The mornings were always too bright in Limsa Lominsa, the way the sun reflected off of the white limestone and invaded every crevice. Vesuvan squinted his eyes, Seeker of the sun or not, his head was pounding. He spied the leavings of the night before, three empty bottles, his armor on the floor. He looked to the other half of the bed, empty, but her scent remained, the sweet little Hyur serving wench, Sylvia, Serena, Sarah…Something with an S. Didn't matter, he had paid her, and she had delivered. The wine and her soft flesh had eased his sour mood, and softened the blow of his new orders. Only now, in the glaring light of a new day, his orders remained, he was a few hundred Gil shorter than before, and all he had to show for it was a hangover.
He groaned loudly and stretched his sore muscles. He splashed cool water onto his face, tracing the scar over his left eye, the way the skin there was raised, faded but always present. A tangled mess of dark blue and white fell into his eyes, the little minx had unbound his hair, he must have been drunker then he thought to have allowed that. He turned and let himself fall forward, pumping his arms in a quick succession of push-ups to get his blood moving, to get the sweat that still stank of wine to leave his body.
The man who left his room wore an almost ever present scowl, his heavy armor and a great axe on his back marked him as a warrior. He held his helmet under one arm, despite his rank of Storm Lieutenant, Vesuvan Nijian was not well known among his cohorts, having been an operative in deep cover for the past six months, infiltrating the Garleans. He received the salutes due his rank as he walked past the other Maelstrom soldiers, still his ears twitched. People always underestimated Miqo'te hearing, and he invariably caught words meant to be whispered, words he wasn't meant to hear. He wasn't trusted; spies rarely were, even when they returned home.
Shiloh stared at the Admiral. She had joined the Maelstrom thanks to her words, something in the stately Roegadyn had inspired her. She had finally found the courage to leave Gridania, after everything that had happened, becoming a Scion, fighting alongside Thancred, defeating Ifirit, she had proven herself more than capable. She had felt that perhaps the Maelstrom, with their pirate heritage had the most to offer her. Of the three grand Companies, they would treat her as an ordinary soldier, not as a great mystery, not as something special to be handled with care. A pit was forming in her stomach, the ink was barely dry on the parchment she had signed, the words of allegiance still fresh in her mouth.
"Escort? Admiral, I don't understand?" Shiloh asked.
"The admiral's words were plain enough. You're new to military service, so this transgression can be forgiven, but as a rule, do not question the orders of your superiors." A low voice rumbled behind her.
"Lieutenant, perfect timing." Admiral Merlwyb, tilted her head in welcome to the stranger standing at the door. "This is the Scion I was telling you about yesterday, and our newest recruit."
Shiloh turned towards the man she was being introduced to, her bright pink eyes defiant, chin jutting out, she stood as tall as her small frame would allow to face the person who had reprimanded her. He was armored with a great axe Shiloh could scarce wonder could be lifted, let alone be carried around on his back. His expression was blank, stoic, cold, his ice blue eyes sending shivers through her. She averted her eyes, only to look back, there was something familiar about him, she tilted her head, a memory refusing to surface.
"Shiloh, this is Second Storm Lieutenant Vesuvan Nijian, he will be accompanying you in your assignments for both the Maelstrom and the Scions. We have good reason to believe the Garleans have planted spies within the Grand companies, and that they are targeting you. The lieutenant is something of a Garlean expert, and I trust him implicitly with this task."
Shiloh nodded, she was a fool to think she would go unnoticed, that she would be able to slink into anonymity. She was hoping the over eager recruiters, and Minfillia had simply been exaggerating.
"Vesuvan, it seems we'll be spending some time together." She extended a hand and forced a smile.
"Private, you will address me as Lieutenant Nijian, and salute before speaking." He turned on his heels and walked out the door, leaving her standing in the room, hand extended.
"yes, sir." She whispered miserably, she had made a terrible mistake.
She looked back at the Admiral, who only gave her a small smile and a wink. She inhaled, and straightened her spine. Second Storm Lieutenant Vesuvan Nijian wasn't about to break her.
Floating Gyshal greens, Yda had described them perfectly, Little Solace glowed even in broad daylight, she closed her eyes and inhaled the wet scent of the place, fresh rain on newly blossomed flowers, Shiloh wished she could bottle the air, and wear it as a perfume. There were concerns regarding the Sylphs and the resurrection of Ramuh, that being said, the Sylph tribe was for the most part peaceful, and it was a diplomatic mission. The problem was that the Sylph elder was missing, and diplomacy had halted. Two weeks, earning the trust of the diminutive beast tribe to discover that the elder had been taken, and was most likely being held in the ancient prison known as the Thousand Maws of Toto Rak.
"Dancing one and Grumpy one will bring the elder back?" Noraxia asked in her flitting voice.
Shiloh bit her tongue, but she couldn't suppress the smile. Behind her, leaning on a tree she could feel Vesuvan's scowl. She assured the Sylph that they would. She took a deep breath and put on an indifferent and blank expression, before turning to her most reluctant companion.
"Dancing one, try to make Grumpy one smile, just as you made us smile." Noraxia called after her.
"Would that I could, dear friend." She mumbled under her breath.
She waved to a bickering Yda and Papalymo, and nodded to Vesuvan who pushed off the tree he was leaning on with a booted foot. They walked in uncomfortable silence, it had been this way since leaving Limsa Lominsa, curt orders, single word answers, if he answered at all, and silences that tore through the landscape. Shiloh could recognize his heavy footsteps with her eyes closed, she had grown accustomed to falling asleep to the scraping of whet stone on blade. Yet since arriving in Gridania, there was even more of a cloud that hung over him, as if the Shroud itself had offended him. His long ears twitched, incessantly, his tail was in constant motion, and the ice in his eyes felt like daggers.
"The entrance to the Thousand Maws is a day's ride away." She looked up at the sky, it was already noon, they would need to make camp before they reached their destination.
Hex, Vesuvan's Chocobo, called out to her, waking Dexter, her own mount. She patted Hex on the beak before climbing onto Dexter's back. Hex was the only creature Shiloh had ever seen Vesuvan show affection or kindness to. Hex greeted her master with a happy 'Kweh, Vesuvan answered her call with a gentle scratch under her chin, and ruffled the feathers on her neck. It was their wordless greeting to each other.
"Let's go." He touched his heels to the birds' side.
"Yes sir." Shiloh inhaled the sweet scent of the place one more time, and urged Dexter forward.
The chocobo's trotted into the Brambles. They had grown even wilder in the past five years, the elements grown restless, the animals more dangerous. Once, when she was little more than a child, she had almost been felled by a wild boar in this very place, if not for the well timed rescue of a young lancer. Vesuvan halted their advance, and dismounted, preferring to guide their mounts through the tall thorns on foot, rather than risk injuring them.
"Get behind me." Vesuvan ordered.
Shiloh's eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, she knew there was something familiar about her sour Lieutenant. He was the very same young lancer who had rescued her six years past. Dexter nudged her, and whistled, trying to urge his strange mistress to move forward.
"Private Mitka!" Vesuvan growled out to her.
"It was you, I had forgotten, you saved me from that boar, you were a lancer, even then you were angry…always so angry." She blinked up, putting a hand to her temple. Those ice blue eyes narrowed at her.
"This is hardly the time to reminisce." Vesuvan stepped forward; "Private, get it together."
"You didn't keep your promise." She mumbled, the Echo was on her, voices, and sounds of another place and time flooded her senses and she was no longer in the Brambles.
Vesuvan couldn't get to her before she collapsed to the ground. He knew she was having a vision, Minifillia had pulled him aside before they left for the Shroud, told him what to expect, what an episode looked like. Her eyes were darting in all direction under her closed lids, her breathing was irregular, her ears moving in the direction of sounds he could not hear, the tips of her fingers and the end of her tail twitched. Vesuvan steepled his fingers in front of his face, pressing the tips to his forehead. He exhaled before picking up the prone mage, cradling her in his arms.
"I had good reason to not keep that promise, you petulant girl." He mumbled annoyed.
He looked around, he knew the Shroud as well as his own hands, he had grown up here as well, had trained as a lancer, before…before everything changed. He whistled to Hex, and Dexter followed closely, quirking his head at his fallen mistress. It wasn't far, the Sanctum of the Twelve, and it would be a safe place for her to rest while in her current state. Her head lolled and fell against his chest plate with a soft thud.
"I guess some things don't change, you're still an annoying pain in the ass, Shiloh Mitka." He made his way through the brush towards the place she had been so desperate to reach all those years ago.
He kept a close eye on his charge, they were his orders after all. She and this echo were instrumental in defeating the Primals, the three Grand Companies all agreed she was an important war asset. He reached the calm waters that surrounded the Sanctum, he was greeted by an elderly Elezen, who gave him the use of one of the alcoves. He laid her down on one of the stone benches, and waited.
Blink.
She watched her fourteen year old self, and a young Vesuvan, he delivered her safely to her home.
"Hey, Vesuvan, thank you." She said through veiled lids.
"You're an annoying pain in the ass, Shiloh." He looked down on her, and smiled when she gave him an indignant scowl. He put a hand on her blue and pink head and ruffled her hair. "You're welcome."
Blink
The lancers guild, grim faces, Vesuvan, confused.
"Something happened, Ves, you need to come now, there isn't much time."
"What's going on?" Fear in his voice.
"It's about your father…and your brother."
Fear in his face
Blink
"He's a survivor, of your father and brothers company. He will succumb to his wounds before the night is out; he wished only to speak with you, Vesuvan."
"I don't understand, they left this morning, what do you mean survivor?" Fear gave way to panic.
She watched his young face distort momentarily before he summoned the strength to calm himself. Vesuvan entered the infirmary room, an Elezen, pale and near death was in the bed.
"Coren, what happened?" Vesuvan's voice was shaking, despite his greatest effort.
"Sit down Ves, I'm not rightly sure myself. All I know is what I saw, and what I heard." Coren gave the Miqo'te a sad look.
"We were ambushed, the Garleans were expecting us. They took us by the flanks and from behind, and then the formation broke apart, soldiers dying everywhere. I saw." He paused, pained by both memory and wound.
"I saw your brother, I saw Voja, spear your father through the chest. He fought beside the Garleans, not against them. They thought I was dead, they weren't entirely wrong, but I listened, boy, your brother, he betrayed us, he's with them. I go to rejoin the crystal, but you, you can make this right. Vengeance Vesuvan, don't let us die in vain. Promise me, your father, promise..." Coren was gripping Vesuvan's arm, his nails digging into flesh, he had hung onto what remained of his life to deliver this message.
"I promise, Coren. I'll find him, I'll make it right." His voice was quiet, his face pale. He made an oath he wasn't sure he could fulfill. "By the Twelve Coren, and the Crystal, I'll make Voja answer for his crime."
He waited gripping Coren's hand. He watched his father's oldest friend pass to the other side.
Blink.
A room destroyed, furniture broken, glass shattered, sitting in the middle of the storm, in anguish, was Vesuvan, shoulders shaking, face gripped in his hands.
"What did you do Voja?"
Blink.
She took a deep gasp of air, as if she could finally breath after being submerged in water just beyond the capacity of her lungs. The scraping of whetstone on metal stopped. She brought a hand to her face before opening her eyes, they were damp, and she hurriedly wiped away the tears that streaked her face before facing the man who had been the subject of her vision. She sat up slowly, she felt his eyes on her, analyzing. She hugged herself, and took stock of her surroundings, she stood up and stretched, her knees were weak, but she forced herself to walk.
She couldn't bring herself to look at Vesuvan, more than anything she felt like an intruder, that she had seen something not meant for her. She leaned against a stone pillar and looked at the giant round fresco of the Twelve, all the symbols aligned with their respective seasons. The Echo was never readily clear, she saw things that could not be explained until later. She ran her fingers through her hair, gripping it by the roots and pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes.
"That bad?" Vesuvan's low voice broke the silence.
"Something like that." She replied, with a lowered gaze that refused to meet his ice.
"Here, eat." He handed her a bowl of stew, a film had formed on the top and it was tepid at best.
She accepted the bowl, confused.
"The Sanctum keeper brought some over while you were still down." Vesuvan explained.
She made a small and silent oh with her lips. She took a step towards the bench so she could sit and tripped on an upturned stone. Vesuvan stepped in grabbing the hand holding the stew and pulled it away, it sloshed over both their fingers, an arm went around her waist holding her up until she found her footing again.
"Easy, private." Vesuvan said gruffly, guiding her back to the bench before releasing her, and returning what remained of her stew. "Are you always this clumsy after having a vision?" He handed her a small wooden spoon.
"Thanks" She mumbled.
She had a spoonful, it would have been an excellent meal had it been hot. Even so, her stomach churned with both hunger and anxiety, she took another bite, and heard Vesuvan exhale, or sigh and go back to his axe. In another instant the long scrap of stone on blade resumed. Shiloh chanced a look at him, his ever present scowl seemed deeper than before, she could see his jaw clenching and unclenching under his cheeks. Her eyes went to his hands, free of their usual armored gloves, the steel of his axe glinted in the late afternoon light casting a long shadow. The axe was double edged, a powerful but dangerous weapon to wield. She watched it happen, one second his hand was gripping the whet stone, gliding across the blade, the next, she saw the stone fall from his grip, and liquid crimson bloom from his hand. His loud cursing broke her from her trance.
"Who's clumsy?" She hurried over to his side to take a closer look at the wound.
"It's nothing" He growled out, applying pressure to where he had cut himself.
"That's a lot of blood for nothing. Let me see." She reached and grabbed his wrist, pulling the bloodied hand towards her.
"Back off, Private, I told you it's nothing." He raised his voice, yanking at his hand.
Shiloh pulled back harder, and slapped her own hand over the cut, making sure the contact stung. Vesuvan cursed again, turning the icy blue daggers that dwelt in his eyes on her. She met his gaze with a stubborn glare, and her own curled lip. She called on the elements to fill her with the power she needed to heal the cut on his hand.
"My name is Shiloh." She dug her nails into his wrist that was holding him in place. The Aether began to move within her and a pale green glow enveloped her hand, stitching ligaments and muscle back together.
"What?" he growled to her, annoyed.
"My name. Shi-Loh. It's not hard, use it." She pressed her hand onto the wound, it earned her a sharp intake of breath, flared nostrils and two flattened ears on the top of his head, his deep blue and black tail was a blur, whipping furiously.
She chanced looking down at the hand, the skin was still split, but she was confident she got to it before there could be any permanent nerve damage.
"It's fine now, back off, Private Mitka." He hissed at her.
"It's not fine, you're not fine, I'm a White Mage, this is what I do, so let me bloody fix you, and my name is Shiloh, you stupid, stubborn man." Her pink eyes flashed, neither Miqo'te was backing down, however.
"It's just a damn cut! Do you want to know how many times I've been cut? Too many to count, it's a hazard with working with a blade, I won't repeat myself again. Stand Down!" He grasped the wrist of the hand she was using to heal.
"The Echo gave me a vision about you." She nearly yelled in his face.
They stood half kneeling and sitting glaring at each other, the remaining sliced skin stitched itself up, and Shiloh released him, returning to the other side of the alcove almost shaking in anger and frustration.
"Me? Why? Why would you have a vision of me?" His voice had lost some of its bite, but it was weary, and guarded.
"I have no idea, I don't get to pick and choose the visions I get, but they always mean something, they're always important, you're important, I don't know how or why yet…but you are." She paced washing her bloodied hand with a damp cloth. "So if I see you spurting blood everywhere, I'm going to heal you, get used to the idea, and for the love of the Crystal, call me by my name."
"What exactly did you see?" He was looking down at his healed hand, rubbing the thin scar with his thumb.
"I saw the night you learned of your brother's betrayal." Her voice had suddenly lost its harshness, her face creased at the memory of what she had seen. There had been tears in her eyes, she had cried for him, the strength of his emotions in that profoundly private moment had been overwhelming, but pity was hardly something she would offer a man like Vesuvan Nijian. Not because he didn't deserve it, but because she knew he would not accept it.
"I see." He nodded slowly, flexing his hand. "What happens next?"
"We carry on, the reason will reveal itself in time, it always does." She looked up at the sky, clouds were hastening the night, there was a heavy damp scent in the air, it was going to rain. "We should hurry if we want to reach Quarrymill before the rain."
"Yeah." He pulled his gloves on, strapped the axe to his back and untied Hex. "Let's go Priva…Shiloh."