#Pyrar Delaisoux | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pywriting · 5 years ago

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Prompt 1: “Voracious”

Each and every person has their own desires.

Power and strength, knowledge, home, or acceptance. All things that some could wish for and achieve. To each their own stories; chapters upon chapters woven together to create that thread of fate that they follow. A guiding stone and drive to each person that pushes them forward.

Each person has their own desires. Each person has their own stories.

It was early in the morning, the mist from the night covering the ground in a slick moisture that stuck to the thick blades of grass. There was the scent of livestock and dying fires in the air. The sounds of a comforting silence, that moment suspended in time before so few awoke for.

Inside one of the homes, there was a Xaela with teal eyes, open and awake, having shucked away the lure of sleep. His fingers smoothed over his clothing, as if the appearance mattered in the moment. Beside him, on a lower bed, laid two peacefully sleeping figures. One other Xaela with his smooth scales and a miqo’te curled up under his arms and wrapping her tail around his leg.

A smile spread across Faeravel’s lips, deceptively gentle for the far more sharp Xaela. While a part of him wished to curl back with them, to wrap around their warmth and hold the other two, he stayed sitting there beside them on the edge of the bed. His eyes drifted from them, looking around the familiar room and all its features. Relishing just a moment's comfort.

Eventually, the man pushed himself back, carefully leaning over to give each of the sleeping forms a gentle kiss along their skin. A whisper of a promise to return to their sides in due time. He’d pull himself back up, using the momentum to drag his entire body to a stand and turn to the exit.

Pushing his way out from the heavy cloth and furs that covered the entrance to his home, he would glance around to the early morning around their gathered tribe. He took in a deep breath of that cool air, then took the steps further out.

There were few others out doing their chores, and none that stopped him as he strode up to a tall horse, pulling up onto it with an easy motion and then beckoning the beast to ride forward. He took no care to glance back to his tribe as he went, focusing instead on a westward direction, towards the rising sun.

His pace varied, allowing the horse the respect and care it needed as not to exhaust it, but also make the best time that he could. The day grew older, the sun was higher. Even so, he did not stop traveling.

Eventually, he’d come to a slow stop, finding a familiar sensation. It was like a spiders string drifting in the air, barely seen and detected, and just as fragile. The area was nothing of note, simply another long hill in the Steppes of many. Even so, Faeravel could feel a difference, could practically taste it on the air as he turned his horse into the direction that this tendril of sensation flowed from.

More time had passed, yet the Xaelic man did not care. Riding forward more and more, getting stronger and stronger taste of the energies… the power… the call for him.

It was a message, a crumb trail from one man that held much for him.

After another rise over one of the long hills, Faeravel’s eyes met to see his goal. A lone home- not even a true yurt, more of a tent than anything. There was a lone plume of smoke rising from inside, the only sign that there was life awoken in this little home, if it could be called such.

Faeravel urged on his horse, feeling more giddy as he came closer and closer. He sensed it, that thrilling lure of power. Perhaps in part it was his imagination and his endless hunger for power, or perhaps it was pure unabashed respect for the man that lay inside the hut.

Stopping his stead in a suitable range, he gently let the horse roam it’s all, trusting of it to stay close, while walking closer. He did not need to shout or yell, he knew he was already acknowledged as a presence here.

Pushing aside the cloth inside the makeshift home, he smiled brightly, hugging close the satchel that had hung heavy on his side for the entire day. In that dimmed room, he saw the figure across the fire, resting easy and such.

He took in a slow breath of the smoky air, then said only one word.

“Teacher.”

----

There was a loud bang on the floor, followed by a flurry of curses. The echoing wooden planks feeling like they made the sound ten times as loud as they truly were. The book itself did no favors to deafening the blow, it’s many pages weighing the tome down even more.

The woman climbed down from the tall ladder, her short heels hitting the floors and clicking in a dulled sound towards the poor fallen object. Overworked hands reached to pluck it up with a gentle motion, brushing it off quickly, as if the dust would somehow ruin the leather that bound it.

A smile spread across the young girl’s lips, and her violet eyes lidded a bit down at the title. There was a youthful joy in her as she drew herself away from the ladder that climbed the many shelves of endless knowledge, and instead brought herself to a well worn table with papers strewn out across its surface.

Scrawled notes in handwriting that looked like a creature’s prints scuttering across the page. A basket to the side with wrapped bread and cheese for nibbling on throughout the work. There was even the treat of a sweet tarte inside, resting at the bottom and carefully saved for the end as a delicious gift to the girls own hard work.

There was a soft sigh, and she pushed back some of her loose black locks into her stiff cloth hat, pulling the scarf more close around her to keep the warmth in her bones. Even if the tall windows brought in the bright daylight, it didn’t disturb the creeping chill that surrounded this library in whole.

She pulled open the book that she saved, letting her hands smooth out the page and carefully lean over it to begin letting her hungry mind quench its thirst in the new words that spilled forth on the pages.

Prisa’s happiness was clear, the smile still on her girlish features as she rested one arm up to lean upon. Despite the discomfort that may be brought on by the wooden stools she was offered, she was happy and content.

How lucky she was.

----

Red wine spilled over into the glass, swirling and washing along the crystalline walls. Rising higher and higher, it drowned out the emptiness and washed up till it was nearly to the brim. Daring to spill over, had it not been for the slender long fingers that held the bottle it had spilled from.

The bottle was set down with a gentle thud, the glass pulled up from it’s silver tray and gently strayed to soft lips. A drink was taken.

Green eyes strayed to a bright window, showing clear skies as far as the eye could see. Brows furrowed at some troubled passing thought.

Those lips now stained with the taste of wine frowned, and a gentle hum rose from the woman’s throat.

Pyrar focused on the reflection tossed back at her. A woman, sitting at ease and comfortable in a plush chair. Red hair like the red wine in her glass, vibrant against her flushed skin; tumbling and ruffled from brushed thoughts through the curling locks. Green eyes looking lost, bleary.

Drunk.

She was drunk.

She told herself that, and even so she didn’t give a care to how it might look or be perceived. She wasn’t going anywhere, that was for sure, and it dulled the senses- dulled the idea of where she was, and what she was doing there.

Dulled her mind off the fact that she was displaced, and away, from where she should be.

‘Home’, she thought. ‘I should be at home. I shouldn’t be here. Not here.’

There was a slow breath that escaped her lips and her eyes averted from the reflection she saw, the emotions that threatened to well up. She bit it down for the time, drowned it in another gulp of wine.

This was not her home, not her timeline, not anything of hers.

She wished it were nothing: a dream from a long night’s rest that she’d eventually awaken from. Even so, it was too real. All too real.

And so she numbed it.

The glass was emptied, the bottle tilted once more, and more wine spilled over to refill the void.

---

Mahogany doors closed behind her, the soft perfumed scent still lingering against her skin like the mist of the oasis falls. A warm touch against her cheek, ghostly traces of fingers that felt like they were still caressing her lovingly.

Her mother's touch had that effect, sitting there with her just as the woman’s words did. While the words had been kind, like sweet honey to the ears, she held more meaning and sternness behind them. An endless amount of wisdom and advice that was woven with just an ounce of careful judgement.

Despite the more harsh nature of her words, the matriarch had nothing but good intentions for her daughter.

‘You cannot always allow yourself to be a child, when you will have one of your own.’

Tali knew that. She really did, but it didn’t change the source of her frustrations. Sure it was childish in the way she presented it, but how else would she go around it.

She remembered that look in her mother’s eyes. A slight glint of disappointment that made her ears flatten, even after she had already left the quarters where her mother resided, and walked the long halls of their home, further, and further away.

Tali understood the weight of that look, the unspoken words that were there behind the clear ones she heard.

She had to take more responsibility, and not just in the sense of taking care of the child she would bear. So long she’d played some part in acting it. She’d been careful to follow along the easy steps, assuring that she’d present herself as the best for her mother, first, and then the clan, second.

She had been proud of that, at least.

But things were different. She did have to do something more, but the question was to be -what- would she have to do? She not only had to show it, but experience it, to get the full brunt of whatever her mother was telling her. After all, simply following orders wasn’t the type of thing a matriarch would do, and if she was to fill such a position, then she needed to think beyond that.

The woman swept into her quarters, closing the first door that lead to one of the two small living rooms. Taking in a deep breath, she swore she could feel the heaviness that still rested on her shoulders from mere thoughts. The weight of a task she hadn’t even thought to start until now.

Stepping along the way, she eventually came to rest in the plush pillows that surrounded a rounded table. Some papers were neatly stacked to the side, all business for her mother, but nothing of her own.

Tali stared at them for a long moment, thinking of all that she did and whatever she could do? It frustrated her, seeing as this all wouldn’t be a problem if only she’d not gotten into such a fit about some simple argument.

No, it wasn’t just that. It had been building, after all, and it was just what should have been expected. Wasn’t it?

The miqo’te leaned back, resting her head on the pillows and looking up to the ceiling and then slowly out of the windows beside her. Moonlight spilled freely through the windows, and what laid beyond was the high valley walls at a distance from their home. Seeing the homes that had been dug into the walls and the large canopies that gracefully moved with the cold evening winds.

For a moment, the young woman thought she couldn’t possibly meet the expectations of them. Someone who throws fits at the slightest thing. Someone who can’t even manage to do more than follow the same steps her mother took before. There was no growth from there, merely a stability that she wasn’t even sure she could maintain if things were to get bad for them all.

The clan deserved better.

Closing those silver eyes, she let out a small huff. Her brows twitched, and a frown was on her lips. She didn’t like that thought at all. Not one single bit. Her ears flicked and she finally murmured, “I have to do something…”

The only answer she received was silence from the room. She was alone there, for better or for worse, at the moment.

Opening her eyes again, she adjusted her head to look further up. Towards the sky and its bright stars she could see beyond the valley walls. The clarity and beauty that she could enjoy right here in her own rooms. It gave her a slight comfort, her tenseness from the meeting with her mother easing just a bit.

She sat there for some amount of time, left alone to her wandering thoughts. But those wandering thoughts brought her to something… an idea while looking to the skies.

Her eyes widened, and she looked almost stunned that she hadn’t thought of something of the sort before. She’d sit up fully, leaning to grab hold of a blank parchment and pull it closer to her. Soon she had found something to write with and began to write hurriedly with a small smile forming along her lips, more, and more.

A week later, she had more papers made with far more precision to the words and their writing. She had sat it in a small, bound, pile, looking quite pleased. She’d prepared herself, dressing in a fitting outfit for a meeting, and making sure she was well and ready for the rather interesting conversation this was surely going to be.

Finally, Tali would reach up, tuning her linkpearl into the proper frequency before she called out crisp and clear to the user on the other end.

“Es’mena. I would like t’ meet with ye, if ye have th’ time.”

- - - Tags - - -

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast @jessipalooza @treyu

#ffxivwrite2019 #Faeravel Kha #Prisa Fontaine #Pyrar Delaisoux #Tali Neldawn #Faeravel #Prisa #Pyrar #Tali #Tal'orei

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