Spirit World #6 - "The Promise of Eternity" (2023)

written by Alyssa Wong art by Haining & Sebastian Cheng

Today’s LGBTQIA+ Character of the Day is Xanthe Zhou from DC Comics, who is nonbinary!

Xanthe in Lazarus Planet: Dark Fate

Title: FFXIV Write 2023 - 1. Envoy Characters: Y'shtola Rhul, Matoya Rating: Teen Summary: One last talk between master and student Notes: None

Matoya pointedly ignored the going ons in her cave, despite the fact that her current chosen spot was more or less in the center of all the activity happening around her. As she took a sip of her tea, poroggos scampered by, each carrying a separate item to be placed into a luggage. As she turned a page, her one-time apprentice gave orders to animated brooms, ensuring that they would attend to their chores diligently and without needing further instruction. And as she returned from retrieving another book, she said nothing, even as the young woman stood nearby, hands clasped around her wand in front of her, looking at her expectantly.

She thumbed through her book to find the section she was looking for, and took a sip of her tea, giving out a snort of annoyance when she found it had gone colder than she cared for.

"Master Matoya."

"What is it, girl."

"I am to leave soon."

Matoya looked up and looked around the cave, seeing the girl's scant few belongings had been neatly packed and ready to go. The place was clean, in a way it had not been in ages, the result of the recent spurt of activity. It was as though a householder had decided on a vacation, and left the place spotless to wait for their return.

"So I see," she said dryly.

"Will you not reconsider lending us your counsel? I know you and Louisoix have not agreed on much these past few seasons, but he nevertheless sees and respects your wisdom. Your guidance would go a fair way towards helping us achieve our goals."

"Must we have this argument again? I have made my feelings clear. Louisoix can have his milk-sop sentiments and fellow bleeding hearts. I've my duty and charges here, and work enough to keep me busy."

"You often decry how wisdom is wasted on the Forum, and decry their abandonment of the colony and their duty as a sure sign of their cowardice. You disdain them for their inaction in light of the threat to the star, but surely you yourself would prefer to take action of your own."

"And if you quote his cute little indolence line at me, I shan't hesitate to box your ears. I've raised you to have thoughts all your own. No need to prattle on those of others at me."

Her one time student frowned at her, and that was how she had to think of her now.

"And mine own thoughts are to those of the star. You outwardly disdain the man, but it is plain to all that you respect him - and I as well. The plan to serve as envoys unto nations, that they may receive our wisdom, and steer their course away from calamity, is a sound one. One that could benefit from your perspective. Please reconsider."

"Hah! Envoys. If the wisdom of the world is wasted on those ninety nine fools of the forum, how much more of it is spurned by the leaders of Eorzea? His plan is well and good, but I think he underestimates the hardness of the world he intends to save. If you've a wish to waste your talents on them, then I shall not stop you, but do not think I shall stride alongside you either. I only hope, apprentice, that in trying to reach them, you do not find yourself on a fool's errand. Go if you must. I've made up my mind, and I shall be staying. That is all I wish to say on the matter."

Matoya fixed her student - no, curse her for her sentiment, her former student - with a level gaze, even as Sh - the other woman frowned back at her.

But then the expression melted into a soft smile.

"Well. I shall hope you won't hold it against me that I tried, one last time."

"Keep that stubbornness about you, girl, and maybe you'll find you make headway against heads softer than mine."

The moment held, a gentle tension to it, that broke freely into lightness, as they both laughed. Shtola, with a deep fondness, a warmth that Matoya was going to miss. Matoya, with a humor that she could feel the brittle dryness of, but nevertheless, was present.

"I shall miss you, master Matoya."

"Bah. I am master of yours no longer. You are your own master now... Y'shtola."

She winced just the tiniest bit at the addition of the honorific, but Matoya pushed on, pretending not to notice.

She had to.

"I shan't be there to keep Louisoix's worse tendencies in check, so that will fall upon you. Guide those dunderheads as best as you are able, but don't smother or mother them. They're all grown and must needs learn to look after their own tails sooner or later. But do keep eye over them. If they're wise, they'll listen to you well enough."

"Or they shall regret their own consequences," replied Y'shtola with mock darkness, and Matoya laughed again.

The two looked at each other for another long moment, Y'shtola reluctant to move further, and Matoya unwilling to make any effort at reaching out.

If she did, she might not come back.

"I shall write," said Y'shtola, at long last.

Matoya huffed, turning her attention back to her book. "Do or don't, see if I care. But do take care of yourself, child. I'd hate for my teachings of this last decade to go completely to waste should you find yourself at an unfortunate end."

Y'shtola made an exasperated noise, and Matoya allowed herself a thin smile.

She started to move towards Matoya, but then stopped, stiffly, and let her shoulders drop just the tiniest bit as she turned.

"Until we meet again, then, Archon Matoya."

"Until then, Archon Y'shtola."

Y'shtola looked back at her, and Matoya did not look up from her book even as she cursed herself inwardly for the slip. She did not mollycoddle her charge, and while she had been proud of the accomplishment that came with the title, she had scarce uttered it since it had been achieved other than to acknowledge its acceptance.

But Y'shtola did not linger, and soon the poroggos were practically tripping over themselves to be at the front entrance, where they could all speak with her one last time, ribbiting their goodbyes and hopes for fortune in her future. Matoya continued to read, even as she listened to Y'shtola give them all last bits of advice, hugs, and friendly rejoinders to their well wishes.

But the moment could not last forever, and soon enough, her apprentice was gone, and Matoya was alone in her cave.

She turned the page of her book, and allowed herself a smile, even as she sipped cold and bitter tea.

"May you ever walk in the light of the crystal, Shtola." she said to her now-empty home.

Campaign 2 where the bad ending happened and now the world depends on the capabilities of some of hte most wretched women on the planet. this too is yuri

FFxivWrite23 Entry #1: Envoy

FFxivWrite 2023 FFxivWrite23 Masterpost Prompt #1: Envoy

“Does the name Zularti Vensar mean anything to you, m’lady?” Faye’s hands immediately went limp, dumbfounded. She forgot about the teacup she had been holding, fumbling and catching it before it completely upturned, but not without sloshing several drops of its contents onto her gloves and the pink tablecloth to stain the fabric. Had she misheard him?

“I thought it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it…” the Lalafell across the table continued thoughtfully, stroking his snowy white beard. Lord Raisan Arcmantle had been a friend and colleague for nearly a decade, and few could be as steadfast or capable, but perhaps his age was beginning to catch up to him. “Excuse me–I’m sorry, what?” the Midlander sputtered, unable to get any other words out. She took a moment to collect herself, quietly clearing her throat. “Why… why do you ask?” “We had a visitor here at the teahouse by that name a few days ago, and I showed him around. He said he was a member of the Harbingers of Dawn from the old days. I didn’t recognize him, but it’s been a long time, and my memory isn’t what it used to be… But he had his free company badge, and I know it as one I made by my own hand,” Raisan explained, and Faye did her best to keep up her calm veneer even as her head spun, finding little succeed in the endeavor.. “Zularti? That’s not… That’s not possible… He’s…” Her words trailed off, unable to bring herself to finish the thought, and she shook her head slowly. He couldn’t possibly be alive, could he? After all this time, all her searching, could he just show up out of the blue? It was the conclusion her heart leapt to, what she wished to be true more than anything else, but she couldn’t allow herself to entertain the idea and set herself up for such grave disappointment. So what was this, then? A cruel joke or veiled threat from someone who knew far too much? “What did this person look like?” The Lalafell continued to run his fingers along his goatee as he tried to recollect. “He was tall… but I suppose everyone is taller than me. My apologies, m’lady. I don’t remember much else that stood out. My memory is failing me.” Faye stared down at her teacup, her hands shaking. It took all her focus to be mindful of her Magitek prosthetic, to make certain she didn’t crush the porcelain beneath the metal digits. The conversation continued, but it felt so far away, the Hyur lost in her own thoughts. Raisan had given the visitor a tour and they reminisced. Raisan offered him a room to stay at the teahouse, but the man had refused. She would ask a question as casually as she could, and Raisan would offer a response that brought her no closer to the answers she truly wanted. Her dismay must have been so apparent from across the room that Drakkaern had taken notice and wandered over to her side to offer his comfort, and while some part of her was vaguely aware of his presence, she was too preoccupied to acknowledge the poor man with his hand upon her shoulder. “He did say he will return sometime. It should be easy to spot him if he does,” Raisan surmised. “We don’t get many Hrothgar around here.” Faye stared at him in disbelief. 

“Hrothgar?”

Spartan Saturday — Adriana-111

A member of Gray Team, Adriana-111 acts as both the team's muscle and their designated marksman. She notably served alongside her teammates Jai-006 and Michael-120 during the battles at the Rubble and Metisette in 2535.

She also served in Operation: SUNSPEAR, which had the team destroy the Sangheili world of Glyke. Following the Carrow Conflict in 2558, the team formed a strike force with the Swords of Sanghelios, now operating out of the prowler UNSC Perilous Contest.

Envoy Yisu here to announce the theme for Anniversary Week: the Tides and Flames hell event!

First up is the mysterious Water Elf god themselves, Arionus. Their Reflection "Lost Tides" is somber, but hopefully it sheds light on how They were wrongfully blamed.

And during the event, both of the gods were referred to with gender-neutral pronouns, so I will be sticking with that for Anniversary Week.

X1 ~ Assassinate Love? Mission Failure!

Reference ~ Chapter One ~ ♪ "Violet" ♪ Heavy downpour of rain cascaded down below weeping skies, trembling with aches roaring amongst Othard city-scape. This story is gray, from time; before…                                   When they first met.                                                                 Softly a footstep rippled against a puddle left in aftermath. Until arriving indoors to an inner-sanctum, where native magpies chirped happily. Eastern-garbed Seeker blindfolded, but not senseless as one of the swarming envoy magpie flew above dropped a contract that would forever change the course of history, his hands-skillfully swiped. This particular individual served within an elite-group of assassins known as Black Miracles, underground where secrets are bred in a shadow organization. Specially-lethally designed to exterminate or hunt; mankind. Often they solved-plights that Doma citizens sought fortune with mere whispers, a jar was created in the space-and-void thought barren of nothing; and sometimes remedy and salvation was granted as alternative fortune.  Duzan-tai-gachi, a foretelling katana, rumors said it could cut-through-anything; was stolen by treacherous pirates stowing near a coast in Ruby Seas, a crucial weapon for arms, The Far East would need to further utilize in their efforts against the Imperial-noose in this period. Fingers-done tracing the braille, understood. Vanishing like fellow-air, his excelling reflexes, heard and moved gracefully not even droplets of rain stood a chance to drench him or deter his pace. Overlooking a cliff where the treacherous sea-vessel took station under canopies of tree-shade; leafs blown taken from creaking branches.

A small-pixie companion peeked her-eyes out of his sleeve and gave a yawn! Awakening, Flicker, who acted as his ‘Sight’ for bound-style. His-motionless tone and verbiage simplistically gave volume, “How many signatures do you detect below?” Commanding an estimate. She peered-forth and squinted, her eyes-zooming inward, aether dancing-around them, creating a distinct aura. As she began counting them… Something odd-occurred, never happening prior that frightened, even the magical-being. The fluttering pixie had eyes-dart back at her of powerful brilliant-violets orbs. “T-t-there’s someone unique in there! They perceived my snooping! I counted a hundred-thirty-nine; before seen Master!” It could be worrying that his own outline was seen back. Most would derail from this mission, dangerous to advance.  Emotionless discarded and donning a mask. “Very well. I’ll just have to slaughter them before they anticipate further thoughts.” There wasn’t any maliciousness in conveying, killing was nothing more than breathing. He pricked a thumb and swiped it across a scroll quickly, and a Hingashi Kite appeared. Gale-winds of the storm, tempest were felt in not only the perception of his incredible-Miqo'te genes, but analyzing when to act with timing and trajectory.  Laughing drunk freebooters on the deck were festively continuing their putrid vices. Descending and atop them with a shadow-drop, they saw a kite above. Before their eyes-caught up, the lights dimmed out, he let himself go from the kite’s handles, and was on their table, kunai-knives, needles and strong-tempered wire linked to those projectiles, swept underneath his sleeves from various directions, piercing their throats, jugulars, every vital and alongside, severing them. A curvaceous courtesan who was getting rowdy sea-dog drinks walked upon poor time, she saw crimson ichor being washed away, the rain was frighteningly his accomplice, the puddle-of-red reflected his true murder-design. She couldn’t bellow aloud, a death-palm wrapped around her mouth, another callous-leather-gloved hand squeezing around her throat, tight-too-much-so. Expression's fear wrinkled her facially… Then… absence, null, but silent-peace, strangled and manhandled. He was just a loyal-bound blade of servitude, no attachments anchored him. Who molded him into such a proficient-weapon, broke, rebuilt, and then broke him again until he was forged; meant to horrifically slash, he-zoned away from his identity. Becoming Doma’s hidden blade, The Black Miracle; resident night-fright, his-assassin moniker; Shadow Father. Before disappearing from his deed, fire erupted from below the floorboards, he barely dodged unscathed, his tail-singed and soles alongside garb, strand hairs engulfed to embers. Instinct kept him solid. Quick-but-not fast enough to slaughter-everyone as intended. That presence aboard who peered back, unthinkably walked up above, her aroma drove him wildly in familiarity and attempted to evoke; tranquility, and even open to possibilities of allure. Beyond all that emotionless, senses were being drawn-back for the memory, he wore so many masks and bore many scars, to forget, manipulatively disciplined. You are nothing but steel…           You will execute for peace.    You are formless, stainless. You’re too sharp and have no delicate edges.            You slaughter in one-blow decisively. You hold no-weights, your identity-matters not. For you are The-Blade! Remembering this poisonous teaching, he was whipped, brutalized, his body-soul-mind-spirit forged, conducted in a method, to become strictly something conditioned, for War. A thing; the technology, advancements of all of Garlemald would be fearful to know; as an enemy not even precious machinery could stay guarded.

Flicker pried out of his sleeve gaining some distance but telepathically linking to him, “Careful, Master! She’s got spirits! They’re… they’re everywhere… even the ones-you-slew.” Silencing and restoring composure from his flash-back once again being his own bane of emotion, blinding himself. Her bare-feet walked on the dock, connected with nature’s blessing, life to death, in the fullest. A totem-hanging on her waist. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault, I should’ve figured they’d bring someone to retrieve that blade! I’v-” Before she could explain; that reasoning beyond their thievery was to remove the Voidal curse placed on that blade! If anyone unsheathed it, they would’ve gone on a mad killing-spree and struck all allies. She was round-kicked in the gut-sent reeling back and upchucking saliva, her breathing labored and consciousness staggered. The assassin lunged-forth with a piercing-charge but was blocked by an earth-spirit who defended her, conditionally and lovingly. The fire-element sent another blast towards him that caused his tail-senses to react with a bolted dodge. The-pirated angry spirits that were slain became malevolent and wicked, to the point they were manifesting pure-hatred toward their executor. He took punches and blows, from-the-unseen in-between worlds as-if air-was fighting back. Visibly-soundless blows cracked ribs heard, his teeth-gritted, palms grabbing the hilt of his true-sheathed Hingashi-forged, blade, aether exuding out of him before pulling out with a spinning slash, true-compact steel like he wielded, neutralizes spirits-demons, once again he slew and their heads dissipated, as so-did their forms, but they would manifest again, in time. This occurrence wasn’t normal. Most often people vanquished will dissolve to the life-stream typically, but not always. Some spirits-souls, become lost or fragments! And as-such, become damned, malevolent-incarnates, they curse, and will-sink into where they often were slain with irritation if not given proper guidance or closure. By a-proper mender. That woman was responsible, that strange-totem on her waist, strange-aura emitted from it. Flicker shouted out at him.You’ll have to kill her or destroy that thing on her buckle! Regaining her stature a little wobble in her legs and shaking, she spat out blood, giving a look at her palm of her condition; feeling it; embracing, “I don’t like to hurt others, but I’ve no choice! You’re too dangerous!” Taking a fighting-pose, her lips pursed apart.                                      “Soul-Integration: Earth"

He took a sword-stance, which his blade-charged lightning swirled around him, in blinding-speed he would-take once again another plunge forth, it didn’t matter if any of her element-spirits were blocking him. He’d blitz and take that damned-head! The accomplice of the assassin, the rainstorm taking place, struck lightning and fed into his aetherial charge! Blowing-through, uprooting and tearing the-deck of the ship, lightning-set-ablaze and struck the sail, burning it; rain-weather sought to quell. His powerful-strike was rooted and grabbed-shockingly, by her hand that was earthly-attuned and imbued, startling to him, the soles-of-her feet had become-gravel clad-boots to absorb electricity and nullify it, entirely and reinforce her physical-strengths ten-fold. She delivered a counter-punch uppercut that shattered his mask and broke into his face, following with her long and powerful legs, thighs credibly known of the Seeker and kicked him in the ribs if they were-cracked from earlier onslaught, it broke just now!

His air-gone and wheezing lungs took placement, sanguine-drenched down from his nose-broke, he realigned with a snap.   She fused herself with the Earth spirit? What-was this woman?! “MASTER, I’VE HEARD OF THIS!”                                     “SHE’S A SHAMAN!!!”

Coughing and hacking up internal-injury, the Black Miracle, blindfolded visage revealed mask-shattered, but some of his tribal-marks showing his distinguished face.                                                                                                                         They knew another. Gasp of realization came from her, tackled off her feet the Integration breaking, detecting her stance-wavered showing signs of weakness to exploit, falling back on the wood below crashing with him over-top her, he aligned his blade up to the skies and was going to pierce it-downward into her heart, in that instantaneous moment fire-erupted, his-blindfold, was extinguished purposely, her delicate hands grabbed his cheek; comfortably, an ilm-away from puncture, her composure didn’t waver, his unyielding and dazzling golden eyes-open and the world unraveled to truth. Time felt removed. With all that was ingrained, emotionless, nothingness. How could he forget the one-person who combated him many, years ago, strangers that passed by in their moments-in-life, and for some reason, she conveyed something out of him and extracted it to make him; change his destiny and create a dynasty to live for a greater-good. He was Shadow, mysterious and deadly, but unbiased-slaughtered he sacrificed his identity without even being born from the Nationality to make amends for the atrocities of a Nunh formerly, he became emotionless not trusting his raging ire of old; transforming to cold steel; removing former color until it was midnight-black. She was Light, warm, non-discriminating, embraced notions, exhibiting pure heat. Just her presence-alone, felt like you were able to confide-in, she sacrificially served as a heroine ahead-of-time and threw herself at the task of any troubled-spirit, soul, and brought eternal-heaven before them. Exiled and Freed from their Tribe Sept-branches they entangled on fate-paths long-ago and had but a simple conversation, but there was something that felt-so intimate between them and joy-easiness, that type of feeling; you cannot conceive, can’t put currency on it and try determining the value, or place-why, it just exists! Love meant to be. When gaze met; constellations opened, peering futures, hearts awoke, hers longingly and that blade himself, alongside wielded, surrendered clanging against the planks.                 “I know you.” "Yeah, and I know you.”                                                             Her smile sheathed his steel-composure. For the first-time again… his heart-beat thrummed.      Reminded his identity-of-former, beyond obligated masks wore.

How problematic after a succession-rate of 100%                                                         Mission,                                         Contract,                                                             Failed...

Prompt: Envoy (for FFXIV Write 2023)

trigger warnings for: blood, violence, and death Thanalan had always been a strange land to me. I had walked its paths a handful of times and each instance had always left me feeling a little somber. Perhaps it was the dry climate or the haggard faces I passed each day, or the way the land itself seemed to struggle under the weight of its own being. Cracked earth, grating sand, heat that invaded every pore until it felt like your soul was set ablaze. Yet one could find a certain charm in that struggle. The things that lived here were so vastly different from the denizens of the Shroud that even I, a fool, could appreciate how stubbornly life clung to its own survival. It was a brutal land, yes, but a beautiful one.

Tonight as I sat against a large boulder, my only companion as the light faded over the horizon, I found my gaze drawn to the distant glowing formations across the nearby mountains. Dizzying spirals of bronze and burning orange colored the sky like some beautiful, garish reminder of the Calamity's lingering scars. As the light of the day faded away those formations began to glow like a dimmer sun rising to light the world around it. I found my eyes tracing along the way the crystalline structure arched and coiled through the air, wondering how long such a thing might last as the turns dragged on. Would it persist long after we had all given our final breaths, or like so many other things, would it crumble to ruin as the weight of its own existence one day brought it to the ground?

Why did that matter to me, now? I considered how often I found my mind wandering of late as I continued on this journey. While I dipped a hand into the loose sand beside me, passing the grains between my fingers, and letting them sprinkle back to the ground I wondered. How long had it been since I truly considered the world around me? When had the people, the places, the things I saw become so secondary to me? I knew the answer. I remembered the very day, in fact. I remembered the way she tripped trying to separate me and the guard. I can hardly remember the words we exchanged, the insults slung at me, but I remember the way she tumbled when he shoved her. How she slipped back and fell, and how it sounded the moment her head struck…

A noise broke me from my somber reverie and my thoughts, distracted as they were, fought to focus on the moment. I’d missed the subtle shift of a body scraping across the underbrush. It was a fatal thing, letting your mind wander. Sometimes it came with a price. I barely registered the surface of the blackened, wooden shaft before the arrow cut into my shoulder and knocked me to the boulder. Pain sparked through my entire being and I gasped, reaching up to clutch my fingers around the exposed shaft. Warmth was already flooding across my fingers and the smell of copper with it.

“Ah, dammit…this low light gets me every time. Sorry about that I was aiming for the heart, but you know how these things go.”

As I felt my heart quicken and sweat begin to bead at my brow I turned, fighting to find the source of the voice. It didn’t take long before I saw him, and the next arrow he’d already knocked. I briefly considered reaching for my bow, but there was no time. Not that it would matter, my shoulder hung limp at my side with the arrow lodged deep as it was.

“Just hold still a moment will you? I don’t wanna waste too many of these.”

This time I was aware enough to shield myself when the arrow loosed. My movements, though, felt sluggish and heavy. I saw the glint of that horrid orange glow reflecting off the arrowhead and knew, from the way it arched cleanly through the air, it would strike me in the neck. I had only enough time to bring my palm up. The point sliced the leather, cut through my palm and found the second layer of leather. Its impact was enough that, as the point emerged through my hand my whole arm jerked back. Another pain came as the edge sliced my lip, and I tasted copper. 

The breath that escaped me came with a pained noise and I felt a distant shame surrendering to the feeling. My arm fell limp to my side and I felt pain arch up the length of it, penetrating my thoughts as I studied my would-be killer. A mish-mash of leather, and mail, a faceplate that obscured his face save for a pair of cold blue eyes. They stared at me half surprised, half annoyed that the second shot hadn’t finished the work.

“Ha, he wasn’t kidding. You really are one tough bastard, aren’t you? Ah well…just do this the old fashioned way.”

His voice was young, but biting. A midlander from his build, I reasoned. There was an awkwardness in the way he walked as he drew closer, as if the armor didn’t fit quite right, or perhaps he was injured. Whatever the case it didn’t matter. What did matter was the knife he pulled from his hip as he casually approached. 

“Who…are you?” I managed to choke the words out and realized how heavy they sounded, how dry my throat had become in those few moments.

“Ah that doesn’t really matter, does it? Just say I’m here to deliver a message, like a…last letter? Sure we’ll go with that. You angered some fellow real bad, mister. Mad enough that he wants you dead!” Closer now I could make out the way his eyes widened, and focused between breaths. Are you scared of me, I wondered? Or are you scared of what you need to do? Am I going to be your first?

“Heard something about a bunch of dead Wailers…was that you? You did all that and here I’ve got you stuck like a cactuar…ain’t that just something.”

He knelt down in front of me, reaching a hand up to grip my shoulder and a fresh wave of pain coursed through me. Blood flowed a little faster, staining this stranger’s hand, and nearly making me dizzy. 

“Now…do us both a favor, mister. Just sit there real nice, and I’ll make this qu-HRK!”

He’d gotten too close. The blade was still held back at his waist, not ready for the killing blow. If he’d had the sense to move it forward as he leaned in he would’ve blocked that desperate move. He could’ve sliced me in the belly or throat, and been done with it. *Amateur*.

“Like a cactuar…right?”

I watched the panic in his eyes as his mind fought to come to grips with what happened. With only a moment to spare I’d brought my injured hand up and slammed the arrow into his neck, just beneath the chin of his mask. The metal would’ve protected a strike, but his throat was exposed, vulnerable. Something vital inside was cut, and for good measure I wrenched my hand aside delivering a fatal blow. There were no more words after that, only the choking, gurgling sound of a man who’d already died but didn’t know it yet.

He collapsed forward onto me in a heap and released one final sigh. Then he went still, and my head rested back against the boulder as I fought to take just one steady breath. I don’t know why I found myself reaching a hand up to rest on the back of his head. My fingers brushed down his messy hair, and I found myself looking down at him. Young, too young to be doing this, I reasoned. Someone lied to you and set you on this path and this is where you ended up. Because of me.

Another rush of pain pulled me from that thought, and in annoyance I shoved the body off my lap. He collapsed in an unceremonious heap while I did my best to roll onto my knees. I needed aid, and Drybone wasn’t far. I hoped they wouldn’t ask too many questions, but inevitably they always did. After taking a moment to search one handed through the man’s pack I found a folded note. The edges stained red as a trickle of blood soaked into the corner, but I’d read it later.

Getting to my feet proved difficult. Like the weight of the world was suddenly brought to my shoulders threatening to lay me low. Glancing down I saw just how much of me was stained in blood, my own and his. Sighing, I took one last moment to glance at the man…boy really, at his body and shook my head. I would tell them where to find him, make sure he received a proper burial. I wondered if he’d have afforded me the same courtesy but it didn’t matter. I’d ended the boy's life and he deserved that much at least, if for no other reason than having the courage to try. I wondered who had sent him to deliver that message, and would I get the chance to return it one day.

I limped my way back towards the settlement, down the dusty road passing the dried brush and the flowering cacti, passed the beasts who lingered in this oppressive place but eked out their survival one day at a time. Like them I had been cut and bled to take one more breath. Preyed upon by an opportunistic hunter eager for a kill. Would there be more? Possibly, but there was only one clear choice in whether to accept defeat or struggle for one more day. A choice I had made when I began this journey. To struggle was to live.

Spirit World #4 - "Erosion" (2023)

written by Alyssa Wong art by Haining & Sebastian Cheng

FFXIVwrite2023 1. Envoy

Character: Hien Rijin, Y'zel Tia, Natsu Obinata Expansion: Endwalker Rating: T Notes: N/A

"Shun. Do you promise to always love me?"

"As long as the Kami will me to draw breath and beyond, Little Cat."

Hien inhaled a moment, eyes shut. Through the revolution that followed, the restoration efforts of Doma, and his part in the Final Days, the memory of his time with Y'zel remained fresh, as if it were the day before. The feeling of the other's fangs gently raking up his neck, claws down his back, and warmth of their often desperate union. The taste of his tongue against his own. Smelling their campfire lingering in the Miqo'te's hair when they awoke. Their voice seeming to hesitate after saying his name when not calling out properly in a fit of passion. The way his fair skin would seem to glow lightly in the dark and never burn no matter how much the sun bore down on them. And of course his wide blue searching eyes always upon him.

"Don't move. I just want you with me for as long as possible," Y'zel's voice panted, hand coming to touch his cheek.

Hien rested his palm where the memory had laid their hand. Opening his eyes, he let out a sigh then looked up to his attendant, giving a nod to let his visitor in. He held his breath as the doors opened. No pink-haired woman entered. Neither a Miqo'te. Instead, a young Auri woman wandered in, crushing the small flicker of hope for a reunion with his missing husband.

He hid his disappointment, for the moment, in hopes of some sort of revelation. Stiffening, he looked upon the young woman as she bowed, lowering his head a touch as well.

"Welcome. I am Hien Rijin of Doma," he greeted, "If I'm not mistaken, you are claiming to be the younger sister of the Emporer Consort. I'm afraid I do not see any earthly possibility of that."

"Yes, I understand why you might think that. I am Natsu Obinata, Daughter of Raiden Obinata…," she answered, keeping herself bowed, "Who, if I have my sources right, raised Y'zel Tia into adulthood."

Hien's heart skipped a beat. Forgetting himself he got up then kneeled in front of her, taking the girl's hands in his, long digits grazing her bare wrist, "Then you come with news? Where is he? What happened to him!?"

Natsu was taken aback by the man's desperation, but her expression soon vacated to a stillness he'd only seen on those with the gift of the Echo. She soon jerked her hand from his, falling backward with her face flushed, breathing ragged. 

"Are you okay? Are you by chance one who has the Blessings of light," he asked, reaching out to help her upright.

"Please don't touch me," she requested firmly, moving to sit up on her knees, "Yes, I have heard the Mother Crystal's call. At a touch, I can relive moments through the eyes of others. Hear their thoughts, know their feelings. It's an empathetic and sensory overload" she answered, shivering.

Hien gave the girl a tatami mat's worth of space, moving to sit on his knees opposite of her. Natsu brushed her hair back then shook her head.

"I am here because I found his name on your family registry in my search for him. I've only had glimpses of him though the Echo…including yours just now. I was hoping that you might know where he is so that I might know who my father really was. It seems, you too, do not know his whereabouts."

Hien hung his head, "He came to be my side more than a year's time ago. I had sent him away to Hingashi to seek a means to contact his family about our union so that they would not worry. He did not return and I had a duty to the people of the Mol tribe and Doma to fulfill. It has been so long, I have come to fear the worst and I have not the luxury of using Doma's limited resources to pursue him."

"But is he not the Emporer Consort?"

"Doma was still under occupation and the people did not witness a coronation nor do many even know of my taking a partner. His name was added for my benefit. So that I never forget…and can assure myself it was real."

Natsu shook her head, "From the brief glimpse I got, it was. I'm sorry. My presence here has upset you. Both of us seem to have held hopes the other might know his location. My destination will be Eorzea then. I am certain he lives and is there. I will…tell him that you are looking for him. When I figure out how to get there and where he is…"

Hien sat up. "You're sure he lives," he asked before taking a breath, "If that really is true, then I would ask a favour. Please, I ask not as the Emporer of Doma, but as the one who loves Y'zel, bring him a letter as my envoy. At the very least I can assist you in getting to your destination."

Natsu blinked in surprise as the Emporer lowered himself, "Your highness!?"

"Please."

The girl stood, nodding as the man looked up to her, "Of course. In a roundabout way we are family if you think about it."

"I suppose we are," Hien answered, giving her a soft smile, "You are welcome to stay here as my guest as I prepare my letter and a means of travel for you. I'll have someone fetch you when it's dinner time. I hope you like meat."

"Thank you," Natsu said, bowing as the Emporer stood and smiled.

Hien took his leave, letting his apparent sister-in-law move about the building as she pleased with his blessing. Once out of sight, he leaned against a post, holding his chest as the emotional gravity started to burrow deep into his heart. His mind, for the briefest of moments, flashed Y'zel's face, and he wept.

【𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬.】

"It is said that when Oracle Envoys appear playing their pipes, they do so to herald the arrival of a new god, or age."

Choose your Frame...

Starfinder 2E Playtest Impressions

This week a report on the Starfinder 2E playtest from Owlcon 2024. Come see what's cooking!

Getting back into digital art by drawing the PCs + main antagonist from my Starfinder game