Jump to content

Roen

Patrons
  • Posts

    1354
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Everything posted by Roen

  1. Of all the memories Nabi had of her, it was her mother’s patient eyes that she recalled with the most clarity. How her mother would listen quietly when Nabi ran up to her with a new discovery, whether it be a flower she didn’t recognize, a pebble of a unique shape, or even a small snail with a colorful shell. Her mother would place her hand upon the top of her head, gently running it down her hair to her cheek, then smile, lightly touching her forehead against hers. Somehow, it was still there, all that affection glowing through her graceful poise, even when her mother’s image was only outlined by strands of silver and gold. Chanai was floating airly in front of her, her silhouette illuminating the impossibly dark space. Nabi froze. All the words, and all the love she held for her mother since her passing, she couldn't find them. In struggling to find a voice all at once, they choked her instead. Then before her lips could part, before they could even form words, Nabi was forcibly pulled away, expelled from that space, leaving both Anchor and Chanai in darkness. - A gasp broke the silence of the room, as Nabi’s eyes opened. The room was quiet and dark, save for the beating of her racing heart that thrummed in her chest. The scent of old wood permeated the air, the blanket partition draped over the edges of each bunk bed further muting the noises from the rest of the room. She blinked to clear her vision, recalling that she had fallen asleep in the lower bunk, in one of four beds that was in the inn room she had shared with the others. Inhaling deep to chase away the last remnants of her dream, Nabi focused on her own hand in front of her, laid upon a familiar warm chest. Anchor was asleep at her side, his frame curled protective over her own. As the webs of slumber began to dissipate, Nabi looked up, eyes bleary, seeking out his face. The last she had seen of it, fury and hurt had twisted his features. It was always so, when it came to his lost brother and sister. Nabi had not realized that it had been the threads of his past that were driving Anchor, when he put forth the idea for him to work for the man who was possibly lying and poisoning others with corrupt aether. Her interest had solely been on finding ways to cure Anchor of his sickness; she didn’t see the possibility that this “Doc Nylor” could also have clues to those that had enslaved Anchor and his siblings when they were children. And when it came to them, Anchor was always willing to risk everything and anything. His own life meant nothing if it meant he could pay the slavers back in kind. But Nabi couldn’t bear the thought of him exposed to even more warped aether than he already had. "Must this all be on your shoulders alone?" she had asked him earlier in the evening. They had just returned from a meeting with Gideon North, who had ways to get them in contact with this mysterious scholar named Nylor. Nabi and Anchor had come to an impasse, neither willing to risk the other in becoming acquainted with this person. Anchor only met her gaze for a moment, before looking away. "I swore I would.” Nabi could hear the hardening of his voice. “And if my words has any weight of all then, aye. I should." Nabi lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to see his pain renewed with what she would say next. But she had to ask. "Would they want that? You, suffering all alone?" A span of quiet followed. When she heard his voice again, there was restraint that held his chords, as if he was holding back a storm of emotions. "I lost knowin' what they wanted when they was reaped from me." She could feel his gaze boring into her. "Ya's of all should know that impossibility." It hurt. The mention of her. Was that what it felt like? When she spoke of Cseri’a? Nabi couldn’t blame him. And yet… "Aye.” Her head dipped lower, hiding her expression behind the fall of her hair. “I have questions that can never be answered. She was gone without a word. Or warning. But..." She hated that her voice was shaking, and that she couldn’t loosen the tightness in her throat. "My life means something." Her hands closed by her side. During those suns after returning from the depths of the ruins, Nabi could not speak these words, for only tears came. But now, she had to find the strength to share them, for his sake. "She is gone and I live on. And I carry her memories and her love with me. I have to think that means something. The way I live, it means something to her." This was the mantra Nabi repeated in her mind over and over again, one that eventually pulled her out of the depths of sadness and regret. "I have to believe that she wants me to be happy. She wants me to feel love. To laugh. Else…” Or else she could have remained paralyzed with despair forever. Hot tears fell from her eyes, staining the wooden planks below her feet. Her voice sounded hoarse as she braved a look up at Anchor, fresh tracks of moisture staining her cheeks. "So you too carry them within you. You are the only person that knows what they would want. You!" She leaned forward, imploring him to understand, her eyes darting to the tattoos he bore on his face. "The marks on your cheeks, they can't just be for grief and anger. Because they are far more than that to you. Aren't they??" Unlike her own, full of desperate conviction, Anchor’s expression had softened. He reached out, finger tips just feather-light on a singer lock of her hair tapering down her cheek. "You're right. Of yours. Of hers. It should have been you that heard them. Those words." His fingers reached the end and simply hovered there, drifting, then slowly curled in. "But I--I don't know words like that. Mayhap it's not what they want. What they wanted. I only have meself left from then. And it's all I--all I had were that. My words. And I promised them. I would end the bastards that did this to them." His hand dropped to his side. "And you--I don't want tae bloody your own with that." He truly didn’t know. Words like that. All this time, Nabi had never realized just how deprived he had been. As a child, he had been sold to slavers to work in the mines. Then losing the only ones that ever showed him any sliver of happiness so terribly and so young, Anchor had never been told every morning how much he was loved. He didn’t have a parent to make him breakfast, to rejoice in the smallest of discoveries, or teach him how to live and laugh with others. Even if Cseri’a and Buoy loved him, they too were only children, learning how to survive together. That realization was something that came after the turmoil of emotions had passed, as Nabi looked upon his sleeping form now. Her hand lifted, her fingertips hovering just over his cheek, tracing the brand there. A bent stem of a rose, thorns and all. But absent of petals. She was wrong about the mark. They were born out of loss and rage. Because that was all Anchor knew after their passing. Cseri’a and Buoy, as close as they were to him, they didn’t leave him with a freedom to find his own happiness, only the memories of their horrible deaths. It was a pain so deep, that its roots were all tangled within the center of his heart. And try as she might, Nabi could not pull it free from his soul. It was the same. The nature of the corruption and the promise Anchor made to his lost family. They both pained him, but they also kept him going, and Anchor couldn’t live without them. Could she heal him? Somehow find a way to mend his heart, from both the crystals that had taken its place, and the wounds that fuel his will, even while they continue to bleed him dry? Did she have any other choice than to try?
  2. Nabi stood before the kitchen counter, staring at the cutting board. She had a bowl of salmon, broken into smaller flakes, and already the aroma of the spices was wafting throughout the kitchen. The steam from the rice was starting to diminish, and it would be cool enough for her to handle shortly. She took inventory of the sheets of nori that had been trimmed and stacked, and the smaller bowls with assorted contents that were lined up nearby. But something was missing. -- “What is this smell?” It was a question that Mimiyo was fond of asking, whenever Chanai was busying about in the kitchen. The Hingan woman approached the Xaela and peeked over her shoulder, looking at the bowl that the latter had her hands deeply entrenched in. “Isn’t it wonderful?” Nabi chirped enthusiastically, her head poking out and around her mother’s skirt to greet the woman. Even as a child, Nabi was always curious as to what her mother was doing, and like a hummingbird, fluttered about the older Xaela when she was cooking. This was no different. “Mama is making o-ni-gi-ri.” The Hingan raised her eyebrows, dipping her head closer to the child to tap a finger softly on the tip of the Xaela’s nose. “Is she now? I am impressed! It’s only been a sennight since I told her of this recipe.” Her expression shifted from delight to amusement when she straightened, leaning to her side to eye the mixture in the bowl once more. “Although I don’t remember anything about dried pork or… is that beef?” Skepticism was starting to sneak into her tone. “Boodog,” Chanai corrected the Hingan, massaging the mixture of meats and vegetables with her hands. “Although, I thought I’d add a little curry flavor with this one.” She gave Mimiyo a small smirk and canted her head towards the other bowls. “Don’t worry, I also have salmon -- your favorite -- and pickled plum, for Yoshinari.” Mimiyo didn’t try to hide her curious delight, but she hmphed audibly as she began to roll her sleeves up to her elbows. “Well, if you are going to tell everyone that I taught you how to make this, then I’m going to have to make sure it is at least edible!” She rolled her eyes as she bumped Chanai’s hip to make the woman scoot, reaching into the sink to wash her hands. “Else Yagiri will never let me hear the end of it.” “Don’t worry, I will not begrudge you if you want to borrow this recipe someday,” Chanai chuckled knowingly, sliding the large bowl of cooked rice in between them. “As I recall, Yagiri really liked the buuz I made for him.” “He’ll never admit it out loud,” the Hingan laughed. “He always boasts about his refined taste buds and how he only truly appreciates the finest from the mainland.” There was a smirk that lingered as she gave Chanai a sidelong glance. “But that was the fastest I’ve ever seen him finish any dumplings! And he had the audacity to ask for seconds! Without even giving you a compliment!” “I remember! Something about wanting to share them with his friend Ushitora.” Chanai joined in the laughter. “The look on his face when Ushitora knew nothing of it when we ran into him the next sun!” Mimiyo squealed. Nabi diligently pressed her hands together, listening to the two women exchange stories. She always loved it in the kitchen, listening to them talk. It was like the room was brimming with happiness; it was full of lively sounds, smells, and tastes. Her mother usually created something wonderful each time, so Nabi wanted to contribute too. So when she was finally satisfied, she presented her own to the two adults, a proud grin on her face. “Look mama! I made one!” Both Chanai and Mimiyo turned to look to Nabi, and the amorphous ball of something in her hands. It wasn’t quite a ball, it had indentations all around the ridges from her firm pressing, and some strands of rice were squeezed out into what could have been tentacles. “That’s uh…” Mimiyo started then paused. “A purbol,” Chanai announced, delicately taking up the offering from her daughter’s hands. She held it before her eyes for inspection then showed it to Mimiyo with a proud gleam in her eyes, before setting it down on a dish. She picked up some dried fish bits and sesame seeds along with ground up spices and sprinkled it on top. “See? These are its sacs on the crown of its head.” “A… purbol, I see it.” Mimiyo’s observation was slower in coming but the Hingan bobbed her head all the same. “I am not sure whether to eat it or admire it.” “Well, it is her very first, I am sure there will be plenty more to come!” Chanai gave her daughter a kiss on her head, then presented the dish to Mimiyo. “So you get to be the lucky person to try it, before anyone else!” Mimiyo blinked, then looked down at the Xaela child who was bouncing up and down with anticipation, her eyes wide as saucers. The Hingan narrowed her eyes at Chanai as she slowly took up the irregular creation, before reluctantly taking a bite of it. But after a few chews, her brow was wrinkled with surprise. She nodded in approval. “I used mama’s mixture!” Nabi beamed. Mimiyo swallowed then put the other half in her mouth. “Well, Nabi, you will have to make me another.” She gave the child then her mother a knowing grin. “So that my friend Ushitora can try them too!” A peal of laughter filled the room again. -- Nabi remembered trying to cook for the first time after her mother’s passing. It felt lonely and empty. The kitchen was always a room that was filled with love, and that feeling was gone. But then she started to remember some of the songs that her mother had taught her from their homelands. And so Nabi started to hum it quietly when she cooked. It was a way to remember the recipes that her mother had taught her, along with many other moments. And soon, cooking began to feel good again. The kitchen once more started to fill with new and familiar scents, and soft melodies from her childhood floated to the ceiling. And she didn’t feel alone any more. Since her return from the ruins, Nabi hadn't returned to cooking. She bought food from the stands in Shirogane, and when the stove was used, it was for tea and reheating. The only cooking that was done in the first few suns was by Anchor. But now as she stared at the counter, determined to start again, Nabi found herself hesitant. She had told herself to make the onigiri so that Anchor had something to take, when he went out the next sun. She suspected he was looking for jobs. He had already left with the many items he had collected over the years, stating that he didn’t need them anymore. Surely, if he was working to move forward, like she had wished, Nabi owed him to try the same. So she took a step forward and dipped her hand into the small bowl of water. She spooned a helping of rice into her moistened palm and began to mold it. Her throat felt dry, like a rusty unused instrument. But quietly and almost hesitantly, a note vibrated from the back of the throat. She could barely hear it, and it certainly wasn’t loud enough to fill the room. But it was something other than the vast silence. It was the song she had sung for Anchor, when he too had to grieve for his siblings a second time. It spoke of hopelessness, loss, and suffering. But also of the promise of tomorrow, and a new life, with new beginnings. And so one note followed after the other, and her hands continued to move, reaching for ingredients and the nori. The soft sound began to fill the space around her, just as Anchor’s stories of his lost siblings started to fill the vacant places in her heart. The woven threads, the ticket to the play, the tales of trees and ribbons, and pointless and cherished frivolities… they all started to take residence in her thoughts along with those of her mother, and she felt less empty for it. Her cheeks felt warm and her eyes began to blur, but there was a soft smile on her lips too.
  3. “It started with me… so… if I can end it… with me… then…” Those were her own words. Beneath that mountain. It seemed a lifetime ago, when in truth only a few winters had passed, when Nabi was willing to give her life to save another. The decision wasn’t an easy one, by no means. As matter of fact, when she believed it was the only option left to her, it scared her to the core to accept it. But accept it, she did. What was the worth of her life, anyroad? Her suns were simple, selling herbs and medicines to strangers. She never struggled to survive, she had known no hardship. She held no position of import and there wasn’t some great ambition she looked to achieve. But there were others, like her mother, who had sacrificed so much, so that Nabi could lead a normal life. Anchor had traded his freedom for hers, willingly accepting his lot to fight to the death in a blood soaked arena, so that she could return to her aunt and uncle, minding the herbal stand in the Rakuza District. There was nothing so important about her, that it was worth another man’s sacrifice. Nabi couldn’t accept it. It was more than fair to give back to that trade. For a man who had struggled and fought so hard for what he had, Anchor surely deserved his more. But since their escape and starting their new life together, that outlook began to change. Nabi came to know Anchor, the dark sides of him, his losses, and his grief. And somewhere along the way, she made a promise to herself that she would never leave Anchor alone in this world. He had lost those who were precious to him, and she had come to learn the steep price of that loss. It left him with a deep festering wound, one that had yet to heal. So simply doing all she could to make sure he lived, was not enough for her. Not any more. And yet, those words returned to her once again, as countless vines and roots reached for her. How appropriate they sounded to her now. More than ever. The reason they were all here, in this dark place beneath the ruins where no sunlight ever touched, surrounded by the mythical flowers that foretold her own birth, it was because of her. It did start with her. And all the tribulations they had endured, it could end with her. But now, those words no longer belonged to her. It wasn’t just the promise. Nabi had learned what it meant to stand her ground, fight for those she loved. She watched them grit their teeth and bear the pain, so that they could continue to struggle onward. Anchor did this every sun, fighting his pain, fighting his sorrow, fighting his guilt to push forward. Ghoa somehow smiled, genuinely so, despite all the hardships that were forced on her, by the Kharlu no less, and accepted Nabi as her kin. She opened her heart to Batuhan, who belonged to the very tribe that took the Mankhad forcibly from her home. Ghoa showed Nabi what it meant to face the hardships, and rather than succumbing to it, find a way to forge a new life past it. “We almost lost ya then,” Shael’s voice echoed in the back of her mind. “I ain’t lettin’ ya do that again.” Nabi could almost feel the woman’s whisper brushing against her locks. “Ya hear?” Nabi knew, if she just surrendered herself to what the generations before her expected of her, then Shael would be absolutely furious. Probably even more than Anchor. That scared her a little. And Nabi was just starting to see the Highlander smirk and grin a bit more freely of late. Tserende’s departure did hurt the hyur, that much was obvious, so Nabi couldn’t do that again to her friend. Like Anchor, Shael had lost everyone else she had loved in her life. Besides, Nabi also promised herself to one day see all of them become friends with one another. So there would be no surrender. No sacrifice. Nabi refused. She could not leave them. She didn’t want to. And deep down, she knew it was for herself too. Mayhap, she wasn’t as selfless as her cousin thought her to be. Nabi clasped the butterfly charm to her chest and closed her eyes, focusing on the aether around her. The sorrow and hunger were so prevalent in these black flowers. But she knew, like all other times of hopelessness, it wasn’t absolute. It couldn’t be. So she would show them what it would mean, to endure. To not just accept one’s fate. And push past. To see the light and possibilities beyond. She heard the small bell of her charm let out a single note, before the wave of dark flora crashed into her.
  4. “Do you hear them?” Nabi placed her left horn against the boulder, both hands also laying palms flat against the rock’s surface. She could feel its warmth through the scales on her cheek, it had been resting in the summer afternoon, basking in the sunlight. A smile broadened her lips, although it soon disappeared as she focused on her other senses, namely her hearing. But even after quieting her breath, almost to the point of holding it, there was nothing. Only the birds chirping to each other on a distant branch, and the rustling of leaves whispering in the passing breeze. But the boulder itself was silent. “I hear nothing.” She pouted as she lifted her head from where it was resting, turning to the woman who was seated next to her on the grass. Chanai gazed upon her daughter, lines of mirth appearing at the edges of her eyes. “You don’t hear them like you would the calls of vendors or sounds of the ocean waves.” The older Xaela lifted one of her daughter's small hands and placed it upon her chest. “Do you hear my heartbeat?” Nabi’s lower lip rolled out further, her eyes narrowing on their joined hands. “I feel your pulse.” Chanai nodded patiently, pressing her daughter’s palm over her heart. “Yes, but when I speak, or take a deep breath,” and the woman inhaled slowly, filling her chest, “...or when I laugh.” She let out a quiet chuckle, her head canting to regard the child in front of her. “You can hear it, through your hand. Feel how I feel. Even if I were to speak no words, you would know if I am happy. Or sad. Or scared.” Nabi’s eyes narrowed, listening intently, concentrating on her mother’s every word. “So, I am not listening with my horns, but with other senses…?” she asked softly. Chanai nodded. “That you are. Learning to listen in other ways, lets you hear those who do not speak as we do.” With a slow lick of her lips, Nabi nodded then looked back to the large boulder she had been concentrating on. She had picked it out of all the other rocks in Kugane, because it sat where the flow of the water was most gentle, sitting between the bridge and the willow that swayed within the Rakusui Gardens. It was her favorite spot, and also where the koi often lingered beneath the water. Her hand that was still resting upon its smooth surface slowly slid along the grains of the stone, fingers relishing in the warmth that gave way to something cooler when it touched the grass and the water’s edge. That’s when she felt it. A sense of serenity and quiet emanating from within the stone. It was as if the rock was gazing at the glittering surface of the water, perched at the edge of the pond. It relished in the sun’s warmth, and there was a measure of peace in its stillness. It had been here a long time, brought by strong coarse hands, after being carried down from a higher rockier surface that held the Kugane Castle. Even though its previous perch afforded clear winds and view of the vast open sky, here by the pond, there were quiet conversations that drifted by, gentle ripples that tickled its underside, and birds that filled the air with their cheerful chatter. Nabi found herself smiling wider than ever. “It’s happy here,” she murmured. “Napping beneath the sun. Daydreaming of all the seasons.” She blinked up at her mother, beaming with excitement. Chanai ran her hands gently over Nabi’s hair, brushing it back from the girl’s eyes. There was pride in her smile as she squeezed the hand she still held, although for a moment, something else flitted over her visage too. It was a touch of melancholy, something that Nabi had glimpsed on more than one occasion. It did not escape the younger Xaela’s notice, who blinked and tilted her head. “What’s wrong?” Chanai shook her head, her expression easing with affection. “It comes so natural to you,” her mother observed quietly. “Even without any practice.” She took a deep breath and took the girl’s other hand, lifting it from the boulder to clasp it in between hers. “My sweet daughter. You will sing to them all someday, and many will awaken, realizing they have a melody in them too, their own part to play.” She pressed her lips gently upon the child’s fingertips. “Until then, remember my lessons.” Nabi blinked a few times, a slow frown narrowing her eyes. Was her mother still talking about the rocks? But before she could ask, she felt the touch of the woven metal over her wrist, as her mother slid her bracelet back in its place. It was rare that she allowed it to come off for any lesson. But when it did, the times were brief and precious. “It’s over already?” Nabi sighed, disappointment deflating her. “It is enough for today.” Chanai raised a finger in between them, already heading off the protest that was on the tip of her young daughter’s tongue. “You know the importance of keeping this on you.” She brushed her forefinger over the braids of gold and silver, spinning it once around her daughter’s wrist. Nabi’s lips pursed to one side, but she nodded dutifully. Such lessons on earthly magic from her mother were rare and so she appreciated each and everyone of them. Little did she realize then, that it would be the last occasion where her mother would allow the bracelet to come off in her presence, and the final time where Chanai would teach her how to strengthen her connection to the earth. It didn’t matter though, since her curious nature would have Nabi practicing on her own when she returned to the gardens now and then. She started to learn where each boulder came from, determined to regale her mother with all their stories one day. Nabi never had the chance, for her mother passed away before she could hear the tale. A breath was slowly released through pursed lips, composure and focus settling over her form as Nabi felt the tension leave her shoulders. The obsidian waited in front of her, one that had been retrieved from the undead Jhungid warlord, the same stone that held the magical runes etched by the udgan Toragana. Now it was up to her to decipher the mysteries that could be hidden within, to discover the history that was hidden within the workings of this dark stone. She lowered her hand slowly upon the polished surface, her palm coming to rest flat against it. I’ve learned a lot since that day, mother. You will see. Her lips parted, as if inhaling a breath to begin a song. That’s when the runes upon the obsidian started to illuminate beneath her touch, arcane symbols suddenly coming to life.
  5. I had this line art commissioned for Batuhan Kharlu and Arasen Kharlu! I love the stoic expression on Batuhan and the sly smile on Arasen. Very apt for those two. And i love the details of their horns, the unique scales upon their face, and the necklace of bones that Arasen wears. The artist cane be found here!
  6. (sometime before this happened...) It was but the briefest glimpse. If Nabi had blinked, or had she been only focused on her own fears, she would have missed it. But it was unmistakable. She saw doubt. Regret. Hesitation. Where her cousin’s amber gaze usually shined clear with focus and precision, it now looked to her searchingly, even as his larger hands held her own immobile. There was anger, it burned the brightest, but behind that cold heat, she saw a man adrift, swimming desperately for shore. She saw a man seeking reprieve. Nabi had been petrified with worry and despair. She was taken against her will from her own clinic, a mysterious sickness weakening her body that she couldn’t even say a word as she was carried away from the House of Sparrows , through the piers of Shirogane, and onto a ship she didn’t recognize. She witnessed a Jhungid warlord as he was shot clear through the head, by Shael’s gun no less, then another less fatal wound inflicted upon Anchor’s leg by the same weapon. She knew not how he fared as he was dragged off, unconscious, to another part of the ship. And Arasen had been part of it all. He and Batuhan had visited her apothecary that morning, and he was the one that spoke to the Jhungid udgan as if they were familiar with each other. So why was he looking so lost as he held her prisoner aboard a ship now in the middle of the ocean? “Your mother understood,” he rasped, his hands shaking with fervor. “She knew this was the only way. For a woman like her to have gone through these lengths, to produce a child purely meant as an offering to the gods, it is cruel. But it is because she understood.” It was then that fear began to ebb, releasing its hold over her heart. Mayhap it was because her cousin reminded Nabi of her mother. She hadn’t seen the similarity until this very moment. After all, he had been feeding them half-truths and manipulating her emotions to his own end, all to achieve the prophecy that her mother foresaw. But they were both driven, and they both bore the burden of the knowledge that their visions gave them; this unbearable weight upon their shoulders that none others could see. Her mother had been the strongest woman that Nabi knew. But there were those brief moments of weakness that would overtake her, and they didn’t escape the notice of her young daughter. Nabi had caught her mother weeping by her bedside once, when she had taken with sickness. It was just a cold, her mother had assured her, but later she was awoken with quiet sounds of muffled sobs and discovered moist stains of tears on her blanket. Nabi was so confounded to see her mother so, she had always been the most unflappable person Nabi knew. It frightened her to the core, and she just reached out with her hand and laid them upon her mother’s. It was all she could offer in her fevered state, she didn’t know what to say. Her mother kissed her knuckles and cooed back to her, coaxing her back to sleep. They never spoke of it again after. Ever since learning of the truth behind her birth, Nabi had reminisced about her years with her mother in a different light, as though looking through a new lens. Only then did she recognize the moments of silence, where her mother’s enduring composure would be shed like a cloak when she thought she was alone, and she sat by the window and stared out to the horizon, looking worn and sad. “None of that matters,” Nabi whispered to her cousin, her head bowing. “What she intended at first. She risked her life to save me. And all I’ve ever known is her love.” Her vision blurred and heat flushed her cheeks as the memories returned to her unbidden. “In the end, she didn’t want it. She must have seen this wasn’t right. That this isn’t the way!” Her voice was starting to shake with emotion, and her glistening eyes rose, looking imploringly to her cousin’s. There was a soft smile that dared to emerge, pushing past all other anxieties. Her mother too had been haunted by the darkness of those visions. But their visits were brief and scarce. Instead, she had bathed in the sun with her daughter most days, gathering herbs, washing the laundry, and watching fireflies. “But if someone like her, full of love for others, could try for such a thing… then, then you must care for others just as much.” Her hands relaxed even as his grip tightened around her fingers. “I know she suffered, looking back. She had moments of quiet and solitude. So you must be suffering too. Carrying all of that burden.” A tear rolled down her cheek, her insides trembling but not with fear. “But she found peace. And happiness. When she chose the life she wanted to lead. To love and laugh instead.” Nabi looked to him earnestly, offering him a gentle, inviting smile. “You can too. You don’t have to do this.” You don’t have to be so lost.
  7. Roen

    Roen and Khadai

    Since this was imported, all my descriptions were lost. The artist can be found here: https://www.deviantart.com/jn3-gimorro
  8. “Mama! Mama, come look!” Nabi’s enthusiastic call drew Chanai’s attention from her work, as she set the mortar and pestle aside. There were various herbs and reagents organized in front of her on the desk, some soaking in oil and others chopped up or ground into powder. A small pot bubbled on the firepit nearby, filling the air with scents of windtea leaves and lotus roots, a sweet tangy scent woven in with the crispness of freshly cut leaves. Noting the time that was still left on the distilling process, Chanai wiped off her hands on her apron and rose from her seat, crossing the room to tilt over her daughter’s shoulder who was leaning out on the windowsill. The young child’s wide eyes were fixated on the small chrysalis hanging from a stem of a climbing vine along the outside wall. “I think she’s about to come out!” Nabi whispered, as if speaking too loud would disturb whatever it was she was witnessing. Chanai leaned against the windowsill behind her daughter, the spring breeze greeting her with a welcomed cool caress. It also rustled the cocoon hanging from the plant nearby, but it moved mostly due to the passenger within. The spun shelter wiggled in place, although there was no visible break in the shell itself. Nabi hunched closer, waiting patiently, then after a moment of no progress, she turned back to Chanai, a worried frown tugging her brow low. “Do you think it can’t get out? Should… should we help?” “Give it some time,” Chanai reassured quietly, her expression turning soft. “Finding its own way out into the world is part of its journey. It helps it develop its wings, its strength.” Her daughter looked up to her with eyes filled with awe, before she quickly turned back to the chrysalis. She clenched her small hands into fists in front of her and leaned in with a whisper. “You can do it, little butterfly. I believe in you!” A quiet chuckle softened Chanai’s features as she watched her daughter stand vigilant, encouraging the tiny creature to emerge. But soon her gaze drifted to Nabi’s back, and eventually came to rest upon her shoulder. The amusement began to fade from her, a pensive sigh sagging her shoulders. That was what she was doing, wasn’t it? Trusting that her own daughter would find her way out of her sheltered upbringing? Chanai did her best to build that cocoon, to protect her from what would inevitably come looking for her. And she knew, she would not be there to protect her child. Each time that realization returned, a pang of sorrow bloomed anew. But she had accepted that fate long ago in the ruins. Did she do too much? Chanai had only taught Nabi the very rudimentary lessons on runic incantations. And her other lessons were never solidly tied in with her daughter’s abilities. She knew she had much to teach Nabi, and yet had held it all that back. She did everything she could to try and suppress her daughter’s growth when it came to her aetheric abilities. Was she right in doing so? In holding back all the knowledge and truths about her origins? It has to be this way. For all the visions the Sight had granted her about her daughter’s prophesied end, Chanai had come to reject them all. All but one. She had to believe that what she saw in that one singular divination would eventually grant her daughter the life she would choose for herself. That it would lead her to surround herself with others who would love her and protect her. And those same people would help Nabi grow, and become the woman Chanai knew her daughter could become. And that was all she could hope for. Without her knowing, Chanai squeezed her daughter’s shoulder, sadness suddenly gripping her chest. Even though she was certain she had come to terms with what must be, even though she had made her peace with it, there was still an undeniable longing to see for herself the future she would sacrifice everything for. But she knew she couldn’t. Nabi gasped with surprise, mistaking her mother’s gesture for one of happiness as the spun shell began to crack open at the top, a small pair of legs emerging first. The child began to bounce in her seat joyfully as she started to murmur more encouragement, glancing back to her mother to also share in the wonder of it all. But she paused when she spotted the older Xaela wiping at her eyes, the smile on the young face fading into one of concern. “What’s wrong mama?” Chanai shook her head and patted her daughter’s back, bringing a warm smile back onto her lips. “I was just worried. That it might be too much for the youngling alone.” She leaned closer and kissed her daughter on her head with a soft coo. “But I was right. A beautiful butterfly will emerge and soar the skies.” A beaming smile broadened Nabi’s lips from ear to ear and she nodded and turned, in time to squeal at the pair of antenna that was curiously exploring about the fresh new air. She bent closer to greet the small head that poked through. “Well, hello!” she chirped at the new critter with an enthusiastic whisper. Chanai leaned forward as well, tucking her chin alongside her daughter’s small shoulder, watching the butterfly pull itself out of the thick cocoon. Such small moments were wonderous miracles, and she would not miss any moment of it. She would cherish as many of them as she could, for as long as she could. They both held their breath as the small thing fluttered its wings loose then tentatively spread them open, displaying its glorious colors for all to see under the spring sunlight. For such a beautiful fragile thing to emerge from its dense shelter, Chanai knew all the trials would be worth it. She had to believe that as she placed another soft kiss on her daughter’s head. “You too will fly free, little one.”
  9. Stolen Kiss by Ruen You can check out more Ruen art here!
  10. Roen

    Remnants

    Roen let out a long sigh, her shoulders sagging. She set her pack down next to her on the ground, her gaze following the Tsenkhai until she could see her no more. A small frown furrowed her brow and she flicked Ashur a narrowed look. “I know some things about her tribe. But my friend was ever wont to speak of things only when necessary.” She rolled her shoulders, loosening the muscle there. The Xaela woman, as petite as she was, hadn't tired easily through their journey, even after travelling quite a distance. “But she knows that I am not wholly ignorant to the ways of her tribe. And so what she has spoken of so far, it is in line with everything I know of them.” Roen canted her head in his direction, her voice lowering. “Does that mean I believe she is being utmost truthful in all things? No. She is definitely not wanting to share more than necessary.” She tutted. “Actually, much less than necessary.” Her eyes looked to where she had seen the woman last, then drifted to adjacent yurts and stands and many other Xaelas. If she wasn’t trying to focus on the mission at hand, she would be quite fascinated about this place. Roen felt a small pang of disappointment, one that wrought forth a quiet sigh. She had hoped that eventually when she came here, that Kasrjin would be here too. And he, in his stoic and limited way, could introduce her to a place like this. It would have been an amusing scenario. “She is purposefully not telling us many things, and in that, it concerns me.” Despite her suspicions, all she felt was frustration and impatience where the secrecy was concerned, rather than fear. “But I think you and I both know, we still need to follow her lead. She is the only one we have so far.” She paused, her attention going from one merchant to another masked Xaela, before looking back to regard Ashur. “Unless you think we can gather more information from some of these traders?”
  11. "Mama, what’s on my back?” Chanai was wringing a rolled up cotton shirt when a voice from behind made her pause. She wiped her brow on the back of her wrist, turning around to see Nabi standing just a few fulms behind her with a small bundle of soiled clothing in her arms. If it wasn’t for the question, the sight of the child trying to balance a pile of robes much too big for her small stature would have brought about an amused smile. But even the view of her seven-year old daughter trying valiantly to help her mother do the laundry, couldn’t alleviate the dread that settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew that someday she would have to explain. But under the bright summer midday sun with washed sheets hanging about all around them, the older Xaela found herself without an easy answer. Had someone else pointed it out? Surely, the child could not have spotted it herself. It was almost laughable. That one such as herself, would be caught unawares by something so predictable. Sight or no, Chanai should have been better prepared to be asked about a strange pattern that was on her daughter’s back since the day she was born. Was it that it was something she herself truly didn’t want to acknowledge? She had come up with a different answer each time she had imagined this moment. But they all felt lacking in some way. Or untrue. Perhaps there really was no acceptable response. She had willed herself to forget it all in the tranquility of the mundane life that Hingashi provided. Matters like a sun spent doing laundry with her child was what was important, rather than ancient visions and prophecies. Chanai sighed, letting the wet linen slide back down the washboard into the lathered water of the wooden tub, canting her head in her daughter’s direction. Nabi was trying to set down the clothes she had collected, even as they began to haphazardly spill out of her grasp. She always was such a helpful child. Squatting down next to her, Nabi looked up at her mother curiously, those golden eyes round as saucers. “How did you come to see it, my love?” Chanai asked quietly, shifting the contents within the bucket, which prompted Nabi to scoot closer. The child concentrated on the task at hand first, to carefully tie up her sleeves as Chanai had done, although they was lopsided here and there and they only made it half way up her forearms. The older Xaela made no mention of it, only smiled faintly at the effort. But her brow remained pulled low even then, she was struggling for an answer. “Aunt Mimiyo thought it was a dirt stain at first. But it didn’t wash off!” Nabi dunked a shirt into the water, leaning forward with the effort, her arms submerging well past the elbow. She didn’t seem to mind her sleeves getting wet. “She said you knew.” Chanai watched the folds of fabric within her daughter’s small hands starting to balloon up with the trapped air within. She moistened her lips slowly, her lingering affection slowly giving way to something more thoughtful. “It is… a mark of a prayer,” she said quietly, soberly. “I prayed that you would come to me, and you did.” Her voice trembled with the weight of the truth in those words. Nabi’s eyes blinked wide, her mouth opening in a gasp. She straightened with an awed look, the laundry suddenly forgotten. “A prayer! So… you asked the gods? About me?” The wonder in her child’s expression, what mother would ever want to deny it? Under any other circumstances, Chanai would have done everything in her power to see such a thing to its full bloom. But this sun was an exception. In the face of the light that shined in Nabi’s eyes, her own darkened and lowered. “For as long as I could remember, I wanted one thing. I was so certain that it would be the only thing that could bring peace to my heart, that I’d be willing to sacrifice anything to achieve it.” Her hands had gone slack upon the edge of the vat, droplets of soapy water dripping from her fingertips. She was looking off into the distance, and rather than seeing the streets of Kugane, there was a familiar meadow that stretched out before her, a sea of green and gold swaying with the summer breeze. She had been so sure, for so many years, that she could restore the beauty and that feeling of serenity to the blood soaked lands of the Steppe. There was a pause before Nabi’s voice brought her out of her reverie. “You look sad, mama.” The child had stopped her own plunging of the soiled clothing, instead placing a wet hand over that of her mother’s. More droplets fell from their touch, rippling the water below. Chanai sniffed, blinking back down at her daughter. Her smile was tentative at first, but soon it warmed with all the affection that bloomed in her heart. “No, my love. I’m not sad. I am… sorry.” She shook her head, those words bringing about a stirring in her chest. “But not because of you. You are my little miracle. My beautiful winged thing.” She squeezed the smaller hand in hers, bringing it up to brush it gently against her cheek. “You brought love to a heart that was ailing. I was trapped in darkness, seeing only the shadows. But you brought light into my life. Now I see love where I thought there was only death. Freedom and hope rather than inevitability.” Chanai turned, her head dipping as she leveled her gaze to that of her daughter’s, the intensity in her voice and expression wholly summoning the young Xaela’s full attention. “I wished for a change, Nabi. The mark you bear is one born of twilight. When the bell tolls of change and rebirth.” Her hand squeezed tighter, and her eyes flicked to the glint of woven metal that hung from the child’s wrist. “It is a great and terrible thing… for it can free you or bind you.” “I don’t… I don't understand,” Nabi whispered, her eyes now starting to show fear as it darted between that of her mother’s. “I’m scared, mama.” Chanai bowed her head, a long sigh deflating her chest. The truth was too hard. Nabi was not ready for it, and she was not prepared to share it. Was she hoping that by blurting it out, that she would find some release? Relief from her guilt? Or forgiveness from the young and naive heart of an innocent child? “I am sorry, little one.” She caressed the child’s knuckles with her thumb, shaking her head. “You are my greatest gift. I only want to give you the life you deserve.” She brought her lips to Nabi’s hand, before setting it upon her lap and straightening. She smiled down to her daughter, giving her the most warm and reassuring look she could manage. “The mark means nothing now. Only a memory of a supplication long forgotten.” She gently tucked away an errant lock of hair behind the child’s horn. “Don’t show it to anyone, from here on.” Her fingers gently held the child’s chin, lifting it to call upon Nabi’s gaze intently. “It is something we left behind. Same as our home. Now we make a new home here. A brand new start.” She extended a forefinger to lightly twirl the bracelet around the child’s wrist. “And remember this, a gift from both your father and I. Make sure it is with you, always. It will protect you.” Chanai searched Nabi’s eyes, and there was something unwavering in her words despite her gentle tone. “You promise?” There were many questions in her daughter’s wide gaze. But despite her curiosity -- and mayhap even a hint of fear -- one thing shined bright and certain in the child’s eyes. A trust in her mother. And so Nabi nodded earnestly, and Chanai pulled her in for a gentle kiss upon her forehead. I too will promise. I will make it right.
  12. Roen

    Shael and Anchor.jpg

    “I know they don’t like each other, but they trust each other when it counts. And I think eventually, a friendship can bloom from that.”
  13. Roen

    Cigarettes and Fireflies

    Album of cool art I've collected! Either commissions or just awesome art drawn by a talented friend. (I am looking at you Ruen)
  14. Commission: Standoff “I know they don’t like each other, but they trust each other when it counts. And I think eventually, a friendship can bloom from that.” By Drist
  15. Roen

    Remnants

    Roen nodded to Ashur somewhat reluctantly. Whether the woman answered her question satisfactorily or not, the Xaela was all they had. But Roen wasn’t about to admit that out loud and so early. At least, not until she was given a better idea of what they were dealing with. The paladin still wasn’t sure how much to trust her, but the Tsenkhai did speak of Kasrjin with a measure of familiarity. Was she his friend? Would she even answer if asked? Roen doubted it. “So then,” she sighed, the release of the tension in her shoulders just barely noticeable. “I suppose we are the foreigners for the job.” There was a quick glance given again to Ashur, just to be sure her companion did not have any other questions. She was starting to get the idea that the Ishgardian was as wary about this as she was, but willing to see it through. “We came ready for travel,” Roen assured, although there was a twinge of doubt in the back of her mind. She had planned for a trip to the Reunion, but not as far as the glaciers. “We will need to resupply at the Reunion.” She tilted her head in the Tsenkhai’s direction. Like it or not, this Xaela would be their guide into the unknown. Neither Ashur nor she had ever traveled to the Steppe before. "When do we start?"
  16. Roen

    Remnants

    Roen listened and watched carefully. As far as she could tell, there was no deceptive air about the woman. Perhaps it was all masked by her confidence and the sure way she held herself, but small pauses and cracks here and there in her otherwise seemingly infallible countenance told her that she could believe the Xaela's words. Or at least, believed that their intent was aligned with one and another. Roen did finally stopped pacing, just studying the Au Ra across the fire with her arms crossed. She occasionally gave Ashur a quick sidelong glance, to gauge his reaction to it all. His focus on the end goal was obvious enough, but with him sitting, and his line of questions told her that he was becoming a little more at ease with the discussion at hand and the auri woman. But something still didn’t feel right. Or perhaps it was because it was too fortuitous that they ran into each other. “So if your people are not supposed to be at the Reunion for years, then just what are you doing out here on your own? If you are a Tsenkhai, are you not one of their leaders? Why are you looking to hire mercenaries to steal something from your own people? Will all your people be against us?” She tilted her head. "Just what kind of opposition should we expect to encounter?"
  17. Roen

    Remnants

    Roen blinked, feeling a bit placed on the spot. There were tidbits she had picked up regarding the details of his tribe, but it wasn’t as if Kasrjin had been overly forthcoming when it came to the ways of his people. And her explanation of what had happened to him was disconcerting to say the least. Make someone a monument for their heroic deed? What kind of tradition was that? If she knew anything about her friend was that Kasrjin was definitely not the type to want or even enjoy such an accolade, much less being held captive. She slowly moistened her lips and shifted her weight, beginning to walk slowly around the fire. She was too restless to sit as Ashur did, especially if the Xaela was also not relaxed enough to do so. “It was not as if he sat down and gave me lessons about his people. We just talked. Over a period of time that we knew each other. He was honest. Almost to a fault.” She cleared her throat. Why was she even defending him to this woman? “He told me he was injured long ago, and was kept in a… stasis? Then brought back into the body of another. One who used to be Tsenkhai. And he still had some memories of him.” Roen’s eyes flickered to the Xaela. “But he held to the belief that this keystone was essential in keeping the ways of your people. And that the temple, where aether was held static, it was becoming more erratic and your people used…” She paused with a frown, straining to recall what Kasrjin had told her. At the time, she found it all rather difficult to understand. “An alphabet, a manifestation of the aether, to communicate, to learn, to predict things. To thrive.” Roen mulled over her own recollection for a moment, before she canted her head pensively. “So without the keystone, the aether would just dissipate into the land, away from this temple? And your people would learn to live without this… Correspondence?”
  18. Roen

    Remnants

    It was sounding too perfect. Everyone was getting what they wanted. It was almost too good to be true. Roen still hadn’t forgotten the betrayal that Kasrjin had suffered, and it was amongst his own tribe. This Xaela was just yet another proof that things weren’t as cohesive and communal as he had believed his people to be. “Before we agree to this plan, I need to know more,” Roen insisted. “What will happen to your people without the keystone? And just why is Kasrjin even a prisoner after what he did? This temple you speak of, is it where you keep…” She paused for the right word. “Souls?” Roen had too many questions. She shot a look to Ashur, wariness clear in her eyes, but mostly to implore for patience. Undoubtedly he too would have more questions following her own... seemingly unbelievable ones. “Do you know of the place where we retrieved this keystone? Because that place was…” She licked her lips, now truly at a loss for how to describe it. “...Unbelievable. And it wielded magic far beyond any scope of understanding I had.”
  19. Roen

    Remnants

    Roen’s expression slowly flattened. It was exasperating to continue to listen to this Xaela who refused to explain things, just assuming that it was far beyond their capacity to understand. Perhaps it was Au Ra who lacked the words to properly communicate in the first place. She let out a measured sigh, pinching her nose, dismissing her annoyance and collecting her composure. Even if this woman grated on her nerves, she was still their best chance of reaching her tribe and helping Kasrjin. And possibly even getting their hands on the keystone. Only… Roen knew she also couldn’t let Ashur return it to his employers either in the end. But first things first. “What do you seek out of all this?” Roen narrowed her eyes, studying the Xaela. “And what is your plan?”
  20. Roen

    Remnants

    Roen stared at the Xaela. There was a lot to process, and she wasn’t sure where to begin. “What do you mean by… held?” She didn’t like that term at all, monument or no. But that wasn’t all. She too shook her head, for an entirely different sentiment. “Kasrjin risked his life to bring that keystone back. And… you have no problem letting us us take it?” This was clearly not the norm for the tribe, that much was obvious. The Xaela even said the others of her kind would object. “Exactly what happened to Kasrjin?” Her eyes were narrowed, with both a hint of concern but also confusion. “And why is it that you are willing to help us take something from your tribe, that he claimed would save your people?”
  21. "Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. " ― Rob Siltanen Commission: The Misfits By: 7teal7 I wanted to commission a portrait of Nabi and her friends! I thought this came out fantastic. Individual portraits below! While I love the line up, I really like the details in each close up. Ghoa Mankhad: The Seducer Anchor Saltborn: The Confederate Nabi Kharlu: The Healer Akhutai Khatayin: The Grump Shael Stormchild: The Smuggler
  22. Roen

    Remnants

    Roen was watching her carefully as well, and as the Xaela’s demeanor shifted ever so slightly, she wondered if this woman knew Kasrjin. Knowing as much, or little, as she did of the Tsenkhai, Roen knew them to be careful, calculating, and powerful. It would be foolish to trust this woman, she needed to keep in mind that everything that the Xaela had said so far, was likely for her own benefit and not theirs. They were strangers after all, and foreigners to boot. Still, those small changes in the woman's countenance, it told Roen enough. “Kasrjin,” she said quietly, grey eyes intently meeting the gaze within those limbal rings. “He was a determined man, driven, focused, but… also bluntly honest. And… good.” Her own expression started to soften as she reflected on her time with the Khadai. “He helped me, and I him. I aided him in retrieving what he needed to return to his people.” Roen studied the Xaela as she continued, but she had not forgotten about Ashur. She knew that as the conversation went on, it was inevitable that more details would be shared, those that he would likely be keenly interested in, that she had purposefully not spoke of. But she too was getting tired of the run around and the insinuations. If she and Ashur hoped to help his mother, learn of the keystone, and also warn Kasrjin’s people, all the cards had to be laid out for everyone to see.
  23. Roen

    Remnants

    Roen noticed the pause as well. She didn’t know this Xaela at all, and she was infuriatingly self-possessed, to the point of arrogance. Which meant that she felt no threat in this situation and she was used to controlling the circumstances and events around her. As Roen recalled the various details that Kasrjin shared about the Tsenkhai, she was not surprised. And it made her all that more suspicious and wary. But this Xaela was the only point of contact they had so far. She was their only link. If what she said of the rest of her tribe was true, there would be none of Kasrjin’s people found at the Reunion. They had no choice but to deal with this woman, if what she claimed to be was true. But there were also her peculiar choices in words. Why did she phrase things as she did? As if Kasrjin would be forced into captivity? Not allowed to leave? “You are right. I know not of your people. Only what I learned in the short time that I traveled with the Khadai of whom I speak. But I hope what you are implying is false. That he would be kept locked away for his own safety. He has a will of his own. He risked his life to fulfill what he was sent out to do, to save his people. That deserves recognition, but also freedom so that he could make more choices for himself. He chose to return back home for the good of all.” Roen paused, before she accidentally shared anything out loud about the betrayal. That was his secret, not hers. But her frown remained. “But he hoped that should I seek out his people at the Reunion, that someday we may meet again. He did not return home to be sequestered away from the rest of the world.” Roen watched her closely as she continued. “I know some things of your ways, and that the Tsenkhai decides what is best for all. Would you have decided the same for him then?”
  24. Roen

    Remnants

    Roen eyed the movements of both Ashur and the Xaela, holding out her palms towards both of them to calm the situation. “I assure you, conflict with anyone from your tribe is not what we seek." She gave Ashur a pointed look first, before turning to fully face the Xaela. “We are not here to rob anyone. And… if it is as you say and the Aljai will be not visiting the Reunion in the near future… then you are the best chance we have.” Roen was not hesitant to admit things as they were. “And I had asked about my friend because…” Her voice quieted, her brows pulled with concern. “I was worried for him. That is all. His time in Ishgard was not necessarily without danger.” She pressed her lips for a moment in thought, wondering if she should continue. But she had already decided to trust Ashur enough to accompany him, and now she needed to at least earn the same from this Xaela as well, if they hoped to gain her aid in any of this. “You may not know all the Khadai, but surely you must know of the one that was once Tsenkhai.” She was gambling that such a thing was not a common occurrence within his people. “He was sent west to retrieve an item that would save his people. Surely, you must know of this particular Khadai.”
×
×
  • Create New...