#or the gil to remake it in Kiri's apartment :V

[windup-dragoon]

Rainstorm

|| FFXIV write - 2020

|| Prompt #8 - Clamor 

|| Post ShB

|| Wol x Hien 

|| Word Count 1251

|| In reference to Rainstorm (part 1), Rainstorm (part 2), Rainstorm (part3) 

|| In which Kiri struggles between dreams and reality (( Warning:: brief mention of injury and blood ))

A dapple of sunlight fills her room while glittering dust motes hang in the stillness of morning. Gently the warmth of light touches her cheek, causing her sleeping form to stir, both from mild irritation of being disturbed and also search for the familiar warmth of sunlight to warm her bones. Piled on as she was with blankets and bedding alike, nothing seemed to sate the chill that raked her body. 

She remembers rain, heavy clouds that hung low overhead, and the icy wind that accompanied a storm. Even beneath her heavy eyelids she swears she can still feel the rain against her skin. It’s a feeling she hates but is accustomed to from days spent out at sea. Sitting idle on stormy ocean tides is impossible, lest you wish to capsize and drink deep salt water. 

Distantly she can still recall Eyri yelling over the crashing of waves and booms of thunder, pounding rain like pebbles cast from the angry sky. She yanks her blankets high over her shoulders, until even the loving caress of sunlight is dampened, plunging herself into darkness once more. 

“Mind the sails, lass!” Cried the captain. “Tie it tight like I taught’cha!” 

Squeezing shut her eyes, the tears still well and sting at the familiarity of the voice. Her aching hands, shaking as they were, fidget beneath her blankets, trying their best to tie a knot in the rope that did not exist. This wasn’t about making Eyri proud, although it would be a lie to say she hadn’t been hoping for praise; securing the line was far more important that just pride. It was the safety of the crew in her hands as the rope slipped and burned her palms. So many relied on her, not quite ready to meet their maker at the bottom of an angry sea. 

Mismatched eyes opened at last with tears tangled in her lashes, spilling down her cheek and falling to her pillow like raindrops. It had all been worth it in the end. That miserable day at sea and many others like it. Where once the sky had been sickly green and waves towered their ship, was now lilac skies and calm ocean. The storm had shrunk in the distance behind them and the road ahead now a beautiful sight to behold. 

“’Atta girl, Kiri.” 

The words, still so familiar and as warm as a million sunrises, causes more tears to fall and stain her pillow. It is the days long lost that she remembers most; days that no one will ever tear from her. The happiest years of her life, now just a distant memory, but always at the back of her mind. From gentle smiles, to boisterous shared laughter and music. The din that made her life feel full and overflowing with joy. The reason she could smile now, no matter how dark and stormy the road ahead became. 

The hush of morning is suddenly shattered with a burst of clamoring. High pitched squeals and words shouted in Doman fill her room. Something heavy falls and clatters to the floor some rooms away that has her casting aside blankets and throwing herself forward, only to suck in a sharp breath of air as pain rips through her. There is a dampness along her left side, just along her ribs that she promises to investigate later while she forces herself to her feet. 

Her room becomes familiar in her haze of exhaustion. The guest room that had been prepared for her within the Kienkan, no longer in use now that she shared a certain young lord’s bed instead. 

She is barely risen when the floorboards beneath her sway, her knees shaking beneath her weight. The room blurs and fades around her as she takes to a knee beside her now strewn futon. 

But yet she hears it. The continued clamoring in the hallway that is fast approaching. It’s hurried steps, feet thundering against the floor, running. She strives once more to rise but stops, frozen by the sight of claws tearing through the door to her room. 

The paper gives, shredded to ribbons before a small and rotund ball of fur wiggles through the freshly made hole. Bright are the eyes that stare up at her as the creature rushes her; white with tiny stripes of black and eyes of pure gold. She can hear its paws slap the floor as it sprints and flinches when nails scratch the wood in an abrupt halt inches from her hunched form. 

“You rascal!” A voice calls from the hallway, owner of the thundering footsteps that all but slide by the door. In an instant the door is thrown open and Hien, panting and marred in scratches, appears before her. “The maids will certainly have choice words with you.” His voice is near breathless but a smile dances on his lips. Hien lifts his eyes, letting his mouth fall open for a moment in surprise. “Kiri!” 

She feels as if a weight has been placed on her shoulders as the shenanigans unfold before her eyes. Aches penetrate the deepest layer of her bones and muscle, enough to make her wince in pain with every attempt to move. The pain at her side has yet to subside as well. 

Hien is quick to cross the distance between them and kneels, only scarcely aware of the small creature that busies itself with nuzzling against her arm. Hands that feel like ice touch her cheeks and gently coax her chin up until their eyes meet. He isn’t himself in this moment; instead an unfocused mess of worried expressions and stubble. She struggles to keep from falling over in her dizziness. 

“Lie back down, Kiri.” He pleads and takes her by the shoulders. “Your fever has yet to break.” She is sat back down upon her futon when the prince rushes off, more hurried steps fading down the hall as he calls out for aid. 

More sleep seems beautiful to her in that moment. Without realizing it, her eyelids had grown heavy, her body too sluggish to respond to anything besides sinking back down in her mountain of blankets and pillows. Yet this time she is not alone. She smiles as two round eyes peer down at her, a constant but comforting rumble echoing from the little tiger cub. His nose brushes her cheek before he decides to curl up beside her, tucked neatly at her uninjured side. 

“Little one... was all that noise for me?” She asks while staring up at the ceiling, fading in and out of reality. “You shouldn’t.... worry Hien like that.” A smile touches her lips. “Eyri and Lyna... will be so mad if they find out I brought you home... But I bet’cha... yer good at fishin’, yea?” She feels herself slipping again into darkness. Back to the memories of a village bathed in sunlight, that smelled of salt water and life. Her fingertips drag slowly across the cubs fur which only encourages a louder purr from the tiny creature. 

When Hien is returned, a caretaker at his side, he finds her asleep upon bloodstained blankets and the tiger cub carefully watching as they approach. He kneels beside her pillow, keeping himself out of the way while the caretaker steadily works on cleaning up her injury, threading a needle to restitch her. Gently, tenderly he drags his thumb across her feverish cheek and sighs. She’s so far away; dreaming of boats at sea and a family lost.