Chapter Text
The Dawn Cross:
Noun;
A Spread of cards used in Sharlyan Astrology, the Dawn Cross uses all six of the major arcana and is believed to provide detailed information regarding a subject’s fate.
Summary: When a maid of the minor house of Guillame needs assistance finding her lost love, there’s only one person she can turn to for assistance. Loathe as she is to trust anyone in the oppressive regime of the Holy See during the height of the Dragonsong War, she may need some celestial guidance if she’s to bring her lost dragoon home.
Tags: Original Male Character, Original Female Character, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Jannequinard de Durendaire, Astrology, Tarot, Ishgardian Politics, Draconic Transformations
Coming to Jannequinard de Durendaire was a desperation.
The man of two and thirty summers was a puffed-up piece of gobshite who would flirt with anyone who had a comely face as sure as he would shirk his duties to both the house of Durendaire and the men and women who worked under it.
He was also the only proponent in Sharlyan Astrology and one of the few members of House Durendaire that did not immediately shy away at anything considered strange or foreign to Ishgard.
And what was Rana Iryut, maid and provisioner of House Guillame, former member of Lente’s Tears, Dalmascan Refugee by way of Ul’dah and Gridania, and Vieran Adventurer, if not foreign and strange to Ishgard?
But desperate times call for desperate measures. And when the second love of her life, Ser Laurent of the minor noble house of Guillame and member of the Order of the Knights Dragoon, had been missing for three days with the rumors of a strangely powerful Aevis having appeared in the Western Highlands? Times were desperate indeed.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, milord.” Rana’s voice is cool as she pours them both tea, the tanned skin of her hands the only skin visible outside of her face. Wearing a simple Ishgardian gown and the typical Hennin that marks a married woman inside of Ishgard’s Hoplon, she has crafted her disguise well. Her ears, stuffed into the long and conical hat, make her seem more a strange and foreignly Elezen than anything so exotic as a Viera.
Well. Except for the nose.
“I am aware it’s a breach of etiquette for me to call upon a Lord such as yourself, but when I heard you were a Master of Sharlyan Astrology, I thought you might be able to assist me.” Master was hardly a title fitting him, if what she’d overheard the Sharlyan lass, Leveva, whinging about. Never took his lessons seriously, always off planning parties instead of focusing on his work. But Rana will take advantage of his ego, especially with the favor she is to ask.
“Oh, nonsense, Lady, ah…” He pauses, grasping for the name. “Earyute?” She winces at how her name is mispronounced, accented heavily with Ishgardian.
“Yes. My father has mentioned good things about you, always willing to lend a hand when it comes to crafting and gathering-”
“I thank you for the compliment, but I am not here to discuss myself. I’m here to discuss Laurent.”
The look that crosses Jannequinard’s face is one of sympathy, and she wonders if her own emotions regarding her employer are so transparent. That she worries for him, the gentle man who had saved her from being frozen to death after getting lost between Mor Dohna and Gridania. More than worry, she loves him. And his death- she does not know if she could stand another heartbreak. Not after so many years of struggle and strife.
“Ah, yes, I overheard some of the Astrologians mentioning he disappeared about the same time as the Aevis did. He is probably tracking the thing to kill it, as is his duty.”
She is silent as she holds her teacup close to her lips, trying not to betray her concerns. For she had read the writings in Laurent’s study. The carefully preserved memoirs of his dragoon father, who had detailed the most wicked of heresy. That a man could ingest the blood of a dragon and transform. That, if that man was a dragoon, he could come back from it.
She does not know if Laurent has done the same foolish thing. Does not know if perhaps the shard of the Dragon’s spirit that resides in the soul crystals have resonated, dominated, sang out for blood and would not be sated until his thirst was slaked. She does not know if he is dead in a snowbank somewhere, or captured by Heretics, or spirited away by the inquisition. She only knows that she wishes to find him, and will believe in these fool magics if it gets her the answers she seeks.
“All the same,” She carefully sets down her teacup, smoothing out the skirts of the plain, dark blue dress.
“He has not reported in for several days. His sisters are worried. His mother is worried. And I know Laurent would not leave his family without their protector and benefactor in these times. So, Ser Durendaire, I ask of you this favor- can you divine his location? Not just for the House of Guillame but the house of Durendaire? After all, if your readings return a dragoon to the walls of Ishgard, to be able to defend her….”
She can almost hear the gears whirring in his head, louder than the steam engines of the Manufactury.
“... It would certainly lend some credibility to the Sharlyan Style of Astrology in the eyes of the Holy See…”
It takes less than twenty minutes for him to set himself to the task. The deck of sixty is drawn from his robes with a charlatan’s panache. With a soft tug of aether from the weave of the star, his planisphere twirls above the table as he shuffles the deck.
Six cards are drawn.
Rana does not pretend she understands what they mean or how they are supposed to help. Only that he stares at the images as they turn over in his hand, babbling explanations. The first card that he draws, The Tower, inversed, meaning Laurent is currently facing a great trial. To the left of it, he draws another card and places it- something about how his duty compels and burdens him, and how to the left, the card that is revealed is a single chalice with a ruby red heart on it.
“Love is what’s currently driving him to action. Maybe he’s off killing the Aevis to secure your citizenship of Ishgard.” Jannequinard says with a smirk, and her heart sinks. Below the tower, he places another card and murmurs something about a grievous injury. The bottom card, the arrow, is flipped in the inverse- that some great wanderer will end up dealing him a mortal blow.
Jannequinard pauses when he pulls the final card- what is supposed to be the summation of it all. How it all will end, or perhaps where to find him.
“Huh. That’s strange.”
“What is?”
“Well… This card means two different things. Normally we’re able to tell what it means by the inverse- Umbral and Astral- but this… hm.” He adjusts his monocle as he crosses the Tower with The Spear, the image of Halone in her ice palace clear upon the gilt-edged card.
“The Fury- when the card is upright- usually means success. But when the card is inverted, it normally has something to do with… romance.”
The look of befuddlement is clear upon his face, and Rana can feel her own cheeks starting to redding.
“... I’m sorry, ser, but I am hardly an Astrologian-”
“Nor is he.” A sharp female voice calls from the doorframe.
The young hyur woman with lilac hair who stands in the doorway can’t be more than twenty summers, but her youth is certainly masked by the practical imperiousness of tone that seems to bring Jannequinard to attention.
“Ah, Lady Leveva, I wasn’t aware you would be back so soon-”
“From you missing yet another lesson? Don’t worry, Quimperain told me where to find you.”
She pauses as she looks over at Rana, who is silent as she stares at the cards with absolute befuddlement.
“Honestly, were you trying to give someone information with a parlor trick?” Leveva huffs a sigh as she pulls out her own Astroglobe.
“What are you trying to find?”
In a few hours time, Rana has shed the pretense of being a proper lady and donned armor she’s borrowed from a member of House Durendaire at Jannequinard’s request. With the kite shield on her back and winglet at her hip, she grips the reigns of her war chocobo’s harness and sets off for Falcon’s Nest.
Gripping the mark of the wanderer she keeps around her neck, she sends out a silent prayer to the only gods that have ever mattered in her life- Halone, Nophica, and Oscheon three- that she will find her beloved Laurent before he loses himself to the wyrm’s blood forever.
She can only hope that the cross of his future lands to the side of the light.