A Shard Complete

- A Shard Replete -

A ray of light briefly grazes across Zero’s face, momentarily blinding her despite her closed eyes. Then again, and again; all in rapid succession. With the help of tree branches from outside, light and dark find the means to dance delicately with one another. Their performance casts erratic patterns throughout the rooms of the Szal residence.

Zero’s cheeks feel the warmth of the day. It must be late in the morning for the sun to feel so active. She shifts around a bit and moues as she struggles to orient herself beneath the thin sheets, all while trying to protect her vision. She murmurs as she places a palm above her brow, sits up, and tries to stabilize herself.

Zero pauses mentally, trying to make sense of her surroundings as she tries to blink awake. Once her sight starts to return, she can see an empty spot on the bed to her left. It seems that Shu is already awake and off somewhere. To her right, Sachi is curled up into a ball beneath several blankets with pillows covering her head. Her arm protrudes from the tower of fabric. It is still, unlike the blankets atop her. Her breathing is slow and peaceful, suggesting she's still sleeping off the drinks from last night.

Zero looks forward, aiming to harness enough willpower to get out of bed. The faint rustling of leaves can be heard. The noise should be enough to escape without disturbing Sachi, but not enough to get dressed. She believes her current sleepwear should be sufficient enough for now though. Plus, she doesn’t know what the day will entail just yet. Well, aside from the hope that she’ll enjoy it. A strange notion that is to her, considering the life she lived for oh so long prior.

She sinks into a form of comfort at the prospect of what awaits. Unintentionally, she takes in the smells wafting into the bedroom through the open doorway: wax, the burning of a wick, a faint scent of vanilla and incense permeating the air. Each aroma carries with it a harmony within the home. No scent overpowers the others, but each unique enough on its own to be distinguishable. Metaphorically, they each contribute to a whole, almost a poetic parallel for how the household seems to operate.

Zero slides down and off the mattress, creaking the surrounding frame ever so slightly. She slips into a pair of open-toed slippers, adjusts her borrowed nightgown, and makes for the doorway. A decent opportunity to learn of the place, she assumes. As she passes the threshold and steps down into the room, she feels exposed and uncertain. Maybe the comfort and familiarity of bedroom isn’t so bad after? Though she has been in the den before, she’s usually occupied by the company of others. But now, the company is her own.

She surveys the room in front of her before cautiously heading over to an array of pictures by the stairs, adjacent to the door leaving the bedroom. From there, she can retreat if need be, as well as hear if anyone is coming downstairs. Instead of putting her back to the wall however, she steps back and gets drawn in by the arrangement next to her. She slowly traces her fingers across the grooves of the frames. She is in awe of the material, to the vibrant life that the Source must have to allow for such creations. Not just the frames, but the entirety of the room. There are stained and lacquered woods everywhere: the flooring, pillars, shelves, tables, and desks. Gold and copper inlays accent nearly all the furnishings that eyes can see.

Unlike the lifeless structures Zero saw at Garlemald, or the adorned clays at Radz-at-Han, the interior is just as much alive as it is dead. She finds an odd, yet poetic, beauty in how the wood finds new purpose while remaining true to its natural origins. Literally “natural,” as the home is further decorated by assorted plants and stained-glass imagery of fields and trees, all built on top of organized and layered stone. A curious aesthetic, indeed, where one can see an end as a new beginning. It is almost a lesson in disguise: a kindling for purpose, while staying respectful to oneself.

Zero steps back even farther, allowing her eyes to scan across the arrangement of frames. There are seven total, six in wavy row with one, larger than the rest, off-center above them. The paintings appear almost as if they intend to tell a story, one through scenery as there is nary a living being drawn betwixt them.

Starting from the left-most: there are trees casting shadows, rays of light illuminating mossy boulders, and a stream weaving between them all. The paintings after carry mostly the same narrative tone through the strong use of contrasts. They are mostly dark in color with emphasis on the natural scenery. One is of a desert with a deserted settlement off in a corner. The next is a beach with desolate huts battered by storms. Another... snowy crags and some collapsed stone structures off in the distance. A civilization potentially lost to what one can assume is war. However, the two right-most almost abruptly transition to focus on civilization itself, though not of the same society. The second to last conveys the existence of what appears to be a city made of glass, with curiously sharp and distinct shadows practically accentuating the very nature of broken glass. The last: a city of bright white stone overlooking a large expanse of water without end. The shadows are limited to what the architecture itself would cast.

Above them all, between the paintings of wilderness and civilization, is one larger than the rest and of what appears to be a sanctum of sorts bearing 12 symbols. The building seems to be rather well kept despite being nestled deep in woods and tangle. The painting almost acts like junction point, as well as a union of the concepts below. Are these memories? Experiences? Is it right to dwell on their significance?

Before Zero can answer her own question, a clink of metal against glass breaks her concentration and pulls her to “now,” the present. It is Shu tapping a quill against an inkwell over at a work table. The solitude is broken, but not betrayed as no words are exchanged. The nib resumes its scratching against paper; its echoing throughout the room seems to have merely been drowned out by thought and the zephyr-induced whispering of leaves.

Zero pauses, and senses an awkwardness as she is unable to fully return to her contemplative state nor to the bedroom without raising attention. She feels as if eyes are upon her. She feels like a stranger, in a strange land, in a strange home, living off borrowed charity, all while standing in the most sacred of places: a family den. To be in such a place felt wrong, as if she’s invading. There should have been more protection, guards or sentries, something other than mere words welcoming or dismissing would-be guests. But no, there are and were none. She was invited and fully welcomed, multiple times. Not only to the warmth of friends, meal, and bed, but to intimacy.

While Zero would let others into her domain, she had little to risk and even less to physically hide. Those that took refuge there in turn sought the same: to obfuscate themselves from others. That brought about a needed form of not only physical, but emotional security. It was a sanctuary without protection, so maybe... not so different after all. However, this wasn’t her domain and despite her rather recent experiences, her former experiences kept her chained to fear and distrust. How incredibly ironic that Zenos also considered his greatest threats to be his greatest friends, a likeness of circumstance.

The sound of metal clinking against glass resonates throughout the room once again, as if announcing Shu’s task, whatever it may be, is finally done. Her chair creaks, briefly scuffs the floor, and taps the ground once as she shifts her weight while getting up. Shu leans over the desk, stacks some papers, and drops them into a pile on her left. Her eyes look up and meet Zero’s. Shu’s usual weary expression softens and a faint smile spreads across her face, her cheeks lifting up almost to convey her relaxed mood. She makes her ways towards Zero. Quietly, she says: “Good morning, and thank you. For your patience that is. Haven’t been awake too long, I hope?”

Zero responses in kind: “And a ‘good morning’ to you as well. No, I haven’t.”

Shu leans in ever so slightly and lets a smug expression consumes her demeanor. In a light and teasing tone, she asks: “Slept well?”

Zero shifts her posture a bit, crosses her arms, and looks away in a show of neigh embarrassment: “More than I have in a long while, I’m afraid.” After a brief pause, she looks back at Shu, eager to change the subject and deny Shu her fun: “I’ve been meaning to ask. Since you and Sachi were rather eager to have me here. Why steal me away from Radz-at-Han?”

Shu’s excessively wide smile melts away, but not to one of less care or warmth. “Sometimes… nothing is everything. We just wanted to experience you.”

Zero tilts her head inquisitively and struggles to understand what exactly Shu is suggesting. She hesitates to respond, but does so either way: “I… I see…” Shu tends to come across almost as cryptic as she is informative, surely she’ll get to her point. Eventually.

Shu turns her focus over to the paintings. “It’s appropriate that you’re here, and that you’re here…” She motions at the ground with open palms: “… in Gridania. I was born of the Twelveswood, so I am familiar with the people here. To a degree, that is. Their customs, thoughts, and beliefs. I am at peace here. I am of here.”

Zero pivots towards the first painting, then stares intently at it while humming in ponderance. She shifts her weight to one side before they both look back at one another. “What of Sachi?” she asks.

Shu blinks, and a faint smile briefly returns as she can tell Zero is following. Shu turns her attention once more to the paintings, gesturing as she resumes speaking, almost as if transcribing the memories they retained: “I met Sachi in Thanalan. I saw maybe a dozen summers before I managed to stray beyond the southern shrouds. After I found out that I wasn’t as ‘thin’ as most people, I wanted to attune to many aetherites as I could. While I wasn’t as adventurous as her, I was equally curious about the world. But, for entirely different reasons. That is, my motives were academic. She was just… adventurous. Places to be, places to see. For me, the more places you can go, the more you can learn. As for where she was born? Neither of us know. We have suspicions, but nothing to show for it. She was adopted, but she didn’t make a show of it.”

Shu breaks for a moment before continuing, letting Zero ease into conversation: “So, umm, anyway… she would take on odd jobs. She was as much of a mercenary as she was a feisty, and stubborn, little gremlin.” Despite the potential for insult, there are hints of endearment in Shu’s tone. “She was very combative, almost always seeking out fights. Justified ones… mind you. Normally people would shy away from conflict, but she almost certainly thriiiiived on them. She took utter delight in humbling others. Her heart was in the right place, but we didn’t get along much back then. I kept to my studies in Ul’dah, while she frequented the Adventurers' Guild. Anything to see the outside, I supposed. Though we mingled, sometimes shared food and stories, that was about it. Too much energy for me, even at my young age.”

With a nigh straight-face, Zero responses: “Not so different than now.”

Shu stares back at Zero, caught unaware by Zero’s sudden wit. Uncharacteristically, Zero cracks a brief smirk as if satisfied with the outcome of her remark.

Shu visibly tries to hold in a bit of laughter, but lets out a faint chortle regardless: “Quite the same in some regards, yes.” The two hear Sachi stirring briefly in the other room, possibly from the noise. “So… we were acquainted, but not deeply involved for a couple of summers. Folks our age were either off to train with the Grand Companies or contribute towards the war in our own ways. I learnt of her aetheric density around then. Though, I should have suspected it since her, well, ‘determination’ was beyond reason. I simply didn’t give it much thought before.”

Shu pauses for a few moments, reminiscing, thinking about what more to say: “We eventually had a falling out. Not entirely by choice. There were simply less and less of us left to fight the Garleans. My sisters died in Carteneau during the Calamity, causing me to turn inward. I focused on myself and my studies. I regretted not being able to help; I’m sure Sachi felt the selfsame with some others. The last time we met up, it was just the two of us. We had no mutual friends left anymore. We spoke of our feelings that night: our fears, our regrets, our goals, and our desires. In the morning, we both parted ways. I believe we were both compelled to make that difference.” Shu lulls in the conversation, and take on a solemn tone: “That was… such a long time ago.”

Zero, despite feeling taken aback by the gravity of the story, tries to reaffirm Shu: “Yet here you are. Both of you.” Shu acknowledges Zero’s gesture and nods in agreement. The sounds of fabrics being thrown about the bedroom momentarily steal their attention. Maybe Sachi is dressing? Maybe she’s trying to find something? They figure it’s best to leave her be.

Shu looks down to contemplate while placing her hand to her chin: “Right, so, umm… with nothing left for me in the Twelveswood itself, I sought to make a name for myself. I figured that between the Wood Wailers and the guilds, I could make some connections.” Shu puts her hand back down and looks back up at Zero. “Ironically enough, I did, but not as an envoy. After many summers, I met the Scions, and through sheer luck, Sachi as well again. Turns out, we both had ‘the Echo.’ It all felt too unreal. We both developed and deepened feelings for one another during those years, but we were too preoccupied with primals, Ascians, and the Garleans to do anything about it.”

Zero breaks eye-contact from Shu, looks off to the side, then turns to the paintings beside them. “And when was that?”

Shu steps back from Zero, giving her enough distance to raise her hand and gesture towards the space between several frames. Shu motions at the junction between the shoreline, the peaks, and the Sanctum. “After the Praetorium, we married, but had to…” The door-frame and flooring creek, interrupting Shu’s story as well as announcing Sachi’s drowsy emergence from the room. Both Zero and Shu turn their gaze towards a yawning Sachi.

“Good morning, Dip.” Shu exclaims.

Sachi sleepily rubs her eyes: “Waking up is a trauma.” She glances over at Shu, then Zero, then back at Shu again, who finally puts her arm down.

Sensing Sachi’s curiosity, Shu explains: “I was just telling Zero how we met.”

Sachi takes a moment, then mumbles: “… eleven.”

With an exhausted tone, Shu replies: “No… Dip.”

Sachi starts chuckling as Zero, baffled at the spontaneity of the situation, turns back to Shu and asks: “Eleven?”

With a sigh, Shu clarifies: “Eleven bags. Eleven… grocery bags. That’s how many she carried for me before I took interest.”