#fen lohro

[sliptohk]

Prompt #30: Amity

Hunched over the workbench, Fen raised her goggles even as her right eye slid closed. It was always a disorienting change, the flash of aether bursting into view with all the shifting shapes and colors that threatened to empty her belly if given time enough to overwhelm the miqo'te's senses. She would not need quite so long as that for the simple task before her. Fingers tracing the circuit from point to point, ensuring that the flow of energy was neither obstructed nor misdirected by the design holding the conductive pieces in place.

It had become a common enough practice that the engineer was quite capable of holding a conversation while working.

"It surprises me that you can sleep so soundly when you craft such dreadful things, Qata. Does it not bother you that your creations can be used to such detrimental effect to other denizens of our star?"

An ear flicked in response to that question, the young mage nearly scoffing in response, "I have seen you build weapons, Fen! Are you sleep deprived as those thoughts fill your daylight house?"

The tinker gave a dismissive sound of their own, "That is not the same! One could buy weapons anywhere, mine are works of art! Possessed of a unique flare to make them stand apart, one could not simply put my techniques to use in crafting them in great quantities!"

"Exactly!" Both ears flapped now in excitement, "The Alacran craft their poisons, woefully simplistic, if effective, as they may be! Alchemist and herbalist do much the same! My hands cannot flood this star on their own even if I were inclined to lower myself to such a base expression of my expertise!"

There was a quiet thump, as Qata had most likely been trying to raise her hands to flap about in enthusiastic emphasis for her words. A faint sloshing sound followed as they settled once again. Fen glanced across toward the Ooja. Her face at least, as the rest was submerged in a rather tightly sealed water drum. The two locked eyes for some time, before the conversation continued. Neither opting to acknowledge the odd circumstances they presently found themselves in.

"There should be something said for the nature of what has been crafted, not simply the prevalence of it. Can you argue that your mixtures are not explicitly designed to do harm? I could develop lovely little replicas should I so wish. Could the same be said for your… art?"

"Ah!" A rattle of displeasure as the small miqo'te wriggled about in their cage, "You said it so derisively! Its no less worthy of respect than the lifelong works of another!"

"Debatable, but in the interest of civility I retract any perceived disdain."

Qata was too naive to grasp sarcasm, continuing on with a satisfied nod, "Then I shall answer! Your pursuits favor the form just as highly as the function - so its quite possible for you to focus entirely on only one aspect should you desire. As mine exists solely due to the function I wish to explore it cannot be complete in any other fashion. But! I do not intend for them to simply be an agent of discomfort-"

"Agent of agony, the repetition makes it sound more poetic."

"Why does that matter? Regardless! They are learning aids to explore the way the body responds to foreign influence. And I tend to use them on myself! At least until I am confident in their degree of lethality."

Fen arced a red eyebrow, "Which would be?"

"What? The degree? None. Why should I want another to die? That would be a waste of both specimens!"

"Spoken tend to dislike being referred to as specimens."

"And you keep trying to refer to them as victims!"

"Unapologetically!"

"Release me! I want to storm out in dramatic disapproval!"

The Lohro woman wrinkled her nose, before giving denying that request with a firm shake of her head. Braids swinging from the energetic display. "No. Absolutely not. You will wait another couple bells, I have no idea just what you were doing with those skunks but you will not be tracking that aroma through here. Just let the bath finish its work."

"But I have so much work to do!"

"Behave and I will even spoon feed you a bowl of stew."

"… two bowls."

"If we continue our discussion."

Qata gave an assertive twitch of the ears. It was difficult to limit the entirety of expression to only them and her face, but she did the best she could. "Very well, but I keep telling you its easier to understand if you take a sample. Just make sure you let me out first for the sake of safety!"

"Yours or mine?"

"Both."

[sliptohk]

Prompt #24: I can't wait to go home and play this hit new tomestone game but WAIT, why is my rival waiting there in my bedroom?! or Infected

Such a treasure was a rare find, collectors offering far more than Fen could ever hope in exchange for whatever secret knowledge may lay upon those ancient treasures. Secrets of smithing or engineering lost to the ages. Studies of the flow and nature of aether disbursement through stretches of the star since filled with denizens who had long forgotten their original names. Unique methods of imbuing aether into the weave of common day clothing, or worked into the structures those advanced people once called home.

Or, in the Lohro's case, some sort of time-wasting diversion most likely intended for the younger generation of that illustrious time. This one in particular seemed to have some stick shape slowly moving about on the screen. A few pushes of the button proved that it could have its direction altered, and contacting small blips spread throughout the region only served to make the entire shape longer and more cumbersome.

Monotonous, yet oddly inticing to the engineer as she frittered away the walk with that mysterious tomestone stuck firmly into her reading device. Despite its simplicity, she found herself caught up in the mediocre action so deeply as to walk by her own shop a couple times while mindlessly circling the block. Only when she finally realized she could not cross the shape with itself, drawing some odd sound and unreadable foreign text, did the huntress pay proper attention to return to the store.

A scent was on the air, unmistakable when she opened the door. Familiar scents of plants back home discernable through the tang of metal and acrid scent of chemicals she had left to separate. The disadvantage to keeping her living space within the same confines of the shop were two-fold. The first, lay in the simple fact that running a forge all night meant a toasty sleeping situation through the already impressive heat of the Ul'dah day. The second, was that when an overly enthusiastic customer decided to come calling while you were out they were able to access both bed and breakfast.

Considering that was not the charming little business the inventor was in, she did not find the unannounced visitors welcome.

"Alright, Qata, I can smell you over there! I know you did not climb down the chimney again, the smell of burning skin and hair is lacking!"

With the sound of ruffling furs, the intruder rose up lazily in bed. Arms stretched up as she let out a prolonged groan, ending in a sharp squeak, when the fog was fully worked out of their groggy mind. Or at least as much fog as could be expected from the particularly cloudy mental state of the Ooja.

"You had best not have worked any of those mixtures into the sheets! I told you there would be no more purification vessels if you gave me so much as a ticklish nose!"

Squinting across the room toward Fen, the poisoner flattened their ears, "But I need them! Desperately! If I cannot purify my mixtures then how can I know whether the resultant experimentation is tainted by those impurities?!" There was a brief pause, before she hesitantly added with the most innocent look she could work into those practically glowing violet eyes, "But yes, I neither painted my nails nor my lips. Not even a touch to the fangs! No dust gently folded into my clothing! I feel naked, Fen! Positively naked!"

"Well." The taller, red-haired miqo'te gave a dismissive wave of one hand as she moved to drop that tomestone on her desk until later, "As long as you are not literally naked."

"Why would I be naked?"

"To seduce me, of course! Bend me to your wiles to get me working on your commissions!"

The younger Keeper's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "I can speak just as well with or without clothing. There is nothing more seductive than the allure of exploration, no more intimate act than communion with our art. Except perhaps eating. I have heard that chewing has some sort of deeper meaning. Or maybe that was smoking. It was something to do with mouths. I was not paying much attention to the man who was saying it. They may have had some physical infirmity, there eyebrows kept wiggling at me uncontrollably. Muscle spasms, perhaps?" Something in Fen's words finally dawned on her, as she let out a scandalized, "You have not begun working on my commission?!"

After a tentative sniff to ensure there really was nothing lingering about the room, the Lohro came nearer to pat the back of Qata's hand. If she began to swell up or foam at the mouth it would be the little liar's hide.

"A joke, my dear swamp sister!" It felt odd calling an Ooja sister, but thus far their working relationship had been surprisingly pleasant. "Its begun. Come, we have much to discuss on the next steps in the development."

"Excellent! I can bring samples to test the apparatus!"

That earned the green-haired woman a sharp look. "Not on your life. After your displeasure at the threat of contamination you would introduce the possibility of it to my workshop?"

"Oh. Yes, that would be rude."

"Yes, Qata. Yes, it would."

Fen was entirely certain that it was an inevitability. But perhaps strenuous and repeated efforts to emphasize the importance of not being poisoned would serve to actually avoid the situation entirely. After all, a Lohro and an Ooja occupying the same space without bloodshed was a miracle in itself.

[sliptohk]

Prompt #4: Unhinged

((Guest prompt by @chocolatebunnycake !))

"This was your solution?"

"Simple problem, simple solution!"

"Which part of my request to resolve the many robberies of my store gave you reason to think this would fix that?"

"I installed a plethora of traps! No intruder could go more than a step without triggering some sort of painful jolt or iron-clad cage!"

"But... why did you remove the door?"

"Replacing doors is woefully expensive. And time-consuming! If they plan to break down the door then simply let them stroll in without that added cost. Do you have any idea how many I have seen need to repair myself since opening my shop? It all adds up!"

"I wouldn't dare to even guess."

"In either case, if there is no door to batter down then the thieves will simply wander in, traipsing about on my cunningly hidden works."

"But the door is gone! How would I keep my normal customers from coming in after hours?” Squeezing the palms of both hands to his eyes, the Lalafel shook his head, “Why do I even entertain this line of discussion? Please, Fen, return the door to its rightful spot."

Blowing out a rough breath, the red-haired Keeper threw up both hands, “That is precisely what they want you to do! This is why your store keeps getting robbed, Chehafa!"

[sliptohk]

Prompt #11: Sapid

((Thanks to @idanwyn-et-al for this extra credit suggestion!))

There were times that Fen cursed the sensitivity of her nose, the vast majority of them not having arisen until she opened her shop within Ul'dah and was subject to the overwhelming mix carried by the masses moving about the city. Even with her nocturnal schedule there always seemed to be somebody about. Though the later it got, the more drunken those travelers tended to be. Though in the early morning, when most were just starting to prepare for evening, she found it far easier to skip the lengthy lines outside of her favorite shops, or food stands.

It was well worth the discomfort some particularly ill-thought blends caused.

With a fresh trip complete, she carried several boxes of still warm pastries back to the forge with her. Locks were set and traps armed though after the first two would-be thieves no more had gathered the courage to test her defenses again.

"Ah, that aroma!"

Such simple packaging could hardly mask the scent, so after neatly stacking the rest of her fresh trove upon the desk she plucked out three to tear into. Some had warned her about eating too near to bedtime, but thus far the brawny engineer had never had any particularly trying experiences after indulging. With flaky, browned pastry in hand and a variety of sweet jellies crowning the first two, she was focused on indulging in earnest. And with each one larger than the palm of her hand there was a good deal of it to enjoy.

"I have waited far too long to spend time with you, sweet ones!"

There was little need to dissect the food, quite capable of identifying the ingredients through scent alone, but it was a habit she had long possessed. Tearing little bits of crust off to pop in her mouth or other parts with the fruit topping. Enjoying a taste of each component of that treat before taking bits comprising all of them. This first was made with a browned butter and hint of almond to the dough. The topping made of rolanberry reduced into a thicker, sticky consistency with a touch of lemon and a good deal of sugar. Second at hand was quite similar, though without that faint nuttiness of browned butter that immediately leapt out to the Keeper's tongue. Lemon custard replacing the fruit from the previous to leave a far more tart flavor lingering in the mouth.

As all Lohro, Fen had a weakness for all things sweet with their homeland bearing precious few fruits to sate that craving. And as such, her final choice was by far the most decadent. A fat cinnamon roll, though lacking the glaze other patisseries tended to favor. No, this one was thickly frosted on top with a dense cinnamon coating. Slivered nuts sprinkled over top. It was considerably harder for her to pick it apart, but it elicited no complaints as she wolfed down the final one she had portioned out for herself that evening. Those waiting boxes called to her, but the smith possessed will enough to resist their call for a good day's sleep.

Especially when that smell so close would ensure only the sweetest of dreams.

[sliptohk]

Prompt #3: Muster

No huntress would ever mistake the twang of string as a shot released, though the sudden scream of pain that came right on its heels had Fen moving before a thought could form. The chitter and croak of the night quieted in response to the bounding miqo'te as she raced along those treetop paths the Lohro had marked out branch by branch, dexterous feet nearly silent even as the slap and rustle of leaves announced her movements through the darkness.

The source was easy enough to spot, Ahchaka pushing herself back against the trunk of a tree as tightly as she could manage upon one of its gnarled limbs, the scent of blood in the air from the arrow buried in her hip and the fluttering light from a torch held aloft by a leering pair below. A fresh twang followed by a loud thunk as a second arrow buried itself deeply into the bottom of the branch her sister was using for cover. An unwelcome thought wriggled into her mind even as that continued torment of the Keeper's kin sent her into action.

"Take a peek, kitten! Got somefin' ta show ye!"

Quivermen?

Unlikely, but even as her mind was taking in the appearance of the two, Fen had leapt from her perch with feet extended. Neither the hyur holding the torch, nor their elezen friend, seemed to hear the snapping of twigs as they tore into grey skin with her passing. They did seem to hear the audible crash of the tall miqo'te dropping the entirety of her weight on the elezen's upper back, riding him facefirst into the rocky earth. Her ambush had the desired result as the man holding that torch hesitated just long enough for the huntress to lunge forward off his dazed companion with a fist swinging even as her body lowered. Though certainly no warrior, the miqo'te's grandmother had ensured that all her grandchildren knew how to fight.

Albeit not in the honorable way of knights.

A heavy thud sounded as her balled fist slammed directly up into the hyur's groin, doubling him over with a gasped breath in a perfectly welcome way for the incensed older sister to snatch the front of his tunic. That fist turned into a grasping hand as she made no effort to keep her sharp claws from digging into the squishy handhold she grabbed between his legs, bodily lifting him to slam headfirst against an obstinate oak tree. Despite adrenaline urging her to action rather than thought, the sudden consideration that revealing herself was unwise forced itself to the forefront of her mind. Snatching the fallen torch, she hurled it out to hiss and bubble in the murky waters further out even as the two battered unknowns groaned and stirred. Slipping into their tongue, Fen spared a quick glance up toward the shape huddled against the tree.

<Are there more?>

The response was short, the hisses in their dialect coming tinged with pain, <West.>

Drawing her hunting knife, the Keeper sliced through the strings of those intruders' bows before stealing the arrows from their quivers without a glance. Scrambling quickly back up the tree, she swung herself onto the limb Ahchaka waited on, eyes fixed on the arrow sticking from her younger sister's side even as the argument she knew would happen had begun.

<Leave it.>

<Need to snap it shorter. Do you want it to hit every branch and tear your insides?>

An angry rumble began in the back of the wounded miqo'te's throat, promptly ignored as Fen gripped the shaft between calloused hands and quickly gave it a rough jerk before her sibling could interfere. Though she kept it as steady as possible, there was no escaping the swallowed squeal of discomfort as it shifted the arrowhead with the snap of breaking wood.

<Calm. Calm.>

Slipping free her bow and quiver, Fen hooked them across her kin's back before turning to bodily lift her blessedly smaller sister up onto her. Feet shifting awkwardly as she adjusted herself and quickly tied Ahchaka's knees high around her waist with a length of rope, even as a fresh sound of pained complaint answered that unwelcome movement of her leg. As if matters were not complicated enough, the shuffle and cursing of the downed trespassers rose from beneath them.

<This will be unpleasant for us both, sister.>

Spittle struck the back of her neck as the sour response hissing forth, <I can just imagine how painful this is for you!>

Pulling Ahchaka's hood lower to shield them from scratching branches, Fen shifted about to get a good feel for the weight of the piggybacking wounded. Not for too long, of course, as those rough voices began again and she sprang back along the path she had taken in the first place.

"Where... m'bleedin' jubblies... where th' swivin' 'ells did that couerl get off ta?!"

"Ain't seein' nothin'! Light yer torch, mate! Th' boss ain't said nothin' 'bout this bein' Keeper lands!"

A detail filed away for later as there was no silence to Fen's movement. Her first leap drawing a warning creak from the nearest branch that swiftly drew attention from below, though the huntress had no intention of staying long enough to find out just what they spoke of. Powerful muscles strained with each movement, adrenaline running through her veins as she moved with only her steady breathing and the occasional whimper or whine from behind her. It was best not to consider that they had malms to go through the winding marks in the canopy, particularly since her legs were swiftly burning from the extra effort.

Huffing to herself, Fen began to sing lowly, just a simple tune Ze had written for them seasons past, once she deemed enough space had opened between them and potential pursuit. Intentionally taking routes across the waters to leave that fumbling pair lost in the darkness of the swamp, unless they were lucky enough to have packed additional torches.

<Dance beneath my light, o daughters, course within my shade. Though my face may dim and darken, my love shall never fade.

Wander in my name, o sons, that long and lonesome road. Ever 'neath my adoring gaze, you never walk alone.

Sing for me, my blessed children, mother hears your call. Live for thee, beloved, my chosen, with arms entwined stand tall.

Mourn with me those you have lost, but fear not your hunt's end. Know that those who once you loved, shall embrace you once again.>

<Why are you singing about death?!>

An angry chirp echoed in her ear, before Ahchaka had the audacity to bite it! Flicking her poor ear away from a second nip, the elder sister let out a grunt. Or at least as much of one as she would spare given the desparate need for more air in her lungs.

<Its not about death! Its about life!>

<It ends in death.>

<So does life!>

<Ze sang it better too.>

<Then you sing it!>

There was a brief pause, before blessedly Ahchaka began to sing something of her own. Arguments and song providing a welcome distraction from the physical discomfort the two struggled on through.

<The bandit swore, 'this is my land', and shook his iron hand. Horned children cried, 'this shall not stand', and chased with burning brand.

But in her tree, the Lohro smirked, and drew bow until it creaked. It struck true and each one jerked, as it sank into rear cheeks!>

A breathy laugh escaped the huntress, pausing longer between each jump to marshal strength in her shuddering legs, <So you complain about my song, then sing about filling people with arrows?>

A faint snort answered, <Its fine if its people that are not me.>

The two continued back and forth as they always had, complaining about the others singing voice or choice in song. Corrected lyrics and the occasional personal jab to help them ignore the fact that Fen could feel her sister's blood running down her arm and Ahchaka felt sweat soaking through the back of her kin's back as each leap had her shivering and gasping for more breath before she sang and jumped forward once more. It was with great relief that they finally reached the final destination. Legs turned to jelly as they loudly scuffed and climbed until a plank came into reach at last. Digging in her fingers, Fen dragged herself up high enough to crawl onto solid ground.

Singing back and forth poorer than ever until their family scented blood on the air and came running to carry them to the sleeping hut.

<My songs were better.>

<Not when you sing them.>

[sliptohk]

Prompt #8: Clamor

Biting back a yawn, Fen dropped her hammer down to the bench with a thud and dragged herself over to the deep barrel of water beside her forge. Without hesitation, she dunked her head in, letting herself soak for as long as her breath held before ripping back out with a spray behind her as long braids swung with that clatter of bone charms against each other. The heavy leather apron came free first to thump against the floor, before she began to draw off her sweat stained garments from the long night of work past. Tendrils of dawn beginning to peak beneath the doorframe, despite her efforts to blacken out all the windows in the little shop.

"Azeyma's burning tits, why can it not just rain here through the daylight hours..."

Calloused fingers snatched up a bucket to fill and upend over herself, not stopping until her grey skin ran clean of sweat and grime beneath the sensitive sniffs she took of herself. It would have nice if that bare wetness had sent a shiver through her, but the sunkissed city so rarely was cool enough to even tickle her skin much less cover it with goosebumps. Whipping up the top layer of furs she had bundled together as bedding, she nestled in with that comforting sensation of ice shards sandwiched between the layers. If this city would not have the good decency to be cool enough for her liking, then she would ensure her bed did at least!

Scarce moments had passed after her eyes had closed before the sounds of a waking city began to filter through the door. Street hawkers shouting out their wares, whatsoever they might be, and the rising sound of arguments as unfriendly neighbors down Pearl Lane awoke to find they were still unfriendly neighbors in the morning. Pulling down harder and harder on her precious coverings until she feared they might tear, Fen rumbled a low, angry sound from the depths of her chest.

"Why can't you all keep normal hours like good folks!"

[sliptohk]

Prompt# 21: Foibles

"Stop it."

Fen looked up from her meal, fingers having already torn the dumpling apart to better investigate the sights and smells of what was hidden within the dough. She lofted an eyebrow, a better means of conveying that quizzical expression with dark lenses covering the question in her eyes.

"What are you telling me to stop?" She popped one half of the eviscerated bundle into her mouth to chew on.

The hyur gave an encompassing wave of her hand toward the plate set out in front of the Keeper. She had already made something of a mess of it, tearing apart each bit of food on it to savor the individual components, before recombining them once again to test with a single bite. Nothing all that extra-ordinary as far as she was aware.

"Eating like a wild beast! You have silverware, there's no need to run your hands over everything you intend to consume like some mannerless wildling! Just enjoy the meal as the chef intended, not torn apart like jackals about a fresh carcass!"

It was miserably hot, but the fan this strange woman fluttered back and forth before her face as she spoke was not likely to do much to relieve it. The huntress just gave a lazy shrug of her shoulders before spearing one intact dumpling with the end of a thick, razor-sharp nail, sticking it into her mouth whole as the juice leaked down her finger.

"Nonsense, keep your little trinkets. I fully intend to enjoy these strange things in part and total!"

Lifting a slice of chocolate torte in hand, Fen crammed it fully into her mouth to chew on slowly. Pointedly ignoring the words of whatever self appointed manners enforcer had been seated next to her. It would prove to be a long meal for them, as the Keeper's prodigious appetite for new foods, and abundant sweets, saw her massacre every other plate laid before her despite the indignant huffs and disdained sniffs coming from the other table.

[sliptohk]

Prompt# 20: BANTER

(Thanks to @whitherwanderer for today’s prompt!)

"Did you fall into the bog, Ghemala? You reek of it!"

"Only the one time!"

"Its clear by sight, if not scent. Mud-caked is not her usual choice of fashion. You ought to have seen this without needing to ask, Kichi."

"That aside, you are the one that prefers swimming in the shallows. Goddess knows the leeches seem to treat you as kin by now rather than merely acquaintances."

"What can I say? Be it leech or spoken I am a very charming sort!"

"She says mere moments after pointing out the stink of her sister."

"But I did it with such an endearing wink and wiggle of my eyebrows!"

"She did wink at me!"

"Total loss of facial control may not be the virtue you think it is, sister."

"You do it all the time, Fen!"

"Slander, I articulate carefully with my expressions!"

"Hm. Only for a mudslide of words to spray from your mouth."

"Mudslides don't spray, Ahchaka."

"There must be some degree of spraying that comes of the whole affair. The earth is sodden, after all."

"All I know is there must be a better word for it. Flows?"

"No. That would make it sound faintly praiseworthy. Its just loud and irritating. It does not flow across my ears, it batters and bounces like... the boulders in the mudslide."

"You just dislike that grandmother listened to my plan instead of yours."

"It was no plan! You just suggested doing nothing!"

"Doing nothing is still a plan, its just not one that requires a great deal of action."

"I would have peppered them with arrows and sent them on their way. Khenma agreed with me."

"I did not."

"Why are we even discussing this again? All I did was mention Ghemala's smell!"

"Just a little verbal side path! Look, it even got Khenma to lend her thoughts!"

"It did not."

"Your words, then. We can build our way up to your words!"

"Here comes another mudslide."

"Oh? I heard nothing, where is it?"

"... not an actual one, Ghemala."

"In that case I think I want to take another swim! Care to join me Kichi?"

"Swim? I thought you said you fell."

"Just the one time! Which was not this time."

"And I shall see my beloved little sister does not jump on you for that. Come on, little Chaky!"

"I hate that nickname! Now let me go!"

Mehhzi heard as the sisters bickered, hardly taking the spare moment to look up from the arrow heads she ground from rock and bone. At the very least it provided her a distracting background of sound to work to as the aged huntress continued that comfortable routine she had learned so long ago.