Warrior of the Void Book 1, Chapter 87
“We didn't see anyone that had indep-interde-idemiminimnim– whatever gender!” For all of the terrible things that had happened today. Seeing the little lioness struggle with such an innocent tongue twister was cleansing in a way. “We were hiddin’ and if you can see people, then you're not hiddin’ right.”
Especially how she seemed so sure and proud of herself for her ‘great wisdom’.
“Yeah! But… I think we heard them?” It was also quite cute to see how her young friend didn't so much as doubt a word coming from her mouth. “We sneaked out of the big room where they kept all of the sad ladies, and while we were in our hiddy place, we heard a swooosh. There was a lot of talking after, and then a lot of shouting too.”
“Can you tell us the sort of talking they did?” Thancred's question got the two to glance at each other. But amazingly it didn't cause them to clamp up.
“They said to gather everyone… I think, they used big words and they were being nasty.” Despite Thancred’s worries that the pair would be too shellshocked to speak, getting them to open up had been as easy as providing comfort and kindness–
“They had an evil snake for a tongue!” The little Hrothgar mumbled into Muur’s tail.
–Two things that, as it turned out, took the form of letting them use Muur as a hug-pillow.
“Mh!” Meanwhile, in Muur's lap, the Bangaa squirmed in a subdued nod, “Oh! And they came in just before the angry lady came in!”
“But I’m not angry…” Angry lad-Umbrage mumbled with a pout as she sat in a corner. The Roegadyn had offered her own lap, but neither of the girls had wanted anything to do with the blood-covered thaumaturge for rather obvious reasons.
It was kinda hilarious, given what Muur got up to when she was mowing through Alacran and Lambs, but best to not bring that up and let her natural first impression as a slip of a woman with a huge tail do its work.
“Nuh-uh! You are! That's what Umbrige means!” Truth didn’t always flow from the babe’s mouth, but this here was an argument that no one could dispute… mispronunciation of the word aside.
“It most certainly does. Good with your letters, aren’t you?” Thancred didn’t waste time in integrating himself further with the kids. At great cost to Umbrage’s pride, no doubt. “What then?”
“That's when they started being really loud.” The clear look of pride at being called smart only lasted as long as the child having to recount what came next. “The shouty man that kept being mean to the sad ladies said stuff about ‘op-e-ra-shuns’ being broken by a ‘gla-dee-ah-tur’? He called them super bad words, and told the snake tongue man that he wasn't doing nuthin' until they did sumethin’ about her.”
It required no great intellect to infer who this ‘mysterious’ gladiator was. Certainly, it could be a different one, but Thancred’s mumbling “She certainly has a strange definition of ‘limiting her involvement’...” to himself made it fairly obvious that Muur's beloved had put the screws to the Alacran.
Chances were, it wasn't even on purpose. She’d definitely be teasing her over it if it had been on complete accident.i
“There was a bad sound after that. All wooshy and wet, and it made the shouting stop. Quiet bad man asked if anyone had things to add, but no one talked.” Scooting in Muur’s lap, the little rescue slowly looked up at her, with empty eyes. Like she already knew the answer to her next question, “You said you beat up the bad people, but… Where're all the sad ladies?”
“They are dead.” Muur said softly but without any euphemism let alone lie. If this was back on Earth, around now would be when people would yell at her, but if she was in this kid’s shoes she’d want people to be honest instead of dancing around the issue.
A pregnant pause followed her declaration, and if Muur looked to Thancred, she'd find him giving a smile that didn't judge her. But also asked ‘Why did I let her answer?’
There was no checking Umbrage's own reaction. Not when choked hiccups and sobs rose from the two tiny bodies pressed tightly against her. “Why…” wet warmth that had little to do with blood streaked across her tail, “Why'zeet lik-dis?” All pretense of strength or control was gone from the little lion’s voice as she cried all that she could, “Evry’ne shahid the chiti was a good plase. Papa, mama– even the big shand mishters! Sho why–!?”
There were no words left for her to speak. The poor thing was too tired, too beaten down, too broken to form another coherent sound. Her emotions swept her mind away, but there was one small glimmer that she held on. A piece of sturdy lumber that had drifted close and kept her from drowning.
“Why’re we the only’nes lefts–...” Her friend finished for her. Moments before succumbing as well. Both tightened their grip on the driftwood that had seen fit to rescue them. One Muur’Zagaas Himaa, a Thaumaturge of little renown, now forced to contend with her greatest challenge yet: crying children.
Could she go back to the Void with the castle full of deranged monsters, please?
__________________________________________________________________________
“Gods, that could have gone better.” The less said about the awkward walk back to the Ossuary the better. But Muur got the feeling that Umbrage wasn’t talking about the peculiar challenge of guiding two heart-broken and shut down little kids through the city streets. “Here I thought it’d be a quick ‘get in, deal with the annoyance, get back home for dinner.’ Guess I should apologize about dragging you along?” Caressing the eye she’d lost, the Roegadyn winced– although whether from pain, or the glare from the nurse waiting for her, it was hard to say.
“Don’t, if you hadn’t gotten backup things would’ve been even uglier. You saw how many cultists and crooks were hiding all around the street, nevermind whatever kind of Voidsent the Lambs pulled out this time.” Muur groaned, utterly wrung out but at least relieved it was over and done with.
Or at least as much as it could be with so many deaths and two bereaved children. She may head to one of the smaller shrines in the Ossuary to see if a bit of prayer or meditation helped settle her.
“True,” Umbrage said with a sigh as she watched the two little lives they’d saved disappear behind a heavy door. Then, as if she was commenting on the weather. She said one of the most outrageous things Muur had ever heard, “Shame about those kids though. I, for one, won’t envy the axeman if it turns out that we have to kill them…”
If it wasn’t for Muur’s tail, she’d be finding out how the floor tasted as she nearly tripped over THAT bombshell, “...Run that one by me again. I know that if you go too far into an aether polarity or element you can get hard-locked there and go insane, and Void exposure tilts towards a polarity so it can cause that, but they had no issue carrying a conversation and I reek more of Void than both of them combined.”
“Eh?” Umbrage blinked, then rather obviously replayed the discussion in her head before chuckling, “Oh, sorry. I kind of forgot you were new to Eorzea– those ‘sand misters’ they talked about a bunch of times? They’re almost definitely Amalj’aa, beastmen.” She spoke the last word as if it explained everything. But in case it did not—which it didn’t, all Muur really knew about them was that they’d shot on sight and she’d had a magic clash with one of their shamans—, she went on, “Beastmen worship beings called Primals. Masses of aether made into the shape of their gods. You’ll have to ask other people for more details, but Primals and their worshipers can ‘temper’ a person’s soul. Dunno how it works exactly, but it overwrites the person’s being, turning them into fanatic worshipers of the Primal. There’s no cure for it, save what the axeman’s duty provides. Need I say more?”
“Because of course Void taint wasn’t enough to deal with. Ugh. Well, I have sharp enough senses for aether that they help even when futzing around the alchemy lab, and nothing felt awry. So unless this tempering business somehow completely sidesteps the aether, they’re fine.” Muur grumbled, none-too-happy about the extra piece of anxiety dropped on her lap. Definitely going to a shrine.