FFXIV: Remember That We Once Lived

“Remember…” Emet said. His emotions, his somberness, fully exposed as he no longer had his hood over his head. “Remember us…”

As he spoke, the open wound in his chest continued to pulsate with light. A’rlen’s makeshift spear had done its damage; much to her relief and sorrow.

“Remember that we once lived…”

A smile, a very small but prominent smile appeared on Emet-Selch’s face after he said those words. A’rlen had only seen Emet-Selch smile when it was out of deviousness, out of malice, but she had never seen him show this emotion. As she stared at him, as he continued to lose his physical form, A’rlen couldn't help but stare into his eyes… the violence was gone. Hades was no more. All she saw was a man who wanted a better ending for him and his own.

“....... I…” she tried to respond but she couldn’t form words. Instead she merely nods. A gesture she has gotten accustomed to using.

With A’rlen’s response, Emet-Selch’s smile grew just a bit, but it didn't steer away from that solemn feeling of defeat. Though it’s clear to the Miqo’te that his loss might mean something if she kept his words to heart. But should she? Emet-Selch is an Ascian. An enemy. He sacrificed millions in the effort of reaching his goal. He felt no remorse for every betrayal and every scheme he orchestrated. He would continue to hurt those dear to A’rlen if he was given more chances to do so. He fought against her with all his might. An arrogant, conniving, and condescending bastard. The way he sauntered about, the way he would belittle them, the way he would wave his hand in the air at them as if they are nothing more than insects meant to be swatted away.

A’rlen hated him. But at the end of the day, it’s an arduous task for her to claim how much she truly does. Despite their differences, they had an understanding. In more ways than one, wouldn’t she have done the same thing as Emet-Selch has done? Isn’t the well-being of her fellow Scions… of Y’shtola’s… more important to her than anything? More important than the safety of the world? Maybe he was right. They are more the same than A’rlen would like to admit.

As A’rlen slowly came out of the pools of her mind, the last physical essence of the Ascian faded. All that was left of him were the tiny glints of his Aether being carried away by the wind as they disappeared beyond the horizon. With the sun no longer hindered by the tainted light, the remnants of her enemy were quickly lost from her eyes.

She had more words to say. Her hatred. Her respect. Her need to tell him that he was insufferable. She wanted to thank him for what he has done. She wanted to ask more questions. She wanted to yell at him.

A’rlen hated him. And yet the thought of him no longer about gave her an uneasy feeling of emptiness, grief, and a weight on her chest that she never thought she would have for him. Taking Longinus from her back, she stared at her weapon before giving her attention back towards the direction where Emet-Selch once stood. And without so much of a warning, A’rlen dropped her weapon. The sound it would have made would have echoed ever so loudly however, what came out of A’rlen’s mouth--a word, or just noise, whatever it was, it muffled any other sound. The Miqo’te screams for a few moments before screaming again. And again. What or who she was screaming at was perhaps at Emet-Selch for she directed all that emotion towards the area where he last made his stand.

Her helmet drops and the sound of metal hitting ground also drowns within the rage of the Crimson Dragoon. Her screams were more erratic, more intense, and to her fellow Scions, it was painful. They stood a few distance, reappearing after the darkness faded. A’rlen wasn’t aware of their presence, lost in rage as she was.

“Rlen!” no longer able to endure the sight, Y’shtola ran to A’rlen’s side, trying her best to comfort the raging Dragoon. “Rlen! Rlen, please.”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Y’shtola forced A’rlen to face her in hopes that she could snap the Dragoon out of her blind rage.

“Rlen…. Eyes on me,” Y’shtola stated sternly, trying her best to get her voice to reach her. And despite the success of having A’rlen’s grey eyes on hers, the Dragoon continued to yell fanatically--almost as she had lost all sense of herself. “Rlen…..”

As Y’shtola continued to try, even as far as bringing the girl into her arms, the others watched on, a myriad of emotions had washed over them. The scene should have been filled with victorious cheers and the likes, but none to be had. Alphinaud, for all his intelligence and his quick thinking had no words--nothing to comfort the companion he had traveled with for malms and malms, world to world. Words escaped him, nothing to share for comfort and encouragement. Alisae, of course, had nothing to offer. For all her bravado, she lacked to contribute, shortcomings and inadequacy are her usual forte.

“WHY?!” A’rlen shouted between her rage, “WHY?!”

Thancred kept Ryne in his arms as she herself had broken down in tears. Not anywhere near like A’rlen’s break down, but her head remained buried inside Thancred’s embrace. Flinching every so often every time A’rlen’s words pierced the air.

“WHY?!”

For a moment, Thancred glanced at Urianger’s direction. The Elezen also locked eyes with Thancred but it was brief. He also paid close attention to the events and watched solemnly as A’rlen’s body was wracked with grief, anger, and fatigue. In an abrupt and sudden moment, A’rlen dropped to her knees with Y’shtola guiding her down. Both Miqo’tes eventually ended up on the ground with Y’shtola holding the Dragoon upright as much as possible. A’rlen continued to yell despite her head now leaning heavily on Y’shtola’s chest. The Sorceress continued to comfort her companion as much as she could. As if caring for a newborn babe, Y’shtola brushed her fingers through A’rlen’s black hair, making soft sounds of ‘sshhh’ along the way, allowing the mourning Dragoon to rest her head on her bosom.

As he continued to watch on, a sound caught Urianger’s attention and as he faced behind him, he quickly saw a haggard, injured, but nonetheless, a standing Exarch--G’raha Tia. He stopped as soon as Urianger spotted him with an embarrassed demeanor. He took two more slow and labored steps forward as it was obvious that he was trying to find words to say.

“Thy words you propose, her ears will not forfeit themselves to listen,” Urianger spoke first, stopping the Exarch before he opened his mouth. “Thou shan’t find exoneration at this moment from thy guilt.”

The Exarch stares at Urianger before glancing towards A’rlen and Y’shtola.

“For the moment and until grief descends below her ambiguous mind, the hero of the hour is drowning in her own untested emotions.”

Staggering next to Urianger, G’raha Tia watched in despair as the hero he looked up to was, at the moment, as Urianger plainly stated, a broken mess of emotions. Y’shtola knew this all too well as A’rlen’s barrage of grievances continued.

“H-he….why? He … saved…. Your life! WHY?!”

Y’shtola, for a moment, was taken aback. Clearly she knew what A’rlen was talking about and she, out of all people, was grateful that she did not end up trapped within the currents of the lifestream as a bodiless aether of herself. Though her life was saved by the enemy they just slew--which brought her to the epiphany that the same mixed feelings are now drowning A’rlen as well. But for A’rlen, the Hero that so many look up to, emotions are not Primals to her; she cannot contend with them with spear or rifle.

“WHY?”

Pulling her closer, Y’shtola leaned her head to A’rlen’s ears, her lips so close as she said the words: “A smile better suits my hero.”

Ears fluttering about, A’rlen gasped as she heard those words. Her rage subsided. The memories of a friend taken so soon appeared in her mind. His smile and his calm demeanor even in death… and all the people that A’rlen had lost, the people she couldn’t save, and then Emet-Selch’s last words echoed in her mind once more. With grief still heavy upon her, A’rlen buried her head on Y’shtola’s chest and cried--no rage, no yelling, just a young woman grieving for all the loss she had endured. The others, while still dejected at the sight, felt more at ease. A’rlen could lament without being lost in the fray of her own tantrum. And as the Dragoon continued to let out her tears, Y’shtola took a moment to look at the glowing weapon on the ground. The one that took Hades’ life. An Axe--one so familiar in the hands of the former Warrior of Darkness. She knew that his soul helped. And she was glad. Had it not been for him, she would not have gotten the chance to comfort A’rlen.

The moment of their victory… this moment, they will remember. And the man who asked for them to remember the lives and the world that once were.

-END-