Hani's Beehive

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They both had their own habits and methods of getting things done. Ways to connect, as some would put it, while they tackled obstacles together. It was awkward, yet genuine. That's how their friendship progressed for several moons.

The first time Joseni visited her apartment was during the dead of winter. They talked for hours between playful banter, trivial things that led to important values like family and close bonds. It was the first time he showed her the scars covering his arms and shoulders. Something he feared would push Dane away, but instead brought them closer.

They stood shoulder to shoulder in the tiny kitchen, or rather shoulder to waist since he towered an entire fulm over her. Baking a cake had been the objective, but it became so much more. He envied Dane’s focus as she measured ingredients, but adored the way her face scrunched up in the process. A furrowed brow when she bit down on her lower lip.

Immersed as she was in the task, she didn't even notice the way Joseni watched her so intently. Her goal was simply to impress him by making something edible. Even if they shared responsibility for the end result, she wanted it to be perfect.

And this all happened before they knew better; she was unaware of his love for baking, and he thought her skills were well beyond mediocre. She glued herself to the recipe and he followed her lead without question.

Now, several turns later, their partnership had become more relaxed. They shared an apartment with a much larger kitchen, yet still hovered in each other’s personal space. She followed Joseni’s lead and did anything he asked, accustomed to all the steps needed without further direction. As usual, she found time to tease and distract him until he lifted her onto the counter. Confined to her spot until he finished. And after the timer had been set, he found his place in front of her once more.

It didn’t matter that Dane improved; she had taken an interest in what he loved because she wanted to spend time with him. Either of them could easily stand in a kitchen alone and bake; the end result would still just be a cake. And that's how it used to be; they both had an independent streak and took pride in their own feats, after all.

A late start to Dane's day meant the sun shone brightly during her outdoor routine. Something she enjoyed, of course, but the peace and solitude granted before sunrise outclassed any other condition. She devoted her morning to sleeping in and rotting away, wonderful things when her restless body allowed it.

It was close to noon when she planned her run. Ten laps around the ward, and walk the final stretch; her way of cooling down while taking in the scenery. The sun followed her at every turn.

She spotted two children arguing by the lake. They hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. As usual, the Raen was nosy enough to listen, but still minded her own business until one of them began to cry. Ah, hells.

“Everything okay?” Dane approached them, trying not to look suspicious. She was a stranger, after all, and didn't want to scare them away. But they seemed too distressed to write off someone who might help.

“...My bracelet fell into the water.” One of them answered. She looked younger than the boy next to her but nearly identical, so they must have been siblings. Two Midlanders with matching black hair and green eyes. “I-It's important. We have a matching pair.” She sniffled, pointing to her brother's wrist. He showed it to Dane and nodded.

“Would you like me to look for it? I'm a good swimmer.” She offered, but didn’t wait for their response and began untying her shoes. The decision had been made before she even asked. Both children stood frozen, confused by her willingness to help. But a simple dive was the easiest task on the star; she carried the blessing to breathe underwater and swimming had been part of her career for several turns.

The water looked fairly deep, but she managed to see part of the lakebed with enough penetration from the sun’s light. “It'll be just a second.” She smiled at them from the dock and dove in, beginning her search.

Unfortunately, it took longer than a second. Longer than a few minutes, even. With proper visibility, Dane still had to navigate between rocks, weave through submerged tree stumps, and inspect nearby obstacles like sunken rowboats. It was a good thing she saw the brother’s bracelet beforehand; she caught sight of so many random keepsakes and jewelry pieces along the way. Someone else could play treasure hunter. She just wanted to make those two kids happy.

A familiar shape caught her eye and she recognized the missing bracket tangled in pondweed. It looked out of place only being submerged for mere minutes and hadn’t even reached the bottom. The dangling roots kept it afloat.

When she surfaced and pulled herself onto the dock, the pair appeared inconsolable. The brother became a sobbing mess during her absence, too, which confused her. They rushed to her side as if she had just returned home from a war. Offering the salvaged bracelet to the sister failed to calm them down.

“Wh-What’s wrong? I found your bracelet. I don't think it's broken…?” Dane inspected it and she was right; still in one piece although it was wet and green with specks of algae. They continued to cry, and only after a few moments did the young girl shake her head.

“You were down there… for so long. W-We thought you drowned trying to find it…” She rubbed her eyes. “We didn't want you to die…”

Oh.

Dane knelt in front of the two to comfort them, but she must have looked awful in her drenched workout attire. “It’s okay, it’s okay! I said I was a good swimmer, right?” She tried to laugh it off, which worked. Barely. Both siblings stopped crying and wiped the tears and snot from their faces. “I’m a pro. I can hold my breath for ten minutes!” Technically not a lie, but stretched quite a bit. Better than mentioning a blessing.

She didn’t say anything else, and the three sat in silence for a few minutes while the kids composed themselves. Another attempt to offer the sister's bracelet back, which she accepted by holding her arm out. Dane secured it around her wrist. “There you go. Safe and sound.”

“Thank you, miss.” The brother mumbled while she slid her shoes back on. She flashed another smile and nodded, wet hair sticking to her face and horns.

“Don’t ever be afraid to ask others for help, okay?”

Then she was off, again, without waiting for a response. A sudden burst of energy to fuel her final sprint home. Another productive workout, another meaningful day.

“This is a familiar sight.” Kehv leaned against the counter opposite of Dane, watching her eyes struggle to focus before slumping forward. Her head landed in her arms, followed by a muffled groan.

The woman didn’t drink as much lately; her recent therapy and lightheadedness brought on the effects of alcohol too quickly. But tonight she was able to sit with him like she used to, chatting between orders while he passed her free drinks. As always, she’d slip in a few of her problems to ask his advice. The reason she visited when her fiancé was absent.

“What time is it?” She brought a hand to her forehead, forcing herself upright enough to look at him. He could only laugh at the pitiful sight. It was just like that Saints’ Wake from four turns ago. Drunk and alone, but this time she wasn’t wearing a black cat costume and dancing to the orchestrion. Stained cheeks from tears running down her eyeliner and whisker marks.

“Closing time.” He didn’t elaborate, especially since they were alone. Everyone had left, including the staff, and Kehv just let her rest until he finished closing. Well, more like a chance for her to sober up. “Can ya walk?”

“Of course I can.”

An obvious lie. She stood up, nearly knocking the stool over, and wobbled in place. Even with both hands clinging to the bar.

“Alright, ya little monster. I’ll take ya home.” He rounded the corner and grabbed her easily, slinging the Raen over his broad shoulders. Maybe a little too fast judging by her groans, but he didn’t want to risk the fall. She didn’t fight back. “Let’s go.”

Between dozing and cryptic ramblings, he couldn’t keep a straight face. Dane was always quite guarded even after all these turns, and it had almost been ten at this point. Gods, how time flew by. But when she drank too much, those walls came crumbling down. She whined, complained, and spoke meekly when met with a stern attitude. Truly the attitude of someone he considered his younger sister.

And sometimes, she’d let a few things slip that surprised him. Her past, specifically. She shared an odd bond with Kehv since he met her parents. The only person who did. After witnessing her father speak to her in such a hateful manner and the subsequent bruises on her shoulder the next day, he didn’t want that anger to reach anyone else. And Dane begged him to keep her secret.

“Why didn’t you call him?” She murmured between her random babbling. “You have a linkpearl…”

“...I thought it would be much funnier to drop his fianceé, plastered as hells, on his doorstep. Like a cute little present.”

“You’re awful.”

“I’m hilarious.” Their brief back and forth seemed to take her mind off the previous subject, which was for the best. He didn’t want to make her sad arse someone else’s problem.

When they reached the apartment building, Kehv kept her quiet to ensure an easy hand-off. He set her down gently, knowing she’d immediately fall if placed upright, and knocked on the door. With his remaining few seconds, he gave her the classic reassuring headpat and wished her a good night before heading home.

A thin layer of dust had piled on the bookshelf, staking its claim on Dane's framed photos. They decorated most surfaces in their apartment and hung on every wall, even finding homes in her wallet, but the ones neatly arranged here were special.

She wiped down the shelves as always, carefully moving each photo aside to clean one by one. They received extra attention from the wood frames to glass covers. And as she polished them, her eyes focused on the moment they captured.

Her and Joseni stood together against an autumn backdrop, both holding up a pumpkin painted with crude drawings. They were both artistically challenged, but it didn't stop them from having fun. It was their first outing since Dane started therapy, and the last she'd been seen with her long hair. Exhausted from recent events, and it showed. They still looked genuinely happy.

The next was a similar image of the two as they stood next to a snowman. One built together, motivated by the Starlight tale of a couple wishing to start a family. Dane bundled up as always to combat the frigid air, but for that brief moment she pulled her scarf down and smiled brightly.

One frame paired two separate photos. The first was a candid shot of Joseni and Kehv working together at the restaurant. A trivial moment, maybe, but Dane loved how focused and passionate they were. The next was Lia and Dane sitting on a bench, Rin sprawled out across both their laps. A young boy of two summers, though he was a bit older now. They all had rarely been in the same place at the same time, so a photo together didn’t exist.

The oldest one had been of Hani, Yariji, and Joseni as children. They were on the verge of bickering, as three siblings typically acted. Of all the photos she was given from their childhood, it was the only one deemed worthy to display out in the open. The others were allegedly too chaotic and embarrassing to show, which Dane didn't understand. When the three were together, they still acted like children well into adulthood.

And the final photo had been of her parents, the only proof she had of their existence. They stood together, nearly thirty summers ago, surrounded by fellow members of the guard. Her mother, Aoi, had short blonde hair and matching golden eyes. A hand rested on the sword's sheath attached to her hip. She looked so confident. Her father, Rasho, seemed gentle with his blue eyes despite towering next to his partner. Long, wavy brown hair draped over his shoulders. Dane was the spitting page of her mother, but Joseni also saw traces of her father in his fianceé’s smile.

If anyone knew Dane from what she considered her “prime”, they'd recognize a great deal of change in her since. A woman with little regard for her appearance. Long, blonde hair whipped and tangled in the sea breeze, attire covered in loose seams, stains from the elements, and very well-loved. Everything she wore needed to be practical and have a purpose. No accessories or delicate items.

That life had also shaped her body. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises all found their place at some point and she didn't care to draw attention to them. A quick bandage or splash of water was enough. Pulling creatures from the sea over thrice her size showed progress, too; rugged definition had reached every ilm of Dane's tiny body. Thighs that wasted no time on watermelons, arms that gave her fellow crewmates a run for their gil during wrestling matches. And lastly, her beloved abs.

With retirement, a lot of those features diminished. Her everyday routine became paperwork, dancing, reading, and leisurely exercises. Nothing like reeling in sea dragons or tussling with sailors, just morning jogs and yoga. A quiet, civilian life. But one thing she wouldn't budge on was her physical health, her stamina in particular.

Running was her release. An early morning to herself meant she could run for ages. Quiet meditation was good, yes, but it didn't compare to her racing heart on long stretches of road. She was far too restless. It was her outlet for those lingering emotions with nowhere to go; anger, frustration, and even joy found its place in the routine. And as she pushed herself forward, trivial thoughts were left behind.

“Do you suppose we'll stay here forever?” The question came suddenly, verbalizing a single string of the young girl’s thoughts. She laid in the boy’s lap as he weaved wildflowers through her golden hair. This field was their haven, a quiet spot they shared under the sun.

“...Uh.” He paused, processing her words quite literally. “I’s gettin’ dark... we gotta go ‘ome soon.”

“I meant… here, in this town.” She tucked a flower in his shirt collar, the furthest her hand could reach. “We've lived here all our lives. When we're older, would we move on? Would we be together?”

Her musings were complicated compared to his; she worried about the future, bracing for the worst, and he rarely entertained thoughts of change. Their life had been peaceful, allowing the feelings they had for one another to grow with each passing day. Tomorrow remained an extension of the present, and she would always be by his side.

“Yeah.” His pinky traced over the bridge of her nose. “I'll follow y’ ferever. An’ I know y’d follow m’.” He sounded sure of himself, so she chose not to doubt him. His bright eyes and smile wouldn't lie to her.

This was the memory they both had chosen as their last. Laid to rest in the void before their fractured souls rejoined, a brief moment that lasted an eternity. Navigating through their short years of life, grieving a stolen future.

Hydaelyn tried over and over to correct their fates, but those under Zodiark had influenced him far beyond saving. Love for their family twisted into revenge, funneling hatred and darkness into his heart. She managed to retain the girl who only wanted to secure the love that remained. To survive by his side.

Love could both heal and destroy so easily.

Countless regrets stalked them to death's door. But the decision they'd never amend was that final moment together. On the cusp of the star's salvation or destruction, neither granted their true wish. And perhaps that wish had the power to transcend space and time, reaching their respective source, and reuniting them without divine intervention.

“What of our story? Our ending?”

“What'll it be, Blondie?” The bartender didn't spare Dane a single glance as he polished ale glasses. Too fancy for wooden mugs, but not enough for proper seating. The stool tilted at the slight shift of weight, sliding her around a torn cushion. Well, a bit of fabric wasn't the star of the show. If the drinks were good, everything else was an afterthought.

“...Anything. I'm not picky.” The Midlander finally looked over, eyeing her attire not obscured by the counter. She gave a frustrating answer and he half-expected her to look the part. A spoiled girl speaking in riddles just for a vodka soda, maybe. But she seemed to fit right in with his other patrons. And that was her goal.

It was difficult for the Warrior of Light to walk into a tavern and unwind; she always had people tailing her. But she managed to shake them off this particular evening and rewarded herself with a stroll through The Goblet. At the end of the road, wedged between two larger estates, this brick tavern caught her eye. It was the perfect place to exist as a nobody.

She didn’t elaborate as they sat in silence. Too impatient to play her game, the man turned away to fetch a drink, also forfeiting their unofficial staring contest. Dane spun in her stool and observed the cramped dining hall while she waited. It felt a little nostalgic watching other people, uninterrupted. In fact, everyone besides the bartender ignored her presence.

“What’s the story behind that?” She asked, a finger lazily pointed at the wall. A large, framed painting caught her eye and it almost looked out of place.

It depicted a beautiful goddess on the battlefield with three pairs of bloodied angel wings emerging from her back. Long, golden hair descended over her body to cover sensitive parts, arms and legs still protected by plated armor. How modest. If she was, in fact, some form of deity, Dane didn’t recognize her.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” He placed an opened bottle of pale ale in front of her. “Saw her down at the market one afternoon. The artist said it was his best, most accurate work yet. The Hero of Eorzea.”

She froze, the bottle pressed against her lips. Another few seconds and she would have choked, spit, or both. “The what?”

The bartender peered at her, a mix of confusion and concern in his eyes. “...You live under a rock, lass? The Hero of Eorzea, Hydaelyn’s Champion, The Warrior of Light. Surely at least one of those titles rings a bell? She’s saved our star dozens of times.”

Dane eyed the painting again through different eyes. In disbelief. Mortified, even. But no matter how many angles she approached from, it seemed like a joke. Is this how people saw her? And did he say the artist considered it his ‘best’, ‘most accurate’ work yet?

“...Right.” A few swigs from the bottle might numb the embarrassment. This proved at least one person imagined her half-naked form, inaccurate as it was. “I didn’t know of her appearance. That’s why I didn’t recognize her.” She chased the lie with more ale.

“Ah, that makes sense. I caught a glimpse of her once, so rest assured you’re looking at an accurate portrait.”

It became too much for her to bear. Not only did he speak with such conviction, but the Hyur was completely and utterly wrong.

Dane emptied her bottle, placing it and the gil she owed on the counter. No amount of alcohol would help her endure this. “Thanks for the drink, sir. And… the lovely conversation.” And before he had a chance to respond, she was out the door.

Summerford Farms was a picturesque scene in the afternoon sun. Clouds rolled over the distant mountains, guided by gentle winds that swept through La Noscea's fields and coastlines. Dane focused on the latter, but the steady rhythm of waves brought her mind elsewhere. These quiet moments alone were never taken for granted.

For her, peace and stability had always been her form of happiness. Joy and despair were fleeting, experienced above or below the line. It was hardly sustainable to only chase life's highs and have it be the goal. To her, it sounded unrealistic.

To be content with life, sprawled out in the grass for a few hours, was more than enough.

Dane rolled onto her side and plucked the first dandelion stem she found. A few seeds broke free from the cluster, fragile as always when they became prime vessels for wish-making. She sat up, centering it on the horizon’s line, and stared. Her attempt to manifest a childish desire.

She blew a steady stream of air until every remaining seed took flight. The ocean breeze intervened, scattering them among clouded blue skies, and they eventually vanished in the distance. Her eyes followed along to ensure their safe journey. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

“...Did y’ make a wish?”

His voice pulled her back to reality. He laid at her side the entire time, lost in his own daydreams until Dane took precedence over them. She always did.

Her pockets of peace found in lush fields, sandy beaches, and blue waters no longer required solitude. At least, not entirely. To be content, simply existing without a need for words, was something she found by his side.

He didn't invade the quiet labyrinths of her mind. He waited patiently on the other side, often preoccupied with his own.

It became her new definition of joy; the constant flow of contentment, navigating life without needing to wear a mask. Acceptance and reassurance of her unshielded eyes through the good and bad. To exist simply as herself, no different from the woman she was beside him.

Following the Bel Canto’s show, Dane suggested a short walk to the neighboring beach instead of returning home. They were already half-dressed for the occasion after following the event’s theme, proving summer was still very much alive in its final few days of the turn. And she absolutely thrived.

Dane wore one of her classic sleeveless tops, the type she immediately fell in love with and had to own in every color. Her vibrant blue skirt was part of a swimsuit, applicable for the venue just this once. Joseni had on a pair of khaki shorts and matching button-up shirt she chose, a nautical pattern to fit in. He wouldn’t attempt a statement like hers by showing up in a swimsuit.

“It's still warm, isn’t it?” The sun had set just a few hours prior, enough time for the air to cool considerably. She held onto his arm with both hands as they walked, her usual gesture of public affection. But other than a few of the ward’s residents, they were alone. 

“Aye, i’s nice.” He looked down at her with a satisfied flick of his ears. Joseni knew how much she loved spending summers sprawled out on the star’s beaches, but his tolerance of the sun’s rays left much to be desired. She knew this, which is why it rarely became a suggestion for their outings. “Surprised y’ don’ come ‘ere more. Y’ miss th’ beach, righ’?”

Dane met his gaze and smiled, a shrug of her shoulders aimed at either comment. “I do miss it sometimes. The way you miss a memory that you’ve outgrown, even if it was a happy one.”

As they descended the final flight of steps and stood at the path’s end, she knelt down and removed her wedged sandals. He followed suit, grabbing both pairs by habit, and made his way to the water behind her. He dropped their belongings in the sand and stared at her back.

“Won’ lie, hearin’ y’ say y’ outgrew somethin’ y’ love soun’s concernin’.”

She made contact with the waves without hesitation. No matter how long it had been, she felt no need to test the waters; it was something she’d always be accustomed to. Something she knew. The reason had no weight. A child of the sea, turns of experience on fishing boats, or just the genuine love for its unpredictable swells. Any answer could be correct, even a combination of all three.

Dane turned to the shore, waiting patiently for Joseni to reach her. When he did, his arm found its place around her waist. He searched her eyes for an answer during their shared silence. Something about her had changed over this past turn, and that answer in particular concerned him.

The woman he loved so deeply had suffered over and over, subsequently forfeiting her own happiness in ways he fought to prevent. As understanding and easygoing as she seemed lately, it was just her way of letting things go before they took root in her heart. And he didn’t want this to be something else she lost.

She gave him a knowing smile and returned the embrace, her forehead pressed firmly against his chest.

“...I was happy, you know? I built that aquarium: Seaside Aquarium. And when I worked myself to the bone, on the docks, or on fishing boats, the ocean called to me. It still does sometimes, but it’s no longer part of my gravity. It’s… like an old friend.”

“I jus’... don’ wan’ y’ t’ give up on somethin’ again.” Joseni gently swept his fingers through her hair, an attempt to ground himself. He felt his breath growing short, the strong urge to fight back tears.

“..An’... I know i’s been ‘ard, but… I don’ wan’ m’ sun t’ lose ‘er light.”

A few long moments passed, leaving Dane at a loss for words. She didn’t expect such a heavy conversation, but things had been unraveling more lately. And if their shared path continued in this direction, reverting its course would become too difficult.

“...She won’t, Joseni.” Those words could simply be placeholders, a false sense of security. To delicately push aside the inevitable.

“I think… I’ll pick that one.”

An assortment of woven bracelets sat neatly on display, organized by color and their braided patterns. Dane thought they were simple and charming for mere festival game prizes. And they may have been of lesser quality, but it was the sentiment that mattered; her and Joseni each chose one to establish a matching pair.

An orange bracelet stood out to her immediately, and the decision was made.

Autumn had arrived soon after; the air carried a chill to mark the beginning of candle, blanket, and fireplace weather. She stretched her short legs across the couch, barely half the length, and bundled up with a tome. This would be the first season she’d have someone else’s clothes to wear; they took turns at the other’s apartment, often leaving shirts or other articles for the next visit. Dane could wear her own, yes, but the idea of swimming in Joseni’s oversized sweater seemed way more appealing.

From the folded pile in her top drawer, she chose one resembling his eyes.

The exchange didn't stop at clothing; they both had a growing collection of Dane's hair ties littering their apartments. Only a few were placed intentionally, but the rest had ended up in random spots. On countertops, tables, chairs, and shelves. In bags, jacket pockets, drawers, and baskets. Dane lost scrunchies as often as she found them. But they would always show themselves when needed.

A hair tie with marigold patterns caught her eye; the very same flower Joseni wore above his ear. She secured it on her wrist and left, making her way towards the city.

As she walked and admired the scenic path, she began braiding her hair. She loved the warmth of the Shroud's autumn trees, all varying reflections of red, orange, yellow, and brown. Dane recognized the scene as summer’s farewell, a greeting she once dreaded. But this turn, something changed. She held a fallen leaf and held it up to the sun, outlines of its veins prominent against the light.

And she was reminded of him.

His amber eyes that always gazed at her with such tenderness. The scarf he wore to The Elegy, always crooked in some manner that required her attention. The oversized sweater she chose when she needed that extra warmth and comfort. The woven bracelet she won at the festival. The scrunchie that held her braided hair together.

Those trivial, unconscious decisions were no coincidence. She saw him everywhere; things she already loved had greater depth. Her newfound appreciation for fall, the season she hated, even carried traces of him. So impactful that they changed her perspective completely, like seeing a new world for the first time.

It'd been another long and tiring workday for Dane. She made the journey home despite her longer commute from Limsa; a last minute decision to retire in her own bed rather than the inn’s. A gut feeling, maybe.

She crossed the bridge to Lily Hills and a familiar Miqo'te caught her eye near its front steps. Joseni slept peacefully, propped against the building, and still wearing his dirtied uniform. He must have waited several hours for her after work. That thought worried her, yes, but it was easily outweighed by infatuation.

This had been their life for several moons. A comfortable, yet awkward stage where the two danced around their feelings for one another. And it wasn't discreet either; others watched impatiently from the sidelines.

Dane never felt this way about someone before. Over time, innocent butterflies twisted into insecurity and possession. Seeing him every week wasn't enough to satisfy her. She wanted to be his with no lingering uncertainty. To have a place where she belonged, not just a vacancy to fill.

She quietly called his name and he stirred, smiling at her with tired eyes. Like he knew she'd be the one to wake him. And without hesitation, offered the single flower he held onto all afternoon; his excuse to see her. She’d never remember what type it was, or even the shape or color. In that moment, the image of his tender and adoring gaze was all she could see.

The Traveler was known to carry secrets of this star, some more inexplicable than others. One truth she didn't wish to be burdened with, however, was its inevitable end; it was difficult to process such an event. To grieve a future. Delivered in confidence by the previous occupant of her seat, the only soul she trusted wholeheartedly.

And so, Azem carried on as usual, her own quiet preparations underway. Intentions that betrayed the playful smile she so frequently wore.

Her carefree and aloof demeanor was often judged as bothersome, but still a worthy exchange for the rare occasion she offered invaluable perspective. The Convocation expected nothing less of a seat whose purpose became the voice of the world and its people. And to convey the thoughts and feelings of those unheard, she silenced her own.

Time and time again, the weight of their expectations had chipped away at her very being. She sought respite more often under the guise of duty; excuses to indulge in love and adventure rather than being used excessively.

It was no different as they began to witness the arrival of despair: The Final Days. And when it came to the fate of the star, her beloved haven, they disavowed Azem’s autonomy. Reduced to a body for the cause.

Her eyes carried an unwavering spark as she denied them this final time.

In those words, a rift formed. The burden of several tiny cracks weakened the foundation, which they built together over endless years. A quiet understanding that required no explanation, a tether woven by trust, yet fragile enough to tear if her consent was no longer part of the equation.

She turned to leave and became Alectrona once more.

Stripped of her title, though judgment had been an afterthought as they rushed to devise plans of self-sacrifice. Finding a replacement for the emptied seat would never come; she was the last to occupy it. To define it. And until she drew her final breath, it belonged to her.

Azem stood alone, her golden gaze observing endless red skies that razed the world she loved so dearly. A shepherd to the stars, now lost and robbed of her wanderlust. Her purpose. Her being. But at her final journey’s end, used and tired as she was, the Sun still had one soul to guide: her own.

It mattered not if her soul split into fragments. The Traveler’s legacy would continue to burn brightly and fervently; stars forming their own constellations over the heavens. A new generation to guide the lost, to help those in need. To evoke hope. Parts of her that would transcend any universe or reality. Her Heirlooms.

Much unlike herself, she prayed for their own free will. For selfishness. Even if they were but a fraction of her soul, they each deserved to be whole. To know life, pursue love, and savor adventure. To not be restricted by the truth of their existence, but to reach beyond the world she coveted. To create their own.

(Note: A meeting long overdue; vague visions of the future.)

Shaaloani. The region’s scorching heat, invasive sands, and unique variants of cactuars reminded Dane of Thanalan. She didn't mind all that much. In fact, she found the conditions favorable; her skin carried proof of a sun's love with its natural glow and she took to the dunes like a desert catfish. But those weren't the only reasons for her excitement; she was eager to see the land her found family called home.

She browsed Hhusatahwi’s stalls and storefronts alone; the afternoon was hers while others made themselves busy. Dane took interest in everything, even the affectionately-named junk shops. Familiar wood carvings of animals, spangles in assorted metals, and mechanical parts she pretended to recognize. Despite taking her sweet time at each stop, she still had time to kill.

And so, it was time for her backup plan. She left town and headed north, a route that seemed safe with constant traffic of merchants, hunters, commuters, and the occasional tumbleweed. At one point, she dropped her guard entirely and began reading a tome on the region’s population of animals. She hoped to see a coyote at least once during this trip.

“Lass?”

A man called out, pulling Dane from the chapter she had been studying. “Oh, sorry…” Her voice trailed off as she checked her pockets, then the dirt near her boots. She assumed she had dropped something. The Miqo'te stepped closer, holding his chin in thought.

“Yer, uh… tha’ lass, righ’? From th’ Shroud?” An odd thing to say, but also… eerily accurate. What gave it away? She'd hardly be judged as a native by her appearance. Suspicious. Dane stared, brows twisted and furrowed, failing to parse his question. A reaction that left nothing to the imagination. He started to laugh, ears wiggling under the fabric of his hat.

“Gods, tha’ look. Aye, yer th’ one.” He caught his breath and paused, unable to wipe the smile from his face. “...Suppose I didn' get yer name all them turns ago.”

He failed to elaborate still, leaving Dane to figure out what the hells the man rambled on about. She stared at him longer, hoping for an answer, and it finally came after recognizing the fishing rod protruding from his bag.

“...You can't be serious.” Dane breathed out.

The summer streets of Kugane were like no other; lanterns and fireworks painted the skies, endless stalls of activities and cuisine cluttered the city, and everyone dressed themselves in traditional attire. Moonfire Faire was wonderful, Dane wouldn't deny that, but this festival seemed more genuine and intimate than the tourist traps in La Noscea. Not that she would complain or hold herself in higher regard. Despite her own roots tracing back to this very land (or in this case, sea), she was still a tourist in name. Not enough pull in either direction to define her place.

Yet, it still felt natural navigating the city. Vendors called to her like they would any Raen, temptations of taiyaki, yakitori, and her other favorite selections of street food.

“Now you look like an angler, miss.” A man called out. Even if it was a sales pitch to attract customers, he wasn't exactly wrong. Dane wandered over to his stall, curious of the game's setup.

“Maybe so. Is that what you're looking for? People to win?”

“Aye, I've got plenty of fish here. If you can catch one, it's yours.” She leaned over the counter to take a closer look at his pond. Beautiful goldfish in a various patterns of black and orange gathered to the surface. The sight of people likely conditioned them to expect food. She smiled, eyeing each one with adoration. Even if it were a common species, their namesake scales glimmered under any source of light.

A little goldfish lagged behind the group, unable to maintain a straight path. Dane guessed one of its fins had issues. Seeing how eager it was to join the school despite its injury tugged at her heart.

“How do you play?”

The man laughed, demonstrating by casting the rod himself. Without bait, they seemed uninterested. But the motion from tugging at his line was enough for them to give chase. He reeled one in soon after.

“I'll take my chances.” She passed him enough gil in exchange for the rod. This would be harder than simply winning the game. Dane sunk her line into the pond for practice, far from the school. Once settled, she fixated on the prize she wanted.

Many attempts followed, all cut short right before the catch. The stall owner noticed this, confused by the Raen’s intentions. Twenty or so fish were intentionally ignored.

That little fish swam in circles and figure-eights, struggling with its own existence. It noticed the lure once or twice, enough to be distracted away from the group. And finally, when the goldfish decided it was worth the hassle, it stalked her line. In a pitiful way, of course, but Dane had patience just this once. It took a calculated wide turn with its good fin, and then, a bite. She gently raised it from the water and smiled at the man. Now he understood.

“All that fanfare for a little one.” He scooped pond water into a container along with her prize. “It takes a lot of skill to pick the catch you want.” Sprinkling a bit of food in, the fish happily surfaced for its meal.

The human experience is a constant cycle of suffering and healing. Both are often tested, usually against the other, and thus determining one's growth and progress. Each carries their own artillery, intending to either uncover deeper wounds or resilient strength. Ripping a bandage too soon, or keeping it on for too long.

As every person on this star is unique, so too is their cycle’s measure. The speed at which it rounds, the fuel that maintains steady rotation. Most were aware of their pain and fears through trials and tribulations, potential triggers to activate the trap. Even with precise and careful steps, one risked imprisonment.

That fear, the catalyst that dragged Dane back to the darkest place of her heart, was loneliness. She could manage disappointment and failure with work; her results were tangible proof bearing integrity and a determined work ethic. It was nothing short of an inevitability that she saw things through.

As always, interpersonal relationships were her greatest foe. And despite being alone throughout her entire childhood, isolation became the woman's greatest fear.

The first time this particular pain hit her chest was one of Dane’s earliest memories. A girl of only four summers met with cruelty by her two siblings. Children that young knew nothing of the world at such an age unless told otherwise. In this case, it was the nature of her existence and adoption. They gradually distanced themselves, eventually joining the city’s children to bully her. She didn’t understand why being adopted meant they could no longer be her brother and sister. Weren’t they still a family living under the same roof? Yes, but only to keep her father’s good name. Behind closed doors, the answer was a resounding no.

It came to her again one morning in the Shroud. She visited that same fishing spot every day, greeted by the friendly angler. But he didn’t show up. She thought nothing of it until the following day. And the next. Then, after several weeks, the delusion was laid to rest at the riverbank. He wasn’t coming back. He didn’t even say goodbye.

Turns later, Dane paced her apartment. It was cluttered with boxes packed with her belongings. A new chapter began moments later, but not in the way she had hoped. Rather than bidding her home goodbye to start fresh with another, she stood abandoned. Two cups of cold tea on the table. Boxes were emptied, and she returned to her rightful place: alone, in bed.

Tension filled the air. Dane looked down at her trembling hand, unable to accept what she just witnessed. It was a different apartment this time, and the brother and sister standing before Dane resembled her own. Returning to that moment when she felt small. Helpless. Family was just a decorative term, a conditional one. If she met the requirements, and Gods did she try. Unless the bond was shared through blood, she was simply optional. History repeated itself; those snickers slipped past the throbbing pain in her head: You still haven't learned your place? And then, she ran.

The line between summer and autumn blurred; cicadas still sang in unison, yet chilled air swept through the trees. Dane salvaged these days if the sun presented itself, which brought her to this specific stump in the Shroud. She sat as a behaved child would, practicing embroidery patterns Niamh gifted her. Still awful at them, of course, but she kept at it so long as her patience remained.

“You're getting good at those!” Niamh chirped, peeking at Dane's progress between shots.

“Not… really,” she sighed, tilting her head to inspect her work. As if that would change her perception.

“Well, you're working faster than before. Still improvement!” Dane hadn't considered the thought. Too focused on her dodo that resembled a wet cotton boll instead of her favorite animal. It looked just like her crude drawings, which irritated the hells out of her. How could two pieces of art look identical using completely different tools?

“...That's true. Thank you.” Despite her differing opinion, it was still important to acknowledge the kind words of others. The behaved child comment was applicable to her in many ways. Which led Dane to her follow-up comment. “You haven't missed a single one.”

They sat in the forest's clearing, a favorable spot for both activities. Dane soaked up the season's remaining sunshine while fumbling with a needle and thread, and Niamh scoped out a variety of targets to hone her archery skills. Though it was hardly necessary since the Elezen had an excellent shot. Whether it be a squirrel, boar, or rabbit, she never missed. But never birds; she was too fond of them.

Dane knew when to watch. They conversed incessantly the entire afternoon, but a silent moment meant Niamh was focused. The bowstring stretched, arrow nocked, then released. A fluid motion that lasted mere seconds.

“I might just be lucky today.” She retrieved another arrow from her quiver, already anticipating the next shot. “But even if I missed a bunch, I still get to spend the day with you!” Dane dipped her head in agreement, sealing the sentiment with a genuine smile.