A Soldier’s Conscience: The Beginning of the End (Rygdea)
What’s this? A new FFXIII fic post from shadowpyxy...For the first time in forever?!
Yep. Found my writing notes and looked them all over. I’ve got Cid’s in the works as well as plugging away or Rosch’s story. Plus a million and one more. Things are (finally) settling down on my end. No promises on regular updates though. Sorry.
Author’s Note: As always, statements in double quotes are speech, statements in italics are thoughts, and single quotes are special based on their context (onomatopoeia, euphemism, quoting another, etc.). Short and sweet; hey, it’s something, right? Hope you enjoy. Story’s below the cut. Let me know what y’all think. Also on Fanfiction.net and AO3.
Capt. Rygdea: The Beginning of the End
Day 29, 1057 hours, aboard the Lindblum...
Rygdea embarked the 'borrowed' PSICOM craft in the Lindblum's landing bay. He pushed his worries about the l'Cie aside. Time to report in. He strode toward his commanding officer's quarters. Upon his arrival, he passed his hand over the door's alert panel. The panel turned a bright green, and the door opened with a soft 'ding.'
“They're in.” Rygdea entered Cid's quarters with an ease born of familiarity and mutual trust.
“Any problems?” Cid's cool gaze lifted from the datapad he'd been looking at to meet his second-in-command's.
The captain threw himself into a chair facing his CO. “Other than the Welcoming Committee?” His typical smirk turned into a grimace. “No. But something still feels off.” He shook his head, causing his out of regulations ponytail to swing across his back. “Who am I kidding? Farron will get 'em through.”
Raines' lips quirked. “What about Snow and Fang?”
“Fang can kick my ass any day of the week, and Snow's no slouch, either.” Rygdea paused to stroll down memory lane back to Bodhum in the days before the Purge. “Farron's on a whole 'nother level. You didn't have the pleasure of her interrogation technique. She didn't have to pull that gunblade to leave me feeling skinned.”
Cid relaxed as he barked a laugh at his second's predicament that day. “I remember that report.” A sly expression entered his eyes. “I also remember you nursing a drink or two that night.”
“Yeah, well, Farron's not just smart and wicked with a gunblade; she's perceptive and tactical in her thinking.” Rygdea chuckled a bit. “She'd figured out Euride before PSICOM finished wettin' themselves.”
Cid “Hmmm'd” in response. “Do you want more reasons to be glad she's on our side?” The larger man tapped the datapad on his desk.
“Sure.” Rygdea accepted the 'pad. Reading the contents left him in a strange state between relieved and awed.
Letter attached to report
Cid,
Disregard the KIA; it's a political notation insisted upon by the Primarch, nothing more. Please see the attached report from Sgt. Meli regarding former Sergeant Farron's capabilities at the start of Bodhum's Purge. Updated information on Farron and the Estheim boy are under that.
Tell your people to be careful.
Yaag
Begin PSICOM Report on “Lightning” Farron and Hope Estheim, Pulse l'Cie
According to the video we've obtained of Sgt. Farron battling PSICOM forces in the Hanging Edge, she is a master swordswoman and an expert in hand to hand combat. From PSICOM records, we know she is an expert markswoman with rifles and pistols. She earned exemplary marks in her huntress and inquisitrix training two and a half years ago. She is the only GC soldier on record to earn the privilege of wielding a gunblade in under a year, and only the second to earn expert certification in combat using the gunblade in under two years. She is a one-woman army. She wields thunder and ruin magic, and she possesses increased strength.
Update Farron/Estheim (l'Cie):
All units in Vile Peaks lost. Woodlands Observation Battalion decimated; all experimental weaponized beasts destroyed. Palumpolum Agora ambush failed. Ambush at Estheim Residence failed. Two havoc skytanks lost along with all personnel onboard; Military Director Rosch severely injured in direct confrontation with the l'Cie.
Contrary to previous reports of his lack of involvement in combat, since the l'Cie crashed into the Vile Peaks, reports indicate Hope Estheim wields all known elemental magics and appears to be particularly strong in thunder, water, and fire magic. He is also skilled in healing and protective magics.
Farron continues to grow in strength and magic. She is currently able to use ruin, thunder, fire, water, ice, and healing magics in addition to several abilities that negatively affect her opponents. Partnered with the magical abilities of Estheim, Farron has proven unstoppable on the battlefield.
The ambush on the Agora resulted in the loss of half the Palumpolum Security Division's assigned regiments. This had the negative impact of an incomplete Purging of the Palumpolum citizenry. Additionally, PSICOM forces, including Lt. Col. Yaag Rosch, were severely injured in the attack on the Estheim residence. All of this is due in large part to Lightning Farron and Hope Estheim. Recommend upgrading the priority for Farron and Estheim's neutralization to Alpha.
End PSICOM Report on “Lightning” Farron and Hope Estheim, Pulse l'Cie
“Definitely glad she's on our side.” Rygdea passed the 'pad back to Cid. Suppressing a shudder, he continued, “I'm glad the kid's on our side, too.”
“If they're enough to draw Yaag's concern, Farron and Hope are a formidable pair.”
“Yeah, I saw the footage from the Agora.” Carefully considering each word, the captain continued, “She really is attached to that kid, and he to her.”
Cid nodded in agreement. “Trust is a must in combat. And this is a war unlike anything seen since the War of Transgression.”
The two men drifted into their own thoughts on the l'Cie and what the future was likely to bring. Shaking off the introspection, Rygdea stood to leave. “Well, I'm glad they're willing to be a distraction.”
“Hopefully, they are willing to be more than that.”
“I don't think any of 'em are going to go quietly, if that's your concern.”
“That's not my concern.” Cid waved Rygdea on his way. “Don't you have a mission to carry out, Captain?”
“I'm going. I'm going.” Rygdea gave a sloppy salute before walking toward the door. He threw one last comment over his shoulder. “See you post-Primarch.”
Day 29, 1627 hours, aboard the Lindblum…
Rygdea felt antsy. The Palamecia went down before the Cavalry could launch their strike. And now Cid's avoiding me. It had been hours since the two men last spoke, and the older stalked the Lindblum's corridors. Where is he? We have to plan a counter—. His comm buzzed.
Flipping it opened, he growled, “Yeah. Rygdea.”
“Captain. You're in command.” The voice on the other end of the call stopped him cold.
“Cid! Where are you?” Rygdea waved the passing soldiers on their way.
“You're an honorable man, Sian. Do what you know is right.” The line went dead, leaving Rygdea to stare at his comm unit in disbelief. His numbness rapidly made way for the anger that followed.
“Like hell I'm in command!”
Striding purposefully toward the bridge, Rygdea made his way over to his commander's work station. Tapping commands into the console, he traced the call to within the bowels of the ship. He left as quickly as he entered.
Day 29, 1653 hours, aboard the Lindblum…
“Damn you, Raines.” The new commanding officer of the Wide Area Response Brigade raised his boot over the blinking comm. unit that lay on the catwalk. Slowly, he put his foot down so his toe just barely brushed the device. “Just great.” He bent over, scooped it up, closed it, and placed it into his pocket. When I find you, General, I'm kicking your ass!
Seriously need a different name for this chapter. It doesn’t quite capture the essence of what’s going on. Except it does. Except it doesn’t. Except.... Blech.
Anyway, in this chapter (and the one to follow) everything starts to come together. People who need to meet, meet. Conflicts that need to be set up are set up. Etc, etc.
I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. And regardless, I hope this chapter of Legacy makes your day a bit brighter.
Ignoring the oppressive silence as best as she was able, Damaera gazed out the window nearest her. Velestri Manor should be visible any time. As she finished the thought, the peaks of a large, rambling roof appeared over the treetops. Shortly after, the carriage turned to pass between two wide open gates; the intricate scrollwork held her attention until Rain gasped.
“I didn't realize it would be so large.” The girl's voice sounded small in the enclosed space. Her elder sister squeezed her hand in comfort.
“Nonsense. The Velestris are an old line dating back to the Thunian Empire. Their home reflects their lineage's age.” Enrich dismissed his daughter's concern.
That doesn't help her feel better. Damaera studied the imposing edifice of weathered stone. Three stories above ground, two wings could be seen branching off the main entry with a forest disappearing into the eastern distance and orchards, vineyards, and farms to the west. “On the plus side,” she smiled at her sister, “there's bound to be a place for all your books.”
Veronique perked up. “True. Even the books we've had to place in your father's study or in the back parlor would fit here.”
“Do you think I'll be able to bring them all?” Rain squeezed Damaera's hand before letting go. “That would be nice, to have them all in one place.”
The elder sister's smile turned mischievous. “Of course you can. You'll be living here after all.” Damaera leaned in closer as the carriage slowed to a stop. She waited until her father disembarked and reached for her mother. Her smile then turned coldly threatening, “And if you can't, I'll have a nice chat with Lord Velestri.”
“Damaera!” Rain's scandalized exclamation pulled their parents' attention.
“Come along, girls. We're already late; let's not keep our hosts waiting.” Madam Lacenore gestured for her daughters to follow while her husband reached in and handed them out of the carriage.
Keeping the girls between himself and the carriage to avoid any curious eyes, Ernich leaned close so as not to be overheard. “Remember what I said. Mind your manners.” He looked sternly at Rain. “That means no magic, or mention of magic, from you.” Then he glowered at Damaera. “And that means you will mind your tongue and remember your purpose here.” He stepped back and gestured the ladies of his family ahead of him to the door.
Rain looked down and nodded dejectedly before following. She kept her eyes locked on the ground until she heard Damaera rush to catch up with her.
Damaera, infuriated all over again, whispered to her sister, “Don't listen to him, Rain. Your magic is a gift, and anyo—!”
“Just stop, D.” Voice thickened with tears, the younger stopped the older before she could get started. “Not now. I just want this party to go smoothly.”
The half-elf drew a deep breath and breathed it out in a steady exhale to calm her temper. When she could speak again, she promised, “For you? Anything.”
“Thanks, D.” Blue eyes cleared of their melancholy once Damaera made her pledge to Rain. She never breaks a promise.
“Let's go.” Gently, Damaera led Rain to the door. Once this party is over, all bets are off. And Light save the Velestri family, or mine, if they think to hurt my sister in any way.
Once the Lacenore family entered and were announced, the older couple left the girls to mingle with their peers. Veronique explained and admonished in one breath. “We're going to greet Lord Velestri; we'll find you once that's done. Behave.”
Damaera rolled her eyes at her parents' departing backs. “What shall we do while they monopolize your groom's time?” She scanned the room in an attempt to find the food and drink that was always part and parcel to events like this. I need to eat soon.
“I don't know.” Rain's bright blue eyes widened. Uh-oh. She grabbed her sister's hand and started walking. “You haven't eaten since last night; let's find the refreshments.” Damaera happily followed her sister's lead.
The refreshments table was stocked with everything a nobleman or noblewoman could possibly desire to please their palate. Consequently, it held absolutely nothing Damaera wanted. “What are these things?” She poked what looked like bread pieces with a long-handled fork placed on the bread's serving plate. Who needs a fork for bread?
Rain sighed, exasperated. We've been here for ten minutes. I thought she was hungry. She grabbed the fork from her sister's hand and placed a couple of pieces on her sister's plate. “Don't be a food snob, D.” Scooping some dip onto the plate, she continued, “This is a late morning event. That means the food is prepared and presented as snacks, not meal courses.”
“I'm not a food snob!” Damaera scanned the people around them, then surreptitiously smelled the dip. “This is green, Rain. I thought green food was bad unless it was leafy.”
“Damaera!” The younger sister drawled her sister's name in vexed amusement. “Just eat it.”
“Fine.” The half-elf girl picked a bite up with her fingers and dabbed it gently into the dip. “If this is disgusting, I'm going to faint dramatically right here.”
“Of course you will. Everything you do is dramatic.” The younger sister's deadpan tone contrasted with the smile starting to turn up the corners of her mouth.
Nibbling daintily at her food, Damaera groaned in surprise. “This is really good!” She noticed Rain's smile. “Shush. How was I supposed to know green meant good here?”
A raspy soprano answered the older girl; the voice most definitely did not belong to the younger sister. “If you bothered to attend these gatherings with your parents and sister, Miss Lacenore the Elven, you'd know.” Two years Damaera's junior, Melissandra Schrader and her group of hangers-on often took it upon themselves to make the half-elf as miserable as possible during the social functions she couldn't escape. Despite the event being held in the younger Lacenore daughter's honor, this function was no different.
Rain closed her eyes in defeat. I thought we'd avoided her! The younger sister shivered as she noticed how the youngest son of Lord and Lady Schrader, Yves Schrader, gazed at her sister as if she was his to possess. Then he licked his lips, and she gagged. Ew! That's disgusting! She waited in torn desperation for her sister's reaction. Part of Rain wanted her sister to unleash her temper on the young adults around them, especially the Schraders. Another part knew Damaera would do no such thing because she'd promised no more conflict today. Isa 'Rain' Lacenore waited anxiously to see what would happen.
I promised Rain. Fighting her temper and the urge to pull her dagger on the Schrader's son—dress be damned—Damaera opted to beat the group at their own subtly derogatory game. Her demeanor turned just mocking enough to be insulting. “Hello, Melissandra. I'd say it was nice to see you again, but my mother taught me not to lie.” She casually nibbled some more at her bread and dip. Ok, maybe not so subtle.
Miss Melissandra Schrader had approached looking to provoke a fight, and she had enough experience interacting with the half-elf to know just how to strike. The brunette turned glacier blue eyes to the gaggle of young ladies and gentlemen who sought to follow her lead, finding her own sense of power in turn. Shrugging as if she hadn't expected Damaera's verbal riposte to amount to much and that even her low expectations hadn't been met, she asked her sycophants, “What can you expect from the spawn of elves?” Tittering laughter from the surrounding young nobility dug the rhetorical knife deeper.
Damaera stiffened at the other woman's blatantly bigoted remark before forcing herself to relax again. I'll show you what to expect from elf-bloods! The older Lacenore ran her sharp gaze from the top of Melissandra Schrader's head to the bottom of her shoes and back again in a scathing inspection that brought an indignant flush to the other woman's cheeks.
Smirking, Damaera looked to her younger sister. “Didn't we see that same style of dress on Monique Marraquette last week?” She looked back to the second daughter of Lord and Lady Schrader before continuing with a distinct bite. “I must say, the design has much more flair with bold colors.” She nonchalantly swept a hand along her skirts drawing attention to its color, the boldest of any garment in the group. Maybe Mother's choice wasn't so off after all. Then she turned away with a triumphant smile knowing she'd hit where it would hurt most: the other woman's vanity; her dress was pastel pink.
In a fit of pique, Melissandra stepped forward and attempted to grab Damaera by her arm. The half-elf evaded her easily. She stared menacingly until the human woman backed down. “C'mon, Rain. I'm sure Mother and Father are looking for you.” The older sister took her younger sister by the hand and led her away.
Unbeknownst to any of them, a young maid who had been replacing a sweets tray on the table witnessed the entire thing. She made her way over to Bedivere. “Sir, there was an incident involving my lord's fiancee and her sister.” At his raised brows, she relayed the entire series of events leaving out only the elder sister's contempt for the food. Nodding, the old castelain waved her back to her duties.
Bedivere scanned the crowd looking for the leader of the Velestri family. Finding Lord Verad standing with Lord Aluan and the Lacenore girls' parents, he approached and waited to get the elder brother's attention; he got the younger brother's instead. “Excuse me, my lord.” He gestured for Aluan to step away for a moment.
“What is it, Bedivere?” Aluan kept his gaze on Verad and Ernich and his wife. Something is off about them. He'd been trying to solve that puzzle for most of the fifteen minutes since they'd arrived. The younger Velestri had barely noticed Bedivere's arrival because he'd been so focused on ferreting out what bothered him about the Lacenore parents.
“The young ladies had an encounter with the Schrader siblings.”
That got Aluan's attention. “What kind of encounter?”
“Nothing the half-elf girl couldn't handle, but I thought it was better to let Lord Verad know sooner than later.” The elderly castelain sniffed softly. “Master Schrader was rather indiscreet in his admiration of the elder Miss Lacenore's person while Miss Schrader attempted to get physical. Miss Laccenore ignored the boy, evaded the girl, stared her down, then drew her sister away.”
Both Schraders? Black brows twitched towards Aluan's hairline. And Yves was his usual disgusting self. The brows came crashing back down into a formidable scowl before disappearing.
Bedivere recognized the brief change in expression for the amazement and revulsion it represented. “Perhaps if Lord Verad meets with his fiancee and her sister, the Schraders will find something else with which to amuse themselves.”
Nodding, the younger brother stepped back in to the conversation the castelain had pulled him from while Bedivere returned to his duties. Veronique was just excusing herself and her husband to mingle with the other guests. Both noblemen said the appropriate pleasantries before the Lacenores entered the crowd.
Touching Verad's elbow, Aluan indicated they should step back toward the wall behind them where there were less people. Once there, and he was certain no one was paying attention to them, he warned, “We have a problem.”
Verad shifted his gaze from the guests in front of them to his brother. “What kind of problem?”
“Apparently, Melissandra and Yves have decided the Lacenore sisters are fair game.” Aluan kept scanning the area around them.
“How so?” Green eyes hardened. I never wanted to marry, but the contract's signed. I'll be damned if I let Melissandra's pettiness make this situation more awkward or difficult than it needs to be.
“You know Yves.” At the taller man's curt nod, the younger continued, “And Melissandra has carried a torch for you since she was at least seventeen.”
“Like that was ever going to happen.” Verad murmur barely reached Aluan's ears.
Lord Aluan shrugged indifferently. He speaks the truth. The Schraders don't have the lineage we need. He turned the situation relayed to him by Bedivere over in his mind. What could possibly have attracted Melissandra to the half-elf daughter?
“What happened?” The older man looked at the younger questioningly. It's not like Aluan to withhold important information from me. Cocking his head to the side, he asked, “Was Isa the target?”
“What? No.” Pulling himself from his thoughts, Aluan explained, “It was the half-elf, Damaera. Isa seemed to be caught in the crossfire.” He continued as Verad sighed in relief, “Melissandra made some crude comments about elf-blooded children, and Damaera essentially played on her vanity to provoke her into a physical reaction.” Aluan shook his head slightly. The girl is clever. Melissandra rarely makes mistakes like that, and she never backs down.
Verad felt he was on tenterhooks waiting to find out how the situation resolved. “Well, what happened? A fight hasn't broken out so I trust nothing came of it.”
“Nothing came of it. Isa's sister intimidated Melissandra, Yves, and their usual clique into backing down.” Finally catching sight of Ernich and Veronique with two young women he assumed were their daughters, Aluan focused Verad's attention on the Lacenore sisters.
Lord Verad shook his head. The half-elf girl is far more brash than I expected. Catching his brother's gesture, he saw the Lacenores near the door of the ballroom-cum-reception room. As he watched, the parents left the sisters alone again. “I'll introduce myself. That should be enough to warn the Schrader siblings off.” His younger brother nodded in agreement. I hope Isa's nothing like her sister.
The groom-to-be strode away. Where are the Schr—….There they are. Verad made certain to pause and adjust his cuffs in Yves' and Melissandra's lines of sight to catch their attention before continuing on to the petite blond he was engaged to.
The half-elf sister became aware of him first. She's ethereally beautiful. He caught his steps just before he would've stumbled. That would've ended badly. Her green eyes completed a quick inspection of him from his head to his toes before glaring at him in warning. I should really introduce her to Aluan. Oil and water and all that. The idea brought him more amusement than it probably should have. Verad saw his private amusement did not sit well with the older sister.
“This is a beautiful home, D. I mean I know it's creepy, and so big...”
A pleasant alto chattering away nervously pulled him from fantasies of watching his infuriatingly calm brother losing his shit because of the daring, headstrong woman before him. Verad arched a brow slightly in query. If she's waiting for me to interrupt her sister, she'll be waiting a long time.
After a moment, D, as her sister called her, apparently decided he passed her test; she nudged the platinum blond beside her. “Rain.” She watched him watch her sister.
As beautiful as Damaera was, due in no small part to the robustness of her elven heritage—half-elf children had become a rarity since the elves left centuries ago, Isa Lacenore took his breath away.
Rain stumbled to a halt in mid-sentence, much to her sister's amusement. A tall, handsome man with black hair and green eyes stood before them. He spoke before she could recover.
“Good morning. I'm glad you arrived; we were beginning to worry.”
And here is Ch 3. I have material for I don’t know how many chapters already. I’m still writing from our first play session and this weekend marks the 6th session of play, and we don’t play for short periods of time.
Enjoy!
Chapter 3: Brothers
Pulling on his cuffs until they fell just so, Lord Verad Velestri evaluated his reflection in the mirror above his bureau. Black hair, a bit longer than expected for a man of his station, fell fetchingly over his vibrant green eyes; a starched white shirt was tucked neatly into black satin trousers. Absent a tie for now, he appeared approachable with a devil-may-care attitude. Taller than average, Verad's clothing hid, and his slim build belied, the wiry strength beneath. Measured steps approached his half-open door from the hall as he reached for the matching jacket, shrugged it on, and adjusted the collar until it lay flat. “Tell me again why the younger girl was chosen.”
His door swinging open preceded the answer the elder Velestri sought. “Because the elder attracts trouble the way honey attracts flies.”
Lord Verad turned to face the younger man standing in his doorway. “That doesn't answer my question, Aluan.” He gave another tug on his cuffs to settle them into place beneath the jacket. A scowl darkened his expression. “I don't want a child-bride.”
Aluan Velestri's steel blue eyes gazed at his brother impassively from under a cap of black hair that was just beginning to look too long. “Isa Lacenore is of marriageable age according to Azgundi law and custom.” He held a hand up to forestall his brother's coming argument. “While she has not yet attained her majority, she is the only suitable woman of an appropriate age with the proper lineage in all of Azgund, Turen, or the Emirates. I looked.” The young man sighed heavily, sharing his brother's distaste at the age difference. “Lacenore's half-elf daughter is too risky, socially and politically.”
“Thirty years is not overly old to marry, Brother.” Verad's statement didn't faze the younger Velestri at all. His brother's ironclad composure irked the nobleman further. “Many of our peers remain unmarried, and our father's peers married between thirty-five and forty to women in their mid-twenties.”
“Those families do not carry the burden we do.” Cold voice matched cold eyes as Aluan rebutted all of his brother's objections. Time was running out on the eldest brother, and the younger could feel it.
Face flushing with ire, Verad snarled, “I want no part of this farce!”
“You do not have a choice, Verad.” Aluan crossed his arms over his chest. “The elder brother marries and sires children while the younger guards and watches.”
“And that's another point.” Unwilling to let the argument go, the elder Velestri continued his rant as he began to pace. “This girl was conceived with magical aid. How do we know she can conceive without it if her mother couldn't.”
Aluan rolled his eyes once his brother turned to pace away. “It's not unheard of, Verad. The Velestri fortune will buy all the help you and she may need while also buying silence.” His voice hardened. “If money and name are not enough to ensure your and her privacy on the matter, I will.”
Sagging in defeat, the elder Velestri nodded dejectedly. “What if she doesn't like me? Or I frighten her?”
“You won't.” A smirk lifted the left corner of Aluan's mouth. “You have three of the Schrader girls eating out of your hand, and you ignore them as much as etiquette allows.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Put in a little effort, and your fears will prove groundless. Isa Lacenore is a romantic at heart.”
Finding some solace in his younger brother's reassurances despite his unhappiness with the circumstances, Verad nodded. “Very well. We'd better finish dressing. The guests are due to arrive in the next twenty to thirty minutes.”
Aluan bowed himself out of his brother's room. Five quick strides took him to a door on the opposite side of the hall. He entered and closed the door behind him. Walking to his bureau, he fastened his tie with precise movements then continued his toilet. The mindless activity, mindless because he'd done the same multiple times a week since he'd returned home two years ago, allowed his thoughts to drift to his discoveries and the negotiations with Ernich Lacenore, Merchant's Guild Councilman and father to the only two women in the country he could consider for the position of his brother's wife.
Flashback
Six months ago, Lady Dawn de Guare's private library...
All the way back to Loriana. Of course. Aluan rapidly ran finger and eyes up to the last full-blooded member of his brother's prospective bride's family who had been known to his own family. There are no others. Antoinette was a lucky find a century ago. Finding Loriana's name, he slowly drew the connections between her and her surviving great grandchildren. Our mother, grandmother, and great grandmother were all the end of their respective lines. No uncles or cousins to carry the blood to another generation. I must look further afield to find her.
Slashing black brows, with just a hint of an arch in the middle, rose incredulously over steel blue eyes. “Two? That's unusual.” He sat back in his chair, hands steepled in front of his lips in thought. One a half-elf, the other not. Paternity – Ernich Lacenore, a member of the Merchant's Guild Counsel. Coming to a decision, he stood, closed the book he'd been looking at, and put it back. The young man quickly scanned the unabridged records of the Merchant's Guild. He murmured, “Here we go,” as he pulled a thick tome from a lower shelf.
Aluan paged quickly through the book to the records of the Lacenore holdings. A moderately lavish home in the Merchant's Quarter. Lucrative holdings in everything from spices to cloth to antiquities to magical reagents and items. Payments for Guild business made seventeen years ago. Married Avania Silverbrook in Turen twenty-two years ago, and she gave birth to a half-elven girl, Damaera, twenty years ago. Died nineteen years ago. Brows furrowed in empathy at the unknown girl's loss; the twenty-two year old man shook the feeling away. Focus. Married Veronique Boudreaux eighteen years ago, and she gave birth to a human girl, Isa, fifteen years ago.
These two entries don't add up. Closing the heavy book, Aluan put it back on the shelf and went in search of Lady Dawn. Perhaps she can shed some light on this. He sped up the stairs to Lady Dawn's study then knocked on the door.
“You may enter.” The deep voice reverberated from Lady Dawn's only known bodyguard.
Aluan nodded to the towering figure who opened the door and waited for the guard to step aside.
Stoically ignoring the suspicious glower leveled at him from the other, the younger Velestri entered and bowed to the woman standing in the middle of the room.
As her bodyguard approached her, Lady Dawn spoke before Aluan could. “Focus on the younger sister, Lord Aluan.”
I shouldn't be surprised the Lady knows what I was researching. Dark brows furrowed again. “Why not the elder, Lady Dawn?” Aluan barely managed to stop his explanations. She's closer to what we need. She may even be able to revive the family's waning blood.
The Lady of Guare paused a moment to consider her answer. Finally, she simply stated, “She will not bring your brother happiness.”
Dumbfounded, Aluan allowed Athear, Lady Dawn's bodyguard, to escort him out of her study.
Four months ago, Lacenore Trading Company, Ernich Lacenore's office…
“Would you care for a drink, my lord?” Ernich Lacenore was dressed in muted colors befitting his pretension to a middlingly successful merchant. The lavish quality of the cloth and stitching gave the lie to his appearance.
Aluan was unimpressed by the affectation. “No. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Recovering quickly despite the surprising break in business etiquette, Ernich set down the decanter of brandy and waved his guest to a seat. “How can I help you, Lord Velestri?”
“I have come to discuss something of great import to your family and mine, Master Lacenore.” The younger man sat in the offered chair, careful to keep an eye and ear on the door and windows.
Ernich sat across from his unexpected guest. “You have my attention.” He kept his expression guarded.
Satisfied that the windows and door were duly closed and no eavesdroppers were present, the younger Velestri spoke plainly. “It involves your daughter, Isa.” Aluan noticed the avaricious gleam in the older man's eyes as he came to the only honorable conclusion such a statement could indicate. Gossip and tradition being what they are, he won't mistake the younger Velestri asking after his marriageable daughter for anything other than a marriage proposal on behalf of the older brother. The resigned cast to his thoughts was masked by his blank expression.
“Isa is lovely, of course, and a quiet, well-behaved girl.” Ernich sat back in his chair. “She is, however, the younger and still at least a month from her sixteenth birthday.”
“Twenty-four days, actually.” Aluan nearly smiled at Lacenore's small start at the information. He thought he had the upper hand; I wasn't supposed to know her birth date.
“Of course, my lord.” Councilman Lacenore tried to shift the focus of the conversation again. “My eldest, Damaera, is not only of marriageable age, she reached her majority three years ago.”
“I understand.” Aluan sighed silently. I'd hoped I wouldn't have to do this. Pleasantly, he continued, “I've taken the liberty to look into both girls' temperaments.” He watched Lacenore flinch impassively. “Isa is a better match for my brother than her elder sister.”
Lacenore's demeanor darkened before quickly becoming guarded, then affable. “As I said, my lord, Isa is a pleasant young lady. Damaera is a much more,” he paused before continuing, “adventurous individual.”
Aluan filed the caustic tone Ernich couldn't quite mask away for later. “We are close enough to Isa's sixteenth birthday to discuss the terms of the engagement, dowry, and marriage.”
“Let us get started, then, Lord Velestri.”
End Flashback
Aluan shook the slimy feeling of the last memory from his mind. He definitely wanted to marry his eldest off as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Pulling his jacket on and settling it into place, the younger Velestri exited his room again. One can only wonder why, although his response to my information from Lady Dawn was telling. A smirk hovered just out of reach. He never knew I lied about checking on his daughters.
Verad exited his room as his brother approached. “Actually smiling, are we?”
“Practicing for your adoring public.”
“Are you sure it's mine and not yours?” Verad grinned at his brother's flat look.
“Ah, there you are, my lords.” Bedivere, longtime retainer and acting castelain, approached the two.
“Bedivere.” Verad nodded.
The older man bowed stiffly. “Lord and Lady Schrader have arrived with their daughters and youngest son.” He sniffed in offense. “They are ten minutes early so I saw them into the morning parlor before coming to fetch you.”
“Thank you, Bedivere,” Aluan nodded in appreciation.
“Of course, my lord.” Bedivere bowed slightly again in acknowledgment.
“Have they received any refreshments?” Verad's polite question was met with a haughtily disgusted stare before the castelain blinked. Here it comes.
“My lord? If they'd arrived ten minutes later, when they should have, they would be able to drink and eat as they like.”
The two brothers watched the older man walk away with a spring in his step.
“He always gets us, doesn't he?” The older brother shook his head.
Aluan huffed in amusement. “If we knew someone for as long as he has us, we would, too.”
“True.” Verad transitioned to Lord Verad. “Shall we see to our guests?” Barely waiting for the younger's accepting nod, he lead them into the main hall and to the morning parlor.
Well, links to all my tumblr fics (Legacy (D&D fanfic), Dragon Age, and FFXIII) as well as my FFXIII meta discussions are now incorporated into my new theme. Hopefully, this will make it easier for people looking for something specific to find it.
Truly, any feedback on the page and the subpages—what works, what doesn’t, what can go, what should be added, etc—would be greatly appreciated.
Find Ch. 1 here. I hope y’all have fun with this chapter because I certainly did. :D
Summary: Trouble comes in all shapes and sizes, and for Damaera Silverbrook trouble comes will she/nil she. Gathering allies from Shadows and Light, will she get her merry band of misfits to help her save the world? And will her world be saved in the process?
As always, statements in double quotes are speech, statements without quotes are thoughts, and single quotes are special based on their context (onomatopoeia, euphemism, quoting another, etc.).
Chapter 2: Sisters
Skittering the last few feet along the roof to the gable sheltering her window, Damaera smiled as the sun topped the surrounding buildings. Plenty of time. Need some food, then some sleep. A niggling feeling that she was forgetting something wriggled into her thoughts. She held fast to the eaves and leaned over the edge to her window. Whatever it is, I'll find out soon enough. With a gentle shove, her window opened, and she flipped herself off the gable, over the eaves, and into her room.
“Where have you been?!”
The half-elf stumbled on her landing as she spun to face the source of the voice, blond braid swinging behind her. She withdrew her hand from the dagger sheathed at her back as soon as she matched the voice to her sister's face. Her sister's irate and worried expression and matching glare boded ill for the young woman.
“Out.” Damaera deflected her sister's concern. Why is she wearing that? The younger wore a sky blue taffeta gown with cap sleeves, a boat neckline, and full skirts that brushed the floor when she walked. Her sister's petite frame was hugged in all the right places by her dress, which also flattered the younger girl's platinum blond hair and turquoise blue eyes. The image change from girl to young woman caused the older sister to send a look skyward as if asking for supernatural intervention. Better her than me, in any case.
“What are you doing in here, Rain?” Eyebrow quirked in curiosity, the half-elf pulled off the band holding her braid and began to finger comb the heavy waves. She meandered toward her maple wood vanity where a white pitcher with a green ivy design winding its way up the handle sat filled with water. A matching bowl was next to it with a white cloth draped over its side. Damaera pulled the cloth out of the bowl and poured water into it.
“You forgot, didn't you?” Rain, the younger sister by five years, stood with a huff and began to pace. Hands pulled at her skirts nervously, alternately pinching and crimping then flattening the fabric. Stockinged feet padded across the dark wood floor and back again; her pace increased with her agitation.
The elder watched in the mirror as she began to remove her weapons and the nearly black leather armor she wore the night before in case of trouble. “Forgot what?” The niggling feeling returned with a vengeance. This is important. Finally removing the last of her gear, Damaera gathered it up and walked to her closet. Carefully, she placed her armor and weapons, except her smallest dagger and sheath, in the chest she kept stashed in the back where her father and stepmother were least likely to find it. I'll need to oil that armor soon. Strapping the sheath at her back where she could easily conceal it and its contents with her clothing, she stood and reached for her regular day clothes, cotton breeches and blouse. Her sister's hands on hers stopped her cold.
“The party's today.” Rain's voice shook. “Mother and Father are already up.”
Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit! I really don't need to deal with them this morning. Damaera turned her hands to clasp Rain's hands in hers. Muttering “party” under her breath it took a few moments for the memory to surface.
A week ago over breakfast, they'd all gathered in the small family dining room. A smug smile lit their father's face as he announced to the family that Isa “Rain” Lacenore would marry Lord Verad Velestri, the twenty-nine year old scion of one of the oldest noble families in Azgund, thereby raising the prospects and fortunes of her family with her. A stunned Damaera sat, flummoxed at the idea of her sixteen year old sister married to a stranger so much older than either of them. A sobbing Rain ran from the room, her mother in pursuit. The fight that ensued between the half-elf daughter and the patriarch of the family left the servants quiet for days afterward, while shattered crystal and glass lay embedded in the rug beneath the table for days longer.
“Fucking shit! Your engagement party's today!” She dropped her sister's hands in shock.
“Language, Damaera!” Rain's indignant glare was her sister's only warning; she hit Damaera in the shoulder. “You did forget!”
“I'm sorry!” Damaera turned away to begin her washing routine. “A lot of stuff happened last night.”
“Like what?” Rain wrinkled her nose. “You smell like leather and sweat.” She stepped into her sister's closet and pulled out a formal gown—satin in a green so dark as to be nearly black. She reached in again and pulled out a matching corset and shoes.
“Nothing really. It was just...weird.” Damaera groaned as she saw what her sister held. “I am not wearing that.”
Rain ignored her and placed the clothing on the bed before pulling sheer stockings from the vanity and laying those out with the rest. “Give me the brush while you finish washing up.”
Passing her sister the hairbrush, Damaera continued to grumble. “I hate these things. I don't even know why I have to go! It's not like anyone will notice if I'm there or not, anyway.”
After living sixteen years with Damaera's penchant to speak whatever thoughts came to mind, Rain was well-accustomed to listening with half an ear. Focused on detangling the honey blond waves, she couldn't let the last statement go. “Mother and Father will notice.”
“I don't know why. It's not like they'll be able to use me to make alliances.” The elder grimaced. “I'll never pass for human.”
Speaking more softly, Rain let her sister see her fear for the future. “I would notice.” Trembling lips and tear-brightened eyes finished the vulnerable picture. As always, the sight struck Damaera right in the heart.
Spinning to face Rain, Damaera tossed the cloth she'd been using to wash away the evidence of her night spent breaking and entering into its bowl. Grasping the younger girl by her shoulders, the elder earnestly offered an escape.
“Let's go. We can leave and become bandits or pirates or….”
“I can't do that!” Incredulous, Rain gawked at her sister.
“Why not? I'll take care of you.” A shrug and cocky grin emphasized the half-elf's willingness to flout her parents' plans.
“The ocean stinks…,” Rain began.
“The harbor stinks,” Damaera countered.
Rain continued as if her sister hadn't interrupted. “The ocean stinks, and I like bathing regularly.” She looked the taller woman over. “How do you do this to yourself?”
“What?” Damaera gave up and allowed the change of subject. She flinched when Rain accidentally poked the shadow of a new bruise rising along the outer edge of her collar bone. “Ow!” She turned to look at it in the mirror. “Oh. Ummm… I don't know?”
The younger shook her head reprovingly. “Let's get you dressed, and then we'll do your hair.”
Grumbling goblin-speak met the suggestion. “I don't need anything fancy.”
“Good because we don't have time for fancy.” Forgetting her plight for the moment, Rain walked to the bed and picked up the stockings. Flashing her sister a sassy grin, she directed, “Here. Put these on while I figure out if the corset goes over or under….”
“It goes over. It was the only way Mother was able to get me into the thing.” Muttering more curses in goblin, Damaera picked a stocking up in distaste.
“It's not going to bite, D.” Rain laughed at her sister struggling with the innocuous bit of silk before frowning at the dress. “You're going to ruin this dress.”
Rolling her eyes, Damaera shot back with, “Ask me if I care.”
“Well, I care!” Rain held the length of fabric protectively.
“You can wear it, then.”
“I can't pull off something dramatic like this.” A wistful sigh escaped as Rain brushed a hand softly down the satin skirt.
“You sure?” Damaera looked hopefully, and only slightly in jest, to her sister. I loathe being the center of attention. She glared at the dress in the other's hands. And that thing screams 'Pay attention to me!'
“Nope.” Rain helped settle the dress on the elder once the stockings were on and straightened. She took a step back to take in the entirety of her sister's image. “I really like this on you.” Ignoring Damaera's rolling eyes and continued grumbling, the two managed to get the corset on and settled at the older girl's waist. Once that was done, Rain said, “Seriously. Take a look.” She gently turned the half-elf to face the mirror and began lacing the corset.
A shallow scooped neckline connected the split handkerchief-styled sleeves, the corners of which hung to her elbows. Nearly invisible darting was strategically placed to minimize crimping along the bust and waist once the corset was closed over the top of the dress. After the corset was tightened, the skirt curved lovingly over the top of Damaera's hips before flaring slightly and dropping gracefully to the floor. The corset itself had ivy vines stitched on the panels between the boning in a thread a shade or two lighter than its fabric. The dark color of the dress made Damaera's fair elven complexion glow in the morning light while the green tint darkened her moss green eyes and caused her honey blond hair to gleam despite its current disarray.
Damaera pulled Rain to stand beside her, “You're the focus of the party.” She smiled gently.
Rain shrugged uncomfortably. “I don't want to marry.” She picked up the abandoned brush and began working on her sister's hair again.
“So don't.” Frustrated at the situation and fed-up with being powerless to stop it, Damaera turned to her sister again.
“Mother and Father already signed the contract.”
“So? You deserve better, Rain.” The two jumped when the bedroom door suddenly opened, effectively ending the brewing argument.
“There you are.” Veronique Lacenore, mother to Rain and stepmother to Damaera, gazed impassively at the girls before noticing the dirtied water still sitting in the bowl with the soiled cloth in it. Leveling a sharper stare at the oldest, she asked, “Where were you last night?”
Damaera shrugged insolently. “Out.” Her stepmother's expression tightened briefly.
“Well, you being… out ...has caused us to leave later than planned.” She took the brush from her youngest daughter and began pulling it through the eldest's heavy mass of hair. “Your father is not pleased, and he sent me to see what was taking so long.” The room remained silent while she worked.
Once the tangles were removed, Madam Lacenore spoke to her daughter. “Rain. Please go to your room and bring your bowl and pitcher of water; I saw you hadn't used them.” Rain left quickly. She then pulled a vial of jasmine oil from her pocket. “I doubt you washed your hair this morning, Damaera.”
Damaera mutely shook her head.
“I thought not.” Sighing her stepmother added a few drops of the lightly sweet smelling oil to the clean water left in the pitcher. Swirling the oil into the water with a hair stick, the older woman pulled her eldest with her. Rummaging around in the vanity, she pulled out a clean towel and wrapped it around Damaera's shoulders. “Hold that there; we don't want to ruin your dress.” The older girl sullenly did as she was told.
Rain entered the room with her bowl and pitcher in hand. She set them on the vanity where her mother gestured and accepted the vial of rose oil her mother passed to her. “Five drops, Mother?”
Veronique nodded briskly. “You'll need to get your brush as well, Rain. I'll see to your hair once I'm done with Damaera's.” As the younger girl nodded and left again, the girls' mother dipped Damaera's brush in the scented water and again pulled the brush through the waves. “This should cover whatever you got into last night.”
“I didn't get into anything, Mother.” The half-elf sighed. “Just a little sweat. I washed it yesterday evening.”
“Well that's something, at least. This wouldn't work otherwise.” Deftly, the Lacenore Matriarch pulled and lightly twisted the sides under the tips of her adoptive daughter's ears while pulling the top of Damaera's hair flat. Veronique fastened the twists with an antiqued bronze clip cast in an interwoven vine design. With the exception of a few escaped tendrils that softened the angles of Damaera's face, the rest fell in a gentle cascade of waves and curls down the young woman's back to her waist. “There we are.” She squeezed the last of the excess damp from the ends to keep from staining Damaera's dress and moved on to Rain.
“Your turn, Rain.” Madam Lacenore brushed the rose-scented water through the youngest girl's hair before quickly twisting it into an elegantly rolled knot on the back of her head. She clipped the hair in place along the knot's long axis with two pins topped with glittering butterflies accented with a small blue topaz on each wing. “Well, there we are. All done.” She smiled encouragingly at the two young women before her. “Time to go before your father comes looking for us.”
Adopting an appropriately contrite demeanor for their father's benefit, Damaera and Rain followed their mother to the carriage waiting out front. Their father paced back and forth along side it. When he caught sight of his wife and daughters, he scowled.
“What took so long?” He gestured them all inside. A footman helped the Lacenore daughters into the carriage before being waved away.
“Damaera was having trouble with her hair.” Veronique deflected her husband's ill humor with an efficiency born of seventeen years of marriage.
“We're late! It's two hours to the Velestri Estate.”
She continued to placate her husband. “Have the driver keep the horses at a faster pace. Lady Dawn keeps the roads in good repair so it shouldn't be too dangerous or difficult to do that.”
A surly grunt was his answer as he handed her into the carriage and followed after.
Once the girls were settled into the vehicle and before their parents entered, Damaera leaned in close to Rain and whispered, “We can leave. You don't have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.” A sly gleam lit Rain's eyes with mischief. “Unless you want to do this?”
The elder lost all composure, jaw dropping and eyes popping. Voice somewhere between a terrified squeak and indignant growl, she responded, “No! Are you crazy?!”
The younger laughed. “You're closer to his age than I am, D.”
“Barely. And I don't know him.” Pulling the cloak of her dignity—what remained of it—around her, Damaera stated with as much decorum as she could muster, “Besides, I've told you before: I don't want to marry.”
Their conversation was cut short as their parents entered and sat in the bench seat across from them. Showing he'd heard at least the last part, Guild Counselor Ernich Lacenore gruffly bit out, “There's not a merchant or noble family in Azgund willing to marry their eldest sons to a half-elf girl.” He awkwardly patted his eldest's hands, now clenched around a handkerchief the same color as her dress. “I tried, Damaera. Not even the Velestris or the Valorns would consider it despite their strong ties to elf bloods.”
Rain watched Damaera's temper simmer as their father spoke of marrying her off—if only another family had wanted her. I can never tell if he is clueless to the pain he causes or if it's somehow deliberate because Damaera's mother died in childbirth.
Madam Lacenore stared at Damaera imploringly while subtly shaking her head “No” in an effort to maintain the day's fragile peace; Rain knew her sister's whitened knuckles meant the nonverbal request was in vain.
Damaera yanked her hands away from her father's awkward attempt at comfort. Eyes darkened to match her dress, she accused, “The only reason you're sorry is because it means you have one less tool you can use in your social climbing quest!”
The Lacenore Patriarch pulled himself up and attempted to regain control of the conversation. “I'm thinking of what's best for you and this family, girl! You'd do well to remember your place!”
“My place?” Incensed, Damaera ignored her sister and mother, choosing instead to focus on her father. “My place?! All of your business partners have one use for elf-bloods, Father, and begetting legitimate heirs isn't on that list anywhere!” The elder girl leaned forward, eyes narrowed as she cut his sputtering short. “Even if I was willing—I'll never be human, and I don't want to pass as human. I'm a half-elf!”
Veronique attempted to intervene while Rain clutched at Damaera's hand. “Damaera, no one is saying you have to pass as human….”
Beyond control now, Damaera rode roughshod over her stepmother. “Really?! Because from where I'm sitting, you both simply want to sell your daughters to the highest bidders to pad your own pockets! And that would be easier if I'd just pretend to be something I'm not!”
“Damaera!” Rain squeezed her sister's hand, appalled at the rapid meltdown.
“No, Rain!” The elder turned to the younger beseechingly, “You don't have to marry. Especially someone who is a stranger to you!” Her fury climbed higher as their father interrupted her.
“And what would she do, Damaera, should we no longer be able to care for her? Hmm?” Ernich gazed cold-eyed as he played his trump card. He knew Damaera would never sacrifice her sister's safety or well-being for any reason.
Never had Damaera wanted to slap her father's smug face so badly. Granting him a cutting glare, she declared, “I'll take care of her. We don't need the Velestris to—.”
“Enough!!!” Lacenore reached the end of his patience. “She will marry Verad Velestri! And you will be the dutiful sister in this, Damaera.” Pale blue eyes glared into darkened green. “If you are not,—.”
“Ernich! Let's not say anything in anger we'll regret later.” Veronique Lacenore restored a semblance of peace in the carriage with that simple command. Father and eldest daughter ignored each other for the next half hour.
In an effort to dismiss the tense atmosphere teeming with animosity, Rain teased her sister. “You could always marry a younger son, D.”
Horrified, Damaera sputtered, “No!”
“That's actually not a bad idea. Your father only looked into the heirs to the various families.” Veronique gazed consideringly out the window.
“Absolutely not!” Damaera shot Rain a threatening glare. “I refuse.” Her gaze narrowed further in warning as her sister's smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Rain,” she growled.
“Damaera,” the younger sister rejoined. “Think of it, you and I could be sisters twice over.”
“Not happening.” Calming down, the elder sent her sister a droll stare at her teasing. Damaera then turned her attention to the passing scenery.
“A Velestri second son doesn't marry.” Ernich's interruption silenced the women again, if only briefly.
Damaera leaned in toward Rain. Whispering, she asked, “Why would you volunteer me to marry?”
“Why not? Better you than me.” The younger helpfully pointed out, “You're the elder, and it's tradition to marry the elder child first.”
“I told you we could leave.” Dark blond brows waggled enticingly. “We could travel the world. Go on adventures….”
“No. I can't.” It was Rain's turn to shoot her sister a nasty glare. “I won't do that to Mother and Father.”
“Just think abo—.” Damaera found her mouth full of her own handkerchief. Rain, tired of the argument she'd been having with her sister since Damaera had entered her room that morning, used magic to remove the object from her sister's lap and shove it into Damaera's mouth as a gag. Both elder Lacenores responded predictably.
Bellowing, their father took his youngest daughter to task. “Rain! What do you think you're doing?!” Ernich looked as if he'd have an apoplexy.
“I can't believe you did that where anyone could see, Rain!” Veronique, always nervous around magic, twisted her own handkerchief in her hands.
Damaera, glaring again at her parents and sister, snatched the offending bit of cloth away and condemned her parents' hypocrisy. “Why not? She's a mage…with your permission!”
“Well, yes, but—,” Veronique glanced helplessly at her husband.
“It was with the understanding that she'd not use it outside of the house!” Ernich met Damaera's glare with one of his own.
Not one to backdown, Damaera continued her challenge, “When is she supposed to use it?”
“I'm sorry!” Rain quickly interjected to avert the argument she knew was coming. “I'm nervous, and it was meant as a joke.”
The elder sister muttered, “Some joke,” as she reached over and gave the younger's hand a reassuring squeeze.
“You will not do any such thing while we're at the Velestri Estate, Rain. Your behavior must be impeccable.” Ernich Lacenore leveled a stern gaze at his youngest daughter, evoking a nod of agreement.
Damaera opened her mouth to oppose her father's insistence that Rain hide her skills when the younger squeezed her hand and shook her head. Sighing, Damaera squeezed back and let the matter drop.
The last hour or so of the carriage ride was completed in silence.
This gets personal below the cut. Above the cut is writing stuff....
Ok, so I have a story title for my D&D story. Yes, I’ve decided to go ahead and turn my duet campaign with my wife (as DM) into a story. I’m doing this because the story is really fun, and much of what I’m writing right this moment for FFXIII and Dragon Age is actively triggering for me at this point in time. Nothing too very awful, just enough that I need a break between chapters. Legacy gives me that.
Happy Holidays to all of you. I hope you and yours enjoy good food, good drink, and great company. <3
On to the personal stuff, if you want to read...
Going to do a vocational/skills and interests assessment before moving forward with vocational rehab. My thought processes and mental space are much changed over the last several years, and I haven’t done a formal one of these since I took the ASVAB test prior to joining the Air Force nearly 22 years ago. Problem is, I fully expect these assessments to be just like all the others I’ve taken with a “You can do anything you set your mind to, just choose.” Talk about choice paralysis. :P I get really bored really fast if the job is too narrow, and I get overwhelmed if the job is too broad OR if I don’t have enough time to do everything I’m supposed to do on a regular basis. Add downright pissy when people are involved, and I have no clue what to do. We’ll see how this one works.
I went to a VA mental health assessment/intake last week, and they’re probably adding cyclothymia with delusional thinking to my list of shit wrong with my head. Basically, it’s bipolar-lite with a baseline of unrealistic thinking patterns. Go figure. :P
As for dealing with my PTSD, I’m in a group therapy class centered around mindfulness (the deliberate act of being mentally in the present), and today was my first day. So far, I seem to be the only one willing to TRY to check my preconceptions at the door and be open to having them pointed out in group discussion (despite wanting to run home within the first 5 minutes). Then again, I seem to be the only one who recognizes my usual routine is extraordinarily counterproductive, and I can only say that my previous counselor in Colorado Springs has a lot to do with that. We’ll see how this goes.
I see a psychiatrist in January, but I probably won’t see a counselor for one on one therapy until later in 2017. My wife was scheduled for May, I think. Might’ve been March. They have a few counselors retiring in the next few months so there are no new openings for new clients.
That’s really about it. The holidays are going to be without the usual tree, wreath, stockings, and gifts until tax season. That’s ok, though. We have a roof over our head, food on our “table”, and each other. This year could’ve been so very much worse.
Ok, so I wrote a week or so ago that I was thinking about posting the novelized version of my and my wife’s duet D&D campaign (3.5 edition for those who are curious) on here at least first, maybe FF.net and AO3 postings will come once I get my own computer (sometime in March).
[Edited out chatty stuff to add]
Summary: Trouble comes in all shapes and sizes, and for Damaera Silverbrook trouble comes will she/nil she. Gathering allies from Shadows and Light, will she get her merry band of misfits to help her save the world? And will her world be saved in the process?
As always, statements in double quotes are speech, statements without quotes are thoughts, and single quotes are special based on their context (onomatopoeia, euphemism, quoting another, etc.).
Chapter 1: Omens and Portents
Slinking through shadows, conscious of every step, she snuck up behind her unsuspecting target—a young man gazing into the night, lost in his thoughts. Slowly, slender hands reached from the darkness. With a speed few would expect of the young woman, she grasped his shoulders and whispered “Boo!” in his ear. He startled hard enough to dislodge her hands and knock her back a step.
“Don't do that!” Mouse spun to face his tormenter. Brown hair, slightly too long, whipped brown eyes.
Doubling over and struggling to speak around her laughter, Damaera answered with a wink, “It's not my fault you weren't paying attention.” She stepped into the light filtering through the alleyway. A playful smile flirted with full lips while gently crinkling the corners of moss green eyes; their mischievous glint accented the slight tilt and complemented the high cheekbones that hinted at her elven heritage.
“Not funny, Damaera.” Mouse's pout pulled more stifled giggles from his long-time friend.
“Ok. I'm sorry.” The young half-elf sobered enough to placate her partner-in-crime. “What's wrong? You're not usually so jumpy.”
The young man's disgruntled expression turned anxious. He gestured deeper into the alley they'd agreed to meet in. Once he was satisfied they were deep enough to avoid detection from the street, he answered. “Orphans have gone missing from the streets.” Mouse's eyes jumped from shadow to shadow as he twitched at every small noise.
“Orphan orphans or guild orphans?” Damaera tried to keep her voice even. Despite learning to control her physical cues to project the image she wanted others to see, she didn't bother using those skills with people she trusted.
“Does it matter?” The defensive tone caught her off guard.
“No, I guess not.” Damaera blushed lightly at her faux pas. Way to go, D. Not everyone has a home to go to.
“Baran thinks it's a new guild in town.” Mouse saved her from her spiraling guilt.
Curiosity pushed the last of the guilt away. “Any word on what they're after?”
“No idea.”
The half-elf shrugged. “Well, nothing to be done right now. We'll have to keep an ear out.”
Mouse reached out to gently flick her ear, causing blond wisps that had escaped her braid to sway. “Easy for you to say.”
“Hey!” Damaera mock-glared at him. “Keep that up, and I'll leave you on your own tonight.”
“Consider it payback for earlier.” As her glare went from playful to meaningful, Mouse held his hands up in surrender. “Alright. Alright. Truce?”
“Truce.” A grin spread, adding a devilish cast to her expression. “Let's go. We have things to do.” Blond brows waggled conspiratorially. “Decluttering homes is such a thankless job.”
Mouse laughed softly. “Good thing people can count on you to help with that.”
“It's important work.” Damaera led them out into the night-shrouded streets.
Several hours later…
“Maybe we should just go back to the Orphanage.” Mouse tapped Damaera's shoulder.
“This is bizarre. There was nothing anywhere.” Green eyes cut to the lounging shadow next to her. “I know you guys are low on funds and supplies. This was supposed to help.” An exasperated huff escaped her as she cut off whatever Mouse was going to say. “Everyone was talking about how these families would be gone. I thought for sure we'd find something small enough to fence and valuable enough to get a decent price.”
Brown eyes bored into green as Mouse stepped forward and turned Damaera to face him. “It's ok. We tried.”
Damaera twisted away and stepped back to lean against the wall and sulk some more. “Not good enough. My name will protect me; you and the others don't have that protection.”
Mouse sighed before letting it go. “Fine. Let's go see Baran.” Nodding dejectedly, Damaera agreed and again took the lead.
“Princess. Mouse.” Baran's yellowed grin glowed in the dimly lit interior. Other members in the guild, all between the ages of 4 and 17 and dressed in well-mended castoffs, milled around the common area.
Damaera rolled her eyes. “Hello, Baran.” Mouse simply nodded at his guild leader and stayed a half-step behind his friend.
“What brings you two in so early?” The grin twisted into a smirk. “Too much goin' on up top?”
“No. That's the problem.” Damaera looked at Mouse then turned an apologetic look to her guild master. “My information was bad; we have nothing.”
“No worries.” Baran approached and set a hand on the half-elf's shoulder. “You can't get it right all the time, Princess.” Clapping her softly in encouragement, he stepped back. “Mouse, 'ere, will keep workin', and you keep listenin'.”
“Yeah.” Damaera shifted tack. “Hey, Baran.” She waited until he nodded at her. “What's this I hear about orphans going missing from the streets?”
“You know as much as we do. New gig's in town and stealin' the talent.” Baran looked proudly around at his guild. “Not that our guild's lost anyone.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Cocking her head to the side, Damaera continued, “It's only a matter of time before they make a move on our niche, and we're small as it is.”
“Not to worry, Princess.” Baran gestured her closer. When she stepped up to where he wanted her, he leaned down and said, “You keep eyes and ears on what's happenin' up top, and we'll keep eyes and ears on what's below.”
Shaking her head, Damaera gave him the answer he wanted. “Fine.”
“That's my girl.” A wide smile brightened the grizzled street rat's expression. “Get on with you, Princess. Your Pap's waitin' for you.” He gestured to Mouse to see Damaera out.
“Alright, I'm going. And next time I come back, I'll have something for you.” She shook her head at Baran's dismissive hand wave.
Outside the Healing Light's medical clinic, 18 minutes later…
“Hey, Mouse.”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think about this new guild?”
Mouse gazed at his friend. This is really bothering her. He shrugged. “I figure I'll let Baran worry about it. Why?”
“I know that's what I should do.” Lips quirking into a slant, Damaera narrowed her eyes in thought. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” She looked up toward the looming building across from them.
A shadowy figure flitted across the topmost ridge of the roof. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone again.
The hell was that? Damaera looked to her companion briefly to see if he noticed. Nope.
“Well, how about this, then?” She smiled. “We meet right here in three nights.”
“Ok. So, you're off then?” Mouse smiled indulgently.
“Yeah. Better get home before someone finds me missing.” Green eyes looked to the lightening sky. “That's just what I need. My mother lying in wait, tapping her toes because I don't want to be stuck in my room all night.” She shuddered. Or worse. One of those nightmarish dresses.
Mouse's smile disappeared. “Be glad you have someone to worry about you. Not everyone does.”
Caught by surprise by her friend's disapproval again that night, Damaera went on the defensive. “I know that. Is it so wrong that I want something different for my life than what she does?” She stared hard at the ground. “I'll never be human, Mouse. And elf-bloods aren't welcome in the circles my parents want to rise into.”
Sighing, Mouse tried to help. “I know, Damaera. And no, it's not wrong to want to be more.” He shoved her shoulder playfully. “It's just your luck you're so much more than they can handle.”
“Yay me.” The young woman's drawl accompanied a returning smile. “Alright. I really gotta go. Meet me here in a few days?”
“I'll be here.”
As Mouse walked into the shadows, Damaera casually walked across the street and into the alley along the near side of the Church.
She gazed at the side, mentally placing foot and hand holds in order. Up we go. She began to climb.
Quickly reaching the roof without incident, the half-elf carefully made her way over to where she saw the shadow. Nothing. Something has to be here. A scuff mark. A twisted tile. Something. No one moves that fast and doesn't leave a sign behind. She scoured the entire roof to no avail.
Damn it. She sighed as she noticed the sun rising above the horizon. “Shit. I need to get back.” Abandoning her search, but not her curiosity, she made for home via the rooftops.
Oh my freaking gods... I’m finally working on the Gran Pulse time and distances calculations to figure out how long the l’Cie were wandering around like damn fools in Ch 11 of FFXIII. I have the Subterra, Sulyya Springs, Taejin’s Tower, and Oerba to get through still, so I’m about halfway done.
So far, the l’Cie have been hanging out on Gran Pulse for a good 3 months just to get from Point A to Point B while learning enough of the land that they can camp, eat, and drink in relative safety.
I should have it ready to go over the weekend. *crosses fingers*
