Fire and Ice
Timing: somewhere in that vague period after "Before the Dawn" and ARR ends but before access to Ishgard and Heavensward starts. (something, something time bubble)
Tataru Taru struggled to wrap the furs on the bed around herself more in an effort to ward off the cold. The beds here at Camp Dragonhead had never been built with anyone but Elezen, or distantly and grudgingly Hyur, in mind. A dozen tricks Ul'dah furniture makers used to let the same bedframe be comfortable for massive Roegadyn or compact Lallafels had never been seen as needed in Ishgard.
Even Lord Haurchefant's generosity could not make appear what the closed-off nation simply did not have in terms of furniture. Tataru felt like a fuzzy tick on an ice goobbue's back, and tried not to think of the sagebrush of home, or even her comfortable chair at the lost Rising Stones. A particularly loud howl of the wind had woken her up, and experience had her expecting it'd take an hour or more to fall asleep.
It'd been a week of howling wind and snow. The cold had remained constant throughout, another side-effect of the great Calamity five years ago, but from chatting with the workers at Camp Dragonhead, the winters had always been this bad here.
There'd been one Twelve-blessed day of sharp alpine sunshine since she'd arrived. Lady Yugiri had spirited her from Thanalan at her own insistence after their desperate escape from a surprise attack at the Limsan markets. She knew she had to offer whatever little help she could to the survivors of the Scions' betrayal at the palace in Ul'dah.
And when the survivors had arrived, there'd been all of two, and some of the Scions' newest members at that. Tataru wiggled around, dragging the furs around with her to peer at her companions' beds. Alphinaud Leveilleur was asleep, apparently without issue – but he was Elezen. Tataru couldn't even begrudge him the extra comfort. The first two nights after they arrived, he'd woken several times in the night, shouting.
What nightmares the young prodigy still suffered, he bore them now without a trace on his face, at least when asleep. He still was barely eating, listless and shifting then sudden burst of energy. He'd go from slumped to writing a dozen letters while dictating a dozen more to her at the same time. Then he'd slump back down and toss the letters slowly, one-by-one, into the fire, while the other Scions and Haurchefant looked on helplessly.
That made Tataru think finally to check on the other escapee –the Warrior of Light had a remarkable talent to fade beneath notice when not center-stage. Shifting down the mattress quietly to peer past Alphinaud, she could see a pile of furs on the next bed.
No surprise, the Warrior of Light as an adventurer would be used to falling asleep quickly wherever she laid her bedroll. In fact, Tataru had to assume even her stamina had been strained. She'd been helping do everything from chop firewood to killing monsters near the camp all day.
Tataru could assume, but the young Lallafell's instincts were better than she gave herself credit for and she peered closely – the furs were completely inert, with no sign of the movement of breathing. Frowning, though with teeth chattering a little, Tataru reached out of her knot of blankets for her hat
Camp Dragonhead was quiet on dark stormy nights, everyone but the watch safely inside. Even dragons weren't likely to be about in such weather unless they wished to be dashed into a mountainside.
The aetheryte at the center of camp chimed slightly, with the slight delay before the pop of outrushing air as someone teleported from elsewhere. The sound was mostly covered up, but the poor sentry on duty, partly out in the wind, rounded to see who had arrived, relaxing at the face under the hood. The figure gave a nod in greeting, as the sentry saluted.
She was, after all, not only one of Lord Haurchefrant's special guests, but had kindly delivered mail for him to his cousin at Whitebrim. But even the Warrior of Light wanted to get out of this cold and ducked down the stairs without conversation. With practiced tread she stepped across the unswept snows of the dim lit plaza like it was a well-paved road, reaching the door to the intercessory in moments.
There she hesitated briefly – there was light flickering at a time where the fire should be well-banked coals. But it would be the unlikely band of Syndicate assassins who managed to track them here, reached the fort in the middle of this nightmare of a gale, avoided every sentry while finding the exact right door, and then stopped to build up the fire to warm themselves. Still, she pushed open the door slowly, letting most of it cover her as she checked the room, though she didn't bother drawing her stave.
The fire was indeed up, and the only one in the room was Tataru, tending a small pot on the rebuilt fire. The Warrior of Light, relaxed, a little, and quickly shut the door, giving the flames a chance to fight back against the cold. Tiriana pulled back the hood, shaking free braids around her horns, and brushed snow off the dark scaled plates on her face.
"What was it?" Tataru asked as she poured hot spiced milk into two glasses.
The Xaela hesitated a moment before answering and taking a glass, "Ifrit," she said simply, as the glass was moving to her mouth. The Warrior of Light wasted no movement.
Tataru still stared, but Tiriana still simply drank.
"Why?" Tataru finally said, not standing the silence any longer. Since Tiriana's rise to glory and fame, it had become a common legend that the Warrior of Light must answer any request for aid. Tonight continued to build the legend.
"Linkshell from Pipin, to a mercenary he knew operated in this camp," Tiriana relented, "I knew the mercenary from a pest control job I'd done in Ul'dah for the Flames, and Pipin has those records. Nothing direct to the Scions." Her Eorzean was strangely accented, similar to the Doman refugees but far stronger than Yugiri's. Despite that Tataru understood it perfectly as always.
"I didn't think you risked us, why did you risk you, Tiriana?" Tataru insisted, standing on her chair, arms folded.
Tiriana stared back blankly for a minute, then slowly sat down.
"You are serious," she said flatly as a statement, meeting the lalafell's reflective eyes, "Tataru – what do you think I *did* for the Scions?"
"You *do* for the Scions," Tataru corrected, and Tiriana nodded, abashed. "I know you are the Scions' best fighter," Tataru protested hotly, "but…"
"Tataru, risking my life is my business," Tiriana said, gripping the table but trying to keep the voice gentle, "I wish the adventurer life was just 'go where the wild rose blooms', but there's a lot of bloodshed, not always against beasts either. The Scions *recruited* me because of a fight. It's almost always about fighting, especially against Ascians. But regardless of how the Adventurer Guild dresses it up, you fight or be ready to fight a lot as a sellsword." Tiriana stopped, breathing heavily, then added a minute later, "Or deliver something."
It was possibly the longest single string of words Tataru had ever heard Tiriana put together in the moons since the future Warrior of Light had walked into the Waking Sands for the first time.
"You have to breathe a little," Tataru tried again, "Please. I know how important what you do is but even Hydaelyn's Chosen can-"
Tiriana's lips moved, and Tataru stopped, and looked. The Warrior of Light looked away, awkward. Tataru sighed, whatever was going on wasn't just going to do it with a friendly chat.
"What?" Tataru demanded, and hopped onto the table to keep the Au Ra's gaze, pacing back and forth to keep it met.
"The Blessing is sealed. Midgardsomr, with the Dragonsong rising, somehow," Tiriana admitted,
"The Mothercrystal spoke to Minifilia before… Minifila sent me away, but I've not heard her in moons, before or after the Keeper."
Tataru stopped pacing, and nearly sat into a pot of butter left on the table in shock.
"Only the Antecedent knew," the Warrior corrected herself, "knows, and now you," Tiriana continued, letting out a deep breath and leaning forward to put her face in her hands.
Tataru found her voice faster than she thought, "I think you took client confidentiality too far this time Tiriana."
Tiriana looked up at her in surprise, and Tataru continued, mind catching up, "You're the Warrior of Light long before you got named by the Alliance, and the Scions didn't recruit you because of the Blessing. You're not some coat that has a tear in it to be thrown away or some chipped mug. You're not some replaceable adventurer either."
"The Scions have worked with a fair number of adventurers, some with the Echo. Alphinaud when he recovers-" Tiriana suggested
Tataru wasn't letting her off the hook, "All the work you've done for the smallfolk isn't because of the Blessing, or even rescuing me and the others! Remember that? All of Revenant's Toll stood away from the Castrum, but you and Cid and Alphinaud kept at it and made the impossible look easy!" She shuddered, a little. The Empire had been focused on Minfilia and the Echo but Tataru's time in there had not been pleasant, and it took effort not to think of it. She addmited, "I've never been so scared."
Tataru sighed and continue, "And I'm sorry Alphinaud and I need you again, or I know you'd be tearing Ul'dah apart piece by piece to find our friends. I wish I could wave a handkerchief and tell you to return to the Waking Sands when we're done" It felt good to admit it all finally. If she wasn't so weak and helpless, would the young genius and legend have had to flee over the border?
Tiriana looked at Tataru, gauging, and chuckled, briefly.
"What?"
Tiriana explained, "You sounded like Minfilia – and I realized, you *are* the Scions' senior member. You were both with the Path?" Her face was relaxed, and she leaned back. Whatever shadow there was in abeyance at the moment, and her eyes glinted more than even the reflective glow of Au Ra's liminal rings explained.
Tataru stopped, calculating, and… well, given the casualties at Cartenau and the Circle joining up afterward, and with Minfilia unavailable… huh.
Tataru stood back up, "Well, then – you're right. As leader of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, I order you to *talk* to me more. We can figure out ways to help deal with the primals and the Crystal Braves together – and when Alphinaud is feeling better he will too. Now let me pour you some more to drink."
Tiriana nodded.
Tataru hopped off the table, and commented, "Actually I knew you were quiet but didn't realize how much you listen – like a Sponge of Light. We really should talk more – you're so quiet."
Tiriana waved awkwardly at her throat, "I learned Eorzean from traders – and when I reached Limsa, it was all 'ye' and 'yar' and I thought I had been taught wrong and needed to learn again."
"I can understand you perfectly well," Tataru said, checking the stove's fire.
"But you can tell the accent – it's the Echo and it doesn't help you sound like a proper Eorzean," Tiriana said ruefully, "Meeting Yugiri and she'd had some of the same problems with the tongue was reassuring but... I've always been quiet."
Tataru glanced but apparently that was as much of her history she was getting at the moment.
"Well I think your voice is lovely," Tataru said, "And you really can always talk to me. A load's lightened with two, right?" Tataru carried the refills back and clambered on the seat to present it to the Warrior of Light.
"Thank you," Tiriana said, with a wave of the hand that took in more than just the kitchen. Tataru nodded, understanding.
"Thank *you* for Ifrit and everything else – with all the good you do probably no one except the Mothercrystal can know it all, just… don't run yourself into the ground when you don't have to," Tataru said gently, "I promise, I'll find everything I can do to help, so don't hesitate to ask. We will bring the dawn back to Eorzea."
"We will," the Warrior of Light responded tersely, but more confidently, as the two sat sipping in companionable silence. Outside was still dark and fierce, but the sun would still rise.
Main inspiration was noting there was clearly a bit of offscreen camaraderie – Tataru's more comfortable directly talking to the WoL as a compatriot in HW compared to before the short timeskip for the end of the Seventh Astral MSQ.