Spirit of the Steppe

The adventures of a blended family of Au Ra in the world of Hydaelyn. Denizens of Hyperion/Lamia in Final Fantasy XIV

[xirelluniyt]

A New Challenger

Niytshade appreciated the nighttime excursions with Xiran. His knowledge of the city and its history made every night full of history and discovery. Sharing what little they could remember of their old homes in the East helped her feel less lonely. They sat on the same bench in the Sapphire Exchange as the night they met. It was still early in the night as townsfolk walked about the market. She wore a cloak with a large hood, careful not to be noticed. Xiran sat with a sleeveless shirt over black pants and boots. “One day you'll be able to walk around without that hood. The people are already used to me, I'm sure another Au Ra wouldn't be a shock at this point,” Xiran said, noticing how Niytshade adjusted her hood often. “It's not their reactions that concern me. Some of these people could be Gunther's clients. The last thing I want is for him to find out I'm gallivanting with you,” she replied.

“What, worried he'll retaliate and throw you in the basement?”

“No, you need the work. He'd never trust you and I'd never see you again.”

Xiran lifted an eyebrow. Niytshade blushed and looked to the floor. “You're my only friend. I don't want to lose you.”

Xiran smiled and nudged Niytshade with his elbow. “No worries, lass. I'm not going anywhere right now.”

“And when you decide to go to the Steppe?” Niytshade responded sadly.

“You're coming with me, of course.”

“Sir Gunther won't just let me leave, you know.”

“I'm well aware, and I have a plan!”

Niytshade tilted her head at Xiran, listening. “Well, I'm sure you can imagine Gunther is a man that tries to recoup his losses, and if you decided you wanted to leave he would want a return on his investment, so to speak. So...if I started fighting again I could build up a substantial sum to help you with that.”

Niytshade gasped at the idea. “No, Xiran, I can't let you do that for me! You took up being a doorman at the brothel to stop fighting. You even said Johan was glad to see you find something more steady and less arduous!”

Xiran leaned back on the bench and sighed. “I know, I know...but there's been an itch these last few months. It's like my soul...misses it. In essence, I'd be doing it more for me than you, but I'd be helping you anyway so it's two birds with one stone!”

Niytshade sighed in exasperation. “I swear, you're so hard-headed.”

“Well, my father was Ala Mhigan, so that's probably why.” Xiran put a hand on Niytshade's shoulder. “I'll be fine. I even took some side jobs for Gunther so that I wouldn't be fighting all the time. In two days he's going to take a caravan out to Byregot's Strike for an archaeological dig he funded. Rumors say there are zombies and worms out there, so they'll need protection.”

“Well I suppose that's better than being in the Coliseum,” she agreed reluctantly. “When is your next fight?”

Xiran straightened up in his seat. “Tomorrow night. In my absence, a new gladiator has risen pretty quickly. They say she's lethal with a sword and shield.”

“Do you know her name?” Niytshade asked with a twinge of concern

“Skylar McCloud! Get moving young lady or you'll be late to your interview with the Mythril Eye!” The shout rang through the miqo'te's ears like a lightning bolt. Skylar shot up from her pillow as if it were on fire and rushed to her door. “Oh gods, I can't go out naked!” She dressed in a loose long sleeve gray shirt she usually used for sparring and tight brown pants with boots. She looked in the mirror and fixed her dark red hair. Her deep blue eyes darted over every detail of her clothing. She reapplied her favorite red lipstick before rushing down the stairs of the tiny apartment she shared with her mother. “Thank you, mum, I'd be lost without you!” she quickly blurted as she passed by the washroom where her mother was toiling over a suit of light armor. “Uh-uh, come back here!” her mother called out, walking out of the washroom. Skylar walked back and gave her mother a tight embrace. “Your father would be proud,” her mother whispered. Skylar kissed her mother's cheek. “Thanks, mum. I'll be back later!” Skylar jogged down the narrow alley onto the Sapphire Exchange. She turned and entered the side entrance of The Quicksand. Skylar was waved down by a Midlander woman in the sitting area. Skylar sat with her, smiling and excited. “Glad to see you again, Miss McCloud. Thank you for agreeing to meet for an interview on such short notice!”

“Oh, it's fine, Ada! After your last piece on me got me so noticed, how could I say no?”

“Please, you're too modest! Your skills alone got you noticed well before we did an interview on you. So, from rags and quickly climbing to riches, how does it feel to know that you're on the cusp of greatness in the Coliseum's halls?”

Skylar couldn’t keep from smiling. “It's amazing! Knowing that I can be a great name like Raubahn Aldyn is something I never thought I'd actually achieve when I started. It's made things a lot easier at home with my mother.”

Ada's tone shifted from light-hearted to serious. “As you prepare for your bout tonight, what's going through your mind?”

“That I stay focused and prepared. Every opponent is a chance to get better!”

“But many are saying you've never faced an opponent like this!”

“It doesn't matter who the opponent is! I go in ready to fight and if I do down, I go down swinging!”

“Wonderful! I'm sure the audience with be thrilled to see it! However, you've got to be curious because I know I am; what do you think it is about you that made the Demon of the East come out of retirement?”

“I don't know, but I hope he's every bit the Demon I've seen when I would watch him fight. He's what inspired me, you know!”

The roar of the crowd sent chills down Xiran's spine. He could feel the energy of the people in the stands. Their lust for battle putting goosebumps on his skin. He was kneeling in the dressing room, meditating to clear his mind. His black, sleeveless vest was snug but didn't deter his movement. His pants were loose and comfortable, perfect for kicks. His boots were the same he wore into every fight, worn and broken in to allow for the best use of speed. He wore a pair of black Thavnarian gloves Niytshade gave him on their last outing. His fingertips rubbed against the fine material of the palm as he clenched his fists. The door of the dressing room opened and a familiar voice spoke. “Are you ready, boy?”

Xiran smiled at Johan's crass demeanor. “Always, old man.” Xiran stood and walked out.

Across the arena, Skylar finished strapping on her armor. Its blue shine was clean and flawless thanks to her mother's work. Skylar was excited and nervous. She had watched The Demon fight many times leading up to his final bout with Raubahn and wondered how she would fare against the man that stopped The Bull in his tracks. She took a deep breath as she triple checked her armor. Her mother had never seen Skylar be so meticulous. “If you tighten those straps any further, they'll break!” She lightly slapped Skylar's hand and handed over Skylar's sword. “This is what you need to worry about. Focus on your opponent, learn his movements-”

“And go in the for the win, just like Father would.” Skylar's heart raced with anticipation as she spoke. Skylar took her sword and picked up her shield from its stand. The door to the room opened and an attendant walked in. “Skylar, we're ready for you. M'Irena, you can follow me to the VIP area.” M'Irena gave Skylar a kiss on the forehead. “Good luck!” she said as she followed the attendant. Skylar walked to the arena, the roar of the crowd growing louder.

At the gate, she heard the crowd hush as the announcer took to the center of the ring. He spoke slowly, raising everyone's hairs as he spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to a very special main event! New blood seeks to reign supreme, while a former brawler comes to reclaim his glory of the ring! At the north gate...” The gate in front of Skylar sprung open.

“One of our newest, and most enticing combatants! She has a cute tail but every inch of her is dipped in brawn and ready to take down anyone that would underestimate her strength! The Pretty Cat of the City, Skylar McCloud!” Skylar walked out as the crowd cheered wildly. She held her shield up as she walked, focused on the gate across from her. This is it... she thought.

“And, at the south gate...a man that came from beyond the horizon. He walked into this ring with nothing but his knuckles and a fierce gaze. The only man to ever win without picking up a sword and one of the few to trade blows with The Bull of Ala Mhigo and remain standing! He is The Bare Knuckle Brawler! The Demon of the East! Xiran Rayne!” The south gate sprung open. Xiran stepped out with fists clenched. His lips pursed tight and his eyes trained on Skylar. The crowd exploded in cheer and Xiran heard none of it. He had one objective, and she stood in blue armor. Skylar took a quick few breaths and took to her stance. Shield in front, sword to her side and ready. Xiran moved his right foot behind him. His right hand by his face left extended and clenched. Skylar could swear she saw flames licking his hands. The announcer looked to each of them excitedly. “Combatants are ready!” He took a moment of pause and screamed out. 

“Fight!”

Xiran's feet exploded with electricity, charging forward. Skylar scarcely brought her shield up to block his hit. The impact pushed her backward, kicking dust as she slid on her feet. She could feel the dent his fist left in the shield affecting its balance. Alright then, you're strong, but so am I! she thought as she leaped forward with a downward slash. Xiran sidestepped, punching again but catching her shield. Her father's teachings worked on instinct. Every punch he threw either blocked or dodged, but in return, her sword swipes cut the air. Skylar couldn't pin down a fighting style, he fought differently than other Pugilists. She spun for a shield bash that met Xiran's shoulder. He recoiled and rolled forward, putting distance between them. He let out a chuckle as the crowd roared. Very well...we'll try something else! Xiran thought as he jumped over her. He gathered aether and shot it down on top of her. Skylar raised her shield in time to deflect the blast but didn't expect Xiran's fist to drop down on her shield again. The impact brought her to a knee. Xiran's foot caught the bottom of her shield and flung it sideways, leaving her open for a swift kick to the chest. The metal vibrated as she flew back. Hitting the ground winded her. As she looked up Xiran took a new stance and fire swirled around him. One word came to Skylar's mind. MONK.

Her father's words echoed as she got back up. “Monks are tenacious bastards, but they aren't invincible. They stay on the attack, using their brute force to overpower with secret techniques, but if you pay attention, they can be defeated...”

Skylar took to her feet and assumed her stance again. Her shield, dented and scraped, was up. She peered over the top to watch Xiran's movement. Xiran ran forward to strike. Skylar jumped back with a spin, throwing her shield. Xiran didn't expect such a bold maneuver and was caught in the gut. Skylar lunged and hit Xiran with the pommel of her sword. As he reeled back, Skylar took her shield and slammed Xiran with it again. Xiran scrambled to his feet while Skylar chased. She swiped his left leg, then his left arm, leaving deep cuts in both. She spun for another shield bash, but Xiran flipped over it, managing to land his heel on Skylar's cheek. Xiran followed up with a kick into Skylar's back. Skylar rolled forward, jumping and throwing her shield again. Xiran caught it with one hand, his gaze burning. Skylar couldn't tell if it was anger or determination but didn't care either way. Xiran tossed the shield aside and charged again with lightning. She couldn't block it, letting her armor take the brunt of the hit. Xiran connected a two jab combo into Skylar's face. She returned a backspin swing that cut into Xiran's side. Xiran was denting Skylar's armor, bruising her with every hit, while she turned his vest into leather ribbons and leaving cuts on his torso. After a long exchange of blows, They stood apart again. The combatants were heaving breaths, unable to get the upper hand on each other. Skylar had one more trick to try. She ran at Xiran as fast as she could muster, jumping into the air with her sword overhead pointed down. Xiran waited for the right moment to give one last full-force boot to the chest. Skylar hadn't failed, however. Her sword continued down far enough to drive into Xiran's leg, missing the bone and piercing straight through. Her hands let go of the sword as she flew backward. Time seemed to slow down until she hit the ground again. Xiran's last kick cracked her armor. It pushed in far enough she was having trouble breathing, on top of all the dents pushing into various other parts of her bust and abdomen. She struggled to roll onto her side so she could see her adversary. Xiran had hit the ground. His leg was unable to hold him up. He lifted his head to see her, and their eyes met. They both knew they had enough. Skylar rolled onto her back and Xiran's head dropped again. The audience was on its feet. The cheering was so loud the announcer didn't bother to try speaking over them. Chirurgeons went to both fighters and placed them on stretchers, taking them both to the infirmary of the Coliseum.

Xiran was on one end of the infirmary with Johan while Skylar was on the other with M'Irena behind a curtain. The chirurgeons healed up a majority of their injuries, but aches and soreness would plague them both for a time. Skylar's sword lay on the table by Xiran. Johan made sure the wounds were all sealed before pulling the Au Ra up. “I'm sure I still have some mint salve back at the apartment. Put some on tonight and you'll be right as rain by morning.” Xiran nodded at Johan but his attention went to the sword. “She moved in ways I hadn't seen before. No normal gladiator taught her how to fight,” he whispered to Johan. The old Monk nodded. “Aye, that was Corpse Brigade training, I know it. But you, you've trained with Holyfist and me. It may not have given you an edge, but it kept you in the fight well enough.” Johan patted Xiran's shoulder. “You did your forefathers proudly. Come, let's get you home.” Xiran gave a small smile. “Sure, just give me a moment,” he responded as he picked up Skylar's sword. Johan cleaned the blood off of it as Xiran was being nursed. “Aye, I'll see you outside.” Johan walked out as Xiran stood slowly, carefully carrying the blade with both hands. As he got closer he could hear Skylar reassuring her mother behind the curtain. “Mum, yes, I'm fine!”

“Are you though?! Look at all the bruises, you've never had a thrashing this bad since your father's training!”

“And I'm all the stronger for it, Mum! Did you see him? He was all covered in cuts!”

M'Irena scoffed at Skylar. “Oh just you wait, I'll make him eat his own horns! I'm going to find you some clothes, just stay here!” M'Irena pulled the curtain back and shrieked at seeing Xiran. “Gods, I apologize, I just wanted to return this since it was in my leg and all!” Xiran smiled sheepishly as M'Irena took the sword from him. “You're lucky I don't cut your bullocks off-”

“MUM!” Skylar called out from behind the curtain

“Alright, alright! You, don't you dare peek in on my daughter or I'll have gecko soup tonight!” Xiran stifled a chuckle as M'Irena huffed off, leaving the sword on Skylar's bed. Xiran pulled up a stool on the other side of the curtain. “How are you?” he asked Skylar.

“I'm fine, save for the bruises. How's your leg?”

“Fine, I'll live to fight another day. Who taught you how to handle a sword?”

“My father. He was a soldier in the Ala Mhigan army. Who taught you how to punch?”

“My grandfather. He was a Monk for the fist of Rhalgr...”

Skylar thought for a moment. “Does this make us enemies?”

Xiran pondered the question. “It doesn't have to. We don't have to fight the wars of our fathers. But it does mean if we meet in the ring again, I'll be ready for you.” He smiled as he finished.

Skylar chuckled. “That means I'll be ready for you too, you know.”

Xiran returned her chuckled as he stood. “I wouldn't have it any other way, Kitty.”

Skylar pulled the curtain over to poke her head out. “Watch yourself, Gecko!”

Xiran laughed as he walked away. Skylar took her sword in hand. She stood up, spinning her sword and pointed it at Xiran as he opened the door. “Next time, I'm winning!”

Xiran stopped and gave Skylar a smirk. “You can try!” He winked and closed the door behind him.

[SoTS Chronology]     [PREVIOUS] [@rikku287]

[xirelluniyt]

Catching Stars

     The moon shined as bright as the sun in the midnight sky. Crickets chirped in soothing harmony with the rivers flow. Reunion saw it's busiest moments during the day, but the Qestir kept a few traders on hand in the small hours of the evening for the Kagon tribe. These nocturnal Au Ra had wares from nighttime hunts that other tribes found valuable. Among them, a middle-aged Kagon woman looked through weapons for sale. She wore hunter’s garb typical of the Kagon. Lightweight and dark in color, she blended in to catch her prey in silence. She looked around to make sure her daughter followed, though paid little attention. “Chakha, over here!” a man called to her. She walked over to the next stall to find her daughter with a quartz stone bracelet in hand. With her stood the elder Auri man, his face aged by experience and the years spent toiling in the sun. “By the Mother, I swear one day someone is going to take you and I won't come looking!” The little girl recoiled at her mother's words. Chakah took the bracelet, handing it back to the Mol tribesman. “I'm sorry, Amal. It won't happen again.” Amal smiled at Chakha, his wrinkles showing. “It's not any trouble. I'm sure it's hard for you with your husband having passed last winter. One small trinket is hardly a loss.” He kneeled down and held the bracelet out to the girl. “It's alright, you can have it if you like.” The girl looked up at her mother, looking for permission. Chakha scoffed and tugged at the girl's shirt. “I don't have time for this! I have to find a new bow so I can catch up to the hunting party! Niytshade, you stay by me, understood?” Niytshade shook her head, afraid to speak. “Good, let's go!” Chakha carried on, pulling Niytshade. Amal waved goodbye to Niytshade with a somber expression. She waved back, struggling to keep up with her mother's stride.

     Chakha stopped at several more stalls, finally finding a suitable weapon. She began to haggle the trade with the stall owner as Niytshade looked around curiously. Her eyes wandered up to the stars. They looked like little jewels in the night sky. Jewels she wanted to make into necklaces for her mother so she would smile again. The child's eyes wandered more from the stars to the aetheryte with its soft blue glow. Beyond the aetheryte, she saw a sparkle in the grass reflecting the light of the crystal like the stars above. She looked around and saw her mother wasn't that far away. If I'm fast, I can catch the star for mommy! she thought. Niytshade quickly jogged as fast as her little feet could carry her to the sparkle. She kneeled to find a silver earring with a blood red ruby in the center. Where's your sister...? she thought. She looked around, spying another tell-tale sparkle. The young child thought of the smile that her mother would have when she brought back the find. She jogged and kneeled at the second sparkle. “Twins!” she called out, holding the earrings together. “Mother will love you!” Niytshade turned around to find Amal behind her. She felt her heart jump at the sight of him. Amal held his hands up, embarrassed. “Don't be frightened, young one, I'm sorry! I couldn't help but notice you were so far from your mother! Let's get you back to her, yes?” Niytshade held the earrings tight in her hands as she followed Amal.

     Chakha had finally acquired her tools after a painful argument with an Oronir blacksmith. She packed her arrows in her quiver and called to her daughter as she gathered her things at the edge of Reunion. After a second of silence, she grew nervous. “Niytshade? Damn it all, girl, I told you to stay by me!” she yelled as she walked towards the aetheryte, Her eyes darted from stall to stall looking for any sign of her child. “Help!” she heard weakly. Chakha looked to see Amal bleeding from his gut. Two Qestir guards and an Oronir warrior ran over to the old man's aid. Chakha ran over as well. Amal had been the only support she had after her husband's passing, even despite being from different tribes of the Steppe. “Who did this, Mol?” asked the Oronir warrior. “Foreigners,” Amal answered, coughing blood. “They ambushed me...took the young one I was bringing back to her mother...” He then noticed Chakha standing with them, shocked. Amal went to walk to Chakha but fell. His hemorrhaging was growing fatal. Chakha ran to his side, crying. He handed her a silver earring with a blood red ruby in the center. “I'm....I'm sorry...” he coughed out as blood dripped from his mouth. Chakha was stupefied. The Oronir gathered a pair of his allies and fanned out with a few Qestir men to search for the foreign attackers. Chakha ran back to her pack, took her bow and arrows and joined in on the search.

Niytshade came to in a caravan, laying on a pile of blankets. Her nose burned from whatever substance was on the cloth that was pressed on her face before she fell asleep. “There she goes,” said a gruff voice on the outside of the caravan. He was a tan man with a scar over his right eye. His eye was milky white while the other was so dark it seemed black. His hair was black and short. “She's up then, sire. Have a look.” The gruff man stood aside and a portly one took his spot. The portly man was well-to-do, with a handlebar mustache and rosy cheeks. His eyes lit up at the sight of the little girl. “My goodness, you're a wonderful specimen! If only I could find more of you to take home with me!” Niytshade looked at him in bewilderment. “Where's my mother?” she asked, still groggy.

“She sent you to me, young one! You're going to see new worlds and have a new life living with me!”

“Why?”

“Oh don't bother yourself with such frivolous details! Come, our boat awaits!”

“What...?” was all the young child could utter as the gruff man hopped inside and carried her out of the caravan. He sat her on a horse as the portly man wrapped a cloak around her neck. “My name is Sir Gunther, and don't you worry! You're going to be fine!” He lifted up a bracelet, shinier and more sparkly than she ever saw in the stalls of Reunion. He had to wrap it around her wrist twice to stay. “And there's more where that came from! You can have all the jewels you could want! You just have to do what I tell you, yes?” Niytshade took a moment to admire the bracelet before nodding her head. “That's a good girl! Off we go!” Sir Gunther walked the horse through a massive city. They crossed a large red bridge before reaching a trader's vessel on the dock. All Niytshade could think about was how she was going to get as many jewels as she could carry to take back home to her mother.

[SotS Chronology]   [PREVIOUS]

[cocoscabin]

Reblog if you will answer LITERALLY ANY anon questions.

[yxra-ia]

BRING IT ON

[galaxy-comics-deactivated202410]

Suurreeeee

[jadestormbrand]

Fire away!

[xirelluniyt]

Whatcha waiting for?

[feed-your-inbox]

Send a word for your muse to find my muse in a certain state.

Mostly angsty stuff, but feel free to add your own.

Tears - Find my muse crying.

Rest - Find my muse sound asleep.

Dream - Find my muse moving in their sleep due to a dream or nightmare.

Bleed - Find my muse injured.

Drink - Find my muse drunk.

Collapse - Find my muse blacked-out on the ground.

Leaving - Find my muse dying.

Grave - Find my muse dead.

Fear - Find my muse panicking about something.

Hide - Find my muse hiding from something or someone.

Anger - Find my muse very angry.

Escape - Find my muse trying to run away from something or someone.

Toxic - Find my muse poisoned.

Bruise - Find my muse badly beaten up. 

Freeze - Find my muse trying to keep warm in the cold.

Battle - Find my muse in the middle of a fight with someone or something.

Saw - Find my muse getting a limb amputated. 

Cough - Find my muse coughing out blood.

[xirelluniyt]

Xiran, Niytshade, or Johan

[robins-love-slave-blog]

Original Character ask meme - Psychology edition~

1: What’s your OC’s biggest insecurity and how would they react if someone pointed it out to them?

2: If your OC wants to buy a firearm, what it might be for?

3: Does your OC behave differently around different people, if so with whom and how?

4: Would your OC want to involve themselves in humanitarian work ? If yes, then for what? If not, then why not?

5: How would your OC generally react to someone being verbally abusive towards them for no apparent reason?

6: Does your OC have a realistic image of their own intelligence?

7: Does your OC have any irrational phobias?

8: How is/was your OC’s relationship with their parents?

9: Does your OC feel a pressure to achieve or are they content and calm with doing what they can at the moment?

10: Does your OC guard their emotions by being tough? If not how would they?

11: How would your OC react to hearing they’re adopted?

12: What is one of the most primary things your OC feels that is missing from their life?

13: What kind of situations does your OC avoid the most?

14: If your OC gets into a fight with their best friend, would they wait for their friend to make up with them, or would they try to make up with their friend?

15: Does your OC consider themselves a good person?

16: Is your OC good at giving others validation of their feelings and making them feel understood?

17: Does your OC suffer from any mental health issues?

18: What kind of intrapersonal values does your OC have? (values about their self, what makes them feel like a valid person)

19: What boosts your OC’s confidence the most?

20: Does your OC hurt others often unintentionally? If yes, how?

21: Does your OC hurt others often intentionally? If yes, how?

22: How does your OC usually show affection? Are they openly romantic or more restricted with their affectionate emotions?

23: Does your OC tend to hide something about their personality/essence when meeting new people? If yes, what?

24: How would your OC react if they got humiliated by someone in a group of people?

25: How would your OC process the grief caused by the death of a loved one?

26: What is the most intense thing your OC has been battling with?

27: Does your OC practise any kind of escapism? If yes, what kind?

28: How would your OC react if a bully stole their lunch money in high school?

29: How does your OC behave on the face of a conflict?

30: What makes your OC defensive quickest?

[xirelluniyt]

Please specify a character (Xiran, Niytshade, or Johan)!

[xirelluniyt]

The truest strength comes from your conviction...

[xirelluniyt]

Shades of the Night

“All right, my lovelies, a new day has begun! Let’s get those beds nice and fluffed, let Madame Sandra know if anything is needed, I’ll be in my office getting the books ready!” Sir Reginald shuffled through the hallways of the brothel. He knocked on doors as he passed to awake his employees. He stopped at the door to his office on the third and top floor. It overlooked a large courtyard with a giant palm tree in the middle that provided plentiful shade. He turned to the women coming out of their rooms and raised a hand in encouragement. “It’s a fine day, full of opportunity!” he shouted before disappearing into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Keep reading

[xirelluniyt]

reblog since i didn’t have a picture in the header when i posted. Enjoy!

[xirelluniyt]

Shades of the Night

“All right, my lovelies, a new day has begun! Let's get those beds nice and fluffed, let Madame Sandra know if anything is needed, I'll be in my office getting the books ready!” Sir Reginald shuffled through the hallways of the brothel. He knocked on doors as he passed to awake his employees. He stopped at the door to his office on the third and top floor. It overlooked a large courtyard with a giant palm tree in the middle that provided plentiful shade. He turned to the women coming out of their rooms and raised a hand in encouragement. “It's a fine day, full of opportunity!” he shouted before disappearing into his office and slamming the door behind him.

The women were diverse in race. Miqo'te, Roegadyn, Midlanders, Highlanders, even a few Lalafels. Madame Sandra, a Hellsguard woman, kept the women in line and their customers behaved. “Let's go, girls, you heard Sir Reginald! It's a new day!” she belted out. One by one they shuffled down the halls to one of the various bathing halls. The Madame walked up the stairs and to the northeast corner of the brothel where one large ornate door stood. She knocked on the door and took out a key unlock it. “Up, Niytshade!” She opened the door to see a young Xaela female on the end of her bed. The old man's favorite. A rare find that was brought to him by traders from Hingashi as a child. She toiled under Madame Sandra until her 16th anniversary of being at the brothel, where she was given a room and a new job. Sir Reginald called it a promotion.

Madame Sandra walked over to Niytshade and held her chin, inspecting her eyes. “Foo, you look like the seventh hell, love. Still can't sleep?” she asked with genuine concern. Sandra wasn't fond of her line of work, but it was work, and she cared for the women as if they were her kin seeing that most of them had none. Niytshade yawned as Sandra called for a bucket of warm water and a rag. She stood and stretched, her light blanket falling to the floor. Her form was stunning and even made the Madame jealous at times. The Au Ra's black scales and dark horns on porcelain made her an exotic favorite only available to the highest bidders. Niytshade picked the blanket back up and rubbed her green eye, the blue one still half open from little sleep. “It's those dreams again. That a tall, dark man saves me from a tower, takes me to a grass sea-”

“And you live happily ever after, I know, it never changes.” The bucket and rag were delivered and Sandra began washing the Au Ra. “Gods, I will never know how you get dirt under your nails all the time.”

Niytshade gave Sandra a puzzled look, “Oh? Maybe from tending to the palm?”

Sandra shot an angry look back at Niytshade. “And when would you be doing that when your room is always locked?”

“Well, not always. Sometimes Sir Reginald forgets at night and I like to tend to the flowers in the courtyard. They're the only pretty things I get to see in person...” Sandra sighed and tended to the dirt. Niytshade didn't dare tell the madame that she actually tried to sneak out the night before, as she usually does when Sir Reginald drinks too much and forgets to lock her door. The new guard, however, proved to be more sharp in sense than most. He had almost seen her a few days prior as she tried to see what all the girls were clamoring about.

Sandra continued from Niytshade's hands to the rest of her body. “Honestly, you're lucky no one ever hears you. Most of the girls are already jealous Sir Reginald's favorite that never has to fight for attention. Gods only know what would happen if they got a hold of you when no one was looking.”

Niytshade thought about the Madame's words for only a moment as she went back to thinking of the grass sea. The wide expanse of green over rolling hills and a giant sun. Sandra lightly slapped Niytshade's bare butt as she finished scrubbing, snapping the Au Ra from her daydream. “Right then, ring the bell if you need something, as always. Get dressed quick, too. You have your first appointment soon as we open.” Sandra took the rag and bucket and closed the door behind her as she left. Niytshade walked over to her large closet, opening the doors to reveal a menagerie of dresses. She moved one after the other until she settled on a loose Thavnarian silk sundress. She always tried to go choose the ones that were easiest to take off. Most clients didn't like to waste time once they saw what they were paying for.

No sooner was she done applying her make-up did the courtyard bell ring. It was the Madame's way to call the girls from their rooms and line up for their clients. Niytshade rose from her chair in front of a large mirror and stood by the post of her over-sized canopy bed in a sultry position. The door opened slowly and a young Lalafel man walked in. He has to be no older than eighteen summers. Likely one of Lolorito's lackeys that just had a name day, Niytshade thought. She spoke in a calm tone as she sat with legs crossed to not intimidate the youth. “Welcome, sir. Today is your lucky day...” The young Lalafel chuckled nervously as he closed the door behind him.

Tonight she would finally have her freedom. Sir Reginald went home drunk and left Niytshade’s door unlocked once again. She prepared her usual trousers and long silk blouse, both black to match her cloak, and a small coin purse. The oversized hood kept her horns hidden. She slipped on a pair of moccasins and carefully walked out of her room. The new guard had finally been given a night free after a straight week of duty. His relief, one of Sir Reginald’s nephew’s, was drunk in a chair by the palm. His chest could barely rise as he snored. Niytshade walked carefully. Her dainty feet floated across the floor, softened by the soft leather moccasins. At the banister, she took another look around. Fat man in the chair, no one else around, perfect chance! she pondered victoriously. She snuck her way down the stairs. She descended slowly, careful not to make the wood creak. On the floor, she carefully pulled the latch of the door and slipped out. She took a deep breath once she was out. It smelled like food billowing from a cart in the Sapphire Avenue. She trotted over and watched as people approached and left each stall on the strip. It was enough at times for her to know that there was a world beyond her window. One where she belonged. A dancing troupe appeared from the Gate of Thal, playing music on lutes and flutes. Niytshade followed as they passed, careful to not be noticeable. 

She followed them down to the Quicksand, where she admired the adventurers lingering. Do they ever see a grass sea like I dream about? she pondered. She took to following the troupe again to the Ruby Road Exchange. There she broke away from the music and looked around the stalls. Niytshade enjoyed searching for new trinkets to add to her collection. A jade comb caught her eye after a moment of looking. She picked it up, admiring its pure shade of green. “A beautiful piece for a beautiful young lady,” cried the Lalafelin shopkeep. Niytshade was taken aback. “I’m sorry, I was only looking,” she replied nervously.” 

“Not to fret, milady! I merely meant to point out that you have good taste! That piece hails from the Far East!”

Niytshade listened curiously. “The Far East?”

“Right you are, where you’ll find the Shinobi of Doma and the grass seas of the Azim Steppe! Since you’ll likely be my last customer tonight, I’ll part with it for just fifteen gil. What say you?”

Niytshade showed no hesitation in pulling out her coin purse. She dropped the coins one by one into the smiling Lalafel’s open hands. As she dropped the coins he noticed the scales on her hands. He looked at them curiously. Niytshade noticed his gaze and grew anxious. “Thank you!” she said and hurried off deeper into the city. She ran until she realized she didn’t recognize her surroundings. Niytshade caught her breath under a lamp post. She waited until she was calm before deciding down an alley that she hoped would lead her somewhere she knew. 

The alley was dark save for the moonlight. Small squares of light came from the apartments she walked past. Ahead she noticed a left turn before a dead end. A trio of surly-looking men was being boisterous past the turn. Just keep your head down and keep walking, Niytshade thought to herself. One of the men noticed her as she approached. “Oy, you lost lass,” he asked her with a smirk, leaving his seat atop a crate. He was bald and covered in dirt. He wore slops and a rated pair of worker’s boots. The other two were dressed the same way. One with his hair in a bandana, the other with messy hair. Just keep walking, she thought again, picking up her pace. “I think she just ignored ya, Cybil,” chuckled another of the men. Cybil cut Niytshade off. “Oy! I said, are you lost? Or are you just a bitch,” he asked snidely. Niytshade stepped back wanting to turn away but the other men had already cut off her escape. She held her comb close. “I-I’m sorry, I’m just trying to get home,” she whimpered. Cybil grabbed her arm harshly. “No worries, lass! We can help you, but we’ll need something from ya first...” He went to take off her hood and she backed away. “Oy!” he yelled and slapped her, making her tumble into the man with a bandana. The comb fell out of her hands. “Hold her over, Hector!” Cybil commanded. Hector grabbed the back of her head and pushed her against the wall of the alley. Niytshade cried out in resistance, but Hector proved too strong for her. “Keep an eye out, Trevor,” Cybil said. The messy haired man took a position by the turn that Niytshade wished she could have gotten to. Cybil kicked her legs apart. “Let’s see what this one is made of...” he said as he licked his lips. Niytshade began to cry.

Down the alley, a door suddenly opened. A tall figure walked out with a pouch, carrying on a conversation as he walked out. “So boil the roots then, yeah?” the man said. Inside the door, an old woman nodded and waved him goodbye. “Plesant evening!” he said as he smiled and waved back. He turned and saw the scene before him. Niytshade struggled to turn her head in Hector’s hand. She could barely make out his height and long black hair. She thought she might have been hit too hard on the head when she noticed a dim green glow where his eyes should be. “Cybil, whats going on here?” he asked, nonchalantly.

“None of your damn business, gecko!” Cybil answered angrily. 

“Oh, I think when you have someone pressed against a wall, it very much becomes my business. Also resorting to name-calling just means you want me to beat you to a pulp.”

“Trevor!” Cybil yelled. Trevor took out a knife from his boot and charged. The man dropped his pouch and caught Trevor’s wrist. He twisted and flipped Trevor over, dropping Trevor hard on his back. He kicked Trevor in the chin and knocked him out. Hector let go of Niytshade, his face in terror. “Tousling with the Demon, it’s not worth it, mate!” Hector said before turning and running away. Niytshade dropped to the floor, watching as the tall figure struck fear in Cybil. Cybil stood frozen for a moment as The Demon came closer. Running was useless, but Cybil tried anyway. A flash of lightning sprung from The Demon’s feet and he rammed his shoulder into Cybil’s back. Cybil’s breath left his body. The Demon flipped over Cybil. As he landed, he used his momentum to hurl Cybil into the crate at the end of the alley. The crate broke as if it was made of sticks. The Demon brushed his hands off with a satisfied “Hmmph.” He walked back to Niytshade. “Are you alright Miss-” he stopped as he felt something strange under his shoe. He moved his foot to find the jade comb. He picked it up and held it, offering his other hand to help her up. “Are you alright?” he asked again, more gentle. Niytshade took his hand, awestruck by his strength as he helped her up. “Yes...,” she answered timidly. Her head barely reached the top of his abdomen. He wore a red shirt that was open halfway down his chest over black slops and boots. It was now that she noticed his horns. “Who are you?” she asked, bewildered.

He smiled at her question. It was hard to find someone in Ul’Dah that didn’t know his name. “I’m Xiran, Miss...?”

“Oh! I’m Niytshade.” She bowed to him cordially. 

“Please, no need to bow! I’m not anyone special,” he said sheepishly. He held out her comb, brushing it off lightly. “I imagine this is yours?”

Niytshade put her hands on the comb, holding them in his for a moment. “You are, you saved me. I should thank you properly...” Niytshade pushed his hand aside gently, placing her hands on his hips and pressing her chest against him. Xiran’s face turned red. “Uh, wait, what?” he responded in shock. He placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to push her off. “I assure you, thanks in a word is just fine!” Xiran’s voice quivered slightly. Niytshade was surprised. She never met a man that turned her away. Oh, Gods...did he see? she thought frantically. She stepped away from him, checking for tears in her hood. Xiran watched in confusion. “I’m sorry, sir. I know I’m strange-looking, I just wanted to repay your kindness.”

Xiran chuckled briefly. “I seriously doubt you could be any more strange than me. Unless you have black horns and scales all over your body, which I have never seen on anyone else, then you couldn’t possibly be-” Niytshade took off her hood, revealing her face and horns. Xiran was astonished. 

“Oh...”

The two Au Ra sat on a bench at the far end of the Ruby Exchange. The dancing girls were gone for the night, and the shops long since closed. Niytshade fiddled with the comb in her hands. Xiran could still hardly believe that there had been another Au Ra in Ul’Dah and never knew about it. “Rumors, sure, but each time the idea of a person with black horns surfaced, everyone just circled back to me,” he said. 

“Not too many people know about me. Those that do are too scared of my employer to say anything,” she replied. “I supposed your open popularity only kept mine hidden.”

“Evidently! When did you get here?”

“I was very young. Maybe five summers old? I’ve been in Ul’Dah for seventeen, though.”

“Goodness. I’ve been here for about fifteen. I left home when I was three.”

“Do you remember home?” Niytshade leaned in, her interest piqued.

“Fondly...We lived in Yangxia, just down the road from the Palace. I could see it from my bedroom window every day.”

“Were there grass seas?”

“In Yangxia? Not really. The only place I could think of that would have anything of that sort is the Azim Steppe.”

Niytshade squealed happily. “Yes! That’s what the shopkeep said! How big are they? Is there a giant sun?!”

Xiran laughed. “I don’t know, I’m sorry! I’ve only seen the paintings my mother had of the Steppe. The plains look quite large though.”

“Aww,” Niytshade whimpered dejectedly. 

“Well, maybe one day we’ll go there! We can find our families and see the entire Steppe!” Xiran suggested, trying to cheer her up. 

“I...I can’t,” Niytshade answered sadly. 

“Why not?”

“My employer, it’s all I’ve ever known. I barely ever leave my room, let alone the city.”

“What is it that you do, exactly?”

Niytshade turned away from him, embarrassed. “I...service clients.”

“So you take orders at the Quicksand? I doubt Mimodi would have issues with anyone leaving.”

“No, I don’t work for Mimodi.”

“So like a dancing girl? You’re very pretty, I bet you make a lot of gratuities!”

Niytshade smiled. “Thank you, but no, I don’t dance. At least-”

Xiran looked perplexed. “So you don’t take orders, and you don’t dance...” Xiran put a hand to his chin. “Then that means...”

Niytshade braced for his revelation. “You’re a delivery girl!” He exclaimed, confidently. Niytshade burst into laughter, which was short-lived. “Maybe I should just show you.” She stood and took his hand. Xiran followed in tow, curious and unsure.

At the brothel, Xiran was still confused. “Do you know this place?” Niytshade asked.

“Yes, I work here. I guard the door at night. I’ve never seen you, though,” he answered, even more confused.

“Well, that’s because I work inside. Servicing clients.”

“Servicing- Ohhh. Ohhhh...That explains a lot,” he answered, feeling stupid. Niytshade patted his arm to console with a giggle. “So you sneak out every night?”

“Only when the Master leaves my door open.”

“And since I had started, I’ve been keeping you from sneaking out?” 

“To be fair, you’re very intimidating.”

“I try not to be...”

Niytshade took one of his hands, tracing the veins on the back. “With such strength, it must take a lot of effort.” She closed his hand, smiling at him. Xiran smiled back warmly. “So what now, Sir Night Guard?” 

Xiran thought for a moment. “Go inside, get some sleep. If you need anything then leave me a note under the door when the last client leaves. We can’t have you getting hurt like you almost did tonight.”

Niytshade smiled at his concern. “I think you’re right. I don’t think I’ll want to sneak out for some time, now that I know you.” She hugged him unexpectedly. Xiran blushed as he smiled, hugging her back. “Do you think we could see home one day?” she asked.

“I think now we have a duty to see that plan through, for both our sakes. We’ll figure out a way for you to leave here, and then we’ll go from there.” Niytshade smiled with hope. “I feel you’re right.” She walked to the door and quietly opened it. Xiran smiled and nodded, mouthing the words “Good night” to her. Niytshade smiled back and gave a small wave as she closed the door. He waited until he heard the latch engage before making his way home to Little Ala Mhigo. Dawn greeted him along the walk as he thought of his new friend and a new connection to home. 

[SotS Chronology]     [Previous]

[xirelluniyt]

Career Paths

The roar of the crowd didn't register in Xiran’s mind. All that mattered was his opponent. The match felt like it had carried for an eternity as he tried to find a weakness. Xiran’s fists clenched. He charged forward at the man who donned a large metal shoulder guard in the shape of a bull. His fists swung precisely, but only pushed air as his opponent dodged. The Bull swung back with massive swords, one in each hand. Xiran side-stepped. He felt the wind and heard the blades slice through the air. Their exchanges were empty until he kicked the Bull in the stomach, launching him backward. One of The Bull’s swords scraped a horn during his launch. He saw a lock of his long black hair fall to the ground. 

“A close shave from The Bull of Ala Mhigo to The Demon of the East! This fight is nerve-racking!” the announcer yelled through the Coliseum. The crowd yelled louder as Xiran rubbed his thumb over the fresh carve on his horn. The Bull lived up to his reputation. Xiran charged again. The Bull poised his swords, but Xiran jumped high. The Bull didn’t have much reach above his head. Xiran took a slash to his thigh to bring his fist crashing down on the Bull’s helmet. The metal resonated from the impact. The Bull staggered back. Xiran chased and kicked upward, hitting the Bull in the chin and knocking off his helmet. Xiran stepped back as he landed, fists still ready. The Bull shook his head, regaining his senses. With a roar, The Bull rushed at Xiran. Xiran replied with a roar of his own, charging as well. The Gladiators met with a crash, dust flying around them from the impact. The crowd cheered wildly, unable to see the commotion in the cloud. As the dust settled, the men stood in the center of the ring. Xiran was covered in gashes as he held his hand around the Bull’s throat. The Bull had visible bruises on his face, his left eye swelling and his sword to Xiran’s neck. Their gazes met, and The Bull could see the ferocity in the glow of Xiran's eyes. “You fight with the heart of a griffin. Is Ala Mhigo in your blood, young one?” The Bull could scarcely utter as his lip swelled.

“My father...,” Xiran answered through heavy breaths.

The Bull chuckled hoarsely, slowly withdrawing his blade from the Au Ra’s neck. Xiran loosened his grip on the Bull. They took a step back from each other and bowed in respect. The crowd cried out, ecstatic and blown away. “It’s a draw! What a spectacle!” the announcer yelled over the crowd. “Raubahn Aldynn, The Bull of Ala Mhigo! Xiran Rayne, The Demon of the East! Men without equal!” Xiran laughed as he waved to the crowd. Raubahn patted the Au Ra’s back in approval. “Keep this up, and you could make something of yourself in here,” he suggested. 

Xiran smiled warmly at the idea. “Thank you, but this was to be my last match to make room for more steady work.”

Raubahn nodded. “Very well, young one, but don’t ever lose your heart. I’m sure your father would be proud to see the warrior you’ve become.”

“I can only hope,” Xiran replied solemnly. Raubahn smiled and raised the Au Ra’s arm, the two of them basking in the crowd.

Xiran stood in mild embarrassment, his body open and exposed save for his small clothes as the attendants saw to his cuts. Johan sighed, almost nostalgic. “What troubles you, old man?” Xiran asked sarcastically, trying to take his mind off of the hands rubbing salve on his wounds. “This place,” he answered sadly, dusting off his sleeveless robes. “So many victories and defeats felt in this dirt, it’s almost sad to leave it all.”

“After years of fighting, I’d thought you’d be happy to finally be able to stop,” Xiran replied quizzically.

“Fighting is all I’ve known, boy. From the Reach to the Coliseum, it’s kept us alive this long. To be brought to the point of being a bodyguard almost feels like failing.”

“Sir Reginald is paying us handsomely for it, though.”

“That pile of blubber wastes our skills guarding caravans and property.” Johan’s voice bore a hint of disgust.

“Gods only know where we’d be if he hadn’t picked us up in Fringes.” 

Johan sighed. “And you’ll keep bringing that up as long as it quiets me won’t you, Demon of the East?”

Xiran wasn’t fond of the moniker. “Damn right, you old fool.”

Johan growled. “Just meet me at the brothel at sunset. Do try to learn some respect along the way.” 

“Love you too, old man,” Xiran chuckled as Johan left the room. The attendants finished their work, but one stayed behind. Xiran blushed as he dressed, feeling the miqo’te girl’s eyes examining him. He buttoned his pants with his back turned to her as he spoke. “I-is there anything else you need?”

The girl chuckled at his question. “Just want to wish you luck. I’ll miss wrapping you up after a fight.” She gave his tail a quick tug as she walked away giggling. Xiran quickly finished dressing up, his Auri harness snug against his chest. He walked out of the room to find a crowd of spectators clapping and cheering, wishing him well as he walked into the streets of Ul’dah. 

The afternoon brought Xiran a well-deserved nap before starting the first guard shift. Sir Reginald had requested Xiran and Johan become bodyguards for his various endeavors in lieu of sponsorship in the Coliseum. He claimed it was more profitable for all of them. 

Xiran stood outside of the ornate gold and green door of the brothel, watching as the patrons walked out. After sunset, only special guests and “very important persons” were allowed inside. Johan stepped out from the brothel with a wrapped package. Xiran raised an eyebrow and Johan shot his curiosity down with a scoff. “Please, I’ve never had to pay for it, I wouldn’t start now,” Johan said sternly. Xiran shrugged. “Who am I to judge,” he asked with a smile. Johan mocked Xiran’s attitude as he threw the package into the Au Ra’s arms. “Eighteen summers old, and you think you know everything, don’t you?” 

“Well, certainly not everything,” he answered in curiosity as he caught the package. “What’s this?”

“Sir Reginald decided you can’t guard his most profitable venture without looking more presentable. Go inside, the Madame will show you to a room to get changed. And keep your hands to yourself.” 

Xiran wondered about the last part as he entered. He walked into a wide courtyard with a massive palm tree in the middle. Not a moment inside and he could see why Johan gave him his final instruction. The women inside were gorgeous, and they were all staring at him. Some of them looked with bewilderment, others with a familiar sort of curiosity. He could hear whispers as he looked around, walking towards the palm in the center of the courtyard. “Who is that...Those scales...Could he be related to...” 

“So you’re the new guard, I take it?” The sudden bark in the silence made Xiran jump in his shoes. He turned to see a Roegadyn woman, tall as he and just as muscular. He’d never seen one with so little clothing. She wore a white silk sash that barely covered her breasts and a yellow silk long skirt that he could almost see through. He remembered his purpose and spoke hurriedly “Um, yes, sorry! I was told to change...” 

She smiled as he spoke. “Gods, you must be a virgin. Mayhap I can convince the Master to let one of the girls make an honest man out of you. I’m Madame Sandra, follow me.” He spoke as they walked. “I’m not-”

“Save it, I’ve heard it all before. Whatever machismo you want to say to save your hide means nothing to me. You’re here to do a job and that’s that.” She stopped in front of a room and turned to him. “Hurry up, I need this room for a guest in twenty minutes. Chop chop, handsome.” He hurried into the room and quickly undressed. Upon tearing open the package he could hardly believe what he saw. He held up a black Eastern Lord’s togi. The fabric looked new but didn’t feel stiff as he put it on. He smoothed out the folds and decided to check his suspicions. He lifted the front sash. Finding the hidden pocket nearly drew him to tears. Xiran’s father had a habit of hiding little candies in the pocket to satiate his sweet tooth at gatherings. Damn it, old man... he thought, quickly putting on the rest of his clothes; black trousers with white in-laid fabric on the thighs and white archaeoskin boots. The final pieces were a pair of malleable gold chains that wrapped around his arms. The chain for the left arm sported a large flair piece. Xiran thought it looked like a wing, which went with the dragon design on the back of the togi. He fought back tears again as he thought of his father. One day, this togi will be your’s, and you’ll look as majestic as the dragon that flies on it...

Xiran gathered his effects and walked out of the room. The ladies that were still walking about stared at him again, this time in pleasant approval. “Mmm, are you here for me, handsome?” asked a blonde miqo’te as she walked with a midlander compatriot. “Why not both of us?” giggled the midlander. Xiran chuckled nervously as he walked back to the palm. He folded up his clothing, sensing someone else was staring at him. He could see the ladies on the first floor. There were a few on the second. Looking up to the third floor, he could make out a silhouette but was interrupted by the Madame again. “Now that’s much better! Even with the horns, you’re still able to turn heads for the right reasons and no one would suspect you’d kick them into the Seven Hells. I’ll take these...” She took the clothes and pointed him to the front door. “Go to your post, Johan has the list. After the last one comes in, no one else does; after he leaves no one else does. Simple, yeah?” Xiran nodded and she smiled again. “Oh, do lighten up. No need for such a handsome man to be sour. I’ll definitely have to ask the Master to let you have a girl.”

“Uh- I- It’s not really-” Xiran could barely utter a word in response. 

“Just teasing, love! Out you go!” She slapped his butt and walked off. Xiran took a breath to calm himself, looking back up at the third floor. The silhouette was gone. He walked out the door to see Johan standing with arm’s crossed. “Was this your idea?” he asked.

Johan turned and smiled slightly. “After the Fist fell, I had a message sent to an old friend of mine. I had asked if he could find anything left of your family’s belongings. Besides heaping piles of ash, he found the togi buried under rubble and half burnt.” Johan examined the togi, brushing off the Au Ra’s shoulders. “I asked Sir Reginald if he would be able to have it restored, as a gift for your retirement from the Coliseum.”

“I only fought for a year,” Xiran scoffed back.

“Perhaps, but thanks to your exemplary progress with Holyfist, and what I could manage to teach you in my old age, we’re bodyguards. It’s not the most exciting work, nor do I like the idea of working for that sack of wine, but you’re right. I’m not getting any younger.” Johan put on a hand on Xiran’s shoulder. “It’s probably not the future your parents may have wanted for you, but I think they cared more to make sure you had a life you built with your own hands. At least I could deliver that for them, and you.”

“Thank you, Johan,” Xiran said in a low tone. Johan gave Xiran’s shoulder a light punch. “Think nothing of it, you earned it. Now, here’s the list. I’m off to escort a caravan to The Black Shroud.” Johan turned and walked towards the Gate of Thal.

“Don’t work too hard!” Xiran yelled after Johan. The old monk turned around. “We’re Ala Mhigans, hard work is all we know!” he called back raising a fist. Xiran smiled, opening the list and reading the names on it. 

[NEXT]   [SotS Chronology]     [PREVIOUS]

[writing-prompt-s]

Your wife changes her hair color every season and her personality adjusts slightly. You’re secretly only in love with Autumn wife. She just came home sporting her Winter color.

[inkskinned]

it’s my fault. it’s just that when we met it was autumn; her red-orange hair and crackling laughter. there’s a little spooky in her, a lot of play. and what a better time for falling?

i didn’t realize it for the first few years - something shifting, something so subtle. the winter makes us all cold, the summer makes us all a little out of our minds. i just loved her, because she was incredible, and i was the luckiest person alive.

it’s just that i realized that spring came with sudden bursts of cold. it’s just that summer frequently raged in with fire sprouting from her lips. it’s just that winter was the worst of all, her eyes dead. it’s just that autumn loves me different; throws herself into it without the clingy sweat of summer. i used to love that summer girl, you know? i loved how wild she was, the way in summer she took every risk she could. but i carried her home drunk one too many times, cleaned up one too many of the messes she made for no reason than to enjoy the sensation of burning. and winter was worse; the shutdown, the isolation. how she became distant, a blizzard, caught up in her own head, unable to tell me what was wrong and unable to think i actually wanted to listen.

she comes home, her hair bleached white. a dark smile on her lips. the shadowy parts of her are back. they loom like icicles overhead. she kisses me with her body held at a distance, a peck on my cheek that feels like an iceberg. she makes polite conversation and we go to bed early, our bodies untouching. 

it is a lonely season, i think on the ninth day of this. winter is cold. winter is known for the death of things. when i look at her, i see the girl i fell for, inhabited by an alien. she was the first women i loved so much i felt it would kill me. i can’t leave. when i wake her up with my crying, she tells me to shush and go back to sleep. she’s different like this, quiet, doesn’t eat. 

three days later i stare at myself in the mirror. i wonder if it’s me. if the fat on my body or something in my face or the wrinkles and she doesn’t love me. i try prettier lingerie, lean cuisine, i try different hair, more makeup, try harder. it doesn’t work. she looks at me the same; that empty gaze that neither loves nor condemns my actions. 

somewhere in februrary i lose it. we’re fighting again, from car to restaurant to car to home again. we fight about stupid things, small things; i tell her i feel she doesn’t love me, she says i’m not listening. the circle goes around and around, old pain peeling back, new pain unhealing. i sleep on the couch.

i wake up when i hear her crying, white hair around her all messed up. the kind of sobbing that only comes at two in the morning, heavy and thick and hurting. my winter girl. my heart is breaking. she looks up at me like i’m her anchor. “i’m sorry i’m like this,” she says. and i start saying, it’s okay i’m here we’re married, but she just shakes her head and says, “I know this isn’t the real me.”

i hold her cold hand. she stares at the blankets. “i am different in winter,” she whispers, “i know i am and i’m sorry.” she looks at me. “why do you think i dye my hair? cut it off? get rid of the old me?”

i tell her it’s okay. we’re together and it’s okay, and then she whispers, “i’m sorry you married four of me.”

we lay there like that, her head on my chest. she falls asleep. i stare at the ceiling, thinking of the way she sounded when she was crying. how i helped put her in that pain. how i promised in sickness and in health and everything in between.

the next day i spend at the library. there aren’t enough books on how to love someone with seasonal affective disorder so i make my own, notes and pages and little ideas on post-its. and i take a deep breath and make myself a promise.

she comes home to her favorite dinner and we kiss and she’s uneasy but that’s okay. the next day i bring home flowers and the next day she finds little love notes in her pockets. i love her quiet, the way winter demands, understand her sex drive is faltering; spend more time just cuddling. we drink wine and we kiss and some part of her starts relaxing. 

the truth is there is no loving someone out of their mental illness. the truth is that you can love someone in despite of it; love them loud enough to give them an excuse to believe they can make their way out of it.

and i learn. i remember the rebirth of spring, when she starts thawing. we kiss and have picnics in pretty dresses. i remember her joy at little birds and her rain dancing. i fall in love with the flowers in her cheeks and the little bursts of cleaning. i fall in love with summer’s slow walks and milkshakes and shouting to music playing too loud on the speakers. i fall in love with her dancing, with the sunfire energy. and when winter comes; i am ready. i remember that snow used to look pretty. i fall in love with the hearth of her, with the holiday, with the slow smile that spreads across her face so shyly. i fall in love with how she looks in boots and mittens and every day i find another reason to love her the way she deserves - they way i always should have.

she comes home with her white hair and dark smile and a package in her hands. i ask to see what it is and that small shy grin comes creeping out. it’s a sunlamp packed in with medication. she looks at me with those wide eyes and that beautiful winter blush. “i’m trying to get better,” she whispers, “i promise.”

recovery doesn’t look immediate. sometimes it isn’t neat. i can’t say we never fight or that we’re suddenly complete. but each day, that tiny girl’s strength gives me another reason. i love her. i love her while she tames the roller coaster of spring; i love her for reigning in the summer storms; i love her for taking her winter and trying to be warm. it is hard, because everything worth it is hard. she spreads out her autumn leaves; mixes the best parts of her into everything. learns to take winter’s silence for a moment before yelling in summer. learns to take autumn’s spice and give it to spring. we are both learning.

one day she comes home and her hair is different, but it’s a style i don’t know. i kiss it and tell her that she’s beautiful and the inside of me swells like a flood. i’m so glad that she’s mine. every part of her. the whole. i am the luckiest person on earth. and i always have been. but she’s hugging me and saying, “thank you for helping me,” and i can’t explain why i’m crying.

this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.

this is what love looks like in an autumn girl: it is winter and she glows.

[sarahakele]

I’m actually sobbing jesus christ

[whyisthisfrenchguymasturbating]

my heart is aching??? this is gorgeous

[imjustbeingfriendly]

Wow. Worth the read, don’t scroll.

[bannableoffense-deactivated2018]

This is everything.

Everything about how to love.

[mr-prism]

I was not prepared

[mindlevelzero-deactivated202208]

Nor was I.

“this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.”

[hypdom-deactivated20180116]

Honestly, if you scrolled… Go back up and read it.

[clearnutartisan-deactivated2019]

I’ve read this again and again, and it just wrecks me every time.

[writing-prompt-s]

This is beyond beautiful. Thanks for doing this prompt @inkskinned

[aetherochemistry-deactivated202]

FFXIV Screenshot Meme

Send a symbol and I’ll give a screenshot for it!  (Note: some folks may not be able to take screenies of their muses to suit the prompt, so editing is allowed and encouraged for those who are so inclined.)

[I’m not a meme blog, and these memes I make are just as much for me as they are for you!] 

Send 🛡️ to see my muse in their current tank glamour(s)

Send 🔨 to see them in their current DoH glamour(s)

Send ⛏️ to see them in their current DoL glamour(s)

Send ⚔️ to see my muse in their current melee DPS glamour(s)

Send ✨ to see them in their current caster glamour(s)

Send 👗 to see them in a fancy dress

Send 👙 to see them in their underwear

Send 💖 to see them in their favourite outfit(s)

Send 👘 to see them in an outfit traditional to their culture

Send 🎩 to see my muse in their favourite headpiece

Send 👕 to see my muse in their favourite top

Send 🧥 to see my muse in their favourite coat

Send 👖 to see my muse in their favourite bottoms

Send 👢 to see my muse in their favourite pair of shoes

Send 🔫 to see my muse with their favourite weapon(s)

Send 💄 to see them in their going-out attire

Send 👀 to see them in something suggestive

Send 💍 to see them wearing an expensive outfit

Send 🎮  to see them in a cosplay of the mun’s choice

Send 🎀  to see them in a cute outfit

Send 🛌 to see them in their PJ’s/Sleep attire

Send 👎 to see them in something they’d never wear

Send 👾 for them posing with their favourite minion/pet(s)

Send 🌦️ to see them out in their favourite kind of weather

Send 🏖️ to see them in their favourite climate(s)

Send 🏠 to see them in their home or place of origin

[xirelluniyt]

Just Xiran for now, more characters will be made available as they come up on story (my old format with Elora, Niytshade, and Luna has changed)

[xirelluniyt]

Into the Fire

Xiran and HIro had finally begun to sleep after crying for what seemed to be a lifetime. The news that their mother had died so soon after arriving in Eorzea broke their hearts. Hiro withdrew into silence. Xiran couldn't stop asking questions that Johan didn't have the answers to. The old monk had little experience with children, often asking the boy to stay quiet just to hear himself think about the last six questions he was asked on the way to Rhalgr's Reach. Johan stood outside the door to the room he had secured for the children. He listened as their silent sniffles turned to steady, deep breathing. He took a step back from the door and sighed, hanging his head.

 Another monk walked up to Johan, a much younger Highlander female with long black hair and a scar across the bridge of her nose. Her features were sharp and strong as the muscles she bore. Her ice blue eyes met Johan's with a nod, holding extra blankets in her arm. She went to the door but Johan stopped her. “They just fell asleep not too long ago, best leave them be,” he whispered. She stood back and crossed her arms, a sad look on her face. “Those poor boys, to have lost so much in so little time...”

“They'll be fine, as long as we keep them safe,” Johan reassured.

“Will they be trained?” she asked in return.

“A good question that I wish I had an answer to, Selene,” Johan answered, pensively. “I doubt their parents had any inkling to have them trained in any art. Hiro has his daggers, but good luck finding anyone here that knows the Shinobi arts. Xiran, he's far too young. Perhaps, in a few years, they can decide for themselves.” He thought back to Himari's last words, wondering how serious she was.

“So what happens for now?”

“We keep them safe, as I said. We owe their father a debt. Kyland's dealings with the Garleans in Doma and Kugane gave him insight into the Garlean infiltration of Ala Mhigo. We need to begin investigating as soon as possible.”

“What did he give us, exactly?”

“Correspondence from Garlean spies detailing plans of invasion, I read them on the ship. The Garleans seem ready to pounce, but something is holding them back. We need to know what that is.”

“With Theodric's insanity at its peak, that will be very difficult. Perhaps we'd be better off leaving here, getting the boys as far away as possible,” Selene's tone took a serious turn. Johan became annoyed at the notion.

“You doubt the power of The Fist? Theodric would certainly be mad to even try attacking us.”

“With his claim to be Nymeia's chosen and banning worship of Rhalgr, does it really seem so far-fetched? He's putting a target on our backs. I don't think it's safe here for anyone as long as Theodric draws breath.”

Johan thought hard about Selene's words. He sighed and gave her a stern look. “I'd tell you to watch your tongue, but you make a good point. In the morrow, I'll have a word with the elders about taking them elsewhere. It'll take a while to figure out where to take them, but I'm sure we can figure something out.” He sat on a small wooden chair by the door of the room, his old bones starting to settle. Selene put a hand on his shoulder. “Why don't you let me keep watch tonight? You've had a long three months at sea, I'm sure you'd like to sleep in a real bed.” Johan growled lightly in admittance.

“Very well, but if they need anything you make sure to attend to them right away.”

Selene smiled at the old monk's concern. “For a jaded warrior, you certainly care for them,” she teased.

“If you knew what the Rayne Clan once meant to this order, you'd be more concerned as well.” Selene looked at Johan with curiosity. “I'll tell you in the morning, it's late and you're right, I would like a bed for once.” He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. The boys were sleeping still, the comforter rising and falling rhythmically to their breathing. He closed the door and looked at Selene, nodding. She smiled and nodded back. Johan walked down the hall to his room, Himari's words once again echoing in his mind.

Xiran nudged his brother. “Are you awake?” he whispered.

“I am now...” Hiro grumbled.

“What's a clan?”

“It's like a family, but bigger.”

“Oh...so papa was part of a big family?”

“I guess...”

“Are any of them still here?”

“I don't know, ask Johan in the morning.”

“Ok...I miss mama...”

Hiro rolled over, facing his back to his little brother. “Go to sleep, Xiran.”

Xiran closed his eyes, a few more tears beginning to streak down his face. “Ok...”

The screaming woke Johan from a dead sleep. He ran to his window to see the commotion Dawn had broken to soldiers attacking the Reach, fires burning all over the compound. Johan had fallen asleep in his pants and boots. He didn't bother with putting his robes as he rushed out of his room and up the hall. Selene was not in the hall. The chair was in pieces on the floor. Johan slammed the door with a kick, bursting it open. Selene charged with a yell but stopped upon seeing Johan. “Thank the Destroyer, I thought you were another one!” she sighed with relief. Johan looked around for the boys, finding them under the bed as Selene closed the door again. They were dressed in small tight robes used for child-aged initiates of the Fist. “Come on, we have to go!” he said in a hushed voice. Johan stood and looked back to Selene as the boys came out. “What are we dealing with?”

“Looks to be Ala Mhigan soldiers, but from what I've seen some of them are too strong for us! I've never seen it before!”

“Then we can't waste time, we need to leave now!”

“We can't go out there, the place is crawling with soldiers!”

Johan thought for a moment. “The Temple, there's a secret path from the cliffs that leads to the Fringes. If we can get that far we have a chance.” He kneeled to be eye level with the boys. Their faces were scared. He put a hand on each of them and squeezed lightly. “I know you boys have had it rough thus far, but I'm sorry to say it's about to get worse. Some bad men are here and we need to leave. Selene will carry you, Xiran. Hiro, you're with me. Keep your eyes closed and your heads down, am I understood?” They nodded and Hiro went to the bedside table, where he retrieved the daggers his father gave him. Johan took the daggers and wrapped them up, tying them to Hiro's waist. “Can't lose those now, can we?”  Johan asked lightly. Hiro shook his head, squaring his jaw to hide his fear. Johan took Hiro's hand and lifted the boy to his back. Hiro's hands wrapped around the monk's neck. Johan tied a blanket around them to secure the boy. Selene held Xiran the same way, wrapping another blanket around them. Selene nodded to Johan and he nodded back. “All right then...into the fire we go!” He darted into the hall at full speed, Selene right on his heels.

The soldier had no chance to react as Johan's knee broke his jaw. Direct strikes were all he could manage with Hiro on his back. Amid the chaos, they stuck to what shadows were left in the structure. Most of the fighting was centered in the main area of the reach. The water under the feet of the statue of Rhalgr was littered with bodies of monks and soldiers alike. The run into the tunnel of the temple was short, much to Johan's relief. Bodies of his fallen brothers also lay within the cave. It seemed the soldiers hadn't bothered to enter the temple yet. Johan opened the door and let Selene enter first before closing and locking the door behind him. “We have to hurry, who knows if anyone saw us.” Johan jogged ahead with Selene right behind. His heart sank as the continued. The soldiers had indeed made their way inside the temple, killing those who had sought refuge inside. “Seven hells...”Selene muttered as they ran on.

At the cliffs, they were above the statue of Rhalgr. Johan could hear soldiers clamoring ahead of them. He motioned for Selene to get low as they hid behind a cart. They watched the soldiers came around the bend before them. They stood facing the carnage below, laughing. Johan's blood began to boil. He looked at Selene and spoke as low as he could. “I'll get the left, you get the right. Send them down. Boys, hold on tight.” He felt Hiro's grip tighten around his neck as he tightened the blanket's knot. Johan took a deep breath, waiting for the right moment. An explosion rang out from below and he took the opportunity. The echoing blast masked their footfalls as they ran. The monks jumped in sync, drop kicking their targets off the cliff. The soldiers yelled as they fell. Johan and Selene landed on their feet, fists raised as the last soldier dropped his lance and ran further into the Temple. Selene went to give chase but Johan stopped her. “To the statue, the path is in there!” he said as he ran again.

As they neared the statue they found five more soldiers ahead of them. The soldiers were unable to cross the stone obstacles that were pushing out towards the statue. Johan once again saw an opportunity. “Follow my lead,” he whispered to Selene. She nodded and followed as Johan snuck behind the men. He timed his steps so he could kick one of them in front of the pushing pillars, launching the soldier off the cliff. Selene did the same, pushing another soldier into the next pillar while they were distracted with Johan. The monks backed away from the stone pillars as the remaining three soldiers approached. One of them lunged forward with his lance. The tip glanced Johan's side, tearing into the blanket. Hiro screamed as he felt the lance catch his daggers. The boy reached back and grabbed one that came loose. Johan broke the lance with a palm strike, pulling the rest of it forward with the soldier in tow. Johan punched the soldier, who tried to return with a knife stab. Hiro reached over and drove his dagger into the soldier's neck, stopping the soldier. Johan pulled back, slapping Hiro's hand away and taking the dagger out of the soldier. “Damn it, boy!” he yelled. Selene was busy holding the other two at bay, but getting close to the edge. Johan took one by surprise, stabbing him in the back, but the other managed to thrust his sword into Selene's gut. Both Selene and Xiran screamed in pain. Johan grabbed the last soldier by the next and squeezed until his neck snapped. Selene was on her hands and knees, blood dripping from her abdomen. The blanket that held her and Xiran together was turning red with blood. She untied the knot and Johan took a crying Xiran off her back. The sword pierced his leg, but it wasn't life-threatening. “Is he ok?!” cried Hiro.

Johan ripped part of the blanket and tied the wound on Xiran's leg. “He'll be fine, but we need to move now before-”

“Johan!” Selene cried out as a soldier grabbed Hiro and pulled, ripping the blanket. Hiro screamed at the top of his lungs and flailed with his dagger as he was taken up. Selene attacked the soldier, trying to get him back. “Selene, no!” Johan called out. Selene looked back and pointed at Xiran. “Get him out of here, I'll get Hiro!” She gave chase, ignoring the sword wound. For the first time, Johan had to stay out of a fight. He wanted to follow and save both boys but Selene had the right of it. He wasn't hurt and stood the best chance of getting either child to safety. “Rhalgr give you strength, sister...” He kneeled and put Xiran on his back. The boy was still crying, overwhelmed by the chaos. “Pull yourself together, boy! You'll need to steel your nerves for what lies ahead!” Johan said sternly. He picked up Hiro's dagger and tied it to his hip. Xiran could barely speak between sniffles. “Wha-what do you mean?” he asked frightened. Johan ran to the statue, the head of the god Rhalgr just below the edge of the cliff. He jumped the wood guard onto the head and leaped off again. Xiran felt his heart freefall inside his chest. The drop from the statue's head to its outstretched hand felt like an eternity for the young Au Ra. Johan landed with ease, sliding to a stop at the edge of the deity's palm. He stood and carefully walked to the base of the palm where the arm started. Xiran was hyperventilating, his grip tight around Johan's neck. Johan grabbed Xiran's hands and spoke softly. “Listen! You need to center yourself. You know how I made that jump? I remain calm at all times, like a summer breeze. You need to calm yourself as well because we need to get to the statue's elbow.” He pointed and Xiran's eyes followed.

“Close your eyes and steady your breathing, this is the core of every monk's training. Center yourself, and breathe.” Johan took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Xiran followed, breathing in sync, his heartbeat beginning to steady. “That's it, keep that up, and don't look down,” Johan tightened the knot of the blanket and began his balancing act. He and Xiran continued to breathe in sync as Johan made his way down Rhalgr's arm. Halfway down he heard shouting above him. More soldiers managed to make their way up. “Shite...” Johan muttered. He quickened his walk, careful to keep their balance centered. The soldiers began shooting arrows down as he drew closer. Most of the shots went wild, the winds carrying the arrows elsewhere. One, however, stuck Johan in the shoulder in front of Xiran's face. The boy shouted and jumped in place. “Easy, boy, I've dealt with worse! Keep breathing!” Xiran's breathing picked up despite his attempts to stay calm.

Arrows began to get closer to them as the archers adjusted. Reaching the elbow, Johan kicked the bicep of the statue with staggering force. A segment sunk in and slid upwards, revealing a set of stairs that followed the arm into the mountain. He quickly ran inside. The wood and stone mechanism was rotten down from moisture, unable to close itself. Johan moved the stone segment back into place. He sighed, dejected. The reality of the last ten minutes began to sink in. The Mad King had struck with a force he had never expected. To see his brothers and sister of the Fist of Rhalgr be taken so easily, it was unreal. Johan pulled the arrow out of his arm, taking one of his hand wraps off to apply pressure. He held it for a moment when Xiran's hand lay on top of his. Johan moved his hand and Xiran's took its place, pushing down as much as the youth could manage. Johan smiled slightly. Despite everything, the child wanted to help. “We'll make a monk of you yet, Xiran,” he said, his motivation reignited. His order was gone, but he still had his mission. 'Teach them to be strong...' Himari's words echoed again. They stung because of Hiro now in The Mad King's hands, but he moved forward. The dark cave through the mountain led out to the Fringes. The river flowed before them, so he followed it until he found a beaten path leading away from Rhalgr's Reach. Johan could hear the sound of battle echoing from afar and see smoke rising over the cliffs. He made his way until he couldn't see the smoke anymore. Early morning turned into early afternoon as he walked. Xiran had fallen asleep on his back, the excitement proving too much for his little heart. Johan sat on a large boulder, catching his breath and thinking about his next move. So lost in thought was he that he hadn't noticed the caravan stop in front of him. “I said, do you know how to get to Ul'dah? Hello?” said the driver, mildly annoyed. He was a portly man but seemed well-to-do with his covered carriage. Three more followed, all stocked with products. Johan sighed and thanked Rhalgr for his blessing. “I do, my good man! My grandson and I are going there ourselves! We were in our own carriage, but the Mad King's men took it from me this morning. Must have been something to do with that smoke I saw back in the fringes,” Johan loved spinning a good story.

“Well, that's certainly a spot of bad luck, indeed. If you can prove useful, I'll grant you a passage on my carriage and we can travel together. What good are you?” he asked with a finger to his chin.

Johan smiled a big toothy grin. “These muscles aren't for show! I'm a gladiator looking to strike it rich in the Coliseum of the desert! The Saltery just isn't for me anymore.”

The portly gentleman thought for a moment, looking Johan up and down. “Well, you certainly look the part. That wound on your shoulder must have been from a fight and yet here you stand carrying a child. Come then, you may join me.”

Johan bowed, careful not to let Xiran slump too far. “You are too kind, sir...?”

The gentleman was beside himself. “Oh my, where are my manners? Sir Reginald Gunther, is the name.”

“And I am Johan Bludfyst. This is my grandson Xiran Rayne.” He pointed his thumb back to the sleeping boy. As Johan climbed into the carriage, he set the boy down on a pile of blankets. Sir Reginald eyed the boy curiously. “Does he have...horns?”

Johan chuckled. “Aye, he does. His mother was an Au Ra, from the far eastern reaches of Othard.”

Reginald had a gleam in his eye. “How very...interesting. Very well then! Point the way, my stone-faced friend!” Johan chuckled again and detailed the path they would be taking through the Black Shroud to the sun-baked south and the city of Ul'dah.

[NEXT]   [SoL Chronology]     [SotS Chronology]     [PREVIOUS]

[xiranrayne]

Testing out the Odenta sword for Dark Knight after acquiring it. Looks pretty cook but finding parts that go with the togi for a tank that matches what I use for Samurai had proven to be a challenge. Either way, it still looks cool so it’s a look to keep in mind for later use. 

Looking forward to 4.3 next month as well, so I’m doing my best to be in the game more often and keep my inspirations fresh for writing, and of course, give more screenshots lol. 

[funnilyrelatable]

It’s true.

[xiranrayne]

ladies, why do this to yourselves?

Also, hello everyone! I’m still here.

Working on stuffs

Cuz my job just changed my hours and i can actually write! 

So i’m hard at work, hopefully by the weekend i can post my first story in fucking mooooonths x.x otherwise know that i’m working on it ^_^

laters!

[xiranrayne]

some random screenies to let m still y’all know i’m still alive lol

[xirelluniyt]

Running

The day began like any other in Doma.

The morning sun shined through the window with joyful warmth. Himari awoke content, glad that the sun could greet her. Her husband had left at dawn to do his business in Kugane, but it would still be some time before he returned home. Sensing a still silence in the air, she knew her boys weren’t home either. Hiro likely went to the river to practice his knife techniques. Xiran was a toddler, so if he wasn’t home, then his father must have taken him in the morning. That boy is an early riser since birth like his father. Must be the desert blood, moving with the sun to get through the day, she pondered. Himari took advantage of this rare moment to draw a bath, slowly easing her slender frame into the warm water. Her dark scales took a shine in the water and sunlight peeking through the high window. Sakura oil used to be her greatest pleasure in life until her sons took its place, so any moment to relish in its soothing scent was always a nice change of pace.

After her bath, she took to their library. It wasn’t spectacular, but she spent many days reading books of heroes and their battles to her children here. It was a special place where anything was possible. Her latest read was a book of aetherical research by an elezen mage named Louisoix Leveilluer. Sharlayan sounds like a wonderful place, she thought, I hope to study there one day…

Well into her third chapter, the silence was broken by the main door opening followed by a child’s cheering. Her bright green eyes darted to the window. The morning was now mid-afternoon, and with it came her beloved and youngest son. She marked her page with a braid and put the book away, walking out to the main courtyard to meet them.

“Mommy! You had to see it! They hit everything with their hands! No sticks or knives or nothing!” Xiran’s eyes were flaring with excitement, his eyes bright as jade. “Oh, really?” She replied with equal enthusiasm as she bent over to hug him. “Well go get changed and you can tell me all about it!” Xiran laughed and jumped as high as he could on his way inside, trying to kick sakura petals as they fell. At 3 years old, he was barely 3 fulms high, but full of energy. She smiled as he ran into the house, his feet pattering away. She turned to see her husband, a Highlander as strong as stone. He was a mountain compared to his Auri wife, a native from the Azim Steppe. He kissed his wife tenderly. She stroked his cheek and looked deep into his dark blue eyes, like pools of the sea. “I take it you two had an interesting day?”

He smiled and stood straight. “A group of Monks from The Fist of Rhalgr came into port at Kugane today. Under strict eye, they were permitted to put on a demonstration. Boards, bricks, stone blocks, all reduced to crumbs by bare hands. Quite the spectacle, to be entirely honest!” He almost seemed more enthusiastic than his son, not having seen anything of his Ala Mhigan origins in quite some time,  However, she met his excitement with a slight tone of seriousness. Ala Mhigans in Hingashi meant her husband was there for more than just business dealings with foreigners. “So what about your transactions? Any news?” His smile left as quick as it came, lowering his arms as he took a serious face. He spoke in a hushed voice. Garlean spies were everywhere, some were said to possess powers only known to the Shinobi. Some were even said to be Shinobi, men and women who quickly allied with the Garlean Legatus upon his occupation of Doma.

“Johan Bludfyst was one of the Monks in the demonstration. He said he was able to secure a passage for us, but he’s taking serious risks even agreeing to let us aboard. He’s only staying in port tonight, and we are to either be on his ship before he embarks or we lose our chance.” His face was grave, almost hopeless. “The Fist has already set up a home for us with the essentials that we’ve managed to smuggle over, but there’s so much left to do. We haven’t even told the children that we’re leaving the only home they’ve ever known…I don’t know what to do.”

Himari hugged her husband, which took him by surprise. Her grace under pressure was always something of a mystery but always gave him the motivation to persevere in the worst of times. “There’s nothing left here but material items, Kyland. All that matters is that we’ll be away from here, away from this oppressive hold that the Garleans have over Doma. Our family will be able to grow in peace.” He returned her hug with a strong embrace. “We must pack then. Take only what we need to make the journey and leave in the night,” he said lovingly. He would do anything for her.

The sea water lapped against the pier quietly. Under other circumstances, it would be peaceful, looking out at the sea with the moon hanging low in the midnight sky. Kyland could make out the constellation of Rhalgr and took it as a sign of the future. Ala Mhigo would be their new home for a time, and from there travel to other parts of the world. Eorzea was a large continent, filled with wonders. Himari would tell him of the places she read about in the books he would bring her from the markets in Kugane. Her eagerness was his drive and wanted to give her the world she wished to see. This was his chance to do so, for her and their sons. He walked from the bow of the ship and met with Johan as he and Himari walked up from below deck. He wore a snug set of robes and pants in the event they ran into any trouble, his katana tight on his hip. It had been many moons since he held his blade in combat, but he was the cautious type. “How soon can we shove off?” he asked hurriedly. Johan met his gaze and placed a sympathetic fist on his bicep. Johan was an older monk with a silver beard and hair over a weathered face, wearing black monk garb. He spoke calmly to Kyland, attempting to ease his anxiety. “Soon, friend. We only need wait for the captain as he finalizes the manifest. Are you keeping the name Rayne? People know it here, including the empire.” Kyland gripped his katana, “Nothing in this world will ever make me abandon who I am,” his tone was serious. He looked to his wife and felt calm until he spotted a gruff looking Roegadyn with a scroll in hand making his way to the ship. His anxiety spiked. “That’s him,” huffed the Monk, “Let us make haste.” Johan walked onto the pier to untie the ropes off the bow while Kyland took to the stern. The captain scurried along, a nervous look on his face like he’d seen a ghost as he boarded. This made Kyland more nervous on top of his already heightened anxiety. He looked to his wife, who noticed as well and was just as confused. He then heard the heavy footfalls on the pier. Without looking he knew it was a squad. Ten samurai guards, Garlean cronies that sniffed out their plan. He had worked the rope to its last pass. One more pull of the knot and the ship would be free. The leader stood in front and spoke in a gruff voice. “Kyland, you are hereby placed under arrest for treason against the Garlean Empire! Cease and drop your weapon!” Kyland rose slowly, facing the squad of guards, guns drawn. Just one more gods-damned pass, he thought with grit teeth.

Johan, his ropes untied, ran and set himself back to back with Kyland. He whispered as not to be heard. “This is a harsh situation, brother. If the Empire finds out we helped you, they’ll certainly attempt to advance on us next.”

“You intend to run then, Monk?” He whispered back. The squad leader yelled again, “Do you hear me, traitor?! You are under arrest!” The squad slowly advanced, tense and uncertain. Some of these soldiers were new to their duty, and those that weren’t never had to pull a weapon with intent to kill.

Johan chuckled nervously. “I’ve never run from a fight, but with the information you’ve provided, we can’t bear to lose you as an asset or let your family come to harm. I intend to buy you time. Run, I can hold them off.”

Kyland looked at his wife. She was crying, not wanting to lose her love. They came this far, so close to freedom. She didn’t want to lose him, or their chance at a new life, but she could see in Kyland’s stern expression he had already made that choice. He would do anything for her.

“I’ll never make it to the ship before I’m peppered with bullets…Keep them safe Johan, they’ll need your protection on the journey there,” Kyland said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

Johan widened his eyes in shock. “Certainly you can’t take them all yourself, you need aid!”

Kyland closed his eyes, the memories flowing. His first kiss with Himari, his ceremony of bonding, his sons’ births. “They don’t know who you are, or what you’ve done for us, otherwise they would have this harbor surrounded. You can still retain secrecy. Do me this favor…as my last request.”

The Monk spied the rope, almost undone. Kyland sensed his concern. “I’ll take care of it, and them. Go!”

“Gods’ speed, brother.” Johan took two steps and jumped from the pier to the ship. The squad followed the Monk but quickly retrained on Kyland as he took his stance. Right hand on the hilt of his blade, ready to strike. “This is your final warning, traitor! Stand down or be fired upon!”

Kyland scowled in anger. He hated the empire and always sought a way to fight them. He took one last glance at his beloved Himari. She wasn’t crying anymore, but her expression was pure sadness. Even in this dire moment, she still kept herself together. She knew she would have to be strong for the boys. She knew she would have to be there to be the mother they deserved, and the father they’ll never grow up with. Her grace under pressure was always a mystery to him, but now it all made sense. She stayed strong to give her family the life they deserved, and now he had to do the very same with his life. Her perseverance was his motivation.

“Stand down, traitor!” the squad leader yelled again. Kyland snapped back to reality, his scowl pressed harder. “My name is Kyland Rayne, and I will not stand down!”

“Open fire!” the leader retorted, and as the bullets flew, time slowed down. Kyland may not have held his sword in combat in many moons, but his skills were still sharp. In one motion, he drew his sword, cutting the rope and dashed. In the blur, Himari was running to avoid gunfire, Johan took a position over the edge of the ship and pushed the ship off the pier using every onze of his might to get the ship as far away from the port as possible. Kyland’s blade diced every bullet he could see. He was clear of danger, save for the ten samurais before him, but he had faced worse odds and won. However, he had never faced a true Shinobi.

The ninja appeared out of the shadows and met Kyland with a blade to the gut. The tip of Kyland’s katana was but an ilm away from the squad leader’s face, causing him to fall backward and retreat back with the squad, but the threat was over. Kyland coughed up blood as his stomach hemorrhaged. He never saw the ninja’s face, but it didn’t matter. His final act was what he intended, giving his family the fighting chance they needed. He pushed the ninja back and tried to strike, but a knife was thrust into his throat and up into his brainstem. He was dead before his body hit the pier with a sickening thud.

The ship was getting close to port when Xiran awoke in his mother’s arms. He rubbed his eyes as he sat on her lap, hearing the commotion above deck as they prepared to port. Three months at sea hearing stories of Gyr Abania and his father’s former homeland made him excited. He wished his father was there to see it too. His mother was on a bale of hay, and he on her. She was covered by his father’s favorite black togi. He wore it often to gatherings in the summer months, as it had no sleeves and let him stay cool. He nuzzled her shoulders to try waking her. Her response was weak, she could barely hold her head up. Xiran had never seen his mother so pale before. “Mommy, are you sick?” he asked, barely awake yet. “All is well, child,” she answered. “Can you hear them…? We’re almost there…Soon we’ll start our adventures…” Her breathing was shallow, almost like every breath was getting shorter. Johan came into the cargo hold, hearing them stirring. “Good morrow, Hiro has been on the deck since dawn, asking all sorts of questions! I never thought I could have seen a child so drawn to sea-faring as much as he!” He lifted Xiran with such ease, Xiran thought he could fly and laughed. “Go join your brother, let him know you’re awake!” He put Xiran down on his feet and the young boy ran off. Johan looked back to Himari, dumbfounded. “Come now, we’ve come all this way you must be hungry.” He went to take her hand, but it was cold. Johan’s heart dropped and he ripped the togi off of her. She lay in a dark kimono and long pants, and she lay still unresponsive. He jostled her lightly, trying to rouse her.

“Himari, come now, wake up!” He patted and lightly shook her, discovering her left side was oozing fluid from a bullet hole under her lung. She had slowly succumbed to infection, self-treating to worry about her children’s safety more than her own. “Jo...Joha-,” she answered softly.

“I’m here, Himari, don’t push yourself, I’ll get help!” he rose to find aid but Himari grabbed his wrist.

“Xiran…Hiro…teach them to be strong…like their father…” Johan took to his knee at her side again. She caressed his face. “Thank you…for giving us a chance…to live…” she lay her head back again and took her last breath. Her last thought was seeing her son, tall and strong, wearing his father’s togi into a battle. His hair was black like his mother’s, his face full of drive and determination like his father’s on his last day, his eyes bright as jade, as the day he saw the Monks for the first time.

[NEXT]   [SoL Chronology]   [SotS Chronolgy]   

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FFXIV: Voidsent-themed asks!

Ahriman: does your muse enjoy watching others? If so, why?

Succubus: How do they respond to flirtation and sexual advances? 

Arch-demon: Name a few of their preferred weapons.

Imp: do they enjoy playing pranks on others? If so, then describe their idea of the perfect practical joke.

Gnat: Name something that really annoys your muse.

Vodoriga: Do they prefer a stealthy approach o a head on attack?

Persona: Would your muse be considered two faced? Do they have ‘faces’ that they hide from the public?

Feridad: What do they find funniest?

Soulflayer: Does your muse enjoy manipulating and coercing others?

Mimic: A stranger is caught rifling through your muse’s possessions! How do they react?

Blackguard: Is your muse loyal, or can they be easily bought out and persuaded?

Hellhound: Brains or brawn–which describes your muse best?

Atomos: Do they feel the need to amass a great deal of money and material wealth? If so, explain why.

Anchag: Name your muse’s ideal mount.

Echidna: Discuss why someone might find your muse alluring.

Dahaka: Is there something abnormal about their appearance? (such as a deformity, wound, etc.)

Deepeye: Does your muse demonstrate self-awareness?

Diabolos: Does your muse have a tendency to premeditate things, or do they prefer to go with the flow?

Void Monk: How likely is it for your muse to get into a fist fight?

Gremlin: Does your muse swear or use profanity a lot?

Page 64: Does your muse like to read? If so, name a specific genre of book that they prefer.

Bomb: Would you say that your muse is stable or unstable, in terms of personality?

Arachne Eve: Are they afraid of spiders?

Gargoyle: Is your muse stoic, or do they prefer to take life a little less seriously?

Troubadour: Is there a manner communication (such as body language, telepathy, writing, etc) that your muse prefers?

Cloud of Darkness: Are they powerful? How would they influence or assert their power over others?

Byblos: Does your muse like keeping their things organized?

Boogeyman: Does your muse have a habit of disappearing? Do they come and go as they please?

Flan: How do they feel about spills, messes, etc.?

Ogre: Are they physically strong? If so, do they flaunt it, and is there a reason for that?

Taurus: How do they feel about nature and animals?

Cerberus: Would they keep a dog as a pet?

Cuchulainn: How do they feel about the macabre? Does their idea of grotesqueness differ from that of others?

Demon: Do they fear death? Would they seek immortality of some form to avert its cause?

Forgall: If given the opportunity, would your muse resurrect someone they cared about?

Hecteye: Describe the most effective method of distracting your muse.

Scathach: If your muse had servants, how would they be treated?