Chapter Text
“Marques, I want you to look after Rahela. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father…”
The Lichkeeper Marques turned his head to meet his new charge; he was surprised to remember the face of a young miqo'te woman whom he’d met and briefly spoken with some time ago. He’d heard that Rahela was the adventurer who had exposed the false priest and stopped the murders and abductions from some moons ago; to the poor folk of Camp Drybone, she was something of a hero. But now, however, she seemed to be in a far worse state now than she was when they first met. Wringing her hands, face downcast and tear-stained, soaking wet from the pouring rain outside, and he noticed with some alarm that she smelled faintly of blood. He overheard her earlier conversing with Father Iliud moments before; the girl was wanted by the Garlean Empire and bore witness to some sort of atrocity at their hands and now had to seek sanctuary within the walls of the Church of Saint Adama Landama.
Marques would never dream of questioning Father Iliud or the charity he was so known for, but he could not help but feel somewhat puzzled with his choice. The girl needed shelter and comfort, but why entrust her to him? He did sympathize deeply with her, and it was true that he had seen more than his fair share of funerals, and Marques would regularly encounter at least a few mourners at each one. But he never reached out to any of them, and none of them ever reached out to him. He was well aware of his flaws, his reputation of ’preferring the company of the dead over the living,’ as Sister Ourcen once put it; ‘such behavior ill befits the church,’ she told him. And he didn’t argue with her, she was right. So why would anyone entrust him with the well-being of a grief-stricken fugitive from the Empire…?
But then Rahela glanced up at him, and the two locked eyes. Looking into them through the swollen redness, Marques immediately had the feeling that he'd seen that he'd seen that vivid teal somewhere long ago. The girl's eyes brought back memories of a dream, vague and half-forgotten. A dark night, a bright silhouette, a gift, and a good omen… Marques would latch onto anything that he thought might rekindle lost memories from before the Calamity; that was likely why building and repairing things was so calming for him. And for whatever reason, the sight of Rahela might have been doing the same thing.
Marques wasn’t at all sure what he could do for the grieving girl, but he would gladly do what he could. She just might somehow be able to provide the answers he was looking for…
-
Rahela watched the lichkeeper’s grey eyes briefly glaze over; she didn't understand why Minfilia would want her to come here. She believed Iliud when he said that he was a friend to the Scions, but what good would that do besides giving her a place to stay? The Garleans were probably still looking for the slayer of Ifrit and Titan, and she would most likely have to go into hiding now. But why here? It wasn’t as though they would care in the slightest if she claimed sanctuary. It didn't matter where she hid; if they found her here, or even had reason to believe she'd ever been here, they'd descend upon the church like birds of prey to drag her out and kill everyone inside. Just like they did in the Waking Sands. Those murderers didn’t care about anything, they held nothing sacred…
A dull throbbing in her temple made the young thaumaturge to wince in pain; her entire body ached all over. She didn’t want to think about Garleans or her options or why she was told to come here, she just wanted to lay down and sleep forever. No, that wasn’t it. What Rahela most fervently wished for was to be home in the Sands. Surrounded by her friends, jubilant and relieved, unscathed and unaffected, as they celebrated her victory over Titan with a feast in the Solar. She wished that none of this had happened. But it did, and she couldn’t stop it. For all her feats of strength and perseverance, there was nothing she could do; couldn’t do anything but watch the bloodbath through the Echo. Couldn’t save her allies from being murdered. Couldn’t save the friends that were captured and in the hands of the Empire; Urianger, Tataru, Papalymo, Minfilia, the lattermost almost certainly being tortured by that white-armored viper at this very moment. Couldn’t even contact or search for the Scions that she didn’t see in the vision, and thus might have escaped; Y'shtola, Yda, Thancred …
She wrung her hands even tighter, and yet another wave of overwhelming hopelessness and despair washed over her. It was all just too much to bear. Breathing becoming ragged, body cringing and quaking, she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a fresh stream of tears, feeling a desperate urge to hug or hold on to someone, anyone . The last thing she’d held had died in her arms. Without a word, she bowed her head and leaned forward, burying her face into Marques' shoulder. The man tensed, almost recoiling away from her, having no idea how to respond; paying no notice, Rahela slowly lifted her hands, taking two fistfuls of the man’s cowl, and pulled him even closer. More tears leaked from her eyes, and he could feel her being wracked by loud, pained sobs.
Rahela was beyond consoling; the carnage she witnessed in the Sands would be seared into her mind forever. Livia sas Junius and the XIVth legion, they had raided the building looking for her. The fear and loneliness had numbed her to everything else; after all that happened, the only thing she could do was weep at her own helplessness.
But just as the sobbing began to border on hysterical, Marques’ strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a hug. He didn’t tell her not to cry; he let her bawl into his shoulder, but held her tightly, rocking her back and forth, his hand hesitating for a moment, before gently stroking the back of her head. It was a small gesture and he was unsure if it would prove to be of any real comfort, but it seemed to be working. After a few moments, Rahela managed to calm down to a degree, but one could still hear her whimpering and sniffling. She’d be doing much of that over the next few days, as matters would only worsen. And the amnesiac lichkeeper would prove to be one of her few sources of companionship. The adventurer would be pushed to her emotional limits, but she knew she couldn't give up. Maybe Yda, Y’shtola, or Thancred, or all three of them would come looking for her, or maybe she’d find a lead on their whereabouts. If she just held on, she’d be able to get her family back. Or at least, that was the only hope she could hold onto. The only thing she could do for now was survive…