#( Elouan )

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 30: Two Heads Are Better Than One

Esredes' heart dropped when he approached the remains of the village. The blizzard and hail combination last night had left more damage than he anticipated- roofs were caved in or full of holes, the very foundations were blown to the side or partially collapsed, and while it looked like no one had died, they were all huddled around fires shivering. Everything looked absolutely and utterly miserable.

"We're going to have to put aside the week to repair this," Esredes said to the little group he'd brought along. He'd thought it would be enough just to have a trusted circle of Mythirel, Marcelloix, Heilyn, Vette, Fiachna- whose sister Niamh had also decided to come, to which Esredes only reclutantly allowed- and Marchand was there too, he supposed. The man had technically joined them, and he might make himself useful on this task. But even despite these two uneasy allowances, as Esredes surveyed the extent of the damage done to the village their movement was taking shelter in, it was not near enough to make quick progress. Oh, they would all be suffering the entire week.

"Maybe I can convince a couple more people to come out here," Esredes said with a sigh as he tapped his linkpearl. Elouan was not a member of the movement proper, but he trusted him with this affair at the least. He explained the situation over the pearl to him and luckily, just as Esredes anticipated, he agreed to come right over and help.

"Let's get to work in the meantime," Esredes said. "I'll call over as many of the movement as available as the week goes on. With luck, we'll have this all functional by the end of the week." For now, he sent Fiachna off on that messenger task and got to work with the rest of the crew. Marchand made himself useful hauling the supplies and materials they did manage to bring along as well as those too injured to move around properly, while Heilyn got to work repairing the damage, even though it quickly became apparent it wouldn't be enough. Vette kept the campfires roaring and otherwise provided heat to the villagers who weren't lucky enough to be blooded with fire, melting away ice and snow that was in the way of them making any progress. Esredes tag-teamed with Marcelloix to haul and assist with the basic repairing he could do, transforming frequently to help hold things into place for others to nail down or get people and materials onto the roof.

The little group worked away for a couple hours, and had barely made a dent in the work. A couple little houses looked in better shape now, but far from finished, the debris from the storm to clear out seemed endless, and they didn't have nearly enough materials to keep at this forever. That's when Esredes heard his name with a familiar cheerful voice, and when he turned around his heart rose and dropped in equal measure. Elouan had showed up, as promised, along with Fiachna making his return. But with him he'd brought an entire crowd of others. Andromeda, Mercer, Aloysia, Ryousei, Majalis, Leigh, Alvere, Fuyu, Kainen, Azarah, Alastor, and for some reason even Ross who Esredes barely remembered the name of were all there too- along with an apparent delivery of more supplies, with a note from Adel saying they were from an anonymous wealthy source. And to all of it, Esredes blinked several times in a row. This village was confidential. It was private. The last thing these people needed was for their peace and solitude away from Ishgard to be disturbed by outsiders who could come back and mean them harm- No, no. Esredes, for once, quieted the thought as it came. These were not loyalists or outsiders, these were his trusted friends and associates that had come to help. A smile came to his face, and with it, the work continued.

Andromeda was familiar with handling housing in the cold- Shiva bless her country Garlean origins- and immediately helped lead and assist the rest in where to repair and bolster the damage done to the buildings, as well as having come with more materials of her own, and putting that magitek of hers to heal the injured with Fuyu. Mercer was good with lifting the heavier things and hammering, but he also got to work fixing broken metal. Meanwhile, Ryousei was on watch duty, surveying ahead to be sure the area was clear of any actually unwanted visitors who could try and bring the entire place down. You never knew even in this post-war world. Majalis and Leigh were focused on distributing supplies to ensure everyone remained warm and fed, Leigh coming with jarred foods and spare blankets, and once that was done Majalis moved on to assist Fiachna and Niamh with repairs. Kainen used his Dragoon jumping to more easily move materials around. Azarah and Vette both assisted Aloysia and Rossignol with getting a pot of soup going for everyone, a combination Esredes couldn't voice his protest to until it was too late. Aloysia insisted the vague, mushy concoction they had made tasted good, but Esredes wasn't about to trust it for a moment. Fortunately, Vette, Alvere, and Leigh came to the rescue, adding in the right ingredients to make it palatable.

By the time everyone settled down with the soup, the progress had made leaps and bounds compared to where it was at before backup arrived. And with the promise of more people coming tomorrow thanks to Fiachna's messaging, it looked like they might have this village fully functional again by the end of the week indeed. People settled in, villager and helper talking to one another around bowls of soup, exchanging ideas and learning about each other, and with the multiple sources of fire the cold Coerthan night felt warmer than it would have all alone. Esredes closed his eyes. All of this reminded him of when they had worked on the Firmament together- but that had been everyone, and for the whole good of Ishgard. This? Coming out to help him and his so far away from the center of Coerthas? He couldn't help but smile, and something in his active mind slowed down. Perhaps he needed too many reminders that the people around him were to be loved and trusted, but moments like this kept his hope alive for the future. He didn't dare think that someday soon everything would end, and this could be the future he lived in. Yet ever since the end of the world came and went, he'd also felt like something had really changed, and this sight was yet more proof of it. The future, as always, remained cloudy, murky, and uncertain- but as the group settled in for the night to get back to work tomorrow, everything felt at ease in the world.

[cherubinym]

the rare ceri LL oc art and LL art in general

when will the LL dev team Communicate and come back from the war :Pensive:

[talvi-tuuli]

It's coming!

I can't wait to play it! The trailer was so cool (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

[maulie-dyke]

Precious Novae scenes but it’s all my wife, Cyrille (+ my comments, for substance)

+ Elouan, because they are THE duo

(Spoilers for up to halfway through chapter 13)

first sighting! I thought she was pretty when they first showed up, and now, years later, she’s even prettier

‘why did I let Elouan talk me into this’

(Under the cut because things got long)

I just think this shot is so funny. She’s so annoyed lmao

She!!! Is so pretty!

Annoyed Cyrille 2.0

She <3 I wonder if everyone in universe thinks she’s wearing a wig because of how fabulous her hair is

This scene is so short but SHE IS SIMPLY STUNNING (Their dynamic in one shot)

MOTHER (mommy?)

Back at it again when you’re supposed to be having fun, cyrILLE

Making people uncomfy at balls since the late 1600s (more proof for my autistic Cyrille headcanon?!?!)

She’s so pretty <3

The most majestic hair in France, by Cyrille Le Valois

I’ve always thought they look like they were going to have a fistfight over that brooch (personally, I think Sulvain would win in the end but Cyrille could hold her own)

Her running shots in these few pages are hilarious. Does she like running? or is she going ‘sir, why am I running, I am a respectable woman and ladies do not run’

The one who will cuss you out while still managing to look better than you, even in a crisis

#/let Cyrille have a whole sword fighting scene 2k23 PLEASE

The detail of her eyes in this shot (’I am literally dying and you’re trying to steal my sword? Make me die faster? What?) >

MA’AM?!?! She straight up disarmed him with her scabbard, while actively dying, and caught the sword before it fell. AN ICON I STAN FOREVER

As this chapter goes on the little detail of her face going grey/bluer is such a nice touch. So when she actually passes out you realise ‘oh shit she’s literally blue in the face’

HOW does she have the skill to be so pretty while dying? I don’t know if I want her or want to be her

CYRILLE IN A DRESS when I tell you I lost it when this cover page came out I lost it

Brb busy SOBBING I love her, I’m so proud of her

‘I am at my LIMIT with this weird magic shit’

Elouan and Cyrille HE LOVES HER SO MUCH A KING If I liked men I’d want an Elouan

This is deadass my favourite shot of them they’re so cute

I love her dumb expressions so much

Cyrille’s really out here being a nerd about the magic room while Elouan is busy being Elouan

She has such a nice profile, like I want her nose

Elouan: ‘I know you’re trying to debrief me on everything that went on but I’m busy making an engagement ring’

SHE SAID YES THEY’RE GETTING ENGAGED I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR

[thorneyes]

Rohesia and Elouan? For the character impression meme! -shieldbcund

Twelve, what a ponce.

It nearly comes right out of her damn mouth, when she catches sight of that bright-white armor. Fuck, even for the elezen of Ishgard, presumably likelier than anyone to fight in the snow, it's a shouting beacon, by her reckoning. Like it's begging to be stained with blood and dirt and soot in the first battle he gets to. White is for those fancy bastards who can afford to keep it - on anyone else, it turns grey in short order.

She takes a breath and unclenches her jaw, doing her best to turn her attention away again. It's not like this one's taking up space, or really doing anything. If not for the inevitably clanking, she wouldn't have known he was there. And, well, elezen all sort of have those punchable faces, don't they? Something about towering over everyone while being thin as reeds lends itself to looking down their noses at people. They're not the only ones... and it's only a touch their own fault.

So Roh breathes out and lets it go, though she doesn't let it stop her from keeping an eye on this fellow as he moves.

Only... the first thing she sees has her blinking in surprise. The decoration had been hidden at first, but it's still there when she opens her eyes again; delicate white flowers, tucked into his hair.

... If he is a ponce, he's an interesting one.

( @shieldbcund Thanks for the ask! )

[ofglories]

|| @duunswitch He gets PAID?

"You think I'd stay in Antarctica after breaking Marisbury's nose for stealing my shit if I wasn't being paid?"

[insurrection-if]

ROs reaction to that "I want a baby" meme?🤭

Oh, I love this meme! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡

I wanted to add the minor romances too, but that exceeds the maximum screenshots per post (10). ╮(╯∀╰)╭ For the sake of scrollers, I’ll place the screenshots for the main romances below the cut:

Akil

Kamiko

Sigmund

Imka

Elouan

Jae

Niccolò

Mutya

Fyodor

If you remove the ‘let’s wait’ aspect of the first response, he’s a mixture of these:

Thank you so much for this ask! (　´∀｀)b

[fizzydrinkuno]

Elouan is my stand-in for Aurora for a fan comic currently in pre-production. Just wanted to share his final design.

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 20

To the Attention of One Mr. Caranar (no surname)

As recompense for innumerable personal offenses, irreconcilable differences, and generally insufferable behavior, you are hereby challenged to a gentlemanly duel under the law of the Holy See and the Fury's ever-vigilant eye.

Don't bring a second.

- Renaud-Elouan Cledwyn

"What a load of shite." Eryna stated.

Caranar stood at his wife's desk, trying to get her to put ink to paper.

"I don't see why you should even bother to answer. He's an arse."

"He's not gonna let it go."

"How can you be sure?"

In response, Caranar held up three more similarly addressed letters, still in their envelopes.

"Ugh." Eryna looked over the message once more. "Since when did he give a damn about what was proper according to Halonic scripture? And what's this bloody nonsense about 'no seconds'? That alone isn't proper."

"He's a coward. The only reason he'd ask for a duel in the first place is so he can cheat."

Eryna rolled her eyes. He was surely right, but... "All the more reason for you to let him bluster about unheeded like the impotent wretch he is."

"Or," Caranar muttered through his teeth, "I could thrash him within an ilm of his life like he so badly wants, so he'll think twice about trying it again."

She groaned loudly and drooped against her desk. "I just don't want you getting hurt."

He snorted, then graced her with a crooked smile. "I know. Don't worry, he's not gonna get the chance."

"You really mustn't kill him, either. Beef and Popola would be devastated."

Caranar grumbled affirmatively. "You ready to start writing?"

Eryna sat up and lifted her quill from its inkwell. "I suppose."

"Alright..."

Dear Renaud,

Fuck yourself. Time and place?

Sincerely, Caranar

[ofdeedsglorious]

Slowly, slowly, fingers trace the curving red lines on the back of his right hand.

Almost like an abstract representation of a crown, or the hilt of an elaborate sword. There's a heat emanating from the Command Seals, one that could only be intrinsic to the markings themselves. Perhaps it was the mana they contained? Interacting with his own in unique ways.

If it would cause less of a scene he'd ask Fujimaru or Kadoc if theirs were warm to the touch as well.

But then there'd be a whole to-do about who he was contracted to, and Elouan wasn't ready to face that yet. Whoever he was bound to was something private, something he had to accept on his own first and foremost. Then, maybe, if he felt like it... He'd tell the others. For now, with a sigh, he tugs the glove back over his hand and returns to his work.

[siniaesart]

Birthday softness!

It was my WoL's birthday in mid of july and I just had to draw my main ship with him... Enjoy some soft WoLmeric <3

(Their outfits are actually based on very similar ones I got for my Aymeric & Meteor plushy and that was what inspired me to draw them like this in first place :3c > x.com/Damnjell/stat... )

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 10: Stable

Esredes didn't like Red Chocobos. It was hard to take a liking to them when one of them almost crushed him with a meteor. He could move the earth, sure, but he could not stop a meteor coming towards him that came down out of nowhere. Were it not for Elouan's timely intervention with his paladin magicks, Esredes most definitely would have died that day while chasing down a traitor to himself and Ishgard both.

Needless to say. he never wanted to be around one again. There was a small problem with this plan, though: He lived in Ishgard. He knew more than a few people who owned stables, including Rousseau, the half Miqo'te noble sent to his counseling practice by the court whose family owned a Chocobo business. Stables, porting services, the usual nine yards- and now, it seemed, he came to him as he announced winning a local racing tourney. Naturally, Esredes suggested he go further. Take it to the Gold Saucer where he used to work and make more of a name for himself. "I'd certainly feel better without all those prying eyes," Rousseau had to say to that. "The rumor mill here is killer. Even if it was a casual thing within the city, word travels too Fury damned fast." "Hence you see my point." Esredes smirked at him. "That'll be 500 gil." Rousseau snorted and clasped a hand over his mouth as he laughed. "Well-I don't know about that-but I can offer to show you some chocobo chicks for your time?" "Heh, ah, I still haven't seen them, have I. I wouldn't turn it down." Rousseau smiled wide up at him. "You haven't, and that's a crime around here yunno-evading chocobo hatchling pets is a serious offense!" Esredes chuckled. "Oh no, I can't go back to jail..." Rousseau waved a hand. "Come on, stables are this way."

When he followed him into the stables, they were both beset immediately by an army of little bundles of feathers running amok in a chorus of 'Kweh!'. They tumbled over one another in the most inelegant fashion possible. "Oh gods..." Esredes was careful to watch his footing. "Look at them. You have so many..." Rousseau chuckled. "Aren't they the cutest? Feel free to pick one up, they're usually pretty friendly. They nip a bit out of curiosity but not enough to hurt." He snickered, scooping one up into his arms. "Hey there lil guy." He crooned while tickling the chick that squirmed and sang in response. Esredes carefully watched the chicks run around, bending down with his arms poised until one crossed right into his path, and he scooped it up! It tried to bite his forearms, but he chuckled as he steadied it in his hold. "Do they have names?" Rousseau shook his head. "Not yet! I've given a few of them nicknames so I can differentiate, but we usually try not to give anything that'll stick until they either have owners, or get a bit older." He smiled at the chicks, but a small peep from behind the nearby pillar dropped his expression to a nervous one. "So does this one have a nickname, at least?" Esredes smiled at Rousseau, but it quickly dropped as he read his face. "...What's wrong?" "Huh? Oh! Yeah, that one is..." He looked her over. "Ah, that's eggshell! She had her shell stuck to her for a few days after hatching, wouldn't let anybody take it off, wore it like lil pants." Rousseau chuckled again, making a shooing motion at whatever was behind the pillar and setting the hatchling he was carrying down. And that was when, with a peep, a tuft of red feathers poked out from behind the pillar. "Tootie... I can't-not right now hun-please-"

Esredes' eyes went wide and he felt his blood run cold at the mere glimpse of red feathers. He took a step back towards the exit, even though he still held a chick. Rousseau's expression was laden with guilt at the crying of the chick, and he looked over to Esredes with a sigh. "I-I'm sorry, I know you don't like them but..." He scooped the red hatchling into his arms, trying to shield Esredes from the sight of her. "She always does this, cries until somebody holds her. Think she has separation anxiety a lot like her mom." "Poor thing," Esredes said with hesitation, holding Eggshell close in his arms, who crooned and nuzzled closer to him, soon falling asleep against him. But he didn't take his eyes off the red one. "Aw, c'mon. Tootie doesn't even know how to hold her head up without stumblin, she isn't gonna hurt you or Egg." Rousseau spoke gently, the red hatchling trilling and poking its big eyes out from over his arm. "Not now, I certainly hope. But what about when she grows up?" Rousseau pouted a little. "Well by that point she'll have been raised with enough love and care not to go setting fire to anything that scares her-like I told you before, they need to be really stressed out for that... or severely under stimulated. Either way, if she or any of these birds hurt anyone, it'd mean I failed to train 'em properly." "...I would certainly hope so." Esredes acquiesced. "You would know what you're doing more than myself." Rousseau fixed him with a reassuring look. "...You know, she's real affectionate. Love other people... if you wanted to actually see a red... she's probably the best chance you'll get." The bird was staring directly at him now, her big, dark eyes shining in the light. But Esredes looked down at the sleeping bundle of feathers in his arms and then back to her. "...I appear to have a present conundrum." Rousseau looked between the two chicks and slowly smiled at Esredes. "I... have an idea?" He stepped forward, slowly, until he reached Esredes, offering up the wiggling bird to the Elezen. "Trade?" "Uh... is she going to like that?" Rousseau hummed. "Egg sleeps like a rock, so I doubt she'll wake-but if you meant Tootie-" He looked to her. "I think... she might think you're family, not gonna lie." He nodded toward the sheer amount of red on the man. Indeed, the bird seemed to be clambering to try and get to the man.

"...I guess there are worse things I can be than a mother Chocobo." He carefully moved his hands out to make the exchange, handing off Eggshell as Tootie slid into his arms and immediately snuggled up into them with a happy coo. Esredes was tense as he held her, but he was holding her securely. "Is she going to fall asleep too." He asked. Rousseau managed to suppress his laugh this time. "I wouldn't be surprised. She seems to feel pretty safe with you." He beamed at Esredes. "She really does think you're her mom... I wonder if it's just the coat or if your hair helps?" He murmured. "...I imagine neither help me to not look like a Chocobo, do they?" "You are pretty red. And she seems to like it... how you holdin up though?" Esredes looked down at the chick. "...Fine." "Good, if it's too much just let me know, yeah?" "I just worry if she's, uh. You said she had separation anxiety." "Yeah, she cries pretty hard if she doesn't see somebody she likes around. It can make it hard when we need to check up on her and I'm busy elsewhere. She really doesn't like Reimus." He snorted again. "Good." Esredes remarked. He didn't like Rousseau's high maintenance and in his own head younger brother either. "She has common sense." Rousseau nodded. "Oh yeah, she's a pretty good judge of character." The bird crooned and practically wagged her tail as she blinked up at Esredes. Esredes couldn't help but smile down at her. "Really?" He asks Rousseau. "Do you have any other stories?" Rousseau tapped his chin in thought. "Hmm, there was that one time she wouldn't stop hissing at a bush outside... I couldn't figure out what was bothering her, every time I went out to check, it was empty... Until one day I found one my my letters that'd gone missing, out by the green, opened and everything." He waggled his fingers. "Not the first time my mails been stolen, but I think she found the one responsible n scared 'em off." "...Wow." Esredes said. "That's... actually pretty incredible." He looked back down at Tootie. And she thought Esredes was her mother now. "They probably saw the red and thought what-well-everyone thinks." He sighed. "Scary red chocobo, it's gonna attack me, I better run." Rousseau shrugged, petting the sleeping Egg. "In this case it just happened to help. No more missing letters-so far at least." Tootie trilled, as if she too, was proud of this feat and knew they were discussing it. "A real guard... Chocobo. Guard chocobo. It's a shame you're not keeping her." Rousseau snorted again. "By the Fury-you're right. She would make a good guard chocobo." He grinned. "Oh, the red aren't for sale. I-well I couldn't part with Knife's like that, at least. Maybe if they were a friend, but they aren't a part of our listed stock." His expression grew awkward. "Not to mention... they aren't exactly purebred. I-I /think/ the dad was a Blackfeather? I can't be sure though. The second I got to Coerthas she just-" He waved vaguely to Tootie. "Hm? She just what?" "Had a bunch of chicks. Didn't even realize she'd taken to nesting because of how she hunkers down in places most of the time. I panicked trying to get them all registered, the last thing I wanted was the knights busting in and taking them." "Oh. Oh dear..."

As they chatted, Rosseau rocked Eggshell in his arms and watched Tootie play with a shiny bit of metal on Esredes' coat, to which he was most certainly not stopping her. "...If you don't mind me asking... why the reaction to them? I mean, I know they can be scary because of the rumors but, you seemed to be more on edge than most." Esredes stared at him blankly. "...I've seen what they can do." Rousseau pursed his lips. "Ah, of course. Sorry I... shouldn't go digging for bad memories. It probably wasn't a very good experience, yeah?" "No. I almost died." His brows shot up. "Almost-Fury, man. M'glad to see you didn't..." He shook his head. "Was it just some bad luck you ran into or-no-nope, sorry, I said I wouldn't dig. You don't have to answer that." "If only. No, someone was trying to kill me. Using the bird." "Trying to... wh-" His jaw dropped. "How someone could use an animal like that... and try to kill you of all-I swear some monsters..." Rousseau could barely bite back his usual temper, hugging the bird in his arms just a bit closer. "I hope they got the bastard at least." "They did. But, yes. That is why." Rousseau sighed in relief. "That poor animal... poor you! Ugh, what in the hells is wrong with some people? M'sorry you had to go through it." "I ponder the same. But for all I do in that room I can only come to the same conclusions." Rousseau nodded. "Well, given all that happened, you're doing amazing with Tootie, here." "Oh... thank you?" Esredes looked down at her. "I'm glad to hear that."

Another smile crept onto his face. No, he didn't like red Chocobos. But Tootie, he decided, could stay. At the very least, there was Tootie now, and he'd be a proud surrogate Chocobo mother.

[starlit-seadragon]

Day 25 - Perpetuity

In which the young Estelle de Borel, daughter of the Lord Speaker of the House of Lords and Lord Commander of Ishgard, and the esteemed Warrior of Light and Lady de Borel, jumps off a roof.

CW: panic attack, abandonment trauma, uhhhh adoption? Ishgard sure is A Place.

Submitting unfinished for the deadline but I would like to finish it sjdjffnfjfhf

My FFXIV Write Masterpost here.

When she was first born, Elouan had thought his baby sister perfect.

Round button nose with a single scale on the bridge, dark and wispy curls, hands so small that even his thumb was larger than her fist.

Four years later, the only thing he thought perfect about her was how perfect a brat she was.

"Estelle," he hissed in the loudest whisper he could manage, "get off the damned roof!"

Far above, his baby sister gasped. “El said a bad word! Bad El! Stel will tell Mama and Papa!”

"You're one to talk," he grumbled under his breath. He was a son of House Borel; he was not going to argue with a toddler.

"Estelle," Elouan tried again. "Please. Before you get hurt. I will come up there if I must."

He was not quite sure how he would accomplish this—he was not even sure how Estelle had managed it—but he knew that keeping his word was important, and regardless, he intended to try.

He just wished that it had not been the top of the manor that she had chosen to perch and that he were not out in the middle of the godsforsaken street, where anyone passing by could witness them.

Ere she had left, his aunt had promised to return shortly. “Not even a full bell,” she had said. She had forgotten something essential to dinner, and the trip to the Jeweled Crozier was a quick one. Elouan had acquiesced, saying he would keep an eye on Estelle, thinking it could not be very difficult. She was, after all, still so small. What mischief could a child of four get up to that a boy of twelve could not handle?

Evidently, a great deal.

She was gone in the blink of an eye. Elouan had been studying, looking into his book for but a moment. And then it was suddenly too quiet, and Estelle was gone. If not for her coat, hastily abandoned outside the manor walls, Elouan might never have known where to find her.

His sister gave no response. Was she hurt, or just ignoring him? Gritting his teeth, Elouan looked around. He had to get onto that roof.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure approaching, and his shoulders sagged with relief. Aunt Homura was back, and she could help him. Everything would be okay.

He did a double-take, and his blood turned to ice.

“M-mother!”

Lady de Borel stopped beside him. A leather sack hung off her shoulder.

“Elouan?” she asked, brow knit. “What are you doing outside?”

He scrambled for an answer but could find none, mouth flapping like that of a fish. He couldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t. No matter what it cost him.

His mother looked down at the ground, gaze falling on Estelle's shed coat. Elouan froze. His mother looked upwards, towards the roof of the manor. Her mouth set into a firm line, eyes hardening. Elouan swallowed.”

This was it. This was the end. He was dead. She knew now that he could not be trusted, that he had let little Estelle run wild and put herself in danger.

“Elouan,” she began, voice flinty. “Where is your Aunt Homura?”

“Th-the Jeweled Crozier. She said... she said she'd be right back.”

“I see.”

Elouan tried to memorize the outside of the manor. He would carry the image of it with him to the Fury’s hallowed halls.

“Play along,” his mother whispered before pitching her voice loudly towards the roof. “Elouan, my light! I am so happy to see you!”

He stared at her. She nodded her head towards the roof. Confused, he replied in the same volume, “As I am you, Mother.”

A startled gasp of “Mama!” came from above.

“Have you seen your sister?” his mother asked. “I have gifts for you both, and I should so like to present them together.”

Heart sinking, Elouan looked to the ground. Was she truly going to make him admit his failure like a mummer in a play? The cruelty seemed unlike her.

Before he could answer, however, a voice rang out from the roof.

“Dum da dummm! Behol! Stel, the Azoor Dragon!” shouted Estelle. With a branch in hand, she struck a pose.

“Estelle, my star, what are you doing up there? And without your coat?”

Estelle slumped.

“Mama,” she whined, “Dragons need no coats!”

“Estelle.” Their mother’s voice was firmer now. “You know you cannot go out without a coat.”

“Stel did go with coat! Then took it off.”

Their mother paused. Irritation creased her features for but a moment, and then called, “Estelle? Pray wait there. I’ll be right up to get you.”

“Dragons need no coats!” Estelle repeated. “And dragons need no help to fly!”

She backed away from the edge.

Elouan felt his pulse gallop.

She wouldn’t.

“Estelle?” their mother called hoarsely. Frantic, she looked around for a way up.

Estelle leapt from the rooftop.

Heart in his throat, Elouan brought his hands to his mouth. He was worse than dead, he would be disowned. Everything, gone in an instant, and he would be sent back—

Miraculously, a pair of leathery blue wings sprouted from his baby sister’s back. Instead of falling, she glided gently downwards, landing in their mother’s outstretched arms. The wings detached, revealing themselves to be those of a cobalt dragonet’s.

The creature chortled. “We'll make a dragon of you yet, little one!”

Estelle squealed in delight.

“Kal Myhk,” greeted their mother with a tight smile. “Pray remember that man ages by year and not by experience. I would ask to to refrain from aiding my daughter in flight until she is much older.”

The little dragonet seemed to consider this, then looped backwards through the air.

“Far be it from me to disrespect a mother’s wishes. My apologies, Shirayume. Know that I would have let no ill befall her.”

“I know, Kal Myhk. Thank you.”

Just then, another figure approached them, bag in hand and waving brightly.

“Oh, Nami, you’re home early! Hi!”

Elouan’s aunt Homura took in the scene before her: the three Borels standing outside, the dragonet hovering nearby, Estelle’s shed coat, and the tight grip their mother held onto Estelle’s waist. The smile fell from Aunt Homura’s lips.

Flatly, and with a light blush, she said, “Oh... Estelle got onto the roof again, didn’t she.”

Their mother went so still that Elouan flinched.

“Again?” Her tone was frost incarnate. Aunt Homura withered under his mother’s countenance. Elouan couldn’t blame her.

An argument followed in quick, quiet Doman. While Elouan had been learning his mother’s native tongue, they spoke too quickly for him to follow. He caught only snippets, words that sounded like “irresponsible” and “send home.”

Dread crept over him. They really were going to send him back.

Elouan could not help himself; he ran. He ran past the front door, up the stairs, and into his room, tears falling in his wake. Upon the soft down of his bed, he wept, grieving all he was to lose. A roof over his head. A warm, dry place to sleep. Hot, regular meals. A loving mother and father. Estelle.

“Elouan?” a voice called into his—well, what would no longer be his—room. He looked up through bleary eyes.

“Lady de Borel,” he croaked. He rubbed his eyes. The tears could not be hidden, but he could at least look a little more presentable. Though it mattered little, he thought glumly. “Is your daughter well?”

His former mother looked at him strangely.

“Estelle is with Aunt Hilda.”

“Aunt Hilda is here?”

Good, he could say goodbye to her, too, then.

“Fortunately,” she answered, syllables clipped. Her features returned to that strange puzzlement. “Elouan, is something the matter?”

He could not meet her gaze. “No, my lady.”

“Then why the formality? You haven't spoken to me so since—” She stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening. Alarmed, she stared at him. “Elouan, you can't possibly think—”

“I'm sorry, my lady, for failing you. This was a happy home for me, while it lasted.” His voice broke on the last few words. He hated that weakness. Tears welled in his eyes, and he blinked them furiously away.

Lady de Borel knelt before him, voice a whisper. “Elouan... failing me in what?”

“I did not protect your trueborn daughter.”

Finally, he looked into her eyes. She met his determined stare with soft, shimmering pain.

“Elouan, my light. You have failed no one, and even had you, you would not be going anywhere. You are not going anywhere. This is your home.”

“B-but I—” He could not stop the tears. “I messed up.”

“You did nothing of the sort,” she told him as she ran a hand through his hair.

“P-papa always says I must watch out for Estelle.”

"Because you are the eldest, sweetling. Not because she has greater import. You are both our children.”

He let himself fall into her arms then and weep. She held him tightly, whispering words of comfort and rubbing small circles against his back. The thought of losing this sent him into wracking sobs all over again.

He had no idea how long they stood like that, but Elouan only knew he was happy to be home.

[talvi-tuuli]

Breath ( ´ ▽ ` )

It's cool to be under the rain, but not to be sick!

Don't worry Elouan! Your umbrella is on its way! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

[maulie-dyke]

All My Dreams Take Place in Heaven, Where It's Quiet Lying Next To You

For @novaemberbingo 2023: Prompt- Outfit + Library

Cyrille paced back and forth across her bedroom, hands twisting around each other, well aware she was spiralling into a panic but completely uncaring all the same.

“I can’t do this. Everyone will be able to tell.”

Elouan, from where he was lounging across their bed, responded, “You can do this, darling. Do you remember what I told you when you first told me?”

He rolled over to face her and opened an arm, beckoning her to join him. Sighing deeply, she walked to the edge of the bed and flopped into his waiting arms, shoving her face into his shoulder.

“Tell me again, Elouan,” she said, absently rubbing circles into Elouan’s arm.

“I said: I’m in a bit of awe, I thought you were Cyrille’s sister or something. You could go to court in a dress and no one would be able to tell you were born a man. And then you punched me for being insensitive.”

“I did…and it seems to have worked. You’re the only person who really sees me. But…I don’t know…are you sure nobody will recognize me? If even one person thinks they’ve seen me before and puts it together, I’ll lose my job, my status, and will be decapitated and burned alive!” She was getting frantic, her heart pounding through her chest, breath quickening to a frantic wheezing. 

“It will be fine, everything will be fine. Here, breathe with me,” Elouan grabbed her hands and tucked her further into his chest, encouraging her to match her breathing to the movement of his chest, “If it gets to be too much, then we can just come back home, make a nice cup of tea, and I’ll read you some poetry or something.”

“That sounds a lot nicer than what I thought I’d do,” she replied, muffled into her lover’s chest. It was becoming easier to breathe, easier to exist without the world seeming like too much. 

“And what would that be? I’m assuming something impulsive, knowing you.” Elouan wasn’t as subtle as he liked to think he was. Cyrille was well aware that he was trying to distract her out of her panic, and worse yet, it was actually working. 

Sighing, she responded, “Maybe…I was probably going to get overwhelmed and run back home as quickly as I could. Probably be crying as well, then shut myself in here, never to be seen again.” 

Elouan laughed at her dramatics, a lovely, undignified snort that made her giggle every time. “Yeah, I think my idea is better.”

“You think pretty highly of yourself, Elouan,” she teased, pulling away from his embrace to get dressed into her favourite outfit- her sole dress, the solitary set in her vast closet that actually felt like herself. 

Wriggling into her stays, she turned to Elouan, silently requesting his help in lacing everything up and adjusting the extra bits and bobs that gave the illusion of a full bust and wide hips, rather than her narrow chest and narrower pelvis. 

Elouan sighed affectionately at her as he responded, “Shush, Cyrille. What do you say?”

“Alright,” she sighed, running her fingers across the luxurious blue silk of the dress she held. Spinning to face her lover, she put on her best ‘you love me so you’ll do what I want’ face, and asked, “Can we go to the library? I’d like to see if they have some texts about demonic possession and witchcraft.”

“Is this about that necromancy expert I hired? Again?” She knew her lover well enough to know he was exasperated at her bringing up his ‘expert’s’ questionable expertise, but all the while amused at her sincerity. 

Well, Elouan would say she was like a dog with a rope, stubborn and unwilling to let go of a topic. Tomato, tomato.

✯✯✯✯✯

Ambling their way through the streets hand in hand with Elouan, Cyrille was not freaking out, thank you very much. She was fine. Not nervous. Completely normal, going about her completely normal day with her completely normal boyfriend. She’s not nervous, shut up. 

“So…how is it?” Elouan spoke up from beside her, his warm brown eyes focusing on her face. 

Nervously tapping her fingers across the back of the hand she was holding, she responded, “It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be. Nobody’s giving me weird looks yet. I am still very nervous though.”

“See! I told you! Unrecognizable, especially with your hair up. Everything will be fine, trust me,” Elouan said, beaming, as he ushered her up the steps of the library. 

“I’ll try,” she sighed, dropping her voice to a whisper as they entered the quiet environment. She may have trouble with situational awareness, but she knew enough to know you were quiet in a library. Thanks , mother. 

“But you might have been right on coming out here. A rare occasion,” she continued. 

They were deep within the folklore section by that point, and Cyrille was left hoping that there would be at least one text that was missed when any and all of the books containing topics ‘wrought upon by the devil’ had been last purged. Alas, her luck was nonexistent. 

She groaned and dropped her head onto a bookshelf, hoping they were deep enough in the bowels of the library so she wouldn't be stared at too closely. 

“Hey! I’m right most of the time,” Elouan responded, reshelving a book she had pulled out in her research. 

“Sure, Elouan. Say whatever you need to make yourself feel better,” she quipped.

“Oh, be quiet Cyrille.”

Giving up, she returned her final book to its spot and turned to her lover. “I think not. Anyways, do you want to go to the market? I want some flowers for our bedroom.”

“Sure, I think we may need some bread as well. And I’d like to buy you a new hair ribbon.”

“Elouan! You don’t have to,” she protested. It seemed like every time they went to the market for one thing or another she returned with yet again another hair ribbon, sparkly trinket, or some other object that had caught Elouan’s eye.

“I want to! Pretty ladies shouldn’t have to buy their own hair ribbons,” he said, ushering her from the library, offering his arm as they made their way back down the stairs. A true gentleman, her lover was. 

“Well, if you are insisting, I won’t stop you,” she teased. 

Elouan laughed, victorious, as she turned her gaze to her lover, basking in his vibrant joy. 

____Author's Note____

I wanted to get SOMETHING out for Novaember before November actually ends, as I am a full-time student about to go into final exams (rip), and am by far a much better (and faster) academic writer, so here's something that's been in my drafts for months half-finished. I'm planning on doing a bunch more of the prompts, but no promises that anything else will actually be out during November.

This is completely un-beta'd, so some grace and/or tips on whether this is actually accurate to the characters would be appreciated- especially since I've never a) written men or b) dated/liked men so hopefully Elouan doesn't read too much like a butch lesbian. Big thanks to my roommate for listening to my complaints and questions while writing this- especially considering the fact that she's never read the comic lol.

Title is from 'Crying During Sex' by Ethel Cain

Historical notes:

-- Cyrille isn't being dramatic when she's talking about how she would be murdered for being trans- if anything she's understating. The likeliest punishment would be decapitation, since she's canonically nobility, and/or burning at the stake, for 'gender fuckery'. -- All of the outfit pieces described are historical pieces that would have been worn at the time- with some additions based on what I think would have been done for gender affirmation, as I couldn't find any sources on what that would have looked like at the time. The best place for accuracy in historical clothing that I've found is costuming books, if you're interested. -- This isn't explicitly talked about in this fic, but Elouan's last name (Losa) indicates that he is either Spanish or Italian, and means 'slate'. Cyrille's surname (Valois) definitely indicates French nobility and may have connections to the historical House of Valois, who ruled France for about 250 years (would LOVE author confirmation/denial on this at some point). If she is descended from the House of Valois, it's likely through her mother's line, as the reason they lost the throne was that there was an absence of men the crown could go to (I like to think that Cyrille, by either a family curse or simply bad luck, is the first AMAB person in the Valois line since)

Not a historical note but still kind of important:

-- I write Cyrille as Autistic (or at least somewhere on the ASD spectrum) because I can see a ton of similarities between how Cyrille is written and my personal experiences with being Autistic, so she's also autistic. If you want the meta, let me know lol :)

Playlist!

[occult-roommates]

I became an uncle recently (a close friend gave birth earlier this week but ever since we were in high school a decade ago I've always said I was gonna be the cool gay uncle for her children).