Everheart: Chapter 12

"What do you know about the Empire's magitech weaponry?" Burnished Snow pulled a simple stool from the corner of the small room and sat at the foot of his patient's bed.

Selah could only shrug in response.  "Very little.  I hear it rivals the technology from the ancient Allagan Empire, but, I've never dealt with the imperials."

The healer nodded and pulled a small notebook from within his vest.  He offered it to Selah, who flipped through it for a moment. She eyed over sketches of mechanical beasts and pieces of technology affixed to body parts. She read over alchemical formulae and mathematical meanderings that made no sense to her, and other various ramblings hastily jotted throughout the book.  She looked to the roegadyn with clear confusion and handed the notebook back.

"I'm not sure what much of this means, healer."

Geoffrey coughed out an almost derisive sounding laugh, "Selah's education lies mostly in art and literature, I'm afraid."

With jaw clenched in agitation, Selah glared at Geoffrey.  Maybe if you had bothered to grant me access to more tutors when I asked for it, I'd have a broader education, you arrogant prick.

"Get to the point, Snow." Selah demanded.

"Ah, of course, madam."  The thin man cleared his throat with a cough, "Ah, I suppose the fastest way to say it is, I have made study of pieces of magitech brought into Revenant's Toll, and have had some many lengthy conversations with members of the Garlond Ironworks, and I believe I have discovered a way to affix this technology onto a person, such as to give them new limbs."

He indicated Geoffrey in the bed, "Geoffrey has agreed to be the first to have my theories tested on.  He may very well walk after leaving Cartineaux after all!  Ah, and think of how others could be helped, yes?  War and adventuring can be cruel to the unlucky."

I don't need intimate knowledge of Imperial technology to know that sounds absurd.  After traveling across most of the continent, I've never encountered anything like this.  What makes this no-name healer think he's onto something even Cid Garlond's boy and girls haven't figured out?

"Healer, if such a thing were possible, I'm sure the Empire or Ironworks would have figured it out by now."

"Every major advancement begins with one person who sees what others could not."  Geoffrey struggled to push himself up again, to face the others as best he could.  "We've spent dozens of hours speaking of his research, and I think it's worth trying."

Selah looked upon Geoffrey, then Snow, then turned away as she looked within herself.  I'd almost like to just watch this fail, so he can know what it's like to have your hopes ripped away from you.  She drew in a steady breath, and slowly released it.  If Snow really is right, then this won't just help Geoff, and that's something worthwhile.  And then there's what he might be able to do to rebuild Falcon's Nest.  It's the right thing to do for everyone, isn't it?

But why does it feel so wrong?

"And I suppose you'd like me to make a trip to Castrum Centri and drag back something for you?"

The healer and patient both beamed with delight.



When reliable, steadying friendship was nowhere to be found, a glass of whiskey would suffice.  Fortunately, what the tavern called Seventh Heaven lacked in atmosphere and hospitality, it made up for in stocking a fine Lominsan blend.

It was a smaller place than she was used to, maybe only a quarter the size of the Carline Canopy or Quicksand she had loved to frequent.  The lighting was dim, with only a few sconces about the place, and the cloudy windows only allowing a portion of the sun's rays through.  Bits of food and splashes of beer littered the floor, and the place smelled sour and stale.

The room was alive, though, with the boastful tales of seasoned adventurers exaggerating their feats, and being called on their lies.  At the bar ahead of her, an elezen woman in a long, gray robe argued with her fully armored miqo'te comrade about whether or not the feline man had recovered from being tempered by a Primal.

The liquid gold burned Selah's throat and warmed her stomach, as quill and paper sat before her.  She leaned back in her chair to examine the contents of her glass, willing the liquor to answer questions it couldn't.

Why did I come here?  Why haven't I just left already?

This is the right thing to do, isn't it?  I would be helping the people of Falcon's Nest get their livelihoods back.  And, if this healer is as brilliant as he thinks he is, then I'll be helping to create something the entire world could benefit from.

Yes, this is absolutely the right thing to do.

She tilted the glass back to down the remaining spirit.  Setting the glass down, she noticed a sharp glare as light reflected off the band of rose gold on her finger.  Her stomach felt as though tied in knots, as a longing ache took hold of her heart.  She lowered her head to hide the tears that started to fall, and was grateful she sat in the corner of the bar.

Oh gods, Kitten.  What could I possibly write to you?  That something else is more important than our bonding?  That I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing?

That I'm so terrified that Geoffrey could have any kind of influence on my life again that I may have just thrown you away?

"Tears are unbecoming of a maiden so lovely as you."

She looked up to address the speaker, but paused when she saw his face and realized why the smooth, playful voice was familiar.  Snow-white hair that fell alongside eyes of mischief.  A face of youthful features, with lips turned up in that ever present grin.

"Thancred!"

He smiled as he took a seat opposite the small table.  "Hello, dear lady.  It's been some time."

The realization that she had, in fact, completely ceased all communication with the Scions months ago hit hard, and a wave of embarrassment washed over her.

"Gods, Thancred, I haven't spoken with any of you in so long.  I'm sorry, there's been so much-"

The youthful adventurer held up a hand and shook his head.  No explanation was owed.

"We thought it might have to do with the beloved you mentioned the last time we saw you.  We don't begrudge you your priorities, Selah."

Priorities...  If I really had those figured out, I wouldn't feel like a walking pile of chocobo shit.  She could only lower her head as more tears streamed down her cheek.

Surprise and discomfort crossed Thancred's face, which then softened into compassion as he reached out to reassuringly squeeze his friend's arm.. "What's happened, Selah?"

She drew in a ragged breath to steady herself, internally chiding herself for such a display in public as she wiped at her eyes.  "Have you ever been so lost as to the right thing to do that you can't see straight?"

"Constantly." he replied with a kind smile.  "And I assume it has to do with your lady?"

It felt like her heart was in her throat, and so she tried to swallow it down, and could find no words to respond with.  She realized she was trembling.

"I assume she is nowhere near Revenant's Toll?"

Still she had no words to offer.

"I'm not the best person to go to for romantic advice, dear Lady, but I can offer this: If your bond is as strong as you have thought, then call her to your side.  You can't work this out apart."

If nothing else, he's right that I can't fix this away from her.  And Ginal would understand the importance of restoring Falcon's Nest, wouldn't she?  Maybe we can finish all this together, and go back to the honeymoon we lost.

With a thankful smile she squeezed her friend's hand, "Thank you, Thancred.  I'll writer a letter immediately."

Thancred rose and offered an exaggerated half-bow.  "Woe unto me, for I must leave the light of your beauty for the many duties ahead."

"You're cute, Thancred, but not cute enough."  She offered a half-hearted grin.

"Never say never, my lovely Lady Selah."

He stepped towards the door of the tavern, and turned back.  "You know, you've missed a great many developments since you've parted with us.  If you'd like to get reacquainted with everyone, we've moved our base of operations to the halls beyond that door."  He indicated a door at the back wall, offered another smile, and was on his way.

The Scions no longer work from Vesper Bay?  What prompted that move across the continent?  When I'm finished with all this, I should stop by to see the others.

She looked upon the paper before her, put the quill to work;

"My beloved Ginal,

I pray you know that I have not forsaken you or our bonding.  Please come to Revenant's Toll as soon as possible, and let us solve this problem together, the way it should be.

Yours, alone, ever in love.

-Selah."

The world has always stood against me, and now they will know my pain as their own.

A long gown of glimmering green silk danced with the breeze as she strolled along the bridge of fallen stone slabs.

Freak!  False woman!  Weakling!

And as YOUR wife, I'm telling you, you don't OWN me!

Leaves drifted along as they fell from their branches, and she stopped to glance upon her reflection in the river below.  She grinned mischievously at the eyes ablaze with emerald fire.  With a playful purr, she let her fingers play in her wine-red hair that fell past her shoulders to the middle of her back in wild curls.  As it swayed in the breeze, it seemed like a living flame.  Her hands sensually slid from her hair, down the sides of her face and across her bust, moaning erotically.  Her tail sharply whipped out to punctuate her satisfaction.

"I feel yummy."

The ears on top of her head twitched as she heard a heavy footfall approaching.  She turned to see an Ixal warrior tread through a large, stone archway that sat at the other end of the bridge.  She couldn't help but smile as she looked upon the crudely carved spear in its hands.

Her grin twisted into a hateful scowl as the sensation of intense heat washed over her, and she remembered the pain of blistering skin.

The birdman towered over her by at least three heads.  Its mottled skin and upward curving horns were hideous to behold, and the stink of its breath invaded her nostrils with a sharp hostility.

I hate the Ixali.

"Glowing miqo'te in Ixali land.  Leave!"  Its words came through between irritated squawks.

The smile returned to her face as she admired the sharp nails that extended almost two inches from her fingertips.

"Little bird, little bird, will you sing for me~?" her voice a playful melody.

The warrior was very obviously confused by the bizarre reply, and screeched something at her in that gutteral language that grated on her nerves.  She looked up at him as the flame in her eyes flared hotter.  A mass of black, pulsing aether swelled in the ground beneath her, exploding outward and coalescing into curved, man-sized spines that sharply jutted from the ground.  One of the spines pierced the Ixal's chest, and the beastman slumped to the ground as the spine dissipated.

She knelt down by the beastman, grinning wickedly as she looked upon the lifeblood draining from the wound.  She touched her hand to her shoulder, where the memory of a terrible, piercing pain lingered.

You pierce me, I pierce you.

She giggled with a giddy delight.

Hear...feel...think... My daughter...turn back...

The voice, soft and motherly, seemed to come from within and without at once.  She curiously searched the area for the speaker.

A short distance away, a trio of birdmen came charging forth, brandishing their crudely forged weapons and cawing angrily.  She rose, and again her fingers ran through her hair, down her face and across her breasts.  Her lips curled up in a wicked grin as shining, black aether formed in her hand.  It stretched outward, and formed into the shape of a shimmering greatsword.

"Little birds, in your cage, flutter free and sing for me~"



Bees dared not buzz.  Birds feared to sing.  Even the breeze had stilled, and the river had hushed its whispers.

The entire Black Shroud had become silent in awe and fear as it beheld the massacre.

None had been spared.  Not the workers who labored to set the logs down the river.  Not the warriors who protected the camp, nor their wolf companions.  Not even the handful of young that resided here.

She stepped over the broken and hacked apart corpses as the heavy, sickly scent of blood filled her nostrils.  Her ears twitched as she was certain she heard the lifeblood of the Ixali trickle into the water.  She paused to take in the sight of severed limbs strewn about like garbage to be thrown out.

She purred as she reveled in her own carnage, a smirk playing across her lips.

You burn me, I kill you all.  You cost me my armor.  I liked that outfit.  Oh, but I'm not done.  There are still many who've hurt me, and they must suffer in turn.

She willed the greatsword in her hand to dissipate, and she took a moment to ensure no blood had ruined her dress.  

With a satisfied purr, Ginal sauntered away from used to be the Ixali logging camp.

Everheart: Chapter 11

The card of the aetheryte tower exploded into sparkling streams of aether, and the card of the emerald turned on its' side.  The Warrior bellowed a victorious laugh as he pointed at the cards on the table, his horns and wide maw looking almost demonic as they were cast in the shadows of the sun's fading light that pierced the windows.

"There it is!  Separate them, and Serafine dies first!"

With a solemn expression, the Lady waved her hand along the table, and several candles appeared from nothing, already lit and casting their dancing light along the small home's walls.

"Emera yet lives...if only barely.  Though her will to maintain this life may be diminished without her beloved at her side."

"And what of Amani?"

The Lady gestured to the card of the lion-crest, "The Nobleman will toy with her, and when she learns of Emera's impending death, the guilt may yet undo her."

A long pause, as the Warrior folded his arms and looked lost in thought.  "We agree, and we are pleased.  Watch, and wait."

"Would that it did not need to come to this."

The Warrior grunted and turned an irritated gaze upon The Lady, "They knew the conditions by which we empowered them.  They broke this covenant, and in so doing spat on all of us!  You Twelve are far too concerned with their pain, we think."

"Perhaps we are.  Or perhaps you are not concerned enough."

The two figures looked upon each other in a long, tension,filled silence, before returning their attention to the cards between them.

"Our will...be done."

"So...you've been sick, constantly?"

Selah nodded as the gray haired lalafellan man pressed his finger to the veins of her wrist.  He moved a step stool before her, giving himself the height needed to meet her face to face.

"Let's have a look at your throat."

She opened her mouth as wide as possible while the smallkin continued his examination.  A small ball of aetherial light formed in his palm, which slowly floated into her throat for illumination.

"But no coughing, sore throat, sneezing?"

"No.  Just nausea and vomiting, daily."

The healer scratched at his grayed beard, looking preoccupied with thought.

"Let's check your ears.  Turn your head."

Selah obeyed, and the healer created another ball of light in his palm, which adjusted in size to fit into her long, pointed ear.  Ginal looked on as she nervously ran her hands through her blonde hair, her tail whipping about to echo the apprehension on her face.

"Are you finding what's wrong with her, Zazamio?"

The small man shook his head after a long moment, then moved his stool to allow himself to examine Selah's other ear.

"No...nothing here, either."

Zazamio hopped down and paced about the small room, tapping his chin with repeated "hmms."  Selah lied back on bed she was sitting on, holding her stomach.

"Tell me, Amani, how much have you been eating?  More than normal?"

"Ah...yeah, I'd say so.  But I've been trying to get more exercise, so that would make me hungry, right?"

Zazamio nodded, "Hmm...you do look like you've gained weight since I've last seen you."

The red heat of embarrassment washed over Selah's features, and Ginal's expression grew even more worried.

"Yeah, well...that's why the exercise."

The lalafell tapped at his chin.  "Hmm...  Let me examine your stomach."  He went to the elezen's side and, with eyes closed, pressed his hands to her tunic-clad abdomen with hands aglow in aether.  "mmhmm..."

"What is it, Zaza?" the miqo'te inquired while her blond-furred tail twitched anxiously.

The healer's eyes popped open, a mischievous grin curling onto his lips.  "Yep.  Congratulations, Amani, you're pregnant."

Pregnant?  By all the gods in all the aetherial heavens, how was that possible?  There had to be some mistake.

"Pregnant?!"  Ginal's hands balled into fists so tight, her knuckles glowed white-hot.  "Who in all the hells have you been sleeping with, Amani?!"

"SERAFINE!"  Zazamio's voice boomed from his small frame, his eyes ablaze with white-blue fire as his presence was suddenly enough to fill out the entire room.

Ginal shrank back, the expression of anger morphing into one of apology.  "I-I'm sorry..."

"Good."  Zazamio turned to Selah on the bed, "Now, there have been no others?"

"No, I promise it."

"Mmhmm... Serafine, tell me truly, have you and your wife been intimate after your body changed?"

The miqo'te's blank expression spoke volumes in place of her silence.  "Um...Well, yes..."

"And I assume you two have been exploring your recent endowments?"

Both women's faces turned a shade of crimson so profound, they could have been mistaken for whistling tea-kettles.  The smallkin looked between the two as they nodded the affirmative.

"Then congratulations to you as well, Serafine.  Your wedding tackle works like any male's."  

Zazamio sauntered from the room, chuckling to himself, "This world just keeps getting stranger.  I'll never be out of work."

Ginal came to her wife's side, offering an apologetic and sheepish smile.  "I'm sorry..."

"I forgive you.  It's a shock for me, as well."  Selah took her wife's hand, and put it to her stomach.  "So..."

"Yeah... I don't know what to say..."

"How about you tell me we're headed to lunch?"  Selah smiled, and accepted the loving kiss of her wife.  "I love you, Serafine."  

A half-breed child, conceived of a hermaphroditic mother... Of all the things in life to claim as an accomplishment, this seems as good as any.

"I love you, Amani."



Weightlessness and free falling.  A disorienting sensation, with no sound or visual to support it.  Just a dizzying darkness, followed by a hard, blunt pain. 

Selah's eyes shot open as the breath was kicked from her lungs, staring up at the bright morning sky.  Her back ached and her head swam as she frantically looked about for answers.  Dinornis' head entered her field of vision, the war bird's gentle cawing signifying his concern for his flock mate.  She must have dozed off and slipped out of the saddle.  Embarrassing as all hells.

"Yeah...I'm alright."

And what in the hells was with that dream?  Another one of those bizarre nightmares where she was an elezen, and Ginal was blonde.  This one, though, was proof that a dream didn't need violence or desperation to be a nightmare.  Being pregnant?  Selah shuddered at the thought.  No, thank you.  Once was too much for this life.

Her companion nuzzled her as she sat up to survey the surrounding landscape with shielded eyes.   A long walkway of paved stone, surrounded by large, healthy trees and scores of wildflowers.  Crags and slopes of jagged gray rock, with large formations of blue, glowing crystal protruding.  Towering walls and spires of smooth, carved stone, with banners of purple and gold flying overhead.

Revenant's Toll, the only presence of Eorzean civilization on the untamed frontier of Mor Dhona.

How long has it been?  A year at least, maybe two. Stepping up to the interior gate, she could see that what used to be just a defensible outpost had grown into a full and true city of its own.

The road of stone continued on, snaking and splitting its way through the fortress-city.  Immediately ahead, to her right, stood a stone-built merchant's stall the size of house.  Bronze-skinned hyur women dressed in earth-toned loincloths and small halter-tops tended the shop,  She couldn't make out the words, but the women seemed to be trading with a throng of rowdy adventurers and mercenaries, handing over weapons of strange technological design, or others that looked to be crafted of rare metals and crystals, with aether flowing off them so heavily that she could feel it.  She couldn't see beyond the stall, for it was so large that it blocked the city behind it from her view.

Ahead and to the left, the road snaked into what seemed to be a town square of sorts, forming a circle around the unmistakable tower of swirling and thrumming aetheryte.  There were signs overhead of heavy wooden doors carved into the omnipresent stone walls that made up much of the city, promising inns and bars.  She guessed that the other, unidentified doors and stairways she spotted belonged to homes.

"Good morning, ma'am."

Selah looked over at the gray-skinned roegadyn man towering over her, and offered a polite nod.

"Good morning."

The man was dressed in a long, bulky coat that was lined with straps and buckles that ran the garment's length, keeping it closed.  Thick, black gloves covered his hands, and a tall, wide brimmed hat rested upon his head.  It the standard uniform of the Grand Companies, except this one was blue, a color she had never seen on this uniform before.

Ask about it later.  There's a bastard to find.

"I'm looking for a healer named Burnished Snow."

"Ah, yeah, I know 'im."  The soldier turned and pointed ahead and off the path, at a section of the great stone wall. "Somewhere o'er there, one o' them doors is his clinic."

Selah smiled at the sound of the Lominsan brogue.  It was such a delightful accent that was sorely missed in Gridania.  But the smile faded as she looked upon the area of her destination.

It's time to get this over with.  I refuse to live with this shadow over me.  I'll be damned if you'll own me anymore, you sociopathic piece of shit.  If it's really you, I'm going to march right in and demand a divorce.  Nothing's going to keep me from being happy anymore, and nothing's going to keep me from the bonding I really want.  I'm not that weak child anymore, and I'll gladly show you how hard I can hit back.  And the only dick that'll be in me belongs to my Ginal.  She's bigger than you, anyway.

Selah allowed herself a smug smile.  Sunlight reflected off the band of rose gold on her finger, drawing her gaze.  The smile turned to a morose frown as an aching sensation took hold of her heart.

But if this is a con game, and someone's trying to pose as Geoffrey for some reason, oh I'll tear them apart.  I'm not to be toyed with or manipulated.  I won't be used for personal gain.  Not even by you, mother.  Gods damn you for pushing me into that bonding to begin with.  And for what, a dowry and stipend?  Some prestige at having your pretty little daughter married off to the Manor's new lord?  To try to teach me to "grow out of being queer?"  

Her lips twisted into a sneer at the thought.

"I get it, Selah!  I godsdamned get it, you don't care for men!  And in my heart, that's not even an issue"

Why did you say that?  Where, at every other point in my life, you've made it very clear that I carry only your disapproval.  That I was never a good enough child for you, that I was too intellectual, or liked women too much, or not faithful enough.  Gods damn, Charlotte, did you ever love me?

And why the fuck did you need to travel across half the continent to find me?  Did you somehow sense that I was finally happy?  Or did you simply feel a need to make sure your daughter wasn't getting laid anymore?  Knowing you, it was probably in some vain hope that by reuniting Geoffrey with his "darling" bride, that somehow his family fortune might still exists.  Well, that money, the prestige and the titles can all burn in the seven hells.  I want nothing to do with any of it.

Selah blinked rapidly, realizing that she had been marching through the city, pushing her way through the groups of adventurers and other denizens of the place with Dinornis trailing behind.  She was almost upon the area in which the soldier had said Burnished Snow should reside.  A short search of the address plates by the doors, and she'd be set.

Up and down the sets of stairs, finding residences and workshops, but no healer's clinic.  At the fifth door she came upon, she found the plaque that read "Burnished Snow: residence and clinic."  With a deep, slow breath in, she grit her teeth and then exhaled just as slowly.  She pounded the wooden door with her fist.

Yes, that's exactly what I'll do.  I'll stay just long enough to tell him what kind of a whoreson he really is, and demand a divorce.

Rapid, angry breaths and a tightly clenched jaw.  Fists balled so tight, the bones threatened to crack.

His face manifested in her mind.  That chin that proudly jutted out.  Those eyes that shone with equal parts intelligence, ambition, and arrogance.  That meticulously trimmed goatee, and the grin that proudly boasted how he knew something you didn't.

Gods, I loath Geoffrey.

She saw her hand connecting to the side of his face, and could almost feel the sudden resistance of cheek versus hand.  It wasn't the open-palmed smack of an insulted woman, but rather the back-handed slap that told a person to learn they were beneath you.

The same kind that he had used against her so many times.

Selah snorted derisively as she waited, and at last the sturdy wooden door creaked open.  What was easily the most unusual image of a roegadyn looked upon her.  Instead of towering over her, he stood only about a head taller, and instead of the normal muscle set upon muscle, this man's nearly blood-red frame was small, almost thin.  Perhaps this man was a healer because of a lack of options.

"Can I help you, madam?"

"I'm Selah Phocina."

The heale's face lit up, "Ah, wonder-"

"Where is he?" her tone was sharp and short.

Burnished was clearly taken aback.  "Ah, your husb-"

"Geoffrey."

"Ah... Yes, Geoffrey is here."

He stepped back and opened the door wide, gesturing down a hallway behind him.  Selah marched into the dwelling, her eyes fixed down the indicated hall as the healer had barely enough time to back away and not be shoved aside.

"He's down there?"

"Ah, yes madam, the final door down the hall."

Alright you son of a bitch, time to face me.  Maybe I'll just kick your sorry ass around a little for the hells of it, too.  It's about time someone did, I'm sure.

She stormed ahead and reached for the doorknob, quickly opening the door.  There was a small bed, enough for a hyur to lay in comfortably, and a single window allowed the sunlight through.

"I'm here.  You better make it quick, you sorry bas-"

Selah's mind finally processed what her eyes beheld.  If this was Geoffrey, he was entirely unrecognizable.  One arm, no legs, and almost the entirety of his body wrapped in bandages.  What small patches of skin were visible looked burned, scarred and half-melted.  Even his eyes were concealed by a dressing of bandages.

"Not what you were expecting." his voice, raspy and broken, only somewhat above a whisper.

She realized that she had been staring, and that her mouth had hung open.  She collected herself, drew in a steadying breath, and looked upon the broken shell before her.

"No...I'd say it isn't."

"This is why I've been here for almost six years.  My body is too broken for me to leave."

Despite herself,  pangs of sorrow and pity tore through her heart, and she had to look away.

You were a horrible man to me, Geoffrey, but I can admit that nothing you ever did to me broke me so completely.  Aside from those scars on my back, I came out rather hale.

Did you deserve this?  Does anyone?  I... I feel sorry for you.

Disbelief and disgust washed over Selah.

Gods, that I can feel this way.  Am I really as strong as I thought?  Or have I merely become soft in all the wrong ways?

"Can we just...get this over with, Geoff?"

Geoffrey's struggling laugh turned into a wheezing cough, and he offered a weak smile.

"Very well... As pieces of my memory have returned, I've asked Burnished Snow to serve as my eyes and ears with the world outside.  He's done quite an admirable job at this, and has kept me well informed of many things."

Selah looked over to see the healer bowing in humility, though the man must have known his patient couldn't see it.

"And?"

"And, I've learned that Ishgard has returned to rebuild Falcon's Nest."

Briefly, a pang of nostalgia shot through her.  Messenger falcons constantly going hither and yonder amid pale blue skies.  Hunting parties of noble knights singing songs of victory over the dragons in the local pub.  Her father wiping the sweat from his brow as he hauled sacks of freshly milled grain, and offering her another honey-cream roll before dinner, that as always, would remain between father and daughter.

Eyes filled with contempt and arrogance that bore into her own, as that condescending and commanding voice told her that she was now property.

Selah shook herself from her memories.  "What of it?"

The patient drew in an unsteady breath, "If the Holy See places some random noble or knight-commander to oversee Falcon's Nest, it will serve as nothing but another military outpost for continuing the war against the Dragons.  But if I could return to Ishgard, and reclaim my family's status, then I could become commander of the reconstruction effort."

"Nophica's tits, get to the POINT Geoffrey!"

Silence filled the small room, and time felt as if it had temporarily halted.  Burnished Snow was positively stunned, while a small grin formed upon Geoffrey's lips.

"I want to restore Falcon's Nest as a place to live again, Selah.  A place the people we lived alongside in our younger days can return to, in spite of the Calamity, to prove the indomitable spirit of our people.  Think of it, Selah.  As I understand it, the citizens of Falcon's Nest survive among the poor and disenfranchised of Ishgard, struggling to survive off the diminishing good will of the ruling nobility."

Geoffrey struggled to push himself part way up, facing toward Selah.  His lips turned in a dismal scowl.  "Few among Coerthas' denizens worked harder for the nation, and took more pride in their contributions, than the farmers, falconers and millers of our home.  They deserve better.  I can give them that."

It was absolutely true.  Those of the home village had always worked tirelessly for Ishgard and her settlements.  To think that they were now so degraded as to be beggars and slum rats... 

"And what do you need me for?  I have no intention of returning to Coerthas."

The patient lied back with a strained grunt.  "I assumed.  From what I gather, you have quite a life for yourself, now.  Respected member of the primal-slaying Scions, and a dragoon who has put many of our cousins from Coerthas to shame with your unprecedented raw talent.  Even the lover you have taken has quite a reputation for herself."

Selah's carefully stoic expression twisted into an angry snarl.  Her heart began to thunder in her chest, and a hand instinctively reached for the lance harnessed on her back.  "What do you know?"

Another strained laugh that quickly decayed into a hacking cough.  "If you're worried I'm angry, I'm not.  That is your path, and I am glad you have something to make you happy.  Gridania's Emerald Lancer is, perhaps, the only one suitable for our Sapphire Dragoon, anyway."

Her grip on her weapon relaxed, and she noticed the look of relief on the healer's face.  Was he afraid of a violent outburst?  Well, had a threat been leveled against Ginal, that fear would be very, very validated.

"My point is, Selah, that you are among the few, if not the only one, who is capable of doing what needs done to put me back together, so that I can return to rebuild Falcon's Nest."

Coerthas would benefit more from mills, farms and hunters than it would from another fortress.  If there was anyone with the stubborn arrogance needed to tame the frozen wastes that used to be her home, it was Geoffrey.

"Alright... I'll help you."

Geoffrey's lips turned up in a relieved smile.  "Wonderf-"

"But I'm not doing this for you, understand?"

"Of course.  You owe me noth-"

"And it's not without condition."

His jaw clenched as he lied silent for a moment.  "You will receive whatever you think is fair."

"I don't want any of your money, land or titles.  I want a divorce."

"Yes, of course.  It is the least I can do for you."

Selah's eyes narrowed upon the broken man.  Her blood suddenly felt like fire in her veins, her heart a constant thunder in her chest.  Her fists tightened into white-hot balls as she began to tremble.

I don't need you to tell me what you can do.  I don't need you to tell me what I owe to anyone.  Consider yourself lucky I haven't put you out of your misery, you arrogant shit stain on mankind.  If I knew it wouldn't burn this bridge I need, I'd tell all the ways you can burn in the hells.

"Yes, it most certainly is."  She turned to the almost diminutive roegadyn beside her, locking her gaze with his through a hardened expression.

"Healer, what do I need to do?"

Cold silence.  Empty darkness.  Ginal sat, naked and alone in the endless black.

What happened?  Where is everyone?  Mama?  Daddy?  Grezel? 

Selah?

"It's the same thing that always happens, darling.  Everyone who claims to love us has abandoned us, as does this world ever stand against us."  The voice belonged to a woman, sultry and sweet.

No... That can't be right.  They'll come for me!  Especially Selah!

"Oh, darling.  It's just you and, me.  Like it always was."

Ginal hugged her knees, trembling as tears rolled down her cheeks.  A soft tickle played across the back of her neck, and she realized is was a tail gently wrapping around.  It was lined with almost blood-red furr.

I'm scared... What will I do?  I don't want to be alone...

"You're not alone, darling.  You have me, as you always have."

Arms wrapped around Ginal in a tight, loving embrace.  

"You've been through so much, darling.  Why don't you rest?  I'll watch over you."

Yes.  I'm so tired.  Just a rest to recover... Then I'll figure everything out.  Maybe Selah can't find me, but I can go find her.

The loving arms helped Ginal lie back.  She couldn't identify a face, but there was a loving smile.  As she drifted off, she thought she met the gaze of eyes that glowed a pure, emerald green.