She stands at the edge of a bridge, in the middle of a great wasteland.
She knows that this was once Kugane. A place of great commerce, beauty...and Aurya, the snow-furred hrothgar she befriended a lifetime ago. Her best friend, even.
This was once a home for her.
But it is no more. The dream reveals that the Garleans invaded, laying waste to everything their forces touched. Minti's strength was not there to stop them.
All around her is mist, and the desolation of nature, and silence.
Perfect, beautiful, silence.
Not even Suzaku's songs reach her ears.
She wishes to go home. Exile was a mistake. She can do better this time. She will make everything right, promise. No more running away from her responsibilities. No more. She will do better.
There is no home for her, not here, nor in what's left of the world around her.
How is she to go home, where there is nothing to return to?
In her dreams, Minti is brought to a bridge. She knows it is Ishgard, but not-Ishgard.
A knight stands in her way.
"I shall not let you pass." The knight speaks softly, yet with the force of a winter's gale. "You cannot strike me where I will fall, yet I cannot bring myself to strike you down. We are at stalemate."
Minti knows the knight's name, yet cannot speak it. Every time she tries, the shadows from within her armor, her greatsword, reach for her throat. To utter words is to feel gangly fingers scrape her skin, forcing her jaw open, seeking passage into the deepest parts of her flesh...
Something tells her that she must cross the bridge to reach her friends, her family, to Suzaku. She must. Eorzea needs her strength.
How is she to move forward? How long must she stand here, waiting for an opening from the knight?
Of course you won out against your Shadow - that deep dark monster that dug its way out of your heart and into your love's.
The way you told your stories, it would seem as if you always found a way forward and through a trial, even if it frustrated you. There was always a friend to lend a hand, or someone to give you exactly the right aid at exactly the right time. Things worked out for you. No-one got hurt, all nets were mended, and the wicked kami got what they deserved. Everything was fine. All was as it should be.
Consider something, Minti, for a moment. How do you think this story ended for me? How do you think I felt seeing you emerge from that bloated corpse of a wolf-woman, staggering away from me as if I were plagued? You did not even so much as turn your head to say...well, anything.
I imagine what your robes looked like that day, in these quiet moments since your wanderings began. I think, too, about that simple blade and sheathe at your side. I can perfectly imagine that helm pressed tightly against your head - how it was in the perfect shape of a wolf's skull, with three glowing orbs where your forehead would be.
I wonder if that witch left that helm as a final insult to you, and to me, from wherever her spirit journeyed to. You did not speak a word; instead, you walked slowly away, as if you were lost in your dreams. You muttered over and over about a choir - that you wished that they would finally be silent.
Perhaps they did as you bid them to, wherever you overcame your madness. Farther afield than I'm accustomed to, dear Minti.
I hope to see you again, one day. One precious day, my love.
Until then... I shall be by the shores we called ours, playing my flute and my pipe to guide you home. 'Tis the least I can do, I think.
---
Stay with me at the shrine. You will want for nothing. I will endeavor to make every day better than the last and surround you with only the sweetest songs. You may help guard the shrine if that would sway your heart, even a little.
Don’t you love me, Minti? Don’t you love me enough to come away?
Put those voices out of your mind. They don’t love you as much as I.
---
Come away with me, Minti. Come away.
I still love you, Tenzen. Fall into my wings' embrace, and be with the one who loved you before all others. You will never be alone again, my dearest mortal.
In the deepest parts of her mind, away from the Choir and the freezing darkness engulfing her soul, Minti creates.
With a glowing orange brush and full painter's palette, she wills fields of flowers into existence. Bright pinks, passionate purples, regal whites- all flowers from Eorzea and beyond spring up and bow to her, as they should. Their petals wave back and forth, the wind carrying their words of thanks for giving them life.
Raising her brush to the sky, Minti calls down water. A downpour of rain falls from darkened cloudy skies, filling her creations with life.
Thank you, the plants whisper. Again they whisper in gratitude: Thank you.
Bright as a lantern, Minti's brush shines. It knows what its purpose is, even if the painter does not.
A heavenly feminine voice, blessed by the midnight sun, carries across the field, reaching Minti's ears and sharing the words she needs to hear right now:
You have a voice.
It is your voice.
Pray let it speak, even if it is without words. Let it speak however it wishes, even if it is not as beautiful as one might wish it to be.
There are nights, my love, when you ask me to help you fall asleep. I oblige, as I oft do. It is my pleasure to keep watch for you, to sing and play you off to the land of dreams.
You will forgive me, I hope, for tending to your hair while you rest. I know not how you keep it silky soft - perhaps you'll teach me one day. It is hard to tell you how your beautiful your hair is, when it drapes itself across the pillows of our bed. How it feels flowing between my fingers, as I work through each and every knot and curl. It's hard work, tending to your hair, keeping it this straight, but I don't mind. Acts of love, when done right, should not feel like labor.
I worry, though, that you keep too tight a grip on that crystal of yours. No light can breach it, yet it pulses with light just the same. It should not make a sound, yet it whispers to you, and you to it. Your body shivers, even when I am at your side, keeping you warm.
Who is "Fray"? What is the mist? Why are you told to go to lands that I cannot reach?
Why do you weep, Minti?
"Serve…Save…Slave…Slay…"
I fear, my love, that there is a confrontation that I am not privvy to, that whatever speaks to you is calling forth your aramitama. You shall fall to madness, and I will lose you forever.
Who will save you should you succumb to your aramitama? How can you save yourself?
If I let the story play out- if I let the song come to an end, if the last notes leave my flute-
You will be lost to me.
I cannot let that happen. I must not. I will not.
Stay with me, Tenzen. Please, I beg of you. Let us not fight as we once did.
"…Dream sweet dreams of Suzaku and Minti, and what it meant when they first met and she challenged her. And extrapolate." - @driftward, Discord, 2022.
Recommended reading: FFXIV Write, Day 1: Cross
Change, even done with the best of intentions, can be hard to accept.
New relationships are especially so; yet, there's often a swirl of fresh, youthful energy coming from one partner or the other. It comes out in the picking of new clothes to wear for one's partner, permitting the smell of coffee being brewed to reach the nostrils of the sleepyhead refusing to get out of bed. Saying a "Good morning" with intention, with hope.
Good morning. I love you. I hope you don't forget that. I made you breakfast.
Good morning. I love you too. Thank you, dear.
For Minti Chocolate, change was accepting that a bird of legends far to the East- a lovestruck bird of legend, mind - thought her home to be prime nesting grounds. It was putting aside gil for dango (lots of it), setting up a changing screen to keep curious beaks from peeking, falling asleep to the touch of warm feathers and gentle flute music. Trying in vain to put limits on visits, to preserve what privacy and alone time she needed.
You can stay for tonight, but that is all.
Okay, tonight and tomorrow morning.
This week. That is really it. You don't think Soroban will miss you? What about Seiryu or Byakko?
It had all passed rather quickly, hadn't it, the past few days. Or, was it a week that'd passed, or two weeks? There was the night when Suzaku first visited, of course. The morning after, when Minti whispered things some small part of her wished could be taken back. Then…
Everything could go away in an instant. This, this thing, whatever she had with the auspice, it couldn't last forever. She was already losing memories of Aurya's mischievous smile, Heimar's warm breath, and, most tragically, Haurchefaunt's reassuring voice. Sweet, loyal Haurchefaunt, a knight and a gentleman to the very last. Viera lived for a long time, after all, but auspices lived longer. Neither could be expected to remember everyone.
Will I lose her song? Minti closed her eyes to try and capture everything she could of last night: Suzaku tapping away at her dango, the way the wind tossed her feathers, her songs...her many songs...
If this wasn't love, what was it? What was so hard to accept?
The cold, yet motherly voice of Fray, the spirit inside Minti's dark knight crystal, whispered into one of the girl's long lapine ears. To hear Fray was to hear a blast of cold air rush past your ear, to feel bumps and see the hairs on your arms standing up on end.
<Fray> Harboring doubts, I sense. How holds your resolve, daughter mine? Will you let me step in?
At this moment, it was some time in the afternoon, and Suzaku was off doing…whatever things an auspice did during the day. Flying nearby, Minti imagined, or looking for mischief in Ul'dah proper. As for herself, the viera was outside of her wooded residence, in the tent she used to remind herself of home. The late afternoon heat dug into her, pushing past the plates of her armor and leaving her unsettled.
Fray was not physically with her, not as she could be. The cold? A trick of the mind. A shame it could never be real, it would be a balm against the desert heat. And yet-
<Fray> Haurchefaunt comes to mind, I see. You could not save him from his fate. Heimar, that boy you fancied in your youth - where is he? You haven't the faintest idea, have you, not since you fled Ivalice. And Aurya, that girl you found in Kugane. I wonder what happened to her. Surely, you wonder the same? Were all those days spent being her "friend" and getting into trouble worth it?
Real or not, the cold was enough to rattle Minti's shoulders. She said nothing.
<Fray> If you will entertain a thought of mine: What have you to lose by trying? Are you so far gone that you would refuse her?
Again, Minti was silent. One could barely tell from her face what she was thinking, if anything at all.
<Fray> Say the word, and I cut her loose. You'll not hear more of her songs come morning, Minuet. I require nothing from you but your consent.
Minti could feel the cold wrap around her waist, as her Lady would do if the girl ever felt anxious or worried. A hug, of sorts.
<Fray> Not even a word, daughter mine. A thought. A flicker 'cross your face. I know you well enough to divine how you feel. I saved you once, twice even. Let me take you away, where you will be safe - with me.
Just as tears began to slide down Minti's still face, something unexpected, slightly sharp, pressed into the viera's left shoulder. Four somethings. Not intending to harm, but to rouse, if her weary mind interpreted that rightly.
"Hello, my love." A voice, barely a whisper, feminine, sweet like honey, with a faint Hingan accent. Warm fingers with manicured nails at the tips, placed gently under Minti's eyes, dabbing away at those tears. "Are you well? Does something trouble you?" Curiosity tinged with a desire to care, even if it wasn't entirely genuine. A pause. "Ah, perhaps you desire my songs, is that it? Something from home?"
Their lips were as soft as the petals that fell from the trees in Hingashi in spring. Their touch, like hot stones placed upon one's back. Their voice gently sung of the waters of the Ruby Sea, how they lapped up against the shore at night. Gems of pure light glittered under the glow of the midnight moon.
"We should go inside, I think. It is time I took care of you, in a place no one will dare find us." Minti could feel Suzaku's hands reaching around her armor, gently, ever so gently, bringing her into the tent. She could hear the flaps closing, string being wound to keep the coming rain outside, where it should be.
