#jahza

“And that,” J’ahza exclaimed in his sing-song way, “Is how I became the numero-uno premium breeding stud of the Jackal tribe.”

Peregrin stared at her half-eaten meal of dry sprouts and saltcod, wondering if she had it in her to finish her food. With J’ahza repeating the oft-told tale of his ascension of Nunh, she had to decide if she was going to correct him or let these new exaggerations fester in the pit of her belly. Her appetite depended on it. Shishi, their new Doman intern was staring at the miqo’te in a kind of awe and Peregrin was worried she’d fallen for the tale. It made her stomach even more topsy-turvy. She had to say something.

“Have a big brood, do ya?” Peregrin heard herself asking, “Made a lotta fertile Seeker women round with yer little pups?”

Despite the ribald tale of heroism and skill J’ahza had just told, he blushed like a Midlander boy faced with his first harvest dance. “Well, uh...”

Peregrin felt bad, but not bad enough to stop teasing him. She was already turning toward the new recruit. “Shishi, ask the runt where he got a six-chamber repeater in Thanalan before the Ironworks had a branch out here.”

“Well, I made it” J’ahza began, “...and maybe it wasn’t, uh, six entire chambers. More than one, though.”  

“Ask ‘im how he had a workin’ aethertransformer before Garlond hisself set a single foot inside Skysteel Manufactory.”

“D-did I say aethertransformer?” stammered J’ahza, “I meant--”

“Ask ‘im why ‘J’avet Alazh’ sounds summuch like Vavette Alazzier, the Elezen lass he was pinin’ for during that entire trip to Dragonhead.”

Both J’ahza Nunh and Shishi Saikasaki looked uncomfortable, though obviously for different reasons. The rest of the lunch break passed without anyone talking. Peregrin was just starting to feel she overdid it when the work whistle sung its two-note song. Relieved, the trio went back to their respective projects at the Ironworks’ garage. 

Unfortunately, this put Peregrin and J’ahza on either side of the same firewall. Peregrin was content to work in silence for a few minutes, but the weight of workplace awkwardness caught up with her faster than she expected. Besides, she could hear the stringbean Seeker struggling not to sniffle and all she could see of him were his wilted ears over the top edge of the barrier. After a moment of that sorry sight, she set her spanner down.

“Hey-” they both began, each sheepishly waiting for the other to continue. It was Peregrin who spoke first.  

“Look, I didn’t mean to humble ya quite so hard, just… I’ve heard that story a few too many times, I think,” she paused, “And ‘J’avet’? Thal’s balls, J’ahza, couldya be more obvious? Just walk it back a spell or two.”

Peregrin could see the miqo’te’s ears perk, then wilt all over again. 

“I’m sorry, Perry, I just…” J’ahza exhaled, “...that version just makes so much more sense, y’know? And I thought it’d be cool if I filled out the cast a bit.”

Even distracted by the heart-to-heart, Peregrin could hear the miqo’te working on his half of the firewall. The scrape-twist-scrape of the spanner reminded her to pick hers up. Soon they were working in tandem, the well-oiled machine that was Garlond Ironworks. They didn’t speak while they worked, though Peregrin couldn’t hear any more muffled sniffling. By the time the last iron plate was adhered to the ceruleum breach-structure of the firewall, things were as they always were. 

As abruptly as the work whistle had blown, the last whistle of the workday sounded. That meant spanners down. The pair were joined near the garage exit by several other employees of Garlond Ironworks, but Peregrin and J’ahza were among the first out the gate. They went their separate ways after that, she toward the Ironworks dorm, J’azha toward Ul’dah. Peregrin stopped before too much distance was put between them. She hesitated, then called out to the miqo’te: “By the way, I liked that version! Just get ya godsdamned manufacture dates right.” 

J’ahza made a gesture he’d obviously learned from someone down in steelcutting. Peregrin wondered exactly how long he’d been waiting to use it. She returned it casually, earning a look of alarm from J’ahza, who obviously thought his relationship with steelcutting was special. Victory in hand, she turned back toward the path to the dorms and grinned. Her little miqo’te friend was going to be fine.

--

Thunder, then ringing. The most pervasive ringing he’s ever heard. Numbness from the thumb to the wrist. Suddenly, his arm feels too heavy. His fingers won’t stay clenched. Cordite burns his nose. Smoke burns his eyes. Something heavy hits the ground at his feet and he doesn’t see it or hear it, but he feels it. A few paces away someone crumples to the sand. Someone important. Despite smoke and tears, despite the darkness creeping in at the corners of his eyes, he sees the mortally wounded J’aya Nunh as clear as day. When J’aya falls J’ahza isn’t long behind. He’s on his hands and knees, weeping like a babe. The crudely made pistol lays where it fell, beneath him and spent of any danger. 

“I’m suuuhhh… I’m... sorry,” wails J’ahza Tia-cum-Nunh, “J’aya, I’m s-so sorry, I didn’t...”