Clover

[align=justify]"Stupid huntress…" the Tia muttered under his breath, frowning. Something was definitely wrong with her, and if K'rahto didn’t know her better, he might have wondered if the girl was simply trying hard to get his attention and delay the trip back. It was as if fate itself were preventing him from reaching the tribe and taking his next step. In any case, he didn’t know if those chocobos would be prepared to hold the weight of two people, and K’nahli needed to get rid of her damp clothes as soon as possible anyway. "Stupid huntress…" he cursed again, with little more energy this time, as he stood up with K’nahli on his arms. There wasn’t much of a choice here. K’rahto searched for a good spot under a rock that acted as half a cave, and hurried up to make a small fire. His cheeks had coloured themselves a faint shade of red even as he did that, for the Tia was aware of what was coming next. K’nahli needed to change clothes, and it was clear that she wouldn’t do that on her own, being unconscious. Thus, swallowing hard and painted with a permanent frown in his eyes, K’rahto approached her and started undoing the straps in her boots. Her gloves followed, carefully removed to bare a skin he tried not to pay much attention to. Then, doing his best to turn his head to the side with both annoyance and embarrassment, his hands reached for the lace of her top…[/align]

[align=justify]His chocobo took the lead. K’rahto never turned his head back to look at his traveling partner; he could hear the other chocobo’s steps behind him, and that was everything he needed to know. Engaged in the same silence he’d been displaying from the day before, the Tia didn’t seek to give K’nahli any sort of conversation on this occasion either. His thoughts just wandered away, eager to reach the tribe and be done with that damn trip, even if that meant that his life would change forever. Perhaps it had already. A noticeable thud interrupted his thoughts from behind. Something felt wrong. Frowning with confusion, he turned his head this time, only for his eyes to open wide as the scene they witnessed. K’nahli, always proud and strong K’nahli, was lying down on her chocobo’s feet as if an arrow had pierced her. Definitely not the turn he’d have expected, no matter how weak she displayed herself the last night. His reaction was immediate: he dismounted quickly and ran to the fallen huntress, holding her with a hand on her back to help her sit up. “Oi, Yohko! What’s wrong?” he hurried up to say, his tone still concerned despite the permanent frown in his features. Not waiting for an answer, he placed a hand on her forehead. “Did you sleep under the rain or what…?” he couldn’t help but scold her, equally annoyed and worried. Something had definitely been wrong with K'nahli for the past while...[/align]

[align=justify]Now free of the hands of her captor, the lady Raen could breathe again. She inhaled and exhaled softly, almost soundlessly, and managed to stand when her knees seemed to want to break. The Xaela, perhaps bitten by the smallest pangs of guilt, finally revealed his name. It was the first submissive gesture he’d displayed, the only one; the first, yes, and maybe the very last as well. At that moment, Yura’s eyes became colder, darker. This was her house, and he was still the unpleasant guest who had dared to spit on her family’s hospitality, the Xaela who had dared to lay a hand on her. Never again would she endure the danger he posed. “Nhogai the warrior, you shall see me as the only hand guiding your fate from now on,” she stated coldly, her tone categorical and sharp, albeit her composure was perfectly in control. “Or you shall be forever vanished from this house.” Her eyes were defiant on his, no matter how much physically weaker she was. If he dared to compromise her integrity again, her servants would do the rest. Dogs like him weren't cut for kindness.[/align]

[align=justify]There it was again, that sheer force that placed her on the brink of an even more premature death. Nothing could ever soothe the rage in the Xaela’s heart; no words, no actions. Again and again he would disrespect those who had tended their hands, first with his words, then with his own fists. The inverted Bole was now on the floor, witnessing the results of its warning earlier than what Yura had anticipated. Curiosity kills, they say; perhaps she’s been far too curious. Her eyes had opened wide, truly taken aback and paralyzed by the situation, for this was the very first time in her life that someone, anyone, had used their strength against her. Her father’s death felt heavier than before upon the realization of how unprotected she was, and all she could do was part lips to settle the Xaela’s question with a breathy answer. One that, perhaps, could have been the truth under the right circumstances. “…Not your enemy…” she managed to say, unable to move, to even struggle to free herself from her captor. She simply did nothing; weak, weak Raen in the hands of fate.[/align]

[align=justify]His eyes had closed half way when slender fingers graced his skin. It’d lasted a mere split of a second, yet it sufficed to tear a secret shiver up his back. However, he wondered if any other fingers could have created the same effect. What was it? A wish for being touched, or a wish for being touched by her? Not even he could tell at that moment, as if his brain had gone numb from thinking too much. The lack of sleep, perhaps. K’rahto stood up, grabbed his broken lance to tie it up around his back as he’d done before, and finally turned to look at her with a serious, albeit tired expression. K’nahli was taking something out of the bag his chocobo was carrying, the remaining of last night’s dinner. The gesture looked like an apology to him, and taking a quick look at her revealed that she wasn’t her healthiest self today. The change might not be perceived by any normal person, but nothing related to K’nahli could escape K’rahto’s attention. Had she been visited by her own demons during the night? “…Thanks,” was all he said as he walked closer to take the offering, making sure not to touch her fingers this time. He simply placed it back inside the satchel before getting on his chocobo, ready to depart. “Let’s go.” Nothing would be the same any longer once they reached home.[/align]

The first step to become someone more similar to what he wanted to be had been taken. He didn’t succumb to K’nahli’s call the last night; among other things, he’d refused to witness her weakness at that moment. Then why? Why was he feigning to be asleep now, eyes actually open with his back turned to the approaching girl? He was waiting, he knew he wanted to wait. Wait until her fingers made contact with his arm, perhaps in what might be the very last touch between them. It wasn’t until he felt her on his skin, light as the touch actually was, that he could actually speak. “Ready to go back?” He said, not moving just yet. He wouldn’t until she retreated.

[align=justify]What was wrong with her? What in the damn Twelve was wrong with the proud huntress he used to know? Her hand made him come to a halt like the heaviest chainball. He became completely motionless, with his back still turned to her and something akin to surprise creeping up to his luckily hidden eyes. Then there was that weak plea, soft like rain and deafening like thunder, and K’rahto’s brow furrowed darkly. What was… wrong… There was no answer just yet, no movement from the shocked Tia. He almost turned to look at her; almost. Perhaps he could abuse that weakness now, be the stronger one as she seemed to break for any reason, or just be her puppet once more as she did whatever she pleased with his pride. And none of his poisonous thoughts was something he needed. Nothing he needed; she was nothing he needed. And right now, neither was he something she’d need to be the strong miqo’te she’d always displayed herself as. Almost turned, but instead he removed his hand with a rapid, abrupt movement, as if she burnt—and she did. The next steps sought to take him away, far away from K’nahli Yohko.[/align]

[align=justify]When K’rahto realized, the sound of K’nahli’s venomous voice had started making his blood boil more than what was safe. He’d let her talk too much, say too much. It was clear that the huntress wanted to punch him hard in the face, her words an attempt to make him wake up from whatever hole she believed he was trapped in, as if it were that simple. The reaction was unavoidable; K’rahto tightened his fist, bared his teeth slightly, and narrowed his sharp eyes with the danger of a predator. He’d been right; K’nahli wasn’t something he needed. She was, in fact, quite the opposite; so much he felt he really could murder her right then, right there. Troubled by his own thoughts, the Tia stood up abruptly and tossed away the stick with the small leftovers of his meat. He then forced himself to turn away from the female that had caused him so much trouble, silently cursing day he dared to lay his gaze on those damn eyes for the first time. His voice was low, contained when he spoke. “I will never want to be your Nunh again.” This said, he stepped into the rain, willing to leave on his own. No; he would leave on his own, no matter what.[/align]

[align=justify]K’rahto’s mouth had opened once more to take a new bite, and it froze that way when K’nahli made everything stop with a demand. Stop. Slowly, painted with brushes of disbelief, the Tia’s eyes turned to look at the huntress; she’d always been good with her arrows, hadn’t she? Even now. He wouldn’t be above displaying the smallest signs of weakness for her, even now. But that wasn’t all, it wasn’t that simple anymore. How unfortunate, how ironic that now, when K’nahli was becoming something K’rahto didn’t need, she seemed to want him back. “My lance’s broken,” he answered, his expression recovering its cutting coldness from a moment before. “And I have no more words for you.”[/align]

[align=justify]She did not mean home? What did she even think he meant? Home, Ul’dah… everything was the same to him right now. K’rahto took a new bite from his meat, perhaps more aggressively than he’d have liked, and forced himself to keep his gaze away. There was some sort of emptiness lying behind the coldness in his eyes, and as much was obvious from his next answer. “Doesn’t matter”. He just wanted her to be quiet. [/align]

;A;!!! ... T-thank you very much, everyone. And thank you K'nahli for wanting to promote my art. I'm ashamed I'm not doing that myself orz I'll do my best to improve.

Silence. Even if he kept his gaze away, he could still feel her wine eyes upon him, shamelessly observing his every movement. Oh, he wouldn’t turn to face her now. He’d rather be stabbed in the heart than finding damn pity in K’nahli’s features. "K'rahto..." There it was, that careful tone again, far from the annoying and arrogant attitude she tended to display with him. He tensed his fist, deepened his frown, but still wouldn’t look at her. He just didn’t want to find out the things he’d be willing to do if he saw her now... "Don't you think we should go back?" (Stop looking at me. Don’t ever say my name.) "......" He inhaled, deeply and silently. The answer was easy, because it didn’t matter at all. "Yes."

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[align=justify]It was like blinking in an endless second. The warrior brandished his enormous weapon with unrivalled speed, a true demon capable of reaping someone else's life in the matter of a single, unfinished thought. Unable to close her eyes, Yura witnessed the fierceness in that murderous gaze, in the expression of one who lived for and through war. The expression of one who lived. And oh, contradictory irony, for in the eternity of that moment, all she saw in front of her was death. Pure, unrelenting death. And then it was over, and then it was not. She still lived, so did he. The warrior was panting, alight, troubled in eyes and arms by the invisible hands that had stopped his final blow; perhaps also consumed by the desire to taste his prey's untouched blood. The Raen was standing still, eyes frozen on him, heart secure inside her chest. Only the Xaelan's heavy breathing could be heard for what felt like a long moment, until Yura's lips finally parted. “This was not a test to measure my faith in Fate…” she spoke calmly, always soft like the gentle cicadas after the storm. “What you were measuring was my faith in you.”[/align]

For a moment, just for mere seconds, Yura's lips seemed to part ever so slightly again. Initially, the warrior's game sounded like an unreasonable one in many senses, even for himself, but Yura's trail of hidden thoughts didn't seem to linger much before reaching a final conclusion, subtly embodied in the way her soft gaze steeled itself again. Her eyes stared at the monster in front of her, revealing nothing. She didn't move. “Do what you must, nameless warrior.” One of her hands at either side was still holding the reversed Bole, a warning she'd been given the choice to follow or ignore...

[align=justify]She'd barely been able to take a single step when the sound of the male's voice stopped her. His tone was akin to mockery, his words filled with even more disdain, but his actions… his actions seemed to speak of different intentions this time. To Yura, he was asking for something to believe in. Asking for a reason to stay. To her, he wanted to understand the world upside down, for that was the only kind of world that awaited him from now on. Homeless, nameless, lifeless Xaelan warrior. Slowly, the Raen turned her head to look at him sideways with a serious gaze, perhaps more sharp, less softened than before. Her tone, however, remained calm. “Fate...” she said. “Make no mistake, nameless warrior. Fate is indeed fickle, fragile and easily manipulated. I would not persuade you into believeing in such an ever changing force.” She looked at her card, eyelids half closed as she got lost into the image reflected on it. “I said that my father should not oppose to your presence on the third day. On the third day, he lost his life. Perhaps it was Fate being fulfilled, or perhaps it was my own hand making sure that the outcome would be as I predicted. Whichever it was, I spoke of a future that would happen, and it did.” Raising her gaze, Yura turned to completely face him, with eyes that for a moment seemed to gleam with severe conviction. She would say it once and once only, and as much was clear in her tone. This was how Fate was fulfilled or broken; exactly like this. “It is not Fate what you should believe in, nameless warrior, but me.”[/align]

[align=justify]For a moment, ever so lightly and almost unnoticeably, Yura's lips seemed to part. Something had crossed her mind like an arrow; something akin doubt had crawled its way to such a sacred temple. What was it she saw the other night? Why did she? With the Xaelan's latest gesture of disdain, the card had fallen right by her feet. Her eyes would then travel down towards it, only to meet with a reversed Bole. “…...” It was hard to believe she'd been mistaken. As hard as it was now to believe that she'd been right. “Beliefs...” the Raen echoed, narrowing her eyes slightly towards the card. She crouched down right after to pick it up carefully. “Only the insane would make any sacrifice in their name.” When she stood up, her gaze was just as soft and hollow as it usually looked. She'd heard enough, said enough. Sacrifices had to be made, indeed, but her pride would not be among them. There actually was no need, for a marked lamb would never be free again. “My servants shall return with your weapons,” she added then, turning her back to calmly take her leave. “May your fate smile upon you in the remaining of your life, nameless warrior.”[/align]

[align=justify]That aggressiveness and stubbornness, that narrow mind; all of them expected qualities from a tribal Xaelan warrior. Fate sure was capricious, but Yura wasn't one to question it. Even if she might not fully know what she's seen, she was still well aware that the Xaelan held a part of her future deep inside, strange as that thought could sound at such a moment. Indeed, it would be inappropriate to say that Yura enjoyed, borderline tolerated his presence, but this wouldn't show in her always calm countenance as she stood in front of him, watching how he withdrew the card she'd left for him. “The Bole,” she replied. “In that position, it represents protection, life and nurturing.” Ah, fate was capricious, yes-- almost as much as sentient creatures were. “I told you that you would save my life someday. Just like I did tell you that, on the third day, Father would not oppose to your presence. Thus I ask, what is it that you believe now, nameless warrior?”[/align]

[align=justify]His guest, his prey was standing up in defiance now, believing still that he was the owner of his own life. Yura did not move, nor did her expression change visibly; the narrowing of her eyes was, in fact, so light and brief that it might have passed as not being there, like the rest of her emotions. A stoic antique doll; that's what she was. Just two steps could be taken by the warrior before the female Raen ventured to speak again. There was an edge in her tone now, in her eyes as they stared at him without fear. A slight brush of… What was it? Urgency, defiance? Nothing that made her abandon her calm demeanour, however. “Do you believe in fate, nameless warrior?” Ah, a question he'd heard before, though the circumstances surrounding it had changed. The patriarch's death called for that question to be asked again, if anything as a reminder. And so she waited for an answer, not moving from her spot at the room's entrance.[/align]

[align=justify]The day the Hagane patriarch died was black, and albeit it is said that time heals most wounds, that day was just the first of many more to come. Nothing was heard in the corridors; the house of rectitude and discipline was filled with mourning from dawn to dusk, more colourless than it usually was. Yura walked like a silent ghost, unheard and unseen. Her expression serious, her eyes lost in front of her. Her goal was clear; just another step in the wheel that had started moving too long ago, even before that Xaelan warrior found himself under their roof. He'd been respectful with her father that morning, more than he was when the patriarch was alive. The warrior didn't leave his room, didn't raise his voice, didn't increase anyone's weight with his unwelcome presence. But he hadn't been forgotten, of course not. Never forgotten. The door to the room he'd been occupying slid quietly. Yura emerged as the one who'd opened it and took a single step into the room, looking at him with a serious albeit calm gaze. Her voice was, once more, soft and discreet, barely raising more than just what it needed to be heard above the cicadas. “As you might know already, the patriarch of the Hagane family is dead,” she notified with rather impersonal words. “Have you, then, decided on your future, Xaelan warrior?”[/align]

K'nahli already signed me in. Thank you, K'nahli~ I just want to leave this message here to say that I'm excited to try the new raid with other RPers, and I'll definitely try to adapt to the time you choose, so long as it's not too unfriendly for EU timezones. I'm planning to spend the whole day in Eorzea, so finding me online shouldn't be a problem at all, haha. Thank you for the initiative!

((I apologize for my very limited English. Previous part (from ages ago) http://ffxiv-roleplayers.com/showthread.php?tid=12649 )) [align=center][/align] The sky was painted red that morning. From the room he'd been resting in, the lone Xaela could hear a ruckus almost since sunrise. The Raen lamentations carried a clear message to his ears: the patriarch of the Hagane clan, who had departed the previous evening to help in the frontier's ranks, returned home as a lifeless body. As a warrior he lived, and as one he met his tragic, yet honourable end. […] Her steps were soft in the corridor, almost unnoticeable. Yura's expression was a blank canvas, stoic and calm as she always seemed to portray herself. She didn't hesitate to open the door once she reached it, and with a delicate tone she made her presence known. “Mother.” The mere sound from the door opening made every gaze inside the room turn towards her. Yura found her mother exactly as she thought she would; half lying on her futon - where she spent most of the time - crying, surrounded by a few female servants. Her aunt, a proud and strong warrior unlike the heartbroken woman, was by her side as well. Heavy was the weight on the warrior's shoulders now, for not only did she had to comfort her disconsolate sister, but also had become the new ruler of the Hagane clan. Everyone would depend on her now. “Yu… Yura…!” her mother whimpered, the pain more than clear in her voice and thoughts. “You… You knew! ...You knew everything!! You saw his end, didn't you?!!” “Calm down,” the other woman said, placing both hands on her sister's shoulders. She knew it was sadness speaking, clouding those thoughts to the point of blaming her own daughter. The accused girl remained by the door, standing up above everyone else with an unchanging, serious expression. She might have a weak body, just like her mother, but her family name was reflected in her mind of steel. When her lips parted to speak, her voice was the same calm sound from before, the one which didn't let anything come through. “Yes, I knew what would happen,” she confessed. “But I could not sacrifice my life for father like you did. It was not my place to interfere with his fate's designs.” As she pronounced the last words, her eyes narrowed slightly, coldly. She'd just thrown an accusation of her own, one that couldn't get any sort of reproval from her mother and her aunt, no matter how much either of them could despise her for not preventing such a tragedy. The heartbroken woman could simply close her eyes and cry. Cry, for this was the end of everything she'd sacrificed everything for, including her own daughter. And yet… “I do not hate you, mother,” the young female added softly. “You simply took your path, just as I shall take mine now.”

If my English was better, I'd offer my Astro for this scene. Luckily, it seems you got some candidates already ^^

I'm still waiting for confirmation that these poses are shared among all races like some people seemed to suggest, but so far I'm getting the opposite message from the screens... >_< In any case, I'm really excited about 3.1. It's full of tons of things. SE is even adding a new camera mode for us screenshotters, which might not be a free camera mode, but still sounds very interesting.

Dungeon gear looks wonderful! Also flying mounts. I hope the unicorn will fly as well *crosses fingers*