The Future of Ginal's Eorzean Writing.

For the last couple of years, I've been working on an ongoing story featuring the character I play in Final Fantasy XIV, and that of a good friend of mine.  The purpose of these stories have been twofold: to translate my role playing experiences into a cohesive story, and to practice my general writing skills to prepare for more serious writing endeavors I always dreamed of.  Over time, I've gathered a small group of readers who have regularly stopped by to check for the latest chapters of my current story arch.  It is to this wonderfully dedicated group for which I write this post.

I regret to inform you all, that after much difficult thought, I will not be finishing my Everheart storyline.  I am genuinely sorry if this disappoint you.

There are many reasons for this decision, but I'll address the primary two:

The first thing to understand is, for quite some time I've been trying and failing to contend with a near-crippling depression.  As far as my writing is concerned, this has contributed to a gradually decreased quality in my prose, making it harder to deliver a truly engaging narrative.  The last few chapters of Everheart, for example, have not been among my best sections.  Until I'm able to work my way out of this state, my writing will only suffer more and more.

The second thing I need to explain, is that the version of Ginal and Selah I write in the current stories, no longer properly represent who and what the characters have evolved into over time.  You see, over the course of many role playing encounters and brain-storming sessions, Ginal and Selah both have grown and evolved well beyond what they are when you read about them.  Unfortunately, the stories I've written have locked those versions of the characters into a certain path with certain details, and I am unable to properly alter them without making drastic leaps and disconnects within my established writing.

So what does this mean for my stories and my blog?  Am I going to just fade away and let everything here die?

Not at all.

For the immediate time, I'm trying to take steps to alleviate my general state of being.  Things like trying to get more rest and more exercise, and do better with how I use my time.  Once I get to place where I actually feel, more or less, good about my life again, then I have every intention of returning to my writing.

Once I do get back to my writing, I will be starting over from the beginning, using more definitive versions of the characters and more properly thought out story archs.  I've spent a lot of time revisiting the themes, subject matter, characterization and direction of these stories, and I'm confident that a restart would offer what you could call the "true" version of the stories of Ginal and Selah.

Thanks so much for reading this, and all other stories on this blog.  As always, I welcome any and all of your feedback, be it comments or emails, and feel free to find me on FFXIV, server Malaboro.

--Ginal

Everheart: Chapter 26

Dreams.  Nightmares.  Memories of a life long forgotten.

Phantoms of this life that linger and haunt.

A decade of restless searching and anguished isolation.  Aimlessly existing, until at last, a purpose found, and the strength to live.

All now culminated in a journey towards a battle Selah wished she never had to fight, risking the life of the woman she never had dreamed she'd love so dearly.  All while friends and allies she never thought she could count on kept insisting on lending their aid.

The soldiers of Whitebrim were well trained and well equipped, and those of Elysande's and Timothy's mercenary groups were experienced and eager, but Selah and Ginal agreed that this battle was too much.  The risk of death felt very real, even for these two women with unnatural durability, glowing eyes and aetherial powers.  Neither of the lovers had any desire to see their hands stained with friendly blood.

Dinornis and Peridot cooed as they nuzzled each other, drawing a smile from Selah's lips.

"Fury take me, the whispers been true!"

The words shook Selah from her reverie, and to her chagrin, she found the stable hand on duty examining her eyes.

Should I yell "boo" and see what happens?

"Well, anyway," drawled the stable hand, "these two here spent all of the first couple days in here squawking and cawing at each other, n' sometimes kicking at the wall between their pens.  But then jus' yesterday, they up and settled down, started chirping n' cooing towards each other's pens."

Selah laughed as she pat Dinornis' beak, offering a small ball of greens before returning to secure the saddlebags on the bird's back.  Without hesitation, Peridot nudged Selah, the bird's eyes filled with displeasure.

"Right, right.  Sorry, girl." Selah apologized.  She quickly remedied the situation with a gift of greens to Ginal's mount.

The stable hand, a middle-aged hyur man with a pudgy physique and graying beard, wiped his hands on his brown linen tunic.  "I figure these two're taking a liking to each other fer mating.  Wouldn't recommend waitin' too long, now.  'Bos get right temperamental when they gotta wait, you know."

Neither the smirk, nor the comment could be held back from Selah's lips.  "Sounds like a certain miqo'te I know."

"What's that, lass?"

A throat cleared behind Selah, which was, to no surprise, Ginal.  The miqo'te's ears stood tall, twitching in annoyance.  Selah sighed heavily as Ginal strode past without a word, and began loading the contents of a small satchel into Peridot's saddle bag.

"If that's how you really feel, then I'll remember not to bother you anymore." the miqo'te finally spoke up.

"Kitten, I was only joking."

Only the chirps of a few chocobos filled the air, and judging by the sudden expression of awareness, Ginal seemed to finally realized that the stable hand was looking between the two and awkwardly anticipating the argument to come.  With a slight slump in her shoulders, Ginal turned back to Selah and squeezed her hand.

"Sorry, love."

"So am I, Kitten."

That..was the easiest resolution to any argument we've ever had.



Time's against us, isn't it?  Gods only know what that bastard's up to.  And we gotta get out of here before that Drillemont gets his troops together.

The blue of dawn was turning pink as the light crested over the mountains in the distance.  Only a handful of workers and soldiers walked the courtyard of the fortress, creating an almost solitary feel.  Peridot eagerly followed behind Ginal, with Selah and Dinornis trailing closely after.

Ginal's heart fluttered as Selah offered a smile, and promply sank at how obviously exhausted the smile was.

Sometimes I've been a selfish, needy bitch.  I've asked a lot of Selah...and I haven't always given back.  Gonna change that this time.

Two soldiers, their chain-link armor rustling with every step, suddenly slowed their pace as their route brought them near the couple.  Their eyes were wide with fear as Ginal knew they were examining the two women's eyes.   The morning's breeze carried a scent that seemed vaguely familiar, and Ginal wondered if one of the soldiers had met her in the recent fight.

"Was a mistake of Lord Drillemont, I tell you."  Ginal heard the whisper as she continued forward.  "Naught but witches, those two.  If not by Dragon, then surely voidsent."

Her ears twitched, tail sharply flicked, and lips pursed.  Anger simmered in her heart, and began to rise to her throat.

A hand gently fell onto her shoulder, and she turned to see Selah shaking her head. 

"Let it be.  We won't win them all over in one week, Kitten."

"Are you sure you're not simply trying to save face from the humiliation of defeat by a woman?"

The voice, a deep bass, firm and commanding, gave Ginal pause.  At once she was equally thrilled by the presence of its speaker, and fearful of the implication.  Locking eyes with Selah, she knew her beloved shared the sentiments.  Together they turned, and found Grezel confronting the soldiers, clad, as usual, in his spine-decorated armor.

"Master Dragoon, I..." stammered one of the soldiers.  "T-to what do you refer?"

Grezel nearly matched elezen women in height, and easily looked down upon the stammering man.  With arms folded across his chest, and lips drawn up in a sneer, his impatience with the soldier was palpable.

"Are you not a soldier of Ishgard?  Is it not your solemn vow to stand against the enemies of our people, chief among them dragons and their heretical thralls?!"

"I, well, y-yes..."

"And yet you and yours could not even stand to match two women?!  You had the advantage of numbers, physicality, knowledge of terrain!  What excuse could you possibly have, save for the fact that you're an embarrassment to our people?!"

The soldiers looked between each other and found no more words.  Heads lowered in shame was the only reply they could muster.

With a disapproving grunt and a thumb pointing over his shoulder, Grezel dismissed the men.  After a moment of watching them jog away in shame, he turned back to his friends, the sneer on his lips now morphed into a warm smile.

"Of course, I didn't truly mean all that, but he doesn't know you two as I do.  Still, shaming them was a great deal more fun than it should have been."

Ginal owed Grezel, at least in her heart.  He had been there, in her early days of struggle and training, as no one else had.  He had been mentor and family both, a brother in the truest spirit, and she loved him as such.  Of course she was happy to see him, even if they had asked him not to come.

She was also furious.  Furious at the disregard of her plea.  Furious at the knowledge that he would stand with her in the end, and risk his own life.  Furious enough to bear her canines and growl.

"Gods dammit, Grezel!  Didn't we say to stay away?  Didn't we?!"

Grezel smirked.  "If you think we're content to stay back and let you two face whatever is going on alone, then you don't know us at all."

A cooling relief swept through Ginal's heart, and found its way to her lips in a smile.  "You're insistent on watching out for me."

"Just because Selah watches your back, doesn't mean I can't still help.  Now then, you should know, the others will be here soon within the day.  Also, the soldiers assigned to the gates are instructed not to let you out until specifically cleared."  A quick stride put Grezel facing Selah, leaning in to address her in particular.  "So I suggest you rest.  Way I hear from Drillemonte, you'll need it."

Selah's reply was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, and it seemed all she could do was shake her head.  "Alright, alright, you have us.  I suppose I should have known this would happen, but I had hoped not."

Ginal wrapped her arms around her adopted sibling for a hug as best she could, armor permitting.  He replied with an affectionate pat on the head before heading away.

"I'll find you two when the others have arrived.  Don't waste your opportunity to recover."



It was a deep and restful sleep that only complete exhaustion can bring you.  It was good, as was the indulgence of a quiet cuddle in bed with Ginal, but the time for rest was over.

The clouds over Coerthas were uncharacteristically thin that night, allowing the moonshine to be particularly warm and inviting.  The angry winds had calmed to a playful breeze, and the nightly wolves' chorus seemed much less somber than normal.

"Calm before the storm?" Ginal asked.

"Probably."

Selah stared out the window of their infirmary room, her mind not truly seeing the moonlit mountains in the near distance.  Dread and uncertainty were building in her heart, making each passing moment longer and more terrifying than they may truly have been.

This is my fault anyway, is it not?  I was so desperate to be free of legal binding from him that I wasn't even thinking...  I should have just put my spear to his throat and made my demands.

Hands wrapped around Selah's waist, and Ginal nuzzled her back warmly.  "You're afraid."

"...I am.  Every time I think I'm finally getting on with my life, I'm reminded of how much I've hurt because of him."

A desperate, sullen anger surged through Selah's heart as she slammed her first onto the windowsill.  Her beloved's embrace tightened, and she began to purr affectionately.

"It's why I sought training as a Dragoon, did I ever tell you?"

"It never came up."

"The core principle of the Dragoon is to master stoicism, and learn true emotional control.  It's why I can seem so distant, Kitten."

Ginal's ears flicked against Selah's neck, and her breathing was softer than normal, the silent indication she was listening intently.  Her purring was soothing, and certainly helped Selah relax in the moment.

"You did what you had to do, Selah.  You found your ways to survive, even if you still hurt sometimes."  Ginal slid around between Selah and the window to lean up on her toes, her lips brushing the hyur's chin.  "It's okay to hurt, and be scared, as long as you remember I'm here.  I'll always be here.  You're my Lady, and I love you."

Before Selah could find the words to match her thoughts, Ginal had slipped away and was sauntering down the hall."The others are waiting for us."  She turned to blow a kiss, and was was gone.

Joyous tears streaked down Selah's cheeks, and quickly did she wipe them away.  "I love you, too, my Kitten.  Thank you."



It was hard to believe that, after what these people had gone through at her hands, Ginal would still be able to count any of them as her friends.  But, here they were, gathered and ready to go.  Elysande, Timothy, Grezel, Kraio, and the others.  

A welcoming fire blazed in the mess hall's giant fireplace, while mugs of drink and plates of the evening's meal were served up.  Under different circumstances, it would have been exactly the kind of informal gathering the miqo'te loved most.   Normal circumstances would have to wait, though.  Looking into Selah's eyes, and momentarily admiring the beauty of their glow, "normal" may no longer be a thing these two women would ever worry about again.

The open hall was empty of its normal residents, a kindness fulfilled on request, leaving just the collection of misfit mercenaries to occupy the lengthy benches.  While Drillemont's staff had graciously supplied them all with meals, the palpable restlessness that permeated the hall seemed to have removed most everyone's appetite.  All eyes and ears were focused intently upon Ginal and Selah.

A slight shifting of weight from one leg to another, then back, was the sign that confirmed to Ginal how uncomfortable Selah was right now.  Her face, with its normal, practiced stoic expression, was betrayed by her brows slightly drawn together.  It was distressing enough for Ginal to see that it made her suddenly search her mind for a way to get out of this, and spare Selah further embarrassment.

What if we just said "thanks for coming, and we'll see you soon," and left before they could react?  No...  They'd be chasing after us.  Would they listen if we told them to just stay here and wait?

"You know they wouldn't, darling.  Even after we almost killed them, they're still here with us.  Foolish lot."

Ginal knew her feral half was correct.  Their friends had come, despite warnings, requests and broken bones, and they wouldn't leave without good reason.

"So, ladies," Elysande began, "mind telling us what 's going on?"

A few grunts and mutters from their friends echoed the request.  Ginal gave a gentle squeeze to Selah's hand, and offered a reassuring nod.



Do they need to know everything?  The past lives, the aetherial alterations, the god-like beings toying with us?  Or should we just...  stick to emergency at hand?

Selah released her stress in a long sigh, chiding herself mentally for not being able to find the words she needed.  Words had always been her strength, her vocabulary a personal sign of intelligence.  She did not feel so intelligent in this moment.

"You could have found my early life in a story book." Selah began.  "A miller's daughter from an Ishgardian hamlet winds up betrothed to the son of their regent lord.  And happily ever after, in a grand manor of stone and stained glass.  Except..."

"Except?" inquired Kraio.

I don't want to do this.  This isn't their gods damned business.  Why?  Why do I have to bear myself this way to so many?

As the pangs of embarrassment grew into a blanket of humiliation that wrapped itself around Selah, her heart thundering and hands beginning to tremble, Ginal's tail gently brushed along her leg, and a hand again closed around hers.

Right.  Thank you, Kitten.

 "...Except the girl was only barely old enough to be a mother, and preferred women nonetheless, and the boy...the boy was a spoiled and arrogant child he grew into a man who enjoyed tormenting weaker creatures."

The pain of being struck across the cheek.  The fear of someone heads taller looming over you, chest puffed out and eyes narrowed in hatred.  The memories sent chills down Selah's spine, but she swallowed them back, and stood her ground.

"Oh...  That's...  Damn." Lupe muttered.

Drawing in a breath to stead herself, Selah continued.  "When Ishgard declined to send forces to Carteneau, Geoffrey thought it was his chance to gain favor with the church.  He gathered his guards and retainers and set off, believing that returning victorious would...  I don't know, get him a statue, or something equally stupid."

The last words elicited a chuckle from a few who seemed to agree to the arrogance.

"But he didn't come back.  I thought he was dead, and I was free...  though his ghost continued to haunt me for many years, and through many mistakes.  Recently, though, I received a letter from the well-intentioned, but still clueless healer to whom Geoffrey has been in the care of all these years."

Selah's lips had turned into an angry sneer as her heart began to angrily pound against her chest.  Her fists balled as she glanced to her beloved, wanting yet again to tell Ginal how truly sorry she was, but, it was Ginal herself who had said it time to stop apologizing.  "I...  Geoffrey asked me to help him find magitech pieces that he could have fashioned into a new body, so he could return and rebuild our old village himself."  Selah averted her eyes from Ginal's, a wave of shame cascading around her as she knew this too, was her fault, but she couldn't find it in herself to speak it aloud.  Ginal would probably notice, anyway.

"But I told him all I wanted was a divorce, and to move on with my life.  He...said he'd think about it.  A while later, he got his magitech body, anyway, and...now he's in Coerthas, preparing for the gods only know what in Stone Vigil."

There was more, so much more Selah wished she could say.  But really, did it matter?  Would their friends even believe the stories if they were told?  Sometimes, even Selah wasn't certain is was all real, herself.  Past lives, god-like entities granting powers and altering bodies.  Reincarnation...

Gods, damn, it could seem like a fever dream if you weren't living it daily.

No, no need to go into all of that.  It would be like how the most poorly written novels Selah had read dump exposition onto their reader.  Just a headache to put up with.

She looked to Ginal, who offered a half-smile and slight shrug of the shoulder at the silence of their friends.  A quick glance over their faces gleamed some uncertainty, as if they knew there had to be more, but didn't know whether to ask or not.

"How'd he move his soul from flesh to machinery?" Kraio inquired.

Selah shrugged, "Wish I knew, but my education was more in the arts than sciences."

"And we don't know what he's planning to do from here?" Ozalie asked.  "Sounds like he's ready to attack someone."

"I'm guessing so." Ginal chimed in.  "Which is why we were moving as fast as we could."

"And you two can't legally marry until he's out of the picture, right?" Lupe asked.  Which means...I can't watch you two get all made-up and make out in front of everyone?"

Ginal snickered, their friends laughed, and Selah rolled her eyes.  "Right, Lupe.  No girl on girl kissing for you."

"Leave it to a lalafell to charge into battle on account of his gonads." Elysande grinned.

More laughter, and a rather rude gesture from the small man seemed to finally break much of tension that had filled the air.

"I believe we know quite enough," Timothy began, "to know we must act on this.  This Geoffrey poses a true danger to the denizens of Coerthas, and more than probably all Eorzea aside."

A sobering silence fell over the room as all listened to Timothy.

A heavy sigh came from the elezen as his lips pursed.  "Unfortunately, this seems to fall to us.  The Ishgardians are busy with dragons, the Alliance... always with more to do than anyone should.  As well, I think it safe to assume that there will be little to no formal glory in this battle, and likely not even any reward."

Timothy scanned the faces of those gathered, his brow drawing together.  "It will, however, afford us the opportunity to see our dear girls here Bonded as they deserve, and I think that is more than enough reason to risk this fight."

It was more than gratifying for Selah to see that these people cared enough to risk life and limb, all for the shot at giving her the chance to make the life she wanted for herself.  It had taken twenty-five years, but Selah finally had friends.

It had been any other moment, she would have let herself revel in the joy, and cry.

"Wait..." Kraio spoke.  "If his soul is now inside this metal body...what happened to his flesh one?"

Everheart: Chapter 25

It's not exactly a golden chariot, but it'll do.

Soldiers carried Ginal on a stretcher as Selah followed behind, and Ginal could see the small twitches beyond her beloved's practiced stoicism that walking was unreasonably painful.  The infirmary occupied the second floor of a box shaped building on the northeastern wall of the fortress.  It was impressively large, sprawling across multiple short corridors that served as wings.  Menservants scrubbed the stone floors with a mixture of soap and vinegar that burned Ginal's nostrils, and maidservants carried linens soiled by blood and urine away to be washed.  The scents mixed in her nose and traveled right to her stomach, which turned on itself and threatened to expel its contents.

Oh, Matron...  I'm gonna lose it...

Turning her head in a vain attempt to escape the nauseating potpourri, Ginal caught sight of small spatters of her blood trailing through the halls.  A wide-eyed, cold dread crept over her, and a realization that the weakness overcoming her wasn't just post-battle fatigue.

I might die in this forsaken place...

Selah's hands wrapped around Ginal's, and the hyur's exhausted smile was genuine and reassuring, allowing a small sense relief to drape Ginal.  The piercing, throbbing pain in her abdomen was too much, though, as it reached her stomach.  The soldiers obviously found it difficult to keep their hold on the stretcher as the contents of her stomach splattered across the floor.  A whimper was all Ginal could manage as she slumped back. 

Selah kept pace alongside the soldiers as they arrived at an open room that, judging by the crates stacked into one corner and cots haphazardly arranged on the opposite wall, served as a supply wing.  Menservants were erecting simple wooden partitions to serve as a makeshift wall, while the soldiers roughly handled Ginal's move onto a cot, eliciting a pained groan.

A surge of white-hot anger, a blur of uncontrolled action, and Selah realized she was the one responsible for the bloodied nose of the soldier on the floor.  Her heart drummed against her rib cage as her fists trembled, while her thigh throbbed with pain to tell her that so much sudden movement was too much.

"Treat my love like that again, and I'll do worse." Selah's voice trembled with rage.

The soldier still standing dragged his companion away, muttering an epithet that reduced both women to their genitalia.

I hate this damn place.

If the situation had been reversed, and Ginal had taken swings at these soldiers, Selah would have been working to calm her and remind her to keep her emotions under control.  While Ginal knew, in her heart, this was the best way, she couldn't help but grin at the sight of Selah knocking some cocky shithead on his ass.

The menservants exchanged worried glances, but finished their work on the partitions and hurried away.  Within a heartbeat, there was a knocking on the partitions as an elezen woman stepped into their room.  Her hair was gray, her face and clothing a choice of simple trousers and tunic.  Despite the lines of age on her face, though, the woman's eyes still sparkled with wit and vigor.

"Name's Sarelle, ladies." she bruskly stated.  "I'm here to mend yer wounds n' get ye out me clinic."

Sarelle sat a satchel down and gave Ginal a cursory glance, her lips pursed at the sight of Ginal's wounds.  "Nasty.  Alright, blue-eyes, help me undress 'er so I can dress 'er wounds right."

Ginal's tail sharply flicked at the words, and she grabbed the healer's reaching hands.  "No.  Leave your supplies and I'll do it myself."

Sarelle's brow quirked with obvious annoyance at Ginal's defiance.  "Child, I can't much help ye if ye don't work with me."

Nope.  No way in all hells.

A soft sigh escaped Selah as she gestured toward the hallway, "Would you excuse us, a moment?"

The healer rolled her eyes as she strolled away.  "Girl's 'bout to bleed out n' she's worried 'bout modesty."

A moment passed as Selah waited for the older woman to round the corner, and with a furrowed brow, took Ginal's hand.

"Kitten..."

"Don't 'Kitten' me, Selah." Ginal grunted, struggling to push herself up.  "Just help me with the stupid dressing."

"Neither of us are trained in handling wounds of this degree, and I most certainly don't enjoy watching my beloved bleeding to death!" Selah snapped.

Ginal recoiled as tears blurred her vision, her grip on Selah's hand tightened.  "These people attacked us just because we have fucking glowing eyes!  What do you think they'll do when the 'witch' they found turns out to have a--"  She gulped the word back into her throat, lips and fist trembling in a display of barely contained emotion.

"If anyone wants to question your womanhood, they can do so at the end of my lance." the hyur stated matter-of-factly.  "But I'm not versed in alchemy or conjury, and I can't save you from these wounds."  Selah squeezed Ginal's hand tenderly, her distressed expression echoing her words.  "Ginal, please..."

A knock on the partitions startled the couple, and they found Sarelle had returned.

"Remember to speak softly, ladies.  Elezen ears rival miqo'te.  Now, before ye go n' get defensive, let me make meself clear.  I don't much give a damn 'bout what's between yer legs, child, 'cause that's not important.  My oath is to tend the sick n' wounded, n' that's what I'll do."

I'm so scared of what people might do...

Trepidation swelled in Ginal's heart, mouth agape, yet no words would come as beads of sweat trickled down her forehead.

But I don't want to die, either...

"Alright..." she finally sighed.

"But not a single comment." Selah demanded, her gaze upon the healer.

Sarelle rolled her eyes as she opened her supply bag, and soon had produced vials of various liquids, and bandages.  Selah aided in removing the torn, bloodstained garments and unbuckling the boots and gauntlets, all of which began to dissipate into aether as it sat in a pile.  If Sarelle had noticed, she made no indication.  With her bruised and bleeding body exposed, Ginal found herself afloat in vulnerability and shame.

"They're only jealous that you're more beautiful than any woman, and you can use it better than any man." Selah whispered into her ear.

It drew a smile to Ginal's lips, and as exhaustion finally overcame her, a small comfort stirred in her heart. 

Should I blame Geoff for being the start of all this?  The soldiers for their untrained hostility?  Or myself for not having the courage to stay home with Ginal?

Or have all of us merely been pawns in a game played by beings who claim godhood?

Though said as a joke, it was true that Ginal had been brought to near-death on multiple occasions, and each time was the worst fear Selah had ever experienced.

She squeezed Ginal's hand as she watched the miqo'te sleep, finally allowing herself a small sigh of relief.  The healer's magic had repaired about half the damage in Ginal's torso, and the salves were keeping the wound closed.  Ginal's less serious wounds were closing nicely by salve, as well, and Sarelle would be back after a rest to continue work on the interior injury.

Selah's own wounds were tender to touch, and the muscles begged for rest. The bandages were secure, though, and the surface of the piercing wounds were sealed.  Sarelle had promised to tend to her once Ginal was no longer in danger of internal bleeding.  Selah's eyelids, too, called for rest, as her eyes ached.  She shook her head at the thoughts, though, refusing to rest in until Ginal was no longer in danger. 

So she sat on crate, in this cluttered makeshift room, rubbing her eyes and repeatedly blinking in the struggle to fight back exhaustion for another few minutes.  Furthermore, the hard crate was not a comfortable place to park her rear, which she hoped would make falling asleep difficult.

Ginal's chest rose and fell in slow but shallow breaths, and sometimes the pause between was just long enough to frighten Selah.  So it was back to Ginal's side, holding her hand and petting her hair.

I've never really known what the right thing was, in any part of life.  I've hurt a lot of people as I've chased after my personal freedom...  Like when I pushed you away that one day in Costa, and you ended up in the claws of that demon crab.  And before that, when I wouldn't recognize you as my equal, so you charged in to face the poacher king alone, and...and the others found you half dead from bleed out...

Self-loathing stirred in Selah's heart as she finally realized that her blurring vision was tears welling in her eyes.

You wanted so badly to impress me...you stupid girl, always pushing yourself so fucking hard just to impress me...  But you don't need my praise.  You're already so strong, so fierce and driven.  You owe me nothing. 

I love you so much, Ginal...but we're surrounded by so much pain just for being together.  Will we ever be happy?

The tears pooling at Selah's feet looked almost as though a glass of water were spilled.  For once, though, Selah found she didn't care about such a display.

A knocking on the partitions startled Selah, and she found Lord Drillemont waiting, carrying a tray set with a small kettle and two mugs.  Selah hastily wiped at her eyes, suddenly very conscious of the need to save face. 

"Not necessary, my girl." his words were gently spoken, tinged with a sadness his eyes echoed.  "You two must have been through quite an ordeal."

Selah stayed silent, with no effort made to conceal the mistrust with which she eyed the man.  He briefly paused, his shoulders drooping as he took notice of her gaze.  A sigh escaped as he poured a nearly black liquid, whose scent floated on the stream erupting from the kettle.

"Coffee?  In this tundra?"

A grin crossed Drillemont's lips as he handed the mug to Selah.  "A benefit of my station is that I can have almost anything imported."

Oh, gods, I have missed coffee.

The beverage had a dark, bitter and nutty flavor Selah immediately recognized as the staple roast of a Gridanian breakfast, and for a moment she forgot about how much her body ached.  Birdsong and the murmur of flowing streams played in her mind, and when she gazed out the nearest window, she could swear the gray skies and frozen ground had become fields of sun-kissed flowers surrounding the roots of mile-high trees.  The fantasy receded, and she noticed  Drillemont sitting in silence, gazing upon the floor.  Selah quirked a brow as she waited for him to gather his thoughts.

"I remember you, from years ago..."  Drillemont sighed,  seeming to have difficulty looking Selah in the eye.

"I thought so, since you used my...former name."

"Our ways and our people...can be very cruel.  Especially to those who are different.  Especially for women."

Drillemont's tone was so heavily laced with regret that it felt nearly tangible, and left Selah stunned at the unexpected sentiment.  She watched as the noble lord gently closed his hand over Ginal's, his shoulders slumped. 

"I've questioned my men...those who aren't so badly broken that they can still talk, and it seems we're guilty of lacking both discipline and compassion.  Maybe we've always been this way..."

Awkward silence filled the room.  Watching a man of such high station choke on his own remorse was something she'd never imagined would happen.  Was she supposed to be reassuring?  Or was she supposed to condemn the man for his subordinates' actions?

Gods, but I'm too tired to want to do either.

"I have often wished I were a man of bravery." Drillemont wistfully stated.  "Facing dragons is simple, for they can only kill me.  To face the many generations of tradition that are ingrained into our people, though, and speak out against fellow nobility?  That could have me stripped of allies, titles, land and rank, were I not extremely careful...and we're I not indisputably correct in my accusations.  I'm ashamed to admit how important these things had always been to me."

"Forgive me, Lord Drillemont, but I'm very tired.  Is there a point to this?"

A smirk crossed the lord's lips as he met Selah's gaze, which quickly receded into a grimace.  "I remember a young girl, not quite a woman grown, with all the promise in the world before her.  I also remember watching that promise slip away from her.  How her eyes, once brilliantly shining sapphires, lost their sheen...and how her smile, which once radiated warmth and serenity, became practiced and forced."

It felt like rubbing salt on a wound that had never truly mended, and Selah had to consciously control the pangs in her heart.

Gods, I wish he'd get to the point.

"You don't smile much anymore, do you, Selah?"

Her gaze drifted to the miqo'te sleeping on the cot, and her eyes narrowed to match the smiling curve of her lips.  "More than I used to.  It's amazing how natural a smile can be when you find a reason."

Drillemont inclined his head toward Ginal, his brow raised inquisitively.  "May I ask, what is she to you?"

"My fiance.  Though that should be my wife, by rights."

"By rights?"

Selah sighed despondently, "It's...complicated.  We're working toward fixing my mistakes right now, though."

"I'd like to know this story."

The hyur shook her head, "If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather not."

His brow furrowed and eyes radiating resolve, Drillemont rested his hands under his chin.  "That wasn't a question, child.  The details of this story of yours may yet determine what course of action I decide on, next."

Deciding it was best to not risk upsetting her host, Selah recounted the details of the last year of her life.  The immediate friendship with Ginal, and how they fell in love.  Their almost full inability to be together because of the scars on their hearts.  The near-death experiences, and long journeys.  The resolve to embrace their love for each other, and make it work, damn the hardships.

Some details, though, Selah kept to herself.  Ginal's anatomy, and their first kiss in the Gold Court.  Dreams of a past life, and the games of Primalesque beings.  She also, deliberately, reworded the specifics she knew of Geoffrey's transformation.  These details were too intimate, or otherwise too bizzare, to share so soon, for she had no guarantees she could trust this nobleman before her.

Silence again blanketed the room as Drillemont paced about.  The shifting expressions on his face spoke of disbelief, sadness, intrigue, and lastly, resolve.

"Geoffrey was always a pompous, arrogant ass, even for Ishgardian nobility." Drillemont chided.  "His family had been petitioning the Holy See to be named as a great house for decades, and Geoffrey had long since learned to play the part as though he were so honered.  I had always felt glad to know of his supposed death at Cartineau."

"As was I." Selah agreed.  "Though the path of freedom was long and winding, it's the path that led me to Ginal...and to people I can actually call my friends."

"I had been wondering what the hells sort of monsters had taken residence in Stone Vigil.  Anything that can frighten off dragons is enough to cause me worry.  But why Stone Vigil?"

Selah could only shrug.  "He's been fixating on Falcon's Nest, I know that much.  Stone Vigil is nearest to there than any other fortress, so...maybe he's trying to use Stone Vigil as a place to stage his precious reconstruction.  Or maybe he simply started walking and that's where he ended up?  Fuck if I know."

"Either way, we're doing something about it." Drillemont stated.

"No, Lord Drillemont, it's not your fight." Selah sighed.

"It's not a request, child, nor a debate or discussion.  Geoffrey has become something evil, with the capacity to cause much harm to our people."  Drillemont's lips sat pursed as he paused, and allowed his eyes to meet Selah's gaze.  "Besides, I've already allowed you to suffer so much by looking the other way, even when I suspected the harm being done to you.  I will not look the other way this time, Selah."

Genuine disbelief halted Selah's thoughts as she grasped to make sense of the conversation.  Enough people had already been caught up in this insanity, hurt or even killed.  Now, though, someone was willingly trying to join them in this mess.  As much as Selah resented getting somebody else involved, she found herself grateful.

"Alright, Lord Drillemont." she sighed.  "What, exactly, do you intend to do to help us?"