Final Fantasy XIV

Summary

The strain of holding it together was getting to Alisaie. Set in early Shadowbringers.

The strain of holding it together was getting to Alisaie.

Okay, she might have lost her temper a bit with the Crystal Exarch when she first arrived on the Source’s reflection. That was understandable, though, as she had been pulled from battle—forced to leave the Warrior of Light just when she was needed most. Yes, she had been most displeased, and had let the Crystal Exarch know with precise words.

But since then, she had tried to act like everything was fine. Operative word: try.

She agreed with the others that they should do all they could to help the First while they were stuck there. So she learned all she could of this new-to-her world, and set out doing patrols in Lakeland. She actually was grateful for the work: it kept her mind off the predicament she was in.

When the Exarch suggested she go to Amh Araeng and ascertain the situation there, she didn’t protest. Not verbally, anyway. She kept her face pleasant and agreed to attend to the task, but inside she was fuming. She wanted to BE THERE when the Exarch finally succeeded in summoning the Warrior, to look at the face of her dear friend and know all was right.

Alisaie was sure she had successfully tamped her temper, but with her nod of acquiescence, something softened in the Exarch’s features—what she could see of them, anyway. She felt a flush start to crawl up her neck, and steeled herself as best as she could. She tried telling herself that there was a WORLD to save, and that surely the Warrior would be fine, but her heart was longing to be home, where she belonged. Not here. Not in this world, without her dear friend.

She turned and left before the Crystal Exarch could say anything more, retreating to her room. There she set about packing for her journey. She was just packing some rations when there was a knock on her door.

“Alisaie?” called the voice of her twin.

She sighed, then opened the door. “What is it?”

“Are you all right?” At her glare, he said, “I know this is hard for you—”

“I’m FINE, Alphinaud. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish packing, and go talk to Moren to learn more of Amh Araeng.” She turned back to her rucksack.

She could practically hear her twin thinking. A pause, and then he said, “The Warrior of Light—”

“—is also fine, I’m sure. Really, Alphinaud. You’ve been fluttering about me like a mother hen ever since I arrived here. Don’t you have business to attend to in Kholusia?”

He actually winced. “Yes, of course. Do be careful, won’t you?” And he took his leave.

Alisaie closed the door as he departed, then turned and leaned against it. She blew her bangs out of her face in a frustrated sigh. Am I that obvious? She had tried to pretend she had everything in control, but it seemed she was failing.

From time to time, she could forget her predicament. She’d developed a routine since arriving—breakfast with Alphinaud, lessons with Moren, lunch at the Wandering Stairs, patrols in the afternoon. She’d move from place to place without thought, losing herself in the new familiarity, but she could feel the way the strain was affecting her: a quicker tempo while walking, shallower breathing, the terrible insomnia…

It was too much.

It started with a single tear, but soon she was sobbing. She threw herself on the bed and punched at her pillow. It wasn’t FAIR. It wasn’t right. She should be there, with her dearest friend, not here, gods only know how many malms and malms away…

Eventually, the crying stopped. Her breath became steady once more.

“Got that out of your system, then?” she said aloud to herself.

Right. She had to go see Moren…

Alisaie had arrived at Mord Souq, the market in Amh Araeng’s eastern desert. She looked around, holding a hand up over her eyes to shield them from the sun, and looked for someone friendly-looking to ask inquiries of.

There, by one of the merchants. A blonde woman in a long gray tunic, examining the fruit. Alisaie had the impression that she was a helpful sort. She walked over to the woman, and said, “Excuse me. I’m new in town, and was wondering about the situation in this area of Norvrandt.”

The woman looked up from the fruit and studied her, then said, “You’ve lost someone.”

“How—”, Alisaie began, surprised, then ducked her head. Quietly, she continued. “How did you know?”

“It’s written all over your face. It can help to talk about it. I’m Tesleen, by the way,” she said, then gestured at the nearby tables the market had for those sampling the food wares.

Alisaie looked at the tables. She heaved a sigh, then said, “All right.”

They sat down. Tesleen’s face softened in the same way the Exarch’s had as she said, “Now then. Was their passing hard?”

“They haven’t—”, she blurted. She stopped herself, took a breath, then started again. “We’re merely separated.”

“I see,” Tesleen said, her face still soft. “Was it… was it a hard breakup?”

“It’s not like that!” Alisaie protested. And then she began to tell the story.

In a way, it DID feel good to talk about it. She’d been trying to hide her emotions from everyone, afraid to burden them with what she was truly feeling.

She hadn’t wanted to tell Alphinaud—her twin would have thought her childish. Thancred was off somewhere with Minfilia, and anyway, while she trusted him in battle and an ally, she dare not trust him with her feelings. Y’Shtola was busy with the Night’s Blessed, and Urianger with his books in Il Mheg, though she rather suspected he would had given her a comforting ear. And she was still too angry with the Exarch to confide in him.

That had left—no one, but herself. But all the psyching up she did, assuring herself it would be FINE, that everything was okay, hadn’t worked.

In truth, she was a mess.

She had finished her story, and now sat there, head bowed, studying her clasped hands.

Tesleen reached out and laid a hand gently over Alisaie’s. “Thank you for trusting me with your story,” she said softly. Alisaie looked up at that, and Tesleen gave her a small smile. “I’m sure you’ll see your friend again.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Alisaie said.

“No. But I can hope. And it is my wish for you to hope as well.”

“I couldn’t. If the worst should happen—”

“—you’d survive, and carry on. I can tell you’re a survivor, Alisaie. Like me.” Tesleen smiled that gentle smile again. “It is my hope of easing the pain of others that keeps me going. Surviving. Let your hope of seeing your friend again carry you forward.”

Carry me forward. “I’m not sure where ‘forward’ is,” she admitted.

“You came to Amh Araeng for a reason. To ‘scope out the situation’, or something like that?”

Alisaie nodded.

“So do what you came to do. Everyday, live with purpose, and let hope guide your path.”

Alisaie sat still for a moment, then said, “Can you tell me the situation here?”

Tesleen’s laugh was bright. “I can do more than that. I can give you purpose. Something to lose yourself in when hope isn’t enough.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. From what you said, you sound like quite the warrior yourself. We could use someone like you at the Inn.”

Purpose. It’s a start. A start past the unyielding pain and emptiness. She felt a flicker of hope kindle in her heart then. She wasn’t quite ready to hope for that deepest desire, but she could at least hope for a purposeful tomorrow.

Notes

Written for FFXIV Write's Day 8 prompt: STRAIN