#HAMIGNANT VARLINEAU

[coldshrugs]

ffxivwrite - prompt 4: reticent

characters: estinien varlineau, hamignant varlineau, and featuring my wol, io laithe word count: 1921 rating: mature for mentions of bullying & death. summary: three short, heavily headcanoned scenes from estinien's life, at ages 12, 21, and 33. [middle section heavily inspired by this art] posted 9/5/24 | updated 10/11/24

“I challenge you, Ser, to a trial by combat! Take up your arms and fight me!”

“And what is my crime this time?”

Hamignant, small as he is, brandishes his stick threateningly, but all that swagger is betrayed by an answer that comes out slower than usual. Shaky, even. “You don’t play with me anymore.”

Estinien shifts his weight, leaning a bit more heavily on the tall crook. A stone of guilt sinks in his stomach, so he distracts himself by watching the shallow valley just below the hill they stand on and the sheep grazing there. It is late spring and their coats are full and fluffy, ready for shearing. His twelfth nameday was less than a moon ago and he is expected to help with the task this year. His parents rely on him more now, sending him on errands usually tended by his father, giving him additional fieldwork. It isn’t easy, but it feels good to be trusted.

In truth, he would very much like to continue playing with Hamignant. His little brother has a knack for making games of their chores, and should they be caught goofing off, his wit is quick enough to make even the most stern adult smile.

Estinien does not share his talent for conversation, but Hamignant never seems to mind. He is content to babble so long as Estinien is close by to listen.

The stick—his foraged sword—wriggles closer. Closer. Until it pokes into Estinien’s cheek.

His gaze slides sideways, to Hamignant’s dramatic stance. It would be funny if not for the serious set of his brow, the tight purse of his lips, and the sheen welling in his eyes. Halone bless him, he truly is upset…

Estinien shifts again, batting the stick away with his crook, and smiles at Hamignant. “Then fight me, little knight, but take care to hide your bruises from Mother and Father.”

With a cheer of delight and an expression that makes Estinien proud he put it there, Hamignant begins their spar. Their wooden weapons echo across the meadow, sharp cracks followed by the occasional shriek or grunt when their limbs take a hit.

“Ow!” Estinien pauses to nurse a sore knuckle in his mouth. Hamignant celebrates, jumping on the spot before reenacting the flashy maneuver in the air between them. His victory doesn’t last—Estinien topples him and sends them both rolling down the hill in a fit of laughter.

They land fulms away from the sheep. Some come over to sniff them, like curious friends checking for injuries. Hamignant reaches up to pet snouts, red cheeks stretched in an open smile.

Estinien lies back to catch his breath. Clouds drift overhead in lazy wisps, and the grass tickles his neck and ankles as a warm breeze passes through the meadow. He closes his eyes, listening to the soft bleating of his charges, and even though his knuckle still throbs, he is happy.

“We should make a pact, Es,” Hamignant says, and his excited voice does not negate the sense of peace. “When we grow up, let’s both be knights. We can live in Ishgard and wear armor, protect beautiful maidens from harm, and fight dragons!”

“Best not to wish for dragons, Hami, like Mother says.” He chews his bottom lip. “Besides, I don’t want to be a knight. I like living here. Someone must stay and care for the farm.”

Hamignant’s smile sags. “Fine,” he pouts, though he looks less defeated than before. “You can stay in Ferndale all your days, and I’ll be a great knight of Ishgard. I will come home every Starlight and tell you about my adventures. That could still be fun, right?”

Estinien grins and rights himself, then offers a hand to help his brother up as well. “The finest plan you’ve ever had.”

At age twenty-one, Estinien is still getting used to his height.

Hitting striking dummies with Alberic is one thing—they don’t dodge, and they don’t hit back. And sparring with his unit is pitiable right now, as many of them adjust to growing bodies. It is something else entirely to swing the unfamiliar length of his arm at a sneering face, or struggle to take an unwieldy step backward before the very real fist meets his cheek. To fight and defend himself seriously.

He hits the training yard dirt with a weak groan that is all but drowned out by a roar of laughter. His ears ring from the impact. Four soldiers, all fledglings like himself, still in a training unit, stand over him.

“And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay down, Varlineau.” The one that threw the punch. Taller than he is, and stronger, and probably some noble’s son or nephew. It’s been a few moons since his official enlistment, but Estinien has not learned their names. He is here for one reason, and he cannot make room for useless information. And why should he, when another puts a foot on his chest as he tries to stand?

They erupt again over such a hard-won victory.

“We heard you last night, whimpering in your bunk like a freshly-weened babe. That the Azure Dragoon should waste his time with you,” one scoffs.

“No better than an orphaned Brume brat. We should drag you back to Ferndale and let Nidhogg know he missed one—”

The ankle holding him down makes a sickening snap when he twists it. Striking dummies certainly don’t do that. The boy goes down with a pained scream.

Estinien stands. He says nothing, only wipes his bloody nose with the back of his hand, then swings. 

He spends three days in the gaol, and they do not bother him again.

He’s been in this room too long. His body is stiff from disuse, even with the daily practice of simple stretches. By chirurgeon’s orders, he has been forbidden from any activities that might reopen his wounds.

By fucking Halone and all the rest, he is bored.

At least he doesn’t want for company—that is not to say company has ever been a strong craving for him, of course. But Estinien could do worse than the Warrior of Light making her near-daily visit, even if it’s simply because this is the single place in Ishgard where she might escape the pitying gazes and prying questions about her… entanglement with Greystone. He enjoys a few hours of quiet, tolerable companionship, and she has a moment of privacy; an even exchange, in his mind.

Io sits in a ratty armchair, legs curled under her, by a sunny window so thickly lined with sympathy flowers, the room resembles the Holy Gardens of the Vault. Or, more kindly, the meadows ringing Ferndale in late spring. She wears the evidence of mourning around her eyes, red-rimmed and darkened bags from lack of decent sleep. He knows the look well. Still, the backdrop suits her.

Today, she knits, softly humming to herself in time to the rhythmic click of the needles. She’s lost in it, and her silence is appreciated. They talk during these visits, yes, but it isn’t like before. He thought her a friend before Aymeric’s mad plan shook their lives. Now… “friend” seems both too frivolous and too forward. They’re vulnerable in this room, Io grieving her lover, Estinien bandaged and weak—vulnerable, but distant.

He misses how they were before.

So he watches the wool slipping between her fingers with each meticulous loop, the way the half-formed garment hangs heavy from her hands. And all of it—the dappled light on the flowers, the repetitive scratch of Io’s work and wordless song, the weight of wool he used to know well, the herbaceous scent of medicinal salve rising from his wounds—dredges up the memory of another life. If Estinien closes his eyes, it could be twenty-one years ago. He could be there, if only for a moment, if only as a visitor.

Grief wails inside him. It is the roar he’s felt for years, through the Eye he used as a tool. Strange, to feel it now as part of himself, bottomless and inconsolable and so full of love. Stranger still to realize they were not so different in the end.

When was the last time he’s cried? Estinien is barely aware of where the tears trail down his cheeks, numb to everything but the homesick ache he has fought for half his life. He rubs his face before Io has the chance to see him.

“Io.” Estinien clears his throat. With her head still tilted towards her craft, Io’s eyes shift to meet his. “There is something I would ask.”

She pauses, waiting for his question.

“Why did you save me?”

Her answer comes in the form of a furrowed brow. She continues knitting without a word.

“I was ready. I was. And now? I don’t know how to be, I don’t know how to live without it. I’m unfit for anything else.”

Io’s lips thin a bit, tightening into a frustrated line, as she works. She shakes her head. Maybe she’s angry he asked. For all he lacks as a conversationalist, he is an expert in offending, even when he doesn’t mean to.

He lifts himself off the pillows piled at his back, ignoring the fire in his shoulder.

“You could’ve left me, or killed me. I feel him, Io. The echo of his loss; when it hits me… Io, you could’ve killed me.” The words leave him in a rush, riding the swell of pain that belongs to him and the adamant traces of Nidhogg that are part of him now.

Her sigh shames him. “Kill a man—my friend—when he doesn’t want to die? Let you fall to anguish and pain?" She lays the needles in her lap and her dark gaze all but dares him to argue. He’s never heard her speak with such a firm certainty. “No, Estinien, I could never have done that. Nidhogg’s isn’t the only grief you carry, nor are his memories the only ones worth saving.”

Silence encloses them, balancing on the knife’s edge of comfort and unease. Neither looks away. He counts the agitated rise and fall of Io’s chest until they are breathing in sync, then until both are steady.

With the softer tone he recognizes, she says, “We all need reminding that burdens, even ones as heavy as this, can be shared.” 

Her mere presence gives the lie to his words. He would’ve done the same, if it were her. He sags back into his pillows, exhaustion replacing the wyrm’s overwhelming emotion.

And they return to the shred of peace they fought for. Io hums, and the needles click, and that is enough. He listens, occasionally mustering a courageous glance, and thinks about the uncertain future until the rays of sunlight tilt his direction instead of hers.

“I think it’s time to get on.”

“Me?” Io’s lips stretch into a crooked smile over the yarn. “Fine, I’ll kill you next time.”

His laugh is rough and unfamiliar sounding, closer to a cough. It hurts his broken ribs.

Io’s raspy chuckle is a far more pleasant sound. “Where will you go?”

Estinien sighs. He knows where he wants to go. The question is whether he will be welcome. “If it’s all the same, that is my business alone.”

Io nods and does not push the matter. Hm. There is always another question… In the absence of one, something settles in him… A sense of solace he didn’t know he was allowed. 

So he confesses: “To make amends.”

[estinininininen]

public service announcement that while Estinien's little brother's name, Hamignant, seems atrocious, that's only if you expect Hyur (English) pronunciation

it would be probably be more like

"AHM-mee-nã"

be sure to add a stereotypical silly French accent twist on the "gn" and it will be closer to right. something like ['amiŋɑ̃], for any other FFXIV linguistic nerds out there. It's been a decade since I learnt IPA and I ain't French and don't actually speak it so I dunno for sure

now, to the important part. what this means for fanfiction writers - depressing flashbacks, alternate universes, wolstinien kidfics - is that the cute natural nickname I've seen in some fanfics already, Hami, is pronounced like the Elezen (French) word "ami," friend. and according to google a whole slew of other slang meanings depending on context, including boyfriend. the clichéd "mon ami" you hear in movies that French people apparently haven't actually said in decades. cuteness is lying on the table for you, ready to be punned

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

FFXIV Write Day 1: Steer

It's that time of year again! :D Estinien watches Agi steer the ship that is taking them to Tural. SFW.

“You sure you can steer this thing?” Estinien whispered into Agnes’s ear. Esme was chasing the twins on deck, while Krile, Erenville, and Wuk Lamat were fawning over Hamignant.

Lad loves the attention.

His wife snorted. “Estinien, really! I grew up by the sea---of course I know how to steer!” She turned her head to place a gentle kiss on Marcelin’s head (this one’s napping and wrapped against me) and then focused ahead. “Docking is another story though.”

The captain of the ship shook his head and groaned. “Alright, Mistress Varlineau. You’ve had your fun.”

Estinien watched his wife giggle adorably as she relinquished control of the ship and thanked him profusely for indulging her.

Agi, you charm everyone you meet. Thought you knew that by now.

Then again…

“Oh, that was amazing!” She grinned, kissing first the sleeping infant’s head again and then ME!!! “Did I do a good job, love?”

Should I tease or—

Definitely tease.

As he gently rocked Marcelin, he answered with a wink. “We’ve not crashed upon the rocks, so aye, you did.”

There she is pretending to be mad, but I see that blush madam.

They were interrupted by a squealing Esme running into her mother’s leg, Alisaie and Alphinaud close behind.

Alisaie rolled her eyes. “Estinien, Agi would never lead us astray in any capacity!”

“Quite right!” Agnes laughed, lifting Esme and peppering her cute little face with kisses. “Mummy’s good enough to not sink the boat. Isn’t that wonderful, my little love?”

If only you weren’t dead to the world, Marc.

You’d see your mother as confident and happy as I’ve ever seen her.

Flowers in her hair. A smile on her face. A new adventure on the horizon with friends old and new.

I wonder what awaits us in Tural, my son…

[petrolstationflowers]

Estinien's brain isn’t capable of stuttering anything more than “please,” over and over again while his lungs heave for air, begging Halone to grant him solace, just this once. You aren’t supposed to lose everything when you’re only twelve.

This time, he gets there a few minutes earlier.

This time, Halone answers his prayer.

(or: in a softer, kinder world, Hamignant survives Ferndale. canon divergent AU)]

Chapter 6 is (finally) up!

[ivorystand]

Take me back to the night we met

(Vaguely inspired by that lyric from The Night We Met by Lord Huron)

So, @pinkcadaver and I were talking last night or the night before about how Estinien's little brother would tag along on the Ferndale Trio's little adventures and decided to not only come up with my idea of what he looked like, but also this screenshot. In my eyes, Estinien resembled his father a lot more, while his brother looked like their mom.

As for the context? Estinien's denying Hamignant's accusation of having a crush on Yuhki 😂

(Edited because someone in the replies told me the name of his brother and I just 😭 I'm even more emo ALSO I REALIZE NOW I GAVE HIM THE WRONG HAIR COLOR I DIDNT KNOW-)

but now I'm making myself cry because I fucking love those idiots so much

[janzoo]

I have been thinking and feeling (and hearing, har har) about Estinien a lot recently, especially his early life in Ferndale, and I have some headcanons to foist upon you all. I'm going to refer to his parents as Ma and Pa.

The Varlineaus were shepherds (canon), though Ma kept a garden (most homes in Ferndale did) with an apple tree. She taught Estinien and Hamignant a lot about caring for the plants she grew. (Estinien's forgotten some of it by now, though I'd like to think his memory could be refreshed.) Ma loved that apple tree and gave it a lot of special love and care. Otherwise she grew herbs, and food that was good for preserving and pickling because...

(More under the readmore)

Ma and Pa's generation saw a really bad winter hit Ferndale. As a result, they were big on preserving and pickling to ensure their family would never face starvation like that. Although Estinien isn't a disaster in the kitchen, his skills are pretty simple. (Sandwiches, eggs, steaming/boiling veggies, etc.) However, he inexplicably retains all that Ma taught him about the pickling/preserving/jam-making process; probably in large part because he always helped her and it was one of his favourite things. This also goes with a oneshot wolstinien fic I wrote in which Estinien remembers that Hamignant's favourite food was pickles. (As in standard pickled cucumbers.)

Shifting to something else a little, Estinien won't kill bees. Wasps/hornets/etc. sure, if he must, but not proper bees. Ferndale respected bees, nigh on revered them even, for their vital role in pollination. One of the other families in Ferndale were beekeepers, and they adamantly adhered to telling the bees. (Basic version: telling the bees is an old beekeeping practice of informing a beehive of major local happenings, especially births, deaths, and marriages. Yes, as in the beekeeper talks to the bees. In the case of marriages, the bees need to be brought a piece of wedding cake. Failing to do this is said to result in misfortune befalling the hive, and by extension, the community. Practices vary by country/region.)

In a similar vein, the people of Ferndale were fairly superstitious. With the population likely being mostly, if not entirely Elezen, they leaned heavily into being "long of ear" as a sign of good fortune and general physical attractiveness. At least once a day, Ma or Pa used to pinch Estinien and Hamignant's ear tips and give them a little tug to "help them grow". It was, of course, uncomfortable and obnoxious, but there was no getting out of it. This was practised across Ferndale.

So TL;DR, Estinien can make preserves, pickles, jams, even pie fillings if he wants (though not the crust lol), he's probably sleeping on some old plant-care/botany knowledge, his parents used to pinch/tug his ears, and he respects he hell out of bees.

[potassium-pilot]

FFXIVWrite Day 4: Off The Hook

It was a warm and sunny summer day in the Eastern Highlands. A young Elezen boy with silver hair pulled back into a ponytail sat on a boulder by a creek in a forest with a fishing rod in hand. He couldn't remember how long he sat there for, but he could at least tell the sun shifted in its position. Where it was sunny before, now there was shade, making it more difficult for him to spot fish. He considered moving position, but why should he? He finished his chores for the day, did he not? What's the rush?

"ESTINIEN?!"

The boy turned his head at the loud screech of his name, recognizing who screeched it immediately. Along scurried his little brother of just under seven summers, sporting the same silver hair and gray tunic as him- his hair was just shorter and his tunic was just smaller.

Estinien raised a finger to his lips and made a loud, "SHHHHHH!" before harshly whispering, "Shut up! You'll scare off the fish!"

"Oh." Hamignant shuffled his feet. "Sorry", he whispered back.

"What do you want?"

"Mama said I should find you."

"What for?"

"She told me that I need to do something with you."

"What? Why?"

"She said I need fresh air."

Estinien sighed agitatedly. "Well, don't scream any more."

"Fine." Hamignant used his tinier hands and feet to climb the boulder and sit next to his big brother. The younger brother stared into the water. "Isn't it harder to see fish here?"

"I mean...a little, but that's why I need to concentrate."

"What's that mean? Con-sa-tray?"

"No, it's con-cen-trate. It means I need to pay attention, and I can't do that if you keep talking."

"Oh." Hamignant stayed quiet and watched his big brother as he focused solely on his fishing exploits. It took all of fifteen seconds for the younger sibling to ask, "How many fish are there?"

"Wh-- how should I know that?"

"You're big brother. You know everything."

"Well, I don't know that, Hamignant." Hamignant went back to watching the water. "Can we do something else?"

"You're the one who came to me, and I'm fishing. If you want to do something else, go do it somewhere else."

"You're mean", Hamignant curled his knees to his chest and hugged them while pouting. Estinien went right back to the water, ignoring his brother's futile efforts at garnering sympathy. For a few minutes, he was quiet, much to Estinien's relief, but just as he started falling into complacency, Hamignant decided now was the time to become a songwriter. Softly, he sang, "Fish, Dish, Wish, Smish, Pish, Kish, Lish" much like a song for the Eorzean alphabet they learned at one point.

Estinien started growling to himself, ready to cast aside fishing to scare off Hamignant. Thankfully, a pull against his line made him stop his preparations. With one tug, Estinien gasped.

"What?" Hamignant stopped singing to ask.

"Shh", Estinien shushed as he kept his eye. There was one more pull at his line, but nothing sank yet. "What's going on, Estinien?" Just as he asked that question, his hook sank. Estinien excitedly reeled in his first catch of the day. "Finally!"

"Whoa! You caught one, Estinien! You caught one!" The boy pulled his triumph towards him and unhooked it. "Wow, it's small!" Hamignant pointed out.

"Yeah, it is", Estinien agreed nonchalantly. "It's just a guppy. I'm not looking to catch fish to eat" With that, Estinien threw it back into the waters. "Well, now what?"

"I'm not sure. Wanna skip rocks at the lake?" Estinien suggested.

"Sure!"

Estinien and Hamignant climbed off the rock together and made their way south, following the direction of the water flow in the creek. "What happens when we leave this spot, Estinien?"

"It stays there. It'll be there tomorrow."

"Can we come back and see it again?"

"Sure. After I finish chores tomorrow, I'm coming right back."

"What if you have to watch the sheep again tomorrow?"

"Even better. I'll come back the day after."

Hamignant looked around the forest. "Could you catch squid here?"

"Squid? I've never seen a squid here. I think they're in the ocean, aren't they?"

"Ooh, ooh, ooh! I heard that it's got a bunch of slimy legs and people eat them!"

"No they don't! Stop being gross!"

Hamignant laughed and argued, "Yes they do! I heard it from Rosimperic who heard it from a fisherman from Gridania!"

"Rosimperic's messing with you!"

After that, the youngest picked up his pace into a sprint. "Race you to the lake!" Estinien put on a smirk and accepted the challenge, entering into his own sprint and chasing after Hamignant, the two boys running to enjoy a summer afternoon.

------

It was a summer afternoon, not that anyone could tell by looks alone. Never mind what eternal winter did, and never mind what Nidhogg did. Eastern Coerthas formed into a land beyond recognition thanks to Dalamud landing. Even with the destruction that ravaged this land, perhaps even in spite of it, a boulder yet stood. It had cracks, it had plenty chipped off of it, but that boulder would not bow to anything, no matter how apocalyptic.

Ice and sleet cracked under the footsteps of the former Azure Dragoon as he stepped towards this boulder. Upon reaching it, he laid down his lance against the rock and sat down on it. Fury, he remembered this boulder being much bigger.

Even if Bahamut hadn't come, Nidhogg razed this land and left the creek that once flowed through here untenable for any life. He could never fish here again. Still, he stared down at what was once a frequently visited fishing spot, thinking about the guppies he would catch and release, thinking about teaching Hamignant how to fish here when he grew too old for this stream, thinking about how Hamignant ran towards him to join him, thinking about how he and Hamignant would hold their childish contests and play their games.

Thinking about Hamignant.

Thinking about how Hamignant deserved to be here with him.

Thinking of how he could have taken Hamignant with him on his new journey.

Thinking of how Alphinaud wept at his bedside, and how for a singular moment, he could have sworn they were the sobs of Hamignant.

The specters of childhood yet remained even in this blighted land, but who was he to judge? It was as ravaged by Nidhogg's rancor as he was.

He gripped against the rock, moving his fingers about to find it. The mark that made this his rock. Soon, he felt it. Engraved along the side of it, he felt their initials along his fingertips. The calamity couldn't strip this boulder of his effect. Nidhogg couldn't strip it. This was their rock.

"You like that, Hamignant? We did that", Estinien spoke aloud.

Perhaps there was something in the wind, but he felt just the slightest bit chillier. "Don't worry. I've no intention of sticking around here. I simply wish to see it one more time." And so he did. As he looked, his index finger circled around Hamignant's initials.

There was a tightness in Estinien's chest. "You were made an object of my vengeance. You, mother, father...you deserved better. Your memories should not have been sullied so. Please, forgive me."

He stared into the endless winter, unforgiving and unrelenting. "This is a rock. I'm talking to a rock." He sniffled slightly. "...I think I needed to talk to a rock."

Against the white blanket of snow, there was yet a piece of green that stood in defiance. As he focused on it, he recognized it as a baby pine. Even in the fecund soils of Eastern Coerthas, perhaps even in spite of them, it dared to grow anew. "Heh." Estinien stood up and knelt before the sprout. "Well...if you're intent on growing, then so am I." He grabbed hold of his lance and replaced it on his back, then he turned away from the boulder, and began his journey anew.

"This will still be here tomorrow, after all."

[varlinhoes]

silvie evolution! + a familiar face ;)c silvaine gets adopted by the Varlineaus after Lucienne dies when he's only 2, so he has no memory of her vv and Ft. my headcanon for Hamignant and a baby mode Esti! Ludeaux and Aleone are my takes on what Esti's parents looked like!

[paintedscales]

Mixed May 2024 -> Family

"Come now. No need to tease your brother about his limbal ring. Last I remember, both of you were just as nervous and excited to get your own."

[scootdoesart]

it's messy as all hell buuut I decided to combine two of the prompts i missed into one!! hoping i can keep goin' with this, it's super fun hehe

[dawnslight-aegis]

the kids and godkids, pt 3

Hamignant Varlineau

Aliases/Titles: Hami, Hannish Ambassador to Ishgard

Combat training: Lance/naginata, bow, chakrams (DRG/BRD/DNC)

Elemental affinity: Water

Personality: Quiet, shy, warm, kind, helpful, sensitive, trusting, slow to fight, terrifying if provoked

Childhood: Wandered with his family, but preferred when they were places that felt like home, Thavnair especially. Struggled with being in Ishgard when his horns started to grow into their distinctive shape, hates being treated like something scary. Has tried to make himself as gentle and unintimidating as possible as a result (hard when you’re 7 fulms tall with Nidhogg horns).

Adulthood: Accompanies Emil on his adventures despite not really being the adventuring type himself, finally manages to catch his best friend’s eye romantically. Is a very kind person, but if his family is threatened, has the ability to tap into some leftover Nidhogg rage, which terrifies him, so he prefers to play more of a support role. Later becomes an official ambassador between Ishgard and Thavnair, splitting his time between the two places, working for Aymeric and Vrtra.

Interests: Dragons, cooking, woodworking, dancing, singing, playing the lute, caring for animals

Relationships below the cut

 Marz: Loves his mother very much, enjoys helping her with cooking, often plays music to accompany her singing. She is the one who realized that he was badly suited to the dragoon fighting style, and trained him in the bardic arts. Reminds her of her late life partner, Veha, as well as her father.

 Estinien: Inherited his dad’s vaguely draconic nature, bond over that as well as Estinien encouraging his interest in woodworking and taking care of animals.

 Jorani: Has never been able to tell her no, follows her lead in most things. Their paths diverge in adulthood but makes a point to visit her/invite her to visit him frequently.

 Kaede: Very close, she’s his favorite source of wisdom and advice about all sorts of things. Gravitates to her whenever they’re in the same vicinity. In adulthood, makes a point to take her out for lunch frequently since both their husbands are often busy.

 Aymeric: Have somewhat similar temperments and get along well, but very little in common. Work well together in a professional capacity, and get to know each other better after Hami and Emil are married.

 Emilien: Has been in love with him since they were kids, admires his passion and his love for his family. Tries to keep him from getting into TOO much trouble, and is always happy to watch his back. Is a happy part-time stay-at-home husband.

 Liliane: Very fond of her, has never treated her like a little kid. Is able to get her to talk about things that are bothering her when no one else can. They trade books often, and he continues to work as ambassador after she becomes Lady Speaker.

 Others: Has a particularly strong bond with his “uncle” Vrtra, as well as his (actual) uncle Daava. Fascinated by Y’shtola, gets along particularly well with G’raha. Loves Alphinaud as much as his sister loves Alisaie.

[coldshrugs]

mustering

characters: estinien varlineau; io laithe (wol) | pre-relationship word count: 900 note: i'm having a lot of feelings about siblings, accidental family, and the way men love. [divider credit]

“Have you noticed our little shadow? He's been following us since we left the city.”

Io’s ears shift a degree, but Estinien suspects she doesn’t have to apply much focus to pick out the clumsy footsteps in the brush. She grins, eyes trained forward so she doesn’t disturb their company.

“And here I was thinking you'd taken the long way round for my benefit,” she says, and his skin tingles with the shy mischief in her voice.

He turns to her, strafing sideways, then walking backward down the well-worn path that slithers beneath the canopy. He takes stock of both his companions. The boy–in shaggy hair and tattered clothes, creeping through tangled plants several feet behind them–still thinks he’s unseen. And Io–in the dappled green light, she is more beautiful than the image he’s kept in his mind these past months, and looking far more healthy–is only teasing him

Are they back here? In the place they can laugh together, or make jokes that almost touch the heart of the thing that goes unspoken between them?

Noted.

“Two birds and all that.”

That makes her eyes widen, and makes her smile. Estinien is unable to resist joining her, even if he has to look away.

He continues, “I am worried for him, though. One needn’t have a scholar’s wit to see that the merchant has the boy leashed. He’s being used.”

Her ear twitches again when their follower snaps a branch, but they are careful not to give him away.

“You do this often, you know?”

“Hm?”

“You have a knack for finding wayward souls. Little lambs.” Her laugh is a familiar melody, quiet but uncouth. Something he didn’t realize he missed. “It’s like you call to them, or they to you… Like you can’t help but care for them.”

“Hm.” He returns to her side, an arm’s length away. Both too close and too far.

Estinien thinks of his brother, as he often does. A little thing, wiry but tough. He liked to chase the sheep to try to rile them up, to rile Estinien up when it was his watch, but they would simply follow him, as sheep are wont to do. It wasn’t long before he’d made friends of the entire flock and took as much pride in their care as Estinien had. Even with so few years between them, their parents trusted Hamignant to watch over the flock, and Estinien to watch over Hamignant.

He thinks of the first time he saw Alphinaud. Never mind the ghost he saw in the lad’s face… there was something else there. He was lonely and lost, carrying the weight of a sin he could not have predicted. A haunting, and a mirror. In the end, he became a source of inspiration, though it took him far too long to realize it.

Vrtra and Aymeric, too. As alone when he met them as he has been at one point in his life or another. Wanting for company, for connection. Wanting to be chosen based on fondness and merit. Wishing for family.

Lost lambs…

Hamignant’s name hasn’t left his mouth in years.

He wonders if Io would care to learn about him. She is a shepherd too, of a kind. He thinks they might’ve liked each other, or that he would have found a way to make her laugh if nothing else.

“Hami…” he begins. The pause lasts too long. Maybe this is stupid. Why dig up the past when he is only so recently able to see a future?

Io smiles patiently.

“Your brother?”

His eyes fall to the leaf-covered ground and he nods. “He would walk our sheep into the fold from pasture. He named them all. Even if they already had one, he’d change them to something he liked better–insufferable, really. Anyway… when one went missing, he’d beg me to join him in the search, make me scour the fields and nearby forest with him until we found whichever young, or old, or lame sheep had wandered off alone, staring up at us with that look of relief. And I was a bit bigger than him, so I would carry it home while he doted on Flopsy, or Custard, or whatever the fuck he’d named them–” he feels his smile spreading as he shakes his head, and the vacuum in his heart surrounding Hamignant shrinks, just a little. “I suppose what I mean is, he still holds me accountable.”

They walk on in silence–Io looking faraway and wistful, and himself feeling lighter having breathed life into the memory–until the trees spread out and give way to the Perfumed Rise. A mile away, the jewel-green sea meets the pink shore, but the wind carries its roar up the hill.

Io’s steps bring her closer. Out of interest in his story, perhaps. “What will you do with this lamb, then? I presume he intends to follow us to Akyaali… We can’t expect him to find his way back to the city alone.”

Estinien sighs. He already knows how this will play out.

You see, being a brother is much like being a shepherd: watch the horizon for danger, be willing to fight it off, carry home the lost and the hurt. The roles are inseparable for him, because he learned them at the same time, with the same person.

“Focus on convincing Matsya to put in a good word with the locals for our boat. Leave the boy to me.”

[eemamminy-art]

Quickly added some colors to a wip project that I’m probably not gonna finish ;;

shepherd boys in better days ♡

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

FFXIV Write: Draconic

In which Estinien has what he knows will be the world's most awkward conversation with Esme, Hami, and Marc about him and his draconic side. SFW.

“Alright, so what you’re telling us is that when Nidhogg’s shade possessed you, he…it…whatever…altered you. Is that correct, Bapa?” Esme said, slowly blinking.

Fuck me, this is just as awkward as I imagined it to be.

Estinien cleared his throat, leaning back in his favorite chair. “Aye. His presence changed my aether, and the alchemists here detected differences in my blood.” He smiled reassuringly at Esme, Hamignant, and Marcelin’s worried faces. “But fear not, none of that is in any of you.”

“So we’re not part dragon?” Hamignant teased, wrinkling his nose just like Agi. “Damn.”

Esme giggled, while Marcelin rolled his eyes. “Twat.” Marcelin muttered, elbowing his twin. Then his brown eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, those times when you and Mum had to go away for a few days every six months or so…is that…” Fury preserve, his eyes cannot get wider, surely? “Like a rut? Like Vrtra?”

Well, shit.

Come on, you knew this was coming.

“Aye.”

Esme let out a squeak like Agi, as Marcelin’s mouth dropped open.

“Are we all products of these…ruts…or…” Hamignant began before Marcelin smacked his arm.

“Seriously? That’s what you want to know?”

“Marc, come on!” He rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to his father. “Is that why there’s so many of us? Is it dragon weird shit?”

Why does he sound weirdly interested in this? I know he reads some…interesting novels, but surely?

Estinien rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. “No,” he said slowly. “There are so many of you because we wanted a large family.”

Marcelin sniggered. “And because you can’t keep your hands off Mum.” The other two joined in, but then Estinien heard another giggle from the kitchen.

Agi, my angel…please save me from this conversation…

His wife poked her head around the corner and grinned. “All very true, my little love, but unfortunately, your father’s draconic tendencies don’t extend to that. The Twelve simply blessed us with you all, and I’m externally grateful.” Agnes rounded the corner, hands on her wider than they used to be hips. “Your father can become partially draconic as he did when he saved us, but that won’t be happening again.”

He nodded. “Yes.” I need to ask…need to know… He cleared his throat. “I, erm, I wanted to ask, before we move on from this, were you…were you afraid of me? When I came to rescue you?” This has haunted my dreams since that day. I cannot live with myself if I’ve frightened my children.

Estinien was not surprised when Esme spoke first.

“I was…” She scrunched her nose and thought for a moment. “Startled, more than anything…when I saw it was you. Then I was worried that you got hurt but not afraid.” Tears glistened in her brown eyes. Just like Agi. “You’ll always be my favorite knight, Bapa. I’m so glad it was you who saved us.” She rose from the couch and rushed to hug him, and Estinien pulled her in his lap. Just I used to when she was small. When I could protect her wielding Nidhogg and leaping into the air with ease.

But she can protect herself. She did that and more.

I’m so proud of you, my dear daughter.

And my dear sons, I’m proud of you too for looking out for each other and your mother and sister.

“Oh Bapa, draconic or not, you’re our father. We love you.” Hamignant said firmly, sounding far too much like Agi. He glanced at his twin. “Right, Marc?”

Marcelin smiled. Finally, a smile that’s mine. Tis like looking into a mirror… “You’re still my favorite knight, Bapa.”

“I thought I was!”

The boys began to playfully tease each other as Agnes watched the scene with a warm smile. When Estinien’s gaze met hers, he knew what she was thinking.

“See, love? Told you it would be fine. Told you they aren’t afraid of you. I’m very sexy, and I’m correct.”

Or something to that effect.

I’m a lucky bastard for many reasons---for my wife and children. For Alberic. For dear friends.

And Aymeric, I suppose.

[petrolstationflowers]

Aymeric has just reported his father to the police. Haurchefant is dealing with his own estranged father getting back in contact, all while he's recovering from a near fatal "accident." Estinien somehow has to figure out how to be a parent to his brother and keep a roof over both their heads.

All four of them are drowning. But sometimes family is three ride or die friends, a teenager, and a particularly ornery cat. Sometimes, that's enough.

("it's rotten work."

"not to me. not if it's you.")

modern with magic, found family AU

chapter six is up!

[mariyekos]

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Estinien Wyrmblood, Alberic Bale, Nidhogg (Final Fantasy XIV) Additional Tags: tags to be added with each chapter, Not Every Tag Applies to Every Chapter, Character Study, Drabble Collection, Pre-Canon, During Canon, Headcanon, Loss of Innocence, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Identity Issues, Blood and Injury, Introspection, Anger, Ratatoskr (Final Fantasy XIV) (Mentioned), Canon-Typical Violence, Animal Death Summary:

"Dragons, men─we are all the same. Slaves to our emotion, subservient to our hearts."   A collection of 100-word drabbles relating to Estinien's life. Some explore moments of canon, some pre-canon, some headcanon, and so on. Mostly independent of each other, with topics and relevant characters for each drabble listed in the chapter names inside.