The Cause of the Scourge Part 1

The pub in the city of light was always the last place that went dark, and it's activity lasted well into the wee hours of the morning.

Aranea rolled over on the bed, cursing the genius who thought it would be a good idea to place her quarters directly about the bar. A sea of voices bubbled up through the crack in the floorboards.

Her eyes snapped open in the dim light.

A knock rapped at the door. She sighed, and debated whether or not she could get away with pretending not to hear.

The visitor knocked again.

Aranea swung her legs over the side of the bed, sliding them directly into the boots she had stationed there.

"Hold on." She called, hastily fumbling in the dim light for some for of cover.

She'd pulled most of her clothing off with her armor after returning from the last hunt, leaving herself only in a thin camisole and leggings. She found a long black cardigan she somehow acquired during her stay in the hospital and pulled it on, careful enough to wrap it over her chest.

If she'd learned anything about being a soldier it was that as much as men enjoyed sexuality, they also liked to pick their female leaders apart for showing any hint of it, regardless of it being unintentional.

She pulled open the door, one arm over her chest.

"Aranea."

Her eyes narrowed. She'd been seeing way too much of the King's advisor lately- he mysteriously showed up during her last hunt-

"Is this a good time?"

"What can I say, Ignis." Aranea stood to the side, motioning for him to enter, "Timing is your thing lately, isn't it."

"You're speaking of my interference with your hunt the other day."

"Yesterday."

"Yesterday. That's right." The man shuffled uncomfortably as she closed the door behind him. He pushed his glasses up the frame of his nose.

Aranea motioned for him to sit. The room didn't allow for much furniture, so their options were limited. The double bed was pushed to the boarded up window, with a sofa at it's foot and a dusty older armoire across from them. Ignis chose the sofa, leaning down to a knapsack that he laid at his feet and pulled a brown leather bag out from inside of it.

"I wanted to show you why I interrupted your hunt of the mutant Ceourls."

Aranea wasn't sure if he was trying to be condescending, or perhaps if she was feeling too touchy from her lack of sleep as of late.

"They were responsible for some of the deaths of our best hunters. One of them is currently well healed by now and back on the loose thanks to you."

"No doubt it is."

Aranea sat beside him, arms wrapped tightly around herself with her cardigan in tow.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"I came to show you. You hurried off before I could explain."

Aranea opened her mouth for a short retort but her mouth stayed agape as he pulled the contents from the brown leather bag out, revealing several glass vials of a black substance. It looked to be nothing more than tar shavings or small insects even, but the room appeared consideration dimmer when he revealed them to her. Goosebumps crept up her arms and shoulders.

"What that fuck is that." She gasped, grabbing a vial as it was offered to her.

"If Dr. Yeagre is correct, then it is colony of the microorganism responsible for the Starscourge."

Aranea turned the vial over in her hands slowly, lettings the specks of black settle from one end of the tube to the other.

"She calls it Plasmodium malariae. She suspects it's a parasite of sorts capable of infecting both humans and animals. Several other remaining biologists have backed her up."

"I gotta admit," Aranea passed the tube back to him. "Looking at that is a hell of a lot creepier than any daemon I've ever seen."

"Do you recognize it?"

Aranea shrugged. "From Nifilheim you mean? No, I may've fought a lot of their battles but I stayed the fuck away from the laboratories. I knew they were experimenting with daemons. I assumed they were... breeding them rather than toying with parasites, if that's all that is."

"I see." Ignis adjusted his glasses again and carefully assembled the vials back into the leather bag.

"That doesn't justify you ending my hunt." Aranea spoke sharply. He couldn't have expected to wander to her room without her holding him accountable. "I wasn't that far in your way."

"You were interfering with Dr. Yeagre's samples. We've had the most success collecting them just outside of tombs."

"Interfering? Was I?" Aranea's eyes narrowed at him. "Or were you worried about me?"

Ignis looked at her incredulously. At last, the master analyst was out of words for the moment.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Cut the bullshit, Ignis. Am I to believe you were so worried that my feelings were hurt after the hunt that you came here to talk to me privately about it? I know you've been keeping tabs on me since my... injury."

Ignis' brow furrowed. "You were awfully noncompliant as a patient. I doubt you're healing properly."

"I'm fine."

They fell silent, both looking at the floor for a moment.

Ignis shook his head, exasperated at her defiance. He buckled up the bag and leaned to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I can only see how exhausted you are," He said softly, green eyes looking into hers boldly. "Perhaps you should get more rest. And you should try a couple hunts with myself, or someone else if you'd prefer. No one can go at it alone every day. You've got quite a few glaives and hunters that would gladly fight at your side."

Aranea sat still, letting him rise and carrying his bag off with his. He opened the door and let himself out.

Aranea leaned back against the sofa, arms relaxing and allowing her cardigan to open. She knew she was hardheaded, but she wasn't dumb. Ignis was offering her information as a means of demonstrating faith in her.

'I don't need them at my side.'

The Ceourl was stationary in the grass, battered by the blows of her lance and by the effects of the scourge. Aranea stalked it slowly from behind, her legs burning from the vast recruitment of muscles and fatigue. She just dealt a fatal blow to it's mate and it wasn't going to go down without a fair share of fury.

The beast spun around and lunged at her before she could move, pinning her to the ground, teeth laughing for her jugular.

A wall of fire appeared causing the beast to cry out in pain and retreat into the foliage, leaving her to grunt at her fresh wounds and fumble for an elixir.

Then she saw the bespecled man cross the field toward her, amidst her stupor and adrenaline.

There wasn't much communication between them, but she knew he wasn't there to interfere. She held a grudge against him anyway. If it weren't for him she wouldn't have blacked out from the burns. The Ceourl wouldn't have escaped.

The sky was fully dark when she trudged across the city to the room in the hotel where she knew he always stayed, sometimes with one of his close friends in tow.

She knocked on his door.

He answered.

He was alone.

It didn't make much sense, and even in her most creative moments she couldn't think up an excuse to bother him so late.

She was alone, but in that moment she didn't want to be anymore. She hoped he would understand.

"Aranea?" He questioned, greeting her as properly as he could given the circumstances. His breath smelled of liquor, and his collared shirt was wrinkled.

She leaned into him, gripping his collar tightly and pulling him to her.

It was an awkward moment before he obliged, pulling her inside and closing the door behind them.