Thread Closed
Tengri Geneq sat tailor-fashion atop one of the hills overlooking the upper paths. There was no hiding the revulsion in his expression as he watched Summerfield ride south. He flexed his hands, cracking his knuckles in the process, and listened to the rustle of his gauntlets as he did so.
That damned bird again. Would that I could set a rothlyt upon it without drawing her ire.
There came from behind him the deliberate footfalls of a man half his weight, and a presence brushed against his mind, announcing itself. He sighed and turned an expectant look upon the Wildwood who now stood over his shoulder. The Elezen frowned down at the woman, though his own expression was a pensive one rather than one of distaste.
“Captain, if I might inquire…?â€
“You may.â€
“How are we to proceed?â€
He could almost see the wheels turning. Glaisyer was no blunt instrument, as Gnasher was; no fanatic, as Forgehands was; no hedonist, as Zhwan was. Say rather that Pierre of the White Needle was the most self-possessed and pragmatic soul to have ever been pressed or enlisted into Tengri’s service. The man’s concerns were so transparent, however, that his captain had no need of the mental link they shared to follow his current train of thought.
She is a distraction. She is a liability. The risks outweigh the rewards. She will make us soft. We can afford neither doubt nor hesitation. She inculcates both. We should cut her loose.
Tengri snorted as his eyes swept back to Summerfield. “Watch over her.â€
Pierre arched an eyebrow at that. “We are spread thin enough as it is. Zhwan continues to shadow the boy, and you’ve sent Gnasher off to I-know-not-where….â€
“Ortolf shall reclaim his place at my side. He will suffice. I am less concerned at present with the risk to my person than with the potential loss of a valuable asset.â€
“...and the Padjal? With all due respect, captain, was he not a valuable asset? You’d given us the impression that you were rather reluctant to be parted from him.â€
A long stretch of silence followed those words.
“You saw how he was, once you and the others were made known to him. How distant he was with me. How precious little passed between us.†Tengri frowned. “That he considered himself beholden to Summerfield and I was, like as not, all that spared me his reproach. That and his own guilt.â€
“Was that guilt not the reason for your interest in the child?â€
That baleful white eye glared up at Pierre from beneath Tengri’s bangs. “Mind your tongue.â€
“...apologies, captain.â€
The former Garlean scowled. “In O-Rehn-Fahn, I sensed a kindred spirit. In O-Rehn Fahn, I glimpsed past, present, and future. How could I not? A soul constrained against his will, driven out of desperation to abhorrent measures, and set upon a course that would ease the suffering of countless untold generations....â€
The former Ishgardian crossed his arms and leaned against an ancient bole. Tengri looked up through the canopy at the clear-blue skies and sighed again.
“He balked at the aberrations for which I am responsible, Pierre. He balked at the instruments I have chosen with which to cultivate growth.â€
“So? What of it?â€
“O-Rehn sought redemption and atonement, whereas I seek absolution.â€
“...ah. A subtle distinction, that.â€
“Quite.â€
“Which brings us back to the conjurer.â€
Tengri nodded. “Putting aside the matter of her talents, Summerfield is the first Eorzean I have known to accept me for who and what I am. No condemnation, no castigation, no vilification. She accepted me as she accepted Hearns, as she accepted Fahn. She expects reformation but does not demand it, encourages rehabilitation but will never force it. So very unlike her elders and erstwhile allies.â€
“She is unique, then, in this regard?â€
The Xaela shrugged. “Perhaps. There are others who may, in time, come ‘round to her way of thinking, if they have not already. The little thaumaturge, for one. The huntress, for another.â€
The Wildwood straightened, sparing one last glance for the woman below. “Then I shall do as I was bid.â€
Tengri Geneq pushed himself to his feet, chuckling all the while.
“Good. Every garden needs caretakers, and every gardener needs tools.â€
That damned bird again. Would that I could set a rothlyt upon it without drawing her ire.
There came from behind him the deliberate footfalls of a man half his weight, and a presence brushed against his mind, announcing itself. He sighed and turned an expectant look upon the Wildwood who now stood over his shoulder. The Elezen frowned down at the woman, though his own expression was a pensive one rather than one of distaste.
“Captain, if I might inquire…?â€
“You may.â€
“How are we to proceed?â€
He could almost see the wheels turning. Glaisyer was no blunt instrument, as Gnasher was; no fanatic, as Forgehands was; no hedonist, as Zhwan was. Say rather that Pierre of the White Needle was the most self-possessed and pragmatic soul to have ever been pressed or enlisted into Tengri’s service. The man’s concerns were so transparent, however, that his captain had no need of the mental link they shared to follow his current train of thought.
She is a distraction. She is a liability. The risks outweigh the rewards. She will make us soft. We can afford neither doubt nor hesitation. She inculcates both. We should cut her loose.
Tengri snorted as his eyes swept back to Summerfield. “Watch over her.â€
Pierre arched an eyebrow at that. “We are spread thin enough as it is. Zhwan continues to shadow the boy, and you’ve sent Gnasher off to I-know-not-where….â€
“Ortolf shall reclaim his place at my side. He will suffice. I am less concerned at present with the risk to my person than with the potential loss of a valuable asset.â€
“...and the Padjal? With all due respect, captain, was he not a valuable asset? You’d given us the impression that you were rather reluctant to be parted from him.â€
A long stretch of silence followed those words.
“You saw how he was, once you and the others were made known to him. How distant he was with me. How precious little passed between us.†Tengri frowned. “That he considered himself beholden to Summerfield and I was, like as not, all that spared me his reproach. That and his own guilt.â€
“Was that guilt not the reason for your interest in the child?â€
That baleful white eye glared up at Pierre from beneath Tengri’s bangs. “Mind your tongue.â€
“...apologies, captain.â€
The former Garlean scowled. “In O-Rehn-Fahn, I sensed a kindred spirit. In O-Rehn Fahn, I glimpsed past, present, and future. How could I not? A soul constrained against his will, driven out of desperation to abhorrent measures, and set upon a course that would ease the suffering of countless untold generations....â€
The former Ishgardian crossed his arms and leaned against an ancient bole. Tengri looked up through the canopy at the clear-blue skies and sighed again.
“He balked at the aberrations for which I am responsible, Pierre. He balked at the instruments I have chosen with which to cultivate growth.â€
“So? What of it?â€
“O-Rehn sought redemption and atonement, whereas I seek absolution.â€
“...ah. A subtle distinction, that.â€
“Quite.â€
“Which brings us back to the conjurer.â€
Tengri nodded. “Putting aside the matter of her talents, Summerfield is the first Eorzean I have known to accept me for who and what I am. No condemnation, no castigation, no vilification. She accepted me as she accepted Hearns, as she accepted Fahn. She expects reformation but does not demand it, encourages rehabilitation but will never force it. So very unlike her elders and erstwhile allies.â€
“She is unique, then, in this regard?â€
The Xaela shrugged. “Perhaps. There are others who may, in time, come ‘round to her way of thinking, if they have not already. The little thaumaturge, for one. The huntress, for another.â€
The Wildwood straightened, sparing one last glance for the woman below. “Then I shall do as I was bid.â€
Tengri Geneq pushed himself to his feet, chuckling all the while.
“Good. Every garden needs caretakers, and every gardener needs tools.â€
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)