Fenri'sal derthe

Stab a rabbit in the eye
And it will bleed a-crying
But stab a Rabbit in the heart
The Wolf will come ahowling

Post-Dalamud, at 26 summers, Southern Shroud

***
They could taste the battle that had passed on their tongue,--the mineral tang of river sediment and blood. A train of scarlet ribbons snagged at their heel as they crawled out of the river, drench down to the bone. The rest of the guild had abandoned them. They did not blame them.all i leave is death and a pleasing smileFenri wished they were back in the ravine, the pit that knocked nightmares into their head as Dalamud fell, bleeding light and a red mark on their brow. There in the cold dampness, no one sang songs about them. About how vicious yet unreliable they were. There, no one was afraid of the heat in their temper that waylaid a bandit camp but also got the new merc boy crippled. There, perhaps the cold could've killed them off quicker---and maybe when their brother smiled, the clawed crescents on his face wouldn't twist an otherwise warm grin."It wasn't your fault, Fen." he had told them, a hand caressing his scarred face. Now, whenever he smiled, he looked like he was in pain. "You weren't yourself."but no, no it isFenri sighed and rose up, fastening their quiver across them. Every bone and muscle screamed, and they could tell they're suffering a concussion. They streaked a hand through their hair and groaned that the red on their scalp wasn't blood but the cheap red henna they carded through their hair last night. Anything to look like their mother versus the alabaster haired bastard with too much blood on their hands. They brokenly carried themselves back to the behemoth's corpse, the one that had swatted them into the bloody river. They pulled out the largest fang and grinned at the weight of gil it would bring. People stared as they sauntered into the Carline Canopy. The festive crowd hushed as the battered and bruised Alabaster Wolf returned from an arduous errand, smiling, confident, bothered unbothered. On the way to the bar, they winked at the nearest person--a blonde beauty hiding behind a mask who sat next to a haughty looking Lalafell. "What? Never met a devilishly handsome Viera covered in blood before?" they drawled, feeling their mask take over. "Don't worry, love. I don't bite unless asked nicely~."

MENAGERIE
all things in between

29 Summers (6.0)
Rava, Raen, Keeper
Non-binary, Transmasc (they/he), Pansexual

RANDOM SHIT

+ DRK/BRD
+ Born 32nd Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon
+ Loves Meat Stew and Sukiyaki (especially if their mother makes it)
+ Is second eldest to six siblings and has learned to be great with kids. Kids don't think they're a monster. Usually.
+Was briefly part of a dance troupe to make ends meet.
+Their former favorite pastime was leaping from rooftop to rooftop in Rabanastre. This was reawakened upon visiting Thavnair.
+Talks to themself a lot.
+HATES snow.
+ Their Au Ra horns are special glamours made by their sister

ANTHOLOGIES

Fifteen Summers, Rabanastre

"Mac…Mac it’s me. It’s okay."They weren't. Macuil was just six. Mac was a willowy boy who wanted nothing more than to flee the desert heat and hide behind cooler stones that made the city; disappear into his books. Sadly, the shadier parts of Rabanastre were also where the nasty children roosted in, peeking down the tapestry tents to fish for their next target.“I–I just wanted to protect you.” Fenri’s voice sounded meeker out loud, all courage strangled the way out their throat. They reached out to Mac, who was hiding between some decaying spice crates like a cornered kitten, red ears flat against his skull, magenta eyes wide and brimming with tears. The boxes were old. They could collapse on him any moment, and it made Fenri panic. He needed to get him out.As they reached out, Fenri gulped at the visage of their shaky fingers, a thin thread of crimson traversed the ridges of their swelling knuckles, mountain purple and blue. “This—the kid will fare alright. He’s fine.” They insisted, yet they dared not look to their right at the unconscious body surrounded by his terrified friends. They could never forget the crystal clear sound of cartilage snapping against the crown of their fist, the hard knock of a body against stone. “Mac–Mac please, you have to believe me…”“Get away!” Macuil screamed, his adrenaline cloaked in the veil of fairy tales as Fenri grew larger in his imagination; teeth baring, saliva dripping down bloodied front claws as a pair of bright red eyes glowered at them with hollowed hunger.Fenri choked on the weight of the words, a chorus of children cried chantries of made-up rhymes inside their head, but the heat of their sweaty skin tasted palpable, as if sweltering against their body, iron crackling on their tongue.A memory. They’re twelve. A strong Xaela girl socks them in the face multiple times, to the beat of bun-ny rab-bit. Fenri jested upon returning home that they planted a black rose from their eye socket. They remembered it hurt to cry.Stab a rabbit in the eye, And it will bleed a-crying!Another memory. They’re fifteen today. This was an hour ago. A Hyur boy this time has the hunter’s mark—on their brother. A hand is grasping Macuil by the collar as his prized The Six Nativities and Myriad Creation splinters from a twelve feet drop. Before they know it their body reacts, and now they’re clawing at the boy’s back with the intent to pierce, like needles into a butterfly. Fenri swings their brother off the ledge, and Macuil is thrown across the rooftop. He watches in horror as their sibling dents craters into his former assailant with the eyes of a rabid creature, out of control.WHAM. But stab a Rabbit in the heart, The Wolf will come a-howling! THWACK.The wooden panels on the crates finally gave in and Macuil screamed, as did the rest of the children who fled to escape the mess they started. One of them stayed. One of the quiet ones in the group (perhaps a victim as well). Rava just like them–navy blue hair and leporine ears slapping hard against the cheeks underneath relenting amber eyes as he too surged forward to reach out his hand. “Hurry!”Macuil’s eyes snapped to him. He takes the hand without hesitation, and the boy fishes him out before the weight of the crates collapse in a heaping smoke cloud of dust, mold, and old cinnamon.“Mac!” Fenri swung through the wreckage to see Macuil’s crimson hair disappear into a sea of blue braids, crying into a stranger’s arms in relief. Fenri felt their sandals screech to a halt, digging into their toes. They press their bruised hand to their chest and the pain blossoms, and they allow it, because of course—of course they deserve this.So Fenri does what they also do best–leap down the terracing rooftops and run. The navy-haired Rava’s cries for him to return fall on deaf ears. They ran even if their legs felt they’d fall off, could swear as they turned each alley corner their shadow grew, prowling and growling, red eyes multiplying against the slide of a grinning maw.I’m not that at all I’m fine I’m fine I’m not a monster YOU’RE A MONSTER I’m not I’m not I’m I’m I’m I’m I’M AFenri hurled themselves into a back alley where someone had thrown all their old textiles into. They burrowed deep underneath an embroidered indigo sky, heart rattling around their ribcage, wishing the ground would swallow their carcass whole, that they’d be nothing but long-dried bones finding an embrace against brocade flowers when someone decides they’re worth looking for.MONSTER.