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starhuevalley2018-07-20 02:30 am
01 - A Knight at the Beach -
What: Ocean frolicking. Shell collecting. S'more snacking. Star gazing.
When: All week. Next week. Haurchefant is always on the beach.
Other information: I will tread ever so carefully when it comes to FFXIV spoilers. But maybe some. Be careful.
It's hot. Haurchefant has heard stories of the sweltering heats in the deserts of Ul'dah and he suspects that it must be something akin to this. For someone who has grown somewhat acclimated to the ice and snow and the often below freezing temperatures of Coerthas... this is a dramatic change of pace.
There is a positive to all of this however. The ocean! It is a most splendid wonder. A beautiful shimmering ever moving jewel. The ocean waters were both too far and much too cold for him to ever dream of stepping a toe in but this one? It's simply splendid!
When dusk hits and the air itself cools off a bit the ocean is delightfully chilly and that seems like the best time for someone like him.
You'll likely find Haucherfant there most nights. He hasn't been here long enough to be considered a staple there but he's well on his way.
Seashells by the Seashore
It's like an unspoken treasure hunt. Each wave brings all sorts of curiosities. Shells mostly, of course. And they are of all sorts but so many he simply isn't familiar with. He even finds some star shaped creatures that are so utterly sublime! Sea creatures, that are as far away from the sky as you can get, in the shape of stars.
That's beautiful.
But there are plenty that he does know. Like washed up oysters. Or perhaps clams? He can't tell the difference. Is there a difference? Either way both can be considered tasty. And perhaps they are full of those ever precious pearls. A fine gift for any number of people.
But on top of that he's found all sorts of things that don't belong in the ocean. Or at least he certainly doesn't think so. Like... This clock on a leather band. And these cracked glasses. And these bottles! He's got a whole little pile of discovered treasures... or... trash. It's actually just trash.
Do you want to build a campfire?
Too bad. It's already done. But that's less work for you and more enjoyable fireside time. Warm as he is the light is necessary and a fierce breeze on a cool night does offer a chill. So best to keep cozy. It's no hearth in his keep but it is a fine replacement.
But even better. He has been told of a most splendid treat. S'mores! A sugared cracker. A piece of chocolate and some white blob create a most decedent piece of food. It feels so sinful yet delightfully delicious. (Which is kind of his thing.)
But there is plenty to share if you're feeling that late night sweet tooth.
Star Light Star Bright
This is not a sky he recognizes. If he was an Astrologian he'd be having a most dreadful time. There is no dragon star to pinpoint the rest of the sky with or anything like that. It's as much mystery as the rest of this place is. And there is something fascinating but altogether sad about that.
He could not see the sky too often in Ishgard or Camp Dragonhead. It's always snowing or grey storm clouds are billowing in. To see the endless pool of stars was a rare and fine treat. And he worked hard in his studies as a boy to be able to name them all. But this? This he does not know.
Beautiful as it is...
Well. He hasn't allowed himself to dwell too much on the future and what it might entail. What he may and may not see again. Nor the fact that no one will remember anything that has taken place. All these heart felt and sincere words will not remain for those that need them the most. And that is truly whom he worries for. The ones that needed to hear from him. They will be returned with the same burdens of the heart.
It leave the knight quite melancholy on this starlit evening.
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It is not his fault. This is not the first world Era has been to where loved ones look upon her as a stranger. She is... used to it. It has become her new normal. Being a no one, with nothing to her name and a burning desire to help regardless of it all.
Era realizes she still holds his hand, yet cannot bring herself to let it go.
"You are not my brother... Yet you are. And still I am naught but a stranger."
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He clutches her hand tightly bringing a second to hold onto her all the more.
"We are not strangers... we are meeting again and for the first time. How truly lucky I am to be allowed another encounter. To be allowed to get to know you all over again." All these warriors. He will hold onto them and dry their tears. Over and over and over again until there are no more sorrows left for them to carry in their hearts.
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Era wishes to make this clear, because. She doesn't want him to feel guilt. Not over her. She knows the man well enough to know that he will take far too many burdens upon himself, and Era does not wish to add to them.
"I am Era Ra," she says. "'Angel of the Brume' they called me, in the last Ishgard I found myself in.
"I have not been known as a Warrior of Light for many moons now."
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There's no stopping the guilt. That has a ship that is long gone already. And he intends to carry these burdens despite her wishes. He must.
"You sound as if you have many tales to tell... Curious I am to here how you are an Angel of Brume... for I know those that live down there are in need of one such as yourself." And it would be the Warrior of Light that guides them even if she claims to be on no more.
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"I have no more tales than any other adventurer." In her mind this is the truth. Era may have more grandiose tales to tell, but she has seen barely four years of her own. There are twenty-two summers' worth of adventures she will never make up for.
"I kept them fed, and treated the Red Throat during an outbreak."
Era reduced the mortality rate by a large factor, and yet she is not aware of this. All she can remember are the faces of those she failed, and the people who loved them.
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"Red Throat is... Had those less fortunate been left to suffer and die and then presumably to rot... It would have swarmed the city and there'd have been little to do to stop it."
They say the wealthy have poorer immune systems than those below. That they have the means to take better care of themselves so rare are they ill. There has been a concern from healers for a long time now. Red Throat... Had it hit the nobility might have been the end of a long line of families. An angel indeed. She saved those that were less fortunate but so much more who were never even touched by the illness. Who may not have even known of its presence.
"You speak so flippantly... as if you have no idea what you've done. The houses and people you saved not just below but above. Perhaps even my own Father and brothers had it gotten that far. Tis no deed that should be shrugged off as nothing."
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"I could have done more, had I not fallen ill." And when he speaks of his family... Era thinks of how badly things could have gone. "I was found and taken to convalesce in Fortemps Manor. It was my greatest fear that your family should fall ill because of my carelessness."
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He again squeezes the hand in his. "But they did not catch ill and my home was saved thanks to your deeds. You should be proud of what you've done not sorrowful."
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It is a subject Era has never dared speak of with Rose. That all-encompassing guilt when she recalls all of her failures. "So many children died in my arms, Haurchefant. Drowned on dry land by blood. And for all my Blessings I could not save them."
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At this point he does not think he can make her understand in a single evening. It will something that will take time. He'll take this last stab at it before he'll let it be. It's not a dropped matter and it will be returned to but not right now.
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Permit him she does. Era is more than happy to lean into his warmth, and let his familiar scent wash over her. She is far too thin in his arms; tiny in a way that even a small Au Ra woman should not be. But she is safe. Comfortable. Sighs softly and lets herself slowly go boneless against him.
"Haurchefant... Would you think differently of your Warrior of Light had you learned they transformed into a Primal, like the Lady Iceheart?"
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"You did all you could... you must know that deep down." No matter how hard you fight and try and sacrifice not everyone comes out of it alive. And that's a sad truth all warriors and knights must learn.
But her question... It takes great thought.
He never saw Lady Iceheart transform, only heard second hand. But he did see the big whale. And he's heard a great deal about what they look like. Great monsters and beasts. Larger than life.
To imagine the Warrior of Light he knows to transform into something... horrific.
"I..." He starts faltering for only a moment. No, he knows his warrior enough to speak on her behest about this situation. "I think if it happened it would not be of her own will. She'd have been tricked and captured. Forced and berated into becoming something she should not be. I'm sure she'd be frightened and afraid. I think she would find a great self loathing in the event. A desire to hide more of herself than she already does. A shame even..."
He rememembers seeing her at the side of Lady Iceheart. He remembers feeling disapproval and concern. The ever prominent question of why? She held her ground on this, assuring him it was well in the moment. But after things had settled she was quite dismayed to have disappointed him in any sort. To draw suspicion to herself. Should his warrior have turned into the very thing she slayed... He thinks she might very well disappear from the world as the original Warriors of Light did.
"I would not know what to think... I fear I would be far more concerned for her well being and what she thought. He fear and anger and how I would trek the world to find her after such an event for she would be in aid then more than ever... I would not think poorly of her for she could not have possibly willed it to be. She would never."
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Era's breath hitches. A sharp inhalation as her body stiffens suddenly. Because Haurchefant's thoughts are far, far too accurate. Tricked and captured and tortured and dehumanized. They demanded information she would never dare give. They ripped every scale from her body. They drained her aether to the point of death.
They would never have meant to make a Primal - she was naught but an inconsequential friend to their Warrior of Light - but that was what happened in the end.
She buries her face against his broad chest but doesn't dare wrap her arms around him. However dearly Era wishes to hug him it is not her place. He is not her Haurchefant. He doesn't know her. The fact that he is even doing so much for her right now is just a testament to how wonderful a person he is. She wraps her arms around herself instead, fingers pressed so firmly against her flesh that a few of her new, brittle scales fall off her forearms.
It is this that makes Era wish to cry again. The straw on the Dhamel's back. Never has she been one to cry. Never has she sobbed, whole body quaking with her sadness.
But she is in the arms of a Haurchefant who is not her own. Who understands what would have caused a Warrior of Light to turn into that which they were meant to destroy. Who has reassured her that there is at least one person who would have forgiven her.
So she lets the sob burst out of her throat unhindered. A sound she has never made before and is painful on her throat. She can barely breathe, nor see. There are too many tears. Her emotions are tumultuous and agonizing.
All she can do is cry and cry and hiccup out apologies between choked breaths.
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Haurchefant has no words to offer. He can think of none. His presence alone must be enough and he hopes it is. His gentle fingers through the length of her hair, the steady and soft rise and fall of his chest. And he lets her be and cry all the tears she could possibly have out.
"I can only imagine-" He begins eventually after lengthy moments of silence with nothing but her sobs and the rolling in of the sea. "-that the Warrior of Light I knew would be most heartbroken at such events. It would not be the first time she found herself with so few friends... as if the world itself had turned against her. And though I can be by her side no longer... I would hope she knew that I would support and love her all the same. Just as I do in her current form."
He brushes his fingers against Era's horns, familiar in shape and design. "They used to say, long ago, that Au Ra were the progeny of dragons. Such a thing meant that terrible things happened to your people. Crimes that mine did upon yours that no amount of time will truly forgive. How my Warrior hid herself especially from my eyes upon first meeting. But I could still make out glimmering scales and duel hued eyes. And she was so splendid. She stole my breath away upon meeting. A form that was once feared is now one that is loved. I cannot see why what happened to a Warrior of Light turned primal would be any different... Why that love would ever be shaken. And if it is, it is certainly not done by the people that matter most."
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"I remember when you first saw my horns and scales." It is easier to say 'you' rather than 'my Haurchefant', and so she will continue to do so. "I remember how your eyes widened so and you were so very surprised, even though I knew you were aware of what I was."
She sniffs, hiccuping slightly. "You were happy that I trusted you enough to show you. You were the first person to say they were beautiful."
Rubbing at her face, Era exhales. Relieves some of the lingering tightness in her chest. Leans into the gentle pressure of Haurchefant's fingers on her horns.
"The Ishgard I left behind - my Ishgard - grew accepting of me once the war was over, though still there were those that would trip me in the markets like children, or spit at my feet. After befriending Midgardsormr and Hraesvelgr's brood, any implications that they are my ancestors have made me proud. It is funny there are those who would still think it an insult to me when dragons are so beautiful."
She cannot say much on the slaughter of 'her' people. Au Ra is her race, but they have never been her people. Her people are the ones she's fought alongside. The ones she's saved. The ones she has yet to save. All people are her people.
"The Warrior of Light of the world I found myself in last... She was a Miqo'te woman named Rose with hair as red as her namesake. It took her weeks, but she came to rescue me." Rescue her from what she does not say, but Haurchefant is likely aware. "She shouldn't have come."
Era thought she was done with the tears, and yet finds her eyes overflowing once more. "I remember her dying in my arms. It was just like- Like in the Vault. There was nothing I could do. I could not even save myself. But then everything hurt." She shudders at the memory, however hazy it is. "And then Rose was alive and... And Seraph slaughtered all those who hurt us for so long.
"But I do not know if Rose lived, in the end. Or if she hates me now for what I did. I collapsed and woke up on the bus and I don't know, Haurchefant."