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driftward · 2 months ago

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Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - Free Day 2 - 15. Contest Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Y'shtola Rhul Rating: Teen Summary: And for the winner, a shared reward Notes: WoL|Sette

Zoissette and Klynt circled each other slowly. Zoissette with her shield up, twirling her sword in her other hand. Klynt keeping her spear in ready position.

"Begin!" called out Thancred, and the two rushed each other in a blur, coming to clash in the middle of the ring.

Y'shtola leaned forward with excitement, her eyes twinkling, as she watched a veritable spray of aether in their wake, their energies washing against one another. It was rare that she was able to just sit back and watch Zoissette at work, especially under circumstances that did not portend terrible consequences for the star.

And what a treat it was, to watch her lady knight. To watch how the star-like sparkle of her aether lit up and brightened, bright shining constellations meeting the ripples of crashing waves in Klynt's aether, even as they built to a tsunami. She sharpened her effort and expanded her sight, so she could also enjoy fully the power of their forms. Muscles flexing, speed on full display, Zoissette flexing under blows, eyes carefully looking for openings. Rapidly bringing her shield to bear against Klynt's twisting serpentine onslaught. Pivoting, parrying, and then the explosion of movement as she made an opening, catching Klynt off guard, and fully exploited it.

Thancred circled the outside of the ring, watching both contestants carefully, before shouting for them to break. They immediately pulled back to their starting positions, breathing heavily, Klynt with her shark like grin, Zoissette with a less predatory but no less triumphant smile.

Next to her, Lyse cheered, throwing a fist in the air as she cupped a hand to her mouth. On the other side, Alphinaud held a hand to his mouth, and even covered his eyes, wincing. Y'shtola chuckled at him, but spared not much more attention to them or any of her other companions, returning her attention to the ring, waiting for the match to resume.

Her paramour would have the fullness of her attention today.

Thancred called for a start once more, and the two leapt into combat again. Y'shtola felt as well as heard Lyse sigh. "I miss the days when we would spar," she said. "I'm glad that I was able to at least witness this during my short visit here. Gods, I think they've both gotten even faster somehow."

Y'shtola just smiled, not turning her attention away from the ring. "Surely you are not allowing yourself to grow soft in your new role as a leader, are you, Lyse? What would Papalymo say to know you were letting yourself go so?"

She was teasing, and the swat against her shoulder let her know it was well received. "Oh, don't you even! I can still keep up with the best of them, you know. And he'd probably say something like 'thank goodness she finally learned to use her head before her fists' or... something like that."

The two laughed, and the fight continued. Aether flew as weapons whirled through the air. Bodies clashed, forward and back, a fight eternal, neither willing to let ground.

Y'shtola knew how these training bouts usually went. She thought to perhaps pen the script a little differently this day.

"A kiss for the winner," she called out, and heard Lyse let out a gasping giggle even as Alphinaud groaned.

"I cannot watch this," he muttered.

Y'shtola suspected that if she stole a peak at him, she would see him with his eyes covered, but a gap between his fingers to watch the show. But it was not him who had her eye.

In the ring, she saw the shift in Zoissette's posture.

Klynt noticed as well, and adjusted accordingly, backing away far enough to grin viciously at Zoissette and make a 'come hither' gesture.

Zoissette did not move. Crouched. Eyes seeming to look everywhere at once. Klynt began to settle into a low stance to receive her.

She was already there.

The fight was vicious from there, far more heated than before. Klynt crowed, exulting in the new challenge, but Zoissette went quiet. She was inside Klynt's guard, briefly. She was taking shots she normally wouldn't. She was taking hits she usually wouldn't to jockey for superior positioning, seeming to have weighed ahead of time what she was willing to endure and what she could not. It may have looked like she was losing.

But the ring had rules, and Zoissette was very good at games, and more importantly, very good at math. When Thancred finally called the match, both contestants were exhausted, tired, wavering on their feet.

And Zoissette was far ahead on points.

Klynt groaned good-naturedly as everyone cheered, and she met Zoissette in the middle of the ring for their handshake, then they both pulled each other into a hug, laughing, smiling.

"You're damned dirty at this, 'Sette." she groused cheerfully.

"Not my fault you always ignore the points," replied Zoissette. "You cannot just bully your way past every problem, Klynt."

"Can too," Klynt retorted. "Every problem 'cept one. Go get your kiss."

Zoissette laughed, and the two separated, Klynt heading towards G'raha for healing, Zoissette towards Y'shtola, who was standing on the edge of the ring, waiting for her.

She was a goddess.

Tall, sweat marring her face, water from her eyes, hair a sticky clump. Y'shtola held her arms out to her to receive her, and oh, the wonders of her form, of who she was, what she was. Wiry, strong Elezen muscles like cables giving an exaggeration to her movements. That tired but happy smile that graced her face, a genuine expression of real triumph. A kindness that never left her eyes.

She crouched for Y'shtola, and Y'shtola kissed her deeply, enjoying the closeness. The heat of a body recently pushed so hard. The smells, of sweat, of Zoissette's humanity, the faint oil for her armor and leathers, the tinge of expended aether, it was all a delightfully heady musk that filled Y'shtola's nose and she breathed it in deep. It was all a reminder of how alive they both were.

She broke the kiss, and held Zoissette's face in her hands. "I shall enjoy acting as your squire, if you've no more obligations for the day requiring your attentions and arms?" she said quietly.

"Let me give the crowd what they want, and I'll be along in just a few minutes," said Zoissette.

Y'shtola nodded, and took a step back as Zoissette stood up, allowing her some space. As she did so, a wave of people who had been waiting flowed in, cheerfully chattering at her, clapping her shoulders, congratulating her on the bout.

Lyse came up to Y'shtola's side, and nudged her in the ribs.

"Cheeky," she said, cheerfully.

Y'shtola just winked at her and shrugged.

It was just over a bell later when they were in Zoissette's room. The bout area had been cleaned up, last exchanges had, well wishes and cheerful taunts about next time exchanged, and now it was just the two of them.

Zoissette stood still, arms at her sides, relaxed, as Y'shtola worked around her. Of course, Zoissette had spellwork at her disposal that allowed her to summon and dismiss sets of her gear from void space at a moment's notice while in the field. What was suited to mining was not suited to the duty of a knight was not particularly well suited to scholarly work, and she could adjust to fit the situation quickly. However, it would still need to be put on in the first place, and when she did not think there would be a need for such immediate shifting, she liked to remove her gear for storage. It still needed taken care of, after all, and that could not be done easily while it was being worn. Enchantments would need to be given additional aether, materia shined and resoldered periodically, metal polished and leather oiled.

It was the kind of work she could not do alone. And while Y'shtola may not have been a true squire, she knew what needed to be done, and over the course of their time together had grown quite accustomed to it.

And she found that she rather enjoyed these moments of tending to her knight. Perhaps it was the intimacy of it, of being in close proximity to one another. Of deft fingers feeling the warmth of a body recently exercised as she undid clasps and unwound ties.

"Arm up," she said, and Zoissette lifted her arm, responding immediately. Maybe it was the delight in having the knight pliable and obedient to her words. Zoissette was powerful, that was not in question, and that power now answered to her word, to her commands. Zoissette trusted her wholly, and obeyed without hesitation, and that was its own delight.

Maybe it was seeing Zoissette uniquely vulnerable, as layers of armor were removed and set aside, revealing more and more of the woman beneath them. Literal armor being removed, but also a kind of emotional nakedness. Y'shtola got to see Zoissette how few would, her skin streaked with dirty and blood, her gambeson stained with sweat, her hair clumped in a thick matted cord.

She was rarely so beautiful.

At last, Zoissette was nude, armor neatly stacked to one side, underclothing in a basket ready for laundry. A task for later. Right now, it was the knight that needed tending to, and Y'shtola would tend to her. She stripped down herself, and soon, the two were in the shower, Zoissette dutifully standing there while Y'shtola washed her clean of the detritus of the match.

This was a blessing. Zoissette did not need much healing magicks after a friendly bout, and Y'shtola was able to apply them without having to feel the twinges and pangs that came with tending deep wounds and applying stitches. Zoissette was hurt- neither she nor Klynt played gently- but this work was that of rubbing knots out, conjurey seeing to small cuts and abrasions, the flat of a palm against a muscle as aether flowed and humors set to rights. Minor works. Pleasurable, under these circumstances. And Zoissette made such delightful little murring noises as Y'shtola worked on her, as fingers untangled knots in her hair, as hands played over curves, partly healing, partly something more.

Too often, more often than Y'shtola cared for, Zoissette would be in a state after a fight, tired and bedraggled, barely keeping herself on her feet while she was tended to. But a good fight, a clean fight, a solid practice match, a joyful bout, these were different. Fighting for the star was one thing. Fighting for the challenge of it was quite another, and she found Zoissette often invigorated after such contest. Her body well exercised, her blood made to soar and pump heatedly, her mind working at solving the puzzle of her opponent. It tended to put her in a good mood, and Y'shtola now tested that mood as the water was turned off, pressing her body against Zoissette's back, a hand reaching around and forward to play against her stomach - ah, such muscle! - and tease downwards.

Zoissette responded favorably, turning to face Y'shtola, a smile on her face, hands reaching to explore Y'shtola.

Y'shtola hooked a hand on Zoissette's shoulder and pulled her down towards her. "Come here," she said, "That I may find my purchase upon you."

Their bodies pressed together hotly, their tongues eager between their lips, their passion cleaving them as one. It was now time for an altogether different sort of challenge, a contest as to what pleasures their bodies would endure for as long as they wished them, as they left the bathroom and retired to their shared bed.

#ffxivwrite2024 #final fantasy xiv #zoissette vauban #y'shtola rhul #contest #202409-15 #biot writes

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driftward · 2 months ago

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Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 14. Telling Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Solita Grey Rating: Teen Summary: Solita has two hands and two clients. One's a gadfly, the other's an idiot, this is a vexing evening. Notes: Weird Wild West AU, a Desertwalkers story

Solita was enjoying the pleasant turn in the evening at the Cat's Eye cabaret.

Her date for the evening had momentarily vanished, saying he wished to go refresh himself before retiring for the night. The man was a well meaning Hrothgar gentleman from Bozja. Apparently interested in local opportunities which he could leverage for his concerns back home. Kind enough, but she got the distinct impression he was not quite taking her seriously. He asked the right sort of questions, asking for her expertise on many matters, but was perhaps a bit too fond of his jests, and often seemed distracted. He had not been quite rude, nor quite condescending, but, well.

It was frustrating. But that was a common enough state of affairs in her line of work. She took a sip of her champagne. For all that, though, he had been charming, and had a likable demeanor. If he did not wish to heed her, that would be rather more his problem than hers, and she had high hopes for the momentary entertainments of the evening. In the morning, he would be on his way, and she could review what she had learned with the others.

For now, she found herself simply enjoying the atmosphere of the cabaret. She exulted in her senses, the taste of fine liquor on her tongue, the slightly spicy smell of people and cedar and food and drink that wafted through the air, the thrum of the music through the floorboards, the visual spectacle of dancers on the stage. Even the auras of the place were flowing and pulsing pleasantly, the Weave choosing to reflect everyone's good mood.

Her work could be frustrating at times, but it also had its perks, and moments like this were among them. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and just took it all in.

"Ah! Mz. Grey! I was hoping I would find you here!"

She pondered, for the briefest of moments, about the sheer relief and joy she might feel in getting help from Thancred to hide a body.

When she opened her eyes, she could see the bright starriness of Zoissette's aura before she caught sight of her big stupid grinning face.

Her ears went back immediately.

Zoissette didn't notice. She had one of her notebooks open, and was excitedly pointing at her entries in it.

"The petrified forest was a revelation! I have finished my spectral analysis, and you would not believe the aspects of the aether I found within them. Well, maybe you would, actually. I managed to confirm some of your-"

Solita reached up and grabbed the collaring on Zoissette's dress, pulling her ear down to mouth level.

"I am with another client tonight," she hissed. "Make an appointment."

Zoissette's expression immediately shifted to mild horror, and she cleared her throat as Solita let her go. "Oh, I apolo-"

"Why hello! Who's this!" boomed a cheerful voice.

Solita took a deep breath and forced a smile as she turned. The Hrothgar gentlemen had returned, and he took her hand, bowing deep to give it a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, before turning his attention to Zoissette, giving her a friendly smile.

"Hello, dear," said Solita stiffly. "Zoissette, this is the esteemed Pretorad Desasch, a gentleman from Bozja. Pretorad, this is Zoissette Vauban, who I believe was just stopping by on her way home."

Solita watched Zoissette sharply. Not giving a full introduction could be considered rude, but she did not particularly care just this moment. However, as she spoke, she could see Zoissette shift. The woman stood up a little straighter. Her previously open expression faded to a detached half smile. Her posture shifted, her arms pulling in to her sides, and she somehow made herself look more ... presentable? Elegant?

Not quite. Solita could now see what Thancred had already pointed out to her in an earlier conversation. Zoissette was a member of the gentry, possibly even nobility. She always had a certain poise and posture to her, but previously it had been open, care free. Now she was closed off but presentable, lightly guarded, somehow in that twilight between welcoming but not truly universally approachable.

This was a woman who was used to the upper echelons of the spoken and unspoken languages of power. A place where Solita herself lived these days, as part of her work.

"Pretorad Desasch, I do not believe I have known the pleasure," said Zoissette, her voice more airy than usual. Distant. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I must offer my sincere apologies, however, as the Mz. Grey has the right of it. I am only recently returned from my errands, and perhaps should be heading for my home."

Zoissette offered a curtsy. Her words and tone were polite. She was being mildly deferential.

"Nonsense," said Pretorad, as he wrapped one arm around Solita and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Any friend of Solita's is a friend worth getting to know. Come, stay with us a moment! Tell me, Lady Vauban, was it? What do you do around here?"

He gestured at the bartender while Solita continued to stare daggers at Zoissette. "I would say she is perhaps more of an acquaintance."

"Well, as mentioned, Mz. Grey has the right of it, and I do not wish to bother either of you much longer," said Zoissette, her face still wearing that distant half-smile. "But if the sir must know, I am a naturalist. My interests lie in the local flora, fauna, and histories."

"Oh, and were you trying to hide this gem from me, dear Solita?" asked Pretorad, laughing. "Or perhaps you were eager to retire for the night? But please, Lady Vauban, entertain me for a few questions, would you?"

Zoissette tilted her head, a question. But in the motion was a subtlety. The tilt was towards Solita, and angled so that Solita could see her eyes despite her glasses, see that she was clearly looking to her. Solita, after a moment's hesitation and thought, gave the slightest nod. There was little helping the matter now, she decided. Might as well get this over with and quickly, if possible.

Zoissette gave Pretorad a curtsey, and Pretorad waved his hand towards the barkeep. "Splendid! Simply splendid. Three drinks, my good man, whatever they like, and I'll have some of that local specialty, what's it called? Mezzal?"

"Mezcal, sir," said Zoissette politely. "I shall follow the gentleman's example."

Solita simply gestured for the barkeep to top of her glass, and he nodded. It did not take him long to provide their drinks to them, and Pretorad leaned his back against the bar, facing outward. Space enough for Solita on one side, but able to keep his attention on Zoissette on the other.

"A naturalist! Tell me more. Anything currently have your interest?"

"Verification of local histories and folklore while I survey the local landscape. There is a cornucopia of information to be gleaned for those who seek it. I am only recently back from an expedition, and Mz. Grey's services proved invaluable in its success."

Zoissette gestured at Solita as she spoke, and bowed her head towards her.

"Surveying, hmm?" said Pretorad thoughtfully. He glanced over at Solita. "And how did the seer's insight help with that?"

"She knows the local area far better than I, and its histories, as well as having an intimacy with the land that I lack. Her findings, combined with my own, enabled me to create a more accurate map with increased fidelity and previously uncharted information on aetheric densities in the area I explored."

"Fascinating, fascinating, simply fascinating! Aetheric densities, hmm? Well, wonders never cease, when it comes to wonders! Any plans for another expedition?"

"Ah. Well. When she is once more able to spare some time for me, I was hoping to gain her insight to the fields to the north, and perhaps begin another survey."

"Hmn. Might I be able to convince you to show me where you are speaking of?"

Zoissette hesitated, slightly, but after a moment, she pulled a map out of one of her bags, and carefully laid it out over two nearby barstools. She pointed as she spoke. "This is not a political map, so kindly overlook the lack of recognizable landmarks. I can tell you that Stonewood, where we are now, is here; my prior surveys happened in the grasslands not so far from here. And here, near the southern buttes, and here, in the petrified forest. My next survey I intend to perform shall be here, the outer ceruleum fields."

Pretorad looked over the map with a practiced eye, rubbing his chin. "Interesting," he murmured. He glanced over at Solita. "Some of these are places I too am curious about. I notice you updated the topographical markers, and made note of mineral veins and other such areas of interest. And these markings?"

"The aforementioned Aetheric readings. You may use the guide in the lower corner, sir."

"Hah hah! Of course, of course. And next, I cannot help but notice that is near the outer ceruleum fields. I believe they are yet virgin. Perhaps trying to get in on a little early tapping action, hmn?"

Zoissette stiffened slightly, and while Solita remained outwardly relaxed, she felt a twinge of alert.

"My interests, I assure you sir, are not commercial in nature."

Pretorad laughed at that. "Of course not, of course not! A naturalist would never sully their good name with such matters, I am certain. Why, they know every number except the economic, am I right? The quantity of every mass, but the value of none, to mangle a phrase? Hah hah hah!"

Zoissette froze for a moment, and Solita was immediately very on edge. She did not know fully which insults that Zoissette was prone to taking exception to, but this was one of Pretorad's not-quite-rude comments she herself had been diplomatically ignoring all night. But now she wondered if she would be having to deal with her client being stabbed.

But then, Zoissette laughed, a hollow, tittering thing. "Ah, of course, good sir, of course," she said stiffly.

"The sir may know the price of ceruleum futures, but 'tis the naturalist that sees the value beyond the economic. Such true value may be a question of taste, but if the good sir cannot see nor understand that which the naturalist values, he will find himself all the poorer for it," said Solita bitingly. She was not sure why she had been so deferential tonight, anyroad. The man was pleasant, but becoming a boor, and she nor her reputation would suffer fools.

Galling though it was to be stuck mediating between a fool and an idiot.

"My, I'd almost forgotten what a sharp tongue you have," said Pretorad cooly. He reached over to gently curl a finger under Solita's chin, and smiled kindly at her. "I hope to not find out anything about the sharpness of those teeth, later.

"But! You are right, and I would be more the fool to not heed your counsel which I am paying handsomely for, after all," he said, letting his hand drop. "My apologies to both of you, ladies."

Zoissette relaxed, and curtsied. "I accept your apology, and choose to take no further offense, sir."

Solita just made a small noise of assent and sipped her champagne.

"Hah! Well, thank you, my lady. My, you certainly know your manners," he said thoughtfully. "And your terrain," he added, gesturing at the map, which Zoissette reached for and began to roll up. "I wonder what you might say to a potential sponsorship, assuming you aren't self sponsored or don't already have one? Even if you do, I think I would be best pleased to offer my support. Or even just purchase first rights, whatever that would cost me. You've the seer's faith, it seems, and now that I've seen your work, I think I would like to pay for my own faith in your future work."

Solita watched this exchange with mild interest. Zoissette did not tense up again, and this was rather more like the business sort of conversation she had been hired on for with Pretorad.

"I appreciate your interest, sir," said Zoissette. "However, I find myself deferring to the Lady Grey. My work would not be possible without hers. I would prefer that you confer with her, and perhaps she can serve as a necessary intermediary between your business and mine."

"Oh, of course, of course," said Pretorad thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He set his drink down. "Ah! I have forgotten my case and papers back at our table from earlier. How remiss of me to not bring them along for such important discussion. If you will give me a moment, I shall return."

He bowed to Zoissette, who curtsied in turn, then turn and gently took Solita's hand to give it a kiss. She gifted him with a smile, and a gentle wave.

As he left passed out of close distance, she turned on Zoissette just in time to see the woman deflate, turning to hold herself up against the bar.

She looked some kind of miserable, and Solita felt a pang of concern despite herself.

"I had forgotten how tiring all this could be," she said. "I meant to apologize earlier, Mz. Grey. I would not intentionally interfere with your work. And I must apologize now. I think, that I will be taking my leave."

Solita looked over at where Pretorad apparently was just finding his glasses in his briefcase, and beginning to flip through some papers he seemed to always have near or on him.

"He shall wonder at your absence," she said.

"Ah, the usual excuses shall suffice. I hate to be a further burden, but just tell him I excused myself with a case of the vapors. I doubt he is the type to be rude enough to insist on inquiring further after that. He should recognize the excuse for what it is." She paused. "Should." Another moment. "I hate all these stupid games."

"You seems to excel at playing these games of words and meaning," said Solita, feeling faintly baffled.

"I excel at being -polite-, which I choose to be," said Zoissette stiffly. "And - no. Forget it. I apologize, again. Good night, Solita."

Solita frowned at her as she went. "Hold a moment, if you would."

Zoissette paused.

"...you can make arrangements through Mz. Gohtawyn, if you still wish to speak to your findings."

Zoissette turned to her with a pained smile, pushing up her glasses, and just shook her head slightly.

"I will not waste any more of your time on this," she said. "Do not worry. If you are truly curious, I will publish to our local library before next season. Your contributions will be noted, and I do intend to seek you out before I make for my next survey. Take care, Mz. Grey."

Zoissette left, allowing no time for further comment, and Solita was left at the bar, feeling oddly bemused at the exchange.

Pretorad returned, with his case, holding some papers, looking around curiously as he did so.

Solita gestured to him with a champagne glass. "The Lady Vauban has retired for the evening."

"Has she now? I suspected as much. Damned shame, but understandable. I hope you're not too upset at my attempt to poach such a gem from your hand. I was told of your reputation, but to see the exact caliber of person in your orbit! Hmn. And her bearing... former military on top of all that, I'd wager. I have been short sighted."

Solita wanted to protest, but did not, instead just swirling her champagne in her glass. "More the fool you, then. You know my reputation. I can hardly fault you for not taking me at face value, but perhaps you might have verified such yourself."

"Hah! Forgive me my methods, but if you'll allow, I find that I have done exactly that."

"Well I hope you find yourself satisfied," said Solita, finishing her drink. She was tired of tonight, between these two. "Perhaps we might retire for the evening as well?"

He set down his papers. "Business before pleasure, if you don't mind. Indulge me?"

"If you insist."

They both sat down at the bar, and he began to go over his interests in the area once more, conversations they had already had. But this time, she noticed, to her rather deep annoyance, that he was paying more attention this time around, seemed more inclined to heed her words. Earlier in the day he had been more boisterous, more cheerful, almost at play. But now, he was clearly being more serious about matters, taking notes, deferring to her very expensive expertise.

She took the matter professionally, and hid her annoyance. At least he was finally taking her seriously, and frankly, that did give her a sense of satisfaction. As their conversation winded into the late hours and resolved, and they at last retired, Solita had one last annoyance, however, as she found herself wondering after one Zoissette Vauban.

#ffxivwrite2024 #final fantasy xiv #zoissette vauban #solita grey #telling #202409-15 #biot writes #driftward

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