H I L D A • W A R E

     Hilda looked down at her hands and tried to reimagine the horrors of late. But the certainty of victory that they all felt when they got rid of them bloody blasphemies, while felt godly and divine, still left bitterness at the back of their tongues, the expected satisfaction no longer in view. Mayhaps, she pondered, they could touch safety once more. But, Hydaelyn is safe now, is it not? No such thing as safety when there’s no danger to once again face. “Oh, cut it. Lady this, Lady that. Those Alliance bastards were irritatin’ enough. You’d do the same to me?” Still said in jest, of course. She didn’t particularly mind nor care. It was better than receiving a new insult to reclaim. “It had been hard, aye. We’ve lost good people. People we can’t take back no more. We did what we could, so did the your lordship.”

         𝐒𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬  that  have  managed  to  make  their  to  his  hands  regardless  of  what  part  of  the  star  he  was  traversing.  Be  it  Thavnair  or  Old  Sharlayan,  he  could  always  count  on  the  sealed  envelope  waiting  atop  his  belongings  once  he  retired  from  his  travails.  Fire  raining  from  the  heavens,  torment  and  agony  made  manifest  across  the  realm,  ‘tis  a  fool  that  would  believe  Ishgard  for  all  that  it’d  suffered  would  be  given  a  moment’s  reprieve.  Still,  such  knowledge  gave  no  comfort  in  reading  Aymeric’s  brief  description  of  his  dealings  with  this  Profane  Fafnir.  No  doubt  to  spare  him  the  worry  and  unwittingly  making  it  all  the  worse  that  he’d  made  his  way  here  to  Ishgard  once  able.  

The man who had suggested such an outfit for her was surely deserving of a good blast from her trusty handgonne, but she held back, knowing that such an outburst would not be fitting for her. Instead, she gritted her teeth, feeling a wave of anger and frustration rise up within her. Why must ladies be forced to conform to these stifling societal norms, when freedom was so much better? But even as she raged inwardly, there's no avoiding that one of these days, she would not be able to simply dismiss the expectations of those around her. By the Fury, however, she'd fight tooth and nail if it came down to it.

Her delicate hand reached out with a sly grin on her lips and she playfully punched the back of Estinien's knees. The impact was gentle but the message was clear, she did not like him when he's mouthful, leaving her feeling as though death would be a welcome release from the discomfort. Her eyes flickered with annoyance, but her gaze was as sharp as a knife. He should not dare to repeat them again.

 #WOLFSBRINE ━━━ YOU ARE AT WAR WITH YOURSELF             caught between what you truly are                                                    and what you’re supposed to be.

Morganaux had tried to make his return to Ishgard as quietly as possible, but as usual, it seemed that fate had other plans in store for him. Hidden beneath a cloak, he’d thought he had done enough to avoid notice, but it took just one keen eye — just one keen and dreadfully noisy eye— to take note of his presence and alert practically the entire Holy See of his arrival.

After spending what felt like the past bell and a half giving out smiles and inspiring words to everyone who had flocked to see him, the Warrior breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the crowd finally begin to disperse. But, just before he started to head toward his destination again, a familiar face approached, and this was one he wouldn’t even dream of turning away— especially given what had brought him here on such a short notice.

“Ah, Hilda! It’s a pleasure to see you!” Morganaux answered, giving a tired grin. “I’m afraid I’ve got only one last smile left in me for the day, but I’ll gladly let you have it!” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looked from side to side to make certain that they were alone now, then leaned in, voice lowered. “As for the reason why I’m here… You aren’t the only one who senses something troubling might be going on.”

"Bugger off!" she scowled, her words echoing through. It was a phrase that in the past would have caused the crowd to turn on her, to throw rocks and insults and worse. But now, with the newfound position she had been given in society, her words carried more weight than ever before. The crowd paused for a moment, uncertain and unsure. But as the woman continued to look at them, they understood. Like leaves caught in a sudden gust of wind, they scattered and fled, their noises fading into the distance. 

When the parchment was handed to her, Hilda's eyes traced the delicate lines of the girl's face, studying it with a keen eye. Her lips curved up in a smile as she looked up at the Warrior of Light, returning the warmth of his greeting. Returning her gaze to the drawn picture, her expression hardened, the corners of her mouth drawing down into a deep frown. She knew exactly who the missing girl was, recognized her instantly from her time spent in the shadowy, twisting alleys of the Brume, born and raised in the murky depths of a land few outsiders dared to venture into. She knew better than anyone the risks of betraying her own kind, the dangers of speaking out against the unwritten rules of the Brume.

Her lips thinned as she considered her next move, but she could not bring herself to speak, could not even pretend to be anything other than hesitant in sharing the details of the girl's disappearance. The girl was once one of her own and she could never sell out her fellows. Not even to those she trusted the most. And so, with a heavy heart and a deep sense of regret, the woman shook her head, her eyes downcast as she handed the parchment back to her friend.

yet another hilda sketch