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Short Drabble: Where You Are
Some things no matter how long she had stayed in Coerthas, as she had come to realize, she would never fully grow accustomed to. Riding upon chocoboback had become commonplace since arriving to Eorzea. Crossing the foothills where over a decade ago her tribe had fled across seeking sanctuary in the holy city's lands, countless numbers of them had been slaughtered in the name of their "holy crusade" against all who remotely appeared to be Dravanian? That was something she still required time to get used to in regards to doing so safely. Approaching the first Vigil she had come to, still carrying her dear and dying sister, she could not help but recall how their hate for the dragons could be turned on others so easily because of the scales on their necks.
An anger still burned within her for the needless deaths of her kin, it was true. Yet for change to truly take place, one must set aside desires for revenge that would lead to further unneccessary bloodshed. To let go of a deep-seeded hate and start anew. Vengeance would not bring back the dead; and it was no way to live, despite how hard it was to let go of that resentment. Yet if there had been anything she had come to realize, it was that the majority needed not to suffer for the mistakes of the few. After all Korsica was Ishgardian, and the young elezen was one of the most sincere and stalwart she knew, despite her age and goofy side. Her fiance had been not been much better, either.
Yet as the entrance to the Steel Vigil came into view, the figure stopped short. Turning to the left, one could almost hear the soft crunching of hoofs treading on freshly fallen snow above the howling winds. Towards the stone pillars erected for countless knights whose lives had been lost in the last thousand years. Yet as she drew closer, the anger that presented itself with the old memory of vengeance gave way to another emotion. One she had felt so often since her recruitment to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn yet could not quite explain. Something that wasn't quite anger; not quite grief, either, yet just as crushing.
She had missed the service chasing after them, after all.
The lone warrior stopped at the edge of the cliff, hopping off the body of a young unicorn-turned elemental horror before looking over the gorge to the holy city of Ishgard that he had loved so. When she had first come here with her comrades seeking an airship once lost in the Calamity, she had no idea how any one creature (mortal or immortal) could truly love such a corrupt city lost in its own self-righteousness that it could not see past its own arse. In the past few moons, she was beginning to understand why.
"It has been too long, old friend," she apologized in her own unique way, not realizing there had been something caught in her throat until the words had fought to leave her. "There was... much and more what needed done."
For a brief moment in time, she could almost hear his voice again goading her on. Could almost hear his witty banter and sense his nigh flirtatious grin. Yet when she turned around, all that could be found was one lone tombstone with familiar words etched into the cold granite. Granite that should echo the warmth of those words the person whose name was etched into its face. Yet the only warmth that could be found was the air escaping her lungs as she shakily exhaled. Shakily because of the cold, she thought as she closed her eyes for a second and smiled as she turned to overlook the city.
'A smile better suits a hero.'
Yet as she gazed upon the stone walls on this moonlit night, she could not help but wonder many things. She'd finally had had some closure, she thought. Justice had been gained for the wrong committed to the family who accepted her even as those in her adopted homeland had thought her a traitor and regicidal. Her greatest advocate these past few moons had finally been avenged and could rest in peace, she thought. Yet her heart ached in a way she had not felt in one score, farther back than she could clearly recall.
Back to the starry sky that watched her twin struggle to carry her from the carnage, only to collapse from her own injuries and leaving Mae to carry her instead. The same night they last slept together with small bodies clung close and hopes for a brighter morrow held ever tighter.
"You have missed much, Haurchefant. Thordan and his Heavens' Ward are no more. Mayhap one day I will erect a stone for Lady Ysayle--" She cut herself short of finishing that sentence, a look of realization crossing her face before nodding. "Aye, Iceheart is also gone. S-slain by the Garleans on our way to Azys Lla. Estinien too was lost to Nidhogg's fury."
Despite herself, she sighs and smiled as she continued.
"We have lost much and more along the way, and while Ishgard is uncertain how to face the painful truths we but glimpsed, I am confident that a brighter morrow lies beyond the rising sun," she stated in a voice so quiet one would have to strain to hear over the howling wind as she moved to sit facing the stone. "We strive ever forward to the dawn we fought so desperately to saveguard... I just wish you could see it with Korsi by your side."
The lady of war grew silent, straining to hear a reply in the cold night. When none came, she simply remained standing vigil, waiting for the sun to rise on yet another day. The only sound breaking the silence was the sound of footfalls. A little surprised, she turns, only to meet the puffy gaze of a young Francel, approaching to place another Nymiea lily before the grave
"It never gets easier, does it?" she can hear him ask. With a slow shake of her head, she turned again so as to grant the young lord privacy. Of course, he probably cringed when he noticed the shield on her back, but she didn't care to let her own emotions show. Yet as he began to depart, she could not help but speak.
"Mind the road; I hear tell that Svara is in the area once more."
"Ah, yes, thank you, Warrior of Light," he stated shakily as if caught off-guard. Yet as he disappeared in the blizzard winds, she made no move to follow. Almost as though frozen in place.
"To think, twenty summers ago I had despised these shields with every fiber of my being..." she admitted, turning to face the grave of her friend and brother.
"Your father," she began before correcting herself, further breaking her silent vigil. "Lord Edmont stated that you thought me and my companions hope incarnate. That he thought you were waxing lyrical. Sometimes I wonder if that just may be it," she pondered aloud. She could not rightly express how much those words had meant when the count had bestowed upon her the shield that had failed its owner, but saved her life. How much it had meant for a refugee who had lost everything, only to regain some semblance of what she had and to lose it once more. When Artoirel asked that she would be like a sister to her as well. Yet she still could not find the words to console her close friend.
Ah yes, that was the word: despair.
"I pray that you may find peace within the Fury's halls, Haurchefant," she prayed, kneeling to place a flower beside the lily. "'A knight lives to serve,' and the Scions... we shall watch over the legacy you died to protect."
As the sun rose that dawn, the shadows seemed ever thicker...
An anger still burned within her for the needless deaths of her kin, it was true. Yet for change to truly take place, one must set aside desires for revenge that would lead to further unneccessary bloodshed. To let go of a deep-seeded hate and start anew. Vengeance would not bring back the dead; and it was no way to live, despite how hard it was to let go of that resentment. Yet if there had been anything she had come to realize, it was that the majority needed not to suffer for the mistakes of the few. After all Korsica was Ishgardian, and the young elezen was one of the most sincere and stalwart she knew, despite her age and goofy side. Her fiance had been not been much better, either.
Yet as the entrance to the Steel Vigil came into view, the figure stopped short. Turning to the left, one could almost hear the soft crunching of hoofs treading on freshly fallen snow above the howling winds. Towards the stone pillars erected for countless knights whose lives had been lost in the last thousand years. Yet as she drew closer, the anger that presented itself with the old memory of vengeance gave way to another emotion. One she had felt so often since her recruitment to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn yet could not quite explain. Something that wasn't quite anger; not quite grief, either, yet just as crushing.
She had missed the service chasing after them, after all.
The lone warrior stopped at the edge of the cliff, hopping off the body of a young unicorn-turned elemental horror before looking over the gorge to the holy city of Ishgard that he had loved so. When she had first come here with her comrades seeking an airship once lost in the Calamity, she had no idea how any one creature (mortal or immortal) could truly love such a corrupt city lost in its own self-righteousness that it could not see past its own arse. In the past few moons, she was beginning to understand why.
"It has been too long, old friend," she apologized in her own unique way, not realizing there had been something caught in her throat until the words had fought to leave her. "There was... much and more what needed done."
For a brief moment in time, she could almost hear his voice again goading her on. Could almost hear his witty banter and sense his nigh flirtatious grin. Yet when she turned around, all that could be found was one lone tombstone with familiar words etched into the cold granite. Granite that should echo the warmth of those words the person whose name was etched into its face. Yet the only warmth that could be found was the air escaping her lungs as she shakily exhaled. Shakily because of the cold, she thought as she closed her eyes for a second and smiled as she turned to overlook the city.
'A smile better suits a hero.'
Yet as she gazed upon the stone walls on this moonlit night, she could not help but wonder many things. She'd finally had had some closure, she thought. Justice had been gained for the wrong committed to the family who accepted her even as those in her adopted homeland had thought her a traitor and regicidal. Her greatest advocate these past few moons had finally been avenged and could rest in peace, she thought. Yet her heart ached in a way she had not felt in one score, farther back than she could clearly recall.
Back to the starry sky that watched her twin struggle to carry her from the carnage, only to collapse from her own injuries and leaving Mae to carry her instead. The same night they last slept together with small bodies clung close and hopes for a brighter morrow held ever tighter.
"You have missed much, Haurchefant. Thordan and his Heavens' Ward are no more. Mayhap one day I will erect a stone for Lady Ysayle--" She cut herself short of finishing that sentence, a look of realization crossing her face before nodding. "Aye, Iceheart is also gone. S-slain by the Garleans on our way to Azys Lla. Estinien too was lost to Nidhogg's fury."
Despite herself, she sighs and smiled as she continued.
"We have lost much and more along the way, and while Ishgard is uncertain how to face the painful truths we but glimpsed, I am confident that a brighter morrow lies beyond the rising sun," she stated in a voice so quiet one would have to strain to hear over the howling wind as she moved to sit facing the stone. "We strive ever forward to the dawn we fought so desperately to saveguard... I just wish you could see it with Korsi by your side."
The lady of war grew silent, straining to hear a reply in the cold night. When none came, she simply remained standing vigil, waiting for the sun to rise on yet another day. The only sound breaking the silence was the sound of footfalls. A little surprised, she turns, only to meet the puffy gaze of a young Francel, approaching to place another Nymiea lily before the grave
"It never gets easier, does it?" she can hear him ask. With a slow shake of her head, she turned again so as to grant the young lord privacy. Of course, he probably cringed when he noticed the shield on her back, but she didn't care to let her own emotions show. Yet as he began to depart, she could not help but speak.
"Mind the road; I hear tell that Svara is in the area once more."
"Ah, yes, thank you, Warrior of Light," he stated shakily as if caught off-guard. Yet as he disappeared in the blizzard winds, she made no move to follow. Almost as though frozen in place.
"To think, twenty summers ago I had despised these shields with every fiber of my being..." she admitted, turning to face the grave of her friend and brother.
"Your father," she began before correcting herself, further breaking her silent vigil. "Lord Edmont stated that you thought me and my companions hope incarnate. That he thought you were waxing lyrical. Sometimes I wonder if that just may be it," she pondered aloud. She could not rightly express how much those words had meant when the count had bestowed upon her the shield that had failed its owner, but saved her life. How much it had meant for a refugee who had lost everything, only to regain some semblance of what she had and to lose it once more. When Artoirel asked that she would be like a sister to her as well. Yet she still could not find the words to console her close friend.
Ah yes, that was the word: despair.
"I pray that you may find peace within the Fury's halls, Haurchefant," she prayed, kneeling to place a flower beside the lily. "'A knight lives to serve,' and the Scions... we shall watch over the legacy you died to protect."
As the sun rose that dawn, the shadows seemed ever thicker...