#hyethla

[catleha]

"Do you hate me?"

            unprompted /. @hyethla    

     ‹  IF ONLY MATTERS WERE THAT EASY, DEVOID OF EVERY NUANCE; if only, if only, if only, say it a few times more, perhaps the inevitable outcome would eventually change. Maybe vowels would rearrange, eradicating a fate, a bitterness she could bear no more. Aye, mayhaps if one could only pretend to have forgotten the grave tidings of yesteryear; a rogue’s hunched figurine, scorched glare envisioning his lips moving, mouthing the very words she had feared more than anything found in this corporal realm: death, destruction wrought through her very own hand. – && the world was gone. Spinning, endlessly; white noise, a hot spark rushing down her very spine / scream, yell, cry. REALIZE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE.

         && blindness had never been so cruel, had never been so unkind! Oh, to be unable to read his very mien, incapable of gauging the nature of his shock, his REACTION, his ... aye, his hate? Would he blame her? Cursing her name under his breath -- ? I regret, I regret, I regret it all; childish & unfair / a mere girl full of scorn, deeming the late antecedent naught but a impediment. – how vile the Gods were, how heartless, how … how … devoid of fault. Why, it had been you, & you alone.

         Composure kept back then, teeth ground relentlessly / filed nails dug into softest palm / oh so calm, oh so CAPABLE of handling tidings so devastating, so sorrowful. Why, what did she mean to you? Too soft, too kind, too caring. Aye, yet too undeserving of a demise caused by magic’s careless nature. – recall a mumbled word, a single nod [he could read it in your very mien, are you aware?]; && flee. Eloping into the wilds, blindly trashing through the undergrowth. CURSED be emotions, CURSED be own pride / forlorn, plagued by a loss that left a void; why, why, why did it effect you that much? Why did it hurt? What did she mean to you? WHAT DID SHE MEAN TO YOU, PRAY TELL??

        Say, are you succumbing to the same sentiment now? Frantic grief, silent tears shed in utter solitude, with a single hand clawed into the fabric of her coat?. Lo, sense blood running cold, a pang of guilt felt at the back of throbbing head / staggering as if she had just taken a hammer blow to the chest? Body trembling / breath held. No sound passed one’s lips / suffocate. As if back at the beginning, as if tossed back to a point of harrowing doubt & survivor’s guilt [oh so undeserving of second chance]; punished & damned to wander, to remain, to see physical form rot & wither, sensing decay every passing hour. 

       Perhaps the Gods had picked a most fitting destiny for a woman of own kind [hardened, remorseless, ruthless, vile / vile / VILE]; nonsense. Toil more, regret more, RELAPSE & REMEMBER: flow, blinding light. The sound of gushing aether, the sentiment of being BURNT alive whilst holding on, last glance cast towards Thancred close by [oh, I have hurt you the most, have I not?]. – how effortless it had seemed, to cast a spell that ancient, that FEARED & PROSCRIBED. Ah, perhaps he would live / once upon a time that had seemed like such a noble thing to be reminiscent of; what was it now, pray tell, if not a shameful memory / dreadful, carved into her fractured heart. -- marred muscle beating oh so heavily; poor thing,  compressed through a myriad of emotions [repressed, repressed] & words she would not mutter & memories she would CONDEMN: of a dead girl, a conjurer lost in the stream. 

       Blind & incapable of distinguishing features in the very mass that built Minfilia’s THE ORACLE’s form, one could not help but wonder: does she wear her hair like the antecedent once did? Petite braids set against her scalp, a spiked ponytail, bangs framing a rather sleek visage, high cheekbones, gentle eyes oh so inapt in imitating old master’s scornful grimace. – oft cursed at, seen as naught but a nuisance, not able to comprehend the very workings of her field. An enforcer of superfluous regulations; too placid, lacking Louisoix’ stoicism. Does she wear a traditional dress, laden with frilly accessories / pointless weaponry attached to her very hip? 

         Does she?

      Silence stretches on, other’s REQUEST hanging above her very neck akin to a Damocles sword; sharpened edge set against the nape, drawing blood / prompting a wound called self-consciousness [HATE]. Say, Minfilia, have you come back to haunt her? To trade a life for a life & return whilst lifestream would eat away your murderer’s very husk? RELAPSE & REMEMBER: drifting through the aetherial realm, listening to own dwindling pulse. 

       ' Do you hate me? '        Does she? 

     ❛ Quite the inquiry. ❜  taciturn. factual. clipped. – devoid of emotions, a voice steeled by a hardened heart [she weeps, internally]. Lo, she moves again; taking a single calculated step, scorched gander flung across enchanted candles. – a wayfinder, a focal point. REFUSE TO LOOK AT HER. Distract yourself, distract yourself, distract yourself. – papers, scriptures, black leather grimoire, white pages, dark letters, a glimmer of red, ah RED akin to the very blood dripping off balled digits. Blood? AYE, recall the antecedent / HER [aye, the one you killed]; magic is vicious, is it not? It gives & it takes, it feasts & it spits out. – focus, FOCUS. Nay, she could not.

     Heart racing, head aching; ah, the pounding of her pulse, limbs growing feeble / feckless / frail! Hot & cold. Pale & tenuous, flat palms suddenly slammed onto the desk below. – cue a pause, dull glare cast onto the wall. The flicker of candles, an aetherial signature she used as … as a focal point, aye. To navigate, to move swiftly through the caves dug into Rak’tika’s manifold roots / shying away from the very SUN; supersaturated planes that had begun to make ‘seeing’ oh so difficult. A hazard, a … an inconvenience. Something meant to be worked around, indeed. 

     Perhaps this specter was the same kind of obstacle. 

     ❛ Pray – ❜ she begins, trailing off as if lost in thoughts. -- did they truly look alike? The same mellow gaze, the same meek smile prone to grow & fade away? The same ash blonde hair, the same gestures frantically done whenever Cultured Conjurer refused to cooperate yet again? Mien distorts, tensed by blatant agony. – here’s to one’s grandest sin, the foolery of man forever embedded in her every pore. A WALKING / TALKING REMINDER: of hubris, self-martyrdom, failure.– ah, she feels much & more, with one’s back turned & hunched over. Voice hoarse [harsh, moreso], steadied by stoicism alone; hands busying themselves with parchment scattered across the very desk. – yes. ❛ -- you never gave me a reason to do so, did you? ❜

[domasheir]

❝ It has a corruption of its own, worse than the corruption of death itself—something that would breed horrors and yet would never die. ❞

There was this deep feeling building up in his chest. something he wanted to go away quickly. Though, he knew very well that whatever he was seeing, and what she was saying met more than needed. a sigh left his lips, and his eyes remain to stare down to the ground. Now he knew Primals were a threat, but when it came to humans — well so-called humans. He shouldn’t misjudge so much now, should he? 

He wasn’t very sure. 

Slowly shaking his head for a moment, he slowly raised his head, and then back looking at the woman. Eyes stared at her for a moment before he moved, adjusting his stance a little bit. leaning to one good than another. 

           “ Is there no way we can stop it? Try and purify it? I will not question it too much, but I have that even if something was corrupted. There is this tough, that it will be—- well still be able to get saved. Or am I thinking too much into this? I don’t mind being corrected, but I do feel as if there is more to this, then you are saying.” 

                                         ( SENTENCE STARTERS ) accepting || @hyethla

[zodiaerc]

@hyethla Closed Starter

    Another day, another morning waking up with no memory of the past. Not even his name came to mind as he stared at the all to bright sky above him, covered in a light that hurt his eyes to look at. Sitting up in his cot, his brain found it hard to try and remember what had happened the day prier but had no such luck. Damn, he thought to himself softly.

      ‘ .....What am I doing here in the first place... ’ 

    It was soft and mainly to himself as he reached up with his hand to brush his hair out a little. Messy like always....and like when they found him in the Tempest. Who was they again? Oh right Thancred and Minfilia. At least he could remember their names. His eyes squinted slightly as he looked at his hands, there were cracks in them and it didn’t look like blood or anything was coming out but some kind of shiny looking stuff.

     Hearing the tent’s door being opened, the silver slowly looked up to see who it was that was coming inside to greet him for the day.

[hisburden-blog]

‘ do you trust me enough? do you trust me at all? ’

GROWLING SUGGESTION.              accepting.

THOSE BRIGHT BLUE EYES pierced into him with the same innocence he had seen so many years before; an innocence that he would vow to protect from ever being stolen again. “ of course I trust you, minfilia ” he reassured her, though the shakiness in his own voice was more than enough cause for doubt. how could he trust what he was struggling to believe was real? 

she appeared just as she had then, the childlike form only serving as a painful reminder that this was that very same girl he had saved that day -- had she come to haunt him? was this his punishment for not being able to protect her, for failing her not once but countless times over the years? lifting a hand to his mouth in a weak attempt to cover himself, thancred choked back tears as his memories came rushing to the forefront of his mind. this ghost of minfilia that stood before him seemed so lifelike, a vision pulled straight from his own mind -- none of the others would recognise her beyond the vague similarities she bore to her adult self. this was his burden to bear; one that he would hold until he made things right.

“ I'm just struggling to believe that you’re truly here with me again, that you’re alive. pray forgive me for taking my time to process it -- I trusted you with my heart and soul before, I am not sure if I am ready to risk the thought of losing you again. ”

[viisguard]

@hyethla​

Lyna quirks an eyebrow, lilac gaze watching the young girl curiously as she searches for her ribbon before softening. “No, I can’t say I have. But don’t worry, I’ll help you look.” The Viis offers, before a faint chuckle passes through her lips. “Maybe I’ll be able to see it better from up here?” A light-hearted jest about their difference in height.

Her hand raises to her brow then as she scans the area around them, searching for the ribbon in question. Lyna herself had lost many ribbons throughout the years, her thick hair unwilling to be held back for long.

[damxum]

hyethla replied to your post: 💘 

you are a good noodle despite stealing all the cinnamonbuns 

In your case, you’re sweet enough already. No need for extra diabetes.

[adelphoisaie]

Sherlock seasons 1-3: sentence starters / @hyethla​

“ minfilia! ” flustered by highlander’s words. feeling called out for something that, okay, yes, was her fault. but she didn’t mean to push the male out the window, causing him to get as injured as he did. “ he was trying to attack me! so i just... it was self — defense! i promise! he only fell once. i didn’t realize how close he was to the window! that’s all! ”

[dracepis]

*  ANSWER  TWENTY - ONE  QUESTIONS  !

TAG  TWENTY - ONE  PEOPLE  YOU’D  LIKE  TO  KNOW  BETTER. SOME QUESTIONS MAY BE ‘ ??? ‘ INSTEAD OF ANSWERED.

01.    NICKNAME  :  Cal. 02.    REAL  NAME  :   Calpernia ( not what I’m called in real life, but... tumblr name. )  03.    ZODIAC  :   No. 04.    HEIGHT  :   Quite short. 05.    WHAT  TIME  IS  IT  ?  :    Rather late.  06.    FAVOURITE  MUSICIANS  /  GROUPS  :   Right now I am really into the Da Vinci Code soundtrack.  07.    FAVOURITE  SPORTS  TEAM  :   I know literally nothing about sports.  08.    OTHER  BLOGS  : @ophithea ( my Lysithea ) and @hyethla ( a very Hydaelyn infused Minfilia Warde from FFXIV ) + a ton of other inactive ones. Though Minfilia can probably count as inactive too.  09.    DO  I  GET  ASKS  ?  :   Ye.  10.    HOW  MANY  BLOGS  DO  I  FOLLOW  ?  :   30, I believe. 11.    ANY  TUMBLR  CRUSHES  :    That would be rather awkward, considering my girlfriend is in the fandom, so no.  12.    LUCKY  NUMBER  :   3.  13.    WHAT  AM  I  WEARING  RIGHT  NOW  :   Fishnet stockings ofc, what else.   14.    DREAM  VACATION  :  Paris. 15.    DREAM  CAR  :   Just a safe one, I do not really care about cars.  16.    FAVOURITE  FOOD  :    Anything with potatoes.  17.    DRINK  OF  CHOICE  :    Coffee! Strong and bitter.  18.    LANGUAGES  :   Swedish, German, English.  19.    INSTRUMENTS  :    I play violin and piano.  20.    CELEBRITY  CRUSHES  :   Not really a crush, but I absolutely adore Lisa Gerrard. 21.    RANDOM  FACT  : Much like FE3H’s most dear professor, I, too, am a teacher. Only instead of battle techniques, I teach music, and my students are 9. 

TAGGED BY: @corverea ( you love my space dolphins ) TAGGING: @aethele ; @bladebreakcr ; @goldensonshine ; @dagdanwolf ; @freiheitxdrang

[breselin]

A PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE.   REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG, with the information of your muse,  including headcanons,  etc.  if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some others of your own !

NAME.     Sephiroth [ Crescent ] NICKNAME(S).     He does have some, but only used by his partners. ALIAS(ES). AGE.     verse dependent, generally 20-40.  SPECIES.     'human’. GENDER.     male. ORIENTATION.     demisexual | demiromantic. INTERESTS.     reading; learning in general, specifically about languages and customs of different places he visited before [ be it on missions or in his personal travels ] making him quite open about all that is happening around; sparring as much as someone is able to keep up with him [ and favoured by him, additionally ]; cooking at times.   PROFESSION.     SOLDIER 1st Class + ShinRa General [ CC + BC ], Wanderer [ in and after the OG ] BODY TYPE.     mesomorph, tall and muscular, long limbs, broad chest and shoulders, rather narrow waist and hips EYES.     fluorescent green: due to the mako-experimentations [ CC ], they are notably greener in what we have seen in the remake. bright blue [ Dissidia ]. Something that stands out for him is that his eyes are slit like a cat’s  HAIR.     straight and long, down to his calves in some visuals, silver colour. SKIN.     pale. FACE.     defined features, appearing much younger than he is at times as he doesn’t age physically anymore, thus he always looks like his mid-twenties. HEIGHT.     197 cm [ Dissidia ] ANTAGONISTS.     everybody.

     “ There was one SOLDIER named Sephiroth, who was better than the rest. But when he found out about the terrible experiments that made him, he began to hate Shinra. And then, over time, he began to hate everything. Shinra, and the people against them. Sephiroth, who hated the planet so much that he wanted to make it go away. And the people who tried to stop him. There were a lot of battles. For every battle, there was more sadness. “ - Marlene Wallace

COLORS.     White, silver, black, blues and greens. FRUITS.     anything, he’s not picky. DRINKS.     coffee, strong ones at best. ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES?     Yes. SMOKES?     No. DRUGS?     No. DRIVERS LICENSE?     Yes.

TAGGED BY: @hyethla and @catleha ♡~ TAGGING: HMMM

@andurinn | @furnezh | @lazhadeg - @falsificare | @quirofiliac | @lichsent | @daemonczar - @edhelaran - @culturedconjurer - @cielcrd | @ofastrcmancy - @noxwarrior - @dayofazure - @regalvus - @daintycure - @kohkytus - @bloodfcst - @ndeavor - @leveilleurisms - @alisaie-leveilleur - @valorxdrive - @faemoria - @mandadios - [ and whoever wants to! just say I tagged you ].

[onlyliberty-a]

RULES  :  repost &  fill  in  with  the  words  you  most associate  with  your  character.

ANIMAL  :  fox.

COLOUR  :  red.

MONTH  :   march.

SONG(s)  :  rose tattoo - dropkick murphys, the parting glass - mod, arsonist’s lullaby - hozier.

NUMBER  :  3.

DAY  OR  NIGHT  :  day.

PLANT  :  shasta daisies.

SMELL  :  gunpowder, salt, rum with the underlying bitterness of sweat. 

SEASON  :  spring.

FOOD  :  hearty stews, breads, stodgy but filling.

ASTROLOGICAL  SIGN  :   pisces.

ELEMENT  :  fire

DRINK  : rum and ale.

TAGGED  BY  :  the ever-lovely @killedinstead. TAGGING :  @onlycertainty, @moltementi, @deathlydivinity ( for damsel? ), @swift-vengeance-waits, @catleha, @nosdeus + @hyethla.

[catleha]

"Hey Y'Shtola, what is it called when a cat paints itself?" A pause. "A self paw-trait!"

        PERISH. oh wait you are dead already.

[catleha]

 @hyethla asked: falls asleep on her desk aka a depressing drabble nobody asked for.

  ‹  THERE WAS A SOFTNESS INSIDE HER; oft disregarded, set aside as if meant to fade & wither. Sparsely had she openly shown signs of a more mellow composure, something beyond the rough demeanor of a hardened scholar raised in a cave; ‘twould seem she was someone oh so in love with chiding words & a certain scorn, following in old matron’s footsteps oh so indignantly. Yet sometimes one could not help but surrender; a blink, a mere string of syllables muttered underneath her very breath: requesting help, leaning onto a dear friend’s shoulder. Oh, such moments were rare & brilliant in their subtlety -- clandestine, softest palm set against pugilist's very arm to express concern / an embrace shared with her dear astrologist after being saved from ash & cinder -- prone to bursts of compassion, expressed in her very peculiar way; admitting defeat, mourning the loss of so much / seemingly so little. 

      Oh, only two have ever borne witness to a more mild-mannered side; an astronomer, ever so delicately building the most unlikely camaraderie forged midst a raging forest fire & the desire to find someone to confide in. A healer, just like she once had been with a gift, however, not blighted by crude persona / whatever darkness dwelt within. -- why, Urianger’s very words never ceased to remedy what own doubt tempted to tear apart. The second was someone regarded with mayhaps a bit too much cordiality -- Lyse, an even more unlikely companion; pondering day & night about her whereabouts & well-being, as if one’s very existence was enough to threaten the lives of those she had chosen to love. What else could one of her kind do but worry, those that had died had mainly been hers to doom. -- perhaps that had been the sole reason for their unlikely bond; the agony felt over the loss of another. && through one would have never admitted anything similar: both, Papalymo & Minfilia had left a hole, a gaping void; ‘twas only herself she ought to blame for the demise of the latter. 

         Now & forevermore, it seemed.

      Memories oft lingered on that very day; seething light, own voice drowned by the very rumble heard above. -- flow. Oh, had she but known the repercussions of that wretched spell. Had she but known that next to the rogue she ought to save, yet another had been cast into the lifestream only to be grasped & used. Lost & forlorn, too far beyond an archon’s reach. && upon awakening, upon being torn out of a dreamless slumber, what numbness had overcome heart & soul both? This foreboding sentiment of something sinister / this excruciating feeling of uncertainty? Something had not been quite right, something no longer in place. -- pray, recall the anxiety / the panic / the paralyzing realization that one had PAID; for what, she could not tell alas alas, now she knew. 

    Blind eyes could not decipher the details of her unwelcomed guest's clothes, hair or stature, could not determine what the child’s motives had been ere drifting off. Yet ears could decipher a quiet little ‘snore’; most gentle breath, the minuscule rustle of accessories dragged across the wooden surface. The girl had most likely exhausted herself, had studied whatever ancient tome she had wagered to haul onto the sage’s own desk. -- inclined to sort papers & parchments, trying so desperately to be of use. For but a moment, a witch would remain, scorched gander cast above the oracle’s very head; drifting, yet again in keepsakes long forgotten. Aye, ‘twas a familiar sight. Yet in her memories ‘twas a woman hunched over her desk, asleep with her face resting upon latest paperwork; remember: usually beatific features twisted into some somber mien, with brows furrowed & petite wrinkles there to cast drab shadows across an otherwise juvenile visage. Never had younger self dared to disturb; why, the antecedent had had a tendency to hardly rest; not before all work was done. Always laboring, quarreling, intermingling. -- ears twitch, lids flutter. Remember, remember: you have been acquaintances, comrades, fellow scions bound by the will to protect & serve a greater good.

     Alas upon rogue & oracle’s arrival, there had been no love for a child bearing the name Minfilia of the First, no recollection, no merry moment meant to prompt some heartfelt reunion. Adamant & unforgiving, had MASTER MATOYA not but turned on her very heel, solemnly cursing what dear friends had dragged into her lair. What was this thing but a pawn cast out of Hydalyn’s maw; a mere trick, a carbon copy meant to manipulate & deceive. A common cause meant to anchor them to this wretched world. Torture! Naught but a crude joke with an aether as bright as the First’s original sin. -- & yet times had changed; here a girl oh so eager to please, to see the good in people, to be seen as someone else. 

     Seconds pass, ticking on & on ‘till craned neck grew stiff. ‘twas a cruel sentiment, destiny’s bitter hand dealt & taken. A curse, a horrid quip; an ache so palpable she could not ignore it no matter how much one attempted; to bury it alongside former self / to adjust & cease to trace the scar deeply craved into her very chest. Naught but a spectre, chained to the sins of yesteryear. -- what are you, if not a woman turned stone to bear & bear forevermore for the sake of those you have learned to love more than your very self? Again & again predestined to sacrifice yourself ‘till final breath would leave parted lips. Brushing loss aside akin to a common bruise. Predestined to stand tall, to be the voice of wisdom, of reason, of strength found in the most sullen of nights; to pave the way for THEIR WARRIOR OF LIGHT. && never falter, never break for those they could yet save.  -- o, all this came over her in this very moment, haunting, clawing at her very heart. All this & more, all this & ceaseless worry / guilt / most bitter regret. An old, bleeding wound; a knife stuck / grown between her ribs torn out by a girl who was as innocent as she was guilty.

     There, a witch moves, slender hand reaching for the very cloak she never forgot to don. A gallant motion dispatched that tattered thing ere yet another followed aether sight’s guiding hand. Clumsily would she drape the cloth over other’s slumbering body, her shoal glimmer briskly brightening an otherwise blackened field of vision before vanishing ever so slightly. 

     Lo, a witch moves once more / freed from prior stupor, eager to continue the same evening routine [ever sleepless]. Fleeing her study, eloping into the sheltering night. To not return ‘till Urianger would wake the oracle in the morrow, parting ways with the Night’s Blessed sage once more. Without a word, without a second glance; running, hiding [hypocrite] midst whispering winds & roots & everything wild; to again permit herself a moment of solitude / weakness, to allow frenzied mind to return to its former work. -- turning to stone whilst ears listened to the soft buzzing of the Greatwood’s nocturnal life. 

[catleha]

"Y'Shtola..." the leader sighs, eyes flickering over the ground as if she didn't quite know what to focus at. "I value what you bring to the group, and as you know, I cherish our friendship dearly but... You must understand, we have protocols and certain patterns we all must follow. I've received some complaints, and quite frankly, I have one of my own. You cannot act on a whim when you belong to something bigger, that is simply not how we do it here."

            unprompted /. @hyethla

     ‹  TO SAY SHE WAS NOT SURPRISED COULD NOT QUITE CUT IT; how typical, why, ‘twas common knowledge that ‘dear antecedent’ had no spine. More demure than the mage had ever dared to imagine, a woman devoid of the drive & certitude a man as powerful as Louisoix possessed. To think he would assign a mere GIRL his post seemed inane / yet here they were; cornered, back to the wall. Rarely did she retreat to the Walking Sands; demands were oft ignored or answered rather absentmindedly. Why, she worked best whenever left on own devices, reporting once at the end of the week only to submerge briskly after. Dwelling here felt akin to vile pressure set onto her chest; suffocating, a lack of freedom she has long learned to dread, walls closing in / to be reminiscent of a certain cave never put her in the brightest mood to begin with. && to be called back to DISCUSS latest endeavors, oh … what was left to be discussed? 

     ❛ Pray, if a whim of mine yields desirable results, I see no reason to not pursue it. ❜ 'twas a clean-cut reply, a single flick of prominent ears given as if to signalize unyielding stance on the matter. – the antecedent could not even meet her glare; naturally, for own expressions held no cordiality. Glowering glare, lips pressed into a thin line; aye, observant as ever, a single hand set against her chin in silent contemplation. Young she might be, yet more ERUDITE & DILIGENT than any of them. Friendship, pah, as if a mindset like this would ever come to yield the very respect that an organisation such as the reformed SCIONS direly needed. They, who currently did naught but cower under the scrutinizing gander of Eorzea’s fractured alliance. – indeed, be firm with her or do not bother at all. Such was ‘cultured conjurer’s’ way / her nature / why, she was an inured creature.

     Seconds pass in which she does not continue, words stuck at the back of her throat. – mayhap one was waiting for a respond, a sign of other’s ire / some sentiment other than antecedent’s striking malaise / some form of scolding for speaking out of turn / a tirade there to smite own ever present ego. – nay, old master’s strict demeanor was lost on someone of Warde’s kind; a woman so eager to please it seemed almost FORCED; a mask donned & worn to not stub any toes: kill them with kindness, hold out the other cheek, bla, bla – such excruciating docility evoked naught but festering detest. 

     Nay, if that was how scion’s future leader chose to confront her, one would certainly rather break every bone in juvenile body than listening to a single command. Who was SHE to judge own approaches? Mannerisms shaped by an archon so much more renowned than some forlorn miner from Ul’dah could ever hope to be? Arms drop out of prior fold, stoic expressions hardening with each spoken syllable; be stern with a conjurer of her kind / a woman shaped by Matoya’s very hand. – oh so FUELED by a frigid kind of wrath, teal glance narrowed to slits beneath a creased brow. Be stern or adapt to rawest spite.  ❛ Mayhap your precious rules and regulations are more for people made of softer stuff. ‘twould seem foolish to challenge the expertise of someone who truly engages in field duties when but holed up in an office all day. – perhaps a few steps in the sun will fix that dreadful naivety, why, I recommend it. ❜

[catleha]

Teeth are grinding together, palms clasping over her ears in a pained manner. "It's... So bright..." she whispered quietly, knees colliding with the ground below. "How do you do it? I... I can't-...!"

     ‹  WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WISH TO DO; ‘twas a question oft asked / internally, whilst remaining hidden in the coves of the Greatwood, as if idle thoughts & racing ideas could deliver the very answer one oftentimes sought. Aye, to seek some wicked kind of redemption [for what, I wonder], despite being considered too rough,always too reckless, too socially inapt, they say. Oh, what had happened eons ago became dire reality whenever SHE was around. All the words never said / promises never kept & affection never shown to people that perhaps cared too deeply. –  remember, remember: Minfilia residing inside their study, seated in front of a naive LOUD MOUTHED fool, trying her utmost to talk some sense into this stubborn teen. Blunt, because she had never learned respect / harsh, because she had never learned softness; marked by the very woman that had failed so tremendously at raising her. By all means callous, such an avid lover of TOUGH LOVE. Aye, the kind a mother PATRON never ought to possess. 

     Cue a sigh, single hand set against young other’s very temple / ‘twas a routine the witch once wished to avoid which had, however, become a daily occurrence. This was a child burdened by something she had never learned to control. A higher force, a purpose given to her without consent [she never asked for it / ah, neither did I]: the cost had been high. && in one’s recognition, this gnarly sentiment of guilt & bitter ache so eager to twist her stomach into knots, the sage had begun to focus upon STABILIZATION rather than suppressing what even her advanced magic could hardly quench. – indeed, the aether coursing through this Minfilia’s veins was raw & untamed; unbearably similar to her very own, this throbbing mess of seething white carefully contained within own dark clad frame – aye, recall your arguments back in a realm so far gone. You but a ruthless thing / freshly cut off master’s very hand; pushed into this blinding world, suddenly independent, suddenly an archon supposed to listen to this GIRL & do their bidding.

       ‘ if I had but known where out paths will lead, I would have been more gentle / more understanding / helpful / kind.

     ‹  ❛ one day, you will. ❜ spoken words left her lips in a tone so much more coarse than desired; her voice twisted in some form of suppressed grief. The fiery kind, coated in this typically calm & collected shell. Ah, chiding, more like. Perhaps a form of tough love that the old matron had been oh so fond of.Fitting, now that the witch bore foster mother’s name. -- ‘Would that I could tell you how’. Alas, own training had been dolorous & hardly planned. The kind  that had given birth to many scars earned in one’s quest to PROTECT & ignore own health’s merry descent. Pray, do you even know how to control the ebb & flow of this earth’s strange memories, the very twitch in every once gentle [now unbearable] gush of wind? The clamor of a thousand drifting souls trapped between the life stream & the First? Oh, in Eorzea, one had never been exposed to THAT much. Mayhaps it had made the process more bearable / learning how to see again / how to cope / to trade color & shapes for angst & obscurity. There, lips curl ever so slightly, stern mien ironically mellowing under the weight of own, dire thoughts. – you mustn’t falter; she ought to say. To encourage, to ensure. To merely BE SOFT / aye, Minfilia deserves such warmth, does she not? Twelve know you have been cold for far too long, brittle, oh so eager to repel those that had wanted naught more than KINSHIP [why I am a creature of mistrust / of solitude / of own volition]. 

    ❛ 'tis grim but true. Moreso requires time, aye, and personal sacrifice no less. ❜ Minfilia’s aether stung; 'twas unyielding & unique enough to coerce own heart to hammer like a kettledrum [steady, steady. ‘tis but another cure, another medica, another benediction cast]. To stabilize poor other meant to burn the skin & singe own fur / an additional strain which she selflessly shouldered. Nobody saw the turmoil within, after all, & it was best kept that way. There, upon standing up, she drew the other to her feet. – watch the witch gesture to her chair [a faint glimmer in own aetherical sight], prompted fatigue too much to be borne standing. 

    ❛ I learned through rather onerous means. I would prefer to spare you of such. -- Have courage, and you shall see i through. ❜ She sits down, briskly blinking as if a single flutter could calm dwelling ache. – cue the spark of a withheld memory, condemned tears shed & blighting anger kept locked behind bared teeth. Remember, remember: the Minfilia you buried, mourning in solitude whilst the rest of the scions stood together. Be reminiscent of the pang in your chest, the feeling of emptiness spreading, only to fester. To herald the beginning of something deemed naught but horrid: to know that, in the end, she had felt a connection / why oh why, you failed them all. 

     Silence etched on, seconds passing whilst one merely pondered; what to do, how to progress – jaw set, softened expressions hardening ever so slightly. She required to further plan, to find a way to protect this girl [not her, not the woman you faced in the studies each day] as promised / as sworn. Aye, an enormous task / a riddle best solved when surrounded by shadows. – there, a click of the tongue, a wave of the hand; deny the dullness of senses sinking in. Deny the sentiment of self-loathe nestling in your chest. Nay, you need time, the time this girl might not have. Lo, blind eyes do not try to find her; nay, she glares, gaze fixated upon rows of books & parchment.  ❛ ‘twould be wise to rest. Mayhaps read. – go. Pray bother Urianger while you at it.  ❜

     why, you are but a creature of solitude, indeed.

[catleha]

"Pray return to the Walking Sands immediately."

       ‹  THE WORD ‘IMMEDIATELY’ HELD A CERTAIN URGENCY;there, a moment of contemplation / finger tip tapping again the temple. Cue a pause; why yes, she had heard the infamous tales of 'returning' for no particular reason other than moving a condemned crate from a to b. Nay, she would have none of it. 'twas way to comfortable here in the outskirts of Limsa Lominsa midst drunken pirates & other particularly lousy folk. -- lo, a flick of her tail / a twitch of feline ears; finger against the linkpearl.  ❛  no.  ❜

[catleha]

    ‹  THE BRIGHT MORNING SUN HAD LAID HEAVY ON HER CROWN; warmth creeping its way up her spine ‘till discomfort had won & tainted her very mood. Aye, deem this the start of a new life / torn out of warden’s cave & cast into whatever fangs fate had chosen now. Color her quite chagrined. -- patron & prodigy’s goodbye had been quite the struggle, triggered by a plain fact: she did not wish to go [never a choice]. Thus, words spat in utter displeasure had been all that had resounded in Master’s study a fortnight ago. Deem her obstinate & mulish; o, why would one be eager to leave behind what has been her SHELTER for a mere decade? To venture forth & into the wilds, never to be seen again? Passed from one guardian to the next, once more, aye a brash child carrying the most inane of fantasies crammed close to an aching heart [illusions of a mother, father / by the twelve, was she so undeserving?]. A mere adolescent, who had found comfort resting between ancient tomes, bewitched frogs & tattered broomsticks. -- alas, Matoya had decided it was time to depart / there was nothing one could learn anymore; o, insolent child, do you not comprehend the value of Master Louisoix’ offer? 

      Ever silent; teal eyes set onto moving wagons; bristling birds & tumbling entities; goods showed from one corner of the hall to another. She counted books & stacks of paper, wary glare cast far & further still / lost in thought, chin set onto an open palm. Do not glance at latest company; some hyur introduced to her as Minfilia Warde [a member of the circle of knowing, just like you]. It mattered little; aye, one wished to return. To flee, rush back into patron’s embrace. -- fool, you are not a toddler anymore / mayhap 'twould be wise to act your age.  @hyethla ./ SC.