Chapter Text
And finally, the last caravan had left Vesper Bay as well. The refugees fleeing from the regions of the world under Garlean occupation moved on their journey, just as the setting sun started painting the waters of the Rothano Sea in amber.
Wilan stood there, watching the caravans move away, slowly pulled by chocobos. The young adventurer still didn’t feel at ease with politics; his was a frank, genuine soul, who struggled to comprehend the intricacies of bureaucracy. His place was there where he could physically lend a hand, he thought, like helping exhausted refugees after a long journey over the ocean.
Sometimes they would ask him why somebody of his status would still dirty his hands with such humble jobs, but Wilan could think of no better way to really make a difference in the world. Although he couldn’t deny that ever since his notoriety had started becoming bigger than he was it was starting to be harder and harder to find people willing to accept his help. It was as if, in their eyes, he was too important for such trifles, as if people started seeing in him the archetype of a perfect Hero, and not an everyday man armed with good intentions.
There was some time left until the last ferry to Vylbrand, so Wilan decided to do one more round of the settlement to make sure nothing was amiss.
It was then that he saw her.
A girl, an au ra. She was sitting on the dock, gazing toward the waters, at the setting sea. Wilan was pretty sure she got off the boats with the other refugees.
Her red hair was cut short, in a hasty and uneven manner, and her clothes were dirty and worn. She was staring at the horizon, quiet, still.
Wilan wondered how could she have been left behind. Had she not noticed, he wondered, the other refugees moving? That seems unlikely, seeing as only half a hour earlier Vesper Bay was bustling with people and voices, much to the discomfort of its inhabitants. But then, why…?
Wilan took a step toward her.
And a splitting headache tore away the world from his perception.
“Mom! Mom, c’mon, get on board! You said we would have left together!”
It’s night. The air is cold and chilly. The waves broke rhythmically on a small beach below a tall cliff. The hushed, sobbing protests of a girl shivering from the cold who refused to let her mother’s arm go barely rose above those of the seamen who were hastily making preparations for the boat to take the sea, now that everyone was on board. The woman knelt down at the side of the boat and hugged her daughter. She knew she couldn’t leave with her. Everything she had, everything she could sell, all the money she managed to scrape together was just barely enough to secure passage to only one of them. And she wouldn’t have to think one minute to know which of them would get on that boat.
And somewhere, deep inside her heart, Delen knew it as well. She had suspected they didn’t have enough gil, but she wished she was wrong. The hoped, until the last moment.
“I love you, Delen. Be happy.” The woman whispered to her.
“Mom…” said her weakly, hope starting to leave her voice at last.
But before she had time to reply to her, to say that she too loved her, one of the sailors rudely pulled the two women apart. “We’ve got to go! Those dogs might have spotted us!”
And just as the boat started moving away from the beach, about to be swallowed by the night, an authoritative voice came from the cliff shouting “Halt! Who goes there?”
And the girl stifled a cry in her hands.
Just as soon as it had come, that vision ended and Wilan found himself once again standing at sunset on Vesper Bay’s dock. Again he looked at the girl, who didn’t seem to have noticed him, who still stared melancholically at the sea, and sighed. If there was a way to control those visions granted to him by the Echo, he knew it not. What he knew is the Echo never seemed to have allowed him to peek into the past of somebody who wasn’t in deep need for help.
He sighed again, and slowly he walked closer to her.
“Hi.” he said, tentatively.
If the girl had heard him she did not react, but her shoulders seemed to stiffen imperceptibly. Her breath remained calm and slow.
Unsure of how to get to her, Wilan continued. “Liste, uh… I couldn’t help noticing you were with… I mean, you know, the group.”
Silence.
“You… clearly noticed the others have left, right? But, hey, we can still reach them on chocoboback. I can take you there if you want.”
More silence. Wilan sighed once more, and after another long moment he took another step toward her.
“Forgive me, I haven’t even introduced myself.” He said, kneeling at his side, trying to keep his voice calm and friendly. “I’m Wilan.”
Finally that got a reaction from her. The young au ra suddenly turned to face him, so rapidly that she made him flinch. Her eyes hurried to meet those of the hyur, and as she put his face in focus she drew in a breath through her teeth.
But whatever had been to give her that jolt of life had disappeared just as suddenly. Wilan could see her eyes lose focus and become vacant again, her head lowering, her muscles relaxing. Slowly, she dragged herself back to her original position. Despite being confused by that reaction, Wilan couldn’t help but optimistically notice that it was, indeed, progress.
“And…” he tried keeping the momentum going. “and you? I mean, what’s your name?”
Once again, silence. Silence that dragged on for so long that Wilan was already thinking about a different approach. But just as he parted his lips to say something else, the girl said with a weak murmur and with a voice that sounded like it had been left coarse by crying.
“…Delen.”
Wilan’s chest felt warm with hope. “Can I sit next to you, Delen?”
Again she remained silent for a long moment, only to then give a murmur of consent.
“Tell me, Delen…” he considered his words carefully. A practice, however, he had never been very good at. “How come you didn’t follow the other refugees?”
Without taking her eyes away from the horizon, the auri girl replied: “…what does it matter anymore?”
Wilan made an effort to appreciate how her silences were becoming shorter. But he also couldn’t ignore how sincere that answer felt, especially given his vision.
However, he couldn’t just leave her here, drowning in her own sorrow. Delen needed somebody who helped her stand up again, now more than ever. She needed that, if she was to honor that last request her mother had given her. Be happy.
“Where do you hail from? One of the territories under Garlean rule, I suppose. Ala Mhigo maybe? Doma?” Wilan asked again, to stoke the embers of that conversation. Truth to be told he had already guessed where she might be from, but he wanted to offer her something she could talk about.
“Mh.” She replied, in a negative tone of voice. Then she added, “Werlyt.” And then, after another moment, “Terncliff.
Wilan had heard about the imposing cliffs from the region to the east of Ala Mhigo. He hoped one day to be able to see them with his own eyes, hopefully free from Garlean rule. “Terncliff.” he repeated with interest. “So you’ve been born near the sea. So did I, you know?”
She didn’t know, but she didn’t seem particularly interested in it either, and offered no response. Wilan kept thinking of another way to reach her.
If she’s from Werlyt, he thought, she’s basically a political refugee. For a moment he considered convincing her to join the caravan again, but memories of Uldahn refugee camps, of emigrants left to their own devices, victims of hunger and poverty, made him change his mind. He imagined Delen trying to deal with Uldahn bureaucracy, to suffer hunger and even more misery, only to maybe be denied access to the city anyway. He had seen many refugees gather together, support each other, but she was alone. Even the boat he had seen in his vision wasn’t carrying but a small handful of refugees, and it probably joined a larger ship from the far east.
And not all of them had survived the journey.
Wilan sighed, defeated, and he found himself gazing at the horizon as well, looking for an idea. But he had to admit not even someone like him could solve by himself a problem so large and systemic like immigration. As he often found himself saying lately, he wasn’t cut for politics.
And yet there had to be something he could do. To ignore the plight of those one might conceivably safe is not wisdom, after all, it is indolence. And if he could help even one person for this whole tragedy, even just one single tired and scared girl, however insignificant that might be in the grand scheme of thing, it would have been worth it.
He couldn’t solve problems that big by himself.
But he could at least help this one single person.
Suddenly, he lurched forward, his eyes wide.
“Delen!” he said enthusiastically. “Delen! I’ve got an idea! I know what to do!”
“W-what?” she asked, almost scared by his outburst. “What to do… about what?”
But of course! Wilan thought standing up, the realization giving him a sense of urgency. And the offices are right here in Vesper Bay too! What a coincidence! “C’mon, stand up! I know what to do now! To help you, of course!”
He offered her his hand and her, confused, took it without a clear idea of what was happening.
When he became a member of the Scions Wilan had been informed that his position came with many benefits, and among these the possibility to employ a number of personal assistants. He scoffed at the idea, used as he was to be Eorzea’s errand boy. He just couldn’t see himself bossing around some assistant, so he turned the offer down. But maybe, maybe, now he could finally have a use for that perk.
“C’mon, follow me!” he repeated, enthusiastically, not sparing a moment to explain his idea to her. “If he hurry we can probably still catch the last ferry for Vylbrand!”