Tag: Arshtat Ejinn

XXIX: Dote

“Luv, really, I’m fine.”

“Y-You’re bleeding s-still—should I go g-get a healer…? I… I
don’t know where a-any are and I shouldn’t leave you—”

“Luv, would you stop fussin’ and come over here where I can
reach you already?”

Arshtat paused, the floorboards creaking under her weight as
she collected things from around their room. Her arms were full of towels and
bandages, and anything that might have been of use. Perhaps she was overreacting,
Madoc certainly thought she was.

But he was the one who had returned home late at night,
bleeding. It was not the first time, much to Arshtat’s dismay, but rarely it
was this bad. Or this bloody.

The wound itself was not that bad, Madoc had tried to tell
her. Arshtat admittedly had not gotten a close look before she had panicked and
hurried around to collect what they had to tend it. It had bled, quite a bit,
but it was only a singular bite wound around his lower leg where something had
latched on.

The little Xaela was no doctor, but she could patch up a
wound well enough. She had gotten quite a bit of practice since meeting Madoc.
She knew he didn’t like the worried doting, but she often gave him no choice.
It helped ease her own mind.

Shaking her head once, ignoring his sad almost-whine, when
she refused his offer, Arshtat finished collecting her supplies and only then did
she move closer. But she gracefully dodged a reaching arm, and instead kneeled
on the floor by his wounded leg.

Madoc sighed, amused, but dropped his head back on the couch
and let her work. Some time later, it was cleaned, stitched and bandaged. He
had tried to get up once, but the fiery glare he had received when he tried had
him sinking back in the cushions pretty fast.

After the wound was taken care of, she had frantically
cleaned up the blood, and hurried off to the kitchen to make him something to
eat. Khuu had taken a spot next to him on the couch, curiously tilting his head
this way and that, unsure what the commotion was about.

Madoc inclined his head toward the cub, the corner of his
lips twitching up, “Aye, best not ask her for the ale now.”

Khuu merely tilted his head again.

When Arshtat finally returned, he humored her by finishing
the meal. It was hard to turn down anything when she gave him eyes like that.
He could tell she was still worried. But it really hadn’t been anything to
worry about.

She fussed a little more, gathering extra pillows and a
blanket so he could elevate the leg. She started a fire in the hearth. And only
after all of that, did she finally give in and let him take her into his lap.

Madoc glanced down, fingers brushing through her long hair.
He smirked. She was out like a light. It wasn’t a surprise, with all the
scurrying about she’d done. Arshtat was curled against his chest, arms loosely wrapped
about his middle. Khuu had also claimed part of his lap, head resting on his thigh
as he slept.

He let out a long breath, shaking his head. He guessed he didn’t mind being doted on every now and again if it all ended up like this.

Featuring @locke-rinannis‘s Madoc Parnell

Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldn’t live without.

“I do not like to think of such… circumstances but I suppose…” she tilts her head, thinking, but soon offers without  much hesitation. “Madoc and Khuu. They are m-my family now. If everything else was gone… I… I know we would be fine if we were together.” There’s another pause, this one longer, “The third… well, p-perhaps my bow? It is about as much as I took with me from the Steppe, and it has kept me company.”

Crowds: What does your muse think of big cities? (Arsh)

“I… admittedly still am getting used to them,” she glances to the side, humming. “When I f-first arrived here, one of the first places I c-came to was Ul’dah. I was overwhelmed. So many people and towering buildings like mountains. It was quite different than the Steppe. I have gotten used to L-Limsa though, I think. It is where I do most of my shopping. And I enjoy that it is built over the water.”

XXIV: Undertone

She had once called it bittersweet, to think back on her
homeland.

Arshtat had found happiness, that was not a lie. But part of
her would be dishonest if she did not admit to feeling sad, still. Most
especially with the coming moon.

It was hard to believe she had ended her brother’s life two
full cycles ago. No matter how far gone he had been, it was a deed she had done
with her own hands, and it was a memory that would likely never leave.

Two cycles ago and some, she had left her homeland,
following her brother’s bloody trail to Eorzea. Two cycles ago she had found
companionship, had found love.

She did not grieve, she did not regret. But Arshtat still
carried an underlying sadness that came through in her smile during these
moons. It was a strange thing, to have such a memory of pain to be followed by
one of utter joy.

Her brother was at peace. And so was she. But she still
found herself seated upon the shoreline, staring into distant waters a smile on
her face and tears in her eyes. She could hold these memories in her heart and
find both.

Life was often this way.

Yet as she watched the sunrise over the La Noscean sea,
Arshtat reminded herself that this was where she was meant to be. All steps,
both happy and painful, had led her upon this road. She could not have one
without the other. In sadness, there was remembrance. And in happiness, there
was a future.

Perhaps next winter would be easier. And the one after
easier still.

When she turned back toward home, her new home, her tears
had dried. Her smile brought a light in her eyes again. And with one last look
to the sea, she whispered a prayer in her brother’s name and drew her fingers
to her lips.

“Until next we meet…”

XXI: Repast

The comforting smell
of the Broken Horn’s signature meals filled the tavern, mixing with cigar smoke,
and the burning of the wood in the fireplace. All of it had become the smells
of home.

Arshtat was finishing one of the last plates. She had ushered
Madoc out from the bar a few bells ago. Many of his old mercenary friends had
come into the place. They had teased him, at the start. She had only caught
pieces.

But she took heart to see that Madoc seemed to take it all
in stride, pouring them all drinks, insisting what they try on the menu. She’d
peek now and again from behind the kitchen curtain. He looked happy. They all
looked happy. And for that she could be relieved.

Of course, she wouldn’t admit to trying extra hard, making
sure everything was cooked to perfection, and that there may have been a little
extra on each plate. But she had.

Khuu had left her side a while ago. New people in the tavern
were always irresistible. The regulars knew better than to feed him scraps. The
new ones had yet to learn. Arshtat sighed, shaking her head. The tiger cub, who
was getting quite big, had made himself quiet content on one of their laps.

When the last of the food was finally done, she balanced the
three trays on her arms, which was a little hard considering the meals were
quite big and she was quite small. But she managed. She had been getting better
weaving in and out of the tables since they opened.

Setting the plates down on the table, she offered the group
a smile and a bow of her head. They seemed to have taken to her well enough,
but she still felt a bit out of place. As Arshtat turned to head back in the
kitchen, she felt an arm sneak around her waist.

“You’re workin’ too hard, luv.”

Her cheeks colored, but she certainly didn’t resist as Madoc
tugged her into his lap. And there she remained for the rest of the night.

Featuring @locke-rinannis‘s Madoc Parnell

XVI: Bond

Arshtat and Madoc moved as one.

Over the past two cycles, the two had formed a connection
that was hard for her to put into words. She had been a hunter, a provider for
her tribe. She often worked alone, was quiet in her movements. He had grown up
around mercenaries, he understood the uses of working together. But he was
loud, powerful, and unhinged.

They were the complete opposite of one another in the midst
of battle.

Yet they had come to flow as one, extensions of one another.
Each watched the other’s back, each knew their own strengths and weaknesses.
And while each would die for the other, there was a trust in their motions that
showed neither would let it happen.

When she could not support him at a distance, there was
little hesitation in moving in to fight at his side. A swing of his axe and she
would duck under, firing an arrow at another foe. As he slammed a strike down,
she would vault over his back landing a kick. She could distract. He could
finish.

It was a strange dance all their own.

And when it was over, both breathless and worn. He would
smile at her, lift her from the ground for an equally breathless kiss. They
would return, tend what wounds each had, share a warm bath and a warmer bed.

Arshtat did not have a word for it. She was not sure there
would ever be one in the common tongue or otherwise that would describe
something that unshakable. Though one phrase in her own tongue often came
close.

And so, each night she would say it. A reminder, a promise.

She would lean in close against his broken horn, placing a
kiss there and one across his temple. She would smile, and she would say in the
language of her homeland…

“You make me whole.”

Mentions of @locke-rinannis‘s Madoc Parnell

XIV: Validation

The sound of a loud splash and something clattering to the
floor caught Arshtat’s attention from downstairs. “M-Madoc?” she tried at
first, already in motion and heading up the steps of the tavern.

“I heard it, luv,” was the response called back from
somewhere upstairs, which made her hurry a bit. If he had heard it, and not
answered that it had been him, something could be very wrong.

However, when she rounded the corner, she certainly did not
expect the sight that awaited her. There was Khuu, their ever-growing little
tiger cub, hanging over the edge of the fish tank in their front lobby. He was
soaking wet, caught mid-escape but seemed unable to find traction enough with
wet paws to make it back over the glass.

The worst of it was he had one of their aquarium fish
dangling helpless from his little jaws.

“O-Oh… oh no, no no,” Arshtat gasped, hurrying over. Just as
she did, Madoc himself emerged from down the hall. The small Xaela gave him a
frantic look before scooping Khuu out of the water, unsure what to do with him
other than set him on the floor.

Madoc was staring, probably too amused given Arshtat’s clear
almost panic. But he honestly couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.

Arshtat turned and gave him a look, pushing her bottom lip
out at him at a rather poor attempt to look intimidating. Khuu, sat rather triumphantly
where he had been set, fish still in his mouth and far too late to save. After a moment
more, he set the fish down at her feet, looking back up with big golden eyes.

“Aw, come on, luv,” she could hear behind her. Madoc had
stepped up to her side. The sound of a smirk was heavy in his voice, she did
not even have to look to know he was wearing one as well. “Tell ‘em he did
good.”

She sighed, shaking her head, “W-We shouldn’t praise
something like this, Madoc…”

Khuu tilted his head to the other side, sopping wet, but
never looking away from Arshtat. He was making a little puddle on the wooden
floor, his fur dripping wet and all but hanging off him.

Arshtat wavered. She bit down on her lip hard, trying to resist.
It was impossible. Kneeling down at his level, she sighed, but now there was a
smile on her face. She could never really stay mad at the cub for long. “I…
suppose I will have to take you on a real h-hunt soon, won’t I?”

Khuu happily rubbed his little wet head into Arshtat’s hand.
It was clear that was all he really wanted. He had offered his mom a
spectacular gift after all.

Featuring @locke-rinannis‘s Madoc Parnell

VI: Hold (Free Prompt)

There was a warmth here, unlike any she had ever known. Here,
wrapped in his arms and embraced by the familiar scent of his cigars and the
ashes of the dying hearth. There was the slightest stream of light spilling
from a crack in the ever-so-slightly parted curtains. It danced over their entwined
forms, drawing a pattern across his back and through her hair.

It was early yet. The sun had only likely just begun to
rise. Arshtat had always been an early riser. Moments like this, where she lay
awake and simple existed within the circle of his arms, were not rare. Yet, she
doubted she would ever lose the feeling rooted in her chest each time she woke in
them.

A movement at her own back reminded her they were not the
only ones to enjoy the quiet morning. The little tiger cub was not awake, not
fully. But he always seemed to know when she was, shifting closer in a poor
attempt to keep her in place.

Arshtat smiled. She would never understand what she had done
to earn this place, surrounded by this warmth. And that was why she would
cherish every morning like this. Each one she would be given, would mean the
world and more.

She lingered there, a moment more, before slowly pulling
from Madoc’s arms. As she slid off the bed, he caught her hand. Looking down, Arshtat
gave a quiet, breathy laugh. He was barely awake. While she had always been an
early riser, Madoc usually was not.

She did not say anything, merely bent to leave a soft kiss
on his forehead and to tuck Khuu closer. The grip on her hand loosened as sleep
claimed him again, and Arshtat padded quietly out of their room and down the
hall.

Perhaps tomorrow she would linger, there in his hold. And
perhaps the day after that. It gave her a sense of peace, to know that she
could. It was not a lie, each time she spoke the phrase of feeling whole again.
Here, countless steps away from her homeland, she had found where she felt like
she belonged.

And that was a feeling she would never let go of.

Mentions of @locke-rinannis‘s Madoc Parnell

I: Submerged

Practiced fingers loosened damp strands of hair into
sections, curling around each piece in a fluid motion and braiding them
together. Arshtat’s feet were still buried in the sand near the shore, the cool
waters of the river licking her skin. The day was warm, only the subtle hints
of a breeze passing over the Steppe.

The sound of splashing water caught her attention, and she
rolled her eyes. Her brother was still enjoying himself, perhaps too much. “Vaathabat…”
she called out, voice drifting out, long and drawn upon a deep, yet amused
sigh. “It will be night soon, as much as I wish to stay, you know we should head
back to camp.”

Her brother turned, looked over his shoulder and merely
stuck his tongue out at her before falling back and letting the river keep him afloat.
Arshtat could only roll her eyes again; sometimes it was far too easy to forget
he was the eldest sibling.

“Just a few more moments, little sister,” Vaathabat let his
eyes close, the warmth of the sun covering him as he let the water hold him. “Where
did you go, I wonder. I remember having to drag you out by your tail just a
summer ago. You grow too fast.”

Arshtat could only laugh, shaking her head. Rather than play
into his tease, she let a comfortable silence fall over them. She finally
stood, pulling her hands over her head and stretching. She bent, drawing up the
bow and quiver she had laid aside for their swim, as well as her brother’s
knives and tunic.

As she stood again, her eyes caught sight of him
disappearing below the surface and she pursed her lips together. But
thankfully, she did not have to wait long. He resurfaced a few minutes later
and made his way to the shore.

“Look, little sister, come!” he breathed out, excitedly
panting as he stumbled up the sandy bank and to her. Arshtat tilted her head,
quite unusual for an Ejinn, it was, after all. Vaathabat met her halfway, and
she looked down to his hands.

There, clasped between his fingers was a necklace. Or a talisman.
She could not be sure. “W-What is it…? I have not seen such a thing before…”

“I do not know,” her brother replied, turning it this way
and that. It looked old, forgotten. It did not look of the Steppe. “It was
there, in the river. I saw the glint in the sun. I wonder how far it travelled,
hm? All for us to find.”

The longer she looked upon the thing, the more Arshtat felt
something was… off. It was cold, dark. Watching the necklace made her stomach
clench strangely. But why? Her gray eyes flicked up to him, as if for
assurance. But he was only smiles, almost proud of the bauble he had found in
the river.

As moons passed, she would finally understand why. And when
the smell of ash and blood filled her lungs, she could only wish the foul thing
had stayed submerged, hidden away in the depths of the river to never be found.