#etro enjoys being recognized very much

[seventhastral]

"Well-met, Goddess of Death. Have you come to bring me home?"

@ladylunafreyaoftenebrae

There are very few ways to encounter Etro, especially from a mortal’s perspective. Lunafreya had died. Etro had been waiting for this moment. 

Despite having been banished and erased from history, Luna recognized Etro. No doubt it was due to the situation and her abilities as the Oracle, but the goddess reveled as she was finally recognized by someone. 

“Perhaps,” She smiled down at Bahamut’s Oracle, now disposed as he had no more use for her. None of the other gods protected Luna, either. “That’s up to you. You could follow your fate and join the past Oracles in the Kingdom of the Dead. Or we can forge a covenant and you can return to saving the world.” 

Between Insomnia and Altissia, all of the conditions had been met for it. 

[airyravenmaid]

Lightning Never Strikes Twice

Well, I fuckin’ did it. After much convincing from a certain Lightis server I joined like last month, I finally decided to post this and the other thing I wrote. However, to clear up any confusion, I must let you all know that though NoctLight obviously happens in my Versus XV AU, dem nerds were in no way love at first sight (which doesn’t even exist anyways lol). In fact, things didn’t start picking up until like super late Chapter 5, then went from there (for better and worse; this is centered around XV’s storyline after all XD), but this takes place during the beginning of Chapter 3 where Light first joins the team, so blah.

But, okay, since that’s finally out of the way, here’s where it all began for this Wonderland of a little sub-universe I created from two FF games I so happen to enjoy combined together. I can only hope you guys like this piece too, and I can very highly consider publishing the other thing I wrote. Happy reading; have lots of fun doing so! 💘

“A prince? You’re asking me to help escort… a prince.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘escort’. What I’m asking you to do is more to accompany him and his retinue until they reach Altissia.”

“Why me of all people? And if they’ve been gone for a while, don’t you think they’re fine on their own?”

“Believe me, I know they are. But after… recent events here in Insomnia, there’s no such thing as being too careful.” Out came a peach colored folder full of photos and official documents, all on her and basic history she was sure a certain ‘new world creation phenomenon’ had preserved and written in for public records even in its neighboring dimension. No other explanation served, so she continued to listen intently with reluctance swallowed. “Says here you’ve had quite a bit of military history as the sergeant of something called the ‘Guardian Corps’?”

“Correct. Since my teenage years.”

“And your superior officer was a man named Amodar?”

“Lieutenant Amodar. That’s right.”

“I see. Keep in mind, I wouldn’t hire just any old nobody off the streets to do the job. Looking it over very carefully a few times, someone with your experience looks to be the right fit. Question is, can you actually do it?”

“Doesn’t matter if someone can or can’t. Some things in life you just do.”

Taking that as a firm agreement, the man known infamously as “The Immortal” closed the folder of the former soldier’s documents and officially sealed her new mission. With everything said that needed to be, directions to the next train stopping near her destination in Duscae, and a formal salute, she was off carrying the needed profiles of the four men she was to meet. He himself at the time needed to leave for a checkpoint in a place known as “Hammerhead”, so when her part of the deal was to come, she’d be ready as she ever would for it.

Or so Lightning so wanted to believe. Truth of the matter was, this new mission she sorely hoped would be her absolute final one was the dead last thing on her mind. From the whole Purge travesty with the long-abolished Sanctum that inadvertently turned her into a “dreaded” l’Cie to waking up from a crystal slumber after five whole centuries only to have thirteen days total to save her loved ones and others from impending doom, to say she was sick and tired of fighting for her life was an unfunny understatement.

But, the forces of fate she lived to fight were, as usual, on the opposing side. Because there she found herself; slumped against the window of her train seat wearing the outfit she’d long dubbed the “Heartstealer” from her first times wearing it, even further away from her new home with the loved ones she once again had to leave behind for the time being. Promises made to come back after her “short trip” she vowed to keep at all costs. And no spoiled little prince or his merry band of bodyguards was going to get in the way of her own decisions.

“Next stop, Alstor!” the conductor announced, the train pulling up at the closest station to where Lightning was asked it go. It’d still be a walk away from the actual spot, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t manage.

‘Where did Cor tell me to go again?’ Lightning wondered in her thoughts, looking at the specific directions given. ‘The “Coernix Station”? Doesn’t sound like much of a waiting area.’

Looking around her while figuring out which way to go after what, Lightning seemed to truly take in how alien the place felt to her. It wasn’t at all like anything she’d experienced years ago back on Cocoon, or even the short time she spent journeying in Nova Chrysalia. No, the Duscae region itself had more of a… retro, much simpler feeling to it. But, whatever it looked like, she had more important things to do than sightsee a place she never intended on seeing again for the rest of her life after she was done.

“Still seems like quite a walk,” Lightning commented, glancing up at the frontmost direction to see no leads on the station. “Best take a shortcut so nobody shows up to a missing recruit. What’s…? ‘Alstor Slough’, huh? I’ll just cut through that.”

Rolling up her navigating directions, Lightning took a turn that led her right along a path going through a grassy area full of pinkish wooden plants growing out from the bristled plains. So long as she stayed on that one path and went the right way, nothing could go wrong for the armed former soldier. Staying on guard was second nature to her, so any mysterious creatures lurking around would have to deal with her first and foremost.

And as if taking heed of a secret cue, the first unlucky volunteers caught sight of her and stepped forward. Well, Lightning wouldn’t say so much stepped as she would a group of pale, sickly-looking mutant wolf-like creatures with teeth sharper than her own blade charging her way.

“Your funeral, not mine,” Lightning stated, unsheathing Blazefire Saber from the case strapped to her body. In the blink of an eye, the gunblade unfolded itself into its sword form, giving its owner the okay to run at the first of the strange creatures to cut right through it.

Lightning didn’t have any sort of clue what she was fighting, but she cared just as little at the same time. The wolf-like mutants in spite of their ferocious appearances didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight either, considering how easily the woman was cutting through them like a hot knife against cold butter. One tried so foolishly to take her down from behind, only to be silenced by Lightning whipping around and firing a strategic bullet out of her weapon’s giant pistol mode before it unfolded back into a blade to effortlessly take down its brethren.

With one remaining in sight, the beast lunged to try and take a fatal bite of her. Instead of any sort of flesh or muscle, however, it stopped rigged in its tracks when it received a unpleasant mouthful of sword cutting right through the back of its head. Lightning ripped her weapon from the creature, giving it one more cautious slash to ensure it’d truly died. Now surrounded by lifeless carcasses of the pack, Lightning folded Blazefire Saber back into a gun and resheathed it, walking along her way as if uninterrupted.

“Not much of a fight,” she commented, brushing herself free of dust or dirt. “Here’s to hoping the other creatures here are smarter than them.”

Throughout the rest of her trek, Lightning only somewhat got her wish. As she’d consciously expected, more of the same beast tried to make a meal of her, but she valiantly cut her path open again going through each one. By her arrival even closer to her goal than before, Lightning was looking rather scuffed up. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as fights she’d been more used to, but there was still hoping the Coernix Station had some refreshments to give her more of a boost.

‘Here we are,’ Lightning thought, walking uphill and crossing over to the actual rest area across the road. Her stomach growled a few more steps in, the woman knowing better than to ignore hunger and risk collapsing in the most unorthodox way possible. “Let’s see what’s at that ‘Crow’s Nest’ place.”

“Welcome, Miss!” a man she assumed to be the diner’s cook greeted her once she sat down at the bar. “What can I get for ya today?”

Lightning looked up at the menu and its three most prominent choices being promoted. Fries and salmon anybody with a brain could recognize, but the beverage and names of all the choices were absolutely alien to her. “Are you… ‘Kenny’?”

“Who, me? No! The food here’s just named after our mascot, Kenny Crow! I’m sure you’ve heard of him, haven’t you?”

“Kenny who?”

“Oh. A foreigner, are ya? That’s okay, everyone has their first time to the Crow’s Nest at one point! What would you like?”

“A plate of ‘Kenny’s fries’ will do. And a bottle of… Jetty’s? Do you have a mascot named Jetty too?”

“Nah, that’s just the name of Kenny Crow’s trademark mineral water! It’s good, you wanna try some?”

“Sure. A bottle of that too’s good.”

“Comin’ right up!”

As good as the salmon looked, Lightning only had so much Gil on her to spend at the moment, so spending 1,400 of it on a plate of cooked fish wasn’t a smart option. Instead, she paid the 200 Gil owed for her fries and water and waited patiently until both showed up. Since she was able to enjoy the meal, now all that remained for Lightning was for the “royal retinue” to show up and pick her up for the mission. Joy, she thought without a hint of it in her head. Travelling with strangers she didn’t know or care about in an unfamiliar world. Etro knows what could await her then.

The fries digesting in her gut replenished plenty of energy lost fighting monsters in the infested plains, and the quarter-consumed Jetty’s water bottle helped a plenty. While checking out the “Shop & Café” next door to see if she needed anything from it, Lightning saw an unfamiliar, sleek fancy black car parked in front of where others like it would sit to refill its tank. She would have thought nothing of it, were it not for the four young gentlemen in black clothing close to her (physical; how old she really was as a result of her awakening from stasis was something between only her and her loved ones back home) age range inadvertently proving themselves as the owners of said vehicle.

From the shop window, Lightning picked up on all four faces, opening the documenting profiles she was given on one of the small white tables in the shop. Looking between the clear headshots and the men outside, she had a match. Before being given the chance to pack the documents up, she heard a voice belonging to one of them speak up and get closer to her proximity.

“—Here we are! Finally meeting ex-sergeant Lightning Farron!” the rather perky voice chirped, its source a scrawny spiky-haired, blue-eyed blond with youthful freckles and a weird section of flannel hanging out from under his top. “Man, I’d bet he’s this tall, burly, really hairy fella— probably something like Gladio, but even more gruff than that!” He took a look into the shop she was in, catching the sight of her but not yet fully processing reality. “Yeah, and he’s gotta be really strong with his petite figure; soft, luscious lips pink like the rose, breathtakingly alluring blue eyes, wavy pink hair, and—!” The wide-eyed look on his face quickly informed Lightning the realization struck him quicker than her moniker. “—Is actually an extremely beautiful woman?!”

“Run that by me again?” Lightning questioned, folding her arms and cocking her head to the side.

“Err, uhhh… I—”

Another man stepped in before the first could snap fully out of his stupor, this one taller and more mature looking with slicked up auburn hair and viridescent eyes able to properly see through oval-shaped glasses. He saw her too, only holding up information given to him prior to see if it was right. “‘Lightning Farron’?”

“Who wants to know?” Lightning asked, ever-rigid towards the man with the befittingly fancy accent.

“Ignis S. Scientia, advisor to the Prince of Lucis. I trust you’ve been informed of us by a one Cor Leonis?”

Okay, at least she could be sure they were definitely the right people, now by physical appearance and name in the profiles. “Oh. So, you have to be the ‘royal retinue’ I’ve been put on the escort mission with. In that case, yes.” Lightning gave Ignis a formal salute of honor to show courtesy, not minding his stoic expression not moving an inch from its default form. She ignored the blond examining her at several angles, dismissive of whatever was going on in his head. “Former Sergeant Lightning Farron, at your service, Ignis Scientia. A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Farron.” Ignis on the other hand gave her a formal half-bow, already on her civil side with his polite first impression.

“Uhhh… huh,” the blond one stuttered, unable to fully digest Lightning’s physical form as if she were some ethereal goddess walking among the mortal realm.

“...Can I help you?” Lightning half-hissed, already running low on patience for that one’s brainless nonsense.

“Don’t mind Prompto, he gets easily befuddled meeting new young women,” Ignis warned her. “Come with me. You might as well make yourself more acquainted with the other two while you’re at it.”

Following Ignis with the one named Prompto not too far behind, Lightning saw only one of the missing two men she had yet to meet. This one she figured to be the tallest, the incredibly muscular build pairing well with the gruff long dark chestnut mullet hairstyle and noticeable scar running down one of his rust-colored eyes. Well put together as he was, Lightning remained unaffected by physical appearance alone, though her hands now rested on her hips with the profiles in her grasp rather than be folded in her stubborn arms.

“And who’s this here, Iggy? Don’t think I’ve ever seen this one around these parts before,” the tall and muscular one mentioned, his tone giving off hints of a flirty vibe.

“Our newest recruit for the journey’s course,” Ignis answered.

“Really? You’re Sergeant Farron, huh?” Now his eyes were on her, almost as carefully as Prompto’s were but a lot less clumsy.

“That’s me.” Lightning skimmed through the files until she found a match on the burly one’s features. “‘Gladiolus Amicitia’, I assume?”

“King’s Shield in the flesh. But, calling me just ‘Gladio’ is perfectly fine. Gotta say, wasn’t expecting such a pretty face like yours to go with a name like ‘Lightning’.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Nah. Cor recruited you for a reason, so you’ve gotta have lots of fighting spirit in ya. Otherwise, the Marshal wouldn’t have even considered you.”

“Experience, I’ve got. ‘Fighting spirit’, on the other hand, is what I’m not allowed to get rid of nowadays.” Lightning unveiled Blazefire Saber, flicking her wrist forward to unfold it into its sword form to both the awe of Gladio and Prompto, and the intrigue of Ignis. “So long as I’ve got this by my side, I’m stuck in the battlefield once again.”

“Some sword you got there, Sarge. A little small if you ask me, though.”

“And why’s it have a trigger?” Prompto wondered, running a finger over the rim until Lightning pulled her gunblade away from his reach. “Just for decor?”

“No, that’s real. When I don’t wanna use the blade, I just shoot my targets.”

Prompto let out a loud gasp of excitement at the revelation, starry eyes now glued to Blazefire Saber. “You use guns too?! Ooh, ooh! Show us a demonstration?! Pleeeease?”

“Rather not. Wouldn’t wanna cause a scene at such a little rest stop.” She folded it back and put it away while Prompto’s face fell disappointed. “It’ll be worth the wait once we get moving.”

“That is, as soon as His Highness comes back. He should be just about finishing up his talk with the Crow’s Nest owner momentarily,” Ignis guessed. “Seems a friend of ours required our assistance, and Noct’s asking for directions on where to find the missing dog tags.”

“As in the one for pets, or the one for soldiers?”

“The second one,” Gladio answered. “I’m sure you’ve had some when you were in the line of duty where you’re from, right?”

Before Lightning could answer the question, footsteps approached the group. Turning her head, she’d found the last of the retinue; the Lucian Prince himself. His photo seemed to add up with his appearance; messily spiked hair blacker than the night sky, eyes a shade of navy blue as modest as his current expression. For royalty, Lightning figured, he certainly didn’t dress the part. How he acted, however, was beyond her knowledge and concern for the time being.

“Hi there,” he greeted her politely. “Guys, who’s this?”

“This, Noctis, would be the team’s latest addition that Cor informed us of,” Ignis told him, the prince’s face shifting to a noticeable disappointment at the news. “I’d like for you to meet former Sergeant Lightning Farron.”

“Oh. So this is who’s joining the team the rest of the way? That’s… great.” You’d have to be deaf to not hear the blatant malcontent in Noctis’ tone, especially so when he looked at Lightning.

“I know, right?!” Prompto cheered, he himself elated at the woman’s presence in stark contrast to his standoffish best friend. “Dude! Her weapon? It’s a gun and a sword all in one! It’s like the 2-in-1 of weapons! You should see it!”

Noctis didn’t seem to entirely believe such a silly claim, merely accepting it as the other boy’s typical excitement at whatever. “Thanks, Prompto, but I’ll have to pass. Alright, and you’re ‘Sergeant Farron’, then?”

“The one and only.” Lightning pulled out His Highness’ profile, looking over his name with a raised pink brow. “‘Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV’. Who has their home as their middle name? You don’t see my name being ‘Lightning Bodhum Farron’ or anything like that.” Then again, Fang and Vanille were two exceptions to that, but even that was based more on Oerban culture than nobility.

“You didn’t exactly see me asking for your help either, and yet here we are.”

“Wow, Princess, mind telling me what just crawled up your ass and died?” Gladio scolded, as taken aback as the other two by Noctis’ snarky comment towards the equivalent of a new guest.

“Recently? A lot of things including my home town,” Noctis bit back. “Look, it’s nothing personal towards someone I don’t even know, but you heard Cor; he didn’t have a reason to worry about us anymore.”

“Him not being worried does not equate to rejecting another pair of hands to ease what lies ahead for us,” Ignis reminded him. “Someone with Lightning’s militant combat experience wouldn’t be anything except highly beneficial.”

“Yeah, so quit acting like a rude little punk in front of the new girl and suck it up,” Gladio growled. “‘Cause from here on out, you’re stuck with her.”

“It’s not my problem on whether or not he wants my help,” Lightning clarified to the elder two of the group, her frigid teal eyes making full contact with Noctis’ cooled midnight ones. “Frankly, Your Highness, you’re not the only one who wishes I wasn’t here right now. But, I still have a mission to complete. So, here’s the deal: we go to Altissia and back to settle what you need to, then after, we part ways forever as if you never even met me. Sound fair?”

“Fine by me,” Noctis agreed, shrugging indifferently.

“It’s fine by me too. Now, quit complaining.”

“Great start,” Gladio sighed sarcastically, not looking forward to any possible future discord between one of his best friends and the ex-soldier.

Lightning waved off Noctis getting inside the car, turning her attention to Prompto still inspecting her like she was some sort of murder suspect. “Okay, what’s with you? If you’re not gonna actually ask me something, then take a picture. It’ll last longer.” FLASH! “...Were you seriously waiting for me to say that just to do it for real?”

“Not exactly, but why pass up such a nice photo op anyways?” Prompto wondered, looking at the new photo of the scowling, but otherwise elegant-looking Lightning taken on his camera. “Wow! You are really photogenic! Of course, I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be a girl in the first place, but either way, it’s a good kind of surprise.”

“You didn’t know I was a girl? How?”

“Well, when I heard we’re joining up with someone named ‘Lightning’, I kinda figured you were… a guy? You don’t hear about a lot of girls called that, anyways.” Prompto had his hands up, Lightning’s scowl giving him the impression she was going to react poorly if he didn’t think his words through well enough. “It’s not a bad thing! Boy or girl, we’re really happy to have you aboard!”

“Most of us, anyways,” Ignis corrected, glancing over at Noctis’ apathetic expression as the prince could only be thinking of how much he didn’t want the extra help from anybody.

“Tomato, tomahto, Igster! Give Noct a little time and he might consider lightning up.”

“Prompto, we haven’t even gotten back on the road yet,” Gladio warned with disdain. “Don’t make Lightning already regret having to travel with us.”

‘Wouldn’t say he’s made me do something that’s already there,’ Lightning scoffed internally, flipping to the last profile. “‘Prompto Argentum’, huh?”

“You got it! My name can mean ‘quicksilver’ if you put it together. So, you could say I’m about as fast as ‘lightning’ myself. Coincidence?”

“More like a cruel irony.” Lightning rolled her eyes openly at Prompto’s flirty comment, but the boy didn’t let up all that much.

“Oooh, so witteh. I can tell you’re gonna do just fine with us!”

The honk of the Regalia’s horn courtesy of Ignis in the driver’s seat cut their conversation even shorter, Prompto hopping into the middle seat next to Gladio in the back. Lightning seemed lost in thought while ensuring everything was with her and accounted for. Once she left that station with the other four, Etro knew how long it’d be until she was finally free to go and be back alongside her actual loved ones she’d worked so hard to have a happy ending with after 500 years worth of utter Hell. That in itself would have to wait; for now, there was one last important task she had to put up with and earn herself a peaceful start over for real.

“Come on, new girl! We don’t wanna hit traffic!” Prompto called out to her, waving his hand high to get her attention.

“Be right there,” Lightning sighed, getting into the leftmost backseat behind the driver’s one and buckling in next to Prompto. “So, what’s our first order of business?”

“We’re meeting up with my sister, Iris, in Lestallum,” Gladio said. “She thankfully made it out okay from the attack on Insomnia.”

“But, she didn’t say to come right away! Just when we’re able to get there,” Prompto stated as the Regalia finally drove away from the Alstor Coernix Station and onto the road. “And word on the street is there’s a Chocobo Ranch not too far away from here! Wouldn’t hurt to check that out, would it?”

“There’s no time for that. Lestallum first, chocobos later,” Gladio retorted, far too concerned about his younger sister to agree to partake in a casual visit just yet.

“Maybe we’ll be able to do both,” Noctis suggested. “But whatever’s the most possible right now is what’s first.”

“Never thought visiting chocobos would be one of the choices,” Lightning commented, already dreading where things possibly might go if they stop at the ranch despite she herself liking the creatures just fine.

“There’s never a wrong time to ride some chocobos. Can’t really blame Prompto for wanting to see the ranch; the big things are pretty cute!” That had to have been the first time Lightning heard Noctis’ voice go up an octave from excitement in her presence, something that surely wouldn’t last next time he was to have an actual conversation with her. “I kinda hope we do stop there first just to see and maybe ride a few.”

‘Nice to see our priorities are where they should be,’ Lightning sarcastically commented in her mind, leaning with her elbow propped on the roofless side window as the road wind blew parts of her roseate hair backwards. “Day one…”

Staring out from the car at her surroundings, Lightning recognized the Alstor Slough, having been the only area she’d actually been in on the current route. Aside from that, no place she’d been in long enough compared to the world she was in now. It went without saying that Lightning was definitely not in Nova Chrysalia (or the long-felled Cocoon, but at least her birthplace didn’t have anything comparable to Eos like her closest bet with the former world’s Gothic city of Luxerion) anymore.

If it was going to be a while before she contacted the others at home outside of digital communication, then it was about time the ex-Guardian Corps soldier made do until her awaited mission completion arrived to finally let her rest. In no way did she approve of it in the first place, but as she was used to: mandatory duty was mandatory duty, regardless of her exact feelings on the matter.

[silastheanon]

Okay so I could’ve sworn I posted this before but apparently not because Tumblr can’t find it but Tumblrs also broken so if this is a repost I’m so sorry.

Under the cut is the prologue of a story about Kaeda, set in the mythical world of Eossilyn. I hope you enjoy!

@professionallydeadinside also bestie this is for you too <3 just to make sure you see it

The night sky was supposed to be a calm, deep, beautiful black, littered with glittering silver, the moon casting its light onto the world below it. This wasn’t that. This night sky was lit with flames, smoke coated the calm, deep, beautiful black that should’ve been, screams and shouts and sobs were all that any could hear, if they could hear at all.

Kaeda could. She could and did hear it. Soldiers and guards surrounded her, their shields and weapons ready to defend her. Their faces showed they felt the same way, prepared to lay down their own lives for her. Later, Kaeda would look back and think, bitterly, how unfortunately well prepared they were.

She had been given a cloak of dragon skin, and one of her Papa’s small daggers, and a bag of food from her Atta. They looked troubled, which Kaeda would look back on and think, bitterly, again, how naive she had been. The cloak of dragon skin was far too large for her, meant for either an adult Elf or Cambion, which she was neither. She was an Elf, yes, but a mere child. Only six years old, at this time.

Kaeda had recognized the guards around her, knew their names, their voices, their faces. She knew they would keep her safe, she believed in that, and placed all of her hope and faith in them. She also had faith her Papa and Atta would protect their home.

She wasn’t supposed to hear, never was, but she listened anyway. She knew the country of Astros was attacking her home, the sister country Etros. She knew they were the ones responsible for her peaceful night with Papa and Atta, one of the few she could get, rulers were very busy, after all, being ruined with bloodshed and screams and fear.

It was obvious in the screams and shouts that shook Kaeda to her core, but it was also subtle. She could taste it, along with ash and metal. She could smell it, mixed in with blood and piss. She could almost see it, through the smoke and darkness.

Kaeda was herded out of the mountain her people called home, taken down a dark and overgrown path that was lit only by what rays the moon could spare them and their dim lanterns and torches. One of the guards held her hand, while another steered a wagon that would take them to Ebrea.

That, she was allowed to know. Kind of.

Her Papa had told her, so at least she could pin it on him if she wasn’t meant to know. Her Papa often bent or broke the rules for her, and he got away with it, too. It was never anything horrible, just small things, and people were either too charmed or endeared to truly mind, and if they weren’t, her Atta certainly was. He let her Papa get away with anything.

With these thoughts as her only friend and distraction on their way down the mountain side, Kaeda walked with a skip in her step. She knew things were serious, do not mistake her, but she believed in her family. In her home. In her people.

As Kaeda had grown, she had nothing to say to these thoughts.

The horses that pulled the wagon were a brilliant white, with black and grey around the hooves and mouth. They were a gift from her Avus when her Papa and Atta had gotten married. They were strong horses, that much Kaeda knew.

A large boom sounded from behind them, just as they had made it off the mountain and onto flat ground. Kaeda tried to turn back, to see what had happened to her home, to her people, to her family, but the guard holding her hand had held her closer to his leg, yelling over the ringing in her ears not to look back.

She wanted to, oh, she wanted to, but she didn’t. Somewhere inside her, she knew it was best to listen to the man. Kess, his name was. When this was all over, she thoughts, she was going to ask her Atta to get Kess into a better position, maybe even never having to fight again.

Kess lifted her up when the second large boom came, her head tucked into the chest of his armour, and walked around to the back of the wagon. He placed her inside before he jumped in as well, and shouted for the man steering to “Πηγαίνω!”. He took off the bow that was slung across his back and took an arrow from his quiver, and notched it. Kess aimed at the trees around them as the horses took off into a gallop. The other soldiers with them took off in a run beside them, which Kaeda could only tell due to her hearing.

Kess was in a very specific position which blocked her view of the mountain she called home. The wagon shook and rocked at the speed they were going on such an uneven road, making it so even what she could see was only shaky glimpses.

The rocking reminded her of when she had nightmares, dreams of a shadowy figure with pure, milky white eyes reaching for her, mournful in its stance, but never angry. It was more unnerving than anything else. She would normally go to her parents when that happened, convinced that they could fight off anything, even her dreams, but even when she didn’t go to them, her Papa would still come in, almost like he could sense, or feel, when she needed him. He would hold her, no matter whether she went to him or he to her, and hum, and softly rock or sway. It would always make her feel better, and she would fall asleep within minutes, without any nightmares.

Kaeda squeezed her eyes shut tight, tight enough to see stars behind her eyes, and started humming to herself the same tune her Papa would. She pulled her knees up to her chest, rested her chin on her knees and arms, and softly rocked back and forth on the wagon's floor.

Her cloak acted as a makeshift blanket, the skin emanating a soft warmth that resonated with it, despite no longer being connected to the dragon it came from anymore. It was a poor contrast to her bed, or being held by her Papa, or being squished between her Papa and Atta, but it was better than the numbness that began to seep into her, the hopelessness of the world around her finally starting to win against her childhood innocence.

Between the rocking, her humming, and the almost warmth of the cloak, she dropped off into sleep and away from the horror around her, wishing she could hear her parents' heartbeats in the room next to hers.

| |||| |||

When Kaeda woke up, the night was calmer, like the night it should’ve been. Silver moonlight glowed and streaked through the gaps in between leaves, the Thaus Blua timberland as beautiful as ever. She could almost convince herself that this was just a stroll she was taking with her Papa. They did that sometimes, especially when her Atta was going to be busy for a long time. The night wasn’t plagued by any screams or sorrow or death, it was almost perfect. Except, it wasn’t. Her Papa and Atta weren’t with her, and this night wasn’t being spent with them, wasn’t in the mountain, wasn’t even in Etros.

Kess was still in the wagon, but whereas Kaeda had gotten sleep, no matter that it was only two hours of it, he had not. Instead, he was visibly exhausted. He blinked very slowly, and his head swayed like it wanted to loll to the side and fall into sleep, but he wouldn’t allow himself the luxury.

The wagon was still swaying and rocking, but it was much calmer than before, with the horses having slowed from their gallop into a walk. Kaeda could see the other guards from out the back of the wagon, their steps slow and obviously tired, but nonetheless determined.

She clung to her cloak, wrapping it even tighter around herself, and the subtle movement was enough to alert Kess to the fact she had awoken.

“Hey, little Elf, how’re you feeling?” Kess asked while shifting to face her, his tired but soft and kind face a welcome image to her.

“Alright, I guess. Quod factum est?” Kaeda asked. She had switched to her First Tongue, a result of her still scrambled mind. Kess offered her a small and weary smile, before he turned to look out of the back of the wagon again, without having given her any answer. Dread coiled around her insides, before it twisted itself into a knot in her stomach and dropped like a stone inside her, where it lingered in the silence.

Kaeda took a deep breath and tried to focus on the steady noise of the horses hooves hitting the dirt, and the fresh and clean smell of air, a welcome change from the ash and metal and pp infested air of Etros.

They continued on like that for hours, long enough for the moon to begin to slip down the sky, and the golden rays of the sun to emerge and chase away the silver light that the moon gifted. The timberland around them was full of noise yet also so absent of it. It was there, yes, but you could only truly hear it if you listened, you couldn’t just hear it. So, when a rustle was heard, not listened for, heard, Kess was already ready with his sword of Stroitine.

Three beasts with the heads and faces of women emerged, but they had wings where their arms should’ve been, and gross talons where feet and legs were meant to be. Their torsos were covered in feathers, up to their collar bones, which jutted out in a way that was almost painful to look at. Their faces were not much better. Their eyes were small and beady, and their lips were thin and cruel. Their hair was matted with blood and soot, and they reeked, and the human parts of their skin looked dank.

But they were not the scariest parts, no, no, they were nowhere near the scariest parts. No, the scariest parts were the multiple Soul-Eaters behind them.

They wore shadowy, billowy cloaks over them, and their horses were almost see through, like a shadow. The features on the Soul-Eaters were hidden, all except one feature Kaeda had seen too often in her dreams. Milky white eyes, lacking in iris and pupil. They had Ioskil swords, and loomed behind the beasts. There were five in total.

Kaeda and her Cambion guards stared at all the beasts, from the three Harpies to the five Soul-Eaters, for a moment, the eight other creatures stared right back. Then, all hells broke loose.

Kess stayed in the wagon, but pressed Kaeda between himself and the wagon's wall, his sword poised to strike. The other guards rushed the beasts, and the beasts rushed to meet them. Ioskil clashed against Stroitine, and Kaeda’s eyes had begun to burn. Hadn’t enough blood been spilled, hadn’t enough died, hadn’t enough suffered? She had smelt more pp and tears and fear, heard more screams and sobs, seen more death and blood in those few hours than she had ever dreamed possible.

Eventually, the Soul-Eaters made it through the guards. The Harpies had died fairly quickly, they weren’t really any match against Cambions and Stroitine. One Soul-Eater approached the wagon, where Kaeda was still crouched behind Kess, who gripped the hilt of his sword with a special kind of fury and determination. The beast reached it’s boney, skeletal hand inside the wagon, stretched it’s thin, long fingers toward them. Kess struck them with his blade.

The hand recoiled, as did the body it was connected to, but not for long. The Soul-Eater lashed quickly, and had flung Kess out of the wagon, where Ioskil swords rained down on him. He tried to block the blows, he did, he did, he really did, but tried does not mean success.

From her spot still in the wagon, Kaeda could see his sea-green eyes lose their life, could see the moment his body stopped, when the rivers of red that flowed from his body became too much, when he was forced to succumb to death.

With the last remaining guard fallen, the Soul-Eaters turned their attention to Kaeda.

Fear and adrenaline flowed through her, as she sprang up and leapt out of the wagon and onto Eossilyn. She dashed and ran, zipped around the dark trees, the Soul-Eaters horses following noisily behind her. If she had had a moment of clarity to think, she would’ve considered taking one of the horses still connected to the wagon, as it’s easier to outrun a horse when you’re on one yourself, but she then would’ve realised that she would have to cut the horse out of its bonds, and that would have taken far too long, wasted time she did not have, so it didn’t really matter. So, she continued to run.

She could hear one horse gaining on her, it’s pounding hooves making a burning heat rise in her throat. Kaeda was exhausted already, and her breath came in short bursts, her chest heaved and felt like her home mountain was resting on it.

All of that meant nothing to her. She didn’t feel it, couldn’t feel it. The only thing she could think and feel was her desire to get away, to run as far away from what she saw as possible, until she ran so far and so fast that she ran into her Papa and Atta, who would sweep her up into their arms, hold her, and tell her it was all over. For she knew this couldn’t have been a dream, couldn’t have been a nightmare, as, in nightmares, you cannot feel the sharp, whip-quick pain of a Soul-Eaters blade against the back of your neck. She did, and so she knew this was real, no matter how badly she wished it wasn’t.

The pain didn’t make her stumble, no, she was far too deep in adrenaline and fear for a nick of pain to make her trip up. She merely ran faster. Kaeda ran, ran, ran, until a bog came into view.

It was a risk, yes, but she didn’t exactly have a choice. She changed her direction until she ran straight into the wetland, the ground soft and dank under her. She was able to run for a few seconds more before she was plunged into a wet darkness. Mud and filthy water surrounded her. She could not tell what direction was up, so she simply picked one, and kicked.

Kaeda kicked and thrashed for what felt like an eternity before she breached the surface. She hauled herself onto a more firm and stable area of land, and took off running again.

It was only after she noticed that she could not hear the Soul-Eaters steeds after her that she began to slow. She took a cautious look around her, and found she was right. The Soul-Eaters were nowhere in sight. Later, once she was older and knew more, she realised that it was because they could no longer smell her, the water and mud and bog covering her scent of Elven fear.

Once she was confident she was safe, if only in the bog, the adrenaline and fear that coursed through her began to leave her. Kaeda collapsed in the dirt, crawling until she reached a rock she could lay her back against. As she laid there, she slowly had begun to catch her breath, and with her breath came the pain across her neck.

It seared and burned, but not like a fire, no, more like when it is so terribly cold and freezing it feels as though it burns. She bit her lip until she could taste metal, a flavour she was becoming far too familiar with, to keep from crying out. She turned, bracing herself against the rock as she looked into the murky water. At her reflection.

It was an image she was terribly familiar with, but that was also so forgein to her.

In the water she could see herself, her pale skin, her nearly white blonde hair, her features that were obviously going to be a slender form of beauty and elegance once she lost her baby fat, but it was her eyes. They were not the crystalline blue that was just like her Papa’s, no, these eyes were a horrible, horrible, gross, disgusting milky white, without iris or pupil. Just white. But not a clean and pretty white, like a pearl or stone or diamond, no, it was a white like spoiled milk. Not pure white, but you couldn’t quite say what other colour there was, just that it wasn’t white. Around the corners, dark, black veins were visible, and they were just as horrible as the rest of her eyes. The only way you could tell where she was looking was because of the slightly raised area where her pupils and iris should’ve been.

She was pulled out of her stupor by the feeling of thick blood running down her back, and her appearance was suddenly the last thing on her mind. She reached around to the back of her neck, winced when she touched the cut that was weeping blood, and brought her hand back in front of her. Her hand was covered in blood, she knew that it had to be. She gets cut, she starts to bleed, that’s just how any body works, no matter the race or creature. She knew she was bleeding, and her hand didn’t come back clean, which should’ve been a fairly good sign. Body is working well, bleeds like a pig, as it should. But, see, the trouble was, blood is red. Throughout all of the races, if it could bleed, it bled red, that was common knowledge. But, when she brought her hand back in front of her, it was not red that coated her hand, but blue. A light, crystalline blue, like her eyes should’ve been.

As she sat there, alternating between staring at her hand and her own eyes in her reflection, Kaeda could only think one thing: What have I become?

[wanderlust-spirits]

Personality Test: Kohaku

Campaigner Personality (ENFP, -A)

Role: Diplomat

Strategy: People Mastery

“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for – and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool – for love – for your dreams – for the adventure of being alive.”  -Oriah Mountain Dreamer

The Campaigner personality is a true free spirit. They are often the life of the party, but unlike types in the Explorer Role group, Campaigners are less interested in the sheer excitement and pleasure of the moment than they are in enjoying the social and emotional connections they make with others. Charming, independent, energetic and compassionate, the 7% of the population that they comprise can certainly be felt in any crowd.

You Can Change the World With Just an Idea

More than just sociable people-pleasers though, Campaigners, like all their Diplomat cousins, are shaped by their Intuitive (N) quality, allowing them to read between the lines with curiosity and energy. They tend to see life as a big, complex puzzle where everything is connected – but unlike Analyst personality types, who tend to see that puzzle as a series of systemic machinations, Campaigners see it through a prism of emotion, compassion and mysticism, and are always looking for a deeper meaning. Campaigners are fiercely independent, and much more than stability and security, they crave creativity and freedom. 

Many other types are likely to find these qualities irresistible, and if they’ve found a cause that sparks their imagination, Campaigners will bring an energy that oftentimes thrusts them into the spotlight, held up by their peers as a leader and a guru – but this isn’t always where independence-loving Campaigners want to be. Worse still if they find themselves beset by the administrative tasks and routine maintenance that can accompany a leadership position. Campaigners’ self-esteem is dependent on their ability to come up with original solutions, and they need to know that they have the freedom to be innovative – they can quickly lose patience or become dejected if they get trapped in a boring role.

Don’t Lose That ’Little Spark of Madness’

Luckily, Campaigners know how to relax, and they are perfectly capable of switching from a passionate, driven idealist in the workplace to that imaginative and enthusiastic free spirit on the dance floor, often with a suddenness that can surprise even their closest friends. Being in the mix also gives them a chance to connect emotionally with others, giving them cherished insight into what motivates their friends and colleagues. They believe that everyone should take the time to recognize and express their feelings, and their empathy and sociability make that a natural conversation topic.

The Campaigner personality type needs to be careful, however – if they rely too much on their intuition, assume or anticipate too much about a friend’s motivations, they can misread the signals and frustrate plans that a more straightforward approach would have made simple. This kind of social stress is the bugbear that keeps harmony-focused Diplomats awake at night. Campaigners are very emotional and sensitive, and when they step on someone’s toes, they both feel it. Campaigners will spend a lot of time exploring social relationships, feelings and ideas before they find something that really rings true. But when they finally do find their place in the world, their imagination, empathy and courage are likely to produce incredible results.

Strengths:

Curious – When it comes to new ideas, Campaigners aren’t interested in brooding – they want to go out and experience things, and don’t hesitate to step out of their comfort zones to do so. Campaigners are imaginative and open-minded, seeing all things as part of a big, mysterious puzzle called life.

Observant – Campaigners believe that there are no irrelevant actions, that every shift in sentiment, every move and every idea is part of something bigger. To satisfy their curiosity, Campaigners try to notice all of these things, and to never miss a moment.

Energetic and Enthusiastic – As they observe, forming new connections and ideas, Campaigners won’t hold their tongues – they’re excited about their findings, and share them with anyone who’ll listen. This infectious enthusiasm has the dual benefit of giving Campaigners a chance to make more social connections, and of giving them a new source of information and experience, as they fit their new friends’ opinions into their existing ideas.

Excellent Communicators – It’s a good thing that Campaigners have such strong people skills, or they’d never express these ideas. Campaigners enjoy both small talk and deep, meaningful conversations, which are just two sides of the same coin for them, and are adept at steering conversations towards their desired subjects in ways that feel completely natural and unforced.

Know How to Relax – It’s not all “nature of the cosmos” discussions with Campaigners – people with this personality type know that sometimes, nothing is as important as simply having fun and experiencing life’s joys. That Intuitive trait lets Campaigners know that it’s time to shake things up, and these wild bursts of enthusiastic energy can surprise even their closest friends.

Very Popular and Friendly – All this adaptability and spontaneity comes together to form a person who is approachable, interesting and exciting, with a cooperative and altruistic spirit and friendly, empathetic disposition. Campaigners get along with pretty much everyone, and their circles of friends stretch far and wide.

Weaknesses:

Poor Practical Skills – When it comes to conceiving ideas and starting projects, especially involving other people, Campaigners have exceptional talent. Unfortunately their skill with upkeep, administration, and follow-through on those projects struggles. Without more hands-on people to help push day-to-day things along, Campaigners’ ideas are likely to remain just that – ideas.

Find it Difficult to Focus – Campaigners are natural explorers of interpersonal connections and philosophy, but this backfires when what needs to be done is that TPS report sitting right in front of them. It’s hard for Campaigners to maintain interest as tasks drift towards routine, administrative matters, and away from broader concepts.

Overthink Things – Campaigners don’t take things at face value – they look for underlying motives in even the simplest things. It’s not uncommon for Campaigners to lose a bit of sleep asking themselves why someone did what they did, what it might mean, and what to do about it.

Get Stressed Easily – All this overthinking isn’t just for their own benefit – Campaigners, especially Turbulent ones, are very sensitive, and care deeply about others’ feelings. A consequence of their popularity is that others often look to them for guidance and help, which takes time, and it’s easy to see why Campaigners sometimes get overwhelmed, especially when they can’t say yes to every request.

Highly Emotional – While emotional expression is healthy and natural, with Campaigners even viewing it as a core part of their identity, it can come out strongly enough to cause problems for this personality type. Particularly when under stress, criticism or conflict, Campaigners can experience emotional bursts that are counter-productive at best.

Independent to a Fault – Campaigners loathe being micromanaged and restrained by heavy-handed rules – they want to be seen as highly independent masters of their own fates, even possessors of an altruistic wisdom that goes beyond draconian law. The challenge for Campaigners is that they live in a world of checks and balances, a pill they are not happy to swallow.

Take the test here!!!

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