A Quiet Atonement

... Provided those in need of counseling heed the advice.

The tight time frame for the shipment forced the convoy to make a brash decision; a short cut through the side of a mountain via an old tunnel. Nyx made sure to warn her fellow guards about potential cave-ins and to properly prepare, but she knew not to meddle too much with fate, lest she wants an unpredictable outcome.

Despite her cautionary advice, only a few guards prepared well, the others dismissing her advice as childish worries. So when the rumble of laughter turned to the thunder of falling rocks, Nyx's expression only paled, dreading the long hours stuck with this brutish bunch.

Her eyes turn to a fellow guard sent by the monastery. One seeming in desperate need of coin. After all, why else would you not have a shirt on during an escort mission.

"You," she says, staring upwards at a man two feet taller than herself, offering him a pickaxe.

"Fortune says that you here are the most capable when it comes to playing with dirt," And most vexing when it came to conversing.

"Let us see if all that training is just for show."

She crosses her arms. Her voice mirrors the stranger's demeanor of calm, even if the words they exchange have an aura of aggression. Emotions are exposure, and feigning neutrality is the only way they can shore up their defenses. Besides, to be called a child doesn't faze her—many have made the mistake of undermining her, as this one seems to be doing—even if it is still terribly ironic coming from the girl who looks even younger than she does.

Yuni takes another step forward. The dead leaves crunch beneath her sandals, slightly wet. She does not get close; too close, at least. She is at the right distance to survey this girl, but far enough away that it does not look like a confrontation. Not yet. Moving too quickly could cost her the investigation. Similarly, however, moving too slowly could lead to even more chaos and destruction. She will not so quickly forget what happened in Joachim's village, and all the other villages like it.

The girl's demeanor tells stories of practiced wariness, not one born of youthful haste. Her gaze is practiced, something only gained after much experience, and even more doubt.

Perhaps my initial assessment was poor.

Whether it be the cold damp air weighing on her or the surprise of an unexpected meeting, something about this interaction felt off. This girl had an agenda. One that may be connected to recent uproar with the Alliance.

"I don't entertain idle chatter, so rumors often elude me." True, in this case. Nyx often wasn't privy to rumors since most of her time was spent in the library. But she knew those kind of rumors weren't what the girl was asking. The mage's eyes trail upward, observing the moon severed sky.

"Could you be on a midnight stroll? Or..." Nyx approaches slightly closer now, exchanging the neutral distance for a confrontational one. Her look more testing than before.

However, at the mention of a peculiar large shop with an even larger selection of tomes and items, Nyx just has to verify. Even if what a minuscule fraction of what they speak holds truth, then it must be pursued.

After all, a remedy to her curse might be present. A siphoning ailment that pollutes her every waking moment. The heavy years cannot weigh her devotion to a search. Every little lead must be followed, despite how taxing or true it is. 

How cruel a thing hope is.

Though, something that the rumors conveniently forgot to detail was the need for a ridiculous card. To guard at the store front, Nyx crosses her arms and furrows her brow, "You mean to tell me that in order to be a patron, I must possess a card or be spoken for? How obsessed. To reject one's coin simply because it doesn't have that 'romantic gleam'."

She turns her back to the store front, her pride ready to move her feet, but her desperation forces them to stay. A torrent of frustration builds, soon to be met with an exhale, venting all her pent up thoughts.

She must get in. A store truly that big must have hints on how to reveal her true self, or perhaps how to revert her form. This possibility absolutely cannot be passed up.

So now she turns to the crowd, and to the first free person she spots, one donning fiery red hair, she approaches, "Pardon me. May I please have a moment of your time?"

Now that he is in front of her she truly realizes what a character she has picked out. Looming over her, his stare is met with her unwavering gaze.

I really did choose quite the character.

"Young man, I require your aid. Could you please pretend to be my lover?"

Moments earlier... Matthias had found himself waiting. A store this large begets a line just as long and he has no qualms about such a thing. Rushing to the front will do little for him and it's not as though it's stood still. Though the pace is a crawl, to move is to move.

These are his thoughts before the most baffling of questions is asked by, frankly, most baffling a person.

She comes from the front, yet her arms are devoid of wares or any such trinket from the shop. Dismissed at the entrance then. For what reason he cannot fathom aside from looking to her question.

He looks about them at the others in the line. Were they all just waiting to be turned away if they weren't holding hands or here with their lover? What of those with 'lovers' far away? He doubts they would turn a profit, even with the monastery's population, if their criteria for entry were so restrictive.

And did she just call him a young man?

Matthias finally sighs, the beginning of his response. His glove is pulled off as the second part of it and he holds his hand out such that his ring finger is visible. Around it are two ring like marks, one mostly covered by an actual silver ring. "I'm not keen on a third marriage," -to say nothing of the fact that before him is most certainly a student.

"Ah, but a word of caution. They only accept patronage from those with a special card and in order to obtain said card, one must be in a relationship." Her tone flat, undercut by a tinge of annoyance, not directed towards the stranger, but towards the shop as a whole.

"Should I ask another? I cannot let this opportunity pass." Words for herself, but not spoken so quietly that the stranger couldn't hear.

Even a chance at finding a hint of a way to fix her would be more than enough. The absence of progress isn't proof of a lack of effort, but rather a testament to how momentous this goal she seeks truly is.

If I knew faculty were forced to help out with the cleaning of the hall, I would have cursed myself ahead of time. That's the last time I let the Monastery get the jump on me.

Thankfully, there were fellow victims cleaning with her. Grief shared is divided and what not. What the sharing does at least means others must suffer the fate with her for once. Though cruel and slightly sinister, the feeling does bring a sense of comfort.

Turning to a nearby casualty, she speaks, not out of curiosity, but out of a fleeting sense of camaraderie, "So winged one, what failed excuse brought you here?"

A cough escapes as she clears her throat and turns to face professor, "For better or for worse, it seems that we are partners in this investigation. You may refer to me as Nyx."

Soon after her introduction, Nyx's attention turns back to the letter. The message was encoded. An obvious sign that the content of the message was to be hidden. Meaning that the puzzle is merely a second layer of defense for whatever information is to be concealed.

"What do you think of the message?" A simple question yes, but a very useful one. Questions like such are often used to gauge one's capabilities, just as Nyx is now, primed to scrutinize whatever thoughts leave the big hat's mouth. After all an incompetent ally is more dangerous than a competent enemy.

When met with the child's eyes, they would greet her with a slight smile, one born from the soft happiness of seeing such a devoted daughter helping her parent move in. In turn, they were met with curt words and annoyed glares, motivating them to carry on with whatever tasks they had.

All morning these bystanders would observe, and the attention and lack of aid was starting to get on Nyx’s nerve, so much so that the next person to appear was her last straw. “That’s it! I am not some exhibit for your viewing pleasure. Make haste lest you yearn to be cursed.“ 

Yet when she faces the bystander, her heart stops and eyes widen. “Corin? This is where the years have landed you?“ Her cheeks rose slightly before she assumes a more neutral stance, arms crossed. “Well I apologize for raising my voice. The physical exhaustion from moving must have taken its toll on my patience." 

There is an awkward silence between the two for a moment as words ball up in her throat. Though her heart regrets requesting aid and burdening a comrade, in her long years, she knows when she is truly beat. “If time is your ally, could you spare a few moments? I haven’t gotten my credentials and permissions squared away with the office so I am not authorized to use magic to help me sort through all my items. I could use the assistance. I will compensate you generously if you choose to accept."

Instead of seeking out popular shops with different chains and locations, Nyx prefers to be a patron to smaller stores, ones whose aesthetic are more personal and cozy. And the next cafe on her list happened to have quite a unique gimmick.

The chime on the door rings clear as the sound of claws and cat toys fill the air. Her movements freeze, brows furrowing at the site of the furry creatures who occupy the cafe.

So this is why the cafe is so popular.

Cats were one of the more tolerable animals, but the concept of random cat hair damaging the books had always dissuaded her from getting one. That and the constant presence of a battle field and enemy fire.

Yet the popularity of cats seemed to surpass Nyx's expectation, as the lack of seating began to alarm her. Though, like a gentle river to a weary traveler, a familiar head of green hair is a welcome site.

Ah, she is the one from the ball. Quite the calm one for a student. Maybe if it is her...

"Pardon me," she says, approaching the table, "I believe we met once before at the ball." She stops a few steps from the table, carefully studying her expression. "I hate to suggest this, but would you mind if I impose upon you once more?"

However, at the mention of a peculiar large shop with an even larger selection of tomes and items, Nyx just has to verify. Even if what a minuscule fraction of what they speak holds truth, then it must be pursued.

After all, a remedy to her curse might be present. A siphoning ailment that pollutes her every waking moment. The heavy years cannot weigh her devotion to a search. Every little lead must be followed, despite how taxing or true it is. 

How cruel a thing hope is.

Though, something that the rumors conveniently forgot to detail was the need for a ridiculous card. To guard at the store front, Nyx crosses her arms and furrows her brow, "You mean to tell me that in order to be a patron, I must possess a card or be spoken for? How obsessed. To reject one's coin simply because it doesn't have that 'romantic gleam'."

She turns her back to the store front, her pride ready to move her feet, but her desperation forces them to stay. A torrent of frustration builds, soon to be met with an exhale, venting all her pent up thoughts.

She must get in. A store truly that big must have hints on how to reveal her true self, or perhaps how to revert her form. This possibility absolutely cannot be passed up.

So now she turns to the crowd, and to the first free person she spots, one donning fiery red hair, she approaches, "Pardon me. May I please have a moment of your time?"

Now that he is in front of her she truly realizes what a character she has picked out. Looming over her, his stare is met with her unwavering gaze.

I really did choose quite the character.

"Young man, I require your aid. Could you please pretend to be my lover?"

When Elise offers kind words, Hugh hands some back. "Of course! Good luck with the contest!" He gives them both a wave, and once they've headed off, he lowers his hand.

...he's not actually upset about losing. Maybe if it was with someone else, and depending on the circumstances, Hugh might be petty about the loss. But for this particular match?

He looks to Nyx, trying to discern what enotion might be crossing her mind. Was she upset? Sad? Did she wish she had swapped him with one of the girls, so she wouldn't have had to deal with his clumsiness?

Whatever the case might be, Hugh gets the impression that she's not the type who'd want to wallow in their loss for long. So instead, he thinks back to the dance itself.

"Where did you learn this dance from?" He asks, finding a place to rest his legs. "I've seen all sorts of dances during my travels, but that one's new for me."

She stands silent for a moment longer, taking in the applause and smiling faces of their former opponents, before following her partner backstage, finding a chair herself.

For once, I am thankful for this curse. If I truly had old bones, I don't think I could ever rise from this chair.

Once her body settles, she musters up the energy to give Hugh a response, "As I told you, I am well read. I grasped the essence of what dance is meant to embody but..." it confused her too. Nyx never practiced dance despite seeing it copious times in romance novels.

Yet, when it came to it, her mind emptied and her body moved itself, puppeted by the music. "Let us chalk that one up to improv."

Her eyes fall upon her partner, attempting to gauge his disappointment in the performance. "I wanted no part in this performance, but I still feel the need to apologize. Send me your residence and I will ensure you are compensating for your ruined shoes."

She stood in the manor's back garden. The shorn grass and fresh-fallen leaves granted her feet a soft surface to stand on, which was good, for she had been doing just that for a good two hours now. Watching, waiting, perhaps even hoping for the arrival of shadow.

For she was convinced it was exactly that: shadow, Fenris' influence. The rumors described the exact movements of someone who succumbed to the darkness. A heinous act committed in secret, a loss of self and memory, followed by a distinct lack of answers.

She could not stand for it.

Yuni knew that a different Goddess held sway over this land, but that did not mean that the forces of light and dark were missing. In fact, working with the Alliance nobles, Yuni could see clearly the marks of good and evil. It was not impossible for someone from Fodlan to fall prey to shadow, just as it was not impossible for a disciple of Naga to fall into shadow.

And that was an idea that kept floating below the surface of her mind, always there yet never quite breaching the waves: that perhaps she was the sleepwalker they all feared, and she just did not know it. She had to consider this. In situations like this, it was difficult to trust even oneself.

Bushes rustled. Yuni perked up. The crescent moon that hung above her provided little light, but she could sense that the approaching presence belonged to a person—a person who was in active pursuit.

Yuni took a decisive step forward. "I can see you," she called out, "there's no use hiding."

Another successful night passes. The books are sorted, the chairs are straightened, and finally, click, the library is locked. Nyx swiftly pockets the key before raising her arms above her head, a soft crack echoes off the walls.

Once the war against the Hoshidans ended, the troops dispersed, leaving Nyx alone once more.

Nothing new.

Yet the years spent in various villages, traveling, giving aid to those in need, were all well and good. All satisfying work and still, something wasn't quite complete. There was a void in her rare smiles, a missing pillar that couldn't truly lift the corner of her lips.

And perhaps, maybe that missing piece is among these halls,

"I can see you. There is no use in hiding."

And perhaps not.

The shock of seeing another awake at this hour was just enough to pause her steps. Nyx's eyes casually scan around to see if there was anyone else this small child could be referring to. Seeing no one, she turns back to the small bundle of light and slowly approaches.

"Since you are new and young, this is your chance to prove yourself."

Mindless chatter from even more mindless superiors. Nothing would be more enjoyable than to shut oneself away in the library, accompanied solely by the wind and one's own breath.

Yet, fate is cruel and the whims of upper management crueler.

Nyx steps ever closer to the site of the mission, clueless of the aid that is expected of her. All she was informed of was the location and the employer. That is it.

Nearing the edge of the forest, where the leaf filtered light of the forest ceases, stands a man with a similar mission slip to Nyx's own. Yet, beyond him the sky darkens, lit with horridly familiar black-shifted red. The air began to suck the moisture from her own mouth.

The image of a burning battlefield once more fills her gaze, yet this one is void of the shouts of dying men and the clashing of steel. All that remains is voiceless cackling of sundered wood and bone.

Now beside the man on the forest edge, she speaks, eyes remained on the spectacle, "Surely the term ‘hazing’ wasn't meant to be taken literally."

Her partner was a blonde student she recognised from around the Academy, but wasn't someone she'd spoken to at length. She gave her a bright smile of encouragement.

"We've got this. Let's go!"

They were up first, and it fell to Hilda to start them off.

She didn't really know what she was expected to do, so she just gave a little strut in time with the music, spun around, and blew a kiss to the judges.

Style: 10 | Choreography: 2 | Technique: 1 Total: 13

She pointed to Elise to cue her up.

Oh well. Nothing to be done about it for tonight, anyway — there’s always next year, and bonus practice is always a good thing! Even if it took her dance partner out last minute! She doesn’t know her new partner all too well (she thinks she vaguely remembers seeing her in another group during the whole monastery disaster? They never really spoke, though) but she does know she looks super pretty and fancy, so she’s gotta know what she’s doing, right?

…Huh. Not the kinda opener she expected, but you know what, she likes it! It might not be traditional, but it’s definitely got the style she’d expect from someone like her. And she’s got more than enough tradition practice down for the both of them!

“Great job! Now follow me,” It’s a tad bit of an awkward transition as Elise pulls Hilda along with a hushed whisper, but she thankfully manages to pull the both of them along without too much stumbling. There’s not enough time left in their section for the whole dance, but there is just enough time for… 

Style: 10 | Choreography: 7 | Technique: 8 Total: 25

“Spin left!” The Nohrian princess gives her pink partner a gentle shove to the left as she pivots right in a practiced twirl — right into the part of the dance floor she’d scouted beforehand as the spot with the best lighting to catch upon her dresses sequins as she curtsies. A perfectly executed ‘big finish’, if she does say so herself.

She only hopes the familiar face in the crowd she waves to with both hands on the tips of her tippy toes agrees with the sentiment.

The lights dim, notes of elegance and rhythm fill the air. She grabs Hugh by his hand, pulling him along onto the stage. She didn't want to be here, but she wasn't going to let her aversion taint this man's night.

Her gaze trails upwards from his chest to meet his eyes, assessing him,"Calm your nerves. Though I haven't practiced in many years, I am very well read on the subject of dance." Romance books yes, but literature none the less.

Style: 10 | Choreography: 3 | Technique: 2 Total: 15

The music is that of a well known tale, one depicting tragedy and despair; a doomed duet. Embodying the story, Nyx pushes off from her partner, isolating the two. Though her movements are elementary and stale, the subtle emotion in which she sways, hands reaching out towards the crowd, stirs something within the audience.

All the time spent alone. The years on the search, the dark nights, the cloaked market visits, the lone steps on the road, all of it floods her mind. The gaze of the crowd discarded far from her mind as her past weighs on her once more.

Yet,

in her labored breath exhales a small hope. A quiet one. One that, in the rising of the music, leads her back to her fellow contestant. The dance continues with the two closely in step with each other.

At least, that is how it was supposed to go if it were not for Nyx constantly tripping on Hugh's shoes, taking her out of own mind and back onto the dance floor.

"In the future, you should consider shrinking. It would make this a lot easier on your partner."