#remembered that self deprecation helps no one. this ABSOLUTE BANGER

[fistsoflightning]

01 | TAKE THE WHEEL

ffxivwrite2024 01: STEER to control the course of; to be subject to steering

desperate times call for desperate measures. atalanta & a monster. 1390 wc.

It took her a small eternity to work out how to open her eyes, mostly because she couldn't remember how the muscles in her face were connected or how many eyes she had to begin with. Or eyelids. She was used to having transparent ones, not this—solid nonsense that left you vulnerable. How useless. And when she finally got them open she couldn't even tell she had managed it for several minutes because these eyes were no better than a nychterida's. It looked just as dark as when she had her eyes closed, black as death and no less cold. The only reason she could tell she was in a cavern was the roughness of the stone beneath her hands, the curve of the wall pressing into her back. Everything in her burned and ached the longer she stared into it.

She was alive. Returned to the land of the living after so long.

Then she realized what must have brought her here and a much sharper feeling started to bubble in her blood.

"You little coward," she roared, an awful ache in her throat revealing itself as she did. What came from her mouth barely sounded like words. Forget that. Forget everything she'd thought before. None of that pissed her off more than Them. She tried to leave, to claw deep down inside her—inside Their body and rip until They were forced to wake up, to take it back, take it all back, but in her fury she lost control. Every muscle spasmed. Ligaments groaned. It was only when something snapped that she grit Their teeth and stopped herself before anything more permanent occurred. The satisfaction wasn't worth the retribution she'd earn—though, if she did it right, ruined just enough…

"Alright, monster, listen close."

She froze at the sound of Their voice accompanied by a flickering light, confused and afraid. By this point she'd tipped Their body over from its seat by the wall, cheek pressed to cold and damp cave-floor as blood dribbled from the mouth, and a terrible feeling came over her; she'd been tricked, she'd been lured out to slaughter, she was in a different body and They were in the shadows ready to be free of her for good.

But Their voice came again, in perfect time with the light, and she heard it: fear.

"Don't go getting any clever ideas. You're only here because I let you," They said, and there—a tremble, a pause for a deep breath. That was a thing They did to stay calm, wasn't it? She copied them, a slow in-out-in-out through Their mouth, and most of the burning feeling everywhere dissipated, which was strange. "And before you start tearing me apart, you're not here for anything but to sit here. Right here. Get back up, you melon, before you get me ill from all the… cave dirt. Or what have you."

In a stubborn fit, she tried to stay still, but something in her coiled tighter the longer she laid on the floor. Maybe it was already too late to not be infected, or some manner of spell to compel her. Either way, she got up.

As she did, clumsily bending one arm to brush the sharp pebbles off Their face, she saw it—she saw Their sword, glowing to the rhythm of Their voice. It had been stabbed into the floor clumsily, at an angle that threatened to tip over the longer it remained that way. But it stood, and if she focused, she could clench Their hands and feel the exact way the sword's handle would fit.

"In the interest of curbing any rebellion, I might as well explain what you missed."

She groaned. "Just because I reside within you doesn't make me blind," she said. "I know already, you—"

But They couldn't hear them, or at least Their spellwork couldn't. "In the process of aiding Azem with this week's disaster, there was an earthquake. Or a landslide? Can't seem to recall the word. Either or works for you, I suppose. I got caught, and then—I was. Here." Pause. "I think I fell through somewhere I wasn't supposed to. They warned us—the village. To create, they convert aether from the abundance of crystals grown underground, instead of putting their own aether into the already-dense aetheric atmosphere of their home. They said they were trying not to give the wildlife anything more to gorge on. Creative of them. Wish I could manage even that."

"Haven't you done enough?" she grumbled. Not only had she been unceremoniously dragged here, but now she was forced to listen to more of their moping? Was it not enough that she had already personalized her own little space in hell? "I'm sitting right here."

Pause. Pause.

"I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. For the rambling and what I've done."

She blinked. Once, then twice. That was… new. Her memory was blurred, terribly so, but in all her time she couldn't ever recall anyone knowing of her and apologizing.

Their words started gaining speed. "If I were better, maybe you wouldn't be stuck down here in the dark with me. Just my luck I fell into one of the emptied caverns. It's so dark. I can't think here. So in a desperate act, I forced this on you. To think. I'll come back when I've got something. All you need to do is stay here and—not break anything. Please. I'll make it up to you, find anything you want, get your revenge twice over, just—" Deep breaths. She could feel the last remants of Their panic still running through Their blood. "Don't make me come back until I'm ready."

She watched the sword carefully as the last few sparks of aether conveying Their voice guttered out and left her in the dark for good. It was still there, a short distance from where They had abandoned their body in cowardice.

But she knew that fear intimately, didn't she. Some amount of satisfaction rose in her knowing that They were no stronger against it than she was.

And—They were sorry.

Careful of the thing in Their back she had pulled too hard earlier, she got up from her seat and stumbled over to the sword. There was no telling in the void-black darkness where the handle met the blade, and she misplaced Their hands, but it did not cut. She smiled when she finally set Their hands in the correct place, the barely-there callouses feeling at home on the grip. Her approximation of a smile must have looked strange—all teeth and pulled too tight, but who was here to see? What mattered was that it felt good.

"My turn to talk, abomination. And I know you can hear me," she growled, though she tried hard not to ruin anything this time. Who was she to ruin what she'd been offered? "You're as much a fool as the rest if you believe I'd just sit here in the dark until you come to collect. And couldn't you have thought to ask my opinion with all your intelligence, instead of so rudely dragging me out?" She paused. "Though I have to admire your cleverness. Your body is a mess, but I've not had one in an age. What a wonder it is to feel. We should do this more often."

Her old senses were rusted, but having to listen to Them talk had given them time to line up alongside Their senses. The dark remained as it was, but the body had other ways to discern its surroundings, and They had given her a clue. If she were any other being, it would have been useless. But she had spent countless years in a 'dense aetheric atmosphere' and could tell apart ambient from living by smell alone; there was at least one thing underground with her, and if she could find it, make it afraid, make it want nothing more than to escape her, then maybe it would run to the surface. Leave a path to follow.

Better than than to sit here. She pried the sword from its resting place and hefted it onto her shoulders.

"I've no desire to be trapped down here any more than you do," she said, "so let's get out of here, 'Atalanta'."