10: Avail
ffxiv write day 10
I keep thinking about the night I ran away; something I remember clearly, something that was planned amongst my closest friends Ayame and Kaname, and better yet, my father. My father who was unable to watch my happiness slip away. Happiness that I forced, something artificial that kept me safe and my mother happy. Artificial like the arranged marriage I was in. Looming dread of being locked away from the world forever and enduring a life of despair. It’s been over a year since then, almost two.
I remember that my hands were trembling, and I was restless despite wanting to succumb to exhaustion from the day’s prior activities. I had to pretend to be asleep so no one would expect the wiser, listening and waiting, and fearful that if I nodded off that I would miss the signal to get up and leave into the shrouded midnight. But I was lucky that evening. Lucky enough to be separated from that monster the night before the wedding-- before my birthday-- per traditions that everyone was always obsessed about. My father planned accordingly.
There was the call of a nightingale, twittering and unassuming and blending in with the sound of night. I jolted awake and to my feet, silent and on my toes to the sliding door facing our garden. There was hesitation and I remember looking back over my shoulder, absorbing and trying to remember the shadowed layout of my room, my clothes, all of my belongings and art supplies, and feeling so attached that I almost couldn’t leave. None of it could come with me. I think tears welled up, but I had to go as the nightingale sang again, ilming the door to the side and slipping out, quick to shut it and rushing down the walkway. If I had been more inspired then, I would’ve imagined myself being a shinobi on a top-secret mission.
But I wasn’t. I couldn’t stop shaking and had to clutch the skirt of my kimono, to the meeting point where I could see the silhouette of my father. Pale lilac eyes dim in the night staring, mine matching his. There was a relieved sigh knowing that it truly was him and not a trap, and that it was me and I had followed through.
“This way. Hurry,” he whispered while ushering me to the next stop. But he couldn’t idle for long-- my mother could wake up at any point to find him missing and it would ruin everything. My punishment would be far more severe than ever and who knows what would’ve happened to my father. We only rushed to the outside wall of the estate when he stopped and pulled me into a warm embrace, whispering apologies and telling me that he loved me. I think I choked up when telling him I loved him, too, and saying hushed goodbyes as he hoisted me up and over the wall. I didn’t hear him leave but I know he did.
I felt truly alone in that moment. I had to make my way to the docks to meet Shima which felt like malms away-- but I was lucky, again-- Shima decided to meet me nearby. Just as I descended the steps away from the towering estates, he grabbed me and covered my mouth to stop me from making any sound. He tossed a robe over me and tied my hair back before grabbing my hand and leading me to our destination. The loneliness washed away. I think he was a contact of my father’s, but I didn’t question it. I still don’t.
This was something I had dreamed about for summers on end, devising plans and vacations with my best friends about what we’d do when we got to Eorzea. I never thought the day would come, and now my feet were hurting, bare and scuffing across coarse gravel and cobblestone and wood. Shima had gotten into the boat first when we reached the docks, beckoning me to hurry because I kept looking back towards the fog and at the blurred shadows of the houses and when I didn’t follow, lifted me anyway and started rowing.
I wasn’t with Kaname and Ayame like I anticipated-- they weren’t leaving for another month nor were they barred from leaving their home. It would’ve been far too obvious if we had run away together, and even so, the twins could travel to their vacation homes whenever they asked, as long as the theatre wasn’t booked out. And yet, here I was with a total stranger that called me annoying names that, for whatever reason, was helping me escape. Probably money but money was never an issue.
“Little princess,” Shima grinned to me, “You’ll be too obvious with that hair of yours. Cut it off.” And I tried to protest. He was quick to cut me off. “The person you were before escaping into the night is now dead and you must let go of what you care about to begin anew. Heed my words, or your father’s struggle will be for naught.” The miqo’te held out his hand for me to mimic and when I did, rested a knife into my palm. His grin widened, sharp and threatening. “Cut it off.”
At that time, I had never held a weapon of any calibur. Shards from a broken clay pot were the closest thing in my grasp to be one, if anyone considered such, but I remember being afraid to hold the knife. He motioned for me to follow along, reaching up and grabbing a lock of my silver hair and bringing the knife across, swiftly cutting it. Then reaching over and dropping my hair into the water, as to not leave any evidence behind. It was a messy procedure. Oddly enough, just as I was releasing the final lock of hair, Shima intercepted me and stowed it into the recesses of his haori. He waggled his finger disapprovingly and tsk’d as if I were a small child doing something I wasn’t supposed to.
I would never be the same after that moment.
We reached the ship as dawn crept into the horizon, fog still lingering above the waters and the lights from the ship barely shining through. He must’ve had a contact aboard because the moment we arrived, a rope ladder was tossed aside, and again, I was hoisted up to climb, barely awake from the sleep I never obtained. The bristles of the rope stabbed into my palms and I tried with all my might, Shima still being pushy as he wasn’t far behind. And we were aboard. And I was free.
I was free.
I was free.
I was free.