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carrera-ffxiv · 4 months

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Side Story: Blood & Sand

Can a Torrential Abyss drown an Inextinguishable Flame?

Abstract musings for a bored mind. The fighting was mediocrity incarnate.

There were few things that would help sate her lust for violence-- when all else failed, and there was nothing that could be done, she would visit the Bloodsands in Thanalan.

Usually it would be a mere distraction but was it really helpful watching people drink from an oasis if you were dying of thirst? Then again, beggars can’t be choosers. These were serious but friendly bouts void of malicious intent. She could not slake her thirst with such a reserved display; it would be just a tease to even participate. Still, part of her found some small measure of joy in watching raw violence being committed in front of her. It was better than trying to hide the evidence of a capricious murder.

Carrera found herself engaged in idle chit-chat with another spectator, one from Garlemald covered in scars. A well-meaning person who had empathy in their heart for the plight of their people. This meant little to Carrera. Sure, now that your people suffer it’s easy to see that civilians are innocents, but what of the countless innocents in Doma and Ala Mhigo that were murdered in droves for Imperial Occupation. If there was ever proof that becoming an Imperial province would not bring peace, those two nations were demonstrable facts. For a quarter-century they only knew oppression and strife; Doma almost succeeded in freeing itself of its own strength once, only to be betrayed from within and stamped out violently by the Garleans.

She would glimpse a red flash, a burning sensation searing at her left eye followed. It was nothing sinister or intentional, nor anything anyone else seemed to witness, but her aether-sight would catch a glimpse of something unnatural. She focused with her normal eye: The source was a person, dressed somewhat like a knight. Regal golden armor with engravings, and a sword and shield that somehow looked much like a modern day relic: new and serviceable, yet ancient all the same. Unmistakably Hyuran aether was emanating from her, but aspected with fire. Was she tempered?

She wore her crimson hair in a ponytail and wore a polite smile as she challenged an Elezen knight waiting for a fight. Neither tall nor imposing, she gave the air of supreme confidence without a hint of arrogance or looking down on her opponent. A mix of dashing and winsome, Carrera noted.

Looking again with her aether-sight, the witch was mesmerized. There was no way what she saw was her imagination, this person was suppressing fire aspected aether and compressing it into their person. The intensity and density would be masked on top of being rendered to somewhat normal proportions. Sure, it was skilled and practiced, but Carrera saw through such tricks-- trickery and subterfuge were her domain after all.

The battle was an intriguing spectacle. Both bore a sword and shield; the Elezen’s shield crackled with lightning aspected aether. The golden knight appeared to move and fight earnestly but her expression, breath, and casual introduction mid-battle painted an entirely different picture. She would dodge the Elezen’s attack by a hair’s breadth. An ordinary on-looker might have assumed that she had moved out of the way at the last second-- Carrera was anything but. Her eyes narrowed as she meticulously observed this creature. She would wait till the very last second, dodging only just enough to move out of the way of the danger by an ilm, making it seem like she was either lucky or just quick and practiced enough to barely evade. One strike on the Elezen. Two strikes. The Elezen would actually land a blow, albeit, an ineffective one with an unexpected pommel strike.

A finishing blow would be offered by the red haired knight, one of fire aspected aether emanating from her blade-- one might have assumed this was some finishing move of a sort but Carrera noticed it was barely a fraction of a fraction of her aether casually activated to overpower an opponent in a friendly bout. Friendly; At this moment, Carrera could be anything but. Her hunger for violence grew insatiable and her thirst for knowledge would not relent.

Pleasantries were exchanged and healing done. The redhead identified as Sagira used some sort of metabolic acceleration to expedite healing at an unnatural rate. It was magic of some sort, she was sure of it. What manner of creature was this woman? When she came to the sidelines Carrera couldn’t help but issue challenge.

She had avoided these fights until now-- she viewed it as a practice in futility when it came to her hunger. It also wouldn’t help keep her appearances as an amateur mage. But she needed to know what this creature was and she found it a necessity to obtain a sample for research. The conversation was a blur, quick introductions were made-- all the fighting had dwindled down and the makeshift arena cleared entirely, leaving them front-and-center as the only two in a match.

As if the twelve wanted to add to the cliched mockery of the fighters, rain started pouring down around them. Of course all attention would be on their fight so Carrera couldn’t go all out; And now the dramatic rain. Ugh.

It was irrelevant, the fight would unfold regardless. Carrera rested her left hand on the hilt of her katana. A menacing smirk creeping into the edge of her lips. "Well then, Red." she bladed her body to the side, exposing only her left to Sagira. "Shall we?" Her opponent smiled politely before shifting to a somber expression. There was a hint of concern and wariness pointed toward Carrera. She suspected ulterior motives and couldn’t understand why Carrera would wager for a lock of her hair. The knight drew her weapons, moving into a more combat-ready stance. This time her posture was meticulous; steady and somber, ready for anything. She seemed to be taking this fight, particularly, overtly serious.

Myriad patterns of battle all unfolded in Carrera’s mind: She would keep her katana sheathed and use her magic to oppress the woman with unrelenting pressure, assaulting her from all sides and allowing for no breathing room. This would be child’s play as she toyed with her victim. A malevolent grin broke only momentarily as she licked her lips and bit down on her lower lip. The duel continued to unfold in her mind’s eye and the Hollow echoed within her, ringing possible futures and movements, all of which she would formulate a plan and backup plan for. She would start by unleashing red dust to ignite to flames--

Back in reality a small cloud of dust emitted from where Sagira’s feet once were.

The speed was drastically different than the fight Carrera had witnessed prior. There was an alarming sense of urgency as Carrera had no time to react; Sagira’s blade surged forward with grace, precision and speed mere ilms away from her. She had no time for games and no chance in hiding her abilities if she wanted to keep up-- all her scheming was thrown out the window. Normally, she would keep her cards close to her chest but this was no time; this woman aimed to maim her without hesitation.

In spectacular fashion, Sagira opened the fight with intent to end it as quickly as it started. If her opponent couldn’t use her weapons or abilities, then victory would surely follow. This was the knight’s stratagem.

Surprise painted across Carrera’s visage. She could no longer hold to the intention of not drawing her sword. No matter, a quick iai technique to parry the strike was all that was needed. A quick parr-- was she bleeding? Was this pain? Carrera huffed indignantly. "Fast." She whispered in lament, turning her forearm at the last moment so her tendons would not be sheared and rent, instead leaving a deep laceration above the wrist. She channeled aether into her blade to strike with an unaspected quickdraw. It was too late to defend so she used the momentum for offense instead.

‘Surely, the best defense was overwhelming violence.’ She thought to herself. Fortunately, her left was only used for holding the sheathe at the moment; Blood flowing freely down the scabbard.

Sagira was, too, caught off guard. It seemed they both did not expect instant action and reaction to follow. She scolded herself as the blade slashed against her armor, shaving off several of the engravings and leaving a noticeable indentation against the metal. The sheer force of the torrent of aether knocking the Hyur back an ilm. It was difficult to track for some since the exchange lasted only a fleeting moment.

The fight was far from over, however. Gripping her blade firmly, Sagira’s gauntlet grew red as in her previous match yet this time there was absolutely no comparison in intensity. The energy was magnitudes more threatening this time; Her blade igniting in a bright and brilliant crimson, fire-aspected aether dancing along its edges.

Another iai technique was incoming and this time Sagira would raise her shield in defense to knock Carrera's blade away in such a way as to leave her wide open. Sagira’s blade surged forward this time to cut at her right arm. Weaken, disable, victory. A sensible strategy.

Carrera seemed confused in the moment: She was taking this seriously. She was going full speed. She was no longer hiding the fact that her true form was not swordswoman or a simple witch, but rather an intertwining of the two. So, why, why was her sword not finding purchase-- it made no sense. Another high-speed strike from Carrera that would decapitate most others was parried with a shield and now a sharp pain shot through her right arm. To her, Sagira seemed to be a bit of a sadist, torturing her victims by slicing at their extremities. A smirk broke into her expression; she admired the art, after all.

She used instantaneous movement to create some distance-- kicking a backstep while keeping her grip firm and forming a series of mudra with her left hand slick with blood, splattering it along the sands. She would utter an incantation as she did so. ‘So she’s a spellblade as well?’ She mused about her opponent and invoked the ability by name, “Katon: Tenka Goken.” [<“Fire Element (technique): Five (Greatest) Swords under Heaven.”>] She would slash what appeared to be once by onlookers who couldn’t track her movement. It was a series of blurs; five slices shot through the air consisting of razor-sharp aether backed by explosive flames.

Sagira would be pushed back for every hit; she was countered. She was definitely doling out her share of the damage but Carrera would somehow respond in kind every time while keeping up with her in a high speed battle, this felt most unusual for Sagira.

The fiery aether from the Tenka Goken charred away at the cloth of her armor and singed most of the rest. The residual aether of the technique was gathered by Sagira and drawn into her blade, augmenting it and amplifying the intensity; Fire to feed fire. She hoisted her blade up by her face, then pointed straight at Carrera, loosing a bolt of fire, then another, and another. Three condensed and focused blasts of the Fira spell flew from the blade. Was she taking this bout a little too seriously?

Carrera mused, ‘What would have happened to her previous opponent if she fought with such intent and ferocity?’

Her body acted on instinct, she didn't have time to consider whether to dodge or counterspell, her entire body simply acted with a survival instinct; holding true to the strategy of violence employed earlier, she went on the offense. Aether shined blindingly as a torrent erupted from the katana.

One-two-three, she quickly slashed in succession rending the flames inert. While her body reacted with defense, her mind was already on the attack. She was uttering an incantation as she parried, and when she finished, she invoked the technique by name: "Blizzaga." A flash of frost froze everything about them, freezing the rain into tiny needles that would all whirl into Sagira as if caught in a vortex.

Violently slammed by the sheer force carrying the ice needles, her shield dropped first under strain of the unrelenting assault. Her blade soon followed. Carrera’s previous strikes were employing an effect that drained aether, which she had failed to notice until it was too late. The battle happened much too quickly for both to take accurate stock on events and their efficacy of aether usage. Half their battle happened to be instinct and practiced movement.

This final assault of unforgiving frost and rime proved overpowering-- at least not without taking it a step violently and murderously further. Still, she could never kill a stranger in cold blood, even if they did look as suspicious and sinister as Carrera did. As she fell to a knee and the weight of the armor paired with ice finally got to her, "Very well... victory is yours this day." She would fall back into the mud after conceding, needing to take a moment to take stock of what just happened. This woman dressed like some casual witch with a sword happened to use the same principles of aetherial combat as she did and with no small measure of skill. An instance heretofore unseen by Sagira.

Carrera Blackheart did her best not to let the blood seep into her grip but all the movement of battle proved too much. She stood triumphant, a malicious and animalistic grin across her face but her katana extinguished and slipped to the ground. She looked down to see a mixture of mud and blood. "Ah. It seems I may need help with my katana.” she seemed to retain some level of normalcy and control. “And someone to check on my opponent." she uttered in front of the crowd.

She wobbled a bit and fell to her knees while a tall Paladin tended to Sagira. The witch assessed her situation and discovered her aether expenditure was much higher than anticipated; She was usually so precise. She picked up her katana as best as she could while she was down there and awkwardly sheathed it with trembling hands and lacerated arms. It seemed the adrenaline was wearing off. She got back up to her feet to meander toward her opponent, reaching into a pouch and chugging a potion she pulled out only to toss the empty vial over her shoulder like trash. Another was pulled and offered to Sagira expectantly, "Are you alright? You still have to uphold the deal." The potion offered was covered in mud and blood from her hand.

Sagira looked up at the two looking down to her as trickles of blood leaked from her wounds. "I'll be alri-... thank you, that does help." She relented and admitted to the Paladin weaving healing magics. She pushed herself up and into a sitting position. "You hit hard, but I do not need a potion, no. I will heal naturally in time." Her hand reached up to hold itself on her chest, where the first hit had damaged her armor.

Carrera shrugged, "Suit yourself. I need to mend my arms anyway." She drank the second potion, chugging it in its entirety before tossing the bottle. She uttered something, complaining about almost having her hands severed, while she moved to the sidelines and plopped down to allow her forearms to heal. She would need to replenish her depleted aether but she would have her prize and continue enjoying the show for now.

She was satisfied with the results; The down of a phoenix is quite potent after all.

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carrera-ffxiv · 4 months

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Shadowing Grace

A hunch. Osric wanted her to assume that he didn’t think what he had stumbled upon might have been a smuggling den based on a mere, unspoken hunch. A den no less that happened to be hunkered down in the Vigil and then to further house the envoy they had come across – a Garlean envoy no less – found smack dab in Ishgardian territory.

House Cress was now possibly housing an enemy or fugitive of her patron city within the very walls she supported and built. It had House Cress written all over it.

Temple Knight favors. Supposed smuggling dens. A Garlean envoy….

Her hands shook the entire walk towards the barracks. Not from the bite of the clime or fear, not from anger but pure adrenaline she had felt pulsing throughout her body. It was a small wonder she had been able to contain her rage at all and not find something within that very dining hall to put into Osric herself if only to save herself from the insufferable missteps.

Thoughtless. Blind. Tactless.

How did she not see that something like this could have turned around on them? How could she have faith that this small mission Osric had been set forth on wasn’t going to turn around and bite them in the ass?

Thing is, she didn’t know, but she still held on to that third chance. That willingness to allow Osric to make smart choices on behalf of House Cress. Both items, envoy and papers should have been relinquished to the Temple Knights – especially anything that had to do with the Vigil mission. Perhaps a misstep Osric hadn’t known he was making as he only sought to do good.

She had to repeat to herself over and over that Osric wasn’t aiming to undo anything nor had any intention. How could he know? But….he did indeed know the envoy was Garlean, he said as much upon meeting with her earlier.

Who was she kidding?

There was a monster within, edging at her senses, blinding her good conscience, and threatening to snuff what was left of her intellectual wakefulness. She was getting lost in the thick of herself, her feelings, her anger and her rage. For too long she had been watching the missteps and allowing Osric to fumble and catch himself and yelling would have done no good. Lashing out wouldn’t have fixed the problem.

Osric had offered to take steps to fix the issue – alas, his platitudes were not good enough. His verbal bandaids would not be good enough.

It would take her hand and the one thing she knew could make this right. A solemn declaration in which her allegiances lay. It was not with the den or the mission itself, it was not with the Garlean envoy or charity. It was not to her husband who seemingly had a knack for playing hero and suffering for it nor was it to any of those within the barracks.

First and foremost the allegiances lay solely in Ishgard or for as long as they needed to and above that…. House Cress. If there was a threat to upend that peace then it would have to be handled by any means necessary.

Such a task not suited for her husband’s delicate hands. He hadn’t the stomach.

She was the bad guy. The villain in his eyes yet he still didn’t seem to understand what his role required. A role he time and time again demanded to remain within yet hadn’t had the outfit or make to fill.

Slowly the door of the barracks opened and Vahalia stepped in, her eyes darted over the few within who had been in the dining hall taking their meals. It was her presence alone that had the whole of the room stop and stare, a silence that beat through the room for what seemed like eons though it was merely a fraction of a second, “The envoy?” Vahalia calmly asked, “Where is he?”

It was a youthful fellow who pointed to the man not too far from the hearth in the dimly lit room and it was at this moment that all eyes had settled between both Vahalia and this Cyprian goe Muzaka. Her eyes pinned intensely as she framed an order calmly at first, “Everyone out.”

The masses had barely begun to move and some chatter kicked up in the hall as the woman’s demand came. Surely they were all perplexed at a woman barking orders – some not even knowing who she was or having seen her face. Others only knowing of her by name. The lack of movement only brought Vahalia’s voice to rise, booming over the group once more, “ Out. NOW!”

The bodies moved and the screech of chairs along the stone below them groaned in protest, the envoy himself even starting to raise looking slightly confused at what was going on, “You.” she pointed at Cyprian, “Stay.”

She hadn’t moved with the bustling bodies shifted past her in a hurry, grabbing their boots and jackets to make for the double doors. In the commotion, she had barely even registered that they had been chattering about going to the forgotten knight. It was likely they’d fill their bellies with mead and ale rather than the warm meal they had been halfway through.

Finally, the double doors behind her came to a close and Vahalia stared at the man across from her who sat a decent 10 fulm from her near the large fireplace. The warmth of the room itself had barely even registered to Vahalia, her cheeks bitten pink from the cold she had just stepped in from. Her flesh felt like it was ablaze even more, a sensation coursing through her. Had she been anyone else she might have felt bad for the fair-haired man, perhaps no older than a few seasons past 39. What some would still consider to be young, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and shown a measure of hospitality that would be his undoing. He was well-kempt and looked well-versed and polite given how he held himself and his composure in the moment of confusion.

Golden eyes blinked away the reflection of the flames from the fire and she finally started to walk towards the man. Otherwise silent, her heels clicking along the ground in measured intent was what filled the room around them. It was here that Cyprian rose and wiped his hands in his slacks, ready to greet the woman proper whom he had not met yet but it was a good of a time as any to find out

Kind face, well-trimmed beard, and a stern face. He had even begun to bow and open his mouth to speak when Vahalia got within adequate distance to hold a proper conversation. It was easy to assume that he was indeed the fitting bill of an envoy. Barely a word made it past his lips when the blade in Vahalia’s concealed hand under her cloak slashed out and the glint of the fire caught the flat of the dagger. The hall was silent save for the swift splatter of blood that painted the stone adjacent to her and Cyprian.

Vahalia didn’t move and for a beat neither did Cyprian before his hands fumbled up to his throat, a guttural bubble of sound trying to make its way out of him as frantically he tried to contain the remnants of his lifesblood that pumped out from his wound, his neck smiling like the moon above, crimson and warm as he hunched forward and gasped, groping and tugging at the front of Vahalia’s cloak. Upon buckled knee he fell and not quite ready to give in as he clutched and clung, panic-stricken and fearful as the world around him dimmed ever more than it had already been. The passing glimpse of a tall and cold shadow hung over the woman who had just callously run him down without warning.

Who was she? What was that with her?

His lips moved and no sound came aside from the garbled spatter and burbling of what would have been his voice. Wet, death stricken and fatal. His world was overcast and fading as the final sensation he had endured was the ghastly and insufferable pain of the maw of the beast closing in around the front of his throat and suddenly it was not the floor that caught his blood but the cold, suckling mouth, teeth and tongue of the void-touched shadow drinking in what was left of his essence. His aether drained before he was retired from this plane of existence entirely.

All-consuming darkness took hold.

For a long while Vahalia watched in silence as Creature devoured, taking hold of his promise she had said she would deliver. Unbeknownst to her, it would be the Garlean envoy Osric opted to return home with. It was to save some other poor unfortunate soul upon the star but the choice worked out in her favor. Two birds with one stone….was that the saying?

It was as if the haze around her began to slowly lift and bit by bit the sounds of Creature hungrily feasting on the man came to cease. She felt high, drunk and in a lull that her urge was sated. Her anger subdued for the time being and had it not of been this Cyprian fellow, it very well could have been Osric himself.

She had made a pact and she aimed to deliver.

Now, the city itself couldn’t pin a scandal on her for cohorting with past and possibly present enemies if there was no possible enemy to speak of. Osric would pen his missive, return the goods and the head of the envoy could be delivered as simply duty. House Cress taking care of both the threat and the goods in one fell swoop.

Finally she breathed and budged from her spot, her attention gazing down at the crumpled body before her – she would need proof and luckily for her she had papers and remnants of a body to adequately fill that role.

This was but a fraction of the extent she was willing to go through for Hearth and Home. Mention(s): @osric-cress-ffxiv

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carrera-ffxiv · 4 months

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A Grim Reflection

“Kindness just doesn’t have a place in this world.” - or at least that was what she was taught. Not in so many words but instead watching through the shattered looking glass.

Her fingers gingerly ran across the cold metal medallion; it bore intricate designs of horrors and tendrils spinning down to culminate into a hellish mouth consisting of teeth and hate. This singular disc, a relic of an era long past was the cause of her current woes. Long since drowning in alcohol and hedonism, she sought pleasure and sin to escape from the wretched fate she had designed herself.

She stared at her tiny form in the mirror, her narcissism reflecting in the smirk that beheld her own beauty. But that smirk quickly faded as she removed the glamour. Blackened corruption seeped into her veins from where her heart would be, the abyss leaving its jagged claws in her.

This was the price of hubris and for sanity. Scheming was always easy, even as her mind fractured and began falling apart. She struggled to concentrate and remember; From whence began the root of her woes?

Ah, yes. The death of her father and loss of her sibling. Others had assumed Carrera took it hard as she withdrew and isolated herself, a symptom of the mourning and depression that followed the death of kin. Little did they all know it was just a symptom of something far more daunting. In the isolation she began to hear whispers and her heart grew heavy with the thought of her mind eroding-- she knew the voices couldn’t be real. Right? She heard them, sure. Their words, their hissing, their seething. Their hunger. No, no, no. It wasn’t real after all! Until she began seeing the voices manifest. Malevolent creatures living in between the veil of shadow and light, just in the cusp of darkness she could make out shapes- sometimes they resembled people, other times the figures looked of creatures she only dreamed of in fairy tales and nightmares.

It was as if she had a glimpse into a reality that wasn’t her own. Mayhap a bit like the Echo but skewered horridly: twisted and dark. Something she would come to call the Hollow. Where light blessed and gave hope, darkness rung a hollow tune. In the midst of despair she could sense and hear the void calling, giving her grim glimpses into possible futures.

The fact that she could question her own reality certainly meant that she could see objectively, she thought. Knowing these weren’t real made her sane, right? Or maybe they were real. The feelings of hopelessness and confusion felt akin to standing on the precipice, looking down into the bowels of hell, and teetering forward. Entrenched anxiety, an unfathomable sadness, and acute distress surrounded her and consumed her as she contemplated simply stepping into the abyss in the hopes to end it all. While her lows were valleys, her highs were mountains. When embracing hedonistic pleasures and later on, unmitigated and unreserved violence, everything felt amazing-- a rush of freedom and happiness flooded her head followed by warmth and fulfillment. It was as if she had an unforgiving thirst that could not be quenched except by the most vile acts; A desperate and harrowing mix between desire and need-- her rage and gluttony taking control.

Somewhere along the journey of her life she had lost the right path. It all started with wanting to do the right thing. It was all too distorted to look back on clearly and perhaps it was too late for her. She had forgotten a cardinal rule: When you’re fighting monsters, make sure you don’t become one too.

She looked back down to the medallion: a disc, rather. A grim artifact that she once sent wolves to retrieve. Something that contained an amalgamation of power-- something that was revealed to her through the Hollow. Along with that abyssal power was a creature made of pure void. She intended on absorbing the creature for its strength but in an unfortunate turn of events it was taken by another; however, luckily for her, both the creature and its power were splintered.

Once inside Dawn Aethwyn, she thought it could lend form to the soul that was carried by her, an old friend whose crystal Dawn possessed. Her plan went unhindered until Vahalia interfered.

Now hungry, starved, it would chitter and growl for sustenance at the back of her cousins’ mind. In a round-about way it was Carrera’s fault, an action she felt a bitter guilt for and perhaps a twisted mixture of pride at empowering her. Perhaps that was why she felt the misguided notion to be kind to her, but as she knew, there was no room for kindness in this world. They were not princesses in a fairy-tale. They were villains of the worst kind. That which was in their way? They killed. That which they desired? They took. The curse of the Blackheart name, one of hubris and avarice while on the other side of the coin laid instability and madness. Perhaps her cousins were destined for the same fate after all. Though strangely enough, one of the two twins did not seem to be affected.

Once extracted, the power left behind in the artifact manifested into a husk of a voidsent: empty, devoid of will. A will that once belonged to a creature. She would preserve this creation of raw void energies through the use of her witchcraft if only to take bits and pieces to integrate into her own body. A surprising side-effect was that she retained a clear mind. It was as if all the puzzle pieces of a broken mirror had slid into the correct spots within her. Now, what began as a hunger for power became desperate avarice to retain a sense of self. As the age old adage goes: Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. She now needed to inject herself with a vial of distilled essence from the husk to retain her sanity. Even though her mind quieted, her lust for blood had not. A ravenous hunger and unrelenting drive grew in her.

And with that, a profound loneliness.

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carrera-ffxiv · 4 months

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Carrera Basic Profile!

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carrera-ffxiv · 5 months

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CRESS Claims

For all of those who know me and who have been engaging with my stories, content, and character, this post is for you!

I've recently separated myself from someone who was a friend of mine and during this friendship this person and I had created the concept of House Cress back in 2012 before Guild Wars 2 was released. The concept of House Cress is actually older than my son as I was pregnant with him at the time that myself and this other person had fleshed out all the details of what House Cress was to be and that our characters would be, as they were in other game aside from FF14, twins.

For those of you who know me from WoW, I went by Hale Cress and I RPed that character on the Alliance side on WrA for several years after Gw2 and following my leave from WoW I eventually brought my character Hale to FF14 who now goes by Vahalia Cress. It was then that this other person had not wanted to play the game or build the world alongside me since they were into WoW and there was zero interest expressed. So, I started modeling and fitting the concepts of lore and the source material to meet FF14 standards and lore. I have been RPing Vahalia Cress and the concept I have built for four years now and I have gone above and beyond to facilitate RP for myself as well as my FC and people around me who have interactions with Vahalia and House Cress.

Three years into my RP this person/'friend' would suddenly show up, start talking to me more again and then chose to insert herself into the stories and RP I had going at current without communicating with me at length to see if that would be okay. They chose to skip all the MSQ right up to Endwalker despite being suggested not to, and boosted their jobs. They had absolutely no care for getting to learn of the lore and world of the MMO I've meticulously crafted my story around.

Additionally, coming into the story and actively trying to meet her halfway and try to include her I gave her a position as Vahalia's cousin and we collaborated on a few things only for her to later change parts of her character that are vivid parallels of my character Vahalia from changing her eye color, to having her character involved with the exact type of business Vahalia was in and tried to have the character be a family addition in Ishgard as well. Let's also touch on the fact my URL for Vahalia used to be umbral-flare-ffxiv. I later decided to change that because this person decided to use Umbral in their URL as well and that just sat poorly with me. My friends constantly told me that all these changes and choices she was actively making were looking deliberate.

She would disappear for months at a time and come back around to insert herself into FF14 again only to be around for a little bit then disappear again without word.

Despite the disappointment of feeling like attributes and things were taken from my character, I later read a story where this person's character also somehow inherits a voidsent entity (much like Vahalia and Creature for all those who have read my stories) without her knowing little to nothing about the void, Voidsent, Voidkin or the 13th. That was the last thing that occurred for me to get worked up and have enough of constantly feeling like concepts for stories and aesthetics were being siphoned from her. I had even made the mistake of a plot concept I was working on with someone else only for her to turn around and try to write the same with a friend of mine.

Well, as long-winded as this is, I promise I have a point. Because this person and I are no longer friends. The two of us had civilly and amicably came together and decided to go on about our lives as acquaintances because I had voiced to her that the friendship was too toxic and unhealthy. I was tired of her attacking my integrity as a person, making broad assumptions against me that weren't true, on top of calling me a bad friend because I didn't always defend her when she wanted me to or if I disagreed with her. I have been lied to and emotionally manipulated and in a constant state of emotional whiplash with this person.

I cared about them, but things weren't healthy. I was tired of the gaslighting and I had sworn to myself in 2023 that I would continue to advocate for myself and speak up when I wasn't okay with something.

Anyway, We go our separate ways. I felt good about it. I thought "Wow this is nice. We both agreed to this and we can exist in the same space without having to be on a personal level with one another. Because despite everything I still really cared for her and wanted nothing but her to succeed in life and have positive blessings.

I had made the choice to remove her from my Facebook because I believed that if we were no longer on a personal level of friends, her being on my FB or having access to it wasn't adhering to what we had ultimately decided. So I removed her.

The next day I noticed Facebook had her Icon on my dash and I thought to myself, "That's not right I thought I removed her?" so I clicked and went to see if I did, indeed remove her like I thought, and I had noticed she had me blocked.

Then according to my friends and mutuals, they had told me she removed and clocked them and then proceeded to add my new friends from Discord that she's never really interacted with, friend invites. Three have come forward to me in DMs and have expressed to me how left-field and odd it was for them to get those friend requests. Red flag? Pretty sure they thought so too.

To me, a block tells me that that person wants ZERO interaction with you and has chosen to take steps in ensuring that they don't want to see you. Period.

So much for being civil and amicible I guess?

Anyways, I took it with grace and simply just removed her from everything quietly and went on about my business and life. Finally being able to sit at my PC this evening and get to blocking her on my socials, I went to her URL to block her account and I came to find she has a very pointed addition to her details and 'about' on her page claiming that she is the sole creator of House Cress and its stories over many universes. Hence the reason for this post and the long-winded explanation. I thought it was imperative to give context and a timeline of events. Events in which I have several people who can back up my claims. People who have been in my life for 7 years or more and many who have been in my life for 13 years or within my RP circle for a decade or so. They're people who have also interacted with my characters across all platforms dating back to GW2 and have heard this Ex-friend discuss how House Cress was a brainchild of us both. This ex-friend is claiming they're the sole creator, but they're not. It's a project we both worked on in the living room of my 1 bedroom apartment in 2012. It was a project we both had a hand in creating on equal avenues. It's a project that I've always seen as belonging to us both, and even now. For this person to make this claim is perhaps one of the most bullheaded lies she's even decided to put into the ether.

For someone to claim "The person I was 8 years ago isn't the same person I am today." and then go around and do this just out of spite and malice tells me that no, this person is very much the same person they were 8 years ago.

Nothing has changed.

I was fine walking away from her and letting her do her own thing as she saw fit. I assumed that us coming together on a decision meant that we'd have no ill will toward one another.

And I had honored that. Until tonight.

House Cress was not concocted by one person alone, despite what my ex-friend might claim or what she might try to twist. I have text snippets of this person professing to people in Discord in my FC server that the Cress stuff was a conjoined effort from us both and she would always stipulate how long she's known me and she and I would ride on nostalgia and often talk about how long we've had the Cress train going through various different universes.

With all that has been said, I don't plan on telling anyone who this person is because I don't wish ill attention on them by any means. I just wanted to stay in my lane without her sabotaging me or for some reason her feeling that she needed to get her kicks in where she could. So please don't spread hate.

The whole point of this message is to say -- I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here and I'll continue playing Vahalia CRESS as I have been for 4 years. I will continue to build on Vahalia CRESS'S story and enjoy it. I will continue the story and stories I've built up for House Cress in the FF14 universe and enjoy it. I will continue to bring people in on the stories and help to support and facilitate RP and ideas. I will continue to collaborate with others. I helped create this and I have a stake here and I won't let someone try to bully me out of a place I have built, earned and socially been a part of on various scenes for years.

I won't be bullied out of what's mine as I've put a lot of hard work and dedication into this, too much for someone who doesn't even have 10 hours of MSQ under their belt or can properly figure out how WHM works.

This is my space, I'll curate it how I wish and I implore all those who want to want to interact or write with me, to do so.

I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Let's write!

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carrera-ffxiv · 5 months

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carrera-ffxiv · 5 months

Text

Dinner and a Surprise

Rare was the day that snow did not cover the grounds of the Blythe estate - such was the way of most of the properties within the city of Ishgard, but it made for a spectacular sight during the Starlight season. At the direction of Catherine Blythe, the staff were well versed in just how to decorate the grounds to become a sight to behold, welcoming those who might visit during the season to the estate.

Within the estate the Lady Blythe, as she often was on the eve of such events, like the Starlight family dinner was busy seeing to it that final details were seen to - flitting around from room to room and speaking with various staff members.

Her son and husband? They were busy seated within the sitting room, Gerald reviewing whatever the newspaper had to say for the day, and Ricard enjoying a glass of bourbon and barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes and check the timepiece that was currently neatly tucked into his vest. “Checking again isn’t going to make your mother’s guest arrive any faster.”

“The woman is a business associate. I don’t understand what in the world prompted mother to invite a business associate to a family dinner of all things…”

Gerald barely lowered the edge of the paper, narrowing his eyes at his son. “Besides the fact that she doesn’t believe you? Then we’ll say because she thinks it will be entertaining. And keep in mind, Ricard…Lady Gray could have said no.”

Ricard lifted his glass to his lips as he heard one of the staff move towards the door and his father shrugged a shoulder easily. “But, it would seem, she has decided to grace us with her presence after all, hm?”

She had been greeted at the door, snow decorating her raven locks before they eventually melted away upon entering and being surrounded by the warmth of a well tended Ishgardian home. Cordelia was hardly sure what the evening would bring but there were a multitude of reasons she had accepted Lady Blythe’s invitation, one of them being that the woman couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make the younger Blythe sweat a little.

Rounding the corner to the sitting room where she was guided, the specter of a woman likely seemed a bit out of place with her dark crimson and obsidian black fabrics. Even still, she donned a faint smile as she entered and nodded lowly in greeting. “Lord and Lady Blythe, Ricard.” She began, greeting each of them directly, assuming that the man sitting with Ricard had been his father. “Thank you again for the kind invitation into your home.”

Catherine paused what she was doing, giving some additional directions to staff it seemed, to smile in Cordelia’s direction. “Ah, Lady Gray, welcome. Please come in and make yourself comfortable. This is my husband Gerald -” She waited a moment for Gerald to pick up on the hint before disappearing after one of the staff once again.

Ricard gave a small shake of his head followed by a chuckle. His mother never was able to sit still long during any ‘formal’ event.

Gerald had set his paper aside, an older version of Ricard…there was little doubt the younger Blythe was related to these two individuals - with salt and pepper hair, a full beard, and kind blue eyes, stood and offered a small bow before motioning towards the nearby open chairs. “As my wife said, please, come in and make yourself comfortable. Dinner won’t be ready for a little bit yet and Catherine has a tendency to not sit still until it’s time to actually sit down. Join us for a drink?” Gerald turned, narrowing his eyes at his son who caught the look and set his glass down before standing to adjust his jacket and vest.

Ricard took his time wandering over, with his back turned to his parents he allowed his gaze to drift over the length of Cordelia’s form for a moment before quirking an eyebrow and giving a lazy grin, followed by a small bow. “Welcome, Lady Gray.” He offered his arm - motioning towards one of the open seats, “Shall we? What can we offer you in terms of refreshment?”

Cordelia nodded to Ricard as he approached and bowed, taking note of his grin as she flashed a brief smirk at him. She looped her arm around his own and held to it as they passed through the room until she took the empty seat he offered her. “Mm, wine, red please?” Her gaze flicked about the room curiously, taking in the decor before her attention settled on Gerald and then Catherine. “Your home is beautiful. Surely Lady Blythe will join us for a drink as well?”

“Thank you, I’m sure Catherine will appreciate the compliment, should she ever stop and sit for more than a few moments.” Gerald shrugged easily. “But this is the way she is. She’ll slow down just before we move into the dining hall for dinner. Best to just let her be for the time being.”

It didn’t take long for a staff member to arrive with her glass of wine, and a second staff member to stoke the fire, leaving the three to speak and drink at their leisure. “So, Lady Gray - my son says that you’re a business associate of his, which would mean that by extension you are a business associate of mine, since we work together. Not that I plan on asking about work all evening long. Tell me - does your family do much in the way of celebrating Starlight?”

Ricard sat nearby, nursing his drink, content to listen in on the conversation for the time being.

She offered an understanding and curt smile, glancing over to the ever moving woman with a slightly raised brow before deciding to let her be and provide her full attention to the Blythe men. Accepting the offered wine, Cordelia sipped it gingerly, savoring the rich taste of the flavors and pressing her lips together once the glass was lowered. “Ah, well it would seem we are, in that case.” She flicked her gaze to Ricard briefly before continuing further with Gerald’s questions. “I don’t have much in the way of family anymore, unfortunately, though even when my parents were alive they weren’t much for holidays. A dinner, similar and yet much quainter than this perhaps but nothing grand.”

“Quaint and quiet would be appreciated and perhaps the more appropriate route, as it’s often just the three of us.” At this, Ricard did speak up, leaning back in his seat, his glass lazily cradled in one hand. “But heaven forbid mother do anything ‘small’.”

“I wasn’t asking you, son. I’m well aware of how your holidays have been celebrated.” Gerald shot his son a scolding look before turning his attention back to their guest. “Tell me then, Lady Gray, how did my wife convince you to attend this evening as she - as much as I don’t want to admit my son is correct - rarely does anything small.”

Cordelia held silent for the moment, bouncing between father and son as they spoke. “Well…” She began, pausing long enough to return the wine glass to her lips to allow for a brisk sip of the crimson liquid before breaking into a soft chuckle “...Admittedly, she simply asked. Starlight may have never been big in my life or my family’s life but I’m not above trying to enjoy it.” At this, she shifted to set her glass aside to a nearby table, hands smoothing out the fabrics of her gown after she settled back into her seat.

“Well, we are happy to have you and I hope it will be a relaxing and enjoyable evening for you. Despite the way my wife is currently scampering about, and the way Ricard speaks of it, I assure you it is quite a quiet affair.”

Ricard hummed at that, an eyebrow quirking as he raised his glass to his lips, taking a loooong sip.

“Fine, generally a quiet affair.”

Another sound - this one in agreement - came from Ricard as he motioned for a refill.

She was beginning to thoroughly catch on that Ricard was enthused about the evening’s events, Catherine wasn’t wrong about it having ruffled his feathers. “I have no doubt it will be an enjoyable evening.” Reaching for the wine glass once more, she indulged in another taste. “You said that you and Ricard work together in the same business? What other endeavors is your family involved in?”

“We run a financial institution, primarily. Focusing on advising and assisting our clientele in managing their funds. My father did the same before me, and should Ricard ever manage to settle down and have children of his own, the expectation would be that one of his children would follow in the same footsteps. It’s a well established family trade.” Gerald glanced over towards his son for a moment. “He’s always had an eye for details, and so it was easy for him to pick up on what was required.”

Ricard piped up for a moment. “My father is the ‘lead’ partner of the firm, at the current time. I would be considered the ‘junior’ partner. Though, in reality we both have the same responsibilities in regards to our clients. Well - ” He offered a quick nod towards Cordelia. “As you well know - my work for you is in that arena.” He gave an easy, conspiratorial grin before lifting his glass once again.

There was a slight twitch to her features, lips tugging into a smirk before she mirrored the movement of bringing her own glass up to finish the contents. “Ah, yes I do. I must say, I have been quite pleased with the services I’ve received thus far. I’m sure the business will do well under his lead when that time comes.” She nodded once, returning the glass to the table and shaking a head, putting a hand up to say not to a refill.

That earned a chuckle from Gerald, “Take care not to over-inflate his ego, my lady. We may not be able to fit into the dining hall, if you do.”

“Oh, his head doesn’t get that large, dear. Only perhaps half the size of the dining hall.” It was now that Catherine wandered back in, seemingly settled and took a seat next to her husband. “I trust that these boys have been behaving themselves, Lady Gray?”

Cordelia had parted her lips in preparation of retort to Gerald when her attention was pulled away. Her eyes quickly flicked to Catherine upon her arrival, watching her cross the room to finally take a seat with the rest of her family. “Oh, of course, the best behavior. We were talking a bit of business but I believe perhaps the shop talk reached the pinnacle just now. I hope you’re well.”

“Quite. And very glad to hear that someone is behaving.” Her gaze narrowed in Ricard��s direction.

He shrugged lazily. “Ye of little faith, mother. I’m always well behaved.”

Catherine was starting to respond when there came a noticeable knock from the front hall, her brow furrowing in confusion before she glanced up at Gerald. “We’re not expecting any additional guests, are we dear?”

“Not that I know of…”

Ricard, being the nearest to the hall, set his glass aside and stood. “I’ll see what’s going on…just a moment.” He offered a quick nod to his parents and to Cordelia before stepping out into the hall walking down a ways before he spotted several staff gathered and where his was quickly met by a panicked Victor - one of his staff from the Milner estate- just inside the front door, pale-faced and stuttering, barely able to get words out, much less meet his gaze.

“Master…master Blythe! Delivery at the Milner…Milner estate. Terrible, sir…cannot…sir, I cannot….”

“Calm down, man…will one of you get the poor man a drink to steady his nerves, see if we can make sense of what he’s saying?”

It was entertaining enough watching the Blythes interact, Cordelia had little to interject as they went back and forth, though the air stilled around her as the sounds of the panicked man filled the hallway and echoed toward the sitting room. She glanced at Catherine and Gerald with a furrowed brow, shifting uneasily in her seat before pushing to stand.

Instinctively, she wanted to follow behind Ricard, curiosity and admittedly a bit of unexpected concern rising in her chest, but she lingered a moment having not wished to involve herself in matters that did not already do so. But still, her feet slowly began carrying her toward the door to the hallway. “Ricard? Is everything alright?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.” He glanced over his shoulder for a moment before turning back to Victor, quickly handing him a glass of bourbon when it was offered to him.

The poor boy knocked it back in one swift gulp, not recognizing what it was and sputtering for a minute or two before finally catching his breath.

“You’re supposed to sip it, Victor.”

“Never…never had hard liquor, sir.”

“Seems I’ve been remiss in your education then…” Ricard tried not to roll his eyes before motioning for the younger man to try again. “Well? What’s got you all worked up.”

“...There was a delivery at the Milner estate, sir. I…I…can’t say it here in the hall…”

“Then whisper it to me, Victor, just tell me what the hell is going on.”

The younger man squirmed for a long moment before nodding and leaning in to whisper into Ricard’s ear. As he did so, Ricard stilled, eyes going wide as his jaw and fists clenched tightly. “You’re sure?”

“Yes…yes sir. The poor maid vomited everywhere when she opened it…”

“Return to the estate, make sure the maid is well compensated and sent home - with an escort, check in with Delwyn and his team. Send word for them to return. I’ll be returning to the estate as soon as I can.”

“Yes…yes sir.” Victor turned and quickly exited the manor without another word.

Ricard exhaled slowly, shoulders tight, anger radiating off his form as he turned towards Cordelia, taking her by the hand and guiding her into one of the side rooms - well out of earshot from the staff. “...A box arrived at the Milner estate earlier this evening. It contained five sets of eyes, Cordelia, and a message. Those eyes belonged to my men…the men who were tailing Damien.”

Cordelia was surprised by the sudden removal from everything, she had watched on from a distance but couldn’t make out much of what was said but knew it wasn’t good. But this, this is not what she expected nor had she been prepared for it. Her lips had parted, though for once she was initially at a lack of words.

“You’re sure?” She asked, her hands coming to rest on her hips, brows furrowed even further as her own anger rose. “Twelve be damned, of course it was him. That fragile little man…” her gaze floated off from Ricard as she cursed under her breath and silently went about options silently in her mind of how to handle the situation at hand. “What do you want to do?” The question came abruptly, short and sharp in tone.

“I don’t know if he’s the one who did the deed…though how he would’ve had the information or found the men without additional help…No, there’s Cress involvement written all over this.” He growled under his breath. “Tailing is no longer an option. I need to fuck with something a little closer to home.”

His tongue dragged across one of his canines slowly. “Tell me, Cordelia…what do you know about little lord Gray’s financial history…?”

Her arms moved now to cross over her abdomen with a heavy sigh. “Of course, it’s unlikely his hands did the deed, I’m not sure he has the stomach for that…” Cordelia tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. Lips pressed together in a hum, her tongue running over her teeth to make a soft tch. “Not much of his personal history. Ambrose offered him a monthly allowance, it aided in keeping up his staff and the stables for the Chocobos… I cut off the allowance for the stables, allowed the continuance for the house staff. I’m really not versed in how well his breeding and racing does.”

She paused, moving to take a few steps around the room in thought. “He once was helping with the shipments of our goods and materials which offered another line of payments but he’s since been… replaced.” Her eyes glanced to Ricard on the final word before she continued. “He’s recently come to me in search of a truce, an end to the bickering I suppose. Which I took at face value as I’m sure he’s been scheming something else. Though, Ricard, I’m not sure I want to meddle with a deal with the Cress family.”

Ricard exhaled sharply before running a hand through his hair, pacing as he collected his thoughts. “Then what would you have me do, Cordelia?” He motioned vaguely towards the window. “I had every intention of leaving well enough alone and never mentioning the name Cress again, but I informed Vahalia of what was found and now I have five dead men. It’s difficult to just overlook.”

He paused, turning to look at her, “And if I pause - because tailing is no longer an option, I won’t lose my entire network for this man - then what of our arrangement?”

The two were pacing the room in tandem, the ever growing tension felt in the air and yet Cordelia was as calm as ever. “ I don’t know what you should do,what we should do. Not yet anyways.” His follow up question caused her footsteps to stop, slowly turning to face him with a slightly raised brow. She was honestly surprised that was a concern of his at the present.

“I was unaware that our arrangement held a priority.” She started with a muted tone, gauging his demeanor as she stepped toward him. “However, considering the events as they have followed, I would absolve you of the contract, offer your final pay that is due. What you choose to do personally after that will have no connection in the business we previously have conducted. Unless you have other suggestions.”

“I make sure my clients are taken care of, Cordelia. So while yes, at the moment making sure my remaining men are seen to - this arrangement needs to be addressed as well.” He gave a long exhale, his eyes closed for a moment. “I don’t leave matters half finished…I’ll have to scale back for a time…rebuild - ” He paused as there was a knock at the door, followed by the voice of one of the staff.

“Master Blythe…sir, your father is wondering if everything is alright…”

“Fine…we’ll be right there…”

Cordelia had begun to offer a response when the knock came to the door, she allowed for the exchange before opting to continue. “Ricard… I think the job is done.” Her voice was lowering now, still calm and with little emotion almost as if she were attempting to reassure him, in her own way of course.

Ricard stopped, his jaw clenching tightly.

“I do have a backup, an option I’ve been holding on to in case we needed something … or someone closer to him. I just need someone willing to do it and that’s not you, not only would you be easily found out but quite frankly I’d rather not have you cozying up to kitchen staff for information. I can figure out the finer details and get back to you on that, if you wish to be involved but I see no reason for you to continue to put yourself in a reasonably unsettling position simply for your need to see out terms. It was my contract and if I deem it concluded then so it should be.”

“…if that’s what you want.” He started to speak again before another knock at the door interrupted him again.

“Ricard…honestly son, if you wanted privacy…”

“That’s not…” he sighed before moving to open the door to find his father on the other side. “There was a business concern that came up, as you can see - there’s nothing inappropriate that happened in the last several minutes.” He stepped back, motioning to his clothes, and then towards his guest.

Gerald quirked an eyebrow, suspiciously. “As you say, son…but best return soon, your mother already has…questions.”

Cordelia gingerly reached out to graze Richard’s arm, trying to bring him back to the moment. “We can discuss this further after dinner or perhaps even tomorrow once we have had time to consider options. Let’s not keep your mother waiting.” She straightened her posture and adjusted the fabric of her gown, smoothing it out delicately.

“Of course…” He nodded, motioning for Cordelia to head out first, and narrowing his eyes at his father as the pair walked behind and back towards the sitting room where his mother was waiting rather impatiently.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What was that about?”

“A business issue, that’s all. Nothing that needs to be discussed right this second, again.”

Catherine looked…unconvinced, but chose to let it go. For the moment, anyway.

“Apologies for the interruption, Lady Blythe, it seems work doesn’t pause for holidays, hm?” Cordelia chimed, entering the room with a calm demeanor with unreadable features to easily give off the illusion of nothing being wrong. Her hands clasped together at her lower abdomen as she glanced over her shoulder to Ricard. “No more business for the evening.”

Ricard shrugged easily, moving to grab a glass and filled it quickly with bourbon, taking a long sip before offering a nod. “Right, no more business…not for tonight at least.”

Catherine hummed before taking a sip of her wine and standing gracefully. “Well, fortunately for you two, whatever business you had to see to helped you avoid small talk, we’ve been informed that dinner is ready…shall we?”

Gerald clapped a hand on Ricard’s shoulder before offering his wife his arm, waiting for Catherine to take it before leading her down the hall.

Ricard gave a long exhale before turning to Cordelia and doing the same. “Here goes nothing?”

Cordelia watched as Catherine and Gerald made their way from the room before moving to hook her arm with Ricard’s, giving him a pointed look and inhaling deeply. “Considering everything we’ve dealt with thus far, I’m sure dinner will be simple…” she murmured under her breath to him as she allowed herself to be led behind the other couple and toward the dining room where she would come to take the seat she was offered.

“Either you and I have very different definitions of simple, or you’re highly optimistic, Lady Gray.” Ricard’s gaze cut to her for a moment.

The dining room itself was lavishly decorated - the table laid out and the staff prepared to meet the four guests as they entered. It was clear the staff was well trained, and that entertaining was something that Catherine and Gerald did regularly (even if Ricard seemed to drag his heels about it). Course by course was brought out - one seamlessly transitioned to the next, and while it did appear that at least a time or two Catherine had a rather poignant question right on the tip of her tongue either a staff member appeared just in time to cut it off (unlikely) or Gerald knew his wife well enough to know when to to intervene (the more likely of the two).

Either way - Ricard wasn’t upset when the desserts were brought out, quietly making a mental note that he owed his father…something. A box of cigars or an expensive bottle of bourbon - he’d figure the details out later.

Catherine set her fork down before reaching for her small coffee cup, casting her son a curious glance before turning her attention to Cordelia. “I hope all has been to your liking, Lady Gray.”

Just as Cordelia had hoped and anticipated, the dinner went rather smoothly in comparison to how the night had begun. She had far been done with the dessert, setting her own utensils aside to also take up her own coffee and indulging in a warming sip. “Yes, of course. We are all still intact and enjoying a lovely dessert, couldn’t ask for more.” Her tone was teased at playfulness as she returned her cup back to the table before her and glanced to Ricard. “Right, Ricard?”

Fingers lightly drumming against the side of his own cup, his thoughts traveling a malm a minute as they had been most of the evening, his gaze snapped up at the sound of Cordelia’s voice. His mother’s questions he could almost guess and answer by heart - Cordelia’s he actually paid attention to. He chuckled, with a small smile before turning to his mother with a nod, “It was wonderful, as always mother - you truly have outdone yourself this year.”

Gerald, watching the exchange, turned to his wife before reaching for his cup. “Satisfied, dear?”

Blue eyes, much like her son’s glanced between those seated at the table, taking on an all-too familiar mischievous edge as she leaned back cupping her coffee cup between her hands. “So, then…can we expect you to attend more events should we be hosting them, Lady Gray.”

That earned her an exasperated sigh from both her husband, and especially from her son.

“Mother…”

“Catherine, enough. The young lady was kind enough to join us this evening - but they have both stated that they are business associates and nothing more. IF they were courting that would be one thing, but they are not. Leave the matter be. While Lady Gray is welcome to join us at any time,-” Gerald turned towards Cordelia with a nod, “- and you are.” He then turned back to his wife, “She is certainly under no obligation to continue to answer this line of questioning.”

Cordelia initially sat in silence, glancing between the family members with a raised brow, lips tugged into a bit of a smirk. Eventually her gaze fell back to Ricard, a knowing look in her steel gray hues as she looked at him over the rim of her coffee cup. “I understand your desire to have Ricard marry, Lady Blythe, the need for continuing a family name is ever present and a heavy burden.” She began, setting her cup to the table and turning her attention back to Catherine. “I am only just over a year widowed and Ricard seems to be enjoying being a bachelor for the time being. Then again, it is none of my business, of course.”

Blue eyes maintained that mischievous edge behind her coffee cup. “But it could be.”

“Right. Well, on that note, mother, I believe Lady Gray has made her stance very clear. I know I’ve made my stance very clear so - I think it’s best that we wrap up the evening before you try to convince anyone to enter into anything binding, which, everyone seems to be in agreement, will not be happening anytime in the near future.”

Ricard’s eyes narrowed at his mother as he adjusted his vest, clearly preparing to make his exit.

“It doesn’t completely negate the possibility entirely though…”

“Keep pushing, mother…keep pushing…” he turned to Cordelia, “Lady Gray, may I see you home this evening - since you’ve endured this line of questioning for this long?”

The dark haired woman cleared her throat and placed her hands to the table, pushing back from it enough to stand. “Mm, of course.” She moved to follow Ricard, though paused to flash a faint smile to Gerald and Catherine, her eyes falling to linger on the latter. “Should things change, surely you will be notified.” Her tone was low and likely not meant to be entirely serious, but she couldn’t help but look at Ricard with a smirk before winking in his direction.

She was enjoying this.

Ricard watched the exchange, head tilting ever so slightly as he stood, waiting for Cordelia by the door. His gaze drifted to his mother for a moment, who was watching the pair with clear interest.

“Oh…I’m sure I will. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lady Gray.” Catherine turned to Ricard for a moment before the pair exited. “Ricard, I expect we’ll hear from you soon, yes?”

“Of course, mother…Lady Gray.” Ricard turned, offering Cordelia his arm before turning to lead her from the room, and from his mother’s ever watchful gaze.

As Cordelia finished crossing the room, she looped her arm with Ricard’s before regarding the Blythe’s one last time. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Lord Blythe, and thank you both again for inviting me into your home.” When she turned back to Ricard and they exited the room, she gave him a knowing look and offered a shrug as she continued to hold her devilish grin. “Could have gone worse.”

“You realize you’ve added fuel to the fire, yes?” He nodded to staff as their coats were brought to them. After assisting her with hers, he slid his on and offered her his arm again. “One might start to think that you enjoy having me around, the way you were teasing my mother.”

She chuckled quietly as he helped her with her coat, fingers then went about fastening the buttons to ensure she was snug. Scoffing, she took his arm yet again. “Perhaps I’m simply enjoying putting you on edge. Then again, I never said I didn't enjoy having you around.” Cordelia’s point was always hard to decipher, her tone often muted and without strong infliction. This time was no different.

That earned her a small scoff, though he managed to keep it down until they’d stepped outside. “There are other ways of putting me one edge besides ramping up my mother’s hopes of pushing me into a relationship, Cordelia.” He exhaled tiredly. “And while that is amusing and all…at some point we’ll need to sort out that other rather pressing issue…eyes and all….”

The cool breeze tickled her cheeks as they now stood outside his family home, the tip of her nose quickly turning a light pink. “Ah, yes…that is a dilemma.” Her free arm reached around to rest her hand to his forearm. “One we should discuss once you have taken me home and I am a bit more comfortable.”

Ricard nodded, guiding her through the well-known streets of the city towards her estate and keeping his head down, but eyes open and scanning, significantly more on edge now than he had been at the beginning of the evening. “Of course - though how comfortable you’d like to be, that I leave to your discretion…this is going to be a rather long discussion.”

“After tonight? I would say rather comfortable.” Cordelia retorted promptly as they continued their trek through the cold Ishgardian streets toward the promise of a warm home and perhaps a little more.

Collaborative writing with @promethea-silk

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carrera-ffxiv · 5 months

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Faultlines

The first night and the day that followed had been understandable.

After entertaining for as long as they had, engaging with as many guests as they had, to take a day to rest and recover was expected, especially given her state. And while concerned, he had simply left inquires with Annette and Marion before leaving the estate for the day to recruit for the barracks and then to spend the evening researching the origin and potential costs of certain artifacts that could have possibly been in his possession before returning to an estate that was exactly as he’d left it the morning before. As though no one had moved throughout the day.

The second night and day that followed he tried not to let his hackles rise.

She’d been told to rest, after all, and if those were the physician’s instructions then who was he to question her? So once again he’d kept himself busy. Following up on what was within the ledger he’d found, inquiring with antique vendors - some aboveboard, some below - and recruiting in between. Once again he’d returned to the estate to find it seemingly empty - all dispersed to their respective rooms, excluding the staff who saw to keeping the house running.

By the third day the lack of restful sleep and frustration of not just the last three days, but perhaps the last several weeks had built to a point where he could ignore it no longer.

The thud of his boots against the stone floors echoed down the halls as Osric made his way through the estate, from his room to his wife’s, jaw and shoulders set as he came to a stop in front of her door - not in anger or frustration, but simple determination as he knocked, “Vahalia?”

And thus, an answer came beckoning the person who had knocked to come in.

Vahalia had been seated in a comfortable nightgown and robe covering her shoulder which was easy enough to tell that the woman had been already to turn in for the evening. Book on the bed and a mug of tea nearby – she was very much the sight of relaxation and somewhere in between the working and sleeping world.

Her eyes pinned to Osric the moment she saw him and casually her hand went to close her book, offering him whatever attention he desired in the moment of him coming to find her within her quarters, “Osric. What can I do for you this evening?”

The door was quietly closed behind him before he moved into the room proper, mindful of this very much being her space. “I’d hoped to have a conversation.” He was still dressed as he had been for the day, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he stood across from her, his gaze focused on her.

“It seems we’ve had few instances to actually speak in private, especially in the last month and though there’s much that seems worth discussing.” Blue eyes ticked up to meet gold, not breaking away as he held his neutral posture.

Vahalia watched him with some measure for scrutiny but that was par for the course with her with just about everyone. She lifted her hand towards him to indicate to continue and do as he wished at his own leisure.

“But first - how are you feeling?”

“Tired and exhausted comes to mind though I'm quite well, as you can see. Working on following Physician's orders. I see her tomorrow for a checkup.” Vahalia adjusted on the edge of the bed and placed her closed book to the nightstand next to her tea.

A concerned look moved over his features for a moment - not for the scrutiny, that he was used to, but for her wellbeing, “I won’t keep you from your rest for long.” He took two steps forward, gaze not leaving her.

A small smirk found her face, “I’m pregnant, not dying.” her words were calm, and smooth with a hint of playfulness.

“No need to beat around bushes then, I’m concerned. In the three months I’ve been in this estate it’s been rare to see you in one place for very long and yet you’ve been within this room for days…since the festivities. And while I acknowledge that circumstances have changed and realize that you are to be resting, the concern remains.”

“Well, had you looked a little bit harder, you would know that Carrera came to visit the day after, and just this morning Ondrea was by. I entertained a few visitors and saw the books today. Aside from those little details, yes I’ve been within my quarters. It was as I said the other night, that I needed some time to myself.” Vahalia folded her hands in her lap, her gaze steady upon Osric’s mien and this is where all playfulness had left her entirely.

“Seems you and I have plenty to discuss given what has come to light recently coupled with the unsolicited opinions of those around me and the future of this family,” she added.

“And what is it that has come to light and whose unsolicited opinions have been offered? What business do they have in offering such opinions of the future of this family?” He stood quietly, hands still clasped behind his back - there was no defensiveness in his body posture though the wheels of his mind had already begun to turn.

Vahalia shrugged a shoulder ever so gently, “They see things and hear things and as families often do, they talk. Your ability to take on the responsibilities that come with being a Lord and understanding what has been asked of you. I speak for myself personally in this regard. You allow people to walk over you, and the lack of ambition and drive coupled with the irritation of your focus being on unimportant things versus what should be important. I came into this arrangement with you professing you knew what came with it yet you clearly do not, even three months into this marriage. I needed an equal, I needed someone who wasn’t going to insult my kin and their abilities in my presence. Someone who was to lead this family as needed without hesitation, who knew the ins and outs of the expectations and necessities. For a year you nodded and agreed and told me yes, that you understood. I needed someone I could trust and to know would handle things in my absence.”

Sighing, she lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to process the chatter in the back of her head, the nagging voices in addition to her own, that of her cousins, “I find myself at an impasse.”

He felt the creeping sensation - the anger he had suppressed days before working its way up his spine, and slowly exhaled, suppressing it once again before speaking. “Families do talk, yes - but they tend to talk as though they know all the inner workings when they do not. Regardless - I will admit that I have made gaffes in the last three months, in the last week - that there are areas in which I could and am trying to improve.” His jaw clenched for a moment, but only briefly. “When we entered into this arrangement I believed I did know what came with it, and then things kept shifting - and let me be clear, this is not an excuse. It never felt as though we were on the same page - my doing, it seems. And while I realize that the rule of thumb is to apologize for nothing - for that I do apologize.”

He moved over before the bed and knelt down, still leaving space between them. “And yet from what you say it sounds as though you don’t trust me.”

Of course, he would still apologize, "I trust you to draw a bath or find a book. I trust you to not harm anyone within this family without proper reason. I trust you with small, simple things but when it comes to this Household and making important and tactful decisions or being able to differentiate between what is important and what isn't, or to run the business if I'm ever absent and not take anything lying down? -- no. I don't trust you with any of it." She finished and leveled her gaze to his.

Weak. Undeserving. And now untrustworthy. Something in the back of his mind snapped and he met her gaze easily, blue eyes darkening, “You believe that I would run down the business, the house that I signed all of my assets to, that I have chosen to dedicate my all to, that I would fail in protecting the things that you have built this far - that we would continue to build. That I would simply roll over and allow harm to come to those who are here and those who are to come. You truly think that little of me?”

“You're only hearing what you want to hear, again. I do not believe you would intentionally run the House into the ground. You saying that you are dedicated isn't the same as doing, that much is clear in the case of Valeria and her having been followed. Your immediate response was uneasy and your approach was simply ‘I don't know this man and he did nothing to me’ instead of taking action. Your lack of action and tact is evident. I don't feel that there is any we in any of this and there hasn't been, it's been all talk.” Vahalia expelled a breath through her nose as she watched Him, already sensing something within him stir, she could feel the aether shift, “Even now with how I've expressed my worries and feelings to you, you've chosen to take offense to them instead of seek solutions, which is a quality that is necessary for the responsibilities that come with a Household.”

“And what would you have me do, Vahalia?” There it was again, the sensation traveling up his spine - anger, frustration - the voices echoing in his ear - each reminding him of some failing or another, and now her sitting before him, fighting back the red at the edges of his vision. How many times? How many people? Enough was enough. “I can’t go back and undo any of that and so what now?”

The fact he had to ask that only caused Vahalia to chuckle, “What would I have you do? Something, anything. Action of some sort would suffice. What would have been impressive is if instead of letting me commission Carrera to see to the issue of Ricard you stood up, assured me it would be handled and that you were willing to do something about it. The fact I would have to tell you to do anything before putting action into practice is, in and of itself, telling of why I’m in this situation. Standing up for yourself in situations where some would aim to discredit you – hindsight is 20/20.”

Standing, she moved away from him and chose to place herself near a window, finger lifting as she felt at the crust of frost that lined the innermost corners of the cold pane, “You’re right, you cannot go back and fix any of this. I thought we were on the same page but I was wrong. The fault lies with me and perhaps this whole mess is my blame to burden, in which case I can shoulder it and then some because I’m strong and strong-willed enough to handle it. It is evident that you cannot. I took a mouse into the snake pit and expected it to thrive.” she turned over her shoulder to glance towards Osric, her golden-colored eyes softening, perhaps a touch of guilt or regret settling within her outward expression, “The mouse isn’t thriving. It isn’t overcoming obstacles.”

Vahalia continued, her finger moving from the window as her arms tucked under her bust, the robe around her drawing a little more inward towards her person, “There is an old fable my mother used to tell Valeria and me. A scorpion asks a frog it happened upon if the frog could take the scorpion across the river but the frog is hesitant and says no at first out of fear of being stung. The scorpion of course argued that if the scorpion did sting the frog then they would both drown. So, the frog considered this and after a few moments, the frog agreed. The Scorpion climbed onto the frog’s back and away they went but partway across the river the frog felt a prick at the back of his head. The scorpion indeed stung the frog.” Vahalia tilted her head, “The lesson in the story is that while the scorpion, a vicious creature and hunter, might not have had the intention to sting and kill the frog, it did anyway. The scorpion could not avoid its nature even when it was resisting the urge to hurt someone else even when it wasn’t within their own interest.”

She turned towards Osric and frowned, “With that said, I only foresee three ways out of this. An annulment of the marriage due to irreconcilable differences. Living separately from one another with some details to hash out names, ownership of things, and land. And the third option while grievous to think about, is still an option and that is simply killing you.” instantly she waved her hand at the third notion, “Of course, the 3rd option is entirely drastic but also a very real possibility.”

It wasn’t the scar in the center of his chest - but something much deeper that ached as he stood, eerily calm. “No.”

No? Vahalia turned fully, slowly as she afforded Osric her full attention, even if venom sat nestled deep within the back of her throat, begging to be released as daggers that her eyes could not carry.

His darkened eyes focused on her, jaw clenched as the tension radiated off of him, “This was to be a partnership this was to be us working together, to move towards a common goal, and instead what I stepped into was you always being five steps ahead and I always trying to play catch up and trying to figure out what you wanted, what you were thinking. The communication was minimal at best - and that’s when you were here. And so I misstepped, or I would focus on the barracks - the one thing I did know needed to be completed.”

“It was supposed to be a partnership and it’s not. Not even at best being a minimal partnership. If you wanted clarification you should have asked. If you wanted a play-by-play on ideas, you could have asked. I’ve kept you abreast of the moving pieces every time the notion sprung to mind or the minute I found out about anything. Eventually, the Barracks will need to be completed, yes. Was there a timeframe for it? No. I thought it only right for you to see to the renovation of your family home as you saw fit but remember, you were the one who wanted to throw away everything for this partnership only for it to fail and I have made every strive to be what I had promised, mincing nothing. Leaving nothing to smoke, veils, or mirrors.”

“You were to take care of me and I was to take care of you, and yet here we are…you have the beginnings of your militia that you wanted, you’ve your completed barracks, you’ve your ships, your boosted coffers, your heirs on the way and now I am disposable…because the first three months didn’t go as planned? You would throw in the towel after three months? That’s not being strong-willed, Vahalia - that is being avoidant.”

“I have been taking care of you. I have tried at every turn to pry some semblance of drive, ambition, goal or strive from you to gauge where you are as a person. I’ve played more guessing games than I care to continue with. I have set you up for success where I could. Militia? I have one Knight. Barracks? Yes. My ships I’ve had before our marriage, save for one. Cress coffers have been full and well on their own without the necessary addition that belonged to House Slater. You would put this all on me as if I were using you now? As if none of this is anything I have acquired on my own without your help or anyone else's, none of it has ever been by some benefit from House Slater. You may bring a mount to water but you cannot make it drink and quite frankly I think I’ve given more of enough time into this disappointment.” her anger mounted and she motioned to her stomach, “But you really came through with your seed, just about the only thing that has gone according to plan.”

Red tinged Osric’s vision as he exhaled sharply. “Don’t twist my words any more than you want yours twisted, Vahalia. I know damn well the achievements you’ve made. Had you bothered to ask - the last several days have been spent recruiting to fill the completed barracks, so you do in fact have the beginnings of the militia you desired, and more than just the one knight.” His gaze narrowed, “I refuse to walk away from this, I refuse to walk away from my children and this family, this house - you think me weak, undeserving, expendable, like the rest of them then so be it - I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you all wrong if I must.”

“Had I bothered to ask, or had you bothered to say something? All of this has been news to me and I’ve been nowhere but right here, working, resting, trying to wrap my head around the situation on top of growing two additional beings into existence. Not one, two.” she then continued, “If that are the choice words for yourself to force down my throat, fine. I’ll play the villain, Osric. I was more than fine and quite prepared to be more than amicable and come to some understanding and solution. As I said, solutions are required and still you have yet to figure out how those work.” Vahalia’s grip under her bust tightened.

He barely resisted the urge to throw his hands up in frustration “You asked for time to yourself, which I have given you, part of the reason I came here tonight was to inform you - the staff knew where I was - I informed them. They knew the barracks were complete, I informed them. I speak and no one listens.” He reached up and ran a hand through his hair roughly. “My words? No - words of some of your kin. Carrera comes to mind. I'm not forcing anything down your throat, I’m not making you the villain, but if your only solution is to end things and walk away then that’s no solution at all.”

“Then consider me informed but you have no leg to stand on to hold it above my head for not knowing. Not a single staff member had said anything to me, not even your own, Wyland. But I suppose we’ll chalk that up to my staff being incapable, again, by your standards. I don’t care whose words they are but you’ve certainly lumped me in with them and make some serious accusations on top of the ones you made of Valeria four nights ago. I offered two solutions and I have yet to hear anything from you. I don’t want to be another three months or three years into this only to realize it was never going to work anyway and through it all, we just ended up wasting time.” she wanted to yell at him but she was far too exhausted to even try. Her hand lifted and placed on her forehead, “I wanted this conversation to be civil and productive to have an amicable end – whatever that might be or look like.”

“You took my sister’s eye for not being truthful, for not being honest Vahalia, and I stood by your decision. I did not doubt you. I did not throw it all away and toss it all aside. I acknowledged that she had indeed failed to behave in an appropriate manner.” His frustration flared. “Civil? Amicable? Was I just to roll over and accept that I was being disposed of? You tell me I’m lumping you in with these others, which I am not, and yet you sit here and say things with implications that you agree with them, Vahalia. What am I supposed to think?!”

“Since when was any of this about Edalene? It sounds to me like you have some residual stuff you need to work through if you’ve been hanging on to that to bring up. Funny enough you didn’t seem too worried about it when your cock was buried deep that night, hm?” Vahalia watched him, his flaring set of emotions seemingly going this way and that, “Once again putting words in my mouth. No one is disposing of you, you’re jumping to that conclusion. I agree with some things, yes but I’m quite capable of forming my own opinions and those are what I have already expressed.”

He took a deep breath, regaining a tenuous hold on his control. “I don’t want a godsdamned annulment. I don’t want to separate. I don’t believe the last three months are wasted time, I don’t think that they,” he pointed at her midsection, “-- are wasted time.”

“I never said anything about the children being a waste of time so I’m not sure you would imply that at all since it was never up for discussion.”

“What I have wanted…from the beginning of this, was for this house to succeed. The choices I have made, despite what some might think, have been to assist in that endeavor. I will never convince your cousin that I am deserving, I realize that you will never care for me, and that’s fine - but one month to prove that this is not a mistake, because I don’t believe that it is.”

Vahalia shook her head with her hand placed to the swell of her hip, “The House is and will succeed but it's bound to fail if one-half of the whole is found incapable of the obligations that the title of Lord requires. None of which you’ve measured up to in the sense of taking control when needed, putting your foot down, taking proactive steps without having to be told what to do, what goals to chase, or what ideas to foster; take some incentive. You’d rather sit here and preach about your sacrifices and other things that have no bearing on the conversation at hand and raise your voice but I still hear no solutions to anything I’ve expressed.”

He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Despite what you may think…I want Valeria to be happy, Vahalia. I was expressing a concern, not trying to disparage her character.”

“That may be so but you certainly did disparage her character and she wasn’t even present to defend herself properly. I dare not tell her either since I’m sure she’d be hurt by your thoughts on her. Make all the accusations and hateful statements you will of me but you won’t do that to my sister who has been nothing but kind, loving and generous.”

Would she even bother to hear? “Incapable, hm.” It could be added to the list of things used to describe him in recent weeks.

“One of the other things I was coming here to tell you was regarding a possible use for the seemingly pointless pile of artifacts that traveled with me from the former Slater estate. I, while the final inspections of the barracks were ongoing, did some looking into them and discovered that there was some value to them, as well as information about where to procure more. I have also inquired with local antique stores…and some on the black market for possible beginning prices and buyers.” His jaw clenched tightly for a moment. “But, I suspect, some of the items are cursed and could be used for other more personal means by some within the house.”

His gaze cut to her choker. “I’d intended to travel after the holiday…establish more connections, obtain more of the items off the list and do more research to discover what I could, what might be useful, what could be sold. I was not expecting this conversation.”

Dark blue eyes watched her for a long moment before he gave a tired exhale. “No - I won’t. And you don’t deserve it either. You may not care for me…but I do care for you…and I cannot walk away from this willingly, not now.”

Sighed as she listened to him, once again intentionally internalizing something and holding personally to keywords of phrases he’d later use as a slight against her. At this point, her exhaustion was mounting and the stress was evident with the fist she held at her side “You came to voice concerns and question my whereabouts, it hardly sounds like you were aiming to spring anything on me about business or personal finds. I’ll consider myself informed but that doesn’t change anything about this conversation now.” Osric did not intend the conversation he had gotten but he had been the one to pursue it from the moment he walked through the door; be it good or bad, it was a conversation he was looking to have nonetheless.

Hearing enough she moved for the door, she couldn’t look at him, not while feeling the fatigue in her bones and even in her words. Pointless in a way, he was to strung up in his feelings and slights by other people to see her any other way than against him and his enemy and despite asking twice or more, there had yet to be any offer of solutions and while Vahalia had been seemingly amicable to working something out to the problem in hand – he left her no choice.

And so she opted to remove herself from the situation. Dawn’s voice nagging in her ear about how she should avoid stressful situations altogether. She didn’t care about artifacts – especially when randomly brought up in a heated argument that was already going nowhere as if it would sway her in any capacity. To hells with the artifacts, to hells with anything else.

“Tend to your artifacts. Travel.” that is all she offered as she opened the door and passed the threshold. If he had no intention of leaving despite her expressing how she felt on several matters, she merely sustained the thought that she would remove herself instead, “What does it matter to me anyways? I don’t care.” she left him with since he had already made up his mind about her in several things even with her saying otherwise – it didn’t matter. She could have screamed it at the top of her lungs or rang it from the rooftops and it wouldn’t have mattered.

Her lips pursed and a look was offered to Osric before she finally turned to make her leave for the hall – there was nothing more she could say or offer and so if he wanted to linger in his pain, trauma, thoughts, and words then she would leave him to them.

He watched her go, the full gravity of the conversation hitting him as she turned for the hall, shoulders slumping as he ran a hand over his face.

Thoughts were spinning, light static buzzing in his ears as he walked out of the room, turning and walking in the opposite direction - he would give her her space - ignoring the creeping sensation up his spine as he moved down the hall trying to process, trying just to think.

He made his way to his chambers, managing not to slam the door behind him and sinking down onto the edge of the bed, allowing his head to fall into his hands, the entirety of the emotions of the last several weeks playing out in his mind. He ran his hands through his hair as he lifted his head, standing and walking over to his dresser, gently lifting the wolf-head pin…a gift from before the marriage had been made official, and gently trailed his fingers over the metal, the ache in his chest flaring once again.

Merry fucking Starlight

Collaborative Writing with @vahalia-cress-ffxiv

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carrera-ffxiv · 5 months

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WIT☾H

Plenty of socializing and merriment also brought in tow a wake of relaxation and calm. In the days following the Starlight event that had been hosted in the Cress manor in Ishgard, Vahalia had become quite recluse. She was taking her meals early and alone while also keeping within her quarters to wade through paperwork or building orders of the plethora of land, holdings, or spots she had under construction.

Dozens of moving parts and only one hand to create a pen stroke to nudge the parts into action.

Three months ago she had signed her name to documents to finalize a marriage she had thought to be good, a partnership in every sense of the word. She had bought into the prospects of solidarity and companionship, a ruthless pair to attack and face hurdles and challenges together and to have someone of equal standing to her own to be able and lead the House in their goals, forever finding higher and higher destinations to reach. Ambitions to follow and chase after – yet she had still been the only one in that race and as days waned in tandem with unfavorable circumstances and situations – Vahalia was finding herself in a race of just one.

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carrera-ffxiv · 6 months

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Happy Starlight!

She skipped and danced along the stone steps of Ishgard, twirling a dark umbrella in hand tainted a sanguine hue. The snow that graced her skin was indistinguishable from the fair tones, only her face clearly visible. Her dark hair flowed down one side of her visage; she wore a raven gown and a black coat with fur for trim. The tiny woman seemed unassuming, at least in Ishgard. She seemed happy and beaming with energy. An odd sight for one who may have seen her before, as was the situation with Damien.

The details regarding his trip to Valnain were still being secured. Obtaining a guide that knew the area and was Viera was more difficult than one could have predicted. Alain had left the frozen lands to venture farther south in hopes of securing someone who could assist them. Damien’s purpose in Ishgard was to get additional supplies that they had needed and attempt to bridge some sort of truce between himself and Cordelia. It was, perhaps, a stretch but he had wanted for her nose to be as far out of his business as he could possibly imagine. The only way he could do that was to coax her into some sort of false sense of security.

The large leather jacket he wore was lined on the inside with thick fur to provide suitable warmth and he wore wool gloves to prevent his hands from exposure to the elements. His honey hues caught the slightly familiar figure out of the corner of his gaze as he examined various produce items at one of the stalls in the market. His frame had shifted so he could obtain a better look at the woman. “Lady Blackheart,” he greeted with a raised brow. Her demeanor was certainly different than what he could recall at Vahalia’s dinner party.

“Oh Damien! Perfect timing~” she sang off, moving to clutch his arm; there was a slightly uncomfortable clearing of his throat as she took hold. “I know I was a little mean when we first met but now I hear you have eyes for my cousin! How endearing! I’ve recently had reason to mull over and realize that I don’t -have- to be enemies with my cousin’s lovers. As such, I’ve brought a gift. Several in fact!” A pink hue kissed her fair cheeks from the cold, she would tug him away from the market toward the Foundation. “Oh, and Vahalia sends her well-wishes. Come on~” she would whine at him, an almost feminine, vulnerable, and strangely lucid disposition smiling at him.

His jaw had clenched and his visage displayed a stoic reprieve to his previously curious look. “Endearing,” he’d murmur in his response with a slight roll to his golden eyes. “I wasn’t aware that we were enemies in the first place, Lady Blackheart, and your cousin and I are not lovers.” His tone was flat as he offered her the correction. While the first part of her words was arguably true, the latter was a bit of a reach. There was a moment of hesitation as Carrera attempted to lure him farther away from the market and he halted in a statuesque manner. “I’ve no need for gifts.”

Carrera would swing in front of him, “Oh, come, come Damien. Let me present you with the gifts and what you do with them is entirely up to you. You could… take them yourself, or let me dispose of them. Whatever is convenient for you. Or did you prefer the whole path of being enemies? Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be glad to learn what the surprise entails, if nothing else. Did you prefer your women to beg? Mayhap we have that in common?” She beamed a smile at him.

A steadied breath was drawn into slightly parted lips as Carrera continued to beckon him. His eyes did avert at her portion regarding making enemies but Damien simply cleared his throat to recenter himself and took a step in her direction. In truth, the less enemies he had around right now the better. He was well positioned in the idea that Valeria would never directly cause him harm, but he seemed to have a consistent awareness of Vahalia’s duty to protect her family at whatever cost that entailed. Damien wasn’t about to find himself on the end of her ire because of a squabble with her cousin. “Very well, Lady Blackheart,” he offered in a cordial response.

She clapped happily, giddy with excitement, “Perfect, perfect! Come, come.” The lady in black would drag Damien along the Vigil and into the Foundation- strangely a pleasant walk with a striking view only Ishgard could offer, and through it all Carrera almost appeared… normal. Almost.. All seemed fine and well until they started approaching the gates that led to the Steps of Faith; she would take a sharp turn with the Gray man in tow. “Not much longer now. Have you often been down with the ne’er-do-wells and the peasants that don’t live in lofty manors? Such interesting people.”

There was a bit of uncertainty as she led him away from the market area. One of his free hands had casually moved to feel for the hilt of the modest dagger at his waist to confirm that it was still on his person before he released a held breath. “I don’t live within the city, Lady Blackheart, so I can’t say that I make much time here regularly.” He’d shrug slightly to himself after he had finished speaking. There was a brief pause as Damien sighed rather loudly and slightly put an emphasis in slowing his pace. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Oh, really? Is the Gray estate not within Ishgard? I had assumed as much. Shows how much I know.” she gave light shrug, “But then, I wasn’t commissioned to look into you.” Her mismatched eyes met his, a golden hue, and another with an aetheric blue peered into him. “Are you concerned Damien? Can I call you that? Please, call me Carrera. Don’t worry, you won’t have need for your dagger just yet, I wouldn’t let anyone harm a hair on your head! At least until you leave my sight. Just a little further into the Brume. There aren’t pesky Temple Knights or clergy around to bother us.”

“The Gray estate, the one that Cordelia occupies is within Ishgard,” he replied flatly. “Mine, however, is not.” There were few within Ishgard’s nobility who knew exactly where Damien resided. He preferred to leave them with the knowledge that he regularly flitted around and never stayed in one place for too long. The few that did know knew that Ambrose had purchased a modest manor in the Western Highlands for Damien shortly after Ambrose’s marriage to Cordelia. “You may call me Damien,” he exhaled. His patience was beginning to falter. “I’m struggling to find the reasoning for this.”

The apprehension was apparent on his face as they they had approached the stone building that looked as if it had seen better days. All pretense immediately dropped as her smile faded away. “Business. That’s the reason for this.” Her voice was now terse, a fleeting reminiscence of his sister-in-law’s. A wind and a turn down the stone path, bricks both beside and below damaged and cracked from decades of conflict; they stopped in front of a wooden door, by which a homeless woman sat. Carrera leaned in graceful fashion toward the woman. Did she say something? Did she give the person something? His lips pursed into a thin line as honey hues observed the interaction. “Come, come.” she waved him into the room, practically dancing with excitement now.

The sight that followed was in equal measure jarring and unnerving. A spark of anxiety would creep into anyone surprised with the sight: Five people in smallclothes strung up by their necks, whimpering and whining as their life dwindled-- they struggled to keep alive as the very tip of their toes found a measure of purchase on a stool below each of them. What looked like wheat sacks were over all their heads. Two ruffians stood on either side of the room, looking just as homeless and disheveled as the woman outside; their countenance however, betrayed their appearance: Observing, calm and still. Clearly this was not an unfamiliar sight for them and they watched with care and poise as the two guests of honor entered the room. They were met with two deep bows.

Desperate crying, whimpering and the creaking of wooden stools hung in the air until Carrera’s voice broke the silence. “Happy Starlight!” she squeed with excitement.

He was unsure of what had taken place though Carrera’s demeanor had piped up and that had only given Damien more cause for concern. The visual before him had caused his jaw to square as he exhaled slowly. “This your idea of a present?” He asked flatly.

His golden hues had happened over the strewn up bodies once more. The creaking of the chairs and their whimpering behind gags hadn’t caused as much as an effect as one would’ve assumed with the man. He’d seen his fair share of injuries and people that didn’t pay their bets and debts with the races found similar fates. “What’re we doing here, Carrera?”

“These men were hired to follow you and report on you… and they did! Where you go, what you do~ Whoever you spend time with. I thought I’d give you the honor of first blood.”

Damien inhaled deeply, his gaze narrowed at Carrera for a moment before he stepped forward. His thick leather boot would carefully press at the leg of one of the chairs though not enough to move it. “Who hired them?” He asked as he turned to face her.

She spoke with a smug grin. “One Ricard Blythe. I thought this would send a nice message that his …advances are not welcomed. Though, to be frank, it wasn’t all my idea. The execution, perhaps, but the request to handle this was from another.”

“Who made the request?” Damien quipped with a raised brow. His arms move to fold over his chest as he took a step back from the chairs to pace between them idly. “If I recall from the dinner, you don’t travel this way often so it’s clear that this is more than simple work to you.”

“I don’t often speak on who commissions me for my art. You know how it is. But you’re a smart man, I don’t often take requests personally, and handle them myself. I’m sure you could imagine there are few that could motivate me so. Few that would be rather annoyed if they found out that, during your outings, they made mention of Valeria.”

The connecting of the dots was, perhaps, but he preferred to hear it spoken by Carrera. He already knew that Ricard Blythe had reported to Vahalia that he and Valeria were seen in Tailfeather and at the Starlight Gala, Ricard hadn’t denied his involvement in such reportings. “I presume you were made aware that Valeria was previously betrothed to Blythe?” His tone seemed to be rather amused by the notion as he feigned a slight chuckle. “I’ve yet to discern whether he’s a jealous man or that his intentions run deeper than this.” He sighed. “I also presume that you didn’t anticipate this merely being a quick hanging to prove your point?”

“Well, luckily for him, he was betrothed. Only out of sparing my dearest cousin Valeria more heartache is why he still breathes. And as for them, I had thought you might lose your nerve and I’d end up cleaning up the mess.” She teased in a tone both teasing and grim. “I care not for their fates, just that a message is sent. There’s still more associates in his little network and they will be rooted out.

I intended on cutting out their tongues as a gift for the client and eyes as a gift for Ricard. I’m very considerate, you see.” The hostages whined and shifted frantically. One accidentally knocked over their stool and began choking. She paid it no mind, gaze still locked on Damien’s. She seemed proud of herself-- as if somewhere in that mind of hers, she was being genuinely thoughtful to others. Hers was an innocent demeanor without context, but within, it was broken and murderous.

His golden hues exuded a particular warmth when the Hyur looked at someone, but in this instance the warmth felt anything but inviting. He remained fixated on Carrera as the whimpering progressed and the sounds of one of the men on his way to meeting his demise could be heard. After several seconds of silence, Damien turned to one of the large men that stood near the chairs. “Get him back up on it,” he urged with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Carrera nodded and the man complied. Damien paused for a moment before his fingertips reached for the tailored coat he wore and quickly removed it from his shoulders to discard it off to the side. “In many instances, I would’ve just been keen on letting them hang and you collecting whatever mementos you’d like but,” he’d pause as he began to roll up the sleeves of a meticulously tailored shirt. “Valeria has been quite impacted by the actions of Mr. Blythe and I intend to settle that score as best I can with the gift you’ve provided.”

She blinked, pursed her lips, and canted her head, “Should I take their eyes and tongues now? I need receipts. I mean, if you need them to talk I suppose I could just take some fingers or something.”

“Which one has obtained the most information on my whereabouts? Including those with Valeria?”

Carrera sighed, slightly annoyed. “The one you just saved apparently saw the events. But they all worked together as a team, in shifts, specifically watching you. Must be nice to be so popular!”

Damien nodded as he hummed to himself. A hand moved to gently tap at his chin. “You seem to be in quite the rush, Lady Blackheart. Here I thought your demeanor gave way to you enjoying these types of engagements.”

“I like having fun! But I just need to make sure the job is done. If I leave them in your charge you might go soft and let them run away! It’d be too embarrassing.” she replied in a whiny tone and puffed her cheeks.

He’d sigh briskly before he approached the man that had been resituated atop the chair. In a rare occurrence, Damien had to cant his neck to look upwards at the man. “You reported that I disrespected Lady Valeria’s honor in that stable, no?” Clearly there was no chance for the man to answer as Damien turned to face Carrera once more. “I want him to watch himself lose his cock and balls and then I want him flayed. Preferably alive and conscious.”

“I can do that! I mean, or you can take that one. But just one. The rest I need to make sure a message is sent. The more parts the better!” she nodded sagely.

“We’ll save this one for last then,” Damien remarked with a nod as he reached to remove the dagger from the sheath at his waist. “Feel free to send your message,” he’d gesture with his freehand towards the men whose whimpering now began to sound more like the anxious squealing of pigs before slaughter.

“Oh! Oh, you want to do it here, right now? I thought you’d get squeamish and I’d have to kick the stools out one by one! Okay. I can work with this. Get my tools for him!” she’d demand. A small duffel bag was dropped beside Damien, consisting of cloth packaging revealing cleanly kept surgical instruments.

“Why would we wait?” Damien asked with a half shrug as he stepped forward. There was an obvious flare to his nostrils as he sucked in a heavy breath. He approached the man next to the one identified as the Tailfeather rat and reached upwards to grab the rope so that he could begin to cut it. The man, knowing that his end was imminent, began to flail and squeal uncontrollably; the motions didn’t seem to phase Damien. Perhaps he’d compared it to the slaughter of an animal; Something he had been familiar with on more than one occasion. When the rope had been cut, he stepped back to allow the body to topple to the floor with a loud thud.

The knife was quickly tucked into his leather belt as he reached forward to grab the end of the rope and pulled it tight and his other hand removed the gag and then clenched firmly over the man’s nose to force his mouth open. “There would be more satisfaction out of taking the eyes first, but this way no one will hear them scream.” His voice was musing, considerate even as he glanced up at her with somewhat of a smile.

Her visage shifted from the hostage to Damien again, looking content-- “Happy Starlight.” she beamed with a warm grin.

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carrera-ffxiv · 6 months

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Pittance

The price of business was heavy, even more so when one aimed to protect they had. There was no end to sacrifices made though some could never truly see them. Some would never know the true depth of refusing to admit failure or defeat, even if it meant committing crimes in the process. A means to an end and time wasn’t something Vahalia sought to give out freely.

She never enjoyed people infringing upon her time and dedication, and in the stretch of a few weeks she had found both to be nearly trod on – especially by those she wished wouldn’t. Her business with family had made her wonder if there was more one was seeking but didn’t bother to speak in earnest about. Just how many weeks or months would pass before there were familiar boots at her door asking for her sister’s hand?

Would it be demanded?

How would she handle it – better yet would she allow Valeria to handle it herself?

How long before news came and pricked her ears about Carrera’s job done – failure could not be suffered. Vahalia found herself skirting the delicate line between business and personal dealings, making sure to only flirt with Cordelia’s dealings and never outwardly crossing that fragile line which would leave Cordelia with the impression that Vahalia could not be trusted, or worse, the two getting wrapped up in a quarrel over Cordelia’s hatred for Damien Gray and Vahalia’s hatred for Ricard Blythe. They were far too in over their heads now and Vahalia merely seen this as just another business transaction even if it happened to undo things Cordelia was paying Blythe for. Blythe’s failure in procuring a task for Cordelia was not Vahalia’s problem.

At least not yet.

Lacquered nails touched at the deep onyx that sat nestled at the slope of her throat, the facets felt cool to the touch despite how much time Vahalia had fussed with the trinket, eyes staring out into the darkness of the courtyard. A pale light flickered here and there as the lamplighters made their way through the streets.

“𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤.” the chilling voice wracked at the back of her ears. Familiar in tone, felt in depth. Vahalia didn’t need to look to know Creature loomed ever near over her shoulder.

Keep reading

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carrera-ffxiv · 6 months

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DWC Day 2- November 2023 - Success/Sin

Clearly defined objectives.

For a majority of his life the goals had been laid out before him, whether he wanted them to be or not.

As a child - remain quiet and in the background. Do NOT ask questions or draw attention to yourself.

As a young adult and the new head of the house - maintain the House. Keep it running and make sure it will be able to run should something happen to you (expect that something will happen to you). Make sure that your sister will be able to step in and take over as she will ultimately be the one overseeing things in your absence.

As a dragoon - do not question your orders. Remove the heretics. Be prepared to sacrifice yourself for the greater good, as is expected of one in your position. Do not question your superiors. Do not question the church doctrine.

Success had been so clearly defined and yet so difficult to achieve each time.

Osric pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed the file he’d been holding and set it aside pushing himself up off the couch and taking a moment to stretch before walking a short lap around the library of the Cress Estate.

The ‘success of the House’ - that had been what his goal was when he had entered into this arrangement. That, and the abolition of his own house in the process. But now that the merger was complete, the definition of what ‘success’ felt like it was a moving target, and like he needed to change in order to be able to hit it.

Undeserving - that’s what Carrera had called him. Said he was undeserving of Vahalia, and didn’t deserve to be related to Valeria via marriage either.

He stopped walking in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped loosely behind his back for a moment. He couldn’t, nor did he have any interest in trying to convince Carrera that he was worthy of Vahalia - he didn’t think the woman would listen to anything he had to say anyway, half the time she barely remembered his name - but he had his pride, and he could damn well see through and make sure that House Cress succeeded - whatever that needed to mean.

And whatever that meant he needed to become and whatever sins he needed to commit…so be it.

@daily-writing-challenge

Mentions: @vahalia-cress-ffxiv, @spirit-speaking, @carrera-ffxiv

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carrera-ffxiv · 7 months

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#Screenies

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carrera-ffxiv · 1 year

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carrera-ffxiv · 1 year

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Reconciliation Pt. 2

The sweltering heat hit her like a wall of hot bricks as her skin tickled and sweat trickled. Her steel prison loosed a heavy clang while it settled within the bed of a wagon now cautiously laden with hastily carved anti-magic runes. She wasn’t the only passenger, it seemed, as one of the crates stacked next to sounded something akin to a hiss and another, a growl.

Her hand moved to shield her from the unforgiving rays that seethed against her flesh. She managed to fight past the blinding light and probable concussion to spy upon the area. Sand, brightly colored shops and various tapestries decorated the settlement they wound up in.

Thavnair. She rasped silently since the words would not escape her parched throat and dry lips. It had to be-- the familiar scorching and unforgiving humidity, and more than that, the familiarity of it all as her irritation spiked made her all the more certain. It was less the precarious situation she was in and more the weather that triggered a feral anxiety and discomfort within. If not for the wad of cloth tied into her gob Vahalia certainly would have made a scene; certainly she would have liked nothing more than to let loose her fury and drown her foes in their own blood with no sense for her own regard. Her ire built moment by moment against a dam of rage that threatened to bleed out of her chest could she do nothing else. She wanted nothing more than everyone within half a malm to be choking on their own ichor as she eviscerated the lot of them; if nothing else, kicking and screaming as she went down trying.

One of her captors muttered something to the other as they motioned toward what appeared to be a map. As quickly Vahalia’s focus was drawn, it was smothered by a large tarp cast over the wagon. Her opportunity was snuffed out before she could even garner a proper glimpse at it. Her consciousness waned in and out; she felt movement and bumps along the rough road and she was not accustomed to this level of discomfort. The weather seemed to sap her strength and the limited reprieve from the unmitigated sunlight gave her a measure of comfort, just enough to give into the claws of fatigue that cradled the mage.

She might have wished for a pleasant dream if she could but she couldn’t afford the thought. Multiple times she used sheer willpower to break from the overwhelming lethargy that kept dragging her away. Morbid images of family flashed in her mind again and again until she was rattled out of her sleep, her own claws reacting as she was picked up, a stern yet gentle hand instantly grasping and breaking her sleepy, vengeful rebellion.

“Careful, little lioness.” A voice chided lightly with a Hingan accent prior to a stern follow-up in a different direction, “Go peddle your wares and leave my sight. I would thank you for a job well done but for now not killing all of you for your sheer ineptitude will have to suffice as my gratitude.” a voice dryly chastised others nearby.

She didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability but she had nary the strength to resist. Her intuition inclined her to let the events flow; she took in the more comforting and bearable clime as she was carried off in some manner of bridal carry indicating a measure of care. The truth was that she was too tired to lash out and the seething river of hate within her had been stilled by drowsiness and apathy.

Water.

Cold, refreshing water quenched her unbearable thirst as her talons reached around the cup. She coughed up as she continued drinking voraciously.

“Easy now.” the same voice from earlier offered in a soothing tone.

Vahalia’s eyes shot open and her golden hues found their mark as a dozen contingencies ran through her mind in that quick second on how she should act. She opted for ripping the cup out of the person’s hand and tearing away.

A pleasant albeit entertained chuckle escaped as the person brought up both their hands and moved away, he walked around the table to the other side, seating himself as Vahalia’s eyes followed like a snake hunting prey.

“I mean you no harm, drink. Somei-chan, she is probably going to want more water.” he gestured to an attendant not far off.

Little Lioness, he had called her. Hmph. A statement wrapped in hubris-- he was pretty little himself: A doman adolescent from what she could tell in simple but expensive formal-wear, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a tie loosened from the collar. It reminded her of perhaps a younger Hadriel with a softer gaze from both eyes and a gentler disposition.

From the side of Vahalia a small statured woman moved; a Raen dressed in pastel colors adorned with silks bearing a floral pattern looked quite meek with the way she subtly smiled at Vahalia, water at the ready. Despite being stubborn Vahalia eventually gave in to the assistance.

The young man gestured to the table, “There is some fruit if you would like to eat, or I hear they can prepare a variety of food here. I am not one for Thavnairian cuisine yet I am not one to deny my guests. I would have had them prepare a spread earlier yet I had arrived just recently.”

“...I’m a guest?” Vahalia spoke, her hands lifting to indicate the heavy manacles around her wrists and once more Somei hovered by with the water and even trying to offer some sliver of the fruit that had been offered by the gentleman, only for it to be slapped away by the back of Vahalia’s knuckles.

Of course she wasn’t going to eat! She had been prisoner for a slew of days. Dragged from one place to the next without any real warning; bargaining chip turned goods.

While Somei huffed out gently and busied herself with trying to find the fallen fruit, Vahalia mustered the energy still to glare across the table, “Who are you?”

He gestured toward her restraints, “Just a precaution, I am sure you understand. Especially after I have heard of what you did. A scary story for one whose aim is just to do business, you would agree, yes? You need not worry about those boorish folk anymore. My name is Shiro. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

A scoffed followed, “I assume you haven’t the charity in you to release me then?” Vahalia lifted a hand to inspect her wrist and the steel that had kept her in check, “Shiro.” she followed up with, “I’ve been privy to enough of their conversations on and off. How much was I worth then?” her other hand had reached for the cup of water nearby Somei had abandoned to the table since she had gone on the hunt for the flung fruit on the floor. She wasn’t even afforded a glance as Vahalia drank down the semi-cool liquid.

“You think I put a price on your life? What I paid for was the mere pleasure of your company and what that may entail. But as with all things, change is… ah, what is the term? Afoot. No, I do not wish for you to be killed, or be a slave or object to be traded. But, the question of your value-- that is a good question.” He gave a welcoming smile, “Until recently I thought you a sorceress who dabbled in business; It seems there is more to the eye, no?” he paused and corrected himself, “Oh, excuse me, more than meets the eye.”

The empty cup touched the table. “Anyone worth their salt would take advantage of something if it benefited them and it fell into their lap. I would, perhaps not this very same situation but it’s easy to put a price on someone’s life if it’s not your own or you don’t know them.” Vahalia’s lips twitched, a dryness to them and they pulled to her cheek in a taut manner, enough to form a dimple, “You are not mistaken. I dabble in business, a Mage by trade.”

“Good, good. One can never befriend too many powerful mages. Perhaps it runs in your blood? Your cousin is especially powerful, it is truly a joy to see her weave her black magicks to tear apart her opponents. I even heard tell of your sister dabbling in necromancy to the misfortune of wandering rodents. Now that I hear you have garnered some control over the creature that Carrera could not, I cannot help but be excited to humbly be in your presence.”

“You seem to have quite the handle on my family for someone I’ve never met.” a tone in her words. Slowly her eyes narrowed and her finger happened to trace the side of her empty cup, Somei nearby even managing to make a stop once more to refill the piece from the pitcher, “Carrera has goals? You seem apprised of them more than myself.”

“I would say something witty about madness and power being two sides of the same coin but I cannot fathom what goes on in that whimsical head of hers, much less guess at her whims. Though I am always interested in my allies and their associates, I find myself losing more day by day. I was hoping we could be friends. I will not lie and pretend to be a good man, or pretend that this was the goal in such an insistent invitation, but as I said before, plans change as information changes.”

“It so happens I’m not in the market for friends. I have no use for them and I’ve had more than enough of my fill of people coming out from the woodworks wanting something or another from me. So what do I have to do to earn my freedom?”

“Well, I am offering you a seat at my table if you wish. Once there were ten of us who kept the balance from Southern Othard across the Ruby Seas to Hingashi. From behind the veil, of course.” “You’ll have to be a little more clear in what your table looks like and what balance looks like to you. I’m already hired by another, if it’s my skills you are looking for then know I call in on debts owed to me without warning.” honey colored eyes roved over the one they currently sat at. Less than impressive but certainly she knew better than to consider this the table he had meant.

“Well, it is a family of sorts. Each person selected for their influence, leadership, or power, if nothing else but to expand our own. With you, we can reach into Coerthas. But before you even consider a choice, know that it is typically only possible when you take the seat of another by means you choose; It is perhaps fortune that we find each other now because there are seats recently vacant.”

“And what does your reach into Coerthas entail exactly? Rummaging through hot gossip to write back and forth about like secret pen-pals?” her lips twitched faintly, her eyes unblinking. For as awful as she felt internally she certainly didn’t lose her snap.

The man clapped, obviously entertained, "Ahahaha, Lady Cress, no one told me you are a comedian! Very enjoyable. But, allow me to answer your question: it involves the worst kind of work. Ensuring your allies thrive and your enemies do not survive. That includes in trade, politics, information, anything that is beneficial to you, or by extension, us, is a worthy act. As long as the benefits outweigh the risk. Foolish bravado profits a man nothing. But this is all premature talk, you have yet to agree for me to divulge more information. And there is a condition for your joining. If you do, you will have the full information network and businesses of your employer Hadriel Isenhart, and more."

A well sculpted brow rose and judging by the look on her face, Vahalia wasn’t one for theatrics, “I have no enemies save for the past few days when I’m sure in due time I’ll get my vengeance. That is of course if someone doesn’t beat me to the punch.” her nail tapped along the table they sat at, “By extension as it is, I see myself already in the midst of Hadriel’s network, I know all I need to do is ask and he’d see it done if there is something I require and it is within his scope. Why do you think you’d have anything better to offer? A seat laced with conditions? I rather liked the seat I was sitting in before I was plucked from it.”

“Well,” he canted his head, “You would not have to go through him anymore. Power, autonomy, vengeance? I would have figured those are things that draw you. Ask, and those imbeciles that overbearingly misunderstood my request for the treatment of my guest will be removed. I was contemplating it anyway.”

“They work for you?”

“Contracted. Through some group named Chimaera if I recall? I have no love for them nor their lack of professionalism. It was just a transaction of opportunity.”

“This being the opportunity? It seems excessive. What is your condition?”

“Help me kill Hadriel. Ah, speak of the devil…” his blue eyes glowed for a moment as they shifted to the assistant, “If you would get the door, Somei-san.” His attention turned back to Vahalia as he moved over to her, sitting on the table right beside her, “That was the point of all this. I could do without your help, but I also wanted to give you an offer. What is your answer?” He moved to unlock her restraints and he was met with a cry chuckle from the Ishgardian woman. “All that for a seat?”

Slow, methodical, and clearly audible taps came to the door as Somei made her way over as instructed and she opened the door a crack, soft green eyes blinking upward to the stranger as she did.

“Well, the seat is more metaphorical. There are literal seats as well.” Shiro answered casually.

Hadriel gave the woman a once-over before giving an annoyed grin, handing over an invitation from Shiro himself. He looked mildly discomforted as he adjusted his tie and cuffs, small spatters of blood along his collar and jacket didn’t escape her notice.

“[Excuse me.]” he uttered in a Doman tongue, his hand now weighing heavily on the door. Somei shuffled to the side with the invitation in hand, opening the door wide allowing the gentleman inside. He continued, “[You summoned me? I guess it’s about time we finished this. I had thought maybe you got the message.]”

Shiro held a hand up toward Hadriel, “[One moment, I’m still having a conversation]”. Half-lidded eyes landed on Vahalia, “So, is that your answer?”

“I would have to respectfully, and not so regrettably, decline your offer.” Vahalia rubbed at one of her wrists and aimed to rise from the chair after being freed, “The water was appreciated.” Whatever expression she held, flattened and she finally caught sight of Hadriel.

“Ah. That is quite unfortunate. I was hoping to spare your sister and convince her to join us as well. But, [here Hadriel, have a seat.]” he shrugged and pushed Halia to the side, kicking the chair she was sitting on toward Hadriel at blinding speed.

Reflexes saved her from a quick tumble and Vahalia’s hand caught the edge of the table just a few feet from Shiro’s outburst towards Hadriel, Somei jumping away from the door to take to the other side of the room. Dodged by a hair’s breadth Hadriel made his way forward, swinging his blade from the sheath in an attempt to decapitate Shiro.

The other caught the blade in both his palms and kicked back toward Vahalia, “Too bad, now both you and your sister will die.”

She had taken the blow, attention completely garnered towards Hadriel who had taken his weapon to strike at her captor, “So much for kind hospitality. You men are all the same.” She rasped, watching Hadriel a moment, hand to her stomach where she had been struck; her attention shifted sidelong to Somei who seemed to be keeping her distance for the time being. Without strength, rapier or foci, she would have to at least contribute and play her role in getting the fuck outta here – Hadriel in tow if he lived. Vahalia reached for the heavy manacles from the table, jerking them away and into her possession.

“Wait-- what do you mean men are all the same?” Hadriel asked, twisting and yanking his sword with deft movement out of Shiro’s grasp. “Get out of here. Take the pink haired girl with you.”

The other released the blade ere his hands were sliced, “Yes, that is a good question.” “Offering something until a woman says, no then you tantrum. Like whiny man-babies the lot of you!” Vahalia huffed.

There was a momentary pause before they reengaged in combat and Somei began to dart away at the mention of being taken but not before Vahalia grabbed her by the shoulder, jerked her away from fleeing and clasped one side of the manacle down along the woman’s wrist and shackling the unknown Au Ra to her grasp. The small Raen woman tugged and pulled and even in Vahalia’s weakened state was able to drag the woman from the stairs where she had been going for and towards the door.

At some point, Shiro had drawn his own katana and the sound of metal singing through the air, as harsh clangs reverberated, echoed down the hall as Halia escaped. She grabbed the other’s shackled hand with her own as if holding hands-- she pulled one of her lengthy hair pins with a free hand to hold it against Somei’s ribs. “Walk, quietly, draw any attention and I’ll be dragging your corpse by the shackle.”

Collab writing: @hadriel-ffxiv

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carrera-ffxiv · 2 years

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Reconciliation Pt. 1

*Clink…clack…clink…clack...clink…*

Hadriel leaned on the desk, consumed by thoughts while absentmindedly playing with his lighter, flicking it open and closed.

*Clack*

An older man approached with some folders, placing them on the desk for him to review, “Sorry for the wait, ser.” In reality, it hadn’t been long and the only cue he had to bring the information was that he happened to by sheer chance notice Hadriel going into his office. Still, this was what Hadriel had expected.

“Good work, Gunther.” he mused through the files. “Is it what we assumed?”

He poured Hadriel a drink from a decanter nearby, “Yes, ser.” he responded as the other sifted through dossiers and various notes.

“Oh. These geniuses.” he breathed out, venomous sarcasm seething through.

“Yes, they are strangely avoiding pseudonyms and using their actual names. I thought it odd, but read on if you would.” he went about with practiced and professional movement, focused on form and etiquette.

The clinking of the lighter began again.

“You seem displeased, ser.”

“Hmn. I thought my face rather indifferent.”

“More the way you’re fidgeting with your lighter, ser.”

“It’s just a few…agitations and lingering thoughts.” Hadriel tapped on the letter on the table, the initial one addressed to him apprising him of the situation. “Everything was suspicious from the get-go.” He downed the glass of whiskey in one motion.

“Here I thought all was well and in quick motion to be solved, ser. Madam Wolff had that young fellow interviewing all the staff. I’ve reached out to the people you’ve instructed as well.”

“I have a good idea of where this is all stemming from, and leading.” He showed Gunther a picture from the stack. “Ammunition isn’t hard to come by and not our most valuable asset by far. There’s more effective ways to sabotage our airships or walk away with some money. This was a little message and they left messy chunks of breadcrumbs for us to follow. It seems they’ve snagged my assistant as well, all just to get our attention.”

“Ah I believe Mr. Belgrave was thinking along the same lines of how obvious this all was; I believe he is ahead on the trail, though I daresay he is familiar with the road and not the destination. Figuratively speaking.”

“We’ll end up on different paths anyway. What happens to the organization they hired doesn’t matter to me, if he hunts them down, all the better. Two birds with one stone, and all that. Or is it two birds with two stones if we’re both hunting different birds? Hm, I wonder how Nijah would feel if I handled this without getting her involved.”

“A matter of trust, ser?”

“Not really. I just don’t want her to deal with these people again. Consider it a professional courtesy. Mn, anyway, is the doctor in?”

“Why, I do believe she’s just come in to start the day not long ago. If you’ll allow me a moment to verif-”

“No need, I’ll go. Thank you for the assistance.” he finished tucking his lighter and a couple documents into his blazer before adjusting his gloves and tie.

“It is my pleasure, ser. As always, please let us know if you need anything.”

It was certainly agitating. Being bothered by mid-tier thieves and kidnappers was one thing, the fact that they had enough intel to do so was another. Coupled with the fact that they barely bothered to keep their identities muddled only meant that they were instructed to be found. Threads, both literal and figurative, leading in a specific direction for them to follow. And just in case they couldn’t put two and two together, they sold the items which were inventoried by lot number on a public market to leave another trail.

“Oh, one last thing before you leave ser, there was an incident in the markets. One of the vendors whom the goods were sold to were, well, retired.”

Hadriel’s brow twitched as he glanced back with his exposed eye. “One of ours?”

“The vendor was not one of our contacts but the man who did the deed was Mr. Blythe.”

“Mn. Unfortunate. Luckily we don’t need the merchant as a lead but, they probably didn’t know much anyway. Let’s arrange a third party to send them some consolation in the form of gil and help encourage them to move on from the unfortunate loss. Keep the linkpearl on just in case the other contacts stumble across anything else.”

Hadriel made his way out while Gunther bowed respectfully; the urge to smoke crawled up his chest and into his throat, triggering his agitation further as it clouded his mind. He took a few deep breaths to try to focus as he knocked on the entrance to the clinic.

“Is the doctor in?” he asked with a crooked smirk as a short blonde looked up to him wearing something resembling a white lab coat, both hands on a cup of coffee that was probably a bit too large for her.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! About time, you’re late for your appointment.” She beamed a smile at him.

“Sorry about that. Had some business to deal with, do you have what I asked for.”

“Straight to the point, huh? At least come in and sit down. Did you want some coffee?”

Taking the seat across from her desk he reached into pockets for something, “Sure.”

Dawn went to pouring another cup after setting hers down. It was a normal sized cup this time.

“Thanks.” she handed him the cup and the scent of whiskey permeated from the flask when he poured. She simply frowned, “You should really stop.”

“One thing at a time doc. Count yourself lucky I’m not smoking in your clinic.”

She poked her head out the clinic and looked around carefully before turning back to him, “You know, it’s not too late. You might be able to make something of a recovery if you stop now.”

“Might be. I’m working on it. Enough about me, how’re you doing?”

“Deflecting like usual?” a melancholic sigh escaped her.

“Is Nijah around?”

She shook her head in response.

Hadriel continued, “Undoubtedly out and about orchestrating things. Wonder if she hates me for the job yet.” he mused and chuckled.

“Well even if she does, I appreciate it. I get to see her home on most days. That’s more than I could ever ask for.” she paused for a minute and sipped at her coffee, “So…”

“So?”

“There’s been a lot of hustle and bustle, interviews with the staff and rumors of missing stuff in the company. Nijah seems busier lately. You have anything to do with it?”

“A little bit, not much, I promise. I wouldn’t keep your dear Nijah away from you lest I’d merit your ire.”

She pursed her lips a moment before pulling out a container with some pills, “You’re not wrong.” she wanted to give him a smile but couldn’t bring it out, “This should last you a little while. Slow down the effects.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dawn. I’ve had time to look back on things and while I might’ve been cavalier about my health before I intend on sticking around for a while longer yet. Want to watch little Rihn grow up. And don’t want to leave Mira alone. Got something to live for, for the first time in a long time. Just took me longer than most to figure that out.”

“Good! That’s the stuff I like to hear.” She moved to sit on the desk by his chair before handing him the pills, “Ever since I was able to integrate her soul and memories, things have gotten better for me. My eyes have healed properly and I can use them the way I was supposed to. One of them was hers after all.” She took off her necklace and handed it to him, an empty crystal pendant void of aether hung off of it. The crystal of a dark knight. “And since then I’ve thought of you as a companion, since you were. At least in her memories after all.”

“I thought we were already friends, Dawn. So you’ve absorbed all the aether that was within it then…Well, I guess it turned out better than I thought it would’ve those many moons ago. Or has it been years? Don’t think me a bastard for all the things you now know?” She slowly shook her head at him in response before he continued. “Are you going to be fine without it?”

“I’ll make do. Make the time I have count and not waste my life trying to fix things I shouldn’t. But back to you, you need to take care of yourself, please.” she laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a slight squeeze in an attempt to convey her empathy. He placed his hand over hers and returned the gesture.“I will. Hate to just pick up meds and run, but I’m running on a schedule today.”

She brought a hand to her chest, and cradled it with the other. “Wait, there was one thing I wanted to mention. I think Halia might be in trouble.”

He kept his composure but the subject piqued his interest- not of what she said; that was something he was keenly aware of, but rather, the fact that she knew. “Did someone say something to you about it?” he asked nonchalantly.

She shook her head, “No, I haven’t seen her around lately, but that’s not why. In here.” she squeezed her hands against her chest, “I just felt it. That thing that was inside me, I got the same feeling as when it was still there- before she saved me from it, and…took it in herself.”

Again, nothing he didn’t already know, but the fact that she could sense something was amiss was of interest to him. He would table the thoughts for now since he had meetings to attend.

“I know, I’ll do something about it. I really do have to go. Take care of yourself too, and we’ll talk more about that feeling when I get back.”

Outside the estate he looked down at one of the parchments he had tucked away: an invitation to Radz-at-Han with a familiar organization sigil on it. He couldn’t ignore it this time, not after all his friend went through to get his attention.

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