It was the dry shhh shhh shhh of leather rubbing against cloth that he first heard. His head ached, and somewhere behind his eyelids there was a light that someone had forgotten to turn out. He stirred, muscles protesting against unreasonable demands that they move, his eyes especially felt crusted shut, sticky. They finally cracked open with an effort, revealing an unfamiliar room that was dark, spare and musty, smelling of damp earth. Too bright light spilled in through the open front door, along with the distant sound of waves and a salt tang that made his nose sting. He lay in a bed, the mattress thin and firm but clean-smelling underneath him. A woman paced the floor. Tall and spare, almost as big as a Hyur, her high leather boots brushed against the coarse cloth of her dress with every step. Solid clothes in plain colors, the garb of a traveller. Her brassy hair brushed against her shoulders and caught the light as she moved.
His lips moved soundlessly, his vocal cords complaining. He frowned, his brows furrowing as he tried again to speak, his voice a soft croak. Words came out, but he could not hear them over the pounding of his own head. She turned, surprise on her face, and rushed to the bedside.
“Kayah?†she said, her voice soft yet somehow raw. Her green eyes were wide in the dim light, while the sound of her footsteps rolled through his head.
He ran through a broad stone corridor, the diminutive form of a Lalafell racing ahead of him. Kage, he thought. He’d been chasing him, the snap of his dress shoes against the floor mixing with the quicker drum sound of the Lalafell’s feet.
He stood in a chamber, lit by the steady glow of lanterns. His chest was cold, his shoulders stung where he’d ripped his jacket off and thrown it at the feet of the tall, spare woman standing angrily before him.
He strode towards the blue glow of an aetheryte, his jaw clenched, his hand aching from where he’d slammed it into a stone column. He paused as he reached it. The aetheryte would take him anywhere within Ul’dah, but where was it he could go? The woman he had loved and lived for was somewhere behind him, and all he could think of was to put as much distance between them as he could. Limsa, he thought to himself. I’ll go to Limsa. Natalie’s Sultansworn duties would keep her in or around Ul’dah. He could build a new life in Limsa, the towers and winding paths of the City of Pirates providing ample opportunity for him to begin anew.
There was a flash of light as his head bounced off the aetheryte, and another as it struck the ground. It felt like someone was staving in his ribs with a club. Which, he thought to himself, wasn’t too far off from the truth. At some level he recognized that something was very wrong, that his body was moving without any thought of his own. Through the red fog he could see a growing blur that crashed against the side of his head and he knew no more.
“Natalie…†His voice was a low croak, a sharp lance of pain rewarding his efforts to speak. “I remember…†Dark spots danced before him, the sound of the ocean drowning everything out as his eyes closed again.
She was crying. The wet splash of her tears on his face drew him back from sleep and he opened his eyes. As he reached for her, she lay on the bed next to him, his hands smoothing the brassy locks of her hair. “Shhhhhâ€, he murmured, his voice soft. She turned her head, her green eyes catching the light from the door, her face streaked and wet. “Shhhhhâ€, he repeated, his fingers brushing the hair from her face even as darkness claimed him again.
The room was dark, spare and musty, smelling of damp earth. Dim red sunset light spilled in through the open front door, as well as the distant sound of waves, while the only sound within was the gentle whisper of their breathing as they slept, nestled together in the small house by the sea.
His lips moved soundlessly, his vocal cords complaining. He frowned, his brows furrowing as he tried again to speak, his voice a soft croak. Words came out, but he could not hear them over the pounding of his own head. She turned, surprise on her face, and rushed to the bedside.
“Kayah?†she said, her voice soft yet somehow raw. Her green eyes were wide in the dim light, while the sound of her footsteps rolled through his head.
He ran through a broad stone corridor, the diminutive form of a Lalafell racing ahead of him. Kage, he thought. He’d been chasing him, the snap of his dress shoes against the floor mixing with the quicker drum sound of the Lalafell’s feet.
He stood in a chamber, lit by the steady glow of lanterns. His chest was cold, his shoulders stung where he’d ripped his jacket off and thrown it at the feet of the tall, spare woman standing angrily before him.
He strode towards the blue glow of an aetheryte, his jaw clenched, his hand aching from where he’d slammed it into a stone column. He paused as he reached it. The aetheryte would take him anywhere within Ul’dah, but where was it he could go? The woman he had loved and lived for was somewhere behind him, and all he could think of was to put as much distance between them as he could. Limsa, he thought to himself. I’ll go to Limsa. Natalie’s Sultansworn duties would keep her in or around Ul’dah. He could build a new life in Limsa, the towers and winding paths of the City of Pirates providing ample opportunity for him to begin anew.
There was a flash of light as his head bounced off the aetheryte, and another as it struck the ground. It felt like someone was staving in his ribs with a club. Which, he thought to himself, wasn’t too far off from the truth. At some level he recognized that something was very wrong, that his body was moving without any thought of his own. Through the red fog he could see a growing blur that crashed against the side of his head and he knew no more.
“Natalie…†His voice was a low croak, a sharp lance of pain rewarding his efforts to speak. “I remember…†Dark spots danced before him, the sound of the ocean drowning everything out as his eyes closed again.
She was crying. The wet splash of her tears on his face drew him back from sleep and he opened his eyes. As he reached for her, she lay on the bed next to him, his hands smoothing the brassy locks of her hair. “Shhhhhâ€, he murmured, his voice soft. She turned her head, her green eyes catching the light from the door, her face streaked and wet. “Shhhhhâ€, he repeated, his fingers brushing the hair from her face even as darkness claimed him again.
The room was dark, spare and musty, smelling of damp earth. Dim red sunset light spilled in through the open front door, as well as the distant sound of waves, while the only sound within was the gentle whisper of their breathing as they slept, nestled together in the small house by the sea.
