#Tiama Ishiku

[snackerston]

Bargain - Tiama Ishiku

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Tiama had never really been able to afford a proper caravan for her orders before, and if you'd asked her opinion, she would smile politely and remind you it was much less about having fun and far more about being able to service a burgeoning need of customers who would be in flux to a brand new work site, fulfilling a demand the people of the city itself may not be able to sustain or support except through the aid of foreign merchants coming to Ishgard's icy climes!

Quietly, though, she'd never been on a trip like this with friends before, and she was having a great time.

Not that the two on chocobo back were there for fun - nor the one sitting beside her on the carriage bench helping her drive the wagon. Nor the one sitting in the back amongst the boxes as if he were a package to be delivered himself. An adventurer's life was so COMPLICATED and the alliances and allegiances she had made so leisurely had become so sincere and intense!

After a check in at Camp Tranquil with the Wood Wailers who would give directions, a map, and a firm reminder to not tarry in the Shroud longer than necessary to raise the ire of the elementals, the four adventurers who had made up what they called "North Company" had been very intense of much and many things.

Liragren, of fair white hair and a soft complexion hiding a will of wrought iron beneath a silken exterior, had long been Tiama's friend and encouraged the travel but took every opportunity to remind her that this wasn't a pleasure trip, and that the dangers of the route Tiama had chosen could very quickly outweigh the savings of such a roundabout path - and why couldn't they go through Northern Thanalan, by way of Mor Dhona?

Errol, who's features were a mirror perfect match of his sister's - Tiama suspected they were twins, but how does one broach such a topic in polite conversation? Errol's input mirrored Liragren's as well - the more direct route would be safer, perhaps. Moving by an Imperial Castrum was probably not the best idea, even if it were abandoned and driven to its knees by the fabled Warrior of Light, but it was a far more direct path, and one could be expected to arrive at Ishgard's gates in a prompt manner to clear customs and perhaps find and rent a space near markets to operate out of! With the cold, early arrival was most likely to be the best option, to allow for storage and finding warmth and shelter before the prime locations were taken by earlier arrivals!

The miqo'te who sat in the back of the carriage, K'entari, had no true opinion on the matter, but was very insistent he be away from the chocobo - as Liragren rode close to call forth and ask questions of Errol, Tiama swore she could hear him hiss at the bird under his breath, but she'd only known a handful of miqo'te and didn't want to upset anyone by asking if he were indeed hissing. While he was also, ostensibly, a member of this North Company group, he was much less severe about duties, and was a lovely person to work with. Tiama had met him at the Thaumaturge's guild, and he had shown her more than a few lessons and tricks to better control her own aether! She thought fondly of him.

The leader, and oldest of the siblings - though Tiama estimated the redhead was barely a few summers older than she - Kerain was harder to crack and understand. On one hand, she was flippant about danger, reckless in her own well-being, hard pressed to care to prevent her own injury, and also... completely and without any uncertainty dedicated to the safety of Tiama and the other three North Company adventurers.

Before they had set out in Ul'dah, Kerain had pulled her aside and told her very quietly, "I will burn your carriage myself if it means you stay safe. We work for you on this trip, yes, but your safety is the only thing I will concern myself with."

Tiama thought this very prudent and good, she was rather fond of being alive and safe on the greater scope of things.

It was when they had finished crossing Rootslake and had begun making for the small watering hole of Buscarron's Druthers that Tiama had let her mind wander about the scarred woman - she had known Kerain to be a proud fighter, dedicated and thorough and practiced with several weapons, but among her siblings, she was famed not for her strength or her leadership but for her odd luck. Tiama mused and considered what odd luck must look like, and what made it different from regular luck. She wondered what it must look like to have "odd" luck, and would it be possible to be so used to "odd" luck that one would not be fazed by it?

Tiama caught her imagination before it wandered too far as they rode into Buscarron's Druthers, the walls of the encampment holding steady and firm - a safe area, Tiama had heard it called by people who knew the Shroud, that none would dare cause trouble within the area so to keep the peace among the various bandits, thieves, and ne'er-do-wells that lived in the forests alongside the good, fine, upstanding citizens of Gridania. Tiama found their gil spent the same as any other's.

While the North Company adventurers took their rotations - Errol and Liragren stepping aside to fetch pails of water for the birds, Kerain and K'entari checking and double checking the crates in the back, Tiama took a moment to muse before being approached:

Another miqo'te, brown skin and green hair with a yellow shock to it sauntering quietly for the heavy armor she wore over what looked like work clothes: "Oi, miss! Bound for Gridania?" The miqo'te carried herself with an ease, moved with a saunter; even with the spear on her back and hands at her hips, the Miqo'te seemed to sleepily move through the field to approach the carriage, "Don't know what you'll be sellin' up there this time of year, though."

"Oh, no," Tiama offered, "I am simply passing through for Ishgard-"

"Ishgard?!" the Miqo'te's eyes opened wide. Wider. She almost looked awake continuing to interrupt, "What'll you sell to those old stuff shirts?!"

"Oh, this is not to sell to the Ishgard citizens," Tiama laughed, clapping, beaming, "But rumor is Ishgard has begun commissioning laborers and craftworkers to rebuild the city. While I lack the funds to hire laborers to work for me in this, I do have a variety of goods I can sell to laborers who will be arriving, and unsuited for Ishgard's cold: why, it is hardly much different from the cold of the mines back in Ul'dah, so-"

"So, you're gonna, like," the miqo'te waved a hand, searching for words, before gesturing back to Tiama, "Mine the miners, as ye do?"

"I do not think I will be THAT profitable, but I do believe I will be ready to meet a need people may not have thought of! And you, miss? What will you be doing?" Tiama circled about, feeling herself ready to move in for the sale, "You look strong - I bet you have heft a pickaxe a time or two in your day! And so powerful! Do you want for bedclothes, too?"

"Woah woah, okay, slow down there, kid gecko, you ain't even introduced yourself yet!"

"AH BUT YOU ARE CORRECT! My name is Tiama Ishiku, of Ishiku Sundries: Doma's FINEST Mercantile, now here on Eorzea's shores!" Tiama offered a bow, a gentle gesture, with a sweeping arm, before raising up and with a flick of her wrist, offering out a card, "My storefront regularly operates from Ul'dah, but I will be relocating for the foreseeable future. And you? Whom am I speaking with?"

The miqo'te's grin grew wide, nonchalant, "Me? Ehhhh. Name's Senah, Senah Molkoh. I'm something of a laborer sometimes, when the mood strikes. Mostly I travel the trails of the Shroud, find th' little paths and shortcuts to get here and there-"

"Ah! Then I MUST insist you work for me as a guide! We make for Coerthas, and if your route could be much faster than mine, I would love to have you along with us!" Tiama respond, her grin at Senah widening, more enthusiastic.

"Swivin' hell is all this yelling?" a Hyur's voice interrupted, and Kerain cycling about from the back of the carriage, the miqo'te K'entari following behind her. "Thought you HAD a route. Who in the seven hells is this?"

"Oh, why there's only one whom it could - Senah Molkoh, our new guide! I've just hired her now! She will be a bargain for the experience she has in the Shroud!"

Senah's face grew uneasy as she looked into Kerain's eyes, but for a moment - the collected calm pulling itself back together as she looked from the Au Ra to the Hyur, to the Miqo'te with a hand on his caster stave, shaking and nervous, before she cleared her throat, "W-well, if I've got a good price I can guide all y'all safely past the bandits! Probably."

Tiama's pride swelled; she'd known a good bargain when she saw one.

[redmatches]

As an offering to Elise Ebonheart, Tiama Ishiku would bring first aromatic offerings of aromas - sandalwood, chief among them. Of sound, a music box playing a familiar song of a life a world away. Of sights, delicately worked folded paper cranes; textures, a slip of silken fabric over the only offering a deity, a Lady of War could find suitable: a proper, and lovingly tended sword made in the finest ways that come from abroad.

Freedom. And warfare. A strange pairing of domains.

In reverse order, she had reached for the blade, examining it quietly with keen, cold, blue eyes. Calculating, as if she could see what enemies she could cut through with the blade, what armor it could pierce. What it could do with her wrath. Make no mistake, there was a fire in her eyes for every finely crafted blade, and those who dedicated their art to creation of tools was highly appraised to this goddess.

She sheathed the blade, wrapping it delicately before she examined cranes. “You wish me good fortune.” She mused, “In turn I shall wish you eternal freedom.” A smile crept upon her lips. “May you do well to uphold freedom for you and others.”

Her eyes and ears turned towards the music box, as she opted to remain silent to hear the song. The goddess succumbed to old memories. Once upon a time, perhaps. Once upon a time.

And finally, the aromas. More memories. And a scent she approved of. The Lady of War, the Lady of Liberty-- she stood, silver armor glistening against the sky, red cape fluttering against the light wind.

At the feet of Tiama, flames emerged, crossing together to form an X. As quick as they appeared, the flames sputtered and dissipated. In place were two daggers. One with a silvery blade, cold to touch even at the hilt. One with a black blade, hot to touch.

[Tiama obtains two daggers, one aspected to fire, the other to ice. The next day, she would feel energized. Her speed honed, and reflexes keen. She would also strangely find a potential debt of hers, whatever it was, fulfilled miraculously.]

[If Elise were a Goddess, what offerings would you leave?]

[lance-of-fury]

character details; anhe.

ANHE DULAIN.

pronunciation. ( AH-nay | DOO-lane ) nicknames. daughter (by Deitra Kastner, deceased); darling; ma princesse (by Rex Leoncoeur); mom.

height. 5 fulms & 2.5 ilms. age. 22 zodiac. n/a. languages. eorzean, Old Elezen, Mhachi, Amdapori, aspect of Hingan (understands: all, owing to The Echo)

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour. black eye colour. crystal blue skin tone. pale body type. soft; curvy accent. ul’dahni dominant hand. right hand. posture. good, for the most part; slouches when studying and working; can slouch or curl up when withdrawn or alone scars. a wolf’s bite across her right forearm ; a gruesome slash from navel, around her right side, to the small of her back, from a rusted meathook; countless skin-picking scars on the back of her neck; a slash as if she was punched by a dagger on the middle of the back of her neck tattoos. none. most noticeable features. her long, thick hair; her bright, bright eyes; her curvaceous form

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. the Pearl Lane of Ul’dah hometown.  Ul’dah birth weight / height. n/a. manner of birth. n/a. first words. “cold” siblings. none. parents. Senna Dulain & Cairell Ahearne (biological) ; Deitra Kastner (adoptive)  parental involvement. Senna and Cairell: loved dearly by her parents, despite the family having nothing. given as much as she could. their death harmed her deeply. | Deitra Kastner: loved deeply, but harmed equally. pushed past Anhe’s boundaries into discomfort and abuse, in the name of growth. her life, death, and rebirth have caused lingering scars and allowed her to grow in ways she never thought possible.

ADULT LIFE

occupation. Headmistress of Kastner’s Academy for Passionate Individuals ; teacher of magics ; Elementalist ; weaver ; goldsmith  current residence.  an apartment in the Goblet ; Senna Dulain’s home in the Lavender Beds close friends. Fiona Delaine (sister) ; Deitrala de Verglace ; Paradyme Capellago ( @paradymeshift​ ) ; Zihji’li Nhikna ; Rex Lioncoeur ; Rastirah Kacha ( @seacat-ffxiv​ ) ; Tiama Ishiku ( @snackerston​ ) ; Frederike Westheart ; the countless others who make her students, friends, and circles. relationship status. single financial status. does not lack for coin. driver’s license. none. vices. over-indulgence in sweets; burying herself in work; sex.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. almost exclusively attracted to women. romantic orientation. aromantic. preferred emotional role. submissive | dominant | switch | unsure preferred sexual role. submissive  |  dominant  | switch |  sex repulsed turn on’s. physical fitness; quiet confidence; curvaceous forms; strength of character. women, in general. turn off’s. malicious or negative attitudes; anger and hatred, esp. unwarranted; sloppy or disgusting appearances. men, in general. love language. physical contact, and the grace of touch; soft words and loving embraces; giving gifts. relationship tendencies.  anhe has no desire for a relationship, and the potential of her entering one even for social benefits is next to zero. attempting to force her into one is one of the few ways to truly bother her. she takes on a primarily caring and loving role in her friendships and mentorships, leading to many viewing her as motherly (though never as a mother).

MISCELLANEOUS.

hobbies to pass the time.  practicing her magic. paperwork. singing. practicing instruments. training (lightly). cooking and cleaning. tending to others. mental illnesses. suicidal depression; severe anxiety; PTSD physical illnesses. none. left or right brained. right. fears. losing those she holds dear. being truly alone. losing her magic. self confidence level. moderate. vulnerabilities. friends and colleagues.

tagged by: @fatewalker​

[snackerston]

#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #30: Close, or “The Modest Little Life”

Tiama marveled at Manabi’s recovery: she had heard from many medics, conjurers, and any one who had a half cocked idea of how to make use of a bandage that Aethersickness was something that people just got over, and “it is so STRANGE that your sister has not!” and so many variations of it since arriving to Eorzea in the store of a boat far too crowded with Doman refugees to arrive at a dock far too small at a city far too eager to reject their arrival because “We have enough of our own refugees, thank you.”

The recovery had happened so gradually over the airship flight from Eorzea proper, that Tiama had been tending to Manabi, had been preparing food and water and helping her change clothes and then she wasn’t - she was in need of assistance, of aid, and then she was tying her own blindfold over the burn scars and she was standing with minimal strain and she was moving under her own power without using their Father’s katana in its sheath as her walking stick.

She had withered from malnutrition, from disuse, but she slowly became more vital, more energetic, and when they had landed in Kugane to secure passage through the Ruby Sea to Yanxia proper, Manabi had stretched her legs and found herself bounding further ahead of the younger sister, turning back to grin… and then turning further realizing half her face had been hidden by the blindfold.

Passage to Yanxia, from the Ruby Sea, to take the One River up into Doma proper was easily secured - traders, merchants and craftsmen had all returned home: those who hadn’t, were replaced by traders, merchants and craftsmen from Kugane and abroad looking to do well and ingratiate themselves to the people of Doma.

Even the Confederates who had harried them for daring to leave without paying the Ruby Tithe were offering their services, though Manabi saw fit to stare at the pirate until he stopped barking at the two without shame for “THE SAFEST BOAT RIDE YOU’LL NEVER TITHE FOR!”

Upon arrival to their dock - the boatman waiting over a modest skiff, his robes bearing the Doman insignia proudly, conversing with a pair of others about to board - Manabi stopped before the boat, watching intently, before she spoke, “Tiama, you hesitate.”

She considered how to answer, briefly, before settling, deferring to honesty, to obedience: this was home, or near enough, she’d suspected: “I do, yes.”

“Tell me why.”

Manabi commanded, and Tiama obeyed, “Everything we had done in Eorzea, for the past several seasons, we did on my wit and guile. We earned everything we owned, we scraped and we fought and we bartered and- and you were too ill to do it yourself, so I did it the way you would: not as good as you would, I was… I was raised to tend a family. You were always the best of us.”

Tiama paused for a moment, long enough for Manabi to start speaking, before interrupting her, continuing.

“Doma is and always will be my home but what waits for me upon return? Am I to find my betrothed and marry and simply conclude my life’s journeys there? Do I work as your assistant, as we recreate Ishiku Sundries in Doma? What do I lose by leaving Eorzea, that I gain by returning home this day? And yet…”

This time, Manabi waited, patiently, for Tiama to speak, and when it became apparent she would not, as Tiama stared blankly at the skiff docked ahead of them Manabi prod her on, “And yet?”

“There is nothing I want more.”

Silence still, between the two, the boathand quietly tending to his smoking pipe again as Tiama stared, blank, ahead of her.

“Then, I suppose it is time I retake my place as head of Ishiku Sundries: Tiama Ishiku.”

Tiama turned to look up to Manabi, cursing herself for standing at her left, looking up to the blindfolded eye and unable to read her sister’s body language as Manabi shift, crossing her arms before her as she looked forward onto the skiff, unflinching and unmoving.

“Tiama, it is in your hands alone that we have achieved as much as we have: though, what we have is survival, and what we have is our lives, and though we had received those for free, it was under the Kami’s providence that were blessed as we were. Consider this your performance review:”

Tiama nodded, softly: once.

“Upon arrival in Eorzea, when we were at the mercies of others in authority, you’d negotiated a means to act as an agent of labors, of material - of trade: you had enlisted into the Eorzean “Adventurer’s Guild” and secured the benefits such inferred upon you,” Manabi continued speaking.

Tiama nod, again, less certain of herself now.

“And you endeavored to regain what we lost, for… what reasons, exactly? I will not waste time seeking an answer, because only you will know, and I will know the results of: we are here. We are here, we are here,” Manabi’s voice cracked, and a soft sob escaped her, “We are here.”

“We are here,” Tiama echoed.

“I offer my official thanks, Tiama, as head of the Ishiku Sundries group of merchants.”

“Thank you,” Tiama whispered, her voice quivering, shaking: threatening to break, even as she held back a quiet sobbing.

“My second formal act as leader of Ishiku Sundries is to… step down. I will not return to Doma and ask to be given fortune where we had fled. ...I had hoped, instead, to work… as a teacher,” Manabi spoke, soft, looking up towards the sky, “I cannot ask you to give up your passion when I follow another’s, Tiama.”

“Go, Tiama, go and… do not return until you are ready. Doma cannot handle we two seeking our dreams until it is more stable, and I will work to ensure the next generations know every sacrifice to give us what we have here  And you will do… whatever you may, for the future of Ishiku Sundries. Should you accept it.”

Tiama’s eyes welled over, and she stood, stock still, steady - immediate and at full attention; and then, flinging herself down, bowing deeply: “Th-thank you!”

The two women stood, in tears upon the docks together and it was only when Manabi turned to Tiama, tears streaming down her skin and scales, to meet eyes with Tiama, tears streaming down her skin and scales.

“Do not come home until you are ready, Tiama. Do not come home until your journeys are finished, and when you do, I will welcome you, my sister, and we will sit and you will tell me tales of your adventure and of heroism and of trade; and I will tell you the tales of my modest little life.”

They stood, in tears, the sun setting, before they collapsed together in a hug for long and longer still - holding tight and tighter still. And then… they separated.

Manabi boarded the boat, raising a hand to wave to her sister, without looking back. Tiama turning towards Kugane proper, raising a hand to wave to her sister as well: without looking back.

[snackerston]

#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #4: Saving Time

Tiama laid the shipping manifest out on the table - and then the timetable of travel from Vesper Bay, Thanalan to Limsa Lominsa proper. And a third paper, a fourth - schedule hours, a planner detailing down to the most minute of each bell, mumbling as she traces her fingers from one time table to another:

“If I can manage to catch this ship route - and if it stays on time - then I can arrive in port at Limsa Lominsa by sixth bell. And if I keep my merchandise packaged so I can remove things from the boxes easily, then I’ll only be held up in customs for two bells if Kami are kind and I do not wind up behind a produce delivery again…”

Across her schedule book, she traced a finger - barely an empty moment in her day, and less gil in coffer to pay for assistance this week than usual.

“Carriage travel - one passenger and a load totalling no more than two hundred ponze. That will be a quarter bell to load and unload - presuming the carriage is early enough and empty enough I don’t have many others to work around. A bell to travel to Vesper Bay,” she mused softly, “Oh, but for a license to travel by airship… would be nice to know such luxury for once.”

Spinning in her chair to another table, another schedule book open, “While traveling I could practice thaumaturgy - perhaps something like fine skills, control of ice and fire between my hands - I don’t think I could afford another mishap on carriage but if I spent a bell in carriage without something to do, I may go stir crazy…” Another spin, to another set of papers, “The Bismarck is open for dinner service until here, which, if everything comes together lines up with at least two people’s schedules - presuming they’re even IN Limsa Lominsa at the moment, maybe I can make linkpearl calls while on the boat? It promises to be a lengthy trip, otherwise…”

Slowly, Tiama compiled her notes - her itinerary, with nary a free moment from sunrise to sunset, and at the end of the day, the scant few bells Tiama could find rest, she laid the pencil aside with a soft smile, before picking it up and writing briefly into the book, a small poem:

“A moment at rest Earned in a day’s fruitful work

Is sacrificed first”

And so Tiama returned to work: by fading daylight, and then by candle light and in the morning by the rising sun.

[snackerston]

#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #12: Accolade

Silently, softly, Tiama toiled and worked, the day’s efforts at the markets having paid off - her voice hoarse from barking in the Lominsan market stalls, and it was hearing a phrase that had given her reason to pause as she began to pack what was left for the next leg of her journey: to Gridania, by airship.

It was costly - airship travel had become a luxury, but for her trip - for the journey of purchasing things in Lominsa to sell in Gridania, of good brought from Ul’dah to ferry with her into Ala Mhigo. And for the moment, Tiama winced, a good day giving her the gil needed to keep the travel going but thankful that the worst of her speaking was done for the day.

But it was then that she’d heard, familiar accents, distant words: “I’d seen the one stall, Ishiku Sundries? It was a name I’d not seen in some time, were they not Doman?” Tiama’s heart leapt into her throat, and she turned towards the speakers as they moved - moved away, moved towards the Mizzenmast, listened as their conversation continued. “If they had moved into Kugane, perhaps they could have stayed well… a surprise to see their branch in Eorzea, even if it was… significantly less than before.”

No words could come from Tiama’s throat, catching on her hoarse voice, even as she’d watched the people leave, “I wonder if they will find success here? I do not think they were trying to trade on the novelty of Doman textiles in Eorzea…”

A moment, a swelling of pride in Tiama’s heart, even tired as she was, she redoubled her efforts - people noticed her! People remembered her family’s business! A moment, before TIama writes quickly on a notepad on her hip, among listings of purchase/sales orders:

“Water my fields

Encouragement as water

Feeds dedication”

A moment to breathe, and Tiama nods, proud, continuing her duty...

[snackerston]

#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #10: Coward

In the fires of the lighthouse on the distance she sees

A lifetime left in tears and in fear and in haste and in

An uncertain future, she saw a glimmer of hope

With the grim reaper’s blade to her throat

And still she cannot say the words

“Please trust me.”

[snackerston]

#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #13: Results

Halfway in between drifting on a dream and the haze of memory, Tiama could see the figure of her father clearly.

Hiroshi Ishiku was a short man - where many Raen men towered over the general populace, Hiroshi was barrel chested, squat. He’d lumbered rather than strode across the Doman marketplace. It was a different time, Tiama recalled, when Ishiku Sundries was a truly great mercantile, hailing back several generations of the Ishiku family: Hiroshi had the misfortune of inheriting the family business prior to Garlemald’s invasion, Garlemald’s occupation, and did everything he must to ensure that the business remained well and healthy - for his family, for his children.

On this day, in these markets, Tiama was young - terribly young, but old enough to realize the glares many had given the man as they had walked past.

Tiama was young, terribly young, too young to speak with a filter as she asked, “Why do they make such faces at you?”

He smiled, a smile Tiama had never seen before, a smile tinged with sadness on the otherwise expressionless, severe man’s face, “Many will judge the breadth of your works before they understand the depth of your plans.”

Tiama had grown up with this echoing in her mind, a reverb of lesson, repeating, considering. Every Garlean soldier who came to the Ishiku Sundries stalls and home looking for goods, for equipment, giving pittances of gil and demanding higher quality items every time - “Many will judge the breadth of your works before they understand the depth of your plans.”

She’d tried to commit this lesson to memory, to internalize it, to find ways to illustrate the idea for herself more - more frequently, more eagerly. Writing it down, trying to translate it into a more poetic verse, continually asking her several older sisters what it meant, Tiama had become obsessed with the lesson of her Father; of HIroshi Ishiku’s Resolve.

The people of Doma scowled and mocked the Ishiku family for entreating with the Garleans so openly, when others did so with a begrudging smile - they spoke with disdain, they plot their honeyed plans and dreamed for a better day even as the merchants of Doma were called to Lord Kaien’s presence to speak of profits and losses and their gifts to the Doman people, as the Garleans dictate what should be Doman culture.

It was shortly after such a meeting that the Doman uprising began - and the Doman uprising ended.

Fleeing through the city, Tiama had seen this in her nightmares every night since leaving Kugane’s port - she had seen the scene a thousand times, in every moment she closed her eyes and every moment she had laid her head to sleep, and every moment she could not.

Hiroshi Ishiku had shepherded his daughters through the city towards where the One River opened to the sea, where Castrum Fluminis stood imposing over the coast but had thus far ignored the boats passing to the Ruby Sea: and upon encountering merchants and farmhands armed with swords and farm tools cornered by Garlean troops, Hiroshi Ishiku drew his sword bid his remaining daughters to flee - where there had been seven, there were four now, and his face, so severe, had cracked, had become more mournful than everything, as he spoke, to the daughters of the craft: “None truly know the results of our labors until we have finished.”

Hiroshi Ishiku rushed into the fray as Magitek fire encompassed Garlean and Doman alike.

A world away, in the Mizzenmast Inn, Tiama Ishiku awoke from her nightmare, results the same ever: screaming first, and then a mournful stillness in the dark.

[snackerston]

#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #1: Submerged

The Ul’dah markets were never anything like she remembered in Doma - where privilege and wealth had kept her at a point in the markets, a respectable distance even when among the crowd. There was no such distance in Ul’dah, there was no such space a lifetime later, even if it were only a handful of seasons since arriving in Eorzea.

Tiama Ishiku, on her worst days, had felt as if she were drowning in the mass of people milling about the markets, making th eir way from stall to stall, as if her criers - her barking to declare the sales fell on deaf ears some days, and on others drew more glares of annoyance rather than interested parties looking to shop and be sold to.

It had felt too much - much too much, on some days. That every cry she made, every call she offered disappeared into an unfeeling crowd, drowning in the sounds of their days and making no impact - making little headway, making less wave: pulled beneath the mass of life and in the waters of the city, in the only stream she knew, that she was drowning.

Moments like these, in a crowd, Tiama had never felt as alone as this.

“This wasn’t supposed to be my life,” she felt, words in her head in her own voice giving doubt purchase in Tiama’s heart.

And it wasn’t, the words were technically correct.

Tiama was never supposed to be the merchant, was never supposed to fight and cut and scrape and claw for every little piece of market share - for every insignificant sale and its miniscule reward, for every coin to count as much individually as they do together. This was MANABI’s duty, this was her eldest sister’s inheritance, duty, birthright! This was a lake Tiama had not been taught to swim, this was a weight tied about her ankle and a hand on her head to hold her beneath the current as her thrashing does little to disturb the passing tides above.

It is in this moment where she should be at her weakest, at her most desperate she pauses - and she feels her spirit come to balance, and whispers a tiny thank you to her friends, to her family she yet has - she whispers a little prayer to the kami, and she steadies herself to crash through the surface, breathing in deep, standing tall as her four fulm, six ilm body will let her as she gathers her strength, and with a mighty yawp, she bellows: “HAND CRAFTED, GLORIOUS DOMAN WARES! AVAILABLE TO YOU, NOW, IN ONE CONVENIENT LOCATIONS IN UL’DAH’S SAPPHIRE AVENUE! ISHIKU SUNDRIES, DOMA’S FINEST MERCANTILE!”

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#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #2: Silenced

Tiama had come to know, to understand that she was a naturally chatty person: There was never a silence the Au Ra couldn’t fill with words and babbling, no moment of awkward uncertainty she couldn’t make more so by her attempts to diffuse the situation, by her strain to find the right words to soothe nerves, to mend wounds, to give peace to the disturbed.

Which is, why, Tiama gathered, it was the moment she was struck dumb that meant the most.

The first she could remember was when she was young - her eldest sister’s marriage day, the traditions and the colors and the dancing - very especially the dancing, and the celebration and the food and the cheer and this, this Tiama wanted for herself too because if this was the kind of happiness marriage made for her sister - for every one in her family! - then Tiama wanted it too.

She had asked when SHE could get married, and it was then her Mother laughed softly, and answered: “When you are old enough, there will be a partner for you, chosen by your Father.”

Awe struck Tiama in a way she had never known that day.

It was never the same reason she had been struck mute though - it was things, it was moments on the wind, gestures in the breeze:

The home of her few cycles, engulfed in flames as the whirr of Magitek in the distance grew ever more near, the girl and her family fleeing Doma for their lives.

Her first friend in Eorzea, a miqo’te who’s punches split rock as easily as if they were cleaved by a sword - showing off, yes, but showing off what a good thaumaturge could look like when she got a bit of practice beneath her goofy floppy hat.

Meeting the lady with the white hair in the Limsa Lominsa customs inspection - all of the ways she moved through the clothing Tiama had brought to the port city to sell, how she held up each piece to herself to inspect, looking back at Tiama with an amazed look in her eyes, finally asking, “...do you take commissions? Maybe we can meet at the Bismarck later, share tea and talk about clothes.”

Moments flowing and twisting, and speeding up - more, more frequently, more abruptly, Tiama left standing in awe and amazement - of friends who conduct themselves with grace, who wield immense strength as easily as one would a paper fan, and its at this very moment…

She’s struck dumb, by this white haired dork, sweat soaked and dirty from digging in the plant beds in Ul’dah.

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#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #9: Dense

Frustrating, to take everything at face value without any means of truly knowing the hidden meaning behind words.

In Doma, at least, she had known the saying “words are as air” - and in Eorzea, people had so much, it was almost amazing they did not float away for being so full of such!

Not that she’d say as much: she was careless and often clueless, but she had SOME self-awareness.

But, she mused, it was much nicer when she didn’t need to parse through uncertainty, arriving on the dot at the earliest bell she needed, only to have to wait another half bell for things to truly begin in the Lominsan markets…

“Seven-ish,” she scoffed, “Just say eight if you’re going to be this late…”

Eorzean language was hard, and she tried to understand.

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#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #8: Crag

“Is this truly a barrier to progress, or do you need work HARDER?”

Tiama asked herself the question as she gazed upon the recent set back - the market stall she had signed to work in Limsa Lominsa’s Hawker’s Alley had been rented out beneath her, “A clerical error, really, none to blame, this simply HAPPENS from time to time,” the master of the markets had said, leaving Tiama with crates of clothing and no tables to display across, no stall to set up on, no protections of the market’s walls and roof from the inclement weather roiling in on the distance.

The Au Ra scanned the distance, mumbling and whispering to herself about wind speed, the roll of the tides, the way the smell of rain carried from even this far away. The Au Ra turned to the markets, saw the crowds packing into the enclosed halls, saw the groups milling outside thinning - either leaving the markets ahead of the weather, or joining all others inside of the markets.

Were that this were Ul’dah, and she could simply bribe her way in, but these were Lominsan merchants, and she’d known enough to know that one could not expect any amount of coin to turn a master of the markets against a countryman.

“Very well, then,” Tiama gathered the crates and shoved the dolly beneath them, carefully tipping the boxes back so as to move them all effectively, “Tomorrow, we will definitely be here earlier than anyone, and NO ONE can deny me my spaces then!”

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Character Music Prompt

Rules: Share four songs / pieces of music that best fit your character.

“Nanking Road,” by the Shanghai Restoration Project

“Untitled Scenes,” by Fox Capture Plan

“Kodo,” by the Yoshida Brothers

“C.R.E.A.M.,” by the Wu-Tang Clan

Tagged by @likeadistantstar

Tagging @lance-of-fury @briyuatradingconcern @gyrabanian @redmatches

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Soul Color

Seen as the most popular favorite color, and for a good reason, the blue soulcolor is admired by many, even if they aren’t conscious of it. Friendly, loyal, and always there when you need them, the blue soulcolor is a people pleaser with a heart of gold.

People with this soul color are charismatic in a small way, choosing to speak as much as they listen, and take a genuine interest in people. They look past beauty and see the hidden soul under the skin. Loyal to a fault, they often downplay other’s negative traits as “quirks” and choose to see the best in everyone. They often miss social cues and overstay their welcome without meaning to.

While they might not seem the type to some, the blue soulcolor is likely to fall into fits of depression and self loathing. This is because they have high expectations and hold themselves to strong moral conduct, and failing that moral conduct means failing other people. Even if it’s not their fault, they will choose to take the blame.

When gathering a group of friends, this color likes stability and harmony. They hold onto friendships from their childhood, even if their interests shift, and have a hard time letting people go. Changes in relationships scare them. They will be the first friend to show up at your house when you need them, whether they live a short distance or not.

Tagged by @redmatches

Tagging @gyrabanian @lance-of-fury @briyuatradingconcern

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What Shape Does Your Pain Take?

A picture.

A single image reminding you of someone or something you've lost, something you don't want to live without. You can't seem to move on, to accept life has changed, to live again. You're trapped in the picture, in the past. 

Maybe this was a lost family member or friend, maybe this was a sickness that isn't going away, maybe this was sinking into depression. But you can't help but remember how life was before, how life after will never be the same, and can't help but feel that nothing in the future will be able to fill the hole the past left.

Nothing lasts forever... Right?

Tagged by: @likeadistantstar

Tagging: @lance-of-fury @briyuatradingconcern @gyrabanian @thungerstorm and folks who haven’t been tagged but want an excuse to do this anyway!

Aforementioned test can be taken here

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#FFXIVWrite2018 Prompt #18: Marked

Crates offloaded from the airship in Gridania’s airship dockets, offloaded by an Elezen who had to crane down to speak to Tiama, before giving up and kneeling to keep eye level with her.

“How do you know which crates are yours? I’m not offloading a single box more than need be because you planned a route poorly.”

Tiama’s face rankled, she had known of Gridania’s hostility to outsiders but every time she experienced it, it was as if it were the first time all over again.

“There is a symbol post upon the crates - of which there are only three, and you’d taken the most heavy of them, so you need not strain further for my benefit,” she’d respond in kind, though she winced for the severity she had leveled back upon him.

She exhaled, inhaled again, gesturing to the crate, the symbol upon it - the characters that had become the symbol representing “Doma” in Eorzea, and a few other characters in Yanxian alphabet, before Eorzean letters printed beneath it, “Ishiku Sundries.”

“Please to be gentle with them. They are textiles, but I have standards.”

The Elezen snuffed, scoffed as he looked away, and continued to fetch the boxes, as Tiama considered too late that she was undoubtedly on her own to take the boxes up the stairwell now.