#she thinks zenos takes after varis and not her

[zakifairer]

Emet-Selch meets an old 'friend' from Garlemald.

(Yes, I did make a wol who is Zenos' mom. The Galvus family drama is exactly as messy as you'd think)

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

6 + 10 for the wol questions 🥺

ty gigi!! /dote 🩷

6. how does your wol feel about romance? are they a hopeless romantic, waiting for The One, or are they more casual? do they believe in soulmates?

O'ravi has some mixed feelings on it lol. In her youth she was something of a hopeless romantic, though it wasn't something she actively searched for (her priorities were more on traveling and learning every piece of music, art, and folklore she could get her hands on). She's always wanted a good, solid relationship, but she also hasn't considered it something attainable for most of her life tbh. She also just never really met anyone she had a connection with/felt attracted to (she's ace and autistic so it's a double whammy of not only are such feelings extremely rare, it's super difficult for her to identify what those feelings are when she has them ldkjfhdkjg).

Her feelings for Haurchefant had started shifting into the romantic in the time leading up to the Vault but she didn't recognize it until. Well. 🥲It was too late. She'd had a very fleeting like 3-day crush on Aymeric when she met him in ARR but after the initial 😳💕 he was just an ally/friend to her. She did eventually fall in love with Aymeric for real (in the days after the Royal Menagerie to be specific; it had been building for a while), and it tore her to shreds inside because she felt that even just being friends with him was putting his life in danger, by virtue of the death and chaos that follows her, Twelve FORBID she became romantically involved with him- in her mind, that'd be no different than going and personally shooting him dead fldgjkhfdkjgh. She didn't stop believing that until after the ENW finale, when she was finally, decisively free of her fate.

She wholeheartedly believes in soulmates, but not in the romantic sense, necessarily; her definition of it is someone who you will reunite with and love in every lifetime, regardless of the type of that love. The list of people that she considers soulmates includes Themis, Aymeric, Haurchefant, Hythlodaeus, and Emet-Selch. Zenos goes on that list too depending on the day, other days she hates him and finds him repulsive lfkjghfdjkgh. Regardless of how she feels, she fully expects to see him in every lifetime from here out, though. She has very mixed feelings about that.

10. how does your wol sleep? very light? very heavy? do they need a specific item to fall asleep, or does it take them forever? where do they prefer sleeping?

O'ravi's a very light sleeper, always has been, and she hates sleeping alone (her tribe doesn't do that, they typically prefer to share space or sleep in sort of cuddle piles if the temperature gets low enough where that's an option). When she first left home and began traveling Eorzea alone, it was a huge adjustment. She's also always been someone who dozes off for 5-10 minutes in the weirdest places (a la those pics of actors sleeping between takes in random nooks on movie sets), and now that she has fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue post-ENW, she's doing this more than ever. Catch her taking cat naps in the sun in between Dawntrail MSQ objectives 😂

After Operation Archon, she started getting nightmares on a regular basis, and this just continually got worse over time. I think she also struggles with insomnia, the intensity of which varies but was worst during Endwalker and Stormblood. Now, a year or two post-ENW, she still has these problems (and will for the rest of her life), but they're semi-manageable.

Her favorite place to sleep is cuddled up to Aymeric 🥹 she unofficially moved in with him a long time ago (sometime between Final Steps of Faith and Post-Dragonsong MSQ) and originally had her own room, but after ENW his room became her room too and it's probably the place she feels safest tbh

[pre-dt wol asks]

[heirbane]

I'm realizing I write a lot of headcanons and ideas into long drabble posts instead of just... posting them.

So, hcs regarding the royal family I've mentioned in drabbles before:

- Varis was wed to a Garlean woman of Solus' choosing. The arrangement was made when he was still a boy and Varis' father still lived. They wed at 19. (I think this is semi-canon, but don't take my word for it.)

- Varis' wife fell pregnant within a few months of their ceremony. She first bore a daughter, one that was healthy on all medical scans, but came into the world asleep and did not awaken. A small memorial for her is hidden in one of the many palace's simulated biome greenhouses. Her name is never formally announced, and the plaque memorial simply dubs her "baby Galvus".

- His wife is with child again a few moons later. This time she bears a son, but does not live long after his birth. If there is a memorial for her, Varis has never revealed it publicly.

- While husband and wife were wed just over a full year, the compounded losses severely impacted Varis. With no supportive family of his own, he is left to raise a child that he has mixed, complicated feelings for. As a result, he doesn't raise Zenos much at all.

- Gaius, who lost his parents within a similar time frame as a child, does what he is able when he is in Garlemald. He has been afoot as Midas and his partner raise Cid, a boy a few years Zenos's senior, and is beginning to see the fallout of Garlemald's heavy-handed colonialism abroad. But he, too, is unwed, inexperienced, and emotionally stunted, as many, many men of Garlemald are. To care for his chosen brother and his chosen brother's colicy child is not something he knows how to do.

- So he doesn't. Zenos's physical care is handed over to wet nurses and tutors, and Varis is left to claw himself out of the chasm of his loss. By the time he does, he is not wholly the same man he was when he entered it, and the stage for what we know as Emperor Varis is set soon after.

[dragoon-mid-jump]

I have a new epiphany regarding the extent of how Y'dehlya feels about Zenos by the very end of EW.

The TL;DR of it is that Y'dehlya is much more fixated in upending the system that created Zenos much more than Zenos himself and only agrees to fight him in the wake of defeating the Endsinger because she believes that if she doesn't, his soul will come back like this.

Full musings under cut:

Yes, he's the crown prince of the empire she swore to dismantle for what it's done to her family, her friends and comrades, and a vast majority of the world she knows. Hell, she even swore to Varis himself at Ghimlyt Dark that she would see his Empire crumble. But Zenos literally did not give a rat's ass about his own homeland in any way, shape, or form. Technically, she did see the Empire dismantled by way of being the reason Zenos stopped the Black Rose Project by killing Varis while she was in the First dealing with the Flood of Light and trying to get all the Scions home, but in a twisted personal single-minded fascination way. And his refusal to take the throne created a power vacuum and civil war that ravaged the country and its people. Kinda like cutting a hydra's head and two more sprouting from the stump. Y'dehlya thinks of this as a cruel form of Equivalent Exchange.

If it weren't for her experiences traveling back to Unsundered Times and diving into the aetherial sea via the Aitiascope; learning about the concept of a soul having memories imprinted into them, and encountering souls that have yet to move on and the weights they carried with them into the afterlife; how her strong drive towards everything she's done so far has been in part a result of the imprint the Final Days situation and then some left on Persephone's soul, she would've continued to refuse to entertain Zenos at the edge of the universe.

What shocks her the most is when he said he will accept it if she does walk away from him after everything. Part of her wants to. Part of her really wants to; to deny him still as his "consequence" for his grievous disrespect of her. But seeing how much became imprinted on Hermes' soul even after he reincarnated after his sundering, and how Zenos came all that way to help her fight the Endsinger moved her to finally give Zenos what he had long been craving; to set his soul at peace, without lingering regrets, in hopes that his next life will be much more fulfilling.

She is very clear with him that this is no ordinary battle; she is not forgiving him for anything he's done. This is a ritual. She will kill him if that battle is what it takes to prevent him/his soul from returning as he is in some way, shape or form. What she doesn't outright tell him is that some part of her pities him. Not until the very end, anyway, when he admits he does regret that this is the only thing that makes him feel satisfied. Until then, she doesn't want to hear what he has to say; his projections of the Y'dehlya Rhikta in his head.

Now Y'dehlya herself enjoys pursuing her own self-indulgent pleasures, too, when moments allow: A nice hot bath after a long day of adventuring, long walks on the beach, decadent sweets, sex, fine wine and spirits, shopping, fine dining and new culinary experiences, etc. She can find joy and pleasure in so many things. But then, he's the crown prince of the most powerful and coldest empire in recent history on top of being a supergenius. He was a Lonely Rich Kid taken to extremes. No wonder the only thing he finds pleasure in is from battling to the death after his sword tutor tried to assassinate him. So when she says these final words to him as he dies, she means it in earnest:

"May you know peace, Zenos Galvus. May your next life be more fulfilling than this."

No middle name title. In omitting that while addressing him, she frees him from what he had been labeled as: "Member of the royal family in the line of succession" and "outcast".

She did this with Fandaniel/Amon despite it all. Why not extend it to him, too?

[ungrateful-cyborg-moved]

What do they think about the Empire? Did their feelings on the matter evolve over time?

My imperial engineer feels rather strongly about the Empire, but It's Complicated™

TL;DR: Might makes right. She loved what it’s been and doesn’t care for what it’s become, except for what she can obtain out of its ashes.

Hanae is the daughter of a Garlean nobleman and a Doman servant. She was conceived and born in Doma before Doma fell, and thought for years that her father had tried to prevent the war between the Empire and Doma. Having no real attachment to either land since she grew up in Kugane and both the Empire and Doma were sore subjects for her mother, she didn’t think much of either until her father took her in and raised her to become the perfect heiress (in hope she’d give him grandsons to claim as rightful heirs since his wife couldn’t conceive).

Hanae did everything she could to become what he wanted her to be. Learned how to act like a noblewoman, learned the History of Garlemald, studied to eventually joined the Magitek Academy, joined the Imperial Army, married a Garlean nobleman and gave him two daughters before he passed away, rose the ranks and fought to help Varis gain power after Emperor’s Solus’ death. She saw herself living the rest of her life in the Empire, the greatest nation of the world, only to see it crumble under its own weight once she had achieved so much.

Hanae loved the Empire.

She wasn’t blind to its faults.

Though what she perceived as such is probably much different than what someone from a conquered nation would have identified as such. She never took issue with assimilation to achieve unity for example, but did find how many Garleans went about it to be excessive. The fact she had to go through so much to achieve what other people managed to get with half the effort, for example, is something that often angers her. But like many things about the Empire, she tends to be angered by what affected her rather than what made other people suffer.

Now that the Empire isn’t anymore, of course, things are different. She mostly blames Zenos and his incompetency for it, since she doesn’t really know what exactly happened, and has no explanation for the Towers.

At this point, I would say that she doesn’t care very much, however. The Empire isn’t anymore and what is left of it is for her to take and shape how she sees fit. Or Garlemald is, at least, though she’s got eyes on the provinces too. That said, Hanae doesn’t want to raise too much attention, and her way to gain power is through criminal activities. Think of it as Don Vito Corleone’s beginnings in The Godfather. That’s where she’s at right now.

Thanks for the ask, @kaerwyn-silvermoon!

[kiryll-antiqua]

Ring

Among Kiryll’s gifts was what appeared to be an Eorzea-styled ring of Eternal Bonding, attuned to an aetheryte installed in a closet in the Imperial Palace.

Only used once, or perhaps twice, although, if he remembered right, three times, or maybe a fourth? 

It was a way that was devised to give Kiryll a private audience with Lord Varis at his leisure. It came with a letter of apology after they had parted from their first time together. Since Varis had no way of using such a thing himself, and Kiryll could just teleport anywhere he wanted once he got access to a place, so it seemed discreet enough.

Kiryll had had another such ring once, which was exchanged as more of a way of helping a friend get a leg up on getting her start in adventuring than any kind of romantic encounter. He hoped she was well, wherever she was, for they had both moved on at least twice from each other's circles by now.

The idea of a marriage ceremony was a little skewed in his own mind. His own parents had been married all his life, but his mother's safety had depended upon his father keeping it a secret, so things like ceremonies mattered very little to him in terms of romance. He himself as an escort man found himself on the wrong side of marriage vows quite a lot, usually by accident, usually finding out during or after his services were being performed.

During his first few weeks with Varis, getting to talk about Lady Mia and how devastated he was at her loss, left him in a state of disinterest for marrying again, yet here this letter was, and there this ring was.

Their letters back and forth were always circular. 

I miss you, I love you, I need you, please stop what you’re doing and be with me, sent back and forth to each other, with more or less words added depending on the mood, with various levels of sorrow or contempt added on.

Kiryll couldn’t tell if his fixation was worse, or if Varis’s fixation was worse, but Kiryll figured that if Varis were truly off his rocker, he did have the means to do something intense, like have him kidnapped if he wanted, but it obviously wasn’t what he wanted. And that’s what kept Kiryll’s thoughts swirling back to him.

The first time he tried it, he didn’t even think it would work, but it actually did, and he immediately teleported back home. He had no idea if anyone even noticed he had tried.

The second time he tried it, it was the middle of the night, and he crept out into the room, trying to be as silent as he could. Varis had a habit of sleeping on his side, and usually clutched something close to his chest, usually a pillow or a blanket when a partner was not available. Kiryll placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to wake him, but he was completely out. This would have been the perfect time to perhaps murder him while his guards thought his room completely secure, but that was never what he wanted. Unsure how he would take to waking up next to him, Kiryll wrote him a note instead. “Will call again tomorrow a little earlier.”

The third time was a little more fun, and could have very well counted as the first or only time it was used to its intended effect.

The fourth time was when it fell out of its hiding place as Kiryll was moving out of Ul’dah, after he had helped defeat the Endsinger. He had no idea what he was thinking, but he tried it and found himself in a freefall in Babil Tower, which he supposed was better than finding the room in a state of desecration initiated by Zenos, but it was still upsetting, but not so upsetting that he couldn’t quickly chant Return before hitting some grated metal platform.

Ul’dah continued on, as bright as ever, not having a single clue what he was going through, and for the most part, it was good that it didn’t, and it would be pretty terrible if it acknowledged his grief, because then a lot of people would know about it, but it was too hot outside, and too bright, and too noisy for his tastes, so he just made for his apartment and continued to pack.

[displacedarchon]

Every so often I have the thought, that I should keep Haruchefant alive in Himi’s FFXIV story.  Because I’ve grown to really like their chemistry and writing the two’s adventures is REALLY fun. (Plus who doesn’t want to see angy Haurchefant vs Zenos?) Buuuuut.  Himi is a character I’ve had for 20ish years, give or take. She’s always been a FF/KH oc and due to the nature of things, especially when I started rping with her.... She’s never really had to deal with someone dying and it not being reversible, as a character overall.  It’s not that no one EVER died...but she or someone else could resurrect them. Or they’d come back in some other way.  Including her!  She was part of a consistent RP story line for 15ish years, so there’s NO way I could even begin to delve into everything she’s done in one post. FFXIV Himi has inherited the appearance, a couple of the names, and character traits of Original Himi, she’s truly a shard in a way!  FFXIV Himi is obviously not...a keyblade wielder who has harassed Sora on more than one occasion for Orichalcum, but , y’know. And it’s not that death didn’t ever have an impact or was never taken seriously or never had its solemn moments, it’s just that when your friends are varying degrees of Immortal at best, or at worst, need to be brought back to life every so often there’s less FEAR when it happens. At least for her.  Which is why, that even thought FFXIV Himi didn’t go through anything that Original Himi did, I’m letting Haurchefant die when he does in HW.  Because WOW. When I think about how that would affect her? Her character develops and grows in a way that Original Himi NEVER could (unless jump the shark forced).  It changes how she handles the rest of HW, it changes how she acts in Stormblood, (especially when Thancred passes out) hell, it changes how she interacts with Emet-Selch in Shadowbringers, and by the time Endwalker rolls around she’s not just heehoo Original Himi implanted into FFXIV anymore. Through ARR and the start of HW, she’s a pacifist as much as possible because her healing magic isn’t working as well as it used to. She prefers teleporting her enemies away, or sleeping them, unless she is FORCED to kill other people, she avoids it. After Haurchefant? She’d struggle to still have mercy.  She’d struggle with the title of “Warrior of Light”. When Thancred collapses and for a split second she thinks he’s dead? Aymeric removes her from the room as quickly as he possibly can because she’s got the same expression on her face as the day Haurchefant died and he knows she’s about to start screaming and he’d rather hear her scream like that twice than let anyone else hear her in that much distress once.  Emet-Selch, an Unsundered Ascian? Jumped into the role of Emperor Solus? WELL; he’s already implied that he knew her before the sundering and was quite fond of her so WHAT IF she just tries to convince him to ditch the whole rejoining thing and forget about Zodiark and become a good guy again because HEY he’s immortal which means that he wouldn’t die on her unless SHE stabbed him with a weapon of light so what if she made a genuine effort to get ALL her memories back and rekindle whatever they USED to have and she’d never have to worry about the person she loved dying on her ever again!  And then, in Endwalker, when she decides she’s not a hero because she can’t smile anymore, how does she unpack all the grief that’s been eating away at her slowly? Aggrevated by, more deaths that can’t be undone and never given the time she needs to rest, to grieve, to heal?  What prevents her from helping Fandaniel? What stops her from giving into the Dynamis and turning into a monster, being lost forever?  Hell, how is she able to fight crystal mom? Or Meteion?  How does she make it to the end of Endwalker at ALL?  So as fun as it would be to have Haurchefant (and others) live, to see him smack his shield across Zenos’s face, or have him knock some sense into the Crystal Exarch, or giving the peppiest pep talk to Meteion.  The weight of grief, and how it changes her, would be more interesting and enjoyable for me to explore. Because it’s not a weight that I’ve ever explored with that character in the 20 years that I’ve had her. She’s always had a poetic realtionship with death, and not that there wouldn’t be any poetry for FFXIV, it works better, I think anyways for FFXIV which really seems to want to tackle the meaning of grief (even if the WoL model is silent and has 3 expressions the entire ti,e. dahsjdasjkdhaks). 

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2K22 - Prompt 6

Onerous

Hero’s preparing for his Eternal Bonding Ceremony to Zenos as per Garlean Tradition, and has an echo memory far more invasive than normal.

TW: No dead naming, but Hero’s Echo Memory does out someone who’s post-transition and that can be emotionally upsetting on its own. The story does take care to use proper pronouns once it’s addressed, but do be aware.

An Eternal Bond was about love, at least from Hero’s perspective. You love someone, you make a commitment to be with them through everything. He was quickly learning that’s not how bonding worked for royalty. Ceremony after ceremony was giving the viera a lingering headache rivaling the pain he felt from a bad echo flashback. Every time he thought he understood, there was something he was doing wrong.

Of course, his future groom’s father was not helping. Varis was an imposing wall of a man during the best of times, but now? He was just nit-picking. “Back straight, you need to make fluid graceful movements. Every eye in the room will be upon you.”

Hero grit his teeth and tried again, trying to stiffen up and move gracefully at the same time. When he heard Varis inhale sharply through the nose again? Hero finally whirled about on his heel. “What? Say it! Come out and say it. I know you don’t think I’m good enough to be here but for fuck’s sake at least have the decency to tell me the truth instead of piling restriction upon restriction on my every move!”

Apparently he caught the older man off guard, because Varis’ eyes widened and his nostrils flared in a distinctly Emet-Selch-as-Solus way before he regained his composure. “I assure you, that is not my intent. After all that has happened in the Empire, I- I suppose I want this to be perfect so my detractors have less cause for complaint. In trying to do so, I must seem like an over-critical parent to you.”

Thankfully Zenos wasn’t in the room, else he’d be willing to cut the tension between them with a knife. Moreso when Hero suddenly swooned, a memory of Varis’ past bubbling to the surface.

A young Garlean woman sat in the same room Hero was in now, staring at herself in the mirror decorated in wedding finery with disdain. She raised a single fist toward her reflection only to startle out of it when the door opened behind her. “Regula? You shouldn’t be here, it’s bad luck.”

The dashing man behind her was Regula? Then who was the bride? “So is smashing mirrors,” he said a name but the memory itself seemed to drown it out. As if the name had been wiped away. “All this pomp and ceremony doesn’t suit me, and that dress doesn’t suit you.”

“It is traditional.” She replied, sounding almost broken inside. “At least while the country still sees me as their princess.”

“You would be a much more charming prince.” Regula reached out to her and Hero was starting to understand. Not her. Him. Him long ago before Solus broke him. “Have you picked a name yet?”

“For myself or for the baby?” Ah, that would do it. That was the complicating wrench in the matter. No wonder he was angry enough to smash a mirror.

“Yourself, I hate calling you by a name that isn’t yours. I love you, I want to support you no matter what.”

“Varis. I found it in one of the baby name books, I- I think I like that one.” Now that Hero thought about it, he was seeing Varis’ back but not his face. Never his face. This was a memory he didn’t deserve to see, a private moment that should have stayed as such. A curse of his blessing once more.

“Varis then.” Regula smiled and reached out to pull his future spouse close, “I Regula, do promise to take Varis yae Galvus to be my loving husband. To have and to hold, to honor and cherish, to support and protect. Until my last breath.”

“Regula- you don’t know that grandsire will put me in the line of succession.”

“If he doesn’t, he’s a damned fool.”

Varis seemed to soften up, stepping forward. “Fine, I- Varis, do take Regula sas Hydra, to be my loving husband.” Varis repeated Regula’s vows, word for word, closing them with a chaste and lingering kiss. “You know how many traditions we’ve broken, right?”

“I don’t need tradition, I need you and your happiness. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

Hero snapped back to himself on the floor, a medicus hovering over him as Varis paced circles about the room. “I’m fine, I’m fine- echo memory, happens all the time.” He noted it was Varis’ personal medicus too, an odd show of care from a man who only showed love through the most subtle ways.

“A memory?” The medicus left as Varis swallowed hard, his eyes locking on Hero’s own with an intensity that made Hero uncomfortable. “What kind of memory?”

“I think it was your wedding day.” Varis swallowed again and looked torn between making excuses and just silencing Hero permanently when Hero held up a hand. “I heard Regula vow to love you until death, Varis. I promise you, that is the only name I will ever know you by. You’re my future father in-law and I’m starting to understand why you’re pressing me so hard about tradition.” He chewed his lip to try to find the right words, “are you worried that if Zenos and I break from tradition we’ll suffer for it?”

“I-” The larger man sat down quietly in one of the chairs lining the room, letting out a sigh that seemed to rob half his height from him. “I wish I could so easily blame everything that’s happened on Regula and I forgoing tradition and making our own rules together. Except I wouldn’t trade those choices for this whole bloody empire. I had him for twenty wonderful years, and though I wish I could turn back time and keep him selfishly at my side, I am not my grandsire. I will not moor myself to a fixed point I cannot change. I can only try to keep moving forward, take care of our son, and create the future we both longed to share.”

Hero nodded and stood quietly, “I’m sorry my stupid echo invaided your privacy like that, but thank you anyway. I think I do understand better now. Shall we try the rehearsal again? I promise I’ll take it more seriously.”

“Honestly? I hated practicing for it too. Worst three weeks of my life. I’d take having to go back and do military grunt work over this bloody pomp and ceremony any day.” The emperor cracked a smile and sat upright properly again, “besides, Zenos probably won’t care a whit if you remember the steps so long as you’re his by the end of it. Keep that in mind and you’ll probably do fine.”

“As you say, your Radiance.”

[starcunning]

2. Bolt

Breath of Morning

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast's FFXIVWrite 2022. [AO3 mirror] References to adult situations/NSFW content. Not explicit.

She wakes with a start to unfamiliar environs.

This is not her ceiling—not the canopy of canvas hung over the bed in her cliffside waystop; not the stone facade that rises above Mor Dhona, giving a name to the likeliest place for her to lay her head. This is certainly not the gilt-tracery mosaic of some Amaurot apartment.

It’s warm.

She hears the rise and fall of breathing far too steady to be her own, and Shasi slowly turns her head.

The spill of his blonde hair is lank and damp from the shower—bells must have passed since then, and in Thanalan the desert air would have wrung them both out long since, but … she strains to listen past Eros’s breathing, and yes; there is the distant rush of waves.

La Noscea, then. With him—neither should be a surprise. How often had she returned to Limsa Lominsa simply for him? Her head hurts and her throat is dry. His arms are heavy, still wound around her.

One touches the small of her back, fingers splayed loosely over the branching, fern-like scar, twin to the one on her front. His other hand is between her legs, thick fingers not quite reaching inside her. Shasi shifts her weight and finds herself sore; his fingertips spark that sensation anew.

Not a surprise that she’d come here. An inevitability. She had found him dancing for money, stole him away for a drink, and turned his head by refraining to follow up with the usual proposition. In return he had poured out a measure of trust; had laid before her a banquet of secrets and suffering, speaking of things too long unspoken. This she was used to.

Then Eros van Aventis—no, Eros yae Galvus—had asked her to unburden herself before him in turn.

This was strange.

So too the fact that she had fallen asleep in this rented bed—she had meant to linger only so long as it took him to fall asleep, but perhaps she had succumbed first. It will take some doing to extricate herself from his grasp, and yet she must. With war-callused hands she grasps his wrists, marveling at the black and red whorls of ink that decorate his skin. Slowly—ever so slowly—she unwinds them from about her.

He stirs, and she freezes, ears trained forward to catch any hitch in his breathing. Her attention lingers upon his face; the fringe of his pale lashes hides those golden eyes, and with his face slack in sleep the resemblance to his kin is more obvious than ever. Awake, he is rather too animated—not given to Zenos’s apathetic anomie nor Varis’s dour mien, the relative he most resembles, she finds, is his grandsire Solus. But Eros’s smiles are more expressive than wry, and that dimple in his cheek is not of the Galvus canon. Something of his mother’s, she supposes.

He does not rouse as she lays his arms loosely atop his chest. Shasi finds the room far colder once she’s slipped from the bed; she gathers her discarded clothing, clutching it to herself. There comes the oddest impulse to stay—after all, he had invited her to, less with words than deeds when he had turned on its face the chronometer meant to keep the time she was allotted with him. No less so when they had washed in the wake of their coupling and he had not handed her those garments she now holds against her body, but tugged her back into the bed that still smelled of them both. But she had been lucky to wake silent once and would not be so again. His face is so peaceful in repose, she thinks. She will not be the one to steal the ease from that countenance.

If she does not go now, she will never make it out. Shasi creeps across the floor, and quiet as she can, puts a door between them, standing naked in the silent halls of the bawdyhouse that—however impossibly—hosts a prodigal prince of the Empire. The sky is pre-dawn grey outside the distant windows, and she hastens to dress, confident now that the sound of her footfalls should not give her away.

Knowing not what she flees, X’shasi Kilntreader steals away into the last of the night.

[autumnslance]

I noticed you doing character bingos again! I’d like to see one for Zenos if possible. I had fun with him in Stormblood, but found that joy to drowned with how he was handled in Endwalker. By the end I just wanted to be done with that monster. If the game had let me walk away without fighting him, like he suggested, I would have.

Wild, we're about the opposite; I disliked Zenos a great deal in Stormblood--he was bloody useless and an annoyance out of nowhere--while I feel they finally figured him out and mostly hit their stride with him in Endwalker, as he gave up pretending to care about military and political matters and became the wandering blood knight he actually is.

Almost got a bingo, but let's be real; I always have too much to say about major characters.

I also won't say anything negative about folks' WoLships, which are by far the most popular Zenos pairing; folks have their fun and they're welcome to it. But fandom is a good chunk of the issue with Zenos. One either loves him or hates him, and both sides tend to take it to extremes and flanderize / mischaracterize the man rather than dealing with the canon portrayal.

In my opinion, he's not that deep. Yes I have read "The Hunt Begins" thank you I own a copy of Chronicles of Light. It told us nothing new about his history and personality, just gave us a glimpse of where he started to find his focus, exactly as the title tells us. The thing is, Zenos doesn't have to be "deep" (whatever one means by that) to be compelling and do his job as a character in the story. Given his straightforward viewpoints, especially in EW as he gives an answer to Hermes' questions, Zenos himself might scoff at the need to find hidden depth of meaning to his personality and existence.

I've also said somewhere, probably my other big Zenos write-up, that he's not quite tragic, though there's tragedy all around and through him. He chooses to not deal with it in any fashion, a creature of the present entirely.

I think he needed a better introduction, seeded over the HW patches, even just in discussion and rumors if we still didn't see him until that patch 3.55 shot. I think he should have done something in StB other than be a "lose the fight the right way" plot checkpoint and just handing Doma and Ala Mhigo back to the heroes without having to really work for them.

I really think a massive part of the dissatisfaction many folks have with StB's story is that the victories are hollow after so much misery in those lands, who are then each shorted due to sharing the expansion. And a lot of that comes down to the misuse of Zenos, whose attributes are mostly told to us as he sleeps on the throne and bullies his underlings. For a supposedly brilliant man, we never see it in his military strategies, and he's played handily by Fandaniel, who knew just how to pull Zenos's strings.

So yeah. I was ready to be done with him in EW; "In From the Cold" is horrifying but I see it more as Fandaniel's scheme that Zenos goes all into. My WoL stopped caring about Zenos the moment trial 1 ended and Fandaniel's scheme became clear. I eye rolled whenever Zenos came back onscreen, though I think the scene in Garlemald with Jullus and Alisaie were good for him and lead directly into the finale.

I know what I just wrote and that I checked "too much screentime" but honestly he got a shade too little in EW. I DID dread/expect some kinda 11th hour teamup, though the "how" made me laugh incredulously. It worked in its weird way.

The final fight he still didn't understand my WoL but she was done and wanted to make sure it was finally over and he wouldn't darken her door or threaten anyone again. The solo duel is not unknown in other FF games, and I rather enjoyed it and the final punch-out at the end as they exhausted themselves entirely.

Mileage varies, depending on one's WoL, feelings on Zenos, and on that tropey duel of mirrored characters. I've also already spoken to the gripes about him being truly gone per Word of God and while one can do whatever one wants in fanfic, there's a lot of reason it does, in fact, work to leave his corpse at the edge of the universe and I'm OK with it. His part in the story, and how that affects Assumed Default Warrior of Light's self-understanding, is complete.

Like the Ascians, he's done. Interested to see what's up with his Avatar, since we also got nothing on his being a Reaper (could have used more on that too!!) as we move into the 6.x patches and build up of the next arc.

[twotonedechoes]

So. I'm gonna go on a bit of a diatribe here.

Last night, I finally figured out my issue with Zenos. Simply put, it's that I like him as a character but I hate him as a villain. He's got an intriguing story, unique personality and manner, clearly a good look, and is generally a likeable, if morally ambiguous character. This easily shows in his appearance in Dissidia, where he is awesome because he's in his element. He's there to fight, and he's having a fucking blast doing it.

Comparatively, when used as a villain he fails spectacularly. This is due mainly to the simple fact that he just... doesn't do anything. At all. Ever. His presence never serves to move the plot forward in any meaningful way, and you could remove him entirely, and nothing from the narrative would change.

Yes, there are examples. We get his intro scene where he's marching into the city. He's presented in this ominous and imposing grand manner, but he then proceeds to do... nothing. Literally nothing. He just sits there, looking bored. He takes no initiative, and caused no forward movement. He just lazily slightly reacts to what is unfolding.

The scene in the Reach, which is supposed to be his first truly shining moment, when we are shocked and defeated. But you could completely remove him from the moment, take that whole thing out and. Nothing changes. Even without him, the attack on the Reach would be crushing, and the response the same. It could just as easily have only been Fordola, and her making a retreat after doing enough damage.

Then we have the assassination attempt by Yugiri. Again, this entire sequence could be taken out completely, and nothing would change in the grand narrative. It does nothing for the forward movement of the plot, and if anything feels more like a distraction, or side mission. In the scene with the officers where he takes Fordola's plan to heart, there is nothing he actually contributes. It's Fordola's plan, and she is the one we have to contend with as it's launched.

He threats Yotsuyu all so intimidatingly, but it doesn't actually serve to change anything in the plot trajectory. She was going to keep fighting us regardless.

Ala Mhigo as a dungeon and climax would work just as well if we'd just fought him in the throne room, and he'd killed himself then and there. The whole Shinryu thing plans no part in the grander narrative. In fact, we're the only ones to see it, and it's never mentioned again. It didn't matter, outside of his personal story. Not the WoL's. Not the grander plot. Just his.

The body snatching is cool, but again, changes nothing. Elidibus would have left to come hunt us down after sensing Emet's death regardless. Sure he kills Varis-possibly the only actual impact he has on the plot-but it could have just as easily been a confrontation with Gaius and Estinien that resulted in it and the following civil war, for all the impact he has afterwards.

Fandaniel is the one to take initiative and set the next events in motion. In fact, Zenos makes it perfectly clear that he actually doesn't give a shit about it, and is not going to do a damned thing to contribute. We get his slight plot progression, but again, nothing to the bigger story.

Compare that to Emet-Selch's story impact. His exposition permanently changes the way we as the player as well as the Scions and WoL in game react to and think of the Ascians and the world. His intervention in the Exarch's final plan is the sole reason we have the last part and area of the game. Discovering and seeing Amarout is a huge deal, and it doesn't happen without Emet, and Emet specifically. There's no other character you can swap in to get that forward momentum, without fundamentally changing who they are to fit the role Emet plays. Or, for a lesser example, consider Vauthry. There simply is no Eulmore without him. He is the linchpin that creates every ounce of conflict in Kholusia. Take him out, and there's nothing left. He is essential (and again here, we have Emet once more serving as an essential piece).

Even taking it back to ARR, Gaius' appearance irreversibly changes where the plot goes. His slow propaganda towards pro-Empire feelings is a constant background effect. And when he finally shows up with the Ultima Weapon, our entire goal changes to defeating it. Again, there is no ARR without Gaius. He is essential. Whereas you can literally remove Zenos entirely and nothing is effected.

wtl:dr-Zenos is a good character that fails because he is horribly utilized and implemented into the plot.

[usagi-mitsu]

Prompt #14 Commend

Speaking about ones feelings is hard. In some cases, it‘s harder. But this conversation had been long overdue - and had not gotten easier with time…

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast // #ffxivwrite2021

Prompt #14 Commend

A continuation of Prompt #8 Friable.

Leaving the spoils of Shia‘s day out in the field behind, the two of them looked for a quiet room. Yes. Everybody was aware of the tensions between them. That did not mean they needed to hear them arguing. Or whatever else might occur.

G‘raha for one hoped they might clear the air. It had been abundantly clear that they needed to talk. Be it how she acted around him or much more, how she tried to avoid his company all together. He had been taken by surprise when she had showed up the day prior, asking if he could lend her an ear or both. That she initiated it was a heaven-sent – he had no idea how to start the conversation to begin with. And he had seemingly even less of an idea about how to have it. Which had ended with her shoving a chair and storming out on him. Half the Rising Stones witnessed it as he had tried to follow, to reason. But that had only enraged her further. She had then been gone for another day and a half. Had Thancred not told him she was back, G‘Raha wouldn‘t have noticed for probably another day or so.

They finally found a quiet space in the back of their headquarters. The front still was a tavern after all and the insides where they resided now had belonged to it, serving as guestbooks and conference areas of sort. But with Mor Dhona not exactly having been a tourist attraction or a centre of commerce (at least not before the Scions arrived), the owner of the tavern gladly offered the space to Minfilla, when she asked.

The rooms walls had been hidden behind bookshelves, with a couch in the back. Where there should have been a pool table though, they found just a simple wooden desk with two chairs. It did feel a bit like they were about to interrogate each other.

Shia knew how to remedy that though. Her eyes searched and found one of the shelves, where she pulled out a thick book.

„Whisky?“

Opening it, the insides revealed not the contents of „The Ishgardian-Limsan Sex and Cook Book and How to Raise Morbols“, but two glasses and a bottle filled with a golden liquid.

G‘Raha simply nodded.

„Do I want to know how you know about this?“

She grinned while pouring. „Thancred and I have had our arguments over the years. This is one of the things we agree on and whenever either of us needs some me-time or if we have to discuss things and such, we get this. And then we discuss. Or just drink. It depends on the topic. And the one having the last of it, has to replace the bottle. It‘s quite the convenient arrangement.“

„I can tell.“

A careful sniff on the glass almost curled his nose hair backwards. This was strong stuff.

„To us,“ Shia sat down and raised her drink. He joined her at the table, clinking his glass to hers.

„To us.“

For a minute they were just silent. The taste of the whisky had caught G‘raha off of his guard – even though he had thoroughly taken in it‘s scent before. He needed that minute to stop coughing.

„You know you are not supposed to inhale this, right? It‘s for drinking.“

The grin in Shia‘s voice was hard to overhear.

„Please don‘t mind me,“ he replied the moment he could catch his breath, „I‘m just the one with the body that hasn‘t had any alcohol in months.“

„I‘m sorry,“ Shia amended, „I promise to consider my words more carefully from now on … well. At least for this conversation.“

And they were back on topic.

„I‘m sorry for yesterday. I had hoped to speak to you about this much earlier, but I never had the courage to do so.“ Shia kept her voice as quiet and controlled as she could, even though the thought of speaking her thoughts out loud made her want to scream and run away. Running away from her problems though had never solved them. Or it had at least that one time when they were running from the brass blades and-

She shook her head. Stay on topic!

G‘Raha seemingly hadn‘t noticed her thoughts trailing off. „Thank you for initiating. I realise that this is not an easy conversation and I commend you for starting it. I would like to apologise for not being in the right mindset yesterday. This could have gone far better.“

„It wasn‘t your fault alone. As I mentioned before, my ego is brittle and you managed to hit some spots that I was hoping you would not. Then again… you were right and I should not have reacted like this.“

„Your ego is not brittle,“ he deliberately took another sip from his glass, „if it was, I highly doubt people like Lolorito or Varis zos Galvus would still be walking this earth.“

„You forget that Varis has kicked the bucked a few weeks ago.“

„Not by your hand.“

„But I would have loved to be the one to do it.“

„You should tell Zenos whenever you next meet him.“

Shia cackled. „Yes. I‘ll say „how dare you kill your father and not letting me do it“! And he might even apologise before trying to kill me – again.“

„You just occupy a very special place in his hear. He adores you, or so I have heard.“

„He is a homicidal maniac with a tendency to gut people, overthrow empires and burn countries to the ground but sure. Let‘s say he adores me. Perhaps I should ask him for a ring and a ceremony of eternal bonding and then we have a „Kill Jill“ style fight on our wedding night. Might end this whole world ending business early.“

„And what about Fandaniel?“

„He can be our target practice instead of having a cake?“

„Sounds lovely.“

„Yeah…“

The two of them fell silent once more.

Shia was the one bring them back to their previous conversation topic.

„Right. So. If I may, I would like to just… I would like to just say what‘s been on my mind? If that is ok? It‘s a lot and I know we don‘t have all the time in the world and we-„

„Shia,“ G‘Raha leaned forward. Very gently he took her hand in his. „We will take all the time we need to get this right. All that matters is the outcome, alright?“

She nodded.

And finally spilled it all.

What she had felt for him when they had been researching the Crystal Tower. How she felt when he decided to lock himself away. How Haurchefant and the Scions had helped her get him off of her mind.

About the feelings she had been hiding form a certain Lord Commander and how she had hoped to finally be over him, when he „decided“ to just barge back into her life and rescue her from the battlefield.

About her fear and dread as the Scions, her closest and possibly only real friends in this world, slipped away one after another with no cure or solution in sight.

Her anger and hatred towards the Crystal Exarch, as he was the one responsible for her fears and worries.

How she came to care about him against her own better judgement.

How it hurt when he tried to safe her, only for him to get abducted by her fiercest enemy. She told him about the relief and happiness at his return.

What that night in the pendants truly meant to her.

And about the hurt and anger at his refusal to be together with her, when he had clearly stated that he felt just the same.

How afraid of loosing him she was once more, when she saw him half encased in crystal. And how it broke her heart to see him die then and there atop the tower.

About her reservations before merging his memories with his younger body.

And finally about how all of this hurt. That it hurt so much, she still wasn‘t able to think clearly about it all.

„You were gone. Then you were back. Then you pushed me away. And then you almost died, actually died and now you are back and now you continuously follow me on my missions – you reenacted our very first meeting, Raha! I just… I just can‘t. And it‘s not like this is the only thing on my mind: I‘m still helping out at the Bozjan southern front. The fourth imperial legion is a nightmare to deal with. And don‘t let me get started with Gaius‘ family troubles-“

„Gaius as in… van Baelsar?“ G‘Raha had not dared interrupt her until now, but this one thing he needed confirmed.

„The one and only.“

„I would like to hear more about that when we have finished this conversation, if you don‘t mind. It sounds… interesting.“

„I‘ll tell you all about it – afterwards.“ Shia groaned and hid her face in her hands. „So… to sum it up… these last few weeks, months have been an emotional roller coaster for me. I love you. I want to love you. But I don‘t know what you feel and you have not exactly been forthcoming about it. To distract myself I jumped into work and just… I didn’t want to think about this. I really didn‘t. I still don‘t want to. Having this conversation is overdue, but I‘m so afraid of what comes next. I‘m so afraid, Raha. And then again I‘m not even sure if I should like you! You are the one responsible for almost loosing my best friends – my family! And you almost killed yourself with your plan and-“

Her last words were drowned out by a sob and to G’Rahas horror she began to cry.

„And… and all of that on top of us having to save the world.“

Her last words were almost inaudible. Thick tears rolled form her baby blue eyes while she kept on sobbing uncontrollably.

G‘Raha wasn‘t sure what to do, but he followed his instincts. He was quicker on his feet than he thought he could be and had his arms around her within the blink of an eye.

And for a few minutes they just stood there, arm in arm with Shia sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

After everything she had just told him, after having to bottle all of this up, it wasn‘t really a surprise to him. Had she ever allowed herself to be vulnerable with anyone before? Like this? Not just speaking about her worries for the politics and battles fo the world. But also about her worries, feelings, hopes and dreams?

„I‘m here,“ he whispered, „I‘m here Shia. Iti‘s ok. I‘m here.“ It was all he could do: Reassuring her, that she was not alone. That she did not need to suffer on her own. That it would be ok.

Shia gripped him tighter and only let go after what felt like an eternity.

„I‘m sorry…“ she sniffed and looked at him. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks puffy and red. She had probably worn at least some mascara, which now outlined that path of her tears across her face to her chin.

„No… I‘m sorry. I can‘t really take the blame for all the things that happened in the world, but at least for my part in it… yet…“ he took a deep breath and tightened his hold around her, „to be frank, I think I would do it all again if I had to.“

She nodded, still sniffling.

„The world depended on it. And I would not be here, if you hadn‘t done it… So being mad about that is actually a bit stupid.“

„It is by no means stupid.“

„Let‘s just agree on that. But…“ Shia looked up, brows furrowed, „where do we go from here?“

They were still locked in a tight embrace. His shoulder wet with her tears and her eyes seemingly ready to spill over once again at a moments notice.

The two of them exchanged uncertain glances. A moment went by. And then another. Until G‘raha gently let go.

„I cannot say that I am good at any of this,“ he confessed, „but how about we start where everything should start? Right at the beginning?“

Shia must have looked more than confused, but he smiled and grabbed her hand.

„My name is G‘Raha Tia. I am over 300 years old and have lived through at least one apocalypse. My body though belongs to the 24 years old me from this timeline – did I mention I‘m from another time and another dimension?“

Shia giggled.

„I am now a member of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. It is my wish to support them in their every endeavour to protect the interests of this star. My idol is the Warrior of Light, a fierce fighter committed to the protection of their star. Fighting alongside them is my dearest wish.“

He paused.

„And whom do I have the pleasure with?“

It took her a moment to respond. But when she finally did, she did so with a smile.

„I‘m Shia Tamriel, Warrior of Light and resident trouble maker. But you can call me Shia.“

„It‘s a pleasure.“

It would be a new beginning. A fresh start. And finally, they would continue on together.

A continuation of Prompt #8 Friable.

Leaving the spoils of Shia‘s day out in the field behind, the two of them looked for a quiet room. Yes. Everybody was aware of the tensions between them. That did not mean they needed to hear them arguing. Or whatever else might occur.

G‘raha for one hoped they might clear the air. It had been abundantly clear that they needed to talk. Be it how she acted around him or much more, how she tried to avoid his company all together. He had been taken by surprise when she had showed up the day prior, asking if he could lend her an ear or both. That she initiated it was a heaven-sent – he had no idea how to start the conversation to begin with. And he had seemingly even less of an idea about how to have it. Which had ended with her shoving a chair and storming out on him. Half the Rising Stones witnessed it as he had tried to follow, to reason. But that had only enraged her further. She had then been gone for another day and a half. Had Thancred not told him she was back, G‘Raha wouldn‘t have noticed for probably another day or so.

They finally found a quiet space in the back of their headquarters. The front still was a tavern after all and the insides where they resided now had belonged to it, serving as guestbooks and conference areas of sort. But with Mor Dhona not exactly having been a tourist attraction or a centre of commerce (at least not before the Scions arrived), the owner of the tavern gladly offered the space to Minfilla, when she asked.

The rooms walls had been hidden behind bookshelves, with a couch in the back. Where there should have been a pool table though, they found just a simple wooden desk with two chairs. It did feel a bit like they were about to interrogate each other.

Shia knew how to remedy that though. Her eyes searched and found one of the shelves, where she pulled out a thick book.

„Whisky?“

Opening it, the insides revealed not the contents of „The Ishgardian-Limsan Sex and Cook Book and How to Raise Morbols“, but two glasses and a bottle filled with a golden liquid.

G‘Raha simply nodded.

„Do I want to know how you know about this?“

She grinned while pouring. „Thancred and I have had our arguments over the years. This is one of the things we agree on and whenever either of us needs some me-time or if we have to discuss things and such, we get this. And then we discuss. Or just drink. It depends on the topic. And the one having the last of it, has to replace the bottle. It‘s quite the convenient arrangement.“

„I can tell.“

A careful sniff on the glass almost curled his nose hair backwards. This was strong stuff.

„To us,“ Shia sat down and raised her drink. He joined her at the table, clinking his glass to hers.

„To us.“

For a minute they were just silent. The taste of the whisky had caught G‘raha off of his guard – even though he had thoroughly taken in it‘s scent before. He needed that minute to stop coughing.

„You know you are not supposed to inhale this, right? It‘s for drinking.“

The grin in Shia‘s voice was hard to overhear.

„Please don‘t mind me,“ he replied the moment he could catch his breath, „I‘m just the one with the body that hasn‘t had any alcohol in months.“

„I‘m sorry,“ Shia amended, „I promise to consider my words more carefully from now on … well. At least for this conversation.“

And they were back on topic.

„I‘m sorry for yesterday. I had hoped to speak to you about this much earlier, but I never had the courage to do so.“ Shia kept her voice as quiet and controlled as she could, even though the thought of speaking her thoughts out loud made her want to scream and run away. Running away from her problems though had never solved them. Or it had at least that one time when they were running from the brass blades and-

She shook her head. Stay on topic!

G‘Raha seemingly hadn‘t noticed her thoughts trailing off. „Thank you for initiating. I realise that this is not an easy conversation and I commend you for starting it. I would like to apologise for not being in the right mindset yesterday. This could have gone far better.“

„It wasn‘t your fault alone. As I mentioned before, my ego is brittle and you managed to hit some spots that I was hoping you would not. Then again… you were right and I should not have reacted like this.“

„Your ego is not brittle,“ he deliberately took another sip from his glass, „if it was, I highly doubt people like Lolorito or Varis zos Galvus would still be walking this earth.“

„You forget that Varis has kicked the bucked a few weeks ago.“

„Not by your hand.“

„But I would have loved to be the one to do it.“

„You should tell Zenos whenever you next meet him.“

Shia cackled. „Yes. I‘ll say „how dare you kill your father and not letting me do it“! And he might even apologise before trying to kill me – again.“

„You just occupy a very special place in his hear. He adores you, or so I have heard.“

„He is a homicidal maniac with a tendency to gut people, overthrow empires and burn countries to the ground but sure. Let‘s say he adores me. Perhaps I should ask him for a ring and a ceremony of eternal bonding and then we have a „Kill Jill“ style fight on our wedding night. Might end this whole world ending business early.“

„And what about Fandaniel?“

„He can be our target practice instead of having a cake?“

„Sounds lovely.“

„Yeah…“

The two of them fell silent once more.

Shia was the one bring them back to their previous conversation topic.

„Right. So. If I may, I would like to just… I would like to just say what‘s been on my mind? If that is ok? It‘s a lot and I know we don‘t have all the time in the world and we-„

„Shia,“ G‘Raha leaned forward. Very gently he took her hand in his. „We will take all the time we need to get this right. All that matters is the outcome, alright?“

She nodded.

And finally spilled it all.

What she had felt for him when they had been researching the Crystal Tower. How she felt when he decided to lock himself away. How Haurchefant and the Scions had helped her get him off of her mind.

About the feelings she had been hiding form a certain Lord Commander and how she had hoped to finally be over him, when he „decided“ to just barge back into her life and rescue her from the battlefield.

About her fear and dread as the Scions, her closest and possibly only real friends in this world, slipped away one after another with no cure or solution in sight.

Her anger and hatred towards the Crystal Exarch, as he was the one responsible for her fears and worries.

How she came to care about him against her own better judgement.

How it hurt when he tried to safe her, only for him to get abducted by her fiercest enemy. She told him about the relief and happiness at his return.

What that night in the pendants truly meant to her.

And about the hurt and anger at his refusal to be together with her, when he had clearly stated that he felt just the same.

How afraid of loosing him she was once more, when she saw him half encased in crystal. And how it broke her heart to see him die then and there atop the tower.

About her reservations before merging his memories with his younger body.

And finally about how all of this hurt. That it hurt so much, she still wasn‘t able to think clearly about it all.

„You were gone. Then you were back. Then you pushed me away. And then you almost died, actually died and now you are back and now you continuously follow me on my missions – you reenacted our very first meeting, Raha! I just… I just can‘t. And it‘s not like this is the only thing on my mind: I‘m still helping out at the Bozjan southern front. The fourth imperial legion is a nightmare to deal with. And don‘t let me get started with Gaius‘ family troubles-“

„Gaius as in… van Baelsar?“ G‘Raha had not dared interrupt her until now, but this one thing he needed confirmed.

„The one and only.“

„I would like to hear more about that when we have finished this conversation, if you don‘t mind. It sounds… interesting.“

„I‘ll tell you all about it – afterwards.“ Shia groaned and hid her face in her hands. „So… to sum it up… these last few weeks, months have been an emotional roller coaster for me. I love you. I want to love you. But I don‘t know what you feel and you have not exactly been forthcoming about it. To distract myself I jumped into work and just… I didn’t want to think about this. I really didn‘t. I still don‘t want to. Having this conversation is overdue, but I‘m so afraid of what comes next. I‘m so afraid, Raha. And then again I‘m not even sure if I should like you! You are the one responsible for almost loosing my best friends – my family! And you almost killed yourself with your plan and-“

Her last words were drowned out by a sob and to G’Rahas horror she began to cry.

„And… and all of that on top of us having to save the world.“

Her last words were almost inaudible. Thick tears rolled form her baby blue eyes while she kept on sobbing uncontrollably.

G‘Raha wasn‘t sure what to do, but he followed his instincts. He was quicker on his feet than he thought he could be and had his arms around her within the blink of an eye.

And for a few minutes they just stood there, arm in arm with Shia sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder.

After everything she had just told him, after having to bottle all of this up, it wasn‘t really a surprise to him. Had she ever allowed herself to be vulnerable with anyone before? Like this? Not just speaking about her worries for the politics and battles fo the world. But also about her worries, feelings, hopes and dreams?

„I‘m here,“ he whispered, „I‘m here Shia. Iti‘s ok. I‘m here.“ It was all he could do: Reassuring her, that she was not alone. That she did not need to suffer on her own. That it would be ok.

Shia gripped him tighter and only let go after what felt like an eternity.

„I‘m sorry…“ she sniffed and looked at him. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks puffy and red. She had probably worn at least some mascara, which now outlined that path of her tears across her face to her chin.

„No… I‘m sorry. I can‘t really take the blame for all the things that happened in the world, but at least for my part in it… yet…“ he took a deep breath and tightened his hold around her, „to be frank, I think I would do it all again if I had to.“

She nodded, still sniffling.

„The world depended on it. And I would not be here, if you hadn‘t done it… So being mad about that is actually a bit stupid.“

„It is by no means stupid.“

„Let‘s just agree on that. But…“ Shia looked up, brows furrowed, „where do we go from here?“

They were still locked in a tight embrace. His shoulder wet with her tears and her eyes seemingly ready to spill over once again at a moments notice.

The two of them exchanged uncertain glances. A moment went by. And then another. Until G‘raha gently let go.

„I cannot say that I am good at any of this,“ he confessed, „but how about we start where everything should start? Right at the beginning?“

Shia must have looked more than confused, but he smiled and grabbed her hand.

„My name is G‘Raha Tia. I am over 300 years old and have lived through at least one apocalypse. My body though belongs to the 24 years old me from this timeline – did I mention I‘m from another time and another dimension?“

Shia giggled.

„I am now a member of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. It is my wish to support them in their every endeavour to protect the interests of this star. My idol is the Warrior of Light, a fierce fighter committed to the protection of their star. Fighting alongside them is my dearest wish.“

He paused.

„And whom do I have the pleasure with?“

It took her a moment to respond. But when she finally did, she did so with a smile.

„I‘m Shia Tamriel, Warrior of Light and resident trouble maker. But you can call me Shia.“

„It‘s a pleasure.“

It would be a new beginning. A fresh start. And finally, they would continue on together.

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 26 - Irrational

“Oh thank the Twelve, you’re coming to.”

Blinking your eyes, you feel like you’ve been floating in space and have finally come down to earth, your limbs feeling heavy after being suspended in zero-gravity. You’ve been passing out too much lately you think, circumstances be damned.

Milky eyes that belong to a powdery face come into focus, Merlwyb the picture of worry as she calls for a doctor to check on your condition.

“Chief Merlwyb?” you cough, a glass of water held in front of you before you can even ask, Merlwyb slipping a straw inside and gently holding it towards your face. Mumbling a word of thanks, you take a sip, the water refreshing and quenching as you nearly down the whole cup until Merlwyb draws it away.

“I think you should slow it down. From what I understand, they were having to reintroduce you to food.” Merlwyb murmurs, setting the cup down on a nearby nightstand. Taking a look around you’re back in the same makeshift sick room within Cid’s mansion, IV hooked up to your arm as it pumps you full of whatever is in the bag attached to it. The doctor shows up soon enough, giving you a quick once over as she makes sure you’re on the mend.

As the doctor asks you a few questions, you notice Merlwyb looking incredibly guilty, wondering if she really feels so bad you had gotten captured. Surely she can’t be beating herself up over that?

“And if I may ask,” the doctor begins but Merlwyb holds up a hand gently.

“If it is alright with you doctor, I would like to speak to my officer about this alone.” Merlwyb interrupts, the doctor giving a nod of understanding, saying nothing more as she exits the room. Turning to you, Merlwyb’s fists are clenched tightly in her lap, and you get too worried to keep your peace.

“Is everything okay?” you ask with a broken laugh. “I mean, I know it was scary, Varis locking me up, but I’m okay. I’m okay.” You grin, reaching out to try to console her but she jerks away. “Chief,”

“Do not call me that.” She bites out, the harshness of her voice shocking you. A little hurt, you begin to question what you could’ve done to warrant such a flip in her attitude, until you see she is shaking with unshed tears, liquid pooling in the corners of her eyes as she finally gains the will to meet you eye to eye. “Do not refer to me with such respect after I’ve failed you so catastrophically.”

Confused, you shift to try and sit up a little better. “Chief Merlwyb, what do you mean? I thought we went over all the risks at the start! We knew that this would be a dangerous job,”

“The job would be dangerous, yes! But never would I have made you become pregnant with that bastard’s child!” She cries, tears finally running down her face. You sit in perfect stillness, unsure what to say. Faced with the reality of having to explain that you were not only pregnant with Zenos’ child, but that you didn’t even feel bad about it. When Varis had revealed that same fact to you, you didn’t even care.

“We sent you to simply try and catch his son in the act. To give us any kind of proof of illegal activity. Only to realize too late we had put you in that monster’s hands!” Merlwyb sobs, clutching your hands within her own. “When I had said that you must protect the mission at any cost, I never meant that you had to bear Varis’ child. That you would have to accept him forcing himself upon you.”

Eyes widening as you see the cause of her grief, you fumble to try and find your right words. “Chief, I...did the doctor,”

“The only one that knows is myself and Cid. Cid is busy preparing other avenues to try and handle Varis.” Merlwyb grumbles, over the worst of her crying. “He was appalled to learn of this, he had--”

“Please, please, stop right there.” You groan, sick at the thought of if things really had gotten to where they assumed they had. Taking a deep breath, you fix Merlwyb with a guilty look of your own. “Never would I have guessed the famed Annihilator to be a crier.” You joke weakly, watching as she seems to lighten the tiniest bit.

“Strong I may be, but I am not immune to the suffering of my officers.” She sniffs, rubbing your hands with her larger ones.

Looking at your hands joined together in your lap, you struggle on what to say next. “While I’m...glad you feel such concern with me...things didn’t get that far. Not with Varis.”

Brows furrowing, Merlwyb shifts closer to you in her seat. “What do you mean?”

Breathing deeply, you try to get everything out in one breath. “I will not deny it. What led to me being locked away was actually due to Varis trying to force himself on me.” Saying it nearly makes you throw up, tilting your head back as you take calming breaths. “He had drugged me with a substance mixed with aether rendering me unable to move. If his right hand man hadn’t shown up when he did...then he would have--” You nearly throw up again, having to keep the bile down as your body breaks out in a cold sweat.

“You don’t have to talk about this.” Merlwyb consoles, rubbing your back gently.

“No. Because I need to...I need to explain.” You sigh, feeling weary already. “What I’m trying to say is, Varis only tried to force himself on me before he locked me away. And...if my math is right, I should be a month or two along.” Placing a hand on your stomach, you rub it gently. “It’s not his.”

A mix of relief and worry passes through Merlwyb’s face, standing to her feet. “Thank the Twelve it isn’t so. I must tell Cid,”

“It’s Zenos’.” you cut off before she can even leave your side.

She stops in place immediately, shocked by your words as much as you are having said them. To put out in the universe you are carrying the child of someone you once thought a monster.

“Honey…” she whispers, sitting by your side once more. “Honey, did he,”

Shaking your head furiously, you refuse to meet her surely judgemental gaze. “No. I...it was consensual. Multiple times. I…” swallowing your fear, you press on. “I was so stressed from working for Varis, my health suffered. I stopped taking supplements, vitamins, and my birth control. I had met with Zenos that day when Raubahn died and one thing led to another.”

As tears leak from your eyes as you finally give voice to your shame, you still cannot bear to face her scorn. “I tried to hate him. I tried to hate him for so long, but he…” you sob, wiping furiously at your tears, “he’s the only one that understands me. The only one who’s strong enough, the only one who makes me happy. I didn’t even blink when Varis told me I was pregnant with his kid, I didn’t even feel sad. How fucked up am I for falling for him?!” You laugh, the sound broken and mangled. “I’m a failure to the mission, Raubahn would be ashamed--”

Merlwyb crushes you in her arms, ceasing your downward spiral. She says nothing, merely holding you tightly as your tears catch in her shirt, clutching you tight as she buries her face in your hair. “Honey...no matter what I better not hear such self deprecating language from you ever again.” She whispers, stroking your head softly. “Raubahn would be proud. You’ve survived. You are alive. And that’s all we ever wanted. For you to come home.”

“But I--”

“No ‘buts’.” She interjects, pulling away to give you the stern look you had known her for. “Not to throw him under the bus, but Cid had already filled me in on your entanglement with his bodyguard and Zenos respectively. I can’t lie that at first I was alarmed, but when he recounted all the trauma he had known you had gone through, how he could see you warp and change...I could not think to hold it against you. And neither would Raubahn.”

You weep thankful tears at her words, a weight lifted from your shoulders at her comfort. You embrace each other once more, wrapping yourself in the comfort of simply being held, knowing you both have been through the wringer these past few days.

Merlwyb notices your eyes begin to droop, promising to see you again when you wake up next. She would go off to find Cid and relay what you had told her in a calmer, less emotional fashion, sparing you the risk of potentially triggering yourself. You allow yourself a few more hours rest, drifting thoughtlessly as you have the most restful sleep you had in what had apparently been weeks.

Two weeks had Varis managed to stow you away, Cid and Merlwyb knowing something was wrong when they hadn’t heard hide or hair of you in two days. The phone Cid had given you had been confiscated and destroyed, giving them no idea on how to find you. They had been sick with worry with no way to find out what happened until Zenos had showed up on Cid’s doorstep in the dead of night, demanding that you be saved. Cid had immediately called for his personal doctor to begin treating you, bringing you to the present.

Even while you rest, your thoughts are too tumultuous to let you sleep long, the steady drip of your IV and the light buzz of the alarm clock on your nightstand your only companions when you wake. It is a few hours past midnight, the mansion quiet, but in a good way unlike the Galvus estate. There’s just enough white noise in the halls that gives a comfortable ambience, a home that is lived in, prompting you to drag yourself out of bed and into some slippers to walk a bit to maybe tire your mind a bit to go back to sleep.

Forced to drag your IV pump around with you, you shuffle down the hall, enjoying the peace as you let your feet aimlessly wander. Though you know Cid was prone to all nighters if he was knee deep in a project, something tells you he’s fast asleep. Making your way downstairs you enjoy the calm of his mansion at night, slipping past the many doors as you struggle to not bump your shin into any unsuspecting furniture.

As you pass through the living room, you hear grunting, looking through one of the many floor to ceiling windows to spot Zenos outside, running through his practice routines. His golden hair now looks to be made of spun ivory under the moonlight, muscles flexing with every movement as he swings his sword through the air. Each strike is precise, measured as he hones his skill, a fierce determination on his face as he snarls his frustration.

Heading to the sliding door, you gently push it open, the warm night air soothing you instantly as you stand in the doorway, watching him quietly. You’re surprised he’s yet to notice your presence, too focused on whatever he’s thinking about to catch you watching him. Leaning against the doorframe, you’re content to watch how his body flows effortlessly through each stance, dressed in his usual workout attire, clinging to him like a second skin.

It is only when he spins does he take note of you at the door, uncharacteristically startled before a shadow of guilt darkens his features. Frowning, you move to join him in the yard only for him to give you a look that promises retribution if you move from your spot at the door. “What are you doing here?”

Tutting, you stand up straight. “From what I heard, you brought me here.”

“That’s not what I,” he pauses, turning away from you for a moment. “I meant what are you doing outside? You should be inside, resting.”

“I was trying,” you grumble, stepping out onto the manicured grass, dragging the IV pump along uneven ground. He turns to you once more, unable to meet your eyes. “I couldn’t sleep, probably because I had spent the past two weeks being made to sleep. My body’s quite sick of it, I think.” You joke lightly, coming to stand before him.

He still won’t meet your gaze, which is strange in and of itself. Creeping closer, he shifts away and you frown, trying to peek under his fringe of hair. “Zenos? What’s the matter?” you ask, reaching out for his hand but he jerks it away.

“What do you want?” he snarls, eyes furious. Though you begin to get angry, you take a step back and look at the situation. Though your memories are hazy, you can remember his desperation to get you out of that facility. His worry at seeing you look so frail and weak. The guilt you had seen once he had realized you were there--

He was scared.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you can’t help but laugh a little at how he casts his sword to the ground while reaching to catch you in the same motion, uncaring of where his blade ends up. “I’m not dying, Zenos. I’m not falling apart.” you sigh wistfully, motioning to the ground for him to sit next to you.

Pursing his lips, he seems to debate between picking you up and carrying you back inside, versus giving into your whims. “You’ve not seen the horrors of my father’s experiments.” He answers instead, lowering himself to the cool grass to your side, one knee bent with the other leg extended before him. You relish in his slight intake of breath as you shuffle to be closer to him, leaning upon his warmth. It’s not too cool out, but the furnace that is his body isn’t unpleasant. “But I suppose for that, I am thankful.”

“I’ve not. And I’m glad I didn’t.” you murmur, relaxing immediately from his presence alone.

The two of you are quiet, Zenos stiff as if he does not know what to do with this nearness from you. “I...I’m glad I had found you in the condition I had. I had feared the worst.” he admits, which coming from him, is no small feat.

Gazing up at the moon, you rest your weight fully upon him, his arm naturally coming to support you and hold you close, almost as if on instinct. His hand seems unsure where to place itself, so you help by gently coaxing it to sling around your waist, linking your fingers with his. “He had told me so many horrible things. He told me how awfully he would treat you.” you murmur, satisfied to stay just like this.

“What did he tell you?”

His voice is guarded, cornered. Scared.

“He told me...that he forced himself on your mother.” You answer, unable to look him in the face.

He tenses then, skin heating before you tighten your grip on his hand, hearing his deep breaths behind you as he calms himself down. “The story the public knows is that my mother passed away due to sickness. Only a select few know the truth.” His voice is far away, distant, as if lost within a nightmare. “After all, it’s not really palatable to have it leak out that your father had threatened to have your mother killed if she tried to run. That when she felt she had no option left, she had killed herself.”

Gasping, you turn in his arms to look at him, finding nothing but an emotionless gaze staring back. You can see the truth in his eyes, a pain so guarded and so deep that you wonder if this is the first time he’s told anyone else. “Zenos,”

“After all, wouldn’t you do the same? Would you not burst into hysterics upon looking at the child you not only had forced upon you, but were also forced to bear?” he laughs humorlessly, as if the joke is tired and worn out, the punchline having lost its kick.

You wonder if he can hear your heart breaking.

“Zenos,” you whisper carefully, reaching with both hands to cup his face, feeling its warmth but a cold expression is all you get in return.

“I do not need your pity.” he snips, though he makes no move to push you away. “I’ve had my share of it. And for what? It would not bring my mother back. Not that she would want to stay anyway. Not when she gave birth to a monster.”

Tears pool in your eyes at his words, wondering how much he had of this locked up inside, and for how long?

How long had he not known love?

One of his hands reaches up to dab at a tear trailing down your cheek, frowning as he does so. “Why do you cry? I told you I didn’t want your pity.”

“I’m crying for you.” You murmur, turning in his hold to be on your knees, crowding closer to where he parts his legs more to give you room to sit between them. “Because you’ve not had the chance to do it for yourself.”

His lips part at that, emotions of all kinds warring on his face before he settles on anger. “You are a fool if you think that would change things.”

“I’m not trying to change things you idiot!” you whisper harshly, not wanting to yell and potentially wake anyone up. “You come and save me from being experimented upon by your father until I die and you don’t want me to show you I’m at least a little grateful? When I had started to believe that no one would come for me and you carried me out in your arms?”

“Sweet words won’t excuse your cowardice.” he growls, trying to pull away. “That even after you apologized, you had gone running back into my father’s arms.”

“For you!” You snap, clutching his face desperately.

Confused, he shakes his head. “What do you--”

“You think I would go back to the asshole willingly?” you seethe, begging him to understand. “That me, a cop, would want anything to do with his desire to be a dictator? To remember the good ole days of imperial rule?” Despite your earlier reservations, you raise your voice with every question. “Do you know how much it hurt to be apart from you? To see the betrayal in your eyes as I left your side for no other reason than to try and take your father down so you would be free from his influence? To fall for you--”

Your words catch in your throat, unable to take them back. The two of you only stare at one another, wide eyed and frozen as your unsaid words hang between you, wishing you could simply disappear. Zenos is solid as a board and your heart sinks, releasing his face as you begin to stand. “I should get back inside,”

He pulls you back to him forcefully, not letting you flee back to the safety of your room. You try to tug away but you’re still too weak to fight against his might, huffing and puffing for him to release you as you try to run from the shame of your actions. “Let go of me,” you whine, resisting his touch as he wraps his arm around you like a vice, refusing to let you go anywhere.

The rough pads of his fingers urge you to face him as you squirm in his arms, not wanting to face him, to face your feelings. “Honey.” He breathes, finally getting you at a suitable angle to press his lips to yours, ashamed at how easily you melt in his arms. He deepens the kiss, full of all the passion, the emotion you now know he’s capable of, threading his fingers into your hair as you rest your hands upon his chest before looping around his shoulders.

The kiss is all passion, all affection, all possession as your tongues dance together, as teeth nibble each other's lips, as you breathe each other's air. You fall into him just as easily as you did the first time, wondering how on earth did you get here? It is only when he feels you crying again does he pull apart, dabbing gently at your tears with an indescribable emotion upon his angelic features.

“You would run because you’re afraid of what you feel for me?” he asks, holding you as if you were made of the most delicate glass. The same man who had no problem flipping you over his back, grappling you like a wrestler, was now cradling you as if you were the most important thing in the world to him. “I have never run from how I feel for you, even if I cannot understand it. I have only wanted you. It can only be you.”

“You don’t get it!” You sob, pounding your fists on his chest. “I love you, you idiot! I was sent to try and take you and your father down and look where I am! I fell for you instead, I’m having your ch--” you stop yourself once again, afraid of what he would possibly think.

“I do not know love but I do know I would have no other. Is that not good enough?” he asks, desperate to understand, and Twelve above you wish he did. Perhaps he loves you in his own way, but there’s so much of him that needs healing, so many bad habits he needs to break before you could truly be by his side. It occurs to you only now that you looked at him through rose-tinted glasses, seeing nothing but the happiness he brought you, and you alone.

A child brings new questions into the mix.

Would he treat the child the same way he treated you? Would he fall into the bad habits of his father, having no good example of how to be a parent? Continuing a cycle of abuse because he had never known love? Would he train that child for the sole purpose of becoming stronger, unsatisfied until either of them fell in battle?

Deep down you knew you were being foolish, but fear overcame reason as you kept your eyes shut tight, crying against his chest as he held you. It was such an irrational fear, one you were completely self aware of, but that did not stop you from crying, nor did it stop you from falling into his embrace as he kissed you once more.

You are no stranger to Zenos’ touch, though you are a stranger to how gently he treats you as you recover from being detained by Varis. Only with your permission do you allow him to visit, except visitation is not satisfactory. He all but moves into your room, seeing to your needs during the day until he goes about his own business before returning to you at night. He’s always there to bring you your meals, sitting in comfortable silence or making light conversation, making you remember just how much you loved him, until he reminded you just how much you needed to run away when this was all over.

You only wish he knew how hard he was making it for you.

There wasn’t a need of yours that wasn’t seen to by Zenos personally. Whatever you wanted to eat, he went and got it. If you wanted to walk around, he was the one to pull your IV pump along, leaving you free to simply stretch your legs. From fluffing your pillow to simply being a warm body to hold at night, there was nothing he would not do for your sake.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

As you recuperated and strength once again flowed through your limbs, he turned into your physical therapist, helping you stretch your muscles and make you limber enough to fight again. He would only spar lightly at your request, making you feign exhaustion so he didn’t feel angry for making himself hold back. Naturally you made sure to avoid all blows to your abdominal area, flowing like water around his strikes, taking a more defensive approach, which you thought would make him angry.

It had the opposite effect. It seemed to only make him want you more, pursuing you like a man possessed, fucking you into the floor until your voice was hoarse from crying out his name.

This is how I got here in the first place, you grumble to yourself, walking with him to meet up with Cid and Merlwyb on another part of the estate. There was hardly a day he was not by your side, something you did not mind after spending so long apart, but you began to think it strange considering the circumstances. Varis had to be wondering where he was. But if Zenos was not worried, you figured you shouldn’t be either.

Reaching the conference room turned “briefing room”, you give a small wave to Cid and Merlwyb who greet you in return. “You’re looking better by the day, Honey. I’m glad to see you’re making a recovery.” Cid welcomes, standing from his chair to come give you a hug. You return it with equal measure, glad to have people on your side. “Please sit. We haven’t been waiting long.”

Nodding, you pull a chair out from the table, not at all surprised as Zenos takes a seat in the one directly next to you. “I’m sorry to delay everything for so long.”

“Your recovery was paramount, Honey.” Merlwyb speaks up, giving you a serious look. “You have shouldered so much of this upon your back. There is no way we could ask you to put your life on the line anymore than we already have.”

“But I want to. I want to take him down.” You insist, refusing to take no for an answer. Merlwyb looks ready to argue but Cid quickly interjects, physically leaning between the two of you.

“Easy there, ladies. We’ve got a common goal, and let’s just look at the facts before we start making plans.” Cid offers in the interest of neutrality, slowly sitting back down in his chair. “We’ve got quite a bit of information to catch Honey up on anyway.” He sighs, reaching for a remote and turning on the mounted TV. The screen is paused with Varis’ face on it, a news ticker reading “Varis Unveils Revolutionary Technology”, your heart immediately sinking.

“This has been on the news for nearly two weeks. Yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking. Varis has revealed his ‘discovery’ of aether upon your capture.” Cid grounds out, clicking on the remote to start the clip. It is silent, but the clip continues to play, allowing Cid to speak. “It’s been a nightmare since. I’ve been called by more news outlets than I care to remember asking for my response.”

Sadness creeps into his features as he watches the TV with a forlorn expression. “As I had told you, my father’s laboratory had burned down, leaving me with no physical proof that it was he who originally discovered aether. All I have is my word against his ‘proof’.” Banging his fist against the table, he runs his hands through his hair. “It’s infuriating.”

Clicking the remote a different press conference plays on the TV, Varis showing off different bits of technology powered by aether. "He's got the public in the palm of his hand. Everyone's dazzled by the power of aether, but of course only we know the truth. We know that aether is not to be messed with, that it is dangerous and more powerful than we could possibly comprehend." Cid explains, tapping his fingers against the table. "I've considered trying to make my own sample, to show what a volatile resource it is…"

"We already discussed this Cid. Absolutely not." Merlwyb interjects. Their interaction comes as a slight surprise. Merlwyb was Cid’s senior by barely a decade, but within the past month they became fast friends. "Varis has already tried to take your life once and is already so sure of his victory that he's content to leave you alone for now. Let's not give him reason to try and take you out."

Nodding grimly, Cid turns back to you. "As you can see, we've got our hands tied. Varis is, if anything thorough, making it hard to plan any sort of move. We're running out of time."

Gnawing your lip, you find yourself focusing on what Merlwyb had said. "If...do you think he would try and target Lord Hien?" The room is completely silent, and you don’t know if it’s because they find the notion preposterous, or they wonder how the thought has never crossed their mind. “I mean, clearly Varis has to think he’s nigh untouchable now. He’s attempted to kill Cid once without facing any consequences. He successfully killed Raubahn and forced Merlwyb into hiding. Don’t you think…?”

Cid drags his hands over his face, heaving out a dry laugh. “Nymeia save me, I think you might be onto something.”

“But Cid, why would he need to kill Hien? The election is so close, he’s already done so much to make himself look like the ideal candidate. What more could killing Hien do for him?” Merlwyb questions, posing some good points.

“An easy win.”

The three of you turn to Zenos who has remained uncharacteristically quiet this entire exchange. “Honey has been around my father long enough by now to understand how he thinks. However, as his son,” he grounds out, “I have intimate knowledge of how his mind works.” Shifting in his seat, he sighs. “Before he had stopped telling me of his plans, he thought himself untouchable; he had evaded you all for decades.” He explains, looking pointedly at Merlwyb before his gaze shifts to Cid. “And the only one who could ever bring any evidence against him had no physical proof, nor the courage to say anything.”

Giving a frustrated sigh, Cid turns once again to the TV. “I can’t deny that. My own cowardice has allowed this to go on for as long as it has.” Cid murmurs, fidgeting with the remote in his hand.

“And if he were to kill Hien, who could stop him?” Zenos asks, glancing around the table. “The Chief has been killed, and the only other ‘good cop’ remains hidden for her own safety. Who is next in command to take Raubahn Aldynn’s place?”

You gasp, turning to Zenos. “Ilberd.”

Shrugging, the heir goes back to looking bored once again. “With his longtime supporter at the head of police, it would be no problem to have Hien’s death look like nothing more than an accident even if he shot him point blank on national television.”

“Twelve above…” Merlwyb whispers, burying her face in her hand. “Decades worth of planning. Decades worth of moves. I had always suspected Ilberd, but on this large a scale…” Gasping, her eyes widened in horror. “By the Twelve, he has the entire police force under his control. If he wins the seat, he would have an entire army--”

The room is silent once again, the three of you processing the scope of Varis’ plans. When he boasted of his intellect, you had thought little of it, knowing that like any businessman he was educated, but to be so thorough, to make the right connections, to plan this far ahead…

Clenching your fist, you stand to your feet. “We have to save Lord Hien.”

“I don’t disagree, but--”

“But what, Chief Merlwyb? I refuse to have another person die because of that bastard!” Your chest is heaving, Cid looking surprised at your outburst while Merlwyb maintains her composure, giving you a knowing look.

“Honey, please calm down.” She urges, reaching across the table to place her hand atop of your own. Something silent passes between the two of you and you take a few calming breaths, sitting back in your seat. “If you will allow me to finish, what I was trying to say is that this is not something we can go into guns blazing. We are dealing with a man who knows how to run circles around the law; this I know well. We will have to make a plan that is fool proof and draws no attention to us.” Her eyes turn to the heir sitting by your side. “Especially now that we’ve got his son on our side.”

At that Zenos fixes Merlwyb with a hot glare. “And where did you get the notion that I would be assisting you in any way, shape, or form?” Zenos asks, his voice even and neutral, but you can see the rage within his eyes.

“If you are not helping us, then why have you stayed here, Zenos?” Cid asks sternly.

“Is it not obvious?” Zenos scoffs, eyes upon you. “My only focus has been, and always will be Honey. But even then…” Something haunting passes through his eyes, seeming far away before coming back to the present. “...even then I could not aid you. I cannot go against my father, but I will no longer aid him either.” Standing to his feet, he prepares to leave but you snag his hand, giving him a pleading look.

“Zenos...I,” you begin, unsure what to say. “We could use your help.”

Shaking his head, he tugs his hand free and continues on his way, saying nothing else. Your heart breaks that much more to see him go.

Stewing in your thoughts a bit, you find yourself a bit hurt at Zenos’ refusal to take down his father, but try to think about it calmly. Given what he revealed to you, that his own mother did not want him, saw him as a monster, who knows what psychological damage had been done to him to make him unwilling to raise a hand against his father?

You’d make a point to ask him about it later, but for the time being, you needed to make a plan. “We’ll have to carry on without Zenos. He’s not against us, which is almost the same as being on our side. Trust me...if Zenos did truly serve his father and Varis had kept me hidden, the only being who can take Zenos down, Varis truly would be unstoppable.” Cid and Merlwyb nod grimly at your words, having no other choice. “Do we have any way of contacting Lord Hien?”

“I have his number due to working with him for the...rally. The only problem is he’s surely seen my funeral and thinks me dead.” Merlwyb answers, flipping through her phone.

“In that case, perhaps Cid can give a call, especially since he has the technology to make sure it isn’t tampered with.” You direct, having taken the lead. “We’ll call Lord Hien and apprise him of as much information as we can. If I have to go in and make the rescue myself, then so be it.”

“Absolutely not.” Cid interjects, eyebrows pinched together. “I will not have you shouldering this entire operation again. Besides, if you’re not familiar with Lord Hien, he’s got an excellent shadow of his own I hear. Yugiri, I believe her name is. What she lacks in your sheer strength she more than makes up for in stealth. In fact, she just might be our ticket to get Lord Hien to safety.”

Unfortunately, Lord Hien has other plans.

Cid contacts Hien as promised, relaying as much information in as little time as possible. Lord Hien expresses his concern and guilt for the recent happenings, and due to the credibility of your accusations, hears you out.

However, he will not escape.

“But Lord Hien,”

The three of you are seated in the same conference room, staring at the TV screen where current Kugane Prime Minister, Lord Hien sits staring back.

“I understand your concern, Mr. Garlond,” Hien pauses, handsome face deadly serious. “But this would be a terrible time to abandon the public. I would go as far to say that my sudden disappearance would only usher Varis into his seat faster.”

Biting your lip, you can’t deny he’s right, but still you worry. “But we can’t let him get to you either!”

“Do not worry for me, my friends.” Hien smiles, as if all will be well. “I did not say I won’t take safety measures. I will remain out of the public eye, and stay hidden with those who I know are loyal to me. These past few years as Prime Minister have allowed me the opportunity to gain many allies.” Hien explains calmly, pausing to take a sip of water. “This will also allow me to help you behind the scenes as well.”

“While we appreciate your aid, Lord Hien, this entire operation is contingent on you living. Will you not reconsider coming into our custody where we know we can protect you?” Merlwyb asks, sounding as strong as ever.

“The operation does not revolve around me, my friends. It revolves around Varis atoning for the crimes he has committed against the people.” Hien frowns, threading his hands together. “He has murdered civilians he is desperate to rule over. Lied and stolen from his constituents. While Kugane needs a good leader, yes, it does not have to be me.” Smiling, something about him makes you wish you knew that kind of calm. “While I appreciate that you want me to remain in my seat, what matters most is his crimes coming to light and being locked away for what he’s done.”

Unable to argue against that kind of logic, you merely stand from your seat. “I understand. I need a moment of rest, so if you will excuse me.”

Not stopping to hear what anyone has to say, you flee from the room, allowing your feet to carry you anywhere within the estate.

Lord Hien either put too much faith in you, or he was a fool.

His certainty that all would be well, that things would work out, where did it come from? You could see his appeal, a confident, easy going charisma backed by an unwavering sense of justice, of doing right by the people. All the things that Varis lacked, that would make Hien the ideal candidate for Kugane.

But he was right. No matter how ideal he was, what mattered most was making sure Varis did not come into power. Even if it meant Hien somehow died in the process.

It was a tough pill to swallow, that Lord Hien was so okay with being a willing target so long as Varis was brought to justice. It made you feel as if his life was in your hands, a deeper part of you whispering to trust in his words, that he would do his best to keep himself safe.

Coming to a stop to a door leading outside, you step out into warm, summer air, feeling the grass between your toes. Days like these did wonder for your mood, making sure you made a point to keep as much stress off of you as possible. With everything going on, it was hard to do, but Merlwyb had aided in that department, making sure you kept your temper in check for the sake of the child growing inside of you.

The thought of getting rid of it had occurred to you more than once, to simply rid yourself of all the “what ifs” and “maybes” and be done with it. But each time you did, you found yourself weakened by the thought of being able to give your child everything you didn’t have. To raise her with the same love and adoration in which Minfilia had raised you.

When this was all said and done, you would have plenty of time to make your escape. Perhaps you would flee to Eorzea, make a new life and name for yourself there. You doubt Zenos would care enough to spend time to track you down on another continent, making it the ideal place to start anew. You could get a new home. You could find a new job.

You could continue running away from the best thing to ever happen to you.

[sparrowwritings]

Final Fantasy Writing Challenge Day Sixteen: Salt

Day Fifteen -- Masterpost -- Day Seventeen

“You mean to tell me that part of what helped you guys secure a whole country from the empire is...a place that makes salt.” Gwyneth tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “That sounds fake.”

“No for real, we really had to secure the Saltery to help with Ala Mhigo!” Roger exclaimed with not a small amount of arm waving. He could see a couple of Crystarium field workers who gave him an odd look, but once they realized who he was they shrugged and moved on. 

Being known as an associate of the Crystal Exarch had its benefits. Like being able to talk to “thin air” without people asking too many questions.

“But why?” Gwyn went on while he was distracted. “Salt’s good for preserving food and such, yeah, but why would having a hold of it help stabilize a war torn country?” A part of her long brown hair got in her face and she tucked it behind an ear automatically. 

Roger shrugged. “I dunno, it was something Nanamo and Lolorito talked a lot about. Political stuff, I guess.” 

Not for the first time in this conversation, she groaned. “I wish you’d have paid more attention. Or that you’d at least skip to the good parts like fighting that Zenos guy.”

He shuddered. “That...no part of fighting Zenos was ever ‘good.’ He’s a real monster…”

“Well yeah, since he beat you and Lara pretty handily that first time you met him.”

“No, well not just that but--ugh.” Roger ran a hand over his face. “How do I...okay, you and your friends fought a lot of things here before you came to the Source, right?”

“Right.” Gwyn tilted her head again, this time with an eyebrow raised.

“So picture the hardest, meanest thing you ever thought.” He waited until she had her eyes closed to keep going. “Something so big and bad that even mentioning the name would make the people suffering under it change the subject for fear of it showing up.” Gwyneth’s brow furrowed with her imagining. “Now picture that beast or monster as a person.” Roger’s eyes lowered to his hands as they clenched with memory. “Someone who could look and act like anyone else, but is instead...doesn’t care about the pain he causes. All he cares about is his own pleasure, and he only takes pleasure in fighting.” 

He looked up in time to watch a shiver run up her spine and cause her to duck her head in. The sudden movement had caused her hair to fall entirely in her face. If the subject wasn’t so serious, Roger would find it kind of funny. “No wonder you don’t like talking about him…” Gwyn muttered. 

“You wanna know the worst part of all that?”

She looked at him more warily than she’d ever done before. “...what’s the worst part.”

“He’s Emet-Selch’s great-grandson.”

If she was able to interact with anything physically, a fly definitely would have been able to make a landing in her throat. “...You’re kidding.”

“It’s the full truth. Lara explained it to me when he first showed up here. Emet-Selch was Solus zos Galvus. His grandson, Varis zos Galvus is the current emperor and his son is Zenos.” 

“Seven hells.”

“Right?!” 

“So one of the monsters that keeps tampering with everything is also directly blood related to the monster that you and Lara had to fight to save two countries.” 

“Yeah!”

Gwyneth rubbed at her temples. “Hey, remember when we tried to see who had the most messed up things happen in their lives?”

Roger nodded. “We had to stop because Lara said it was too depressing.”

“I think you win.”

“I dunno, I haven’t even gotten into how actually weird he is…” He made a disgusted face.

“I don’t think I *want* to know going by that look.”

“Honestly I really don’t want to go over that anyway.”

“Good.” She paused and pondered what to ask next. “So you secured the Saltery...what happened next?”

“Oh! Well not long after that…”

The two conversed until Roger was called away. He always found it weird that Ardbert liked to disappear on Lara so often. Gwyneth tended to stick around until they’d had a full conversation.

He wondered if it would ever be okay for him to ask her about her brother like that.

[kunstpause-archive]

FFXIV Write Prompt #12: Tooth and Nail

It was still dark outside as Thea slowly made her way through the mostly unfamiliar room. It wasn’t actually cold, but the nightly winds in Ala Mhigo had a certain, sharp quality to them that was just enough to not be entirely comfortable.

She had wrapped a thin sheet around her, to keep the slight chill that came through the open windows at bay, as she lit a small candle. 

There hadn’t been any time for her to take in her surroundings earlier that evening. All she had noticed was, that the chambers she was in were opulently furnished in traditional, Ala Mhigan styles. Decorative, intricately woven tapestries adorned the walls. As Thea quietly walked around, trying to see as much as she could in the dim light the candle gave her, she noticed that, while everything was meticulously decorated and placed, there seemed to be next to no personal touch to anything. Nothing looked like it was regularly used. The entire room felt like there was no one actually living in it. The armor stand in one corner, and an elaborate display of several swords seemed to be the only things she could see, that actually seemed to belong to Zenos. 

That was until she passed through the doorway into the connected side room and came to halt in front of the books. Carefully she raised up her light, looking around this entirely different room, taking it all in. It was what looked like a small library. Tall bookshelves filled every single bit of wall-space, reaching up high to the ceilings. There was a table to the side that was littered with books, some lying open, many having more than one bookmark poking out of them. A pair of reading glasses sat on top of another pile on the desk, accompanied by what looked like a mug of tea gone cold.

In the same corner, safely behind glass, there was a small oil lamp still burning. Like someone had forgotten to turn it off as they left this place in a hurry. 

To go looking for an intruder, Althea thought to herself as she kept looking around. This room felt so decidedly different from the rest of his chambers, it was nearly incomprehensible. But only nearly. Dimly, she remembered the stories from back home. About the crown prince who never showed his face in public. Who couldn’t be bothered to attend official functions and the gossipy voices of the people claiming that he rarely ever left the royal library. 

Curiously, Thea walked along the bookshelves, running her hand over the fascinatingly varied arsenal of volumes. She tried to make sense of it, but as she read over the titles, she couldn’t discern a system of order behind it all. From war tactics to poetry, history books to a manual on herbal remedies specific to Orthand, and even children’s books, the shelves seemed to be in no particular order.

“How does he find anything in here?” she mumbled quietly.

“By remembering where I put it,” came his answer from behind her, and Althea nearly dropped the candle in surprise as she turned around. 

Zenos stood in the doorway, wearing only a loose pair of pants as he watched her with curious eyes. His long hair fell openly over his shoulders and chest, only partially hiding the cuts and scratches she had inflicted on him earlier and Althea swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of her own skin looking much the same under the sheet. If she listened closely to herself, she could feel the dull pull of freshly closed cuts and blooming bruises quiver in tune with her own heartbeat.

“If you are looking for your weapon, it is in the sitting room, right there on the table,” Zenos added at that moment, inclining his head with a raised eyebrow and Thea swallowed once again. She hadn’t even been looking for it when it would have been the smart thing to do that first thing after she had gotten up. But somehow, the room she stood in was far more interesting than her missing chakram.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding so overly polite that her own voice felt out of place to her. “But I was just…” she looked around the room, trying to find an explanation why it held her attention so much.

“Not one for sleep?” Zenos mused, looking the slightest bit intrigued at her behavior. 

Althea shrugged in an attempt to look more casual. He had a way about him that caught her off-guard far too many times. Just for once, she would prefer to keep her calm around him. “I bore easily,” she said simply before her eyes went to the bookshelves again. 

“Anything catching your fancy?” he asked, sounding just as polite and laid back as she did. Althea wasn’t sure if they were playing a game or if, by some strange occurrence, for once neither of them was. 

“I can’t tell, there is no way of finding anything in here.” Again, her attention was caught by the shelves. As if there was something there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on yet. Hidden in plain sight. 

Zenos chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver down her back with how new it was. How different it sounded from everything she heard from him before. “There is a system,” he insisted. “Trust me.”

“So, there is something you do, except fighting all day after all,” Althea said lightly, and the half-smile on his face – like the chuckle before – felt so very different from the smiles she had seen before, it was mesmerizing to watch as he shrugged. “I bore easily,” he quoted her earlier reply with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

And suddenly, as Thea looked once again, she saw what she had noticed before in the back of her mind. Her frown slowly melted away and gave way to a smile. It was in the spines of the books. From the far end of the room to the shelves near the reading table, the change was subtle, but once she was aware of it, she couldn’t unsee it. He did have a system, indeed. The books were sorted by how often he had read each one of them. 

Following a hunch she went up to the desk, placing the candle-holder down carefully, before reaching for the shelf that was closest. Her fingertips brushed over well-worn leather, feeling each crack in the spine as she pulled out a small volume. The moment she saw what it was, she knew that what she held in her hands was his favorite book.  

“Fairy tales…” Thea said softly. She could hear him shift slightly behind her before his equally quiet voice came.

“I always found them… more compelling than everything else,” he said simply. “More vivid, more real…”

“Describing what life was supposed to be, instead of the dull grey mass that we get,” she finished the bit he was quoting, and her eyes flickered to the cover of the book she still held. She knew this particular story only all too well. A tale of a young child that wanted to experience the world but could only ever see it in black and white. A story about their journey to find the color everyone else kept talking about. It had always been a bittersweet story for her, amplified by the tale leaving it open, whether the hero found the color at last, or simply learned to see the beauty in the grey. “My mother used to read this to me,” she said finally. 

“Your mother?” There was a clear hint of confusion in his voice and Althea couldn’t blame him for it. She would be hard-pressed to imagine a village full of wood-dwelling Viera reading their children imperial bedtime stories as well.

“My adoptive mother,” she clarified. As different as they had been, thoughts of her parents – her real parents – the people who had taken her in without reservation and had raised her as their own, never once making her feel like she didn’t belong, always put a small smile on her face. A smile and a dull tug of pain at their loss. No matter how much further the Calamity sank into the past, the sense of loss never really lightened. 

Althea shook off the gloomy thoughts, focusing on the things that made her smile instead. “It was one of her favorite stories as well, I think,” she mused. “We had a very passionate fight about the ending when I was about seven.” Her hand smoothed over the worn cover, as she followed the letters imprinted on it with her fingertips. “My mother was convinced there was only one true ending, that the moral of the story was, that you have to grow up to accept the world as it is – and then you will find happiness in it.”

While she talked, Zenos stepped closer, coming up behind her until he could look over her shoulder. “If you fought her on this I suspect that seven-year-old you thought the exact opposite,” he said, and his warm breath on her neck sent a pleasant shudder down her back.

“I was furious that she even wanted me to consider that claim,” Thea said, a rush of old, long-forgotten fondness going through her at the memory. “I fought her tooth and nail on this, until my father intervened, making us agree to disagree.” With a last fond look at the book, she carefully placed it back in its designated spot.

A moment later, Zenos’ warm hands were on her shoulders, drawing her back against him. It felt decidedly different than everything that had happened between them before. Softer. Nearly unbearably so, Thea thought as he asked, “And what do you think today?”

Althea didn’t answer. Not out loud at least. There was something there between them, something just like this library. Something she could almost see. Hidden in plain sight, ready for her to discover if she only looked long enough and she let herself relax against him, shifting slightly until the sheet around her fell open in the front. An image from earlier that night was vividly on her mind. Of him, looking down at her with red-stained lips, and Thea turned around, the sheet falling to the floor forgotten as she pressed herself against his warm, naked chest. 

She looked up with the knowledge that she still believed as fiercely as she did when she was seven years old. That she could never stop looking for color in her life. And as her hand snuck around his neck, drawing him down into a kiss that was smoldering with red, hot, heat she thought she just might have an idea of where to look.

[sweetsweetnathan]

The Imperial Dialogues #4: A Report on the Witch of Doma

"To my friend Varis, Emperor of Garlemald,

I find it extremely unlikely that this letter will ever reach you. I write to you from the improbable location of another world called 'the First'. It is a place much like our own planet, but with a history even more deadly and tumultuous, if you can believe that.

The details of my arrival here are not important. I will tell you of my time in the First soon enough, but before that comes my reason for writing. I have been haunted by a memory for more than a year, and I would have it exorcised unto your judgment. Whether that be the judgment of an Emperor or the judgment of a man, that is not my choice to make. I have only to confess my sins.

You are likely familiar with the viceroy of Doma during the Garlean occupation of the same country: Yotsuyu goe Brutus. She was killed near the end of the occupation, after a Garlean diplomatic mission to Doma went seriously off the rails.

My intelligence tells me that Garlemald knows little of the circumstances behind the viceroy's death, except that she was killed by her brother Asahi. I write to tell you that is untrue. It is not a lie, simply a falsehood pieced together my misunderstanding the circumstances at hand. You see, no living Garlean was in the room at the time Yotsuyu was killed, and as such they can only guess as to what happened to her. But I can tell you exactly what happened.

The truth is, I killed Yotsuyu. And I would submit to you my full report on the matter of her death.

While I expect you know of Yotsuyu's position in your military, I do not expect you to know of her personhood. Did you know that she was a woman? Did you know that she hated her homeland, and took pleasure in seeing her people subjugated? And before you smirk and congratulate yourself for the profound cleverness it takes to expect such things: Did you know that she was sold into sexual slavery by her own family? Did you know that in the last day of her life, the only respite she found from her past a citizen of Doma was when she killed her parents and her brother?

And perhaps, Varis, you find yourself scoffing again. You, after all, have fought blood feuds with family members your whole life. And yet it is for that reason that Yotsuyu's story is remarkable to me. You see, blood feuds between siblings is generally a problem that only afflicts the ruling class of a nation. Whether it be by the divine right of royal inheritance, or the economic right to one's father's estate, only someone born into power need concern themselves with such consuming legacies as would have them kill their own brother.

That is all to say that Yotsuyu is one of the few people on this planet who can claim to stand in your mighty company, Varis, as brother killers.

But when vengeance ran its course through her body, it was not a royal inheritance or paternal estate that brought her low. It was me.

While the exact details of the situation are not terribly important, one thing you must know is that Yotsuyu had been turned into a Primal at the time I was forced to fight her. This is a detail that Garlean intelligence is unlikely to report, as very few who were privy to Yotsuyu's transformation lived to tell of it.

As you might imagine, I had help in dispatching her at this point. Capable though I may be, it was the Warrior of Light who shouldered a majority of the fight's burden. I have fought alongside the Warrior of Light before, even aiding her in dealing with other, lesser Primals. As trying as those battles are, spirits are always higher after them than before them. But not this time.

Something you should know about Primals is that they come into existence to fulfill a certain need. This can be the needs of nature, as with the elemental Primals of Titan and Ifrit. It can be a more complex idea, such as Lakshmi, a Primal of rebirth. In this case, Yotsuyu was a Primal that was meant to act as a bomb. Had she detonated, she would have taken all of Othard with her. She was Tsukuyomi, Primal of self-destruction.

There is something that only those in possession of the echo will be able to see, and even then they will only be able to see it in the presence of a wrathful Primal. In the vicinity of a Primal, reality is the Primal's plaything. All of what we perceive is essentially made of Aether, and Primals are beings borne of Aether. Within their domain they can deconstruct and reconstruct Aether at will. As such, the space a Primal occupies will become warped into an expression of that Primal's will. The Primal as a being and the Primal as the location it occupies will become one in the same. I call this effect an 'Aetheric Interference Field'. Understanding it is critical to understanding what happened to Yotsuyu.

I want to tell you what I saw when Yotsuyu, as the Primal Tsukuyomi, made with this power. I must tell you. I fear that if I carry the burden of this memory inside me for another day without sharing it, my heart may give out from the strain.

In the days leading up to her death, Yostuyu was taken care of and protected by an old samurai named Gosetsu. He was not a man I would expect one of your station to familiarize yourself with, Varis; he was a footsoldier. The kind of person that dies by the million when your army does so much as reposition itself. And very few people know it, but he is the reason why Doma is anything more than a smoking crater.

There was a moment during the fight where the power of the Primal Yotsuyu hosted seemed to leave her. She fell to the ground, an ordinary woman. But while Yotsuyu appeared as a normal person, the Aetheric Interference Field around us remained intact. The Warrior of Light and I found ourselves in the eye of a whirlwind. And from this whirlwind came shadows of Yotsuyu's past.

Her parents, recently murdered, emerged first. They were vengeful shades of their Yotsuyu's memories of them, driven by a hateful desire to punish Yotsuyu for the crime of existing. I expected them to attack me or the Warrior of Light. But instead, they attacked Yotsuyu.

How deeply rooted was this woman's hatred? Hatred for her family, hatred for her country, hatred for herself. When you contract an illness, you can feel where the illness afflicts your body. You can tell yourself 'I know whence the illness ends and my body begins'. In the eye of that hurricane, I think Yotsuyu lost her ability to separate her own hate out from that of the rest of the world. As such, the entire world became one blinding torrent of hate, out of which stepped vile monsters.

The Warrior of Light was the first to move, and I the second. We intercepted the shades and protected the Witch of Doma, for we knew not what else to do. But that was not the end of it. Next came a memory Asahi, more powerful than the ghosts of Yotsuyu's parents. In fact, he was more powerful than the real Asahi could possibly be. That is what indicated to me that these were not reanimated corpses or empowered mortals, but memories reconstructed in Aether.

As such, my heart sunk when I saw the last shade emerge from the storm: Zenos yae Galvus. A man I had fought many times before. Yet it was not a man who stood before me, but a shade of Yotsuyu's fear of that man, granted power by her perception of Zenos as an unstoppable force. Not even the combined might of the Warrior of Light and myself could affect this foe.

I thought it was over. I thought this shade of Zenos would strike down Yotsuyu, and in the process release the destructive power of Tsukuyomi, destroying Doma in the process. But I underestimated the strength of Yotsuyu.

From the very storm that borne Zenos' ghost unto our battle, a memory of Gosetsu leapt forth to protect Yotsuyu. I could not believe it. Was it the real Gosetsu? No, Gosetsu could never cross swords with Zenos and live. He was a memory, like the others, but not a hateful one. He was proof that there was kindness, patience, and forgiveness a world that had otherwise only shown Yotsuyu bitterness.

The Aetheric Interference Field brought us into Yotsuyu's heart, and there we witnessed the death throes of an oft-repeated battle: That between the absolution of hate, and the improbability of love.

Gosetsu and Zenos dueled until both lied dead. And with that, Tsukuyomi's power was expended.

I approached Yotsuyu after the battle ended. I had no illusions about saving Yotsuyu. She was far beyond anyone's healing magics. No, I wanted instead to bear witness to this woman's final moments.

She looked up at me and spoke her last words: 'What's the matter? The Witch of Doma will soon be dead."

More than a year has passed since that day, and still those words haunt me. You and I are soldiers, Varis. We know well that there is a line that you cross, and when you cross it you can't go back. It is a line between life and death. Between love and hate. Between damnation and salvation in one's own heart. It is crossed in the moment of accepting your death, and having death taken from you. It is crossed when one leans too heavily on a comrade who is not long for this world. Once you cross that line, you are no longer the person you were before. You lose faith in the meaning of your own struggles, and as such become cold to the warm feelings of this world. There is no cradle soft enough, nor embrace warm enough, to bring a person back from that despair.

But whatever lines you and I have crossed, we are in possession of a privilege that eludes most soldiers: We can still go home.

Yotsuyu has no such privilege. She was cruel, and evil, and hateful. But it did not have to be so. She was just a girl, not a soldier, yet still she crossed the line many years before she died. I can only hope that wherever she finds herself in the hereafter is a kinder place than where she was born. I hope it feels like home.

Thus concludes my report on the death of Yotsuyu goe Brutus.

-Captain Robyn Sawyer, Alliance Expeditionary Force"

[Hope you don't mind me invoking you again, @whitherliliesbloom]