#meteor khora

[rabbitr]

FFXIVwrite: 26. zip

The thing was, Meteor moved fast. And they favored plate armor and large weapons, their warrior's axe most of all. The blade shone pristine and leaden in their hands, blood in the hilt wrapping. Meteor hefted it like most could a particularly small twig.

Most people picking a fight with them saw the bulky equipment and blocky great-axe and thought slow and heavy.

The Scions didn't often possess a wealth of spare time, but when they did, they liked to spend it on idle curiosity. Today to walk a mile in another's shoes. More accurately, each of them tried desperately to refit their existing skillsets into another mentality.

Alphinaud and Alisaie interchangeably could heal, although Alphinaud seemed to struggle more with raw damage. Urianger could not be trusted to don armor, Thancred made for a particularly poor healer, and Y'shtola could be tasked to heal but not to trade minor injuries for more spells in the heat of battle. G'raha and Meteor watched them all with great amusement.

Both could easily slide into any open role.

But Meteor was blindingly, heart-stoppingly quick without armor. Their speed was nothing to scoff at when they placed themself in the frontline of the Scions, but without the weight, Meteor seemed to step from one side of the battlefield to the other. Pair that speed with raw power and you have the very reason Meteor is seen as unstoppable, Alphinaud had commented.

All training, Meteor had replied, then winced with their full body as Urianger toppled under the weight of their armor.

G'raha watched on with a smile as Meteor picked their axe from where the Scions collectively abandoned it - the weight too great for any of them save for a few clumsy swings by Thancred. He picked up a wayward piece and went with to help Urianger wiggle out of the suit. "Are you alright?" he whispered to Meteor.

They stared at the scuffed metal, running their thumb along a particularly nasty gash. "I'm alright," Meteor signed after kicking an errant piece of armor away. "This is a good opportunity to get new armor."

"Tataru would be most pleased if you consulted for the design," Alphinaud said, popping around to join their semi-circle around the fallen gear.

All in all, Meteor did get new armor. Shiny, sleek, and sable. One of Tataru's masterpieces on the request for an old friend. When Meteor rested their old axe on a shoulder, they cut a far more dangerous figure - portrayed more as the master of all trades that they were.

But in the weeks interrim, the Scions soon learned that not only was Meteor nightmarishly quick, they were quiet to boot. Having to tamp down the clattering of that old plate-mail meant Meteor snuck up on any wayward passerby. They popped up fresh as a daisy in the middle of conversations, in the hallways at night, in the moment a Scion felt safe.

Like a damn cat after the bell, Thancred grouched.

[rabbitr]

FFXIVwrite: 11. surrogate

Meteor sprawled in the grass, gazing overhead at the numerous stars above. Clad in comfortable clothes, they breathed quietly as the nighttime breeze cooled their aching body. They listened to the distant sounds of the Scions chattering over a meal, content.

"There you are, my friend," G'raha said, taking a seat next to Meteor. The Miqo'te exhaled in time with Meteor, tension bleeding from his shoulders. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

They sat in tender silence, Meteor enjoying the constellations and G'raha with his head on his knees, resting.

Then, with all the wisdom of age, G'raha spoke. He said, in the same aching confidence as when he played the Exarch, "When one begins to examine their perception of you, the facade fractures quickly. It leaves me wondering. How much of you did I know, and how much of you did I change in my expectations for you? Even now, you seek the shape of the Warrior of Light that I knew."

Meteor's hands twitched. They raised them to sign, only to place palm over chest. Instead, they took one of G'raha's hands in theirs, a meager comfort.

"I deduced as much," G'raha murmured miserably. He squeezed Meteor's hand tight. "Once I came to the realization, I could not tear my eyes from it. Every time another Scion spoke in place of your voice, choosing words of heroism, unaware that you had not made yourself known."

It wasn't so bad, Meteor wanted to tell him. They didn't care one way or another.

Sitting up, Meteor rested their joined fingers between them. Because it was both and neither. The Scions needed - wanted - a hero, so Meteor became one. G'raha had hoped to save the Warrior of Light, and so Meteor gave him someone to save. Their hand-words didn't have the meaning Meteor wanted to impress into G'raha.

But he searched their face and seemed to find an answer.

"Can I say something unkind?" G'raha whispered.

Meteor nodded.

"I worry for you. I see into you now and I think of all those times that will never be. I diverted one calamity and I will never regret those actions. Terribly I think, if the Scions had not found you first, if Emet-Selch or another had come across you… They would have done what we have, perhaps even further, to twist your silence in their own shape."

The trees rustled, scattering sparse leaves into the wind.

G'raha turned ruby eyes, weary with knowledge, towards the shattering blue of Meteor's. "Was it that your silence was a kindness to us? Or worse, did you tell us in your hand-speak only to find we had all turned away? Did… what I did to you, on the First, was that a cruelty?"

And Meteor said nothing, because they had nothing to say.

[rabbitr]

meteor ffxiv is my scrunkly blorbo now. they are a weird deer to me