Chapter Text
“Ma, no, it’s fine – really!” N’adana sighed as her mother adjusted her armor, calloused fingers tugging on straps and tightening the laces of her boots. “It’s not like I’m going to be fighting right away, ‘ts just a boat ride!”
Her mother stood and smiled wistfully at her – an image she didn’t realize she would play over and over in her head in the nights when she missed home the most. Every time she thought about their goodbye, she remembered her mother’s green eyes that reflected her own. She remembered the bustle of the Limsa Lominsa decks, the murmur of the crowd drowned out as her mother doted over her only daughter. She remembered the salty air that made her homesick every time she caught a whiff of anything even remotely close. She remembered that in that moment, she was determined to make her mother proud.
“I know, I know, but let me ‘ave this.” Her mother leaned forward and brushed aside her copper bangs to kiss her forehead. “No daughter o’ mine is gonna show up in the shimmerin’ Ul’dah lookin’ a right mess, is she?”
N’adana chuckled softly, leaning into her mother’s comfort. “I’ll be back soon, aye? I’ll come back to you when I’m a right proper gladiator, just you see!”
“You’re already a proper gladiator in my eyes, Adana.” Her mother held back tears, not one to cry, especially in public. She didn’t want her daughter to leave her, but what else did she expect? Both her children had taken after their father, after all. She prayed to Azeyma every waking moment that she wouldn’t lose N’adana in the same way. As much as she hated to admit it, N’adana’s heart had been forged in fire, and her heart became a blade that she longed to use and protect, just as her father and brother did before her.
“Thanks, ma. Take care of yourself, alright?” The bell for the boat to Ul’dah rang, a gruff voice thick with Lominsan inflections let them know that it was almost time to leave.
Her mother pulled her in for a tight hug, stroking her unruly hair and burying her face in the top of her N’adana’s head. “I love you.” She sighed, the phrase holding so many meanings that she had already expressed in just three simple words. Is there anything I can do to make you stay? Don’t get into trouble without me! I’m so proud of you. Please, don’t let me lose you, too.
“I love you too, ma’!” The final call for her boat rang, the young miqo’te pulled back and hesitantly ran off towards the ramp. “Remember to lock the back door when you go out, and remember to give Milo his nightly treats!”
“That’s why he’s so damned fat!” Her mother called back with a smile, waving to her heart as she disappeared up the ramp, returning only a moment later, her small frame pushing passed the other passengers, to lean over the banister and wave down at her again. N’adana’s mother watched the boat until it was out of sight, her arms crossed over her chest as the sea breeze comforted her in the midday sun.
She didn’t let herself cry until she returned home. It was quiet, except for the chirp of a speckled tabby that curled up in her lap and purred when she sat at the empty, worn table by the door.