#nyx ashkala
(I wrote this blurb because the quests completely inspired me, however, I’m also falling asleep so don’t expect much, lmao. It’s not done.)
He’d left her.
He’d actually left here there, like a jackass.
The timing was horrid. Absolutely hellbent on destroying everything before that vital moment when he’d have to leave again. His mind was torn between an actual connection, lust, desperation, and a call to duty he’d never felt himself pulled to before.
Nyx hissed through his teeth as the frigid air of Ishgard lashed against the stubble on his face. He tugged the thick, lined coat that concealed the inkings on his neck from the world further up until his face was obscured enough to begin this trek home. It was well past the twelfth bell and nay a single life could be seen on the streets.
She’d been wanted by a thug, a man who couldn’t be scorned by a woman, and he’d mentally left himself back in her room, that instinctual need to protect springing into action. But instead, his body had moved of its own accord. His heart had a mission that his mind disagreed with.
Rook had already placed his preparations at an undisclosed location and he found the pack with ease despite the snow having drowned it from prying eyes. It smelled like the bar. Like Rook. It comforted him to some degree even though he would never admit to it.
The Seeker hoisted the thing into his back and reached into a coat pocket for a pair of leather gloves fitted with fur from some fiber bearing creature, and began pulling them tightly over each finger. He’d only snapped out of the early process of travel when something fell to the ground. The red spade shone brightly atop the corporeal bitterness that lined the street and he reached for the card that hosted it. The ace of spades. She’d tucked it into his coat as he left and even now he wondered why she’d been content to lose a card from her deck. What did it mean to her? The explanation had been lost in his haste to get moving.
Some stirring in the chain of rumor had hinted that all who were willing to offer a hand in Garlemald were to convene at a specified place and time, but he’d missed it by several suns. His only choice was to pay for a private service to drop him in the wilderness outside of the main city. Regio Urbanissima. He’d manage to find someone, but only by the skin of his teeth. He’d not be arriving with the others, but he’d still manage to get to Garlemald no matter the cost.
—————Several suns later————-
His feet landed on solid ground after far too much time in the skies. Nyx wasn’t quite fond of leaving it for extended ranges towards the heavens, but he’d endured. Much to the disapproval of his stomach and his head.
They’d named the Camp “Broken Glass” and as he treaded ground, his coat pulled as close to his body as possible, he realized why the name had stuck.
The sun had already begun to disappear beyond the mountains when he’d arrived and to his surprise, someone amongst the machinists had prepared a cot for him in one of the annex buildings just south of the aetheryte. What little fire they could conjure up managed to keep the cold at bay enough that everyone inside would be able to sleep with some degree of comfort.
Golden eyes analyzed every soul within his temporary housing and he eventually laid back on the cot, one that might have been a touch too short for him. After all, telling organizations that he was a Miqo’te often led to… misunderstandings about height. Nyx had been about to roll over when the voices of two Garlean refugees made his ears raise the slightest bit. He’d almost failed to notice their allegiance until he noted a very familiar insignia across the shoulder of a jacket.
His jaw set and he went deathly still, finally rolling over just so that they wouldn’t know he was eavesdropping.
“Do you really believe they’re here to save us? Have you lost all sense? We’re going to be delivered soon and then we can fight back… These savages won’t pull masks over all of our eyes… You’re too soft.”
“You’ve lost all reason, all sense. We can’t do this on our own. It’s certain death if you run from them and deny their aid… Do you want to end up like your family? Stubborn… and very dead.”
Nyx’s eyes widened as the conversation continued on, but more to his horror was the realization that he’d been misled to attend a Garlean recovery process. He sucked in a breath and his fingers dug into the cotton of the cot. Tonight, Grace would remain at his side, her body polished and her chambers filled.
A hushed breath spoke into the fabric and a huskiness settled in his chest, one that came out in a whisper, “Garleans… they’re helpin’ tha Garleans… Wha’ fresh hells is this?”.
(More writing to sustain me xP. Can’t be held responsible for typos. In the car sooooo…)
The seasons had already begun to fly by, even in a land that made them nearly impossible to detect. Despite parts of Garlemald being desolate and seemingly forever frozen, Nyx had witnessed a few telltale changes that tipped him off.
And even with all of this, not much changed about him either. His thirty sixth season came and went, not a soul to celebrate or remember it. It served no purpose anyways and he didn’t resent the silence.
A’lluca periodically came to his quarters for a briefing on whatever it was that was going on outside and Nyx silently cursed his injuries healing at a snail’s pace. The healing magic that had been applied to them had been under duress, making them rushed and in need of finessing later on. Several surgeries later and the Seeker was still awaiting a clearance.
His fellow Seeker continued trying to patch up a torn past with him and each time he felt like her attempts would eventually work, but it typically had the opposite effect. Instead, he felt further from her and the others stationed in the militaristic country. The desire to set out alone was eating at the recesses of his mind every day until he found their presence almost grating.
——————-
Today’s briefing at least brought good news with it. A recently thought lost squadron was found holding out in an abandoned outpost and brought back to the makeshift headquarters that Nyx was in. He’d also been updated on his status, which was upgraded to “stable and able”. His nose scrunched as A’lluca said it with far too much pep for his liking. Even as she removed the bandages around his middle, he groaned at her when she leaned in to kiss his cheek, “Oh c’mon, not even a smile? You’re really starting to worry me, A’ri….”.
Her words fell short as he reached up and pinched her lips together. Both of her eyebrows lifted in surprise and she placed both of her hands upon his to move his giant one, “Hey!”.
He smirked crookedly at her before he dropped his arm into his lap and both eyes shifted to look at the window in his room, “Nyx… It’s Nyx”.
The redhead pouted and threw her hands up dramatically, brows now furrowed, “Where did you even get that nickname? It seems like it came from a bad place”.
Nyx’s smirk fell off of his lips and was replaced by a thin line, his jaw setting as he breathed in. Both ears had pinned against his head with his irritation, but the lilt came out anyways, “Find my cigarettes an’ I may tell ye…”.
A’lluca’s eyes lit up and she clapped both of her hands together before she got to her dainty feet. The bushy appendage behind her might as well have belonged to a dog, wagging with simple happiness, “Progress! I like it! I’ll be right back, stay there!”.
And as she jumped from her chair, disappearing into the hallway, the door clicked loudly behind her. A shout could be heard from the other side followed by an answering laugh, deep and amused.
“Come back later, A’lluca”.
Suddenly, the air sucked from his lungs and he felt like he was downing. The room was spinning, as much as he knew it wasn’t. Each attempt to inhale caught in his throat and he wondered if he’d somehow fallen into a river and the last several bells were a hallucination his mind had concocted in his final moments.
A hand rested on his shoulder and suddenly his soul returned to his body with a rather dramatic jerk of his body. Nyx’s eyes darted to the side and he watched her form his peripheral.
She was an incredibly attractive Seeker of the Sun. With hair a shade brighter than a summer sunset, fiery and red, and eyes that glimmered like emeralds, she was every bit the image of a wild coeurl. The woman’s smile was infectious and her frame was perfect in every way… except when eyes met her tail. It was shorter than usual and had obviously seen trauma with its bobbed appearance. It didn’t stop her though, instead jerking side to side with mischief as she spoke. A’lluca’s voice was melodic and musical, and it commanded attention without force.
“I know it’s a lot, but for what it’s worth, we’re all still here fighting. Most of us, anyways.”
Nyx’s eyes continued following her as she stood and splayed her hands out in front of her, stretching herself as she finally looked to his face, “Ye say most… m’guessin’ I knoo who tha straggler is…”. A’lluca’s ears pinned back and an expression of remorse spread across her features.
“If your guess was your father, than yes…”, she hesitated and green eyes rested on him, “When your mother passed away, he began coming here on expeditions trying to find some way to dismantle the Garleans from the inside, but as many do, he found himself drawn to them. While we see them for what they are, some find them rather charismatic and are unable to work against them.”
Nyx’s body stiffened and he sighed slowly through gritted teeth. Both fists curled in on the blanket that covered his lower half and sharpened nails nearly tore through the fabric.
“Weapons specialist, m’guessin’?”
A’lluca nodded and refused to make eye contact with him. The bob of a tail behind her twitched erratically as she sifted through the words in her head, “Magitek specialist. It would seem that he has a bit of an issue that should sound strikingly familiar to you”. She canted her head with an awkward smile and a finger raised to point at the ridiculous amounts of tattoos that covered her fellow Seeker’s body.
A shiver made its way down his spine and a feeling of something catching in his throat made him uncomfortable enough that he tried to rise from his bed. The splitting pain of wounds healed far too quickly resonated his entire being and he fell back against his pillow again. A sheen of sweat covered his face and he growled at the back of his throat.
“A’rihan, you should probably rest. One of our medics had to patch you up quicker than expected so you’re going to be in a lot of pain for a few suns.”
“Nyx.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s Nyx. Cut that A’rihan shite. Dunnae appreciate tha name.”
A’lluca’s face almost seemed sad at his sudden demand and she reached outwards to touch the man’s shoulder. The blonde caught her hand, almost pulling his own back just as quickly, and decided to press it back towards her. Her touch made him want to curl up on himself and the sensation was foreign to him. It was the first time he realized he didn’t want anyone getting close to him. She let forth a soft gasp whenever he moved her away from him and her brows knit together when she noticed he wouldn’t look at her, “I’m sorry we all failed you earlier in life. We want to make it up to you but you’re going to have to let us in to do that”.
“I dunnae deal in emotions, lass… M’nae ‘ere to settle on past deeds either…”, he kept his face turned away from her and instead watched small winter birds flit by the window behind his makeshift bed.
(Here’s a continuation of the blurb I wrote a few weeks ago. Trying to get everything set up for Endwalker. We’ll get there someday!)
(Just throwing these random scenes on here)
The thudding rang out through the container over… and over… Nyx’s ears went numb after a few moments and he hissed under his breath with ragged, short gasps as another creature rammed into his temporary shelter.
One hand steadied him against the inside as old crates and mechanical pieces threatened to batter him into oblivion. The Seeker felt his legs almost give as wood collided with the back of his shins. Another hiss of pain escaped his lips as he faltered, falling to a knee and throwing his ears back as he desperately sought an end to the jarring.
And then it stopped. Everything became still and quiet. He secretly wondered if Damask had fallen victim to the massive worms that had surrounded him, but no sounds ever came to him. Perhaps the snow had started up again, or with his luck, a larger ‘thing’ had feasted on them.
/Sputter…Splat/
He didn’t have time to feel. Everything came rushing to him far before the pain ever struck.
Amber eyes slowly crept upwards to where his right arm hung lifelessly against the metal walls of the crate behind him. A large, organic needle-like spear had sunk its way through his forearm…
Another. There was no reaction as it shot through the crate into his side. Again. Another joined that one through his left thigh, almost piercing through.
The pain came coursing in like an electric current through his body and his voice sounded foreign as he cried out in the darkness.
/Was that…me? Am I…dying?/
Precious life fluids sprang to life from his mouth as one last needle shot forth through a hole that now shone light through like a beam. Nyx could smell it, warm and metallic. Despite it, he felt suddenly exhausted. A nap sounded particularly nice.
“Don’t you dare close your eyes, A’rihan.”
————————————-
He shot straight up and immediately regretted it. Pain unlike any he’d felt before radiated from his stomach throughout his entire being. The sheer shock of it made him double over, grasping at this stomach before vomiting to the side of his bed.
Bed?
“If you keep this up, you’re going to reopen your wounds…”, his eyes focused towards the source of the voice and amber eyes fixed on a small Seeker woman who toiled with a rapier in the corner of the room he found himself in. Her red fur gave her a bit of an edgy appearance but her equally piercing crimson eyes made him narrow his eyes as she dared him to combat her warning.
The room itself was simple enough. Dark, metal walls made up the entire thing and his very crude, filthy bed was one of two pieces of furniture. The other was the chair that the woman sat in next to a reinforced window. Beyond that, fires seemed to blaze in the distance, lighting the sky up like the world’s end was creeping up on them.
“A’lluca…”, Nyx’s voice sounded ragged but he acknowledged her. His gaze moved down to look at the bloody dressings that covered his entire torso and he imagined that the same could be said for the rest of him. Somehow he could even move the arm that had been skewered. Not broken… but sore as the Hells.
“I’m surprised you remember that name, much less me. I underestimated you, I see”, the Miqo’te twitched the end of her tail in anticipation before she smirked. Both of her hands had begun to polish the rapier across her lap and she now stared at him time to time like some long lost lover.
“How could ye forget? Still obsessed with me?”
“In your dreams. I’m only here because your father asked me to be. You’re lucky I showed up when I did or you’d be worm fodder. I found you while they were opening the sardine can.”
She straightened until her posture made him almost uncomfortable. The blonde visibly cringed before he joined her in the serious atmosphere, “Dunnae feel like m’on the same page, bu’ m’nae in tha mood t’argue”.
“Wow, a first… but that is neither here nor there. I have a job to complete before I’m allowed to show you where to go”, she seemed almost eager, chomping at the bit, to speak her piece. Nyx merely watched her before he sighed heavily. She took this as a sign of cooperation and her lips parted before she spoke.
“First of all, let it be known that if you cause any trouble, you’ll be eliminated. Your complete cooperation is a must right now. Secondly, if we find out that your allegiance is with your father, you’ll end up in the same boat. And lastly, let it be known that your little mystical surname is the only reason you’re here.”
A single, blonde brow lifted above a scarred eye and he inclined his head the slighted bit, “Please do tell…”.
A’lluca’s fangs appeared through her lips and a soft, almost triumphant sound riddled the air, “Ashkala is the clan name of the Garlean refugees, A’rihan. It’s protection… Your -mother-chose it, not your old man”.
A sound died on the air from his lips. It spat into existence before sniffing out into nothing. As A’lluca looked up from her rapier towards him, she noted the most curious look.
The large man had reached up and his fingers tangled in his own hair. Each one gripped at the sides of his hair tightly and he shuddered so that his broad shoulders quaked with him. He looked incapable of speech and his eyes hid behind loose, blonde locks.
“A’rihan, you lived in the Sagolii but… you weren’t born there. None of us were… I’m sorry.”
(With Endwalker looming ahead, I’ve been trying to write out some story for Nyx while I battle some pretty awful depression. Don’t expect greatness, but here’s some reading. I apologize for any typos since this was written on my phone.)
“Front Gate Breach… Did you fucking HEAR ME? Aleksander… answer your fucking pearl!”
“Aleksander…ALEKSANDER!”
“I ain’t feckin’ Aleksander… Bu’ ye ‘ave more problems than yer front gate bein’ breached…”
—————————————
**Fourteen suns earlier**
A large, three-toed foot caused dust to rise each time it plodded along a cracked and thirsty ground. Patterns rippled across its surface as if it tried its best to replicate the surface of the sun, the water scattering and snuffing out into the thick air before it could fully hide below.
The warking of a Chocobo, and a consequential cough as the dust choked it’s lungs, caused its rider to pull back the reins harshly before he joined it on the dried sands. A strong hand plucked the leather bits off the saddle and close to his waist as his boots added to the crunching around them.
A thick lilt was almost inaudible as a gust of wind enveloped them, “Jus’ think. Las’ time ye were here, ye wanted i’ t’be hotter”. The blonde Miqo’te elbowed the massive red bird next to him and it squawked in protest, head arching as it snapped close to his arm. “Believe me, dunnae plan t’be ‘ere longer’n we ‘ave t’be”.
The Seeker’s body was mostly covered by a scarf that clung around his neck, pulled up around his face so that the only things visible were the points of his ears and a determined amber visage. Bare shoulders rippled with ink work and tanned skin looked the slightest bit darker than usual. Thick work boots, laced tightly, treaded upon the dried lake beneath them without a hitch. A pair of hip-hugging leather pants were held aloft by a belt lined with more ammunition and tools than were likely necessary, but they were arranged enough that they weren’t burdensome.
The most noticeable detail about the man was the weapon that held closely to his back. It had a very obvious plethora of uses, but the form it held was that of a scythe, high above his head and glistening in the sun. Its wicked curved held an almost antique charm to it, but parts of it paid homage to the gunblades and firearms known by only Garlemald itself.
The thought of a homecoming for Grace made Nyx smile, the crooked grin creeping into the dimples close to his fangs. He often wondered whose weapon he’d recovered all those seasons ago and the thought of someone wanting revenge for improving its design made his tail twitch in excitement.
He’d already been traveling for some time, searching for the most remote entry to the empire that brought dread the world over. It wasn’t his first rodeo, but he wasn’t expecting the extreme change in climate. The last time he’d been in the hellscape, it was covered in a ridiculous layer of ice and snow, frigid to the point that he thought he’d die in his sleep if he had to take shelter somewhere. Thankfully, the destrier of a bird that he often figured would abandon him at his worst came through in a surprising series of events.
The current mission was something new. Knowledge that his father was, indeed, alive was jarring enough on its own. Unfortunately, the old man was found to be working under the Garleans either against his will or perfectly free. He’d said something that kept Nyx on his toes and his head swimming. A history in Garlemald… Had he really been holed up there this whole time or was it some sort of misunderstanding?
The Destrier jerked to a halt suddenly and Nyx’s eyes snapped forward and out of his own mind. A massive shadow crept towards them over the invisible horizon. Where the heat rose and swam with its false hope of clear oceans, a massive structure flew through the air like a giant crypt… Blood red hues clung to a black material that looked too organic to be leaving the land, like a great vulture, sickly and lurching.
Both sets of eyes followed it for a moment before they realized the thing was headed their direction. Nyx felt his heartbeat in his ears as he flashed glances around them. No cover. Not even the smallest hint of foliage. His bird companion seemed to understand the predicament, and like clockwork, began to run in the opposite direction from the Seeker. A few expletives escaped his lips before he sprinted after it.
As the structure loomed directly overhead, both of them fell to the ground, Nyx’s hands covering his head and the destrier’s beak pressed into the dirt as if two ilms of sand hid his entire body. It was in that moment that they both realized the massive Flying Fortress had continued on as if it hadn’t seen them at all. It was on a mission, perhaps seeing them or not.
The Miqo’te rose to his feet, dusting himself off as he looked over to his companion. The bird shook its head and fluffed up twice its size before it shook violently, dust shooting in all directions. If he hadn’t just experienced the massive craft, Nyx might have chuckled at the animal. Instead, he reached out and took the reins of the oddly compliant companion, tugging him forward and onward towards their original destination.
-——————
Suns passed by them like the slow, steady creep of death was behind them every step of the way. No signs of civilization showed itself and a few times Nyx questioned his ability to track his way. Even the usual stubbornness of his Chocobo had ceased and it simply went along with whatever the Seeker had him do, hoping that he’d find mercy on them both and head back towards Ishgard.
The horizon started to disappear for what was likely seven suns into their journey. Oranges and reds were swallowed up by deep purples and the smallest hint of real hid at the base of what looked like distant mountain ranges. The first signs of terrain change.
As before, the pair simply stopped where there were after Nyx made a few marks in the dried earth with a boot so they wouldn’t be disoriented come morning. A few rods and a tarp made for an easy shelter, but an odd wind had started to blow in once the sun had disappeared behind the range in the distance. The last gasps of orange cast an eerie glow on everything that could be seen, which wasn’t much.
Nyx had just laid out beneath the lean-to when he shot straight up. Chittering? Or howling… The wind that pushed dust along with it muffled a noise several malms away, but he knew he wasn’t hearing things as the great bird near to him raised its head and turned to face the same direction he’d looked.
/Skkkkkkeeeeee…. Aaaa…./
“Seven Hells… Damask… on yer feet… looks like we’re gonnae ‘ave company…”, the Chocobo clacked its beak as it stood, a foot pawing the ground as if readying itself. Nyx slid forward and out of his temporary bedding, a hand sliding out to grasp at the great scythe that hid beneath a blanket. As his fingers gripped the length of steel that made up the vast majority of the weapon, the tattoos along his arms glowed with a bright blue, the ornate details rippling down his flesh until each one had joined the first.
The Seeker took on a wide stance and his ears flattened at a new sound. His hearing was much more valuable than sight since the sun had disappeared entirely. All he could see were the crimson feathers of the beast beside him…. Which didn’t make the click, click, clicking sound surrounding them any less formidable.
He heard it every now and the. With the rushing of the wind, but it mostly drowned it out. One sounded behind him… then a few fulms away. A flash of silver and gold shone briefly in the light from his body, and then disappeared in the dust. He turned just in time for a flash of teeth and barely managed to side step it, although he found himself grazed by an unsightly appendage.
Again. A flash of teeth and another round of flailing claws breezed past him. This time Damask caught it with a kick of strong legs and the blood curdling scream they’d heard in the distance became disturbingly close for comfort.
“Aye, we’ve gotta get oot o’here… they’re underground. Damask, let’s go!”, he reached out just as another massive jaw lurched from the sands in front of him, sending the Chocobo hurtling to the side with a sickening thud. Thankfully he’d only been knock led away as far the Seeker could tell, but he was down for the count. It was time to draw them away or the bird would be a meal for what was likely four or five very hungry sand worms.
Nyx turned on a heel and ran in whatever direction fate would have him. A blur of blue was all he could see with inhuman screams sounding behind him. They reacted to sounds, to vibrations. Each step elicited a noise from them and it was obvious he’d become the hunt. The weapon in his hand dragged the ground as the Miqo’te continued forward. Added noise ensured they would follow but one misstep would be his last. Every now and then he knew he heard them breach the surface and then dive back underground.
Stopping would be suicide, and though his legs felt like they were on fire, he continued. The chase seemed endless and he knew he wouldn’t have much longer unless Lady Luck was on his side. He wasn’t afraid of death, but he’d definitely be disappointed if his story ended before he’d gotten answers.
Just as his mind had convinced him he’d need to come to terms with being eaten by massive worms in the deserts of Garlemald, he found himself tripping and connecting rather harshly with something metal. It echoed with the collision which also made his ears ring. “Fuck’s sake!”.
When he managed to open his eyes, realization struck hard and heavy. It was the supply crate that he’d hid in many many moons ago when he’d had to breach a laboratory. The writing on its side had a bunch of gibberish about medical things he’d rather not spend time on. With no hesitation, he rushed to the front of it and flipped up a metal door that rose with a little force. When he managed to get inside, he slammed it shut just in time to hear something outside colliding with it in a similar fashion to his discovery.
They had intentionally crashed themselves against, one after the other. The crate shook violently each time but somehow managed to hold its own. He was safe, for now.
By the time Nyx had reached the Raven’s Nest again, his clothes had soaked through from the consistent pelting of sleet and rain. It would no doubt freeze as the night wore on, but for now Ishgard remained just warm enough that any unfortunate soul outside experienced two of its worse qualities in one single instance.
The Seeker paused at the large, Mahogany door and glared at the little hatch in front that rested behind a few bars. It was the useless speak-easy Rook had installed upon for a more authentic look. Now, it merely reminded him of how badly he wished to kill the Elezen that tended the bar inside. Every part of him wished to stroll through the door and end the pathetic creature’s existence. Instead, he found himself forehead first against the wood and sliding down until his knees met with searingly cold cobblestone. His joints protested and screamed for him to rise again, but he resisted.
Eventually he turned around and rested his shoulders to the door, neck lifted and eyes closed despite his skyward tilt. Above him, the rain had turned to massive snowflakes that made the city both beautiful and eerily quiet. This bothered Nyx a great deal until he laughed out loud, a sarcastic edge to the emotion that could verge on either amusement or insanity. It didn’t even echo, lost in the silence. An amber eye cocked open and he reached up to dig around in the small pocket near to his heart, procuring his biggest vice. A small lighter clocked open and hefted towards his lips where he’d placed a slightly bent cigarette between chafed lips, springing to life with a flame all to eager to consume the paper offering.
The cold was almost unbearable and it gathered in his hair, snowflakes forming in the loose ponytail that hung over one shoulder. Had it been the first time he found himself in such a position, he might have sulked back inside and crept upstairs to find a myriad of blankets. However, this night he was fueled by a rage that only bubbled beneath the surface… under a very thin veil of control. The man that had managed to force every ounce of independence in him could have shot him square in the chest and he’d have been better off than his current predicament.
The Sagolii had been all he could remember, and also his reason for forgetting. His earliest memories were there, struggling to fit into a society where his birth wasn’t accepted in any capacity. It was a small wonder the tribe leader allowed him to exist at all. There had always been an odd fear that ‘A’rihan’ had never understood in regards to his father. He was a Tia… there shouldn’t have been even an ounce of fear from the rest towards him, but there it was. The children were the worst of all, calling the bastard child all manner of indecent slurs. His mother did her best to soothe any doubts from his mind.
Nyx loosed another bark of a laugh but this time his teeth clenched until the lot end of his cigarette fell into his lap and he ended patting at his leather pants before a new hole found its way onto them, “Feck…!”.
He got to his feet with a hand on his knee and a grunt as his back protested. Ishgard was never kind to him even though he’d chosen the hellhole to… well, hole up. The bar beckoned for him to come inside as the heat from patrons leaving wafted against him, his body almost refusing to move as someone shoved through the front door.
What was the next move? Did he even dare to find out what truths his ‘dead’ father had decided to spring on him? What would it change? He thought of returning to Garlemald made him mentally want to vomit. And what would he tell her? That she had to leave Ishgard because another woman was there to seduce him into allowing her to arrest him? No… surely they’d go for her too… They had to be looking for her in some capacity too.
A breath of air whistled through his clench teeth and his jaw set. A millions questions and no clear answers would be the death of him.
The door shifted again and suddenly a raven-haired man peered around the door jamb. When he met eyes with the amber-eyed Miqo’te, his icy blue ones widened at the look of pure, unadulterated violence that leaked forth towards him.
He offered a sheepish smile and his teeth looked as if they might break from the pressure he placed on them, “Nyx! Perhaps you’d like to talk over some ale, hm?”.
Reaching forward and slamming the door open fully, the shorter male placed his hand dead center of Rook’s chest and urged him back inside. There was no amusement in his expression as the Elezen took a few strands back inside, “Yer gonnae talk now, or her gonnae feel real daft in a few… aye?”.
“Aye.”
New “chapter” coming up. It’s just to keep the ideas flowing even if the writing isn’t quite where I want it. I apologize if this shows up as wonky, long, and horribly formatted. I will fix on my PC tomorrow if it doesn’t quite do what I want. Written in my phone so please excuse the errors.
———————————————-
The hair stood on the back of his neck and widened eyes turned slowly towards the figure behind him. He didn’t need to see him. The memories rushed back to him in one swift moment. That voice made him feel as if he were three fulms again, ashamed of everything he’d ever accomplished and threefold ready to scale the walls of Ishgard to escape it.
Nyx found himself staring with one eye, a terrified pool of amber, at the man standing not four strides away from him. His stance was seemingly carefree, but his frame was rigid and standoffish without being overly so. It didn’t fool the Seeker into a false sense of security. He knew this meeting wasn’t on pleasant terms.
“Ye fucked off fer what… fifteen seasons? An’ everyone thought ye died… bu’ ye dragged her useless arse back here of all times? Are ye fuckin’ yankin’ me?”
The Miqo’te’s words were harsh, clipped, and thick towards the other, whose lips still remained upturned and smirking. It grated on him… how absolutely ridiculous…
He started to take a step towards Nyx but paused when the larger Seeker started for the gun strapped across his back, “Dunnae take another step. Yer nothin’ t’me… Old man”.
This seemed to please the stranger further and he reached upwards to push some of his straw hued hair from his face. His eyes were darker than Nyx’s, bordering on being orange instead of amber., and gave him a much more menacing gaze when he smiled.
“You’ll have to forgive me, A’rihan. I actually never intended to run into you, however, Rook informed me that you’d actually chosen to inherit my little Ishgardian secret… I find it intensely fascinating!”, he flung his arms wide and his teeth flashed in the light of the aetheryte. Behind him, his tail flickered about like a curious coeurl, animated and excited. Nyx visibly stiffened at the realization that Rook had set him up.
“I always knew your sister would never step foot in this place but I never once in my days thought you, of all people, would actually end up here. Saying I’m proud would be taking it too far, but at least you’re not a complete failure”.
Nyx’s lips pursed and an inhale of air hissed through his teeth. Any other time he’d have breached the gap between them, but it would unfortunately mean touching the disgusting man. Instead, he persisted in watching him with fleeting interest. He did what he could to withdraw from tossing him over the edge of the towering city.
“Dunnae tell me ye came all the way back from the Hells t’shit on me… wha’ d’ye really need…”, his fingers itched to draw his gun and his nerves were fading.
“I suppose you could say I’m here as a messenger so please don’t shoot me… pun intended”, he motioned towards the gunblade resting against the other’s shoulders, “… I imagine you won’t appreciate the news one way or the other, but I had a bit of information to give you and shock factor tends to get to people’s heads a lot quicker, as I’m sure you’re aware”. He shifted his stance and placed his weight on another leg as his eyes met Nyx’s with the face of his smile.
“They’re looking for you now, more than ever. The only reason I was able to find your location is because they’ve known this entire time, A’rihan. You know it to be true. But what you’ve not been cognizant of… is that you’re tied to them more than you know”.
“Tha fuck’re ye on aboot?”, Nyx’s ears had fallen against his skull and his teeth clenched shut so that the skin around his jaw pulled taut.
“Garlemald, boy. Did you never question why you were never accepted by any of the tribe? I can assure you it was not because of your controversial conception… It was because I-“.
“Stop”, the Seeker bristled and his fingers had balled into fists at his sides. He’d completely forgotten the howling gales around them despite the whipping of the ponytail behind him, “Dunnae say a thing more or I’ll sink a bullet in yer forehead”.
“Do I even need to say more? Surely you’ve figured it out by now”.
He was about to continue when a clicking of heeled boots sounded next to them. The hazy street produced a figure, one of smaller stature, that neared them. Nyx heard the voice before he saw the face, “My dearest A’trellon, that’s quite enough for now… You’ve had your moment, but I’m afraid it’s time to head home… You’ve been very bad and we both know you’ve said a bit too much, hm? You know they’re going to have to give you a few pinches when you return”.
“Antiquia…”, both of the men stuttered the word out as the woman came into view. In both hands were some form of handgun, most likely altered to suit her combat needs, and each was pointed at the two. The darker skinned beauty smiled at them with ruby lips as raven hair laid in shiny curls around her face. Eyes as red as the blood moon leered at them with an energy that conflicted with her confident smirk. A third, much smaller orb tested just above her brow and between her eyes. As she looked to Nyx, she offered him a wink followed by a nod with her chin, “A’rihan… oh I’m sorry, you still go by Nyx don’t you? Such a silly nickname… nothing about you is dark or imposing really… but I do have to thank you for keeping my pet preoccupied while I searched for him. It’s too bad I’m a little busy right now or I could have had a two for one… Oh well. It really just means another trip to this charming, quaint little establish. Cute, really”.
A’trellon glared at her but seemed neither stunned nor surprised by his predicament. Instead, Nyx watched in absolute confusion as he walked over slowly and offered the woman his hands. She lowered the gun fixed on him and began attaching a device around his throat that resembled a dog collar. When she’d had it properly affixed, her crimson eyes searched Nyx’s and her smile never faded, “Now, do be a good boy and make our second trip a little easier. See how well behaved your father is, A’ri- Nyx?”. She turned from him, lowering the other gun much to his surprise, and began disappearing into the fog that surrounded them, “Can’t wait for you to see your home, Little Miqo’te”.
A’trellon disappeared with her and his newly reunited son made no attempts to rescue him… but the younger’s realization had hit him… Where had he been born exactly? There was no third eye… Miqo’te couldn’t be… No. Pet?
“…There’s no feckin’ way…”.
(Don’t mind me, just dumping some headcanon ideas for Nyx. There’s gonna be typos galore and it probably doesn’t flow well, but this is more for my sanity than anything. Written on the phone so please excuse grammar and such… There’s more eventually so don’t worry about the confusing bits in here that make no sense!) Written while listening to this:
Daylight was fading in and out of existence as the sun ducked out from behind clouds in a feeble attempt to thaw the streets of Ishgard. It fell beyond the jutting staircases and the broad cobblestone laden walkways, snuffed out much like the cigarette grasped by the sun’s witness.
There was a slight movement in a dark room and suddenly a flame sparked to life with the click of a mechanism along the edge of a kerosene lamp. Amber eyes came alive behind it, a downtrodden expression keeping them company. The man’s age was starting to show in the lines around his cheeks.
Tobacco tinged breath drifted from between his lips as he sighed, leaning back in a creaky wooden chair with a worn leather backrest. A black tank top gripped his torso and a pair of well-loved machinist’s chaps clung to his thighs. He’d kicked his boots off haphazardly somewhere when he’d arrived to the apartment and one of them hung precariously on the edge of the bed, ready to join its matched brethren on the floor next to it.
Something about his posture gave away the unusual unease in the Miqo’te’s body. He was stiff. Too tense. The tendons in his arms strained as he simply picked up a few metal findings on the old cherry desk behind him and rolled them in his palm. In his other hand, a worn piece of parchment, small and discolored, threatened to rip between two tightly gripped fingers and when he stopped moving, it was obvious that a small tremble surfaced in the digits.
Nyx turned in his chair so that his back faced the lamp and he held the parchment up closer, scrutinizing everything about it to its core. His eyes frantically searched the page for any sign of error and when they were left wanting, he eventually slammed it on the desk and tossed the bits in his other hand atop it. The chair moaned as his weight lifted from it and he began to pace the small space. His bare feet padded along the hardwood until he stopped along the bear rug that peeked from beneath his bed.
The Seeker’s gaze shifted to the window, eyes scanning each drift of snow as they shot past it with the usual howling gales provided by Ishgard’s absurd heights into the skies. As if drawn to the panes with purpose, he hissed in a breath when the cold from the glass bit at his fingers. Having learned his lesson, he resigned to craning his neck to get a better view of the Brume below, trying to see if any patrons still weathered the blizzard making its way into town.
“Surely nae… “, he remarked to no one in particular as he turned away and walked to the other side of the bed. In a single motion, he’d swept up his boots and already begun to lace them up on his feet. The bed lurched as he pressed himself up andcleared the room in a few steps, grasping for a thick coat with a fur lining and swinging it onto his arms. There was a dull thud as he made his way down the stairs towards the bar that resided just below his dwelling. It was still in full swing even though the sun had retired and would be until it made its debut again.
A raven-haired Elezen behind the bar had taken notice of the sounds from above and his wolfish eyes fixed on Nyx as he cleared the corner. Too busy to exchange words, he simply nodded to the Miqo’te, assuming he’d be going out dressed as he was. His assessment was correct when he was met by a blast of frigid air and the complaints from several patrons seated near him.
The door clicked closed behind Nyx and he exhaled. Steam rose from already bluish lips to join the overhead of smoke rising from the Brume. He barely hesitated before he crept forward in the unnerving darkness in the poorest part of the city-state. Only the most prestigious parts would have lanterns outside. After all, who would want to rob the robbers? The malnourished? The destitute and the doomed?
Snow crunched beneath his boots as he moved with a silent purpose towards the main aetheryte square. He often went there for thinking when things got quiet. When perched just right, one could see for malms and malms without the help of devices and gadgets. The Seeker paused at the edge of the architecture and raised one boot to steady himself near the ledge.
Just as he pulled out his lighter, hand tapping a pocket for a cigarette, he heard the faintest sound behind him. Slowly, he turned his head and he froze in places, eyes widened in an uncharacteristic expression.
The man that stood mere fulms behind him could have been his twin aside from the obvious aging on his face and seasons of scars littered around his visage. His eyes had a keen interest in them, one that looked neither friendly nor malicious, but remained half hidden behind a familiar looking style of coat… one with a fur lining that almost made him look like a lion. And when he finally spoke, the corners of his lips upturned in a crooked smile to reveal elongated canines and a tongue that harbored wit and charm.
“Huh. Fancy seeing you here…
A’rihan.”
Returning to some amount of normalcy after a deadly romp In Garlemald proved to be a bit harder than previously thought. Wiping down a sticky bar top or dropping tankards into a cluttered sink wasn’t exactly heroic nor was it riveting by any means.
“Are you going to actually wash those this time or are you going to disappear like last time at the most convenient time?”, one blonde ear fluttered and turned towards the overly sarcastic voice that had suddenly materialized behind it.
“Och, well, ye’ve gone an’ reminded me ‘ve go’ better things t’do. Catch ye later!”
Rook’s hand had already fled to the bridge of his nose and his fingers pinched… as if the action would ever truly bring relief. The Elezen towered over the Seeker in front of him but somehow their energy felt very similar. Raven hair spilled in front of his glasses until he moved it and eventually looked towards the Miqo’te.
Nyx’s lips upturned in a crooked smile and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Ye knoo, fer one o’ those bookish types, ye sure are gullible. An’ ye underestimate meh work ethic… Nae need t’work on anythin’”.
The Elezen looked mostly unconvinced until the Seeker brandished something from a pocket, brow lifting as if the thing might spontaneously combust in front of him. Before the piece could be placed out of sight, he rushed forward and snatched it out of Nyx’s hand, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or disappointed. Do you actually think she’ll like this? But then by the same token… I doubt she expected anything at all from you except maybe some disgusting disease. Are you sure she’s not blind?”.
Nyx’s smile faded and he snagged the ‘thing’ back to place it safely in his pocket again, “Och, please. Ye think she’d go fer someone like ye? You’d bore ‘er t’death ‘fore ye could ge’ ‘er panties off”.
Rook’s expression shifted to something akin to boredom and perhaps a little bit of irritation before he started gesturing for the Seeker to leave. He’d already grasped a few plates and idly began to clean them up for the night, “You’d better go for a smoke before I steal her from you too. Don’t test me.”
A bark of a laugh echoed the small tavern as the blonde popped a furred collar up around a grizzled jaw and a lighter clicked to life just before he disappeared out into a howling gale and blinding white.
(Sorry, recovering from Covid so my brain is absolutely in a fog. This isn’t good, let’s not pretend it is, lmao.)
It always started exactly the same.
A dish fell in the kitchen, a metallic clanging following suit before a solid thud joined them both. Somewhere in between was a barely audible cry of pain… desperation.
A door slammed open and the sound of footfall stopped, turning into a horrified gasp.
“Mom?”. That voice. It betrayed the body from which it rose. A small child with ragged, short blonde hair and wide, terrified eyes called out in a man’s voice… He looked down at the hand that had curled around the door handle in alarm only to be greeted with the crimson of life fluids.
Suddenly he towered over the crumpled form of a woman whose very life force was draining from her body onto the floor around her. She gripped at her distended belly, double over in agony, “Rihan, please… help me”. He couldn’t move, frozen in time as he watched her try, and fail, to rise it her feet. The blood that taunted him came form beneath her apron, clearly from the pregnancy.
Nyx clenched his fists as he found himself watching the small child that represented everything he hated about himself. His first person view shifted until he stood behind the past specter, watching with a strained jaw as the muted paralysis spread across his face. Every part of him wanted to berate the younger self, to strangle him… to put him out of his misery. Instead, he lowered his head to look away as the boy in front of him sobbed quietly against the doorframe, silently summoning his father as if whispered words would magic the man to them.
13 seasons. 13 seasons too soon. What an idiotic child. What a selfish child. Why didn’t he move?
The Seeker broke like he often did, yelling with broken lungs. Each jab of a fist slid through the memory’s hazy body and he fell to his knees next to his mother, hissing through his teeth in his mind’s eye. Why do I keep having these relapses? I hate this. I HATE THIS.
An oddly soft expression overcame the hardened one as his amber countenance scrolled over the dying creature’s face next to him. Despite knowing the outcome, he tried to run his finger over her face just to have it vanish beneath her cheek. Somehow, the vision of her recognized him and her brilliant pink eyes met with his, “A’rihan… it’s going to be ok. Please don’t hate her… please. She’s going to need you. And you… you’re going to do great things… I’ve seen it”. Her parting advice almost disappeared behind the screams of a hysterical child as he fell to the floor and wallowed in a fetal position.
Those words always wrenched their way into his nerves and the pained look on his face returned in the form of a snarl across his nose. He looked away from her and his hands moved to dig into his own thighs. You’re a liar. You lied to me… She never needed me. We needed you… I needed you…
Thoughts raced in his head like a headache, yet he continued humoring them until they roared like a coeurl. Why the fuck did you abandon me? I’m never going to fulfill your wish, so why do you keep haunting me?!
“Because I believe it… and I know it to be true”
It almost always ended the same way too… The gasp of a man awoken from his own personal he’ll filled the air around him as he sat bolt upright, a sheen of sweat covering his entire body. Blonde hair fell in waves in front of his face as his chest heaved, breath attempting to outrun him in a dash for supremacy. But he’d eventually always catch it, fingers digging into his chest.
“…fuck”
(My writing is awful, so I apologize. I don’t really do a lot anymore, but tonight I have been struggling mentally with my PTSD so I just figured I’d channel that into some little snippet.)
The Seeker desperately bartered with the female Highlander behind the bar. Whiskey was in short supply in Ishgard and the bottle he’d requested was easily ten times the Gil as Ul’dah. His ears slid back, tail falling flat against the creaking boards beneath it, and he gave her a look of sheer amazement, “Och lass, ye think m’nae privy t’tha prices o’ whiskey? Aye… ye’ve nae pegged me fer a fool”.
In that moment, he noticed someone watching his exchange as the woman hissed words back at him from the safety of the wooden counter. Mid sentence he glanced their way, gave them the most award-winning smile he could muster, and turned back to argue to his heart’s content.
New art from the amazing Fusspot. She nailed it with this one. NSFW is on my AD Twitter at @zellbellad.
Ingame reference sheet, ahoy! It’s very incomplete as far as his actual appearance goes, but I think making these is rad so…here you go.
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I received this AMAZING bit of art from @cactusgarrus today! I am so proud of this and the work he did on it! Beautiful job ;;!
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boldwhat consistently applies.
italicizesituational, not always.
both, a priority while fighting.
fight honorably / fight dirty/prefer close-quarters /prefer range / chat during / go silent / low pain tolerance / high pain tolerance / attack in bursts / attack steadily/go for the kill/aim to disarm/fight defensively/bait an opponent’s first strike / strike first / provoked easily / provoke their opponent / tease / get visibly frustrated / shout while attacking / use strategy / focus on their battle / experience conflicting thoughts during battle /rush in recklessly / try to read their opponent before fighting / fight wildly / fight calmly apathetically / fight with anger / fight with excitement / fight because they have to / fight because they want to / fight without regard to wounds / run away when wounded / hide wounds/take a blow to protect another / prefer a blade / prefer a gun / prefer a bow / prefer a shield / prefer a spear/prefer a personalized weapon / prefer magic or spells / prefer brawling / their greatest weakness is physical / their greatest weakness is mental / their greatest weakness is emotional /“transform” for battle /fight as they appear / rely on strength / rely on speed / use everything they have / hide their full potential / exhaust quickly / high stamina / doubt their strength / proceed with caution /behave arrogantly /brag after landing a hit / belittle their abilities / use psychological tactics/use brute strength/ avoid civilians / strike down civilians / damage surroundings / avoid damaging surroundings / signature fighting style /making it up as they go / mastered skill set / learning their skill set / fancy footwork / sloppy footwork / messy fighter / elegant fighter / accept defeat / refuse defeat / beg for mercy / compliment their opponent / insult their opponent / use unnecessary movements ( flips, twirls )/move efficiently / barely move / prefer to dodge/prefer to block / defend their blindside / has no blindside/ use all available advantages / strictly use one main method / play around / hold back / fight ruthlessly / show mercy / wait for opponent to be ready / strike when opponent isn’t ready / fear death / fear pain / fear killing / has PTSD / avoid fighting / has lost a fight/has won a fight/has killed / refuses to kill / want to die standing / would succumb slowly
The past handful of seasons, Nyx has gone from being a proficient polearm user to a master of firearms. His lack of proper aether usage often times has him using traditional cartridges, although he’s been developing evolving weaponry tied to experiments with magitek technology. Traditional bullets have only gotten him so far so he uses aether-enhanced tattoos to allow him to use his aether pool like a normal citizen of Eorzea. These tattoos allow him to use specialty ammo as well as transform his gun, Saving Grace, into one of her many modes.
Tagged by: @nenet-ffxiv
Tagging: Anyone and everyone!
Now with 100% more sass.
Just a little sketch of yours truly from tonight for practice.
ALThttps://www.quotev.com/quiz/11540217/What-Shape-Does-Your-Pain-Take/rp4
Tagged by: @the-icebreaker
Tagging: Anyone that wants to take the quiz.
Describe my OC in One Gif:
Bonus (Gifs I think fit Nyx:
Tagged by: @the-icebreaker
Tagging: Whoever follows this blog now xP
