I may as well put these all together in one place for easier access! Now that it's over and all. I'll do the ones that are connected stories in blue - so those you would read in order of posting. The rest don't require this. It's more of an anthology.
Day 1: Steer - Day 2: Horizon - Day 3: Tempest - Day 4: Reticent - Day 5: Stamp - Day 6: Halcyon - Day 7: Morsel - Day 8: [Free Day]
Day 9: Lend an Ear - Day 10: Stable - Day 11: Surrogate - Day 12: Quarry - Day 13: Butte - Day 14: Telling - Day 15: [Free Day]
Day 16: Third-rate - Day 17: Sally - Day 18: Hackneyed - Day 19: Taken - Day 20: Duel - Day 21: Shade - Day 22: [Free Day]
Day 23: On Cloud Nine - Day 24: Bar - Day 25: Perpetuity - Day 26: Zip - Day 27: Memory - Day 28: Deleterious - Day 29: [Free Day]
Everything was cold, white, and loud. Another wave of shattering pain rippled out from his core and Chiteni coughed, flecks of pearly white aether spattering the gaudy tiles of Vauthry's throne room. He inhaled and the breath rattled against his aching ribs as he reflexively grasped at the ground with clawed fingers so fiercely they cracked and bled, leaving thin trails on the immaculate stone tile.
Emet-Selch leaned low in front of him, the Ascian's golden eyes devoid of warmth or empathy. Chiteni couldn't entirely make out his words in the cacophony tearing its way through his ears. He tried to see if maybe he was going to attack him or…perhaps he was simply addressing him? A brilliant white light began to stain his vision, rendering shapes as simple shadows in encroaching grayscale. The color suited his enemy's eyes better, anyway. Gray. Lifeless. Emotionless. Another wave of pain as something in him shattered and he recoiled, vomiting.
He tried to take another breath but it was as though his airways were filled with shards of glass and freezing water. He coughed and grasped at the floor again. It was so cold. He could feel the chill of the Light as it ponderously dripped down his skin in place of warm blood from any cut it could find egress. Down his face from his eyes and ears, seeping from his back; the unhealed wounds he had accumulated now just an avenue for the powerful aether to exploit as he struggled to contain it. It both felt like a creature writhing inside of him and simultaneously as though he were being liquefied. His breaths were wet with it, rattling through his windpipe and strangling him. Any inhale was coated in a thick, pearlescent oil with the bitter bite of ice.
Time seemed to stretch on into eternity. Voices swam in the background, their words difficult to discern in the thick, honey-like air. Pain pulsed as an incessant drumbeat from within, and he struggled to get back up. He had to live - if he didn't survive this then who exactly would he be saving? He could feel some resistance, suddenly; as if in response. Something warm and dark blossomed in his chest - perhaps maybe someone had cast a healing spell. He tried to look around but he could only see white, his sightless eyes finding no more murky shapes in the pale. A chill settled over him like a shroud, bringing with it a relaxing numbness that the warmth threatened to disturb. He desperately tried to capture the heat, knowing the cold was death and hoping to bottle this strange feeling and hoping it might save him.
Whatever comfort he found in the warm darkness didn't last long. It tore through him suddenly, faster still than the chill; ripping its way through flesh and bone with a sickening sound no one could hear. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound issued forth from those breathless lungs. He could feel hands on his back as they ripped off the blanket of blissful numbness that had settled upon him, causing a fresh wave of agony to sear itself over his injured body. Whatever it was, the warm feeling covered him, nestling itself beneath his skin and within his injuries - just below the surface where he was most exposed after the sin eater had raked its claws down the length of him. But maybe it wasn't life after all.
“My little monster,” words in a language he did not speak yet somehow understood.
The pain was almost an afterthought to the chorus of strange sensations and discomfort. He thought he faintly heard Alisaie's voice, sobbing. The sound pierced through like a dagger. With whatever strength he had he managed to push her weakly, backing away from wherever she was now, trying desperately to keep her out of harm's way. Someone else tried to grab him, but he jerked violently and they let go. He could feel the warmth as it tried to propagate under his skin like a venom. He coughed. All at once it rushed out of him, ripping its way through muscle and flesh. There was a horrifying snapping sound he felt more than heard, forcing him to arch his back violently, the pain cutting through the writhing mass of cold and blood. Unable to stay standing he collapsed, feeling the weight as something flailed behind him, trying to pull away from his flesh. To escape. And then again: the rush and the noise, the crunching, ripping, agony….and then darkness.
◇ ◇ ◇
Ryne held Chiteni's shoulders tightly as he struggled. He was clearly delirious with the pain; pushing and shoving and lashing out at anyone who managed to get near him. Almost as if instinctively trying to protect them from himself. But after the effects of the transformation had started, he had collapsed onto the ground; the two twisted limbs that had torn their way through the fragile chrysalis Alisaie had pried from his back now flailing violently, coated in viscous pearlescent aether and knocking him off balance as they tore through his marred flesh.
Ryne clung to him tightly and his head swiveled around, as if he were trying to look behind himself while she attempted desperately to calm her fiercely beating heart. His eyes were so tightly slitted they looked like straight lines, pupils drowning in an ocean of color. She imagined Minfilia - the true Oracle of Light - the woman these people had loved who entrusted Ryne with her legacy. She froze the Flood as it threatened to consume Norvrandt.
Ryne stared intently, focusing on the Warrior of Darkness’ soul. It was cracked and sickly, pulsing bursts of brilliant Light as the energy battered itself against its prison of flesh. With every surge, Chiteni's whole body spasmed in pain, though his efforts were getting weaker with each passing second. His adamant defense was finally beaten, and he slumped onto the ground with Ryne clinging to his shoulders, the limbs that had ripped from his flesh having slowly stopped their crazed thrashing. Someone so strong mere minutes ago reduced to a cold, wheezing, broken mess of blood and aether on the marble floor.
Ryne imagined Minfilia freezing the Flood. If she could somehow do this for him then perhaps…? She pictured waves of Light as they battered against the shore. Imagined them stilling themselves slowly, as if time were coming to a crawl or a freeze was spreading over each wave faster than it could outrun it. Ryne felt the twins at her side, eagerly reaching out and trying to heal their friend. Regardless of what little potency their magicks had upon him, there was a certain peace that finally overtook the shore, and she let go of Chiteni, noting he was thankfully finally unconscious.
Thancred was at his back immediately, helping to patch up the long gashes and ignoring how the frigid Light aether burned his skin. He carefully coated the wounds with a familiar temporary wax resin that carers used on injured sin eater victims to stop their wounds from bleeding. Chiteni's breathing had become merely the whisper of a suggestion was still alive; only felt when looked for and only seen through the wisps of cold, cloudy air that escaped his lungs. His sides barely moved at all as he lay there on the white stones, and Ryne sat back with an exhausted sigh. He was finally calm, at least. She had done it. Whatever horrors awaited him, she had proved she could hold them off a bit longer.
“He looks so…small.” Alisaie's somber voice cut through the silence. Ryne finally took a moment to look around. Urianger was at her side, treating the burns the intense aether had left on the twins’ hands as they'd tried desperately to help. Ryne and Chiteni both seemed immune to the Light's cold sear, but the others were not so lucky. Chiteni was half curled in on himself, his leather coat shredded from when Vauthry's sin eaters attacked him; his exposed grayish skin covered in old scars and fresh open wounds that simply would not close. He shivered on occasion, betraying his stillness. Light aether trickled from his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth; and Ryne found it hard to tell if it was meant to be his blood or not.
But she looked at him and saw what Alisaie had meant. Chiteni had always seemed like a larger person than he was. His presence steady and strong. But seeing him crumpled onto the ground, barely alive enough to breathe; he had lost that aspect of himself, the illusion dispelled. And he looked no more powerful nor potent than any person she'd ever met. Small, fragile, vulnerable.
“What should we do about...these?” Thancred said, his eyes fixed on the strange, alien limbs that had sprouted from Chiteni's back, snapping her out of her observations. Upon inspection, Ryne finally realized they were wings - a detail she had missed in the rush trying to help him. They were massive and eerily black, though currently coated in smatterings of bright aether. She noticed them now for what they were - a trait of many sin eaters - but still wasn't sure she understood Thancred's question.
“We shall have to conceal them.” Y'shtola's voice from behind. “I will cast a glamour so that we may bring him to the Crystarium. We need supplies to treat him, and it is there we shall find them.” Her voice seemed calm and measured, but Ryne could detect a slight quaver therein.
She realized finally that the others at the Crystarium would be afraid of letting him into the city walls. The barrier was to keep sin eaters out, and those tainted by their touch were held at external outposts to keep the citizenry within safe. Yet they meant to sneak in a man with the power of five Lightwardens barely contained within. She understood their desperation - he needed medical care and they couldn't simply keep him outside. Sin eaters would be drawn to his now-unconcealed aether, and any outpost they inhabited would be quickly overrun as they congregated. Ryne could see the love they had for him as Y'shtola came over to help wash him off with a ball of water aether, discussing the plan with Thancred as the two regarded Chiteni's safety more than even their own.
“Ist thou well?” Urianger's voice snapped Ryne out of her daze. He was looking over her for any injuries, his eyes soft and comforting. “Thou hast done us all a great service, and it would be my displeasure to see if thy exertions proved overmuch.”
“I…I think I'm fine. Thank you, Urianger.” Ryne's voice shook. She hadn't realized how afraid she had been, how tightly she'd clung to him, how desperate she had been to repay him for…everything. He had snapped at her once for suggesting that perhaps she could take some of the Light; his usual reserved manner becoming angry and short. She had seen the way it weighed on him, and she thought offering her similar gift was the way she was meant to help. Seeing him lying there, she finally understood his anger. He hadn't wanted her to give up the freedom and sense of self she had only but recently gained - all to be nearly killed in service to stopping the Lightwardens. She thought she understood the weight of the burden - that perhaps helping to carry it was a kindness. Seeing what it had been doing to him, she now better understood he only meant to protect her. She hung her head. Urianger placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Thank you, Ryne.” Alphinaud's voice. She looked over at him as he held a palm over his friend. She could see the determination glittering in his blue eyes as he continued to try and heal him - vain effort though it was. She thought back to Malikah's Well; how Chiteni had brushed off Alphinaud's healing touch to keep his condition from him. Thereafter Alphinaud had never given up on trying, regardless of what his friend said or did. It only made him seem all the more determined to prove him wrong. The only time he lost the veneer of logic was when it came to his friends. He turned to look at her with a weak smile. “I thought I was...finally going to lose him.”
She could immediately tell that the true meaning of those few words carried many things he hadn't ever said aloud. “I can't make it stop forever,” she admitted finally, her words barely a whisper. Alphinaud cocked his head slightly. “This is only temporary.” Louder this time, so all could hear. She could still see faint tendrils of Light licking at the cracks and hollows in Chiteni's soul. As if they were teasing her. Delighting in the constant pain they'd cause him every waking moment - assuming he did awaken.
Alisaie was standing a few yalms away, her back towards them all. “I hear a few stragglers,” she said quietly, drawing her rapier. She walked off without another word down the mountain path, Urianger getting up to follow her.
“Mistress Alisaie and I shall ensure thy descent is clear,” he reassured them as both disappeared down the steps.
Y'shtola continued her administrations, and Thancred came to Ryne's side, handing her some gauze. “We will need to fold the wings a bit. It won't do to have them drag. I…” he paused briefly, looking at his friend for a moment. “I don't know if he can feel it but I'd rather not presume otherwise.”
Ryne nodded and joined him. Thancred took off his coat and set it aside, gently rolling his friend over and grabbing one of his massive black wings. Ryne looked at it in the light: it shone with a dark iridescence, glimmers of pinks, blues, greens, reds, and any number of colors could almost be seen beneath the dark surface. They reminded Ryne of the night sky somewhat, and she resisted the urge to question why they weren't white. Perhaps it was simply because he had not fully transformed? Maybe the color reflected that he was still himself, yet. She wanted to believe in that answer.
Thancred carefully folded the first wing as a bird might, tucking it in on itself. It did so with ease and did not move, so Thancred grabbed the second and secured it as well. They seemed heavy; the thickest part at the top the same width as an arm and just as built. Ryne looked at the horrific tears in his back, the skin looking as though it had been completely shredded. Long clawmarks from one of the sin eaters traveled from the bottom of his neck all the way down his spine to the base of his tail. It had battered him repeatedly, and multiple gashes marred the left and right sides from where the creature had kicked furiously as Vauthry had fought to subdue him. The former ruler of Eulmore had grabbed hold of Chiteni's blade and arm, holding him in place while his minion did the work of sneaking up on him. But he had paid for that sleight of hand with his own life soonafter.
Typically a sin eater is transformed inside a chrysalis formed by the aether which altered them. It forms around them and - once inside - their body melts down and reforms into a new, twisted shape; their own aether subsumed in the process and their soul destroyed. Chiteni had started to form that telltale chrysalis on his back as the aether poured out of his open wounds. Alisaie had rushed in and ripped it off of him, and while stopping the process only briefly, it was not before some of his flesh had liquefied beneath the feathery white skin. Ryne found it hard to look upon: the slightly melted quality of the two largest gashes on his back - the ones the wings had torn themselves free from. Most perplexing however was the smattering of feathers on his skin. As if their expulsion was an infection simply manifesting without.
Thancred lifted him slightly, gesturing to Ryne with his eyes. They carefully lashed his wings to his chest, trying not to injure him further. He didn't so much as stir, his shallow, slow breaths unchanged and still barely perceptible. His skin was shockingly cold, as if he were made of ice.
Once restrained, Thancred had Y'shtola help prop him up as he put his jacket over his friend, draping it across his back and hiding his injuries. He picked him up: though unlike in Malikah's Well, Thancred lifted him onto his back this time rather than have him lean. Alphinaud took the sleeves and tied them around Thancred's chest to help keep Chiteni from sliding off, and they began to make their way down the white marble steps, the Warrior of Darkness’ violet tail trailing on the steps behind and the quiet murmurs of Y'shtola's concealing incantation drifting through the air.
◇ ◇ ◇
Chiteni slowly woke up, his whole body aching. Something covered his eyes and he reached for it, noticing his arms were fairly weak with the effort it took to lift them. He decided to roll over to face his palms to make the job easier, but as he did, he felt a strange tug at his back. There was a swishing sound and he froze, unsure what was going on.
“Finally.” Ardbert's voice. Chiteni relaxed. “Are you awake for real this time? Hard to tell under the gauze.”
“Yes,” Chiteni's voice was hoarse from disuse and he choked on the word at first. He continued trying to pull the gauze off, wishing he had any strength in his grip.
“Careful. The bandage is on for a reason.”
“Did I hurt my eyes?” Chiteni paused. “I…I don't remember. I was…” he stopped speaking, his blood turned to ice. His mind raced with questions and he asked himself quietly, “Was it all just a dream…?”
Ardbert said nothing in response at first, as if considering his words carefully. “It happened,” he spoke at last.
Shaking with the effort, Chiteni grasped the gauze, ripping it off. The room was unbearably bright, the painful way his pupils dilated suggesting he hadn't opened his eyes in some time. One of the first things he saw was a pile of bloody bandages on the bedside table, and a familiar white jacket folded nearby on the chair. Fresh linens sat beside it along with several containers of waxen ointment. The mirror was turned away.
“How do you feel?” Ardbert asked, walking over.
“Like death. How…what happened? Is everyone all right?”
Ardbert quickly explained the events that transpired, though Chiteni could hear multiple times he hesitated in his recounting. As if wondering what all to actually divulge. His eyes narrowed. “It's been two weeks. You've been asleep the whole time.”
“No one is hurt,” Chiteni sighed, resting his head on the pillow.
“Just you. Try not to overdo it. You sleepwalk, you know?” Ardbert laughed a bit as he said it, though it was uneasy moreso than humorous.
Chiteni held a hand in front of his face a moment, noting the waxy coating and gauze on his palms. “Yeah.” He tried propping himself up a bit on an elbow, seeing the tight wad of bandages crisscrossing his whole chest. He could feel the open wounds on his back as the sheet brushed over the gauze. There was more he didn't really understand, however. A heavy weight and a strange sensation. Feelings he hadn't ever experienced before traveling much further down his body than just his spine. He stopped moving, holding very still. The feelings stopped.
“I'm ok,” he said, feeling suddenly breathless. He started to shake, unsure if that was how he felt.
“You're still you,” Ardbert tried reassuring him. It sounded as though he had practiced this line over and over. Rehearsed. Meaningless in the moment.
Chiteni closed his eyes, trying to relax. He shook with fear, a strange warm sensation tingling under his skin. He knew he would have to open his eyes and look at the damage, whatever it was. He clenched his fists so tightly his claws ripped the gauze until he felt warm blood in his palms. He could hear that strange swishing sound again as he shifted slightly. A massive wave of unfamiliar feeling raced through him, making him feel nauseated. There was so much of it.
He opened his eyes and turned, ready to see. At first he was confused. He couldn't spy anything save for a massive pile of black feathers. He wondered briefly if they were there to conceal something from him, like the gauze had over his eyes. But why choose this type of covering? He shifted to try and look beneath them and they moved with him, a silken sheet of black feathers sliding across another. And then he felt it again. He felt them brush against each other. A massive area of entirely new sensation - larger than any amount of physical touch he'd ever felt all at once. Deeply sensitive. He froze.
He closed his eyes again and tried to still his heart hammering in his chest. It was almost more than he could handle. So much afference all at once. He could suddenly feel the blood as it rushed into them, the strange goosebump-like sensation as the feathers raised with his horror; puffing up and pricking his skin with thick, sharp feather shafts. Massive waves of new and unexpected feelings battered him and he doubled over, retching; his whole body shaking with confusion.
“Hey, take it easy,” Ardbert tried to calm him.
Chiteni was silent aside from his breathing as he struggled to acclimate or understand. “I-is that…all there is?” he asked breathlessly.
“Yes!” Ardbert responded quickly. Immediately. All the tension left Chiteni's body at once and he collapsed back onto his side, panting.
“That's…th-that's not so bad,” he tried to joke. “Maybe I can…maybe we can remove them or…” he trailed off. The amount of feeling - of sensation he experienced from them was immense. The thought of the pain and sensory deprivation of just…cutting them off all of a sudden made him feel sick. He stopped speaking and just stared, shaking. He wanted to throw up but there was nothing there.
Ardbert sat with him in silence, giving him time to process everything. Some time passed. Maybe a few minutes, potentially hours. Sitting in the quiet with only the sound of coals dying in the heater. Chiteni let himself relax but he still refused to move. He wasn't sure he was ready to experience so much all over again. Maybe cutting them off was the best idea after all. Without turning his head he tried to look over the room, but his hair had gotten longer in the weeks since he'd been unconscious and it fell over both his eyes, obscuring his vision. He carefully reached up to part it, eyeing a broken weapon in the doorway. It was in several long pieces, partially wrapped in cloth.
“What is that?” he asked quietly.
Ardbert's eyes followed his gaze, falling upon the large blade. “After Vauthry broke your sword, your friends brought what they could carry back with them.”
Chiteni closed his eyes. “Yes…I remember, now.” Vauthry had grabbed his sword and sword arm, locking him in place while his sin eaters attacked. In his iron grip he had shattered the hardened steel of his Master's blade as if it were a brittle twig. But in so doing he had freed his opponent, a fatal error he would not live to regret as the broken blade found what was left of itself embedded in Vauthry's chest. The remains would be suitable. They were still sharp.
Chiteni agonizingly started to get up, propping himself up on an elbow and pushing the sheets off. Every movement brought with it a wave of nausea - twofold now that the wings were both in motion behind him. They hung limply at his back, brushing against his wounds and each other and the bed itself. The feelings brought chills and he had to pause frequently waiting for them to stop. The amount of sensory input was staggering. He could feel everything, almost as if he'd increased the space he could experience touch from threefold. Though he supposed that was exactly what had happened. As he moved he noted how the most sensitive areas were the strange new arms that hung behind him, and the wings themselves were sensitive where the feathers met the skin; the shafts pricking and tugging.
Fully standing now they dragged lifelessly behind him as they tumbled to the floor, almost knocking him over with their weight. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly as he tried to adjust, all the while his companion stood in strained silence beside him. He moved to the door, wishing he could stop from feeling anything for a few moments as his vision swam with black oil and stars - dizzy from the assault his body was unaccustomed to. Ardbert must have seen his goal, because he finally spoke up.
“Don't.” All he said. Chiteni paused.
“It's too much.”
“I can't begin to understand what this feels like but…please. It's hard enough on everyone already. They didn't care. They didn't hesitate to help you anyway. Maybe later when they can help you this would be appropriate but…it really should wait.”
“I'm going to die anyway,” Chiteni said. He hadn't intended it to sound so cold. Cruel, almost. Just the way it came out.
“I told you that they've been trying to find a way to help you. They don't need to return after weeks of tireless searching and sleepless nights to you having injured yourself further.” He started to sound angry. “Besides, let's think practically if you're so Hells-bent on this. To reach your wings’ base you'd probably have to twist around enough to break all the wax coating your back. You'd bleed to death without help. And at that point Ryne saved your life for nothing.”
“You don't understand,” Chiteni began, his words catching, emotion cracking his voice. “It's too much.” He wrapped his arms around his chest, closing his eyes. “I don't want this reminder every day until I finally die. I can…I can feel so much. I can't. I don't want to…to be something else. I don't want this.”
Ardbert sighed. “It may be wrong of me to say this, but…whether you feel like you're different or not, you're still alive, aren't you? You held on long enough for Ryne to help you. Surely you're strong enough to deal with this?”
“I…I feel like I'm going to shatter into a million pieces,” Chiteni stared at the floor, tears finally rolling down his cheeks. He took a deep, shaky breath.
“Can you lift them up? Maybe if you tried getting used to them then-”
“I don't know how,” Chiteni admitted quietly. The room felt very cold. “I can feel them but I don't…I don't know how to move them. It's not like I've had limbs there before, you know,” he laughed softly, without humor. “This is absurd.”
Ardbert looked down for a moment. “I have…some more bad news I'm not sure how to break to you.” Chiteni looked up at him slowly.
“I think...I know what you're going to say,” he said with a sad smile. He held a hand to his chest. “I think I heard Emet-Selch tell me. About the sky. I can feel that, too.” He turned slowly, looking up at the window. “I can feel it getting away from me. It's like…I don't know. Trying to grab sunlight with your hands.”
Chiteni continued towards the entryway as before, a bit more confident in his steps; and reaching into the cloth bag he pulled out a small, dagger-sized piece of his greatsword to hold it aloft, examining it.
“It feels…a bit better to be moving,” he said as if to reassure himself, holding the shard up to his face. He quickly cut off a jagged chunk of the bangs covering his eyes. “A lot easier to see if my hair isn't in the way.” He sighed, turning to Ardbert. “They can't be allowed to catch me like this but…I want to go outside. And see for myself.”
“Y'shtola put a glamour on them. To make them harder to spot.” He gestured towards Thancred's coat, folded neatly by the bed. “Just needs a little help is all.”
Chiteni walked over, wincing as the wings dragged across the floor with a gentle swish. He looked at the bedside table, noting several extra rolls of gauze and cloth. “I think I'll tie them up. So I don't have to worry about it.”
Author's Note: Just a little something self-indulgent for myself LOL I have wanted to write about this for a long LONG time. It's hard to put some ideas into text - you never feel like you can do them justice. But I love body horror, there's something so sinisterly invasive about it. The lack of control, the loss of familiarity. It's like someone coming into your home and rearranging everything. And you're expected to still live here, knowing that can happen.
I know this is a world of magic and monsters, but we dont see many winged humans around so I have to think they're not really all that common. Physical changes this big, I mean. Perhaps some are reversible - and if you think of the Serpent Reavers and Captain Madison...some change you so much you don't even have the ability to care. But Chiteni does still feel exactly as he always has, so waking up to something like this...I can only imagine how terrifying that would be. How alien it would feel. I mean he expected to just die, maybe one of his friends would put him down. The tempered don't live to even come to terms with how their bodies have been twisted and distorted, so naturally this isn't a consequence he had really considered. It's shocking and more than a bit upsetting, even if events leading up to it were exactly what he had chosen.
When I originally made the decision to canonize his wings, I decided I'd rather he not have been born with them. Because that seems too easy, to me. Too blessed, too simple. I wanted it to be complicated, maybe a little unsettling. And in making that choice I decided to seriously consider the actual feelings you might experience if this happened to you. The incredible surface area added to your sense of touch - I mean you have SIX LIMBS now, that's a bit freaky. His wingspan varies based on how big he *feels them to be* but on average it's typically from 10-16ft. It's magic that he doesn't have much control over so he can't just...make them smaller on a whim. They can only get so small, anyway. Right now they are...unfathomably huge. Imagine each one being like 10ft apiece and you get the picture. Kind've hard to operate like this. He learns it's sort've about perspective later in Endwalker but even at the end of Dawntrail he's never really tested the limit just yet. Probably a bit scared he can't go back if he does. Maybe he's right.
Chiteni sat in the pew he used to sit in with his Master, the choir chanting Starlight carols that echoed merrily in the halls of Saint Reymanaud's Cathedral. It was a holiday in the newly-reformed Ishgard after all, and parishioners both rich and poor spilled forth in the streets today going about their time-honored traditions. The chapel smelled of the fragrances it always did, but this year a hint of cinnamon, nutmeg, and freshly-baked bread wafted about the misty halls. The deacons were busy passing out gifts to children - along with kinderpunsch and freshly-baked Ishgardian muffins. This year there were even three varieties of the classic drink, though Chiteni had found himself too busy to partake; running around visiting others for the holidays as he had been. Not a day went by when he wasn't spending time in some far-flung locale with friends he had met on his journey. The children yelling and scurrying about the cathedral between its pews were as much an embodiment of his holiday thus far as their own.
His Master had always loved Starlight. He recalled his first gift during one of the last years they had spent together - after leaving the mountains to come live and work in Ishgard. It had taken Chiteni time to learn to trust and rely on them, convinced as he was that they had abducted him from his home. But they had ever treated him with respect and understanding; so as the animosity of those first days melted away, something warmer and less distant found itself creeping in. Their relationship had been strained and complicated, and they seemed to always keep Chiteni at a distance. But that year they bought him one single colorful bead to thread into the clip he always wore in his hair. He rubbed it between his fingers now, thinking fondly of the memory before getting up to leave. Today wasn't for reminiscing about his ghosts.
The sun was beginning to set, casting the gray stone streets in golds, oranges, and purples. Chiteni pulled his wings in tightly to preserve some warmth as the snow began to fall. He jogged up to the entrance to Fortemps Manor, nodding to the gatekeep as he did so and passing through the entryway.
The fire was roaring in the back of the main room, and the many guests and usual arrangement of tables stuffed with myriad foods created an atmosphere of bustle and plenty. The press were incredibly loud as some stood and some sat, silverware plinking off their handmade glass dishes. Sautéed porcini mushrooms and a decadent-smelling clam chowder sat on a nearby table in large glass serving bowls; along with fresh baguettes, king crab, and shrimp cocktails with sides of fresh cheese and skyr. Another table nearby seemed to have a collection of soups: ukha and glory be, maybe some dhalmel fricassee. It all smelled incredible, and he couldn't even see everything from the entryway as there were platters on tables hidden behind the press of guests.
“May I take your coat, Master Kha?” Chiteni turned his head to see Honoroit standing by a guest podium, drawing his arm to his chest in a curt bow. He wore a dark blue gilet over a soft red chemise, the vestments trimmed in warm white fur.
“Just Chiteni is fine, you know.” He shrugged off his jacket, unclipping a makeshift clasp on his back that fitted it around his wings to make it easier to get out of. “Full house, tonight?”
“Yes, quite,” Honoroit mused as he took the coat, hanging it on a nearby rack. “My Lord Emmanelain sends his regards - he is on duty at the door this evening but was…drawn away by distraction.”
Chiteni's ear twitched. “Oh was he, now.”
Honoroit smiled anxiously, wringing gloved hands. “He requested I apologize on his behalf to our guests. Though he will be back shortly, I am certain.”
Chiteni sighed, looking out over the room. He did not spy the wayward lord in the press, but he knew Emmanelain would be out there enjoying himself. At Honoroit's expense, besides. “I hope I'm not too late for any epideictics? I'd hate to be rude I was just…held up on my way in. Had to corral some steinbock to help out Artoirel at Falcon's Nest. Some of the livestock managed to escape onto the shelf.”
“I heard my Lord wouldn't be able to attend, but I'm sure they will be having their own Starlight festivities at the Nest, besides!” Honoroit smiled, nodding to himself. “And no, no oratories yet. Lord Edmont said there were a few on the guest list he'd be loath to start without. I'm certain you were one of them, Mast- Chiteni.”
“Well I'll go grab Emmanelain for you so you can get something to eat. Give me a few minutes to find the loudest pocket of guests, I'm sure he'll be therein.”
“I would be most appreciative,” Honoroit smiled, bowing again.
The night went on much as it had been when Chiteni came in. He wasn't one to come to such large events if he could help, but Starlight at House Fortemps was always a special occasion for him. Tataru said she would be too busy at her shop this season to come, and Alphinaud said he wanted to spend the holidays with his family. So of the three who initially came to Ishgard on that fateful day, only one would be in attendance this year. It wasn't so much that Chiteni disliked parties or large crowds, it was just the lack of familiarity that made things challenging. He wished others he knew well were here, but the party seemed fairly bereft of his familiars. He tried to push down his disappointment. Luckily for him, Charlemend of House Dzemael briefly stopped by personally to deliver a Starlight missive to the house in a short speech, and the two had a chance to reconnect for a spell. He waxed poetic about the desire to build more schools in the lower parts of the city during his toast - schools both educational in the everyday sense and also in trades. He seemed very keen on noblesse oblige these days, and his suggestion it be a joint venture was incredibly popular with those in attendance. Chiteni was proud of the ways things had changed in Ishgard, and he only hoped they would continue to do so.
When Lord Edmont came down from upstairs to give his own speech, many were seated already and had their fill of food and drink. The three kinderpunsch had made their way to Ishgard from Gridania - a venture Aymeric had been very adamant about this year after attending the forest city's jubilations. Three large bowls of the newly-varied punsch sat steaming gently next to an enormous pile of colorfully-wrapped gifts. It was always the duty of the head of the house to dispense these gifts before the back half of the party, and for the youth it was absolutely the best part. The very moment they had been waiting for.
The punsch was dispensed for everyone to pick and try as they came up to grab packages as they were called and distributed, and Chiteni wondered which he might like. It was a nostalgic and comforting drink for him from his first Starlight in Ishgard - that afternoon Lord Edmont had found him at the cathedral feeling raw and unsure. When Gibrillont had shown him that he was someone worth remembering. Perhaps that thought had provoked the questions that haunted him at the time: the thought that - just like everyone who had come and gone in his own life - maybe he, too, would be remembered by others when he left theirs. Not as a person who did great things but rather simply…as someone they missed. The ache left by lost loved ones was a wound that could only be made if you let them in, and he had wasted many years refusing to do so. To avoid that pain. To chase after wasted time is a perverse sentiment when time will simply keep wasting around you in the act. Better to remember and be remembered right now in the present.
As the last presents were handed out and the table emptied, Chiteni watched smiling as the paper and bows were flung everywhere by the excited kids. “Budding warriors, the lot of them,” a familiar voice laughed behind Chiteni's shoulder. He sat up in his chair and turned around. Aymeric was there, staring out over the parlor with a soft smirk. He was in a flowing royal blue fur coat trimmed with white and brass-colored tassels. “I think the parents' peace negotiations are going well, however.”
“It looks more like war,” Chiteni smiled. “Did you just get in?”
Aymeric hesitated before answering. “Actually, I came to collect you. Lord Edmont is requesting you upstairs.”
“And he sent you? Talk about political weight.”
Aymeric laughed. “You could say I volunteered for the position. I am a battlefield commander after all - and who better to wade through this firestorm of bows and tiny wooden artillery?” He shook his head. “All due jesting aside, I'd very much appreciate it if we got moving.”
Concerned by the sudden shift in tone, Chiteni got up to follow. What could be the matter? Everything was fine not but a bell past.
They moved briskly through the crowd and towards the massive grand staircase that led up to the house lord's private sector. Thoughts of any number of awful things crossed his mind, and he felt a spike of panic. Aymeric must have noted his distress because he slowed down, placing a calm hand on his friend's shoulder. “Tis nothing so heinous,” he reassured him. “They've simply been waiting a while.”
Chiteni relaxed. He knew if it was serious, Aymeric would have simply told him. Nothing to be so worked up over, he chastised himself. Who are ‘they,' though? I can't say I spied many guests coming up this way.
As they rounded the corner to a large sitting room, Aymeric gestured Chiteni through the door. He could have sworn he never saw a single one of these souls down at the party. Tataru was here after all, luxuriating on a sofa next to the fireplace in a white and pink dress chatting amicably with Krile next to her. Krile herself was wearing a pastel blue dress with white trim, holding a small glass of wine. She looked up from their conversation as Chiteni stood in the doorway, taking in the room. “Oh, Chiteni's here!” she called happily. “Do come in!”
“Apologies for keeping this from you,” Alphinaud walked up to him sheepishly, almost tripping over his words to get them out as quickly as possible. “Alisaie's threats are no small incentive to keep one's lips pursed.”
“There's plenty more where those came from.” Ameliance must have had their outfits made as usual: the two matched in every manner but color in simple, white-trimmed vests. Alisaie was looking over sternly from a platter of cookies she was perusing. Her expression shifted quickly to a smile. “Enough about keeping him quiet, though. We wanted to surprise you.”
“I…” Chiteni trailed off, looking around. Thancred waved nonchalantly from his seat without even looking in the doorway. Urianger was on a nearby sofa surprisingly across from Moenbryda's parents, Bloewyda and Wilfsunn; and Raha, Y'shtola, Erenville, and Lamaty'i could all be heard in the next room's kitchenette. Fourchenault and Ameliance were present as well. Someone punched Chiteni lightly in the shoulder, snapping him out of his stunned silence.
“We all wanted to be here together this year. Since many of us are missing our own families.” Lyse's voice. He turned to see her, dressed head to toe in red and white.
“How- how did everyone get in here…?”
“You mean how everyone snuck past you?” Y'shtola smirked from across the room. “T’was a clever diversion devised by one Lord Artoirel. Even Emmanelain's post by the door to keep him from adventuring overmuch was all part of his clever scheme.”
“He sprung the steinbock himself, in truth,” Thancred chuckled. “He definitely knows you can't resist lending a hand.”
“Chiteni!” a voice yelled from across the room. Lamaty'i shoved her plate of food into Erenville's unwilling hands as the others peeked out of the doorway, G'raha waving cheerfully. Lamaty'i thundered towards Chiteni in a vibrant orange coat, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. “I've missed you! It is SO COLD here!” She released him, holding him at arm’s length by the shoulders as if preventing his escape. “I wanted Koana, Gulool Ja, and Sphene to be here but…everyone's so busy. And we can't have so many gone. You'll have to come to us next time!”
The door closed behind him as Lucia walked in, smiling. “Many couldn't quite make it on such short notice but…we sent out as many missives as we could in time.”
“Don't just stand there in the doorway!” Bloewyda called. “Get yourself something to drink in the kitchen!”
“There's extra punsch Tataru and I made,” Krile said somewhat shyly, walking up to him and gesturing. “We heard you really like it.” When he did not immediately move, she pushed an errant curl out of her face and grabbed his sleeve. "Oh, don't dawdle."
They sat and talked for what felt like hours. Everyone had something to say about their year: events to catch up on, hopes for the future, concerns and comforts to share. A new venture into aetherological history from Bloewyda and Wilfsunn; thinly understood by present company, but no less enthusiastically shared for it. Krile and G'raha were more than pleased to recount new membership in the Students. The twins were making positive strides in restoring the smaller settlements in Garlemald. Tataru's business was - of course - flourishing. Aymeric had managed to get out of Ishgard more often in recent days, what with the House of Lords not needing all members in attendance every meeting. And further still, Lyse and M'naago were doing well for themselves rediscovering and revitalizing Ala Mhigan traditions buried by Imperial pretention.
Even here in the house they had managed to get a shipment of decorative, hand-painted mugs in from Gridania for this special little party. Chiteni chose the one designed like Ul'dah - the city he'd set out for several years ago now in search of…just a feeling, really. What'd he'd found had been so much more than he could've ever dreamt. Loved ones to share warmth with on one of the longest, coldest nights of the year. Family he never even knew he had. The star turned and upon its surface people lived, loved, and passed. Time too, continued its relentless march onward late into the night.
After a while, Lord Edmont struck a glass gently from where he sat by the fire. A hush quickly fell over everyone gathered. “There is one gift left that has not been given, and I'd like to say I had the honor of partnering with Mistress Tataru and her boutique to have it crafted.” He held out a small box in Chiteni's direction. “The rest of the set is in your residence in the Empyreum, but I wanted to be able to offer something for you tonight.”
Chiteni felt everyone's eyes on him. He wanted to shrink into a speck of dust so that he could float away unseen. Through the ventilation, perhaps. His eartips felt hot.
“All the things you've done and a present is what leaves you dumbstruck?” Fourchenault gave him a wan smile.
Thus pressured, he got up and grabbed the box, anxiously sitting back down. He stared at it for a moment: it was wrapped in a deep cobalt foil tissue with a small black bow and gold lace. It was a box of some sort - small enough to fit in his lap but not so small he could hold it in one hand. He gently cut a slit with a claw, tearing into the paper and making short work of the simple container. He was puzzled for a moment before placing a hand on it to extract it.
Stretched before him as it was, he held it aloft. It was a fairly complex gambison: quilted black leather studded with brass pins with a soft blue chemise of the color the Kha often dyed their own clothes. The straps to piece it together were a deep burgundy leather; and also inside the box were a simple brass compass, a cross necklace, and a small dagger complete with its own scabbard - for foraging or self-defense, if one felt so inclined. It came with two small handmade leather satchels, one even large enough for a tome like his journal…
“It would not do to have you sitting in the cold anywhere in just a chemise, but I am well aware tight jackets and armor are not in your favor." Chiteni looked up at him. "You shall have to forgive me for insisting upon adding the flounce to the neck, I wanted it to be fit for dress as well as the road.” Edmont smiled knowingly.
“Ooooh Chiteni! Won't you at least try it on? I have been beside myself waiting for you to see it!” Tataru was nearly vibrating out of her seat with excitement, making Krile place a soothing hand on her to keep her from bouncing away, laughing.
Unsure what else to do, Chiteni nodded, retreating into a side room. He could hear the others chatting quietly in the other room, and for a moment he worried his stiff reaction had been taken as offense. He busied himself with the straps and buckles, his hand passing over the fine slits in the back where Tataru had hemmed the design specifically around his wings - her usual buckle for ease of entry and exit included. He thought then of how he'd lost his well-worn leather coat when Origen had captured him. Of how it must have been so obvious what it meant to him - and the color besides. He ran a hand gently over the deep, ruffled collar, smiling. He would have to ask where they had sourced the dye. If perhaps it had come from his first home? If that place still existed, even. He hoped so.
He returned to the others, awash in love and praise for both the things he had done for them and the distance he had come thus far as a person. Those questions of a Starlight past seemed so meaningless in the moment. Who you are, what your purpose is, whether you deserve to be remembered or not. Halone was someone he had met personally at this point, and while She had not spoken of any of his moments of weakness, he could almost hear Her spear rattling Her shield in approval of his chosen path. Or so his Master had told him would be so, one day. The echoes of your own words could help you see that you cannot escape from yourself and your thoughts, but that giving a voice to them could help you to maybe one day leave them behind.
Author's Note: Ah! I did it I finally finished both of them. Just in time! I've been doing a lot of stressing and worrying about my own way through life the past couple months, and honestly my friends keep me going. I'm like the Ship of Theseus and people just WILL NOT STOP PATCHING THE HOLES lol But I appreciate the support. I wanted to put a few things into words: how important it is to admit the things that scare you, hurt you, worry you. Not to anyone in particular but to yourself. It can be hard to try and tough it out all the time. Letting people in is how you blossom.
People are a collage of our experiences. We're MADE UP of those we interact with, those we love and hate. That family recipe was something another imparted to you, that turn of phrase was spoken by a stranger and became part of your vocabulary, maybe that movie or song or book was from a formative time in your life and you've never forgotten the characters. Whatever it is, you're still you, but say the words. To yourself, if no one else. Break out of that shell. Do the things you were too scared or tired or sad to do yesterday. Time won't wait. Don't let it go to waste!
The hearth is a symbol of warmth, community, heart. Hestia was the first and last goddess in everyone's minds because your home is where everything begins and ends. It can be anywhere, even. And while Halone is a goddess of ice and war and judgement, I also like to think that comes with an understanding of what it means to PROTECT. And what is worth fighting for. Like warm moments, holidays, good food, people you love, adored traditions. Only when you are close to losing everything do you really learn to appreciate the worth of the simple stuff, you know? A little warmth when you come in from the cold.
“No no, you need to step more lightly,” the instructor barked, sounding annoyed. Her lips were a thin line, her brown eyes hard as diamond. “What's that tail for if not to balance better on your toes? And tilt your head back a bit! You want to open your airways so you don't run out of breath like a whipped horse.”
Chiteni sighed, trying to do as he was told. Saulette had the patience of a Saint with him as Annalise snapped from the corner of the empty drawing room. Lord Edmont had insisted he learn how to operate amongst the upper class of Ishgard as part of the deal to stay in Fortemps Manor, and he was struggling with this demand in nearly every imaginable way. Dance, speech, dress, manners. It was all so alien to him.
Tataru tried comforting him from the divan by the window, her elegant pink dress cascading down the sides as she rested from her turn. Her long hair was tied up in a bun with large graceful curls spiraling off of it. “You're doing much better, don't be discouraged!” she offered, her warm eyes sympathetic. “It looks better than yesterday.” She had taken to dance particularly well of the three of them, and he knew she wouldn't be dishonest with him. It was one of Chiteni's weakest areas though…it was not the weakest one.
“Just breathe naturally,” Saulette offered, her voice gentle. “You're a fighter, is a fight not like a dance?”
Chiteni's ears flattened and he said nothing. She wasn't wrong, in truth. A fight was very much the same way - a fairly astute observation from someone so young. But it had been years since he danced, much as combat was reminiscent of it. His mother's voice rang clearly through his mind as he recalled when she taught him as a child; demanding he follow her motions as if there were a sort've unbroken stream of energy that he need simply follow which he could not yet see. He'd never been as good as she, and this…queer way of dancing the Ishgardians were fond of was so stiff by contrast. It was a tangled mess of emotions and experience which frustrated and confused him. All the fighting - the years of burying those quiet moments…He stopped, stepping back.
“I need a break, I'm sorry.” He turned to leave.
“We've just barely started our lesson!” Annalise called after him with barely-concealed derision as he quickly pushed open the door and made his escape. He dashed down the hall, shedding the stiff suit jacket suffocating him. He discarded it on the manor floor as he walked briskly past a frozen window. Chiteni paused briefly, coming to a steady halt before it as his eyes caught the snow falling gently in the gray afternoon sky. He needed to get out of here for a moment. This place felt so stifling.
Running around a corner he accidentally found himself bolting betwixt a small group of startled houseservants carrying platters of treats and pitchers of water to the lesson room; past the large open fireplace with faint wisps of smoke and ash teasing the air; further still down the long and winding corridors with their endless doors and soft red carpets and their smothering stillness; he burst out the double doors into the cold of the Last Vigil, the warm manor air spilling out past him into the cobblestone street like a billowing cloud. The gatekeep turned in surprise and reached out a hand, expertly grabbing Chiteni's arm with practiced speed.
“Young Master, what ails you? Do you require a jacket before you venture into the city?"
“Got rid of it.” His tail lashed. “Don't need it.” He shrugged off the guard. He could feel the chill acutely in just this thin, frilly chemise; but he wasn't about to let a little cold stop him. He bolted down the street, leaving the man looking a bit lost and concerned as he vanished down the foggy, snowy pathway.
He had no real destination in mind. There was no goal - no sort of place he meant to be. His feet took him over gray stone bridges and frozen fountains; past statues of saints, leaders, and their Goddess; along passageways tunneled deep into the mountain that opened up to beautiful avenues dotted with carefully curated tundra flowers. He ran his fingers over the petals as he passed by, the snow falling gently and muffling the sounds of chatter and the crackling of the torches but still a steady wind whistled over the stones. The air was bitterly cold and he saw his breath wisp through it, tumbling in a thin cloud until it vanished into the snow and mist.
After some time the stone began to change. Planks of wood scaffolding were haphazardly strewn about to offer the slight suggestion work might be taking place but…anyone from here knew better. An open entryway had found itself presented to him, and the smell of warm food and drink wafted down the stone steps past the wrought iron-crested oaken frame. He ran his hands over it as he passed through, entering the dark and dimly-lit wine cellar of the tavern below.
The Forgotten Knight. What might have passed for his old home, once. Not so strange that he'd have been drawn to this place - with thoughts of the past years swirling around in his mind's eye. Not the happiest memories. He looked towards the countertop to his right. Typically Emond would be down here preparing spirits for purchase for those eating on the floor above. But his station lay vacant at the moment, the bottles for once neatly arranged, all on their shelving. The blood tubs and quarter casks - sorted and cleaned - lined the countertop, and one had even been used to hold a few decorative flowers, adding light and color to the space. An unfinished hogshead barrel was the only sign of recent activity: its hoop driver resting on top and the furnace smelling of char from its cleaning.
Chiteni ascended the stairs, wondering why it was so silent above. He entered the tavern proper; passing the ornate storage room door with the usual extra tables and chairs stationed outside at the top of the steps. The various table lamps were out, and the hearth had but the faint glow of embers as the fire began to die. The only sounds were those of Gibrillont - inkeep and tavern master - humming a familiar tune to himself as he wiped down the bar's counter, swiping glass and wood clean amongst the light from the only lit lamp.
The elezen paused as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. “We're closed right now - did Emond leave the cellar door open, again?” He said the latter half almost to himself as he sighed. “I'll have to ask you to…” Gibrillont paused as Chiteni walked towards him into the faint light. “Well now, this is a surprise.”
“It's been a long time. Apologies for showing up when you're not open. I'm…not really here for anything.” Chiteni wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't here on purpose, even.
Gibrillont set aside his cloth and gestured towards the bar. “May I offer you something to drink? It's cold outside and it's been years since I've seen you. I heard your name pass a few lips - such things travel with a swiftness when ale is furnishing its venture. But I…I honestly wasn't sure it was actually your name, if I may beg your pardon.” He smiled, turning and grabbing a smaller quarter cask and pouring whatever remained of its contents into a meager metal pot. Without letting Chiteni answer, he came out from behind the counter past him, placing the pot on the hearth's few remaining embers before returning to his post. Chiteni walked up towards the counter, jars of spices catching his eye as he fiddled with the strings tying their caps closed.
“I suppose it's weird, yeah,” he said awkwardly. “A lot's happened and I'd rather not go into it at the moment. Where is everyone?”
“You never were good at keeping track of time,” Gibrillont mused. “It's the Eve of Starlight, you know. Most folks will be closing down early today.”
“Oh. Well…that explains why we were having our lesson so early this morning…and were you humming a carol when I came in?” Chiteni smirked.
“Aye, you got me. It's hard not to be taken with it all on such a perfect day.”
The two chatted amicably for a while as they waited, Gibrillont clearly trying not to pry. He walked over and grabbed the pot, bringing it back behind the bar and pouring its contents into a small tankard. It steamed gently as he pushed it over to Chiteni. “You look like you spent a night at the Dusk Vigil. Something warm - don't worry there's no alcohol in it. I remember what a terror you were when you DID drink.”
“I never started it,” Chiteni mumbled, looking into the cup. The smell of mulled apples, pears, and cherries wafted up from within; all tinged with the gentle aroma of cinnamon and clove. He suddenly realized how cold he was.
“Maybe not. But a miqo'te lad with a firm sense of justice and no ties to anyone sitting at one of my tables is just asking for trouble in this city.”
The drink was warm and comforting. He smiled thinking of the brawls with ne'er-do-wells and unblooded youths thinking they were ready for war. “I didn't mean to break anything. And you charged me more than anyone else, anyway.” He snorted.
“When ‘Trouble’ is the name signing the lease, you take the insurance out in advance,” the proprietor laughed. It made Chiteni wish to laugh, as well. “I made that kinderpunsch for folks this morning but they had their fill. You can take it with you when you visit the cathedral.”
“Oh, I'm not-”
“Of course you are. You came here. You aren't going to go pay your respects on a day like this? It won't be busy ‘til later - but you'd best be heading over there.” Chiteni sighed and Gibrillont smiled at him. “You always paid your dues. It can't have just been to myself that you did.”
“I'm glad you were here,” Chiteni admitted. “And you're right. I think I would've headed that way next.”
Saint Reymanaud's Cathedral. Steam wafted up from the warm cup as Chiteni ascended the stairs to its gate. A deacon was outside and waved him in with a pleasant smile, and Chiteni wondered how kind this young man would be if he knew Midgardsormr himself had his watchful eye on the one passing through these doors. He considered his history with dragon slaying as the massive opening closed behind him, swallowing him in a warm darkness. The spicy bite of frankincense and myrrh swirled around him and he breathed it in, his eyes adjusting. A few candles adorned the entryway and he walked silently along the floor to the chapel.
The room was empty as he entered. He recalled what one of the priestesses would always tell those who passed the threshold - something along the lines of not needing words, for Halone knew you by your deeds. Her statue stood resolute in the center of the back of the room, flanked by azure-tinged stained glass. Her long, flowing hair carved from the stone with a subtle beauty, Her face covered by Her helm, the shield at Her side emblazoned with three tridents. She always seemed like an impartial judge to Chiteni - though a judge nonetheless. He wondered if his current course could make up for his own past misdeeds in Her eyes - that perhaps the words he need not say were indeed already spoken for within the songs of Her halls.
He bowed his head respectfully. He followed no religion particularly strictly, but it was hard not to fear and love the Fury growing up in a place so deeply beneath Her gaze. He knew there were actions he hadn't taken that he did need words for, and he looked up at Her in the silence.
“I have not forgotten my Master,” he began hesitantly. “Nor those who…wish me success. To flourish in the cold, as it were. But there are things I wish they'd imparted with me before their death.” He sighed. It felt like such a weight was lifted - to simply speak the words he'd kept to himself for years. “I wish they were still alive. So that maybe I could ask them all the questions I'd never had the courage to.”
He looked over at the pews next to him, running a hand over the well-worn wood. Halone said nothing - as was Her wont he presumed - but bearing your heart was never about the sound of words in response, but the echo of your own voice that carried the healing. “I want to know who I am. I feel lost, sometimes. I know it doesn't truly matter; that yes we are who we make ourselves. But...is it wrong I want to know more? Is it greed that compels me to simply never be satisfied? I've done great things but I feel so...hollow. Sometimes. Like there is this...hunger for something I don't understand. Gnawing at me.” He sighed, sitting down and resting his head on the back of the pew in front of him. Her silence was deafening, as always. Something worked its way up into his throat in the still and quiet: a choking, cloying heat. “I- I miss my family sometimes.”
And he sat in the dark and quiet this Starlight, listening to nothing but the sound of his own words and the wind whistling outside.
That is; until a warm, heavy coat was placed on his shoulders after an unknown amount of time. He started, lifting his head. Lord Edmont stood over him, his eyes soft. He said nothing, sitting down quietly beside his ward and staring up at the statue. Chiteni opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure what to express - what words would be useful in Halone's eyes in this moment as his deeds hadn't warranted such warmth. But he said nothing in the end, running his fingers over the silky, steinbock fur collar and trying not to feel overwhelmed. He slowly and hesitantly rested his head on the man next to him without consequence; and they sat in silence like that together, perhaps awaiting the paritioners to come. Perhaps just enjoying Her silence and the echo of actions rather than words.
Just a little side thing but I always get anxious when ppl like or reblog something and I don't feel like it's appropriate for me to respond so I just kind've stare and can't say 'thank you' ascssvv
Just know I REALLY APPRECIATE that you bother to look at my stuff at all and I do hope you like it if you stop by! That it's worth the time you invested. I try to write for myself first and foremost but I think any creator understands that it's more fun to create if there are those who enjoy your creations.
This is part 2 of 3 parts! I recommend reading part 1, first - though I certainly can't stop you
Something to Remember
Chiteni and his chocobo, Jay, trundled over the incline to look upon the plains that lay before them; the wind buffeting fur and feathers every which way, his beads clacking together in his hair. Jay was a deep, dark blue in color, and his legs were covered in extra gauze and armored shin casings to empower his kicks. A dark mask covered his eyes, leaving only a few points of pinkish light as ornamentation where they were meant to be. This helped him with his sensitivity towards inclement weather, but did not obstruct his vision. His dark blue and brown leather saddle and bags were trimmed with a plum finish, and he held himself quite regally. Jay was a bit snooty for a steed, but he was a gift from an acquaintance in Ul'dah met many years ago. Chiteni treasured his feathery companion.
Erenville brought up the rear on young Wander, Chiteni's fledgling amaro. She was quite large for her age - though not unintelligent - and she'd often squabble with Jay. Typically fun-loving and excitable, she was a bit moody at the moment as Chiteni had chosen not to ride her; something for which he knew he'd have to apologize later. She was a pale lavender in color, with massive deep purple stripes. Her forewings were a bit smaller than the average amaro, so she tired somewhat quickly in flight; Wander being half cama on her mother's side. He knew she'd outlive him one day. So he wanted to fill those days with stories worth her recounting.
Wander had her four wings tucked in tightly as the wind whipped around them, causing the grass to dance in the sunlight. As they strode over the open plane with purpose towards the residence of the Mol tribe, they passed a shepherd and his herd of karakul. Chiteni lit up in response, waving and wishing they were here to simply sit around and fall asleep in the sun with the lambs. Erenville cocked his head quizzically.
“A friend of yours?”
“Not at all!” Chiteni smiled back. “Though mayhaps we could be so?”
Jay snorted.
Chiteni's wings were bound behind him - though it wasn't to restrain them so much as to help him deal with the wind. They were tucked into thick canvas casings with strange modular leather straps. Honestly it had been incredibly confusing to put on, but Erenville said he'd explain their function and purpose later. Chiteni had been working hard to keep his wings strong but he was worried he'd lose balance with the gusty breeze, so he grudgingly wore them.
They had chosen such a day because it was calm and clear and windy; and today Erenville wanted to put to use the feathers of cloudkin they'd been requesting help capturing in recent days. The two had visited the Mol a few times to try and understand what would be best for the birds themselves and what their relationship was as a people with these animals - so as best not to disrupt them. Temulun herself had insisted they come on a day such as this, and Erenville was more than ready to put his scientific knowledge to use.
They passed the shepherd, Chiteni still looking back somewhat forlornly. It was the life he missed - the life he was raised to love - and his lack of it that stung him sometimes. Things had never gone the way he had planned. His entire existence had been shaped by hands not his own, and striking out of Ishgard and eventually meeting Thancred and joining the Scions had put his life firmly in his own possession for the first time. Sometimes it was paralyzing. Knowing he could do anything with it. It was as if freedom was just…some other manner of cage he had found his heart trapped in.
They passed by the Mol's lookout post. Ajai was on duty at the moment, and he waved animatedly from his perch as he began to blow a ram's horn and notify his brother and those few at camp of their guests’ arrival. The young man was an expert when it came to working with their yol, and he was incredibly excited to see his work helping to trim and fit their feathers actually pay off in such an unexpected way. He must've volunteered for watch duty so he could spot them first.
The two dismounted and guided Jay and Wander by hand over to the fire. The Mol - like many other Xaela - didn't typically always stable their animals, so the two got to bask in the childrens’ loving attentions while their master was busy today. Wander could barely contain her excitement as she bounced in step beside Erenville, her childish behavior managing to extract a small laugh from him as she imagined hours of brushing and petting and being used as a very soft climbing obstacle. Jay had his head tilted slightly upwards by comparison, seemingly dismayed and embarrassed by her display.
“Come now,” Chiteni scratched his chin gently, “I know you're looking forward to this just as much as she. You could be more honest about it.”
Jay looked at him briefly and Chiteni could see the excitement sparkle in his brown eyes. He clacked his beak together and picked up his pace somewhat, almost dragging the miqo'te along with him now.
After depositing their companions, Chiteni and Erenville made their way over to the main tent. Most of the Mol were going about their day as normal, but some few had stuck around and were chattering excitedly about the day's proceedings while going about their chores. There was a surprising amount of whispers and bustle, those in the open quickly clearing out. Chiteni's ears flicked nervously.
“Let me get the covers off,” Erenville offered. “Our work today may take a couple hours, so we should get comfortable.”
They had Chiteni lay his wings flat on a table one at a time. 'Imping' was when you took feathers from donor birds and transplanted them onto another. The yol and other cloudkin of the Steppe and surrounding area were massive in size - perfect for his own large wingspan. The Mol had spent a few days trimming and clipping alongside Erenville's direction while Chiteni had watched, and today they were actually going to put them in. Since his feathers were black, it was going to be exceedingly obvious which weren't his own, but he was honestly a bit excited to see the basket of colorful plumes they brought out.
Erenville provided a mixture he'd brought from Sharlayan. He said it was a sort've aetheric adhesive of somekind. Since Chiteni had ripped out some of the feathers, there wasn't any way to imp them; so they needed a way to secure full ones in a manner that they'd fall off naturally when new ones grew in. It was a bit embarrassing when he explained it so matter-of-factly, and Chiteni sadly figured today was going to be full of such uncomfortable reminders of his past actions. He held as still as he could while Erenville adhered the fuller plumes, with Ajai's older brother Jebei threading the shafts of some smaller ones: gently stripping off the feathers from their core and shaving them to slide inside easily and tightly. It was quiet - save for the wind, the crackle of the sconces, and the kids playing with Jay and Wander.
“This reminds me of home,” he murmured. The Ixal used to trade feathers with the Kha to use in their festivities, clothing, and various decoration; and the Kha would dye them any number of colors. Watching the two of them work quietly was like seeing the older kids doing prep for a festival. Building effigies or adorning costumes. Though he supposed he was the decoration this time? The thought made him smile.
Erenville paused. “We've got a lot of time. Would you want to talk about it, perhaps…?”
“Oh.” Chiteni stared, mouth partially open. “I mean, uh, I guess I could?”
He spoke at length about where he'd spent the first few years of his life. Jebei seemed fascinated, and he hadn't been present for some of Chiteni's earlier recountings. It apparently was quite uncommon for a tribe to leave the Steppe largely voluntarily versus being driven out - let alone hear about them thriving in another climate. He talked about their annual festivals, the other tribes living in Coerthas, their skills and specialties. The Kha were musicians and artisans. Their contributions during festivities were always adornments; prizes for other tribes to win, music for those present - those sorts of things.
“They sound a bit like the Kahkol,” Jebei mused as he continued threading. “They typically adopt those without tribes themselves and celebrate various traditions and faiths from all over the Steppe.”
Suddenly Cotota and Khashin poked their heads around the corner. The two young siblings were often spotted together listening to music by the fire, and Chiteni had been sure they'd be too busy messing with Jay to pay a visit to the tent. So much for that, it seemed. Like the other Xaela they had blue-black scales and horns, and both had bright green eyes and brown hair. Ajai shuffled them in with a warm smile. He was a man grown, though still young and excitable - with brown eyes and glowing yellow limbal rings. They reminded Chiteni of his father's eyes.
“I finished my watch! May we join you?”
Cotota's eyes twinkled. “So many colors!” She had her hands held out, a few short, fuzzy, lavender plumes rustled in her outstretched palms. Khashin sheepishly showed some deep blue feathers he'd been hiding, his other hand pushing aside some of his hair. These were a bit longer and thinner, with less downy fluff.
“These two said they had 'presents,' so I brought them along,” Ajai admitted. “I don't really know if they…removed them on their own to try and be helpful or not. I'm sorry if they hurt your birds. I figured they'd do less damage in here, instead.”
“It's ok,” Chiteni tilted his head to gesture them in. The brother and sister lay the feathers in the basket and Chiteni looked at them curiously. “What made you bring these, if I may ask…?”
“Wander wanted you to have them!” Cotota smiled, waving her hands in the air. “The big one!”
“Did she, now?” he mused. “What about the other one?”
“He stopped me,” Khashin said quietly.
“The blue one grabbed him!” Cotota pointed her finger at her brother firmly. “It was definitely because he was jealous at her idea. But he let Khashin ride him and not nobody else! It's not fair!”
“So long as Jay didn't hurt either of you,” Erenville's eyes widened. “He wouldn't even let me ride him.”
“I'm glad Jay has made his first friend ever,” Chiteni laughed. “He's very picky sometimes.” He looked back at Cotota. “You said this was at Wander's…suggestion…?”
Cotota nodded furiously. She then immediately walked over to the basket and started handing Ajai plumes. “Are you going to stand there? You've been complaining about watch for hours!”
“I-I was not!” he bristled, his pinkish skin turning even pinker.
“Were too!” she grinned at him, and Chiteni noticed she was missing several teeth. She almost seemed proud of it.
“Cotota, would you and your brother like to sort these by size for me?” Jebei suggested calmly, not looking up from his task. “I appear to have gotten them mixed up.” His golden eyes twinkled with sympathy for his younger brother, and he smiled. “Khashin can help Ajai.”
“Ok!” she bounced over to his side and let him explain - though not before grabbing a fistful of smaller feathers from his basket and blowing them into the air. Khashin watched her, his usual timid expression unchanging as he sat by Ajai.
Chiteni sighed, thinking of all his brothers and sisters. And not for the first time wondering how they were.
“Is this really necessary?” Chiteni grumbled as Erenville fastened the buckle on his chest.
“You did agree to my terms. For scientific integrity, I would know what forces are put on your wings and whether they pose any sort've risk to you physically.” He finished tightening the front and moved to the back. “The added weight will at least give you a good workout.” Chiteni couldn't see his face but he heard the grin on it. He snorted.
The straps belonged to a strange leather and wood harness that the Students had designed and fashioned with help from Tataru. It went around his chest and back, with a flat leather plate to help disperse the weight. The design had strange ‘arms’ that climbed the appendages and bent and folded with them. It all fed somekind’ve reading into the counter Erenville had hooked onto his pocket.
“I'm really not an expert but this stuff makes it a bit hard to move,” Chiteni grumbled.
Erenville paused. “Your wings are strangely suited more for agility than they are weight-bearing,” he began slowly. “You…may need some fairly strong currents to taxi you. But more than that: I am unsure how that structure will fare with the weight it's carrying, especially since you lack the lighter bones of many cloudkin. As do your wings, here.”
Chiteni sighed. “I know you're just trying to help. I appreciate it. I guess I just…I don't know. I don't like all the eyes on me. All the interest.” He thought of the Mol when they'd arrived. All those pairs of eyes. Their quiet shuffling and whispering.
“I'm guilty of that too, I suppose,” Erenville admitted. “But it is why it matters that we make sure to do this right.” He stepped back, looking satisfied. “We'll be doing a few different tests, but feel free to stretch out before we head outside. It probably wasn't comfortable holding still for so long, no?”
Chiteni braced his feet and shook off the anxiety and stress, his wings fanning out behind him and kicking up the air in the large tent. Dust motes full of animal fur and loose wisps of clipped feathers kicked up in the slats of sunlight filtering in through the openings, falling like snow. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the colors of his new plumage flashed past his vision in splashes of yellows, blues, pinks, and violets. Any and every color. It reminded him of the flowers he used to put in her hair.
Erenville was smiling, looking up at them. “You've really come a long way with these since we first met.”
“Yeah well let's just…get it over with. See if it was worth the effort,” Chiteni said shortly. He folded them as best he could with the harness restricting him and ducked out of the tent into the midday sun. Erenville quietly followed him, unsure what he had said.
Outside, Jay and Wander immediately perked up, nearly tripping over one another in their hurry to be with their master. A small group of children tumbled off of them and onto the ornate blanket where they'd been lying, with a couple managing to hold on and cheering for the free ride. Wander shoved her soft head straight into Chiteni's chest, pushing him backwards, while Jay poked at his wings with a nosey beak.
“Alright! Alright!” He carefully unfurled them, trying not to catch the breeze. “They're right here, ok?” he said, pointing to his left wing. A couple small lavender feathers next to a single threaded blue one. They hadn't needed everything, but even if the sizes weren't quite right, he had insisted they try to add them. His companions wouldn't appreciate if he ignored them.
Jay cooed, staring and flapping his wings with pleasure. Wander shoved him aside and pressed her face into her former feathers, snorting and snuffling them. Chiteni laughed and unwillingly flinched backwards, tickled. Wander took this as an invitation to press harder. Jay narrowed his eyes, annoyed; and the kids still clinging to Wander stared up in wonder.
“I helped make him a pretty bird!” Cotota came over, explaining proudly to the children. “He was boring before.”
Before Chiteni could respond, Cirina came running across the camp. “Chiteni!” she shouted, smiling. She ran straight at him, arms outstretched and tackled both he and Wander. The amaro was completely into it, nuzzling Cirina and rumbling gently, and Chiteni hugged her tightly.
“It's so good to see you!” he said, surprised. He held her at arm's length. “How did you manage to get away from Sadu?”
“She promised that if she got to see you fly, she would not ask you for a duel.” Cirina looked up at him proudly. “Temulun has every faith in you.”
Erenville was standing off to the side, head tilted sideways, smiling from one corner of his mouth. “We are working on getting to our proofing spot, as it were. There are quite a few distractions out here.”
“Oh!” Chiteni stepped aside slightly. “Erenville, I know you've met Cirina before. Hopefully you can actually…enjoy the circumstances this time.”
“I wouldn't miss this for the world!” Cirina smiled, giving him a low bow. “I apologize for abusing your title, Chiteni,” she said turning back to him. “I couldn't keep it a secret after Sadu accidentally tipped off Magnai, so I simply had to tell them the khagan was here visiting. The namazu jumped on the opportunity to have a festival over on Dhoro Iloh as well, and all the tribes are invited. Won't you come?”
“Cirina…how did Sadu find out to begin with?”
Cirina looked like she wished she could shrink to the size of a dust mote. “I…I am sorry. She was…suspicious. Of my visits.”
Chiteni sighed, smiling at her. “You don't need to apologize, I'm sure she has ways to get information out of people that are not…just torture.”
“We'll think about going to the festival after we see if I can do this,” he continued nervously. “I'm still not sure I can.”
“You do not need science to prove a certainty.” Temulun came out of her tent with a warm smile.
“Temulun!” Chiteni walked over to her, bowing low. “It's so good to see you. I hope you weren't interrupted.”
“I heard you were finally learning something, today,” she chuckled. “I would not wish to miss one of our children's bigger steps forward.” She looked over his wings slowly, reaching out an aged, wiry hand. He leaned forward, swinging one closer so she could run her fingers over some of the colored plumes. After a quiet moment she remarked, “They're like flowers, aren't they?”
“Y-yes. They are.” Chiteni took a deep breath, quickly changing the subject. “Wander, can you bring Temulun with us to the hilltop?”
“Just remember: it's all about shaping the air underneath you!” Erenville shouted over the wind. They had selected a nearby hill with no obstructions, the gusts buffeting everyone and making it a bit hard to hear. Chiteni knew they'd picked a day like this for the greatest chance of success, and he was hoping he could figure out how to take proper advantage of it.
Shaping the air, though? he thought with a snort.
He carefully unfurled his wings and they immediately began catching on the wind. He widened his stance so he wouldn't lose balance and tried to ignore all the eyes expectantly watching him. They were so beautiful in the sunlight: the green, violet, and blue hues hidden in his black plumage glittered in the rays; and all the other colors from yellow to red, white to pink, silver to azure - they all flashed and danced as they fluttered in the breeze. He wanted to take the time to admire his wings and the work everyone put into them, but he didn't want to seem self-obsessed by accident. I'll get plenty of time to look at them in private, I'm sure.
Fully extended they were about as long as he was tall on either side, and a small pit of doubt formed in his stomach. They're awfully small for what they're supposed to do, I see what Erenville means.
He had only ever seen them as inconveniently big. When he would bind them his chief concern was how tight he had to draw them into himself so they would be less noticeable under his coat. And nowadays when Tataru would tailor his outfits to accommodate them, she would occasionally make a comment about how much cloth she had to remove - not in a way meant to bother him, but it still did in many ways. The inconvenience to himself and others made them seem larger than life to him. Thus - now outstretched and ready for bigger things - they just…weren't living up to that image.
He took a deep breath and swung them downward with all his might. The force of the wind pushing back on them almost knocked him over, and the draft pulled him backwards slightly. I need like…upward lift. Not this. He leaned forward slightly. He figured - until he got a better handle on properly angling them with each wingbeat - maybe he could angle them the way he wanted to go to start with? He swung them hard again, this time the wind cupped beneath them. The grass below flattened and he smiled. That's more like it!
Jay let out a squawk from afar and flapped his own wings, Wander joining in. He watched them both: Jay with his impossibly small wings and Wander with hers. Neither was a strong flier, but they could still do so through their own naturally magical means. He smiled at their encouragement as he continued to press downward. It was getting easier with each stroke as the wind direction and pressure sort've fell away under the currents created by his wingbeats, and he felt the sort've relief you might feel stretching after you've been tightened up for hours. Before, when he had been exercising them, he had only done so indoors. The lack of feathers had made it so that any breeze kicked up by each beat was…thin and erratic. It made them difficult to flap in unison, as each weighed slightly differently. But now they almost made it easier for one another, each sculpting the air beneath them and pushing it down in tandem.
He rested his fingertips on the ground, bending over the rest of the way. Just a little. I don't need much, just a little!
He swung them downward as hard as he could and for the briefest of moments the grass shot away. It was the strangest sensation to just hang there, but the wind had other ideas. He immediately tumbled over sideways in a pile of feathers on the ground, laughing. Wander and Jay crowed loudly, his chocobo dashing over to pick through the jumble of limbs and find his face to nuzzle with the amaro standing nearby thumping her tail on the ground with pleasure.
“I knew you could do it!” Cirina smiled down at him, offering a hand. He thought of what a kind person she'd always been to him; her interest in his home and circumstances and the strange traditions of the distant tribes that raised him. Of how when he'd first come to the Steppe he'd felt so alienated by these people who were so different than he had expected - how he had shared his fears and disappointment with her and she hadn't judged. Temulun didn't even need to hear his story for her to start considering him as one of her children, and Cirina was every bit as willing to have a brother. He took her hand and pushed off the ground, hugging her. She buried her head in his shoulder and then looked up at him, smiling. “As if there was ever any doubt!”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. It really didn't matter if she had heard it or not, after all. He looked away, smiling.
“So I take it we are going somewhere for a party, after all?” Erenville interrupted, grinning lopsidedly.
Chiteni walked over to him, breathless in the wind but eyes shining. “Did you see that? It felt incredible!” The fact that he was hardly successful in actually going anywhere was the furthest thing from his mind. The adrenaline was making him feel a bit wired.
Temulun walked up to them slowly, Ajai, Jebei, Cotota, and Khashin in tow. Chiteni had no idea when any of them had gotten here. “You look a bit more like your reflection in the lake,” she mused with a smile. “You were always meant to be just the way you are.”
Chiteni hugged her gently, letting his wings drag on the ground at his sides. He wasn't sure quite what she meant, but he knew it would work its way into the light eventually. There was a brief flash of deja vu where he imagined a golden forest at sunrise or…was that sunset? Of a woman sitting beside him, her features obscured. They were talking, looking down into the still, reflective water as both the moon and sun still hung overhead. It was cool, a low mist hanging in the air. But just as soon as he saw it, it was frustratingly gone.
“I think I know what you mean, I just…have to remember it,” he said, staring at the ground.
Temulun nodded in understanding and from her side Cotota dragged her brother over to Chiteni's wings on the ground and into his feathers. “I didn't know the black ones were so pretty! Why don't you have more of them?” She demanded to know.
“Maybe he doesn't wanna talk about it, sis…” Khashin mumbled timidly. “I think he looks…kinda cool anyway.”
Jebei smiled and bowed. “It is good to see my khagan whole again,” he said simply. “Full glad am I to have been of assistance, my friend.”
Ajai nodded furiously, quickly bowing before popping back up like a child's toy. “Enough about that, we have things to prepare for!”
Author's Note: This got a bit out of hand, but I really can't help it! I don't want to sacrifice dialogue or descriptions, so I guess I'll do it in 3 parts rather than 2. I wanted to do more lighthearted stuff - and while this isn't as laden with meaning as the story I did the other day, there ARE still points of interest to look at. I can't leave out a good old festival and a REAL flight though! And once I finally beat M8S, I promise I'll get back to that story, too!
But!!! Imping!!! A real thing we do with real birds! I couldn't get it out of my head - the idea of him having these multicolored feathers I saw on this crow in a dream once. It was such a fun idea, and I look into it and it is ACTUALLY A REAL THING! Typically you wouldn't use a bazillion colors but I mean, what's an apex predator like the WoL got to camouflage into, eh? I wanted a solution to the problem of his neglect. His ill-fated first flight REALLY doesn't count bc he was mostly falling, and considering how long it would take him to replace feathers (and the frequency with which he would destroy them tbh), I wanted something that could tie back to him directly. The flowers he and his father put in his mother's hair, the colorful robes the Kha wear in my stories. Temulun gets it lol
Storge lay in a heap of feathers on the gravelly floor, Chiteni carefully waving the others back with a gentle hand. Ryne's eyes met his and he returned her gaze sternly, his mouth set in a hard, silent line. He would broker no argument.
~~~
She remembered her offer: to take some of the Light in his stead. Surely with her immunity she would fare just as well as he! It was a way she could help save her world. This wasn't even the Scions’ fight, and still they meant to protect her - when she had long since thought she'd proven herself worthy of her place by their sides.
But Chiteni had reprimanded her. She had never seen his dissent so swift and firm. His displeasure with her proposal had been obvious, and his reasons were clear.
“You should fight as you are. Not as who others wish you to be.”
She recalled how he and Thancred had gotten into a heated argument that night. She'd never heard the Warrior of Darkness so angry before. His manner of speaking was typically rather soft and reassuring, but this time his words fell hard and concise like hammers striking an anvil; their tone still even and quiet but with iron backing them. Thancred shouted in reprisal, the distance blissfully muffling the verbage; but she was concerned the two might come to blows as she watched their silhouettes dance in the lamplight against the wall from afar. Ryne knew what Chiteni had meant - that these two long-time friends were fighting because of her.
After their bout they had stormed off their separate ways; Ryne watching from the stairs as Chiteni staggered, leaning against a wall for support, breathless as he went to his room to rest. The cool night air blew through her hair, its chill gripping her exposed skin with the weight of a secret he doubtless didn't want her to know. But she did.
~~~
Here he stood, once again insisting he take the burden all upon himself. She knew he could feel what it was doing to him, and still…he'd go so far as to fight her for it. But now she felt she understood what it really meant. What he had really meant. And she realized those words he'd spoken were for her, but he himself was deaf to their meaning.
You're not alone, she thought sadly as she watched him. Y'shtola had once described what souls looked like to her. The way they smelled, the way they felt, their color - these things were less literal and more…dreamlike. A soul was almost a sort've place in a way; a reflection of the person it belonged to. It had seemed esoteric to her, and Ryne had brushed it off a bit as a metaphor she simply wasn't understanding. But with the power given to her by Minfilia, she finally saw.
Chiteni's soul smelled like cool air in the mountains. Dry, bitter bark, the wind over cold water, fresh wildflowers, and snow rolling off a distant peak. It sounded like the rustle of long grass in the wind as the blades gently brushed past one another. Of the distant scream of a swift breeze over stone, or of the rustle of a lake. It felt like things she'd never felt before: memories of some distant, otherworldly place - where her bare feet felt the cool grasses gliding between her toes as she ran with the wind in her hair and the warmth of home blossoming in her chest. It was one of the most beautiful things to ‘see.’ A soul.
Chiteni's felt…strained. In some inexplicable way. As if the world contained within was drawn on the soft shell of an egg and cracks were forming on its impossibly delicate surface. She couldn't imagine how it must've been before it had begun to crumble. Before the Light had wormed its way inside and started boring its way out; its slimy pearlescent tendrils wrapping around the seams like spiderwebs.
She knew why he wanted to protect her from it. If the rich world within each person was so beautiful, so full of life and color…it was worth protecting. Ryne watched as the Light moved towards and through him, sinking into the cracks with ease. He clutched his chest and she saw it flash as it seemed to lash out before calming back down. He looked exhausted, and only then did she notice the blood dripping on the floor.
Alphinaud had noticed too, for he ran over as soon as it felt safe, putting a gentle hand on his friend.
“I didn't see you were hurt,” he said nervously. “May I have a look?”
Chiteni nodded, exposing where Storge had stabbed him with its steely feathers. The plumes were still half-buried in the flesh around his ribs, but he was holding himself upright with little effort. He started helping the young healer to pull them out, and Thancred quickly and quietly offered some gauze, their squabble clearly forgotten when other matters demanded attention. It seemed fairly deep.
Before Alphinaud could finish, Chiteni pushed him away gently. “Let's go, I'll be fine. This place is…kind've unsettling,” he laughed quietly.
Alphinaud looked concerned but nodded. “I've given it enough aether that it should be alright,” he tried to smile. Ryne knew his capitulation was because he had seen it, too. The way Chiteni had reacted this time. The way his usual composed facade was crumbling; unable as he was to hide something that plagued him so deeply. But they all remained quiet, for what other path was there to take but to hope this was the right one? It didn't bear thinking about, much less burdening him further with concerns about devising a new strategy when there was such little time left.
Everyone set forth to go, and Ryne noticed the Warrior of Darkness hesitated briefly before taking a deep breath and joining in, following just behind the others. She fell into step beside him.
“You really don't need to-” she began, but he shot her a look. His red eye unsettled her, and it was the only one she could see from his right side.
“I'm fine. I know you and Y'shtola see something I don't. I'd rather not know what it is.”
“I wasn't going to say that,” she continued. “I was just going to say that we could have stayed longer, let you rest.”
Chiteni sighed, his shoulders sagging as they trekked carefully back up the steep slope and out of Storge's den. He held out a hand to her as they reached a steep incline. She watched as Thancred and Urianger boosted the twins up; her guardian's warm eyes looking back at her quizzically. It was rare she ever spent time alone with Chiteni, but this felt like a good opportunity. She grasped his bandaged hand and he lifted her with ease as if she weighed less than even his sword. Ryne could feel his scars and callouses underneath the soft cloth.
“Why do you wear bandages? Is it in case you need them? I notice you don't use them,” she thought back to how quickly Thancred had offered his own. As if the two had somekind’ve understanding between them.
“My Master used to wear some. Over their whole body. They said they'd been badly burned once - dragonfire, if you're curious. It burns even over water. It's…difficult to put out and scarred them terribly.”
“You say that as if you don't believe that story?” Ryne cocked her head slightly.
Chiteni smiled down at her. “No, I'm not sure I do.”
They approached a rickety wooden bridge, the boards partially bleached white by Storge's contaminating influence. The rest of their group was nearly on the other side, and a dark pit yawned beneath them. She wondered how deep it went.
“Why do you wear them, then?”
“To make my hands softer.”
Ryne thought about it for a moment, smiling. “I'm really not sure it's working.”
Chiteni clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch." He carefully stepped across the boards as they groaned and rattled under the weight. The ropes kicked up dust as they grasped them for balance across the treacherous surface. “Maybe I just don't want people to see.”
“Perhaps your Master also had something to hide? You two sound like you were similar.”
Chiteni didn't turn back to her but instead said softly, “I suppose we might have been.”
It had taken them time to descend to the furthest depths of Malikah's Well, and it was certainly taking time to trek back out. Ryne noticed how tired Chiteni was getting, his breathing ragged. She made note of the dark circles under his eyes, his lack of stamina, how during battle he didn't seem as sharp or aware as he had been when he first arrived. And she thought of the things they'd learned and shared about sin eater physiology. It was unsettling, though he had asked her directly not to share her worries, so she said nothing. No one did. Urianger had explained that their silent support was more important right now than fretting over his condition, and she felt somewhat comforted. A healer would know best, after all.
They reached a series of branching tunnels in their climb - almost out of the earth but not quite yet. They reached a gap in the stone floor, their torches unable to breach the strange darkness below. It was a bit far of a jump across, but the remnants of an old bridge held fast to the stone on the other side. Alisaie leapt across with practiced ease, her brother following along after and grasping the bridgeposts as he crossed over. It was still fully dark in these caves, but she could almost feel the warm morning air as their ascent brought a fresher breeze down to them.
Chiteni waved her on, and she cleared the gap like the others. She turned back to him, worry in her eyes. He was hesitating, looking at the ledge before him and the one he was on. Judging the distance. Thancred had stopped to watch as well, clearly noticing his friend's difficulty. Chiteni said something too softly to hear and then he made his jump - she wasn't even sure why she had been concerned: the force with which he threw himself across nearly took out Thancred.
Chiteni righted himself breathlessly on the other side, leaning on his friend. Thancred grinned at him, clearly pushing back the impulse to shove him. Ryne smiled at the two, glad that the path she had chosen - difficult though it was - had eased the tension between them. And just then she heard a terrible crack. The ground beneath the three gave way, and they tumbled down into the darkness below as stone crumbled and grit showered down. Ryne covered her head as she tried to make sense of what was up and down, desperate not to land poorly. She pulled out a dagger with her other hand and stabbed into the stone wall, the metal finding a crack and her descent halting suddenly amidst sparks of light. She briefly saw that they were nearly at the bottom before she heard Thancred and Chiteni's grunts as they slammed into the soft dirt floor a few yalms below her.
“Are you two alright!?” she hopped down the rest of the way, illuminating her weapons slightly to offer a bit of dim light. They had both landed on a sandy bed at the bottom, and more tunnels stretched out in two directions around them. Thancred was already clambering up onto a rock and tapping his linkpearl to contact those above. Chiteni lie quietly nearby. Ryne dropped beside him and tried to look him over in the low light. She thought about his wound and reached carefully towards him.
He growled, suddenly animated, and pushed her away. “I'm fine,” he snapped.
She tumbled onto the sandy floor, unsure why he'd reacted so strongly. Thancred was talking to the others on his linkpearl, so he hadn't seemed to notice. A moment passed, and soon Chiteni appeared to realize he'd shoved her, and he quickly got up and offered her his hand.
“Gods, I'm so sorry, are you alright? Nothing injured when we fell?” He pulled her up and looked over her, concerned.
“Well I hadn't fallen until you pushed me,” she tried to joke. Chiteni sighed with relief. “But I'm fine. I was just making sure you two weren't hurt.”
“I'm…” Chiteni held a hand to his chest, his fingers coming away much darker, “I'm pretty sure I am.”
She held up her lights and saw the blood on the floor. “But I thought Alphinaud healed you?” Thancred had finished his call and was looking down at them from the rock he'd been standing on. He jumped down to Chiteni's side and made him move his arms out of the way, swearing. “Why didn't you let him finish?”
Chiteni hung his head low, not answering. Thancred snorted, pulling out a flint and some gauze. “I don't have much for light and bandages. And I'm not a healer. But...I can't stop the bleeding otherwise.” His gaze hardened at Chiteni. “Ryne, can you see which of these tunnels might lead to the surface?”
She knew why Thancred was sending her away, and an unknowable expression briefly flashed across Chiteni's face. He stepped backwards, his eyes wide and glinting in the dark, contracting into slits as though he were staring at something bright. He started taking short, quick breaths, and Ryne swore she could hear his furious heartbeat. “I-it's fine,” he stammered. “I'll be fine. Just…make the torch.” He was shaking, his hands balled into fists. "I can handle it."
Thancred stared at his friend for a moment. Then his expression softened and he sighed. “Let's just use the gauze to wrap it up. We've got enough light.”
All the tension left Chiteni's body at once and he crumpled to the floor, closing his eyes. He didn't offer thanks, but his relief was clear.
Ryne had heard the Warrior of Darkness was afraid of nothing in the stories. But perhaps those sorts of fairytale renditions left out the more human sides of their characters so that those reading them felt safer. It was easy to believe in a paragon who never tired, who never ate or slept. Who wasn't afraid of the mundane. But the convenience of imperviousness wasn't really afforded to those in the real world. She stood up as Thancred sighed in resignation and Chiteni leaned there on the floor, trying to relax his breathing.
“I'll be back soon.”
The trek had only gotten longer with the added detour, as none of them could climb the steep rock face to easily escape. Especially not with Chiteni's injury. They'd used Thancred's bandages and the ones Chiteni kept on his hands to tightly bind the wound, but everyone could tell the fatigue and blood loss were taking their toll on him. He did everything he could to keep up, and he never once complained. But after a while he simply collapsed onto the ground, unable to keep going. Thancred offered to prop him up on his shoulder, and his friend didn't make a sound in response. His eyes were sightless and dull, as if he were barely still conscious. But he continued to move his feet.
“We should just let him rest,” Ryne said quietly. They'd been talking to one another for a while now, certain Chiteni couldn't hear them.
“He needs to get to someone who can actually heal him. And we don't have all day to reach them. We need to keep moving.”
“Is he…afraid of fire?”
“Yes.”
Ryne continued quietly for a moment, unsure if she should probe further. Thancred sighed.
“He was in a fire as a kid. At least, that's really all he's said about it. I can't tell you much more.”
“That's ok! I was just…He had such a strange reaction. Cauterizing the wound would be the most reasonable thing to do, and it surprised me he was so…affected. By the idea.”
“Sometimes it's not the wound you can see that bothers you,” Thancred said quietly. He shook his head. “I shouldn't have suggested it, I knew he wouldn't try to resist but…” he trailed off.
“I don't think he wants any of us to worry,” Ryne ventured. “But…I'm not sure he knows it only makes it worse.”
They had stopped before an old rickety ladder, and Thancred groaned. Chiteni's breathing had become very shallow and short, his skin cold and clammy. His tail dragged behind them in the dust, and Thancred was all but carrying him at this point. He set Chiteni down, shaking him.
“You need to wake up. This would be a pretty boring place to die.” Chiteni's labored breathing continued. No response.
Thancred continued shaking him, calling his name. Eventually Chiteni did open his eyes, and Ryne swore she saw the red one flicker in the dark. He said nothing and didn't move, but Thancred clearly took consciousness as a good sign. He removed his jacket and hoisted Chiteni up onto his back. The two were about the same size, and it always amazed her how strong Thancred truly was.
“Can you wrap my coat around us?” Thancred suggested. “That way I can climb and he…hopefully won't fall off.” He smiled at her nervously in the dim light and she did as he instructed as best she could; taking the buckle and lashing them together.
She offered to bring up the rear - just in case Thancred slipped. But he wasn't hearing it. “If either of us falls you don't need to go down with us.”
Chiteni's eyes closed again on their way up, and Thancred swore. “Just keep going. Go faster, if you can. We're nearly there. If you can find Alphinaud or Urianger…Just go.” Ryne bolted after she got to the top. The fresh air was even stronger here, and the tunnel was beginning to turn a ruddy orange as light reflected off the dingy stone. She burst out into the afternoon sun, her eyes squinting to see.
“Are any of you there? We need help!”
Alisaie popped up around the corner, her expression grim. “Thancred told us. Where are they?”
“I'll take you there! Is Alphinaud here? Or Urianger?”
“Both are present, I do reassure you,” Urianger came from where Alisaie had been, Alphinaud running ahead of him.
“I knew something was wrong. Please Ryne, lead the way.”
They found the two sitting in a small alcove, Thancred trying to get Chiteni to say something. He had some manner of medicine out - one that Ryne recalled he'd used on her once after she'd taken a bad fall. Chiteni managed to look at him, his ears lightly swiveling as the others came around.
Urianger smiled at Thancred and he got up and moved aside. Both Alphinaud and Urianger immediately got to work, though before long they both seemed tired. They were no closer to managing to seal the wound, but Chiteni was at least present.
“Please just stop,” he murmured. He made a halfhearted attempt to move away, but he was cornered. Ryne knew Thancred put him here, aware he'd react like this. Y'shtola made her way into the space, frowning.
“It's necrotic, isn't it?”
Chiteni sighed tiredly. “It won't heal, they're just exhausting themselves. I need stitches.”
“Is that what you've been doing?” Alphinaud said sharply. “You refuse every time I offer healing - saying you're unharmed. Yet I always see you at the infirmary."
“You got me,” Chiteni leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Ryne thought he meant it as a joke, but she was unsure. Alphinaud stopped healing and looked down, clenching his fist.
“You…I want to be able to help, too…” he trailed off, as if unsure what to say. Ryne knew the helplessness he felt. They all must've felt it. But Chiteni pushed harder anyway.
“I don't-”
Alisaie rounded on him, fury in her icy blue eyes. “Don't finish that sentence,” she hissed. Looking at her brother but continuing to direct her voice at Chiteni she continued, “You…The way you just…think you can do it all alone. How do you think it makes the rest of us feel!? Trapped in a place we don't belong, doing everything we can to try and help! For longer than you have been here! And you bring your Gods’ given gifts with you and brush us aside like we're in your way!” She pressed on, “We have lost friends here. I'm sick of you acting like we always need protection! As if we always need to let you take over and work your magic! That we should just step aside and let you kill yourself because it's what you…you…” she trailed off, turning away.
Chiteni was staring at the ground. “I'm the only one who can do this.” He got up, leaning against the wall. “I know I can't do it alone, and I'm grateful for everyone being here but…I don't want you to have to worry about it.” He looked at Alphinaud, “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't know you felt that way. I just…don't want you to waste time or energy trying to do something impossible.”
He staggered forward, immediately sliding down the wall to his knees. “I wish I was enough,” he gritted his teeth, pounding the floor. “This can't hold me,” he got back up again, this time standing up straighter. The way he'd said those words sent a strange chill down Ryne's spine. “Let's just head back already.”
This is part 1 of 3 parts! I do recommend reading these in order to make them make sense lol
The Sky Caged
Chiteni squirmed as Urianger swiftly snipped off the end of a broken feather, anticipating some form of pain. It was thankfully absent.
“Hast thou been plucking them off?” The elezen carefully set the broken shaft down, his expression concerned.
“I wasn't really sure what else to do with the…the broken ones. There's just so many. And they hurt when they…rub up against things…” Chiteni confessed, his words staggered and difficult. It had been a trial enough to accept Urianger's help fixing and cleaning them after he decided to stop binding them, but now he braced himself for a lecture.
“Ah, understood.” The elezen quietly went back to snipping without a word. His manner of speaking was reassuring in its brevity - as though he meant what he'd said.
Chiteni turned slightly from where he sat to look at his friend. They were in a temporary room in Bestways Borough, sitting at the central table. It was hard to tell what time of day it was up here on the moon, but it felt like some point in the evening. Small neon loporrit-shaped lights adorned the table, lighting it in pinks, blues, and yellows; and Urianger sat behind Chiteni with a sharp pair of clippers, a growing pile of large, snipped feathers resting beside him on the table as he attempted to help with Chiteni's wings. Neither was really sure what to do aside from work on relieving the constant pain they gave him, first and foremost.
“You're not going to tell me that was wrong? Sometimes it ends up just…hurting more, honestly.”
“I am without the scope of knowledge to approve or disapprove of thine actions.” Urianger put the clippers down, meeting Chiteni's eye. “Such queries would be more worthy of an expert's company, I should think.” He smiled. “Full glad am I to see them at all.”
“Someone like…Erenville, maybe…” Chiteni turned away again, thinking; his ears burned from Urianger's unanticipated softness. It should not have surprised him thus, yet it always did. The carefulness with which his friends regarded one another. “Someone who understands beasts. And the like.” There was a faint hesitation as the word left his lips. Beasts. As he presently realized what he was comparing himself to. His shoulders sagged slightly as a wave of difficult emotions weighed down on him.
“Mankind are as beasts, much as we fancy ourselves at a distance,” he suggested lightly. “What doest thou feel about the comparison?”
“I…” Chiteni paused. He kept opening his mouth to respond, but different answers kept mixing together before he could decide upon one. Whether it was a humbling comparison, an insulting one, a reasonable one. The tribes of beastmen were called that to belittle them compared to humans. But beasts were also graceful and to be admired…or to be feared. “A lot of things,” he said after a moment. “I know that isn't the most satisfying answer.”
“To assume one can simply bring to bear the entire breadth and scope of all the fauna of the star within a single sentence - thou needst not fear a failure to do so,” Urianger rested a hand on Chiteni’s wing gently. “Tis a reasonable limitation of language.”
“My father named me after beasts,” Chiteni ventured. “We used wolves to help protect our sheep. We trained them, raised them from pups, tied collars of bells and beads around their necks so we could discern their movements even in the dark. When I left home, I trained one on the mountainside.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “I never saw her as lesser for what she was.”
“Then thou needst not find insult in the term,” Urianger continued sifting through the feathers. “I do however, countenance caution in the treatment of thy body. For it is thine.” He paused before continuing, “It is good to see you on the mend.”
“I'm sorry for putting you all through that,” Chiteni looked down, fist clenched. “When we get back I've a lot of work to do.”
“It's called ‘imping,’” Erenville said calmly as he walked around observing Chiteni's wings. “May I?”
“Uh, sure. If it would help.” Chiteni had been exercising his wings every day as best he could. First, in the water. Until he could not bear to be submerged any longer. He'd grown to feel a pall of anxiety every time he felt the cold touch seep into his feathers. The weight of his wings pulling him down. Even when his feet could touch the bottom, that irrational fear slowly crept into his mind as time wore on, and he dare not push too hard. But it had helped him learn how to feel the new musculature on his back. Helped him learn to move them. He could prop them up and fold them against himself with relative ease, now. And the muscles were getting stronger, more pronounced.
Erenville lifted Chiteni's right wing as he stood beside him, examining it carefully. He gently lifted it up and down, as if watching the motion. He traced the edges of the longest feathers with his fingers as if trying to determine their shape without their missing segments, and he gently squeezed the tops and ends as if searching for thinner sections.
The breeze in Labyrinthos was chilly in the morning air: perfectly mimicked as it was from the world above. He would still marvel at this place on occasion. The mechanical sun trapped in a cage of glass and golden metal; the sky but panes of light carefully positioned so as to perfectly suggest freedom was but an ilm beyond the borders of its latticed surface. The ‘torches’ - as best he could understand them - were like braziers of glittering energy; aether gently flowing out in an effervescent turquoise shimmer. His eyes wandered as Erenville quietly poked and prodded. The gleaner's thoughtful silence was nearly deafening.
“Could you…walk me through what's on your mind?” Chiteni asked hesitantly. “I'd like to know more about them, myself.”
“Certainly,” Erenville smiled. “Always interested in sharing rare finds, if you don't mind my insinuation.”
Chiteni laughed, “So I'm somekind’ve exotic creature to you?”
“In…more ways than one,” Erenville mused. “I was wondering if your wings could sustain you in flight. With some magical augmentation that would of course be easily possible, but I'm interested to know if they could do so without assistance. So I'm looking over their structure - trying to determine what avians are most similar and how they learn and achieve success in the air.” Erenville went back to poking at the wing. “Different cloudkin use different methods - each has strengths and weaknesses. You mentioned water is a problem? So it is unlikely your feathers have the proper oils coating them that are found on fishing varieties.”
“Saltwater,” Chiteni said quickly. Quietly. “Saltwater is the worst.” He looked down.
“That actually helps to know, truly.” Erenville offered in comfort. He squeezed the top of the wing, “These smaller feathers are largely intact, I see. I'm glad they are not broken. These are the coverts. Lesser coverts, for these small ones.” He gently ran his gloved fingers over the smaller, rounded feathers. “And the ones on the edge around this bend are called marginals. The structure is often different, but you can identify similar feathers in most any type of bird.”
Chiteni was trying not to squirm with all the touching. “So these are…protective?” he ventured carefully.
“Just so!” Erenville looked at him with a fascinated smile. “I'd say they've done a fine job, holding up as they have.” His hands moved past the midsection to the feathers along Chiteni's back. “May I?”
Uncomfortable but wanting to know more, Chiteni nodded. Erenville gently peeled open a little bit of the ridge of Chiteni's cotton shirt, running a finger down the edges. “These are tertials. They provide shape and stability, to keep it simple.” His gloved hands caught on one of the scars beneath the feathery canopy, and his hand quickly retreated. “They…protect the skin. Where it meets the rest of the feathers. They are also doing their job well.” He offered a halfhearted smile. “My apologies. In my pursuit of knowledge…sometimes I forget the finer things.”
“It's fine,” Chiteni sighed. “I'm here to learn, after all.” He gestured to his wingtips. “These longer feathers definitely suffered the most. Will they…do they grow back, do you think?”
“Have you ever molted?”
Chiteni's eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
Erenvilled laughed. Chiteni was taken aback by the sound but seeing Erenville so motivated and focused made him smile in spite of his confusion.
“The only way to replace these feathers is to shed them, which we call ‘molting.’ And if you have no idea what I mean, you may not regularly do so. Which means they may take months - perhaps well over a year to return.”
Chiteni's ears flattened. “I'm not sure why you'd bother to wonder if I could fly, knowing that. They're so…ragged. Certainly in no shape for the air.”
“That is where the imping I mentioned comes in “ Erenville proffered. “Imping is a transplant. We take feathers from donor birds - preferably the same species or ones that share a similar wing structure - and we plant them in the needed areas. Though…I do not think we could find any of your kin to donate,” he smiled wryly.
“Very funny, wiseass,” Chiteni shoved him.
Erenville smiled and lifted the end of Chiteni's wing slightly. “Locating birds of similar structure would prove a bit of a journey. These are similar to a crow. But there are no crows big enough to meet our needs…There are some cloudkin in Othard which come to mind. We have a few specimens here in Labyrinthos but it is unlikely we have enough to fix your problem. We'd need to procure more. This way we don't take too much from any one donor.”
“I might know some people who would be willing to help. If you've got time for an expedition?”
Author's Note: I know this isn't the fight I promised, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing things before I attempt that, first! This is 1 of 2 parts I've had sitting in my drafts as like...half-chewed notes. I'll get the other half done soon! I was hoping to just do it all in 1 take but I realize that things don't need to be crazy long, and sometimes I don't need to trim the dialogue so hard. I can just let all the words be said for once lol!
I hope this is enjoyable - or at least informative on just a bit. I wanted to have a little fun with it. Maybe touch on WHY Erenville and Chiteni are as comfortably close as they are. But also just get down to brass tacs about some specifics on things concerning his wing shape & structure. Just some silly physiology stuff! But I realize it's easier to see in your mind's eye the more you know about it. Assuming you dont have aphantasia like me lmao
The moon beat down like a second sun. White heat radiated from its surface as it loomed large in the brilliant night sky - too large. The space above seemed almost consumed by its pearlescent magnificence, though the stars still twinkled fairly along its edges. It veritably hummed with presence and influence as it drew them around itself, swirling into the vortex of its massive plane. Chiteni felt it like a weight trying to crush him into the ground.
He staggered, trying to stay upright. On twos, then all fours. The brutal press of cold heat bearing down like the baleful eye of some unknowable god. It seemed to be judging, almost. He gasped, trying to get back upright. He could feel the weight grow heavier with his resistance - could hear a voice whispering words just out of reach of his ears. A maddening low-pitched chorus rose and rose, higher notes slowly joining in its incessant, beating drone. There was a sharp sensation in his chest and he felt as if something wanted to respond. The press threatened to crush him; the weight of a world above bearing down with cold malevolence.
Oh, Mother Moon.
The pain in his chest became a stabbing sensation. As if something were fighting its way out - his ribs a literal cage to contain it. Slamming, crashing, biting, gnashing. He tried to resist but it was wearing him down. He could feel that familiar change. His hair snaking down his back in a long mane, bones painfully stretching, limbs snapping into a new place. As if it was all too small a space…as if he were the one trapped, now fighting to get out. Slamming against his bars; gasping, growling.
“Please no,” he gasped. “This is a dream!” he squeezed his eyes shut, breathless and exhausted. He bit down.
You look so good in red.
His eyes snapped open at the unfamiliar voice, and the moon was normal in the clear night sky. He could smell something metallic. Warm. The sound of the watchwolves’ bells jingled softly in his ears on a summer night's breeze. Beneath him lie a figure, eclipsed by the size of his transformation. Their neck was broken and mangled, covered in teeth marks; and the body was coated in warm red blood. He could taste it dripping from long fangs as he panted, trying to discern who lay at his feet. It was a woman: her long, flowy creamy-white hair full of dead flowers, her violet skin giving rise to gentle rivers of carmine as it retreated into the grass. She opened empty, colorless black eyes to look up at him.
“Chinua,” she said. Wolf.
He reared back in shock, collapsing into the grass as she rose to stand silently before him, not a whisper betraying her presence, her body mangled and broken. Her neck barely hung onto her shoulders and muscle bled steadily as it stretched and tightened, visible alongside exposed bone. The bells on his collar chimed, and he could hear barking in the distance as other wolves caught the scent.
“Mother?” His voice was surprisingly clear.
She approached him and placed his head in her hands. Even from where he lay in the grass, he towered over her. She smiled.
“Your father was right about you. But I can help you.” Her dark, soulless eyes stared deep into his and he felt a pang of fear.
“Who…who are you?”
“Get away from him!” another voice snarled. A spear came rocketing through the dark, impaling the strange shade where she stood. It went through her body with ease, the sickening timbre of its force as it buried itself in the ground shocked him. She turned her head without moving her body, the neck snapping around, that serene smile still on her face.
“Husband,” she grinned through a blood-soaked mouth. “How did you get here?”
Chiteni felt a pain in his right eye and he covered it with clawed hands, rearing back with a hiss. The wings on his back moved almost without input, kicking up a storm of wind with each beat as if some other force had control of them.
Did I do this to her? he wondered deliriously, feeling the soft flesh of her neck snap between his jaws again. The taste of blood; warm and thick on his tongue.
You look so good in red.
Red. Red covering his fur, his hands. Coating his mouth. The smell of it. Sticky and hot and thick. His eye hurt so terribly. Red. Like it was on fire. He leaned forward, dazed and retching; blood oozing from his parted jaws.
Do you hear your bells, wolf?
He collapsed forward again, feeling exhausted. He felt a gentle hand on his muzzle, petting him gently. So gently.
“You can let go.” Her voice said to him. It was so soothing. He missed hearing it so much.
“She died in the fire,” the man's voice said from nearby. “You know that. You…you brought the knights to the camp that night. Do you remember any of it?”
Chiteni jolted from the pain in his eye. It was as if something was resisting.
“Is someone else there?” he murmured. He couldn't understand. Someone had said something…right?
“Chiteni.” He opened his left eye. His father stood over him, that characteristic frown on his face.
Mazalai. The voice issued from his own mouth, though he had not uttered it.
“Chiteni, this is a dream. That's all it is. But you need to wake up before someone else gets hurt.”
“Someone…else?” his own voice this time. He felt as though he were swimming through a thick swamp, searching for light. Something kept pulling him back under.
You've learned some new tricks, old man. The voice parted his own mouth to say the words, trying to snap at his father's nearby hand.
“So have you. I won't let you get the better of him.”
“How have you been?” Chiteni said mundanely. He tried to smile, relief washing over him. “I'm ok, I think.”
Mazalai frowned. “You can keep secrets from him even when I'm speaking directly?”
It is better for him to be happy, no?
What is he talking about? “I'm not keeping secrets from you. I'm sorry I haven't tried to come home,” he insisted.
A crooked smile spread across Chiteni's fanged maw, his red eye glowing. He does not hear a word, you know. Why do you not enjoy a little chat?
“Where did you get this kind've influence?” Mazalai asked through gritted teeth.
A caged bird can do little else but sing.
“Can you hear me?” Chiteni asked quietly. “I was just thinking about you. About working up the courage to come home. Is this still a dream?”
Mazalai rubbed his brow, frustrated. “Yes. Yes I can hear you. I…I want you to come. If you can.”
Ever the loving father.
“I will! I promise. It just…it hurts.”
Mazalai took the chance and rested a hand on him. “I cannot imagine how much it does. But you're not a child anymore. You haven't been for a very long time. Get up.”
Chiteni groaned, lifting off the ground, his red eye burning as it tried to keep him down. He shook off the pain and stood, suddenly just…his normal self again. He looked away.
Mazalai reached down and embraced him tightly. “You're so much taller,” he said quietly.
Chiteni could hear how his voice cracked when he said it. He buried his head in his father's arm, saying nothing, the pain gone and forgotten.
“I need you to listen,” Mazalai said, holding him firmly at arm's length. “Wake up. You don't have time for this. You need to wake up. And promise me you won't use that thing ever again.” Mazalai looked at Chiteni's regulator with an unknowable expression.
“But this is just a dream, right?” he smiled.
Author's Note: Hey hey! I'm not dead! I've been having a hard time irl lately. I thought about like, doing some serious edits to this - it's actually pretty rough. Mostly a string of consciousness. I'm unsure where to place it yet, either! But it's connected to everything going on, and I want to post it to just...get the weight off my chest a bit. I also decided to give Red-Eyes a red coloring just to maybe make things more clear when it is speaking. I may change my mind, I'm not really sure yet lmao
Anyway that song is stuck in my head, I'm gonna go listen to it another 20 times, now.
Honestly haven't really felt like writing anything lately - just a bit burnt out. Not bc of writing or anything! Just sort've exhausted by the pace of all the insane things happening in my life right now. I haven't even been able to properly enjoy the game in about two months!
I'm going to be briefly moving to a group house about two hours north of my apt on the 9th to go to school for four weeks, then I may be staying even longer as they teach us how exactly freelance work is going to go. I know I'll be busy once I get back, too. It's all pretty overwhelming - and on top of THAT I'm still chipping away at the EX and doing savage. And a couple of my friends want us to go BACK to Aloalo...[wartime flashbacks]
But if this job means I can do something I love AND save up money to do things I'd like to try (like pottery and more blacksmithing) then I think it'll be worth it. I'm under no impression that it'll be easy, however. Still, it's not a bad time in my life, I'm just not used to so much all at once, I'm so tired all the time. I do want to write for the ppl who read it (and for myself!!) but atm things are just going a bit too fast, so I'm just finding rest where I can!
I appreciate everyone who has read my stuff and there will be more in a little while after I get a nice break in 🖤
This what you do to me. This what I let happen to me.
Over and over again.
Because this is love, isn't it?
We can become so very important to each other. We to someone else. Someone else to us. So important that the other becomes the only one for us. The only one we want to keep forever.
There is nothing stronger or more beautiful than this. Not in our eyes, for whom love is everything.
That is why a chain forms between us. A chain to bind us together with love. That unites us with one common heart.
This chain we free beings choose to wear. If it only means that we get to be together with the one we love.
But what if one day the chain becomes very heavy to bear? When the other end of the chain becomes angry. When that other, who is so dear to us, chooses to hurt us.
Who cares? Mistakes happen.
For however, that other apologizes to us. Tells us they didn't mean it.
We know that. We know, because everyone makes mistakes. We may cry, discuss and make promises. That's why we say everything is okay.
What does this one time matter?
Or second time.
The third time.
The fourth time.
Who cares how many times we are hurt.
After all, our loved one apologizes to us. After all, there's this chain between us.
A sign that we love each other.
But even if we, blinded by love, can't see it, that love between us gets tarnished. Tarnished and rotten. Every time we are hurt. Because beyond our blindness, there is still this part of ourselves that loves ourselves. Part that knows that in this life, we deserve only the best. Not pain disguised as love.
The love between us is tarnished. Crumbling. Until, hopefully, it breaks.
It must break. Before it's too late.
But all this pain for nothing. If only we had known that the chain doesn’t have to get tarnished and rotten first. It doesn't, because the chain can be broken at any time we want. Any time. When we are no longer good for each other.
It may be the scariest thing we ever do. But the chain can be broken.
“My identity,” Chiteni muttered, clenching his fist.
“I'm afraid I didn't hear that, upstart,” Retsarra taunted, tilting his head up slightly so his bangs fell in an appealing way for the camera underneath the brim of his cap. It sounded harsh, but Chiteni knew the Cruiserweight champion was simply off his guard looking for a handhold.
Chiteni looked at the miqo'te, his mismatched eyes hard. “The thing that matters most to me. My identity. Not titles or actions but…my experiences. The steps I've taken to get here.”
Retsarra seemed thoughtful, his amber eyes flashing. “How do you intend to bargain something so nebulous?” his question seemed genuine, a quizzical hand on his chin. “That's not something so easily given up. So what do you plan to do? When you lose?”
Chiteni pulled his regulator from his pocket, proffering it forward. “Forfeit my memories. I suppose.” He pocketed the device. “But I won't be losing - least of all to a man who won't move to save those who matter to him,” Chiteni said the last bit coldly, fangs flashing and straightening himself as his tail lashed with challenge.
Retsarra bristled slightly, but he quickly regained his full composure with that winning smile. “I reckon your audience will enjoy the match, Honey,” he turned to look at the cameras as he spoke. He tipped his head courteously as he moved to walk away, stopping at the last moment. “I look forward to learning more about you in the ring, Chiteni.” He glanced over his shoulder with a sly grin. “One-on-one so nobody gets in our way, I should think.”
“I suppose it's my turn to ask what you mean by that?”
Retsarra didn't pivot to look at Chiteni. “You and that kid Silver use the same soul.” Chiteni stiffened but Retsarra continued, seeming not to notice, “That cauahepya. I'd like to see how it fares against my Fenrir. It sounds like a fine matchup.”
“I don't use feral souls to fight,” Chiteni countered, still rattled.
Now he had Retsarra's attention. The Cruiserweight champion cocked his head slightly, looking Chiteni up and down. His amber eyes seemed to truly see him for the first time. Not merely as the person trying to get between him and the president but…as if Retsarra were imagining the fight already. There was a spark of something - a glimmer of his will to live, perhaps. A crack in his armor as he stated plainly, “You will if you want to fight me.” He spun and trotted off, shooting over his shoulder, “You want it as much as I do.”
Chiteni sat on the edge of the building, his legs hanging over the side. He turned Silver's regulator - his regulator - over in his palm, watching the soft violet light play across its smooth surface. He thought about waking up in Origen's facility: wet and shaking from being submerged in that tank, his sodden wings tied behind him. Of everyone crowding around him happy to see him while his heart raced from the noise and lights and the strange duality he felt. Of reaching for the regulator; its contours alien but somehow a comforting presence in his hand…
“It is no ordinary creature,” a familiar voice resonated behind Chiteni, shaking him from his thoughts. Erenville was hanging off the side of the building, his arms resting on the roof. He climbed the rest of the way up, standing over his friend with a placid expression. “That soul. Retsarra thinks it is just a cauahepya.”
“I heard it was called a ‘lugarhoo.’ What is that? Is it a familiar name to you?”
“It's more of a folktale,” Erenville grunted as he sat down next to Chiteni, his gaze turned out over the city. “I see why you come up here, the view is quite amenable.”
“Erenville.” Chiteni raised an eyebrow.
“It's got many similar names. But it is a bloodthirsty creature. A massive silver cauahepya that some say was once a man. Or it could turn into a man. Or mimic human speech.” He shrugged. “It really depends on who is telling the story. In some tales in order to defeat it you need a cloudy night because it is impervious if the moonlight touches its fur. Sometimes its power is stored in one of its eyes. Other times you can only see it through a keyhole or a special device.”
“So it's not real, then,” Chiteni sighed.
Erenville seemed thoughtful, his head tilted slightly as the sound of vehicles droning by through the air filled the space between his words. “Myths are based on…mistranslations. Or displacement. Differing accounts may simply be the result of different experiences. The axiom of existence isn't something that is as simple as whether we have discovered something officially.” He seemed focused, looking at Chiteni's regulator. “I don't think you can call it a myth if you're holding it in your hand, however.”
Chiteni leaned back, collapsing onto his wings with a puff, the hard electrope surface cool on his back. “So you're saying - in the most roundabout way possible - that there's a bloodthirsty, evil-eyed, moon-blinked, can-only-see-it-through-a-keyhole, man-dog in this thing. Or it could be none of those things at all. Is that right?”
“Well theoretically yes.”
“You're about as fun to talk to as my Master, Erenville.” Chiteni sighed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Have you ever traced folklore back to an actual creature?” Erenville's trade was entirely in creatures. Chiteni himself had met a myth or two, but never intentionally out of pursuit of it.
“Not many times, but I've had the pleasure more than once, yes.”
“How many of the tales were true?”
“Not a one, my friend,” he smiled, and Chiteni exaggeratedly collapsed onto his back once more. Erenville's quiet laugh wound its way through the temperate air and into the drone of machinery that permeated Solution Nine. Chiteni smiled in response, a tired hand over his face.
“Why say something to pique my curiosity and then inform me you have no idea if anything about it is even true?”
Erenville paused a moment, causing Chiteni to look up at him.
“Erenville?”
“You intend to fight Retsarra on his terms, don't you?”
“I…” Chiteni trailed off, looking away. “Yes.”
“In order to make a tale such as that, the creature in that regulator must be long-lived. And clearly you struggle to mesh with it - do not act as though we were unaware.” Erenville's tone hardened. “You come back to them and then hurt yourself trying to help. You don't think they aren't concerned? That you'd do so again just for a challenge?” Erenville turned to him, frowning. “It is not a vidraal, but you cannot control it, can you?”
“I can. I know I can.”
“Are you trying to convince me?” The latter half of his statement hung in the air, unsaid.
“I've used it several times, ok? And I've shown no signs of psychonekrosis, either.”
“Silver used it. You only have twice.”
“That's the same thing, Erenville!” Chiteni growled, getting up. “You only came here to try and stop me from doing this. I'll admit: Retsarra was right. I am doing it for me. Because I want to.” Chiteni's tail lashed angrily. “But not because I want to fight him. I don't.” He exhaled, looking out over the skyline. “He…reminds me of myself a bit. That apathy. He doesn't care if he lives or dies because he doesn't even know he is alive.”
Erenville sat quietly, simply listening. He clearly wasn't judging just because he didn't approve: it was more as though he were watching an animal's behavior. An ear twitched slightly.
“He has so much and he doesn't even care,” Chiteni spat.
“You're mad at yourself. Not him, then.”
Chiteni sighed, relaxing. “I guess so.” His eyes met Erenville's. “I need to talk to him. And if this is how to do it, I have to.”
“Is it worth the risk of losing?” Erenville asked. He seemed concerned, his cool facade set aside.
“You're doing this for yourself, too,” Chiteni said quietly, looking down at him. The sincere concern hung in the air.
“It's…simple to find people. They're complicated, unlike animals, yes. But they have a tendency to return to familiar places all the same.” Very matter-of-fact. But also not an answer. Just an explanation of why they were on this roof together.
“Look at it this way,” Chiteni ventured, “If I can't handle it, there's more to worry about than me losing. But…I can't explain it - I don't think this thing is any of the stories you told me, either,” he looked at the regulator, warm in his palm. Lights off.
“You think it's peaceful?”
“Use your own logic: how did it live so long undetected if it was as savage as the stories say? Surely it would have been hunted.”
“Or perhaps none lived to say otherwise.”
“Then where do folktales even come from?” Chiteni closed his eyes. “You came here to gauge whether or not I was thinking this through. If I knew the risk I was taking. But some things are worth the risk. Everything worth doing is hard - you know that.”
“I suppose. Far be it from me to stop you when even those closest to you have admitted to a lack of results in that field,” Erenville said bitterly.
Chiteni stiffened, taken aback. “I didn't know- I'm sorry, Erenville. I'm listening. I've just made up my mind. We have to help these people. Or they're all going to end up dead or like Hector.”
“I should be the one apologizing,” Erenville puffed, deflating. He offered a resigned smile, “I shouldn't have doubted your intentions. After all you've done. It was wrong of me.”
Chiteni shook his head, sitting back down. “No I…you would've been right. Before…” he hesitated, starting again, “I've never been a pacifist, if I'm being honest.” He placed a hand over his heart, looking down and exhaling. “I would have been doing it for the fight, not for Retsarra or Hector or…anyone. Once upon a time, anyway.” Chiteni ran a hand through his hair anxiously, meeting Erenville's watchful eyes. “You're right to doubt my reasons. I'm the one who's changed.”
“You should try to speak with him.”
“I did - I really tried once already. This is the only language he seems interested in,” Chiteni narrowed his eyes. “A part of me is hoping he'll put up a fight for what I did to his best friend.”
“Hector didn't exactly leave room for diplomacy,” Erenville said dryly. “You couldn't have talked him down.”
“Then let's not suggest further pressure would work here, either,” Chiteni shook his head. “No. I will beat him at his own game - with his own rules. But I promise I won't use my regulator unless I absolutely have to. I just…might have to.”
“I trust you,” Erenville said calmly, not looking at him. His eyes wandered towards the streets below. He seemed at ease now that he'd spoken his mind.
Chiteni was surprised, but he relaxed, looking out over the city, himself. Even with everything that had happened lately, the rhythmic pulse of the lights and the steady bustle of the people moving on with their day-to-day lives seemed like an inevitability. He understood at once why Retsarra might downplay his existence here. In this unforgiving, ever-moving landscape of metal and light - where lives were commodities and your very essence was currency. He thought about all there was to fight for, however. It wasn't as if this place was dead or dying. There are always arms reaching out if you simply have the will to grasp for them.
“I can't lose, then.”
Author's Note: Yay, another storyyy! I'm gonna build this one up slowly, I think. I really want it to have that sort've narrative oomph you can only get from waiting patiently for something lmao But I really am sincerely looking forward to the conclusion of the Arcadion story. This has been my favorite raid series by MILES, and I've gotten so much out of it. I don't care how many people seem to hate Retsarra and Eutrope's relationship: leave that at the door because we are here to enjoy beating sense into this stupid catboy
So recently I've been trying to get a friend to tell me more about their WoLs, but ofc they are UNBEARABLY NICE [you know who you are] and insist that I share stuff about mine too in return. So I'll start this 1 character at a time (I actually have 4 FFXIV characters!) and I'll slowly talk about them with reblogs. If I'm understanding tumblr right lol But I'll post these kinda slowly
I'll try to add pictures for them at least, so I'll hafta log in and take a few, especially for Ibahko and Ira. I don't play them often but they also have stories! But first a little info about how I see my 'WoLs:'
So I don't actually differentiate my WoLs from myself, their own story, or the MSQ. Some actions or events might seem contrary, but I don't see contradictions as like...a break in their natrative. My characters exist primarily in my mind and that means that they're a bit nebulous by nature.
Chiteni is the easiest for me to make an example of, here: let's take the DRK questline in general. He IS the WoL in his story. The one in MSQ. Those events do happen in his story - including meeting Fray and Sid and Rielle. HOWEVER in his personal canon he wasn't trained by them. He had another teacher entirely. And he met his Shadow when he was young - a little ways into his 8th summer. These two things kind've conflict because they are both his canon. The DRK questline is just as real to him as the headcanon I made. I see no reason I can't just have both just because some folks find that confusing! He isn't 'trained by a knight then by Fray later' he is trained by them separately and simultaneously. They are BOTH his first teachers. You could see them as divergent paths if that makes it easier. Or even alternate timelines. Whatever makes sense to you.
But just as I refer to him as 'me/he/we;' he has his own story, he's the character in the game's story, AND he is my avatar that I play as. These things don't exist to cancel each other out; they exist simultaneously and separately whenever I want them to.
I at least want to establish this before I start to talk about them, because I know people feel very differently about the importance of actually being the WoL vs saying like..."My character isn't actually the WoL." All 4 of my characters are, and though their personal stories may conflict with the canon plot, I just want to make it known all of it is still part of their stories. I don't feel the need to say my characters aren't the WoL because like...'how can Chiteni be trained by Fray AND the knight from his childhood if he's been a DRK since a young age?' These are stories and they're meant to bring me happiness. The cake isn't real. I can have it and eat it, too. Everyone can. Contradictions don't bother me because my mental landscape isnt made of solid ground, anyway. Why should their stories be founded upon such?
That's not to say I mean disrespect if it matters to you, ofc! My characters are me/them/us simultaneously at all times and that's just how I like it. If there's a contradiction I honestly am not bothered by it. So with that said, I'll post about them in response to this soon! I hafta think of what I want to actually SAY tho lol
But I'll be going over both headcanon and MSQ so I just want to be sure nobody is confused
Eye Color: Light Lavender (left), Berry Red (right)
So this is Chiteni! He's my 2nd character in FFXIV. Originally an alt I played with my sister but I bonded with him a lot so he became my main. He was a Xaela when I made him, and I bounced around to all sorts of races until I settled on a Keeper Miqo'te around the time I was doing Crystal Tower. I switched simply bc I wasn't a fan of male Au Ra facial expressions! That's really all - I didn't mind the silly run LOL
A little trivia: he originally had much darker hair (almost black) and a red tail tip! I lightened him up some in Heavensward and switched to the fluffy tail bc I found the red tip distracting while I was playing lmao! The red highlights actually come from how I really enjoyed G'raha back during Crystal Tower, and ofc I finally like a character so...you know. He can't STAY in the story. The heterochromia is simply his limbal rings (lavender) plus his eye color (red) from when he was a Xaela.
Where to start with him honestly - I've been playing since 5.3. I made him sort've on a whim: the antithesis color-wise to my lalafell at the time. She was a little ray of sunshine so he was my big moody raincloud. He also has a twin sister! Her name is Cicilei - she was raised in Ul'dah by a couple wealthy lalafellin mechants. She looks identical to him pretty much, just pink streaks in her hair instead of red. They even have the same eyes - albeit swapped sides. He doesn't know about her, nor she him.
Personality-wise he's a bit of a downer sometimes. He doesn't get most jokes because of his isolated upbringing, but he's very thoughtful and gentle. Getting a smile from him is honestly a chief goal amongst his friends! He's hard on himself and sometimes a little obstinate and careless - he also keeps secrets ESPECIALLY if he is worried others will object, and he handles criticism a bit poorly so he tends to keep plans to himself. He's strong in the right sort've ways but there is a certain darkness in him he feels is there, even if he isn't sure what it is. It's a companion to him - though one he hasn't ever seen and doesn't feel the need to. I'll elaborate on it as I write more!
The Beginning
He was raised in the mountains of Coerthas by Od Mazalai (father) and Surelun (mother) - two Xaela who adopted him. His name comes from chinua-teni, which means 'of wolves.' If you've read my stories you may note his mother calls him Chinua a lot. I have put a few references to the reason behind his name in my recent stories, as well! It has a lot to do with plot points I've yet to cover but in short: his father compared him to a wild wolf - and not in a positive way. It has a lot to do with how they ended up adopting him...which I've yet to go into detail on. But the Kha (his tribe) also train and use wolves to guard their karakul. So his mother takes a more hopeful approach to it; in that he can learn to fit in even if he's dangerous. In my story the watchwolves' collars are beaded so that they rattle in the breeze (sometimes adorned with bells), and he also wears hair beads his mother made for him from the spiked collar of a watchwolf he played with as a really young kid. There's a lot of layers to it I can't really go over, but that's the superficial reading, anyway.
The Kha in my story are artisans and traders. They love making art and adore EVERYTHING colorful, so they tend to trade with the Ixal for things - like their feathers as an example. They also trade with the other Au Ra of the mountains for goods and gossip. But none of the Xaela of Coerthas really communicate with Ishgard. They're seen as heretics based on their appearance alone, so put a pin in that.
Chiteni learned how to be a dancer before anything else. It was a skill he could cultivate specifically for himself when he came up short compared to the young Xaela men. The Kha have a fairly strict binary and he really doesn't fit well on either side of it as a kid. This honestly causes him more issues growing up than it does others, especially because it makes him resentful towards himself. He feels he's lacking in a lot of ways, and even though he is surrounded by supportive and kind people, that feeling is one that never really goes away. He carries it well on through his years. It makes him seem a bit ungrateful, really; but he has plenty more reasons to feel that way. The people around him truly accept him, but a large part of his story is learning to accept himself.
The Fire and the Knight
When he was about 8 one winter, Temple Knights raided his home. Unlike most of the tribes in the mountains, the Kha were largely stationary: living in a large valley by a winding river. They were easy to locate and attack - basically a simple target for the Holy See to make examples of for all the Xaela living in the mountains. And so they did.
I won't go into detail as to how the fire itself got started, but a young Chiteni finds himself trapped in their tent with his mother. She dies in the struggle with a Temple Knight, the central beam collapsing on her. Beforehand she covers Chiteni in furs to protect him from the fire, and when morning comes his father pulls them both out of the ruins. A different kind of knight comes to collect Mazalai's son from him after the event: this one completely wrapped in cloth from head to toe. His father is hesitant to let him go, but there seems to be a sort've agreement between the two. Chiteni is unconscious and ill for the whole event, so over the years it sort've evolves into the feeling his father never came to find him. That he had been kidnapped. The knight never tries to tell him the truth.
This knight takes him to a cave near the highest mountain peak: isolating him and intentionally keeping him there against his will. The knight themself is unknown to him and narratively I do not gender them. He doesn't know what race they are under all the bandages and armor, nor their motives. And they're quite private, so the information isn't exactly forthcoming. They simply explain that their body is badly burnt (suggesting dragonfire) but that's about it. Any attempts to try and glean information are met with swift admonishment, so he just learns not to pry.
They have known about him since he was a baby, and there seems to be important info therein. Chiteni only sees them as his kidnapper for some time, however. He exhausts himself time and time again trying to descend the mountain alone to escape. It's designed as a test he's meant to fail, and he does so for more than a couple months. Eventually they are attacked by a wyvern after his routine capture and return to the cave, but instead of escaping he uses the knowledge and smarts he has gathered from training and his escape attempts to help his captor. They eventually become close as he thinks of how - if they'd meant him harm - they simply would have already done so.
In a few years time when he's a teen, he and his master (a devout of Halone) go to Ishgard to fulfill contracts as hired hands. He picks up his faith from them and the people around him, but he never tries to run: having convinced himself he is better off on his own. I don't mean to paint his master in a negative light, however. They simply don't tell him the truth because they want him to find some way to be happy, and resenting his father for not rescuing him is the best way to keep him from returning and being a danger to his people. It is a duty, not necessarily the knight's honest wish. They know things about him he does not, and he is safer with them.
After their death fighting a dragon. Chiteni chooses to go out on his own rather than try to go home. He continues taking his contracts as he goes, and eventually we stumble into the MSQ from there!
The MSQ
If you've played FFXIV then there isn't much of note different aside from some of his personal responses and reasoning and actions. He keeps his past on the down-low though it's very hard to avoid how deeply socially awkward and backwards he is. He cannot read nor write, having never been taught; and trying to get him to learn through his stubborn pride and excuses has been a test of every Scion's patience - Krile chief among them. She and he have a sort've special connection. And while they're not romantically interested in each other, they're very close...which makes it an even harder pill to swallow that he won't listen to even her.
Then there's Shadowbringers. There's so much to be said that still HASN'T been touched yet, but for Chiteni he is marked by the experience. During his fight with Innocence on Mt Gulg, a bird-like sin eater grabs his back, clawing it severely. And when he is unable to keep in the light, it tries to escape where his flesh is the weakest; manifesting as two massive black wings from the wounds on his back. He cannot use them for some time: partially because he is disgusted by and afraid of them, but also because he struggles to move the muscles properly. I mean do YOU know how to move a limb you've never had?
For a time they simply drag behind him, and he binds and hides them so as not to scare the people of the Crystarium. This continues on until Endwalker, when Zenos posesses his body. The prince is more than a little annoyed Chiteni sees this clear advantage as something to stunt, and he unbinds them and admonishes him. While I can't say Chiteni cares much for what Zenos thinks, he realizes he's been punishing himself for something that wasn't his fault - and by extension he's been hurting the people close to him who are affected by his unhappiness. They watch him tighten the bandages every day and say nothing because they don't want to tell him to stop hurting himself if that's what he wants. So he lets it go. Learns to use them.
The Wings
So I'm not going to go into extensive detail on my personal reasoning for having these. But I like doing FATEs and I just bought them myself lol
As for Chiteni tho, theyre a source of irritation more than an advantage. Firstly: he bound them for a good amount of time. Their muscles were incredibly weak because of this, and many feathers were broken. They dont hurt quite the same way other body parts do: they're largely low on pain except for where the feathers meet flesh. They're incredibly sensitive at those points. So while breaking feathers doesnt hurt, plucking them does quite a lot. He has to exercise them a lot in order to use them for flight as well! It takes quite some time into Endwalker before he can actually confidently fly. And it's exhausting, so he doesn't do it much.
His back is terribly scarred from the attack. Sin eaters are largely already dead, and it's difficult to heal the afflicted because their natural strength is kind've in short supply. So he had to be stitched up - and he was not a very good patient. The weight pulled at his stitches and he tore them more than once before the wounds healed.
They are like corvid feathers! They're coated in a natural oil that makes them at least slightly water-resistant, but saltwater erodes and damages this coating. He is also susceptible to being waterlogged and can no longer easily swim. So while he could breathe underwater with the kojin's blessing, he quickly panicks and if he doesn't believe it will work...it won't. So he avoids water entirely for fear of drowning.
He generally keeps the wings close these days. He tries not to make them noticeable by pulling them tightly towards himself, but he's also not afraid to use them. He can pad their 'shoulders' and use them in physical fights as an extra limb to swing high or low, which makes him a mess to fight in a melee. The only way to sincerely hurt them is to rip out the feathers; which isn't difficult but he can retract and extend them incredibly fast, so they're difficult to get ahold of!
He generally doesn't let people touch them, but he is relaxed around people he's close to and he tries to ignore them altogether. Just another part of himself he had to accept after some time being rejected.
Silver and the Present
So Silver is REALLY complicated and if you want to understand him at least a little better, I recommend reading my stories from FFXIVwrite 2024. But to make a long story short: Silver is a younger clone of Chiteni who had his soul in his keeping for a time. He's a young Arcadion fighter who uses a lugarhoo soul: it's basically a cauahepya (a type of wolf from Shaaloani) that has lived an incredibly long time to the point it was aging into a vidraal. Its soul was captured well before it could reach that point, and Silver was an experiment to see if the WoL's soul could handle something at least close to a vidraal's power.
The lugarhoo causes both Silver and Chiteni a lot of pain to use: neither soul necessarily mixes well with the other, strong as they are. During his brief time, Silver (stage name Silver Bullet) carved his own identity onto Chiteni's soul and the people around him; and when the time came to give it back, he was more forced to rather than completely willing. His body was only temporary, and the person making them stopped because their tests were done - they had no use for Silver as a person, just as Chiteni's soul.
When Silver comes back to Chiteni they're both changed by the experience: Chiteni now retaining the will, experiences, memories, and interests that Silver had. And Silver simply assimilating all of Chiteni's life and experiences in the same manner. It's less that Silver has 'gone away' and more that Chiteni as he was prior doesn't exist anymore. But there has been a lot of damage done to the two from the experience - and I've yet to quite go over all of it. That's for future stories!
Chiteni's transformed state in the Arcadion is Neon Cross: a similar wolf-like fighter to Silver but more bipedal. He can transform his electrope rail cannon into a cross-shaped greatsword; but much like Silver, he cannot speak. He doesn't use the regulator often, but he still has Silver's and he doesn't have the hesitation he might've had before to use it. I absolutely want to write about him and Retsarra because HOW CAN I RESIST THAT MATCHUP UGH but for now that's more or less where we're at.
There's a lot that I haven't said and a lot that I have, but this should suffice for a general rundown of my main character lol He has THE MOST written about him so this took ages for me to type out. I'll post about Sovi soon!
So recently I've been trying to get a friend to tell me more about their WoLs, but ofc they are UNBEARABLY NICE [you know who you are] and insist that I share stuff about mine too in return. So I'll start this 1 character at a time (I actually have 4 FFXIV characters!) and I'll slowly talk about them with reblogs. If I'm understanding tumblr right lol But I'll post these kinda slowly
I'll try to add pictures for them at least, so I'll hafta log in and take a few, especially for Ibahko and Ira. I don't play them often but they also have stories! But first a little info about how I see my 'WoLs:'
So I don't actually differentiate my WoLs from myself, their own story, or the MSQ. Some actions or events might seem contrary, but I don't see contradictions as like...a break in their natrative. My characters exist primarily in my mind and that means that they're a bit nebulous by nature.
Chiteni is the easiest for me to make an example of, here: let's take the DRK questline in general. He IS the WoL in his story. The one in MSQ. Those events do happen in his story - including meeting Fray and Sid and Rielle. HOWEVER in his personal canon he wasn't trained by them. He had another teacher entirely. And he met his Shadow when he was young - a little ways into his 8th summer. These two things kind've conflict because they are both his canon. The DRK questline is just as real to him as the headcanon I made. I see no reason I can't just have both just because some folks find that confusing! He isn't 'trained by a knight then by Fray later' he is trained by them separately and simultaneously. They are BOTH his first teachers. You could see them as divergent paths if that makes it easier. Or even alternate timelines. Whatever makes sense to you.
But just as I refer to him as 'me/he/we;' he has his own story, he's the character in the game's story, AND he is my avatar that I play as. These things don't exist to cancel each other out; they exist simultaneously and separately whenever I want them to.
I at least want to establish this before I start to talk about them, because I know people feel very differently about the importance of actually being the WoL vs saying like..."My character isn't actually the WoL." All 4 of my characters are, and though their personal stories may conflict with the canon plot, I just want to make it known all of it is still part of their stories. I don't feel the need to say my characters aren't the WoL because like...'how can Chiteni be trained by Fray AND the knight from his childhood if he's been a DRK since a young age?' These are stories and they're meant to bring me happiness. The cake isn't real. I can have it and eat it, too. Everyone can. Contradictions don't bother me because my mental landscape isnt made of solid ground, anyway. Why should their stories be founded upon such?
That's not to say I mean disrespect if it matters to you, ofc! My characters are me/them/us simultaneously at all times and that's just how I like it. If there's a contradiction I honestly am not bothered by it. So with that said, I'll post about them in response to this soon! I hafta think of what I want to actually SAY tho lol
But I'll be going over both headcanon and MSQ so I just want to be sure nobody is confused
no longer despair bc i can solve the first and desert phases now. can pf fucking stay the entire food duration though lets bash our heads through the adds guys??
Been spending some time by myself lately - largely off social media tho...I left tumblr alone in case I felt like writing a bit. I didn't want to take away this tiny creative outlet I left for myself, even if I already don't post everything I write.
Been spending a lot of time considering working on my voice! I don't hate my voice or anything, but I genuinely want a broader range to work with. I started yesterday watching Renee Yoxon's webinar and there was some helpful advice in there. Along with tons of videos on YT encouraging practice n such from various other coaches/trans folks. My takeaway atm? My throat is SO. DRY. Like, damn idk why trying to deepen my resonance has come at the cost of my throat feeling like a drought in California
The sun shone down on the grass as a cool breeze blew through the blades, causing them to billow and wave in patterns carved by the wind. The mountains stretched into the distance as far as the eye could see; their far-off peaks covered in a blanket of freshly fallen snow. But the sky was cloudless today, and crystal-clear water trickled softly from some source within the earth as it snaked down the hillside and into the Kha's camp.
Chiteni sat on a rock and watched the bustle in the village below him, tilting his head back for a moment and closing his eyes to feel the breeze. A karakul bumped into his knee, and he lazily peeked without moving to see the culprit. Of course it's you.
The little black karakul was pretending to ram him. The creature had been incredibly feisty since it had begun watching the others headbutting one another, and it clearly wanted someone to practice on. The wooly critter stepped backwards - slightly clumsily - and prepared to take another charge at its target. Chiteni sighed, closing his eyes again. The breeze made the beads in his hair and on his crook jingle slightly; the sound bringing to mind the beaded collars on their watchwolves. But the sun warmed his skin in the shadow of the mountains. He felt as though there was something he should be doing, but out here in the grass and the light he wasn't even sure it mattered.
Down in the Kha's camp Chiteni weaved through the bustle of people running around. They all wore loose-fitting robes adorned with beads and feathers from the Ixal they traded with, all dyed as many colors as they could get their hands on. The Kha were craftsmen and traders themselves, and they would often weave their art into their festivals - as today was. It was the last of the weeks before winter; and the karakul needed grazing, the wolves needed fattened up, and the grain needed harvesting. The tribes of Coerthas came together a few times a year to share their goods with one another in trade and compete with each other in sport, and the Kha were getting ready for the event.
Lifting up his crook, Chiteni ducked into the flap of a nearby tent. His mother greeted him as she always did, her smile warm and blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Out dozing in the fields again?” she chuckled, pulling him down closer to her small frame and kissing his cheek. “Tell me you kept the little black one out of trouble.”
“He thought I was his sparring partner,” Chiteni replied, walking over to the far wall to hang up the crook. He turned back towards her. “You don't suppose father will be back from hunting soon, do you? Eba's leg doesn't seem to be healing right, and I've had to keep more than a few wild wolves off of her.”
Surelun had wandered into the cooking area and was leafing through some of her herbs; their fragile, dried seeds and pollen gently raining down on the countertop as she pulled a few off their strings. Chiteni poked his head into the space as she kept working, never missing a beat. “Hmm. I don't have any more of her medicine…” she muttered, continuing to search. “If we can't get something at the festival we might have to take her out of the herd.” She stopped rummaging and placed a pensive hand on her chin. “Do you think you could go to the willow grove and get some bark for her? I would go myself, but I'm not as young as I used to be, and it's a steep trek.” She smiled up at him. “Plus that's what sons are for, anyway.”
“Well, so long as he brings the dogs back,” Chiteni muttered. “Can I bring Eba into the tent just to keep her safe while I'm gone? I'll make up a spot for her.”
“Of course.” His mother didn't stop hanging her herbs back up as she responded, quietly humming to herself. “I won't be able to dry the bark, so please bring back enough to tide her over until the festival, Chinua. It won't be as potent.”
Chiteni opened the tent to exit, but Surelun's voice stopped him. “I do not know why you are upset with your father, but you two had best make amends,” she said sternly. He could hear her sigh behind him. “Nobody lives forever.”
The sun was red as fire, painting the sky in soft pinks and purples as it swiftly dipped behind the mountains with its usual wintry haste. Chiteni scraped the bark off an old willow tree, being careful not to cut too deeply into it with the knife as he collected the pieces in a small pouch.
“He's never around to even be upset with,” Chiteni snorted, continuing his task.
The sound of running water splashing nearby caught his attention. As it was getting dark, more predators might be out looking for an easy meal; and the willow grove provided ample places for large beasts to hide. Chiteni stilled, swiveling his ears towards the source of the noise. All was quiet save for the burble of the stream but…he thought he could faintly hear a strange beeping noise in his ears. It didn't seem to have a definite source. He shook his head to clear it, and the sound went away.
Curious, he approached the water, careful not to have the wind at his back. Behind the curtain of willow leaves the stream trickled serenely down the slope. It reflected the first rays of moonlight falling over the valley as the sun ducked away for the night and darkness overtook the land; its currents and eddies shimmering in the pale glow. Like a river made of starlight.
There was a sharp, stabbing pain on the left side of his head and he closed his eyes tightly, covering it with his hands. It was as if - like the tree - some knife were scraping against the side of his skull. Suddenly he felt as though he were falling, plunged deep underwater. He hadn't had time to hold his breath - something heavy on his back weighing him down. It was strangely bright beneath the waves. He felt as though he were surrounded by the lights of bioluminescent creatures as he sank deeper, his limbs too heavy to claw their way to the surface. He tried to breathe but something grabbed his throat, constricting around it. He panicked, bubbles escaping his mouth.
Gasping he sat up, his hands still cupping his head as he lay in the grass by the water. The willows whispered gently in the mountain breeze. He searched himself but there was no sign of any deep water or…that he was even wet at all. His heart pounding, he remembered there might be a predator about. Shake it off, he told himself, looking around wildly. Nothing. It's not real, you're just tired.
The sound of a steady beep resumed in his ears, and he felt as though he could still see colorful lights just outside his vision.
“You seem distracted Chiteni, are you alright?” a young Xaela woman rested a hand on his arm as he tied the cords on some decorations they had made earlier that day.
“I- I'm fine,” he stammered unconvincingly, resuming his task. When did I…?
“You're a really bad liar, you know,” a Xaela man approached the two of them. He was roughly the same age, his green eyes accusatory.
“I'm…I don't know, I'm just tired. It's really nothing, Kohlen.”
Kohlen - the male au ra - crossed his arms. “Well I suppose if it was serious you'd tell us.” He gave a slight smile. “But you might tell us even if it isn't, perhaps.”
“You don't need to be so pushy,” the young woman said tersely. “We're all working hard. And with Mazalai always being out, he's doing a lot more than most of us have to.”
“Yeah that's…probably it.” Chiteni stared forward, his hands seeming to move on their own. Everything seemed so…small.
“I can do this by myself now that Kohlen is here,” the auri woman said gently.
“I suck at tying knots, Anza,” Kohlen grunted, his head turned away.
“Anza, do you know what I was doing yesterday?” Chiteni asked hesitantly.
Anza's brown eyes narrowed. “You were avoiding your father. You went out in the field again to make sure the dogs were protecting the karakul. Taking an extra long time.” She sighed heavily. “I know things have been tough. You can talk to us anytime. We aren't kids anymore but…I wish we could speak the way we used to.”
“I haven't spoken to you in years,” Chiteni murmured. Low enough that she wouldn't hear.
The camp was on fire. Tents up in smoke. Temple Knights milling about shouting orders. Chiteni stared in horror. This isn't supposed to happen!
He rushed for home, everything seeming huge around him. The tents towered high above as did the knights whose legs he darted between. The flames almost seemed to reach into the sky - blotting out the stars in the dark reddish-purple expanse. He had to get back to their tent. Before his mother-
“What are you doing here?” A commanding voice cut through the flames and smoke and screams, the scene almost seeming to become muffled, events suddenly moving in slow motion.
He stopped running and turned around. Od Mazalai stood there amongst the fire, seemingly unbothered by the scene around him.
“It's mother!” Chiteni shouted. “She's going to die! We have to help her!”
“You don't belong here. And you can't change what happens. You can only dream of what might have happened instead.”
“Father, please! We have to save her!” he pleaded. He quickly glanced over his shoulder, wondering if there was enough time left before-
“I am not my father.”
He turned. A young miqo'te stood where the man had been, his eyes sad. There was a scar on the bridge of his nose that looked fresh, and blood trickled down his face. “I never can save her. I've tried.”
“What?”
“This is my memory,” the miqo'te boy glared with frustration. “Why are you here? Who are you!?” His mismatched eyes blazed with the flickering of the fire and his clothes looked burnt. His light grayish skin was covered with soot and ash. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd inhaled smoke.
“I-...” Silver looked over himself, bewildered. He was as he ever had been: in his black oversized jacket and torn, patched-up jeans. He could feel the warmth of his regulator as the fire heated it up on the left side of his head. He brushed his fingers over its surface.
“You need to get out of here. I'll show you the way. Come!” The miqo'te boy dashed off into the flames without waiting to see if Silver would follow.
“Wait! You don't understand! I'm here to help you!” Silver dashed after him, remembering his reason for being here at last through the haze of memories and dreams not his own. Time began to move normally again; the sound of screams rending the air and the stench of burning flesh and smoke making it hard to breathe. Silver coughed, his eyes watering. “Chiteni, wait!” he cried, his voice raw. His throat burned and he doubled over, choking. Is this what it felt like?
A knight spotted him wheezing and came over, their eyes glittering with malice through their visor. They grabbed him by the neck of his jacket and Silver squirmed, desperately trying to catch his breath. He was dizzy, a dark fog seeping into the edges of his vision. Sounds seemed to move far away. “Help,” he breathed, desperate, kicking as hard as he could, tail lashing. He grabbed for the knight's helm, and tried to knock it off, but he was torn away when the knight started dragging him.
“Halone's Halls, this place is crawling with dragonspawn,” they muttered in a voice tinged with madness. They cast a piteous glance down at Silver before looking forward again. “Better a dead bastard than a wyrm's slave.”
Silver could barely keep his eyes open as the knight tightened his grip on the boy's collar. It was hard enough to breathe as it was - smoke and ash lined his lungs and he tasted blood in his mouth. He reached weakly towards his nose, feeling the scar that Chiteni had on his face in the same place. Why does this keep happening?
The knight dragged him out of the tents and fire and into the cold night. Silver hadn't noticed snow was falling steadily until this moment - his feet hardly able to find purchase as he was hauled unceremoniously before a stone outside of the commotion. The knight tossed him towards it and Silver wheezed, trying to get back up. He felt as though he were trying to breathe lightning. It burned and spiked and jabbed at his throat as he desperately attempted to take in the cold night air. He heard the sound of metal sliding against metal and glimpsed the edge of a blade reflected in the distant firelight ilms from his face.
“Wa…wait,” he held up a hand, leaning back against the stone. He had so many questions. He didn't understand what was going on. Lost in this relentless tide of memory and dream that threatened to consume who he was.
As the knight lifted the blade, Silver squeezed his eyes shut. What happens when you die in a dream?
There was a gasp and the sound of bone and muscle cracking and tearing. Of a weight falling into the snow. And then silence. Only the distant sound of the fire crackling.
“You are going to answer my questions.”
Silver looked up, the man who he thought must surely be the person he was here to find stood over the body of the knight, blood dripping from a massive greatsword in his hands. There was a strange light in his eyes and Silver leaned back, thinking of the fervent madness the knight had expressed as they had dragged him here. It was a fiery glow that came from within, even as the world blazed around them. Like burning embers.
Chiteni reached out to him, helping him stand. The wild light was gone, replaced by a sort've disconnected melancholy. “I need to dream a better dream,” he muttered, as if to himself. He turned away.
“What?”
Chiteni sat by himself on a long wooden bench, Silver standing in an aisleway adjacent to him. Startled, he patted himself down. No trace of fire or ash or smoke, no horrifying smell of burning flesh. He felt his face - no scar.
“What are you doing here?” Chiteni asked again, seeming annoyed. “Better answer quick before I think of something else, again. My attention span isn't really what it used to be,” he said the last part with a dry sense of humor, a smile almost escaping through his voice.
Silver couldn't answer the question right away. His gaze wandered the room. Multicolored light from panels of some colorful glass-like substance framed the walls just-so, their filtered brilliance strategically peppering the floor with motifs of war and beasts and holy figures. A long central aisle was flanked on either side by exquisite wood and stone benches carved with beautiful patterns of leaves and nature. Down the aisle itself was a lush blue velvet carpet and a wooden stand adorned by a massive stone statue of a woman in armor, her face covered. She held a shield and a spear, her long flowing hair cascading behind her and framing her image in a graceful way. Candles dotted the altar around her, but the room seemed otherwise unoccupied.
“Where are we?” Silver asked, awestruck. He immediately felt an overwhelming sense of sadness. As if he were here to mourn for someone.
“Not my best memory.”
Silver looked over at him. Chiteni had changed again, now adorned in heavy red and black armor.
“The ‘where.’ My memories. Now, I'd really appreciate it if you'd help me understand who you are and what you're doing here. Because it's been difficult to control where you end up. And I really am not the biggest advocate for killing people with my mind - that's what the sword is for.” He gestured to the greatsword resting on the bench beside him, looking slightly annoyed.
“I'm here to…to get you out.” Silver wasn't sure what he'd been led to expect but it wasn't this.
“Ah, you're doing a fine job,” Chiteni said dryly, frowning.
“Your friends miss you,” Silver offered.
“I'd miss them too if I were certainly capable. But I'm sure if you're here you understand how I ended up in this place?”
For a brief moment a brilliant light flashed through the glass, blinding Silver. He felt a strange sensation in his chest and he gasped, Chiteni swearing next to him.
“Hey, are you alright?” Silver focused again, the sensation gone. Chiteni stood in front of the young man as if blocking him from something. Two great black wings stretched behind him and protectively curled around the two; Chiteni's eyes focused on Silver, a hand on his shoulder. He was wearing blue leather armor trimmed in gold. He looked slightly older.
Silver nodded, exhaling. The tension left Chiteni's grip and he laughed quietly. “I really shouldn't think about that.”
“This place is made up of your memories because it…is your memories,” Silver cautiously tried to piece things together.
Chiteni nodded. “You can only live my memories as me - sorry about that, by the way. I hope you're all there, still.”
“Yeah, I- I think so.”
“Well alright then. What's your name?”
“Silver.”
“Silver. I've got some bad news. I'm…just a memory. I cannot meaningfully influence anything. I'm just…thoughts with no outlet. I can't leave. I can hardly even keep you safe here.”
“I…I can help. At least, I'm here to try.”
“The only way you can do anything is if you can find the rest of me.” Chiteni sighed. “I got myself into this mess - do not ask me to think about it - I don't know if we'll end up elsewhere again. But I'm trapped here. Wherever here is.”
Silver thought of the water he'd been plunged into. The lights. The beeping sound. “I think I know where you are. Like, physically. I have a guess, anyway.”
Chiteni shook his head. “That doesn't matter. I have no agency. I can act the way I would but it isn't the same as being alive. Memory without soul.”
“I think I can help you with that.”
Chiteni stood quietly at the entrance to Everkeep, looking up as the spire rose high into the sky. Thunderclouds loomed overhead, roiling and crackling. He held a dark wing up over Silver as rain began to slowly patter around them on the electrope walkway. He looked at the younger miqo'te, that strange light in his eyes. “While I may not do anything that I wouldn't do with a soul, I need you to understand that if you have something that belongs to me…I am going to have to ask why you think I shouldn't keep you here.” His comforting gesture seemed to turn incredibly ominous as the rain rolled off his feathers. He wasn't much taller than Silver as a whole, but the threat made Silver's hackles rise. Whatever he was dealing with was at once capricious and without Chiteni's general morality.
“I'm not happy about the situation, either,” Silver stared at him, pushing his wing away. The two stood in the rain as it hammered down around them, eyeing one another with sudden wariness. Chiteni's gaze looked hungry as he took a step forward. Silver stepped back. “We shouldn't fight. You don't know what might happen, and you don't want to ruin your chance to escape, right?”
Chiteni's shoulders sagged and he hung his head. “I don't, you're right. I'm not myself, here. Not entirely.” He stood up straighter, flicking rain from an ear. “What's your plan?”
Still wary, Silver pressed forward, “I told you, I'm here to get you out.”
“How?”
“I don't really know. I mean…I've never tried coercing a memory before.”
“Well, I can't get out without what you have. So what's the way to make it work? To get us to…commingle?” Chiteni explained, “If I have experience and skill and information you want, and you have the soul I want - how do you plan to blend those things?”
“I don't…wait.” Silver reached up to his regulator, pulling it off. “This is how I got in here.”
“You think it can get us both out?”
“With a medium…maybe? Do you have a regulator?”
Chiteni closed his eyes, clenching his fists. “Please say something else. Quickly.”
Silver felt that spike of pain on the side of his head again, as if a knife were scraping the inside of his skull. That strange tugging sensation began to pull on his chest as well, the pain bringing him to his knees. He could barely see Chiteni standing nearby, breathing heavily.
“What- what is this? Why does this keep happening!?” Silver shouted over the rain. An incredibly loud, high-pitched whining sound droned in his ears. He felt like a hand was reaching into his chest, trying to rip something out.
Silver gasped, suddenly alone and dry. Wherever he was it was too dark to see clearly. He felt a stone floor underneath his feet, and the space was enormous but temperate. The air still. Out of the darkness a pair of red eyes stared back at him, almost as if they were sizing him up. They moved with unnatural silence and swiftness all around him; whatever being they were tied to seeming almost weightless as it surveyed him. The air remained undisturbed.
He slowly reached for his regulator, unsure if it would work here. But whatever this thing was, he could sense no danger from it. He couldn't sense anything was even there.
Chiteni was nowhere to be seen, and a voice trickled into Silver's mind. It dripped with an oily malevolence, seeping into his thoughts like sweet honey.
I can get you out. Both of you.
“Where is Chiteni?” Silver stepped back, hand still by the side of his head. “You have to be one of his memories - so where is he?”
Here.
“You aren't even answering my questions.”
I am here.
“That's…that really doesn't help. I can tell you aren't him. Why lie?”
You wish to remain as yourself. I can help you.
Silver bit his lip, looking at the ground briefly. He clenched his fists, then relaxed. “I've…already made peace with that.”
Have you, now?
“What could you possibly want in return for all these promises? You aren't just asking out of the goodness of your heart. You won't even be honest with me,” Silver shot back. His voice wavered, but only slightly. The entity narrowed its eyes in the dark.
I want to come with you. That is all.
Silver thought quietly for a moment. A shred of hope began to burn in his chest like the embers of a cold fire stirred by metal. He looked at the strange shadow, thinking. Its red eyes glittered.
“Come with me?”
The eyes closed but he could tell it was nodding.
“Are you trapped here, too?”
For so long.
“I don't even know how to get us out.”
Suddenly Silver felt its presence for the first time. It was like that of a night breeze in summer, whispering through the trees. He could feel rather than see as it gestured to his regulator.
Just use this delightful trinket.
Silver hesitated. The chance to be free - to escape his fate - it was so tantalizing it hurt. He thought about Chiteni and his friends; about how everything that had happened was his fault. That he knew that going into it. That Chiteni had wasted his freedom making the decisions that led him here. That maybe…he didn't deserve any of it.
The red-eyed thing smiled.
Author's Note: Omg this one is SUPER LONG but it was so fun to write! It's a bit above my skill level to convey the...strangeness of a dream. But I really wanted to try! I had this idea and it was so cool...Maybe I'll get to rewrite this sometime with the experience I gather later on - get the weirdness across even better!
I wanted to sort've convey an...uneasiness at the start. And I figured having his mother in the story would be like alarm bells for anyone who knows anything about her. This place is memory, yes but we also fabricate things in our memories all the time. Especially surrounding things that left a great impact upon us. So we 'dream a better dream' as it were. And our dreams are memories, too. This...'memory' version of Chiteni is missing something vital to himself, and he acts a bit uncharacteristically. He's quick to switch from one emotion to the next - as if sort've pantomiming them but not really FEELING them. Kind've like a sociopath lol But I really hope you enjoyed the strangeness as much as I have!
