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raelly-writing · 16 days ago

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Safe and Solid (Wolcred, 6.0 MSQ)

In from the Cold follow up fic. :') It's haunted my WIP folder for over a year and I'd really like to call it done so I don't have to deal with this headspace anymore.

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“Are you quite certain you are feeling alright?”

The question was expected - even when her visitor was just about to leave her room.

Before Viana even had a chance to think of it, the well-worn excuse slipped off her tongue. “Of course, Y’shtola,” she replied with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m just a little tired after the journey from Garlemald. Airships don’t exactly make for comfortable sleeping arrangements after all.”

Something jagged, cold and ugly stirred in her chest. The urge to scratch at the itch crawling over her skin was maddening, but she fought it down by crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.

A week had passed, dammit.

Y’shtola’s pale eyes narrowed, as though by peering into her aether, the lie would be laid as bare as the ground after spring’s thaw. The sudden pang of guilt was sharp. It wasn’t a lie. Not really. Her unease wasn’t related to the events at the moon, anyhow.

She’d explained what happened. She’d talked about it. Told them.

She should be fine. Needed to be fine. There was no time for-

Clearing her throat, Viana ignored the rolling nausea in her stomach. “And if I were to feel anything that could be ill effects from being soaked in Zodiark’s aether,” she continued, “you are my first stop.”

A tension filled moment of silence followed as Y’shtola regarded her thoughtfully. “Fine,” she finally responded, but the unhappy way she pressed her lips together made it obvious she wasn’t convinced. “I’ll have no more foolish heroics on my watch.”

Despite the rancid taste at the back of her throat, Viana huffed out a short laugh. “Only if you promise not to do something that requires tossing yourself into the Lifestream again.”

“Hah!” Y’shtola tossed her head back, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Cheeky as always. Perhaps I have naught to worry about after all.”

Inclining her head, Viana offered her a smile that wasn’t entirely forced. “Thank you for checking on me Y’shtola, but I think I just need to sleep in a proper bed for once.”

Y’shtola hummed and put her hands on her hips. “Alright then. I’ll leave you to get your rest.”

The unspoken command was all too clear.

With a low chuckle, Viana nodded obediently. “Good night, Y’shtola.”

For a moment, she watched Y’shtola walk towards her own room, before she let the door close with a soft thud of finality.

Exhaling wearily, Viana turned around and leaned back against the sturdy wood as she regarded the room. In the wake of Y’shtola’s departure, the stillness settled over the space like a suffocating blanket that pressed down on her from every angle. A jittery energy prickled at her fingers, the churning sensation in her chest too strong to ignore.

It wasn’t the first time she found herself missing Ardbert’s ghostly presence.

Some things he’d just understood without her needing to explain.

Suddenly a shiver crawled over her skin and Viana’s eyes shot to the large window and the night beyond. Was that snowflakes that fluttered in the red gloom of the dying day? The sudden lump in her throat stole her breath away, and before she knew it, she’d crossed the room and yanked the curtains into place. The phantom ghost of winter nipped at her bare arms, prompting her to rub her hands over them.

Hells, when did her fingers get so cold?

The thought, as fleeting and innocent as it’d been, summoned uninvited memories from the corner of her mind that she’d done her best to shove them into for the past several days. Staring at her hands, she flexed them.

They were hers, weren’t they?

‘Borrowed flesh’.

Blinking, she struggled to draw breath.

Borrowed.

Polished black steel covered the arms before her. Pain stabbed at the side of her chest - sharp and piercing.

Burning ceruleum fumes stung in her nose, and the thick, iron taste of congealed blood in her mouth made her choke and tear up.

Borrowed.

But when she blinked again, the black steel was gone and no fatal gunshot was staining her white shirt with red.

Viana stared, doubt nagging at her mind as she traced the familiar latticework of pale scars covering the knuckles and fingers with her eyes.

Borrowed.

Fandaniel’s voice was like ice cold claws digging into the very fabric of her soul, poison bile eating away at her mind.

Borrowed.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Viana shut her eyes and tried to focus on the sensation of her hands on her own skin, the scratch of her blunt nails digging into her flesh. It was fine. Borrowed. She was herself. She had stopped him. Borrowed. She was in Sharlayan. In her room. Borrowed. Not struggling through the snow, stumbling over frozen stiff bodies amidst smoldering wreckages and crumbling ruins.

Borrowed. Borrowed.

She. Was. Fine.

Borrowed.

“Viana?”

Snapping ramrod straight, she whipped around, every muscle in her body coiled tight and heart racing from a surge of adrenaline. “Seven Hells Thancred!”

“You didn’t hear me the first two times.” Without taking his eyes off her, Thancred took off his dark overcoat, having evidently stood there halfway through the action, while trying to get her attention. She hadn’t even heard him entering in the first place. “Are you feeling ill?”

Despite his casual tone and relaxed body language, she could detect the undercurrent of concern in his voice. Even more so, the careful way he kept his attention on her, as though she was a particularly flighty animal. Hells, she certainly felt like one.

No answer came to her, not even the one she’d repeated so often. “I…” Viana shifted her weight onto her foot, her searching eyes falling on the empty tea cups left on the table. Turning away from him and his damned perceptive gaze, she walked over to collect them. “Sorry, I was deep in thought,” she responded firmly while walking over to the sink.

“Anything particular?”

Snorting, she flipped on the water with a little more force than was perhaps necessary and began to rinse out the cups. The heat of the water brought some warmth back to her numb fingers, and with it the world back a little more into focus, allowing her to gather a few scattered threads of her thoughts. “Oh you know, the end of the world as we know it.”

“Viana…”

Tension settled into her shoulders at the low, concerned rumble of his voice. A few quiet steps was all she heard before she felt the careful press of his fingertips against her lower back.

Inhaling sharply, she froze beneath his touch.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to unease you.”

Her skin burned where he’d touched her, but the moment he withdrew his hand she felt herself tremble like she was seconds from crumbling entirely. Was he leaving? Her whirlwind of thoughts and feelings refused to assemble into a coherent explanation, her plea for him to not leave getting caught and tangled in her throat.

The sharp clatter of porcelain against stone jerked her attention back to what she was doing.

“Shit,” she hissed and quickly picked up the cup and snapped off ear. Did she have any adhesive around?

“Viana…”

“I need to fix this,” she muttered. It was a clean break. The market should have something strong enough for it to hold. Was less she could do about the chipped edge but…

“Viana, stop.” A hand on her arm kept her from walking away from the sink. Immediately, she tensed up, breath caught in her throat and shoulders stiff, but Thancred didn’t jerk his hand back as before.

“I'm sorry,” he continued, “but you're obviously not alright.”

Clenching her jaw, Viana stared down unseeing at the pieces in her hands as she struggled to find the well-worn excuse. ‘I’m fine.’

She was.

She had to be. Too much was going on. But it felt like the words had turned to stone and settled in her chest, the weight of them making it hard to draw breath.

Dimly, she was aware of Thancred moving into her field of vision. His touch was a light whisper down along her arm, until he cradled her hands in his.

“Remember what we agreed on?” He spoke with a firm but gentle tone as he took the mug pieces from her trembling fingers and carefully set them down on the counter. “Don’t hide.”

His hands were warm against hers, steady and reassuring. She could sense him searching for her eyes, but she couldn’t make herself meet his gaze. Guilt tugged at her at the reminder of their hushed argument and subsequent promise in those final days they’d spent on the First. Hells, she’d been none too happy about him hiding the condition of his soul back then, and here she was doing the same thing.

It’d been so easy to avoid his concerned looks while they’d been traveling back from Garlemald - to just keep moving out of pure momentum and not let him, or any of them, catch her. Always keep busy with something, anything, to be the unbreakable figure the Alliance soldiers expected her to be.

“I’m sorry Thancred, I…“ She wet her lips as she clenched her hands, searching for the dull pain of her nails against her palms to jolt her back to reality. “I don’t know what to say.”

The quiet whisper felt like an admission of defeat. Drawing a shuddering breath, her shoulders slumped. She hadn’t felt this helpless since their desperate venture down beneath the sea to save the Exarch and face Emet-Selch. That time there’d been a goal, something to push towards even when she had felt her own body betray her more and more with every step.

Now… Now there was no such thing. Just an oppressive yet infuriatingly intangible threat of doom looming on the horizon.

A tremble shook her. Nevermind the sensation that she was losing the grip on what was real or not. The feeling of hot tears burning in her eyes was unfamiliar and all the more frustrating for it, driving her to turn her head away from Thancred.

But calloused fingers brushing against her jaw stopped her. “It's alright,” Thancred murmured as he rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve got you.”

Viana swallowed around the lump in her throat and reached out to grasp at his shirt. Borrowed. Why did she suddenly feel like a child afraid of being left alone in the dark? Without thinking, she tilted her head and pressed her lips to his.

Thancred’s surprised huff was muffled, but he swiftly recovered with practiced ease. The comforting weight of his arm settled around her waist, pulling her closer into the warmth of his embrace. The familiarity of it, of his fingertips skimming up her neck, the tickle of his hair against her cheekbones, the way his thumb rubbed small circles into her back, it all made her chest feel just a little bit lighter.

Peace. Safety. Trust.

Urged on by a sudden jolt of desperation for more she deepened the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip in a hollow display of playfulness while letting her fingers trace the edge of his choker. The low groan it earned her was immediately lost in the space between them as he rose to her goading and chased after her lips. She knew him, just as he knew her. The way his hands grasped at her hips betrayed his own need for contact, urging her to curve herself against his hard frame as she buried her fingers in his soft hair. Perhaps it was the time they’d spent in military encampments where privacy was as rare to come by as natural ice in the middle of a desert that led Thancred to so readily indulge her despite their tense conversation. She was barely aware of the press of the kitchen bench against her back when they stumbled against it, her thoughts too muddled and scattered.

“Viana…” With the rough utterance of her name, Thancred froze but didn’t pull away. His body radiated restrained energy even as his fingers flexed into the soft flesh of her thighs, his breath a warm tickle against her lips.

Like glass shattering under water pressure, Viana felt reality slam back into her as she gulped down a lungful of air. “I’m sorry. I just…” Borrowed. A cold sneer plastered onto a dead man’s stolen face flickered in her memory. Pressing her forehead against Thancred’s, she cupped his face as she tried to find the right words. “I’m not injured, love,” she finally choked out, trying to not think of the memory of congealed blood in her mouth. “But I don’t… it’s… I don’t want to think right now. I just want to…”

Feel.

Thancred pulled back enough to meet her gaze, the concern all too evident in his hazel eyes. Concern and something… else. Guilt churned in her stomach, but before she could say anything, his eyes softened with understanding and a lopsided smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s alright my dear,” he spoke softly. “I’m more than familiar with that desire.” Despite his reassuring rumble, there was an undercurrent of something rueful and bitter in his voice that made her heart ache with memories of long past horrors.

“Thancred…-”, Viana began to respond, instinctively wishing to soothe those scars he carried, but without warning he hoisted her up. Gripping at his shoulders for balance, her legs settled around his waist out of reflex.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured once more and brushed a kiss to her jaw, before giving her pulse a teasing nip with his teeth. “Always do.”

Even as a pleasant shiver raced down her spine, a little bit of the turmoil raging in her head settled then, anchored by his earnest words, and she managed a small, crooked smile. “I know you do,” she breathed.

Thancred looked up at her, his expression soft and loving. “Tell me to stop if you want me to.”

Hells, how she loved him. Viana caressed his cheek and gave a small nod. “Of course, love.”

They met in a slow brush of lips, something tender and reaffirming, but in the short distance to the bed the kiss had grown hungry and desperate, with no room to spare for their usual quips and teasing remarks as they tugged at each other’s clothes.

Not that Thancred remained quiet for long once his hands were free to sweep over her bare skin, his touch firm and grounding as he pressed his fingers into every dip and curve like he was remapping her body in his mind. He stole the dark thoughts from her head with clever touches and heated whispers, and in return branded her body with marks of his love that’d remain in the morning, emblazing her skin with his words of endearments as though they were part of a prayer.

She’d always found it easy to lose herself in him, but Twelve, it felt like he was a wildfire - fierce and scorching, determined to seep into every fiber of her being and set her aflame in turn and give the shadows that had taken root in her heart nowhere to hide.

The haze of pleasure was welcome - to only be aware of him and his touches, too far gone to do anything else but surrender to instinct and tug and pull him to wherever she wanted - needed - him. And gods, he went willingly to wherever she bid, eager to be rewarded for his efforts by her voice breaking upon the syllables of his name over and over again.

She was adrift, lost to the concerns and worries of the world.

It was a fog that lingered even once he eased her down from the high with soft touches and quiet words that she struggled to really register the meaning of. But it was his voice, and she felt safe and looked after, even as the exhaustion started to creep into its place.

—

Viana woke with a sharp inhale, her entire body tensing in preparation for a phantom danger. Immediately, a warm hand stilled on her back.

“Didn’t wake you, did I?”

Thancred’s soft voice made her look up, only to have to blink against the low light of the bedside lamp. “No,” she exhaled as she relaxed and let her head slump back against his chest. Despite the restless end to her sleep, the sweet aches that lingered in her limbs coupled with the familiar warmth of his body against hers swiftly lulled her back to a drowsy state. “Merely a bad dream.”

There was a slight rustle as Thancred put down the book he’d been reading and his hand brushed through her hair and down her back. Sensing the question before he could utter it, she tilted her head enough to press a kiss to his skin. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t too bad.”

“‘I’ve had worse’, is it?”

The ever so disarming teaseful lilt to his voice that concealed the concern in his words made her huff out a tired laugh at being called out on her half-truth. “I suppose it is.” His fingers caressed the back of her neck, coaxing a satisfied hum from her. “How long was I asleep?”

“An hour, give or take.”

“And you are awake because your book was too captivating to put down?”

Thancred was silent for a short moment, before sighing. “Wanted to make sure you slept,” he admitted.

Blinking her eyes open, Viana craned her neck to look up at him. “You lovable foolish man,” she mused fondly and reached up to caress his cheek. “You need your sleep as well.” Thancred smiled softly and tilted his head into the touch, before discarding his book onto the nightstand.

“Then consider me sufficiently guilted by your disapproving look, my dear,” he rumbled and turned down the light.

Viana smiled to herself while waiting for him to shuffle fully beneath the covers. “Quite gracious of you.”

“I have my moments.”

Laughing under her breath, she managed to press a kiss to his cheek in the gloom. “More than a few, love.” There was a comforting familiarity to the teasing exchange, his little huffed laugh warm and precious - like she’d managed to reclaim a fragile piece of normalcy.

It was a feeling she held onto as Thancred pulled her back into his safe and solid embrace. With the warmth of his arms around her, sleep weighed on her mind, but she pushed it away for just a little while longer. Her hand found his jaw in the gloom and he immediately stilled, waiting. With no light, she couldn’t make out much of his expression, but he tilted his head into her touch as she caressed his cheek with her thumb. “I’m sorry for not speaking to you before,” she said quietly.

Thancred didn’t respond immediately, but his fingers flexed against her waist. “I know I’m the last person in our merry little group who should chide anyone for that,” he replied. “But you should, to someone.”

“I know. I will.” Leaning over, she brushed her lips to his. “Tomorrow. I promise.”

She felt him relax as he exhaled. “... just your poor luck that it’s Estinien and I who have the closest experience.”

The jest was spoken softly as he bumped his forehead against hers, their noses colliding, and in the dark, she found herself laughing quietly, feeling warm and safe for the first time in weeks.

#thancred waters #wolcred #6.0 spoilers #Endwalker spoilers #ffxiv #my writing #inappropiate ending is inappropiate #but it was all I could think up

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starswornoaths · 3 months ago

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3. Tempest

Post 6.0, things are changing for the Scions.

They just haven't told all of them yet. So naturally, that becomes an issue.

word count: 1,313

“Big things ahead for us, I should think,” Alphinaud chimed happily without looking up from the letter he had brought in to work on.

“Hmm. Bigger than what we just finished?” Serella asked, her own focus deterred from goldsmithing between his comment and the ache in her ban.

“Oh heavens, I should hope not! Many changes loom on the horizon, but much will feel familiar. It will be nice to go to ground again, so to speak. Not that we should hasten to our next task, of course, but having a plan is preferable.”

There was a peculiar pause there—only a few moments, but long enough that Serella caught the way he flitted his eyes toward her with as little movement as possible. Had she not stopped fiddling with her project, she might have missed it entirely…which she suspected he had been hoping for.

“What do you mean,” she asked slowly, “when you say we will go to ground again?”

That got him to set his pen down, though he kept his eyes on the paper in front of him.

“We Scions have been talking—”

“—Without me?” she asked with care.

“Oh!” Alphinaud was startled into actually looking at her when he seemed to realize how horrible it sounded when put like that. “No, not with the intent to leave you out of the discussion, of a certainty, but we thought to bring it up when you were perhaps a bit further along in recovery—”

“What are you lot talking about, then? What’s this plan I’ll find out about later?” she pressed, already thin on patience.

Silence stretched for another few heartbeats, drawn out further by Alphinaud’s resumed refusal to look at her.

“I— well, ‘tis hardly a plan just yet, but…given all that we have accomplished, and how far the Alliance has come—”

“The Grand Company of Eorzea.” Serella corrected him.

“Yes, yes, the Grand Company,” Alphinaud hastily corrected, adding, “though even that name change proves how far they have come. Far enough along that I believe it time for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to slip back into the shadows. We aim to announce our disbandment upon your medical clearance—”

“Disbandment?” Serella gawked.

“Not in truth! Only insofar as the official story will tell!” Alphinaud reassured, at last turning to her fully.

Serella wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the conversation, at the way he looked surprised that she might take umbrage with the notion.

“We are an organization that has always worked in shadow in service to the star—”

“Oh come off it,” she cut him off waspishly, “Minfilia called us the worst kept secret in Eorzea before we had even moved to the Rising Stones. If you think for one second we were ever fully hidden—”

“I am under no such delusion.” Alphinaud huffed. “Even if only in principal, however, we were not outwardly acknowledged.”

“Until Minfilia specifically declared that we would be a public institution. To be open and honest with the people we fight to save. And you would undermine that, Alphinaud?”

“The world has changed, Serella,” he sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “to even begin to speculate on what Minfilia would do after all of this is a disservice to her memory.”

“And the choice to lie to our friends isn’t? To our allies? After fighting alongside them in the name of truth and unity? When we have only barely started pulling back as arbiters for advanced technologies and mediators between peoples post-Calamity? For what purpose, even? So you won’t be pestered by the things they don’t ask of us anymore?” she asked.

“Not—not lying—well, alright, ‘tis a lie, but one that we feel—”

“We?”

“—is necessary. The city-states will continue to grow independent on their own—”

“You know they only asked us for help when they couldn’t do what we did, yes? That such needs were why the Scions were even founded to begin with?” she pressed him. “I don’t even particularly like the governments we’ve worked with, and even I would not be so uncharitable as to consider them demanding.”

“They did ask much of us—” he began.

She was having none of it, however, citing, “Eorzea was losing to Garlemald when I joined the Scions. Do you even remember that? It was a lifetime ago, aye, but they didn’t even ask us at first—do you not recall how close they came to surrendering? Now that they have the means to combat primals without the Echo and a cure for tempering, you cannot even trust them to restrain themselves from asking needless favors?”

“‘Tis not only up to me—” he sidestepped.

“But you suggested it, I’d wager.” She countered.

When the silence re-entered the room, it was incredulous. Stifling.

“That…is a cruel assumption,” Alphinaud said slowly, eyes averted.

Unfazed, Serella blanched, “Am I wrong?”

Silence chimed in to answer on his behalf: of course he did.

“I think it more than fair for us to step back from—” he tried to pivot.

“So do that. Assign other Scions to Eorzea’s care if you feel you’ve done your part. Disbanding would displace dozens of our colleagues. How many of us have rooms in the Rising Stones with nowhere else to go? For how long was I one of those colleagues?”

“Everyone would remain on the payroll—”

“But disbandment would require us to scatter. To “keep up appearances” and give credence to the lie. Have you factored in where our colleagues will go? How long will we be scattered? What will happen to the Rising Stones and the Waking Sands?”

“We’re barely starting the talks for this now, I know not what we will do to address these things—” he tried to argue.

“Have you told Estinien?” she asked pointedly. “Does he get a vote?”

Silence once more interjected—of course Estinien doesn’t know yet.

Nor was he an Archon.

“Well…” Alphinaud meandered.

“After all the effort the lot of you used to cajole him into joining, finally reassuring him he’s got a steady place to rest his lance outside of Ishgard, this is his thanks not even six moons on?! And what of the others?!”

“As I said, we’re still working it out—”

“So you’re bringing this to the table with no logistics, no plan, and nothing to act as a safety net for those of us that aren’t Archons?” Serella pressed.

“Were our deaths not enough?” Alphinaud asked, tired. “I care for our comrades’ well being. You know I do. But I haven’t the answers yet.”

“Were any of mine?” she countered. “You got to come along for the full ride once, and that was enough, was it?”

“I know not why this is an argument,” he huffed, throwing his hands up in the air as he added, “I still want to work to help Garlemald—your betrothed leads the charge in that—”

“Which makes it all the more insulting you would have me lie to him. You would leave no organization behind the lot of you, nothing to help future generations, no “guiding light” like Loui—”

“I know,” Alphinaud said in a low voice, “what my grandfather wanted. And I know what we want.”

“And who is we, Alphinaud?” Serella asked again in a matching tone.

Silence’s presence made itself known in the room again. It hummed in her ears, it buzzed in his blood.

“I think…I should go.” Alphinaud murmured, easing himself down from his chair. “Mayhap we can revisit this once you are better. You’re talking like you did years ago when you thought yourself alone.”

“And little wonder. You talk like you did when you thought to form the Braves. You’ve never seemed younger.” Serella quipped, already leaning back into her pillows.

If his flinch was any indication, Alphinaud understood it as the furthest thing from a compliment, yet silence saw him out of her room.

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite #alphinaud leveilleur #ffxiv #serella arcbane #endwalker spoilers #6.0 spoilers #is it obvious I'm deeply critical of this plot point #anyway it's a fun excuse to explore the Scions' biggest vice: their inability to unlearn academia #and all its institutionalized bullshit #it's easy to forget because most of them don't *behave* like book nerds but that's not what institutionalized academia is #ANYWAY I'm not gonna do all of the ffxivwrite prompts I'm just doing the ones that speak to me #it's fun to not be pressed about it #like I can just use the writing exercises for what they are

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