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“You're... T'rhiki, aren't you?”
The diminutive Elezen woman stands in front of him on the streets of the Sapphire Exchange, fingers raised to her lips in wonder. Something sparks behind her eyes. Is it... fear? Regret? Disbelief?
Remorse.
T'rhiki looks her over. She's not too much taller than he is, with smooth, thin, porcelain skin. Her blonde hair curls cutely under her chin. Her bright blue eyes are wide and fixed on his.
She looks like she's seen a ghost.
“Yes, I am, miss!” T'rhiki responds cheerfully. “It seems my name is starting to spread around here! Is there something I can do for you?” He grins, gently leaning and setting a hand on his hip. She seems to know him, but he can't place her. The woman's face grows a little pale.
“It really is you...” she murmurs, almost to herself. “We met once before. I... I never told you my name.” T'rhiki's fuzzy ears twitch a little, and his single earring clinks against itself with the tiniest sound.
“I-I'm so sorry, but I can't seem to remember our meeting. Come! Let us rest at the Quicksand and talk of old memories,” T'rhiki says quickly. She slowly moves to protest, but he takes her hand and leads her down the street. She is incredibly light, and follows like a feather blown about in a strong breeze. The Elezen woman's feet hardly make a sound as she stumbles after him.
T'rhiki sets her down gently at a table in the Quicksand. “Let me get you a drink to ease your mind,” he says kindly. He touches her hand and she shakes her head in response.
“No, please. I... I swore off the drink.” T'rhiki looks at her, mismatched eyes full of concern.
“Then please, pray tell, where have we met before?” he says in response. The woman's gaze falls to the table in front of her.
“It was nine years ago. My father had... hired you... for your s-services.” She blushes slightly. “He wanted a child, but I couldn't conceive, and so...” She trails off. T'rhiki's ears flatten. He begins to remember this woman. She looks quite different from when they had first met. Her hair was longer then, and she had seemed... full of life. The woman who sits in front of him looks like a shell, like a cast-off skin that walks and talks. The nameless Elezen shakes her head. “I was barely a woman then,” she says as she runs her white fingers across the wooden table.
“I had long since become a man,” T'rhiki smiles with a slight hint of bitterness. A disgusted sigh that only he could hear brushes inside his ear. “I remember that night now. We both performed our duties well, and you certainly seemed like you enjoyed yourself.” He leans over and grins mischievously, wearing an impenetrable facade.
In truth, T'rhiki had tried to forget that night. He had done all he could to forget that Elezen girl, her long, blonde hair splayed out beneath her, covering her eyes with her arms. He had done all he could to forget her father, tall and slim, taking him to his study for his “payment.” He had done all he could to forget the sensation of the soft leather armchair beneath his fingernails as he cried, “thank you! thank you! thank you!” over and over again through anguished tears and an empty smile. He had done all he could to forget that he didn't earn his meal that night.
Disgusting. Treating us like meat.
The Elezen woman blushes and turns away. “You see, I... After our, um... encounter, I...” She becomes even redder and holds a hand to her stomach. T'rhiki's blood runs cold.
“You don't mean that...”
She nods and smiles hollowly. “I was with child. You had done splendidly,” she responds relentlessly, as the blood drains from T'rhiki's face. He feels faint. His world spins for a moment, his blue eye and green eye going in seemingly different directions.
“I-If I... then... wh-where is... the...” T'rhiki gulps audibly. He can't finish his sentence. His vocal cords threaten to shrivel up in his throat. The Elezen's smile fades, and her eyes begin to cloud over.
“He... didn't survive.” She stares at her hands in her lap. “We did everything we could, but...”
T'rhiki stops breathing. He stands up unsteadily from the table, shaking fingers dropping several gil on the polished wood. “Forgive me. I... I must go,” he says, and rushes out the door. The woman stands with a start and reaches out to stop him, but cannot manage the words. Instead, she sinks back into the seat, and holds her head in her hands as she weeps silent tears.
All T'rhiki can do is run. He runs out through the gates to Central Thanalan, and keeps running. His knees give way, and he stumbles and falls to the ground.
How hypocritical.
“What do you mean?” T'rhiki hisses to the silent voice.
All your life, you were taught to believe that your only meaning was to bring happiness to others. Treated like a slave, like breeding stock, he spits, did you never once think that your actions might have the opposite effect?
“Fray, please...”
You sired that woman's child, Rhiki. You gave her and her family happiness. But ultimately you gave them one of the greatest sorrows someone can experience.
“Fray, sto-”
I wonder when she lost the babe? Was it two, three months in? Or do you think she experienced the agony of childbirth only to deliver a corpse?
“THAT'S ENOUGH, FRAY!” T'rhiki screams. His voice is met with silence. “Please... that's enough.” His shoulders tremble as he weeps, his tears moistening the packed dirt beneath his hands.
...Let this be a harsh lesson, Rhiki, Fray finishes. You can't possibly make everyone happy. He sighs.
T'rhiki feels a strong, gentle pair of arms wrap around his shoulders, embracing him as he cries in the dust.
No matter your intentions, there are always unforeseen consequences.