresh blots of vitality that had pooled and stained nearly the entirety of the bed, on and under Valeria’s frame. The very same that ran with life now within Vahalia’s veins.

“Valeria.” she spoke, quickly leaning in as she frantically cupped her sister’s cold, blood smeared face as a cacophany of emotions coursed through her, “Valeria!” She called again and she felt Annette curling in behind her to try and contain the Matriarch. A silent struggle beginning between the pair as Vahalia fought to connect and find something that remained.

“Val…” teeth grit, eyes welled and her hands trembled over the cheeks and forehead of her sister, “Sparrow….little sparrow…” she pleaded in desperation. Her chest heaved quickly and the ungodly wail that left her was eventually buried into the depths of Valeria’s unmoving shoulder as she knew right then and there, there was no life left within her kin.

She was cold. Stiff.

Long gone though that had not stopped Vahalia from remaining within the reality of what was transpiring.

“Please. PLEASE! You cannot leave me alone!” her hands clung hard to the nightdress her twin had been wearing, the darkened stains of sanguine bleeding deep.

Annette sobbed into the handkerchief she had been holding and when she reached for Vahalia once more the woman snapped over her shoulder, “Get out. GET OUT!” and the frame of the elderly woman eventually retreated from the space though left the door open.

Every part of Vahalia crawled into bed next to her sister as she placed her forehead to her kin and wept. She had wept for hours, not moving from the space next to Valeria’s body and when reality began to fade back in, her eyes sore and heavy, she lowered her hand to remove the sheets exposing the very places and wounds that had been Valeria’s demise.

Attacked while she slept. Peaceful and unknowing of what was to come.

She had struggled her entire life and only in the recent year or two Valeria had begun to bounce back from the spurn and betrayal of her father, past lovers who had seen her less than, her accident, and the struggle she endured with her health thereafter.

Valeria had hardly known peace. She had not yet begun to live.

There had been so many plans she had in motion, how she was to take over the Cress estate in Ishgard, having more of a hand in the business Vahalia led. She had a job she enjoyed and despite everything she had been faced with, Valeria was always the spark of joy within the house. Forever smiling, always kind, unfaltering sweet and gentle.

Vahalia had lost that part of her, the balance that made her whole. The kindness she knew she needed was a gift that could only come from Valeria herself.

Guilt ate at her the entire night, peppering kisses at Valeria’s cold knuckles and holding them to her face as if it were the last time they were ever to meet. She couldn’t even remember what their last encounter had been about or what the details had been; time had robbed her of the memory of something she thought could be so trivial. In hindsight, it would have been the most significant at the moment.

Had they taken tea together before Vahalia’s leave to Tural?

When was the last time they sat and shared a tart?

When was the last time Valeria bounded into the study regaling Vahalia of the relics new to her place of work?

When was the last time they fought?

Valeria’s still and cold hand cupped between her own and placed on her forehead, “I’ve failed to give you the nutrition to survive…”

Contrition.

Her chest ached, her blood boiled, a sadness and rage was roiling around one another that Vahalia couldn’t make sense of. The spark of pain and adrenaline only caused her to sob harder, rolling Valeria’s knuckles along her forehead.

“Forgive me. Forgive me….Forgive me.” she muttered as a mantra through her tears, over and over until exhaustion eventually came to claim her.

It was morning before the body had been examined and taken from the room. Awake and in the corner, Vahalia stared at the empty bed, all that remained was the blood of her sister. Aside from the material possessions within the room, naught else of Valeria remained – not even her scent of perfume. The copper tinge hung in the air, metallic and washing away whatever sensation of salt Vahalia had experienced in Black Water.

She was numb, eyes trained to the spot she and Valeria had laid together. One left behind, one having passed on. The very same place they had laid at night together talking, the nights she held Valeria to lull her to sleep when she had returned to Ishgard after four long years.

The very spot in which as children they’d giggle and hunker under the covers to read a story when it was long past lights out. The times they had pillow fights, the same bed she had sat beside when Valeria was ill.

Memories.

These were the ones she remembered and they were painfully reminding her of what joys she had in the haze of the past. While all else was suppressed it was the ones with Valeria that shined through.

Slowly, her tired eyes cut to the open window and the curtain that fluttered every once in a while against the new, Ishgardian sun outside. She felt no warmth, no ambition of a new day as she often felt in these early hours.

Her brow knit and her attention whirled to string her along back to her senses. Her intellect that had always carried with her was screaming at her to find out more. Vahalia needed details.

There was no way Valeria had done this to herself, all the signs were pointing elsewhere. Hyaka had been out to see to a task Vahalia had asked of him, to secure the twins from Coerthas with the House guard. Bruce and Marion along with the au pair had been in Coerthas with Evran and Idalia to oversee their needs while they stayed with Osric. Castien had been dispatched on errands – the Household had been nearly empty. An ideal time to strike.

Finally, Vahalia’s feet moved and she withdrew from the room to find Annette in a brisk walk.

Someone, somewhere was responsible, far more than Vahalia had been for her folly.

⸸ [ TBC ] ⸸

@the-unfinished-grimoire for credit. Thank you for inspiring me!

[house-cress]

[vahalia-cress]

Vahalia has always been called Lady which she does not seem to mind since she knows the ins and outs of formalities though she tends to not care for them when among friends. She's a Mage of the Red, Bound by Void as her social spaces have it, and being just that she is a Red Mage but also a Reaper (with a bit of a twist) such has earned her the monikers of Mage, Magus, Witch by several and those who know her well and the plight of her House, she's known as the Matriarch of House Cress.

The title of 'The Snake Charmer' is simply a title that has followed her from other RP communities and MMOs as the character has always had a love and affinity for snakes and dabbling with poisons and anti-venoms.

OC/WoL Question.

Does your OC have any specific titles or honorifics? How do they feel about these? If they don't have any specific titles, how do they respond to being called Lord or Lady (or things such as Sir, Madam or Mistress)?

[edalene-slater-ffxiv]

DWC Day 1 Party/Chill- November 2023

There’d been no celebration for the ‘official’ date marking the union of her brother to Vahalia Cress. 

The way it had been described to her - in passing by Wyland the day of, as she had been gathering her things in preparation to leave the Slater estate per her brother’s request - it had been a rather straightforward affair. Simply signing of papers and a confirmation of the agreement that both parties had settled on. 

There was no grand fanfare, no pomp and circumstance, it was nothing short of a business transaction. 

How very fitting. 

It had been, after all, her brother’s choice to pursue the union. He’d been given every opportunity to exit the arrangement and he had continued to follow the course. 

Edalene adjusted the eyepatch over her left eye socket self-consciously before quickly crossing her arms loosely over her chest, pressing her back to the nearest wall. She’d been hypervigilant prior to losing the eye - but since losing the eye the tendency to be aware of her surroundings had only been heightened - a habit that was both a blessing and curse, particularly when she had to visit the house that was the same place where she had lost the eye. 

The Cress Estate. 

And knowing this, knowing that she had walked into what was supposed to be a conversation, simply a meeting with two fully functioning eyes and had walked out with only one and an injury that went beyond the physical,  her brother had still made the choice to continue with his decided course. 

Because what could possibly be more important? 

He had signed the papers. 

Abolished their house. Signed over all their assets.

Married Vahalia Cress. 

She hadn’t spoken to him since prior to the ‘wedding’, if one could call it that - though she’d spoken to his new wife, hence why she stood in the front hall of the Cress Estate - waiting on the final set of shipping manifests before she could depart from Ishgard for Blackwater and the Sirensong. 

Edalene’s eye shifted at the sound of approaching footsteps as one of the attendants - Marion, moved towards her with a folder, which Edalene took with a small smile and a nod, eager to be out of the estate. She’d rather deal with the chill than remain in the building any longer than necessary. 

With shipping manifests in hand she had a transport to catch - it was time to be away from Ishgard for a while and leave her brother to his choices. She’d had enough of the cold for a while.

@daily-writing-challenge

[blessed-by-umbral]

Of Implications and Tandems.

As she stepped out of the Northern Cress Manor house, her well-practiced smile vanished from her face. The chilly night breeze brushed against her cheeks and nose, causing her to wrap the fur-lined cloak tightly around her body, trying to preserve any warmth she could. Memories of the conversations she had just engaged in echoed in her mind, much like the ebb and flow of the tides under the moon's enchanting pull.

There came particular luxuries to balls and noble gatherings; the food, the drink, but most importantly the conversation. The tension within the room as the Starlight gathering ended was heavy, which promoted Ondrea’s visit the following day. Ondrea’s experience with Osric was naught, to say the least. They’ve met in passing, twice before if memory served her, and in those moments she hadn’t seen a man befit to carry their name, yet her cousin had. “Do you love him?” Ondrea’s chuckle leapt from her lips in a cold, visible vapor as she recanted such a query that happened to be extended to Vahalia by herself. Ill placed but not ill-timed. The fact that it left her faster than she could control it was surprising enough, yet it was in the company of her cousin Vahalia that caused such unabashed honestly from Ondrea as it seemed to flow from her akin to a river flowing downstream. Vahalia's face displayed a pensive expression that etched itself into her memory. Ondrea could feel the inner turmoil that consumed Vahalia, but she understood that this was Vahalia’s battle, first and foremost. The Cress Lineage’s Northern Sect had distinct customs and separate wealth, much like the Southern house had their own abundant resources and influential connections. Nevertheless, the decisions made by the leaders of the Northern Sect had far-reaching consequences that affected a wide range of people and places.

The distant hum of the aetherite indicated her intended destination, yet she found herself unconsciously straying from it, venturing deeper into the winding streets of Ishgard. The heel of her boot scraped against the stone corridor as she came to a halt, finding ease with resting her weight to the right and listing forward to press her leather clad arms atop a balustrade which overlooked the general scenery. From this vantage point, she could gaze out at the breathtaking panorama that stretched before her. Osric occupied her thoughts once again. She couldn't help but ponder over his face, his demeanor, and strangely enough, his hands. Did those hands possess the strength and determination to dig through soil filled with deadly spikes? Was he the type of person who would extinguish someone else's life in order to safeguard or elevate the reputation of the Cress family? Ondrea acknowledged that he wasn't entirely innocent, but she rarely considered anyone to be truly innocent, and she had to give him that much credit. There were pieces of the puzzle she knew she was missing but then it was Damien’s face who waded among the surface. Unclear but distinct enough for her to recognize it was him. The displacement of Damien and Osric’s personalities was palpable but was one more worthy of carrying the name? Had Damien proclaimed such love for Valeria that he was ready to delve into the throes of marriage that quickly?

If anything, this caused but a sense of relief knowing that such burdens were not in her cards although with it came that crippling solitude, a common experience for individuals with familiar inclinations such as hers. Such feelings were washed away with shake of her head.

Ondrea stood alone and surrounded by the intricate architecture of the buildings coupled with the delicate downfall of snowflakes. Everything was beautiful and for a moment she felt her ancestral pull toward Ishgard toy with the strings of her lineage. Something she felt important to protect. She stood by her implications toward Vahalia---that despite whatever reputation Vahalia might believe herself to lose, it mattered little when it came to the big picture.

Osric was a good man and perhaps that was the essence of his downfall. There were too many good parts that were easily discovered and perhaps just as easy to break. “Good men die every day. It’s the ones who hold power that survive.” A voice dredged from the depths of her mind. A voice she hadn’t heard in quite some time. It was that of her father. He often recanted encouraging sentiments. Ironic that he relayed it to her while on his death bed. “The men of this House are cursed.” Ondrea found herself replying aloud, a soft whisper which kissed the cold ether like poison. Hoisting a hand Ondrea spread her fingers incrementally as to allow the snow to fall within her leathered palm. “They hold the power that was given to him. Given to them by us.” Something strange swelled within the pit of her belly. It nestled and anchored there like an intense purpose. These were the burdens of her cousin and she, in every respect, would support Vahalia. In Ondrea’s eyes, her children would be better suited being raised by those of true blood as opposed to those who merely adopted the name. The contemplation of such thoughts did not inflict any anguish upon her, for her involvement in this matter was not as profound as that of Vahalia's. Ondrea frequently encountered the predicament of certain lenses being exceptionally arduous to perceive, although she acknowledged that they might not be the most suitable ones she also recognized that they were necessary. The pinprick of her eye shifted back toward the portal point and with it did the chill of the evening envelop itself around her. With a quiet shiver, Ondrea pushed herself from her post and proceeded toward the aetheryte to begin her quick yet nauseating trip back home.

Mentions: @vahalia-cress-ffxiv @osric-cress-ffxiv @damien-gray-ffxiv

[osric-giroux-ffxiv]

Dusk Vigil Pt 1

The biting chill of the Western Coerthan Highlands - it was never ending, never abating, though on this particular morning it seemed particularly brisk, perhaps warning of the weather to come, if the clouds on the horizon were any indication. 

Osric scowled, adjusting the heavy coat around his shoulders before shifting to the edge of one of the many buildings around the edge of Falcon’s Nest, making the long jump down to the middle of the settlement where three of his men waited patiently - one speaking with one of the area’s regulars, the Skywatcher, the four looking up as the ex-dragoon approached.

“One day I’ll get used to that…” Colson Arkwright had been a traveling mercenary for several years before being hired by House Cress. He’d seen plenty of fighters, with varying skills. Apparently, seeing a man jump and land comfortably without shattering his legs and ankles was something that he considered to be incredibly impressive - despite having been in Ishgard for some few months at this point.

Osric tilted his head, offering an easy shrug. “Perhaps - I imagine you’ll see it a few more times before all is said and done. Now, what does our friend here have to say about the weather we’re likely to encounter?”

The man in question sighed, flipping through several papers before looking up at the clouds. “Nothing good, my lord. Especially if you’ve intent to head north. Surely you felt the breeze while you were atop the tower? It’s bound to start snowing before days end, and I’d expect horrid conditions for the remainder of the week. We’ve already cautioned the merchants and casual travelers.”

“A good thing we’re neither of those.” Osric smiled gently. “Your warning is duly noted, good man, and we’ll take the necessary precautions.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a handful of gil and passing it over.

The Skywatcher remained cautious, and appeared concerned, but eventually nodded. “As you say, Lord Cress. I wish you safe and speedy travels. May you return before the worst of it finds its way here.” With another small nod he turned back to his instruments, leaving the four armed men to themselves.

“A good thing we all know the area then…” A second of his men, this one an Elezen - Silvaire Dailemont had been part of the Temple Knights for years before leaving of his own accord, and the man’s knowledge of the highlands rivaled his own.

“Indeed…” Osric hummed thoughtfully, glancing out over the wall, across the snowy plains for a long moment. “You all have warming potions and supplies, correct? Starters for fires and things of that nature. There’s nothing we need to purchase before we’re on our way.”

A short chorus of ‘ayes’ and ‘yes sirs’ greeted him and he exhaled with a quick nod. 

These three had been selected for their knowledge of the area - having been station at Falcon’s Nest before, or spent some time in the highlands, all three men were adept at handling the cold, but the weather did not bode well for what was supposed to be a simple clean out of an already ‘empty’ fort…an easy favor for an overly jumpy temple knight…

One week prior - Cress Barracks (former Slater Estate)

The sounds of metal against metal, raised voices, and of general activity surrounded him, and yet he heard almost none of it, focused in on the movements, steps, corrections - the rest of it was just noise. 

Osric moved between groups, taking notes on progress, what needed to be adjusted, what seemed to be working well, handing the notes off to the various groups instructors as he moved from group to groups - two wolf pups trotting along beside him, seemingly unaffected by the noises, but intrigued by the action. 

He’d pause, quickly jotting notes, changes to be made when a voice from the main building reached his ears - a rare occurrence for this time of day, as the building was almost entirely empty. 

“Lord Cress!”

Týr and Frejya at his feet turned and growled for a moment before he clicked his tongue to quiet them, recognizing the voice and then the face as he turned his head to look for the source of the voice. 

“Master Thierremont. Something I can assist you with this morning?”

Gaspard Thierremont had been, and seemingly still was, a Temple Knight - one whom Osric had had his fair share of encounters with while he’d been a Dragoon. 

While not a bad individual, per se, his presence did not inspire confidence or good feelings - only caution and wariness, feelings that Osric was becoming more and more accustomed to having as his…default. 

“Yes…well, perhaps. Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” 

“Of course.” Osric nodded to the nearby trainer, handing off his notes before clicking his tongue for Frejya and Týr to follow. “Right this way.” 

He led the armored Elezen through the newly renovated Barracks, to the room that had been serving as his office on the days he worked in the building, motioning for him to have a seat. “Coffee? Tea? It’s quite chilly out this morning.” The two pups moved to lay down near the edge of the desk, a pillow already laid out for them. 

“Ah…tea, would be lovely, thank you.”

A quick nod and he went about making the requested beverage, as he made his own drink - and after a few minutes, once both had their beverage and Osric was seated on the opposite side of the desk, he motioned for Gaspard to speak. “Alright, now…what can I do for you?”

“Well…not for me…for the Temple Knights.”

Leveraging the name this early…never a good sign..

Osric quirked an eyebrow as he took a sip of his coffee before motioning for Gaspard to continue. 

“You remember the Dusk Vigil…yes?”

“The Fort? Yes. Froze solid after the Calamity, everyone stationed there died, was my understanding. Some claimed it was haunted for a time. What of it?”

Gaspard swallowed roughly, turning his cup between his hands, “That last bit - the haunted bit - people have been incredibly slow to let that one go… There have been increasing reports of activity around the Vigil in recent days. To the point where we can no longer ignore it. Normally it’s so far out of the way that it’s just dismissed as an irritation, the reports are set aside, and it’s not given a second thought…”

“But…?”

“But, it’s gotten to the point where even traders who are making their way to Tailfeather are complaining about whatever is happening there.”

Osric frowned, setting his cup down on the desk. “The path to Tailfeather goes nowhere near the Vigil.”

The Elezen sighed and set his cup down before running his hands over his face. “Exactly - which is why this is becoming an issue. Whatever, or whoever has made it’s home up there is impacting things far enough south where it’s interfering with trade. And when trade is impacted…”

“People start to notice. So what has stopped the Convictors or the Temple Knights from intervening?”

“We haven’t the people - we’re still rebuilding, and the Convictors are useless unless their foe has wings and scales…even though we’ve had the discussion with them that dragons are no longer the enemy.”

“To clarify - what you are requesting is that I send a small force of my men into the Dusk Vigil to clear out whatever happens to be occupying the space so that business as usual may resume for the traders of Tailfeather and others outside of Ishgard proper, is that correct?”

Gaspard nodded, lifting his cup to his lips and taking a small sip. “Aye…that’s exactly what I’m asking for.”

Osric stood, turning to look out the window of the office, his hands clasped behind his back loosely. “It’s quite the ask you’re making, Master Thierremont.”

“I’m not expecting this to be pro bono work, Lord Cress. I may not be the Lord Commander, but I do hold no small measure of authority and the Temple Knights would most certainly be in the debt of House Cress should your men succeed in this endeavor.” 

Gaspard stood, setting his cup down and moving over to lean against the edge of the desk. “We need this handled, quietly. The renown your fighting force would receive for seeing this done, in addition to the Temple Knights being in your House’s debt ...surely it’s worth considering.”

There was a long pause before Osric turned back around to face Gaspard across the table. “Let’s get the details of this arrangement in writing, and allow me to see what reports you have regarding the Vigil. I believe we can see this issue handled for you, Master Thierremont.” 

Present day - Falcon’s Nest

“Lord Cress?”

Osric’s thoughts were quickly brought back to the present moment by a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced up towards one of the men with him - Silvaire.

“The Skywatcher seemed to imply that we’d have a few hours of clear travel if we were to leave now, my lord…you know as well as I do how imperative that will be.”

“Indeed. If we’ve all the supplies to keep us from freezing then let’s be on our way. Once we pass the bridge to the north, we’re essentially on our own. Colson, Geoffrey…”

Both men, Midlanders in their early thirties with a history of mercenary work, gave curt nods, the shorter of the two, Colson, pulling his jacket tighter around his form. “Let’s get going…more we move the sooner this is all done or at best, least we get around a fire. Colder than a witch’s titty in a brass bra it is…” 

“You ain’t never seen a pair of titties…, much less gotten to ask about a pair in a brass bra.” 

Silvaire glanced over at Osric who shrugged easily with a chuckle. “Let’s be off, gentlemen. It won’t get warmer while we stand here.” 

The four moved away from the center of Falcon’s Nest, down the ramp and out onto the snowy plains, the settlement growing smaller and smaller behind them as the wind steadily began to pick up.

It would indeed be slow going, and it seemed there would be a storm waiting for them. 

The question that seemed to settle in the back of Osric’s mind with each forward step…was just what kind of storm.

[vahalia-cress]

@promethea-silk

[promethea-silk]

Becoming Cress

The otherwise snow-clouded sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon of mountains, taking with it what little warmth the dim rays provided the people of Ishgard and Coerthas beyond. Silence fell upon  the walkways and markets, the church and ship bay, and of course, the homes of the residents of the city, be they large or small. Among them was the Gray household, most of the staff and occupants of the estate were tucked away sleeping soundly in their bed at this hour, including the Lady of the house. Cordelia rarely had issues with sleeping, her mind was often clear of worries and stress of the day before she lay her head down as she typically chose to put as little concern into them as possible. Peaceful and sound rest had eluded her briefly following the dinner with the Blythe’s. Initially for rather pleasurable reasons though once her bed no longer held two bodies, Cordelia found herself mulling over the situation that had presented itself to them. But tonight, at least at first, she put those concerns to the side after enjoying a few glasses of wine and eased herself calmly into the comfort of her bed.

The atmosphere that settled within the Gray estate once night fell was one that most might describe as unnerving, an eerie sensation that felt as though a presence followed behind you should you brave the hallways in the middle of the darkest hours. It started at the base of your spine and crawled upward, tickling each nerve until the feeling of cold breath danced upon the skin at your neck. The house itself held a life all of its own in some ways, the whispers of the winds outside the windows beckoning to be let in, soft crackles of fires burning within the many fireplaces, and if you listened closely, perhaps even the hushed sounds beings not yet still there but holding on to their place from beyond this plane within the Aether.

But even with this, yes, Cordelia Gray rested without fear unease, her chest rising and falling slowly as she relished in undisturbed slumber. 

Cordeliaaa….

It was faint, but a mere breath among the draft that danced within the hallways just outside her door. Her name floated through the air to reach her ears, luring her from whatever dreams entertained her slumber. Repeating, once, twice, and by the third, lashes fluttered as Cordelia opened her eyes. She was not startled as one might have suspected, but she lay perfectly still simply listening to the alluring voice that had no true tone or volume of any kind. In reality, it spoke and called to her and her alone, somehow she knew this and allowed it to stir her even further from the comfort of her bed.

Pushing the covers from her, she sat up slowly, her movements done in a near trance like fashion as she swung her legs over the side of the bed to slip from it and move toward the door. Bare footfalls carried her through the hallways over elegantly weaved rugs that lined the stone floors, the darkness seeming to cause no issue in her guidance within the home. Cordelia had adopted this estate as her own, she knew it better than perhaps even her childhood home at this point. A hand reached for the handle of a door, turning it until the audible click was heard before she pushed it open. Slowly, she leaned in, dilated pupils scanning the room devoid of light where the collection of busts and random unexpected items lined the shelves and pedestals. And though there were no physical beings present among the material inventory of the room, Cordelia knew that it was far from empty.

Despite being satisfied that the call from beyond was not coming from here, she entered and approached the marble carved likeness of her late husband, a hand lifting to grace the cold stone with her fingertips. “Where ever could this be coming from, Ambrose?” She mused quietly, obviously not expecting an answer but it came as more of a consideration to herself out loud.

Cordeliaaa…

The sound rushed over her yet again, a cool wisp of air fluttering the hair that covered her neck and shoulders causing her to abruptly turn to look behind her. Now, with more urgency, she carried on from Ambrose’s room and through the halls yet again. She found herself traipsing a corner of the manor that she rarely visited, most of the rooms held old family junk and paperwork, furniture covered in white sheets and paintings no longer hanging from the walls but leaning against them on the floor instead. Cordelia had fallen beyond curious and into confusion at this point, using the light from the moon as her guidance as it spilled into the room and brightening the surroundings perhaps a bit more than how it might usually. 

In one swift moment, she felt a breeze envelope her, it started off cool but then melted into a warmth. Something akin to a mother’s comforting embrace. Cordelia closed her eyes, the first of a sincere smile just barely pulling from her lips in a long time. When her lids lifted and the warmth had left her, she felt drawn to a corner of the room where she immediately went about moving dusty relics and old tattered books. What she was looking for, she was unsure of when she began but as her hand took hold of the large ornate tome the sense of acknowledgment consumed her. 

Lifting the tome from its place within the stack of other unknown texts, Cordelia carried it over to the window where the moonlight shone brightest. She brought it upward, pursing her lips and blowing gently over the dust that had accumulated over the leather bound and inscribed cover. Narrowed eyes scanned the etchings curiously, fingers tracing the outline of an ornate bell. The spine cracked and ached as she opened it, the pages having long been lost to whomever it originally belonged to and little attention given to it since. The ink was slightly faded but still exceptionally readable, bringing a shaking breath to her chest as the words announced boldly just what the item in her hand was.

Within holds a detailed account of all Cress holdings, lineage, and history.

“Why would this be here…” Cordelia blinked as she flicked through the pages with her thumb, the musty but familiar scent of old parchment filling her senses. It was the fluttering of unbound pages falling to the floor that tore her attention away from the book, setting it aside so that she could bend at the knees to retrieve them. 

Addressed to Ambrose from her mother and father, details outlining their marriage agreement and then… a letter to Elsbeth Corvin, her mother, directly. The breath in her lungs caught as Cordelia’s gaze lifted slowly from the missives in her now shaky hands to the silent and cold world outside bathed in the bluish hue of the moon. 

To my love, my dearest Elsbeth and for my daughter of whom I will never get to hold,

Adrian Cress.

[ @house-cress @sanguinecourt-ffxiv ]

[ricard-blythe-ffxiv]

DWC August 2023 - Day 5 - Wanderlust/Violation

@daily-writing-challenge

For months…months he had managed to avoid his mother’s wrath. 

Work. Previous engagements. Simply not being in the same city - what ever he needed to do, he’d done to avoid being in the same room with her. And for the most part, he’d been successful.

…But everyone’s luck had to run out at some point, even his.

He should have known something was wrong the moment he opened the door to his office - it was too warm to have been uninhabited for as long as he’d been gone - but he stepped into the room regardless, giving a long exhale as he recognized the figure seated behind his desk and kicked the door closed behind him.

No need for the whole house to hear what came next.

“I’m fairly certain there’s a clause in the contract you have with your father about keeping in contact, son.”

“In contact with him regarding business matters, yes. And I have been. There’s nothing in there about maintaining contact regarding personal matters, mother.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a tight smile as he moved over to the fireplace, grabbing one of the instruments to poke at the embers before adding a few logs which quickly caught - how long his mother had been sitting there waiting was an absolute mystery.

“Dare I ask what brings you by?”

“A mother can’t want to speak with her wayward son?”

“Not when the last time they spoke it was to berate him over the end of an engagement. A decision that was likely best for both parties. And I haven’t exactly been gone. I’ve been right here, in this house. Haven’t even left Ishgard for more than a day at a time. It’s amazing really, given my tendencies.”

His mother rolled her eyes, ignoring the excess commentary…for now. “The girl was unconscious, Ricard. Not dead.”

“Unconscious and no one knew when, or if, she would regain consciousness. The decision was made by her kin and that is that. No point in arguing it further.”

Catherine Blythe glared at her son as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you even try?”

A tired sigh. “I told you then, and I’ll reiterate it now - I spoke with Lady Vahalia Cress, the decision was made to wait for a time, the time passed, the decision was made to end the engagement. There was nothing to talk about, mother.”

“And the reason you haven’t pursued other options?”

Now it was Ricard’s turn to glare. “I’m under no obligation to rush into a marriage that I’ve no interest in because you want me to. I wasn’t rushing into anything before the engagement, I’m not going to rush into anything now. That lovely little business contract you referred to earlier? I went over it with a fine-toothed comb before I signed it, and it relates only to my work within the business, not to my personal life. I could live out the rest of my days as a bachelor and there’s not a damn thing you could do about it.”

“Contracts can be amended.”

“They can, but it doesn’t mean I have to sign it again. Keep in mind, I’m not in the same place I was when I signed the first one.”

Catherine stood, moving around the desk and walking over to look up at her son, equal parts confused and frustrated. “Why are you so averse to the idea of having a partner, of settling down?”

He shrugged one shoulder easily. “Oh…you know the answer already, mother. When have I ever stayed in one place for more than a few weeks? And beyond that, I can count the number of women who have kept my interest for more than a day on one hand - and I don’t even need to use all five fingers. But don’t worry.” He gave her shoulder a pat as he moved past, towards his desk. 

“Maybe someday there will be someone who gives me a reason to think differently - and even if there isn’t, the house will be taken care of….eventually.”

“You can’t run from your responsibilities forever, Ricard. You’ve tried that once before, remember?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair and easily ignoring his mother’s narrowed gaze - he’d been on the receiving end of that look far too many times for it to have the impact she’d likely hoped it would. “Perhaps, but I can certainly try. I’d like to think my endurance has improved considerably since then.”Everyone’s luck had to run out eventually…but maybe he could keep his going just a bit longer.

[witchofthescions]

They met up again in their usual spot in Rowena's House of Splendors. The air was much lighter, as they all discussed their plans for the future. With Guildivain arrested and the fugitives "mysteriously escaped," they were finally free to do as they wished.

"I never asked for my powers, but fate has decreed that I have them," Loifa said. "And I will use them as they were intended, and fight for the future of all lives."

Lenar couldn't help the proud smile that crossed his face. Loifa had grown so much in the brief time Lenar had known him. More and more he found himself reminded of his own personal journey.

"I'll also seek a cure for the procedure's side effects," Loifa continued. "And when I succeed, my friends will finally be able to return home, safe in the knowledge that they won't lose control again."

"We'll aid Loifa in his research, of course," Mahaud said, "and it'll be as much for his sake as ours. For all his bravado, he can't stand to be alone."

Loifa blustered, clearly caught off-guard by her remark. Mahaud burst out laughing.

"Aye, we thought that Viera men prefer solitude, but not our Loifa," Ancel said, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Deep down, he's a lonely little boy."

Lenar frowned slightly and muttered to himself, "Viera men prefer solitude?"

He thought back to Cress and all the times he'd casually lean against someone, or all the times he'd seek out him and Erna just to chat and spend time in their company. All the times he'd start up a song on the road for them all to sing along, or the times he'd swing by one of their apartments with food. And that other Viera lad he'd seen with Cress a couple of times—Svaran, he believed the man was called? He was a bit quiet, but had seemed just as friendly. If he'd based his impression of Viera on those two alone, he would very much have thought the opposite.

"Family indeed," Lalah said, snapping Lenar out of his thoughts. "As a little girl, I regarded the sages of eld with awe. In the tales, all were stern, nigh-mythical figures, untouchable in their virtues and ideals."

"I remember thinking the same of the original Knights Twelve of Ishgard," Lenar mused, "the ones who went on to found the High Houses. Pinnacles of virtue, stalwart defenders of humanity. Legends, through and through. But the more I find myself entering the ranks of these so-called legends, the more I feel that is far from the truth."

"Indeed. At their core, they were ordinary folk who bore great love for friends and family. But I feel the love the sages of eld held extended beyond their friends and family. It extended to all life. Now more than ever, I see this love in my dear departed mother. And in you, Lenar."

Lenar's eyes widened in surprise, and Lalah had to suppress a giggle.

"I... I am not so sure I would go so far as to claim that," Lenar said, sheepishly twirling his cane between his fingers.

"Believe what you will," Lalah said, with a hint of mischief in her voice. "Though I still have much and more to learn, ever will I endeavor to do my mother proud. Thank you, Lenar. I couldn't have learned these lessons—or accomplished my mission—without you. As our work is done, our time together is over. But I shall linger in Eorzea a while, and hope to hear more of you and hear your tales."

"Well, then I shall endeavor to make sure I have something worth telling when next we meet." Lenar cleared his throat and distractedly tapped his cane against the floor. "Ah, but, before we all part ways, I had something I wished to discuss."

"What is it?" Loifa said.

"Loifa, I would like to extend an offer to you and your friends. And this offer is open to you as well, Lalah."

"Oh?" Lalah tilted her head curiously, greatly resembling a curious cat for a brief moment.

"If ever you find yourselves in need of aid—or more friends," Lenar heard Loifa let out a flustered huff, "seek out The Seventh Heaven bar in the settlement of Revenant's Toll in Mor Dhona. Head through the door in the back and you will find yourself in the headquarters of a group known as the Scions of the Seventh Dawn."

"Scions of the Seventh Dawn?" Mahaud repeated.

"Yes. You may have already heard of them, and if you haven't, you undoubtedly will eventually if you spend enough time in Eorzea. We've made something of a name for ourselves recently, despite our best efforts to remain out of the spotlight."

"We?" Loifa noted. "So you're a part of this group, then?"

"I am. As such, I can confidently vouch for your safety among them, even as some of their members hail from Sharlayan." There were some noises of discontent from the trio of fugitives. "Make no mistake, the Scions are beholden to no single nation, and that includes Sharlayan. Anyway, if you decide to seek them out, let them know I sent you, and remember the passphrase 'wild rose.'"

"'Wild rose...'" Loifa muttered.

"As in, 'I go whither the wild rose blooms.'" Lenar shrugged. "Or at least that's how I wound up using it. It should work all the same. Utter those words and they will know you for a friend."

"I am flattered that you would trust us with this information, Lenar," Lalah said. "Thank you. If my travels around Eorzea take me that way, I shall be sure to pay a visit."

"And I am sure my friends would be glad to meet you."

[house-cress]

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ Bereaved ⸸

[ ♫ ]

She felt the sting of the cold on her cheeks. Had she not been numb internally, she surely would have felt the bite of the cold in Ishgard coursing through her veins. A small blessing perhaps had she not of denounced the possibility entirely due to the circumstances.

Vahalia looked worn, tired, and at the edge of emotional collapse though in public she held herself together quite well.

The last two days leading up to this very moment was both a blur and equally seared into her memory. Time ilmed slowly and painfully and for what was a familiar comfort, was now lost to her. Creature sat silently without stirring behind her eyes and the only murmurs and voices that collected at her ears were the sounds of the Priestess speaking.

All she knew were gathered within the garden of the Cress estate – in name only, the home which had been a place she grew up was merely stone walls encasing pain and torment for as long as she walked them.

It was as if a curse was designed to take every Cress woman there was. First Odessa, now Valeria. She had known there were ramifications coupled with the title and territory her family held but she had not imagined this. The very actions that had lead her to Tural and to Ophelia, eventually led her to the death of her kin.

Not just any kin, her twin. A shared womb, a shared pain through childhood. 

Valeria had not deserved this and in truth, Vahalia knew it should have been her laying on the slab wrapped in fine linen.

Already the vibrant and jubilant smile of Valeria’s was fading. Marred, scathed, and threatening to distort itself from her reality. Curse the lifestream for not allowing her a proper haunting…

At least then, a piece of Valeria would have remained beyond just a simple husk.

Tenderly Vahalia’s hand dipped into the pocket of her jacket searching for the loose necklace her sister often wore. The sharp edges of the filigree pricked at her fingers. She needed something; anything that was a connection to her splintered soul. Then again, small tokens would have never been enough to fill the void that expanded inside of her.

Carrera stood close to Wendy, Osric stood stalwart with his head slightly bowed, Vahalia could tell he was mourning in silence as the Priestess continued the rite of Valeria’s passing. Chione and Penelope held one another and even throughout the ceremony, Vahalia could feel her cousin’s concerned eyes set upon her. Aunt Adelle remained beside her Daughter – the Houses of Blackheart, Eirwen, Cress and all those who knew Valeria had been there to say their goodbyes.

A dark show of the loss of life rather than celebrating it. Alas, it was the way of their ancestors. To bless those who passed into the lifestream only to hope one would flourish anew in another life, another energy; were there evidence of it being possible. It was a pleasant thought, a good one had Vahalia been one to cling to happy endings and comforting stories.

Her heart ached again. The squeezing sensation deep within her ribcage she had not been able to shake. A tormenting grip that could not relent no matter how much she willed it. She wanted revenge, anything to quell the annoying swell within her chest, though it was easily masked by the waves of pain she had been feeling internally.

Annette and Marion wept as the younger woman held her elder and tried to console her co-worker. Bruce remained near, Hyaka vigilant. Once more Vahalia’s eyes roved over the crowd. Close friends of theirs and some unfamiliar faces she saw amongst the bodies, which she only knew by name, were people Valeria had worked with within the city.

Hakan, Cordelia, and Ricard were absent, though she knew the reasons that likely kept them at bay. Either it was time and distance, the lack of receiving the missives in time, or simply the feeling of how it might have looked how they have shown. It was no secret that Valeria and Cordelia had their differences but they were blood. Ricard having once been betrothed to the deceased Cress and furthermore, the lacking presence of Damien whom she had not seen in what felt like eons.

Perhaps it was for the best.

Rites were simply a way of processing into the afterlife and not a necessity.

When the Priestess ceased her words, her fingers dipped into the golden bowl she held as a mixture of wine and blood was flicked over linen. She chanted in a low tongue, words offering prayer with each flick and the dapple of vibrant red seeping into the crisp white fabric that had covered and wrapped Valeria’s face.

Below, she was unmarred, safe, unmarked by pain or the remnants of how Vahalia had found her. In the final verse, the Priestess drew her thumb along the center of Valeria’s forehead and a kiss was offered forth with meaning as the Priestess’s lips touched down on the linen of the deceased’s crown.

When done, flowers, woven circlets, and trinkets were placed at the side of Valeria’s body, each person taking their time with final goodbyes and leaving tokens of adoration for her to take with her to her final rest. Envelopes of letters were left behind – words that would never be read and the now vibrant wreaths of winter jasmine and rose hips would eventually wither and die. These are tokens that were cherished now but would be long forgotten in the months and years to come.

How solemn and lonely the afterlife seemed, swathed in darkness. If only Valeria could see how much she was loved.

Vahalia’s hand gripped the necklace in her pocket tightly, willing herself to step forward and place the heirloom where it rightfully belonged but her feet would not move. Rooted in place, unable to part with the only thing she had left of her sister.

She could not. She would not.

She wasn’t sure how long she had stood in the garden long after people gave their offerings and filed out. Some family members offered Vahalia their condolences and love in the form of hugs and reaching for her hand in passing – all of which had sparked little to no response from Vahalia herself.

Vahalia was not herself, she was no longer feeling whole as part of her had been bitten off and passed align with Valeria into her eternal rest.

Her feet felt heavy like she had been unable to move, feeling as if though she wasn’t sure where to go there after. A small fear of wanting to leave and forgetting everything that transpired, as if her mind and memory would remain in this very spot if she moved.

When Bruce stepped forward, the two being the only ones remaining in the garden, Vahalia barely registered his hand that rested on her mantle until he spoke, “Lady Cress, You must head inside. Forgive me for being so bold to ask but where would you like me to place her? By your mother?”

She knew he meant the family mausoleum buried beneath their very feet. The lined stone walls with stone coffins of their ancestors and family that had passed previously.

No.

She could not leave Valeria here, a place in which had been her demise.

For what felt like the first time all afternoon, Vahalia blinked, her eyes stung with warmth, “No. Prepare her transport for Black Water Bay. See to it that the coffins of Baron, Charlotte and Odessa are on the journey as well.”

“Ma’am?” her question in a low tone, curiously.

“There is nothing left to come back to here. If I am to build anew, they will accompany me on that path in life and I will keep them close.” she finally stepped forward, her hand reaching out for Valeria’s feet where her fingertips delicately felt at the cold fabric.

This wasn’t her.

All of this was beautiful but she knew deep down, Valeria was long gone and she had no other choice but to accept the passing for what it was. Perhaps in another time, another life, another bud of energy, the two would be together again.

For now – they both would have to walk their separate paths alone.

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ A Raven's Song ⸸

Another meeting under the belt and in hand, though as Vahalia often put it – a card in the back pocket. However this time it felt different, a sprinkle of personal connections dappled into business. She had quickly come to find a likeness and possible friend in the Lady Ravensong. Something she had not considered nor entertained was the equal likeness of the Lady Ravensong’s partner Signus – though there had been enough offered verbally. In the way the two looked at one another, fondly spoke, and shared sentiments that the Ravensong woman and her Viera companion were more than just a simple Lady with a strong name and her advisor. 

Vahalia knew well how to read between the lines and take things as they were afforded. She the audience and the willing receiver to absorb what she could from the two strangers she had swiftly become acquaintances with. Even reaching into reserves of kindness to invite Lady Ravensong to her abode, but also to bridge a possible friendship.

As it had been expressed by Kiarra herself, they were two women cut from the same cloth. A telltale sign of how swimmingly things could possibly go in the future between the pair as it very much seemed the case that Vahalia herself and Kiarra, we’re both women with difficult histories.

Struggle, pain, hardship and loss. Two women reaching through the dark in search for more. Ever grasping higher until it suited their pleasure.

Vahalia simply wanted to know more. She needed to know more about this soon-to-be business partner.

Lumber and ore would have gone a long way into her projects – useful at current even and enough to pique interest. The talks of trading silk and rice or possibly rice wine had been on the table but would require much more delegation and discussions with the Lady of Kiarra’s clan in trade for wines from Valnain.

All things Vahalia rattled around in her head as she climbed the stairs that overlooked the pavilion below within the busy city of Tuliyollal.

She rounded the lip of the final stair, skirts lifting at the hem as the plush grass beneath her feet found rest after the long climb. Signus was right, there were far too many stairs in the colorful city and not nearly enough lifts.

His gaze couldn’t help but linger on the inked expanse of skin above Vahalia’s hips before it became too difficult. Then he met her gaze and promptly when she halted and offered a shrug in response to her rambles "You'll either concoct a way to help each other kill your former spouses, or do that and abscond with each other." he offered, thinking out loud which was often the case when it had just been he and Vahalia, a safe space to share one’s thoughts so openly without judgment, "Oh, and Cordelia will have to be quite convincing to remain your sole provider of textiles." Hakan added with an addendum.

The Lady Cress scoffed lowly, "I doubt that, however, she does seem delightful along with her counterpart. Seems to be a man of science which I can thoroughly appreciate." she paused looking down towards the building where they had left from then back up to Hakan, "So....your Lady, huh?"

She couldn’t help herself to take the opportunity to taunt where she could. It was how Lady Kiarra Ravensong addressed her, no doubt a fond expression of how Hakan had seen Vahalia to him when he had met with Kiarra prior.

Once more, Hakan shrugged "Maybe you'll find her mind attractive enough to make an exception, once you pick it," he mused in a level voice. He folded his arms and hummed. "It was an appropriate title to use. Anything else would have been unprofessional, or potentially lessening."

"Are you hoping I reconsider my interests and bed her or simply that I pick her mind apart?" a hand lowered and reached out for the underside of Hakan’s folded arm beside her, "So you are about professionalism now or do you hide the fact you claimed me as yours?"

"The latter; I hadn't realized she lost her status, her land, and had to reclaim it. That takes more than simple grit and the backing of a more powerful clan." he let his arm be taken, fingers flexing open and closed before it too was likely claimed. "Professionalism. You are technically the Lady I serve and so, however, I might claim the reverse in private, that will remain."

Forever a well-oiled machine, it seemed. Vahalia couldn’t fault him for keeping much of what they shared to more private audiences, but even then such was only a party of two.

Hakan continued, "Whatever influence I may've claimed in the direction you take your House, you are the one with the final say, with the hand on the wheel or the rudder."

Vahalia remained quiet for a moment, appraising Hakan’s hand, looking over what she had known them to be and what they had become over time. Aiming to capture his hand she began to roll his wrist gently, palm up and placed a small, languid kiss along the side of his thumb, "Why should it remain private, what is there to hide now as we have no spouses, already have children and work towards common goals? I would argue we're beyond privacy or hiding unless you prefer to keep such quiet out of shame?" she paused eyes gazing up with venom but such was the way as she often looked, "Are you ashamed of me?" she prodded further. It wasn’t as if courtship was a promise in the books nor was the prospect of having a husband as that axe had long since been buried.

Instinctively his thumb danced up and down, before, during, and after the kiss she had placed upon it. The affection tugged at the corner of his mouth. That quirk eased the more he listened however, disappearing entirely when he noted her look. "No," he replied, answer as hard and heavy as steel. "Regardless of how close we are, what children we have, when I conduct affairs on your behalf to unknowns I will do so respectfully."

Vahalia’s attention shifted to rove over his features, searching for something more than one might have been keen enough for her to pick up on. Shadows raked through her mind and the distant chuckle behind her eyes she had known for far too long, her face free of any joyful expression to mimic what had been lulling within her head, "Why?" she asked. Perhaps not an actual question she wanted to ask but it came all the same.

"Because it is important -- imperative -- that whosoever might do business with you knows where the power is. That in any affair not personal, you're the one they need to focus on, to impress."

Smooth talker. Her brows came to knit and she stepped tentatively in front of him, hands moving around his own to part what stance he decided to take with crossed arms, inserting herself where she wanted -- against him, and lowering his arms around her near the waist out of the way, "There is more to this than the Cress name or what I carry. You should have equal impression." lifting her hands she slowly combed her nails along either side of his face and into his pulled back hair just above his ears. Others live so freely with their interests and desires, out in the open without shame or a second thought, they wear their connections proudly. I'm proud of you. Proud to have you. Were you to ask me to leave my name behind to take up your patronymic, I would. Not a right I reserve to no one else."

He felt her, even allowed her to nestle against his chest as she had often done, possibly finding comfort within the gesture and the loom of his frame in contrast to her own; only going so far as to arch a brow curiously while his hands went to rest on her hips. "In the beginning, I told you that I only wanted a small part of influence regarding whatever decisions you'd make for the House and the company because in the end, it's yours. I understand, now, that you want to share it with me. I appreciate that. But ironically, selfishly, I want you to remain the face of both because they're /yours/. I want you to understand that you can expand either, both, or drive it into the ground to nothingness with my support regardless of why. Maybe I'll take your name as you offer, but the company and house would still be yours to do with in whatever way you please."

Attentive fingers splayed out under the taught strands of Hakan’s hair, nails gently raking in their wake, "I'll keep whats mine as you wish, I just want you. That's all." She had voiced it before, perhaps not in the best of fashions and remembering herself her hands pulled away and lowered, a soft and singlar pat from both palms touching his chest, "I don't want you to think you are not important or that all your work has gone unappreciated. I can't help but want to clutch on to more than what you allow. You have your reasons -- I have mine for feeling how I do. Forgive me. I see others jovial and they seem so open and comfortable with their stations.Now that I say that out loud, I suppose it is selfish of me to not have considered that you are happy and comfortable with yours."

He took a deep breath, then deadpanned "I'm going to shove you off this cliff." There was no weight to it, of course, but the exasperation could be felt. "I understand my importance full well, Halia, believe me. And to how much you appreciate me? That isn't in doubt. But I'm not other people, my feelings don't get hurt if I'm not acknowledged in public as often as others are."

When he spoke she allowed her eyes to wander his expression and her hands drifted away knowing full well she had begun to aggravate him, "Very well, I'll leave you to your thoughts and business and won't linger longer than is necessary, I've taken up enough of your time as it is with current business with the Lady Ravensong. Else you might actually attempt to be rid of me." there was a hint of teasing in her tone elegantly mixed with a dash of defusion. Vahalia pulled away and took to looking over the small cliff nearby, "Do as you wish, I'll head back to the cabins. I should continue to prepare the ship for leave in the coming days to Black Water."

Harshly, Hakan’s tongue clicked in her direction. His hands, clutching her hipsas he sought to drag her back close to him and halting whatever path she had set before herself to leave his presence. "You will have to do more and far worse for that to ever happen. You should know I don't relinquish what I've claimed as mine so easily..." There was a twitch to the corner of his mouth as he stared down at her, fingers half slipping beneath the skirt to dig against pale skin. "I don't need to be acknowledged," he reiterated, "-- But that doesn't mean I think you shouldn't be. It would be too easy for me to disrespect you if I did so the way that comes normally, intimately, and that's not my desire. I want those who see you, those I might bring to see you, to see you first. A woman of too much character to describe. If they learn after that you're mine? They learn that after knowing your worth has impressed them first."

Asshole.

She hadn't much of anywhere to go as she was reeled back in to his space. His denying her leave caused a furrow to her brow as he opted to make his thoughts known, "I can respect that. I understand that and your wishes on the matter. I won't press or pry further, it was merely a curious thought I had acted on expressing. I care little of what others think, you however are a different sort entirely and will always care what you think." Natrually her hand came between them, "In several months; better if it were several weeks, I will have something I wish to show you. Hopefully then my gratitude will be made clear, even though it is clear to you by my words."

In turn her too furrowed his brow down to Vahalia, curious and suspicious. He had requested she 'compensate' him well should the meeting be successful – and it was, but...It was a hard thing, not pressing upon her to reveal what likely was meant a surprise. A painful thing, truthfully, to a mind like his. Pursing his lips, exhaling sharp, he nodded. "Fine. In that case, I'll start now to give what you'll see after several moons too, though the evidence will show far sooner. It won't do, having your brood compared to hers and be seen as less."

Vahalia would have scoffed had she not of laughed first and her hand patted several times between them -- trying its best with what little room there was. Had she of been the blushing sort, surely she would have, "Easy now. I'm speaking of something a little different than what you have in mind. But since you've so kindly reminded me, I'll get to that as well in due course when we both have time and I intend on showing you my thanks in my own way. Grant me that? Our brood or which you choose to call it will come in time. Hmm?"

He thumbed against her bare hips near the skin that decorated pale flesh, what definitely wasn't a pout bending the bow of his mouth. He took a deep breath, exhaled it, the scent of embers and spice and smoke upon the air from his cigar previously in the evening. "I would prefer to plant the next seed here...but, I will...relent."

Well sculpted brows raised as he spoke and Vahalia felt a small smile tug at her mouth, "You want children but have no care for them, simply the act of making them. Should it be a better option for you there is always the notion of simply pretending. But, what good is an empire without its legacies?" she gazed between them and where her hand rested a thought crossing her mind but she comforted herself internally with it, to sit silent with it a little longer.

Both of them knew there was no actual seriousness behind building an empire, simply a comparison he often made to her building upon the foundations of what she already had. Comparable to some, what the Cress name held and deviated from or was destined towards was their own empire to be sure.

Legacies they had built up for themselves since the groundwork had been first laid. Each stone part of the path in which they tred.

"Tst-- there's little enough to do with them beyond changing and feeding them, and as already evidenced, I'm selfish in regards to my food." Hakan eased his hold her hips, slid fingers free where they'd been pressing and pushing the skirt down with. She wasn't wrong through, despite the protest. He should feel terrible, but it wasn't in him to feel so,  "Legacies can be chains, and an heir needn't hold the same name to honor the first...but, if ours chose it of their own will...that'd be something to be proud of."

‘Ours’ He had put it so absolutely. A happy skip pulsed within her ribs.

Vahalia lingered within her quietness and sitting with her thoughts asshe eventually lowered her hands to stop him at the wrists, eyes natrually beckoned to his own as she scanned over the refined features of his face, soft golden orbs tracing the lines of his markings and scars, "If we have as say in this and planning to its fullest, where intent is solid then I want our next and the futures onward to be bore out of a place of care and adoration, not desire or needs in a moment. Whatever they choose then they will do so with something in their backpockets.”

She continued after a breath, fullying bearing her mind, “-- Proper support from parents neither of us had. I'd rather leave them to a legacy by choice than ash and ruins of failure thrust upon them."

"I see no issue with children born of the former -- The opposite, in fact. I'd not suggest nor attempt to make it a reality here, now, in this place, otherwise." He turned his hands away from her hips, sought to hold her wrists in the same manner she held his. "Yours would be a legacy worthy to inherit, of a builder."

Vahalia 's fullest attention darted over his eyes as she felt her shoulders relax when he took hold of her wrists – he was quite serious,, "I am no builder, but perhaps one of our children might. When we're dead and gone, there is little else left of us except for what we pass down. Mortal as I am, I still wish to have a lasting effect for those tied to me. To take care of them for as long as I can, even if it is only gil that holds my memory for them or a roof over their head. Heavens and hells forbid, if I leave before you, atleast there is something for you to take care of yourself with, and them as well. I think only of the long term. I leave the present to you."

Hakan leveled a flat look down at Vahalia. "You've not been paying attention to your work if you actually believe that you are no builder. Regardless, whatever comes after us won't be of issue. If we've taught them well, they'll succeed, and neither of plans on doing otherwise. And if you actually left the present to me, well..." He rolled a shoulder; he'd already expressed what he wanted in the moment and as heavy as the conversation could be, there was no changing that.

“Be it far from me to deny you the simple pleasures in life. There is work to be done, however.”

He hiked a brow as she spoke. It was only part of what he wanted, but it was the much larger part. The rest could wait as she wanted -- the work especially.

[ w/ @belgravexiv ]

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ ᚠᚨᛗᛁᛚᛁᚨᚱ ᚺᛟᛗᛖ ⸸

[ Content: DV ]

One by one the large men exited the room as small steps had approached the door in search of her mother. One by one the retinue filed out not bothering to look or notice the dark-haired girl that stood idle near the door’s threshold and well out of sight.

The flickering fire from the hearth illuminated the study well enough that she could see Odessa pacing the carpet.

“She is but a child, Adrian. Making such plans so early on is likely to have you giving your hopes up once she has come of age. They’ll have found a better match by that time.”

“Hush woman you’ve said enough as it stands that would cause them to flock like vultures if they wish. This alliance between the two lines could stabilize the much-needed income. We haven’t the time to sit and wait for it to tick by. We make the declaration and be done with it.” Adrian spat as he looked up from the flames within the fireplace, his usual evening drink of sherry in hand.

“She is my daughter!”

“And she is mine though also making her property. Perhaps you ought to have birthed me sons had you wished to not worry, nag and coddle so much.”

“A little girl!” Odessa shouted, a flurry of her skirts kissed at the carpet as she rounded on Adrian, an accusatory finger pointed towards the door, “You’ve the mind to sell her like cattle for your own ambitions, to weigh your pockets heavy! You’ve let them mislead you!” the Ishgardian and Doman woman dared to clear her mind.

There was a loud smash within the confines of the room as glass found the other side of a bookshelf and sherry begun to stain the floor, Adrian lunging towards Odessa as he grabbed her by the scruff of her dress and shoved her against the desk corner, “You know quite proper the way of things here. Your mother knew it and now you. Leave your love for them at the door and play your role as the logical wife who would do anything to see this family succeed!” malice dripped from his mouth, lips pursing as if though he sought to strike his wife though opting to afford her with one final shove before releasing.

Odessa kept her hand taught to the desk’s edge for balance, “Were I your lady love, and Vahalia your bastard, would you have done the same?!”

A sickening crack rang out as the back of Adrian’s hand connected to the face of the woman, enough to stumble her back and clutch her face, pearl earring soaring to the floor near the door where tiny fingers crept to carefully take hold of it without being seen.

“You will write to Einar Whitlock and express your gratitude for the negotiations and you will welcome his emissary when they arrive. I do hope I make myself clear, wife.” his tone inflicted far less damage than his hand as Adrian pointed towards Odessa.

Her hand dropped from her face, cheek colored with a heavy stroke red as Odessa pulled from the space she had wedged herself between and caught herself from the blow. Back straight, hair barely out of place and her hands came to fold proper in a primly fashion at her waist, “...As you wish. Husband.”

Tension hung between them in the silence before Adrian turned for the door to storm out, the small pair of boots scurrying out of sight as the infuriated man stalked out of the quarters and down the hall, his heavy footfalls growing further away, a tell-tale sign of a coast cleared.

Curious eyes watched the stretch of the hall as Vahalia stared down into the darkness of the corridor, half expecting her father to reemerge and begin the bickering anew which had often been his preference when angered. A soft sound filled the room now which piqued the interest of the little girl as the creek of the door opened and her stepping into the room barely seemed to unnerve Odessa who sat within the chair closest to the desk, weeping.

“Moder...” the small voice came and the candle along the table sparked to life, causing Odessa to lift her head away from her hand. With a smile she motioned, waving Vahalia to come closer. In doing so, the small child buried her cheek against the warmth of her mother’s skirts, Odessa fondly stroking the long, unruly locks that threatened to veil the child's face.

A low calming hum filled the room as Odessa sang gently to her child, gentle combing through the waves of sable hair and the tune carried Vahalia to close her eyes gently, fondly placing into memory the calm she had felt, the smell of the perfumes that lingers at Odessa’s attire. The cozy warmth that was simply radiant from the woman, body and soul.

There was love there, she had felt it. It was soothing.

The sound of the city stirred the Lady Cress from her slumber, the bright morning's light now peaking through the slats of the upstairs within the Tavern’s highest room. The taste of Mezcal lingered within her mouth though it was not the drink that quenched her so in the late hours, the slake for comforts she had missed for months had finally found their way back to her.

The warmth beside her roused her enough to finally shift from the linen sheets, the bare body next to her holding the familiar scent of cigar and cedar though she had only known his airship to smell as such. The pressed wood of the airship itself a scent she had never forgotten lingered on Hakan’s frame. Even the salt from the sea and the food from market stalls could not mask the trademark earthy tone and hints of his poor habit.

Lifting away from Hakan she reached for her clothing only to be met with the chill of his prosthetic on her wrist, “No --” his voice rasped, catching the morning air, “Not yet woman.” he mumbled, tugging her back within the collection of sheets.

“Too early?” she mused in a low tone and all she had roused was a grouse from his chest. His hand was ladden with a fist full of her hair as she placed her cheek to his chest.

Barely awake, barely aware of the day; she had known him to fully wake when it had been on his own time to do so.

There was a silence that dithered and she could have sworn that her company had once again drifted off. Peace was where they had been in the center of -- for the time being at least. The familiar sensation of comfort and safety rode back through nostalgia though in the form of another. A peace and protectiveness she could only feel and had felt with very few individuals. Her mother. Cordelia. Her children. Hakan.

A parallel to once upon a time.

Slow circles drew out along the rigid scars of Belgrave’s torso, lacquered nails appraising the marred flesh she had come to adore. The beautifully decorated dark skin touched by experiences and held with macabre interest. It was enough to hear the man beneath her, the rise and fall of his chest bringing forth a timbre in his audible protest.

She was up far too early, as per usual. And if one could not greet her to start the day then one would have to abide by other means.

Vahalia’s legs moved, shuffling over either side of him and she straddled his hips to loom over the figure of her lover, “Come, we ought to make use of the day. The daylight burns.”

“Let it.” the voice responded curtly and with eyes shut hands made to place at her rear, “Keep this up woman and we’ll burn the day away here. Give you something to truly complain about.” he shifted and grabbed hold of the Cress woman, where locks fell wildly and unkempt, makeup that she had typically painted her face gone, she had been as undomesticated as her will and soul as he trapped her into his arms, blankets and all.

Mine.

That is the word he had used that night. A claim, perhaps not intentional at the moment but she had been his from the very start, there was no denying it.

Once more the calm found her as his radiating heat found her core, her heart swelling with familiarity. He was no Adrian, and neither had Vahalia been Odessa but he had been her comforts where she had lost much before. A void he unknowingly filled where loss had once been.

Perhaps she could leave Ishgard behind.

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ ᛒᛚᛟᛟᛞ ᛖᚨᚷᛚᛖ ⸸

[ Trigger warning: Blood, Gore, torture ]

Voices.

They sounded distant and far off and as she opened her eyes, Ophelia slowly took hold of her surroundings. The subtle sound of rolling waves close by piqued her senses more – the sea? She hadn’t recalled being anywhere near the sea in Mamook.

How much time had passed and where was she now?

Though slightly blurred, Ophelia gazed at her surroundings and took note of the amber flickers of light that lit up the area, she could see Vahalia, Cordeila, and their two companions before her. Finding the energy to move, her hands flexed only to feel the restraints as she attempted to twist her wrists, her feet bound. With arms outstretched and keeping her from moving, the next she had noticed was the hard surface she had been placed upon in a knelt position. Cold, her knees hurting from what she could only imagine being the rough rocks beneath her slacks but when she attempted to kick a leg out she was met with a sharp sensation at her kneecap and winced, head bowing as there was little to no strength left in her to try and keep her sights on the four in front of her.

They had broken her kneecaps, she was certain of it. Likely to keep her from fleeing should the opportunity present itself.

Even if she had by some miracle, escaped, she might not have ever properly walked again. Kneeling in silence, her body wracked with thought and equal pain she stared down at the rock’s surface under her that she had been upright along, “So what now, a beheading?”

Briefly, Ophelia closed her eyes feeling the wind carry her dark locks along the side of her cheeks, somewhat soothing given the circumstances she had found herself in.

“No.” Vahalia spoke which seemed to surprise Ophelia as she opened her eyes and Vahalia continued, “You sought to undermine our business, work against us. You took under-the-table deals and sought to dismantle our trade affairs right under our noses. The very first meeting we had, we had discussed that betrayal would be dealt with with the utmost cruelty. You let your self-conceit carry you off from all that you promised. By rights, we should keelhull you and let you be with the sea but that would be far too much mercy than what you deserve.”

Cordelia looked on the exchange between her kin and on their finally captured prey with her darkened steel gray hues, lids narrowed feline-like as she seemed prepared to pounce at any given moment. The woman had been seething from a bruised pride, stubborn in her resolute resolve that she should have better anticipated the fight would have been anything but honorable. Not that she had any plans to be entirely honorable, herself, but she was angered by her injury. 

It had taken some time to recover from the immediate pain only after Vahalia and Creature had come to her aid, but she was well enough to travel and surely well enough to see that she participated in giving Ophelia the punishment she deserved. “Allowing her the fresh air from the sea at all is too kind for her, in fact.” She mused as she stepped closer to the bound woman, stopping just out of reach of her where even if she had been able to reach out for her she’d be aggravatingly close. Bending just slightly to be closer to eye level, taking note of a wound just at her hairline courtesy of the havoc Wren had inflicted before Ophelia entirely lost consciousness. Cordelia hummed softly through pursed lips before reaching out and pressing roughly to the spot, gripping the woman’s hair to tilt her head upward toward her. “Nothing personal, Lady Whitlock.” She spat before releasing the hold on her hair roughly and moving to stand next to Vahalia once again. 

Ophelia merely smirked as she watched Cordeila, attempting not to coax ire further as her fate was in their hands she lifted her head the best she could to glare at the two women, specifically the two she had done business with in the past, “There is no place on this Star you can run where my brothers won’t find you. You will get nothing from me, not a single scream. Do as you wilt but my death will only herald chaos for you both you have no idea who you have decided to attack on behalf of your vengeance.”

A small scoff emitted from Vahalia, finding both pleasure and entertainment in Ophelia’s words as she held her hand towards Castien who readily gave up her axe to hand it off to the Lady Cress. They had discussed prior all the ways they sought to make Ophelia pay for her crimes and none would have had the mettle nor spine to invoke proper punishment. Damning her, “We know plenty of you Ophelia Whitlock and we are aware of your kin and wholly welcome the challenge. Be as it may and what might come, you will not be alive to see it.”

Vahalia stalked the stretch of space between she and Ophelia as she bent, trying to gather the remnants of the woman’s eyes to find fear but all she could sense was a ferocious display of malice and hatred. With a cool tone, Vahalia loosed a chiding ‘tch’, “Such a waste of a pretty face. However, I wonder if your screams will be just as lovely.”

“I won’t give you the pleasur–”

“On but you will. And you will scream and lament your pain for the whole ocean to hear.” Vahalia retored and stood making her way just out of sight of Ophelia. Castien stepped closer as did Wren with torches in hand to offer better light.

There was silence save for the ambiance of the waves and the slight breeze, far off Ophelia could hear the frogs and the cricket’s song in the nearby woods. Still, she had not seen where the witch had wandered but knew instantly the moment she felt the fabric of her clothing being sliced away from her frame.

The sound of tearing linen was heard and then the searing pain that followed as she felt a blade cutting through her flesh. Still, not a sound escaped her and Ophelia bore down hard along her lip, eyes welling and blown wide as she focused at the rocks – the waves, something that she could 

surround herself with in the moment that didn’t represent what had been transpiring at current.

For a moment, Cordelia remained in her position, poised and stoic as she ever was, enjoying the scene before her. It was as though she was biding time, planning things silently to herself and simply relishing in the hidden pain only anticipating for it to eventually gain traction. At the sound of flesh and sinew tearing, a small tick upward of her lips flashed in her features before she began taking the steps to stand before Ophelia once again. “We’re waiting, Ophelia, to hear that exquisite singing voice I just know you have.” She looked down on the battered and now cut-open woman as if she were nothing but a crawling critter in the way and needing to be squashed beneath her boots. 

Rounding Ophelia now to join her sister, only to step closer to Ophelia while bending once again as to speak directly into her ear but out of the way of Vahalia’s work. “We will sleep soundly tonight and every night henceforth to the memory of your cries that will forever be unanswered. And should your brothers come for us, just know that they will be receiving the same fate.” She stood at her full height once more, admiring the work as she gazed to Vahalia with a knowing look, prepared to join her in the continuation of their predetermined rite. 

Even through the cutting of Ophelia’s back, she remained as stoic as one could be, hands clenched into fists and a low grunt escaped her when Vahalia dug her fingers deep into the long and deep cuts she had made. Peeling flesh from bone and exposing the spine she ensured to do so carefully and at her leisure as the scrap was carelessly tossed to the ground in front of Ophelia.

Exposed to the elements, Vahalia worked diligently as she pried more flesh and sinew from the back of Lady Whitlock, where blood had now begun to slowly pool at their feet. Ivory sleeves belonging to the witch-woman stained with vital – proof of the work done and yet what remained to be tended to.

While laboring for focused breaths, Ophelia felt the ringing in her ears and a muffled wince left her the moment Vahalia brought the axe down along the connection of spine and ribs, hacking each from their station one after the other. Body-breaking, bone-splintering shards flew from each swing, each swing bringing with it a flurry and splatter of sanguine. 

Such gore and stray matter had not stopped Vahalia from her craft as finally, the screams rang out. Finally, the music gracing her ears simply had her relishing in the process all the more and appreciating the art form. Flayed open and the rasping of Ophelia before her caused her to step back and watch how the organs within the cavity of the woman continued to work. Jarring to many, impeccable to her. She watched as the axe hung loose in her hand – tired from the labor that had been put into dismantling the woman piece by piece and still she could see the lungs, stomach, and spine fully born before them.

The heart beat sluggishly, struggling to cling to life and there was a small twitch from Ophelia’s hand, a subtle groan, and gurgling as life's essence drained forth and spewed from gaping lips. The body was experiencing a slew of shock but she was very much alive.

It was astounding, seeing how the inner workings of one’s body continued to tick even beyond so much inflicted trauma. In a macabre way of thinking, Cordelia was thankful that the heart continued to beat within its otherwise destroyed cavity to allow for the flow of blood to continue, the metallic scent mixing with the saltiness of the air around them offering an inexplicable comfort to her. Eyes closed briefly as she took a slow inhale, savoring the way it tickled her senses. Her hands clenched at her sides as one by one her fingers stretched and curled inward, almost morbidly stretching and preparing her instruments for their work. 

As Cordelia stepped closer, now taking a position where Vahalia once stood, she glanced at her sister one final time. Seeing the blood splattered over her hardened features made the woman seem only more powerful and beautiful against the firelight. Cordelia thought back to the silent moment shared between them at the falls just days prior, the feeling she had in her core that finding their goal would only bring them closer. And here it was, it was time for them to solidify their sisterhood in blood and vengeance. In one fluid yet utterly ravaging movement, Cordelia spun back to Ophelia, digging her hands into where her entire back had been flayed, the bones within broken and pulled apart, in search for their prize. Once her grip found the delicate set of vital organs, she wrapped her hands around them tightly, pulling them from their rightful place and removing them to drape over Ophelia’s shoulders without entirely severing their attachment to her.  

A pair of light golden eyes watched on and each moving piece within Ophelia strained and pulsed, there were no forming words now as the cacophony of screams that swelled moments before had eventually waned into silence. As the lungs gave their final motion, Ophelia’s hands loosed to relax and her head hung, the soft sound of her blood tapping against the rocks below as the only thing that had been Vahalia’s focus was the life leaving their enemy and the glare she felt from the swell of darkness behind them.

“Your reward.” she finally spoke, looking over her shoulder to Creature who waited patiently, “Delight in her marrow.” she offered and the clamorous shift of Creature’s weight was noticed upon ground and rocks as he pushed past Vahalia and Cordeila to the warmth of Ophelia, siphoning all that he could from the twitching corpse – still warm, aether still clinging to her being as Creature feasted, “Leave the head.” Vahalia warned and she tossed the axe to the side, “I happen to know someone who likes more macabre decorations.”

A smirk split as Vahalia regarded Cordeila knowingly a festering heat blossomed within her ribcage, feeling a sense of delight and a finale all in one. It was a welcomed hand that reached for Cordeila as she felt the unspoken sisterhood embark upon its new phase.

Devotion to the cause. Trust between blood; bonded.

Feelings she had yet to fully experience in a long time. Blood was important but coming together for a common cause to bring to keel one that had been a thorn in their side, the sister’s spilling blood on behalf of blood.

“To Tuliyollal then?”

Cordelia nodded in agreement at the suggestion for an addition to her specific style of decor, anticipating exactly where she planned to adorn it. The viscous liquid smeared from her hand to Vahalia’s as they came together. An emotion filled her being as the two looked across to one another, the sounds of Creature feeding upon Ophelia’s now dead body a lovely backdrop to the moment and both Castien and Wren rounded to meet them. 

Pride. 

“Yes, sister. Our work here seems to be done.”

Collab w/ @promethea-silk

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ A Bird Song ⸸

The winds from the sea blew vastly different than those in Ishgard, even upon making landfall in Tural. A series of breezes in which one wished for a cool kiss to their flesh was met instead with a pyretic caress. It was no wonder that much of the areas within Tural were rumored to be arid and some even bursting with life. Green canopies hung overhead in the distance and the city of Tuliyollal was brimming with color, a vibrant welcome, and a diverse pop of cultures and races – like some of the free cities in Aldenard and Vylbrand though not quite at this magnitude that Vahalia had expected.

They had paid witness to the claims of the sea within the Shades’ Triangle and heard stories of the Grand Shallows during their voyage. They had cast their sights upon the large towering structures layered from the resplendent quarter and toward the Arterial Climb before even setting foot along the docks in Tuliyollal, the grand scape of the city’s jewel overlooking the depths and markets below. 

A city full of color, wonder, and life… such was kept to Vahalia’s back as she looked over the waters and reefs towards the collective of massive ships in the distance that only sought ruin had they dared to port. The accommodations were splendid, and while cozy it was a vastly different sight than she had been used to though not entirely out of her wheelhouse since she had made so many trips into Thavnair and Radz-at-han, Such a cacophony of hues had grown on her over the years but a long and contrasting stretch from her multitude of personal preferences.

There, in the distance which was malms and malms from the balcony of their collective cabins, her eyes never straying from The Red Queen, That singular ship she had been here for only second to Ophelia herself.

There was a subtle stirring in her, part excitement but also part annoyance that she had come all this way after setting away two ships to only find out that Ophelia had been holed up in Tural. The question was, where was she now?

Certainly, she wouldn’t have strayed too far from her possessions, for a woman seeking gold and glory, that would be too far outside the realm of expectancy. 

Cordelia had thoroughly anticipated the change in climate, though she certainly underestimated the jump in heat even from what most might consider normal temperatures. There had been little hesitation in changing into even further more appropriate attire for their new surroundings. It had taken some time for her to soften and become comfortable with her newly met niece and nephew during the journey but once that barrier had been crossed, she found herself seeing to them along with Vahalia occasionally and offering entertainment.

Their things were mostly settled, the twins having been resolute in fighting sleep were finally resting soundly when Cordelia found her way down to the docks in search of Vahalia. As her eyes found the other dark-haired woman, she paused to take a moment to admire her from afar, appreciating their likeness even with the background of sun and sea. “Have you garnered any leads on Ophelia’s whereabouts?” She inquired as she eventually came to stand at Vahalia’s side, gaze following the trajectory toward the ship afar. 

“Aside from her being in Tural? None. However…” Vahalia’s voice was sincere despite the coiling in her stomach that was only fuel by the desire to find Ophelia all the faster, “If her ship is in the harbor then it’s likely she hasn’t ventured too far. I have Cas wandering asking a few questions and seeing if she can pin-point more information about the ship or the crew.”

A look cut back to The Red Queen in the distance, “A ship like that doesn’t go unnoticed. We’re on the right path if she’s made it this far. The best place to catch her would be on land and off guard. For now…I’d hate to see the trip go to waste entirely, what time we cannot give chase due to lack of information, we could always consider other prospects here. Absorb the culture.” Vahalia smirked gracefully.

As the two stood overseeing the large ship offshore, a warm wind blew against them and somehow it held a coolness likely brought in from the sea. A single handheld the darkened lace parasol just above Cordelia’s height whilst idly spinning it. The woman surely stood out amongst the bright and vibrant colors of Tuliyollal yet that seemed to bother her little. “We should keep watch on The Queen, if she recognizes that you have also arrived, I presume there is the chance she may hoist anchor.”

Her lids pinched together slightly as she gazed upward to the sky with a slow and steady breath. “The twins are finally asleep and settled. Would give us a bit of time to pursue the city, perhaps enjoy the sights all the while keeping our ears open for any unsuspecting little birds.” 

“Bird watching in Tuliyollal, sounds like we have much to occupy ourselves with for the time being,” Vahalia affirmed as she turned to her kin. Not too far off she noticed the looming presence of Wren – Cordielia’s counterpart to the trip. A welcomed one all the more but it was pleasant to see sights of Cordelia that Vahalia had never seen before outside of the word of mouth or simply assuming.

The woman was just as coordinated and careful as she was. A depth of respect for her only grew beneath her bosom as she outstretched her hand for the crook of Cordelia’s arm. Little else mattered that Hakan had not responded to her missive, much was expected from the man as she knew he could handle himself, wherever his feet happened to take him for the time being. Her linkpearl remained dormant and not a single response from Osric since she had made note of her plans to set sail for Tural and take Idalia and Evran with her, likely a product of him possibly being cross with her. Here, however, she was among like minds and in good hands and conversely.

Vahalia turned to lead the pair along the docks and sands in the direction in favor of the colorful canopies and pops of jubilant voices that cluttered the market above.

Collab w/ @promethea-silk

Mention(s): @belgravexiv - @osric-giroux-ffxiv - @song-of-wren