Momentarily left alone in the big room with two rows of simple beds – if not counting the unconscious… Surr? Zara? – when the Lalafellin woman left in hurry, G'raha stood by the bed on which he delicately placed the Warrior. He wasn't sure what to do with his hands once they were free, or what to do in general, for that matter!
Should he… leave? Go back to the camp? He could hardly imagine that the Scions would be glad if he… hang around. At the same time, the thought of leaving her felt… uncomfortable. Almost as much as putting her down on the bed did…
He flinched when she shifted on the bed suddenly, turned toward him, and uttered a quiet, delicate moan. The sound sent a near-violent shudder down his spine and he swallowed thickly, feeling a furious blush spill across his face. Oh, gods… The mark on his shoulder throbbed painfully, and suddenly it was sooo hard to breathe… His hand moved against his will and his fingertips brushed against her cheek – that smudge from before still there – then he blinked when she shifted again, moving closer to the edge of the bed – closer to him?
The door of the room slammed open and he almost jumped, swiftly pulling his hand back – feeling guilt squeeze his chest painfully. A woman walked in – a Seeker of the Sun with short white hair and greenish eyes – with the Lalafellin following behind her rapidly.
"What is the meaning of this?" the woman, Seeker, neared the bed quickly with a deep frown on her face. "Who are you?" she asked, looking at him while bracing her hands on her hips.
G'raha took a deep breath, instinctively backing away a step from the bed, then staring above her head he repeated what he already told the Lalafellin – about what happened, and what he thought… afflicted the Warrior. He kept the part about his… their mark out – he still had no idea what to make of it… And if she was really possessed by some sort of a voidsent? Twelve preserve…
"So… she's either raving mad or possessed?" the woman stated bluntly, leaning over the bed and placing her hand over the Warrior's forehead. "Never heard of a voidsent possessing a living person, though… But if you were really in the void… It's not like we know much of traversing it…" he murmured, then sighed and straightened. "Anyway… thank you for bringing her, sir…?"
"G'raha Tia," he supplied nervously, with a slight, polite bow. "I was… I am a historian and I volunteered to oversee the expedition on behest of Students of Baldesion."
"…Students?" she hummed, looking him over curiously. "You maybe know my friend, then…? Krile Meyer Baldesion, a granddaughter of…"
"Of Gulaf Baldesion," he smiled slightly. "And I do, yes. I consider her a dear friend, miss…?"
"Y'shtola Rhul," she said, then cleared her throat slightly and slight amusement flashed in her eyes. "Though, I should have guessed your affiliation to the Students… considering your tattoo," she looked meaningfully at his shoulder… and he tried not to flinch. When he had it made – he never thought he was going to actually meet any of the Scions… Now, to have his admiration for them so plainly displayed… was embarrassing. He coughed lightly – knowing he colored visibly – then crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, looking back at the Warrior again.
"Is she going to be… okay?" he swallowed thickly, then looked at the other Seeker again. "Is there some way… to fix it?"
Y'shtola frowned, then looked at the sleeping woman again, then grimaced slightly.
"Physically, I can't see anything wrong with her," she admitted – and not that he expected anything else, as the healer at the camp said pretty much the same after she first collapsed. "When she wakes… and still insists she's someone else… Well, I think it might be safer to bind her, Tataru," she sighed, turning toward the Lalafellin. "Just in case, at least…
G'raha flinched, dropping his arms to his sides and looking between them with a scowl.
"Is that really… necessary?" he hesitated, looking down at the girl again. "She didn't seem… dangerous – to others or herself. If anything… she seemed scared. I can hardly imagine how much worse she would feel to wake up being bound…"
"It's just a precaution," Y'shtola assured, then looked at him meaningfully. "Now, again… I thank you for bringing her back, G'raha, but…"
He didn't want to leave, he thought unable to tear his gaze away from the Warrior. His hands tightened into fists as the need to touch her again grew nearly unbearable. But he had no right to stay, either… Unless… He swallowed thickly, looking at Y'shtola again. She's a Seeker, too… And Lalafellin, Tataru, scrambled out of the room – maybe looking for the rope or something…
"When she changed…" he started slowly, then took a deep, steadying breath. "We spent weeks together… during the expedition, but only today…" he dropped his gaze, at the same time lifting his hand and with heart in his throat he pulled back the collar of his vest. "This… appeared…"
He heard her loud intake of air, then she exhaled slowly and when he dared another look, her face was white as a sheet.
"I see…" she said, her voice unreadable. Then suddenly she chuckled – and if it sounded a bit hysterical… "Well… at least others will stop calling her soulless."
"Huh?" he frowned, letting his hand drop to his side again.
"Nevermind," she sighed, then rubbed her eyes tiredly. "It's been a long day… for all of us, I guess. Let's secure her… and then I'll ask Tataru to prepare a room for you – temporarily, at least… Until we can figure out what's wrong with Surr… Don't worry, we have plenty of those and I'll explain this to Minfilia, our leader," she added, probably noticing his terrified expression.
"I'm… I'm fine here," he said quietly, dropping his gaze again and stepping from one foot to the other. What she was offering… was way more than he could expect, and yet the thought of leaving her to wake up… bound and helpless?
Y'shtola was silent for a long, long moment, then sighed with resignation, and when he looked up, her face was unreadable.
"You know… If she's truly possessed by… something from the void – we will have to find a way… to get rid of it," she said slowly. "Surr… she's greatly needed, all over Eorzea. There's none other that can face Primals' threat… So even if you're somehow matched to… whatever took hold of her – again, if that's the case…"
"…I know," he whispered and felt his ears fall against his head miserably. And wouldn't that be just… his luck?
"As long as this is clear… you can grab a chair from the main area if you really wish to stay here," she said softly, almost with… sympathy. "I'll ask Tataru to prepare a room, regardless… Just in case."
"Th-thank you," he stammered, then headed toward the door.
Even if he couldn't have or keep her – he could at least stay with her as long as it was possible.
"My bad luck… will never end, will it?" Zara murmured, dropping to her knees and hanging her head low.
"Your decision, mortal?" a slightly hissing voice snapped, and she tightened her jaw, peering up through her long, black fringe at an obviously annoyed cat with golden fur and fiery, flaming eyes.
At first, she was almost deliriously happy to 'wake up' back in her human body. Then she realized she didn't wake up at all – since her surrounding was a perfect recreation of Omphalos she recognized from the game – only the horizon around it was the swirling, white mist. Soon as well she was met with her avatar's body – Surr – sitting cross-legged by one of the pillars, with the said cat in her lap. Her avatar didn't speak, didn't move – but her purple, vertically slit eyes tracked her movements and her face was an emotionless mask.
But then, if what that cat said was true… that wasn't so surprising. Because according to the goddess in the shape of a cat, that's what 'Surr' was. Living, breathing husk – a body born without a soul – and as a result of that, completely unable to feel anything.
"I can't," she whispered through her too-tight throat. "Her life fucking sucks!"
"Like yours was any better," the cat snapped, and its long, flame-tipped tail whipped impatiently.
"At least I wasn't stuck in a fucking loop!" she snarked – at this point not caring that she was probably insulting the goddess – because, yeah, this was her life now… "I could choose!"
The golden cat's – Azeyma's – fur bristled and the flames at the tips of her tail and ears flared higher, as she was obviously losing her temper… but when she spoke next, her hissing voice was cut like an ice.
"And a great many things did you achieve with that… free will of yours. So great, in fact, nobody was there to find and nourish your 'human' body before it… expired," the goddess moved, settling down across Surr's lap. "If you refuse to merge… that's it, mortal. Off you go to the aetherial sea with your 'free will' intact. And this… body will go on as it was – soulless and incapable of emotions. Up until the end of this loop, when she fails again, you'll be reborn complete, memory wiped, and start over yet again. So one way or another – I'll get what I require."
Zara hung her head again, seething and working her jaw furiously. Yet again… her luck seriously sucked. More than should be ever possible! It wasn't enough that her 'human' life was fucked up. No… She had to end up snatched by a fucking gods and put up to this impossible choice! Really die or 're-merge' with the body that according to the goddess was supposed to be hers in the first place. Free will or fate… And she always fucking hated the idea of fate!
But she really didn't want to die… Die, be reborn as Surr and start this fucking 'loop' over. And over, and over, and over…
That's why she always hated the stories that included time travel, she thought now with a grimace. Fucking time paradox! Touch one thing wrong – and everything goes to hell like a fucking dominos'. And according to Azeyma, that's what her 'original' incarnation did – original Surr, the Warrior of Light, couldn't fucking leave the past the hell alone… No, she had to fuck with it and ended up affecting the time continuum. Because of her trampling attempt in Elpis to save their true 'original' incarnation, the Azem, she ended up provoking Venat and Azeyma to go trample in the aetherial sea and fuck with her soul – which somehow sent it scampering over to Earth.
Then to 'save' the timeline she was supposed to be born in… they locked it into a fucking loop. Her body was born – soulless – and once facing the trial of Hydealyn it would fail – incapable as it was of emotions. And it would start over – while Azeyma searched for her lost soul.
Her whole life was a fucking joke. And even in death others couldn't leave her the fuck alone! All she ever wanted was to be able to decide for herself – be it good or bad – but have a goddamn choice, for fuck's sake!
She never could. The choices of others always trampled her own. Her mother's choice to never get her postpartum depression treated after having her was the first. Her father's choice to commit suicide when she was five started the domino effect which fucked up everything in her life down the road. Her step-father's decision to rape her older sister and then off himself when faced with the consequences was the next. That it triggered her mother's depression into full-blown schizophrenia – another block falls. Her family's choice to leave her in charge of three growing daughters (two of them traumatized as fuck) – high as a kite on meds for the rest of her life – bam, another domino's down!
When she finally legally could, she left the house and never looked back. So sick of others pilling up their bullshit on top of her own trauma – she swore no one will decide for her ever again. She could fuck up her own life – she did – but at least it was her goddamn choice!
She couldn't finish any good school – between the lack of money in her situation and trying to lessen the influence of her mother on her eight years younger sister – it was just not possible. Not to mention they lived in a small town where everyone knew them and their story – and in the shitty school, she went to, she was constantly bullied. She had no friends – who would want to hang out with a screw-up from a fucked up family who had a tad 'bigger' issues than which boy to date or what is the latest in fashion? And in the end, she couldn't get much better than shitty, menial jobs that paid just enough to rent a small apartment and survive.
That's what was her motto it seemed – surviving. Not by choice – but because she didn't believe she deserved any better.
She buried her trauma and loneliness in books, movies, and games – escaping from her own shitty life into the fantastical worlds where real love and friendships happened. She would catch any work she could to pay her bills and in the scarce free time she got, she would either read or play – and not be 'unlucky, screwed-up Zara' for just a moment.
Then, four years back she stumbled upon Final Fantasy XIV… and fell completely, utterly in love with it. The story, the characters… it all resonated with her… soul – if one believed in such – in a way nothing else ever did.
Now… she knew why.
In the game, she was 'Surr' – strong, brave, and fierce Warrior of Light – who could save others. She wasn't the weak, helpless 'Zara' who could do nothing but bang against the locked door and listen to her sister's screams. She wasn't the screw-up who – despite her best efforts – could only watch their mother turn her little sister into a selfish, helpless brat - unwilling to do anything better with her life than to let herself be spoiled rotten – ending up in a sick, parasite-like relationship. In the game, she had friends who wouldn't stab her in the back… and oh, boy, but she was shipping her WoL with G'raha Tia something fierce.
Abandoned by literally everyone as she felt during her childhood – because she was the quiet one, the calm one, who according to her mom's words didn't need the attention as much as her sisters did – G'raha and his background resonated with her heart like nothing and no one else ever did. No matter which iteration of him – ARR's, Exarch's, or Scion's – his obvious need to be noticed and wanted… had her heart ache. His dedication to the WoL and his selflessness – to the point of being ready to die for them – made him feel… safe. He would never betray his hero, right?
She had a few boyfriends over the years after leaving her family's house – but it never worked out. She had just too many issues – she knew that – and not many guys were ready to put up with that. She was too insecure – too possessive, too. After her childhood – though she figured it was hardly an excuse – when no one would pay any attention to her – once given, she wanted it all. She needed to be needed, seen, and wanted. Her latest ex, Matt, cited being tired of that as an excuse to cheat on her – because he was too much of an asshole to simply break up, no… better get the girl she thought her friend – as so very few she managed to get over the years – into her bed.
Her perfect guy – G'raha – would never do shit like that. He was too honest, too selfless, too brave. In her head, he would love 'Surr' in the way she wanted to be loved. Utterly and completely – no holds barred. Surr, not Zara – because Zara didn't deserve to be loved like that. Surr was the hero – Zara was the failure, weak and helpless. Zara couldn't save anyone – especially not herself.
Not to mention how utterly cute and adorable he was. And she always had an insane weakness for cats. Cats were independent and were fine by themselves – like she wished to be when she was little. But when they needed it, they weren't scared to ask for affection – like she was.
She thought that was what led her to choose a Miqo'te for her avatar. Why she just never could change to another race – like so many of the other players did. She loved Surr – and for her, she was a character in her own right. She could adjust her hairstyles and outfits – but even thought of her being anything else than Seeker of the Sun Miqo'te felt wrong.
And now… the 'fate' decided to fuck with her yet again! That was the excuse her family would always use – that everything that happened to them was fucking fate. No, not a bunch of fucked up choices – that resulted in the fucked up results. It was easier to blame fate than own up to their mistakes. Easier to say 'shit happens' than 'I'm sorry we fucked you over.'
Not that it would change anything… but wouldn't fucking hurt to hear that for once!
She fucking hated fate!
Zara fell back to sit on her legs and regarded the sight in front of her numbly. That's it – she thought as she looked into the emotionless eyes of her avatar – that was the only choice she'd been given. Either be a slave to the 'fate' of her original incarnation's story or die and be it anyway. Chose free will now to become what they wanted anyway, eventually.
If she had a space of mind for that – she would be tempted to laugh at that – it was hardly a choice, was it? That Azeyma asked at all – was an empty gesture. Maybe to make herself feel better for her original screw-up – fucking with her soul in the first place – if gods were even capable of feeling guilty.
Her gaze dropped to the waiting golden-furred cat… and her eyes narrowed in speculation when a sudden thought struck her.
"Actually…" she drawled through her teeth, fisting her hands on top of her thighs. "…what are you getting out of all of that? Why agree to help Hydealyn in the first place? Why spend hundreds of years looking for my… soul? What did she promise you for all of that? It has to be something big to warrant such… effort, doesn't it?"
The flame-tipped tail flicked lazily as the flaming eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.
"That is of no consequence to you, mortal," the goddess's hissing voice snapped in a haughty tone – and Zara almost grinned, feeling like she struck gold. "I tire of this charade… make your choice or I'll make it for you."
"I think, you can't," she sing-a-songed with an open, taunting smirk. "I think if you could… we would never have this conversation in the first place. Why waste time even asking? I bet if you could, you would force-merge me with my so-called body and call it a day, wouldn't you, Azeyma? If someone is playing games here… that's definitely not me. So indulge me, my goddess, what are you getting out of all of that? What did Hydealyn promise you?"
The flaming eyes narrowed into slits as her blazes flared for a moment – then something like almost a smirk bloomed on her feline muzzle.
"Maybe I'm starting to see why everyone's so obsessed with you, mortal," she drawled, jumping off the avatar's lap to sit in front of her on her hunches. "If nothing else, at least you have guts. Very well, I'll indulge you… but then you must make your choice – time to do so is running out," she raised her triangular head and a picture appeared above her – almost right in front of Zara's face. It was a red-rimmed circle filled with tiny letters forming a tightening toward inside spiral. Zara narrowed her eyes at the image, trying to decipher the writing, but if it formed words as she suspected – it wasn't in any language she could understand. And she supposedly had Echo… which allowed her to communicate with people of Eitherys so far. "Once upon a time, the people of your race – you now call Miqo'te," the goddess intoned as if telling a fairy tale. "Out of their own free will, you so champion, chose to worship me and my sister, Memphina. To show my… appreciation, I chose to gift those who picked me, the ability to find a perfect fitting partner for mating and breeding – so their tribes can grow strong and prosper."
"You're shitting me," Zara gawked at the goddess with open-mouthed astonishment. "Mating marks? Seriously? But it's such a fucking… cliché."
Azeyma narrowed her eyes at her, and Zara instantly snapped her mouth close, clearing her throat.
"What I didn't consider at the time," the goddess continued, looking up at the picture over her head. "Was the fact that once upon a time – before the world of Eitherys was broken apart by Hydealyn's strike – some of the original souls were paired into a true eternal bond. In each and every life they were reborn after the Sundering, they would always find each other – for better or worse. Soulmates, your people came to call it," another almost-smirk flashed on the feline muzzle toward her. "I believe it also wasn't a foreign concept on Earth?"
"Yeah, in a corny fanfiction," she murmured, rolling her eyes and folding her arms over her chest. "Where are you going with that?"
"Once I granted the marks," the goddess said, obviously pretending not to hear the snarky tone in Zara's voice. "They could not be removed. They were to be barely an indication – nothing more. They could chose to follow them or not – I did not care. Most would find more than one matching them partner – and if not frequently refreshed, the mark and the bond it created would disappear – giving both the way out, if they so chose. What I did not predict, was that in case of some the mark… mutated, to use the term you can understand," now she so obviously snarked… but Zara chose not to comment, now getting a 'funny' feeling about where this was going. "In case of those Bonded before the Sundering, specifically. The Spiral, they came to call it – regarding it as an… special gift, instead of a chain it truly is. The words the letters form," she made a spiraling gesture with her paw between them. "In the dead language that it is now, are the words each original incarnation spoke while tying their aether with another for all of eternity. Once completed, the bond it forms between two souls cannot be broken. By any means, be it even death – if one of the… pair would die, the other would follow. Marked those, the individual would also never get another match – and be able to only ever… procreate with their destined partner."
"I'm really… getting a bad feeling about where this is going," Zara whispered, shifting uncomfortably.
"For someone so adamant about her free will… I imagine," Azeyma narrowed her eyes at her, then the image above her melted away. "You know some of the stories of Allagan Empire, don't you, mortal?"
She nodded slowly, confused at the sudden change of topic.
"During the peak of their expansion, they enslaved the mortals who chose to worship me," the goddess stated, and her flame-tipped tail whipped with visible agitation. "As unwilling to interfere with morals' affairs as we chose to be, me and my brethren… I found it… insulting. Later on, when the rule of the Empire's most prized possession fell into the hands of the former slaves – I did appreciate the irony of that fact," her feline muzzle grew almost… bloodthirsty expression that sent a slight shiver down Zara's back. "But even protected as it was, over the ages the… last bloodline of Allagan royal descent weakened and watered down. Up to the point that currently there's only one representative of it left."
"G'raha," she whispered, suddenly feeling like her lips grew numb and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach grew almost unbearable.
"Yes, the last of Allagan royalty left alive," the goddess nodded it's triangular head slowly, narrowing her vertically slit, flaming eyes. "As the… 'fate' would have it, I guess, though his blood was augmented, refreshing the bloodline, imagine my… contentment to hear from Hydealyn… Venat, the story of Surr, the original Warrior of Light, mated to G'raha Tia, the last of the Allagan blood. Both a reincarnations of Azem and her husband – who were eternally bonded. When I agreed to help Hydealyn – I fully intended to lock you to form as she wanted but have that bond broken, without her realizing that. But when I attempted that… your soul slipped away. Stuck in the loop as we all became – of your soulless body's failure," she tossed a narrowed look toward her motionless avatar. "I understood my… mistake and saw the results. His soul – robbed as it was of it's match by her inability to feel anything… would wither and die – adding to her failure and restarting the loop. Without you – her soul – she's but a puppet that quickly learned to fake feelings… to appease those around her. Supported by Hydealyn's Blessing, she could go on, almost fooling all that she was full, complete person – but even then, he would have… none other. Over and over, and over and over again, he would fall helplessly in love with the Warrior – each loop ending in tragedy for both."
Zara felt her throat tighten painfully, and her eyes burn as despite her hatred for fate – and wasn't the concept of 'soulmates' epitome of it? – she couldn't help but feel… sympathy for her personal hero. And if she thought of the story she knew, story she played so many times… he deserved better.
More than anyone else in the world, really… G'raha Tia, with his gentle, selfless soul deserved to be loved. And to think him… stuck loving the person literally unable to return his feelings? It… hurt.
But to think… Azeyma meant her? Her… soul as his match? It was… mind-blowing! More than that, even! She loved him when she knew him only as a character in a game… obsessed over him, really, as embarrassing as it was to admit now.
But didn't he… deserve better than her failure of a soul for a match?
"I don't get it," she whispered, dropping her gaze to the ground between her and the golden cat, then cleared her throat awkwardly. "That's all… well and good, but still… I don't understand what were you to gain in the first place? What did Hydealyn promise you?"
"That's an easy one," the hissing voice now sounded almost… amused. "Locked as your souls are with each other, my part of the bargain was for Hydealyn to adjust her Blessing once she casted it on your… body. Once you're done with her task, break the loop and save Eitherys from Meteion's Song of Oblivion, you're both mine – or to put it the simple terms… Your Blessing, not only will shield your soul from corruption, but your blood as well, and it'll be passed down to the next generation. Blood of those born of you won't weaken, won't water down… Creating a new Allagan bloodline, immortal in a sense. Keeping that monstrosity of a Tower contained and still in the hands of my mortals."
"You're… shitting me," Zara gasped, falling back on her ass. "You want me to… breed with G'raha?!"
"Bonded as you are…?" the goddess almost smirked. "You simply won't be able to help yourself."
She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw started aching. So even in this… she wouldn't be given a choice? G'raha was a wonderful man – she knew that – but, still… She was to be some kind of a breeding mare for the goddess?!
Her hands rolled into fists involuntarily when her eyes started to burn. She was so sick of this bullshit! Her whole life other fucked around with her free will – taking her choices away.
"Your choice, mortal?" now the goddess's question sounded nothing if not… ironic.
"Will I remember t-this?" she cleared her throat when her voice wobbled, then stood up, towering over her avatar – who's dark eyes narrowed, but showed no emotion. She was almost jealous of that. No emotions meant no pain or fear – which she always felt too much of. "Or my life as Zara? If I chose to merge with her, I mean," she strived to keep her expression calm and steady.
"Do you want to remember that?" the goddess asked with something like… hesitation. "What I saw of your memories while pulling you over… wasn't much pleasant."
Understatement. But her pain and her trauma made her who she was – and as fucked up as it all was, she survived. She always survived – and no gods would rob her of that last shred of pride.
"That's my condition," she said slowly, looking the golden cat right into the flaming eyes and rising her chin stubbornly. "I'll merge with her – but I'm Zara, and I'll stay Zara… till the end."
"As you wish, mortal," Azeyma nodded her triangular head slowly, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You'll have access to her aether, memories and her skills, you're useless on Eitherys otherwise. You'll break the loop, face Meteion and sire the next generation of the Allag. Those are the terms – how you achieve that – I do not care. Fail, and you'll start over, without the memories of 'Zara'. Understood?"
She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, closing her eyes.
"Understood," she whispered, then opened her eyes and looked right into the emotionless eyes of her avatar. Her eyes, soon. Then, as the goddess's words truly sank in, she turned her gaze toward her, as a slow, sharp smirk bloomed on her lips. "You 'don't care how I'll achieve that'?"
"I do not," Azeyma confirmed, and her flame-tipped tail flicked behind her slowly. "I found and brought your soul back – fulfilling my end of the bargain. Actively wiping memories of your human life wasn't the part of it. Fail to stop the loop – you'll doom yourself to start over, as full 'Surr' this time. Succeed, I get what I was promised. So, however you choose to use your knowledge from Earth – matters to me not."
Now Zara fully grinned, as one of her favorite quotes from anything, really, ran through her head. Words of her favorite character from a tv series she loved before it went to shit at the end. Somehow, so fitting as an idea started to form in her head. She turned her gaze back to her avatar's eyes and saw them narrow at her again.
"'…on and on it spins, crushing those on the ground'," she whispered softly, almost seductively into the dark, starry eyes. The loop, not the wheel, but close enough. "'I'm not going to stop the wheel, I'm going to break the wheel.' What do you say, Surr…? Ready to invite some good, old chaos along for the ride?"
"Bring it on," her avatar smirked, utterly fearless and her voice completely emotionless.
He must have fallen asleep at some point, as exhaustion from such a long, long day finally set in. When something – or someone – delicately poked his shoulder a few times, G'raha almost growled, annoyed at that, when he was so warm and comfortable. His sensitive nose drowned in the sweet, citrus scent that seemed to fill his head an lungs in a way that had his blood shimmer with heat.
"…ha… aha….G'raha, wake up!" someone snapped impatiently, sounding quite… fed up, and instantly a weird, uncomfortable feeling had his heart stutter.
He shifted with a groan, raising his head and blinked blearily at the source of the voice… right into the dark, starry eyes of the Warrior of Light. He blinked again, his half-awake mind wondering numbly why they seemed to be so strangely close, those eyes. Then again… when they narrowed at him, even as a sparks of amusement filled their depths.
"Come one, sleepyhead," her dark eyebrows wiggled playfully, as a slow, mischievous smirk tilted her lips. "I need some help here, darling."
Gods, he thought she was beautiful before… But now…
He swallowed thickly when that shine in her eyes and the sight of that teasing smirk sent near-violent shudder down his spine and he was instantly, painfully aroused.
Then it registered in his sleep-clouded brain… why those eyes were so close... Last he remembered was sitting on the chair next to her bed, but it seemed that sometime during his nap, his arms found their way to wrap around her waist possessively and his head – before he lifted it – rested against her abdomen. He felt all the blood drain from his face instantly, then he almost violently jumped back, his back hitting against the backrest of the chair painfully… while she laughed merrily, and the sound… Oh, Twelve…
He could only gape at her, eyes and mouth open wide in shock. He never heard her laugh before… And gods, but like this… she simply took his breath away.
"God, your face…" she snickered, awkwardly sitting up on the mattress. Awkwardly, because her wrists and ankles were bound tightly with a thick rope. She narrowed her eyes at it, then smirked at him again and her eyebrows moved again, meaningfully this time. "Wow, G'raha, who would have thought you enjoy this sort of a foreplay…"
"I… I…" he stammered, jumping off the chair and backing away from the bed as a truly furious blush hit his face. He had no idea where to look or what to say – because his mind too easily slipped into that image, causing certain part of his anatomy to throb – and this time it wasn't the mark.
"I'm kidding, relax," she chuckled, but her dark eyes shone with… fondness, and his heart jumped in his throat. "Now… can you, please, untie me?" she reached out her bound hands toward him, fluttering her long, dark lashes with a slight pout on her plush lips… and gods, but he would have given her sun and moon if she so wished… Completely dazed, he moved before he had even time or space of mind to consider it, swiftly untying the rope around her wrists. Then he watched her in a numb, stupefied admiration while her pretty lips tilted in an absolutely mind-blowingly gorgeous grin. "Thank you, darling," she cooed, then set to untie the rope from around her ankles. Done, she dropped her legs over the edge of the bed and stretched, before jumping off and peering up at him through her lashes with another pretty pout. "You look a bit… flabbergasted, G'raha. What gives?"
"Who…" he hesitated, swallowing thickly when the mark on his shoulder throbbed, and his heart went absolutely insane. "Who are you? Surr… or Zara?"
A slow, teasing smirk bloomed on her lips when she lifted on her toes and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down as their breaths mixed and her scent filled his head until his mind drowned in it. His hands shakily lifted to rest around her hips and he wasn't even aware when a quiet, inviting purr rumbled involuntarily deep in his chest.
"Both," she smirked, and a fire of fierce determination flared in her dark, starry eyes, stealing his breath and reason. "And I'm yours…" she cooed, brushing her lips against his oh, so delicately. "…if you want me."
"Like nothing else…" he gasped, then before he knew what he was doing – so utterly lost in the heat of her eyes as each breath turned his blood to lava – his mouth fell on hers with a rumbling growl, swallowing her low, satisfied giggle.
She tasted like heaven never could, was only thing rolling through his head as his arms moved to wrap around her back, pulling her against him harder. He devoured her mouth desperately, shuddering and losing his mind when hers grew as aggressive, as hungry… Her hands fisted in his hair almost painfully, tilting his head for easier access while her tongue explored his mouth. Her loud, rumbling purr vibrated on his lips, mixing with his. His hands fell to her hips, pulling her tight against his aching erection, and he almost expired when she rubbed against him, freeing one hand from his hair to dig her nails harshly in his backside, chuckling breathlessly when he broke the kiss with a loud groan.
They panted against each other lips for a long moment, while he drowned in her dark, fiery gaze until she smirked and fell back to her heels – tearing a helpless whimper from his throat when she rubbed against his cock again while doing that.
"Where are we?" she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.
"R-Raising Stones," he stammered, licking his lips – and almost moaned at her lingering taste. Gods, he could so easily get addicted! "You said you wanted to come here…"
Her eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly when she looked around, then she sighed, leaning away from him and he reluctantly let go of her. Her ears twitched slightly and only then he realized he could hear muffled voices coming from the direction of the main area of the Scions' base. He had no idea how long he slept or what time of the day it was… but it sounded like quite many voices mixing together.
He blinked with surprise when she backed away from him a step, then in but a second class-shifted – a long, sheathed katana appeared hanging off the belt on her side. G'raha frowned at that – until then he ever only saw her use her Summoner class, though he heard she was skilled in more than one.
Before he could ask her about the meaning of this… she smiled at him reassuringly, though her eyes grew cold and calculating – sending a shiver down his spine – then turned around and headed toward the door leading to the main area, motioning for him to follow. He scowled, and his mind raced instantly, but followed, wondering… if untying her was a mistake?
Both, she said. What that was exactly supposed to mean?
When they exited the Scions' infirmary, opposite to how it looked at night when he arrived with his charge, the main room was quite busy. Many, many people milled about the tables, talking, laughing, drinking or eating. Many of them dressed in the distinctive, blue uniforms.
Unsure, he followed behind the silent Warrior, to who many of the present waved or welcomed her with smiles or nods – most with the obvious respect if not outright admiration – at what she either nodded or smiled, not uttering a word. Which seemed to not surprise anyone. He frowned when she stopped by one of the blue-clad men, a very tall Hyur with white hair with his back to them – so he obviously didn't notice her approach, busy talking with a much, much smaller Lalafel in similar outfit.
"Ilberd Feare," the Warrior cooed, and anyone nearby nearly jumped, looking toward her with wide-eyed astonishment. First time hearing her voice? Oh, gods… was it mistake?
The man turned around, looking down at her with obvious confusion.
"…Warrior?" he hummed, his eyebrows shooting near his hairline.
He didn't see her move – it was too fast – but suddenly the katana was unsheathed and swung faster than eye could follow – and the white-haired man's head fell off his shoulders. Dead silence fell about the whole area when his headless body thudded to the ground, while the Warrior in lightning fast move treated the same way the Lalafel, swiftly and mercilessly.
G'raha couldn't only gape – like everyone else in the room – while she calmly shook the blood off the blade, then sheathed it in a smooth, practiced move. Then she braced her hands on her hips and turned, looking around the present with a cold, sharp smirk.
"This is what is waiting for those who think to betray Alphinaud Levellieur and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn," she thundered in a clear, loud voice. Her cold gaze stopped for a moment on each blue-clad man and woman in the room, and some visibly wilted and dropped their gaze, swallowing visibly. "Ilberd and Yuyuhase thought to further their goals by selling me and my friends to Teledji Adeledji and his scheme against the sultana of Ul'dah. They thought wrong and paid for that with their heads. I know who supported them – and each of them can think this to be their last chance – there will be no mercy or second chances for the traitors."
And after that statement – under the mix of confused and terrified gazes of the present people – she turned toward him and smiled sweetly, and even the few drops of blood that splattered on her cheek didn't diminish the beauty of that smile or the way his heart stuttered helplessly.
"What is the meaning of this, Surr?" someone snapped, and his dazed eyes shot toward the voice. It was a distinctively familiar teenager – a white-haired Elzen in a dark-blue uniform, looking over the carnage with a terrified expression.
"Cleaning your mess, Alphy, you're welcome," she sing-a-songed playfully, and the teen's eyes widened impossibly as his jaw dropped, staring at her like of she suddenly grew a second head. "Now, if you excuse me… I have something I need to talk with him about," she grabbed G'raha's hand and pulled him toward one of the side doors. He let himself be dragged along – just too stunned by everything that happened and still wondering numbly if freeing her was a mistake – while she looked at him over her shoulder with a smirk and winked. "And you, darling, can call me 'Zara'," she whispered… and his heart stopped.
What, in the seven hells, did he unleash on Eorzea?!
Notes:
the quote Zara cites is ofc from Daenerys from Game of Thrones - my personal fav - before they royally fucked her over with the last season :/
I have to admit, I'm very pleased with this particular chapter ^_^ I hope you enjoyed it and see ya the next time!