An icy wind drew Nhaji to hold her steaming cup of soup closer, willing the warmth to reach past the steel container and spread through her body. Gods, it was chilly. Her cup was set down for a moment so she could rub her hands together, forcing a bit of extra warmth into her system. Her coat was doing nothing to keep her warm right now.

“Chilly night, ain’t it?”

The silence of the open ocean was cut by a voice, now familiar to her. Nhaji turned her head over enough to catch sight of the burly Sea Wolf striding up from below deck. She lifted her cup as a wordless greeting, gaze drifting back over to the star-filled horizon.

“Aye, s’ a bit. Pretty one though,” she murmured back, tail swaying to and fro. It really was a pretty night; stardust danced through the inky sky, and with the moon full there was more than enough light to enjoy the ocean view.

So often she found herself staring up at the night sky, watching the stars as they lit up and faded away behind clouds or drifting smoke… A soft, wistful sigh escaped from her, lips twitching into a small smile.

“It is, it is. Glad ye’ve got yer’ sea legs by now.” Gruff as he looked, Nhaji had learned by now that the Sea Wolf - an older fellow by the name of Swarstyr - was gentle enough at heart. The clap to her shoulder was expected this time, earning a faint chuckle and a quick elbowing in response.

“So, ‘o is it?”

That question, however, brought a cock of her head. Who was what? The question rang out in her head. It was enough to get her to look back to the man again, brow lofting up with some apparent confusion. “Eh?” was her initial answer, tail twitching in thought.

A low chuckle rang out from the man, his gaze turning skyward. “I’ve been sailin’ long enough ta’ pick up a thing ‘er two. When folk stare up at th’ sky at night that way on these longer voyages, they’re always thinkin’ a’ someone. So, ‘o is it?”

..Hrmph. Was she that readable. Bright, glowing orange eyes rolled in some indignation before returning to their starry vista. “Ah.. S’ a girl back west. Sky like this reminds me of ‘er.”

“Har! Didn’t take a scrappy lass like you fer’ the romantic sort!” The Sea Wolf barked back with a laugh, sending another firm clap at her shoulder. This time Nhaji turned over, smirking back to the older man with a roll of her shoulders.

“Yeah, well, don’t expect much more outta’ me. Ain’t th’ type ta’ go spillin’ those thoughts everywhere, eh? Jus’ keepin’ conversation goin’.”

And yet, despite her assurances otherwise, she felt more words bubbling up. Figures. That habit of talking to herself was bound to make her more keen on talking with others in turn....

“...Th’ colours are th’ same, mostly. Gleamin silver and dustins’ of purple. Lotta’ black ‘n white… Sometimes chilly. Mostly ta’ others.” Her fingers drummed slowly over her mug, tail beginning its idle swaying once more. “Can’t help but miss her on these longer voyages. We ain’t around eachother all a’ th’ time, sure, but… She’s rarely more ‘n a quick walk away.”

Her shoulder tensed up for a moment, anticipating the hand that would send another smack its way, though it never came. Swarstyr folded his arms over his front, attention moving from his passenger to the starry sky. 

“Aye, it can get lonesome out at sea. Hear that a lot from the folks travellin’ on their own. Just be sure ta’ go pay this girl a’ yours a visit once ye’ get back, eh? Reckon she’d appreciate th’ visit.”

Nhaji lifted her cup, taking a slow drink from the steaming contents within. The warmth that filled her core and spread through her limbs was a comfort, for sure. She set it down on the railing of the ship just beside her, scratching behind a horn while her smile grew wider.

The library she’d wormed her way into was a vast one; it took a few minutes of wandering for her to find the section she thought would contain what she needed, and even then she needed to drag a ladder with her. At this hour she had the run of the place, the only sound echoing through the old halls being the occasional thud of another book hitting the floor. She’ll have to set them all back in their place eventually, but for now… For now the act was cathartic.

In defense of the curator of this library, Nhaji had been told that what she sought may not be contained within his volumes. “Matters of the soul are poorly researched”, he’d told her. Helpful. 

She took up a large mug of coffee, grimacing as she downed the room-temperature mixture, and wiped her mouth dry. “Poorly researched my arse, books on it don’t even ex-.. Ah!”

Finally, a title with some promise; ‘Aether, Body, Mind; Aetheric Manipulation and Mental Strain’. Wordy as all hells, but it was the best-sounding one so far. Nhaji shuffled back, flicking the book open and settling it on her lap. No time to get down from the ladder, there were answers to be found. Maybe.

“...Aether comes part and parcel with life, so it stands to reason that strain on a living beings aether would be reflected in strain on their body and mind. Much the same, injury to a being’s body and mental state would send ripples through their personal reserves of aether, reflections therein representing fluctuations in…” Dusk Mother, get to the point already. Why did these sciency-tomes have to use so many words to say so little?

The deeper Nhaji sank into the book, the more her irritation seemed to grow. Her brow twitched, tail flickering and thumping against the edge of the ladder. “Adrenaline can increase flow of aether within… Ugh..” Nhaji pinched at the bridge of her nose, rubbing at the corners of her eyes with her thumb and forefinger.

“Ya’know what? Close enough. Grab this one…” And into the satchel it went; a large, burlap sack rested by her side, the half-dozen or so books tossed therein soon finding a partner in Nhaji’s latest find.

Throwing herself legs-first from the top of the ladder, Nhaji landed with a thud. Not unlike those of the many books she’d discarded, if quite a bit heavier. She took a moment to dust off her knees, glancing down the aisle.. And frowning.

Apparently, ‘throw any books that aren’t what you’re looking for to the floor’ was not an idea unique to her. That, or this library had an interesting way of organizing their books. The moments pause was all she afforded the sight, soon shrugging and pulling her large satchel about her shoulder.

“Good enough haul…” The Xaela rumbled, running a hand back through her hair and letting out a low sigh. “Might drop by again some time.”

Perhaps it was the warmth. Usually she felt so cold in this time; like the warmth of life had already left her body, yet she still stubbornly clung to it out of spite. But this time she felt warm. Comfortable. It rose from her chest and spread through her body, filling her with a sense of life. Keeping her in comfort.

Well, except for her arm. That didn’t feel like it was there. 

Hrm. That was a concerning thought.

Nhaji forced her eyes to creak open. They answered her demand begrudgingly, lifting half-open so she might get a blurry glimpse of the room around her. The soft, gentle glow of the Charter’s infirmary was as a flashlight in her eyes in her current state. Slowly, she willed her gaze to roll to the side, staring toward the empty space she felt in place of her left arm.

A breathless sigh of relief. Good, good. It was still there. All but invisible beneath layer upon layer of bandaging, but it was there. She just… Couldn’t feel it. Her brow furrowed- or at least it tried to. Moving was hard. Why couldn’t she..?

Her right hand twitched. Fingers curled, tips pressed against her palm. She could feel that, feel the digits move. That arm answered her call, screaming forth with a familiar jolt of pain. As she attempted with her left… Nothing. Nearly nothing; in that empty void of feeling, one part of her index finger twitched.

That couldn’t be good.

Nhaji wasn’t exactly a physician, but she knew that not feeling something in part of your body was typically a bad thing. Numbness was one thing, but this was more than that; it was an utter lack of sensation. As if that part of her wasn’t even there.

Her gaze shifted upwards, rolling lazily to stare up at the ceiling. The fact she was in the infirmary meant that their little mission was successful. If they’d failed, it wasn’t exactly like there’d be anyone left to drag her here.

What time of day was it? ..Night, probably. Normally there’d be people around. Xio at the very least, fussing over a patient or working on some new bit of magic… Definitely night.

Allowing her body to go lax once again, Nhaji let out the faintest, weakest sigh she had in quite a long time. Well, nothing for it then. Best to just rest up, let the physicians do their work, and eventually get back on her feet.

Nhaji - or Galarslan, if you’d ask any other soul that called the Steppe home - furrowed her brow and cursed under her breath as another shrill note creaked out from the old instrument, another horse-hair string whining and fraying beneath her clumsy pressure.

“Third time this swivin’ night…”

According to those who knew her in previous lives, Galarslan - a name that apparently represented her through countless lifetimes, though now rang strangely foreign to her - was as skilled with a morin khuur as they were with a blade. To her them wield their instrument, perched at some clifftop in the night, was to know beauty.  Her own mother, the staunchest believer in this fact, was the one who provided her with the instrument in the first place, complete with a bundle of strings to use as replacements when it inevitably grew damaged.

“Load a’ shite…” Nhaji rumbled under her breath, leaning back into a more comfortable position and setting about the task of releasing the strings from her instrument. “‘Least it’s somethin’ ta’ do.”

But it was more than that, wasn’t it? The morin khuur sat in her lap was more than just an idle pastime. It was a link. One of many in a chain she was struggling to mend, let alone string together, winding back through the lifestream time and time again…

“‘Till something severed it.” Great, now she’s talking to herself. Her teeth grit, grinding lightly against themselves as she discarded the damaged strings. There were still plenty of the replacements in the case, it was just a matter of carefully winding them through....

“Now it’s all messed up. Yer’ name don’t sound right, th’ faces around here are foreign ta’ you, even yer’ own mothers, and you’re sittin’ here scramblin’ ta’ put back th’ pieces of who people say you used ta’ be. Those that believe you, anyways.”

A small twist of the tuning pegs and a twang of the strings had her horns all but ringing. No, too tight. Loosen them a bit to get the sound right....

“That’s fine though, Nhaji. Galarslan. Whatever. You ain’t exactly a stranger ta’ hardship ‘n struggle. Swordfightin’ didn’t exactly come to ya’ naturally, ye’ just didn’t have any strings ta’ break then.”

Another experimental pluck at the strings. This time, she gave a small, approving nod to herself. Serviceable. Enough so for practice, at least. She wouldn’t go dazzling the hearts and souls of her tribesmates with this thing, but that was fine. They weren’t the intended audience.

Small rituals like this - adding more blue to her wardrobe, picking up the spear, the bow, the morin khuur - they were all little acts of defiance. Revenge. She didn’t leave this life willingly, after all. Far from it. And returning now, re-introducing herself to the part of her once lost… There was a certain, almost petty satisfaction to it. She’d have her proper revenge, of course - something bloody, violent, explosive and final - but smaller acts like this had their place too.

Breathing out a deep sigh, Nhaji let her shoulders relax. The bow of the instrument was taken up, her stance re-affirmed… She was still clumsy as all hells with this thing, but with a bit of practice and a lot of stubbornness, she’d have it down eventually.

…

Hidden somewhere in the Steppe, tucked away past mountains and valleys, there sat a solitary, homely little Yurt by a pond. The glow of fire and the smells of smoke and meat drifted past the wooden entryway, inviting those who knew of its location to enjoy the comfort held within.

For one typically so study and sure-footed, the way the rocking of the waves swept her balance away came as all-too-concerning surprise. Clutching at the old wooden railing of the ship, Nhaji pulled herself from her hunched-over position to stand straight. Shielding her eyes from the glare of the mid-day sun, she squinted off at the horizon. Still a few suns’ travel.

“Just gettin’ my.. Urgh… Balance…”

If her slurred words didn’t give away the lie, the quick gesture to wipe the last of the muck from her lips did her in. The grizzled old Sea Wolf next to her delivered a clap to her back that threatened to send the last of her lunch back into the ocean, though soon settled the hand on her shoulder.

“Aye, sure. There ain’t no shame in a bitta’ seasickness. Common fer’ people making these long journeys, especially when it’s their first time.” Following the woman’s gaze out into the horizon, the old man scrunched his eyes in turn. “Forgive an old sailors curiosity. What’s an Eorzean ‘venturer got fer’ business in Kugane of all places? Locked up tighter than the Admiral’s brig, those folks.”

Nhaji took in a slow breath, The hand at her forehead slipped backward, scratching her fingers back through her hair before dropping by her side. She spared the man a short glance, searching for some intent behind his question… And at last shrugging. There’d be no harm in a bit of exposition.

“Just usin’ it as a stopping point. I can go from there ta’ the coast of Yanxia, and from there t’ the Steppe. One more gods-damned boat trip, then it’s dry land…”

The old sailor’s grin lowered then, a low edge growing across the corners of his brow. “Best shore up yer’ sea legs then, lass. If ye’ mean to head through the Ruby Sea, ye’ll be in fer’ a rougher trip than this. Between Imperial vessels and the Confederate’s Ruby Tithe, those waters’re far from calm.”

- - - - -

Joy. Rougher waters. The very thought of it had her tail, always active and animated, to fall limp against the deck of the ship. “Hells.” Was all she said back, lowering her gaze from the horizon to the waters below. 

The thrum of the airships motors had long gone quiet, giving way to the softer sound of the waves lapping against the hull. Nhaji sat back, perched against the edge of a large, circular window rail, gazing off into the golden sunset.

The ship still rocked, swaying gently to the tune of the waves it rested within, but she felt no discomfort. Between long journeys and longer moons spend in the air or at sea, she’d more than gotten used to the movement beneath her feet. Hells, she could even drink through it now. 

“Nhaji.”

The call cut through the silence, tickling over the crack in her horn and lifting her attention away from the window. Her attention, not her eyes. “Aye? Any news?”

“The others have returned from their scouting missions. With their findings, we hould have information enough to consider making a move.”