Original Ao3 chapter summary:
Still a bit under the weather, but I felt good enough to write something smaller! Just a little farewell to our dancing friend. :(
This one's set just after chapter 12 of the main fic.
"If we're heading to Gridania anyway then I might need to take a short detour to the East Shroud."
They were gathered outside the Church doors, making preparations to depart. Though still dazed from the sudden major revelations that had fallen upon him all at once – and very much continuing to grapple with the gaps in his memories – Cid was evidently still endeavoring to be the respectful man 'Marques' of the Order of Nald'thal had been.
He looked up from the gear he was packing, eyeing Joker knowingly, "Is this… about the Sylph whose body was brought in with the others?"
"Yeah." Joker nodded, "I can teleport where I need to go. I won't be long."
Alphinaud looked like he wanted to protest, keenly aware of the time that would already be exhausted in searching for signs of the missing airship before even getting to confront a rampaging Primal. But Cid halted him, a hand on the boy's shoulder and a pointed look.
The young Elezen backed away from whatever he might've meant to say, nodding instead, "Yes, I… I suppose we can spare some time. Cid and I will make additional preparations for the journey in your absence. We must needs outfit ourselves for the cold if we are indeed traveling to Coerthas afterward."
Joker stood up, eager to get this done, "Great." He said, perhaps more dismissively than he had meant, "I'll meet you in Gridania. See you in a bit."
He tracked down Sister Eluned once more, who didn't seem surprised to see him. The older woman smiled at him gently when he asked for Noraxia's body.
"Yes, I thought you might. It is only proper that she be given into the care of her friends and family, so that they may mourn her in accordance with Sylphic traditions."
Saying this, she promptly retrieved a small form gathered up in a white shroud that had evidently been kept separate from the other bodies. She gently lowered the swaddled bundle into his arms, almost like one would receive a newborn infant.
Once again, Ren was struck by how little Noraxia weighed. How light she was in his hold, so slight and delicate. His fingers curled against the fabric tightly as he lowered his head.
"Thank you." He whispered, "I'll take her home now."
He was swift to make his exit, teleporting from Drybone's aetheryte. Approached the whimsical, festive lanterns that adorned the ivy-covered gate marking the entrance to the Sylph's makeshift home with a tightness in his chest as he pressed the bundled sheets against it.
Komuxio was the first to greet him, of course. The fluttering Sylph wandered as usual to the gate as Joker passed through, head tilted with open surprise and curiosity.
"This one is surprised to see walking one here again so soon. How can these ones assist walking one?"
And Ren didn't know what to say. He held out the figure wrapped in cloth, his throat tight.
"I…" He swallowed thickly, blinking, "There was… an assault on the Waking Sands. Imperials. I… I've come to bring N-Noraxia home."
And Komuxio merely stared with his black eyes, hovering on the spot, words not quite registering for a moment.
And then he gasped. Shuddered. Wrapped his tiny arms around his shaking torso as he sank slowly to the ground.
"Noraxia?!" Komuxio choked, "You mean Noraxia is… But… this one does not understand…!"
Then the Sylph threw his head back as he cried out, eyes squeezing shut as tears fell down his cheeks.
And Ren's hold on Noraxia's body tightened as he began to shake too, vision swimming. He closed his eyes, fighting back a hiccuping sob with clenched teeth.
"Komuxio, this one has heard much wailing! This one would know what has caused such distress."
The Elder had appeared, lowering himself to the ground beside his kin.
Komuxio could only shake his head as he continued to cry. Frixio rubbed at his back consolingly, eyes filled with confusion.
"Walking one has returned to Little Solace? But why? These ones have not requested further aid."
Ren's arms continued to shake as he knelt down to their level. He placed the wrapped body gently on the ground, head bowed.
"I'm sorry." He said, voice horse. He swallowed again past a thick lump threatening to close over his throat, "I'm so sorry."
Frixio's dark eyes widened as he put everything together.
"...Explain everything to this one, at once."
And Ren did his best to comply, omitting the grislier details as he shared the events of yesterday, voice sounding drained and hollow.
The simmering anger behind Frixio's expression faded instead to a deep, deep grief that settled heavily on the Elder's weathered face. The look of one who had said many goodbyes in their lifetime and was far too weary to face yet another.
He raised a twig-like hand to his pale face, reaching under his tiny spectacles to rub at his eyes.
"So… not only Noraxia, but many of walking one's friends were lost as well."
Beside him, Komuxio continued to sob, calling Noraxia's name softly.
Frixo sighed deeply, turning his head away, "Noraxia went to Thanalan at the behest of this one… To think such a thing would happen…" He mumbled quietly, voice pained, before again looking directly into Joker's eyes.
"Walking one was with Noraxia at the end, yes…? Tell this one that Noraxia was brave. Tell this one that Noraxia did not suffer."
And Ren could not stop the tears from falling this time, "She was brave." He choked, "She was so, so brave. She tried to save Minfilia. She told me where to go. She…" He took in a shaking breath, "She didn't suffer."
That last part was untrue. Joker had felt every moment of her quiet agony from the Echo. But Frixio deserved to hear those words.
The aging Sylph breathed in deeply, eyes closed, "This one is glad to hear walking one's words."
He opened them again, a hand on his chest as he stood up, rising into the air once more, "Thank you for bringing Noraxia home, walking one. These ones also wish to thank praying ones. Tell praying ones these ones will remember this kindness."
And Ren nodded.
Kumoxio had fallen silent. He rose abruptly to join the Elder, wings quivering.
"This one demands vengeance." He murmured darkly, small hands curling into fists at his sides, "Imperial ones must pay! Imperial ones must suffer!"
Frixio eyed the other Sylph with concern, but did nothing to halt his righteous rage as he continued, "When the time comes for walking ones to face imperial ones, do not forget these ones! These ones would not have Noraxia's death be for naught!"
Ren took in the raw anger emanating from Komuxio's shaking form, silent.
"Yes." He said, bangs falling across his eyes as he lowered his head, "When it comes to that, I'll make sure of it. They'll pay."
He didn't know what kind of expression he was making.
At Frixio's request, Joker took Noraxia's body beyond the bridge, into the depths of the forest. He was tempting fate, straying into the tempered Sylph's territory, but it had to be done. He followed the path of particular winding, gnarled trees that had been pointed out to him, Third Eye aiding him as he crept among their roots quietly.
And at last he came upon a clearing. Gentle sunlight filtered down from above, soft and warm, as it alighted on a field of small pink and white blooms.
Joker steadied himself as he stood in the clearing's center, the sun warming his chilled hands. Pulling back the shroud from Noraxia's tiny, limp form, he gently lowered her to the ground. He placed her body among the flowers, folding her tiny hands over her chest.
With her eyes closed and the bright petals brushing her cheek as they wobbled in the soft breeze, it could almost be mistaken for a scene of tranquility.
Joker stood, staring down uncertainly. He didn't know how the Sylphs prayed. Probably very differently to the Eorzeans, given their god was not at all part of the same pantheon.
Did he even have any right to this? Her death was his fault, after all. But Frixio had been insistent, and if anything he supposed that meant he owed it to her even more.
He'd never given a proper send-off to the other fallen Scions, either. His poor prior attempt at praying for their souls had ended unhelpfully in him cursing the very gods they worshiped. Not that he felt apologetic for that. But still, he should probably try to do better for this.
He looked to the glimpses of sky between the leaves as he thought of his murdered friends, brief though their time together was. He had no idea what their individual beliefs were, or who to contact about their bodies. He assumed Aulie was from Gridania, given some comments she'd made, but he had no further clues than that. And from what he'd cobbled together of Seeker of the Sun culture, A'aba's family would have been from the A tribe. But that didn't necessarily mean he was raised among them, or practiced their specific rituals. With any luck, the workers at the lichyard had found the appropriate next of kin concerned, at least.
With a sigh, Ren turned to his own cultural customs, as tenuous as his ties to them felt at the moment.
He'd just have to do what he could.
He clapped his hands together. Closed his eyes. Let his mind empty as he took in the smell of the woods, the sound of the trees rustled by a breeze in the canopy above.
And he silently directed his plea to whoever, whatever, may be out there, god or spirit or anything, that they — all of them— would know peace in whatever may come next.
Opening his eyes again, Ren took in a breath. Knelt down once more to brush a hand along Noraxia's pale cheek, tears stinging.
He didn't know what came afterwards, but he hoped she could dance with the stars now.
After his final farewell to a friendship cut so bitterly short, Joker had returned to the lichyard. Delivered news of Noraxia's final resting place and the Sylph's expression of gratitude, as requested.
Sister Eluned had placed a hand on his shoulder, "We thank you for your service to the church and to the Sylphs. You may be pleased to know that, in your absence, we interred the remaining Scions in the lichyard."
'Pleased' wasn't quite the word for it, but he thanked her all the same, nodding silently.
Eluned's grip tightened reassuringly, "Perhaps you still wish to do more for your friends. If so, I would remind you that you have already done so much on their behalf. Please, take a rest and set aside your burdens for now, Joker."
A nice thought, for certain, but he couldn't. He had to keep moving. There was still much and more to do. And he had told Alphinaud and Cid that he would join them right afterwards.
All the same, he couldn't help but stop at a peculiar sight when he strayed from the lichyard gates, taking the sloping path again down to Camp Drybone.
A robed acolyte of the Order was hunched by what, at first, seemed to be a very large, very mossy rock – but on closer inspection, Joker recognized it as a fallen Goobbue, like the kind he had encountered before in La Noscea. A long dead one, if its complete stillness and dulled eyes were any indication.
But most strikingly was the dazzling array of flowers growing all over the lumbering beast's grayed corpse, the sprouting green mosses dappled with a veritable rainbow of colors, each a different size and shape and texture.
Despite the urgency of Garuda's summoning, the weight of the journey ahead, Joker couldn't help but pause to stare.
The acolyte looked up at his approach, nodding a greeting as a look of recognition came to his eyes. Joker wondered if he was one of the men that had tended to him in his stupor just the night before. He had been far too out of it to possibly commit their faces to memory.
"Do you pray for Goobbues too?" Joker asked. He hadn't intended it to be a facetious question, rather genuine bewilderment. But he winced a little at how the words came out of his mouth. He felt as if his internal filter had taken something of a knock the past month or so.
Unoffended, the man gave him a slight wry grin as he gestured to the corpse.
"Not as such, no. I am here for something of a more… dubious task." The acolyte returned his gaze to the sight before them as he examined the overgrown wildflowers with a keen eye, "Mourners that come to our hallowed sanctuary are often taken with the idea of procuring flowers for the graves of their beloveds, and as we are in such arid lands the sprouted seeds of deceased Goobbues, fertilized by their flesh, often remain our best means for sourcing some of the more appealing blooms – as unappealing as the act of harvesting them may seem at a glance."
"Oh." Joker had seen a fair number of flowers resting upon the simple gravestones at the top of the hill, baking in the Thanalan sun. He hadn't stopped to consider where the grieving visitors acquired them.
The man shook his head with wonder.
"This Goobbue," He said, with a wave of his hand over the creature in question, "Was a child of Coerthas. The Calamity shattered its native mountains, and it fled before destruction as a caravan flies before a sandstorm. All these years, it must have wandered. We found it dying and received its memories."
At Joker's questioning look, the man gingerly plucked a soft purple bloom in upright clusters from the body. A kind of lavender, judging by the smell. He pressed it into Joker's hand, "It's very body is a tapestry of its travels, you see. It had gathered seeds from every land it passed through, and they flower upon its corpse, a living map of its loss and exile. North to south, mountains to the desert…"
And he watched as the acolyte began to point to specific flowering patches along the slumped beast's back, "Cloudberry and shooting stars, marybells and cliff roses, Althyk lavender from lower Thanalan, even roselles from Bloodshore."
And as Joker twirled the fragrant bloom between his fingers, he found himself wondering what kind of flowers had graced Noraxia's resting place. What flowers had had seen, shimmering with light, when had first awoken in Eorzea.
"Yes, to wander is both a dream and a nightmare." The man sighed deeply, eyes drifting to the distance, "Adventurers such as yourself must know it better than I, but I imagine there are days when the flame of adventure gutters, and you feel yourself to be bereft of hope… and upon us, no flowers grow."
He fell silent. And Joker joined him in quiet contemplation, his own sigh at his lips.
As the two took in the silence, he turned his face to the bright blue Thanalan sky. The day was starting to get on and the heat of the desert was mounting again, but he still seemed to feel cold. Shivered slightly against the breeze lightly on his cheek.
He clutched at his coat as his heart swelled with fresh aches. This time he allowed it to. A proper moment to grieve, even if just a little. It was far from enough, of course. It still wasn't a genuine processing of everything that had happened. It still wasn't acceptance. Far, far from it. But it did feel just a touch closer.
When his heart had settled enough to let the pain pass over him, he turned. The man watched as he adjusted his vambraces, flexed his gloved hand.
Time to get going again.
Original Ao3 endnotes:
I've always found the dialogue in the "Voyage of the Goobbue" quest surprisingly touching.