[ . . The Collector:  Part One . . ]
C O E R T H A S
   A zeyma's fading light set the snow-covered ledges and mounds alight with a pearlescent sheen, glittering and reflecting the dark, deep reds and purples of the evening sky lording over the remote Coerthan village. Xheja studied the array of colors and shades with a vague, distant interest through the frosted window pane, the sight alone enough to send a sudden shiver down her spine. A softly crackling hearth radiated warmth not more than ten fulm away in the cottage, but even still, the Keeper could feel the chill settling into her bones.Â
   There was just something about this place that was oppressingly cold deep down to its core, the wet snow and piercing winds aside. Thick wools and furs could ward off the frostbite and hypothermia from the weather. Yet there was nothing to deter the bone-chilling coolness that came from the Ishgardian people themselves.Â
   The largely Elezen and Hyur population in the small village of Drakesbane had 'warmly welcomed' her just shy of two months prior with the stern warning of what would become of her should she cause problems for them. The leader of the small township had personally marched her to the main hall to show her the mounted head of the terrible drake whose demise had served as the village's namesake, to demonstrate to her 'the fate of those who threaten Ishgard and draw the Fury's ire.' She had accepted the warning with a blank nod, letting her nerves stay hidden underneath the surface as to not expose weakness,  but the worries were definitely there, resting heavy in the pit of her stomach.
   A movement from the corner of the cottage pulled Xheja's attention away from the window and back towards the tall Elezen man across the room as he moved from one thing to the next, scratching out quick notes with a ragged quill one moment and then measuring out and mixing various reagents into a small bowl the next. As he worked, he muttered softly to himself, occasionally stopping long enough to thoughtfully tug at the graying tuft of wiry hair covering his chin. The Keeper woman smiled fondly as she watched in silence.
   Marcelloix Thieroux occupied a position of high regard in Drakesbane, and in this region of Coerthas at large. At one point in time, he had served as a Mage Captain in the guard of a prominent Ishgardian house. Which house it was, Xheja was still unsure. He had mentioned it to her at some point or another, surely, but with many Elezen names, her miqo'te tongue struggled to pronounce it, much less commit it to memory.
   During his celebrated career, the man had protected his people against the Dravanian horde as any good Ishgardian knight would. Yet his true claim to fame laid elsewhere, in his vast and valuable knowledge of the Voidsent. As a veteran practitioner of thaumaturgy, Marcelloix possessed not only a theoretical, but also a practical knowledge of the Void and its myriad creatures. Their region in particular struggled with the presence of the peculiar monsters just as surely as they warred with the dragons, and so a man with not only knowledge about their inner workings but with the ability to effectively and efficiently dispatch them had been worth his weight in gil coins to the Ishgardian house.
   Yet with age, the man had chosen to retire from his post, taking up residence in the small village to live out the rest of his days practicing his art and conducting his studies in relative peace. Drakesbane had provided Marcelloix a quiet atmosphere for his research, and the village's citizens eagerly welcomed someone who had proven himself skilled enough to have bestowed upon him one of the original Stardust Rods forged by Shatotto herself - a relic that his Lord had went to great pains to acquire for him as a gift for his leal service.Â
   When Xheja had first appeared in the village to seek him out, the man had been suspicious as the rest. Though he had received correspondence from an associate in the Arrzaneth Ossuary speaking of her desire to study the Void under him, her revelation of her true intentions had alarmed him somewhat. Though the Keeper woman did possess a desire to learn about the Void, it was the need to discover more about her condition - the taint that stained her aether, as Lren had once told her - that claimed her highest priority.Â
   There was just something about this place that was oppressingly cold deep down to its core, the wet snow and piercing winds aside. Thick wools and furs could ward off the frostbite and hypothermia from the weather. Yet there was nothing to deter the bone-chilling coolness that came from the Ishgardian people themselves.Â
   The largely Elezen and Hyur population in the small village of Drakesbane had 'warmly welcomed' her just shy of two months prior with the stern warning of what would become of her should she cause problems for them. The leader of the small township had personally marched her to the main hall to show her the mounted head of the terrible drake whose demise had served as the village's namesake, to demonstrate to her 'the fate of those who threaten Ishgard and draw the Fury's ire.' She had accepted the warning with a blank nod, letting her nerves stay hidden underneath the surface as to not expose weakness,  but the worries were definitely there, resting heavy in the pit of her stomach.
   A movement from the corner of the cottage pulled Xheja's attention away from the window and back towards the tall Elezen man across the room as he moved from one thing to the next, scratching out quick notes with a ragged quill one moment and then measuring out and mixing various reagents into a small bowl the next. As he worked, he muttered softly to himself, occasionally stopping long enough to thoughtfully tug at the graying tuft of wiry hair covering his chin. The Keeper woman smiled fondly as she watched in silence.
   Marcelloix Thieroux occupied a position of high regard in Drakesbane, and in this region of Coerthas at large. At one point in time, he had served as a Mage Captain in the guard of a prominent Ishgardian house. Which house it was, Xheja was still unsure. He had mentioned it to her at some point or another, surely, but with many Elezen names, her miqo'te tongue struggled to pronounce it, much less commit it to memory.
   During his celebrated career, the man had protected his people against the Dravanian horde as any good Ishgardian knight would. Yet his true claim to fame laid elsewhere, in his vast and valuable knowledge of the Voidsent. As a veteran practitioner of thaumaturgy, Marcelloix possessed not only a theoretical, but also a practical knowledge of the Void and its myriad creatures. Their region in particular struggled with the presence of the peculiar monsters just as surely as they warred with the dragons, and so a man with not only knowledge about their inner workings but with the ability to effectively and efficiently dispatch them had been worth his weight in gil coins to the Ishgardian house.
   Yet with age, the man had chosen to retire from his post, taking up residence in the small village to live out the rest of his days practicing his art and conducting his studies in relative peace. Drakesbane had provided Marcelloix a quiet atmosphere for his research, and the village's citizens eagerly welcomed someone who had proven himself skilled enough to have bestowed upon him one of the original Stardust Rods forged by Shatotto herself - a relic that his Lord had went to great pains to acquire for him as a gift for his leal service.Â
   When Xheja had first appeared in the village to seek him out, the man had been suspicious as the rest. Though he had received correspondence from an associate in the Arrzaneth Ossuary speaking of her desire to study the Void under him, her revelation of her true intentions had alarmed him somewhat. Though the Keeper woman did possess a desire to learn about the Void, it was the need to discover more about her condition - the taint that stained her aether, as Lren had once told her - that claimed her highest priority.Â
   Only with much begging did the man seem to reluctantly entertain her request, but not before issuing her a task to prove her dedication and willpower. He had given her a name and a location of another mage living in a keep of his own not too far away. The man had told her to tell him what she wished to learn, and to listen carefully to what he had to say. Only then, he had told her, would he teach her all he knew about the Void.
   At once, she had departed, eager to finally have answers. It did not take long for her to find the keep, and a rather familiar face that had beaten her there, though the man had markedly changed from her memories of him. The beast of a man, as she had learned, had been employed by a nearby town to clear the keep of the mage and his retainers after a number of kidnappings had taken place at his hand.
   When all was said and done, the woman did not even have much of a chance to speak to the insane mage before he had been cut down by the bloodthirsty Sunseeker. Discouraged by the outcome, she had returned to Marcelloix empty-handed, certain he would turn her away for her apparent failure to secure the knowledge she had been tasked with retrieving. Yet the Elezen man had actually been quite surprised to find her at his doorstep, no worse for wear and not utterly corrupted. It had been a test, to judge whether or not she would give in to the Void's corruption as the slain madman had, and she had passed. At least, she had passed the test as far as the Elezen man was concerned. The Keeper chose to keep J'suloh's involvement in the matter to herself.
   Afterwards, the two months had passed in an overwhelming blur. She had sorely underestimated how much there was to know about the Void, and the kind of knowledge and ability she needed to possess in order to wrest it - and thereby, herself - under her complete control. It was tiring and frustrating work, and more often than not, the woman found herself stuck at some barrier or another. There were tomes upon tomes that she needed to read, endless rituals to learn.. Yet there was one thing in particular that evaded her, eventually bringing all progress to a standstill:  a name.
    "The key to truly controlling a creature of the Void is knowledge. Yet if we do not even know what this creature is, the rest of our work is for naught," Marcelloix had finally told her one afternoon after yet another failed attempt at calling forth the creature and learning its identity. "Whatever creature has buried its claws into your aether, it is strong and it is stubborn, and it is unlike any case I have ever seen."Â
   No matter how hard they had tugged at it, they were met with nothing but dead weight. It was as if the creature was so firmly rooted in the Void that it was literally impossible to force its materialization into the physical realm. Even the highly knowledgeable mage who had earned his renown by forcing particularly unruly Voidsent into submission seemingly could not get a handle upon the creature.
   Each day had wore on Xheja more than the last, bringing her back to the same state of worry and depression that had set upon her before she had even left Ul'dah. The flicker of hope she had felt when she had set out for Coerthas was waning, losing its desperate fight against the sharp, cold winds and the darkness that seemed to be all but closing in on her. Was it hopeless? Was there nothing that could be done? The questions and doubts haunted her even as she slept, until she could no longer rest through the night and dark circles began to form under her lids.
   When the Keeper woman had almost reached the end of her hope, almost resolving to surrender and depart from Drakesbane immediately, Marcelloix had returned to her with one last method by which they might learn what demon haunted her. The older man was obviously delighted at himself as he spoke of his idea to her, pale blue-grey eyes alight with the wild excitement she had seen in the eyes of many scholars and mages at the precipice of a new discovery. It was a look that she was intimately familiar with, having worn it herself on a handful of occasions.
   "If the beast is too stubborn or simply unable to be summoned here, then there is but two options left to us. We can either surrender the pursuit and continue, grasping blindly and unknowingly for information we're like to never find on our own. But the other option.. We abandon the thought of summoning, and instead take you to the creature." Xheja could still remember clearly the grin that took his lips, even as he began to shuffle through piles of papers of hastily and sloppily scribbled notes. Clearly, he had put much thought into this. Yet her hesitation had been palpable, weighing in the pit of her stomach like a stone.
   "You're saying that there is a way for me to go.. to the Void?" She began, tone questioning. "Forgive me for my doubts, but is it not the case that those whose aether is absorbed into the Void tend to remain there? Permanently?"
   His grin widened, as if he had been waiting for her to ask that one question the whole time. "You've claimed before that your aether is bound to this plane of existence, have you not? That when you lost your footing at Witchdrop some years ago and fell, your aether returned to your body and resurrected you some time later?" As the look of dawning revelation appeared on her face, he nodded. "Given the manner in which the Void taint is so intricately entwined with your aether, it is my belief that in such a case, the Void is where your aether retreats in the interim before it is called back to the vessel to which it is inexorably bound - your own physical body."
   "Then as long as my body remains here..." She began, paused, and then returned his grin with one of her own. "I will be able to return."
   Yet for how simple the plan had sounded, the preparations were overwhelming and it became increasingly obvious that it was anything but. The two of them pored through book after book, searching for any precedent of what they sought to accomplish. They theorized endlessly about different scenarios. They gathered the myriad materials that they needed for the ritual. For the first time in months, the two of them were refreshed and hopeful. Excited, even. If all went according to plan, the answers they needed were at their fingertips, just waiting to be grasped.
   Now, the day had finally arrived. Xheja was pulled out of her thoughts to the sound of Marcelloix's voice, murmuring quietly to himself, finally breaking the quiet with a weighted sigh. He turned towards her, studying the dark-haired woman for a long moment before leveling his serious gaze upon her.
   "It is time to begin," He began, stepping aside and motioning towards the table set out in front of him, everything upon it meticulously placed. "Are you ready, Xheja?"
   Her mouth opened to reply, but the words momentarily died in her throat. For a long moment, all she could do was stare silently at the other, studying his him intently. He wore his exhaustion on his sleeve. This man - her beloved mentor and friend - had worked tirelessly for days now to see this plan through for her. She owed him a great debt that she doubted could ever be repaid. The thought was enough to stir an emotional tickle in the back of her throat. Yet she refrained, instead offering him a tentative smile as she pushed herself from the window.
   "Yes. I am ready."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|| . . . OOC Notes . . . ||
So, this is part one of three as far as the backstory goes to explain Xheja's change of character. Originally, I was going to write it all up in one shot.. But it kind of ended up being a lot longer and more detailed than I had planned. Ha, whoopsie. Not sure when I'll get the other two parts finished seeing as I'm trying to finishing kicking a nasty cold, but I'll do my best. Let me know what y'all think! c:
