#arukh mankhad

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #6: Onerous (Arukh)

To say that Arukh felt out of place walking amongst the seaside caverns of the Mankhadi udgan and their apprentices was but an understatement of woeful proportion.

Not only had it been the better part of two decades since last he had set foot upon his own people's lands, but even before his Choosing, he had never once walked these hallowed seaside corridors of stone and salt. None did, save for the Storm and the Sea's children. Such was a privilege - or a sentence - afforded only to those like his sister, favored by their gods. 

Occasionally, others of means were allowed brief entry when the need to consult with the tribe's advisors and lorekeepers arose. The khan of the Shuurga, for one, but never those of simpler origins such as himself. So whenever he had received the summons to speak directly with the Elder Stormcaller in her own Cloister, Arukh had been shocked.. but not exactly humbled by the invitation, for a host of his own personal reasons and misgivings.

He carried himself with spine straight and rigid as the well-worn blade he had been asked to leave behind before entry would be permitted. His face was a careful mask of neutrality, but the whitening of his scarred knuckles as his hands tightened into fists at his side might have betrayed more emotion than he wished. Not to mention the occasional thrash of the darkly scaled tail that followed in his wake.

If the older man next to him noticed the signs of his irritation, however, naught was said of it. Such was the way of him, as Arukh recalled, never one wont to invoke any manner of unnecessary conflict. Baidu Khan of the Shuurga had led his people through countless storms in his years, ever the steady hand that guided the clan through choppy waters but never the one to rock the boat upon which they sailed. 

When Arukh had been but a fresh-faced boy, he had admired Baidu's placid and measured carriage, every bit the image of the calm that lie within the Storm's eye. The Shuurga had always treated him with great respect and reverence precisely because of his even-keeled temper and his wisdom. 

Amongst the Kharlu, however, he'd heard no few cruel jests and insults levied at his former leader. Baidu the Coward, as he had heard the Kharlu warriors refer to him on no few occasions, was but the most mild of monikers of which he had learned. Such had irked him, but none had incensed him as much as hearing him denigrated and derided as Bayanbataar's most fruitful whore by one of the Kharlu fighters that had sought to get a rise out of him. 

He's given the Khan more children than all his wives combined, the man had sneered as he had poked and prodded for chinks in Arukh's normally impregnable, icy armor. Weak though they are, at least they're good to fall upon the sword in his true childrens' stead.

Arukh wasn't proud of the fact that the man had successfully found a weak spot that cracked his carefully maintained mask of detached apathy. He was proud, however, that he had handily laid his harasser out cold in the dirt in front of his own kin, and left him with a few less teeth in his head besides. 

As he fixed Baidu with a sidelong glance of his seaglass eyes, the battle-scarred warrior wondered if those same jeers had ever crossed the coastlands' winds back to his ears. He wasn't sure that even if they had, that the Mankhadi Khan would have done more than accept them in his usual silence. Worse, Arukh didn't know after having spent so much time amongst the Kharlu where might made right, if the thought of him turning the other cheek to the insult impressed him with Baidu's unflappability or disappointed him for its passivity. 

 "The Elder Stormcaller rarely leaves the Cloister these days," he explained as he escorted Arukh through the winding corridors carved out naturally by thousands of years of sea’s ingress. "Age catches up with her and her health is declining, which is why she has asked you come to her instead of answering your summons. I pray you will not take her request as a slight."

Something about the explanation and roundabout apology struck him, though it took a moment for him to place his thumb on the discomfort's source. It was that he spoke to Arukh with the same cool, careful deference that was normally reserved for the Kharlu anytime they descended upon their camp. Realizing that the other man viewed him now not as a former clansman sharing the bond of blood but as one of their brutal protectors that expected submission made Arukh’s stomach churn uneasily. 

Now it suddenly made much more sense why Baidu Khan himself had seen fit to guide him, rather than one of the handful of young apprentice udgan now quickly scurrying out of their way. The last Baidu had seen Arukh had been when he had been surrendered to the Kharlu, and surely he had never expected to see him returned. That he was here again now so many years later must’ve made clear that he had earned his place amongst them, rising from his former slavehood by merit of ferocity. The Kharlu considered him as one of their ilk now, even if he knew they would always view him as lesser. And considering that he had not shared the reason of his calling, the shrewd Khan would naturally be left with only the assumption that Arukh was here on their protector tribe’s behalf than a matter far more personal. 

His mouth opened at once to correct those surmised assumptions that Arukh suspected Baidu of harboring, but stopped short. He could not – would not – admit that he had come here upon Ghoa’s request to relay her messages. 

No one besides those she had tasked him with reaching could know that Bayanbataar’s Escaped Wife not only lived, but had recently set foot upon coastland soil once more. None could know that she sought to return one day besides. If word were to somehow make its way back to the Kharlu Khan’s ear, his unrelenting hunt for his sister would assuredly alight with renewed intensity fueled by more than a decade’s worth of pent up cruelty and frustration. The Far East had likewise become far easier to traverse in the wake of the defeat of the iron men of Garlemald than it had been when Ghoa had first fled, and so Arukh doubted not that Bayanbataar would send his finest trackers even beyond the Steppe’s furthest borders in pursuit of his greatest humiliation if given the chance.

The already tight fists at his side only tightened further with the knowledge that he could offer no reassurance to Baidu of his intentions without arousing suspicion. It kindled anger within his breast, to know that he would have to continue playing the role of the Kharlu envoy rather than that of the long-lost son of the sea returning to the shores of home. That he would have to endure being treated as an unwanted, untrusted stranger in his own homeland.

What an onerous duty this had suddenly become.. but one he certainly could not begrudge Ghoa for asking. Until Arukh could bring peace to these lands to clear the way for her safe return, it was the least she deserved.

“Elder Unegen,” Baidu announced as the pair reached the corridor’s end, opening into a wide cavernous cove that echoed with the soft churning of the waters pooled at its center and the ever-present drip of moisture off stone that would’ve driven Arukh mad to endure days in and days out. “Arukh Kharlu answers your summons, if you would kindly receive him.”

#ffxivwrite2022 #arukh mankhad #ghoa mankhad #baidu mankhad #unegen mankhad #bayanbataar kharlu #TWO DRABBLES IN ONE DAY HECC YEAH #also ive missed you big broa #which is good because i have a few other related arukh drabbles up my sleeve #may or may not also be setting the board for future things #coming soon to a steppe near you: lizard drama #my favorite #you know #if ghoa doesn't get herself offed in the current arc at least #wouldn't that be on brand

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #14: Attrition

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[TW] This drabble deals with war/battle, killing, etc. While there isn't any detailed description of gore, you can.. probably imagine well enough without it. No good vibes to be found here, friends. Take care of yourselves and skip this one if it would be triggering to you. <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arukh’s chest heaved with labored breaths as he circled around the warrior in front of him, carefully keeping him in sight despite the blood streaming into his eyes from a weeping cut across his temple. It was far from the only injury he had sustained that day upon the battlefield however, and he was growing tired, weak. 

Luckily for him, it would seem that his bedraggled opponent was in much the same flagging state. He wore just as much blood across his leather armor as did the hand axes that he wielded, and he seemed just as content to do aught else but circle his waiting opponent as he caught his breath.

It felt like hours had passed since the war horns had bellowed out across the coastlands, signaling the beginnings of the annual clash between Kharlu and Jhungid. As much as the thought of the battle had antagonized him in the days leading up unto this point, his mind had turned eerily quiet and calm the moment the charge began. Time raced forward, his reflexes sharpened, and his mind was crystal clear except for the sounds of his own heart thrumming to the steady beat of survive, survive, survive…

Those first moments had been a blur, all adrenaline and desperation. He swung his blade without thinking, dodged to and from without thinking, and ended lives without thinking. Just how many he’d cut down, he couldn’t even hope to hazard a guess. Five? Fifteen? Fifty? It could’ve been a thousand for all he knew. He hadn’t the chance to even so much as get a good look at one’s face before the next was coming at him in the chaotic slalom of the front lines. 

But this was different.

Now, time seemed to slow to a crawl. This time, his opponent wasn’t faceless but a stark mirror of the emotions he felt coursing through himself. Anger. Desperation. Fear. And the longer the two men circled one another, each feeling out the other, the more uncomfortable staring into that mirror became. The more Arukh’s mind became clouded with thought and guilt, the more his reflexes began to slow.

He found himself wondering, there in the heat of battle, if this man was a slave to the Jhungid just as he was to the Kharlu. Was it his first experience with battle, as it was his? Did this fighter not want to have to kill him every bit as much as Arukh found himself not wanting to do the same in turn?

Perhaps they truly were just alike, save for the fact that the Jhungid fighter broke free of his circling and lunged first.

Slowed by thought and fatigue both, the sudden swing of the hand axe connected with Arukh's wrist, sending the sword he held flying out of his grasp. But he hadn’t the time to curse himself for the letting his opponent take the initiative nor rue what could very well have been his fatal, final mistake. Just as abruptly as it had upon the battle’s start, his mind kicked right back into instinct. 

Survive, survive, survive..

As the second hand axe rose high to deal the killing blow, Arukh’s offhand shot to the crude hunting dagger tucked into his waist. Rather than cower, he stepped into the other’s space, throwing him off – and allowing Arukh just enough of an opening to shove the blade upward under the man’s chin with a desperate roar.

Instantly, his opponent went slack, his weight falling full force against Arukh as the light left the wide eyes that stared up at him now. He didn’t know why he didn’t just step aside, but he found himself reaching up to catch the other instead of letting him fall unceremoniously into the blood-soaked mud and muck below.

Maybe it was an apology. Or maybe he was realizing now that with his sword gone and his dagger wedged deep in the dead man’s skull, he was assuredly soon to be joining him when the next opponent found him.

Yet no sooner did the grim acceptance of his soon-to-be fate come than did another bellowing call of the warhorn echo out over the roar of battle. Jhungid horns, signaling retreat. 

The fighting was over and the Kharlu had won.

Suddenly Arukh’s knees gave out from under him, but still he did not quite let go of his opponent. The body lowered to the ground with him and, shakily, the Mankhad placed him the rest of the way down into a more dignified final resting position.

If only their private war of attrition had lasted but seconds longer, they both could have walked away from this. Why did he have to swing first? Why couldn’t he have just waited just a moment longer? Anger and anguish rose side by side in Arukh’s chest. Why?! his mind seethed, even if deep down he knew it was illogical. Neither of them could have known that the fighting was about to end. In that moment, all they both knew was that it was kill or be killed, all in the name of a war that likely neither of them were vested in.

Collapsing backwards, a raw and ragged scream tore from between his gritted and bared teeth, half howl and half sob. Even though the Kharlu had won, this tasted not of victory to him but something far more bitter and poisonous. 

Because on its heels came the maddening realization that all his survival meant in the end was that he would be forced to come back again in another twelve short moons’ time to do it all again.

#ffxivwrite2022 #arukh mankhad #HOO BOY #i had no idea what to write for this prompt at first #and when inspiration hit me the only thought i had was #oh.. oh no... #welp at least it gives me a chance to give arukh some more love #but uhh... #he'd probably rather i show love in other ways

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #8: Tepid (Arukh)

"Elder Unegen," Baidu announced as they had reached the mouth of the Cloister. "Arukh Kharlu answers your summons, if you would kindly receive him."

The winding natural pathways that Arukh had been led through by the Shuurga's khan had been almost claustrophobic at times, but they now opened up wide before his eyes. The cavernous cove boasted a high, craggy ceiling dotted with salt-crusted stalagtites. At their tips gathered heavy droplets of briny moisture borne of the humid sea breeze that blew in from the cove's cliffside opening along its back wall. It gave birth to a ceaseless symphony of dripping as they fell to the seawater lapping at the stone below where it pooled in the Cloister's center.

He assumed the sound might have been meditative to the udgan whose summons he was now answering, but it did little else but grate on Arukh's nerves. Then again, it just as easily could have been the place in which he now stood. Even more likely, it was simply the sight of the elderly woman sitting by the water's edge alighting a long-simmering grudge within him.

Elder Stormcaller Unegen of the Whispering Winds looked up from the seat of stone that she was perched upon at water’s edge at Baidu’s words, though her gray, clouded gaze never quite focused steadily upon them. She looked different from the figure of Arukh’s memory, once proud form withered and worn with the ravages of age and possessed of an undeniable air of frailty at odds with the image of stern strength that he had long associated with her. Though her braided hair had always been gray of color, the hue had shifted now to the stark white of sun-bleached bone and seemed every bit as brittle. 

Using the gnarled driftwood staff resting beside her as a cane, the udgan slowly and unsteadily rose to her feet to greet both her khan and her guest. Behind her, another woman seemingly closer in age to Arukh’s own forty-odd summers quickly stepped forward at her obvious wavering, gently reaching out to take her arm for support.

"Please, Elder," she implored quietly, her brow drawn and voice heavy with obvious concern. "Do take care. You shouldn't push yourself.."

"You worry overmuch, Yesui," the elderly Xaela chided in nary more than an exasperated whisper, but made no move to push her or pull away from her assistance. “I am but old, not ill.. And it would be unforgivably rude of me to ask an honored guest to join me yet not even show such respect as to rise for their arrival.”

With her own sigh, the dark-haired woman at the Elder’s side seemed not wont to argue a point that would clearly fall only upon deaf ears. Only once she was certain that Unegen was steady on her feet did Yesui release her gentle hold upon her and step back, remaining close but allowing the woman her independence with a deferential nod.

If her talk of respect and honor was meant to please Arukh, it had fallen woefully short of its mark. He felt now the telltale flicking of his tail behind him, betraying his steadily mounting irritation. It wasn’t that Unegen’s choice of words itself had offended him, but that she uttered them with the same tepid deference in her tone that all of the Shuurga had entreated him with since his return. It was bad enough coming from Baidu Khan and those old friends and acquaintances whom he had spotted as he made his way through the same. Coming from Unegen, it was nigh unbearable for even the normally cool-headed warrior. 

But as Yesui stepped back and Unegen refocused her attention upon him, he found himself put squarely on the backfoot as the Elder’s thin lips pulled into a smile to regard him.

“Welcome home, Young Arukh,” she greeted, paused, then let out a breathy chuckle with a shake of her head. “Ah, but forgive me. I do suppose you are not young yourself any longer, but a man grown. Still.. you are ever a child of the Shuurga, and the gods smile at your return to Their bosom.”

His lips parted to answer, but no words bubbled up from between them. Instead, his brow and jaw both set in a look of conflicted confusion at having been taken so thoroughly off guard. 

This was not the manner of reception that he had at all envisioned within his mind’s eye. Not from the woman who had come to their home spirit away his sister when he was still but a child himself. Not the woman who had answered his protestations then with condescending placations about how this was a great honor. As if he should be grateful to her for shattering their family into innumerable, irreparable pieces.

His tongue passed over his lips as he bit back a far less gracious, unbecoming answer. Instead, he straightened, his posture rigid with tension as he fouggt to control the sharpness of his words.

“I must speak with you alone,” he answered, pointedly side-stepping her warmth. 

“Elder..” Yesui began from behind her, once more the concern rising to her voice but with greater urgency. 

Arukh wondered if she had picked up on his barely contained temper simmering under his skin. As if he would lay the first hand of harm upon this frail woman, regardless of his own misgivings towards her.. But it was clear that despite Unegen’s words of warmth and welcome, the others yet viewed him as Kharlu now. So he bitterly supposed it was only natural that they worry what capriciousness and cruelties of which he was capable with the Elder at his mercy. 

This time, however, Unegen stopped the other udgan's protests short by raising a wrinkled, gnarled hand.

“Very well,” she answered him with a nod, then glanced back to the other woman behind her. “Yesui, escort Baidu Khan to the storeroom and inform him of which herbs and reagents we’ve need of restocking and how much we should be grateful to receive from the gatherers. We've much work to do ere the next migration and it would be prudent to start now."

With no shortage of reluctance, the other woman left the Elder’s side and started towards them. Her bright blue eyes met Arukh's own as she approached the Khan beside him, fixing him with an appraising stare. He raised no protest to the manner in which she scrutinized him for signs of ill intent. 

“I will not keep the Elder overlong,” he offered by way of reassurance. “I’ve simply a message to relay. Nothing more.”

Whether or not she was satisfied by what she found in his eyes and his words, Yesui’s gaze finally broke from his in silence as she looked instead to Baidu. Without acknowledgement, she guestured for the khan to follow as she departed the Cloister and left them to their talk.

Once they were out of sight and the reverberating echo of their footsteps had faded into silence once more, Unegen lowered herself back into the seat she had just risen from with a groan. It was clear the movement gave her no shortage of grief. Little wonder it was that she scarcely left this cove these days if even something so simple gave her such obvious discomfort.

“Pray pay no heed to Yesui’s protectiveness,” she sighed once she was settled again. “I’ve but recently informed her that I intend for her to succeed me as Elder.. and I suspect that she is intent on delaying the passage of that mantle as long as she can manage it.” She let out a soft huff. “A more skilled healer than Yesui of the Calm Waters I have not met, but.. her confidence could withstand a measure of tempering yet if she is to lead one day.”

“With all due respect, Elder–” Arukh interjected suddenly, having little intent to entertain such conversation of a way of life that clearly no longer welcomed him. “I would relay my message to you and be on my way, if it is all the same to you. Yours is not the only message I come bearing.”

Unegen’s pale brows rose as she regarded the stiff-lipped warrior, but she showed no sign of offense at his impatience. She only offered an understanding, silent nod.

"Very well."

“It was Ghoa that bade me seek you out,” Arukh began, but paused when he saw the faint hint of concern begin to arise upon the elderly Xaela’s face. His head shook softly. “Though our paths did cross once again upon Steppe soil, rest assured that she is hale, whole, and well looked after. The Kharlu do not know of her interlude here and keeping it as such is the reason for my request of privacy for our talk."

He couldn’t help but let his words trail then, if only for a moment, to watch how they were received. At first, the chief emotion that took over Unegen’s countenance was that of surprise, followed quickly by concern. But with Arukh’s reassurance, that too faded away – into a look of peaceful knowing.

“I see..” she murmured, a small smile pulling at her lips as she cast her cloudy eyes back out to the sea beyond the Cloister. “The sea has been unseasonably restless of late, I had noticed, but I had yet to surmise its meaning. Now it becomes clearer.”

Once more Arukh felt the irritation rising up the spine as she spoke of signs and their meanings. Unegen of the Whispering Winds had always been revered and respected amongst the rest of the Shuurga for the keen ear she kept to the gods’ will. However, Arukh had only ever viewed it with bitter, if not sacriligious skepticism. 

“She wishes for me to relay to you that ‘she understands now’,” he continued, having to work to keep his tone measured but unable to keep the tension from sneaking its way in entirely. “She no longer blames you for the decision that you made not to intercede on her behalf when she was Chosen, and.. she feels that she owes you an apology for her doubting of you.”

Clearly, from how he was simply unable to keep from spitting those last words out as if they were bitter upon his tongue, Arukh did not share his sister’s sentiment. 

“So, then.. I take it that you revealed yourself to her? Who you were to her, in truth?” Unegen spoke up suddenly, but surprisingly.. there was no judgment there in her voice. Only curiosity. Once again, she had caught him off-guard.

“..Yes,” he answered, but not without the tone of a person suspicious that they were about to step into an awaiting trap. “She knows now that we are blood.” A pause, then he continued with perhaps a touch more venom underlying his words than even he had meant. “And she knows now of the rest of her true family.”

He had been expecting the words to meet Unegen’s disapproval.. He had been hoping for it, in truth. Though he did not wish to inflict any physical harm upon the woman in front of him, there was still a part of himself deep down that wished to cut her in the same way as she had cut them so many years ago. By stealing back the sister that had been taken from him.

So when the Elder’s expression turned to relief rather than rancor, Arukh was not rightly sure how to feel about it. Disappointed? Angry? He settled instead upon bewilderment, and she smiled knowingly when she saw how plainly it marked his scarred features. 

“You are surprised that it brings me peace to hear this?” she asked with a soft cant of her head. "But I suppose your surprise should neither surprise me. It is clear that while Ghoa has extended her forgiveness, your heart still harbors much resentment when you look upon me.”

There it was, the open acknowledgement of his anger and discomfort. And now that Unegen herself had opened that door, Arukh made no move to slam it back shut again. Rather, he gladly stepped right through its threshold.

“I considered not relaying the message at all,” he admitted in a huff, eyes narrowing upon her. “Ghoa owes you no apology. By my figuring, you are the one who ought be apologizing. To her. To our parents. To the other families from whom you’ve stolen loved ones.”

There was a long pause after the heavy accusations fell from his lips while Unegen’s gaze drifted off, her mind clearly turning with thought on how to answer him. Was she going to once again patronize him with her talk of the gods’ will as she had when he was a child? Chide him for his own sacreligious selfishness? Make excuses to justify what she had done?

“You speak a truth that has weighed heavily upon my heart now for years,” she sighed. Once again, the Elder Stormcaller had defied his expectations in the most unexpected of ways with the admission. “But lest you think I say so simply to pander to you without sincerity, I ask that you permit me to tell a tale from our clan’s long history.”

#ffxivwrite2022 #arukh mankhad #unegen mankhad #baidu mankhad #yesui mankhad #hhhhh i'm not super happy with this one #couldn't quite find the right stride with it #but decided to say fk it and post it anyway #especially since i needed to finish churning it out for future drabble purposes anyhoo #oh well #hecc u perfectionism

[sea-and-storm]

CIGARETTES & FIREFLIES DRABBLE MASTERPOST -- - -

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FIGHTING PITS ARC -- -

TOO LITTLE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Elam Grave, Lehko'a Nhali.

TOO LATE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Elam Grave.

EXPECTING THE WORST - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nabi Kharlu.

CROWDS - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave.

THE PACKAGE - Hisanobu's Perspective MENTIONS: Hisanobu Mifune, Saya Mifune, Ghoa Mankhad.

GARDENIA - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Hisanobu Mifune, Saya Mifune, Elam Grave.

WEAKNESSES - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Hisanobu Mifune, Nabi Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn.

DEAREST NABI - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Elam Grave.

INDISPENSIBLE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nabi Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn.

OPPORTUNITY - Saya's Perspective MENTIONS: Saya Mifune, Hisanobu Mifune, Ghoa Mankhad.

DOUBLE OR NOTHING - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nei Uzuka, Saya Mifune, Shael Stormchild.

ESCAPE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nei Uzuka, Musa, Hikomoro, Nabi Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn, Shael Stormchild, Tserende Valqirelle.

NEVER BEEN BETTER - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Elam Grave.

FAREWELLS, PT. 1 - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Elam Grave.

FAREWELLS, PT. 2 - Saya's Perspective MENTIONS: Saya Mifune, Hisanobu Mifune, Ghoa Mankhad, Elam Grave, Nei Uzuka.

FAREWELLS, PT. 3 - Hisanobu's Perspective MENTIONS: Hisanobu Mifune, Saya Mifune, Ghoa Mankhad.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FLOWER ARC -- -

LUCKY - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Batuhan Kharlu.

PROOF - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Akhutai Khatayin, Arasen Kharlu, Batuhan Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

NIGHTMARE (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Ino Ghostwalker, Batuhan Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn, Shael Stormchild, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

COMFORT (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Nabi Kharlu, Batuhan Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn, Shael Stormchild, Otsuyu.

STARLIGHT - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Shael Stormchild, Anchor Saltborn, Batuhan Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu.

FAVOR (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali, Arasen Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu, Tugan Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

BENEATH THE WAVES - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arasen Kharlu, Anchor Saltborn, Batuhan Kharlu, Nabi Kharlu, Shael Stormchild.

CRUX (TW) - Arukh's Perspective MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Ambaghai Mankhad, Ibakha Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad, Chakha Kharlu.

MUSTER - Arukh's Perspective MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad.

SWAY - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arasen Kharlu, Batuhan Kharlu.

ANSWERS - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arukh Mankhad, Ibakha Mankhad, Ambaghai Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad, Galdan Kharlu, Tseren Kharlu, Maa Kharlu, Chakha Kharlu.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

CORRUPTION ARC -- -

REFLECTIONS - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arukh Mankhad, Ibakha Mankhad, Ambaghai Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad, Arasen Kharlu, Batuhan Kharlu.

NOSTALGIA - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Anchor Saltborn, Naseem Malakar, Farrah Malakar, Bashir Malakar, Leila Malakar.

MISTAKES WERE MADE - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Egil Nylor, Estrid Nylor.

CROSS - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Nabi Kharlu, Egil Nylor, Estrid Nylor, Luri Kai.

CHANNEL - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Luri Kai, Nabi Kharlu, Estrid Nylor, Egil Nylor, Anchor Saltborn, Shael Stormchild.

YAWN - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Luri Kai, Nabi Kharlu, Egil Nylor, Estrid Nylor.

[sea-and-storm]

BACKSTORY, AU, ETC. DRABBLE MASTERPOST -- - -

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BACKSTORY DRABBLES -- -

BOND - Ibakha's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arukh Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad.

NOT A WEAPON - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Arukh Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad.

ATTRITION (TW) - Arukh's Perspective (The Steppe)MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad

CLOSE - Unegen's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Unegen Mankhad, Baidu Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu, Ghoa Mankhad.

CHOOSING, PT 1 - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad.

CHOOSING, PT 2 - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad.

RUNAWAY (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Yisu Kharlu, Togene Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu, Tugan Kharlu, Sechen Kharlu.

HEARTBREAK (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Togene Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu, Tugan Kharlu.

PRAYERS - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Cota Kharlu, Togene Kharlu, Yisu Kharlu, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

OFFERING (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

ARUKH - Arukh's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

SURVIVAL - Ghoa's Perspective (The Steppe) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Saran Kahkol, Muunokhoi Kahkol.

THE CRATE (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (Kugane) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Saya Mifune.

UNNOTICED (TW) - Ino's Perspective (Kugane) MENTIONS: Ino Ghostwalker, Ghoa Mankhad, Hisanobu Mifune, Saya Mifune.

MISS THE BOAT - Ghoa's Perspective (Thavnair)MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Dinesh Sutar, Sarasvati Parikh.

CONFLUENCE - Ghoa's Perspective (Thavnair)MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Sarasvati Parikh, Dinesh Sutar.

TEMPER (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (Thavnair) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Ino Ghostwalker, Sarasvati Parikh, Naseem Malakar.

CUTTING CORNERS (TW) - Ghoa's Perspective (Thavnair / Eorzea) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Sarasvati Parikh, Unegen Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu, Hisanobu Mifune, Ino Ghostwalker.

ONEROUS - Arukh's Perspective (The Steppe, Post-Flower Arc) MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad, Baidu Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad, Bayanbataar Kharlu.

TEPID - Arukh's Perspective (The Steppe, Post-Flower Arc) MENTIONS: Arukh Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad, Baidu Mankhad, Yesui Mankhad, Ghoa Mankhad.

HISTORY - Unegen's (?) Perspective (The Steppe, Post-Flower Arc.. sort of) MENTIONS: Khenbish of the Final Tempest, Sorocan the Stormkeeper.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

AU & MISC. DRABBLES -- -

ECHO - WOL!Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Unegen Mankhad.

FLING - Ghoa's Perspective MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Lehko'a Nhali

ROW - Ghoa's Perspective (Pre-Corruption Arc) MENTIONS: Ghoa Mankhad, Shael Stormchild, Anchor Saltborn, Nabi Kharlu.

[sea-and-storm]

REFLECTIONS || A Drabble..

Ghoa's eyes land upon the glowing evening horizon from the high-rising stone pedestals and bridges of Limsa Lominsa, and instantly her mind has wandered just as far from her present. 

It drifts from those near that walk Eorzean soil alongside her now, and rather ventures out to those who tread much more distant lands. It's been some time now since last she saw their faces;  for some, that time has stretched far longer than mere moons. But despite the time and the malms that separate them now, thoughts of them come to her now as if they stand right beside her. 

:readmore:

First, her mind flits to Arukh. The brother she never knew she had, but who had apparently watched over her as best he could whilst their paths did intertwine with one another. There's a twinge of regret that lies buried in her chest even now, that she had declined his offer to return to Kugane back with her once the ruins had been set to rest. Even more, that regret gives birth to guilt, that she would ever even consider tearing him away from those he so obviously cared about. 

She wonders how he's been in the time since they parted. Does he think upon her in moments of quiet reflection, just like this, and feel the same long overdue joy and relief at finally having been able to know one another? She hopes so, just the same as she hopes that those thoughts of her don't take away from his living of the present and the enjoyment of the love that surrounds him. After all, they're of the same blood, and she knows how wont she herself is to looking back to the past and asking, "But should I have…?".

And with the thought of kinship, so does her mind wander again. Their names are Ambaghai and Ibakha, and there's still a nervous eagerness that swells like a rising tide within her when she thinks of them. The parents that she never met -- not truly, anyroad -- and whom had apparently never stopped loving her even long after a much younger Ghoa had resolved that their absence proved their apathy. 

She hopes that the day will come soon when she will be able to meet them and know them. Arukh had told her once that her absence in their lives had left their once vibrant mother heartbroken and their once warm father cold and distant. She wonders now if the message that she had sent along with her brother to them had helped begin to stitch together the pieces of Ibakha's broken heart and to rekindle the lost warmth within Ambaghai. "One day when it is safe, I will return to you," she had asked Arukh to tell them. "Until then, know that you are never far from my mind nor heart."

But theirs was not the only message she had asked her kin to relay in her stead, and it is to that recipient that her train of thought wanders next. When Arukh had told her that Elder Unegen still lived, Ghoa had felt a weight lift upon her shoulders that she had nary been aware of its existence. She thinks back again now to the last words they exchanged before and feels heat rise to her cheeks. Yet it isn't anger that slights them now, but regrets. She had begged and pleaded with Unegen to intercede when the Kharlu had chosen her, and when she had refused, Ghoa had hurled vile accusations of betrayal at her -- and Unegen had remained somberly silent through the barbs and jabs that her young apprentice had inflicted upon her. 

"Tell her that I understand why now," Ghoa had asked Arukh to relay to the now elderly shaman. "That I know she was faced with an impossible choice, and I no longer blame her for the decision she made to keep the tribe safe." Much more quietly, she had added, "And tell her that I am sorry I ever doubted her love."

Her brow furrows at the recollection and she lowers her head, words of quiet prayer on her lips that have become all the more common these days. She beseeches the Storm, the Sea, the Dusk Mother and any other gods that might lend a listening ear to help those trying to bring peace to the coastlands so that she might one day soon be able to make that apology again in person as her mentor deserves.

Peace. That word again sets her thoughts to wing, and this time they land on a man for whom her emotions are yet still conflicted. Ghoa has yet to truly forgive Arasen for what he had done to her, bending her will under his thumb without her knowledge. The feeling of betrayal still coils like a venomous serpent in the pit of her gut, threatening to strike with fangs bared if she draws too close. Normally, this feeling is enough for her to recoil, to keep a safe distance from those uncomfortable thoughts. But today, she dares to venture closer.

Last she saw the Kharlu shaman, he seemed but moments from crumbling under the weight of all his careful machinations now collapsed upon his already heavy shoulders. And despite the anger that wells within her when she thinks back to what he has done to her and those she cares for, alongside it also rises a thread of well-meaning concern. She hopes that Arasen still remains upright despite that undoubtedly crushing weight;  more than that, she hopes that it might even become lighter in time if he only just allows others around him to help share his burdens. In that particular stubbornness of his, Ghoa has seen herself and she knows just the same the freeing lightness that comes when one no longer feels that they are alone in their trials.

Maybe, she thinks now, she might be closer to forgiving him for his trespasses against her than she thought she was previously.

Yet there is more forgiveness than hers than Arasen ought seek, not least among them being that of the man to whom her thoughts now inevitably turn as they often do in quiet, thoughtful moments like this. Batuhan was subjected to a far worse betrayal than she, as Arasen was anything but a brother to her. In the wake of all that had happened, the hurt and disappointment that the older Kharlu had felt was obvious to her. It hurts her heart now just as much as it did then to think upon it, and she can only hope that one day the trust and love between them might be restored. For both of their sakes. 

But more than his relationship with his ward, Ghoa worries more for the warden himself. She had left him clear instruction that he was to take care of himself in her absence. Was he? He had promised her he would, and she knows that Batu is anything but the type to break his word. Yet even if he does keep his word to her, as she is sure he will, there's always a niggling fear in the back of her mind wont to remind her of the dangerous game that he and the others play in their efforts to see peace return to the coastlands. Perhaps that is truly the hardest part of this separation, she realizes now, knowing that even the most fervent promises are not always strong enough armor against the dangers of life itself.

But she breathes deep, holding the briny sea air within her lungs for a long moment before she lets it go slowly. With it, she releases the fear and uncertainty; for the time being, at least. As she ever has to remind herself when her thoughts wander here, all she can do is have faith: in Batuhan's promise to her, in the friends and allies that surround him, and to the gods that hear her quiet prayers to keep not only him but all others near to her heart safe and happy in her absence. 

It's another of these pleas that Ghoa finds herself uttering quietly to herself. When it ceases, her silver gaze once more focuses upon the sunset-stained horizon before her rather than thousands of malms away to the Steppe beyond it. 

And she smiles in contented peace, the corners of her eyes wrinkling in mirth, as she wonders if any of those whom cross her mind are now standing at the sea's far edge thinking of her, too. 

#restless seas #ghoa mankhad #cigarettes & fireflies #c&f #arukh mankhad #ambaghai mankhad #ibakha mankhad #unegen mankhad #arasen kharlu #batuhan kharlu #drabbles #IM BACK BITCHES #well maybe back is a strong word #but i got the itch to write here on a slow friday at work! #so have a probably typo ridden phone drabble #nothing super profound or plot related #but just a cute lil drabble #also im kinda digging writing in the present tense for some reason #even if i probably switched tenses accidentally a million times in this #oops #also sry i have no idea how to do a read more on mobile now so SUFFER

[sea-and-storm]

ANSWERS ;  [ ghoa drabble ]

What an odd feeling it was, Ghoa thought, to finally find herself standing on the precipice of answers to questions she had held her whole life. Questions that she had in times both recent and past made her peace with forever going unresolved. When she had left the Steppe behind so many years ago, determined never to return, that had been the first. The latest, when Arukh had offered to answer them only but a night prior and she had refused, reluctant to give the ruins any more weapons to wield against her.

But now, she was here, standing on soil she had vowed never to set foot upon again. The ruins that had brought them here seemed to finally be at peace. It was over, and nothing else stood in the way between her and what she had always sought.

She was terrified, excited, nervous and relieved all at once. Totally and completely overwhelmed, unable to land on one emotion alone for overlong before the butterflies in her stomach moved her onto the next. That nervousness gave way to a long pause as she fought to decide which of her innumerable questions to ask first. Once she did finally speak again, her voice was quiet and small, tight with emotion that was swelling and threatening to burst before the first word was even spoken aloud.

"My--" Ghoa paused, then restarted. "Our parents," she all but whispered. "What are their names..?"

It was as good a place to start as any.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Their names were Ambaghai and Ibakha, and they loved her with all their heart.

To hear Arukh tell it, their parents had never looked so happy as they had when they discovered that they were expecting another addition to their family. A smile had been ever-present upon their mother's face, from as soon as she realized and lingering even into the months of fatigue and discomfort that followed. Their father had spent no few evenings carving driftwood idols and offerings to the gods for them to bring his new child into the world hale and healthy. Both had impressed upon their young son the importance of family and the responsibility he would bear once his younger sibling was brought into the world. And Arukh, the precocious child that he was, had scarcely been able to contain his excitement for the arrival of the sister that he had proudly promised to care for and protect.

If only that arrival had held on but a few suns longer, things could have been so different. They could have been a family in earnest, the four of them. But the gods had had other plans, and so Ghoa had been brought into this world with her first cries carried upon the howling gales of the raging storm.

And just like that, nothing would ever be the same again. For any of them.

When their parents had been forced to surrender their infant daughter to the Stormcallers for raising, it had left all their hearts irreparably broken. Their father, once a source of great warmth within their family, grew distant and dim. Their mother had spent the following years locked in grief, scarcely ever leaving their home for the fear of coming undone should she happen to catch a glimpse in the village of the daughter that had been stolen from her. And though both had tried to hold themselves together for the sake their son, the pain never quite healed in full for them. In truth, Arukh might as well have lost three members of his family on the day that they took his baby sister away, so hopelessly sundered were they.

Yet while both Ibakha and Ambaghai had kept their distance to respect the will of the gods and the traditions of their people, Arukh himself had viewed the gods' claim over his sister and the Stormcallers' ways with much less reverence. With anger, even, and perhaps jealousy. So in stubborn defiance of the rules, he had never strayed too far from where she roamed.

His watchful eye over her hadn't stopped there, however. Arukh had been Chosen by the Kharlu some years before she herself had been taken, made to fight a war that wasn't his own and, then, to train others to do the same. Yet nothing that the Kharlu had ever done to him during his time a slave had stung quite as harshly as the pain he felt at having to stand by and watch in horror as his terrified baby sister was wed to the khan.. and knowing that there was nothing that he could do to protect her from their cruelty.

So this time, Arukh had tried to keep his distance. If there was nothing that he could do, no help that he could offer her, then injecting himself into her life at this point would only be like rubbing salt into open wounds. For both of them. 

It was only happenstance then -- or perhaps fate, if one were inclined to believe in such things -- that Arukh managed to catch wind of Ghoa's sneaking and skulking about that night that she had fled. It was clear to him after watching her that she was about to run, and he found himself stunned by the mettle and resolve it must have took for her to work up the courage to attempt an escape. Attempted escapees were a common occurrence, and the bull's share of them were found in short order. If they were lucky, they were killed where they stood. If they weren't, then..

It was then that he decided that he could not let such a fate befall her. If she were intent on running, then he would clear a path for her. So he had waited until dusk and slipped a potion into the drink of the herdwatch, to make him fall into a deep slumber. And though the aftermath had stirred no amount of conflict within him once he had learned of the khan's punishment visited upon the young boy whom he had drugged, he had been relieved when the hours after her escape turned to suns, then to weeks, to moons, and finally to years.

But she had never left his mind completely, he had assured her. He wondered from time to time where she was, and if she was happy. He hoped for her that she had found somewhere to belong, amongst people who treated her far better than those of the Steppe ever had.

And seeing her now, surrounded by those she cared for and whom cared for her in turn, who would fight beside her and for her if needed.. Well, he admitted, he was glad to see that he had finally had one prayer answered, at least.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

At first, the words that had passed between Ghoa and her brother had been awkward and hesitant, two strangers pushed into a deeply personal conversation. Yet as time ticked on, as Arukh revealed more of what he knew and answered the questions she had, their words became more natural. Stiffness gave way to emotion bared as the walls that held them back crumbled away. It rose into bubbling laughter at times, then turned to quiet weeping at others. But by the end, both had managed to shake whatever stiffness remained between them, talking less like strangers and more like long lost friends. Like family.

So when their talk began to dwindle and it came time to broach the subject with Arukh, Ghoa felt another tightening in her chest as she looked upon him.

"Galdan mentioned that he was going to give you the choice to leave with us, you know," she confided quietly, leaving the statement open to hang heavily between them.

The older Mankhad's brows first rose in surprise at the words, then furrowed into a look of clear conflict. His gaze gradually fell away from his sister, falling to the dirt and rock and flora at their feet below. Leaving..? He had never considered that before, to be true. He'd never thought it possible and so never had entertained the thought of a life outside of his current circumstance.

Yet most confusing was the fact that the thought filled him with more anxiety than it did relief or excitement or happiness. He felt he should have been happy to finally have the choice to be free of his captors. But there was a deep hesitation that settled over him instead as his thoughts turned towards those he would be leaving behind. Tseren, Maa, Chakha.. Could he leave them behind? But if he couldn't, then Ghoa wouldn't..

"But--" Ghoa interjected, breaking the silence and pulling him back from his spiraling thoughts. When Arukh looked back, the younger Mankhad was watching him closely, her brows furrowed in a look of concern. "Before you make your decision, let me share with you mine.."

#cigarettes & fireflies #c&f #O LAWD IT'S ENDING #IM EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED #HHHH #Ghoa Mankhad #Arukh Mankhad #Ibakha Mankhad #Ambaghai Mankhad

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV WRITE 2020: Muster (#3)

Naught but the sound of waves lapping against the Wavecutter's hull outside the port window filled the silence that hung between Arukh and Ghoa as the latter intently focused upon changing his bandages. It had been much the same the previous evenings that she had done so, scarcely more than a handful of words spoken between them and all pertaining solely to how his recovery was progressing. Though she hadn't been cold or unkind towards him in those times, there was no denying the awkwardness as she pointedly ignored the figurative elephant in the room:  that he was family she had never known to exist, and had likely never expected to meet.

At first, after the revelation on his part, the older Mankhad was resolved to let her come to him. He hadn't doubted that she had innumerable questions, and it was only fair that he answer them, no matter how difficult the answers might have been to give and receive. It was a lot for one person to handle, especially so abruptly, and so he wished not to force such emotion and discomfort upon her. And indeed, it seemed after that first night the subject had been delicately traipsed around that his instinct not to press the matter rang true. 

The second night, he had suspected that the questions would finally come. Yet again, however, Ghoa had only asked how he felt and saw to the wounds that the Jhungid witch's shadows had inflicted upon him. No mention of their relation or their family or their people. Admittedly, he thought it surprising, if not a touch strange that Ghoa still seemed to be avoiding the subject. But maybe, he supposed, she only needed more time to process what had happened, what it meant. Maybe she needed more time to even decide what her questions were to begin with. After all, she couldn't have come to that cove prepared to ask them, no more than he had been prepared to have them asked. And so, once more, he let it be and simply bade her a good night's rest. 

Now on the third night, Arukh was all but certain that the conversation would finally be upon them. Tomorrow they would disembark and make their trek to the ruins, and surely Ghoa knew as well as he that there would likely be no time for such conversations once they set out. If they were ever to discuss it, then tonight would be their last guaranteed chance to do so.

However, when his sister came to his room at her usual hour, things had proceeded much the same as they had the nights prior. There was a bit more pensiveness about her as she worked, he had observed, and perhaps even a hint of conflict. So he waited for her to finally broach the subject, and waited, and waited..

"Well then," she sighed as she finished tying off the last of the fresh bandages. "The wounds could stand a bit more time and rest, truly, but given that both are luxuries currently in short supply.. It seems to me that you should be fit enough for what's to come on the morrow." She flashed him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she stood from the cot. "Rest well, Arukh."

He stared in disbelief as she turned from him and started towards the door, and in his shock, she had nearly slipped out of the room entirely before he found his voice again.

"Ghoa," he called out after her as her hand reached out for the door.

Perhaps as if anticipating the very words about to come out of his mouth, she froze there in place. Her posture changed, tension slowly taking root across her shoulders. Her hand lingered upon the knob for a tick, two ticks, three.. before it finally fell away, and she turned back towards him. 

"Yes..?" She answered, hesitation palpable. "Is aught amiss?"

Arukh paused then, a momentary pang of guilt arising in his stomach. It was clear that she still held reservations, and he knew it was not his place to force them from her. Yet he could not fathom why she would seemingly surrender what perhaps might have been her only chance to get the answers to questions that he knew she had to harbor. That he would survive this excursion was no guarantee, after all. If he were lost, then she had to understand that those answers would very well die with him. The only explanation that made any sense to him was that she was afraid of what those answers might be, and while he certainly could not fault her for such, neither could he sit idly by as what may have been her singular opportunity for clarity slipped through her fingers without him having said a word.

"Three suns and you've not asked the first question of me," he began, his tone carefully even and bereft of judgment. She flinched ever so slightly, and her gaze averted across the room. Sensing another evasion eminent, he added in a voice that betrayed his pleading, "You must know that if you do not ask them now, then you may never--"

"Stop."

Ghoa's interruption had come so suddenly and unexpectedly, with such conviction that his words, indeed, died on his lips. Brows lofted, he stared at her, and finally her silver gaze turned back to meet his as a grimace twisted her lips.

"I haven't asked because I cannot afford to," Ghoa began, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "What we are soon to be walking into, it requires all of us to be at our best." She inhaled deeply, and slowly exhaled through her nose as her eyes closed, taking a moment to steady the quavering of her voice before she pressed on. "And there are people that will be counting on me -- with their lives, perhaps -- to be prepared for it.

"I already know well how that which calls those ruins home is wont to prey upon whatever weaknesses are harbored within a person's mind, and there is plenty else which already haunts me without giving the darkness yet more to sup upon. These questions of mine, of which there are assuredly plenty, must wait until the danger is passed. I've no other choice lest I wish to put myself and those I seek to protect endangered." Her gaze softened, and her shoulders slumped in resignation. "It has taken me three suns now to muster up my courage to make my peace with the knowledge that a lifetime of questions may forever go unanswered. So please, Arukh, leave it be.. I don't know if I have within me the resolve to deny myself this opportunity a second time."

The silence between them returned again;  brief this time, in actuality, though it seemed to Arukh to last a lifetime. It was not simply anger or indignation or even sadness that stilled his tongue now, but a lack of words altogether as he struggled to voice that which her words stirred in him. Perhaps it was foolishness, he realized, now that he had to be again reminded that Ghoa had never needed anybody else to find her strength for her. He had watched her grow within an isolated childhood, bereft of the warmth and support of family, into a capable young woman. He had witnessed the indignities she had suffered at Kharlu hands, as well as her dsring escape from them atop a stolen mare in the dead of night. Hearing her own words now, he could only imagine all else which she had endured in the years since that he had not been present to witness.

It was not fear that stopped her at all, as it never had. It was selflessness.

"You speak of weakness in yourself, but I believe you to be far stronger than what you give yourself credit for," he finally managed, a hint of pride lacing his words and a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "But I understand. These words shall wait, and I'll do all within my power to ensure that we both have the opportunity to speak them once all is settled."

The tired, anxious look that had taken up residence on her familiar features gave way first to relief, then to warmth as she mirrored his smile with her own. 

"And I shall do the same," she agreed. "So let us both now put this out of mind and get our rest. There shall be plenty of time after for us to get properly acquainted."

#ffxivwrite2020 #prompt 3: muster #ghoa mankhad #arukh mankhad #GHOA AND BIG BROA #been sitting on this drabble for a hot minute #glad to finally get it out #now i cant wait for mr. arukh 'my rolls are cursed' mankhad to die #before they get to continue this conversation #calling it now #cigarettes & fireflies #c&f

[sea-and-storm]

Prompt #16 - Bond ;  (Make-up)

                                                [ MANY YEARS AGO ]

Ibakha could remember when she was but a youngling when time seemed to move as quick as a startled hare. Each turn of the season would see the Shuurga moving onto their next camp, and she had spent many of those days with her siblings and friends exploring as far past their camp as their wary parents would allow them;  sometimes further beyond still when their backs were turned. Everything back then was new and exciting and an adventure just waiting to unfold. Though they never quite seemed to unearth all the secrets of the land before it was time to move along again, leaving them to pick up their search in the following year upon their return.

But as she had gotten older, time had gradually begun to slow. With each year that passed, the novelty and excitement of exploration had faded more and more. By the time she was a young teen, Ibakha had memorized the lay of the lands that they called home like the back of her hand. The bright-eyed excitement of childhood was giving way to the hum-drum mundanity of adulthood looming on the horizon.

Then she was a young woman with all the responsibilities such entailed. There was no longer any time for the adventuring of her childhood, but even so, the busy days still crawled along. Almost maddeningly so. Day in and day out, there were always the same tasks to be done. Weaving and repairing the nets. Walking the coastline in search of the plants their healers and poison-makers requested. Cleaning and cooking the day's catch. So on, and so on. A seemingly endless list of chores and tasks for the good of the clan's whole.

When naught seemed to change any longer and each day seemed more-or-less a repeat of the last, Ibakha had begun to feel as if time had stopped altogether. She had spent no few evenings staring out over the sea on the horizon, wondering what laid beyond. What new lands were there? What strange creatures and people? That thought had ignited within her a longing for something new and interesting to break up the monotony.

Perhaps she would have followed that yearning and curiosity, if it hadn't been for Ambaghai. She had known him first as the boy who had accompanied her on many of her girlhood adventures, taking on the self-imposed duty of making sure the she and the other younger children kept from harm. It seemed then only natural that as he had grown into a man that he would take up a protector's role for their people. It seemed more natural still, given their early childhood bond, that Ibakha would eventually come to call him her husband.

Life had changed and once again, it seemed as if time had resumed its forward march. It came quicker still when she learned that she was carrying their first child. And if it weren't already moving quickly enough, the days had started to positively fly by once she had actually brought their son, Arukh, into the world. The monotonous feeling of each day being the same that she had once felt was long gone then, but was instead new and exciting -- a feeling she hadn’t felt since her own youth -- as she watched her beloved son learn and grow.

When the gods saw it fit to bless them with a second some years later, Ibakha had been ecstatic at the thought of adding yet another to their family. Motherhood very much suited her, and she was all too eager for the chance to bring another life into this world and marvel with pride as she watched them come into their own.

But she had never once anticipated that when this child came, the selfsame gods that had blessed them with her would just as quickly lay their claim upon her and steal her away.

Ibakha had known what it felt like for moons to pass in the blink of an eye, and for days to drag along at a snail's pace. Somehow, this last year of her life -- knowing what was to come at its end -- had done both simultaneously. Each day that she held her daughter in her arms felt as if she had been hers for an eternity, and the love she felt for the tiny babe had only grown exponentially as such. Yet still, as she laid abed of an evening, Ibakha wept as she thought of how each coming of dusk meant that she was yet another sun closer to having to say her good-byes.

Now, as she sat across their yurt watching Arukh and Ghoa happily playing with figures of steppe creatures their father had carved for them, Ibakha couldn't shake the thought of this being their last evening together as a whole family from her head. Shortly after first light of the following morning, Elder Unegen would come and leave with the toddler in tow, to be raised by the udgan of their clan not as the daughter of Ibakha and Ambaghai, but as a daughter of the gods.

"How do we explain this to him..?" she asked in a quiet, almost broken whisper. "Arukh will be heartbroken."

Neither she nor her husband had had it within them to try and keep Arukh away from his younger sibling. Already the spitting image of his father in temperament, the young Xaela had resolved from the moment he had laid eyes on his sister to take care of her. In the beginning, Ibakha had wanted him to be able to have these precious memories to cherish, yet now she couldn't help but wonder if it had been a terrible mistake. He had bonded with her more deeply than she had anticipated. They all had.

At first, Ambaghai said nothing, not even looking up from the bone darts that he was carving. He had always been a man of few words, but they had become even more scarce in recent moons. She hadn't once seen her husband weep in all the years she had known him, but all the same, she knew that his heart hurt just as deeply as her own. He was trying to be strong for her sake, and she loved him for it, but she knew that even he must have been reaching the limits of the hurt he could carry in silence by now.

"He will be," he finally sighed as he put down his whittling, tired silver eyes rising first to his wife and then to the younglings by the fire pit as they burst into happy peals of laughter. A hint of a smile tugged onto his face at the sight, the barest twitch of his lips and the softening of his sharp features alone enough to speak volumes of the love and pride that he felt -- and when they disappeared again but a tick later, it spoke volumes of his sadness as well. "We all will be," he continued in a softer voice, one reserved only for her. "But we will learn how to live with that hurt. We must."

Ibakha bobbed her head in a slow, reluctant nod at his words. She knew he was right, for there was no other choice. They had already discussed it once, not long after they had learned of Ghoa's choosing. Refusing to allow it to come to pass would only see them all facing exile, Arukh included, and their daughter would be wrested from them regardless.

They had also talked of taking their family and escaping in secret, but both she and her husband knew it was no real option. Without the protection of their clan, meager as it was, they would be easy pickings for capture by either the Kharlu or Jhungid. That was, if some other hungering steppe beast didn't set upon them first. There was no life for them beyond the Shuurga's territory, and especially not with young children in tow.

At least by cooperating, both Ghoa and Arukh would be safe. As much as she hated the situation, as much as she had wracked her brain trying to figure out any possible way to avoid giving up her child, Ibakha knew as a mother that that was what was most important.

Still, it made it no easier to swallow, and the longer she sat there and thought on it, the more a frustrated, helpless anger began to bloom in her chest. How cruel of a tradition it was, to not only take a babe from their parents but to do so only after their first year of life. After giving them such and long-yet-short time to form a bond that would take the breaking of hearts to sever. She knew that, logically, it was because none of the childless shamans would be able to care for a child before its weaning. But right now, her heart wasn't thinking with logic.

"I don't know if I can, Ambaghai.." Ibakha whispered hoarsely. Her hands curled into white-knuckled fists, her lip quivered, and her eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. She had done such a good job to hide her grief from her children all these moons, always rising and hiding away from their eyes when it became too much to suppress. But now that they were down to the very last of their time together, she couldn't bring herself to let Ghoa leave her sight for even a single tick.

Seeing the impending breakdown about to occur, Ambaghai rose from his seat to kneel in front of her own. So very carefully, he pulled the much smaller woman in close, one hand rising to stroke her hair. Beneath her, she could feel a slight tremble in her husband's form, and but a moment later the telltale dripping of moisture onto her bare shoulder. Only then did the sobs begin to wrack her body in earnest, mercifully muffled against his chest.

Only fulms away, both Ghoa and Arukh continued to be engrossed in their playing, blissfully unaware of their parents' hearts breaking for them.

#ffxivwrite2018 #prompt 16 - bond #make up day #restless seas #ghoa mankhad #ibakha mankhad #ambaghai mankhad #arukh mankhad #elder unegen #drabble #backstory #the past #I DID IT #I PARTICIPATED ONCE #THAT WAS MY PERSONAL GOAL #(even if it was on a make up day shhhh..) #also holy moly 2 drabbles in 2 days hrffff... #time to REST

[sea-and-storm]

ARUKH ; Drabble (pt. 2.5)

Another year had come, and another battle had passed. This time the fighting had been more brutal than any others of recent memory; and still, Arukh had lived.

He hadn't left the battlefield without injury, though. Besides the numerous small cuts and bruises that littered his body, the worst of it was a deep, nasty slash across the front of his shoulder where a Jhungid blade had caught and unhorsed him. Yet the enemy had paid for it with a knife in the stomach when he had come to finish him on the ground.

Still, injured as he was, he had risen to return to the fray until the sound of the horn signaling their retreat pierced through the chaotic chorus of battle like an arrow.

Upon returning to camp, he had been attentively tended to by the tribe's healers along with the other seasoned fighters. Though his body would likely still hurt and ache for days to come, he was confident enough in his recovery to suspect he would have at least one more battle in him. More, perhaps, if the gods were kind.

Though the same could not be said for many, he knew. Once he had recovered enough to leave the watchful eyes of the menders, Arukh had ventured out to the tents along the camp's periphery where the less fortunate injured had been tucked away, out of sight. To a place where their near inevitable passing would be as little inconvenience to the rest of the tribe as possible.

More than the cuts and bruises, and more even than the deep injury to his shoulder, it had hurt for him to walk through those tents. Many faces were those that he recognized, those that he had spent the better part of the last year preparing for that day. Yet more painful was the realization that they made up only a small fraction of those he had sent into battle.

Arukh was hardly a stranger to the death. The first year that he had fought, he himself had been one of few who had returned. Fewer still of those whom he had trained alongside had remained by the second year. By the third, his stubborn refusal to die and the number of Jhungid lives he had taken had earned him a chance to prove himself by training new captures. From then on, after his success had won him a path from slavery and the right to call himself Kharlu, he had grown accustomed to never again seeing those whom he had trained day in and day out after the fighting began.

Still, years later, it was hard not to feel their deaths weigh upon his shoulders as personal failure.

Tending to the injured in the aftermath had become something of a ritual for him. In truth, he knew there was little he could do for them. He wasn't a healer, and so the extent of his knowledge of treating wounds was how to tie a tourniquet to staunch blood flow just long enough to get up and keep fighting. But still he did whatever he could to help the menders, keeping the injured company, or giving the ailing a pair of listening ears for their final words to fall upon. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do.

It wasn't new that the injured slaves' care came second to the clan's stronger warriors. What was new was that there were so very many of the latter this year, leaving only few healers to care for the rest. And perhaps what surprised him most of all was that she was among them.

The seventh wife had been a rare sight around camp once the strife between Bayanbataar and herself had become known, and talk had begun to follow in her wake. Tribemates whispered scornful reproaches of the khan's hateful, barren wife. Drunken men made crude jokes of what would happen if Bayanbataar decided to relinquish his claim upon her. Even wild, conspiratorial rumors circulated ranging from alleged affairs to accusations of being part of a Jhungid ploy to distract their leader.

Arukh had heard it all; not only from the Kharlu, but occasionally in the envious grousing of the slaves as well. He had doubted the veracity of most of it, and in truth, his blood began to simmer each time he had heard such talk. Yet still he had kept a healthy distance from the girl for reasons of his own.

Ghoa's decision to emerge now and aid in the recovery of the slaves had been unexpected. Though he normally tried to pay as little heed to any matters related to her as possible, Arukh found himself watching her from a distance as she arrived in the morning and worked tirelessly into the evening. Each day, he suspected that she would grow tired of the frustrating hopelessness and thanklessness. But each dawn, despite his expectations, she returned.

Hers had become such a regular presence that on the day that she did not arrive until after noon, the warrior wondered what had caused her delay. That she only stayed long enough to give another mender some hushed instruction before hurriedly leaving again roused within him curiosity -- and suspicion. Though he had long ago resolved to give the woman a healthy amount of space, now he resolved to skulk after her from a distance.

It did not take him long to realize what it was that she was doing, sneaking about from place to place and pocketing whatever she could get her hands on when backs were turned. He watched as she grabbed rations, a waterskin, flint, a hunting knife. He watched as she stood at the edge of the pen where the horses were kept, a worried look of puzzlement on her face, undoubtedly trying to plan out how she would steal one of those as well.

Once she had returned to her tent, Arukh had returned to his own with the knowledge that the seventh wife was about to make an escape. Sitting upon that knowledge, he felt oddly conflicted.

On the most obvious hand, his duty demanded that he go to his khan at once. Despite that he did not share their blood, the Kharlu had become his people years ago. They had protected his birth clan for generations untold long before he had been born, and continued to protect them to this day. Though they had taken him from them as a slave, the Kharlu had allowed him a chance to earn his place among them. He felt no resentment; at least, not any longer. For a former slave, his loyalty ran particularly deep.

Yet despite having long ago relinquished the name and traditions of the Mankhadi, the memories of home remained.

He could still remember being only a boy when he had pressed his hands against his mother's swollen stomach and marveled at the soft kick from inside. He remembered the proud gleam in his parents' eyes when they explained that, soon, he would have a new sibling to care for. He could never forget the howling winds, the hissing rain, and crashing thunder paling in comparison to his mother's screams as she brought that tiny, tiny babe into the world. He remembered the first time he had saw her, and even as a young boy, resolving to keep his baby sister safe.

Worse were the memories of the day moons later that Elder Unegen had come to their home and taken his sister with her, before Ghoa had even had a chance to know him. The memory of the many months that followed filled with his mother's inconsolable crying. The memory of his father trying to make him understand what an honor it was to be chosen, even if his lectures sounded more like he was trying to make himself believe it.

He had changed much since that day that he had been taken by the Kharlu. He had become stronger, harder, colder even. He had become exactly what he needed to be in order to survive and become one of them. Now, he shared far more in common with his captors than his own birth clan.

Yet Arukh couldn't deny what blood ran through his veins, and that it was just the same as that which ran from hers. Only now, he was no longer bound by Shuurga law and tradition.

Darkness fell, and Arukh found himself making a trek across the camp back to the yurt where the menders had treated his injuries days earlier. All it took was a complaint of his shoulder bothering him, preventing him from sleeping restfully, for the young girl to give him a potion to help him rest. He thanked her, pocketed it, and moved on to the next.

The shepherd's son, Mukhali, was a boy of no more than fourteen summers, still more child than man. He was one of many children left orphaned by the war, having to take over his father's former responsibilities. One of which having been watching over the horses and sheep through the night. That was where he found him, sitting by the fire and staring out vigilantly into the night.

Arukh had come to him claiming concern for how he was holding up. He had known his father, he told the boy, and so they had talked at length of the departed man, sharing stories and laughter and heavy, somber silences between them. After a time, Arukh had offered a waterskin filled with kumis to the boy. Unfamiliar as he was with the drink, Mukhali seemingly failed to notice the odd taste of the sleeping draught.

If Ghoa succeeded in getting away with a horse under his watch, the boy's punishment would be harsh. That he was Kharlu by blood would perhaps lessen his punishment than if he were a slave, but still, he could only imagine Bayanbataar's rage. As he watched the boy's eyelids begin to grow heavy and excused himself, his stomach twisted itself into guilty knots.

His nerves on edge, Arukh did not yet retire to his tent. Rather, he found himself a shadowed corner from which to watch, as Mukhali finally fell fast sleep and eventually, as his sister crept into the pen.

He held his breath as she led the horse away, the air still caught in his lungs even after she disappeared from sight. He only breathed it out in a relieved exhale when he heard the faint, soft sound of a horse taking to a gallop in the far distance.

Slowly and carefully, the warrior made his way through the shadows of the moonless night back to his tent, taking care not to be seen. If his treachery became known, it would be his death.

But even still, he could not find regret in his choice. His commitment to his tribe had kept her from protecting her once before, but it would not do so again.

For once, he was glad to be the family she needed, even if unbeknownst to her.

#restless seas #Ghoa Mankhad #arukh kharlu #the past #drabble #BEEN SITTING ON BIG BROA FOR A WHILE NOW #just waiting for this drabble series to finally get written #so just throwin it out there now #since itll probably be important later #:eyes:

[sea-and-storm]

I may or may not have gotten bored and inspired to make a small personal army of Xaela relevant to current (and future!) plot shenanigans. I may have a.. slight.. lizard problem..

[ TOP ]  Bayanbataar Kharlu, khan of his clan. Ghoa’s estranged husband. [ MID LEFT ]  Cota Kharlu, first wife of Bayanbataar, Kharlu-born. [ MID CNTR ]  Togene Kharlu (Haragin), fourth wife, friend to Ghoa. [ MID RIGHT ]  Yisu Kharlu, eldest daughter of Togene and Bayanbataar. [ BTM LEFT ]  Ibakha Mankhad, mother to Ghoa & Arukh. [ BTM CNTR ]  Arukh Kharlu (Mankhad), former slave turned Kharlu archery trainer. [ BTM RIGHT ]  Ambaghai Mankhad, father to Ghoa & Arukh.

#Restless Seas #Ghoa Mankhad #Cigarettes & Fireflies #Bayanbataar Kharlu #Cota Kharlu #Togene Kharlu #Yisu Kharlu #Ibakha Mankhad #Arukh Kharlu #Ambaghai Mankhad #hhhhh #SO MANY LIZARDS