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styrnraelmalqir · 1 year ago

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Uncharted Waters

Chapters 1-3 of a little thing I’m working on about Styrnrael’s parents! Hoping to continue this soon and maybe even post it on AO3!

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The young cartographer’s fingers gently brushed the cover of a sun-bleached book. Inside its pages, she found several descriptions of the villages she knew well – all written by someone who had only traveled through the vast plains of the Azim Steppe for only a few days. The Namazu working at the bookseller’s booth that day looked sheepishly at the Au Ri woman who lingered. “May I help you?” He asked politely, as if to hurry her along.

“Oh no, you cannot help me. All the maps in this book are,” her voice trailed off.

“Yes-yes?” Gyocho half-heartedly pressed his fins together inquisitively.

“They’re all wrong. Every one of them.” She closed the book.

“Very well.” His voice was heavy with disappointment. He tried another tactic. “We have other wares available. This book about Ul’dah has been quite popular of late – full to the brim with resources for selling and making a profit. You could be rich--”

Before he could finish, the Au Ri woman slammed a handful of gil onto the stall, loud enough to alert some of the Qestiri who were guarding the market in Reunion. “No, I’ll buy this one with the maps.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon picking the book apart, crossing out inaccuracies. At times she laughed out loud to no one in particular.

“I’d like to buy this one.” Sarangerel called out to the Namazu at the end of the week. Seven-hundred seventy-seven blessings that his schedule once again coincided with this tenacious young woman’s. Though he was surprised at her selection – a common, plain, blank notebook bound in dzo leather with subpar bindings and thin parchment – he did not refuse her payment of 714 gil. She left before he could say, “Yes-yes.”

Sarangerel and the others who lived in Malqir Iloh, had moved with the seasons along The One River or Yat Khal. Much like their cousins, the Mol to the north, the Malqir lived in a kind of peace and tranquility. This was all afforded by a glamour prism nested in the river’s rocky bed.

Although hidden, they could come and go as they pleased, but many decided to spend their entire lives along the banks of Yat Khal. Though she was most likely to become the next leader of Malqir Iloh, Sarangerel’s true passion was in the creation of maps. The completion of which would require travel well beyond the Steppe. This was something her mother was becoming increasingly aware of as Sarangerel started to trek further and further away.

West of Reunion, toward the Tail Mountains that encircled parts of the northern Steppe, Sarangerel searched the horizon on horseback. The landscape transformed the higher she ascended. The stones were larger, their jagged edges reaching higher toward the summit. Colorful flags danced in the winds surrounding a base camp composed of many different Au Ra families. Her horse was tired from the long trek of the day and she led it to water as she silently watched the others. Some were traders, making their way home after visiting the market town below, but most were travelers—adventurers from beyond the inland grasslands. One among the caravan approached her. A handsome Viera man ten summers her senior approached her with an offering of fruit. He used a small blade to cut a piece for her and another for her horse. She returned the gesture with a nod.

“Where are you headed?” He asked, his eyes fixated on her as she gently brushed the black mane of her horse.

“Just a little further.” She answered, suddenly remembering to keep her guard up. She continued walking past the Viera and did not turn around as she waved. “Thank you for the fruit.”

The sun was low in the sky as she reached a trail where stones were stacked like mountains leading up to a tall peak. She took a few flat stones with her as well, determined to start a new mound, perhaps somewhere no one had stepped before. She tied the lead of her horse to a boulder and continued down the narrow path.

The sky was a deep blue as the sun hushed out the last breath of the day. Yet it was just enough light for her to look below and see a glimpse of the sea below her. She stood upon a rock and took out a spyglass. From this point, she could almost see the Bay of Yanxia. There were dark mists in the furthest distance she could see. Names she had only read about – the Knowing Sea, and further on to the Ryakgyr Peninsula, suddenly became shapes in the glass. She sketched quickly. As the last light left the clouds, she stacked the flat stones on the ridge and made her descent, returning to the adventurer’s camp.

She listened to the stories the travelers shared. Her attention sometimes turned to the stars glimmering above the mountain as she warmed herself by the fire. Covered in a heavy wool, she and her horse waited until the sun rose again to make their return to Malqir Iloh.

Chapter 2

“Seek it out!” Maral exclaimed and her cane clicked on the slate floor.

“Is it alright to leave in winter? Will you need the extra hands around here?” Sarangerel said this only halfheartedly, as she was already packing a satchel across the table from her mother.

“Of course, dear! I have things well at hand here.” Maral walked closer to the table and took a seat. “Besides, you will return by the next Tsagaan Sar!”

With this, Sarangerel was silent. Maral took notice of this response or lack there-of.

“Will you not?” Maral asked another way.

“No.” Sarangerel said plainly and closed her book. She looked directly at Maral, her expression a mixture of uncertainty and of an untold anger. “The books are wrong about the Steppe. I think they might be wrong about everything.”

“And so you must find out for yourself the truth of it all. You will not just disprove them, you will make new maps unlike any other.”

They were silent for some time as Sarangerel looked through the other parchments and papers scattered on the table. Some she rolled up and placed in the satchel. Others, she just shook her head at. She smiled at an illustrated guide of the Ruby Sea, which included descriptions of the Kojin and their customs.

“I only ask that you be cautious and make intelligent choices. That you know the consequences of your actions and that you return to us with new knowledge in exchange.”

“You are so eager to see me go.”

“Not at all, my dear. I only know that there will never be another who can best me at a game of Kharaqiq and instead of taking the chief position for herself, choose to seek out her fortune on a much greater game board.”

Sarangerel frowned deeply as her eyes welled with tears. She held her mother closely. Their arms locked around each other for some time. Before another bell passed, Sarangerel got herself ready to leave that night. Under the cover of the moon in winter, she was less likely to be seized by raiders on her way past Reunion, keeping her safe beyond the Steppe, toward the tides of the Ruby Sea.

Chapter 3

“Sarangerel,” She said, tipping her head slightly toward the deck of the ship. She slowly lifted her jewel-toned eyes toward the crew.

“Very pleased to meet you.” Maduin, a Roegadyn of eight and twenty stepped closer to her. “I am the chief navigator and pilot. Your maps have already served us well.”

She pursed her lips together into a proud smile.

“Set sail!” A booming voice cut off the formalities. His order cracked through the deck like a thunderclap and broke the stillness of the water. Every person aboard the ship struck into action – dashing from one station to the next. Arms buckled under the weight of heavy trunks of cannonballs and gunpowder. The voice came from an older Roegadyn man at the helm of the ship. His gray hair was tied back with colorful bandanas woven into rows of braided hair. His eyes were a fierce cobalt blue, the same color of the choppy waves beneath him.

The rowdy crew cheered their agreement and began to hoist the sails and lift up the heavy ropes from the sea. Sarangerel followed suit and joined the navigator who was climbing the stairs to the top deck. On a fine wooden stand near the helm, Maduin and Sarangerel searched the horizon. The captain beside them kept one of his strong arms steady on the wheel of the ship. The wind carried them out to the open waters.

The ship was modestly sized, with only one mast and a cargo hull fitted just for day trips only. The small size was made up for with its unmatched speed – particularly in pursuit of imperial vessels twice or three times its size. This was all-too apparent when the sails carried the ship further away from the harbor. A bell passed and they no longer could see the dock, or the land attached to it. It was then that the navigator and cartographer entered the captain’s chambers and set to work.

“Sarangerel, was it?” The navigator smiled up from the papers spread out around the quarters.

“Yes?” She responded but did return his glance.

“I never told you my name!” Soft lines around his eyes crinkled toward his brows.

“It’s Maduin, is it not?”

“Yes, my name is Maduin.” The Roegadyn man felt disarmed, and his eyes slowly pointed toward the map on the table. He desperately wanted to fill the silence and continue learning about the intriguing cartographer before him. The planks of the floor creaked as the ship crossed a wave.

“Was there something else you wanted to say?” Sarangerel still did not look up from her map.

“I was going to ask – where are you from?” He hesitated, but his determination to know her better never wavered. A few strands of his dark teal hair loosened and fell across his forehead. He brushed them back behind one ear and noticed she had finally looked up at him, if only for a moment. A sudden warmth touched the tips of his tan cheeks, dimpled by his widening smile. He was nothing if not persistent.

“Here.” She noted, pointing to a sketch of rounded yurts punctuating the Azim Steppe on her hand-drawn map of Othard.

The question of where had piqued her interest, but she did not elaborate. Many of the other crew members carried on with their tall tales or sang jovially. There was almost no quiet, especially when they were underway and out to sea. Her curtness was almost refreshing, and most certainly unexpected.

The cabin rocked and swayed as the sails carried them further away from the coastline. The two of them continued their work in a comfortable quiet. Occasionally, Sarangerel found herself looking up from the maps to think. Maduin would carefully steal a glance at her. Though he had seen many other Au Ri, particularly fellow crew members hailing from Raen settlements, her visage was unlike anyone he had seen before. Her azure skin was covered in indigo scales that ran up her arms, neck, and framing her face. Her hair was a delicate silver that looked like a river illuminated by the moon, the tresses of which just hit below her shoulders. Her beauty was difficult to miss and proved to be a challenge to ignore.

It did not escape Sarangerel’s notice that Maduin was staring at her as often as he was staring at the map. At first, she was annoyed. Her expression softened once she realized how patient he was with the coordinates. She could see him carefully studying her survey of the Ruby Tide. She hoped he could see the care she took to detail the surrounding islands. Traveling between each of them had taken nearly six moons and she felt proud of her work. Once she knew he was going to take her maps seriously, she finally felt at ease in the close quarters of the chamber.

“Your maps are remarkable, Sarangerel. I believe this course you have charted will be best suited for a swift return to Onokoro.” He glanced at her again, but this time she was ready to meet his gaze. A bead of sweat gathered on her temples; she thought it must have been the warmth of the afternoon sun trapped inside the room.

Finally, Sarangerel reached toward Maduin, close enough to embrace him, but then extended her arm past him to pick up a map behind him. “This is the one we need to look at before we travel further north.”

He didn’t realize his mouth had opened as she approached, but he quickly closed it before letting out a sigh. Something that felt like relief and disappointment erupted in his chest as he glanced at the map she had started to unroll. She placed four weighty inkwells at each corner of the map so it could lay flat and smoothed her fingers over the heavy cloth. “The nautical charts from Koshu are not accurate.”

“We are frequently in these waters and have never taken another route. There is no other route.” He gestured toward her, surrendering to his curiosity and confusion. “Is there?”

“The Kojin of the Blue would say otherwise. Besides, it’s well known that no information leaves Koshu unless it is certified by Bukyo. Anyone claiming to have a map from Koshu is either smuggling information or simply making it up. And I’m more inclined to believe the latter.” Sarangerel tapped her chin as she theorized.

“So, this map is from the Kojin? How can we be sure they are to be trusted? The Red will attack us on sight. The Blue are not so different.”

“They can be trusted because I have sailed this myself. I’ve seen where this leads and I’ve added my own notes to it.”

He seriously considered the consequences of a new course while staring into the chart.

“Do you trust me?” She turned toward him and extended an open palm.

“I don’t have any reason to doubt you.” He closed his fingers around hers and shook her hand.

They were still for a moment, holding each other’s hands. The light from the sea and the sky danced across the room, filling the ceiling with bright reflections of waves. Suddenly the ship turned over another wave, shifting their hands apart as they struggled to regain their balance. The pilot then adjusted the rudder and climbed the stairs to the helm of the ship where he explained to the captain the plan to take the Kojin of the Blue route.

Sarangerel could see the captain’s arms swing around Maduin in approval. He chuckled loudly as he spun the ship’s wheel.

The trip took 3 bells shorter than their normal route – and was far less treacherous overall. Their target was a small fleet of smugglers who had stolen from the neighboring village of Isari. The smugglers proved to be no match for those employed under the banner of the Ruby Tide. Not only was the cargo recovered, but the smugglers soon found themselves marooned without their ships. With Sarangerel’s map, they had come out of the scuffle unscathed, and far richer for it.

After returning their stolen goods, the fishermen of Isari shared nearly half of it to the privateers they had hired to steal it back. Once Maduin, Sarangerel, and the rest of the crew had returned to Crick, on the island of Onokoro, they began to remove trunk after trunk of the bounty collected from the day’s work.

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #ffxiv au ra #ffxiv roegadyn #rasho ffxiv #styrnrael malqir #styrnrael #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv fanfic #pirates #it's definitely not pirates

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thevikingwoman · 9 months ago

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Tansui is looking for some peace to think on the letters Meryta sends him from the First, but is interrupted by Rasho who offers friendly companionship and asks too many questions. Companion to Letters and Longing, but can be read alone

Fandom: FFXIV | Words: 1651 | Read on Ao3

Rasho & Tansui | mid-Shadowbringers | friendship Rating: Teen. Pining, unresolved feelings, friendship, alcohol, drunkenness

Sake and Truths

Tansui climbs his way up the stairs to the outpost, abandoned as it is, they do not post guards here at most times. But the view is nice, and the grass is soft and no one tends to come here unless sent by the Captain. It’s a good place to think.

He drops himself into the grass, round bottle beside him, and takes out the letters from where he’s tucked them in his hakama. He did not bother with a cup. He reads. Meryta is impossibly far away, facing horrors he cannot imagine. Something aches in his chest with it. A familiar feeling, along with others he’d rather not think about.

He drinks, the rich taste coating his tongue, a burn down his throat. Takes out pen and parchment, but he does not write, electing to pick up her letters again. Only a few, but the latest one is longer, the writing more fluid. Perhaps she has never written much before, but she does now.

The bottle of sake goes to his lips again, rich and too fine to be drunk like this, dripping down his chin to wipe off, but he does not know what to do with his latest realization, the feelings that only grow when he thinks of her. He drinks, wipes, closes his eyes, turning his face towards the setting sun.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Rasho. The roegadyn sits next to him, fabric shuffling against skin and grass. It’s quiet up here.

“Did it occur to you I came here to be alone?”

“Yes.”

Tansui opens his eyes and turns to his friend. Rasho has brought another bottle of sake and two cups. He’s pouring sake into one, the other left in grass. Tansui had not bothered with a cup himself after all, and Rasho is not one to insist.

“It’s a nice one,” Rasho says. “Export bound for Ishgard, by my understanding. Good thing the captain needed to lighten his ballast.”

“How fortunate indeed.”

Tansui lifts his own flask, and takes a deep drink. Rasho lifts his cup and drinks with him. They sit, and drink, in silence for some time, the sun slipping lower towards the ocean and their shadows growing long.

“So,” his friend says. “Writing letters?”

It’s a question, and fair enough. He has no family to correspond with, and any letters related to their newfound diplomatic relations with Doma must go through the Captain.

He nods, unwilling to break the silence just yet. It’s not like he’s started writing yet. He doesn’t have much to say, other than perhaps wax poetic about the quality of the sake, and implore her to stay safe. To come visit, again, but it feels like refrain. He knows she may not be able to, but – how many times can he ask?

“Meryta, is it?”

He nods again, squinting at Rasho. He wonders if he can let him carry the conversation all on his own. Rasho drinks for his cup, almost comically tiny in his large hands. Just for the taste of it, Tansui knows.

“It has been a while since she has visited.” Rasho looks at the folded papers still in his hands. “You care for her, do you not?”

“I do.”

What does his friend want him to say? That he misses her, and that every time the aetheryte hums with incoming travelers, his heart leaps in his chest like he is some kind of lovesick youngster?

“And yet you wait for her here, while she’s off doing what she does, without you.”

“What would you have me do? I –” He feels hot and angry, his voice raised, “she is – somewhere, outside this world, and I’m – I belong here Rasho, never mistake that.”

“Peace, friend. I know. That wasn’t my point.”

He’s ashamed, immediately. He knows Rasho does not doubt his loyalty, same as he doesn’t doubt Rasho. Doma freed and all, the Captain stays here. As does he.

“I’m sorry.” Tansui takes another drink and flings himself backwards on the grass, his head a bit heavy from the sake now. “She’s out there, in danger, doing Kami knows what with her friends.”

Rasho waves his apology away.

“It bothers you.”

Trust Rasho to say the obvious, so he doesn’t deign a reply. There’s something else that bothers him besides the danger she’s in, an uncertainty in waiting which he barely wants to name.

“Have you at least told her, how much you care?”

“No.” He grabs his bottle and drinks the last of it, while still laying down, the rich liquid filling his mouth and burning its way down to his belly. The grass is soft and pleasant. He has written of his wish to see her again, and she likewise, but nothing certain. No promises, and it grates him more than it should.

“I don’t know if she feels the same,” he admits. It sounds sullen to his own ears.

“Have you asked?” Rasho pours himself another cup from his own bottle, only the third. “Mayhap you’d be less bothered if you did.”

“Or mayhap I should care less.”

“You should make up your mind. And talk to her.” Rasho lifts his cup and drinks. “What do you want, my friend?”

“I – I want… Well, it’s not like I need –”

Rasho doesn’t say anything when he falters.

I would be simpler if he didn’t care, but he’s not sure not caring is what he wants. It would be easier if it was. To let go of these feelings he can barely admit to anyway. To simply have her come or not come, no use for worrying. No use in trying to determine if she’s with someone else, if someone else is touching her.

Perhaps he should just find someone else to fuck, someone to have a good time with. He finds he has no taste for it, the idea wholly unappealing. And the idea of her being touched by someone else sets a fire burning inside of him. He wants to keep her for himself. Selfish and frustrating, she isn’t here, not even on this world, and he should be content to wait and not expect her to adhere to promises not made. And yet her letters make it seem like she – he wishes he didn’t care, that she didn’t occupy his thoughts like this.

But she does.

A silence settles over them, and Rasho says nothing when he sits up again and grabs Rasho’s bottle and drinks and drinks again.

He’ll write letters and see what happens. She’s – just trouble anyways, and he’s never been one to pursue a permanent relationship anyways. It’s fine to keep it casual. Fine.

“I shouldn’t – I should just – ’s fine really. It’s just casual, you know. I don’t need to – care that much.”

“If you say so.”

“It’s late,” he says, and stands slowly. He’ll write another day, it’s too dark and he’s not even sure where the pen went.

Rasho stands with him.

His head is fuzzy by now, swimming. The stars are out. Rasho picks up the letters gently, with a care he’s grateful for. He’s unsteady as he gets up, but it’s fine.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

Rasho gently catches him, when he stumbles on something – who put that there – a stupid rock.

“You’ll break your neck on the stairs.”

“Will not.”

He may not be making his case well, as he’s still holding on to the other man. Rasho sighs, and turns his eyes towards the starry sky.

“Look, Tansui. Either I’ll pick you up and carry you like petulant child –”

“’m older than you –”

“You certainly are. Either I’ll pick you up, or you can ride on my back.”

Tansui lets go of Rasho and sways. The sake was rather strong, or there was a lot of it. He sighs, and lets himself be hoisted on his friends back.

Rasho walks carefully down the stairs, and continues across the sand towards Onokoro proper. Tansui’s head is swimming. He’s not been in such a state – he’s propelled back in time, to when they were both younger and foolisher, but Rasho never had a taste for excess. Rasho would carry him back from Isari, just like this, when Tansui had overin– had drunk too much. He’s too old for this, now, and all over a pretty girl with pretty purple eyes and green hair and so fierce and so soft and the world’s not fair to her –

The world swims when Rasho makes it up the stairs. He should protest, he should walk, in front of the men, but the Rasho doesn’t care, and he’s lost in thought again, the last time she was here, in his arms –

“— she’s just so nice.”

“So you’ve mentioned, friend.”

“But it’s not –”

The torches are awfully bright and he pauses and squints. Rasho says nothing.

His thoughts wander again, and he feels he needs to let Rasho know, he’s decided that he won’t need to care. Did he already say so? Her eyes would be luminous in the dark here, brilliant band of purple like nothing else. Right. Casual things, casual visits.

“Is not going to be…. I’ll just enjoy her visiting, you see. Enjoy a lot.”

“I see.”

He is quite certain from Rasho’s tone that he doesn’t. They’re by his door now, and the other man pushes it open, and carry him all the way to his bed. Undignified. He tries to stand, but fails, and puts his head on his pillow instead. It doesn’t smell like her.

“It’s nothing really. She’s just very – I think I love her.”

“Ah. There it is.”

“You knew,” he accuses.

“I’ve known you a long time.”

“You’re a good friend.”

Tansui awkwardly pats Rasho’s knee, the tall man looming over him.

“Sleep, and it’s good thing I am, or I’d not let you shirk your duties tomorrow.”

Tansui is asleep, snoring, before Rasho leaves.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfic #final fantasy 14 #ff14 fanfic #rasho & tansui #ffxiv tansui #ffxiv rasho #tansui #meryta x tansui #tansuiwol #ahh I just wanted to explore their friendship a bit #and tansui's struggle #heh #viking writes #published 3/11/2024

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