Imbalance ((Semi-Closed RP)) - Printable Version +- Hydaelyn Role-Players (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18) +-- Forum: Role-Play (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18/forumdisplay.php?fid=27) +--- Forum: Town Square (IC) (https://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/mybb18/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: Imbalance ((Semi-Closed RP)) (/showthread.php?tid=5421)

Imbalance ((Semi-Closed RP)) - Talathar Khalynn - 11-09-2013 ((I was trying to get into the mindset of a sick lalafell, and this bit of angst got typed up. Honestly, I'm not quite sure where I'm taking this yet - this whole thing started out as a quick little throw-away thing, but is developing into some kind of RP story arc. We'll see where it goes - just please, anyone who knows Tala IC'ly, this tidbit is not public knowledge, and she hasn't told many about how sick she is.)) EDIT: Changing to Semi-Closed RP / Story type posting. If anyone is interested in getting involved with this little storyline (either in-game or on the boards here), please let me know. I will be occasionally adding bits and pieces (from either Tala or possibly other alt views) here. ^_^; _____ In the secluded room, there was a sudden flare of fire. A startled squeak of fright. The sudden splashing sounds of water. Then the distinct thump of a small body falling to the wooden floor, and a soft, defeated sigh. Alone in the room, a small figure sat on the floor against the bed. She cradled one hand against the her chest, struggling to hold back useless tears. Not at the pain of the burn itself, but at sheer frustration. And a little fear. She was so, so tired of being sick. And afraid of what the sickness might be doing to her. An aetheric imbalance, is what Jujunia had called it. Something was interfering with her aetheric flows, wreaking havoc with her abilities, and her control. A “clog of aether” of some sort. Although the tincture her mother continued to send was helping, she didn’t seem to be getting any better. She still had the fevers, especially at night. And the headaches. The occasional queasiness, although that was a little better with the teas they’d been brewing for her of late. But the aetheric imbalance persisted, they’d said. And today, just now, she’d seen for herself how much her control had lapsed. Fire. She’d only attempted to summon a little bit - a tiny lick of flame, just enough to light a small candle. Instead… instead she’d gotten a large ball of angry fire, that and threatened to expand and engulf not only the candle, but the nightstand it rested on as well. Luckily, water still seemed to answer her call, and the fire was out before it had really even started. Although the candle AND the candle holder had melted beyond recognition, and there was a lot of water she needed to mop up. And the burns on her hand stung. She wasn’t even sure she should attempt healing it, at this point. She didn’t know what she’d do if the healing didn’t come. Healing was her gift, her special thing. What would she do if she lost it - forever? Unbidden, unnoticed, the tears fell down her cheeks. In the solitary room, she succumbed at last to the fear, and sobbed, alone, clutching her throbbing hand in the dimming light. A Place Not Home - Talathar Khalynn - 11-10-2013 “Stal.” The little chocobo looked up at the soft voice, and cried out happily. “KWEH!” He rushed to her side, but then slowed as he came nearer. Gently, slowly, he pushed his head into her, nuzzling her face softly. She had come back, his little master. He was glad. But still, something was still not right. She felt too hot. Her eyes were watery. Not bright. She was not steady. She trembled. And he had understood. Sickness. She was sick. Instinct had told him to run away, but he would not. He could not protect her from sickness. But still he would not run. Instead, he stayed close. As close as the other small one would allow. He would not allow the chocobo into the building, so Stalwart could not cuddle his little master close as she slept. But he offered her what support he could. “Kwoo,” he called softly, comfortingly, gently butting his head against his little master’s chest. She chuckled softly at his antics and smoothed his crest feathers soothingly. “ ‘M alright, Stal,” she told him quietly. “Just tired.” He did not understand the words, but cooed in response to them. “No, really. ‘M fine. Just… wanted ta feel the wind. ‘S stuffy inside.” Her voice wavered just a bit. It was not good. Concerned, he pulled back just a little, gently grooming her the soft not-feathers on her head with his beak. She batted at him weakly. “Hey, stop. ‘M not needin choco drool in my hair,” she whined, closing her eyes against a wave of dizziness. Sensing it, the chocobo dropped to the ground, using his body to steady her, so that she did not fall. “Oh…” Sickness. She was sick. He knew. She needed to sleep. To rest, and be cared for, to get better. She was too hot. It was cold for her outside, she needed shelter. He looked around, but no one was there. Gently, carefully, he urged her towards the door to the house, but she refused to go. “No, ‘s stuffy.” Unable to fight, she eventually settled against the door frame, sitting on the wooden floor of the stoop. Carefully, he settled around her, trying to shield her from the wind. She clutched at him, and sobbed weakly, and water fell weakly from her eyes. She was hot, too hot, and it was not comfortable for him. But he would endure it, for her. As she fell asleep, she muttered under her breath. “...home… wanna go… home…” Home. He knew that word. Home was not here. Here was a place with the ocean smell everywhere. Fish and farms, and people with books. Home was different. Home smelled of trees, and shady plants. Home was far from here. But he thought he knew how to get there. He looked down at his little sleeping master, clutching at him. Determination stirred in his heart. Home. She wanted home. If she wanted home, then he would take her home. But first, she needed rest. He watched her sleep. And waited for her to wake up. Fears, Part 1 - Talathar Khalynn - 11-11-2013 It had been a bad idea. She had known that from the start. Who saddled a chocobo and went for a ride when they were ill? Fevered? As a healer, she knew better. She would never let someone under her care do such a thing. But the selfish, childish part of her overrode the sensible, healer part, and so she had clung to the choco tightly as the bird carefully made his way along the roads. Stalwart seemed to know what she wanted. As before, there was no excited hopping, no challenging other chocobos to impromptu races alongside the roads. Instead, he kept his pace even and slow, ignoring the tall walls and outcroppings he would normally clamber atop. His gait was so smooth, she even found herself dozing off from time to time. Or maybe that was just the sickness, making her tired. Still, she had been mildly surprised when she realized her choco had carried her all the way to Gridania. In a mild daze, she handed the reins over to the chocokeep, and asked him to take good care of her Stal, because he was probably tired after the long journey. The man had smiled good-naturedly and take the bird to the stables, after a bit of a struggle -- Stal seemed reluctant to leave her side, but she patted him affectionately and told him to go rest. Her hand had still been hurting. She would have gone to visit her mother, but did not relish the scolding she was due. Instead, she had made her way to the normally peaceful waterfall, thinking to rest there beside the water. Maybe dunk her hand in the pool, to soothe the burn. Only to bump into Zanana. And of course Zanana was upset -- the last she’d known, Tala had been resting on the farmstead in La Noscea. Just that morning, in fact. What was she doing in Gridania? Why wasn’t she resting? How did she get that burn on her hand? And as if that weren’t bad enough, in the middle of the scolding by Zanana, Solya had appeared as well. Who also noticed the burn, and knew it wasn’t an ordinary burn. She’d dozed off here and there while Zanana explained to Solya. She didn’t mean to -- but she was so tired. And in her fevered misery, she had admitted her fears of losing her healing skills. It terrified her, that she might lose the one thing she had always wanted, and had always striven for. In fitful tears, she dozed off again. Fears, Part 2 - Talathar Khalynn - 11-14-2013 All around her. Engulfing. Surrounding. Tumbling uncontrollably in empty space. But not empty, not exactly. There was a sense of something. Something ephemeral. Something in that space, rushing past her. Through her, even. Like a cold embrace of something ... other. She was carried along in the wake of that other force, present all around her, taking her where it willed. Uncontrolled... And then her breathe wouldn't come. Panic. Terror. She lashed out against it, flailing. But her limbs could find no purchase. There was nothing there to grab, to grapple, or to hold on to. Over and over she tumbled, struggling for air, gasping, but there was no air at all. Only... Her head smashed into something solid. A flash of pain, then darkness. _____ She woke up terrified; her head aching, her mind disoriented. For a moment of panic, she did not remember where she was, knowing only the throbbing pain and unfamiliar surroundings. Voices, muffled. Familiar voices. She blinked for a moment, then realized it was her link pearl, laying forgotten on the nightstand. She smiled tiredly and took the small sphere into her hand, just listening to her friends speaking to each other. She remembered now. Closing her eyes for a moment against the pain, she wondered what time it was. It was dark out, she noted absently, so it must be some time in the night. She lay there, musing, as the vague fragments of her familiar nightmare chased themselves into oblivion. Suddenly the room felt too hot to her. The space seemed too confining. The four walls, stifling. She needed out. She needed out, now. In the morning she was found fast asleep, bundled in a blanket and leaning on the post of the front stoop; link pearl still clutched tightly in her hand. Nightmares - Talathar Khalynn - 11-28-2013 She couldn’t sleep. Hadn’t slept. No more than an odd hour or two each night, for the past week. Or more, maybe. She wasn’t even sure anymore. They came for her. Every time she closed her eyes. Every time she drifted off. Every time she tried to rest. The nightmares. She couldn’t always remember them. And even when she could, it was only bits and pieces. Jumbled, disjointed images, scrambled together in her mind in a chaotic amalgamation of sights, sounds, and overriding emotion. Fragments. Fragments. So many fragments. Of hands, at her throat. Stealing away her air. Holding her down. Of fire, searing her back in stripes. Of tears, hopelessly shed. A throat burned raw by useless sobs. Loneliness. Hopelessness. Despair. And fear. Always fear. Every night she woke up gasping, her heart pounding, and fear clawing at her soul. And in the darkness, with the walls seemingly closing in, she would sneak outside -- sometimes to the stables -- to find some small solace in the gentle breeze. It was taking its toll. _____ “You shouldn’t be out here,” the Miqo’te said seriously, arms crossed, almost glaring at the diminutive figure seated before her, leaning against a tree. “You’re supposed to be at the farm, resting.” “Too noisey,” the small lalafell replied shortly, frowning blearily at the horizon. “Too stuffy. Wanted ta be out.” “You don’t need to ‘be out,’ Tala,” retorted the Miqo’te, tail flitting about in obvious annoyance. “You need to be resting. Inside. Not out here in the wind. Especially when it looks like rain. Really, what are you thinking?” “Lemme ‘lone, M’yr.” The tail lashed out angrily. “No, Tala, I will not ‘leave you alone.’ You are sick, you are not getting better…” “I AM gettin better,” Tala protested. “ ‘M not fevered anymore…” “Yes, but now apparently you are not sleeping.” M’yr took a deep breath and calmed her voice. “Tala, is it the nightmares?” A wordless nod was the only reply. M’yr sighed, pushing her hair back with both hands. She still remembered how, when they had both been younger, Tala had been tormented by nightmares. Every night she’d wake up sweating, gasping for air, or screaming in fear. For years, her sister had suffered nightly. Until the day of the accident, six years ago. Until the day Tatala had become Talathar. After the accident, everything changed. Her sister had changed -- her name, her personality, and most especially her memories. Three years worth of memories, altered. Some memories jumbled up, other memories stolen away completely, all by the rush of water that had almost drowned them both. Almost as if the past itself had been washed away. But something of that past remained. The nightmares. For a time, they persisted. At least, for a little while. But as time passed, so did the nightmares. But sometimes, she knew Tala was still troubled by them. “Tala, you should talk to Brother E-Sumi-Yan about the nightmares.” “... ‘m fine…” “Talathar Khalynn Tahl, you are being ridiculous! Now, I’m going to talk to that doctor friend of yours, and then I am taking you to the Conjurer’s guild. And then we will be talking to Brother E-Sumi-Yan, and you will tell him everything about the fevers and the nightmares. And you will cooperate, or I will get Kori on the linkshell, and we will physically drag you there. AFTER Kori lectures you.” Tala winced. And then after that, I will be writing another letter, she thought to herself grimly. Because you are obviously being stubborn again. Falter - Talathar Khalynn - 12-03-2013 When Tala woke in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by warmth not her own, she surprisingly did not panic, and did not struggle. Instead, she only sighed in resignation. Her memories of the day before were a bit disjointed and vague in places, but she distinctly remembered a few key points. Tala remembered spending most of the day wandering the fields in Summerford, helping the pirate-turned-farmers with their crops, learning more about tending to the green, growing things of the earth. She remembered returning to Limsa Lominsa, seeking a bit of food and maybe a little quiet reflection. She remembered bumping into Loxus, and speaking with the young Miqo’te, sharing a light meal and friendly conversation. Conversation that turned more serious after a time. She remembered admitting the exhaustion, and the sleepless nights. But when Loxus started suggesting ways to combat the inability to sleep, something happened. Something new. What, exactly, she couldn’t completely remember. There were blank spaces in her memory. Loxus had told her she had, at least twice, become panicked, muttering gibberish, oblivious to her surroundings, until jolted back to herself. She remembered sitting with Loxus inside the Drowning Wench, then… they were outside, sitting with Sierra. She didn’t remember shouting, or ranting. She only had only dim, vague feelings of fading out, almost as if she had fallen asleep for those moments. She did remember, however, basically falling asleep on Loxus. And being carried to the inn -- to this room, in fact. And mumbling some joking reference to a harem, and how she wasn’t interested. Then nothing. Just blissful, peaceful silence. Until now. She also remembered promising to talk to Solya about everything. Something she’d neglected to do. Again. She winced slightly, anticipating a scolding, which she probably deserved. Twelve knew she’d been scolded by M’yr enough times about it -- at least, until very recently. After the talk with Master E-Sumi-Yan, M’yr had seemed distracted. Maybe even avoiding her. Tala knew that there was something her sister and the guildmaster were not sharing. She also knew that M’yr had been discussing things with Kori, their eldest sister, and that they were not in agreement about something. Something that she strongly suspected had to do with her current troubles. But they weren’t talking to her about it. For all that she was used to being treated as the “baby” of the family, it still irked her sometimes. But then, deep down, she also knew that when she was ill, she wasn’t the most rational person. Even so, it irked her. Suddenly, the arms around her seem constricting. Confining. She fought down a surge of irrational panic, concentrating on her breathing. Slowly, carefully, she untangled herself, and moved off the bed, making for the safety of the door. She needed air. Needed to feel the wind in her hair, the sun on her face, to know that she was … she was … “...’M not okay,” Tala muttered quietly to herself, as the door closed behind her. If anyone saw her stumble out, or heard her, she didn’t know. Discord - Talathar Khalynn - 12-10-2013 The sun shone brightly over the seaside city of Limsa Lominsa. The seas were calm, and the breeze, gentle. Despite the everyday hustle and bustle that is the norm for any busy port town, even the most harried citizen could find a brief moment to enjoy the clear, sunny day. In a quiet corner outside the Bismark, two sisters sat together, apparently sharing a light meal and somber conversation. Physically, they did not resemble each other at all; the elder was a tall Roegadyn woman of ruddy complexion, while the younger was a blue-haired Keeper still clearly in her teens. Yet both had fierce, golden eyes -- currently, filled with ire. “Kori…” “No, ‘Ris,” the Roegadyn rebuffed flatly, sitting back and crossing her arms. M’yrissa huffed. “We need to know, Kori!” “No, ‘Ris. You do not. The past was taken from her. Let it remain so. It is better that way.” “Better for who?” M’yr hissed back, trying to keep her voice down. “It’s Tala’s life, Kori. You know she’s never wanted anything else but being a conjurer. A healer. It would destroy her to lose that!” Kori glowered. “And if you do this? You were not so young. Do not forget the girl that was before. The one who did remember.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It would hurt her, regardless.” “You don’t know that for sure! Brother E-Sumi-Yan said...” “Six years ago, he said to leave be, ‘Ris! That the Elements took her sorrow. That it was best to let it be, and let her know happiness. And we did! And she did!” “She’s remembering now, Kori! But only in bits and pieces, in her dreams. She’s told me about the parts that she can recall. She can’t sleep because of them! Those memories are already hurting her -- keeping the truth to yourself isn’t helping her at all!” “It would be better should she never remember!” growled Kori darkly. “Help her to forget, that I would aid. But help her to remember? No. That pain is too great.” “You can’t know that!” M’yrissa protested. “No, YOU do not know, M’yrissa Tahl! You have not lived through such troubles -- and for that the Twelve be praised! You cannot know what such memories do. I speak a truth you cannot know.” Korynna’s chair toppled to the ground as she hastily stood to lean forward over the table, glaring fiercely into her youngest sister’s eyes. The Roegadyn’s golden eyes flashed, equal parts of impassioned anger and remembered pain. “I would give my left arm for such forgetfulness.” The young Miqo’te blinked, stunned for a moment. She watched helplessly as Kori dropped a handful of gil on the table and stalked away.