Chapter Text
Blue Jay Sage is not a good man.
He abandons those he loves in their greatest time of need. He can self justify all he wants, but in the end, it’s true. Zhila would disagree, perhaps, but she is dead. Dead because of his inaction, and so she can no longer debate the matter. He will carry this truth with guilt ‘til the moon falls down again.
Despite being undeserving, he’s been blessed to know good people during his lifetime. To share a meal, joke around, have his heart gentled by the warmth they give off for a moment of respite.
He is not like them, though some nights he wishes upon star after star until his head is spinning that he one day could be like that. He has a long life ahead of him, after all. Even had he grown old together with his family without strife, it wouldn’t have mattered. As a viera, he is cursed to outlive any other race naturally. And he is too lucky, and not nearly brave enough to die any other way.
But still. Maybe inspiration will come to him yet to become a better--if not good--person. Many years, many moments, many people. There is always a chance, however slim.
For now, he is content to accept that he is not a good person.
Not like his late wife. Protective to the end, strong and fierce, never one to back down or let the injustices of the world build up, if she had anything to say about it. His daughter is similar. She’s out there risking her life daily to save Eorzea--no, beyond this land even, she’s out there saving the entire world, maybe even worlds plural, if the rumors and bardsong have any hint of truth to them.
He knows his little Cassowary got everything good in her from his wonderful wife. Must have. There’s no way she would have gone on to do so much if she’d inherited his cowardice, his weakness, his indecisiveness.
Zhila would be so proud. Blue Jay certainly is, unfathomably so.
He watches her now, from afar, a slightly sad smile plastered to his lips. There’s no need for caution. Everyone stares when the Champion of Eorzea is in town. It’s been so many years, he doubts she would ever recognize him. She’d taken after her miqo'te mother, after all. He is but a washed out viera covered in paint stains and smelling of regret. And though his daughter’s hair has changed color over the years to look more like his (a curse, truly, and he hopes that is the only part of him that she takes after), they still don’t look like family.
His daughter, who has forsaken her birth name (Blue Jay picked it out, ‘But dear, wouldn’t it be nice to start a line of avian names within the family ’, and his patient wife had only agreed because he had relented to, ‘Only if we can name her after a deadly bird. One that can survive hardship, and won’t ever get stepped on by other birds’ .) It’s only fair that she would give it up--her birth parents haven’t been in her life for over two decades--but it still stings. She will always be Cassowary to him.
She’s settled down at a large tavern table with her friends. She is smiling, as usual. But today it is radiant , and fills him with naught but relief and joy. For today, it is completely, undeniably genuine. She’s not forcing it, not even a little bit. Since the Calamity, it has seemed somewhat off, tinged with anger at the world, frustration, or dripping sadness. Over the years, either she has gotten better at hiding it, or has truly learned to smile again. Real smiles are no longer a myth. Things must be going better for her now than the last time he checked up on her. He’s so glad.
He suspects a large reason for this is thanks to a miqo'te sitting at the table next to her.
She towers over his tiny daughter: muscular from repetitive hard work, dark skin tanned even darker from many a bell spent outdoors, a crooked nose broken and unset years ago from an odd fight, and an ear marked by bite marks. Side by side, one would think she was the Warrior of Light upon first glance, and the other a simple retainer. But where Cassowary is small, her personality and presence is large and loud, and takes up more space than the room she’s in. She has a hidden power, one that radiates when she becomes determined, when the need to protect arises.
Upon reflection, he recognizes the large woman from years ago. Of course! The two ladies may both have miqo’te features, but the similarities end there. Yet they are family all the same, and used to be inseparable.
Every time he would check up on his little one, she would be there too, watching over her better than he ever could. A much needed sibling who entered Cassowary’s life after he had left it. One of the reasons he had decided to stay out of his own daughter’s life once he’d found her again, and let her continue to believe he was deceased. To give her a normal, happy life with a new family: a hyur man with a quiet demeanor who made mystical, marvelous, potions, an older sister who could beat up any bullies that so much as looked as Cassowary wrong, and a few younger siblings to play with. So much more than he would have given her, as a single father who’d turned to alcohol, art, and nothing else after his beloved Zhila departed this world.
Blue Jay is so glad to see she is not alone anymore. The scions are family too, he can tell, but this missing sister had been the final missing piece.
He only knows what’s going on because of a nearby bard, who is joyously recounting what has been overheard at the long table the scions are sharing. The laughter can be heard all the way over here where he sits in shadow with an easel and paints. It almost goes to the beat of the lyre. Impressive.
The bard sings of reunion. Two sisters who’d been separated during the Calamity, believing the other to be dead when the wreckage had been too much to clear in a timely manner, and no signs of the other were apparent. One, who had been washed far away to a foreign land on her wrecked fishing vessel. Who had taken too much time to recover from injury and acquire a new ship. The other had changed her name as a new start, taken up arcane studies, and left to go adventuring when the other did not return home. It is miraculous that the two have been reunited, and there is much to celebrate that they both still live, and may be in each others’ lives once more.
Blue Jay is not bitter over this. He can say this with a straight face and mean it with the full breadth of his feelings.
The tale echoes with similarity to his own situation. He too, presumed dead, gone for so long, could reunite with his daughter… It would be so easy. But he will not. He is no longer family to her. At least once a year, he checks up on Cassowary, and though it is tempting sometimes, he stops himself from speaking to her, to getting close. Without fail, he leaves again with the knowledge that she is doing fine without him, and feels gratitude that she has grown into such a lovely woman.
A lovely woman who has gone through far too much grief already for so few years of life lived, and does not deserve the heartbreak to have been for naught twice over. It is hard enough losing a sister for nearly a decade of lost time, let alone a father who willingly chose to stay away for more than double that. He never wants her to think she did something wrong to drive him away, or think of missed opportunities, when the issue has always, always, always been with his own wretched, fearful, heart.
He could not bear to see her disappointment.
He is happy for his daughter. Truly. All family members except this sister were truly lost to Cassowary--some through the Calamity, and some from other causes. She had lost Zhila and him at a young age, and lost her foster one as well. Blue Jay can only imagine the enormous amount of loss she’s gone through, the number of people that are no longer with her. That she feels she has let down. Because the champion of a world must rest that entire world upon her shoulders. The weight of expectation must be crushing, and she is so tiny .
He simply hasn’t been there to see how far the loss goes, but he has witnessed enough strained smiles over the years to know it runs deep. But he can also see how they have gotten more light, bit by bit, despite everything. She is strong, and pushes ever forward. And he can see that she has found family anew with the scions. How she treats them similarly to her sister, and how they in turn see her as more than just the realm’s hero.
He thanks the Twelve for this blessing. He can only pray for more to come. With that, he downs the last dregs of his ale, pays his tab, and starts gathering his supplies. He is done here, and mustn't overstay his welcome.
The tavern is behind him, and the sound of her joyous laughter still rings in his ears, a memory that will keep him going for another year. It’s enough to make himself smile. Blue Jay starts humming the tune the Bard had so expertly played, and makes his way down the road.
--
Several weeks later, Tataru greets Cahsi extra cheerfully as she enters The Rising Stones. “Miss Theia, a delivery came for you in the mail. I’ve left it on your bed -- an anonymous benefactor left it.”
“Ooh, how mysterious! Thank you Tataru, I’ll check it out right away.” A pause, tilted head. “By your smile, it’s either a really embarrassing gift, or there’s more to it than that.”
Tataru can’t help but do a little dance of joy. “You are correct! Not only was a gift left for you, but a sizable sum of gil made out to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, ‘to use for the greater good’. Isn’t that exciting? I had begun to worry how this month’s expenses were going to turn out. This will help a lot!”
“That is quite the good news indeed!” Her smile takes on a more mischievous glint. “But you know...If we’re ever in need of money, I still have ideas for an only slightly saucy pin up calendar that I’m sure would sell well”
Tataru rolls her eyes, but her shoulders shake a bit as she stifles her giggles. “Yes, but we are not in such dire straits yet! And you would turn it into a competition against Thancred to see who could sell more copies of their own version, I am certai--no, close your mouth, you can’t argue this point! I know because he has told me as much while in his cups. You two discuss the idea so often, I am not entirely sure if you are joking at this point or not.”
“Ha! Well, I suppose you’ll have to go a bit longer wondering about that, now that this generous donation has been made!” She winks, and begins turning toward the beds. “Seriously, though--I’m happy to hear that! It’s one less thing for you to worry about. Now then, time to see what this anonymous philanthropist gave! I hope it’s fancy treats….” Cahsi bounds away, ears flicking in excitement and tail swishing behind her at the prospect of a good present.
It is a good present, though not what she expected. Cahsi isn’t much of an art buff -- she likes making jewelry, but this is quite different to goldsmithing. She does know that Alphinaud is a great artist, though, and this is above even his skill level.
It’s a painting.
No frame, just a canvas. It’s half the size of her bed, and full of beautifully rendered detail. She’s at the center of the painting, surrounded by almost every single scion, and a few other friends too. Even the wandering minstrel is present. Theia too, so this must have been done recently. Her sister has only been back for a few months.
The colors are warm, vibrant. Their likenesses are pretty accurate, too. It’s a wonder she never noticed a painter sitting nearby for hours during any of her public outings. Everyone looks so happy. They’re all laughing and talking to one another, drinks raised in toasts, and mirthful smiles plastered across every face. It is a celebratory piece. Cahsi staves off the urge to run her feelings along the paint, which is glossy and textured. She does not wish to ruin such a marvelous creation.
Turning it around, there is a small note scrawled out in one corner in graceful cursive: Cherish your loved ones. Cherish life. Cherish yourself.
She feels tears spring to the corners of her eyes, overcome with emotion. Her face hurts, and it takes a moment to realize it’s from the force of her smile.
“This deserves to be hung up where all of the scions can enjoy it. Thank you, anonymous painter.”
She brings it out to the main entrance to share the joy with everyone, and it soon hangs upon the wall near the door that used to lead to Minfilia’s office. The scions who come and go often gaze at it in awe. It becomes a centerpiece that brings some amount of joy even on the darkest of days. A placard is placed beneath with the same quote that was written on the back.
Cahsi is looking at the painting yet again when she finally hears her name. “Uhh--yes?”
“Spaced out much? Come on, been callin’ you ages! You promised me lunch, remember? Thought I’d forget, huh?” Cahsi is suddenly being trapped in the crook of one strong arm and given a noogie. Theia is stronger than her, but she is the Warrior of the Light.. However, she has missed this far too much to put up a real struggle today, and just lets it happen, messed up hair and all (revenge can come later).
“Yeah, yeah, sorry Theia. I’m coming. Don’t get too excited though, I can’t afford everything on the menu. I’m not nearly as affluent as one might think a hero of the realm would be!”
“Hmm, we’ll see!”
“No, I’m telling you--”
The sounds of their childish bickering fade away as they run out the door towards the nearest expensive restaurant.
The painting stands watch over the empty room silently.
(While it is an anonymous gift, and therefore has no written signature, there is one clue that nobody has noticed, and probably never will. In the foreground of the festivities are a few trees. On one branch, a lone blue jay perches, watching over his Cassowary with a distant love, and hoping she will be cherished by those around her until her very last breath and beyond.)
Somewhere far away, a viera covered in paint stains continues to hum a bard’s tune about two sisters reuniting, and the love a chosen family can bring.