Eyes in the Darkness (Reactions welcome)

[Ciel]

"We’re almost there.  Another two bells and we’ll be in Ul’dah, then we can offload all this rubbish."

 

A single merchant’s cart drawn by a pair of chocobos slowly made its way through Western Thanalan.  The shipping vessel had just made port at Vesper Bay a couple of bells before, and it had taken some time to move a dozen or so unmarked crates between it and the cart which would complete the delivery.  The Lalafell merchant and his wife had been met by an escort of four men on choco-back, all of them Brass Blades, but not one of them in their trademark chainmail.  All were in civilian dress.  Such was the importance of making sure the goods were delivered securely, that they took these measures to avoid drawing too much attention while on the road.

 

The merchant, a middle-aged Lalafell, reached over to his equally short bride as she leaned to his shoulder, and placed a hand on her round belly.  The purpose of this trip was two-fold, not just about the cargo crates, but about the even more precious cargo soon to be born.  He smiled as he let her doze since the city’s lights had not even come fully into view yet.

 

The cart’s escort pulled to a halt suddenly.  One of the riders had trailed a short distance behind and vanished as soon as the others had their attention turned elsewhere.  There had been no cry from the man, or his chocobo, no sounds of struggle even above the rattling of the cart and the cacaphony of running chocobo feet.  The merchant coaxed the cart to a halt as well so he wouldn’t pull too far away from his guards, and any calls the others made by linkpearl went unanswered.  Even the desert beasts had gone still.

 

How far back could they have lost him?

 

The leader of the four wheeled his chocobo around to trot back some distance and look for any sign of their comrade, but there was nothing to see in the darkness.  Nothing but three points of light, red and infernal, hovering in the open space like a trio of demonic eyes staring straight at him.  -Through- him.  The Blade felt his blood run cold and his breath hitch in his lungs at a low whisper.

 

”I will steal the light from your eyes.”

 

He felt his blood again, this time tasting it as it welled up in his throat and then down his neck.  He hadn’t felt the actual cut to his throat, nor the one which severed his spine.  He never felt the weight of his chocobo as it toppled over on top of him, a victim of the same fate.  

 

This was all still close enough, a quarter of a malm from the caravan, that the remaining Brass Blades saw the collapse and a third broke away to investigate more closely.  This one left his chocobo behind, and the frightened bird bolted immediately into the desert brush. A strangled “Kweh” rose from the shadows along with the sound of a wet splatter.  The Blade took his scimitar into hand and moved back to try and see what happened to his mount, but his first step into the brush ended with his own head landing in the lap of the merchant’s wife and covering both Lalafells in a spray of blood.

 

The woman screamed at the top of her lungs at the realization of what she just received.  The pair of chocobos leading the cart suddenly lurched forward with enough force to drop both Lalafells to the ground.  Bones snapped beneath the wheels as the merchant fell in their path.

 

The trinity of red eyes streaked closer through the darkness and the last of the dressed down Brass Blades hit the ground as his own chocobo’s head fell from its neck with the whisper and snap of something metallic slicing through feather, flesh, and bone.  There had been nothing but a lanky shadow following those eyes and moving too quickly to be clearly seen.  Even if he had, he wouldn’t live to tell about it.  The same hiss of metal sang in his ears again as a bitter, biting cold tore through him throat to navel.

 

All that remained were the Lalafells and the cart and the former were approached last.  The creature couldn’t risk either of them getting back to the cart and riding it away into town, so the chocobos had to be the first to go.  In most cases, if there were no witnesses around, he would take his time and dispatch the beasts slowly just for amusement’s sake.  One chocobo collapsed from a severed spine, and the other’s innards poured onto the ground from a fresh cut across the belly.  Without the birds to hold it up, the cart kneeled forward and caused several crates to fall out.

 

"Please,"  the merchant gasped through his injuries and stared up with pain-hazed eyes when he saw the red eyes floating toward him.  "Please, take what you want…!  Leave us alone!  Leave my wife alone…!  Our baby!  Ple— augh!"  He was silenced with one last snap of bone as a frigid, clawed hand snapped the delicate vertebrae in his neck.  The shadow crouched over the merchant as his horrified wife looked on.

 

”Run away, little mother," whispered the creature.  "Run away and don’t look back.”

 

——-

 

By morning, the merchant’s panicked, exhausted wife found her way to the Gate of the Sultana and hurriedly spilled out the details of everything that had happened. 

 

Those who went to investigate the scene would have found four Brass Blades, mostly Hyur, dead and gutted with hearts, lungs, liver, and kidneys removed.  All six chocobos had received the same treatment.  As for the merchant, there wasn’t much left of him.  The creature, who or whatever it was, stripped every scrap of meat possible from his bones.

 

The cart, itself, was empty.  Any cargo which had been aboard was long gone but a message was left behind, scrawled in blood on the interior floor boards.

 

 

Nice try, Garlond.

[Darien Cadell]

Qhora stopped mid-stride and stared as the bloodied, swollen lalafell woman tripped in through the city gates. Everyone else was staring. At least everyone who wasn't trying to help. Staring seemed like the thing to do.

 

Qhora's focus went to the panicking woman's belly. She sighed to herself, muttering under her breath something about "the world that does that to you." She waved a hand dismissively and slipped into the shadows.

 

Not much later, Qhora found herself walking down the road to Crescent Cove, fishing rod lazily balanced over one shoulder, when she came upon the scene of the incident. She stopped to watch among a small crowd that had gathered as investigators were making the first attempts to clear the scene. As the past violence became more and more clear, Qhora slowly grinned, then burst out laughing. One of the investigators, his expression pale, looked up at her, and several of her loitering partners took steps to back away from her. She shrugged, then turned to continue down the road, whistling out of tune.