Did a great job with Mourn and Dreamer! Personally I love how the background came out. A nice little piece where Mourn shows Dreamer the flower she named her after - Valeria
The Tail Mountains were known to harbor some of the fiercest storms in all the realm, especially among the high valleys scattered throughout, where the elements flurried on without regard. This was their domain, and any caught within their grace would find their fury writ upon the mountain faces, where strikes of lightning left their marks.
As the skies darkened, the rumbling of the coming storm shook the land. Brilliant flashes hissed through the air, followed by deafening cracks from the heavens above. When silence began to fail once more, static swelled in its place...
And then the torrential rain came.
The downpour swept in with a sideways gale, slamming against Adler's features as Rokhā raced through the muddied path. The Lightning Sprites flickered and swirled in an unkempt flurry, sending levin bolts against a nearby tree.
Bark stripped clean from its trunk. The massive pine cracked, and came tumbling down.
Rokhā veered swiftly, narrowly avoiding the crown of the falling tree, and Adler clung tight upon the thick fur of her back, ducking beneath the bolts flashing all around them as sparks and embers burst from the trees.
Adler had at first thought the lightning hailed from above, but it seemed the Lightning Sprites here were just as eager to whisk about to the fury of the skies in shimmering cracks.
She was in no position to face them upon their battleground.
Adler would have prayed for mercy, but she knew not the words to say, nor if they would be heard amidst the stormy Galemaw Valley.
There seemed to be no end to the valley-- until at last she spotted a narrow crevasse nestled at the base of the cliff face, promising refuge from the storm.
She had lost track of the main path some time ago and hoped this was the right way.
A sonic boom of an explosion rang out as another Lightning Sprite made a sharp strike toward the mountain, erupting the stone into a collapsing flurry down to the valley below.
The forces of this region were incredibly fierce and unwavering. It was fortunate the cave ahead had not been blocked by the falling stone.
The valley grew colder as the night drew on, and Adler-- soaked through-- had little time before the frost began to settle.
Rokhā rushed for the maw of the cave, while Adler pulled the Crystal Catalyst from her belt and held it out to light their way into the darkness.
As they passed the entrance, she felt the sense of gazes set upon her; she turned her head back, but saw no one.
Together, they slowed within the depths of the cave, soaked and weighted by the turmoil that had been thrust upon them.
Adler shifted and fell to the floor with a thud, trying to catch her breath as she looked around at the clearing of stone. The cave went further in, but there were no signs of death. They were safe, for now. Rokhā lowered herself to rest, looking at Adler as though she knew something that she did not.
"Mine apologies, Rokhā... The rains here come far faster than I am used to."
And they settled there, catching their breaths and letting the water upon their forms fall away.
Finally, when Adler rose to her feet and approached Rokhā again. It was only at that moment she realized that, at some point, the pack upon her back had fallen.
Gone were the equipment she had brought. She now bore only her satchel and Rosewind, the blade tight in its bindings at her side.
A soft curse left her lips as she turned crystal out to peer back toward the cave entrance, watching the drizzle of water meet the ground hard, trickling into the depths.
The water accumulated on the other side of the cave, forming a small river that continued further down within. A soft sigh escaped her as she peered back toward the darkness, a sense of dread stirring in her chest.
It seemed she would have no choice but to use her own aether here, lest there be some manner of crystal within that might help her. She looked to Rokhā, soaking wet and trembling.
She seemed more tired than usual, yet brave enough to carry Adler this far.
Wrath's essence pulled at something within her chest. Even she seemed to have grown to care for the beastkin.
Aligned as they were then, she turned toward the dark and began to make the descent. If there was a chance she might kindle a flame down there, she owed it to Rokhā to try.
The gentle drops of water slipped from the stalactites overhead, making small ripples across those otherwise still pond surfaces upon the floor.
The reflection of Adler's crystal shimmered as she passed, the dark seeming as though it were trying to close in on her.
'I feel another' Wrath warned.
"Voidsent?" Adler whispered, stopping in place beyond where they could see a colorful light ahead around a corner.
'No' Wrath returned.
Slowly, Adler began to approach the illumination, her steady steps carrying the weight of her motion with gentle crunches of grit.
When she peeked around the corner, it was then she witnessed the brilliance of iridescent crystal. They lined the wide walls, the high ceiling, even the very solid ground, save for a small path that had been made... and Sprites that hovered there to protect them-- each tending to their preferred domain.
She peered back down the path she had come, her own crystal still lighting much of her way. Adler would not need it here, not until she needed to leave.
Her steps echoed softly, then came to a pause at the sight of a series of marked maroon vases lining the base of crystal bundles. They had been packed and sealed, their contents unknown to her, but she left them best undisturbed, as she had learned previously.
Then the tremor of her stitches came-- the thin aetheric threads upon her skin. A soft gasp escaped her as she lowered her crystal. The crystalline clusters in the room held just enough light to keep the cave dim and leave her obscured.
Something was lurking in the dark beyond them, drawing an incredible spiritual influence.
Adler deemed it best to remain cautious. She crouched and leaned against a nearby stone, peering over the edge... and slowly, she reached down into her satchel to pull out a bundle of soaked reeds.
'It is not of the void. How boring...'
Adler came to a nearby bundle of fire crystals, lowering to a knee to cast her aether forth, calling the flames to catch to the reeds.
The warmth resounded and dried the reeds slowly, before catching flame. What was, perhaps, odd, was the ashy mist produced by the reeds-- casting out toward the cave and catching her eyes with a sudden burn.
"Hng!" Adler's breath hitched as she collapsed back.
It stung and watered her eyes. Adler tried to open them once more, but the sensation burned, and she writhed on the ground as the cave began to twirl and spin.
The crystals upon the walls had turned into faces she did not recognize at first, each witnessing her with crystalline stares of judgment.
Atyla's grief-stricken smile. "T'was not thy intention, yet thou hadst held the blade."
Th'essa's dire eyes sharpened. "Left me t' die in exchange fer yar own stitched skin."
Wither's chilling gaze. "Fed upon my soul till there was nothing left."
"Who is next?" They said, in unison.
"It was not my intention..." Adler quivered, recalling the desperation of every moment.
In those eyes, she looked to them all for a mercy that would not come.
Then she settled upon a face that she did not know. A face that bore limbals of spectacular sunset, horns of obsidian, and autumn locks.
It was her mother's own.
Not the adoptive one of the cold, harsh spires of Ishgard, but of the Tail Mountains. How steely her eyes were, how firm her composure, and how kind her worn smile appeared then.
"Kneel, child." Her voice came, whispered and rasped as Adler's own. "The trial comes."
Then, in the mist -- out from the shade of the darkness, the rumble began. It was that of a beating drum, sending forth pulses of aether through the cave.
Like a symphony of fluttering flashes, rings of light pulsed across the stone walls from ahead and back where she had come.
Again and again, in rhythmic fashion.
Backward feet came into view ahead, crystalline light shimmering upon them. At first, she thought someone was walking backward-- until she saw the furred, humanoid figure that had appeared before her.
Dreadlocks hung deep with age, thick and heavy. Large piercings adorned a face that seemed weighed down by years, and his strong body was covered in thick furs and feathers that dragged along the floor, sounding like the trickle of rain.
"Nhaama..." Adler shuddered softly.
And words began to boom from his lips.
"तँले सन्ध्यालाई देख्छौ।
वनले पहाडको श्वास बोकेको छ र यो हाम्रो गीत हो।
तिमीलाई दिइएको आत्मामा विश्वास गर, नहामाकी छोरी।"
In that moment, Adler felt the tightness in her muscles, the chill of the air digging into her skin, unable to look away.
As the entity approached, every beat of the drum sent a twitch through her. With all her strength, she clutched the burning reeds tightly and raised them toward the creature.
Only then did she see just how wide its eyes were.
Wrath, for the first time, stood outside of Adler's form, witnessing the trance. She had been cast away from her, a sense of freedom filling her own lungs.
At last.
She turned back toward the exit and began to run-- her pale skin stark against the dark. Her steps felt lighter than she remembered, and the floor did not feel so solid, yet she moved with quickened steps.
And as she reached the maw of the cave, there she saw Rokhā, and... a warmth within her. It was getting colder by the moment. The drums' pulses were still echoing from behind, shaking the cave, sending those thrums of white light forward.
A memory came then.
"Kahit saan ako - hahanapin ko ikaw."-- Wherever I am, I will find you.
Adler had heard once.
Wrath had learned the meaning of it, and the weight of memory began to bloom.
And Wrath remembered her name then. His own true name.
In the distant autumn fields of a realm Wrath could scarcely remember, he was settled beside a woman who resembled Wither-- she whom he had killed not a few months prior.
Why was she here, with him?
The hunter, Wither, and the hunted, Wrath. That is what he remembered... And yet?
Beneath the bark, their hands were held. They conversed of the coming dark, the war, and what they would do when he would go fight for them.
She wore a beautiful dress of blue, as deep as her eyes, partially covered by lavender locks.
He had worn his finest garb, properly fitted and crafted of exquisite fabrics, but he was no noble, just one who played the part well enough.
"When the war is over, will you find me again, will you not Cian?"
Cian raised his hand with hers, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. His voice-- his own voice -- was warm, returning her words and easing the mind. A mutual exchange of earnest dreams for the future.
"Bláth, there is no war that could keep me from you. My love will reach you no matter the distance."
Then Wrath returned to that stark, chilling cave, the cold snap instant.
The memory shattered.
Standing alone in the hungering emptiness again, feeling that dreadful pull to the void.
"Bláth..." Cian said in a shaken breath, the vapor rising from his lips.
Wrath had eaten her to keep Adler and himself alive.
A sacrifice.
Did she know? All this time?
In the end, they had found one another.
If he set foot out into the valley, he would not be leaving just Adler to die, but Rokha and her child. And how much more could others bear to lose? How much could he?
This realm had made him soft.
His fist tightened and the surge of fury boiled within. That coward, that coward Angura! She deserved to die beneath the mountain. This is what she wanted, is it not?
But Wrath does not abide.
He turned. Swiftly, he turned and danced through the shadows like he were a part of them.
As he came closer to the crystalline fields within, there he bore witness to the strange gale-wrought entity beyond. It had entrapped the mind of the girl and drawn her into inaction.
But Wrath drew closer still. The nearer he came, the greater the force that fought to keep him back. Each pulse of light drove him away, a resounding trumpet call blaring with every strike-- yet he was not deterred.
He leaned forward and reached his hand out toward her.
Closer. Away. Closer. Away-- Closer still.
Adler's eyes were shut, whispering soft prayers to every god she knew.
Wrath understood in that moment why Bláth had sacrificed herself for them. It had been Adler who wished for her to live, after all.
The drumming grew quicker, knocking Wrath back from his stance-- but still he pressed forward. Adler had begun to close consciousness, arms at her sides, the flame slowly losing its light.
"We have not come this far to die now!"
And the wrath ignited, bursting like a brilliant, malevolent flame that fought back the force, the light of Wrath's rage casting back against the ravenous gale.
"This one is mine!!"
He transformed into the vulture beastkin of the skies, taking the form of a Lammergeier as he surged forth against the galeforged dark and collided into Adler's back--
Two souls, as one.
"We rise."
The instinct returned, kicking her feet back and pulling herself away from the entity. Adler stumbled to her feet, blind and unable to see-- but raising up nonetheless. The pull to act continued to come.
"We must turn. We must run."
She briefly opened her eyes. The cave still swirled and spun around her, reflections of herself shifting within the walls, while the fire in her hands burned brighter as she made for the exit.
"Trust our path. We sense the light ahead."
And Adler trusted that guidance. She felt it-- the pull of where to turn, where to run, and at last, when to settle. Her eyes remained tightly shut, still burning from the mist deeper within the cave... But she had no need of them here.
Wrath guided her forth until, in her exhaustion, she collapsed beside Rokhā, panting heavily upon the floor.
Two Angura stood at the entrance of the cave, simply watching from afar. In silence, they looked to one another.
When Adler finally looked up, they were gone. Yet she had felt their presence, if only for a moment.
Eventually, the storm had finally passed.
There Adler set the reeds down upon a bundle of fabrics she could spare, leaving them to burn for a time as she traversed back out into the wet dark, still not entirely certain what had happened in the cave.
Each time she returned, she carried a new bundle of sticks to feed the flame, drying them before casting them into the fire. Eventually, a proper blaze burned within the cave, and she had even managed to recover a few spare furs and a waterskin that had fallen from the pack during their initial hurried arrival.
She walked through the dark with the Crystal Catalyst floating above her hand, raised high as she watched the Angura following her from afar, always keeping her within their sights. Yet again, they did not approach. They seemed less concerned with being seen and more intent on making their presence known.
These Angura were larger, broad-shouldered figures armored in thick leather, stone, and mud. The only reason she noticed them at all were the limbal rings of their eyes glinting through the darkness.
Whenever she tried to approach them, they kept their distance, never allowing her too close. She had hoped they might guide her toward food, but she had managed to find a few berries on her own.
Her thoughts drifted back to Amelie and her scholarly words-- how to identify them...
It had been a long time since she had thought of The Sharlayan.
What might she say of all this?
"Addie, you can't just go sauntering off into the mountains!"
And then Amelie would have insisted someone go with her. She would be certain of it.
A soft chuckle escaped Adler as she identified the berry and began to eat beneath the shrub.
Once she returned with a final bundle of sticks and logs, she watched Rokhā grazing outside the cave, seemingly content with their newfound little hub. It seemed she was warm enough to get back on her feet.
As Adler approached the cave, she peered up along the cliff wall and realized there were three Angura settled against it, looking down over her. Each held a strange pole dug into the mountain stone, keeping them steady. They were like sentinels etched upon the stone.
She gave them a wave, accidentally dropping a few of the sticks that she promptly moved to pick up.
One on the left laughed, raising a hand to wave back.
The thinner lithe one at the center swatted him against the chest, and soon the other on the right was laughing as well.
There was a sway in her tail then. She liked these ones much more... They had not attacked her. Then again, she had not disturbed their sacred grounds, so perhaps it had been less their wish and more a honed duty.
"Timi kina yeti anautho dekhinchau?" the Angura upon the left asked.
"Pray, I do not understand..." Adler called up, her rasp making it difficult to truly call back.
They seemed to discuss something among themselves, particularly with the one at the center. He was not like the other two, Adler realized, but similar to those who had attacked her upon the ridge, she surmised. He had joined them? For what purpose?
"I am..." The one on the left paused, glancing back toward the center figure for confirmation. When it came, he straightened and spoke louder. "Hilohaat!"
Hilohaat was adorned in heavier leathers, his skin just as rustic in tone as the other two. His features were sharp and prominent, and he seemed as though he smiled often.
Then he gestured toward the one on the far right, who spoke up quickly. "Ucchamān."
In contrast, Ucchamān appeared more measured, though not displeased-- more curious than anything. Both were of equal stature and might.
Hilohaat pointed to Ucchamān, then to himself, extending both arms outward to show just how broad their figures were, and how mighty their scales appeared beneath the leather at their chests.
"Bahādur... Warriors!!!" They each smiled wide and proud.
The one in the center seemed displeased, gazed fixed upon Adler. Then he too spoke.
"Ragahāwā," he said, beating a hand against his chest. "Hēryāhā."
Ragahāwā was lithe and smaller than the other two, his features painted and his attire more decorated with feathers and cloth than leather, though some leather was still present. These were the marks of the very kind of Angura that Adler had met at the cliffside, she was certain now.
What distinguished him most was the size of his horns. They were smaller, but more plentiful upon him. Six small horns, Adler counted.
Then Ragahāwā gestured downward. "What name?"
Adler spoke their names softly after each introduction, then stammered for a moment and straightened. She was not sure whether she should drop the sticks, but she bowed, then spoke when she rose.
"Adler, of the Angura."
The other two's expressions dropped, though the Hēryāhā seemed already aware.
"Not true name?" Hilohaat asked.
"N-Nay. I have come to claim it."
Then they seemed to speak among themselves in words she still did not understand. It was not like the Old Auri of the Steppe. Whatever was said appeared to concern the one at the center, though the other two seemed entirely unconvinced.
There was one word that continued to repeat.
Jhānkri.
Now, as she sat by the flame, she could still hear their voices just beyond the cave maw-- until they grew quieter and quieter.
She would remain within the cave until the remnants of the storm had passed and night gave way. Without the oak rod, she would have to find what she could from the land.
Leaning exhausted against the cave wall, she hugged her knees, peering toward the dark, then back toward the cave opening as her eyes grew heavy.
There was but one thought lingering in her mind, and it alone found her lips.
"Hm, Wrath?" she mused softly, "Who is Cian?"
But Wrath did not respond, and Adler drifted once more to sleep, her thoughts dwelling on the snowy mountain peaks as she wondered of the name that awaited her.
What am I to do, O Moon?
Thou hast brought unto me this uncertainty.
How darest thou do this to me?
Balance was mine, I earned it. Yet this place ...
It claws for that which I buried.
Yet I await it in eager anticipation.
Is this truly my decision?
Or am I simply so gullible to believe it?
What say ye, O Moon?
To have survived all that I have--
Only to come to this place to die?
Is this truly my calling?
This woman in all her wisdom.
There is naught I can do but listen.
We grovel and kindle the flame
But neither of us wish to burn.
Answer me, O Moon!
I am here before thee and I hear naught.
Yet do thy hands guide my actions?
When I stand upon the summit
Will you speak my name?
What will I have to answer for?
Am I to accept the sin within?
Where is the Spring I was promised?
Black waters upon thee, O Moon.
May the dire chill burn within my flames.
Let the rivers scorn thy flesh.
May crow's wings take flight.
Let bloom wither into ash.
Let the dial turn at last.
This name is mine to take.
And upon my name, there shall be pain.
"Rumination is the psychological habit of repetitively dwelling on negative thoughts, past scenarios, or distressing emotions without reaching a resolution"
Let me believe the world is as it is seems.
It's not that deep, and it isn't more than make believe.
These moments I am most human, but it's daunting.
My mind gets into it with itself about truest intentions.
I have a hard time trusting people because people are untrustworthy.
This is not true for everyone, and I have a hard time believing that.
There is a part of me that wishes I was as firm and unyielding.
But then I know it wouldn't be me, and so I'll cry for both of us.
I hope there is a comfort that I bring, but I couldn't possibly know.
These actions are all I have to go by, and thus do they weight heavy.
Memories are plenty and they've painted this canvas black.
All colors of the spectrum built a piece I call rumination.
So I will dot the piece with bits of light, those friends of mine.
I know you're trying, and I hope you know I'm trying too.
Ever since I set foot upon the grounds just outside my Order's Estate, I knew not how far I could go. A deep sense of fear riddled itself through my stitched skin, and so I remained. I thought--had I left, would I be forgotten? Would I lose all that I had fought to create? Would my destination become my ruination?
Yet it is not so.
Luwalhati entrusted within me the courage and warmth to try. Senkyo fortified the will within my soul to act. Sarva set rhythm and balance to my form, that I might survive. Erdenetungalag taught me of the land from which I hail. The Stormslayers and Avragch Tribe granted me reprieve when I needed it most. All who had intercepted my path led me forth into ascent, that I might reach the summit.
"I hope you find what you are looking for," Luwalhati had once said.
And this is where my mind began to wane. Long have I suffered under the weight of a puppet's strings, heeding to the tasks given unto me. It is etched into my skin, and I wear it as a reminder of my distant past. False purpose. I bore not the choices of my own accord, yet after years of suffering-- now I bear this freedom in my soul to choose.
I may decide my own purpose.
And what have I chosen, at last?
As I ponder this question within my abode, this newly established cabin of mine by aid of the Avragch Tribe... what is it that I seek to find amidst these lands? I peer out unto the vast expanse of the Tail Mountains and Steppe beyond... I am filled with a sense of overwhelming grief. Where does The Marionette belong, now that no strings remain? Who is she now?
I pray to Gods who are not mine.
I stand amidst lands that do not know my name.
I grew used to the bitter cold of Coerthas.
I long for the certainty of splendorous love.
My path had led me here and for what? For what, I ask?
Because there is purpose here. I have seen it so.
I am here to prove my worth before whichever Gods may see,
That I may pray unto their grace and claim the name taken from me.
That I may survive the staggering frost and find my warmth again.
And that, by Nymeia's grace, I may return to my dearest Hearth in the end.
I will stand upon the precipice, resolute beneath the heavens, as a testament to those who have suffered.
Then shall I learn the path of spirits, and seek to ease thine at thy side.
Limsa Lominsa's morning waves brushed softly against the sandy shores of the Mists. Fishing vessels drifted out across the sea for their morning catch while gulls wheeled overhead, their cries carried upon the ocean breeze. The bamboo-paneled door of the humble abode slid open, welcoming the warmth of the sun's rays and the gentle, salt-laced air.
Adler stirred slowly beneath the thin covers of the bed, settled in contentedness after another fruitful evening of feast and conversation. It felt far different from the dreary, damp room she once claimed back at the Artifact Tavern. There was a different kind of life here.
Her attention was pulled by the gentle brush of the air, and she turned just enough to peer back toward the doorway.
And there she was.
Arms crossed, leaning against the frame-- her dearest Hearth.
The warmth upon her bronze skin made her seem as though she were the very morning itself. Her hair fell along her back in long, untamed waves, thick and full, draping over the strength of her form. Her white scales and horns caught in that glimmering light. Was she smiling? Adler could not yet tell, and amidst the quiet of the morning, she lingered there, quietly undone by the sight.
Glory and splendor.
Adler parted her lips to speak. That warm gaze turned--
but before they could meet...
She awoke again.
The crisp, cool air kissed Adler's cheek, chasing away the last traces of warmth that had lingered from that dream. The rising sun had begun to touch the high peaks of the mountains, though it had yet to reach the valley where she lay.
The furs and leathers granted to her by the Olkund tribe had kept her well through the night, and Rokhā's presence had been felt for most of it... Though now she had moved nearer to the treeline, stomping and huffing at something just beyond the trees.
The instinct to remain still, a lean to fear settled in Adler-- But she did not allow it to hold, nor would Wrath. She broke from it, reaching for her rapier beside the extinguished campfire and climbing to her feet.
For a brief moment, Adler studied her surroundings-- the babbling of the nearby river, the shrubs and reeds she had plucked the previous night, and the hushed stirring of brush caught in the morning wind. Only then did she ensure nothing had gone missing. It would not have been the first time something had been taken from her camp-- but this did not seem to be the case here. Whatever had drawn Rokhā's attention, Adler could not yet see, but she trusted her judgment.
She cautiously approached the treeline and raised her Crystal Catalyst high, the glowing crystal casting its light forth into the still morning dark. Still, she saw nothing and guided Rokhā back toward the camp.
It seemed it was time to move on, she decided. She quickly crouched beside her things, bundling them into a tight fabric spiral and hoisting them atop Rokhā. Once secured, she grasped the beast's fur, scaled her side, and swung herself into the saddle, settling in.
"Ch-ch." The sound slipped from Adler's lips.
With a sharp jerk forward, they moved once more, and Adler kept her gaze fixed upon the treeline as they passed-- seeing nothing but walls of pine hemming the valley.
"What had that been?" she wondered.
The path here was difficult to follow. This particular stretch seemed far less traveled. They had even begun to peel away from the river, heading further into the valley toward a gentle ascent.
The sounds of the river were not far, and the otherwise quiet whispers of the wind upon Adler's obsidian horns told little secrets-- like where beasts, far more hungry than she, dwelled amidst the wood. They would make certain to avoid those telling howls.
Her golden limbals often lingered on things she had never seen-- like the Giant Mountain Bees, who fiercely guarded their massive cliffside hives, or the Great Lammergeier beastkin high above, ever watchful as it encircled prey.
She often wondered if it had seen her, or understood her place here. Perhaps it judged whether she was worthy-- or considering her for its next meal.
They eventually came upon a discernible path, one that had been walked some time before. It was a subtle thing, but Rokhā followed it for a long time and Adler trusted her then too.
Adler turned and leaned to gaze back along the path behind them, finding little indication that they were being followed. A swift little creature darted into view for but a moment-- then it was gone in an instant. It might have been running from something, and for that, she was glad they were heading this way.
The path continued up along the mountainside, climbing gradually as it wound beside the ridge. Ahead, it curved outward along the cliffside, and it was there Adler spotted some kind of stone pillar decorated with fluttering flags.
"Rok!" Adler chimed, and Rokhā slowed to a halt. She turned and looked around once again, but saw no sign of other markers, nor any telltale signs of recent passage. The quiet breeze in the air gave her no pause for concern.
When she gathered her courage, she slowly climbed down from Rokhā's back, her sandals crunching against the gravel of the ridge path.
Adler moved to inspect the oddity further. She brushed a hand along Rokhā's forehead, pulling a bundle of reeds from her satchel-- those she had gathered by the river-- and offered them to the beast. Rokhā seemed to enjoy the strange taste, though Adler had tried them herself and did not enjoy them. She was glad one of them seemed to.
Then she made for the pillar.
Each step gave a gentle crunch as she drew nearer... and as she did, the valley opened before her. Azim's light stretched across the valley, casting renewed beauty over the land below. The surrounding peaks cradled it as though it were a babe.
It astonished Adler just how vast it was. Had she crossed all that? Truly?
She turned then to the stone pillar, realizing it was far larger and more intricate than she had first believed. It towered high into the air, standing firm against the elements. So weathered was it that time itself seemed etched into every stone mounted there, the lower portions worn oldest by the passing years.
As she looked upon the shrine, she saw an odd vase nestled within an alcove at its base, where what might once have been offerings lay long dried-- or else picked clean by beastkin. The tower itself had been formed from stacked stones of differing color and shape, as though gathered from many places rather than a single one. Her brows furrowed as her gaze lifted toward the top of the lofty pillar, where small colored flags fluttered in the wind, all tied together from various cloths.
It would serve well as kindling for the flame she would need this evening. It made sense to gather a few before the rains came.
She began to scale the pillar, hands searching for sturdy holds as she climbed slowly. Her sandal found a firm crook, and she reached upward to snag one. The stone pressed harsh against her stitched fingers, rough in texture.
Rokhā bellowed a sudden cry!
Adler jerked back, turning toward her-- an arrow struck where her hand had just been, shattering the stone into a spray of fragments.
Chrrrck!
Adler lost her grip, flailed, and fell, striking the ground hard with a heavy thud, gravel and dust scattering into the air.
The fall knocked the air from her, but not enough to still her. Adler rolled onto her side, hand already reaching for her rose-hilted rapier.
Another arrow came from the treeline above-- from the ridge overhead-- loosed toward Rokhā.
A plume of smoke burst upon impact. Rokhā bellowed once more as the force struck her, causing her to sway. Her body collapsed to the gravel-- then began to slide.
"ROKHĀ!!" Adler cried.
Adler sprang to her feet and dashed after her, unconcerned for the assailants then. She clipped the rapier back to her side and reached for her, fingers digging into thick fur as she drove her heels to make furrows into the dirt, fighting to slow the descent.
It was no use.
Her footing gave, and she stumbled forward, dragged along behind Rokhā as the slope pulled them both toward the edge.
Staggering to her feet, Adler drew her blade again, using it as a staff while she thrust her crystal upward and channeled aether through the Catalyst. Her gaze snapped to a jutting section of stone along the ridge above. With a sharp motion of her wrist, she released her magicks.
A jolt of unaspected aether struck true-- and the stone sheared free.
It crashed down along the slope with a rumble, grinding against the gravel until it caught just ahead of Rokhā's sliding form-- halting her momentum, stopping her short of the drop.
A breath of relief left Adler-- then her crystal snapped upward once more. A barrier flared into being around her just as another arrow struck, shattering into fragments and dispersing a powdery substance outward in a violent burst.
She stumbled back from the shattering barrier, blade raised toward the treeline above-- but there was no sign of whoever had attacked her.
'Behind.' Wrath hissed.
Adler turned, gaze snapping down over the edge of the ridge she stood upon. A pair of scarlet limbals glowed within the brush-- and another arrow followed. This one struck the ridge bluntly, bursting into a thick cloud just beyond her.
With a flick of her wrist, she surged aether through her Catalyst once again, sending a sharp Veraero gust outward to disperse the plume away again. The ghostly pale power scattered to the embrace of the winds.
Wrath surged within her-- urging her forward, urging her to leap down and meet the assailant head-on! Adler resisted this. That path led only to uncertainty-- and she would not gamble Rokhā's life on impulse... And she had made a promise.
Instead, she retreated toward the ridge wall, keeping low and out of sight from both above and below-- where she knew eyes to be.
'Coward!' Wrath taunted.
"Hush!" Adler bit quietly.
In that brief moment of reprieve, Adler carefully moved down toward Rokhā. Her chest still rose and fell. She was alive and relief washed over Adler.
Was she being hunted? It seemed unlikely-- these had not been lethal attempts.
What then? Adler considered that maybe she had done something to upset them? Her gaze drifted back to that stone pillar, to the flags that fluttered in the wind. Realization dawned upon her then-- they were no simple fabric.
Had they also been the ones who had stumbled upon her camp? It was beginning to come together.
Whoever they were, they were incredibly resolute in their silence. It was as though even the wind could not carry their steps, hidden amidst the grandeur of the mountain.
There, Adler weighed what she might do next. She would not leave Rokhā's side-- not when she was in such a state. She turned to look back at Rokhā-- and then saw it, at the corner of her eye.
A Xaela male of toned copper skin hung from the edge of the ridge, a mountain axe buried into the stone to anchor him, a painted shield braced close-- white ink marked his features. He was clad in leathers and furs taken from beasts she did not know.
How had he gotten there without making a sound? Not a single stone had fallen-- not one.
It was Wrath's voice, once more, that commanded her to act.
'MOVE, FOOL!'
The Shieldbearer Xaela remained still as stone, while the second had climbed onto the ridge, settling near the pillar as he spun a pair of bola bindings.
It was as though they had known Adler intended to move for the ledge. She did not notice the other-- her gaze still fixed upon the Shieldbearer, unsettled by the frightening silence with which they had moved. It was then she realized what they were.
Angura. There was no doubt.
His copper-toned skin was deep, as described in those old tomes. The Ri-Sta in his grasp, from which he hung-- tools used to ascend the mountains-- and a painted shield? That was not something she had ever seen written on any page.
The sharp whistle of the bolas cut through the air.
As they came near, a surge of Wrath's essence lashed forth from Adler's back like a vulture's talon, striking the bindings from the air and sending them tumbling away before the manifestation swirled back into her.
"Devetā!" the Shieldbearer exclaimed-- and Adler barely caught the word.
Then he leapt toward Adler, intent on pinning her down-- but Adler was quicker.
Instinct drove her. She leapt back toward the ridge wall, narrowly avoiding another set of bindings as she ran partway up the stone. Then she kicked off-- a burst of aether carrying her outward toward the rock where Rokhā lay, intending to land upon the stone behind her.
She overshot.
Her hand failed to catch the upper branches, and she stumbled forward into them, an uncontrolled descent to the forest floor. Branches snapped as her satchel snagged against them, whipping around her while she spun in a chaotic flurry-- the impact knocking the air from her lungs as she struck the soil and fell into a coughing fit.
It was Wrath's durability that spared her a broken limb, yet she could feel the imbalance slowly growing. She had used too much of Wrath's side of the coin. She would need to take care not to rely further upon that influence-- her skin already shifting in tone from tan to something paler.
She would repel the Shieldbearer first, she decided.
Clumsily, she forced herself back to her feet and stumbled to a tree, pressing against its trunk as she peered around its edge-- but they had already moved from the path.
Her gaze swept back and forth, but found nothing. No sign of their coordinated efforts.
And there she remained, keeping Rokhā in sight from the treeline, content to allow the silence to settle.
Half a bell passed and there was no sign of the Angura. The day was already waning, and she would have little time to find a place for her next camp. If they intended to follow her, then she would continue onward all the same.
They had left her alone for now, and she kept Rokhā in view at all times. When she saw movement from the beastkin, she made her way back toward the ridge and knelt at her side. From her satchel, she pulled another bundle of reeds and offered them forth.
"Rokhā..." Adler whispered.
Recognition flashed in the beastkin's eyes, and she began to eat. She seemed entirely unfazed by the whole ordeal, which garnered a soft laugh from Adler.
"Been through much, hast thou?"
After easing her hand through Rokhā's fur and ensuring the stumble had not harmed her further, Adler dug her fingers back into the thick coat and climbed once more toward the saddle. Her bruised and battered form made the effort a struggle, but she managed.
When she finally settled herself, she paused to look upon the stone pillar once more and those flags dancing in the wind.
"Forgive me."
And both began to move once more. As Adler swayed upon the saddle, she wondered if the path ahead would prove more treacherous... but she would not turn back now. If she faltered here, how could she ever dream of one day reaching the summit?
The Tail Mountains are a wide region of rugged terrain, hidden valleys, and lofty peaks. They are home to some of the most resilient life in all of Othard. Few dare travel these paths, for they lead only toward the icy tundra known as the Dalvalan Grath, bordered by the vast Knowing Sea to the south and the frozen Blindfrost to the north.
It is said that were it not for the tribes who inhabit these regions, there would be no discernible paths by which one could traverse them. Even still, the mountains remain perilous, and few undertake the journey without the aid of those who dwell there-- if one can find them at all.
One such people is a Xaela tribe known only as the Angura.
Very little is known of them.
In the southern reaches of the Tail Mountains lies the Galemaw Valley, a dense, forested valley that hugs the outer rim of the range. While the inner peaks pierce the clouds, this lower range offers a merciful passage; a trek through the valley could take a week to complete, but with the companionship of a Mountain Dzo, it could be completed in three.
Adler had made the trek on her own toward the valley but found herself caught amidst a flurry of conflict between horn and wing. A herd of Dzo were being swept down upon by a set of eager Muu Shuwuu, and Adler acted swiftly.
The battle had ended and Adler held her rapier, Rosewind, out toward the Muu Shuwuu now lying still upon the riverbank as others fled. As she steadied her breath, she slowly lowered blade and crystal to holster both upon the side of her feathered robes. Adler turned and approached the Dzo who had narrowly escaped and found a man there who introduced himself simply as Naranjargal, of the Olkund.
"Thou art kind," Adler began, "but I was simply on my way." She moved to collect the bag of supplies she had dropped to fight, which she had garnered for the journey ahead.
Naranjargal let out a bellowing laugh. "Oh, come now! The Dawn Father has witnessed your deeds. Please, it would be an honor for you to journey with my Dzo!"
The tall, broad-shouldered Olkund insisted.
He made a noise with his mouth, a 'ch-ch' that prompted the largest of his Dzo to move nearer to his side.
"This is Rokhā, eldest of my herd, but still strong. She thanks you for your protection. I feel it. I trust she will protect you too on your journey." He pointed briefly to Adler. "Take your hand, let her know you." He brushed a hand upon her head and ruffled the fur there. She seemed to like that.
Adler's hand raised slowly and came to brush along the Mountain Dzo's tough fur, thick with age and stern of countenance. She would make an impeccable ally, she knew.
She had only seen them in Reunion, but these were much larger nearer to the mountains. Adler peered back to her things and knew that such a journey may prove daunting without such a companion.
"What shall I return with?" Adler asked, watching as Rokhā began to graze.
The Olkund seemed almost too quick with an answer.
"A bundle of Tail Blue Poppy, if you must. My daughter grows ill, and normally she takes the Dzo to the water, but not this time... I meet few who journey that way. Bring this back to me and I will see you repaid."
Naranjargal taught Adler how to mount the beastkin for her shorter stature, how to keep her things tucked upon the hump of her back and that Rokhā ultimately will choose the path, but Adler can suggest.
Then, her journey to the Galemaw Valley had truly begun.
A few hours into the valley, the morning light began to cast itself upon it. Azim's dawn had come, bringing much-needed warmth. The mist clung to the skin with a persistent chill, while the river's gentle babble brushed along Adler's obsidian horns. The wind traced a soft caress as she swayed upon the back of the Rokhā.
This was not the glacial north the Angura were known to cross, but a more hospitable stretch-- one where travelers might admire the peaks from below and remain close to the resources needed to endure them. It would be a long journey across the valley, Adler knew-- and she had been warned the path would not be easy even still.
She was far from ready to make the fabled ascent to the summit, which was said to grant an Angura their name from the tribe. She had not yet even met them, but hoped they would accept who she was, having been taken so far from them as a babe.
In truth, Adler had no intention of attempting the summit yet. Rokhā did not know her name-- nor did the mountain, nor its spirits. It was not a rite she had earned.
For a month, she had labored in earnest to comprehend the Olde Auri tongue and read the tomes of her people. Erdenetungalag had said it was her rite to learn the language. She felt confident in that, at least. It seemed to come naturally to her, even if emboldened by her strange Ishgardian accent.
She had done well not only to prepare for this journey, but to face places that once frightened her: the library.
Florette Athenaeum, Scholar's Crossing, and Kholyn Ger-- she had wandered them all in search of knowledge on the Angura. Yet within every tome, the truth seemed uncertain. Each account differed from the last until it became impossible to discern what was real and what was not.
Adler realized that perhaps the only way to truly know... was to make the journey herself.
What information she did gather, however, proved significant. The Angura's use of Mountain Dzo-- to traverse the terrain, aid in travel, and even sustain themselves-- seemed almost obvious in hindsight.
Yet Adler knew very little of the beasts themselves. Her first attempt to claim one had ended in failure, earning only the laughter of observers at Reunion and leaving her with a few freshly stitched wounds-- hardly the first to mark her skin.
A result of the odd spirit dwelling within her: Wrath.
'Let us find another kill!' she hissed.
Adler ignored her.
Now she rode upon Rokhā, advanced in age, yet still strong-- more tame and even-tempered than the others she had encountered. Her steady stomps along the riverbank were soothing. She was so large Adler could nearly reach up and grasp the pine branches overhead.
For Rokhā's efforts, the Olkund had asked little in return-- those Tail Blue Poppies. It dawned on her that she did not know what they looked like... Blue, she assumed.
At first, Rokhā kept to the rivers, guiding Adler's path. From time to time, the two stopped at the water's edge to drink and rest. When the beast settled, so too did Adler, taking the time to make a small camp from the supplies carried upon Rokhā's back.
The air had begun to grow colder as night crept over the valley, and she would soon have need of a flame. For a time, she set about the task by hand, conserving her aether while carefully stoking the fire herself.
When the moment felt right, she drew an oak rod from her pack and cast her line into the river, curious what fish might dwell beneath that vast rippling surface.
What she had not anticipated was the ferocity of what lurked below. One such catch nearly dragged her into the current entirely, and she might have lost the rod as well had it not snagged against a stone downstream.
After catching a few Tail Mountain Minnows, Adler spent some time drying off and cooking them beside the modest fire-- yet another lesson learned from Luwalhati.
It was she-- the finest fishmonger Adler had ever known-- who had given her the confidence to pursue this journey at all. To seek what she could of the tribe and the lands from which she hailed. Adler knew little of her own gods, and less still of the spirits that dwelled here among the mountains.
Hati had been thrust upon a journey of her own-- one she had never chosen-- and yet she endured. Thrived, even, though it was difficult. Still difficult.
She could never return to her island.
And so Adler could not allow herself to do any less. She would return to the mountains-- if only to stand once more among her people. Then perhaps she might return with stories to tell... something to ease Hati's homesick heart.
She had to try.
As Adler settled beside Rokhā by the fire, legs drawn close and arms wrapped around her knees, her thoughts drifted toward Luwalhati's island gods, and she wondered whether the mountains bore gods of their own. Each island god, as she understood it, held their own domain and acted according to their nature.
They did not act out of malice, but because it was simply what they were. Adler found comfort in that, even if she scarcely understood them. She wondered whether they heard her prayers at all-- and whether the gods of the mountains were watching her now.
Azim's light had faded, but Nhaama's gaze had begun to rise overhead.
When night finally came, Adler lifted her gaze toward the stars and wondered what it might be like to live among them.
Who, beneath that vast black tapestry, did not look toward those wayward glimmers for guidance? Adler often did so herself-- and here she was now, searching them for answers... yet none came.
It was beautiful all the same.
Her gaze lingered on the stars, and her thoughts drifted to the stories Luwalhati had shared with her-- of island spirits.
"Tadhana nagpakilala sa'tin," Hati had said.
Fate brought them together.
Yet now they were so far apart-- Hati upon her own journey to reconnect with her island gods, and Adler here amid the mountains, searching for her own people.
The mountain valley felt like a different world entirely. One where perhaps the answers to her prayers-- whether to the Spinner or elsewise-- could not truly reach her.
Did the mountains here grant endurance, as mountains seemed wont to do? Had some spirit of stone or snow noticed her? Did it watch her journey in some distant, silent way?
It seemed plausible to her-- but where was her place in all this?
'I sense no danger,' Wrath began. 'How boring.'
Adler sighed, peering toward the flames. "We need not seek it out. These lands be danger enough."
'What frightens you so? Few could hope to contest our strength.'
"And yet we lost against Wither in every bout with her." Adler leaned forward to stoke the flames, keeping them healthy in the dark.
'Yet it is we who live in the end.'
"We almost died, Wrath... Black Waters were upon us. Had she not simply let us..."
'Feed?' Wrath purred, a grin behind those words, if she had any smile to give.
Adler lingered in the silence a moment before speaking. "Khulan lives, but her counterpart does not. We survived. That was the cost."
'Why do you feel such sympathy for them?'
"Because they were our tribe once... In Ishgard, we had no one else. The Puppets had no one else but each other. Borne of flesh-melded Auri..."
Wrath did not understand Adler's care for such things. She never did. Often they were at odds over how their force ought to be wielded. Even now, balancing their aether by way of Red Magicks had proven fruitful, but Wrath longed to unleash her fury. She yearned for that moment to come.
But it never would, not with Adler's persistence.
'How sentimental...' Wrath chimed before fading to the back of her mind.
Adler's mind began to dwell on that self-made tribe. How many Puppets managed to escape their holds? Was it truly so few that now none remained? Would it soon only be Adler?
It was as the Tumet said... All tribes have their time.
Most unexpected of all, however, was where her thoughts drifted last-- toward something Luwalhati had once said of lost things.
Of a woman who had lost and suffered so much, yet remained kind. Ever kinder. Luwalhati had said she would pray to that spirit of her island for Adler, and so Adler found herself wondering why she had truly come here at all.
What was she hoping to find?
Her hands trembled as they tightened around the hem of her sleeve. Her thoughts drifted toward the small, whining warmth that had once rested within her arms.
The warmth that had been given to the frost of the mountains as an offering-- a plea for forgiveness for having left it.
As though she had ever been given a choice.
Questions flooded her mind. Questions of whether she belonged here at all.
Whether she had any right to stand beneath the mountain's shadow.
Gods... how long had it been?
If she attempted the ascent, what then?
Would the tribe accept her?
Would she find that warmth again?
Would he recognize her at all?
Adler collapsed onto her side, curling into the grass as the fire's warmth embraced her beneath the stars. Her obsidian tail drew close while her tears met the soil. Rokhā's fur seemed to hold her then, reminding Adler that she was not truly alone.
There, she wept.
Who was she to walk these paths?
The Steppe was only a day's journey behind her. Yet the weight of her grief would not allow her to move. Instead, sleep carried her away-- and she dreamed of the sea.
Phantasmagoria
(FFXIV Endwalker spoilers ahead. This was written for a fun prompt asking what a raid series of our OCs would be about. Here is mine!)
The Dreamer of the Source is said to have descended into madness and deemed that all those who have perished in dream, or had not awakened when their shards were destroyed-- deserve a proper peace. She had been putting people to sleep all across the realm and there is little time left to stop her before she has enough sleepers in order to bring about the Dream Kingdom and finally put those lost in dream to final rest, as well as everyone else.
Unei, of a distant Shard, appears before The Warrior of Light to speak of The Sleeping Gods-- who are said to reside in the Dreamscape. Is it through this that The Warrior of Light must first confront the being known as Etro, who stands at the gate of the Dreamscape, manifested by the otherworldly powers of The Dreamer. The Warrior of Light proceeds.
Etro stands at the gate-- A mysteriously powerful individual who protects the balance between the mortal world and the afterlife. In this, she decrees that The Dreamer is destabilizing this balance and must be stopped-- and is assured that only she can be the one to do it. However, The Warrior of Life steps up to the task, and Etro demands that they face her to show that they can truly withstand the trial ahead. Once defeated, Etro entrusts their hopes in the Warrior of Light.
The two then work together to proceed onward into the Dreamscape, where Etro uses her profound powers to protect the Warrior of Light from succumbing to the influence of The Dreamer. They ascend several tiers of the Dreamscape, facing the Sleeping Gods-- until they arrive at the final threshold in the deepest parts of the Dreamscape-- known only as... The Depths.
It is here that they meet with the mysterious Unei (again), revealed to be powerful dream sorceress and explains to the WoL that the dreams of the deceased from Shards they could not save had begun to manifest as dream entities which would consume the aether of those sleeping in various shards. In an attempt to stop this, she had given each Shard a "Dreamer" who would protect them from this threat. However, she did not anticipate the lengths at which The Dreamers might go to accomplish this task. One of them, Oneiros, went mad and convinced the others to join together, one by one to become stronger in their influence.
However, the Dreamer of the Source had been unable to be converted by such means, and instead of doing so, was trapped and sealed away so that the last remnant of her power could be consumed by the strongest of the Dreamers. A mysterious forest witch, Mourn Karner, had managed to prevent such a merge by unknown means and keeping her physical form tethered to the Source, where Oneiros has been unable to fully reach her-- thus granting them time to see that he is stopped.
In a sudden twist, Doga appears and reveals that both Unei and Doga were working together to bring in the Warrior of Light, in hopes of harnessing their power and turning to The Dreamers to consume them, that they may stop the endless slumber of the sleepers themselves. Etro and The Warrior of Light work together to defeat their monster forms, manifestations of eldritch horror! Upon defeating them, Unei asks that the Warrior of Light carry on the Rosetta Stone and a scarlet flower, a means for which they will be able to communicate with Oneiros and learn of the secret to defeat them, once and for all!
The Dreamer Oneiros is approached at the deepest parts of the Depths, where it is revealed that all of the Dreamers have all been consumed, except for the one of The Source. Onerios explains that the endless torment of nightmare cometh, and that they shall have need of a singular Dreamlike God entity in order to prevent it. Believing this was the only course for which the horrific endless sleep could be ceased. The Warrior of Light learns that the only way to defeat the Dremer Onerios is by the power of friendship.
With the Rosetta Stone, The Warrior of Light learns how to awaken The Dreamer of the Source and grants her the power to lock Oneiros down- and the third battle begins! With Oneiros crippled of his power, The Warrior of Light and Etro work together once more to defeat him! The battle consists of having to discern the realm Onerios from the false, and many mechanics that require memorization and lots of spreads and stacks, and y'know, Savage type shit.
Finally, with Onerios defeated-- yet another twist occurs, where The Dreamer of the Source, in a manic haze consumes his entire being and begins to use the Sleepers deep sleep as a means of prayer, then transforming and becoming known as Oneria, the Primal of Slumber. Thus begins the final battle between the Warrior of Light and Oneira. The mechanics include throwing the Warrior of Light into memories of previous battles, facing off against familiar foes and discerning reality from dream.
The Warrior of Light doesn't ever really strike the Oneria directly, as most of her moves tend revolve around placing obstacles in their way that they then must confront-- until eventually, they meet face to face... It is here that The Warrior of Light reveals the scarlet flower, prompting confusion to Primal Oneria before being knocked out of their haze and regains their own mind, returning to The Dreamer-- and the Dreamscape shatters with the release of the primal energy.
The Dreamer awakens to Mourn, who explains that she got hungry watching over her... and so, the two head to a BBQ in the Goblet to have veggie burgers. Meanwhile, The Warrior of Light and Etro discuss their victory and it is discovered that it was Dreamer Oneiros who had been making the Dream Entities all along, and that the Dream Kingdom was finally put the rest with the defeat of The Dreamer.
The End.
(In true SE fashion, there is a huge plot hole but I'm not fixing it.)
Amelie said, a sense of weariness in her voice. It was rare for Adler to hear it-- rarer still when she was being offered a gift. The duo were seated upon the foyer couch near the hearth of the Order's estate. In the soft palm of the scholar's hand rested a small red crystal.
"Thou dost know I am ever vigilant of my holdings."
Adler replied, a sense of slight confusion as her gaze rose to meet the sky blue of Amelie's own. She turned her hand over to let it fall into Adler's.
"Not what I meant."
Amelie smiled soft, the last gift she would leave Adler with before returning to Sharlayan.
As the crystal made contact-- suddenly Adler's mind fell to a new place altogether. The conscious memory of another sprung forth like a symphony. Amidst the overcast mountainous regions of Gyr Abania, Adler opened her eyes to witness a man clad in a scarlet Ishgardian garb, olive green hair and scruffy, lighter hairs upon his chin.
"Now ju lis'en."
The instructor's voice rang out across the field. The height of these mountains made the air feel thin and sharp-- each breath feeling less full in the lungs. The stone ground here seemed as though it had been treaded many times before.
"Pardon, but-- Thou hast yet to have said anything..."
Adler said with some confusion. She watched the man draw his rapier from his side and dash forward, a snap in the air as the blade made contact with her leg, prompting her to flinch.
"Olivero shall sho yoh hau tu moof. No'sing more."
He swung his blade up and Adler reacted, drawing her own with the sense that Wrath had given her in that moment. The motion was swift and clashing loudly against Viero's own. The first minute was spent watching how she moved in response to his strikes, correcting her when needed. She learned to strafe when he pressed on, keeping herself from meeting the edge. She learned to block when he swung and to knock his blade aside when he went for a jab.
Then came the acrobatics-- For which Adler could simply not follow. Viero leapt into the air and cast a spell mid motion, a delayed reaction from Adler, but just enough to duck out of the way.
Adler had never seen such a movement, the way his grace swept through the air-- a flick of his arms outward to send a surge of aether to course correct his trajectory, sending him upright. As he had, a short bolt fired out from the crystal catalyst, almost without any indication that a spell was being cast at all! She managed a quick pivot to avoid the bolt, but the strike behind her caused such a burst of aether that it knocked her forward into the stone floor, bouncing once into a roll till she settled.
By the time Viero's feet had touched the floor-- the crystal rested upon the hilt of his blade and a Vermillion Flare was sent forward into the air, exploding into a cacophony of raining hellfire.
"Enough!" And as the limbals of Adler's eyes dilated, the sclera black. Wrath. She leaped back with a series of hops, avoiding one blast after another. Her skin fading into a pale hue. Her tail flailed with rapid motion, hand extending outward as an axe coated in brilliant astral flame appeared, rapier falling to the floor with a clink.
"Aha, de speerit weethin yoh shines forth! Come to me, O' Wrath!"
With a dash, Wrath was upon Verio in a mere moment. When her axe swung, the blade redirected the strike with ease. Wrath's uncontrolled flurry of swings, powerful but lacking intent or direction. Each one was swept away with ease, which only further elicited that flurry of rage induced swings toward Viero. One hand behind his back where the crystal remained, the other-- his blade, controlling Wrath's motion.
It was too easy.
"See hau we dance, eh?! You weel learn dis."
And then came the riposte.
All that aetheric rage that had been channeled toward Viero had suddenly caused a brilliant light to shine from behind him, practically blinding Wrath as his blade swept forward and pushed out, sending all that compiled aether back toward her.
Wrath was sent flying across the mountain floor, crashing down into it as it cracked and cradled her to a hauls. The ax has sprang into the air and slammed head first into the ground, cracking it wide as the astral flame died out. The agitation in Wrath's form was clear, her body wrenching and swiping at the air with her hands, snarling and hissing as though she were some rabid animal.
"Such powah weeth no direction eez no powah at all."
Oliverio said, sheathing his blade-- letting his oddly colored green crystal settle to his palm.
As the flurry of Wrath's energy faded, that tan tone slowly returned and Adler came back into the fray, panting and catching her breath as though she had just run a marathon. Her hands were shaking at the extent for which Wrath had exerted both of them. When she finally came to settle to a rest, her gaze lingered upon the sky, watching a brilliant storm overhead.
"What be this place?"
Adler clenched her fist and slowly rose from the floor into a seated position-- then watched as Viero came forth, extending his gloved hand down to her.
The Ishgardian white fell like a hail amidst the snowstorm. Most were ordered to stay indoors and let it pass. Some had made it in and others with more perilous journeys did not find shelter so swiftly, like those of The Brume. It was there that Rebecca had intended to hide away until she could safely return to her true home amidst the Coerthas mountains.
"Thou art no true noble, girl!" Osyra de Vasch hissed with another shove toward the Midlander girl. "I have never heard of a House Autumnwind!"
The trio of Veena loomed over the smaller hyur woman, Rebecca Autumnwind. A duet laughed behind the tallest of them with thick blonde hair and captivating golden eyes. It was the sharpness that gave them that mystique.
Rebecca felt the cold wall stone press at her back, unable to turn and run this time. She often had before but the storm had made it difficult to move between pillars of safety.
"Am from... across sea, My Lady..." Rebecca stammered out, words rasp and soft like a whisper.
"There be no Noble Houses across the sea!" Osyra spat down back at her, a hand grasping the collar of Rebecca's coat and dragging her over. "And just like anything beyond Ishgard, there is only one proper place for thee!"
"What is--" Rebecca was cut off by the sudden fact that her feet left the ground.
Osyra hoisted the small girl up and threw her over the nearby ledge. Rebecca screamed as she fell, slamming against the rim of a chute and the rest of the way until she hit the base where the garbage had come to accumulate. It smelled of rot and warmth, like a damp sewer.
"Cease thy fickle lies and heed my warning!" Osyra called down, her voice echoing. "Do not ever again shame me with thy presence or gaze, understood?" And those lofty blond ears turned away and the laughter faded.
The snow fell ever so slowly down the chute, decorating the features of Rebecca... And the glamour failed then. Gone was the appearance of the Midlander woman. Obsidian black horns became apparent, a tail and scales revealing themselves all along. It was fortunate she had lost it only after being tossed over. Her hand raised to peer at the stitches upon her flesh, disturbed by the sight.
Little Adler. What an ugly creature.
The opening to the chute suddenly swung open and Adler scrambled to hide beneath the garbage, but it was too late-- and a pair of pearl pink eyes with lofty tall ears upon her head had found her. Another Viera?
"Now what art thou doing amidst such humble quarters?" the girl asked, a cherry smile peering over the edge of that chute's side panel. There was mischief in her eyes, but Adler could not discern its reasoning.
Adler pulled a fruit peel from her head and tossed it aside, slouching down against the back of the metal frame. Her form was lithe, weathered by effort and strife, yet she acted so meek. "S-Sorry… Not looking well for noble eyes ... Your grace." the Xaela girl frowned.
How rare a sight it was to see a Xaela amidst Ishgard proper.
"Nonsense." Atyla mused, a hand extending down within the chute, "Such pretty horns, gentle eyes and a button nose! An adorable thing thou art. Lie to me, you will not."
Adler rose from the rubbish and held a confused gaze to the offered hand. When she took it, the girl brought her up from within the chute and back out onto the snow-coated ground. A banister overhead kept the bulk of the torrent away. The Viera girl was dressed in a pink noble coat, lined with jewelry of a homeland she knew not the name of.
"What is thy name, liar?" The pastel pink haired girl asked, arms crossed with an inquisitive gaze upon Adler's tattered noble robes.
"Adler, your grace." She hesitated a moment and then bowed low.
"Grace?" she laughed, "My name is Atyla de Vasch, not Grace. You will do well to learn it."
As Adler rose, confusion met her features-- still uncertain if she were to be punished or worse.
"Not... afraid?"
"Of you?" Atyla smirked, looking the girl over with a huff. "I read all about your kind. Beyond thy horns and scales, thy stature is questionable and thou dost not speak with eloquence as I, therefore-- What have I to fear?" Her words were quick and confident.
It was then Atyla took a step forward to tap the chin of the Xaela girl, raising it up. Her steps continued to move around her, slapping a hand at Adler's back, straightening her posture. "This shall not do. Thou shalt retain whatever form thou dost wish, but so long as thou art amidst my company, thou shalt be taught proper conduct."
"Yes, My Lady." Adler said, nervously watching the girl pace around her.
"My Lady? I have told thee mine name, have I not? Thou shalt call me Lady Atyla-- Should I have to say it again, my ear shall meet thy skull. Thou dost understand?"
"Yes, My Lady!"
Atyla then flicked her head down and a pink ear came swinging down to thwap Adler on the head. An audible thump. It did not hurt, but it did cause Adler to flinch in surprise.
"I-I mean, Lady Atyla!"
Atyla rose up and smirked, a sense of pride that she had taught the girl something after all.
Over the course of the last three weeks, I have stumbled upon a few new songs from Spotify that were really outspoken on themes of drug abuse, relationships and anxieties. We all struggle in our own ways and to varying degrees but making music must be such a therapeutic experience. While I do personally enjoy doing my own vocal covers of music-- To be able to write out your own words and sing them is something that was always challenging for me.
Anyway.
Chris Miles - Reason
Chris Miles' Reason does a pretty solid job at hitting all the marks themed above. It has a very steady flow rap and just as much earnestness as other tracks I have talked about before. This particular track came at a really nice time when I was feeling rather heart wrenched over anxieties about my own inadequacies and fears of failing someone.
"Don't let them get through to you
Stay true and you will find
The reason you stay up at night, like woah"
It is easy to point to someone and say that this is the issue; but sometimes that opposition is really yourself. We can sometimes be our own worst enemy and this song really made me feel powerful enough to stray away from those kinds of thoughts and work on improving how I process my anxities.
Austin George - Manners, Hands On You, Heavy, Freak Like That
"Play it nice, but late at night, I know that's not who you are
It's different after dark"
- Manners
"And I know that you be alright all on your lonely
Spendin' nights in limbo, off doin' your own thing
But when you hit me, say you got something to show me
Hopped right out the phone screen"
- Hands On You
Austin George has very focal optics on affections, as it's almost wholly physically driven, and I think that is really interesting in the way he shows it in his music. Most of these songs all have a similar cadence for which is certainty his style and make it hard not to sway to. The confidence in which he can say the things he does invokes a sense of awe. To have that level of confidence to say-- You really want me and I need you.-- Is fascinating.
"So if you feel it's not enough, got ways that I can help
Know it may seem like he's the one, but trust me, girl"
- Freak Like That
There is a certain level of emotional bonding in a genuine relationship that I need prior to developing physical attractions due in part to my own neglect of that aspect in my past. It has generally lead to disastrous results and an emotional toll I am not keen to repeat. While these songs are much a reflection for me, they are quite profound!
poptropicalslutz! - RFSB, the new 925
"I know why she callin', when the shades fallin'
In this club, where you from?
Do you come here often?"
- RFSB
poptropicalslutz! is comprised of Christian Cicilia and Nick Crawford. I found my interest more in the way they design their music and the ease it brings. They have a very comforting progression to their music I find comfort in. The lyrics themselves can very in quality but they have a lot of fun songs that I find myself returning to in moments of dread.
"I had a girl tell me, "How much time you give it 'til you give up?
Can you outrun the hourglass?"
I'd rather break this shit in half, so I can live by the sand"
- the new 925
Really, there isn't much to say here, I just love the whole vibe. I am always pleasantly surprised for my shuffle to pull another of their tracks and find it was just as enjoyable as the last!
contradash - carbon, cat out the bag
"Cause' losing your mind look attractive in a world like this
It's doing damage and it's more than just some paint to fix
Download my brain and re-do it all again
I can't be hard to replicate with these-"
- carbon
contrdash has made an appearance on my list before with "Sold For Parts" and that song is still incredible and is a core means in which one can express the hope to surrender without fear to someone held so dear. Carbon and cat out the bag deal more with aspects of anxieties and the feeling of inadequacy and the surmounting fear that uncertainties will, inevitably, come to make themselves known and it could bring ruin.
"Slither out from the homies to hang out with ya
Never tell I'm in love and I can't fight it off
Ain't no secret I need it and I’m down with ya
Every time that she notice I ain't around, what's up?"
- cat out the bag
Cigerettes. Alcohol. We all have our vices and it is important to acknowledge them and to look back at the instances that wrought the path. There is always another way and it's songs like these that make me wonder if, despite recognition of those flaws-- Would they repeat the course? Do not give those vices reasons. It is difficult. It can be scary. We just have to care for our soul just as much as our bodies.
"You're asking me what I ate, I push my foot on the brake
monty.pk - car's in a lake, aren't you proud?, amethyst
Your head is crushing the dash, I watch it crumple and cave
Asking me what I ate, the fucking car's in a lake
Is that so pressing to ask? The fucking car's in a lake"
- car's in a lake
And it's bitter and burns as it rots through my teeth
Like those hollow-tip words I wish I didn't speak
But I'll grin through the hurt, asking "arеn't you proud of me?"
- aren't you proud?
monty.pk- a chance encounter. There are few songs that drive such a profound stir of emotions from me, but this artists has such a dynamic style that I did not even recognize that these three songs were all made by the same artists! Absolutely incredible talent and the last of my list, but near the first on my playlist.
"The cold beneath your feet
The words you're yet to speak
I'll never get so close again
I'll never get so close
- amethyst
With "car's in a lake"-- What a profoundly chaotic situation with a song so jubilant that it's lightly comedic. THE FUCKING CARS IN THE LAKE! I cannot imagine the emotional whiplash that might have been, but to tell that story? To live through that? I was in an accident once in my life and it was of my own arrogance. I learn quickly that mortal engines are not invincible, and neither are we.
Then there's "aren't you proud?" -- My Mother was all had growing up. Maybe it made me less outgoing or prone to avoid going beyond the foot of my door... But when I look at all the things my Mom did growing up, what she had to do to bring me the life I live in today? I'm profoundly overtaken with guilt. If I was in her situation, would I have found my own way?
I live on my own now-- 1,800 miles away from her and if it wasn't for her kicking me out-- I am not sure I would have had the will to find my way. I often think of her, all the things she accomplished and where I am. I hope she is proud of me despite my repeated failures.
"amethyst" To hold such close and deep affections for someone-- Only to have them rend and torn away. Months or years later, when that moments comes, when they chance upon your path and there is a deep melancholy serendipity. It may not even be that, just unrelenting surge of hurt and recollection. It can make it difficult to trust again. Though I am a forgiving and sentimental person, I hope for the best-- I have learned to let sleeping dogs lye... And in the end, I have to try again. We have to learn to try gain. What a beautiful song this is.
In the dark, a glint of steel from clashing blades had rung through the hollow corridor. Adler flung back through the air, curling into a ball to adjust her speed then spread her legs to land. Her feet met the ground in an awkward fashion but a bounce had her stabilize-- raising her rapier back up to the standard position, as she had learned from her mentor.
The cool air met her breath, tail swinging to the rhythm of her lungs. She kept a loose grip, steadied herself, and observed the fiend before her. The Void-wraith. A vengeful and wrathful creature that had tormented the inhabitants of this home. The family had managed to flee, but her duty was here. Such was the way of the Red.
"Again!" The voice in the back of her mind had said.
The Void-wraith had began to glow once more, another attempt to subdue the Xaela with a hypnotic gaze, but she was already prepared. The grey crystal Catalyst floating above her other hand swept forth to the hilt of her inverted blade, syncing with the gem there. A Magick Barrier formed to take the corrupted gaze with a mighty thrum.
Adler stumbled back to the sudden surge of corrupted aether. The screech of the beast had run harsh against her obsidian horns, causing a dip in her form and the barrier to shimmer. As it held, she began to flow her aether through the Catalyst in preparation.
When that stream of corrupted influence ceased, Adler's blade flicked out in practiced motion-- Veraero sent forth with a lashing burst that severed through the creature. With an acceleration, Verthunder coursed through her form and she dashed forward-- keeping mindful to the rhythm Sarva had taught her. Her boots planted before the creature and she swept the blade into an upward thrust into the heart of it. She felt the resistance of its spiritual influence and surged forth another bout of those unaspected magicks to burst out from it.
The attack caused an immediate reflex from the creature to dart away, the black veil at it's back swinging around to slam hard against Adler, sending her to the corridor ground. The memory of the mud coating her form came. The taste of crimson. The harshness of the downpour. The unforgiving chill of Coerthas.
"Now, Again!" The voice echoed.
A sudden flicker of Wrath surged in Adler's eyes. An attack was coming. She quickly rolled onto her back and rose the blade to block a slash of those gargantuan claws of the Void-wraith. A loud ringing. The bulk of its might had been too much and those vile blades came close and closer. Her other hand frantically adjusted to hold the other end of the blade, pushing back with all her strength. It was not enough. The weight of the Void-wraith's ferocity was going to crush her.
'Let me in!'
Wrath demanded. Adler knew better and refused. Her heart began to quicken and sweat trickled down her stitched grey features. In moments of desperation, she often prayed to The Spinner for guidance, but prayers did not come to Adler's mind. No. Her mind fell upon a pair of lava-like limbals within the depths of deep black sclera.
"Maharlika." She uttered.
As though her mind had suddenly attuned to the tactics of warfare-- Her Xaela tail flicked up to stab into the Void-wraith, causing it to lessen its force! In that moment of reprieve, Adler pushed up and turned her upper-body to knock those talons away and quickly rolled back onto her feet to the standard position.
The Void-wraith was already beginning to recuperate, steadying its gaze upon Adler.
The moment to strike was now! The Catalyst floating above her hand had become a veil of swirling red aether, and suddenly-- Adler surged toward the Voidsent, ignoring the winding gaze! With a swell of Verthunder guiding her motions, Adler swept her blade in successive strikes, weaving aether built up from the engagement to send forth a barrage of unaspected aether-infused cleaves. Upon the final strike, she swept the Catalyst and placed it upon the hilt for an ambitiously dangerous but decisive blow.
It was the precipice of her might-- where she surged forth her aether through the crystal, down into the length of the blade and back. A swell of blinding white came and Verholy burst forth, blotting the gaze of the fiend. The concussive explosion of light-aspected aether threw Adler back into the air. Much to her unknowing dismay, the crystal within the Catalyst had cracked from the strain.
With a kick of her feet, and a hand to the ground, she followed the motion to flip back upright and swept her blade and Catalyst into position once more. The target downed in sight and the crystal lined up for a final follow-up. She had surged her aether and then belatedly realized the damage upon the crystal, gaze widening as she tried to stop the spell-- but it was too late.
The untamed surge of aether collapsed there in her hands and blew both the blade and the Catalyst away from her, abruptly changing her trajectory to go crashing through the nearby corridor wall, collapsing to the floor within a side-room.
When Adler awoke, she felt an incredibly sharp pain in her arm. She rose from the debris and stepped back out into the corridor, one arm holding the other. Ash remained where the void-sent had been-- Cast back to whence it came. She had not required the final blow after all... And her ambition had led her astray. A familiar feeling... Adler gathered her blade and the damage Catalyst before departing the manor, relieved that it was over.
Another deed done. Too close for comfort. Far too close.
Adler awoke and rose in a shuddered breath, stitched hand clinging to the fabric. The race for air lasted for only a few seconds before she realized where she was. The moon still hung in the heavens, dwindling down as the morning made approach over the vast Shroud. When her breath eased, she sat the rest of the way up, her hand brushing back through grey and black locks with a sigh. The misty air of the morning forest filled her lungs.
"Must thou share thy dreams as well?" she muttered aloud.
Her silvery gaze shifted and lingered on a satchel a few fulms away, realizing the pouch had been opened and the supper within taken. It had been graciously crafted by Grandma Senkyo and now here she were without it. A huff.
"Nor did you warn me of visitors...." Adler grumbled, beginning to realize that despite their equilibrium, they still did not seem to prioritize the same things.
The whispered ethereal tone resonated somewhere in the back of Adler's mind.
"It was no threat to us."
She curled her stitched hand and looked upon it-- thumb brushing against the other fingers in some consideration of that. Who was she to determine what was harmful to them both?
"Aye, but unlike thee, I may now starve in these hills."
"No. Hunt."
A scoff. "With what? A blade?"
Adler rolled her eyes and slipped out from the thin sleeve for slumber and climbed to her knees to roll it into a bundle to store back within the satchel.
"Fish."
She paused in consideration before realizing that she had failed to buy a fishing rod from Hati. Her lip flattened some and peered back to the satchel. No, that would have been made off with as well.
"With what pole?"
"You are a hopeless wench. Other things on your pathetic mind?"
She reached for the satchel and pulled it near, stuffing the fabric away and peering toward the now extinguished plot of where a fire had been just the night before.
"Always." She mused.
"Your extinguishing hearth?" The tone was harsh and low.
The Au Ra pulled the satchel from the ground and slowly rose to her feet-- taking pause with the phrase, standing there. 'It were no simple flame, nor flicker.' Adler thought to herself, 'It was the kind of magma-might that formed entire worlds.' Hiraya.
"Why must you torment me?" Adler sighed, pulling the belt over her shoulder for the satchel to rest in place. "You deter me every step of the way. Can you simply not be delighted that she still looks upon us at all?"
Adler pulled her gloves from the side pockets and slipped them back into place, moving to a nearby pile of leaves to pull her rapier and crystal from within and sheath them at her side.
"Don't get greedy... She will leave if we do not show our devotion. We must."
She could sense that voice smiling in those words, but she also recalled that Wrath had shared her concerns over the matter before. What Wrath knew of romance was nothing short of a guaranteed order of restraint by city-state authorities. She trusted Wrath, but not that much.
"Says the one whom wishes to bring her a corpse as a show of affection. I will not have thee giving me advice on the matter."
She grimaced, crossing her arms as she moved to the nearby cliff edge to peer down to the path beyond-- Out toward the rest of the deep shroud.
"She is a warrior, is she not? Yet she bakes pies and lines feeble pesh."
"Dost thou not realize that we have yet to capture a single fish in our entire being?" There were no immediate retort to that and Adler chortled softly. "She had said it herself. A warrior must feed themselves a great feast to retain their strength."
"And you will starve. What does that make you?"
The comment drew her gaze down to the ground, Adler eliciting a gentle hum.
"I never claimed to be a warrior..."
"What about a ... Babaylan."
The word drew a sudden widening of Adler's eyes as she was stunned in surprise. It was rare that Wrath ever remembered anything that wasn't cutting something apart with her axe.
"You recalled that? Color me impressed... Yet it is not my place. I know nothing of it."
"A warrior will need her body and soul mended. Surely, you see it? Whom has witnessed rifts of darkness and sealed them? Whom has eased the spirits that they may know The Dreamer's name? Whom brought the might of the spirit within the Avillion Artifact to heel to her order?"
Adler shook her head. "Gaiana does not obey me-- She is my friend."
"Yet your friend killed our sister-- and she wishes for me to be banished as well. Surely your foolishness can see through that?"
Hesitance flashed in her eyes, squeezing her shoulder in concern. Wrath had been many things but fearful was never one of them. That artifact was the only thing that she had ever known to garner such a sensation from her. Adler shook her head.
"Khulan will live." She uttered.
"But Wither is DEAD."
Silence settled between them as they considered the reality of that. Wither was a dangerous woman and unsettled in the mind in a way that Adler had never been able to mend. Had she been more knowledgeable of matters of the spirit-- Could she have saved her?....
"I must first maintain my body if I am to tend the spirit. There be Shaman's of the Steppe. That matter shall be our next charge, but for now-- The White Root is near."
With a final glance over her wares, the sun had risen at last to kiss the pale skin of The Marionette. The path was clear then and the dangers of the night had passed. She still carried a warmth within her that would see her complete her duty. Perhaps once this was done, she might find waters for which to ease their souls both.
Content Warning: Graphic violence, blood, and disturbing imagery.
"Flesh knits easily but I know no means to mend one's mind."
- Mourn Karner
I wake up and feel nauseous. Where am I and why is everyone running? I don't want to be here. They keep talking, ears ringing. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop yelling.
My neck snaps back as the weight of the ceiling crushes me. My spine bends till it breaks and a cold snap floods my body until the pressure bursts. A scarlet pool beneath the mass.
It's just a dream.
Cold, so cold. Bare feet stinging on frozen ground, skin peeling step by step and snow decorated with scarlet petals.
The wind cuts into my skin and I am thrown off the cliff against nothing. Ribs crack against the ice sheet, skull splits in two and I witness east and west at once.
It's just a dream. It's just a dream.
My throat is severed and I cannot breathe, knees hit the scorching stone. I grip the opening in my throat as scarlet spills into my palm and it burns.
He yells. Why I couldn't just listen and shut up. Head is light but the pressure still builds. My words paint the ground in grey and it all fades to black.
It's just a dream. It's just a dream. It's just a dream.
"Valeria, it bites the senses." A whispered voice as light as the cold wind. The spice decorated around smudgy black lips, smeared eye-shadow around that singular scarlet hue within a curtain of black. The stone ground is firm beneath my feet and the garden is beautiful and she is here with me.
"That's why they call it spiced, Scarlet." I smile and no blood falls from me.
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