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sworn-unbeliever · 4 years

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22 - Argy-bargy

wc: 1,751

Back on the source. Teremy never thought he’d miss Norvrandt, yet here he was. Not as though he had no means to go back. Just that he had more time for himself. More peace and quiet. And wondering what else to do.

Besides training.

In fact, training was all he did since he returned back to the source. The same old fields of lower La Noscea. The same routine as before.

And the same restless nights of before.

After tossing and turning for nearly an hour, Teremy realized that slumber had no business with him anytime soon. He played a few chords on the piano, yet his nerves still buzzed at an all-time high. His instincts felt compelled to go outside. And soon, Teremy found himself outside in the usual fields of Lower La Noscea, all by himself, practicing the same martial arts drills as before.

“There you are. I had a feeling you’d be here.” chirped the familiar-sounding voice of what could have been a young boy.

The same Joey Madison.

Hovering on a riviera chair, the lalafell was dressed in his usual red clothes. No doubt that he had gotten dressed for an outing as well.

“What are you doing up this late?” Teremy asked, still punching the air. Right. Left. Right. Left.

“I could say the same for you. Or maybe I can guess.” said Joey. “Your nerves are in such a high that you can’t sleep.”

“Mm.” Right. Left. Right. Left.

“I heard that’s a sign of overtraining.”

Teremy stopped. He knew an impending confrontation when he heard one.

“Implying?”

“You stopped, meaning you have an idea of what I’m talking about.”

The miqo’te folded his arms. That comment was enough to feel like his nerves had been punched. “We’ve traveled around Norvrandt together. I’ve done this all the time and you hadn’t said anything. Now it’s a problem?”

Joey waved his hands. “I was just thinking about it. I mean, most people say that the max time to train per day is four hours, otherwise you put unnecessary strain on your body, or something like that.”

Teremy resumed horse stance punching. “I’m fine. I’ve been training this long for the past five years. I’m used to it.”

“Maybe, but what’s gonna happen if you injure yourself?” Joey asked.

“I don’t tell you how to live.”

“You being irritable is proving my point.”

Sighing, Teremy stood up and glowered at the lalafell. “What is your point?”

Joey took a deep breath as though he knew he was about to kick the orn hornet’s nest. “I was thinking… maybe instead of training for eight hours per day, how about four? I mean—”

“Look, I’m fine. I don’t get what your problem is or why this is a problem now. I live my life the way I want and you do your thing. We can agree to disagree.”

Joey took another deep breath as though he had anticipated Teremy to have this kind of reaction. After all, who took to criticism out of the blue lightly? “I’m just worried about what would happen if you injure yourself permanently and you won’t be able to protect anyone anymore.”

Teremy clenched a fist. He had heard enough. The miqo’te marched up to Joey and glared into the lalafell’s red eyes up close and personal. “You don’t know anything. What do you know about being good enough to protect the party? What would you know about fighting in matters of life or death?”

Joey glowered back, unflinching. “More than you’d want to care. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t understand. I don’t understand strong people and I never will. The only thing I understand is that just like many people, you’re protecting your vices because you don’t want to admit you feel inadequate.”

The lalafell’s words caused something to snap inside of Teremy. The miqo’te’s fist swung so swiftly that Joey didn’t even see him move. Suddenly, Joey felt like a primal had smashed into him and knocked him all the way over to the first, chair and all.

Teremy felt a pang of guilt once he realized what he had done, but only for a brief moment as his anger washed him over. “What does he know? What does anyone know?”

Yet, Teremy had no time to reflect on what had just happened, for a tidal wave of magical projectiles flew his way. A bolt of lightning struck Teremy at point blank. Pain surged through Teremy’s body. But at that point, Teremy had felt electrical surges way worse than that and he shrugged off the pain. Fire. Air. Stone. Joey wasn’t going down without a fight. Now with Teremy’s own senses ready, as though his body itself wanted to prove Joey wrong, Teremy leaned back and dodged the fire projectile, then the air, and punched the boulder sailing his way clean on. The rock formation shattered with his fist.

Then he saw a blur of red sail towards him with Joey’s own extended fist sailing Teremy’s way. Of which the miqo’te easily stopped with an open palm. But typical of Joey, such a straightforward attack wasn’t his real aim, as Teremy learned the hard way when a sudden blast of energy sent the miqo’te sprawling back. Once Teremy’s feet touched the ground, he dug his feet down to regain his footing. That pause only lasted for a second. Teremy dashed at Joey at full speed, tackling the lalafell with his shoulder. But Teremy’s assault wasn’t done yet. And soon Joey found himself on the receiving end of a rapid series of punches, a double punch, then a another series of precisely-aimed kicks to make Joey regret his words.

“I have to be strong. I have to be ready for anything, to protect everyone!” Teremy kicked Joey in the air and vaulted up to follow him. “I don’t know what will be out there!”

At the apex of his jump, Teremy raised his leg again to axe kick Joey. Not before the lalafell had more in mind. A vercure to heal his wounds, quickly followed up by a blast of wind. Both hits connected simultaneously, with Joey crashing into the ground and Teremy flying backwards.

“I’m not saying to quit cold turkey. I’m just saying to reduce your hours. Give your body a chance to rest!” cried Joey’s voice from the distance.

“If I rest, then who knows what out there is going to get stronger! Not like you’d know anything about that. Someone who’s content to stay at the level he is all the time.”

“I have no choice! You do!”

Before Joey could even move or detect anything, Joey suddenly found himself on the ground again. This time pinned, as Teremy’s entire weight sat on Joey’s knees. Just as the lalafell tried to move upwards, he saw Teremy glaring down at him, fist raised, ready to strike. The miqo’te’s eyes glowed not with the rage of an inner beast, but with anger. Desperation. A futile need to prove his worth. Teremy swung his fist down, ready to smash Joey’s face and end the fight.

“You underestimate yourself.” Joey said softly.

Teremy’s fist swung downwards at full force. The lalafell continued to look up, unblinking, unmoving. Teremy’s fist collided into the ground by Joey’s head. The ground shook and cracked, yet Joey continued to stare back, unwavering. When Teremy’s ire came to, he saw the lalafell’s hand raised by Teremy’s own face, no doubt ready to blast the miqo’te if necessary. But Joey didn’t. Instead, Joey put his hand on Teremy’s cheek.

“I know that protecting people means a lot to you.” said Joey. “And it’s true that you could sustain injuries on the battlefield. What about self-sustained injuries, though? If you pull something? Tear something? Sure you can handle this physical strain now, but what about down the line? Ten years from now? Twenty? We can’t know what happens on the battlefield, but we can take care of ourselves out of it.”

Teremy said nothing. The pained look on his face told the entire story.

“I can’t… I can’t do what you do,” said Joey. “I have no stamina. I can’t keep up with you… or anyone. I wish I could, but over the years, I’ve never gotten better. All I can do is watch you—or anyone—in awe.”

Teremy still said nothing.

“Maybe just… give this reduced time a try. And if afterward, you find that I’m full of myself, you can tell me so. I just… don’t want to see you burn out before your time. You’re always taking care of other people. Let someone take care of you for a change.”

Clenching his teeth, Teremy dug up some dirt under his now clenched fist. “Shit… shit…” was all he could say as his tears fell on the lalafell’s face.

* * *

Reonora bowed to Teremy as the seeker entered Fortunes & Fancies. “Since you are here, surely you have heard how Joey has been worried about you.”

Teremy scratched the back of his head but said nothing. He had no idea what to say.

“Well, I am sure you have heard an earful by now, so I will get right to the point with my proposal. As a…” Reonora closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “... martial artist myself,” she opened her eyes again, “I know how important it is to take care of one’s body. Joey has told me his concerns and we’ve both came up with this idea together. So here is what I have to say. You don’t have to agree to it, but please hear me out first.”

Teremy looked at Joey, then back to Reonora.

“I would like you to work here at Fortunes & Fancies part time for the next three months. Exactly four hours per day. In other words, long enough to begin forming a habit.” said Reonora. “I will have you work at customer service and also make whatever commission necessary. Naturally, I will pay you for your time. As well, after your work is over, you may resume training, and I will be your sparring partner. Let me know what you think. You don’t have to answer right away.”

Teremy looked back at Joey. The lalafell looked back up at him and nodded. Like before, Teremy looked back at Reonora. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. He had made up his mind about what he wanted to do even before he had stepped into the store. He placed his hands in front of him.

“If you’ll have me,” he performed an eastern bow.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #the image was inspired by eyeshield 21 #rather than a fighting game #but i'm still a fighting game fan through and through #i feel like this prompt exemplifies teremy's flaws more than yesterday's entry

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sworn-unbeliever · 4 years

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17 - Fade

wc: 1,045

As we live, we experience everything through our senses, our thoughts. Our memories give us our own personal sense of being. It is through these recollections that we shape our sense of selves and bring an identity that we carry to the present and beyond. However, time marches forward. The more we remember, the more we forget. Does that mean that with memories long forgotten, we change who we are? Can we count on solely unexplained, lingering feelings to explain our behaviours?

Teremy rematerialized in front of the aetheryte warp in Kugane. Immediately he sauntered over to the establishment by the Eorzean Adventurer’s Guild outpost and took a seat at one of the unoccupied red benches. To travelers and denizens alike, this place was known as the Umineko Teahouse, an outdoor outlet for locals and adventurers to sit down, have some tea, snacks and possibly alcohol from other local venues.

To Teremy, however, this place was once the home of his childhood memories. The fish market that his family used to own.

The miqo’te pulled out his journal and etched some more Hingan scrawl. As he wrote, his ears perked towards what sounded like a couple of teahouse hirelings.

“Is it possible you can serve him? My Common is passable at best.”

“Perhaps, but I believe that it would be in your best interests to give serving him a go. Dealing with foreigners will be an experience that you will face for as long as you work here.”

No doubt that they were talking about Teremy. He figured so. But the rudest thing he could do was stare and amplify that awkwardness. The best thing he could do was keep writing and see what came of said conversation.

Call me a sentimental fool but there are too many memories that I’d prefer to carry to the grave. If the grave would ever have me, that is. The aging process seems to be missing the memo. And that’s why I’ve started writing down my thoughts here. So I won’t forget. Or wrinkle my nose in disgust as I read over things I’ve said. I sound so self-important.

Teremy felt the waitress approach him. He thought to continue writing until she actually said something. He saw her shadow looming over his diary some more. Most likely attempting to decipher his scrawl? Finally, the hireling spoke.

“May I help you, good sir…?” the teahouse hireling asked slowly, enunciating every word.

Teremy looked up from his journal. “I hear this local teahouse’s specialty is tea and dango?” he asked in perfect Hingan.

A sigh of relief. Teremy tilted his head. Once the teahouse hireling saw his confusion, she squeaked and held her hands to her mouth.

“I-I deeply apologise for my rudeness! It’s just that so few miqo’te pass by this area that it’s rare to see one, let alone one that speaks Hingan. Please don’t let my behaviour reflect too badly upon this establishment!”

Teremy waved his hand. “Not at all. I completely understand. I got that a lot when I used to live here.”

The teahouse hireling widened her eyes. “You lived here? Wow… I’ve never heard of miqo’te living here. Ah… I apologise again! I’ll get your order right away!”

Bowing again in what seemed to be more profusely than politely, the teahouse hireling scurried off as fast as a yukata allowed her to move. Teremy stared at her as she approached Ume, the owner of said outdoor establishment, and then continued writing.

Even though life goes on and many, if not everyone, forget that a family of miqo’te attempted to make a living in Kugane, I remember living here like it was yesterday. Simpler days of Jeremy and I running around like a bunch of crazy kids, traversing the Ruby Sea, Yanxia and the Steppe, fishing for our family fortune, and the happiness we shared with our aunt.

Teremy looked up to see the Shiokaze Hostilery. As his gaze moved upwards, his mind saw himself and his brother there--at least what he imagined himself to look like; he could easily remembered what Jeremy looked like there--how they’d climb to the top in an attempt to get to that coveted spot on the lamp post. To this day, neither had succeeded. He looked to his left, where there laid a statue of an ancient warlord, Zuiko. And how he and Jeremy used to climb this statue, pretending to be the warlord’s own escorts riding off into battle… at least before their aunt told them to get off least they’d hurt themselves.

Useless Tia’s fish market had seen better days. The only stench worse than the fish was his own breath. Either that or who’d want to buy fish from mangy miqo’te. A few curious customers came and went but without family history or a foot in the door, we had no hopes of surviving. Yet, that was my home. I still remember everything.

Teremy inhaled. Gone was the putrid fish stench like yesterday’s garbage. Time had moved on to evolve the local area’s scent to green tea leaves, rice and a hint of sugar. Some hints of tobacco here and there.

The sights, the sounds… Would I ever want to go back to that life? Who knows. I can’t live in the past forever. The life I live now is what I chose to live. I have no regrets. Like I said, live moves on. As much as we want to, we can’t move back to those days. We can just see what’s there now, wonder, and move on.

“Here you are, sir. Tea and dango.” The hireling placed a ceramic cup and a plate of three skewered rice balls beside Teremy. The miqo’te couldn’t help but notice that she spoke faster now, more casually, as she would a native.

Teremy nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

I appreciate the past. At the same time, I appreciate the present… and what the present will bring to the future. The fish market of the past will live on in my head and the Umineko Teahouse will live on in the present.

Now I’m rambling. Time to quit while I’m ahead. This dango is damn tasty.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #joey keeps a journal because he doesn't want to forget important memories #teremy was inspired by this and started keeping a journal himself #so that's where the journal thing comes from #teremy's bandana thing is just for appearance's sake and his eyes are fine

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sworn-unbeliever · 4 years

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30 - Splinter

(or: The Unchosen One) (or: The Completely Canon Story of How Teremy Arrived at Norvrandt)

((The last entry! I wanted to go out with a bang. Or a diatribe since this entry is really long. First of all, a huge thanks to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, an amazing person who tirelessly(?) organizes this event and with such passion and love. You’ve inspired so many to write or post, including me. Thank you so-so much. Also thank you to @abeat once again. I had asked her to have the Exarch describe Jeremy and she ran with it. She is amazing and hilarious and I can’t thank her enough for that and everything she’s done.

I debated whether or not to break up the story of how Teremy came to Norvrandt into a 3-part story for free Sunday. Then I opted to take Sundays off. But because of that, I decided to do this story as the last entry, and all in one go. Thus this entry is probably more digested than what it could have been. Either way, I had this silly idea stuck in my head for awhile about the sword in the stone and I finally got to write it. A huge thank you to anyone and everyone who has stuck around with me, my obsessive, self-indulgent stories, and this sarcastic musician-poet-dancer-thug up until now. You can also find me at @adeat, @quasionion, and @aspected-benefic. Until next time!))

Wc: 5,250

“Apologies for taking you out like this, but the citizens are as baffled as the local doctors. Perhaps you are able to shine light on this precarious situation.” said Lyna.

The two arrived side by side at the Rotunda. Upon Lyna and the Exarch’s arrival, commonfolk and guards alike parted, allowing them to pass. The Exarch didn’t have to go far to see what Lyna had been talking about. There in the center of the crowd laid an object that had not been there previously—a sword with a third of its black blade lodged in an oddly specifically-shaped stone. In fact, said object seemed so foreign that it looked as though someone had played a practical joke. Yet, as the Exarch held a hand towards the blade, he sensed great powers within.

“Whomever or whatever had brought this object here is no ordinary being.” said the Exarch. “The question is… what is this sword’s intended purpose?”

“This is why we’ve called you, my lord,” said Lyna, “in which you may hopefully shed light on this puzzling matter.

The Exarch held a hand to his chin and tilted his head. “Hm. ‘Tis most puzzling indeed. Perhaps I may attempt to divine an answer.”

Lyna bowed. “Please do, my lord.”

Closing his eyes, even though no one could see as such, the Exarch called upon the powers bestowed upon him by the Crystal Tower. He looked into the divide between worlds to see who the foretold hero would be. Using his phenomenal magical powers, he created a portal to show an image of the foretold hero. The crowds gasped in awe and wonder at the vision shown to them—a handsome, brown-haired miqo’te with a smile that radiated like the ever-present sun.

“Yes, I see it now. He is someone who is brave, kind and true. He is always kind to all creatures except his enemies. His enemies are creatures who are the bane of all that is good within our world. He feeds hungry orphans and houses needy animals. He is wise, benevolent and handsome—”

“What does being handsome have to do with being a legendary hero—” Lyna mused quietly under her breath. “Wait, is he feeding those orphans bacon bread?”

“—courageous and more powerful than anything across the land and sea—”

Lyna had never before doubted the wisdom of her grandfather, but she felt that was about to come to an end if this sweeping description continued for much longer.

“—he will come to us and slay all of the Light Wardens, Vauthry, and every last Eulmorean—”

“I doubt that’s necessary. Since when is mass murder heroic—” Lyna started to say.

“He is also chiseled like a god of war and has a magnificently long—”

“My lord, perhaps you should to try to summon the hero now?” Lyna interjected to prevent the description of the foretold from quickly going from a PG-13 rating to an 18+ one.

The Exarch coughed. “Yes! He is indeed the destined hero—the one foretold in the records.”

In the background, Moren, holding a tome, nodded vigorously.

“I see…” The Exarch held a hand to his hood, “... I see his name! His name is… Jeremy! Jeremy Itsubishi!”

Lyna quietly sighed, relieved that at least the remainder of the lengthy description had remained decent. “Where is this one, this Jeremy Itsubishi?”

“Alas, it may seem that he is… in a realm far beyond us. Much like the ones that have been drawn before.” The Exarch said tactfully. “But fret not. Mayhap with my magics I may be able to summon him here. Please stand back. I can guarantee neither the accuracy nor the drawbacks of this spell.” He held his staff in front of him.

The crowd, including Lyna, took large steps backwards to give the Exarch all the space he needed.

Closing his eyes again, the Exarch once again drew upon the powers bestowed to him by the Crystal Tower. He channeled his energies to cast a spell—one of which he had much practice. A giant, flat circle appeared in thin air. The Exarch reached inside, his hand vanishing into the hole. Bystanders peered to the sides and out the other end of the portal, yet saw nothing. A few moments later, the Exarch grinned like a cat that had just pounced on its prey.

“I have you now. Throw wide the gates!” the Exarch bellowed.

Everyone in the vicinity raised their arms as powerful gusts of wind billowed violently, yet somehow everyone’s feet remained firmly in place. The Exarch pulled his hand out of the portal. When the the portal vanished, all that remained were the Exarch himself and what he had pulled out.

Or, rather, who—a miqo’te, or mystel as they were known in these parts.

Blinking a few times, said miqo’te-mystel rubbed his eyes, one foot forward in a natural fighting stance, and looked around. “What the fuck is this place…? Can a guy ever get two winks of a rest? God fucking dammit! Agh. Next time, send me a warning ahead of time before you drag me through time and space?”

Lyna gestured to the brown-haired miqo’te-mystel that had just arrived. “Benevolence personified, my lord.”

Not one to be deterred that easily, the Exarch cleared his throat and spread his arms wide. “Welcome, destined hero, to the Crystarium in Norvrandt. I am the Crystal Exarch and I am the one who have summoned you here. You are the one fated for a destiny greater than you could ever imagine, Jeremy Itsubishi!”

“Jeremy…?” the brown-haired miqo’te-mystel asked. Rather than the higher pitch than the Exarch had imagined, this seeker spoke in a lower pitch with a natural velvety growl, even discernable from one word alone. “You mean my brother?”

Silence.

“... brother?” the Exarch asked.

“Jeremy’s my younger brother. I’m his elder twin brother. Teremy.”

The Exarch said nothing.

The crowd said nothing.

Lyna gestured to the brown-haired miqo’te-mystel again. “Once again, your aim is impeccable, my lord.”

* * *

“Teremy…?” the Exarch repeated slowly. “In what realm does one name their child ‘Teremy’?”

“I ask myself that every single day of my life,” said the aforementioned Teremy.

“Hmm.”

Placing a hand to his chin, the Exarch circled around Teremy, looking at the seeker up and down in a similar manner as one would appraise a fine piece of art. All the while, Teremy stood ramrod still, arms firmly at his side, his ears shooting straight up to the sky. Teremy sensed no malicious intent from this very familiar-sounding miqo’te, but at the same time, the longer the Exarch stared at him, the higher Teremy’s fight or flight thermometer rose. Any second longer and Teremy’s instincts will bolt him out of the room, whatever intention they had with him or no! Thankfully for Teremy, the appraisal process ended sooner, rather than later. The Exarch returned to his original position of in front of Teremy, his hand still on his chin.

“Well, he seems to appear the part on first blush,” said the Exarch. “He is quite handsome and his face, height and frame match the appearance of the one seen in the vision. Yet, there’s something different about him. I’m afraid I can’t quite place a finger on it.”

“Is it his hair, m’lord?” Lyna asked.

“Come to think of it, his hairstyle is different,” said the Exarch. “Rather than a lampshade, his hairstyle appears to be rather… messy? Side swept? But no, ‘tis another facet, one I’m failing to discern.”

Right then and there, Teremy wished his hairstyle looked like his brother’s. Then his mind could click on a light bulb as to what the fuck was going on.

“Then perhaps his build, m’lord?” Lyna asked.

The Exarch gave Teremy an appraising look up and down. “Yes, well, while the frame fits, his muscles are certainly much… larger. More pronounced. His shirt may as well be a second skin. A venerable god of war indeed. Perhaps he does even have a magnificently long—”

Teremy flattened his ears and pulled his hood over his head. “Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind—”

Lyna cleared her throat. “My lord. Although the spell may have been deceived by facial likeness, perhaps we can still take this situation to our advantage and have him try to pull out the sword from the stone anyway.”

Teremy pulled his hood back down. “Sword in the stone…?”

The Exarch gestured to something behind him. “Yes, well, we had attempted to call the hero seen within a vision to pull this sword out from the stone. Perhaps you can feel the blade’s energies from here? I can sense it. And it has been and shall be foretold—”

Moren, tome in hand, nodded vigorously again.

“—that a hero will pull this sword from the stone and use it to save our world.”

“That’s one hell of a story for you to drag someone all the way through time and space,” said Teremy.

The seeker paused to regain his mental state. He had taken on an empire. Primals. Violent illegal cartels and their lords. Getting dragged through time and space seemed like a logical next step. He pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. Pain. Bad idea. Yet he still stood amid a crowd and in front of a hooded miqo’te no less. Pulled through time and space all because his brother was needed to fulfill some kind of prophecy. And it wasn’t like Teremy could nope out of there. He had no idea where he was in the first place.

Might as well see this great big fuss first.

Teremy turned around to see exactly the description—a sword in a stone. Nothing more, nothing less, except for the sword itself. Teremy recognised the type of blade right away.

A gunblade.

The chamber was the largest thing Teremy had ever seen. The blade itself thick with a black coating except for its sharp edges. What was a gunblade doing here? What was it doing in a stone? Waiting to be picked up like a hero of legend.

Indeed, a legend: Teremy’s own brother.

The seeker’s mind jumped back to a point in time when Jeremy pulled out that own gunblade. Wherever he had found it mattered not. The thing got destroyed in a later ensuing fight anyway, but the point of the matter was that Jeremy had kept it. Prior to then, the younger Itsubishi brother had never shown any particular interest in the gunblade. But then again, things changed. Did Jeremy’s sudden affinity for the gunblade show some kind of destiny at work? Fate’s guiding hand that gestured the way?

And then fate in the form of this Exarch guy nabbed the wrong brother.

Teremy approached the sword in the stone. The crowd and the Exarch took a step back to give him some space.

‘Well, what the hell. Might as well give this a shot. Nothing left to lose.’ Teremy thought.

He gripped the gunblade’s handle. Immediately he felt the smooth coolness as though forged to fit his hand perfectly. He and Jeremy had the same size and shape of hands, but different dexterity, with Teremy being common and right-handed. Then why did this grip feel so natural? Why upon its touch did he feel like his very arm had been stuck in the rock and not this sword’s blade? Did Teremy imagine things? Fully expecting the blade to take his arm off the moment he pulled, Teremy yanked the handle with all his might.

His arm swung straight up with so much force, Teremy fell backwards. He shoved one foot behind him, quickly regaining his footing. The crowd gasped and murmured, but not the kind of gasp that he had expected. Not disappointed but not awed.

Confused?

Flecks of rock and debris trickled down on Teremy’s head and face. After shaking his head, he lowered his arm to see that he had indeed pulled the sword out.

With the sword still lodged in the stone.

In fact, Teremy not only pulled the sword out, he pulled the stone out as well.

Holding the blade sideways, his left hand cupping the flat end of the blade—or, rather, the stone—he turned back to the Exarch. “Does this count...?”

The Exarch’s pursed lips told the whole story. “Hm. Perhaps I truly need to perfect my aim after all.”

“There is always next time, my lord,” said Lyna.

Teremy’s ears darted around to the front and the side to catch the audio filtering in.

Disappointment.

Chatter.

Norvrandt will forever lord under the curse of an ever-present sun. Sin eaters will reign until the end of days. Teremy frowned and stared at the sword-still-in-the-stone again. His mind flashed him images of a time when he still lived under his father’s roof. A time when Teremy had been nothing but a disappointment to his father. A time when he protected no one but himself. His fight or flight radar soared near the top, only to be stopped by a roadblock called his ire. In just a few short moments, Teremy had been dragged around just to let others down by virtue of not being special, and that was that?

The Exarch placed a hand on his hood. “My apologies. I must return to my quarters. Also, I apologise again for inconveniencing you. You are free to stay here at the Crystarium as long as you’d like. We shall summon your brother in due time.”

He leaned on his staff. Teremy held a hand forward to brace him, even if he didn’t feel like he had a right to be in the Exarch’s presence. The Exarch turned his head towards Teremy and smiled.

“Thank you, but I shall be all right. This is nothing new. Believe me.”

Lyna sighed. “Yes, he is correct. This is nothing new. Teremy, if you don’t mind, I shall take the Exarch to his chambers.”

Without knowing what else to say, Teremy held onto the Exarch until Lyna got her hold on the cloaked figure. Once the two headed back, the crowd dispersed as quickly as Teremy had arrived. Teremy looked at the sword-still-in-the-stone.

“What should I do with this thing?”

No answer. Everyone had gone their separate ways. And now Teremy had no other choice but to do the same. Exhaling loudly, he placed the sword-still-in-the-stone on his back where he usually strapped his gunblade. May as well make use of it. Thanks to years of extensive training, he felt very little difference in weight. Had to be good for something.

Teremy wandered south. Some things remained the same as he knew them to be, yet different. Same gardens, though in circular plots with lampshades hanging overhead. Trees yielded leaves of not only green, but lovely shades of lavender and blue as well. Long lamps and domed areas that shone an unearthly shade of blue. He definitely wasn’t in Eorzea anymore.

But the question was… now what?

“Um! Are you Teremy?” asked a vaguely familiar voice that sounded like that of a small boy.

Teremy whirled around to see a dunesfolk lalafell looking back up at him. Blond hair parted in the middle, crimson eyes that matched his bandana and jacket, and an aura of magic surrounding him. But moreso than the lalafell’s presence or his appearance, his voice caught Teremy’s memory cue. Where had he heard that voice before?

Just in case Teremy’s mind played tricks on him again, he spoke cautiously. “Now all of Norvrandt knows my name. No thanks to that spectacle earlier.”

“Spectacle? Ah… I must have missed it.” the lalafell asked. “I just got here myself. Thought to take a walk and get a good idea of this place. Understand your surroundings and all that.”

“Fair. Then how do you know me?”

“I was part of the group that catered to that dance auditions. You know, the one you took part in. When that plant monster attacked, I was your co-tank. The, uh, paladin, if you can call it that,” said the dunesfolk.

The lalafell’s words acted as a cue that triggered Teremy’s memory. The dance auditions in Costa Del Sol. A disgruntled auditionee summoned a giant plant monster in retribution. What Teremy had once believed to be just the catering crew turned out to be an astrologian, a white mage, and a paladin—although more like a hybrid spellcaster who shielded his entire body with big guard and flung magical swords like a red mage—who helped the dance crew fight off the sudden foe. Teremy distinctly recalled the voice of said paladin who warned the party of dangers. A young boy’s voice.

A voice exactly the same as this lalafell’s own.

The lalafell nodded and smiled. “You remember! So you are Teremy Itsubishi?”

Teremy nodded. “If you’re looking for Jeremy, he’s… not here. Unfortunately for the prophecy.”

Joey put his stubby finger to his mouth and tilted his head, looking down, as though weighing options of how to answer as such. When he craned his neck to look up again, he finally spoke. “I just happened to see you and you looked lost and confused. That’s all.”

The seeker rubbed his face. All those years of trying to look indifferent… thwarted by his bewilderment. What a day. “Right. You said you missed the spectacle. Thankfully for my pride. At any rate, what’s your name again?”

“Joey. Joey Madison.” The lalafell gestured to himself with his thumb. “So, um, what brings you all the way to Norvrandt?”

“I—” Teremy started, but stopped. What was he supposed to say? One moment he was in Costa Del Sol chilling with his brother on the beach, and then the next moment he found himself sucked into a portal with only time to grab his clothes. Not even his trusty gunblade.

Joey tilted his head. “Here, come with me. My mistress, Reonora, also got summoned through the portal and I followed her here. She’s going to ask the Exarch some questions. He might have some answers for you too.”

‘Sure didn’t have any answers earlier.’ Teremy thought, but followed Joey anyway. Couldn’t hurt.

* * *

As it turned out, Teremy hadn’t been the only one who got dragged through a portal against his will—the entire Fortunes & Fancies crew—of which Teremy had correctly remembered as the catering crew at the dance audition—had been dragged here as well. The Crystal Exarch’s original aim was to find the fabled Warrior of Light, the one who had saved Eorzea time and time again alongside the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Somehow, this extended to a humble shopkeeper trying to make a living, and both her retainers. Well, Rosemary, anyway. Joey had followed Reonora here by reopening the portal, but only due to traces of energies. He couldn’t open the portal back. In other words, in an attempt to find the Warrior of Light, the Exarch had pulled in nearly every single Scion of the Seventh Dawn, and them too.

For Teremy, because the Exarch had a vision of some legendary hero that could pull a sword from the stone. Now all Teremy had was the sword… and the stone.

Teremy folded his arms and said nothing as he listened to everyone else talk. To his limited thug mental capabilities, he gathered that the Scions had scattered at various parts around this world, and the Leveilleur twins happened to be the easiest ones to reach. At least from the Crystarium. Speaking of twins. Teremy bitterly wondered how one of them thought if they learned the other had been hailed some chosen hero, yet they weren’t the one and now they’re stuck here. No, no point to think about that. Things happened for a reason. Even though Teremy wasn’t exactly sure as to what yet.

“We should split up.” Reonora concluded. “I can go to Eulmore to find Alphinaud.”

Teremy unfolded his arms and stepped forward. “Then I’ll go to Ahm Araeng to find Alisaie.”

Everyone, including the Exarch, looked at Teremy in surprise.

“Are you certain?” The Exarch asked. “‘Tis true you have been pulled from your homeworld against your will—and for that, I deeply apologise. But you’re welcome to stay in the Crystarium as long as you like. There’s no need for you to go out of your way for this trouble, especially after the trouble I have caused you.”

Teremy cracked his knuckles. “Sitting still makes me antsy. Destined hero or not, I might as well make myself useful.”

Reonora held Rosemary’s hand. The keeper had clearly chosen who she wanted to take with her. Though she looked at Teremy as she spoke. “Then please take Joey with you. He may not look like it, but he is a versatile all-rounder. He should be able to help you in any capacity you need.”

Joey performed an eastern bow. “I’ll do my best!”

Teremy placed his right fist in his left palm and bowed.

“Then it’s decided,” said the Exarch. “Please speak to the Amaro Keepers once you have fully prepared.”

The girls headed out first, followed by Teremy and Joey. As the seeker and his newfound companion headed to the Amarokeep, Teremy wondered what he was going to do with this sword and the stone combination. He quickly concluded that he’d just carry the thing around. If nothing else, having the feel of a gunblade made him feel better, even if half of its blade was rendered useless. All else fails, he had an interesting sword-mace and story to tell Jeremy when he got home.

If he got home.

* * *

The last time anyone saw any trace of Alisaie, she was last seen at the Inn at Journey’s Head. From Mord Souq, Teremy and Joey traveled south—Joey on a flying chair, Teremy on foot. He needed some time to work off his nervous energy.

The blazing hot sun beat down upon them. Occasionally Teremy felt breaths of cold coming from Joey’s own aura. At one glance, he saw a few ice cubes hovering around the lalafell. Magic really could do anything. Although Teremy felt the effects of extra heat from his black clothes, he welcomed that feeling right now. He needed that reminder that he was still alive.

Expected of a place that bared an eternal sun, the Fields of Amber gave home to some of the largest sabotenders Teremy had ever seen. Gigatenders, as the natives called them. The two also passed by varieties of turtles and moles, but none of them gave the two any extra trouble. As they continued south down a rocky ledge, Teremy placed his hands in his pockets. His fingers grazed upon aether-charged bullets. To think, he had the bullets but not an actual gunblade to fire them. His gunblade had been left behind at Costa Del Sol. All Teremy had left was this part blade mostly rock thing. Maybe he could fire off a round or two and a Burst Strike would blast the rock off. He pulled the gunblade from his back and slammed the rock into a nearby larger rock. All Teremy felt was the other rock shatter upon impact. That rock. Not the stone, that looked not even a grain out of place.

Joey jumped and squeaked. Had Teremy not been in such a sour mood, he would have thought the lalafell’s noise to be cute. “Everything okay?”

“Too much sun.” Teremy strapped the gunblade to his back.

“Here, have some cold.”

Teremy never asked for anything, but he felt a cold breeze slowly billow around him. The miqo’te smiled a little. “Hypothermia.”

“S-sorry!”

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh!” Joey placed a hand to his mouth. “A sarcastic type. I see.”

“Glad we understand each other. Thanks for the cold, though. Feels nice.”

Teremy held one hand over the horizon. How much farther was this inn anyway? What kind of inn could even survive in the middle of a desert?

Just when Teremy thought he saw a trickle of blue like an aetheryte crystal coming from between two large rock formations, he also saw a flash of white streak across the sky. Pure killing instinct. And from Joey hopping off of his chair, Teremy knew that the lalafell sensed it too.

What they saw was a sight they had never seen before—beings of pure white with angelic wings but forms of monsters screeching from the sky and diving down towards what looked like hyurs in rags.

“Those are Sin Eaters! We have to be care—”

Joey didn’t have time to finish his sentence, for Teremy already ran ahead at full speed. Imbuing his body with the power of wind, he ran faster than Joey’s lalafell legs could keep up. The miqo’te thought he heard things from the lalafell like “—ful.” “This guy…!” and “Wait!” but too late. Teremy had already committed the moment he saw someone in trouble. And soon, one of the sin eaters keeled back in the air from Teremy’s shoulder tackle. A reverse roundhouse kick to send the next one flying. And a quick burst of qi energy launched like a projectile to push away the last.

“You all right?” Teremy asked what appeared to be hyurs.

And indeed they were. Or whatever they were called in this world—Teremy forgot the explanation nor did he have time to care. His strikes had only served as a distraction. The sin eaters regained their senses quickly and dove again.

“Go, quickly! I’ll hold them off!” Teremy whirled around and grabbed the gunblade strapped to his back. Footsteps pattered behind him. Good.

One of the sin eaters took a large dive at him. Teremy swung his gunblade, except that the weight at the tip felt much heavier than usual—not enough to knock Teremy off balance, but enough to feel the weight of that attack. Rather than slash and slice, the stone still attached to the gunblade bludgeoned the sin eater. Good show but not exactly what he was looking for. Taking a chance, Teremy filled the revolver with one aether bullet, snapped the gunblade back into place, and fired.

Ka-thunk.

The recoil of a burst strike sent Teremy flying back. He skidded on the ground to prevent himself from falling. And yes, to answer his question, the stone remained perfectly intact. Putting the useless gunblade away, he resorted back to martial arts again. A shoulder tackle. A series of hand strikes to points usually vital to humans, but the sin eater didn’t seem to recoil in the same manner. Now what?

A flechette of magical swords impaling the sin eaters answered Teremy’s question. Immediately following the hailstorm came bolts of fire. A sudden bolt of lightning that shocked the sin eater to its core. A bolt of unaspected energy flecked them, followed by a large gust of wind to blow them off target. Teremy watched as a red blur collided onto the sin eater in front of him, but it was the sin eater that inevitably went flying from a impact spell with Joey’s open palm as a catalyst.

“Careful. These sin eaters can sire you into one of them if they feel like it,” said Joey.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Teremy called back. ‘Huh. Magic and martial arts together. Don’t see that every day. Cool.’

Teremy turned around, raising his fists in a fighting stance. Now he and Joey stood back to back.

Turned out that these three sin eaters weren’t alone. Another screech and more arrived. Joey flung spell after spell. Lightning to unaspected kinetic magic. Wind to unaspected kinetic magic that sent sin eaters flying away towards Teremy, causing the miqo’te’s strikes to collide even harder. But the more sin eaters they felled, the more came. The more strikes the duo dished out, the more sin eaters clawed their way. Teremy felt more irritated than winded—the miqo’te was just getting warmed up. But Joey, as befitting of a typical spellcaster, felt his stamina ebb away from him. It wasn’t long before the lalafell fell on his knees, panting, using vercure to heal his and Teremy’s wounds, but the same spell couldn’t cure for Joey’s exhaustion.

Although Teremy could rely on his martial arts to attack, his very instincts reached to his gunblade. He had to be there. He had to be the one in front, to protect the party. To protect the people behind him. To protect his companions.

To protect…

Teremy clenched his teeth. He had known the answer all along. He just didn’t want to see it. He pulled the gunblade from his back. “You know what? Fuck this. I made a vow upon my honor to protect others. Destiny can go to hell!”

With the hardest swing he could muster, Teremy smashed the blade’s stone prison against the rock wall.

CRACK.

The stone shattered. The sword’s blade gleamed in the light, shining brightly like a smile from its first taste of freedom. His grip on the handle never felt any better. As he swung, he felt like this blade was not a weapon, but an extension of his own arm. Moreso than any blade he had ever possessed.

“C’mon!” Teremy beckoned to the sin eaters as his battle aura flared twice as brightly.

He vaulted into the air and spun around, sword outstretched. The blade cut cleanly into the sin eaters’ flesh. Another spin cut even deeper. Sensing the danger that shifted from Teremy’s battle aura alone, the sin eaters now flew away from Joey and towards Teremy instead.

Joey struggled to stay on his feet just enough to see Teremy call all the sin eaters in the vicinity to himself. Even in his tired state, Joey noted just how much the miqo’te’s fighting style had changed. Although powerful and graceful before, Teremy’s moves flowed much more naturally. Much more gracefully. Like he now had the means to complete his purpose. Still, there had to be something Joey could do. He watched Teremy spin around to attack all the sin eaters at once. But that alone, was that enough?

“Teremy. I got an idea. I’m going to imbue your blade.”

Whether or not Teremy had heard Joey, the lalafell proceeded anyway. Using Teremy’s blade as a catalyst, the lalafell summoned magical fire onto the blade. When Teremy spun, a trail of fire followed, cutting and burning into the sin eaters’ flesh. With their combined attacks and another flechette hailstorm, the sin eaters collapsed to the ground. Their bodies dispersed into the air, never to be seen again.

Joey flopped to the ground and sat down, exhaling. Teremy, too, panted slightly and leaned on the wall. The miqo’te laughed. Then Joey. And soon, the tension from the battle subsided from laughter of genuine relief.

“That was a good idea with the fire thing.” Teremy pointed the blade of his sword upwards and turned it with a flick of his wrists, reflecting light from the sun. “I’ll have to remember that technique for myself.”

“And you… you freed the sword from the stone,” said Joey.

Teremy stared at the black side of his blade. “I did, didn’t I? Heh… rather than be chosen, I forced my way, you could say.”

“Sometimes destiny is what we choose for ourselves,” said Joey. “Maybe the stone knew that.”

“Or I hit the damn thing too hard for its liking. Yeah. I’ll go with that story. Fate splintering off into the great unknown thanks to me.” Teremy strapped the gunblade to his back. “C’mon. Let’s go find Alisaie.”

As the two headed into the Inn at Journey’s Head, Teremy felt a wave of relief tide over him. Now he understood why he had been called to Norvrandt. There were people who needed saving and people he had to protect. He didn’t need to be chosen to protect others. He had already decided long ago what he wanted to do.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #FFxivWrite2020

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sworn-unbeliever · 4 years

Text

01 - Crux

((While the dialogue is all made up, this event is based off of a true story. This incident is also what inspired Teremy to take up tanking in the first place and is important to him. Since this event took place during ARR, I mentioned Flash instead of Total Eclipse for the gladiator. Hope it’s okay!))

wc: 1411

"What in the Twelve's name are you doing, gladiator? Thinking, even?!" the party's thaumaturge snapped. "Gather all the enemy's attention to yourself! Not just the one!"

The thaumaturge's words fell upon deaf ears. The party's gladiator continued his assault against the one lone pirate as though engaged in a one on one duel. The pirates snorted at the thaumaturge as he ran past the gladiator. "Pfft. Like ye fancy us mindless drones. The real threat ain't that tin can with the rusty scrotum. It'd be this lovely lass here! Wouldn't you agree, lads?"

Like in agreement, the gladiator turned around. "My wounds need healing!"

The party's conjurer, who stood a good distance away from the gladiator, widened her eyes. She clutched her staff, her breathing quickly escalating. Her eyes darted between not the gladiator's foe, but the other two he had yet to account for. "You... you seem as lively as ever--"

"Do your job or we shall all perish!"

The conjurer shut her eyes and whimpered. As much as she wanted to deny the gladiator, she had no choice. She squinted one eye, wincing, and raised a trembling free hand and staff into ready positions. As though she had waited until the gladiator's wounds had reached critical point before doing anything, knowing exactly what would happen if she did. But now she had no choice. She had to do something. She hunched over, her robes slashed, tattered, and stained in dark crimson, as a faint glow emitted from the end of her staff. An equally faint glow of energy fell upon the gladiator, refreshing his wounds.

And just like the conjurer expected, that one brief glimpse of a flash had brought the attention of the other two pirates. Not any from the gladiator. Her.

The other two pirates quickly turned their attention away from the tunneling gladiator and beelined towards the conjurer. Whimpering again, the girl clutched her staff and shut her eyes tightly to brace herself for the upcoming attack. "Please someone... anyone... make them go away..."

That attack never came.

Instead, she opened her eyes at the sound of a loud whump and thwack in front of her. When the conjurer looked up, she saw Teremy Itsubishi, the party's pugilist, standing over the unconscious bodies of the pirates that had tried to attack her.

"You all right?" Teremy asked.

The conjurer nodded. "Y-yes. Thank you."

Teremy nodded slightly and turned his head towards the gladiator. Now with the threat of three pirates down, the gladiator charged off towards the next set. Again, the gladiator engaged in a duel with the solo. And again, Teremy ran to the conjurer's aid. To the first foe, a grab. A quick chop to the arm to disable him. A short-ranged but powerful punch that sent the pirate sailing back and crashing into the ground, never to stand again. To the other foe, a back kick to send him flying to his comrade. By the time the gladiator had finished his duel with the Thaumaturge breathing fire out of his rod and mouth as a back-up, Teremy had already taken care of the threats that dared touch the conjurer.

"Flash! You should be aware of this technique by now!" the thaumaturge snapped. "Render the enemies blind and keep the attention to you!"

As though dignifying a response was more important than actually fighting enemies, the gladiator whirled around to face the thaumaturge. "It's the conjurer's fault for drawing the enemy's ire to herself!"

The conjurer bit her lip. She bowed her head and clutched her staff so tightly, it looked as though her hands would bleed along with her wounds. Though the thaumaturge spewed more obscenities towards the gladiator, Teremy had heard enough. The pugilist had spent the entire party protecting the conjurer, rather than the gladiator, who spend the entire party reliving his colisseum days. There to fight enemies. Prisoners. Single opponents. The more Teremy thought about the juxtaposition between what a gladiator should be versus what he had actually been hired to be: a sellsword to protect his allies, the more Teremy felt a raging fire deep within him. He clenched his fist. He couldn't take this gladiator's behaviour any longer. Teremy marched up to the gladiator, pushed on the gladiator's shoulder to whirl him around, and sent one good slug at the gladiator's jaw. If not for a well-crafted helmet, the gladiator would have fallen unconscious by the time he finished reeling over. Instead, a good fist-sized dent laid on the side of the helm where Teremy's fist had done its deed.

"I can't believe you. You're a gladiator!" Teremy cried. "Your guildmaster stressed the importance of protecting others! But you've made clear that since you've come in here, the only one you've cared to protect was yourself."

The gladiator pulled himself up and dusted himself off. He stood straight and glared down at the pugilist. Teremy folded his arms. He was not backing down. Not while he was knew he was right. Not while he had spent the entire party proving he was right. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the gladiator spoke.

"Are you done?"

Teremy glowered. "No. We still have to clear our objective."

Without waiting for the gladiator to respond or even pull ahead, Teremy walked ahead of the party. If pirates or any kind of danger ran their way, he'd welcome them. Despite his lack of armor. Despite his ability to draw the ire of multiple to himself. The point of the matter was that the gladiator had been assigned to this party to protect everyone and he had failed to do so. Teremy was doing the gladiator's job for him. Whatever came their way, whatever the Gladiator had not paid personal attention to fell upon the conjurer. To which Teremy was ready. And not a single extra hand had laid been on the conjurer, not with Teremy's fists leaving any threat near-dead on arrival.

The party couldn't have found their objective fast enough: a set of maps that had been stolen by pirates. Once the thaumaturge stuffed the maps in his possession, the party turned tail and fled Satasha before any pirates intercepted them on the way out. For once since the party started, the gladiator took charge. Once out, the gladiator continued to run and fled, never to be seen again.

The thaumaturge shrugged. "Whatever in the nine hells that was--ah, forget it. Not worth any more of my energy. I'm handing these back to the client. I'll put in a good word for two-" he gestured to Teremy and the conjurer, "-and not that useless hunk of metal wherever he went. I'm out."

Magical energies gathered around the thaumaturge. Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

Now Teremy stood alone with the conjurer. The pugilist found himself folding his arms and staring awkwardly at the conjurer's collarbone as he racked his brain to find anything to say. Should he ask how she was doing? Would that be patronizing? Congratulate her on getting out in one piece? Thankfully for Teremy's lack of social graces, the conjurer spoke first. She turned to him and bowed. "Thank you for protecting me back there."

Teremy stared at the conjurer and blinked. He hadn't been expecting to be thanked. He smiled a little and saluted. "Don't worry about it. Stay safe," he said and went his own way back to Limsa Lominsa. On foot. He could sure use some alone time after that experience.

***

Teremy's story of his Satasha incident could have ended there, but it didn't.

The moment he returned to Limsa Lominsa, he marched to the upper decks, eyes forward and focused. While his mind showed him images of his childhood - images of Teremy protecting merchants from bandits alongside his brother, images of Teremy shoving his brother out of Leviathan's way and getting swallowed up in his brother's stead, those thoughts served not as a distraction, but as reinforcement to his decision.

He had made up his mind. When he had arrived in Ul'dah, then came to Limsa Lominsa, Teremy had drifted aimlessly, not sure of his place in life. But that incident in Satasha had served as an epiphany. Now he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

"You want a job done right, do it yourself. If no one will protect the party, then I will," Teremy said to himself as he flung open the double doors to the Marauder's Guild.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2020 #final fantasy xiv

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