SentryofAttention

Shael looked at the map that Luri had drawn for Ghoa, committing it to memory. If all went according to plan, Ghoa should be able to draw the guards to the east side, if she met Estrid on the balcony as they did before. The library, on the other hand, was on the opposite of the manse, near the theater. That would be where the Doctor would emerge from, along with Nabi if they were lucky. 

If they weren’t lucky, she would have to go in and retrieve the Xaela herself.

“A concealed door in the middle of one of the bookshelves.” The handmaiden hadn’t observed the mechanism herself, only that it opened a way down into a labyrinth of tunnels that eventually led to an underground laboratory. Probably under the theater somewhere, maybe even linked with the sewers. It would be convenient to do away with any waste material or bodies. Had they had enough time, exploration of the sewage tunnels may have revealed another way in or out.

But they had little time. Shael wasn’t about to let Nabi remain in that lab for another sun.

“About those new arrivals,” Brick’s words returned to her as she rubbed her brows. “Two of them will be familiar to you. The duskwight and the roegadyn from that lighthouse. Zurvine and Blauwaht, I believe.”

Shael wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or not. Saving Saltborn’s crew from the corrupted undead beneath the lighthouse had been a boon initially, with Fuller repaying the favor by giving her the address to the Doctor’s. But now that the other two were here to strengthen the security, could she trust them? 

Of course not. The idea was dismissed as soon as it came. She trusted no one outside of her own crew. To mistakenly let her guard down around those she had just met, whether they were grateful or not, could be deadly. And she knew better than that. 

She didn’t even know if she could believe this map either, since she knew nothing about this handmaiden. Listening in, she seemed demure and helpful enough, but why was she going through such lengths to help strangers, against the interests of the master of the house?

But it wasn’t like Shael had any choice. This map was the best lead they got to getting to Nabi, so she had to trust that it was legit. Ghoa was confident, at least, in Luri’s motivation for helping. It would have to do.

So then what was the plan? Shael had gone over various scenarios in her head, and none looked promising. The success hinged on so many different What Ifs, and one failure in the chain would endanger too many people that mattered to her.

Shael slid down against the wall, her gaze lowering to the Xaela in the room below her as Ghoa was starting to measure out the ingredients to put together the potion. The Mankhad didn’t have to say it out loud, but Shael spied it on the woman’s face; taking this potion was not without a huge risk. Ghoa was making herself the center of attention, heightening her powers to intimidate a ruthless man into a hostage exchange. It was possible that things could go very wrong for her.

Shael leaned her head back, a light thunk resounding against the wooden wall. Ghoa as a distraction on the inside. Brick with her turret to draw more guards on the outside. And she only had herself to try and get to Nabi. The odds were not in their favor.

“I'll leave it to you, then. Best to leave the making of a plan out of an impossible scenario to the woman who managed to explode a heavily guarded dais tucked under a mountain, no?" Was that false bravado or some kind of pep talk to try and bolster her confidence? Or was the Mankhad actually hopeful that this would all work out like the fighting pits? Sure, they had gone into a mountain full of hostiles, just the three of them, to save two within that were just as likely to get killed before getting out.

The odds weren’t so great then either. But they did all come out, didn’t they? Everyone was in on the crazy plan.

Everyone.

Shael continued to stare at the Mankhad, but her eyes widened behind her shades. The fighting pits, the Junghid, and the ruins... They had all come through, working together. Even the most impossible missions with the Resistance, when the team was synched together, they were able to pull off the impossible.

The odds were against her here, because Shael wasn’t playing all the pieces on the map. She wasn’t trusting everyone to do what they needed to. It was time that changed. For everyone’s sake.

Her hand rose to her ear, activating the pearl. 

Chanai shook her head, her raven locks falling in small wisps around her golden eyes. Chagur could see her struggling to hold back her amusement. “I will never get any sleep tonight. I think our daughter is hosting the next Naadam in there.” Then a knowing smile came over her, and she canted her head, giving her lover a coy smile. “Unless you think you can woo her to sleep?”

There was nothing Chagur would deny this woman, especially when she looked at him so. But this particular request had him promptly pushing off the rug, rolling over to his pack, where he grabbed a wrapped oblong instrument. He sat up and uncovered it carefully, the fabric falling away to reveal an elegant wooden carving of a horse’s head first, then the rest of Morin Khuur. He had packed it with such care, knowing that it would be needed in exact moments like these.

He could immediately see Chanai’s expression softening. She always loved the sounds of Morin Khuur. She pulled up a rolled blanket to serve as a pillow to lay upon, as Chagur sat cross legged in front of her, situating the string instrument. He twisted the end to tighten the bow hair, before testing out the strings themselves with a few gentle plucks.

Then resting the wooden neck against his shoulder, Chagur’s gaze bowed, as he put the bow to the string. His left hand moved knowingly over the pair of woven hairs, summoning each note, from low deep timbre to a gentle lighter pitch. It was a song that came to him in a dream, where he imagined singing to his child, under the warm golden sun and the bluest ocean skies. And since he felt helpless as a Junghid in being unable to provide for Chanai as their child living amongst the Kharlu, he wanted to gift their daughter the only way he knew how.

The Morin Khuur sang soulfully in his hands, the male and female strings together composed a harmony that filled the space around them. It reminded him of the rolling winds over the tall golden grass of the plainlands, and the chanting of shamans that greeted the arrival of dusk. The mood of the song shifted from night to day, then light to dark, carrying the distant neigh of the wild horses, the high echoing calls of the yol, and the chorus of crickets that filled a quiet night.

It was all the sounds that filled his suns, and since he couldn’t be with Chanai and Nabi as he wanted, he wanted to leave his child with his own vision of the world. So that his daughter would know, when she eventually heard all these sounds of life, that his thoughts and love for her were ever present in them.

When the last note faded into the night and Chagur raised his head, Chanai gazed upon him with such a look of affection that stole his breath. But she drew his attention back to her belly as she rubbed it lightly, an amazed look on her face.

“Nabi has gone to sleep,” she whispered, as if anything louder might disturb the peace within her womb. “She takes to your songs like a lullaby, resting so peacefully.” Chanai sighed, her voice full of awe. “And each time, it fills me with such a sense of tranquility.” After a pause, she added in a quieter whisper, “And hope.”

She shook her head, incredulous and yet amused. “Is this what all women experience when carrying a child? This sense of enlightenment?”

Chagur set the Morin Khuur aside, and slid upon the rug to come lay next to Chanai once more. He placed a light kiss upon her lips and nuzzled their scaled noses together. 

“I do not know of any others, but you and Nabi make me want for more. A new world. A better world. For us. A new life.”

Chanai regarded him quietly, and Chagur could see her expression starting to dim. He recognized the shadows of doubts and worry that were never far in her thoughts. They haunted her like a ghost. But before he could lose her to her darker thoughts of the future, he pulled her face closer to him, embracing her in another deeper kiss. 

For as long as he was able, Chagur swore to himself a silent oath, that he would protect the two people he loved most in this world. To Azim he swore to protect them from any darkness that would fall, and to Nhaama any harm that would threaten.

But since their escape from the fighting pits, when he now reached for her, his fingers closed in around hers. His steps often were still quicker than hers, especially towards the end of the sun, when he would meet her at her herbal stall in Rakuza District. It was so that they could walk together to the pier to catch the ferry back home.

Nabi could tell from his pace and his mindful ways of catching the boat on time, that he was not a man to dawdle away his bells. She wondered often if he had many regrets of missed opportunities in his past. She never asked, hoping someday, he would share those stories with her.

Disappointment was fleeting on his features the first time they missed their ride home, although there seemed to be no irritation towards her. Even if it was her fault—roaming about on their way from the stall to the pier, insisting on indulging in a dango or a cup of tea—he gave no looks nor words of blame. 

But the second time, then the third, his stride became slower than the last. And when inevitably they reached the docks and the barge was already sailing afar, he sighed and turned to her, soft edges to his eyes. 

It was because Nabi always had an idea of what to do until it was time for the next ferry. Whether it be to watch the dance of the fireflies in the Rakusu Gardens, or pick up delectable treats at Kogane Dori, or even peruse over the newest katanas at the stall of swords…

Each was a (secretly) delightful new excuse to let time drift by while they enjoyed each other’s company. 

Nabi knew that whether the time was spent at home or on the streets of Kugane, they were all precious. But those random moments that happened out of chance by missing the ferry, those that otherwise shouldn’t have happened, they felt stolen somehow, from the threads woven by fate, where anything was possible.

And while that idea was thrilling, even in those pockets of time where freedom and impulse reigned, all she wanted to do was laugh, and perhaps, maybe, catch him laughing too.

So as they looked out towards the ocean, the fiery sunset sky silhouetting the ferry that was growing smaller into the horizon, Nabi felt a gentle squeeze of his hand around hers. Anchor turned back to her expectantly.

But whenever Roen returned to Eorzea - much to the gratitude of her accountant - she always stopped by his office in Limsa Lominsa as a courtesy. He was never lacking for contracts and documents for her to sign, and never short of suggestions on dinner parties and lunches she should attend, to keep “relevant” amongst the wealthy and privileged that made up so-called “high society.” The latter was always refused, politely, and today would be no different.

“Not for good, but a bit longer this time, perhaps.” Roen nodded, hooking one arm on the oaken chair, reclining onto the quilted back. The tea he offered her remained untouched in front of her, on his desk. As usual, the man had stacks of papers and ledgers all around him, as if he was only happy juggling multiple things at once. “A few moons, I think.”

Reese raised both his eyebrows. “Oh! What is the occasion? Are you finally giving yourself some respite after traveling abroad for what… years now?” He was being facetious, of course; the man knew precisely how long she had been away for, probably down to the last bell.

“No special occasion,” Roen answered with a roll of her shoulders. “I just thought I should return home for a while. Perhaps even seek out a few friends that I have not spoken to in sometime.”

“Hm,” Reese hummed. Roen could see him wanting to pry her for more details, but somehow managed to restrain himself from doing so. They both had learned a little about each other over the years, and generally knew what to expect from one another. “Well! Your friends should be in for a pleasant surprise, yes? As far as you have been a client, I’ve not known you to take such time for yourself.” 

There was a deeper bow of her head, in acknowledging that simple fact. Indeed, she had not kept in touch with many - if not all - of the people she cared for. There were letters sent, of course, albeit infrequently, and while some have diligently written back, others…she had not heard from still.

It took her many years to finally mend old wounds, and in doing so, she had put some distance between herself and those that were dear to her. 

Perhaps it was time to close those rifts as well.

Reese regarded her thoughtful silence curiously, before adjusting the set of his glasses. “So then, should I expect you in La Noscea for a bit?” From his tone, he was eager to make some appointments on her behalf.

“I will be heading up to Ishgard first, to try and find someone,” It was a deft way to avoid yet again declining invitation to social events. “I’ll send word when I am back in La Noscea.” Her expression softened. “I would like to visit the orphanages, both here and Ul’dah.”

What looked like initial disappointment turned into a look of surprised anticipation. “Wonderful!” he chirped. “I will send word to the Albatross Orphanage. I am sure the head mistress would be happy to hear.” He tapped some parchments together on the desk, setting them neatly in front of him then clasped his hands together. “Then perhaps we can speak again about adding a few more stops to your itinerary?”

His persistence was at least admirable. Roen held up a hand but offered a small smile. “One thing at a time, Mister Templeton. Let me at least begin the process of finding my friend, then we will see what comes after that.”

Those first moments had been a blur, all adrenaline and desperation. He swung his blade without thinking, dodged to and from without thinking, and ended lives without thinking. Just how many he’d cut down, he couldn’t even hope to hazard a guess. Five? Fifteen? Fifty? It could’ve been a thousand for all he knew. He hadn’t the chance to even so much as get a good look at one’s face before the next was coming at him in the chaotic slalom of the front lines. 

But this was different.

Now, time seemed to slow to a crawl. This time, his opponent wasn’t faceless but a stark mirror of the emotions he felt coursing through himself. Anger. Desperation. Fear. And the longer the two men circled one another, each feeling out the other, the more uncomfortable staring into that mirror became. The more Arukh’s mind became clouded with thought and guilt, the more his reflexes began to slow.

He found himself wondering, there in the heat of battle, if this man was a slave to the Jhungid just as he was to the Kharlu. Was it his first experience with battle, as it was his? Did this fighter not want to have to kill him every bit as much as Arukh found himself not wanting to do the same in turn?

Perhaps they truly were just alike, save for the fact that the Jhungid fighter broke free of his circling and lunged first.

Slowed by thought and fatigue both, the sudden swing of the hand axe connected with Arukh's wrist, sending the sword he held flying out of his grasp. But he hadn’t the time to curse himself for the letting his opponent take the initiative nor rue what could very well have been his fatal, final mistake. Just as abruptly as it had upon the battle’s start, his mind kicked right back into instinct. 

Survive, survive, survive..

As the second hand axe rose high to deal the killing blow, Arukh’s offhand shot to the crude hunting dagger tucked into his waist. Rather than cower, he stepped into the other’s space, throwing him off – and allowing Arukh just enough of an opening to shove the blade upward under the man’s chin with a desperate roar.

Instantly, his opponent went slack, his weight falling full force against Arukh as the light left the wide eyes that stared up at him now. He didn’t know why he didn’t just step aside, but he found himself reaching up to catch the other instead of letting him fall unceremoniously into the blood-soaked mud and muck below.

Maybe it was an apology. Or maybe he was realizing now that with his sword gone and his dagger wedged deep in the dead man’s skull, he was assuredly soon to be joining him when the next opponent found him.

Yet no sooner did the grim acceptance of his soon-to-be fate come than did another bellowing call of the warhorn echo out over the roar of battle. Jhungid horns, signaling retreat. 

The fighting was over and the Kharlu had won.

Suddenly Arukh’s knees gave out from under him, but still he did not quite let go of his opponent. The body lowered to the ground with him and, shakily, the Mankhad placed him the rest of the way down into a more dignified final resting position.

If only their private war of attrition had lasted but seconds longer, they both could have walked away from this. Why did he have to swing first? Why couldn’t he have just waited just a moment longer? Anger and anguish rose side by side in Arukh’s chest. Why?! his mind seethed, even if deep down he knew it was illogical. Neither of them could have known that the fighting was about to end. In that moment, all they both knew was that it was kill or be killed, all in the name of a war that likely neither of them were vested in.

Collapsing backwards, a raw and ragged scream tore from between his gritted and bared teeth, half howl and half sob. Even though the Kharlu had won, this tasted not of victory to him but something far more bitter and poisonous. 

Because on its heels came the maddening realization that all his survival meant in the end was that he would be forced to come back again in another twelve short moons’ time to do it all again.

"Ya’ up tae somethin,” Shael answered as she fixed her with a rightfully doubtful look. “..but that be yer game."

"I'm just saying," the Mankhad answered innocently as she takes off the sunglasses perched atop her head, stuffing them into the waistband of her swim bottoms for security. "I was raised on the beaches and in the water. It's only fair, you know?"

"Ya sure showed that gurgling salt water that time.” Anchor’s retort saw her gaze narrow as she looked over in his direction.

“That was different,” she huffed defiantly. For one, they weren’t atop a wildly pitching ship tossed to and fro by storm-frenzied waves, but she didn’t press the point. It was doubtful neither he nor Shael would concede that point. Besides, she’d show them just how adept of a swimmer she was when she stood victorious upon that rock, looking down upon them in triumph.

As the others started forward towards the end of the dock where the starting line should have before, Ghoa primed herself to leap into action the moment the moment the word ‘Go!’ left Shael’s lips.

Off she was down the pier like a bolt of lightning, only to hit her first stumbling block early. Her sandal caught on an uneven board of the pier, snapping the thong and sending her pitching forward. Luckily, she was able to catch herself, but the mishap had certainly slowed her. But she would win. She had to win.

Pushing down the frantic burning of her lungs from the effort, Ghoa kept her eyes on the prize. Wait, what even was the prize? Maybe it was that thought that caused her focus to lapse as she reached the pier’s end. Or maybe it was the quick look back that told her she was in the lead as the others just reached wading depth in the shallows, filling her with overconfidence.

Whatever it was, it kept her from committing wholeheartedly to the graceful dive she had planned. Another misstep and the Mankhad found herself suddenly sliding without control across the slippery end of the dock and with a shocked squeal quickly drowned out by a splash, Ghoa bellyflopped into the sea. 

Well.. so much for winning.

Choking and sputtering as she surfaced, the bleary-eyed Xaela’s first instinct was to look around to see who had witnessed her embarrassment. Immediately, her eyes found those of a ferryman but a few fulm away, affixing her with a look that was equal parts concern and amusement with a healthy side of confusion atop it.

“You, er.. okay, miss..?” he managed as he leaned over the boat’s edge, offering a hand to pull her into the dinghy. Thank the gods he at least had the tact not to bust out laughing in her face, or else the Mankhad might have just lowered herself to the sea floor then and let the ocean take her right then.

“P-perfectly fine..” Ghoa managed with not a small dose of sarcasm as she paddled over and reached up to take the hand, using it to pull herself into the boat. Sort of. As if to only add further insult to injury, her foot slipped upon the edge and with another splash, back into the briny depths she went for a second helping of humble pie.

Finally, the Mankhad made it into the rowboat on her second attempt. By then, it was obvious that the ferryman was struggling not to laugh at what he had just witnessed, his cheeks as red from the effort as her entire front side was from the sting of meeting the water face-on. 

Yet he paddled on in merciful silence and Ghoa pulled her sunglasses from her waistband – half amazed that they hadn’t managed to go by the wayside much as he broken sandal – and slipped them onto her nose. As if that would hide her embarrassment once she disembarked..

“Don’t. Say. Anything,” she huffed as she reached the sandbar, still red-tinted and hair bedraggled. 

“The hells happened?” Anchor asked.

At least the others had been so consumed by competition that it would seem none had witnessed it. Only the ferryman and probably half of La Noscea besides once his shift was ended and he was able to recount the unfortunate encounter to much laughter later.

“Oh, um..” Nabi chimed in, tone suspiciously evasive. “Caught a bad wave, yes?”

Well, at least the only one amongst them who had witnessed the spectacular failure was Nabi, too sweet by half to acknowledge it. 

Before she could answer, another coughing and sputtering fit overtook her. As she straightened, her tone was sour. “I hate races,” she huffed unhelpfully. “This was a terrible idea.”

Yet for all their amusement at her expense as they crossed the beach in search of what she sorely hoped was a nearby bar, Ghoa had to admit there was a part of her – deep, deep down below the humiliation – that was thankful for a moment of shared levity. It was rare for the lot of them to steal moments like this together in peace rather than having to band together in the face of a common, dire foe.

But next time they had a moment of respite, Ghoa sure hoped that no one proposed anymore stupid races.

There should have been panic and dismay in remembering this place. This was where she lost her mother for the second time. But strangely, Nabi felt none of it; instead, there was a warmth that ran down her back, something fluttering airly, just like the petals. She felt safe. This was before the chamber of flowers had been overcome with monstrous overgrowths, before their beauty was swallowed by endless tangles of vines and dark ivy that sought to choke out all else.

It was a time when the flowers were singing freely. And the melody was so familiar to her. It felt like she had heard it all her life, and even in her past lives. A lullaby that soothed her when death came, and resonated along with her first cry as a newborn babe. The petals turned from gold to black then back again, following the cycle of the sun and moon, the light and the dark. Things were at peace.

Then Nabi felt a shudder run through her, as a warm dark droplet stained the golden bloom. The songs quieted in the face of pain filled cries and echoes of laughter that only knew cruelty. The blood that soaked the soil was warm at first, then thick and cold as it reached the roots. When the petals began to once more take on the night’s colors, the songs began to change. There was a low timbre of sadness, anger, and despair woven into the melody. It remembered the wrongs that were witnessed. 

And deep within the earth, there were stirrings. The tempering of the lullaby did not go unnoticed.

-

With a gasp, Nabi opened her eyes. It took a moment for her to focus in the darkness, for her senses to reacclimate to her surroundings. The constant whirl of magitek was slow to filter in, as were the views of her confinement. But what caught her attention was a small white object, a folded handkerchief in the shape of a boat. It was laid on the floor, where Gideon North would have been sleeping.

Nabi didn’t know whether it was the unexpected view of such an object or the fact that she hadn’t seen origami in ages, much less in fabric form, but it served to soothe her nerves despite the retainer’s unannounced absence. She sat up in her bed, and without a thought, looked over her shoulder to her back. She half expected the manifestation of her dream to still be present.

Of course, the metal weight around her ankle also then made itself known.

But today was the day when she and Mister North were going to beseech the Doctor to take it off. To allow her to use her aether in the presence of Estrid, to see how she could affect the lady of the house with conscious effort. All the effects thus far had been passive or incidental.

There was a quiver of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. Nabi knew she had to be careful. She couldn’t just explore her aether as she had Anchor’s; there was nothing to guide her in such an attempt. But she had to show some results to the Doctor so that he may be satisfied with more progress. And then, just maybe, he would allow her more freedom without the aether dampener, and she would have more opportunities at hand. Whether that would be to help Estrid or to escape, Nabi knew not. Not yet.

It brought Ghoa’s mind back to distant memories, of late nights much like this one spent holed up in the grand personal library of the Parikh estate. Given that her Hannish mentor’s life work had dealt with the human aetherochemical condition, it was little wonder that the lion’s share of tomes and papers within those shelves dealt with such subject matter.

For one such lesson in the basics of aetherology early on in her tutelage, Sarasvati had assigned to her a number of those works for her to study and report back upon. It was to one of those papers that her mind wandered to now, a sort of academic warning tale of the fragility of a person’s aetheric state. The notes of an alchemist who had been tasked with the treatment of a fool who thought by consuming the shards of a fire crystal, they would thereby be able to summon and channel powerful fire magicks.

Naturally, it hadn’t worked out well for the individual, no matter how hard the alchemist treating their self-inflicted condition had worked to reverse the effects. Such a sudden and stark destabilization of their aetheric balance had caused irreversible damage as their very being had rapidly unwound like a loose spool of thread. Not only had it manifested in horrific external mutations in the subject, but the autopsy performed after had revealed that even their internal organs had turned black as ash, as if burned by raging fire. A miserable and painful end it must have been, to be consumed so violently from the inside out. 

It was hardly a reassuring thought to allow to bounce around in her mind given that this was – albeit to a lesser and hopefully far more controlled degree – exactly what her potion made of ground lightning crystal sought to achieve. Thus was why she had to be so very sure of her calculations and her formulation. Every variable and value had to be exactingly accurate. Just a hair too much crystal in the mix and it stood to reason that she could very well end up as the subject of her own ill-fated academic paper meant to warn people away from exactly what it was that she was doing now.

Ghoa breathed out a shaking sigh as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Truthfully, there was no small part of her that wanted to just discard the idea entirely. It was too risky. It was too reckless. The margin of error was so punishingly small. 

But.. that had always been when she had done her finest work, no? From the time so many years ago when she had fled the Kharlu, to far more recently when she had stood with the others against the embodiment of suffering itself deep underground.. Nothing had ever caused Ghoa to rise higher to the occasion than having her back against the wall, forcing her to have the confidence in herself and in those around her to see her through those trials.

The corner of her lip twitched upwards into a soft, tired smirk. Mayhap she was mad for it, but Ghoa would not back down from her wild plan now. She was confident in herself, in her ability and her alchemical knowledge. She was confident in Nabi’s peculiar restorative abilities being able to pull her back from the knife’s edge if necessary. 

Perhaps most importantly, she had faith that if all were to go awry regardless, Shael and Anchor were still out there somewhere. That even if her own efforts did fail them, that pair – just as reckless as she at times – would have no qualms about cutting and shooting their way to their rescue if need be.