Though my soul may set in darkness;I will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly; To be fearful of the night.
Screenshot/RP blog for my WoL and Azem from FFXIV. Spoilers abound.
Something within them gives way when it is no longer stone beneath their boots.
The mosses are soft and release the smell of the earth into the air, the trees whisper in the breeze and scatter the sunlight across the detritus in a shower of sunspots that the butterflies chase in staccato arcs. Euryphaessa lets their fingers idly trace the bark of a nearby tree and feel it shift something fundamental, something with no shape or name they can give it. Without words this place welcomes, beckons and they cannot but heed its call.
They dip between the fallen roots, weave between stray branches and fallen trunks. There is no trail or path to be seen and yet their robs never snag, their hair, a frazzled heap down their back, never catches. Their bangs are every bit as messy and obscure their keen gaze yet their feet never once fail to know where they needs fall. They hum softly to themselves and the woods sing back.
It is not so far from Amaurot, this place, yet this is a world al its own. It is deep and ancient in ways even they with their nigh on endless years could but hope to dream of. A place steeped in old magicks and heavy secrets. Eury has no interest in uncovering these things today, they are here simply because this place feels right to them.
It has only been a small handful of months since graduation, yet where the others all dove into their passions, Eury still found themselves wandering. They had not excelled in any particular area outside of combat; they did not have a mind for expertise in the life of the waters or the keen eyes and mind that could spot faults in creations and aberrations in aether. Eury had walked every street in the city in search of their calling, and yet somehow always ended back out here.
There was sense in the life here, reason in the mesh that nature folded together in a weave so complex that even Amaurot's brightest could never have conceived. The star itself remained the greatest creator. Power shimmers beneath their soil; it ripples with each step they take. This far in the sun no longer finds breadth between the leaves and the shadows swell up around them.
Eury breathes in time with their flow, lets a finger trace idly as they walk, sending more ripples across it as though it a stilled lake. Something withing nibbles at their fringes and they do not shy away. There is no fear in this place, only curiosity, as if somehow they know Eury is as much a part of it as the mushrooms and the crickets. The darkness has never scared them, it has always felt a part of them. Here, that is only amplified.
They knew if they wished they could command these shadows, but they are not so arrogant as to demand they move for no reason. Instead they twirl at the wrist, brush about it and watch it move as a fog. It shifts back in its own observations and Eury finds no reason to hide from it.
Whether it found approval or no, Eury receives no sign, but they continue their wandering. They know there are no answers here amidst the shadows and the trees, but they will search all the same. Perhaps their own small defiance, however little an afternoon absconded from the city may be, in the face of a word they simply did not know how to navigate well. This world of endless and unknown, of secrets and magics and boundless possibilities…
It's the second time in as many days that someone has come up on him while the bar was supposed to be closed and Eheeya makes a mental note to have a little chat with the proprietor. It was normally cool for him crash here after the parties if he wasn't feeling up for the trek back to his digs, but they just kept letting people in after closing.
"Well well if it isn't the rising star." He recognizes her several minutes before any semblance of a name comes to mind. He and Sugar had gone to scope her out before the start of the Cruiserweight matches, but they hadn't exactly done much in the way of personal introductions. It was one thing to keep track of her on his dance floor, he knew everything that went on there. In the early morning hours from the sofa he'd passed out on, she'd given him one helluva scare. She was as slick and sneaky as the rumours said.
"What brings you all the way out here?" He slides his smoothest grin in place; it was a point of pride he could do so with his stomach in knots.
"You, of course," she answers. Her voice is so quiet he'd not even hear her if this place was open.
"Hey, you're not upset about our little match, are ya? I promise I'm keeping my word and retiring just like I said I would. It's just… still gotta keep things rolling for the fans, you know? Even if I'm not in the ring, they love these parties. I hate to take that away from 'em too."
"Even though you're tired?" The question is gentle and damn if that doesn't make it hurt all the more.
"Even so. You gotta know that too. No way a champion like you is resting on your laurels."
"Just so, though I've a bit of a break before I needs confront Howling Blade."
"Well, if you're lookin' to unwind, I know just the thing." He gestures in the air and it sends the room spinning so suddenly he needs grab the couch not to topple off it. Her arm is there to catch him, and he resteadies himself on the couch.
"Perhaps not just quite yet. I think you may have unwound a bit too much. You ought to re-spool that thread before you try again." She stands herself up and walks over towards the bar.
"Don't be ridiculous, there's never too much in party."
"You and I both know that you do not think that." She sets a glass of water down on the table before him.
Eheeya lets out a single laugh.
"Is something the matter? You needs drink some water to help that hangover."
"Nah, that's not it." He shakes his head and reaches for the glass. "This is just the second time someone's told me that. Recently even."
"Then it must be true." Her eye seems to gleam knowingly. Did she… know them?
"Wait… come to think of it, how did you find me here?"
"A little birdie thought you could use a hand."
She places her own not to far from him and aether blooms around it. It washes over him like a warm shower and almost instantly his head feels clearer. It still wants to rattle a rhythm to compete with his pulse, but the fog and the nausea have nearly vanished.
"How…?" A feral soul might give him the constitution to drink anyone under the table, but even it couldn't do anything about the hangover.
"Alcohol is a toxin," she explains. "And, if one has enough training in healing magics it is not terribly hard to purge poisons from the body. I can't heal all its effects, but that should help, at least a little."
"Why go out of your way for me?" It's a genuine question, and he forgets to strip the confusion from his voice.
"Partially because a dear friend of mine asked, but also because I simply enjoy helping others. Even if it is sometimes to my detriment, or if it sometimes gets me caught up in grand tournaments. I forced you into retirement, it seems the least I could do."
"You didn't force me, you saved my life most likely. I don't like the sound of that psychonecrosis one bit. To me, it was just another dance floor and that stage was dazzling. But its not the only one, and maybe its time I tried looking for a better place to show off some moves."
"That I am glad to hear. Perhaps one that will be kinder to you in the morning, as well?"
That one does make him laugh.
"If you say so, little lady." He cracks open an eye at her.
"Say, I don't think I rightly got your name. Can't be calling you by your fighter name all the time."
"Ciardha," she offers.
"Eheeya, but Green is fine too, all the others use it." He finishes his glass and Eheeya needs to turn to make sure they don't see Eury in the corner by the bar. Man this feels like one hell of a dream. If it wasn't for that healing spell he'd be sure he was about to wake up. "Thanks… Ci— ciierrr— Say uh, you mind Cici?"
She blinks in surprised at that.
"That's quite fine."
"Groovy." He lets out a long breath, and his mind idly toys with ideas of how to go about thanking her for all this. Even if it was because Eury asked her to— between the two of them he had a lot of making up to do.
After the thrumming buzz of electrope and the flashing of Solution Nine's neon lights, Ciardha is glad to find herself amidst the trees. The lower forests of Yak'tel do not have elementals to whisper, but the trees breathe their own rhythm and she fills her lungs with the earthy tones of the underbrush and the delicate traces of the luminescent blossoms. The kindly people of Mamook had offered to give her a ride to the far edge of the woods, but she assured them that she would like the walk, and none saw reason to question her safety amidst the deeper wood's inhabitants.
Ciardha has never cared for the limelight, has never desired to be the centre of attention. She prefers the quiet of the edge of room, the shadows in its corners where it is easier to see all that transpires. She has sought out this solitude because it is easier; a balm upon a heart that aches when she thinks overlong upon the growing distance between those she holds close. Erenville has sailed off on his journey, Alphinaud and Alisaie have returned to their own calling, and every room feels a little bit emptier than before.
Here the trees fill the space, the cries of this creature and that sing in the air. It feels as lively as it does vast and it is enough to drown her thoughts once again.
Her steps do not take long to veer from the path, to begin winding around this tree and that. At times she comes upon worn old ruins that she needs carefully pick her way over, others she must take a longer loop to avoid disturbing the wildlife. Ciardha lets these tasks consume her thoughts, spares no attention for anything other than the immediate path in front of her. So long as she does, the ache fades at the very back of her mind.
Ciardha pauses when she reaches one of the Cenote;the glow from the trees refracts off the water and scatters stars around her feet. She walks through these heavens, the water rippling out from her epicentre and recasting each shape. A fallen log sits in the shallows, and Ciardha pulls herself up on it and lets herself grow lost in the sight.
Her fingers wrap around the shaft of her staff, its wood cool against her fingers and grounding in this winding place. She so rarely wields it alone, finds more purpose in blades and calling her healing magics through weapons not meant for such purpose. Today it felt wrong to carry anything else, as if her very soul simply wished to return to its roots, craved the memories of a time she had only just picked it up. Things felt far less complicated, then. She'd closed off her heart, dedicated herself to duty alone. It is harder, this. It hurts more.
You wouldn't want to go back.
It is a stray thought, but it does not ring in her mind with her own tones.
"I couldn't, even if I wished it."
But you don't wish it.
"No."
So then what are you doing out here by yourself?
"I am always alone of late, at least here it feels by choice."
Her whisper is quickly lost to the keening of insects about the small lake. She leans against her staff, and she can feel the pulse of life within it against her scalp; it pulses in an eerie echo of her own heartbeat.
You're narrowing your horizon. You're not letting yourself see all the options.
"Perhaps… but I would not be a burden to others. Knowing that there are those after the key, they'll just get caught up in more of my trouble. Better that they escape to their own paths now, lest I ruin it for them."
A single wry note of laughter curdles at the back of her thoughts.
I'm starting to get why I was so frustrating.
"A trait we both share, it seems." Ciardha lets the breath pass from her lips, and it tosses the leaves from her staff in its own little wind.
So it seems. You do know that you're not really alone, right?
"I do." Yet the words do not feel certain upon her tongue. Logic tells her that when trouble next comes no doubt there will be others are her side. Her heart wonders why in the quiet moments between they all seem to vanish just as quickly.
"If nothing else, I have my ghosts."
"Isn't that right... Eury?"
The question is honed sharp with grief and speared by desperation; Wuk Lamat lashes with it when Ciardha tries again to pull her away from the corpse. It is someone she does not know; Ciardha isn't certain Wuk Lamat knows her so well either, yet she cradles the limp woman in her arms as though it her own mother.
The pall of death has taken the once lively city. Its once bright stone streets are scorched and bloodied and even next to the ocean all Ciardha can smell is the smoke from the fires. The air is too silent in the wake of gunshots, even the waves fear coming to shore around her ankles. The mechanical soldiers have withdrawn, their remnants deposed by the landsguard, and all that is left in their wake are the mourning and the dead.
"Well?" Wuk Lamat snaps again. "Here to say you told me so? That I couldn't protect this city and you were right?!" Her voice cracks and a sob punctuates her breath. Wuk Lamat is still shaking the woman in her lap in hopes that she will wake despite the hole in her chest.
"Of course not." It takes effort to keep her own voice even, but if Ciardha has learned a single skill in her years it is how to swallow her own emotion. "Never would I wish harm on you, on this city or these people."
"You said I couldn't do it!"
"Because no one can."
Wuk Lamat wanted to build a nation free of suffering, and Ciardha could not bear to watch her shatter under the weight of something impossible. That dream was as dead as the body in her arms.
"Because I'm too weak!"
"That is not true!"
"Then what?" Wuk Lamat's truculence is Ciardha's only comfort; she is too fragile and cracking further with each moment. This defiance is the only thing holding her together.
"I said that you could not create a nation without suffering. Not because you are too weak to accomplish it, but because suffering is not something any can control much less prevent. You cannot foresee every possibility, account for every outcome and to hold yourself to such will destroy you."
Ciardha knows this better than most, she has been riddled with cracks and fit to burst, she has shattered entirely and glued the shards of herself back together in shapes she does not quite recognize anymore.
"So you're saying its all pointless? That lives like these are meaningless? I wont' accept that! I can't!"
"That isn't what I am saying, not at all." Ciardha steps through the lap of waves and crouches down before the pair surrounded by icy waters. Her hand reaches up and gently closes the woman's lids. "Such cruelties are wrong, and they shouldn't happen, even though at times they will all the same. What matters now is not that it did happen."
She looks Wuk Lamat straight in the eye.
"What matters is what you will do about it now that is has. What will you do now, Wuk Lamat?"
Wuk Lamat's shoulders slump, and the tears that she has been fighting flow freely down her cheeks. Ciardha does not press her for the answer, she breathes in the silence and the weight of her mourning and lets the moment expand as it must. Too much has been lost this day for so bright a heart not to shed tears for it.
It is several long moments before the body is laid gently down in the sand, before Wuk Lamat brushes at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand and she draws a shaky breath.
"I thought I told you to call me Lamaty'i."
"I did not think I still had that right," Ciardha answers quietly. They did not part with kind words, and Ciardha does not blame her for it. "I was under the impression you did not wish to see me again."
"So why did you come back?"
"It is as I said, I would not abandon this city or these people. Not while there was something I might do to help. I cannot carve suffering from his world, but with more shoulders does its weight become more bearable."
"That's what you were trying to tell me, before."
Ciardha nods once.
"I'm sorry. I was so angry, I didn't listen."
"I did not explain myself well; I've never been particularly good at it." Ciardha shakes her head. "I knew some people once, who wished to create a world free of suffering more than anything. It destroyed them and in the end they wound up hurting more people than they helped. I did not wish to see the same thing befall you. To wish your people well does you good, it is why they follow you so readily, but you must not blind to the challenges and be ready to face them alongside those very people when it demands it of you."
"You're going to start sounding like the Head of Reason soon." Wuk Lamat sniffles. "Right!" She stands with more vigour than she feels, even Ciardha can tell as much. "There are a lot of people that still need help, and… I need to find her family."
"I'll take care of that."
"No— let me," Wuk Lamat insists. "I was with her when it happened, so I should be the one to tell them. If you could go see who else needs help…"
A familiar face shouldn't feel like ripping open a wound.
Shaaloni's dry heat sticks at the back of Ciardha's throat with the same grit as the gravel beneath her boots. She already walks with some trepidation, Wuk Lamat's anger and dismissal have placed a damper upon her for Erenville's homecoming journey. She knows he is too astute not to have noticed, but Erenville is kind enough to say nothing on the matter. He guides her with the same earnestness that saw them through the rite of succession and by the time they have reached Hhusatahwi, Ciardha has managed to find her stride.
Dust hangs in the air of this place, but it does not feel stale. The wind blows through and brings an ever changing flow of people. Commotion in the streets is just as quickly swept away by its flow, and Ciardha is quick to discover she and Erenville are not the first travellers to be blown in.
There was a time Estinien's voice would not have surprised her, when it was so ingrained in her surroundings it was as expected to her ears as her own. The rough edge of his tones are born of the neck wounds that never fully healed in Nidhogg's wake and it make her eyes go briefly wide. It has not been so long, but already has she forgotten the texture of it, the nuances that her memories sanded smooth.
"Estinien. We did not expect to see you here." Erenville is the one to speak first.
Estinien stands in the shade of the town's small tavern, the lingering scent of ale and local spices still cling to him. Ciardha studies his face, his expression. She cannot say what it is she seeks there; the crease of worry in his brow, the lines at the edge of his lips when he is troubled, the distant ache of loneliness behind blue eyes. She finds none of these.
He looks happy. His entire posture is at ease, his face and voice are bright as he gives an answer to Erenville that Ciardha only barely registers. There is relief in this, that he is well. Barring the brief crossing of their paths in Tulioyollal at the palace, she has not seen him in months. Not since he departed Radz-at Han and never looked back.
Hope kindles into eagerness; it has been so long since they have spoken at any length. A moment such as this one, with no pressing concerns demanding of them, perhaps she can hear of his adventures. They can sit at the tavern and share a dish and speak of all they've experienced. She is so eager to know what has left him with such an easy smile upon his lips.
"Well then— I'll be seeing you."
Estinien's words halt the suggestion upon her lips; the words clot in her throat and choke the air from her. She wants to tell him to wait— does he not want to speak? To spend some time before their journeys diverge once more? They've barely exchanged pleasantries, much less said anything of meaning. Estinien's shadow casts over her as he walks by; she catches his eye and there is no malice there.
But neither is there regret.
Ciardha only barely stammers a farewell through the shock of it, and the world silences in his sudden absence. The rustle of the town becomes a dull and distant thing and her own thoughts become fuzzy and disjointed. The harshness of it settles over her, and Ciardha thinks briefly it would have been easier to manage if he'd simply hit her instead. At least that was easier to decipher, and would not scorch her chest so.
"Is everything aright?" Erenville's worried tones work through the harried fog of her mind and she swallows the lump still fermenting in her throat. It sits in her gut like bile, and any lingering thoughts of eating at the tavern are immediately dismissed.
"Yes, of course." Ciardha finds her misplaced smile and brushes some dust from her skirt. It is not truly clinging so badly, but the motion helps her centre herself. She is here for Erenville, to see these new places as he guides her to his own homeland.
"You're certain? I confess, I did not think he would depart so quickly."
"He has his own path he is following." Ciardha shakes her head. "He seemed happy, happier than I can recall him looking in a very long time. That is all I can ask."
That was right… as long as he was happy, that is all that mattered. That is all she ever wanted for him. Perhaps it is she that is the selfish one, to think that happiness involved her in some way.
"Forgive me but… I was under the impression you two were closer than that."
So did she.
"Our paths will cross again." It is the only answer that Ciardha can give. It is neither the first nor the last time she will smile through a bleeding heart.
What happened when they did… that she could not say.
Perhaps next time it was she that would be the one to say farewell.
The voice jars Ciardha to attention, its hoarse notes loud in the silence of the chambers. She had not fallen asleep, not truly, but her focus had dulled and perception fuzzed at the edges until even her spinning thoughts had briefly gone silent. The sudden presence of sound jars her as surely as a bucket of cold water.
"More recently than my lord, I should imagine." He does not laugh at this, but the short breath he takes tells her he has considered it.
"Yes, well one of us isn't on their deathbed."
Ciardha flinches at how easily he says it. It is no secret that Emperor Solus's days are numbered. The factions within the capital are already moving as if his last breath has been taken; most siding behind Varis or Nerva. If none are named successor, it will undoubtedly come to war. She cares not for any of it, does not care who will rule in her lord's stead. Her duty and her loyalty are to him alone.
"Oh, don't give me that." Lord Solus frees a hand from his covers and waves his hand dismissively as though it might sweep away her worry. It doesn't; and the weakness in the familiar gesture only further tightens the vice in her chest. "You're hardly unused to death."
He is not wrong, of course. He has asked it much of her, and she has claimed a great number of lives in her time in Garlemald. The Emperor had no shortage of enemies. But their ends were a swift thing, a brief clash of weapons that ended with their blood at Ciardha's feet. This… Lord Solus' end has been a slow crawl of weakness, a decay that claims a little more of him each day. It has been weeks since he had the strength to rise from his bed and even Garlemald's best physicians say there is no more to be done. Time is an enemy none can conquer, not even he.
"It is as you say, my lord." Her own voice feels too loud in the space. Lord Solus lets out the same familiar sigh he ever gives at her obedience, as if it frustrates him somehow.
"Go get some sleep. I'm not dying just yet."
"I would prefer to remain all the same."
How strange the fates are, to echo this standoff between them from their earliest days amidst their last.
"Stay any longer and I'm going to put you to work."
"That is not much encouragement to leave, my lord."
A bemused huff.
"Have you been paying attention these past few weeks?"
The question rattle out of his lungs with the cough that has made itself at home in his chest. Of course, she has. In the quiet moments with no other about, Lord Solus has taken to telling her stories. He always called them the olden days, but then would spin tales of golden cities and spiralling buildings, of peoples with great magics of creation who lived lives of peace an prosperity. Ciardha drank in each word, enraptured by this place he envisioned. He spoke of it so warmly, so earnestly that the images of it were vivid and clear in her mind as if she had walked these streets herself.
"To every word, my lord."
"Good." He rustles under the heaping mound of blankets. "Then tonight, I want you to tell me a story."
"I am afraid I have few tales that would be of interest to you, Lord Solus."
"I don't care what it is; make it up if you have to." Another cough rattles its way out. "Just… tell me your story of the olden days."
He would have her create a similar tale? Ciardha's mind spins at the possibilities all so numerous that they swarm her mind at once. She knows the city of Amaurot, and she recalls the many figures in the tales that Lord Solus has spun. The playful Hythlodaeus, chief of the bureau of the architect, the wise leaders amidst the convocation, the enigmatic Azem that ever appeared bringing trouble and aid in equal measures, and the pragmatic Emet-Selch who tried to echo reason and yet got swept up in trouble he claimed to loathe but so clearly loved…
"Very well." Ciardha nods softly.
Their stage was Amaurot and the possibilities should be overwhelming, should be impossible to know where to begin. She has not slept properly in days and yet on this matter alone her thoughts are sharp and clear and come so easily.
The words spill from her lips before she's even properly considered them. Azem is the easiest of the figures for her to consider and she weaves a tale of their return to Amaurot. She can see the images in her mind so clearly it is as though she had lived them herself. The trees lining the roads had only just begun to bloom, painting splashes of violet against the pale golden sunrise. Their scent is subtle but pleasant and her steps carry her home. Ciardha feels the cool morning air against her skin, hears so distinctly each voice that speaks with them along the way.
She never has to consider the details as the story comes together, everything falls into place as logically as fact, from the village Azem had visited to the creatures they had slain and the items they brought back to Hythlodaeus's delight. The manner Emet-Selch chided them for their recklessness reminded her fondly of Lord Solus and perhaps she has lifted too much inspiration from him in doing so. Yet Ciardha never questions any of it even as the last moment fades away.
Silence fills the wake of her voice, her own throat nearly hoarse for how long she'd been talking. Beyond the window Ciardha can see the first hints of dawn upon the horizon; it had been over an hour at least that she'd been lost in her tale. Never has she told a story that she has felt so vividly before, and for all that it has felt right in her heart, each beat of silence begins to fill her with uncertainty.
"Why did you pick that one?" Lord Solus finally speaks after several long moments.
"I cannot say… it simply came to mind, that is all." Ciardha shakes her head. "Did it displease?"
She would needs consider it better; she cannot abide disappointing him.
"No." Lord Solus's voice is muted; there is more he wishes to say but he will no say it. "You did well. I enjoyed your tale, even if it was a bit over-sympathetic to Azem's antics." Something about this amuses him, and it warms her in a way she cannot wholly explain.
She is drawn to Azem the most, in these tales; something about them calls to her. She loved the stories Lord Solus told about them the most. Perhaps it is little surprise then that her story catered to them so.
"I will consider this."
"After you've slept." Lord Solus chides. "An order, this time."
Ciardha lets out a sigh, but she will not disobey.
"As my lord wishes."
"Go sleep, and then tonight I will have you tell me another. I expect it to be better than the last."
Something about this notion sparks inside of her. She wants to explore it more, this world Lord Solus has crafted; to be given further leave to do so is a comfort Ciardha did not realize she so desperately needed.
Not only to tell another story, but knowing that Lord Solus would still be here to hear it.
No voice comes from the bushes behind them, but Eury has been a hunter long enough to hear the telltale signs of motion that's stopped and the rustle that comes with the way she flinches at being caught. An admirable silence ensues, enough that someone with less practice would dismiss what they heard as a trick of their mind, but Eury has had far too much experience to second guess themselves here.
It's been nearly an entire day that they've listened to the sounds of someone trailing them, and it isn't hard to guess who. Eury had left camp before first light and without a word to anyone. After the weeklong debaccle that reporting a miscreant hunter involved and making sure his injured palico was well on the mend, Eury was itching to get back into the wilderness where the most complicated thing they needed to navigate was a Seregios trying to make a nest out of a doshaguma herd's stomping ground.
"You shouldn't be all the way out here, you know." They continue, turning towards the tree that she hid behind. To her credit they didn't see a trace of her remarkably white fur despite how it should stand out in a place like this, and her pace was careful enough she hadn't disturbed a single thing on the trail she'd walked behind them. "You're still hurt, you should go back to the camp and rest. No one is going to treat you badly there. I know that team, they're good people."
When Eury makes no motion to move, she surrenders her presence and steps out from her hiding place. There are still more bandages than fur visible on the young palico before them, but she's come a long way from the day they rescued her all the same. Her fur was clean and her expresison clear, even as she hangs her head with all the energy of a child being scolded.
"It is not that they are not good to me," she shakes her head. "They have been nothing but kind, and I would gladly stay but for one thing."
"And what is that?"
"You left." Ciardha says it easily, as if it is entirely logical when to Eury it is anything but.
"Well, yeah. There's not much more I can do for you now that the guild has everything sorted. If you really are up to keep hunting, they'll get you a new partner, a proper one this time. It's time I got back on my own hunts. I still have a bill for that Mitsuzune to look after."
"Let me help you!" Eury expects her to flinch when they bring up the monster that nearly swallowed her in one gulp, but it fires her up instead. They knew she had to be made of stern stuff to pull through the way she had, but colour them surprised all the same. "I won't get in the way! I can support you in whatever way you need me to."
"You looking for revenge on that thing?" Eury raises a brow.
"No." She shakes her head avidly. "I… You saved my life, it is the least I can do to repay you for it."
She has a good heart; how someone like her ended up with a trash heap like that Sadayo is beyond them.
"Look." Eury kneels down so that they can be at eye level with the felyne, places a hand softly over her head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I didn't save you expecting any kind of payment. You were in trouble, it was the right thing to do. So you go on ahead and forge your path and don't worry about me."
"This is what I want." Her voice is quiet, but there is that steel again that they keep seeing when the careful poise is brushed aside. "I want to help you. I want to be your palico, if you would allow it."
No matter how she led into it, hearing the words still takes Eury by surprise. They've always been a lone wolf, and while no one was ever mean about it, they were still an oddity most avoided where they could. They've never had anyone say they wanted to work with them so bluntly before.
"I'm not like most hunters," Eury shakes their head.
"I remember! You always work alone, you told me before. I'll adapt; I'm a very quick learner."
"It's not your skill I'm questionning, Ciardha, its your safety. Hunting alone like this isn't easy, and what I pulled you out of yesterday is childs play compared to some of the stuff I get into. I can't promise that I'll be able to protect you out there."
"I know that, I do. I did not pursue this because I sought safety."
"What are you seeking, then?"
"Purpose," she answers firmly. "I have always dreamed of aiding others, of supporting a hunter that does so in turn."
"So then, why me?" Eury asks. "There are hundred of good hunters out there."
"I've seen what you do for others and I want to help you do it. However I can, in whatever small way. You wnet out of your way to save me, to make everything right in the wake of it. That is the kind of person I've always wanted as a partner, and I'll do whatever it takes to be the best possible one I can be. I don't care if you choose to work alone, if my life would be on the line every second of every day— if I can help you even once in the way you did me these past days then I would be satisfied."
Eury lets out a slow breath. What could they possibly say to something like that? They're no hero, nothing of the sort; if anything they're probably about as dangerous as the monsters they hunt. The kind of person that Ciardha sees when she looks at them… they're nothing like that at all.
"I don't think I'm the kind of person you think I am. I got lucky, saving you, and if you stay with me too long you're going to find out there is a reason I work alone. People around me tend to get hurt, badly."
"I'm not afraid of danger, and I'm not afraid of you. I'm certain I can be of help, and perhaps together things will be a little less dangerous, and even if they are not, two sets of hands are better than one when things get rough, are they not?"
"You really are persistent, aren't you?" Eury raises a brow.
Ciardha lowers her head sheepishly.
"Fine."
"Do you mean?" She looks afraid to get hopeful.
"I want you to make sure you get yourself out of danger first; and whenever you want out, you just say the word."
"I will never wish it, I'm certain."
Eury just laughs at that. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"
"I will not."
Eury isn't so sure, but they suppose only time will tell.
"Alright then… I'm pretty sure there was a stray Congalala not to far from here."
"But.. were you not hunting the Mitsuzune?"
"I am, but if we're really going to do this, then we need to get you some proper gear made too. I'm guessing your last partner wasn't too quick to spare you the ressources."
"You… would have some made for me?" Her eyes go wider than if they'd dangeld a feather in front of her nose.
"Of course. You need to be equipped too, partner."
"Partner…" She rubs her eyes with the back of her arm.
Footsteps countdown the final moments, echoing each second in the vastness of the Lindblum theatre. The Lindwurm rumbles a low growl that escapes with each breath, its silver scales shimmering red from the curtains and gleaming the light cast by the cameras. Metem swings the second camera around, casting a shot of the serpent's voracious maw before capturing the Champion striding towards it, impossibly small in the vastness of its shadow.
This arena is flawless, like each and every one that the president had crafted for its fighters. Metem's own box was always in just the right place; tucked safely away from any danger while offering everything he needed for his commentary. No matter the fighter, no matter the configuration of electrope to bring out their greatest strengths, he always had the best seat in the house.
This time… he does not want it.
It has been years in the making, this little plan of the president's. The stage has been perfectly set; the Champion has risen above even the Tyrant's raw power, and they have set foot into the arena to see a great evil banished for good. For the first time since they began there is a glimmer of hope. Metem has heard it in the president's voice these past months, has seen it grow as the Champion conquered fighter after fighter. Finally the time has come.
To face someone capable of defeating the Lindwurm.
Capable of ripping the president's heart from his chest.
Though the president desires her victory, it is far from assured. Only the Champion's utmost power stands a chance of overcoming the Lindwurm's regeneration and to draw it from her he will push her to the very brink. The lindwurm's drive for survival will surge amidst the battle and there is no question this match will be to the death.
Only one of the combatants will walk away from this stage and there is no outcome today that Metem considers a victory. He has promised to see everything through to the end, to hold up the curtain until the final breath falls, yet how can he watch on while the President gives his life away? The only person he has known since his earliest days in Solution Nine.
He has had front row seats to it all; the earliest successes they celebrated together, the horror when the realities of the psychonecrosis came to light. Metem shared the president's desperation to find a solution, watched in distress as the only answer twisted his closest friend into the dreadful beast now confined to this arena. Metem stood by his side as he entombed fighter after fighter until they could be saved, aided however possible, as he plotted his own downfall with a flourish only he was capable of. The greatest show the Arcadion would ever see.
And its greatest sacrifice.
The final step reverberates across the theatre.
The Champion stares unwavering at her opponent. The lindwurm coils and growls a deep sound that floods the space. Its shifting scales crackle against the cameras; her blade unsheathes and stirs the electrope to life.
The entire Arcadion— the whole of Solution Nine— holds its breath.
Never had a choice.
Metem presses his hand against his desk until the strain makes it numb.
Calm them nerves got the whole world watching.
This is it. The moment has come.
He draws in a breath that rattles its way down and swallows the lump at the back of his throat.
Ready set go and there ain't no stopping.
Only one option.
You always had a choice, Mr. President.
You chose your children.
The Lindwurm roars the opening to the last fight of feral souls the Arcadion will ever see.
Light it up.
Metem presses the button upon his microphone. For this final battle, he will give his best performance yet. It is the least he can do for the one prepared to give everything.
A single tear hits the desk.
"The president must pay for his crimes!"
"Give him what for Champion!"
The only thing louder than the pounding of the rain is the snap of thunder. It's close enough to rattle through their bones and shake trees with roots too deep to so much as sigh at a storm this intense. Most hunters would turn back in these kinds of conditions; visibility is terrible, you can't hear a piragill scream from a foot behind you and if that isn't enough the surging waters in these swamps make every step a hair's breadth away from a one way ticket down the gushing rapids to the basin below. Anyone out hunting in this was either stupid, desperate or reckless, and Euryphaessa imagines they're something of all three.
It's easier to be reckless when you run alone, and Eury already has the reputation for it. One of few hunters that never works in a squadron, and nearly unique in their refusal to accept a palico to assist them. It isn't that Eury had anything against the felynes. They're fond of them; maybe too much so. The thought of putting them in danger just doesn't sit right with Eury. They know they are reckless, they know they are the kind to look this weather in the eye and think that if they can't see, neither can their mark. They won't ask someone else to risk their neck over it.
A crash in the brush stands out against the beat of the thunder and Eury slows their already careful steps. They finger the first of their blades and slide it soundlessly from its holster, place one step then another on the only solid patch of ground above the rising water line and peer around the trees.
They might as well have crashed through the brush.
The Mizutsune is in a frenzy, oblivious to anything other than the scrambling shape darting from its snapping jaws. This rain already has it amped up, and this particular beast has been reported multiple times for unusual aggression in a territory it doesn't normally dwell in. The guild ordered it taken in for study and put a pretty penny on its head to boot. With prey in sight this leviathan is a blur of sharp claws and gnashing teeth.
Eury weighs their options; attacking it now is a terrible idea. The adrenaline of the hunt will make it faster, and the threat to its meal, more dangerous. Better to let it catch whatever unfortunate monster caught its eye and then attack while it is busy feeding. They reach for their second blade and watch, search for any weaknesses, any lingering injuries from an old turf war they can use against it, confident in their plan.
Until the thing that it is chasing screams.
It isn't hunting a monster at all! Eury leaps forward into a surging wave of water kicked up by the Mizutsune's tail. Their first sword finds its flank and the second wedges into the tender nook between gut and hind leg and the leviathian shrills and snaps backwards. Eury narrowly swings beneath it. They hold their breath as they submerge briefly, reaching out to wrap a hand around whatever this thing is trying to eat and come up with a fistful of wet fur and a sopping coughing mess.
"What the hell are you doing?!" A voice only barely rises above the pounding of the rain. Eury has no time to question who before the Mizutsune lashes back around and swipes at them with its claws. The water makes it hard to leap backwards out of range and Eury bites down hard when it catches their forearm.
"How dare you!" The voice calls again, indignant from somewhere to their left. A shock pod hits the Mizutsune, the numbing tendrils swarm the beast but jump just as readily to Eury who pushes further back with the ammo's numbing nipping quite literally at their ankles.
"This is my hunt!"
Another hunter? Not impossible; but when two hunters end up on the same hunt it's an unspoken rule of the guild to cooperate. After all, it's subduing the monster that matters; hunters aren't in it for he glory. Whoever this was doesn't seem to have that in mind.
Eury has a better fix on their position from the voice and the shot; lurking at their 8, from somewhere up in the trees. Must be a long ranged specialist. All the more reason they should see the advantage of working together with someone who favoured the short.
Stupid. That's for sure.
"Return my bait and get lost!" The man screams over the roaring of the beast that lunges towards Eury. They pull back from the water and duck through the brush, coming around the tree their mysterious new 'friend' seemed to be dwelling in. Maybe they have a few more of those shock rounds. If they do they don't seem inclined to use them to help Eury out.
Another fitful cough from their grip. Wait… bait? The lump in their arms is shaking, caked with mud and something warm enough to know it's bleeding. They spare enough of a look down to see the triangular ears amidst the mess of fur.
"You used your palico as bait?"
Euryphaessa's rage roars so loudly they miss whatever answer this man might have made. Theyve heard of hunters that are less than honourable, working well below board to catch a hunt by any means, but this? Felynes aren't some animals, and palicos aren't tools! They're as much a hunter as their partner—! They celebrate successes and trudge through the challenges same as any; they work harder than most to make hunts as smooth as possible and Eury doesn't need a partner of their own to understand how much they value their hunters.
Eury presses their back against the tree and hopes the pounding rain will dull the scent of theirs and the felyne's blood. As much as they need to trap this thing, each passing second tells them that if they don't get this felyne somewhere warm and safe soon then it isn't going to make it. They reach down at their feet and pull out a large stone from the mud.
"Fine!" Eury shouts loudly enough to be heard; by both the hunter and the hunted. "You want this thing? It's all yours!"
They pitch the stone up into the tree, slamming it into the branch with a heavy crunch. It creaks under the weight of the hunter balanced upon it before crashing down and sending both into the swamp with a loud splash. The Mizutsune rushes towards the sound and Eury doesn't stay long enough to see who resurfaces.
*****
The small cave is a poor shelter from the rain but with the way this little one had been shaking Eury knew they weren't making it back to camp. Everything here is too wet to start a proper fire but they pull out their portable grill and fire it up with the last of their fuel. The small flame is enough to see through the shadows and keep the worst of the chill at bay. They fill their pot with the cleanest water they can find and set it to heating.
It's probably lucky the poor thing is unconscious; as gentle as Eury tries to be, the mud clings and they keep finding more blood than they care for. After the better part of an hour they're only just learning that their friend's coat is actually white and between the last of their potions and some clever bandaging its finally staying that way.
Eury lets out a long breath and plops themselves down on the ground; they are soaked to the bone, a little more wet is hardly going to hurt them at this point. More importantly the felyne has stopped shaking and seems to be resting more soundly. They hadn't given much thought as to what comes next. If the little shitface out there survived his encounter, he wasn't going to survive the coals the guild was going to rake him over after Eury reported all this. But what about his palico? Eury can't imagine the felyne will want much to do with hunting after being put through all that.
Eury places fresh water on the grill and lets the roil of the boiling pot fill the space for several long moments. They drain some carefully into a cup and with a few fresh herbs they'd picked they can breath in the fresh aroma of chamomile. Tea is never quite as good as their coffee of choice, but it is easier to put together on the fly. The pounding of the rain is making no show of letting up soon, so it seems like they are in for the night.
They are halfway through their cup before Eury feels something distinctly off. The rhythm of the night has shifted despite the still steady rumble of thunder in the distance and the patter of the rain. They've nearly scanned the entire cavern before they notice that the even breathing across from them has quieted and they look over to see the young felyne staring back at them.
"You're awake." Eury nods to her, offering a smile they hope will convey they mean less harm than their former partner.
"What happened?" Her voice is soft. The question is as careful as her pace towards the heat of the portable grill. She's a lovely thing, even still damp and bandaged. Her left eye is grey and dull but the one with light remaining is vibrant as she looks to them in confusion. Despite not having the faintest clue where she is or who they are, she maintains a poise through what must surely be panic.
"I was hoping you'd be able to tell me," Eury answers. "Though I think I understand the gist of it, I'd like to be certain all the same."
This immediately averts her gaze and she turns suddenly enough that she flinches with the pain its caused her.
"Careful now, those woulds are still fresh and hardly expertly tended. You're lucky you didn't get hit with its bubbles, if that gets into a wound you'd not be moving for weeks."
"Thank you… you were the one who saved me, right?"
"Something like that," Eury shrugs and offers another smile. "I'll get you back to camp once the weather improves. As it is you were nearly hypothermic from all that water."
"I can't go back to camp, not alone." She fervently shakes her head.
She couldn't be worried about that man…
"Because you're not with your partner?"
She nods.
"I cannot fail him, I promised. I promised if he would accept me I would do anything he needed, I would help him become the best hunter. Whatever it took."
"Even using you as bait?" Eury's expression darkened.
"No— he wouldn't. he asked me to wait there, that it was important I keep watch for any signs of the beast. I promised I wouldn't move until he told me to."
"And did he give you this to hold, while you did?" Eury holds up a small satchel they'd untangled from her while fleeing.
"Yes! He sad it was very important, that I daren't lose it! You found it!" She reaches fro the small leather bag but Eury pulls it back out of her reach.
"I emptied it while we ran; it was filled to the brim with ground female Mizutsune scales, the kind of pheromones that thing gave off would draw any beast within a half mile radius." They set the empty sack down next to her.
There was no question, what rattled Eury more was how ardently she seemed to want to defend him. Why? Why would she stand up for someone like that when Eury found a host of bruises on her that could never have come from a monster, at least not the kind that they were allowed to hunt.
"Even so."
Eury lets out a breath. "Fact of the matter is, treating you like that? Using you as bait, even unintentionally—" It wasn't. Eury was sure of that much. "That's against guild rules, he'll be stripped of privileges at best."
"I failed him…"
"No, he failed you."
Eury swaps the pot of water on the grill for the pan in their bag and tosses a few rations into the bottom. The sizzle of meat overtakes the silence; Eury spares any fixings on the meal, they're in short supply as it is and they don't want to be cooking too long lest they attract more trouble.
"Then what will become of me?" The question comes as Eury carefully turns over the meat.
"I never asked your name."
"Ciardha."
"Well Ciardha, for you after this, it's whatever you want. No one would blame you if you walked away from hunting after being treated so badly."
"No!" She shakes her head with more vigour than Eury has seen from her since waking. "I want to serve a hunter, I've trained for it my entire life. Both my parents work for hunters and I've always wanted to be a good palico just as they are. I've trained and studied and practiced. More thatn anything I want to! I must."
Well colour them surprised. She was reslient, they'd give her that. Eury wasn't sure they'd want to keep hunting if someone had treated them like that when they'd first started, but then again… the call of the wilds, the thrill of the hunt, the way it all swelled inside them from each step they took outside of a camp… maybe they weren't so different after all.
"Then, they'll find you another partner, a better one."
Ciardha blinks once, then twice, then as if noticing something for the first time she slowly cranes her head around.
"Are… you a hunter?"
"Sure am."
"Do you not have a palico?"
"No," Eury shakes their head. "The kinds of hunts I do are more dangerous than most, and I don't work well with other hunters. I've always gone it alone. I know that ups the risk so I won't ask anyone to take that risk with me."
"Doesn't that… get lonely?"
"Sometimes, but I have my reasons." Eury sticks the first piece of meat with their dagger and shifts it into their now empty mug before passing it over to Ciardha. "It works for me, most of the time. Now here, you should have something to eat. Sorry I don't have much in the way of proper dishes."
Despite her poise, her expression alights at the scent of the grilled meat and she takes a mouthful, then another. Eury watches, finding relief in the spark of eagerness left in her. She'd do just fine, and under the right hunter, she will flourish.
Eury scoops their own meal out of the pan and snags a bite right off the dagger.
When they dropped her off at camp tomorrow, maybe they'd finally concede to needing a plate.
She had been warned against venturing into the Brume.
Ciardha did not require much imagination to guess the reason why. She has frequented Pearl Lane and Limsa's lower docks; she knows what to expect from those whom poverty and misfortune have beaten and left bruised. She knows because she is hardly so different; for all her efforts to be better, Ciardha has once again found herself with innocent blood on her hands, with people who hunt her as a criminal for a crime she did not wish for. Were it not for the intervention of Lord Haurchefant, she would likely be among them, if she wasn't already dead in the snow.
Perhaps that is why she thinks little of it when she trails the pair of knights acting strangely. The lump they carry between them that Ciardha expects to be a sack is a body when they dump it in the snow. That should have been the end of it; should have sated her curiosity enough not to risk further trouble to the Fortemps who so graciously shelter her, but something in that red stone called to her.
"Take it."
The ensuing moments were a whirlwind that Ciardha still struggles to follow. The body, not dead at all, the scream of a woman and another taken for no reason save speaking her mind. Corruption amidst the soldiers is so fresh a wound it still bleeds against her skin, and Ciardha cannot simply leave the girl to her fate. To be beaten and stripped and made to dance unspeakable things for knights high upon their own power.
Fray seems to share her mind on the subject, but the sword they've tossed her way pins her more surely than if it had nailed her coat to the stone. The blade is larger than she is and perhaps just as heavy, but it isn't the size of it that dwarfs her.
"I can't." Ciardha shakes her head.
After killing Suzu, after failing the Imagasha house and watching her lord fall to ruin without doing anything to stop it—
She had sworn she would never touch a blade again.
"You're just going to leave her to die then?" Fray's voice is gruff with frustration. "You know dying is the ideal outcome where she's being taken. You'd rather she suffer that then pick up a sword to save her? Maybe you really are just like them."
"No." Ciardha insists more firmly. "I will not leave her, but I have my own—"
"You think you're going to take on a host of temple knights with that little stick?" Fray snarls before barking a single note of dry laughter. "Don't be ridiculous. We're here to punish those knights not given them a second snack. You take the sword, or the girl suffers. Those are your options."
Ciardha stares down the blade, its steel edge shimmers the black of her coat and the green of her hair. It is as cold as the choice she must make and the icy reality settles a roiling glacier in her depths. She cannot leave someone in need, her duty will not permit her to. She is to serve, at any cost, at any expense. Is that not her singular truth? She should have no desires of her own, she cannot truly make an oath to herself.
There is no choice. Not truly.
She has only one meaning to her existence.
Serve.
She reached for the hilt, the icy metal burning each finger as it makes contact.
She is already a traitor. Why not betray herself, as well.
Serve.
Save.
Slay.
The sword lifts in her grip with all the weight of the snows she pulls it from. Its bulk sheers not the familiarity of a blade in her grip and it shivers down the length of her in a frisson of anticipation seated deeply within her. The entirety of the Brume blooms open to her senses, each shadow skittering about broken stone and creaking pillar eager to edge her along. She knows what she must do without word or direction, feels it settle into the marrow of her. The red stone hungers in her pocket and Fray gleams with approval behind their helmet.
"I thought you might know your way around one." Fray picks up the 'stick' that Ciardha has set down and weighs it in their grip. "Good enough." They declare and place it at their back.
"You know how hungry a sword is for blood." Fray steps froward and doesn't look back. They know she will follow; Ciardha knows all too well.
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