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A cloaked figure scampers past, footfalls suggesting that they’re in a hurry, a notion bolstered by the fact that they’re dodging through the swathes of idle shoppers in the trade area of the Limsa Lominsa docks, weaving in and out. It garners a few quick glances from those nearby, but ultimately, their eyes return to their quarry without a second thought. After all, it’s not an uncommon sight--many days go by with such scenes playing out, and it’s always a toss up as to the severity of the chase. Friendly? Perhaps about to miss their boat? Or something else entirely? If you’ve lived here long enough, you know not to pry.
A beat later, more commotion, as a large Roegadyn man appears hot on the cloaked figure’s heels, shortly followed by a few of his mates.
To Suri’s credit, they might've gotten away undetected, had that man not been traveling with fellows nearby that happened to witness their swift pickpocketing. If you ask, they would tell you that it was a bit of a rush job. Not their finest work.
Falling to the wayside, the Roegadyn man shouts, “Thief! Grab that swivin’ son of a bitch!” A gaggle of men continue the chase in his stead.
Undeterred, Suri rounds a cobblestone bend, cutting through a back alley mostly used for storage, its edges littered with barrels and crates. This is where they make a grave mistake. The last few times they had used this little getaway tactic, there was a caved-in portion of the stone wall partway through. It had deteriorated over time, and, luckily for them, was the perfect size for someone of their stature to squeeze through. However, at some point between then and now, it seems as though someone has sealed it up. Whipping their head behind them, they scan for any sign of their pursuers before hunkering down on all fours, crouching and weaving through the crates, doing their best to stay as low as they can. They begin to wonder if simply offering to return the object they pinched would spare them a grisly beating. (Of course it wouldn’t.) Clutching their ill begotten goods to their chest in a tight fist, they press on, trying to ignore the sounds of commotion behind them drawing nearer and nearer.
“Hey.” A voice whispers from the dark, nearly making Suri yelp. “This way.” They can barely make out the owner of the voice before they’ve slid back behind the stacked crates they were hiding behind. Between the ominous voice in the dark and the encroaching band of frenzied pirates behind them, taking their chances with the voice seemed to be their better option. Suri shimmies towards the crates the person who just spoke hid behind, and as soon as they’re past the threshold, their arm is grabbed, helping them to their feet.
“Quietly.” Whispers the owner of the voice, who, to Suri’s surprise, is a young miqo’te much like themself. “Hand it over.” She whispers again, extending her hand.
Suri hesitates. If they hand it over, then what? But then again, it’s already been more trouble than it's worth.
“I'll help you get away! No trickery, honest. Just give me what you nabbed!” She says with more urgency, “Unless you want to be strung up by those pirates?”
Without further dallying, Suri deposits the ring into the palm of the young miqo’te’s hand. Accepting this response, she then begins to slide her hand along the wall, rapping with her knuckles until she reaches a more hollow sounding portion. Once there, she gives the wall a few hard kicks. Within a few seconds, the “wall” creaks open, and before Suri can fully register what’s happening, they’re dragged inside, the entryway closing behind them with a crunch.
“Ah, tis just you, V’kebbe. What in the blazes are ya doin’? I wasn’t expectin’ ye. And who’s the cloaked cadger?” A stout burly bearded man mumbles, eyeballing Suri, who responds by idly tugging at their hood, unable to make eye contact. He’s quite stocky and sturdy-looking, with light coppery colored hair poking in tufts out of his green bandana. Though his thick beard obscures the better half of his face, his wariness is plain to see.
Suri now finds themself in a room that's lined floor to ceiling with all manner of tanned leathers, a few bags and purses, and some daggers; the aroma permeating the place smelling faintly sweet and musky. A storefront.
The young miqo’te girl named V’kebbe laughs. Now in a well-lit area, it’s plain to see the freckles sprinkled across her cheeks, her skin sun-kissed by the many hours spent traipsing through the balmy streets of Limsa. Her striking red hair is loosely pulled into a ponytail, bangs affixed with a few pins to keep them from falling into those prominent violet colored eyes. Her attire is largely unassuming, but she flaunts an eye-catching leather necklace adorned with a single smooth red stone. “You know your sorts just from a glance as always, Renard.” She responds with a grin. “We’re just passing through. I was tracking the ol’ matelot down by the port. You know the one.”
“Aye, that slimy bloke. Wait… He’s in town?” He glances at Suri again, eyebrows furrowed. “Might you be involved with ‘em?”
“Not exactly.” V’kebbe butts in, answering in their stead. “Actually, they decided it’d be a great idea to nab his precious ring.” She displays it with a little flourish. Suri is beginning to realize that, just maybe, they picked the wrong guy to steal from.
Renard sputters before dragging his hand down his face, stroking his beard, expression dour. “A death wish, is it? And yer gettin’ yerself involved ? Seems to me like gettin’ licked might do this lil’ feller some good.” He gestures to Suri. “But who am I kiddin’. Jacke rubbed off on ya, ‘tis plain to see.” He shakes his head. “Y’can’t save everyone. ” Despite his apparent distaste, he smiles. “Right then. Head straight back to Jacke, ye hear me? Don’t dawdle. I’ll be sendin’ along a line to make sure ye made it.”
“Oh, don’t worry so much!” She says, giving a noncommittal wave, “You're gonna give yourself even more wrinkles on that forehead of yours.” V’kebbe glides by the man, deftly dodging his playful grasp as she laughs, high and bright. Bewildered, Suri follows her, still having said naught a word. “I’m going to borrow one of your cloaks, Renny. I’ll bring it back later.”
“Help yerself, kid. And you.” Renard says, tilting his head towards Suri. “Don’t go causin’ any trouble for V’kebbe. Hear me?”
Suri manages to make eye contact before simply nodding. Quickly, they dodge out of the safety of that small shack, trailing along behind V’kebbe.
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They plod on together in silence for a while, V’kebbe’s numerous attempts at small talk having been met with naught by quietude. V’kebbe cocks her head, beginning to become frustrated. One of the things she hates the most is wasting her breath. She’s always been the talkative sort, and never one to give up so easily. She sets out with a different set of questions, in the hope of getting at least one reply. “So… Do you normally pick your targets so carelessly?” She asks, voice lighthearted. No response. “Because… That man that you stole from is bad news. A pirate that stocks the worst sort of goods--the human sort. And miqo’te like me… like you, ” Suri glances at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, trying to determine when she could have realized that. “Are worth quite a lot of gil.” She stops suddenly, facing Suri. “I imagine you stole that ring because you wanted to pawn it? Right?”
Suri hesitates before nodding.
V’kebbe laughs softly under her breath. “No merchant worth their salt would take it. That ring is akin to identification within the ranks of the Wolfram pirates. If word gets around that a merchant bought it, they’d be targeted too. And so,” She continues, “That’s how I know that you aren’t from around here. I’m not going to pry, so don’t worry, but it’s dangerous out there. I’ve been down the same road you’re walking now.”
“Is that why you helped me?” Suri finally speaks, startling V’kebbe. Their voice comes out fairly faint and monotonous, a product of its disuse. “I don’t have anything to give you in return.”
V’kebbe stops to look at Suri, playfully hooking a finger into their hood, amused. “So you do speak! How unexpected.” She smiles. Suri pulls away from her, embarrassed. “But yes, sorta. And I don’t expect anything in return. I know that’s usually how things work around here, but… I’ve been taught otherwise. Besides, us strays have to stick together! Right?”
For a blissful moment, Suri felt at ease, almost enough to want to pull that damned cloak off for once. It had been a while since they’d talked to another miqo’te--especially one that was around their age--not to mention someone who was simply pleasant in general. Thus far, they’d mostly been met with leering, coupled with untoward comments and strange hostility. Even their echo visions of late have been full of nothing but lechery and violence. It doesn't come as much of a surprise though, as the U tribe always taught that outsiders are vile and not to be trusted to begin with. Many of the passing merchants traveling through the Forgotten Springs spoke of Limsa in a similar fashion. But they can’t bring themself to regret their decision. It had to be this way. As a hub of information and knowledge from people from all walks of life, surely someone must have answers for them regarding the nature of their ‘curse’, those visions and voices that have haunted them ever since their youth. “Right…” They manage, idly thumbing at the hem of their cloak, unsure of what else to say.
She smiles broadly. “Then, If you’ve nowhere else to go, might I suggest…” V’kebbe trails off, her ears pinning slightly, eyes narrowing. “Follow me.” She says sternly, stepping in front of them and grabbing their wrist. “Through here, quickly!” She swings Suri around a corner, making sure to shield them as she does. Suri attempts to glance around to see what the rush is, but V’kebbe blocks them from seeing much of anything. The normal bustle around these parts had thinned out a bit at some point during their walk, leaving the two of them dangerously alone, especially in the area they now find themselves in. “Climb into that crate. Don’t say a word, do you understand? No matter what happens!” Suri opens their mouth, but just as quickly clamps it shut and does as they’re told. Just as they manage to slip the lid back on, peering through the slats, they witness a lanky looking Elezen man with dirty blonde messy hair round the corner and spot V’kebbe.
“O’er here, captain!” He shouts over his shoulder. The brawny Roegadyn man that Suri pickpocketed earlier turns up almost instantly, a sickening grin on his face. “Caught this one tryin’ ta hide after spottin’ me. Though, coulda sworn there were two…”
“I’ve got your ring right here.” V’kebbe interjects, her tone calm, trying to get ahead of the man’s questions. “My brother lifted it from you on a stupid dare. He’s never been the brightest, y’see. I was just on my way to give it back once I realized what it was.”
“Aye? That’s mighty kind of ye.” The Roegadyn man trods closer, each footstep feeling thunderously loud. “But, time is money, and…” He towers above her, “Your kid brother just wasted a lot o’ my time.”
Unphased, V’kebbe maintains eye contact with him, having to strain her neck to do so, but it's plain to see how puffed up her tail is. “I’m terribly sorry, mister… All I can do is apologize on his behalf and beg for forgiveness.”
“Nay… that’s not all ye can do. I’m thinkin’... 5 million gil?” He looks over his shoulder at the Elezen man, who shrugs and gestures a see-saw motion with his hand.
“We don’t have that kinda dough, mister…”
“Heh… That's about how much I could get for you , l’il kitten. For wastin’ my time and gettin’ to live to tell the tale, I’ll be takin’ you as compensation. Plenty of ol’ codgers that’d pay a fortune for a caretaker kitty. A shame I can’t give my regards to yer brother in person.” He snaps his fingers and points. “Bag her. Throw her with the rest in the storeroom. We set sail early in the mornin’.”
“Which storeroom?” The Elezen man says, scratching his head.
“The one a stones throw away from the ship, where else? Get yer head out of yer arse.” Another voice says.
V’kebbe takes a shaky step backwards, but any hope of retreat is instantly cut off by a Hyur man who seemed to appear out of thin air. Suri clamps a hand over their mouth, frozen. A stronger and more intuitive person could probably do something to rescue her, right? But they’re just a scrawny little half-pint. Their inaction and indecisiveness is just another mark of weakness in their mind. Digging their nails into the soft flesh of their palms, they simply watch. V’kebbe doesn’t even fight it. She doesn’t scream or kick. Suri looks on as they muscle her around the corner and out of sight, their footfalls gradually giving way to complete quiet.
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The gentle beams of sunlight filtering in through the slats of the crate gradually dim as Suri sits there in silence, head between their knees. This is, quite literally, all their fault. V’kebbe took the fall for them when she could have just pointed to the crate and said, He’s in there! Get him! I caught your thief! It should have been them that was carted off. They sigh, curling into a tight ball.
“One good turn deserves another.” Suri’s father’s soothing voice rings out from the corners of their mind, an echo of the life they’ve left behind. His laugh lines, the sun soaking into his dark tresses, making it glow a soft reddish hue. They could never forget those words. During the old days when he had the time to spare, or would allow Suri to linger during some of his business with passing traders as a cub, they got to see his charms fully at work. “One good turn deserves another.” He’d always say time and time again with that coy smile of his. In this situation, he would not hesitate, and they know it. Suri squeezes their eyes shut and pulls their ears down flush with the sides of their face.
“I’m not him. I could never be like him. And all I ever did was humiliate him in the eyes of our tribe with my shortcomings and… my curse.” Leaning their head roughly against the side of the crate with a thud, their eyes wander to a pair of small misshapen popotoes huddled in the corner near their feet. Too measly to be worth much, and thus, overlooked. They sigh once more, gently nudging them with their foot, making them roll. A couple of kindred spirits.
For reasons that they still are struggling to understand, V’kebbe stuck her neck out for someone like them. Perhaps, like the popotoes, their ineptitude was evident enough that she felt bad? Suri rests their cheek on their knee, sullen. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to move on. To leave her and pretend none of this ever happened but…
“Us strays have to stick together.” V’kebbe’s bright and kind voice rings in their ears.
They sit up a little bit, beginning to lift the lid of the crate. The storeroom by the ship, he said. The insignia on the ring was that of a wolf with horns. It should stand out in the port.
Right then.
With renewed purpose, Suri removes themself from the crate, stretching out and getting their bearings. The sun was beginning to set, the encroaching shade and cool wind nipping at Suri’s cheeks. They thumb the handle of their dagger hung at their waist, gazing off into the distance, face devoid of emotion. By nightfall, they’ll be in that storeroom, and then… they’ll just have to figure it out.
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Suri is no stranger to making themself scarce. Between them not wanting to draw any undue attention to themself and participation in hunts being a mandatory part of their upbringing; learning how to be quiet--how to stalk and hide and be unassuming--has been burned into them from a young age. Luckily, the difference between human and beast isn't entirely different on a detection scale. Stay low. No sudden movements. Listen and watch carefully. Patience. It's similar.
These past few months in Limsa have been quite enlightening for them on that front. As a means of survival, turning to pickpocketing and lifting small items--namely food --has been their only way to keep afloat. They've begun to notice patterns in unsuspecting victims; telltale signs, who to avoid, who seems distracted enough to target, and so on. Even so, this undertaking is far beyond their scope.
They stand on a precipice overlooking the port, an excellent vantage point to their quarry, which, as they're beginning to notice, is still awash with activity. A salty coastal breeze whips by as they survey the scene, hand planted firmly on the dagger at their waist, thumbing it idly as they usually do when lost in thought. The normal fare has died out, leaving mostly merchants and traders packing up their goods, shouting orders and shuffling about, casting animated shadows by the torch light. The Wolfram pirates aren't as brazen as one would initially think, seeing as none of the ships bear their symbol. Though, that shouldn't come as a surprise, knowing now of the manner of wares they offer.
Creeping ever closer, they attempt to pick out any familiar faces from their place in the shadows. There's numerous people coming and going to the storehouses littered around the port area, but thankfully, they've always been good at remembering features. Scanning through the crowd, their eyes catch and settle on the dirty blonde hair of a lanky Elezen man--the same man that accosted V’kebbe earlier. He stands heads above the rest, hauling some manner of goods in a drawstring bag. Bingo. Pressing themself into dark corner after dark corner, they begin their hunt, ears pinned tightly back, their eyes laser focused on watching his every move, their footfalls dead silent. They watch as he trods on, his lazy gait slowing once he gets to a medium sized wooden storeroom. Once there, he stops to chat with another man at its entrance. The exterior of the building is remarkably similar to that of a small two story house, complete with windows--though most of them are boarded up. This must be the place.
Suri begins making note of the exterior, struggling to decipher a way in before realizing that the structure has a roof window made of wooden slats up top. Their eyes trail along the buildings nearby, attempting a few routes with their eyes alone, feeling thankful for the cover of the encroaching night. Nights in the Sagolii desert from which they hail were pitch black, making it a must to learn how to see in low-light conditions, which was now more than ever a fortuitous boon. If they can scale the surrounding cobblestone fence a few buildings down, they’ll be able to hoist themself onto the roof with relative ease, and from there, going from roof to roof should be doable.
They skirt the edge of the buildings neighboring the storehouse, scouting it out from a distance, double checking that there’s nobody coming to and fro. Luckily for them, this path in particular is largely unused at this time of night, unless you’re a trader looking to pull out some wares for some reason. Scaling the cobblestone fence proved to be slightly more difficult than they originally anticipated, however. Their upper body strength is not the greatest, and on top of that, they've not been able to maintain a regular diet in months. With a bit of effort, they manage to scrape their feet along the side of the stones until they gain enough height to fully leverage themself over the top, looking a fair bit like an uncoordinated spider in doing so. From there, they do their best to walk flat-footed across the roofs and crates leading to the storehouse, staying as low as they’re able during the inclines and declines, taking great care not to slip or crash through a stray shoddy board.
At last, the storehouse. It’s a bit taller than the surrounding buildings, but not by much. It has windows and cills that’ll make it a tad bit easier for someone like Suri to scale, as they can rely partly on leg strength to hoist themself up. Just as they’re about to begin their ascent, the sound of nearby footsteps forces them to freeze, pressing themself against the siding and straining their ears to hear.
“Any word on why we’re settin’ sail so damned quickly? We’ve only been ‘ere ‘bout a day’.” The voice is familiar to Suri. That Elezen man, most likely.
“How’s I’m s’posed to know? They don’t tell me a whit.” An unfamiliar voice spits. “If I had to wager a guess, s’probably ‘cause them Rogues’ Guild blokes ‘ave been pushin’ their luck lately. I ‘eard they already nabbed Hughes. Reckon they were paid handsomely for his head.”
A sharp intake of breath. “Bloody hells. So Lyngberk is brickin’ himself o’er it?”
“Can ye blame ‘im? Didye see the sheer number of bodies we’re stowin’? Lots o’ gil on the line ‘ere. Now quit yappin’ an’ keep on yer toes.”
Suri watches as the Elezen man saunters by, casting a lazy glance towards their direction on the side of the storehouse. They hold their breath. After what feels like an eternity, he continues on with that same careless gait as before, completely unaware of the small miqo’te clinging to the sill of the second story window right in front of his nose. Thank the stars for the unrelenting shadows in this area! They allow themself to exhale before returning to the task at hand.
To most anyone, they’d hear that exchange and wonder if maybe they should head back. This is a band of pirates devoid of morals who are on high alert because they’re afraid of losing some of their “precious cargo”, so clearly it’s foolhardy to attempt to sneak in, especially alone. Suri, however, wasn’t thinking rationally at this point. They’ve come this far, they’ll figure it out, they’ll save V’kebbe. It’s simple, right? This is a test of ‘strength’. Their naivety is as clear as day. But more than that, there was something inside of them that was looking for a means of punishment for inadvertently causing someone so kind this much trouble. If they get caught, so be it. They deserve whatever happens next.
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Around two years ago, when V’kebbe was only 15, she found herself in much of the same situation she finds herself in now.
As a proud daughter of the migratory V tribe, she had spent a lot of time on the road, and even more time around lively taverns and bustling marketplaces. Using seasonal items gathered from the many locations they'd pass through, they'd stock a wide array of goods from many locales. They were fortunate enough to not want for much in their simple lives, and through word of mouth, their caravan became well known in some corners of Eorzea.
It couldn't last, however. Nothing good ever does, does it?
One night while traveling through the La Noscean foothills surrounding Limsa Lominsa, a fire broke out. It tore through their small settlement, taking countless lives and burning up the stock they were preparing to barter off in the morning. Passing travelers attempted to aid them, but the damage was done. In the span of a single night, they had lost almost everything. This came merely days after the nunh of the tribe had rented out a few extra carts from a lender, just for the duration of their stay around the outskirts of Limsa, as they had quite a bulk of stock to haul. In hindsight, it all makes sense. The lender seeks recompense for his destroyed carts, applying pressure to the remains of an already devastated tribe, corrals the surviving leader of said tribe, and gives him a few “options” for payment plans, lest there be consequences. V’kebbe never did get a chance to know what was exactly said during their exchange. In fact, she never got to speak to or see her father again. The very next day, she was chained and taken, having been sold off to repay her father's debts.
It's a tale as old as time, and definitely not unique. Limsa seeks to quash any and all folk of genuine means with duplicity and blackmailing, and if possible, wring as much coin out of it as they can while doing so. As far as V’kebbe was concerned, Limsans were all the same.
Or so she thought, until she met Jacke.
While her captors were finalizing transport plans, V’kebbe was kept in a small remote area near Costa del Sol, alongside other unlucky souls awaiting their departure to be sold off somewhere.
It happened so fast. There was a thump. A shout. A metallic clang that startled her, causing her to turn towards the commotion, and what a commotion it was! A band of adventurers clad in green that she would eventually come to know as members of the Rogues’ Guild were making quick work of the guards stationed nearby, some of them already belly down and being hog-tied.
“C’mon, folks.” A young man with fierce blue eyes and chestnut hair says, his commanding voice cutting through the chaos. “I'll un-do yer bindin’s. Yer all gettin’ outta here.”
“Jacke… “ V’kebbe clutches the red stone around her neck tightly. “ I can't keep relying on you to save me all the time… I got myself into this mess, it's up to me to figure a way out…”
V’kebbe lifts her head from between her knees, fortifying her resolve, and immediately gasps and jumps out of her skin at the pair of amber eyes gleaming at her from the dark, mere inches away.
“V’kebbe.” Suri says.
V’kebbe sputters, “You--what on earth are you doing here?!” She whispers harshly, her outburst drawing a few curious glances from other imprisoned individuals nearby, who are instantly just as dumbstruck by Suri’s presence. “Do you have any idea what they'll do to you if they-”
“No time.” Suri lifts a hand, cutting her off. “How can I help?”
V’kebbe stares at them, baffled. They came all the way here without a plan? But, impressively, they somehow snuck in without being detected. She can't decide on what to focus on more. She shakes her head and glances behind her, towards the entrance of the storeroom. “Look, I might be able to pick the lock, but it's facing the doorway. They'd be able to see me real easily.” V’kebbe glances at the few women locked in with her, who shuffle uncomfortably in response, eying each other. “Do you think you can create a distraction?”
“Like… a fire?”
V’kebbe winces and shakes her head, instantly feeling a bit sick. “Too risky.”
“Might be our only shot.” Someone from the neighboring cage whispers. “It'll burn slow enough to give us time to get out while they're busy tryin’ to figure out what's happenin’. Know any magicks?”
Suri looks down and away, shaking their head.
“No matter. Alls y’have to do is grab one of them torches without bein’ seen.”
V’kebbe feels panic grip her. They did hear that she said she only might be able to pick the lock, didn’t they? If she messes this up or takes too long, then…
A Hyur woman nudges V’kebbe out of her stupor with her foot and jerks her head towards the entrance, her expression calm. Someone was coming.
Suri immediately returns to the shadows from whence they came and hides themself behind a nearby ragged tarp that was being used to cover a bulky pallet stacked high with coffers.
Surprisingly, it’s Lyngberk himself popping by, the Roegadyn Suri stole from and captain of this particular Wolfram ship. The clack-clack of his boots reverberating through the storehouse as he strides by is nothing short of intimidating. “Bein’ good? Hmm?” He drawls as he goes by, eyeing the cages coldly. No one replies. “S’gonna be a mite chilly tonight. I suggest huddlin’ together fer warmth.” He retrieves a small chest from a nearby shelf, tucking it safely under his arm before doubling back from whence he came. “Roch. Recount the packs o’ powder in the back. We can’t be missin’ a single one when we make our delivery tomorrow.” His booming voice commands someone just out of sight.
At his behest, a tired looking Hyur man shambles by, carrying a flat-wick lamp by its handle, mumbling something about it being a waste of time. Everyone in the cages tracks him as he walks by before shooting each other knowing looks.
“I’m gonna try somethin’ in a second.” A man in the cage whispers towards Suri’s direction. “If it works out, yer gonna have to be quick, kid. I’ll get that bloke to come over here. If he’s stupid enough to leave his lantern, it's gonna be up to you to grab it. You know what to do after.”
“Got it.” Suri says quietly, before fading into the shadows once more.
V’kebbe begins to remove the pins from her hair, her hands shaking slightly.
Failure isn’t an option.
“I can do this.”
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From Suri’s new vantage point, they can plainly see the sleepy looking Hyur man, and more importantly, the lamp. He’s set it on the ground nearby as he begins his sisyphean task of counting and recounting the many bags of dubious powder as his captain instructed, his head drooping occasionally.
Instinctually, their ears pin back towards a small commotion that has broken out behind them, towards the direction of the cages. The distraction. The Hyur man jumps, startled out of his daze by the sound, and groans as he makes his way over, leaving the lantern behind. Suri can feel their heart-rate skyrocket.
It’s go time.
Peeking over their shoulder, they can see the man fully engrossed in whatever ruckus was currently going on in the cages. Not daring to waste any precious time, they swoop in, light on their feet, grabbing the lantern by its handle before darting back to their hiding spot. They conceal the glow radiating from it as best they can with their cloak as they make their way to the furthest corners of the storeroom. They’d use these lanterns often back in the Forgotten Springs, especially if one needed to spend any extended time away from the settlement at night for whatever reason. They open the ceruleum inlet. It’s decently full. Going against everything they were ever taught of these short-wick lamps, they begin dumping some of the fluid on a burlap sack positioned in the corner against the wall. They raise the chimney top and do their best to remove the globe carefully, grabbing from the rim to avoid any unnecessary burns to their fingers. With the flame now fully exposed, there was only one final step. They gently dab the flame against the spilled ceruleum, and, as expected, it ignites instantly. They discard the lantern nearby before returning to their place in the shadows, not even thinking about the fact that leaving it so close will surely cause an explosion at some point.
As the flames climb higher, so too does the amount of light it's putting out, not to mention the smoke beginning to billow and gather at the ceiling. It doesn’t take long for a few of the crew to notice, and as soon as they do, all hell breaks loose. It's all hands on deck as they try to quell the rising flames, a cacophony of frenzied orders being barked and frantic footfalls filling the room. Some, having given up on quashing the flames, have resorted to gathering the most valuable goods in order to bring them to safety.
The blazing light the flames were giving off was making it harder and harder to find dark recesses for Suri to hide in. They figured the best place for them to be is by the cages once more, to watch over V’kebbe’s progress in picking the lock, but little did they know: someone was expecting this. As they inch around a crate, an enormous hand snaps out, grasping at them, getting a fistful of their cloak. Startled, Suri whips back, able to quickly wrest themself free of their cape, stumbling backwards while doing so.
“I knew somethin’ reeked.” Lyngberk glowers, Suri’s cloak dangling from his white knuckle grip. He casts it aside with disdain. “You have no idea what you’ve done!” He bellows, the intensity of his voice making Suri’s hair stand on end. They unsheathe their dagger without a word, not taking their eyes off him. A ragged laugh escapes his lips. “Yer idea of a joke? That l’il toy?” He takes a step forward. Suri takes a step back.
“Captain?” A nearby crewmember says, eyeing the two of them.
“ Leave me! ” He barks, his words dripping with venom. “Focus on gettin’ the goods out. Go. Now! ” He pierces through Suri with his gaze once more. “I’m gonna have my fun. And I won’t even need a weapon.”
He lunges at Suri, closing the distance between them with his impressive gait. Narrowly, they’re able to evade at the last second, clumsily crashing into a nearby crate. They push off it with a flat palm, giving them some momentum, which they use to put a bit more distance between the two of them once more.
“I'll see to it that you never leave this buildin’ alive, you miserable whelp.” Lyngberk growls, circling them.
The room was beginning to feel unbearably hot. Sweat drips from Suri’s scalp, stinging their eyes. Their best bet would be to keep away from him. To run. There’s no winning this fight, and they know it. But they aren't sure if V’kebbe has made it out yet, and drawing this man's ire might spare them any further delay.
They dart close to him, using similar techniques as those used during hunts in their tribe, trying to feel out his range. He swings his fist towards them, his sheer size making his movements feel sluggish to Suri, but no less dangerous. They’re able to evade, their only asset being that they're small and fast, though they themself don't realize what a boon that is in this situation. Lyngberk roars in frustration, his impatience pushing him to end this ordeal sooner rather than later after all. He rushes forward, drawing steel. So much for not needing a weapon. Turning tail and running, Suri attempts to lure him away from the cages and deeper into the burning building, which turns out to be more of an inconvenience only for them. The smoke clouding the area provides cover, yes, but in the same vein, makes it harder for Suri to plot routes and watch for his movements.
Lyngberk, unfortunately, has seen many battles in his time. At a time like this, he's aware that his best bet is to stand still as a mountain, to blend in with his surroundings and not stir the smoke. Not daring to go too far into the burning building, he presses himself against a crate and waits. They may have found some way in, but now? There was only one way out.
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Suri feels their way around blindly, attempting to suppress their coughs as they dart their eyes around the area wildly, searching for Lyngberk’s silhouette. They thought he'd be right behind them, but at some point, he seems to have tapered off, leaving them feeling unsafe from every angle. He could be anywhere now. Suddenly, a thought occurs to them that makes their blood run cold. What if he gave up the chase and went to go tie the prisoners? What if his men had already secured them because they took too long to free themself? They haven’t seen any of the Wolfram crew in a bit. Biting their lip, Suri kneels, attempting to get below the smoke level, feeling weak from lack of oxygen.
“I have to get back to her…” Dragging themself to their feet, they hurry on, doing their best to watch for Lyngberk's figure cutting through the smoke, dodging and weaving through all manner of debris and spilled objects across the floor. Rounding a crate, they narrowly miss tripping over what almost looked like… a large black boot?
Suri’s eyes widen. By the time they try to back peddle, it's too late. A colossal hand darts down, gripping them with force by their hair, dragging them kicking into the air. Still armed with their dagger, they drive it as hard as they can into the fleshy part of Lyngberk’s bicep, eliciting a throaty guttural roar from the man. He drops them, and before they can react, knocks them flying with a decisive boot to their chest.
The force of his kick was enough to make Suri roll a few times before unceremoniously slamming into a far-off crate with a thud. Slumping onto their palms, they wheeze and gasp for air, every breath causing searing pain to course through their entire torso. They can't breathe. They can hardly move. Attempting to do so only sees them wobbling and collapsing again, every ragged cough and gasp for air making them feel as though their chest is about to cave in. It's over.
Suri watches through hazy eyes as Lyngberk looms ever closer, and as he draws near, a figure darts out of the smoke, swinging down a burning piece of wood. He side steps the would-be sneak attack, doubling back to face his assailant.
“Run! Please !” V’kebbe cries out to Suri, her voice haggard.
Lyngberk chortles, “I'm a bit busy, kitten.” His tone icy. V’kebbe jabs at him once more, aiming for his still-bleeding arm, but he easily catches the burning plank in his hand, seemingly unphased by the pain it must be causing. V’kebbe grunts as she tries to wrest it free from his grasp. He uses this opportunity to yank her closer, grinning all the while as he strikes her violently across her face with the back of his hand, sending her toppling backwards. Suri attempts to cry out in anger, but their chest and throat burn too much to produce any other sound other than a pathetic wheeze. “I’ll deal with you later.” Turning away from V'kebbe's fallen form, he begins his advance towards Suri once more. “In the meantime, ye can watch the life leave this one's eyes with me.”
“ Please… ” V’kebbe’s voice is barely audible.
“Stuck me good, didn't ye?” He glowers down at Suri as they struggle to drag themself away from him. Using his boot, he pins their arm to the ground, the sheer size of it enough to eclipse their forearm entirely. “Let's make it even, shall we?” He pokes his sword into their bicep, softly at first, only enough to barely break the skin. Suri claws at his boot desperately, already losing sensation in their hand.
If it's one thing about Lyngberk, it's that he's always had this insatiable desire to play with his food. Fortunately for Suri, this penchant for dragging things out might be the only reason they lived to tell this tale.
He bears down suddenly, driving his sword deep into Suri’s arm.
Suri sees stars as a mangled scream escapes them, the white hot agony that racks their chest only serving to amplify their pain tenfold. There's a sound like sobbing somewhere, they think. They can hardly hear past the throbbing in their head at this point.
Once again, Lyngberk grabs Suri--this time by their throat--and hoists them into the air. “Are ye watchin’, lassie? Blink and ye might miss it!” He gradually begins to tighten his grasp. Suri claws at his arm, weakly kicking at his chest to no avail. Their vision blurs, their limbs going limp.
They can feel the life slipping out of them. A sound, like a drum, growing fainter and fainter, a flash of an endless blue sky, a sea of glittering gold, and warmth. Such warmth.
They thought they could leave it behind as easily as it had left them behind; as it had shunned them and ostracized them for something they were born with, for something they had no control over. But here, at the end of their life, despite everything, was the truth of their heart: a desert and a sky. Home.
A place of extremes, of blistering heat and of bone-chilling cold, a desolate wasteland of naught but arid death to all those that do not care to peer just beneath the surface at the unbridled beauty of the many creatures that have learned to adapt and survive in such an inhospitable place.
However the dunes may change with time, the lesson it imparts remains the same: Adapt. Survive. Thrive. Such has been the way of it since they were born. Such is their way . How could they have tried to forget after all that it’s carried them through so far?
And then, the first clear thought they've had in ages.
I want to live.
A thunderous boom rips through the burning air.
Lyngberk doesn't even have time to make a sound. His grasp on Suri loosens--goes slack--and he falls away, dropping Suri as he does, who lands in a motionless heap on the floor. A young man with fierce blue eyes and chestnut hair emerges from the smoke, flintlock blunderbuss still emitting smoke from its freshly used barrel. “Search for any stragglers!” He yells before he dives down on his knees before Suri's unconscious body.
“V’kebbe!” The young man shouts over his shoulder, “Can ye walk?”
“Jacke ,” She responds, voice still thick with emotion as she crawls towards him, “Jacke, I'll be fine, please… please just help the kid!”
“On it!” He replies, already stowing his weapon and looking Suri over. They're quite small for a miqo’te 16 summers old, malnourished looking, and badly bleeding; their short jet black hair soaked with sweat and blood. Upon noticing the blood streaming from their nose, he quickly rolls them on their side and feels for a pulse. Barely there and on top of that, barely breathing. V’kebbe manages to make her way over, a hand covering the right side of her face, which was already massively swollen and bruised. “Gods…” Jacke hisses under his breath. “Swivin’ bastard deserved more than what he got…” He gets to work scooping the small miqo’te into his arms, securing them with a hand behind their back with the other under their knees, holding them close to his chest. Without any time to waste, he sets off out of the burning building, V’kebbe trailing closely behind.
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The vibration of drums interspersed with laughter and cheering reverberates throughout the otherwise silent dunes of the Sagolii desert tonight. Dancers join hands before a great bonfire, its warm fiery glow casting long shadows; those shadows swing around energetically, their quick footwork keeping on pace with the tempo of the resounding drumbeat. Tonight’s revelry is a celebration--the U tribe’s recent hunt was a successful one. The body of a drake, a beast they derive their tribe name from, lays at the heart of the settlement, yet to be harvested for its meat. The dance and song and festivities are to celebrate its life, to thank its spirit for its continued protection of their tribe, and to give thanks so that its soul may pass on peacefully and return to the lifestream, eventually rejoining this world anew.
Suri sways to the beat, their bare feet tapping against the cool stone of the main plaza, the infectious energy filling them with excitement. Nights like these were their favorite. Dancing to stave off the biting chill of the desert night, with the promise of a tasty meal at the end. Dance partners are shuffled off at random, joining hands at will with whoever they happen to run into, and before Suri knows it, they’re whisked away to join in the innermost circle of dancers.
“U’suri!” U’lohma calls out as she hooks her arm into theirs. Suri is often put in the same hunting group as her, but for some reason, her face doesn’t look quite right. “Where’ve you been!”
Suri furrows their brow, keeping on pace with her movements, “Just over there. I’ve been there all night. Haven’t I?” Suddenly unsure, they struggle to remember what they were doing before this.
She hums thoughtfully. “Are you sure ? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages…” She replies, just as confused.
Suri wracks their brain, continuing with their dance all the while. A memory resurfaces. “Wait, I was with you earlier… We went to the spring to fetch water. You, me, and U’soona. You were telling us about the bow you were making in secret for…” Suri trails off at U’lohma’s cold expression.
“But, you weren’t there… I know you weren’t.” Her voice warbles, sounding near and far all at once. She stops dancing. “ How did you know about that?”
Dread pools in Suri’s stomach as they cover their mouth. Normally, they’re much more careful with what they share, owing to the fact that it has only become harder and harder for them to distinguish between what was a ‘vision’ and what wasn’t. They thought if they could just do as their father said, to keep it all to themself, everyone would think their curse went away, and that they were cured. But they’ve messed up. Again. They feel sick, like a disgusting wet mass has been exposed within them; a wound reopening. They open their mouth in an attempt to reply, but get interrupted by their wrist being taken in someone’s hand.
“Wanna dance with me?” Says a familiar miqo’te girl with red hair and striking violet eyes.
“V’kebbe? But…” Suri glances back towards U’lohma, only to find that she isn’t standing there anymore.
V’kebbe, not waiting for an answer, pulls Suri into her arms, her dance style unfamiliar to them. They struggle to keep up with her strange movements, but they’re clumsy, uncoordinated, stepping on her toes at every turn. They gaze up at her, afraid of her reaction to their incompetence, but to their surprise, she’s just smiling and smiling. It makes them want to smile, too. So they do. V’kebbe takes Suri’s hands in hers and begins to spin, around and around, until they’re both laughing, breathless. They continue on like this by the warmth of the firelight, in their own world, untouchable, the frivolity of it all feeling almost intoxicating.
Slowing to a stop, V’kebbe grins, warm light cradling her features softly. “I want to show you something.” She murmurs. “Come with me.” She holds Suri’s hand gently, pulling them away from the main plaza and the noise, and towards a great stone door that they’ve never seen before in their village. It stands ajar, the faint glow of azure light escaping its edges. “It’s just on the other side. I’ll go first!” She says, releasing Suri’s hand. Without another word, she steps through, her entire figure disappearing beyond the unknown. Suri, not wanting to be left behind, follows suit, but freezes right before the threshold.
Something about the finality of this impending action gives them pause, a lump forming in their throat. An unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air around them, something they’ve known all along:
There's no going back after this.
They look over their shoulder, back at the plaza, the sound of lighthearted shouts echoing off the walls of the desert canyon feeling so far away. They take in the sight of the joyous dancers swaying energetically before the great bonfire, their eyes trace the shapes of the curved stone bridges with all of their wonderfully shaped cracks and linger on the brightly colored tapestries hanging outside of the domiciles; just trying to focus on all the little details that they’ll surely forget through the years.
Finally, their eyes fix on him. U’tchalho Nunh, their father, his back facing them as he gestures enthusiastically to a group of tribe members, speaking in that animated way that he always did. They hesitate, trying to burn that silhouette into their memory, desperately hoping that, for once, he’ll turn. That he’ll really look. But, he never does.
It’s time to go.
With their head held high, they press on through the hazy cerulean light, through that stony archway, and into the unknown without a second backwards glance.
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As soon as Suri’s eyes flutter open, they notice a few things: that they’re in a bed for once, that there’s actually a roof over their head, and that everything hurts so bad. Their head is bandaged around their forehead, down below their chin with even more dressings on their arm, neck and chest. They blink a few times, but even that is somehow painful. Turning their head a little to try and figure out where they are, they end up making eye contact with V’kebbe, who stares back, wide eyed, mouth open.
She jolts up out of her nearby chair with such force that it falls over backwards with a loud thud, making Suri wince. “Awake? You’re awake!” She turns her head and shouts, “Jacke! Get in here!” She kneels beside Suri’s bed, peering into their face, a bit too close for comfort. Her own face is still swollen, complete with a prominent puffy black eye. Suri furrows their brows at the sight, not even fully realizing how much worse they look in comparison. “I’m so glad…” She murmurs as she smiles tearfully.
Immediately, there's the sound of heavy footfalls against wood followed shortly by Jacke bursting into the room looking frazzled. When he sees Suri is awake, he sighs in relief and shoots V’kebbe a scathing look. “Couldn’t ya have shouted somethin’ more like, ‘ Yippee !’, or ‘ They're alive !’? Good gods. I thought somethin’ bad happened.” V’kebbe simpers at him and sticks her tongue out in a mock apology, righting her chair and sitting back in it. He turns his attention to Suri, “Welcome back to the realm o’ the livin', kid. Names’ Jacke. Jacke Swallow.” He drags a chair across the floor behind him as he makes his way closer before plopping down. “Are ya all there? Can ya see us okay?”
Suri tries to answer, but all they can muster is a raspy unintelligible whisper. They scrunch their face up. It feels like they have sand in their throat.
Jacke clicks his tongue while V’kebbe rests her hand on their leg over the covers. “Scratch that.” He says, furrowing his brows, “That bloody cad Lyngberk did a number on yer throat. Might be a stretch ‘til ye can speak.” He flashes them a sly smile. “Though, I'm told ye weren't much fer mincin’ words to begin with.”
Suri glances at V’kebbe.
V’kebbe furrows her brow in response. “What's that look for!” She exclaims, folding her arms, tone playful. “You never even told me your name! ”
Suri darts their eyes away, thinking back, pensive. Wow. They really didn't.
“Which is why,” Jacke butts in, “I'm gonna be givin’ ya a nickname fer the time bein’.” He sounds excited.
V’kebbe rolls her eyes. “You and your godsdamned nicknames .”
“Hey now! I think I'm pretty good at pickin’ ‘em!”
V’kebbe leans towards Suri and mutters, “This guy started calling me ‘The Stray’ and it stuck before I even had a chance to put a stop to it. Isn't that nice ?” She side-eyes Jacke and shakes her head.
“ Anyroad,” Jacke begins, knocking his knee into V’kebbe’s, “Goin’ off everythin’ Kebbe has told me, I've been doin’ some thinkin’ and came up with...” He strokes his chin thoughtfully before enunciating his next phrase. “ Swiftclaw .”
Suri tilts their head inquisitively.
V’kebbe’s soft laughter rings out. “The look on your face, Jacke! You're real proud of that one, eh?”
“Oh, come off it.” He says laughing with her. “Look kid, once yer voice comes back, you can tell me in yer own words whatcha think. If ya actually like Swiftclaw, I promise I won't get a big head up ‘bout it.” He says with a wink. “Now. Let's catch ya up to speed, shall we?”
According to Jacke, Lyngberk was an infamous man that had been on the Rogues’ Guild’s radar for a long while. Known primarily for his past as a hard-up drayman turned pirate, he quickly rose through the ranks in part due to his boundless knowledge of trade routes and his propensity for business. Once becoming a captain of his own ship in the Wolfram Pirates, he became obsessed with the power he had over people, and would only become crueler and crueler with time. A timeless tale of rags to riches gone terribly wrong. V’kebbe just happened to have spotted him at the wharf during a shopping trip and dropped everything to shadow him. That’s when she spotted Suri’s pickpocketing moment and subsequent chase. When V’kebbe didn’t return from her trip coupled with the line Renard sent about her predicament, they immediately mobilized, but had to exercise caution, as many of their Guild were split off on business elsewhere. By the time they had sussed out the location of the storehouse and were fully set up for their clandestine operation, it was up in smoke in the distance.
“Goin’ in by yerself has gotta be the most reckless thing I’ve ever heard, not to mention takin’ on a blighted cove like Lyngberk with jus’ a dagger .” Jacke says, his tone serious. “But.” He spares a glance towards V’kebbe, who smiles back at him. “Yer gambit really helped us out. Lyngberk would sooner kill his prisoners outta spite than go down. You helped save a lotta lives.”
Suri’s gaze fixes on the wooden ceiling above, unable to look at either of them, feeling sheepish at even the slightest perceived praise.
“The Rogues’ Guild could always use more folks like you.” Jacke continues, “I’ll take you under my wing personally, given you wanna stick ‘round these parts a while longer after you recover.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a square piece of vibrant green fabric. He places it gently beside them on their bed. “We’d love to have ya. There’s always a place fer you ‘ere, Swiftclaw.”
A place for you. They close their eyes softly, suddenly taken with the overwhelming urge to cry.
A chance to belong, to start over. Perhaps, with time, they’ll begin to feel worthy of the kindness they receive. For a mercy, they're willing to give themself the opportunity to try, even if it means they might disappoint people with their shortcomings along the way. With any luck, they might even uncover information regarding their strange power at some point, too.
Adapt, survive, thrive. That is the way of their heart. That is what they’ll carry with them as they make their home anew, again and again.
“Going back to sleep? Maybe we should-” V’kebbe begins to say, but she’s cut short by the sight of Suri opening their eyes and looking back at her, a slight smile on their face; something that she hasn’t seen them do once since she’s met them. Their hand, poking free from its place under the covers, rests gently on top of the green bandana offered to them. Her heart swells.
“Heh, y’didn’t hafta answer so soon.” Jacke says, grinning from ear to ear, wiping at his nose. Lifting himself from his chair, he tousles their hair a bit before setting off, “I’m gonna go fetch ya somethin’ to eat. Come help me carry, Kebbe.” She gets up and tousles Suri’s hair as well, for good measure. They sink into their pillow a bit at the contact, face feeling hot. Jacke lets V’kebbe by, but lingers in the doorway for a moment. “And, one more thing,” He says.
“Welcome to the Rogues’ Guild, Swiftclaw.”
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