Day 6 - Halcyon

Day 6 - Halcyon

[Spoilers for ARR, Stormblood and Heavensward]

“What was it like, before the occupation?”

In that moment, Conrad Kemp couldn't keep the surprise from flickering over his face, turning to look at the Ala Mhigo native turned refugee and stare for a long, hard moment. Brynhorn Fiske sat unmoving, gazing out over Rhalgr's Reach with a critical silver eye from their perch atop the outstretched hand of Rhalgr himself. Gentle wind, blocked by the high walls on all sides, gently breezed through the white hair of the older man, and the longer black, more unkempt hair of the younger man, tugged at their coats, and brought a slow realization to the leader of the Ala Mhigan Resistance leader.

“Ah, you only knew the Garlean occupation.” Bryn nodded, shifting the rifle laid over his lap, and a look of soft sadness passed over his eyes. “Yes, and no. They invaded when I was ten. And I fled for my life at thirteen to avoid conscription. But my life before that…” He didn’t want to get into it, what he had seen, how he, so young, was forced to see the darker side of human nature. How even without the Garlean invasion, he would have fled anyways.

“You knew it right as you became a man,” was all Conrad said in reply, and Bryn nodded in agreement. For a long moment, they were both silent, and then Conrad spoke in a quiet voice. “It would be inaccurate of me to say peace existed with the King of Ruin on the throne, but the time before him…” He trailed off, and he smiled, eyes wistful as he tilted his head up into the air. “Halcyonic. My wife and I were together, we were happy, we had not a care in the world but healing, learning, growing. It was all incredibly peaceful.”

Bryn nodded softly, closing his eyes as he tried to imagine a time when the King of Ruin was not in control. When the Garleans were not using his village as a staging ground. When he might have had a normal life. He took a deep breath of the cool air, and let it out slowly, sighing as he shook his head. “I can only imagine.”

“Maybe you won’t have to,” Conrad said softly, motioning to the Warrior of Light beneath them, to the small contingent of Eorzean Grand Company members milling about, providing aid or training to the resistance. “For once, Eorzea is taking interest in our plight, the city states are sending aid. They took the wall-”

“-and paid dearly for it,” Bryn’s voice had more bite than he meant, and he saw Conrad’s face fall, the pain evident in his expression.

“Aye, that we did. Papalymo was as much a friend of mine as he was to you and yours.” Bryn was silent in the wake of that admission, and it was many, many seconds before he broke the silence.

“There was a time I was ready to turn my back on my home, to forget I ever hailed from here, to stay in Eorzea and see where it took me. But seeing this…” He gestured to the resistance, and shook his head. “This reminded me there is something worth fighting for here.”

Conrad nodded, in understanding, his eyes softening. “Thank you for agreeing to fight with us.”

Bryn rose, and shouldered his rifle, glancing at Conrad as he grunted in reply, “Thank me after we finish this fight.” And he strode towards the winding path that led back down to Rhalgr’s Reach and his waiting friends, new and old.

Day 1 - Steer

“Come on.”

Featherflame squawked in protest, her red feathers ruffling as she shook her body, and attempted for the umpteenth time to unseat her rider, a rather frustrated and worn out Brynhorn Fiske. The large soldier squeezed his knees tight, hanging on, holding on to her by sheer will and strength, almost falling off the side. He growled with frustration, pulling on the reins as Featherflame jerked her head to the side in the opposite direction, feisty as fire as she squawked again and crouched.

The next second, the pair of powerful legs launched upward, sent Bryn flying up out of the saddle, and had him roaring with surprise as he sailed through air, and landed hard on his side. The wind exploded from his lungs, leaving him wheezing and groaning on the ground, eyes wide as he rolled onto his back, hands clenching at the grass and dirt under him as he let out a pitiful wheeze, and finally managed to get his breath back with a gasping inhale. Slowly rolling onto his side, he pushed up, looking up at the Chocobo as she shook her head, bit hard at the bit in her beak, and shook her head about, sending the reigns whipping back and forth. Annoyed, displeased, upset. Understandable, considering Featherflame was once a wild and free Chocobo not too long ago.

Bryn slowly rose up, pressing up into a plank, pulling his legs up under him, and standing, brushing off his coat as he turned to face the Chocobo. She was still preoccupied, biting the bit harder, actually holding still to chomp over and over on it, but it didn't budge. At least not until Bryn approached with raised hands, motioning for her to calm just like the riding instructor had suggested.

Featherflame stopped, head cocking, staring at the approaching Hyur as he lifted a hand, and gently brushed her beak. For a moment, she relaxed, calmed under his touch, that unspoken bond between the two evident, and the reason why he was so adamant about training her himself.

They had met on the burning fields of the Carteneau Flats, right after Dalamud had fallen.

Right after Bryn thought he lost everything.

And Featherflame had nothing more to lose.

Bryn reached up, touching the scar over his left eye, the one his mount had given him in a fit of panic when they chanced upon each other in the burning fields. He couldn't blame her, she was trying to survive. But it did remind him of how he had gotten her to trust him the first time.

And that he had ridden her without all the fancy bobs and whistles.

Carefully, he removed the bit, and Featherflame clacked her beak, eyeing him with curious intelligence as he shifted the bridle, the reins, and kept them around her beak and head. It left her mouth free, free to move, but also offered him the control and use of the reins. A moment later, he stepped to the side, slinging his leg up and over, onto Featherflame, onto the saddle, and positioning himself comfortably. He sat there, let the Chocobo cluck and click, a sharp fweeee, and then he picked up the reins.

A gentle tug, like the tap on her neck when he had hung half off her barely conscious, and she responded, starting out in a slow trot to the left, just as he had guided. Tug to the right, and she responded again, calm and steady. And he chuckled.

“So it was the bit, hm?” He patted her long neck, and she ruffled her red feathers, in reply.

He spent a long time just riding her around, getting her accustomed to him, and as he lead her back into the stables, he patted her neck and looked into her red eyes, his silver ones gleaming. “Well what do you know, just takes a gentle hand to steer.” And Featherflame let out a sharp fweeee in agreement.

Day 10 - Stable

Stable.

Is that what this…was?

Bryn lifted his face into the air, the gentle breeze of the salt water blowing over his face, filling his nostrils with the scent of the sea, and his ears with the sound of crashing waves. It was so peaceful, calm, repetitive and simple.

And he was enjoying it.

When was the last time he had enjoyed the simple things in life? When war or gods or some world threatening event had not demanded his attention? When he was able to just…be?

Maybe those brief days and weeks in Gridania. Maybe with the early Scions.

But even those times, he would not consider himself stable enough to really enjoy them. Not with the beast locked inside, the constant strain of learning to control it. No, those fond memories were tainted with his own problems.

Now, though, there was nothing but happiness. Nothing but time. Nothing but connection.

His silver eyes gleamed as his neatly kept hair ruffled in the breeze, and his mind turned to Elu, dwelling on her for a long moment before he decided that yes, she had a big part of convincing him that life was good. Was worth living and not just…surviving.

Even if his thoughts did echo the words of a haughty Lamb of Dalamud, they were true, and after a moment of reflection, he rose from his seat in the sand, and turned back towards the shared house he and Elu were staying in.

And as he walked, he decided he liked stable.

Day 2 - Horizon

There was something so perfect about feeling the sun rise on his face that made Kaleh'a Quickdraw swear sometimes he was born into the wrong Miqo'te clan.

His eyes were closed, face upturned, facing east, sitting high in a sturdy oak tree on a branch and waiting for the warmth to hit him without having to see it. It was one of his favorite things to do, despite growing up and still following the Keeper of the Moon faith and customs. Sure, he loved the moon, Menphina, a strong believer in the Lover, but the sun…

He could feel it now, tickling his blonde hair, kissing the white tips, and he swore, swore it was like the kiss of the moon. Warm, kind, the dawn of a new day, a fresh start, filled with the scent of the forest all around him. He could smell the leaves and the wood under him, the dirt of the forest floor far below, and the creeping warmth now hitting his forehead. His lips twitched, upwards in a smile, feeling and seeing as the backs of his eyelids lit up, the sun finally reaching them, turning them orange, and he could see his own spiderwebbing veins through them.

The sun crept higher, and the warmth on his face continues to grow, until his face was fully lit, and a breeze blew through his hair, across his face, from right to left. North.

Slowly, he turned his face, facing the direction of the wind, his right cheek warm as the sun kept rising, and his ear flicked as he opened his turquoise blue eyes and stared out into the morning. He slowly grinned, spotting something, and his blonde tail flicked as the lion’s tip curled up, and then flicked out. Right as he let go of the branch, dropped backwards, and fell.

His hands grabbed the branch beneath him, swinging down, branch to branch, booted feet thudding firmly, squarely on the branches, near the trunk, catching the next branch with his hands and then dropping, over and over, practiced and smooth. His tail was a little radar, and balance, feeling the branches, the trunk, keeping him from tipping over and plummeting the 50 or so fulm to the ground. It only took him a few more seconds to drop the rest of the way, landing squarely on him feet, and startling the morning watch of his small traveling party, the Wood Wailer guard looking up from behind his mask and scowling.

“When did you…” the guard started, and then stopped, shrugging, shifting his spear on his shoulder, and then muttering something about stupid Miqo'te Keepers.

Kaleh'a decided the morning was too beautiful to warrant a response to that.

“Well,” he said instead, picking up his bow and arrow from beside his already rolled pack, “I know where we are going today!”

“Oh, really?” The Wailer said sarcastically, and the blonde Miqo'te rolled his eyes.

“Yes yes, I saw something interesting. Smoke, small and concentrated. Looks like a single campfire. Likely your poachers.” And he pointed, through the trees and woods and shrubbery of the Black Shroud, north. “So, we go that way!”

And despite all his grumbling, the Wailer roused their three other companions, and everyone readied with their new direction in mind. Together, the small band struck off towards the horizon, towards adventure, with an overly chipper Kaleh'a in the lead.

Reblog this if it’s okay to DM you and shoot the friendship shot.