Musty.
If Gogonji had to describe this fetid heap of primitive housing he was being held prisoner in with a single word, it was musty. It fit all the definitions - it smelt heavily of mold and age, mostly due to the fact that the Sylphs had likely lashed together whatever plant-life had died naturally rather than go for the actually architecturally sound choice and prepare proper planks of wood. Its style, therefore, fell under the second definition - an obsolete, outdated, antiquated yurt that wasn't even properly waterproofed; a fact that aided its fulfillment of the first definition. Finally it was dull. Horrendously dull.
Not that he could complain overly much. To avoid implicating himself overly much in his little plan of vengeance, he had presented himself as a victim in the entire incident revolving the Garlean outpost nestled deep in the Twelveswood. He had willingly given himself up to be held captive until the Twin Adders arrived to question him so he could spin his plan into action. And carrying a research journal on Black Magic - even if it wasn't actually his - would have been quite the damning evidence for what he wanted to do.
And that was to see Restless Wind dead.
It was a flame of utter hatred that had filled his being for only one other entity - the Garleans. While that blaze had cooled with the calming fact that his family had survived the razing of Doma, it still flickered with an animosity for the nation that took away his own and stood postured to take over another if the Alliance didn't stop its internal bickering and posturing. This new second flame, however, with fresh and brilliant in its ferocity as the spark that had lit it was not even a sun old.
Not even a sun ago, Restless Wind had broken away from Gogonji's plan to extradite her sister from the compound by taking an oblivious Garlean officer hostage. Not even a sun ago, she had tortured him - an act he hadn't particularly minded considering his stance on that nation - until the officer revealed that her sister had been killed and he had taken some piece of jewelry from her corpse. Not even a sun ago, the Roegadyn woman had taken all she had learned from her research and brought it to bear on the outpost. Again, removing such a blight from Eorzean soil was not something he was overly against. However, there had been collateral damage that was inexcusable.
An had been inside, seeking to silently extract the woman's sister; a decision made to keep in line with Wind's fervent desire to avoid causing undo harm to her sibling. Something that - had the man been lying just to get her to stop, as torture victims are wont to do - she had completely ignored in her little Mhach-style showboating of power. He had sought to warn his fairer half once he realized the Roegadyn's target was the ceruleum depot, but all Gogonji had heard in response before the explosion ripped through the compound was An trying to call out his name.
To his credit, Wind's accomplice had a better head on his shoulders and sought to contain the explosion as best he could. And with that, Gogonji had thought perhaps An had survived and would make her way back to the meeting point. As bells past and still no response came from the linkpearl, he grew more anxious, more irritated, more angry. For all the while Wind nagged at him that they should escape, to abandon the rest of the plan due to her own phenomenally idiotic actions. Finally, he set a deadline for her - should An not show by the next bell, there would be consequences.
She feigned ignorance, of course, in there being any issue at all. Wind touted his actions as betrayal - seeking to double-cross her after she had rendered payment in the form of her notes and her gil. She blamed him for using An in his plan, offering her freely to the effort. She completely dismissed the fact that his mate would have not been in any undue harm if Wind hadn't utterly derailed the entire plan with her little stunt. All the added difficulty and danger had been added to the situation by her alone, and thus she was culpable for her actions no matter how she tried to feebly twist the situation.
The bell past, An did not show nor make as much of a crackle of static over the linkpearl. And that was when he finally admitted to the gnawing fear in his gut. She was dead. His mate, one of the few people he felt could understand him and truly connect with him... was gone. And this arrogant, self-absorbed harpy of a woman was responsible.
His rage boiled over into a sort of eerie calm at that moment, when he finally understood what had happened - it all seemed so simple. She had murdered An, so she had to die in turn. It wouldn't be too hard, he had concealed his hand to the populace at large for moons now, so she had no idea of his capability. And she was still recovering from her massive use of personal and local aether, so she was at an added disadvantage. Plus, he had Erwin on hand to neatly remove her head from her shoulders while he kept her magic locked down - further cementing his dominance in this encounter.
However, she proved to be a far more wily opponent than he had anticipated. He had counter-spelled her initial attempts to slumber him and his cohort, had interrupted her attempt to whisk herself away magically from the meeting point. However, she had managed to bring to bear one last sleep spell that he couldn't overpower with his own arcane might, and then immediately fled into the night through means unknown to him. Regardless of the method, she had managed to escape his divine retribution...
... Yet she had let him live.
He would make sure she'd suffer for that mistake. He had failed to overcome her in such favorable conditions, so he was certain he'd have far less luck with her both rested and on the defensive. So, instead, he would wield the entirety of Eorzea as a weapon against her instead. By revealing her and her actions to the media, he would feed their fear and paranoia until they fell upon her and tore her to pieces. She could escape two men, but how easily could she elude a continent? After all, even the Garleans would learn of her actions from this, and would also seek her hide as recompense.
Just recalling what she had done burned that flame within him brighter, a roaring inferno that crashed against his inner being like a caged animal. He remembered his all-too-brief lessons with another Hellsguard with some inane name, back when he had been collecting soul crystals for his ultimately futile effort against Garlemald. This level of rage should be one's Inner Beast - from what he remembered - yet there was something more to it. Something... foreign.
He took a deep breath, seeking to calm himself though meditation even as he took in a lungful of the stink of the Sylph yurt. Wind would be served the justice she deserved, as soon as the Adders got their inept hindquarters here and he gave them her and her associate's descriptions. He didn't want the boy dead quite so much, but he would likely lead them to her. He could not be overlooked as a resource, a piece in the plan that would be that woman's downfall. And fall she would.
Reaffirming that fact as a pseudo-mantra quelled his own flame somewhat, allowing him to better isolate the coals that stoked it so. Another sense of loss, a familiar one. A soul that had lost home, family, and ultimately life to an invading force. To a tribe of vicious and efficient Seekers, whose Nunh cared not for the damage he had caused to the ancient Hellsguard.
The Warrior.
He had felt its twinge before. It resonated most with him when he was on his warpath against Garlemald, a synergy that was closer even than that of his Nymian crystal. It was what had given him the majority of the physical power and ferocity he had brought to bear in the Castrum, and its rage had continued to burn wild after he had recognized his brother... and aided in the alien puppeteering he had suffered afterward. Its rage had long cooled over the course of his bed-rest, its violent seething lost in the chaos of the other fragments whirling about in his mind.
But now, with like feelings brought to the fore again, its ire and presence had been reawakened. Perhaps even during the bells-long wait for An's return, the Warrior had been urging him forward. To take Erwin's axe in his own hands and cleave Wind in twain for so brazenly and carelessly taking the life of his mate. He had not the physical might he had leeched from the crystals before, so he had tamped that desire down - along with the fear that An was actually dead. But now the two were aligned again in a way almost forgotten.
"Warrior," he spoke within his mind, opening the door to his sanctuary from the remaining swirl of fragments. "I believe we have much to discuss..."
When the door to the yurt finally opened again, the fractured streams of light that already spilled through the shoddy construction were further augmented by the cascade from the newly unbarred portal. The shapes that coalesced just beyond were blackish and murky, though Gogonji could tell some were flying and others were on foot. As the Lalafell's violet eyes cleared under the assault of additional light, so too did theirs adjusted to the gloom. The Sylph guards, and a small retinue of Adders.
His rage still broiled and seethed, but it was far more directed now. The caged inferno had been whipped into obedience, no longer thrashing about seeking release. An furious focus that would serve well in his arsenal, though the benefits were nowhere near at the level of a truly trained Warrior. No great feats of inhuman strength, no unstoppable juggernaut of flesh. Merely a sort of... parting gift from a fragment now returned to silence.
From one kindred spirit to another.
~