laonii

I was super happy I managed to get my FC’s house upgraded when the patch dropped.

She’d woken up in a cold sweat, still fully clothed, with the moonlight filtering in between the leaves of her plants. Her sleep had been fitful, but she only remembered the final dream. Running through Garamsythe on Revti, feeling the tunnels shake and explosions above as mortars fell, in some endless maze. Calling for Hatia, for Faol, for her companions of the Suncrest, hearing no reply. Seeing the waterways beginning to run red with blood, getting thick and viscous and sticky as if it were the substance itself.

Running, ever runninig.Never time to pause and rest, or think.

The explosions got louder.

A final roar, and the ceiling cracked above, and not only did the rocks fall, but blod with it, sliding down her throat and clogging her nose as she could feel herself crushed under the stone.

After Talan had paid them for the work they did, Nerine had retreated quickly to her room, clicking the lock shut behind her. The whole mission, it had left her shaken. Lazily, she dumped her payment on her coffee table, a few gil coins falling into a forgotten cup of tea, before she retreated further, into the small section she had used as a bed room. Absently, she wondered if the company would have minded her turning a whole wall into a flourishing garden as she clambered into the bed, pressing her whole body close to the greenery.

We succeeded...

Her mind’s eye flashed back to Tovu, beaten and being supported on his feet by his companions, calling his fellow miners to arms. To Sela, taking the belt of bombs from her with determination in her eyes. To the fray they had thrown themselves in after the flaming man...nay, demon, had left.

And finally to the faces of those miners who survived, hugging them, hugging their compatriots. Thanking their group for giving them the opportunity. For stepping in to ensure their victory. Their joy, their gratitude. Their freedom.

Nerine choked back a quiet sob, a mixture of pain, relief and joy.

Tachi’s words leapt to her mind, about their homelands, their individual paths of liberation. Or...failure to, in Nerine’s case. That failure, again and again.

I talk a big game... No doubt he’d think as Hatia does, knowing everything.

Nerine did not know the Garamsythe Waterways as well as Hatia did. But still, she had to try. Hatia hadn’t come back last night. And with the Witch of Dalmasca lurking in the city...

Nerine didn’t want to think of it.

She took the way she knew; the twisting, turning path to the headquarters of Suncrest, the rebllion group they both worked for. Or had worked for, in Nerine’s case. She could still hear Hatia’s voice in her ears, dripping with venom, calling her a coward, before she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

It was the last she would see her sister.

Skidding at a full run into where the base of operations had been...Nerine’s heart sunk. Alcoves once filled with materiel and people were empty. The main room was abandoned, larger pieces ofd furniture left behind, but obviously, there had been no struggle. A methodical packing of the required materials, and then the base abandoned.

And Hatia with it, no doubt...

Nerine felt the wax seal on her permit to live in Kugane had barely set before she had resolved to leave it.

The city itself...was fine. The culture was strange to her, yes, and not everyone spoke her language. But like Rabanastre, it was a melting pot, people from all walks could be found here, and if she felt homesick, she could find a vendor selling Dalmascan food, or find other refugees like herself. If it weren’t for that one thing, she could easily see herself settling here.

But that one thing was an insurmountable boundary, in her eyes.

Despite the goingson in Othard, despite the things she had begun to learn about the Empire’s doings further afield into Aldenard, despite hearing stories from those who had fled like her...Kugane maintained neutrality with Garlemald. They had an embassy. They were treated just the same as anyone else. And it grated on her, wore against her already frayed heart.

Playing games of chance with Faol was an exercise in futility.

Alja had seen it so many times, Hatia and Faol playing cards in their downtime, while she sat by them, slowly repairing and fletching arrows for her hunt. Hatia had a good poker face, certainly, and the drive for victory. But Faol’s was immaculate, and...she had a few extra allies.

The trees would rustle, even though no wind had blown, and Faol would pause, fingertips dragging across the tops of the cards, before she would make the perfect move. Hatia would only get more determined to win, overlooking Faol’s easily spotted cheating, in a bid that she could outplay her. It would go on and on, until the night began to fall, or Hatia stormed off in frustration. Faol would then give Alja a wink, with the hints of a smile curling onto her face.

“...It’s all gone, Revti.” Nerine pressed her face into her chocobo’s beak, as he trilled softly at the contact. They were still coated in soot, dirt and sand, saddle haphazardly strapped to Revti’s back, and both trembling. They could still smell the smoke and cereleum in the air, and on the horizon she could still see the ruins of Rabanastre aglow with flame. Nerine had, somehow, gotten out astride Revti, though it had been closer than she would like to admit.

And she had seen no sign of Hatia on the way.

Another home lost.

Another sister gone.

“...What am I supposed to do...?”

“Lady Perrault, they’re here.” Carlin looked up from her desk, a smile breaking onto her face at the maid that had brought her the news. She stepped out from behind her desk, straightening her skirts as she left the room. The maid followed her down the hall, and motioned for her to step into one of the manor’s lounges. There waiting for her were a number of craftsmen, looking as if they’d just stepped off the worksite, and looking very uncomfortable in their plush surroundings, as well as scruffy, yet proud looking man, sitting with his arms crossed, and eyeing Carlin with suspicion.

“Please, sit, all of you. I want to hear of progress.” The craftsmen took their seats awkwardly, before one spoke up.

“Well, uhh, ma’am..we...”

“Please. Carlin is fine.”

“...Righ’...Carlin...It’s, uh, in simple terms, all done. The bones were all good, just needed some reinforcin’. Furnishin’ was easy enough.”

She couldn’t hide the beaming smile that came across her face, and she bowed her head gratefully to the craftsman who had been speaking. The other man though, scoffed, leaning forward in his chair. He jabbed a finger at the young noble as he spoke, punctuating each word.

“And none of tha’ explains why I’m here. What, you here to rub your houses in my face?”

Carlin remained calm, folding her hands in her lap.

“No, Edward. I wish to offer it to you. And to the families, the children of the Brume.”

“Pfft, no doubt to wring taxes out of us.”

“No. The deed will be yours to do with as you wish. I only have but one request in return.”

He gave her a dark, suspicious look.

“The bottom floor is equipped as a kitchen, eating hall, and nursery. My only request is you use those facilities to the fullest, to help support those orphaned by the Dragonsong War. I’ll ensure that there’s enough supplies, and people will be paid for their work. I just need able bodies to do this.”

Alja had quietly slipped away from her sisters as night fell. She knew Hatia would have harsh words if she saw her cry, and though there would be no malice behind them, Alja’s heart was still raw.

They’d returned to the village, to find it aflame. Whether the Garlean bombardment that had fallen upon hit by design or chance, she would never know, but now, the only home she had known was burning. Faol was the first to spring into action, calmly listening to the voice of the Wood to guide her, to find the wounded, to help others escape. While Hatia and Alja had panicked, Faol remained unflappable. After saving as many as she could, she lead her sisters out into the depths of the forest, saving them too.

Her face buried in her arms, curled up sitting on the ground, she felt someone sit next to her. She needed no words to know it was Faol, as an arm wrapped around, she was pulled against Faol’s chest. They sat in relative silence for a while, until Alja’s tears were spent, before she lifted her head, red eyes meeting Faol’s pale pink.

“You’re torn, little one.”

Alja did not deny it, instead looking away in guilt. Faol hummed ever so slightly, before gently tilting Alja’s head back up with a finger.

“You know Hatia intends to leave. She hears only the roar of the flames of rage, it drowns out the Wood. And you know I must stay. Revti is not gone. It remains, here.”

She pressed that finger to Alja’s chest, over her heart.

“Our paths are set. But you, little one. You stand at our crossroads. You do not have long to decide, and I am sorry for that. But know. We are always together, no matter the distance.”

“...Will she hate me?”

The wind rustled through the boughs, and Faol gave Nerine a gentle smile, before leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“The Wood could never hate her daughters. Her heart breaks, she desperately longs for those who leave, but hate? Never.”

“Will you?”

“Our hearts are as one, little one. That’s a silly question.”

They stayed like that for a moment before, before Faol pressed a kiss to the top of Alja’s head, releasing her and standing. 

Hatia,

I hope you are safe. I know if you ever received this letter, you'd curse by name, burn the pages and never speak of it again, and yet I can't help but to write. Not that I have an address to send it to. So, I apologise twofold for my selfishness.

Did you disappear into the waterways like you had hoped? I never saw your name on the lists of those killed for rebelling. I checked, every day. I pray you did. Better to have been hiding away down there than in the city square when the bombardment began.

I know, I hear your voice even now. 'You are but a coward, and had you cared you would know my fate.'. Our parting haunts me, and, I wish I could be as brave as you. But we both know that I never had that flame.

I don't need forgiveness, and, you were never one to give it.

“You still invest time to this? It has been far too long Alja. I do not think it will hatch”

Hatia’s brow furrowed from the doorway, leaning against the jam and looking down upon her sister, who was kneeling in a bed of hay. Their Rabanastran apartment had a tiny chocobo stall attached, which, had been left unused and abandoned for long before they had moved in, but now, occupied a mottled, tan egg.

Nerine had been outside the city when she found one of the native red chocobos crumpled and abandoned, bleeding from the gunshot wounds the Garlean patrol had left, and surrounded by cracked and crumbling rocks. She raised her head at Nerine’s approach, a long, weak warble coming from her throat, and scraped her feet against the earth, trying and failing to garner the strength to stand and fight. Pulling a ration from her bag, the last for this trip, Nerine had crept closer to the chocobo, and set it in the bird’s reach, cooing to the bird the whole while. Minutes passed while the chocobo sized Nerine up, who crouched before it, before it seemed to deem her no threat, slowly and painfully eating the rations left before it. Nerine took the opportunity to shuffle closer, examining the wounds left, though, it was a futile move. She already knew the answer of if the chocobo could be saved.

I cannot do much for her...these wounds are far greater than anything I can patch. All I can do is be merciful

“Why did you fight, girl? A fearsome enough assault to drive them away, but why?” She expected no answer in return, but as she scanned the area...she discovered why. Nestled between some rocks, a well camoflagued nest, with an egg. She gently rested a hand on the mother’s haunch, who looked back at her with her inky, black eyes, warbled once more...and let her head rest down against the sands, no longer having the strength to hold it aloft. She reached forward to run her fingers through the feathers on the bird’s head.

“They are safe, warrioress of the sands. And I will continue your legacy, I assure you. You can rest easy in that knowledge.”

She took the hunting knife from her belt, and once more the mother looked up to Nerine, but, there seemed to be quiet understanding in her eyes, and she did not struggle as Nerine put her out of her pain. Nerine then secreted the egg, and as much of the nest as she could manage, into her bag, before heading back to the city.

Hatia opened her mouth, eager to say something else, before she was cut off by a loud crack that surprised her and Nerine both, as something impacted the egg from inside. It was not long before a beak punched through the shell, and cracks spread across the shell from that point. From there, the chick made short work of its shell, violently pecking and pushing and struggling until it had all fallen away. It met Nerine’s gaze with beady, black eyes, ruffling its still sticky crimson feathers, before kweh’ing as loud as its lungs would let it, both insistent and defiant.