Day 18 - Hackneyed

Day 18 - Hackneyed

"May Menphina guide you."

"I'd prefer she didn't."

Kaleh'a nearly choked on the air he was breathing at the grumbled reply he got from Bryn, the Keeper of the Moon visibly unsure what to do or say in response to that. It was such a common phrase, just a simple one to wish good luck on a companion or friend, and to have it so abruptly turned on him like that... "But why!?" He asked back in shock, and Bryn snorted.

"If that hackneyed phrase did anything to help, I would have had a much different life." He shifted on his feet, shrugging as he sighed. "You know my story, my life. I prayed to the gods for years and they never answered."

"But that doesn't mea-" Kaleh'a took a deep breath, and calmed himself, his tail flicking about in agitation, and then slowly calmed, letting his mind formulate a thought, and he finally took in a deep breath and sighed. "Just because they don't answer, doesn't mean they don't care."

"They have an odd way of showing they care."

Kaleh'a couldn't exactly fight that comment, since the truth was they really didn't answer very often. He couldn't remember the last time Menphina had made her presence known to him, but he did know she had reached out. "Okay, maybe they don't always make themselves known, but they do! I have felt Menphina! I'm moon-kissed!" He reached up, brushed his hair, the white tips of his bangs, and Bryn shook his head.

"Moon-kissed... Fine, you argue they exist, and perhaps they do, but what makes them different from a Primal?" Kaleh'a scoffed, and Bryn raised an eyebrow. "No, I'm serious. Tell me, what makes them different than a Primal?"

"You can't be serious!" Kaleh'a was incredulous, pacing back and forth, tail flicking, ears up at attention, his face twisting and contorting, his hands pounding together. "The Twelve are universally recognized as deities! They aren't primals, they aren't twisted, they don't enthral us!"

Bryn was silent, for a long moment, and he slowly crossed his arms. "No, they don't. But they also don't answer when we pray. If you were to ask me, I can see why the beast tribes are so infatuated with their summoning. To them, their god answers."

Bryn slowly leaned back against the tree behind him, sighing heavily, and staring at his boots. "I get it. You believe so hard that your goddess is real, that she watches over you. But to me... I prayed when my father beat me. I prayed when my father beat my mother. I prayed when Garlemald invaded. I prayed when death hovered over me. All I got for answers was pain, suffering, a...curse. Why would I believe in your Menphina, when she is so closely tied to my curse?"

Kaleh'a was silent, his eyes staring at his own boots, tail drooping, and he didn't say anything. For ten seconds...twenty...thirty. His gaze lifted, and his eyes gleamed with confidence. "I don't buy it. Just because they don't answer, doesn't mean they aren't real. And I've heard Menphina, her voice, felt her power. She is real, I believe that, I know that. Because I have felt her. But you...you haven't." And his face fell, and he kicked at the dirt under his boot. "You have no reason to believe, to think they are real. But you also have no reason to believe they are Primals."

The Miqo'te's eyes snapped up to Bryn's with a fire in them, crossing his arms too. "You prayed, and prayed, probably even offered yourself up to them, but they didn't answer. They didn't get summoned. So maybe...you can't believe in them, but you also can't compare them to a primal. So I hope one day, you actually feel the touch of the moon, and understand why I believe."

The Hyur stared with unwavering silver eyes into those turquoise ones that gleamed like starlight, and for a moment, it felt like he could understand. But he knew that he was not yet ready to believe twelve gods stood by as his homeland was raided, and thousands killed. Still...he could give the archer some points for his argument. "Fine," he rumbled out, uncrossing his arms. "Not Primals, and maybe real. But if I meet Menphina, or Hydaelyn, or any other deity... I have some strong words for them."

Kaleh'a grinned, and nodded, shrugging in passive agreement. "Fair enough! But uh... Promise not to kill Menphina?" Bryn just laughed, which did very little to comfort the Keeper.

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.

PSA: IF WE’RE IN A MUTUAL AND YOU WANT TO THROW A STARTER AT ME BECAUSE YOUR MUSE WANTS MINE OR YOU JUST WANT TO ROLEPLAY IN GENERAL —- JUST DO IT. I PROMISE, I’LL SCREAM WITH HAPPINESS IF YOU DO. YOU’RE NOT BOTHERING ME ; I WANT TO ROLEPLAY WITH ALL OF THE PEOPLE I FOLLOW. OKAY, YOU’RE ALL WONDERFUL. PCE.

Reading Preferences

Reading Preferences - Brynhorn Fiske

BOLD genres your character reads. Italicize genres your character occasionally peruses. Strikethrough if they absolutely won’t touch it.

art | biography | business | chick lit | children’s | classics | comics | contemporary | cookbooks | crime | fantasy | fiction | gay and lesbian | graphic novels | historical fiction | history | horror | humor and comedy | memoir | music | mystery | nonfiction | paranormal | philosophy | poetry | psychology | religion | romance | science | science fiction | self help | suspense | spirituality | sports | thriller | travel | young adult | warfare

Bryn didn't learn to read until after he left Ala Mihgo. And even then, it was mostly so he could read missives from the Maelstrom officers, or a map. Most of his reading is practical, with a purpose, but he later in life had someone convince him to read more enjoyable books. Even if his enjoyment comes from puzzling out a mystery before the writer lays it all out.

Reading Preferences - Kaleh'a Quickdraw

art | biography | business | chick lit | children’s | classics | comics | contemporary | cookbooks | crime | fantasy | fiction | gay and lesbian | graphic novels | historical fiction | history | horror | humor and comedy | memoir | music | mystery | nonfiction | paranormal | philosophy | poetry | psychology | religion | romance | science | science fiction | self help | suspense | spirituality | sports | thriller | travel | young adult | warfare

Kaleh'a is...well he enjoys the simple pleasures of life. Reading is something he picked up at a young age and ran with. He would read just about anything he could get his hands on! Except for the stuffy old history or biography stuff. That bored him to tears. So while he is well read, he might not be well read in what you would expect...won't stop him from talking your ear off about it!

Tagged by: @mimble-sparklepudding

Tagging: @voidtouched-blue @the-crimson-rose @the-sycophant @nhaneh @luck-and-larceny @13th-dragon-prince

Day 25 - Perpetuity

"Sergeant Fiske!"

Brynhorn Fiske paused, his Maelstrom hat under his arm, the red and black uniform once more worn by the ex-soldier as he met the eyes of a young officer, the soldier actually saluting Bryn first as the old dog chuckled, and saluted back, the smart, sharp, straight right hand grazing his right brow before they both dropped the common greeting. "Sorry sir," the younger man blurted out, speaking rapidly, "didn't mean to surprise you by calling out, but I saw you and had to talk with you!"

Bryn turned fully towards the man who, by all accounts, outranked him, but the respect he saw in his eyes was genuine, and he had a good idea why. The Silver Wolf was well known now among the ranks of the Maelstrom, both for his time in the corp, and for the years after helping them. Now, with the threat of Ultima dealt with, a dragon slain, and a relatively peaceful future stretching ahead, Bryn had returned from his snowy vigil in Ishgard to receive an honor bestowed only on a few lucky soldiers.

"Speak, Lieutenant," he chuckled out, and motioned for the man to walk with him. "Time is short before the ceremony begins."

"Right!" The young man jumped forward into step with Bryn, and for a few steps, seemed to be visibly wrestling with his words, before finally sighing. "I have a...problem. Or really a short coming. I'm a Lieutenant, already, but I'm so young that a lot of my men don't respect me. I know that you were given a command very young too, Sergeant. So how did you earn their respect?"

Those intense, brown eyes lifted to silver ones as Bryn met his gaze, reaching up to gently stroke his well kept beard, humming thoughtfully. "Respect, hm?" A tricky subject. He remembered how he, a fresh faced twenty year old, holding a rifle he barely knew how to use, had stared at the ten men and women meant to be under his command, and felt so...small before them. Like he didn't deserve this honor or their respect. But he also remembered how he had earned it. "When was the last time you shared a meal with them?"

"Shared a - what?! I eat with the officers!" He seemed shocked to be even asked such a question, and Bryn stopped to look at him with a sharp eye.

"That's your issue. You are separating yourself from them." The Lieutenant flinched slightly at the harsh tone in Bryn's voice, and he relented slightly, sighing heavily. "Look, they are all acutely aware that you outrank them. That you, somehow, so young, could order them to lay down their lives and they would be expected to do so. What they don't know is if they can trust you. And that means you need to ask yourself a question. Do you want to be their leader, or do you want to be their dictator?"

For a moment, he watched as the young man's head wrapped around the question, worked through it, and formulated an answer, his mouth opening to say something, but was silenced by a firm pat on the back from Bryn. "Don't tell me," he chuckled out, "tell them." And after a second of embarrassed nodding and a quick salute, the Lieutenant was gone, off to find his command as Bryn continued on his way towards the ceremony.

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"Sergeant Brynhorn Fiske."

Rising, his hat under his arm, Bryn took the few steps forward on the makeshift stage the Maelstrom was using the Limsa Lominsa to hold their ceremony, the applause of both civilians, soldiers, and veterans filling the air as Eynzahr Slafyrsyn turned with medal in hand towards Bryn, the old Sea Wolf's eyes gleaming as he pinned it on the red and black of Bryn's uniform. "Apologies Merlwyb herself couldn't be here, sir, but she sends her regards and congratulations."

Bryn chuckled, and shook his head, his voice soft as he shook his old Grand Marshal's hand. "It is of no consequence, sir. The honor alone is enough."

"Speaking of, she asked me to impart another gift besides the distinguished service medal." Bryn's eyebrows shot up, but Eynzahr was already turning to the crowd, and announcing loudly the second gift for Bryn.

"By order of the Chief Admiral, Sergeant Brynhorn Fiske has received a distinction for his actions during the fall of Dalamud, and the many years of working with us and the Scions to protect Eorzea. As a result, despite leaving our ranks, he is to maintain and hold his title as Storm Sergeant Second Class, in perpetuity! Thank you, sir, for your service!"

The roar from the crowd as the Grand Marshal turned and saluted Bryn barely registered for the Silver Wolf, his salute more ingrained instinct than anything else, his expression one of shock as he tried to form words to say something, but already the Grand Marshal was moving on to the next person on the stage, and Bryn dutifully retook his seat.

Storm Sergeant, Second Class, in perpetuity. Until death, and after, Bryn would hold that rank, and be able to leverage it wherever he went. It was truly, one of the highest honors. Almost made him wish he had made it to a higher rank...

He jumped as his linkpearl went off, and he quickly lifted a hand to his ear and answered, listening, nodding, and confirming he would be on his way. Perfect timing too, as the last man received his award and the crowd clapped. It was a simple matter to slip off the stage and head for the aetheryte plaza, humming to himself.

"Well...it never ends, does it?" He muttered dryly, but still, his feet carried him surely back towards Ishgard, and whatever new threat existed.

Yeah, they Bi,

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