Chronicles of Kaelivh Stormborn

[Zhauric]

Kaelivh remained on the beach for a time after Gal’s departure. His gaze was cast ahead, riding along the currents of the waters spread out before him like a blanket upon the world. In his right hand he held the metal flask that he rose to his lips. The pull he drew from the flask sent the alcohol down his throat accompanied by a slight burning sensation. At this point he had grown numb to that feeling and almost welcomed it every time.

 

 

 

 

“Yeah, but I got shite to do, don’t I?” he said aloud to himself while replacing the top on the flask.

He had spent the evening searching for information regarding Valiant Pride, the Immortal Flames airship that held a cargo hold full of various weapons meant for lands Kaelivh wasn’t allowed to hold knowledge of. He moved from tavern to the next listening, sorting out folks and discerning anything he thought would be useful since those who were filling his coin purse were choosing to be anything but helpful.

Yet they want me to find these weapons or the raiders responsible for taking the cargo? The Flames can get voidsent for shite like this for all I care.

Yet a job was a job and Kaelivh had to admit he needed something to preoccupy his mind rather than the memories that wrenched him out of his sleep far too many nights. It had gotten to the point he barely registered sleep choosing to instead saunter through day by day despite the fog descending over his mind with the lack of rest.

“No avoiding it, is there?” he said aloud with a resigned sigh. “Time to find a place to bed for the night.”

 

 

He found her sitting on the bench surrounded by shrubbery and flowers peaking beneath the touch of the sun. It had been the bench they occupied many days and some nights. She had chosen to teach him how to read there and shared her life experiences with many wrapped in laughter and smiles.

Not now. This time she sat there with her hands folded within her lap, eyes downcast like a burden laid upon her shoulders. Her raven black hair cascaded over her features hiding them from his prying eyes while her willowy white gown seemed to shift slightly in the breeze. Her hands seemed to cradle something in her lap. Something that could fit in the palm of her hands but he was not close enough to truly see past the shadows of her looming over the object.

Kaelivh stepped closer without speaking a word.

Dragging her gaze upwards he found himself meeting emerald green eyes settled in an oval shaped face with a peach cream complexion. She stared at him as if not truly seeing him and slowly, gradually, raised her cupped hands…

The heart still beat with a pulsating beat. Blood that was not there before slithered over her fingers with an agonizingly slow drip toward the stone floor beneath her feet.

Kaelivh blinked.

More blood covered her hands down to her wrist. She held the heart up like an offering. A slow spreading of blood began to bloom in the center of her chest.

Kaelivh blinked again.

The blood from her wrists traveled down to her elbows like it sought to crawl along her flesh…

“Where were you?” her voice nearly whispered through cracked lips.

 

Kaelivh jerked upright in the bed. The blanket had fell from his upper torso revealing his form to while air was swallowed into his lungs and expelled deeply.  His eyes shifted within the room in a frantic search that would yield him nothing but at the same time everything. They brought the realization in slow and agonizing seconds that he was still alone and that he was still trapped in a prison of his own making.

Hurling the sheet aside he reached for the flask on his night stand, hesitated, then dropped his hand.

I can’t keep going like this, he thought. I have to find out what happened to her or it’ll be the damned end of me.

Gathering himself, he climbed out of the bed and stepped toward the window. His gaze swept into the evening while he continued to take calming deep breaths. The dreams seemed to vary so much with little in common except to mark him at fault for what had happened. Guilt wrapped around him like a coat but he knew it was one of his own weaving. His presence had been aboard his sister's ship, Stormdancer, when the one woman he had ever given himself to had been taken from the known world.

Standing there he shook his head as if that could rid him the remnants of the dream that haunted the corners of his mind yet still. It had been too vivid and darker than he had grown accustomed to. Did some sort of symbolism lie in the giving of her heart that he wasn't aware of? Then again what symbolism could lie within such images when he was his own jailer, his own judge and executioner.

Kaelivh sighed heavily before moving back toward the bed and falling to sit on the very edge. He buried his face in his palms feeling the weariness creeping through every fiber of his being. He knew he would attempt to sleep again because his body had grown to the point of demanding such.

 

 

 

Did I fail you, Maeliel, or is all this torture only me trying to find yet another reason to punish myself for something in life, he thought to himself. I don't even know the answer to my own questions except for one truth. I need to find out what happened to you and see if I can right that wrong if there is ever to be some damned peace to my own soul.

With that final thought he sighed heavily before lying down once more seeking the peace in slumber he craved so much.

 

[Zhauric]

I couldn’t help but think if I really wanted to be here once more. Already an inkling was telling me that First Flame Lieutenant Greaves didn’t send for me to visit his lovely and bubbly office for a friendly chat about the latest gladiator match over tea and cakes. Not that I am a fan of either but a little alcohol mixed in that tea sure wouldn’t hurt to turn this meeting into something more than a pain in my arse. I had went through a sequence of thoughts on my trek to the officer’s office to trace back what had been written in my reports regarding the missing weapons. Once satisfied I raised my hand toward the oak door’s surface.

 

Knocking on the door I was greeted with the deep and bellowing voice of Greaves barreling out from behind the door for me to enter. Taking one more heavy sigh before opening the door I stepped into an adequately sized office with the Midlander officer Greave rising to his feet behind his wooden desk. His better years had obviously went by and he seemed to be fighting to keep the building bulge in his midsection from poking out and introducing itself.

 

A glance to my left I noticed that someone in an Immortal Flames uniform sat there. Rigid shoulders, straight back, clenched fists on his thighs marked this one easily as someone getting their arse handed to them. All I could see was the jet-black hair and olive skin from my position but whoever they were they didn’t bother acknowledging that I entered the room. Inwardly I merely shrugged at the indifference since he was the one missing out on my winning personality after all.

 

“Stormborn, glad you made it here,” Greaves said extending his hand.

I stepped toward the desk to accept the hand. “Missed me that much, eh? Must be my charm.”

Greaves grunted at that before nodding at the chair across him and to the side of the still seated figure. A glance gave me a better look and I immediately placed him in his early to mid twenties and noticed the rank of Flame Sergeant Third Class. He didn’t bother looking in my direction as I seated myself and waited for Greaves to handle the introductions. Already I found myself oh so giddy in anticipation.

 

“Stormborn, this is Flame Sergeant Third Class Thorne.”

 

Thorne finally chose to turn his head my direction at this point though he might as well have not bothered. In those small brown eyes only stood contempt. I didn’t recall his face and don’t remember doing much to piss anyone off in the day or hours. Granted anything after a day’s period was a roll of the bones whether I did something of the like so I ignored him and turned my attention back to Greaves.

 

“Is this about the weapons shipment I’m tracking?” I asked trying to cut to the point.

 

“No,” Greaves said waving a dismissive hand. “This is something else entirely though a person you mentioned in your report is more centered in this one. Gal Kamille was being questioned recently by the Sergeant here and apparently his questioning techniques did not fit her liking. To say her cooperation went out the door would be putting it nicely.”

 

Gal again. Well, maybe this would turn out to be interesting after all. I had already began calling her ‘Legs’ in my head but decided it was unprofessional to think that in the office of your employer. At least that was how I explained it to myself.

 

“Fill me in,” I said simply without looking at Thorne.

And did Greaves ever. Not only did the sergeant botched the questioning but also decided putting his hands on the person of interest was the smart play of things. I didn’t hide my distaste for the way Thorne had handled the questioning with the look I threw his way but remained silent to make sure not to interrupt Greaves before he laid out all the facts for me.

 

“So how many times?” I asked Thorne once Greaves finished.

 

The sergeant looked at me confused which, unsurprising, seemed rather natural on his face.

 

“How many times what?” he snapped in retort when he recovered from his confusion.

 

“How many times did your Ma drop you on your head as a babe for you to get this damned dense?”

 

Thorne leaped to his feet at my words despite the fact I remained seated looking up him. My disinterest and boredom had to be rather obvious on my own features because I heard Greaves chuckle slightly before he ordered the sergeant to remember himself and sit down. Once he finally did we continued with this meeting that still left alcohol out of attendance.

 

“Okay, here is where things went wrong,” I said finally leaning forward with my forearms pressed to my thighs. “One, Gal can’t be intimidated. Learn the reputation of your subject 'fore ya go doing something like that. Everything I heard on her tells me that type of strong arming does nothing. The damned woman is part of an airship team and lives on the edge of life.

 

"Second, it sounds like her reaction speaks of a connection to the missing target. A connection that means something to her.”

 

“And!?” Thorne barked from his seat.

 

“And…you machina genius you…that means she isn’t responsible. She may know who does though and that means you need her cooperation. Ya need her on your team. Do you go putting your hands on those you need something from and expect their loyalty?” I shook my head. “You meet them halfway. She respects honest word and all the shite to be tossed aside. You came at her like the enemy. That shite not going to work on her.”

 

I fell silent letting my words sink in for both of them before I spoke again with my eyes directly boring into Thorne.

 

“And if I was there I would have broke that damned arm you used to put your hands on her,” I told him without a waver in my tone. “Get upset 'bout it for all I give a damn cause I don’t. Don’t care Greaves is here. He knows I mean my word.” Having enough of the idiot for the moment I turned to Greaves. “I can see what she knows or if I can be of some help and let ya know how it comes out. Retainer fee should suffice depending how deep the shite is on this one. Will need to know all ya got on the missing target.”

 

Greaves nodded. “Anything else?”

 

“Yeah. Keep this dumb shite away from me,” I said nodding in Thorne’s direction while rising to my feet. “He’s the type that fucks things up for others to clean up. I’m pretty handy with a broom but rather not be cleaning, if ya get the drift.”

 

“Unfortunately, I do,” Greaves responded while shooting a dark glance in Thorne’s direction. “Let me know what you learn immediately.”

 

I gave him a mock salute since my military days were behind me and I held absolutely zero interest in returning and then walked out the door. The moment the door closed I could hear Greaves bellowing at Thorne again. That gave me a smirk before I grabbed my flask, uncorked the top and took a slight pull.

 

It was time to get my day in motion once more and go greet a nice pair of legs while I was at it.

[Zhauric]

I found myself doing a slow double take when I sat up in bed in the morning. Under the sheets of the bed I could see the curved shape of her figure while her fire touched red hair splayed itself over the pillow. The swell of her breasts rising and falling with every breath beneath the night shirt she wore and pale skin seemed to be illuminated though no light filtered into the room.

Red and right now she was my Red.

It was a bit mind boggling how this came about and the suddenness of it all. It began with her calling me over while a friend of hers and she spoke to each other regarding a simple dish the friend, Shida, had prepared. Before I knew it Lizbette, or Red as I have come to call her, had me sampling the dish and then later a glass of wine. That evening the three of us chatted and there were moments that Shida questioned if she should run away due to the innuendo that had been taking place between Liz and I. Even now I chuckle at the memory.

 

When we met again I had found her reclining in Ul'dah. I thank the Twelve she didn't know how she filled my vision when I saw her. Well, I at least believe I played it off with some sort of casualness that I didn't feel at the sight of her sitting there. The moment she invited me to join her I knew I was done for. There was simply no way I was going to be able to exist near this woman and not get caught up in that damn firestorm her presence brought upon me. The invitation to sit even closer did nothing to quell the potency of that rising inferno.

 

 

We sat there speaking to one another and things fell into the background. I didn't care who was around. I didn't care about the blocks I came across in my current investigation. I didn't care about anything except that woman sitting right there next to me who at times leaned into me like she had the other night on occasion. Before I was aware we were making plans to visit the snows of Ishgard and challenging each other with the threat of snowballs and a lightness that I haven't felt for years. This woman who still held a bruise from dealing with a drunkard at her tavern and knuckles still scoffed from connecting with his jaw had more shades to her than I expected.

 

And I was easily mesmerized by her.

 

She joined me at the Proving Grounds after handling some affairs to observe the contest amongst the many skilled gladiators. I could sense the brutality of some of the fights made her feel a touch uneasy though not in some squeamish manner. I knew she was not unaccustomed to physical conflict herself but she displayed honest concern for those combating below. For me this was just yet another benefit to the shape of this woman. Too many times I have come upon those who relished in the brutality and violence that stalked the world around us or gave it such a casual shrug that empathy no longer seemed part of the pattern.

 

 

Late into the contest we decided to make wagers between ourselves on which fighter would win. No gil but the promise of a single question, any question, to be asked of the other at that individual's discretion. We both won a match and chose not to wager on the final thinking the larger man, Garinn, would win though we both were proven wrong on that point. I stood there as the fighting came to an end behind the cheers of a raucous crowd of betters and onlookers trying to fixate my mind on what I could possibly ask this woman for her honest word upon.

 

 

 

We retired in the evening for her to tour me through the quarters of the crew her cousin stood amongst and who she worked alongside. It was an interesting place and intriguing with the things they had gathered during their travels but I admit my eyes were on her any time her back had turned. The sway of her hips, the flow of her enflamed hair, the softness of her pale skin. She easily, simply, brought the man out of me that had been so dormant for so long. How did she do this so quickly? So naturally like drawing a breath?

 

That's when we settled for shots of whiskey and she decided to take her winnings and ask me the question that had immediately leapt into her mind when she won that wager. In a roundabout way she wanted to see if her mixed Garlean blood would sway my feelings. If I was a man who enjoyed the blood that sat upon my hands as an ex-soldier and I immediately gave her my honest word.

 

 

It did not. It was about who she was as Lizbette, Red. Not about her ancestry or the blood that coursed through her veins. I didn't want to also say it was about how she made me feel and how my eyes were drawn to her even with a world existing around us. So many years I had dealt with the pain of loss. So many years I felt hollow and like an echo existed within and this woman, this woman found a way to put a stitch of mending to it. Am I complete? Am I who I was before? No. Not yet. Of course not. But the fact that any rejuvenation had begun held me in awe of what Liz's presence did for me.

 

She asked me to stay the night with her and I was not foolish enough to say no. Despite the sight of her bare skin in some places, the knowing and flowing curves of her figure, there was no sexual intimacy between us. Even though we did as we were growing accustomed to playfully enjoy other's presence in teasing manner, we went through the evening with her in my arms while we slept. I cannot even recall the last time I slept with a woman, that was not my late wife, in such a way and did not actually bed her.  

 

And I was more than okay with that. I was at peace for an evening with no trespassing by the nightmares that often anchored themselves to my slumber. I was able to sleep soundly and through a night with my Red in my arms and once again understand what tranquility beneath a night's curtain felt like.

 

Turning, I leaned over her sleeping form and softly kissed her temple. "Thank you," I whispered softly and slowly began to rise for my upcoming meeting.