#Priscilla bas Scaevola

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

...

posted with @silverscalesgoldeneyes approval

Midnight fell over Rabanastre. The cold of the desert began creeping the streets with the incessant chirping of crickets. Inside a storage room was Akhutai, the Xaela, mindlessly repairing his gear. He inspected his armor, cleaning the grime with a rag, and replacing broken or torn straps with new pieces of leather.

Then entered Priscilla, hair curling wet, smelling warm of honey, lavender and spice. She wore a sheer gown of dalmascan fashion and not much else as a smile slowly crept. “I’m sorry, looks like I missed my quarters. Must’ve been the heat of the bath.”

“I’m sure” Akhutai replied, rolling his eyes.

“Do you mind? Or were you all talk?” She asked. He took a good look at her with a slight frown before putting his armor to the side. She locked the door, slowly strutting her way to him.

She pulled up his undershirt slightly before tenderly placing her hands on his skin. He reached down to kiss her and she allowed herself to close her eyes. She lifted his undershirt slowly, gently feeling a mix of scales, muscles and scars on the way up. She chuckled as she failed to get his shirt through his horns. Their mood resuming moments after when she gingerly pulled on the only lace holding her gown together. Akhutai reached down again and while they kissed he stood from the crate he was sitting at. He slowly turned her around before grabbing her by the hips and lifting her on top of the crates. She unbuckled his pants before laying her back on the crate, a pleased smile on her face.

She opened her eyes to find his glowing orange in the dark. It smelled damp, of wine and death. She found herself unable to move as Akhutai raised his hand, in it a silver dagger. He snarled as he plunged it into her heart.

“BLOOD FOR THE SERAPH”

Priscilla woke up on a cold sweat, gasping for air. She was in Malla’s room in the Prima Vista, fully clothed. Her journal and quill scattered on the floor in front of her. Was it a nightmare? Or a vision? More importantly, would she dare share it’s contents with the rest?

[rasenkaikyo]

with @magitek-powered-calligraphy​

It was to the convenience of the Majestic Theater's staff that the Prima Vista had a fully stocked bar setup not unlike what could be found in the Sandsea, especially for a round after a triumphant performance.

At this point during the softer hours, Hinako sat alone at the bar, having placed before her a set of items for tea, including a small dish with fine green powder and a bamboo whisk. In silence, the Raen sipped her tea.

With a thud, a bottle of Vintage Lea Monde was placed on the table. Priscilla sat next to Hinako moments afterwards with an empty glass. She uncorked the bottle without much words and poured the deep crimson liquid in her glad. She swirled the wine around a few times, lost in thought, before placing the glass back in the bar table and pushing it away from her with the tip of her fingers.

She looked to her side to Hinako for the first time. Her eyes slightly bloodshot. Her face saddened, almost pleading. Her mouth barely opened as if she was deciding to say something.

"...How's your wound? Feeling better?" Hinako looked to the bottle and then back to Priscilla, invoking the close call she had with that creature beneath the city.

As ever, Hinako smiled to her with an assuring, genuine warmth and comfort, but at close glance even she could not conceal the apparent fatigue in her eyes - likely from rest cut short, perhaps having burst into tears recently... or maybe both.

“I wanted to thank you…” Priscilla nodded. “I wouldn't be here without your intervention.” Her gaze dropped. “Thank you… gods, we are so fucked aren't we?” She rested her arms on the bar. “Carrying eikons on our pockets…”

Hinako nodded to Priscilla's gratitude, but did not readily respond to her sentiment. Wistfully, she looked to the glass of wine, and then back to her tea. Setting her own cup down, she partially filled one of the empty cups with the green powder, put some hot water over it and gently whisked the mix together. Finally, while giving a soft sigh, she placed the cup of tea near Priscilla.

"You know, I don't think we had any opportunity to speak after I joined, before this mission. I'm sorry that it had to be under such terms as these." Hinako continued to smile, albeit with a hint of sadness on her visage.

Priscilla replied with a corner smile as she grabbed the newly poured tea. She brought it close to her face and allowed herself to breathe, her expression softening. “This brings better memories…” She spoke. “Let’s make the best of it then. My name is Priscilla bas Scaevola, I am a writer and recently have been chronicling the Riskbreakers adventures.” She sipped on the tea and she felt some of the stress leave her forehead.

"Mm ♪." Hinako turned back to her own tea and picked it up; breathing in, taking another sip, breathing out. She felt more light return to her.

"I am Daigo no Hinako, of Iwa. 108th in a line of high priests. I had been friends with the company for a couple of years now - and with the dream of having further lands like Doma see the sun rise, I aligned my interests with RISK and pledged my aid."

“Like a princess, are you? There’s some elegance to the way you carry yourself.” Priscilla raised her eyebrows with a her own assessment. “I come from a family of engineers. My desire for writing went against their wishes. Then in writing about heroes I found myself a traitor to my nation and at Ashelia’s doorstep.” There’s melancholy in her smile. “Now I chronicle everything that has been happening with the company in order to publish it. People need to know…” She trails off.   

Hinako had chuckled softly at Priscilla's small assessment. It was strange; she had never really considered herself a princess, and yet over the time since she first left Doma she began to consider if those words were more true than she had realized.

The priest rested her cup and stared down at it for a moment. She knew that at this point, it was uncertain especially now to determine the way of these chronicles, but...

"...Auracite. Scantily referenced in some Doman scripture as 'seiseki', I think. It is said that time and again, heroes have convened with twelve stones to change the course of history. The Dalmascans have placed great faith in them."

Hinako glanced back towards Priscilla. "I know... I know it's tough to consider, and even I struggle to comprehend it, but... I pray that what you publish next will be able to detail how heroes found the resolve to push through adversity, even when turned against themselves."

“The belief the kami dwell in objects.” Priscilla recalled. “I guess the auracite is no different.” She nods a few times.

“I hope you are right, for everyone’s sake. I really want you to be.” Priscilla pauses. “Because they way is currently unfolding is going to end in terror and blood. You saw the place we were. Nive’s touch. Ashelia’s voice speaking of blood and sacrifice. There’s more than one agenda at play…” She trails off, eyes watering. “I know not what to do. I know not if our friends are still there. I want to save them, but I am just the writer…” she takes a long sip of her tea.

"You are right... there is a clash of agenda," Hinako muses, setting down her tea and folding her arms. "We are talking of these stones seemingly serving ancient beings, that which transcend our morals, what is considered good or evil... and it is scary. For us, and our friends, to endure something that one struggles to comprehend and to have it control, to have it act beyond the will of the individual. I don't like seeing what has become of many a Riskbreaker, including Lady Ashe.

"However... In the end they are still limited. It depends on all, if the resolve is steeled and the will is just, to rise above them. That is the conflict we need to stand vigil for, and we should be there for them for no one should have to suffer alone. Temptation can be great, and we needs help steer with whatever guidance we can, lest they drive themselves into oblivion. And if it can't be helped, then we need to find whatever reasonable way we can to pry the stones from their grasp, and heal."

Priscilla smiled, weakly but genuinely. “This strength you possess, to see light beyond this darkness.I do not know how you do it. To have that stillness of mind whilst I panic about impending doom.” She gestures a flourish with her hand as she speaks. “I can see why you would be fitting to be a high priestess. A beacon of light and peace, resolute and comforting. I imagine they looked up to you, your people.”  

Hinako glowed, letting out a quick breath, as she lowered her arms to prepare more tea. "We come of different vocations, after all. I do the best I can for them, and everyone..." It felt, there wasn't much difference between now and then, after Doma fell. She recalled the words of assurance, yet honest, she said for the people - she said to Mozu. That which served to secure the bonds between them. Such was her way.

She had faith that her words were not hollow, and she would not allow them to be hollow now.

"...As I will keep doing for you and yours, Priscilla. For all of us. We'll get through  this, together."

“Careful, princess” Priscilla smiled. “You’ll make it hard not to fall for you.” She laughed, trying to cup her mouth with her hand.

“But more seriously. What drove you? To travel away from your home and into the fray? Duty, vengeance, love?” More at ease chatting with Hinako, Priscilla finally procured a small notebook from her pocket. I am a writer. She reminded herself. “Also, what’s happened since you’ve taken the stone? Have you felt changes?” She inched her empty cup towards her. “Should at least document what’s happened, if not for us then for those to come.”

The ‘princess’ couldn’t help but laugh herself, and blush a little at Priscilla’s statement.

"Ah, love, maybe..." Hinako replied first, finishing with her cup. "I have someone who is fighting a good fight against the Empire, and after having reached a certain point of stability in Doma I thought I might join her in my own way, you know? From there, fate guided me here."

She looked to Priscilla's empty cup and opted to set her up with more tea as well. "As for my stone... If this is any consolation, I have sensed no invasive influence. Not biding its time - actively it is not interested in me as a 'vessel'. Simply put, Adrammelech is an entity of pure wrath, and I am not."

The priestess grinned a little and passed fresh tea back Pris' way. "Still we can reach out to one another, and recently it visited me in my dreams, as I slept."

“A dream?” Priscilla raised an eyebrow. “Was it trying to convince you? Warn you? Threaten you?” Her fingers played with a pen while she thought. “Was it because of your resistance? Or do you think the others are experiencing similarities?”

"...It is tough to say," Hinako replied, a bit of a frown appearing on her face as she recalled the dream, and the intensity of the feeling she felt. "Its presence was mostly ambivalent, but it did give unto me a vision, a lurid look into the past; truth of what we saw in Lea Monde.

"There was a woman and two men - two brothers, the younger undeniably being the man RISK captured. Grissom. ...They traveled deep underground to that altar, whereupon it the woman was handed the stone now in my possession by the elder brother. Then, with little warning in a seemingly tender moment, he put a dagger in her abdomen.

“He said he needed her soul as he twisted further. 'Blood for the Seraph, Blood for the Lady, Blood for the resurrection', the brother cited... but in her horrible final moments as she screamed and writhed, the woman was consumed with such great wrath against the man that a violent change was triggered. She pushed back -- A statue present at the altar embraced her, until they were one. The multi-armed, two-faced being of flesh and stone."

Priscilla’s eyes widened at the tale, her fingers loosely covering her mouth in slight terror. “Do their tales speak of a leader to these auracites?” The gears in her head began to turn, trying to extrapolate a conclusion between all this. She frowns recalling the events at Lea Monde. “Is it enough blood, My Lady” She fakes a deep voice, reminiscing of the words Nive’s body said. “Do they wish to resurrect this Seraph? Not that I would blame them, if they have been imprisoned in the stones for eons.” She ponders. “But why tell us? Why show you their plans? To flaunt their inevitability? There’s something we must be missing...”

Priscilla takes a few seconds before putting her pen away. “Sorry for the musings.” She grabbed the fresh tea and took her time to smell it before sipping again.

"It is fine, truly," Hinako said with a nod, before sipping her own tea. "I believe the Seraph in question is definitely Ultima, the High Seraph. One of twelve, legend notes that she was the de facto leader of these beings who rebelled against their empyrean masters. They failed and were subjugated forevermore."

She reached behind her and pulled out the book she has been holding on to, setting it on the table. "It makes sense that they would seek freedom, but there is so much left in the fog beyond that for sure." She furrowed her brow a little. "All I know is that even if I were subjected to the whims of demons, nothing could drive me to turn on another for blood sacrifice. Whoever yearns for it shall not have their way.”

“They shall not have their way.” Priscilla repeated with a nod. “That, we can definitely agree on.”

She allowed herself some silence with the tea and the company before continuing. “I think we are starting to move on the right direction. Information is crucial to conflict. Knowing the cards we’ve been dealt is half the fight. The other, like you mentioned, is in their hands.” Priscilla took another sip, trying to swallow the slight helplessness she felt. “Have you shared your vision with the others?”

Hinako shook her head and gestured palm-up. "Mm-mm, I haven't yet had the opportunity to see anyone over it. Mostly I needed to think about what I had seen, first... I do believe I know where I can find Nivelth, and perhaps I can cross with Akhutai along the way."

“Just…” Priscilla took a second to find the words. “Be careful. And Thanks”.

Hinako smiled back and gave an assuring nod. “Of course.”

[thecat-inthehat]

⭐️ pris/hel ⭐️pris/nive

⭐️ Nive and Pris end up having a very “Oooooh that crazy Eorzean” kind of relationship. Pris (rightfully) thinks Nive is insane for risking her soul to fight primals and tame them, and Nive starts to casually mention more and more insane things she’s done. She is waiting for Pris to call bullshit on some of them. 

⭐️ Pris and Hel tend to gravitate towards each other at odd hours, usually late at night when most other people are sleeping. Hel keeps a semi-nocturnal schedule because of Nive, so she’s up when Pris is editing her novels, and sometimes offers her thoughts. Said thoughts can range from in depth character motivation to “protagonist hot”

[onwesterlywinds]

The Manuscript

As Edge napped in their inn room, Ashe took what would be her last stroll through Kogane Dori for the foreseeable future. They had already booked their passage back to Ul'dah for the following morning and planned to send themselves off with a final night of celebrations at their favorite sake houses.

"Excuse me," came a woman’s voice in Common, light and airy with the barest hint of an accent. "Not from around here?"

At first she made no move to reply, let alone acknowledge the voice at all. There were countless ijin in the city, and chances were that she was not the speaker’s intended target. Then she made to approach a kimono stall and found a tall, pale woman in an Eastern gown at her right, looking with great intent at her.

"Ah... no." Ashe would have preferred to disengage, even as she wondered what this woman could be getting at - she was obviously no Hingan. "Can I help-"

The woman shifted ever so slightly, and as she did so, her auburn hair fell back from her forehead to reveal a Garlean third eye.

"Right," the woman said. Ashe realized she must have made some sort of face at the sight of it. "Pardon my curiosity, but do you perchance happen to liberate nations for a living?"

Ashe scowled. Her first instinct was to suspect and prepare for some sort of threat; inwardly, she cursed herself for not having brought along any weapons while alone, aside from concealed knives tucked into her boots. For good measure, she added in a couple of profanities for the Sekiseigumi and their damned provisions against combat: if a fight broke out, she supposed she would be cast as the instigator. "What do you want."

For all the animosity in her reply, the woman - the Garlean - seemed overjoyed. Clapping her hands together with a giggle, she said, "Is that a yes? Oh, but how I forget myself - it is not often you see a hero walking around on your same street!" Before Ashe could puzzle out whether or not the woman were serious, she continued, "My name is Priscilla bas Scaevola, and I am a writer."

"And you'll have to forgive me if I don't say my name too loudly. I have no doubt that several of your people's spies would be greatly interested in hearing it." If she isn't a spy herself.

"Oh, no doubt!" the woman replied. "And I appreciate your discretion: if they spotted us together, my own charges would only escalate. Here." She procured, seemingly from thin air, a stack of haphazardly bound papers. "It is better if you see for yourself. Though please don't rip them; they took me a while to rewrite."

Ashe accepted the strange offering, cumbersome though it was. The front page carried more than a few coffee stains - not unlike her own free company reports - across a title reading THE REINFORCEMENTS.

Casting one last confused glance up at Priscilla, who was positively beaming at her, she flipped open the bound pages. The entire document was hand-written, which was even more of a task for her to make sense of than the printed word; she did, however, skim through to find her name on most of the pages, as well as "Riskbreakers," "van Baelsar," and - closer to the end - "Ishgard." When finished, she flipped back to the front cover to make note of the name on the front cover. Even Ashe could tell at a cursory glance that it was not the name the woman had introduced herself with. Upon piecing through it letter by letter, however - P.S. Wright - her jaw dropped.

Surely this was some sort of very elaborate joke - because one of her favorite romance novelists could not possibly be writing about her free company.

"Sorry," Priscilla interjected as Ashe reopened the manuscript once more. "There must be lots of inaccuracies. Which is why I was hoping for a moment of your time - for an interview."

"You said your name was...?"

"Priscilla bas Scaevola. I started using that pen name for only some of my works. Didn't want my family to know about my more... unconventional literature. Imagine my face when I saw my own mother reading them!" At that, she burst out laughing. "Well, they were bestsellers..."

Priscilla had mentioned "charges" against her - and with the manuscript in her hand, Ashe suspected that the cause was for far more than writing lowbrow romance novels.

Bestsellers in Garlemald.

"If you would indulge me," said Priscilla, holding out a hand to receive her manuscript, "I'd like to chat in a less crowded place, even if only for a couple of questions. I understand if you would rather not."

Ashe had questions of her own for this woman - though she was hardly certain of where or how best to begin. "Very well." She had a tracking device on her person to alert Edge in the event of an emergency, though she would rather not use it on the last night of what was supposed to be a Garlean-free honeymoon. “Only a couple of questions.”

Priscilla grinned. "Fantastic! Have you had dinner yet?"

"I haven't."

"I know a great place. Plenty of privacy."

"Lead the way."

And true to her words, Ashe kept several paces behind Priscilla as the woman began anew her cheerful walk through the markets. Their destination led them away from the inner hubs of the city, toward a quieter district Ashe could not remember the name of - and for every Garlean soldier that rounded a corner in the middle of a patrol, Priscilla ducked behind a makeshift hiding place and indicated for Ashe to do the same.

Whatever sort of crimes against the Empire this romance novelist stood accused of, they apparently rivaled even that of the liberator.

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

Maybe a little late to the party? Still would be nice if people tried to fill it out and we can get to learn a bit about each other’s characters! Even if we have not met in game!

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

Cleaning herself after the first mission, Priscilla found herself wondering about the room in small-clothes, lost in thought. Maybe she forgot how far away from home she was. Maybe she couldn’t be bothered to care.

She went to the trunk holding her belongings to find her writing gear when she noticed her shaking hands. The same hands that earlier that morning almost failed to disable a bomb. She closed her fist and she examined her arm. She thought of Akhutai and of Alma. She wondered if her father would had made her a pair if she had lost them today. Did he knew? Did he cared?. She faltered.

She could almost hear Serbius words. How she shouldn't be playing at being a soldier. How he was willing to do the fighting in her stead. She grabbed her journals sat on the floor. She wondered how much her incompetence would had cost her. Would had cost them.

She wondered and she wept.

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

You were right...

Sunrise peered through their small room inside the Sandsea. Underneath the sheets were both bare, embraced. Last night when she arrived she had yearned for intimacy. Just not the kind driven by lust and the time spent away from him. What she yearned was warmth and safety. To be held tight and told everything was going to be okay. What she yearned for was a balm for a wounded heart. A warmth she found on the known, the old. A safety she felt in her oldest friend. A safety she thought lost and not be found anywhere else, not after all that's happened. For his part, he found solace in her safety. She needed a pillar and he had sworn to be there for her. He swallowed his worry, his anger and his feelings of incompetence and inadequacy. Raised by a few pillows he silently laid there, brushing her hair with his fingers as she finally fell asleep.

The lamp by the bedside table was lit. She refused to sleep in the dark even then. Not that she slept much during the night, sobbing until the beginning hours of the morning where she exhausted herself. He stayed awake during the ordeal, ready for her to speak even if he was not sure how to console here, then relieved when she managed to sleep. It wasn’t until the heat of the afternoon when she woke up once more and began to speak.

“You were right.” She began, her voice weak and a bit hoarse. “You were always. And you knew it, right? That is why you came here. Why you joined…” She sobbed. “I want to go home.”

Serbius parted away stray strands of hair from her face, but said nothing. For all he knew, the words he'd always wanted are unfolding before him. But he did not feel happy, or elated. None of that mattered now, just her immediate safety.

“I wanted to be a hero. Like the books I love to read. Like the books I write.” She let out a bitter smile. “But I am not like them, or like you.” Her tears began again rolling down his chest. “I watched them slowly change by those stones. Not knowing if it was them anymore. Not knowing if calling them out would spell my doom. Were I to speak against them, would it had been me who ended a pile of dust and ash? I was powerless to do anything. Or maybe too terrified to try. I couldn't shoot. I was inches from the legatus and I couldn’t do the job. I could only write what could have been the end of us all. The events as well as my thoughts and conjectures...” she allowed herself to chuckle. “A lot of my guesses were right… maybe I should’ve been a detective.”

“What… what happened?” Serbius finally asked with a soft and gentle tone. Minutes passed. Priscilla shook her head instead of answering and worked her way out of the bed, searching for wherever she had dropped her gear when she entered. Moments later she sat back on the bed with her trusty rifle on hand. She pressed a few parts of the grip and before long a compartment opened containing journal entries she had crammed in.

“Hid the most important here in case… well… in case you found it.” She looked away, embarrassed. While it was settled within her that she could have died in the campaign to Rabanastre, she was more worried about the sloppy and hasty confession that was also written within those pages.

Serbius grabbed them gingerly and unraveled them, reading them one by one. Once again, between those pages, he found what he always wanted to hear. But he said nothing on the matter. “I should have been there.” He whispered before beckoning her back to his side. She complied and they spent the next couple of hours going over the details of what happened.

Later into the evening Serbius came back to the room with a basket of fruits and a couple of canteens with water. Ever thoughtful. She smiled as he approached, grabbing a small loaf of bread once he sat back down and slowly picked on it.

“What now?” He asked. “What next?”

Priscilla took a deep breath. “I am not sure. I can’t lie and say everything is back to normal. I can’t say I don’t want to flee.” She frowned at her thoughts. “For now I’ll finish what I came here to do and then… we could go.” She finished.

Serbius flashed half a sad smile. Again, things he wished to hear but the circumstances broke his heart. “Can’t really go.” He started, and it killed him. Part of him urging him to stop. Would have been so easy to say the right words, twelve knew he’d practiced them. But he wasn’t thinking of himself. “It is possible. Abandon it all. There’s a few places we could live without raising much suspicion. We could live off the land, quietly. Own a few pets, a small forge.” He trailed off. “And you would be miserable, full of regrets. No matter what you chose, the nightmares will always chase you.” He spoke from experience, flashes of his own sins crossing his mind.

She took some time in silence, soaking his words in. “What can I do, then?”

“We work, we train, we learn.” He replied, a bit too quickly, an answer he’d been stewing for some time.

“What?” She asked, not quite sure what he wanted to do.

“They are also experts in their fields. You are the most clever woman I’ve met, you also got your engineering and your rifle and a heart of gold. But they got years of fighting eikons, causing troubles and toppling governments.” His stood up, walking about the room as he explained. “In Erueka you could help because your knowledge matched the task at hand. In Dalmasca you were outmatched, and those who had the knowledge were also thralls to these stones. The answer is simple, we must raise our expertise so we can match them.”

“I don’t think simple is the word you wanted to use.” Priscilla managed a chuckle.

“We must learn of their magics and their aether. Find all the information, from books and our companions, about Eikons. Be it beast tribes or kami, how they are summoned, how they thrive and how they have been defeated. We must learn of their healings arts and their restrictions. Everything. The information is within our grasp. If you really want to help them, you must raise to match them. If you want to save them next time, you must aim to exceed them.”

“It’s gonna be an undertaking.” Priscilla frowned.

“Like being back at the academy. Be ready for some actual training as well.” He smiles. “There is much training you missed by never joining the military. I know I wanted you to keep you away from the front-line. But I realize it will be safer for you to be ready for it… Reminds me.” Serbius sat back down on the bed. “Can you craft a gun-blade?” Priscilla smiled.

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

The end to the Riskbreakers.

((A follow up to this))

Another parchment rolled finely and jammed inside the grip of her gun - her protector- Heiral. 

The stones, they are sentient. They have wills and voices. 

They have plans. 

The Riskbreakers are changing. We are in trouble. Their touch kill and corrupt. They speak of blood and sacrifice and act like nothings happened. Trust no one who has touched one. 

I have to do something, I must save them! But how? Like you said, I am no soldier. Hinako has information, a book of sorts. I wished to speak to her but she now has a stone, so I worry. I feel a mistake in my actions will spell my death. They have made people disappear.

We went to Lea Monde in look for clues, anything of value. What we found was a monster and another stone. I fear that was their plan all along, the auracite’s.

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

To Serbius.

If you have found this, I am dead and you have found this inside the grip of my rifle. If not you better be ready for a world of pain whenever I find you.

You were right. I was not cut up for this and I probably paid a heavy price. When you can, please publish the books for me. The world needs to know. Our Garlemald needs to know what happened. But if I am, in fact, dead there are more important matters at hand. Bellow are my theories at the moment. If it came to the worst, consider them facts and please, please try to save them.

First. The stones, the Auracite, are evil and sentient. Do not touch them and do not fall pray to them. If my theory is correct this was our downfall, or the beginning of it.  

Second. I wondered why the Dalmascan princess had not used them in her efforts if they were so powerful. She probably knows better. I think the fact that they ended in our possession was on purpose with the intention to destroy us from the inside. The fact we have not come in direct opposition with Garlemald makes me think this might be the Legatus plan all along. 

Third. Right now I do not know the state of mind of the rest of the company. If Ivaan or Malla are still with us, I’d probably defer to them. They seem among the most skeptic, and if I am right that might be their salvation. 

I am sorry it came to this. Know that while I am properly terrified of what’s to come, I do not regret this. I wish we had more time for ourselves in the Sandsea. I wish I could had been the woman you wanted me to be.

Where I to live a thousand lives, I’d probably make all these mistakes again. 

If I were to meet you a thousand times, I wish to fall in love with you again and again. 

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

“Wake up, sleepy head...”

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

Disident’s Lament

My time in the Sandsea has been a blessing so far. Sad and exciting in equal measures. A cup of coffee with no sugar or cream, it’s bitterness a reminder of your choices. A blooming rose with the hopes and blood of a better future, it’s thorns pricking me as a sign of distrust.

Who am I to touch you when my kind have muddled you so?

If I open my heart and soul to them, will they believe me? They have no reason to trust me apart from Ashelia’s vouching. I have no way to say I am not a spy or the some very elaborate ruse by the Empire.  My only option is to be transparent and honest with what I do. I will let my book speak in my stead.

A group of valiant heroes fighting against all odds for the betterment of the realm. These people are becoming walking legends. The kind of stories who made my young self dream are happening in front of me. History is happening in front of me and then I realize fate gave me the guise of their villains. Oh how I wanted to hide my forehead and my name when I passed through those doors.

A drunk Lominsan pirate telling recent tales in exchange of some booze and some company. A noble Ishgardian out on a vacation to the far east, passionately retelling the end of a thousand-year war. A drinking friend complaining about their work as a Garlean soldier, a man at an Inn kicked their ass with a broomstick the day before.  I carried with me stories of bars, exaggerated and inaccurate. Now I am finally collecting these stories out of the heroes themselves, and as I tune this story into history I am confronted with every hurt and atrocity my people commit at every turn . Horrors and depravity that I must keep in this tale as well as the pain and hate in the expressions of those who have shared their story.

I hate it. I hate my silent complicity.

I wish I had done something sooner

I wish I had done something more.

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

A relaxing time~ 

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

“Care for a swim?”

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

Bang!

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

Looking for trouble!

[magitek-powered-calligraphy]

Priscilla trying out the red! =)