#House Cress of Ishgard

[house-cress]

[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.

[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."

[vahalia-cress-archives]

[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

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ Whispers in the West Winds ⸸

She had seen the partial sands of Dalmasca and the vineyards in Lea monde. She had seen the port of Valnain and the old ruins of buildings and warehouses that scattered the areas of Dalmasca like life had fallen to time. She had seen the frigid snowcaps of Coerthas and the ice caverns nestled away within the hollows of the Central Highlands and she had played witness to the fickle clime that kept Ishgard in a state of perpetual winter. Some days there would be plenty of sun and the vapor of a cold breath on the wind and other days there would be so much snowfall that walking out in the weather amongst the city was a task in and of itself.

But Vahalia had never been to Tural.

In truth, while she had been all over to many places and spent much time abroad in the free cities, she had yet to be remotely close to adventuring out in more wild areas such as woods and jungles. Perhaps in her younger years while on her apprenticeship she had more of a knack for exploring than she had recently.

Business kept her busy though at current with business booming and qualified folk on hand, what kept her from such now?

The Matriarch of House Cress made her way through the streets to the Gray estate which she had been to a handful of times before – if that. Though today it would bring about a new reason why she had ventured out in the cold snap that Ishgard had been experiencing. Suddenly the thought of the sun and rumored green canopies overhead hadn’t sounded too terrible.

A long scroll had been rolled up and tucked under her arm, well kept with a few rounds of twine and in her hand was a small box and an envelope that accompanied it under a tight decoration of ribbon. Such a small gesture and making it presentable was certainly the doing of either Annette or Marion, both of whom thoroughly enjoyed the moments they could decorate.

Pleasantries were shared between Lady Cress and Tilly as Tilly escorted the sable-haired woman up the foyer steps and towards the myriad of hallways that led them to Cordelia.

As Vahalia entered the room, the sound of the well-kept fire crackled and popped, an ever-consistent feature of the Ishgardian home, mixed with the metronomic ticking coupled with soft pricks of the needle pushing through the thick fabric as Cordelia’s intent held steady on the embroidery at her front. She was not oblivious to the arrival of her guest, the gentle and graceful footfalls differing from the quicked scurry of Tilly’s step, and yet her attention remained on her work a moment after the entrance. 

“Lady Cress, Miss.” Tilly respectfully announced after offering the softest clearing of her throat. She waited not for the confirmation that Cordelia heard before turning and leaving the two women to their matters. 

The repetitive moves paused as Cordelia lifted her work to admire the half-completed design against the firelight before tucking the needle under the woven yarn and resting the embroidery hoop on her lap. Once affording Vahalia her attention, a rare occurring smile came as she plucked the monocle from her right eye and tucked it into the small pocket on her upper chest. “Ah, Lady Cress, what a pleasure. I received your letter, I apologize I have yet to return word, things have been a bit… chaotic as of late. Please, sit.” 

“No need for an apology,” Vahalia spoke and she made her way further into the room, the swish and swath of black following in her wake as it often did, glimpses of satin and lace, the eerie slither of the fabrics towing behind as if beckoned. Free fingers found the side of the metronome that swayed with a gentle tick in rhythm. 

How very alike the pair had been, even from afar, it was as if they had been the two to share a womb with how alike they had been over the course of time Vahalia had come to know Cordelia, perhaps more kindred spirits than she and her own sister, Valeria.

Crimson lips split into a faint smirk as Vahalia turned back to the Lady of the House, “I’ve come with a gift and some information you might find rather intriguing. Since it has been two months since we last set eyes on one another, you might have heard of the children.” stepping forward Vahalia offered the envelope toward Cordelia and she took the opportunity to occupy the seat across from her, resting the long scroll and box within her lap, “I had a small portrait made up for you if you wish to have it. Idalia and Evran is what I chose to go with.”

Before reaching over to accept the envelope, Cordelia set her embroidery down on the dark wooden table that was settled in front of the fireplace between all the seating. “Another small bit I planned to add to that never sent the letter. I was unsure of the proper…protocol, I suppose, for these types of things.” Her delicate fingers went about undoing the envelope and pulling the portraits out to examine them with softened features. “Beautiful names for two beautiful beings, strong names.” With a nod, she looked up now to Vahalia. “Congratulations, House Cress has been blessed.” 

“Indeed we have,” Vahalia replied with a small smirk allowing Cordelia to continue.

Leaning forward again, Cordelia gently rested the portrait atop the fabric nestled in the wooden ring, her intention to have it framed at the earliest availability. “You said you had something to discuss, would you care for tea or refreshments?” 

A wave graced the air between Vahalia and Cordelia as she waved off the notion. She didn’t have a care for bothering Tilly, “A few things to be exact. But first, It is my hope that you don’t mind another gesture. It isn’t to imply anything or place pressure upon you but I had thought it to be in good form to gift you with something a little more personal.” listing forward, Vahalia offered the small ebon box to Cordelia.

“Valeria and I have family rings, which is common for most noble houses as you know and I came to the conclusion that Adrian would have wanted you to have one. I’ve read the letters and everything you provided and I can tell that he had some affiliation with your mother. Perhaps the only love I’ve seen comes from that man. I cannot blame him for that, at the very least. Moreover, I think my grandmother would have wanted it more.” sharp golden eyes looked over Cordelia’s mien and Vahalia corrected herself, “Our grandmother.”

Once more Vahalia’s hand waved, “Metals and gems from the family stash, or what is left of it. They hadn’t brought much with them from Dalmasca when they fled. One of the lapidaries in town made it specifically for you.”

After she had accepted the small box, Cordelia went about removing the ring from its nestled position within. A jeweler, herself, she allowed a moment to inspect, or rather, appreciate the gems and craftsmanship. As Vahalia spoke of family rings, her gray hues glanced to the silver loop around her right finger that had been given to her by her own mother and it brought a faded smile to her darkened lips. 

“Your timing could not be more impeccable.” Cordelia began as she snapped the box closed softly and set it to join the gathered bunch on the table before her. The ring remained held between fingertips as she spoke further. “I have been doing some contemplation, a bit of back and forth within myself, and I have concluded that I do hold interest in learning further of my lineage within the Cress name. That is if it is something you are still willing to share.” Slipping the ring from her right hand and replacing it with the gifted one from Vahalia, Cordelia shifted it now to a different finger. “As well…” her voice carried off as she pushed from her seat to cross the room to her desk, pulling a drawer open and retrieving a similar yet longer-shaped box to the one her ring had come in. 

“I had hoped to have finished this before our prior meeting, but I wanted the jewel settings to be in a specific way and well, if anything I am a perfectionist.” As she returned to the sitting area, the box was afforded to Vahalia with a smile before Cordelia found her seat once more. “Three gemstones, the center larger one for yourself and the two smaller for the children. Seeing as we are family, I thought perhaps a new heirloom to pass on, a piece born of new paths forged together.” ” 

Crimson lips turned upward with a curious undertone – once more the pair far more alike than they had ever been led to believe – seemed life was funny like that. Receiving the box Vahalia too opened her gift to partake in appraising the craftsmanship. For a stint, she had almost forgotten that Cordelia herself had dabbled in gems and jewelry. It had not escaped Vahalia’s notice that Cordelia herself had chosen to don the ring in her way, shifting her old one aside though not entirely discarding it. To her, it showed Cordelia had been willing to embrace both.

Perhaps not the outcome Vahalia had foreseen; surprising nonetheless.

“You have my thanks. Of course, I am open to helping to answer any questions you might have. If there isn’t an answer I have but one you seek then we will simply find it together. That is the design.” nearly forgetting about the large scrolled parchment tucked under her arm, Vahalia offered it forward, “Coupled with everything prior, I have this. What does your schedule look like and would you be interested in a small task across the seas to the west?”

As Vahalia offered the reassurance of guidance regarding learning further about her lineage, Cordelia nodded slowly, her lips affording the slightest hint of a smile. The question, however,  brought about a curiosity in Cordelia, a brow rising just so as her head tilted at a bit of an angle. With a single, fluid motion, she bent at the waist with an outstretched arm to retrieve the rolled parchment. Once settled back into her normal sitting position, she undid the twine that held the shape in place and began to unroll it as eyes flicked up with silent questions to Vahalia.

"Tural." She spoke with keen interest, the familiar land masses were mapped out along the large parchment, every chartered continent and islands along with various safe routes for sea faring vessels -- likely the handy work of the cartographer Bancroft that Vahalia kept on hand.

"I have on good authority via her quartermaster that Ophelia was set for Tural weeks ago. While she might be several steps ahead of us, the Sea Scorpion would cut the travel in half. Furthermore, she's assumed to be there still. I want to see her in shackles and in our custody to answer for her betrayal of the Circle." Vahalia's softly colored golden eyes met that of Cordelia's steely blue, the pair matched with a depth of sharpness too. The debt could only be paid in blood. That was the way of things -- the cost of betrayal was a high one; her very life would eventually be forfeit.

“No doubt trailing the rumors of the City of Gold in the continent. Gold does not interest me, but the prospect of business and revenge does. Tell me, sister, what piques your interests most of all?” Vahalia’s hand lifted and the crook of her finger found the apex of the map’s edge Cordelia held to better peer across to her kin.

“Tural? That is a rather long and treacherous voyage, is it not?” The question came out of curiosity and seeking validation as opposed to suggesting that either of them could not fair the journey. That was of no concern, the two were a force but together it was becoming clear that the pair would be something far more.

 With keen ears and silent lips, Cordelia allowed Vahalia to continue. Her stormy eyes shot up and over the edge of the map as her kin pulled her attention away from the markings. “Crimes against one Cress is a crime against us all, is it not?” She scoffed and lowered the map to her lap. “Then again, I suppose she truly did damage to both of us whether by association or in actuality. I say she should surely pay for those crimes and who better to dole out that punishment than us?” 

Crimson lips twitched into a smirk. Playful at first but then it darkened coupled with a venous gaze – Cordelia was thinking like a Cress. Perhaps, she was simply herself all along and it was the Cress blood that brought the sinister in her. The deep, dark, and ugly parts only a Cress could ever embrace, “Then you seek payment in blood as well.”

Vahalia sat back as her hand along the map now busied itself to thumb over the ornate design of the filigree and silver etchings of her choker, pad finding the cool and familiar smoothness and facets of the onyx that shifted at her throat when she spoke, “Tural will be a long voyage but quite a bit of the time can easily be shaved off on account of my plans to take the Sea Scorpion. She’s set to sail to Limsa tomorrow morning which should give us plenty of time to plan and pack for the voyage. Take whom you wish, within reason of course. The ship will not be able to lay anchor at the port and we will have to be accommodated by a smaller vessel inland but that is hardly an issue. Of course, I’ll have Miss Bancroft on hand to help with navigation. I’d prefer to avoid Shade’s Triangle at all costs. The reefs that stretch coastally around the continent are known to be thick and crowded, far too much of a hazard to sail larger vessels closer to the city of Tuliyollal. However, we’ll have suitable lodgings there within the city. Respectable for any amount of time we choose to remain.”

Cordelia released a side of the map, turning it to maneuver her fingers to roll the parchment up as it once was when it was given to her. “I would only have one to accompany me and will be prepared to leave within the evening if that is what you plan.” The words were matter-of-fact, leaving little possibility that she might be unsure of her decisions.

Vahalia tilted her head as she appraised Cordelia – no, her newly found kin, “You might come to find the markets and artisans there to your interest. I’ve heard a great deal from a few who were willing to talk of the exports there. Quite the ethnic diversity as rumor happens to have it.”

“A well-rounded trip with many purposes, it would seem.” The fire danced in its reflection within Cordelia’s eyes before the woman turned to glance out the windows into the dimly lit snowy atmosphere that waited outside of the walls of Gray Manor. It had been quite a time since she had left Coerthas, let alone Ishgard and it was truthfully long overdue that she expanded her sights. “Beneficial and satisfying on all horizons, including a break from the cold.” She chuckled dryly before looking back to Vahalia. “Though, admittedly, I cannot recall the last time I existed within warmer climes. Hopefully, the weather is agreeable.” 

“I imagine so that it would be. Preferably for the trip there. So, shall I make the necessary arrangements then and be in touch? We would have much to organize before setting off.”

Settling into her seat even further, a left lifted to cross over the other as Cordelia faintly smirked over at Vahalia with a simple nod. “I will see that Wren and I are prepared.” 

“I look forward to it,” Vahalia replied lowly, raising to her feet as the woman swathed in rich, deep colors moved forward to lower and placed her lips to Cordelia’s cheek, the touch warm and in stark contrast to her icy demeanor. When she pulled back Vahalia caught the likeminded gaze, serrated and determined – never ceasing to do anything other than calculate, “I’ll be in touch. Sister.” she dared with a tender smirk.

Collab with: @promethea-silk

[vahalia-cress]

A quick map of Black Water Bay

[house-cress]

Volumes I & II of the families of House Cress.

[house-cress]

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ Mask ⸸

‘I’d go on to other. Another tyrant, a true one.’ ‘I’d likely even enjoy becoming that up until and after someone, maybe you, pulls a blade across my throat.’ ‘I just don’t want it.’

Delicate knuckles lowered to draw along Idalia’s face as she slept.

Within the darkness of the room Vahalia stood centered between the two bassenettes with the twins sleeping within, blissfully unaware of the roils of the world around them. How fractured the family had been, possibly even dating back to Dalmasca.

She had to give herself some credit for trying to keep it all together despite the happenings. And now, Osric sought to take the twins back to Coerthas with him, a blessing both she and Hakan afforded him while also putting things and people in place to assist him with the twins while the Matriarch herself opted to see to wrap up business within Tuliyolall and then Black Water.

‘Vahalia. Trust me on this.’

There was a dull ache twisted into her ribs, one like she had never felt before. There was meaning to this pang but she hadn’t quite figured out why. Always reaching for more than what she was allowed, Vahalia hadn’t been accustomed to the word ‘no’, which made matters all the more difficult to swallow down.

She was desired when it was at a beck and call, the long haul as it were until someone grew uninterested and moved on to other things.

Actions spoke to her in a way where words often contradicted them and as often as she thought she was ilming more and more near to stability, the rug adjusted. Moved. The goal posts forever out of reach.

Perhaps something deep down was the driving force to working so hard to keep things together.

Palpable. Happy.

Not entirely, but one could hope.

It wasn’t as if though any parent wouldn’t want was best for their children. Especially when conversations about having more were on the table.

Hakan didn’t want her offering of him officially being her companion through life, but yet wanted his fingers dipped into Cress affairs which had been something he asked for many, many moons prior. Too much, too little – where was the line?

Tiredly, her eyes lidded and Vahalia adjusted the fleece over the sleeping infants where thoughts eventually brought her to the chair on the open balcony overlooking the shoals. A soft swish of her robe came and she settled into the spot to let the sounds beyond the walls try and lull her into a sense of calm.

She expelled a breath and couldn’t help but smile at her shortcomings, hand reaching to comb through the long loose strands of her hair that had been let down for the evening.

There was a meeting to look forward to. Two in total she would have to see to before returning to Ishgard. Hakan had gone and reached to bridge possible business between a clan in Hingashi and House Cress, a boon to be certain and one Vahalia herself had her interest piqued toward ever since he had told her of the proposal he had made on her behalf.

At least she was being thought of, that was enough to quell some unrest within her core.

Kiarra Ravensong, a name she had never heard but it was expressed that she and the Lady Ravensong had much in common. Outside of business, they both were mothers of twins simply looking to forge ahead. A quality that Vahalia herself could appreciate.

Any hard-working woman for that matter in the face of any adversary. 

The mention of silks possibly being traded would be the fray in the loom. Since she and Cordeila had become exclusive to one another in trading, transport, and textiles it would prove to be a difficult task to manage but one she would have to approach Cordeila about. If anything, Cordeila was an understanding woman and she had a mind for business and dealing as much as Vahalia herself did – there would undoubtedly be a way to keep both pieces of the proverbial pie.

Then there had been mention of Carrera and Carrera possibly having a hand in dealings to come. More fine-tuning, more meetings, more missives, more delegating.

Perhaps it was for the best that the twins were to be with Osric for a stint. It hadn’t been that she never wanted to allow him his time, but simply a matter of worry and letting her only, young children sail away from her care to be what felt like a world away. Despite the sizeable growth House Cress had met within recent years, the state of succession would always be fragile.

Her mind wracked itself with a myriad of things from worry, grief, and disappointment, elated with happiness but plagued by failures.

Some evenings were harder to find rest than others and this evening had been no different. Easing back along the whicker of the chair she gazed above to the well-thatched canopy that hung over the balcony. These days, flourishing felt like drowning and there was no easy way to depict the two.

In the morrow, another day, another mask.