The dark, imposing silhouette of the Xaela warrior was the last thing that Roen had expected to see when she visited the cemetery.
She herself was not sure why she came to this place, an ice covered hill peppered with burial mounds and gravestones, almost forgotten on the northern side of Coerthas Western Highlands. Perhaps she sought the deserted place for its solemn isolation. Not many lived this far from Falcon’s Nest, after all, for the conditions were too harsh.
But the deceased still remained here, entombed beneath the frozen earth. After witnessing the Au Ra female left impaled in the wild, her own losses began to weigh upon her mind, and soon the paladin found herself here amongst the dead. Roen had burnt Nero’s body, and she was far from the oceanic coasts of Vylbrand where she had sent his burning remains to float out into the sea. A part of her longed for the view of the horizon where she had last seen the flickering flames die. And there was no where else that the paladin could go to revisit the memories of the those who were lost, except for this abandoned graveyard.
With Khadai’s indifferent attitude toward the female Au Ra still fresh on her mind, Roen did not know what to make of his presence here. He stood stock straight--a stance befitting one of martial discipline--his hand straight at his side as he stared at a gravestone. Roen sensed no meditation or melancholy in his pose, so she came to stand a few yalms behind him. “Khadai.â€
"You have questions," was all he rumbled back without turning. He did not seem startled by her arrival.
"I am surprised to find you here." She did not close the distance between them; she did not want to intrude. "I thought you did not care for the dead."
"I do not." His attention remained on the headstone in front of him. “But the Western continent's attachment to those who have passed… understanding that attachment is tied to my understanding of its people as a whole."
"Do your people not mourn those who have passed on?"
“We do." The answer is flat and immediate. "You would not think so if you watched us, though."
"No ceremony then?"
"No."
"But you feel their loss."
"We do not feel the need to display it."
Roen ascended the small hill to stand a few fulms away, regarding his profile. She still recalled his cold willingness to dismember the body of the impaled woman just to remove her from the stake. It was something she would have never considered. "How do you dispose of the dead then?"
"That depends on the circumstances." A passing wind tossed his green streaked ebony locks over his one exposed shoulder, but the Xaela did not seemed bothered by the prospect of frostbite. "If it is an individual, a shallow grave. If it is many, a mass grave."
"And if one of your own was found murdered in the wild?"
"A shallow grave," he said after a brief pause. "Unless the body is difficult to remove. The Khadai only bury their dead to mask the losses from our enemy. If one passes in camp, they are removed for the health of all. Otherwise, they are disposed of in the manner that is deemed to be the most efficient and least exhaustive. At times, that means the corpses are abandoned in the wild."
Only a quick exhale through her nose betrayed her chagrin. "How practical. Are there no sentimentality allowed?"
Khadai responded with a sharp glance from the corner of his eye. "You think my people emotionless and cold. Without thought or feeling. A body is merely that. A body. It is a vessel. A dead body is, too, a vessel. One that no longer carries the mind or spirit of the one who inhabited it. One does not mourn spilled water by grieving over the jug." He paused, then corrected himself. "....Should not."
“You do seem intolerant of any sentimentality." Her lips tightened. "Everyone grieves differently. Here, in this land, we remember the dead by treating their body with respect. We may burn them or bury them… there are different ways to depart with those whom you have lost."
"The dead should not burden the living," the Au Ra spat out. "They warrant no resources, and only as much attention as is required that they do not adversely affect those around them with disease and carrion. The fuel required to burn a body could warm a hundred dwellings for half a moon. It is… wasteful." There was a frown audible in his voice. "This is a land of abundance, without material hardship, if it is to be using its resources in such a manner."
His words gave her pause. "Your land must be harsh indeed, if you have to limit yourself from even a batch of firewood or a jug of oil to burn a body." She had assumed from his demeanor that he placed no value in nostalgia, reminiscence, or civilities. But his interaction with Edda, his dedication to uphold his pact with her even if it would interfere or delay his own plans, it at least spoke something about his honor. And now, she was beginning to glean an understanding of how different his life may have been before coming to Eorzea.
"I suppose we do spend resources on how we treat the dead." Her mood had calmed, and her tone dipped with melancholy. "Perhaps it is in a way, making up for the loss we feel when they are gone."
"By using resources that would be better spent improving the lives of the living?" He cocked his head at her. "Your people have odd priorities. If a body is to be burned, it is for the sake of keeping the environment clean. Otherwise, to dispose of it with fire is as pointless a gesture as dressing the body, or attempting to feed it."
"....do your people do that, as well?" he added after a pause. He sounded half mocking and half serious.
"Do not mock the culture you do not know." The frown that rose was immediate and her words came quick and clipped.
The Xaela turned his head back to the headstone in front of him. "I was told of the Western continent's practices before I arrived. I still understand very little of it. You are a people of contradictions."
It was after a long pause that he spoke again. "...I would ask a question."
Roen found her ire fading as quickly as it rose. She had not come here to argue of all things. "Ask."
Khadai pointed to the faded headstone. Where there once might have been artistic calligraphy engraved into the stone, wind and time had worn away the grooves and cuts into an illegible scrawl. "There was writing there. Do you know what it says?"
She scanned the faded markings on the stone and shook her head. "Nay. But it oft holds a message for one who had passed. Along with their name, perhaps the length of their life."
"But it says none of that now. It is a simple engraving. It does not wear easily, and when it does it is simple to maintain." He slightly turned, sweeping his arms to the other headstones around them. "These are similar."
"If your people possess such respect for the dead, why are none who lay here remembered? Their names lost. Their purposes unfulfilled. To clean the headstone… it is a trivial matter."
Roen knew that his words held no fallacy. This place had been forgotten and abandoned to the unmerciful climate. "The headstones, the graves, the burial. They are all symbols of ceremony. It allows for others to surrender to their grief during the process." Her voice quieted. "Then as their sorrow passes... so do the care of the stones, I suppose." Would she forget her own losses in time? Was that not why she had come to Coerthas? To forcibly forget?
"When the loss is raw and fresh, we all need..." Roen paused, searching for the right word. "...We all need ways to cope."
"Their causes are abandoned. Their ideals forgotten. What made them people are left behind, to litter the past like these stone markers litter this hill." Khadai shook his head. “Life is meant for the living. That is what we believe."
His voice remained stern but without reproach. "We do not waste platitudes on the dead. If those who have passed have earned our respect, we carry on their work. Adopt their ideas. The dead care not for material comforts or verbal expression. To waste moments of our lives giving them what they do not want nor need… that is disrespectful." The Au Ra shrugged. "So it goes."
"Sometimes it is easier said than done," Roen murmured.
"You burn your bodies here. I have seen the cold areas of your city. 'The Brume'. Why is the firewood not distributed there, instead of being used to dispose of a body?" He gave her a sidelong glance. "The effort to bury, why is that not used to reconstruct? To ignore the living for the dead… I do not expect I will ever understand such a sentiment."
The paladin felt her chest sink a little. "The Brume needs much. I... I cannot argue that I too would like to see more resources given to those who are in need. I do not know if you have seen The Pillars. The wealth that is bountiful there. There is a disparity in our society that exists despite logic."
"I do not understand. Your people possess resources. Wisdom. Knowledge. This much is evident. Triumphs in architecture. Wealth. Abundance. And yet there are those who are lacking. Those who are sick, and lost. Those who are frightened, hopeless." He shook his head. "This is why I call your people… contradictions."
He gestured to the headstone again. "You respect the bodies of the dead, but not why they died, or what causes they carried in life. To be such a people of paradox. I cannot fathom such an existence.â€
Her frown only deepened. "Not all causes are abandoned. They are just..." Roen had to pause, swallowing the tightness she felt in her throat. "To try and bring equality to all, to try and end the suffering of all who are in need... it is... a dream."
"There is greed. Avarice. Pride. All these things are also abundant in our society. Those who have comforts do not want to lose them. Those who lack them, are desperate to do anything to take what they can."
"Your people are cynical," he observed. "They have lost the reason and drive both to work towards something better."
"Someone once said... cynics are disappointed idealists." Her words did not sound like her own. "There are people who try to work for something better. To help whoever they can. Some even resort to radical means to try and achieve those ends."
The paladin dipped her head. "I..." She paused. "It... oft does not end well."
Khadai did not answer her immediately, he seemed lost in his own thoughts. "You do not trust the civilization you identify with," he said after a long silence.
Roen’s head hung her head low, her auburn forelocks falling before her eyes. They swayed when she shook her head. "I tried," she quietly confessed. "I… we... believed that we could change things for the better. I have only ruination and deaths to show for it."
Her frown turned into a scowl. "The world does not want to change. Those who know do not care. And those who care do not know."
Khadai glanced at her, a rare expression of sympathy on his face. "There is a parable about such a thing." He shifted his stance, eyes strangely thoughtful. "A priest came upon a blind man who stumbled amid a forest. The blind man would trip and fall, and call for help. In time, the blind man would manage to stand, before tripping once more. The priest asked the blind man what had happened to his eyes. The blind man told the priest, he had lost both of them in battle and been abandoned. He was once a peerless hunter, but without his eyes, the world fell from prosperity to ruin. The priest told the blind man, ‘Change it back’. The blind man became angry, believing the priest to be mocking him, for he could not restore his eyes, nor could he force the world to bend for him. The priest said, ‘Change yourself. You are the foundation for your own world.' And the blind man realized how his senses had sharpened. He could hear every step, smell every scent. And so the blind man became a hunter once more."
Roen did not immediately reply. Khadai frowned, and added, "The world is what we make of it. If you change, there is no assurance that your world will change with you. But if you do not change, you may be certain that nothing will."
Roen blinked and slowly lowered her gaze, looking at nothing in particular. She stayed silent for a long time. "That is a wise parable,†she finally broke the quiet.
Khadai’s gaze upon her was steady and intent. "Do not lose faith in your people."
The paladin flicked another glance at the Au Ra, clearly surprised.
He was studying her face. "You believed in them before. You must do so again."
Roen exhaled, her expression slightly softening. "This is the same people you consider contradictory," she said wryly.
He shrugged. "No people are perfect. Mine included. We, too, started with our share of contradictions. We have long since worked past such things. It is easy to close one's eyes and believe that somethings can never change. Easy, and fatal."
The Xaela paused, his words slowing as if to carefully deliver its intent. "All meaningful actions begin with a sliver of belief. Belief can destroy armies. Belief can shake mountains and drain oceans. Belief..†he pointed towards the spires of Ishgard. “...is what can create monuments that reach the sky."
Khadai kneeled down and picked up a stone. He curled his fingers around it. "One stone creates ripples. Those ripples may become a wave. That wave may drive fish. Those fish may feed fishermen. Those fishermen may in turn care for the ocean."
Roen had fallen to silence as she listened, her brow furrowed. "You are an idealist, Khadai. I was not aware," she said softly.
"People are finite. Mortality is infallible. Death is unstoppable." He glanced back at her. "Only ideas endure time."
The paladin nodded slowly, then once more as if to herself. Her voice had notably softened when she spoke again. "For a foreigner... your ideals are not so strange."
The corner of his lip curled upward. "Then I am glad to blend in with at least one aspect, if not the others."
A rueful curl twisted her own lips. "Do take care. Such ideas only brought me misery and sorrow." Her expression did not darken despite her words. "But know you are not alone in such beliefs."
"I will continue my surveyance." He gave her a slight, almost imperceptible dip of his head, and then turned from Roen and strode away into the snowy fields.
She herself was not sure why she came to this place, an ice covered hill peppered with burial mounds and gravestones, almost forgotten on the northern side of Coerthas Western Highlands. Perhaps she sought the deserted place for its solemn isolation. Not many lived this far from Falcon’s Nest, after all, for the conditions were too harsh.
But the deceased still remained here, entombed beneath the frozen earth. After witnessing the Au Ra female left impaled in the wild, her own losses began to weigh upon her mind, and soon the paladin found herself here amongst the dead. Roen had burnt Nero’s body, and she was far from the oceanic coasts of Vylbrand where she had sent his burning remains to float out into the sea. A part of her longed for the view of the horizon where she had last seen the flickering flames die. And there was no where else that the paladin could go to revisit the memories of the those who were lost, except for this abandoned graveyard.
With Khadai’s indifferent attitude toward the female Au Ra still fresh on her mind, Roen did not know what to make of his presence here. He stood stock straight--a stance befitting one of martial discipline--his hand straight at his side as he stared at a gravestone. Roen sensed no meditation or melancholy in his pose, so she came to stand a few yalms behind him. “Khadai.â€
"You have questions," was all he rumbled back without turning. He did not seem startled by her arrival.
"I am surprised to find you here." She did not close the distance between them; she did not want to intrude. "I thought you did not care for the dead."
"I do not." His attention remained on the headstone in front of him. “But the Western continent's attachment to those who have passed… understanding that attachment is tied to my understanding of its people as a whole."
"Do your people not mourn those who have passed on?"
“We do." The answer is flat and immediate. "You would not think so if you watched us, though."
"No ceremony then?"
"No."
"But you feel their loss."
"We do not feel the need to display it."
Roen ascended the small hill to stand a few fulms away, regarding his profile. She still recalled his cold willingness to dismember the body of the impaled woman just to remove her from the stake. It was something she would have never considered. "How do you dispose of the dead then?"
"That depends on the circumstances." A passing wind tossed his green streaked ebony locks over his one exposed shoulder, but the Xaela did not seemed bothered by the prospect of frostbite. "If it is an individual, a shallow grave. If it is many, a mass grave."
"And if one of your own was found murdered in the wild?"
"A shallow grave," he said after a brief pause. "Unless the body is difficult to remove. The Khadai only bury their dead to mask the losses from our enemy. If one passes in camp, they are removed for the health of all. Otherwise, they are disposed of in the manner that is deemed to be the most efficient and least exhaustive. At times, that means the corpses are abandoned in the wild."
Only a quick exhale through her nose betrayed her chagrin. "How practical. Are there no sentimentality allowed?"
Khadai responded with a sharp glance from the corner of his eye. "You think my people emotionless and cold. Without thought or feeling. A body is merely that. A body. It is a vessel. A dead body is, too, a vessel. One that no longer carries the mind or spirit of the one who inhabited it. One does not mourn spilled water by grieving over the jug." He paused, then corrected himself. "....Should not."
“You do seem intolerant of any sentimentality." Her lips tightened. "Everyone grieves differently. Here, in this land, we remember the dead by treating their body with respect. We may burn them or bury them… there are different ways to depart with those whom you have lost."
"The dead should not burden the living," the Au Ra spat out. "They warrant no resources, and only as much attention as is required that they do not adversely affect those around them with disease and carrion. The fuel required to burn a body could warm a hundred dwellings for half a moon. It is… wasteful." There was a frown audible in his voice. "This is a land of abundance, without material hardship, if it is to be using its resources in such a manner."
His words gave her pause. "Your land must be harsh indeed, if you have to limit yourself from even a batch of firewood or a jug of oil to burn a body." She had assumed from his demeanor that he placed no value in nostalgia, reminiscence, or civilities. But his interaction with Edda, his dedication to uphold his pact with her even if it would interfere or delay his own plans, it at least spoke something about his honor. And now, she was beginning to glean an understanding of how different his life may have been before coming to Eorzea.
"I suppose we do spend resources on how we treat the dead." Her mood had calmed, and her tone dipped with melancholy. "Perhaps it is in a way, making up for the loss we feel when they are gone."
"By using resources that would be better spent improving the lives of the living?" He cocked his head at her. "Your people have odd priorities. If a body is to be burned, it is for the sake of keeping the environment clean. Otherwise, to dispose of it with fire is as pointless a gesture as dressing the body, or attempting to feed it."
"....do your people do that, as well?" he added after a pause. He sounded half mocking and half serious.
"Do not mock the culture you do not know." The frown that rose was immediate and her words came quick and clipped.
The Xaela turned his head back to the headstone in front of him. "I was told of the Western continent's practices before I arrived. I still understand very little of it. You are a people of contradictions."
It was after a long pause that he spoke again. "...I would ask a question."
Roen found her ire fading as quickly as it rose. She had not come here to argue of all things. "Ask."
Khadai pointed to the faded headstone. Where there once might have been artistic calligraphy engraved into the stone, wind and time had worn away the grooves and cuts into an illegible scrawl. "There was writing there. Do you know what it says?"
She scanned the faded markings on the stone and shook her head. "Nay. But it oft holds a message for one who had passed. Along with their name, perhaps the length of their life."
"But it says none of that now. It is a simple engraving. It does not wear easily, and when it does it is simple to maintain." He slightly turned, sweeping his arms to the other headstones around them. "These are similar."
"If your people possess such respect for the dead, why are none who lay here remembered? Their names lost. Their purposes unfulfilled. To clean the headstone… it is a trivial matter."
Roen knew that his words held no fallacy. This place had been forgotten and abandoned to the unmerciful climate. "The headstones, the graves, the burial. They are all symbols of ceremony. It allows for others to surrender to their grief during the process." Her voice quieted. "Then as their sorrow passes... so do the care of the stones, I suppose." Would she forget her own losses in time? Was that not why she had come to Coerthas? To forcibly forget?
"When the loss is raw and fresh, we all need..." Roen paused, searching for the right word. "...We all need ways to cope."
"Their causes are abandoned. Their ideals forgotten. What made them people are left behind, to litter the past like these stone markers litter this hill." Khadai shook his head. “Life is meant for the living. That is what we believe."
His voice remained stern but without reproach. "We do not waste platitudes on the dead. If those who have passed have earned our respect, we carry on their work. Adopt their ideas. The dead care not for material comforts or verbal expression. To waste moments of our lives giving them what they do not want nor need… that is disrespectful." The Au Ra shrugged. "So it goes."
"Sometimes it is easier said than done," Roen murmured.
"You burn your bodies here. I have seen the cold areas of your city. 'The Brume'. Why is the firewood not distributed there, instead of being used to dispose of a body?" He gave her a sidelong glance. "The effort to bury, why is that not used to reconstruct? To ignore the living for the dead… I do not expect I will ever understand such a sentiment."
The paladin felt her chest sink a little. "The Brume needs much. I... I cannot argue that I too would like to see more resources given to those who are in need. I do not know if you have seen The Pillars. The wealth that is bountiful there. There is a disparity in our society that exists despite logic."
"I do not understand. Your people possess resources. Wisdom. Knowledge. This much is evident. Triumphs in architecture. Wealth. Abundance. And yet there are those who are lacking. Those who are sick, and lost. Those who are frightened, hopeless." He shook his head. "This is why I call your people… contradictions."
He gestured to the headstone again. "You respect the bodies of the dead, but not why they died, or what causes they carried in life. To be such a people of paradox. I cannot fathom such an existence.â€
Her frown only deepened. "Not all causes are abandoned. They are just..." Roen had to pause, swallowing the tightness she felt in her throat. "To try and bring equality to all, to try and end the suffering of all who are in need... it is... a dream."
"There is greed. Avarice. Pride. All these things are also abundant in our society. Those who have comforts do not want to lose them. Those who lack them, are desperate to do anything to take what they can."
"Your people are cynical," he observed. "They have lost the reason and drive both to work towards something better."
"Someone once said... cynics are disappointed idealists." Her words did not sound like her own. "There are people who try to work for something better. To help whoever they can. Some even resort to radical means to try and achieve those ends."
The paladin dipped her head. "I..." She paused. "It... oft does not end well."
Khadai did not answer her immediately, he seemed lost in his own thoughts. "You do not trust the civilization you identify with," he said after a long silence.
Roen’s head hung her head low, her auburn forelocks falling before her eyes. They swayed when she shook her head. "I tried," she quietly confessed. "I… we... believed that we could change things for the better. I have only ruination and deaths to show for it."
Her frown turned into a scowl. "The world does not want to change. Those who know do not care. And those who care do not know."
Khadai glanced at her, a rare expression of sympathy on his face. "There is a parable about such a thing." He shifted his stance, eyes strangely thoughtful. "A priest came upon a blind man who stumbled amid a forest. The blind man would trip and fall, and call for help. In time, the blind man would manage to stand, before tripping once more. The priest asked the blind man what had happened to his eyes. The blind man told the priest, he had lost both of them in battle and been abandoned. He was once a peerless hunter, but without his eyes, the world fell from prosperity to ruin. The priest told the blind man, ‘Change it back’. The blind man became angry, believing the priest to be mocking him, for he could not restore his eyes, nor could he force the world to bend for him. The priest said, ‘Change yourself. You are the foundation for your own world.' And the blind man realized how his senses had sharpened. He could hear every step, smell every scent. And so the blind man became a hunter once more."
Roen did not immediately reply. Khadai frowned, and added, "The world is what we make of it. If you change, there is no assurance that your world will change with you. But if you do not change, you may be certain that nothing will."
Roen blinked and slowly lowered her gaze, looking at nothing in particular. She stayed silent for a long time. "That is a wise parable,†she finally broke the quiet.
Khadai’s gaze upon her was steady and intent. "Do not lose faith in your people."
The paladin flicked another glance at the Au Ra, clearly surprised.
He was studying her face. "You believed in them before. You must do so again."
Roen exhaled, her expression slightly softening. "This is the same people you consider contradictory," she said wryly.
He shrugged. "No people are perfect. Mine included. We, too, started with our share of contradictions. We have long since worked past such things. It is easy to close one's eyes and believe that somethings can never change. Easy, and fatal."
The Xaela paused, his words slowing as if to carefully deliver its intent. "All meaningful actions begin with a sliver of belief. Belief can destroy armies. Belief can shake mountains and drain oceans. Belief..†he pointed towards the spires of Ishgard. “...is what can create monuments that reach the sky."
Khadai kneeled down and picked up a stone. He curled his fingers around it. "One stone creates ripples. Those ripples may become a wave. That wave may drive fish. Those fish may feed fishermen. Those fishermen may in turn care for the ocean."
Roen had fallen to silence as she listened, her brow furrowed. "You are an idealist, Khadai. I was not aware," she said softly.
"People are finite. Mortality is infallible. Death is unstoppable." He glanced back at her. "Only ideas endure time."
The paladin nodded slowly, then once more as if to herself. Her voice had notably softened when she spoke again. "For a foreigner... your ideals are not so strange."
The corner of his lip curled upward. "Then I am glad to blend in with at least one aspect, if not the others."
A rueful curl twisted her own lips. "Do take care. Such ideas only brought me misery and sorrow." Her expression did not darken despite her words. "But know you are not alone in such beliefs."
"I will continue my surveyance." He gave her a slight, almost imperceptible dip of his head, and then turned from Roen and strode away into the snowy fields.
