Sometimes you get told things that are memories of another but cut so deeply into your soul that they feel like your own memories, too. Experiences of loss and hurt that you now share with that person because they are so close to you and you can’t help but deeply feel for their suffering and what they had endured. You carry these memories just like the person who experienced them does. Because how could your heart forget the torn open scar it had seen on anothers.

When did they….

… I was nine, Hilo was twelve…

Aveen saw a small Miqo’te-Boy dragged out of a burning house that was once his home, his shelter. Saw the horror and fear in his bright orange eyes. Felt the harsh grip of the uniformed figures on his fragile body. Heard his scream of agony when they passed the lifeless, bleeding body of a Hyur Man lying next to the street. The childhood of the Miqo’te had ended in that moment. Killed by the Garlean Empire like so many childhoods. The Boy would never come back near these doman forests again. Would never see his father again. But the memory would make him break down on the Tatami Mats of his appartment in Kugane many years later, while the moon shone down innocently through the open sliding doors to the balcony. The moonlight touching his tears and that of his bluehaired student next to him. No words would be able to describe how the student had felt that moment. It had been propably the first time, that he truly had witnessed what unprocessed trauma did to a man. Had felt a part of his own heart shatter with it. And as he had lain next to the former boy there on the floor, his silence had spoken to him: Stay. Please stay.

Three days had passed since their return from Ala Ghiri and Aveen had done his best to avoid Somna’a. Somehow he wanted to talk to him about what had happened in that canyon and at the same time he did not. He was glad that Somna’a was still in the camp and at the same time Aveen felt it would have been easier for both if the Keeper had just left. Aveen had slept badly because he wasn’t able to relax his mind and just found himself tossing around and thinking, thinking, thinking. Even writing didn’t help much and so it felt like his head was filling up with washed up memories, nostalgia and sadness again and not even tears would show up enough to be a relief.

So he jumped into his work to distract himself and he wanted to learn as much about Alchemy from Ira as he could while he was still here. He helped Marghi with the care of a wounded traveler. Kept the wards clean. Looked after the Chocobos. He often saw Somna’a around the stables, too and the Keeper seemed to drink even more coffee than he did before. Aveen feared he got even less sleep than he himself did. But there was nothing he could do about it. For all Aveen knew Somna’a had his place in the patients tent again, so Marghi propably still allowed him to stay. Sometimes Somna’a seemed to try to approach Aveen but he either didn’t know how or Aveen pretended he didn’t see him and turned away to his work again. It was childish behavior of course and Aveen wasn’t actually mad or angry at the Sellsword. Deep down he could understand his reaction towards the soldiers and his opinions quite well. That did not mean he would approve of them. He was just disappointed and maybe wanted to protect himself. The memory of Somna’a swinging his swords to his direction, even if it was in the heat of the moment and Somna’a propably didn’t even think about it, was enough to make Aveen uncomfortable.

At least he didn’t just show up in Aveen’s tent like he had done before and had tried to settle everything with a hug. Aveen didn’t want to give the impression to just easily give forgiveness when offered craved physical affection. It wasn’t that easy. And he couldn’t help but think about the question of what Somna’a would be able to give him if Aveen truly wanted to stay in contact with him. Because that was the problem. There was something he liked about that blond Keeper. He didn’t want to part ways and pretent that they didn’t have liked each others company.

It was the afternoon of the fourth day, when Aveen ate a tiny lunch, sitting alone on one of the big supply crates next to the stables when Somna’a approached him, his hands behind is back as if he was either hiding something or wanted to make an innocent impression. He wore a simple gray sweater and no weapons this time, his ears hanging a bit low communicating uncertainty. It was another little thing Aveen liked about him. Somna’a’s body language, especially that of his ears was so full of life and interesting to read. Aveen could count on one hand the time he had seen Tristan’s ears revealing any kind of emotion. The Healer finished his Sandwich silently while letting the Keeper approach and nodding a short greeting. ”Hey, Aveen.” Somna’a said softly as he stood before the crate and looking up to the normally smaller Miqo’te because his sitting position was so high. Somna’a waited for any sign of discomfort from the Healer and as Aveen didn’t give him any, saw it as an invitation to sit next to him on the crate. Somna’a had a red feather in his hand and held it to Aveen. ”Our red Chocobo Girl lost this this morning. I thought you might like it. As souvenier and keepsake to… your time in Gyr Abania.” Aveen clearly noticed that strange pause in Somna’a’s sentence and how soft and tired he sounded. And looked. It might have been the cloudy weather but it was as if the bright green Keeper Eyes had lost their lively spark.

“Thank you.” Aveen said very politely and took the feather that had the size of a hyur’s hand and was a deep crimson with a lighter tip. He guessed it was one of the longer headfeathers. It was beautiful and soft. Awkward silence fell for some seconds until the Keeper spoke again, looking at Aveen. ”I want to apologize. For… being me, I guess. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my loath of the empire. Shouldn’t have let my anger out against you who just… tried to help.”

Aveen briefly looked into his face before averting his gaze again, turning the feather between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. He felt this wave of sadness again. Saw the image of Tristan’s face again, fangs bared and this rage in his orange eyes when he had seen that Garlean Guard at the Embassy in Kugane. Saw his tears, his emptyness.

“I knew another Keeper-Miqote once.” Aveen began with his out of place answer to Somna’a’s apology and as if the urge to speak these words had been in him for some days now. ”He was born in Doma. In a small Tribe deep in the forests and mountains but was cast out and left to die when he was an infant. He was found by a Hyur Fisherman that would become his beloved father who raised him and loved him as he was. The Miqo’te sadly had a rare desease that would affect his immunesystem and so any random flu or cough was a danger to him. His father did the best he could do to help him, sat beside him when he was sick and they had wonderful years together. The Miqo’te wasn’t fully a teenager when the Garlean Invasion reached their peaceful spot near the river, too. The house was burned. The Hyur slaughtered and the Miqo’te Boy dragged with them to be broken and reforged into one of their soldiers. They shortly dragged him to Garlemald to find the right medication for his sickness before they tossed him back into the cell, forced him into their training. Humilating. Cruel.” Aveen looked at the red turning feather while he told this story with a soft but a bit disconnected voice. He felt his heart ache, but pushed the pain far away. Somna’a sat next to him, as silent as a starless night. ”Years later he was sent to the frontlines here in Gyr Abania, to fight at Baelsars Wall. His first operation in the field. But he managed to escape. Through the Wall. To Gridania where he found a mentor. He was able to begin a new life there. To Study. To become a brilliant Professor. But he never healed.” Aveen looked at Somna’a who’s gaze was full of pain and slow understanding. ”What he had experienced, had to endure… it became grief, guilt and so much self-loath. All pushed down, further and further, where it would lay as a dormant spark, ready to crush and burn him again when he let down his guard. So he never did. Not completely. He never could. People meant pain. People meant desease because of his weak immunesystem. People meant lies and betrayal. S-so….please don’t let this happen to you, too, Somna’a. Don’t let your seek for revenge and all you have lost turn into something that lets you be miserable and… empty. You said yourself you behave like an ass when you are hurt. And… and that’s just what you were in that canyon. Not physically. And maybe already for years. So I understand your reaction and I thank you for your apology. But please don’t apologize for being you. I don’t want you to take this path, too.”

Somna’a’s ears hang even lower now and he just looked at the smaller Miqo’te next to him for several long seconds. Aveen felt a bit sorry for having suddenly dumped all that inner thoughts on him, but he knew the right time was never.

“What was… or is his name?” then came from Somna’a after these seconds and Aveen felt a strange instinct coming up inside him. As if he had to protect these precious moments and memories. Of course he knew that Somna’a must have made the connection of who that Miqo’te Boy he had just spoken of became to him years later. And now it was as if telling Somna’a his name would be like telling him Aveen’s biggest secret.

“Tristan. That’s the name he went with since… that day.”

Bravely Aveen held back the upcoming tears and looked at the red feather again because he couldn’t bare to look at the Keeper next to him. He felt his ears shake a bit but at the same time his heart felt… lighter. As if having spoken Tristan’s name out loud had cut the ropes of sorrow that had been around it for the last couple of months. In the corner of his eye Aveen saw that Somna’a wanted to lift his arm to propably offer any kind of comfort, but there was still something that held him back.

“Thank you for telling me. The doman soldiers must have reminded you of him, hmm?” The Keeper said softly. “And… you are right. About the hurting part. Mostly I am jealous of… I don’t know. Your perspectives, your nice life, your hope, your home.” he shrugged but still looked tired and miserable.

Aveen looked at him again. “But your life isn’t over Somna’a. On the contrary you still stand after these years of war and I believe you have done much for the resistance. Nothing stops you from starting new, from having a home again.”

The Keeper smiled his casual smile and shrugged again but his ears easily showed his unease and uncertainty he tried to hide. ”Well, if you would ask some of my former superiors of the resistance they would tell otherwise. I probably wasn’t quite popular in most companies. That’s why I switched so often or did some work as bodyguard for traveling merchants in between.”

“Why?”

“I guess I just don’t do well with commands and teamwork. I best work alone.”

Aveen just nodded silently and waited if Somna’a would respond to the topic of starting new, too. But the Keeper didn’t as if he prefered to ignore it. They sat in silence again, both looking in front of them to the tents of the camp until Somna’a hesitantingly asked: