Voidbound: A Collection of Short Stories -- [OOC Welcome!]

[chaoticsleepy]

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[ . . Voidbound:  A Collection of Short Stories . . ]

 

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[align=center]X H E J A   R A J H E R A[/align]

 

[align=left]     I 've decided to give up on the journal idea for Xheja and work on a collection of short stories for her instead. Given the rework of her character, it just makes a lot more sense to write out happenings in story form to get a much more complete recounting of events. (And to help me keep track of things!)

     Any representation of other people's characters as far as Xheja's reflections on them are purely IC and as such, not at all reflective of my OOC feelings or opinions. I say this now because of the shift in personality she has undergone can see her being rather rude, manipulative, and cold when it comes to how she views others. So if she views your character negatively or in a very manipulative fashion, please don't think the feeling is shared by myself!

 

     As always, OOC commentary is more than welcome! I encourage it, actually. I like the feedback and interactivity! Also, please note that these short stories are canon for her and as such, some of the events that are written about could be used ICly. However, please use your best judgment on what could feasibly be in-character knowledge, and please ask me prior if you want to use something that may be iffy!  ♥

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[chaoticsleepy]

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[ . . The Collector:  Part One . . ][/align]

 

 

[align=center]C O E R T H A S[/align]

 

[align=left]     A zeyma's fading light set the snow-covered ledges and mounds alight with a pearlescent sheen, glittering and reflecting the dark, deep reds and purples of the evening sky lording over the remote Coerthan village. Xheja studied the array of colors and shades with a vague, distant interest through the frosted window pane, the sight alone enough to send a sudden shiver down her spine. A softly crackling hearth radiated warmth not more than ten fulm away in the cottage, but even still, the Keeper could feel the chill settling into her bones. 

     There was just something about this place that was oppressingly cold deep down to its core, the wet snow and piercing winds aside. Thick wools and furs could ward off the frostbite and hypothermia from the weather. Yet there was nothing to deter the bone-chilling coolness that came from the Ishgardian people themselves. 

     The largely Elezen and Hyur population in the small village of Drakesbane had 'warmly welcomed' her just shy of two months prior with the stern warning of what would become of her should she cause problems for them. The leader of the small township had personally marched her to the main hall to show her the mounted head of the terrible drake whose demise had served as the village's namesake, to demonstrate to her 'the fate of those who threaten Ishgard and draw the Fury's ire.' She had accepted the warning with a blank nod, letting her nerves stay hidden underneath the surface as to not expose weakness,  but the worries were definitely there, resting heavy in the pit of her stomach.

     A movement from the corner of the cottage pulled Xheja's attention away from the window and back towards the tall Elezen man across the room as he moved from one thing to the next, scratching out quick notes with a ragged quill one moment and then measuring out and mixing various reagents into a small bowl the next. As he worked, he muttered softly to himself, occasionally stopping long enough to thoughtfully tug at the graying tuft of wiry hair covering his chin. The Keeper woman smiled fondly as she watched in silence.

     Marcelloix Thieroux occupied a position of high regard in Drakesbane, and in this region of Coerthas at large. At one point in time, he had served as a Mage Captain in the guard of a prominent Ishgardian house. Which house it was, Xheja was still unsure. He had mentioned it to her at some point or another, surely, but with many Elezen names, her miqo'te tongue struggled to pronounce it, much less commit it to memory.

     During his celebrated career, the man had protected his people against the Dravanian horde as any good Ishgardian knight would. Yet his true claim to fame laid elsewhere, in his vast and valuable knowledge of the Voidsent. As a veteran practitioner of thaumaturgy, Marcelloix possessed not only a theoretical, but also a practical knowledge of the Void and its myriad creatures. Their region in particular struggled with the presence of the peculiar monsters just as surely as they warred with the dragons, and so a man with not only knowledge about their inner workings but with the ability to effectively and efficiently dispatch them had been worth his weight in gil coins to the Ishgardian house.

     Yet with age, the man had chosen to retire from his post, taking up residence in the small village to live out the rest of his days practicing his art and conducting his studies in relative peace. Drakesbane had provided Marcelloix a quiet atmosphere for his research, and the village's citizens eagerly welcomed someone who had proven himself skilled enough to have bestowed upon him one of the original Stardust Rods forged by Shatotto herself - a relic that his Lord had went to great pains to acquire for him as a gift for his leal service. 

     When Xheja had first appeared in the village to seek him out, the man had been suspicious as the rest. Though he had received correspondence from an associate in the Arrzaneth Ossuary speaking of her desire to study the Void under him, her revelation of her true intentions had alarmed him somewhat. Though the Keeper woman did possess a desire to learn about the Void, it was the need to discover more about her condition - the taint that stained her aether, as Lren had once told her - that claimed her highest priority. [/align]

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     Only with much begging did the man seem to reluctantly entertain her request, but not before issuing her a task to prove her dedication and willpower. He had given her a name and a location of another mage living in a keep of his own not too far away. The man had told her to tell him what she wished to learn, and to listen carefully to what he had to say. Only then, he had told her, would he teach her all he knew about the Void.

 

     At once, she had departed, eager to finally have answers. It did not take long for her to find the keep, and a rather familiar face that had beaten her there, though the man had markedly changed from her memories of him. The beast of a man, as she had learned, had been employed by a nearby town to clear the keep of the mage and his retainers after a number of kidnappings had taken place at his hand.

 

     When all was said and done, the woman did not even have much of a chance to speak to the insane mage before he had been cut down by the bloodthirsty Sunseeker. Discouraged by the outcome, she had returned to Marcelloix empty-handed, certain he would turn her away for her apparent failure to secure the knowledge she had been tasked with retrieving. Yet the Elezen man had actually been quite surprised to find her at his doorstep, no worse for wear and not utterly corrupted. It had been a test, to judge whether or not she would give in to the Void's corruption as the slain madman had, and she had passed. At least, she had passed the test as far as the Elezen man was concerned. The Keeper chose to keep J'suloh's involvement in the matter to herself.

     Afterwards, the two months had passed in an overwhelming blur. She had sorely underestimated how much there was to know about the Void, and the kind of knowledge and ability she needed to possess in order to wrest it - and thereby, herself - under her complete control. It was tiring and frustrating work, and more often than not, the woman found herself stuck at some barrier or another. There were tomes upon tomes that she needed to read, endless rituals to learn.. Yet there was one thing in particular that evaded her, eventually bringing all progress to a standstill:  a name.

     "The key to truly controlling a creature of the Void is knowledge. Yet if we do not even know what this creature is, the rest of our work is for naught," Marcelloix had finally told her one afternoon after yet another failed attempt at calling forth the creature and learning its identity. "Whatever creature has buried its claws into your aether, it is strong and it is stubborn, and it is unlike any case I have ever seen." 

     No matter how hard they had tugged at it, they were met with nothing but dead weight. It was as if the creature was so firmly rooted in the Void that it was literally impossible to force its materialization into the physical realm. Even the highly knowledgeable mage who had earned his renown by forcing particularly unruly Voidsent into submission seemingly could not get a handle upon the creature.

     Each day had wore on Xheja more than the last, bringing her back to the same state of worry and depression that had set upon her before she had even left Ul'dah. The flicker of hope she had felt when she had set out for Coerthas was waning, losing its desperate fight against the sharp, cold winds and the darkness that seemed to be all but closing in on her. Was it hopeless? Was there nothing that could be done? The questions and doubts haunted her even as she slept, until she could no longer rest through the night and dark circles began to form under her lids.

     When the Keeper woman had almost reached the end of her hope, almost resolving to surrender and depart from Drakesbane immediately, Marcelloix had returned to her with one last method by which they might learn what demon haunted her. The older man was obviously delighted at himself as he spoke of his idea to her, pale blue-grey eyes alight with the wild excitement she had seen in the eyes of many scholars and mages at the precipice of a new discovery. It was a look that she was intimately familiar with, having worn it herself on a handful of occasions.

 

     "If the beast is too stubborn or simply unable to be summoned here, then there is but two options left to us. We can either surrender the pursuit and continue, grasping blindly and unknowingly for information we're like to never find on our own. But the other option.. We abandon the thought of summoning, and instead take you to the creature." Xheja could still remember clearly the grin that took his lips, even as he began to shuffle through piles of papers of hastily and sloppily scribbled notes. Clearly, he had put much thought into this. Yet her hesitation had been palpable, weighing in the pit of her stomach like a stone.

 

     "You're saying that there is a way for me to go.. to the Void?" She began, tone questioning. "Forgive me for my doubts, but is it not the case that those whose aether is absorbed into the Void tend to remain there? Permanently?"

     His grin widened, as if he had been waiting for her to ask that one question the whole time. "You've claimed before that your aether is bound to this plane of existence, have you not? That when you lost your footing at Witchdrop some years ago and fell, your aether returned to your body and resurrected you some time later?" As the look of dawning revelation appeared on her face, he nodded. "Given the manner in which the Void taint is so intricately entwined with your aether, it is my belief that in such a case, the Void is where your aether retreats in the interim before it is called back to the vessel to which it is inexorably bound - your own physical body."

 

    "Then as long as my body remains here..." She began, paused, and then returned his grin with one of her own. "I will be able to return."

 

     Yet for how simple the plan had sounded, the preparations were overwhelming and it became increasingly obvious that it was anything but. The two of them pored through book after book, searching for any precedent of what they sought to accomplish. They theorized endlessly about different scenarios. They gathered the myriad materials that they needed for the ritual. For the first time in months, the two of them were refreshed and hopeful. Excited, even. If all went according to plan, the answers they needed were at their fingertips, just waiting to be grasped.

 

     Now, the day had finally arrived. Xheja was pulled out of her thoughts to the sound of Marcelloix's voice, murmuring quietly to himself, finally breaking the quiet with a weighted sigh. He turned towards her, studying the dark-haired woman for a long moment before leveling his serious gaze upon her.

 

     "It is time to begin," He began, stepping aside and motioning towards the table set out in front of him, everything upon it meticulously placed. "Are you ready, Xheja?"

 

     Her mouth opened to reply, but the words momentarily died in her throat. For a long moment, all she could do was stare silently at the other, studying his him intently. He wore his exhaustion on his sleeve. This man - her beloved mentor and friend - had worked tirelessly for days now to see this plan through for her. She owed him a great debt that she doubted could ever be repaid. The thought was enough to stir an emotional tickle in the back of her throat. Yet she refrained, instead offering him a tentative smile as she pushed herself from the window.

 

     "Yes. I am ready."[/align]

 

 

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[align=center]|| . . . OOC Notes . . . ||[/align]

So, this is part one of three as far as the backstory goes to explain Xheja's change of character. Originally, I was going to write it all up in one shot.. But it kind of ended up being a lot longer and more detailed than I had planned. Ha, whoopsie. Not sure when I'll get the other two parts finished seeing as I'm trying to finishing kicking a nasty cold, but I'll do my best. Let me know what y'all think! c:

 

[chaoticsleepy]

[align=center][ . . The Collector:  Part Two . . ][/align]

 

 

[align=center]C O E R T H A S[/align]

 

[align=left]     "It is time to begin," Marcelloix began, stepping aside and motioning towards the table set out in front of him, everything upon it meticulously placed. "Are you ready, Xheja?"

     A shred of hesitation was evident, a pause coming just before the Keeper woman answered. "Yes. I am ready." Her lips pulled into a small, if not anxious smile. Regardless, she stepped away from the window, drawing nearer to the table set out in front of the older Elezen man.

     Her silver eyes swept over the elaborate setup in front of her, examining every opened book, half-empty vial, and softly flickering candle with an almost alarmingly high attention to detail. It felt almost as if her aether was alight, buzzing.. Her senses felt raw and sharp, nose differentiating the smell of each different reagent present and eyes flicking back and forth rapidly between objects. Even her sense of touch as she ran her fingertips over the bumpy grain of the wooden table felt especially sensitive.

     Perhaps it was just her nerves coming to a head now that she was to come face-to-face with the answers she had sought for nigh on six years now, ever since Carteneau. Perhaps it was the knowledge that the entity that held those answers was a Voidsent. More likely, it was perhaps the uncertainty of the situation. Even though Marcelloix had assured her that the process should work flawlessly, in theory, the fact remained that there was no real precedent for what she was doing. At least, not that they had found in their fervent research. Even the most fortified hypotheses had a possibility to go awry in the heat of the moment.

     She couldn't stop herself from thinking on it, her gaze growing distant as she stared down at the table. What if she never returned? The concept of death was one thing, and truthfully, the thought of dying - truly dying - hadn't frightened her in years. What worried her now was the thought of life eternal, entrapped in an unknown realm or plane of existence home to malevolent, violent monsters of every sort imaginable. What absolutely terrified her, however, was the thought of becoming one of them..

     "Xheja?" The voice sounded distant to her ears, only seeming to really reach her as she finally looked up and met the man's pale blue-gray gaze. The corners of his lips turned down in a deep frown. "If you are having second thoughts.."

     "I'm fine. I was simply in thought."

     He regarded her quietly for a moment before simply nodding and turning back to the table, knowing better than to push the subject too far. For that, she was grateful. In this moment, she was feeling weaker than she had in a long time. Not physically weak, but mentally so. It was the type of weakness that made her feel like any slight bit of dissuasion from the other would quickly convince her to back out from the ritual.

     When Marcelloix's attention returned to her once more, he held a knife in his hands, pulling it free from its ornate sheath. The Keeper's silver eyes fell to it, studying it with a look of both dread and intrigue. The steel was immaculate and glittering in the candlelight, and it was obviously well-crafted. More than that, however, it seemed to glow softly with some unseen aetheric force. She could feel it.[/align]

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     "There is one last ingredient necessary in order to construct the path to the Void." The man shifted to extend his free hand towards her, palm open and upwards facing. "Your blood should be sufficient in channeling your aetheric connection with the Void. If you'd like, there are herbs with numbing properties.."

 

     Xheja shook her head, simply extending her hand to place it in his own. Her eyes rose to meet his, a weak smile taking to her lips. "That won't be necessary. I can handle a bit of pain."

 

     Without arguing, the Elezen man pressed the sharpened edge of the knife against the soft, tender flesh of her palm. The initial pressure was lacking, the blade simply pressed firmly against her skin. But after one last pause to ensure that she was fine, he pressed harder, the blade biting into her skin. A sharp hiss escaped her, her nose wrinkling and eyes pressing shut. Yet true to her word, she bit down on the inside of her bottom lip, stubbornly enduring the stinging pain.

     The dark, red blood immediately began to well at the wound, slowly pooling in her hand. A few fat drops fell heavily to the floor as the other gently guided her closer to the table, positioning her hand over a small bowl half-filled with various other reagents. He tilted her palm so that the blood began to drip downwards into it, watching carefully as if he were silently measuring each drop. When he had apparently gathered enough, he tilted her hand upright once more, reaching out with a free hand to grab a handkerchief and then press it firmly into her palm.

 

     "Press it firmly against the wound," he instructed.

 

     "I know, I know." She sighed quietly, though did exactly as she was bade.

 

     Wordlessly, Marcelloix's attention focused once more on the bowl in front of him, gently mixing the Keeper's blood in with the viscous mixture. Once it was thoroughly blended, he exchanged tools, extracting a thick bristled brush from his array of tools.

 

     As he dipped the end into the draught as if it were an inkpot, Xheja stepped closer to observe. Her eyes followed every movement he made closely as he drew a large circle in the empty center of the table, each addition he made making the design grow more and more complex. Circles within circles, interrupted by occasional sharp angles.. It was unlike anything the woman had ever seen before.

 

    Once the outline was finished, the Elezen man exchanged the large brush for a smaller one, dipping it in the mixture and then setting to work at filling in the details. Her head canted to the side, and as much as she did not wish to disturb him, she couldn't help her curiosity.

 

     "Is this.. arcanima? These circles and drawings.. They seem like what you would find within an arcanist's grimoire." 

 

     "Not at all. Though the form may appear similar, this is an aetheric art of its own right." He paused in his writing to look to her, giving her a small smile. "These sorts of symbols and runes are used in the summoning of Voidsent. Though, for our objective, I've had to repurpose them.." Once again, Marcelloix trailed off, returning to his work.

 

     Now that he had mentioned it, she could see the marked differences. These runes were entirely unlike the Eorzean alphabet, possessed of an entirely different, foreign shape and form. Yet.. there was something oddly familiar about them. It was almost as if the miqo'te woman could read the words, but only in the most vague, intuitive sense of the word. It was a strange, indescribable feeling. Yet to feel this sort of connection to whatever this odd, unfamiliar Void language was.. Such unnerved her greatly.

 

     "Perhaps I truly am some sort of monster." The thought turned her stomach, her lips pulling into a deep and serious scowl. However, before she could lose herself in her own anxious, dark thoughts, the older man turned to her.

     "It is ready, Xheja. Step here, extend your hands, and place one in either circle on the sides of the diagram." He stepped aside for her to take his place, ever patient even as she hesitated.

 

     The breath seemed to catch in her lungs before she numbly stepped forward, turning to face the table. Looking down at the scrawlings, she could feel the dreadful aura of power radiating from it. She reached out both hands, stopping once more when they hovered just over the two empty circles awaiting them. Her hands were trembling.

     "Be brave," Marcelloix spoke up from beside her, his voice firm yet encouraging, seeming to sense her trepidation and its source. "You've resisted the Void's corruption once before when I gave you your first task. You will do so again. Have faith in yourself."

 

     Her head turned to look up at him, eyes wide and mouth falling open. But the words she wanted to speak died in her throat. No, I did not resist the Void's corruption, she wanted to tell him. J'suloh cut the man down before I even had the chance to be strong. Yet no matter how hard she tried to will the words to life, she simply couldn't. She was afraid, and it was far too late to turn back now and betray the man's trust.

 

     Slowly and silently, she nodded, letting her eyes fall back to the elaborate circling pattern in front of her. Her shaking hands lowered into position. A soft shudder ran down her spine suddenly at the almost electric feeling that traveled up her arms and through her chest, but she resisted the urge to recoil away from it. No, she had to continue. There was no turning back now.

 

     "Very good. Now channel your aether through the diagram, much like the focus of a staff or sceptre."

 

     Xheja let out the breath she had been holding as she complied, letting the aether course freely from her. It surprised her, how simple it was. In a way, it was simpler than even channeling through a weapon. It felt natural.

 

     Yet before she could ruminate on the strangeness for overlong, it was done. The odd patterns drawn onto the table glowed softly with her aether as a small, dark ball of.. nothing began to form at the circle's center. Her brows knitted as she watched it, slowly growing in size until it eventually filled the entirety of the inner ring.

 

     Those silver eyes widened as she watched the dark black and purple aether fluctuate and pulse, her stomach turning. Suddenly, now that she was facing the Void head-on, the fear was overwhelming. She wanted to run. Her heart felt as if it would beat right out of her chest, and her mind raced.

 

     However, when she tried to desperately pull her hands away, she could not. It was as if they were stuck there firmly by some unforeseen force, no matter how much she willed herself to back away. She wanted to scream and beg, but the words wouldn't come. All she could feel was the odd, sickening sensation of her aether - her very self - being pulled into that cold, black pit as the rest of the world around her faded away.

 

     And then there was nothing.[/align]

 

 

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[align=center]|| . . . OOC Notes . . . ||[/align]

Part two! Though, there may end up being more like four or five parts instead of the originally planned three. Whoops. Just looking forward to getting this backstory finished~

[chaoticsleepy]

[align=center][ . . The Collector:  Part Three . . ][/align]

 

 

[align=center]T H E   V O I D[/align]

 

[align=left]     M uch like the sensation felt as one drifts off to sleep, once her surroundings had faded away, Xheja descended slowly into the feeling of nothingness. Her mind was barely coherent as the Void took her in, her thoughts jumbled and senseless. Yet she was oddly calm now, her heart having ceased its attempts to beat itself out of her chest and her breaths coming in a slow, even rhythm once more.

 

     Eventually, one clear thought did manage to surface. How long had she been here? Minutes, or maybe hours? Longer? Whatever inner sense of time she was in possession of, this place utterly interfered with it. Or perhaps, the concept simply didn't exist in this space..

 

     "I see that you've come around. Good."

     The voice suddenly reaching her ears had her eyes flying open. Truly, she hadn't even known that they were closed to begin with. Yet when they opened, her breath was taken away by the sight. Blackness. Nothingness. Only the movement of roiling aether around her. Was this..?

 

     "...the Void?" She managed to whisper the words aloud, her voice sounding small and distant to her own ears. A soft, melodic laugh from nearby greeted her.

 

     "Very good!" The voice answered. Now that she was focused upon it, Xheja could make out its properties:  undoubtedly feminine, high-pitched, and oddly cheerful. "This is the Void. Rather, it's your perception of the Void given form. Though this is rather.. bleak, don't you think?" Another soft, playful laughed followed. "Now stand up, and let's have ourselves a little chat, no?"

     Slowly, the Keeper woman pushed herself upright, first into a sitting position. Still disoriented, she shakily began to push herself to a standing position, swaying lightly on her feet before managing to steady herself and straighten her posture. Her head turned from side to side, brows furrowing as she searched for the origin of the voice.

 

     "Looking for me, Sweetling?" the voice all but purred out close behind her, causing her to turn sharply on her heel to face the other. Xheja's eyes widened slightly when she finally spotted her.

 

     She wasn't sure what exactly she had been expecting, but this certainly wasn't it. Perhaps she had expected some sort of grotesque monster, or awe-inspiring beast. Yet the woman that now stood in front of her was an utterly unimposing Midlander woman, slight of build and barely even a few ilm taller than the Keeper herself. Her own eyes were wide and bright, their color a soft lavender to match her fair complexion. Her long, blonde hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. The dress she wore was just as pristine, white and luxurious while still rather conservative in design.

 

     As Xheja's own features took on a look of shock and confusion, the other woman's head cocked to the side. "You don't remember me at all? Truly?" She asked, almost sounding.. hurt? The Keeper's confused look only deepened.

 

     The hyur woman let out a soft sigh, stepping forward gracefully until she had closed the distance between them. She lifted a pale hand to extend it towards the other. Xheja recoiled instinctively, causing the other's frown to deepen. She seemed.. sad, for some reason? The Keeper stilled herself, letting the other's hand finally reach out to gently cup her cheek. Once again, she found herself surprised by how soft and gentle the touch was.

 

     "Perhaps you don't remember.." The woman muttered to herself, her thumb gently stroke the miqo'te's cheek. "Given the nature of your previous visits to the Void, it is plausible."

     "I've been here before?" Xheja asked suddenly, voice skeptical.

 

     "You have, Sweetling," she answered. "On two occasions." At the look of blatant confusion, the hyur woman gave her cheek one last gentle pat, then withdrew. "Most recently was after your incident at Witchdrop a few years ago. You withdrew here, your body badly broken, and I held you and comforted you until you healed and left me once more."

     For a long moment, Xheja's questioning gaze remained on the other woman. Yet the other patiently allowed her the time to process the information. Gradually, Xheja gave a nod, hesitating before speaking up once again.

 

     "So Marcelloix was right? When I perish in the physical realm, my aether comes here?"

 

     For the first time, the other woman's soft and delicate expression faltered. A flash of something.. dark appeared on her features, only to disperse as quickly as it had came. A strained smile followed.

 

     "Yes. He is correct."

 

     Xheja could not help but wonder about the source of the strange look that had appeared at the mention of the other mage's name. Her mouth opened to question it, but suddenly closed once again. Somehow, she sensed that it was a subject best left unbreached for now. Instead, she redirected her questioning elsewhere.

 

     "If that is so.. When was the first time that I came here? To the Void?"

 

     "Nigh on six years ago," she answered immediately, her smile now taking on a hint of sadness. "After you perished on the fields of Carteneau, and your dear friend sought me out to make a deal on your behalf."

 

     Once more, the miqo'te fell into silence, her mind working hard to process all of the information. More than anything, she couldn't help but wonder why she could not even vaguely recall this place. She stared, long and hard, at the other woman's face. Yet try as she might, there was not even a single shred of familiarity to be found.

 

     "Perhaps this is why your perception of the Void is so barren and blank?" She began, as if sensing what the other was trying to recall. "When you were here, you were utterly incoherent. I suppose it makes sense that you wouldn't recall anything." Another sigh, albeit a rather dramatic one, passed her lips. Her hands rose, shoulders shrugging. "Alas, it cannot be helped. I suppose we should start over, from the beginning. I know you have questions. You need only speak them, and I will give you the answers you seek."

     Answers? Xheja hesitated again, caught off-guard by how easily the creature offered up the very thing she had come here to seek out. At first, she was relieved at the apparent ease of it. She had mentally prepared herself for having to dig and pry even the slightest hints of information from the other, who now seemed to be an open book sitting in front of her.

 

     Yet the more she really thought about it, the more skeptical she became. This woman was, without a doubt, a Void creature. No matter what pretty guise she chose to wore or how gentle she acted, nothing changed that fact. She had heard endless stories of the fell beasts acting innocent in order to get their claws into someone, to further their own goals. Not to mention, her mind kept going back to that brief flash of something across her face at Marcelloix's name.

 

     There was definitely something suspicious about the situation. It reeked of deceit and manipulation, and the woman inwardly scolded herself for nearly succumbing to it in a moment of weakness. Yet she had no choice but to play along with this odd game, for the fear was there that should she call the bluff, those answers she needed so desperately would be tugged away from her. She would just have to be vigilant.

 

     "Who are you?" Xheja asked finally, doing her best to keep her tone even. The immediate response was another soft, pretty laugh.

 

     "You would start with a difficult question, wouldn't you?" Those light purple eyes twinkled with delighted amusement, her nose wrinkling softly. "I've had so very many names that I fear I've forgotten what my name truly is. Though there are those of your realm that have taken to calling me the Collector.. An odd and uninspiring appellation, in my opinion. They couldn't have been more inventive?"

 

     She couldn't help but find herself skeptical that the other had forgotten her true name. It was highly unlikely that something so important to a creature such as herself, something that could be used to control her, would be so easily discarded. Yet she knew better than to press the matter.

 

     "Why do they call you such?" She asked.

 

     "Why do they call me the Collector?" The woman repeated, brows lifting. "I suppose it's on account of the deals I make with individuals like yourself." At Xheja's perplexed look, her smile widened. "You're not the first person with whom I've contracted, dear Xheja. Far from it. In fact, this--" She extended her arms to her side, showing off her form. "This is the form of the first person to make a deal with me. There are others that I could show you, if you're curious..?"

     Suddenly, the other's rather harmless appearance made more sense. It was a disguise. It was rather clever, too. If the creature refused to impart the knowledge of its name and its true form to her, then it could protect itself quite thoroughly. The Voidsent's cunning frustrated her, but she kept the emotion from reaching her face.

 

     "That isn't necessary." She shook her head, before leveling her silver-eyed gaze on the other once more. "You collect us, then? To what end?"

 

     "When you put it that way, it sounds so malicious.."

 

     "I simply want to know. Traipsing around the question serves neither of us."

     The hyur woman sighed heavily, lowering her arms to cross them over her chest. "Let me first say that I am not the one that sought out you nor the others like you. It was you - or in your case, your friend - that came to me. Such was the case in the past as well. But I suspect it is not the collection of those like you that earned myself such a moniker. It is what I asked of them." Her words were careful, measured.. As if she had been anticipating this question. Obviously, she had given her response much thought. "They came to me with a desire. I granted it. In exchange, I only asked for one simple thing."

     "And that one thing..?"

 

     The Collector's plush lips pulled into a wide, almost wicked smile. For the first time, the other truly seemed like the Voidsent she was. "Aether."

     With that single word, so many things seemed to click into place for her. Aether. Suddenly, the years of drawing forth the aether locked within crystals and shards made sense. The Keeper had always wondered why she was required to do such a thing to function properly, but now..

 

     "What need do you have of aether?" Xheja asked pointedly, her suspicious look finally making its way onto her expression. Upon seeing it, the hyur's smile shifted to a smirk.

 

     "You seem to be losing patience," she observed. "Then you'll want a direct answer, no?"

 

     The woman nodded, though something once again didn't settle right with her. Why was this Voidsent so eager to part with such information?

 

     "The same thing that most of those who come to me want:  Power." The blonde woman looked positively gleeful. "Let me tell you a story, dear Xheja. Many, many years ago, this woman--" She lifted those arms again, showing herself off. "--was third in line to the throne of her people. She wanted nothing more than to be Queen, to wield such power and influence. Yet she was a pitiable strategist. Every plan she hatched to dispose of her two elder sisters failed miserably."

 

     "In one last act of desperation, she turned to the Void. I was nothing so impressive back then, the only creature that someone of her low caliber could summon forth. But what I lacked in power, I made up in cunning." Once again, she flashed that wicked smile. "She contracted with me then. If she would provide me with the aether to grow stronger, I would see her sitting upon her much beloved throne. True to her word, she did exactly as she was bade, borrowing my cunning and charm to lure away victims and offer up their aether to me."

 

     "In time, I had grown strong enough to put plans into action. Through this woman, I pulled strings from the Void, and her desires came to pass. Her sisters met their end, and it was her who became Queen. Yet there were those who questioned her ascension, they knew better than to question her aloud. I had fulfilled my end of the bargain."

 

     Xheja quirked a brow. "And then?"

 

     The blonde's look soured again, though the Keeper wasn't entirely sure if it was at her pressuring, the story itself, or perhaps a mixture of both. Regardless, the Collector continued on.

 

     "This poor woman believed that the bargain was done when her own wish was fulfilled. She ceased her offerings to me, believing that she had grown so powerful that I was no longer needed. Yet she failed to realize that it was my strength she drew from, not her own. Everything she had become, it was a result of my designs. So naturally, when she decided that she would spurn me, I took matters into my own hands.. I took her aether."

 

     "So you--" Xheja began, only to be cut off sharply. Apparently, it was the pressuring before that had annoyed her.

 

     "--'possessed' her, as your kind are wont to call it? Indeed. I had grown strong enough by that time to be able to materialize in the physical realm, and she provided the perfect host for which to give myself a suitably discreet form." The Voidsent suddenly gave a small spin, setting the ruffles of her dress to a flutter. "I wore her appearance just as surely as she wore this exquisite gown."

 

     A sick feeling began in the pit of Xheja's stomach. Whatever innocent, almost matronly mask the creature had worn upon her arrival in the Void had been utterly discarded. Now, she could very much see the beast's true, power-thirsty nature and utter disregard for mortal life. As the other came to a stop again, her head canted to the side, giving Xheja a wide-eyed, curious look.

 

     "Does this bother you?" She asked, that sweet tone making a reappearance.

 

     "Of course it bothers me." Xheja's answer was quiet, her gaze shifting elsewhere. She couldn't stand to look at her at the moment. "But I want to know what manner of monster I am dealing with. Tell me, what happened? Something must have went wrong, for you to be here now and to have went through so many others, as you claim."

 

     "Monster? You wound me." Her hurt tone was just as convincing as the performance of one of the third-class mummers she had often seen about Ul'dah. The loud sigh that accompanied it was even worse. "But you're very keen, as always. Yes. Something went terribly wrong."

 

     "I enjoyed the power of ruling immensely.. The wealth, the influence, and the adorations and affections of my many followers. I was able to win a great many of their hearts. Those who opposed me? I destroyed and devoured them, often publically. Alas, such impulsivity and.. pomp eventually garnered the attention of Void hunters. I was still too young to understand how such hubris would inevitably be punished."

 

     This time, it was Xheja's turn to smirk. Naturally, she found the turn of events satisfying. It satisfied her even further to see the rather annoyed look her reaction had brought about on the other's face. Her lips set into a hard scowl, but she didn't dignify it with a response.

 

     "They descended upon me with a fury and with a set of skills I had never before witnessed. I fought them, of course. In the end, I'm ashamed to admit that they prevailed." Her expression turned into a deep snarl of a sneer, her disgust evident. "Yet more than simply returning me to the Void, they sealed me here."

     The dark-haired Keeper examined the Voidsent for a long moment, weighing the information. Her mind tried to fit the pieces together, to make sense of it all. Yet there seemed to be something missing.

 

     "So you're sealed to the Void. That explains why we were unable to summon you, correct?"

     "Indeed." The Collector nodded. "No matter what method of summoning ritual you had tried, I fear you wouldn't have been able to succeed. Such is the manner of the bindings they forced upon me."

     "Then if you are bound here, what is the point of continuing to collect aether? Why would you continue making deals to gather something that is useless to you here?" She demanded, shaking her head. "Are you simply that petty?"[/align]

 

 

[align=left]     "You'll take care to watch your tongue," the hyur snapped suddenly with eyes narrowed, catching Xheja completely off-guard. Her words were like ice -- cold, jagged, and piercing to the core. "I do so like you, Xheja, but I grow exceedingly weary of your criticisms of matters you mistakenly think you understand."

     For the first time since their conversation began, the miqo'te could feel that sense of fear returning. With the other's anger flared and exposed, she could practically feel how powerful she was. Bound to the Void or not, there was no denying that the Voidsent in front of her was capable. Very capable.

 

     "With enough aether - with enough power - any binding can be undone. Such is what I believe. That is the reason I continue making deals with those like yourself. I use you as pawns, granting your petty wishes in exchange for gathering the aether that I am now unable to collect for myself."

     "Why are you even telling me this?" She finally blurted out, shaking her head. "It makes no sense. Are you not fearful that I'll return to my world and use this knowledge against you? What if I refuse to collect aether for you?"

 

     She expected the Voidsent to grow angry with her. However, the comment seemed to have the opposite effect. Once more, she let loose that terribly feminine, gently laugh. She even lifted a dainty hand, covering her smiling lips to stifle the noise.

 

     "You truly overestimate yourself, don't you? Even if you were not the one to make a contract with me directly, it is still your aether that belongs to me." Those lavender eyes were alight with wicked amusement. "You may protest as you wish, but you will do as I bid."

     "And if I don't?" She challenged, despite the hard, fast beating of her heart. Be brave, she recalled Marcelloix's words.

 

     Her bravery faltered, however, as the elegant woman slowly stepped forward. Xheja held her ground, though it seemed to take an eternity before the woman actually reached her. When she did, she lifted out a hand. Instinctively, the miqo'te flinched, eyes shutting tight.. only to open again when she felt the gentle touch of that pale hand lying flat against her chest. Her look was questioning.

 

     "Dear, sweet Xheja. Do we truly have to be at such odds?" The woman sighed, giving her a warm smile. "You know my pain, do you not? To be bound to a place in which you do not belong? To want nothing but to be released?"

     Surprisingly, the words struck her more deeply than she had thought possible. No, she thought to herself. Don't let yourself be manipulated. Yet even though she knew that it was a trick meant to toy with her emotions, the creature had hit far too close to home.

 

     "You are a very intelligent, driven woman. In the time I've been with you, watching you, I've come to adore that about you. And truly, I feel remorse to have to hold you in a position so similar to my own. Yet this was the deal that your ally unfortunately thrust upon the both of us.."

     It's a trick, she inwardly repeated, looking away and squeezing her eyes shut, trying her best to ignore the other. Don't listen to her.

     "Yet, if you were to gather aether for me and see that I'm released from this prison.. Our deal would be fulfilled, and I would be obligated to release you from your own." The Collector paused, her other hand moving to Xheja's chin to gently take it in her fingers, turning her head back so that their eyes met. She could feel her resolve crumbling. "This is what you want most, is it not?"

 

     This was what Marcelloix had wanted to test - her willpower. When he had sent her forth to meet the maddened mage in Coerthas, he had wanted to be sure that her will was strong enough to withstand such treacherous, manipulative offers. And she had lied to him and let him believe that she had, when truly, she had done nothing but be weak.

 

     Perhaps this was her punishment for betraying the man's trust?

 

     "Fine.. I'll continue collecting aether from crystals.."

     "Oh no, dear." The woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "That would take far, far too long. Yet if you were to acquire aether from living creatures, especially from your fellow man.."

     "No... No! I won't do such a thing. I--" Her defiance was cut off with a sharp hiss as the grip on her chin tightened, nails biting into her skin.

 

     "You need not kill, stubborn girl. You're very intelligent, even if you're not thinking clearly in this moment. You will find ways - subtle ways - to do this for me." The grip she had on Xheja's chin loosened again, "Though.. There is one person in particular who I am afraid must die."

     Perhaps it was a moment of weakness, or just an oddly morbid sense of curiosity. Despite knowing that she should immediately refuse and fight, entirely different words came to her lips.

 

     "Who?"

 

     The Collector's response did not come immediately. Instead, she watched the miqo'te for a long moment, studying her with an unsettling intensity. At length, after what felt to Xheja to be like excruciatingly long hours under scrutiny, the woman smirked.

 

     "Thieroux."

     Horrified at the proposal, Xheja made to jerk away from the woman's touch. Before she could even so much as take a single step back, a sharp pain radiated from her chest, ripping the air from her lungs. Stunned, her eyes fell downwards. The hand that had been previously resting gently, tenderly resting against her chest had shifted position. Those long, delicate fingers of hers had extended into horrifying, wicked claws - claws that were buried deep in her chest.

 

     A loud, pained shriek tore itself from her throat, the pain bringing her to her knees. Her hands went up to desperately try to pull the woman's hand away, but was unable to so much as budge her in the slightest. Even if she looked delicate, the Collector was deceitfully strong.

 

     "Shame you failed my test as well, just as you failed his," she sighed, cruelly twisting those embedded claws, pulling another ragged scream from the woman. "Marcelloix Thieroux is descended from those Void hunters who imprisoned me here. It is only right that he should die, and that his aether should become mine. If you had accepted my task and seen to his execution obediently, I would've let you return home and do as you pleased. But it seems to me that you'll need my help after all.."[/align]

[align=left]

     Slowly, the aether began to flicker as it flowed down the beast's thin arm, gradually making its way from her shoulder all the way down to her hand. Xheja tried desperately to pull away, yet those claws were buried so deep that there was no escaping them. She let out another pained groan turned sob as she felt the other's aether enter her, weakly clawing at the woman's wrist in one last effort.

 

     Yet the aether continued to flow, the corruption spreading even as the blinding pain saw her struggling to cling to consciousness. At length, the blonde woman roughly pulled her hand back, carelessly wiping those sickening claws on her dress, leaving trails of deep red in their wake. Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at Xheja, seeming almost to glow.

     "I'll remain true to my promise, if only because I have so much pity for you. Gather aether and see me released from the Void, and I will release your own aether from its prison. That is my gift to you." Already, the woman's words were seeming to grow distant, quiet as Xheja's vision blackened again. "Now go."

     She wanted to fight, to claw and scream until the Voidsent released its grip on her. Yet sitting there, crumbled to the ground with her hands pressed to the wound in her chest, she couldn't even move, much less protest. All she could do was sob quietly as her willpower to resist faded away along with her vision.

 

     And once more, there was nothing.[/align]

 

 

 

[align=center]- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/align]

 

 

[align=center]|| . . . OOC Notes . . . ||[/align]

So much dialogue oh my god make it stop why. But really, though. Glad to finally have this part finished. Explains a lot of the reasoning behind what really changed Xheja, as well as more about the Collector and its motivation. \o/ And kind of gives some insight into why Xheja's mannerisms are what they are now - being that the Collector has completely and utterly corrupted her. 

 

I also took some liberties on the Void and such, considering that there isn't a comprehensive collection of lore to really work off of there. Tried to keep it simple, though, for fear the retcon hammer and minimal headcannon conflict. x: -crosses fingers-

[chaoticsleepy]

[align=center][ . . The Collector:  Part Four . . ][/align]

 

 

[align=center]C O E R T H A S[/align]

 

     A ll around her was a dark, ink-like blackness. A blackness that was almost palpable, like the very bottom of the ocean where no light hopes to penetrate. A blackness that seemed to have substance of its own, breathed into her lungs like seawater. Yet if she were truly drowning, her body did not protest. Everything was still and quiet. Only in the very back of her mind was she even aware of the odd sensation.

 

[align=left]     "Xheja.." 

     Was she dreaming, perhaps? It felt as if her body was floating. The feeling seemed so familiar.. Had she not just experienced it, not long ago? At least, it seemed that no great measure of time has passed, but did she truly have any way of knowing? Her head seemed unclear, her thoughts fuzzy and unfocused. But someone was calling out to her, though their voice seemed to carry on the wind from miles and miles away.

 

     "Xheja!"[/align]

 

     This time, the voice was closer, more concrete, and able to rouse her. Her eyes blinked open slowly, only to stubbornly squeeze shut again. Even the dim candlelight in the small home seemed far too bright. Inwardly, she longed to return to the comforting blackness. Yet at length, she forced her eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling in clear disorientation.

 

     "You're awake,"  the nearby voice breathed, relief evident. Her head slowly turned towards its source, eyebrows furrowing as she stared at the older Elezen. It took a moment longer for her to come to her senses enough to recognize him. Marcelloix. In the same moment that the recognition hit her, another emotion entirely struck her even harder. Hatred. 

 

     Where was this emotion coming from? It didn't seem like her own. She tried her best to recall the memories, the source of it. Yet all she could recall were long nights spent poring through seemingly endless stacks of books, bouncing theories and hypotheses off of one another.. a gentle, almost fatherly hand laid upon her shoulder when the frustration and desperation had reached their peak, bringing bitter tears to her eyes.

 

    Yet there it was, the sting of anger burning in her chest like a wound newly made. This emotion was hers. How? Why? Her eyebrows furrowed deeply, her apparent confusion seeming to prompt the man to speak.

 

     "I.. was beginning to doubt the soundness of my theory," the man admitted, sounding both sheepish and exhausted in equal measure. "As soon as you were gone, your heart stopped. By all rights, you were dead." His words were slow, methodical, but his tone was strained. This wasn't the same confident, even-headed scholar that she remembered. It sounded like the entire time she had been 'out', he had been holding his breath, and had just now finally exhaled. "I kept telling myself that this was what we had expected, but I hadn't thought it to take so long. It's been hours."

 

     Once more, the Keeper's brows furrowed, her gaze flicking from the man in front of her to the window. It had felt like only minutes since she had been standing there, staring at the reddish-orange glow that the light cast off of the snow. Now, all she could see was blackness. It was the dead of night.

 

     "Do you feel alright?"  Marcelloix asked, stepping away to another table nearby. When he turned back, he held a stoneware mug in his hands. Whatever the contents were, the steam rose off of it in thick tendrils in the cold air. He held it out for her to take. "Here. Drink. You're cold as a corpse."

 

     She hadn't noticed, truly, until she slowly and unsteadily pushed herself up into a sitting position on the cot and reached to take that cup. The sheer heat of it seemed almost scorching like a burning coal to her cold, stiff fingers. With a wince, she took it into her grasp regardless, willing it to bring the life back to her as she brought the mug upwards to sip at the liquid -- a light herbal tea, by the taste of it. Just as it had burned her fingers, it stung her throat to the point of bringing tears to her eyes. Yet there was something revitalizing about it that kept her drinking.

 

    The man watched her drink for a moment before he turned away again. When he returned again, it was to bring her yet more. He sat a small tray in front of her on the bed. Placed upon it were a few modest odds and ends. A couple pieces of bread that had since grown rather stale, a small bowl of what appeared to be a thick stew, and a block of hard cheese. 

 

     "Eat, if you're able," He encouraged her, "It will help you regain your strength."

 

     Something about the attention rubbed her the wrong way, a wave of annoyance hitting her so suddenly and fiercely that she couldn't stop the glare that she leveled on him. Seeming to note it, his eyebrows rose in clear surprise, before giving a soft, apologetic laugh.

 

     "I must be bothering you. I do apologize, Xheja. You're a woman grown, I know, not a child to be fussed over." He gave her a small, tired smile. "Forgive an old man his worrying. It has been many cycles since last I had a student, and it seems I've forgotten how close a teacher is wont to grow to them."

 

     The annoyance didn't fade, but the odd feeling of warmth and affectionate that rose along side it in stark opposition only served to confuse her once again. She stared at him for a long moment, trying to puzzle it out. How could she, at the same time, feel such a love and such a hatred for him? At length, she dropped her gaze down to the food before her, leveling her gaze on it instead.

 

     "Ah, yes. Utensils." The Elezen turned one final time, retrieving both a spoon and a knife to lay upon the tray. Xheja's eyes were drawn to the latter, lingering there for a long moment before his next words drew her attention upwards again. "If you're able, do tell me.. What were you able to learn?"

 

     The woman reached out to take up the knife, just holding it for a moment as if testing out the feel of it in her hand. Finally, she extended it, pressing it against that hard cheese. The blade wasn't especially sharp, it seemed. Yet tilting it forward towards its tip and applying enough pressure, it seemed to more readily sink into the rind and easily separate a small slice from the rest of the block.

 

     As she took the cheese between her fingers, she tried her best to remember. Once more, that confused, deeply thoughtful expression returned to her face. The entirety of her little excursion to the Void seemed like a dream newly awoken from. The details were there, she knew, right at the tip of her tongue. Yet the more she tried to reach out and grasp them, the further they seemed to slip away from her. However, one thing she did remember clearly.

 

    "Aether,"  she answered, her voice thin and scratchy. After clearing her throat, she tried again to expand upon her thoughts. "That is the creature's motivation. It seeks to amass aether."

 

     Marcelloix's expression grew a touch grim as he pulled over a chair, sinking down into it carefully. He propped his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to rest his weight against them. Xheja watched him wrestle with his own thoughts for a moment before returning her attention to her food. Once she began to nibble at it, her appetite came back all at once, and she had to consciously keep herself from greedily shoving spoonfuls of stew into her mouth.

 

     "When a Voidsent is intent on gathering aether, its purpose is never good. Tell me, did it speak of why?"  At his question, her silver eyes cut back to him, giving him another cool, sideways glare.

 

     "It wants to be free," she answered, words short and clipped. The tone of the answer seemed to even take the Elezen by surprise, giving him pause for a moment.

 

     "Free from..?"

 

     "The Void." She dipped one of the pieces of bread into what remained of the stew, chewing it slowly as she gauged his reaction. When he didn't immediately answer, she finished chewing and elaborated. "It is bound there, and it wishes not to be."

 

     Marcelloix slowly inhaled a deep breath, holding it in before exhaling it just as slowly. The worry on his features he wore plainly, only made all the more severe by years of wrinkles, lines, and the odd scar. "This does not bode well, Xheja. If the creature has been bound to the Void, then there is like to be a very good reason for someone having done so. I had hoped that we were simply dealing with a simple, roundabout case of possession, yet it seems that this is far more complicated, still.." He frowned deeply, shaking his head. "Whatever the case is, we cannot allow this creature to be freed."

 

     At his last words, that seething anger from before seemed to well up in her chest anew, burning even hotter than before. She ground her jaw together, making an effort to look away from him to hide the feeling of disgust that threatened to come to her features. If he noticed the reaction, then he certainly didn't let on as if he had.

 

     "Were you able to get a name from the creature, at least?" he finally asked. At the prompting, another piece of information seemed to spring to mind. A name -- or as close to one as she had been given. "If we only had a name, we could have some sort of direction.. We could free you from the creature, and see that it remains firmly on its side of the Void where it belongs."

 

     It was the last of his words that she could possibly endure. Any feelings of affection she had still had for the man seemed buried under ten tonze of hatred that burned so hot that it felt cold within her. Her eyes dropped to that knife lying just next to her right hand, giving it a long look. At length, she answered.

 

     "I think I vaguely recall.. The memories are hazy. Yet I do remember that it was familiar to me. Perhaps bring me that book of yours? The one where you've documented all the named Voidsent you've came across in your research?" She looked to him, a small smile pushed onto her lips. "I feel as if one of those names will cause me to remember."

 

[align=left]     The man nodded, slowly pushing himself up from his chair and turning towards the table by the bookcase onto which the two had books of all manner scattered about. However, he hadn't made it but a few steps before she was on him.

 

     The knife felt natural in her hands, and she cared little and less of the way that the tray at her feet clattered to the floor with the sudden jarring of her lunge. Clearly, an attack had been the last thing he had expected, a ragged gasp of shock tearing past his lips as she drove the tip of that dull knife blade into his doublet and between his ribs.[/align]

 

     Xheja threw her weight into the man. As modest as it was and even despite the man having such a size advantage over her, the shock and pain of the initial attack made it easy for her to topple him. Instinctively, he made to twist as he fell, landing on his back. Before his arms could even rise to defend himself, the miqo'te was upon him once more. This time, the blow was direct -- right to the heart.

 

     An odd amalgam of emotion hit her as her eyes landed upon his face, her head tilting to watch him with an almost animalistic sort of scrutiny. The pain and fear on his face was obvious, but there was something else there, as well. Hurt. Betrayal. So very vaguely, in the back of her mind, it caught her offguard. Yet it was just as quickly pushed away by the overwhelming sense of satisfaction that washed over her.

 

     That knife remained firmly planted in the man's chest, yet as his life ebbed, she could feel it -- his aether -- being pulled from him, and into herself. It seemed to coil up her arm like a serpent, wrapping around her tightly and sinking into her skin. It was thrilling, to put it simply, to have such a rush of power. By the time the last of it drained from him, Xheja felt as if she was positively set alight. Gleeful, even.

 

     Slowly, she pushed off of his chest, making her way to her feet. Warm blood coated her hands and her clothing, but she didn't seem to mind. Her plush lips had pulled into a wickedly amused smirk, and her eyes were practically shining with a morbid sense of mirth.

 

     Things were taken care of here, and this meddling Elezen man would no longer pose any threat to her. She should quit the village before morning came, when the other residents might stop by for some reason or another, this she knew. Xheja started towards the door, only to stop with a sudden recollection. She turned her eyes back to the hearth. Specifically, her attention focused on what laid above it -- Marcelloix's beloved weapon. The Stardust Rod that had been gifted to him by his Lord, to denote his service to the house. 

 

     Such a precious weapon would go to waste in anyone else's hands, would it not?

 

     Stepping over the man's body, Xheja drew closer to the fireplace, reaching up to gently tug the staff down from where it was mounted. Her smirk widened as she wrapped her fingers around it firmly, looking it over. Such a weapon was powerful, there was no arguing that. With this in her hands and practically glowing with the mage's stolen aether, she felt unstoppable. 

 

     Curious, she held it out, concentrating as she began channeling the aether through the weapon. The large gemstone seemed to come alive in response, the first part of the staff to react to its new master. The taint in its sheen was obvious, a dark purple-black deep set within the gem's soft yellow glow. 

 

     She continued pouring aether into the staff until she willed it to take form, the flame slowly growing until she finally flung it forward. The fireball crashed into the nearest bookshelf with enough force that it sent books flying in all directions, pages and covers alight. Immediately, the flames began lapping up the wooden shelf, spreading unhindered and out of control. Her eyes were wide as she watched them, the flickering flame reflected in her nigh luminescent eyes, amazed at how the flames seemed to have have life and a will of their own as they spread.

 

     This was the Collector's power, she knew. The power that was hers, as long as she kept her end of this bargain. It was intoxicating, addicting.. Little wonder that people strike deals with the devil for this sort of ability, she mused silently to herself. I've never felt so strong.

 

     Xheja once again turned from the door, smirking. She needed to return to Ul'dah, and soon. She had been gone for far too long now, and who knew what sort of mess her retainers had left her business in. Whatever had happened, though, she had little doubt that she could fix it. A little cunning, a little charm, a little manipulation.. These were her tools, and whatever did not yield to those methods would certainly yield to her power. This power.

 

     But first, there was one last issue to attend to:  Drakesbane's terrible cold. Now she had the most perfect remedy for it. In the dead of night, she would set the town ablaze while its darling, ice-cold inhabitants slept snugly in their beds. It wouldn't take but minutes for their largely wooden-and-stone houses to turn to ash, along with those inside, before they even had a chance to regret the way they had so disrespected her.

 

     She would watch as the flames rose higher and higher against the blackness of the night sky, her head lolling back lazily and eyes closing as she felt the heat radiate from the fires she had set. And for the first time in months, after enduring the cutting winds and the biting remarks, she finally felt warm.

 

 

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[align=center]|| . . . OOC Notes . . . ||[/align]

Finally done. @_@ It only took months, nbd. But with a relevant storyline starting up, I figured I should finally do some minor revisions and finish it off. Ta dah!