Chocobos were not rare in Eorzea, and once she had escaped the Black Shroud, they had become prevalent in her travels. Her trusty Grand Company issued steed, for example, had become a stalwart ally— The great Enbarrin. She’d care for it diligently, its bright yellow plumage maintaining a healthy sheen, its intelligent eyes regarding her as she’d inspect it for any injuries or signs of illness.

Still, Eithne is at a loss for words, when Haurchefant presents her with one of his own— a black steed, her plumage unlike any Eithne had seen before. A humble token of mine admiration, he had called her, as Eithne cradled the whistle, marveled at the muscular and sleek bird. She could see him now, a young chick in his arms at Camp Dragonhead, the way she knew he’d smile and croon as he nurtured it, and her heart swelled.

In the years to come, it might have felt to her as if all she had left of him was a broken shield, but Finnea would remind her of his kindness, her sweet trills and energetic demeanor reminiscent of the knight that had raised her. There was little Eithne would care about in the days after his passing, but neglecting her charges was not one of them, be they human or animal. She would find the strength during her off days to visit them, to file their claws and polish their saddles. They’d chirp and wark at the sight of her, Enbarrin bowing their head in greeting, Jeanne eager to nuzzle her hand.

She had never thought she’d become so attached to the routine of it, that she’d find such peace amidst the quiet noises of the stables. It seems Haurchefant had known her, once again, better than she did.