Dante Tallius was a person of many complicated loyalties, plots, and numerous more intrigues. Yet, she found herself oft listed as a 'simple sort'. Although the facets of her duplicitous life were ever changing and constantly questioned, there was a certain clarity to it. There was a core to the myriad contradictory things at her heart. At the center of it all, Dante Tallius wanted recognition. It wasn't a simple sort of recognition, like the adoration of a cheering crowd, or the jeers of a hated foe. No, if that were true, she'd have the recognition she desired on a hot mid-afternoon in the beating heart of Ul'dah. Was it wise for someone like her to choose to make her presence so obvious in the sight of so many who were tasked in killing her kin? Probably not, but she knew she could get away with it.
See, the thing is, Dante Tallius was no ordinary sort. Her great height and flamboyant pink hair might've already given anyone that idea, but then there was the object of sheer hatred that rested comfortably in the middle of her forehead. Something that other exiles and defectors like her had deigned to cover with headbands, goggles, helms, and the likes- she didn't see the point to it. So as she towered over the occupants of the Quicksand, a smug grin skewed across her strong features, she knew they could all see it. Her third eye, the very defining feature of a 'Pureblooded' Garlean. The best most of the 'brave heroes of Eorzea' could do is glare at her as her long strides carried her easily through the room. Dante did not frequent this place, but the spectacle always warmed her heart. She'd once felt the weight of their glares, but now they were less than a gentle spring breeze.
Someone loudly sighed behind her, a certain someone she'd come all this way to speak with. Her handler in the Immortal Flames, Arvis Pyke. He was an older sort who'd seen much. Not as much as she had, perhaps, but he'd seen enough to know his place in the world. Arvis was not ambitious, or at least, he didn't try to be. This day proved to bring a different Arvis. The Highlander was garbed in more official attire, and his craggy features were cut into an intimidating furrow. The men of Ala Mhigo were renowned for their ability to scowl better than even the most seasoned brooding Dragoon, and Arvis was no different. A shame his ambition to intimidate Dante into behaving herself just left her doing her best to stifle her laughter.
"Fer a bleedin' triclops, you don't have the best senses to you, do ya?" A pair of brown and beady eyes narrowed at her. He waved for her to take a seat, as it looked that he'd gotten some of his subordinates to clear out a table before they got here. Arvis was being clever. That was unlike him. "The Flames might've looked a cut beyond yer origins, but that don't mean the fine folk of Ul'dah have."
The Garlean sat in a seat built for someone much smaller than she was, but she didn't let that make her seem uncomfortable. After all, she'd figured this was Pyke's angle. To unsettle her, to get her off-kilter, so that he could twist her arm just a bit. This became even more evident when he slid a leveplate across the table, alongside a penned note with word of what the leve was assigned for. Arvis grinned as she graciously accepted the plate, only to see that the leve was granted for a task in 'Vengeance against those Imperial bastards'. Tallius sat still a moment, contemplating this. A silence and stillness that Arvis appeared to assume was shock. "See what I mean? You waltzed into the heart of anti-Imperial activity, as an Imperial. You can't tell me that you thought that one through, can ya? This guildleve was assigned to one of the 'venturers that's part o' the Immortal Flames, a real busybody who likes to get a lay of the land before they head to work. A hunter of men and machines. Destroyer of warmachina, and bane to anything Garlean."
"She'd kill ya and bring back yer tags to prove it." The Flame Lieutenant guffawed. "AND NOBODY WOULD FAULT HER!"
He leered at her a moment, only to have his moment of triumph crushed by Dante almost falling out of her chair as she laughed in his face. Larger than life already, her bright and boisterous laugh drowned out the noise of the hustle and bustle of the Quicksand. Arvis growled. "The hell's so funny, Imperial dog?"
"This! You went really out of your way, Arvis! I'll give you extra points for the leveplate, it took some real thinking to prepare that!" Dante straightened up, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. It surprised her that she laughed that hard. "The people back at home never gave you savages enough credit. When push comes to shove, you can really think for yourselves… occasionally."
Arvis shook his head. "...Shoulda figured it wouldn't work. But I weren't lyin', Tallius. Would it at least behoove you to get somethin' to cover that eyesore?"
Dante wanted to laugh again, but she knew that Arvis wasn't trying to make a pun. Rather than ruffle the man's already jostled feathers, she wisely chose not to laugh in his face. "You do know that this eye is more than a signifier that I'm of the Empire, right? 'Twould be remarkably convenient if the eye only manifested as a signal for 'I'm the enemy of Eorzea, please pummel me and take my money', wouldn't it? Fortunately for me, it isn't! Unfortunately for you, you have to deal with it."
"I don't have to do anythin'. Considerin' your situation, I could just order you to cover it up." But Dante simply looked at him, and he stared back, the both of them full aware of the facts. Arvis may have held Dante's proverbial leash, but it was not a tight one, nor one that easily fit 'round her neck.
To look upon Dante quo Tallius was to look upon someone who was greater than the sum of her parts, though said parts were quite great to begin with. The woman outstripped most in height, standing just an ilm shorter than the thorn in the side of the entire world, a certain Zenos yae Galvus. Her great natural and unnatural strength threw her malms above the competition, but that missed the heart of the matter. Rather, the artificial heart. Just placed on the left side of her chest was a cross-slashed scar, a mark that this Pureblood had gone through augmentation.
The very core of her being was unnatural. It defied fate, just as she would. Her heart had long grown still, a heavy stone within her chest, that allowed her to stand against the tide. For if she was without a beating heart, she was fateless, for she was no longer living. Without destiny, she could chart her own course upon this star.
Something about the glares she felt changed, as she felt a heavy presence at the back of her head. Someone was boring a hole in the back of her head. Did Arvis seriously have her surrounded? A sharp bark of a laugh escaped her, as her face twisted into a devilishly smug grin. "Ah, Arvis. You could only try so hard. So, pray tell, what do you want?"
He gasped out a defeated sigh. "...Information, mostly."
"Information? What do you expect me to know? The things happening in Garlemald aren't exactly widespread knowledge among the rank-and-file, and 'lest you forget, I was among the highest ranking of the rank-and-file." She thumped a hand 'gainst her leather bound chest. "My rank was Centurio, certainly, but the only men who know truly what's happening are of the van or yae variety."
"It isn't the situation in Garlemald, luckily. It concerns Project Herakles." Arvis should've led with that. In a moment, the Garlean's confident facade shattered into pieces, as her grin fell from her face. The woman's pink lips pressed into a grim line, her taunting eyes now narrowed as her brow furrowed.
"So it's come to this." She let her words hang in the air, Arvis quickly growing pale. He didn't expect the sudden severity from his typically flippant comrade. "What troublesome things are demanded of me, now? Does this loyal bloodhound come to exact a toll from my fragmented memoirs, or does he smell the blood dripping from the hands of those who enacted this price upon me?"
"...Pray excuse me, but what?" Arvis' mouth hangs open, aghast.
"'Tis what Eorzea demands of such ill-begotten knowledge, Pyke. Your Grand Companies do not exact their tolls for knowledge's sake. Be it the Resonant or the Weapons. This knowledge should be forgotten. Tell your handlers to forget about Herakles." Dante leans back in her seat, a fresh frown grown upon her countenance. The glare she felt prior only seemed to intensify. Dante almost bristled at the intrusion, now.
"I just can't do that, y'know. The people up top need to know these things if we're to stand a fighting chance against Garlemald." The man leans in to pound a fist against the table.
"A chance you already have. Take it before you bloody your hands and deeds, painting your legacy crimson. There is nothing here that you need to know." With that, she folded her arms and looked away. She could hear Arvis sigh again, only to hear his gauntleted hand move. He didn't leave, but the glare at the back of her head certainly did.
And then a seat was pulled out, and a small yet equally intense presence was soon seated across Dante. Curious, she cracked open an eye, before being shocked for the second time this day. Vision adjusting to what she saw, there was a big black spot in the seat ahead of her. A spot that quickly was clearly a person that looked to be made of pitch, or at least her skin and scales were. Dante was no stranger to Au Ra, nor was she a stranger to Xaela, but Xaela were not commonplace outside of Othard. This person exuded intensity. Full used to the more meek Raen and typically more girlish women of the Au Ra species in general, this intruder carried themselves with a certain maturity and strength she was used to seeing in the Legatus of Garlemald, not within a girl. For that was what shocked her the most. If not for the clear muscle that bore the Au Ra's battlegear, if not for the patch that crossed half of the intruder's face, and if not for her presence… she would've appeared almost like an innocent young woman, carrying an untarnished youthful naivete.
A pair of mandible-esque horns flanked her face, sharply bordering an already worn yet youthful and soft face. Her features were decidedly pointed, like every piece of her form was ready to strike like a blade at any moment, and so too was her glare. An eye colored in the likeness of pure gold was wreathed in a glowing limbal ring, a ring that reminded Dante of the unforgiving Sun above Thanalan. Black lips curled into a slight frown, a frown so slight that Dante nearly missed it.
"You bring a girl to intimidate me, Pyke?" Dante was putting up a strong front. "She is half my size. You'd've done better to bring a mercenary or…"
The girl interrupted her. Her voice was smooth yet built of a low monotone, her accent easily placeable among the Steppefolk of the Far East. Despite the sheer size and clear forward strength Dante possessed, she was undaunted, and spoke with a clear confidence or disregard for appearances that Arvis did not possess. "Arvis spoke poorly."
"I did not!" The man protested.
"You did." She leveled him an even-keeled glance, before returning her attention to Dante. "'Tis not the knowledge of Herakles itself that Arvis has been sent to ask you for, instead it is whether or not you know of the remains of the project. Are you still in contact with the Head Researcher, or could you get into contact with him?"
Dante was unnerved by how chilly this person was. The glare she was giving her told Dante that this person hated everything about her, but her words were entirely empty of the flames of hatred. "If he still lives, then I might be able to. But why? What spurred this?"
"I am not privy to such things. If it should behoove you to learn, then you are more like to find your answers by asking my employer's commanding officers. He is not forthcoming with knowledge, for I doubt Flame Lieutenant Pyke is truthfully aware of the matter at hand." She lifts the levelplate allowance from the table. "Provide your assistance to this investigation."
It was not a request, which got Dante to shoot Pyke a curious look. For his part, he only shrugged. "Ah, this is the adventurer I tried to scare you about."
"This is your fabled Garlean Slayer?" Dante appears dumbfounded. "I suppose it'd explain the extreme resentment in her eye, but… Warmachina destroyer? Her? What does she… climb into it?"
"Well, if we're to continue to trust the word of several trustworthy eye-witnesses, she was able to sever a magitek scorpion from stem to stern." Arvis saw Dante's eyebrows raise. Somehow, this served to restore his fading confidence. "Our scaled companion here is a certain Sint Dagan, the Midnight Scaled Invader. Mum's the word on where she's from or why she's here, but she's been a great asset to the Immortal Flames. Our honored company's been assisting the Flames since near the close of the Dragonsong War. She's not failed us once, though she can be somewhat hard to reach."
Dante rubbed the side of her face. "I'm flattered you brought such prestigious people to intimidate me, Arvis. But-" Dante stood, and so too did Arvis and Sint both. "You need to tell me why you're after any of this."
Sint blinked once, then twice, before stepping back a few ilms. Something about that movement made Dante a slight bit nostalgic, but she couldn't fully recall why.
Dante quirked a hot pink brow. "What?"
"I couldn't see your face." The au ra clasps her hands behind her back.
"You are too blunt for your own good. Well, I like her already. Tell me, Arvis, is she going to come with me to find the good doctor?" Dante uncrosses her arms and cocks her head a little forward.
"Her and a few other adventurers, plus a detachment of the Immortal Flames. We'd provide more but… Y'know the state of things." He lifts a bound parcel of parchment. "If anyone asks for proof, here's your official recommendation for this job, as well as your official command."
"Wow. You knew I'd accept, huh?" She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head back to guffaw. "What a bunch of jokers! You put on such a big show, and all you needed was to tell me the facts straight."
"What can I say? I wanted to shoot my shot." With a heavy shrug, Arvis gave her a less than genuine smile.
"Seriously?" Sint and Dante said in unison.
He flushes red as he looks at Sint. "What! Listen. You don't tend to work with someone with such huge… er, personalities for too long until you start gettin' the hots for her! Don't act like you haven't been staring."
Dante shakes her head, her smug grin returning to her. "You're right that she's been staring, Pyke, but I don't think that's her fault. She is half my height."
Sint just closes her eye, offering no comment.
"Gross, anyways. It's been fun, Arvis. But I've got my work, you've got your's, and I'm itching to get to know my new pal." Sint's eye reopens, the hatred still present in her hostile glare. Dante matches the glare with her own disarming smile. "What d'ya say, savage? Have you the guts to face the enlightened science of my Empire?"
"This savage would appreciate your assistance in slaughtering the remnants of Project Herakles. If you still have any loyalty for your countrymen left, I would ask that you excise it posthaste. I would rather keep my guide alive." Sint walks past Dante, allowing Dante to see the weapon strapped to Sint's back. Above her swishing tail and where Dante assumed her hips flared rested a bright red and clearly custom Gunblade, emblazoned with what the Garlean assumed to be Sint's personal symbol. A dragon's skull skewered by a greatsword. The rest of Sint was covered in heavier armor, clinking mail and heavy metal plate impossible to miss. The crimson coloration to the padded cloth that rested betwixt the steel and mail made her a largely striking sight. Showing her back to Dante was not a sign of trust, no, it was a sign that Sint was certain that she was in no danger. This little au ra believed that she could kill Dante quo Tallius without a shadow of doubt.
"This'll be interesting." So said Dante quo Tallius, not quite sure why this felt so familiar.
"For your sake, I hope it isn't." So said Sint Dagan, the weight of the past denying her the awakening she sought.
'Twas the toll enacted by Time, the Price of Awakening.