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As the twins move to join the three Archons, G’raha motions to the remaining two members of their party, beckoning them to the Worldly Affairs Official’s desk. He’s already informed the official that they are not Sharlayan natives, but assures her of their upstanding reputation. The official herself had only cocked her eyebrow and eyed the two well-armed and outlandishly-garbed members of the party, mumbling a barely audible “I’ll be the judge of that.” She huffs, regarding Eidin first. “Name and occupation?”
Eidin takes a breath, previous caution about mentioning involvement in worldly affairs suddenly disregarded in favour of the desire to prove to this snooty Sharlayan Lalafell that she is worthy of respect. “Eidin Merlwyn.” She lifts her head a touch, barely looking down her nose, crossing her arms and cocking her hip. “Warrior of Light, Saviour of Eorzea, Slayer of Primals, Bringer of Peace, etcetera.” She tries to restrain a smirk. Listing off her notable epithets never fails to make her preen.
“Hmm…” The official brings a finger to her bottom lip, flipping through the book Alisaie had informed her of not moments prior. Eidin chances a glance to her protégé and the rest of their party waiting on the opposite side of the intake area. “‘Eidin Merlwyn’ is not a known valid name within our records.” The official sneers. “Care to try again, ma’am?”
Eidin’s pride deflates, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets in shock. She barely registers the twins and G’raha exclaiming words of disbelief and denial and conspiracy as she processes the accusation, half tempted to join their protests.
The official raises a hand, glaring the party down. “Silence!” She booms, at an impressive volume for her stature. The group quiets. “I am not insinuating that you are not who you say you are, only that the name you currently use is not the name that’s on record for the individual before me.” The official rubs her temple. “If you would kindly provide me with that information, I would be happy to amend our records for any future visits.” Her expression turns saccharine, but it’s obviously disingenuous.
Eidin looks through the official, eyes wobbling in disbelief.
How did they know? She verbalizes the question, tacking on “...S’been nearly three decades. N’how d’you even have a record of my birth name?!” Her accent is starting to slip through in her distress. She wants to glance over her shoulder, at her colleagues, friends, family, to gauge their reaction to this information, to her, but she doesn’t.
The official stares blankly, clearly resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I don’t have knowledge on how the original information was procured, ma’am. However,” She inhales, “...like I said, I will amend the records if you wish. I just need to verify your identity first.” The official laces her fingers together above the pages of the book. “You have to understand how… protective we are as a society. It is extremely important to our work that we ensure everyone on Sharlayan soil is who they say they are and,” She pauses, pushing up her glasses. “...that they are trustworthy.”
Eidin sighs, tightening her crossed arms around her chest. She hasn’t felt this small since she denounced her former name - and she’s the tallest person she knows. Suddenly, she’s back in Martrvje’s harbor, thrown face-down on the deck of her first boat. She was only a teenager, starting a new life after her old one had been burned to ash by betrayal and Garlean warfare. Eidin had been squeezing her eyes shut, biting back the bitter memories while searching for any that would grant her access to the cage she’s kept locked beside her heart since the day she received her scars. She can almost feel the blood dripping down her cheeks, concealing any tears she had shed.
She exhales, shaky and drawn out, stabilizing herself. “Eidinibylda Syhrnbharnwyn. From Volod, Bozja.” She allowed her native tongue to wrap lovingly around the eight syllables of her birth name, and the four of her hometown. Sepia-toned hazy memories flash in front of her vision as she speaks words unsaid for nearly 30 years. Normally, she’d chalk something like this up as an Echo-vision, but none of the individuals in the memories have faces. Hearing her name said out loud in her own voice sends a flicker of nostalgia straight to her heart, making her think of her mother. Eidin takes a breath. Equally humorous and annoyed, she asks “Do you need my nameday as well?”
The official makes a noncommittal shrug, but Eidin provides the information anyway. “Twenty-first Sun of the Fourth Astral Moon. Fifteen-forty of the Sixth Astral Era.”
She doesn’t notice how the group’s eyes all widen at this new information, even when their group’s famously stoic Dragoon arched a brow.
The official lowers her eyes, flipping through the book. Eidin swears she saw the faintest hint of a green flash, but no one else noticed if it had. The official raises her head, a slight if not self-righteous smile on her lips. “Your identity has been confirmed, and I have amended the records so that your chosen name will be valid upon any further entry. Your… various titles” The official waves her hand flippantly, making Eidin’s vision flash red. “...have also been registered. Welcome to Sharlayan, Ms. Merlwyn.”
Relieved to be free of the interrogative Lalafell, Eidin retreats to join their party, meeting their gazes and gauging each of their reactions. The twins - especially Alisaie - had stars in their eyes. Y’shtola seemed fairly nonplussed, while the men wore two very different versions of smug pride. “What?” She asks of the latter pair, raising a hand palm-up to emphasize, but the surname “Varlineau” catches everyone’s ears, and they focus on the revelations of Estinien’s identity instead.
Krile shows up a few moments later, filling in the blanks in Estinien’s declaration, effectively ending the group’s intake examinations. The official sighs, looking like she really wants to pinch the bridge of her nose as she warns Krile about the “company she keeps”. Most of said company had already moved to the next circular area of the dock, but could still hear the conversation between the two Lalafell.
Eidin rolls her eyes impatiently, slides both of her hands on her hips, and puts all her weight on her left leg. Thancred sidles up to her and elbows her hip. Eidin eyes him from above without moving her head, letting the silence hang. She knows full well what he wants to ask, but she’s going to make him work for it.
Thancred blinks a couple times, then crosses his arms. “Don’t wanna talk about it?” He finally asks.
“How’d’ya figure that one out?” Eidin deadpans.
“I mean…” Thancred shrugs. “I can see why you changed it. Roegadyn names are a pain in the arse.”
Eidin also shrugs, closing her eyes smugly. “For some, maybe.” She can feel Thancred bristle beside her, which is then amplified by the collective light chuckles from the group.
“Quite a fitting one for Hydaelyn’s champion, is it not?” Urianger adds on. “Veiled purpose given physical form is a common trait among the names Sea Wolves grant their progeny.”
Of course Urianger would know what her name meant. Eidin tries not to blush from the uncharacteristic vulnerability she’s being forced to endure. She’s well aware of what her name means, and the weight it would have carried had her life remained on its initial course. She pushes down the thoughts of her late (lost) brother that start bubbling to the surface.
“What does it mean?” Alisaie asks, bold yet timid, after Eidin’s been silent for a touch too long. “If… if you don’t mind, of course.”
Eidin couldn’t resist Alisaie even if she tried, regarding her protégé with a soft expression. The information is pulled from her almost unconsciously. “It means - meant - Oath Maker. Surnoms‘re patronyms,” She shrugs “...just ‘daughter of my father’.” A pause, which she fills with the answer to the hanging question. “He was ‘Fearless Bear’. So I was born ‘Eidinibylda Syhrnbharnwyn’,” Her native accent cradles the syllables again. “...‘Oath Maker, Daughter of Fearless Bear’.”
“And now?” Alphinaud asks, tilting his head.
“M’still ‘Oath Maker’.” Eidin half-chuckles at the irony, acknowledging Urianger’s comment with a sidelong glance to the Elezen. “...just shortened for convenience’s sake.” She sighs again. “I made my new surnom a matronym, but not of my birth mother. My new mother.” She stands straight, crossing her arms. “‘Merlwyn’ means ‘Daughter of the Sea’.”
The silence is palpable as the Scions who didn’t know what Eidin’s name, let alone surname, actually meant in the Roegadyn language - meaning everyone except for Urianger and Y’shtola - absorb it and its implications. A new layer of understanding has been granted between them and their oft-too-distant hero, and they take a moment to appreciate it. But it’s not long before Alisaie closes the gap between her and her mentor, placing a hand on the Roegadyn’s forearm. When Eidin doesn’t refuse her affections, Alisaie loosely wraps her arms around Eidin’s thighs, since that’s as high as she can reach. Eidin unfurls her arms and rests her hands on Alisaie’s shoulders a moment later.
“Don’t y’all start worryin’bout me now.” Eidin chides, eyeing the rest of the group directly. “It’s been decades, and’ve not cared nor thought about it ‘til today.”
Y’shtola had been quiet, content to absorb the information. “Well, we should make sure to pay a visit to your grandfather while we’re here, then.” She chuckles lightly, placing a hand loosely in front of her mouth.
Eidin’s jaw goes slack, eyes screwing in confusion. “Shtola, honey. I thought all the ‘was’s in my tragic explanation would be enough to let y’all know that my family’s dead.”
Thancred lights up, suddenly following Y’shtola’s lead. “No, no. She’s right. In fact, he lives right on the edge of the harbor!”
“...What the fuck’re y’all on about?” Eidin shakes her head, lifting her shoulders in a weak, bewildered shrug.
Urianger fills in, trying to guide Eidin to the punchline. “Thy surname, Eidin. ‘Daughter of the Sea’. Whom is the Mother of the Sea, and whom is her Father?”
Thancred groans, complaining about Urianger being a spoilsport as Eidin wracks her brain for the brief education she’d received on Eorzea’s mythology. “Llymlaen.” Eidin answers confidently to the first question. She should know, she took her first steps in Eorzea on Limsan stone. “And her father…” Was obviously one of the other Twelve, who lived on Sharlayan’s harbor… Eidin cranes her head to scan said harbor behind her. It doesn’t take long for her eyes to reach the tails of the massive statue of Thaliak, pouring an unending stream of water from his Ewer of Knowledge into Scholar’s Harbor.
She pouts, thinning her eyes in mock annoyance.
“You’re sooooo fucking funny, Shtola.” Eidin drawls as she turns back to the Miqo’te mage, cocking an eyebrow.
“I have my moments.” Y’shtola smirks, flipping her too-short hair not over her shoulder in any way.
“Alright ladies, enough flirting.” Krile interjects, apparently finally done with her conversation with the Worldly Affairs Official and Estinien, who is now lightly jogging ahead of the group, shouting something about hazard pay in Krile’s direction. Krile responds to the Dragoon by calling him “Ser Taciturn” or something to that effect, and beckons the rest of the group to follow them to the gates.
With the promise of a new adventure just ahead, Eidin’s already starting to forget about the incident not ten minutes prior.