#obeisant

[fair-fae]

Entry #17: Obeisant

FFxivWrite2019 Prompt #17: Obeisant “Good girl.” How she longed to hear those words, like music to her ears, the favorite two syllables she could ever hear her Master speak. Shadiyah was a creature of disobedience, or so she liked to be believe. To be unpleasant, to be unpredictable, to never do what was desired of her, it meant never being hurt, never being used, and that was all life had become, if one could call such an existence a “life.” And yet, for a moment to be wanted, to be needed, to have a purpose, to be useful, to be good, especially for him? To earn his praise, to please him? She would do anything her Master asked of her, like a good girl. @shadiyah-ffxiv @of-darkness-and-dreams

[hithren]

Prompt 17: Obeisant

Character: Ishiko Miyamoto Location: Miyamoto Manor, Kugane Tags: Mention of @ffxivaltstars _____________________________________

To see them beg gave her pleasure. To see them upon the ground before her felt like nothing else.

Ishiko was a simple woman, of simple tastes, she would say. She simply liked to be adored. To be worshiped. It was what she deserved after all.

Some brought her gifts. Some gifted her with flattering words of praise. Some offered servitude. Some wanted nothing else.

But he never had taken to knee for her. Not once. 

A man that certainly should, a savage from across the sea. A man like that should have had his head upon the ground the moment he laid eyes on someone like her.

Valoq had defied her every request. Had challenged her when all those before never dared. The man was near as prideful as she. He held power as she did, but not power of coin and name.

Her family did not know he had made no oath, had sworn to her nothing. She had taken him into employ without need of his obeisance.

Ishiko took pleasure in being revered. The mistress of the Miyamoto house. 

Valoq walked at her side, not at her back. He met her eyes instead of dropping them when she entered rooms. He shared her bed and did not yield.

They were not equals, by far. And yet they pushed and pulled. Each seeing what the other would submit to the other.

In due time he would come under her heel like the rest. They always did.

She could have a bit of fun until then.

[theshroudwolf]

Prompt #22 - Obeisant

Sunday make up day for Prompt 17

(More WoL AU for Chris Kahel, extremely non-canon)

The final battle for Ala Mhigo and its freedom was closing. The Primal formed dragon of Nidhogg's eyes was vanquished and Zenos fell from his grace with a thud unto the flowers below. Bloody from their encounter, both men nursing wounds few could still stand from. With a grasp of his katana, the Garlean Crown Prince stood and looked at what he would call a disappointment come moons prior, he now stood and looked on in high regard for the man who was able to best him when no others could. Not even in control of the fearsome Shinryu.

The speech Zenos gave nearly fell on deaf ears, as years of oppression, anger and hatred towards the Crown Prince and all he stood for was a single axe swing away from being avenged. But as the katana was put to his own neck, the Ala Mhigan snapped back to reality and in words of oddly gained praise, Chris watched Zenos take his own life and fall to the ground. Still clenching his axe, adrenaline flowing through he watched his foe succumb.

Unsatisfied with the ending, but glad to know his city, his home was finally on a path to freedom.

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

[eorzean-wayfinder]

FFXIVWrite2019 - Prompt #17 - Obeisant

“Takatori,” a voice called out behind him at the enclave. “You are still here, I would have thought you had gone home to your family?” 

Kuroji turned to see who had spoken to him and immediately fell to his knees seeing Lord Hien there. “No my lord, my cousins were only going to the Steppe.” He said with his head bowed in obeisance. 

“And you did not join them?” Hien asked crossing his arms and looking thoughtfully away. “I greatly enjoyed my time there and it’s people.I have never asked regarding your tribe when you came to us, but now I find my curiosity overwhelming. Will you walk with me and tell me about them?” 

“Of course my lord,” Kuroji bowed lower and only stood once Hien had taken a few steps where he joined him just behind, keeping his eyes downward, felt unnatural to Kuroji, but at the same time it let him focus on his lord. 

“My tribe was called the Shonkhor. They were one of the peaceful tribes in that we didn’t war on the others unless we had to. The tribe was best known for hunting with eagles.” Kuroji told him on the tribe, and how it would travel, and occasionally spend time with one of the Angura tribes in the winter, and finally he told them of their demise. “And that, my lord, is how I came to be in your service.”   

Hien nodded thoughtfully, but stayed quiet during Kuroji’s explanation. “And that bird,” He said looking up and scanning the sky for Kuroji’s eagle that was always with him, smiling once he spotted it circling them. “Is why I gave you the name I did. I am surprised though, your people are a proud one, why would you let me change your name and call you as such?” he asked looking Kuroji in the eyes. 

“Because it is the name my lord willed me to have,” He said, his tone offering no other solution. “You and your people took me in, gave me a new reason to live. I did not have a tribe anymore.” 

Hien tilted his head curiously at him. “Not even if you meet someone to start a family with?” 

The obeisance in Kuroji faded as he raised an eyebrow at Hien. “I can assure you my lord, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that will never happen.”

[lettersnorth]

Prompt #17: Obeisant

Part of the 30 Day writing challenge hosted by @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

Given the trajectory of her life, a person would be forgiven for assuming Aislinn held no faith in the Twelve. And that person would be mostly correct. Except for Nymeia. Certainly, the Weaver had been the patron deity of Ala Mhigo for a time and yes, Aislinn had been raised to give the goddess her reverence. 

But the older she got, the more the Weaver made sense to her. The world was an unpredictable place and there was little in life a person had control over. At the very least the Weaver was the only one of the Twelve who made no qualms about how fickle and indifferent She could be. Aislinn respected that kind of blunt honesty.

She never promised to comfort you when times were tough. She never promised an end to struggle and strife or that a person’s life would be sunshine and ease. She never even promised that a person’s life would amount to much at all. But it would matter. The fact that a person had come into the world was proof that She would thread them into Her great tapestry. And maybe they wouldn’t be the shining gold thread, maybe they were the beige that set off the gold. Every thread mattered. 

And sure, the thread of Aislinn’s life so far wasn’t exactly golden but truth be told, just because a person doesn’t like the thread She’s spun doesn’t change anything. At the end of the day, a person is one thread in a much larger tapestry. Who are you, that little thread, to say from where you are that the tapestry doesn’t make sense? You’re a slip of color. Green, beige, red, gold, it doesn’t matter, no one knows what the entire piece will look like when She’s finished. Aislinn didn’t see much sense in a person complaining about their lot in it either. The Weaver doesn’t pay any mind to a single thread at the expense of all the others. 

So what did Aislinn’s obeisance to such a deity look like? She could tell you what it wasn’t. It wasn’t gathering together with other followers in a soaring sanctuary of artfully carved stone or wood and stunning stained glass. A structure that likely cost an eye-watering amount of gil to construct but somehow still had stiff, uncomfortable pews. All so one could come, be seen, murmur some prayers, listen to a clergyman intone a few platitudes and then get back to the important business of stepping on the necks of their fellow man. 

No, Aislinn’s reverence was to be found in playing a round of triple triad. It was knowing she could have done all she could and still fail. It was understanding the fruitlessness in complaining. It was putting her boots on every morning and getting on with it. Take every chance, play every hand, roll every die, pick herself up after every failure and take care not to get too cocky with every success. And never give in. Because the Weaver demanded no less. Because the fact that she was breathing meant there was still more left for her to do. 

[safestsephiroth]

FFXIVWrite #17 - Obeisant - Lacina Lune

Strings hummed through the concert hall, a rich tone that pleased the ears of the audience - and captivated one Viera seated to the side. To be too visible, to sit too close to the front - much as she wanted to - she couldn't afford to pay that sort of price, and couldn't afford to be remembered any more than necessary.

But as she sat, wide-eyed, staring at the stage, Lacina Lune realized: she had to do something. She had to show respect to this virtuoso. The skill, the finesse with which the player's hands moved the bow - it was as if she was bewitched.

At the conclusion of the concert, she stood. Blinked. Caught a glimpse of the violinist, herself - a short Elezen woman with dark hair? Or perhaps a tall, thin Hyuran woman? Lacina hunted down the violinist, listening from a distance.

The woman came off as rather bored. A musician of her calibre, bored? After a show for that many? After a performance that grand? Should she not be more excited?

Lacina waited. Still as a mannequin, near the exit. Until, finally, the musicians trickled out. She spotted the woman - her hands - definitely the same one. Definitely an elezen. "Hello." Voice even-toned.

The woman looked to her. Brows raised. "Uh. Hello?"

"You performed perfectly. I wish to give proper obeisance for your performance." Several seconds of unbroken silence. "Obeisance means-"

"I am aware of what it means. But it's unnecessary. You can leave, now, lady."

"Oh." Lacina's hands raised from her sides, and folded together before her in perfect unison. "I understand. There is a custom of denying gifts at the first-"

The violinist hurried off. Lacina turned her head. Watched in silence, until she had disappeared around a corner. Lacina looked straight ahead, eyes blank.

Do musicians not enjoy gifts? Perhaps this is part of the trade she had not read about yet. She would need more material to study.

[englishlistwords]

Obeisant

a.1. Ready to obey; reverent; deferential; also, servilely submissive.

[music4thebasshead]

Obeisant - Bass Drop