It was a vision of the past that brought with it the feeling of ice water being splashed into your face and a painful sensation running up from your stomach to your chest. When your eyes well up with tears and you stop yourself from crying so there is this uncomfortable stuffy feeling in your face like a dam about to explode. Even in her old age she was like a goddess. Maybe a silver goddess. The lines in her face did very little to distract from the beauty of the midlander woman sitting across from Grish'a in the Limsan restaurant. Green eyes, faded blond hair now a silver waterfall cascading down here sides. Her dress spoke of wealth attained sometime after they had parted ways.
The old Keeper with his caterpillar eyebrows and grumpy face could only flinch in his forever irritated expression. Gaze softened to a mixture of happy and sad that you would think was impossible and would look stupid but by the gods his eyebrows went one way while his lips went another.
"You aged rather gracefully." The old woman ran a finger along her glass, head resting in her hand as she observed Grish'a. Grish'a returned what looked to be a dream filled gaze with a confused one. She continued "No, maybe not gracefully. Perhaps you simply grew into what you always were meant to be. A grumpy old man."
There was a moment of silence that hung in the air between them in the night air. A cool breeze snapped them out of their contemplative quiet with a burst of laughter from each of them. The aged male stroked the graying scruff at his chin after that. "I is not always being the old male you is seeing. There is being time I was animal. You remembering time like this, right Brunhilda?"
Brunhilda smiles. "Nobody has called me that in quite some time. They call me Hildy now." She held her glass and pointed at the miqo'te, smiling as she wags her finger at him, "And I'm a married woman now so you keep it together you hear?"
Another moment of silence filled the air. This one was not punctuated with a friendly laugh. Grish'a stared across the chasm of silence, the rapturous joy crushed by the weight of what could have been for him. It should have been, it could have been, it never was and never will be. "I am glad you is found happiness."
"And you?" Hildy asked before sipping on her wine glass. Grish'a considered her words and his ears fell flat. Was he truly happy?
Grish'a spoke then in his native tongue, not sharing with her the depth of how he felt but expressing it in his tone. He wanted his words to come out properly for a change.
<<"The world feels smaller now than it ever has. As I get older it shrinks more and more. As travel becomes easier and as forces draw nearer.... as the people begin to flood in.">> Grish'a looked out to the docks, to the water, to find his next words. <<"The sense of wonder is gone. Adventure can only be found in one place now. I'm close to accomplishing my dream. I'll have an airship soon and I'll be able to explore new frontiers. But there is still this lingering sense of smallness about everything.">>
Grish'a laced his fingers together and leaned against the table. <<"We keep stumbling across the ruins and rubble of the past and eyeballing it, trying to reclaim what we feel was lost or trying to salvage technology that we are nowhere near ready for. It never feels like we're on a frontier. It always feels like we're just trying to remember what we'd lost. Our adventure isn't discovering anything new, it is rediscovering what was lost. The only sense of awe is what others had done before us. Not what we can do. Not what we can see. I feel a creative emptiness as an engineer and explorer...">>
Grish'a returned his gaze to the woman who looked lost as to what it was exactly he was saying. "I am being ah... the depressing yah? We is the old friends reuniting!" He holds his arms out and offered his usual spirited grin. "I is having airship building and apprentices and we is going out and fighting!"
A smile returned to the old midlander's face as the miqo'te livened up a bit. She didn't know what it was the male had said prior but it always sounded so much better when he spoke his native tongue than common. The meaning just filled each word. She understood what it was at least. There was a sense of longing in the miqo'te.
She set her glass to the side then and elegantly moved to sit in the chair nearest to Grish'a. "It feels cruel us meeting up like this again. I should have written."
"So should I."
"Your hand writing is horrible." She smiled after the fact and let her arm rest upon the miqo'te's shoulder. Grish'a flinched but did not move away from the sensation. He missed it, really. He missed her. "I got better."
Hildy pressed against Grish'a. "I think you know why I asked you to meet me here."
"I know." Grish'a spoke lightly.
"It couldn't have stayed buried forever."
"I know."
"Then you know you have to walk those old roads again."
Their spurts of conversation were bookmarked with silence once again. Grish'a looked absolutely miserable. This was cruel. And perhaps what magic was there no longer sparked. She truly was gone.
"Why did you leave?" he asked, speaking as slowly and as clearly as he could.
Hildy did not respond. She only reached for her wine across the table. After drinking the last of it she left a note on the table and leaned in to place a small kiss atop Grish'a's forehead. The old Keeper was left alone in the Limsan night. Around him tables filled with people laughed and talked well into the night. The old Keeper held in his hand the note that may well mean going back to when he first arrived in Eorzea. To those dark times.
Grish'a wanted a bottle of wine.
The old Keeper with his caterpillar eyebrows and grumpy face could only flinch in his forever irritated expression. Gaze softened to a mixture of happy and sad that you would think was impossible and would look stupid but by the gods his eyebrows went one way while his lips went another.
"You aged rather gracefully." The old woman ran a finger along her glass, head resting in her hand as she observed Grish'a. Grish'a returned what looked to be a dream filled gaze with a confused one. She continued "No, maybe not gracefully. Perhaps you simply grew into what you always were meant to be. A grumpy old man."
There was a moment of silence that hung in the air between them in the night air. A cool breeze snapped them out of their contemplative quiet with a burst of laughter from each of them. The aged male stroked the graying scruff at his chin after that. "I is not always being the old male you is seeing. There is being time I was animal. You remembering time like this, right Brunhilda?"
Brunhilda smiles. "Nobody has called me that in quite some time. They call me Hildy now." She held her glass and pointed at the miqo'te, smiling as she wags her finger at him, "And I'm a married woman now so you keep it together you hear?"
Another moment of silence filled the air. This one was not punctuated with a friendly laugh. Grish'a stared across the chasm of silence, the rapturous joy crushed by the weight of what could have been for him. It should have been, it could have been, it never was and never will be. "I am glad you is found happiness."
"And you?" Hildy asked before sipping on her wine glass. Grish'a considered her words and his ears fell flat. Was he truly happy?
Grish'a spoke then in his native tongue, not sharing with her the depth of how he felt but expressing it in his tone. He wanted his words to come out properly for a change.
<<"The world feels smaller now than it ever has. As I get older it shrinks more and more. As travel becomes easier and as forces draw nearer.... as the people begin to flood in.">> Grish'a looked out to the docks, to the water, to find his next words. <<"The sense of wonder is gone. Adventure can only be found in one place now. I'm close to accomplishing my dream. I'll have an airship soon and I'll be able to explore new frontiers. But there is still this lingering sense of smallness about everything.">>
Grish'a laced his fingers together and leaned against the table. <<"We keep stumbling across the ruins and rubble of the past and eyeballing it, trying to reclaim what we feel was lost or trying to salvage technology that we are nowhere near ready for. It never feels like we're on a frontier. It always feels like we're just trying to remember what we'd lost. Our adventure isn't discovering anything new, it is rediscovering what was lost. The only sense of awe is what others had done before us. Not what we can do. Not what we can see. I feel a creative emptiness as an engineer and explorer...">>
Grish'a returned his gaze to the woman who looked lost as to what it was exactly he was saying. "I am being ah... the depressing yah? We is the old friends reuniting!" He holds his arms out and offered his usual spirited grin. "I is having airship building and apprentices and we is going out and fighting!"
A smile returned to the old midlander's face as the miqo'te livened up a bit. She didn't know what it was the male had said prior but it always sounded so much better when he spoke his native tongue than common. The meaning just filled each word. She understood what it was at least. There was a sense of longing in the miqo'te.
She set her glass to the side then and elegantly moved to sit in the chair nearest to Grish'a. "It feels cruel us meeting up like this again. I should have written."
"So should I."
"Your hand writing is horrible." She smiled after the fact and let her arm rest upon the miqo'te's shoulder. Grish'a flinched but did not move away from the sensation. He missed it, really. He missed her. "I got better."
Hildy pressed against Grish'a. "I think you know why I asked you to meet me here."
"I know." Grish'a spoke lightly.
"It couldn't have stayed buried forever."
"I know."
"Then you know you have to walk those old roads again."
Their spurts of conversation were bookmarked with silence once again. Grish'a looked absolutely miserable. This was cruel. And perhaps what magic was there no longer sparked. She truly was gone.
"Why did you leave?" he asked, speaking as slowly and as clearly as he could.
Hildy did not respond. She only reached for her wine across the table. After drinking the last of it she left a note on the table and leaned in to place a small kiss atop Grish'a's forehead. The old Keeper was left alone in the Limsan night. Around him tables filled with people laughed and talked well into the night. The old Keeper held in his hand the note that may well mean going back to when he first arrived in Eorzea. To those dark times.
Grish'a wanted a bottle of wine.
![[Image: Hz7oKHP.png]](http://i.imgur.com/Hz7oKHP.png)
