Hydaelyn Role-Players

~Death~

The blackness.  The black eyes gazed at the blackness, the veil engulfing the form as the soul crossed over.  Forms and shapes shifted, voices, sounds, the moving.  Familiar faces.  The black eyes recognized. Death was taking the form into it's embrace.  To the beyond, to whatever lay beyond. 

And then the blue chain flew across the veil and hooked the form, jerking it, anchoring it to a will as strong as it's own.  The black eyes swiveled back around and looked as it tried to jerk free of the chain.  More blue chains with thick hooks anchored the form and the black eyes saw a figure in all black on the life side of the veil anchoring the chains. 

"Do not retreat any further."  hissed a known voice from beneath the hood as it secured his chains.  "I have need of your will."

(Wrote at work on cell phone. Please forgive spelling mistakes lol.)

The clocks on the walls ticked in unison, mixing with the gentle hum of machinery that purred softly in the dimly illuminated workshop.  Askier sat hunched over one of his desks, a small mound of tools and papers surrounding him as his golden eyes looked on as his right hand continued to make modifications to the left arm, which currently was half taken apart, with wires and plates and screws all played out. 

The engineer had not slept much as of late, and during one of his tired stupors he had realized a brilliant idea. The dark bags under his eyes were deep as he removed the six chamber cylinder from the gun blade Kahn'a had given him and mounted it into the firing slot he was building into the forearm of his mechanical limb. 

The miqo'te examined the the limb and then looked at the metal fingers hand and made three of the fingers form a strange sequence of motions. The cylender spun and the hammer clicked down on the empty chamber. The Garlean repeated this ten more times and then smiled as he went about mounting the barrel and attaching additional wires to the arm. Askier might not have full control over the mechanical arm or be able to feel with it, but he was going to be sure he was always armed with it. He was never going to be caught off guard again, not like the time he had lost his arm.

A sudden murmering caused the engineer to lift his head as his ears flicked. He couldn't see the bed nor the woman asleep upon it, but he knew she was there. Askier stared at the place she slept through the half wall and sighed. 

She was the reason he couldn't sleep. For the past few days all he could do was think about her and what she meant to him now and how he was going to explain things he had to tell her eventually. It had been five years and then suddenly she was back in his life. The Garlean was tired of his past coming back into his life.  But this time he was also glad his past had come back into his life.

Askier yawned and turned back to his hand. Machines and bombs were simple, relationships were complicated and at that moment Askier just wanted simplicity as he focused back on his arm modifications.  He could worry about love and relationships in the morning.

((Repeat from Kage's Alternative Timeline writing prompt. Figured I put in here as a dream sequence and then write a new part about Askier's reaction to the dream when he woke up.))

Askier gazed at himself in the mirror, his brown hair slicked back behind his ears and his Garlean dress uniform was pressed. His face was free of scars and his bushy tail swished to-and-fro in excitement, though his face was covered in a calm smile.

He had made it at last.  Captain Mergrey of the Garlean Army, one of the few miqo'te to ever have reached such a rank, and an honor he never would have received if had not been for the political maneuverings of his father-in-law, Adin Adonis.

Askier flashed himself a toothy smile then and stood straight.  He recalled that moment, five years ago, when the Calmity had rocked his faith in  the Empire's power.  He had almost fled, almost given up his life here, run with his sister like a coward.  But Adin's adopted daughter, Ashwynn, had talked him out of it.  He had listened to her.  And here he was, five years later, a captain, a husband, a father, an uncle to his sister's children, and well respected for his engineering feats in the realm of explosives. 

The miqo'te turned and looked behind him as the door to his office opened.  Askier's office was richly decorated, with deep, mahogany desks and walls, thick, red carpets beneath his feet, and large windows overlooking the city.  Askier smiled as he saw the white-haired miqo'te that stepped through the door.

"Master Mergrey, my Master Adonis and Lady Ashywnn are here for you."

"Jin'li." Askier replied, his voice polite but stern.  "Please, let them in and then have a seat, you aren't looking well."  It was true, the white-haired slave of his father-in-law was looking sicker and sicker each time Askier saw him.  Askier felt sorry for the frail male.  Adin had told Askier Jin'li wasn't long for this world and Askier would miss the white-haired servant.  Jin'li was the most loyal person Askier had ever met, and certainly the most polite.

"This slave is happy to serve, Master Mergrey."  Jin'li said flatly as he then held the door open.  Ashwynn was the first to enter.  Askier looked at his wife and smiled as he saw the small bundle she carried. 

The miqo'te couple meet in the middle of the room and kissed for a moment before Askier looked back and gazed into her ice-blue eyes.

"And how are the two of you doing?"  Askier inquired with a grin, his teeth flashing.  Ashwynn shrugged playfully. 

"Would be better if you were home more, instead of making me drag our daughter up her to see you."  Ashwynn replied, feigning annoyance.  Askier knew she didn't mind that much.  Well, maybe a little.

"Well, I'm sure she enjoys the traveling."  Askier replied with a wink as he looked down at his little girl and felt his heart melt as the little face looked back up at him, her mismatched eyes fixed on his own.  One of the little girl's eyes was gold, the other, ice blue.  Askier held the gaze with his daughter for a moment and then looked back up at his wife and gave her another kiss.

"Captain Mergrey!"  thundered a voice and the couple separated as Askier lept back and stood at attention.  A tall, elderly Garlean entered the room,  a grey beard on his chin and wrinkles around his three eyes.  The tall man wore the uniform of a Garlean major and marched straight up to Askier.

Askier went to give the man a salute, but Adin wrapped the smaller male in a hug and laughed.

"You should have seen your face!" Adin chuckled as he released his son-in-law.  Askier gave a sheepish grin as Adin tussled his hair.

"When you use that title, I'm not sure if you are addressing me as your relative or subordinate."  Askier admitted.

"Well, right now, this is to see my granddaughter spend some time with her father.  I'm taking you out to dinner.  Immediately."

"But I need to keep working on the prototype weapon.  If the operation against Ul'dah is-"

"Ul'dah?" Ashwynn inquired.  Adin gave Askier a disapproving look and then looked at his daughter.

"We'll discuss it over dinner.  I'll send Jin'li to fetch Saravena so she can join us.  Shall we?"  Adin looked at Askier.  Askier knew he couldn't say no, even if he had wanted to.  A free dinner was something he would never pass up. 

"Why not?  No place I'd rather be than dinner with my family."  Askier mused as he walked over and took his long, black coat off a peg and slipped it on as Jin'li held the door open for them to leave.  "No place I'd rather be."

***

Askier awoke and blinked as he gazed up at the stars overhead.  The night wind blew, dusting his face with specks of black powder from the open barrel next to his head.  The miqo'te grunted and sat up.  Drumstick lay next to him, slowly breathing as the chocobo slumbered.  Askier smiled at the bird and gently patted the animal's head.

"Funny, only place I can sleep well is next to a bird."  Askier remarked with a tender smile at the animal that had saved his life so many times.

"Squawk."  Drumstick answered sleepily as the bird opened his black eyes and blinked.

Askier kept petting Drumstick as he looked up at the stars, the grass of Red Wing HQ waving in the wind.

Askier thought back on his dream.  The possibility of what his life might have been if he hadn't run.  If he had stayed for Ashwynn. 

"Maybe I did cock it all up."  Askier sighed, speaking to his bird.  "Maybe I should have stayed.  Adin would be alive, Saravena never would have been in a cell, and Ashwynn would still have a home.  And I never would have been skinned alive."  Askier shuddered despite the warm air.  Askier looked around him.  How much of the recent event in Ul'dah had been his fault?  How much of the death and suffering had been related to his selfish flight from the Empire?  How much?

Askier reached over to his bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.  The miqo'te took the bottle, and, with practiced skilled, pulled the stopper out with his teeth and drank a quarter of the bottle in two swigs. 

Askier coughed a bit as the burning fluid ran down his throat.  He hadn't had whiskey since he and Roen had spent that time on the boat, but he needed it now.  Drumstick looked at him and the Garlean pulled the bottle from his lips.

"What you want?  Some booze?"  Askier grunted as he met the bird's gaze.  Drumstick stood up and suddenly snatched the bottle from Askier's hands before the chocobo threw it off the cliff with a jerk of his neck.

"Hey, I was- ack!"  Askier was cut off as Drumstick suddenly flopped down on Askier and pinned the miqo'te beneath his body.  Askier squirmed but could not free himself as the bird put it's head on his chest and went:

"Squawk!" 

Then Drumstick closed his eyes and went to sleep, leaving Askier looking up at the stars and forced to think.

"Ruddy bird." Askier grumbled as his right hand started petting the bird.

"Least running away let me meet you.  I just hope this all works out, you know?  Is it too much to just want to be happy and carefree?"  Askier sighed as he spoke to his mount as the wind moaned through the Goblet.

The elezen gazed from beneath the brim of his cowl as his dull eyes stared intently at the walking miqo'te.  The elezen scratched his chin as he sent his will out and examined the aether flow radiating from the miqo'te.  It was sufficient. It was not the best host for the soul he had chained but the soul was fading, death leeching away the qualities it had once had, the qualities the elezen had wanted in the first place. 

The hooded and brown robed elezen waved his left hand and two figures, dressed in ordinary garb began to follow the miqo'te.  Both men we unremarkable save that the left half of their faces were tattooed black, just like the elezen's was.

The elderly elezen turned and began to stride through the leaf covered street of Gridania. This miqo'te would serve as the perfect coil for his newest "crow." The elezen gazed around him as he went, smelling the scent of rot around him as he ground fallen leaves beneath his heels.

His god was the god of death, the merchant of souls, and he was the voice and will of his god, the instrument that would return his god to its mortal coil and flood the markets of the underworld with countless souls when the time came. And death always came in time.

The afternoon sun was sweltering and heat waves rolled above the city street, which was sparsly populated at this time of the day as most people tried to avoid the sweltering heat.

Askier envied those people as he strolled down the street, his boots clicking on the stones beneath as he neared the Gate of the Sultana. Sweat was running down his brow and his face paint was smeared all over his cheeks as the wind tugged at his Flame uniform. 

The miqo'te brushed his long hair out of his face and ran a gloved hand across his brow.  The former Garlean looked up at the blazing sun, alone in a empty, blue sky 

"A grenade for a cloud." Askier said as he locked his dry lips. It had been a long walk so far, and he still had a few hours left on his patrol. Askier was about to resume walking when a voice shouted behind him.

"Hey terrorist! Get out of that uniform and out of Ul'dah!"

Askier sighed. This again. His hecklers were back. Ever since Askier had joined Red Wings he had been dealing with lynch mobs, muggings, and constant insults aimed at his person. 

Askier was about to turn around when the brick slammed into the back of his head and sent him onto his hands and knees. Askier blinked in shock and he was motionless for a few moments until he saw blood dripping from his cheeks onto the hot stones. 

Askier rose to his feet, his right hand clutching the bleeding bruise on the back of his head. His golden eyes swept the area. A few people gazed at him with horrified expressions but there was no sign of the man whom had thrown the brick. 

Askier stiffly moved over to the shade and sat down with a groan, blood trickling down the back of his neck onto his uniform. The miqo'te raised his mechanical hand to his ear and pressed his linkpearl. 

"Alexei. I'm at the Gate of the Sultana. Need you to take a look at my head."

Askier let the metal arm fall to his side as he pulled his right hand from the back of his head and let his golden eyes examine the blood covering his glove.

"Ul'dah. Home sweet home." Askier said with a deep, pained sigh as he put his right hand back on his bleeding wound and looked up at the tall buildings around him.

"Sometimes I wish I had blown it all up."

The inn at Black Brush station was eerily empty. The receptionist sat in a chair behind the desk as a low, howling moan filled the stone room. Outside a massive dust storm raged. There had been no guests all day.

That changed in an instant.

The door to the inn opened violently as the wind blew both the door and a robed and masked figure through the door. Sand swept and danced across the stones and the receptionist sighed as he rose and took hold of a broom as the new arrival shut the door and began removing his mask.

Golden locks tipped with black hung around his narrow face as a golden goatee covered the lower part of his chin. His tail swished aboit excitedly as the miqo'te tipped his head to one side and used his left hand to knock the sand out of his ears.

"Do you have any rooms, or a cot I could sleep on till storm passes over?" The sand covered miqo'te asked, his voice polite and he smiled as he realized how silly he looked when his eyes noted the receptionists face.

"Aye" the receptionist replied , pulling out a large book and a quil. "Just need your mark on the page and the gil."

"Certainly my kind sir!" The miqo'te beamed as he strode across the room, his one black eye and one gold eye gazing around the room as he approached the counter. He took the quill and scrim led his name on the page.

"Don't suppose you've seen a short, white haired miqo'te recently?" The blond male asked as he finished writing.  "Heard rumor my little brother was down in these parts and have come looking for him."

"Your brother?" The receptionist asked as he thought. " Plenty of white haired miqo'te. What was the-'


The receptionist looked down at the page and read the name the miqo'te had just written. The receptionist was still for a moment. As the receptionist lifted his head, he pointed towards the door.

"Get out."

"What?" The blonde asked with a awkward grin, raising his hands. "What do I-'

The receptionist pulled a sword out and held it in his hand. The blond blinked and nodded. 


"Alright. No trouble wanted. I'm going!' The blonde stammered in fear as he backed away quickly.

"You want your brother, ask a Flame." The receptionist answered darkly as the blond reached the door. The miqo'te nodded as he fumbled for the handle. Upon finding it, he turned it and raced into the storm, shutting the door behind him.

The receptionist looked down at the page and and the name the man had written:

Jin'to Epinoch.

The receptionist tore the page out, crumpled it slowly and then let it burn over the candle Flickering beside him.

Askier sat at the edge of the bed. The sounds of the Molbovine Clan's home were different than his home in Ul'dah. And it smelled different. So many smells filled the air, each more interesting than the last. Askier wondered if most gatherings of Keepers had so many smells.

The Garlean Keeper twitched his tail on the bed as he held a half-full bottle of whiskey in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot from hours of crying and lack of sleep.

Alexei was dead. Askier had to face that. The hyur, his dear friend, was gone and seeing the metal hand holding the bottle made the loss even more painful and reminded him of his friend and how he had installed Askier's arm.

Metal arms. Askier took a drink. It had been for a bag of metal limbs Alexei had died for. The two of them had planned to learn to make them so they could make them on their own for wounded veterens. But now. . .

"I should have planned the Castrum raid better." Askier whispered, his voice harsh as his stomach knotted. " I should have done so much different. . ."

Askier thought of the dead body of his friend and his lifeless eyes. He wasn't angry at the Garlean that had sniped Alexei as they had fled, alarms wailing. The sniper was just a soldier doing his job. Askier had once been -that- garlean to these Eorzeans.

Askier felt his lip curl slightly but he was too tired to express his anger as he buried his grief. The fact that his unit was going to torture a soldier of the Empire for doing his job. .  That Garlean soldier had a mother and friends and. . .

"Fucking hypocritical assholes." Askier groweled softly and his metal hand suddenly twitched and shut into a fist, shattering the bottle. The Keeper fixed the puddle and broken glass and pulled off his coat. Askier used the coat to dry up the whiskey and then he began the long process of picking up the broken glass and putting them in a small box.

Once the mess was cleaned, Askier curled up into a ball and tried to sleep. It took a long time and several soft sobs but Askier finally slipped into sleep, a small part of him excited to fix the cannon Khit had mentioned, while the rest of him wallowed in remorse for his deceased friend.

Askier trudged along the road, the air growing cold as he headed for the mountains.north of the Black Shroud. His red coat was actually correct attire for the chilled air.

The miqo'te was swearing in the Garlean tongue and livid. 

His world was shattered. His best friends torturers. He couldn't stand that fact. It made him squirm. Made him think of his own weeks of pain at Itar's hands. How he had screamed. How his friends had saved him, held him to make him feel safe again, held him with hands that did the same.

Osric and Kahn'a kept trying to justify there actions, saying it had been for information. But Askier's mind couldn't process that. Not wouldn't. Couldn't. To him, torture was no longer okay. And to think they had been his friends.

Askier screamed in anger, pulled out a hand grenade and threw it, the pin in his teeth. A huge eption tore trees to splinters and fire danced in his eyes.

Askier snarled and opened his coat. Dozens of explosives lined the inner wall of his coat and the Garlean miqo'te reached inside and began pulling them free and throwing them around him. 

In a matter of moments a small area of forest was nothing more than a ring of shattered remains and charred husks. Smoke and fire rose into the sky as more foliage slowly burned. Askier was breaking heavily and laughing as he filled his lungs with the destruction.

"Those trees didn't suffer!  Their death was so quick! I was kind to them." Askier then turned on his heel and marched back south.

Ashwynn wasn't safe without him. He couldn't leave her alone with those monsters, those animals that had torutred Alexei's killer as a revenge killing. He would keep her safe. And recover more of his explosive -toys- while he was at it.

Askier sat hunched over his work station, his eyes fixed on the device he was rigging before him. The door to the room.was locked and Ashwynn sat nearby reading a book and sipping tea, utterly unconcerned that her fiancee was building a bomb not ten feet away. This sort of thing was 'normal'.

Askier licked his lips as he turned a screw, mounting the denonator to the barrel that housed his blasting powerder. The barrel was airtight and coated with an oily substance that had then been covered by canvas wrappings. The detonator had been sunk into the middle of the barrel and would shoot a fiery charge into the blasting powder once the pin of the blasting cap was pulled and the thirty second timer ticked down. Thirty seconds would just be enough time.to escape the blast radius. Askier enjoyed cutting it close with his timers and fuses.  And there would be no going back.

Once that timer was ticking it wasn't stopping. Askier had added extra wires and cables and was dealing the device shut with screws to enclose the inner workings. 

Askier turned the final screw tight and stood up, stretching his tense and stiff back. He smiled as he looked up at Ashwynn, who looked over at him, then his bomb, then him.

"I promise I won't blow off anything else." Askier said with a grin. Ashwynn rolled her eyes and went back to reading.

Askier picked up his device with a grunt, it was fairly heavy, walked to the door, unlocked it, and headed out, smiling and looking forward setting his device off.

Askier stood in an alleyway, his red coat wrapping his body against the chill of the desert night.  The Garlean was chewing a hunk of chocobo jerky and pondering his Drumstick tasted this good when he heard the voice and turned. 

A hooded and robed figure stood there. A scarf was wrapped around the lower face and the eyes were covered in goggles.  Askier snorted as swallowed his food before speaking.

"Cute theatrics." Askier snorted.

"A person in my position can't be seen meeting you."

"Yeah, whatever." Askier replied dismisivly.  "You have what I asked for?"

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't." the figure said reaching into his robe and pulling out a metal cylinder. The figure twisted the top and slid it aside just far enough for Askier to see onside as he stepped forward. The Garlean's face twitched before he smiled , his fangs glinting in the dull glow that spilled from the tube.

 Cerelium.

Askier reached into his coat and pulled out a bag and held it to the figure.  The two traded items at the same time. Askier shut the large container as he placed it on the ground. 

Meanwhile, the figure opened the bag and reached in pulling  out a . . .

"Lug nuts?!" The figure exclaimed but Askier lunged forward, his metal hand seizing the figure' face as his right hand pulled out a knife and plunged it into the figure's chest. The blade dug in deep, and drew a stream of blood. Askier withdrew the blade and Began frantically stabbing as he spoke, a wild look in his eyes.

"Silence lose tongues. Fun lesson I've learned."

Askier then plunged the dagger into the figure's heart and kicked the body away as it twitched in its death throws. Askier looked down at the dead figure and shivered from excitement as he felt the warm blood dripping off his hand.  

After a moment of silence, the Garlean retrieved the canisiter of cerelium. Askier then stepped over the pooling blood filling the alley and slowly made his way through the back streets of Ul'dah.

Forest green boots lined in gold trim up the outside plodded alongside a matching pair of black ones, their movements almost matching even as they rounded the corner going down one of the back alleys within the city. 

"I just wanted to check in with you, was all Kanaria. See how you were doing after the recent findings. I mean, Jin'li stuck inside a female's body... Hell, I still can't get that morning out of my head where Desmond walked out fondling his newly acquired breasts... I don't want to know what else he did with that body of yours...Ugh." Speaking as she rounded the corner with the flaxen haired Hyur at her side.

Lavender eyes shifted to Thrysa a time or two as she spoke, nodding to her. Kanaria grumbled softly and rolled her eyes, the image of another doing such disgusting her. She wrinkled her nose. "You know they still haven't fou-Ah!" A foot caught on a something sturdy and slightly rolled with her as she tried to take the next step but caught as well. Hands quickly pushed out, but she only saved her head from hitting the floor. "Oomph." 

"Kanaria are you all-..." Her eyes panned down to the ground where her legs hung draped over the body. "Um..." She licked her lips, the scent of blood and a few other familiar aromas hitting her nostrils. "Someone is going to be in trouble..." 

"I'm fine but what in the ruttin' 'ell..." Speaking as she pulled her legs to her, the toes of her boots sliding though the blood over the stonework. She stood slowly and turned her eyes to where Thrysa's were and gasped. "Oh dear, had to be the night that I came back, didn't it." Shaking her head she pulled her hand up to her ear. 


"Ossy... I need you here in Ul'dah as soon as possible, there's a body in the alley off of Pearl Lane. Bring help."

"I'm close to the Weavers Guild."

"See you and the others soon."

While Kanaria was speaking over the pearl to her other half, Thysa had crouched down, inspecting the body. She didn't touch it at all, knew better in her dealings with other such things. 

"Find anything?" She asked, lifting a brow and bent down with her, looking over the guised figure and the blood pool that surrounded him. "Hmm... what's this?" Brows furrowed as a gloved hand reached out and pulled the bag open with a finger. "Eh, lug nuts? Seems whatever this man was being paid for in trade got the shaft..."

"Got more than that Kanaria... He's dead.. Well, if it is a he... That... and he's been stabbed several times..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, trying to sort out the different scents around them. "Mm. Gods there's... there's a mixture of smells here that are really really familiar, but..." She growled low. "I can't..." She balled her right hand into a fist and shook it as she pursed her lips, irritated with herself. "It's so familiar, I just can't put a finger on it..."

With a sigh she pushed up with her feet and came to as stand. "Well we best wait for Ossy and the others before we doing anything more. "Help me stand guard 'til he gets here?"

A slow shake of her head was given. "No... I can't..." She sniffed at the air again. "I'm going to follow this and see where it leads. Call me and let me know if you find out anything more. Oh same if Ossy needs me..." She didn't wait for her friend to speak before she made her way off, slowly following the aroma. Her boots leaving signs that she'd been there, but the red wore off not long after.

Kanaria nodded to her. "I hope you find whomever it was... and stay safe Thrysa." She smiled as she watched her go but turned her eyes back down to the one on the ground. "What happened to you?" Shaking her head in dismay as she spoke to herself.

With a huff she crossed her arms, watching for the others and Ossy.

"Oh, for--" Osric sighed as he pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Twelve above, does this street ever go a sun without a fresh corpse?"

The sergeant raised a hand and flicked his wrist, motioning the Brass Blades forward. He walked down the alley with them just far enough to take Kanaria gently by the shoulders and draw her aside, towards the far side of the street.

Once they cleared the scene, he turned to her and fell down onto his haunches, the better to look up into her eyes, searching them out of concern.

"Aight. They're goin' t'need everythin' y'know. When and where y'found the body, have you handled or tampered with any of the evidence, if you saw anythin' suspicious like a suspect, everythin'." 

"Sergeant?"

He muttered under his breath. "Yes, Rand, I'm comin'. Trade with me, will you? Ask her the usual."

A dozen paces found him shoulder to shoulder with the highlander, who all but growled the details to him in a low tone of voice. Baritone... no, bass. Big man, deep voice. 

"Turned him over. Bloke was stabbed to death. Repeatedly."

"So?"

"So word throughout the service is, you know knifework better than most folks in this city. Certainly better than me and my men."

"...I'll take a look."

They passed each other, Osric ducking back into the alley, Rand sidling up to Kanaria with a sudden change in gait that could almost be called a strut. 

"Miss." The Brass Blade crossed his arms and leaned against the palace stonework. "Mind sharing with ol' Rand what you saw?"

Askier was going to need a new coat. 

The Garlean watched as the door to his Red Wings workshop slammed shut as someone left with his coat.  Askier flexed his jaw.  As he stood, there, thinking slowly, he began to scowl as he thought more and more.

After a long spell of thinking, his tongue snaked out and licked his lips, tasting them.

"Well played."  Askier muttered, looking at the door.  Like a slow fuse, it had taken him awhile to figure it out, but he had a hunch and he did not like the meaning about why the coat had been taken.  He had been tricked, and like an idiot, he had succumbed to the offering.

Blood was still on that coat of his and it was no longer in his possession.  And the person whom had it, had been sending off alarms in his head all evening, he just hadn't been listening.

The Garlean took a deep breath as he walked over to his closet and opened it.  On a row of hangers stood fifteen rust red wolf fur coats identical to the one he had just let slip through his fingers. Askier took one and put it on over his bare chest as he reached into the pocket of his black trousers at his waist and pulled out a small bundle of detonators.  The Garlean took them and strode over to a metal chest  He opened the combination lid and retrieved the satchel containing the large cerleum cylinder.  The Garlean turned and slipped out the door, locking it behind him.  He might already have one issue to have to handle, best to keep evidence for his up coming actions hidden as long as possible.  Askier slipped away in the night towards a destination known only to himself, and this time, he made sure he wasn't followed.

Askier stood at the edge of the airship landing, the plummet to the streets below feet away.  The Garlean stood with his hands in his coat pockets, the high winds tugging at his hair and garments.  Askier's golden eyes watered as he watched an airship slowly slipping from view as a thermal took the vessel up into the cloud filled heavens, but it wasn't from the wind. It was from emotion.

For the second time he was forced to part ways with his fiancee, though this time it had been mutual.  He had come to her last night. Revealed to her everything he was planning and how dangerous it was going to be and how he didn't want her hurt.  She had simply sighed as if he was just a annoying child and smiled.  She had agreed to leave Ul'dah for the safety of the Shroud. She had packed nearly eight bags of her things and boarded the airship.  Just before the vessel had departed, Ashwynn had held him in her arms one last time and kissed him.

"I do love you, but you are the most complicated man I've ever met. My life would have been so simple if I had never met you." she had smiled sadly and then turned and boarded. Askier felt his gut knot as the vessel departed, Ashwynn watching him and he her as the distance between them grew.

The ship entered the clouds and Askier's golden optics could follow no longer. The Garlean felt the longing sudden seperarion brings in all mortals but he had to deal with it. This was his path and he only hoped he could still make it end at Ashwynn's feet once again.

The Garlean looked down at the city. The left side of his face twitched.

Askier sat in his workshop, his scared torso was exposed to the cool air.  His hair fell about his face, the color a lighter hue with white and grey hairs mixed in.  He had washed the dye out his hair and hadn't bothered to re-apply it. His mind was too full of matters to allow him any concerns of vanity to surface.

Askier was leaning his chin into the palm of metal hand as he hunched over a table, his right hand spinning his large knife over and over.

Askier sighed slowly and closed his eyes.

"You doing alright there old man?"

Askier opened his eyes. Sitting across from Askier was the grinning face of a younger version of himself, dressed in a pressed Garlean uniform.

Askier snorted and shook his head.

"Clearly not, since I'm now hallucinating."

The young Askier vision laughed.

"Well old man, maybe you should stop thinking so much."

"To many of my problems are from not thinking." Askier grumbled as he continued to soon the knife.  

"I don't know about that." the young Askier took a sip from a metal flask.  " You were better off before you started moralizing and trying to be a good person.  You actually were happy."

"I was never happy." Askier growled, the lines around his eyes pressing into wrinkles. "I was just trying to survive.  Why I joined the Garlean army in the first place. National pride be damned."

"And how did trying to have pride as a Flame soldier go?" the young Askier smirked.  "You are mentally disqualified, miserable, and considering blowing up half the city to serve your own, selfish desires because your little dream world collapsed and you are now bitter that your adopted philosophy you took from Osric and Kahn'a is a lie.  You were always a survivor. Nothing more."

"Least I'm aware of my faults." Askier replied as he stopped spinning the knife.

"Are you?"the young Askier mocked with a laugh.  "Did you not mock Kahn'a and then commit the same act? Did you not once torture for Adin and yet now find it vile? You are a man who doesn't know what they believe anymore and are acting stupid trying to find purpose. Least there was a time when you realized all that matters is looking out for number one.  That's the only reason you survived the Calamity. You shot your fellow soldiers when they tried to stop you from running, remember?"

"Shut up." Askier growled.

"You think your little plan will work? You talked with Roen.  That girl has good as damned herself. You know how people like Nero end up. Your father-in-law was just the same, remember?  Make the world better, and look how far he went in the end.  You think what you intend will stop anything?"

"I don't know. I don't know a lot." Askier glared at the young version of himself with hate and jealousy. Had he really been so confident once?

"Then why try? What is your end goal, Askier?" the young version of himself stared at him with golden eyes. Askier took a deep breath and smiled softly.

"There is no end goal anymore.  To me, the ends don't justify the means, the means are the ends.  That warehouse exploding and the death of that wretched woman brought me more satisfaction than I have felt in far too long.  I aim to recreate that feeling over and over. Taeros, Nero, Osric, all those little -idealists- just trying to bury the truth of reality under false concepts."

"Oh?" the young Askier said, crossing his arms."And what is the truth?'

"That entropy always wins out in the end." Askier spun the knife.  "There is no purpose to anything. Everything ends. So why focus on the ends, when the means bring you joy."

"So you would destroy to create joy for yourself." young Askier said rhetorically. "Askier, I do believe your are mentally unfit."

The older Askier's face split into a toothy grin.

"I could have told you that the moment I started talking to myself."

Askier blinked and the visage of the younger Askier was gone.  The Garlean took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he leaned back in his chair.  Nero, 'The Beast", Taeros, he wouldn't let them hurt Ul'dah. But only because Ul'dah was his toy to do with as he wanted now, and the Garlean didn't want to share.