Chapter Text
When Alisaie received the vague, cryptic letter inviting her to the Black Brush Station, the thing that most surprised her was how unsurprised she was.
She’d overheard snippets of its intention, after all. How their Warrior had enlisted a few “friends” - lowdown thieves or rogues, rumor had it - requesting their services to find something or someone, discreetly. This seemed so outlandishly opposite of what her Jocelyn would be doing that it made a lasting impression in her mind, refusing to quit nagging her until the truth was revealed.
Alisaie had chanced to confirm those rumors with her own eyes shortly after - seeing Jocelyn slip into a shadowy corner of Mor Dhona’s grey stone buildings, meeting a group of three - a Hyur, a Miqo’te and a Lalafell. Hushed words were exchanged, too low for her to make out. She watched the Warrior press a purse into the tallest one’s hands, but they shoved it back, vehemently shaking their head and grinning.
It didn’t take long - more than a moon or two - for them to return, holding a rough, crudely drawn map with a marked location on it. It looked nothing more than a basic treasure map - one that looked specifically made to draw in looters thirsting after a quick buck. Judging by the way Alisaie saw Jocelyn wearing the floorboards of the Rising Stones thin with her anxious pacing, it was anything but.
It was something important to her. That much was obvious.
It didn’t excuse the fact that she was late for their agreed time - and that it was scorching hot. What meager shelter the short buildings afforded did little to dull her annoyance as the searing Thanalan sun rose to its peak and began its descent, with the hot breeze being more of a hindrance as it blew dust and sand into her face. Having spent most of her time with Alphinaud in the polar opposite climes of Garlemald recently, Alisaie felt like a melting icicle as she fanned herself with her shirt and scowled at the sun with mounting frustration.
“Glaring at the sun isn’t good for you, you know. Even if you do worship Azeyma like our tribe does.” Alisaie’s ire was redirected from the glowing celestial entity overhead to the Warrior of Light that now stood before her, whose smile grew sheepish as she took in her heated expression.
“What kept you, Jocelyn?” She hadn’t meant such a blatant show of exasperation, but her Warrior’s proper name slipped from her mouth like a barbed knife - so different from the endearing names they would call each other by. Alisaie immediately regretted the tone of her words, but her indignance at being kept waiting under the unrelenting heat smothered her guilt and lessened its sting.
Jocelyn’s ears flattened as they were wont to do whenever she was admonished, and her guilty smile wilted apologetically as she gestured to herself and behind her. “I’m sorry, Ali. I had some extra preparations to see to. They took more time than I had expected.”
Alisaie strained her eyes against the sun’s rays. Contrary to herself, in her standard red cropped jacket and white undercoat, Jocelyn had elected to robe herself in a shabby, thin brown cloak that covered much of her body - much like a wanderer. A worn hood flapped in the minute breeze, which she flipped over her head. Its thinness provided miniscule protection against the wind, but it served to obscure her ears, hair and facial features - much like a certain Exarch had previously done.
The chocobo and the carriage hitched to its harness was also unfamiliar, instead of Jocelyn’s personal chocobo Nugget and her suit of custom-forged barding. These actions were so unlike her, so out of the ordinary combined with her recent behavior that Alisaie had to frown. “What exactly is troubling you recently, Josie?” she asked. “First the map, then the secretive invitation, now this? Is aught amiss?”
Jocelyn jerked, startled, before whatever features were visible under the cowl softened. She sighed and tossed the hood back, revealing her drooped ears once more. “I…suppose I wasn’t really hiding it from the Scions.” she muttered. “I wanted to look for someone, but my presence anywhere attracts attention - something I don’t want to bring them. So, I asked Jacke from the Rogue’s Guild to find them in my stead. We go back a while, and I trust his discretion.”
“I…I see.” A rogue would indeed be able to slip in and out of the shadows unnoticed to gather the information needed. Alisaie couldn’t deny her curiosity had been piqued. “Hence the cloak and rented chocobo. Might I presume we’re visiting them, then?”
“If you aren’t adverse to joining a wanderer on her travels, that is.” Jocelyn put two fingers to her mouth and whistled, and their chocobo obediently trotted over with carriage in tow. Though her mount was unfamiliar, she vaulted onto the saddle with ease and extended a helping hand. A hand that she’d taken many a time, a hand that led her on adventures that she could have never dreamt of. It seemed this time would be no exception. “So, will you come with me?”
Alisaie took her hand, steady and gentle as it always was, and gave Jocelyn her most reassuring smile. “Anything to get out of this infernal heat.”
The road swiftly became little more than roughshod animal tracks, ringed on both sides by short, dense trees that did little in the way of shelter of the sun bearing down relentlessly over their head. To her relief, the small carriage hitched to their chocobo came with a roof. Alisaie huddled under it gratefully, sipping from the waterskin she’d brought with her.
Riding the chocobo, Jocelyn had no such luck. Thin hood over her head once more, she kept alternating glances between the uneven path and her equally roughly drawn map. Alisaie felt a pang of guilt for leaving her to shoulder both navigation and guiding their chocobo alike, but reasoned she wasn’t as adept at the reins as Jocelyn was. Besides, she looked far more tolerant of the heat than the Elezen was, with nary a complaint to be heard, like she’d been born in this type of climate. Silently, and not for the first time, Alisaie envied her Warrior’s tenacity - her ability to endure such a wide range of hardships and come out seemingly unfazed.
The uninhabited, sprawling reaches of Thanalan had a certain rustic charm to them. Untouched by civilization, its vegetation and wildlife were allowed to grow free, a canvas of nature with its own undeniable beauty, defiant of the desert’s harsh climes. Even this far out, the corrupted crystalline aether of the Burning Wall jutted over the trees, bolts of orange lightning that brought back bittersweet memories of their first adventure into the coils of Dalamud. Her thoughts were naturally drawn to those of her grandfather and the sacrifice he’d made to save the lives of so many, including her own family, safe in Old Sharlayan, and a wistful smile drifted to her face.
Through the haze of her memories, Alisaie realized the constant jolting of wheels over rocks was easing. The carriage trundled to a quiet halt just before a thick circle of trees that looked greener and healthier than the rest. Jocelyn hopped off the saddle, stretched lithely like a cat, and proffered her hand once again. “We walk from here,” she said. “It’s not far.”
Alisaie accepted her outstretched hand. Amidst her frustration at the heat and her curiosity about their journey, one missing detail nagged at her. “Who exactly are we visiting?” she pressed the Warrior, one brow raised in a questioning look.
Jocelyn glanced up at her. “You’ll see in a bit.” she said, but her words that were meant to reassure didn’t stop Alisaie silently noticing how her hand trembled in hers almost imperceptibly.
The sounds of their chocobo cheerfully kweh -ing was their only companion as they set off, having been tethered to a nearby tree and left a basket of lush gysahl greens and cool, fresh water. The taller trees provided better shade than the rest and brought them both some measure of relief, though it didn't escape Alisaie’s notice how Jocely’s hood had remained on even with nary another soul around. She seemed oddly tense, pushing onward with nary a word. Alisaie reached for her hand, brushed the surface of her skin with her thumb, felt how the tension hidden beneath the surface faded away at her touch, and smiled.
The foliage thinned noticeably and suddenly. Still under the shelter of the leaves overhead, they halted at the edge of a ring of trees that opened up into a large clearing. A small, quaint cottage nestled itself snugly with its door facing them, seemingly made mostly of wood with a roof lined with all manner of pelts and leather. To the left, rows upon rows of logs piled into a pyramid accompanied a small stone well, while to the right sat a wooden picnic table and bench, on which a small Miqo’te girl sat tinkering with something in their hands.
The door to the house was open. Even from a distance, Alisaie could hear something - a melody, perhaps, or a song - sung by a voice distinctly female. The sound was pleasant, evoking memories of times long past - of her mother, humming snippets of songs as she worked or lulling her to gentle slumber. It filled her with nostalgic warmth that rose in her chest and brought a smile to her face.
Besides her, Jocelyn froze abruptly. Alisaie felt her hand shake once more, tail flicking nervously and hair standing on end. She looked like she wanted to say something, but when her mouth opened nothing came out. The sight of the usually composed Warrior looked comical enough that Alisaie could have laughed.
That amusement quickly churned itself into a jumble of astonishment and disbelief as Jocelyn took a shaky step back . Eorzea’s champion, Hydaelyn’s chosen; the Warrior who had slain countless gods without so much as flinching - scared of a single child? It sounded laughable, seemed impossible - but her eyes didn’t deceive her.
Alisaie considered the situation before her with a frown for a moment, before taking matters into her own hands on impulse. She tugged Jocelyn forward, out of the cover of the shadows and into the light, which made her yelp and stumble. The loose hood slid off her head, revealing her panicked ears standing on full alert.
The sudden noise split the otherwise silent air like a bolt. The Miqo’te teen’s ears turned in their direction, followed by the rest of her. Her gaze met Alisaie’s first, and she thought she was staring back in time.
Jocelyn. No blow from a primal could have staggered Alisaie half as hard. “Josie?” she whispered. It was as if she was looking at a younger version of the Warrior, back when they first met in Gridania - similar enough that she had to glance behind her to reaffirm the truth.
It's not Jocelyn.
Alisaie had never seen her Warrior’s hair done any other way than short, and this girl’s hair was long - the same fiery red of Dalamud crimson, yes, but cascading past her shoulders in flowing waves. Jocelyn’s build concealed otherwise hidden muscle beneath long dresses, armor and plate, but this teen was small and lithe - nary any sign of continuous physical exertion visible on her shorter body. And though her eyes were that same deep amber that Alisaie had gazed into many a night, there was that hopeful shine, the innocence of youth that Jocelyn had lost long ago.
The girl seemed equally enraptured at the sight of her. “Woah…pretty…” she murmured, her voice hushed in awe. Then her eyes glanced to the side and widened. “Ma! Da! Look who’s here!” she yelled.
The singing halted, replaced by dainty footsteps on floorboards, each step in sync with her heartbeat. A lissom Miqo’te woman emerged from the doorway, blinking her eyes. A shimmer of smooth red hair fell across her petite shoulders and simple, thin blouse, hiding the straps of the apron dusted with splotches of flour and other unidentifiable substances from view.
“Who is it, Sena?” she called, raising her hand against the sun’s rays. Like her daughter, she too laid eyes on Alisaie first, for Jocelyn had partially retreated behind her, with only part of her upper body visible. “My, what a beautiful young woman! What brings you to this place? Are you lost?”
Before Alisaie could answer, the woman stopped dead. One trembling hand slowly rose to her mouth. “Oh. Oh, by Azeyma… Alia…Alia? Is that...is that you?”
“Alia? Who’s -“ Alisaie’s question was crushed the same way her hand suddenly was - caught in a painful grip, clutched like it was the only lifeline anchoring her to the world, gripped with such ferocity that she felt like her bones would snap at any moment.
“Ow! Josie, why’d you -”
She looked back. Jocelyn was trembling violently, a soft keening whine coming from her throat, tiny and desperate. She hadn’t looked this scared since the time her soul nearly shattered under the strain of the Light, and the mere sight of it scared Alisaie, too.
“What’s wrong, my dearheart?! Who are these people? Who’s Alia?!” Every muscle in Alisaie’s body screamed to rip the rapier from her belt, to protect Jocelyn from these strangers that seemed to be causing her so much stress. But somewhere, deep within her heart, the rational side of her pleaded for her to wait. Hold off on jumping into action for once. For Josie’s sake.
“‘Oi! What’s all this ruckus? Who’s there?” Another voice came from the house, deep and gruff. A broad-shouldered man with a shock of unkempt brown hair brushed across his brow ducked under the doorframe and instantly froze. Though they stood together, the man only had eyes for one of them.
“Alia?” His voice cracked with emotion. “My girl… is that truly you?”
One moment she was by her side, the next she was gone as Jocelyn barreled into the man so hard he nearly tore the sturdy wooden door off its hinges just to stay upright. She flew so fast, Alisaie could still see the tears suspended in the air before they fell to the ground, drip by drip.
Jocelyn buried her face in the man’s shirt and sobbed uncontrollably. “Mama, Papa,” she managed to choke out the muffled words, “I’m home.”
The air was filled with the gentle sound of joyous weeping.