Voidtouched-blue--[Previous]

voidtouched-blue--[Previous]

"A moment before you go, Sergeant. Do you see that?" He leaned in closer, glancing quickly up at the Sergeant beside the other side of the bed and pointing once more at the reddened gash on the back of her shoulder. Glittering specks of aether filtered out of the wound with the gentle glow peaking through from underneath the injured tissues. Even under the subtle light, he could see both sides knitting back together beyond his stitching. It was slow, but faster than normal healing factors. "Yet another item to include in my report." He sighed.

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

He barely reacted when the Medicus returned, but he was careful to watch, and see, observe and learn what he could, and he learned that the Medicus was skilled. Very skilled.

While the Garlean Medicus was pleased with the advancements of Garlean medicine, Bryn felt a bit less fond of it, rubbing at his wrapped hand as he frowned at the man stitching up his charge. Certainly, it was needed, but with someone so talented working on a slave, on an...experiment, just how important was Cyra to these people?

The dismissal would have been ignored, if it wouldn't have drawn more questions than Bryn would like to answer, rising from his seat and shouldering his rifle with a grunt, heading for the door before he was called back. Called back to see the fresh stitches already knitting themselves back together, flesh to flesh, far too fast to be normal. And that chilled the soldier to the bone.

He had seen that before, the rapid healing, the way wounds seemed to disappear to soon. No, not exactly what was happening here, but far too similar to be a coincidence, and it proved a struggle to keep his voice calm. "She's...healing herself?" Framed as a question, really a statement of surprise. She was healing herself right in front of them, unconscious and sedated. Which meant whatever drug they were pumping her full of to force these changes.

"Yes," he mumbled out at the mention of the report, another report of his own already writing itself in his head, turning on his heels to head towards the door. "Call if you need me," he said simply, and pushed out of the door, beelining for his room, to add another page to his report.

Someone, anyone, had to know outside of this place.

Day 14 - Telling

"What gave it away?"

Bryn sat flat on the snow under him, the black and detailed helmet of the Garlean Empire resting next to his black armored legs, so stark compared to the white forest around him. He shared the embankment he was hidden behind with an archer, dressed head to toe in speckled white clothes, pants, boots, long sleeve shirt, jacket, even his hat, all built to blend into their environment and keep them hidden. And given how quickly the blonde Miqo'te had shucked the hat off, he did not like the chosen attire.

"This has to be the ugliest outfit I have ever worn. Period. The end." Kaleh'a grumbled a bit more, before he glanced at Bryn and lifted an eyebrow, registering the question a bit late as he hummed. "Gave what away? You've lost me."

Bryn grunted, silent for a moment, as he carefully checked over his armor. Was something out of place? But the entire thing was just as non-descript and intricate as any common foot soldier of the Garlean Empire, a perfect disguise for his infiltration of a Castrum. Blend in, get in, gather info, get out. And as a Hyur from Ala Mihgo, conscripts from his homeland were common enough. After checking all was in order, he asked, "How did you know it was me?"

"Ohhh! That? That was easy," and the message runner pulled out a piece of smoked lamb jerky and bit into it, leaving the ex-soldier flabbergasted as the Miqo'te seemed perfectly fine with not elaborating. Bryn lasted all of a minute before exasperatedly blurting out again.

"But how?"

Kaleh'a paused his snack fest, and gave the older man a look, shaking his head and shrugging. "Well, first, the mask doesn't really hide your eyes. The silver bleeds through, kinda cool actually. Top that off with your scent - which, by the Twelve do they let you bathe? - and your gait, it was all very telling."

Bryn fell silent for a long moment, and then softly muttered, "I have a tell."

"Huh? No! Not at all!" Kaleh'a laughed, finishing off his jerky and pulling out a letter and handing it to Bryn. "Look, I'm a message runner. I have to recognize who I'm delivering to by sight, sound, voice and scent. Sometimes with just one of those things. Throwing armor over your entire body, hiding your face, and changing the way you talk isn't going to throw me off. Anyone else? Sure! Now, hurry up and take this letter so I can get out of this frozen wasteland."

Bryn snatched the letter from the Miqo'te's hand, his short, nearly buzzed hair starting to ice with his helmet off already, and grumbled some more about Kaleh'a's deductions, reading the letter carefully...and scowling. "Should I ret-"

"They both verbally and explicitly told me to not let you return, and that it was mentioned in the letter." The archer rolled his eyes at the undercover man, and snatched the letter back, shredding it and scattering it in the snow. "Alright, now, I'm gone! Good luck!"

And before Bryn could object, the wily Miqo'te was gone, swinging up into a tree and darting along its branches, leaving Bryn to mutter into the silence, "I have a tell..."

Day 28 - Deleterious

Sitting in Ishgard, surrounded by the wreckage caused by dragons, Bryn felt like he had not done enough.

No, not just in this moment, that would be an incorrect characterization of his feelings. It was more like...he had never done enough. And if he had never done enough, why did he deserve this life he lived, or to consider himself a part of the Scions?

And as he sat there on the rubble, it seemed more and more right what he had done, to strike out on his own, and to leave behind his friends, his past, and that feeling of...well, uselessness.

But no matter how hard he tried to do that, to just walk away, someone, or something, always pulled him back. This time, in the form of an annoying goggled Elezen, hooded and contemplating as he stared down at the sitting Hyur.

"Are though injured?" Urianger asked, somehow without a hint of detectable concern in his voice, which made Bryn glance up with a scowl.

"No," he growled back, "and I do not seek 'thy council.'" His retort stung, he knew it would, but Urianger did not waver, or turn away, instead humming almost thoughtfully, a finger tapping his tilted cheek.

"You may not seek it, but you need it."

Bryn rose abruptly, glaring at the goggled man, and shaking his head. "The last thing I need is you analyzing my life and telling me what and how I went wrong."

"Then do not hear me out for yourself, but for them."

Them. He knew who he meant, and Bryn froze in his place, halfway to walking away, before he slowly turned back, and glared again at Urianger. "Fine... I will listen."

For a moment, the tall Elezen was silent, and then he tilted his head. "Why, Bryn, do you act the way you do? I think you know why, but cannot stop thyself. Simply because you do not realize how deleterious your actions are to thyself, and thine own."

Bryn stared at him for a long moment, until he raised an eyebrow slowly and rumbled out, "I'm sorry, what?"

Urianger seemed befuddled for a moment, then let out a soft "Ah," and rephrased. "What I mean, is that your actions, while good intentioned, harm both yourself, and those you care for." Bryn visibly bristled, and Urianger lifted his hands placatingly. "You said you would listen. So please..." Bryn calmed, slightly, and Urianger let his hands fall. "I do not blame you for what occurred, with the Crystal Braves and the following madness. In fact, I am pleased you were away, that you remained unentangled by that mess. But Bryn...where were you when the call for help went out?"

The way the Hyur gritted his teeth was evident, and his gaze flicked to those goggles, and he pointed a finger at Urianger. "Do not question what I was doing, when you know full well I left and did not wish to be contacted! And you know the moment I heard I came back!"

"And left as soon as you arri-"

"I WAS NOT NEEDED!" He roared back, and a shiver shot down his spine, before the Hyur sucked in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "I...was not needed. Everyone was safe. And everyone had someone to take care of them."

Urianger was silent, for a long moment, and then sighed. "You are...incredibly dense sometimes."

Bryn looked like he was about to punch the poor man.

"What made you think you weren't wanted? Just because they are cared for, does not mean they don't still desire your presence. I would argue that your presence was more highly sought then others. Yet you chose to leave. How do you think that made them both feel?"

Bryn's fist clenched, the stupid finger tapping Elezen just observing him calmly, until the Hyur sucked in a slow breath, and let it out slowly, closing his eyes in almost...shame. "You're right." That was all he could say, when faced with his choices, and he opened his eyes slowly. "I couldn't be there. Not after I wasn't there...originally. After I learned what had happened to them."

He took a deep breath, and sighed it out again, and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Urianger with a harsh glare. "You know, you could always be kinder when calling someone out."

Urianger chuckled, and shook his head. "Tis not my way. And you appreciate the fact that it isn't." Bryn just grunted in disagreement. Or perhaps it was agreement.

Day 19 - Taken

"Please, anyone please help! She's gone missing! Please!"

It wasn't everyday that the Drowning Wench was interrupted by begging parents holding out a drawing of their daughter, a young thing likely no more than ten or twelve, desperation written on their faces as the plied adventurers and ship-hands for help. And for the most part, they were ignored.

Bryn sipped his drink as he watched the family make their rounds, the thirty-something grizzled man sitting alone without food or drink, currently in-between odd jobs and with so little gil in his pocket he was more or less ready to jump on anything the tavern could offer. He just had one small problem.

With his torn coat, harsh silver eyes, and unkempt beard, he did not exactly look approachable. And it was more or less confirmed when the two parents glanced his way, stared with wide eyes, and then shuffled on to the next patron, who gave her much of the same answer as everyone else. "As the Maelstrom." "Go to the Yellowjackets."

"We tried!" the father yelled, his outburst drawing more attention as he gripped the paper of his daughter's face tighter, crinkling the paper as tears streamed down his cheeks. "They said she ran away! That she isn't missing! But we know our daughter! We know her!"

"She's just a child..." the mother gasped out, somehow holding it together better than her husband, the two Hyur making a pitiful scene standing there as Bryn slowly rose, and strode towards them. For a moment, they didn't even realize the shadow of the man behind them was there, but when they turned to the six foot, black haired ex-soldier, they visibly cowered away. But Bryn did not step back.

"Let me see," he rumbled out, holding out his hand for the drawing, and hesitantly, as if doubtful of the help standing right in front of them, the mother slowly held out the drawing, and Bryn took it carefully. For a long moment, he studied the page, the face of the young girl, noting her distinguishing features, looking up and asking, "Her eyes, what color? And her hair."

"B-brown... both of them."

"Like tree bark," the mother added, a glance shared between her and her husband, as Bryn noted the mother's similar hair color, and the father's eyes.

"Understood." He handed back the drawing, turned on his heel, shouldered his rifle, and left, without a word beyond that simple declaration, leaving the family confused, and more than a little bit worried. At least, until the man they had stopped hounding when Bryn approached chuckled.

"It's your lucky day, the Silver Wolf has a nose for these things. Trust me, he will find her."

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They sat, and waited, for what felt like days, but was hours. The two distraught parents only grew more and more worried as the man didn't return, as no updates were forthcoming, and as tavern goers got up and left. It was almost closing time, the sun outside setting, and to them, it felt like they were no closer to finding their daughter. At least, until they heard the heavy thud of boots on planks, and Bryn strode through the door with their daughter cradled in his arms.

The scream of terror from the mother was understandable, her daughter appearing pale, limp, and lifeless in the hardy man's arms, but the scream roused her, and she opened a pair of bright brown eyes to look at her mom and dad, and weakly reach for them. They leapt up, sprinting to Bryn and taking their daughter from his arms, hugging her tight as she did the same in return, tears all around as Bryn stood silently by, waiting for the moment to end as he set his rifle down against the back of a chair.

It was the father who broke first, looking up at the silver eyed marksman and gasping out, "Thank you! Thank you sir! Where did you find her?!"

"The Sahagin spawning grounds," he rumbled out, and gestured towards the girl's wet clothes. "She was tied up, likely to be a thrall for their god should he be summoned. You're lucky she didn't become food...or worse." He saw the father shiver, but he still stood straight, looked Bryn in the eyes.

"Anything, name it. It is yours, for saving her!"

"Then a meal and a drink will suffice," the soldier replied firmly, gesturing towards the tavern keep. "They know my favorites, and it won't cost you more than 50 gil." The man looked floored, the price, in his eyes, likely too low. But for Bryn, in that moment, it was all he needed to survive, to make it another day.

He saw the young girl look up at him, with both thanks, and another emotion. She had seen him throw himself at the Sahagin and tear through them to get to her. She had seen the recklessness of how he fought. And he got the feeling, that somehow, she knew. That pushing forward one day at a time was all he could do in that moment. Anymore...was too much for the storied man.

At least tonight, he wouldn't go hungry, and she would be safe and sound in her home.

Yeah, they Bi,

Keep scrolling

Day 23 - On Cloud Nine

[Minor Heavensward Spoilers]

Kaleh'a was in awe.

Complete and utter awe.

"Wait so...the Moogles have just lived up here?!" The Miqo'te did a slow turn, taking in the Moghome as Moogles floated by. When the request to update the Moogles in the sky came in from the Scions, he had jumped at the opportunity. The break in fighting small dragons in the bitter cold of Ishgard was a welcome one, and the ride up into the literal clouds was...stunning. Mogleo floated beside him, the little puff ball on his head wiggling back and forth, and occasionally making a little "kupo" noise as they watched Kaleh'a take in the sights.

"Amazing, isn't it, kupo!" The Moogle flitted about on his tiny wings, bobbing up and down with his tiny rogue hat on his head. " Chieftain Moglin keeps us safe, kupo, and we stay safe! ...mostly." He did a little spin, and then bombed his head. "Sorry for pointing my knife at you! Strangers are dangerous, kupo!"

"Heh, I've had worse," Kaleh'a chuckled out, and shrugged, before he rummaged into his pocket and pulled out a letter. "But, the Scions did ask me to give this to your Chieftain."

"Chieftain Moglin, kupo! He won't let you see him, kupo." His wings wilted, and Mogleo floated sadly around Kaleh'a. "He's very suspicious, very safe! Kupo!"

Kaleh'a frowned, and tapped the letter against his hand, humming thoughtfully. "I get it, with the dragons and everything, better safe than sorry. But I thought he trusted the Scions?"

"He trusts that friendly adventurer, kupo! Others...less so." The little rogue floated around the Miqo'te again, and then paused, and turned to him. "I could give him the letter, kupo! He'd trust me! Kupo-kupo!"

Kaleh'a had to pause for a moment, the idea of handing off the letter to someone else not exactly his style. He always preferred to hand it off from his hand to the recipient, but for this specific case... "Alright, that would work. It's just a general report of how things are going. I'll watch you deliver it, and then do you mind if I go over to the landing? Something about looking over the clouds..."

Mogleo spun on the spot, and let out a happy "Kupo!", before grabbing the letter and darting off towards the Chieftain, leaving Kaleh'a standing there mildly stunned and then grinning. He shook his head, chuckling, and headed for the landing, and the steep drop towards the ground below.

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Staring down into the passing clouds, he couldn't help feeling that awe again. Some drifted up, kissed the edge of the land, and he swung his feet through the cool fluff, smiling. It was...like literally walking on cloud nine, and it gave him this giddy feeling of being a kid again. Of exploring, wide eyed and bushy tailed, finding something new. And this was so uniquely different that it sparked all of that again.

His ears flicked in the cool breeze, and his tail dipped over the age, trailing in the clouds before he heard the bobbing sounds of an approaching Moogle, and he turned his head to see -

"Chieftain Moglin!" He leapt up, brushing of his hands, and giving a short salute then bow, spluttering out to the larger Moogle, "I wasn't expecting to hear from you personally!"

"Kupo, consider yourself lucky!" The Chieftain crowed, Mogleo floating beside him. "Today, you speak with me, kupo! Your letter mentioned you by name, and said you were trustworthy, kupo, so I trust you!"

"I...well thank you," Kaleh'a murmured, bowing again, which the Chieftain seemed to appreciate. "Was there specific you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes! Kupo! We, Moogles, wish to offer our aid to fight the dragons! And ask you to deliver that message to the friendly adventurer! Kupo-kupo!"

He grinned, and nodded, his tail flicking excitedly. "Of course! I can relay that message! I guess that means we might fight together, huh Mogleo?"

Mogleo let out an excited little twirl, waving his dagger as if fending off an attack, and Kaleh'a laughed. He liked this place, perhaps he would have to come back.