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[personal profile] elidelio posting in [community profile] vocab_drabbles
Title: Unto Thy Soul
Fandom: Octopath Traveler
Author: [personal profile] elidelio
Rating: G
Word Count: 521
Summary: "Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel."


With Redeye defeated and her master safely returned to S’warkii, H’aanit thought her grand journey had finally reached it’s end. Little did she know that her tale had only just begun.

Setting aside the mountain of secrets she’d uncovered alongside her travel companions, dealing with the aftermath of Redeye’s demise alone proved to be much more troublesome than she had anticipated. The beasts that had escaped the Marsalim ruins under Redeye’s reign of terror ran amok on the surface, terrorising unsuspecting travellers. H’aanit was forced to put her hunting skills to the ultimate test, not for the difficulty of the quarry, but for the sheer quantity of it.

Her master was of little help. Sure, Z’aanta was an excellent hunter, but outside of the hunt the old man seemed to worry for nothing other than drinking and gambling, this hadn’t changed about him even after his close call with death—not that H’aanit had expected it to, really.

Another reason why she was the person dealing with these rampaging beasts was because of the small amount of fame she’d garnered while on her rescue journey. The people she helped witnessed her deeds and passed them to others, so her name was almost always top of mind when it came to thinking of someone who could deal with the monsters and keep the people safe. After all, she’d slayed the fearsome Redeye, surely a few minor beasts would be no trouble?

By the time she was done with the bulk of them, H’aanit felt more tired than she had ever felt before. Not even Alfyn’s concoctions or Ophilia’s blessings could soothe the weariness that seemed to have settled deep within her bones.

“Bid do not tell me thou art already tired, lass.” Z’aanta would goad her when she took time to rest.

“Not tired yet, I am not as old as thee.” She would reply, “I am simply taken careth of mine own self. Something thee couldst learnen from.”

At this, her master would let out a bellowing laugh, sometimes followed by an aggrandised anecdote from his more youthful hunting days.

Though H’aanit was busier and more exhausted than ever, she also felt happier than she had in a long time. Whether it was in joining Olberic for a spar, listening to Tressa’s latest adventure, or simply watching Primrose sway to the rhythm of music only she could hear, she felt a rare sense of contented joy that she used to only feel in those rare moments when Z’aanta acted like the father she never had.

From time to time, in between their newfound respective duties, the eight of them would make sure to find the time to meet at a tavern and talk for old time’s sake.

A soft smile would play on H’aanit’s lips as she watched the unassuming Cyrus drink the other men under the table, and an always observant Therion would spot it and ask, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nought much, just mine own fortune.”
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