Explosions. Magitek. Gunfire.
The patrol had returned too soon. The Resistance squad was supposed to lure them away while Shael and Shooey set the explosives. But the diversion did not work and the squadron of Magitek Battle Armor was marching down upon their position.
“Shooey, get out now!â€
“No! Do not set them off! We are not in the clear yet!â€
“Forget the last coordinates! Just get out!â€
Panicked cries reverberated over the pearl, more gunfire drowning out the voices. Shael remembered shouting desperately for anyone to hear. Then all went white as the ceruleum explosives were detonated, and the booming blast blew out her eardrums.
Shael sat up with a gasp, an anguished cry dying in her throat. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, and her linen shirt clung to her skin, soaked with sweat. A sharp shooting pain through her right side immediately reminded her that her arm and hand were in a sling, her index and middle finger roughly wrapped. She had not bothered to tend to them, and the pulsing ache there was a constant reminder of the broken bones and the swollen tissues beneath the cloth.
A part of her did scream in protest that it was her dominant side that was being pulled out of joint, when the armored bodyguard had her pinned against the tree. “I don't want to kill you. I want you to not steal from me. Nor the people I work for.†The Hyuran mercenary’s voice was placid. Calm even, in the wake of her pained cries. "Are you able to do that much?"
Had she been sober, she would have never agreed to go with him to the Ruby Seas. To ride on his gigantic angry bird of a mount, to be shuttled off to one of many numerous outcropping of islands scattered along the coast. In the back of her mind, even while piss poor drunk, Shael knew what she had done. Trying to steal some valuables from the Xaela herbalist at the Black Market, then luring her out to the Steppe with a lie just to intimidate her for more drugs. She had left Nabi stranded out there up on the cliffs. She was so sure that the wide-eyed herbalist would agree to her terms, if she just realized she was trapped there without her help. Even after that, Shael did not face any repercussions. She did eventually check on the Xaela’s stall, and found her returned home, almost as good as she found her.
There was a tinge of guilt at seeing her limp about with a cane, but that was not her fault. If the woman had just agreed to her terms, Shael would have delivered her safe and sound back to Kugane. It was the Xaela’s stubborn recklessness that endangered her own life.
At least, that is what Shael told herself.
She knew she should have stopped there. Let well enough be. For whatever reason, Nabi was not seeking restitution of any form from her. But Shael needed those herbs. She needed to sleep. She felt her mind going insane, seeing hallucinations, faces of people long dead, while she was awake. Nightmares that used to plague her dreams were starting to replay themselves in flashes while she walked and talked.
Shael never thought of herself as a petty thief before. She was a smuggler: someone who knew how to get ungettable things, and then transport them to unreachable places. Crimes like simple burglary and vandalism were far below her standards and code. Until it wasn’t.
She had watched and waited until the Hingans and the Xaela retired for the night. The street was usually peaceful, and Shael had become well acquainted with the Sekiseigumi’s patrol routes. It was easy enough to break into the stall unseen. But those damnable herbs were nowhere to be found. She started to just break open jars, pour out contents of boxes and bags in a frantic attempt to find what she was looking for. Frustrated and angry, she snatched up the mushrooms that she knew were at least worth thousands of gil and ran.
The mushrooms did not do what she wanted of course. Nabi had altered them somehow, it just numbed all sensation. It did nothing to give her rest; there were none of the euphoric dreams that they were supposed to bring.
A part of her knew this was likely the last straw. Shael went back to her usual table at the hostelry, and ordered way too much sake. It was after many bottles rolled around empty on the table and at her feet, that the armored bodyguard came looking for her.
She knew his name. Tserende Valqirelle. After all, she used it to send the message to Nabi about him being wounded. He was a no nonsense bodyguard who had caught her at the market, who then also came to find her at the hostelry. Was it his polite manners that made her think it was a good idea to talk to him alone? Or was it the seven bottles sake that just made her not care what his intentions were?
She started to care when he suddenly pinned her down and started to pull her joints in the most unnatural angles But even as her bones and tissues popped and bent under the pressure, the man remained cold and calm.
And when he was done, when she was left with her right arm hanging awkwardly at the elbow and the fingers, he had the gall to offer her a choice. To either die in a gutter or to crawl back out of whatever pit she was in. The very thought brought the taste of bile back up into her throat. Self-righteous and arrogant types like him made her blood boil. What did he know about loss? Or the fears that drove people to kill their own kin? Or the overwhelming anger and despair that it made her want to tear off her own skin if it would just let her bleed out into a blissful nothingness? Who was he to offer her a chance for change?
A shaking hand reached for another ceramic bottle by her bedside. But when she brought it to her lips, she found it empty. It was too small of a bottle, and useless liquor anyway. She flung it angrily to the other side of the room, the ceramic shattering at the impact.
She knew that would bring the innkeeper knocking against the door soon. She had already refused an offer to send for a healer. He might insist this time. Or he may just have her thrown out.
Â
“Soddin’ pathetic. That is the new me.†Her voice had cracked when she conceded that much. But she refused to beg. She spat on the the Hyur’s face and then he broke her arm and fingers.
Â
She buried her face into her left hand, her fingers digging into her disheveled locks. She did not answer when the knocks came to her door.
The patrol had returned too soon. The Resistance squad was supposed to lure them away while Shael and Shooey set the explosives. But the diversion did not work and the squadron of Magitek Battle Armor was marching down upon their position.
“Shooey, get out now!â€
“No! Do not set them off! We are not in the clear yet!â€
“Forget the last coordinates! Just get out!â€
Panicked cries reverberated over the pearl, more gunfire drowning out the voices. Shael remembered shouting desperately for anyone to hear. Then all went white as the ceruleum explosives were detonated, and the booming blast blew out her eardrums.
Shael sat up with a gasp, an anguished cry dying in her throat. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, and her linen shirt clung to her skin, soaked with sweat. A sharp shooting pain through her right side immediately reminded her that her arm and hand were in a sling, her index and middle finger roughly wrapped. She had not bothered to tend to them, and the pulsing ache there was a constant reminder of the broken bones and the swollen tissues beneath the cloth.
A part of her did scream in protest that it was her dominant side that was being pulled out of joint, when the armored bodyguard had her pinned against the tree. “I don't want to kill you. I want you to not steal from me. Nor the people I work for.†The Hyuran mercenary’s voice was placid. Calm even, in the wake of her pained cries. "Are you able to do that much?"
Had she been sober, she would have never agreed to go with him to the Ruby Seas. To ride on his gigantic angry bird of a mount, to be shuttled off to one of many numerous outcropping of islands scattered along the coast. In the back of her mind, even while piss poor drunk, Shael knew what she had done. Trying to steal some valuables from the Xaela herbalist at the Black Market, then luring her out to the Steppe with a lie just to intimidate her for more drugs. She had left Nabi stranded out there up on the cliffs. She was so sure that the wide-eyed herbalist would agree to her terms, if she just realized she was trapped there without her help. Even after that, Shael did not face any repercussions. She did eventually check on the Xaela’s stall, and found her returned home, almost as good as she found her.
There was a tinge of guilt at seeing her limp about with a cane, but that was not her fault. If the woman had just agreed to her terms, Shael would have delivered her safe and sound back to Kugane. It was the Xaela’s stubborn recklessness that endangered her own life.
At least, that is what Shael told herself.
She knew she should have stopped there. Let well enough be. For whatever reason, Nabi was not seeking restitution of any form from her. But Shael needed those herbs. She needed to sleep. She felt her mind going insane, seeing hallucinations, faces of people long dead, while she was awake. Nightmares that used to plague her dreams were starting to replay themselves in flashes while she walked and talked.
Shael never thought of herself as a petty thief before. She was a smuggler: someone who knew how to get ungettable things, and then transport them to unreachable places. Crimes like simple burglary and vandalism were far below her standards and code. Until it wasn’t.
She had watched and waited until the Hingans and the Xaela retired for the night. The street was usually peaceful, and Shael had become well acquainted with the Sekiseigumi’s patrol routes. It was easy enough to break into the stall unseen. But those damnable herbs were nowhere to be found. She started to just break open jars, pour out contents of boxes and bags in a frantic attempt to find what she was looking for. Frustrated and angry, she snatched up the mushrooms that she knew were at least worth thousands of gil and ran.
The mushrooms did not do what she wanted of course. Nabi had altered them somehow, it just numbed all sensation. It did nothing to give her rest; there were none of the euphoric dreams that they were supposed to bring.
A part of her knew this was likely the last straw. Shael went back to her usual table at the hostelry, and ordered way too much sake. It was after many bottles rolled around empty on the table and at her feet, that the armored bodyguard came looking for her.
She knew his name. Tserende Valqirelle. After all, she used it to send the message to Nabi about him being wounded. He was a no nonsense bodyguard who had caught her at the market, who then also came to find her at the hostelry. Was it his polite manners that made her think it was a good idea to talk to him alone? Or was it the seven bottles sake that just made her not care what his intentions were?
She started to care when he suddenly pinned her down and started to pull her joints in the most unnatural angles But even as her bones and tissues popped and bent under the pressure, the man remained cold and calm.
And when he was done, when she was left with her right arm hanging awkwardly at the elbow and the fingers, he had the gall to offer her a choice. To either die in a gutter or to crawl back out of whatever pit she was in. The very thought brought the taste of bile back up into her throat. Self-righteous and arrogant types like him made her blood boil. What did he know about loss? Or the fears that drove people to kill their own kin? Or the overwhelming anger and despair that it made her want to tear off her own skin if it would just let her bleed out into a blissful nothingness? Who was he to offer her a chance for change?
A shaking hand reached for another ceramic bottle by her bedside. But when she brought it to her lips, she found it empty. It was too small of a bottle, and useless liquor anyway. She flung it angrily to the other side of the room, the ceramic shattering at the impact.
She knew that would bring the innkeeper knocking against the door soon. She had already refused an offer to send for a healer. He might insist this time. Or he may just have her thrown out.
Â
“Soddin’ pathetic. That is the new me.†Her voice had cracked when she conceded that much. But she refused to beg. She spat on the the Hyur’s face and then he broke her arm and fingers.
Â
She buried her face into her left hand, her fingers digging into her disheveled locks. She did not answer when the knocks came to her door.
