Work Text:
‘B-best of luck on your journey, Zefiris!’
Wrenching the heavy oaken door of the Waking Sands open with a little more force than Tataru thought strictly necessary, the duskwight woman stepped outside into the growing shadows, taking her leave with nothing but a curt nod. On the threshold, her forward motion was abruptly arrested - she looked down, face athunder with confusion and annoyance. A thread of her ragged leather coat had caught on a knot. With a hissed profanity, she tore the offending strand free, and all but slammed the door behind her.
In her wake, a few stray papers whirled off the receptionist’s table, eddying to the floor. With a frown, Tataru hopped off her chair, and set about gathering them up again. ‘Well,’ she snorted indignantly. ‘At least the ink was dry.’
The newcomer was most certainly not what she had expected. Tataru was no soft touch - since the age of twelve she’d had to work hard to survive, and not always in the most wholesome of environments. She had seen - and seen off - her share of rough sorts and opportunists, and then some. But in all the days since she’d taken up her role with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, this was the first time that any of the carefully selected subjects they had approached with overtures of membership had been so…so…
‘So - what do you think of our new associate?’ Musical voice raised in question, Minfilia crested the stairs from the lower levels. Rounding the corner, she observed Tataru's predicament with a soft, startled sound, and made to kneel and assist - but Tataru gently waved her off, ruffling the last few sheets back into an ordered bundle.
‘She seems a little…aaaahhh…’ Tataru trailed off on a long, uncertain note, grasping for a tactful response.
‘Reticent?’ Minfilia supplied with a knowing smile.
Having restored the papers to their rightful place, Tataru cast a glance over her shoulder at the Antecedent, her brows furrowed. ‘Well, between you and me, I was going to say ‘rude’, but…’
Minfilia lifted her hand to her face, stifling a giggle. ‘Oh, dear. It’s not often anyone makes such a poor impression on you, Tataru!’
‘Well, usually when we extend an invitation to anyone, they’re…well, a bit…happier about it. Glad to help, or…relieved to have found comrades - or at the very least intrigued. Whereas this Zefiris…she seems positively surly!’ Tataru sighed, her ears colouring with embarrassment. She didn’t like to seem mean-spirited, but…‘It’s only…well, what you're doing here is important. The Scions are important. And I…well, it’s my job to look after you. I don’t want to see anyone getting hurt, that’s all.’
Minfilia smiled. Not a day passed that she was not grateful for the day she had approached Tataru at the Jewelcrafter’s Guild - hard at work, but wistful, seeking something more - and asked if she might consider alternative employment. Minfilia often reflected ruefully that she had not always been a good judge of character, but her instincts had undeniably served her well that day - and in truth, Tataru had taught her much and more in that respect over the years. They balanced one another well. If her friend seemed uncharacteristically harsh on the newcomer, it was only from an excess of care. Circumstances were beginning to move, to intensify inexorably in a way they had not since the Scion’s inception - and if pragmatism demanded that Minfilia be open, it were well that Tataru was wary.
‘Dearest Tataru, what would we do without you?’ With an affectionate laugh, she set about reassuring the younger woman. ‘Thancred has observed her often these last months in Ul’dah, and has vouched for her - and I see no reason to suspect her of any ill intent. If her manner is a touch…reserved, well, we each of us have our quirks, do we not?'
‘I suppose…’ Tataru conceded, somewhat abashed.
Taking a seat, Minfilia favoured her friend with a rare wry grin. ‘And besides, one cannot fault her for being guarded. We are a questionable lot, with our titles and our lore and our powerful connections.’ That at least could not be denied - chuckling in agreement, Tataru instinctively made her way to the sideboard and its ever-ready pot of tea, and poured a cup for each of them as Minfilia continued. ‘But ultimately I sense that our goals are aligned. Momodi speaks well of her deeds in the Adventurer's Guild, and her record with the Flames is so far exemplary; her actions suggest altruism, even if her words do not.
‘In the end, we have no choice. We need her abilities. But I would prefer if our relationship were as painless as possible...and she seems very alone.’
If anyone might empathise with the burden of those strange abilities, Tataru reflected, it would be Minfilia - and the sadness that had stolen into her friend's voice as it trailed away told as much. ‘Well,’ she offered cheerfully, ‘I’m sure if anyone is capable of reaching her, it’s you!’
Encircling her teacup with rough, callused hands, Minfilia shook her head, her thick braid swaying gently. ‘It is early days, and one should never say never,' she mused, '…but I fear she will never come to trust me, simply due to the manner of our introduction.’
Tataru frowned, hands coming to rest on her hips. ‘I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,’ she chastised. ‘Surely you can’t tell that from a single conversation?’
‘I fear our new friend has much she wishes to conceal - or perhaps it is better to say, to forget. In revealing to her that we share the same power, I hoped to hold out a hand of comradeship, as much as anything else; but alas, she now knows that at any time, I might pierce the veil she has drawn over her past. She will always be suspicious of me.’
Aghast at the suggestion, Tataru hastily put aside her teacup, reaching out to her friend. ‘Oh, Minfilia - but you would never—’
‘Not intentionally, no. But I have little choice in the matter. The Echo comes where it will...and to my regret, her suspicions - if indeed she holds such - would not be unfounded.’ Minfilia frowned, uncomfortable with the admission. ‘I fear I may already know more of her past than she does herself at the moment, and that is no fair advantage.’
‘Should that even be possible?’ Tataru asked. For all she made it her business to know as much about her charges as might be useful to aid them, she had never delved into the mysteries of the strange abilities possessed by many of their number. Though no Archon, accounts were her aetherology - and somewhere along the way, she had picked up an assumption that one such talent would balance against another like credit and debt. ‘Wouldn't your Echoes…cancel each other out, or something?’
‘For all the efforts of the Path and the Students over the years, there is still much and more we do not know of the Echo - and it is a difficult thing to test,’ the Antecedent mused. ‘Truthfully, I had thought as you do. I had never seen through the eyes of a fellow blessed - and Krile, as an example, cannot “hear” me. ‘Tis one of the reasons we were able to become friends: I am “quiet” to her.
‘Yet…I saw what I saw.’ Minfilia’s voice grew distant; thoughtful; her eyes veiled as she gazed over the rim of her raised teacup to some unseen horizon. ‘Perhaps for some purpose. Something Hydaelyn Herself wishes that I understand. Time will tell.’
The Scions were - with a few exceptions - masters of their own masks, and none more so than their Antecedent; calm, serene, with a wisdom well beyond her years. Yet Tataru was wise to all of their tells, Minfilia’s not the least - and the ever-so-slight furrow of her delicate brow; the way she worried at her bottom lip with a sharp canine, leaving it swollen, spoke plainly of concern. It was a look such as she might have worn on realising that weeks had passed since Y’shtola had last checked in with them; or when Thancred returned just a little too drunk to play it off as part of his latest subterfuge. That she would spare such a look for their newest recruit, after a single meeting -one which did not go precisely well - gave Tataru pause more than anything else. Maybe…maybe she was being too hasty.
Rubbing at her temples as though pained, Minfilia asked quietly: ‘I know there is no need for me to ask this of you, whatever your reservations may be, but - be kind to her, Tataru.’ To the younger woman, her meaning was clear: ‘Be the friend to her that I fear I cannot be.’
She would, of course. For Minfilia’s sake, if for no other reason - but if Zefiris Winterheart was indeed to be a Scion, then it was Tataru's business to find out how best to support her, and she never shirked in her duties. Surely they would find some common ground along the way.
Before her was a burden she could easily ease - and that, above all, was Tataru's speciality. She grinned, offering Minfilia a little bow, and a hearty thumbs up.
‘Don’t worry, my lady. When she comes back, I’ll do my best to make her at home. I promise.’