Ithradine

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:

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Ciradyl had broken off soon after the group made arrangements to meet up plater after the small incident at the docks. It had been years since she had visited her parents' homeland and nearly just as long since she had a day just for herself. It was indulgent, sure, but she was going to let loose a little. Costa del Sol was familiar yet foreign all the same. She compared the architecture and fashion to her previous knowledge, noting the obvious and subtle details alike. Ciradyl stopped at a local cafe along the way and simply listened in on passing gossip. Something rose from the darker corners of her mind that frightened her. There was a shadow of anger at its people that lingered close behind her apparent joy. The corners of her mouth trembled to resist turning into a grimace. Ciradyl paid her bill and fled as soon as he could from the cafe.

Emotions collided with logic as she walked through the busy streets once more, ignoring the various glances cast her way. It felt like a great weight pressing down on her chest and taking her breath away. Her knuckles turned white as they grasped the fabric of her dress in ball around her chest. Ciradyl stepped to the side and began to take deep, long breaths while slowly releasing her grip. What a foolish mistake to set off on her own. Time had yet to the given her the grace to act properly with her newfound freedom.

---

Ciradyl curtsied deeply to the grovemasters after Miina and Rudolf had finished speaking, adorned in the finest dress she had acquired in Costa del Sol. "My companions speak with the sentiments and wisdom of our humble party. Please heed their warnings and accept that your struggles against Valheim and the Blight have been a mere prelude to a far more sinister plot. We would not present ourselves before your mercy and insight if we did not believe the situation to be dire." Her head had been lowered in reverence for the entire duration and only deigned to look up at them once she had concluded her speech. Truth be told she did not have the greatest hope for these proceedings. The grove masters were notoriously set in their ways and resistant to change much like the titanic trees in which they made their cities.

Her gaze turned over to Arton, who seemed rather keen on avoiding drawing any attention to himself. Nothing had concerned her more within their group than the sudden shift in his demeanor. Ciradyl knew little of the swordsman and had little interest in correcting that, but even she could tell that something was amiss.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

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In the midst of the dead of night and beneath the low-hanging moon, the Scurvy Fishman was eerily quiet. All that sounded was the groggy to-and-fro of the hull cresting the waves and the gentle snores of sleeping crewmates. It was far past a young lady’s bedtime, although Neve could not bring herself to sleep. Her mind was restless, her thoughts bouncing along the inside of her skull like frazzled birds caught in the height of a tempest. Although her cot called to her, begging her to sleep and enter the land of dreams, the young woman was wont to pace about the deck of the sleepy ship. One name drifted along her worries.

Arton.

Izayoi had mentioned he was unwell. How unwell, Neve couldn’t bring herself to ask. There were many things that could make people unwell. A sickness. A chronic illness. A Blight. The concern among the crewmates’ and the others’ faces was enough to drive a stake through her heart. And when Neve’s aching body and relentless mind refused to rest, she found herself rapping upon the door to the swordsman’s quarters.

”Please tell me you are awake, Arton.”

There was a brief pause from the other side. A faint groan broke the silence as did the creak of floorboards as he got up.”Yeah…yeah. I’m up alright.” The tired voice drew closer as did his footsteps until they seemed right at the door. A metallic click echoed through the hall as the bolt was removed and the door pulled towards his room. He hadn’t recognized the voice through the door and other ambient noise. ”N-neve? What are…you doing up?” It came as quite a surprise to see her here at this hour.

Dark bags hung underneath his eyes, dulling the color of what had been a vibrant pair of blue eyes the last time Neve had seen him. His dark brown hair was a bedraggled mess from repeated tossing and turning as night terrors ravaged his few moments of sleep. A thicker linen tunic covered his upper body while a pair of looser pants accompanied it.

Arton had heard that when you go for so long with sleep you start to hallucinate. That was the first thought that had come to his mind when he first spotted Neve. The happiness at being reunited had overcome the fatigue that afflicted him now. It had taken every bit of his strength not to lift her into the air, but it had been temporary in the end. Arton had retreated to his quarters more and more as the state of his condition became more widely known. Now the one person he really didn’t want seeing him like this was looking straight at him.

Neve didn’t know what to expect when Arton finally opened the door, but it definitely wasn’t this. The woman stared hard at the swordsman, her gaze sweeping him up and down as she entered his room. Slowly, as if not to disturb the tense silence that had passed between them, she closed the door behind her. There was a dense feeling in the air besides the quiet, one that soured the back of her throat and caused the hairs at the back of her neck to prickle. There was no mistaking the smell, the look in Arton’s eyes. The Blight had taken hold of him.

”What’s… what’s happened to you?” she whispered, stepping closer. Her gaze peered into his own.

He felt he was burning under her discerning eye and nearly winced. It had been enough to blame fatigue or even sea sickness, but even he knew the others were beginning to suspect something. Arton knew it was futile to send her away now and moved further into his room to allow her in. It was not as though he had the energy right now to protest.

The atmosphere felt far more intense than when he spoke with Eliane about Reisa.

Those eyes of hers were near impossible to meet but he managed somehow. ”It's, uh, been a hell of a time since you left. I guess I'm still trying to get used to it. An obvious lie that he forced a laugh in a vain attempt to pass it off as a joke. Regret immediately filled him. Under her relentless gaze, he turned his head away in shame at his attempted deception. ”Sorry. I haven't slept much since the party entered Osprey.”

Neve cocked her head at him. She didn’t understand him. How could he be so nonchalant about the rot that spread through his blood? He festered before her, and yet he chose to ignore the Blight that slowly destroyed him. She didn’t know whether to yell at him or weep for him. She bit the inside of her cheek, holding her hands together in front of her as her eyes skimmed his frame.

”You… are in so much pain,” she whispered. Her gaze locked on his face again, though this time her eyebrows sunk down towards her eyes and her lips pursed together. ”Show me. Please.”

The way that she looked at him made him feel uneasy. He had pushed through the fatigue brought about by this corruption through grit and a fierce determination to keep this party safe. Why, then, was she looking at him like? What was there even to be done? The healing potions he had been purchasing to carry him through had stopped being effective.

Her quiet words caught him off-guard and he felt his chest grow tight. A wide-eyed expression looked back at her. Pain. It had become so familiar he almost didn't notice it. That was unusual. Neve had only just returned and he was already causing her trouble. His eyes narrowed at her question and his hand instinctively touched his left shoulder.

His hand trembled there, torn whether to grant the request or cast her out. The memory of the aftermath at the King's castle passed through his mind. Neve would have been the first one he came to if something like this had happened during their journey together. Did he want to shield her from the truth or was a part of him bitter she had left in the first place? It might have been both.

Arton's dulled blue eyes stared intently at her for a moment before he let out an exhausted sigh. Without a word, he undid the fastenings of his tunic and slid it over his head before tossing it aside. Numerous scars decorated his body, some rather severe, but the majority had been received before he joined Team Kirin. Arton turned his back to her and dropped to one knee then the other. There she could see it. A vicious, gnarly bite scar that had long since gone a dark black. Vein-like trials extended from its center towards his chest and all halfway down the arms. “Satisfied?” The word sharpened to a fine edge.

Neve’s eyes did not move from Arton as he undressed; at that moment, she did not care much for the very fact that he had disrobed in front of her. Her sights locked in on the black taint upon his back, its long, spindly arms trailing over his skin. Its stench became near unbearable now, drawing the bile from the very back of her throat. It almost made her expel her dinner from that night. Arton… what has happened to you?

”How… How did this happen?” Neve said, her voice a dismal hiss as she stepped closer. She was frightened to touch it. If she tried to heal it, even, then what was going to happen? The blonde mage shook her head. ”Couldn’t you have been a bit more careful when I was gone?!”

Arton stared at the blank, wooden wall with furrowed brows. It was a small blessing that was what he had been facing instead of Neve’s discerning eyes. He was a dead man walking. Maybe he’s always been. A life on borrowed time. Arton hunched forward hearing that question. Feeling the shock of her words. He couldn’t answer. Not truthfully. One memory seemed to blend into the next and it was hard to think this exhausted. His head lowered in silence. He was a fool. That was how it happened. An idealistic fool too far enveloped in the myth of his own invincibility.

A dozen slain blight-beasts scattered the damp forest ground and yet he had not won. Two bloodied and mangled corpses stood out from the rest. They had been bigger idiots than him, putting their faith in his leadership. His armor was in tatters and was barely holding together as he stared down the maw of a lion-like blight-beast. One final attack. One last desperate move to ensure his allies’ deaths were not in vain. Pushing off one foot, he lunged with his blade and so too did the blight-beast. The expected swipe of rotted claws never came and instead his shoulder ignited with a searing pain as the fangs of the monster sunk in. The weight of its body was trying to pin him down but he planted his feet, screaming in defiance. His blade sunk into his chest and he tossed it onto its side, slipping a dagger from sheath on his chest and sinking it into the exposed neck.

It had happened shortly before the call from Edren’s King reached him. Those miserable days on his own when he had made the mistake of letting others follow him. High quality potions had been enough to offer relief for a time but shortly after leaving for Osprey the Blight had spread too far.

It felt like she had already given up on him once before, but there had been hope. Now a burning, seething anger bubbled within. His hands balled into tight fists and forced his rage through his knuckles into the coarse wooden floor. ”I have done the best I can while you were off doing gods know what! I’ve done everything I can to keep this party alive so forgive me if I got a bit reckless! Everyday I hoped you would make your way back to us and now you’re talking like I already died!” Arton yelled as he moved off his knees and stood, turning around to face Neve. Blight had without a doubt started to take him but there was a separate darkness in those eyes. He squeezed his balled-up fists hard and released a portion of that anger.

”The bite happened before we met. Nothing you would have been able to do anyway. Animosity tinged his words as he walked away from her and picked up his tunic, setting it on his bed properly. He didn’t understand where all this rage was coming from. Neve didn’t deserve this from him. It was getting harder and harder to keep under control.

The creak of the wooden ship filled the quiet that befell between them, and the moans of the hull served well to wrap invisible tendrils of worry around her stomach. It was almost like Arton didn’t plan on answering her– why, she did not know– until he raised his arms and slammed balled-up fists into the wooden floor. The sound of knuckles hitting a solid surface was enough to make her jump in alarm. Neve took a step back, shrinking away at the roar of his words. He was so… angry. So frightened. If only she knew about his wound before she left, she could have maybe healed the bite. Perhaps snip the infection in the bud. But now, the sight of the rotting flesh and the smell of necrosis only deterred her.

”I… am so sorry…” Neve whispered. She gathered the gall to step closer, although she averted her eyes down to the floor in shame. ”I wish I had been there to help. But even I can’t refuse the call of the Grovemasters. I can only pray that someone in Brightlam will be able to help you. I’m sorry, Arton. I want to help. I really do. But… my magicks pale in comparison to Blight so deeply ingrained into the flesh of a living being.”

Her apology burned him worse than any magical flame. A part of him wanted her to yell back at him. Scream that he was being an idiot. He had been avoiding this conversation since she came back and he could see it had been inevitable.

An exhausted sigh left him. ”I’m sorry too…for lashing out like that. I can’t seem to help it much. Arton turned to face her, managing to regain most of his composure. That was it then. His arms hung loosely at his sides feeling the truth of his reality set in. The frame of the bed creaked as he sat down on it, arms resting on his knees but chose to look directly at her. ”No choice but to keep pressing on then, right? I’ve managed this far so what’s a little longer?” A hollow smile rose on his lips.

There was little chance of curing himself, that much he had read from Neve. He considered himself sturdier than most and with the help of his HP plus materia he had been able to last longer than most. That borrowed time had run out. Arton didn’t want to see the expression in those eyes of hers. A look of pity for a dying man. The blight had already begun to reduce him as such. ”I would have liked a break, just once.” This was spoken almost quietly against the forces of Fate.

Thank Etro he was able to calm himself. Neve wanted to touch him, to hold him and provide him some respite in the darkness of this cramped room. But even she was afraid to touch him. Her mind flashed back to the sickened Mystrel back on the way to Brightlam. How the taint had coursed through his body, rendering him a shade of his former self before he perished. She wouldn’t let that happen to Arton. No, she would find a way to heal him. There had to be a cure in Brightlam. If not, then Skael. If not, then…
”Press on for as long as you have to. For as long as you need to until you are cured,” Neve replied in a gentle murmur, meeting his eyes for the first time since his outburst. ”You must persist. It’ll all be worth it, once Etro turns her eyes towards you. Then, you will be able to rest easy under Her smile.”

There was a spark of light buried behind the darkness around his eyes. ”I have been praying every night lately so I hope she hears me soon. I am nothing if not persistent” He couldn't let himself fall to the Blight, not now. If Neve was willing to believe he could be cured, that was enough for him to believe too. Besides, he didn't want to be responsible for anymore of her tears.

Arton parted his mouth to say something else but after a short pause closed it once more. Now was hardly the time to express such thoughts. Not when his fate was so uncertain. ”It really hasn't been the same without you.” He made a silent oath to Etro that for as long as he could, he would never stop resisting the corruption inside him…and he would allow no harm to come to her precious servant.

The fact that Arton was able to keep his faith had been a miracle. Neve had heard of stories of people abandoning their Mother after they had spent a long while under great duress, and she would not have blamed Arton if he had been one of their number. What mattered was that Etro granted her flock strength when they were at their weakest– when the flock diverted from their treaded path, then it was up to her closest followers to lead them back to her embrace. Neve’s eyebrows arched up at his last comment, and it was at that that her smile returned in full force.

”I’m more than glad to have returned, my good friend.”

If it hadn’t been obvious before then, Neve had realized how much she had been needed since her departure. She would have to make certain that she wouldn’t leave their side again.

Arton simply nodded with a half-smile, fighting off the fatigue that surged through him now that he had calmed down. One more secret cast into the light. ”We should talk again soon. There’s more I want to tell ya but…” His shoulders and torso flexed as he sharply yawned. ”..I’m not sure I can stay awake now.” Whatever was keeping him awake had seemed to quiet down after speaking with Neve. His limbs were feeling especially heavy.

”I’m trusting you to keep an eye on me now. Don’t want to be accused of being too reckless.” He spoke with a low laugh. It had felt like he had been in a spiral of death recently. Desperately clawing at whatever might slow the fall. Etro had given him a sign. He could not falter. He could not waiver. Salvation would surely arrive if he just kept fighting. Monsters. Valheim. The Blight. Arton would weather this storm.

Ah, so they were all good now. Neve felt her shoulders slump in relief. While concern still babbled within her chest, she was more at ease now that she had recognized the familiar warmth to Arton’s voice. She ran a hand through the strands of her hair, eyeing his fatigued yawn and bobbing her head. ”Of course,” she murmured, now giving him a sincere smile as she backed towards the door. ”I hope to do a good job at keeping you– and everyone safe, from now on.”

Her hand fell upon the doorknob. Slowly, as to not make much noise and disturb Arton’s sleepy mood, she opened the door. ”Goodnight. Try to get enough rest. We’ll share more stories in the morn.”

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:@HereComesTheSnow@Psyker Landshark

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Crack.

The projected orchestral figures splintered soon the last of the hydra heads were vanquished. A sharp pain shot across the Faye's expression that caused her to stagger in place. Her vision became distorted, uneven as if everything around her was spinning and bending in impossible ways. It was too much. The bow stopped sliding across her violin's string and her voice grew quiet. The phantom figures that had join in her grand performance fractured further and soon shattered into nothingness.

"Ru..dolf..." Delirium has clouded her mind as she looked at him with a happiness that defied their current situation. A thin trail of blood ran from her nose as her movements felt weighed down. She stopped when her eyes caught sight of Esben and Eve barely hovering in the air. Izayoi's words were muddled but she understood enough that something had to be done. The moving water was hard to look at in her current state, but even so she stepped towards railing. "I will...I..." Ciradyl felt her legs give out first and she fell, barely able to brace herself as her shoulder struck the deck. Her eyes vaguely looked out towards the water before fluttering shut.

Arton checked over Neve and Ciradyl briefly to ensure that nothing that managed to break through and hit them. He had no illussions that one of them would have been seriously injured had Rudolf's materia not arrived in time. The very man in question flew briefly into the air and landed solidly in front of the three. "Yeah, we're okay here for the moment..." He had been about to thank him when a chilling sensation shot along the length of his spine and his gaze quickly turned to Ciradyl. The sudden absence of the music twisted something in his stomach. "Ciradyl! Are you alright?" He called out to her but she didn't even glance in his direction.

The sound of gunfire breaking out prompted him to action once more and he quickly positioned himself in front. His shield blocked a stray shot, the fragments peppering into the wooden deck. It was then he heard Izayoi's voice call out her plan and immediately after the sound of something hitting the ground. Arton tried to glance back to check on them but the force of a couple more bullets breaking upon his shield prevented him from diverting his attention.

His master was caught wide open drawing all of the aggression towards herself. The moment Rudolf's offer processed in his mind, he found himself charging forward. "Keep them safe!" His eyes narrowed as he closed in to where Izayoi was standing. What else could he do but be his master's shield in this moment?

The massive form of Arton came between Izayoi and the shooters, deflecting a shot that seemed to have a good read of on her movements. His barrier activated and from there he made short work of the incoming volleys of fire. The training he had done with the limbtaker was constantly running through his mind. It was surely something he would never mention to Neve about. He couldn't give her another reason to worry. Arton grinned slightly as the frustration grew in the riflemen.

What?

He understood that Izayoi was a master of the sword but this? Arton felt honored...no blessed...to be under her tutelage. A grimace quickly came over him as the parting waves revealed Esben and Eve. There was nothing he could do for them that wouldn't end up just adding another body to the pile. Besides the armor and heavy clothes that protected him, the swordsman was never that strong of a swimmer and he doubt he would be able to fight against the wicked current.

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Mentions:@HereComesTheSnow

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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

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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

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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:

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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.