[Completed Journal] Blonde Moments (Lilithium Altair)

[Delilah Scythewood]

BANG

 

Adjust, reload, aim-

BANGBANGBANG

 

The feel of the gun was one that brought her comfort in the last few moons. She'd practice her aim and check her reload times to shorten them by seconds as much as possible until the movements became like breathing. Fluid and natural though she wasn't to a point where she could toss her weaponry around with fancy tricks and movements of her wrist.

 

The target in front of Lili was littered with holes, many of which were on the torso and head. It was better then before where she was lucky if she got a shot or two on any part of a practice dummy. Now she landed her shots more then she missed. Practice makes perfect and all that chocobo shite.

 

Adjusting the safety features and ensuring the gun was in a safe position before she plopped down on the grass to admire her handiwork. While perhaps not the finest thing she ever created (one of which was taking her mid morning nap), it still left a surge of pride through her belly that she was improving.

 

Finding productive things to do had been the best way to keep her mind occupied. When things were quiet and slow, she had too much time to think. To remember and to agonize over. A grimace formed as she ran her hands through her hair. Their wedding anniversary had come and went just a short time prior, leaving her in a state of melancholy great enough to keep her locked in her room for more then a few days. Khavan and Sara helped with the children, no questions asked.

 

Bless them both.

 

With a grunt, she rose back up again and picked up her gun. Busy. Yes. She had to keep busy. The less she thought about things, the easier it was to cope. In fact...

 

Near where she had been sitting were a few letters. Mostly trivial things like business reports, but four were from admirers that sent candies and lilies (the implied cleverness received a deadpan look from the blonde) with implied desire to see her some time. People who once dropped off the face of Eorzea now suddenly paid her attention with Locke's ashes scattered to the winds.

 

When the first token of affection had arrived, it only made her upset and angry. Shortly afterwards a mechanic she had hired to look over some airship repairs of her vessels in Ishgard tried to ask her out to dinner. Needless to say, she never saw nor spoke to the Highlander after that and he made no efforts to pursue. The fact she had to bluntly tell him she was recently widowed for him to leave her be still left a bad taste in her mouth. The other letters weren't much different.

 

Some pretended to care, to feel for her pain, expressing a outstretched hand to be her rock and shoulder to cry on. Flashed her sympathetic smiles as they tried to pull her close for a hug that was a little too tight. A little too long. Implying things that were so small but flashed like beacons before her eyes.

 

Kyren could try to shield her from it. He'd made plenty of offers to personally handle anyone coming to her door. Khavan and even his husband Luxore (who was usually frosty on a good day and quiet when in tow) made offers as well to screen her mail before she received it.

 

But it didn't stop the knowledge that it was happening. It didn't stop the anger she felt boiling in her gut when her aspiring suitors would smile and coo at Ellie like they actually gave a shite. When they'd wink at Sara to get her to be more comfortable when all that did was make her nervous. When they'd tried to play with Mikh'a or Ado and the boys would look at them with tilted heads and innocent confusion as to who these strangers were and why they were trying so hard.

 

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG-

 

It was over before she realized what had happened. There was a myriad of holes covering the letters she had left on the ground. The paper was smoking and singed while the wax seals had melted or seeped together until it was simply a mess of paper. The gun was in her hand and she hadn't otherwise moved. Once it registered, she dropped the weapon to the ground and quickly took some calming breaths.

 

When she looked down at her hands, they were shaking.

[Delilah Scythewood]

There.

 

She had finally found it.

 

Lili stared over the map she just recently purchased from a collector in Ishgard. She had her chin resting on her fist while her eyes were fixated on the worn and scrawled writing. While the basic framework of the map was a standard map of Coerthas and some of the surrounding lands pre-Calamity, there were many custom notes scrawled in various places.

 

Lord Frederick once told her he'd help her get a hold of this map. But after everything, it was no longer an option. So she looked into other options...and came up lucky.

 

Boneweed was written over a point to the northeast of Ishgard towards a range of mountains below the Sea of Clouds. A mostly desolate land that was deemed uninhabitable. Bahamut's Calamity wracked that particular section of land with near nonstop snow storms and flash freezes that killed anything that was foolish enough to try and take roots there.

 

Though the map was a few hundred years old, it was the best lead she had.

 

Without this, there would be nothing else.

 

Without this, there was no saving Sara.

[Delilah Scythewood]

There was fear.

 

She wasn't ashamed of it. She wasn't able to lie about it without it being boldfaced and easily deducted from her expression be it a half-hearted smile or a grimace that slipped past her defenses. Was she right? Was she simply afraid? Perhaps so. Perhaps she was right. The fear was deeply rooted, set within her spirit and her bones that made breathing difficult when she was alone in the dark. 

 

It was the kind of fear that you can find no words for. It doesn't have logic or even a sound emotion as a base. It merely sits there, when stirred it provides the body a fresh batch of tremors and anxieties that are best saved for privacy then to overtake her in the daylight on the street.

 

The catalyst was so small, too. A compliment. That's all it took! A compliment about Elonwea and her eyes, the infant busily sucking on the pom-pom of her stuffed moogle without a care before the acquaintance took their leave. There was nothing, at first, for pride at how beautiful her daughter was growing. How bright eyed and strong she became each day. Those eyes unlike her own, a little darker and more like-

 

Moments later came the fear.

 

With the fear came the tightening of her chest.

 

A sudden shortness of breath, sweat forming and gliding down her temples. Pupils dilating and hands feeling clammy like she was experiencing a chill. Each odd symptom overtook her until she was drowning in it while sitting on that bench without a word. The company she kept had reached over for her knee to give it a squeeze, seeking to snap her from it.

 

"Lili?" The feminine voice besides her piped up with hesitance, concern.

 

Ellie followed shortly afterwards with a croon. Lili had actually started to hold onto her daughter tightly enough that it caused some alarm in the infant. Loosening her hold and gazing down at the cherubic cheeks and tufts of blonde, the seasoned mother managed a weak smile. Babbling, the infant grabbed a fistful of her hair while Lili bowed her head so more strands would slip past her shoulders and into her daughter's reach.

 

She had to be strong. She had to keep her head high. This was going to end well. They weren't going to lose her and she wasn't going to lose them. 

 

Ellie squealed with delight, stuffing some of her mother's ends into her mouth like a game. Despite knowing she'd need to wash her hair again today, a breathless chuckle arouse and kissing were reigned on a face of innocence. 

 

The arm of her friend wrapped around her shoulders and squeezed, saying nothing and Lili offering no explanation in return. They sat like that on the bench of Mor Dhona, listening to the passing adventurers with a infant's cooing calming them both.

 

Her trek to Coerthas was soon. Her family couldn't afford to suffer any more losses this year.

[Delilah Scythewood]

Special thanks to Excen (Kyren Yun) for writing this and surprising me with it this morning! I love getting writing <3 Mwahmwah

 

 

---

 

It was the dead of night. An oppressive silence hung in the air that not a spirit dared stir. Not the chocobos, not the fireflies, not even the wind. Even the moon had retreated behind Eorzea to hide from the sun's light. Menphina's blessing would not be upon anyone this night.

 

The mists swirled around Kyren as he made his way up the stairs of white-stone to the Altair household. As he reached the front gate, his blue eyes lifted to the roof of the large house. The hawk that perched on his shoulder followed his gaze, and a moment later flew up in a wide arc, landing gracefully on top of the weather vane, its head quickly turning this way and that as it surveyed the Mists.

 

Key in lock, turn, click. A moment later the door closed soundlessly as the cloaked Au Ra passed through like a wraith.

 

He was greeted on the main floor by flickering candlelight. Wax had begun dripping down onto the dining table in small globs as the flame burned its life away. Asleep on one of the nearby couches was Luxore. Kyren had only met the man once before, but he was pleasant enough, with a quick wit that complimented against his husband's more stoic nature...

 

"Ahhh, and so the latest suitor arrives. I see you eventually deigned to grace us with your presence. Our family is so honored." 

 

Khavan Amadeus Nightwing slowly stood from his chair by the window, up to his full height of six fulms, eight ilms. Almost as tall as Kyren. Almost. His eyes were bloodshot and haggard... sleepless. But Kyren recognized that look behind them. That pent-up frustration, the anger that comes from being helpless and unable to do anything. In that, if nothing else, they were kin.

 

Kyren stared at Lilithium's eldest silently for a long moment before finally turning around opening the front door again, passing back through it and into the mists outside. A moment later, Khavan followed, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

"Do you really think you belong here, Au Ra?" The highlander growled as Kyren turned to face him. "You're nothing, do you understand? A passing fancy. A parasite that somehow managed to latch onto my mother while she was grieving for her late husband, Thal rest his soul. And since she can't seem to see that..."

 

Kyren simply stood there, his glowing eyes on the man. He knew Khavan was only in pain, and that he needed to take his frustration out on something. Even so, the words hit their mark. As did the man's fist.

 

Kyren staggered to the side as the weight of Khavan's fist almost sent him down to a knee, and could immediately taste blood in his mouth. The motherfucker was built like a behemoth, with fists that carried the strength of Ala Mhigo in them. But more than that, they carried the weight of a son who cared for his mother. And a small part of Kyren envied that. 

 

Slowly, he stood back to his full height before the next punch took him in the gut, doubling the Au Ra over as he worked to breathe. The fist against his back finally sent him down to his knees, and the uppercut to his chin lifted him off the ground, sending him falling onto his back as he thudded against the grass.

 

"Where were you, huh? Where were you when she got it into her head to go off on her own?"

 

Kyren slowly began to push himself back to his feet, getting to his knees before another fist sent him sprawling back against the ground. Khavan fell to his knees over Kyren's body, holding him down.

 

"Locke would have been there. C'kayah would have been there. Fuck, even Ghislan would have been there. So where in the NINE HELLS were you?"

 

Another punch to the face. And another. And another. For a good ten minutes this continued, until Kyren was bleeding from the mouth and from one of his eyes. Until Khavan's fists were torn and bloodied from hitting the Au Ra's scales over and over. Until he was too tired to raise his arms any longer.

 

Khavan finally got back to his feet, and Kyren soon followed, slowly pushing himself to his knees before standing. For a moment, it seemed like the highlander had worn himself down as he turned back to the doors... paused... and then suddenly turned back again with a growl as his fist swung forward. But the attack was stopped dead in its tracks as Kyren caught his fist in his hand, holding it firmly in place. He met the man's eyes for a single moment before suddenly pushing forward and down. The highlander had no energy left to resist, finding the himself falling to his knees with a thud. He looked up at Kyren, and all that was left in his eyes was pain.

 

"She could have died. Do you understand that? She could have died out there, alone, with no one by her side."

 

Kyren looked down upon the grieving son for a long moment before finally lifting his hand, placing his palm gently on the man's forehead. There was a sudden, brief swirl of purple aether and Khavan suddenly began to slump over, but was quickly caught by the Au Ra before he could hit the ground. 

 

He sighed, looking down at the man. Hopefully now he could get some sleep, even after the spell wore off. With a painful groan, he lifted the large man up and slung him over his shoulder as he carried him quietly back inside.

 

- - -

 

He very carefully lay Khavan down on the couch next to his husband, resting his head against Luxore's shoulder before turning and heading for the stairs.

 

"Thank you."

 

Kyren turned, looking back at the two. Khavan was still passed out cold, and Luxore was asleep as well... save for the small smile on the man's lips. Kyren stared silently for a moment longer before giving a single nod. He then turned back and headed down the stairs.

 

- - -

 

He could feel his right eye already swelling shut, and his arm smeared with blood as he wiped it across his busted lip. He would need to see a healer the next day, but that's hardly what he was worried about right now. Coming down the stairs, he made his way down the small hallway before spotting Sara asleep in a ball on the couch in the small den, a tiny fire still burning in the fireplace.

 

Poor girl, she probably felt worse than Khavan. He quietly walked over to where she slept, taking the blanket that had fallen off her and covering her back up, being careful not to wake her. He knew his appearance frightened her more than most people. Not that he could blame her, he practically looked like a voidsent. And with what had happened to her sister...

 

He sighed, shaking his head as he moved back to the hall, opening one of the side doors quietly as he looked in on the children. Adokenai Rinannis Altair. Mikh'a Rinannis. Elonwea Rinannis... Ellie. Kyren hung in the doorway for a moment as he looked upon Lili's youngest ones. Khavan's words echoed in his head. Was this really a place for him? This was her family. These were her children, not his. They had roots. A shared name. They were there for each other when anything happened to any one of them. They were family.

 

And Kyren? His only family had sold him into slavery. He was the heir of nothing. The prince of a forgotten clan. The failed guardian of a dead princess. He had no roots. He had no legacy. All he had now was the power to destroy... and he had lost his appetite for destruction. 

 

He closed the door to the nursery with a quiet click.

 

- - -

 

He stood in front of her door now, staring down at the handle. He had been trying to distract himself, trying not to face it. As long as he didn't see it with his own eyes, there was still that small possibility that it hadn't actually happened. But he couldn't pretend any longer. He reached down and opened the door. 

 

The low light of the floor lamps greeted him, as well as the smell of her. She lay on the bed, asleep, blonde tresses falling gently around her face. She looked so peaceful in that moment it hurt. Careful not to wake her, he walked around to the side of her bed, his expression unreadable as he looked down at her. Slowly, he lifted the sheet that covered her, looking down to the empty space where her left leg had once been, where there was now nothing but a bandaged stump. 

 

He slowly let the sheet fall back down. Taking a seat in the chair next to the bed, he leaned forward, his fingers drumming against each other as he stared at her sleeping form. He sat there for a long while, contemplating... something as he stayed by her side. 

 

After some time, he slowly moved from the chair down to his knees next to the bed, lowering his head as he closed his eyes. It was only then, finally, that his shoulders began to shake and the tears began to fall against the white linens.

 

"I'm sorry," came the whispered words as he choked back the tears, finding his voice for the first time that night. "I'm so... so sorry..."

[Delilah Scythewood]

This is from a RP I've been doing with the ever wonderful Chip! Reposted with permission <3

 

 

---

 

“Payback? Ye dunno wot t’at truly is, girl.”

 

They were ilms from each other now, and with his good hand he reached for the damnable gun she had yet to point in his direction. Scarred digits sought to pry it out of her grasp, while storm clouds stared unblinkingly at her.

 

”I can fight back too, Asher.”

 

A grin of wicked amusement stretched across his face. “Ye mean callin’ fer yer poor mummy t’protect ye? I bet she won’t. I bet she’ll jus’ curl up an’ cry. That’s wot t’ey do when they’re facing a demon. Turn into a sniveling mess an’ their child can only watch. Take this instance for example.” He lifted the gun straight at her, the barrel visibly shaking as he struggled to elicit a sharp gaze upon her. “Wot would dearest mother do at this moment, mmm? Beg fer her own life? Jump in front of t’bullet? Attack the one ‘olding t’bloody thing?” He paused, and that unkind smile only widened. “Or would it be ye? T’ child t’at fights back? Maybe ye got sum balls after all.”

 

With a sudden movement that almost threw him off balance, the rogue hurled the gun through the open window with a furious snarl. His voice was a curious mixture between a catlike growl and a man’s throaty roar. Anger surged in the stormy waters that glared back at her, and with the final step taken his good hand reached forward to grab her arm tightly. He sought to curl fingers unkindly around her wrist and thrust his face close to hers. Had it not been his other arm was broken, her other wrist would have mostly likely been grabbed as well. “Do ye really want t’test that theory? Do ye really wanna see when I’m mad? Do ye?!”

 

Sara hadn't ever seen him this angry. Never seen him act out in such a way while being so volatile and riled. Though he reached for the gun, she did struggle with it. But his wicked grin made her heart sputter unpleasantly. Not in a way that made her fluster and peek up at him with her cheeks warmed, but in such a manner that she couldn't shy away from him further if she tried. Her hips were back against the counter, her side against the window she had tossed the water on him out of.

 

Though her anger did drive her, it did nothing to refute the truths of her naturally frail body. Her eyes narrowed and she let out a grunt through gritted teeth as the gun was finally wrenched from her and tossed out the window. It clanged against the side of the house next door, his hand soon coming across her wrist. Spitting and spewing anger at her with their bodies pressed and the reek of vomit, alcohol, and body odor.

 

A stub on the bed, bandaged and covered in blood. Where once was a smooth, shapely leg was nothingness.

 

Her pupils dilated, his growls and insults still ringing in her ears.

Soft sobs as the phantom pangs kept her up at night, trying to muffle her sobs into the pillows. Trying not to wake her children.

 

"You..."

 

"I'm so sorry Sara..."

 

"You...!"

 

"It didn't work, darling. The boneweed didn't work."

 

"Don't you dare speak of her like that to me."

 

With her free hand, no longer fearing for her safety even though he could very easily hurt her, it rose up to slap him. Hard. Right across his cheek while her eyes brimmed with angry tears as they flashed darker with her memories that swam in her head. Of the kindly, drawn features hallowed with pain and agony as she was restricted to bed rest...

 

Asher was making her say red. The slap felt good, even if she would regret it later. Even if he abused her then and there. She'd never regret slapping him. Not this time.

 

He knew immediately he had struck a nerve. The fierceness in her eyes betrayed such, long before the growing fury surged through a voice devoid of even a hint of stutter. It was clear, how much she cared about her mother, and amidst the drunken anger that had become him, a sweet spark of jealousy curled around his heart.

 

Smack!

 

Greasy strands draped over his face, and water dripped silently on the ground from his sodden clothes and hair. For a brief moment he simply became immobile, visibly stunned by the unexpected display of retaliation Sara performed. Multiple nerves had been struck it seemed, judging from the furious tides that flowed from her eyes. Asher carefully released her wrist, trembling with barely suppressed fury… and lunged at her. Stormclouds billowed with proverbial thunder as a bestial snarl exploded from his mouth and his arm moved to strike her across the face. A powerful backhand blow in which he’d seen many times used on others, including himself.

 

Air tickled the space between his hand and her cheek, where time suddenly froze. His good hand was quickly withdrawn in a sharp movement, as if he’d been struck again, and realization gradually trickled through the anger that boiled through his mixed blood. An unsteady step back was taken, Asher’s face a twisted mixture of frustration and shock behind heavy furrowed brows. What had he—

 

Wham!

 

Unable to hold back regardless, his fist collided with the wall behind him and agony laced up his limb. Not a mark appeared on the surface, but the skin of his knuckles split open and pain flooded through his system. A sharp reminder of what would have collided into Sara. Cream-furred spires pressed painfully against the sides of his shaved head, and glittering oceanic orbs glared at the wall. In and out, his chest heaved with slow and angry breaths and his nostrils flared as he struggled to contain the alcohol-induced rage that continued to flow relentlessly through his system. His good arm remained pressed against the wall, knuckles firmly pressed, yet still it trembled.

 

“I...”

 

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t stand to see that tear-stained visage he’d seen far too many times. It’s not yer fault. A constant reminder of past tribulations, the halfbreed leant heavily against the wall and pressed his head against the stalwart surface, bowed with a sudden violent and heavy pang of regret.

 

Asher knew what he’d almost done, and it sickened him. For but a brief moment, he’d almost become exactly like him. A tremor coursed through taut shoulders and a ragged hiss! shot through gritted teeth as he wrestled with an internal demon. Anger continued its despicable advancement through his system, a tempting croon that he could not silence. Thud! His fist collided with the wall again, and another breath was sharply inhaled in response to something other than the fresh wave of agony. Tasting something dreadfully close to emotion, the halfbreed swept back greasy bangs with the back of his bleeding hand and slowly stumbled for the stairs. Anywhere was suddenly better than here beside Sara. He needed to get away from her. He was unsafe like this. A shower? Great. Maybe it would clear his head.

 

“…fine.”

 

And with that, the halfbreed stumbled drunkenly for the stairs, his vision blurring as another spell of dizziness overcame him, coupled by the cold pit of disgust that settled within an abused gut. Crimson dripped from his hand, but he cared little enough to even inspect it. His cheek stung, somehow far more painful than the split knuckles of his hand.

 

This time, he’d really fucked up.

[Delilah Scythewood]

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Kyren thought he knew the signs of the winds of change. They were supposed to be heralded with the sound of guns and cries of anguish. The smell of smoke and fear. War. The betrayal of those closest to you. And yet here he stood, being swept up in those winds once again.

 

Lilithium Altair had taken her last breath, and as Kyren stood over her lifeless body, he could feel his entire world shatter around him.

 

Kyren never spoke much of the events in the following days.... mainly because he didn't remember much of the next few days. He drowned himself in the spirits of local taverns, and when that wasn't enough he turned to more recreational means. Somnus, milkweed, blackroot rose. Anything he could get his hands on to try and make the pain stop.

 

It was never enough.

 

He could vaguely remember trying to return to Lili's house one night. A broken arm, fourteen bone fractures, a broken nose, and multiple kicks to his stomach and face served as Khavan's reminder that he was no longer welcome anywhere near their home.

 

And so he was pushed back into his downward spiral. More drinks. More drugs. His attention eventually turned to the whores and tavern wenches that littered the streets at all hours of the day.

 

It was never enough. 

 

- - -

 

The night before Lili's funeral finally arrived. Her body had been taken to the Thaumaturge's Guild in Ul'dah for her funeral rites and finally her cremation. Kyren entered the guild as nothing more than a shadow, slipping through one of the windows before landing silently on the stone floor. His blood may have had more toxins than a Malboro at that point, but the training beaten into him in Doma was second nature after so many years of practice. 

 

He made his way through the empty guild, taking a side passage off of the main room and descending down into the lower quarters where the bodies were prepared for the rites. It wasn't a difficult thing to track her down; the closer he was, the more the mark on the back of his hand burned against his skin.

 

He eventually found her in a small circular room, as still and as peaceful as she had looked when they had first found her in her bed. A candle on the side of the room carried the tune for the shadows that danced across her pale, smooth skin. His throat tightened as he stepped up to her side, knowing that this was the first moment they had been alone in the same room together since that day. Knowing that this was the last time he would see her. 

 

Cupping the back of her head, he slowly lifted her from the table as he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers one last time. After some time he eventually pulled away, resting his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes.

 

“If your gods have any kindness left, I hope they deliver these words to you, wherever you are. I love you, Lilithium Altair. I will always love you. Without your light, I... I don't know if I can keep being the man that I tried to be for you. But for the time we were together... thank you. Thank you.”

 

As he pulled away, he was surprised to find her cheeks stained with tears. He lifted a hand to his face. When had he started crying? He shook his head, wiping away his tears as he steeled himself for what was to come.

 

In the Xaelan culture, it was believed that all parts of the animal should be used with as little wasted as possible. Meat for strength. Fur for clothing. Bones for arrows and jewelry. It was just natural to make sure nothing went to waste.

 

At least, that's what he told himself as he pressed his fingers against her closed eyes, all while his voidmark burned like the seventh circle of hell.

---

And so ends the story of Lilithium Altair on FF14! Thanks to Kyren Yun for the writing

 The story will be continued with other characters and storylines though I'm not sure when, or if, I'll start another journal on the site for a new character. Though the thousands of views for this journal has had has been humbling.