Terrorist. Not a noun Jin'to had ever expected to give to a member of his family. And yet he was now faced with the reality of not having to call not one, but two brothers that word. His little brother Jin'li, and this mysterious older brother he had never met, with Mergrey.
The hot wind blasted Jin'to as he trudged up the massive sand dune slowly, his bare feet sinking into the fine sand. Â His tail twitched anxiously as he adjusted the board slung across his back. The board was a long, narrow thing with filed, metal edges, a waxed bottom, and a pair of leather bindings dangling from the top. His prized possession. How many years and miles had he lugged this thing across?
Jin'to had never been to the sand dunes of Southern Thanalan before, but after last night, he needed to get away, to collect himself. Â Natalie had almost broken him. Â His time in Ul'dah had been stressful enough already. Forced to face the truth of Jin'li's atrocities. Â Cast under constant suspicion. Â And then Natalie had threatened him. Made him squirm. And, although she claimed he had earned her trust, he was still afraid it might just be words. Natalie was not the kind of woman Jin'to wanted to make an enemy out of.
He had already done that by simply asking for directions.
Jin'to shuddered as he crested the dune's peak. His golden eyes behind his goggles swept across the landscape, taking in the ocean of sand that danced before him. The beauty of the landscape before him was diminished in his mind as he thought back on that woman he had met in the bar. Hound she had called herself. And she had made is incredibly clear she would eagerly tear him limb for limb for simply being Jin'li's brother. Jin'to wasn't sure exactly what sort of relationship Hound had with his baby brother, but he hadn't thought it wise, or prudent, to stick around and find out. The look in that massive roe's eye. . .
Jin'to sat down as he un-slung his board and went about binding his feet to the board, the leather bindings clicking as the buckles snapped shut. The sun shone hot and clear overhead in a empty, blue sky. The wind moaned in Jin'to's ears and he rubbed his face with both of his hands.
For the first time in nearly seven years, he questioned the Twelve's purpose for his life. He looked out at the land, that sun baked realm of sand and considered what he was supposed to do now. Should he resume his wandering life, spreading the words of the Twelve, and laying the deceased to rest? Should he stay in Ul'dah and try to redeem the Epinoch name by salvaging what small good will he could with his sermons and services? Why had the Twelve chosen to curse his little brother with madness and let him commit such atrocities?
Jin'to buried his face in his hands and was still. He thought back on the smiling little brother he had once known. That little bundle of joy, who, sick as he was, had always been such a kind and gentle soul. How many times had Jin'to held his little brother to comfort him? How many times had they laughed together? Jin'to's stomach twisted. What had happened in the seven years since he last saw his brother to make him into the monster everyone in Ul'dah viewed him as?Â
Jin'to swallowed, his stomach in knots and his eyes were watering. He sniffed and then, with a loud scream of frustration, stood up and hurled himself down the dune, his waxed board sliding across the sands with alarming speed. Jin'to felt the rush as he sped down the hill, his problems and fears, his doubts and confusion falling away as the sense of freedom he always felt when doing this enveloped him.
This was the Twelve's gift to him. This was his sense of freedom. The miqo'to sped down, pivoting his weight back and forth, digging in with first his toe edge and then his heel edge to regulate his speed and control his balance. Dozens of feet flew by in a flash and a smile creased the miqo'to's lips, his fangs flashing in the sun as he screamed in jubilation.Â
In those moments of ecstasy, he was at peace.
But, like all good things, his run down the dune came to an end. He reached the bottom and fell to his knees. Immediately, his worries and concerns slammed into him again. Jin'to's smile faded as he turned to look back up at the dune and the trail that marked his descent. His feelings of depression were slightly lessened. The priest figured it would take two more runs to ease his mind, three to ease the pain in his heart, and a total of six more runs for his optimism and faith in the Twelve to return. This was his therapy. There was nothing like it in all the world save on snow, and Jin'to had always had this to turn to when things seemed ready to overwhelm him completely.Â
Jin'to rose to his feet, unbuckled the bindings, and slung the board across his back once again as he began the long climb back up the dune and the peace of mind he would find at the top.
The hot wind blasted Jin'to as he trudged up the massive sand dune slowly, his bare feet sinking into the fine sand. Â His tail twitched anxiously as he adjusted the board slung across his back. The board was a long, narrow thing with filed, metal edges, a waxed bottom, and a pair of leather bindings dangling from the top. His prized possession. How many years and miles had he lugged this thing across?
Jin'to had never been to the sand dunes of Southern Thanalan before, but after last night, he needed to get away, to collect himself. Â Natalie had almost broken him. Â His time in Ul'dah had been stressful enough already. Forced to face the truth of Jin'li's atrocities. Â Cast under constant suspicion. Â And then Natalie had threatened him. Made him squirm. And, although she claimed he had earned her trust, he was still afraid it might just be words. Natalie was not the kind of woman Jin'to wanted to make an enemy out of.
He had already done that by simply asking for directions.
Jin'to shuddered as he crested the dune's peak. His golden eyes behind his goggles swept across the landscape, taking in the ocean of sand that danced before him. The beauty of the landscape before him was diminished in his mind as he thought back on that woman he had met in the bar. Hound she had called herself. And she had made is incredibly clear she would eagerly tear him limb for limb for simply being Jin'li's brother. Jin'to wasn't sure exactly what sort of relationship Hound had with his baby brother, but he hadn't thought it wise, or prudent, to stick around and find out. The look in that massive roe's eye. . .
Jin'to sat down as he un-slung his board and went about binding his feet to the board, the leather bindings clicking as the buckles snapped shut. The sun shone hot and clear overhead in a empty, blue sky. The wind moaned in Jin'to's ears and he rubbed his face with both of his hands.
For the first time in nearly seven years, he questioned the Twelve's purpose for his life. He looked out at the land, that sun baked realm of sand and considered what he was supposed to do now. Should he resume his wandering life, spreading the words of the Twelve, and laying the deceased to rest? Should he stay in Ul'dah and try to redeem the Epinoch name by salvaging what small good will he could with his sermons and services? Why had the Twelve chosen to curse his little brother with madness and let him commit such atrocities?
Jin'to buried his face in his hands and was still. He thought back on the smiling little brother he had once known. That little bundle of joy, who, sick as he was, had always been such a kind and gentle soul. How many times had Jin'to held his little brother to comfort him? How many times had they laughed together? Jin'to's stomach twisted. What had happened in the seven years since he last saw his brother to make him into the monster everyone in Ul'dah viewed him as?Â
Jin'to swallowed, his stomach in knots and his eyes were watering. He sniffed and then, with a loud scream of frustration, stood up and hurled himself down the dune, his waxed board sliding across the sands with alarming speed. Jin'to felt the rush as he sped down the hill, his problems and fears, his doubts and confusion falling away as the sense of freedom he always felt when doing this enveloped him.
This was the Twelve's gift to him. This was his sense of freedom. The miqo'to sped down, pivoting his weight back and forth, digging in with first his toe edge and then his heel edge to regulate his speed and control his balance. Dozens of feet flew by in a flash and a smile creased the miqo'to's lips, his fangs flashing in the sun as he screamed in jubilation.Â
In those moments of ecstasy, he was at peace.
But, like all good things, his run down the dune came to an end. He reached the bottom and fell to his knees. Immediately, his worries and concerns slammed into him again. Jin'to's smile faded as he turned to look back up at the dune and the trail that marked his descent. His feelings of depression were slightly lessened. The priest figured it would take two more runs to ease his mind, three to ease the pain in his heart, and a total of six more runs for his optimism and faith in the Twelve to return. This was his therapy. There was nothing like it in all the world save on snow, and Jin'to had always had this to turn to when things seemed ready to overwhelm him completely.Â
Jin'to rose to his feet, unbuckled the bindings, and slung the board across his back once again as he began the long climb back up the dune and the peace of mind he would find at the top.
