* AZURE / ASHES

     Of all the sectors, Edelgard was quick to note that Fibonacci was the one that made her the most uncomfortable, and as such, she would spend an abundance of time there. Observing, watching. Remembering the stories and times of her youth where such pervasive darkness ruined the lives of many. The layers of inequality, of corruption reminded her too of her home. Or what it used to be. 

     It was a shame. A shame that the children here suffered as much as they have now, how much they’ve suffered in the past. As much as she’d like to intervene – and her mind was screaming at her to do so – Edelgard was powerless to enact any lasting change.

     And yet, she still couldn’t help herself from visiting.

     Though she wasn’t necessarily one to hide in the shadows, she couldn’t deny the sort of comfort it gave her. It was how she was able to approach from afar, watching as the man instead sent the child on their way. Maybe today she’d stumbled on something different.

❛ …It was almost like a dagger. Perhaps not a weapon he was well acquainted to, but it served a purpose all the same. You speak of recklessness, and yet you returned the blade to him. Why? ❜

    “The weapon is not wherein the problem lies – ‘tis in how he chooses to use it. Would you say he knew his own purpose? The boy was a hair’s breadth away from injuring himself.” To maim or to protect with steel sharp enough to cut through what was in one’s path was something that required resolve. Those who had lived through enough conflict would understand, and it was a point he knew the youth would grasp sooner or later. Shrugging, he added, “Mayhap he will find a purpose for that blade in something besides foolishly waving it with empty threats for coin and rations.”

     Explaining himself was far from a point of normalcy for Estinien, let alone towards a stranger -- yet he answered this woman nonetheless. She seemed… troubled? Deeply contemplative? Whatever the appropriate term might be, and although it was not his business what she felt, he at least could tell she did not question him with malicious intent. Admittedly, he was a little doubtful of her interest for events in a place that was tucked away in the far corners of society. This area of the ward was like a stain that those who stood above tried to cover -- far too reminiscent of the Brume.

    “oh, do you?” those words are fast to catch dar’khol’s attention, giving an interested lean forward as if the motion alone would coax out an answer. the smile he wore only seemed to widen, as well, as the unseen one of the dragoon’s vanished before he could catch it. “with or without the lance, may i ask?”

    “ i’d love to know if you’ve picked up an appropriate hobby in your absence. “ gods know they’d have plenty of time being here to do so if word of mouth proved anything. playful curiosity guides his chin up, as though to further push for an answer until his eye gives the man another look over. his arrival would be met with similar limitations, would it not? like a weapon crafted from wood to replace more trustworthy steel. rather unfitting he had to admit.

    “– or mayhaps you’ll take your downgrade as further means to push yourself. like a student fresh at the guild again, hm?”

     He had nearly forgotten about Dar’khol’s penchant for fixating on particulars of what was said, taking ahold of it, and using it as the reins to pull the conversation to who knew where. Ah, but how could he ever be left to forget anything when it involved the Warrior of Light?

    “You are among the last I will think to turn to for matters of propriety.” If Estinien even had such an inclination to do so -- which he, of course, did not. What he did have was a whim to give in for a moment and humor the other just a little, even if it would undoubtedly bring him some degree of regret in the not-too-distant future. Before he could say anything else, however, the next line to be spoken in an all-too-jovial tone by Dar’khol put an end to that thought. 

    “appalling?!” if it were possible to be even more taken aback dar’hol may very well find himself back on eorzean soil. there’s a bristling of fur evident in a rising tail that followed a defiant stomp of a foot; a rising temper he poorly held down. “so says the unkempt mess of an elezen! i’ve witnessed voidsent with better appeal – augh!” not to his particular tastes, he could accept, but he refused to swallow this. 

    “i’ve barely gotten my thought in and you’re already denying me! what – are you going to call me ‘repulsive’ to the eye? because i think we can both agree that to be the fattest lie ever told!” the nerve! if he meant to wipe the smile from his face, then, he’s certainly succeeded with that. “you’ve poor humor, you know.”

    heels that clattered against exposed roots and scattered foliage, along with the rushing sound of a talon-infested stampede behind him were enough to have his ears ringing. the sound of rushing blood and a quickening beat were all too familiar sounds, as well; there was enough to almost drown out the distant sounds of other life that dwelled within the jungles depths – yet a voice rang unmistakable amongst it all. desperate as his current pace may be, he made time to lift an ear to it.

  a name sat against his tongue, but he need not say it to distinguish who had felled one of his many (unfortunate) pursuers. there was a distinct sound of something stumbling behind, no doubt the very beast struck by a steadied spear, and then his peripherals were filled with a familiar sight. dar’khol couldn’t resist the way his lips pulled back, flashing a fanged grin at the welcomed assistance. “just wouldn’t feel right if i was allowed to take it easy!”

  the dragoon would be spared from the miqo’te’s usual want for banter, saving what breath he had for his – now their – escape. 

  estinien’s advice was something dar’khol was already set on following before it had even been spoken, golden eye already searching through the gaps in the trees to pinpoint the next route to dart towards. surely he’d passed a cave coming in this far and, vague as it was, any hint of an idea was as good as any. with only a quick glance to the dragoon at his side, it was a brief signal to follow as the warrior made a quick alteration in his path. practically skidding against the dirt and weaving between the trees. for a moment, he had caught the smell of rain, too.

    “there should be a cave nearby, i believe! can’t say we’ll beat the coming storm, but that could work in our favor.” wash away the scents as they vanished into water and mist. a branch is ducked under swiftly, another quick turn made. he can catch a few croaks of disapproval from the scalekin, already. good. “– hey, you’re still able to jump, right?” a higher vantage point might help.

     Had it been his first day meeting Dar’khol, perhaps he might have felt just a bit confounded by the chipper tone and all-too-bright grin like they were simply two trainees ordered to run laps around camp. What was there to be so jovial about, anyhow, with a splintering axe and the brunt of one’s abilities sealed away? But because he had known the other long enough, what Estinien ended up with was a small sense of reassurance: ‘he seemed to be faring well for now, even without his usual companions by his side.’

     Although, that relief didn’t stop his quiet scoff and a partial grimace from showing on his face. Was he still able to jump? Now that was the question for the proud dragoon, wasn’t it! Rather than giving a direct answer, he found it best to simply respond by action alone.

     With what appeared to be the barest minimum of care, he folded an arm around the Miqo’te’s waist – and yet it was somehow a firm hold, as if there was a modicum of thought in ensuring the other’s wounds would not be agitated further. The jump Estinien could pull off at present could not be considered ideal, but an elusive backwards leap was enough to put more distance between them and their pursuers. Only, he hadn’t quite accounted for the added weight of another person, and the trajectory of his jump was slightly off, landing them not too gracefully and slightly off from his intended spot. His saving grace, at least, was the multitude of experiences he had of tumbling to the ground one too many times; like this, he had developed just barely reflex to push against the tree’s trunk and adjust their centers of gravity. Dropping the champion of Eorzea? He would never hear the end of it. And no, he did not stumble – not that noticeably anyway...

     “There. Just beyond the foliage to our left. That must be the cave you saw earlier.” He cleared his throat and spoke hastily, covering for his swaying balance and almost misstep that would have added onto his long list of mortifying falls. His eyes, as well, were kept well away from Dar’khol and fixed on their surroundings instead. A few of the more persistent creatures snarled up at the tree, trying to intimidate their prey into returning within reach. As if the Warrior of Light and former Azure Dragoon would be so foolish! 

    it was a matter of time, really, before having something wish to sink its fangs into him. many of the creatures he’d passed or seen thus far had been docile, not paying much mind unless the miqo’te were to give them reason. yet, there were also those that viewed a passing presence as prey, following that instinct to hunt and eat whatever could be found. it wouldn’t be the first time he’s been in such a situation, and hardly the last. be it wolf or scalekin there were enough scars lining the flesh to tell each tale.

  perhaps there was some luck in the encounter being with a creature roughly his own size, but it didn’t erase the threat of having to avoid a snapping jaw. a few times had tooth and claw caught the skin of his arms, but so too had the blade of his axe reached through scale and softer skin below. the wood became stained and the beast more aware of how it needed to go. its jaws had not, next, been aimed for dar’khol but the weapon instead. sinking into the wood, causing it to splinter and threatening to snap it. “oh – no, you don’t.”

  swift and with as much force as could be mustered the warriors heel came crashing against the reptiles torso, watching it stagger back in surprise. it put in one last cry before it was falling limp against the earth, head of the axe coming to rest along side it as the weapon came to a still after a final blow.

    “it was either you or me, you know.” a sigh of relief passes parted lips. weapon was lifted once more, arm turning to fasten it to his back until growing still at the sound of rustling. that reptile hadn’t been alone and dar’khol could bet that cry it gave was its last call for help. “… but you’re certainly getting the last laugh – !!”

  one was enough, with splintering axe aside. two more, and who knows how many others, might be more than he could handle. the fresh wounds on himself and the fallen didn’t help much and it wasn’t long before the miqo’te was turning tail and sprinting.   /  ( @wyrmbrood​ )

     Whatever means by which the dragoon was, against his will, transported from one isle to another left a lingering sense of dizziness. The surrounding foliage offered nothing useful either in discerning left from right, but perhaps the goddess thought to smile in his favor by pointing him in the right direction so that he would not be wandering about aimlessly. He hadn’t strayed very far from where he had ‘spawned,’ just then clearing the lightheadedness, when he heard the sounds of battle nearby. Like a beacon, the noise drew him in –– a natural response for someone in search of clues.

     The all too familiar ruby red color he saw was like yet another beacon: he didn’t need to fully see the man’s face to know exactly who it was sprinting away from a group of unwanted followers. “To think that even you would be fraught with troubles here!” It was, in his opinion, neither the time nor place to waste away with exchanging words of greeting. Nothing helpful would come out of asking why the Warrior of Light had shown up in the same area when there were more foes chasing after them than could be counted on two hands. 

     All of the creatures were unlike any he had seen before, and one was faster than the rest. He needn’t think upon it to draw his spear and pierce the beast’s forelimb. Flimsy though this weapon might be when compared to what he was used to, it at least didn’t snap in half when he tore it out of the wounded beast more forcefully than intended. But no matter the material this spear was crafted from, Estinien was no less practiced in handling it, and he kept it by his side as he would normally while breaking out into a swift run. 

     Depravity had a way of rooting itself where the distinction between classes was nearly tangible. The scornful looks and unmasked disgust gained simply by not being like the others, whether he was loathe to admit it or not, reminded him of the Holy See. A shame he could not stand atop those towers that looked as if they could touch the sky – he would have been able to observe the ward’s layout much better than from down below.

     For a dragoon to be forced into a low vantage point, it was almost insulting.

     As he thought this with a bit of a sour expression, a youth took his divided attention as a cue to dart out from the shadows. The boy must have hoped for something of value by waving a weapon and issuing threats – yet it took Estinien all but a couple of seconds to disarm him and look down with blatant disapproval. Perhaps, in the eyes of some, it might have even seemed a little condescending, as were his words: “Recklessness will end your life than a shortage of coin.” He picked up the folding knife that had clattered to the ground, retracting the blade and returning it to the youth. “Your hands are unsteady. This is no weapon for you, boy.”

     – ... how quick the young man was to turn tail and run, not so much as uttering a word in response to the Elezen. 

     The ability to adapt was better for some than others; although, could what he saw really be thought of as such a thing? His gaze, just finished sweeping across the shoreline, settled on a group that had opted for passing time by splashing water onto one another. Laughter, delighted squeals, and cheering gave the impression that they had not whisked away to a mysterious island – the name was ‘Nommin Isle,’ if memory served – by unknown methods.

     “... hmph – you would think we were here for a vacation.” Estinien addressed no one in particular, tilting his head upwards to face the azure sky. An almost ironic thing for him to say, however, while dressed a bit too warmly and with a wooden spear against his back.

    “oh, come now! it wouldn’t kill you to humor me with a bit more curiosity!” or maybe it would, who would know for certain. not that the steeled expression and curt response were unexpected; the normal front the dragoon wore and he almost dared not welcome any more than that. “how do you win arguments, hm?” dar’khol offers a pause, head tilted with an increasing grin as if to coax a bit more thought out of the elezen – though he knew he would not get it. “would you rather i just –” a snort. “– jump straight to the point.” the warrior of light is many things, king of comedy is not one of them. but he entertains himself well enough.

     “Humor you?” The suggestion was quick to bring out a scoff from the dragoon. “I would sooner press my face against the belly of those flying furballs’ chieftain as some of your adventurer friends are prone to do.” Effortlessly, he expressed his contempt for those rodents and whatever mischief the other was up to. Unfortunately, it was not enough. How could it ever be enough to stop the Warrior of Light?

There’s something dangling from that man’s spear.

Voyager should probably not just have been wont to charge in and investigate, because he knows that spears are dangerous. But this one looks like it’s just made out of wood, and he’s really interested in whatever is hanging from it. He’s blissfully unaware of how aggressive the man holding it looks, too; instead, his gaze is held firmly on the whatever-it-is, and Voyager wants to check it out.

So he does.

It’s practically with bounces that he makes his way over, humming quietly to himself as the distance between the two of them is closed. Three – two – one – there he is! Little to no space between the two of them anymore, and Voyager’s lips part gently as he raises up a hand to try and bat at the object. Some kind of … oh, the word escapes him. It’s got a little chain, though, and he likes the noise it makes, a little sort of clinking noise.

–still without a care in the world, he keeps batting up at the Clink, absolutely enthralled in his little game.

    He knew not what unsavory character thought this ingenious. 

    An all too flimsy wooden armament would have been enough, but insult was added to injury, and an extra gift was attached to the spear as well – one that bore the likeness of his former nemesis, to boot. To think that the source of that incessant clinking noise whenever he walked would be something so small, yet no less irritating to see. If not for otherwise being so ill equipped for an environment unknown, he would have done away with the spear immediately and replaced it with a more durable weapon.

    “As for this ridiculous charm, it will find a better home at the bottom of—” 

    Clink! Clink clink clink!

    Complaint was left unfinished, and his hand was frozen in place mere inches away from tearing off and discarding the keychain. Indeed, it was the selfsame keychain that had caught the attention of a young child who nearly escaped his notice. How quickly had this child darted over? “Were you not taught to be wary of strangers?” As if he was emphasizing his rebuke, Estinien lifted the spear just out of arm’s reach...

    there’s purpose in each step; each click of heels against stone pathing beneath them. recognition is sparked in a pool of gold and an almost eager sway takes hold of a, now, bouncing tail. familiar faces were few and the ones that were found being far from desirable company. so to find one – even just one – person he recognized guided the miqo’te forward without a moments hesitation. 

  besides, how often was it that the warrior could easily approach him without the man in question taking off? disappearing from sight with the ease of a flowing breeze and leaving naught but a fleeting message if you were lucky enough to deserve one. “you never stray too far behind, do you?”

    “i’m not quite sure if i should be glad, or disappointed, to see you here, too, estinien.” the former, clearly, if body language gave anything away. a friend was a welcome face, after all, even if he wouldn’t be so eager to admit it allowed with this one. 

    suffer his company for a while, won’t you, ser?   /   @wyrmbrood​

   "Your choice of words imply that I make a habit of following you.” 

   He should have known better than to pick at the way these words were strung together. But how could the Warrior of Light be easy to ignore? A hero who was meant to bear that mantle, and someone worth his acknowledgment (regardless of a regrettably flawed personality), could scarce make themselves unnoticeable. Faint as it was, a slight smile that starkly contrasted with his otherwise unfriendly expression crossed his lips for just a moment. By the time he had turned with arms crossed, he must have looked as enthused as a rock –– especially at the tail giving away obvious signs of delight.