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1.4 True Colors
G'raha and I'nara walked side by side, both focused on where they put their feet, lost in their own thoughts.
When she appeared at the campfire, his heart had just about stopped, and only partially because they'd been caught talking about her. She was a vision of grace and beauty, appearing from the fire-lit darkness in a very short dress, the hem of which rode high on her thighs, her legs bare to the warm, flickering firelight... he'd forced himself to focus on her face, but even that didn't help, with her hair piled atop her head, revealing her neck and the crook of her shoulder and gods how he wanted... needed... to bite... He'd offered a silent prayer of thanks to the Twelve that she commanded the attention of all just by her presence. It gave him the moment he needed to adjust himself surreptitiously.
When she'd spoken of the Waking Sands tragedy, he'd fixated on every word... and when Torbas... it was all G'raha could do to keep from growling aloud again at the memory of his anger. He was not a violent man by nature, but in that moment, if he'd been within reach, he'd have beaten Torbas unconscious just to keep his vitriol from hurting her. G'raha shook his head. He still couldn't believe the gall of that man.
He recalled the thrill of awe that had swept through him as she stood up for herself against him. The spike of fear he'd felt when he thought she would leave... and the warmth of pride that flooded his heart when she put Torbas in his place and won a voluntary apology from him.
He glanced sideways at her as they walked. She was looking at the ground, her arms wrapped around herself. Oh! Her injuries...
"How are you feeling?"
"Tired. Restless. I feel like I'm failing everyone."
G'raha gently grasped I'nara's arm and stopped walking, turning her to face him. "I'nara, stop." She stared at the ground between them, so he slipped a finger under her chin, lifting her face so she had to look up at him. The deep sadness he found in her eyes broke his heart, and he wanted so much to wrap her in his arms and keep the sadness from ever reaching her.
"You are one person. An amazing, remarkable one, but still," he shrugged, "just one person."
"I know," she responded with a sigh. "Logically, I realize I can't save everyone, but everything in me screams that if I push just a little harder, a little further... maybe I really can. Sometimes I wish..." She hesitated, and looked away. "I wish that I'd never answered Hydaelyn's call."
G'raha had the distinct impression that she'd been about to say something else, and gave her a searching look. "You can't blame yourself for the world being a shitty place, I'nara. Imagine how much worse it would be without you! It doesn't bear thinking about. You aren't failing anyone, I promise."
"I guess..." She sounded doubtful.
"Well, I know, so we'll be going with the Sharlayan scholar's learned opinion." He smirked at her, and turned, guiding her to continue walking. He could feel her eyes on him, and his tail curled towards her of its own volition.
"Hmph. There's that cocky prankster I met in the Shroud," she commented, her lips twitching upward. His ears wiggled, and a smile won out, her face lighting up. His heart skipped a beat.
"Cocky? I'll have you know that is one hundred percent, grade-A Sharlayan confidence that you have been graced with!" His tail swished behind him; he was enjoying the banter.
"Is that what that was? Confidence? Or conceit. I wonder," she taunted. "Hm. Now that I think about it, that certainly explains Alphinaud, then."
G'raha schooled his expression into polite interest. "That's the second time you've mentioned him. Are the two of you close?"
I'nara's eyebrow quirked upward as she regarded him curiously. "You're counting?" G'raha blushed and I'nara relented, shrugging. "We're friends. No more or less than any of the other Scions, I suppose. His sister, Alisaie, is more my speed, I think. She is walking a path separate from her brother, but I've worked with her on a side project of sorts."
"What does that mean, 'more your speed'?"
"Oh, just that she and I are a lot alike. We're more action-before-words, while Alphinaud is words-before-more words, then some action if yet more words won't suffice." She giggled. "If anything, I'd say Alisaie has sort of become like a little sister to me... so I guess that'd make Alphinaud like a little brother."
"Leveilleur!" The word burst from G'raha in sudden recognition, startling I'nara.
"...Gods bless you...?" she quipped.
He shook his head. "Sorry. I just realized why their names were so familiar. They're Alphinaud and Alisaie Leveilleur, of Old Sharlayan. I didn't realize that they'd left Sharlayan, let alone joined the Scions. Although, now that I consider it, given who their grandfather was, I shouldn't be surprised at all."
"Well, you'd know more about their grandfather than I. I know he performed some grand heroic feat that resulted in his death, but I am not up on the details, and there just never seems to be enough time to ask. The people here in Eorzea are far better acquainted with the ins and outs of the Calamity. We suffered it in Meracydia, but weren't exactly privy to the details. We were simply left with the aftermath."
"You're from Meracydia? I thought the continent was inaccessible. Is your family still there?" G'raha's eagerness to hear more broadcast in the wiggling of his ears.
I'nara's own ears flattened against her head, and she looked away. "There is nothing left for me there," she said softly. They'd stopped walking, having long since reached her tent, but he'd been so caught up in their conversation that he hadn't quite been paying attention.
His ears wilted at the abrupt wall he'd hit with their conversation. Rubbing at his right wrist with his left hand, a nervous habit of his, his mind scrambled for some way to pick up the thread of conversation, to draw this time with her out as long as he could. Realizing that he was being selfish, he sighed.
"I... I'd meant your wounds, earlier," he said, going back to the beginning. They were at her tent, and if she were in pain and tired, she probably would prefer to be rid of him so that she might rest.
I'nara blinked up at him in confusion. "What?"
"When I'd asked how you were feeling, before." He gestured vaguely back the way they'd come, and her gaze followed the gesture before returning to his face. It took a moment for her to connect the dots, but she got there at last.
"Oh! Oh. They're fine. They twinge a bit if I move the wrong way, but it's nothing."
"Ah. Good. Good. I could fetch Dorna for you. Even if they don't hurt, you mentioned you were tired... " He was starting to babble. He knew it and couldn't stop it, but he froze when she placed a finger against his lips. Suddenly, everything in him focused on that one singular point of contact between them, and he stilled, looking down at her.
Her lips quirked upward in an exasperated half-smile. "You talk a lot when you're nervous," she observed. "You don't have to be nervous." He felt the heat of a blush suffusing his face, but he remained still. "I am tired, yes, but more restless than that. Would you care to join me on a walk, G'raha?" She dropped her finger away from his lips.
His lips tingled in the absence of her touch and his tongue slipped out to wet them. He nodded. "I would love to," he whispered, and his heart melted at the smile she gave him. It was an odd sort of smile, her lips pressed together. The sort of smile one might give when taking someone into one's confidence. A smile of sharing. A smile just for him. Her eyes sparkled, and he smiled in return. Turning as one, they strolled off into the darkness beyond the camp. They walked in silence for a time, and it was I'nara who broke it.
"My tribe is dead." G'raha looked over at her, startled. "In my travels around Eorzea, I've found a few former Buffalo tribe Miqo'te, but my father's tribe... they're dead. I survived because I can't sit still for very long. I live because I wasn't there when they died. Or maybe they died because I wasn't there." She shrugged her discomfit.
"I was fourteen when the Calamity happened and I wandered for a time, fending for myself, afterwards. I was a devastated and very angry sixteen-year-old when a saint of a woman, Dara Mhira, took me in, gave me succor. She was a seemingly bottomless well of patience, and she gave me the guidance I needed to find my way beyond the anger and into acceptance. Dara often told me that with time, the sharp edges of my pain would dull, and the haunting memories that plagued me would soften to bittersweet remembrances. I tried. Azeyma knows I tried. But, five years after I had lost everything and everyone that I loved, those razor edges continued to slice paper-thin cuts into my heart. Everywhere I looked, I saw the faces of my lost tribe. My family and friends, people that I knew. Places that they had lived and hunted. Their ghosts haunted me no matter where I tried to bury them. Eventually, I concluded that the near constant pang of grief would never ease while I remained surrounded by those memories.
"So, I packed up my few belongings, said my goodbyes to Dara, and set out, intending to find some place far from what was familiar. I came to a harbor, a port, when I found the ocean, and thinking that I couldn't possibly find something farther from familiar than whatever lay across the water, I secured passage for myself on a vessel sailing for Vylbrand. Upon reaching the city of Limsa Lominsa, however, I realized my grand scheme to carve out a new life for myself in a new land was not so easy as simply getting on a boat, but... during that time, I heard the Mothercrystal call to me... and for better or worse, I answered." She looked to G'raha and shrugged. "She's guided me ever since, and here we are."
G'raha looked down at her, his expression somber. "I'm sorry for your loss," he murmured. She nodded her thanks, climbing up onto a rock and taking a seat. She patted the space beside her. He climbed up and sat next to her. "Did it work? Getting away from the reminders?"
She looked up at the stars, considering his words. "I'd have to say yes, for the most part. I still miss them terribly, and think about them often, but they don't haunt me like they used to. Only when I'm not..." she paused, but he knew what she wanted to say.
"Only when you think you're not good enough, or fast enough to save someone are you so painfully reminded of what you've lost." He looked at her, his expression knowing, but his eyes soft, kind. "You blame yourself for your family's death."
She flushed pink. "Well, not only at those times, but it does seem to hit the hardest then." She looked down, shrugging. "I know. Who doesn't have a similar sob story. Especially after the Calamity."
"Stop that," G'raha said firmly, nudging her with his shoulder to soften the tone. "Just because others might have similar situations and motivations doesn't make yours any less valid. Look, what I'm saying is don't forget your past, your pain. But don't make it your life. There's so much more to living than that."
I'nara pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her chin on them. "You rather sound like Admiral Bloefhiswyn."
"You know the leader of Limsa Lominsa?" G'raha sounded impressed.
"Yeah. One of the perks of being the Warrior of Light is getting to meet heads of state."
"Oh, right. Of course. I forgot about that whole Warrior business." She gave him that secret smile again, and his heart skipped a beat.
"Thank you for that."
He'd forget his own name just to see her smile at him like that again, he decided. "So, I sound like the Admiral?"
I'nara snorted. "Yeah. It was something that she said once, during a speech. You reminded me of it. She said, 'No victory, however sweet, can wash away our bitter sorrows. No triumph can reclaim those we lost. Yet do not presume you honor them by dwelling on the past. It was not the past they fought for. You would repay their sacrifice by looking to the future.'"
"Huh. Smart woman."
"That's probably why she's in charge of Limsa Lominsa."
"And you think I sound like her?"
I'nara gave him a sidelong look, an eyebrow raised. "What you said, yeah..."
"I'm flattered."
I'nara hummed noncommittally and looked up at the stars again, letting the conversation lapse into silence. G'raha watched her for a moment, then reached into a pouch, pulling out a crystal. He glanced at the glyph etched upon it, then focused, summoning forth the aether within. A lute materialized in place of the crystal, and he took his time checking the tuning. Finally happy with it, he absently plucked notes and chords, a song forming as he looked up at the stars. He could feel her eyes on him, and he found that he liked it.
"What about you?"
"Hm?" His gaze dropped from the heavens to the angel beside him. He smiled at the thought, though a teeny, tiny voice in the back of his mind told him he needed to get control of himself, that whatever he was hoping for couldn't possibly happen. Not with a woman like her. Not for a guy like him. He told the voice to hush.
"What's your story? Mom and dad back home somewhere, proud of their obviously accomplished," she gestured to his Archon mark, "scholarly son?"
"Ah, no. Not quite. Well... I don't know, actually. Maybe?" His fingers stilled on the lute and he shrugged. "That was as confusing for me as I'm sure it was for you. Let me clarify."
I'nara shifted, turning her whole body to face him, her legs tucked beneath her as she leaned forward, eager to hear his tale. Her attention was wholly upon him, her eyes fixed upon his face as she waited for him to speak. He found himself mesmerized by the surreal, luminous glow of her face, lit as it was by starlight and crystal. When he remembered he was supposed to be saying something, he blushed, dropping his gaze to gather his thoughts.
"To explain my history to you, let me take you back several thousand years, to the Allagan Empire."
I'nara leaned back, eyebrows rising. "You're not about to tell me you are thousands of years old." The tone of her voice dared him to refute her statement. He laughed.
"No, I claim only twenty-four years. But my obsession... and yes, I freely admit it's an obsession... with the Allagan Empire is not purely academic. You see, while I was raised in Sharlayan, I was born in Corvos." He paused to emphasize the significance of the statement, but she continued to stare at him expectantly, and he realized the revelation meant nothing to her. "Ah, Meracydia, right. Forgive me. Thousands of years ago, ancient Allags brought several tribes of Miqo'te to the island of Corvos as slaves." She didn't move, and yet suddenly, she exuded an aura of... disapproval. He frowned at her, trying to figure out how she was doing it.
"I'm listening," she prompted.
"Just so. Well, during the Empire's last years, the Allag princess, Salina, entrusted my ancestor with safekeeping the royal bloodline. As a result, occasionally, his descendants would be born with a red eye," G'raha flicked a finger towards his own. "The Allagan Eye, it's called, and it's a sign of this legacy."
I'nara frowned at him. "I think I have more questions now than when you started."
G'raha grinned. "Why do you think I've devoted my studies to ancient Allag? I've got a lot of questions, too. More than I have answers for, certainly."
"Mhm."
"During the Fifth Umbral Era, the Age of Endless Frost, many of the Miqo'te tribes left Corvos for Eorzea, but my tribe remained, choosing to protect the Allagan technology there from being misused."
"A noble use of a rather suspect legacy."
"You think my legacy is suspect?"
"You don't? Come on... giving the safeguarding of the royal bloodline over to slaves? Living, breathing, thinking, feeling creatures that they don't see as people, but property? Maybe that tracks, but I am still suspicious. I am biased against them, though. I suspect the intentions of any civilization that is morally corrupt enough to condone the use of slavery."
"Fair point. Anyway, fast forward to my birth, the first in several generations to bear the Allagan Eye. It made for a rather... uncomfortable childhood."
"Uncomfortable? In what way?"
"Having different colored eyes in my tribe had become quite rare... and well," he shrugged diffidently. "Children can be quite cruel."
"What? Really? It's not... it wasn't... overly common in my tribe, but it was widely held that a child born with different colored eyes was destined for great things. It was celebrated, not ridiculed." I'nara rolled her eyes. "Children are... well... children. Though I suppose it's pointless to tell a child to ignore other children. Might as well tell the stars to cease shining." She waved a hand towards the sky. "You're not a child anymore, however, so I will happily tell you to take it from a fellow Miqo'te with disparate eyes: you are destined for greatness, G'raha Tia. I believe it with every fiber of my being, and since I'm the Warrior of Light, we'll be going with my opinion on that," she teased. She placed a hand on his forearm and gave it a squeeze. He stared down at it, a shy smile tugging his lips upward.
"I will defer to your expert opinion, then," he said, his eyes meeting hers and holding there, caught in the magnetism of her gaze. Time spun out around them as they looked into each other's eyes, until finally, I'nara prompted him to continue.
"You haven't explained yet how you don't know if your parents are proud of you," she murmured huskily, unwilling to look away from his burning gaze. Heat gathered in her core.
"Yeah..." he sighed, content to stay as he was. Her words finally sank in, and he blinked. "Right. Right! Sorry. Um... the Garlean Empire came sniffing around, of course. They conquered Corvos, and the Imperial House Darnus began a search for Allagan relics. My father, fearing that we, and our connection, would be discovered, he buried all ties to ancient Allag. As the bearer of the Eye, I was in particular danger, so he gave custody of me over to a friend of his within the Students of Baldesion. Hence, I was raised in Sharlayan and have had no contact with my tribe since."
"You've not been back, not even for research?"
"No. I'd love to, believe me, but I can't risk it with Corvos being an Imperial province now."
Her expression was sad for a moment, then she looked up with a wicked grin on her face, her fangs showing. "Want me to go beat up some Garleans?"
G'raha looked startled, then barked out a laugh. "That's tempting, but I think we'll put a pin in that, for now, thank you. Besides," he gazed down at her, his eyes warm. "I'm more than happy with what's in front of me."
The way he looked at her, the way he'd said the words, made I'nara feel that he wasn't necessarily referring to the tower, and the heat that had ignited in her core flared. She blushed, and looked down at her hands. Her tail curled and uncurled on the rock beside her. "Between the Sentinels and the Labyrinth, you and your fellow researchers should have your hands full while I recover. Once Dorna gives me a clean bill of health, I'll tackle the tower, and you'll have your heart's desire."
"Maybe not my heart's desire." His voice was pitched lower than usual, and the fire that burned in her core coiled deep, her body tingling. She shivered, but not from cold.
Looking up at him through her lashes, I'nara's heart pounded in her chest, and her lips parted, her tongue slipping out to wet them. He did the same. Gods, he was so close. She had no idea what to do with what she was feeling, so... she changed the subject.
Shifting her seat again, she moved back to sitting beside him, though closer this time, their legs just barely touching. "Are you going to use that thing, or just hold it?"
"What?" he blinked, frowning.
She looked pointedly at his hands, then back up at him.
"Ah. Right." Disappointment welled up within him, and the tiny voice that he had hushed spoke up once again. Well, what did you expect? Less polite, he told it to shut up, swallowed the bitterness down, and nodded his head once to his friend beside him. "As the lady wishes." He plucked at the strings for a moment, thinking, then began to play. His voice, when it joined the lute, was soft, but earnest.
You with the sad eyes
Don't be discouraged, oh I realize
It's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
The darkness inside you
Can make you feel so smallShow me a smile then
Don't be unhappy
Can't remember when
I last saw you laughing
This world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
Just call me up
'Cause I will always be thereAnd I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you...
His fingers stilled on the strings, his breath held. He hadn't meant those words to come out, but it was the song and they did, and he waited for some reaction from her. When none was forthcoming, he returned to the song and was surprised when she joined her voice to his, harmonizing. His heart leapt when she sang those three little words, too. The voice in his mind warned him against reading too much into song lyrics, and he ignored it, hope rekindling in his heart.
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautifulI see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love youSo don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful
Like a rainbow