Ithradine

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:@HereComesTheSnow

---

The sharp pings of metal resonated all around Ciradyl as Arton deftly maneuvered himself and his shield to match each volley of shots. Each time they had met each other's gaze he seemed to express the same disgust he expressed that night of Mizutani's death. All the same he worked tirelessly to protect her and Neve. She couldn't lie and say being under such directed fire didn't bring up the desire to cease her performance and seek cover. She couldn't do that. The tide of battle was turning in their favor. Who knows what other afflictions would befall them if she ceased?

Connecting this many souls was punishing. Sweat beat down her face as the prismatic cloak around her coalesced into ribbons, dancing around her body growing in size away from her body. There had only been a scare few moments in which she had ever gotten to utilize her gift in such a grand display. Everything she knew about weaving the Aether in this manner had been self-taught. The creature this opposing tune came from threatened to break the thin barrier she had conducted around the minds of those aboard at the slightest sign of weakness.

Arton balanced his attention on Valon's men firing on Ciradyl and keeping a close eye on Neve. There was no telling if they would suddenly shift their focus onto her. The calculation didn't take much time in his head. He would not hesitate to toss the Bard aside if it meant saving Neve instead. Their reduced numbers did make it marginally easier to block or deflect their shots, something he had gotten accustomed to over the course of their journey.

He steadied his footing as the entire ship seemed to shake.

Cold, blue eyes narrowed at the rising monstrosities from the sea. Yet another foe he could do little against. "Do. Not. Stop." Arton keep his eyes firmly on the closest head as he gave his simple command to the Faye behind him. At the point the heads rose from the blue waters, the colorful and immaterial ribbons had split and twisted through deck of the ship. Those within its vicinity would not simply feel the effects of the Siren's song diluted but feel a boost to their combat abilities.

Ciradyl stared up at Rudolf cast into the sky, tempted to call out to him. As before, the ethereal ribbons flickered in response to her distress. "Ciradyl!" Arton's harsh tone snapped her out of such a petty whim. Rudolf could handle himself. She had to believe that for right now. Believe in him.

"ARTON!"

Arton heard Rudolf call his name and felt their eye meet and exchange a wordless conversation. His knees bent and he leaped into the air noticing it was bound to fly just overhead. The gem was snatched just as it threatened to zoom past him. The moment he touched down, he pulled Neve towards close to Ciradyl, hovering over them as the shield was activated just in time. The vicious maw of one of the heads crashed into the barrier, open wide and desperately trying to crush through with its teeth. The rapid onslaught of water parted around them as Arton held his stance, preparing his next move should the shield falter.

Ciradyl's expression soured at the situation unfolding. This was not enough. Everyone needed just an extra push, but she was scared. There had been a strange power building alongside the ballad she performed. Her knees trembled and her knuckles turned white. Now was not the time to be frightened. She had to do something now. Ciradyl closed her eyes as she effortlessly shifted into the beginnings of a new song. Intense. Powerful. Embers of the same prismatic energy that had spread across the deck now were being drawn towards the members of Team Kirin.

Vague, human shapes in a faded white hue and covered in a rainbow-like outline came into view surrounding Ciradyl and hovering just above the ground. A full orchestra of spectres readied their various instruments as Ciradyl slowly opened her eyes. They glowed with a myriad of colors as she struck the first chord. Everything was put forward as the first words of this new aria flowed through them. Her voice saturating the entire zone around the ship as the ghostly orchestra performed perfectly alongside her. A Dreamer's Requiem.

Arpeggio of Blue Steel: The Phantom Fleet

⁂ Fσɠ Cαɾɾιҽɾ Sԋιɳαɳσ ⁂

Mentions:@BigPapaBelial@YukikazeOL@SleepyWrites

---

Shinano had set out a white, wooden table with matching chairs towards the front of her bow. A delicate, floral umbrella provided some degree of shade though for a mental model like herself it provided little benefit besides some pleasant ambiance. At face value, the woman dressed in a floral, raven-black traditional kimono was simply enjoying a cup of tea. The reality was that her full attention was being diverting to maintaining an extensive sensory network as they waited for their expected guest.

"Please be patient awhile longer, New York. You will have your moment to shine as well." Her tone made it unclear exactly how soon that was to be expected, followed by a faint giggle as she concluded her transmission over their linked network. Previously closed eyes slowly opened and the relaxed expression she had been wearing sharpened at Le Terrible's communications. "That is the human vessel we are expecting. Please keep an eye on it as it approaches. I must properly set the table. The fact that the destroyer's reaction had been so confrontational didn't trouble the mother of the fleet. It was the prime minister of Japan, after all, that had wanted to meet with them.

The faces of the crew about the human destroyer were tense, harboring a mix of fear and resentment all save for a select few senior officers and a sharply-dressed older gentleman that stood out from the rest. Now that they had set out into open waters the chance their presence would be picked up by FOG forces were near 100%. Each one of these sailors were trusting in their leadership and the surrounding former FOG ships to guide the operation smoothly.

Shinano materialized silverware and other adornments to decorate the table she had already created when she felt an unidentified contact slip into her sensor field. Then other. And other. They were earlier than she expected. "New York, Le Terrible, Oakland, I'm sending the data now. It would appear we have a few party crashers." Shinano's serene voice spoke through their network and along with it came a holographic mockup up of an approaching hostile FOG fleet.

The lead and largest ship was an Atago-class heavy cruiser with two Nagara-class light cruisers and five Akizuki-class destroyers. They were travelling in a tight formation at high-speed on direct intercept route with the human vessel. "Oakland, support Le Terrible in screening operations while New York gets into position. I do not detect a mental model within the opposing forces." Mental models were somewhat rare amidst the vast Fleet of Fog.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:@The Otter

---

That night he dreamed of nothing. His eyes closed and all went silent and dark. It was heaven. Etro had granted him a night of much needed respite.

It had been increasingly harder for Arton to hide his developing condition from the crew and those of Team Kirin not already aware. No longer did he venture outside of his assigned quarters and he when he did he ensured he was covered head to toe. He would give the crew a vague mention of feeling under the weather, stating a self-imposed quarantine as his reason for isolation.

Black veins like creeping tendrils had covered the majority of his left arm and had started to move towards the center of his chest, spreading from the bite on his shoulder. Every time a blight-beast entered a certain radius, not matter how small, he would feel that blackened scar burn. He offered a quiet prayer up to Etro for letting him savor this rest undisturbed. Arton stared at the rough floorboards of his room, wondering if Neve had let anyone else know of his sorry state. It would not take much investigation to figure it out.

He fell onto two knees alongside the bed, his right palm braced on the mattress as he bow his head. "Danube, guide me on my path. Vania, grant me the wisdom to seek guidance from my allies. Himstus, push me to fight until my last breath. Illias, bring me to a new beginning. Dhinas, lend me the courage to see this through. Imir, give me the endurance to push through. Ithar, bring your mercy upon me should I falter. Etro, cleanse me of this Blight." Arton had spoken similar prayers since the temple in the desert hoping at least one of the gods would grant him a blessing, just enough to halt the blight within. The fact he had been able to sleep at all last nigh was surely a sign their eyes were turning to him.

After prayers came the arduous process of donning the layers of armor he as so fond of. His reluctance to go without it surely benefitted him in this situation. Arton was nearly finished tightening the straps on his bracers when the dulled, intelligible sounds of shouting came from above. Another monster? Blight-beast? The scar had yet to react so it was not the latter. Hard thuds on the dense wood above in quick succession told him that either was unlikely. Quickly he grabbed his armaments and rushed out of his room. Muffled clangs of metal rattled in his ears as he picked up the pace. It sounded like they had been boarded by something.

The swordsman fell to his knees, immediately hurling as a mystical melody crawled into his mind. His sword fell to the ground, bringing his hands over his ears. It felt as though his head was going to split open. A cold sweat began to drip down his forehead when, not fast enough, the feeling dulled greatly. Arton retrieved his weapon through ragged breathing and steeled his nerves as he arrived at the stairs leading outside.

It was chaos.

Everyone was already thrown into a pitched battle on the deck, with most of Kirin already engaged. As he suspected, Ciradyl was playing an equally enchanting melody that seemed to be offsetting whatever had pierced his eardrums earlier. Flying soldiers? He grimaced knowing there would be little role of him to playing in any offensive operations. His eyes searched immediately for Neve's distinctive profile, finding her immediately along with Esben.

"Esben, I'll watch over Neve and Ciradyl! You got a better chance at taking these guys out! His voice projected over the sounds of battle, a slight raspy tone to it. Arton had gotten a lot faster thank to his training with Izayoi but right now there was no way for him to take out any targets in the air. He only prayed that all this commotion did not attract the attention of a Blight-Beast larger than what they had been dealing with.

Arpeggio of Blue Steel: The Phantom Fleet

@BigPapaBelial@Kensai

Are you two going to post soon?

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:

---

Ciradyl had been merrily humming a tune as she diced some vegetables on a wooden cutting board. She had taken up helping the head cook with meal preparation in order to brush off the rust of her own skills. It had been an rather enjoyable experience and the crew seemed to light up each time Ciradyl was there to serve them their meals. Once served, she would often perform some musical accompaniment to overwhelming applause. It was bitterly sweet taste of what her life might have been had Osprey not been ravaged by war. This was soon cut short by the commotion and voices been raised above deck.

The Faye tore through the lower hallways nimbly maneuvering around scrambling pirates as she hurried for her quarters. Several hard thuds came from above just as she reached her room. Her keen hearing could just about make out what was being said. The door was flung open hitting a wooden stool as her eyes quickly searched for her armor. She scrambled to slide the leather chest-piece over the white blouse she had been wearing. Ciradyl had just gotten her bow and quiver slung over her shoulder when the ethereally melody flooded her ears. Her eyes flicked to Heaven's Chorus and wasted not another second grabbing it, rushing out of her quarters. There was something sinister, deeply unsettling about the notes that made her nauseous.

Ciradyl emerged on the top deck holding the violin and bow. Immediately she flinched as the strange song grew louder in her head. She couldn't take anytime to take stock of the chaotic battle unfolding around her and immediately readied her bow on the strings of her violin. After a deep breath, she drew the bow across the bow across Heaven's Chorus and after the brief prelude began to sing.

You are an ocean of waves
Weaving a dream
Like thoughts become a river stream
Yet may the tide ever change
Flowing like time
To the path, yours to climb

A faint, rainbow-like glow emitted from the Faye as she focused all of her energy into the performance. What normally would have granted a boon to her allies on the ship served instead to rid them of the malicious shackles on their mind. The two aether-projected melodies collied in a discordant symphony as each fought to rise above the other. Ciradyl could feel a fierce push-back from whoever, or whatever, was performing against her and it took all of her concentration not to break her trance-like state. There was little else she could do so she entrusted her protection her allies.

Drown it out. Focus.

Do not miss a step. Concentrate.

Every now she caught a glimpse of Izayoi, Galahad, or Eve moving in for a strike or dodging one. Wait. Where was he? Every time that she had came out onto the top deck she could see Rudolf sitting in his normal, isolated spot. The prismatic glow around her flickered as she wondered where he had charged off to before becoming stable once more. No time. Team Kirin couldn't afford to be hampered by whatever foul curse this sinister melody brought forth.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

HOMECOMING

MENTIONS: ...

---

The skies were clear, crystal blue and the weather was fair as the young Neve crossed the border into Drana Asnaeu territory. The vast plains and rolling hills of Edren soon turned into an ever-growing forest of larger and larger trees. They had not grown to the majesty of the trees belonging to its largest towns and cities but they had begun to form a canopy that allowed little sunlight through. There was a thick, acrid stench that began to drift on the wind soon followed by clumps of dark smoke. There was something burning in the distance of what should have been the frontier village of Oren’s Wood.

Corpses of diseased animals began to dot the area as Neve passed through and the trees had lost a large number of leaves. Buildings typical of Drana architecture slowly came into view as well as the source of the smoke. A large bonfire raged at what should have been the village center, a place where locals sold what small goods they produced. There was another, familiar stench that carried its way from the bonfire towards Neve. The smell of a Blight-beast. They were stacked on top of each other on the bonfire and its intense heat melted flesh from bone.

There stood two figures near the bonfire amidst what had to have been a horrific battle. One wore silver armor adorned with black cloth that was typical of Knights in this kingdom. It was difficult to discern their appearance with their backs to her as she approached. The second had faded, white hair and her skin looked like it was covered in pale, gray ash. The robes she wore were clearly intended to be robust enough for travel and possibly combat. Her presence suggested she was a caster of some kind. Whoever they were, it almost seemed like they were bowing their heads in reverence.

—

There was still so much to do. That was the reason she left Drana Asnaeu, the reason she left Brightlam, the reason that she left Cascona Landing. She had always been told that she was different– special– just because the wind and grass whispered to her from time to time. And just as Neve’s journey away from home had led her away from the bedlam of thick trees and the droning nags of the Grovemasters, they had called her back before she could even bring anything hopeful back home.

Frustration wasn’t even the beginning of what she felt. The emotion burned in her throat and formed a knot in her gullet. It scorched deep in her chest as her silver-feathered chocobo trotted along, his claws carefully picking over the dead underbrush. Clutched in Neve’s white-knuckled right fist was a damp, yellowed letter. Its ink had been tarnished by rain and other sorts of moisture. She couldn’t even recall the words scrawled upon the page. Every time her mind flicked back to the courier that had handed her the letter, she remembered that she had left Izayoi, Arton, Eliane, and Galahad without a single word. Were they okay? Could they be looking for her..?

Between the tired trud of her exhausted chocobo and the thoughts that stormed in her mind, Neve hardly caught the scent of smoke. It was the bothered snort of her steed that snapped her back to reality, and that was when she realized that her throat and chest burned more than before. Spluttering, she raised her sleeve to her lips in an attempt to stifle the smoke from entering her lungs. Creatures, beings of the wood and plains, laid dead on the side of the road. Her chocobo wheezed in discomfort, most likely because of the sight and stench of gore. Neve smoothed down the feathers at the back of his neck before nudging her ankles into his sides and guiding him into a quicker trot. If she was right, there had to be a village around. They could rest there.

She wasn’t wrong. As she stepped into the outskirts of the nameless village, the bright glow of a vicious bonfire filled her vision. Neve’s nose wrinkled with the foul stench of a Blightbeast’s burning flesh. Everything was far too quiet and still besides the fire’s starving, flaming tongues… and the strange figures that stood near the scorching corpses. Pulling on the reigns of her chocobo, Neve guided the beast to the side of the road before she slipped off the saddle and slowly approached the strange folk. Her hands smoothed down the wrinkles of her white-and-red cloak as she fought the nervous patter in her chest.

“What… what has happened here?”

The pointed ears of the woman twitched at the new sound “Damage control.”

The mature woman's voice was cold but carried a sadness tempered by a reverence for the dead. A staff not incredibly dissimilar to Neve's was secured on her slender back. Sparse armor plating covered vital areas around a well-made, well-worn robe. A soft sigh left her lips as she turned around to face the newcomer. Her eyes were a milky white which may have explained why she was looking at Neve but not making direct eye contact. The Knight turned around as well but did not speak. Silver fox ears poked out from his closed helmet and he looked at Neve with piercing orange eyes.

“We came upon this village in the middle of an attack by the Blight. The few survivors were sent towards another settlement.” The Faye woman spoke.

“What is your name, young one?” The coarse voice came from the Knight who could see the influence of Draanu in her attire.
The strange woman’s sudden and direct reply nearly made Neve leap out of her skin. Now that she noticed, there was a lilt to her voice, and her temperance reminded her of the many other apprentices that she spent time with in Brightlam. Her gaze darted from the pile of charred Blightbeasts and the rest of the village. Empty and void of any life other than theirs, the sheer silence of its wooden buildings made her the inner depths of her chest ache. At the very least there were some that had survived the onslaught, she told herself.

Neve perked up at the armored man’s query. For a moment, she pondered whether or not to surrender her name to the pair, but seeing as they were culling Blightbeasts and saving villages, she figured that they were trustworthy enough. Nervously clearing her throat, she dipped her head towards them. “I am Neve Shadesbough,” she answered, curtsying in respect to the duo. “I was ordered by the Grovemasters themselves to return to Brightlam post-haste.”

The brows of the woman seemed to lift up in recognition of her name and returned the curtsy while the armored knight bowed “I am Soriel and this is my companion, Avrael. It is by the will of the Grovemasters we have been sent to escort you to them.” A hint of relief accompanied her words. She appeared to be a decent amount older than Neve judging by her appearance and tone. Avrael’s ears twitched slightly at something seemingly in the distance “My lady, we should not linger her any longer.”

Soriel nodded at her knight’s suggestion “Neve, if you would follow us we shall get you to Brightlam quickly and safely.” There did not seem to be any others of their party as the conversation drew on. The two of them had been acting independently so they were surprised to receive an official request from the Grovemasters.

So these were to be her guides. Neve nibbled on her bottom lip, interlocking her fingers in front of her hips and as she wrung them together. The Grovemasters were serious, then; they really wanted her to come back to Brightlam. A long-winded, shuddering sigh left her lips as her shoulders slouched and she glanced away from them. “Very well,” she said as she turned away and took a few steps toward her chocobo. She took his reigns into her hand and began to lead him back towards Avrael and Soriel.

“Is Brightlam too far from here…?” Neve asked them, glancing between the two as she reapproached. “I’ve been traveling for quite a while, and my rations are running low. I don’t remember passing this village on the way to Edren…”

“Avrael, retrieve our Chocobos please.” “Yes, my lady.” Avrael addressed her with reverence before disappearing into the nearby woods around the village.

Soriel retrieved her masterfully crafted staff from her back and held it in one hand off to her side. “We should make it there in two days at most if we face any obstacles.” The older white mage took up position next to Neve as she guided them onto the road that would take them to their destination. “Speaking of Edren, what happened on your journey?” She asked with a kind, soft tone. Soriel was less interested in gathering intelligence and moreso asking about her health.

Avrael returned to the two waiting ladies with Chocobos with muted green feathers with a large number of saddlebags attached. He gave a simple nod of acknowledgement and handed the reins of one over to Soriel before taking the lead in the formation.

Two days; it felt like such a long time, but in retrospect, it was not too much of a trek, especially on chocobo-back. Neve glanced back at where Avrael had disappeared into the wood before she motioned for her own steed to approach. The Edren chocobo sauntered over in a lazy gait, warking in what sounded like a complaint. She felt bad for the poor thing. They had been traveling over rough terrain for the better part of a day, if not more. It deserved rest, but for now, they had to keep on moving.

Neve slid back onto the beast’s saddle, perking up at Soriel’s question. “Much,” she sighed, digging her heels into her chocobo’s sides and forcing it into a steady trot. “Valheim has attacked Edren, seeking the life of its king. Blightbeasts have attacked us on the road as we traveled to Midgar. I never thought they’d make it this far west.”

The three of them made a good pace as they passed through once overgrown paths and hidden passages. Soreil’s head lowered at the mention of the incident in Edren. Was it their intent to weaken Edren’s position and power before they committed to an invasion of Dranu Asnaeu? Drana’s border with the occupied Osprey had become a virtual wasteland due to numerous Blightbeast incursions that drained more and more of the country’s strength. Soriel was unsure what they would be able to due once Valheim decided to invade in earnest

“That is quite a lot to go through in such a short time. It concerns me to hear Valheim making their next move already, but it seems to be resolved for the time being. I thank Etro you were able to return safely.” Soriel warmly spoke, her hands tightly wrapped around the reins of her Chocobo. Her mount seemed to mirror the movements of the one in front which suggested she had her full faith in Avrael’s navigation.

A stench drifted through the air as they continued to make their way a form lying on the side of the road slowly came into view. Avrael raised his hand to motion them to stop before dismounting his Chocobo. With a sword drawn, his head scanned the environment as he approached the now identified Mystrel man. Avrael looked around thoroughly once more once he reached the body before turning back to them “Clear.” He spoke in clear, projected voice.

Soriel’s gaze didn’t budge from the corpse ”There is something I’d like you to see before we move on.” Soriel got off her Chocobo and stepped towards the body. Now that they had gotten close enough the presence of blight within became clear. The Mystrel’s veins had corrupted to a dark black and the flesh had adopted a similar color where he had sustained wounds. The frozen look of agony was enough to understand this was not a painless death “This is the fate that awaits us should the Blight overrun the continent.”

Neve followed wordlessly, nodding as Soriel’s speech reflected her thoughts. Her journey, although short, had been quite the ordeal. Valheim’s attempt on Leonhart’s life was nigh impossible to believe, and the Blightbeasts that prowled the shadows seemed to sprout from the innards of a child’s morbid bedtime story. The silence that permeated the forest as a foul odor permeated the wood; she felt her hackles rise as she felt something gnawing deep within her chest. She bit the inside of her cheek as she watched the male dismount his chocobo, the sound of steel breaking the silence as it was removed from its sheath. Neve’s body tensed as Soriel dismounted, which signaled her to do the same. The woman slid off the saddle of her steed as she approached the horrid sight.

For a long moment, Neve was quiet. She clasped her palms together in front of her chest, bowing her head in a silent prayer to the Mystrel that had fallen victim to the Blight. “Etro… why must you allow your children to fall to this pestilence?” she whispered under her breath. “Please, I beg you… stop this madness.”

She waited for a sign, any sign that their Mother was listening. But the forest was still, and the decay hung thick in the air like a veil of death. Neve sucked in a breath as she looked up at Soriel. “There must be something we can do. The Kirins will bring back the Light– they have to.”

Soriel stood vigilant over Neve as she performed her silent prayer. The blight-stricken corpse was a sight she had seen too often in her battle against the monsters. This had been the reason for the pyre earlier. A portion of the villagers had shown signs of the same disease, nearly all with deep bite marks. When Neve broke her stance, Soriel figured that whatever prayer she had offered had been met with silence “For now, young Neve, we must carry the light within us.”

The older Faye knelt down to the corpse and gently placed both her hands on a mangled arm. Bright, golden light emanated from her palms and the portion her hands were over erupted in a brilliant white flame. The flame moved along the areas afflicted by the Blight cleansing the dark markings as it went along. “It is by the nature of our roles as clerics that we draw upon the power of the light.” She stood up slowly and turned to face Neve again. “Etro has not cast us aside, but for now has delivered a way for us to resist. I can show it to you, if you’d like.”

There was no way to cure someone who had been already infected with the Blight once it reached a critical point. What Soirel had performed was just a means to slow its progress and reverse it if the cleric was strong enough. “Azrael.” One word was enough to convey her intentions to her retainer. Azrael, carrying a torch he ignited earlier, moved to his chocobo and retrieved a small jug. He stepped carefully over to the corpse, twisted the cap off, and slowly poured a dark liquid over the length of its body. He bent down and held the torch close to the head and the entire corpse ignited in a wild inferno. “May you find your way into our mother’s arms once more and find peace.” It was the Knight who spoke the prayer as the corruption burned away.

Soriel gestured to their chocobos and began moving towards her own. “We should continue on our way. I do not wish to be in the grovemasters' service longer than needed.”

Neve watched the older Faye approach the body. Her lips open in protest, hoping to warn her in time before she touched the foul corpse. However, she froze in place once golden light sprouted from her fingers and flowed through the dark veins of the fallen, banishing the taint from the poor Mystrel’s flesh. The sight was akin to a miracle. She couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes away. How? How could she have such magicks to purge the Blight from man’s very blood?

Her eyes followed the strange woman, silent in her presence. Neve hardly realized that she had asked her retainer to set the corpse alight. It was only the voice of the knight that snapped her back to reality. The acrid stench of burning flesh made her wrinkle her nose, and she turned away from the searing corpse. She uttered another prayer under her breath, though she was not aware of the words that flowed from her lips as she spoke towards Soriel.

“Please. Please teach me,” she murmured. “I cannot bear to… to see such things any longer.”

Tears sprang forth from her eyes. Neve looked up towards Soriel, seeing that this woman, this… this sign from Mother, had already started to depart. “I can’t let this happen again.”

Soriel’s pointed ears twitched and barely picked up Neve’s murmurs just as her hands gripped the regions of her chocobo. It had become such a common occurrence for the pair. The sight was hardly shocking and even the smell had lost its punch on her senses. A soft sigh left her lips as she turned back around to face Neve, warmth behind a weary face. “Very well, Neve Shadesbough. I, Soriel of the Wastes, shall teach you what I have learned through pain. May it help avert a tragedy of your own.”

A gentle hand came onto Neve’s shoulder from the senior cleric “You have come this far, but the road ahead is longer still. Do not lose heart. Now that you have requested to be my student, I will show you the next steps.” It was at this moment that Avrael walked past the two having ensured the body’s immolation would not spread “You would be wise to listen carefully. She doesn’t like to repeat herself.” He spoke in a more casual tone and received a sideways glare from the Faye.

Soriel had agreed to teach her. Her willingness surprised her. What she knew seemed difficult to learn– she wouldn’t be surprised if it was some sort of ancient magicks that had been hidden away, if it was that powerful. Neve wondered why the Grovemasters hadn’t told her about such a blessing. Could it be possible that they didn’t know about it? In the midst of her pondering, she felt something heavy lay upon her shoulder. She glanced up at Soriel, her ears perking at her voice, eager to drink in her words. If she was to be her mentor, then she would listen to whatever she had to say, even if her words sounded menial and unimportant. By Etro, she’d even listen to her about what she had for lunch the day prior, if that meant that she could garner some knowledge from it!

”I’m already on it,” Neve told Avarael, shooting him a smile as she approached her chocobo. She wiped the rest of her tears away using the long length of her sleeve before she pulled herself back upon his saddle. ”Shall we get going? I believe we still have much of a ride to Brightlam.”

Arpeggio of Blue Steel: The Phantom Fleet (OPEN)

is this still open?

@SleepyWrites

Yep, first IC post is up but it is still open.

Arpeggio of Blue Steel: The Phantom Fleet

Shinano sat on the front-edge of her airstrip, looking out into the deep blue ocean as the sun began to crest over the horizon. She had learned to enjoy this little moment of time when the sky was streaked with colors of red, pink and orange. It felt like another life-time ago she had left the Fleet of Fog and gone rogue, to pursue a near impossible dream. A smile creased her lips as she remembered the two humans who helped her on her path towards that dream. It was almost embarrassing to recall how much effort it took to think the way she does now. The beautiful and traditional-style black kimono that she typically wore reflected this. War no longer interested her. Instead, she wished to find a reason to exist outside of it. She could feel the other ships in her fleet through the closed connection they shared. They were her reason for existing right now. Nothing mattered more than them. That was why they were currently sitting in open waters off the coast of Japan. She had spent enough time hiding from Fleet of Fog, specifically her half-sisters. The prime minister of Japan wished to meet with her and establish a line of trust that would allow them to cooperate in the future. She couldn't imagine the difficulty sending such a communication would have been.

There was only one human in the entirety of the Phantom Fleet: Hayashida Kioshi. A brilliant scientist and engineer, he is the son of Hayashida Shoheiand Hayashida Chisa whose work developed the Stealth Drive. Now he carries on their work by helping to maintain the device while studying the technology of the Fleet of Fog. His technical expertise is also useful for repairing some of the more delicate sub-systems of the fleet that can't simply be repaired with nano-material. Half of his life has been spent aboard Shinano and living with the Phantom Fleet. He is a chronic workaholic and often exhausts himself with maintenance, experiments, and repairs. Despite this, he keeps a jolly attitude and considers all of the mental models to be his close friends. He has a particular obsession with Shinao's Super Gravity Cannon and constantly requests a live-firing of the weapon, despite Shinano's persistent rejection.

Shinano was currently waiting for a human ship to come from the direction of the mainland. The Prime Minister insisted that the Phantom Fleet stay just off the coast as the meeting was intended to be secretive and their presence might cause a panic. Launching a ship always had a chance to attract the attention of the Fleet of Fog, but the risk was minimal at this distance. Even so, Shinano had the destroyers Le Terrible and Yukikaze to head out on patrol to spot any hostiles. The light cruiser Oakland was in charge of bringing the human ship to Shinano and contacting the rest of the fleet when it arrived.

The ocean remained peaceful until a single vessel could be seen coming from the coastline in a direct interception route to the area where the Phantom Fleet was positioned. Of course if the stealth drive was fully operational, there was no way for the vessel to detect or see them therefore the stealth drive was merely masking their energy signatures. The model of the ship matched the information given by the Japanese Government. A Shimakaze-class destroyer, it was supposed to be one more their newer production missile destroyers. Time had come for the Phantom Fleet to stop running and shift the balance of power.

❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈

Meanwhile...somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

Yamato drifted along with the gentle pull of the sea, her mental model completely submerged just a few meters away from her body's vessel. Here she surrendered all of her movements to the will of the ocean, while she meditated and examined her thoughts. This state of being was most soothing to the leader of the Fleet of Fog.

"I-401, what is the situation." Her regal voice called out to her subordinate, across the seemingly endless waves. A response was almost immediate "A human vessel has left land to meet with Shinano. Her fleet consists of one light cruiser and two destroyers. Should I have Kongo intervene?" The youthful voice of the submarine was monotone and plain. Yamato feel a strange surge of emotions before fighting them back down. It had been years since they had a proper sighting of Shinano, her sister "Maintain surveillance. Try to see what they are up to." Yamato quickly closed the communication link.

She rose quickly to the surface and created a bridge of light up to her deck. It had almost broken her heart when Shinano left the Fleet of Fog and Yamato had promised to bring her back. Now that Shinano appeared to be cooperating with humans, it was clear she was farther gone than she hoped. The 'other her' would have a tough job ahead. Every ship was in the Fleet of Fog was built for a single purpose: War. Diverting from that path would only bring sadness and grief. The water that had soaked into her clothes were pulled out and throw back in to the ocean, leaving Yamato completely dry as she stepped towards the edge of the bow. Tough love was sometimes needed to show a loved one their error. A lesson that Yamato would have to teach her younger sister.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:@Izurich

---

Arton had returned to his room right after the meeting concluded feeling irritated, guilty, but most of all exhausted. There had never been a point he could remember feeling so tired. All the various layers of armor he adorned himself in felt restrictive for the first time and he haphazardly began to peel, rip, and toss pieces off as he made his way to his bed. The entire time he grumbled about the rest of the party so easily accepting Ciradyl's actions. Worse than that, he had spent all those restless night searching for information on Reisa with no real clues to show for it.

He barely made it to the edge of the mattress before he simply collapsed onto the soft sheets. The fight at Mizutani's manor wasn't even that intense but he surmised that it simply his body being so deprived of proper rest. An annoyed sigh came out as he figured he should have had one of Ciradyl's servants fetch him some tea to relax. It was too much to bother now that he already stripped down and laid on the bed. One night. One night of solid sleep was all he asked for. In fact, he muttered a silent prayer to Etro for just enough to get through the next day. The gravity of Ciradyl's schemes circled in his mind as he feel alseep.

---

The elegant carriage rocked gently on the road, the crest of the Auclaire Noble House proudly present on the doors of both sides. There were multiple House Guard riding in front, behind, and alongside the carriage covering any and all possible points of approach. The current head of the Auclaire Noble House was the current Overseer and inside this carriage was his younger brother and his family. They were on their way back to their estate after traveling to the capital to discuss policy amidst the other noble houses.

The younger brother of the overseer was a man named Mathieu. His wife was Helene Auclaire and was sitting next to her husband currently watching over the two little ones across from them. One was their only child, a son named Lionel, and the other was a commoner girl named Furi that they had taken into their household as a companion to Lionel. They had been raising Lionel to one day become Overseer while Furi had received some simple training on her path to become a House Guard. Their hope was that Furi would become an indomitable bodyguard and advisor for their son.

Lionel’s feet dangled off the seat as he kicked them back and forth idly ”Furi, I’m bored!” The young master complained to his friend, much to his mother’s relief. Furi, on the other hand, maintained a good posture and had remained mostly quiet throughout the trip. An idea seemed to flash in her eyes I know, Lio! Let’s play I spy!. A short giggle from the boy was enough for an answer. Lionel pulled up himself up to see out of the carriage’s window ”Okay, I spy with my little eye…”

Within the heavily-guarded carriage of the Skaellan House of Auclaire, the two juveniles - one of noble birth, the other commoner - continued playing their little game. They spied many things; a stationary tree, a young buck prancing about, a climbing squirrel, and even something as minuscule as a chirping songbird, none escaped the notice of the two bright, keen-eyed youngsters.

Thus, it was inevitable that eventually, they spotted a black-clad 'scarecrow' half-hidden behind a trunk.

”...a scarecrow!”

Hold on, a scarecrow...?

Mathieu and Helene's curious bewilderment were abruptly answered as a sigil, multiple sigils activated all at once on ground, right underneath the carriages.

"And... boom~"

What followed next could only be described as an unpleasant surprise as multiple explosions rocked the street, products of the pyromantic spell embedded within the ground-bound sigils. Heat and shockwave in equal measure assaulted the convoy, assaulting men, steeds, and carriage alike. However, despite the sheer potency of the trap, not all of the House Guard personnel perished in the initial blasts, perhaps a testament to the Skaellan House Guard's formidable reputation.

Alas, whoever was orchestrating the attack was intimately familiar with this as the "scarecrow", along with others of its ilk, began aiming their weapons and started firing volleys after volleys of bullets, peppering what was left of the convoy with lethal projectiles, coming at them from all sides.

One of the explosions that struck the family’s carriage shredded one of its doors and threw Mathieu and Helene free from the cabin as it twisted in the air. The twisted wreckage of the carriage skidded to a stop a short distance away.

Lio! Lio! Lio! Get up! Get up! Lio! Furi screamed, or moreso cried, as she shook her friend awake.

She had sustained a few scratches on her arms and legs but was otherwise okay. Lionel, on the other hand, seemed to have hit his head if the small trail of blood coming from his forehead indicated. Furi might have been crippled by fear of the thunderous sounds outside if not for him. Relief washed over her for a brief moment as he opened his eyes weakly ”Furi…? His confusion did not last long as a stray shot struck off the side of the carriage.

It might have been safer to stay inside but there was a problem. Smoke had begun to rise into the cabin from under the carriage ”Come on, Lio!

The street was littered with shredded bodies and torn up carriages. What paltry force remained moved in on the two nobles that had been flung from their carriage in the initial attack. They were taking too many losses, too quick but at the very least they had to get their charges out of the area. A larger House Guard practically pulled the two into cover and Mathieu resisted him despite his severe injuries “The kids!” That was about all he could think to say. None of the situations made sense to him even if his ears weren’t ringing already. The larger man clicked his tongue. He never did get the chance to voice any kind of displeasure as a rifle round silenced any chance of that happening. There was nowhere to hide.

Though many thoughts raced through Mathieu's mind, other than the concern for his loved ones, one certainly reigned above the others; ambushes and assassination attempts were to be expected amongst nobility, the House Guard corps would be a redundant waste of manpower and resources otherwise, but this particular one had been so precise, so unexpected, it felt as if their enemy knew every little details of their routine; the exact route they were going to take, their schedule, and even down to how many personnel would be employed for the trip. The most obvious conclusion to this was the likely possibility of a mole being involved. Regardless, none of this would matter if they perish today.

Volley after volley continued relentlessly, and it had only gotten worse as explosives were thrown into the mix, landing amidst the wreckage before promptly erupting, massacring anyone who might still be alive and as a final insult to injury, mutilating those who were already corpses into splattered chunks of gore and viscera.

Only a singular minute had passed since the sigils activated and already, most of the entourage was either dead or incapacitated. Smoke and debris filled the air, obscuring vision. But eventually, the bullets and bombs stopped coming.

... ... ...

Mathieu coughed harshly, spewing blood as his broken body held on to dear life. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the unmoving form of his beloved wife Helene, while his son and adopted daughter were nowhere to be seen. And then, footsteps, light and dainty, as if a dancer meticulously waltzing in-between the strewn corpses and debris, close yet never touching. Then they stopped right in front of the dying noble. His eyes widened in recognition, but before he could utter a single word, a glinting razor-sharp stiletto silenced him...

His murderer curled a loving smile even as her other hand caressed the dead noble's cheek, "Don't you worry, milord, I won't let your son be an orphan, I'll send him to you and your dear wife soon, fufu~" The killer whispered before she stood up, swiped the blood clean from her small blade, then continued on her way, searching for her next victim to fulfill her promise. Now, if only there was a convenient way to locate him... aha~

Meanwhile, the young Lionel would hear the pained groans and whimpers of his mother, ”My son... where’s my son...?” She rasped, desperately seeking her one and only child.

The first one to emerge from the overturned carriage was Furi. She reached down into the carriage, after climbing up herself, and pulled Lionel up with all her might onto the top with her. He was still a little unsteady with his footing but was able to stand with her support. Her eyes, like gleaming rubies, looked over the carnage when she spotted Loki and her face lost all color. “Lio, we need to go. Lio!” A small hand tugged on the noble’s son's arm, trying to pull him away before he saw it.

MAMAAA!!! Lionel cried, tearing away from Furi’s attempt to hold him back.

Lionel clumsily climbed down the side of the carriage as Furi desperately tried to get his attention again. He nearly stumbled over himself as he ran over to his mother. His face was flushed and tears streamed down his cheeks as he knelt next to her. Furi stood next to him as he interacted with the corpse as though his mother was still alive, hanging on by a thread. Lionel’s childish mind seemed unable to process the cruel reality in front of him. Furi realized something that sent shivers down her spine. There was no way Helene said those words in the state her body was in

Furi was more athletic than her friend but his raw strength was enough to tear away and end up closer to that monster. Her chest ached with how fast her heart was beating and every part of her wanted to run away. The carnage and horror around her was blocked out so she could summon the courage to at least move her feet. A vile sensation crawled through her skin as she felt the eyes of an apex predator fall onto her as she took position out in front of Lionel. Trembling hands held up a shortsword with a determined look in her eyes. What stared her down was a monster in human skin.

Furi! Why- Lionel cried out in confusion as he looked up at her. It was the sight of the one beyond that caused him to freeze with fear. The very air felt heavy with the looming threat of death.

Hook, line, and sinker, all it took was a little mimicry and the lamb came all by himself, right into his own slaughter. The murderer of two of House Auclaire's finest was about to add yet another entry into her list. At least, that was her plan until a tiny girl stood between her and her prey. Oh, how cute~ The lamb had a guardian pup. Right, this child was 'Furi', wasn't it? Some commoner that the late Duke adopted to be molded into his son's watchdog. Reports said they treated Furi like their own daughter, a lowborn... yet living the life of nobility, how... preposterous.

It was almost as if the gods played a cruel joke on her, in fact, they most certainly did. Well, two can play that game.

Twirling the stiletto in her right hand, the thin blade glinted as the unidentified assailant curled a most wicked grin, "Alas, if only you know how much your courage is wasted serving these decadent fools." She cooed, like a demented child who couldn't wait to pluck the wings off a fly then letting it live, "Honestly, I pity you, pup, so I might just let you live." A lie? No, certainly not, "Step aside and let me finish my hunt, or you can die together with him..." But this one was, at least half of it.

Furi drowned out everything around here except for the avatar of death in front of her. Burning wrecks of the carriages they rode in. Gore strewn about violently in all directions. Corpses of people she knew and cherished. Anguished cries of the one she was chosen to protect. The beating of her own, trembling heart. She could let nothing in lest she lock up and become another body for the pile. Her grip tightened around the shortsword, that felt so heavy now, until her knuckles turned white.

Loki’s words had sent shivers down her spine, enough to nearly bring her to tears. The fear was so intense it left little room for anger. Furi, however, had already made up her mind. ”RUUNNN, LIO!!! Her little lungs screamed so hard she could feel her vocal cords strain as she made the first move. Furi charged towards Loki pointing her sword’s tip towards her chest. She didn’t bother to look to see if he had followed her command.

"Oh my my~" This little puppy still had fight in her, hmm, perhaps Mathieu and Helene weren't completely clueless after all, there's a reason why they bothered adopting this commoner who'd otherwise be beneath their notice. Heh, she could use this... yes, what would be a better irony than sending an attack dog after its own masters? But this one was still an infant, she required more... polish.

However, there was nothing saying they couldn't start early.

"Come, pup! Entertain me!"

For the next minute or two, surrounded by smoke, debris, flames, and fresh corpses, Loki humored Furi's pitiful attempts at protecting the only descendant of Mathieu's lineage. The significantly taller and older Sollan danced around the wounded young girl's clumsy footwork, smirking, chuckling, and dare she could say, even enjoying herself. At times, the assassin grazed her blade close yet not quite touching Furi's skin, making it clear that she could've ended this at any time and it was only through the kindness of her heart that she hadn't.

Eventually, Loki grinned, "Congratulations, you've passed." Then with a solid smack, she chopped the child's neck hard enough to incapacitate her, yet soft enough to keep her alive.

With Furi out of the way, the assailant turned her attention to Lionel, a most sadistic leer on her visage as she stepped closer to the boy, savoring every single second. She drank in the boy's terror and despair, relishing in the power she had over these detestable nobles, not so high-and-mighty now, were they? Loki bent forward, smiling with faux affection, placed her lips right beside Lionel's ear, then cooed...

"The Garden sends their regards..."

The young noble had cried out his friend’s name as her body fell onto the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks. Everything in this moment burned into the deepest reaches of his mind as Loki approached him, unable to deny reality any longer. He wished he had been a better son for his parents. He wished he had listened properly to his tutors and elders when they tried to teach him something. He wished he hadn’t taken Furi’s companionship for granted.

He fell backwards catching him with his arms and slowly crawled back, unwilling to take his eyes off Loki for a moment but unable to run away. Lionel flinched when she bent down and felt a terrible chill run down his neck at her words. His body trembled but the fear was too great to even utter a sound. Bright blue eyes closed tight preparing himself for whatever pain came with death.

Alone, helpless, and terrified, she almost felt pity for the pathetic whelp crawling beneath her, just almost, as the thought of the boy's noble blood brought upon such vindictive hatred to Loki that it drowned everything else out. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to purge this malignant tumor upon the world, let one live and they'd multiply like rats; their extermination must be complete, down to the last man, woman, and last but not least, child.

“Head down!” A sharp, male voice pierced the air. Lionel barely caught a glimpse of the metal that slashed for Loki.

Loki’s assailant was one of the greatest agents to ever come out of the Garden. A bonafide living legend if half of the stories told about him were true. Those same stories reportedly said that the man, Cyth, was supposed to be retired yet here he was. His face was devoid of any meaningful expression but he had clearly put power into his strike.

"...?!!" The assassin was so engrossed in toying with her prey, and then made worse by the sheer skill displayed by the former agent, that she nearly fell victim to Cyth's strike, and only through the unintended side-effect of his warning that she could manage to keep her head by leaning back, the blade grazing her skin and cutting a few locks of blonde hair. "...!" She gritted her teeth, immediately recognizing who he was, Cyth, a living legend in the world of espionage, what was he doing here? Why now? When she was so, so close to finishing the job!

Unwilling to face the risk of being identified, or worse, captured, Loki deemed that a direct confrontation with the ex-SEED was folly and made the split-second decision to salvage what she could. Without another word, literally so, the turncoat turned tail and retreated, but not before grabbing the unconscious Furi with her. Fret not, she'd turn this setback into a future advantage.

She promised him that...

Cyth clicked his tongue in aggravation as Loki fled with the unconscious Furi unable to get a solid look at her. He may have been inclined to pursue but that would leave the young lord vulnerable to her allies. Lionel briefly stopped crying as the sudden presence of Cyth registered in his mind. Cyth groaned as he hoisted Lionel up and over his shoulder, not wanting to deal with potential reinforcements “Hang on, kid.” He said before taking off in the opposite direction from Loki.

He sat the young lord down on a wooden crate once they had gotten some distance from the attack site. Heavy eyes looked down on the sobbing child “What do I do with you…?”

---

A cold sweat trickled down the sides of his face as Arton lurched forward, his pitched breathing causing his lungs to suck in air and expel it just as fiercely. His right hand rose to cup his face and squeeze, desperately trying to regain his composure. What an intense night terror. He had been taken back to that awful place again. A severe queasiness overcame him as the rest of his body caught up and he reached for the nearest bucket and hurled.

Why now...why show me this..? But there was no one present that could answer him.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

And
Esben Mathiassen

---

Before too much more of the night had passed them by, the party had finished their roundabout discussions, those who’d been unable to force any food down before assaulting the mansion enjoying a small supper before they all retired from the meeting. Most paid at least a quick visit to the bathhouses within the safehouse complex, Esben among them—while his hair had been remarkably well cleaned by Eve’s bit of magic, that still left the rest of him to wash. Not long after he’d settled in his room, all of Mizutani’s papers he’d managed to find spread on the low table before him, scanning through them once more while setting the most recent span of events straight in his mind.

Luckily, he’d long since taken to journaling his days extensively; while it did make for extra writing to do whenever he had to draft his reports, it was remarkably handy when it came to making sure every important detail was accounted for. He’d just finished writing down the day’s events, flipping back to just after they’d rescued Hien, when he heard a knock on the frame of the room’s sliding door. The relative lack of noise from whoever it was ruled out quite a few possibilities, as the majority of the team wasn’t quiet enough to go so unnoticed, nor were the servants; among those left, fewer still were naturally so soft footed, and the one that was wouldn’t have bothered knocking, as she wouldn’t have come unless called.

Two options left. The silhouette through the thin door lacked one particularly defining pair of features, though their homologues weren’t visible...likely her head was turned.

”Come in, Ciradyl.”

The sliding of the door produced more noise than her footsteps did and she slipped inside the room, closing it behind her. She gracefully made her way over to the same seat she had taken the last time they spoke and sat across from him. Ciradyl wore a flowing, pastel pink-coloured nightgown that she smoothed out underneath as she made herself comfortable. A light floral scent came from her and her hair had a light dampness. Her delicate, dainty hands bore the signs she might have been soaking for longer than recommended.

“Thank you for what you said.” Her tone indicated that it was more of a courtesy than what she actually wanted to speak about.

She wouldn’t deny that she felt a bit of affection for the Skaellan after he eloquently defended her, but it didn’t take much to dismiss the feelings. Ciradyl's gaze lowered to the documents he was shifting through, likely searching for information that would support their efforts against Valheim or bolster Skael's position. It was not that she didn't like him at all. Quite the contrary, she appreciated his odd but professional demeanour and had deemed him a person she could depend on.

“I suppose I should be honored to receive such a positive review by one of Skael's finest.” There was a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion carried by her words.

Esben’s report remained unwritten for the time as Ciradyl came in and sat across from him. For a moment, he’d wondered just what the purpose of the visit was likely to be, especially as she thanked him for his input earlier, gaining a small nod in response...though between her tone, and the clearly flattering comment that came after, those wonders slipped away. The practiced grace, refined bearing, perfumed scent, those were all hallmarks to be expected of an upper class artist; but there had long since been more to Ciradyl than just the singer she had been before.

Alongside that, once again she chose to visit him in her bed clothes. The article was something befitting her status, certainly, but wearing it to such a meeting was still beyond what would be considered professional, proprietous, or even simply friendly.

”Are you trying to catch me off guard?” he asked, the flattery going unacknowledged, the well-fit, dainty nightgown ignored aside from the initial glance to note its presence. ”Or were you hoping to gain something from me that your closest friend can’t give you?”

She shrugged her shoulders in a small motion and replied to the first question. “Perhaps, if it were so easy.“ It did confirm something for her. What he asked next made her eyes widen for a moment before she brushed it off. He was someone who had been trained at the famous Garden so she had been intrigued with how he operated. There seemed to be a clear separation between work and personal matters. In fact, she wondered if she had ever seen him take a break from so-called professional conduct since they first met. “Hmm. Perspective, perhaps. You gave me much to consider last time, after all.”

Was it better to be Ciradyl the Bard or Ciradyl the Spy in her dealings with Esben? She might be able to coax more of what lies underneath with the former option. The latter one would likely be more appropriate given their relationship and how he seemed to carry himself. “I wear this nightgown simply because you fail to offer a meaningful reaction to it. I find it comforting in a strange way. Ignoring that, It seems as though we will be working together moving forward.” Her tone had fallen into the way she had conducted herself prior to the Mizutani incident. The bard and spy were both facets of her being and she had to learn to accept that. Unlike Izayoi, the one Esben would get to know would be the spy.

Esben tilted his head to the side in a show of mild curiosity at her response, before giving an approving nod at the answer. Managing to give a reply without rising to any provocation was a useful skill for anybody, although he had noticed the slight, momentary widening of her eyes, and the short pause gathering her thoughts before she replied. Evidently, though, she hadn't understood quite what he was getting at behind the question.

Not unexpected, given everything else that night. ”You've been under quite a bit of stress lately,” he stated quietly. An obvious observation to make for anybody with eyes to see. ”And we're leaving in little more than a day. You should be relaxing, not talking about how much we're about to work together.”

Had he had a pot with him, he'd have offered her a cup of tea—instead, he at least kept two cups ready with the pitcher of water on the table, pouring one for Ciradyl. ”I don't know that the perspective I can offer will be something you'll particularly like, though I'm still happy to help where I can. But I did mean what I said earlier with everything about how you must be feeling through all of this.”

“How I am feeling…?” It caught her off-guard. Right. A strong mental state was necessary to maintain peak performance during operations. That must have been what he had meant. She took a sip of the water he had poured for her, holding it with both hands. Regardless, she wanted to focus on something else thus her desire to discuss strategy, methods, or anything. Anything to take her mind off it all. Couldn’t he guess such a simple motive? Her grip on the cup tightened. No. He knew, and worse of all he was right.

The only ones that could see right through her like this were Chisaki and Izayoi. This business with Mizutani and coming to face her past had clearly clouded her judgement. “I do appreciate the sentiment and concern. As for now, talking with you is helping take my mind off things.” A darkness coloured her expression briefly as she thought of Renzo. She had given Chisaki clear instructions to end his life with as much honour and dignity that could be given. That was likely happening right about now. His death…would haunt her the most out of all she put to the blade.

Her expression eased back into a gentle one. “If you are able to read through all of those, you might know me better than Izayoi,” Ciradyl mused while taking a second sip. Their conversations reminded her a lot of how it was back then. There was rarely small talk and they hadn’t begun to know personal details about each other until quite a bit later.

”Whoever Mizutani Tane thought you were, perhaps, though I have my doubts as to whether or not that actually lets me know you.” With a quick and practiced hand, he swept the splayed-out documents back into a neat pile, clearing up the space on the small table. ”I still think Izayoi will have the rest of us beat when it comes to that. But, given that you prefer to take your mind off of tonight’s topics—”

His journal snapped shut, and he laid it alongside the documents taken from Mizutani’s office and his actual ledger. ”Why don’t you talk about how you got to know Izayoi, what the both of you were like back then?”

Ciradyl simply shrugged her shoulders again, thinking that there was likely insight into her character through the tinted glasses of Mizutani. Actually, a bit of colour came to her cheeks wondering exactly what Mizutani had written. She wanted to move past that topic of conversation so she decided to agree with his proposal.

”It was actually because of Mizutani that we became friends. I had gone to a tea shop I loved to frequent and there was no tables available. I saw Izayoi sitting alone so I decided to join her.” She giggled lightly. ”As you might imagine, she wasn't much for conversation but I didn't mind. Our reputations in Osprey were on the rise at the time so it was pleasant to enjoy a comfortable silence. We mused over some shared liking of bergamot tea when a group of brigands barged into the tea shop.” It was one of her fondest memories.

”They were henchmen of Mizutani sent to abduct me and Izayoi came to my defence so I’ll just let you picture what happened. From there, we met regularly at the same table at the same tea shop. We would speak honestly with each other and lament our personal trials.” Light faded from her eyes once again for a split moment.

”Mmm. The war with Edren, yes?” He declined to offer any comment on the giggle she had, remembering the time she’d nearly been kidnapped as one of her fondest memories. He’d overheard Izayoi describing him as eccentric too many times just to the other members of the Kirins to lay too much judgement at that. ”I can’t imagine you’d really gone into this trade at that point.”

”No, my contributions were taking people’s minds off the war and later helping the sick and wounded when the war turned for the worse. My name had just begun to spread outside of Osprey when the war with Edren began. Each time I would meet with Izayoi there seemed to be a darker shadow lingering over her…so I began to tease her that I had started putting her deeds into ballads. I think if I were ever to perform one in front of her she would take my head.” A lamenting sigh escaped her lips and then when she realised the next step in the story she faltered. The mask of cheerfulness she had been donning shattered.

”Izayoi’s reported death was difficult to bear. The one person I trusted and cherished the most was gone. I may have been able to grieve and move on had it not been Valheim’s subsequent invasion. Our nation’s greatest champion had perished and there was no one left to hold it all together. I started taking out those who either did or would betray our nation, which is what led me to Chisaki. It was not long before I realised it would not be enough just to take out a few persons of interest here and there. The mission scope soon grew larger than I had ever imagined.” She stopped there. The cup was empty yet she still held it tightly in her hands.

From which, everything clearly led into what they had all just discussed, a topic which was—as could only be expected—still bothering her, despite the fact that the team all understood. It was as he and the others had said, regarding such feelings of guilt. ”Mmm. Been tense for a while, haven’t you?” He slid the pitcher of water across the table, a clear expectation for her to pour herself another glass, before standing up from his cushion.

Then, pushing a small chest over behind Ciradyl. ”Do you mind? It’ll be hard enough for you to sleep if you don’t manage to relax your neck and shoulders somehow.”

Her eyes lowered to the pitcher and poured more water into the cup, finally releasing the death-like grip she had been exerting on it. ”There have not been many opportunities to relax.” Even now, there was a part of her that was on edge. What if Chisaki failed? Esben unexpectedly standing dislodged this thought before it could take root. Ciradyl froze for a split-second at the implications of his words, looking at him with something she had never expressed before even as the truth about her actions became known. Fear.

”I-I would hate to trouble you. I-I was not planning on sleeping much.” What a pathetic excuse, she thought. It might have been natural to refuse exposing a weak-point to one with a known SEED association but her trepidation had nothing to do with a potential assassination.

Esben raised an eyebrow at the sudden change. ”It’s no trouble, Ciradyl. I won’t push if you’re so uncomfortable, but it’s like you said—we are going to be working together quite a bit, and that includes taking care of each other’s needs, like making sure you can relax enough to get the rest you need.”

Embarrassing was not even a word that could accurately fit in this situation. Why was it this hard to get a read on this Skaellan? First, he had so casually sat against her during the meeting and now…what was he even offering? No, she had to collect herself and project the presence held by one of her station. ”You would use my own words against me? Fine. You may go ahead if you think it will help.” But it was all a front. Her whole body seemed to tense up.

Esben took a seat on the chest as she turned back away, shaking his head. ”Really, it’s not half so combative as you make it sound,” he chided, raising his fingers up to the base of Ciradyl’s skull and beginning to gently massage the taut muscles in her neck. ”You’ll make sure to tell me if anything hurts, ja? Otherwise, feel free to keep talking if you’re comfortable, I’ll still be listening.”

Ciradyl couldn’t help but tense the muscles further the moment his fingers touched, but slowly relaxed as he carried on. The anxiety that swirled in her chest remained but she could bear it. Esben couldn’t have been more wrong. This was indeed a battle though one she alone was fighting. The longer it went on, however, the easier it seemed to be and the more she relaxed her shoulders. ”I shall let you know if it does.

It was difficult to continue where she had left off with her mind racing as it was. Trains of thought came and went as she tried to figure out the right words. That was when a question of her own came to mind. ”Esben. How do you divide your personal life and work?” It was a frank question that didn’t conceal hidden objectives.

Esben silently continued to work at Ciradyl's slowly-softening muscles with his fingertips, moving from her neck to her shoulders. ”My personal life,” he echoed quietly, his subdued voice sounding lost in thought for the moment. His hands continued to knead at her shoulders even as it became clear his thoughts were trending elsewhere, though before Ciradyl could have reason to worry about his response he started to speak up again.

”I enjoy the small conversations I can have, like this, or like with Eve, Izayoi, all of you—but I'd be lying if I said my occupation here was ever far from my mind. Often, you all manage to turn things back in that direction before long.” His hands came to a stop, resting lightly on the Faye's shoulders. One finger on his right hand started tapping rhythmically, mindlessly.

Before he started to massage her shoulders again, catching a knot under one thumb. ”I haven't had much of one for a while, I think. Not since I began to study at the Garden...there's only so much time in the day, after all. What about you?”

Her eyes closed half-way, thankful that she was facing away from so he couldn’t see her tired expression. The tension releasing from her shoulders had indeed brought sleep closer. It became a struggle to keep her focus on what Esben had been saying. Perhaps she struggled because it sounded so familiar. Was there even a divide present or had they become hopelessly intertwined? ”Me? I do not believe I have had the luxury of a personal life since Valheim invaded, but moments like this give me hope that might change.”

A nearly quiet yawn escaped from her as her drowsiness began to take hold. ”I think I shall retire for the night. It would be improper of me to fall asleep here.” She turned her head back slightly with a smile and slowly rose back to her feet. ”Thank you for listening, Esben.” Was all that was spoken as she briefly turned to face him, gave a light curtsy, and headed for the door.

Esben raised his eyebrow again as she walked for the door. ”So that's improper, but visiting me in your bed clothes isn't?” he mused, playing along with the joke for the moment. ”If it helps, feel free to visit me any time, Ciradyl.”

Ciradyl took a step from the door after it closed, froze, and slowly turned back to the door. The possibility of catching something not meant for her ears intrigued her. Her hand absent-mindedly reached out and felt the grain of the wooden frame on her fingertips. She uttered a quiet scoff and pulled her hand back and proceeded on her way, a slightly warm feeling in her cheeks.

He stood from his makeshift stool, pushing the small chest back against the wall where it had been, taking his actual seat again as he pulled his journal back over and opened it again, flipping through a few pages towards the back of the book. Just as he kept good notes on each day's major events, he'd long since taken to putting down notes about those he travelled with—even if only to make sure he didn't risk forgetting something that may be important. Given that Ciradyl was going to be joining them for the foreseeable future, it only made sense to push sleep off a bit further to add a new page. Not that sleep had been terribly forthcoming in the last few days. Tired in the day, restless at night...

And the intermittent headaches that continued to plague him, despite what Miina and the local healer they'd found had done to try and alleviate any remaining symptoms, one of which had decided the last half of that conversation had been the best time to start coming in.

Esben pushed an offending lock of hair out from his eyes, focusing down on the page before him. ”Maybe telling Eve she didn't need to check in on me tonight was a poor decision,” he wondered to himself as he started to write again.