Work Text:
‘The match has been decided,’ Metem yelled into the mic. ‘Victory goes to the Azure Dragoon, Estinien Varlineau!’
Antarcticite watched as, on the screens outside the Arcadia building, the panting Tyrant bowed his bloodied head to the victor.
It’s nothing like what it’s going to feel and look like when I beat the Tyrant, she thought. After all, it was only an exhibition match meant to draw to Alexandria the fans of this so-called “Azure Dragoon” from neighbouring Shaaloani.
When my turn comes, it’ll be for the Heavyweight championship title!
For many years, Antarcticite had been told by her mother that she needed to make something of herself. It was an inherited concern, borne over generations of unfulfilled Eldites.
No admonishments about propriety could stifle her love for the Ascension Arcadia Championship. However, the warnings from her acquaintances about the dangers of using beast souls had stuck with her. It had come as a relief when the rules were changed and beast souls were removed from the system.
It’s true that they felt much larger than life when they used to fight with beast souls, but… You don’t need to transform to make an impact on others. Antarcticite knew this well, for the figure of her great-great–great-grandmother still haunted her entire family.
The masses surrounding her outside the Ascension building, or the “Arcadion” as most fans called it when feverishly discussing the battles, were anything but quiet. The popularity of the Tyrant was at an all-time high despite his defeat by the unenhanced champion. The blue, yellow and red-striped jackets of the citizens, who were lined up for a glimpse of the fighters, struck a familiar contrast against the violet cityscape. As usual, some of the wildest fans smelled just as bad as wild animals, so the plaza’s conditioned air had an undercurrent of sweat to it, but it did not bother her.
I’m not here to obsess over the fighters like you lot. I’m here to make my mark.
When the doors opened and the two contestants exited the building, the crowd erupted into booing and cheers. Antarcticite clenched her fists, feeling the calluses from spear training pulse red-hot pain into her hands, screaming at her to stay focused.
Onwards the Tyrant strutted through the parted crowd, confident despite his loss. She watched on, waiting for the right moment when he would cross in front of her spot. His opponent, some spear-wielder from beyond the dome that she could not care less about, seemed just as unaffected and disinterested. Had he been a permanent addition to the roster, she might have afforded him more than a glance.
When the Tyrant had moved close enough to her, Antarcticite seized her chance. She shoved the frontline spectators aside, forced her way past the guard and blocked the Tyrant’s path. As if punching the air, she extended his arm towards him.
‘You.’ The Tyrant's purplish eyes matched her gaze with a withering glare. ‘I told you before, child. I do not give autographs.’
She knew he did not see her, did not see the ice-cold glare of an white-haired Eldite youth, her jacket emblazoned with the Tritails Training logo. He saw a nuisance.
‘I’m not here for an autograph.’ Not anymore. She thought she would have to drum up the confidence, but it was bubbling up within her. From her closed fist, she extended an index finger, pointing and challenging. ‘Remember my name: Lady of Oblivion! I’m the one who’s going to take you down!’
‘Lady of Oblivion?’ The Tyrant scoffed and strutted past her as one did when circling a lamp post.
As much as she wanted to deny it, the reaction hurt, but she could tell that the crowd had taken notice.
The Dragoon had paused to study her with widened eyes. What’s his deal?
With a deep inhale, she filled her chest to make herself larger in the shadow of the Tyrant, and departed the Arcadion plaza towards the east side of the Recreation Zone. Her lunch break was over, and there was more training to complete.
The Tritails Training gym had been a great find.
Yaana and her sisters were very accommodating trainers, despite the fact that they were ostensibly helping to prepare a fellow competitor in the Arcadion. She saw them all as stepping stones to reach the title of champion, but they never seemed to mind her ambition.
It was true that Antarcticite paid a membership fee to use the gym, and judging by how few other people she saw using the facilities, they probably needed her support.
Outside of more general muscle and endurance training (which Yaana could not live without and Eutrope was skeptical of) or electrope learnings (which Eutrope doled out freely and Yaana fell asleep during), Antarcticite could not rely on the sisters to train her with her weapon of choice. Yaana enjoyed punching things; Eutrope regularly electrocuted them.
Neyuni, the younger sister, was a wellspring of knowledge that made Antarcticite feel like she was the preteen and Neyuni was the 16-year-old. She usually steered clear of the bright-eyed prodigy. The child's not a fighter anyroad.
For the spear training, they had brought in a friendly acquaintance to help. Antarcticite was no fan of Honey B. Lovely’s broadcasts or singing, but she knew her prowess with the spear to be real. For a good while, the woman had been the only enhanced fighter to wield it. Although she had retired and she had only fought in the Lightweight division, Antarcticite swore to take everything she would offer her, chew it and make it her own.
It did not hurt that they shared common enemies of a sort. Even after retiring, Honey’s heated relationship with Vamp Fatale remained the subject of much discussion, and the Sweet Poison of the Arcadion had never gotten along with the Tyrant either. As he and Vamp were Heavyweight fighters and Eldites like Antarcticite, they would be the first targets she would have to overcome to leave an impression on viewers.
That was why it always annoyed her so deeply when the rising superstar failed to make their scheduled training bouts. I know the firm-footed posture, I know the lunge. The long strike, the passing strike, the shuttle strike — I’m tired of repeating them alone. I need practice. I need a real sparring partner. One who shows up!
‘Sorry, Antarc,’ Yaana said with an embarrassed smile. She scratched her ruffled mop of blue-accented, pink hair as she spoke. ‘Honey had a sudden invitation for a gig. You know how it goes.’
‘I know,’ Antarcticite replied without pausing her bicep curls. Four… Five… Six…
Her water bottle, complete with electrope filtering, rested on the floor next to her chair. Eutrope had not come to the gym that day yet, but Neyuni was quietly working at her computer as usual despite the distraction of their workouts.
Ten… Eleven… Twelve… Antarcticite’s eyes darted over to the gym’s resident little sister. Yaana’s so reckless, yet Neyuni still manages to study and live like this. Good for me, though, since I can make noise too.
‘Actually, though, I was wondering if you’d be open to sparring with a different partner for a change of pace?’
‘What?’ Just in time, Antarcticite finished her curls and set down the weights, wiping her brow with the towel she kept around her neck. ‘Who?’
Did they get one of the other retirees?
Yaana narrowed her eyes. ‘Do you remember that man who came to Solution Nine for an exhibition match the other day?’
‘Yes. Uhm, the Dragoon, right?’
‘Estinien Varlineau is his name. Well, I thought he could be an interesting person to learn from, seeing as he beat the Tyrant and all.’
That just means people will compare me to him instead, Antarcticite thought, but she held the frown inside. No. I’ll make it all mine. I’ll rise above.
‘I spoke with Metem, and he told me that Estinien was still in town. He’s apparently quite hard to track down, but Metem managed it!’
‘...Sure.’
‘I’ll go ahead and let them know, then,’ Yaana replied with a nod before tapping the linkpearl on her ear.
Going down on the mat and starting her lying tricep curls, Antarcticite pondered between heaves. How bad could it be, really? I bet he’s not even that strong. Those exhibition matches looked rigged.
Estinien turned out to be a man with far too much time on his hands. The next morning, Antarcticite found waiting in front of the gym before she had even arrived, and she prided herself on starting her workouts early in the day. Does he sleep?
He had been leaning against the wall of the gym with his arms crossed. His attire, like in the day of his match in the Arcadion, was a full set of dark mail, gauntlets, brais and greaves that only an outsider would bring to Solution Nine. All of it, including his wing-tipped spear, seemed to give the impression it had been bathed in centuries-old blood. And yet, it was sufficiently clean and scentless for her eyes and ears.
‘So, you’re Antarcticite,’ his gruff voice offered by way of a greeting when she drew near. ‘Lady of Oblivion’.
I have to get used to this, she thought as she attempted to control the heat climbing her neck. I knew it would happen once I said it out loud — once I challenged the Tyrant in public. ‘Yes, I am. And you’re Estinien?’
‘Aye.’
‘Ready to spar?’
He uncrossed his arms. ‘Always.’
A man of few words. She smiled and lifted her badge to the sensor of the gym’s doors. Good.
She had come already wearing sparring gear underneath her jacket and baggy pants. Before long, the two were in the sparring zone, spears in hand.
I’ll take it slow. Pretend I don’t know much, and see how he reacts, she decided. Then I can catch him off-guard and push his limits.
While she executed the most basic of maneuvers and Estinien deflected them like one would wave open a door, he began to pepper her with questions.
‘How do you, or your family, feel about dragons?’ He performed a mock-thrust that she pushed away.
What an odd question… Did he look me up? ‘You mean wurms?’
Before her own thrust, he dodged to the side nonchalantly. ‘Wyrms, aye.’
‘Well…’ She spun and attempted a fancy, if pointless, swipe. Her electrope spear clanged against his metal one. ‘Do you know my family?’
He shoved her back without moving his feet. ‘Should I?’
I guess not. ‘No. Well, it depends on who you ask. My mother would disagree.’
He said nothing and stood still, awaiting her next move.
Enough playing. She decided to wind up and attempt a true thrust towards him. ‘My family is—’
He stopped her thrust with his gauntleted hand. That easy, huh?
‘My family’s been associated with the lindwurm, or used to be, for ages. You may’ve heard what happened with the President of the Arcadion.’
Estinien shrugged.
‘Well, even if not,’ she continued after clearing her throat. She then pivoted into another spear-tip swing, which he deflected. ‘The President may have been the one with a lindwurm egg, but we know as much about lindwurms as we do because of my great-great-great-grandmother.’
With a rotation of his spear, Estinien warded against her next attack with little effort. ‘Who was she?’
‘She was a big name researcher from Lindblum. She helped people to understand the wurms and view them in a new light.’ Another thrust of hers met his spear and made far more noise due to the metal material than if it had been made of electrope. ‘They were thought to be extinct by then, but she still managed to discover lots of new things about them.’
And from that point since, every descendant has either tried to outgrow her fame or escape her shadow.
‘What was her name?’
‘Ysaebellite, I think,’ Antarcticite said after pausing for a second. ‘Same name as a mineral,’ she added, in case he was that ignorant of modern Alexandrian naming schemes.
‘A mineral that itself was named after a famous geologist from older times, Ysael,’ Neyuni added with a chipper voice.
Only did then the two of them notice that the young girl had been watching their match. Behind Neyuni, her computer screen showed articles and images of minerals.
‘Ysaebellite, was it?’ Estinien chuckled. ‘Close enough, I suppose.’
What does he mean by that? Antarcticite could not help but narrow her eyes.
‘Look, girl—’
‘Antarcticite,’ she interrupted Estinien. ‘Or Antarc, for short.’
‘Look, Antarcticite, I can tell that you're not showing your hand here.’ He gestured to the gym. ‘And this isn't the right place to spar in earnest.’
‘What do you mean? It’s one of the best gyms in the Recreation Zone.’ I mean, I hope it is. Maybe I should go look for a different one?
‘It’s acceptable for training, and I won’t judge your Alexandrian practices. But if you want to learn from me, it'll be out there,’ he said, and pointed in some utterly clueless fashion. ‘Outside the Everkeep, in battle.’
‘Oh.’ She swallowed. ‘You want to go hunting beasts?’ Mother never allowed me to, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. And he seems more than strong enough for anything.
‘Might as well.’
She glanced over at Yaana, who had also been following the exchange and nodded encouragingly, then signed with her hands “I’ll follow the two of you”.
‘Alright,’ Antarcticite replied. ‘Lead the way!’
Together the trio pathed through the wide, neon-flashing streets of the Recreation Zone of Solution Nine, weapons sheathed. She and Yaana took the teleporters to Scanning Port Nine, where Turali newcomers were always streaming forward with their manicoloured robes and adornments. Estinien instead leapt across the gap between platforms. While pointless flashy, Antarcticite could not help being impressed by his physical condition.
Her boots were as comfortable on the black and purple pavement as Estinien’s greaves were noisy. His white-haired ponytail swayed gently in a way that made her imagine her own whitish ponytail doing the same. I’d rather cut my hair short, but… I feel like it would fit the image of a Lady of Oblivion better if I kept it longer.
When they departed the gates of the Everkeep and started down the bridge to Heritage Found, Estinien raised his voice: ‘So, Lady of Oblivion…’
‘Why do you keep saying it like that?’
The subtlest of brow furrowings took place in his face. ‘Like what?’
‘Like it’s… I don’t know, a bizarre name.’
‘Well, that would be because it's a bizarre name,’ he replied with a small, cheeky smile. ‘And it reminds me of someone I once knew.’
Antarcticite frowned and steeled herself. This is going to happen more often too, once I start fighting. I just have to get used to it.
The skies were a homely nebulous swirl of lightning and smoke. Although Antarcticite had been to the outside of the dome already, the thunderous heavens were still the landscape of her heart. The glaring sun and dim nights of Shaaloani had frustrated and befuddled her in equal measure.
‘So, Estinien, you’re an Eldite from outside the dome, right?’ She slid her eyes over his long ears and pointy nose.
He nodded. ‘An Elezen. From Ishgard.’
‘I don’t know what that is.’
‘It matters not.’
They carried on through The Outskirts, paying little mind to the Alexandrian farmers and townsfolk going about their days, shuffling between sandstone-looking buildings and the aetheryte crystal.
‘Are you set on utilising that moniker, Antarcticite?’
She pressed her lips together before replying. ‘... I think so, yes.’
‘And what’s your theme?’
‘My theme?...’ He knows about that side of the Arcadion? I guess it was easy to tell even as a visitor. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’ It hasn’t been easy to imagine what comes with Oblivion.
They left behind the fenced-in dodos and watered fields of Yyupe’s Halo, though the moisture content of the air did not change much.
‘There aren’t any fighters I could see or hear about that wield ice magics, are there?’
‘No, not recently,’ she said, shifting her grip on her spear. Estinien carried his like it weighed nothing, but she was still getting used to holding hers for longer amounts of time.
‘Why not go with that, then?’
She scoffed. ‘What, because of my name?’
The response caught him by surprise, judging by his lifting eyebrows. ‘What does your name have to do with it?’
‘... It’s named after a mineral discovered in a very cold place, back where Alexandria came from.’
Their boots and greaves now crushed the lightning-scoured dirt underneath, as the lightning struck the coils and rods in the far distance of Heritage Found. Purple and white flashes flew through the land from time to time, highlighting their path towards East Yyasulani.
‘I have thought about it,’ she resumed. ‘But I haven’t been able to make up my mind fully. I think I prefer Lady of Oblivion, because it’s different from how my parents named me.’ How my mom named me, really.
‘Well, there’s nothing wrong with embracing a calling that is thrust upon you, if you care for it,’ Estinien said. ‘My advice is to lean into it. You could be the Lady of Ice, instead. I think that strikes a more clear image. Perhaps even Iceheart, although that may be too on-the-nose.’
‘On-the-nose? What do you mean?’
‘Nevermind.’
‘What about the fighting style? Do you think spears have a place in an ice ring?’
Lit by the lightning, Estinien chuckled softly. ‘Girl—’
‘Antarcticite, or Antarc for short.’
‘Antarcticite, I was raised and hardened in the snows and ice of Ishgard. All lancers and dragoons are. It’s a fateful pairing.’
Somehow, despite his aloofness and strange asides, Estinien’s words found their mark inside her. Perhaps it was because he was the first fighter whose strength she could recognise, even if not respect. In turn, he had acknowledged her as a fighter, not a child, despite his stubbornness in dropping her name.
Even the coldness of such a persona appealed to her. She was not one for idle chatter or the niceties of Alexandrian high class, or those who clung to the ghost of high class. She wanted to be ice, unbreakable, sharp, cool in battle and in life.
‘What about a catch phrase,’ she asked jokingly.
‘A catch-phrase?’ Estinien tilted his head. ‘How about… “You’re on thin ice!” As you strike the ice with the spear, and it sends shards flying at your foes.’
She burst out laughing. ‘Thunders, no! That’s abominable!’
He nodded, unfazed. ‘You can do better. Theatrics is your domain. Battle is mine.’
They had arrived at the perfect vantage point over the surrounding thunder plains. The hill was nestled between roving bands of aggressive bolt hounds and covetous myrmeleons. Both groups were already slated for culling, as the nearby hunter had assured Yaana.
With his spear now midnight-purple under the dome-skies and his eyes hardening, Estinien smirked. ‘I shall show you Isgardian techniques, and then I shall demonstrate something a tad more involved.’
She took up her own spear and mimicked his stance. ‘Very well!’ The prospect was pleasing to her, so she offered up a question: ‘Would you be available for sparring more often?’
‘No, I much prefer to go where the wind takes me.’
She tried not to let her disappointment show in her face.
‘But mayhaps when you ascend to the summit of that championship,’ he continued with baritone laughter, ‘I should like to challenge you!’
The words were a salve of hope for her heart. A grin overtook her, and she nodded. ‘I’ll await you there, then!’
Red aether circled around Estinien. She felt the tremors of an incredible power emanating from him. As he readied what could only be an earth-shattering dive onto the nearest bolt hound, her eyes were glued to him.
With a confident chuckle, Estinien bellowed: ‘Now, Antarc, you’d best keep up!’
‘Yes, sir!’