#echobled.

          ‘ i... i’m sorry, i’m so— i didn’t.. i didn’t mean to— i just— ’     i just wanted to become stronger faster was what ryne was struggling to get out of her throat, but all she managed to utter was some incoherent mumbling of panic-filled apologies. she’d done it again, failing and falling short of everyone’s expectation as the oracle of light, despite her desperate efforts at preventing it; it happened again and kept latching onto her like a curse: this aggravating helplessness that rendered her powerless in the face of danger, that rendered her a damsel in distress in need of a knight in shining armour. she hated feeling like this. 

          so ryne took it upon herself to become better. to get stronger. to control her power with more efficiency, more accuracy, more reliability for she understood just so how life-changing their cause was, and everyone was counting on them, on her to achieve the nearly impossible to save what was of left of this dying star, and she was painfully aware of the reality that there was no place for the weak, the useless here— it shamed her to have remained a heavy burden thus long. she wanted to at least contribute something— anything— even if it was some meager things such as slaying some lesser sin eaters...

          apparently, she couldn’t even do that without endangering herself or getting herself cornered, because once again, she failed. and once again, the crystal exarch had to protect her at the cost of his own safety. the sin eaters though were far less formidable than those the warrior of light faced, were threatening in number. she could easily take down one or two of them at a time, but a horde of sin eaters was a different story; nothing could have prepared her for this sudden swarm assault— squeezing her eyes shut, she was mentally steeling herself to embrace what was to come... before the crystal exarch arrived and received these wounds that were rightfully hers. 

          ryne wanted to cry. 

           ​‘ oh! ’     a small gasp. 

          g’raha’s ears flicked upward immediately in embarrassment once the sudden realisation of their intimate position settled in and hit him like a truck, making him suck in a huge breath— twelve, he was standing so close to wyatt, so close that their breath seemed to mingle as one, and their face an inch apart. he didn’t mean to... he didn’t mean to do this... but...

          eyes unconsciously trailed to wyatt’s lips as daring visions started to flood his head, just waves of improper images... of wyatt— his heart jumped at that. he shouldn’t even entertain the idea, especially not now, not wyatt, but... despite the profound knowledge that his body possessed, he can’t think of anything, unable to even conjure up a single coherent thought to defend himself even though the more... rational side of him desperately trying to do so— trying being the keyword, unfortunately, because all g’raha could manage at this very moment was... clamping his mouth shut as if, in fact, he was a complete idiot.  

          stares weren’t foreign to yugiri mistwalker; in fact, she had become accustomed to them— all kinds of stares: from the unfriendly ones to the more favourable pleasant ones, from the frightful ones to the reverent ones, she suffered them wherever and whenever she appeared as if she wasn’t a person of her own but a mere exotic creature to be dissected apart, scrutinised even for breathing. it used to bother her so much that she, in desperation, despite lord hien’s attempt to reassure her there was no such thing, resorted to finding safety in the comfort of garments covering every bit of skin, and concealing any hints of flawed oddity that might attract unwanted attention; it was cowardly, she knew, but at that time, what could she probably have done to change the situation? today was a different story though. things had changed drastically, and so did yugiri mistwalker. 

           no longer coweing beneath the false sense of security, yugiri was now proudly embracing her heritage as a raen aura of sui-no-sato descendent, and of doman cultures in the far-away land of eorzea. although much more work needed to be done before the alienation completely went away, she was comfortable enough to walk the crowded streets of ul’dah bare faced. still clad in armour and fully armed of course lest unfortunate events befell her (she surely hoped her luck wasn’t that... rotten), but this was definitely a change, a development, a step forward to reach for promising prospects. however, it didn’t mean she was comfortable with stares that lingered longer than neccessary no matter what the intentions were, be it good or ill or whatever in between— she had had enough of that to last a lifetime. if her days with the scions had taught her anything, it was the bravery to speak for one’s self, to not be afraid and stand one’s ground.