#farwyn

And what you hear is not silence / It's just the trees waiting to hear what next you'll hum / And what you see is not the dark / It's just the gods upturning ink pots 'cause they know what you'll become / And to those gods, I will speak bluntly / "We've an accord, if you ever touch or harm him / Please, rest assured that you might not fear a man / But to a woman, by the end, you'll kneel and plea / 'Cause I'm more than what my mum told me to be"

I have no clue where to go with this train of thought. It just popped into my head while listening to it.

He was a calm and stoic man.

Farwyn bent down to adjust Elysia's coat, pausing just outside of the old hag's place. Her tail swished eagerly behind her, although a pout was on her face for being left at the woman's house again. It was good for her though- learning, even if the woman was a monster to talk to and would eat him alive if he was ever late.

“He's here so often.”

“I heard a rumor they work together. That poor child!”

“She should have her mother.”

It wasn't that uncommon for him to hear mutterings from people, although it grated on him early in the morning as the pair of Midlander women gossiped past them. Elysia furrowed her brow, looking like she might say something but he placed a heavy hand on her head and ruffled her hair. Even if he also wanted to turn around and give them an earful.

Yet he was a calm and stoic man.

“I don't think that'll work.”

“It will, I promise. I've done it many times.”  Farwyn was quoting a man for a potential project to restore the stone fence around the yard. He also wanted his windows redone, which the Highlander was willing to do even if it wasn't his exact specialty.

“No, no... I think you should bring the fence in closer near the water.”

“I could do that, but you'll be cutting off the view a bit and losing some space. You'll want that space eventually. Trust me, it'll look best when it's all done if yo-”

“No, no that's wrong. I want it done like so...”  The Lalafell walked away from Farwyn to show him precisely, with his hands and motions, where he thought the fence should go. Ultimately he was the customer and Stonewolfe knew this, but his expression went from a muted interest to a flat, dead expression. Of course how could he know what would work best- this was only his profession and something he did for a living.

“See? That will work far better. I have a keen eye for these things, you know. I might be a tailor, but I dabble into all sorts of things as a hobby. I could probably build the wall myself! But...”

Farwyn gritted his teeth.

He was a calm and stoic man.

Stonewolfe glanced over the man's wares, appreciating the craftsmanship of the leather. It was a cheaper hide, but it'd been sewn and reinforced expertly. The leather worker owned the stall and often visited Limsa, much to Farwyn's appreciation. It was hard to find good gloves and boots that lasted awhile but didn't destroy his gil pouch in the process.

“What is wrong with this place? I can't find a single item worth purchasing.”  

“The private shops are far better than this swill. I mean, look at this color! Who would wear this?”

A pair of Elezen dressed in light finery were speaking loudly with little care who overheard them. Farwyn looked askance at them and wrinkled his nose, praying to the Twelve that they'd simply dawdle their way past. No such luck though. One of the men drifted over and picked up a leather pack between his finger and thumb, as if it were some diseased rage he'd lifted from the shelf.

“Are you seeing this? There isn't even any design!”

“I suppose it's for a peasant's purse.”  The other commented, flashing a look towards Farwyn with a hint of mirth.  Stonewolfe breathed out slowly through his nose and focused on the boots he held, glad that at least the leather worker was too busy talking to someone else to pay the obnoxious pair any heed.

“It's just so dirty ...”

He was calm. He was stoic.

Farwyn stood near one of the tables loaded with baked goods with a basket in hand. He finally had reached the respite that was the end of the day. His journey home often had him stopping at Baxter's Bakery, a nice little shop that an energetic Au Ra had shown him in the past. It wasn't uncommon to see her there as well, such as today.   The little wisp of a lady was practically bouncing up and down as she talked to Baxter, who simply smiled and slid a plate of cookies in her direction.

At this time of day, there usually weren't too many patrons and the bakery was nearly empty save for the three of them. That's how Farwyn preferred it. He would come and take some bread home along with an occasional sweet or sandwich. Baxter had hired him a few times and the man was easy going enough- not one to ask too many questions but still friendly and amicable. Yesui, good Gods, had enough energy to power Limsa's lights. She was a kind hearted soul though and even in whatever hardships she endured, Farwyn couldn't help but respect her positive nature. He didn't often talk much to her, because he didn't like talking to most people but he enjoyed listening and would offer a comment here or there.

Today though he was happy to let the pair talk while he took his things, said a hello and then left. That's how it was supposed to go, anyway.

The door opened widely, a bell jingling to announce someone's entrance. Farwyn didn't look up as he glanced over some freshly made cupcakes, wondering if he could get them home and hide them from Elysia for a gift tomorrow.

“Wow is this the bakery that was destroyed?”

“I heard it blew up.”

“I guess you can kind of tell.”  

It was a Miqo'te woman and a large Xaela man who had entered, dressed as if they'd spent a day at the beach. The woman grinned and batted her eyes towards Baxter, who shifted his footing and looked a little like he wasn't exactly sure how to take those words. He turned and busied himself back over by the oven.  

“Oh hello! Welcome to the best bakery EVER! You sho-”

“It's her.”  The man whispered a bit too loudly and the pair laughed at Yesui. The tiny Au Ra blinked, looking a tad confused as the woman spoke up.

“Don't mind us, we've just heard people talking about you. You visit this bakery often, right?”

“Careful. I think I saw her around port with those pirates. Probably one of their... you know...”

“Friends? Yes!” Yesui's expression remained as cheerful as ever, but Farwyn couldn't help but think he saw a hint of understanding there. “I have a lot of friends! Although if you're here, you should really buy something. Baxter makes the most DELICIOUS sandwiches a-”

“Do you think she's bad luck? I mean this place... pirates...”

They kept talking as if Yesui wasn't even there. Baxter had a disgusted look on his face as he grabbed a towel to wipe his hands and looked about ready to tell the people to leave. He probably would have gotten a word out, if the Miqo'te woman hadn't reached out to poke Yesui in the forehead in a demeaning fashion.

Farwyn was a calm and sto-

A switch flipped and the Highlander felt all of the rage he kept coiled inside of his gut suddenly flare to life. This was supposed to be a quiet place of respite after a day of dealing with idiotic and insufferable morons!

“SHUT UP!”  He roared, large hands gripping the underside of the cupcake table and flipping it over in the same motion. (In hindsight, Farwyn would regret such a motion but anger had a wonderful way of being irrational.) Colorful cupcakes flew everywhere as the table smacked into the larger Au Ra. The woman shrieked and both of them looked over to see a heavy breathing, pissed off Highlander glowering at them with the ugly scar across his face.

Perhaps wisely choosing their battles or simply too startled to do much else, the pair fled out the door. A cupcake slowly splotched down onto the floor a silent moment after, having been stuck on the ceiling. Baxter blinked as he saw another cupcake had managed to land in a boiling pot on the stove. Frosting painted the bakery in a few places and Farwyn took a moment to realize what he'd done. He visibly swallowed, clearing his throat to apologize and offer to clean up and pay when Yesui threw her hands up in the air.

“That was so funny!”  She beamed, a cupcake perfectly balanced on her head somehow. She stuck out her lip though and waggled a finger at Farwyn, “You shouldn't throw tables though. That's dangerous.”

Farwyn inwardly groaned and drew in a deep breath.

So much for being a calm and stoic man.

-------------- FFXIV Writing Challenge

“I'm getting too old.”  Farwyn let out a graveled sigh as he slipped the pack from his shoulders and let it thunk to the ground. He removed his thick leather gloves, tossing them over the top of the pack as he then bent over and tightened his boots. It was still early morning with the sound of bird calls flitting back and forth, a few crickets chirping and a cooler breeze on the air.  In some regards it was a beautiful crisp morning, but he just smelled dirt and copper. The whole place reeked and made his back ache and his face itch. Yet this was a special day.  No, special wasn't the right word for it. Unique. It was a unique day.

His calloused hands unclasped his worn blue cloak from his shoulder and he was about to toss it before he decided to gently place it over his gloves. It was pleasant out now, but he knew the sun would take little time in baking the landscape. He tested his belt, making sure the loops that held his waterskin and satchel were secure. Then green eyes flickered upwards, marking his path that had subtly changed over the year before he finally stepped forward and began his climb.

“How did it go?” The room smelled of bread and honey. She had greeted him at the door, an impish smile upon her face as she leaned up to kiss the stubble on his chin. He had dirt on his boots. Blood on his arm. Her gray eyes noticed and began searching, before in relief she tugged him inside. “Not as well as last time.” “Should we be worried?” “Not sure. I can't stay long.” “Dinner?”   He couldn't help but smirk at her and despite his disheveled state, hands seized her waist and brought her against his chest.  “Always.”

It wasn't an easy climb, but the Ala Mhigan grew up in the roughly hewn landscape all his life. His eyes knew how to read the rocks and his hands knew how to hold on, just as how his feet had learned to trust his body. The land had always been unforgiving, but it wasn't merciless and Farwyn had a sense that if one came to respect what it offered, it wasn't always so cruel. It was important to be patient. Methodical. A tactic he was used to doing.

“We need to go.”  Her hand sought his, fingers intertwining as she gave it a squeeze. He was leaning against the tree, grimacing a little as he caught his breath. “I can't just leave. They need me.” He grimaced, but he could see the flicker of disbelief and pain upon her face. “I need you. They'll need you.” Her hands wandered over her form and he chewed on the inside of his cheek before he finally kicked off of the tree and wrapped her into him. “Please, let's just go.” “Can you give me a little longer? If I leave now...” “I know, I know... they're just boys.”   She whispered, but he could feel her shoulders tremble.

He reached up for a hold and slowly pulled himself up, utilizing the other to keep him steady. His foot lifted, feeling around for the place he just marked and then tested it with his weight. The rock held for a pause and then suddenly gave way, causing his whole body to shift. His corded muscles flexed and he clenched his jaw, keeping himself still for a moment while he caught his breath. Then he slowly marked another spot.

“Damn your sense of duty!” She swore at him. He remembered the tears glistening in those fierce eyes. What had happened next?   

Apologies. The sound of broken glass and then running. It was dark and neither of them could see well with the cloudy sky. Others had been with them too. Despite their attempts to be quiet and the path he knew like the back of his hand, there were just too many. It was hard to drown out the footsteps or the crack of a branch or grass underfoot. The splashing of water felt as if it echoed as far back to the Lochs. He had a bad feeling. His gut was sour.  There was burning blood upon his face.

Then...

Farwyn never knew exactly how long it took him, but by the time he pulled himself over the lip of the cliff, the heat had settled in. Sweat dripped from his brow and a thirst clawed at his throat and he settled to sit at the very edge for a moment. His waterskin was brought to his lips and he swallowed the lukewarm water down as he surveyed the land.  Dry and tough as the rock it was carved out of- the land hadn't changed at all since he was a boy. Not the true, natural part of it anyway. Still, even as it looked rough and gorgeous like a woman with a temper, his sight was marred.  

He thought maybe this year it would be different, but it wasn't. 

It was still full of corpses. It was still stained with blood. It still reeked of failure.

The Highlander pushed off of the ground and got to his feet, stepping away from the edge. His water was clipped back to his belt and he finally looked around until a familiar worn rock caught his vision. He walked towards it with the sure-footed gait of a veteran soldier, but his stomach was twisting and he couldn't help but feel trepidation. This was going to be the same as always too, but that never made it easier. It didn't stop his throat from tightening and his aches from throbbing.

“Hey.” He rumbled out a quiet breath as he arrived, stepping around to where the familiar patch of violet flowers grew. Farwyn was not a very superstitious kind of man, but he couldn't help but think that wild patch growing wasn't a coincidence. They never flourished or seemed to grow much beyond the rock due to nibbling animals and the land's hard soil. Yet they didn't falter either, as if stubbornly remaining as a testament.

“....” He didn't know what to say, but that wasn't uncommon. His expression was an ugly one of pain and haunts. She would have deserved a smile, but he couldn't bring himself to do that much anymore. She deserved a proper stone and etchings too, but like a coward he couldn't bring himself to do that either.

“I know she's not ours, but you'd like to see how much Elysia has grown.” He exhaled a sigh and looked up at the blue sky, “Not quite sure how to be a person these days, much less a father but we try. I guess that's all we can hope for, yea? I hear things keep changing around here. You’d like it I bet. I'm sure you can imagine that I've decided to keep my nose clean of the place still. Guess I'm a bit stubborn. Our new place isn't so bad though. It...” The sun waned. Farwyn didn't stay. He never stayed. Life didn't get easier. Words didn't erase the red stains or heal the scars. He wasn't a better man for it. A yearly pilgrimage couldn't do those things. 

Regardless, year after year, he would still make that climb.

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LAYER ONE : THE OUTSIDE

Name: Farwyn Stonewolfe Eye Color: Light gray-green Hair Style/Color: Blonde with some gray (although he insists otherwise.) He usually wears it cut short, but often it grows out in an unkempt fashion. Height: Approx 6′6″ Clothing Style: Casually, he tends to wear whatever is comfortable which usually includes long worn pants, various breathable shirts and often times gloves when he’s working. He favors a few jackets as well, especially in travel. While he has sworn (and sworn again) not to don his armor anymore, it is always meticulously cared for despite showing obvious signs of use from the past.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your Fears: “It seems most have come to pass, to be honest. I suppose the past rearing it’s ugly head again or the Twelve forbid, losing anyone else. Especially Elysia.”  Your Guilty Pleasure: “There are a few favorite sandwich places of mine, not to mention I’ve been eyeing this new sword for sale at the market. It’d be a shame if someone bought it with a lack of respect for the weapon. I’d really be doing a favor buying it. Worth the gil maybe...”   Your Biggest Pet Peeve: “Arrogant stupidity. Annoying chatter. The pricks who talk as if they’d want the whole world to hear or someone sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong. Can’t a man just mind himself?”  Your Ambition for the Future: “Ambitions? That’s... that’s for the little one now. No good can come from me getting much involved anymore.” 

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: “Maybe I should just buy breakfast so I don’t burn down the apartment.”  What You Think About the Most: “Probably the past, which is bitterly amusing because I try the exact opposite. Otherwise I guess it just varies from day to day. Dwelling isn’t healthy and I know that but... eh.”  What You Think About Before Bed: "It feels good to be exhausted.”  Your Best Quality Is: “...”  “I’m dependable? Hells if I know. Certainly isn’t my social graces.” 

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: “Single, I guess if I have to answer.”  To be Loved or Respected: “It can be hard to earn both, but easy to lose’m. One’s a lot easier to talk about and handle these days though. ... I hate these questions.”  Beauty or Brains: “Well, I’d rather have an ugly smartass helping me out in a pinch than a beautiful idiot.”  Dogs or Cats: “Dogs.” 

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: “Not really and honestly people could use a bit more truth. Of course, I’m not talking about the kind such as telling Elysia her mud pies are delicious.”  Believe in Yourself: “I believe I’ve fucked up a lot, does that count?” Believe in Love: “It exists. Begrudgingly it exists.”  Want Someone: “I did once and if Fate is kind, it’ll leave me alone now.”

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on Stage: “Absolutely not.”  Done Drugs: “No.” Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “I am unapologetically myself.” 

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

Favorite Color: “Green.” Favorite Animal: “My horse, but I suppose wolves as well in favor of my name.” Favorite Food: “Sandwiches and anything home-cooked.”  Favorite Game: “I used to enjoy martial competitions when I was younger.”

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be: “Fifteenth Sun of the Second Umbral Moon.” How Old Will You Be: "Ugh, let’s not talk about my age. Makes a man feel old.” Age You Lost Your Virginity: “The none-of-your-business age.” Does Age Matter: “In a lot of things.” 

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best Personality: “I don’t really think there is a best personality nor am I really wanting to indulge in this question. Everyone is different. Although I suppose I’m a little drawn in to those who sometimes have too good of a heart. If that makes an-... gah, just forget I said that.”  Best Eye Color: “Don’t care too much about colors. The one they’re born with?” Best Hair Color: "Whatever’s natural for them. Honestly I’m terrible at this.” Best thing to do with a Partner: “Outside of the obvious, I enjoy a good walk and... well, don’t tell anyone but good conversation too. Hells, please don’t tell that annoying merchant that I sometimes like to talk.” 

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

He was at peace.

Farwyn wiped the sweat off of his forehead as he set his tools aside, ceasing the endless droning of hammering. The neighbors probably appreciated the moment of respite. He sprawled out his legs and leaned forward, shoulders slouched as he took in the view of the Lavender Beds. As a young man, he never imagined he'd be in the Shroud of all places. Let alone that someone would have the gentle mercy of hiring an Ala Mhigan. He had a sneaking suspicion the owner of the house needed a cheap roof repair because they couldn't afford the services from the Guild.  That was fine by him.

That's how his days were now. He could travel and see the local scenery, all while taking in the surroundings from atop a roof, a ladder or anywhere else he could get a spot of work. Now he could see the lush, towering trees and the gentle glow of some of the pungent flowers. A sound of birds and bubbling water became the backdrop between his work and he was able to perfect his craft, day by day. Travel and work. A carpenter. A stonemason. A handyman. He was okay with that.

After taking a swig of water, he let out a sigh and grabbed his hammer and went back to work. The roof was just old, so he'd recommended redoing the whole thing but they just wanted a patch job. Cheaper, but he just hoped that when eventually other shingles started to go, he wasn't going to get blamed for it. His reputation wasn't anything he'd ever cared about before, so it was still a bit of an alien concept now. If he wanted to get hired this way, he had to care what other people thought about him. Not that he could do much more than what he promised.  That... was alright.

A quiet life. There was no more picking up his sword and shield. He wasn't going to don his old armor or fasten the purple emblem with the gryphon upon his cloak. He couldn't afford to explore and his old injuries were too sore to push himself too much. The tactical way of thinking he used to embrace when approaching a problem was growing rusty, but that was just the nature of change. Except this time nothing was going to change. Travel and work. He was at peace. This was...

He stopped hammering for a moment and wiped his brow again. His jaw clenched and he stared at the hammer in his calloused hand. The idea of this lasting forever made him want to yell. The Stone Wolf wasn't complacent. He was in Gridania fixing a roof. It was maddening. He...

Farwyn drew in a breath through his nose and then slowly exhaled, forcing himself to relax. This was a good life.

He was at peace.

The Tenth Deliveries to Gridania All Day

The Eleventh Barback. Stay in Gridania.

The Twelfth Travel Potential project in Costa

The Thirteenth Shop rental. Furnitu-

Farwyn paused his writing only to squint at it and then tilt his head slightly. It seemed no matter how many times or how carefully he wrote, his handwriting was barely legible to him. Thank the Twelve no one else was going to try to decipher his schedule. That wasn't the problem though.  He still had a swathe of little notes to compile for a couple weeks of work. Important work that would put gil in his pocket and food on the table.

Yet no time. No time for her.

The Highlander shifted in his chair, cursing under his breath as it squeaked from the motion. He really should have just built his own chair, but funds were tight and he couldn't afford the wood right now nor the space. I could make this a hobby if I accepted some of those mercenary contracts. The stray thought teased his mind, only making him grumble even more at himself. He had to stop entertaining those thoughts. He was retired. The weapons that he owned and were likely collecting dust in the crates (which pained him personally, those poor weapons) were relics now. Just like he was supposed to be.

“There's gotta be a spot in here somewhere...” He rumbled deeply, rubbing his stubbled chin as he rifled through the notes once more. The shift of papers sent a few of them scattering to the floor and he ended up knocking over the inkwell, only causing him to curse and bump the desk when he ducked under to fetch it. The chair creaked again. I swear if this damnable thing breaks I'm going to wring that man's neck. Good deal my ass.

After a few adjustments, he finally had his papers sorted out and a fresh page before him. He dipped the quill but then paused, glancing up at the clock. He still had time to sort through everything before he had to fetch Elysia from that harpy of a teacher. Not that she wasn't unkind to Elysia, no, but he knew he'd have to find someone else to teach his daughter soon. She was becoming like a sponge, wanting to explore and drink up all the knowledge she could. It made him proud. It made him work harder.

But it came at a cost.

The Tenth Deliveries to Gridania All Day- break, ask around for magic expertise.

The Eleventh Barback. Stay in Gridania. Leave after closing.

The Twelfth Travel- stop at home, bring Elysia. Potential project in Costa

The Thirteenth Day with Elysia

The Fourteenth Shop rental. Furniture order.

A single day. Godsdamn he wanted to give her more than a single day. He'd have to buy something fancy looking in Gridania to make up for it. Maybe pick up some fresh ingredients for her favorite sandwich? What did a six year old look forward to these days?  Probably time with their father.

They were offering a hundred gold for an escort.

Farwyn almost rumbled a growl as he reached up and rubbed his eyes, sighing. A moment later he set the quill down, pretending that it was time to pick up Elysia. Just like he was pretending the ache of his chest was just the same old pangs from the large scar there.

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FFXIV Writing Challenge