Written for FFxivWrite2022 – Day 3 – Prompt: Temper
Anger was a curious thing reflected Emet-Selch. Ever present in creatures of all manner and size but manifested differently through them all. Anger could be the great motivator to stand tall or the object of one's ruin when it clouded judgement. It could sharpen a blade or dull a mind in equal measure. Yes, anger was a constant that could be relied upon.
As he wandered the First, Emet-Selch observed unseen from the shadows. The creatures of this shard were broken, pathetic things. Left sundered and backed into the corners of the light polluted world. Anger was a constant amongst them as well, anger at their fate, at the finality of it all. Many chose to pretend, living in their opulent towers looking down ignorant of the suffering being inflicted. Creatures not worth his time. Many chose to give in and accept the world for what it was, giving no resistance and letting the wave of sin wash over them. Creatures that deserved no aid.
But there were those, the few that burnt with anger at it all. They chose to take a stand, to fight to the last breath against their fate. Creatures that almost won his pity, if only for the reminder of the past. But at the end of it all, they were nothing more than fragmented remnants of what once was. Pieces that would be whole once again.
'But… they are at least worth observation.' Maybe understanding them further would help with reuniting him with his lost brethren. At the very least it was a good distraction from… 'soft lilac hair, a warm laugh peppered with good-natured snipes'. He closed his eyes. Yes, those which had taken the name Scions and stood in her name. They would give ample opportunity.
First was the one known as Thancred. Anger manifested to him as a storm. Fiercely independent and the first one to arrive, he took to the isolation well. He moved with a purpose, establishing relationships, and taking to his weapon with gusto.
His initial arrival showed no anger, simply an acceptance of the situation. The storm of anger came when he learned of the girl kept in the gaols of Eulmore. All the intelligence and strategy Emet had come to expect from him was gone. What was left was a storm of steel and aether, that tore through Eulmore. The barest levels of stealth and subtlety were swept away in the rains of fury, striking Sin Eater and man alike.
Anger, Emet reflected, was not a good thing on the creature's visage. He became clumsy and prone to mistake. The fate of the girl may have fuelled him, but it left him open and vulnerable.
'Were we so different, Hermes' anger, however muted, when he spoke of the creations of Elpis was similar.'
Next were the mages, the miqo'te woman Y'shtola and the elezen Urianger. Both demonstrated contrasting forms of anger.
Urianger was calculated and logical, a smouldering flame. He took to the fae lands of Il Mheg well, taking in any and all sources of information with a fury to his actions. Long hours were spent holed up in the rudimentary shack he had constructed, poring over the texts he collected and drawing charts and diagrams. Whilst he may not have made it obvious, he moved with an anger that Emet-Selch, to his shock, understood. Anger at the lack of understanding, anger at that most invisible of foes, ignorance that belied the progress shown. Sections were found, analysed and thrown away as he missed the context he so desperately needed.
'A scholar faced with the vexing situation of being unable to complete their study. A frustration common in Amaurot'
Y'shtola in contrast presented a cold rage, like ice freezing on the skin. He first saw it shortly after her summoning. She turned on the Exarch with that frozen glare and it was a wonder the man didn't shatter to pieces then and there. After which she set out for the Rak'tika Greatwood.
She met the Worshippers of the Night there, the Night's Blessed and integrated within them, rising to prominence. She was well loved between them, each of them striving in their own way to impress her. It was sickening the way they clung to her every word.
Emet saw the frost twice more. Once when she and Urianger exchanged whispered words, murmurings on secrecy and honesty. Murmurings that swiftly grew sharper and pointed till both were practically at their necks, anger leaking like blood from the wounds their words cut. She left with that frozen rage cracking a path behind her, whilst Urianger stood, a small bastion against the ice.
The latest time he saw that frost was the when the Sin Eaters came to the Greatwood. The forest burned as trees, hundreds of years old, fell unceremoniously kicking up great swells of dust.
'What a waste' he thought to himself.
The woman directed those of the Night's Blessed to safety, her anger present as a frozen mask, quenching flames and calming those who walked with her. Urianger was present and, for once, not the subject of the flakes of ice. Instead, he gave his own smouldering flames, melting Sin Eater form to liquid that froze, feeding the Black Mages fury. It was then that her anger came forth, the frozen mask cracking and releasing a blizzard that struck down Sin Eater after Sin Eater.
'A measured response twisted with emotion. Those that stood against the Final Days were much the same. What else could we be when faced with our own twisted creations'
After the ice and fire of the two mages, came the younger members. The boy Alphinaud arrived in a tangle of limbs and spoken worry. He was quick to trust however, taking in the Exarch honeyed words with the desperation of a drowning man. This naiveite faded quickly though as more of the world was revealed. Emet could see the stillness of the boy's face as he took in the ever-present light. After which he left for the city of the blind and the ambitious, Eulmore.
A boy such as him should not have thrived in the conditions, downtrodden creatures, and hopeless atmosphere. Beasts that were willing to maim and hurt for the slightest advantage, all to reach the golden city. But it was in that pit of vipers that Emet saw the boy's anger.
Fittingly, Alphinaud possessed a righteous anger. One that rose up in defence of the defenceless, as a voice to the voiceless. It shone as a warming light that uplifted those it aided and scorched those it targeted. However, it was a rare thing, unlike the previous Scions who seemed to have an undercurrent of rage through them, who better accepted the hopelessness of the situation and had resolved to do their best. Alphinaud's anger came in response to injustice. The boy truly believed that he could make everything better, that some order could be brought to the shattered lives of the creatures who lived there.
'He's a fool for believing in people's good nature. A fool that will get into trouble one day.' Emet-Selch's mind whirred, 'But he's not all that different in nature to…, both made a habit of forcing themselves where they thought injustice was.' Emet let his thoughts wander to happier days, visions of affectionate amethyst eyes following him.
Shortly following the first twin was the other, Alisaie. She arrived with regret on her lips and an outstretched hand. He became acquainted with her anger quickly as the girl turned a furious tirade on the Exarch. The man himself seemed overwhelmed, attempting to placate the girl as she ranted and raved about the Exarch's lineage and what precisely she would like to do with her weapon. Emet chuckled to himself.
'What a difference. Where one is measured the other is impulsive.'
The girl acquired new vestments and gear quickly and immediately set out for Amh Araeng. Similar to Thancred she moved with a purpose that concealed an anxiety plain to see. The girl's anger was like the tide, ebbing and flowing to her own whims. She seemed to possess no control over her own emotions, using both wrath and sorrow in equal measure to fight and hunt Sin Eaters. Wrath over their actions towards the populace and sorrow at those they had lost as well as her own private sorrow. Emet found himself capable of pity for her, one that seemed so frustrated at their own private sorrow. To his horror he found that he could relate an infinitesimally small amount.
Pushing past these thoughts, Emet observed her, curious how one with such a short leash on her emotions would fare in this Shard. Only to find that the lack of control suited her perfectly. She cast spells with potency only granted when powered by ferocity, she healed with the ability of one who had lost those before. The warring emotions balanced themselves leaving her able to face anything that came her way.
The last to arrive was the crowning piece, the one he had been waiting for. The Warrior of Light arrived more complete than the others had. Their aether was whole and strong, and their body was a corporeal vessel rather than one born of magic and aether.
They arrived with trust and mistrust in equal measure. Mistrust towards the Exarch's actions and trust that he would not hurt them. After learning the nature of the world, they had resolved themselves with the attitude only one known as a 'hero' would have to fix it themselves. Collecting their allies from Amh Araeng and Kholusia, the cut down all manner of Sin Eater and enemy which faced them.
During this time, Emet kept a close eye on them, looking for any sign of the anger they were sure they possessed. Curiously, it was like there was an absence of any. They smiled and joked, laughed and shared in sorrow with the twins. But they never showed any sign of anger, instead fighting with a level of detachment.
Anger was a tool like any other, Emet reflected. How was it that this Warrior, who had faced the false deities of the Source, had no anger to speak of? How was it that they weren't constantly at rage for the struggles they put themselves through?
Emet got his answer sooner than expected. The Sin Eater attack on Holminster Switch came quickly, the Lightwarden itself making an appearance. The Warrior, the twins and the Exarch took to the battlefield. It was there the Warrior's anger began to show and Emet understood, why this person, who had duelled Gods and Monsters, showed no sign of anger. They were being merciful.
The Warrior of Light swept through the Switch like a farmer cut grain. Where they had combatted Sin Eaters before, they tore them apart now. The great sword they wielded, a hulking steel slab, shattered bodies and tore the pale flesh of the Eaters apart. Dark energy split the ground and darkened the very atmosphere. Eventually they stood against the Lightwarden, it was the closest fight they'd had in the whole battle. Every attack was delivered back, and it was with a fury that he hadn't seen.
Eventually the Lightwarden fell, and darkness was restored to the land. Emet however, was unconcerned with that, instead his mind was focused on one thing alone. Through the entirety of the battle the Warrior had wore a look of silent fury on their face. He finally understood the type of anger the Warrior possessed. It was like a chained beast, ever present but held and suppressed out of fear of what they could do. When it was released, it appeared as a darkness, burning through the light covered land and destroying anything that would oppose it.
It was familiar in way that hurt, so familiar that it made tears prick at his eyes. The Shepard to the Stars had possessed a similar anger. Anger that summoned itself to destroy anything that might hurt those they cared about. The only problem was that they cared for the whole world. As such that anger had to be kept, reserved only for those moments it could be allowed to run free in defence of those important to it.
'They're so much like you, my friend. Refusal to stand aside and a stubbornness in the face of impossible odds,' Emet-Selch found himself wistful for days of old, a common problem in these times, but never as strong as it had been now.
'Harden your heart, these creatures are simply twisted reflection of those that matter. Anything similar is nothing but coincidence born of lost souls,'
Anger was indeed a curious thing, Emet-Selch concluded. For all his observations had brought him to the same questions.
'What is my anger and are they so different?'