& with song

  The few times his drifts close to lucidity, the pain and fear are all that he can truly process. Surroundings are blurry and unfamiliar. He struggles to apologize, the last moments of his life flashing in his mind on a loop since it happened. Each time, he falls back into a cold blackness. A void. No dreams or thoughts. Like he didn’t exist at all. The brief moments of wakefulness are all he has. And it feels like a dream. Someone may have asked his name. Someone may have tried to get any information. But all that falls from his lips are disjointed pleadings and apologies. The times his eyes managed to take in any surroundings, it was a slightly different unfamiliar place. Sometimes bright. Sometimes dimly lit. Sometimes dark. Until it all blurred together. 

  What finally seems to revive him is the sound of distant thunder. A rumbling far away. Next was a smell. The air before it rains. Though only a vague scent. Lilac eyes slowly open, though he could only see through one. He slowly raises his right hand before a terrible pain stops him. His hand hurts. So instead he raises his left. Also sore and raw, bruised, but functional. He softly places trembling fingers upon his eye. It stings, but more notable is the soft feeling of fabric. A bandage is covering his eye. Next to slowly moves his aching right hand to look at it. It’s swollen and covered in bandages too. He tries to sit up, but the pain stops him. A tiny whimper leaving him. Everything hurts… But why? And where was he? A wooden building like this…. He wasn’t familiar with it. 

  It’s only then that the memory returns. All of it. The whole awful night. Tears start to sting his eyes. How is he alive? Shouldn’t he be dead? He needed to… What? He’s all alone, isn’t he? How does he know he’s even alive. Maybe this is just some strange afterlife. It isn’t until he hears someone enter the room that reality really starts to set in. His ears twitch and he tries to get his good eye to rest upon whoever is with him. 

  Oh…. It’s a man… One much bigger than he is, at that. Probably mad at him for sleeping too long. His heart is pounding. He could handle dying but… he just hoped this man isn’t going to do anything else to him… Anything like Xulu would. 

  “Ah…” He tries to speak, but his voice won’t cooperate. Maybe because it’s been a few days since he’s said much. Or maybe because he’s trying to stop himself from crying. “Sorry…. I’m….” He tries to sit up again but fails. The pain, yet again, sending him back down. 

PSA / UPDATE:

I’m sure you all have noticed a lack of activity here. I am going to take some time to elaborate on that. And also talk about possible changes. Basically, I am NOT happy with this muse or blog right now. Zerah went from being one of my favorite muses and original characters in general to being one that just makes me frustrated and sad.

Basically, he was originally a Warrior of Light OC that I changed to be a Scion OC. This was for multiple reasons. Before I was rping on tumblr in this fandom, I was rping him on discord in a small thing that did not allow your character to be the WoL. After I decided to try him on tumblr, I already had a (at the time multimuse) blog for Violette and Roi. I didn’t know how the xiv fandom would feel about another WoL OC from me and I also assumed I would get more interaction with a Scion OC since my WoL blog at the time got no attention.

Originally, Zerah got to Gridania after recovering from his injuries and stuff from his tribe. He had to sort of relearn archery after being hurt and healing for so long. And he slowly went through the ARR story. Nothing in his backstory was changed when I changed him to a Scion. But some things did. Namely his personality. While Zerah IS the same as he is later, I feel like in an attempt to not force anything on scion/WoL partners, I sorta ruined his character. Once he joins the Scions, all his character growth starts. I am CONSTANTLY stuck with no frame of reference for how he would grow because I cannot assume anyone would like him. Nor can I assume he went to the first or even Doma. The result is his character becoming stagnant. He literally cannot grow on his own and I hate it. I don’t have this issue with say, Violette, because I KNOW how she grows as a person thanks to her WoL verse, And I can base her Scion verse on this path as well. I have nothing like that on Zerah. And aside from that, he cannot interact with ANY ARR or HW major characters. Nor can he interact with a lot of others since he isn’t a main character or even assumed to be anything aside from some dude with the echo.

Once I decided Zerah was never gonna be the WoL, I gave up on him. I started skipping ALL the cutscenes in the game bc they weren’t canon for him. Which resulted in me not only not having ANY icons from mid-hw on, but also just??? Not getting invested in him as a whole. So his character got more and more flat. And I feel like he’s just a ‘uwu feel sowwy for me’ character at this point. Who was once a great character with potential but is now just a boring character with a backstory that can’t do shit.

It frustrates me to no end because I LOVE Zerah but he has been ruined? And the fact that he’s on tumblr like this makes me feel like I can NEVER go back and make him a WoL with a Scion verse because people KNOW him as a Scion oc. And tbh it just makes me angry because I know he is a good character but I have failed so utterly with the stupid changes I made because I was afraid of how people would be with him. And then stupid pointless drama happened with him anyway, so yeah. Should have just went with the original idea.

in the landscape of hours, days, weeks, moments of respite felt akin to a shuddering inhale; almost far-fetched in its very nature. quiet hours whittled away like gold dust. when the world threatens to tip itself out of focus, missing the all-too familiar spike of focused adrenaline. it’s in those mellowed hours of a morning, clustered in the fringes of gyr abania, that thyra spots a comrade a fair way from the rest of the stirring settlement. a whisper of an old rank, old sea-washed title conducts her to gather two mugs of fresh-brewed coffee, steam vapours rising to nothingness in the arid air. 

“ morning zerah. ” it’s a searching look as she takes a seat. a little withdrawn — behind old and new titles alike, behind the vestige of someone who does not quite know the other yet. and has yet to throw in their opinion. the miqo’te — young, not frighteningly so really, considering their companions —has kept himself to himself. a outlier on the horizon of her notice. the push of a mug across the wood-hewn table is purposeful. an offering for conversation. “ how are you holding up ? ”

@salvajecho​ | plotted starter

 He hadn’t gotten used to the dry air. Thanalan was always difficult for him. The dry heat and lack of wildlife was unsettling. He wondered how similar Ala Mhigo would be. The air almost feels the same. He had been off on his own, scribbling at a piece of parchment. Instead of words, only symbols familiar to those learned in music painted the page. Zerah has picked up very few things in the written word. His name and directions, namely. But music, he was fluent in. Though he could not write words for his melodies, he could do part of it. Zerah could recite songs he had heard, words and all, with little effort. But his own words could only be conveyed through the music itself. His inspiration had been that massacre at the wall. The worst thing he may have ever seen, and hopefully, ever would. He didn’t use his lute here, fearing it would upset the soldiers. But it would be helpful if he could HEAR what he was working on. 

 So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear her approach. He didn’t hear anything until she says his name. His ears fall against his head, he flinches, and a quiet yelp leaves him. He drops his pen and quickly begins to move his paper to the side. In case this is important. 

 “S-s-sorry ma’am...! I was... Um... L-lost in... what I was working on and I...” He realizes then that she was simply greeting him. Lilac eyes drift to the cup. Is it tea? He tilts his head slightly, wondering why she would go through the trouble. 

 “I’m... Okay. H-how about you? K-keeping busy, it looked like. Um... May I ask... Have I done something wrong? S-surely there are better things you could be doing... Better people you could be speaking with...?” Why does he feel like he’s being chased by a rabid animal? So what if she’s a famous adventurer and someone with absolute authority over him? Oh gods... What if he is offending her right now? Would she hurt him? Kick him out? “N-not that I... Gods... I am so sorry. You startled me and I just...” He takes a breath, trying to convince his mind to stop imagining terrible situations that could come from this. 

it has been a long day since the attack to the reach, the roegadyn can feel it the way her back crack when she stands straight after helping krile with y’shtola and the wounded. everything has been so traumatic, she can’t even fathom how the people feel to lose those close to them, companions. she could but she didn’t feel it was the same as what happened yesterday. 

drying some tears with the back of her hand while eos used the pocket of her jacket to sleep -she deserves it for helping krile and fedarlona in healing the less critical-, fedarlona noticed a familiar body close to the water, making her sigh. 

“you did what you could…” the scholar wasn’t good with her words, looking at the floor, feeling guilty in not knowing what to say to cheer him up when the reach was in a gloomy silence.

krile basically forced her to take a breather, after all, she did fight the viceroy and prince of garlemald. an intimidating monster, she never expected to come out without severe wounds but what he hurt the most was all these innocent men and women who just wanted their home back and to live in peace. her skills weren’t match against his might, in fact, she felt kinda useless, being a healer she barely knew how to fight even if she has been on this for long.

“we’re going to send the wounded to castrum oriens… i… i came here to ask if you’re free to help us…”

 He had thought joining the Scions would be a good chance for him. To make up for what he was. To do something good for once. And yet, all he did was more of the same. Watching people get hurt. Useless. Useless. Useless. Every time he saw someone injured or dying or even dead... The single thought in his head was that it should have been him. He shouldn’t have been born, according to Xulu. So... Why did he get to live when he offered little to the world? It was like the gods themselves were tormenting him or had forgotten about him. He should exist so why did he keep surviving? It’s because he’s a coward, isn’t it? 

 Ferdarlona looked exhausted. Worse than him after her fight with that zenos guy. He should have helped her, but he had been preoccupied trying to protect a few wounded from soldiers. He managed to avoid being hurt. Hiding in the shadows and striking without being seen, just like he was trained to do as a hunter. Still, he didn’t like it... Even if they were bad or something, hurting people was...

 “Y-yeah. I can help... Anything you need.” His words fall out a little too quickly. Uncertain and tired, but still eager to do his part. He slowly closes the distance between them, stopping before he got too close. He closes his eyes and takes a small breath. Gathering any courage he still has lingering around, he looks at the woman before him. 

 NEVER SING A SAD SONG, that was how Limsa preferred it. They only wished to continuously indulge themselves in merry, she speculated; who wouldn’t? In a city nestled by waters && those of roaring spirits, they did not wish to have their moods dampened by a minstrel’s tongue. Honey words that dripped from her lips, the way her head would bob && move with each strum, even over the laughter && calloused hands that continued to clap her voice could be heard. Bards, they were meant to inspire && continuously weave dreams from tales of yore, stories of greater men or valiant heroes, nothing set her heart a flutter but to see the joy across each face that was enchanted by her voice alone. As her song came to an end, she set the lute down upon her lap allowing a bit of rest as she then perked.

  “Thank you, it is a minstrel’s duty after all to stir the hearts of men” the wide smile she wore, any larger it would cause her cheeks to tire. She gestures for him to come sit, share in a drink && converse, come morning she will have faded away from the seaport onto another citystate - wherever the trail shall lead her. “Don’t fret, it’s nice to speak with those who enjoy the arts. Do you have a favorite ballad? So many bards hold different songs, I admit Eorzian tales are still that of a mystery to me” she laughs, robust && full of life but shy to admit the way of this land are still foreign. 

        “Still, they are wonderful to listen to! We can learn so much from mere music alone”

 Despite his mother’s skill with music and her love for song, most had found his skills useless within the tribe. Music was not going to get them food or shelter. It did nothing for them. Still, he knew it brought him peace. The lullabies his mother would sing for him when he was young. How she spoke of his father’s voice and songs. It was the only connection he had to them. It was the only thing that calmed him and kept him sane. Even now, this woman’s music did the same. Calmed his nerves in the crowded city. For a few moments, only the music filled his mind and the fear vanished. 

 “This city seems so loud... It was nice to hear something pretty over the noise.” He says with a small smile. He doesn’t look directly at her, however. He didn’t want to offend, after all. “I.. I don’t... I’m only incredibly familiar with the songs my parents used to sing. My mother... often recited them to me.” Maybe his father would have had he not abandoned him. “I’m not as well traveled as you, I am certain. Are you not from Eorzea...?” He does sit, albeit, hesitantly.